A/N: I apologise for this post being late. I am redecorating my room - painting a wall and a desk, building a bookshelf, and putting mosaics on my writing desk. That, and more trips to the doctor, leave me with precious time to write right now. Hopefully it will settle down in a couple of weeks.

Thanks everyone for your reviews.

jlmayer: Yes, Wanda does still have to work on accepting how people react. I'm basing her reaction om mine when I started losing my disability and people started focusing on what I couldn't do rather than what I could.

Daisyangel: Thanks for your offer. I'll be in touch when I have time to get back to writing.

Two days later, Danny Reagan was singing.
"Why am I waiting? Why am I waiting?" His fist beat a matching rhythm against the bedspread.
He heard shuffling footsteps approaching. "Mr Reagan."
"Hello, Dr Ungeretti. So, when am I going home?"
"I've had a look at your notes. According to the nurses, you're sleeping well and taking less pain relief than you were when you woke up. You've also been more than 24 hours free of fever. So I'm discharging you medically. Since the nurses have been getting you up periodically and they say that you're handling that well, you don't need to see a Physical Therapist. In fact, you can go home as soon as you've seen an OT, and a counselor. I see that the OT is scheduled for today. But it's unlikely that the other referral will be actioned today." Danny heard a rustle of paper and the faint scratching of a pen. "You won't be discharged before the outcomes of those appointments are known, so you're with us until then. If there are no questions, I will see you tomorrow morning."
"Yes, I have a question. Actually, I have two. What does an OT do? And why do I have to see a counselor?"
"An OT is an Occupational Therapist. Their job is to assess you in your normal daily activities to see what modifications and extra tools you need to function now that you are blind."
"But you said this wasn't permanent!" Danny protested.
"I said that only time would tell if was permanent. If you remember the statistics I gave you, there is a less than 5% chance that you will regain any useful sight."
"Yes, I remember those numbers, and even a kindergartener knows they added up to more than 100%! If you can't even get the maths right, why should I believe anything else you say?"
"I've got to get on with the rest of my rounds now. I have to see patients who will actually appreciate my input." There was a definite icy edge to the doctor's voice. "I'll leave orders with the nurse to arrange those other appointments for you. See you tomorrow morning."
Danny was just getting comfortable again when he was disturbed by his private bedroom door opening and a bag banging against something.
"Hello, Mr Reagan." Danny sleepily turned toward the voice. "I am Rufus Jernigan."
"Hello Rufus Jernigan," Danny greeted warily. "Who are you and what do you want?" He wasn't used to being in hospital, and people here had a habit of disturbing patients at all times of the day and night - and usually for nothing important enough to be disturbed for.
"I'm an Occupational Therapist. I'm here to assess what you need to get you home."
"Awesome!" Now wide awake, Danny pushed the bedclothes of his legs. "Let's go."
"Whoa! Am I about to get flashed?"
"Huh?" Danny's forehead crinkled.
Rufus repeated the question.
Danny started pulling at the material covering his shoulders and sighed as he realised he was wearing a backless hospital gown that was separate right to the floor. "I need a front-tying hospital gown," he declared. After a lengthy silence he demanded, "Hello! Is anybody there?"
"Yes, I am," Rufus assured him.
"Can you go get the gown, please?" A hint of impatience could still be heard in Danny's voice.
"How about you press the button to call the nurse?" Rufus countered. "Ask them to get it for you. While they're gone we can have a talk about what you can expect in the first few days after you get home."
Sighing, Danny retrieved the call button and pressed it forcefully. "They'll probably take a while," he said. "They hardly ever answer straight away. Did you think of that? What are we going to do in the meantime if we run out of things to talk about?" he groused.
"We can play Pea-Knuckle. So, have you thought about what practical tools you might need to help you adjust to your new lifestyle?"
"Oh, but this isn't permanent." Danny touched his eyes, as if them feeling something would make his statement come true immediately.
"But it won't be resolved tomorrow, will it?"
