1/13/25: Hello there!

The song for this chapter is called "Distraction" by Sleep Token. They are a wonderful band! A beautiful blend of metal, alternative and ballad. Some songs make you want to headbang, others invoke such emotion that I can't describe it as they play acoustic guitar and piano. This is one such song that immediately reminded me of my past in the immediate aftermath of my abuse and really hit me hard. The only difference is you can change the "she" in the second verse to 'he' for me as my current husband was my rock through it all.

Also, I want to make one thing clear: I am NOT trying to piss off people with scars. I do NOT personally think they are ugly–I have many myself. I am simply trying to get into the mindset of Danny here. I actually love my scars because each one comes with a story, even if some of those stories aren't so pleasant.

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom.

–

Chapter 45: Fractured

–

Nearly a week passed and Danny and Sam had yet to see each other again. Shade was helping Sam wall off the devastated and grieving part of herself so she could focus on her kids and getting herself back to health.

But there were still times it became too much and even Shade couldn't help her, especially when they traded the children as if they were divorced parents in a custody battle, only she never saw their father because it was Maddie handing over the twins.

Danny, on the other hand, was just trying to gain some distance from those memories, to try and regain some semblance of himself that wasn't tied to trauma, but it was difficult when he still couldn't figure out if some of them were real or not. It also didn't help that he was having nightmares.

And Sam…he knew he was hurting her badly. He also knew that she was not the one who tortured him, but he couldn't help the visceral response from his body every time he even thought of leaving his room, knowing he could possibly see her. He felt like there was a gaping Sam-shaped hole in his life that he couldn't fill because the very thought caused him to panic. It was killing him inside.

It was early morning and the ghost was having another nightmare. He could feel her nails on his skin, hear her mocking laughter as she cut him, see her amethyst orbs as she gave him that evil smirk. She toyed with him, fingers grazing him gently as they swept sensually across his chest before they drove the knife in between his ribs. She whispered seductive words in his ears while she twisted the knife, her derisive giggle tickling his skin as her breath caressed him like a lover. As she pulled back, her smirk distorted the normally beautiful shape of her pink lips while her glowing eyes bored into him.

He awoke with a start. While his terrified gaze was locked on the ceiling, the image of her amethyst eyes and smirk were seared into his mind and into his vision so that he could not see the ceiling beyond. He scrambled out of bed, losing his balance and hitting the floor with a small yelp. The ghost pulled himself up and pushed his back against the wall, body and limbs shaking, unneeded breaths rattling in his chest.

Despite the fact that this was a nightly occurrence, it wasn't getting any easier. He constantly found himself on the floor after a nightmare, never having remembered just how he got there. The only thing he could truly remember clearly was her face–always her face.

Oh, and I know…

He sat there trembling, the phantom pain from the knife jarring in his side, the panic slowly taking over. It didn't occur to him that feeling like he couldn't breathe didn't make any sense.

I can tell I'm falling further…again…

Still, he panted shaking, raspy breaths in order to stem the imagined pain and interrupt the cycle of terror stampeding through his system. He could feel his core trying to activate, trying to assess the threat and respond accordingly. But how could it respond to the demons within?

But I won't turn away,

It's far too late for me…

Tears streamed down his cool cheeks as deep, almost feral sobs wracked his body. He was broken–fractured into thousands of pieces–a shell of the man he once was. He didn't know how he was supposed to put himself back together–or even if he could.

'Cause I am broken into fractions…

The ghost had no idea how long he was on the floor; time had no meaning for him in this state. He spent the time trying to erase the memory of the nightmare from his mind–trying to erase the vision of her seared into his brain.

Once he'd calmed enough he no longer needed to 'breathe' in order to stem the tide of terror, he stood on shaky legs and made his way to the bathroom, using his arms and the wall for support. He wasn't weak anymore, but the dreams and the panic took a lot out of him.

Once there, he used his arms and leaned heavily on the vanity, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked a mess–white locks sticking up at odd angles, dark circles clinging under his eyes, skin shining from a thin sheen of sweat. His eyes looked hollow, sunken, and empty, as if his very soul had dimmed.

Aside from that was the scar over his right eye, a thin line that started above his eyebrow and tracked through it–leaving a line of no hair–down his eyelid and ending with a very short line just below his eye. The eye itself looked fine–still green and glowing, with what looked to be a normal pupil.

But he couldn't see with it.

The internal damage–the destroyed retina–hadn't healed. Bruce said it was because of the weapon Mira had used; the ghost knife. It was also why the cut had scarred–it was a material that his core couldn't fully mend.

