Happy New Year everyone! I hope you enjoy this new story. Some may not. It takes Steve out of his element and one that I have found challenging to write, but I've also found it motivating. As always, thanks for reading!
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Chapter 1
The commotion around him was chaotic; yet the view above him was calm as he stared up at a group of clouds that floated by, feeling as weightless as they looked.
There was strangely no pain or no fear of death as he had always assumed there would be. There was peacefulness along with an unusual stillness throughout his body. He couldn't move, but he didn't try to either.
His partner leaned over him, blocking his view of another cluster of clouds as they drifted by.
Danny's expression however was not calm, cool or collected. It was strained, worried and highly concerned.
"Steve," he said to him in a commanding voice, "look at me?!"
Steve blinked and casually looked at his partner hovering above him.
"There you go," he smiled. It was the only thing he could do at the moment to keep his friend calm in the terrifying situation. "Help is coming. I can hear it; just hold on, Steve. Hold on Buddy." He looked over in the direction of the sound of sirens that indicated the help he had described, willing them to move their asses.
"Danny," Steve whispered, his voice soft and not reflecting the dire condition he was in. The blood on the ground seeping from his body began to form a red river that flowed toward his feet.
Danny looked back down at him, gripping tighter to his hand and pressing the towel against his back over the most dire of the two wounds; he tried to smile but his eyes showed the fear that was engulfing him. "What, Steve?"
"The woman," he said between gasping breaths, "he took a woman hostage."
Danny shook his head, "No he didn't. He tried, but I got him. I laid him out with one shot. The woman's fine," he reassured him, not surprised that he'd ask that question as he laid there with two bullets in his back, draining the life out of him.
He felt relieved over that, looking back up at the sky that for some reason held a calming effect, reminding him of being out on his surfboard and just laying back and waiting for the next group of waves to come, hoping to catch one all the way back to shore. He'd only been able to do it once, closing his eyes as the feel of the ocean rocking him began to put him to sleep.
His face was growing paler by the second as the look of death became more evident.
"Steve!" Danny's voice shouted as the grip tightened. "Steve! Open your eyes!" He put a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him. "Goddamnit, wake up!" his voice choked, refusing the first impulsive move to check the pulse on his neck. "Steve!" he shouted again.
He heard the call and opened his eyes back up, seeing Danny smile through panicked eyes, never seeing so much fear on his partner before.
"Ok," Danny said, bowing his head, thanking whatever God was listening for that small achievement.
"I'm sorry, Danny," he said to him for causing so much stress.
"Sorry for what?" he argued, sitting down on the ground next to him. The Paramedics had arrived and were quickly unloading their equipment as fellow officers hurried them along, pointing in the direction of their fallen comrade. "You saved that guy's life whose now standing over by the Police car puking his guts out over the fact that he should be in a body bag." He squeezed his hand that he held in a bro style, "I should kick your butt for what you did, but I think two slugs is punishment enough."
Steve vaguely heard what he said, feeling himself falling under the spell of sleep once again, closing his eyes. There was peace all around him, not paying attention anymore to Danny's demanding pleas to open his eyes. He just wanted to sleep…so he did.
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There was a slight chill in the room as he opened his eyes, looking up toward the sky, expecting to see the clouds once again, but instead it was white tile paneling's with recessed lighting that was dimmed down to a comfortable level, barely giving the room enough light to move about freely in the darkness.
He went to turn his head and felt a resistance, looking down the bridge of his nose at the tube coming from his mouth. He went to lift his right hand and felt the same struggle from the IV that came out of the back of his wrist, following the path of the tube with his eyes that ran up a steel pole and into a bag. He tried to move his left hand, but felt nothing, assured it was also restrained, the same as his legs that felt numb, attributing it to the drugs he was sure that were coursing throughout his body from the ordeal.
