Author's Note: Thank you for the kind and positive feedback on my first one-shot, Shatter. Having some of my favorite authors favorite and follow my work has given me the courage to start posting my longer works-in-progress. This one was started this summer and quite a few chapters are done. I will post as I polish them to my never-quite-satisfied-but-good-enough liking. I started another for NaNoWriMo, so I may post concurrently (if my brain doesn't explode).
Set in the early days of Five-O, but I've played with the timeline and included Grover.
Catherine is a vague friend-with-benefits, and Lori has never existed.
()()()()()()()()
**monday**
"Hey, boss."
A grin spread across Danny's face at the familiar voice on the phone.
"Rookie! What gives! Where's the love? It's been at least six weeks since you've called. Don't tell me I've been replaced," the detective good-naturedly grumbled, juggling his cell phone, coffee, and file at his desk.
"Never, you know that."
Danny paused, picking up on fatigue and an even raspier than usual sound in his former rookie's voice. "Hey, everything okay there, kid?"
The expected "Hey, who you calling kid?" came back, indignant if slightly strained. "Had a little run-in with an idiot, so I'm a little bit suspended. Thought I would take you up on that offer for some R&R on your newly adopted god-forsaken pineapple infested island home. Come pick me up at the airport?"
"How little of a run-in? How little bit suspended?" Danny thumped the file onto his desk and began to wind himself up into full rant mode. "How does one get a "little bit" suspended?"
"Chill, Danny. You gonna pick me up, or do I make a scene and get my ass hauled into your fancy Five-O headquarters or what? What does that even MEAN, 'Five-O'? I still don't get it." Danny wasn't the only one who could launch into a rant. He and his officer-in-training were legendary for their vocal outbursts. Those who thought the younger officer had picked up the habit from him were sorely mistaken.
"I will pick up you up, Jax," the detective replied, "Of course I will pick you up. But I expect a full report on this run-in and suspension of supposedly small proportions. What time does your plane arrive?" he asked, looking up as Steve entered his office, curious as to what new information had his partner pacing and gesturing.
"Well, so here's the thing, Danny. My plane has landed, and there seems to be some dispute as to my firearm being released back into my custody. Can you pause your crime-fighting long enough to come help sort this out? Please."
Steve's eyebrows raised at the clearly agitated voice he could hear through Danny's cell phone. 'Everything ok?' he mouthed, as Danny rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, instantly tense at the unmistakable hitch in his former rookie's voice, almost breaking on the word please.
"I'm on my way. If you cause a scene now and get hauled in here in hand-cuffs, we will pass each other in traffic so please just behave and wait for me, okay?" he tried to keep his tone light despite his growing concern.
Hanging up the phone, Danny grabbed for his keys. "Hey, partner, I'm gonna need to take a break from the exhilarating world of cold cases and go pick up my former trainee, who seems to be a 'little bit' suspended and is now on the verge of pitching a hissy fit because Honolulu Airport Security is apparently not inclined to return the firearm checked through security or some such nonsense. I didn't even know Jax was coming, but this is typical, just land at the airport without so much as a –"
"Chill, Danno," Steve grinned at his irate partner. "Come on, let's go straighten this out. Anything is better than paperwork and cold cases." Steve was curious; he'd heard a lot of Danny's animated stories about this rookie of his, especially in the early days of Five-O when Kono was fresh out of the academy.
"If one more person tells me to chill this morning," Danny grumbled, as they walked out the door, "What, it's National Chill Danno Day? And one cannot 'chill' in this interminable heat and humidity, now can one? So I don't understand that particular choice of word. Chill. Everyone ELSE needs to chill, that's what needs to happen."
As they reached the Camaro, Steve held out his hands for the keys. "Seriously? I'm the one called to the airport to pick up a friend and you're not going to let me drive? My own car, to the airport, to pick up my own friend? Seriously?"
"You seem agitated, Danno. I don't know that I trust your driving skills. Get in the car."
As Steve navigated the car through the mid-morning traffic, he glanced at Danny. The detective was nervously chewing on a fingernail and shifting in his seat.
"You're worried about Jax," Steve observed, "enough that you haven't even started your usual argument over the radio."
Danny sighed. "Something's not right. I've asked Jax a dozen times to come for a visit – and yeah, impulsive is not unusual, but this is beyond impulsive. No warning, no notice, just arrives at the airport? And why won't they release the firearm? Every LEO's firearm is registered. You and I fly through that airport all the time, no problem."
"We're sort of recognizable, Danno. Your old partner isn't."
"Trainee. Rookie. Not partner. I was Jax's training officer. Well, Grace and I were, until . . ." Danny sighed. "Jax had graduated just before 9/11. By the time we cleaned up the aftermath, she had been assigned to another precinct. We kept in touch though. Turned out to be a fine officer – a little on the crazy side, like some Super SEAL I know, but a good officer," Danny smiled, shaking his head at the memory of more than one insane stunt Jax had pulled on his watch. "How that kid survived training is beyond me; taking risks, always with something to prove. A good impression was made on 9/11 and there was a job offer with NYPD; I think she ended up in SVU, although I'm still getting crazy stories back from a bunch of departments, so I'm not sure. Still doesn't explain the hold-up with airport security."
"Well, let's go find out," Steve replied, neatly parking the car in the restricted area closest to the airport security office, as he and Danny showed their badges to the duty guard. Walking through the double doors, Danny inquired to the familiar desk sergeant as to the whereabouts of one seriously irritated NYPD officer.
"Sorry, Detective Williams. Officer Nolan is in the conference room. The weapon was checked in New York, but when we received the NLETs letter on this end, Officer Nolan was flagged as being suspended . . . we were trying to sort out the paperwork when you arrived. If you'll just come this way, we will release both Officer Nolan and the firearm." The sergeant motioned for the men to follow him.
"Detective Williams, you can go straight to the conference room if you like, and Commander McGarrett can sign for the weapon?"
Steve nodded and paused at a locked door, which the sergeant unlocked, and stepped inside. He pulled a clipboard from the side of a file cabinet, double checked the numbers, then presented Steve with a small box. "If you'll just sign here, Commander. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience."
Steve scrawled his signature across the bottom of the form, releasing into his possession one Sig- Sauer P266. Hunh, nice. One of my top choices.
His musings on firearm options was interrupted by the sergeant, who was saying, "Conference room is just two more doors down, on your right."
"Thanks. Got it. Appreciate the cooperation," Steve offered. Immunity and means meant that he and his Five-O team rarely had to quibble with any local law enforcement. It made life more efficient.
Still pondering the relative merits of Sig-Sauers and immunity and means, Steve continued down the hall in his usual confident swagger, not pausing or knocking as he strode through the conference room door.
