I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: So, half of the prior chapter and half of this chapter had originally been the final. This time, I'm glad the muse took over. Umm, though my poor beta has properly disowned me for life. Seriously apologies for SO many incomprehensible rewrites until it felt more right! Thank you KQ ... and Swifters for such support.
Well ... I hope you ALL enjoy this ending.
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Danny remained in a fog for hours after Steve's quiet visit, which was truly Doctor Benning's master plan. Rest, sleep and heal were the only jobs he had on his docket and she'd set him up nicely for success. Steve's pre-dawn visit easily turned into a dream made up of spotty words, half-heard phrases and a blurred outline of Steve's face softly framed by darkness.
He sensed people coming and going around him, but that was all. For the first time he could remember since being in the plane crash, he was completely pain-free. Nothing ached. He couldn't even feel the tiniest scrape and he reveled in being numb, simply allowing himself the comfort of a peaceful half-light.
It was hours later when he began to wake more to a faint smell of food and a louder din. The meds had been slightly dialed back as if to test the waters. And almost reluctantly, Danny partly opened his eyes, squinting into the brighter light of the small room.
A room which he didn't recognize and yet, he knew he was in the intensive care unit. Splintered feelings teased his memory. A remembered terrible agony in his abdomen, flashes of light, and a faint feeling of being moved.
Steve? Doctor Benning ... a hectic sense of urgency. And the breath-taking, crippling volume of pain ... that had lasted up until the very last moments of what he could recall.
Something had happened; no doubt there. However, his memories were a muddled mess now. Confused, Danny blinked, frowned and then fumbled for the bedside remote which someone had handily left tucked up against the protective rail.
"What happened?" He asked as soon as the nurse entered his room. His fingers had discovered the disturbing existence of a new bandage across his abdomen and stress riddled his tone. Steve was nowhere in sight and he was hooked up to a startling number of machines. While he certainly didn't feel well, he realized that he might be as miserable as he last remembered either. No longer chilled to the bone, there was some normal comfort to his body.
Yet something had been wrong with him ... something had happened to him.
Utterly flabbergasted by his own current state of affairs, Danny's mouth fell open as the nurse bent over him. He thought he might even recognize her and frowned in response to her soothing smile. "How are you feeling, Danny? You've been sleeping yourself out which is precisely what Doctor Benning had hoped for ... if you're hungry, you can have something light to eat. Commander McGarrett's been terribly worried about you, too. He'll be pleased to know you're awake now."
"Steve? But ...?" Unsure of what else to say, Danny's frown only deepened. He was confused and out of sorts. His only logical response was to shake his head again, one hand tiredly raising in askance. "But ... what happened ... why am I here?"
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"Commander McGarrett," the nurse at the ICU's main desk welcomed him by name as he slowly made his way through the doors. When her head dropped down to compete whatever task she was dedicated to, he didn't say a single word. He simply kept going, bypassing other medical personnel, with Danny's room in his sights. He could have lied to himself, but the thought never even crossed his mind. This post-lunch stroll had had this destination as its goal from the very start. Especially after learning that Danny had finally managed to wake after hours of a deep, drug-induced sleep.
Steve tugged the thin hospital robe more tightly around him as he crossed the hallway, the small stuffed purple giraffe tucked under his elbow, his opposite hand naturally falling to the conveniently placed handrail. It felt good to walk even though the healing incision was still tight and he'd likely done too much already. His legs were tired and his abdomen burned a bit. He forgot all of it when he entered Danny's room, at first still doubtful of what he might find, only to happily see the brightness of his friend's blue eyes right away.
The two automatically smiled, one to the other, and Steve instantly relaxed. "You look better," he said in relief. "How do you feel?"
"I'm not sure I feel better," Danny replied in all honesty. "Doctor Benning was here ... she explained what happened ... the surgery. I still only remember bits and pieces of what happened last night." He was only slightly inclined, the angle gentle for the abuse his abdomen had endured. His face though, conveyed his ongoing shock over the significance of an injury he'd been completely ignorant of.
"I didn't know ... Benning said the same ... I don't know what to think anymore."
"I bet," Steve said, appreciating the clarity in Danny's eyes but not liking the pale complexion or wispy way he was speaking. He was completely unsettled by Danny's obvious confusion and shock over what had happened to him. Truth be told, so was Steve, too.
