Summary: Steve discovers—the hard way—that it isn't safe to swim alone when he's suffering from radiation poisoning. Danny volunteers to be his lifeguard.
Hurt and Comfort in Hawaii
Story 2
PenPatronus
Lifeguard
Danny returned to Steve's house just after dawn the morning following Jerry's party. The pair only shared brief conversations the night before, and exchanged not one word after Steve admitted the secret that he was sick from radiation poisoning. Danny didn't sleep. He didn't even try to. A moment after he put Charlie to bed he got online and spent the entire night learning everything he could about uranium poisoning. Repeatedly he told himself that the more research he did, the more he understood, the more he was to predict what to expect, then the better he'd feel.
In the morning, Charlie emerged from his bedroom to find his father sitting on the kitchen floor, head between his knees, weeping.
The drive from his house to Rachel's, and then from Rachel's to Steve's gave Danny time to pull himself together. Although his eyes were still bloodshot when he checked his reflection, his tears had dried up and his face was no longer pale. Collected, poised, determined to act like everything was and would be perfectly fine, Danny picked up the protein smoothie he'd bought for his partner and headed into the house without knocking.
"Brought breakfast, babe!" Danny called. "Something to hold you over until I make us bacon, eggs, and coffee. Where you at?" Danny noticed the dishes piled up in Steve's sink, the overflowing trashcan in the doorframe, the chairs still arranged in the living room. Usually his partner stayed up late cleaning after a party. The Navy man couldn't sleep if there was one dust bunny in his space. Danny put his keys on the counter and frowned at the silence. "Steve?"
Sunlight shone brighter through the open door to the backyard. Water beyond the green grass and wooden chairs sparkled with whites and blues. He noticed the red, first. Red shorts, red blood. A body lay face down on the sand, half in and half out of the water. The concoction of ice, water, kale, strawberries, bananas, raspberries, blueberries, wheat grass, and protein powder exploded at Danny's feet when he dropped the cup, shocked. "Steve!"
He must have run Olympic-fast, faster than he ever had in his life, because one minute, Danny was looking at his unmoving partner and the next, he was on his knees in the wet sand. "You better be breathing," Danny said, "because I'm not giving you CPR. Hell, no, am I giving you CPR!" Trembling hands slid under Steve's bare chest like crowbars and flipped him over onto his back. Blood leaked from the SEAL's nose and mixed with the saltwater into a glittering pink.
Danny almost fainted with relief when Steve McGarrett's brilliant blue eyes blinked up at him and he whispered, "Hey."
"Well, hi there!" Danny greeted with artificial sincerity. "Good morning, Steven, are you drowning? You look like you're drowning."
McGarrett coughed once and licked his sunburned lips. Waterdrops hovered on the tips of his eyelashes. "I, uh…" he began. "I was just out for a swim. Do it every morning. And…"
Danny couldn't stop himself from touching every inch of visible skin as if Steve was hiding a weapon. "And then…?" he prompted. "I don't see any shark bites. No jellyfish stings. No barbs or fangs or gunshot wounds. Did you just feel like pretending to be a dead fish or—I don't know—did something go wrong?" Danny's face turned red, and it had nothing to do with the sun. "Is it my imagination or does that vomit floating in the foam belong to you?"
Steve rolled his eyes. "This has never happened before, Danny. It's never been a problem."
Danny shifted, unapologetically, into full-on Mother Hen mode. It didn't escape his notice that Steve hadn't even tried to stop the bleeding, let alone sit up. "Let me guess what happened, Steven," he hissed. "You went for a swim—alone. And while you were swimming alone, alone and without a lifejacket—alone, lifejacket-less, and suffering from horrendous radiation poisoning—you puked, you started bleeding and then, when you were dogpaddling back to shore, the fatigue hit. It hit you hard, so hard that you almost passed out."
