OK, I'm just doing this for fun so don't shoot me. There were a few episodes of a few shows I watched when I was a kid that got me into the whumping thing. I thought it might be fun to borrow elements and build something new around them in the style of whumpy H50 episodes. NOT stealing whole plots, producing something hopefully original but inspired by/tribute to- you get the idea. Don't like the concept? Please don't read it!

This will be a series of short, multi-chapter stories in which there will be Danny whump, Steve angst, and of course hurt/comfort and bromance! Some will even have a bit of Steve whump and Danny angst, just to mix it up a bit...

There will be prizes of honor and glory for anyone who recognizes the show/episode I'm borrowing from, and I'll come clean at the end. Just for fun, remember, not claiming anyone else's work as my own so no shouting! Here is attempt number 1 in which the Danny whump is largely psychological... And warning- there is swearing. No gratuitous violence for a change though.

Thank you Irene Claire for the high speed beta and the general greatness :)

LEFT BEHIND

Chapter 1

Danny Williams woke up abruptly to the smell of strong disinfectant. He blinked his eyes a few times, focusing slowly on unfamiliar surroundings. A white ceiling. A strip light set behind a sheet of plexi-glass. He felt vague and confused, un-co-ordinated. Trying to think was like trying to swim through mud. He flexed his arms but they felt heavy. He couldn't move for some reason.

He turned his head to the side. The wall beside his bed was padded. That was unexpected. He tried to focus closer in, on his own body. It took a few seconds for his pupils to respond. When they finally caught up with his brain, he saw that his wrist was in a padded restraint attached to the frame of the bed. He shifted a little, trying to make sense of another sensation. A catheter. Great. There was a drip set up near his head, a clear liquid drip, drip, dripping down through a tube, snaking towards the back of his hand. He watched the liquid, trying to understand.

He didn't know what he was meant to feel. He didn't feel scared. He just felt numb, slow.

A noise made him turn his head, his reaction lagging several seconds behind. Before he could search for the source of the noise a face materialized in front of him. It was a face he knew and he frowned, trying to remember. A doctor. Doctor Collins? Yes. Doctor Collins from Queen's Medical Center. A psychiatrist? He and Steve had spoken to him about a suspect once. One of his patients.

He tried to remember how to talk. His throat, his mouth, his lips were dry. Sore. And they felt like they were coated in cotton wool. His tongue felt too big for his mouth. He made some aborted attempts to form words, only succeeding in producing a strange, croaky noise.

He closed his eyes for a moment, attempting to concentrate, then had another go.

"Wh't h'ppen?" he managed to grate out. His voice sounded weak, unused.

"Danny, you're safe. No one's going to hurt you here." The man's voice was familiar. Strong and calm. Soothing.

A spoon appeared in front of Danny's face.

Dr Collins' face was behind it, smiling kindly. "Ice chips. This will help."

Danny obediently opened his mouth, closing his eyes at the pleasant sensation as the ice began to melt.

"Danny. What do you remember?"

Danny stared dumbly at Collins. He blinked a few times then reached into his mind, searching. What did he remember? Ramirez. The Ramirez case. He had gone to meet an informant, pick up something from him. Financials. He could remember leaving the RV, an intersection on a quiet road, heading back towards HQ. Then…nothing.

"I.." he croaked, then cleared his throat. "I was at work. What happened? Where am I?"

"You're at Queen's, Danny."

That made sense when a doctor from Queen's was by his side. But why? And what was with the padded walls? Danny tried to formulate a question to that effect in his head but didn't quite succeed.

Collins calming voice interrupted his train of thought. "Danny, there was a car accident. Do you remember?"

Danny closed his eyes reflexively as a flash of screeching tires, smashing glass, people screaming, came to him. His stomach lurched, but the memory went away. Something blocked it out as fast as it had come.

"What happened?" he whispered.

"You crashed your car. Danny, you suffered serious injuries."

That sounded bad. He suddenly yearned for a more familiar face. "What? When? Where is everyone, where's Steve? Where's Grace?" His voice quavered with uncertainty, confusion.

The doctor placed a hand gentle on Danny's arm and looked into his eyes with such compassion that Danny's guts turned to stone. "I'm so sorry, Danny. Commander McGarrett didn't make it. He was killed outright. You suffered head injuries. You were left in a coma as a result."

Danny blinked at him. "Wh-what?"

"You were out for nearly six months altogether..."

"No!" Danny croaked, cutting him off. He looked around himself again, suddenly frantic in spite of whatever drugs might have been in the process of easing into his system. He shook his head. None of that could be true. It couldn't be true. It wasn't true, because no way did they stick coma patients in padded cells. And anyway, Steve hadn't even been in the car with him!

