Danny Torrance (redrumredrum) wrote in noexits, @ 2021-08-16 18:56:00 |
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When Wynonna was four, Ward took the girls — Willa and Wynonna at the time — to the nearby lake. The girls called it a lake, but really it was just a big pond. You could see straight through to the bottom in places, but that didn't mean there weren't snags. Wynonna found that out the hard way. Willa, six at the time, dared Wynonna to touch the bottom, count to ten, and come up. Wynonna wasn't one to cock out on a dare, not even at her age. Being an Earp in a town known for them came with a certain amount of reputation, most of it good. Her father was known as a drunk, and people in small towns talked. She'd been bullied for it, and given just as good as she got. Which meant she'd punch someone in the face. So when Willa told her she thought Wynonna would chicken out, Wynonna didn't. She immediately dove into the water before she'd even taken off her sundress. Ward never concerned himself with the girls when they were playing. He had a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of something amber, and sometimes zonked out before they could start screaming. Once she hit the water, Wynonna realized just how cold it was. Even in early May, the water was in the low 60s. Little Wynonna blew bubbles on her way down. Those bubbles might have popped in a cartoon and carried the word brrr with it. She stopped at the bottom, counted to ten, then — Nothing. Her dress was snagged on a large branch near the bottom. She began to panic as she tried to tug on her dress. Wynonna could see Willa standing at the edge of the lake. Another sixty seconds of struggling with her dress saw the little girl's fright grow until it was so frayed and endless that she thought she'd never be able to breathe again. A large figure dove into the water above her, and within seconds, she was pulled to the surface, gasping loudly and hard for air. Willa had gotten scared and Ward dove in after her. Wynonna never forgot that feeling of not being able to breathe. So when she was thrust back into her body some days later, it was just like Ward pulling her out of the water. Suddenly gasping and not able to get as much air as she needed. It felt like someone was playing an accordion with her lungs: here's some air, nah, let's get rid of it, here's some air. It took her another fifteen minutes and the stripping off of all of her clothing and down to her underwear to realize what had happened. She'd died saving a raccoon and this was the reset. It was the start of a new week, and she was alive again. Wynonna wasn't quite sure how she felt about that just yet, but the appearance of a familiar pink box on her nightstand put that thought on pause. Sassy Sally's. Was it really and truly a box of Sassy Sally's donuts? Dumb name aside, they really were the best donuts this side of the Triangle. Wynonna jumped up and opened the box. There were a dozen donuts, two of each of her favorites. At least the universe had the sense to give her something good from getting her head cut off. You know, aside from coming back. And saving the weird raccoon she'd risked herself for. PEACEMAKER! She tucked the box under her arm as she shuffled toward the door before realizing that she was wearing just underwear and a bra. She should probably at least put on a shirt. Eh, a tee shirt would do. Anyone who couldn't handle a woman in a pair of regular underwear and a tee shirt should probably have their priorities checked and Wynonna gave no fucks anyway. So after she tugged a tee shirt on, she tucked the box under her arm and made her way into the living area. She'd intended to knock on Dan's door, but he was already on the couch. Wynonna frowned down at him. She really hoped that her death had a) gone noticed and b) hadn't driven Dan to drink if it was. She pulled herself onto the couch next to him, her legs tucking beneath her, as she held out the box for him to choose a donut. "Penny for your thoughts?" She forced a quiet laugh. "Don't you hate it when people say that?" Dan had been up for hours, almost from the moment the reset happened. He’d tried whispering outside of Wynonna’s door at first, afraid to knock for fear that he would either wake her or that she wouldn’t be there, and then, unable to fall back asleep, made his way to the couch. Three cups of coffee later, the first cup had left a stain on the front of his scrubs because he hadn’t been paying attention, he was in that weird mental zone that was half-caffeinated and half-falling asleep. That is until Wynonna wandered in from around the corner with a box of donuts in hand. Dan blinked. He stared at her with a kind of bewildered amazement. But also in relief. Heavy, shoulder-relaxing relief. He didn’t know if she’d be able to return from what had happened to her. He didn’t know if anyone could have. That Derleth had the power to bring her back from that awful death was— Well, it was nothing short of a miracle. But maybe it was because Wynonna was strong, too. She may not have dressed like all of the so-called superheroes roaming about campus, but she was one. When she sat down beside him, Dan’s instinct was to hug her, but he held