H50H50H50
91 days
Steve's barely across threshold of his house when Eddie bounds across the living room to welcome him. Kneeling down, he braces for the onslaught. Eddie doesn't need any more encouragement: with a happy woof he flings himself into Steve's arms.
Steve gets to his feet when Eddie eventually loses interest and wanders off. Danny's standing a couple of steps behind him, only just inside the door. He's been like a human shadow ever since they left the hospital. Something inside him eases when Danny steps up beside him and threads their fingers together. When he looks down Danny smiles back at him but it's weak at best. He's radiating anxiety, fidgeting on the spot.
"Gonna put these in the laundry," Danny says, gesturing to the sports bag slung over his shoulder. "Get comfortable, babe. I'll fix us something to eat."
Steve opens his mouth to say something. As Danny disappears into the kitchen he closes it again. It's his fault Danny's anxious, that he needs to comfort-cook. Frustrated he takes a step forward, stops. He's been dying to come home, he's been fucking dreaming about it. It's his sanctuary; their sanctuary. The last thing he'd expected was to walk in and feel…off.
Annoyed, he scans the room. The TV's not quite in its normal place. The sofa's been moved too. Charlie's Disney DVDs are still stacked where he left them. Grace's books are on the dining table, undisturbed. There's a faint aroma of stale takeaway and fried beef. The fried beef he recognises instantly; Junior cooks it as a treat for Eddie. Searching further, he spies a gap on the floor: there was a rug there, it's disappeared. Staring at it causes a ripple of unease in his mind. Turning away, he heads for the kitchen.
Opening the kitchen door, his heart rate speeds up. The kitchen's empty. There's noise coming from the garage: the door to the garage is open. Keeping one eye on it, he sidles towards the drawer with the spare gun. He's almost there when common sense kicks in again – they haven't got intruders, it's just Danny doing the laundry.
By the time Danny comes back in a few minutes later, he's got his heart rate and breathing back under control. Almost. He can feel Danny's eyes boring into his back though. Needing a distraction, he opens the cupboard where he keeps his meds.
His physician has prescribed him a new regime of meds, along with the antibiotics he's still taking. They'd been in the sports bag. Danny's already put them in the cupboard, neatly lined up with the rest. He's back to monthly check-ups too. He'd been bitterly disappointed when his physician had told him. It had felt like a huge step backwards. Right now though, Danny's still watching him. Retrieving his red pen, he goes to cross out the days on the calendar he's missed.
"I've already done them," Danny says from just beyond his shoulder, making him jump. "Um…actually I did one of them…Junes did the rest."
Steve turns. His heart sinks at the guilt on Danny's face. He can guess why Danny did it: a need for normalcy, a self-defense mechanism against what was going on. He looks back at the endless lines of red crosses, every single one a testament that he'd stuck to his regime. His eyes slide over the new drugs he's now got to take. "It doesn't matter," he says, slamming the cupboard shut. "It was a stupid idea anyway."
"Babe—"
He opens his arms. "Come here."
Danny walks into them like he's sleep walking. He hooks his good arm around Steve's waist. Steve pulls him in closer. They stand, locked together. It helps - having Danny next to him always helps. But it's still not enough.
With a huff of frustration, he pulls away. Danny's bewildered expression stabs him in the heart. Before Danny can say anything he grabs his hand. Leading him out of the kitchen, he detours just long enough to reset the house alarm then he heads for the stairs. Danny gets on board quickly: one second he's dragging him along, the next Danny's leading him up the stairs.
Steve falters for a second in the doorway of the bedroom. He's here. It's not a dream. Then Danny's tugging insistently, closing the door behind them.
Steve strips off quickly, sliding under the duvet cover. The bed's soft, instantly welcoming. He closes his eyes for a second, lets out a long breath. When he opens them again, Danny's watching him, his eyebrows one long line of worry.
Looking down, he sees what Danny sees. It's been a week since he was rescued but the skin on his torso is still marbled with bruising. He's lost a few pounds too. The wounds around his wrists are healing, the dressings have been removed. But they're not pretty. The rest of his body doesn't look that good either.
