Danny does his best to swallow down the rising nausea as he comes to a jolting halt. His first instinct is to yell, let the bastard driving his hospital bed know that he should be gentler, but he finds he doesn't have the energy to do so. It's taking all he has left not to lose the contents of his stomach as it is, and if he opens his mouth, he's not sure he'll be able to keep it up (down). He feels exhausted, after rounds of x-rays, scans, and questions. Now, finally back in his little emergency room cubicle, he's hoping to be left alone while he waits for the results.
"Are you all right, Mr. Williams?" his nurse asks, shooting that hope down almost immediately after his return.
He swallows hard. He'd like nothing more than to say he's fine, but he knows it won't do him any good. And the more he cooperates, the quicker he can get out of this place and go home and... just not be here. Besides, at the rate things are going, he's going to lose his worsening battle with nausea, and then they'll know anyway.
"Sick," he manages to mumble, tight-lipped, just in case. He doesn't really want to think about why he's feeling so nauseous. It could be the pain making him feel nauseous. Or the not-so-pleasant ride down the hall. He might even have a concussion. Or he's just so sick at the thought of what happened that...
"Alright, I'll let the doc know, and we'll get you something to help with that."
She gives his arm a gentle squeeze that's meant to be comforting, but all it does is remind him of her, and it sends an aching pain through his chest that has absolutely nothing to do with his injuries.
He loses the battle then.
The nurse must have already been grabbing a sick bag for him just in case, because she manages to have it in front of him in time so he doesn't make a mess of the hospital gown they'd forced him into. Fire races through his abdomen and chest as the movement aggravates his bruised torso.
His vision whites out for a moment, and he's in a daze when the nurse pushes him to lean back against the bed. He's too weak to do anything other than go with it. Something is shoved into his hand, and he's aware enough to grasp it. He's sure it's a new sick bag, but he doesn't look, instead focusing on breathing in and out and not doing that again.
He's not sure when his nurse had left the room, but she's suddenly coming back in, letting him know she has more pain meds and an antiemetic. He really doesn't want to be all drugged up, but his little mishap has him hurting worse than before, and he's not keen on giving a repeat performance, so he doesn't object.
When the meds start to kick in and the pain dials back a notch, he doesn't really sleep, but he finds himself relaxing a bit. With his eyes closed, he manages not to flinch when the nurse starts to better clean up the minor cuts and scrapes on his face, arms, and hands that weren't deemed emergent earlier. He's grateful once she finishes and finally leaves him alone in the room.
He tenses when he hears footsteps again, wondering why they can't even give him a minute to himself. He feigns sleep, hoping they'll think he's resting comfortably and not disturb him. The footsteps stop when they reach the bed, but no sound comes next, no one fiddling with equipment or trying to wake him up. His curiosity finally gets the better of him, and he blinks up at the figure standing next to the bed.
Steve.
"Danny." Steve sounds wary, maybe a little relieved to see Danny in one piece, but clearly worried all the same.
He tries to give Steve a small smile, let him know that he's okay, but it comes across as a sad sort of grimace.
"Are you all right?"
No.
He can't find his voice, so he just gives a short nod instead.
"I'm sorry, Danny."
He swallows hard again, closing his eyes to fight off the tears. He hears Steve shuffling around, the scrape of a chair, and then a hand on his arm. He doesn't have the same reaction as before, thankfully. It's Steve, and he knows that, and his touch feels different.
They sit in silence for several minutes. Danny only opens his eyes when he's sure they won't spill over. Steve is sitting next to the bed watching him. The look in his eyes is nearly enough for Danny to crumble right then. He swallows thickly, not wanting to cave, not here, not right now.
"You feel sick?" Steve asks, eyeing the sick bag in Danny's hand and mistaking Danny's look for nausea. "Do you need me to get a nurse?"
He shakes his head.
"Okay."
They fall into silence again. Between the pain meds and exhaustion, Danny manages to doze a little. He wakes up to voices murmuring quietly at the foot of his bed. His doctor is back, talking to Steve. Danny shifts carefully, alerting them to his wakefulness.
