Thank you all so much for the reviews. They might be invisible here at the moment but they have pride of place in my email in-box and I will send replies when they fix that function too (come on FF!)!

Back to the boys...

CHAPTER 4- THE JOURNEY HOME

BY ROAD

Steve felt like he was trying to reawaken from a long, dark dream. Whether the dream had lasted five days or two years he wasn't quite sure, but he was waking up to a whole new reality. A reality where Danny was alive but Danny was different and he was Danny's lifeline, Danny's anchor to the world. It had been Steve who had managed to reach him, Steve who had started to bring him back from that dark place in his mind.

That knowledge didn't fit well with Steve's now customary state of self-loathing and he honestly wasn't sure how to deal with it. New Steve was bowing under the weight of the responsibility, convinced he would fuck it up, longing to lose himself in a bottle. But the whiskey, for whatever reason, had upset Danny. Steve wouldn't be drinking in front of him, that was for sure. He had to keep it together. He was digging deep now, trying to channel Old Steve because this fucking mattered. This was Grace and Charlie's daddy, this was his best friend. This was everything.

The whole two-way communication thing was still brand new. Steve didn't wanted to push it, didn't want Danny to feel under pressure, so he had kept his attempts to 'speak' with his partner light and infrequent, kept things easy. He didn't want to go too far and frighten Danny back into himself.

Danny, for his part, was trying so hard it made Steve's heart ache. Eight hours on from the whole whiskey incident, the fear still showed in his eyes when he responded to the simplest of questions, but respond he did. He had latched on to the whole hand-squeezing thing and mastered it like an old pro. It was good, of course it was good… but it felt like Danny was trying to please Steve and something about that felt all wrong. Steve tried to ignore the feeling and revel in their monumental baby step.

However, there was no time to sit back and adjust to the new development. The day had come. They were traveling home.

Steve held Danny's hand, rubbed his scarred thumb, counting along with him absently as his eyes scanned the surroundings. They were en-route to Bogota, driving right through the heart of the cartel's territory. If Danny's former captors had caught a whiff of what was going on, anything could be waiting for them along that narrow road through the foothills of the mountains. At least Danny was low down and out of sight.

Steve and Danny were shoe-horned into the back seat of the non-descript pick-up Joe White had materialized with at the appointed hour. Danny's head was resting on a rolled up blanket in Steve's lap. He stared straight up at the roof, breathing hard through his nose, lips moving silently. He looked decidedly nauseous. Steve's left arm was slung protectively across his partner's body and Danny had a death-grip on his hand and forearm.

The whole process of being prepared to travel, of being moved outside to the vehicle then loaded into the thing had been hard on Danny. Stressful. He hadn't left that one hospital room for months after all, and the motion of the wheelchair, the sights and sounds of patients and staff bustling about their day to day business, the brief sensation of being outdoors, was bewildering at best.

Steve had honestly expected his partner's shutters to come down, for those dead, distant eyes to make a reappearance. But Danny had tolerated everything. He'd coped by counting, of course, and gripping Steve's hand so tight his nails had drawn blood.

Steve glanced down at Danny's face. Danny now was his and his alone to take care of during the nine hour drive and the ten hour flight. That knowledge was enough to make his heart pound.

The sheets of instructions Danny had been released with were burning a hole in Steve's pocket. The drug schedule, the meals, the personal care. He hoped to fuck he could talk Danny into eating the measured meals the hospital staff had carefully packed for him because the instructions for using the PEG tube were pretty daunting. Who would have thought injecting liquidized food through a tube into someone's gut would be so complicated? But Danny's eating was brand new and very much hit and miss so they had shown Steve how to do it, made him do it himself before they had left. Prop patient up to at least 30 degrees, aspirate tube, flush tube, meds, med flush, feed, feed flush. Steve's Spanish vocabulary was certainly broader than it had been a week ago, that was for sure.

"You'll eat the food, right buddy?" He said the words under his breath, more to himself than anything.

Danny's eyes flicked over to his. He moved his fingers hesitantly in Steve's grasp, then seemed to summon the courage to respond. He squeezed Steve's hand once.

A slow smile grew on Steve's face because that basic level of interaction was a long way from getting old. "That's my boy," he murmured softly.

Danny held his gaze for a second then closed his eyes, lips still moving. He was stressed and they were only 2 hours in. At least the flight was direct, that was something. Having access to the military plane cut out transfers and extra time. Still, Danny was going to be completely exhausted by the time they reached Oahu. He was so weak and so thin, his stamina had to be around zero.

Steve watched the scenery flash by as he counted for Danny. The bright green vegetation, the jagged mountain peaks. If not for the persistent signs of extreme poverty, it would have been vaguely reminiscent of their home. It was a beautiful country. And the staff at the hospital- he couldn't think more of them. What they had done for Danny, the man with no name and no money- he would never forget it. A healthy donation would be coming their way when he got home. And that man who had risked everything by bringing Danny to the hospital to begin with… he would send something to him as well, somehow. It seemed strange to have found positive associations with Colombia after everything that had happened here.

