Lights will guide you home
a/n: For my friend J. You know who you are and why this is for you so I won't say it again.
Title is from the ColdPlay song "Fix You".
I know, I know ther are million tags to 2.10 out there but... yeah.
The gunfire abruptly ceases and he sits there in the sudden quiet, bound, vulnerable and unsure, afraid. He has no clue what's happening and he can't do anything but wait. The canvas flap snaps up and there's a figure there but he can't really see against the glare of white light or maybe it's the hits he took that are making his eyes water. He tenses and tries to prepare for a fight he knows he can't win, not tied up and dazed as he is but one thing's for sure, he'll go down fighting, to his dying breath.
"Hey Steve! I got Steve! He's alive!"
And just like that, he sees the face, the build, the eyes. His own go wide and he blinks, can't believe it because it's impossible. Completely and totally impossible.
"Danny." It isn't possible. They don't know where he is. No one knows so it, this rescue, can't be happening. This can't be a rescue. It has to be a dream or a hallucination. It can't be real. But it is because Danny, the man who can't be there but is, is already working on the rope binding his hands.
"Where's Wo Fat?" he says stupidly when what he really wants to say is 'How are you here? What the hell are you doing here? How in the world did you find me? I'm so glad you're here it's not even funny.' But his brain and his mouth are somehow disconnected.
"Just shut up, would ya?"
The flap moves again and he sees Joe, sees Chin and he can only blink and stare. Maybe it's the last rifle stock to the head that has him so scrambled and unable to speak. He can only stare, eyes wide, disbelieving. How the hell are they here?
And suddenly, it doesn't matter. They get him out, half-carry him to a helo and shit, Lori's there, the SEALS too and shit, it makes no sense. He loses a few seconds when they haul him into the helo because he blinks and finds himself between Joe's knees with an AK in his hands. He checks it, scans his field of vision out of pure muscle memory and the helo lifts up, making his head swim just a bit. He knows it's a battered Twin-Huey and how the hell it's possible, he doesn't know or care.
He can only look around him and listen to Danny and Chin shouting above the wind and rotor noise but for the love of him, he can't make words come out of his mouth, nor can he help the ridiculously wide smile on his face. He can still taste the blood in his mouth, feel the burns on his chest, the swelling bruises on his body but none of it matters.
The only thing he can think about is: he's going home.
He keeps telling Danny he's fine. Once they land and he's got himself a little more together, he says his thanks, grabbing Danny's arm tight to the point of pain.
Danny still insists he get checked out once they make it back to Oahu.
"I took a beating but that's it."
"How many times did your head get cracked? How many times did you pass out?"
"I was in there for maybe 24 hours, Danny."
"Suspended by your wrists, barely touching the floor if the height of those chains I saw are anything to go by. And what the hell are those marks on your chest?"
"Danny. I'm okay." There's no way he's telling Danny about the cattle prod.
"I know you're okay. But you're not fine and tomorrow, you're gonna wake up in a world of hurt so how about some heavy duty pain killers and muscles relaxants to make that not so awful, huh? I know you're tough but c'mon, you deserve a break. And… I just saved your ass. I deserve a break too, okay?"
Steve sighs, dropping his chin to his chest. "Yeah. Okay."
"Thank you. That's all I ever ask. For you to act like a reasonable human being."
There's no sting in Danny's voice but he hears the quiet rebuke. I told you so. I was scared for you. I thought you were dead.
H50*H50
The next morning proves them both right. The exam reveals nothing more serious than deep bruises and contusions, a couple cracked ribs, lacerations too numerous to count (mainly on his feet, face and wrists), a loosened tooth and a mild concussion. The EKG was normal so the cattle prod hasn't done any damage there. His shoulders are badly strained but that is the worst of it. Steve took a few bad, brutal beatings, but he'll be okay in a week or two.
He however does wake up in that world of hurt Danny knew he'd be in. If he's honest, he knew it too. He just hates the way narcotics and muscle relaxants make him feel; disconnected, loose, out of it but he admits, he's more than willing to take both at the moment.
"Hey."
He startles badly, despite recognizing his partner's voice right away. He drops back to his bed with a pained grunt. He'd love nothing more than to drape his arm over his eyes to block out the morning light and the ensuing headache but his shoulders hurt a lot more than his head.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."
"S' okay. Ugh…Owww."
"Hurts, babe?"
"Can't… move," he says, feeling his stiff, abused muscles cramp. He woke up in the same position he fell asleep in and hasn't moved at all in… "What time is it?"
"I don't know. I don't even know what date it is anymore. Twelve hour flight, cross four time zones and the international date change line. I'm completely screwed up."
