Dirges In The Dark by SecondGuess

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Bess was beginning to think that True wasn’t coming. She’d been trying to quietly usher her husband out of the Med Tent to give father and daughter some privacy, but a part of her, the naïve subconscious that had blossomed under the companionship of True and Uly over the past year, desperately wanted to witness the reunion. Bess knew how it felt to be eleven years old and terrified, to suddenly realize that your caregiver had been stolen from you and that you now carried the burden of their responsibility on your shoulders. She’d survived with the support of her father, but she couldn’t fathom how she would have endured if she’d been alone.

For a week now, Bess had watched True run the gambit of emotions. She’d seen her trembling with furious anger directed in every which way; seen her cry so hard she struggled to draw air into her lungs. Now, after her disheartening visit with her father a few days back, True had spent the last few days pretending that he was already irrevocably lost to her. With a mature mind and a childish heart, Bess desperately wanted to see the girl‘s brown eyes meet blue. She longed for the moment True’s wounded heart discovered that her Dad hadn’t gone anywhere at all.

Of course, if Devon and the little girl didn’t return soon, Morgan would soon deplete the entire crew’s supply of Spirolina in his furious efforts to ‘refuel’, and Danziger, who was not-so-convincingly pretending to be asleep, might do just that and miss the visit all together.

“Morgan, honey, True’ll be here any minute, why don’t we go get you some proper lunch.” She suggested again, peripherally noting Julia’s slight smirk. A few months ago, even a few days ago, Bess would have instantly began backpedaling, trying to find some way to defend her husband’s honor. Now she was certain that, while they did still find him occasionally exasperating, the other members of Eden Advance had miraculously come ‘round to the notion that--while he may not always succeed-- her husband usually meant well.

“I think it’s important we give them some privacy, Morgan, True’s been pretty upset.” Julia chimed in, and at the doctor’s patient but pointed look seemed to finally strike home with the hungry lawyer.

“Okay, okay, we’re going. Jeez, bleed a man dry and then send him on his way!” He declared overdramatically, a teasing smile lighting his face as he stood from the workbench and rolled down his sleeve. Casting a glance at the faux-slumbering Danziger, Bess was sure she caught a hint of a smirk.

“You rest up, Danziger.” She whispered tenderly, rising from her spot on his cot. “Your medicine is on the way.”

As if on cue, the crisp crinkle of the tent flap signaled a hesitant arrival, and True’s head appeared in the folds like a skittish Koba looking for a snack.

“Is he still sleeping?” She asked, her gaze instantly falling on her father’s drawn features. Her voice was fraught with the concentrated effort of someone trying to hide a broken heart.

At the sound of his daughter’s voice, floating softly across the dwarfed expanse of the tent, something in Danziger’s psyche caught spark, and suddenly he realized he had been able to hear her, the last time she’d been by to visit. As clear as day, he could remember clutching for dear life to the hushed whisper; a dream, he’d thought, a hallucination. But even in his unconscious state his heart had recognized the faint murmurs for what they truly were: a lifeline.

His already closed eyelids suddenly weighed down by emotion, he spoke gently into the taut silence of the tent.

“She had mittens.”

At his strange declaration, the three adults in the room exchanged nervous glimpses, as though perhaps this visit hadn’t been such a good idea at all. Confusion etched a path across True’s face as well, but was soon replaced by a smile so bright it could have lit the entire Quadrant.

“The cat that swallowed a ball of wool?” She asked, not quite believing her ears. Testing the waters inside the Med Tent, she offered up a test question: “Why did the chicken cross the playground?”

Eyes still closed, Danziger rumbled a weak chuckle. “To get to the other slide.”

“Daddy.” True whispered, running to his side, fighting the urge to leap into his big, comforting arms. Instead, she climbed carefully onto the cot, leaning in to rest her chin on his chest. She brushed a small hand over his forehead as if to say ‘open sesame’ and was promptly met with the twin swimming pools of his expressive, deep blue gaze.

“Hey True-Girl.” He rasped, perilously close to loosing control of his emotions. He rubbed a hand up her back, tangling his fingers in the silken strands of her cinnamon tresses. “I missed ya.”

For a minute, the pair could do nothing but relish the closeness, their hands administering tender touches, silently draining away the venom that forced separation had built up in their systems. Neither noticed the Martins stealing away, or the tears that Julia brushed from her own eyes quietly in the corner.

“You could hear me?” True asked, her thumb stroking a lazy pattern across her father’s whiskered cheek. Danziger felt a sting at the disbelief in her big brown eyes.

“’Course I could.”

He wanted to say more, desperately wanted to convey everything he’d ever loved about the spitfire miracle with her cheek pressed to his heart. He wanted to tell her that even if she’d stayed behind on the Stations he would have been able to hear her thoughts; that still, months after they’d lost Firestein and Wentworth, he fell asleep every night savoring the resurrected bliss of watching her toddle in her ducky overalls. He wanted to tell her that every breath he drew belonged only to her. Instead, he said: “Gimme a kiss.” There’d be time for everything else later.

True scooted quickly up to eye level, painfully jostling him in a way he didn’t mind in the least, and squarely pecked him on the mouth, then on both cheeks.

