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Sympathy for the werewolf	By : mermaidnz Category: G through L > Hawaii Five-0 (2010) > Hawaii Five-0 (2010) Views: 3438 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-0, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
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After Danny's intense conversation with Steve that November night, things mostly go back to usual. Mindful of Steve's dire warnings, Danny makes a point of treating his partner just the same as ever over the next few weeks: criticizing his crazy stunts and disdain for police procedure, complaining about his driving, and mocking his choice of pizza toppings. But he still backs Steve 100% when it matters, and hangs out with him as much as before.

Steve, on the other hand, does change his behavior. He stands closer to Danny, even when they're arguing, and initiates way more physical contact. Steve touches Danny's wrist to get his attention, claps him on the shoulder to congratulate him on a breakthrough, and cups the back of his neck after a particularly awful case.

In a normal person, Danny would read all that as flirtation. Steve is far from normal, though, and fuck knows what might be happening in his head. Danny could ask, but he's afraid of revealing his own feelings by doing so. If Steve hasn't guessed yet, then he's not about to tell. They've reached a new, deeper level of friendship, and Danny needs some time to adjust before even considering the next step.

The moon moves through its cycle, like always. When it gets to the three-quarter stage, Danny watches Steve closely. Now that he knows what to look for, the itch under Steve's skin is obvious. He's tense and irritable; he minimizes his social interaction outside of work; and he goes for long, punishing runs and swims.

But when Danny picks Steve up the morning after the full moon, he looks tired but fundamentally okay. Danny silently blesses those Russian scientists who developed 'Formula 2912'. Thanks to their efforts, Steve is saved from a terrible monthly ordeal.

***

It's a Friday night, six weeks after their mutual coming out, and the two of them are having dinner at an expensive Honolulu restaurant. Steve had wanted to go there, saying he had a craving for their famous seafood platter, and cajoled Danny into coming by promising to buy him whatever he wanted.

After making Steve pull out his credit card as proof of intent, Danny takes him up on the offer. He orders surf 'n' turf, which includes a huge steak cooked to perfection, followed by the most incredible tiramisu he's ever eaten. When Danny admits that even his favorite Italian place in Jersey couldn't have done better, Steve's smile is bright and beautiful.

It's pouring down by the time they finish eating, so they hurry across the poorly-lit parking lot behind the restaurant. And then a man appears from between two parked SUVs and shoots Steve.

It happens so fast that Danny feels dizzy. He has his own weapon in hand a second later, muscle memory overriding shock, but he's momentarily blinded by the muzzle flash. By the time Danny's vision is clear, the perp is already running like hell. Firing at a moving target on a dark night, in an urban area, would risk disastrous collateral damage. Anyway, the shooter is not his first priority.

Steve has fallen to the ground and is just lying there, silent and still.

Danny holsters his gun and drops to his knees, yelling for someone to call 911. Steve is alive and conscious, thank God, blinking up at the sky as raindrops spatter his skin.

Ripping open Steve's shirt, Danny finds blood streaming out of the bullet hole in his chest. Fuck, this looks bad. He immediately pulls off his own shirt to stanch the flow; the sight of Steve's blood soaking into the white fabric is sickeningly vivid. There's another pool of blood spreading from underneath Steve's head. Danny prays that it's from a simple scalp laceration and not a sign of something worse.

Danny wants to swear, or cry, but recalls from his first aid training that keeping the patient calm is essential. So he murmurs reassuring nonsense to Steve while trying to assess his condition.

He knows he shouldn't roll Steve over, in case there are spinal injuries. Instead, Danny carefully slides one hand under Steve's back to search for an exit wound. There's none that he can feel, meaning the bullet is still in his body.

The blood bubbling out of the chest wound and Steve's increasingly labored breathing suggest lung damage, at the very least. The entry wound is on Steve's right side, between his nipple and sternum, but there's a chance that the bullet has ricocheted off bone and lodged in his heart. If that's true, then Steve could bleed to death right here.

One of the restaurant's waiters runs across the parking lot to tell Danny that the paramedics and police are on their way. Danny orders him to go find clean towels, plastic wrap, and some kind of adhesive tape. When the guy returns with the supplies, Danny fashions a makeshift dressing and applies it to Steve's chest, holding it in place with a wadded-up towel.