The doctor clears him to go home. There's no broken bones, just bruised ribs, a sprained ankle, and too many scrapes, cuts and other bruises to count. The nurse comes in not long after the doctor leaves and removes his IV and other attachments. She exits the room, leaving Steve to help him get dressed.
Danny shifts slowly, swinging his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed. Steve produces a clean set of clothes from somewhere, and he's grateful he doesn't have to put his bloodied and dirty clothes back on. Danny admittedly feels like a child being dressed, as Steve pulls his boxers and pants part way up before encouraging him to stand. He's careful not to put too much weight on his ankle, leaning on Steve as together, they pull them up the rest of the way. He sits back down on the bed, wincing when he reaches back to untie the hospital gown. Steve interrupts his motions and unties the gown for him, tossing it aside.
"God, Danny," Steve gasps.
Danny looks down at his chest, too. Red and pink blotches are beginning to form across his chest and stomach, roughly in the shape of a seat belt, that are going to be turning a multitude of colors over the next several days.
Steve moves past his shock quickly and helps him into his shirt, then socks and shoes.
The ride home is quiet. Danny sits in the car while Steve stops at the pharmacy to get his prescription filled, before they head to Steve's house.
When they get in the house, Danny's greeted by a gentle hug from Tani. He's not expecting her to be there, and he fights hard not to burst into tears. He knows no one would care, maybe they even expect him to, but he doesn't want to break down right now. When they part, Steve ushers him to sit on the couch next to Eddie, who's laying on the middle cushion.
Eddie doesn't even wag his tail in greeting, just moves his head to rest on Danny's thigh. Danny automatically starts petting his head, and the action helps himself relax. Steve sits in front of him on the coffee table and reaches down to take off Danny's shoes. When the shoes are gone, Steve gets a pillow and sets it on the coffee table. Danny lets him lift his leg and gently put his sprained ankle on the pillow. Steve disappears into the kitchen briefly, returning with an ice pack and placing it on his ankle.
Tani heads out once Danny's situated, making them promise to call if they need anything, leaving the two of them alone with Eddie.
"What's wrong with him?" Danny asks quietly, finally finding his voice. Eddie seems worse than when he had left this morning and had hardly moved a muscle when they came in, so far from his usual greeting.
"PTS," Steve answers as he sits again on the coffee table, this time in front of Eddie. He reaches to stroke Eddie's side, while Danny continues scratching his head. "We think the neighbor's flowers triggered it. He's on some anxiety meds right now, but he should be fine." He pauses. "Do you need anything?"
Danny shakes his head. "No."
Steve gets up, scrounges up the remote and turns on the television for background noise. He sits on the other side of Eddie, resuming his ministrations across his fur. "Do you want to talk?"
"No," Danny repeats even quieter.
"Okay."
Danny drifts off at some point. He wakes to Steve gently shaking his shoulder.
"How about you lay down on a bed? It will be more comfortable."
Danny doesn't answer, just moves on autopilot, barely noticing the twinge in his chest as Steve helps him stand. He finds himself in Junior's bed after a short trip to the bathroom. He closes his eyes, numbly laying still as a blanket is pulled up to his chest. The bed shifts and dips as a warm weight settles in next to him, nosing into the crook of his arm. He shifts his arm automatically, wrapping it around Eddie, fingers curling into his fur in an unconscious search for comfort.
He wakes to the sound of Eddie's whimpers. It's not really what has woken him, he knows. He's grasping at his chest and has probably been doing it in his sleep. It hurts to breathe. He sits up, too fast, and his breath hitches and he can't seem to catch his breath after that. Eddie whimpers again, and then the warmth next to him is suddenly gone. He needs his pain meds, he knows, but he can't seem to untangle his legs from the blanket. By the time he does manage to get his legs out and over the edge of the bed, a light flicks on.
He blinks, squinting as his eyes try to adjust to the sudden assault.
"Danny?" Steve asks as he takes in Danny's posture and breathing. "Just hang on. I'll get your meds."
Danny doesn't acknowledge his presence, just stiffly braces his ribs with his arm as he sits on the edge of the bed and waits for him to return. Something bumps against his knee, and he opens his eyes to find Eddie watching him with wide eyes. He uses his free hand to pat the dog's head, to comfort the dog or distract himself from the pain, he's not sure.