Thinking it best to lighten the mood for the both of them, Steve shuffled closer to the bed. "Hey, I got you something." With one hand wrapped around the rail, he self-consciously took the stuffed giraffe out from under his arm and waggled it stupidly in front of Danny's face.
"It's a giraffe," he lamely offered, encouraged by the astonished smile which lifted one side of his friend's mouth.
"Ah, so it is. You shouldn't have, babe," Danny grinned as he buried his fingers in the plush purple faux fur. Doctor Benning had reminded him of Steve's earlier visit - at least, that it had indeed happened. She kindly advised that he should anticipate seeing his partner and friend again ... likely around lunch time and Steve hadn't disappointed. He was right on time based on the clock. Right on time and boasting a most unlikely gift.
However, Danny hadn't seen this particular purple stuffed toy in the original pile sent their way; this little gift of sorts was most unexpected and he knew why Steve had picked it out.
"Thanks... I think," Danny's grin broadened as he held the toy, unable to help some of his light teasing. "It's cute ... and very ... purple. Where did you get it?"
"Downstairs in the lobby's gift shoppe," Steve replied, frowning obstinately when Danny eyed him quizzically from head to foot, the grin across his face the only thing banishing the heavy lines of fatigue. "You said ... once. Oh hell, Danno, never mind! It's a giraffe ... you like giraffes!"
"And you remembered," Danny teased again. "But how did you manage it?"
Steve knew what Danny was implying about a lack of a wallet or place to keep money, and he tugged the thin hospital robe closer around his body. He'd tried to carry the potted plant from Danny's kids, but that was a dismal failure. The plant was a shade too big and embarrassingly too heavy in his condition for the unexpected strain it had put on his stomach. Steve had barely picked it up. He'd barely had time to rock it into the crook of an elbow when he'd felt the warning twinge across his stitches and he'd put it quickly back down. But he'd wanted to do something and, at a loss, he'd gone to the small gift shoppe. He'd seen the giraffe and that had sparked a memory which had made Steve smile. Danny's favorite animal - go figure. Whether that tiny gem had been a joke or said seriously, Steve immediately wanted the toy. So, he'd bought it on a whim. Or more accurately, simply taken it with promises to pay for it later.
"I charged it to the room," he said with a shrug.
"You, what?" Danny said in disbelief. "This isn't the Ritz-Carlton, Steven, you can't just charge things to our room. Then again, maybe you can ... Army perk?"
"Shut up, Danno," Steve replied, his lips twisting upwards again as he refused to bite at the blatantly wrong reference. Their speech was stilted and uncomfortable. He didn't say a word as he measured Danny's complexion and then allowed his eyes to linger on his chest, knowing full well what was hidden underneath the light cover of blankets. The soft tissue damage, plus the added insult brought on by yet another round under a surgical knife.
"You scared the crap out of me," Steve finally admitted, his free hand motioning up and down his partner's torso. "I read the reports and saw the pictures of the crash site, too ... you did damned good pulling off a miracle like that." He heaved in a deep breath, a tiny grin lifting one side of his mouth to equal Danny's slightly amused tilt of an eyebrow. Apparently this was not the conversation his partner had anticipated. Frankly, Steve hadn't been entirely sure what he'd planned to say either. But seeing Danny awake, alert and looking far better than just the night before, was an immense relief.
Steve chuffed a pleased sound before offering another compliment. "Damned good, partner."
"I had help," Danny replied noncommittally. "Ground control was quite ... helpful. Plus, it's not too hard to punch a few buttons or pull a few sticks. And as far as beaches go ... I had one helluva landing strip." He shrugged off the compliment and then winced, his eyes closing briefly. "Besides, you scared the shit out of me, too. But then again and to be fair, you do that to me every single day of the week."
"Yeah, well," Steve said awkwardly as their moods fluctuated once again. "But really, you had nothing, buddy. No engines. No back-up. You didn't have a damned thing and still, you got us down in one piece." The 'barely' hung on his lips, sparking a defensive flare of temper before being quickly tamped down.
Not at his friend, but for him.
