(warning: there's blood in this chapter.)

(also, this is based off of a phanart by loonychild on tumblr-the link is in my profile).

Danny floated through his bedroom window, setting the thermos gingerly on a nearby cluttered surface-it hardly mattered where, he was so tired. And he was definitely going to feel those wounds tomorrow. Scratch that-today. The clock on his bedside table glowed an icy 1:30.

Haha. Icy. Danny managed a faded smirk before deciding that maybe it wasn't funny that an ice ghost had nearly frozen Amity Park and its residents. It probably would have been funnier if the ghost hadn't also sent ice bullets at him that resisted intangibility. Honestly, Danny was lucky to have gotten out alive. Half-alive. Danny shot a glare at the innocent-looking thermos and changed back into his human form. Immediately it felt as though he had been cut up all over again. And, he noticed, he was bleeding on his carpet. Muttering curses in his head that Maddie Fenton would have grounded him for, Danny slipped through the walls and into the bathroom across from his room. He flicked on the light, wincing at the blinding fluorescent bulbs, and stepped into the bathtub so that the blood would at least be easy to clean up.

And there was a lot of blood to be accounted for. The sight and smell was starting to make Danny feel light-headed and like there was a cotton monster crawling down his throat. He peeled off his shirt and pants so he could get a better look at his wounds. The nastiest was a head wound, which accounted for most of the blood, but the bruises on his limbs were pretty bad as well. There were cuts just below his knees and elbows where those ice bullets had gotten him. Wiping the blood out of his face, Danny dazedly walked over to the mirror, hyper-aware that if he made too much noise it could wake someone up.

Without the puffy lip, the blood running down his face almost looked kind of cool. Danny leaned forward and put a hand to the mirror. His own face looked deathly pale. Probably losing too much blood. He leaned down and washed off the head wound with shaking hands. Oh, good it had stopped bleeding and he should probably sit down now.

Danny sank to the floor and put his head between his knees. The room seemed brighter than before, and it felt like his body was having hot and cold flashes at the same time, a sure sign that he was about to pass out. He gritted his teeth, hugging himself, digging his fingers into his arms so that the tips of his nails turned white. He hated fainting. To distract himself, he tried to make a mental checklist.

Don't pass out.

Get some water.

Go to bed.

Don't bleed everywhere.

Clean up the blood.

Go to bed-wait I already put that on the list.

Maybe I'll take a shower.

Yeah. That would help clean the blood off of his body, and then he could bandage himself up and clean up the bloody mess of a bathroom. With any luck, Jazz wouldn't have to use the bathroom for a few hours.

Almost as soon as he'd had that thought, Danny heard a soft knock on the bathroom door. "Danny?" came his sister's sleepy voice. "Y'in there?"

"Yeah," Danny tried to call back, but his throat was too dry. He was in the middle of trying again when the door slowly opened and Jazz appeared in the doorway, eyes half-closed and puffy from sleep. "Yes I'm in here!" Danny finally managed, "get out!"

"Sorry," Jazz muttered, and closed the door. Danny breathed a sigh of relief and was on the verge of standing up when the door flew back open. "Danny!" Jazz gasped, rushing forward. Danny flushed and tried to cover the wounds on his legs, pressing himself back against the wall.

"I'm fine. Go back to sleep, Jazz," he said weakly.

"Like hell I am!" Jazz said fiercely, kneeling in front of her brother. She took his face in her hands. "Open your eyes, I need to check for a concussion."

"Try to keep it down, okay?" Danny said. He sounded like he was on the verge of crying.

"Yep, you've got a concussion," Jazz said a little more quietly. To Danny's surprise, she didn't immediately fire him with questions on how he got the wounds, but instead asked, "What were you going to do, Danny? Pass out and bleed to death without telling anyone?"

"Just a… flesh wound," Danny muttered. His face was deathly pale. "Gonna take a shower, then, uh… bandages?"

"Good idea," Jazz said quietly. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'll start the shower so you can get in, and while you're washing off I'll clean this place up. Any broken bones? Or deep cuts?"

"No, nothing… too deep," Danny said. "Jazz?"

Jazz, who had gotten to her feet, looked down at her somewhat pathetic-looking brother. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem." And, just like he expected her to, she jabbed an accusing finger at him. "But as soon as we have you cleaned up you're telling me everything."