Chapter Text
”Oh, god, Steve… so tight, I can’t—“ Danny choked out, lowering his head to Steve’s shoulder, panting harshly against the other man’s skin.
“So close, Danno, so close,” Steve gasped from beneath him, arching and wrapping his legs tighter around Danny’s hips. They rocked against each other for a few more minutes before Steve’s entire body tensed up, his eyes screwing shut as his jaw clenched. Danny felt the hot, wet gush against his belly as he continued to rock in and out of Steve, bottom lip clamped between his teeth at the increased friction. He didn’t last much longer, groaning against Steve’s shoulder as he came.
The only sounds then were harsh breathing, the slip-slide of sweat slicked bodies, and Steve’s breathy gasps as Danny used his mouth to clean up the mess he’d made of Steve’s ass. Afterward, they lay together, Steve curled around Danny’s side, idly trailing his fingers through the hair on Danny’s chest.
“This was such a good idea,” he remarked sleepily, tugging the sheet up tighter around them.
“Which idea might that be?” Danny asked, cracking an eye open.
“The one where I asked you to move in and you actually said yes.”
Danny huffed, twisting a bit so he and Steve were facing each other. “You’re only so enamored with the idea because you can get laid more often.”
“Well, yeah,” Steve grinned, giggling when one of Danny’s hands came up to tickle the crease of his neck.
They stared at each other for a moment or two before Danny scooted forward and pressed a sweet, soft kiss to Steve’s lips. “G’night,” he murmured, burrowing down into the pillows.
“Yeah,” Steve replied with a yawn. “Love you.”
~*~
“I’m gonna kill him… if he isn’t dead already, I am going to fucking kill him,” Danny muttered to himself as he bobbed and weaved his way through traffic. It’d been almost a month since Steve had – seemingly randomly in Danny’s eyes – left a ‘Dear Danno’ letter on his desk. A month of unanswered phone calls, voice mails, and unanswered texts. Danny had been worrying himself sick, various scenarios flying through his mind at night as he tried to sleep in Steve’s – their – bed.
And now this, after almost a month of complete nothingness, this phone-call from the hospital saying that a Lieutenant Commander Steven J McGarrett was being transferred from a hospital in Osaka, Osaka, and could he please come as soon as possible. Grinding his teeth, Danny pushed the gas pedal a little closer to the floor, lights and sirens bleating around him.
If Steve wasn’t dead already, Danny was going to kill him.
~*~
Picking up and moving on with cases and the like was strange without their leader, but they made due. Danny hated being “the boss,” despite his apparent knack for leadership. He considered Chin and Kono his peers, his equals, regardless of what all of their titles said. Having to step up and order them around made him feel awkward and out of place, even though the cousins did whatever he needed them to do, no questions asked.
Really, as brash as Danny seemed, he much preferred dual leadership to standing at the top of the pyramid. Without Steve, Danny was forced to send one of his teammates off alone, or leave someone behind at HQ so a pair could check out a lead or follow up on a suspect. It never crossed his mind that Steve wouldn’t be back, that they might need to consider hiring a fourth member to pick up the slack.
Kono and Chin were very sympathetic about the whole thing, though Danny knew they were itching to know more. He’d told them what the letter had said, verbatim, which was exactly the problem: Steve had never been all that wordy when he was speaking, it came as no shock to anyone that his letter just barely made a whole page. He stated simply what his intentions were, but not where he was going, or whether or not he would reach out to them. Danny had done his best to hide the hurt this had caused him, but he knew the cousins noticed.
It hurt that Steve thought a simple one-page explanation was enough, and it made Danny angry that he hadn’t seen the signs that Steve was preparing to abandon them for his Shelburne mission. They slept in the same bed, showered together, did everything together, and yet Steve had acted like nothing was out of place, like everything was as it had always been.
Yeah, it hurt to know that Steve apparently didn’t think enough of Danny to even leave him a private letter, somewhere in the house where Danny would find it. It hurt a lot.
~*~
He entered the emergency room just shy of a run, flashing his badge and looking for whoever had called him. A young nurse, her pretty features creased with worry, hurried up to him and grabbed his arm.
“Detective Williams? Commander McGarrett arrived about ten minutes ago, we’re moving him up to Intensive Care right now.”
“Intensive Care? What’s wrong with him?” Danny barked, hurrying along beside the nurse as they made their way onto an elevator.
Frowning and squeezing herself into the corner, the nurse looked at her feet. Danny sighed, smoothing his hair and taking a few deep breathes. “Look, I’m sorry, ok? But you gotta understand: this is the first time I’ve heard hide or hair of him in weeks, and you’re telling me he’s in ICU? It’s a bit much.”
“The doctors will be assessing him as soon as he arrives in the ICU; preliminary observations show severe head trauma, cuts, scrapes, and bruises. Until he can have a CAT scan and an MRI, we won’t know much else.”
Sourness swelled in Danny’s stomach, and he did all he could to keep himself from puking as they hurried down the hall after exiting the elevator. Glancing to the left and right, he caught glimpses of severely injured people, each one worse than the last. Biting his tongue, he hoped Steve wasn’t down so far he couldn’t get back up again.
Coming around a corner, the nurse directed Danny to a waiting area, as there was still a team of doctors and nurses trying to sort Steve out. He barely heard her, as all of Danny’s attention was currently focused on the older man sitting with his head bowed, not ten feet from where Danny stood.
“Joe.”
The man lifted his head, and Danny couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath; someone had gotten their hands on Joe, it seemed, and had given him a decent pounding. One of his eyes was almost entirely swollen shut, and one hand was splinted and wrapped. The way he sat, Danny was pretty sure there were some cracked ribs hiding beneath his shirt.
“Detective.”
