What We Bury

By: Ridley

Beta: Tidia

A/N: Happy Halloween! Hope this is just the right sized treat for everyone. Thanks so much to those who have commented and made my first hand at a multi-chapter fic in this verse so enjoyable. Every review, alert, and favorite was very appreciated! Thanks to my beta and friend, Tidia who made this story much better than it would have been without all her suggestions and editing.

Also, I am no doctor. My limited experience with coma survivors is gleaned from a family member and a few cross over classes in behavioral medicine. I tried to keep this believable, but stretched it I'm sure all in the name of creative liberty.

When the world says, "Give up,"
Hope whispers, "Try it one more time."
~Author Unknown

Danny wasn't sure if he was awake or dreaming, maybe caught in a between place where all things seem possible and nothing appears real. He was certain; however he had been to this spot several times now, not quite able to make it to somewhere solid. It was akin to being trapped underwater. Able to see the wavering sun and distorted blue clouds through translucent waves, but tethered to an anchor that prevented surfacing. It would explain the muffled voices, the half-sensed conversations he kept hearing when his brain was capable of processing, as if he were escaping the undertow just long enough to get his head above water before being dragged back under once more.

At times, Grace's laughter floated to Danny, the cacophony of family surrounding him, propelling him to try to push harder to break through. He thought he heard his old man's voice. The deep tenor coaxed with an odd mix of sports scores and excerpts from what Danny was certain was one of his pop's dog-eared William Johnstone westerns. The words did not conjured images of desert sand covered trails and dusty horses as they had when Danny was a child, but visions of yellowed windows on a snowy New Jersey night, worn leather recliner and the smell of pipe tobacco.

His brother's eight-year-old face swam in and out of focus, taunting Danny with a challenging smirk from the other side of a Monopoly board. It was Mathew's name he tried to speak, but it was someone else who gripped Danny's hand, who offered soothing words that dispelled the panic of disorientation. Steve's touch provided a tether, but it was his tone, a strange mix of assurance and rare fear that forced Danny to fight the undertow of unconsciousness.

"Hey, Partner."

Danny blinked, Steve's image wavered as Matty's had, but solidified with a deep breath on Danny's part and another tight squeeze to his hand from Steve. His partner looked tired, worked over, but the surge of relief Danny felt at seeing him overtook all concern.

"Steven." The syllables required effort, his tongue feeling strangely like a foreign object. Danny wasn't sure they made sense anywhere but in his head until Steve loomed closer, a ridiculous smile splitting his battered face.

"About time you woke up." Steve glanced at his watch, jotting something on a pad of paper by the bedside table before refocusing on Danny. "You've been out longer than usual. I was beginning to worry."

Danny's confusion must have registered along the furrows of his brow because Steve's grip on his hand tightened and he leaned closer to explain. "It's okay. You've been staying awake longer for the last few days, but you don't always remember what's happened when you come to. Gracie says you're like Drew Barrymore in some movie called Fifty First Dates. She wanted to make a video for you to watch each time you woke up."

"Grace?" Danny remembered his daughter's voice, solaced it was at least real, and not a haunting memory like the time with his brother.

"I reminded her that you're not the most patient of people so that maybe we should just have a quick script that we stick to and recite every time you decide to grant us with your company."

Danny might have blinked, nodded possibly. His body felt oddly disconnected from his thoughts and slightly out of his control like after a ludicrous long forced run to apprehend a suspect, but Steve seemed to read a prompt for him to continue.

"So, here goes. You were shot and you're in the hospital. You've been here almost four weeks, but you're on the mend now. Grace is safe and sound. Chin and Kono are fine, the bad guy is locked away, and, no, I didn't kill anyone."

Danny licked his lips, the strong feeling of déjà vu accompanying Steve's spiel disconcerting, but oddly comforting. "How many times?"

It was Steve's turn to frown. "How many times were you shot?"

"No, Goof." Danny rolled his eyes. "How many times…have you said that?"

Steve's grin returned. "I stopped counting after ten."

"Was I shot in the head?" Danny's gaze went to the stark white bandage wrapped around his friend's head, wondering if he was sporting a matching dressing that would make them appear like odd mix-matched bookends.

"No."

"Were you?" Danny's thoughts might have been sluggish, but he didn't miss the way Steve tensed or his quick re-direction.

"You were hit in the chest, nearly bled out." Steve motioned to Danny's blanket ensconced torso. "But the Doc said everything has healed up nicely."

"But I'm brain damaged?"

Steve snorted. "No more than usual. The doctor says this is a normal reaction for coma patients, and that you'll recover all your faculties-eventually."