Speaking of scars, his gaze roamed over his torso. He had slept in sweatpants and no shirt, particularly because he tended to wake up sweating from the nightmares and he'd gotten tired of stripping off soaked shirts. Instead, he simply laid towels down before going to bed.

He looked down at his chest in the mirror and felt his throat constrict at the perfectly scarred 'Mira' there. It was certainly the most glaring scar on the front–even more so than his death scar–though there were many, many smaller ones from all the knives Declan had happily skewered him with.

As he turned he winced at his back. It had healed as one giant scar, a criss-cross of ugly skin that was red and blotchy, puffed in some areas, and sunken in others. He could faintly see the claw marks at the upper part of his back from where the hooks had caught.

He looked sadly at the damage his body had endured. The scars not only made him self-conscious, but he also felt like a monster. His body was hideous and even he could barely stand the sight of himself.

Danny sighed before getting in the shower to wash away the sweat and self-loathing. While it did wonders for the sweat, it did nothing to help his self-image. Once done he got dressed in dark blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt with sleeves just long enough to cover the scars on his upper arms. Declan had been too short to reach his forearms, so they'd been spared, other than where the manacles had cut into his wrists. For those, he donned black cotton sweatbands.

He glared at the brazen scars on his neck in the mirror. He didn't care much for heat, so he knew wearing a scarf to hide them would be stifling. With a sigh he shook his head and went about his morning ablutions, turning the faucet on with a little more force than required.

When he emerged from the bedroom he did feel a little bit better. He peeked at the closed door. He could really use some coffee…surely no one was awake at this early hour?

–

Sam had woken early with the twins. Aurora had woken first, as was usual, but her cries for food had woken her brother as well. The goth got them fed and changed and happily settled back down for a little more sleep.

She watched them as they slept with a small smile. Even with switching off with Danny, she'd been able to spend more time with them the past week than she had in what felt like forever. Their lives felt like a never ending cycle of just truckloads of crap being thrown at them and she was exhausted. Of course, that could also be the pregnancy.

Speaking of pregnancy, Dr. Tanning was due to see her shortly for another ultrasound. She'd been eating like she should (even extra calories because Tucker was practically force feeding her) and drinking water and getting rest when she could. Because of that, Bruce had seen promising signs in the last week that the baby was recovering as well. It was still early, but he was optimistic that they'd see the heartbeat this morning.

She'd made an appointment with Dr. Dorr, but the OBGYN didn't really see pregnant women until about the eight week mark, so Bruce was keeping an eye on her.

Now that Jazz and Tucker were back, she was staying in what had been Ki-oh and Do-hee's room. It had been extremely difficult at first, and oftentimes still was as little touches here and there reminded the goth of the young woman, but she was slowly coming to terms with it. Jazz and Maddie switched off on taking care of Se-ri at night, while everyone else pitched in during the day.

As for Do-hee, when going through her things they discovered a living will that expressed her wishes to be cremated. Without any family to contact, they'd done just that. They were still waiting on her ashes to come back, but when they did, they hoped to have a memorial/celebration in her honor when Ki-oh returned.

Sam frowned. If Ki-oh returned.

Finally, she went into the bathroom, DJ right on her heels with his tail wagging, and took a quick steaming shower, dressing in black leggings and a black tank top with skulls on it once done. She finished at the perfect time, hearing a knock on the bedroom door as she exited the bathroom.

"Come in," she said, already knowing it was Bruce. He entered with a smile, pulling the ultrasound machine with him.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

She nodded eagerly. "I am. Though, I am nervous, too. I hope it's okay."

The doctor gave her a sympathetic look as he wheeled the cart to the side of the bed. "It's still pretty early, but it does seem to be improving," he responded.

Sam went to the bed and laid down, automatically pulling her shirt up for access. DJ hopped up as well, settling next to her, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. Bruce sat on the edge of the bed and started the machine, applying the cool gel and then placing it on her abdomen without preamble.

He moved it around a bit, the screen a blur of unrecognizable stuff before the familiar round blackness showed up. In the middle was a tiny fetus, still too small for Bruce's liking, but steadily growing now. He moved around quite a bit, making sure there was, in fact, just one this time.

After a moment, he paused in his motion and smiled before pointing to the screen. "There's the heartbeat. Can just barely see it, but it's there."

Sam smiled warmly, a tear going down her cheek as she stared at the tiny baby, watching the little speck in the middle pulsing with life. "And you're sure it's just one?"

He nodded. "Fairly. It's still possible to miss a twin at this stage, but I don't see another."

The goth nodded. "I am not sure I could handle another set of twins," she admitted.

