Chapter Text
"You have a visitor,” came his nurse’s voice.
It was probably more cops, Daniel thought, or maybe someone from the cult there to finish him off already. He supposed he should be sad that there was no one he could think of who might seriously want to see him, but he was past the point of being sad about his situation. If he was being honest with himself, this had been a long time coming.
"He looks a bit like you except for the hair. He your brother?"
Wait, what? Daniel shot up in bed, and instantly regretted the pain that resulted. That idiot wasn't seriously here was he? Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out.
"Fine. Send him in."
Sure enough, in stepped David, all smiles and holding an armful of flowers. So someone actually did want to see him. Granted, it was not someone he ever would have chosen.
"Hey Danny!" The camp counselor's greeting was uncomfortably familiar. Typical. He held the bouquet out with a grin and Daniel took it warily. "How are you holding up?"
"I had to get my stomach pumped, I have constant stomach cramps thanks to poison eroding my stomach lining, and I can't even eat solid food for the next two weeks." His blunt tone matched his glare. "Why are you here?"
"I wanted to see how you were doing." David said sympathetically. "Maybe see if I could cheer you up."
Unlikely, Daniel thought as he glanced sideways at the counselor—and noticed that he had a gift bag hanging off his arm.
"I'm sorry that you're so sick right now. But that's why the campers and I put together a little care package for you!" He cringed at the mention of the campers as the ridiculously cheery man began rummaging through the bag.
One by one David set the items he retrieved down on the nightstand. There was a store-bought card with a bandaged teddy bear on the front. Daniel could see a few different names and notes scrawled inside of it from where he sat. The card was followed by a couple of candy bars (probably bought in the gift shop on the way in), a pack of playing cards (he didn’t even know how to play solitaire), a few magazines (probably Gwen's, and therefore, probably garbage) and—Daniel almost had to laugh at the tone-deafness of the gift—a package of grape Jell-O. He half expected a bottle of rat poison to follow, but the man's ear-to-ear grin told him that he was sincere about his choice of presents.
Daniel let out a hollow, cackling laugh. "Is this some sort of joke?" He said dryly.
"No." David's grin faltered. "No, of course not."
He actually sounded serious, much to the other man's amusement. Was he really so stupid as to think they were actually friends? Or did he just pity him? Daniel was more inclined toward the latter explanation, although David really didn’t strike him as the condescending sort. Self-righteous, sure, but not pretentious.
"Look, Daniel." David sighed as he seated himself in a chair across from the bed. "I know we didn't exactly part ways on the best of terms. And that was partly my own fault." He stared at the floor. "You were doing a great job and I was jealous. I shouldn't have tried to drive you off, and for that, I'm really sorry.”
When he looked up at Daniel again, this time he wore a faintly hopeful smile. “But for what it's worth, I want to try to mend things with you." He shyly offered his hand. "So, what do you say?"
Daniel spent a good minute or so staring back and forth between David and his hand, which hung awkwardly between them. It was a pitiful sight, truth be told.
"Are you really this stupid?" he finally said.
He did not miss the way the counselor’s voice cracked. “What?” came the small exclamation that followed.
"Exactly how do you think I wound up in here David?" he sneered. "I had bigger plans for your camp—a bigger purpose for it—than you ever could have imagined. But you had to go and ruin it. It’s done, I failed, and there’s no fixing it now. So just go, okay?" he laid back down in his bed and pulled the sheet over himself. "Please."
"Daniel, just let me-"
“No.”
“But-”
"Goodbye David," he said loudly.
David opened his mouth only to shut it again. "Well, okay," he said solemnly. "Feel better I suppose." He took a few steps back, then he suddenly paused. "Is there something specific that might help you?"
"Yes. You leaving. We were just over this."
"Besides that. Something that might make you feel better or help pass the time?"
Daniel stayed silent. David waited a few moments, but no response came. He turned around, ready to head for the door—and then he heard it. "I like crossword puzzles."
Daniel didn’t see it, but David was grinning as he left the room. Eventually he forgot about the conversation, but David, on the other hand, did not. Not that Daniel knew—after all, he assumed that the camp counselor's visit would be the last time their paths ever crossed. Just one meeting—done only to relieve any guilt on David's part, most likely—and then it was back to their separate lives. Maybe he should not have answered David at all, he wondered in hindsight. He should not have given David any reason to think that he might be receptive to his company in the slightest. Daniel decided in the end that it didn’t matter. He would probably never see the camp counselor again anyway.
"Gooood morning, Daniel!"
He could not have been more wrong. David was back the very next day with yet another gift bag and a beaming smile for him, which made his own sour expression tighten upon seeing the man's face. "What do you want now?"
"I brought something I know you'll like this time!" He carefully pulled out the contents of the bag and laid them out on the nightstand. There were a couple of crossword puzzle books and a few soft graphite pencils, plus a newspaper.
"You mentioned that you liked crosswords," David added. Daniel had actually begun to regret saying anything about that yesterday, but he had shrugged it off, having figured that the man would not even remember it. So much for that.
"Thanks. I guess," he mumbled as he grabbed one of the books. David handed him a pencil with a sympathetic smile. Naturally, he was not allowed to have anything that could be considered a weapon, which meant no sharp objects of any kind. However, these pencils were all graphite, and they were soft enough that he was surprised they did not crumble in his fist.
"Hey, um," David sounded more flustered than afraid, "Would you mind if I, maybe, stayed here for a bit?"
He actually did have to think about it for a moment. On the one hand, he did not especially want David around, but on the other hand, he did not especially want to be alone either.
"That depends on if you plan to keep talking," he finally decided.