Danny had been entirely alone with a badly wounded partner, a dangerous criminal and a crippled piece of plunging metal which had been more tin can than plane by that point. What he'd pulled off alone was nothing shy of a miracle. And now, days later, he was still suffering from the repercussions and unfounded or not, Steve felt a pang of guilt combined with an likely feeling of fear as Danny lay helplessly in an intensive care unit.
"Nothing ... and no one ... except that damned stubbornness," Steve insisted quietly. "You should have put her down in the water, too."
"What? And swim your ass out of that wreck? Before or after we'd both drowned?" Danny sniffed out a quiet, and not so amused chuckle then. "I'm me, not you, big guy. Except for now ... maybe now you're a little part of me, too."
"God help me there, Danno," Steve muttered lightly, only to receive a weak smile in response. That sketchy attempt at a smile meant that Danny was still upset and just coping, on guard as they tried to fall into a careful give and take of emotions and double-talk. Stomach twisting as he realized just how close he'd come to losing his friend just a few short hours earlier, Steve was just as upset. He felt incredibly guilty and he realized in that instant that he, too, was barely coping with everything.
The near deadly attack - his own helplessness - this odd feeling brought on by knowing his friend's insanely selfless act had left him with a new organ inside his body. It was all entirely overwhelming and Steve felt ... useless and ... guilty. Eyes full of mixed emotions, Steve glanced up when Danny tried to laugh, cringing at Danny's words no matter how innocent they were meant to be.
"Someone better keep an eye on you," Danny managed to chuckle softly, still without any humor, and immediately thought the better of it. The action caused an overt wince and Steve grimaced in sympathy when Danny hissed softly in pain.
"You okay? You want me to get somebody?"
"No. I'm fine," Danny replied. "They dialed back the meds a bit and I'm due soon. But I'm good ... I'm okay." He paused to wait the painful stitch out, a bit of sweat beading his upper lip which had Steve frowning unhappily.
"I hate water on a good day, Steven," Danny eventually whispered. "And this - by far - was most definitely not one of those."
"No." Steve bit his lip as he felt a spark of tears briefly threaten. He watched as Danny's fingers turned white as he just about strangled his plush gift. Pain? A spike of remembered fear? He couldn't be sure, but he didn't like the response and it meant that Danny wasn't taking care of himself ... again. His partner had been faced with a mammoth challenge and he'd gotten them safely out on the other side; but at what cost? Watching as Danny weakly tried to adjust his upper body, only to give up, his face momentarily creased with pain, Steve couldn't help but feel guilty.
"No, it sure as hell wasn't a good one, was it? We've definitely had better," Steve replied while carefully gauging Danny's face. Days had gone by and not a single one of their o'hana had really questioned Danny's condition or state of recovery. Only Steve's negligible health had been the focus - even Danny had focused solely on him to do the unthinkable - and it had nearly become a fatal mistake.
"Are you sure you don't want me to get someone?" He pressed, worried when Danny briefly closed his eyes, his lips thinning into a pained, white line.
But instead of answering, Danny squinted up into Steve's face. He read the expression which was simultaneously disturbed, stressed and anxious all rolled into one and came to a startling conclusion of his own.
"You're mad at me, aren't you?" Danny suddenly said in amazement. "You're ... mad."
There was a long moment of silence as Steve struggled past a few remarks which wanted to tumble from his lips. The most immediate would have been absolute denials to his friend's statement. But what he allowed himself to say wound up actually being partly the truth. Partly because he was still dancing around his real feelings.
"About not taking care of yourself? Yeah, you're damned right I'm mad," Steve ground out, ruing his words as they once more tumbled thoughtlessly from his mouth. "You're doing it now in fact! What the hell did you think you were doing, Danny?!"
"Me?! Don't you dare even try to tell me that you wouldn't have done the same thing!" Danny griped back defensively. His eyes filling with pain as a deep breath pulled on his abdomen. In his hand, the purple toy was nearly being throttled to death, its long neck nearly bent in half. Yet he wouldn't quit, even when his voice cracked and his face began to lose even more of its color.
"In fact, you have ...not once have you ever deigned to ever listen to me, Steven! You, of all people, aren't going to dictate shit to me about not listening ... or not having back up ... or, God ... Steve. Really?!"
