The pain was. . .
He couldn't even describe it.
Everything was pain and pain was everything. His head was swimming, every single muscle in his body seizing in on itself as he tried to make his way home.
Walker had been burned before. He'd been beaten before. He'd been stabbed and shot before. But he'd never experienced anything that felt like all four things at once. His lungs wouldn't fill all the way because his ribs felt like they'd been kicked in. His core throbbed angrily in his chest. There wasn't one solitary inch of his torso, or even his limbs, that didn't throb and burn like hellfire.
. . . this probably wasn't the smartest idea he'd ever had.
Focused as he was on the absolute agony that came from being branded, Walker didn't see the drifting hunk of rock until it was too late. It was smaller than usual. Probably only about the size of a softball. But then the chunk bumped into his shoulder and his vision went white. Walker could feel himself drop, stomach heaving, limbs shaking. He screamed.
He screamed.
Landing hurt even worse, all his bodyweight pressed onto the inflamed glyphs, and Walker managed to roll just fast enough to avoid puking all over himself. He lay on his side and retched for a few minutes. Tears blurred his vision. The whole Zone was spinning. Everything hurt, like his entire body was on fire and getting beaten with a baseball bat. At the same time. It was just. . .
Jesus Christ, what had he gotten himself into?!
"Warden?"
. . . this wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Why was this happening?!
Groaning, sweating, and thoroughly not in the mood, Walker looked in the general direction of Technus's voice. And there he was. Staring at him through those thick black-out glasses with a shocked expression that Walker wanted to punch off his friggin' face. Except that would involve touching someone and moving. So he settled for grinding his teeth and barking, "What?!"
He meant to bark it out like usual. It was best to intimidate when you were a warden of a prison, after all. What actually came out was a hoarse, pathetic croak that sounded more like a whipped dog than a command. Technus stared at him, mouth agape, which made Walker want to punch his teeth down his throat even more. Except his arms wouldn't move. Or his legs. Or anything that wasn't his neck.
"Wow, if I had known this would be what I found, I would have brought a camera!" Technus proclaimed. Loudly. And dramatically.
Walker somehow found the strength to sit up, head swimming as his body screamed at him and core burning like his skin. He was trying to glare at the techno-genius. Because he didn't need anyone else figuring out about his situation. Except his face hurt and it wouldn't do what he told it to anymore. Instead, a muscle spasmed in his gut and he doubled over. The pain blinded him again, fireworks dancing behind his eyelids, and he gagged.
"Ohhhh, boy, that's not good."
From very far away, somewhere out in Timbuktu, Walker could hear something that sounded like concern in Technus's voice. Except he couldn't force himself to care. It hurt. It hurt. the private is screaming and his legs are gone and the burns all over his face smell like cooked meat and he's shrieking it hurts it hurts it hurts gunny help me But he took a deep breath and held it through the sharp, twisting pain behind his ribs to keep from puking. Again.
Then something touched him and the corpse has white eyes and smiles and there's blood on its teeth mud on its skin and it smells like cooked meat Walker nearly crumpled again. Something popped in his jaw, static in his ears, bees and fire ants crawling under his skin, in his chest, stinging everything they could touch. The thing didn't let go, clung tighter, and it was like being underwater again. His head was splitting open. Skull cracking. Bones crunching. Skin blistering, peeling, chafing away.
the private smiles and his teeth are black and it's all your fault and he'll never get the smell out of his nose, charred meat and gangrene and gunpowder and mud and somewhere a wolf is howling are there even wolves in Germany? it doesn't make sense but the private is still grinning and someone is screaming and
"Warden? Warden, I'm going to pick you up. We have to go."
Technus? Why was he hearing Technus?
Oh, right – the little guy had found him.
Walker managed to not scream when one of his arms got lifted, but he couldn't hold back a groan when his body was
p
u
l
l
e
d
u
p
and everything just burning fire pain can't hear too many shells his toes are cold boot and socks and skin soaked through with mud blood rainwater and everyone is starving and we are dying and the private's eyes have sunken in his head but they can't bury him yet, the germans are still firing and he can't breathe without smelling rot and his mouth tastes like gunpowder and he wants to go home and
dissolved into static in the back of his head. Somewhere, he was sure that Technus – who was dramatic and loud and obnoxious – was either panicking or laughing at his good fortune. Other than Plasmius, Walker had slapped more real-world contraband charges on the mad-scientist wannabe than anyone else in the Ghost Zone. So this was going to end one of two ways.
One: he was gonna get drug out to a rock in the middle of nowhere, far from his lair, and left for some monster to eat.
Two: he was gonna be shot through with ectoplasm and left to Fade because Technus wasn't always a peach.
Neither choice was preferable because he'd done this to protect his family. To keep them safe. And now he was going to be destroyed by some technologically-focused, overgrown child with Einstein hair because he wasn't strong enough to put up with a little pain. it hurts, gunny, suck it up, private, we all hurt And that made his pride rear up, puff out its chest, and roar in the back of his head.
But his body still wouldn't listen to him. There were rocks in his arms, in his legs, in his head, and someone had taken a blowtorch and set his core on fire. White-hot, all-encompassing, crawling along his skin. Static kept washing over his ears. Except. . . it sounded like whispering? Kind of like the servants at Nocturne's lair, the ones that looked at him with dead, sunken eyes and smiled around the scars in their lips. They hadn't had tongues. But they'd whispered at him. They had called him "the walker" like his name was some sort of title?
