I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: Not what anyone thought, right?
Chapter Sixteen
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"He can't be gone!" Beth Paquin was trembling in a rage with hospital security surrounding her. This time though, it wasn't to escort her from property grounds with a warning. This time, her son was missing and an aggressively active search had yet to locate him. Turning on the closest security guard, she slammed her knuckles roughly into his chest almost screeching her demands. "You find him! You find him ... now!"
"We're scouring the hospital and the grounds, Mrs. Paquin," the Chief of Security said as he jogged to join the group near their boy's room. Rudely taking her by the arm, he separated her from his staff member. "No one is getting in or out until we locate Mark."
"He couldn't have gone far." Webber sounded the fool as he virtually spun in place. He was also upset and confused by Mark's illicit vanishing act. "The hospital's been locked down and we have both security and staff searching every possible room."
"Maybe someone took him? Could that have happened?" At a loss, Roger Paquin vacillated between his wife's brand of anger and a gut-wrenching fear that something had truly happened to his son. "He wouldn't just leave ... why would he do that?"
Heaving in a shuddering breath, Webber shook his head. On the tip of his tongue was a scathing comment about Mark's unknown trauma; something more than the shooting accident. Instead, he simply answered the man with the simple truth. "No, no. He wasn't taken."
When the physician had first left the room, Mark had been sleeping. He'd stayed sleeping soundly for a solid three hour block of time, waking in time for dinner. Yet when the nurse went in for another standard check on the heels of the food tray having been delivered, the boy was gone from the rumpled bed.
"Find him," Beth Paquin hissed into each face. "Go and find him ... why are you just standing here?"
"I assure you that no one is just standing around," the Chief snarled back. He'd had enough of the acerbic woman from the first volatile run-in. Inhaling deeply to control his rising temper, he focused on the missing twelve-year old and the organized facts of the matter. "We have teams of two in each section of the hospital beginning with this closest area. They have orders to fan out in a search pattern until they find him."
"There's a main checkpoint," Webber nodded towards the chief asking for his affirmation. Impatient with the lack of progress and upset for his patient, his proposal was more of a demand and he ignored the belligerent set to Beth Paquin's chin. "I suggest you both go there and wait. You'll just be in the way."
Without waiting for a reply, Webber left the two to security to join the staff searching for the wayward child.
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"What's going on?" Danny asked a passing nurse as he slowly paced the length of the floor his room was on. He'd slept the entire afternoon and had just finished a light dinner before feeling up to taking his mandatory stroll. Based on the time, he could expect to see Grace and Steve within an hour's time and he wanted to get his personal chore accomplished in order to extend a proper visit. Passing a nurse's station though, he'd begun to notice the flurry of activity increasing as phones rang and orderlies or nurses alike seemed to go on a high state of alert. To him, the change was much more than subtle as teams of hospital staff seemed to ebb and flow at an intense rate. "Excuse me, but what's happening?"
"You should return to your room, sir," she replied without apology for her brusqueness which continued as she physically took his arm as if to guide him there before realizing she had no idea where he'd come from. "Actually, I have to ask that you do go back. Which room are you in?"
"420," Danny breathed quizzically as he allowed himself to be turned, but then refused to follow. He measured her anxious expression and then looked once more around at the distressed level of activity which clearly signaled some sort of emergency was in progress. An emergency that was definitely not a drill. "My name is Danny Williams, I'm a detective with Five-0 and I need to know what's going on."
"What? Five-0?" At first stunned by the change in his demeanor, the nurse tugged his arm and then paused as his words sunk in. She hesitated longer as telephones rang faintly in the background and then her own cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She made an odd sound as she gazed at his hospital gown covered with a simple white bathrobe and frowned.
"Tell me," Danny prodded. "Something is wrong and I need to know what it is; I might be able to help."
Her free hand strayed to her cell phone. She'd already missed the first call. When it started to vibrate again, she glanced down and shook her head with eyes full of a stressed worry. "Listen. Okay. We're looking for a patient who's gone missing for about twenty minutes now; a young boy."
"What?" It was Danny's turn to be stunned for a moment. Yet, he knew who it was immediately and he pulled out of the nurse's hand only to firmly take hers to still her movement. A familiar itch to know more brought ingrained instincts to the top, along with a need to be active. But then again this was different because it was personal. "Mark Paquin? Is it Mark?"
"Uh ... how did you know?" The nurse wasn't familiar with him or the reasons behind his hospitalization.