Steve rushes back into the room with a glass of water and two pills. Danny takes them without question, swallowing them down with a few sips of water.
"You all right?" Steve asks.
"Yeah," he answers, but doesn't move to lay back down yet. He stares down at the floor in a haze, waiting for the drugs to kick in.
"Come on," Steve urges, reaching down and looping a hand around his bicep.
"Huh?" he asks, but he lets Steve help him stand and lead him out of the room. It isn't until he's standing in front of another bed that he realizes where he is. "What?"
"Just lie down," Steve explains. "I can keep a closer eye on the both of you this way."
He wants to object, but the fight just isn't in him, so he carefully lays himself down on Steve's bed. He lets Steve tuck him in again. Lets Eddie curl up next to him. Lets Steve sit and watch him until he falls back asleep.
When he wakes again, it's light out. His chest aches, and he's probably due for another round of pain meds soon, but the ache is bearable for the moment. He shifts his head, surprised to find Steve still sleeping on the other side of the bed, but after dealing with both him and Eddie yesterday, he's probably exhausted. Eddie's curled up in between them, snoring softly.
Danny sits up carefully, holding back a groan. He's horribly stiff and sore all over, but he forces himself to get out of the bed slowly, keeping his movements minimal in an attempt to try not to disturb the two still sleeping on the bed. He slowly makes his way downstairs, finds his prescription and downs two more pills before the ache in his chest gets any worse.
Before he knows what he's doing, he finds himself sitting in Steve's office, opening his laptop. He logs onto HPD's system and searches through the recent accident reports until he finds the one he's looking for. He stares at the screen for several minutes before he finally takes a deep breath and clicks on the file.
He jumps when a hand is placed on his shoulder.
"You don't need to be looking at that, Danny. Trust me, it's not going to help."
"It's not," he stutters, "I just... I need..."
He's not sure how to explain to Steve what he's trying to look for. It's probably not a good idea to look anyway. He's only after one piece of information, but somehow he'll end up in a rabbit hole and pick through the entire file. He sighs in defeat and shifts stiffly in the chair. Resting his elbows on the desk, he rubs at his eyes until blotches of color form behind them. He hears the sound of the laptop being closed softly.
"I'm going to try to see if I can get Eddie to go for a short walk. Why don't you take a hot shower? It'll help with the sore muscles. I'll make breakfast when I get back."
Steve gives his shoulder a squeeze before leaving the room, Eddie's soft paws following his footsteps. It's obvious that Steve has left him in a position to view the file if he really wants to, knowing the decision is ultimately his. He stares at the computer, contemplating opening it back up. He decides to leave it for now.
He waits until he hears the front door open and close before he moves from the desk. He trots through the house slowly, pausing for a moment as he realizes it's the first time he's been left completely alone. As much as he wanted to be left alone after the accident, he's not sure he likes the feeling now. The house is too quiet, not even Eddie's quiet breathing to fill the void.
He forces himself to move again and gets a set of clean clothes and heads into the bathroom. He starts the shower first, and by the time he manages to get out of his clothes, the shower is steamy. He only allows himself a few seconds to eye the angry red bruising across his chest before he gets into the shower. He stands under the spray for a long time, even long for his standards. The hot water loosens his muscles, and he feels immensely better by the time he steps out. Drying off and redressing is a slow process, but he doesn't have the urge to hurry anyway.
He hears Steve puttering around in the kitchen, but instead of joining him, he sits on the couch in the living room. He startles when Steve appears in front of him with a plate of eggs and toast. He's not hungry, but forces himself to eat. Thankfully, Steve didn't overload his plate, so he's able to get most of it down. Steve takes their plates when they finish and cleans up in the kitchen.
He feels tired, and his ankle is aching again, so he shifts on the couch, letting his left leg hang off the couch, foot on the floor. He lifts his sore ankle over the arm of the couch, elevating it, and lays down against the cushions. Eddie noses at him curiously and sits directly in front of him, letting out a soft whimper. The dog is definitely clingier than usual, but Danny gives in and scratches him behind the ears. Eventually, Eddie settles and lays down next to the couch.
