Chapter five


A/N: You guys rock. Thank you so much everyone, I'm very happy that you like this story. I can't personally reply to the guests who left comments but man, you write the best reviews!

Standard medical disclaimer applies for this chapter. And just so you know, if you get to the end of this chapter thinking I am the cruelest person ever I promise this is going somewhere, and that despite being an angst lover I am fond of happy endings too.


The sound of the gunshot echoes around the warehouse.

Squinting his eyes in the semi-darkness, Steve watches Doyle fall to the ground with a heavy grunt. He moves closer, gun still trained on the sprawled form in front of him, only to realize in horror that it's Danny who's been hit.

"Why'd you take the shot, man?" His friend asks as he struggles to breathe.

Steve drops to his knees. "I'm sorry, Danny. I thought I had him…" He tears his friend's shirt open and clamps both hands on the wound. "I thought I had him…"

Danny coughs, and a few bubbles of blood appear on his lips. "I trusted you… You were supposed to have my back…"

"I'm sorry, man. I'm sorry. I'm gonna get you out of here, you're gonna be alright…" He picks him up, cradling the smaller frame protectively against his chest as he starts to make his way out of the building.

Glassy eyes stare accusingly at him. "It's too late…" And then just like that, Danny's gone, his body going limp in Steve's arms.

"Uncle Steve?"

Steve jumped at the light touch on his shoulder. He straightened up in his chair, eyes darting around for a moment before settling on the familiar figure standing at his side. "Gracie?"

"Are you okay? Were you having a nightmare?"

Touched by the girl's concern, he pushed the disturbing images that had been plaguing him since the accident to the back of his mind and got to his feet. "I'm alright, Gracie," he whispered, pulling her into a hug and kissing the top of her head. Having someone actually care about his well-being was still an alien concept to him, but Danny's daughter was just as smart and kind-hearted as her dad.

The thought of not being around to watch her grow into a beautiful young woman stirred a wash of emotions so intense it almost took his breath away. These people were the closest thing he had to a family besides Mary, and he couldn't bear to lose them.

"Any changes?" she asked, the hope in her voice cutting through Steve's heart like a knife. It had been 36 hours, and Danny's condition hadn't changed. The ventilator was still breathing for him and although some of the color had returned to his face and his status had been upgraded from critical to serious, he'd yet to regain consciousness.

Steve shook his head. "I'm sorry." He glanced at his wristwatch. 8:36am. Of a school day. "Does your mom know you're here?"

Grace averted her gaze. She walked up to Danny's bedside and started rubbing her father's arm, running her fingers up and down the skin just below the IV line. "I wanted to see him. Mom wouldn't take me so I took the bus as soon as she dropped me off at school.

Leaning over the plastic railing, she planted a kiss on the unconscious man's forehead. "Hi, daddy... I know that you need to heal and that you're probably not ready, but please wake up. Charlie and I need you…"

Steve backed away from the bed, feeling a pain in his chest as if someone was squeezing the air out of his lungs. He couldn't bear to watch this, couldn't stand to see the pain in Grace's eyes. He needed to get out of there…

"I wanna know what happened." The girl's voice stopped him in his tracks as he was about to leave.

Nonononono

How was he supposed to tell her he'd screwed up?

Lou had been in charge of notifying Rachel after the shooting, and he wasn't sure how much the girl knew. "Gracie..."

"Please, Uncle Steve. People treat me like I'm still a baby but he's my dad. I deserve to know."

The determination in her eyes broke Steve's resolve. He wished someone had told him what was going on when he was her age and his father shipped him away without as much as a goodbye. He knew what it felt like to be lied to and wasn't about to do that to her. Danny's daughter deserved better. And he loved her too much to disappoint her.

So he told her everything, expecting a loud, passionate reaction that would've made her father proud. He deserved rage, hatred, pain. What came out of her mouth instead shook him to the core.

"It wasn't your fault, Uncle Steve." Grace took both his hands in hers and looked straight into his eyes. "I know how much you care about Danno, and I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt him. That man was holding him hostage and he could've killed him. You just did what you had to do."

And almost killed him myself…

"It's not that simple…"

"It is to me." She wrapped her arms around him, her head on his chest. "You've always been there for us. I know you didn't mean to hurt him."

