Chapter Text
When light leaves the room, it doesn’t vanish all at once.
It lingers in ashes. In breath. In the shape of where someone was.
“…continuing coverage this afternoon of the multi-vehicle accident on the southbound freeway involving a city bus. Authorities confirm the accident occurred shortly after 7 a.m. during peak traffic hours.”
The car hums beneath Daniel’s restless hands like a constant and he hates it for that.
He hates traffic moving like it always does; red lights, green lights, this world of indifference that doesn't pause just because Johnny Lawrence has fallen apart.
He also hates traffic when it isn’t moving like it always does, when busses tilts the wrong way and overturns and dear people get caught beneath them, spawning the darkest nightmare in lives like Johnny Lawrence’s.
“Emergency responders report that several passengers were severely injured and transported to nearby hospitals. Others were treated at the scene. The driver of the bus remains in critical condition.”
He keeps his eyes stuck on the distance of the road, but every time he lets them drift, he sees it.
He sees Johnny on the hospital bed, not sitting so much as folded in on himself. Shoulders caved. Face wrecked in a way Daniel has never seen on him.
(And Daniel has seen many different looks on that man. Mostly variations of pissed, bitter, drunk and defeated, but over the past year, brighter. Full of joy and confidence as he’s finally able to make a real living off something he loves with his whole stupid reckless heart; teaching the style of karate that's completely his own, backed by Daniel's unwavering support - who would have thought. Happy is truly an endearing look on that man.)
Just… broken open.
Crying in shock and confusion like someone who doesn’t fully understand what’s been taken from him. Shivering so hard Daniel thought, for a terrifying second, that something else was wrong. That his body was giving up or something.
“Officials have not yet released the cause of the crash, though early reports suggest poor visibility may have been a factor. Witnesses describe a chaotic scene, with first responders working for hours to extract passengers and clear the roadway.”
And little Laura. So sweet and small against Johnny’s broad chest. Her tiny fist twisted into the fabric of his shirt. Only eight months, about to learn what full-blown grief looks like.
And Johnny’s voice, hoarse and wrecked: "Everything’s going to be okay, sweetheart, I promise." Kissing the top of her head over and over, like the motion itself was the only thing anchoring him. Pressing his mouth into her soft curly hair, breathing her in, whispering to her like she could somehow understand. “I’ve got you,” voice cracking clean, “I’ve got you, baby.”
“Families of those involved are urged to contact local authorities for updates. Names of the injured have not been released pending notification.”
Daniel turns onto his street, and the houses blur past, familiar and just wrong. His home waits at the end, lights off and quiet. Amanda isn’t there. But Daniel doesn’t have the energy to think about that right now.
He parks, cuts the engine and the radio dies with it. He just sits and breathes, pressing his forehead to the steering wheel. He stays like that for a while.
The way Johnny had looked up at him. Unguarded, eyes red and skin blotchy, tears tracking down his face. Just naked terror and loss.
“I can't,” he had whispered, so quietly Daniel almost missed it. “She needs her mom.”
Inside the house, Daniel moves on autopilot. He opens drawers. Pulls out clothes, soft practical ones that don’t wrinkle or need ironing or thinking. He grabs toiletries, tossing them into a bag without checking brands. Johnny won’t care. Johnny doesn’t care about anything except the daughter in his arms and the space at his side that will never be filled again. Oh Johnny…
He opens the fridge and stares into it. Something easy. Something that can be eaten with one hand. He packs containers, fruit, bottles. He doesn’t know if Johnny has eaten since the hospital. Probably not.
Everything’s going to be okay.
Johnny will take care of little Laura – there’s no doubt that he will. He’s no longer the irresponsible excuse for a father he was when Robby was growing up. But the question that doesn’t leave Daniel’s mind is – who the fuck is going to take care of him?
Daniel is.
Daniel zips the bag and leans against the counter, closing his eyes for just a second. He can’t make it okay. He knows that. He can’t bring Carmen back. He can’t take the pain out of Johnny’s chest or stop the way it’ll keep leaking out of him. He can’t rewrite this moment into something other than it is.
But he can show up. Johnny Lawrence shouldn’t be alone, not in such a vulnerable state. And if being there—bags in hand and words that will always be insufficient but at least better than nothing—is all Daniel can offer, then it will have to be enough.