"Coma?" Danny barely pushed the word past his lips, and it had nothing to do with his lethargic tongue. He had never been exactly good at keeping his feelings from showing on his face like some neon sign advertizing his current emotion, especially with those he was closest to, but he had a feeling his current condition exacerbated the flaw. He must have looked completely terrified if Steve's reaction was any indication.

"Whoa, partner. Don't freak out on me." Steve's hand went to his shoulder as his gaze searched the machines above Danny, looking for what the detective imagined was evidence of the impending panic attack Danny could feel building. "Coma is just another way of saying asleep-really, really deeply asleep."

"I know what a coma is, Steven." Danny tried to calm his racing heart; even though he could hear the slur in his speech, the weak and unfamiliar timbre gave him more cause to 'freak out' as Steve so eloquently put it. "But I'm okay?"

"You're good." Steve's gaze met Danny's once more, apparently reassured by the numbers on the readout that Danny was holding it together, perhaps better than last time they had been through this. "I promise you, Buddy everything's going to be fine."

"Good to know." Danny tried to sit up, once again alarmed when his body refused to cooperate.

"Just like your brain, your body is still adjusting." Steve's touch to Danny's shoulder increased in pressure, effectively keeping the patient still as he manipulated the bed controls to raise Danny upright. "You'll be spending some long days with the physical therapist, but Kim assures me that although miracles are rare, you'll at least be returned to the minimal level of fitness you strive to maintain."

"Kim?" Danny sighed, remembering all too well the painful hours spent with the sadistic torturers who swore they were helping him with his knee. He chose to ignore Steve's jab at his physical prowess. "At least tell me she's hot."

"He's not bad, if you're into the tall, lanky type." Steve reclaimed his chair, returning a hand to rest around Danny's wrist. "I wouldn't worry though because I think he got the impression you were taken."

"Possibly because you've been holding my hand like some school girl with a crush?" Danny glanced from their hands to his partner, completely expecting his friend to pull away. Super SEAL surprised him by keeping his hand where it was, tangible proof Danny's condition had been grave, and despite Steve's assurances, the commander was not completely convinced of Danny's imminent recuperation.

"The doctor told us that physical touch is important with coma patients. People need to know someone's with them, waiting on them." Steve shrugged away the medical explanation and the serious moment. "Besides, I was talking about the steady stream of beautiful women that paraded by your bedside and had their way with you while you were unaware."

"Beautiful women?" Danny was willing to let the issue slide.

"Gracie had an idea that you were pulling a Sleeping Beauty, and that all it would take to wake you up would be the perfect kiss. She talked Kono, Jenna, Rachel, a bevy of the floor nurses, even Mo into giving it their best shot."

"Mo?" Danny grimaced. Grace's plan hadn't sounded half bad until that particular revelation. "Kamekona's sister, Mo?"

"She made Gracie give her a dollar and her stash of pudding cups. There could have been tongue involved."

Danny attempted a glare but realized quickly he didn't have the muscle control to quite summon his typical menace. Still, Steve seemed to read his intention and the very attempt on Danny's part to appear lethal brought a more genuine grin to his face. "Where was my back-up?"

"I made sure Mo kept her hands on top of the blankets."

Danny took a deep breath and let it out slow, surprised that for having been shot in the chest he didn't hurt all that much. "At least Grace didn't enlist Prince Charming."

"Chin was willing to take one for the team, and Kamekona was game, but I told them if any guy was going to kiss you, it really should be your partner."

"Please tell me you didn't, Steven."

"Have you ever known me to say no to your daughter?"

Danny was unable to read if his best friend was being serious or not, but knew from experience Grace got her way with his partner-the kitten now scratching up Rachel's leather couches and hacking up fur balls on her priceless oriental rugs was proof of that. "No wonder I didn't want to wake up."

"That's not funny." Steve's grin vanished. "You scared the hell out of us, Danno. Everyone thought you were a lost cause."

"Everyone but you?" Danny intended for his eyebrow to rise, but wasn't sure if his face complied.

"Gracie and me…we never gave up on you." Steve took his hand away from Danny's wrist long enough to roughly palm his eyes with a heavy exhale. That foreign insecurity that had pulled Danny to the surface had returned to Steve's voice, forcing Danny to focus, to fight off the tug of sleep he could already feel making a play for his attention. "We knew you'd come back, Danno."

"And I'm not going anywhere." Danny had a feeling he had repeated that mantra more than once in their conversations he couldn't remember, but the way Steve ducked his head, the way his mouth tightened at the edges told Danny it hadn't been enough. It was evidence there were some breaks Steve couldn't fix with duct tape and sheer will, scars Danny might never be able to help heal. "Unless you're not telling me something…"

"No." Steve was quick to assure him yet again, the strength in his voice returning along with his typical protective posture. "You're going to be fine."