Listen, follow, know, the master is this way. . .
Walker opened his eyes and even though they kept watering, stars dancing, he could recognize where they were. That was the event horizon. That was the event horizon near his lair. How did Technus know where his lair was, again? How long had they been moving?! Technus – oh, yeah, that's what had been touching him this whole time – was wheezing a bit.
"I am not one to comment on physical appearance, warden, but you are the heaviest person I have ever seen. What are you feeding yourself?!"
It was high-pitched, whining, over-dramatic. And right in his ear. Walker tried to make a noise. Except his tongue was too thick. It wouldn't do what he wanted it to. There was a massive gob of spit in the back of his throat. Was he drooling? He thought he might be drooling. God Almighty but this was awful. His hair even hurt. Hair wasn't supposed to hurt. Why did he do this again?
Oh, dear, little warden, do you not remember?
And then he could see Pen and Danny smiling in the living room, playing with a racetrack that took an hour to clean up. And he could see Taylor flying circles around the house after getting his prosthetics, grinning so wide it took up his whole face, practically glowing with happiness. Kitty and Johnny, sitting on the front porch and talking and they were grinning at each other, those two idiots. Ember laughing at a stupid joke he'd made, all jewelry and too-much makeup. He could see it all.
His kids.
Pen.
His family – that was why.
"Just a little further, warden. Geez, do you even have the Ghost Network out here? It doesn't look like it."
Technus was babbling. That meant he was nervous. Or excited. Sometimes Walker had trouble telling because he was so obnoxious. Except, this time he was kind of grateful for the egghead. There was no-telling how long it would've taken to get home (if he got home at all) if Technus hadn't come along. His head still kept rolling like a bladder on a stick, and he still couldn't really make noise other than weird groans, but he could see his lair-bounds getting closer.
"Alright, warden, if you can hear me, brace yourself. We are going to land."
Oh. Well, that was awful polite of him.
Then they landed. And Walker had thought that the pain couldn't have gotten any worse. That it was already maxed out. There had been, in his mind, nothing else that could top what he had gone through in the first moments of making the wards. The rush of fire over his skin, into his bones, burrowing deep into his core until there was nothing but white-hot hurt and screaming it smells like burning flesh. As a Marine, as an officer, he should have known better than to think that.
Because he was absolutely friggin' wrong.
The moment his feet touched the ground, Walker's body lit up with a fresh wave of heat. It was like he'd stepped into a furnace. In August. At two in the afternoon. In Hell. Everything burned, from the tips of his hair to his toes and even his friggin' teeth. The pain was just. . . he couldn't even begin to describe it. Mostly because he was too busy collapsing and trying not to scream. Somewhere, deep down in the pits of Hell that somehow weren't as hot, Technus was talking and trying to get his attention.
Walker was too busy throwing up to really notice.
And then it just. . . stopped.
How, why, and what for, he didn't know, but every single bit of his body was grateful it was over, even if it left him half-stunned and sore. Being covered in raw glyph-tattoos and half-collapsed into a puddle of vomit wasn't exactly fun, either. But anything was better than the pain. Shaking, still trying to comprehend what in the actual Sam-hell just happened, Walker swallowed down another thick wad of spit and tried not to gag at the bitter taste left in his mouth. He was sweating. His fingers were dug to the last knuckle in the dirt.
But he wasn't incapacitated anymore, and that was what counted.
"What on Earth was that?!"
Oh, yeah – Technus was still here. Walker took a deep breath and managed to push himself onto his feet. He took a small victory in the fact that he could actually stand up without assistance this time. Technus hovered uncertainly a few feet away, and his expression was equal parts panic, confusion, and curiosity. Which he couldn't really blame the guy for. Technological wizard he may have been, but Technus was also a scientist. He thought this kind of stuff – wards and such – was fascinating. Didn't make him any less annoying, though.
"Nothin' much," Walker managed to rasp out. "Thank ya fer helpin' me, Technus. I was. . . kinda in a tight spot."
Eyebrows disappearing into his wild hair, the techno-ghost nodded. "That seems to be an understatement, warden. Tell me, did you realize that ward-glyphs would be this painful? Or did you run in without thinking? Because it seems to me like you ran in without thinking."
He had been helpful. He had been helpful and would continue to be helpful with the right persuasion. It would be a Really Bad Idea to punch his teeth down his throat. Regardless of how much he deserved it. Walker took a deep breath through his nose to try and keep his cool.
"Nocturne didn't explain how they worked. He just kinda did it." God Almighty, his throat was raw. "How the heck d'you know about how much wards hurt anyway?"
Technus tossed his head back and cackled. Loudly. "I am Technus! Master of Technology! Do you think that I would not take every precaution to protect my inventions and plans from those who would try to steal them? Why do you think it has been so long since you last managed to raid my lair, dear warden?!"
That. . . actually made since, come to think of it. They hadn't arrested Technus in nearly eight months, longest they'd ever gone since computers became such a big deal. Walker caught sight of a few faint glyphs, outlined in bronze, just under Tehcnus's sleeve. So that was how he kept away from the patrols. He must've had someone (or something) make him a ward to hide his lair from those who wanted to take his technology. Or at least hide his contraband when they were searching.
Sometimes, for all his monologuing and naivety, it was easy to forget how smart Technus actually was.
Walker grunted in acknowledgement and took a ginger step forward. Holy crap, he was sore. He hadn't felt like this since his first few weeks of bootcamp. But it didn't feel like he was on fire anymore so that was going in the right direction, at least. Technus suddenly fixed him with a serious expression.
