Walker loved his kids.
Really, he did.
Most of the Ghost Zone thought that there wasn't an ounce of love in his cold, dead heart. To be fair, they were criminals and he was trying to enforce some modicum of discipline in what was, essentially, an endless wasteland of anarchy. It was a hard line to toe between being strong enough to make people listen and being downright cruel. Sometimes, Walker found himself on the latter side of the line. But his kids?
His kids were just that – his.
Johnny was his first. Had the worst luck of any person he'd ever met, living or dead. Brat smoked like a freight train when he thought no one was looking. And that dang Shadow was a menace. But he was also a pretty good big-brother and could fix just about any sort of machine he wanted if he'd just stop being lazy for two seconds.
Ember was a spitfire with a heck of a temper, swore almost as much as Spectra (which was a horrific thought), and one of the most talented musicians in the Zone. She could be downright sweet when she wanted to be or a nightmare when someone set her fuse off. Had a heck of a sweet tooth, too, which made it hard to keep any sort of desserts in the house at any given point in time.
Taylor was rambunctious and needed a spanking on a good day, but he was also clever and happy and an absolute riot when he started cracking jokes. He had trouble paying attention. But determined was his middle name – made more evident by the record time he'd set mastering his new prosthetics – and there was nothing the little brat couldn't accomplish if he wanted to.
So yeah, he loved his kids to the Moon and back.
But sometimes he wanted to beat them all within an inch of their afterlives.
Walker growled as Ember and Skulker (seriously, what she saw in the hunt-happy moron, he'd never understand) devolved into another round of bickering. Johnny wasn't helping, sprawled across the couch like he owned it and chiming in every now again with something to goad Ember on.
Five minutes.
Danny and Taylor had been playing for five minutes, and he was ready to throw them all out on their rears just so he'd have some peace and quiet. Christ's sake, he hadn't even got to put on his clothes yet!
"Skulker, if you don't drop it, I swear to fuck you're gonna be chewing on my boot for the next month!" Ember snarled, hair blasting towards the ceiling.
Walker snapped. "That's it! Ember Marie, you sit yer narrow behind down an' quit swearin'! Johnny, if you don' get yer feet off my couch, I'm gonna plant yer nose 'round on the side a' yer head! An' Skulker if ya can' stop eggin' m'kid on, get outta my house!"
For a moment, everyone sat in stunned silence. Slowly, Johnny sat up and planted his feet firmly on the ground, swallowing thickly as he leaned forward to start taking off his boots. Ember was much less contrite, but sat cross-legged on the floor anyway, arms crossed with a pout. Skulker just quirked a steel eyebrow and bore his crooked teeth in a wide grin.
"I was wondering when the warden would rear his ugly head," Skulker grunted. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd been whipped by that one over there."
He jerked his chin towards Spectra, who hadn't been paying a lick of attention. She'd been too busy staring up at the landing overhead and gnawing anxiously at her fingernails. The bandages on her forearms were glaringly white and, despite himself, Walker felt his chest burn angrily on her behalf.
"Shut yer mouth or I'll throw ya in solitary for a month!" It was a bitten off command, practically shaking.
The overgrown bucket of flesh and bolts had the gall to snort at him, and Walker could feel a headache coming on. It couldn't be healthy for his blood-pressure (ectoplasm pressure?) to be this high, even if he was dead. His hands were so tense that he could feel his knuckles beginning to pop one by one.
Spectra glanced their way for a moment, green eyes still shadowed, and suddenly Walker realized exactly why she was so anxious. Any second she wasn't seeing Danny was, in her mind, a moment Bertrand could be using to take him. Walker was reasonably certain that the night before had simply been a scare-tactic, a display of power to make sure that she remembered who was "in charge" so to speak.
He'd seen it plenty of times before. Bertrand wasn't a special kind of monster; he was just a stronger version of the same old song and dance.
Still, he needed to get her to relax before she tore her nails clean off.
Walker shot one more glare at Skulker before he stalked over to where Spectra stood. Gently, he rested a hand on her shoulder. "Sugar, ya need ta relax. He's gonna be alright. Tay'll come get us if he needs to."
She glanced at him again, eyes darting between the fingers on her shoulder and the look on his face. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth, gnawing, and Walker groaned internally when he realized Danny had picked up the bad habit from Spectra of all people. He let his hand drop, running it through his hair, and his shoulders slumped forward.
God Almighty, he was so tired.
"Pen," he coaxed lowly, "come sit down. Please?"
