Walker woke with bony elbows in his ribs, Danny snoring quietly, and he was pretty sure that he was going to be paralyzed from the waist down if he had to spend one more night in these evil beds.
Why? Why would he offer to sleep here?
He stared up at the top bunk for a long second, contemplating his poor life choices. Oh-six-hundred – what a way to start a morning. Walker couldn't help but snort at himself for complaining. God Almighty, how many times had Taylor woken him before four? Of course, that had been nearly a decade ago. Time moved a bit differently in the Zone, but ten years had been enough to make him soft.
Back to the grindstone, so to speak.
Walker glanced down at the little boy tucked into his side. Danny was still curled in on himself, a tight fetal position to protect his middle. He couldn't see the boy's face, just the top of his fluffy white head. The rest was shielded by the comforter, pressed against Walker's ribs along with those dadgum elbows. Kid's nose was freezing.
Ice-jockey for sure, Walker mused, but that would come later.
"C'mon, son, I gotta make breakfast," he rasped. "Wake up, kiddo."
Walker gently ran a hand along Danny's back. But it wasn't gentle enough. Wasn't quiet enough.
The little boy startled awake. Violently. He shot away from Walker's hold, faster than his wasted frame should have been able to move. Hyperventilating, trembling hard enough to make his bones rattle. He slammed harshly into the back wall. The force knocked the wind from his lungs, leaving nothing but a shivering, gasping skeleton of a boy wrapped in a blanket.
Walker cursed himself and silently vowed to skin whoever did this to the punk.
Promises and vows wouldn't do anything about the current situation, though.
"Hey, hey, hey!" the warden called, keeping his voice low. "It's alright! Danny, do you remember me?"
The boy sucked in another breath through his teeth. Wrapped tighter in the blanket and began rocking. Walker tracked the movement silently – Taylor used to do something similar when he'd had a nightmare. Best thing to do would be to keep talking and not touch the kid until he was ready. Or, at least, he hoped that was the best thing to do.
He would've woken up Spectra, but that would mean admitting he couldn't handle a panic attack. Which wasn't entirely true – Ember and Danny both had done that plenty when they'd lived here – but the thought still made his skin itch.
Admitting anything to that woman would be like shooting himself in the foot and running into a Behemoth lair. Stupid.
"Danny? Kiddo, can y'all look at me?"
Another gasp. But Danny managed to lift his head from the blankets, teeth chattering in his jaw. Those eyes peeked up at him, ectoplasm swirling like a plasma-storm, and Walker only just managed to keep his expression somewhat neutral when he caught the abject terror in Danny's expression. No kid should ever look at an adult that way. It was sick.
"Danny, I need ya to listen very carefully, can you do that?"
The little boy's teeth-chattering tremors lessened somewhat. He managed to nod, white hair long enough to almost mask his pseudo-eyes.
"Good. In this house, no one will ever hurt you." Walker kept his voice low, but his tone was firm. "You're my boy now, and that means I'll keep y'all safe. That's what an adult's s'pposed to do, right?"
Danny swallowed thickly. It seemed he choked on a sob.
"I bad," he rasped, sandpaper on cement. "I sorry."
Whoever did this was going to die a slow, horrible death – he'd make sure of it.
"No, Danny," Walker refuted gently. "You ain't bad. Bad kids don't follow the rules like you have. I think you're a very good boy. So you ain't got nothin' to be sorry for."
The trembling was starting to slow, the tempo of his rocking less frantic. "No hurt? No 'speer-a-mens?"
Speer-a-mens? What in Hades did that. . .?
Walker felt his core leap into his mouth when the words clicked. Had they actually treated this kid like some sort of lab rat?! He'd heard tell and experienced parts of history that were far less than savory. But this hearkened back to the '40's. Visions of ghosts with exposed ribs and bloated bellies, sores on skin and deformed feet from wooden shoes floated in his mind. The warden had to swallow back his own revulsion, fighting to keep anything from showing on his face. Poker was his game, but dang if this wasn't a doozy of a challenge.
"No, Danny. No one will ever hurt you again. Not while me or Penelope are around. Got that?" Walker leaned a little closer but took care to maintain a bit of distance. "I'm here ta keep ya safe. No one's hurting anyone 'round here. Y'all can talk an' wear what ya want an' eat 'cause that's what little boys are s'pposed ta do. Understand?"
Danny froze, eyes wide and disbelieving, and Walker had never wanted to murder someone he'd never met so much in his life or afterlife.
"I. . . I talk?" the little boy questioned softly. "No yell?"
Walker shook his head. "Not a chance, punk. I won't yell at ya."
"P'omise?"
It was the first time in almost 48 hours that Danny had actually requested something. Walker was generally opposed to making promises to kids. Promises were sacred things. They bound you at your word, and if you didn't honor them, it meant your word was nothing. And kids, most often, requested promises that were too-easily broken. But this little boy. . . all he wanted was no yelling. No hurting. No experiments.
Things he shouldn't have to require a promise to ensure.
Walker couldn't turn that away.
"I promise. Now, y'all wanna get dressed? After that, you can help me make breakfast in the kitchen. Mama always said breakfast was the most important meal of the day."
