Disclaimer: See initial chapter.
A/N-Warnings: This does not wrap up every loose end, and doesn't show Steve getting revenge. It might read as a little sappy at the end. I wanted, in a way, for this to reflect the uncertainty of life, how, when tragedy strikes, things don't always end the way that we want them to end. I know, fiction doesn't need to reflect life, but I would rather, while ending this on a somewhat happy note, leave the other details up to the reader, or maybe, if the muse is willing, add onto this in the form of a "Blacklist" story (whoever runs the Vanishers seems like a perfect candidate for Red's list), or perhaps a sequel to this story.
A/N: Thank you all so much for your wonderful support, and thanks to those who've left reviews that I cannot reply to. Mahalo!
A/N2: Do not forget to check out swifters' awesome story, "Fifteen". It is an amazing and intense read.
Ten days after Steve found Danny, he's released from the hospital and into Steve's care. The physical damage has, for the most part, been taken care of, and healed. Physical therapy appointments have been set up to help loosen and work the damaged muscles in Danny's legs, back, arms, and hands. He'd been kept confined, though Steve hadn't heard this from Danny's lips, he'd had to figure it out by looking at the x-rays and MRIs, and speaking with specialists.
The psychological and brain damage is a different matter, however. Much harder to heal. Danny's brain is sending him mixed signals, and his sensory input is messed up, to put it mildly.
The psychologist, and neurologist's best guess is that the oxygen deprivation, combined with the constant four week long torture had somehow triggered something similar to synesthesia, though it presents itself differently in Danny than it does in most people.
Danny now processes thought in terms of scent and flavor, as well as images, some of which have nothing to do with the words that he's trying to conjure. His speech is halting, mainly because Danny can't call up the right words.
Speech therapy is another appointment that has to be booked, as well as visits to the psychologist and to the neurologist. There are other specialists involved in Danny's ongoing recovery as well.
It's all rather overwhelming, but Steve refuses to give into the despair that's dogging him, and the fear that Danny's mental condition won't (like the doctors are saying) improve much. He's read up on brain damage, and knows that Danny can heal from this. He can learn to talk again. Others have.
Steve will help him deal with the aftermath of the torture; the psychologist will do her part, but she won't be the one waking up at night to coach Danny through a nightmare, or pull him out of a flashback that's been triggered by something which would ordinarily have been mundane. As far as Steve's concerned that's all part and parcel of the partnership that he and Danny have. Danny's had his back, and now he's going to have Danny's, no matter what.
"You ready to go home, Danno?" Steve asks.
Danny's sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, struggling to shove a foot into one of his shoes. The other's already on; Steve had helped with that one, but had backed off when Danny grew frustrated, his face growing red and mouth opening and closing on words that just wouldn't come. It was clear that Danny wanted to do the other shoe on his own, and though he lacked the coordination to do it quickly, Steve knew that it would go a long way toward Danny regaining his independence and confidence in himself, so he'd taken a few steps away and tried not to hover.
That had been almost ten minutes ago, though, and Danny's still struggling to put the shoe on his right foot, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, face a mask of intense concentration. The teddy bear that Kono had gotten for Danny, Merlin, is propped up beside the man as though cheering him along. It's endearing, and heartbreaking at the same time.
Steve's fingers twitch with impatience. He wants to get out of this place. Get Danny home, and settled. Have a simple dinner. Maybe watch some TV, and then go to bed. He doesn't have a lot planned, but he figures that with all that Danny's been through - all that he's been through in looking for him - it'll be enough to start establishing the routine that Danny's psychologist, Dr. Kline, has said is important for him right now.
If there's one thing that Steve's good at, it's establishing and maintaining routines. Something that Danny had, prior to his abduction and torture, ribbed him about.
Danny heaves an audible sigh, and raises his head to look at Steve, brows puckered together in a question, left hand clutching the uncooperative shoe tightly to his thigh. He opens his mouth and Steve can see the struggle there, wants to rush to Danny's side to do what it is that his friend's trying to ask of him, but doesn't.
It's important that Danny tries, that he struggles with finding the right words, even if, more often than not right now, he fails. It's hard to watch, but Steve does, and he gives Danny a supportive smile, relaxes his stance and waits.
"Wou-" Danny stops to breathe, "Would..." his mouth twists, "help...me?" he's panting at the end of the question, and there are beads of sweat on his brow, but he's giving Steve a lopsided smile, that Steve can't help returning with a broad one of his own.
"Sure, buddy," Steve says, and he pries the shoe from Danny's hand, lets Danny guide his foot into it, and then squeezes Danny's knee.
Though it shouldn't be, it's a big thing, Danny asking for help; it's not something that Danny would have done before all of this had happened. He's different. His personality's changed in small, yet significant ways. The doctors have told Steve that it might be temporary, but it could be permanent. There's still much they don't know about the brain, and how it recovers from trauma.
