Remnants

(Epilogue for ‘And I Want Some Candy … and a Gun That Shoots!’)

by

AS

Traffic would soon be flowing normally again. The uniformed officers parked at either end of the road were awaiting the signal from the site commander. Then the vehicles would be moved and daily life would slowly return to normal. The tall, rigidly-erect figure that moved through the uniformed men seemed simultaneously out of place and completely at home in the controlled melee of a scene wrap-up. The man had almost reached his car, a large, dark vehicle that seemed as severe as its driver, when a voice carried over the trades.

“Steve!”

McGarrett turned, the bright sun obscuring his sight for several moments before the figure that had called to him stepped in a way that it blocked the glaring light. The dark figure was too shadowed to recognize at first.

“Steve, wait.”

“Need something, Duke?”

Thinking that he had missed a detail or that the clean up was not going as well as he had thought, McGarrett glanced around at the scene on the highway. No, all of the duties had been taken care of and moving quickly toward completion.

“This got left behind…when they took Danny. Thought you’d want it – I guess.”

Uncertainty from someone who was normally highly self-assured and confident, though modest. The tone as well as the words caused the Five0 boss looked down at the HPD Sergeant’s hands, seeing for the first time what the Hawaiian held in his hands. Mind blanking, he reflexively took a step back, brushing against his vehicle before recovering control. Lukela’s hand extended the object just as McGarrett’s reached out – an easy transfer of possession.

Satisfied that he’d accomplished what he wanted to do, Lukela turned and disappeared inside the sea of uniforms, working to quickly restore normality to the locale.

With Lukela gone, McGarrett allowed his weight to shift so that he leaned against the Mercury, his gaze fixated on the khaki material in his hand. Loosening his grip, he felt the jacket move between his fingers as it slipped down towards the ground before his fingers tightened. The material should have allowed his second-in-command to blend in to his surroundings, to not make him such a blatant target. But the jacket had failed as had the vest underneath it, as had he.

Fingers gripping the jacket, Steve glanced down, zeroing in on the hole that pierced the material. The blood now dried to a stiff, dark brown that blended so well with the material. The size of the hole somehow seemed much bigger than it had when he first saw it. Unconsciously, Steve’s thumb moved up, fingering the stain. Dried, but not dried enough so that it was flaking off.

Tracing the ragged edge of the material, his mind’s eye could too clearly picture when the jacket had still been on his officer. ‘Steve, I missed.’ He hadn’t been able to get up that mountain fast enough, heart pounding as he pictured what he might find. Logically he, they, should never have gone after Danno. Moving enmass the way they had endangered too many lives. But logic had little to do with the need to reach his friend.

Glancing up, eyelids blinking rapidly, Steve looked around at the terrain. Suddenly the brown drab of Diamond Head changed – the rock, dirt and dust transforming to an almost eerie pale pink before deepening to blood red. He inhaled abruptly knowing without looking that the sticky goo he felt on his thumb was the blood that had previously been a stain on the jacket. Everywhere around him, his surroundings seemed to become blood. Then the branches of bushes and rocks seemed to colorize and liquefy before his eyes. Running down the hill, it coagulated against the side, slowly spelling out the words you failed him.

Jerking his head away from the letters that were forming, McGarrett noticed his two remaining detectives – Kelly and Kalakaua – were nearly finished packing up the van they had used for communication. Solid detectives, both were capable of completing their tasks and knowing what else needed to be done with little direction from him. Even though he knew that his controlling personality made him hover more than necessary, this time he really needed to get away from the crime scene. There was another place he had to be.

Lowering his eyes, he was startled to see that the jacket was once again khaki and the blood that surrounded the jagged hole was dried and brownish. He clutched it in his fingers momentarily before reaching for the car’s door handle. He opened it and threw the jacket onto the rear seat. Just as he was about to step into the vehicle, he paused, glancing around again at his surroundings. He sighed as if in satisfaction at the normality of his surroundings. This highway, his island would soon be returning to normal. He only hoped the same good tidings awaited him at the hospital.

As the black vehicle slowly pulled away from the scene, the two detectives stopped their activities to follow its departure. The Oriental man absently patted his jacket pocket, silently wishing that he’d brought his pipe with him. He’d been trying to cut down on using it but every once in a while he felt a stress that only the pipe could relax. He knew he wasn’t the only one disturbed by the events of the day. Most of the officers on scene would be hesitant to claim that they hadn’t been affected at some point during the afternoon.

The senseless shootings of both citizens and officers – the death of Paul – little made sense to Chin Ho Kelly at the moment. So many lives ripped apart by the rifle’s bullets; so many pieces to put back together both professionally and personally. He knew that the various wives and extended ohana of the force would rally around Paul’s family. It was their way.

Rustling behind him interrupted his train of thought before it continued. He knew without looking that Kono was packing up the mobile command/communication center as rapidly as possible. Kelly understood that the native Hawaiian detective would want to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. Kalakaua had been friends with Danny since both had been wearing uniforms. Even surfed together on rare days off for years. It made sense to the Oriental detective that Kono would want to be at the hospital with Danny. Of course it would mean that he’d have to finish the paperwork on his own which would keep him at the Palace far too late into the night. But he knew it needed to be done and that the boss would not be thinking about that detail at the moment.