His mama was hardly ever wrong when it came to stuff like that, and Walker couldn't help but return the shy smile Danny offered him. Moving slow – partially out of pain, partially to keep the boy calm – Walker crawled out of the bottom bunk. He landed on the floor and sat cross-legged for a second, trying to ignore how sore his lower back was.
Danny, surprisingly, crawled to the edge of the bed and watched him.
"Alright, punk, what d'ya say we get'cha into some clothes?"
Walker wasn't expecting a verbal response. And his expectations were not shattered. Danny nodded carefully, still watching with those eerie pseudo-eyes as the warden groaned his way to a standing position and rifled through the mountain of clothes Lydia had saved. Baby Jesus, how many pairs of socks did one kid need?!
Finally, he settled on a standard pair of denim overalls and a white shirt, red around the sleeves and collar. He wouldn't bother with shoes or socks just yet. No point – kid couldn't walk anyhow. And besides, it was probably best not to overwhelm him with everything at once.
"What d'ya think, kid?"
Danny's smile widened, and his nod was borderline enthusiastic. Walker considered that a win for the century. Satisfied (and a bit smug that he'd managed all of this by himself), the warden set about dressing the little boy for the day. It was no easier looking at those scars a second go-round, and he doubted it'd be any easier the hundredth time. But he muddled through, finally getting Danny's stick-thin arms through his shirt and buttoning the straps on his overalls. They were a bit baggy even though they were meant for a two or three-year-old. But the length was alright, and Danny liked them. He'd gone and wrapped up in that blanket again; however, Walker decided it was likely a comfort thing.
So, in his mind, it didn't matter all that much.
Walker remembered to ask permission before scooping the kid up, settling his skinny-self comfortably in the crook of one arm. He used to do this with Bullet's kid until he'd gone and grown up on everyone. Taylor had been more partial to shoulder rides; something told him Danny wouldn't be ready for that for a long while yet.
The house was quiet, and he didn't dare try to check on Spectra. If she was a pain in the neck when she was sober, he didn't want to think about what she'd be like hung-over and madder than a wet hen. So he bypassed the guest room and made his way down to the kitchen, flipping on the light as he went.
"Alright, kiddo, what d'ya want for breakfast?" Walker questioned. "I'm thinkin' pancakes. Maybe some oatmeal."
Danny's fingers were cold on his collar-bone, toying gently with the fabric of his tank. But the little boy hummed quietly, nodding, and that was all the answer that Walker needed.
"Good. Y'all want to sit on the counter while I make 'em? You can help me make the batter if ya want."
God Almighty, he'd never get over how dadgum hopeful the kid looked over certain things. Danny looked like Christmas had come early, grinning up at him around that blanket. His white hair was sticking out in big tufts all over his little head. Had it not been for all the scars, how thin his face was, the expression would've been downright adorable.
Not that Walker was an expert in such things. . .
Very carefully, Walker set the little boy on the countertop, trusting that he wouldn't move or touch anything. Had it been any other kid, he wouldn't have turned his back. As it was, Danny was content to sit on the countertop, wrapped up in his blanket and watching with frank curiosity. He glanced at the clock – 0730. Perfect time for pancakes. Maybe some eggs if they were feeling it.
As Walker got all the ingredients together, he hummed some country song he'd heard from a confiscated radio, lyrics playing quietly in his head.
I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. And I fear no evil because I'm blind to it all. In my mind and my gun, they comfort me. 'cause I know I'll kill my enemies when they come. . .
He began mixing the batter, still humming, and grinned when Danny leaned in closer to get a better look. "Ya wanna help, punk?"
Timid, Danny nodded.
"Alrighty, then. C'mere, an' I'll show ya how."
The little boy pushed the blanket off his shoulders and shuffled a bit, allowing Walker to set the mixing bowl in front of him. He guided the kid's hands as they mixed, making sure none of the still-dry flour got onto the blanket or countertop. Danny actually managed to giggle when he added the milk, only for his expression to freeze in horror, eyes wide as his shoulders hunched in on themselves.
"Hey, bud, it's alright," Walker soothed. "Y'all can laugh as much as ya want."
Danny glanced up at him through a curtain of white hair. "No bad?"
"Nope. You laugh and talk and ask as many questions as ya want, an' no one here's gonna call ya bad for it. I promise. Understand?"
There was fear lingering in his bright green eyes, but Danny didn't dissolve into a panic attack. There was no rocking or hyperventilating. So that was good at least. The little guy swallowed thickly, and it looked like he was trying to piece everything together. Gently, Walker ruffled his hair, making sure he didn't startle the kid when he did so.
"You'll figure it all out. Don't worry."
They finished mixing the batter in comfortable silence, Walker still humming the song from earlier, occasionally whispering some of the lyrics as he worked. He took care to make sure Danny was far enough away from the burners when he turned on the stovetop, flicking a pat of butter onto the skillet to keep everything from sticking.
Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life. And I will dwell on this earth forevermore. So I walk beside the still waters and they restore my soul, but I know that when I die my soul is damned. . .
