WARNING: This chapter contains emotional content WRT death, grief and guilt; continue at your ow discretion.
Matt has to try and come to terms with the fact that Gabriel is dead; Steve is offering a supportive shoulder.
Note to the guest review on this chapter: 1) I've always understood hazel eyes to be similar to so-called 'mood eyes', meaning they change color depending on lighting/surroundings/clothes/etc. Not necessarily brown, but also green, blue and even grey. Difference of interpretation? 2) This story is still about Steve, trust me. Just bear with me. 3) If I manage to get you this angry at Doris, I must be doing something right *grin* 4) Thank you for the compliment on my writing. However, even though it would be a shame if you did not stick around 'till the end of the ride, if the plot really is that upsetting to you, please feel free not to read it anymore.
14. LETTING THE DOGS OUT
Steve calls in for a forensic team on the way over. When they arrive ten minutes later, HPD is already on the scene.
"What's the situation?"
The young officer coughs nervously. "We have one dead person, Commander. A detective from the LAPD."
Steve feels himself grow cold, then asks quietly: "Where is he?"
The young officer nods.
As Steve turns, he sees Matt hunkered down next to a little red Nissan. Walking towards Matt, Steve gets a better view of what he's kneeling next to. Or more accurately, who. It's Gabriel, his throat cut, his midsection a bloody mess; his dark eyes are staring at a point somewhere on the ceiling of the parking garage, but Steve knows he's not seeing anything.
It's not the first lifeless face he's ever seen, but this ... this is different. He feels a lump in his throat, grief bubbling up; then anger. They couldn't save him. They failed. He hears Lou utter a soft "Oh son-of-a-bitch!"
Danny just stands there, one hand at his mouth, then both hands running through his hair as he turns away, his eyes glistening with tears.
"Matt ..." Steve puts his hand on Matt's shoulder, and he feels he's shaking. His heart goes out to the man who has just lost his partner and good friend, and he realizes he must be shocked to the core. All their precautions, all their safety measures have not been enough to save Gabriel. He squeezes the shoulder, trying to convey his understanding, his sympathy, his innate sense of failure.
As Matt turns around, Steve realizes the shaking is not the result of Matt crying; the man is shaking with fury, every muscle tensed and quivering; the eyes looking back at Steve nearly pitch black, liquid with hot rage.
Matt's voice, when he finally speaks, is a low, cold growl. "I'm gonna kill him! I'm gonna hunt that little fucking rodent down and then I'll tear him limb from fucking limb!"
Steve sees unadulterated murder in his eyes and doesn't doubt Matt's words for a second. He only hopes they'll catch Rafa before Matt gets a hold of him.
Danny's voice next to them sounds subdued and quiet. "Matt? Hey Matt? I think you need to get back to the hospital. You've been bleeding pretty bad."
Steve's eyes drop down as Matt himself looks down at his t-shirt. The left side is drenched with blood, and a lot of it has seeped through into his sweat pants, down to his leg. "Hey man, I think Danny's right. We need to get you looked at by the doctor."
Matt shakes his head, his eyes going back to Gabriel. "Can't." He looks up, tears now in his eyes. "Can't leave the kid here. He has nobody else, Steve." The sadness and sorrow in Matt's voice are heart breaking.
Steve sighs, then puts a hand on Matt's shoulder again. "We'll stay here until Max Bergman arrives, OK? When he takes Gabriel back to Pathology, then we'll get you back to the hospital."
Steve's not sure if Matt has heard him, but he decides that's how they'll do it. Matt is in obvious need of medical care, but he knows he won't be able to make him move from Gabriel's side. They silently stand vigil next to the young detective's body for another ten minutes until Max arrives.
The little pathologist coughs softly to announce his arrival. "Gentlemen, I offer my sincerest condolences. Detective Martinez was a very likeable man with a good eye for details, I must say."
Matt stares at him, then nods curtly.
"Now, please allow me to examine the, ehm, body so I can ascertain certain facts regarding his death." As Matt shakily stands up, Max eyes grow wide at his bloody t-shirt. "Detective Sterling, is your t-shirt something which might need to be secured in order to correctly process this crime scene?"
"No Max, the blood is not from Detective Martinez" Steve clarifies.
Max nods, understanding. "Ah, I see. In that case I would suggest that Detective Sterling seek medical aid at his earliest possible convenience. From what I can see, the amount he has lost may start impairing his functioning fairly soon."
Steve frowns, and turns around to Matt. He can see he is very pale, and none too steady on his feet, watching Max's every move like a hawk.
"Lou, think you could go over to the main lobby and get a wheel chair?" Steve quietly asks the big man standing next to him. "I think Matt here might need one in a minute or so." Lou looks at Matt, then nods and heads out to the lobby.
