I'm back!
I just want to say a massive thank you to the readers who showed support when my friend was diagnosed, and for being so understanding on why I needed to take some time out. Unfortunately, she passed away last month, on the 17th. I'm absolutely heartbroken, but I managed to spend almost every day with her. We did manage to do this final chapter together - I haven't looked it over, it's as raw as they come. It's just been sat on my computer since we wrote it together, and I know she'd want me to post it. Unfortunately, it's not quite the ending we wanted but we ran out of time, so I apologise if it's not the best, but we didn't get chance to fix it up.
One day I hope we'll find a cure, and kick cancers butt!
Thank you again. And I hope you enjoy this final installment.
This one's for you, J. Miss you already. xx
Stage 6
Reconstruction
Steve isn't sure when it becomes more about himself than Danny.
It takes a week of endless questions, untrusting glares, exasperated sighs and clenched fists before Steve finally admits he may have to let go of the man Danny used to be and start focasing on the man he's to become. They spend their hours together, Steve in the hard visitors chair, Danny propped in his hospital bed, one of them reminiscing and the other trying to resurrect dead memories – the sessions only end, temporarily, when Danny has to go to another intensive therapy session, or one of the numerous doctors pops in for a quick check-up.
Retrograde Amnesia is what the Doctors keep calling it, and not a single one of them can promise whether or not it's only a temporary problem whilst the brain repairs itself. To Steve and Danny, it means one thing; a large portion of his past has been lost to a dark cloud of uncertainness, but Steve doesn't let go of the hope that he can fix this, fix Danny, that he'll find the one thing that grabs hold of Danny's memoirs and pull them free from the foggy grasp.
"So, one more time, tell me exactly what you remember." Steve says, pulling the note pad from the table and opening to the first page of scribbled notes.
"Haven't we been over this enough already?" Danny sighs, reaches up to remove the annoying nasal cannula and itch at his nose. Large, pleading eyes look up at him, and he shakes his head – the movement no longer causing sharp, stabbing pains to jolt through skull and deep into brain and tissue. "Nothing that you want me to."
"Let's just try one more time, please? I promise, never again." Steve shifts closer to the edge of his seat, pulls a pen from one of his many cargo pockets. Danny looks hesitant, and Steve doesn't blame him, because the last session had ended with Danny being thrown into a series of silent seizures; another side effect from the injury that the doctors couldn't tell if it was a lasting effect or not, and Danny had lost another hour of his life. "Please?" Steve gently pleads again, sure that this would be the one time that makes a difference. If Steve was being the typical Steve, he'd have backed off days ago, told Danny to get some rest so that they could reconvene at another, more appropriate time. But Steve isn't himself, hasn't felt like himself for a long time now, and he needs his friend to remember something, anything, so he knows his hope isn't being misplaced. Danny gives in because the desperation in Steve's eyes is enough to soften any man's resolve.
"Okay." He nods, clears his throat. "I remember being a cop – a detective – in New Jersey. Um, I'm married to Rachel and last I remember she was eight months pregnant – with our first; a girl – and we live, lived, in a two bedroom apartment not too far from the local fire house." Danny shifts slightly, Steve copies, eyes focused intently on his friend, no need to check his notes, because it's the same speech as the first seven times they'd tried this. "I remember getting my partner, Grace, shot on September 11th, and I remember going to her funeral, and that I still haven't found a partner to replace her, because she was my first proper partner and you can't just replace that, y'know?"
"I do." Steve nods solemnly, because he understands the weight of responsibility to a partner, knows the bond becomes that of a family; something unique and much deeper than a normal friendship. "What else?"
"Mattie's just scored a big name client, but he wont share the details because of some confidentiality clause – but I'll get it out of him." Smirks slightly. "My oldest sister, Jen, got her dream job at the hospital and the youngest just graduated from college."
"That's good." Steve nods, scratches at his ear.
"Look, Steve, I remember everything about my life in New Jersey. You asking me to remember things that just aren't there isn't helping me any. It's like I'm trying to remember the future, which, by the way, is just damned stupid."
"But it's not the future." Steve defends, slumps back in the visitors chair, rubs red, tired eyes. "It's your past. It's our past. Maybe if I ask Kono or Chin to visit..."
