Chapter 7

"I know you are commander McGarrett's next of kin, but sometimes that "just" means people trust those people with important decisions.

How well do you know the commander and are you close enough to be able to answer some personal questions?"

"I will be able for sure. I…I just don't know if I want to…if I am comfortable with it. We are talking about his life and privacy."

"Exactly. And I want to help him to get it together again. I understand your reluctance though. How about we get started and if there is a question you don't want to answer, you just say so."

Danny nodded "Sounds good."

"How long do you know commander McGarrett and how much contact do you still have?"

"Just a bit over ten years. We are work partners since then and roommates for about seven months."

"I know you see a lot in law enforcement, but do you know if there had been any traumatic events the commander might have experienced?"

"His life," the words slipped out of Danny's mouth before he was even aware of it. "Sorry, that…"

"No, I'd like to hear that," the doctor interrupted Danny's explanation.

"His mom got killed in a car crash when he was a teenager. His father sent him to military school. He had a friend while he was in SEAL training. That friend wanted out, but Steve convinced him to stay. He personally recruited him for a mission later on. Freddie died on that mission, saving Steve's life. Years later Steve found his remains only to learn that his legs and arms had been smashed and his eyes cut out. Steve took out a terrorist. His brother wanted revenge and killed Steve's father. He heard the shot that killed him over the phone. He learned that his mother had only faked her death, she was still alive. She said she had done it to protect the family, but she didn't stop lying to him. He got tortured – twice – by a man who was after some information about someone – I can't tell you more about that. He got tortured and almost beheaded by the Taliban after trying to save some kids from becoming child soldiers. The love of his life stayed in Afghanistan to help those kids. After she had come back, he had wanted to propose to her, but she left again. She had lied about the where and for whom to him. He lost his aunt to cancer while she visited. He found her in her bed. He got shot multiple times during a flight. One of the bullets had destroyed his liver – he needed a transplant. His mentor and surrogate father got shot to save Steve's life. He bled out in Steve's arms. His mother was in some kind of trouble. He tried to help her, but she got stabbed and died in front of his eyes. That increased his sleeping problems. He wanted a "time out", wanted to clear his head and find peace. But his mother had left something for him that someone else wanted. To get that I got kidnapped, beaten and shot. Steve found me, brought me to a hospital, but blamed himself for what happened. And that is only what comes to my mind. If I would really think about it, I will find more. And I don't even know about his SEAL time." The words just came out of Danny's mouth, there was not even one pause in it.

"Wow, I hadn't expected that, but it explains a lot. Did any of this happened recently – say the last year, maybe two?"

"Joe – that was his mentor, his mom and me."

"Did he seek psychological help?"

"No."

"Did he talk to someone else about it – maybe to you?"

"Not really. We had a short talk right after his mom's death and I tried to get something out of him later, offered my help. He said he appreciated it, but declined."

"Did you ask him, because you know it is important to talk to someone after something like this or have you noticed something unusual about him?"

"Both."

"What exactly?"

"I've noticed that he isn't sleeping very well. I could hear him at night, pacing in his room."

"That's why you approached him?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He just admitted to sleeping disorders, but he didn't say exactly why – only that "he had a lot on his mind"."

"What about the job? Did he act differently too?"

"Yes. He withdrew himself – somehow – when…when it came to social stuff and he was more careful when it came to fights…when it was clear that we couldn't avoid a gunfight. He was always the one going alone if we weren't enough people to make teams of two, made sure everyone else had someone by their side. These last few weeks he needed to reassure himself again and again if we were okay and even when everything had gone well, he seemed on edge until he knew for sure everybody came out without a scratch."

"Before or after you got hurt?"

"Before. He hadn't been to work since he had found me…Not that he wasn't able, but he spent a lot of time at the hospital with me and the first week at home. He had planned to leave after that to take care of himself, but had a change of mind."

"Do you know the reason?"

"I think…can't say for sure though. I think he wanted to take care of me, still feeling guilty."

