Be Still, My Heart
Title: Be Still, My Heart
Summary: Written for the H50 h/c comment-fic meme that's going on right now at hawaii_50_hc, for a prompt by the lovely and talented sinnerforhire. Steve/Danny: Steve and Danny have to chase down a suspect. Afterwards, Steve brushes off Danny's comments about having chest pain and shortness of breath as his typical exaggerations--until Danny collapses.
Characters: Steve, Danny, with a side order of Chin and Kono
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: ~2,500
Disclaimer: Playing with CBS's toys while they're not looking.
Warnings: Nothing major. Minor spoilers for 1.23.
Neurotic Author's Note #1: Comment-fic, written in a hurry and unbeta'd. Also, I pulled most of the medical information here out of my... um... hat. Just FYI. Anything totally inaccurate is entirely my fault and, yeah, just try to suspend your disbelief a little, okay? :)
Neurotic Author's Note #2: I should really try to write something that doesn't involve whumping Danny, at some point, shouldn't I? I seem to do that a lot...
The thing is, it's just about the last thing Steve was expecting. For all that he likes to tease Danny about his overwhelming love for malasadas and give him a hard time about being out of shape, when it comes down to it, they both know that he's full of it. Sure, Danny might not be the tallest guy ever -in fact, "short" is the word that comes to mind even though Steve has enough of a sense of self-preservation never to use it to Danny's face- but he's strong, built for endurance rather than speed. Even so, he can still sprint with the best of them. Steve still has a vivid memory of Danny vaulting over the hood of a car to chase down a suspect, even if Danny denies it to this day, claiming Steve was out in the sun too long. The point is, Danny's got more than what it takes to be a member of Five-0, physically speaking, and that's one of the many reasons that Steve counts on him to have his back, all the time.
There's also the fact that, well, Danny bitches about just about everything. The heat, the sand, the ocean. Pineapples, most types of citrus. The fact that Grace wants him to eat more salad to keep his entirely hypothetical cholesterol down. Danny doesn't have a cholesterol problem, doesn't even have high blood pressure if you ignore his ranting about how Steve is bad for his overall cardiovascular health. Five-0 get routine physicals, just to be on the safe side, because Steve can't take the risk than one of his team might not be up to the job and therefore endanger all of them. He might be trained to endure more physical hardship than most, but the same doesn't go for the rest of his team, who are trained to be cops, not SEALs, and despite what Danny might have to say on the topic, Steve does keep that in mind.
That's mostly why, once they've chased down the latest perp and Steve has tackled him to the ground, he doesn't pay that much attention at first to Danny's grousing, busy as he is applying zip-ties to the perp's wrists.
"Swear to God, Steven," Danny pants next to him, folded in half and hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath, "one of these days… I'm going to let you… run the perps down by yourself." He stops, takes another breath. "I'm serious… what happened to… waiting for backup, like I asked?"
"He was going to get away," Steve points out reasonably. There was no reason to wait, not when the guy was on foot and easily pursued. "He's our best lead in the case. You want to book him, Danno?"
Danny shakes his head, wiping sweat from his face with his shirtsleeve. "Book him yourself… too busy having a heart attack, here…" he wheezes. His shirt is soaked with sweat under the arms and clinging to his back, revealing the outline of his undershirt, and to Steve's lasting surprise he actually reaches up and loosens his tie.
"One of these days you're going to have to learn to dress for the island, you know," he tells him. "You look stupid with a tie, and now you're overheating."
Danny straightens up a little and rolls his right shoulder as though he's trying to work out a kink in it, rubs at his arm with his left hand, still breathing hard. "Screw you."
"No one wears a tie in Hawaii, brah," the perp offers up from where Steve is still grinding his cheek into the asphalt, and Steve smacks him behind the head. "Hey, watch it! That's police brutality! I got rights!"
"No one asked for your opinion," Steve tells him sternly. "Keep your mouth shut unless you're planning on telling us everything you know about the deal that's going down next week."
Not surprisingly, the perp has nothing to say to that. Steve turns back to Danny to reiterate his request -because, really, booking the bad guys is Danny's God-given right, and Steve won't take that away from him unless he really has to- and stops short when he sees Danny still rubbing at his shoulder, his expression pinched.
