Danny's shirt
A/N: DISCLAIMER: The following story is a work of fanfiction, and as such is for fan enjoyment only. All recognizable characters/settings are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is made.
A/N2: Just a short one-shot that I felt the need to write down. Not betaed. Please, let me know if there are too many (or too unforgivable) mistakes.
Every time he closed his eyes, it was there... painfully floral.
It was the best part of it all. And, ultimately, what should have warned him that that reality was just a joke. It had started innocently enough , with his dad alive when he should have been dead, saved by a serious, intense Danny, impeccably dressed and right there when he needed him, as always. Nothing new there. Heaven knew he had spent more than one night dreaming this same dream. Usually this was the moment when he woke up and went swimming so that he could push back down the deep ache he felt right in the middle of the chest. The drugs, though, and maybe his own unwillingness to return to the physical torture, had kept him anchored to that wonderful reality where he could still hug his father, talk to him and be happy with him. And if he could be happy, why couldn't his ohana be as happy as him?
Suddenly, his father's survival had become the key to happiness: Danny still happily married to Rachel and enamored of the Hawaii, Chin soon to become chief of the Honolulu police, Kono still surfing for a living. Never mind that Danny had divorced from Rachel and therefore unwillingly come to Hawaii, that Chin had been forced to leave the police and Kono had damaged her knee, all before his father's death. It didn't matter. What did matter was that his father was alive, he was happy, Danny, Chin, Kono, even Jenna - who had still her Joshua - were happy. Everything was perfect. So perfect that he could have lost himself there.
Was that why his mind had put some fail-safes along the way, some elements that just couldn't be right, like Kamekona in prison or Jerry overcome by his paranoia...or Danny's shirt? Because the reality he had been dreaming of, his father's survival, had been an impossibility. Like Danny's stupid floral shirt.
Who could blame him, then, if his eyes had searched for Danny's shirt collar while his friend informed him that his father had been dead for the last four years? After all, the voice was the same that, smiling proudly, had taught him that you said Mahalo in Hawaii to say thank you...but the shirt wasn't. This was a serious, classic shirt belonging to a serious, intense, sad, upset, divorced, Hawaii-hater Danny. To the real Danny.
And this, this was the worst part of it all. He had lost his father again.
A/N3: To my dad, who should have celebrated his birthday today.