Last Rites
"I'm sorry, Steve, there's still no change."
Those grim words delivered with downcast eyes were almost a whisper. An interval of silence followed as the news sank in. One could almost feel the last shred of hope vacate the room. The old county coroner knew that his words had stabbed the head of Five-O in the heart.
"But there's still a chance, isn't there, Doc? Maybe with more time?"
McGarrett was now grasping at straws, his eyes fixed on the door of the intensive care unit of Queen's Hospital. Instantly, he felt a firm hand grip his shoulder, a gesture of compassion from his old friend.
"Steve, it's been over three months. I've explained this before: the longer a patient is comatose…" Bergman paused to rein in his own rising emotions, "…the smaller the chance of survival. That's just the fact of it, unfortunately."
McGarrett swallowed hard. How could this have happened? He'd been over it in his head what seemed like a million times. He cast a glance in the direction of the officers seated with him.
"But what if you found a donor? Maybe someone new could come forward."
"That's possible, but the more time that passes…well, just don't get your hopes up." Bergman shoved his hands in the pockets of his white lab coat. What could he say? It seemed that the conversation was the same every time he saw these men in the waiting room of the ICU. "Steve, there's no point in staying here. You need your rest," the crusty physician advised. "You all do," he added, eyeing each detective in turn.
Kono spoke first. "I'll head back to da palace, Boss; hold down da fort. You call if…anything happens, Doc?"
"Of course," Bergman replied.
After one last look toward the closed door, the large Hawaiian left.
"Chin, you've been here long enough. Go home to your family," Steve ordered.
The Chinese detective simply nodded and stood, wincing as his old knees bore his full weight after sitting for so long. "I'll see you in the morning, Steve."
"My next shift starts in ten minutes," Duke Lukela remarked after checking his watch. "You know where to find me, if you need anything."
"Mahalo, Duke," Steve said with a weary smile before the silver haired Hawaiian departed.
Throughout the past three months, McGarrett had realized anew how grateful he was for the support of everyone on his team and many more over at HPD. Too bad that it takes something like this…
"Go home, Steve," Bergman urged again, interrupting the thoughts of the weary cop.
"I promise I'll go home soon, Doc. I just want to sit here a while longer."
"Okay," Bergman agreed. He had been involved in this case from the beginning and well understood what the emotional strain was doing to all of Five-O. "I'm heading out before my wife alerts the National Guard. The nursing staff will call if I'm needed."
"Good night, Doc and…thanks."
The corridor fell quiet once again with only the background sounds of medical equipment and the occasional footsteps of nurses and orderlies. Steve took a deep breath and refocused his thoughts. Has it really been three months? I just can't give up; it can't be over… The idea of accepting the loss was far too painful. The dark haired detective closed his eyes to plead with the Almighty.
He didn't hear the sound of approaching footsteps. A hand on his shoulder and a familiar voice brought him back to the present. "Steve, are you okay?" He looked up into the clear blue eyes of his second in command. The officer's olive green business suit bore a few wrinkles and his dark tie hung loosely from the collar of his dress shirt.
"Danno…yeah, I'm okay. When did you get back?"
"My plane landed fifteen minutes ago. Jenny told me you were here. Has there been any change? Has Doc told you anything new?" The young detective tried to steady his voice. This situation was just too emotionally charged.
"No. No change at all and Doc doesn't offer much of any hope."
Williams sat down beside his boss, released a heavy sigh and nervously ran a hand through his sandy curls. "It's been three months, Steve, and nothing!" he said, his volume rising with his frustration.
"Easy, Danno."
"But you would think that someone could have donated in all that time."
"Yes, you would," the head of Five-O agreed calmly.
"I can't stand all this waiting, Steve!" Williams was on his feet again and pacing in front of his boss.
Steve's mood turned nostalgic. "Remember how it used to be?"
Dan stopped short then returned to his seat. "Yeah, I sure do. There were so many great stories that sent us on all kinds of adventures. And readers following every chapter, leaving reviews, sometimes filled with praise, sometimes making good suggestions…"
"I really enjoyed those days," agreed Steve sadly. "Now the fandom is lying in that room over there, hooked up to God knows what kind of equipment, fighting for its life. Doc says that we should just make our peace with it and accept what has happened."
"Doc just wants to retire!" Danny countered sarcastically.
"You could be right."
"What if…" Williams started thinking out loud, "what if they held another writing challenge?"
"That's a good idea, Danno. You know, it's coming up on our fiftieth anniversary this fall!"
"Fifty years! Has it really been fifty years? Steve, you don't look that old!" Dan commented, almost cracking a smile.
"Neither do you, Danno." McGarrett had always marveled at Williams' perpetually youthful countenance.
"Do you think they still care about us? The writers? And the readers?" Dan searched his friend's face for some sign that it wasn't completely over.
"Time will tell, Danno, time will tell."
Pau
A.N. – Yes, I'm also guilty. I haven't posted anything substantial in a long time. Real life gets in the way. But I hope that there are some out there who will still write and post for Hawaii Five-O. Best wishes to all of you in your real lives!