He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight Danny with his arms around his former rookie, one hand cradling her head against his shoulder, fingers absently stroking through close cropped auburn hair. As the door clicked shut behind him, Jax whipped around, startled, and green eyes locked with Steve's. There was a lot more hair, waving down over her right cheekbone, but doing little to hide some impressively multi-colored bruising.
"Neanderthal," chided Danny, "at least you didn't kick the door in. Meet Officer Jax Nolan, NYPD. Jax, Commander Steve McGarrett."
"Ah, the legend, in the flesh," Jax extended her left hand to Steve; her right arm was encased in a sling. "Danny's told me stories."
"Officer Nolan, nice to meet you," Steve offered, awkwardly shifting the box to free up his left hand. Get a grip, Commander.
Jax rolled her eyes at his fumbling, and then winced as the motion brought on another wave of pain and nausea. Steve did not miss the brief tightening of her lips, just as he hadn't missed the startle reflex when he walked in the door. Meeting Danny's eyes briefly above her tousled hair, he saw tension and worry reflected back.
"Thank you Commander; sorry about the inconvenience. I forgot that my status as suspended could cause problems. I was a little fuzzy on details when I boarded." Jax's hoarse voice betrayed the firm handshake and her attempt at a carelessly upright posture was failing miserably. Steve glanced beneath the collar of her shirt and saw tell-tale signs of bruising. Raspy voice, she's been choked; dislocated shoulder or possibly a fractured collarbone; nasty bruise, possible concussion; she's guarding those ribs, too. His instinctive training in monitoring the health of those in his command took an automatic inventory of visible injuries.
Danny rested his hand gently on the uninjured shoulder and she flinched again, turning her head to look slightly up at him. "Let's go, kid, and may I suggest we begin our Hawaiian tour with a stop at one of our many fine medical facilities? You look like crap."
"Danny, I could still hand you your ass with my arm in a sling, and don't forget it," Jax retorted, holding out her good hand impatiently toward the box still in Steve's hand. "May I?" the question was a barely polite demand, but the slight tremor in her hand did not inspire Steve to hand over a weapon, boxed and unloaded though it might be.
Danny smoothly handed Jax her backpack instead, and picked up her battered duffle bag off the floor. "Let's get you settled in the car and at least back to the office. And then you're going to tell me what in the hell you've gotten yourself in to this time."
"Good to see you, too, Danny," Jax replied wryly. "You know, a good friend can just come to see another good friend when she has some vacation. You did invite me, after all." The three made their way through the whoosh of the double doors, and Jax squinted and paled as she encountered the bright mid-day sunshine.
Danny took the backpack from her hand and opened the passenger door, watching as she carefully lowered herself into the car. He thought he caught a whimper but then she giggled at the array of pink hair scrunchies resting in the console. "Something you want to share with the class?" she squinted up at him.
"Yes, I'm experimenting with new styles. Shut up Jax, and grab those sunglasses there before you spontaneously combust," he replied, gesturing to a spare pair of shades. They were Grace's, but they would probably do in a pinch.
Steve had opened the trunk and was carefully stowing the weapon, stalling to wait for Danny to come toss in the duffle. "She is seriously injured, Danny. What the hell? What did she tell you?"
"Said she took down a perp too hard, he filed a complaint, she got suspended. With pay, which tells me her chief thinks she'll be cleared once the dust settles. That's all we covered before you burst through the door like the Neanderthal animal you are and startled her. And yourself, I might add," Danny smirked, remembering the look of shock on Steve's face.
"Well, she's pretty jumpy, which is probably one reason as to why airport security wasn't inspired to hand her a weapon. And I just wasn't expecting her to be so . . . she's really . . . "
Adorable. Steve's brain helpfully filled in the blanks. That is an inappropriate adjective, Commander.
Danny narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Steve.
"Um, short. She's really little, I mean, shorter than you, Danno. All the stories, I just envisioned her to be more, you know, tall and badass, like Kono."
Danny laughed. "Oh, she's plenty badass. She has the temper to go with that red hair. I hate to see what the other guy looks like, honestly."
Both men jumped as Jax tapped the horn. "Not getting any cooler, here, guys," she complained, leaning her head wearily against the open front window.
"I will figure this out, Steven," Danny said quietly, then added louder, "Coming, coming, coming, princess."
"Princess your ass," Jax sniped.
"Children," said Steve, holding the front seat forward so Danny could fold himself into the back.
As Steve eased back into the traffic, he took in the stark pallor of Jax's skin beneath the bruising. "I think we should take Danny's suggestion of stopping to get you checked out," he offered gently. "You look like you had more than a little run-in with that hostile."
"Thanks, but I'm fine, really. Not used to this blazing light. We have smog where I come from. Casts a nice, gentle haze on the day. And I'm hungry." Steve recognized a diversion tactic; he'd used enough of them to discourage being on the receiving end of medical treatment. Given that her eyes looked closed behind Grace's sunglasses . . . how the heck do Grace's sunglasses fit her?. . . he risked meeting Danny's eyes in the rear view mirror. Danny shrugged; it was really impossible to overestimate the stubbornness of this woman. Honestly, he'd only met its equal in his crazy ninja SEAL partner.
"Okay," he countered from his unenviable position in the back seat, "How about we go back to headquarters, since some of us were not notified of visitors from the mainland, and therefore did not have the luxury of asking for the day off, and you can park your little woozy self in my office. And I will provide you with the finest soda and peanut butter crackers the vending machine has to offer, because you look like you're about to keel over, and then you can tell me just what in the name of all that is good and holy on the east coast is going on. Deal?"
"Deal," she responded, her voice still annoyingly and painfully raspy. "Geez, chill Daniel."
And then she closed her eyes, allowing the ranting from the back seat and the quiet observation from the tall man to her left to wash over her and she relaxed for the first time in days. He said 'hostile', she briefly thought, 'military habits die hard . . . '. Feeling truly safe for the first time since Danny had left New Jersey, she let the comforting sound of his voice lull her into a deep sleep.
()()()()()()()()
Danny had never witnessed Steve drive so slowly and carefully. Well, there was that one time, when he was the passenger with the right shoulder in the sling. While Steve might play off his own injuries, he seemed to take others' very seriously. Danny glanced at Jax in the front seat and winced in sympathy at the sight of the seat belt angling across her shoulder. She seemed down for the count, so he risked life and limb to lean forward over the console and gently pull back the collar of her shirt.
"Choke hold?" Steve had noticed Danny's exploration of Jax's neck. "I noticed bruising back at the airport."
Danny looked more closely, checking to be sure Jax wasn't about to wake up and commit manslaughter. He knew that she would resent his invasion of her privacy, but damn it, she wasn't being very forthcoming with answers, and he was a detective, after all.
