Title: Apologies
Summary: Rule number one. If you get someone shot, you apologize.
Disclaimer: Hawaii Five-0 is not mine. I'm just borrowing the concepts and characters for a little while.
Spoilers: 1.1, Pilot
A/N: This takes place sometime after the events of the first episode…. I hope Messrs. Kurtzman, Orci, and Lenkov don't mind me borrowing some of their dialogue to get this going.
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Rule number one. If you get someone shot, you apologize! . . .
. . . I'm sincerely sorry. . .
Your, uh, apology is noted. Acceptance is pending.
You let me know now.
Yeah, I'll let you know.
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"Danny!" Is all I hear before Steve comes barreling into me from nowhere and pushes me roughly to the side.
I stumble and fall at the same time I hear a gunshot. Getting up quickly, I aim towards the direction the gunshot came from only to hear the sound of a shotgun. The shooter slumps in the doorway where he'd been hiding and Chin comes up from behind him.
"Clear!" he yells and goes back the way he came.
I nod and expect to hear Steve yell the same thing from behind me, but he doesn't. I turn thinking there might still be danger nearby, but only find Steve lying on his back on the cement floor.
"Steve!" I exclaim as my steps quickly eat up the few feet separating us.
Kneeling next to my partner, I find that he's struggling to breathe. His eyes are closed and his face is scrunched up in pain. He's writhing form is fighting to draw breath, but failing miserably and I can see him start to panic.
"Steve! I'm here," I say and he opens his eyes. "Come on, man. Breathe!" I try to calmly command, but it does no good. Steve can't manage much beyond a very slight choking sound.
I start checking his vest for a wound and find a bullet lodged directly over the area of his heart and left lung. No wonder he can't breathe! Taking a round of that caliber and from that close a range would definitely knock the breath out of anyone. We're damn lucky the vest just barely managed to stop the bullet from actually entering his chest and likely killing him.
Steve grabs hold of my sleeve and I'm snapped back to the present. His breaths can barely be considered gasps and have a wheezy quality to them.
We lock eyes for a moment.
His eyes are clearly expressing a confidence and trust in me that I didn't previously know existed. I give him a small smile and nod hoping that I'm saying without words that I've got his back.
My partner's life is in the balance and I can only think of one thing that might help. I grab my partner's shoulders and order him to hold still. He nods and closes his eyes, but can't completely help his body's reaction to not getting enough air. I let go of his shoulders and reach for his vest's Velcro fasteners. I rip his vest open and suddenly Steve takes a deeper, gasping breath.
He starts coughing – releasing his death grip on my sleeve as he rolls over to his right side. I put my hands on his left shoulder to keep him from face planting while calmly telling him to slow his breaths. As he continues to cough, I keep reminding him that there's plenty of air now and that he needs to take deeper, slower breaths if he can.
After several minutes of this, his breathing has returned to something somewhat resembling normal. I sit back, and the relief I'm feeling is something I can't quite describe. I've never lost a partner in the line of duty, and I'm not going to let my current partner, who's so reckless with his life and who seemingly lives to practically get me killed nearly every other day, break that particular record.
Then, the realization hits that today, instead of nearly getting me killed… Today Steve risked his life to protect me – got shot saving my life.
Steve's trying to lever himself up, but can't quite make it. His breathing sounds better, but it still has this quality to it that doesn't sound quite right.
I help him to sit up, and when he starts to drop back, I adjust my position so I can prop him up against me.
"How you doing?" I ask knowing it was a stupid question, but worried that Steve hadn't yet tried to brush off my help.
I can feel his shuddering breaths against my body and hear the sounds of sirens in the distance. Chin or Kono must have called an ambulance.
"Steve. Say something or I'll make you stay in the hospital overnight for observation. You do know they're going to want to examine you, right? And, there's no way you're getting out of that – even if I have to call the governor. But, if you don't say something soon, I won't help you get out of staying the night. I'll even cuff you to the bed to make sure you'll st—."
Steve takes a relatively deep, but still shuddering breath and rasps out, "No."
"'No.' What?"
He turns his head in an effort to look at me; no doubt to glare, but the effect is completely ruined by a cough. "No hospital, Dan—Danno."
"Well partner, that's non-negotiable. It's whether—."
"I'm fine," he snaps then coughs.
"Well that cough says otherwise, McGarrett. You will get checked out, is that clear? That bullet could have done anything to your insides, and I'm not going to be responsible for you dropping dead because you were too stubborn to be cleared by a doctor!"
"Just bruised, but," Steve says then takes a slow breath, "I hear you, Part—Partner."
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I'm heading down the hospital corridor towards the ER treatment cubicles in order to pick up Steve and drive him home. The doctors have cleared him to leave as long as someone is willing to keep an eye out for potential trouble for the next 24 hours.
I wish I could say it was an honor to be nominated, but I know just how moody Steve can get at times. But, since he saved me from getting shot, I figure I had no right to complain.
In fact, I owe my partner an apology for getting him shot.
Upon entering his cubicle, I see him sitting on the edge of the gurney holding an icepack to a pretty damn spectacular bruise on his chest. His tenses and his head snaps up when my shoe scuffs the tile floor. Seeing me, he mostly relaxes and then tries to sit up straighter before he grimaces slightly and gives up.
I hand him the button down shirt he'd abandoned in the Camaro just before the raid knowing the medics had cut off his t-shirt.
"Thanks," he says setting down the icepack and grabbing the shirt.
He gets his left sleeve on with relatively little effort or apparent pain, but it's obvious putting on the other sleeve is causing him a lot of discomfort. He can't quite reach the other sleeve due to his injury, but I don't step in to help him until the fourth time he can't do it without a small grunt of pain. I hated watching him hurt himself, but I knew the guy would be too stubborn to realize he needed help unless he tried doing it himself a few times.
Stepping up to his side, I reach around behind him to grab the wayward sleeve and only hold it long enough for him to be able to put his arm through. He lifts his head and quietly thanks me once again before buttoning his shirt. When finished, he retrieves the icepack and places it once more over the bruised area of his chest.
I put my hands in my pockets unsure of what to say. But, not being known for keeping my mouth shut somehow I manage to blurt out, "Sorry."
Steve looks puzzled as he lifts his head to meet my eyes.
"Sorry," I repeat then point to his chest while continuing, "I got you shot, but thanks for saving my life, Partner."
Steve nods and replies, "You would've done the same for me."
I can't deny that. "Yes, I would have."
Steve smiles and nods slightly in return. He stands and sways a bit, but this time I immediately reach out to help him by laying a steadying hand on his arm.
He nods a 'thanks', and I smile a 'no problem'.
I lift my hand to stay any movement towards leaving and then point to the spot on my left arm where he'd gotten me shot not too long ago.
"Apology accepted."
I can see the confusion in his eyes before comprehension floods in.
Steve huffs out a laugh and says:
"Noted."
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The end.
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A/N: Please excuse the liberties I've taken with the plot, taking a bullet to the vest, etc… I really only wrote this so I could have that last bit of dialogue at the end. ;D
Thanks for reading!