Steve's coughing and gasping for air now. Even if he wasn't the most stoic man on the planet, he probably wouldn't have the lung capacity to scream in pain.

He lifts one shaking hand to touch Danny's arm, and mumbles, "S'rry."

"Hey, no – don't say that. You're gonna be fine, babe. Don't talk; just stay with me." Danny can't take Steve's hand because he has to maintain pressure on the bandage, but he bends lower over Steve's face. "I got you, okay?"

"I shoulda b'n braver," Steve whispers breathlessly, like he didn't hear any of that. His lips are blood-flecked and his eyes are unfocused, though Danny's just inches above him. Shit, he's fading away.

Danny hears the welcome sound of approaching sirens.

"What are you talking about? You're the bravest person I know! I think the only guy braver than you is Rambo. And he's in the fucking Army, right? So obviously you gotta be braver than him, just on general principle..." Danny keeps talking, saying anything that comes to mind, trying to keep Steve awake.

But Steve's eyes slowly close, and his hand falls away.

***

Danny's mind is playing tricks on him. Everything since the gunshot has been on fast-forward. Now that Steve's lost consciousness, time has slowed to a crawl.

Though the ambulance gets there a minute later, Danny wants to scream abuse at the driver for taking too long. All of Oahu's paramedics know Steve and Danny by now, so they don't even try to stop him riding along. Wet and shivering under a blanket, half-naked since his shirt is a blood-soaked ruin, Danny watches helplessly as the paramedics work to keep Steve alive.

They're not too far from Honolulu's main hospital, thankfully, and Steve is rushed into the OR as soon as they arrive. Danny is left standing in a corridor, feeling the world tilt around him.

Danny answers questions in a daze, and fills out forms as best he can. An orderly finds an old oversized t-shirt for him to wear; it smells of disinfectant, but at least it helps keep him warm. Time goes elastic again as Danny paces around the ER waiting area.

He doesn't remember calling his teammates and the Governor. Someone must have, though, because they all show up. Chin looks calm, like always, but his fists are clenched. Kono hugs Danny tightly, and he can feel her body trembling. Governor Jameson must have been at a formal function when she got the news, because she sweeps in wearing a glittering dress and a 'don't fuck with me' expression.

Danny tells them what happened, but there's frustratingly little to go on. The parking lot was pretty dark, so he just saw the outline of the shooter's body and not his face. The guy was about 5'10", average build, dressed in black and wearing a dark-colored baseball cap. It could be almost anyone, from that description. Hell, it might have been a woman for all Danny knows.

The weapon was definitely a handgun, though – probably a semi-automatic, since Danny thinks he heard a shell casing hit the ground. He hopes the CSU techs have retrieved it.

The perp hadn't said a word, no threats or accusations, but it seems likely that he was aiming for Steve. Danny was in his usual white shirt while Steve's was navy blue, so Danny would've made a much clearer target if the asshole just wanted to shoot someone indiscriminately.

There are many people who want Steve dead, including international terrorists and organized crime bosses. Victor Hesse could have arranged a hit from jail, and then there's Hiro Noshimuri who Steve arrested a couple of weeks ago. If Noshimuri himself isn't seeking revenge, maybe whoever's taken over the local yakuza decided to make a splash.

With Steve down, Danny is head of Five-0. Since he can't bear to leave the hospital, he delegates.

"Guys, listen. I know it's rough, but I need you to go work with HPD on this."

Kono clearly wants to stay here; she bites her lip, though, and nods. Her cousin looks grimly determined, and Danny's aware that this could be hard for him. Chin hasn't had to take point on a joint investigation before.

The Governor knows Chin's history, and she picks up on his tension. "If your old colleagues give you any trouble, let me know. I will set a fire under their collective asses, believe you me."

Chin hasn't dealt directly with the Governor before, so he's not used to her plain speaking approach. He blinks at her, and says, "Yes, ma'am."

Governor Jameson checks her watch and says, "I'm so sorry, but I have to get back to the charity gala. I wish you luck in hunting down this bastard; you have my full backing." She clasps Danny's shoulder briefly, then leaves.

"One more thing," Danny says. "The shooter could have been a random maniac, or a professional assassin. We just don't know. But if he finds out that Steve survived and will recover" – power of positive thinking, Danny tells himself – "he might try again. So ask HPD to set a constant guard on Steve, starting immediately."

