Chapter 17

Steve's blood pressure was a little high, he had a slight fever of 101 °F /38,5 °C, but his pulse was steady and regular. If it hadn't been for Danny, Steve would have stayed in bed, but his friend insisted on eating dinner and he was backed by the staff – of course.
He managed a few bites, but it was far away from the amount he actually needed. Of course, Danny noticed and Steve interpreted his friend's look correctly.

"I can't eat more. Okay!" The agitation gained the upper hand once more. "If I eat more, I am going to vomit. I already am nauseous again."
"You took your "anti-medication"?"
"Yes Danny! Maybe you've noticed the cocktail I took before dinner! Those pills weren't candy you know?!"
"Maybe we should talk to the doc then. See if you can get something else. No need to take them when they don't work."
"Maybe they work. They just need time."
"No. Anti-nausea work almost immediately. And you should know that after all those concussions you've had."
"And you should know that I am different than other people when it comes to medication. Maybe this one needs time!"
Danny had a snarky remark on his lips, but he had sensed Steve's argumentative mood and didn't want to fight in a room full of people, so he just nodded and continued to eat – because despite everything he was hungry.

After their return to Steve's room both men went to bed.
Steve was still feeling groggy and the pill helped him to fall asleep almost immediately and to sleep peacefully throughout the night.
Danny had waited until his friend was in a deep sleep until he allowed himself to fall asleep as well.
The bed was quite comfortable and he was out pretty fast too.
He woke at his usual time early morning. Steve was still asleep though. Danny walked over to his friend's bed, watching him for a few minutes.
It was a good night's sleep for sure. Steve was breathing deeply and evenly his features were relaxed. Yet Danny could see how much energy and strength all of this had already cost his friend.
Both men knew each other for almost eleven years now and it is just natural that your appearance changes in that amount of time. Danny was sure he looked older too now, but Steve had aged significantly in the last two years. He looked haggard and pale - like he was recovering from a long and serious disease. He was far away from the look of the trained SEAL he had been when they had met.

'I just hope the meds are going to help soon. Not sure he will make it much longer without them.'

Before both men went to breakfast together, Steve got checked over: He had to bring a urine sample, the staff drew blood and took his pulse, blood pressure and temperature.
Thankfully, the fever was gone and the rest of the tests were good too – blood and urine results still pending of course.

"Hey, you good?" Danny asked when he noticed Steve was lost in thoughts instead of eating.
"Yeah…I guess. Thanks for staying here tonight. Felt good…and thanks for coming for me yesterday too. You saved my life…lit…literally.
I think I had some kind of panic attack. I am sorry. But I didn't know what else to do."
"I thought we've been over this. You did exactly the right thing and what I wanted you to do. And I want you to do it again. Okay?"
"I know. But…I don't want you to worry about me during work. You can't concentrate if you think the next call is going to come any minute. I can't risk getting you hurt again."

Danny went to work after breakfast and although he had told his friend that he wasn't worrying about him while at work, he still did. He knew Steve was safe where he was, but that didn't mean that all his problems were gone. Danny had been full of guilt a few times too and he knew how hard it had been to get rid of it. He also knew that it is possible, but at the moment he wondered to which level – if Steve still had a chance to get out of it or if it was just a waste of effort, because he was too deep into it.
He needed to talk to the doctor.
'Maybe I can do more. There has to be a way. Steve deserves better than to live like that for the rest of his life.'

Steve's hands had healed enough to participate in some of the courses.
Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed to use the pool yet. He needed to wait a few more days until the wounds were out of danger of opening again because of the water. He tried to concentrate on his work, but his thoughts were with Danny. His friend had assured him that he was focused on the job, but Steve knew Danny wouldn't be able to tune the thoughts out entirely. He wished Danny could, but he knew better.

All the thinking brought back his own worries and the what ifs – 'what if Danny is thinking of me instead of the job, what if he isn't focused on a possible thread, what if I call him when his attention is needed elsewhere, what if he gets hurt again because of that?'
He felt his pulse quicken, the grip on the file he held while working on a piece of wood tightened and the hand started to shake.
He had no idea how long he had stood like this when he heard someone calling his name. And the way the words were spoken sounded like he hadn't been addressed for the first time. He opened his eyes after he had realized he had them closed and looked up. All he could see was Danny's bloody face.
"No!" escaped his lips.
He heard his name being called again.
He blinked a few times and the course instructor's face – Mrs. Keahi – came in focus.
"Commander McGarrett? Are you with us again? Would you mind putting the file down?"
Steve heard the words, but didn't know what they meant at first. Then the worried looks of the other course participants came into view. He blinked again and finally noticing where he was, he put the file onto the table, almost letting it drop to the floor, because his hands were still shaking.
"I am sorry," he said embarrassed.
"It's fine. Just sit down for a moment. I'll bring you a glass of water."
Steve emptied it and apologized again.
"It's okay. Just take a few minutes. Then you can continue."
"I don't want to." He stood up and stammered "I…I need to b…be outside." He opened the door and left the room hurriedly.
Mrs. Keahi called after him, but Steve didn't stop. He was cleaving – not looking left or right – kind of like a tunnel vision untie he had reached the nearest exit. He pushed the door open with way too much force, but thankfully, nobody was near the doors. A few feet away from the exit, he stopped his run and took a few deep breaths before sitting down on a bench, lowering his head and putting it between his hands.

"Commander McGarrett. Can I help you?" a soft voice asked, but although the words were spoken in a low voice it startled him nonetheless.
He hadn't heard someone approaching him and he jerked briefly and barely noticeable, but it gave his heart rate another push in the already wrong direction.
"Commander McGarrett?" the voice asked again.
"I am fine," Steve answered, still not looking up.
"You don't look fine and from what I had heard from Mrs. Keahi you definitely aren't fine and I'd like to check you over. Is that okay for you?"
"No! I want to be alone. I am good."
It sounded like a lie even to his own ears, Probably, because it was, but he didn't want to get "checked over". He didn't want anyone to look at him or to touch him. He didn't want anyone near him.
"Commander…"
"I said No! Just go!" He was agitated and looked up. The care worker who had taken his blood in the morning was standing in front of him with a concerned but still gently look on her face.
"I can't do that. Just let me have a quick look at your vital signs, then we can see about what's coming next."
"No! I don't want that. Just…just leave me alone!"
"Do you want to talk to Dr. Andrews?" She tried a different approach.
"No. I-I just want to have some peace and quiet. Please." The words were spoken pleadingly and his look said the same.
"Okay. I'll sit on the bench over there." She pointed to one about three yards away. "I will just sit there – enjoying the sun. Just ignore me and stay as long as you want. I won't bother you. Just remember I'll be here if you need anything." When she had finished, she turned, went to said bench and sat down as well.
Steve hadn't expected that reaction, but he was thankful for it. He really didn't want to get touched or talked to. But if he was honest, he didn't want "peace and quiet" either. It just made him think again. And he didn't want to think. He wanted the thoughts to stop. He wanted the voices to be quiet. Quiet – there it was again. He didn't want "quiet". Actually, he didn't know what he wanted. No, that wasn't exactly right. He knew he wanted all this to be over. He wanted the control over his emotions back, over his body and mind. He wanted his life back.