"Those are some powerful wards you've been given," he started. "What could you possibly need them for?"
"I don't see how it's any of yer business," Walker snarled.
Technus crossed his arms over his chest. "It is my business because I found you delirious and half-Faded in the middle of nowhere covered in some of the strongest glyphs I have ever seen. That, and you are the guardian of my favorite little test-driver. So you will tell me why you need those wards or my services shall no longer be available to you!"
His patience was practically nothing at this point, and Walker wasn't ashamed to admit that. "I will bury you, Technus! Don't you think fer a minute I won't!"
The little nerd had the audacity to shrug at him and smirk at the same dang time. "Fair enough. But I still will not make any communications devices or weapons for you. It would be a shame. Those short-range ecto-radios are quite useful, aren't they?"
He hated everything and everyone and all he wanted to do was go inside, hug his kids, and sleep for the rest of the month.
Was that too much to ask for?
But there was this look that Technus got on his face, a smug, confident look that only appeared when he was absolutely determined to get his way, and Walker knew that the battle was lost. He'd seen that look before. Ten whole seconds before the scientist and Tay declared they were gonna put a canon in his leg. Walker had said no until he was blue in the face then. What happened?
Taylor now had a fully functioning canon leg. And an ion-laser in his arm.
Trying to ignore the throbbing ache in his limbs, Walker ground his teeth and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.
"Fine," he growled. "But it's a long story, an' 'm tired, so yer gonna have t' come in. And before ya come in, there's a couple of new rules ya have t'follow."
For once, Technus didn't seem ready to complain or put on a speech. "Of course. I am Master of Technology, but this is your home. What are these rules of which you speak?"
. . . he was gonna regret this. He could feel it in his bones. Still, Walker jerked his chin towards the front door and slowly started headed that way. Every step hurt like a mother, but he refused to be carried into his own home like some invalid. It was degrading. And if Pen caught them, she'd never let it go. EVER.
Come to think of it, he was probably gonna catch a good earful anyway. Oh well.
"I got a new arrival 'bout a month, month an' a half ago," Walker started, trying not to wheeze. "Name's Danny. He's had it. . . rough, puttin' it lightly. Matter of fact, I was comin' t'find you 'fore I got side-tracked with all this ward business. Because he was abused so bad before dyin', his body can't regulate itself right. He like to have froze himself t' Fadin' yesterday after a panic attack. So no shoutin', no sudden moves, an' if Danny ain't comfortable with you, don't push him. Got it?"
It was hard to tell behind those thick black glasses he always wore, but Walker would've swore that Technus was blinking at him in surprise. His eyebrows had disappeared into that stupid hair again. They were almost to the porch before the scientist managed to say anything. Which was both welcome and a little suspicious because Technus was never speechless.
"I will do my best to abide by your rules, warden," he said, grandiose as always, but much quieter than his usual screech.
All Walker could manage to say was, "Good. That's. . . that's good."
Without thinking, he put his hand on the doorknob, twisted it, and something
snapped!
deep inside his chest and he could feel everything, see everything, somehow knew that Johnny and Kitty were asleep beside Ember on the floor, knew that Danny was sleeping against Taylor and that Taylor was only dozing, knew that Penelope was in the kitchen and he could see and –
He was standing in the entry way blinking at nothing, Technus hovering to his left.
"Are you alright?" It was soft, almost timid, like the other man was scared of the answer.
. . . this was a whole lot of crazy that he hadn't known he was signing on for, and Walker didn't like it.
At all.
"Walker?" Penelope's voice drifted in from the kitchen. "You're back early. I thought you said it'd be closer to one."
She rounded the corner, twisting her hair into a messy bun on top of her head, and promptly froze. Walker fought his urge to wince away as black veins started creeping around Penelope's eyes, growing darker and angrier the longer she stared. Technus squawked a bit and hid, the coward. But, for once, the warden couldn't really blame him. Swallowing thickly, Walker reached back and scratched at his neck. Which was a mistake – he touched a raw glyph back there and, good Lord, it stung like hellfire.
"What. The actual fuck. Did you do?"
Somewhere, deep down in his mind, he'd known that Penelope could be scary if you pushed the right buttons. But Walker hadn't really thought about what would happen if she directed all that towards him. He swallowed hard around the sudden knot in his throat.
Behind him, Technus squeaked, "You did not tell me that Spectra would be here! This is entrapment of the highest order!"
"I can explain everythin'." It was a pathetic croak. Not because he was scared. That was stupid. His throat was just raw. He could never really be scared of Pen.
A muscle in Penelope's jaw twitched. The veins spread further over her cheeks, dark and viscous. Her eyes were hard, but there was something just underneath that Walker couldn't quite make out, and it made his guts squirm a bit.
"That's good. Because you two idiots," she hissed, "are going to explain everything. In the kitchen. Now."
Her voice never rose above a vicious whisper, and for some reason, Walker just sort of wished she'd go ahead and yell at him. Then he remembered Danny, sleeping on the recliner against Taylor's shoulder, the credits to some movie rolling over the TV screen. Without another word, he pushed past Penelope and sat down at the kitchen table. Technus followed behind him like a kicked puppy, settling into a chair as far away from the irate shade as he could possibly get.
"For the record, I would like to state that I had no part in any of what happened to Walker," the electro-scientist declared, warbling like a nervous hen. "I just escorted him home. He did not tell me that you would be here or that you would be angry."
