Surface tension, 1/1

[mangacat201]

Title: Surface Tension
Author: Mangacat(201)
Fandom: Hawaii-5-0
Pairing/Characters: Steve/Danny
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~3k


Summary: Steve’s been taken before, hurt plenty of times, and Danny has always, always dealt with what comes next, the distance, the silence. This time, it needs to be different.


Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii-5-0 and don’t make a claim to its creative or economic profit. Just shoveling in the sandbox for a bit, I’ll give them back after playing. Promise.

Spoilers: Full spoilers for S05E07 Ina Paha

Warnings: references to canon torture and trauma, PTSD, injury


A/N: So, who’d have thought, right when I had no idea how to fill my hc_bingo square for ‘waterboarding’, Hawaii-5-0 would oblige and serve me up on a silver platter? This is also kind of for the_other_sandy, who had Very.Strong.Feelings for things in this episode, some of which I shared and which prompted me to write this fic. I hope this provides some stuffing for those holes. Also, I've had no patience to have this beta'ed, so all remaining mistakes are mine.

Also on AO3



Danny doesn’t stop murmuring to Steve in a low voice, babbled reassurances that wouldn’t make any sense to a rational mind. But the only thing he sees is Steve’s head angling towards him like a compass needle straining north and he can’t stop. The EMTs on call at the scene take one look at them and wave Danny into the ambulance alongside the stretcher they’ve managed to wrestle Steve onto with minor difficulty. It really says something that the island’s emergency responders are divided into two groups, those who are familiar with 5-0 protocol and those who aren’t and that the percentage of the former is steadily rising.

While Steve managed to walk out of the big factory space on his own two feet, he grows increasingly incoherent on the drive to Queen’s Medical Center and it becomes clear that whatever they’d used to drug him must have been recently topped up in his system before the final fight with Wo Fat. One of the rookie cops brought out a heavy leather bag before the ambulance took off, its contents clinking ominously when the EMT riding with them in the back took it. He’s already started rattling off the largely unpronounceable labels of all the bottles to dispatch and the way his eyebrows are climbing up on his forehead tells Danny all about just how deep a shithole they’ve found themselves in.

He chooses to concentrate on Steve instead, who’s holding his hand with the iron grip of hanging on to a lifeline, glazed eyes tracking Danny’s every move like he’s got the answer to all the questions of the universe. At least, Steve’s not employing all his lethal ninja-SEAL reflexes on the medical personnel as long as he’s so focused on Danny, and if he’s got one skill in his toolbox it’s to talk endlessly about everything and nothing. Meanwhile he decidedly postpones his own freak-out over the fact that Steve apparently killed his arch-nemesis in a fight for his life while being so drugged up on hallucinogens that he thought his father was still alive.

A flurry of medical professionals gathers around them upon arriving at the hospital and they waste no time poking and prodding Steve, who seems both increasingly agitated and slowed in his reactions. When they’re wheeling the stretcher towards one of the trauma rooms, the doctor in charge respectfully asks Danny to stay back and let them do their work. And Danny is well aware that he has nothing significantly competent to add to the treatment, as much as he wants to stay, but Steve… he’s not letting go.

His fingers are closed around Danny’s hand like a vice, just shy of a heavy bruising grip that gets tighter every time Danny tries to disentangle them. Danny tries to gentle Steve, get through to him that he’s going to be just outside the whole time.
“Steve, Steven, you’re going to be fine, but I have to let all those very competent doctors do their job and that means I gotta leave, buddy.”
In response, Steve jack-knifes off the bed and topples over a tray with his flailing arm, scattering the shiny instruments all over the floor. Danny has no idea where to put his hands on Steve’s battered body without causing him any additional pain. But when he splays his palm over the racing heart under Steve’s heaving lungs, the man goes deathly still in a snap, gaze riveted on Danny, who has the uncomfortable feeling of being pinned by a predator, even though the breaths audible over the bustling emergency room soundtrack tell an entirely different story. The lead surgeon exchanges a weighted glance with the nurse and then looks at Danny over Steve’s tense shoulders.

