His first unpleasant surprise was his hands. That after finally giving them a proper wash in the marble sink, his hands felt ruff and damaged with the scratches and nicks, even to him. he could see callus on his knuckles with scrapes deeper than what he would've liked. They looked as if they've never had a chance to heal. That they were always in use, in need. As his hands curved into fists he never realized how unsettling natural the motion was.

Danny let out a low whistle when he finally peeled off his jacket. Under it, all he had was what used to be a white undershirt. But even with that on, he could see scars layered on his arms, neck, and shoulders. Some were shaped like electric burns, others were like bite marks. Oh god, there were so many scars. Some of them looked like he was hit with something akin to a whip, others looked like he was slashed with a knife, or grazed with bullets. Some Danny could've sworn that they were one or two claw marks thrown in the mix. In deepness, the scars varied. Some were only a lingering line while others took about an inch off his skin, as if he barely escaped with that limb attached.

He looked away from the mirror and stumbled a couple of steps back, eyes wide in the steam filled room. His breaths began to quicken as his hands clanged to what was left of the worn undershirt. He could feel his heartbeat racing on his fingers as his mind swirled.

For the first time, he almost didn't want to know who he was. He didn't want to know who or what made those scars. And he really didn't want to know who taught him, what forced him to curl his fists like second nature, to so easily, too easily, drop into a fighting stance.

Almost.

While a piece of him want to tuck away this new discovery in the back folds of his mind, to reframe from asking anymore questions or to uncover what could be disturbing answers. Another part of him had a new desperation to find the truth.

Danny entertained the idea of showering with the rest of his clothes on. To not find out what was the rest of his gruesome collection of scars looked like. To not worry or think about anything except the sound of water droplets drumming the shower floor, the taste and comfort of clean water soothing his painfully dry, cracked throat and the smell of moist warm water washing away his earthy scent. 

But these morbid souvenirs, these scars held clues. Already they told him one thing. One very important thing.

He was a fighter.

That despite what was done to him, whatever it was, that no matter what tragedy he endured. For whatever reason, he stood his ground. That instead of lying down, he learned to fight.

Danny took a deep breath, then braced himself.

And fighters don't take showers with their clothes on.

. . .

Dr. Bennett was the one that who finally asked the unspoken question. "Ok, what are we going to do with Danny?"

The coffee scented room, nearly strong enough to taste it, deafened with silence. The two social workers along with Jerry and Jossey glanced at each other.

A woman in her early forties, with a curly mess of greying red locks in a bun was the first to speak. "Right now, we don't have room in the nearby foster home but-"

Jossey shook her head "We are not, putting him in a foster home."

The other social worker stepped in, she had smooth purple tented glasses with blond hair whom seemed to be in her late thirties "Then where do you suggest we put him? We just found this teen yesterday."

The woman gently pushed up her glasses to the bridge of her pale freckled spotted nose. "Dr. Bennett, I understand your request is tied in with your own history of being in the foster system. But the child has no-where to go and only just recently became a case. Unless someone takes him in until we can make him some room, the only other way is to put him back on the streets. Which is not an option." When the woman said this, she sounded tired almost pleading and yet determined. The dark bags under her eyes hinted that Jerry and Jossey weren't the only one that pondered over Danny's unusual predicament.

Jossey, however, squared her shoulders "I'll take Danny then-"

Jerry stared at her with a confounded look "Jossey, with all due respect. That's a terrible idea." He took a deep breath "Look, no one in here knows anything about Danny, we don't know what he needs or even what kind of person he is. Right now, you're a single parent trying to raise two young children while juggling a full-time job."

Jossey looked just as bewildered then Jerry did earlier from those words then settled her expression to a light frown "Look, Jerry, I'll figure something out. I'll take care of him until Mrs. Gilchrist and Mrs. Beim can figure out a more permanent home for him."

Jerry shook his head "It's not you I'm worried about. Like we said, we don't know anything about Danny. What if he has ptsd?"

Jossey's protests died in her throat.

Jerry added "What if Danny can't be around other kids yet? For at least a month he had little to no contact to anyone, then suddenly he must share a house with two younger children and an adult? How is Danny going to react to that?"

Mrs. Gilchrist pushed up her glasses as she turned to Mrs. Beim, it looked like they didn't consider these possibilities yet ether.

Jerry crossed his arms, he could feel the Goosebumps starting to rise because of the cold sweeping in the small grey office room "And true, Danny's going to have to eventually deal with other people at some point. He needs to catch up on school work, if we can even consider school a possibility at this point. So, there's the fact that we don't know what to expect from Danny in even a public setting. And after all that, you expect him to ease unto a household of three? As great kids Sophie and Jamie are, I don't think they're going to be able to fully understand that, especially since us "adults" are just as lost on what to do as well."

The room once again silenced.

Jerry looked back to Jossey. He knew she wasn't going to give up. Knowing her since collage gave him a good idea on what she was going to do next. If no one else was going to take the Danny, then she will. And despite her protests, open heart and strong will. She won't be able to give Danny the best care and attention that he's going to need to get through this. Jerry pinched the bridge of his nose, he was really going to do this. Wasn't he? "... I'll take him."

"I'll take Danny."