"What shape do ya want yer pancake in, punk?" he asked.
Danny hummed in thought, snuggling deeper into his cocoon. Then he glanced up, voice a bit more confident than it had been before. "Rockets?"
Rockets, huh? Well, he'd never made a rocket-shaped pancake. But there was a first time for everything. He turned to face the kid and give him his full attention. Seemed like the decent thing to do.
"Y'all want a rocket?"
Danny's smile was small and heart-breaking, scared to hope. His shoulders hunched in on themselves a little. That would never do. He poured the batter, managing to keep everything in a somewhat rocket-like shape. Couldn't make a perfect one. But at least they'd taste good. He waited a few minutes, waiting for the bubbles to form around the edges. Then he turned to look at the boy again.
"Alright, then, kiddo. Wanna help me flip it? Or y'all just wanna watch?"
The little boy pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders a bit. But his smile widened, and he nodded towards the spatula that Walker was gripping. A burst of pride. Carefully, Walker scooped the kid off the countertop, allowing him to rest in the crook of his elbow. It took a short second to maneuver Danny's thin fingers into position around the spatula, and the warden kept a firm hold in order to help keep everything from going south.
"Now, just slide it under and give 'er a twist," he directed. "Gently, though."
He could see Danny's tongue poking out between his lips, brow furrowed in concentration as his wrist flicked at the spatula. It turned beautifully, cooked like a charm, and Walker couldn't help but grin at the pride that flashed through the kid's eyes.
"Good job, kid. Wanna sit back down?"
Danny nodded. Walker sat him on the countertop again, tiny feet peeking out from beneath the blanket, and the little guy actually smiled. It was genuine, thankful. And Walker cursed himself internally for returning it because, dangit, he was going soft. Soft did not work for a warden.
But, looking at this kid humming in his blanket, he decided that soft might just work with Danny.
"Well, isn't this just a Hallmark moment?"
. . . there went his good mood.
The sing-song tone came from behind him, and Walker berated himself silently for not hearing Spectra coming downstairs. He turned to shoot her a glare over his shoulder, hands frozen. And he managed to keep the scowl going. Even though warning claxons were glaring in his head. Because holy crap, the woman was smirking up at him, green eyes dancing, and he hadn't realized how horribly weak he was.
She was built like a brick outhouse, clad in a pair of yoga pants and a tunic-top, hair falling in her face, and Jeremiah Walker came to the sudden, gut-wrenching realization that he was in Trouble. Capitalization non-optional.
"Hi!"
Danny's voice erupted beside him, small but excited, and he turned to see the kid smiling. Walker returned to the pancakes. And if he flipped them with more force than was absolutely necessary, that was no one's business but his. He'd caught how Spectra's expression softened. Tried to ignore how she smelled like fresh shampoo as she sauntered over to them.
"Well, hello there! Are you having fun?"
Her voice was genuine, curious, and Walker wondered how she could adore the kid so much when she literally ate misery. Danny nodded, rocking a bit in his blanket cocoon, and hummed in affirmation.
"We makin' rockets."
Christ, that was cute.
Not that he'd ever admit it.
Spectra was smiling so wide it was wonder she hadn't hurt herself. She reached out a pointer finger and tapped the kid on the nose, and somehow her smile managed to widen when Danny giggled softly. With a gentle question, she'd managed to pick the kid up – blanket and all – and settled him on her hip. Danny snuggled against her happily.
Which wasn't precious at all. Nope, not in the slightest.
"You've been a busy little boy this morning!" Her voice was dripping enthusiasm despite its low volume. "Did you have a good night?"
Crap – shouldn't 've asked that.
Walker could see Danny's smile drop out of the corner of his eyes, silently pleading to the good Lord that he wouldn't mention anything about their sleeping arrangements. Even though he wanted the kid to feel better.
"I gots nightmares," the boy near-whispered. "Slept wif' Mr. Walker."
Dang it.
Spectra blinked in surprise, glancing up towards him with a questioning expression. He could feel his shoulders tightening, and he tried to ignore the pain that still flared in his lower back. Danny had stiffened in his blanket, staring up at the woman holding him with a frightened, pleading expression. This was ridiculous. If she couldn't get over her own prejudices against him for Danny, then. . .
The smile returned, and Spectra bounced in place. "That's the funny thing about nightmares, baby. They're not so scary when you've got somebody nearby. Did you have anymore, or did they get better when Walker stayed with you?"
Dang – she was good.
At least Danny was smiling again. Even though Walker wanted to punch something. Hard.
"Got better. He scared 'em off."
Walker's ego got a bit of a boost at that. And then he caught sight of the wicked look in Spectra's eyes, the way her grin sharpened around the edges as she turned to him. His ego took a flying leap off a very tall cliff. It died a painful death along with his patience for the day. Well, patience for her at least.
"Well, then, it appears you are good for something, warden!" Spectra cooed, voice lilting and dripping honey. "Looks like that perma-scowl doesn't just scare off dates. You can use it on inmates and bad dreams."
Do not blush. Do not blush. Do. Not. Blush!
Growling, he narrowed his eyes in annoyance at her. "Keep talkin'. See if I feed yer sassy rear."