“Detective Williams…”
“I know, I’ll stay out of your hair while you work.”
“No, I was thinking, you should continue talking to Commander McGarrett. He seems to be responsive to you at least.” And I am not interested in mopping my own people off the floor if he goes ballistic, is not actually said, but Danny gets it all the same.
Which is how he ends up with his one hand half crushed in Steve’s grip and the other pressed into his chest to make sure that rapidly thumping heart doesn’t just stop somewhere along the way, while someone is preparing to put sutures in to close the wound on Steve’s temple that is actually a bullet-groove, sweet Mary, Mother of Christ and Danny is so not prepared to deal with this.

Steve flinched bodily at the sight of the syringe, and fixated the needle with a glare so fierce it spelled dire consequences for anyone trying to come near him with it. So they’re doing it without even the local anaesthetic and in any other circumstance, Danny would be hazing McGarrett about the tough guy routine, but he can feel it in his gut that this one is different. This one will hang over their heads for a long time to come, of that Danny is sure, as he’s taking in Steve’s anguish and feels the pain of watching the strongest man he knows crumble away before his eyes.

Mostly Danny is a whole lot terrified. Frightened beyond belief that this time, just patching up the outside hurts and making Steve comfortable in his own body again just won’t do the trick. He doesn’t voice his fears of course, instead starting in on a lengthy treatise on Gracie’s latest report card while the hospital sounds are fading in and out around him. And because he has his hand pressed so closely to Steve’s chest, he’s the first to catch it, the loosening of muscles that were tense like steel-cables under his fingers just seconds ago and he gets a shout out before Steve actually goes slack. Danny manages to get a grip on his shoulder before he slumps back onto the bed like a ragdoll and lowers him down carefully with the nurses’ assistance.

“Jesus, what is happening to him, would you kindly get off your asses and DO SOMETHING already!?”
“Detective Williams, I understand that you’re upset, but I assure you, we’re doing all we can to give Commander McGarrett the best available care. The compound that was used to drug him does most likely contain a sedative component to make him easier to handle for his attackers. I’m frankly surprised that he has remained upright and conscious for so long, but if you let us get back to work, we’ll make sure he’s going to be fine.”
Danny takes a deep breath and reminds himself that there is a reason why relatives are not allowed into the trauma rooms and that he is a professional who knows how to keep his own emotions from driving his actions. He nods towards the hassled doctor and makes to step back away and let them get back to tending to Steve, but it seems that even unconscious, he’s not prepared to let go of Danny. He looks down at their clasped hands and feels the warmth of a blush creep up the back of his neck, but the doctor just levels him with a softened look before barking out new orders to the staff around her.

Danny makes a point of staying still and out of their hair, watching as more and more parts of Steve vanish under bandages or get taped with a scary number of sensors of some kind as the doctors and nurses call out to each other with undecipherable bits of information. He scrubs his hand over his face and startles when his fingers come away wet. It didn’t register with him that apparently he’s had tears running down his face for quite some time now. Danny wipes his face again more thoroughly, but the tears won’t stop. There is no drama, no snot or sobs, just silent tracks running down his cheeks. He should feel embarrassed, but instead there is just the unravelling of a knot that’s been tightening inside of him since Colombia, crushing parts of him. It drains away like quicksand, all the things he hasn’t been able to let go of falling away. Danny feels himself unwinding along with the slowly calming breaths that lift Steve’s chest and bit by bit, the world doesn’t seem like it’s going to break apart in seconds.

When the doctors have patched up what there is to bandage and made sure Steve’s heart isn’t going to just stop unexpectedly from the repeated acquaintance with a high voltage cattle prod, jeez, the lead surgeon concludes that letting him rest and wake up naturally after all the drugs have cleared his system is the best course of action. They transfer him to a nice little private room and someone is kind enough to get a high-backed chair for Danny to drop down into. Steve’s grip has slackened by now, so that finally Danny would be able to take his hand back. This time, it’s his choice not to let go. He catches the nurses throwing each other looks out of the corner of his eye, but nobody comments before they leave him alone with the reassuringly steady beep that measures Steve’s heartbeat.

Danny checks his phone to find messages from both Chin and Kono letting him know that the rest of Five-0 is neck deep in the clean-up and it’ll be a while before they can finish the debrief and visit. Danny shoots a couple texts back to tell them that Steve’s fine pending review and thank them for handling everything and having his back on this. After that, he feels the rest of the adrenaline drain from his body and it’s not long before he dozes off into a light sleep.