“I missed you, too.” She informed him, her open-book expression giving him a glimpse of the suffering this latest chapter had caused her. “Devon says your gonna get all better.” She grinned, her fingers absently playing with the shell of his ear. “I think maybe, just this once, you should listen to her, Dad.”

The seriousness in her tone made Danziger snort, pulling her closer despite the trembling ache that had resumed it’s tour of duty through his battered body. Even Julia, doing her best to remain invisible on the opposite end of the tent let out a chortle. Suddenly sitting up, True stared down at him with grave concern.

“Am I hurting you, Daddy?” She asked in fright, and Danziger realized belatedly that perhaps his mask of imperviousness had faltered.

“Naah, I’m okay. It hurts worse when you’re not here, True-Girl.” He assured her, squeezing her arms reassuringly. Despite his certainty, she extricated herself from his embrace carefully, nervously eyeing his decorated arm. “Hey, it’s okay, baby, where you goin?” He asked lightly, tugging at her jumper.

“I’m just being more careful.” She brushed him off solemnly. “We all have to be more careful. Besides, Devon was right, you definitely neyed a shave.” Suddenly uncomfortable, she fumbled in her waist pouch for the razor, unable to meet her father’s eyes.

John decided to let it be for the moment, knowing that no matter how much he wanted to be invincible for her, the situation was what it was. This wasn’t a scraped cheek or a twisted ankle, and no amount of True-Girl Kisses were going to make him better just yet.

Just as Julia and Devon had been frank with her, he had to resign himself to what he must look like in this bed, and the inevitable consequences of his injuries. For the moment, regardless of how much it pained him, he had to let True feel what she was feeling, even if it meant she was too scared to touch him.

“You sayin’ I shouldn’t keep on growin’ it?” He asked taking mock offence, a shaky hand rubbing his chin. “I was thinkin’ we could see how long it gets, maybe you could just braid it for me, instead.”

Reluctant to be amused, True nevertheless let slip a Mona Lisa smile. “Don’t be gross, Dad. The last thing you need on that head is more hair.” Bustling with anxious energy, she left his side to retrieve a mug of water and a small cake of soap, practically shoving Julia out of the way to do so.

“True squared.” He teased, his usual response when she was right about something. Squeezing his eyes shut at the discomfort while she was safely distracted, he opened them to find Julia had been displaced to end of his cot, where she continued to add to her unending list of monitor readings. “What’s the verdict, doc? Those top secret cyborg attachments healing up?” She looked up and wordlessly smiled, acknowledging his attempt at levity though she didn’t think it would have much of an effect. From across the tent, her back to him as she readied his ablution, True sighed heavily.

“It’s not funny.” She informed him softly, and Julia watched as Danziger winced again, clearly floundering for control of the awkward situation at hand. He looked like a man on trial, nervously searching his surroundings for an ally. As it was, there was only an exhausted doctor, a troubled eleven-year-old, and the creeping pain that would no doubt set them both off.

“You okay?” Julia asked softly, already knowing the answer.

“Right as rain, Doc.” He bluffed. “A bit hairy, but I’m about to have corrective surgery.” Julia placed her HoloPad on top of one of the beeping gadgets.

“Maybe you should cut off some of that hair while he’s immobile, True.” She suggested lightly, catching John’s eye as he hesitantly glanced up at the depleted pouch of medication hanging above his head. She left his side as True returned, whispering “Forty-five minutes.” As she passed, lightly squeezing his arm.

“We made a deal, he can keep the hair as long as it doesn’t get longer than mine, right Dad?” She asked as she took up residence of the stool by his cot. Danziger noted that the mirth was back in her expression, that in her short jaunt away from his side she’d apparently worked out some of her conflicting emotions.

“That was the deal, True-Girl.” He responded softly, watching as her deft little hands quickly worked the dry soap into a foam, the way he’d taught her patiently when she was six years old.

“Try not to move, Dad.” She admonished, smoothing the lather gently on his pale cheeks. “I’ve never done this with you lying down before, I might slip and cut off your nose.” She giggled as he jerked his head purposely, getting a streak of soap on his forehead.

“Missed a spot.” He informed her, when she was nearly done, puckering his lips expectantly. Rolling her eyes at his insistence that she was still a little girl, but secretly eager to play along, she leaned in to give him another kiss. He sighed with such relief that she couldn’t help but pat his head gently.

“It’ll be okay, Dad. You’ll see.” She promised, wiping away the errant suds. Tilting up his chin with amazing care, she delicately got to work.

Danziger concentrated all his efforts on remaining perfectly still, doing his best to ignore the strengthening pain building in his lower body. Determined not to frighten his little girl, he opted to enjoy the companionable silence, not really trusting his voice to hide the ache. Sadly, he realized, cracking open an eyelid as True paused to wipe the blade, the emotional link they shared traveled in both directions.

Glowering at the blankets covering his ruined legs, razor poised in her hand as an afterthought, True reached over and silently sought out his index finger, wrapping her small hand around tightly.

