Revenge on the Reagans

Chapter 7 Continued

Cracks were made, jokes were told, and laughs were heard. Linda and Frank were trying their best to keep Danny smiling, and trying to use it to mask their pain and concern. Danny lying in that bed was eating them alive on the inside. Danny was always the one that seemed like he was made of armor. Anyone could believe that he was bulletproof. But the last thing they expected to see was him, broken and battered. Looked more like broken glass than a bulletproof shield. His dad knew that Danny was good at putting on a strong front, especially for his family, but he could also see right through that. When it came to Frank Reagan, Danny wasn't all that transparent. He could tell that Danny was in actual pain not just from his injuries, but from the memory. The images from the explosion or what he could remember about it. Something like that isn't forgotten at the blink of an eye. Those images, from the loud bomb to the removal of the debris from his body, they would never leave him. When Frank looked at Danny, and he looked back, he knew that his son was reading him like a book. He knew that Danny could see the true worry in his eyes no matter how many jokes he made. And the concern became crystal clear when Danny started to cough again. When the wave passed, the worry became the elephant in the room.

"I'm fine dad," Danny told him, "really. I am."

"You could've fooled me," he answered.

"Who else is here?" his son asked.

"The whole gang's here," Linda chimed in.

"We never left," Frank said.

"I would've figured," Danny responded, "we did the same when it was you lying here. I didn't sleep a wink the whole night, same as you."

"How'd you figure that?" Frank asked.

"Cause you look like hell," Danny joked.

"Well then I'm guessing you haven't looked in a mirror," they heard and they turned to see Erin, Henry, Nicky, and the boys walk into the room and Jack and Sean ran to their father's side. Danny sat up in his bed as much as he could, trying to hide the fact that his head was spinning from his concussion. It already killed him that his boys had to see him like this. Lying in that hospital bed beaten and battered, knowing exactly how their father attained all those injuries. It killed him. But they didn't need to know how much pain he was in, physically or emotionally. He gave them hugs, and kisses and ran his hand through their hair as they climbed up onto his bed.

"Hey dad," Jack said in a very monotone voice.

"Hey buddy," he said smiling at his son, trying to show his boys that things would be fine. That it was okay to wear a smile because he would be fine.

"How do you feel?" Erin asked.

"Okay I guess," Danny told them, "considering." That left the room silent. He felt his wife lovingly grab his hand and his dad place a caring hand on his shoulder. Just then, he watched his wife look around questioningly and turn back and look at the door. It hadn't been the first time she had done that. There was still one Reagan unaccounted for, and she wasn't the only one getting anxious.