"No. Choke hold would mean more diffuse bruising. These are finger marks, Steve. Individual finger marks. Someone was very angry, and it was very personal. And it was enough to damage her voice, too. What else did you pick up on?" Danny knew that while his skills could differentiate injuries on close investigation, Steve was trained to assess overall physical condition at a glance. It was all they would have until they could get answers from Jax, and Danny was starting to wonder if that would happen. "She's like you; she's going to insist that everything is 'fine' until we're hauling her unconscious ass up off the floor. I hope she's just sleeping now."
"We're almost back; if she's still out when we park I'll give her a quick field check for fractures, if that's okay with you." Steve knew it was risky to get handsy with anyone in law enforcement, much less someone obviously on edge. He wanted to at least have Danny's permission, as plausible deniability if she woke up and caught him in a potentially awkward position.
"Yeah, that's fine, and if you find anything seriously broken or cracked, like that thick skull of hers, we can just head straight to the ER. She hates hospitals almost as much as you; in fact, I can't even guarantee that she's been to get checked out. That sling could have been from any number of other cases that went sideways."
Danny ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He'd seen Jax come out on the injured end of a scuffle more than once, but he'd always had the satisfaction of seeing the other guys in handcuffs, looking even bloodier and usually shocked, and seeing Jax with a self-satisfied smirk . . . never mind that she was usually smirking from the back of an ambulance, as she tried to wiggle away from whatever poor EMT had to deal with her. This time, there was no smirk. "She did say the guy filed a complaint, about her using excessive force. I wonder what he looks like, if she looks this bad?"
Steve glanced over at Jax, his expression a mix of concern and admiration. "I would indeed like to see what someone looks like, who's willing to admit getting his ass handed to him by all five foot something of her. I mean, what guy files a complaint that someone probably half his size beat the crap out of him?"
"Consistently underestimated. I went to her precinct about a month before I left Jersey; her unit was being given a commendation for a hostage situation at one of the local hospitals. Her commanding officer said that she was especially effective because she was consistently underestimated." Danny didn't hide the pride in his voice. "I wish Grace coulda been there. She had so much confidence in Jax."
"Were the two of them close?" Steve glanced in the rear view at Danny.
"Yeah, they were pretty tight. You know, women in law enforcement – that has its own challenges. Grace knew that, knew how to make it work. Jax wouldn't be half the officer she was without Grace."
"You okay, partner?" Steve asked, as they pulled into parking at the Palace.
"Yeah. Yeah, this is good. Happy memories, now, you know? I just hope Jax hasn't gotten herself into something over her head. But she probably just took down a guy too hard, maybe just really needed a break. A vacation. Cops do take those, at least where I came from. To relax, even. Not go on death marches through the jungle, like you, Steven."
"Okay, whatever, Daniel . . you think she's out of it enough? Want me to give a quick check before we wake her up?"
Danny said Jax's name softly, testing to see if she would respond. When she didn't budge, he gave a quick nod to Steve, who started moving his hand expertly over Jax.
Danny's talking . . . what's he want? Ow. He's poking me. I should wake up, tell him I'm fine.
Steve gave Danny a running inventory of his findings. "Feels like this shoulder was dislocated, there's a lot of swelling; collarbone might be fractured, but not broken."
"Okay, well, I'm sure she's had worse. Collarbone, though, that hurts."
"Yeah, ask any football player. Okay, cheekbone bruised, not broken. Big, big bump on the back of her head. I'd say consistent with a pistol, Danno."
Ow. Danny. Stop.
Steve hesitated as Jax stirred, turning her head away from him. "I noticed she was really guarding those ribs."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she was hurting when she sat down in the car."
Steve cautiously spread his hand over Jax ribcage, just above the waist of her cargo pants, and pressed gently.
Danny. Seriously. That tickles . . . OW. And that HURTS. Jax realized that Danny was checking for fractured ribs, his long fingers . . . NO. Danny doesn't have long fingers. Not Danny. This is not Danny.
Steve wasn't sure how it happened, but he was suddenly aware of a searing pain in his hand. He looked down, shocked to see that a small, leanly muscled hand had him in a thumb lock. From his awkward position in the front seat, he couldn't get leverage to try to gently break her grip, and he didn't want to risk hurting her. Okay, consistently underestimated. Check.
"Jax, hey babe, it's okay." Danny put his hand on her good shoulder and shook gently.
Jax heard a hiss of pain in her left ear, and realized she was still locked on Danny's partner. Commander. Oh, yeah. Military, not police. But partner is police. Danny's partner is military? Wait. Oh shit. This is why I hate concussions. Jax opened her eyes, trying to get her bearings. Okay, car, in front of a big building. Danny's building?
"Babe, let go of Steve. It's okay, we've got you. You're okay." Danny continued to gently squeeze her good shoulder, as Steve grimaced in pain.
Steve felt the joint of his thumb give and slide out of place. Nothing he hadn't felt before but damn, if it didn't hurt. The pop seemed to register with Jax and she dropped his hand as if it was a burning coal.
"Sorry," she gasped, "what the hell are you doing?"
"He was checking for broken ribs, babe. He's a SEAL, you know, medic training; I wanted him to check you out, make sure you were okay."
"Danny, there is nothing okay about being trapped in the front seat of a Camaro getting groped by someone you hardly know, it doesn't matter how nice their hands are." Oh, lovely. Where did THAT come from? Definitely the concussion. "I have a concussion, Danny, a bruised collarbone, reset shoulder and a couple cracked ribs. Geez, I didn't know I needed to give you my medical records." Jax tried to reach for the door handle with her left hand, and couldn't stifle the gasp of pain that the twisting movement caused to her aching shoulder and ribs.
Steve cautiously put his good hand on Jax's knee. "Stop. You're hurting yourself. I'll get out, let Danny out, get you out, okay? Just sit still. One minute." He recognized the edge of panic; goodness knows he'd been there enough times himself: concussed, in pain, disoriented.
As Danny climbed out of the car behind Steve, he saw the SEAL grasp his thumb and heard a quiet pop, followed by a soft groan of pain. Danny cocked his head at Steve in question.
"She, um, dislocated my thumb." Steve mumbled as they moved around to the other side of the car. "You should probably be the one to get her out of the car. I'll get the bag out of the back."
"Sorry, man," Danny replied, but couldn't help grinning at the thought of his Super SEAL partner injured in first contact with his former rookie. "That's my girl."
()()()()()()()()
Under the guise of a tour, Danny and Steve escorted Jax slowly to the second floor of the Palace. Danny knew that she would actively resent the idea that they were moving slowly for her benefit, but it was obvious that her injuries combined with a long flight were taking a toll. She looked like she could hardly lift her SWAT-boot clad feet. Cargo pants. Button down tossed casually over a tank. She looks like a little mini-Steve. What happened to professionalism on the east coast?
