Very few people bothered with Daniel. It was easier that way. If someone spoke with him, tried to bring up conversation, it would end in one of three ways: either he’d speak to you calmly and sporadically with little emotion, go off and curse you for even breathing his same air, or he’d end up not responding at all. Or, in the case of those who tried to stick around longer than a passing mention on the weather, a collection of all three.

When he isn’t spoken to, he will sit, or stand, or pace and stare at the comforting and unchanging white walls. He can literally stare at the same spot for hours, his mind doing whatever it is that it is doing. Sometimes it’s racing, and his eyes are wide and his hands moving to keep up with the thoughts he has invoked. Sometimes he will obsessive with something, counting random things, such as how many times he has blinked or keeping a symmetrical beat with each foot on the floor. Once he got up to nine thousand eight hundred and seventy three. Not that he recalls it, or would be particularly proud of it if he did remember.

Staring at the meal tray in front of him, Daniel counted rhythmically in his head, his lips pursed and a slight frown on his features as he moved his lips one way and then the other, counting quickly in his head. Once he reached a solid hundred, he’d start over again. A worker nearby encouraged him to try and eat and he lost track of where he was. Irritated, his eyes darted to the man. “Filthy…” The mutterings tuned out to go unnoticed under his breath as his air left his lungs, slightly deflated as he hunched forward to his tray.

Picking up the spoon, he wondered in a brief moment of clarity how they expected him to eat the rubbery chicken with a dull spoon without resorting to cave man tactics. Then it went away as he tried to get a little bit off, finally settling for holding on to the chicken with one hand and spearing and tearing with the spoon edge. He finally got it apart and took a bite, satisfied that he’d at least accomplished that.

Fixing his white robes that felt like permanent pajamas, Daniel tugged the collar slightly to the side. Sometimes he was helped into normal clothes, though it was mostly when his father let the staff know his mum was coming in. She couldn't seem to handle his state of things. He wiped his mouth off with his napkin before sitting up straight and sipping his water. His eyes landed on someone nearby, unfocused, as words started to spill out, his spoon scooping up some peas. “I was asked personally to deliver the package. I was told it was in the service of the Dark Lord, and I should be the proudest…” His mind wandered as a couple of peas spilled off the spoon onto the plate, the utensil half way to his mouth. “My mum was very proud of me, I think. My da’ too. For becoming an Auror.”

Quincy had just finished a long shift on the creature-induced injuries ward. It hadn't been a particularly busy today; apparently today was not the day that people decided to be reckless and go play with dragons and the like. She made her way into the changing rooms and pulled a hooded sweatshirt over her uniform, taking her hair out of its bobble and combing it through with her finger. She sighed as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. There were dark shadows under her eyes after a few sleepless nights. Lately she had been feeling a little...strange. Something was not right, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was a feeling she had felt before, but wasn't entirely sure what was the cause of it.

She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, before scooping her hair back up into the bobble and slinging her bag over her shoulder. She came out of the changing rooms and walked down the corridor to the stairs. Ascending stairs would normally have been a relatively easy thing for her to do, but after such a long, tiring day, those two flights of stairs seemed like the world's largest mountains, and she was puffing and panting by the time she reached the fourth floor. She paused for a few moments against the wall, catching her breath back before walking along the corridor and stopping at a familiar room.

“My mum was very proud of me, I think. My da’ too. For becoming an Auror.”

Quincy smiled softly as she made her way into the room. "We all were, Dan. Eddie, too." She pointed out gently, pulling a chair up next to where he was sat with his meal tray. She sat on the edge of the chair and put her bag on the floor. "Sorry I've disturbed you while you're eating." She said nodding at the peas which were threatening to bounce off the tray and onto the floor.

Daniel felt a bit defeated after his statement. What had he become? Someone to sit here, not eating their peas, in some comfortably white and empty part of some hospital with white pajamas to keep him comfortable and unlikely to hurt himself. Why white? It could have been blue… Or red. Though he was sure red would cause some of the fellow patients to go a little insane. At least blue would go interestingly against the white walls. He held his spoon and slowly turned it over and over, the peas an afterthought by now.

“We all were, Dan. Eddie, too.”

