CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A TWENTY-SIX MILE MARATHON
MCGARRETT'S HOUSE - 5329 KALANIANAOLE HWY - O'AHU
The following morning around six AM, Steve found Eddie back in his dog bed. Either Danny had kicked him out or Eddie had made that decision for himself. Both could be possible as the bedroom door was still slightly open. There was no mumbling, talking, or pacing. The house sounded quiet, which Steve took as a good sign. Danny was fast asleep. And willing to keep it that way, Steve put on his running shoes and took Eddie out for a morning run.
Returning an hour later, McGarrett let Eddie off his leash. He opened the front door and Eddie spurted inside. Straight for his bowl of water, Steve assumed. He was right. Steve trailed after Eddie to the kitchen. On his way, Steve looked satisfied at the guest bedroom door,— it was still ajar and the room dark. Steve helped himself to a glass of water too. Dehydrated from his run, Steve drained the water in one sitting and put the glass away in the sink.
Eddie barked once, wagged his tale, and watched Steve with hopeful eyes. Steve understood the request. "All right. Go ahead, Eddie. Go wake up Danno. I'm gonna start breakfast," He said and Eddie wandered out of the kitchen.
Steve took eggs together with a butter stick from the refrigerator. He grabbed a frying pan out of the dish rack on the counter and placed it on the stovetop. Turned it on and melted a small piece of butter in the egg pan. Eddie returned to the kitchen and started pacing around and circling the kitchen island.
"What's wrong?" Steve asked, noticing the dog's nervous behavior as he stirred the butter around the pan. "Is Danno not giving you attention?" he joked and Eddie let out a bark in response. Steve watched him leave the kitchen again. He shrugged and cracked open a few eggs into the pan. Then stirred the eggs until they began to set. Steve turned the heat low and checked in on his partner's whereabouts. He knocked on the wooden bedroom door and said, "Hey, Danny? You up?" Steve waited for an answer of any kind, a mumble or some movement. It stayed silent. With a deep frown, Steve said questioning, "Danny?" and pushed the door open.
Danny wasn't in there. The bed was empty and unmade.
Steve turned and with a quickening heartbeat, he went and looked around the house. To no avail. There was no sign of Danny anywhere. Not in the living or dining room. The same went for the bathroom. Steve even checked upstairs.
Clueless, Steve went back to the kitchen and turned off the stove before the eggs would burn. Then he turned and looked through the window to his backyard. Far in the distance and with the sun blooming on the horizon, Steve spotted his partner sitting in one of the deck chairs. He let out a sigh of relief, and went out the back door and down to the beach.
Danny was looking out at the water, the cane by his side.
Steve closed in from behind and called out, "Hey. Yo, what are you doing out here?"
Danny barely acknowledged Steve's presence. Just a quick look over his shoulder before leaning his head against the back of the chair again. Steve walked around and looked down at Danny. Who's eyes squinted against the sunlight and had his lips stretched in a grimace. The blanket from the bedroom was wrapped around him, hanging on his shoulders.
Puzzled about the situation, Steve looked down at his friend. "What's going on?"
"I couldn't sleep," Danny said.
"Okay," Steve said, realizing Danny was sitting here longer than Steve anticipated. "Why didn't you turn on the tv then?" he suggested and signaled at the waves rolling onto the beach, "You know, to block out the sound of the ocean?"
"It's actually mind-numbing listening to the waves crashing over and over," Danny's left hand sneaked out from underneath the blanket as he imitated the rolling waves. His right arm showed no movement. "It's kinda relaxing."
"I'm sorry," McGarrett snorted. "What happened with you?" he teased. "Couple years ago you said it was Hawaiian water torture."
"That's right," Danny admitted and mustered a smile. "But you have to find a way to appreciate it, if you're forced to live with someone that has thirty-five house rules and one of them is no tv after midnight."
A smile spread across Steve's face, as he rolled his eyes. "That be funny if you actually could name all thirty-five of 'em, but you can't, because there aren't that many," Danny didn't bite back at the comment and after a beat, Steve joined and took a seat in the chair beside him. "Did it work?" He asked.
Danny looked aside at Steve. "Did what work?"
Steve pointed at the sea. "The waves? Did you catch some sleep?"
"No, not really." Danny flicked his gaze back ahead. He repositioned in the chair, straightened his back, and grimaced.
Steve could see from his awkward posture something was causing him pain. He guessed the source. "Yeah, well these chairs weren't made for sleeping."