Depositing Jax in his office, Danny stowed her duffel bag in the corner and headed to the break room to get the promised soft drink and crackers. Steve winced in sympathy as Jax gingerly eased herself down onto Danny's couch and debated whether or not to offer help. If it had been Kono, he would have been in familiar territory: help her despite her protests and pat her head affectionately. This was uncharted water: he'd already scared the crap out of Jax and she'd already dislocated his thumb. So pretty much the whole hour I've known her has been an adrenaline rush for both of us. Okay, that's weird.
"This is an amazing facility. It's all for Five-0?" Jax questioned Steve, who had opted for leaning casually against Danny's desk and graciously pretending to ignore her awkward descent onto the couch; though he did not miss the soft exhale of relief once she was settled.
"Yeah, the governor didn't hold anything back. Definitely one of the better equipped law enforcement agencies I've seen. Chin and Kono really take point on all the tech stuff." Steve realized that they weren't in the office. "I guess they took a lunch hour. We don't have an active case at the moment; just endless paperwork and cold case files to review."
Danny appeared back in his office. "Here, get some caffeine and calories in you before you land on Max's table downstairs."
"Max?"
"Our coroner."
"You have your own? Impressive."
"Indeed. Now, sit, eat, and stop trying to deflect. You have some explaining to do." Danny was winding up to rant again. Steve smirked when Jax caught his eye with an expression that was equal parts "isn't-he-cute" and "please-save-me".
"Seriously, Danny, it's not a big deal." Jax mumbled around the edge of a cracker. "Couple guys got the drop on me, and by the time I righted the situation I may have been a bit overzealous. One of them filed a complaint. Case is under review, meanwhile I'm suspended with pay."
"So you decided to get on a plane after you got discharged from the hospital, and fly here? Because that was certainly the most comfortable option. What aren't you telling me? And what do you mean a couple of guys – you said "a perp". Singular. Now it's a couple?"
"Geez, Danny, you're such a frickin' detective. I got on a plane because I finally have six weeks paid vacation. I can go back, just put me back on the plane." Jax closed her eyes and pressed the cold soda can against her cheekbone. Danny, just drop it. Please.
Steve couldn't help but admire her technique. Takes one to know one; she picked the one question that really didn't matter to answer. Oh, and look, she's going for the jugular . . . Danny won't push her if she's hurting . . .
"Jax, no, you're not going anywhere. Hey, are you hurting? Do you need something?" Danny softened his voice at the first visible acknowledgment of pain from Jax. "Did the hospital give you a prescription?"
Steve guessed where this was headed, and disappeared to his office.
"Um, no, I don't have a scrip, Danny. Just some aspirin or something if you've got it handy."
Steve walked back in and offered Jax a battered looking bottle of Motrin. "Grunt candy?" he asked quietly.
"Hunh. Yeah, thanks." Jax started to reach for the bottle and made a small sound of aggravation when she realized that between the sling and the pain threatening to overwhelm her that she was never going to navigate the cap. Hold it together, for crying out loud.
"Here." Steve popped the lid off the bottle and tilted three tablets into Jax's good hand, grinning as she tossed them back and practically dry swallowed them. Not her first rodeo, then. Their eyes met and a flicker of recognition passed between them. Jax had the distinct impression that Steve saw straight through everything that she had been able to deflect with Danny. She closed her eyes. "Thanks", she said, not daring to look at Steve. He sees too much.
"Sure. Danny, I'm going to get back to paperwork. Officer Nolan, take it easy, right?" Steve angled his head toward his own office, signaling Danny to follow him.
"Hey, kid, just settle in and relax for a little okay? Need anything else?" Danny crouched down to eye level with Jax and placed a gentle hand on her knee.
"Nah, I'm good Danno. I'm sorry . . . this really wasn't a good idea, just barging in here on you. I didn't mean to end up parked on my ass in your office. Is it a problem? I mean, what if you had been in the middle . . . I just wasn't thinking, Danny," Jax rasped.
"Hey, Rookie, stop worrying. I'm glad you're here. I'm not in the middle of a case, and it's fine. Let me go check in with Steve, okay, pass off the case I was reading to him, and we'll get out of here. Okay?" Danny's eyes crinkled in a genuine smile. He wasn't satisfied with Jax's explanation, but it was wonderful to have a piece of Jersey with him.
"Yeah. Danny – thanks." Jax met Danny's eyes . . . long enough for him to take note of the unequal dilation. Score one for Steve, concussion confirmed, thought Danny.
Danny found Steve in his office, frowning at his computer. "Wheels of bureaucracy moving slowly, there, Steve?"
Steve scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned. "You have no idea, Danny. How's Officer Nolan?" He absently rubbed at his thumb, which had already turned a nice shade of purple.
"She's a little worse for wear. You mind if I take off early this afternoon? Get her settled? I think she plans to stay for the duration of her suspension. I have no idea where . . . I'm starting to think she really did come here on an impulse."
"Yeah, that's fine." Steve hesitated, then added, "You think it's possible any trouble is going to follow her here? Did she tell you any more about what happened?"
"No, and normally I would say there's no way she would bring any trouble with her, but if she wasn't thinking clearly . . . I don't know, Steve. Something is definitely off."
Steve looked up as Kono and Chin walked back into the main office, then stood up as Chin motioned him to the smart table. "Looks like Chin has something."
Danny followed Steve out of his office and stood beside Kono, as Chin pulled up a file onto the plasma screen. "Kono and I have been out following up on this cold case. By the way, Danny, there is a small person asleep in your office."
"Yeah, friend from Jersey – long story. What's up with this case?"
Kono scanned another file onto the second plasma. "We pulled these files from HPD . . . a series of unexplained deaths in long-term care facilities. I don't think anyone at HPD connected the cases, but our database program picked up on some significant similarities."
Chin continued, "Seven patients at three facilities, hospitalized for non-life-threatening illnesses, all coded and died suddenly. All cause of deaths listed as "unknown". Reports were filed, but no charges. No suspects."
Kono pointed at the seven victims pictures on the screen. "Taken individually, the deaths were unfortunate and unexplained, but foul play apparently wasn't suspected. But take a look – seven victims, all female, none native, and most importantly, no close family members listed. One was a Jane Doe; the others had no history of visitors."
"Someone knew they wouldn't be missed," Steve mused. "They were alone on the island."
"Wow, that's depressing," Danny commented. "Do we have Max reviewing the files?"
Kono looked past Danny and smiled at Jax as she came out of Danny's office. "Hello."