“What. The hell. Happened.” Danny’s hands were balled into fists at his sides, every muscle in his body tensed and ready for a fight. Rage was swelling within him, because the reason for Steve’s current condition? Was this man, sitting with his back slouched and a frown creasing his face.
“There’s a lot I can’t tell you, son, but I will tell you this: Steve was coming to look for me, yeah, but he wasn’t the only one. The Yakuza got wind of the fact that I was in town, and while they weren’t happy with me, they were pretty much livid with Steve.”
“He got jumped by the Yakuza?”
“Him and me both. I’m old, I’m not as fast or as strong as I used to be; Steve knew that, so he tried to keep their attention focused on himself. I don’t… I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone get beaten so badly. I’m sorry, Danny.”
“Sorry… oh, yeah, you better fucking be sorry, because if he doesn’t survive this—“
“There’s no way to know, yet; he was unconscious to begin with, but now he’s in a medically induced coma. They had to.”
The wind was knocked out of Danny then, he felt himself deflate as he flopped down into a chair next to Joe. Medically induced coma… that was never good. Rubbing his eyes, Danny remained silent when Joe attempted to converse with him, finally falling quiet himself. Until someone came to get him so he could see Steve, there was nothing for Danny to say.
~*~
“Wait, so what exactly is wrong with him?” Kono asked, hands on her hips. Danny sighed, rubbing at his forehead. It’d been a few hours before the team of doctors had gotten Steve stabilized and settled in, and after he’d been allowed into the room, he’d had to step right back out again, it was that bad.
“Swelling in his brain, broken right leg, broken right hand, fractured ribs, broken nose… and that’s just what they can tell superficially. Until they can get a hold on the swelling in his skull, they’re gonna hold off on x-rays and all of that sort of thing. Could be more damage inside, though they don’t think so, not like internal bleeding or anything.”
“I can’t even believe this… it’s like they barely touched Joe… does that mesh with what he told you?” Chin asked, arms crossed over his chest. “Them being jumped and Steve sort of protecting him?”
“More or less… I’m guessing part of Steve’s reasoning had to do with Shelburne, and what Joe knows, and the rest was the fact that Joe is like a second father. Though in my opinion, neither constitutes allowing a gang of crazy people to beat the shit out of me instead of him.”
“Danny, c’mon, allowed? I doubt the boss allowed anyone to do anything,” Kono argued. “They probably outnumbered them. SEAL or no, one man against a group? Odds are against you from the start.”
“So, what’s our next step then? Do we try to see if we have any contacts in Osaka that can tell us the who or why? It’s your call, Danny.”
Danny regarded Chin and then Kono, feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Sighing, he shook his head. “Why bother? I mean, I want payback as much as the next guy, but let’s be realistic here: is there any real chance justice can be served? This is an organized crime unit, they’ll make it seem like it never happened. I’d rather focus on making sure Steve gets the care he needs and that the fucking Navy he loves so much pays for every dime of that care.”
The cousins each wrapped Danny in a hug before promising to go back to HQ to follow up on current cases and paperwork. Danny tells them not to work too hard before slipping back into Steve’s room.
The man laying in the bed does not at all mesh with the image in Danny’s minds’ eye. His Steve is vivacious, strong, in constant motion. This Steve lays motionless, surrounded by machines and monitors, all sorts of lines and IVs plugged in to him. He’s on a respirator because he isn’t able to breath for himself yet, there’s a tube down his throat providing him with nutrition; Danny’s pretty sure there are catheters and bags plugged in to his nether regions, as well. It’s a sad sight, a pitiful sight, and it only makes Danny angrier.
“This never should’ve happened,” he mutters as he takes a seat beside Steve’s bed. “It never would’ve happened if you’d just talked to me, let me in on what was going on with you. We’re partners, we’re a team, you know we would’ve helped you in whatever way we could. No offense, babe, but Joe White? Totally not worth all this aggravation. The man barely suffered a black eye, he got off pretty easy in comparison. I don’t even know where he is now, and to tell you the truth, I don’t care. If I never see Joe White again, it’ll be too soon.”
Knowing Steve can’t hear him doesn’t stem the flow of words; it’s more for Danny’s benefit, anyway, a sort of catharsis for all the mental anguish Steve’s absence has caused him. They hadn’t been living together very long when Steve left, and now in face of what could be life-altering injuries, Danny is left to wonder if he should mourn “what might have been.”
~*~
As Steve’s body slowly begins to heal, the doctors discuss waking him from his coma. His bones are beginning to knit back together, and the swelling in his brain has receded. The doctors remind Danny that the likelihood that Steve has some sort of brain damage is probably high, though they won’t know anything until he wakes up and they can assess him cognitively.
The Navy sends a correspondent bi-weekly to check in on Steve’s progress, and Danny resists the urge to punch the smarmy kid in the face. Because that’s what he is, for all intents and purposes: a kid, barely out of his teens, green as grass. He talks nonsense and jargon about Steve’s pension, and a trust that had been set up for him by McGarrett Sr and Joe White when they’d learned of Steve’s intentions. Danny tells the kid, as politely as he can, that he won’t be making any arrangements on Steve’s behalf until he knows precisely what sort of care he will need. He does, however, tell the kid he expects the Navy to pay for everything, and if they have a problem with that, they can kindly consult Steve’s resume.
The governor grants Danny a sort of leave, allowing him to do half days at HQ and spend the rest with Steve. Kono and Chin assist HPD when and where they can, but with half the team out of commission, they aren’t assigned any big cases.
For Danny, the only real break from the tedium and despondency are the phone calls and weekends with Grace. She asks almost constantly when she can come to the hospital to see her Uncle Steve, and Danny has to tell her, time and again, that she can see him when he’s better.
“But when will he be better?” she asks. “He’s been there forever.”
