It was, of course, the lead story in the papers and on television. The stories were a mixture of criticism and praise. Danny was lauded – by name to McGarrett's disgust – as the hero of the hour, which was entirely correct. However, both Five-O and HPD were lambasted for allowing the shooting of three cops and the length of time it took to deal with the sniper.

Arriving at the hospital for an early-morning visit to Danny before work, Steve had to endure a barrage of questions and comments from the TV crews that were camped outside the hospital, waiting for word on Danny's condition and hoping for an interview. Steve was glad that his friend's post-operative condition meant that visitors were not welcome – apart from him, of course. Steve decided that he would just make sure that nobody else was allowed to see Danny for a while and that the staff were aware of the tricks that the press could get up to when trying to get their own way.

It was still early enough that the staff were distributing breakfast trays. Most of the meals looked bland and uninteresting and Steve was glad that he wasn't expected to eat it. He pushed open the door of Danny's room and paused there for a moment to observe his injured detective.

The oxygen mask was gone, as was the bag of blood. For the moment, the IV was still in place, with a small bag of clear fluid joining the bigger bag. Steve guessed that it was probably antibiotics. Danny's face, while still paler than normal, had more colour in it than the previous evening. And best of all, Danny's eyes opened to see who had come in. "Danno. How's it?" he asked, going closer.

"Hi, Steve." Danny's voice was quiet. "I'm all right."

"Really?" Steve didn't want bravado; he wanted the truth. "I'd have thought you were pretty sore there, aikane."

A smile flitted across Danny's face. "The drugs are good," he admitted.

"Not eating?" Steve asked, looking at the breakfast tray which had oatmeal and orange juice on it.

Making an expressive face, Danny admitted, "I'm not hungry." Steve was instantly alarmed by the admission. Was something wrong? Why wasn't Danny hungry? However, Danny had not finished confessing yet. "Not for that muck," he added. "And there's no coffee."

The complaint was enough to make Steve laugh with relief. Danny must be feeling better to be complaining about the food already. He'd only had the surgery the previous evening. "You still need to eat something," Steve reminded him. "Bodies heal better when they are well nourished."

"There's nothing nourishing about eating wallpaper paste," Danny objected. "I want real food."

"You'll get some real food if you eat the wallpaper paste first," asserted a stern voice from behind Steve and both men blinked in surprise. Steve glanced over his shoulder to give the grumpy coroner a smile which Bergman ignored. "And don't even think about trying to get out of here today, young man," he added. "I'm not in the mood for escape attempts."

"I hadn't thought about it," Danny protested. It was true; he hadn't managed to sit up yet. Leaving was a whole other ball game. In an hour or so, perhaps he would have got round to it, but he recognised that Bergman was not in the mood for teasing and he yielded without too much rancour. He knew he wasn't up to leaving just yet. Tomorrow, though… He was sure he'd be fine by then.

"Good," Bergman grunted, not privy to his patient's thoughts. "How about sitting up? Food generally goes down more easily when you're upright."

"All right," Danny acquiesced and braced himself for the movement of the bed. It was not as bad as he had feared. He felt slightly light-headed for a few moments, but at least he didn't feel like throwing up. There was nothing that put you off your food like puking.

It was a little awkward feeding himself left-handed, but Danny was naturally well coordinated and he soon had the swing of it. The oatmeal had cooled and was even less appetising than it had been originally, but Danny forced it down and in the end ate about half of it. He thought that was a pretty good showing, even if Steve and Doc didn't seem to agree with him.

"Well, I've got to go to work," Steve commented. "I'll see you later, Danno. Oh, Doc, I don't want him to have any visitors apart from myself, Chin, Kono and Jenny. There are too many unscrupulous reporters hanging around; we don't want them making a nuisance of themselves in here."

"No, we don't," Bergman agreed emphatically. "Danny, you get some rest and I'll be back to see you later, after I've autopsied our sniper from yesterday."