himself back for a moment because of the box of donuts between them. He didn’t know how long it would be before he got the image of her decapitated body out of his mind. Maybe it would never leave his thoughts. Always tucked away in some back cabinet filing drawer of things Tony managed. But seeing her alive and well and without any markings around her neck was just— Ah, hell. He reached over the box and gave her a slightly awkward hug. Awkward not because of the emotion behind it but because he couldn’t really embrace her fully with the dozen-or-so donuts between them. “God, I’m so glad you’re alive.” Then he let go because any longer and it would have been weird. Tony reminded him of that. Dan reached between his thigh and the arm rest and pulled Peacemaker out from its resting place. He’d kept it with him ever since he’d found her. He lifted it carefully before he held it out to her, handle first. “I was hoping you’d be here to take this back. Doesn’t really work for me.” Dan offered a crooked smile. Wynonna made some faint noises of protest, but the truth was that she was glad someone was happy to see her. Without her crew from back home, it seemed like she didn't matter to most people. She'd spent most of her life with the guilt of accidentally killing her father and the judgment of an entire town on her shoulders. She missed Waverly and Doc and Nicole and Jeremy. Even that old bastard Nedley. She was coming around to some other thoughts though. For starters, what she was even doing at the doors of Butler to see the raccoon's arrival. It had been weird though: one second, there was nothing there. The next, there was the raccoon. No flash of light, no portal, no door. Just poof, now you don't see it, now you do! Wynonna set the box of donuts down on the other side of her on the couch, and of course, that was the instant that Dan had chosen to stop hugging her and retrieved her gun instead! "Oh baby, did you miss me?" she asked, reaching for the gun and giving it a big old smooch before she hugged it to her chest. Then she tossed it on the other side of the box of donuts and launched herself at Dan for a bit of a more proper hug. This time, she wrapped her arms around him. Nothing romantic about it, just relief to be alive and that someone cared. When she thought she'd had a handle on it, she kept leaning against him. "Thank you for keeping her safe." Dan was surprised by the second round of hugs. Not that Wynonna wasn’t a physical person. She definitely had more of a foot in that world than Dan did. He’d always been more internal and introspective by nature. No, the hug didn’t surprise him because of that. But more by how well she seemed to be taking her return from the dead. Then again, Dan didn’t really reflect much on the time Loki had killed him. Accidentally, of course, but still. Perhaps that had been because he’d had the benefit of spending the rest of the week as a ghost, however. Maybe that had lightened the blow a little. Softened the trauma. Not that being a ghost was all that reassuring to Dan. His entire life was full of ghosts and hauntings. He’d prefer not to be part of that world if at all possible. Maybe Wynonna was pushing her death out of her thoughts as well. Sometimes it was better to just ignore something until the mind had time to process it. “It was the least I could do,” he said when the embrace ended. Dan didn’t go into the details of how he’d acquired Peacemaker. That wasn’t important. Nor did he want to force Wynonna to dwell on the moment any longer than necessary by bringing it up. Hopefully it was enough to know that he’d done what he could. Which, in the great scheme of things, hadn’t been much. Maybe he could have done more. Maybe he could have used the Shining on those creatures (MAYBE YOU COULD HAVE DIED TOO, DANNY BOY) but he didn’t. Allowing his mind to touch whatever existed inside those monsters had seemed like a bad idea at the time. Did that make him a coward? Perhaps. But there was nothing to do about that now. He tilted his head towards the box of donuts. “Did I see a Boston Cream in there?” Wynonna had a lot on her mind, death being among them. It was strange though; there had been a kind of peace with dying. Of knowing it was over. It was coming back that was kind of the bitch, waking up in your shell of a body and gasping for breath. No, Wynonna didn't mind dying, not if it meant that she'd saved someone. Which reminded her — "Did the raccoon make it? He popped up out of nowhere and started making noise." She'd tried to get his attention from inside the building, but that hadn't worked out. "I'm gonna be really pissed if he didn't make it." The box of donuts was retrieved once more, opened and displayed for Dan to have his pick. It was the very least she could do. "You can have half this box for keeping Peacemaker safe." That meant one of each, not all of three types. After all, every donut in this box was her favorite, and she knew she was not going to get another box of these. “The raccoon made it,” Dan said, not trying to think about how ridiculous that sounded. A talking raccoon. A smart talking raccoon, at that. Who would Derleth find next? “His name is Rocket. And he’s actually a pretty interesting