Chin glanced up, took in Jax's battered appearance, and quirked an eyebrow at Steve, who shrugged and absently rubbed his thumb again. Interesting, Chin thought, wondering if there was a connection.
"My former rookie, Officer Jax Nolan," Danny made introductions, "Jax, Officer Kono Kalakaua and Officer Chin Ho Kelly, both former HPD and now Five-O."
Jax extended her good hand to Kono and Chin in turn. "Nice to meet you both. Whatcha got, Danny? Serial killer?"
"Um, not sure. And you're definitely not part of the investigation, Jax," Danny said. "You're suspended, remember?"
"From NYPD," Jax grinned.
Danny started to argue but was interrupted by the arrival of an agitated Max, his lab coat fluttering behind him as he pushed through the double doors into the room.
"Officer Kalakaua, I have reviewed the autopsy reports of these seven people and I have discovered some alarming anomalies." Max handed Kono a thumb drive, and as she plugged it into the table, he noticed Jax for the first time.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I did not notice you standing there," Max stated, in his usual abrupt manner. "I assume from the bruising around your neck and your other injuries, that you are here being interviewed as a victim of a sexual assault. My apologies for interrupting. I will return at a later time."
Jax felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. Kono and Chin glanced at her, then at Danny and Steve, confused. Danny, if you hadn't thought of this, you are definitely too close to be objective, Steve thought, as he took in Danny's stricken expression.
Jax willed her voice steady, and avoiding Danny's eyes, replied, "Nope. Just a rough day at the office." She extended her good hand to Max. "Jax Nolan, NYPD."
Max accepted her statement at face value, as was his habit. "Very well then. Are you here investigating this case as well?"
"No, she is not," Danny inserted. "But please, tell us what you found."
"All of the deceased were listed as organ donors. And all were on ventilators. At some point, a massive brain event – a stroke, or an embolism – rendered them brain dead. But because of the ventilator, each patient was being so closely monitored that blood and oxygen flow was flawlessly maintained, thus making their organs viable for harvest and donation."
Danny wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Max, you sound just a little bit too impressed with this sick scenario."
"Detective Williams, if these are indeed victims of foul play, it is a remarkably well-executed plan."
Steve studied the pictures on the screen. Turning to Max, he asked, "So, where did the organs go?"
"That, I cannot tell you, Commander McGarrett. I believe that will require some warrants." Max looked to Chin, who nodded and started typing on the smart table.
"I'll get them, and follow up. But we do have reason to think that someone is deliberately killing victims who fit this profile, and apparently for their organs. Someone is profiting; we just need to know who, and how."
"Good work, guys," Steve nodded to Kono and Chin. "Chin, as soon as you get those warrants, let's focus on finding any possible connections between the organ recipients. Kono, see if you can dig up anything on the victims – any similarities, connections, commonalities."
Jax was squinting at the screen. "What are the dates of the murders?"
"No. You are not looking at the dates. You are not on this case, Jax. You are injured and clearly exhausted, and you are going to go to your hotel and get some rest." Danny squared off against Jax, getting in her line of sight on the screen. "Where were you planning to stay?"
Oh. Yeah. That was supposed to be part of the plan. Damn concussion. I am so far off my game.
"Um, I guess I thought I would crash on your couch," Jax offered uncertainly.
Danny sighed and started toward his office, Jax falling in behind him. Steve found himself following, though he wasn't entirely sure why. This was really none of his business. But he was intrigued by this spitfire who fit into Gracie's sunglasses and dislocated his thumb.
"Jax, I'd love for you stay with me, I really would," sighed Danny. "You are going to need concussion checks – don't argue with me, your pupils are so unequal I don't know how you're standing, much less trying to connect victim stats. But it's a little complicated. I'm still fighting with Rachel over custody of Gracie. She would use anything against me at this point."
"Danny, it's not a big deal," Jax insisted. "I'll find an extended stay close by. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I put my forced desk time after 9/11 to good use, racked up a bunch of EMS training. I'm tac medic certified. I've had a concussion before, for goodness sakes, and I can change my own dressing." Oops.
"DRESSING?" Danny exclaimed. Jax cringed, his raised voice bouncing off her aching head.
"She'll stay in my guest room," Steve blurted out.
When did I decide this was a good idea? he wondered.
Danny's eyebrows shot up in shock. The SEAL was fairly solitary under the best of circumstances, and while he took great care of his team, had been notoriously grouchy when Danny crashed on his couch. Catherine had seemed welcome, off and on, though lately Danny had noticed their visits were increasingly rare, and increasingly strained.
"I can do a concussion check. And change dressings, which apparently is an issue. Plus . . ." Steve hesitated, "Look, I don't want to insult you, Officer Nolan, but are you sure that you've thought your visit here through clearly . . . is there any chance that anyone will have followed you? Someone who would like to finish what really looks like a sincere attempt to kill you? And if so, would that person be a threat not only to you, but to Gracie? I know you wouldn't want to take any chances."
Jax sank against Danny's desk. "No. But you're right – my being here could threaten Gracie if it complicates the custody situation. Danny, let me just go back. This was a mistake."
"Absolutely not," Danny leaned against the desk next to Jax, lending her some of his solid strength. Steve noticed that she relaxed into him immediately, if almost imperceptibly. "You're exactly where you need to be. Plus, I can vouch for Steve's excellent nursing care, having been the recipient of it a time or two myself. He may be a Neanderthal but he's good with . . . wait, what about these dressing changes. What on earth?"
"It's just a little, um, laceration. Couple of stitches." Jax shrugged her good shoulder.
"Everything is little with you, Jax. Little run-in, little suspension, little laceration."
"Well, she's a little person," Steve couldn't help himself.
"Shut up," came the duet of Danny and Jax.
"Fine," Steve grinned back at them. "So, how about we go back to my place, and get Jax settled. I'll throw some steaks on the grill tonight; we'll make an early evening of it. Come back tomorrow and regroup, because Chin and Kono will probably have some leads for us by then."
"Sounds good," Danny replied, looking at Jax for confirmation. She wearily nodded her head. Honestly she was just too tired to argue. Danny trusted Steve implicitly, she could tell, and that was good enough for her. They had swapped enough stories over the last couple of years for her to know that Danny would follow Steve into hell itself. Danny was the only person who had inspired that sort of confidence from Jax.
Danny grabbed her duffle bag and handed Jax her backpack, and she followed him out of the office. "Danny, can I please get my weapon back?" She didn't mean for it to come out sounding so pitiful.
"No, it is locked in my office until you can see straight enough to shoot. Steve is well-armed, I assure you."
Steve paused at the smart table and spoke to Kono and Chin. "I'm going to head out with Danny, get Officer Nolan settled. We'll see you first thing in the morning; you should have warrants by then, and we will see where the leads take us."
