Danny Gets Shot

They'd received a tip-off that a passport counterfeit ring was operating out of the back of a beauty salon. A beauty salon fronting a ring of counterfeiters? How dangerous could they be?

Steve had been up front chatting pleasantly with the red-haired receptionist, and seizing things up. Danny was supposed to be out back scoping the alley and neighboring business - just getting the lay of the land. They had nothing to move on at that point; it was just intelligence gathering. But Danny had wandered around to the back of the salon and slipped in through the delivery door, apparently deciding all on his own to take a look around.

And whatever he'd spotted had encouraged him to poke around a little more in the stockroom - which is where two juvenile members of a local gang had found him. The first clue Steve had was the sound of shots coming from a back room in the salon. Two shots - and neither of them the familiar and distinct bang of Danny's weapon - and he'd known. Known instantly that Danny had been shot.

He'd mown through the screaming, hysterical woman, racing for the stockroom, and finding it - for one bewildered moment- empty. Then Steve's gaze moved past the wall of boxes and metal shelving units and he'd spotted Danny slumped on his side, blood spilling out of his chest, pooling on the cement floor. Danny's face had been bone white with shock, his eyes huge and black and stunned. Steve had knelt down beside him, kneeling in the puddle of Danny's blood, and for one instant of sheer blind terror, he couldn't think beyond the fact that Danny was dying. That any one of those shuddering, faint breaths might be his last.

It had never crossed Steve's mind to go after the shooters. Not until later. "Hang on, Danny," he said, and he'd yelled at the terrified faces grouped in the doorway of the stockroom to call 911. Steve's voice shook when he said, "Stay with me, Danny. Stay." The words had seemed laden, charged with fears and feelings he's never considered - never allowed himself to consider.

And he shouted at the woman to bring him towels, clean towels to try to stanch the bleeding. And the frightened woman had scattered, a couple of them returning with freshly laundered towels that Steve jammed up against the bullet wound in Danny's chest.

Danny's lashes had flickered. His colorless lips parted but no words came out, and Steve didn't know if Danny could hear him or not. Danny's eyes were open, pupils huge and black, but there was no other sign of consciousness in his chalky face, no response to Steve. He had taken Danny's icy hand in his and chafed it, feeling the long, lax fingers twitch feebly; maybe it was a response, maybe it was just… a dying nervous system shutting down for good.

And it was the worst day, the worst hour, the worst moments of Steve's life waiting for the paramedics - waiting for Danny to stop breathing, for his eyes to fix and glaze before help could reach them.

ooOooOoo

The bullet had torn through skin, muscles, and a couple of ribs. Following the shock of impact - like a landmine going off inside his chest - the pain had been unbelievable. Unimaginable.

The miracle had been that no major blood vessels had been hit while the bullet ricocheted around his chest cavity. But it hadn't felt like a miracle at the time. His right lung had begun to squeeze, he'd had to struggle for each short breath, and it had been agony - like getting stabbed over and over.

Danny's vision had grayed out, he hadn't been able to call out or move, feeling the warm spill of his own blood on his chilled skin - and the blood had felt good, that's how cold he'd been. Cold to the core.

And then Steve had been there. And he'd been glad. Glad for the chance to see him one last time, to say good-bye, even if it was just inside his own head because he sure wasn't capable of speech. And the presence of Steve had been comforting.

Danny thought of waking up in the hospital with Steve sitting right there. "Welcome back," he'd said in a gentle voice. And Danny had managed a smile because it was Steve - despite the fact he'd never been in so much pain in his entire life.

"What do you need?" Steve asked. "Some water or…?" His fingers brushed Danny's cheek.

"I need you," Danny whispered. He looked tired and vulnerable. "As my friend, my lover, my partner. All of it."

And the following gentle kiss from Steve was a promise.