Chapter Text
Daniel rushed into the apartment, searching through the boxes they hadn’t unpacked in the 6 months or so they’d lived in Reseda. It was late, but he had to hurry. Time was of the essence.
It’d been 3 days since Johnny had gone missing. Daniel hadn’t thought anything of it. He’d been enjoying that high of winning. He’d been practically floating on air. He had just assumed, as almost the whole school had, that Johnny was out licking his wounds. That he was living it up in his mansion in the Hills eating tubs of ice cream and watching TV or playing video games with a butler telling him that he’d done good and he’d get them next time, cheer up buck.
What he hadn’t expected was the way Bobby’s voice had cracked that morning when he’d asked with haunted eyes if Daniel of all people had seen Johnny in the last three days.
He was missing.
The box was taped too well. Daniel cut his hand trying to open it and he cursed. His hands were trembling. 3 days was a long time. Too long.
Maybe it hadn’t been 3 days fully.
He searched for a knife. Scissors, anything.
He bent down trying to cut through the tape with his teeth, and then there it went, pierced through with a snap and he yanked it open, pulling out everything he didn’t need until his fingers hit that heavy book at the bottom of the box.
His mother said that she’d left it behind.
She hadn’t brought it with them.
But there it was.
He set it on the counter and opened the book, wincing at the paper cut he got. Not caring about the stuff strewn around the floor. His ma was going to be pissed.
“Seriously? I’m already bleeding,” Daniel grumbled, flipping through the pages, not caring about the blood on it.
The pages were blank.
“Come on!”
It stayed blank.
Daniel picked it up prepared to throw the book when ink spilled on the page.
A map.
Here lies…
A little red arrow.
Daniel’s stomach dropped.
He cursed.
He ran into his room, grabbed his backpack, a couple of things strewn around the ground and from the cabinets, and then hastily wrote his ma a note before hurrying out to the Ford, pausing to go into Mr. Miyagi’s office, grabbing a shovel from the wall and driving.
He drove over the speed limit, cursing as he did so, thinking of Johnny, surrounded by his friends smiling, and that little red arrow, what here lies meant.
He parked, grabbed his bag and the shovel, and he thought of the haunted look on the cobra’s friends, the quiet whispers in school as what Bobby asked spread. As everyone started to ask the same question.
Where’s Johnny?
Daniel stood at the top of a hill overlooking the valley.
Other than the disturbed dirt there was no sign of anything else.
“How far down?” Daniel asked dropping the book, watching it open.
The pages stayed blank.
“How far down,” Daniel asked holding the shovel at it, prepared to spear the book if he had to.
Shallow.
Daniel grumbled, pulling out a sheet from his bag, covering the dirt with it, watching it, the way it adjusted, and he went to work, digging around the way it fell, listening to the wind howl, the Santa Ana winds screaming, kicking up dirt.
“What the hell happened Johnny?” Daniel asked. “What the hell man? You can’t just be some bastard on top of the world and then I win and you aren’t around to tell me anything beyond I’m okay. Huh? What about the rest of senior year man?”
He hit roots and he looked up at the tree, the way the leaves moved on the wind. He winced.
“Sorry,” he said as he dug until the sheet shifted and Daniel set aside the shovel, digging his fingers through the dirt along where he’d been until he hit something solid. Something clammy.
He hit skin and fabric and he brushed away dirt faster until he free’d one jean clad leg, then another and one torso. That red jacket.
He kept digging until he got to Johnny’s head, brushing dirt from shut eyes, his black hatchimatchi covering them, pulled down. Clearing away dirt in blonde hair.
3 days.
He knew it, by looking at him, how stiff, how lifeless he was.
“Dammit Johnny,” Daniel said getting out of the dirt, ignoring the book and going to his bag.
He pulled out stones, setting them on his shoulders, ankles, wrists and down his abdomen. He pulled out a vial they made every year that he'd grabbed from the cabinet, the last time they'd made it he'd lived in Newark, and for a moment he felt homesick, how familiar it was, how his Ma usually did this, and he knelt down using his thumb to gently part Johnny’s lips to pour it down Johnny's throat frowning a little at the red that was left behind looking at his hand, at his thumb covered in blood, he stuck it in his own mouth.
“Johnny, you can’t just lay here. You gotta come back and finish senior year. You can’t be just a tragedy buried in an unmarked grave and shallow at that. Who the hell did it? Huh? What happened? Shouldn’t you be pissed and getting revenge? What’s going on here huh? Come on! Come back, get back here right this instance! Or else I’ll take over your sad little cobras. You hear that? I’ll take your place man if you don’t come back right this second! I’ll— I’ll marry Ali if you don’t hurry back! I’ll pop the question in school!"
Nothing.
“Johnny come on man. So what if you lost a karate tournament you can’t just lay here! I will just sit here until you get up and I’ll talk your ear off the whole time. The only way you’ll get me to shut up is by coming back here and shutting me up yourself. Do you want to hear about school? Or Newark? I could tell you about Newark—”
The wind was practically shrieking. The sheet was picked up and gone, yanked from the earth and moving away too fast for Daniel to even try to catch it, instead he pushed up that hatchimaki so it wasn’t covering Johnny’s eyes.
“So around this time in Newark there’s snow on the ground and—”
Johnny opened his eyes with a groan.