"Hey, Danno, you okay?"
Danny shakes his head, and Steve feels his stomach clench unpleasantly. "I dunno… I can't catch my breath," he says faintly, and the next thing Steve knows his knees are buckling and he lands hard on the ground.
Steve is at his side in a split-second, his prisoner forgotten on the ground. He grabs his radio just long enough to bark "Officer down!" and his exact location, pulls Danny toward him until he's got him propped up, one hand at his back. "Come on, Danno, talk to me. Did you get hit?" He doesn't remember the perp firing, and he doesn't see blood, but nothing else is springing to mind right now that could be causing this. He presses two fingers to the artery in Danny's neck, feels his pulse flutter erratically under his fingertips,
Danny just shakes his head again. "Can't breathe right," he manages, right hand balling into a fist and rubbing at his chest. "Shit… really hurts."
It's like the sarin incident all over again, and Steve is pretty sure he can't take the idea of Danny dying any better now than he did then. "Okay, I got paramedics on the way. You just keep breathing, you hear me? Danny!" he gives him a little shake when Danny's eyes threaten to close. "You stay with me, now. Come on, breathe."
To his surprise, a smile tugs at the corner of Danny's lips. "Damn… can't believe… I'm actually having a heart attack... irony's gonna kill me…"
"Hey," Steve shakes him again when his eyes do close, but this time Danny doesn't respond to his voice, going still in his arms, breathing even more laboured. "Danny! Danny, come on! Stay with me, Danny!"
The siren he wasn't paying attention to before suddenly wails right behind him, and a moment later he's being moved aside by paramedics, one of whom starts barking questions at him while the other rips open Danny's shirt and cuts through the fabric of his undershirt with a pair of scissors. He blinks for a second, gathers his composure, starts listing off the symptoms he remembers: pain, sweating, shortness of breath, and before he can even finish his sentence they're taping the electrodes of a portable defibrillator to Danny's chest.
"Clear!"
It's never like they show in the movies. Danny barely moves while the shock is delivered, and even though it looks like nothing has happened, Steve is relieved to note that no second shock is administered. One of the paramedics places a mask over Danny's mouth and begins compressing the plastic bag attached to it by a valve, and Steve loses sight of them as they load Danny onto a gurney into the back of the ambulance.
Chin and Kono catch up with Steve a few minutes later, just long enough to help him put the perp into HPD's capable hands before Steve does something they'll all regret.
"You go on ahead to the hospital, boss," Kono tells him. "We'll meet you there, soon as we've got him squared away."
Steve nods, barely registering what she's saying before he's getting behind the wheel of Danny's Camaro and driving at speeds that would normally have Danny bitching at the top of his lungs about safety and the rule of law and his very ardent desire not to leave his daughter orphaned at the tender age of eight. Shit. Steve tightens his grip on the wheel, finds a parking spot close enough to the emergency room doors that it's probably illegal, but he'll happily use his privileges this time if it gets him news of Danny faster. He sprints to the front desk, only to find himself thwarted by an entirely unflappable receptionist who simply hands him a clipboard with forms and a pen and instructions to sit and be patient until the doctor comes to talk to him.
"Your partner is being treated," she repeats firmly when he tries to get past her. "We have the highest standards of medical care here. Please have a seat, fill out the forms, and someone will be out to inform you of his condition as soon as possible. Please sit, Commander. No, I realize who you are, but I'm afraid only authorised medical personnel can go past this point," she steps in front of the double doors and glares at him, shoving the clipboard against his chest. "Have a seat. Thank you."
He doesn't sit, but it's a small act of rebellion in the face of everything else that's spiralled out of his control today. He can't bring himself to focus on any of the paperwork, is ridiculously relieved when Chin and Kono finally make an appearance and remove the clipboard and the now-broken pen from his grasp. They put up better with his anxious pacing than the rest of the hospital staff, and Chin steps in automatically to run interference before the receptionist drives her metal ruler right through Steve's forehead out of frustration.
It feels like days have gone by before the doctor, an older man in a slightly rumpled white coat, steps out into the waiting area and calls them aside, his face grim. Chin keeps a hand on Steve's arm, restraining him just by virtue of the light touch against his bicep.