guy, too. Once you get beyond the crass sarcasm. And the weird fact that he’s a raccoon.” Dan reached into the box and took one of the chocolate-covered donuts. “The two of you would probably get along really well, actually. You’re both pretty funny. There’s another new guy, too. Richie. He’s a comedian. I guess Derleth thought we needed some humor amidst all the crazy.” He slumped back into the sofa and took a bite of the donut at the exact moment she offered him half the box in return for babysitting her revolver. Dan covered his mouth while he laughed to avoid accidentally spitting out the crumbs. Then he shook his head. “The powers-that-be decided to gift you with a dozen donuts. I wouldn’t dream of taking them from you.” He held up the donut. “Even if this is a really fucking good donut.” He didn’t even know he missed donuts until this moment. “Not to be melodramatic or anything, but I wasn’t sure people were going to come back after last week. A lot of people disappeared.” Dan took another bite of the donut. He’d finally reached the cream filling. He didn’t want to call it orgasmic, but damn that was a really delicious donut. “Are these from your hometown? Because this is probably the best donut I’ve ever had in my life.” "I saved a crass, interesting, sarcastic talking raccoon? I think that earns me some bonus points," she replied, taking one of the donuts covered in sprinkles. She set the box down so she could give this donut the proper appreciation. Wynonna may have been looking at the donut with a leering gaze. She was going to fuck this thing up. The first bite drew an unseemly moan from her, but she didn't care. Let her be judged for her obsessive love of donuts. She did not care one bit. She nodded in reply to his question about them being from her hometown; it was all she could do at the moment. A second bite brought her back to her senses, but just enough to hold to a conversation. "Like disappeared with the notifications disappeared? Or died?" “It definitely ought to earn you some bonus points. Not sure if he’ll thank you though. He’s kind of bad with names. Or, at least, that’s the impression I get. I’m sure he’s grateful though.” That wasn’t Dan using his psychic powers to figure out. Just common sense. From what he’d seen of Rocket’s comments on the net board, the raccoon seemed like the sort who appreciated having his life saved. Dan didn’t know why but he got the impression that Rocket was more admirable than he looked. Or, better yet, more admirable than how he sounded. Like he could respect someone having his back. It was really weird to think of a raccoon in that way. But, appearances aside, Rocket came off as very human to Dan. That was also odd. But he was learning to accept odd as a natural event here in Derleth. Dan took another bite and withheld a grin at Wynonna’s almost lustful groan as she bit into her donut. Just a small quirk of a smile to show his amusement. “Both, actually. A lot of people died. But in the middle of all that death the disappearance notifications started going off like crazy. I don’t know if they died and disappeared or just disappeared, but it was quite a few people. None that I’d really spoken to before—” Dan felt a little guilty that he was relieved by that fact. “—but more than usual. I’m not sure if anyone tried to figure out if it was linked to the monsters. There wasn’t much time to reflect. There was just too much going on. As I’m sure you can imagine.” When he finished off the donut he wiped his hands on the shirt of his scrubs. He’d change them after he took a shower. Then he looked back at her, his expression more serious and subdued. “Are you okay?” "And everyone had to keep quiet while doing anything." His last question though… No, she wasn't okay. There had been a lot going through her head before she even set foot outside the dorm building. She'd had the shakes, she was thinking too much about how long it had been since her last drink. She'd gone through everything she'd had in her room and wasn't eager to share with anyone else that she was low. That was not a good sign. Even Good Time Wynonna could recognize that. Something had to be done. "You know, I was only down there because I was thinking about sneaking out and into the booze in the cafeteria. I'm out. In my room." If it sounded like a confession, it's because it was. "I was sloppy because of it too." “Yeah. I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of people visit the Green today just to scream it all out.” Dan paused. “Assuming of course that it’s safe to go outside.” There was always a rising sense of anticipation at the start of the new week. Dan wasn’t usually nervous about it. He didn’t feel the same trepidation that others did. And he knew others did because the first day of the new week always had a certain edge in the air before people left their rooms and discovered what new challenge awaited them. But Dan tried not to let it get to him. For him it was more that tingling sensation of knowing something was going to happen, but not necessarily when. Today, however, he was feeling a little less confident than normal. The silence of the previous week hadn’t been difficult for him. But the death. The carnage. And the