Chapter Text
“Motherfucker!” Danny yells in anguish as the suspect they had been chasing barrels into him. They twist and both fall to the ground, with the brunt of the man’s not-inconsiderable weight landing on top of Danny’s knee. The Hawaiian guy manages to scramble to his feet and run off while Danny can only roll onto his side and try valiantly not to vomit.
Goddamn, why is it always his knee. Why can’t these knuckleheads go for the shoulder or something for once, the change would be so refreshing. Danny clenches his fists and presses his forehead to the ground, trying to concentrate on the crisp smell of the grass rather than the searing, prickling burn in his knee. He takes a couple of loud, shuddering breaths and is really proud that his lunch is staying where it’s supposed to. Can’t break that streak.
After a few minutes the pain finally clears just enough for Danny to open his eyes. Kono is hovering above him, and he tries to focus on her panicked face. “Kono,” he grits through his teeth. “Don’t worry about me, go get the guy.”
“Chin and Meka got ’im, it’s good,” she says, and her smile only looks a little shaky. “The paramedics are on their way. Is it your knee?”
“Yeah,” he gasps. “It’s the bad one, too. Fuck.”
Kono kneels down next to him and grabs his hand. “You’re gonna be fine. Just hang on.”
Sometimes there are perks to being a member of HPD’s major crimes task force, and chief among them is not having to wait in the ER—usually. At least there’s a dim silver lining to this shitty day because Danny’s quickly whisked away for an MRI. Eventually the pain medicine kicks in, and Danny exhales gratefully as he’s finally left alone to doze in a dark, quiet room.
“Hi, Detective Williams,” someone says, an indeterminate amount of time later, and Danny struggles to open his eyes at the feel of a warm hand on his leg.
“Hi,” he says blearily. He blinks, and it takes him a few attempts to focus his eyes on the slim, older woman standing next to his bed.
“I’m Dr. Rosenberg, the on-call orthopedist. I just looked at the results of your MRI, and we need to talk about your knee.”
“Oh god. How bad is it?” Danny says with a wince.
“Well, the great news is that it’s not your ACL.”
“That’s, uh, good, I guess,” Danny says, struggling to sit up a bit. “Then what’s the bad news?”
“You’ve torn your medial collateral ligament, also known as your MCL, which is the ligament that connects your thigh to your shin on the inside of your knee.”
Danny groans and drops his head back down onto the bed. “Surgery?”
“Actually, no. MCL injuries rarely require surgery, and yours shouldn’t either.”
“Really? Then what’s the treatment?”
“Mostly physical therapy. But you need to keep your weight off of your leg as much as possible for this first week in order to help the selling go down. That means a knee brace plus crutches.”
“Physical therapy, huh?” Danny says, wrinkling his nose. He remembers how painful it was the first time with his ACL.
“Absolutely, that’s how these injuries heal. And you’ll need to follow up with me in six weeks or so to get another MRI and see how that ligament is healing.”
“Okay,” Danny says, blowing out a breath. At least there’s no surgery. “How long do I have to do PT?”
“About eight to ten weeks, I would guess, and you should be good as new. I’m going to refer you to Dr. McGarrett—he owns a clinic in Kahala and is the best in the area. And I’ll write all this down for you, don’t worry,” she says with a chuckle as she pats his good leg. “I can tell you’re a little woozy. How’s the pain?”
“It’s—not bad,” Danny says slowly. His brain feels a little like mush, and thinking takes a lot of effort.
“I’m glad,” Dr. Rosenberg says, smiling. “I’ll be back in an hour or so to give you some instructions and a prescription, then you’ll be free to go—as long as someone can drive you home.”
“Okay,” Danny says, eager to close his eyes again. “Thanks, doc.”
Someone knocks on the door, and Danny jerks awake at the sound. He turns his head, disoriented, to see Kono standing in the doorway. Oh, right. He’s in the hospital with another bum knee—which thankfully he cannot feel right now.
“You ready for me to bust you out of here?”
“Kono!” Danny says with a wide grin. “You’re so pretty, I don’t tell you that enough.”
She laughs and drags a chair over to his bedside. “They got you on the good drugs, huh?”
“Oh, yeah,” Danny says, nodding slowly. “It’s awesome. Can’t feel a thing.”
“I’ll bet. So what’s the damage?”
“Fuckin’ tore my MCL.”
“Ho, sorry, brah,” Kono says, frowning. “At least you don’t need surgery for that, right?”
“No. Ten weeks of physical therapy, though—that’s gonna suck.”