Jumping slightly, his blank face turned into one of anger, his head spinning around in the direction of the voice. Hardly anyone responded to him, unless it was a worker or… the odd occasion he had a visitor. When he saw her face, though, he lowered his spoon and pursed his lips. She was familiar… Eddie. He knew that name. Trying to grasp for it, his thoughts had been scattered to all the recesses of his mind when she spoke. His  muscles relaxed as she sat down next to him and he pushed his lips, still pursed, to the side as he watched her.

“Sorry I’ve disturbed you while you’re eating.”

Blinking at that, he frowned in confusion. Then he looked down at what he was holding, surprised it was a spoon. Seeing the peas, he made a face and set the spoon on top of them. There, he won the pea war. A small upward curve of one edge of his lips came before it passed. What was she saying? Turning his attention back to her, he focused on her. “Quincy.” He had moments of clarity, and they came more frequently than they used to. The first year after the incident that had locked him in the unit had been the worst, though he would more than likely never know that.

After a brief moment of staring at her, he leaned over towards her and lifted her pant legs up, staring momentarily before sitting back up, satisfied. “Did you bring the socks?” One could tell a lot about a person by the socks they wore, the condition they were in, whether they matched or not, whether they went with an outfit. He liked different socks; he liked them as long as they matched and had certain colors to them. Come to think of it, he could never wear yellow robes. It would cause him a little anxiety on top of a Danny sized temper tantrum.

She didn't like to lose contact with his eyes. In her opinion, if he watched her eyes long enough, and could see that she was warm and friendly - a friend - then somewhere in the depth of his secluded mind he may remember who she was. It was getting quicker and quicker - with every visit she made, it took less time for him to actually remember who she was.

He put the spoon down on the plate and looked quite satisfied with himself, before focussing on her again. “Quincy.” Her mouth curled up into a genuinely happy smile. "Yes." She breathed with relief. This was record timing. Normally it would have taken at least fifteen minutes, usually closer to half an hour before he had any inklinkg of who she was and what she was doing there. But five minutes? She was extremely impressed.

He leaned over and lifted up her trouser leg. Normally, something like this would shock her, but this was a ritual. He seemed to have a thing about socks, and liked to check what socks everyone who came into contact with him wore. Hence, her socks had been very carefully chosen today. Green stripy socks.

“Did you bring the socks?”

She grinned as she pulled a brown paper bag from her own bag. She dipped her hand into the bag, and pulled out a pair of socks - green stripy socks - in a gentleman's size and offered them to him. "The very ones you asked for." She pulled her trouser leg up herself. "And we match." She grinned at him. "Oh!" she exclaimed as she dove back into her bag and pulled out another brown paper bag, holding it out to Dan. "And I almost forgot - oatmeal raisin biscuits. I got three - I thought we could both have one now, and then you can have another one later today, or tomorrow?"

“Yes.”

She seemed pleased about something. His brows furrowed in slight confusion, not quite understanding, though he didn’t question. He wasn’t generally curious enough to dig deeper. It didn’t involve him directly, so what was it going to help? His brain, that rigid box of emotions and uncertainties, didn’t like to deal with possibilities outside what he knew. Other people’s business tended to stay that way, or he blew up. Had a tantrum, flew off the handle, had to have some quiet time. It happened more often than one might think as well.

“The very ones you asked for.”

Well, why would she bring something he didn’t ask for? Pursing his lips slightly, he accepted the socks, staring at them as he turned them over, admiring them. He also looked for any problems; loose string, a weak area that would easily wear into a hole, uneven stripes. When everything seemed in order, he glanced to her raised trouser and nodded slowly. Resting them on his thigh, he rubbed his head.

“Oh!”

Most who spent any amount of time around Dan were careful to not make loud noise or movement. Jumping noticeably, his face turned and he snarled, gripping the napkin in his hands tightly, perhaps considering it to be his make believe wand, about to hex the startled young witch. At the very least, he could whip her on the head with it; that would hurt.

Then he saw the brown paper bag, and uncertainty passed over his features, his snarl falling slightly. The possibilities that could be in the bag outweighed his sudden anger at being caught off guard. His brain slowly worked off the sudden intrusion, that feeling of clouded misjudgment that he couldn’t control. His hand unclenched around the napkin as his eyes focused.

“And I almost forgot – oatmeal raisin biscuits. I got three – I thought we could both have one now, and then you can have another one later today, or tomorrow?”