"No." Danny interjects, cutting Steve off. "I told you I don't want any visitors. The only reason you're here is because Mom keeps calling to check. The only person I want to see is Rachel, but for some unknown reason, she hasn't been to visit and no one is telling me why."
Steve sighs, deflates a little, shoves the notepad back on the table and looks at his confused, for all intents and purposes, brother. He tries to ignore the silent batlle waging internally; to tell Danny or wait until the Williams return and let them do it. If they ever return, Steve mentally snorts, because it seems that ever since Danny has woken and started improving, they've managed to find every excuse not to return to Hawaii; they're trying to secure a job back at his old precinct; preparing for his sister's wedding; his father's reunion; anything that prevents them from leaving the mainland just yet. Steve mentally tells himself he was right in not telling the Williams' about Danny's accident straight off, because in the short time he's known them, he's come to realise that they prefer to care from afar, can't handle messy situations very well, glad that Steve has stepped up for them so they don't have to.
"Look, Danny..." Steve starts, unsure what to say, because his friend is a detective, a bloody good one, and there's only so many times he can deflect the questions about Rachel and change the subject to something completely unrelated to marriage.
"Just tell me." Danny sighs, the determination in his eyes burns through to Steve's soul. He chews his lip, the does-he-doesn't-he war raging on, scratches his head, runs his hand down over his face, over the rough stubble he keeps meaning to shave.
"Okay." He nods, finally giving in. "But you're not going to like it."
Say Something.
Danny hasn't spoken a word since Steve told him, and Steve regrets it. He watches Danny's evasive eyes fill with salty water, tears roll down his cheeks, his brow furrows tightly, face twisting with pain. And then he takes a deep, shaky, somewhat wheezy breath, and any expression falls from his face as he rubs a calloused hand over it, leaves it a blank canvas until he looks back at Steve and the cycle starts all over again. To begin with, Steve opens his mouth to speak, but nothing escapes his lips, and after several attempts he decides it's better he stays quiet. Doesn't blame Danny for hating him right now, ignores the tightness in his chest when he remembers that's he's a nobody to his best friend, and then recalls Danny telling him it took six months the first time, so why should this time be any different?
They both look up as a nurse enters the room, her face apologetic as she has no idea she's not actually inturrupting anything, a tray of crappy hospital food in her hands. She places it on Danny's table, pushes it closer to him, and then leaves, parting with a polite smile. Danny grabs straight for the Jello cup, shoves the plate of slop away, tears the lid off all too loudly and shovels a spoonful in his mouth, eyes somewhat avoiding Steve.
Steve shifts in his seat, remembers holding Danny's hand wishing he'd wake, wishes it was more simple. He watches his friend scoop another spoon of the desert into his mouth, his chest aching at the haunted eyes that try not to fall on him. Wonders if it will ever change. Clears his throat, feels awkards when the spoon freezes mid air, jello wobbling proudly, eyes darting to his face. Steve feels his face warm, but isn't stupid and grabs the opportunity whilst it's there.
"So, Grace came second in the spelling bee competition a couple of days ago."
"Right." The spoon lowers, settles back in the pot that's played with in trembling hands. "Wow, second. That's good, right? I mean, she's good at spelling?"
"Yeah, yeah she is." Steve affirms, edges closer in his seat, fishes in his mind for something else, anything else, to keep Danny talking to him. "She says Step-Stan helped her learn, but he's no Danno." Smiles softly. "She'll come first next year, with you helping her."
"Yeah." Danny nods, seems to be processing the information, and places the Jello cup back on the tray, his appetite lost. "Next year. Can you, please, tell me about her?"
"Of course." Steve nods eagerly. "She's great, Danno. Has your spirit and her mothers looks. She loves surfing, oh, and has almost every brownie badge; I think she's gonna be a cop, just like her Daddy."
"Really?" The corners of Danny's mouth twitch upwards.
"Really. She loves to hang out with you; baking or hanging at the office. She plays tennis, too."
"Tennis? That's not even a real sport." Danny snorts automatically, and Steve's mouth plays at a smile as he remembers him saying something similar the day he'd first met Grace. "When can I see her?"
The question takes Steve by surprise, and he's not sure why, because he's seen what a great father Danny is, and shouldn't expect that to change just because of a brain injury; being a good Dad runs bone deep, an instinct, something far more powerful than any brain matter.