"Sure, boss," replied Kono, smiling at Jax. "It was very nice to meet you, Officer Nolan. Aloha. I hope we see you again."
"Yes, aloha," said Chin. "Welcome to the island."
"Thanks," Jax replied. "Hey, all of the victims are female. That's significant, right? Did you check to see if –"
"Say goodbye, Jax," Danny interrupted.
"Goodbye Jax," she mumbled, disgruntled, and followed him out the door that Steve was holding open.
()()()()()()()()
As they neared the parking lot, Steve tossed Danny the keys to the Camaro.
"Meet you at the house, Danny."
Once he was in his truck, Steve placed a call to Chin. Something was nagging at him. "Chin, hey, I know the warrants on those health care deaths are first priority . . . but do me a favor, would ya? Pull a file on Officer Jacqueline Nolan, NYPD. No, I'm not sure what I'm looking for. Just . . . something isn't right. Yeah, I'll talk to Danny, just pull it quietly, okay? I'll check in with you later. Thanks."
Jax let Danny help her into the car. She even sat quietly and allowed him to fasten her seatbelt. Danny went straight from concerned to alarmed. It wasn't in Jax's nature to be remotely passive.
They drove in silence for a few moments. Danny kept thinking about Max's assumption. How had he missed that? He was a detective, for crying out loud. All of the signals were there. The choke hold, the injuries, the way she jumped a mile when Steve came through the conference room door.
"Danny. Stop thinking so loud." Jax mumbled from the passenger seat.
"Jax . . . what Max said . . ." Danny halted over the words. "Was he . . . were you . . ."
"Danny, I'm fine," Jax said quietly, placing her good hand on Danny's knee. "Really. I promise."
Danny let it drop. Coward, he thought, she didn't answer you. You don't want to know.
"It's beautiful." Danny thought Jax was asleep, again, until she spoke. "The island. It's beautiful."
"It's a pineapple infested volcano, and don't you forget it, Jersey," Danny grinned.
"Not Jersey, anymore, Danny," Jax replied.
"Yeah, yeah, you moved up in the world, to NYPD, I know, Rookie."
She didn't reply. I don't think I'm NYPD anymore, babe.
()()()()()()()()
Danny had driven slowly, in light of Jax's injuries, but also so that she could enjoy some of the scenery on the way to Steve's house. When they arrived, the late afternoon sun had warmed the entire house and yard to a soft glow.
"Wow."
"Pineapple infested, Jersey girl. Don't sell out on me, now." Danny pulled her bags out of the trunk and paused to help Jax out of the car. It was getting increasingly difficult, and he winced in sympathy as every movement affected her injuries.
They entered the front of the house, as Danny called out for Steve.
"He must be out back," he said, dropping Jax's bags in the guest room and motioning for her to follow him out the back door.
"Wow," she said again. "Really, this is amazing."
Steve watched as Jax walked straight toward the water. Danny rolled his eyes in annoyance. "She's in love with your island, Steve. Total sell-out." Steve noticed that Danny's face softened, looking at Jax, as the sun and humidity did amusing things with her hair.
"Here, have a seat," Steve motioned toward the worn chairs near the water. He had already tossed a thick beach towel over one, hoping to make it slightly more comfortable.
"Don't be a stubborn ass, and let me help you," Danny said, extending his hand to Jax. For once, she listened and held on to him as she lowered herself into the chair. Jax stared out over the water, entranced. Steve couldn't help but grin at Danny. Some people took to the island instantly, and it pleased him to no end that Danny's former rookie apparently fell into that category.
"I'll grab us some drinks and fire up the grill. Be back in a few." Steve strode toward the house as Danny sat down next to Jax.
"Okay, it's pretty," he grudgingly admitted. "Gracie loves it here."
"How is Gracie? Could you really lose custody?" Jax asked.
"My lawyer is optimistic. And expensive," Danny commented wryly.
"I don't want to complicate things, Danny. I just . . . I didn't know where else to go. I needed to get away from New York, you know?"
"This one really shook you up, kid. I wish you would tell me the whole story. I know there has to be more to it. I've seen you take worse hits than this. Except for that bruising around your neck. I've never seen that . . . not sure that I would ever have been prepared to see that, Jax."
"Danny, it's really not complicated. I told you. I'm fine, really. I just haven't had any downtime and it caught up to me. This will be great; I'll get rested up, I'll get a tan. Or, you know, freckles. Whatever."
Steve returned with three Longboards in each hand. "Hey, no beer for Jax, alcohol and painkillers don't mix," Danny protested.
"No prescriptions, remember, Danno?" Jax grinned at Steve in thanks as he handed her a bottle. As his hand passed in front of her, she caught a glimpse of this thumb. The bruising was dark purple against his tan, the swelling was slight but still obvious. Such nice hands, even damaged. Nice gentle rib checking hands. Jax gave herself a firm mental shake. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?
"Oh, Commander McGarrett," Jax started, "Really, I'm so sorry . . ."
"No worries, really, and please, call me Steve. Seriously, it's not a problem. You were disoriented and startled. Don't give it a second thought."
"So, I know how Danny ended up here . . . he followed Grace. Tell me how you came to Hawaii."
Almost an hour passed in companionable conversation. Danny was pleased to note that Jax seemed relaxed and even in less pain. She ate the kabobs that Steve grilled, knowing from his own experience that food in small pieces on a stick would be easier to manage, and took another couple of Motrin that appeared magically along with a glass of water.
As the sun set, Danny stood to leave. "I don't get Grace this evening, but I can swing by and say goodnight to her. Think I'll do that. You okay from here, Jax?"
"Yeah, I'm good Danny. Thanks. Pick me up in the morning, or should I ride in with Steve?"
"Um, what you should be doing in the morning is sleeping, Jax. Sleeping, and drinking some sort of awful herbal tea which I'm sure Steve must have, knowing him, to take care of your throat. You still sound terrible."
"Danny, I can not possibly sit at home all day. I will go stark raving crazy. I can't swim, I can't drive, I will go nuts."
"Oh, NOW you want to point out that you need help; what happened to being perfectly fine by yourself and changing your own dressings, which, by the way, Steven, I do NOT want to know about because I honestly do not need that image in my head, okay?"
"Guys," Steve interjected. "I will bring Jax in with me in the morning, if she is feeling up to it. There's plenty to do at HQ, she won't get bored, and there'll be someone there all day, even if we have to go out."
"Okay, okay fine. Steven, please do not forget to do a concussion check, somehow even her thick skull has not protected her. I will see both of you crazy ninja people in the morning, then."
"Goodnight, Danny," Jax rasped. The conversation had distracted her, but had increased the hoarseness in her voice. Danny frowned. "Herbal tea of some sort, right?"