"Well done, Sherlock," Steve mumbled. "Where's my towel—"
"I'm not finished!" Danny bellowed. "You fainted a minute, no, seconds after you reached shallow water. What if I hadn't shown up before the tide came in? What if this had happened while you were driving? Or surfing? Or flying a helicopter? Or when you jumped on that truck?" Danny wanted to hit or throw something, but all he could reach for was a handful of wet sand. Frustrated, downright irate, he heaved the handful at a passing seagull. "You're not driving. You're not driving until you can prove to me that you won't get yourself killed. And you're not swimming—not alone, you hear me? You need a lifeguard on McGarrett beach, then I'm there, all right? But promise. Swear on my daughter's soul that you won't swim alone!"
Danny was so busy shouting that he didn't notice Steve's eyes slide shut. When he did, a new wave of terror sent goosebumps up the back of his neck. His voice softened. "Steve. Babe?" Danny shook his partner's shoulders. "Steve, stay awake. Stay awake."
"Mmm," his partner hummed in reply.
Danny felt Steve's white cheek, and then his forehead. "God. You're burning up." He ripped off his narrow black tie, wrapped it around his hand, and pressed the fabric to Steve's nose. "Gotta get you to a hospital."
"No." Steve swatted the tie away and grabbed his partner's wrist. "No need. Nothing they can do, anyway. Have to wait this out… Let the meds do their thing." Steve's grip loosened, then failed. Danny caught his hand before it splashed back into the water. "Another minute and I'll feel fine. Just need one more minute…"
Silence followed a frustrated sigh. Gently, Danny rested his chin on the back of Steve's trembling hand. Saltwater filled his shoes. Garbage-scented seaweed got caught on Steve's swim trunks. A ghost crab skittered past.
60 seconds passed. 120. Four minutes.
Danny poured on the sarcasm. "Wow, look at you. Think you moved a finger. Slow down, Steve, don't wear yourself out."
Steve used his opposite hand to cover his eyes like a mask. Both his lower lip and chin quaked. His breath hitched and his Adam's apple bounced. It was such an intimate moment of vulnerability that Danny couldn't help but look away. He scraped off the seaweed and lobbed it over the crab's skull.
Steve spoke after another 60 seconds. "I don't know how to do this… I don't know how to be this."
Danny pressed his lips together tight. The space between his eyebrows crinkled like wrapping paper. "Be what, babe?"
"Be sick. Crippled. Handicapped. Helpless… Dependent."
Emotion shrunk Danny's airway. "I don't know what to do when you're sick," he admitted. "Point me at a bad guy to shoot or a pill to give you—"
"Or a liver," Steve snorted softly.
"If I could, I'd trade places with you in a second. Less than a second. You know I would." Danny shook his head and tightened the muscles where their fingers interlaced. "Tell me what I can do, Steve. You gotta tell me how I can help. I'm going crazy over here."
McGarrett lowered his hand. Tears hovered on the edges of his eyes, but didn't drip. "Do me a favor—can you just… Just stay here for a while? Just until I can, uh, sit up? Maybe until I can walk back into the house? I'm not asking you to bring me breakfast in bed or make me soup or put me to the couch, but—"
"Steven." The way Danny said his name instantly shut him up. Danny immediately tossed his shoes aside and lay down flat, fully clothed in the shallow water, parallel to Steve. "I'm not going anywhere," Danny promised.
Nothing in the apathetic blue sky above noticed the pair. The sand, the sun, the water, none of it cared that Steve McGarrett was suffering. The whales, the sharks, and the fish didn't care that Danny Williams' heart was pumping the way it did when he got claustrophobic. The earth continued to spin. Tourists continued to surf and take selfies. Hawaii kept smiling.
And then Steve said, so softly that Danny could've mistaken his voice for the breeze, "This could kill me, Danno," he croaked. "It is killing me."
Articles and blogs and forum posts flashed through Danny's memory. "I know. Did my homework last night. I… I know…" he whispered. "But whatever happens…" Danny pointed at the pair of them lying shoulder-to-shoulder in the muck. "Whatever happens, Steve, I swear—I swear I'll be right here." Danny spoke the next phrase like a vow. "I will not let you drown."
The End
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