“I don’t know Monkey. The doctors had to keep him asleep, but I think soon they’re gonna start waking him up. It’ll take a little bit, but I think after he’s awake and he’s had a chance to sort of regroup, maybe I can bring you up to visit.”
Grace accepts this, though she doesn’t like it. Danny can’t blame her, he doesn’t like it either.
~*~
“Detective Williams? Detective Williams!”
Groaning, Danny flapped a hand in the general direction of the voice and tries to burrow back down into sleep. The source of the voice gives an exasperated huff before poking Danny in the shoulder – hard – and shouting in his ear.
“Detective Williams, Commander McGarrett is awake, now do you want to see him or not!”
Yelping, Danny found himself falling to the floor in a heap, tangled in a scratchy, thin blanket. Disoriented, he blinked up at the source of the voice – a matronly nurse – and glanced around. Yes, he’d gone to take a nap in the nurses’ quarters, because he’d been in danger of falling out of his chair.
“Awake, did you say awake?” Danny asked, hurrying to disentangle himself from the blanket. “I thought the doctor said it would take a few hours.”
“It has been a few hours,” the nurse replied, already making her way to the door. “Now hurry up, before the team swoops in to poke and prod him.”
Scrambling, Danny finally finds his feet and hurries after the nurse, hands clenching and unclenching nervously. He has no idea what sort of state Steve will be in, or whether the other man is even aware of what happened.
Halting just outside the door to Steve’s room, the nurse held up a hand. “Now listen: I know you’ve been waiting for this moment with baited breath, but the man just woke up from being in a coma for weeks at a time. He’s going to be disoriented, confused, he might not recognize you. Keep your voice quiet, try to exude an air of calm.”
Danny nodded, focused solely on getting into the room. He slowly pushed the door open, peering around it to glance at the bed. Steve was, in fact, awake, but looking no better for it. His skin had the ashy pallor of one who hasn’t seen natural sunlight in a while, his face was a variety of colors thanks in part to healing bruises, and his right limbs were still mostly encased in casts. His left foot twitched beneath the blanket periodically, but Danny didn’t pay much attention to that, focusing instead on making sure Steve could see him from where he was propped up in the bed.
“Hey babe,” he called, moving slowly and quietly across the room, taking the chair beside the bed. “It’s so good to see you with your eyes open.”
Steve doesn’t reply, just continues to stare vacantly at the space in front of him. Danny leans forward and notes that Steve’s pupils are dilated fairly large, even though the room is brightly lit. Unsure of how to proceed, Danny starts talking, recounting everything that had been going on while Steve was unconscious.
After a point, Steve slowly turns his head in Danny’s direction, like he was following the sound of the other man’s voice. Danny keeps talking, trying to keep the volume in check, though it’s hard with his excitement. Eventually, Steve’s team of doctors, nurses, and specialists come storming in and usher Danny out. They tell him that, now that Steve is awake, they can do a few full-brain scans and see where the damage is, and what areas it may be affecting. They ask if Steve has spoken, or acknowledged Danny’s presence, and he tells them no. They nod, make notes, and shut the door in Danny’s face. Grumbling, he takes that as his cue to go, and decides that perhaps he’d be better served by a night spent at home, in a real bed.
~*~
The doctors conducted scan after scan, and administered all sorts of tests in attempts to see where and how Steve was damaged. Even after he was able to acknowledge the presence of other people in his room, he made no moves to speak. One doctor suggested that perhaps the trauma had caused aphasia, though another mentioned that the part of the brain that deals with speech had been damaged, and therefore some work would need to be done to see if he could regain the ability.
Physical and occupational therapists are brought into assess Steve’s body; though the breaks in his right limbs have healed, it seems he has more trouble moving and controlling the left limbs. It is noted that the right side of the brain did have a lot of swelling, and the right side controls the left side of the body. The coordination required to feed himself is lacking, as are various other motor functions. A specialist notes that with some rehab, those things can be brought back. Another specialist comments that he hopes that is the case, as there is just something not right about having to spoon-feed and then change the diaper of a thirty-five year old man.
Danny is asked by the Navy to pick a rehab facility, which they will pay for. The one he decides on will be able to assist Steve in regaining his faculties, and allow him to eventually return to Danny and the team.
There is no doubt in Danny’s mind that Steve will eventually come back to himself, though the doctors try to explain there is a great chance he won’t.
The governor requests that Danny comes back full time, as Steve is now “on the mend.” Danny grudgingly agrees, because he does have responsibilities beyond Steve. He does, however, request a few whole days off to assist in moving Steve to the rehab, which the governor grants.
Moving Steve is nothing short of a production; he is unable to walk, and so must be pushed in a wheelchair onto a ramp and up into a van. There is a three-inch thick binder filled with reports, diagnoses, and suggestions thrust into Danny’s hands, who is told to hand it over to the head of Steve’s rehabilitation team.
The rehab doesn’t look anything like what Danny had imagined, and for that he is grateful. The grounds are lush and well maintained, the building in tip-top shape. The facility had received rave reviews for their care of military vets and injuries, and Danny wanted the best he could possibly get for Steve.
Standing just outside the main sliding glass doors were a pair of nurses: an impossibly tall man, and a petite woman. The man got Steve and his wheelchair out of the van with enviable ease, smiling and speaking soothingly to Steve all the while. The woman approached Danny, right hand extended.
“Detective Williams! Good morning and welcome! My name is Ana, I’m Commander McGarrett’s occupational therapist.”
“Oh, uh, hi... please, call me Danny.”
Ana smiled warmly, reaching for the binder clutched in Danny’s hands. “Danny it is; please follow me, I have to give you the tour.”
They made their way inside, though instead of following Steve, they turned a corner and went in the opposite direction.