"Max, do you think you can close his eyes?" Danny sounds subdued. He's watching Max's quick inspection of Gabriel's body, but is seriously upset by the young man's eyes still staring into infinity. He is deeply disturbed to see those soulless eyes, which recently still sparkled with boyish humour and quit-witted intelligence. He doesn't think it does Matt any good either.
Max looks up, then glances over to Matt. Almost compassionately, he says: "Detective Sterling, would you like to do the honour of closing his eyes? I have processed everything I need for now, you may touch the body if you like."
Steve and Danny watch quietly as Matt nearly stumbles forward, then kneels next to Gabriel. He gently touches the young man's face, whispering "I'm sorry, kid. I'm so sorry!" Then he glides his fingers over Gabriel's face, and when he removes his hand they see the eyes are closed. Forever.
When Matt gets up again, he falters. Steve and Danny move forward simultaneously and catch him just as his knees start to buckle. "We got you, Matt. Hang on, Lou will be back in a minute and then you can sit down, OK?" Steve sounds gentle as he slings Matt's left arm over his shoulder, being careful not to touch the left side of his upper body.
Matt is not uttering a word; he watches as Gabriel's body is carefully placed into a body bag. Just then Lou comes back with a wheel chair, Matt's doctor at his side. The doctor takes in the scene of the body bag being zipped up, then placed gently on a gurney. Lou apparently has filled him in on the situation, because the young man turns towards Matt with a serious look on his face.
"I am very sorry for your loss; this must be horrible for you."
The sincere words are not acknowledged; Matt just stares as two men slowly roll the gurney towards the exit of the parking garage, then pick it up and place it in the back of the coroner's car. As the car drives off, Matt turns and looks at the pool of blood next to the car. There's a tear slowly rolling down his cheek.
At Steve's nod, he and Danny gently nudge Matt towards the wheel chair. The three Five-0 members accompany the doctor and Matt back to the hospital. Once back in his room, the doctor and Steve carefully take off Matt's t-shirt, then the doctor examines the wound in his shoulder. "Looks like you tore part of the new tissue open, Matt. I'll put in a few new stitches."
Matt remains quiet the whole time while the doctor puts on a pair of gloves, gives him a local anaesthetic, cleans the wound and then deftly puts in three stitches. After putting a fresh bandage on, he snaps off the gloves. "Right, that should do it for now I think. You might want to clean up now; we don't want you to run the risk of an infection."
The fact that Matt still hasn't spoken a single word worries the doctor. He looks at his face, sees the clenched jaw muscles, the deep lines next to his mouth. "I normally wouldn't propose something like this, but I think it may be a good idea if I give you something to sleep. Something that will keep the nightmares at bay."
When Matt looks up, his eyes communicate all the emotions he hasn't spoken. Foremost, it seems as if he tries to convey a plea, begging to be put out of his misery. It leaves the men in the room speechless for a moment.
Scraping his throat, Steve walks up to the bed. "How about I help you get to the bathroom, maybe help you change into some fresh clothes. The doc here" he nods at the young man standing by the bed, "can come back in about fifteen minutes and then give you something to sleep."
Matt turns to look at Steve, seemingly mulling the suggestion over in his mind; then he nods.
"We'll wait outside in the hallway, OK big guy?" Danny smiles at Matt, then opens the door. Lou and the doctor follow him outside into the hallway.
"Is this normal, the way he's just not saying anything?" Lou asks, frowning.
The doctor lets out a little laugh. "Normal is not a term I'd honestly think of using for him." Becoming serious, he continues: "He's had a hell of a shock. And let's be honest, this was about the last thing he needed right now." He looks at Danny. "Do you have any idea what happened, who's responsible for this?"
"Ah, yes, we do actually. Problem is that we don't really have a clue as to where to look for this guy." Danny sounds as frustrated as he feels. At that point his phone rings, and as he looks at Chin's name on the display, he excuses himself to the doctor. "Sorry, but I need to take this call."
Chin's voice sounds emotional. "We heard, Danny. How's Matt holding up?"
Danny sighs. "He's not, actually. Hasn't spoken a word since we got him back to the hospital. Doctor had to put a few new stitches in because he tore his wound to shit running to the garage. Apparently he had Gabriel on the phone when ..." He puts a hand to his mouth, unable to finish his words.
"Oh brah, that's rough! That would drive nearly everybody insane, I think."
Nodding, Danny swallows to get rid of the lump in his throat, then coughs. "Yeah, well, you know, I guess we really need to make sure that we catch this ass-hole. Gabriel was, you know, Gabriel was cool people. We need to get his killer."
Back in the room, Steve is standing at the bathroom door. "Are you OK in there?" When he doesn't get an answer, he opens the door. Matt is leaning against the wall, his eyes closed, his mouth a tight line. "Do you need some more privacy, or can we change your clothes now?"
