Disclaimer: Hawaii Five-0 and its characters do not belong to me.
…
The darkness that had provided him with merciful, if transient, refuge slowly began to disappear, forcefully thrusting him into consciousness without his own volition. The throbbing in his head was first to welcome him, closely followed by the scent of antiseptic mixed with the dizzying fragrance of white lilies that were solemnly sitting in one corner of the room (yes, Sang Min had sent flowers typically meant for funerals along with his ill-composed card to Steve, how thoughtful). He heaved unsteadily as an icy shiver slithered through his frame, eliciting a soft trickle of phlegmy cough while at it. He squeezed his eyes shut, his body twisted awkwardly into his torso in an attempt to alleviate the pain flowing through his veins. The pain that had plagued him even in his light sleep, but was somewhat a little more bearable than it was now when he was fully conscious.
"Danny? You awake?" Steve's voice seemed too far away. Too far for his own liking. He opened his eyes if only to be sure that he was still in the same room as his partner. He was.
He swallowed the revolting bile in his throat courtesy of the light assaulting his senses, his chest clenching as he suppressed a groan. Except, all that did was send an even more intense stab through his chest which penetrated all the way into his spine. What in the world was going on?
"You still mad at me?" He heard his partner exhale. He tried doing the same but his breath caught in his chest. "Look, I.."
"St..eve." Why was it so hard to breathe? He brought a hand up to his broken ribs, where the soreness still resided.
"Buddy.. You alright?"
He hummed unintelligibly. Honestly, he wasn't too sure. Was he alright? By all accounts, he should be. He should be fine. This wasn't about him. He hadn't been shot up. He hadn't almost died. He was fine. But even if he wanted to, he couldn't lie. He didn't feel anywhere near okay. He was so exhausted, like he had just run a full marathon (not that he would know what that actually felt like because he had never and would never do such a silly thing). His whole body hurt like.. like he'd been through a plane crash. Sure, that had happened but he should be fine by now. Steve had been through the same crash on top of getting shot. So he really didn't have much reason to feel this miserable. But he did. Why he felt worse now than he did a few days ago was really anyone's guess.
"Danny?" Was that worry in his partner's voice?
Ugh. He couldn't hide the pained sob that involuntarily came out of his mouth as his insides twisted mercilessly. Was he imagining the pain ripping through him? Because he really should be fine. Maybe he had slept the wrong way, that must be it. Or maybe all he needed was some more of those pain meds the nurse had given him which worked well for all of 2 seconds.
"Danny, what's wrong? Look at me." Steve's voice broke through the haze of confusion that was beginning to engulf him.
"M'fine." His laughable attempt at convincing himself and his friend that he was okay was just that. Laughable.
With excruciating effort, he rolled over onto his back. Something he immediately regretted doing because it felt like a dozen knives had simultaneously embedded themselves into his lungs. Pure white nothingness blinded his vision as he gasped for the abundant oxygen in the room that felt strangely scarce to him.
"Danny, hey, easy, easy. Come on, let me see your eyes."
He must have (thankfully) passed out for a moment because Steve was now suddenly next to him, standing over his bed when he obviously shouldn't be. Either that, or he was imagining it. Which he thought was more likely as his eyes landed on the concern creasing his partner's soft features.
"Don't give..aneu..sym..face.. Sho..dn.. be.. ou..t.. f.. bed." With each word he wheezed out, his voice got softer even if he was putting more effort into them.
"Where does it hurt?" Steve's voice for once wasn't laced with exasperation towards him. Instead, what was that hanging off the edge of Steve's words? He could be wrong but it seemed like fear.
If he had any doubts before that he was hallucinating, they were all dispelled in the next instant. He was 100% out of it. Because there was no way Steve's fingers were cautiously gliding across his forehead, combing the errant strands of hair away from his face with a gentleness he would never associate with the SEAL. There was no way Steve was looking at him with wide (even slightly watery) eyes, searching his face for the answer to his question. There was no way Steve was desperately holding on to his arm the way he had held on to Steve's several days back. He swallowed, unable to stop the cascading turmoil that hit him as he realised this would never be real. There was no way.. Steve hated him, remember? There was absolutely no way that resolute grip on his arm and the gentle touch on his face were real. He ached for them to be real, for his partner to still care even a little about him but he didn't dare hope it was.
"You're gonna be okay, hmm? Gonna be okay."
"Umm.." He wheezed, his back arching ever so imperceptibly.
"Why did you do it? You shouldn't have, Danny."
Couldn't have just watched you die, Steve. Talking was getting to be too tiring, and he thought imaginary Steve would be able to read his mind anyway.
"Thank you, buddy. That's what I've been trying to say. Thank you, Danno."