Further conversation was interrupted by the prompt arrival of the nurse. "Hi, Mr Reagan," she greeted chirpily. "How can I help you?"
"I need a front tying gown. We're going for a walk." Then he remembered his manners and introduced his visitor.
"Hi, Rufus. I'm Danny's nurse, Faith Fittey." The greeting was delivered in a tone that led Danny to infer that the nurse had more than a little bit of a crush on Rufus. With no answer forthcoming, the nurse left and arrived back in short order. "Is this what you're looking for?"
There was another tense silence before Rufus finally directed the question specifically to Danny. Danny took a deep breath. There must be a trick to this. He held his hand out.
"Can I have it, please?" Faith did so, then she started detaching Danny from the IV that had been administering his medications.
Danny held the gown and ran a hand over it. He found the ties and the tag that denoted the back of the garment. Satisfied it was what he had asked for he located one of the arm holes and, after fumbling a bit, he finally got the gown on. "Okay. So what do I do now?"
"How did you do that?" Rufus asked, astonished that Danny had accomplished in seconds a task that other people Rufus had worked with took weeks to master.
"I'm a cop," Danny said. "I got used to getting dressed in the dark because of night shifts and not wanting to disturb the wife and kids."
"Wow. So, are you ready to get up?" Rufus asked.
"Is there anything else?" Faith interrupted, but once again Danny had the feeling that it wasn't him that was being talked to. "No? In that case, I'll get back to my duties. Danny, a nurse will be in later to take the cannula out of your arm."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
"Okay, Danny. I see that the nurses have had you up, so I'm sure you know the process of getting up. But I'm also sure you know all about bureaucracy." Danny snorted. "So you'll understand when I ask you to talk me through it as you do it so I can tick it off my list that you know you know what you're doing, and this isn't just a one-off success."
"Absolutely, I understand completely," Danny sympathised. "First, I'm going to get out on the left side because the call button and bed control are on the right, and I don't want to shift them and not know where they are when I get back."
"Smart choice," Rufus approved.
Talking all the time, Danny cleared his path of all obstacles, calculated the distance between himself and the edge of the bed, braced himself, and slowly rotated his body until his legs were dangling over the side of the bed. Inching forward until his feet were on the ground, he stood up and shuffled over to the armchair in the far corner of the room.
"Do you always walk like you're skiing?" Rufus had followed behind Danny so his curious question came from a place very close to Danny's face.
"I do for now." Danny lifted the front of his robe to wipe the sweat from his forehead and hairline.
"Dude! I so do not need that visual!" Rufus grinned.
"Oops, sorry." Danny also grinned as he dropped the robe and adjusted it. "That better?"
"Much." Rufus breathed a sigh of relief. His footsteps receded and papers rustled. "It doesn't say anything in your notes about any nerve or muscle damage in your legs. So why do you think that is the way you have to walk for now?"
"It's the only way I can think of to make sure the floor in front of me is clear of obstacles."
"Okay. I can help you with that, because what you're doing know is not going to be healthy for you longterm."
"THIS IS NOT PERMANENT!" Danny thumped the arm of the chair and threw his head back. The armchair rocked back and connected with the wall. "WHY WON"T ANYONE BELIEVE ME?"
"It's not that I don't believe you," Rufus asserted. "I just want to help you with the situation you are in now. Right now, you are having problems with making sure your way is clear when you move around. I can help you with that while your eyes heal." He walked away, opened a zipper, closed it again, then came back. He pressed something long and skinny into Danny's right hand between the thumb and index finger.
Danny immediately knew what it was and he let it drop to the floor. "I don't need a cane."
"Why don't you just give it a go?" Rufus tried to put it back in Danny's hand, but Danny clasped his hands together and linked them behind his head. So Rufus folded the cane up and laid it on his lap instead.
Danny picked it up and threw it toward the door. "I don't need a cane. I don't need your help. And I don't need this hospital!" He stood up and shuffled back to the bed.
"You're lucky that nobody was hit by that," Rufus observed as he walked to the door. "I'll leave you alone for now and come back and see you in the morning."