“Will you shut up?”
“Make me,” Daniel said.
Johnny sat up, dirt sliding off of him.
He reached towards Daniel, all stiff. And Daniel hopped out of the way.
“Come on Johnny, bring it. I bet you can’t even throw a damn punch.”
Johnny glared at him, pushing himself up out of the ground, more dirt pouring off of him.
Daniel shifted into that ready position, his knee was pissed at it all but he wasn’t going to show it. He just grinned at Johnny. “Where are those fancy high kicks of yours huh?”
Johnny swung and stumbled and Daniel moved out of the way. Smacking him with the palm of his hand on his back and Johnny spat out dirt, turning towards him, he threw another punch, faster than the last but still too slow and Daniel ducked out of the way.
“Oh come on Johnny that’s the best you got huh? Come on I’m right here. I won’t shut up till you get a hit.”
Johnny glared at him, and then tilted his head like he heard something on the wind and then he was running and Daniel yelped because that was too fast and he took off down the hill with Johnny on his heels, ducking and weaving and feeling like a rabbit chased by a hound out for blood.
He stopped when he got to bottom of the hill, his knee shrieking and he turned wincing and Johnny jumped and that kick came like a sack of bricks right into Daniel’s chest until he was on the ground and then Johnny was on him, fingers twisting into in his shirt and Daniel braced himself for the punches but instead he felt something wet on his face and he reached out to grab a rock in case it was wrong, in case he’d done it incorrectly—in case he'd brought back a brain eating zombie or something, in case Johnny had come back wrong or something else had come back in Johnny, but no black tears were running down Johnny’s cheeks, and his hands were shaking.
Daniel let go of the rock and he rested a hand on Johnny’s leg, a gentle pat.
“Hey man, let’s get you cleaned up. How’s a nice warm bath sound? Take your time,” Daniel said softly as Johnny sat there on him, a heavy weight on his chest, crying wordlessly.
Eventually he got off of Daniel and Daniel got up, walking Johnny to the Ford, helping him into the passenger seat and going back up the hill, refilling the hole, putting some of the dirt in a jar, gathering up all his things and the book before going back down.
He drove Johnny home. Not the mansion in the hills but to his home. Past his ma’s car, and he parked and walked Johnny up the steps to the apartment, walking him into the bathroom.
Johnny stood leaning against the wall, leaving dirt everywhere, but the tears he shed were no longer black.
Daniel opened up his bag, pouring oils and salts and herbs into the water until it practically glowed and was golden.
“Alright Johnny in you go.”
Johnny stripped slowly, tears still running down his face before he climbed into the water. Daniel got a wash cloth covering it with soap as Johnny sat there staring straight ahead, hugging his knees to his chest.
Daniel didn’t see any wounds. Nothing was missing. So he gently scrubbed at Johnny’s arm and shoulders, back, but when he got close to Johnny’s neck he jerked back and away, staring at Daniel with wide terrified eyes that made Daniel’s blood go cold.
“How about you do your neck and I wash your hair huh?” Daniel said holding out the wash cloth.
Johnny took it with a shaky hand.
“Really the dirt sucks sometimes. You don’t want to sleep with it on your neck. Get’s itchy.”
Johnny washed gently, carefully. The golden water turning almost black.
Daniel went to work on his hair, wetting it carefully with a cup, surprised with the way Johnny shut his eyes and leaned back his head.
Daniel shampoo’d his hair, running his fingers through it until that dull look of it faded and it looked almost golden again, rinsing out his hair and then gently getting a new wash cloth, and washing Johnny’s face. Once Johnny was clean Daniel handed him a towel, and some clothes that didn’t fit quite well but worked. An oversized sweater working as a regular sweater on his frame, but Daniel’s shorts looking tight.
Daniel walked him to his room, pulling back the covers of his bed.
“I know you don’t want to sleep,” Daniel said as Johnny stared at him with a frown. “But believe me you need a healing sleep. You’re safe here okay? So get some rest, I’m going to wash up and I’ll wash your clothes okay? Here,” Daniel said passing Johnny a stuffed bear.
Johnny stared at him before crawling into Daniel’s bed. Daniel pulled the covers up to his shoulders and after staring at Johnny who stared at him he gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’ll be okay. Sleep well Johnny.”
His ma was standing outside his bedroom with her arms crossed. She followed him into the bathroom.
“What the hell did you do?”
“What I had to.”
“You left me a note saying ‘Ma I’ll be back, gotta wake Johnny up from the dead.’ Daniel, what the hell happened?” Lucille asked holding up the note.
“I dunno. But he was buried in a shallow grave Ma. I couldn’t just leave him there.”
“How long?”
“Three days.”
She sighed, “Daniel.”
“I know Ma. But I couldn’t—”
She pulled him into a hug. “Oh honey, I know. I know.”
“He’s—”
“I know.”
He cleaned up, put Johnny’s clothes in the wash, dusting dirt off the leather jacket that his mom grabbed before he put it in.
“This can’t go in the machine,” she said hanging it up.
Then after a quick shower, putting bandages on his cuts and handing the book to his ma he returned to his room. Johnny was sleeping easily and Daniel crawled in next to him, watching the way his chest moved with his breath. He reached out and gently put his hand over Johnny’s chest, feeling his heart beat, satisfied he fell asleep.