Danny's expression darkens. Uncertain, he takes a step back.
Steve grabs the other corner of the duvet. Throwing it back, he grabs Danny's arm and pulls. There's a moment of hesitation then Danny's sitting down on the edge of the mattress. Slowly he gets undressed. Getting the tee-shirt over the cast on his arm is problematic. Leaning over, Steve helps him wiggle it over his head.
As Danny slides into bed beside him, his breath catches in his throat. Anger flares in his chest. Danny's body is as battered as his is. He's not sure where to touch.
Danny makes the decision for him; he leans in for the first kiss. It's soft, full of love. But it's too tentative. Arching up, Steve returns the kiss, putting everything he's feeling into it. Danny hums in reply.
Carefully they explore each other's bodies, touching with their lips and hands. It's not sexual, not even passionate. By the end they're both shaking. Arms and legs entwined, they lay face-to-face.
"Jesus, Danny. I thought…I thought I'd never..."
"I know, babe. I know."
The anguish in Danny's voice nearly undoes him. Still shaking, he shuffles them around until Danny's back is resting against his chest. Using his own arm as a makeshift pillow, he supports Danny broken arm. Placing his lips on Danny's hair, he gives him another kiss.
"Go to sleep," he whispers when Danny shifts as if to get up again. It's only mid-afternoon but neither of them have been getting much rest.
Danny tenses. "You need to eat and—"
"I'm good." Gently, he shifts his grip across Danny's chest, holding him in place. He doesn't want to argue. Not now. Not here.
When Danny relaxes, burrowing in further, he smiles with relief. Placing his lips on Danny's hair again, he listens. Gradually Danny's breathing evens out, his body a warm deadweight leaning against him.
His smile dies as he stares at the ceiling. Even the short trip from the hospital has exhausted him. His body is screaming for sleep too. He doesn't want to close his eyes though. Every time he does there are nightmares waiting for him.
The click of Eddie's claws on the hallway floor are a welcome distraction. He listens as they come closer, then stop. There's the sound of snuffling under the closed bedroom door, then shuffling and a soft thud.
There's something reassuring about knowing Eddie's on guard duty. Having Danny in his arms – a warm, solid presence – it's helping too. Outside he can hear waves lapping against the beach. His heartbeat speeds up when he hears voices outside. He's about to reach for the nightstand drawer, his spare revolver, when he's realises it's his neighbours.
Heart thudding, he stares at the ceiling again.
This will get better, he reminds himself. He's been here before. Back with Danny, in their home – together - it's gonna be fine. It has to be.
Gradually he loses the battle to stay awake. As his eyes slide closed he tightens his grip on Danny. The last conscious thing he's aware of is Danny muttering under his breath, shuffling higher, slotting perfectly under his chin.
He dreams of his Dad and Victor Hesse.
H50H50H50
94 days
Danny's chopping onions for his tomato pasta sauce when he hears a truck pull up outside. He stops. Listens. Knife still in his hand, he goes to the kitchen window.
It's Lou's truck.
Refusing to open the door isn't an option. He thinks about it though. Lou's one of his closest friends. That's the problem - Lou knows him too well. Sighing, he goes to the front door and switches off the house alarm. Opening the door, he heads back to the kitchen. Lining up another onion, he starts chopping again.
The front door opens and closes. Eddie woofs in welcome. Heavy footsteps cross the living room.
"You expecting guests?"
Shrugging with one shoulder, Danny turns. Wiping his hands on his apron he goes for a non-descript half-smile. "No. You'll take some right?"
Lou raises one eyebrow.
They stare at each other across the kitchen island. On top of it are five trays of cooked lasagne. The kitchen is full of the aroma of cooked beef and melted mozzarella.
"Sure," Lou replies, his eyes narrowing, "why not."
Danny rubs at the cast on his arm. He's got tomato sauce on it. It's turning pink as he rubs it in. "You wanted something?" There's silence. Reluctantly he looks up. The sympathy in Lou's eyes makes him glad they've got the table between them: pasta has always been his comfort food of choice.
