I own nothing!

Chapter 4: Not a Fairy Tale Ending

Danny didn't get out of bed for a long time, until Vlad came upstairs to take him to breakfast. Danny tried to pull away, sharply, evading Vlad's grasp only briefly. It only took that brief moment for Vlad to realize what had happened. He gripped Danny's hand in a steely grip, watching Danny's eyes.

"So. What shall I do with you?" Vlad's voice was slick with oily anger. "I don't want a witness." He suddenly smiled, and reached into his pocket, picking up the same knife he'd used on Calla. It still had stains on it. He kept his grip on Danny's hand, drawing Danny closer, no matter how much he started to struggle and whimper, too terrified by the man's amused, angry red eyes to get away.

Vlad pulled Danny very close, so close he could feel Vlad's breath, before holding his hand up, and inserting the knife into his upper arm. Danny choked, and tears streamed down his face as Vlad drew the knife down his arm a short distance, watching Danny tremble and gasp as the knife cut through layers of skin, deep into Danny's flesh, sending blood pouring out of the massive gash that reached from his shoulder to his elbow.

"I imagine you don't want to tell anyone, do you? I can easily kill you if you do. I suggest silence." Vlad smirked as Danny nodded rapidly, before letting go of his hand. Danny scurried backwards, into a corner, and began crying as soon as Vlad left the room, incapable of doing anything else. He didn't even do anything about the cut, which continued to bleed. Vlad left him to his own devices, even to the point of not bringing him any food, because Danny refused, for a very long time, to venture outside of the double doors of his room.

"Danny, your parents are back. I expect you to behave properly. Remember, say anything and I'll use this on you again." Vlad walked into Danny's room with an amused look at Danny's reaction, cowering in a corner, not breathing, and pulling the covers he'd placed in that corner over his face. He pulled out the knife again, aware that Danny was terrified of it almost as much as he was afraid of Vlad. He walked closer, enjoying the abject terror that forced itself onto Danny's face. Vlad leaned forward, gripping Danny by the arm, and hauling him up. "Come. You need new clothes. You've been wearing the same soiled clothing for a week."

Vlad yanked Danny's arm, pulling him to the drawers where his clothes were kept. Danny didn't protest. He couldn't. He let the man pull the nightgown Danny had never changed off, and pull off his underwear. Danny stood perfectly still. Vlad put a pair of jeans and a shirt, and new underwear, on Danny. "Your father wants to see you. He thinks that you were punished. If he asks, you can say that." Danny didn't twitch. Vlad flashed the red eyes that haunted Danny's dreams now, and he knew that there was no way he would disobey Vlad.

Finally, Danny was ready, and he was pulled into the living room by his used-to-be uncle, Vlad. "Danny-boy! Vladdy says you were being bad." It was the introductory statement for something painful, probably. Danny didn't nod, and didn't stir. He listened as Jack switched from pointing out problems in his behavior to friendly talk with Vlad. Danny sat there, and didn't say anything. In fact, nothing happened to him until he was pulled down the steps and into the Fenton RV.

Suddenly, Jack lashed out, slapping him hard across the cheek. Danny's head turned to the side, and he could feel something pop. The world tilted, and his neck burned. He didn't make a sound, not even when he hit the ground from the force of the blow, head pounding from impact with the metal flooring of the RV. The world was blurry and unfocused around him, and he was helpless against the verbal assault that followed, as Jack yelled at him. "You are a disappointment! Jasmine here could have behaved better, and you go and get my best friend angry. Stupid kid." The words stung a little, but Danny had heard them so many times it didn't bother him so much anymore. He listened.

At least Jack stopped soon, now that they had to be underway. It took a long time, a few hours, to reach home. Danny curled up next to Jazz and fell asleep, a week of almost no sleep finally forcing him into darkness, neck still burning.

Danny didn't eat anything for a long time when they got home. He didn't venture outside. He didn't communicate. It took weeks for Danny to be unafraid of people, and to eat properly again. He flinched for a long time anytime anybody touched him. Nobody missed his chatter except Jazz, who only noticed it for a short time before she accepted it as being simply one of his things. At some point, she almost forgot he had ever spoken. Danny couldn't speak. He barely slept, nightmares constantly preventing him from slumber.

Finally, someone noticed how odd it was, other than his sister. It was when his parents filled out his sheet for attending school and they came to the part of the paper where it asked about problems he might have, disabilities. They put down that he never spoke, and that he rarely communicated, and it was then that they realized something was wrong. They got a speech pathologist, Miranda Sutterly, to work with him, but it did nothing. He didn't tell the pathologist why he couldn't speak.

Miranda said it was clear that Danny was intelligent, and that she couldn't figure out why he didn't speak. Scans showed that nothing was wrong with his vocal chords. He simply refused to speak. His parents didn't know exactly when he stopped, so they couldn't help, either. Jazz was questioned. Nothing came up. He was diagnosed as electively mute, and qualified for special help. However, because he refused to communicate, sometimes even on the most basic of levels, it was impossible to place him in school. He stayed at home, except when he wandered outside sometimes. He went to the library, but few people noticed him. He was provided with audiobooks, which he listened to, and they could only hope he was learning something.

Jazzy was the one who kept Danny from death. She cared for him, far more than his parents. If he needed something, she could somehow see it in his body language. He didn't respond to much, but his sister was someone he almost always was willing to "talk" to. However, no matter what happened, no matter that time passed, he couldn't stop the nightmares. He wished for one thing: to forget what had happened to him, to unsee the splattered red on the floor.

Like it? Hate it? Review it, please! Thanks! There may or may not be a sequel, this was just a random idea that popped into my skull. This, at any rate, is probably the final chapter. Another story that kind-of sort-of involves Danny as a mutant that I wrote is "Blank Slate". I would love if my readers would take a look at that, and tell me if they want a sequel for either this one or that one. I may or may not make it, but it might be fun to attempt. It might not necessarily involve meeting X-men, but it could…Blank Slate isn't in the same universe as this story.

-MiaulinK