Later, Danny thought, he would start pestering Doc to get out of bed. The sooner he was out of bed the sooner he could go home and then he could be back in the office in a couple of days. He was fine; there was no need to fuss. He closed his eyes just for a second and was asleep before Steve managed to exit the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A statement would have to be given to the press, Steve thought, if only to get them off the steps of the Palace and away from the hospital. He would give it some thought, speak to the Governor and then deliver it in a few hours. There was paperwork to be tidied up, but not as much as there often was when a case was tied up. The episode with Shem had only lasted a few hours and there hadn't been anything to suggest that the young man was going to commit a major shooting spree. Steve had spoken to Shem's psychiatrist the previous day and felt that he knew enough about the young man. The family seemed to have some issues, but that didn't matter anymore. There wasn't going to be a trial. Shem's body would be returned to the mother for burial after the autopsy. The autopsy itself was just a formality. They knew how Shem had died; Danny had shot him.

He worked on the press statement, and after speaking with the Governor on the phone, Steve made his way outside the Palace to issue it. He hated these occasions. Inevitably, the press wanted to know more than the police were willing to share. Often, there was one journalist who wanted to make a crusade of the story and angle it so that the police were seen as the bad guys, not the good guys. This was a case where that kind of thing could easily happen. There had been a very strong police presence at Diamondhead the previous day, but it had taken the death of two officers and injury to two others before the sniper had been taken down. Steve knew that his men and HPD would probably get some mud slung at them for not taking the sniper down sooner, not preventing the deaths of the HPD men and for killing the sniper. Some bleeding heart somewhere would insist that the sniper could have been brought down alive and quite probably uninjured. Taking a deep breath, he went out to face the cameras.

"Yesterday afternoon, a sniper opened fire on the highway below Diamondhead," Steve began. "HPD and Five-O worked together to find a solution to the problem. In the end, the sniper, one William Shem, was killed after he killed two officers and wounded two others. It is unfortunate that this happened. Mr Shem was known to have psychiatric problems but had refused to seek help. Our deepest condolences are offered to his family. Thank you."

"Mr McGarrett!" The pretty female reporter now hounding him, Michelle Patterson, was well known on the islands as a ruthless barracuda. Once she got her teeth into you, it was difficult to shake her off. "Who brought down the sniper?"

Taking another controlling breath, Steve replied, "A sharpshooter."

"Sources say the shooter was Officer Dan Williams of Five-O," she persisted. "Now he's hospitalised. What happened out there? Did he miss?"

"Detective Williams did take down the sniper, Miss Patterson," Steve confirmed. "He was shot by Shem and heroically took Shem down after being injured."

"How badly is he hurt?" asked another journalist, a more reputable one this time.

"The wound is not life-threatening," Steve replied, glad to be able to say it, "however, he will be out of action for some time."

"Did he have to shoot to kill?" Patterson persisted. "Couldn't Williams have just stopped him?"

"Miss Patterson, have you any experience of being pinned down by sniper fire?" Steve asked, fixing her with a ferocious glare. She appeared unmoved. "In a situation like that, the imperative is to save lives and very rarely are second chances given. In these circumstances, sharpshooters take the shot they are able to acquire. If that shot wounds and incapacitates rather than kills, we are glad of it. However, in this case, that was not possible." He glanced around the waiting journalists. "No more questions." He turned and walked back up the steps and he could hear his name being called by the persistent Miss Patterson. Steve ignored her.

"She's a witch," Jenny said as Steve came back into the outer office. Jenny was standing by the window, watching as most of the journalists packed up their gear and returned to whence they had come. The only one remaining was Michelle Patterson. "What do you bet she makes that Shem out to be some poor misunderstood kid and Danny and you the evil ones, shooting him for no good reason?" She shook her head. "I don't understand how anyone can believe a single word she says!"

While Jenny's indignation on his behalf was heart-warming, Steve knew that she was all too likely to be correct in her estimation of Michelle Patterson's reporting style. He had little doubt that she would manage to track down Shem's mother and have her sobbing on camera, claiming that nobody tried to talk her son down. Refuting that kind of reporting was pointless. The public were only too willing to believe anything that was said by Patterson simply because she was pretty and sounded sincere.

"I don't know either," Steve sighed. "Don't let it worry you, love."

"I'll try not to," Jenny agreed and went back to her desk. Steve emulated her actions and went back to his.