Chapter 47 "Family Cavalry"

A/N: (23 March 2017) Thank you for the very kind reviews. You are caring people, and I'm lucky to have you. I really deeply appreciate you! 😊

This chapter mostly moves things along, and sets up the next chapter. Angel is back, and there is some dialogue that has to happen. It was a very slow chapter to write, with little description. Hopefully this works with this chapter's content.

CBS owns Hawaii Five-0.

Chapter 47 "Family Cavalry"

(Sunday, Christmas 2016, 7 p.m.)

Steve held Danny, who continued to silently cry, until Danny's knees began to give out. Steve steered him over to the bench, then realized that Danny had retreated again. Physically, he was pulling away, shutting down. He refused to look at Steve. He looked at his own hands making one fist in his lap. Steve arranged the blanket around him.

"Stupid question, but you gonna be okay?"

Danny was very still and quiet, and his head shake was almost unnoticeable. Unlike Danny in every way. His voice was barely audible, and his words only got tinier as they built in a sad desperation. "I don't want my kids to ever know, to ever see … that. If this goes to trial and has to come out as evidence, the news will put it on TV with pixels blurring my privates … and the papers and everything else that is used for communication will relish every sordid detail. If that happens, I will die. Oh God, don't let Becca see that, or know, because she won't want to marry the victim with the pixeled privates, who can't go to the corner market without being snickered at. If this goes to trial, Steve … I can't take that. Stan really did kill me."

Danny's fists had unclenched each other and were now clutching the blanket so tight around him that his knuckles were white, and pressure was on the thumb in the cast. He was trying to bring it into the grip, and Steve had to remind him not to move his thumb. Danny let go of the blanket and his hands flopped to his lap and his head slumped forward, as energy visibly drained from him. Steve had to settle the blanket again so it would not fall from his shoulders, and kept his own good arm around him so he would not fall off the bench.

"I have a plan to keep this from trial. We can't lose you now. Do you trust me? Us?"

Steve had to wait for the answer, but finally Danny gave a depressed nod.

"Good, Danny. I promise the public will never know." Steve's phone was vibrating in his pocket, so he pulled it out.

It was Dr. Cornett, who minced no words. "What's wrong with Danny? Angel is frantic, and I called his room, no answer. I called you because I don't want to alert Becca or the kids."

Steve scrunched the phone between his shoulder and ear, so he could keep his other arm around Danny. "Doc, not good. He wanted to know what happened, all of it. Mo's video. Doc, he's PTSD-ing bad. We took a walk, we're on the patio down from his room."

"Can you get him back to his room? I'm calling in some meds and bringing in Angel. Get him back to his room. Be there in 20."

Steve pocketed his phone again, and didn't ask if Danny was up to walking back. Steve simply scooped him up, and it said a lot that the man who at any other time would have simply shot him for doing this merely tensed up, whimpered, slammed his eyes shut and clutched at Steve's shirt. He relaxed into his mattress and pillows back in his room, rolled on his side, his back to the door and therefore the rest of the world, and drew his knees up toward his chest. Semi-fetal. Not good, but Steve had seen worse PTSD before, just never from Danny. Considering what Danny had been through, he wasn't overdoing it.

Steve pulled the blanket over Danny and simply stayed by his side in the chair, and wondered if he had made a huge mistake in showing Mo's video.

Danny spoke up. He had been staring at Steve's cast, and he whispered, "I am so sorry you were hurt. I am so sorry you were hurt, and Neil and Jason and M-M-Mo were killed."

"I'll be fine, Danny. It's okay."

"It's not okay. It's not okay." That was the only thing Danny said for the rest of the wait. He scrunched a little tighter on his side, and kept repeating, "It's not okay," with his eyes closed.

Dr. Cornett arrived, with Angel in her carrier. They heard him coming because they heard Angel's unhappy meows getting nearer. The doctor released the carrier latch as soon as he entered the room and had the door closed behind him, and Angel literally leaped from the carrier to Danny's shoulder, then scooted down his chest and repositioned so that she was nose to nose with him, one paw on his clean-shaven cheek, which threw her for a moment, before she started purring with as much love as her furry little body could manage. Danny opened his eyes, saw her, began to cry again, whispering, "I'm so sorry, Angel," which also startled the white kitten with a few dilute calico markings into stopping purring and blinking three times, before she shoved her face into Danny's in what amounted to a declaration of cat adoration (and a little bit of "Don't be silly!) before she started to purr again for all she was able. She didn't seem to mind being held so tightly. She just kept purring.

Dr. Cornett frowned at the fetal position, but got to work, pulling on gloves. He took vitals, and a nurse came bearing a tray of medications in syringes. Danny was silent, allowing the insertion of a new IV, which was promptly injected with medications it was time for anyway, plus an extra kick of sedative.