"Soon." Steve eventually nods, because even though Grace knows Danny is sick, he isn't sure she grasps just how sick.
Danny nods, this time allows the smile to settle on his mouth as he rests his head back on the pillow, closes his eyes. Enough for today.
It takes six weeks for Danny to recover enough for the doctors to be less concerned, the hope that Danny can return to normal life quicker than they'd anticipated evident as they carry out basic neurological tests – Danny passes them almost as if it never happened.
Week one, Steve fills Danny in on most of the important parts of the past ten years; the messy divorce and Rachel's remarriage; Grace's first words, her nickname for Danny, her favourite hobbies and surfing skills; his relationship with Gabi from beginning to end; the four different apartments he's moved into and out of again in the search of the perfect home here on the island; how they'd come to meet, how they'd come to form Five-0 with Chin and Kono; Matty's criminal endeavors. At first Danny seems to be going into shock at the relay of new information, he screws his face up several times as he tries to recall any of the times Steve tells him about, has a few more silent siezures before the doctors can get the medication right to prevent them.
By week three, he can even talk about the Divorce without his eyes watering, and Steve suspects that whilst his brain can't remember grieving the end of his marriage, his body can and that eases the pressure slightly.
On the Thursday of the fourth week, Danny walks to the end of the corridor and back to his room again, without the aid of his therapist. He sweats, dripping pure determination, and looks pale, needs a walking cane and pretty much collapses into his bed as soon as he reaches it, but it was a success, and he looks proud as the therapist swings his legs up for him, covers them with the thin sheets. Steve grins proudly too, the victory in the air between them, and they clink their plastic hospital cups full of water in a celebatory toast, before Danny sighs, wipes the sweat from his forehead, closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.
On the sixth Saturday, by the time Steve get's there, Danny's managed to pull himself from his bed and dress himself. He's stood at the small sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror; face covered with a mix of beard and shaving foam, a large scar on the hair line that's still pink with visible stitches. It's not as painful anymore, but still fairly sore, and he tries to avoid frowning so the stitches don't pull. He watches Steve enter the room in the reflection, takes his eyes from the scar, and continues shaving, as if the wound doesn't hold a secret he's desperate to reveal.
"You're starting to look normal." Steve jests, taking his usual spot in the visitors chair. "Heard from your Mom yet?"
Danny looks at him through the mirror, tries not to slice his skin as he replies.
"No, nothing. Have you heard from your sister? Mary, is it?" He replies, remembering that Steve had told him of his sisters latest venture; becoming a single Mom. He doesn't remember Mary, or the relationship that they had, but the warmth in Steve's tone, the love in his eyes, tell Danny all he needs to know; she's family to the both of them.
"Yeah, she's doing great. Joan has started to teethe again, so she's getting sleepless nights. Hey, bu thankful you don't remember those times. I wouldn't want to go through them, and I've trained for a lot worse." Steve laughs lightly, doesn't miss the anguish that Danny tries to hide. "Kono will bring Grace after she's picked up some shave ice. Are you sure you're ready?"
Hestitation.
"Sure." A casual shrug.
"Because if you're not, Grace will understand..."
"I said I'm ready." Danny snaps, his hands slamming down on the rim of the sink, the razor clanging. Danny scrunches his face against the hot pain ripping through his head, fights the seizure waiting to grab him, the medication holding it back just enough for him to focus on the dripping faucet, bring his blood pressure back down, his breathing back to normal. "I'm sorry." He apologises.
"Hey, it's okay." Steve says, as Danny turns to face him, his eyes directed at his feet, at his odd socks. He doesn't remember picking out odd ones, was sure they matched.
"What if...I'm not who she thinks I am?" Danny asks, his eyes finally meeting his new-old friends'. "What if I've changed?"
"You have." Steve nodded, no evidence of humour on his face. "But she knows that. Me, Kono and Chin have all talked to her at length about it. She's okay with you being different." Danny lifts his hand up, pushes the hair back even flatter on his head, making Steve smile slightly; some things will never change.