“The gentleman whisking Commander McGarrett away is Josh, and he’ll be working on physical therapy. Now, if you follow me this way, I can show you the gymnasium.” Ana gestured to a hallway encased with windows on either side; to the right was a large, open area with different sections devoted to different equipment. On the left was a swimming pool, as close to Olympic sized as Danny had ever seen.
“Our goal, as I’m sure you know, is to get your friend back on track. Josh will work with him on strengthening his legs and core and re-coordinating the muscles needed for walking. My job deals with upper body and the use of arms and hands for daily tasks, like feeding, teeth brushing, and hygiene.”
“Will he have someone else to help him with talking? Cuz he hasn’t said a word since he woke up,” Danny mentioned nervously.
“Absolutely; he’ll have a speech therapist who will work with him daily. Depending on how things go, he may also have a feeding therapist, but I’m hoping that since he can chew and swallow without problems, all he’ll need is to relearn the feeding motion.”
Ana smiled reassuringly before whisking Danny down another corridor. “Here’s the cafeteria... while this is technically a rehab hospital, the directors and staff try to treat it more like a retreat. There are people here twice the age of your friend, and also ten to fifteen years his junior; it’s just the nature of the game. Sometimes bringing folks together helps more than, say, talking to a therapist. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner occur here, and while we don’t demand attendance, we do try to encourage everyone to come down.”
Danny glanced around the large space, taking note of the various groupings of tables. He was overwhelmed with nostalgia: it was like a super-sized version of his high school cafeteria.
“What if they need assistance eating? Isn’t that kind of... embarrassing? Y’know, to do in front of people?” he asked, gesturing to the tables.
“Not necessarily. Not everyone has the same injuries and needs, but I can tell you a lot of the folks here have had to work hard in occupational therapy to regain the coordination to feed themselves. It isn’t uncommon for aides to be assisting with eating down here.”
Humming to himself, Danny followed the young woman out of the cafeteria and into a large room filled with rows of tables. There were several pairs sitting at the tables, all engaged in some sort of activity. “Here’s where Commander McGarrett will have his OT--”
“Ana, please... if he’s gonna be here as long as I’m thinking he is, just call him Steve. He’d tell you the same thing, if he could.”
Ana smiled again, resting her hand gently on Danny’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, he’ll be talking again before you know it. Now, let’s go check out the PT space.”
~*~
Danny’s knee was aching by the time he was done trailing Ana throughout the large building; it was worth the pain, though, to get a full sense of the place where Steve would be staying for the foreseeable future. Really, though, he wanted to see Steve’s room.
At last, Ana lead him to the residence hall, past closed doors and drawn curtains. Steve’s door was the last one on the left, which Ana assured Danny was a good thing. As he peered in the small window at the top of the door, he saw two large windows which offered a fantastic view of the foliage and sky. It looked peaceful.
When Ana opened the door, though, the peaceful image was broken: Steve was making a horrible noise, some sort of cross between a groan and a scream. His jaw was clenched so tight Danny feared he might crack his teeth.
“The hell is going on here?!” he shouted, arms waving.
Josh, who was in the process of strapping Steve to the large bed in the corner, glanced over his shoulder. “He’s experiencing severe nerve pain; the transfer interfered with his med schedule and so he’s well overdue for his next dosage. Once the drugs are in his system he’ll quiet down.”
True to his word, Josh got Steve strapped down and plugged in his IV, starting a drip. After a few more minutes of anguished noise, Steve quieted down, eyes drooping. Danny blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, then pointed an accusing finger at Ana.
“Nerve pain? No one said anything to me about nerve pain! Where the hell did that come from?” he demanded, hands on hips. Josh frowned, his deep green eyes worried.
“I love it when this happens,” Ana sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Ok, let me do what the charge nurses should’ve done and explain exactly what we’re dealing with here, alright? Due to the damage suffered during the beating, Steve incurred nerve damage on his left side. Have you noticed any ticcing? Or, hmm, maybe twitching?”
Danny felt blood drain from his face. “Twitching? I saw his left foot twitching at the hospital... I didn’t really think about it, though.”
Nodding, Ana glanced at her clipboard. “Right, ok, the twitching is the result of spasming. With the proper therapies, some of those nerves may recover, though there is a good chance Steve won’t regain full use of his left arm or leg. I will tell you that as the nerves begin to repair, the pain will lessen. He may still need the medication, but not nearly as much of it.”
“Uh huh, what else?” Danny asked, moving to stand beside Steve’s bed. “Will he actually be able to come back to himself?”
Ana and Josh exchanged a look. “Well,” Josh began, voice startlingly deep, “that depends on him. The brain is as much of a muscle as anything else; the more he uses it, the stronger it’ll become. I don’t like to think of these people as losing their faculties, so much as... forgetting them. Our job is to remind the nerves of what they’ve forgotten, remind the brain of what it’s supposed to be doing.”
“We also have the less exciting task of being realistic with the families and friends of the people we’re helping,” Ana continued, moving to stand beside Danny next to the bed. “It’s always good to have hope, to be positive, but it’s necessary also to be aware of the facts, which are that not everyone is capable of a full recovery. Steve suffered a lot of damage, and only time will tell how much he can regain.”
Silence fell as the three of them turned their attention to the man in the bed. Steve was asleep, snoring lightly as the IV drip moved the medicine through his system. His bruising had faded, the swelling down to almost nothing; aside from a few shadows around his eyes, he looked fine. Emotion welled up in Danny’s chest, and he took a few deep breaths through his nose; it wouldn’t do for him to start losing it now, not when there was still so much work to be done to help Steve get better.
“Ok, when do we start?” he said, clapping his hands. “What’s first?”