"You don't call, you don't write," Lou says, his smile belying the worry in his voice. "I know we agreed you and Steve needed time on your own but you've gotta give me something. Me…the team…we're worried. And Junior…man, he's climbing the walls."
"We're good. Really good. Peachy."
Lou glances around the kitchen. "Peachy. Right." He turns his attention back to the table. Counting with his eyes, he looks up to meet Danny's gaze. "Where's Steve?"
Puffing out his cheeks, Danny turns his attention back to the tomato sauce. "Outside. On the beach."
"Swimming? I thought the Doc said swimming was out for two weeks. He was worried about infection and—"
"He's just sitting there." Danny retrieves a ladle from a drawer. He stirs the sauce. Tasting it, he adds more seasoning. "That's what he does. Goes to the hospital, sits with Sean. Comes home. Stares at the sea."
"Stares at the sea?" Lou's lips turn down as he considers that. "How's Sean doing?"
"Better." He huffs. "According to Steve." He pauses, staring into the cooking pot. His heart sinks as Lou pulls out a stool from under the table. It creaks as he sits down.
"How you doing?"
Danny schools his features to neutral. He looks back over his shoulder. "Me? I'm good."
Lou's eyebrow skips upwards again. "See, you keep saying that. And I wanna believe you. I really do. But this…" He trails off, his eyes sweeping across the table. "…this is setting my spidey senses tingling."
Danny stares at the bubbling sauce. Shoulders drooping, he turns down the heat under the pot. Lou's not going to give up.
"I worry too much," he says, pulling out a stool for himself. "It's nothing." Rubbing his hands across his face, he considers his options. He could just shrug this off, he knows Lou wouldn't take it personally. But the last few days have been hard, too hard. Exhaling slowly, he meets Lou's eyes.
"It's like…when I first met him, he used to do this thing…you'd look at him and on the outside he'd be like…like some ninja superhero…hanging bad guys off roofs, feeding them to the sharks. But inside—"
"—inside he was a mess?"
"Yeah." Danny stares at the table top as memories creep up on. Sighing hard, he taps the side of his head. "He'd…um…he'd go hide, in here."
"And that's what he's doing now?"
"Kind of." He raises his eyes again, meeting Lou's gaze. Guilt washes over him. He feels like he's betraying Steve, even though Lou is one of their closest friends. "It's not as bad as back then." Steve's shutters aren't pulled all the way down. "It's just…he won't talk about it, tell me what happened."
Lou leans down, until they're on the same level. "That's the way he's wired, man," he says sympathetically. "It's his way of dealing. It takes…time."
Danny shakes his head. "That's just it, Lou. He's…er….he's not dealing. He feels guilty. He's been having nightmares. Bad ones. They started in the hospital but I guess I figured…back home…being here would help."
"Nightmares? About what happened on the boat?"
"Maybe." He scrubs at his face again. God, he's so tired. "He..um…he's mentioned his Dad." He glances out to the living room. He's always known that ghosts walk in this house. He's never expected any of them to come back to life.
"Oh."
From Lou's tone he knows his friend has read between the lines, understood the problem. This case with Fedorov, it has similarities with what happened with Steve's dad. Similarities that hadn't occurred to him until they'd come back from the hospital. "They could have killed us," he whispers into the heavy silence. "We nearly died, here."
Lou pinches his nose. "The nightmares," he asks, his voice muffled by his hand, "does he…mention you?"
Danny can feel Lou's eyes following him as he gets up again to stir the sauce. But this is the one thing he's never going to discuss. He's never going to tell Steve he's screamed his name out in his nightmares. And he sure as hell is never going to let Steve know how guilty those screams make him feel.
"I know Steve wanted to come home but…maybe it was a mistake," he answers instead, his eyes drifting to the corner of the kitchen where Fedorov's man had died.
"Come stay with us."
No. He's thought this over in the early hours, when he's been awake. Turning, he leans against the counter. "It's his home, Lou. It's our home."
"It's gotta be hard, though. Those bastards invaded it. They took away your security. That's tough, man. Really tough." Lou hesitates, looks down at his hands. "Do you feel safe here?"
