Thank you once again for your beautiful reviews and PM's, they really make my day.

Here is the next chapter, pure Steve and Danno here, we are in the middle of the eleventh month after the explosion.
I hope you like it. K.


Chapter 24

REHAB, Steve's room, two and a half weeks later

"You want me to do what?" Steve looked at Danny and then at the pile of empty shell cases lying in front of him. He was sitting in the power wheelchair and Danny had just emptied a bag of used ammunition on the table in front of him.

"Sort them. Sort them by the type of caliber. I talked to your occupational therapist and he said it would be a great exercise for your clumsy fingers if you sort skittles by color. I thought sorting ammunition would be more like something you would do. So start sorting them." Danny grinned at his best friend with a huge smile. Since Steve had overused his shoulder nearly three weeks ago and was mostly unable to do more than laying around and getting passive stretching therapy to keep his paralyzed limbs flexible and well perfused, Danny had tried many different things to motivate his friend. The recovery of his shoulder didn't go as planned and Steve's left arm was still immobilized with a sling. So the man was grumpy and moody most of the time.

"By the way, Duke says hello, he delivered the shell cases this morning after a training at the shooting range. He wants you to practice as much as possible. He's waiting for a shooting contest, says you probably shoot better left handed than he will ever do with his right hand. And Alexander Greene told me that shooting could be a good training for your core stability, although I'm pretty sure that he didn't think about fire weapons but more about archery."

Steve had to smile at the thought of firing a weapon. "I guess, this has to be postponed until further notice. That stupid shoulder is still pretty inflamed and I am not even allowed to rotate my forearm, so the shooting range seems like an unreachable dream. I miss my life, Danno." Steve shot Danny a sad look and started to awkwardly grab one of the shell cases. At least he tried. After it fell off his fingers for the fifth time in a row, he looked at Danny, pouting. "How am I supposed to sort them if I cannot even control my finger movements enough to pick the shell cases up!"

"Patience, Steve. Patience and training. Try again! Where has your famous determination gone?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I have the feeling that the explosion didn't only change my body but also my mind a lot. I used to be locked on target as soon as something caught my interest and now, I cannot even focus on the easiest things. I feel like standing at the foot of a sheer unsurmountable rock." Steve seemed to be lost in his thoughts and unconsciously picked up one shell case after the other and put them aside. "I didn't only lose the use of my legs, I lost my whole life. Everything I was is shattered into pieces. Peter asked me what I am planning to do for a living after my transition, and seriously, I have no idea. I feel like there's nothing I can do. It's hopeless, I am nothing more than a liability."

"Woah, don't drown in self-pity. Look at you, see what you achieved in the last 11 months. At the start we didn't even know for sure if you would be able to breathe independently and now your bitching about not being able to go to the shooting range soon enough. I'd call this a huge improvement!"

"I thought I could cope with what happened to me, but this new setback is taking a toll. Really, I feel like falling into a dark hole and never reach the ground. I hate being out of control so much. Since the paralysis I had learned that there is a lot that I will ever need support with, but that there is also a lot that I can do by myself and take control of. Now, that I'm not only in this wheelchair but have temporarily lost the use of my left arm once again, it feels like it's only getting worse. I cannot even sit up without support because I need two fully working shoulders to raise my upper body. I know you cannot understand how this feels and I hope that you'll never be in a similar situation, but the loss of control is much worse than being paralyzed."

"Oh babe, I cannot even imagine how it must feel to be dependent on the help of others for every single action you want to take, but please, be aware that not all of your limitations are permanent. Your left shoulder is going to heal and now look at your right hand. While you were talking you have sorted half of the shell cases without realizing it. I must say, I don't know if I'm more impressed by you picking the shell cases up without letting them fall off your fingers again or by you sorting them by caliber without even looking at them."

Steve looked surprised at his right hand and then at the neatly sorted shell cases and chuckled. "Well, maybe I could work somewhere in a screw factory and do the quality control."

"Don't be silly, after two days you would screw your co-workers to the wall. But you see that there are things that you obviously can do without thinking about it. Maybe you're too tense and therefore fail with some of the tasks. Did you think about that?" Danny wanted to help his friend so much but it was difficult to really get through to him as Steve's mood was ever changing between chuckling at the one moment and near crying at the next. He seemed so fragile. Danny always feared to ask the wrong question.

"I've been thinking a lot in the last weeks, you know. After a long discussion with Peter, who told me that I'm too focused on my physical limitations to see what I still can do, I tried to find out how my life could be in the future. But all I can see is that I probably won't be able to return to Five-0. I just don't see how I should be an asset the way I am now."

"Are you kidding me? Steve, you're paralyzed, not brain damaged. Well, at least not more than prior to the explosion. Why shouldn't you be an asset? You can still do the talking, interrogations and the wonderful paper work." Danny smiled at Steve.