Ana and Josh looked at each other briefly. “He’ll have basic physical and occupational therapy to start,” Josh offered. “He needs to work the muscles in the limbs that were broken, bring them up to speed, as well as the left. Since he wasn’t comatose for very long, he hasn’t experienced any atrophy to speak of, but it’ll still be good to get him working.”
“Doing what, though?” Danny asked, frowning.
“We’ll start small; bending at the elbows and knees, rotating shoulders and hips, pushing against light resistance. The stretches and exercises he’ll be doing initially will seem sort of silly, compared to what he’s accustomed to, but trust me: baby steps are the keys to success here.”
The tall man’s tone was deep and reassuring, and Danny couldn’t help but relax. He didn’t really have a choice; these people knew a heck of a lot more about this sort of thing than he did, so he had to trust them.
~*~
He’d originally wanted to head to HQ, brief Chin and Kono on Steve’s transfer, but the drive back from the rehab hit Danny like a brick wall, and he realized he was exhausted. He did technically have the day off, so he headed home instead, thinking a solid lunch and maybe a nap in front of the TV would help.
Once settled at the house, sandwich and lemonade on the coffee table in front of him, the enormity of what was happening finally hit him. Emotion swelled, and Danny fought to keep it down, to not finally break after bending so far, but it was pointless, it needed to be let out.
The first sounds burst through, a guttural sobbing, and he buried his face in his hands as he keened. All of the information Ana and Josh had given him, as well as everything he’d learned from Steve’s team of doctors bombarded him. Words, sounds, images of charts and bills flew through Danny’s minds’ eye, followed by the site of Steve in the coma, battered and bruised.
“He’s going to get better!” Danny shouted into the empty house, his voice hoarse and clogged with tears. “He’s going to get better and everything will be the same!”
Now if only he could bring himself to actually believe it, he’d be all set.
~*~
Ana had suggested Danny wait a few weeks before coming to visit, to allow Steve to get settled into his new routine, and grudgingly he’d agreed. Three weeks to the day of the transfer, he drove himself to the rehab, front seat loaded up with photo albums and picture frames. He’d heard a murmuring that Steve would need help remembering things about his life, and Danny figured the best way to remind him was visually.
Pausing in the lobby, he looked over his box of pictures, frowning. Photos were all well and good, but in the face of not remembering any of the people or places shown, none of it would be very comforting. Glancing to the side, Danny caught sight of the gift shop, inconspicuously tucked into a corner. Heading inside, he searched the racks for something, anything that might jump out at him.
Along one wall was a large assortment of stuffed animals, some holding signs with things like “Get Well Soon!” printed on them. Wrinkling his nose, Danny bypassed those, looking instead to the toys that were plain. Pausing, he stared intently at one, a powdery blue-gray elephant. It was about a foot and a half tall and full of beans, making it squishy and floppy, the head stuffed with fluff. Something about it spoke to Danny, so he grabbed it before he could think better of it, paying and tossing the elephant into the box of photos. He hoped Steve -- or better yet, the therapists -- wouldn’t laugh at his selection.
When she’d called, Ana had given Danny the abbreviated version of Steve’s therapy schedule, and Danny hoped he’d timed things right. Coming up to Steve’s door, he was relieved to see that he’d done well with the timing, Steve was just finishing OT.
“Can you make a fist for me? Squeeze down on this, hard... harder than that, c’mon!” Ana was saying, her tone upbeat and encouraging. Steve was in his bed, what looked like a small ball clutched in one hand. Ana watched for a moment before wrapping her hand around Steve’s, forcing his hand to close more tightly around the ball. “Like this Steve, see? Squeeze super tight.”
Ana let go, and the ball fell from Steve’s hand. Coming closer, Danny noted that the ball was made of some kind of foam, like a stress ball. It wouldn’t take much to squeeze the ball, but then again Danny had to remind himself that Steve had to work to regain even that much strength.
“We’ll revisit this later, alright? Hey look, you’ve got a visitor!” Ana called, gesturing towards Danny.
Steve slowly turned his head, and Danny’s heart sank a little. His Steve’s eyes had always been bright and alert, sharp with intelligence. The Steve on the bed stared at him vacantly, a little dazedly.
“How we doing today, huh babe?” Danny asked, setting the box down on the small desk beside the bed. “Working hard?”
“He’s getting there,” Ana said, gathering up the stress ball and other assorted items. A lot of them looked like ordinary household junk in Danny’s opinion.
“What’s he ‘sposed to be doing with all of that, exactly?” he asked, skeptical.
Holding up a few of the items, Ana shrugged. “It’s hard to imagine how many little muscles it takes to do such simple tasks, like squeezing a stress ball, or pressing a button. Hell, even holding your arm up over your head for a few seconds; Steve’s nerves have to remember which pathways are open, what muscles need to be doing which jobs. Him gripping something tightly enough so I can’t take it away? The effort if Herculean.”
“Is he even aware... does he even know what he’s doing? Y’know, cognitively?”
“Muscles have memory that far exceed that in our brains,” Ana told him, not going into any more detail. “Our biggest goal is to get him mobile; my job specifically is to get him to a point where he can do remedial tasks independently.”
“That... doesn’t really answer my question,” Danny frowned. “I could care less about him being able to remember how to walk; I want him to be able to communicate. I want him to be able to express himself, to tell me if he’s feeling good, or bad, or if something hurts.”
Ana stopped by the door, Rubbermaid tub of tools under one arm. She regarded Danny quietly for a moment, studying him. It was a heavy gaze, her dark eyes seeming to bore into him.