"I'm sorry this hasn't been a day at the beach for you." Danny wondered if his words had come out wrong when Steve's face blanched.

"Do you remember what happened at the beach?" Steve leaned closer. Danny was sure if he'd been a dog his ears would have perked, tail pointed to alert.

"I was shot at the beach?" That didn't feel right even to Danny's very sketchy memory-although it would prove his theory about nothing good taking place near the water, and give credence to his desire never to spend time there.

"No, at the Palace."

"By Wo Fat?" Danny asked, thinking it would explain why his partner was such a wreck. He hoped Jedi Master Joe hadn't insinuated yet again that Steve's pursuit of his arch enemy had been the cause, because if so when Danny had more control than only his eyeballs, he and the SEAL commander were going to have a long talk.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Steve growled.

Danny didn't understand why his partner found that scenario so unlikely, though his displeasure was understandable. "Is it really that much of a reach?"

"You were shot by Rich Murray, and before you ask, no he is not a lounge singer, but I most certainly had a hand in pissing him off."

"He's Hillary Freeman's father." Danny wasn't sure why the information was right there on the tip of his betraying tongue, or why his quick parroting of it leached more of the color from Steve's face. "What'd I say?"

"Danny, we've not talked about the actual details of the shooting any of the times you've woken up."

Danny shrugged, finding his partner's revelation trivial compared to the other things he didn't remember-like almost dying. "I probably picked it up during one of the many death bed vigil professions of your guilt and sorrow for getting me shot."

Steve leaned back, running a hand over his hair as he made an effort to look anywhere but at Danny- all obvious signs Danny had pegged his best friend's actions dead on. "Since when do I apologize for getting you shot, Danno?"

"You never apologize when you should, Steven, but you tend to take responsibility for things that are in no way whatsoever your fault."

"Murray will be spending the rest of his life in prison." Steve returned his gaze to Danny as if the shift in conversation was a table cloth he'd magically pulled from beneath a six piece setting of fine china and crystal. "He confessed to everything."

"He lost his child-what else did he have to lose?" Danny was sure he'd find it in his heart to hate the man when he was suffering through physical therapy, or shushing one of the nightmares he was sure Grace was bound to have. Yet at the moment he couldn't manage any real ire towards the man who he could only picture as the broken father he'd witnessed at Max's morgue only days after Hillary Freeman's shooting.

"His life, for starters."

Danny didn't need to be running on all cylinders to recognize the 'No one will be left standing in the wake of my wrath' look on Steve's face, but was unable to comment when his partner's attention zeroed in on the door. He watched Steve stand, maneuver to a more strategic position as his hand went to the gun at his side before Danny heard the voices in the hallway. Steve dropped his stance when Grace's head poked in the door, her eyes going from Super SEAL to Danny.

"Danno!"

"Hey, Monkey." Danny managed to lift a hand in greeting to his daughter as she bounded across the room to meet him.

"You're awake." She leaned over the bed giving him a careful hug before looking to Steve. "Did you already give him the script, Uncle Steve?"

"I did, Gracie." Steve winked at her. "You can act out the puppet show you and Kamekona created next time."

"There's a puppet show?" Danny looked at his daughter.

"I sacrificed all the socks I packed to your daughter's creative designs." The voice that answered had Danny's gaze going to the door with all the zeal and intent Steve's had before.

"Pops?" He couldn't quite believe his eyes as his father stepped into the room, unsure if he was possibly suffering from a side effect of being unconscious too long. Danny couldn't remember if Steve mentioned hallucinations. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Watch the language, son."

"It's better than the mother of all bad words you said last time when you woke up with Pappy, Danno." Grace patted his shoulder. "The doctor said abnormal cursing isn't unusual after a coma, but Uncle Steve told him that it would be unusual if you didn't swear."

"A fact I will be sure to share with your mother when I get home." Danny's father took a spot on the edge of the mattress, resting his hand briefly against Danny's hair before letting his long fingers brush along his son's stubble cheek. "Between you and your brother she's keeping the saints on their toes."

Danny glanced towards his partner. They had made a promise to be the messenger of doom to each other's family only if the worst was at hand. Danny understood from Steve's state of 'un-Super SEAL-ness' that his condition had been touch and go, but not until this moment of actually coming face to face with his father in Hawaii did it hit him like a boulder. "You called my folks?"

"Chin convinced me it was the right thing to do. Joe got your dad a flight out here." Steve glanced at Liam. "The Captain's been staying with me for the last few weeks."

