THE RETURN

A/N: A belated shout-out to my other half Chris for his assistance in determining which branch of the U.S. military Fullerton should be in. And thanks to my niece B. for her quick preview of this chapter.

CHAPTER 7 - Repercussions

The Aftermath – Repercussions

Steve took a final long look at the sleeping figure in the bed before he stepped out of his spare bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar and following Dr. Bergman out onto the lanai.

"He's asleep, at last." The doctor sighed deeply. "I had to give him a mild sedative, and even that took a while to work. He should be out for a few hours, at least."

"How's he really doing, Doc?" Steve asked.

"Steve, he's in shock. Completely and totally shut down and withdrawn. He's also exhausted and slightly dehydrated, but that's nothing that can't be fixed by lots of rest and some nourishment when he wakes up." Bergman paused, and regarded Steve with a serious look. "Danny shouldn't be alone when he does wake up, and for a while after that, too. He's had a terrible shock, and will be needing some support whether he wants it or not."

"Danno won't be alone, even for a minute," Steve said resolutely. "If I'm not here, then either Chin or Kono will be with him. We have some loose ends to tie up regarding Fullerton, but it's nothing we can't work out in shifts."

"You can count me into that schedule as well, Steve," Max Bergman looked uncomfortable as the conversation drifted into personal terms. "Danny's a good kid. I'd like to make sure he's okay for the next couple of days, if that's all right with you," he concluded gruffly.

"Sure, Doc." Steve looked both touched and surprised by the other man's offer of help. "Anything to help Danno."

"I'll be on my way now," Bergman said. "I've got a 'customer' back at the lab waiting for my attention. But I'll be back later this evening, to check in on you and our boy."

Steve walked the coroner to the front door. "Thanks, Doc," he said, pausing slightly to shake the doctor's hand. "I don't think I tell you often enough how much we appreciate all your assistance."

"You don't!" was Bergman's laconic reply as he left the apartment and headed down the corridor towards the elevator. "See you later, McGarrett."

O o O o O

For the second time that day Danny awakened with an aching, fuzzy head and confusion about how much time had passed. He realized he was lying down, covered with a light blanket; at least this time, he mused wryly, he was more comfortable. Sitting up slowly in the bed and blinking away the slight dizziness, Dan glanced around the dimly lit room and tried to figure out where he was. He reached out to the bedside table and snapped on a small lamp, and immediately recognized his surroundings: the spare bedroom at Steve McGarrett's apartment. For a moment he wondered how and why he had come to be there. Then the memories rolled back into his mind with the force of a big wave: relentless, remorseless, taking his breath away with their intensity, leaving him weak and shaky in their aftermath.

The low murmur of voices coming from the next room intruded into Danny's consciousness, but even as he tried to hear what they were saying, the conversation broke off and footsteps approached the bedroom door. A tall figure stood in the open doorway for a moment, then stepped inside, reaching out a hand to the trembling young man sitting on the bed.

"Danno."

O o O o O

Forty minutes later Danny was comfortably ensconced in a chair on the lanai, a tall glass of fruit juice in his hand. Steve and Dr. Bergman were also there, settled into chairs and relaxing in the quiet calm of the darkness. Despite the late hour, the evening air remained balmy, with only a hint of a breeze whispering around the men. Danny sipped his drink, aware that he was being watched. Steve had hardly left his side since he had awoken, discreetly but insistently helping him from the bed to the shower, and later out to the lanai. Doc Bergman had been observing him with a coolly clinical eye, pressing the large glass of juice into his hand with a muttered "drink up; doctor's orders" in a tone that brooked no argument. Although the obvious concern of his friends gave him a small measure of comfort, the horror of the day was still foremost in his thoughts.

"Danno." Steve's voice broke the silence. Ignoring Bergman's warning glare, the Five-O chief pressed on. "This is the last thing I want to do to you, Danno, but we need to get your statement, as soon as possible. Do you feel up to talking about it tonight?"

Danny gave an inward sigh. Part of his mind wanted to retreat, to go back to the drugged grey numbness of a few hours ago. But the police officer in him recognized that it was important to make his statement now, while the memories were fresh. Taking another long sip of his juice, he straightened his back and looked steadily at his boss. "I'm okay, Steve," he said quietly. "I know we need to do this tonight."

"All right then, Danno," Steve arose from his chair. "Let me get my tape recorder set up, so you only have to do this once." He disappeared into the apartment, coming back out to the lanai a moment later holding a small recorder and microphone. Setting it down on the table, he pressed the 'record' button; he then surreptitiously slid his chair closer to Danny before sitting down again. "Whenever you're ready..."

Dan's face went blank for a moment, as he tried to compose his jumbled thoughts into some kind of order. When he did start to speak, his voice was flat, devoid of expression as he began to recount the events of the day. "I got up early this morning and decided to go for a swim to clear my mind," Danny said. "God, was that only this morning? It feels like last week..." He shook his head in disbelief, swallowing a mouthful of his drink to ease the sudden tightness in his throat.

"What time was that?" Steve asked.

"About six o'clock, I think," Danny replied. "The sun was just up, things were quiet on the beach. After my swim I ended up going for a ... well, a long walk after I saw a newspaper. I'd guess it was mid morning before I got back home.