“Detective Williams,” she began, holding up a hand to stop his protest about her calling him ‘Danny,’ “it’s important to have hope, as I’ve said. It is also, however, important to be realistic. Yes, Steve will regain some cognitive abilities, but he won’t regain them all. The parts of his brain that were the most affected were those that control speech, long term memory, and the understanding and processing of basest emotions. I’m not a brain doctor, but I’ve worked with enough folks in here to know the signs for certain things coming back, and Steve isn’t expressing any of them strongly right now. Should he regain the ability to communicate, you will have to interact with him the way you would a child, because there is a chance he won’t regain enough to process information like an adult.”
She paused, and Danny opened his mouth to protest. Frowning, Ana threw down her Rubbermaid and stormed over. “It takes a lot, a lot to deal with these people once they’ve come through from the other side. Do you have what it takes? Will you be able to love him now the way you loved him before? Because if you can’t, Detective Williams, I suggest you bow out now. This process isn’t for the faint of heart, or the weak and weary.”
Danny did his best goldfish impression, because he just couldn’t find any rebuttal. Ana’s expression was turning stormier by the second, so he gathered his wits.
“We’ve been through hell and back, him, me, and the rest of our team. If I can love him through all of that, I can love him through this.”
“Remember that in the dark of night, when doubt comes creeping up on you,” Ana said before gathering her things and leaving Danny alone with Steve. It was the first time since Steve had awoken that they’d been alone, and Danny wasn’t sure what to do with himself.
Steve didn’t show any sign of having heard or understood any of what had been said, and part of Danny was glad; now wasn’t the time to be fighting. Smiling, he reached into the box and produced the elephant. Steve stared, eyes focusing for the first time since Danny had entered the room.
Curious, Danny “walked” the toy up Steve’s leg, up his shin and over his knee, before having it take the same path back. He did a mental fist-pump when he noticed Steve’s eyes actually tracking the movement. He repeated the motion, this time with little sound effects. On the third walk, Danny looked up and saw Steve watching him, and his breath caught. Holding the breath, he slowly extended his arm, offering the elephant. Steve watched, following the movement before looking back at Danny.
After no move was made to take the toy, Danny tentatively reached out to grasp Steve’s left hand. “Here, babe, I got this for you, can you hold onto it?” he asked, folding Steve’s large hand around one of the elephant’s arms. Not daring to hope, Danny let go, and watched the toy tumble from Steve’s hand into his lap. There was a delayed reaction as Steve looked down a few seconds later.
“That’s ok, he can just sit beside you,” Danny offered, plucking the toy up and setting it beside Steve’s left elbow. Again with a delayed reaction, Steve cranned his neck to look, staring for a long moment at where the elephant sat before returning his gaze to Danny. Danny just smiled, removing a framed photo from the box. “This room is pretty boring looking; I wonder if the people here would let us hang a few pictures?”
Glancing around, Danny mentally hung a few of the pictures, nodding to himself. The room was pretty sparse, just the bed, desk, and dresser adorning it. The emptiness made Danny itch.
“You wanna hang some stuff?” came a rumbling from the door. Danny spun and saw Josh in the doorway, a large yoga ball under one arm. “It’s allowed, you just have to someone of the staff do it.”
Frowning, Danny spread his arms. “I am perfectly capable of hanging a few pictures on my own, thanks.”
“I’m sure you are; are you also capable of paying for any damage incurred should you miss the studs?” Josh asked, moving into the room and tossing the ball into a corner. “Having the staff do it is easier and that way, if they mess up and punch all sorts of holes in the walls, you aren’t responsible.”
“That... is an excellent point.”
Josh smiled and came up alongside the bed. “Hey Steve! Should we show Danny what we’ve been working on?”
Danny wasn’t anticipating a response, and Steve didn’t offer one, just allowed himself to be pushed and pulled until he was laying flat. Josh grasped one of Steve’s legs at the ankle and knee and began to move it, bending the knee towards Steve’s chest and then extending it back. Josh caught Danny watching and grinned.
“He can’t really do any of the stretching or whatever himself yet, so he needs help warming up. Once we’ve done a couple of reps, I’ll have him push against some resistance. He’s doing pretty well on the right side, almost back to normal.”
“And the left?” Danny asked, catching the slight twitching movement out of the corner of his eye.
“That’s the side with the nerve damage, so it’s considerably weaker. Each side does the same amount of reps, the right just has to work harder; sometimes I’ll put an ankle weight on him, or more resistance. How strong the left leg becomes will ultimately determine whether or not he’ll be able to walk normally in the future.”
“As opposed to what, a wheelchair?” Danny’s mind buzzed with the possibility of having to add ramps to the house, of widening the doorways, of roll-in showers.
“He has a wheelchair now, so we can move him to the various parts of the building. No, I mean like a walker, a cane, some sort of brace. The right leg will have enough strength in the beginning to hold him up, but it can’t do all the work. Steve’s what, mid-thirties? Putting the extra strain on the other leg will just speed up the possibility of problems later. All the work we do now to build up the left side is to attempt to even him out.” Josh continued to bend and pull Steve’s leg, the muscles bunching and flexing as they worked.
Danny watched, memorizing the movements for when he’d undoubtedly be helping to do them later. “He won’t be fifty-fifty though, right? I’m picturing a limp or something.”
“Oh, he’ll definitely have a limp; if the leg gets tired, and as he ages it’ll become more pronounced. But you’re right, he won’t be fifty-fifty; honestly? I’d love to get him to sixty-forty and maybe have a brace on the left for added support.”
“A brace isn’t so bad... if he’s got pants on, it won’t be noticeable, and if it helps him get around, I can’t complain,” Danny remarked, stepping out of the way to allow Josh to work on the opposite side.
Josh continued with the left leg, adding more resistance and a few extra reps before moving the bed to an upright position and swinging Steve’s legs over. Curious, Danny watched as the tall man rolled the yoga ball over, positioning it right in front of Steve.