"Yeah, Danny, I got it," Steve nodded.
"What am I going to do with you, you big goof?" Danny leaned down and kissed Jax on the top of her head, tousled her hair, and then walked back to his car.
Jax and Steve sat for a while, until Steve realized she was dozing and he did not want to risk having to wake her up in an unfamiliar place. He suspected there would be enough of that all night, anyway.
"Let's get you settled, Jax," he offered, holding out a hand to help her up. She accepted reluctantly.
"Thanks . . . just stiff and sore, really. I'm sure I'll be so much better tomorrow."
"Umm hmm," Steve was noncommittal. He knew pretty much exactly how she'd feel tomorrow, and it wasn't going to be much better. "What do you need, to be comfortable tonight?"
"A shower would be great. I'd sorta like to wash the remnants of New York off of me. Oh, and then I'll need help changing this stupid dressing, if you don't mind? Despite Danny's theatrics, it's really not a big deal. I think I have plenty of stuff in my bag."
"No problem. I have a kit."
"Oh, yeah. SEAL. I'm sure you could perform an appendectomy on your kitchen table if you had to."
"Only if I had to," Steve grinned. "Guest room, here, I see Danny put your bags in there. Guest bath is right next door. Clean towels are there."
Steve sat down at his desk and pulled up his email, half an ear listening for any sounds of distress from the bathroom. He heard a couple of muffled curses which made him wince in sympathy and smile. Boots were a pain in the ass to deal with one-handed and he had wondered how she was going to get hers off. Stubborn, she should have asked him.
He clicked on an email from Chin. Sure enough, it was Jax's file. He hesitated. She wasn't a case, she was Danny's friend. Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes. He heard the water turn off in the shower; heard a few thumps and muttered swear words as Jax sorted herself out with her sore shoulder. Right. Not a case. I'll ask her some direct questions, see if I can get some direct answers. Then I'll look at the file.
Steve went into the kitchen and flipped on the coffee maker. Remembering Danny's request for tea for Jax, he pulled the box down from the cabinet, and set out two generous mugs.
"Um, hi, I have . . . could you . . ."
Steve heard Jax pad quietly into the kitchen behind him and turned. She was in the doorway, a handful of gauze pads and tube of antibiotic cream raised toward him. Without the added height from her boots and the added bulk of cargo pants, she looked positively fragile . . . the bruising around her neck stood out in sharp relief in an oversized v-neck t-shirt, and the NYPD gym shorts revealed some deep scratches and abrasions just above her knees. She wasn't wearing the sling but held her arm protectively around her ribs.
In an instant, every single one of the many protective switches in one Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett were flipped – hard. He took in a sharp breath, as he was overwhelmed with simultaneous urges to pull her into the safety of his arms and to find whoever left those bruises and kill them with his bare hands. Danny might be right, I might be a Neanderthal.
"Danny is right?" Jax raised a curious eyebrow.
I'm hoping I said that out loud. The alternative is that she's reading my mind and I'm not sure that's a good idea.
"Once in a while, don't tell him I said that though," Steve replied. "Danny ordered tea for the lady, right?"
Jax wrinkled her nose. "Coffee?" she countered.
Steve looked dubiously between her and the coffee pot.
"We won't tell Danny," she said. "Please? I'm a cop. I need coffee. And that smells really, really good."
"You haven't had coffee until you've had Hawaii's finest," Steve replied, pouring her a generous cup. "Need anything in it?"
"Hmm, no, black is great. Um, I couldn't reach . . . would you mind . . ." she held out the gauze pads as she reached for the coffee.
"Yeah, absolutely. Where?"
Jax set her coffee on the counter in front of her, reached her good hand around and pulled down the top edge of her gym shorts. Steve saw the top edge of a line of stiches extending above a wrinkled bandage on her right hip. "I just can't reach . . . this stupid shoulder."
"I got it." Steve pulled the waistband of her shorts away and gently down a few inches. "Jax, this is not a little laceration. I'm counting at least fourteen stitches."
Jax took a sip of her coffee. "Yeah, about that many. This is really amazing coffee."
"Changing the subject isn't going to work as well with me as it does with Danny. This looks like a knife wound." Steve added the antibiotic cream as gently as possible, but Jax couldn't help but flinch. "Sorry, almost done." He opened the fresh bandage and smoothed it over the wound, carefully pulling the shorts back into place above it.
Jax stayed turned toward the counter, sipping her coffee. Steve poured himself a mug, and pulled out two barstools at the island.
"Sit down. Please."
Jax eased onto the barstool.
"Danny is worried about you," Steve stated. Jax nodded, looking into her mug.
"This means I'm worried about Danny. I can't worry about Danny, worrying about you. That's two of us distracted and we have a case coming up."
Jax looked up, expecting to see disapproval, but only concern was reflected in Steve's eyes.
"Look, Danny and I both know you're more injured than you're willing to admit. There are huge holes in your story. Now, I can respect your privacy and I can understand if there are things that you don't want to share with Danny, or if what has happened to you is difficult to talk about. But I have to protect my team, including Danny, and I can't do that if he's distracted. So I need some answers, and I'd rather get them from you." Steve hesitated, then added, "Before I get them from your file. You have to know I have access."
Jax sighed. "From Danny's description of your team, I half figured you'd have pulled it already."
"It's on my laptop. I haven't opened it. Thought I'd give you the courtesy of direct questions first."
"Fair enough. Okay, have at it." Jax studied her coffee with intensity.
"Why aren't you telling Danny what happened?"
"I told him what happened – I was outnumbered and got the crap beat out of me. I'm going to be fine. That's what happened."
"That's the what. You haven't explained the who. I don't believe that those fingerprints around your neck are from some random thugs. That's too personal. Who did this to you, and why don't you want Danny to know?"
"Look, Danny feels responsible for everyone. You have to know this by now. He wants to keep everyone safe. He will always blame himself for Grace, and he will always feel responsible for me. Taking a few hits is part of the job, he can accept that. He could never . . . if he knew . . ." Jax paused. "I can't have him coming back to New York and looking to settle a score. It's just better if he doesn't know. It's being handled."
"What if New York follows you here, Jax?" Steve was becoming frustrated.
"Not gonna happen. They would never show their face near Danny, they know he would . . ."Jax stopped short. She was suddenly deeply invested in her coffee.
"Oh my God, Jax, you knew them. You knew the guys that did this. Danny knows them?" Steve was putting the pieces together. "Other officers. These bastards were NYPD, weren't they? Does Danny know them?"
Jax tried to take a deep breath and winced as her ribs and collarbone twinged. "If we're going to get in to this, could I have more coffee?" She held her mug toward Steve.