He tried to recall being moved from the ground after being shot, but had no recollection of it, wondering how long he'd been where he was. He was alive, that was all he knew and that was all he needed to know at the moment. He was in the hospital and he was alive.
There was a whirring sound that came from over his head he as looked up to where the sound came from, but within seconds he felt a calmness overcome him that was euphoric, sending him once again into a peaceful rest.
Danny came in through the door seconds later, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and bagel between his teeth, carefully and as quietly as he could closing the door with his other hand.
He looked at the sleeping body lying in the bed that hadn't stirred in two days since the operation, but he was told adamantly that it was normal. The body needed time to heal and all the extra energy was focused on strengthening the core of the injury and with all the medication that was being injected to fight off an infection, they would be surprised if he woke up within the first three days.
Danny sat down in the chair by the bed that had practically formed to his backside from being occupied for so long. He took a bite of the bagel before taking it out of his mouth, washing it down with a drink of the coffee that had cooled from the trip up from the 2nd floor cafeteria. He had been thankful for the twenty four hour establishment, even though late night hours only consisted of pastries, coffee and some packaged salads and sandwiches, it had helped fight off the boredom over the long, boring nights.
He heard his phone buzz on the table next to him, alerting him of an incoming text, switching places with it and the cup of coffee.
"Hey, just checking in. Any movement?" Chin texted.
Danny put the bagel between his teeth again, not yet mastering the one handed texting technique.
"He's sleeping like a baby. What are you doing up so late?" he replied, taking another bite and setting the phone on his thigh and then reached for the coffee. He could see in the display that he was writing back, waiting patiently for the response.
It came just seconds later. "Same as you."
Danny huffed and then smiled, mumbling to himself, "I'm sitting up in a chair, eating a stale bagel and lukewarm coffee, take advantage of your bed." He set the items in his hands back down and replied almost that very same sentence.
He glanced up at Steve while waiting for the reply that didn't seem to be coming according to the phone display, wondering if maybe Chin had taken his advice.
The door to the room opened and he looked over his shoulder as Chin came in.
They both grinned at each other over the joke, "Ok, now I get it, you are the same as me."
He closed the door quietly, "I couldn't sleep," he explained, coming up beside the chair. "I haven't really slept in two days. I decided the best place for me was here, same as you."
"There's another chair by the window," he pointed, "pull it over and have a seat."
He did just that, commenting on the food in Danny's hands. "Where did you get that?"
"2nd floor," he said with a mouthful. "Not bad. A little stale but edible."
"Hmm," Chin moaned, sitting down and debating whether or not he'd make the trek or not to the 2nd floor. He looked at Steve and his focus immediately changed gears. He stood back up and went to the bed, looking down on his friend and Boss. "His color looks better."
Danny nodded in agreement, "Look at his hands too, their not so swollen anymore. That's a good sign the nurse said."
"Maybe the paralysis won't be as bad as they think."
Danny drank the last of his coffee and stood up, moving next to him. "They only speculate and won't give an answer until he wakes up and they can examine him, but I have a bad feeling they already know the diagnose but are just hanging on for hope."
"I can't even imagine what it's going to do to him," Chin said grimly, not even being able to comprehend if it was he lying there and being told his legs and left arm were paralyzed.
Danny reached through the bars and put a gentle hand on Steve's arm that had the IV going into it. "Time. Work. That's what's he's going to need. Time to heal, and working through it."
"And support," Chin added.
"And tremendous support," Danny agreed, "but he's got that. More than he'll possibly need."
Chin nodded his agreement this time. "I just don't know if I can be here when they tell him."
Danny looked over at the uneasy expression on his face, knowing he felt bad for that, but couldn't blame him for not wanting to be there. "I know. You don't have to be," he said, letting him off the hook and any guilt he might be feeling from it. "I'll be here."
Chin didn't have to be told to know that Danny would be there when the time came. It was as assured as him being by his side since the tragic ordeal had begun. They would all give their support, but they all knew too that it would be Danny's that Steve would rely on and need the most. And they were all equally confident that he would succeed in supplying it, no matter the cost to himself.
