capeandcowllogs | a better son

Entry tags:

a better son

WHO:

honorindeath
WHERE: On top of Fister House
WHEN: March 12th, 2010; Right after Danny is done reuniting with Rikki post-death
WARNINGS: Extreme sadness, possible breaking of the viewer's heart, etc.
SUMMARY: Danny's life sucks. Seriously. He has anti-family repellent or something.
FORMAT: Quicklog, eventually turning into a Danny solo!Log

[The roof had always been a peaceful spot for Danny. It gave him a meditative view over the City. Reminded him of back home. Of better times. And, dear God, did he need a reminder that things got better. After all, Rikki's death had hurt him more than he ever thought. The fear of not being able to protect her constantly haunting him, even through their reunion. He bit his lip, feet dangling off the side of the building, and gazed out over the City. Watched the lights flicker on and off, a twinkling melody in the darkness.

He was starting to hate this place.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ he'd ignored the comm device for the most part since coming to the City---didn't have a need for that hunk of junk when for the most part, all that filtered through was bullshit and the deranged rants of the sick. He'd broken his after that boy had posted, saying that Rikki was dead, so he hadn't known she was back until Wu and Danny disappeared from the apartment with a shriek of "SHE'S HOME!".

Instead of going straight to Rikki---she'd be dogpiled by people she'd like to see more than him, he'd been sure---he went after Danny.

He gave him his space, only catching up to the familiar warm beacon that was Danny-flavored-Shou-Lao-chi when it held still in a flickering candle over the skyline.

Orson approached silently out of habit. Cleared his throat. ]

[Danny lowers his head and laughs halfheartedly as he feels Orson approach. A feeble attempt to make light of his heavy feelings. Or at least to hide them from Orson.]

I was wondering when you'd show up.

[He doesn't even look behind him as he speaks. Just shifts his position. Subtle things, subconscious things, giving away clues about his true state of being. Slightly slumped shoulders, hands folded in his lap, head raised, tilted to gaze up at the sky.]

... Rikki's doing well, it seems. Better than I was, at least.

[ he shrugs, taking a seat next to him. No use in hovering behind him awkwardly. Danny looks wilted and he doesn't know what to say. All the words he picks at in his head---'are you okay', 'sorry', 'you should be happy'---either seem inappropriate or flat. He pushes his hand through his shorn hair and sighs ]

You should be used to this by now, boy.

It's different when it's a kid.

[When it's his kid. Or feels like his, at least. He looks down at the streets, examining the trash on them.]

Kid's shouldn't have to live through... [Through what? Stabbings? He wants to say, but... the words just keep getting stuck in his throat.] ... They shouldn't have to deal with this stuff.

She's less kid than you're giving her credit for. You were younger than her when you went into the dragon's lair.

[ he pauses. He knows that pain only a little bit too well. He's lost all the children he's ever had. Danny's the only one bullheaded enough to come back. Orson pulls a pack of cigarettes from his lapel pocket, tapping it a couple of times before digging a cancer stick out. He's not even going to ask if it's okay for him to smoke; he's calm on the exterior, but his chi tells a different story, as does Danny's ]

It's part and parcel of being a parent, whether you're a good one or not.

I should have been there for her.

[Danny's eye flicker towards the cigarettes, and for a moment, he considers actually asking for one. But no. He's not that far gone. He goes back to watching the City.]

I should have protected her.

And I should have been there for Wend a hundred thousand times over. And I should have been there for you in the mountains when all you had was the wolves.

[ oh yeah, he knew about that. Always knew about that. Orson pulls a hard drag from the cigarette, the cherry lighting up his face as craggy and just old ]

But the only time I managed to be there for you, it was when you needed me most. First time I showed up on time for anything in a hundred years.

[Danny winces ever so slightly at the mention of the wolves. Not really wanting that mental image in his head. He manages to recover enough that he's able to look at Orson, offering a small almost-smile.]

And you showed up here.

[It's hard to express how much he appreciate Orson's presence in words, so he tries to show it in a lingering gaze, a mysterious expression, and his eyes. One can only hope Orson could understand a message so cryptic.]

[ he shakes his head, that tiny outpouring, that offering, a little too much for him to accept. He doesn't want that gratefulness on his shoulders, doesn't want to feel like he'll be missed ]

Listen to me, Daniel. Me being here is a fluke. I'm not supposed to get a second lease on life---it's fucking unfair is what it is. I shouldn't be alive---hell, as old as I am, I'm a little tired of it. But...

[ he pauses, mentally thumbing through his thoughts. He doesn't know how to say this ]

The time I got, it's been good. I felt lucky enough to see you grown up and looking like your father. Luckier still that you want me in this life of yours in spite of everything I did...or didn't do...to Wendell. There's a reason he never told you about his old man. I'm pretty sure that he hated me til his dying breath.