This time, she turned to look at him. Walker bit his tongue when he noticed she'd slammed her mask down in place, the one that made it impossible to read her. He hated it when people did that. For some reason, he hated it more when she did it, and that made him a bit uncomfortable. Spectra didn't say anything. She glanced up the stairs one more time before slowly making her way over to the couch, dropping onto the leather with a boneless kind of exhaustion.
Walker sat on the arm closest to her, rubbing at his temples with one hand. "God, 'm getting' too old fer this."
Ember snorted. "Does this mean I'm allowed to keep calling you old, Papa? 'cause that might make up for getting stuck with Tay at the Truce party this year."
Beside him, Spectra managed to crack a tiny smile, though her hands were trying to strangle themselves in her lap. Johnny dissolved into wheezing laughter. Skulker just rolled his eyes.
"You, little miss, are on thin ice ta begin' with," Walker warned. "Ya know dang well that Taylor's a handful an' that I always have a good excuse when I can't make it ta the party. What were y'all thinkin', bustin' in like that? Ya could'a really done some damage today."
The expression on Ember's face closed off, sullen and churlish. She crossed her arms over her knees.
"We just wanted to see the new kid, that's all," she griped. "I didn't think it'd be this big of a thing, jeez!"
Johnny rolled his eyes, propping his foot up on his knee. "I told you both it was a bad idea but NOOO! You an' Tay are a couple of little shits, ya know? Thought Skulker was gonna blow a jet tryin' to keep up with you guys. It's not cool, dig?"
He was going to grind his teeth to dust before he hit two hundred. "Swear one more time, Johnny. See what I do." Beside him, Penelope snorted. "You can hush 'fore I lose what little sense I got left."
"Oh, do you have sense now? That's news to me, Tex." Her voice was quiet, but it dripped the confident sarcasm she was so well-known for.
Walker knew she was covering her own anxiety, but did it have to be directed at him? Sighing, he scrubbed his fingers through his hair again, trying to ignore the way his kids (and Skulker) were gawking at the pair of them. When he looked back at her, Penelope looked entirely too proud of herself.
"Hush up, you," he growled half-heartedly. "Yer the reason 'm thinkin' 'bout reinstating the swear jar again. Though, 'm pretty sure you'd need a swear barrel."
Johnny snorted behind his hand and shot them both a grin. "Really, Pen? I didn't think anyone could make Pops bring back the swear jar after Em."
"She's a nightmare, honestly!" The warden tossed up his hands in exasperation. "One of the smartest people I ever seen an' she can' make it fifteen minutes without swearin' unless Danny's in the room. Beats all I ever saw."
"Okay, first of all, that's fucking rude," Penelope griped. "Because I'm sitting right here listening to you. Second, I can so make it fifteen minutes without swearing. I choose not to because it pisses you off. And third, I'm not paying any money to some stupid ass swear-barrel just to feed your complex."
. . . . he'd invited this into his life. Willingly.
And, at this point, he wasn't sure how he'd managed to muddle through three kids without her.
Not that she'd ever know that.
"My 'complex'," Walker began, arms crossed across his chest and brow furrowed, "is bein' sure that yer smart enough ta express yerself without swearin' every two seconds. An' that yer swearin' like a maniac just ta get under my skin."
Spectra glared up at him, and even though he hated when she got that set to her jaw, Walker was kind of proud that he'd managed to get her to stop fixating. Then she smiled, slow and evil, and his stomach dropped.
"You just make it so easy, Tex," she crowed. "It's like poking a hungry bear. Or a toddler with a bad temper."
Walker could hear Ember and Johnny choking on air. Ember was face-down on the carpet, shoulders shaking as she tried to reign her laughter in. Johnny's face looked like it was about to spontaneously combust. Skulker didn't even try to hide his laughter, though, great guffaws billowing out of him as he thumped back into the recliner.
"Yer worse than them, ya know that?" the warden griped. "At least m'kids listen to me sometimes. You jus' sit back an' sass me all day."
Her grin widened. "What can I say? You're an easy target and I need someone to make fun of. Can't let my skills get rusty, after all, and I would never talk to Danny like this."
"No, you just talk ta me like this in front of 'im."
"Oh my God, would you two get a room, already?" Ember cackled. "I can smell the UST from here!"
Johnny flailed, shushing her so hard that he fell off the couch in a pile of limbs and cigarette-stained leather. Ember dissolved into helpless laughter again, not even attempting to get away when he scrambled over and practically flopped on top of her. They wrestled and slapped at each other for a few minutes, like a pair of little kids. Skulker was a useless lump on the recliner, wiping tears from his eyes.