Kono winces in sympathy. “It sure is. And I’m going to have to rely on those schmucks Meka and Chin to back me up,” she says, flashing those dimples.
Danny groans. “Though I’m happy that you just used the word schmuck—seriously, so thrilled—thanks for the reminder that I’m on desk duty for the foreseeable future.”
Kono laughs. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” she says, standing up. “Let’s get you out of here—I can’t wait to drive the Camaro.”
“Hey, Steve.”
Steve finishes scrawling a note in a file and swivels in his chair to see Mary standing in the doorway of his office.
“Your next appointment is waiting,” she says, and he nods.
“Thanks, Mary,” he says, shuffling through some papers on his desk. “Remind me which one that is?”
“It’s the referral from Dr. Rosenberg at Queens—the police officer with the torn MCL,” Mary says.
“Oh right, thanks. I’ll be out in a sec,” Steve says, turning back to his papers. He can tell that Mary is lingering in the doorway, so he sighs and speaks without turning around again. “Yes?”
“He is really attractive,” she says. “And definitely your type.”
“Mary, come on,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. He turns to see Mary grinning—she takes way too much pleasure in the fact that Steve is bi, if only because she gets to tease him endlessly about both men and women. “First of all, you don’t know my type. But you do know that I don’t date patients.”
“Well, you should probably make an exception for his one,” Mary says. “Because I’m going to ask him out if you won’t.”
Steve grimaces and stands up. “It’s really awkward that that’s even a possibility.”
“I know, big bro, ain’t it great?” she says, smirking.
Steve pushes past her with a frown and strides down the hall toward the front of the building. He stops short when he reaches their small waiting area, but Mary just cackles as she elbows past him toward the reception desk.
There’s only one guy sitting there, scowling at his knee brace as if it’s personally offending him. He’s blond and handsome and looks built—fuck, maybe Mary does know his type.
“Uh,” Steve starts, looking down at the file in his hand. “Daniel?”
The guy looks up, seems a little startled for some reason, and then winces as he gets to his feet.
“Danny,” he says, balancing his weight carefully on his crutches to offer his hand.
“Steve.” Danny’s grip is strong and dry, and Steve likes it. A lot.
“Not Dr. McGarrett?” Danny says with a smile. Fuck his eyes are really blue.
“A little too stuffy for me,” Steve says, lifting one corner of his mouth in a smirk. “Just Steve is fine.”
“All right, then, Steve.” Danny gestures widely. “Lead me to your torture chamber.”
Steve laughs and shows Danny to one of the exam rooms. He gestures for Danny to hop up on the table and takes a seat for himself on the stool. “Not a fan of physical therapy then, I take it?”
“Nope,” Danny says, popping the p. “Tore my ACL when I was younger, and the PT was horrible. Little old lady who really seemed to get off on my pain.”
“Well, at the very least I’m not a sadist, I promise,” Steve says, smiling. He flips through Danny’s file. “The ACL was on the same leg, right?”
Danny nods. “The doc at the hospital said it looked okay, though.”
Steve pulls out the scan of Danny’s MRI and holds it up for him to see. “It does. See it right there?” Steve asks, pointing with the tip of his pen.
Danny leans forward and peers at the image. “Where’s the MCL?”
Steve shifts the pen slightly to point at a different spot. “Right here on the edge. See this line that looks sorta wavy? That’s it.”
Danny winces and sits back. “Yuck.”
“How’s the past week been?”
“I really hate not being able to move around, but the pain hasn’t been too bad. And I think the swelling has gone down.”
“Let’s take a look, okay?” Steve says. He stands up and starts to carefully remove Danny’s knee brace.
“How can I be sure you’re even really a doctor?” Danny asks as he lays back and braces himself on his elbows. Steve tries not to notice that the motion pulls his shirt even tighter around his shoulders. “You’re not even wearing a white coat. I’ve never seen a doctor in cargo pants.”
“Well, I’ve never had a patient wearing a tie,” Steve says mildly, “so I guess we both get new experiences today.”
“God,” Danny groans. “You’d think I was wearing a clown suit, with all the shit I get about this tie.”
“Next time wear loose pants or shorts, okay?” Steve asks as he rolls up the leg of Danny’s dress pants. “Easier to get at your knee. Though feel free to wear whatever color tie you want—I won’t judge.”
Danny snorts. “Yeah, right.”
“Okay, maybe just a little,” Steve admits. He puts a hand on Danny’s knee but retreats when he sees him wince.
“Is this going to hurt?”