Steve turned away toward the coffee maker, knowing that his barely suppressed rage was not going to contribute to getting the rest of the story from Jax. He took a couple of calming breaths before he turned back around, handing Jax her mug.
"Okay. Tell me what inspired some of your fellow officers to use you as a punching bag, please, because I would like to know in what universe that should happen," Steve began sarcastically, "and then tell me exactly why it isn't entirely appropriate for Danny to go back to New York and kick their asses. Because frankly, I would like to go help him."
"I finished my training the week before 9/11. That's why I wasn't with Danny that day. I had just been assigned to a different precinct, different team. Of course, everyone from everywhere poured into the city. I ended up at Ground Zero, and I guess I made myself useful, because that November, I had a job offer at NYPD. They were creating a new position; two officers in each precinct who had a certain skill set and could be assigned to any team: SVU, undercover, SWAT , IA. Sort of a cop-of-all-trades. I accepted the job." Jax shifted a little on the stool.
"I'm listening," Steve said, as he got up and reached for a bottle of Motrin in the kitchen cabinet. "Danny said you had crazy stories from all different departments, that makes sense. Are you sure you don't need something stronger? Didn't the hospital give you a scrip?"
"Thanks, this is fine. I hate narcotics, they make me loopy." Jax held out her hand for Steve to shake a couple of tablets out of the bottle. "Yeah, so that's my job. SWAT needs someone who can fit into tight spaces. SVU needs someone unintimidating to talk to victims. Undercover . . . well, let's just say I don't immediately make people suspicious that I'm a cop. I don't exactly look the part." Jax tossed back the Motrin with a sip of coffee.
"I helped in a few key cases, promoted rather quickly. Six months ago, I decided to apply to SWAT. It was getting exhausting, trying to make everyone happy. And I never had a partner, and I wanted that. After working with Danny and Grace . . . I wanted to feel like someone had my back. I knew all the EMS certifications would qualify me to take tac medic. Plus, SWAT is . . . more straightforward, you know?" Jax glanced up at Steve, smirking. Danny's stories usually involved some variation of Steve kicking down a door or blowing something up.
Steve grinned back, "Yeah, I get that."
"I got it. I got the SWAT position. Problem was, four of us had applied. The three guys that didn't get it took exception to a girl half their size and with fewer years on the force taking the spot, decided to put me in my place. I fought back, held my own until another officer came looking for me when I didn't answer my phone for a call out to a case." Jax swirled her coffee around, not meeting Steve's eyes.
Steve thought of what Max had said, looked at the distinct fingerprints bruising Jax's neck.
"How long? How long did you hold your own, Jax?" Steve looked at Jax's hands curled around her mug, noticed the bruising on her right knuckles that had been hidden by the sling.
"Um, I'm not sure. It seemed like a long time. But maybe just an hour, I guess?" She still refused to meet his eyes.
"You have to know what I'm going to assume," Steve said gently. "The injuries are consistent, the timeline . . ."
Jax finally met Steve's eyes, and he felt as though the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He marveled that she was composed enough to sit quietly in his kitchen, that she had trusted him to change her bandage. Of course, she dislocated your thumb first, maybe she got it out of her system.
"Steve, it would kill Danny. He doesn't need to know anything. I got outnumbered, I fought, I took a few hits, and I'll be fine. That's all he needs to know. He can't carry around any more guilt. Somehow, he will convince himself that there was something he could have done from halfway around the world. And he will want to go deal with something, and he can't do that. He has to stay here and be here for Gracie and make sure his custody of her is secure. I shouldn't have come but . . ." Jax faltered.
Steve hesitantly reached out a finger and gently rubbed over the bruised knuckles. "Why did you come? Why here?"
"I had to get away from NYPD. Once someone showed up and the situation was under control, I got in a few extra kicks. One asshole I knew from Jersey; he went on about how Danny should have taught me my place in training. He actually filed charges against me, because he was technically in custody and subdued. You know, zip tied. IA is involved, and legal . . . I'm told that I'll be held to a different standard than a civilian, that I should have known when the fight was over and walked away. I'm suspended, I don't know if I'll have a job . . . I don't know if I can be there anymore. Once something like this happens . . . I've seen it. The guys look at you different, treat you different. I don't know that I can take that."
"I understand that you needed to get away from New York. Why here, specifically, if you didn't want Danny to know?" Steve asked.
"Instinct," Jax whispered. "I was operating on adrenaline and instinct, and Danny . . ."
"Danny is safe?" Steve guessed.
"Yes."
"But then you realized that you had to keep Danny safe, by not telling him."
Jax looked up in relief, "Yes, exactly; see, you understand."
Steve shook his head sadly. "I understand that you are trying to protect Danny. But you're going about it the wrong way. Keeping this from him – this will hurt him. When he finds out the whole story, and he will, he's going to go ballistic either way. By not trusting him with this, you're betraying him."
Jax flinched as if she had been struck. On some level, she knew Steve was right, but between the exhaustion, pain, fatigue, and concussion she just couldn't sort it out.
She hadn't realized that she was crying until Steve reached up and wiped a tear from her bruised cheek, brushing aside her hair which had dried into reckless curls.
"Hey, it's okay. It's going to be okay. You are safe here, you know that right? We are family here, and you are special to Danny, so that makes you special to us. We'll figure this out, I promise. Now, in the meantime, what year is it, and how many fingers am I holding up?" Steve decided to set the heavy conversation aside with a concussion check.
()()()()()()()()
Steve ensured that Jax was as comfortable as could be expected, sleeping in a strange place, and then went back to his laptop and pulled up her file.
Sure enough, she had made herself quite useful on 9/11. She had been in the thick of the action, responsible for at least two civilian saves, and had administered first aid to several officers before being injured herself. Her career was less than a week old and she had earned her first of many commendations.
Steve read through the positive reviews from all of her superiors, though he noted that several had commented on her temper and short fuse. Well, that riot of red hair, what did they expect?
He clicked through several more attachments until he got to the most recent hospital report which had been added to her file, with a note from her immediate superior that it was to be considered material as defense against the "completely reprehensible and inexcusable charges brought against her". He got through the first few lines describing the concussion, collarbone, and shoulder injuries. He swallowed hard as he read about the knife wound; there were actually seventeen stitches, and he made a mental note that they had not used dissolvable sutures – those things were going to have to come out at some point.
He skimmed through the rest; closing his eyes and slamming the laptop shut when he got to the line that read "bruising and superficial lacerations consistent with . . .". He didn't want to know any more. She was right, this would absolutely kill Danny. Hell, he'd only known her for a day and he wanted to throw up, punch a wall, and swim for an hour just to wash the idea off of him.
Steve sighed and headed up the stairs to his room, wondering how much sleep either of them would get that night.
()()()()()()()()