The Recovery Period

Chapter Four

A/n: Here's chapter four. Thank you all for your reviews. Steve will reappear in the next chapter - I'm building up until Danny and Steve cross paths once more!

"I don't know what I did, but let me fix it." Stan looked at his wife pleadingly. He was livid. He was livid beyond words, and didn't quite know what to do with himself. Stan never got angry. In fact, Stan's stoicism was one of his trademark reasons why he was so different than Rachel's first husband, the man asleep in their guest bedroom, exhausted just from kissing his daughter on the forehead and trudging up the stairs (with Stan's help). Stan's lack of emotional depth was different altogether than Danny's one-note, quick-to-anger mentality. Stan was diplomatic. He always saw all sides of the argument and formed the best solution. Some might view him as cold, but after a failed marriage to the Jersey hothead that is Danny Williams, Rachel yearned for someone who was the complete opposite. She got this in Stan, who was able to rationalize even the most horrible of circumstances in the loss of his son. At this moment, however, Stan could did not seem to comprehend anything.

"Rachel." he looked at her. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing, Stan." Rachel was exasperated. "I'm not pleased with the situation either, but he's Grace and Charlie's father. He needs our help."

"Honey." Stan developed a patronizing tone - perhaps he was unaware of this. "Rach. There are many reasons why I have a problem with this. Not only were you married to Danny, but you had an affair with him. He's the father of my son. His son. Fuck." Stan threw up his hands. "I'm never going to stop doing that."

"He has no one, Stan. Stan, I love you, I know this makes you uncomfortable, and I'm sorry. I can't defend my actions, or Danny's. But Grace wants him here. I'm worried Danny won't take care of himself on his own. The only person who would truly care for him as well as his daughter would be Steve, but he's in the hospital and is even worse. Please, Stan. You know this is the only option."

Stan stared at his wife listlessly before looking down. He pulled back his suit jacket sleeve and looked at his watch. He was already late to work. He shook his head, sighed, and grabbed his briefcase. "How long?" he asked.

"A month, at least."

Stan cursed again. "I don't want any fucking family dinners. I don't...I don't want to feel like the odd man out. Rachel. I'm your husband." He searched for more words to say, but ending up turning around and leaving in wordless rage.

Danny was, in fact, in agreement with Stan. He had only begrudgingly accepted Stan's help up the stairs after Grace had insisted. By the time Stan nearly dropped Danny onto the guest room bed, Danny's legs were trembling and his mind filled with flickers of regret. He should not have left the hospital. He should not have left –

But he felt he had to. Stubborn as he was, even if Danny completely regretted his decision later, he would never admit defeat.

"Your ribs must still be shit, Danny. What are you doing here?" Stan had asked once they had reached the top of the stairs.

"If they were shit, Stanley, I would not have left the hospital." Danny responded with a forced ease. Case in point. Stan had given up and left the room not long after to complain to Rachel. Then it was just Grace and Danny. Grace had been avoiding his gaze, but helped her father over to the bed.

"Are you going to sleep?" She asked him, brown eyes staring up at her father.

"To sleep?" Danny grunted, painfully leaning forward to remove his shoes. "You want me to sleep? I just got here. You don't want to talk to your father?"

Grace shrugged. She went over to stand by her father. "If it makes you better. Then you can go back to work and show Uncle Steve."

"'Show Uncle Steve?' I don't know what that means. Show him what?"

Grace sighed. She shrugged. "Nevermind." She said.

"Grace." Danny tried to reach his daughter's face. "What's up, huh?"

Danny's cell phone rang. Grace dove for it, where it lay on the bed, so as to not answer her father's question.

"Leave it, Grace-"

It was too late. Grace smirked at the Caller ID, then easily typed in her father's passcode and greeted her cousin on the other end.

"This is Grace." She listened for a little, smiled, and then put the phone on speaker. Danny slowly adjusted the pillow and gingerly swung his legs onto the bed. Meanwhile, Eric was speaking a mile a minute.