"Bed's not very ideal at the moment either," Danny muttered.
Steve carried on looking at Danny. "Anything you wanna talk about?"
"Not much to talk about," Danny avowed. "Hurts when I'm on my right side. Hurts when I'm on my left side. Back's not any better."
It made sense to Steve. Broken ribs and a healing surgical incision were painful and uncomfortable. "I get it," Steve said as he could tell from experience. "But you got pills for that, right? To take the edge off the pain?" He had made sure that Danny took his medication, so clearly the discomfort couldn't be all that was keeping him awake.
"Mm-hmm," Danny mumbled.
"Then why can't you sleep?"
"Don't know," Danny shrugged his left shoulder. "Probably insomnia."
"Right," Steve nodded to himself as he remembered Danny suffered from insomnia ever since Marco Reyes killed Danny's brother and they went to Colombia to deal with it.
A traumatic event. Just like everything that happened last week.
Steve eyed his friend again. With the soft morning sunlight on his face, Danny still looked awful and exhausted, and brutally beaten. Although most of the swelling had gone down in his face, there was still a dark bruise clouding around his right eye. Some scabbed blood too on his cracked lip and eyebrow. And his right arm had shown barely to no movement during this conversation. Steve had noticed and that raised some concern as Danny usually loved communicating using both his hands.
Steve leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "Are you going to tell me?"
Danny flicked a side eye glance at Steve. "Tell you what?"
"What's going on in that head of yours?"
"Besides a headache, not much." Danny quipped, averting the situation.
Steve stayed quiet for some time, letting the deflecting answer fade away. Then he let out a deep breath.
"All right. Look, doctor K told me what Kim and his men did to you, or what he thought they did based— on your injuries,— and that's not something, Danny."
"He told you? He's not allowed,—" Danny stopped talking, he seemed too dispirited.
Steve watched the truth and hurt and betrayal register on Danny's face.
"Listen, all I'm trying to say is that it's understandable if you can't sleep because you keep reliving certain things or have nightmares about it, or whatever it is that's keeping you up," he said with compassion. "You know, sometimes memories are the worst form of torture and, I don't know— maybe you should talk with our therapist?"
In turn, Danny sighed and stared back at the ocean. "I don't need to talk with our therapist, because I'm not having nightmares. That's not why I can't sleep," before Steve could say anything, Danny looked at Steve and breathed out, "I—I'm fine." Then he put up a smile, but Steve could see the pain in his partner's eyes, making him want to hug Danny.
"I know you're not fine," Steve said. "I mean it's an old house, Danny. I can hear you, you know."
"What's this? An intervention?" Danny shot him a daggered stare. "I'm surprised you didn't invite more people over."
Steve glared back at Danny, not intimidated at all. Then he said calmly. "I'm not the bad guy here, Danny. I'm just looking out for you."
"I know," Danny sighed, and added utterly sincere. "I'm sorry."
"You hungry?" Steve replied, deliberately not making a big deal out of this argument.
Danny shrugged with his left shoulder. "I could eat."
"Okay, let's get inside," Steve stood up. "I'll make you eggs."
"Scrambled? Little burned?" Danny questioned.
Frowning, Steve looked down at Danny. "You want me to cremate your eggs?"
"No, not cremate," Danny huffed and rolled his eyes. "Just a little burned on the outside, fluffy on the inside."
"That's disgusting," Steve remarked, but said, "I'll make you whatever you want, buddy," as he was pleased with the thought of Danny having an appetite. "Come on, get up."
Danny took hold of the cane, paused, and then levered himself upright. His face twisted in pain and had grown a shade paler as he stoop up with an effort like it was the first time he had moved in hours. The blanket fell off his shoulders, and back on the chair.
Steve got hold of it. "I'll take this."
Dealing with the evident pain Danny stayed muted. Steve watched Danny closely as he stood unsteadily, but after a few breaths, Danny started walking towards the house. Stiffly and limping. Using his cane as best he could on the uneven, sandy ground.
Steve tagged after Danny, while he carried on keeping an eye on Danny's worrisome movements. Then he looked from the beach back to the house and genuinely wondered. "How'd you even make it down here?"
By the time they made it back to the house, Danny was panting. Steve opened the door and let Danny step in first. Steve closed the door behind him and followed Danny to the living room. Danny hobbled his way to the brown leather chair and dropped himself into it. He seemed to disappear in its depth. Although concerned by the sight of his friend, Steve put up a satisfying smile anyway and went to the kitchen.