Danny turns to stir the sauce again. "This place has been targeted more times than Fort Knox," he jokes weakly, waving the ladle to encompass the house. "It's still standing. I think we're good."
"Do you feel safe?"
There's an underlying note of anger in Lou's voice that grabs his attention. Slowly he turns. The two of them have been through some tough days together. There's no point lying to him. Knowing that doesn't make it any easier to explain what's been bugging him though. But he can't keep it to himself any longer - it's acting like an invisible barrier between him and Steve.
"Charlie and Grace…" Running his hand over his hair, he tries again. "They're supposed to be coming over next weekend." His heart sinks as he looks back towards the living room, imagining the space where the rug had been. "I figured…I figured it might help…"
"But now you're not so sure?" Lou says softly, rescuing him.
"If they'd been here when Fedorov's men came..." He shuts the thought down. Fast. Even imaging what could have happened is too hard to face.
Lou shakes his head, sharply. "If they'd been here the alarm would have been on and—"
"You don't know that, Lou." Throwing the ladle on the counter, he starts to pace. "What happens if we forget again, huh? Next time some asshole from—"
"I do know that," Lou cuts in, even and calm. "So do you. And in a week's time, in a month's time, whenever your head is straight again you'll know that too."
Danny stops, tries to listen. It's difficult over the angry pounding of his heart. Resting his hands on the counter, he stares into the pot. "Yeah," he breathes, a moment later. "Yeah, you're right."
"Have you told him? You know, what you're worried about?"
He swallows heavily. "No."
"Does he know?"
Danny considers that. It's a good question. He and Steve, they might not be good at talking but that's never stopped them from knowing what the other one's been thinking. "Maybe." He rubs at his injured shoulder. "I guess I thought...things have been good. You know, since we've been together. I thought that would make it easier."
"Being together?" Lou's expression turns sad. "No. It just makes it harder. You care more. It hurts more."
"Yeah," Danny sighs. "I'm remembering that."
The kitchen window's open, letting in the sounds of the world outside. For a while though they're both oblivious, lost in their own thoughts and memories.
"Got any coffee?" Lou asks eventually, shifting on the stool.
Danny blinks back into the present. "Sure."
On automatic pilot, he takes the kettle to the sink. As he starts filling it with water Lou unfolds himself from his seat. It says something about their relationship that Lou knows where to find the coffee mugs. He pulls out three, and puts them on the table.
"Gonna check on our boy," Lou says when he raises his eyebrows at the extra mug.
"Lou—"
"That lasagne ready?" Lou continues, ignoring his warning. He opens another cupboard, takes out three plates. "I didn't get lunch."
Danny drops his head. The kettle sits forgotten in the sink. "He's not going to eat it," he confesses, suddenly feeling like an idiot for cooking so much food. "Just leave it and I'll—"
"Not a problem," Lou cuts in, his face splitting into a toothy, determined grin. "I've got a big enough appetite for all of us."
H50H50H50
Steve's always found comfort in the sea, the rhythm of the waves. After his Mom died, his Dad was shot, when he needed to escape he'd jump into the sea. Now though, sitting on the beach, it feels like the waves are mocking him. The need to dive in is like a craving. The fact he can't hurts so bad.
Groaning, he stretches out his legs. Eddie's been curled up on his feet, he can't feel them anymore. Leaning down, he scratches the healing wounds around his ankles. They're constantly itching. The blood rushing back to his feet makes it worse.
Eddie wiggles his way through the chair legs. Popping out the other side, he worries at his hand. Ever since he came back from the hospital Eddie's been following him and Danny everywhere. They're all feeling delicate, slightly off kilter. Danny's been taking pity on Eddie, feeding him extra scraps of food.
There's been plenty to go round.
Even on the beach he can smell the lasagne. It's usually his favorite: Danny could make it every day and he'd still eat it. But his stomach roils at the idea of food. The anti-biotics and new meds regime are messing with his stomach. That, and the guilt he feels when he's with Danny.
He'd almost got Danny killed.
