Shallow Grave
Chapter 3
Here's another slightly earlier than planned. Had to stop messing with it before I wrecked it. Thank you, thank you for the reviews, alerts and favorites. They make me feel like maybe I'm not entirely goofing off when I write, (though cats still can't understand why I won't let them sleep on the keyboard and husband complains about late dinners). Picky aren't they?
Disclaimer: Still haven't won lotto. Still make no money from this. Mine in daydreams only.
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Taut Surface
They paused at the heavy sliding-glass doors before requesting entrance.
It seems a little late to ask these questions now. I should have brought them up when we were in the office. Maybe I'm just trying to get more time to adjust to seeing him in lock-up . . . again.
But this isn't like that time Steve was in Halawa. That time, he knew exactly why Steve was there. That time, there was hope for release. This time . . . What am I going to say to the man? What is Steve going to ask of me? Mouth dry and stomach clenched like a fist, Danny grasped the doctor's arm to get his attention.
As the tall doctor turned to him questioningly, Danny blurted out, "Uhh, is there anything I should know before I go see him?"
Caldwell looked at him sympathetically. He could tell this was hard on the diminutive detective. He said in a reassuring voice, "Steve just needs to talk to someone with whom he's comfortable. He's very closed off right now, buttoned-up tight. I've tried to get him to talk to me but haven't been very successful. He needs someone he trusts."
Said Danny almost sadly, "That doesn't sound much different than he is usually. Steve's not the most chatty person I've ever met. Getting him to talk about anything that may be bothering him is like . . . well, it's almost impossible. He's a stubborn bastard."
Taking his hand back from where it had been poised over the intercom button, Caldwell turned and gestured toward an alcove they'd passed on their way.
Retracing their steps, they found a quiet place for the conversation that should probably have taken place in his office. He didn't push it at the time because he didn't want to spook the already nervous looking detective. His patient truly needed someone he could trust. His attempts at engaging the man had been mostly met with silence. The only reaction he'd gotten out of his patient were a few 'yes sirs' or 'no sirs' and maybe a couple of anxious gestures like compulsively rubbing his thumbs over his wrists or wrapping his arms around himself to stop from doing such things. He was like a coiled spring or a bottle of shaken carbonated water just waiting for someone to untwist the cap. The trick was to release it carefully and slowly so there'd be no explosion to harm anyone.
In the small waiting area with its well-used couches and chairs they settled-in for their talk. The doctor sat back comfortably as Williams - once again in the same posture he'd adopted when sitting opposite him in the office - leaned forward, elbows on knees and looked at him worriedly.
"To be honest Danny, even though that stubbornness is counter-productive right now, it may have been the only thing that kept him alive. They didn't think he was going to make it when he was found but . . . it's served its purpose and it's time to get him to let go of it and open up. That's, hopefully, where you can be of help."
Caldwell had previously told him as much as he could about what had happened without breaking the 'classified' rule. Danny knew that Steve had been found very close to death and transported to Germany before arriving in Virginia. A few days ago, he'd been transferred to the unit in which they sat.
"What exactly were his physical injuries?" he asked, already having been informed that Steve was the sole survivor of a group of six. There hadn't been anything on the news about it. Just another fucking classified op, thought the detective.
"As you may know, severe dehydration can lead to kidney damage among other things. He was on dialysis for the first week and a half. Even though he no longer requires it, we have to watch for any complications. We were hoping the electrolyte imbalance was one of the reasons for his other issues but that has proven not to be the case."
"His other issues?" anxiously questioned the blonde.
"The ones that aren't strictly physical" answered Caldwell tiredly removing the eyeglasses he'd donned when they'd left his office. He used his knuckles to rub at his eyes before continuing, "The antibiotics we're still administering for infection due to a serious but survivable knife wound and the result of what look to be repeated beatings should help him quite a bit. Physically, he's not yet entirely back but he's on his way."
Danny nodded silently to acknowledge the information.
"We've also been trying to encourage him to eat a little more than he has. He's probably lost a few pounds since you've last seen him. He should regain those in the next few weeks. There are some dietary supplements, vitamins, maybe a fortified protein drink with additional carbs that should help."
"Super SE . . ., err Steve" corrected the blonde, "usually tries to eat healthy stuff but he's kinda prone to going without eating if we get busy or something is really bothering him."
"It says in his file the commander has eaten very little since he's been back. We certainly don't want to force feed him and I seriously doubt he would tolerate any further I.V's or an NG tube. Maybe one of the first things you can do is to get him to start eating again."
"That probably won't be as easy as it sounds. He has very few, if any, food addictions and we've all tried to corrupt him but the man has convictions of steel and the self-discipline to go with it."
Danny smiled, remembering the numerous verbal sparring matches over Danny's own devotion to malasadas and coco puffs. Steve was always trying to get him to see the error of his ways just as Danny was trying to get him to 'walk on the wild side' as far as an occasional junk food feast.
"You sound like you know your partner pretty well. I'm sure you can get him to loosen up and talk to us. It would certainly help him."