~*~

Danny quickly shakes off the cobwebs when he wakes, but needs a few moments to puzzle out what exactly has brought him out of the light sleep in the first place. The room is covered in shadows, the sun having travelled towards the evening horizon considerably. The heart-monitor is still steady, if a bit faster than it was when Danny had fallen asleep, but something isn’t right. Finally, Danny’s mind clears enough for him to lock onto the other distinctive sound in the room. Steve’s head is thrown back, face pale under the island tan and small, clipped gasps are leaving his mouth. He sounds like he’s desperately trying to breathe, but no air is getting into his lungs.

Danny fumbles for the call button and then surges up to check for anything obstructing Steve’s airways, but he can’t see anything. It’s just Steve’s eyes flickering rapidly under his lids, proving he’s still under… dreaming. Dreams of whatever it was they did to him after he’d been taken. There was some indication of what was going on from his injuries of course, but Danny is experienced enough to know that the worst things you can do to a person sometimes don’t leave a mark. What’s really disturbing him though, is the fact that Steve’s heartbeat is still so steady, if elevated, that nobody would even notice that he’s apparently caught in a nightmare that makes him sound like he’s drowning on dry land, if Danny wasn’t there to witness it.

“Jeez, this is so fucked up”, Danny mumbles, before getting his shit together. “Steve, come on, you’re not there anymore. Come on! Wake up, buddy. You’re safe.”
Danny doesn’t dare do much more than run his fingertips lightly over Steve’s jaw, well aware that trying to shake or jostle him awake would likely be a very bad idea. A nurse rushes in just as Steve jerks awake and Danny has barely enough time to throw his hand up, palm out, to signal her to stay back. Steve’s arm shoots out to land on the juncture of Danny’s neck and shoulder and for a split second when they lock eyes, Danny wonders if Steve is going to attack him for real, press down his thumb over his vulnerable throat and crush his windpipe. He still doesn’t move.

It’s just a moment before Steve’s eyes clear and focus. The cold, hard edge bleeds into soft recognition.
“Danno.”
The word is threadbare, disbelieving, which cuts Danny more than all the visible injuries on Steve’s body. The notion that someone would manage to twist Steve’s perception so far as to think Danny wouldn’t be coming for him is hard to bear.
“Yeah, Steve. I’m here, you’re safe.”
Steve drags him closer so he can touch their foreheads together. Danny lets him, but throws a glance at the nurse, who is anxiously hovering a few feet from the bed.

“Hey, babe, you think you can let this nice lady here have a look at you? Make sure everything’s on the up and up?”
Steve’s eyes have slid closed and his nostrils flare, as if he’s bracing himself for more hurt, but finally, his expression clears and he nods towards the nurse. She comes over to check all the machinery and his IV’s. She’s petite and sweet, but no nonsense. She keeps up a steady stream of words as she works, telling Steve what she’s doing, asking him questions intermittently, which he answers with a clipped, flat tone.

“Alright, Commander McGarrett, it looks like everything is in order for now and the drugs seem to be clearing out of your system at the expected rate. The doctor will be by shortly to talk to with you about what’s going to happen next, but if you experience any discomfort, we ask that you call us in immediately.”
She says it to Steve, but slides her eyes over to Danny very pointedly for the last part. He inclines his head to let her know he got the message. She nods at both of them once more and leaves.

Danny leans back to take in Steve and his stupid face for the first time today without a ton of adrenaline pumping through him. There are colourful bruises darkening his skin and the bandage covering the fresh stitches on his temple is dotted with a little red, but his eyes are clear and alert. They fix on Danny with a look he can’t quite decipher and he wonders what Steve saw under the influence of the drugs Wo Fat shot him up with.
“You with me, babe?”
Steve lies back against the propped up pillow and lets his gaze wander past Danny, staring out the window for a few moments, before looking back at him.
“You mean, do I know that my dad’s dead and you didn’t shoot Hesse in the kneecaps while he was cuffed to a hospital bed? Yeah, I got that, Danno.”

