Terminology used in the chapter:
IEP: Individualized Educational Plan. It's a contract between the school and student/student's family (if student is under 18) that dictates an untraditional schooling need. For example, someone who is Hard of Hearing may require to be seated in the front of the room, or for the teacher to wear an FM system to help the student hear better.
PHP: Partial Hospitalization Program. Once the patient is stable enough to not need 24/7 inpatient care, they are allowed to go home from treatment during the evenings. PHP treatment usually lasts 6-8 hours per day for two weeks to a month.
Danny looked up to see all eyes on him. Oh, right. He was in family therapy. Or, kind of family therapy. Jazz wasn't here. Apparently Danny would be too overwhelmed if there were more than two of his family members in the same room with him in the hospital, so Jazz was left to fend for herself in the wilderness that was Casper High. Danny didn't really care either way. After all, Jazz would just cry and try to pick apart his feelings in front of his parents, which was something he wanted to avoid, thank you very much. It was bad enough she had to do it at all. Danny wasn't opposed to saving himself from that potential disaster.
"What?" Danny said.
"How are you feeling about being transferred to outpatient next week, Danny?" his therapist asked, tapping her slender fingers against the sleeves of her emerald shirt.
"Fine."
She nodded as though he just poured his heart out to the audience. "Thank you. And you, Jack? How do you feel about Danny coming home next week?"
Jack looked down at his lap. When he spoke, his tone was soft. "I'm happy that he's finally going to be coming home. But…"
"But?" the therapist prompted.
"But I'm worried. Obviously."
"Why are you worried?"
A wry smile appeared on his lips. "I just love my family too much. When they're hurting, I worry for them. It's my natural response as a parent."
"What about for Danny specifically? What about him moving home worries you?"
Jack's smile fell, and he was silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving the blue carpet below him. "I'm worried because...I don't want to do anything that will cause Danno to panic. I don't want to hurt him. And I feel...I know I'm not the most observant guy around, but this is a whole new territory. And I'm not just talking about the...I mean, it's just everything . There's so much I don't know. I want to know, and I understand why I don't, but I love you too much, kiddo. I don't want to hurt you. You mean the world to me."
Beside him, Maddie started sniffling. Jack wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder like he did every family therapy session. He grabbed a tissue box and handed it to her.
"And Danny? Would you like to say anything as a response?" the therapist asked.
No. What he wanted to do was go take a nap.
"Uh…" Danny licked his lips. Keep it short. Practice it in your head before you say it. You can do it, just say the sentence. "I...I'm sorry if you—uh, you feel um...I'm okay. I'm fine. I—I'll be okay."
Goddamnit. Shit. Shit. He couldn't even get through the sentence. He refused to make eye contact with his family, not wanting to see the anxiety-ridden expressions of his parents because he was supposed to be getting better in inpatient but he still couldn't get through a simple "I'm fine" without stumbling around like a drunken barhopper.
"Danno, you don't have to be strong for us. We're your parents."
"I'm fine, though."
The therapist lowered her clipboard. "It's okay, Danny. This is a safe area."
This was so dumb. Why was he here again? He could be asleep. "Okay?"
"You seem unsure. Why is that?"
"No, no!" Danny held up his hands. His plan to fly under the radar was imploding by the second. "I—uh, I know. It's just...It's just I'm fine. You know? It's—okay, uh, yeah…"
"Okay, Danny." The therapist shifted her gaze. "Maddie? Would you like to communicate with us how you feel about Danny coming home next week?"
"Um." Maddie sniffed, dotting her red-rimmed eyes with a tissue. "I'm very relieved. It's been so long since Danny's been home. So, so long. I just...I feel like my life's been put on hold and I'm so relieved that he's finally coming home. I've missed him so much."
Danny squirmed in his seat, diverting his eyes away from his mom.
"But I'm also so worried. He's only been here a few weeks and—oh, Danny, I'm so sorry—but I'm concerned he's not ready to come home. He...you…"
"What's that?" the therapist prompted.