It was in that moment, he knew – he'd screwed up.
Spectra's grin widened, and the gleam in her eyes grew near-manic. He lost his battle with the blush, and heat spread across his cheeks and up his ears. This was not how he'd wanted to start his day with her. Walker decided he'd already lost the battle, returning to the pancakes and finishing up the oatmeal he'd started earlier. Maybe he'd add some blueberries? Blueberries were good. Not as good as raspberries, but those were out of season.
"Alright, big guy. Let's eat!" Spectra cheered. "You think you can handle eating part of a rocket? Or do you want to eat some oatmeal first?"
Walker plated a couple of pancakes and tuned out of the pair's conversation.
It was going to be a long day. . .
~*O*~
Penelope woke with a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and a whole fucking heap of regret.
She groaned quietly, pushing her face into the fluffy pillows and wondering what the hell Walker had put in that damn bourbon. It couldn't have been later than eight. Nine, maybe, and that was pushing it. Penelope didn't particularly care how she knew that little tidbit – being dead gave one a bit of an impressive internal clock – but she did care about being awake. With a hangover.
At eight in the goddamn morning.
There was a cheery, obnoxious little voice in the back of her head that told her to stop being a lazy bitch and get her ass out of bed. It sounded suspiciously like Bertrand. Which was annoying and concerning because how the hell was he getting in her head all the way out in the Zone-boonies? Whatever – she was too hung-over to think about shit this early.
Penelope groaned one more time before throwing back the duvet. She nearly yelped when the cold air hit her arms. Holy shit, why was it so fucking cold? She could feel the goosebumps rising along her limbs, crawling up her back, and Penelope hissed when her bare feet touched the hardwood.
Socks. Shower. Normal people clothes. Food.
In that fucking order.
Grumbling, swearing quietly, Penelope picked out an outfit that screamed "I'm lazing around the house today" and made her way towards the bathroom, a pair of her thickest socks sliding on the floor as she walked. Her eyes were dry, on fire, and her mouth felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton balls. Each step throbbed in her temples. But she'd suffered through far worse than a damn hangover, so she downed a glass of water and got in the shower, scrubbing down under a cool spray to wake her up a bit.
The water worked (somewhat) and soon Penelope was toweling off, legs newly smooth and hair hanging down in choppy waves around her face. Well, where it wasn't knotted around all those damn cow-licks. Grumbling, pissed-off and cold and still fucking hung-over, she worked a comb through the tangles. Did she want to fix her hair today?
Her stomach roared at her, for once actually craving normal food.
No – no she did fucking not want to fix her hair.
She shook the moisture from her head out one last time, practically yanking her shirt and pants on before stepping out of the bathroom. Something, though. . . something was off. She couldn't put a finger on it. But something wasn't normal. Well, as normal as she could tell, anyhow. They'd only been here, what, a day?
Penelope stood still and listened.
It was quiet. Very quiet. But there was the soft murmur of voices drifting up from the kitchen. Well, a voice, anyway. Walker's voice. Frankly, she was surprised she could hear him – baritone as his voice was, sometimes it was nearly impossible to catch from a distance. But in this house, in the quiet, it rang out like a bell.
Curious as to what he was doing, Penelope made her way downstairs. There weren't any lights on upstairs – not including the ones she'd not bothered to turn off – but there were lights on in the kitchen. It glowed brightly in the early morning dim. Penelope hissed. Shit, this wasn't doing her hangover any favors. In fact it was stabbing her hangover in the fucking cranium.
Why the fuck did she care again?
"What shape do ya want yer pancake in, punk?"
. . . Danny was down here?
Penelope made it down the last few steps, making sure to keep her footsteps silent as she made her way around the corner. She hovered for a moment in the doorway, unsure. Because what if Walker was still in that damn tank-top? Alcohol made her less, you know, graceful than usual. But those arms were just absolutely unfair, and she was hung-over, and she didn't know if she had the willpower to watch herself this morning.
"Rockets?"
Penelope stuck her head into the kitchen, gaping in astonishment at what she saw.
Walker was hovering over the stove, still in those goddamn pajamas. But he was talking quietly, and she could practically see his customary scowl as he poured batter into a skillet. Danny, though, was wrapped in a thick blanket and perched on the countertop, watching the warden with rapt attention. Ectoplasm threatened to creep down his cheeks. But, for some reason, it hadn't. He looked almost relaxed.
"Y'all want a rocket?" Walker asked, turning to look fully at the little boy.
A tiny, heart-wrenchingly hopeful smile crossed Danny's thin face. He nodded, shoulders hunching in on themselves. Unconscious defensive body-language, likely verbally abused for long periods. . .
"Alright, then, kiddo. Wanna help me flip it? Or y'all just wanna watch?"
The little boy pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. But he didn't disappear into it, so there were already signs of progress. Penelope couldn't help it. She grinned when Danny nodded towards the spatula, and Walker plucked him from the countertop, big hands appearing even larger against the child's thin chest. He tucked Danny up against him, allowing the little boy to rest in the crook of his elbow as he handed off the spatula.