Danny only shrugged with a slight humorless smile. "I'm a detective," he declared softly. "Are we on lockdown? No one in or out?" Danny waited for the affirmative nod and smiled in approval. From that point he was done with her current usefulness and so, released her hand. The nurse backed up a step with her hand clutching her cell phone. Now for a third time, it was vibrating again and she was answering it in a rush. Taking the opportunity, Danny turned to resume his original route which was away from his room.
"Sir!" Her anxious voice resonated him but she wasn't following him as other orders pulled her elsewhere. "Sir, I don't think ..."
"It's fine." Cutting the nurse off, his parting words dismissed her as much as made clear he had no intention of returning to his bed. He was well down the hallway by then, forgetting his initial weariness as adrenalin took over to guide his feet. He was sure that the nurse never heard his last sentence for the mumble he fell into, already distracted by a new objective. "Thank you ... it's all good. I'm fine and I'll get myself back ... when I'm ready."
Danny didn't think he'd be that lucky but he needed to try. Slowly making his way even further down the corridor he watched the organized chaos taking place around him. He also tried to envision where a boy might go ... one that was afraid and perhaps very, very lost. Leaning on the hallway rail installed for patients such as him, Danny watched and waited. He was near a T-junction and above his head one stairwell was clearly marked as an emergency exit. He frowned when two orderlies jogged past the door and then moved forward with a careful purpose.
Stopping often, Danny rubbed his chest and leaned heavily on the metal banister as he took one careful step at a time. Adrenalin could do so much and he was now overdoing the prescribed regimen for his simple walk based upon his breathlessness and the sweat now beading his forehead. "It's four lousy floors," Danny complained as he diligently took one step at a time. By the time he got to the bottom, he was wheezing on each measured inhale.
"Mark?" Thinking he heard something he paused on the main floor, scowling when he was met by silence. The exit to the outside world was a standard heavy metal fire door with the requisite warnings about alarms going off should the door be opened. For an injured twelve-year old, it would be a major effort to open. Making a chuffed sound under his breath, Danny realized he'd also have issues with the heavy door based on the state of his own wounded chest and he shook his head in disgust.
Brushing the sweat off his face while leaning against the plain concrete wall, Danny closed his eyes and assumed his stairwell had already been cleared. Overheated by exertion, he was breathing erratically as he tried to protect his chest. And now, the dull ache had worsened to settle deeply in his lower back. He didn't relish the idea of returning the way he'd come but he could go up one flight and take an elevator. Struggling to stand and opting for a hunched posture, Danny resentfully eyed the first step. But as he moved forward, he heard the faint sound again. A clearer echo of a muffled sniffle ... possibly even a stifled sob followed by the same deafening silence. "Mark? It's Danny ... Grace's father."
"Go ... away," the broken voice startled Danny. It came from a hollow depth and he cocked his head in bewilderment until he realized that Mark was hiding behind the frame of the metal staircase.
"Hey, Mark." Utterly relived, Danny peered around the corner into the dark cubby. When his eyes became accustomed to the murky shadows, he saw Mark standing forlornly in his white hospital gown rending what looked like an abused purple toy between his fingers. Tears stained his cheeks and he only moved as if to hide even deeper in the shadows under the staircase. Behind its metal framework, the last flight created a useless secretive hollow. It was relatively clean but for a few scattered cigarette butts; evidence of those taking fast illicit personal breaks within hospital walls. Briefly closing his eyes, Danny inhaled carefully to limit the pull on his healing chest before resolutely walking forward. Mark wasn't going anywhere and despite body language that might argue otherwise, the boy needed a champion.
"Come here." Gently, Danny took Mark's free hand, instantly worried about the clammy nature of his skin. With his own injuries in mind, Danny slid down the rear wall just inside the shadows forcing Mark to follow until he too was sitting. But rather than leaving the trembling child on the cold concrete floor, Danny maneuvered him into his lap so that bare legs draped over his left side. While the majority of Mark's weight was on his left, the position undeniably hurt the right. However, Danny ignored the discomfort in lieu of the sobbed half-sigh as Mark cautiously relaxed into his chest so that the top of his bandaged head was just under Danny's chin.
"You're okay, buddy." Falling into a patter of soft murmurs, Danny rolled the fingers of his right hand in small circles over Mark's back. His touch was feather light as he remembered the deep tissue damage incurred by the boy's backwards tumble off the rocks. Skirting softly, Danny used his fingertips to dip back and forth as softly as possible to offer comfort.