“Danny, do me a favor and keep this ball from moving, ok?” Josh called, moving to grasp Steve at the elbows. Danny steadied the ball, and watched as Josh did what looked like a sort of ballroom dance move, hoisting Steve into a standing position and twirling them until Steve was in the right position to sit on the ball.
“You make that look so easy, moving him like that; must be nice to be what, seven-foot-seven?” Danny joked, holding onto the ball while Josh kept Steve upright.
“Six-foot-six, actually, but close enough. And really, it’s all about proper body mechanics. I’ve had to move guys twice Steve’s weight and nowhere near his height. Those were awful, but Steve’s not far behind me height-wise, so the center of gravity isn’t as wonky.”
“What’s this doing for him?”
Josh moved to hold Steve from the front, firmly grasping at his biceps. “Works the core; your abs and lumbar do most of the work to hold you up when you sit without support. Because of the damage to the left side, the obliques and other muscles don’t have as much strength, so if you notice, he tends to list to the left.” Letting go, Josh moved away just enough for Danny to see Steve begin to tilt to the left before grabbing him.
“These exercise balls are great for this; he’s working to balance and hold himself up. Eventually he’ll be doing this on his own, with me just standing by to help.”
Biting his lip, Danny asked “is this something I can do with him too? Once he comes home, I mean.”
“Sure, you can get one of these balls at any sporting goods store. Just be sure to get a decent brand, they last longer and take longer to start deflating.”
Nodding, Danny remained quiet through the rest of the session, watching as Josh moved Steve from sitting to standing, holding him up and offering support. After an hour and a half, Josh put Steve into a sitting position on the bed and swung his legs back up. “He’s got about an hour of downtime before the next therapy; usually he naps. If you want to get a coffee or something, cafe’s down the call.”
Thanking the large man, Danny watched him go before turning his attention back to Steve, who was curled on his right side, elephant tucked under his cheek. Smiling, he leaned over and placed a quick kiss on Steve’s cheek before ducking out of the room in search of a sandwich.
~*~
The routine as Ana had described it put all of the physical activities in the morning, and all of the more cognitive stuff in the afternoon. An older looking, sweet-faced lady came into Steve’s room and introduced herself as Ruth, the speech therapist. She and Danny wrestled Steve into the wheelchair and Danny pushed him down to what looked like an elementary school library.
“I like working in here better than in the rooms, you know? I don’t like for them to be so cooped up.” Ruth placed flashcards and various small toys on a table, beckoning Danny over. “Just push him right up to the edge here, that’s it. Now, what’ve you brought?”
The box of photos had been in Steve’s lap for the trip down, and Danny placed it on the table, removing a few. “I thought maybe, y’know, as visual aides?”
“Wonderful idea! I often ask the families and friends to bring in copies of pictures to use as home-made flash cards, to help with recalling of names. If you don’t mind picking out a few good headshots of the people closest, that would be great. They’re often the easiest to start with.”
Picking through the box, Danny half listened to Ruth as she spoke to Steve, showing him flashcards with a word on one side and a drawing on the other. He recognized some of them as the sorts of things he and Rachel had for Grace, when she was first learning to talk.
Ruth held up yet another card and Steve made a strange sort of grunting noise, startling Danny out of reverie. He glanced at Ruth, who seemed just as startled. Leaning over to see the image on the card, Danny’s mouth dropped open: it was an elephant. Shuffling the card back into the stack, Ruth went through them again, and still the elephant card elicited the same response. Nodding to herself, she made a note on her chart.
“I’ve been working with Steve every day for almost a month, and I have to tell you this is the first time he’s actually reacted to any of the images.”
“It’s weird... I bought him a stuffed elephant from the gift shop this morning, and he reacted to that, too.”
Grinning, Ruth reached out and patted Steve’s arm. “It would seem we’ve had a wee break-through. Well done, Steve. Shall we try some pictures?”
Sliding closer, Danny laid out four photos: himself, Kono, Gracie, and Chin. Ruth wrote the names on the backs of each photo and held them up for Steve to see, pronouncing each name slowly and clearly. When she got to Danny’s picture, she held it up and also gestured to him, and both Danny and Ruth watched as Steve looked from the picture to Danny’s face and back. A few more runs, and Ruth tried to ‘trick’ Steve, using the wrong names.
The only one he registered, each and every time, was Danny’s.
“You must be very special to him, for him to register this so quickly,” Ruth remarked, jotting down more notes. “This is wonderful, truly wonderful progress.”
“We, uh, we were very close,” Danny offered, not quite ready to reveal such personal information about himself and Steve. “We were partners at work, so we spent a lot of time together, as well as being friends.”
Ruth smiled, placing two photos on the table in front of Steve. One was of Grace, the other of Danny. Ruth asked Steve to point, or at least gesture towards one or the other, using Danny as the main choice. When two photos were placed on the table and neither were of Danny, Steve didn’t move either arm, just stared almost mistrustfully at the photos.
Danny could barely contain his excitement; the relief that there was actually something going on behind those vacant eyes was overwhelming. He might not have regained his speech, but he was responding to questions and solving problems, he was cognitive, and for that Danny was overjoyed.
~*~
In the coming months, Steve got stronger and stronger, able to move his limbs on his own, balance on the yoga ball with no assistance, and even amble up and down the halls with the aide of a walker. Danny even managed to get Steve to chase him, speed-walking through the halls with Steve trundling behind, a serious expression on his face.
Reports were mailed to Danny monthly, complete with charts and doctors notes. Physically Steve was progressing well; being in such great shape prior to the accident put him ahead of the curve in terms of recovery. Mentally, however, things were moving along at a slower pace. He’d been assessed and found to be processing thought in much the same way a child would, struggling to grasp higher concepts and becoming frustrated with the inability to speak properly.