"Don't hold your breath doc. We've been trying to find his 'chatty' button for two years, it may not even exist." grimly smiled the detective.
"But he will talk to you? I mean about something other than the weather or baseball scores?"
"He'll talk about baseball to humor me but, yeah, he's surprised me every once in a while by talking about something deeper but it's been rare. The only one he seems to regularly let his guard down with is my daughter, Grace. The two of them like to plot against me. Sometimes it's like having two nine-year-olds instead of just one."
"That's good to hear though it may not be wise to have your daughter around Steve right now."
"What?" a chill ran down Danny's spine, "He wouldn't hurt her . . . would he?"
"No, no. I'm sure he wouldn't intentionally harm anyone, particularly a child but . . . the flashbacks are pretty intense. He may hurt someone or even himself unintentionally. We just need to take it slow for now."
Taking in Danny's newly distressed expression, he said gently, "It's going to be a long, hard climb back to a healthy place for Steve. Are you sure you're up to this? We can keep him here if we have to. Please don't feel any guilt. I'll understand if you want to back away."
"Nope." said Danny with quiet conviction, "I'm in this all the way. If our roles were reversed, I know Steve would do the same for me, though I'm sure he'd say that not talking isn't my problem." said the blonde detective who for the umpteenth time ran his hand through his carefully styled hair. "I can't abandon him. There've been too many people who've done that already."
"I understand he has no family other than a sister. Are they close?"
"Not very but that's mostly due to circumstance. I know he loves her but she has her own problems. He's always been the strong one for her . . . he's always been the strong one for everybody . . ." Danny's voice trailed off sadly.
"What about his friend, Lieutenant Catherine Rollins? He seemed worried that she'd find out he was here."
"I can't even answer that one to be honest. I think they probably have strong feelings for one another but their careers have kept them apart. I referred to it once as 'friends with benefits' and Steve didn't dispute the term. I don't think even he knows what to call it. I know I don't."
"Well, it's good to hear he's got a strong ally in you." nodded the doctor with sincerity. "With your help, he can get through this. Let's go see him, shall we?"
…
After Caldwell spoke into the intercom to identify himself and visitor, the intimidating doors whooshed open and they walked down another hallway - this one much shorter than the last. Halfway to the end of the corridor they came to a door with a sign over it that read 'Day Room'. The tall doctor and the not so tall detective entered a large open room that would be sunny if there had actually been any sun. With its oversized windows, it was still brighter than the space they'd stepped out of. Danny swept the room looking for his partner, squinting as it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the change in lighting.
In the middle of the large space were a couple of guys playing chess at a game table. A few feet away, another man sat reading in a comfortable looking chair, his slippered feet propped on an ottoman. It took Danny a moment to notice chairs, tables and even the ottoman, (no matter how comfy looking), were fastened to the linoleum floor.
His stomach did another roll at the realization.
In a dim corner of the room sat a lone, dark-haired, figure; posture rigidly upright, head turned toward one of the large windows and staring vacantly out at the gloom.
Caldwell took Danny's elbow to guide him toward the man who seemed lost in thought. The doctor shepherded the detective forward, not letting go of his arm as if worried he would change his mind and bolt from the room. They were nearly to him and he'd not made any indication he even knew they were there.
"Commander?" greeted Caldwell, trying to get Steve's attention.
When there was no response, Danny took a step forward and said "Steven?"
The tall man flinched and turned his head. "Danny?" he greeted uncertainly looking as though he was trying to decide if the man before him was real or not. Then his expressive eyes widened and a slow smile blossomed on his too angular face. "You came!"
"Of course, you idiot. You called, I came. Nothing new there." smiled Danny, desperately wanting to hug his friend but not knowing if the gesture would be welcome right now.
Even during the best of times, Steve wasn't a 'huggy' kind of guy but the SEAL slowly stood and took a step forward, awkwardly lifting his arms to hold them out toward his friend. Danny took a step to close the gap between them and into the offered embrace. They stood silently, arms around each other for a long moment.
"I can't believe you're here." The SEAL breathed out shakily, the side of his gaunt face resting atop the shorter man's blonde hair as his arms tightened around his partner's shoulders.
Danny was actually a little surprised at the action. Steve wasn't of the warmest and fuzziest temperament. He rarely initiated hugs and would begin to squirm uncomfortably if they lasted longer than the minimum and certainly never so tightly and desperately.
The detective also noted that beneath the baggy sweatshirt were angles and ridges indicating the SEAL had lost even more weight than was evident by just his face.
"It's good to see you, buddy. You had us worried." said Danny, his voice almost comically muffled against the other man's chest.
"Sorta had myself worried." replied Steve; speech slower and more deliberate than was his norm. Danny wondered it was due to drugs or something else.
They broke the embrace and stood back to evaluate each other.
The man was nearly the poster child for the word 'unwell'. Dramatically thinner than when he'd last seen him over a month ago and with bluish hollows under eyes and cheekbones his skin appeared nearly translucent. There were other changes as well.