His lips tugged into a slight smile, he didn't think he needed to hear those words. He was convinced it didn't matter. But hearing them for once sent a flush of relief through his chest. Even if this was a dream, even if it wasn't real, he was okay with it. Because it meant that in some alternate universe, Steve wouldn't let his sacrifice be in vain, that he would at least try to keep himself alive. With that buoyant relief, his eyes slid shut at the same time he felt the grip on his arm pull away from him.
…
Only one thing had run through his mind when he had heard Dr Cornett's words as they stood in the middle of the ER.
I've got to save him. I have to.
"Let me just save everyone some time. Ste..Steve and I are the same blood type. So uhh.. so let's just use mine."
If one didn't know better, they'd probably think he was talking about his car or something like that, not a piece of his vital organ. But he was most definitely talking about his liver.
As he followed the Doctor in, not turning to look at his team, he felt a renewed sense of purpose in his life which was quite truthfully waning after he had ensured the scumbag who had shot Steve was in HPD custody and when he had gotten the call from the hospital. The call that had asked him to rush back as his partner's life was hanging on a thin thread. His purpose in life would have been trampled upon if the doctor had said there was nothing else they could do for Steve. But he hadn't said that. If anything he had said the opposite of that. That there was something he could for his friend.
There was something he could do this time. There was nothing he could have done, or for that matter, do now to change what happened to Grace or Meka or his brother. He couldn't save them. But today. There was something he could do. He could keep his partner alive. He could save Steve and he would not consider any other alternatives. He had to get into the OT. He had to be the one to give Steve his liver. Even if anyone else could have given Steve their liver, he wouldn't allow it, it had to be him. But he knew for a fact that none of the rest of them would have been able to donate their livers anyway. He knew because he had had everyone's blood type engraved somewhere in his overcrowded, messed up head (just in case that information was needed in an emergency). And even if he wasn't a genius, years of biology lessons in school hadn't gone completely to waste, he knew at the very least the blood types had to match.
Steve was an O negative, which meant he was a universal donor but he could only receive blood or organ for that matter from another O negative. Call it an ironic twist of fate or a lucky coincidence, he (who had just about nothing else in common with his partner) was the only one on the team who had the same blood type as Steve. That didn't mean he was immediately an eligible donor but there at least was a chance that he could be. And if it meant he had to sit through what felt like hours of testing, being poked and prodded, blood drawn from his arm, put through X-rays and CT scans, everything which he hated in his life, so be it. If it meant Steve had a fighting chance, he would do anything required of him.
Honestly, he couldn't remember much of what happened in those hectic minutes leading up to the surgery. Everything had gone by in a blur of well-restrained tears waiting to be unleashed and unbridled prayers hastily being recited while he begged for the staff to hurry it up. His partner was dying. His partner needed his liver. There was no time to waste. Why were they taking so much time?
At some point, Lou had sat next to him. He had realised only when the bed dipped ever so jarringly, jolting him out of his spiraling negativity. Lou's large, warm hand wrapped across his quivering shoulders, squeezing it lightly. Lou had asked if he was cold because he was damn near convulsing on the edge of that not so pristine bed. He wasn't but damn, he couldn't stop shivering for some reason.
"You did good, Danny. I'm not sure I could have done what you did." If Lou was referring to landing the plane on the beach, hell, he wasn't sure he could have done it either. Did Lou not hear him stutter while talking to the ATC? "And now..what you're about to do, it's.."
He hadn't allowed Lou to finish the thought. He didn't want to hear it, not now. Anxiety had its unyielding grip around his neck, choking the life out of him. He didn't want to hear what Lou was about to say, for fear that Lou would jinx it. Fear that he wouldn't get a chance to save his friend. Fear that while waiting for the results of the liver match testing, his friend would be lost to him forever. Fear that after all the testing, he wouldn't be a good match for Steve after all. Fear that he would, again, have to watch another of his partner die, unable to do a single damn thing.
He couldn't stop the intense trembling nor the haze that clouded his vision while those thoughts crippled him. His fists clenched underneath the blanket that Lou had thrown over his lap anyway despite his insistence that he wasn't cold. The flash of white coats rushing in front of him was beginning to dizzy him. Why were they taking so long? He needed answers. His patience was running thin. He stopped the spade of prayers leaving his heart. He was done waiting for answers. With determination, he waged war with God, putting out a challenge to him. All he needed was for his friend to come back. He wouldn't ask for anything else. Just this.
"He's going to be okay, you know." Lou said.