"Take it easy and try to calm down. Everything's going to be okay." Needing to close his eyes longer to control his own breathing and beat back the threat of a solid ache, Danny didn't ask the twelve-year old any ridiculous questions about where he thought he might be going or what he thought he was going to do. The boy's flight was purely prompted by a deep emotional purge and a desire to hide. Based on his hunched posture, Mark was also in pain and struggling badly because of it.
"I ... I want ... my brother." Mark's voice cracked so badly on the last word, Danny wasn't sure he heard him correctly. His hand never stilled in its task as he provided support and waited for someone to find them. In a type of shock, Mark was shaking uncontrollably and cold sweat was leaking into Danny's chest no matter his own body heat.
"Your brother?" Danny prompted softly, finally getting first-hand evidence of another child in the Paquin family. He thought it might have been a gap in their information. Something which none of them had a real need to know and yet now it was important. Whatever Kono might have found could be substantiated; and if she'd found nothing, then Mark was providing critical information of a brother who could be older or even younger in age. But before he could ask, Mark's next shuddering comments were a complete shock and certainly not the stunning revelation he'd anticipated.
"She ... hates me," Mark whimpered as he tucked himself deeper into Danny's chest. Nearly incomprehensible, each word came out brokenly sobbed leaving Danny utterly confused. "She hates me because ... I killed ... him."
"Your mother? No, I doubt that's true." Mind racing about Beth Paquin, Danny whispered the first thing that came spontaneously from his mouth. "She doesn't hate you, Mark." Regardless of the most obscene of reasons, he also highly doubted that a child would kill another so his words sought to soothe before gently urging Mark for more information. The boy's reaction alone was full of sadness, remorse and confusion; Danny fully believed that whatever had happened wasn't entirely Mark's doing at all and it completely explained the pain amongst each of the living family members. "You need to tell me what happened, Mark. Maybe I can help. What's your brother's name?"
"Allen." The one name sent a new bout of trembling through small shoulders and Danny abandoned his vain soothing circles to cuddle the boy more warmly into his lap. Based on what he was seeing alone, whatever had happened had been another horrific accident in Mark's short life. To make it worse, the twelve-year old not only believed he'd killed his brother, but also that his mother hated him for it.
"How old was Allen when you lost him?" Danny hugged him gently still, taking him in so he'd feel safer and silently praying the cold trembling would eventually cease. Better yet, that they'd be found as the search continued within the hospital.
"He's my twin brother. He ... was eight like me ... we were eight. Now we're twelve." Bouncing between past and present, Mark couldn't seem to settle on where to place his lost brother. "He fell ... from the tree ... in the ... yard. He fell because ... I couldn't get ... down. He fell ... because ... of me."
Mentally Danny breathed a stunned exclamation. Twins. One had died leaving the other in turmoil. Now he knew some things made sense because really the family was in free fall having never recovered from the tragedy. Beth Paquin almost made sense as a desperately grieving mother. But her other son was clearly equally damaged and both parents were unable to help him. Danny's mind whirled to fill in gaps as Mark quaked in his lap, now clutching at Danny's sleeve as if he could meld his small body fully into the larger man's for comfort.
"Allen went up to help you? Then ... he slipped? Is that it?" Danny questioned, somewhat relieved when a soft affirmative made its way up to his ears. "It was an accident, Mark. How could you think you did this?"
"The branch ... it cracked ... splintered ... he fell. Allen fell." Mark's fingers were now glued into Danny's hospital gown while he tucked the bedraggled purple beanbag dolphin to his lips. Unable to see his face, Danny could guess that his eyes were closed at memories that would never let the boy rest. He'd watched his twin fall and literally die in front of him. Now one half was left of what had likely been a very happy whole.
"Mark, it's okay," Danny whispered. "Try to calm down."
"Should have been ... me." The plaintive whine was fraught with grief and Danny found himself shushing the boy in his arms as he began to weakly struggle. Hissing under his breath, Danny winced as the motion rattled his side and sent another deeper spasm into his back.
"Shh, no. Stay here with me and try not to move so much. You're okay," Danny grimaced as Mark shook his head and still tried to get up. Fingers plucked at Danny's arm as Mark tried to get free, sobbing when he failed.
"I'm not going to let you go, buddy," he whispered repetitively until Mark finally ceased moving. Unable to rock him for his own wounds, Danny could only hold him tightly until he relaxed. Attempting to contradict years of self-blame, Danny could only make inane noises and voice mild a reprimand. "Don't talk like that."