Maddie crumpled the tissue in her fingers. "It's about Danny's incident yesterday. The one in class? It just makes me so worried about him going back to Casper High because...well…"
Nope. No. He was not getting into this right now.
Trying to keep the irritation out of his voice, Danny grounded out, "I know."
The therapist quirked her brow at Danny. "Yeah? What's going on, Danny?"
"Nothing." Danny tightened his fists. "It was nothing."
"It wasn't nothing, sweetie. You got very ill during class yesterday, which was very similar to when you got ill at Casper high. And honestly, it makes me very nervous about you coming home so soon," Maddie said.
Danny felt his cheeks heat up. He crossed his arms and slumped down in his chair, looking anywhere but at the people in the room. He almost wanted to open his mouth and tell everyone off for forcing him to be here because he really didn't want to deal with this right now and please for just one day couldn't he not deal with his emotions? Just keep them trapped behind a locked door and incinerate the key?
Maddie seemed to take his silence as permission to continue. "It was my fault. I pushed him to go back to school too soon. I didn't want to admit that...that anything like this happened to him. I just wanted things to go back to the way they were. I...I didn't even stop to think about if Danny was going to be able t-to handle it all. It was—I was so selfish. I'm sorry."
Maddie's voice broke. She blew her nose, the sound echoing around the otherwise silent room.
"It wasn't your fault, Mads. We all met with Lancer and the principal. We all agreed to have him attend school again when he came home from the hospital," Jack said, rubbing Maddie's shoulder.
The therapist pursed her lips. "Sometimes our brains refuse to fully accept certain situations because that makes them real to us. It doesn't make you selfish or mean you're a bad parent. It's just our brain's way of coping with a bad situation."
"My brain's coping caused Danny to get hurt," Maddie said.
"Hmm, but it also led to him getting the help he needed, didn't it? The anxiety attack yesterday in school wasn't great, but compared to a few weeks ago, Danny was able to bounce back from it very quickly. He was a bit fatigued directly after, but by the afternoon, he was participating in group therapy sessions with the other teens like normal," the therapist explained, gazing at Maddie with warm eyes.
"Still…" Maddie's voice trailed off, the unspoken it's my fault resonating around the room.
The therapist offered a smile. "Sometimes our decisions may have poor outcomes in the moment but in the long run may lead to the most success. And yes, the past few weeks have been extremely hard for the both of you as parents. No one wants to see their kid hurting. But Danny's here , with a team of people who are here to support him and both of you. He's safe and supported, and so now it's time for you to allow yourself to accept what happened without beating yourself up over it. What happened at school was not your fault, Maddie. It was simply the result of a bad situation."
Of course it wasn't her fault. Danny knew this. Why couldn't his mom?
If Danny hadn't been so weak, he wouldn't have had issues in school.
He wouldn't have had to come here.
He could be home. In bed. Asleep. Not talking to anyone. With the lights out and curtains drawn.
But right now, that sounded too good to be true. And Danny knew deep down that those nice moments in life were not for him. He wasn't allowed peace in his life. And he would never be allowed another peaceful moment ever again. The Guys in White ensured this by gifting him with a lifetime of medical issues and painkiller prescriptions.
Danny shifted, his chest twinging unhappily. A second clonazepam sounded like a dream right now…
Wait, what?
Focus, Danny.
Danny cued himself back in to the conversation. "...but you're sending Danny back to school after the PHP program, aren't you?"
Maddie shifted. "Yes, he'll be going back to school. But not right away. We'll give him some time to adjust, and when we do send him to school, it'll be different this time. We know where we went wrong."
"Can I ask what you're planning for him?"
There was a slight pause before Maddie responded. "Well, we adjusted Danny's IEP so he'll be going to school for only half of the day to start, and he'll only be studying the core school subjects. The learning specialists in the school's learning center will be working directly with him, so his class size will be reduced to about five students and two teachers. All of Danny's teachers are making modified lesson plans to send down to the learning center for him to complete, and they've all said they're willing to come down during a free period and help him if he needs the extra help."