"Danny, you know what ...," Steve started to object, hackles raised and just as stridently before he simply stopped. Danny was breathing hard, his complexion poor. Beads of sweat had multiplied alarming across his forehead now. Moisture pooled at the base of his throat.
They were doing it again. The tempers; the anger. The incredible depth of defensiveness. Their voices were on the rise and if his stomach felt like knots inside, he was sure that Danny was feeling the same thing. What were they doing? Why did they always wind up in such a strange state of malcontent? Steve shook his head, heaving in a lungful of air to put a halt to the tide. Why did they keep wind up here and why couldn't at least he control it?
"God dammit, calm down. Just ... stop. Please." Ever so quietly, Steve sighed out a forlorn question which he meant in all honesty. "What the hell were you thinking, Danno?"
"I was thinking about getting us down in one piece ... alive," Danny argued back, his voice hoarse but he was still digging in hard. "I was thinking about you bleeding out in front of my damned face. What the hell else would I be doing, Steven? Huh? Why are you so mad about that?"
Steve groaned under his breath, shaking his head to the contrary as he backpedaled nervously. He didn't want to argue or fight; besides Doctor Benning's clear warnings that Danny maintain a calm state, he simply didn't want to go down this rabbit hole. Steve followed Danny's line of sight and looked down at his hands, surprised to see that he was virtually strangling the bed's metal rail. His knuckles were white, his fingers trembling. It took an effort, but he loosened his grip just enough to appear normal.
"God ... Danny!" Steve groused helplessly. "No. No, I'm not ... mad at you. At least, not in the way you think!"
"There's different ways to be mad?" Danny asked, clearly astonished. "How's that work exactly?"
"Maybe ... just maybe, I'm mad at me," Steve answered after a long long pause. "With you though? I don't know. With you, I think I'm worried ... upset... you went down in front of my eyes last night. I didn't know what to do or what to think ... and then ... I saw you ... I saw you, buddy."
But it was so much more than that because for the first time he could recall, he was truly scared out of his mind. He hadn't realized just how scared until he'd seen the crime scene pictures and the added proof of just how close he'd come to dying. He'd had close calls, but this was different than all of those other terrifying times before - including that time when he'd been taken by the Taliban. Danny had come for him then; hell, he always seemed to be there for him. Yet, this was different because of Danny and his incredible, sacrificing ways. Steve didn't know what to do about Danny's ultimate decision to save his life. In fact, he was avoiding even trying to come to terms with the piece of his friend he literally now held inside his own body. All of that had been preying on his mind and he'd not recognized his own poor attitude and evasive tendencies as a way of not ... coping ... putting his head in the sand. No, he wasn't mad at all; he was terrified that he not only had lost control of a situation, but that someone had gone to such an extent ... unselfishly ... for him.
"I'm sorry," Steve muttered under his breath, the glossy full color image of the blood-stained pilot's seat foremost in his mind's eye. Except for the man lying bed-ridden in front of him, he shouldn't be alive.
"For what?" Danny asked tiredly. "Steve ..."
"No wait. Let me finish, Danny. I'm sorry because I wasn't there for you. I ... I wasn't there," Steve whispered desperately. "I wasn't there for you and I haven't been here ... now ... either. And I don't know what to do with any of what's going on or what's been happening."
He scrubbed hard at his face while gesturing again towards his friend's chest and all of the hidden bruising, complimented now by a new surgical scar next to one which looked precisely as his own. "You honestly scared the crap out of me. Why didn't you say something? I read the accident reports and saw the pictures. You never said a word and I didn't ask. Danny, I didn't realize ... and I should have. I just ... I should have."
Steve was shaking as he inhaled a strangled breath of air, his chest tight as he finally voiced the truth. He wasn't mad at Danny ... Steve was scared for his best friend and mad at himself for not being in control when he should of been; for not even asking about Danny's well-being when he should have asked. He felt guilty as hell for being the recipient of such an insanely selfless gesture and he simply couldn't process all of it.
The assumptions ... the bad jokes ... maybe even his rude behavior. Especially what he'd blurted out so nastily about Charlie one day learning to hate his father ... as much as he did. 'God! Why the hell did I say that?!' Steve silently harangued himself, the knot inside his chest tightening even more to an almost physical pain. He'd had come across as nothing short of insensitive because of his own fears - and days later, he was finally realizing it because of a terrible wakeup call at his best friend's expense.