"I know he said to stay here, and all, so I don't 'slow his healing process,' but, c'mon, Grace, I think we both know Uncle D needs his favorite nephew. I'm pr-"

"Hey. Schmuck. Calm down. You're already making my head hurt." Danny cut in. "You're also not my favorite nephew."

"Uncle D!" Eric was indeed on the phone, and was overjoyed to hear his uncle on the other end. "Alive!"

"Alive." Danny sighed.

Eric was adamant to know how his uncle had been treated by the good people of Oahu. He had, after all, played a major role in ridding the city of a major drug epidemic. And he had saved the life of arguably the most important law enforcer in Oahu. The hospital must have been packed with visitors for Danny, right?

"Nope." Grace answered first, before Danny could think of a tactful way to respond.

"No, what?"

Grace flushed. "Danno's only visitors were Charlie and I."

There was a pause. Danny looked down.

"I don't get it." Eric was slow to understand.

"It's so not fair." Grace huffed. "Every last person in Oahu sent cards and flowers to Uncle Steve. There was nothing for Dad."

Dad. She had started calling him that, now that she was older. Danny didn't know how he felt about it.

"Hold up, not even like one of those fruit baskets?" Eric was growing as agitated as his cousin. "Or just one big pineapple? That's symbolic or something, right?"

"All right, don't think too hard about it." Danny sighed. He was not surprised by Eric's disgruntlement, but looking at his daughter now, he could see that she was really upset. "Grace-"

"It's not fair." Grace complained before Danny could say anything to her.

"Yeah, Uncle D, what gives?" Eric countered. "They don't want to give any credit to a guy from Jersey?"

"That's it." Danny rolled his eyes. "Listen, I'm fine. Let's forget about it. Eric, I don't want you worrying anyone back in Jersey."

"Too late for that, Unc-"

"Has Uncle Steve even texted you?" Grace interrupted, her eyes narrowed. Danny looked at his daughter, startled.

"I don't want you mad at Uncle Steve." Danny was involuntarily defensive. He didn't even think about what he was saying. "This isn't his fault."

"But has he?"

Danny was silent for a moment before he gave a half-hearted shrug. "No. No, he hasn't. But he's been at the hospital-"

"This is so stupid." Grace sighed. She ran a hand through her hair and sat back in the chair she had carried upstairs and placed stalwartly next to his father. On the other end, Eric muttered something unintelligent. Danny recognized with a pang of flattery that his daughter and nephew were pouting on his behalf, and were perhaps the only two to actually be upset about his treatment.

"Look, I appreciate the rain clouds you two have conjured up." Danny started.

"Uncle D, I think you-"

"You've done enough thinking for today, bud. Take it easy. Sit this one out." Danny rolled his eyes. "It's over. I'm home. I'm...I'm in a home."

"He's staying with us." Grace said. "With Mom and Charlie and Stan and I."

"You're what?" Eric's laugh filled the room from the speaker of Danny's phone. "Ma, you're not going to believe this!" Eric called suddenly, and Danny could hear his sister somewhere further away, asking Eric what he was rambling about. Eric quickly filled her in. From Oahu, Grace's eyes widened, and she fixed her father with a sheepish look. Danny would definitely not be able to sleep now.

Captain Lou Grover stood in the living room of the Marker home. Keola's foster mother sat on the couch across from him, sipping coffee and staring blankly in front of her as Lou explained the events that had transpired. About the ambiguous murder of their foster son and of his recovering boyfriend who was equally as confused as to any motive. About the suspect who was identified as a woman and not much else.

"Ma'am." Lou looked at the woman. She flinched at his exasperated tone and looked up at him.

"I'm sorry. Forgive me." She set down her coffee. "Sit down, please. Or do you have much time? I know you must be so busy. With your boss recovering and all. Please do wish the commander well for me."