A sudden gasp from his partner had Steve's attention firmly back on him. Danny began to thrash weakly, moaning in distress. A nightmare. He was having a fucking nightmare and Steve hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep.

"He alright?" asked Joe from the front.

Steve didn't answer. He bent his head down low, counting closer to Danny's ear. He held Danny steady with the arm that was already across him so he couldn't do himself damage in the confined space.

"Easy, easy. You're safe, I've got you," Steve breathed, taking a fleeting hiatus in the calming liturgy of numbers.

Danny jerked back to awareness, breathing hard, trembling from head to foot. The terror on his face was painful to see and it persisted even after his eyes came to rest on Steve's face.

Steve moved his hand to touch Danny's cheek and Danny flinched. Steve frowned, shifting his trajectory a little to stroke his partner's sweat-soaked hair instead. "Come on buddy, calm down, you were just dreaming. You trust me, remember?"

Danny was blatantly trying. He squeezed his eyes shut, panting hard.

"Hey, Danny, look at me," said Steve.

The blue eyes opened again, searched him out.

"You trust me. Right?"

One squeeze, clear and undeniable for all that hand was shaking and Steve couldn't help but smile because there had been no hesitation whatsoever. "Good. I won't let you down, buddy. And I'm telling you you're safe, so just relax, okay?"

They counted quietly together as Danny slowly came back to himself.

Steve watched the landscape roll by, trying to get a grip for he too was far from calm. He wondered about the trust between them and not for the first time. After several long minutes Steve looked down, needing to know. He squeezed Danny's hand, got his attention. "Now you know I'm not gonna hurt you, no matter what you do, yeah? I know bad things happened to you before. Hey, look at me! But you're safe now. It's not possible for you to say or do anything wrong. Understand?" He looked pointedly at their joined hands.

One squeeze.

Steve opened his mouth then stopped, cleared his throat. "Danny, do you remember me from before?"

Danny held his gaze for a moment then looked away. Two hesitant squeezes. Almost an apology. No.

Steve really should have expected that, but it still hurt like a punch to the gut. "That's okay," he said anyway, tone light. "Don't worry about that. Trusting me is much more important because I'm going to get you home, safe, so you can start to heal. I'm going to get you the hell away from here. No one's going to hurt you again."

Danny's face took on a faraway look, then it screwed up as if he was in pain. He looked for all the world like he was replaying memories in his mind. That was new.

Pulse suddenly racing, heart in his mouth, Steve found himself asking the question that had lingered in his mind since he had realized how damaged his partner had been rendered. "Danny?" his voice was low and gentle and he gripped Danny's hand, tight. "Buddy, do you remember any of what happened to you?"

Danny's eyes jerked over to look at Steve, breaths coming faster once more. He squeezed Steve's hand, once. His fingers were trembling.

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, because for all he didn't know everything that had happened to Danny, he knew enough and it would have been so, so much better if Danny remembered none of it at all. And that new knowledge should have been enough because he didn't mean to push, but for all he had changed Steve was still seven years a cop and he needed more. "Danny, do you remember who hurt you?"

One squeeze, then the counting began in earnest.

Steve looked up, even as he too started to count without even needing to think, the act now ingrained in his sub-conscious. He caught Joe's questioning eye in the mirror and nodded once. They did not expect that. They did not think there was any chance Danny might be able to ID any of the people who had assaulted him. Joe had photos of potential suspects on his cell. If Danny could pick anyone out….

Steve glanced down at Danny, then back at Joe. He shook his head once. Too soon.

"Ok, it's OK. I've got you, buddy. OK, you did real good. Let's just count now, you and me together."

Steve murmured the words, then bowed his head. He kept pace with Danny's counting then dropped his speed back slowly until Danny fell into line with him, until he felt the tension begin to melt away from his partner's rigid muscles.

He glanced at the backpack down at his feet, yearning for a quick drink to take the edge off his own tension. It had been a good few hours now since his last one. He felt twitchy. Uneasy. He looked at his partner. Danny was trusting him blindly through what had to be a bewildering, disorienting experience and there was so much more to face yet. Danny's need for his support was constant and intense. He couldn't let himself get overwhelmed by it. He had to stay sharp, he had to stay focused, to do the right thing at the right time. He should stop anyway, really, stop the habit. Cut back at least. He blinked in confusion then because those thoughts were new. He looked at Danny's face again.

Maybe he needed this as much as Danny did.

BY PLANE

Danny slept for most of the flight, entirely exhausted by the day.

The crew had rigged up a low stretcher for him, secured to the floor beside the jump seats. Steve wished there was one for him too, because he was wiped out. The noise of the engines seemed to be lulling Danny so Steve took a break from counting. It was strange. It seemed like something was missing because those numbers had been a perpetual part of his waking life for days.