"Now, just slide it under and give 'er a twist. Gently, though."
This was fucking gold.
The big bad warden turned into a damn marshmallow for a four-year-old.
Shit, where the fucking hell was a camera when you needed one?
Penelope reclined against the door frame, arms crossed, and watched it all unfold. Walker helped Danny maneuver the spatula, big hand dwarfing the boy's thin digits as they shook. They flipped the pancake together, Danny still wrapped in his blanket, and it was perfect. Damn –she couldn't even boil water without burning her lair down. Where the fuck had Walker learned how to cook?
"Good job, kid. Wanna sit back down?"
She hadn't noticed before. Walker had actually been paying attention to her when she talked to Danny. He was quiet. Asked permission. Kept his movements slow and broadcasted them well. Penelope caught her smile widening, and the moment she did, it dropped into a scowl. Because she was proud of him, damn it all, and that was not how this shit was going to work! Not when it was Walker, with his stupid rules and his ridiculous Texas accent and his fucking Adonis-arms. . .
. . . fuck, she was doomed.
Walker had sat Danny back on the counter, his little feet just barely poking out from beneath his blanket cocoon. He was smiling. That little boy was smiling, and it felt like her heart was going to explode. Which was strange and foreign because Penelope was thought by many to be heartless. She wasn't. Pretty damn close in certain situations (mostly involving teens) but not fully.
Still, it wasn't like her to get attached to little kids. But here the fuck they were.
Penelope stepped fully into the kitchen, bare feet padding quietly on the hardwood. "Well, isn't this a Hallmark moment?"
Judging by the way his shoulders tensed, her barb hit the mark. Walker glared at her over his shoulder, hands not moving from the stovetop. Those damn muscles were mocking her. Because they were glorious. And beautiful. And they belonged to a fucking prick.
Danny, though, was all smiles. He rocked in his blanket cocoon, little head peeking out as he grinned up at her.
"Hi!"
The greeting was hoarse and rasping, timid as always, but so full of hope it made her want to simultaneously hold him to her chest and choke a bitch. Penelope ignored Walker in favor of Danny. The Lone Ranger got his fill of attention nearly every day – he could be overlooked for once. So she smiled at the little boy and walked over.
"Well, hello there! Are you having fun?"
Danny nodded, still a little apprehensive, but his hum of content was enough confirmation. "We makin' rockets."
It was quiet, so very quiet, but there was legitimate confidence in that little voice now. Penelope felt like an idiot, grinning so wide her cheeks hurt, but it was worth it to witness that smile. She gently tapped Danny on his little button nose and he giggled and it was quite possibly the cutest thing she'd ever bore witness to. Ever. Very carefully, she lifted him from the countertop, settling his slight weight comfortably on her hip and preening a little at the fact that he snuggled against her almost instantly.
"You've been a busy little boy this morning!" she chuckled. "Did you have a good night?"
The blanket wrapped a bit tighter around his little shoulders. Danny's smile dropped a bit, and he shrugged apprehensively. Dammit, and she'd been doing so well.
"I gots nightmares," the little boy whispered. "Slept wif Mr. Walker."
Okay – so that was unexpected.
Walker's shoulders were wound tighter than a two-inch spring, and he finished up the pancakes with quick, jerking flicks of his wrists. She probably could've bounced a quarter off one of those biceps. Maybe a half-dollar. . . dammit, it was happening again! Danny was still watching her, still tense, a tad frightened. So Penelope smiled at him, swaying in place.
"That's the funny thing about nightmares, baby," she explained. "They're not so scary when you've got somebody nearby. Did you have anymore, or did they get better when Walker stayed with you?"
Danny's smile returned, like the sun peeking out from behind a thunderhead. "Got better. He scared 'em off."
"Well, then, it appears you are good for something, warden!" She couldn't help it – the setup was just too damn perfect. "Looks like that perma-scowl doesn't just scare off dates. You can use it on inmates and bad dreams."
Walker's glare probably could've chipped cement. "Keep talkin', see if I feed yer sassy rear."
Oh, the possibilities!
But Danny was listening. . .
But it was wide open. . .!
Penelope settled for a good laugh at the warden's expense. And judging by the blush that crossed his cheeks, he'd figured out exactly where he'd fucked up. Walker grumbled to himself, plating up a couple perfectly-cooked rocket pancakes and grabbing a small bowl of oatmeal that she hadn't noticed. Danny was still smiling, one little hand coming up to play with her hair as he snuggled against her collar-bone.
He was bony, startlingly light, and still panicked at the slightest provocation.
But he could still smile – and to Penelope, that spoke volumes about his resilience.
"Alright, big guy, let's eat!" she cheered. "You think you can handle eating part of a rocket? Or do you want to eat some oatmeal first?"
Danny bit his lip, forehead creased in concentration. Then he glanced up at her timidly. "O-meal?"
"You want some oatmeal first?" She was kind of shocked and a bit relieved; she didn't know if his stomach would handle something as rich as pancakes.
A nod, and Penelope couldn't help but press a quick kiss to the boy's nose. She relished the fact that he giggled at her. Her, not Warden Dick-head. She grinned, flouncing over to sit at the table while Walker got the rest of their breakfast ready.