Danny sighs and rubs his eyes again. He feels a headache coming on. He lets his mind wander a little. He still can't understand how 24 hours ago, he'd started his day in a mood which improved within minutes of meeting one person, and then it all going to hell so quickly.
"I wasn't... I wasn't looking for the report," he starts without opening his eyes. He knows Steve is sitting in the chair next to the couch. He's not sure how long he's been there, but he can sense that he's there now.
Steve shifts. "What do you mean?"
"I just," he tries to explain. "I don't... I don't know her name."
He waits for Steve's response, wondering if he'll judge him for it. He'd been so impulsive yesterday, and even afterwards, giving her a ride home, they still hadn't exchanged names.
"She... we decided not to ask about names or jobs," Danny fills the silence. "Just talk..." He lets a tired giggle slip out. "We did a little more than talking, though." He lets the implication hang in the air. "I don't know what... I'm not that kind of guy, Steve."
"You don't have to explain anything to me, Danny."
Danny sighs. He's not sure why he thought Steve would judge him for any of it.
"Do you want to know her name?"
He almost says no. He doesn't want to ruin the image of her in his head, as if knowing her name would change that. For the first time since starting the conversation, he looks at Steve. "Yeah," he finally croaks out softly.
"It's Joanna."
He looks away from Steve up at the ceiling. Joanna. He lets the name roll around in his head, not daring to utter it out loud just yet.
"My name? My name is Danny. You gonna tell me your name now?"
Joanna.
The ceiling blurs above him as tears well up in his eyes. He slams his eyes shut, tears streaking down. He has the sudden urge to just get out and run. He turns on the couch, ribs protesting the sudden movement. Before he can roll off, a hand grabs his shoulder.
"Easy, Danny."
He abandons his lame attempt to get up, instead burying his face into the cushion, clenching his fists.
"I should've... I should've been faster, or I should've been able to avoid that car without... I should've done more."
"You have to stop second-guessing yourself, Danny. You did everything you could."
"It wasn't enough... I couldn't... I couldn't save her."
He sobs into the cushion for several minutes. Steve doesn't move the whole time, just continues to rub Danny's back, offering what little comfort he can. He lays there for a long time after the tears stop, falling into an exhausted haze. At some point, he's dimly aware of his legs being placed on the couch and a pillow being placed under his head. He turns his head into it, wishing he could bury his whole self into it and just disappear. Something soft covers him.
He wakes, bleary-eyed, confusion filling his brain at first. He's still curled up on his side. The position isn't exactly comfortable for his bruised chest, but he doesn't move. He's too busy trying to decipher what's in front of him. It takes several tired blinks for him to realize what he's seeing is the back of Steve's head and shoulder. He's sitting on the floor next to the couch, arms resting in front of him on his bent up knees. He's so still that Danny briefly wonders if he's sleeping sitting up, but then he moves an arm down towards the floor next to him.
He hears a deep sigh that doesn't come from Steve and realizes Eddie must be laying on the floor next to Steve's hip. Danny's never felt so related to a dog before, but Eddie seems to feel just as morose as he does right now, and between the two of them, Steve has his hands full. He can see the tension in Steve's neck, and maybe it eases a little as he begins to stroke the dog's fur. Danny muzzily watches Steve's arm move back and forth in a rhythm that seems to oddly soothe all three of them.
He must drift off again, because when he opens his eyes, Steve is gone. He lets his arm drift down over the edge of the couch, but comes up with empty air. Eddie's gone, too.
He forces himself to sit up, letting the blanket fall to his side. He groans as the movement sets off a jolt of pain across his torso, his body protesting the way he'd been laying down. He tries to breathe through it, but the pain doesn't lessen any. Bracing his arm against his chest, he pushes himself up off the couch. When he reaches his full height, he pales and sways on his feet.
A set of hands grip his arms, bracing him before he can face-plant onto the floor.
"Danny? Sit, sit down."
Steve helps ease him back down to sit. He hangs his head low, waiting for the dizziness to pass.
"You okay?" Steve asks.
"Yeah. Just got up too fast."