"Shut up!" he hissed. "Shut up, shut up, shut up, Penny might actually know what that is?!"
"T-the look on Papa's face!" Ember howled. " 's like. . . oh my God!"
Heat crept into Walker's cheeks. Even though he wasn't entirely sure what UST was, he could read the implications. He wasn't stupid, dangit.
"Y'know, sometimes I regret dealin' with you punks," Walker grumped. "Yer a pain, every last one a ya."
When he looked at Spectra, he'd expected to see her grinning at his ignorance. He'd expected her to start firing off shots designed to poke at what remained of his self-restraint.
What he hadn't expected was to watch her go pale, the color draining from her cheeks until she looked physically sick. The little witch could be utterly shameless sometimes. She could cuss a blue-streak and tell jokes that made him blush, and he'd been a Marine, for Christ's sakes! And then he thought back to what she'd said, to the bandages on her arms and the handprints around her throat and his stomach sank to his knees. Her hands were trying to strangle themselves on her lap again.
"Ember, Johnny, shut yer mouths," he ordered, voice low.
The pair looked up at his tone, confused. Ember was still giggling.
"Why, Papa?" she teased. "Aww, are we making you and your new girlfriend uncomfortable?"
Penelope flinched.
"Both of you can it!" Walker snarled.
And they did, eyes wide, confused. Walker ignored them. "Pen, they didn' mean nothin' by it. It's jus' a joke, 'kay?"
Her gaze darted between him and the others, occasionally tracking to shadows in the corners of the room. "Nothing is ever just a joke, Tex. And you know it."
It came out a whisper, fierce and scared.
The warden made an executive decision that he was going to destroy Bertrand if he ever got the chance. "He ain't gonna touch you again. I meant it earlier an' I mean it now."
Johnny and Skulker looked confused. Figured – the two weren't exactly the brightest bulbs in the pack, even though his eldest tried, bless his heart. Ember, though, was glancing between them with that look in her eyes. The one that she'd gotten when he'd taken her cigarettes and she'd retaliated by wrapping his entire office in tin-foil.
He did not like that look.
Walker opened his mouth to say something. Except he never got around to it because Taylor's voice, high-pitched and panicked, bellowed from the top of the staircase.
"Papa! Papa, something's wrong!"
Spectra up and running before he could even fully register what Taylor had said, but he wasn't too far behind her, taking the stairs two at a time. They hit the landing at a full run, and he had to catch Penelope when her foot slipped on the runner.
But there stood Tay at the end of the hall, eyes wide and breath puffing up in big clouds.
Wait.
Breath clouds?
"What happened?!" Spectra barked.
Taylor flinched, and Walker clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Pen, don't. What happened, bud?"
Sniffling, the ten-year-old rubbed at his eyes, shaking a bit. "W-we. . . we were playing, and I think I scared Danny, 'cause he got real quiet, so I stopped and we sat down to talk. But I think I said the wrong thing 'cause he got real still and then he was shaky and now there's ice everywhere and he won't move, Papa, I'm so sorry!"
He'd barely gotten it all out before Penelope was shoving past him and into the bedroom. Walker rested a hand on Taylor's head quickly, smoothing it over his hair as his boy burst into tears. "Ya did good, kiddo. It's gonna be alright, ya hear? Go downstairs an' sit with yer brother and sister for a sec, 'kay?" Taylor nodded. "Good boy. G'on now."
Taylor ran off, footsteps clunking unevenly as he went. The air was getting colder around him, goosebumps raising along the back of his neck and bare arms. Walker rushed into the bedroom. . . .
And nearly busted his rear.
Ice covered the floor, thick and smooth. It spiraled up the bunk-beds, the dresser, the walls. His breath – even though he didn't necessarily need to breathe – puffed in a thick fog around his mouth and nose. Fear crawled its way up his throat, and Walker made his way over to where Spectra stood in the center of the room. She was clinging to Danny.
The air was so cold it burned.
"Shhh, baby, it's alright. I'm right here," Penelope soothed, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. "You're just fine."
Danny sucked in a rattling gasp of a breath. But he wasn't shaking. Not this time. His body wasn't even moving, just trembling with cold and stiff as ice crawled over his fingers. "Mama, 'm sorry. Don' hate me, please, please, please."
At this point, Spectra was shivering. Hard. Walker wasn't entirely sure it was just due to the cold. Panic was written on every line of her face.
"No one hates you, sweetheart," she whispered. "Shhh, little love, deep breaths. Remember? Follow me."