Nodding, Chin immediately gets out his phone to arrange it. Kono takes Danny's hand and places a St. Michael medal, his graduation gift to her, in his palm.

"I thought you could use a double dose of protection," she says.

It's a small act of kindness that almost makes Danny break down, when so far he's held it together. But he blinks back the tears, because there's a long way to go yet. He pulls Kono close, resting his head on her shoulder, and whispers, "Thank you."

Chin finishes his call, and heads off with Kono to the crime scene. It's hard for Danny to think of the restaurant like that, after he and Steve had such a great evening there. Steve was happy and relaxed, thanks in part to him drinking more than usual. And something about the way he looked at Danny suggested that yeah, maybe it was time to consider the next step.

Now Danny's waiting to hear if Steve will survive the night.

He shouldn't be as worried as the others are. Unlike them, Danny knows that Steve is more resilient than any standard-issue human and can heal faster too. There had been no acrid smoke coming off the wound, which means the bullet wasn't silver. So he's got good cause to believe that Steve will be okay, despite suffering such serious physical trauma.

But if (when) Steve pulls through, there'll be other reasons to worry. What if lycanthropy shows up in his blood tests, somehow? And what if he recovers so rapidly that the doctors get suspicious? Bullshitting about a fast metabolism resulting in fast healing had fooled Danny, but it might not work on people with medical training.

Maybe Danny should notify one of the military hospitals on the island, and get Steve transferred. He isn't sure whether the medics there would know about this stuff, though, and he'd sworn on Gracie's life never to reveal Steve's secret.

Steve goes to Walter Reed in D.C. for his annual check-up, so maybe Danny should call Dr. Alexander instead. But what can he say to her? He's not supposed to know that werewolves exist, and Steve had feared nasty consequences for them both if anyone in the military even suspected that Danny had learned the truth. Anyway...what could the Army specialists do for Steve right now that the Hawaiian doctors can't?

So Danny waits, and worries, and prays.

***

Sometime later, one of his favorite nurses approaches with a clipboard in her hand and a sympathetic look on her face. Leilani knows Danny from his many previous hospital visits, both as a patient and as the frustrated guy telling Steve to sit the hell down and let the ER staff patch him up.

She's high up on Danny's top ten list, cheerful and caring as well as stunningly hot, and usually he'd do a little friendly flirting. This time, Danny can't even muster up a smile for her.

"Sorry to bug you again, Detective," she says, "but you've put on this form that Commander McGarrett isn't taking any regular medication. Are you sure about that?"

God, Danny hates lying to people he likes and respects: first Kumiko, then Chin, and now Leilani. There's no alternative, though. Not if he wants to protect Steve.

"Pretty sure," Danny claims. "I looked in his bathroom cabinet when I was over there last weekend and needed something for my headache. I didn't notice any prescription drugs."

Leilani raises one eyebrow at him; like cops, ER staff must develop an effective bullshit detector. She doesn't call him on it, though.

"Okay," she says. "Can you please go to his place and double-check? If he is taking anything, we need to know as soon as possible."

Danny is reluctant to leave the hospital while Steve's in surgery, but Leilani tells him that it could take several more hours. And there are now two HPD officers stationed outside the OR, guys that Danny knows and has a reasonable level of faith in.

His car is still in the restaurant parking lot, so Danny gets a cab over to Steve's house and lets himself in. He looks in all the obvious places but finds no prescription bottles, and no over-the-counter drugs apart from standard painkillers.

Some interesting things do turn up when Danny checks the bedside table, though. The silicone lube and extra strong condoms in the top drawer might or might not mean anything about Steve's sexual preferences. It's actually reassuring to know that despite all his reckless behavior in other regards, Steve plays it safe in the bedroom.

But Steve's collection of visual aids is far more revealing. On top of the pile is a gay porn magazine, and on the cover is a blond blue-eyed man who kinda looks like Danny.

Feeling light-headed, Danny sits down on the edge of the bed and stares at the magazine. He wants to pick it up, and test whether it falls open to the blond man's photo spread; he wants to go through the magazines to see if they're all gay porn, or if there are also some featuring naked women.

Instead, he shuts the drawer. Looking in there was justifiable as part of a search carried out under medical orders, but he can't invade Steve's privacy any further. Anyway, he knows enough now.

