DISCLAIMER: I, ShakespeareIsMyMuse, do so solemnly swear that I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any of its affiliates, which includes: any familiar story plots, creation of original characters belonging to the show, cast and crew. Rights, property and ownership belong rightfully and wholly to CBS and its Original Creator: Leonard Freeman (1920-1974), also to reboot creators: Peter M. Lenkov, Alex Kurtzman, and Roberto Orci.
I, ShakespeareIsMyMuse, do however claim ownership of any unrecognizable characters and the formation of plot(s) that follows. Any invention or similarity of any character or plot line that is seen here after represented really or fictitiously, alive or dead, is purely coincidental and unintentional.
*Exhales* I hope that about covers everything. *Cracks Neck* Now, on with the story.
Enjoy.
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WARNING: The following story mentions Mature Themes
Adultery
Alcohol
Blood
Death/Suicide
Minor Physical Violence
Summary:
Danny tells Steve the story of why he married Rachel and why she divorced him.
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"Sometimes in our lives
We all have pain, we all have sorrow
[…]
Lean on me when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on"
– Bill Whiters; 'Lean On Me'
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Give Me Your Pain
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Upon returning to Oahu from gathering Intel off the Big Island, Lieutenant Chin Ho Kelly and Officer Kono Kalakaua were flooded—from almost every direction—with word of what had happened and hurried off to the hospital. They were directed to the waiting room of O.R. Four. Reaching the double doors that separated the room from the main hallway, Chin slowed his pace and he motioned for Kono to do the same when he took notice of the brown smeared splatter that covered the door's window.
Easing open the door, Chin's anxious face dropped and Kono's eyes filled with tears as she pressed a hand to her mouth. The sight of disarray before them told both cousins all they needed to know; even before they met the pain filled eyes of Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett who shook his head as he sat on the floor of the waiting room and soothed and rocked what was left of the broken, sobbing man in his arms...
20 Minutes Earlier:
"Here," Steve held out a paper cup with rising steam.
Detective Danny Williams barely peered into the cup, before looking up at his partner and asking, "Coffee?"
"Yeah."
"No, thanks; I don't want it."
"Come on, Danny, you're freezing."
"No, I'm not."
"The raised skin and bluish tint to your arms is telling me different. I know hospital coffee is disgusting. You don't have to drink it, just hold it. Okay?"
The blonde man reluctantly took the cup and held it between his hands. "I hate coffee."
"Since when, I see you drink the stuff all the time."
"Since right now— it reminds me of my marriage; of Rachel. It was the beginning of our whole relationship…and now…"
Steve reached out and rubbed the sullen man's shoulder. He knew what the 'and now' meant, it meant that 'and now it might be over, really over this time, as in permanent'. Steve had met Danny almost right after his divorce and he had seen what that had done to him. How long it had finally taken Danny to accept that his marriage was really over—even after their brief tryst, when he thought that they could maybe have a do over or even pick up where they let off—and start to move on.
Rachel's pregnancy with Charlie had changed everything, because Charlie didn't belong to Danny, he belonged to her new husband, Stan. Charlie had sealed Rachel's new life with Stan, especially when she had chosen to stay for the baby's sake. And now, the postpartum depression had been much worse than anyone had realized.
Rachel had tried to take her own life, with the very gun Danny had given her years ago—for protection, just in case he couldn't be there. And now after everything that has happened, Stan is halfway around the world, on business and Danny was here, sitting in the hospital waiting room, waiting for news on his ex-wife's condition; the mother of his child, the woman that he sometimes hated and every so often, still pined for.
Steve knew it was tearing Danny up on the inside. So he tried anything he could think of to distract his friend from the pain. Anger usually works well for that; albeit temporary.
"How many times do I have to tell you? Coffee is not a relationship, Danny. It's a beverage," Steve said dismissively.