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Danny's head bobbed and then fell forward, causing him to startle and almost fall out of the chair he was in. His arms quickly came out of the crossed position and gripped the sides of the chair, steadying himself. He chuckled slightly and shifted his position, glancing at his watch.
He stretched his arms over his head and decided this was a good time to head home for a quick shower and nap, wanting to be back before the doctor made his rounds.
He stood and noticed the pair of sleepy eyes watching him from the bed.
"Steve!" he said happily but with a cautious tone, keeping the level of his voice down. "Hey Buddy." He reached through the bars touching his bare arm. The eyes that followed him were glazed over and heavy as he slowly blinked. Danny wasn't sure if it was a sign of slowly waking, or of falling back into a peaceful slumber.
"Hold on, ok? I'll get the nurse." He fumbled with the call box that dangled from the side of the bed, pushing buttons until he heard a voice through the small intercom.
"Is everything alright, Mr. Williams?"
"Yes! He's awake. Can someone please come in here?"
As he replaced the call monitor back into its slot on the bed, he almost regretted his impulsive decision, what if this was it? What if this was the precise time that they would find out the diagnose that was on everyone's mind. He looked back down at Steve, hoping he'd gone back to sleep but he hadn't. He lied still with the breathing tube still attached, watching him intently as if wanting to ask multiple questions but couldn't.
Danny leaned back over so their line of sight was easier for Steve to achieve.
"You're in the hospital," he said to him, assuming the quizzical expression was from confusion of where he was and how he had got there. "I don't know what you remember, but you were shot in the back, twice. We almost lost you, but you're alive and are here to drive me crazy for another day," he joked, smiling at him, seeing a slight edge to the corner of Steve's mouth curl over that remark, which in turn made Danny smile even wider.
The moment was interrupted as a nurse entered the room. She ignored Danny as he stepped away from the bed, her attention focused on Steve. She made eye contact with him as she moved in to where Danny had been standing.
"Hi Steve," she smiled, touching his hand, "my name is Cheryl. Are you in any immediate pain?" she asked him.
He shook his head slightly, indicating he felt ok.
"That's good," she smiled. "I notified the surgeon on duty that you were awake and he's on his way down. We're going to hopefully get that annoying tube out of your mouth so you can talk. Don't be alarmed if your voice is raspy for a couple of days, that's normal. I want you to just lie still and don't try to move around ok?"
His eyes narrowed, wanting to inform her that he couldn't move, that's what had him concerned. He couldn't feel his left hand nor could her feel his legs. He wanted someone to tell him it was temporary and just a normal paralysis from the operation, maybe swelling on his nerves perhaps he thought anxiously.
He closed his eyes again, trying with all his might to wiggle his toes or fingers, but it felt as though the signal that was so clearly ordering the feat in his mind was severed someplace between his spinal cord and the actual nerve endings.
He opened his eyes again and looked at Danny stressing his concern. He reached out with his right hand over to his left, to show him, but the nurse took a hold of it, setting it back down in its original place.
"You mustn't move, Steve. You have an IV in your hand. We don't want to tear it."
He gave up on her and made eye contact with Danny again, using his eyes to guide him to his legs, looking that way and then back at him, repeating it, all the while the distress in his expression told of his concern.
Danny didn't need a verbal explanation to understand what he was saying, or asking perhaps. He reached through the bars and lay a firm hand on Steve's arm, "Just relax. You might feel different right now," he said, not wanting to sugar coat it, nor stress him out anymore than he already looked, "but it's going to be ok." He tapped his arm assuring him once again.
