I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
Chapter Fifteen
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"Crap," Kono breathed out without any other appropriate word coming to mind. She'd been researching the Paquins for hours based on the smallest dregs provided personally by Mark's father. It was well past lunch and she'd purposefully ignored the chime of her cell phone to continue on her work until she called Steve back out of pure emotional necessity. Her pleasure upon hearing that Danny's latest test results were continuing down a positive path was surpassed only by what she felt when she was told the chest tube was removed.
However, she'd not shared too much of her initial findings because they were solely driven by gut instinct of knowing something was wrong. Now, she was glad that she had waited. In fact, she'd wait even longer now as small successes began to yield even more startling results. Without enough proof to satisfy herself though, she asked for more time promising to call within two hours even if her status hadn't changed. But it certainly had as she dove even deeper.
Now, this most recent chime of her phone was different to signal a text message and she deigned to look to see that Chin and Steve were leaving the hospital for the afternoon since Danny was finally in a true sound sleep. One he was desperately overdue for if Webber were to permit him release the next day.
"Good," Kono whispered to herself as her eyes flew back to her computer screen and she read an old press release. "Now we have one more thing to put to bed. Permanently. So Roger, you worked as the budget manager for the Sloan campaign. And that esteemed, one time District Representative Sloan is now a very successful State Senator Sloan. Duly voted in by the good people of Michigan."
Gritting her teeth in determination, she hunkered down to ensure she made no mistakes as her fingers flew over the keyboard. It took over an hour but soon, she had hit the tip of a veritable mother lode. Some of what she'd found would be considered here-say, while other details were completely irrelevant in the legal arena. Eventually as a particular realization slowly dawned, the ethical ramifications were overwhelming to any normal person ... especially to any normal, caring parent.
Kono paused, hissed in shock and then hit keys to back up and start over finally revealing an obituary. The biography was as short as the second Paquin child's young age and didn't explain the how or why as to the mode of passing. But it proved that Mark did have a sibling at one time.
"Oh, no. That can't be true ... that can't be right." She checked dates and other references three times, blinking in shock to realize what it all meant. Falling back in her chair, Kono stared at the simple words on the screen refusing to cry until she regained enough control to continue.
"Moving here hasn't solved a single thing. There's no starting over," Roger's words echoed endlessly on. Now even more diligent, she needed to know without a shadow of a doubt how it all happened.
"But tell me Roger, were you really on a business trip?" Kono muttered while replaying Roger's morose voice over in her head. She wondered, but perversely believed that he had been. She believed the man with the very core of her being; made more committed when she found the pictures.
"You bitch," her next comment was coarse and even surprised herself as she virtually pinned her nose to the computer screen while hitting the photo imaging print button. "You absolute ... bitch!" The photos of the Senator's holiday ball from almost five years earlier was grainy, but Kono devoured what she saw. The event pre-dated the obituary but that day's tragedy was directly related.
"She's always been home and able to mind the kids." They were almost the last things which Roger had vented with such a whimsical trust. Almost except for the word 'lucky' and Kono growled in anger. With a woman's intuition, she knew where the money had come from and why. She knew and she was in tears as she pounded away in a fury. Focused and not willing to budge an inch from her perch, Kono started a timeline of events that she hoped would finalize a package of rather damning evidence against Beth Paquin.
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Danny had finally hit his physical wall and it was blatantly obvious when he insisted on a visit to the bathroom to regain some of his personal dignity. On his return trip to the bed, his slippered feet skittered unevenly as the floor seemed to swell like a rippling wave. Losing his sense of equilibrium to a multitude of unpleasant sparkling lights, his left hand searched wildly for the wall at the same time Steve intercepted the pending collapse.
"Whoa, Danny," Steve whispered as he grabbed Danny's forearms to prop him up against the wall before his knees could buckle all the way to the tiled linoleum. "I know the nurse said it was fine, but maybe it was too soon, huh?"