She took an exaggerated breath, trying to coach him through the attack. But it wasn't working this time. Danny had dissociated completely. The ectoplasm leaking from his eyes was a mixture of electric blue and toxic green. It froze in rivers on his cheeks. The little fingers clinging to Spectra's top were covered in ice, blue and purple creeping from the nails to the joints.
He was freezing, right down the bones.
" 'm sorry, Mama. Mama, 'm sorry."
It was a desperate plea, rasping as it escaped Danny's tiny frame. The room got even colder.
"I've got you. I've got you." Spectra could hardly talk through the vicious chattering of her teeth. "I can't get him to calm down. Walker, he's too cold. This much ice, it's too much for his body to take!"
She was panicking. He could see it in her eyes.
His military training took hold, and Walker didn't hesitate anymore. He snatched Danny up, tearing the little fingers frozen to her top away and marching towards the stairs. Penelope's voice was a distant murmur under water, rushing through his ears, nothing but white noise. Danny was like a block of ice, thin limbs locked tight with cold. His lips were blue. Frost crept along his cheeks in odd patterns.
His boy was Fading.
"Ember!" Walker felt his throat work, vocal cords raw. "C'mere, now!"
She met him at the bottom of the stairs. "Papa, what the hell. . . ?!"
He didn't give her time to finish. Instead, he shoved Danny at her, pressing every inch of the little boy's frame against Ember's chest. She gasped, eyes wide. Walker watched her hair fan out, compensating for the sudden drop in temperature. He barely took note of the way his own teeth chattered, how his fingers had turned blue and his arms shook.
"Keep 'im warm, warm as ya can," he ordered seriously. "Yer the fastest one here and the one that runs hottest. Get him ta Frostbite. He'll know what t'do."
Ember stared at him for a minute. "Papa, I don't. . . I can't. . . !"
"Dammit, Ember Marie, this is important!" Walker snarled. "You can do this, and you will. So get goin'! Danny'll Fade if ya don't!"
It fell like a curtain over her face. Determination. Confidence.
Ember nodded once. Then she was off like a shot, Skulker holding the door open for her as she blasted through it. The cyborg followed on her heels. His engines roared and rattled the windows. Walker was still underwater, core thrumming and ears ringing and fingers shaking. Penelope was yelling at him from somewhere. But the words didn't quite make sense.
Johnny tossed a jacket at his face, the heavy insulated one that smelled like menthol cigarettes. There were keys in the pocket. "Take my bike, Pops. It's faster. Kitty's helmet's on the back – it should fit Penny just fine."
He moved on autopilot.
Shrugged on the coat. Nodded, thumbed the keys. Stepped through the busted front door. Penelope's hand was in his, clammy, clinging too hard. When had he grabbed it? Didn't know. Didn't really care. One foot, then the next. To the bike, sitting too low. His back would hate him later.
Still, didn't matter, Danny needed him.
Penelope was talking again. Yelling? She was crying. Big tears like crystals. There were hands on his chest, smacking at him. It didn't matter. He tried to be gentle, really, but there was a river rushing through his skull and Danny was freezing, and then she was sat on the seat behind him. The engine was hot, growling, heat scorching at his calves. Was he wearing shoes? Maybe? His toes were cold.
It didn't matter.
Johnny might not've been able to put a cam-chain on by himself, but he kept the thing in model condition otherwise. It surged into drive. There were gouges in the front yard. Penelope's arms were wound tight around his middle. Too tight. He couldn't get a good breath. But she was shaking. Shivering? It was freezing. Did she have a coat? Shoes?
He'd have to ask Frostbite for something – the Far-Frozen was terrible.
The Harley roared. Maybe. There were bubbles in his ears so he couldn't be sure. He skirted the edge of the event horizon. Ember had gotten a couple of minutes on them, if that. But she was barely a speck of blue in the distance. Little punk-princess was fast.
There was a point in time when Walker would've been really proud of that.
Why did his chest hurt so bad?
Penelope was talking again. He couldn't make out the words. But he could read the tone. She was scared and he'd promised himself she would never be scared again and, God Almighty, how useless could he possibly be? The motorcycle whined. Groaned. His knuckles were white on the handlebars. Penelope's were white around his waist. Everything was cold. The wind was shrieking in his ears.
It didn't matter.
Skulker's Island was nothing but a blur in his peripheral vision. The prison was a distant thought. They blasted past Technus's workshop and Desiree's palace and nothing mattered but the feeling of Penelope shivering against his back and the fact that Danny was freezing.
There.