The therapist nodded. "That sounds good. I think he'll really benefit from the smaller class sizes. He seems to do well here in smaller group situations, wouldn't you say, Danny?"
Danny shrugged, keeping his head down. This wasn't the first time nor would it be the last time that adults talked about Danny right in front of him, like he was inept. And in some ways, he was inept. At least, that's what he told himself.
Before the Guys in White, if his parents were making him uncomfortable he could jump straight into the conversation and snap at them. He could say something teenagery like,"Stop embarrassing me!" or "Can you lay off me for a second?"
Everything was different now. His brain didn't react correctly anymore. Thinking took effort, talking took effort, listening took effort. Everything was exhausting. And a lot of the time, he simply didn't have the energy to engage.
He was too fragile to go to regular school. He was officially a special-ed kid. Which, if he was being truthful, he was surprised he hadn't been referred to the learning center long ago, when Phantom first started turning school into an anxiety-filled mess. He guessed he always had decent grades before then—courtesy of being the child of two cutting-edge scientist parents with four degrees and a PhD between them—but even then, a part of him was still bitter no one had done anything. Not a single one of his teachers requested he get sent down for testing or asked he receive additional help. The administration slapped the "lazy" label on him and handed out detention after detention, as if that would to teach him not to fail out of school.
Well, a nervous breakdown in the gym locker room and a diagnosis of mild brain damage certainly did the trick.
"There's some other things too," Maddie continued. Danny heard another tissue being ripped from the box. "He'll get time-and-a-half to complete his tests, and he'll do his test one-on-one with a teacher aide. And when he finally does start reintegrating into the classroom, he'll be seated in the front of every class."
"How long do you plan on keeping this education plan active for?" the therapist asked.
Jack spoke up. "At least until winter break. We're going to reconvene at the end of the fall term and see where Danny's at. If we think he's ready to start going to some more classes, then we'll start that process. And if not, then we'll keep the half-day schedule only. No rush, right Danno?"
Danny shrugged again.
"This seems like a thorough plan. It's very good that you two were able to reflect about the deficiencies with the first plan and adjust accordingly. I know this time has been tough, but please don't forget to celebrate the small victories that have happened, like gathering this IEP in such a short amount of time." The therapist turned to Danny. "What do you think about all this, Danny? This is your education, and it's important that you have a say in what you want your high school experience to be."
Danny unraveled his arms, dropping them to his sides. He pressed a finger into his thigh, as if he hadn't just checked three hours ago whether or not his paraplegia had miraculously been cured, but he felt nothing.
"Danny?" the therapist prompted, her voice a bit softer.
"Um...it's fine."
"Did you have any questions or concerns about your IEP? Anything you wanted to ask?"
"Uh…" Danny played with the hem of his hoodie. It was clear that the therapist wasn't going to let him off easily. A few weeks ago, they might have let him sit there silently during family therapy hour, but now Danny was stable. He had to participate.
He breathed out and tried again. "Will I be going to homeroom? With Sam and Tucker?"
"Yes," Maddie answered. "Lancer actually suggested we leave that as is."
Alarm bells were going off in Danny's head. "Really? I bet...I bet he just wanted to keep a—an eye on me. In homeroom. Make sure I even...I actually showed up to school."
"Now don't say that," Jack said. His voice was uncharacteristically thoughtful. "I think part of it's that he wanted to make sure you're doing okay, but another huge piece that he brought up is he wanted to give you time to see Sam and Tucker since they won't be in learning center with you. Between school, PT, and outpatient, you're going to be pretty busy. I think he just wanted to make sure you get a chance to see your friends too. Danno, I know you and Mr. Lancer haven't always understood each other, but believe me when I say that he's really rooting for you. He's been a huge help through all this."