He makes to try to get up again, but Steve stops him.
"Would you just sit a minute? Please?"
Danny silently agrees, if only for the concerned tone in Steve's voice. Once he sees Danny isn't going to try to get up again, Steve takes a seat on the coffee table, not directly in front of Danny but just off to the side so their knees bump each other. Danny leans forward again, resting his arms on his legs, and focuses on breathing. He does feel better, more grounded, after a few minutes.
"Can I get up now?" Danny asks, looking at Steve.
Steve doesn't answer, only looks back as if he's searching for the right words.
"What?" Danny asks.
"Danny..." Steve starts. "They found the guy. With your description of the car and the partial plate, they found him."
Danny honestly hadn't thought they would find him. They had very little information to go on. But then he remembers who exactly the people were that were looking for him. His team. They wouldn't give up until they did.
"I want to talk to him." It comes out of his mouth before he even thinks about it.
"Danny..."
"I want to talk to him," he repeats.
Steve shakes his head. "That's not a good idea."
"You can drive me there, or I'll drive myself. Your choice."
Danny gets off the couch, not waiting for a response from Steve. He heads to the bathroom, taking care of business, but also needing a moment alone. He leans against the sink for several moments, trying to control his emotions. He's relieved that they caught the guy, but it doesn't help, not after the fact. It doesn't bring her back.
When he finally steps out of the bathroom, Steve doesn't say anything about his red-rimmed eyes.
It takes some time before they arrive at the Palace. Steve makes him eat something and drink some water before they leave. They load Eddie up, too, and drop him off in the offices with the rest of the team before heading to the basement. By the time the elevator doors reopen, Danny has a knot in his stomach.
Steve leads the way to the rendition room. Danny follows, though his thoughts are far from the normal ones he has walking down these halls. When they get to the room, Steve places himself in a protective stance just to the side, but between the guy in the chair and Danny. He's not sure who he's protecting from who.
Any confidence Danny had leaves as he steps into the room and stands in front of the man. He thought he could do this. Thought he could face this man, but his mouth opens and nothing comes out. Suddenly, he wants nothing to do with him. He can't be here. Can't be in this room with him. He no longer cares what the guy has to say, what excuse he might come up with. It doesn't matter. Yelling at him, punching him, nothing he says or does will matter. It won't change anything.
Danny does the one thing he's never done before with a suspect. He flees.
He turns and rushes out of the room, Steve's hand brushing his arm on his way out. He doesn't run, but it's a near thing as he makes his way through the corridors of the basement. He doesn't have a destination in mind, just keeps walking until he finds a quiet place, an empty stairwell. He sits heavily on the steps, wincing as he forgets to be careful of his ribs.
Steve doesn't take long to find him there. He sits right next to Danny without a word.
"I thought I could," Danny finally breaks the silence. "I thought I could do it."
"It's okay, Danny."
"It's not. All he had to do was stop, you know? Or call it in anonymously, if nothing else. Why... Why didn't he just... Maybe she..." Danny cuts himself off, voice cracking.
"You can't keep questioning yourself with what ifs and maybes. You'll drive yourself crazy."
Yeah, Danny thinks. And the darkening thought that maybe it wouldn't have mattered anyway enters his mind. Even if help had come right away, she still might not have made it. But at least she would have had a fair chance.
"Are you ready to go home?"
Danny sniffs and nods. Steve stands first, offering a hand to him. Danny takes it, using his other arm to brace his ribs as he stands.
"Steve?" Danny asks quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Can we stop somewhere first?"
He meets Steve's eyes, pleading silently for him to understand what he needs. Steve nods after a moment. He knows where Danny wants to go.
The morgue is cold. Danny's been here so many times, it doesn't usually faze him. He shivers, though, as he enters the room. He stops at the door when he sees the table, sees the sheet covering her. A hand on the small of his back encourages him forward until he's standing next to the table. They don't pull the sheet down, though. That's for him to do, when he's ready.
Thing is, he won't ever be ready.
He makes himself reach out, pull the sheet carefully off her face. He still thinks she's beautiful.
"Did they contact her family?" Danny finally asks, breaking the silence.
"Yes," Noelani answers from the other side of the room.