"Thank you for all the information, detective. It had helped a lot. Unfortunately, it had indeed confirmed my earlier suspicion. The commander is most likely suffering from a combination of burnout, stress, anxiety and depression. Those issues are linked to each other. Which of it is the greatest issue needs to be affirmed by a psychologist. But with the symptoms that are already evident, I can tell you that he needs to get help asap."

"Stress for sure. I agree with anxiety. Burnout? Yes, possible. Maybe that is why he had wanted to leave. And if you had said PTSD, I would have agreed with that too. But depression? No."

"I am pretty sure. Everything points in this direction. All the things that you've just told me – sleeping disorders, not talking about his problems, refusing help, withdrawing from friends…and I can add increased blood pressure, increased cholesterol, dehydration and the severe migraine he just came in with to that. And that hadn't shown up in his anamnesis ever before. We did a complete blood count and his results are far from good. He has problems of some kind in almost every category. And that just doesn't happen overnight. I think he hasn't eaten properly in months. When the pain had lessened, he was able to answer a few questions and that more or less completed the picture: lack of energy, exhaustion, fatigue, muscle and bone pain, headaches. But as I said, these diseases are related."

Danny let everything sink in, then he said in a low voice, almost like he was talking to himself "I didn't notice. He…he is just too good."

"What do you mean by that?"

"He's been taught his whole life not to show feelings, emotions, "weakness". He had learned how to put a mask on, to show people only what he wants them to see and he brought it to perfection.
When he had said he wanted to take his break later, I had asked him to do it for the right reasons. He said that they were the right reason. I guess we have different opinions about that.
He took good care of me. He made breakfast and dinner and everything seemed normal. I didn't notice he didn't eat right…I know he skipped dinner one time when I had to work late. Looks like he did that more than once…I should have known."

"Don't blame yourself. You were hurt, then you were at work again. And I know how difficult it is to see through those masks."

"But I knew he didn't sleep well, knew the nightmares were still coming. I had wanted to try to talk to him this weekend. Now it is too late."

"It's not exactly too late, but we need to start the treatment today."

"What's the plan?"

"First thing we have to do is to convince him to get admitted. We have to coddle him up to improve his general condition. He can't afford getting any worse. His immune system is already compromised. Any more damage can be extremely dangerous."

"It won't be easy, but I'll try and help you with that. But I have to talk to him alone."

When Danny entered the examination room Steve was still in, his friend was asleep.

"We sedated him, but he should be awake soon. Might take a while longer than usual, because of the exhaustion, but I'd say no longer than an hour anymore."

"I understood you've given him something for the pain, not that you have sedated him."

"We did both. When we had the pain under control, he answered a few questions, but he was still a little groggy. About half an hour later, he seemed to feel better, wanted out of here and go home. When I've told him that that wasn't possible yet, because we needed to do some more tests, he got agitated. He worked himself up and his heart rate reached a dangerous level. We tried to calm him, but it didn't work. I hope he will be better when he is seeing your face."

"Don't bet on that. I was the one who brought him here."

"Don't think he is going to remember that. His pain level had been very high."

While Danny was waiting for Steve to wake up, he took a good look at him. He was still a little pale, but it looked like he was resting comfortably. The bags hanging on a pole and containing the essential medication were almost empty. But what really shocked Danny was how skinny Steve had become.

'Why didn't I notice that? I am sorry, Steve.'

"Why didn't you say anything? I've offered my help. You know I am always there for you - the team is too. You don't have to deal with stuff alone anymore. Why don't you learn that?" Danny said to his still sleeping friend and squeezed Steve's hand.

Danny noticed Steve was about to wake up a few seconds before he actually did. His breathing became a little different, his fingers twitched and then he opened his eyes – slowly. He was a little disoriented, but focused on Danny as soon as the blonde spoke to him.

"Danny?" Steve asked a little confused.

"Yeah, it's me. How are you feeling?"

"What happened? Why am I in the hospital?"

"Do you remember the headache?"

"No."

"Okay…you had a real bad headache…a migraine to be exact…"

"I don't get migraines," Steve interrupted.

"According to the doctor it was one. Your scan was negative for everything else that could have been the reason for such a severe headache. You had vomited and you hadn't understood some of my questions. You agreed to the ambulance."