Danny heads back to the hospital and reports the apparent lack of medication to Leilani, then gets a cup of so-called coffee from the vending machine and steels himself for yet more waiting. He calls Kono, to tell her that there's been no news and to get an update on the investigation.

Chin is still at the scene, interviewing people, but so far it seems like there were no witnesses to the shooting. The restaurant's interior was too brightly-lit for diners to see much outside, the rain was so heavy that nobody was lingering in the parking lot, and none of the kitchen staff were taking a cigarette break out back at that crucial moment.

And Kono has more bad news: although there's a security camera mounted on the restaurant's exterior wall, it's been broken for weeks. Danny grinds his teeth, and mentally schedules a not-so-polite conversation with the place's owner about that and about the poor lighting out in the lot. If they'd seen the gunman in advance, Steve would've had a much better chance of defending himself.

There are surveillance cameras covering the surrounding streets, however, and Kono's about to start reviewing the footage with HPD's tech guys. She promises to let Danny know if they get any decent leads.

"Have you called Steve's sister?" Kono asks, and shit – no, he hasn't.

"I don't have her number," Danny says. "I need Steve's phone."

Danny stops Leilani the next time she walks past, and asks her to find out what happened to the clothes Steve was wearing. Ten minutes later, she comes back with Steve's bloodstained clothes in a large plastic evidence bag and his personal belongings in a smaller one. The phone is intact and clean, luckily, so Danny makes the call.

Mary had flown back to the mainland only two weeks ago. California is several hours ahead of Hawaii, so her voice is thick with sleep when she picks up. "Steve?"

"Mary, this is Danny Williams," he says.

"Oh, shit – what's happened?" Suddenly she sounds wide awake.

"Steve's been shot and he's in surgery," he tells her. "It's serious, but I'm hopeful that he'll pull through."

"Do you know who did it?"

"Not yet," Danny admits, "but we're doing our best."

"God, I wish I could fly out there," Mary says, her tone frustrated. "But I just started a new job, and I can't risk losing it."

"I swear, Mary, you'll be the first person I call once I know more. You're safer in LA than here, so I think Steve would want you to stay put."

After he finishes talking to Mary, Danny enters her number into his own phone. Then he scrolls through Steve's contact list in case there's anyone else he should notify.

When he gets to Catherine, he pauses. Danny doesn't know where in the world she is, but he doubts she could just leave her aircraft carrier and fly to Steve's bedside. So there's probably no point in calling her right now, and worrying her unnecessarily. He'll get in touch once there's some definite news.

A few entries down, he sees his own name and face. Steve must have snapped the photo without Danny's knowledge, because he's looking off to the side instead of at the camera. Danny is willing to bet he was gazing at Grace at the time, because his expression is soft, happy, and full of love.

It's strange to see himself this way, and it's even stranger that Steve would choose this image to represent a friend and colleague. Danny can only think of one explanation: that Steve wants Danny to look at him like that.

Once Steve wakes up, the two of them are going to have a good long talk.

***

When a tired-looking man in scrubs walks across the waiting room, an eternity later, Danny stands up and clutches Kono's St. Michael medal so tight that it hurts his palm.

"The surgery was successful, and Commander McGarrett has been moved to the ICU," the surgeon tells him, and Danny exhales. "The bullet broke two ribs, collapsed his right lung, and caused serious internal bleeding. He's otherwise fit and healthy, so he's likely to recover. There was no skull fracture, but he has suffered a concussion. We won't know for certain if there was any lasting neurological damage until he regains consciousness."

Now that the agonizing wait for news is over, Danny abruptly feels the full weight of his physical and mental exhaustion. He forces himself to focus.

"Thank you so much, doctor. Were you able to retrieve the bullet?"

"Yes," the surgeon says. He hands over a small evidence bag containing a hollow-point round, which Danny thinks might have been a 9mm. The tip has mushroomed, but the base looks intact enough for CSU to get some ballistic data off it.

"Great, that should be very useful for our investigation," Danny says. "Can I see him now, please?"

"He's heavily sedated, but you can sit with him."

After calling Mary, Chin and Kono to update them, Danny heads upstairs. He's spent a lot of time in this ICU, interviewing patients. But now that the person in critical condition is someone he truly cares for, Danny looks at all the high-tech medical intervention through new eyes.

