"They made him choose, Chin. They made him fucking choose."
It's Danny's voice that brings him slowly back to consciousness. Choked, broken: Danny's voice should never sound like that. It triggers a primal response in his brain, an urge to protect that he can't ignore.
It's a shame the rest of his body isn't getting the same message.
Struggling to the surface is like coming up after a deep water dive. One moment he's surrounded, cocooned, safe. The next moment it's sensory overload: light, noise, pain and it's too sharp, too loud. He can't stop himself from letting out a groan.
His brain feels like it's going to explode.
"Shh…you're safe, Babe."
Forcing himself to focus on his partner's voice he takes a cautious breath, wincing as his ribs twinge with pain. He's guessing that's not the only damage, judging by the high dose of painkillers he's floating in. It's not helping the pain in his head though.
"You've got to relax for me, okay?"
He swallows down another groan, trying instead to follow his friend's instructions. He senses rather than sees that Danny's leaning over him but he still flinches when a hand wraps around his wrist, stroking slowly along to his hand, gently persuading his fingers to unfurl from the fist he's got them curled into.
Fists.
His fists curled in Danny's shirt, pulling him close. An explosion. Fire. Water.
Sharply vivid, the memory hits him like a blow, forcing his eyes open, making him reach out and grab the only thing that seems real in the maelstrom of memories his brain is throwing at him. "Danny—"
"Listen to me, you're okay." His partner's just a blurry figure but there's no mistaking the deep purple bruising on his face, the contrast of a stark white dressing against tanned skin peeking out of the top of his shirt. His heartbeat shoots skywards, his headache going off the scale and he grabs harder, pulling Danny towards the safety of his body, shielding him from the blast.
"Come on, Steve. You need to - Shit. Chin, we're gonna need some help in here—"
Suddenly there's more noise, more movement, more people. He can hear them talking, can hear them trying to reassure him (You're okay, babe. I've got you) but it's not enough to stop years of training instinctively kicking in.
He needs to get out. And he needs to get out now.
It's a hand lightly touching his hair that finally stops him fighting, quiet reassuring words being spoken in his ear. It's enough to make him not resist when they grab his arm to administer a sedative, to let his body relax, to allow the nursing team around his bed to step back and wince at their own bumps and bruises. "Danny—"
"I'm here."
"What happen'd?"
"Ssh, go to sleep. I'll tell you when you wake up again."
The soft brush of lips across his brow finally lets him give in to the effects of the sedative. Closing his eyes he lets himself sink. Down, down, down into the safe cocoon, it's like stepping into the ocean.
It's not until he's nearly all the way down, the voices around him just whispers gently caressing his brain that he remembers that Doris and Cath were on the boat with them.
H50H50H50
The tug of a tie being fixed around his neck forces him to look Danny in the eye. He averts his eyes instantly, swallowing down the ever-present lump in his throat. It's been there ever since he'd woken up in the hospital.
Guilt.
He chose and someone he loved died and no matter which way he looks at it some of that is his fault. Continuously circling, like a vulture picking at the remains, his brain just won't let it go.
"Babe. Stop."
Instinctively he leans into the warmth of Danny's hand, cupped gently around his cheek. Letting out a shaky breath he closes his eyes, breathing in the familiar smell of the man he loves. Automatically his body begins to relax.
And then it freezes again.
Angrily, he pulls away, his heart clenching at Danny's pained intake of breath. This pull and push reaction isn't new. Isn't what he wants. But he doesn't know how to switch it off.
You need to reject in order to protect. That's what his brain is telling him. And despite the anger he's feeling there's logic in there too.
Even if it does mean pushing away the best thing that's ever happened to him.
He's going to keep everyone safe.
H50h50h50h50
The short funeral service is a blur of faces and voices. A group of men and women in Coast Guard uniforms offer their condolences and as Danny talks quietly to them in turn he finally recognises them. They'd been there at the worst moment, the excruciatingly pain from his injuries almost overwhelming him but his mind still desperate to find out where the people he loves are.
With a shiver he pushes down the memory. He's not lying on the cold metal of the helicopter's floor. Shock isn't making his teeth chatter, isn't making his breaths come shallow and fast. He's safe. He's got Danny.
But his mother is dead.
The knowledge hits him like a freight train. Vaguely he hears himself let out a wobbly giggle, hysteria bubbling up. Of course he knows his Mom is gone. He'd watched as the medics had worked over her badly burnt body, had fought to resuscitate her.
This time he really had seen her die.
And this time there's no one else he can really blame. They'd given him a choice. And he'd chosen.
He'd chosen to let his Mom go.
How fucked up does that make his life?
H50H50H50H50
As the elevator announces its arrival at the 2nd floor of the hospital he takes a deep breath and wills his heart to slow.
For some reason he'd thought this would get easier. With a small shake of his head he mocks his misplaced optimism. Seeing someone you love in pain should never be easy (and it is still love, he acknowledges, despite what he has with Danny).
And this is really the furthest thing from easy.
Coming to a halt at his usual spot in the corridor he slowly lowers himself into a chair, biting back a wince as the still healing scars catch again his dress shirt. Danny's hovering nervously, his hand wavering over his shoulder. It's like he's not sure which bit of him to touch.