None of this is comforting or especially helpful. Steve misses the Danny he had before all of this. The man who would call him out on his bullshit, and walk a mile with a sprained ankle before stopping to let Steve wrap it. He misses Danny's bluster, and the way he talks with his hands. He misses the arguments. He misses Danny.
The trip home is quiet, and Steve has a feeling that the strain that he senses is rather one-sided. Danny seems content to sit in the passenger's seat, looking out of the window at the scenery. He's smiling much more easily than he had in the hospital. His fingers are buried in Merlin's fur, but there's no tension in the act. Danny is happy. At least as far as Steve can tell. Steve wishes that he could be happy, too, that the idea of this being the new norm for them - a quiet Danny watching the world pass by while Steve sits in the driver's seat and broods - didn't terrify the crap out of him.
"Danny, how would you like it if I invited the team over for a barbecue this weekend?" Steve asks the question as casually as he can. He senses Danny stiffen beside him. "It won't be a lot of people, just Chin, Kono, Lou and his family, maybe we can invite Grace and Charlie, too?"
Danny's answer is a sound of distress. A low keening hum of sorts. He's rocking in his seat, and Merlin's now being treated as the stress-relieving device that he was meant to be. It's mildly alarming (Steve's seen far worse reactions from Danny in the past ten days).
"It's okay," Steve says.
He places a hand on Danny's shoulder, and squeezes. Touch seems to help ground Danny better than almost anything else. He's always been tactile, though, something that Danny has retained through this whole ordeal.
Steve's lips tingle at the thought of what does work better than this when it comes to calming his partner. He can't exactly take his eyes off of the road and kiss Danny now, though, and there's a part of him that feels awful for having kissed Danny at all, because, like it or not, Danny is a vulnerable adult. At least that's what the doctors had said. In Steve's book, it didn't matter that Danny was the one who took the initiative in kissing him, because he hadn't stopped Danny, but had encouraged him. He'd liked it, too, and had wanted more, so he'd taken it.
They'd kissed before all of this had happened, had even fooled around some, but Danny's in no frame of mind to understand the implications of what they're doing, what a kiss with another man really means. What kissing Steve is all about.
"We don't have to have anyone over just yet," Steve says.
Danny doesn't like crowds, feels uncomfortable around the team, and his children. Rachel had taken Grace and Charlie to visit their father once, and had refused to put any of them, especially Danny, through that emotionally fraught experience again. It was heartbreaking, and left all of them determined to do better by Danny.
Danny's humming turns into something far less strained, and he stops rocking in his seat. His shoulders sag a little, and his death grip on Merlin eases a little.
"You feeling better?" Steve asks. He doubts that he'll get a verbal answer from Danny.
There's a nod, and the humming stops. Merlin is once more sitting on Danny's lap, rather than being crushed to his chest. Steve glances at Danny, and wishes that he'd waited until they were home to ask the question.
Danny's face is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and his eyes are glossy with unshed tears. He's staring, unseeing (if Steve's guess is right) out of the front windshield. The smile is gone, and there are lines of stress around Danny's compressed lips.
He's so different, and yet he's still the same man that Steve fell in love with. It hurts, though, to see Danny unable to verbalize the way he used to be able to.
His quick wit, and even quicker tongue are part of what Steve loved about Danny. He loves the man's big heart, and passion for living even more. They're not exactly gone, Steve supposes, they're just suppressed.
He wishes that he had a key to unlock everything for Danny. To give the man back his memories, his ability to speak fluently, and move fluidly.
"Let's just concentrate on getting you settled in tonight," Steve says, glancing once more at Danny, who almost seems relaxed. "How does that sound?"
Danny's mouth opens and closes, and his breathing comes in short gasps of air, but after ten days of watching this, Steve knows not to panic. He knows that Danny's not going into some kind of flashback or shock, he's just trying to find the right word figure out how to say it in response to Steve's question.
You'll have to be patient. Don't fill in the blanks for him, even if it takes him a long time to finish a sentence, or come up with a word. As hard as it will be to watch Danny struggle with this, it is crucial to his recovery.
Steve can almost see Dr. Kline's words superimposed on the windshield as he waits for Danny's response. At the time, he'd said it wouldn't be a problem, and had felt affronted. Now, though, Steve has to bite his tongue so that he doesn't supply a choice of words for Danny: Good, bad, stop treating me like a child, Steven...
Danny settles on, "Good. Thanks." His face is red from the effort, and Steve resists the urge he has to praise Danny for something that used to come naturally for the man. Teddy bear aside, Danny does not have the mind of a child.