Penelope fixed a boiling glare on him, and Technus wilted into his seat. Jaw working, she crossed her arms over her chest – wait, was that his shirt? and his pants? – and focused on Walker again.
"Sit there. Don't move. I'll be right back."
Her words were short, clipped, and angry. Walker's gut twisted, and he watched her turn and stalk out of the kitchen in silence. His hands were still shaking. His skin still felt like he'd just gotten history's worst sunburn. And every muscle kept trying to tell him that he'd been beaten like a dog for three days straight, even though that hadn't actually happened. But, despite all that, knowing that he'd managed to make Penelope this upset was somehow worse.
It was a bad revelation to make with Technus sitting right behind him.
"Wow! I never would have expected to see Spectra this angry at you, warden. What is going on between you two?"
"First off, whatever goes on between me an' Pen ain't none of yer friggin' business," Walker shot back. "And second, I'd just keep yer mouth shut 'til I can get 'er calmed down. She's liable t'make you cry. Again."
"That was ONE time! And I had already had a very bad day!" Technus squawked.
Penelope came stalking back in not a second later, a fresh towel and a bottle of aloe in hand. "And you're about to have another very bad day if you don't shut the fuck up, electro-dick." She scowled at Walker. "Turn around in the chair, dumbass, and start explaining."
Telling Pen to watch her language at this point, even though the black veins of death (as Johnny called them) had gone, was probably a very bad idea. So Walker did as he was told, wincing. Penelope muttered angrily to herself, yanking open a cabinet door to pull out a bowl with way too much force. She practically punched the faucet on.
"Explain. Now."
Walker shifted to try and mask his discomfort. "Where d'ya want me t' start?"
The water shut off. Penelope walked out of his range of vision again, the now-full bowl clattering onto the table, and snapped, "Why don't you start with how the fuck you got the idea to go and get wards plastered all over your body?!"
. . . yep, she was mad. She was very mad. He didn't really know why she was this mad. But Walker wasn't about to make it worse. So he explained everything. Starting from the interview with Bertrand (which got a disgusted, angry sound from Technus), then to his visit to Nocturne (they turned to soft noises of fear), and he finished by explaining how the scientist had "escorted" him home. And if he left out the parts where he passed out, threw up, and collapsed from pain like he'd never felt before, than that wasn't anything to second-guess.
Throughout it all, Penelope didn't say a word. She listened, dabbing at his back with the towel she'd brought in. And even though she was definitely still hacked-off, Walker was shocked at how gently she worked. It stung, sure, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. When he finally stopped, the kitchen was quiet. Too quiet. Technus kept twisting his fingers in on themselves, gnawing his lip between crooked teeth. Penelope hadn't said a word for the last five minutes.
Then. . .
"You are the bravest, stupidest man I have ever met, Jeremiah Walker." Her voice was low, quiet and shaking. "Do you know what he could've taken? What could have happened?! Jesus fuck, Walker, he could've made you one of his little eyeless puppets that are always floating around! Did you even think about that?"
Whatever he'd been prepared for, that hadn't been it, so he just sat there like a sack of dumb rocks trying to come up with an answer. Technus looked uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable.
"Umm. . . I am not an expert in interpersonal communication," the scientist wheezed. "But this seems like it should be a private conversation, so I shall sit in the other room until I am needed again."
Then he practically sprinted into the living room. And Walker was left alone with Penelope, grasping at something – anything, really – to justify what he'd done. Except she was right, and God if that didn't chafe. Because, no, he hadn't thought about anything other than keeping her and Danny safe. That was all that had mattered, in the moment. So consequences hadn't really concerned him until she'd pointed out that Nocturne could have done anything in exchange.
He had been so focused on protecting them that he hadn't realized he could've lost them at the same time.
"Fucking shit, Tex, say something!" Penelope's voice was thick.
Walker tried to summon up the gumption to explain himself. And the words. But all that managed to come out was, "I wasn't thinking."
A disgusted growl escaped Penelope and she spun him around, face twisted in a half-snarl that didn't quite match the genuine concern in her eyes. "No, you weren't! Why the hell would you do that?! These things could have killed you!"
She had another point. And the sick feeling in his guts only got worse when Walker realized how genuinely scared Penelope looked.
"It didn't really matter at the time, Pen," he explained quietly. "There wasn' a thing Nocturne could'a done t' me that was worse than the thought of Bertrand gettin' his hands on you or the kids."
Her hands were shaking. Penelope sat down heavily in the chair across from him, jaw working, gaze still tinged red. "And what the hell were we going to do if they'd killed you? Just sit here anxiously and hope for the best? Fucking. . . how could you not think about that?!"
"The risk was worth the reward," Walker muttered lowly. "These should be strong enough to keep all of you safe even if – and that's a big friggin' if – Bertrand manages to escape."
Penelope scoffed, rubbing at her eyes with one hand. "God. . . I get keeping the kids safe, okay? I get it. But why didn't you just. . .?"
Hot anger welled up in Walker's chest when he caught on to her line of thinking. "Why did' I what? Jus' kick ya out? Leave ya alone so he could just beat ya whenever he wanted? Lemme tell ya somethin', sugar. That ain't never gonna happen. Ever."
When Penelope lifted her head up, she looked absolutely exhausted. Like she'd been fighting every second for the last thirty years. "Why not? Why do you care so much?"