Danny rolled his eyes and crossed his arms again, not caring about whatever attitude he was showing.
"He's your teacher advocate for your IEP plan, you know," Maddie added in.
"I know, Mom."
The therapist gave no reaction to Danny's moody display. Danny wondered if, deep down, everyone in the room was almost glad to see this bit of adolescent defiance leaking out of Danny. It had been too long since he was able to show attitude without fear of being hurt. Not that he behaved like the government wanted him to while he was locked up—God no, his defiance there led him to a wheelchair.
But this...this was normal. Well, it was as close to normal as he could get at the moment.
"There's also the manner of planning out his outpatient schedule. Danny will be attending the a PHP program, correct?" the therapist asked.
Maddie nodded. "Yes, that is correct."
"Good. I'll still be seeing him for his individual sessions three times a week starting next week. And he'll be in the PHP program for about six hours per day, five days per week. Based on our sessions, the PHP program sessions, and how his time at home goes, that number will slowly go down as time goes on."
"How long will he be going to the PHP program before we can start adjusting the schedule down, would you say?" Maddie asked.
The therapist pressed her thin lips together and shrugged. "It really differs person to person. Everyone's different, and everyone responds differently to the group therapies in outpatient."
Danny's eyes flickered over to Maddie, searching for her reaction. Did she think he wasn't capable? That he was doomed to never graduate from outpatient? But her face betrayed nothing. She was blank, controlled.
"Is there anything we can do? As parents? I want this transition to be as smooth as possible," Maddie said.
"The family unit is the most critical part of this process," the therapist said. She paused, the corners of her lips turning upward. "Maddie, Jack, you both are very capable and empathetic people. As his therapist, I have nothing but good faith in the both of you that Danny will be supported when he returns home on Monday."
Danny glanced over to his wheelchair next to the door. The object of his failure was suddenly melodic in its call to him to sit down and escape whatever the hell this was. Family therapy was always his least favorite time of the week. And the torture of opening up to his family seemed to get worse each session as his therapist prodded new memories and emotions Danny would rather keep shut.
"But is there anything specifically I can do? Please, I just want to help my son."
"Just being there for him, as you have been since he started this program, is all we need in order to continue the healing process."
"Mads," Jack said, rubbing Maddie's shoulder. "We got this. We all do. Right, Danny?"
Danny grunted, his eyes fixed on his lap once again. This was awful. This was so awful.
He wouldn't be in this position if he hadn't gotten himself revealed on television.
Which wouldn't have happened if he had just dodged that fucking attack.
Seriously, how hard was it to dodge an ecto-weapon? The noise they made as they let out a blast was enough of a warning that it was time to move.
This was his fault. This was all his fault.
Now his parents had to be in family therapy with him. And they thought this was their fault. When really, no, it was Danny's fault. But they couldn't see that, could they? They thought it was their fault. They were blaming themselves and beating themselves up. But it wasn't their fault. It was his.
Because he didn't dodge Skulker's attack—
It was all his fault.
—even though he could hear it coming—
He was lucky the government didn't kill him.
—why didn't he just dodge—
It was his fault.
— he let himself be hit—
His fault.
—even if it was a new weapon, he should have seen it coming—
Fuck.
"So, you're leaving then." A quiet voice cut into Danny's thoughts. Danny swiveled his head around to see the Hispanic boy, who stood over his chair with slouched shoulders and an unreadable expression.
"Yeah," Danny said.
"When do your parents get here?"
"Any minute," Danny answered quietly, glancing at the overhead clock. It was technically three minutes past when they said they'd be arriving, but his parents were known for being either extremely early or extremely late to any function whatsoever. There was no in-between with them.
"They seem nice." At Danny's odd look, the boy added, "You know, from what I've seen on TV."
"Oh," Danny said. He still forgot his family was famous now. Danny hadn't seen any of their TV appearances yet, but apparently they'd already retracted many of their theories, slamming the world with hard evidence along the way. All to get Danny home.