"Good. That's good. Did..." Danny swallows sharply, voice cracking. "Did she have any kids?" He hadn't asked sooner, because he was too afraid of the answer.
"No."
He's relieved for that small mercy.
"Her sister's flying out in a few days," Noelani adds.
"Can you do me a favor? Can you... can you call me when she gets here?"
"Of course."
"Are you sure, Danny?" Steve asks.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"Okay."
He hasn't taken his eyes off her, not even with the conversation. He reaches out a hand, brushing it over her hair. Eventually, he pulls the sheet back over her.
"You ready?" Steve asked gently.
Danny nods, sniffling again as he turns back to the door. Steve thanks Noelani for the both of them on the way out.
When they get back to the house, Danny tells Steve he's going to take a nap. He heads to Junior's room and lays down on the bed, not bothering the covers. He stares at the ceiling, feeling like he should be crying, but he feels empty, and nothing comes out. Sleep doesn't come to him, either.
He gives up after awhile, thinking maybe a half hour has gone by. He gets out of the bed slowly and makes his way out to the living room. Steve is sitting on the middle of the couch. Eddie is curled up next to him, head laying on Steve's lap as the man strokes his fur. The television is on, volume low, and Steve is watching it, though clearly his gaze is vacant, and he's not taking anything in. He's got his free arm resting across the back of the couch, and to Danny, it feels like an open invitation.
Steve finally notices him when he makes it to the couch and carefully lowers himself onto the open cushion next to him. He sits closer to Steve than is strictly necessary, but Steve doesn't seem to mind.
"Couldn't sleep?" Steve asks.
Danny grunts in response.
Steve shifts his arm so it's resting across Danny's shoulders. "This okay?"
The contact is not unusual, but Steve asking his permission is a little out of the ordinary. He's not entirely sure if Steve is just making sure he's not hurting any of his injuries or if he's actually concerned whether or not Danny wants the physical contact. Instead of verbally responding, Danny gives his answer by shifting and relaxing into Steve's side. Steve seems to relax a little, too, uncertainty gone.
They stare at the TV, neither truly watching it.
Eventually, Danny clears his throat. "Thank you... for finding him so fast."
"That wasn't me. The rest of the team did that. We're all here for you, you know that. Whatever you need."
"You know, it's reminding me a lot of last year... of Grace's accident."
"Yeah," Steve agrees. "But don't go there, Danny. Grace is alive and well. Do you want to call her?"
Steve knows him too well. "Yeah, maybe in a bit, though."
"Okay. Whenever you're ready. You can take as much time off work as you need, too."
Danny knows he won't take much time off. Physically, he won't he up to field work quite yet, but he can still work in the office and keep his mind occupied.
"I'll come with you, when her sister comes."
Danny appreciates the offer, but declines. "You don't have to. I think... I think I need to go on my own."
"Okay," Steve agrees. "I get that. But I'll drive you there, at least."
Despite everything, Danny lets out a small laugh. "Of course you will."
By the time evening rolls around, Danny feels tired enough to sleep. Steve is trying another short walk with Eddie, so Danny gets ready for bed and heads up by himself. He gets into Steve's bed, telling himself it's for Steve's ease of mind, and not his own. By the time he's settled and staring up at the ceiling, Eddie jumps up onto the bed to join him. He can hear Steve downstairs locking up.
Steve doesn't say anything when he steps into the room, just goes about his nightly routine before finally laying on the other side of the bed. Eddie wags his tail, adjusting himself to get maximum attention from the two of them. They both oblige, giving him pets and scratches as he settles down.
"Spoiled mutt," Danny mutters affectionately. He glances at Steve, who's smiling. He's relieved to see it. The last couple days have been stressful for all of them. Steve reaches over, flicking off the lamp by the bed.
Danny continues idly scratching Eddie's fur, even after he hears Eddie's soft snores and Steve's breaths slow down and even out. He's not so naive to think that now that the guy is caught, that everything is suddenly going to be okay. But being here with Steve helps. Being with Eddie helps. Knowing his team will be there for whatever he needs helps, too.
He falls asleep, hand still resting against Eddie's fur.