Chapter four
A/N: Another Friday, another chapter… Still very happy you guys are liking the story, and still interested in hearing your opinion. I may or may not have started another project and if that is happening is because of you guys so thank you to each and every one who has favorited and reviewed so far.
I of course am not a medical professional so any mistake is entirely mine. I have researched to the best of my abilities to make things accurate but please allow some creative license. Also, Doctor Cornett is my favorite so he's the one I'm entrusting with Danny's care.
Lou Grover hurt.
A deep, throbbing ache had started in his injured shoulder and spread all the way to his limbs, head and chest. A physical pain, caused by his recent encounter with a 9mm, and a mental anguish for the events that had gathered Five-0 for yet another hospital vigil, waiting for news on one of their own.
Their hope for a quick and smooth rescue of their friend had turned into shocked bewilderment at the news that Danny had been injured by McGarrett's own weapon. Silence had fallen around the smart table as they'd listened to Duke urging them to meet him at Tripler because 'It's bad, brah, and Steve is a mess', each of the three team members realizing the implications and repercussions of that fateful action.
The ex-SWAT Captain had bounced back from his fair share of incidents in his long career as a law enforcement officer but as he closed his eyes that gloomy afternoon, inhaling deeply to keep his headache at bay before following Tani out of the vehicle and heading inside the very hospital he'd just been discharged from, he wondered if the team would ever bounce back from this.
His legs felt heavy as they led him through the double doors of the emergency entrance, his pace slow against Rey's purposeful strides.
"Any news?" he asked as he spotted Duke at the admit desk talking to a uniform.
"No. They rushed him to surgery as soon as we got here." The Sergeant glanced at Tani, then back at Grover. "Doesn't look good. He's lost a lot of blood."
Lou sighed, the throb in his shoulder flaring up again in fiery bursts, reminder of a day he wished could be erased from history. "How's McGarrett?"
Lukela shook his head.
"Did he tell you what happened?"
The Hawaiian man dropped his gaze. "Hasn't said a word since we left the scene. From what little he told me back at the warehouse, Doyle moved Williams in the line of fire just as he pulled the trigger."
"Jesus Christ…" Lou whispered as he scrubbed a hand over his tired face. No wonder McGarrett was a mess.
"Where's Junior?" Tani interjected, her face a mask of apprehension and impatience.
"Upstairs."
He didn't have to add that 'upstairs' was the second floor's surgical waiting area. They'd all spent enough hours in there to be familiar with the military hospital's facilities. "Kid knows more than he's saying. You guys should talk to him."
The two Five-0 members nodded in unison. A second later, Tani excused herself and headed to the elevator, leaving the two men to stare at each other, not quite sure of what to say. "Lou…" Duke eventually broke the awkward silence, "I've known Steve since he was a kid but I've never seen him like this. If Williams doesn't make it…"
"Don't." Grover held up his good arm. "Let's not go there yet. Jersey's as stubborn as they come, he's not gonna go down without a fight."
Lukela agreed, seeing the same amount of fear and concern in the other man's eyes. John McGarrett's son was just as strong, and if Fate had decided to test him once again they would be there for him through it all.
He just hoped it would be enough.
"That how it went down?"
Lou couldn't help the surprise in his voice as he heard Junior's account of how the events had unfolded. Because after everything their friends had been through it seemed so… unfair and so unbelievably wrong that their lives would be altered by such a senseless twist. Beside him, Tani wore an equally shocked expression. Swallowing hard, she reached forward and wrapped her hand around the young man's forearm in what she hoped would be a comforting gesture.
"Yes, Sir. I accidentally tripped over a piece of metal on the ground and alerted the hostile. I take full responsibility for the events that led to Detective William's accident, and I'm prepared to accept whatever punishment I deserve," he finished, his gaze never faltering. The Navy had taught him well and he was a man of his word. He would shoulder his responsibilities and face the challenge. Wouldn't be the first time life threw him a curve ball after all.
"Easy, easy, kid," Grover replied. "No one's punishing anybody. We're just trying to get the facts straight." Because the only other person who was there with Danny is in no shape to function, he wanted to add.
No one had seen McGarrett since he'd set foot in the hospital but Lou knew that he had to be close by in case the doctor came out with news on Danny so he left the kids, as he affectionately called them, with the promise to find him if they knew anything and went looking for him. And sure enough there he was, a lone figure sitting on the floor in a small alcove next to the janitor's closet, knees drawn up, one arm resting across them and the other hanging limply down to the side.
