Work Text:
Danny laid on the bed in the guest room of Babs’s apartment. His chest ached, but it didn’t hurt as much as it used to. He glanced beside him to where Jazz had fallen asleep on the armchair next to the bed, exhausted from keeping vigil despite the numerous times Danny told her to go to bed.
Not that she didn’t have reason to watch Danny, if he didn’t have bandages wrapped around his chest he was sure he’d probably be absentmindedly picking at the stitches.
He glanced to the other side of the room at the closed curtains covering the window. Jazz had shut them, saying that he should try to sleep. He had agreed not wanting to tell her he was afraid of sleeping.
Every time he closed his eyes he was in the lab, their parents hovering over him. He sighed. He wished he could see through the window, anything to distract him. Though if he remembered correctly, the only view through this window was the brick wall of the adjacent building.
What he wanted was to see the stars. It had been so long since he had gone stargazing. He wanted to go home, back to Amity and his friends. Back to their house.
He closed his eyes before snapping them open again. He wanted his parents to love him, to really love him, all parts of him. He wanted them to accept that Phantom was a part of him and that he was still their son.
He rubbed at his chest.
Part of him wanted to wake Jazz up so that he’d have someone to talk to. But she was exhausted, and she’d been putting off her own rest to care for him. He supposed he could go out into the living room, but Jazz would yell at him for not resting, for risking pulling out a stitch. He didn't want to worry his sister.
He sighed, stretching out on the bed. He needed to do something, anything. He just needed a distraction.
He looked at the window again. He could open it. Jazz wouldn’t blame him for just getting out of bed to open the curtain.
He pushed himself to a seated position, wincing as the movement pulled at his injuries. He wished his healing would kick in already. Though admittedly it was the only reason he wasn’t worse off. If he was in Amity he’d be able to heal quicker because of all the ectoplasm. But that wasn’t an option right now.
He shuffled to the edge of the bed and pushed himself to his feet. He didn’t bother hiding his wince at every step he took. Jazz wasn’t awake to see it and worried.
He pushed the curtain aside, sighing and trying not to feel too disappointed at the lack of view. It was something to distract himself with at least. Maybe he could count all the bricks he could see from his bed?
He glanced at Jazz, but she was still deeply asleep. He hoped she wasn’t having nightmares, but by the tight expression on her face he didn't think her dreams were pleasant. He debated whether or not to wake her. Was some sleep better than none even if it was restless with bad dreams? or should he wake her so she didn't have to suffer through whatever memories her mind conjured up?
He ran his gaze over her face, lingering over the yellowing bruises, knowing they extended to the rest of her body.
That was his fault. If he hadn't been stupid enough to get caught she wouldn’t have gotten hurt. She had told him it wasn’t his fault, that it was their parents who had hurt them. But wasn’t it still his fault? He was the one with powers, what good were they if he couldn’t protect his sister who had always taken care of him?
He let himself sink back onto the bed.
They needed to start thinking about what they would do next. Babara was very kind in letting them stay temporarily, but they should start thinking of where they would go next. The money Sam had given them could probably cover a few months rent, especially in Gotham, and he and Jazz could get jobs. He could maybe do homeschooling, and he’d make sure Jazz would also sign up for at least a few college classes. He wouldn’t let her give up more of her life than she already had.
Maybe he should try to get to sleep again.
As he closed his eyes a loud thunk came from the other room. His eyes shot open, and Jazz shot up straight in her chair.