#Medical: SO DON'T FREAK OUT MKAY PLEASE MS WONDERFUL WOMAN

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREEis here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here and this is part twelve.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... ??? ???? ...Itchy?? 👀

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

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…Danny still hates the container.

But really. This was how it was going to end all along.

He doesn’t like the container. But he mostly understands that it has a job and that job is to make the air inside this giant space ship more Air-Like so that his human lungs can absorb more air. He gets it. Even if the alien had to come back and explain it to him twice so that his brain could hold onto the information. Danny understands the container.

He just…

Danny is ill-formed and shallowly built and more a whisper than a body right now, because of. Because. Because of what they did.

And it hurt. What happened hurts now. It had hurt so badly. When Danny’s not real, it doesn’t hurt. His legs don’t hurt because they’re not real. His head doesn’t hurt because it’s not there. His belly doesn’t hurt because it’s imaginary. He’s not real. The pain can’t be real because he isn’t there to feel it.

…But if he ever wants to be real again….

The container looms.

…If Danny ever wants to be real again. This won’t be enough. Being a shadow of an idea of a dead teenager isn’t enough. If Danny is going to be real, to heal, this isn’t enough.

And he knows it isn’t. The burning proves it.

Danny runs his fingers around the rubber gasket of the container. Is it worth it? To face what happened to him? To understand how badly he was hurt? To remember the truth?

It doesn’t seem like it is. Danny wants to go back to his cot. He wants to hide under the thin sheet. He wants to make the room dark and hide in the corners and never be a person again.

But if Jazz was here…

If Jazz was here. She would want him to heal.

Danny doesn’t want to heal. He just wants to be better already. But Jazz would want him to heal. And Tucker. And Sam. And the ghosts who cheered him on, who fought for Danny until the last second.

Danny never sought death, but sometimes the green door pops into his visions in the dark of his bedroom and tries to coax him home.

…Danny clutches his rocket toy tight. He edges his way in.

The door of the chamber slams shut behind him.

It’s dark in here. Not too dark. Not completely. Just. Dark.

Danny takes a deep breath. He tries not to cry. He lays down on the bed in the container, and—

There’s a flush of light as his body tries to form. He’s not going to cry. He—

More light.

More pain.

More—

The memory of taking a blast straight to the face slams into Danny like cannonball.

And then he’s gone.

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“The patient, he— …in the hyperbaric chamber?! On his own?! How—“

“Showing symptoms of—vitals dropping—he—“

“—the—“

“—is on and on max capacity, we can’t go in and risk—“

“—fragile state—“

“Wait. Is that—“

“—Oh, Jesus fucking Christ—“

“…It’s moving.”