Steve kept himself awake and, more importantly, distracted from the contents of his backpack by playing with his cellphone. He flicked idly through the photos stored on it. His hands kept shaking which didn't help. He was sweating too for some reason, for all it was cool in the aircraft. He wiped an unsteady hand across his brow then reached for another blanket to lay gently across Danny.

He turned his attention back to the photos. The ones Joe had sent him were first on the list- the faces of those suspects. Joe wasn't traveling with them to Oahu. He had business to conclude in Colombia which, should Danny make an ID over the next few days, would include doing his best to round up any of the wastes of skin who had hurt the man so badly. What Joe would then do to them… that wasn't for Steve to know. It would be dealt with, that was all that mattered. Steve trusted him on that.

But Steve would wait until he felt Danny was strong enough before he showed him the photos. Danny's increased awareness, his willingness to try to communicate despite his obvious fears, were gifts that could not be taken for granted. Seeing the faces of the men who had abused him could have catastrophic effects.

None of the suspects were familiar to Steve and he soon tired of glaring at them hatefully, one by one. He moved on to personal photos. A mere handful post-dated Danny's disappearance and they were all of Danny's kids. He flicked back the way, back in time. He had several photos of Danny himself, mostly sneering at the camera, undoubtedly in the middle of delivering some sarcastic remark. He stopped on one. Danny looked pissed but animated, full of life and bursting with self-confidence.

He had fallen such a long, long way.

Steve put a hand up over his face, suddenly one very big step closer to losing his resolve over that half-drunk bottle of whiskey. His hand went down to the zipper of his backpack.

Then he realized Danny's eyes were open and on him.

He forced a smile. Fast. He held up his cell, covering hastily. "Hey, buddy! I was just looking at some photos." He blinked a few times, hastily re-structuring his thoughts from negative to positive. "Hey, you want to see some? There's gonna be a lot of people keen to see you when we get back once you feel up to it. Might be good if you could try to learn who some of them are. Might even help you remember if we're lucky. You want to look?"

He looked at Danny expectantly, then shook himself and leaned forwards to take Danny's hand.

One squeeze.

Whether Danny was actually interested or whether he was trying to please Steve again was debateable, however his acquiescence provided the perfect distraction for both of them. Steve unstrapped himself, sat down cross-legged on the floor beside Danny.

Steve began to scroll through the photos. He spoke softly, explaining who everyone was, trying not to get too emotional when he had to point Danny out to himself.

Danny listened obediently, his face an unreadable mask.

Then Steve came to one of the two of them together, Danny and Steve, partners and buddies. Grace had taken it with Steve's cell, had made them pose together, cheek to cheek. For some reason Danny hadn't been able to stop laughing for all Steve could recall he was doing nothing but bitching at the time. His mouth was a little blurred, which Steve clearly remembered teasing him for, because of course Danny's mouth never stopped moving so of course it would be blurred. Steve's own face was frozen in a wide, goofy grin.

His finger paused over the picture. His hand began to shake and he curled it into a fist, fast, put it down by his side so Danny wouldn't see. A lump rose in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut, fast, but it was too late. A tear escaped, ran down his cheek.

A soft touch on his arm made him look back up. Danny was looking at him, eyes confused and full of concern.

Steve scrubbed a hand roughly across his face. "Sorry, Danny. It's fine, I'm fine. Just… those were good times, that's all. I'm just sad about how things have changed."

Danny's reaction shocked Steve to the core because he had seen this Danny terrified and withdrawn but never upset. Not once. Yet Danny's lips began to twitch and his eyes filled with tears. They began to fall. His mouth was working silently and Steve began to count for him automatically, reaching for his thumb. But Danny found the word he was looking for and it wasn't a number.

"S-sorry," he stammered.

And that was just fucking typical. Danny's first attempt at a different word and it was an apology. Steve didn't know whether to hug him or go shoot himself. He had inadvertently made Danny think he was disappointed with him, that Danny was letting him down by not being the man in the photos, the man Steve missed so badly.

"No, fuck, I didn't mean… None of this is your fault, Danny, and I know things are different now but I'm so, so happy we got you back. Please don't doubt that, not for a second. I just wish they hadn't hurt you the way they did, that's all. I wish I had known where you were. I wish I could have stopped it."

But the tears still fell. It was as if a dam had been broken. Danny began to sob, raw and wretched. Whether it was just over this or whether his mind was taking the opportunity to vent over the infinite traumas he'd suffered, it simply didn't matter.

Fingers shaking, Steve unstrapped his partner and gathered him up, held him tight. He winced at the feel of the ribs, of the thin shoulders. He began to count, whispering the numbers in Danny's ear, offering an apology, comfort, in the best way he knew even as his own tears fell silently and unchecked.

TBC

Really appreciate feedback- please let me know what you thought. Drop me a review- it will hopefully appear from the nether regions of FF in the fullness of time!