OK, I feel like I've committed a crime. After Sockie1000's wonderful story, "Flying", I couldn't stop thinking about her brilliant her idea of Danny's 'ten days'. And then I started wondering what Steve's 'ten days' would be like. Here is what I came up with. Special thanks to Sockie; first, for not reporting me for infringement of her property although I wouldn't have minded Five-0 on my doorstep, second, for giving me her blessing to post this and third, for beta reading. I want to thank Sym64 for the title idea.
~~~H50~~~
Back to the Norm
by Cokie
~~~H50~~~
Danny's viewpoint:
On the tenth day, Steve woke up.
It wasn't dramatic. Unlike the slow motion of the explosion, Steve's return to consciousness was nothing like the movies. The hero didn't wake up, get out of bed, and start fighting the bad guys ten minutes later.
For, you see, Danny's tenth day was Steve's first day.
Steve's viewpoint:
On the first day, Steve woke up. And with all the medical paraphernalia around him, he sensed he was lucky to be alive.
On the second day, the ventilator was removed early in the morning. Who knew simple breathing could be so difficult? Later, the nurse allowed him to sit up for a few minutes. Rooms shouldn't have the ability to tilt and swirl like that. Danny hovered, making Steve feel like he was made of glass.
On the third day, with a raspy voice, Steve asked when he could go home and suffered through everyone's snickering. Guys, it was a valid question. And Danny's "Not today, Babe," was no answer.
On the fourth day – get this. The nurse allowed him to sit on the side of his bed and 'dangle' his legs. Her word. Dangle. How therapeutic. Of course, he ignored the fact that he was so tired afterward that he took a two-hour nap. And then threw up his dinner. Not to mention lunch. Danny just shook his head in sympathy.
On the fifth day he was rewarded with a 'Danny Williams' pep talk' when he complained that they wouldn't let him get out of bed. Danny reminded him that he had only been conscious for less than a week and still had an injured brain. He was told not to expect miracles. In his book, walking across the room should not be considered a miracle.
On the sixth day, Steve was introduced to parallel bars and a big guy named Olaf. He hated both. But it was Olaf's job to teach his bruised brain to show his legs how to walk again. He felt like he was two.
On the seventh day, he finally felt something positive. They took that horrid drain out of his head. When he returned to the room, Danny was there with a present… a can of Spackle in case they needed to plug the hole. Steve was not amused. But afterwards, Chin wheeled him outside and Steve spent an hour with his friends, soaking up the sun. And Grace made lemonade and cupcakes with pink sprinkles just for him.
On the eighth day, he made that walk across the room. On his own two feet. Without falling flat on his face. OK, it was five feet, from the bed to the bathroom door, but he did it. Danny's smile was worth all the sweat and the quivering, unused muscles that screamed at him afterwards.
On the ninth day, he was told that if he continued to progress on schedule, he could go home by the end of the week. There was a God, and He was listening.
But on the tenth day, Steve McGarrett knew he really was going to be OK. For on the tenth day, Danny ranted.