Steve stifles a smile. “I’m just going to take a look at your mobility and show you a couple of basic exercises that you need to do at home. It might feel a little sore or uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt.”
Danny nods and takes a deep breath. Steve gently palpates the inside of his knee and carefully watches Danny’s face. He looks wary, maybe a little guarded, but not in pain as he watches Steve’s hands on his knee.
“Feel okay?” Steve asks. “I’m just checking the swelling, but it’s not too bad.”
“Yeah, it just feels tender.”
“Good. So your MCL is on the inside of your knee, and it protects your knee from bending inward. What I’m going to do now is test the strength in the ligament by pressing on the outside of your knee. We’re going to do this a lot to see how it’s healing, so always tell me if it hurts.”
“Oh I will, don’t worry.”
Steve laughs. “Somehow I don’t doubt it.”
He bends Danny’s leg just a little, places his hand on the outside of his knee, and leans his weight very gently into it.
“Ow, ow, ow,” Danny hisses, after just a few seconds, and Steve immediately releases.
“Sorry about that.”
“Well, you don’t seem pleased that I’m in pain, so this is already a step up from my last physical therapist.”
“I’m glad the bar is so low,” Steve says, and Danny huffs out a laugh.
“Yeah, lucky for you. What’s next?”
“We’re going to start off with two easy exercises,” Steve explains as he folds up a thick towel. He taps Danny’s leg to get him to bend his knee and then props his heel on the towel. “Start with your knee bent, just like this, and slowly straighten your leg. Let gravity do the work, and go just to the edge of discomfort. Yeah, that’s it. You need to do 20 reps of this, twice a day, every day.”
“This hurts more than I thought it would,” Danny says with a scowl.
“I know, it’s startling,” Steve says, wincing. He remembers all too well. “When all of a sudden it doesn’t work like it used to.”
Danny exhales sharply and grits his teeth as he finishes.
“Now we’re going to go the other way,” Steve says. “Start with your leg straight and slowly slide your heel up toward your butt, until you can feel it in your knee. Think of pulling with your hamstring and try to keep your knee relaxed. Yup, just like that. Same thing here: 20 reps, twice a day, every day.”
“How much should this hurt?”
“It’s going to be uncomfortable because you’re testing the ligament, but don’t go so far that you’re in actual pain,” Steve says, carefully watching Danny’s leg as he does the exercise. “How’d this happen anyway?”
“My partner and I were chasing this guy—real big Hawaiian guy—and he fell right on my knee.”
“Ouch. A moke, huh?”
“What the hell is a moke? Are you talking in Pidgin? Do I look like I know that language? Really?”
Steve can’t help but laugh at the affronted look on Danny’s face. “A moke is exactly what you described. Big local dude.”
Danny just rolls his eyes.
“Well, did you guys at least arrest him?”
“Sure did. And I thoroughly enjoyed adding assault of a police officer to his charges.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Steve says. “Good job, you can sit up. Be sure to keep up with those exercises, okay?”
“Every day, right?” Danny asks, and Steve nods, taking a seat once again in the stool.
“So MCL injuries are generally pretty straightforward in that they usually respond nicely to a combination of rest and physical therapy,” Steve begins. He’s glad to see Danny listening intently—his job is so much easier when the patients are invested. “But yours is complicated by two factors. The ACL helps to stabilize the MCL, and since you’ve injured yours before, we need to be a little bit more careful. Also, considering your job, we need to get you back to a higher level of strength and agility than most people would require.”
Danny nods slowly, his lip caught between his teeth. Steve averts his gaze.
“But I should be able to—to still be a cop, right? I mean, once this is healed.”
“I see no reason why not,” Steve says honestly. “As long as you keep up with the exercises and work hard, we should be good to go.”
“Okay,” Danny says, offering a small smile. “I think I can do that.”
“Good. So here we usually rotate patients among the therapists, but due to the slightly complicated nature of your case I’m going to keep you with me, okay?” Steve says. He definitely wants to keep a close eye on Danny, and the reason is completely professional. Well, 90% professional. “Just tell Mary at the front desk, and get appointments set up every week for the next ten weeks.”
Danny nods and stands carefully, grabbing his crutches from where they’ve been resting against the wall.
“Oh,” Steve says suddenly. “This week, you can move around more, though I’d still recommend taking it easy overall. And you should keep the brace on, but you can start to decrease the amount of time that you use the crutches. You have a cane? That would be helpful.”
“I do,” Danny says, holding his hand out for another shake. “Thanks, Steve.”