"Yeah, I should have, Danno. I just ... should have."
"The accident reports? You mean from the plane crash? When the hell did you have time to read those?" Danny inhaled sharply before shaking his head to the contrary about Steve's subsequent comments. Sometime within the last few hours, Steve had managed to get his hands on the accident reports. And Danny shouldn't have been entirely surprised by that. Of course Steve would want to see them. Of course, he'd want to see everything and evidently those desires had been rushed to the top of the list upon his unfortunate medical decline. Trying to understand where his friend's head was at, Danny didn't know what to say.
"Should have been what? You didn't exactly have a choice, Steve. You damned near died."
Steve winced as he picked one word out from Danny's short retort: choice. That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? All choice had been removed from him from the moment he'd been shot, to the very second a life-saving decision had been made for him. Closing his eyes to settle his frazzled nerves, Steve inhaled slowed and carefully, expelling the air softly before trying to continue. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see Danny seemingly deep in thought.
"So, Danny?" Steve gently coaxed. Danny had zoned out and his eyes jerked upwards back towards Steve, his surprise obvious when he saw the ongoing strain of dark emotions ruining Steve's features.
"What?" Danny whispered almost inaudibly, completely derailed and drained by Steve's admissions. He watched quietly, his attention drawn back to his friend's face, watching as Steve's eyes fell to the death grip he still maintained on the purple giraffe while stammering out a few questions.
"How about you? Are you ... mad? You must be ... and I wouldn't blame you one bit. Especially after what I said about Charlie ... and me," Steve rasped out, a broken chuckle ending on a cough. "It's not true, you know. I don't know why the hell I said those things... I didn't mean a single word of it ..."
"Nope. I'm not mad, either," Danny said, cutting him off as his fingers purposefully relaxed one by one, the purple giraffe slowly assuming its real shape. Anyone else would have been baffled by the ebb and flow of what might have sounded like a stilted war of words. Yet, they were suddenly and perfectly on the same page as they skimmed over one topic to take on another.
"And I know ... we both said things which we didn't mean," Danny repeated softly. "I was ... uh ... scared, too. You nearly died on me ... right there. In that damned plane. Then ... after."
"Yeah, well," Steve murmured softly as he recalled the volume of dark, bloody stains evident in the pictures taken of the plane's interior. His blood. Danny had been there for him and Steve was defining things much differently now. Especially after ... after - after everything had been put to bed - this after he was accountable for and he felt as if he'd let Danny down. All control had been removed from his hands, yet he felt as if he'd failed. And Steve was letting him down again, too, as he heard the low moan of pain which Danny failed to stifle.
"That's it, Danno," Steve said, his lips firmly pressed together as he indignantly thumbed the call button. ""You're hurting," he insisted when Danny rolled his eyes helplessly to object. "You're hurting ... and you're mad ... and I deserve that because I let you down."
"Not mad, Steven ... and you didn't let me down," Danny whispered while staring at the purple plush fibers, some of which was stuck to his damp fingers. "Never have. Everything that happened was out of your control; it was out of both of our hands."
In truth, he probably had been mad at one time. Steve's words about his son had been sharp and bitter. But his own rants had been driven by fear. Now though? He'd already moved on. Now, Danny studied Steve's tired eyes and noticed the slouched shoulders; the subtle tremble of his fingers which remained virtually tied to the bed's rail. Right then, Steve was as scared as he'd been, and trying to come to terms with his feelings of failure and impotence. For a man used to being in absolute control, Steve was being forced to swallow a terrible pill. So for Danny, there was one thing left which he wanted to admit hearing so much earlier that morning.
"And ... it's okay you know. I know you didn't mean what you said about Charlie ... and ... I, uh, ...," Danny softly shared. "I didn't mean anything I said either... and I love you, too, buddy."
"What?" Steve blurted in surprise. "What ... you didn't mean ... you what?" His mouth fell open and he blinked wildly while staring into Danny's eyes, confused by the glint of humor he saw there. Danny couldn't have heard his soft confessions the prior night, could he?