Matt turns and looks at Steve, then speaks for the first time, his voice dripping with pain. "I heard it all, Steve. I had him on the phone, wanting to make sure he was OK. He just told me not to worry when I heard a gunshot, and then another one. And then ..." His eyes fill with tears, and the next moment he is sliding down the wall, quietly sobbing.
Steve hunkers down next to him, and without thinking throws his arms around him; Matt leans his head on his shoulder and continuous to sob. "Oh shit, Matt! I'm so sorry! That's totally fucked up, man! I can only imagine ..."
He feels anger coursing through his body, anger at himself for failing to protect the young detective, anger at not being able to apprehend Brody and his gang, anger at this Rafa guy who so callously snuffed out the life of a man he had come to like.
The door of the bathroom creaks open, and Steve sees the young doctor peering around the corner. He simply shakes his head, and the doctor disappears again.
"Matt, I know we fucked up, man. I know we should've done something, anything to keep Gabriel safe, and I wholeheartedly apologize for the fact that we weren't able to save him." Steve means every word he says, and he feels Matt's head lifting off his shoulder. When he pulls back, he sees Matt's eyes are bloodshot, his face wet with tears. But he is shaking his head.
"'s not your fault. He was with me, Steve, with me. If anyone's to blame, it's me!" The anguish in his eyes is almost palpable.
"The fuck do you mean?!" Steve's voice sounds indignant. "Serious, man? You're laid up in hospital but it's your fault he got killed?! That's one hell of a self-inflicted guilt trip, don't you think?"
And suddenly Steve grasps the root of Matt's problems; understands it because it is something he can completely relate to. Matt feels responsible. He felt responsible for his girlfriend's injuries, and now feels responsible for the death of his friend. Even though both incidents were the result of circumstances beyond his control, he still feels responsible.
"Matt, listen." Steve's voice sounds urgent as he tries to get through to him. "You are not responsible for Gabriel's death, you hear? First of all, you were injured, you were in the fucking hospital man! And second of all: I think that, no matter how tight we would've run this security detail on him, no matter how closely we watched him, they would've found a way. If not now, then in a week's time, or a month's time. Hell, it could have been another five more years!"
Steve's hazel eyes lock with Matt's brown ones, and he sees the glimmer of a realization appear in them. "That's right, Matt. I know all about being responsible, I know everything about wanting to keep control of things." As he speaks, he thinks that, maybe, he has just experienced a realization of his own. "But the fact is, we can't. It's impossible for us to oversee every little detail, every possible chance to prevent mishaps. We can try, and we're probably damn good at it, but we also fail. And when we do, it's because we're just human, Matt. We're not machines, we're not computers. We're human."
Matt's eyes flick over his face, then he lets out a deep sigh. He slumps back against the wall, running a hand over his face. He's quiet for a minute, letting it all sink in.
"Thank you for that analysis, Doctor McGarrett."
Steve looks at him. "Are you taking the piss out of me, Matt?"
Removing his hand, Matt stares at him. "No man, that's my feeble attempt at hiding the fact that I'm embarrassed about crying on your shoulder." He looks at Steve's shirt. "Now we both need clean clothes." He sighs. "As for your observations, I think you may be spot on."
Steve looks at Matt. The pain is still there, but he looks calmer. "Think you're gonna be OK?"
Matt shakes his head. "No, I don't think I'll ever be OK about this. This will hurt forever." He sighs. "But will I be OK in knowing that there's damn little I could've done, that we could've done to prevent it? Yeah, I think so. At least, that's something I will need to believe."
Getting up, Steve reaches out to Matt. "Come on, let me help you up, then we get you cleaned and into bed." He carefully hoists Matt up from the bathroom floor. "Where can I find clean sweats and a t-shirt?" Matt nods towards a small cupboard in the corner. Steve makes sure Matt is securely leaning against the wall, then opens the cupboard and gets out a change of clothes.
"I think I need clean boxers as well." Steve freezes. When he turns, he sees there's a little smile playing around Matt's mouth. "I'll spare you the indignity of having to help me with that. Just turn your back."
Steve smirks, hands Matt a pair of clean boxers, then turns his back. He hears him grunt behind his back. "Can you manage?"
Some more grunts, then Matt says: "I got the crown jewels all tidied away. You can turn around now." Matt's face is deadly pale again, and his breathing laboured.
"Sit down here" says Steve, as he guides Matt to the toilet. He puts socks on his feet, then sticks them in the legs of clean sweat pants. Next, he carefully guides a t-shirt first over his left arm, then his head and finally over his right arm. Then he helps Matt stand and pulls up his sweat pants. By now Matt is shaking with exhaustion; Steve feels him leaning heavily on his shoulder as they make their way back into the room. The doctor is sitting by the window and jumps up to help put Matt back into bed.