All for him.
"They're great," Danny mused. "Weird, but great."
"Yeah…"
Danny's eyes flickered back over to to the boy. His arms were pressed into his stomach, one hand nervously scratching the other. Danny squinted up at the boy his brain slowly figuring out how he should respond. Finally, he blurted out, "What?"
"Huh?"
"You look like...I dunno." Danny waved a hand at him. "Something's up."
"Oh, I just…" The brunette pulled out a chair and sat down next to Danny. He took a deep breath and tried again. "Do you think we'll be friends after you leave? I mean, you're leaving now, and I'm leaving next week. Do you think we'll still talk after I get out?"
Danny averted his gaze. "Sure."
"Okay. That's good. I just—I mean, I know you don't think of yourself like this. But you're like a celebrity and all. And I'm just some loser from—"
"You're not a loser." Danny glared at the table.
"Yeah but I'm not, you know..."
Danny's glare snapped up at the boy. "You're not what? A half-ghost?"
"No! I wasn't going to say that!"
"A science experiment?"
"No, not even!" The teen ran his fingers through his hair, frustration clearly painted on his round face.
"Then what?"
"You're just…" The teen shifted, bringing elbows off the table and onto his lap. "You know. You're so cool. You've saved so many people and helped so many people out. You're like the real life version of DnD, you know? And I get that you're here and I'm not saying that being you has been easy. Because...it hasn't. Obviously. But you have the whole world that cares about you. So many people fought for you, and you have so many people back home waiting for you. Your friends and family. All your classmates. And I just...I have no one."
"Oh," Danny said, staring up at the boy who refused to look back at him. "What do you mean, no one?"
"You know...I don't have friends. At my high school. I'm not like you. I'm not part of the cool group or anything. Kids don't talk to me, and when they do, it's…" his voice trailed off as his eyes shifted up to the ceiling.
'Cool.'
Huh.
Danny Fenton had been called a lot of things—loser, freak, nerd—but cool? That was one word he'd never been called before. And Danny Phantom hadn't heard it in a while either. In fact, Danny couldn't remember the last time anyone had called him, Fenton or Phantom, cool. At least, he hadn't heard it since last spring. When Dash and Paulina ruled the halls, talking about how cool Phantom was, blissfully unaware that he was the same loser they just elbowed into a locker. And Danny…
Danny went about his day as usual. Ignorant as to what was to come.
"I'm not cool," Danny found himself saying. "Before everything came out, I wasn't...people didn't like me very much. The other kids at school."
The teen shook his head. "That's not what I'm saying. You don't get it because you have friends. Not being the most popular in your class isn't the same as—"
Before Danny could stop himself, all his dirty secrets were spilling from his mouth like a waterfall. "Dash—the quarterback—he locked me...locked me in those tall thin lockers. And he and his friends would lean against the door so I-I couldn't get out. They'd laugh. And then they'd...they'd let me out. Which was almost worse. Because...because it was me versus...all of them."
"Oh," the teen said, his eyes as wide as saucers. And for a moment, Danny almost felt embarrassed that after the teen had come to him with his own insecurities about school, Danny had responded selfishly.
But he didn't feel embarrassed. He didn't feel bad about stealing the spotlight once again for his own problems, because goddamnit this was one of the only boys who gave Danny any semblance of friendship at inpatient, and Danny didn't want to keep up the "perfect ghost hero" façade with him any longer. If the public wanted to think his human form was an innocent angel? Fine. So be it. But this teen? Who pushed his wheelchair down the hallway when Danny's chest had a fit? Who sat with Danny during mealtimes and didn't say a word at the various heavy drugs he was given each morning and evening? Who colored with Danny and kept the conversation alive despite his stuttering mess?
No, this boy deserved better. He deserved the truth.
Danny exhaled. "Yeah. But they didn't...something changed. When I went to school now. They didn't...they didn't...I guess it was the wheelchair…"
"Maybe they felt guilty."