"I heard some of it and ... well ... you look tired, babe," Danny murmured absently as he smoothly changed the subject in front of his flabbergasted partner. "Were you up all night reading those damned crime scene reports? Just how long have you been up ... walking around? Killing time and driving yourself crazy? Going to gift shoppes and charging things to our room? Are you taking care of ... you know. Our ... thing?"
His voice had fallen, but he was pointing to Steve's side where the organ transplant had been done. "Take care, Steven. That's all I'm asking for." He was clearly talking too much as he gave out with a dry cough. The sparkle in the blue of his eyes was gone, replaced by a weary gray. He smiled smugly though as Steve's mouth continued to gape wide open.
"Steve?" You okay?"
"Uh, yeah," Steve stammered dumbly, his face reddening as he recalled his final words which had been shared during the wee hours of the morning. He stared, not sure what to think or say, while his partner merely squirreled his shoulders carefully into the pillows, the purple giraffe tucked just under his chin. It was a very weird image and Steve forgot what he'd been saying. He blinked again, his mind racing as he tried to catch up and remember what Danny had just said.
"No. Yes," Steve faltered awkwardly over his words. "I'm fine ... and being careful. But ... uh, we can talk later since you need to do the same. And, Danny, you know ... just ... thanks, buddy. For everything."
"Yeah, s'okay. Really," Danny murmured easily, a yawn nearly swallowing up some of his next words. "It's all okay. And I know ... I know that you'd do the same for me."
"Danny?" Steve choked out, his voice cracking before he could dare to say more.
"We're good, Steve," Danny quietly interrupted. He was desperately trying to keep his eyes open and a nurse was hovering behind his partner after being paged to the room. But there were definitely other priorities and Steve was still on edge. He was still downright terrified of so many things and Danny slowly shook his head when he heard Steve suck in a juddering breath of air because he easily guessed what he'd hear.
"You had no choice," Danny murmured softly as his eyes became heavier. "You had no choice, Steve. And sometimes ... that's okay."
The nurse puttered around him and the two quieted for a time after that. Neither really knowing what to say to the other as they awkwardly regarded each other and waited out the nurse's tasks, which included giving Danny a dose of his prescribed pain medications.
"Steve?" Danny pushed out wearily after the nurse had gone. Steve shifted his feet, the stress and physical activity reeking a bit of havoc on his own recovering system. "You need to get off your feet."
With the latest drugs taking affect, Danny's eyes were glassy as he dropped the stuffed toy to raise his hand, silently asking Steve to take it. "Go rest," Danny whispered. He raised a quizzical eyebrow again and nodded towards their joined hands before fondly looking up into Steve's face.
"We're good, you know. We are ... and all of this ... it's just what we do, isn't it? That's the bottom line, right?"
"No, not this time," Steve disagreed, both of his hands now covering Danny's one. With a gentle tug, he forced Danny to keep looking into his face. "No. I don't want this to be what we do, Danny. Not this time ... not today. Maybe not even tomorrow. It's not right, buddy. Too much has happened between us and I don't want to settle or argue, and go down this path anymore. Do you know what I mean?"
Squinting upwards, Danny rallied against the drugs he'd just been given. Steve's hands were trembling badly and it was clear that he was struggling to stay on his feet now. They'd been through too much together and were potentially at a painful crossroads. What Steve was trying to say was important and he wanted to make sure that he wasn't making light of things. So making himself focus harder, Danny nodded. He did get it and he whole-heartedly agreed.
But he wanted one thing to remain quite clear as he clutched Steve's fingers with the little strength he had left.
"Okay," Danny murmured. "But ... but, you had no choice and we are good. We're good ... and we're both going to be fine."
"Yeah, okay, Danno," Steve replied softly, able to find a genuinely relieved smile even though he was still incredibly ... scared. Scared for the two of them. He hadn't had a choice when piloting the plane or in what had happened after. But he certainly had choices now.
Resolute, Steve stood there until Danny's fingers slackened and his friend fell asleep. He stood there until his own aches became far too much to bear and a nurse shooed him back to his own room in the care of a kindly orderly.
Secretly though, Steve vowed inside to make this new bottom line matter. All the time. Every time. No matter what.
~ End ~