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Published:
2018-01-13
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1/1
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Ke kōhi maila ka uhane (The soul is beginning to heal)

Summary:

The first thing that assails Danny’s senses when he breaches the room is the smell. The stench is one he associates intimately with violence: a potent mix of human stench: blood, piss, shit and vomit, mixed with humidity, decay and mold, the whole ensemble amalgamated into a pungent miasma that only spells one thing in his mind: death.

Notes:

Yes, another one. I know, I know, I know!.

But... I found this in my WIP folder, 95% done, and... It begged to be finished, so maybe my muse will let me finish that 6.25 multi-chapter tag or that 7.22 tag or that end of season 4 Steve character study fics I have in the works. *Sigh.*

Unbeta'd so shout out if I messed up.

Happy reading and Happy 2018. May it bring you, first of all, health, and anything else you need, and desire.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

 

 

The first thing that assails Danny’s senses when he breaches the room is the smell. The stench is one he associates intimately with violence: a potent mix of  human stench: blood, piss, shit and vomit, mixed with humidity, decay and mold, the whole ensemble amalgamated into a pungent miasma that only spells one thing in his mind: death.

The second thing that registers, barely a millisecond later, is the expected sight of bodies on the floor. Three of them, one female, two males, his mind catalogues automatically. He sweeps the room by reflex but his heart’s in his throat and…

“Steve.” The word slips out of his mouth even before he thinks it, his brain identifying the second form, the furthest from the door, even before he has time to process what it all means. The gun resting by the lax hand, the restraints around the ankles and wrists…

He rushes in and he’s so unbelievably relieved when Steve comes to with a start the moment he touches him. The relief is very short lived when Steve answers his “You all right?” with a confused mutter and wild-eyed, confused look. The blood on his face and the very obvious bullet graze on his temple is cause for immediate concern but it’s the uneven and sluggish pupils and glazed eyes that worry him, right up until Steve asks for his Dad.

The look of utter devastation and grief in Steve’s eyes shatters his heart, and then Steve breaks down and… He just wants to take his partner out of there, away from the horrors, away from the memories. So he tells Steve that he’s all right over and over again, puts a hand on the back of his neck and squeezes, till he hears him mutter that he’s good. They get him up and Steve’s arm is cold and shaking as it drapes over his shoulders.

He’s still in tears as Steve makes them pause by Wo Fat’s cooling body and Danny’s never been so glad the bastard’s dead.

Steve’s steps are mostly steady, until they reach the bottom of the stairs. He looks up and stumbles, crashing into Chin. They hold him upright but his weight sags towards the floor and he pitches forward.

“Whoa!”

There’s an ugly sound and Steve shudders as he falls to his knees, coughing thickly. Both Danny and Chin kneel with him, holding him up as he coughs and coughs, until he’s gasping for breath.

“Get a rush on that bus,” Danny tells Kono, locking eyes with her. She nods and runs off ahead.

“I’ll find out whatever the hell they dosed him with,” Grover says grimly, somewhere behind him.

“Yeah,” he says absently rubbing the back of Steve’s neck as he coughs until he retches over the dirty concrete floor. Danny saw the IV bags lying on the floor too. They need to know.

“Easy, easy, buddy, c’mon,” he coaxes, as Steve curls forward on himself, seemingly unable to stop coughing or to catch his breath. “C’mon, deep breath through your nose, slow and easy, that’s it, slow and easy.”

Steve manages a breath, and another, the coughing jag easing. Danny can hear each inhale and exhale rattling in his chest and fuck if he knows why the floor of that damned room was covered in water. He can only speculate and he doesn’t like where his mind is going.

Kono comes back around the same time Steve manages to lift his head up.

“Bus is five minutes out. Here. It’ll help.” she says, a blanket clutched in her hand. Danny has no clue where she found a thick, grey wool blanket in Hawaii, but he doesn’t care.

She shakes the blanket open and drapes it over Steve’s shoulders before they help him up again.

Steve, stubborn as ever, pushes to his feet, despite the bloody froth Danny can see at the corner of his mouth and the fine mist of red on the floor where he was hunched over.

They still have to help him up the stairs but he walks out of that building on his own two feet. He’s trembling and unsteady, but he’s standing. The ambulance is still a couple minutes out when they make their way outside so Danny guides him to the passenger seat of the Camaro.

He has Chin get a towel from the trunk and he gently pats Steve’s chest and head dry, leaving the towel in Steve’s lap when he’s done. He keeps droning on, talking to Steve as he picks up one wrist, undoing the tight leather restraint carefully, all his movements slow and telegraphed, as not to startle or surprise Steve, who’s eyes are still glazed and a little wild, the pupils blown wide by whatever crap they injected him with. He can see the needle marks on his arms, his neck, his shoulders. He saw Grover come out of the building with IV bags and a black leather medical bag so who knows what kind of crap Wo Fat dosed Steve with, what kind of hallucinations and psychological torture he was submitted to, over the physical abuse.

Bastard. Fucking dead rat bastard. He can’t kill him again but he damn wishes he could.

Once he’s got one wrist free, he does the same with the other, and with each ankle.

His partner watches him mutely, silent tears trailing down his bruised face and that right there breaks his heart all over again.

He finally hears the siren of the coming ambulance and he turns to watch it come into the lot, waving it over.

As it gets close he feels Steve’s hand on his back, fingers weakly scraping at his shirt, just above his belt.

He turns, grabbing the searching hand, crouching low, just in front of his friend.

“Babe? You okay? What is it?”

Steve blinks and nods slowly, shivering under the blanket. “M’ okay. Thank you, Danny,” he rasps. “Thank you for… coming for me.”

Danny smiles softly, squeezes back. “Always, babe. Always.”

Steve’s hand tightens on his until he’s got their hands locked in a tight, unbreakable clasp.

Steve closes his eyes and gives one firm nod before letting go, leaning tiredly against the seat. “I know,” he whispers, fresh tears falling from his eyes. “I know.”

Danny slips closer, puts his hand back on the nape of Steve’s neck. “I got you. Always. I got you.”

Steve nods, shaking a little harder and Danny knows he’s crying again.

“Ambulance is here,” he murmurs, hearing footsteps coming closer.

The EMTs jog over a second later and he can feel Steve pull himself together under his hand and that’s okay.  He understands Steve’s need to pull up his shield in front of strangers. He also knows Steve’s not okay, not by a long shot, won’t be for a while, and that he’ll need to bully him into talking, but that’s okay too. That’s part of his job.

No, not job. Responsibility. No, that’s wrong too, because there’s no question, no obligation. He’ll be there, period, for whatever Steve needs.

Because they’re family, brothers, and that’s what family does.

 

Fin.

Notes:

Thanks all, for reading, and please, let me know how you liked it.