"Where's Danny? Is he okay?"
The doctor flips a page on Danny's chart. "Your partner's doing pretty well, all things considered. He suffered a myocardial infarction, and while we're running a few more tests to confirm it, there's evidence of several previous mild infarctions."
Steve boggles. "I'm sorry, what? Danny's had more than one heart attack?"
"It's not uncommon. The symptoms were likely mild enough that he mistook them for something else, like heartburn or a simple muscle ache. He's resting comfortably now, but we'll be keeping him for several days until we're sure he's no longer at risk and the immediate treatments have run their course. Additionally, Detective Williams and I will consult on the best long-term course of action and treatment for him before he's discharged."
"So he's okay?" Steve doesn't bother hiding the relief in his voice.
The doctor smiles warmly at him. "Relatively speaking, yes. He's in intensive care, so I'm afraid only one visitor at a time for now, and only for a very short time. He'll need all his strength to recover."
"You go ahead," Chin nudges him gently between his shoulder blades. "You want me to call his ex-wife, let her know what happened?"
He shakes his head. "No, no I'll call her as soon as I've seen Danny, tell her myself. Thanks," he adds belatedly, feeling a little guilty as he realises just how much he's relied on Chin and Kono today without so much as acknowledging their efforts.
"Hey, no sweat, brah. You go on and take care of Danny, we've got your back." Chin claps him on the shoulder.
But once he's just outside the door to Danny's room, Steve finds himself hesitating. The lights have been dimmed a little inside and it's quiet, the only sound the quiet beeping of the machines keeping track of Danny's vital signs. They sound nice and even, at least, much to Steve's relief, nothing like the erratic flutter he remembers feeling under his fingers when he was trying to find Danny's pulse earlier. Come on, he tells himself sternly, man up. This is nothing compared to some of the missions he's been on before, after all. It's Danny, his partner and his best friend, and there is nothing in that room that he can't face if it's for Danny.
Danny doesn't stir when he walks in, careful not to make any noise. He looks even smaller than usual, his skin so pale it seems almost translucent in the dim lighting. Steve pulls up a chair, careful not to let it scrape against the floor in case the noise wakes Danny, sits next to the bed and lays one hand over Danny's, lying uncharacteristically still next to him on the bed. Steve is pretty sure this is the first time he's seen Danny without his hands in motion, and it feels all wrong. Unnatural.
"You scared the living hell out of me, Danno," he says softly. "You better bounce back from this, okay? I don't want to have to explain any of this to Rachel or Grace. Black-ops missions are one thing, but your ex-wife terrifies me."
To his surprise, Danny's hand shifts under his, and when he looks up he finds Danny smiling at him, eyes open and alert. "She sort of terrifies me too." His voice is weak, but it's all Danny, and Steve's pretty sure that his heart just did a backflip in his chest.
"Hey," is all he manages, a little stupidly.
"Hey yourself," Danny grins wider. "Did we get him? Everything's a little hazy right now. Think they got me on the good stuff."
"Yeah, we got him. Never mind that. How're you feeling?"
To his surprise, Danny lets out a giggle. "Pretty awesome. Actually, I think it's the morphine. Pretty sure I should be in a lot more pain than I am right now. Did I really have a heart attack?"
"Yup. Myocardial infarction. Textbook case. I guess you didn't eat enough salad after all."
Danny makes a face. "Grace will be disappointed."
Steve squeezes Danny's hand. "Grace will be happy you're okay. And then she'll be even happier to help you stay on track with your new health regimen after this. I won't quote statistics at you, but I'd really rather you were the exception to the rule and come back completely from this."
"Can't argue with that," Danny murmurs, eyelids drooping.
"You're not arguing with me? I'll have to write it down on my calendar," Steve grins, and is rewarded when Danny pulls his hand free to flip him off, although he doesn't open his eyes. "Okay, Danno. You get some rest, leave everything to me."
"Why does that worry me?"
Steve grins, even though Danny can't see him. "It shouldn't. You should know by now that I've got your back. We all do."
Danny's already mostly asleep. "'kay," he murmurs. "Thanks, Steve."
When he's sure Danny can't hear him anymore, Steve leans over the bed, pitches his voice low enough not to wake him. "Anytime, Danno. I hope you know that."