His eyes were open and staring straight ahead but he didn't appear to be aware of anything going on around him, lost in what Grover imagined was a world of self-deprecation and guilt.
As he inched closer, careful not to startle him, the older man's gaze fell on the object clutched in Steve's right hand and he felt his heart squeeze painfully inside his chest. Danny's wallet, open to reveal a smiling picture of Grace and Charlie hugging each other. He stood still, trying to find the right words to ease at least part of his friend's pain and knowing at the same time that none would ever be appropriate or comforting enough to do that.
"Why don't I take that?" he eventually said with the softest voice he could muster. He unconsciously held his breath, waiting for a reaction or some kind of acknowledgement, and when the first minute passed without either he shifted nervously on his feet, debating whether or not he should push further or turn around and give the man some space.
Then Steve's hand uncurled.
Taking that small sign as a permission to stay, Lou slid his big frame down the cream-colored wall and slowly lowered himself to the floor next to him then reached across the space that separated them and took the wallet from his friend's hand, folding it and putting it in his shirt's front pocket.
The situation stirred memories of late night calls and early morning drives to McGarrett's place, of caffeine and sunrises on the lanai as they both shared stories from the past and kept each other's demons at bay. Steve had trusted him before, showed him his most vulnerable side, something not even Williams had been privy to, and Grover was determined to repay that trust as best as he could.
He leaned forward, ignoring his shoulder's protest at the movement, and laid a gentle hand on Steve's arm. "Hey. How are you holding up?" If it was any other moment, he would've laughed at the absurdity of his question. Steve was so far from being fine and holding things together that Lou feared if he allowed him to slide over the edge his friend would completely lose himself.
"Danny's a fighter. He'll pull through," he continued. "You hear me? He's going to be alright." He felt the ex-SEAL take a deep breath before finally turning his head to meet his gaze and wasn't prepared for the broken, agonized look that he saw etched across his features.
This couldn't be Steve McGarrett. This wrecked, hollowed-out man couldn't be the task force leader that put the fear of God in every criminal with just a stare. The person before him seemed to have lost all the will to survive, to fight, to… exist.
"Steve… Don't do this, man," he pleaded. "You know it's not your fault. Things like this just… happen. Sometimes they happen to the wrong people, but you guys are stronger than this. You have to believe that, or it's gonna drive you insane."
Steve shook his head and his posture stiffened. "Don't…" he growled. "Don't say it's not my fault. You weren't there, you don't know."
For a brief second, Lou saw a flicker of life behind that anger, a sign that the tough Commander was still in there somewhere, but just as quickly as it had come the moment passed and his friend's body deflated. The unstoppable SEAL, who had survived three bullets and a liver transplant, who wasn't giving his radiation poisoning diagnosis a second thought just closed his eyes, put his head down on his knees and tuned the rest of the world out.
Grover exhaustedly leaned his own head against the wall and waited.
McGarrett was a formidable man. Flawed as everyone else, but much more skilled at hiding those vulnerabilities. A man with the biggest heart of anyone Lou had ever met, who had lost so many people he cared about he put his life on the line every day, diving headfirst into danger, just to prevent anyone else from getting hurt. A strong warrior who still considered himself a liability and his own life expendable.
Someone who deserved so much better.
A nurse sped past them with a crash cart and the ex-SWAT leader instinctively stilled, saying a silent prayer for the poor soul whose life had taken a turn for the worse and hoping that Danny was still holding his own.
"I can't, Lou…" Steve whispered as soon as the woman disappeared from their sight, his voice so quiet that he almost missed it. "I can't be the guy who shoots his partner. I just—I can't be that guy…"
Lou Grover prided himself on being a tough man. Someone who had a strong grip on his emotions and rarely let them out. But in that moment, as he looked into his friend's haunted eyes and witnessed the anguish and the pain clouding the once clear, focused gaze, he wasn't ashamed to let his own tears fall.
"Steve," he tried. "You know Danny's not gonna blame you. None of us would."
"He should, man," came the detached, flat reply. "I messed up."
Grover sighed, a feeling of dejà-vu washing over him as he remembered the last time his friend had told him he'd messed up. That day it was a bench outside King's Hospital, and he'd fatally shot what he believed was an HPD officer. Lou had tried to reason with him, to no avail, and only the news that the guy was instead one of the robbers had appeased Steve's conscience.
This time their leader was shattering in front of everyone's eyes, and not even Danny coming out of surgery with flying colors would be enough to give him the peace of mind he so desperately needed.
"Listen man, you're right. I wasn't there, but from what I've been told by someone who was there's nothing you could've done. You couldn't have predicted this. You couldn't have foreseen the son of a bitch reacting to a damn noise. It's not on you. It was just bad luck."