“Danno….he be fine, right?”

Pulled from his reverie, Kelly turned and made eye contact with Kalakaua. “He’s got both Doc and Steve at the hospital with him, Kono. Think about his trying to be anything but ‘fine’ with those two around.”

Chin paused and turned away. “You probably want to check on him yourself, too. Don’t feel like you have to hang around.”

“I’ll stay. Help you finish this thing and then we can both go and check on the kaikaina.”

****

He paced. Then he leaned against the wall close to the doors. Then he paced some more. The outer restlessness was merely a sign of inner anxiety. He didn’t smoke; didn’t chew his nails. Was not prone to the normal yet annoying habits that most people in his current situation could resort to. Could only flex and unflex his fingers but that brought little relief from the turmoil inside.

“Danny’ll be fine, Steve. It was a clean shot – easy to repair. Go home. Relax. Get some rest. It’s been a busy day.”

The news should have calmed him. Untangled the knot that tightened in the pit of his stomach. But it didn’t. Past experience meant that he knew the tension would not ease until he saw his wounded officer with his own eyes. Could visually confirm that recuperation and healing had begun at the hands of the medical staff. Until then his pacing and fidgeting would continue.

His mind replayed the events of the day, endlessly searching for mistakes made, decisions missed or alternative paths not taken. Without nearly doing reenactment of the scenario, he couldn’t visualize anything that the SWAT teams and uniformed officers could have done differently. Other officers had been shot. Logically he could not have sacrificed more to save his second-in-command.

McGarrett thought back to the arrival of the psychiatrist who had been in charge of the kid while he’d been hospitalized. He wouldn’t mind pursuing some type of action against that sorry excuse for a doctor. Even if he was a head doctor. If that boy had been either locked up or at the very least still hospitalized the way he should have been, the pain, bloodshed and death would never have happened. And his arrogant attitude – acting as if the police (McGarrett) had nary a clue as to how to judge the sanity of his patients. Steve had no doubt believing that the infuriating excuse for a man was one of those highly judgmental people who then used their many degrees to justify their biased and often overly critical opinions. Yes, he could easily foist much of the blame for the afternoon’s fiasco onto the annoying, little doctor.

Pulling his mind back from the scene, Steve stared intently at the double doors for several minutes. He’d never looked at his watch when Bergman had come out and spoken to him so he honestly had little to no idea of how much time had passed. It seemed like an eternity. Surely if everything had gone as well as Doc had intimated then Dan would have been wheeled out of there by now and on his way to a hospital room. The tension built in his chest as he fought down the mounting tide. As much as he despised remembering the days’ events, it was much better than thinking dire scenarios concerning his friend’s health and well-being.

Straightening to his full height, McGarrett glanced up as the doors opened, trying not to show any disappointment when a young woman in green was the sole person to walk thru the doorway. Ingrained behavior caused the Irish cop to eye the woman as if she was a suspect in an investigation as he noted physical features and other identifying characteristics. Her long, straight hair caught his eye, forcing his memory back to the scene of his misery.

The two Mrs. Shems – Never before could McGarrett remember seeing such opposite people. He had no doubt that it was the influence of one that brought about the relationship with the other. He had originally hoped that influence could be exerted on William Shem by first his wife. But the pretty, young, almost scared of her own shadow woman that had arrived at the site was someone he instantly recognized as needing protection and shelter and not someone who would be able to force an act from another human being. But she had definitely been able to give some valuable insight into her husband that McGarrett had hoped to originally obtain from the stuffy doctor. The arrival of the elder Mrs. Shem (Mama Barracuda, as Danno had referred to him in an aside) had explained many things to the Irish cop about the way the sniper had been acting.

Steve expected parents to defend their children. He would have raised an eyebrow if Mrs. Shem had not done so but the blatant and rather belligerent denial of presented facts in addition to the haughty reaction to obviously seeing her daughter-in-law for the first time made him take a mental step back. It probably would have been physical if he could have justified such a move.

But McGarrett had remained outwardly calm, still hoping to sway the woman enough to assist them. It wasn’t until he’d climbed the hill, checked on Williams and then moved over to Shem’s body that he realized the true depth of the young man’s fixation and desperation. His body shivered involuntarily, goose bumps appearing as he thought about the heart made from bullets and that one three-letter word that had been the center of the disturbed young man’s issues – mom.

That head doctor should have seen how deeply rooted the maternal issues were in William Shem. McGarrett sighed, frustrated the unknown but undoubtedly dire circumstances that caused him to remain outside the doors of the surgical theater wing but most of all frustrated with himself. No matter how much he wanted to, McGarrett understood that head doctor really was not to blame for events at Diamond Head. Neither was Shem’s meek wife nor his hard-to-describe-but-definitely-a-piece-of-work-in-her-own-right mother. Ultimately the consequences of the afternoon rested squarely on his shoulders. The burden was his alone to bear.

