a better son

[iron-fister.livejournal.com]

WHO: iron_fister and 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.]

Comments

[iron-fister.livejournal.com]

[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!

[honorindeath.livejournal.com]

[ 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 ]

SOLO LOG TIME

[iron-fister.livejournal.com]

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.