Ten minutes later, the smell of brewing coffee drifted in and filled the air. Steve poured the coffee into his favorite black mugs. Added some milk to one of the cups and stirred it with a spoon. With one cup of coffee in one hand and a plate of scrambled eggs with bacon in the other Steve stepped into the living room. Danny had his eyes closed and seemed sound asleep as the TV blasted infomercials.
"Really?" Steve remarked as he looked back and forth between the TV and the food he was carrying. "Now you're listening to someone selling you something you don't need?"
Steve sighed inwardly and turned back to the kitchen. He emptied the plate into Eddie's bowl. Eddie watched him, ears up, head slightly cocked. "All right, buddy. Dig in." He said and Eddie devoured the scrambled and partially burned eggs.
MCGARRETT'S HOUSE - 5329 KALANIANAOLE HWY - O'AHU
Later that day, during the night, a bulky figure tackled Danny the very moment he had dragged himself off the floor. His head got knocked hard against the concrete. His vision blurred, and his eyes stung with blood that was trickling down his brows. He felt dizzy. 'You deserve to die,' a loud voice shouted into his ringing ears. Curious about the voice Danny levered himself upright. He looked right at the man-mountain, smiling, watching Danny shape up again. Just as he straightened a right hook landed in the center of Danny's chest. His lungs contracted with such force that he was afraid they would fold into themselves.
He tried to take a breath, but instead, sharp pain erupted in his chest. Confused, Danny tried again, and this time he couldn't hold back the grunt that accompanied the searing pain in his chest. His lungs barely took in any oxygen. The blows to his body kept coming, over and over again, battering all life out of him. There was a final nerve-ripping sensation in his shoulder and he woke up and emerged from the nightmare, gasping and with his heart pounding in his chest.
Pain radiated the length of his arm. Danny clutched his right shoulder while struggling for air. His breath was rattling in his lungs, and his shoulder seized up with pain that felt electric. Telling him that the burning sensation wasn't only due to his dreams. Slowly, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He suppressed the urge to cough, not wanting to wake Steve. Being it an old house and all. Instead, Danny waited for the urge and pain to pass. Danny felt chilled to the bone by his sweat-drenched body. His shirt stuck to the skin between his shoulder blades. He shivered in the cold night, snatched the blanket off the bed, and pulled it around his heaving shoulders. Then he staggered to the living room with the use of the cane.
By the time he made it to the sofa, Danny was coughing his lungs out. His ribs protested against the movement by sending flares of pain with each cough. He hadn't felt this bad in days. He leaned forward, perching his elbows on his knees. It eased his labored breathing, and slowly he began to feel better.
A glass clunked against the coffee table and jerked him out of his exhausted haze.
"Here. Are you all right?" Steve asked and squatted down, clasping Danny's right shoulder to look him in the eye.
Danny winced and cradled his right arm against his body.
"Right. Sorry," Steve mumbled and pulled his hand away.
"It's fine," Danny pressed through his clenched jaw.
"Have some water, okay. I'll grab something for the pain." Steve straightened and went into the kitchen to fetch presumably painkillers.
After a beat Steve returned with a bottle of ibuprofen. "I couldn't find the painkillers the doctor prescribed."
"Not taking those anyways," Danny stated and waved at the bottle of pills Steve was holding. "Ibuprofen does the trick too, so don't worry."
"You should. Recovery is no joke, Danny." Steve said and handed Danny the bottle.
Danny felt Steve's gaze on him as he with trembling hands fumbled to open it. The cap popped open and the pills spilled out onto the table. Danny bent forward, took two, scooped them up wordlessly, and swallowed them down with water.
"Feeling cold?" Steve quested and Danny realized why. He was still shivering. "You don't have a fever or something, right?" Steve's tone was ripe with worriment. The back of his hand met Danny's clammy forehead. "Good. You're not burning up." He said, sounding content with his findings.
"M' just tired I guess." Danny tried, willing to comfort his worrying partner.
"Okay," Steve gave a nod, took hold of the remote, and flicked on the TV. "Try and get some sleep then." He said and went upstairs.