He had tried to keep a positive attitude in hopes that odds would turn out in Steve's favor, but those odds were beginning to slip in a direction that would not only be devastating to himself, but he was pretty certain it would tear Steve apart in ways that he couldn't even imagine. The first sign of that threat was visible on his friend's face as the diagnose they had all be fearing was beginning to come to light, and it wasn't good, but he couldn't bring himself to focus on the negativity but only assure him that no matter the outcome that everything was going to be ok. He'd survived the shooting, and in time, he'd survive this too.
The door opened and a dark haired man with a slight five o'clock shadow and a deep Hawaiian tan entered. He had a stethoscope in his right hand and a computer tablet in the other. He looked to be no older than Steve or Danny.
"Mr. McGarrett," he said, coming up to the bed and looking down at Steve, "welcome back to the real world. I hope your medicated vacation was a pleasant one," he smiled. "I'm Dr. Kidder, but you can call me Matt, just don't call me fat Matt, or claim that I sat on a rat, like the kids in school used to do," he joked. "I hated that."
Steve let out grunt over the highly unanticipated silliness, immediately feeling at ease with him. The joking doctor and Danny's statement eased him down from the anxiety that had begun to engulf him.
Matt pulled up his tablet and typed in Steve's room number, which brought up his chart. He bobbed his head back and forth in a casual way as he became reacquainted with his injury.
"Ok," he said, setting the tablet on the table by his bed. "Let's get a look at that breathing tube and maybe free you up."
Danny stood back out of the way as he examined Steve's lungs and after a few minutes decided it could be removed. The nurse stood on the other side assisting, as they pulled out the long hose in one quick motion.
She held a glass of water, putting the straw up to his lips as he took a couple of sips, wincing as it hit his dry throat.
"Better?" Dr. Kidder asked with an easy grin.
Steve nodded, "Better," he whispered and then coughed, his voice raspy and weak just as the nurse had described. He laid his head back on the pillow, letting the pain in back subside, looking up at the doctor. "My legs," he said almost breathless, "my arm," he motioned with his head and eyes to his left hand. "I can't feel them." He looked back up at him, waiting for the medical reasoning for what he hoped was just a temporary paralysis.
Danny swallowed hard, looking from Steve to the Doctor anticipating the answer as well, every muscle in his body taught with the hopeful explanation.
Matt reached over Steve's bed and pushed a button that lowered it down. Once at the level he preferred, he pulled up the chair that Danny had been occupying for days and sat down, eye level with Steve. All playfulness disappeared from his expression, replaced with a seriousness that filled the air with the magnitude of the conversation they were about to have.
Steve couldn't feel his legs or arm, but he felt every other nerve ending in his body tighten as the air left his body, taking in a deep breath trying to fight off the anxiety that he was sure now was true to his belief. His right hand folded into a tight fist, bracing himself for the news that was going to change his life forever, but also in that split second of the unknown he swore to himself that he wouldn't let it break him either.
Danny moved to the other side of the bed feeling every bit of the anxiety that Steve was. It wasn't physically happening to him, but emotionally it was just as nerve racking.
He could see the strength that was always so apparent on his partner, but underneath the firm jaw line that was taught and clenched at the moment, he could also see the hint of fear in his eyes that he was desperately trying to hide. He could almost see him building up that wall of resilience that had become his norm. It didn't matter, he thought knowingly, good news or bad news, Steve wouldn't flinch; he'd bet his life on it.
Matt leaned over with his elbows resting on his knees, cursing Dr. Aldridge's son for breaking his leg the night before at the high school football game, therefore his father unable to make rounds, which put him in the very spot he was, having to deliver the bad news to his patient that not only was he paralyzed but that another surgery was imminent due to the remaining bullet that was lodged between the T11 and T12 vertebrae. The only saving grace was that there was a chance of recovery, no matter how slight; there was still a chance.
"Steve," he began, looking him dead on, "first off let me say the surgery was a success in the fact that you are alive and breathing on your own, which is a huge success." He always thought it best to start off on a positive note before delivering the bad news. "However, one of the bullets is still lodged in your spinal cord which is causing the paralysis to your arm and legs."