"I don't remember any of that."

"I can imagine that. You were pretty out of it."

"I am sorry, Danny. I didn't mean to scare you – again. Can we go home?"

"You don't have to be sorry for getting or being sick Steve. But you need to take more care of yourself to prevent this from happening. In particular that means eating and drinking properly."

Steve felt caught and looked down at his hands that were folded in his lap.

"I know you have a lot on your mind Steve," Danny continued "but I think I have to remind you that you are not alone. You have friends, people who care about you. You can talk to us - you can talk to me. We are here to help you. There is no shame in asking for it or just taking it when it is offered."

"I…I don't want to bother you."

"You are not bothering me, Steven. You are my BFF, remember? BFFs are not bothering each other. They help each other no matter what. And you need help."

"No. It will get better. I am just not hungry lately. And sometimes I am even nauseous. But it will get better. I…I…"

"No. It won't. Not like this. You need help, Steve. Now."

"Can…can we talk about that at home?" Steve asked almost pleadingly.

"No. You can't go home just yet."

"Why not?"

"Because you've played with your health and now it needs to be fixed."

"It is. I feel good. The headache is gone."

"It's not just the migraine, Steve," Danny emphasized the word on purpose. "You've lost a significant amount of weight. You…"

"I promise I'll eat. A big pizza. With you. At home."

"You have to stay here. They are not done yet. They…"

"No! I want to go home and you can't keep me from going!"

"You are right, I can't. But I promise you, you will be back by tomorrow or the day after at the latest."

"No, I won't. I am good." Steve sounded like a child who somehow knew it was wrong but didn't want to admit it – getting defiant. He pressed the call button.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked.

"I want the IV removed, so I can get dressed and go home. And I need to pee!"

"You are far away from getting discharged Steven. You…"

"I am not staying!"

The nurse entering the room asked "What is going on?"

"I want to go home and I need to p… the bathroom."

"I am going to disconnect the lines. Bags are empty anyway. Then I help you to get up in case you get dizzy or nauseous. And you are not on the discharge list today, but I will get Dr. Hanson."

"I don't care what he says. I am leaving AMA!"

"Steve," Danny started.

"And I don't care what you are saying either. You can go if you don't like it!"

Danny just stared at his friend. He knew Steve was just upset and didn't mean what he just said, but the words hurt deeply nonetheless. Before he could reply anything though, the nurse said "Okay, we are good to go. Sit up on the edge of the bed for a few seconds first. Then we'll go to the bathroom."

Steve was a little unsteady at first, but managed to reach the toilet without incident.
"When you are done call out or press the call button."

While Steve was tending to his business, the nurse smiled sympathetically at Danny and gathered the used bags.

Steve was on his way back to bed with the nurse by his side when Dr. Hanson entered.
"Commander McGarrett, it is nice to see you walking around. Looks like you feel better."

"See?" Steve said to Danny. "Yes, I do, thanks doc. Ready to go."

"I don't think so. You are not even close to going. You…" the doctor started.

"What is the matter with you all!? I said I am going home. And I will!" Steve yelled.

"I strongly advice against that," the doctor replied calmly.

"I…DON'T…CARE! You can't keep me here against my will!"

"No, I can't," the doctor admitted.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Steve asked annoyed.
The doctor knew he couldn't do anything. One look at Danny told him that the detective had already tried and failed, so he left the room followed by Danny and the nurse.
When Steve was alone, he got up, went to his clothes – briefs, shorts, T-Shirt – which were in a bag with his name on set on a table in the corner of the room and dressed himself. Then he went to the bathroom again to freshen up. Halfway back to the bed, he started to feel dizzy and nauseous. The world around him started to spin, then his knees buckled. He was able to prevent himself from hitting the floor face first, but his movements were uncoordinated and he caught the weight of his body with just his right arm, hurting the wrist in the process. The pain went through his whole arm and made him even more nauseous. He retched a few times, but nothing came out. The gagging brought back the headache, the headache worsened the dizziness and he passed out on the floor for the second time on the same day.