"When I got back to my apartment Fullerton was already inside," Danny continued, oblivious to Steve's thoughts. "He surprised me, knocked me out and tied me to the chair. When I woke up he was wandering around the apartment, looking through my things and telling me a bit about his ... stay ... at the mental hospital, and about his counselling. It was then that his hold on reality, what there was of it, anyway, began to slip." Dan paused to reflect for a moment. "He began to compare his new life here in Honolulu with mine, pointing out all the aspects in which he felt his didn't measure up. I think he was jealous..." He trailed off, finding it increasingly difficult to continue.

Other than a tightening of his jaw and a quick glance exchanged with Bergman, Steve showed no other outward reaction to Danny's narrative. He realized this had to be incredibly difficult for the young detective to do, and felt a swell of pride at the way he was rising to the task.

"He was stalking me, Steve! For weeks!" Danny suddenly burst out. He was breathing more heavily now, beads of sweat beginning to show on his forehead. "He knew where and when I met my informants, my laundry schedule, even where I liked to surf! And when he decided to start..." Dan faltered slightly, then pressed on. "To start killing people, I led him right to them! Innocent people who did nothing wrong except they knew me!" Danny was clearly agitated now, almost shouting the words. "He admitted he killed them all; even gave me the reasons why! My snitch, because the people he met were boring! The dry cleaner, because he hated the laundromat! My building manager, because my apartment is well maintained and he lived in a dump downtown! Kathy, because she was a pretty girl who talked and laughed with me! And Mark," Dan's voice broke as he fought for control. "The bastard killed Mark because he was my friend, a 'brother-in-arms', something he no longer had!" He stopped, gasping for breath, his hands trembling badly. "All because of me..."

"No, Danno, not because of you!" Steve said firmly, moving forward quickly to rescue the juice glass from Danny's shaking hands. He knelt in front of the younger man, grasping his arms and forcing him to make eye contact. "Fullerton was sick, really sick! He killed those people, not you! You're a victim in this, just as much as they were."

Danny was already shaking his head. "Not quite as much," he said bitterly. "I'm still alive."

Steve was silent, unable to counter Danny's logic. "And then Fullerton..." he finally prompted.

"And then Fullerton said that he had nothing left, that there was one more person who had to die," Danny said, his voice barely audible. "He pointed the gun at me, said good-bye, then turned it back on himself and pulled the trigger." He choked back a sob. "I don't remember what happened after that, I'm sorry..." He slumped back in his chair, tears on his face, completely spent.

Steve reached out and snapped off the tape recorder. "Easy, Danno, easy," he said softly. "We're finished here. It's over."

Danny glanced up at him briefly, then looked away, the blankness beginning to return to his eyes. "Over," he repeated dully. "Yes, I think it is..."

Max Bergman stood quickly and moved over to Danny's side, motioning for Steve to join him as he did so. "Come along, young man, you're completely exhausted. Let's get you back into bed." Together the two men helped Dan up and out of his chair, and slowly guided him into the bedroom. As they eased him down onto the bed, the doctor caught Steve'e eye and pointed to his black medical bag by the door. When Steve brought the bag over, Bergman reached in and withdrew a small bottle of pills. "Here, Danny," he said, slipping a capsule into the young detective's mouth and following it with some water before he had a chance to protest. "A long sleep is what you need, and this will help you tonight."

Steve drew the blanket over the already-dozing form of his friend, allowing his hand to linger and give the trembling shoulder a light squeeze. Danny's breath still hitched in an occasional shuddering sob, but the tension in his features was beginning to ease as the sedative took effect.

After another few moments of watching Danny very closely, Bergman nodded at Steve and pointed to the door, indicating it was all right for them to leave.

Once out of the bedroom, however, the coroner abruptly spun around and jabbed a finger towards Steve's chest. "Was it really necessary to do that tonight?" he growled. "You can see how badly Danny was affected by having to re-live it all, especially so soon! That was a stronger dose I gave him just now, to ensure that he would sleep through the night!"

Steve looked troubled, yet he felt compelled to defend his actions to the angry doctor. "Come on, Doc," he said, a bit impatiently. "You've been around police work long enough to know that I needed to get a statement as soon as possible! And Danno's a good cop; he knew it too!" Steve found that he was pacing around the room, and forced himself to slow down, coming to a stop beside Max Bergman. "Besides, Doc, you know, probably better than me, that talking about it was exactly what Danno needed to do! It's the first step in dealing with it!"

Bergman sighed. "I know, Steve," he admitted quietly. "In the long run, it's probably better that he did talk about it tonight, and with you. But he's got a rough few days ahead, that's for sure."

"We'll be here for him," Steve stated, looking over at the bedroom door. "And now, Doc, you should head home, before your wife begins to think you've forgotten where you live!"

Acknowledging the comment with a fleeting smile, Dr. Bergman retrieved his jacket and black bag, and gave Steve a quick handshake on the way out. "Good night, Steve. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Doc. Thank you again." The apartment door snapped shut, leaving Steve alone in the silence with his troubled, sleeping friend.