"Well, I'm sure he'd thank you in person if he could. Thank you." Lou took a seat. "Is your husband home, ma'am?"

"Oh, yes." She nodded. "Yes, he's here. He's on his way in. He just had to finish something in the backyard."

Sure enough, not long after this was said, a tall, blond man entered the room. His eyes were red, and his hands scratched and dirty. He glanced first at his wife and then at Lou.

"You're probably looking at my hands." He said sheepishly. "I was pulling weeds. Yardwork helps me clear my head. You have a garden?"

"Hell no." Lou scoffed. "Now, my wife, she has a garden, but I don't have time for yardwork."

"I can imagine." The man sat on the couch next to his wife and put his hand on her knee. She did not seem to mind the state of his hand. "5-0 did Oahu a great service. We sure hope your two guys feel better soon."

"You and the rest of us." Lou said. "I'll pass the message along." He paused, pulling out his notepad. "Your wife tells me you don't have much information for me."

"Unfortunately, no." The husband shook his head. "Keola was definitely a…a dark-horse type. He made his own meals, washed his own clothes, and paid for his own car. He never spoke to us, really. Still." He looked down. "Still."

"And his biological parents?"

The wife spoke. "His father wrote him letters, but Keola never read them. He used to rip them up, but I think he just ignored the last few letters."

"And his mother."

"His mother. She called him constantly, but Keola never answered her calls." The mother said with a soft sigh.

"Why?"

"We don't know." The father said. "After Keola's father went to prison, his mother was very depressed. She…I don't know, she didn't pay much attention to Keola after that. We think now she's realizing her mistakes, something to that affect. Clearly, Keola wanted nothing to do with her, or his father."

"The only person Keola really spoke to was Makoa. Makoa was his only confidant." Keola's foster mother remembered. "Makoa is such a sweet boy. We always thought Keola was a bad influence on him. We even…" The foster mother sat back, smiling at the memory, "we even sat Makoa down one evening and begged him to find someone else. But he was in love. His first real love, you know? Makoa thought Keola could move mountains."

"Keola loved that." The father shook his head. "That blind loyalty. Makoa never asked him a damn thing about his life. If Keola told him, he told him. If not, then Makoa didn't ask."

"So Makoa may know even less about Keola than you do." Lou summed up frankly. "Because, clearly, something was going on with Keola that no one else knew about. Am I right?"

"Yes, that's most likely correct." The father nodded.

"To me, it sounds like Keola was using Makoa, or at least taking advantage of him." Lou stated. He looked at the foster parents. "He took advantage of you two and he took advantage of his younger boyfriend."

"He didn't take advantage of us." Keola's foster mother shook her head. "He was always secretive. He was just a secretive boy. He had his life and we had our lives. Same with Makoa."

"That's not how I remember relationships usually panning out."

"You didn't know him, captain." The mother was insistent. "Keola may have been ungrateful, but he wasn't using our affection for anything."

"But you don't know why anyone would want to kill him."

"No."

"He never said anything to you about being in danger, or feeling scared, or fighting with Makoa."

"No."

"So, ma'am, he did take advantage of your loyalty."

"Captain Grover." The husband looked at Lou, his jaw set. "I'm not sure I understand this line of questioning."

Lou paused. He had done it again, hadn't he? "I'm sorry." He sighed.

"You're worried about your commander." The mother put in gently. "I understand." Her husband seemed less convinced. The mother spoke again, anyway. "You should go check on him."

"I thank you." Lou stood. "What I said came out wrong. I'm just trying to understand who would want to kill a kid."

"Probably the same type of people who would bring illegal drugs to our great city." The father stood as well and half-heartedly shook the captain's hand. "Your questioning wasn't too off, Captain Grover. Keola was hardly ever home. I reckon he was up to far more than he let on."

Lou nodded. "Please understand we will try our absolute best to find out who would kill your son."

The father's eyes grew red again. "Thank you." He whispered.