Danny hated warmth. Well, perhaps hate came on a bit strong, but it didn't make it any less true. At best, the heat was annoying. At the worse, it was almost unbearable. Usually, it was borderline nauseating. Danny could wear a short sleeve shirt and in the cold for hours with complete and uncanny comfort. This was why Danny never minded, not even noticing when Jack made the room drop over ten degrees, or even occasionally in the negatives.

The only reason why he always wore long sleeves was to hide the scars. He needed to hide them. From both other people and himself. He needed to pretend that they weren't there. Or that there was a whole side of himself that he didn't even know.

With this in mind, it only irked him further when his own body supplied its own source of warmth.  It was a complete betrayal. Like he was being cheated, almost. His hands sweated, and his heart, which usually pulsed sluggishly, raced in his ribcage.

He resisted every urge to roll up his sleeves or take off the new yet worn neon green jacket.

It must've been a strange sight. Danny, sitting at the end of the bed, fully clothed. Windows opened. Waiting.

Danny sat there for a long, long time. The shadows shifted across the room as the time ticked by, all too slow and yet all too soon.

His skin tingled and all of his senses burned, making his head swirl. The room smelled too stale, the clothes irritated his skin and the dim light poked holes into his skull. And of course, the Warmth. Danny believed that the best word for this would be sensory overload.

Danny's eyes snapped up wide and he bristled as the door opened. Jerry looked the same like he did from last night, it seemed that he just woke up.

Jerry glanced at him and blinked in surprise "err- how long have you been waiting here?"

Danny swallowed. It didn't make a difference, his throat felt as dry, if not dryer than when he clawed himself out of the earth "not long." he lied.

From the look that Jerry was giving him, he didn't quite believe Danny. But let it go "... anyways. Do you want to go down stairs and eat some breakfast?"

Danny didn't feel hungry, but he nodded anyway. "Sure,"

. . .

"Do you remember it, the dream? Or anything else?"

Danny's fork stopped midway above his untouched pancakes that were basked in honey. He slowly put the fork on the table, gently. "No," He wrung his hands under the table "I really don't remember anything."

Danny was going to get kicked out, wasn't he? Judging by the hole in the wall, he probably deserves it.

Jerry both stared at him and through him.

Danny rethought his earlier statement "But I do remember knives." Danny forced himself not to shudder "Knives and green. Lots of it." Too much of it. He also remembered the feeling of horror trapeze down his spine and fear swelling within his bones till he thought they would shatter. But he was going to keep that to himself.

Feelings, gleams of knives and green. That's not much to go off by. Yet he felt like he remembered too much at the same time.

Jerry was the first to change the subject by waving and pointing his fork at Danny "By the way, how on earth did you soundproof your room?"

"oh, I stuffed newspapers and stuff inside the walls." Danny paused "I could remove it if you want."

Jerry stared at him incredulously "How the hell did you-" 

Danny's and Jerry's glaze flickered to the door when the doorbell rang.

Danny turned back at Jerry "You're having people over?"

Jerry looked at Danny and shrugged "It's my Aunt Sara." He looked back at the door "I didn't expect her to come her so early though. I was going to tell you that she was coming later-"

"Sara" banged on the door.

Jerry looked at his attar, waved it off, got up from his chair and went to answer the door.

As the door opened, Danny faintly wondered how on earth they were related. Sara looked more like a deflated frog then a person. Every time she blinked, Danny swore that he could hear the layers of makeup on her eyes make a squishing sound, even though she was down the long hallway and just came in. She lowered her sunglasses to the tip of her tanned nose and analyzed Jerry up and down "... hon, you look like one hot mess."

Jerry looked like he couldn't care less, and frowned.

If Danny squinted, he could see that they both had the same nose. But that's where the resemblance ended.

Sara peered over Jerry's shoulder and glanced at Danny. As soon as she caught sight of him, she lit up. "Oh, hello there!"

