Realisation.
Danny had hesitated and Mary had known, the sudden realisation sending her stumbling into the bank of cupboards lining the kitchen wall and she'd slide to the floor pressing the heel of her hand against her mouth to title the sound of her heart breaking in two. He'd stayed on the line and let her cry, listening silently as she screamed and pleaded with him, begged him to tell her that it wasn't true, that the whole thing was just a sick joke.
Two and half thousand miles away, Danny had huffed quietly and choked back tears as he turned to scrub at his own aching eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.
'I'm so sorry, Mary.'
Steve had been the one to tell her when their father had died and his phone call had unwittingly triggered a tidal wave of emotions. Anger. Grief. Jealousy. Regret. All of them had been tied up in a neat little ball that slowly tore her apart. She'd been angry, secretly jealous of her brother's continued relationship with the man who'd abandoned her and sent her away to the mainland to live with his sister. She'd hated him for it.
Most of all she'd felt regret; She regretted not making more of and effort to repair their damaged relationship, that the last time she spoke to her father was the last time she saw him alive. She'd made Steve promise that the same thing wouldn't happen to them.
She spends the six hour flight from LAX spiralling between anger and sorrow and bitter self-condemnation. She's angry at Steve for doing this to her, for breaking his promise and shouldering Danny with the responsibility of being the one to break the news to his partner's only living relative.
Danny is quiet when he greets her with a hug. The silence and absence of hand gestures only drives home the fact that she's hear because her brother is gone. Danny doesn't ask, just takes her tatty backpack from her hand and swings it up over his shoulder as he moves to guide her through the crowds of tourists. The heat is almost suffocating when she steps out into the midday sun and she pauses with one hand on the passenger door of the Camaro to look out overt he sprawling hills towards the beach and the crystal clear ocean just beyond it. She'd forgotten just how perfect it was.
Danny takes her home, back to the house where she and Steve grew up and where her father and her brother both died, and it saddens her to stand out on the lanai knowing that her Steve, always so focussed and loyal and determined to follow in their father's footsteps, could never do the same. It just didn't seem fair. She takes the beer Danny holds out to her and clutches the bottle close to her chest as she gazes out at the water beyond the small stretch of private beach, tries to gather the strength to pose the question she's been asking herself on repeat since she got the news.
"What happened to him, Danny?"
The thing is, she's not really sure she wants to know.
Steve had looked tired under the fluorescent lighting, his movements sluggish when the nurse pressed him back against the paper-covered mattress and he's felt his concern kick up a notch, the winding strands in his stomach knotting and twisting into a solid ball the size of his fist. The left side of his partner's chest had been a mass of bruising; Mottled hues of blue and purple molded themselves around the soft contours of his ribs and crept downwards, curving over the vee of his hipbone before slipping under the waistband of his pants.
The doctor had run his hands over the discoloured flesh, pressing the tips of his fingers into the tender skin arching over the sweeping curve of Steve's ribcage before pulling the stethoscope from the back of his neck. They'd said that the ribs were 'probably' broken and turned their attention to the expanse of hot swollen skin and the shallow rasping breaths that send fiery bolts of pain radiating up the sides of Steve's neck and across his back. The IV cocktail of painkillers and NSAIDs had left his partner woozy and bleary-eyed, and Danny had slipped through the gap in the curtains when Steve had blinked at him confusedly and stayed awake just long enough to pull rank, sending him back to the office.
Steve had looked washed out against the dark fabric of his t-shirt when Danny had returned four hours later. His dress shoes had squeaked against the blue-green linoleum floor as he followed the orderly along the brightly lit corridor towards the small observation unit at the back of the ER, and he'd felt a wave of relief wash over him when he walked onto the ward to find his partner already dressed and sitting with his legs over the side of the bed as he waited for the nurse to fill his prescription and bring his discharge papers. He'd hovered awkwardly near Steve's elbow as they walked to the car; Steve had curled forwards, wrapping his arm around his side as he started to inch his way towards the exit and he had followed, tucking the brown envelope containing Steve's meds and care instruction under his arm as he pushed through the swinging door into the waiting room and held it open for his partner.
Steve had been quiet during the 20 minute drive from Queens and Danny had glanced across at the passenger, the glow from the red traffic light drawing his attention to the dark circles under his partner's eyes and the tension in his jaw. He'd gone on ahead, opening the door with his key while Steve shuffled gingerly behind him and he'd nudged his partner towards the stairs, his hand coming up to rest on Steve's lower back when he paused halfway up to catch him breath. The cotton beneath his palm had been damp with sweat.
Upstairs, he had taken the pillows from Mary Ann's room and stacked them two-deep against Steve's wrought-iron headboard, reaching across to pull the sheet up over his partner's legs once he'd finally found a comfortable position. Steve hadn't argued when he's pressed the pills into his hand and he'd hesitated, feeling torn between going home and spending the night on his partner's couch. Steve put an end to his dilemma by kicking him out.