The Far Frozen, up ahead.
It loomed, a gaping maw of ice and snow and furry, rule-breaking monsters. His toes were screaming at him. His fingernails were turning blue. Not a problem. He was dead anyway, and his body was stronger than that. Walker leaned into a turn, weaving through massive fingers of ice, dodging ice-worms that lunged at them from beneath snow drifts. So much white, shadows turning it gray, and he was locked inside his own head with the silence.
It was like this in the trenches except there was smoke everywhere and young men screaming, filled with shrapnel, and his ears were bleeding and mud filled his boots and the cold seemed to seep into your bones until there was nothing but ice and blood and the smell of death.
Autopilot could be a wonderful thing because he didn't realize how much time was passing until he had landed, the bike slipping on loose powder and pipes blistering his calves. His pants were too thin. The wind ripped through them. Penelope had huddled as far into his back as she could go.
Walker swung a leg over the bike. Crap – he had forgotten shoes. Float up, expend some energy, and the blizzard on the horizon was wailing out threats. He turned to look at Penelope. She wasn't wearing shoes either. He'd have to threaten Frostbite for some. Or maybe not. Frostbite might've been a fluffy pain in his rear, but he was soft when push came to shove, especially over women and children. Maybe he'd even convince him to hand over something for his skin – his knuckles were cracking like old paint.
There were guards near the entrance to the village. One a man, the other maybe a woman. It was hard to tell here sometimes. Walker grabbed Penelope's hand again, tugged. She was talking again, lips moving, and he could see ice crystals in her eyelashes. Still couldn't hear her, though. Huh – that was weird. Didn't matter. They had to get moving.
One guard sneered at him, all yellow fangs and amber eyes, and Walker snarled right back. But they let him through, didn't stop his progress at all. It'd been a while since he'd got to fly this quickly – Danny would let him go moderately fast, but top speed was out of the question – and his stomach dropped with the force of it.
Ember knew where the medical facility was, knew where to go and who to threaten. He'd taught his little girl well, after all. It shouldn't have taken her long to get there. It didn't take them long. Not even when his toes were numb, and his fingers felt like they were going to drop off. Something pushed him forward. Not Penelope, he was pulling her, but something. Pushing between his shoulder blades and nudging his legs, one foot in front of the other. Another step. Another burst of flight. Keep moving forward, it said, there's no choice.
Wait.
He's in the medical center.
When did he get here?
Walker blinked, clenched his fingers and turned to Frostbite. The big monster looked more serious than he'd ever seen him, brows furrowed over his amber-red eyes as he looked at the little boy in the de-icing chamber. Ember was with Penelope, one arm wrapped around the shade's shoulders as they shook. Their fingers were pressed to the glass. He didn't know why. Danny was asleep, eyes closed, fingertips still tinged black and purple from frostbite.
Hah! That was a pun.
"You were right to bring him here, Warden." Oh, Frostbite was talking. "Had young Ember arrived much later, the damage to his body would have been irreversible. Physically, he was in no condition to deal with an energy buildup this severe. Tell me, how did you come across a child in such a terrible physical state?"
"He formed that way." He was floating away, but his body wouldn't stop talking. "Danny was abused and experimented on before his death. It's been slow progress."
Frostbite growled. The muscles under his pelt rippled, claws flexing, arms crossing. "I have been called a monster many times, Warden, but the soul who did this damage to a child is truly monstrous. You should take care to make young Danny use his ghost powers moving forward. He's only been letting it out in small increments. Because of this, his ice energy became irritated, and something triggered this attack. You got very lucky. Next time, the outcome might not be so favorable."
Great shaggy monsters were not tactful. Walker could understand that. Tact was for those who had time and patience and emotional ranges that went further than irritation and disappointment. His toes were cold. His chest was numb.
"Thank ya, Frostbite. I owe ya one."
A clawed paw descended on his shoulder. Squeezed. It felt very far away. "You have nothing to thank you for, my friend. There are guest rooms just to the right, and my compatriots have provided blankets and shoes for you and Ms. Spectra. Young Danny will have to be in the chamber for the rest of the day. But, as I said before, there should be no lasting damage."
They weren't friends. Walker openly disliked Frostbite. But the giant furry moron didn't take social cues very well. It was made evident by the numerous unwelcome hugs over the years.
He'd have to re-evaluate his opinion of Frostbite and his people.
One more nod, and the Fluffy Pain new friend was gone. Walker stepped forward. He had to watch his step. Fur-runners made paths on the ice floor but that didn't mean he wouldn't eat it. Ember was looking at him. Her makeup had smeared, thick black lines down her cheeks. Her hair kept twisting over itself. She was upset.