"Danny, none of the bad guys will be intimidated by a guy in a wheelchair with a resting splint on his arm! That's ridiculous. And if you want me to come back so I can do the paperwork for you, that won't work. Last time I checked I was still your boss, on sick leave until further notice and therefore out of commission, but nevertheless your boss." Steve shot Danny a challenging look and smiled mischievously.

"Congratulations, now you've got it! You're on sick leave, not retired. So would you please start to make some plans for the future finally?" Danny was hopeful to have found a way to get to Steve. "Maybe we can start with the non-work-related things like how will you manage to live at home? Did they already give you any prospects about how much professional assistance you will need when you are back home?"

"Yeah, there are several different schemes. It depends on how much function I'll regain in that right arm. For now, I need assistance while doing the awkward stuff like relieving myself. I only have like maybe 50 percent functionality in the right hand and fingers and to do that stuff safely by myself, I should have anything starting from 70 percent. It's very likely that I won't regain those 70 percent and that would mean that I will need a caregiver once a day for the bowel program. For the bladder, there are other ways for me to do it without assistance. So the self-care is the part that I probably do need someone for. The other tasks like preparing meals and getting the laundry done depends on the remodelling of my kitchen and the laundry room but as far as I know you did quite a good job by supervising the planning. The plan is, that as soon as I can restart the wheelchair training, I should go home for an overnight stay accompanied by a caregiver to see how I get along there and what requirements I will need in addition to those that have already been installed, and then we will train day-to-day tasks here at REHAB for another six to eight weeks before they finally send me home. So, if we would say that I can restart the real physical therapy with the wheelchair in maybe three or four weeks, I could finally move back home in about three months from now. That would be fifteen months after getting injured. By the way, how far along is the remodelling of my house?"

"It looks pretty good. Ramps outside and the lift to reach the first floor are already installed, doorways on the ground floor are widened, your bathroom is still a mess but you can already see that there is progress and the remodelling of the kitchen starts next week. The craftsmen are doing an amazing job, they are working really fast. When they started, the whole remodelling process was supposed to be finished in five weeks from now, but that was before your little shoulder incident, so they have a little more time now. It's going to be great when it's all done."

"I can't wait to see it. You can't imagine how much I miss my home and the scent of the ocean" Steve looked out the window, picturing his backyard and the beach.

"How about we take you over there for a visit? I know, you told me if I take you there you would probably never leave again and skip the rest of your inpatient rehabilitation, but honestly, if we see it as a kind of I don't know, "supervision of the construction work" or something like that? You can easily access the ground floor and the backyard, as I told you, the ramps are already installed. Maybe it would do you some good to see and control what the craftsmen are doing? Huh?"

"I can't go there with the power chair, that thing is too bulky to put it in any of our cars and I can't operate the manual wheelchair yet again with that shoulder." Steve sounded as if he was searching for an excuse to make the visit impossible.

"Buddy, are you trying to find a way not to go there? Then just say it. It's your decision, not mine. But don't take the wheelchair as an excuse. They are going to take off that sling within the next days, then you'll feel much better even if the joint is still weak and you shouldn't use the arm to propulse the wheelchair by yourself. If you really want to go there, we will make it possible. We will assist you with the transfer in and out the car and I will personally push your chair. You know, I like to drive from time to time. So, be honest, are you afraid of going to your house?"

Steve hesitated a moment before he answered. "No, I'm not afraid, at least not of going to see what you did to my house. Afraid of the future? Yes. But you are right, maybe it's time to start looking a little farer than only into the next week. And I really should do that "supervision of the construction work" before they do anything I don't like. When did you say they'll start with the kitchen? Next week? Then we should be there to see if there is maybe one little longboard left for me to drink while looking at the ocean. I could practice how to open my fridge." Steve grinned at Danny.

"A longboard? Are you even allowed to drink in your condition? I mean, you are taking lots of meds, don't you?" Danny was happy to see Steve making plans but was concerned for his friend's health at the same time.

"Moderate drinking is allowed, the meds I take are largely compatible with alcohol and we're talking about one longboard. And since you said you would be my driver, I don't even have to worry about tail wagging my wheelchair. Maybe we should invite the team and make a little barbeque, I am longing for a good steak or a burger. We should do that in exactly ten days, on that day it will be twelve months on the day that I got injured and I don't want to spend that day in here, I want to be at home, even if it's just for a few hours." Steve sounded so happy, Danny was overwhelmed. The man that had sounded so devastated and hopeless half an hour ago was making plans for a cookout at his house. Those were amazing prospects, now only Steve's shoulder had to improve enough within the next week to finally have the first team gathering with Steve at his own house for more than one year.