Then his anger melted away and he reached out, accepting the bag. Oatmeal raisin… that was his favorite. Opening the bag, Daniel looked inside for a few moments, making sure they were really there. Then he pulled one out and offered it to her before taking out another one, holding it for the time being. After making sure his socks were protected and the third biscuit was carefully set on top of them, he took a bite of his and enjoyed it.

Sometimes he wished he could explain his thoughts; during therapy, he never felt like he got anywhere. Or at least the part of him that was Danny. The other part(s) didn’t care one way or another. After so long held in, the part that used to be him got more time out of the box. Enjoying the simple pleasure of a favorite treat, Daniel finally responded. “Thank you.” He hadn’t said that in recent years, unless it was sarcastically. Either he forgot he had something to be thankful for, or he was too in between his personalities to respond appropriately. Watching Quincy, he tried to grasp for information. She looked older… When did time pass him by? “Where’s Ed?” He vaguely remembered a letter… but he didn’t recall seeing his little brother in so long.

She should have known by now that loud, sudden noises startled Dan, and he had a tendency to react badly to them. So it hardly surprised her that he snarled at her and grasped the napkin so tightly it looked as though his knuckles were going to burst through the pale skin on his hand when she made an exclamation.

She stayed quiet as he took the bag off her and peered into the contents, a little more relaxed now that she was offering him one of his favourite treats. Without her even having to ask him, he took one of the biscuits from the bag and offered it to her. She smiled as she reached out and took the biscuit from him. "Thank you." He took his own out of the bag, and placed the spare biscuit in the bag on top of his new socks. things seemed to be going pretty well, and Quincy almost grinned as he took a bite of his biscuit. She allowed herself to nibble on her own, now that he had started eating his.

“Thank you.”

She blinked. That certainly caught her offguard. In all the years she had been coming to visit Dan, she had never heard him be thankful for anything. Not when the nurses came to deliver his food, or when his parents brought him socks, or when his brother bothered his arse to even visit. "Your...welcome." She responded, trying to sound as natural as possible but failing miserably. It almost brought a tear to her eye, like the first time her children spoke or performed magic. She looked down at her biscuit and watched some crumbs fall into her lap, a small smile on her lips.

“Where’s Ed?"

She looked up again, her eyes full of warmth. Dan never normally talked about Eddie. Quincy tried to fit him into conversations as much as possible, afraid that soon Dan was going to forget who his brother was completely. He had never actually mentioned Eddie of his own accord, without being coaxed into it. "He's at work." She said gently. "He wants to come and visit you." She smiled reassuringly. "He misses you."

Quincy had the sudden urge to take hold of Dan. She was sure that he hadn't felt the warm touch of a friend in so long - the prying, professional, cold hands of the doctors were nothing compared to the touch of someone who actually cared. She didn't want to startle him again - this was going to have to be a completely conscious decision on his behalf. Slowly she extended her hand out over her knee towards him and stretched her hand out, palm facing upwards.

By the time Quincy said welcome, he was focused on something else. The biscuit in his hands was an unexpected light in the darkness of his personal hell. It gave him something to at least focus on, something he enjoyed the taste of, something that brought back memories of easier times. A fleeting, brief glimpse of a past with promise swam through his muddled mind, of his mum offering him a biscuit for doing his chores, another time that he raided the cookie jar with little Eddie and shared the contents until they were both sick to their stomach.

A brief, unheard of smile graced his lips as he took another bite, then his mind slowly drifted away from the buoy of safety. What once was did not come out to be what is. He paused with the half eaten biscuit, staring down at it as if it were to blame for his sudden predicament. He frowned and felt his anger starting to build up. He needed something to keep him calm. Needed something to focus on. Luckily he had Quincy. Perhaps not very lucky for her, though.

“He’s at work.”

Work… Daniel frowned in concentration. He was an Auror… Or should be, by that point. A sudden yank on his chest caused Daniel to grimace and he nodded slowly. Dan had dreamed of becoming an Auror… Eddie had only done it as a last resort, and now look who had work. It wasn’t Ed’s fault, of course; he hadn’t orchestrated the attack, nor was he to be blamed for persuing a career he could use to support his family. But Daniel was jealous, and he felt the green dragon grab hold around his heart, coiling in his chest.

“He wants to come and visit you… He misses you.”

His eyes narrowed at that. Edward didn’t want to visit him. He had the letters to prove it! He felt as if he couldn’t breathe in deep enough. Seeing the hand stretched out towards him, what was left of him, that bit of Dan that was being pushed aside rather roughly forced his body back on the bench away from her. He gripped what was left of his biscuit without realizing it, spraying himself with crumbs as he gripped the table.