A heartbroken laugh came out of Steve's mouth. "Bad luck…" He fixed Grover with a disbelieving gaze. "I'm your leader," he said, his voice quivering. "You guys have to trust me enough to follow me into situations where your lives are at risk. How can you do that when I'm the one who screws up?"
"Steve, listen to me. We've never doubted you or your abilities to get the job done. Never have, never will. You're a freaking superhero in everyone's eyes!" Lou said as he placed his hand on Steve's shoulder, squeezing it lightly. The other man tensed under his touch but he didn't let go. "What I'm trying to say here, man, is you're allowed to be human. This is one hell of a screwed-up situation and you have every right to be upset about it, just don't let it ruin your life. We're your family, man. We care about you, and it's killing us to see you like this."
Steve's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, shaking his head. "I failed him, Lou. I failed Danny. I failed you all." Then, as if a switch got flipped, his gaze moved to stare at the space in front of him and he withdrew into himself again.
Lou opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He knew there was nothing else he could do so he just sat there, offering a silent support until even that became too much and he knew it was time to leave.
"Alright, man, let me see if there's any news on Danny," he said as he eased himself up.
McGarrett didn't blink.
With one final glance at his friend's broken form, Lou turned around and walked away.
Everything was quiet.
The second floor waiting area, now completely empty and bathed in a soft, yellow light. The ICU corridor, smelling of antiseptic and lemon-scented cleaner. The nurse's desk, where a young woman in pink scrubs was busy updating patients' charts.
Everything was quiet except for Steve's heart drumming loudly in his chest, and the voice in his head taunting his sanity.
His friends had left hours before. Some of them as soon as the doctor had come out to inform everyone that Danny had survived surgery and that it would be touch and go for a while. Others, like Lou and Tani, had needed a tad more convincing but had eventually gone home to rest as well.
All had lined up to donate blood, prompted by the surgeon's listing of the number of units they'd had to transfuse and the ones Danny would require over the next day or so. Steve had asked too, knowing full well as he did that his request would be denied. 'Transplant recipients should not donate blood,' the doctor had replied. 'The immunosuppressants you take could be harmful to the receiver.'
Another blow striking his already weakened psyche. Danny had saved his life, given him half his liver, and he couldn't even try and repay him the favor after landing him in a hospital bed.
He had still been sitting on the cold linoleum floor, all sensation of time passing lost, when Doctor Cornett had come out of the OR. He remembered Grover shaking him out of his daze, and feeling like a dead man walking as his feet dragged him to where the rest of his ohana stood. A blue sea of HPD officers had parted as soon as he appeared, and he had struggled to maintain his composure as he felt their stares on him and heard their words of encouragement.
He didn't deserve any of those. Didn't they know he was the one to blame?
The sight of the doctor that had saved his life two years before, of his exhausted features and the blood covering his scrubs — Danny's blood, had nearly shattered what little self-control Steve had left, and he'd crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to hold himself together and hide his shaking hands.
Guilt had swarmed through his heart and soul at Cornett's words, the seriousness of his best friend's condition clear from the very beginning. He had registered a few words before the buzzing in his ears had drowned all other sounds. Broken collarbone. Nicked subclavian artery. 40% Blood loss volume. Hypovolemic shock. Low pressure. Irregular heartbeat.
Someone had put a hand on his shoulder —maybe Lou, or Duke Lukela. He really couldn't tell.
'Detective Williams is lucky to be alive, and we're gonna do everything we can to keep him that way. He's being transferred to the ICU now. You can see him once he's settled.'
Of course the good doctor had assumed he wanted to see his partner as soon as possible. That was usually his first request, spoken in a no-nonsense voice that left no space for arguments. This time though, he'd wished the physician had appealed to the ward's strict protocol and told him to wait.
He desperately needed to see Danny. Touch him, tell him that he loved him and that he was sorry, but he was also terrified to face him, even if he knew he'd be unconscious. Terrified of seeing what his bullet had done, of not knowing if he would pull through, terrified that the last image his friend had seen had been a bullet coming out of his gun.
So he'd sat there, long after everyone else had left, unable to bring himself to move.
A nurse had brought him a stack of paperwork to fill as he waited, recognizing him as Danny's emergency contact, and Steve had almost welcomed the task, hoping it would give his mind something else to focus on.
Another had offered a cup of coffee. The good kind, not the burnt one from the vending machines. He'd given her a half smile and politely declined.
That had been an hour ago according to the clock on the wall.