Danny's used to Steve being in motion; even when still, the guy seems ready to spring into action in a split second. So it seems utterly unnatural for him to be lying unconscious in a hospital bed, deathly pale and hooked up to machines.

Pulling a chair closer to the bed, Danny stares silently for a while. Steve's torso is bare, the right half of his chest bandaged with a drainage tube sticking out the side. There's a breathing tube down his throat, an IV line in his right hand, and wires and sensors everywhere.

It's a heartbreaking sight.

The back of Steve's head is bandaged too, thanks to his six-foot fall onto unforgiving asphalt. Danny can't bear to contemplate what the impact may have done to Steve's brain, so he just focuses on the beloved face before him.

"Hey, partner," he murmurs. "You're not looking so good, huh? God, I can't believe your bad luck. You survived a whole string of war zones and moved to the suburbs of this so-called paradise, and people are still trying to kill you on a regular basis. I myself feel mildly homicidal towards you at least once a week, don't get me wrong, but –"

Danny's weak attempt at humor dries up, and raw emotion bleeds through. "You can't do this to me, Steve," he says, leaning forward. "Things are so good between us, now, and I'm pretty sure we both want more. We just need the time to work it out. So please, hold on."

The only part of Steve that he can safely touch is his left arm. Danny bows his head and rests it against the warm skin of Steve's wrist.

"Please," he whispers.

***

Steve spends the next few days intubated and sedated.

Danny spends most of that time by his side. He naps fitfully – first in a chair, and then on a cot set up in the corner of Steve's room. The ICU nurses offer him some sleeping pills, but Danny doesn't want to risk missing anything. Despite the two cops on guard outside, there's still a chance the shooter could sneak in. And Danny hates the thought of Steve waking up without a familiar face there to comfort him.

CSU does a rush job on the bullet and shell casing. When Kono comes by on Saturday morning, she reports that Danny was right: the round was fired from a 9mm semi-automatic, probably a Glock. The ballistic data doesn't match anything on file, in Hawaii or on the mainland. So it's likely that the gun was new, or had never been used in a crime before.

The crime scene interviews didn't provide anything helpful, but Chin's tracked down diners who'd been at the restaurant prior to the shooting. Thanks to the bad weather, most people were too focused on getting into the building or into their vehicle to notice anything unusual.

Finally, though, Chin gets a break. An elderly couple report seeing a man dressed in black loitering in the far corner of the lot as they walked to their car, but it was too dark for them to make out his features.

That was maybe half an hour before Steve and Danny left the restaurant, pretty much confirming Danny's fear that Steve was specifically targeted. If the perp just wanted to shoot someone at random, why wait so long in the rain while other potential victims – almost certainly unarmed – came and went? Still, it could be a serial killer with a very definite type, or a psycho who picked out Steve for some reason known only to himself.

None of these possibilities help Danny to sleep any easier.

There was nothing useful from the surveillance cameras in the immediate vicinity, which in itself is quite telling. The perp apparently jumped the fence behind the restaurant, something only a tall athletic person could have managed, then cut through the lots of several adjacent buildings and entered a network of alleyways. From there, he could have gone in any direction; it'll take many hours of work for HPD to check all the cameras in the wider area, and the guy could easily had a change of clothes or a vehicle stashed in one of the alleys. So he either knew the district very well, or had done recon in advance.

"I'm still not convinced that the shooter was a pro," Danny says to Chin Saturday night, as they watch the ventilator breathe for Steve. Visiting hours are long over, but Danny's habit of always being friendly to hospital staff is paying off now; the ICU nurses let Chin in.

Chin cocks an eyebrow at him. "Why not? He managed to inflict a life-threatening wound on a moving target, with a handgun, from at least 15 feet away. That's impressive, given the ambient conditions at the time."

"Yeah, okay, he's clearly got some skills. But I've seen my share of Mob hits, back in Jersey," Danny explains. "An assassin would most likely go for a double tap, with the second shot either center mass or to the head. And he'd be fast, confident of putting Steve down before either of us even had the chance to react. He wouldn't just fire once, and then run off without seeing how badly Steve was hurt!"