"What does the clock say, Danny?"
"It says… 1h37. P. M. since it's light out."
"On the 27th," Steve ads.
"If you say so."
"Unless I've been out of it for over 24 hours."
"Nah. I'd be passed out by then."
"Haven't slept?"
"No you shmuck. I've been a little too keyed up to sleep, possibly because my stupid idiot partner came this close to never coming home."
Steve can't say anything to that, can't dwell on it just yet. He was betrayed, kidnapped, tortured, both physically and psychologically and he knows there'll be fallout from it all, sooner or later. He knows he can deal with it, was trained for it but Danny wasn't and he has a feeling that if he brings that particular point up right now, he'll get his ears shouted off about misplaced concern and his head is most definitely not up for that.
"You fall asleep again?"
Danny's voice is gentle and quiet, not to wake him if he did.
"Nah. Just… bracing myself. I need to pee."
"Need a hand?" Danny asks after watching him struggle to sit up. His feet are swollen and painful but his legs are okay. His chest and abdomen are a whole other story. It takes some doing but he eventually shuffles to the bathroom, walking on the balls of his feet, the heels and soles too tender to bear his weight. He isn't surprised at the pinkish tint of the urine in the toilet. He took a couple solid hits to the kidneys. The doc warned him to the possibility and prescribed a week's rest, okay, bed rest, to make sure he recuperates properly.
"You all right in there?"
Steve rolls his eyes. "Yes, Daniel, I'm fine. I can take a leak by myself, okay?"
The grumbling outside the door makes him smile. He's really glad to be alive, to be here, to have Danny here to fuss over him like a mother hen.
He finishes up, washes his hands and grabs a couple pills from the bottles on the counter, swallowing them with a few mouthfuls of tap water. He shuffles back to bed, walking right past Danny. He lets himself fall sideways onto the mattress and closes his eyes. He's slept for thirteen hours and yet he's still completely worn out.
"You want something to eat?"
"Nuh. Gonna sleep s'more," he mumbles through a faceful of pillow.
"Okay. I'll get you some meds."
"Alr'dy took 'em. Gt' s'm sleep, D. Kay?"
"Okay."
He hears Danny walk out of the room and head downstairs and the couch creak as he drifts towards sleep. He rubs the itch on his nose and face, recognizing the tingle of narcotics hitting his blood. The heavy lethargy of the muscle relaxant hits next and he lets himself sink back into sleep, willing his mind to rest along with his body. He's safe, home, and it's over. He forces himself to remember he's not alone, that Danny's there, watching. He's sleeping on the couch downstairs but he's here, watching nonetheless.
He exhales softly and sleeps.
H50*H50*H50
He wakes with a shout, gunshots in his ears, pale gray light and cammo green in his mind's eye.
"Steve? You with me?"
He blinks a few times and moves to rub his face but stops short, a sharp ache in his shoulders making him gasp.
"Ow, f… Yeah. I'm awake."
He drops back to the bed, exhaling slowly, willing his heart to slow, staring at the ceiling. Golden light fills the room but it's full dark out. The sun sets fast in the tropics so he's not sure if it's early evening or the dead of night. His mouth's bone dry and he feels dizzy and disoriented. He's not sure if it's the nightmare or the comedown from the drugs.
"I brought you some food. We've been back almost a day and you haven't eaten and I'm pretty sure they didn't feed you, over there," Danny says quietly.
He doesn't reply, just sucks in a breath, trying to free himself from the sense memory the dream left behind. It's not just the images and the sounds; it's the smells, the feel if sharp current and most of all the fear, the blind rage and the overwhelming helplessness. What he doesn't expect is the overwhelming grief that floods him, so deep and wrenching it physically hurts. For whom? For what? He's not sure. It's not for Jenna, not for himself. Or maybe it isn't about him at all. He swallows and sits up, his back to the door.
"Steve? You all right?"
"Why would you risk it all, risk Grace, to come after me?" he asks, his voice a shadow of a whisper. "Why would any of you…"
"You really gotta ask? C'mon. You said it yourself. You'd have done it for any of us. Why does it surprise you that we'd do the same?"
He wants to say it's because he's different, that he's trained for this, that it's his job, that the military drilled 'leave no man behind' so deep into his brain it's second nature but that they're not military, that they're not like him, not bound by the same rules and principles but he knows in his heart it's not true. He knows very well his team would do anything for him, just as he would for them but for Danny, that implies a whole other level of sacrifice he can't come to terms with, can't understand. How can bringing him home come before his obligation to his daughter? Danny's said over and over again Grace is his life and…
" But… Grace," he says simply.