Briefly his mind seemed to wander. Myriad thoughts ran through his head but nothing was specific enough for him to grasp onto as a concrete thought. Before he could consider again how much time had passed since he’d spoken to Bergman, the double doors opened as a gurney was being wheeled through them. Two orderlies and probably a nurse – all in surgical green garb – maneuvered the object through the doorway. McGarrett glanced up, eyes finding Doc Bergman as he rounded a corner and followed the small group out of the unit.

Realizing that Williams was finally being wheeled to a room, Steve moved forward, intent on walking next to the gurney. The orderlies halted their motion, stopping the stretcher’s movement and allowing McGarrett his first glimpse of his second-in-command since he left him wounded on the hilltop to check on their shooter. Leaning over the gurney rail, Steve carefully looked over Dan’s still form. His eyes were inexorably drawn to the gauze and bandage that covered a large part of the younger man’s shoulder. In his mind’s eye, McGarrett flashed back to the hill, again picturing the small but significant tear in the shirt along with the immense amount of wet red that soaked the material. Snapping his attention back to present time, Steve’s hand dropped over the rail to rest gently on Dan’s uninjured arm.

The patient’s head minutely moved, canting more towards the left side of the gurney and his exhale caught audibly as it moved from throat through lips that then moved soundlessly. Unconsciously moving his hand on Dan’s arm, Steve watched as the closed eyelids blinked rapids, barely opening each time. Finally he stared into the cloudy, cerulean ones that so often mirrored his own.

Licking dry lips, it took several attempts before Dan was able to form a one word question. “Shem?”

“You got him, Danno.”

“You…” The whispered word came out as more of an exhale than something that was actually spoken.

“I’m fine, Aikane.”

“No…blame…”

Steve remained silent but those who knew him well would have noticed the clenching of his jaw behind the impervious façade that he presented to the world.

Dan’s eyes closed again as his body twitched spasmodically – a not uncommon reaction to the combination of drugs still coursing through his system. “Sleep…”

McGarrett had no reply for the final whisper but his fingers gently closed around Dan’s arm before he pulled back and straightened, stepping away from the gurney. As it began to advance again, the tall, Irish cop moved behind it, falling in step with Bergman.

“It seemed to take a while for you to come out.”

The older physician/medical examiner knew there was no way he could avoid giving anything but a truthful reply to the statement. Yet he hesitated to do so since it also meant that he’d have little chance convincing the cop to go home afterward.

“Not going to lie to you, Steve. They had a little trouble bringing him out of the anesthesia this time.”

“But you said he’s ok…”

Bergman held up a hand to ward off the impending diatribe. “Danny is fine, Steve. He came through the surgery well. The bullet wound was actually fairly minor in terms of damage caused. You know as well as I do that there’s always a small risk when anesthesia is involved.”

“I know. It’s just that I…”

“Steve, there was nothing that could have been done differently out there today. The officers out there know it, Danny knows it and, deep down, you know it as well. From the news reports I’ve heard, that kid was seriously messed up. There was nothing else you could have done instead or differently.”

Bergman stopped and stared at the other man. “Danny is on enough medication that he will sleep through the night without waking up again. Go home. Get some rest yourself.”

McGarrett nodded but Doc was fairly certain that he had not gotten through to the other man.

“I’m going home, Steve. I’ll be back to check on Danny in the morning. Before I head to the morgue for the day.”

McGarrett didn’t move or acknowledge the statements. Then just when Bergman was about to walk away, he looked up. “I’m gonna sit with Danno for a little while. Just in case, Doc.”

Bergman didn’t reply, already knowing that there was little he could say at this point. McGarrett had already moved around him and was entering the room that the gurney had just been pushed out of. The door swung shut behind the dark suited man.

Doc shook his head and walked over towards the nurses’ desk to advise them of the visitor who would undoubtedly remain for the duration of the night. This time – this shooter – had hurt many. The remnants of those affected by William Shem’s delirious spree would be reassembled both physically and mentally. Wounds heal but the scars would remain this time. Probably for longer than necessary. Doc could only hope that Steve’s healing – the absolution of a guilt that he did not need to shoulder- would begin in the hospital room he would spend the night in as he, much like a sentinel, stood guard over a fellow officer, a wounded friend. Protecting Williams in the aftermath the way he’d been unable to do on Diamond Head. Remnants followed by redemption. For Bergman had no doubt that that would be what McGarrett got from his night time vigil. It was the reason he never attempted to stop the sentry duty. Jotting down a couple of lines in the patient’s chart, Bergman’s notes assured a quiet night for both of the officers under his care. Closing the chart and rubbing his burning eyes, he turned and headed off towards the elevator. The next day was already looking like one of his busier ones. If he was going to have the ability to deal with McGarrett where both the sniper and Danny were concerned then he’d need the sleep and rejuvenation his body was currently craving. The elevator doors slid open and he stepped inside, punching the button for main floor. As the doors closed, he sighed audibly. The ruins of his own peaceful world beginning to rebuild themselves.

Pau