Ana had been teaching Steve baby sign language, as much of it could be done with one hand. The left hand always seemed to be cradled to Steve’s belly or clutching the stuffed elephant Danny had gotten him months before. Danny tried not to dwell too much on that, instead trying to learn the signs Steve was using.
“So I have a question,” Danny asked, sitting in a circle on the floor of Steve’s room. Ana was to his right, Steve to his left. “How much longer before I can take him home?”
Steve made a questioning noise, his attention focused on Ana also; Danny smiled at him.
“He’d need to have a final evaluation, and your home would need to be assessed. Because of his mobility issues, Steve is going to have specific needs for the home.”
“I’ve already started putting together a bedroom for him downstairs, since climbing up and down a flight is probably out.”
“That’s a good start; he’ll probably need a walk-in shower too, since climbing in and out of a tub isn’t a good idea, and standing in the shower is a liability.”
Frowning, Danny rubbed at his forehead. “I’m sure that sort of thing isn’t covered by insurance.”
Ana shrugged. “It might be, worth a shot just to look.”
Steve made a sound in the affirmative, grinning broadly at Danny when Danny smiled at him again. Any time Steve made noise was a step in the right direction as far as Danny was concerned. The sooner they stopped the signing, the better.
~*~
Josh had mentioned wanting to involve swimming as exercise, since Steve had been in the Navy and thus had a strong connection to the water. Danny had agreed, signing off on the activity and promising to bring a pair of swim trunks the next time he visited.
After getting Steve changed into his bathing suit, Danny and Josh accompanied him to the pool, where a few other residents were receiving therapy. Josh guided them towards the shallower end, stepping lightly down into the water.
“Alright Steve, want to feel the water?” Josh asked, extending a hand? Steve stared out across the pool, frown lines forming between his brows. With Danny’s help, he sat at the edge of the pool and stuck his feet in, swishing them around but going no further.
“C’mon babe, you haven’t had a swim in forever, hop in!” Danny said, trying to be encouraging. The expression on Steve’s face wasnt what he’d been expecting, and he had the sick feeling this wasnt going to go well. Josh seemed to have a similar feeling, frowning slightly himself.
“Is it too cold? You’ll get used to it after a few minutes,” the big man offered, coming closer and lightly grasping Steve above the elbow. “Just give it a try, and if you don’t like it, you can get out.”
With a tug, Steve was in the water up to his hips, and before Danny could begin to shout encouragement, Steve was scrambling, arms flailing as he tried to push himself back out of the pool. Eyes wide, Josh gave him a hand and both he and Danny watched Steve scramble on hands and knees away from the edge of the pool, tucking himself into the corner and wrapping his arms around his legs.
“What the fuck was that?” Danny demanded, glaring down at Josh.
“I have no idea,” Josh replied, looking shocked. “I’ve never had someone react like that.”
“Babe, what’s the matter, you don’t like the pool?” Danny asked, crouching down in front of Steve. “I know it’s not the ocean, but its the best we can do right now.”
At the mention of the ocean, Steve brightened, looking at Danny questioningly. Scratching at his chin, Danny thought for a moment before rolling his eyes.
“I think I know what the problem is here,” he said as Josh approached. “The house he was living in has a beach in the backyard, he’s always been able to just wander in, y’know? He always decided how deep or not he wanted to go. A pool doesn’t offer that, really, you’ve got like two choices of depth.”
“Hmm, I think you’re right, which is slightly unfortunate considering how good swimming would be for him.”
Danny shrugged. “I’m more concerned about him not losing his shit than about him swimming. I’ll take him swimming when we go home.”
With that, Steve was brought back to his room and changed into soft, loose pajamas. Josh bid them farewell and left them alone, sitting on Steve’s bed. The elephant was tucked securely under Steve’s left elbow, it’s customary place beside him.
“So, babe, I’ve been thinking about the whole bringing you home thing, and I have the feeling these guys won’t let you leave until you can talk, at least a little. The signing is ok, I guess, but not everyone knows ASL or baby ASL and if I have to bring in caretakers... well. I think we need to get Ruth down here to really get you working on that.”
Steve regarded him quietly, eyes glazed before coming back into focus. He smiled then, and danny knew he was on board.
“Alrighty... let’s try naming the people in the pictures, huh?” Danny suggested, waving a hand at the framed photos on the wall. A custodian had hung several at Danny’s request; there was a group photo of the team from a barbeque, Steve and Mary, Steve in uniform after graduating from Annapolis. Danny had even managed to dig up an old photo of Jack and Doris, though getting into all of that with Steve was not something he was looking forward to.
Moving to stand in front of the pictures, Danny called out names and waited while Steve pointed to the corresponding face. The team he had down pat, no problem. He usually recognized Kamekona, but only after Danny called him “shave ice.” Malia, Mamo, Gracie all followed after careful scrutiny of the photos.
“Mom and Dad,” Danny said, and Steve frowned, pointing at the picture of his parents. “And for good measure: me.”
Steve turned and stared at Danny; maybe it was a parenting thing, he couldn’t be sure, but he always referred to himself in the third person, hoping it would push Steve to say his name out loud. Just saying “me” was different.
After regarding Danny quietly for a moment, Steve smiled his sunny smile and pointed to Danny in the team picture. “Danno,” he said, still smiling.
“Yup, very good, ‘Danno’-- wait, what?”
Grinning, Steve repeated “Danno!”
“Oh my god,” Danny breathed, his heart in his throat. “Danno” wasnt a word he’d uttered since Steve had been awake; there was no way he’d heard it at the rehab, so him saying it meant that he remembered. Overwhelmed with emotion, Danny threw his arms around Steve and tugged him close, squeezing tight.
This was the moment, this was what he’d been waiting all those months for.
Steve was finally coming back to him.