That did it; Danny flared and the pain was—momentarily—gone. "That's not true. That is not true. Every single relationship starts with a cup of coffee. You follow up with a few dinners and a couple of movies. Then you wake up married –happy—living in a very nice two bedroom corner lot, with a neatly manicured lawn and four foot hedges fencing your property so your— learning -to -walk toddler doesn't run out into the street to end up underneath a car and a nice long distance view of the New York City skyline. Then before you know what hits you, your wife is telling you she's leaving—for another guy, with a much, much safer job, because this happy little life you tried to give her is just too damn dangerous. Next thing you know, you're divorced and moving to a floating hunk of rock just so you can see your daughter two and half days a week and whenever you ex wants to run off to a fancy party with her new husband and needs a baby sitter; and you're partnered up with a living, breathing G.I. Joe doll who gets his kicks out of seeing how many times a day we can escape death."
And now it was back. Plan B.
"Do you need to talk with someone…professionally?" Steve joked.
"I do, you. Are you not the professional you so often claim to be, Steven?"
"Professional to a sense, Danno. The strongest thing I can medicate you with is fresh surf and turf and longboards. I mean, even I think we might run out of crustacean, cow, and hops before we can fix you. And, boy is the alcohol going to slow us down."
Danny sighed. The idea seemed to make him happy. "I'll take it."
Steve knew that he had to tread carefully, especially with the next few words out of his mouth. "I know what's going on with her right now. And I know she needs help. And I know that because of Grace you want to be the one to do that, but you can't, because it's not your job anymore. It's Stan's. I'm not saying you can't be supportive, but you've got to get over your ex man. I mean, I know Rachel all but cut out your still beating heart, but even you managed to forgive me for getting you shot and we moved on."
"Believe it or not, I still deem her actions worse than yours on any given day of the week."
"Can you say that again, please?" When Danny stayed quiet, Steve pressed on, "What else did she do to you? She had to have done something else. No man on this planet can possibly be this bitter over his wife leaving him because he has a dangerous job."
"You want to know?" Danny snapped.
There was the anger again. 'Good,' Steve thought, 'it's the perfect distraction.' "Yes, Danny, I want to know. Please, tell me."
"Remember when you asked me how I got a woman like her?"
"Yeah, you said she hit you and you offered her driving lessons because she was new to the country and, your words –had a cute tushie."
"Yep and I'm also a great sucker."
Steve got lost. "Huh?"
"I'm not going to lie, I was in love with her the second I laid eyes on her, and I still love her now, but that still doesn't mean I'm not a sucker. The only difference is, I know it now, and I still want to be with her."
"I don't understand."
"She might have loved me, at one point, but I don't think it was anything more than a passing fling for her...and then of course Grace came along. I clearly was much more invested in the relationship."
"Danny, I don't think that's true."
"Let me finish and then you can try and argue that point."
"Okay."
"I've never told anybody this. All everyone knows is that we got a divorce because she was worried I wasn't going to come home one day and leave her a widow with a young child. Not one single person, even in my family, knows the real reason I showed up married to Rachel."
"You were in love with her," Steve said as if the answer were that simple.
"I was, but she was also here on a student visa which was due to expire in May. She hit my car in January. I couldn't let her go."
"You married her so she could stay in the country."
"Yep; I was twenty four years old. We lived in a one bedroom apartment by the waterfront, and then she told me she was pregnant, so I put myself into debt buying a house with a yard and a fence to fit a baby. It was a nice neighborhood. I felt comfortable leaving my wife and daughter every day I made the drive from Weehawken to the Newark precinct. When Grace was about two I tripped over a raised manhole cover chasing a perp in the dark. It's how I tore up my knee the first time. When Grace was three a bullet grazed my thigh. It was fine, just a few stitches, but that's when the fighting started. She demanded I get more life insurance. I told her I was fine. We were fine; there was no need to worry. When Grace was about six, I came home early one day; I had pulled my knee again so my captain told me to take the day and feel better. I really wish he hadn't. I came home to a very angry Rachel—demanding to know why I was home so early—and a half naked Stan Edwards trying to sneak out of my bedroom."
Steve had let out a breath in disbelief as he stared at his partner.