Suddenly, she sashayed her way next to Danny. She smelled like leather and perfume. "By the way, do you like tootsie pops?"

Danny stared.

Without waiting for a reply, she placed a red one in his hand "Who am I kidding? Everyone loves tootsie pops!" She had a long Island accent.

Danny looked at the tootsie pop in his hand, then back at Sara "Um... thanks, Sara."

She showed him a wide, warm smile and waved her hand "No problem, don't even mention it. And you can call me Great Aunt Sara." She hesitated "Know what? Great Aunt sounds so old. You could also call me, Graunty Sara! Call me whatever you want, hon."

Danny couldn't hold back a disbelieving look at this flamboyantly eccentric and open woman.

"Ya' don't talk much, do you?" Sara paused "Not that's a bad thing."

Danny found himself warming up to 'Graunty' Sara. "Thanks? I think?"

She grins "ah, he speaks!" she and Jerry then give each other a kind of look that adults have when they want to talk about something that they don't think you should hear. "Um, hon, do you want to go outside for a bit?"

Danny isn't duped, but the fresh air and walk would be more than appreciated. He slide his chair back and stood up. "Sure, I don't mind."

. . .

It was quiet, except for the wind with the occasional bristle of the leaves and branches.

Too quiet.

Danny pulled his knees closer to his chin and stared silently, almost longingly at the hole in the ground, still untouched. Save for the neon yellow police tape.

He hated this place.

He hated how little he knew, he hated the loneliness that gnawed in him, he hated the homesickness that made his stomach turn. And what he hated most, was that he didn't even know why. 

This place did nothing but remind him of that. It flaunted him with answers he couldn't even grasp. The what's, how's and whys that was at the tip of his tongue and buried at the end of his mind. But he couldn't reach it.

He hated this place.

And yet...

Despite it all, this was the only place that he felt comfortable abandoning his jacket. By this ditch in the ground, it was the only place that gave him any sense on where he came from. This was the only spot where he didn't feel the need to hide anything. Maybe it was because this place already knew more about him then he knew himself. 

He felt so confused.

Danny jolted when he heard footsteps.

Jack's warm and pleasantly surprised smile faded when he saw the scars that Danny's arms bared.

With his jacket out of reach, Danny tried to cover his scars by crossing his arms. But even Danny knew that his efforts where in vain. Danny nervously chuckled "I guess there's a lot that we don't know about each other, huh?"

Jack nodded absentmindedly in shock as he sat down pretzel style next to Danny. "No, I guess not." Jack shrugged "But we only knew each other for like what, a week? There's not really much to say or know about a person in that time span." Jack paused "... What's your favorite color?" 

Danny loosened his grip on his own arms in surprise "What?"

"What's your favorite color? I mean, I just realize that I never asked before."

He stared wordlessly at Jack. After a long time Danny's smiled wobbled a bit "Red. I like the color red." He glanced at Jack "I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that your favorite color is blue."

Jack grinned and shook his head "nope, green."

Danny raised his brows in mild surprise "really?"

Jack gave a nod "Yup."

"But- you wear blue, all the time! Every day!"

Jack shrugged "Hey, these are my only set of clothes. Beggars can't be choosers."

Danny snorted. Which grew into a warm laugh and Jack soon joined with him. 

The shadows once again shifted, but Danny didn't care. He didn't even notice. The bulk of their time was spent asking questions back and forth. Just small, mundane questions. Nothing about the scars on Danny's arms, or about why the hole in the ground was covered with claw marks, or what drew Danny to this ditch in the first place. Danny didn't even ask why Jack came to the tree by the lake with that sad, sad look in his eyes.

Nether were ready to give those answers,

and that was ok.

Authors note

I, am so sorry that this took so long. I had a chapter, but then I hated it and trashed it for this one. Like it? Dislike it? (I hope not) Then REVIEW, FAVORITE, OR FOLLOW! Please?