Danny slipped with a sad sigh into sleep, and afterwards was turned onto his back and made comfortable, his Santa Pajamas exchanged for hospital regulation pants, gown, socks and head covering. Every effort was made to respect Danny's personal dignity, and the Santa Hat became Angel's fluffy bed. It remained by Danny's head, where Angel had taken up her position as his protector and guardian. After fitting an oxygen mask over Danny's nose and mouth, Dr. Cornett called the department responsible for such things to install immediately a sign on Danny's door saying that there was a Therapy Animal In Training within, who should not be touched or let loose without instructions. Steve noticed that Angel's name had been embroidered in black Script onto her pink harness, along with (in smaller letters) Please Do Not Touch. "Becca did that; she sews," explained Dr. Cornett when he saw Steve looking at the embroidery.

It was only after Danny was soundly asleep that Steve and the doctor talked. "He hasn't physically lost ground, not enough to worry me. But this will slow his recovery if we don't handle this right. His medications are adjusted to take his emotional state into consideration. When he awakens, we will switch the oxygen mask to a nasal cannula."

Steve was holding in his own distress. It came out as virtually one word. "Doc did I do the wrong thing?"

The doctor huffed out a breath as he hooked his just-used stethoscope around his neck. "Steve … no. You got the short straw. Danny asked. I had hoped to get another day under him before he did, but he needed to know. Like an emotional infection, if you will, he needed it cleaned out so he could start to heal. As for the sudden PTSD, that is a normal reaction when there has simply been too much emotional trauma to deal with all at once. He needs time to work through it."

Steve hesitated. He was looking down at Danny, and admitted, "I was going to kill Stan for what he did to Danny."

"I know."

"I only didn't because he died before I got started."

"I know. I heard the tape recorded in the Halawa infirmary, and I'm pretty good at math."

"Nobody else figured it out," said Steve, his voice solemn.

"Maybe I know you and Danny's closeness a little better," responded the doctor. "But when Stan suddenly needed help, we'll say that instead of 'died', you wasted no time in calling for the guard and aiding in resuscitation efforts."

"Yeah."

"You weren't thinking of the recording, were you?"

Steve shook his head. "No. He needed … help." He looked the doctor in his eyes. "Are you disappointed that I went there to kill Stan?"

Steve watched Dr. Cornett search for the words to answer him. "Are you disappointed in me that I gave you two illegal syringes of what amounts to a form of truth serum?"

"No."

"I know I should be concerned with what you were going to do, but … this is Danny." Cornett shrugged. "It's Danny. Stan put him through hell and killed several people. I could not do what you were going to, but that doesn't mean I don't understand why you … you will never know if you actually would have followed through. You may believe you would have, but you may have stopped after just scaring him badly."

Steve thought about that reply. He thought he would have gone on with his plan, but it was true that he couldn't actually know, since Stan had made his plan unnecessary. "Please don't tell Danny what I was going to do."

Cornett's voice was surprisingly gentle. "I won't. That will be up to you someday, if you decide to."

"For what it's worth, I'm glad I didn't have to kill him. But I'm not sorry he's dead."

Dr. Cornett looked again at Danny's numbers. He felt his forehead for fever, having removed his gloves. "I'm a doctor. I helped in the efforts to revive Stan Edwards. When the doctor in charge called Time of Death, I was relieved."

"Because he hurt Danny."

"Because he hurt Danny," agreed Cornett.

"Doc, how long will Danny sleep?"

"I have his meds adjusted so he'll sleep through till tomorrow afternoon. Then I need the psychologist to talk with him, and hopefully by then Angel will officially be a certified Therapy Animal, and we won't have to worry about nurses or anyone else trying to evict her. Danny needs her right now."

Steve was petting Angel, a few strokes, lightly, not wanting to wake her up. She had fallen asleep on the Santa hat, snuggled up against Danny's head, neck, and shoulder. "You haven't gotten to spend much time with your son."

Dr. Cornett smiled. "Well, he understands. He's a doctor, too."

"Why don't you head home and spend more time now. I'll stay with Danny."

"And Angel. Okay. When David and the rest of the family go to sleep, do you want me to send Hannah over? She can stay with all three of you. It probably should not be Becca right now."

Steve agreed. "There's no telling what Danny might say when he wakes up, if he's depressed. He feels like Becca won't want him if the Mo video had to be shown in trial. I promised him it would not come to that. He doesn't want her to know about that. Or the kids, of course."

Dr. Cornett nodded in understanding. "How will you keep it from going to trial?"

Steve's face hardened. "Tomorrow, bright and early, I'm paying a visit to Rachel. She and I need to talk."