"But..." Before Danny can finish, the door swings open quickly, and big brown eyes focus on him, wide to begin with, and then slowly shrink to normal, relief evident. And then Danny's stumbling backwards into the sink unit, as brown hair and tanned skin smash into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his midsection, her face pressing into tummy, tears wetting his clean shirt. For a second, he doesn't move, the movement all too quick for him to register at once, and then, when the room stops spinning and the pain in his head subsides, he looks down at the daughter his brain doesn't remember, but his heart knows well. He drops the razor, wraps his arms around the little girl hanging on to him as if her life depends on it, ignores Kono as she reaches for Grace to remind her to be careful, plants a big, wet, kiss on the top of her head.
"Grace." He whispers into her hair.
"Danno." She squeaks back, squeezing tighter. They stand there, arms wrapped tightly around each other, for an immeasurable amount of time, and only separate when Danny starts to feel faint, the adrenaline slowly receding from his veins.
Stage 7
Acceptance
"Welcome home!" Cheers erupt as Danny opens the front door, Grace, Kono and Chin at the front of the crowd, holding up glasses of champagne. Danny turns and looks at Steve, shocked, and Steve grins, because he remembers the time Danny told everyone not to bother making a fuss for his birthday last year, and then carried on to moan for the following months when nobody planned a surprise party to celebrate.
"Welcome home Buddy." Steve lightly chuckles, as they both step over the threshold; Danny using his cane and Steve carrying the two bags holding ten weeks worth of belongings in.
"Wow, guys, thanks." Danny smiles to the crowd, doesn't recognise any of the faces other than those who visited him for the past few weeks, but smiles all the same. Grace rushes up to him, holds out a glass of champagne for him to take, and Danny can't believe he forgot how in love with her he is, or how he doesn't remember the best ten years of his life. He takes the glass in his spare hand, turns to face his guests, eyes the hosts suspiciously, before addressing everyone.
"Wow, thank you all for coming; believe me, it's a complete surprise. Commando here didn't give a single thing away." Light laughter echoes around the room. "As many of you are aware, I can't remember most of you, but thanks for coming any way. I'm looking forward to getting to know each and everyone of you. I've been told so many stories of each of you, and I have to say it means the world to me that so many of you have been there throughout my recovery..." looks at the group of Five-0 members "...even if I have been a giant pain in the butt." He smiles, raises his glass. "Not everyone gets a second chance, or a reboot, and this is mine...so here's to the future...or my past...or whatever. Cheers."
The room vibrates with cheers, glasses raising in the air, and then a temporary silence as everyone sips at their drink before conversations between guests erupt in the small house. Danny approaches the team of people who've become fairly familiar to him, gives Kono and Catherine a peck on the cheek and shakes hands with Chin.
"Thanks for the homecoming."
"You're welcome." Catherine smiles as Steve wraps an arm around her waist.
"We couldn't miss the opportunity for a party." Chin laughs gently. "Welcome home Brah."
"Oh and I really wanted to show you the new alarm system I had fitted for you!" Kono claps her hands with excitement, before pulling a small device on a cord from her pocket and placing it over Danny's head, allowing it to rest on his chest, before sticking it to the bare skin below his shirt. "This monitors your pulse, and brain signals, and if it shows you have a bad seizure, it sends an alarm to the hospital, ambulance dispatch, and each of our cell's, so we can get here as quickly as we can!"
"Wow, um, thanks."
"We're going to look after you." Kono continues. "And when you come back to work, it's desk duty only. For at least, at least, six months."
"Back to work...?"
"You are coming back, aren't you?"
"Well, I..." Everyone looks to Steve, who smiles softly.
"There's an open position for a Detective on the team. I was just about to put an ad out..." He says with mock sincerity.
"Not for another week. I need a week off just to recover from this party."
"Don't you think you've had enough time off? You're getting lazy." Chin laughs.
Danny raises his hands, everyone holds their breath.
"I got shot in the head. In. The. Head. Don't you think, just for once, I can have some time off, just to recuperate? I mean, Rambo here, hasn't even apologised. Where I come from, when you get someone shot, you apologise! And I've been told, from a reliable source, that we went into that place without any back up! Who's bright idea was that? Because I can sure tell you, it wasn't mine! If we had followed the correct police procedure..." Hands still, midair, as Danny looks at the faces of people trying not to laugh. "What is so funny?!"
The friends bark out laughter, and Steve slaps Danny gently on the back, lifts his glass of champagne to toast Danny.
"Good to have you back, partner."
The End