"Well, then!" she gasped. "Oatmeal it is, little prince!"
Danny flushed at the new nickname, pale cheeks turning a light green. "I no prince," he rasped. "I ghost. Mommy said so."
Shit had hit the fan, and were she not trying to get a handle on her temper, Penelope would've wondered how Walker managed to get the little boy talking. She tensed, hands frozen on Danny's ribs. Her fingers fit in the divots between the bones. And here was this kid, this four-year-old, who was staring up at her like she had all the answers in the world. But she couldn't make her fucking brain work.
A plate with thick pancakes clunked onto the table before her, followed by a small bowl of oatmeal and blueberries.
"An' who says ghosts can't be princes, kid?" Walker growled. "Seems to me you could be both."
Danny huddled back into her again, little fingers winding gently into her hair as he thought. Penelope couldn't decide if she wanted to smile or scowl. Leave it to Walker to save her ass and make her look like an idiot in the same breath. Still, better not look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Walker's right, sweetie. Ghosts can be princes or princesses." God, the words – they burned. "Just like humans can be princes or princesses. Why do you think you can't be a ghost and a prince?"
His thin face scrunched in confusion, and Danny's hands tightened a bit. Not painfully. But enough to know he was getting nervous again. Penelope managed another smile and kissed him on the temple, coaxing the little boy to relax bit by bit.
"We'll talk some more later," she soothed. "How's that sound?"
The tension in Danny's tiny frame eased again. He nodded, content for the moment, and opened his mouth for the first spoonful of oatmeal. As she fed the little boy his breakfast, Penelope caught sight of Walker's expression. He'd hunched over his meal, stabbing into his pancakes and syrup viciously, and his expression probably could've give a gargoyle a run for its money.
She'd deal with that later.
Penelope hummed quietly and fed Danny a spoonful of oatmeal, watching his expression as he munched away. The little boy's face lit up with excitement, and she took note that he was much less distrusting of food this morning. Which made her suspicious because food-distrust and anxiety weren't conditions that just disappeared overnight. But he was eating, opening his mouth immediately for another bite, and he was more relaxed this morning than she'd ever seen him.
So. . . gift-horse, won't look it in the mouth.
Still, it was fucking annoying.
Danny opened his mouth and hummed for more, little hands squeezing gently on her forearms, and Penelope couldn't help but chuckle. "You're so freakin' cute, it's criminal, kiddo."
He ignored her, opened up for more. But that was okay. For now, food was more important.
"You 'oughta slow 'im down," Walker suddenly called. "He's gon' make himself sick."
Penelope scowled. He was right again, dammit, but she didn't want to admit that to him or anyone. Because as far as she was concerned, he didn't know shit about fuckall.
"Danny, honey, smaller bites. You don't want to be sick."
. . . he didn't know anything.
~*O*~
danny's tummy is full and he's in clothes for the first time in forever, and he thinks that he would very much like to take a nap now, ms. penny.
this is so strange. he doesn't know what to do with himself. because he's wrapped in a blanket and ms. penny has him in her lap, fingers through his hair, and his eyes still ache and his tummy still feels like it has a ball of ice in it. but there's no hurt, no needles no yelling no skaal-pulls, and mr. walker said that danny was his boy now, that he was gonna be safe no matter what.
danny doesn't know if he believes that, not really, but he wants to. he'd even talked earlier, nails in his throat and trying not to fall through the floor. ms. penny likes to give him kisses and mr. walker likes to call him nick-names like daddy used to and they both are so very very nice. they think he's a good boy even when he's not, and danny wonders if jazzy would have liked it here.
he thinks she would have liked it lots.
a yawn stretches his jaw wide and danny snuggles back into ms. penny some more, listens as she laughs because her laugh is kind of pretty and maybe, just maybe, if he tries real hard, he can sleep without having nightmares.
no mommy, I'm danny I'm danny I'm sorry please don't mommy, and then there's cutting and medicine that burns his tummy, he's so hungry, doesn't know what's happening it hurts it hurts it hurts mommy why why why?!
fingers run through his hair and ms. penny kisses him on the forehead, rocks back and forth and back again, and danny hums because this is nice. this is nice and there's no hurt and he wants to make sure he enjoys it while he can. they'll stop loving him soon. mommy and daddy stopped loving him.
that makes danny's heart ache and he snuggles against ms. penny's chest and tries to forget.
the blankets are warm, wrapped tight around him like a hug, and danny feels so sleepy, even though his eyes still ache a little. he smiles because ms. penny rocks back onto the couch, pulls him closer, holds him tighter, and danny wonders if it will always be like this? cuddles and kisses and blankies? rocket pancakes in the mornings? that would be amazing – even though he doesn't deserve it.
but. . .
but mr. walker said that danny wasn't a bad boy. that he was a very good boy and he followed the rules and danny thinks mr. walker was telling the truth. because his voice might be funny and turn up at the corners but he has very serious eyes and he reminds danny of mr. sanchez, who was a police-man and paulina's daddy. police men help people, danny remembers, and they have very serious eyes, and danny thinks that maybe, just maybe, mr. walker can help him too?
his head hurts.
he wants to nap now.