Summary: Written for the H50 h/c comment-fic meme that's going on right now at hawaii_50_hc, for a prompt by the lovely and talented sinnerforhire. Steve/Danny: Steve and Danny have to chase down a suspect. Afterwards, Steve brushes off Danny's comments about having chest pain and shortness of breath as his typical exaggerations--until Danny collapses.
Characters: Steve, Danny, with a side order of Chin and Kono
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: ~2,500
Disclaimer: Playing with CBS's toys while they're not looking.
Warnings: Nothing major. Minor spoilers for 1.23.
Neurotic Author's Note #1: Comment-fic, written in a hurry and unbeta'd. Also, I pulled most of the medical information here out of my... um... hat. Just FYI. Anything totally inaccurate is entirely my fault and, yeah, just try to suspend your disbelief a little, okay? :)
Neurotic Author's Note #2: I should really try to write something that doesn't involve whumping Danny, at some point, shouldn't I? I seem to do that a lot...
The thing is, it's just about the last thing Steve was expecting. For all that he likes to tease Danny about his overwhelming love for malasadas and give him a hard time about being out of shape, when it comes down to it, they both know that he's full of it. Sure, Danny might not be the tallest guy ever -in fact, "short" is the word that comes to mind even though Steve has enough of a sense of self-preservation never to use it to Danny's face- but he's strong, built for endurance rather than speed. Even so, he can still sprint with the best of them. Steve still has a vivid memory of Danny vaulting over the hood of a car to chase down a suspect, even if Danny denies it to this day, claiming Steve was out in the sun too long. The point is, Danny's got more than what it takes to be a member of Five-0, physically speaking, and that's one of the many reasons that Steve counts on him to have his back, all the time.
There's also the fact that, well, Danny bitches about just about everything. The heat, the sand, the ocean. Pineapples, most types of citrus. The fact that Grace wants him to eat more salad to keep his entirely hypothetical cholesterol down. Danny doesn't have a cholesterol problem, doesn't even have high blood pressure if you ignore his ranting about how Steve is bad for his overall cardiovascular health. Five-0 get routine physicals, just to be on the safe side, because Steve can't take the risk than one of his team might not be up to the job and therefore endanger all of them. He might be trained to endure more physical hardship than most, but the same doesn't go for the rest of his team, who are trained to be cops, not SEALs, and despite what Danny might have to say on the topic, Steve does keep that in mind.
That's mostly why, once they've chased down the latest perp and Steve has tackled him to the ground, he doesn't pay that much attention at first to Danny's grousing, busy as he is applying zip-ties to the perp's wrists.
"Swear to God, Steven," Danny pants next to him, folded in half and hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath, "one of these days… I'm going to let you… run the perps down by yourself." He stops, takes another breath. "I'm serious… what happened to… waiting for backup, like I asked?"
"He was going to get away," Steve points out reasonably. There was no reason to wait, not when the guy was on foot and easily pursued. "He's our best lead in the case. You want to book him, Danno?"
Danny shakes his head, wiping sweat from his face with his shirtsleeve. "Book him yourself… too busy having a heart attack, here…" he wheezes. His shirt is soaked with sweat under the arms and clinging to his back, revealing the outline of his undershirt, and to Steve's lasting surprise he actually reaches up and loosens his tie.
"One of these days you're going to have to learn to dress for the island, you know," he tells him. "You look stupid with a tie, and now you're overheating."
Danny straightens up a little and rolls his right shoulder as though he's trying to work out a kink in it, rubs at his arm with his left hand, still breathing hard. "Screw you."
"No one wears a tie in Hawaii, brah," the perp offers up from where Steve is still grinding his cheek into the asphalt, and Steve smacks him behind the head. "Hey, watch it! That's police brutality! I got rights!"
"No one asked for your opinion," Steve tells him sternly. "Keep your mouth shut unless you're planning on telling us everything you know about the deal that's going down next week."
Not surprisingly, the perp has nothing to say to that. Steve turns back to Danny to reiterate his request -because, really, booking the bad guys is Danny's God-given right, and Steve won't take that away from him unless he really has to- and stops short when he sees Danny still rubbing at his shoulder, his expression pinched.