The doctor evidently predicted his train of thought. "Danny. Listen to me carefully. The things you're remembering happened a full month before the accident. You've lost some time. And afterwards, when you came out of the coma, when you remembered what had happened, you struggled to come to terms with it. You had a breakdown. You've been here ever since for your own safety. But you are safe."

No. Just no. Danny stared at him, eyes wide, breaths coming ever faster. He shook his head again, because it just wasn't possible. Another image came to him. Blood. Blood on his hands. Flashing blue lights. He was gasping for air now, panic rising.

Dr Collins squeezed his arm, casting an eye up towards the medication that was drip, dripping into his vein before looking into his eyes again. "I know this is hard to take in. We've been here before, Danny. It's so important you stay calm and try to start accepting what has happened."

Danny shook his head again, because how the hell was he meant to stay calm when he was hearing all of this? What was he meant to think? "I..I need," he stuttered breathlessly, voice trembling, "I need to see Grace. L…let me see my daughter. Where is she?"

Dr Collins was silent for a moment, lips thinning into a narrow line, concern written all over his face. "We should really talk more when you're feeling calmer. Danny's heart was pounding now, because if Steve was really dead, not that that was true, who the hell had been taking care of his daughter? "No!" he shouted. "Where's Grace, what's happened to Grace! Tell me!"

Collins patted his arm now. "Don't worry. Grace is fine, Danny. She's safe and she's fine. And so are you. Just keep calm."

"No, I need to see her, NOW!" he yelled, now yanking on his restraints.

Dr Collins closed his eyes for a second. When he spoke again, his voice was low. "Danny, I need you to understand something. You suffered a brain injury in the accident. Sometimes a patient's personality can be affected by that sort of trauma. You….you displayed some violent tendencies while you were trying to come to terms with what had happened."

Danny's distress was ramping up exponentially. "No! I would never hurt Gracie, never!"

Dr Collins shook his head, smiling again. "Of course not! No. But your ex-wife felt…., " he hesitated, looking like he was struggling to come up with the right words, "Your ex-wife felt it was upsetting for Grace to see you when you were so…fragile. The decision was made that it would be best for her to stay away until you were well again."

Danny sagged down suddenly, blinking a few times, the complete and utter nightmare of a scenario that was being spelled out to him proving entirely overwhelming as he tried to comprehend it. He panted out an involuntary whimper of distress, then whispered, "I don't...I don't understand. Can..can I speak to Rachel? Please?"

Dr Collins sighed. "Her instructions were explicit. She wishes to be contacted when you have recovered and not before. There's been no further contact with her since they moved away."

"Moved away?" Danny echoed in shock.

"Yes. I the family relocated to England. A fresh start for your daughter, I understand" Dr Collins' voice was patient but matter-of-fact.

"But, but, they can't have! She's not allowed to take Grace, we have joint custody! I don't believe you. I don't believe any of this. I need to speak to someone. Chin Ho Kelly….or Kono. Kono Kalakaua or Lou Grover..? Please?" He was shouting again now, shouting and pulling at those restraints, itching to be loose, itching to get the hell out of there and find out for himself what had happened.

Collins stood back, eyeing him cautiously. "Just stay calm Danny. I'll see what I can do, okay? It's hard for everyone concerned. So much time has passed."

Danny froze, looking Collins in the eye. "What? What do you mean?"

Collins blinked a few times before taking a deep breath and nodding once. "Danny, you've been here for three years now."

Danny stared in shock. Just no way. No way could that be true. He shook his head, just a little at first but then violently. "No!" he screamed, "No! You're lying. Let me go, let me out of here!" He yelled, yanking on the restraints violently, face reddening with the effort.

Collins moved immediately to the door and pressed a red button, then stood, staying well back. "Calm down, Danny. You're going to be fine."

His words were meant to be calming, but Danny could hear the fear behind them and it made him lose the plot entirely. "You're lying! What the hell is going on! Let me go! What have you done with them?" he screamed, struggling desperately to break free. He felt something give in one of his arm restraints, heard Collins gasp in shock.

But then the door opened. More figures in white coats came in, running towards Danny in a blur of movement. Then there were hands on him, pinning him down, shouting in his face. He felt a sharp prick in his arm and a cold, cold feeling spread down his body. He gasped for breath, still making abortive attempts to break free until his body would listen to him no more.

He lay there as they released him. His eyelids fluttered shut and his surroundings started to drift away, but for a few long moments he could still hear. And there was no mistaking the words exchanged beside him.

"He out?"

"Yep. Here we go again."

"I know. I don't think we're ever going to break him out of this cycle. As soon as he accepts what's happened and we start to make progress, that's when he realizes McGarrett's death was his fault and that no one he knows has ever been able to forgive him….and he just can't cope. He breaks down again and we have to begin all over."

We just have to keep trying, if we get the balance of sedatives and anti-depressants right, maybe…"

Everything faded away.