The words finally came, and Walker's skin cooled a bit, the glyphs sinking deeper. He could feel them, whispering in the back of his head, but the sensation wasn't as weird as when Nocturne's servants had been talking. This was more comforting. Secure. And they'd already had this conversation once before. But, dangit, they were about to have it again because she still wasn't getting it!
"First, no decent person would ever let you go back t' that asshole." Penelope gaped at him in shock, but he plowed forward anyway. "He's been abusin' you fer God knows how long an' this is where it stops. Second, I would never ever do that to you or Danny. You're that boy's mama. He thinks ya hung the moon in the sky. Kickin' ya out wouldn't be fair t' either of ya. And third," Walker gulped to gather his courage, "you're kinda my friend. Yer a foul-mouthed pain in the butt, but yer still my friend. So you ain't goin' nowhere, Penelope Spectra, an' these were what I had t' pay fer that. Got it?"
Penelope just stared at him, wide-eyed, mouth open in shock. Walker almost chuckled. "Close yer mouth, darlin', you'll catch flies," he teased.
"Did. . . did you just swear?" she whispered. "Holy shit, did those things give you an aneurysm?! Are you broken?"
"Issat seriously what you got outta that whole speech?" Walker slumped, a bit disappointed. "'cause I don't wanna have t' explain why you shouldn't have to get beat again."
It seemed like the only thing Penelope could do was blink at him. Her mouth worked like she was trying to find something to say. And deep down, Walker kinda felt proud that he'd been able to leave the Comeback Queen speechless for once. Then she smiled at him, almost a full-out grin, and started to laugh. It bordered on hysterical, shoulders shaking, tears pouring out of the corners of her eyes, and holy crap he broke her. All that time with Bertrand, and it was him who managed to break her.
He was about to start panicking when Penelope leaned forward and hugged him hard around the neck.
Walker froze. It didn't hurt, which kind of shocked him. Where Penelope touched him skin-to-skin, the glyphs actually cooled a little bit, even though it still stung and his muscles were sore. Slowly, kind of afraid he would end up scaring her off, he reached up to squeeze her gently around the waist. She kept laughing against his throat. And he thought she may have been crying a little but this was actually kind of nice? When was the last time he'd been hugged by someone other than his kids?
"If you ever do something this stupid again, I'm going to feed you your own guts," Penelope wheezed. "Got it?"
It shocked a chuckle out of him. Walker leaned his cheek against the side of her head and hugged her harder. "Yes, ma'am. Only do stupid things with your permission."
"You dumb bastard. You big, dumb, beautiful bastard."
"Watch yer mouth, Pen."
Penelope let him go and sat back wiping at her eyes, but the smile hadn't dropped from her face. "Whatever, cowboy. Turn around so I can put some aloe on your back. The base glyphs near your spine are raw."
Walker did as he was told, resuming his position from before, and tried not to groan as Penelope started dabbing aloe along his spine. The hug may not have hurt, but that stung like a mad hornet. Another large glob of aloe hit between his shoulder blades, and he sucked in air through his teeth.
"How the heck d'you know what these things mean, anyway?" Walker asked. "It just looks like a bunch a weird squiggles t' me."
He could practically feel Pen roll her eyes at him. "You didn't even look at them before you let Nocturne burn them into you?"
Walker shrugged. "I couldn' read 'em even if I had. What d'they mean?"
A finger traced around the edge of a raw spot on his shoulder blade. "Bertrand taught me about ward glyphs about twenty years ago. He wanted to know if we could use them in the living world. It's a little fuzzy, but I remember the basics. Each type of glyph corresponds to a portion of the body. Base glyphs go along the spine because they're the foundation of the ward, the backbone. Sealing glyphs are along the limbs because that's where you exert force and strength. The warning glyphs are on the throat to signal communication. It basically goes along those lines. The symbols are a little vague at this point, but they follow the same basic pattern."
As she spoke, Penelope kept smoothing the aloe along his back. His skin was already starting to cool, and Walker let his head drop onto the back of the chair. "Uh-huh. . . that's real nice."
She snorted. "Don't fall asleep, asshole, I can't carry you. And you need to put on a shirt." With a final sweep of her fingers, Penelope capped the aloe and sat back. "There – you're all done."
Groaning to himself, Walker stood up and tried to resist the urge to stretch his over-tired muscles. He glanced over at Penelope and smiled. Well, until she picked up the bowl of water and towel – they were both tinged green with ectoplasm. He winced.
"They aren't bleeding anymore, if that's what you're worried about." Penelope danced around him to dump it into the sink. "This was all dried around the glyphs. It's mostly inflamed skin now, like a sunburn. That's why I grabbed aloe."
Something suddenly occurred to Walker and he frowned. "Where the heck d'you even find aloe? It ain't like we get sunburns."
Penelope shot him a confused look over one shoulder, wringing out the stained towel. "Under the sink in your bathroom. Have you never had it there before?"
Mute, Walker shook his head. "No? Why the heck would I keep aloe around?"
"Because it's useful? And you never know when you're gonna take a plasma blast to the face?" She watched him for a minute, only to make a disgusted noise at the dumb look that was probably stuck to his mug. "You're useless, honestly! No wonder your lair's started making shit for me!"
He tried to cross his arms but. . .
"No, no, no, no, no!" Penelope rushed over and grabbed for his hand, yanking to keep his arms from touching his chest. "I don't know what kind of bullshit hoodoo Nocturne put in these, but I don't want you touching glyph to glyph until they're all healed. I've heard about some weird shit happening to people who accidentally let their wards morph."