"Yeah, for three years when I would leave for work and Grace was at school, Stan would go over to my house and sleep with my wife."
"Oh, Danny I…" Steve was at a loss for words.
"Yeah. That's why I moved into the hotel. I couldn't bear to sleep in that house anymore. My wife was building a new life with someone else, while waiting for me to get shot and killed so she could collect on my life insurance policy and be set. And here I am still in love with her."
"That's why you slept with her again? Revenge? He slept with your wife so you slept with his?"
"Partly, the other part just missed how we were together. Surprisingly, it was better. Apparently she likes the danger of maybe being caught—it makes her very passionate; almost animalistic."
"Wow."
"Too much?" Danny wondered, considering the man had been so desperate to know.
"No…well… I meant it as more of me being impressed. You deserved happiness; however it was going to come to you. You still do now."
"And yet, I can't seem to let go of the one woman who won't give me the 'happily ever after'."
"You're first real love is hard to let go; especially with history and a child. It's not like you're ever going to be able to escape it. Grace is always going to be the link between you two."
"Don't I know it," Danny sighed.
After a long beat of silence, Steve finally broke it, "So…was that story supposed to encourage me to ask a woman out for coffee or run away screaming?"
Danny slowly turned to face his partner and threw him a nasty glare. Steve just smiled and rubbed the man's shoulder; even managing to coax a small smile. Though, all that fell apart as soon as the doctor, with the sympathetic face, walked into the room.
"Detective Williams…I'm so sorry, she…" but Danny appeared to have stopped listening and was walking away.
Steve let him go and motioned for the doctor to finish telling him what happened. He knew Danny was going to want to know later, after he had gotten over the initial shock.
Noticing the gold shield clipped to his belt the doctor searched the new face for a name. "Um, Detective…?"
"McGarrett," Steve supplied, not bothering to get technical; this wasn't the time or place. Rachel was dead; Grace's mother was gone. And Danny was about to become even more of a mess.
"Detective McGarrett," the doctor began again, "We tried to control the bleeding and repair the damage and resuscitate her, but there is only so much that can be done after a certain point. Mrs. Edwards died of a massive brain hemorrhage that resulted in a systemic fat embolism and a stroke." He could clearly see the man understood 'brain hemorrhage' and 'stroke', but was lost at 'fat embolism'. "An embolism occurs when an embolus—a detached piece of bodily mass that can be in the form of a blood clot, a fat globule or a gas bubble—travels via the intravascular system causing a blockage. A fat embolism is often caused by physical traumas such as, but not limited to, head wounds due to all of the soft tissue damage; burns and also bone fractures. Typically the long bones of the body—the femur and humerus— are the most susceptible because of the way they can shatter, but it is also possible— when the skull has been so deeply fragmented by a fast moving projectile, such as a bullet— for those microscopic fragments to pollute the bloodstream. Now, for some reason she wasn't clotting, so her blood was rushing through her body, basically like someone had turned the tap on high; which is what started the hemorrhaging in the brain. Due to the trauma that had already been suffered and diversion of blood away from the heart to the open wound—bodily fats began seeping in and forming masses with the displaced tissue from the head wound causing the blockage. After which the oxygen levels to her brain decreased dramatically causing the stroke. Her body having already suffered so much couldn't take any more and her heart just gave out. Had she lived, she most likely would have suffered some pretty significant brain damage. Life would have been manageable, but difficult."
The doctor watched as Steve absorbed the information he had just given him. The SEAL sighed, wiped his face with his hand and nodded. Understanding that the good doctor meant death was actually a blessing. "Thank you, Doctor."
Although trying to be polite and consoling; the next words out of the Doctor's mouth were the wrong ones to say. "I am very sorry for your loss."
Danny's reaction was…volcanic…to say the least. He flung the, mostly full, paper cup Steve had brought him across the waiting room. It burst on impact with the dividing swing doors, causing the brown liquid to coat the top half of the windows and drip down onto the floor. He then proceeded to turn around and began kicking the back to back rows of chairs that lined the center of the room, causing them to slide backwards across the room into the row that was braced against the opposite wall.