"Maybe…"
"Mine won't be so nice when I get back to school." The teen twisted the sleeves of his hoodie. "Oh god, and if they ever found out where I've been...that would be the end of me."
"Tonsil surgery, remember?"
The boy gave a weak smile. "Yeah. Just don't rat on me when we get out, okay?"
"Sure."
It's not like he could rat the boy out even if he wanted to. Danny had no idea what his name was, and at this point, it would be too embarrassing to ask.
As if he could read Danny's mind, the teen reached over the table and grabbed a loose piece of paper and a marker from the art bucket. He scribbled something down on the paper and all but shoved it onto Danny's lap. 'Miguel Cantos 817-431-XXXX'
Danny must have looked lost because the boy's expression immediately turned sheepish as he ducked his head down and muttered, "My cell. In case you wanna stay in touch after we get out."
Miguel Cantos. Danny repeated the name in his head. His eyes flickered back up to the small boy sitting in front of him, who was currently curling in on himself. The teen—Miguel—ran a hand through his short hair, his round cheeks turning red at Danny's continuous staring.
"Thanks," Danny said, glancing back down at the paper. Miguel Cantos. He couldn't forget that name.
"Can I ask you something?" the—Miguel said.
"Sure."
"You don't have to answer this if you don't want to. But I was just curious."
"Go ahead."
"Okay." Miguel nodded, hesitating. His fingers fidgeted until they landed on the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. Tan fingers pulled and stretched the material, twisting it till the cloth hid his thumb from view. "Are you the only one? Or are there more people like you?"
"Oh, uh…" Danny leaned back in his chair.
Shit.
Well, there went any semblance of not lying to this kid.
Technically, minus Vlad, he was the only person like this. And even then, Vlad was ever so slightly different from Danny. Not to mention he was a total creep who had completely given in to his sick obsession with Maddie and seemed to think that killing Jack and kidnapping Danny on multiple occasions was the only way to win both Maddie and Danny's affections as his pseudo son or whatever twisted thoughts that plagued his head.
But even then, even after everything Vlad had done, he still couldn't rat him out as being a halfa. Maybe it was his obsession talking, maybe it was the constant need to have this one-up on Vlad, but at the end of it all, being a halfa was something too personal, too private. Vlad and Danny alike had taken their secret and guarded it within an inch of their lives again and again. Danny was the one unlucky enough to have been outed on national television, not Vlad. He fucked up, and he suffered the consequences tenfold.
Danny wouldn't wish what happened to him on anyone, not even Vlad.
"Yeah, I'm the only halfa."
"Oh, wow. Do you and your family know why?"
"They have their theories," Danny said, choosing his words carefully. Most of his parents research was confidential, and he and his parents hadn't really been able to sit down and talk about all the ghost-stuff yet.
There was also the matter of Danny not exactly being too keen on having his physiology on display to the public like he was a rare zoo animal. Nope, no thank you.
"They don't know for certain...why I survived the accident…it—it's speculation."
"Oh. That's cool then," Miguel said.
"Danny," a gentle voice came from behind him.
Danny swiveled around to see one of the nursing assistants approaching the pair, a warm smile on her face. "Your parents are here."
"Thanks," Danny said. He turned back to Miguel. "Well…"
Miguel offered him a grin.
It looked forced.
"This is it. You're off," he said.
"Yeah." Danny exhaled, trying to dissipate the knots of anxiety that decided to spring into existence. "Yeah. This is it."
"I'll come with you to get your bag," the nursing assistant said. She stepped to the side, raising her arm in the universal "after you" motion.
"Okay." Danny's voice sounded distant to his own ears.
"Hey." Miguel slowly lifted his hand, curling it into a loose fist. His face relaxed, and a real grin replaced the fake one from before. "It's been good getting to know you, Danny. I never expected to meet you, and I never thought you would ever give me the time of day if we did happen to cross paths. You're awesome, dude. Keep in touch."
