A/N: I don't own anything affiliated with Hawaii FIVE-0, but boy, do I wish I do!

I don't mean to beat on Danny...or Steve...I just have a bad day and this happens! Eeep! Writing a chapter a day, so it all depends on my mood how this turns out. So COULD be a possible death fic. IF it is, I promise to handle it with the utmost care and deliver it with the dignity and love it would deserve. I'm really hoping it's not though.

Enjoy!

P.S Set anytime after s.3, Malia never died, and Kono is in Canada with Adam.

The 7 stages of grief

Stage 1

Shock and Denial

Waiting is the worst part, Steve decides, and inevitably, the longest part too. He paces the length of the waiting room, eyes watching nurses and doctors rush about in the chaos of the ER through the darkened panes of glass, hands running through short hair, down his face, back up to his hair. He stops; a quick glance at his watch, rubs fingers over chapped lips, glances back at his watch again. Resumes pacing. His hands are shaking, and he feels sick. Danny's blood stains his skin, and no matter how many times he scrubs clean, he still sees it there, tattooed as a permanent reminder of his cock-up.
He closes his eyes against the harsh reality of his surroundings, pinches the bridge of his nose as he attempts, and fails, to forget where he is and why."Steve?"
He opens his eyes, lifts his head up and spins around to the direction of the strangled voice, and a wave of relief, love and regret punches him hard in the chest. For a second she continues to look at him – her teeth worrying her bottom lip, her eyes wide and tearful, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt – neither making the first move.
"Cath." He eventually chokes out, takes a step towards her, and then their bodies are crashing together, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, his snaking around her waist and pulling her close. He turns his head into her hair, inhaling the familiar scent, as she buries her head into his shoulder, tears dampening his shirt. Her sobs are silent, but they shake her body, and Steve wants to tell her to stop, just stop, because he'll be okay; Danny will be okay, because he has to be.
They stay moulded together for an immeasurable amount of time, using each other as a support, propping each other up, until they become so emotionally drained it physically exhausts them and they end up dropping into one of the plastic leather-effect couches. Catherine curls into a ball, snuggles into Steve's solid side, the familiarity offering little comfort as he places one arm around her.
'This doesn't make sense' 'Steve determines. 'Danny was okay, ranting and raving, and now this. It just doesn't make sense.' He looks up, continues to watch the bustling ER; a room he's made far too many trips too. He glances back at his watch again, rubs his eyes when the hands are blurred, and sighs when he sees only three hours have passed since they arrived at the hospital. He closes his eyes, hangs his head and does something he hasn't done since he was a child; he prays.
The air shifts around him, and Steve looks up to see Chin standing in the doorway.
"Any news?" He asks first, stepping over the threshold when Steve gives a small nod of reassurance, and takes a seat opposite his boss, friend, eyes flicking to the dozing Catherine and back again. Steve shakes his head slightly, mouth twisting into a grimace.
"I have HPD processing the scene now. What happened out there?" Chin asks and Steve takes in a deep breath, tries to steady his voice.
"I don't know." He states simply, shrugs his shoulders slightly. "We approached the building, came under fire from three, possibly four different shooters, but we took them out." Steve trembles at the memories. "And then Danny was there, shoving me to the ground and there was blood. Lots of blood."
"We found four bodies at the scene. HPD will be along to process your weapon, and Danny's too, if it was discharged." Chin nodded. "There must have been a fifth shooter." He concludes and Steve rubs at his temple.
"He was bleeding from the head, Chin." Steve says the words neither want to hear. "That's not good. He was hit, and bleeding from the head." He chokes on his words a little, takes a shaky breath and tries to steady himself. Chin's calm expression doesn't falter, he nods once and reaches across to place a friendly hand on Steve's knee.
"Let's wait for an update." He suggests. "Try to stay positive." Steve nods in agreement, and Chins leans back into his chair, folds his arms across his chest. Steve closes his eyes again, because he's so exhausted, so tired, he's sure he can't keep them open any longer.