David mimed zipping his mouth shut. Daniel rolled his eyes, but still gave him a murmur of approval. The counselor walked around to the plastic chair on the other side of the bed and sat down, newspaper in hand. He was true to his word, at least; Daniel did not hear a peep from him after he sat down. The only sounds between them were the scratch of a pencil or the occasional flip of a page, at least until Daniel cursed under his breath.
"What's wrong?" David set his newspaper down just enough to be able to glance his way.
Daniel raked a frustrated hand through his hair. "I'm stuck on a row. I need a nine-letter word that starts with an 'F' and has a 'T' in the middle."
"Have you tried 'frustrated'?"
"It doesn't fit."
"What's the hint?"
""Sardonic.""
David looked pensive for a moment as he chewed at his bottom lip. "Hmm. What about 'facetious'?"
"Maybe. How do you spell it?"
"F-A-C-E-T-I-O-U-S."
The scratch of the pencil stopped as it was set aside. "Huh, it works." Daniel's face became slightly more relaxed. "Thanks."
He had not lingered on his reply, nor was he particularly emotional when he said it—it was just one word, but it still took the counselor off guard. On the inside, David was buzzing with joy not unlike the kind he felt whenever Max seemed to genuinely enjoy a camp activity, and just like with Max, he forced himself to stay composed, because he knew that if Daniel was made aware of how much it had touched him that he would then make a point of never doing it again, ever. At first the silence from Daniel made him worry that the man had caught onto him, but he soon realized that he was only back to being engrossed in his puzzle, thankfully, unaware of the counselor beaming at him.
"No problem," David replied as he went back to reading his newspaper.
They remained like that, quietly absorbed in their own tasks, for the better part of the hour, but David found that the silence had grown from purely awkward to almost comfortable in that time. He looked up from his reading every so often to check on Daniel, who continued to sit hunched over the book that rested on his knees, hands smudged with graphite and his face screwed tight with concentration. Every so often the silence would be punctuated, but usually only by Daniel mumbling to himself while he tried to figure out a particular word—or the sound of him cracking his neck. The sharp snapping sound made David wince every time; it just sounded painful, although he knew that if it hurt as bad as it sounded like it did, then Daniel probably wouldn't be doing it.
Daniel only seemed to do it more as time went on though, and although David was concerned, he figured that he should leave the man alone about it. It was only after he heard the clatter of something hitting the floor that he knew something was really wrong.
"Daniel!" He gasped as he threw down his paper and ran over to the bed, nearly tripping over the book that had fallen.
Daniel bucked against the metal bars of the headboard, his head snapping back repeatedly as his arms jerked sporadically at his sides. He didn't speak—he couldn't speak—save for an occasional hitching cough that pelted his face with spittle.
Despite his scrambling, David did manage to quell his panic long enough to slam his fist against the nurse call button to Daniel's right, then quickly shove the remaining books and pencils away from the bed. Next, slowly and very carefully, he pulled him slightly forward by his shoulders, creating just enough space to put a few inches between his head and the wall behind him. Keeping one hand on his shoulder blade, David used his other hand to pull Daniel's pillow up above the headboard and into the space between him and the wall. After a moment that felt like hours, Daniel's harsh breathing began to slow, his trembling stopped, and he gradually sank against the bed. David put an arm around his shoulders and rolled him onto his side, placing the pillow underneath his head as he did. He kept the palm of his hand flat against Daniel's back as he let his grip slide, and instead switched to rubbing the man's back in large, slow circles.
"It'll be okay Daniel," he kept his voice soft, barely above a whisper. "You're going to be okay." He cooed to him as one might do for an ailing child, keeping a tentative hand on Daniel all the while.
Two nurses arrived just over a minute later. David gave them a brief rundown of what happened, and then once they took over, he cleaned up the mess of books and fallen pencils from the floor and neatly replaced them on the nightstand. The nurses needed to check for injuries, so David agreed to leave, but not without casting one last worried look at Daniel's back before making his exit—as well making as a silent promise to come back as soon as he could.
He did come back the very next day, albeit much later in the evening than planned. That was mostly due to him and Gwen having to spend a longer time than usual cleaning up the aftermath of a painting activity that had escalated into acrylic-based guerilla warfare. When he tried to sign in, the receptionist informed him that Daniel was with his doctors and would not be done until after visiting hours were over. He was clearly upset to receive the news, but he thanked her anyway as he left, sulking—only to immediately rush back to the desk after passing by the gift shop. Since he would not be able to see Daniel, he asked if he could leave something for him instead. It took a bit of convincing on his part, but she eventually caved, much to his delight. Almost giddily, he plunked a plain Hershey Bar down on the counter with instructions to leave it for Daniel to find when he came back. The receptionist assured him that she would give it to his nurse, and was silently amused at the overwrought gratitude he gave her as he was leaving.
True to her word, she gave it to Daniel's nurse, who then left it at his bedside table after handing him off to the gastroenterologist he was supposed to meet with. When Daniel returned to his room much later that night, the nurse was nowhere to be found for explanation. That being said, it didn't take much guessing to figure out where the candy bar had come from. He could see his himself grimacing at it in the polished reflection of the nightstand as it dawned on him. It was only while he was crawling into bed that he also took notice of the feeling that had welled up in his chest upon seeing the candy. It felt familiar—a chill that bloomed and settled somewhere beneath his ribs, then descended into the pit of his stomach. It was a mild but achingly familiar sense of dread. Just as quickly as the thought had sprung up, he tried to force it out of his mind, even shaking his head as it hit the surface of his pillow, just as if he were shaking apart a picture on an Etch A Sketch. But it was no matter, he decided, he was just exhausted and dazed from the day. This meant nothing. Some sleep would clear his head—clean the slate, so to speak, he thought as he drifted off to sleep without so much as touching the candy.