If Danny had had something to drink just then, he would definitely have done a literal spit-take.
“I… what? I cannot believe you, Steven McGarrett, I’m deeply offended on behalf of your subconscious representation of my person. What else did I do, wear garish Hawaii shirts and frolic at the beach?”
The weary smile that stretches Steve’s lips tells him all he needs to know.
“I have no words, you hear me? No words. But I owe you a serious ass-kicking, McGarrett. How many times have I told you – you’re going to get your stupid ass killed with those stunts you pull. And there you are, recreating the OK Corral in a seedy factory backroom.”

The words bite, but his tone doesn’t and Steve’s smile turns into a wry grin.
“Wasn’t my fault this time, Danno.”
Danny takes a shaky breath.
“No, I guess it wasn’t. At least, this time we can be sure Wo Fat won’t be coming back for more.”
The tentative smile slides off Steve’s face and Danny instantly regrets his words when he sees how Steve tries to turn his expression into steely, military stoicism. He jumps in with no clear plan, really, but the certainty that this one will have to be different from all those times they’ve done this before.
“No, babe, don’t… don’t try and hold it in, you can’t bottle this one up.”
Steve meets his eyes with a caught out look on his face, and Danny realizes that he’ll have a very short window to make McGarrett open up as long as he’s off balance. And he’ll need to tap into something deep, mostly unacknowledged to do it.

“Come ‘ere, you…”
He knows well enough that Steve’s biggest reservation again appearing vulnerable is an audience, so he tugs him closer, delicately, so that his face is hidden in the curve of Danny’s neck, similar to the way Danny has shielded and consoled Grace many times. Steve’s shoulders stay tense and defiant at first, but then Danny starts murmuring to him like he did on the ride in the ambulance.
“Come on, let it out. It’s alright, you’re safe. You made it, babe, you made it out.”
And that does it, though it’s not like the floodgates open, or even that the wrenching sobs come back that Steve couldn’t keep down when they found amidst the bloody wreckage of his fight with Wo Fat. It’s the tremor of his shoulders rising and falling with a quiet, irregular hitch and moisture slowly soaking into the fabric of Danny’s shirt, while he continues to whisper trivialities, lips brushing against the sweaty skin of Steve’s unbandaged temple, fingers laced together once again in a crushing grip.

He gives Steve time, brushing his hand lightly over his back, noting how the muscles unwind with exhaustion and release. He’s under no illusion that this is all that’s needed to deal with the great big bag of issues that is Steven McGarrett. But the weight that had been dragging him down and started lifting earlier while Steve slept, gets even lighter and Danny decides, this… this is damn good start.

Danny has let his voice taper off into silence, measuring Steve’s deeper breaths, wondering if he’s fallen asleep on his shoulder, when the man speaks up:
“Danny?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I love you.”
Danny doesn’t miss a beat before he responds: “I know, Steve, I love you, too.”
It’s not the first time they’ve exchanged those words, their shared past is chock-full of perilous situations that called for the reassuring weight of the knowledge in the aftermath. Sometimes they say it out loud, sometimes they don’t. Still, it’s always there, when they come out on the other side. But right now, in the unguarded intimacy of the moment and with Steve’s face still pressed close to his chest, Danny feels like it carries a certain quality they haven’t expressed before. An undercurrent that makes his heart beat faster and his fingertips tingle where they brush Steve’s skin. He doesn’t let himself follow the thought any further than that, not now. They’ve got time. And that takes Danny’s breath away for a moment and he has to squeeze his eyes shut under the onslaught of the realisation. Against all odds, they got time.
“Steve?”
“Hmm…?”
“That kidnapping and torture thing…? Let’s not do that for a bit, ok?”
The little snort sending a puff of air against his collarbone and the tightening of fingers around his anchors Danny firmly in the here and now, gives him back the ability to breathe and Steve answers:
“Yeah… yeah, I’d like that.”



Fin.

Comments

[the-other-sandy.livejournal.com]

Thank you! This fic had the three things I desperately needed after that episode: Danny emotionally supporting Steve, Steve letting himself take comfort from Danny, and a shout-out to how Danny shooting an unarmed hospital patient is 12 kinds of BS. I feel better now.

[mangacat201.livejournal.com]

You're welcome, darling, because you expressed most of what I felt the episode really needed still, even without the slash goggles on, necessarily. Which is why I'm currently writing a sequel (of sorts) as a tag to the latest episode that kinda does more of the same. And hey, don't worry about having a busy life, it happens! I'm glad you enjoyed!