Danny raised his own fist in kind, lightly tapping the tan skin with his pale knuckles. He felt the corners of his lips twitch up involuntarily. This time, the assurance along with a "you too" didn't seem so forced either.
He dropped his arms to his side, undid the breaks on his wheelchair, and pivoted away from Miguel. A final goodbye brushed against Danny's eardrums, but he didn't offer one in response. The uncertainty of whether he would ever talk to Miguel again had begun collecting in the corner of his mind. It wasn't that he didn't want to speak to the brunette again, it was just…
What if them staying in contact compromised Miguel's anonymity as a suicide patient? What if the other kids in his school found out? Everyone must have known where Danny ended up. This hospital was the only one around that offered an adolescent program. It wouldn't be too hard to connect the dots between Danny's public meltdown and subsequent hospitalization and Miguel's "tonsil surgery" absence.
It was just too risky. He couldn't risk outing Miguel like that. Not after how nice the boy had been to him since he arrived.
That was it, right? That's why he felt so conflicted about this?
"Alright, let's do this," the nursing assistant said, dragging Danny from his anxiety-filled brain.
He paused, tilting his head up to be met with the plain door to his dorm room. The nursing assistant gently pushed the door back to reveal a spotless white and blue accented bedroom. His bed was made, sheets pulled up under the pillows like his mother had taught him all those years ago. Decorating his bed was his duffle bag, which was packed and zipped up.
He put his hands on the metal rims of his wheels and readied himself to push forward toward the duffle bag. But, before he could move, the nursing assistant had already made her way across the room.
"Don't worry, Danny. I got it," she said, grabbing the duffle and slinging a black strap across her shoulder. She reached down for the walker. "You just follow me out, okay?"
He relaxed, allowing his eyes to wander around the room one last time. The white walls and ceiling didn't bother him anymore, not like they did when he first arrived to inpatient. Sure, the dorm room was mostly white, but it seemed much brighter than the white in the government compound. The government's walls were dim and maddening. Their white pressed down on Danny's lungs, leering at him with hysteria.
You'll never escape, the whiteness seemed to say. This is your life now. You deserve it, freak.
The white in the hospital was like gleaming pages on a fresh sheet of computer paper. It was blank, yet eager to be filled with new sketches and splashes of color. The room alluded a hopeful sense of safety that Danny desperately craved.
"Well, you ready?" the nursing assistant asked.
"Yeah," Danny said. He was ready. Maybe he wasn't completely fixed yet—and if he was honest, he wasn't sure he'd ever be—but he was ready to be out of here. He hadn't seen Sam and Tucker in weeks, and they hadn't truly hung out since before he was revealed. Sure, they visited him when he was in the main hospital and when he came home for that short stint before being checked into inpatient, but he wasn't exactly present for those encounters.
He made a mental note to treat Sam and Tucker to the Nasty Burger when he got back. For everything he put them through. Whenever his bank account would allow for it, at least.
Oh yeah, he was definitely ready to be out of here.
He turned to the nursing assistant and offered her a lopsided grin, ""Yeah. No offense, but these—but these beds suck."
The nursing assistant snorted. "They don't look too comfortable. I'm just glad I never had to sleep in them."
"Do yourself a—a favor and...don't get checked in then. You won't have to."
"I'll try my best." She undid the clasps on the walker and folded it flat. "Besides, I think I'm a little too old to hang with you kids."
"Aw, come on. You're what, twenty?"
She rolled her eyes. "A little older than that. Nice try though. Come on, let's not keep your parents waiting. We still have to sign you out and everything."
They exited the boys' psychiatric unit, the double doors hissing closed for the last time. She led him down an unfamiliar path to the lobby of the building, one Danny couldn't remember going on when he was admitted the month before. Thinking back, Danny didn't remember much from the first day he was admitted.
He must have been really out of it.