His breath hitches at the sudden surge of emotion. It's like being hit centre-chest with a punch. It's the same self-loathing he experiences when he sits with Sean. He should have done more, that's what he keeps thinking. His mind is constantly making up different scenarios, an endless stream of 'what ifs'. What if he'd been focused on the Sunday morning and remembered to reset the alarm. What if his body hadn't succumbed to the infection and maybe he could have helped Eduardo Ignacio and Sean.
What if.
Suddenly Eddie perks his ears up. His tail starts wagging, thudding against the chair leg. With a happy woof, he gets up and bounds off.
Steve frowns, his heart beat quickening. Eddie adores Danny but that welcome wasn't for him. Turning round in his seat he watches as the door onto the lanai opens. He grins despite himself when he realises it's Lou.
His grin slips when he sees Lou is carrying two coffee mugs. He experiences a moment of deja-vu. Exhaling heavily, he gets to his feet. He and Lou became friends because they both needed someone who would challenge them, would make them look closer at themselves, to help them heal. Over the years they've both come closer to healing. But neither of them have relinquished their role of private confessor.
"Danny still cooking in there?" Steve asks, taking the coffee mug that's offered and sitting back down.
"Yeah." Lou sits in the other chair. "Smells real good," he continues, taking his first sip of coffee. "Danny's gonna bring us some in a bit."
"I'm not hungry…" he starts but trails off. He can tell from Lou's face he already knows this. Resting his coffee mug in his lap, he rubs at his temple with his thumb. "I know he's worried about me," he says, regret weighing down every word, "but this…this will pass. I've been here before. It'll be okay."
Lou lowers his coffee mug. He looks out to sea. "He said exactly the same thing."
"He did?" Steve frowns. Sure, Danny's been trying to be upbeat. But they've both been shuffling around each other, trying not to smash each other's fragile façade of normalcy.
Lou turns to look straight at him. "Hmm hmm. Right before he told me the truth."
"Don't—" he warns, going on the defensive but he can tell it's already too late. Lou's a gentle giant – most of the time. But when he's got the bit between his teeth, there's no stopping him. And right now, Lou's just warming up.
Lou puts his coffee mug on the ground. Coming back up, he taps the side of his head. "I know it's easier to hide in there. Trust me, I do. But it's not healthy. You know that. You're got talk to someone—"
"I can handle it—"
"That thousand-yard stare you had going on before I came out here tells me otherwise."
"I was just thinking, that's all—"
"Danny says you've been doing a lot of that."
Steve tightens his grip around his coffee mug. "So what, I can't even think about things without—"
"You've got to share."
Straightening in his seat, he meets Lou's gaze head on. "No. I don't."
"Steve—"
"I can't, okay."
Lou looks away and back again. "You can't share with anyone?" he asks. "Or you can't share with Danny?"
"Lou—" The sympathy in his friend's voice is too much. Getting to his feet, he strides to the water's edge. The waves lap up to his slippahs, teasing as they touch the tips of his toes. He shivers in reaction.
"You can talk to me."
Lou's stepped up beside him. Hands in pockets, he's looking out to sea as well.
Steve takes a steadying breath, then another one. He hadn't realised just how riled up he was. Lou's right – God, he knows he's right – but it doesn't make it any easier. He glances back over his shoulder at the house. Despite everything that's happened there it's still his home. The home he wants to share with Danny.
"It's my fault he was hurt. If the alarm had been on then they would never have—"
"You don't know that."
"I do." He clenches his jaw. None of Fedorov's men would have made it out of the house alive.
Lou huffs under his breath. "I hear you, man."
"When they showed me their photo of Danny…" He breaks off, the memory choking him.
"Hey—"
"I didn't…I didn't know anything could hurt that much, Lou." He stares down at his toes, watches the ebb and flow of the waves. "I've always cared about him but now…"
"It's different, huh?"
"Yeah." He risks a glance over a Lou. Lou nods back in encouragement. He pauses, trying to sort out the thoughts in his head. "Everything's changed. It's a lot…it's a lot to take in."