"Papa? What did Frostbite say?" Ember sniffled.
"He'll be fine. No permanent damage." His voice floated away the German boy was dying screaming in his ear on a soft wind. "Why don'tcha go on home? Tell Johnny an' Tay what's goin' on for me. Take the bike back. Ya made good time, kiddo."
Ember's lip wobbled, jaw set. Gearing up for a fight. "Skulker already went back to tell them everything. Papa, I can't just leave. . .!"
"Please?"
Hair flickered. Too bright. Too blue. She didn't belong here, too hot and too wild and the ice would creep into her bones and take her fire. "This place fuckin' steals your soul, Gunny. Don't let it win. Don't let it fuckin' win." Least he could do was send her home where she'd be warm and with Johnny.
Ember's shoulder slumped. She nodded at him. Then hugged him tight about the middle. She smelled like cigarettes. Little brat – she snuck 'em when she didn't think he was looking. He squeezed her back and kissed her head and felt the someone push her away. Wait, why was he pushing again?
"I'll see you later, then, Papa." She looked at Penelope. "Take care of him?"
They'd take care of Danny, but why was she looking at him? He was a grown man. No one "took care" of him. He watched over his kids and his prison and that was how it went, watch and protect "Leave 'im, Gunny, he's a fuckin' goner! Keep better watch next time!" and keep everyone safe.
Walker looked at the tank. Danny looked so tiny, floating in his Sesame Street drawers with the scars standing out. Light was funny here, with all the ice and the snow. Made everything too bright, too focused. Hurt your eyes. The scar on Danny's thin chest – God Almighty, you could still count his ribs – was blue and green and purple, mocking. Too stark. It made him angry, too angry to think, so he looked at the track-marks on straw arms then the burns on narrow shoulders then the scars around overlarge eye-sockets and then took a deep breath to count the freckles across a tiny nose. . .
"Walker?"
It was funny, how he'd never noticed the green tinge to Danny's freckles. Sometimes he was too busy wiping syrup or spaghetti sauce off his cheeks. They were cute. Like the gap between his front teeth, the one that made him lisp over certain words when Pen could get him to talk. Or the way he smiled or how he rubbed his nose with his blankie when he was tired.
"Walker, look at me."
This was his fault. He'd taken care of three under-aged new arrivals in the past twenty years. The signs had been there. All of them. Every last one. Abnormally cold extremities, delayed manifestations, stiffness. Danny had been cranky for a few days, refused to be put down. Wanted to be touching them all the time. Kid slept all the time, too. It was all right there, staring him in the face, and he just hadn't seen.
The private looks at him and the left side of his head is missing and his eyes are milky but he grins and charred fingers reach for him and there's someone screaming behind him, mortars falling and machine guns firing and mud and blood between his toes and the body says you should've seen
How could he not have seen?
"Jeremiah!"
Walker blinked again. Tore his eyes away from the de-icing chamber. "Hmm?"
Penelope was staring at him, arms around her middle. "You were dissociating. Quit it. Now."
Dissociating? Is that what he was doing? That made sense. But what expression was that? Concern? Nah – Spectra was head-over-heels for Danny, but they weren't. . . she didn't. . . he didn't know. Words didn't really want to fit in his mind. They floated around like ice cubes in a Coke Danny in a tank bodies in a trench and went straight between his fingers.
"Jeremiah!" There were hands on his cheeks, small with cold fingers, and he jumped. "Look at me! I need you to be here, okay? Take a breath and focus on me."
Focus on her.
He could do that.
Penelope was all but right now she looked tiny. Just as tiny as Danny. Dwarfed by the Far Frozen and its citizens. Her lips were tinged blue. She was still shivering. He looked down and she wasn't wearing shoes? Just like him. Why weren't they wearing shoes again, this place was colder than a well-digger's hind-end? Walker frowned and looked at her eyes. They were glassy. Worried. There were tears.
Had he made her cry?
"Yer cold." It wasn't a question. "take this. It's pretty warm."
His jacket, the one that smelled like menthols, thumped on her shoulders and went almost to mid-thigh. Little witch was all legs. It was distracting sometimes. Almost as distracting as how she blinked at him with owl-eyes. They were so green.
"Thank you," she said, almost a mumble.
The light caught in her hair and it was so long now, brushing down past her shoulders. She almost never wore it in spikes anymore because Danny liked to play with it, liked to twist the strands between his tiny fingers and take naps. Walker swallowed. His tongue was made of sandpaper and filled with gravel.