"So when are you going to take it out?" he asked, feeling a sense of relief, accepting the idea that he'd need another operation, but it would also mean complete recovery, or so he thought.
Matt shook his head, "Its not that easy. We're not sure we can take it out."
Steve felt his relaxed body tense up again, "Why? Why not?"
"It's positioned in an area that could do more damage that it already has. If we try and go in and remove it, the repair could cause a spinal injury that could leave you paralyzed from the neck down, as of right now you have full use of your right hand and the center core of your body, we don't want to risk losing that as well?"
"So…" Steve began, feeling lightheaded, "so this is it?" his breathing began to escalate, "this is as good as it's going to get?" In his peripheral vision, he saw Danny move closer to his side.
"That's not necessarily true," Dr. Kidder quickly replied. "We'll begin physical therapy as soon as you are able. Keeping up your health and strength are vital in these situations to keep the spinal cord from deteriorating anymore. You have a foreign object embedded in your spine that does not belong there. Your body will fight to remove it if it has the strength to do so, or…" he said with a slice of warning in his voice, "your spine will weaken because it doesn't have the ability to fight off an infection because of the lack of agility. In other words, if you don't keep yourself strong and healthy then yes, this is as good as it gets, and maybe worse."
"So hold on," Danny blurted out, putting his hands up as if trying to get everything he just said into perspective. "So its not permanent? That's what you're saying, right?"
Matt looked back down at Steve as he answered Danny's question. "I don't believe in never or permanent in cases such as yours. I do however believe in the power of one person's will to overcome their crisis." He narrowed his eyes, stressing his next words to Steve. "I've seen you on the news. I've read over your medical records and know of your history both for the Honolulu Police Department and in the military. I don't see you as the type of man who just lies down and takes it. I see you as a fighter, Steve. You need to channel that warrior, if you will, inside of you and fight for your life. I'm not promising you a miracle, but through hard work and the will to overcome, I've seen miraculous things happen to ordinary people. And the one thing I've realized about you," he grinned, "you are by no means ordinary."
Danny huffed, "You got that right. I call him Superman," he laughed, gently slapping Steve on the shoulder. "He thinks he's invincible, maybe all this time I've been wrong about you," he smiled, "maybe you are the man of steel. It sounds to me like its all up to you whether or not you are, or aren't."
Matt smiled up at him, glad to know that Steve had someone like Danny that could keep him on the straight and narrow path to recovery, regardless of whatever final physical outcome that may be, Dr. Kidder knew without a doubt that there would be dark days ahead in that journey, very dark days.
Steve took in all the information given to him, sorting through it and pushing out the negative, focusing on the positive words from Dr. Kidder. He had a long way to go before he'd be 100% again, but felt a wave of superiority over the bullet that was lodged in his spine. He knew his body better than anyone, and knew without a doubt, just like Matt had predicted, that he could overcome this. He looked up at him with a stern glare of determination in his eyes, "How soon can I start physical therapy?"
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Kono stood next to the bed with her hand through the bars touching Steve's arm. "Do you need anything? I mean, clothes, shaving stuff?"
Steve shook his head, "No, I'm good. Thanks though." He smiled up at her, "Don't look so worried, Kono. I'll be back to work barking orders in no time, believe me."
The tense look on her face relaxed, "I know. It's just not the same when you're not around."
"You miss me?!" he said cheerfully, looking over at Danny. "I bet that doesn't go for everyone."
"Don't believe that for a second," Danny defended himself. "You know how much I hate being in charge of paperwork, so yes I do miss you, A LOT!"
"Don't screw up my system either. I have it organized perfectly."
Danny rolled his eyes, "Yea, yea, I know. I won't." He went toward the door, "Kono we have to take off." He looked down at Steve, "I'll be back tonight after work sometime."