“It hurts a lot, doesn’t it?” She whispered, studying his exposed foot, listing over the edge of the cot, perfectly void of even the slightest bruise.

Danziger was unsure of how to answer, sensing a challenge in his child’s muted question.

“Yeah, it does, Sport.” He sighed, wiggling his finger in her grasp. “I’m sorry that I scared you, before. Sorry you had to hear me weepin’ and wailin’.” He offered up; a feeble apology even to his own ears. He had no idea how to explain what it had been like, to feel something so horrible you wish for death even as you‘re begging to be saved. You didn’t even try, John realized, feeling helpless as another wave of fire crashed against his left leg. Those horrors where the exact things you were on this earth to protect your children from.

“I tried not to listen too much.” She attempted to comfort him, seeing his distress. “Bess and Morgan did a good job of trying to cheer me up. Even Uly was extra nice. It kinda made me feel worse though.” She confessed, resuming her task, the thin scrape of the blade across his skin thunderous in the hushed dome.

“Why, baby?” He asked, careful not to move his mouth, distractedly wondering how many minutes he had left until his next dose of pain block. It was getting increasingly hard not to squirm against the discomfort.

“He was letting me play with all his stuff, and always trying to hug me. So wasn’t Bess, even Morgan let us use whatever VG games we wanted to…but I…I just…” She finished shaving him with a final swipe of the razor, using the cloth to gently wipe away the remainder of the make-shift shaving cream. Stretching his newly shorn face, Danziger raise a hand to test it’s smoothness, craftily covering a pained grimace.

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart.” He assured her, reaching up to cup her cheek gently. True was getting upset, and this was the last thing he wanted, but at the same time he’d much rather she fall apart in his presence, where he could soothe her as much as possible. He cared for Bess a great deal and he owed the Martins a great debt of gratitude, but he was the only one who he wanted raising his daughter. Old habits died hard.

“I don’t want a brother…and I don’t want new parents, I just wanted you.” She exclaimed softly, her lip trembling. “Daddy, I was so scared that I would never see you again…I could hear you screaming, and I didn’t want to see, but I wanted to be with you…” She dissolved into tears, and John exhaled a small sound of despair, reaching for her to come to him.

“Come up here with me.” He asked, half ordering, half begging. Fingers stretching in the minute gap between them.

“No! I d-don’t want to h-hurt you.” She cried, breath hitching violently, pulling away.

Frustrated, the agony in his lower body assaulting him with each movement, he fought to sit up on his elbow, frantic with the sudden need to feel his daughters heart beating against his own.

“True, honey…please! C’mere now, you won’t hurt me.” He implored, Julia creeping closer at the sight of his movement, obviously displeased. She bit her lip, determined not to interfere, but she hated the sight of Danziger’s obvious physical pain just as much as she hated his emotional suffering.

“True, it’s okay…come on, I’ll help you get up there so you don’t hurt him a bit, okay?” She found herself interjecting loudly, moving forward towards the girl even as Danziger slumped back in exhaustion. Carefully, gathering the intravenous lines at John’s side she swiftly delivered the little girl into her father’s arms, painstakingly guiding her legs to rest in a spot that shouldn’t cause him too much discomfort.

“Shhh, True-Girl, it’s fine…I’m fine…” He chanted, tucking the crying girl’s head beneath his chin to shield her from his discomfort.

“I’m hurting you!” She insisted, even as her hand came up to grasp a handful of his chest hair gently, his kisses falling on her hairline.

“No you’re not, baby…you could never hurt me, shhhh, now…It’s okay…don’t cry.” He gasped, his eyes red with tears. Julia did her best to situate the pair, and once True settled into her father’s warmth, both Danzigers seemed instantly better off. The little girl’s sobs instantly began to quiet, and even her father, with her gentle weight pressing into his injuries, seemed to teem with completion. She watched as he cooed and coddled his daughter, his deep, rich voice utterly void of any of the misery fleeting across his face. She checked her watch. Still at least a half an hour to go.

“I love you, Daddy.” True breathed, transporting John to the past, to their cramped little quarters on the Stations, when they shared a bed out of necessity, and True was too young to know that it was the Danziger way to stifle all emotions.

“I love you too, True-Girl.” He whispered, his eyes finally falling shut. “Why don’t you take a rest, sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll still be here when you wake up, okay?” He asked tentatively, still weary of saying the wrong thing.

“Yeah.” She mumbled, her response lackluster and surprisingly grumpy. Danziger rubbed his hand in wide, calming circles over her back. He knew a tired True when he saw one.

After a few minutes, when True’s crying had fully subsided, Danziger felt her let out a huge breath, as though she’s been holding it since the news of his accident had first been relayed over gear. Neither one of them had noticed Devon creep into the tent, taking a silent seat beside Julia in the corner, both of them watching in awe as traditional medicine flew out the window. With his little girl beside him, John looked more comfortable than he had in days.

“Hey True-Girl?” He murmured, on the cusp of sleep.

“Yeah?’ She exhaled, not stirring from her position.

“Why did the cookie go to the doctor?” He slurred, his hand finally stilling in her hair as he let himself go.

“Cause he felt crummy.” True whispered in response, following her father into slumber.

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