Steve barely held back the tears.

He wished he could believe her, wished her words would bring him comfort. Grace seemed to love him unconditionally, the kind of love he'd longed for but never experienced in his life. As he held her in his arms, he felt with absolute certainty that he would do anything for her.

Even if it meant never seeing her again.


Over the following two days, Steve found himself sitting in the same chair by the bed. Although completely worn out, he'd stubbornly refused to leave his friend's side other than to stretch his sore muscles, go to the bathroom or drive home for a quick shower and a change of clothes.

Friends had come and gone, making sure he had everything he needed and reminding him they were just a phone call away. Steve had thanked them, touched by the overwhelming support, but the guilt that was still folded around him made it impossible to accept help he didn't deserve.

He barely ate, his stomach churning at the mere thought of ingesting any kind of food.

At night, when the ward was silent and he was alone with his thoughts, sleep just refused to come. His mind wouldn't quiet down long enough to grant him some much-needed rest, the image of his best friend lying still in the warehouse haunting him every time he closed his eyes.

On the third day they'd weaned Danny off the ventilator, replacing the device with a nasal cannula. He had responded well, prompting Doctor Cornett to admit he was cautiously optimistic that he'd make a full recovery.

On the fourth day, they'd told Steve he was showing signs of waking up. Steve had smiled then, the first real smile since his nightmare had begun, the vise-like grip around his heart loosening ever so slightly.

On the fifth day, Steve left Danny's side to grab a cup of coffee. All those hours of neglecting every basic human necessity had taken their toll on him but he was still there, determined to be the first face his friend would see when he woke up. On the way to the cafeteria he called Lou, more to appease the older man than for his own good, and learned that Bobby Kaleo, the thug who had given them Doyle's location, had been grilled in the Blue Room for hours but knew nothing about who was calling the shots. Apparently they didn't trust him with anything but driving whoever needed it around.

Steve hadn't bothered to ask for updates on the case since the accident. That wasn't his main concern right now. As the head of Five-0, he knew he had a responsibility to the Governor, his team, and the people of Hawaii. But he just couldn't bring himself to focus, or care about anything that wasn't Danny and the grief eating him alive.

The phone call took longer than usual, Grover almost reluctant to let him go as if he'd sensed some kind of danger over the phone. Stepping back into the ICU, he noticed a nurse coming out of Danny's room, two vials of freshly-drawn blood in her hands.

A sense of dread rose within him and he felt his heart pick up speed. "Everything okay?"

She nodded. "Detective Williams is awake. Doctor's with him now."

Wide-eyed, he stared at her in confusion for a moment like his brain wasn't fast enough to take in the information he'd been given. Then a grin crept onto his face, quickly stretching into a full-blown smile. "He's awake?"

Leave it to Danny to wait for the exact moment he wasn't around.

The nurse nodded again, a weird expression on her face that Steve couldn't quite place, and disappeared towards the elevator. If he didn't know better, he could've sworn she was giving him a sorrowful, apologetic look.

Frowning, he approached his friend's cubicle, hesitating at the entrance as he took in the scene in front of him: Doctor Cornett was standing at the foot of the bed, his back to Steve, and Danny... Danny was awake: groggy, barely able to move, but alive.

And yet something felt wrong with the picture.

Even before he registered the fear in Danny's eyes and heard the cardiac monitor increase its speed, it was the doctor's voice that caught his attention.

"Detective, please calm down. Nerve damage is not uncommon after an injury like yours," he explained, speaking in a calm, clear manner.

Steve's heart missed a beat.

"Yes, it might result in neurological deficits but it's still too early to determine if it's permanent. Your body has been through a tremendous amount of stress but you're doing great and making progress." Pausing to make sure his patient was still following him, Doctor Cornett moved to the side of the bed to check Danny's vitals, still oblivious to Steve's presence. "You just woke up after a major trauma, so you need to relax and get some rest. We're going to give you something to make you more comfortable, okay? And we'll perform more tests later."

It took Steve all but three seconds to process the physician's words and their implications.

Danny couldn't move his arm.

His breath got stuck in his throats and he paled, his hopes annihilated by the unexpected news.

He had ruined his best friend's life.