The sudden banging and clashing noises scared the nurses on call behind the station –off to the right. One of them immediately reached for the phone to dial security, but the doctor, who had taken a step back, waved her off.
Steve motioned for the doctor to move back further and for the nurses to stay behind their station as he prepared to treat his friend like an injured animal out in the wild. He knew Danny was going to be irrational and unpredictable until he let it all out. Cautiously approaching the distraught man, Steve held his hands up in a surrendering motion before reaching out to snare Danny's wrists when he went to put his fist through the wall. Danny yelled at him and he jerked and yanked and twisted like mad to get free, but Steve just held tight and pulled him closer; maneuvering him into the farthest corner of the room—away from the innocent by-standing hospital staff.
"Danny! Danny! You want to hit something, Danny? You want to hit something? Hit me. Okay, hit me. Hit me!" Letting go of his partner's right wrist, Steve steeled himself for what was to come. Danny was so lost in his anger that any suggestion turned into act; he reared his fist back and let it strike.
Steve stumbled a bit, not only from the impact, but from also trying to keep control of his out of control partner. He could taste the blood in his mouth from where his teeth had cut into his lips. He felt the skin of Danny's knuckles again, this time the hit came closer –between his upper jaw and nose. The third strike landed closer to his nose and Steve felt the warming sting of his nasal passage nerves being disturbed. The fourth blow missed his face all together and the SEAL felt the jolt on the edge his shoulder. By the fifth one, the man was losing steam, and the blow to Steve's ribs felt more like an unpleasant poke. The final one was barely a tap to his stomach. That was it, Danny was spent from the anger, and grief was bubbling up once more to take its place. This time, instead of his fist, Danny's hand first clawed at and then clung to his friend's arm before he broke down and began sobbing.
Catching his weight underneath his arm, Steve braced the worn-out man against the wall and slowly helped him down to the floor. Once on the floor, Danny pulled his knees up to his chest, buried his head and pressed his arms down into his head.
Staring at his partner, Steve realized something else his niece had inherited from her father, the way she sat. Except when Grace did it, it was cute; and she was usually sitting at the edge of the shore line, laughing when the water pulled in, tickling her toes. Had Danny been sitting next to her at the beach in the same position, Steve would have teased him mercilessly about how "adorable" he looked. But they weren't at the beach and Danny didn't look anything more than miserable and pitiable.
Sitting down next to him, Steve began rubbing the hysterical man's back in slow, soothing circles. He occasionally used his free hand to wipe away the small trickle of blood that kept beading up on his lips and around his nose. The last time the SEAL had felt his partner's fist, they weren't even friends yet and Danny had been pissed off at him. And, until now, Steve still couldn't remember his jaw hurting that much. He chalked it up to two things. One, that Danny had put on more muscle in recent years and two; anger, grief, and love were much more powerful weapons than hate.
Steve had seen Danny cry before…well; he had seen him tear up, but never like this. This just about broke his years- toughened heart. Steve felt even more pangs when he realized that there wasn't anything he was going to be able to do, to even distract Danny from his feelings. No annoying, antagonizing banter, or teasing joke or ridiculous ploy was going to do the trick right now.
Wiping the dots of blood onto his pants, Steve reached out his free hand, cupped Danny's shoulder and pulled him tight to his chest. Danny Williams was so very vulnerable at that moment he didn't even protest. He just let his body fall limp; Danny allowed his partner to hold him up… because he just couldn't.
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Muse's Notes:
The following story was inspired by the song Lean On Me by Bill Whiters.
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-It is with a light and open heart, along with a great deal of anticipation that you, my reader, enjoy my work, just as with all my writing, it really means a great deal to me.
-Reviews and/or constructive criticism are not required here, but are always welcome.
-Flames are not required nor are they welcome; and while I cannot stop you from posting them, I will warn you, I usually don't take them to heart.
Love, Hugs, and Kisses,
Muse : )