"We should wait for backup." Danny suggested, as he checked his vest was secure and pulled his gun from the holster at his hip.
"You are my backup." Steve grinned in his psycho-friendly-SEAL way, and Danny rolled his eyes.
"I knew you'd say that." He shook his head, as he opened the passenger side door of the Camaro. The cartel were hiding drugs in the old sugar plantation, and Chin called them twenty minutes ago from Kamekona's shrimp truck to say that the deal was going to go down tonight. So if they wanted to catch these sons-of-bitches, they had to do it now. They thought that they had the element of surprise on their side, but as they headed up the muddy walkway, gunfire had rung out, bullets flying from smashed windows. Steve had rolled to the right and taken cover behind a large rock, Danny ducked left and crouched behind an empty, discarded metal barrel."I want it on record, somewhere," Danny had shouted over to Steve as a hail of bullet showered around them, 'that I wanted to wait for backup!"
"Noted, Danno." Steve shouted back, then they both took aim and started shooting back at the building. Eventually, after what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes, the gun fire ceased and silence fell. Danny looked at Steve, who seemed to be in once piece, and gestured wildly at the golden flecks of spent rounds on the ground between them.
"See, Steven? This, this, is why we should have waited. This is why people automatically grab for a tac. vest when they see you coming. You're an animal, a magnet for trouble, out of control!" Danny ranted and Steve laughed.
"What's the matter, Princess? Did you mess up your hair? Break a nail?" Danny huffed, pissed at his partners inhumane lack of fear.
"You," he pointed at Steve, "are crazy, do you know that? You need a therapist!"
"I don't need a therapist, Danno." Steve laughed loudly, clearly amused at his partners anguish. "You, on the other hand..." Danny cut him off, raising a finger to silence his friend.
"Oh no, my sanity is perfectly intact, thank you very much! I'm not the one that goes around shooting at things for fun, or blowing things up, or hanging guys from roofs, throwing them in shark cages, or tear gassing suspects in their own homes."
"Do you think the coast is clear?" Steve nods towards the silent building.
"I don't know, stick your head up and see if someone shoots at it." Danny drawled sarcastically. "Or even better, let's just sit here and wait for SWAT, like proper cops do."
"Are you saying we're not proper cops?" Steve asked in mock offence.
"Oh no, I'm a proper cop. You? You're just a Navy SEAL with an equal mix of Mommy and Daddy issues."
"That's mean, Danny." Steve grinned. "Let's go." He stood from behind his rock, crouching slightly.
"You're crazy. Bonkers. Loony; all nine kinds." Danny peered up over his barrel, a glint of something catching his eye in one of the second storey windows. "Steve! Get down!" He yelled, as his body lunged across the gap and pounded into McGarrett's,knocking him from his feet. A crack echoed around them, and they both landed on the floor, Danny on top of Steve. A moment of eerie silence, and Steve expected Danny to roll off him, make a comment about saving McGarrett's life and getting his pants muddy again and another expensive dry cleaning bill, but he didn't move.
"Gerroff." He huffed, the weight of Danny pressing hard on his chest. Then Steve was vaguely aware of warm drops on his face, and when he nudged Danny to get off, he didn't get a fight, or a jerk, or a snipped comment. Danny just rolled off of him, his body resembling a morbid rag doll. There was red, contrasting against sheet white skin and blonde hair, trailing down a motionless face.
"Danny?" He shouted, grabbing hold of Danny's vest by the shoulders and shaking him slightly. "Danny!"

