Damian's Pet Pit Demon, ch1.p4
masterpost what tense is this fic in? no damn clue. no editing please, weather is KOing me hard
And Danny tried. For Damian he worked to find a balance between ghost and human, floating but being present. He gathered together the pieces of himself and stuffed them into a skin. And it was ugly and messy but it was good enough.
It had to be.
“Lord Damian, it is time for your next lesson.”
The teacher training Damian paused, fist inches from Damian’s face. His gaze scanned over the priest robes before he slowly pulled his fist back. His other hand released Damian’s shirt, letting the boy fall to the ground with a puff of sand and dust.
“You are dismissed.”
The teacher’s sneer was barely contained as he bowed and then stalked away.
“Lord Damian, with me.”
“Yes, Brother,” Damian answered as he picked himself off the ground. His blood was a bright smear on the training ground floor. The small child followed silently behind through the halls and into an empty room.
As soon as the door closed, the Danny fell to his knees at Damian’s feet. Gently he brushed the blood from Damian’s cheek. “That one I am killing.”
“He is training me.”
“He is taking joy in hurting you,” Danny hissed. His rage pulled at the human visage that he wore. He could feel his teeth sharpening, his mouth widening, his eyes burning. Eyes. So many eyes. They watched Damian. Watched him be beaten and belittled and hurt. They watched him bleed. “That is not training. He is not a teacher. He is a sadist, and he will not lay his hands on you again!”
Damian’s shoulders curled as he hunched slightly in on himself.
Danny tried to shove the otherness back under his skin so quickly that it hurt. “You have done nothing wrong, little brave one. And I know there are things here that harm you and that I cannot stop, by your own request. But if you must learn to fight than you will learn, not be beaten needlessly. You do not deserve that.”
“…what if I do?” Damian asked in a whisper.
“You do not,” Danny insisted. “I know this because no child deserves to be beaten. And more than that, you are my child, my friend. And I know that you very much do not deserve it. He will not hurt you any longer.”
Damian shifted on his feet and glanced back at Danny. Danny took the moment to scoop up Damian and take him over to the desk. He set Damian down carefully.
“You cannot get caught by grandfather,” Damian said firmly.
“I will not,” Danny promised. He cupped a hand and let it fill with ectoplasm. With a gentle touch, he used the inner robe to dab the ectoplasm on one of Damian’s wounds.
Damian tried to get a good look while at the same time holding still. “That looks like Lazarus water.”
“Lazarus water?”
“What is in the pool where we met.”
Danny hummed. “It is and it isn’t. What is in that pit diverged long ago. If one goes back to the source from Lazarus water, one of the things that they would come to is this.”
“…and it heals?”
“Not for everyone. But you are special.”
“People say that,” Damian said, sounding sad. “I never like what being special means.”
“I’m sorry. It can be hard, I know,” Danny said. “What I mean with this, about being special, is that you have been around the Lazarus water long enough, that this can work on you. It’s about exposure.”
“Oh.” Damian gave a little nod like he understood.
It made Danny smile. “Where were we in our lesson?”
“You were telling me about the printing press.”
Danny blinked. “Really? How did we get on that topic?”
“I am unsure.”
“What are you supposed to be doing?”
“My English letters,” Damian said.
That actually made sense. “Oh, I was probably talking about cases. Did I tell you about upper case and lower case?”
“Yes.”
“Well then consider that topic done for now! And you wounds are dealt with,” Danny said. He let the ectoplasm absorb back into him. “Do you need any help with your letters?”
“No,” Damian said with a little jut of his chin. “Though… maybe you would look over them after.”
“I would be happy to,” Danny said. He went to pull out the stack of papers that was Damian’s work and made sure the pencil was sharp. Damian was, of course, the only child in League, so he was alone for his lessons. Danny tried to be Damian’s teacher for the academic lessons as often as possible. The other lessons he couldn’t manage yet.
“You are not very good at this,” Damian said as he practiced his letters.
“Not very good at what?” Danny asked from the desk that he lounged at.
“Being human.”
“Oh.” Danny blinked. And breathed. He had forgotten to breathe again. “I was, once.”
Damian glanced up from his work, the lines of P’s and Q's forgotten. “What happened?”
“What happened? They came and they took everything from me,” Danny hissed with too many mouths.
“You have extra eyes, floating around,” Damian said with no concern at all, and motioned to the art around Danny with the tip of his pencil. He paused, pencil hovering over the paper. “I' am sorry, that they did that.”
Danny closed his eyes, all of them, and breathed. He stuffed the bits and body back into himself. He let the breath out. “Thank you, Dami. I am… learning to move forward.”
“…can… I help?”
“You already do little one, never doubt it.”