She shouldn't thank him.
This was his fault, after all.
The bodies grin and their milky eyes say your fault, Gunny
"It's Buildup. Energy Buildup. That's what Frostbite said. Too much regular ectoplasm in his system 'cause he ain't expellin' it like what we do when we, y'know, fly or turn intangible or whatever. Danny's body's so weak he can' handle it, so his ice energy got irritated." His mouth won't stop making words. "'s been goin' on fer weeks. Had ta 've been, t'get this bad. The signs were there. I should'a seen 'em. I did see 'em an' 'm just too stupid t'know what 'm doin' I guess."
His eyes were burning and his chest ached and Walker swallowed down a thick wad of spit that cemented his throat shut. The tips of his fingers were numb. Was he shaking? He couldn't tell anymore.
"It ain' yer fault. You never had a ghost kid ta take care of. You don't know the signs. 'm sorry."
Someone was squeezing his numb fingers. Penelope? Walker looked and she looked back and there was a frown on her face, pulling down her eyebrows.
"Stop that. It's not your fault. We both should have been better about making him use his powers. Stop blaming yourself."
Her voice was thick, but her eyes were sharp, and Walker felt his throat seize. His hands started shaking again. Penelope just squeezed them tighter. Her fingers were strong, despite their size. They were still a little cold.
"I'm sorry."
"I know you are, Tex. Come on. It's freezing, and I want to sit down. It's been a shitty, shitty morning."
Oh, that's right. It hadn't even passed noon yet. What the heck was his life anymore?
It was Penelope pulling him forward instead of the someone pushing him, and Walker was too tired to put up a fight. His head hurt. He was cold. Nothing wanted to move. Frostbite's. . . citizens? Servants? They'd set up a heck of a room. Thick furs and a fireplace and a couch that looked like it could swallow the pair of them whole. Penelope dragged him over to the couch and shoved, stoked the fire for a quick second, and then plopped down beside him.
Her frown hadn't really fallen. Not even as she dragged one of the thickest furs over the top of them. Not even as she huddled against his side and laced their fingers together again. She squeezed until the feeling started to return to them. Walker felt his eyes burning.
"Jeremiah Walker, how in the absolute fuck did you forget to put on shoes?" Of all the things to question him on, that was what she went for? "These floors feel like Siberia had a love-child with fucking liquid nitrogen or some shit."
He frowned. "You ain't wearin' shoes either."
"Ican thermoregulate to extremes. It's part of my fucked-up metabolism. You,on the other hand, are getting frostbite."
Despite himself, Walker snorted. "Frostbite. . .puns 're my favorite."
Penelope was trying to hide a smile. He could see it in the way her lips quirked and her eyes crinkled. "You have the dumbest sense of humor, I swear to Christ."
They lapsed into silence again. Walker could feel the heavy-numb feeling crawling back into his chest, creeping up his neck and into his limbs like static. He squeezed Penelope's hand, felt her press harder into his side. The fire washed heat over his face but it wasn't nearly as effective as her. She was like a radiator.
No wonder Danny preferred when she slept in his room.
"Is he really going to be okay?"
It didn't even sound like his voice, distant and raspy. Weak. Penelope leaned her head onto his shoulder and tucked another fur tighter around them.
"Frostbite said it was close. But he'll be fine. We might need to have Technus come up with something to help him regulate, though. His metabolism is fucked from all the pre-death starvation. It's gonna be a while before he can start managing his powers independently."
Walker nodded. Thought. Then. . .
"You talk like a dictionary half the time but swear like a thirteen-year-old with somethin' ta prove the other half. I don' get it. I jus' don' get it."
This time, Penelope laughed and looked up at him. "That's what you pulled out of that?! Seriously?!"
"You were focusin' on whether or not I had shoes two minutes ago, Pen!" he retorted. "I think we're both a little messed up from this mornin'!"
A thumb stroked over the back of his knuckles, and Penelope rested her head back on his shoulder. "Yeah. It's been a shitty fucking day. Can we ask Clockwork for a do-over? This sucks."
"Nah – Clockwork's a pain when everythin's goin' right. Much less when somethin's goin' wrong. It ain't worth the headache." He paused, thinking for a minute, and frowned. "Although, come ta think of it, if we do it over, I could punch Bertrand in the face. That might be worth the trouble."
Walker could feel the bandages on Penelope's arms brush his wrist. He pulled one arm out and inspected them, glancing up at her. "Are these feelin' okay? The bandages haven't seeped or nothin' but I wanna be sure."