"Is everything alright in here?"
Rufus looked up from the floor, where he was kneeling as he repacked his bag. "Hi, Faith. Everything's fine."
"No it's not," Danny interrupted. "I want my discharge papers, now!"
"Um, okay, I'll check with the doctor," Faith promised him.
"You're not listening to me." Danny laid on his back. "I don't care what the doctor says. I'm leaving. Call it AMA, DAMA, LAMA. I don't care. Just get my paperwork and my family. Now." He closed his eyelids, a symbolic ignoring of the others in the room.
When she got back to the nurse's station, Faith accessed Danny's records and picked up the phone. Running her finger down the page she located the number for Danny's next of kin and dialed it.
"Hello, may I speak to Linda Reagan, please."
"Speaking."
"Hi, this is Faith Fittey. I've been your husband's nurse today."
Linda's heart constricted. "What happened? Is he okay?"
"I'm not sure what happened but it seems he got into a fight and now he's insisting that he wants to discharge himself."
Linda wasn't surprised at the news. Danny had been far too calm since he'd been given the news. It was about time for him to explode. "And I'm guessing that discharge would be Against Medical Advice?"
"If you could get here as soon as possible that would be appreciated."
Putting down the phone, Faith grabbed the braille copies of the Discharged Against Medical Advice form and ran back to Danny's room. The man was in a contemptible mood, and she didn't want to be the one to escalate it further.
"Who's there?" Danny sat up and opened his eyelids.
"Faith. I've brought the forms for you to sign." She put the clipboard under his hands and guided his hands to the beginning of the document. "Just let me know when you're ready to sign."
Danny felt unfamiliar bumps under his fingers. "Is this braille? It is, isn't it? I've only been blind a few days! When would I have had time to learn braille?"
"My brother's never been blind and he can read braille fluently." Faith pulled the clipboard out under from Danny's fingers. "I'll have to find Marcie and get her to bring the computer in so you can listen to the text version. Your wife will be here soon."
'Soon' turned out to be more than half an hour. During that time, Danny had listened to the appropriate documentation. He grinned when he, with the help of a plastic frame, was able to sign his name in the right places. Finally, his life was getting back to normal.
Marcie also took out the cannula and put down the bed rail so Danny could start gathering his possessions.
"Daniel Claude Reagan. What exactly do you think you are doing?"
Danny had been intent on keeping his balance while he was feeling around in the back of the bottom drawer that he hadn't been paying attention to anything else, and so he didn't hear anybody coming in. He cursed as he lost his balance and once again had to stop himself from falling.
"Who are you, and what business is it of yours?" he snapped, once he had got his breath back. As the person came nearer, he blushed as he recognised the fragrance perplexed as to why he hadn't even recognised his own wife's voice. "I'm getting out of here, babe. The doctor said I was medically discharged, so everything else can wait. I'm going home." There was no response, so he put his hand out and was able to grasp Linda's arm just above the elbow. "I'm coming home. Babe. This is good news." There was still no response. He slid along the bed until his body touched hers. He gave her a lingering kiss. When she started to melt into him, he begged, "I just need my life to start getting back to normal."
"If you've been discharged why did you have to sign the DAMA paperwork?" Linda voice wavered on the border of holding firm and giving in.
"Because the OT was an idiot and I kicked him out before the appointment was finished, and the doctor had some crackpot idea that I need to see a counselor before I was discharged."
Danny made sure they didn't lose contact as Linda started to lean back. "Seeing a counselor might be a good idea."
"But I don't need to be in hospital to do that." Linda's voice had strengthened again with her last statement, so Danny delivered his coup de grace. "Besides, we can't afford for me to be in hospital unnecessarily. I wasn't on duty when this happened, remember? Please, Linda. Let me come home."
"Okay," Linda agreed. "You get the whole weekend to be home. But first thing Monday morning we find you a counselor, and what they say, you do."
Danny nodded vigorously. At that moment he would have agreed to jump off the moon without a parachute if it would have gotten him home.