"Hey, Danno, you okay?"
Danny shakes his head, and Steve feels his stomach clench unpleasantly. "I dunno… I can't catch my breath," he says faintly, and the next thing Steve knows his knees are buckling and he lands hard on the ground.
Steve is at his side in a split-second, his prisoner forgotten on the ground. He grabs his radio just long enough to bark "Officer down!" and his exact location, pulls Danny toward him until he's got him propped up, one hand at his back. "Come on, Danno, talk to me. Did you get hit?" He doesn't remember the perp firing, and he doesn't see blood, but nothing else is springing to mind right now that could be causing this. He presses two fingers to the artery in Danny's neck, feels his pulse flutter erratically under his fingertips,
Danny just shakes his head again. "Can't breathe right," he manages, right hand balling into a fist and rubbing at his chest. "Shit… really hurts."
It's like the sarin incident all over again, and Steve is pretty sure he can't take the idea of Danny dying any better now than he did then. "Okay, I got paramedics on the way. You just keep breathing, you hear me? Danny!" he gives him a little shake when Danny's eyes threaten to close. "You stay with me, now. Come on, breathe."
To his surprise, a smile tugs at the corner of Danny's lips. "Damn… can't believe… I'm actually having a heart attack... irony's gonna kill me…"
"Hey," Steve shakes him again when his eyes do close, but this time Danny doesn't respond to his voice, going still in his arms, breathing even more laboured. "Danny! Danny, come on! Stay with me, Danny!"
The siren he wasn't paying attention to before suddenly wails right behind him, and a moment later he's being moved aside by paramedics, one of whom starts barking questions at him while the other rips open Danny's shirt and cuts through the fabric of his undershirt with a pair of scissors. He blinks for a second, gathers his composure, starts listing off the symptoms he remembers: pain, sweating, shortness of breath, and before he can even finish his sentence they're taping the electrodes of a portable defibrillator to Danny's chest.
"Clear!"
It's never like they show in the movies. Danny barely moves while the shock is delivered, and even though it looks like nothing has happened, Steve is relieved to note that no second shock is administered. One of the paramedics places a mask over Danny's mouth and begins compressing the plastic bag attached to it by a valve, and Steve loses sight of them as they load Danny onto a gurney into the back of the ambulance.
Chin and Kono catch up with Steve a few minutes later, just long enough to help him put the perp into HPD's capable hands before Steve does something they'll all regret.
"You go on ahead to the hospital, boss," Kono tells him. "We'll meet you there, soon as we've got him squared away."
Steve nods, barely registering what she's saying before he's getting behind the wheel of Danny's Camaro and driving at speeds that would normally have Danny bitching at the top of his lungs about safety and the rule of law and his very ardent desire not to leave his daughter orphaned at the tender age of eight. Shit. Steve tightens his grip on the wheel, finds a parking spot close enough to the emergency room doors that it's probably illegal, but he'll happily use his privileges this time if it gets him news of Danny faster. He sprints to the front desk, only to find himself thwarted by an entirely unflappable receptionist who simply hands him a clipboard with forms and a pen and instructions to sit and be patient until the doctor comes to talk to him.
"Your partner is being treated," she repeats firmly when he tries to get past her. "We have the highest standards of medical care here. Please have a seat, fill out the forms, and someone will be out to inform you of his condition as soon as possible. Please sit, Commander. No, I realize who you are, but I'm afraid only authorised medical personnel can go past this point," she steps in front of the double doors and glares at him, shoving the clipboard against his chest. "Have a seat. Thank you."
He doesn't sit, but it's a small act of rebellion in the face of everything else that's spiralled out of his control today. He can't bring himself to focus on any of the paperwork, is ridiculously relieved when Chin and Kono finally make an appearance and remove the clipboard and the now-broken pen from his grasp. They put up better with his anxious pacing than the rest of the hospital staff, and Chin steps in automatically to run interference before the receptionist drives her metal ruler right through Steve's forehead out of frustration.
It feels like days have gone by before the doctor, an older man in a slightly rumpled white coat, steps out into the waiting area and calls them aside, his face grim. Chin keeps a hand on Steve's arm, restraining him just by virtue of the light touch against his bicep.
"Where's Danny? Is he okay?"