Lou shrugs "Not everything's changed. You and Danny, you've loved each other for a long, long time."
"I know…but…" He runs his hand through his hair, grits his teeth with frustration. He's never been good with words. And Danny…talking about Danny sets off a maelstrom of emotions that he struggles to articulate. Helpless, he looks over at Lou.
"Now it's the real deal and that makes it worse?"
Thank you. "I feel like I'm letting him down, Lou. Danny and relationships…he took a huge risk for me and now—"
"Letting him down? Are you nuts?"
He half-smiles. "Thanks for that overwhelming vote of confidence," he shoots back. Shaking his head he kneels down to dip his hand in the water. It's cool, the perfect counterbalance to the anger and frustration that's constantly dogging him.
"Pleasure's all mine." There's a pause. Lou clears his throat. "When they gonna let you back in there?"
He looks up. Lou's looking out to sea again. "Another week. Maybe longer. They're worried about another infection."
"Sucks huh?"
So much.
"You told Danny that?"
Steve blinks in surprise. He's pretty sure he hadn't said that out loud. "No." That isn't going to happen. "He worries about my liver. About the drugs. Hell, you know what he's like. He worries about everything."
"That hasn't changed either."
"No. I guess not. It's just…I feel like I'm adding to the list of things he needs to worry about. He shouldn't have to do that."
Lou humpfs under his breath. "You sure that's the problem?"
Steve gives Lou a sideways glance. Lou looks back down at him, steady, supportive, no hint of judgement in his eyes. This is why he's always trusted Lou with his deepest secrets: Lou's been there too.
Dipping his hand in the water, he grabs a handful of sand. Watching it slide through his fingers, he tries again to get his thoughts straight. "I couldn't get out of there," he says slowly, testing it each word as it emerges. "You know, on the boat. Back in the day I could have done it, Lou. Those bastards would've—"
Lou hunkers down beside him, effectively cutting him off. "At the risk of sounding like a broken record – you don't know that either."
Maybe. "The infection…" He swallows, takes a deep breath. "I miss my old body." He looks away, ashamed. "How ungrateful does that sound, huh?"
"Danny understands that. You know that, right?"
Yeah, I know. "I thought they had him. And I couldn't do a damn thing about it because…because…"
"You feel like your body let you down."
He flinches, despite the kindness in Lou's tone. The words sound harsh said out loud. But it's what's been spinning around in his head endlessly. Having them out in the open makes them more real. Blinking, he rubs at his eyes.
Lou sighs, a soft sound full of compassion. "He knows all this. He understands."
"He's got enough to worry about. I know he won't say it but he's worried about Grace and Charlie too. If I tell him—"
"He needs you to talk to him."
There's a note of insistence creeping into Lou's tone that makes him look over.
"He might not have been on the boat with you," Lou continues, his voice low, "but he lived through this with you. You're not the only who's feeling guilty. You're the only person he can share that with. The guilt, the nightmares, it's not gonna get any better unless you talk."
Lou's words hit him centre chest. His mind scrabbles to unpick the nuances, to understand what he's missed. Ever since he woke up in the hospital he's been trying to protect Danny, to stop him being hurt even more. And Danny's been doing the same. They've been so busy trying not to hurt each other they've pushed each other away.
He's saved from replying when the back door to the house opens. There's an excited woof as Eddie comes bounding out to join them. He gives Eddie an ear-rub before looking back towards the house.
Danny's standing on the lanai, one hand raised to shield his eyes from the sun. He used to dream of Danny standing there, of sharing the house with him. It had been everything he'd dreamed of, until Fedorov's men had invaded their lives.
Getting to his feet, he rubs his sand-covered hand on his shorts. Offering it to Lou, he lets himself be pulled in for one-armed hug. It crosses his mind to say thank you. He dismisses it. Lou and him, they're both way beyond needing that.
His fear of hurting Danny is still uppermost in his mind as he heads back across the lawn, Lou close beside him. But Lou's right, some things haven't changed. He and Danny, they've always been there for each other in their darkest moments. They always help each other through. They're gonna make it this time. He just has to share.
To be continued…