Steve felt Kono squeeze his right arm. "You look good," she smiled. "Just take it easy and don't over do it," she said of the physical therapy.
"I won't," he said to appease her, but had every intention of getting the most out of every session and going above and beyond what they expected of him, no matter the pain or weariness that evolved from it. He was going to make a miraculous recovery just as Dr. Kidder had mentioned.
Danny held the door open for her as they both gave one more hand-raising goodbye before walking down the corridor towards the elevators.
"Hey, I'm going to use the head before we leave," Danny said to her, pointing toward the restrooms sign. "I'll meet you back at the station."
Kono signaled her acknowledgement with a hand as she jumped on the elevator that was just about to close.
Danny came out of the restroom a couple minutes later, making his way over to the elevator when he heard a familiar voice that sounded tense, looking over in the direction of a room that housed medical supplies, the door slightly ajar, but open enough to see Dr. Kidder and hear the argument going on between him and another man.
"You gave out misinformation to my patient," the other voice said in the same stressed tone.
"That's absolutely not true," Matt argued. "I told him to fight for his life and to not give up hope. You just want them to lie there and let medication mask the problem. He needs to know he has a chance! He deserves the right to at least feel he can make a difference in his recovery besides being confined to a wheelchair!"
"His chances of walking again are slim," the other voice growled, "you give hope, but you crossed the line on this one. At best he'll get the use of his left arm, at best!"
Danny took a step toward the door, seeing the two men switch positions and Steve's surgeon from the day of the shooting come into view through the crack as Dr. Kidder disappeared.
"Why tell him that?" Matt argued. "Why not let him know he at least has a chance?"
"The only chance he has is if we do another operation to remove the other bullet and you know as well as I do that is too risky. Telling him he could walk again is like telling a man with no legs he could run a marathon!" his voice clearly becoming agitated. "There is no connection there! Do I have to point the wound out to you on the x-rays Dr. Kidder, like you're a first year med student?"
"The stronger he is the more likely another operation in time could be successful. Why do you think old school? Even if he never walks again, why not give him the mindset to be stronger both physically and mentally? Do I have to point out to you the benefits of exercise on patients that experience paralysis like you're a first year med student?" he bellowed.
"Stay away from my patients," Dr. Carney warned in a low threatening voice. "I'm going to talk to administration about you. You come in here with three years under your belt, but I have thirty! Don't try and lecture me about medicine!"
"I'm just…"
"Conversation over!" Dr. Carney growled, swinging the door open and walking down the corridor away from where Danny was standing. His face flushed with anger.
Danny stood by the corner wall, able to see Dr. Kidder leaning against a table as he wiped his hands up and down his face, clearly distraught himself from the confrontation. Danny didn't have to hear Steve's name to know they were talking about him. He stared at Matt, wanting to go in there and punch him square in the jaw for giving Steve, hell, for giving all of them false hope. He led them to believe that Steve could walk again, but after hearing from the man that had actually saved Steve's life and given what use he had of his body, he felt all that confidence that had been instilled from Dr. Kidder quickly fade.
Matt pushed off the table and froze in his tracks, seeing Danny across the way staring at him. It wasn't the shock over him possibly hearing the conversation between he and Dr. Carney, as it was the enraged glare that was coming from him. He was quite certain that if he were within reaching distance of the man that his nose would be bloodied.
Danny finally turned and walked away, making his way toward the elevators but kept going, seeing a row of four vacant chairs and taking advantage of one of them, his legs feeling weak over the current condition of his partner and best friend.
He sat down and leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. The first image that flashed before him was Steve in a wheelchair. The sight sickened him and he quickly sat up and leaned over, bracing his elbows on his knees as his hands went through his hair, wondering where in the hell they went from here. Time wasn't his friend anymore; time was his enemy because at that moment Steve was being updated and the quote that 'time heals all wounds' had just flown out the window; time was now ticking down of his next visit and how he was going to talk him through this. At the moment he had no idea.