The smile returns, though, and Danny leans back into the seat, and he turns his head to watch the passing scenery. Steve wonders if it's a blessing or a curse that Danny doesn't get angry about his inability to articulate, like he would have before being taken. Maybe Steve's angry enough for the both of them, though.
There are no leads on the people who'd taken Danny, and Steve doesn't know what to do with that. If he went chasing after men whose aim was to make other men disappear, what would happen to Danny?
Chin, Kono and Lou want justice for their friend, and for the poor soul who was hacked up - whoever he was - too, but they're at a dead end, and there are other cases that the governor wants them to pursue. Another police detective that he wants them to try out while Danny's on leave - "Just on a temporary basis."
The world is moving on, but it always is. Even when Danny had been missing, the world had continued on its forward march, though Steve hadn't really wanted any part of it. He'd wanted to stop the world and pull Danny out of whatever dark crevasse he'd fallen into.
How is it that that song goes? "I'll stop the world and melt with you"? Steve's not even sure what that means, but that's what he wants to do for Danny, for himself. What he wanted to do when Danny hadn't shown up for work what now feels like a lifetime ago.
Danny places a hand on Steve's arm, drawing him out of his unhappy ruminations, a questioning look on his face as he points behind them. Steve's head swivels, and his heart skips a beat. He's passed the house.
Steve can't help but grin. He knows that he must look a little unhinged right now, because Danny's giving him a look of utter confusion, and worry, and his hand is lingering on Steve's arm, squeezing as if to comfort him, or maybe ask him a question.
"It's okay, we're taking the long way home today," Steve assures Danny.
He knows he's still grinning like a loon, because Danny doesn't release his arm, and his forehead wrinkles with concern as he leans closer to Steve. "Okay?"
Steve doesn't need a full on sentence complete with gestures to know what Danny's really saying. He can almost hear and see Danny's rant at his uncharacteristic behavior: Are you completely off your rocker, because you passed the house up about a mile back. I thought the army taught you better navigational skills. Long way home, my ass. You weren't paying attention to the road at all, were you? Maybe we should've taken Chin up on his offer to drive? Clearly you aren't in the right frame of mind. What am I saying? Of course you're not in the right frame of mind. You haven't been in the right frame of mind since I've met you.
Nodding, Steve chuckles, thinks, You've got that right, I've not been in the right frame of mind since we've met, because you drive me crazy, in more ways than one, realizes that he's having a mental conversation with the Danny in his head (they've had many conversations before, but usually when Danny isn't present) when he should probably be talking to the man who is sitting beside him, in the flesh.
"I'm fine, Danno."
It's just that you remembered where I live without me having to point it out, Steve doesn't say, and I kind of want to kiss you now, just because.
It's a breakthrough, and Steve will have to remember to tell Dr. Kline about it when he sees her at Danny's next appointment. He'll have to tell her that he didn't make a big deal of it either, though it feels like there are fireworks going off inside of him, and he knows that the look on his face is still, quite possibly, mildly alarming.
Danny's memories have been shot to hell, and beyond. Steve still has to remind Danny who the key people in his life are. Kono helped him create a picture book to aid in that. That Danny remembers where Steve's house is...Steve can't help but think of it as some kind of miracle.
Danny purses his lips and narrows his eyes, squeezes his arm, hard.
"Promise." Steve says. He licks his lip, and takes a deep breath. "I was thinking, maybe we could head down to that little diner that you liked so much...eat dinner there?"
He holds his breath as Danny's grip on him goes lax. A myriad of emotions seems to cross Danny's face, before it settles on what looks like determination. Danny sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and nods, then settles back into his seat, hand now resting on Steve's arm.
Steve lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Maybe they'll be serving those macadamia nut pancakes you like so much. I can't remember if they serve them on Thursdays or Tuesdays."
The chuckle is quiet and so completely unexpected that Steve's not even sure he heard it correctly, until he turns to look at Danny, to make sure that he's okay, to make sense of that dry, chuffing sound. There are tears leaking out of Danny's eyes, and his mouth is twisted up at the corners, and he's got Merlin clutched to his chest, and it takes Steve a heartbeat too long to realize that Danny's not in some kind of distress, but that he's laughing. He turns the conversation (one-sided as it was) in his head, and realizes that Danny's laughing at him.
Shaking his head, Steve gives his partner a self-deprecating grin.
"You...ca-can't...reme-mem-ber..." Danny manages to push out the string of words through his laughter.
"Poor choice of words," Steve says through laughter of his own.
It's his first laugh in...he can't remember when, and that, along with Danny's continued mirth, is what makes him laugh even harder.
Things are a long way from being perfect. They may never be perfect, but Steve has a feeling that everything is going to work out alright. Eventually. With a lot of patience and hard work.