Well that was gonna be a fun habit to break. Walker let his head fall back and groaned a bit. "I should'a thought this through better."
"No shit, Sherlock. Now, go upstairs and put on a shirt. And pants that don't smell like burnt hamburgers." Penelope smirked at him.
Snorting, Walker headed gingerly into the living room, praying to whoever would listen that he and Pen hadn't woken up the kids. . .
Except Technus was sitting and talking with Taylor, Danny watching him with rapt attention as he gestured and pointed to portions of the older boy's cybernetic arm. The scientist was explaining. . . something that Walker didn't understand about how the joints were put together, how the energy held it all in place. But Danny just looked enthralled, nodding every so often even though he was half-tucked into Tay's side. Somehow, the older kids were still passed out, snoring in the middle of their blanket fort like a bunch of boozers.
". . . and when Taylor pushes more energy from his core into the arm, it activates a special generator so he can build up and focus the energy into a laser. So it is a laser canon! I am quite a genius for thinking of it, I must say!" Technus proclaimed, crooked grin practically glowing.
Danny grinned, hair sticking up in tufts all over his head, and rasped, "It's a space arm!"
"Oh shit, he got to the kids."
It took everything in him not to choke on his own tongue at the absolute horror in Pen's voice. Walker settled for hiding a smile behind one hand. He leaned a little closer and whispered, "I'm gonna go through the ceilin'. Don' wanna scare 'em. 'll be down in a sec."
Penelope nodded. "Go ahead. I'll distract them for a bit."
Walker didn't waste time in case he got caught. Forcing his sore body to move, he shot up through the ceiling, passing through walls and other stuff he didn't care to think about until his feet touched the bedroom floor. They hadn't made the bed. His robe, the one Penelope had worn earlier, was tossed into a corner. There was makeup staining one of his pillowcases. But Walker smiled anyway because he could see Taylor's blanket folded neatly at the foot of the bed. And Danny's pj's were hanging on the edge of the hamper. And he could just barely make out Pen's perfume, flowery and light.
They were safe.
That was what mattered.
Walker groaned and winced his way through putting on the biggest shirt he owned, trying to adjust the neck so it would hide the glyphs creeping along his collarbone. It didn't fully. But it was the best he could do for now. Still forcing his muscles to move, he grabbed a pair of thick gray sweatpants from the drawer, ignoring the way his gut kept trying to seize up on him. It hurt like a sonuva gun. Eventually, though, he managed to get dressed and stumbled into the bathroom He stared at his reflection for a long moment. It stared back, exhausted and drawn, angry black lines and green-tinged skin peeking out when he moved.
A little curious, Walker unbuttoned his shirt and stared at the glyphs spiraling across his chest and down his abdomen. They weren't quite as thick or angry as the ones on his arms and back, a bit more like actual handwriting. Most scrolled across his pecs in straight lines, like a book he just couldn't seem to read, growing sloppier and bolder the further down they went. But there were five symbols right over his core that were different. They spiraled, looping and almost pretty, tinged red around the edges of whatever ink Nocturne had used to set them. Frowning, Walker traced the edge of one with his finger, a looping swirl that doubled on itself at the top and –
He was looking at Danny, all white hair and electro-green eyes, a smile that could light a summer sky and a giggle that could melt hearts. And he could smell no-tears shampoo, salt, little boy sweat, faint tinges of perfume. Could taste French toast and bacon and grilled cheese with tomato soup. And this was Danny, this was his boy, right down to the very bottom of his guts. Happy, sweet, scarred little Danny with the heart of gold and –
Walker gasped, jerking his hands away from the symbol. His hands gripped the sink so hard it nearly cracked. Scared, shocked, confused, he stared at his reflection a little more because what the sam Hell was that?!
It was like being plugged right into Danny, being able to see every part of his son that he loved, and that terrified him.
Was. . . was this how the wards really worked? They tapped into his core and focused on who he loved best? Then that meant. . .
Taking another shaky breath, Walker glanced at the other symbols swirling over his core, an infinite loop connecting a pair of interlocking hearts. Hands shaking, he hesitated for a moment before finally biting the bullet and touching it, the edges flaring gold as –
And there was Penelope, glaring up at him over the top of Danny's head, all green eyes and red-hair and an absolute ton of sass. And he could smell raspberry shampoo and jasmine perfume and whatever was in the makeup she caked on her face in the mornings. Could taste whiskey in coffee, pancakes covered in syrup, cold pizza. This was Penelope. Who slept in Danny's room to scare away nightmares, who had horrific bed-head, who swore like a stupid kid. Scared, scarred, disillusioned Pen who kept her heart hidden away from everyone but Danny and –
His arm dropped.
Walker stood there for a long minute. Looked at the exhausted, confused man staring back from the mirror for answers. They weren't there, but it gave him something to do while he collected himself. One by one, he touched the symbols wrapped tight around his core. One by one, he saw his kids. Johnny, who smelled like motor-oil and cigarettes and laughed like a thunderclap. Ember, who ran hotter than a furnace and couldn't be quiet if she tried and gave hugs that could crack someone's ribs. Taylor, who had nightmares that left him a wreck but faced the world around him with a smile and always tucked himself right into the corner of the bed and never failed to say "I love you."
One by one, he saw his family.
Eventually, there was nothing left to see.