Rather than answering the obvious, Danny closed his eyes trusting that Steve would keep him up until he could regain the stamina he needed to continue. "Grace is still in the hall with Chin. Let me know when you're ready and enough is enough, Danno. Your daughter doesn't need to witness your epic face-plant, buddy. You really need to get some decent shut-eye."
He was on board with the order as he peeled his eyes back open and signaled his readiness. Being able to freshen up on his own had topped off a morning of pleasant successes and the short trip was worth the current effort. But Danny knew he should sleep and now it was something he craved with every fiber of his being.
"Feels good though..." Danny tiredly grinned as his partner guided him back to first sit on the edge of the bed. He was sore and a dull ache in his chest reminded him that he was still healing, but the aggravating harshness was completely alleviated. His short demonstration of the incentive spirometer had been another reminder of his limitations as only one of the colorful balls budged in the plastic device much to his chagrin. Grace had been stunned as much as he had been by the penultimate failure. "...having that thing out feels good." Danny repeated in retort to Steve's not so tolerant sigh. He felt much better, but he had a way to go with a decent sleep at the top of the current list. "I know this may cramp your style ... but do me another favor? Please?"
"Cramp my style?" Steve made an odd noise in his throat, already indicating that whatever the favor might be, it would be far from that particular truth. "What do you need?"
"Get Grace out of here for the rest of the day," Danny gestured idly over his shoulder where the sun was streaming in through the blinds of the window. "This is no place for her to be every single minute, Steve. I'm fine and it's not necessary."
"And that favor was going to cramp my style?" Smiling, Steve dropped his hand on Danny's shoulder. "I'll just adapt, Danno. I'll make my ten-mile swim a five and take Gracie along. After, I'll see how far we can race up the Haiku staircase. I'll back off on her, but I'm sure she'll love it."
"You're a complete idiot," Danny snarked back failing at biting back a careful laugh. "Keep her whole, Steven."
"Always, Danno," Steve vowed, still laughing as he helped his friend back into bed. "Now shut up and go to sleep. We'll come back after dinner and show you all the pictures."
"Idiot," Danny snorted a soft chuckle as his eyes began to close.
"Sleep!" Steve's voice echoed in the room for a moment as another rustling sound forced Danny's eyes to blearily reopen. Holding one finger to her lips, Grace's beaming face swam into view with Chin hovering just in the background. With a quiet giggle, a kiss was laid soothingly on his cheek and before she could move, Danny had cupped his hand behind her head to do the same. Then the three were tiptoeing out as Danny's eyes closed in earnest.
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Mark was crying, though he was bravely trying to hide that fact. He had been moved to a regular private room which was a very good thing. However, his mother was standing near the foot of his bed lambasting one of his doctors while simultaneously threatening Grace's father. Plagued by headaches and blurry vision, his back was badly wrenched and cut by rock when he fell backwards into the ocean. But he wasn't worried about any of these things; he was embarrassed and even mortified by what his mother was saying.
"It was my fault," Mark caught his father's eye, his own expression as stricken as his son's. He whispered to his father who heard him yet only held his hand up to forestall more of his upset pleas. "But, it was. Dad. Please?"
"Get some rest, son." His father tried to give him a supportive smile, but failed as his wife's voice began to climb again. Wincing at the tone, Mark remembered every bit of what had happened up until he fell yet he was duly silenced. Instead, he could only run his fingers in frustration over the purple dolphin beanbag which was now damp with his own sweat. An earlier conversation regarding his promised visit to the forensics laboratory had resulted in hissed angry threats from his mother who denied the truth behind every promise one Detective Daniel Williams had made that fateful morning. Now she was mad about his care or his small toy or something he didn't care to understand because it wouldn't matter anyway. While everything seemed to be about him, nothing was really being done for him ... the way he really needed. No one even asked.
"I think your son needs to rest now Mrs. Paquin," the physician, Doctor Webber was stern and never smiled to anyone except to Mark. He had seen the lone tear escaping down the little boy's cheek and intervened again with a solemn wink as Mark sadly looked up at him. "He's very tired and needs his rest. Why don't you both take a break and grab lunch?"