The doctor flips a page on Danny's chart. "Your partner's doing pretty well, all things considered. He suffered a myocardial infarction, and while we're running a few more tests to confirm it, there's evidence of several previous mild infarctions."
Steve boggles. "I'm sorry, what? Danny's had more than one heart attack?"
"It's not uncommon. The symptoms were likely mild enough that he mistook them for something else, like heartburn or a simple muscle ache. He's resting comfortably now, but we'll be keeping him for several days until we're sure he's no longer at risk and the immediate treatments have run their course. Additionally, Detective Williams and I will consult on the best long-term course of action and treatment for him before he's discharged."
"So he's okay?" Steve doesn't bother hiding the relief in his voice.
The doctor smiles warmly at him. "Relatively speaking, yes. He's in intensive care, so I'm afraid only one visitor at a time for now, and only for a very short time. He'll need all his strength to recover."
"You go ahead," Chin nudges him gently between his shoulder blades. "You want me to call his ex-wife, let her know what happened?"
He shakes his head. "No, no I'll call her as soon as I've seen Danny, tell her myself. Thanks," he adds belatedly, feeling a little guilty as he realises just how much he's relied on Chin and Kono today without so much as acknowledging their efforts.
"Hey, no sweat, brah. You go on and take care of Danny, we've got your back." Chin claps him on the shoulder.
But once he's just outside the door to Danny's room, Steve finds himself hesitating. The lights have been dimmed a little inside and it's quiet, the only sound the quiet beeping of the machines keeping track of Danny's vital signs. They sound nice and even, at least, much to Steve's relief, nothing like the erratic flutter he remembers feeling under his fingers when he was trying to find Danny's pulse earlier. Come on, he tells himself sternly, man up. This is nothing compared to some of the missions he's been on before, after all. It's Danny, his partner and his best friend, and there is nothing in that room that he can't face if it's for Danny.
Danny doesn't stir when he walks in, careful not to make any noise. He looks even smaller than usual, his skin so pale it seems almost translucent in the dim lighting. Steve pulls up a chair, careful not to let it scrape against the floor in case the noise wakes Danny, sits next to the bed and lays one hand over Danny's, lying uncharacteristically still next to him on the bed. Steve is pretty sure this is the first time he's seen Danny without his hands in motion, and it feels all wrong. Unnatural.
"You scared the living hell out of me, Danno," he says softly. "You better bounce back from this, okay? I don't want to have to explain any of this to Rachel or Grace. Black-ops missions are one thing, but your ex-wife terrifies me."
To his surprise, Danny's hand shifts under his, and when he looks up he finds Danny smiling at him, eyes open and alert. "She sort of terrifies me too." His voice is weak, but it's all Danny, and Steve's pretty sure that his heart just did a backflip in his chest.
"Hey," is all he manages, a little stupidly.
"Hey yourself," Danny grins wider. "Did we get him? Everything's a little hazy right now. Think they got me on the good stuff."
"Yeah, we got him. Never mind that. How're you feeling?"
To his surprise, Danny lets out a giggle. "Pretty awesome. Actually, I think it's the morphine. Pretty sure I should be in a lot more pain than I am right now. Did I really have a heart attack?"
"Yup. Myocardial infarction. Textbook case. I guess you didn't eat enough salad after all."
Danny makes a face. "Grace will be disappointed."
Steve squeezes Danny's hand. "Grace will be happy you're okay. And then she'll be even happier to help you stay on track with your new health regimen after this. I won't quote statistics at you, but I'd really rather you were the exception to the rule and come back completely from this."
"Can't argue with that," Danny murmurs, eyelids drooping.
"You're not arguing with me? I'll have to write it down on my calendar," Steve grins, and is rewarded when Danny pulls his hand free to flip him off, although he doesn't open his eyes. "Okay, Danno. You get some rest, leave everything to me."
"Why does that worry me?"
Steve grins, even though Danny can't see him. "It shouldn't. You should know by now that I've got your back. We all do."
Danny's already mostly asleep. "'kay," he murmurs. "Thanks, Steve."
When he's sure Danny can't hear him anymore, Steve leans over the bed, pitches his voice low enough not to wake him. "Anytime, Danno. I hope you know that."