No, he did not know that. Not yet. And as he watched Dr Cornett's stiff posture and grim face approaching him, he was even less sure. The incessant pounding in his chest hitched as the doctor stood in front of him, exhaling a soft defeated sigh. All other sound seized to exist as his world moved in slow motion, leaving a despicable ringing in his ears. Not a word had been uttered but he was a Detective after all. He could tell that whatever news Dr Cornett brought with him wasn't good. Something was wrong. His body clamped up with fear and his chest tightened as he awaited the words he didn't want to hear. Words that would probably send his whole world crumbling.
Lou must have sensed it too because he felt another squeeze on his shoulder. Hardly comforting, but it was all that was keeping him sane at the moment.
"I'm sorry, Detective." The words were spoken. Three words that managed to shatter his reality into a million pieces as his world now spun a little too quickly. Why was there no in between?
"Is Steve.." He choked out, eyes red as he suppressed the tears. While he was waiting out here for some stupid test results, had his friend completely given up? Had he lost Steve? "Is he.." Dead. He couldn't say the word. No! Steve couldn't be dead!
"Detective, the Commander is still critical."
"He's alive." He let out a shuddering breath, a tear escaping his closed lids. Steve was still alive. Critical or not, that was enough for him at the moment. But the expression on Cornett's face was anything but reassuring. "What's wrong?" Danny asked. If Steve was still alive, the apology could only mean one other thing? "My liver?"
The doctor nodded.
He winced, his heart physically hurting at the prospect of having to watch Steve die because he wasn't enough for his partner.
"No." He refused to believe that he wasn't a match for Steve. He had to be a match. He just had to be. He had to save his friend. Steve was still fighting, he couldn't be the reason his friend died.
"No. There must be a mistake, you need to run those tests again." Danny said, in his head he was screaming but what came out was a mere whimper. "I.. I have to be a match.. Steve needs me." Those last words weren't supposed to be said out loud, they were meant only for himself.
"Detective, the tests.. they showed that you're indeed a match."
He let out a breath he wasn't aware had been trapped in his chest. Did he hear wrong? The doctor just said he was a match. Steve was going to be okay. Danny released his unconscious grip on the doctor's arms, running his shaky fingers over his dishevelled head of blonde.
"Okay.. okay good. Then let's get on with it." He swallowed the bile working up his throat, gaining previously non-existent confidence. There was no time to waste. Yes, he was afraid. But his partner was in the next room, waiting. He had to get in there.
"Detective, you are a match but.."
"But? But what?" Danny interrupted, not willing to hear whatever excuse the doctor had for stalling the surgery. "We shouldn't be wasting anymore time!"
"We can't put you in surgery." The doctor said.
"What? Why?"
"Detective, in your current condition. You are not fit for the transplant surgery."
"What are you talking about?!" He was most definitely screaming now.
"Danny.." Lou's strong hold on his shoulder now shifted to his back.
"The chest X-ray I ordered showed that you have two broken ribs on your left side and one fractured on your right. The br.."
"Look, I'm fine. The ribs will heal. But Steve. Right now he needs a liver. And that can't wait. We need to get in there and do this now." Danny reasoned as though he was the one who had spent half his life studying the human body and obtaining a medical degree.
"Detective, the broken rib on your left side has caused a tear in your spleen, causing a slow bleed. It's not life threatening at the moment but we need to repair it immediately before it worsens and your spleen ruptures. It's too much of a risk to put you through the transplant surgery on top of this. We will have to find another donor for Commander McGarrett."
He was fine. What was the doctor even on about? Yeah, he most definitely was a little roughed up, a little sore. But he was alright. Steve wasn't.
"No.. NO!" Danny raised his voice. Taking a slow breath, he tried to compose himself. "Look, you said it yourself. He doesn't have much time. There's no way we can get another liver in time."
"Lieutenant Chin Ho Kelly and Captain Grover are both willing to donate part of their livers. We'll get them tested and see who is the better match. For you, the priority is to get the tear repaired. We'll have you prepped for surgery."
"You don't understand." Danny said. "They won't be a match. Their blood types are different."
"Does he have family? The chances of a match within family members would be higher."
He was Steve's family. Why didn't the doctor get that?
"He has a sister.." Lou finally got his lips to move.
"Who is in LA right now. She's taking the earliest flight out which is in a couple hours. If you tell me with 100% certainty that he can survive that long for her to arrive and get herself tested and prepped for surgery, then I'll stand down. We'll wait for her." Danny said. A rouge tear made its descent down his left cheek as the expression on Dr Cornett's face told him what he feared. Steve could barely survive the next hour. "But if you can't, I'm going in and we're doing the surgery."
"Detective. I don't think you understand the risk you are putting yourself through." Dr Cornett started. "You were in a plane crash and experienced considerable trauma to your internal organs. Going through a liver transplant surgery on top of your existing condition could cause complications both during and after the surgery."