“You got it, Danny,” Steve says with a smile. “See you next week.”
Danny hobbles back to the waiting area, bracing gratefully against the reception desk when he gets there—his knee is definitely sore. He manages to smile at the receptionist, whose nametag says Mary.
“Hi,” she says brightly. “Danny, right? You need to schedule some more appointments?”
“Yeah, ten weeks. And Steve, uh, Steve said I need to stay with him?” Danny says.
Mary tries and fails to muffle a snort. “Yeah, I’ll bet,” she says under her breath.
“Excuse me?” Danny says with a frown.
“Oh, nothing. Any particular time of the day good for you?”
“Uh,” Danny says, thinking. “Mornings, I guess. Maybe before work?”
“How about 7:30 on Tuesdays?”
Danny grimaces but nods. Guess Steve’s gonna find out that he’s not exactly a morning person.
“Okay, then,” Mary says. “You’re all set, see you next week.”
“Thanks,” Danny says, sparing her a smile. He steps outside just in time to see Kono getting out of her car.
“Hey, buddy,” Kono says, and Danny only grunts in response. “How was it?”
“Awful,” he says with a groan as he lets her hold the door open for him. “Pure torture. Steve is an evil, evil man.”
But Kono only laughs, and Danny scowls harder. He awkwardly lowers himself into the passenger seat and fumbles with the car door.
“Oh really?” she says, back in the front seat and buckling her seat belt.
“Ugh,” Danny says as he glances out the window and spots Steve exiting out of a side door. “Speak of the devil.”
“Wait, that’s him?” Kono says, pointing through the windshield.
Danny nods and closes his eyes.
“So…what you mean to say is that you hate him because he’s so gorgeous, right?”
Danny groans and tips his head back against the seat. He rues the day he told Kono that he’s bi.
“Because I’m just saying,” she continues, “if I had that guy back when I hurt my knee, the PT woulda been a whole lot more fun.”
Danny pauses, then decides he’s too tired to fight her.
“He’s so hot it’s infuriating,” he admits. In his year as Kono’s partner, he’s learned that it’s much easier to just give in—she’s like a pit bull with a particularly tasty bone. Which is a great quality to have as a cop, but not so great when it comes to her relentless interest in Danny’s personal life.
“You should ask him out,” Kono says, nodding firmly. “For sure. You need to date more.”
“Are you insane?” Danny says, spreading his hands in incredulity. “There’s no way that guy would be interested—in men in general, in me specifically—because my luck is definitely just not that good.”
“Well, you’ll never know unless you ask!” Kono chirps, but Danny just rolls his eyes. He’s tired and his knee hurts, he has no desire to think any more about Dr. GQ.
“I’m serious, Danny,” Kono says. “You should ask him out.”
Danny leans forward and thunks his forehead on his desk. It’s been five days since his first appointment with Steve, and Kono will not let this go.
“Kono—”
“Let’s bet on it,” Kono says, interrupting him.
Danny sits up and narrows his eyes. “What exactly are we betting on here?”
“Okay,” Kono says. She looks way too excited, and that always scares Danny. “If I win, you have to ask him out. But if you win, I will do all our paperwork for two months.”
Danny automatically opens his mouth to say no, but then he pauses. Wow, two months. With the caseload that tends to pile up in their division, that would be a lot of work.
“What’s the bet?” he asks cautiously. “My options are a little limited here, you know.”
“Easy,” she scoffs. “Rock, paper, scissors.”
“Are you serious?” he says, chuckling. “You’re going to hedge two months of paperwork on a game of rock, paper, scissors?”
“Definitely,” she says.
Danny tilts his head and squints. “I dunno. You seem too confident. Are you cheating? Is there some secret Hawaiian trick to this game that I don’t know?”
“Of course not. Just a regular game,” Kono says, rolling her eyes. “We’ll even get a witness. Hey Meka!”
A couple seconds later Meka pokes his head in Danny’s office. “What’s up guys?”
“Danny and I are betting on rock, paper, scissors. You’re the judge.”
“Sure thing, brah. What are we betting on?”
“Not important,” Danny cuts in smoothly. He is not going to have his love life—or lack thereof—become fodder for office gossip. More so than it already has, that is. “Just be our impartial observer.”
“You got it. On three?”
He counts them down, and Danny throws paper. He grimaces and peeks down with one eye, then tips his head back in defeat when he sees Kono’s scissors. Kono celebrates, doing some sort of weird dance with Meka—who seems excited even though he doesn’t know what they’re betting on—and Danny groans.
“Fuck my life.”