Chapter 4
Dr. Ira Bernstein was pushing sixty, had thick grey hair, a bushy mustache and looked as though he had slept in his clothes. The county coroner had already cut away the majority of the left side of McGarrett's bloody shirt, exposing the ugly oozing bullet wound. He had cleaned and numbed the area and was proceeding to stitch the gaping hole closed as best as he could. Sitting close by on the worn couch in the lounge area of the small police station was Williams, still shivering beneath the thick wool blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Jenny O'Neal hovered close to Dan, making sure that the mug he cupped in his hands was never emptied of hot coffee. Her special attention didn't go unnoticed by her fellow officers.
"Looks like Jenny wants to take her next vacation in Hawaii," Tony whispered to Lars as he elbowed the taller man in the ribs.
"Maybe we'll need to start recruiting for a replacement," joked Erikson.
The teasing stopped when Steve suddenly gasped as the doctor tugged too hard on a particularly sore spot. "Hold still," Bernstein scolded in a gravelly voice. "You're damned lucky I didn't have to dig the slug out of you, too." Once the sharp pain had eased, Steve shot an amused look at Danny, who returned the grin.
"Private joke?" Jenny asked her curly haired charge when she picked up on the unspoken communication between the cops from Hawaii.
"No, just déjà vu," Danny replied, taking another sip of the wonderfully warming coffee. "I'll explain later," he added, smiling up at the woman who was so focused on his care.
"Well, it isn't as bad as it could have been," Bernstein continued as he finished the last of the stitches. "But I'll bet it hurts like hell."
"That's an understatement, Doc," Steve remarked with his jaw clenched.
"Hey Doc, you should have a look at Danny, too," Lars spoke up, after sipping from his own mug.
"Oh? What happened to you?" the coroner asked, turning toward Williams after he had secured a thick bandage over his handiwork on McGarrett's shoulder. Steve's full attention instantly snapped to his second-in-command, scanning the young man for damage.
Before the embarrassed detective could respond, Erikson answered for him in a matter-of-fact tone. "He took a tumble into a snowdrift, Doc; got all wet." Steve wondered what the big deal was about a few wet clothes, but the doctor quickly pulled a thermometer out of his bag, placed it in Dan's mouth and began looking him over. "I'm fine," Danny insisted, trying to talk around the thermometer, only to be shushed by Bernstein.
"Your lips are as blue as your eyes, young man," mumbled the physician before he checked Dan's fingers. He then removed Dan's boots and socks and examined each of his toes, grunting some form of 'okay'.
"What is it, Doc?" Steve asked impatiently, his concern evident.
Bernstein removed the thermometer, held it up to the light and squinted to get a reading. "No sign of frostbite, but his temperature is lower than I'd like." He looked directly at Danny and patted his arm. "Get out of those wet clothes and into a warm bath, son. That should raise your temperature back to normal and stop that shivering." Dan's cheeks reddened at the word 'son', especially with O'Neal so close to him. Then Bernstein took a step back and regarded both of his patients. "Hawaii, huh? Must have one hell of a case of jet lag, too."
Maguire clapped the coroner on the back. "Thanks, Ira, I owe you one," Ed said sincerely. The ME finished packing his equipment and pulled on his heavy coat and hat. "You owe me several, Ed," he deadpanned before glancing toward his first patient. "Mr. McGarrett, I'll drop by tomorrow to check on those stitches; don't get them wet," he advised. "Better go drop off my new 'customer' at the morgue. Goodnight, gentlemen, Jenny." Then he was out the door and on his way home.
"Okay, let's call it a night, too," Ed declared, looking around the room at the group of weary officers. "Plenty to do, but it can wait until tomorrow." It was late, not much more could be accomplished that night and he had two house guests to get settled, one wounded and one on the verge of hypothermia.
o-o-o
It was almost midnight before Steve and Dan climbed into the twin beds usually occupied by Ed's two sons, now away at college. There was something very comforting about the room with its football trophies, school pennants and posters of sports cars adorning the walls. The small space infused the two visiting cops with an air of the security of home and the optimism of youth, a brief respite from the dangers and responsibilities that came with their profession.
Danny pulled the wool blankets and quilt up to his nose. Steve shifted around trying to find a comfortable position, using an extra pillow to prop up his aching shoulder. The meds were definitely wearing off and every movement seemed to pull at the freshly stitched wound. Finally, he turned onto his right side and looked over at the pile of covers with the barely visible curly head.
"You warm enough, Danno?" Steve asked in a hushed voice.
The only response was a soft snore. His exhausted second, finally warm after a long bath, had fallen into a deep sleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow. Steve watched the still figure for several minutes. The events of the evening were still replaying in his mind, including the sickening fear he had felt when gunfire had erupted from the rear of the cabin. He settled back into his own pillow, grateful that they had both survived the confrontation.