"I have to admit your partner's not as bad as you made him sound, Danny Boy. It seems your tendency to embellish has not changed much since your days of describing all those teachers you swore were out to get you in high school."

"Obviously Steven hasn't been himself while I've been gone." Danny couldn't believe Steve had used his coma to ingratiate himself to Danny's father.

"He's been pretty much the same," Grace corrected with a baleful glance at her uncle. "Uncle Steve crashed his truck into police headquarters, punched the governor, got fired and had a shootout in the hospital while you were gone."

"I did not get fired," Steve assured Danny. "I'm just on a short leave of absence, which will be over before you're ready to return to work."

"That's what you feel the need to explain?" Danny felt the twinge of energy race along his shoulders and arms as they ached to lift from the mattress to take flight to illustrate his disbelief.

"Gracie painted your fingernails."

Danny glanced down at his uncooperative hands, mortified when he noticed for the first time the pink glitter cats glaring back at him. "Grace Emma Williams."

Grace leaned closer to her father. "Uncle Steve got shot."

"It's just a graze." Steve lifted his hand to the bandage, giving Gracie a rare frown. "And that was not in the script, kiddo."

Danny sighed, frustrated that he was having a hard time keeping up with the volleying conversation. "Really, Steven, just once you couldn't keep your head out of the way of the bullet?"

Danny was certain his rant must have been a garbled mess when Grace burst out laughing, his father and Steve soon joining.

"Told you so," Grace giggled, her and Steve exchanging a quick fist bump that had Danny even more confused than he was sure his condition warranted.

"My daughter is now laughing at bullet wounds and creating puppet dramas about shootings." Danny looked to his father for help. "Do you not see the madness I've been telling you about?"

"What I see are two people who have been working very hard to get you to wake up." Liam gestured to Grace and Steve. "They might have used some unorthodox methods, but it all worked out well in the end."

"Oh my God. He's brainwashed you." Danny studied his father. "Since when have you ever believed the ends justify the means? How long have you been staying with Batman?"

"Almost a month now."

"This is worse than I thought." Danny groaned. "Ma will never let you come back home."

"I've been staying with Uncle Steve, too." Grace announced, proudly.

"Really?" Danny met his partner's gaze.

"Rachel let me take your visitation days." Steve placed a hand on top of Grace's head, giving it a little shake. "I promised you I would take care of her."

"That would explain the downgraded wardrobe and grooming." Danny took in his daughter's state of dress, the sparkly skirt, animal print t-shirt, and absent trade-mark pig tails. "What next, Babe- pink camouflage cargos and Kevlar?"

"I believe the dynamic duo call it chumming the waters," Liam explained with a smile in his granddaughter's direction. "Grace and your partner seem to know exactly all the right buttons to push to keep you riled."

"You have no idea the ways in which Steven can anger me, Pops," Danny replied. "That he enlisted my innocent daughter in his one man crusade is not a big surprise."

"Mission 'Bring Danno Back' is right on target." Steve glanced at his watch. "This is the longest amount of time you've stayed awake."

"You might even make it until lunch today." Grace climbed onto the bed by her father curling up by his side. "Auntie Kono is bringing us takeout from the Noodle House.

Danny understood the unlikeliness of him eating anything that didn't come from a tube, considering the effort it took to string sentences together. Steve, in the meantime, reclaimed his chair and propped his feet on the railings of the bed.

"We can finally get in that Sponge Bob marathon you promised me, Partner."

"Sponge Bob?" Danny was seriously beginning to wonder if he had woken to some strange parallel universe.

Grace clamored down from the bed. "I have the DVD's in my backpack."

"Is Sponge Bob that funny yellow fella with the tie and loud mouth?" Liam pulled another chair to the other side of Danny's bed and sat down. "He kind of reminds me of you, Danny Boy."

Steve snorted. "But with a much better personality and lack of anger issues."

"I hate you, you know that, right?"

"Sure, Danno." Steve grinned, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "Just like you hate pineapple, 90 degree Christmases and all things Hawaii."

His partner's smile told Danny there was another part of the story he was missing, a part he probably did not want recanted in front of his old man and little girl. Danny had a firm belief that some things were better left deep in the dark subconscious where a guy was careful to bury them.

"You ready for the show, Danno?" Grace returned to the bed, remote control in hand. The scent of strawberries and ocean breeze tickled his nose as she curled next to his side. He couldn't help the grin or contented sigh that escaped him.

"You bet, Monkey." He rolled his eyes toward Steve, hoping his best friend could read the gratefulness in his gaze. Danny could not begin to express the truth behind the snide smirk he hoped he was pulling off. "It's not like I'm going to remember any of this any way."