"When I was...overseas, on my tour of duty, I, uh...I saw a lot of stuff. I'm sorry I can't really give you more than that, but a lot of those missions are still classified. But...yeah. We were in a hot zone, and guys—" A thick swallow, "guys would lose arms and legs every week. It was just...just part of the job, you know? And those guys...those were the lucky ones. Danny, I saw stuff I can't even..."
Steve couldn't finish, and instead struggled with words for a long moment before he managed to continue.
"When I got back, I...I was ordered to see a Navy shrink. You know, someone with the proper clearance, to talk about the stuff I'd seen and done. She, uh,"
And dammit, this was the hard part.
"She diagnosed me with pretty severe PTSD, Danny. I mean, there were days were I couldn't even eat, because the hallucinations would get so bad. I was pretty screwed up, back then.
"It got better with time, though. I had meds to help me through the rough times, but for the most part, I just moved on...tried to find a purpose in life, you know? Something to distract myself from...what I've seen.
"The job sometimes makes it worse, but the nightmares...they're pretty much gone now. As strange as it sounds, it's actually helped a little. Easing me back into civilian life. I get to focus on saving lives, instead of..."
Steve didn't need to finish the sentence, Danny knew how it ended; mentally the Jersey detective made a note to never tease Steve about being a killing machine again, because the reality was...he really was. Had been.
"But this last case, man," Steve shook his head sadly, "this last case, I don't know what it was...the case with the sniper and those officers? It just...it triggered something. I...I tried to take something for it, but I don't know...it just made it worse. I tried everything, Danny, but it just...I don't know. And this case with the drug dealers, the gunfire...it was like I wasn't even me. I can't remember anything; sometimes the memories just take over, and..."
Danny waited out the silence, knowing Steve would finish. The ex-SEAL managed wobbly smile.
"Worobi was the name of my second-in-command. He was, uh...he was a good kid. Graduated top of his class, hailing from Atlanta, Georgia."
Steve's face dropped.
"He didn't make it; two weeks into our last deployment his patrol squad hit an IED. The others made it, but Worobi, his skull was just..."
Steve shook his head, and Danny squeezed his hand, both as a grounding gesture and as what little comfort he felt he could offer.
"It screwed me up for a long time," he croaked, "I mean, you see people dying all around you everyday, but you just...you never quite get over it."
"That's what makes us human, Steve," Danny murmured, meeting the other's gaze, "it means you're still alive inside."
Steve nodded numbly. "I, uh, I don't know what happened, Danny," he admitted, "at the wharf. I'm not sure what I was seeing or why I...did what I did. But I'm sorry, and if...if you don't feel safe with me leading the team, I...I completely understand. In fact, I'll hand in my letter of resig—"
"No."
"Danny—"
"No, Steven, and that's final. We are your team, and we are your ohana, and we will do whatever it takes to get you through this, but we will get through it together, because that's what family does."
Steve was not tearing up. He wasn't. "Thanks, brother," he whispered, not trusting himself to say much more.
They sat in comfortable silence for a time before Steve spoke up again. "What did...how did I get here?"
Danny shifted uncomfortably. Might as well get it over with.
"Chin shot you," he stated bluntly, as shock registered on Steve's face, "because you had me pinned against the wall with your hand on my throat, and you weren't hearing any of us. It was the only thing he could think to do. Don't worry though, it's a pretty low-impact wound. Chin had spot-on aim; he didn't nick any arteries or break anything, but it'll still take a while for the muscle to heal."
Steve nodded. He'd been shot before; he was pretty familiar with GSW treatment and therapy.
"The rest of you was the trickier part. They had to pump your stomach, Steve," Danny looked at his partner frankly, "because you had a pretty high content of happiness swirling around in there."
"I'm sorry," Steve mumbled again, "I...wasn't exactly thinking straight."
"No, you weren't," Danny agreed, "but Jesus Christ, babe, what on earth did you take?"
Steve shifted uncomfortably. "Zoloft," he answered sheepishly, "and...Yocon, or something like that."
Of all the reactions Steve was expecting, breaking into sudden laughter was not one of them. "What?" He demanded defensively, trying not to be too offended.
"No, no," Danny held up a placating hand, chuckles subsiding, "I'm not laughing at you. Okay, well, maybe I am. But you are really dense sometimes, Super-SEAL."
Steve wrinkled his head in confusion, but Danny offered no explanation, rising from his seat instead and making like he was about to leave. "Wait, Danny, what do you mean?"
The Jersey detective just shot Steve a highly amused smirk. "Relax, Steve, I'll explain. But first, I need food and a shower, because I have been sitting here with your sorry ass for about six hours. I'll be back, and I'll see if I can bring Chin and Kono along."
Seeing how Steve's face dropped at the latter name, all traces of amusement fled Danny's expression. "She's not mad at you, you know. More worried, than anything. We all were."
Steve just nodded. "Sure. See you, Danny."
Okay, I JUST FINISHED THIS STORY.
So it's up to you guys-idk, I did a coin toss but I feel better getting your feedback-do you want me to post the rest of it now, or keep you in suspense?