"Steve?" Catherine speaks, shaking the arm of the trembling SEAL. "Steve, are you okay?" When she gets no answer. Steve comes back from his memories, opens his eyes and looks down at concerned ones. "I think you're going into shock."
"I'm fine." He shakes his head, looks over at Chin. "Has the doctor been in yet?" Because he's not sure how long he's out, but Chin shakes his head no, his features looking as haunted as Steve feels. He looks out of the waiting room windows, sees the ER has calmed down from chaotic bustle to steady flow; nurses crowd the nurses station, filing paperwork and doctors hover around ipad's and good old fashioned x-ray machines. The temperature has dropped, the air feels cold on Steve's skin, and he stands up on shaky legs.
"I'm going to ask if...when...about Danny." And then after knowing nods and comforting smiles, he steps out of the box room and heads for the group of doctor's in white lab coats.
"Hey, excuse me?" He interrupts enthusiastic conversation, and four faces turn to look at him. "I'm here for...with Detective Williams." When the faces continue to look blank, "It's been over four hours, and we haven't heard..."
"Commander McGarrett." A familiar voice sounds behind him, and Steve turns quickly to face the doctor he'd come to know a little to well, from Five-0's far too many ER visits.
"Doctor Hope, I was just asking about Danny..." Steve starts to explain, but falters when he sees Doctor Hope's face twist into the same sympathetic expression he's worn too many times himself; one used when dealing with emotionally unstable or vulnerable people – victims or the family of.
"Shall we go and take a seat?" The doctor asks, pointing towards the family waiting room where Catherine and Chin are watching through the glass. Steve nods slightly, because really he has no choice, and slowly returns to the room that felt no more than a prison.
Catherine squeezes his hand gently when he resumes his position next to her, and Steve doesn't wait for the doctor to get comfortable on the couch next to Chin before asking the question that's been plaguing his mind since they stepped foot in the ER.
"How is he, Doc? How's Danny?"
"Detective Williams is in a critical condition." The doctor said gravely. "He's sustained a significant injury to the left side of his skull. The bullet itself has only grazed past the Detectives head, but has left behind an open wound, shattering parts of the skull, leaving fragments of bone to penetrate the left temporal lobe."
"So, is he going to be okay? I mean, he's going to survive this, right?" Steve pressed, shifting to sit closer to the edge of his seat.
"It's hard to say, there is no definitive answer right now. On a whole, only 5% of patients presenting with a gunshot wound to the head survive, and out of that 5%, only 2% are lucky enough to walk away with no lasting effects. Detective Williams is under the best Neurologist on the Island, though, and he's doing everything he can right now."
"So what's the plan?" Catherine asked, removing her hands from Steve's and clasping them in front of her.
"Right now, he's in surgery. Dr Nakesh, our neurologist, has performed a craniotomy – removed a large portion of Detective Will..."
"Danny. Please, call him Danny." Steve interrupted.
"...removed a large portion of Danny's skull – to check for any internal haemorrhaging, and to remove as many fragments as possible without causing more damage." Doctor Hope continued. "When he's finished as best he can, he'll leave the skull fragment out and wrap Danny's head loosely, to allow for brain swelling. He'll then be left in a chemically induced coma for a few days to monitor his progress, and we'll proceed from there."
"Best and worst case scenario?" Steve asks, because he needs to know.
"Like I said before, Commander, there's no clear-cut answer. At best I can dare to offer you hope of a full recovery, with little to no side effects. Worst case, we're looking at severe memory loss, loss of vision, hearing, speech, any recognition of objects or people or places, or even death."
"When can we see him?" Chin asks, noting Steve's paling complexion.
"He's still in surgery, and may be for a few more hours yet. My advice is to go home, all of you, and get some rest. I promise to have one of my team to call you as soon as there's a change, for better or worse, in Detective...Danny's...condition."
Chin nods, shakes the doctor's hand before he leaves the room, then exchanges a worried look with Catherine. Steve is pale, his breathing shallow, his body shaking.
"Steve, we should go home." Catherine tries, but gets no response. Another glance in Chin's direction; his cue to try. He crouches in front of the SEAL, catches his attention.
"C'mon, Steve. Time to go."
Steve nods once, looks into the eyes of the Hawaiian native, knows he's right, and forces himself to stand.
Catherine wraps her arm around Steve's waist, guides him to the exit, Chin in tow.
"The Camaro..." Steve starts, because dammit, if he left it unattended, Danny would be pissed.
"I drove it back from HPD earlier. It's been processed, and is out front. I'll follow you and Catherine home in it, and Malia can pick me up from your place."
"Thanks Chin." Catherine smiles, because Steve just nods and continues to head for the exit.

They sit on the lanai for a long time, none of them talking, sipping beer and staring into space. Occasionally, one of them checks their cell phone in case they had a missed call from the hospital, or got up to fetch more beer, or just to stretch their legs.
"I should call Kono. She'd want to be here." Chin finally says, pulling his phone from his pocket, and Steve jumps up.
"No!" He shouts, shakes his head. "No, don't. We promised we wouldn't unless..." He tries, his voice lower.
"But Steve..."
"I said no, Chin. Danny is going to be okay. She doesn't need to come back for this." He orders, then runs his hand over his face. "Please." His eyes plead for the older man to understand.
"Okay." He finally nods, hesitant. "But if things change..."
"They wont."
"But if they do..."
"They wont." Steve says firmer, a promise. "But okay." Nods slightly. A soft horn disturbs the peace and quiet around them, and Chin stands.
"That will be Malia, I'd better be going." He smiles gently, pats Steve's arm gently as he passes. "Call me if you hear anything."
"I will do, buddy." Steve nods, before heading for one of the the wooden chairs on the soft sand.
"I'll walk you out, Chin." Catherine smiles, taking his empty beer bottle from him, and placing it on the kitchen counter with hers as they pass through the house. "Thanks for being there for him today." She says as she opens the front door and Chin steps over the threshold. He turns back to face her. "Steve, that is."
"It's only what we'd all do for each other." He smiles warmly, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Watch out for him, Cath. He's coming straight out of shock and heading straight in to denial."
"I know. He refused to call Danny's Mother earlier. If he doesn't do it tomorrow, I will." She nods, sadness pulling in her chest. "He's going to blame himself for a long time."
"Yes, he will." Chin nods, before turning to leave again. "I'll see you tomorrow, Cath. Try and get some rest."
"I'll try." She agrees, before closing the door, taking a deep breath to steady the overwhelming urge to break down and mourn the possibility of losing a member of her ohana, then heads for the second chair on the beach.