She nodded, cheeks awfully red. "They're fine. You could probably take them off at this point. I think they're pretty much healed."
"No. There could be somethin' floatin' in the air here. I don't want you gettin' an infection because you got impatient. The germs here are nothin' ta sneeze at."
Penelope gave him a Look. "Danny is literally floating in a medical tank a hundred feet from us in a decently modern medical facility. I highly doubt I'll catch anything."
"Don't risk it. Seriously. Frostbite's told me stories."
Snatching her arm back from him – though the other one stayed wrapped around his – Penelope wrapped them both under the fur again. She rolled her eyes. "God, you're fucking stubborn."
"That's the pot callin' the kettle black, sugar."
"What the fuck ever."
The quiet pressed in again. Pushed on his ears and his joints until Walker didn't know if he was decompressing or under a hundred feet of water. He could hear the whoosh and whir of the de-icing chamber, the sounds of the core-monitor they'd hooked Danny to. There were Frost-monsters bustling this way and that. But it was too loud and too quiet and he just. . . he couldn't. . .
He squeezed Penelope's fingers again and whispered, "Ya really don't blame me?"
It took her a second to respond. "No, Tex. I really don't."
A swallow. His eyes burned. "I'd blame me. I do blame me."
"I know." Simple, quiet, but not accusing.
The thumb traced back and forth over his knuckles. Soothing. Quiet. His jaw worked and Walker stared into the fire. Watched it flicker. He wondered if Tay was doing okay. Poor little guy – didn't mean to. God, he was probably blaming himself, too. Stuck with Ember and Johnny and not knowing when they were coming home or what was really going on. Tay was ten. He shouldn't have let him run off without supervision, especially not with Danny, who was a PTSD-stricken, anxiety-riddled toddler.
Why was he put in charge of children again?
Jeremiah Walker wasn't built to be a parent.
"Hey, Pen?"
"Hmm?"
He swallowed. His voice shook. "Thanks fer not lettin' go."
Penelope went very still. Then she tucked further into his side, thumb still tracing back and forth, back and forth over his knuckles. They felt raw but in a good way. Kept him grounded. Kept him from floating away into the stars sinking back into the mud and the blood and milky eyes and dead kids again.
"You're welcome."
They listened to the de-icing chamber beep and waited.
They didn't let go of the other's hand.
A/N:
HOlY fUCkInG sHiT so it's been a hot second!
Wow, I was not expecting this chapter to be this difficult to write. I've had this section planned out literally from the beginning, because I thought that the manifestation of Danny's ice powers in canon was actually pretty Fucking Cool. But when I actually sat down (when I had a minute) to write it, nothing wanted to flow the way I wanted it to. Originally, I had it from multiple points of view. First Taylor, then Penelope, then Walker. But Tay is a hard little shit to write, and Penelope got a BIG fuckin' spotlight in Chapter 11. So I wanted to work with Walker exclusively for this chapter. Yes, I know, ONE point of view in a single chapter? In one of my fics? It's more possible than you think!
Which, incidentally, worked out so well for me?
Walker's personality in this universe is based heavily off of my own dad, who was raised in a strict military household and is very masculine. Huge, too, like 6'5". Literally, I have never seen this man cry. Not even at his own brother's funeral. Anyways, I actually had a car accident when I was in my senior year of high school. I'd slipped on some black ice and slid into the ditch. Not a whole lot of damage but it scared the shit out of me. Keep in mind, it's like ten degrees outside. My dad shows up to get me after I call him in hysterics. And the dumbshit isn't wearing shoes.
The man literally panicked so hard over his daughter crying that he didn't put on fucking shoes to drag my frozen ass out of the ditch.
TL;DR - my dad panicked when I got in a car wreck and went out in Arctic fucking temperatures without shoes on to rescue me. Hence that little detail in this chapter.
On a final note, I would to give a shout-out to all those who might be suffering from PTSD or other forms of anxiety or depression. It's fucking rough, and I know that sometimes it feels like there's no way to slog your way through the flashbacks or the panic attacks. But I want you to know that you aren't alone. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. You matter. You're important.
Keep that in mind, okay?
Live out of sheer fucking spite if you have to.
Anywhore, I know that this story is really fucking heavy so far (I don't need therapy, I swear) and it's difficult to slog through, but it's going to get better SOON. Thank you all so, so much for your comments and support throughout this journey. It means so much to me, you have no idea.
Once again, thank you, and I hope to see you all in the next chapter!