Bruce chuckled lightly. "Just keep taking care of yourself and everything should turn out for the best."

"I'll do my best," she said, suddenly feeling a pang of sadness as she recognized the line as one Danny had often used in their younger years, back when they were optimistic teens just trying to get good grades and not, you know, die by ghost attack.

Bruce cleaned her up and left, leaving a lonely Sam sitting on the bed wondering what in the world she should be doing right now. She very suddenly had a craving for some coffee. She couldn't have regular coffee, but decaf was okay, and right now she just wanted the taste of coffee.

Sam checked on the twins again and, satisfied they were soundly asleep, grabbed the baby monitor and then made her way to the kitchen, telling DJ to stay for now. She put on a pot of decaf coffee and impatiently waited for it, fingers drumming on the counter.

Finally it dinged and she grabbed a mug from the cabinet, pouring herself some rich brown goodness before adding a little cream and stirring. She blew on it a few times before attempting to take a sip. Unfortunately, she turned around at the same time and noticed, with shock, that Danny was standing there, just as surprised to see her.

She jolted before yelping, having accidentally swallowed some of the piping hot liquid, and then coughed several times, turning back around to set the mug down and grab a paper towel.

"Are you okay?"

She froze. Sam couldn't believe he'd spoken to her, attempting, at the very least, to make sure she was okay. But also, that voice…She hadn't realized how much she'd missed that deep, rich tone. It tore at her heart.

She swallowed hard, wiping her mouth before turning back around to face him. "Yeah, just swallowed some hot coffee," she responded, noting he was looking everywhere but at her. She noticed the scar around his right eye and felt a pang of sadness, knowing from her conversations with Bruce and Vlad that he was now blind in that eye.

He was clearly uncomfortable, but he wasn't running for the hills, so she took that as a win. After several awkward moments she cleared her throat. "I'll just uh…" she said before pointing to her mug. She picked it back up and went to leave, but his voice stopped her.

"You made coffee?" he asked.

"Uhh, yeah," she replied, tentatively. "It's decaf though. I can make a pot of regular if you want it."

"No, I-I can do it," he said quickly, eyes still averted.

She moved out of the way, allowing him access. She felt like it was another success when he moved past her (albeit cautiously) and to the coffee pot. The goth went to leave when again, he stopped her.

"How uh…how are you?" he asked softly, not turning around while he poured the extra decaf into another mug so he could change the coffee. Well…he tried to pour it into a mug, but missed, his new lack of depth perception throwing him off. "Damnit," he cursed quietly.

Sam set her mug down and reached for the paper towels to help clean it up, but the movement was quick and too close. He spooked, especially as she'd moved on his right side and he could only hear her moving, not see it.

Danny stepped back quickly, obviously shaken, his hands trembling as they grabbed the edge of the counter that was now behind him.

The half ghost watched it happen with wide eyes, suddenly feeling terribly guilty. "Oh, Danny, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to…" Mean to what, she wasn't sure, but she hadn't meant to startle him.

Danny was panting, trying to get his core's pulsing to slow. He knew she hadn't meant to scare him, but he couldn't help his reaction. The ghost nodded to her. "I-it's okay."

"I just wanted to help clean it up, I hadn't meant to scare you," she reiterated before finishing what she had started and grabbed the paper towels. She carefully wiped up the mess. "What were you doing with the decaf anyway?" she asked.

He started to get his bearings and swallowed, licking his lips. "I-I was going to save it in case you wanted more."

She paused in her cleanup before glancing back at him with a warm smile. "That was very thoughtful of you," she responded before finishing and throwing the paper towels away.

She turned back to him and stalled when his eyes met hers. It was brief, but it sent a shock through her system all the way to her soul, an electrified pulse that felt so familiar, before he looked away again. Sam quickly moved back away from the coffee pot and he gingerly went back to it.

She thought of offering to do it for him, but he'd probably be offended. He wasn't an invalid, he was just trying to navigate his way through a new disability and she knew she would only hinder him relearning how to do things if she did them for him.

Danny carefully picked the pot back up and tried again, this time getting the rest of the decaf in the mug while only splashing a little. Then he set about getting it setup to brew a regular pot.

'Say something.'

'Shut up,' Sam told her more annoying half. 'I'm just grateful he's in the same room as me. I'm not going to push it.'

She stood there sipping her coffee and wondering if she should just leave when he spoke again, the melodic tone of his voice sending familiar shivers through her.

"How is the baby?" he asked in a way that sounded almost afraid. Perhaps he knew she hadn't been taking care of herself?