Still confused, Walker shuffled out of the bathroom and towards the stairs, buttoning his shirt as he went. There were voices drifting up. Technus was talking about something or other, a little too loud but under his usual shout. Ember laughed – oh, boy, she was awake – and then someone smacked her. Probably Kitty, judging by the lack of another loud slap! Penelope was saying something, too, asking Technus questions about. . . oh, they were talking about the regulator.
Good – maybe now he wouldn't have to threaten the little electro-weasel.
Slowly, Walker started making his way downstairs. His collar itched. His entire body ached. And a little part of his soul faded away when he thought about having to clean up the blanket fort the kids had built, things strewn over the loveseat and part of the couch to anchor it all down.
Then Danny's head popped over the back of the recliner, hair sticking every direction. The little boy grinned, all gaped teeth and sunshine.
"Papa! You home?!"
Home – this was the first time Danny had referred to the house as "home" and it made every bit of pain, confusion, and general bull he'd dealt with that day worthwhile. Walker smiled, straightened his shoulders so he wouldn't look too sore.
"Yeah, punk, I am. You been havin' a good day?"
Danny nodded. "Uh-huh! J-Johnny made b'eakfast! Lot'sa gravy!"
Today, it seemed, was a good day. Even though his arms protested (loudly), Walker couldn't help but scoop the little boy up. "Well, that sounds just downright delicious!"
He rounded the recliner and made to sit on top of Taylor, who hadn't been paying a lick of attention. "Scoot over, brat, I'm tired."
Squawking like a wet hen, Taylor managed to wriggle out of the way just in time for Walker to sit down. "Papa, you gotta give me some warning before you do that! You're heavy!"
"You callin' me fat, boy?"
"No, I'm saying you've got, like, thirty million pounds of lead hidden somewhere in your clothes." Taylor could be so dry sometimes, completely expressionless as he said it.
Walker chuckled, ruffling Tay's hair as the older boy tucked into his side. Didn't mean he didn't have to hide a wince, though. He looked over at Pen, who was in the middle of negotiating details with Technus. She glanced at him for a split second. Then went back to what she was doing. Ember and Kitty were arguing to themselves about what movie they wanted to put in next. Johnny was rolling his eyes at the pair, but he could see a smile trying to peek through.
"Hey, Pops."
"Hey, kid."
Johnny lifted an eyebrow. "Rough morning?"
The knuckles on his right hand were still bruised, and he flexed them a little around Tay's waist. "You could say that."
It had been a rough morning.
But. . .
"Hey, Tay, pop in Lilo & Stitch while you're over there!" Ember called. "Papa's got Danny on his lap. He can't get out of watching it now!"
Taylor grinned and hopped up, feet thumping on the hardwood as he rushed to do what she asked. On his lap, Danny was practically bouncing in place, playing with a frayed string on Walker's shirt. He could hear Penelope laughing, the brat.
"Alright, Papa, today's gonna be great!" Taylor wriggled his way back up onto the recliner. "Just pj's and movies – no work! Got it?"
Walker nodded and somehow managed to keep from grinning right back. "Got it."
As the opening credits started rolling, and Penelope somehow managed to shoo Technus out the front door, Walker couldn't help but think today was a good day, even with its awful start.
Penelope curled up on the couch, tucked right in the corner to his left. "Stop talking, boys, the movie's starting."
When the boys weren't paying attention – they didn't really have to worry about Em, Johnny, or Kitty because they never paid attention anyways – she mouthed, "You okay?"
He was sore. He was tired. And the weird thing that happened when he touched his glyphs still gave him the willies. But the kids were arguing. Hucking popcorn at each other. Watching a stupid movie about some little blue alien. And there wasn't a single frown in sight.
"I'm fine."
It was a good day after all.
~*O*~
Be Jazz Fenton.
Dream about your brother. His name is Danny. He is four years old. He is your bubby, with blue eyes like the sky and a smile that makes everyone happy. His hair is black, like Daddy's, and he's got freckles on his nose.
Dream about your brother.
Except it is dark and cold and it smells, like that time you found one of the kitties that had been run over on the street behind a dumpster. And you can't see anything except a big shiny table, with lots of latches and straps in the edge. There's something green on the floor. It's dried and flaky and it smells. There's something on the table. Something in the straps.
You don't want to see.
You don't. . .
You don't want to. . .
Except your feet don't listen and you walk forward. Bearbert isn't here and he is your friend but it's so cold you can see your breath, feet like ice cubes on the floor. Mommy's gonna be real mad. You're not allowed in the lab, not since The Accident.
Not since Danny left and that other little boy it's Danny it's Danny it's Danny, mommy, don't showed up.
There's a sound. It's wet like water in a bucket but wrong because it sounds like someone trying to breathe. But they can't? Your tummy feels sick and your fingers are cold and everything is falling around you, so dark, so dark, so not right. And your feet won't listen to you still. They keep moving you don't wanna see and they just won't stop.
Stop.
Step up to the table. There's a stool. Pull it close to the edge and step up and keep your fingers on the edge even though it's so cold it burns and everything smells. Pull hard on that table. It digs into your fingers but that's okay. Mommy's fingers dig into your arms sometimes, now, and that hurts worse so you this isn't too bad.
No, please, stop.
Stand on the stool. Look on the table.
No, no, no you don't want to.
Look at the table, Jazz.
No no no no no no no no no please no don't want to no this isn't right no –
Look at him, Jazz.
You're shaking and you can't breathe, everything too fast and the world is spinning and the smell is horrible, you think you're going to throw up, and no no no no no because there's . . . .
