But you shattered my wings
So I would fall to earth
Steve paced the surgical waiting room. Thirteen steps toward the door, then thirteen steps toward an ugly abstract painting on the opposite wall. Repeat. Chin wasn't even sure Steve knew he was doing it, but the short brown (why does it always have to be brown?) carpet in the room was looking distinctly lighter underneath McGarrett's laser straight path.
"Steve, please come sit down. They're going to bill us for that carpet if you keep going."
Steve nodded absently, hearing the words but not processing them, and continued. Thirteen steps, turn, thirteen steps. The pattern was understandable, the simplicity comforting to his racing mind. This was something he could understand. What had happened out there? He couldn't force his brain to untangle the shattered pieces of his thoughts long enough to make them into a picture. He just couldn't. So, thirteen steps. Turn. Thirteen steps.
He was still walking when a woman in blue surgical scrubs came into the room. He didn't look up, didn't seem to notice at all.
"Steve McGarrett?" She asked in a melodious tenor. "Commander?"
The second address seemed to snap Steve out of his stupor. An ingrained response born of years of training.
"Yes?" He said, too quietly, and then, clearing his throat, "Yes?" Stronger this time, but still with a breathy panic edging the words.
"Mr. McGarrett, you're listed here as Daniel William's next of kin, is that correct?"
"Danny. His name is Danny. Nobody calls him Daniel except his parents." Steve blurted automatically. Then shut his mouth tightly to avoid a further flood of near nonsense as it burbled up his throat. The unsaid words burned in his chest and he longed to tell the woman in front of him everything. Everything about Danny. How much he annoyed him, how stupid his socks were, that his diet was abysmal for a man his age. That he loved him. Oh, that was the worst hurt of all. He loved him. If she knew would it make a difference? If she knew he would move heaven and earth just to see Danny alive, would it matter?
"I'm sorry, Danny then. I wanted to come and tell you personally that he made it through the surgery just fine, if you could follow me, we could talk in my office? It's a bit more private."
Steve looked questioningly at his team, waiting as though afraid they might stop him. Chin just nodded, gesturing minutely that Steve should go. Kono stood up and hugged him, a stray tear sliding down a cheek reddened with the salt of hours of tears. She let go of him and dashed the offending drop away quickly, giving Steve a watery smile and pushing him gently towards the door.
"O...Okay," Steve said slowly, his heart ready to burst from the news that Danny wasn't dead, that Danny was alive. Alive.
But something seemed off. The tight smile of the doctor, the way her shoulders sagged slightly. Something was wrong. But he followed her anyway, followed her even though it felt like his fragile heart might break if one more thing went wrong. If Danny wasn't whole.
Alive, he repeated to himself over and over again. He's alive. That's all that matters.
Hours later (he had stopped keeping track sometime between arriving at the hospital without his partner's loud mouth in the passenger seat and almost passing out during his conversation with Danny's surgeon) Steve sat next to Danny's hospital bed, one of his best friend's limp hands held in both both of his own.
Danny looked terrible. His face swollen and puffy from the meds, his eyes sunken, and a clear tube that looked much too big to fit snaking from his mouth. From the amount of white skin tape on his partner, Steve thought that might be the only thing holding him together. He suppressed a hysterical giggle at the thought of Danny as humpty dumpty, shattered but with each piece held carefully in place. Maybe that would be enough. He prayed it was enough. At this point Steve felt like the one breaking.
He released one of his hands from the death grip on Danny's and reached up to the stark white bandage on his neck. His fingertips brushed it before recoiling as if he had been burned.
This was all his fault. Because of him Danny might never speak again.