She swallowed her sip, pulling the mug down and momentarily relishing the warmth it offered to her hands. "Good. A little small, but good. I actually got to see the heartbeat this morning."

His hands paused in their work before he turned around. Once again, she felt that electricity when his eyes met hers. "Really?" he asked, a hint of excitement coloring his voice.

She smiled at him, eyes sparkling. "Yeah. I'm only six weeks along so it was the first time seeing it, but it was pretty cool," she answered. "And we're pretty sure there's only one this time," she added, holding up a finger.

She thought she saw a ghost of a smile on his lips before he turned back around and finished getting the coffee maker ready to brew. After a few more minutes of silence she finally did turn around to leave.

"I'll send Maddie with the twins once they're up," she said, not wanting to push him further.

"I'll-" he started quickly, before clearing his throat and slowing himself down. "I'll come get them."

She watched him a moment, but he'd gone back to refusing to look her in the eye. "Okay. I'll let you know when they're up."

The goth turned and left the kitchen then. Their interaction was nowhere near what she wanted, but it was a start and she'd take it. She walked off to her room with a bounce in her step.

–

It wasn't long after Sam left that Danny teleported to his room with his coffee, nearly spilling it as braced himself on the wall, panting hard to try and dispel the panic that was setting in. He couldn't believe he'd managed to hold himself together at all, let alone as well as he did.

He was proud of the effort he'd made, but also shaken as it was far harder than he'd expected it to be. Though he could see the difference in this Sam–the way she moved, her mannerisms, the tone of her voice and the warm smiles–when compared to the one in his mind, they still looked physically the same. The moment he realized she was there it triggered his fight or flight response, and he very nearly teleported away from pure fear.

He dropped his forehead against the wall, closing his eyes and sighing. Would they ever get back to where they were before? Could they?

He supposed that was an answer only time would tell, but for now, he needed to work on himself. Only, he couldn't seem to stop the runaway loop of anxiety his body was sending him on.

The ghost set the coffee down on the dresser before teleporting outside to the backyard. The snow and cold air, though he didn't feel it much, was still a shock to his system when compared to the warm air inside the house and he bent over, hands on his knees. It helped the cycle of panic within him, calming his core's pulsing and his wheezing breaths.

After a minute he stood up straight, face to the sky, eyes closed. He allowed the frosty air to chill him, using the sensation to ground himself. After another minute, he opened his eyes and looked towards the house, surprised when he could see Sam in her room.

One of the twins must have woken up, as she had one of them on her hip as she lightly danced around, her mood better than it had been in weeks just from their short interaction. He could see her lips moving, could tell she was singing to their child as Jackson was giggling, completely immersed in the moment.

The scene was homey and full of family, something he desperately wanted back, but wasn't sure how to get it.

As he watched her bounce around the room, he felt the tiniest tug of a smile on his lips at the way her face was lit up. Her warm smile was something he missed seeing on her face.

Oh, and I swear she is not like any other, no.

She'd been so understanding the last week, staying out of his way at his request and only relaying messages through proxies. This morning had been a fluke really, as it had been the first time he'd even ventured out of the room.

Something much more than I could ask for…

He really hoped she continued to understand as he took baby steps towards being able to be around her.

Still, he wondered if things could ever be the same. Would the nightmares stop? Would his fear of her go away? Would his body's visceral reaction dampen with time, or was he cursed to now watch from a distance, walking in parallel to her, but never again actually beside her?

'Cause I am broken into fractions,

Oh, and I am driven to distraction, no.

He held his hands out and looked down, swallowing hard when he could only see his left hand unless he turned his head. Could Sam even love him now? He was not that strong, brave man she loved; he was now a scarred shell, devoid of the qualities that had once made him whole.

With each and every interaction,

I am driven to distraction.

It's too late for me…

He was even more broken than he'd been when she found him in China; far more fractured, far more gone. At least then he had her to cling to like a lifeline, but now…he didn't have anyone.

It's too late for me…

Sure, he was surrounded by people who loved him, but he barely tolerated being in the same room with anyone, let alone any form of touch. And even if he could, they didn't understand–none of them did. Actually…Tucker kind of did, but Danny struggled with seeing or talking to him because of the immense guilt he felt.

He dropped his hands to his side and sighed, gaze going back to a dancing Sam, and he wondered: 'Is it too late for me?'

–

1/14/25: Wrote this one pretty quick. Started it yesterday, finished early today, but all in all maybe 2 total hours. Starting to understand Danny's mindset some. This is one of the few chapters where I feel like I got my point across with appropriate detail and emotional description.