"Good thing we didn't remove your IV cannula yet" says the doctor after Matt is settled in. He sticks his head outside the room, then holds the door open for a nurse coming in with an IV standard. She hooks Matt up the IV, then attaches him to the heart monitor behind him on the wall.
"Now, are you comfortable?" When Matt nods, the doctor takes a syringe from the side-table. "Good, then I hope this will help you get some much needed sleep." The contents of the syringe are injected into the IV line, and Matt's face relaxes almost immediately. Within minutes, he's in deep sleep. The heart monitor beeps with a slow, steady rhythm.
Motioning to Steve, the doctor holds the door and they all step out into the hallway. "Was that a breakthrough he had in the bathroom?" He throws Steve a curious look.
"More of a melt-down, I think" sighs Steve. "But yeah, he may have had a breakthrough as well." The doctor nods. "Seems the two of you, even though I do detect high tension levels between you, have an innate understanding of each other."
Steve frowns. He hasn't thought about it that way, but the doctor may be right; he and Matt do seem to instinctively understand each other, even though both their tempers get in the way more often than not. "Probably because we have similar backgrounds. Something like a professional understanding."
The doctor looks at him. "Well, for whatever it's worth: I think you did him a huge service back there. Matt doesn't appear to me as somebody who easily confides in another person, or trusts somebody else for that matter."
Steve smirks. "That makes two of us then. So, how long will he sleep do you think?"
The doctor shrugs. "Hard to say. He might wake up later this evening, but I think it's safe to say that this will keep him quiet until tomorrow. God knows the man can use some rest."
Steve nods, then walks over to Danny and Lou. "OK guys, how about we go back to HQ and see if we can't corner Brody and his company? I think all this has gone beyond the point of acceptable. We need to put an end to this!"
Joe puts down the phone, frowning. He looks over his shoulder at Doris, who raises an eyebrow.
"That was Steve. Matt's partner, Gabriel Martinez, was killed this afternoon. Seems the gang he infiltrated years ago finally managed to settle their score with him."
He hears Doris exhale with a shocked sound. "Oh no!"
He walks over to the couch, puts an arm around her. "Apparently Matt aggravated his injuries; he went running to try and save Gabriel. They have him under sedation so all this won't set him back too far with regard to his recovery."
Doris is quiet for a moment. "I'm sure that was the smart decision to make. What did Steve want from you?"
Joe sighs. "He had the same question he always has for me, Doris. Did I know where you were?" Doris grins, and Joe emits an exasperated sound. "You really like this cat & mouse game, don't you?" He sighs. "Anyway, he also said he wanted to talk to you about Matt." He looks at her. "Now why would he want to talk to you about Matt?"
"He became suspicious about my motives for being in the hospital the other night. And he guessed a few things that I just couldn't, or didn't want to deny any longer." Doris looks up at Joe. "So I had to tell him part of the truth. How I had promised to look out for the Sterling boys."
Joe's eyes bore into hers. "How did he take that?"
She shrugs. "As he usually does with this type of thing; not believing a word, second-guessing motives."
Joe grins. "Sounds to me like he takes after his mother." At her indignant look, he hugs her close. They sit quietly for a while.
"I could try and see whether some of my old contacts have anything on unusual drug shipments coming off Oahu."
Doris looks at Joe, who sighs. "I'm not sure Steve will be too pleased if he learns us 'old folk' are butting into his affairs."
Shrugging, Doris calmly states: "He'll live. And if we can help solve this, it will make matters easier for us as well."
Joe raises an eyebrow. "Honey, do you ever do things without a hidden agenda?"
As she shakes her head, smiling, he sighs again.
It has been dark for several hours already when a figure moves stealthily across the porch of the house on Ohai Street. It freezes at the sound of a creaking chair, then a voice speaking from the dark.
"Is it happy tidings yer bringing?"
The figure relaxes. The flare of a lighter shows the gaunt face of Rafa, his dark eyes peering at where the voice is coming from. The flame disappears at the audible *click* of a Zippo, followed by the pungent aroma of tobacco.
"Depends on who you like to be happy; you, or that cabron Martinez."
Brody sighs. "Now don't be a tool, Rafa. I'm not in the mood to play Twenty Questions. Did you get the job done?"
A snigger can be heard. "Aye, Irish, the job is done. One less rata to worry about."
Rafa hears Brody utter a content sigh. "Good."
It's been a rough ride for the guys.
Doris just can't help herself in using a hidden agenda in everything she does; how much longer can she keep everyone in the dark?
And Brody and Rafa ... it's about time they were put away!
Thank you if you're still here; hope this hasn't been too upsetting.