"Danny, baby, you need to stay awake for a little bit longer. I know you're tired, but you won't sleep tonight if you nap all day."
her voice is very quiet and it doesn't sound mean, but danny is tired. let him sleep, please? wants to sleep. ms. penny bounces him a little bit, jostles, and her hand brushes across a scar on his back and. . .
it hurts.
danny gasps and he doesn't mean to, body goes tense, and he tries to hold his breath to keep from crying because, please, don't be mad, ms. penny he didn't mean to! was an accident mommy I pressed the button it's me it's danny I sorry and he didn't mean to jerk, didn't mean to make noise. . .
"Sweetie, you're fine. It's okay, Danny. I'm not mad. You're fine, little man, shush now."
the air in his chest catches on his ribs and danny hiccups, and it hurts, but ms. penny rocks him some more, kisses his nose, rubs a circle on his back and remembers where the hurt-places are and danny realizes that she'd hurt him on accident. he's so confused. ms. penny said that he was a ghost what've you done with my danny, ghost? why are you here, ghost? ghost ghost ghost mommy says it like it's dirty, like it's nasty and daddy's screaming at him ghost! but she didn't make it seem like a bad thing. she said he was a prince and a ghost and a very good little boy. she can't be right can she?
but maybe he's wrong?
danny is so confused.
it hurts his head.
he just wants to sleep until it doesn't hurt anymore.
"Spectra? He alright?"
ms. penny hums quietly in his ear and danny remembers that mr. walker was still here too. he shakes and shakes and sucks some air back into his lungs. more hands in his hair. bouncing. a kiss on his temple. danny feels his muscles relax and doesn't hold on so tight because what if he hurts ms. penny on an accident too?
"He's fine. I caught a scar on accident, didn't I, sweetheart?"
danny hiccups again. it hurts. but he's used to it, and it's a dull hurt, not a burn-break-cut kind of hurt, so he can handle it. he nods, peeks out from his blankie and sees mr. walker has changed clothes. he's tall and his chest looks very wide in the button-up shirt he's got on and it reminds danny of that one time daddy wore a suit for jazzy's school conferences. daddy had looked very strange when he wasn't wearing his jumpsuit.
but mr. walker is not daddy. he's very different. because he's got a white face and it looks like a skull, and he's got very serious eyes and can be scary but his smile is nice, and danny thinks he would be a very good daddy.
ms. penny rocks him some more and mr. walker comes to sit on the couch with them, leaning back against the cushions. danny thinks that he looks very stiff.
"Y'alright, kiddo?"
he's got a deep voice, but it stays quiet and quiet is good, so danny answers him. ms. spelka always said that manners were very important, and it's rude not to answer someone when they ask you a question, he remembers. and so danny says I ok and tries not to shake anymore even though he's still not sure he believes there will be no more hurt. . .
mr. walker looks like he's going to answer and then there's a knock. . .
knock knock knock against the lab door and jazzy's calling for him through the door, danny, bubby, are you down there and danny tries to scream he tries but his throat hurts so so bad. no noise comes and he can hear jazzy crying and, no no no no no he's here, jazzy, honest! he's not a ghost, not a bad boy, he's not except jazzy never answers and mommy comes back and yells at him and daddy hits and hurt hurt hurt
danny gasps again, shakes some more, and ms. penny holds him tight and the rocking comes again, and he's trying not to cry because he's not a bad boy right? he's a good boy right? mr. walker had said so and ms. penny had said so and they're so very nice so maybe they're not lying? he doesn't want to go back and he doesn't want to be bad anymore. doesn't want to hurt doesn't want nightmares doesn't want his tummy to gnaw itself because he's so hungry.
and ms. penny rocks him back and forth and back again and danny tries to bury himself in her chest because she is safe and she is warm and. . .
"Johnathan Walker, y'all know dang well to let me know you're comin' beforehand!"
oh no oh no oh no mr. walker sounds angry, deep voice like thunder and it growls and danny feels like his chest is going to explode, his tummy very cold, and he chokes on a sob and ms. penny holds him tighter. kisses his forehead. whispers and tells him it'll be okay and danny tries to believe her, he does, except. . .
his mind screams liar liar liar pants on fire quit lying.
"Aww, c'mon, Pops! You know I don't mean nothin' by it! I think the cam-chain is going out in my Harley, and I thought you could help me take a look at it real quick."
new voice. a man. not very old, kinda low but it sounds like he's not super worried about mr. walker being angry. and ms. penny has gone very still, very stiff, but she keeps shushing him, running her fingers through his hair, and danny wonders who this person is. more hurt? come to take him back? doesn't know doesn't want to know so he'll hold on tight to ms. penny and pray.
"Johnny, I've got a new arrival, and he's real. . . sensitive."
sensitive? what's that mean? danny tries to take a big deep breath and the air comes in, makes his chest push out, and ms. penny tells him he's doing a very good job and it sounds like there's a smile in her voice.