"Right, I see what you mean. And doing it in a public place, with potential witnesses and without a silencer, seems either incredibly brazen or stupidly sloppy," Chin agrees. "Not to mention the risk of ambushing an armed, highly trained soldier with an armed, highly experienced cop right beside him. A professional would have either taken you both out from a safe distance, using a more accurate weapon, or waited to get Steve alone."

"So someone with firearms experience, but more bravado than actual kills to his name. That probably rules out law enforcement or military," Danny says. He'd hate to be dealing with another of Steve's old comrades; Nick Taylor was bad enough.

"It could be an ambitious lowlife, trying to rise up through the ranks," Chin suggests. "Taking out the head of Five-0 would give him great bragging rights."

"Yeah, maybe. If he wasn't working for Hesse or Noshimuri, he could have been trying to impress another major player on the island who fears we're coming for him next. Okay, so that's one scenario," Danny says. "But we shouldn't rule out the possibility that it might be more personal. Maybe someone connected to a local perp Steve took down is out for revenge?"

"I'll go through our old files and see if anything pops," Chin says. "I'll also check with some of my former C.I.s, in case anyone's been talking about a planned hit on Steve."

Chin leaves, and Danny prepares for another restless night. But he's so tired that he actually manages a few hours' sleep. The regular sounds of the machines and monitors are surprisingly soothing, telling Danny that Steve's alive and safe and just a few feet away.

He wasn't due to have Grace this weekend; for once, Danny's glad of that fact. But he calls Rachel on Sunday morning to tell her what's happened. Steve had made a good impression on her during that triathlon case, and she expresses sympathy. Danny remembers Rachel's constant fear, during their marriage, that he would be killed or severely injured on the job. Now he understands her perspective a little better.

Rachel puts Grace on the phone, because Danny desperately needs to hear her sweet voice. He lets his daughter's chatter about a friend's birthday party wash over him, like a balm for his aching heart. Then he explains as best he can that Uncle Steve is hurt and needs Danny to look after him. Grace tells Danny to give Steve a hug for her. He swallows hard, and promises that he will.

Steve is still unconscious that afternoon, so Danny asks Kono to come sit with him and then takes a cab to go pick up his car. The weekend's thunderstorms have washed away Steve's blood from the restaurant's parking lot, and Danny has a moment of irrational fury: something so important should leave an indelible mark.

But he gets in the car, and drives home for a much-needed shower and shave. Wearing clean clothes, and with more packed into an overnight bag, Danny returns to the hospital two hours later to resume his vigil.

***

Steve wakes up just before noon on Monday. First his fingertips twitch, then his eyelids flicker.

Danny's sitting beside him, drinking his second coffee of the morning. It tastes terrible, but it's hot and strong enough to get the job done. When he sees Steve move, Danny stands up and leans over him.

"Hey, partner," he breathes.

Steve's eyes open wide, and the cardiac monitor picks up. Fearing that he'll panic and do himself more damage, Danny quickly says, "Don't move, okay? You're in the ICU, but you're going to be fine."

All the machines start beeping like crazy, and Danny presses the emergency call button on the wall. "You gotta stay calm, Steve, please."

A doctor and two nurses rush in, and Danny moves back to let them work. After checking Steve over, Dr. Young tells him that he's undergone surgery for a gunshot wound to the chest and has also suffered a concussion.

She seems shocked that he's awake, and Danny gets the strong impression that Steve wasn't supposed to regain consciousness yet. Maybe his lycanthropy-enhanced metabolism means the sedatives wore off quicker than they usually would.

Steve settles down a little but still seems agitated, his eyes continually flicking over to where Danny is standing. The doctor is about to sedate him again, presumably with a stronger dose, so this could be Danny's only chance.

"Please, wait," he says. "Commander McGarrett might have vital information about the gunman, who's still at large. I have to talk to him, to see if he can give me anything. Just a few minutes, and then you can do whatever you need to do."

Dr. Young looks unhappy, but agrees. She and the nurses leave, and Danny moves back to Steve's side.

"Hey babe, I'm here. It's okay." He takes Steve's left hand, meaning to give it a reassuring squeeze, but Steve pulls out of Danny's grasp. Danny would be offended, but then he realizes that Steve is trying to communicate.

Steve makes a circle with his thumb and forefinger. Danny initially thinks it's the universal symbol for 'okay', but then Steve starts holding up his fingers: 'Two. Five. Four. One. Two.'