MCGARRETT'S HOUSE - 5329 KALANIANAOLE HWY - O'AHU
In the morning, around eight, Steve sat behind the desk in his dining room. Reading, on his tablet, the emails and HPD briefings from the last few days. He scrolled down the document with one hand and with the other he lifted his black mug and took a sip of fresh-made coffee. It was his third cup of coffee and he still felt tired. Last night it wasn't just Danny who had trouble sleeping but Steve too. He had twisted and turned restlessly throughout the night and when he finally had drifted off, the sounds of Danny stumbling through the house had woken him up. After the quick trip downstairs to check in on his partner, the TV blasting had kept Steve up till the crack of dawn.
Several times he had tempted to go back downstairs to kill the noise that kept him awake, but Steve had withheld himself for the greater good, knowing his partner would get the much-needed sleep this way. Eventually, Steve did go downstairs, finding Danny asleep on the couch, one arm and leg dangling down the sofa. His mouth slightly open with even and heavy breaths. Steve went out for a swim and when he returned the TV was off and Danny was no longer on the couch. Steve could hear the water running from the shower downstairs and went upstairs to do the same. Ten minutes later he was back downstairs and poured himself the first cup of coffee.
Halfway through Steve's third mug, Danny showed up and closed the bedroom door behind him.
"Good morning," Steve said from behind the desk.
"Mornin'," Danny muttered back.
Looking up from a few feet away, Steve called out with devilish delight. "That's an interesting choice of clothes," he noted as Danny wore a baby blue-white striped button-up shirt on top of light grey sweat shorts. "What's going on there?"
"B- me," Danny hollered back with a serious I-don't-give-a-crap attitude and limped out of Steve's sight to the kitchen.
"C'mon, you usually have great style, but I'm not so sure about this combination," Steve shouted, teasing.
After a beat, Danny walked with difficulty into the dining room. Tall glass of water and a white paper bag containing medications in his right hand. Using the cane with his left hand. "Why don't you try putting on a T-shirt with a surgical incision that's wider than most rulers and some broken ribs, huh?" He said daringly, not allowing any room for Steve to argue about it.
Steve leaned back in his desk chair. "Believe it or not, but I never have broken four ribs at the same time, so I wouldn't know."
Danny clunked the glass of water on the round dining table. "I'm sure I can find someone willing to break them."
Steve's eyebrows went up. "Well, someone's in a mood."
"This was just easier, okay?" Danny said and flinched as he lowered himself down on the nearest chair. He took out three orange pill bottles and two blister packs from the white paper bag. Popped out one pill each. Forced down the handful of tablets and pills and swallowed them with a gulp of water.
It worried Steve to see his partner like this. Grumpy and hurting and needing that many pills.
"You know that I could've helped you, right? If you had asked."
"What are you working on?"
"Just reading up on the past days," Steve drained his mug. "I don't like leaving you by yourself, but I have to go to the office, just for a couple of hours or so."
"That's fine. You don't have to stay home for me," Danny said, sounding like he wouldn't mind the alone time, but he almost instantly added. "I can come with, you know."
"I suppose you could," Steve considered. "But no. You're staying right here."
"I mean, might not be able to run a marathon or chase any criminals, but there's nothing wrong with my head." Danny pleaded his case.
"Debatable, and as a side note, even in good condition you wouldn't be able to complete a twenty-six mile marathon, because you hate running," Steve joked and turned serious. "But you heard the doctors, no? You're recovering from trauma surgery. That's two to three months. And while you're recovering you're not supposed to be working."
"Really?" Danny's eyebrows went up. "You are gonna lecture me about getting back to work? According to your own words, doctors make suggestions, do they not?"
Steve pointed at the comfortable chair in the living room. "You're gonna sit in that chair. Elevate your knee. Ice it and go to PT. That's all you'll be doing today," he commanded. "Understood?" He double-checked but before Danny could argue against it, Steve's cell phone rang. He instantly answered and put the device to his ear. "What is it, Jerry?"
"I think you both should come to the office. The two of you wanna see this."
Steve sighed. "All right, we'll be there in ten."
Danny jabbed him in his own chest. "We? As in you and me?"
Steve glanced annoyed at Danny. "You might wanna get changed first."
"No, let's go," Danny said enthusiastically and pushed himself upright.
— TBC / HAWAIIFIVE0 —
A/N: My apologies for going awol. I most certainly am not planning on dropping this story. Just trying to plot and figure out all the twist and turns I want this story to have. I've given this story my all and I will continue to do so until its very last word. Bear with me as while I do.
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Next chapter will be uploaded shortly as it's long due.
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