The phone he was holding slipped from his fingers, dropping to the ground with a small thud as he stood there, his face a picture of devastation and grief, until he felt the walls holding him up starting to collapse and blindly headed outside.

Nausea clawed at his throat as he dashed out of the hospital, his stomach contracting violently. He tried to force the bile down and made it all the way to the parking lot before he lurched forward and heaved until there was nothing but an empty pit in his gut.

After what seemed like an eternity he took a shuddering breath, wiped at his mouth and straightened up, moving on autopilot towards his vehicle.

His insides felt as if there was nothing there anymore: nothing to feel, nothing to say, nothing left but the black void that was enveloping him. His heart was still beating but his chest felt hollow. His eyes could still see but the world seemed so far away. Was it shock? He couldn't say. His mind was unwilling to think anymore.

Staggering on his feet, he unlocked the Silverado and climbed in, hastily closing the door as if it could isolate him from the rest of the sat with his forehead resting against the steering wheel, fingers wrapped so tight around it that his knuckles were white.

A sob ripped out of him and he ducked his head attempting to stifle it but it punched through, and with that first came many more. Ripping through muscles, bones and guts because the pain was too much, the desolation he felt too consuming.

Raw, salty tears fell from his eyes, drenching his shirt.

And he just broke down, right there in the parking lot of the busiest hospital in Honolulu.


Danny didn't remember much about the first time he'd woken up, except the fear that had gripped him when he realized he couldn't move his right arm.

Fear that was still there as he awoke again a short time later and gradually became aware of sounds and feelings, the lack of sensation coming from the still limb a stark contrast to the dull pain radiating through every other muscle in his body.

Eyes closed, he tried to ignore it and focused on the beeping in the background, on the slight pull of the IV line on the back of his good hand and the cool air under his nose.

His thoughts were fuzzy, no doubt courtesy of the drugs they had him on. Memories of sounds and images flashed in short bursts. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite grasp it. He felt weak, and even the task of parting his eyelids seemed tiring.

Pushing himself up the bed a little with his good arm, Danny couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips at the movement, alerting the man sitting next to him.

"Danny?"

He blinked a few times to clear his vision and turned his head to the left, spotting a blurry and yet familiar figure hunched in the chair by the bed. His throat was dry and still sore from the breathing tube and the raspy "Yeah…" that came out was the best he could muster.

Lou Grover got up and reached for the cup of ice on the bed stand, holding a spoonful to Danny's lips. "Better?" he asked as his friend sunk his head back into the pillow, his features visibly relaxing.

Danny nodded.

"How you feeling?"

He closed his eyes, took a long breath, then expelled it slowly and opened his eyes again. "Upset…confused…In pain. Y-you pick." He lowered his gaze, looking at his unmoving limb. "Can't move my arm…"

"I know, man." The ex-SWAT Captain looked positively devastated. He was leaning forward in his chair, elbows on his knees and looking at him as if he was supposed to remember something important.

Danny's heartbeat increased slightly. For a brief moment, he had the distinct impression that something horrible had taken place, something he was missing, but he was too out of it to pinpoint what that was.

"How long?" he asked.

"Five days."

"Five days…" he repeated, feeling the exhaustion seep further and further into his bones despite having just woken up. He pressed his cheek to the pillow, trying to remember what had landed him into the Intensive Care Unit. A standoff. The smell of gunpowder and copper. His partner's face, fear in his eyes.

"Where's Steve?" Even on drugs and about to be lured back to sleep he recognized that Grover sitting there beside him was a bad sign.

Lou ducked his head for a moment, staring down at his hands as if looking for the right words. "He's… he'll be back. Don't you worry, man, you just get some rest."

Danny wanted to ask more but didn't have the strength to do it, so he nodded again as his eyes started to drift shut and was asleep within seconds, his heart slowing to a more peaceful beat.

Lou Grover watched his friend's breathing even out as he fell back to sleep and sighed. He hated lying to his friends but this time he'd had no choice. Danny wasn't ready. He reached into his shirt's pocket and took Steve's cellphone out, staring at the web of cracks marking the screen.

Williams was still struggling to remember but would demand answers soon enough, and he prayed he wouldn't be the one to tell him that McGarrett had pulled the trigger and was now MIA.

TBC