[ his lips pull into a tight line with that thought. It balances heavily on his chest ]

[The words sting, if only a bit. Danny turns away from them, facing the City once more.]

I'm not my dad, Orson.

[Okay, fine. Looking back at Orson.]

And you've done more for me than he did. So... [He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. Thinks about his next words carefully. So much emotion is floating around him, swirling around, confusing him. Finally, he settles on a word, chewing on his bottom lip as he speaks.]

... Thanks.

[ he snubs out the cigarette, exhaling one last cold, cloudy breath into the City sky ]

Took me most of my life to do right by anyone.

[ his voice cracks ]

When I realized what it meant to be a weapon, I struggled with it. Ran. Fought to save my hide, but only that. I thought that coming back to life here meant that my sacrifice didn't mean shit.

But hell, I would've died without seeing what that sacrifice did. And it's---it's made me proud that I made that decision. I died exactly how I wanted to, boy. Don't ever think that I regret it.

[Danny watches Orson for a minute, as if to make sure he's not joking. But after a minute, it becomes clear that he isn't. That this is real, and an overwhelming sense of warmth flows through him. He looks down, laughing in relief. After he's finished, he looks back at Orson, a warm, Danny-smile on his face.]

It never even crossed my mind.

[ he's starting to fade---feels it, too. It's like a slow sense of vertigo, of falling. Holding up a hand, he can see some specks of starlight through it. Damn.

That just figures. ]

Danny?

[Danny smile quickly fades, and he breathes out softly:]

[He reaches out to grab Orson's hand, watching with horror as it passes through. Only a lingering trace of Orson's heat remaining.]

No!

[He waves his hand through it again, hoping to grasp onto flesh. Onto warmth. Onto something. This couldn't be happening to him. He didn't want this to happen. Not now. Anytime but now. Please.]

Orson!

[ he's only got seconds---knows that, feels that, hates that---because Danny slips through him like air and he's rapidly numbing. Orson fights it, begs not now with the universe at large, but--- ]

Danny. Danny! Tell---tell Wu I'm sorry, but it was borrowed time to begin with. Tell Ri---

[ his mouth moves, but no words come out. Just like that, he's gone and all that's left is lingering cigarette smoke ]

The world plummets then. The cars and constant City noises that always sound going on mute. Danny's hand shakes as the smoke curls around his wrist, eyes wide in shock and horror.

No. No. This can't be...

Hand still outreached, he shakily stands up, following the smoke with his eyes.

This can't be happening. Not again...

Danny swallows, his heartbeat sounding loudly in his head. A thunderous wake-up call telling him that Orson is gon--

No.

He finds himself moving forward, stepping into the cigarette smoke. He continues to follow it upwards, until finally he notices something. The porter building. On the horizon. The place that took Orson away.

The place that is taking it away.

A desperate sense of hope flows throughout Danny as he fixes his eyes on the horizon. On that building. If he can get there... If he can get there, he can stop Orson from disappearing. From leaving him again. From leaving him alone. He has to catch it. There's still hope. There has to be hope.

It takes him a few minutes to become aware that he is already moving, his pace matching the rate of his rapid heartbeat. He leaps over buildings clumsily, but efficiently, making quick time without even thinking about it. Without even looking. All he's focused on is the Porter building. On that false hope that he can save Orson.

Part of him tries to tell him that he's being selfish. That Orson doesn't want this.

He ignores it and keeps running. He keeps running and running and running until finally, the noise of the world starts to surround him once again. The slow honking of cars, the sound of crying babies, the sound of a million different people around him. Enjoying life.

It's unbearable.

Danny stumbles mid-run, collapsing on his hands and knees. The sound is too much for him. This... sense of life overwhelms him.

Life.

A bitter tide runs through his blood, burning it with a cold edge. Anger cuts through him like a blade. Was this a joke? His hands clench. Was fate merely playing with him? His arms start to tremble. After everything he had done, didn't he deserve something? Didn't he deserve his own goddamn family.

Still on all fours, Danny's body trembles with rage.

Enough. He had had enough. Enough of this toying around. Enough of this manipulation. Enough of--

Dear god, Orson was dead. The Porter had taken him from this realm and brought him back home where he was dead.

The thought was too much for Danny. Raising his fist, he pounded the ground, screaming. Screaming at the injustice of it all. Screaming, and punching, and screaming and punching until his voice was sore and his fist was a bloody mess, leaving an imprint on the ground.

And it was only then, after the shock had gone away, after the denial had worn thin, after the anger had left him, that he was consumed by the sadness.

So there he was, on top of a stranger's roof, on his hands and knees, crying. And it was there he would stay, until the tears ran dry and his arms grew tired and all the strength from his body was drained.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

a better son

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

SOLO LOG TIME