Don't touch any of me, the logical bit of his brain is screaming. Don't come near me. If you stay you're just asking for it.
Instead Danny just acts like Danny. Stubborn, bull-headed, Danny's hand glides down the back of his black jacket, his fingers tucking under his shirt to lightly caress a patch of skin he knows hasn't been damaged.
Despite himself he leans over sideways, sagging into the reassuring warmth of the man beside him.
"You wanna come and see her?"
Danny already knows the answer to his question but he shakes his head anyway, stiffly pulling himself upright. "I'll wait here."
He senses rather than sees Danny roll his eyes but it's impossible not to notice the sag of his partner's shoulders as he walks away, towards Cath's room.
In his mind's eye he knows what Danny will see in there. The image is burnt clearly in his mind. She might be well on the way to recovery but there are still bruises marring her face and dressings projecting the blast injuries she suffered when the boat exploded.
In an instance his brain starts replaying the images that have been haunting him for weeks. The moment Wo Fat's father's men had thrown him the knife, just out of reach to give them enough time to escape.
Fucking cowards abandoning the sinking ship.
He hadn't spared them a second glance. Didn't even have time to think. Sixty seconds he had before it'd explode, they'd told him. And Danny, his mother and Cath were tied up, metres apart. There was no way he could cover that amount of ground.
As they'd jumped off the boat he could hear them laughing. They'd made it clear before they'd left what he needed to do.
He had to choose.
So he'd chosen.
Closing his eyes in a vain hope that the images will blank out he folds into himself, his fingers running restlessly through his hair. In slow motion he plays through every scenario, working out distances, calculating end results.
In the end he'd cut his own ropes and bolted for Cath. With her arms free she had a chance in the water: he knew she could swim with her feet tied. Swinging to the left he'd cut the ties around Danny's wrists and then grabbed him, putting all his weight behind him, curling round, protecting, twisting his body so that Danny was closest to the water when the explosion hit.
Cath hadn't been so lucky.
And neither had his Mom.
She'd known as soon as he'd moved what he was going to do. He could see it in her eyes, the quiet acceptance, the slight nod. They were there because of her, he understood that. But that hadn't made it any easier.
In that second he'd really understood that she'd loved him. That as his mother she was making a sacrifice.
He doesn't know how he's supposed to live with that.
H50H50H50
Night-time is the worst. With Danny curled up beside him he feels safe. But part of his brain is still telling him that Danny's not safe with him there.
It feels like someone is ripping him in half.
He'd told Mary the same thing after the funeral. Told her, then begged and finally yelled at her, yelled until she'd called him a fuckin' arsehole and stormed out, tears running down her face.
There's been angry texts since then and lots of heated messages on his cell. He got what he wanted, he pushed her away, he's keeping her and Joanie safe.
And he's never felt so lonely and guilty in his life.
An arm curling around his chest, tugging him close, makes the breath hitch in his chest. He loves this, loves this man and now Wo Fat's father has reminded him Danny's made a dangerous choice.
A bad choice.
Steve McGarrett isn't a safe man to love.
Under his skin he can feel the anger he's been suppressing bubbling to the surface. It's like a poison that's slowly been creeping through his veins.
"They made me choose." He forces out the sharply barbed thought against his will, the words ripping open the floodgates, bringing the memories flooding back.
"I know, Babe-"
"What happens if they make me choose again?"
Danny doesn't answer immediately. He can feel him shifting behind him, wrapping his legs around him, pulling him closer, letting his whole body do the talking that his hands usually do. "It won't happen-"
"Danny..."
"Okay, if it happens then we'll deal with it."
There's determination in his tone like there always is. Normally it reassures but tonight it's still not enough. There's something that's been bothering him, something he's been too scared to voice out loud. "What if it's Grace next time, or Charlie or Joanie," he confesses quietly into the darkness. "What if I have to choose between them or you?"
"Then you save the kids. You know that." Danny's tone is edged with anger and before he can resist he's being tugged over, rolled onto his back and Danny's leaning over, glaring into his face. "You know that, right?"
Mutely he nods, hoping Danny can see him in the weak beams of moonlight escaping through the blinds. He doesn't know why he asked now, angry with himself that he's caused Danny to doubt. If it was the kids he wouldn't hesitate. He knows that. And so did his Mom.
It lifts some of the weight from his shoulders, removes some of the pressure. But it's still not enough. There's Danny and there's Mary. And Cath's in hospital because of him and Chin and Kono...
"Stop. Just stop." Danny's carding his fingers through his hair, sticking it up then smoothing it down in a steady rhythm. "They should never have made you choose, Babe. Never. And when I track down them down they'll never make you choose again. But right now you just need to concentrate on one day at a time."
There's a promise in Danny's word. So many things unspoken. There's forever, there's now. There's love and there's a future.
And there's the voice of logic in the back of his brain telling him that it's still too dangerous for Danny to be here.
Instinctively he grabs Danny by the scruff of the neck, pulling him close, claiming his mouth. Danny's huff of surprise tickles his nose, makes him smile as he deepens the kiss. He deepens it even further as Danny curls himself around him, protecting him, his hands gently soothing the scars on his body.
One day at a time, he thinks vaguely, as his brain slowly shuts down.
He's pretty sure he can do that.
And right now he's more than willing to try.