It was now 2:15am, and weariness was beginning to seep into Steve's bones. It had been a long, dreadful day, started with a familiar argument and gone downhill from there, and he had no one else to blame but himself. With one single action, he'd managed to destroy the only relationship that meant anything to him, and the loss that came with that realization was unbearable.
Danny probably hated him now – that is, if he survived at all, and that meant he had just lost his best friend, his work partner, and the family the Jersey detective had allowed him to be part of.
He was alone again, an outcast for the rest of his days. He would never see Gracie and Charlie again, and even Five-0 wouldn't be the same despite the reassurances that the remaining members of his team would be always on his side.
His dark lashes brimmed with tears. He couldn't even imagine Five-0 without Danny, or someone else sitting in the passenger seat as he drove to a crime scene…
The bond they shared had been the one bridge out of the darkness he'd fallen into after Freddie and his father's death, allowing him to step out of the fortress he'd isolated himself into.
Danny had breached his defenses and taught him how to be human, making him a better person.
Now that bridge had been burned and no matter how many people surrounded him, Steve felt completely alone.
He sucked in a shuddery breath.
He didn't know what the future held for him. He could barely tolerate the present. But whatever path it led him, and before he picked up the pieces of what was left of his life, he needed to know that Danny would be okay. He could live with him being mad, resenting him for what he'd done, as long as his partner was granted a future and the chance to see his kids grow up.
So he had to go see him.
Even if it scared him more than any mission ever had.
Berating himself for being a coward and failing his friend all over again, Steve rubbed a hand over his face and finally rose to his feet.
His shoes made no sound on the pavement as he moved, and yet his heart was beating so fast and so loud it felt as if it would rip its way out of his chest.
Emotions were swirling inside him, feelings he didn't know how to deal with and wasn't able to lock down anymore.
His hand stilled below the 'Restricted Area' sign on the door leading to the intensive-care beds, the words in bold red lettering bringing back memories of crimson blood pouring out of Danny's wound. He jerked it away, recoiling at the sickening sensation of the warm, thick liquid seeping through his fingers. Despite numerous attempts at scrubbing it away, he could still see it in the lines on the back of his hands and underneath his fingernails. And as much as he tried to detach himself from those memories, he knew the stains would always be there.
The blood of a partner never comes off.
Steve looked away for a second then tried again, pushing the door open. A draft of air hit him and he lifted his head up to breathe it in, eyes closed, allowing himself a few more instants before resuming his slow walk towards Danny's bed.
When he reached the glass-enclosed cubicle at the end of the row he hesitated again, inhaling deeply to try and calm his racing heart. He couldn't remember feeling so vulnerable, so…helpless since he'd had to listen to his father's murder over the phone. And if that had almost broken him, this was shattering him now. Because this was Danny. Someone he had a real connection to.
His face faltered as he stepped inside and he choked up at the sight of his friend, unconsciously backing away.
The light above the bed illuminated Danny's face just enough for him to see that he looked exhausted and pale, his ghostly white skin matching the white bandage around his shoulder and chest and the sheets he was laying on. He had dark circles under his eyes and a multi-colored bruise on his hollowed-out cheek from where Doyle had struck. His jaw was slack, with the breathing tube taped to the right corner of his mouth. A central line was visible on the right side of his neck and multiple IVs were snaking out of his arms. Wires were attached to his chest and connected to the heart monitor that was beeping steady on the side of his bed.
God, Danny, what have I done?
Steve committed the sight to memorythrough tear-filled eyes, vowing to make sure he'd never see it again. Inching closer on unsteady legs, he approached the side of the bed and grasped the rail as if the plastic support was the only thing keeping him upright.
A lone tear ran down his cheek.
"Hey, buddy," he whispered. If he had wires connected to his own heart, the beep of the monitor would've tripled in speed. "I know you hate me right now. And I don't blame you. My number one priority has always been to keep you safe, and… and I failed at that today. I failed big time." He slipped his hand under Danny's limp one and squeezed it gently. It felt cold, so he put his other hand on top of it, thumb sweeping back and forth over the clammy skin.
"But I need you to hold on. You hear me? I need you to fight. You fight for Charlie, for Gracie, you fight for all the people who love you."
You fight for me…
Grabbing a chair, he pulled it closer and sat down next to the bed. "Please hang in there…"
Lulled by the rhythmic sound of the equipment monitoring Danny's vitals, Steve watched his friend's chest rise and fall as time gradually lost its meaning and he eventually fell into a restless sleep.
Hang in there, buddy
Please don't die…
TBC