"I do, okay? I do. I understand the risks very well." Danny insisted. "But without another liver, Steve's de.. he's not gonna.." He breathed, no he wouldn't say it lest it came true. "Just tell me, doc, is there a chance we're both going to be okay?"
"Danny, you don't have to do this." He didn't know what Lou was talking about because if he didn't do this, then what? Were they supposed to spend the next hour saying goodbye to Steve on his deathbed? That was not going to happen if he could do anything about it.
"Doc?" The desperation in his voice was evident.
Doctor Cornett paused, his eyes shifting from one man to the other. "There is. But in my professio.."
"That's good enough for me." Danny said. "I trust you, you've saved my life once after all.. Look, I..I'll sign any papers that you need me to.. in case anything does go wrong. But I'm not planning on it to happen, alright? So Doc, please. Please go get prepped."
"Are you sure about this? You need time to think through your decision?" Lou asked once they were left alone. "No one is going to blame you if you don't do it, Danny."
That wasn't true. He would blame himself. He wouldn't be able to live with the knowledge that this time, he could have saved his partner but chose not to. He turned to face the big guy. "I've got to save him."
"Nothing I say is gonna change your mind." Lou stated rather than asked.
Lou shook his head as Danny remained stubbornly quiet. "McGarrett's one lucky man to have you around. I mean it. You better be okay, too, you understand, Danny? I'm not doing no explaining to McGarrett or your kids."
He nodded. "Just do me a favour, please. Can you get Kono to pick Grace up from school? I'd like to see her before.. before the surgery."
Lou nodded, putting his hands on his knees as he rose to his feet.
"And Lou?" He hesitated. "What the doc said, no one else needs to know, okay?"
…
Whoever it was that had said that hindsight was 20/20 had to be a genius, Steve thought. Either that, or that person was a complete numbskull like him. Because it was now that as he stood over his best friend whose face was paler than he'd ever seen, whose lips were tinged to a slight blue, whose eyes were compressed into tight slits, did he feel like the biggest fool on earth. Everything came back to him at once. The regret and the guilt that were brought about words he had said which he should never have and those words he should have said but never did.
He had no idea what was going on with his partner except that he was not okay. His eyes swerved to the door, wondering why the nurse was taking so long. She should be here to make Danny okay.
"Danny, hey, easy, easy. Come on, let me see your eyes." He was practically begging. He needed to see his partner's eyes. And what relief it brought him when his partner's eyes fluttered open and looked right at him, even if it was riddled with pain.
"Don't give..aneu..sym..face.. Sho..dn.. be.. ou..t.. f.. bed."
"Where does it hurt?" He had to know. He hoped it wasn't the liver. He hoped it was nothing internal, he hoped maybe Danny had just pulled his stitches. But deep down, he knew that his hopes were futile. He gently ran his fingers over Danny's forehead, pretending it wasn't more than slightly warm. Maybe if he didn't acknowledge it, his partner would be fine.
"You're gonna be okay, hmm? Gonna be okay." He was trying to tell himself more than his partner.
"Umm.." His partner wheezed and he didn't miss the way Danny's back arched slightly.
He gripped Danny's hand, hoping he could take away some of that pain. The pain he had caused. Because if it wasn't for him, Danny wouldn't even be here.
"Why did you do it? You shouldn't have, Danny."
"Where were you gonna get one, Steve? The supermarket?"
He held on tighter to his partner's arms as his partner's nonchalant words played in his head. He heard the door open behind him, finally. His eyes not leaving his partner as the nurse approaching called out to him, he swallowed thickly. Maybe he was afraid he wouldn't get a chance to say it at any other time so he leaned closer to his partner. "Thank you, buddy. That's what I've been trying to say. Thank you, Danno."
He felt a gentle hand on his back and arm, his hand reluctantly pulled away from his partner's arm just as Danny's eyes slid shut. If he had a choice, he would fight whoever it was that was taking him away from his partner but his brain worked well enough to know that Danny needed all the attention right now. So he didn't resist as he was guided back to his own bed. He didn't make a fuss as the nurse ignored his question and went over to his partner. He didn't ask anymore questions as more medical personnel filed into the room, crowding his partner's bed and obscuring his view of Danny. He didn't do any of those things. He just sat on the edge of his own bed, wondering how the hell they got to this point.
…
A/N: Hey everyone! Once again, thank you for all your kind words on the last chapter. Really appreciate them. This chapter was a struggle to write because for the longest time, I just couldn't get their voices down (writer's block, I guess). I hope the end result wasn't too bad, I really tried. Also please don't come at me for the medical bits (I am no medical doctor so I used a little bit of creative licence and a whole lot of google). Hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter and I will see you in the next one? Thanks for reading and take care!:)