When Danny works out what this all means, it feels like he's the one with a hole in his chest.

The full moon. '2912'.

...shit. With everything that's happened, Danny has completely lost track of the lunar cycle. It's the rainy season, anyway, so there hasn't been a clear night for a while.

But thinking back, Danny realizes that it's been at least three weeks since the last full moon. If so, then Steve is now overdue for his monthly dose of suppressive therapy.

Danny stares at Steve, horrified. "Oh, Christ," he whispers. "Your pills."

Steve raises his eyebrows – ah, right, he's using the code they worked out for talking about lycanthropy. At least his brain seems to be functioning okay.

"You were shot on Friday, and it's Monday now," Danny tells him. "What happens if you don't take the full seven-day course? Will the drug still work?"

Steve wrinkles his nose and squeezes his eyes shut, giving Danny the answer he was dreading. The stabbing sensation in Danny's chest intensifies. He'd thought that seeing Steve get shot was bad enough, but this is a nightmare.

"Fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry," Danny says brokenly. "I should've been keeping track for you. I should've found a way to get you the pills."

Steve opens his eyes, reaches for Danny's hand, and pats it like he doesn't blame Danny. Danny sure as hell blames himself, but right now he has to keep it together.

"All right, listen. Do you want me to call the doctors at Walter Reed?"

Steve wrinkles his nose. "Do you want me to call anyone in the military?" Danny presses, to be certain, and Steve repeats the negative response.

"Okay." Danny takes a deep breath. "So if you're going to transform, you can't do it here. We've got to get you out of hospital, and into some kind of safe room."

Steve raises his eyebrows, and tears well in his eyes; Danny doesn't know if they're due to pain or fear. Then Steve tilts Danny's hand up so he can start shaping letters on the palm.

'B-A-S-E-M –'

"The basement at your house?" Danny interrupts. Steve confirms this, and Danny has to admit it's a good idea. He's been down there just once, when they used it as a hiding place for General Pak and his family. It's a decent-sized space, windowless and only accessible via that one entrance under the main staircase. But the door at the top of the steps is made of wood, and the room is full of junk.

"We'd need to make some renovations, pronto, to make sure you can't escape or get hurt," Danny says. Steve traces a dollar sign onto Danny's hand, then points at himself. Danny doesn't doubt that it will cost a fortune to have a safe room created at such short notice, and he hopes Steve's right about being able to afford it.

Danny thinks fast: how would he design a holding cell for a cunning and dangerous wild animal? He's thankful now for all those hours spent watching Animal Planet with Grace, because some of the shows followed the work of zookeepers handling big carnivores.

"We'd need a super reinforced door into the house, lockable from the outside, plus maybe a door with iron bars at the bottom of the steps. Does that sound like enough?"

Steve raises his eyebrows, then spells out 'C-C-T-V'. Hell, he wants Danny to be able to watch and hear him while he's transformed. It makes sense, but it's a horrifying thought.

"Right. How many days 'til the full moon?" Danny asks, and Steve holds up five fingers.

"Okay, so we don't have much time. I'm gonna go call some contractors now and get them started ASAP," Danny says. "I swear to you, I'll do everything I can to make this work."

Steve lifts his hand up to his chin, and then moves it away like he's blowing a kiss. Danny recognizes the gesture; it's ASL for 'thank you'.

"You're welcome," he replies softly, capturing Steve's hand again and holding it between both of his.

Danny can see the doctor standing outside Steve's room, looking impatient. "One last thing," he says. "We haven't caught the guy who shot you yet. I didn't get a good look at him, so we don't have much to go on. Do you have any idea who it was?"

Steve shrugs, wincing as the movement pulls at his dressings.

"We'll get him," Danny promises. "Just concentrate on getting better, and leave the detective work to us real cops."

Steve's eyebrow raise could mean 'sure', but Danny chooses to read it as 'you sayin' I'm not a real cop?'

Danny flashes Steve a grin, squeezes his hand once more, and says, "I'll be back later. Don't fight the ICU staff, okay – they're trying to help."

He opens the door and tells Dr. Young, "Thanks for waiting, doctor. He's all yours." Then Danny walks down the corridor without looking back.
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Sympathy for the werewolf