"Yeah, Grace," Danny says sharply and Steve thinks they're not on the same page at all from the tone alone. "You think I could look her in the eye and tell her I could have done something to get you home and chose to stay behind to be with her?"
"Danny—"
"Someone I know and respect once told me he looked up to his father for the sacrifices he made. I'm pretty sure my daughter would feel the same. Thing is, though, I wasn't alone. I brought plenty of backup. Maybe that's something you should try."
Danny's tone is mild but edged in steel, his message clear.
"Danny," he tries again but gets cut off, again.
"No. Stop it. Look. I know why you went. I trusted you to get it done, even. Right up till I found out the deck had maybe, just maybe been stacked sideways, and when Jenna called and said she'd basically screwed you over... There wasn't even a question. I'm your friend, Steve. I'm your partner, too. Put those two things together and what do you expect? You really think I'm the type to sit here and do nothing and let you get tortured to death? I ever strike you as the type to sit on my hands and twiddle my thumbs?"
"I…" He shakes his head. "I don't… You're not…" He sighs. "Thank you, Danny. I know I said it before but… Leave no man behind is a creed I've lived by for a very long time. I just… didn't… It's one thing when it's duty. But… what you guys did…"
"Hey, family first, right?"
"Danny you have no, no idea what it felt like, seeing you there. You can't imagine."
"Yeah. First thing out of your mouth is 'Where's Wo Fat', and that makes me feel so, so welcome babe, I gotta say."
Steve chuckles, a harsh, foreign sound and the movement it causes wakes the agony in his body. He grunts and bites his lip, his mind going back to that moment when the truck flap lifted to reveal his partner and not his nemesis "I honestly thought I was hallucinating. I was expecting him. Couldn't make sense of you being there. And then… I just… I couldn't…"
"Yeah."
"Okay, Danny says brightly, clearly shutting the door on the dark stuff for now. "Enough of this shit. You gotta eat, so c'mon. You wanna try for downstairs or…"
As much as he'd like to, the stairs are not something he feels up to. He finally turns, facing Danny, not willing to let go of their conversation just yet.
"I'm grateful for all you did. I know the team was there too but you're the one that made it happen."
"I had help."
"I know but you set it all in motion. And I'm gonna be okay, Danny, really. Might take a while and… I probably won't sleep very well for a week or two but… I'm okay and… what about you, Danny? You okay after all this?"
Danny puts the tray in his hands on the bed and sighs. He looks at him and the expressin on his face isn't something's Steve's seen before, can't quite identify. "Actually, I'm pissed off. Mainly at Jenna. I mean… she could have come to us… I dunno we could have caught the bastard, somehow, saver her fiancé, her too…"
"He shot her right in front of me," Steve blurts out and he has no idea why he does and the words turn into an image and he's suddenly right back there.
"It wasn't for nothing."
He hears a quiet ping and looks down. He reacts instantly, covering the small pin with his toes, ignoring the dank dampness of his own urine soaking the floor.
He looks at her and her eyes are so full of apologies, full of sorrow he wants to look away. He can't make out what Wo Fat's saying through the ringing in his ears but he picks up a word here and there and they're talking about moving. The guard leaves and Wo Fat steps between the two of them and all he can think is shit, her eyes are saying goodbye and-
BANG! BANG!
The touch on his shoulder startles him and he cries out, his hand clamping the wrist above the hand on his shoulder and twisting before he has time to think.
"OW WOHA HEY! Ease off McGarrett! This isn't the way to treat the person bringing you dinner in bed!"
Danny. It's Danny's voice. It cuts through him like a knife, severing the hold the memory has on him like a puppet's strings being cut. He lets go and twists away, heart hammering in his chest, adrenaline drowning out the pain firing all over his body.
"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says hoarsely.
"Don't worry about it. I should have known better."
There's a heavy pause before Danny speaks again. "Food's getting cold."
Steve sighs and shakes his head, not finding words for what's going on in his head. One flashback and a nightmare PTSD don't make but right now, he needs to clear his head, to get away from this for a while, regain his strength so he can deal with the whole mess and Danny, bless him, has given him an out. He knows Danny understands. His partner's not military but he's a cop and he's seen things, been through things that Steve never has and in this, they're the same. He's seen mass graves, been to war, killed more men than he cares to remember but Danny's seen murdered and abused children, serial killers and god knows what else. So he takes the distraction for what it is.
"Dinner in bed, huh?" he says, cracking a smile.
"Don't get any ideas."
"Like what?"
"Just shut up and eat."
Steve chuckles and nods and Danny smiles too.
He's not okay, but he's all right and he's got the lights of home to guide him out of the dark.
Fin.