constant fear that amidst all of that something would happen on the second and third floors— (PLAY WITH USSSSSS, DANNNNNNEEEEEE) —that’s what made him ill at ease. And then Wynonna said something Dan didn’t think he’d ever hear from her. A confession. No. The confession. The only one that mattered to people like them. When he looked at her he made sure it wasn’t with pity or sympathy. Nor did he display any enthusiasm or pride. Even if this was a good step — and it was a good step — it wasn’t something to be celebrated. Because if she decided to take the next step, it wouldn’t be easy. In fact, it would be fucking hard as hell. There was only one thing he could say in response. “You plan on doing something about that?” Wynonna had heard about those floors, knew there were ghosts. There were ways in her world of dealing with them, but would they work here? Would Peacemaker keep any revenants down if some should appear? Things just worked different here. And top of it all, she didn't have her crack team of big brains to fall back on. It would all be on Wynonna if things did fall through the cracks and land in their laps. Maybe Dan could help with that too. "I don't know. Yes? No? I want to, but — resources for it here are… I was getting the shakes," she told him. It was humiliating to say out loud. She'd been a functioning alcoholic for so long that the idea of just not drinking seemed so far outside of her grasp. These last few months here, living with the idea of what she'd done to Holt Clanton — she was losing it. And until the moment when she was standing at the doorway, she hadn't really realized it. She'd kept herself in a haze since she'd gotten here as a way to cope with what she'd done and that she had no one here. It was like being a teenager all over again after her dad's death. The pariah that people whispered about, pointing fingers at, and called her crazy. "I know I won't be able to do it alone, but I know it's a shitty thing to ask someone else." Dan sat there with his composed expression. Polite, but not reassuring. Understanding but not forgiving. He knew that if she asked him what he thought she might ask him, that it would change the way he’d have to be around her. Would it be a good change? Yes, he thought so. But it wasn’t enough for him to think something was a good idea. She had to think so, too. And she had to want it. And, more than that, she had to commit to it. Because it was one thing to want to change. Everyone wanted to change. BUt it was something else entirely to actually change. He wasn’t dispassionate. He knew what she was going through. He’d been there before. More than once. How many times had he ‘quit’ before it actually took hold? He couldn’t count. And he didn’t try counting anymore. The number of times he failed didn’t matter. What mattered was the one time he didn’t. That’s what he held onto everyday. That’s what he reminded himself of when he woke up first thing in the morning. And that’s what he told himself when he went to bed at night. It only took one success. But, on the other side of the same token, it would only take one drink to destroy that success. And even Dan, fifteen years sober, could still find himself on the wrong side of that coin if he didn’t work at it every single day. “It’s a shitty thing not to ask someone, Wynonna. Because the truth is, and I think you know it but I’ll say it anyway—you can’t do it alone.” He paused for a moment in thought. “But if you want something from me you have to ask for it. You have to say it clearly and with enough conviction to convince me to believe you. But before you do that, know that I will not tolerate any wishy-washy attempts at sobriety. And if you ask for my help I will be a fucking bane on your existence for as long as it takes.” Wynonna was terrified. The only time she ever felt this terrified was after the Clantons had sent a Reaper after her. All she felt from it was rage and hatred for her. There was nothing but murder and torture from it. She'd never felt anything like it, and it had been utterly terrifying. Maybe most people wouldn't think this on the same level, but to Wynonna Earp, it was. "I have a daughter," she told him. Wynonna couldn't remember if she'd ever mentioned Alice to him or not, but she was now. While the Curse was still attached to the Earps, she'd sent the baby away. Especially after the Clantons had tried to buy her baby. But that wasn't the only reason. It was the biggest, most pressing reason, sure, but on a personal level, Wynonna knew she would absolutely fuck this up. She was already a fuck up, and with her boozing and dangerous job, it would be even worse. She didn't want Alice to grow up with an alcoholic parent the way she had. "She'd be about two right now. I haven't seen her since — since I gave birth to her on a pool table in Shorty's." The memories of holding Alice, the tears. You're the best thing I ever did. Those memories, along with her death here, caused her emotions to run over. "I want to be able to face her one day. My dad — he was an abusive alcoholic. I don't want that for her." Wynonna was not a classy person, and the tears and sniffling was not met with a dainty handkerchief. She used the sleeve of her