Unable to smile in return as Doctor Webber firmly lodged his request, Mark dropped his eyes back to his toy, pulling on the finned tail until the seams might pop. He felt his mother walk over to stand next to him, she gently unwound his fingers from the toy but he refused to look up.
"Do you want me to go, Mark? Are you tired? Do you want to sleep?" For once, her voice was softer and even caring. In reality, Mark didn't really doubt that she cared for him; at least not entirely. They were just too broken to be right any more. So he could only sit there and stare blindly at the purple dolphin. He closed his eyes when her fingers strayed across his cheek to wipe his tears but there was nothing else. He heard her sigh and then his father was leaning closer to give him a kiss and pull the top blanket up around his waist. Glassy-eyed, Mark gazed up as his father pushed his hair off his forehead.
"Doctor Webber's right. We'll just be downstairs getting lunch," his father whispered gently. "Close your eyes and try to sleep a bit. Things will be better when you wake up and maybe we can go outside for a walk. Maybe we can get a wheelchair and sit in the sun for a bit."
He didn't want to be alone but he couldn't bear the arguing which made the uncomfortable thudding in the back of his head pick up a terrible tempo. Wishing that either his father would just stay alone with him, but knowing that wouldn't happen, Mark closed his eyes. He heard them leave and knew that they thought he was being obedient. However, he was shutting the adults completely out to visit with someone he missed more than any other person in the world. Here, he tried to come up with a plan to find a safer place ... a quieter place where he didn't have to think so very hard or be so frightened.
"Mark." The side of the bed dipped just as Mark was losing himself in the comforting dream. He heard Doctor Webber's voice once and then twice more, finally opening his eyes to stare up into the physician's kind face. "Do you feel alright? Do you need anything?"
Silently, Mark shook his head no. What he wanted, no one could help him with; of that, he was sure. The tilt to his head proved that Webber wasn't entirely convinced, but he didn't push too hard for more and Mark was relieved.
"I'm going to be here all day if you need anything or just want to talk," Webber gently prodded. He waited patiently but the boy still didn't say a single word. Tapping the purple dolphin which Mark refused to put down for any reason, the doctor insisted on one more thing because of what his mother's had so defensively said. "Remember that what happened was an accident. Everyone knows it was an accident, Mark. And don't forget that I told you Detective Williams is fine and going home tomorrow. You're going home soon, too, once you feel better."
For that, Mark's eyes lodged deeply onto Webber's, darkly worried and even scared, he looked as if he might cry again. "Is he really okay?" His tightly choked whisper was hesitant and Webber ignored the tears to send the important message home.
"Yes, he's fine and the Detective has also been asking about you," Webber lightly shared. It was the truth and as far as he would go. His goal was to pacify the boy and get him to sleep versus dwell so very sadly on whatever it was he refused to share.
"Detective," Mark whispered as if enthralled with the word. He had called Grace's father mister and now he was understanding the bigger significance of the title and he liked it. It was more than being a plain police officer and seemed much more important. Once again he found himself wanting to visit the forensics lab and learning more about the dangerous weapon he'd found. Ignoring his mother's angry voice which rattled his brain, Mark stared back at Webber asking for confirmation. "He's a real detective?"
The chuffed laugh was soft as Webber nodded. "He sure is and he's fine. So what I want you to do is remember that and get some sleep."
"Okay," glassy-eyed from tears and fatigue, Mark finally smiled. Still ever vigilant over his young patient, Webber relaxed as he idly measured the twelve-year old's face. Lingering, he occupied himself in the room with senseless tasks until he was sure Mark had truly fallen asleep. Then his own face fell into a learned darkness as he strode silently from the room to deal with the reason for Mrs. Paquin's most current fit of rage. He had a stronger need to discuss the family with the social worker he'd called in for consult.
~ to be continued ~