On the table. There's someone on the table. There's someone with their arms and legs strapped on the table. You're six, you're small, but you know this isn't right. The green stuff keeps dripping. Big fat drops that crash when they fall. But wait, that's not right? It's dry, right? You saw it. Before. You saw it.
Look at him, Jazz.
Keep looking, keep watching, and then it
moves
and you're looking at a sad little boy with white hair and he doesn't have eyes, just big pits in his head, green green green like that smelly stuff that drips on the floor and he doesn't say anything, just stares at you, and he looks so lonely and so scared and like everyone in the whole wide world has forgotten him and he's too skinny. His clothes are ripped. You can see his ribs and his skin is very white, and you can see green stuff running underneath it and he's got freckles across his nose except those are green too and –
NO no no no no no no no no
The little boy stares and stares and stares and you want to scream and you want to throw up except you can't and he just
"Jazz? Jazz, kiska, you need to wake up."
keeps looking at you and his eyes aren't there, just big pits, but they're staring, how is he doing that? Your hands are shaking. It's dark. It's cold. Someone is screaming. Is it you? You can't tell anymore. Because the little boy opens his mouth and he has a gap in his teeth like Danny does and
wrong wrong wrong bad don't like it stop it stop stop stop stop don't wanna see this anymore no
"Malyshka, it's just me. Wake up, dear one, c'mon. It's Uncle Vlad."
he whispers, "Help me help me help me jAzZy" and the world goes sideways and. . .
Be Jazz Fenton.
Sit up and scream in a bed that isn't yours and cry because no no no no no that was a nightmare. It was a nightmare but it wasn't and everything is wrong, now. Wrong, wrong, wrong. There are hands on your arms. Big hands. They're holding you. Oh, no, you didn't mean it, Mommy, honest. Please, don't, Mommy. Please, please, please, you'll be good. You promise.
You promise.
Then someone is hugging you. And it's not Mommy. This is a man. He's got a big chest and his skin is really hot, almost too hot, and his pjs feel weird against your face. But you're so cold and he smells good, like the cologne Daddy used to wear except better, and you let him hug you because you really, really need one right now. Cry when a hand runs through your hair. Cry harder when Uncle Vlad starts talking in Russian.
You woke him up.
He was so nice last night, when you had another nightmare, and now you're being bad and woke him up.
Keep saying "I'm sorry" until Uncle Vlad shushes you. He squeezes a bit tighter, but it doesn't hurt. Not like when Daddy used to hug too hard or when Mommy would grab you by the arm. Uncle Vlad rocks you like you're a baby and then you remember this bed is your bed but not. And you're not going back to Mommy and Daddy you don't wanna go back soon.
"Oh, kiska, it's alright. Shush, now, I've got you. Everything's going to be alright, now."
He sounds a little scared. You scared him.
Then Uncle Vlad scoops you up and so you've gotta hold on tight, arms around his neck, and make sure that he doesn't drop you on accident. He doesn't. You think Uncle Vlad is actually really strong. Don't look at him. He can't get mad if you don't look at him.
That doesn't make any sense but you don't look anyway.
Uncle Vlad carries you down the hall. It's long. And dark. Your heart is thumping too hard in your chest. Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump! like a little rabbit. But it's not so scary now. He opens a door. Goes inside. It's very big in here, with a fireplace and bookshelves. And there's a huge bed, like ones you see in movies about kings and princesses. This must be Uncle Vlad's room.
He walks to another room and turns on a light. It's a bathroom.
Be Jazz Fenton.
Stare at your toes when Uncle Vlad wets a washcloth. Don't look him in the eyes. That's very important. He can't see if you're lying if you don't look him in the eyes. Scrunch up your face a little when he drags the cloth over it. It's cool and it feels good. Your face isn't so sticky anymore.
"There. That was quite the nightmare, little one." Uncle Vlad keeps wiping at your cheeks but he doesn't sound angry, so that's good. "You scared me half to death."
Uncle Vlad kind of laughs like it's a joke. But your insides twist into knots and your fingers are white because they're holding the counter too hard. Sniffle. Gnaw on your lip.
Whisper, "I'm sorry" again.
Your throat hurts. Were you screaming? That's not good – you shouldn't use your outside voice inside.
Uncle Vlad throws the washcloth in the sink and picks you up again. The light goes off. Tuck your head into his neck and keep quiet. That's also very important. You shouldn't talk if you can help it. Let Uncle Vlad set you down and snuggle under the covers. Roll up against his side when he sits down. Try not to cry.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Shake your head. No – you can't. It's a secret.
"Alright, then. Why don't we read another story, hmm? From our special book?"
Wait. Think. Then sit up, rub your eyes, and nod. The stories are magic. Uncle Vlad told you so. They dance in the air and tell you things in pretty colors and soft words. He's a good storyteller. And the way he wraps his arm around your shoulders makes you feel safe.
Be Jazz Fenton.
Listen and watch as Uncle Vlad tells more stories from his magic book.
Go to sleep when he finishes.
Forget the table forget the boy forget everything because you promised.
You can't.
~*O*~
The image on his looking glass fades.
Nocturne frowns.
A/N: Holy shit, so that went from zero to a hundred real fuckin' fast.
I'm gonna keep this short since this chapter is gargantuan, but thanks once again for sticking with me so long! I hope this chapter is to your liking because things are going to be picking up and LOOKING up from this point forward! Leave me a comment to tell me what you think. Even if it is to tell me I'm a goddamn psychopath.
Thanks once again, and I'll see you guys in the next one!