"He was ... better." Cold tremors made Mark shudder as he tried to explain; frustrated when Grace's father denied him that negative belief, too. "He ... he could ... do anything. I can't ... I can't do anything ... right."
"None of that's true, Mark." Danny shook his head in dismay. He was almost out of his league in trying to give Mark what he truly needed. He wondered if anything had ever been done for the boy. Certainly not enough had been attempted even for the parents since no one member of the family was coping.
"I don't know everything about what happened, but I really don't believe it was your fault." Danny's voice was full of conviction. Twins or not; boys or girls, siblings were oftentimes naturally competitive and sometimes even brutally so. "Why do you think Allen was better than you?"
The one-shouldered shrug lamely struggled through Mark's shivering body. "He was just ... better. He could climb better than me. Play sports better than me." Mark paused only to sob and choke out his perceptions. "I'm always afraid and wanted ... I wanted ... to do it ... he made fun of me ... I tried ... I don't like high places ... but I tried and got stuck. Then, he fell."
Danny unconsciously smirked at the final bit of truth. Teasing was part of growing up. He'd certainly done his share to antagonize his own younger brother, Matt. Evidently, Mark had enough of teasing and took the challenge of climbing the tree head on. He'd gotten stuck in its heights. Afraid to go higher or afraid to come down Mark had stalled in place. And as any other sibling would have done, Allen had gone up to help him. Perhaps he'd still even been teasing Mark or maybe he'd felt bad at the results. Allen could have even cheered Mark on, disappointed then in his brother's ultimate failure. No one but Mark would know that and at eight-years old, he might not have understood Allen at all or recall the whole truth.
"How did you get down, Mark? After Allen fell ... what happened?" He didn't want to ask the question, but suddenly Danny felt the answer would be critical to the entire terrible story. Mark was silent though for the longest time. He stay cradled in Danny's arms just breathing heavily through his mouth as tremors shook him from top to bottom. Danny waited him out, patiently and now switching his prayers to have just a few more minutes of time with the boy as he heard the faint click of a door a few floors above. As he had hoped, searchers began to investigate where they huddled together on the main level.
"He ... I ... went down ... after him." Again, that fact was both astounding and yet another reason for self-retribution because Mark did go down by himself. But he'd done it in a reverse stage of panic. "He wouldn't wake up. Allen wasn't ... moving so I called 911 ... I waited and waited. They came ... but ... I didn't know what to do. Allen ... wouldn't wake up."
Danny swiveled and cracked his jaw to the right wanting to ask where it had happened; where precisely Mark and Allen's parents were that day. According to Roger Paquin, he'd been on a business trip and that could be a genuine fact. But he held back from asking the boy. Those details were for another day; they were details meant for other adult mouths to explain and spew forth with their own duly spawned feelings of guilt.
"I think you were very brave," Danny whispered. The boy had watched his brother die quite literally. At eight years of age, he'd almost fallen himself in a panicked haste to save his other half and Danny could almost envision two tumbling bodies. Still, Mark had the wherewithal to call 911 and then he had waited by his brother's side for that same help to arrive. It begged other questions, but those could wait. The answers to those would come to the fore eventually and Danny hugged Mark to his chest with only the child as his current priority.
"No, I'm not." The whimper was buried in his chest now. "I killed him. She ... hates me."
"No one hates you, Mark. And it was an accident." Danny wound up angrily grinding his teeth while gently resorting to rubbing Mark's arm. Glancing up to eye the dark underside of the staircase he prayed silently for help to come. He could hear the muffled sounds of voices and a multitude of distant noises, yet none were really coming down this particular stairwell. "Yeah, you are very brave, Mark. As scary as it was and as terrible as the accident, you did the right thing when Allen fell." Danny wasn't certain if Mark heard him or even could digest what he was saying. There was nothing left to talk about as they sat together waiting to be found. Over the last few minutes, Mark's sobs had abated but he still shivered uncontrollably while nested under Danny's chin.
They sat there silently and in a certain odd peace. Lost in the story though, Danny had nearly forgotten about the faint click of a door opening above them. He'd missed the lighter foot-falls take each step down to where they sat together. He hadn't realized that an eaves-dropper lurked closely on that final landing, listening in stunned silence to a child's confession.
Danny only looked up when he felt the eyes boring through him. Surprised once more when it wasn't the help he anticipated because Beth Paquin stood above them, with both hands covering her mouth and tears streaming down her face.
~ to be continued ~