The man drove himself and others at dizzying speed most of the time, but this Steve was different: slower, milder, almost unsure in movements that in the past had been all about confidence, power and grace but now seemed timid, hesitant and awkward. This alarmed Danny almost more than anything else.
"Where's your tie?" asked Steve, sounding genuinely curious.
"Haven't worn one for a while Babe. You finally bullied me into saving it for special occasions." smiled Danny, startled at the observation. He actually hadn't worn one for months before Steve had even left.
The SEAL looked surprised, maybe even a little distressed. "Oh, yeah. I forgot." he mumbled.
"No worries. It made Chin and Kono happy. Gracie didn't seem to mind as long as I promised to wear her favorites every once-in-awhile for ballet recitals and dinner out – even if it's only for pizza. She's been pretty busy lately. We have quite a few things to catch up on when we get back."
Steve only stared blankly back at him. Before, he'd have been asking Danny for updates about the little girl who called him Uncle Steve. He also hadn't asked any questions about Five-0's cases. McGarrett was a nearly infamous control freak, (or at least Danny thought so). This new passivity was unnerving.
"Commander? Steve?" asked Caldwell, getting the tall man's attention on the second try. "Why don't we go back to your room so we can talk a little and tell Danny what's been going on with you? We need to make plans for you to go home."
"Home?" asked Steve with the expression of an eight year old who'd been given the keys to Disneyland.
"Yeah, home Steven. You know the land of lava, ferocious humidity and those freakin' pineapples." smiled Danny.
"Home?" repeated Steve as if not believing it would happen or the place even existed.
"Come on, babe." said Danny, putting a hand on his partner's shoulder, "Let's go talk about breakin' outta this joint."
"Great. That's great, Danny." said Steve with a dazed smile before turning to lead them toward a door that opened out onto another long hallway. Walking slowly, Danny's hand never leaving his partner's shoulder they, finally, came to a stop in front of a door with a small window in it. It was like several others along the corridor. Its only distinction being the number seven stenciled in black paint above the window.
The ten by ten inch window was made of glass but it was the kind that was thickly made and had what looked like chicken wire embedded into it.
"This is, uhh, my room." said Steve gesturing Danny and Caldwell toward the door he pulled open for them. Danny was relieved it wasn't locked. It would finish breaking his heart to find that his friend was locked into a room in an already locked ward. It had to be humiliating for Steve to even be in such a place. The detective's gut churned-on.
They entered a small room sparsely furnished with a bed and nightstand. The lighting was provided by a fixture set into the wall over it. It too was covered with what looked to be indestructible material. A small footlocker was placed at the end of the bed. Danny would bet a week's pay that it was fastened to the floor.
On the far wall, the large window that let in the weak late-afternoon light was made of the same material as the window in the door. On the wall to the left was a doorway that Danny assumed lead to a bathroom.
There was nothing to personalize the space. It was bare and sterile, its only hint of color were the bright red disposable plastic cups that sat next to a yellow plastic pitcher of water on the nightstand.
This looks like a prison, thought Danny, it's no wonder Steve wants outta here so badly.
Caldwell announced, "I'll go get a couple of chairs, be right back." and hurried out the door that clicked shut behind him. Maybe it was only the self-closing mechanism that made the noise but Danny suddenly got a horribly claustrophobic feeling as he realized it may have locked them in.
"So, uhh" began Steve, not seeming to notice his partner's alarm, "You want some water?"
There was absolutely nothing else in the room to offer in the way of hospitality.
"Yeah, sure." answered Danny, "My throat is kind of dry right now."
Steve went to the nightstand and carefully poured water into one of the cups, movements slow but unshaking and extended the plastic tumbler to his partner. "Have a seat, D."
Taking the cup, Danny sat himself down on the edge of the small bed covered with a dark navy bedspread. He almost didn't want to sit on it, seeing how neatly and tightly the covering was stretched over the mattress. No matter how his friend was feeling, neatness was still ingrained in him from his years of service - not to mention what his partner considered the man's own natural OCD tendencies. Danny was sure one could bounce a quarter off its taut surface.
Steve stood looking at him, waiting for his friend to begin a conversation. Danny obliged.
"No offense, Babe but you need to change decorators." he began, gesturing around the small room with the cup before taking a sip.
"It is kinda plain." agreed Steve looking slowly around the space as though for the first time even though he been here for nearly two weeks.
"Plain?" repeated Danny, beginning his usual expansive gestures. "Plain is vanilla, plain is a hot dog without relish, plain is Camilla Parker-Bowles. This is . . . " paused the blonde man, searching for another example of the adjective.
"A cell?" supplied Steve, turning his head toward his friend to look him unblinkingly in the eye.
"Uhh, yeah." said Danny uncomfortably trying not to squirm on the precisely made cot.
"I know." nearly whispered his friend sadly, repeating again even more softly, "I know."
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Please review if you're of a mind. I'd very much like to know your thoughts. Next chapter up in four days.