His face contorted slightly from his narrow eyes to a grimace of pain and back to anger. “No he doesn’t.” Or if he did, he missed what used to be Dan. He certainly didn’t give two knuts about his brother now. His teeth clenched and he reached out for his tray, the peas and spoon long forgotten as he lifted it up off the table, letting out a yell as he threw it as hard as he could to the side, hearing the satisfying crash as it hit the wall. His mind went numb, empty; this was something he could deal with, that empty void where nothing could touch him, no memories or thoughts could pull on his memories.

There was the faint flicker of a smile across his torn face - something that Quincy hadn't seen since he had been in the hospital. Then it changed to a grimace and anger. His mood changed so often it was hard to keep up, to keep an image of normality even though what was going on was far from normal. She had to try and focus herself, and not allow her mood to change with his. He needed stability, and that was what she would give him.

“No he doesn’t.”

So she hadn't fooled him. Stupid, really. Just because he was in the permanent spell damage ward did not mean he was completely away with the pixies. She looked down at her hands in an almost apologetic way. Then it all happened so quickly. He moved backwards on his bench as though he was trying to get away from a boggart. His expression was one of fury and horror as the biscuit crumbled in his hands. Quincy's eyes widened as with a loud shout of rage he grabbed one side of the table and threw it across the side of the room. She flinched, cowered almost, into the wall that she was seated against.

No sooner had it happened, three members of staff were grappling with Dan, three wands pointed at his neck an snarls of threats. Quincy's blood boiled aand she shot to his side. "Get off him! Do you think that helps!?" She felt herself shaking with anger at the men. They looked confused at each other, at Quincy and at Dan. "I said," She snarled through her teeth. "Get. Off. Him." She narrowed her eyes at them. "Now."

He slipped back into the comfortable void, the part of his brain that promised him that everything would be just fine. All he needed to do was give in… it would help, it would take over, it could make sure everything was just fine. As confused as he was, Daniel was used to that soothing, condescending thought in his head. It was the same feeling of talking in your head, knowing the words were there and hearing them, but knowing they weren’t his. That was what a ‘voice in your head’ was.

At least in Daniel’s. There was the subtle change in his facial expression, that harder glint in the eye, the slowly forming grimace. He’d been doing great lately, able to stay away from the darkness and hold on to the front. But this was too much for Daniel to handle right then. It was too easy to back off and let something else deal with it. So much for doing better.

His dulled brain enjoyed the satisfying noise of the tray flying into the wall; it felt powerful to grip something so tangible and destroy it with his own hands. What else could he do with them? He felt an exhilarating rush through him as he looked up, a hint of madness in his eyes. He felt his muscles tense as he moved to run forward, but then he felt himself picked up and slammed down. He fought against them but went oddly still as he felt the wands at his neck. He snarled back at them, his body tense.

“Get off him! Do you think that helps!?”

Now he was confused. Someone was… sticking up for him? The Daniel in him glanced out from the darkness, blinking in uncertainty as he looked around, turning his head slightly as he saw a familiar looking woman. She was pretty. Then he looked to the ones holding the wands, that look of confusion spreading from one to the other. Someone’s knee was digging into his thigh as well…

“I said… Get. Off. Him… now.”

His eyebrows rose at that, watching the woman. Finally he felt the pressure in his thigh lift, and someone roughly grabbed him by the front of his shirt, helping him to his feet. Straightening his shirt, he licked his lips and looked from the three still tense security guards to the woman next to him. Then it clicked, and his breathing picked up. Quincy! Quincy was here! His eyes lit up and he leaned forward, hugging her awkwardly. The guards jumped forward, but held back slightly, making sure the visitor was safe.

He pulled back rather quickly, taking a step back (and running into a guard). Making a face, he went to the side. “Quincy… Here.” Taking her hand without a second thought, he started to tug her back to the rooms. A guard let out a grunt and, after glancing back at the others, followed after the two. Once he was at his bedroom, he let go of her hand and stepped in to the spotless room. He had the pictures his dad had brought set up, photos of his nieces and nephews that he didn’t know the names of, family grown older than the man remembered.

A guard caught up with the other, handing the bag Daniel had received over to Quincy. Then he stepped back and left, allowing the one guard outside the room to keep an eye over the situation.