tee-shirt. The more she tried to ask, the more emotional she became, the more the words kept getting stuck in her throat. It took several tries because she was able to get out, "Will you help me stop drinking? I don't wanna be like this anymore. I wanna be able to look at myself in a mirror without hating everything I see. Please?" Drinking was exactly why Dan never had children. His father had been an abusive alcoholic, as well. And while he didn’t know about Alice, he was fairly certain he’d insinuated enough about his own father to Wynonna for her to know that they had a common bond. Dan always promised himself and his mother that he would never become Jack Torrance. And in struggling to not be his father, he became him anyway. He just didn’t notice it until it was too late. And by the time he’d become his father he was so far gone down the rabbit hole that it had taken years for him to turn himself around. Years for him to acknowledge that something had to be done. And then years more to get that something done. “A lot of people, people who haven’t been there, would say that your daughter is the reason why you should want to be sober. But I’m not going to say that. You can’t put your motivations on someone else’s shoulders. That’s not fair to them. Holding you up, keeping you out of the liquor cabinet, is not their responsibility. If you want to be sober, you have to want it for yourself.” Most drunks wouldn’t understand that, but Dan had a feeling Wynonna would. Or perhaps she already did. But it was one of those things that had to be spoken out loud. He wanted her to know that he wouldn’t accept her daughter as a reason for her wanting sobriety. Was her daughter a good supplemental excuse to help her get better? Yes. But Wynonna’s reason for getting clean had to be completely and utterly selfish. Just like her reasons for drinking. That’s the only way it would work. When she did finally ask him, Dan broke his stern stare with a small smile. Then he nodded. “Of course, I’ll help you. But just so we’re clear, this isn’t baseball. No three strikes and you’re out. I’ll give you two. Two fuck-ups because we live in a shitty alternate reality where nothing can be predicted.” Two strikes. Wynonna was terrified she was going to fuck it up. She was a notorious fuck-up. She'd killed her father on accident, her sister on purpose, and another man in the back. If that wasn't fuck-up city, she didn't know what was. She was not a movie star crier either, so it was nothing but ugly tears and snot. She was wishing she'd worn more than just this ratty t-shirt so she could use it to wipe her face. Instead, she used her hand. He was right though. She wasn't going to get anywhere if she didn't want this for herself, and Alice and Waverly, they were reasons to do it, but ultimately, it had to be for her. It wasn't fair to put any of this on them when they were not the reason she was drinking. She drank to forget all the fucked up shit she'd been through, and she knew it had been the same for Dan. Like father, like daughter. "Guess it's a good thing that whiskey fountain disappeared after all, huh?" It was meant to be a joke, but Wynonna actually found herself relieved. She was also relieved that she wouldn't have to find any full bottles in her room. She'd gone through everything already. The bottles, on the other hand, would need to go. She was mentally preparing herself. "I'm scared as fuck." When her tears increased, Dan stood up and grabbed a clean towel from his room. It was one of the few household products he’d picked up when they were in Disney. A small white bath towel embroidered with a Mickey Mouse head. He returned and sat back down beside her, offering the towel for her tears. Not that it would spare her shirt at this point which was already drenched from her sobs. Like father, like daughter. And like father, like son. It was ironic how much they had in common. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe that’s why Derleth had brought him here. To help Wynonna. Because Dan didn’t believe in coincidences. The Shining had long since taught him that coincidences weren’t real. They were always something else in disguise. Everything was connected. Why not Derleth as well? He offered a halfhearted smile at her whiskey fountain joke. It was funny as much as it was sad. And he understood why she had to say it. Humor was a beautiful defense mechanism. Dan reached out and placed a hand on hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Good. You should be scared. That means you realize how hard this is going to be.” He held onto her hand a little while longer before letting it go. “Do you need help getting rid of anything before we start down this path?” "There's bottles. Empty ones in my room." Too bad Derleth didn't have recycling. They could get a pretty penny back on all those bottles. Okay, there weren't really that many (that she could recall), but still. Waverly had pushed her and pushed her to recycle, despite the small town atmosphere that could not have cared less for Big City Notions. She looked over at her box of donuts, before realizing that she wanted coffee to go along with it. "I'm going to be drinking so much coffee, it's going to be scary." |