A one-part fic, based on spoilers and speculation about Danny and Jake's exit storyline (So if you're unspoiled and want to stay that way don't read, )
It's a little random. Danny's POV, but in second person. (So Danny is the 'you') Scroll down to read, I put a space in because of the possible spoilers.
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Still Life
It’s like burning. It’s like being burnt alive. The air is stretching and humming and burning. The fire hasn’t even got started yet, but already you can feel it all around you. Everything’s red – the walls, and the floor and in front of your eyes all you can see is red red red. And it’s like a rage, until all you can smell is the smoke and the red and the anger.
And maybe it’s the alcohol and maybe it’s the adrenaline but all of a sudden you’re laughing and you can’t move so you just stand with dead matches at your feet, and maybe you can hear a scream from upstairs and maybe you can’t because all around is screaming.
And someone’s pounding on the door and you can hear Jake screaming (screaming!) for you to get out. Like there’s no one else in the house, just you. Just you and the red.
And you realise that Ruby’s still away at school and Johnny’s at the club – so really no else is in the house. And it’s a little scary how you just realised that. How you set a fire without realising that no one would be in the house. How you set a fire thinking there would be someone in the house.
A sixteen year old girl you could have killed without realising. Sixteen years old, wide-eyed and staring, and Scarlet.
You’re pretty sure you locked the front door behind you, otherwise Jake wouldn’t still be pounding on it. He could break it down, you think, easily. One good kick and it’d be down. And you know Jake has the strength to do it, even if no one’s ever seen the strength he has. But you know he won’t, because he’s off his head by now just stood there screaming for you. And you think maybe you can hear him begging, but that can’t be right. That’s not Jake, outside a burning house begging and that’s not you inside a burning house laughing (or is it crying. You really can’t tell.)
And he’s saying sorry now, and why why why is he apologising. He has nothing to say sorry for, and you want to tell him that. That he has nothing to be sorry for, and you’re the one who’s sorry (just like you’re always the one who’s sorry) and you wouldn’t have made it this far without him, and suddenly you need to make sure he knows that, but you can’t. You can’t open your mouth and shout because of the smoke.
You started it in the kitchen, and even sitting in the sitting room with the doors closed you know the fire is outside the door, you know it’s going to come through. The smoke is coming in from under the door and the air is hot, and there’s no rage, you can’t hear Johnny’s voice in your head anymore (stupid, so stupid).
There’s other voices now, shrill and loud and buzzing. And you hope they pull away Jake away from the door that he really should have kicked down by now (you can hear him pushing against and you want to shout ‘try kicking it’ but you don’t.) You hope they pull Jake away, because the house is about to blow and you don’t want him to get hurt.
It’s too late now you think. There’s a buzzing in your ear and smoke in your throat and red in your brain and a burning in your eyes and oh god you hope they pull Jake away from the door.
Um. Yeah. I wasn't drunk when I wrote this. Honest.