Seeing his parents for the first time outside of the double doors was awkward, neither party knowing exactly what to say to each other. Maddie kept turning from the front desk to give him small, watery smiles that left him entirely unsure how to reciprocate. After the fifth watery glance in his direction, he made it a point to stare down at the floor, the ceiling, the seams of his hoodie, anywhere but the direction of his parents.
Jack was a different story. He was quiet, focused on getting all the paperwork filled out accurately. This attention to detail was somewhat unnerving for Danny, who was used to him being the distracted parent. But, thinking back over the past few weeks, Jack's change had been the most apparent out of his parents and sister. The goofy, immature man was much more stoic than before. It was as if Jack had left town and his lawyer twin brother replaced him.
Danny waited silently off to the side until the final papers were signed, signaling the beginning of his freedom. Well, partial freedom. He would be back here tomorrow for outpatient. But from this day forward he could sleep in his own bed, eat his mother's baked goods, and sit on the roof and look at the constellations with Jazz whenever he wanted.
He was finally free.
The sunlight hitting his face almost didn't seem real. It wasn't like the sticky heat he was met with when he was dumped like a UPS package on the Fenton Works doorstep by the Guys in White after his...residency with the government. Which was a suppressed memory that could stay suppressed, Fenturd.
He pressed a hand to his forehead. He hadn't thought about that memory yet, that moment when the blinding sunlight and summer heat met his body for the first time since he had been taken away.
All he remembered from that day was the sound of the door opening and his eyes immediately snapping shut at the bright light that met his dilated pupils. A rough hand grabbed his arm—the broken one that couldn't heal thanks to the ecto-suppressants—and yanked him out of the car. His torso hit the sidewalk and he screamed as the fresh wounds on his chest burned in pain. He writhed, desperate to get off his stomach, only for his back to cry out in misery.
And then he woke up in the hospital. Surrounded by fresh linens and medical professionals working to heal him.
The concerned tone of Jack cut into Danny's thoughts. "Danno? You okay?"
Danny's eyes snapped back into focus. Shit, he was falling behind his parents. "Yeah, sorry."
"You need help?" his mother asked.
"No, I'm good. Promise." Danny gave his mother what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It wasn't, if his mother's persistent worried look was anything to go by. He rolled his eyes and put more force than necessary into the next push on his wheelchair, speeding past his parents.
Danny reached the start of the parking lot and glanced around, searching for the Fenton Assault Vehicle. It was never hard to spot, with it standing several feet higher than a normal car and plastered with the neon green Fenton Works logo. But much to Danny's surprise, he couldn't spot it anywhere.
"Where'd you park?"
"Right up front," Maddie said.
"Huh? Oh…" Danny's eyes latched onto Jazz's small red car parked in the first handicapped parking spot. He swallowed thickly, his stomach twisting painfully. "Oh."
"No ghost assault vehicle today," Jack said from behind Danny. He felt a heavy hand hit his shoulder. "Your mother didn't think the hospital would like it too much if we showed up with a van full of weapons. So we borrowed Jazz's car for the day."
"Oh. When did you…?" Danny nodded towards the handicapped sign in front of the spot.
"Um, a few weeks ago," Maddie said, her voice tight.
"We know it's not ideal, but it's practical. And hey, someday you might not need it if you work hard enough in PT, right?" Jack asked.
"Right."
"Then for now, this is just the way it is, son." Jack's hand squeezed Danny's shoulder before letting go. "Now, enough chit-chat. Let's go home."
"Yeah...home."
HUGE shoutout to imekitty for not only beta-ing this chapter (which was a mess that required multiple days of her working her editing magic) but also for just helping me along the way with this chapter and giving me lots of encouragement and motivation. She's a gem and an amazing writer so if you want some great angsty fics I highly suggest you go read her stuff.
Also big ups to tumblr user dannyphandump for giving one last read through on this chapter and helping with the last-minute detail edits/things to think about for future chapters. They were super helpful!
Thanks for reading, and for everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I can't wait to hear your thoughts and predictions about the next chapter now that he's home!