"Aww crap, Pops, I'm sorry! I didn't know. . ."
new voice again. sounds like an apology.
"That's why yer s'pposed to let me know before, Johnny." a sigh. "C'mon in. I'll take a quick look an' see if I can salvage that hunk 'a junk."
footsteps, door creaking, more footsteps. danny doesn't want to look. doesn't want to know.
"Penny? What're you doing here?" the voice sounds curious, surprised. "I thought you an' Bertrand had some sort of scheme goin' at Casper High?"
ms. penny shifts and her arms hold him a bit tighter, a hand against his head.
"We did. And then Bullet came and tied me in a sack. So here I am."
"This the new kid?"
danny goes very very still. this man noticed him, sees him, and that isn't safe. people aren't safe, no one but mr. walker and ms. penny because they promised they would never hurt him, wouldn't yell or hit or needles-cutting-hurt. but this person has not promised and this person is new and danny just. . .
he can't. . .
"Johnny, keep your voice down. He doesn't do well with loud noises."
boots on the floor, heavy, and danny feels goosebumps crawling up his arms and he squeaks, doesn't mean to, holds tighter to ms. penny and tries to disappear in his blankets. his legs are wrapped so hard he can feel them shaking.
"Seriously, Penny? You don't even like kids – why're you helping Pops with this one?"
ms. penny snorts.
"I'll give you exactly three guesses, Johnny. Why the hell do you think I'm helping him?"
quiet. then. . .
"He threatened you, didn't he? Pops is good at that."
"It was either help him or a thousand years in solitary."
"Jeezus, that's harsh, even for him."
there's movement under him and danny thinks that ms. penny is shrugging and he's very confused because she's talking to this stranger, doesn't think he's a bad person, even though he hasn't promised. maybe he's not bad? not going to take him away?
"Yeah, well, he's stubborn as hell and wasn't going to let me leave even if I'd wanted to. Doesn't really matter now, anyway. I can't just leave Danny with him. Warden Jack-ass would lose his mind if I did that."
danny thinks about batman and jazzy and mr. walker's serious eyes and tries to be very brave. he opens his eyes. he looks.
this man isn't like mr. walker at all. he kind of reminds danny of a couple of the teenagers that help ms. spelka out sometimes, the ones that read them books and play games. he's got blonde hair and green eyes and he's wearing a very big coat, gloves without fingers. they keep calling him johnny and danny thinks that it fits him, just like the crooked teeth in his smile.
"Danny? That's a pretty cool name for such a little dude."
johnny looks at danny and then the smile drops and he steps back and danny thinks oh no oh no oh no more hurt can't handle please don't. . .
"Holy shit!"
ms. penny lets danny dig back in and shushes, hands in his hair. danny can't stop shaking, and there's something on his cheeks, sticky thick and it gets in his mouth and it tastes sweet and then a thumb wipes it away.
"Shhh! Are you trying get us both an earful?!"
"What the absolute hell happened to his eyes?!"
his eyes? what's wrong with his eyes? what's wrong with his eyes?!"
danny sucks in more air, shakes, claws at his head and rocks and tries to make the voices screaming in his head just be
quiet
but they won't. they won't they won't they won't what's wrong with his eyes they hurt and he doesn't know what's happening?!
"Okay, jackass, if you can't be trusted to keep your goddamn mouth shut, then go outside and leave Danny alone! You being a moron is not helping him in the slightest."
"Says the one swearing in front of the kid!"
"Get. Out."
ms. penny sounds annoyed but danny thinks it isn't at him. but the voices are screaming, calling him a bad boy and a liar and a ghost and everything bad in the world and danny just. . . he can't. and ms. penny rocks him and holds him close, the boots thump thump thumping away on the hard floor and danny can't help it anymore.
he cries and he cries and he cries and he tries to ask what's wrong with me?! but he doesn't think the words come out right.
but ms. penny swallows and hugs him real tight and kisses his face, whispers against his temple and she sounds very sad, like she's trying not to cry.
"Oh, baby, there's nothing wrong with you. You've just had some very, very bad things happen, that's all. Hush, now, sweetie. I've got you. I'm going to make it better. Walker and I will make it better. I promise."
danny can't stop crying and it hurts in his chest and his face and his eyes and his heart and he wants to just make it all go away. . .
more rocking. more kisses. more fingers through his hair and the blanket around his shoulders.
danny just wants to sleep, please, ms. penny, he's so very tired.
"We'll make it better, baby."
he wishes he could believe her.
A/N: Holy shit this chapter is an absolute UNIT!
This one was a bit of an emotional roller-coaster, right? I tried to keep everything moving somewhat forward (relatively speaking) and we got a glimpse of Johnny this time! Yay! As always, things with Danny are somewhat of a "one step forward, two steps back" kind of deal. I hope that was conveyed somewhat in his section of the chapter. Which didn't flow as well as I'd hoped but fuck it. This was as good as it was getting.
Thank you all so so much for the lovely reviews! Keep them coming! Constructive criticism, praise, hatred for my absolute dickery towards Danny, I'd love it all!
As always, I'll see you in the next chapter (whenever the fuck that happens)
BlackRosePoetry