Night Musings

There were things I wanted to tell you

But I knew they would hurt you

So I buried them

And let them hurt me

— Jonathan Foer

1:43am.

Steve McGarrett glanced at the clock glowing next to his bed and sighed.

He had been lying in bed for over an hour but sleep was eluding him completely. Folding his hands behind his head, he groaned. It was too late to go back to work and too early to start his morning routine so swimming was out of the question. Maybe he could go out for a run, work his muscles until he tired himself enough to catch a few hours of sleep.

The mattress shifted. Beside him, Eddie stirred as if sensing his owner's restlessness. The golden lab tilted his head, tail wagging, and fixed his big, brown eyes on him.

"Hey, buddy. Sorry I woke you up," he said, patting the dog on the head. Opening his home to the DEA k9 had been one of the best decisions he'd ever made. The house had been too cold and empty lately, the silence greeting him every night too ominous. Steve liked his solitude, sure. Even enjoyed it most of the time. But Lynn rarely stayed over, and Junior was more a roommate he shared his space with than someone he could talk to, and Steve occasionally longed for more.

Eddie had filled that void. The former war dog was, in many ways, just as damaged as he was. They'd both lost people they cared about, experienced life in a combat zone and had, since their paths crossed, shared a special bond. So when the time had come to return Eddie so they could find him a new home, Steve had sat in the Silverado outside the building, working up the nerve to ask if he could keep him. Not because he was afraid they wouldn't grant him the request, but because he'd never cared for anyone else before, either person or animal.

A month and a half later, he could tell with absolute certainty that his life quality had improved significantly thanks to his four-legged friend. Eddie was a great stress reliever.

Because he was stressed.

Or was he?

That was apparently the question on everyone's mind lately, and the true reason he was still awake and staring at the ceiling.

His partner had ambushed him in his own home, telling him it was about time he started caring about himself.

I found out there are some things- some steps- you can take to insure that you are tumor-free for the rest of the flick. Studies have shown that there is a link to cancer and stress. Particularly when the thyroid has been compromised, so a person like you needs to eliminate all psychological stress, if possible.

You don't need any stress. Stress is not your friend right now.

Danny had done research, and so had Lou. Despite the initial dismay, he had been truly touched by everyone's concern. Only he didn't think there was a problem. He was perfectly capable of handling any stressful situation. He had been trained for that. Repeatedly.

So why was that bothering him?

Because it had turned out his friend was the one needing counsel. Danny was the one doing what he should've done. Searching for options, treatment plans, ways to cope with the silent illness ravaging his body from the inside. Asking for help. Ensuring that he lived a full, tumor-free life.

Cancer. That's not gonna happen. We're not gonna let that happen.

He had buried his head in the sand, leaving Danny to do all the work.

Shaking his head, Steve propped himself on his elbows and leaned against the headrest, eliciting a dissatisfactory moan from Eddie who was forced to give up his position and settle elsewhere.

Danny was losing sleep over him. Instead of worrying about his kids and himself, the man was running himself ragged because of him. And keeping everything inside.

Without even realizing it, Steve reached for his cell phone on the nightstand. He found Danny's number at the top of his 'recent calls' list and started the call, only to hastily press the 'end' button a few seconds later. It was two in the morning. Danny was probably asleep. And if he wasn't, Steve wasn't going to be the one to keep him awake longer than necessary.

He could deal with his own stress. He could deal with anything life threw at him. Being here, in this very moment, was proof of it. He had survived many dire situations, beaten impossible odds. Cancer would only be another obstacle on his road. He would deal with it if and when the time came.

Throwing the sheets to the side, he swung his legs off the bed, grabbed the phone and stood up. "I'll be back, buddy."

Eddie raised his head and gave him a confused stare. Usually when Steve moved, Eddie moved. The dog followed him around everywhere. Steve held out one hand. "It's alright, you just sleep."

The golden lab watched him leave the room and disappear downstairs. Then he yawned, and was asleep within minutes.

Danny Williams was watching yet another infomercial. He could recite every line of the boring, endless program, and probably convince anyone to buy the teflon non-stick pan that promised to create delicious and healthful meals if need be. What that said about him, he didn't want to know.

It had been the same every night lately. If he was lucky, he'd get three to four hours of uninterrupted sleep. Otherwise, he'd just sit on the couch, turn on the TV and either focus on those stupid shows or drown them out as white noise as his thoughts raced. Grace was often on his mind, worrying him with her teenage drama, and so was his partner and friend, who seemed hell-bent on making his life miserable. Even more than usual. Steve was sick, struggling with an illness whose outcome was still a mystery to all, and yet he hadn't slowed down a bit, thinking he was still the same crazy SEAL who had come back to the island eight years ago to avenge his father's death.

Danny spent all his days watching Steve's back and being the voice of reason, and Steve got hurt anyway. And every time he left the island to go back to Jersey, every damn time, he'd get a phone call or a text that his partner had injured yet another part of his body.

He had tried to cut him some slack. He really had, at first. He knew a diagnosis like that wouldn't be easy to accept for Steve, who was a man of action and simply did not quit. Ever. But the excuse had gotten old fast, and Danny had convinced himself that his friend was simply ignoring the issue. Pretend it didn't exist. So Danny had taken matters into his own hands and staged that awkward intervention, hoping it would shake some sense into him.

But the intervention had backfired on him, and Danny had been the one admitting to being stressed. And scared. Because Steve was his best friend and he wasn't willing to contemplate a life where the stubborn putz wasn't around. That, he hadn't admitted, but the two of them had never needed words to understand each other. One always knew what the other was thinking.

So when his phone rang at 2:03 in the morning, he knew it was Steve wanting to apologize in his own weird, clumsy way.

"Steve?"

Steve hesitated on the other end of the line. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I was… No. You alright?" The question had taken a whole new meaning recently, as Danny had witnessed his friend's spells and their aftermath on more than one occasion.

"I'm okay," the ex-SEAL reassured him, and heard Danny sigh in relief. "Listen man, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean for you to worry."

Danny shook his head. Seriously? What the hell was wrong with the man? "Is that all you—That's not the point, Steve. That's not why I shared my concerns with you." Of course Steve was blaming himself. He had mastered the art to a tee over the years.

"I know. But I don't want you to stress about me."

"I can't help it, Steve. I know it's hard to get that through to that thick skull of yours but that's what family does." Danny's free hand was cutting through the air, emphasizing the point to an invisible audience. "You, uh… you care about someone, you worry. Especially when that someone's a stubborn, emotionally-impaired child."

Steve closed his eyes and rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger, grateful for the dark surrounding him and concealing the tears that were stinging them. Snippets of the conversation they'd had earlier came back to his mind.

'I am genuinely scared for your health. Okay? I lay up at night, I'm sick about it. I can't sleep.'

'Why wouldn't you say something to me?'

'What am I gonna say to you? That I'm stressed about the fact that you are not taking this thing seriously about your own health? I'm not gonna put that on you. It's my own thing. What am I gonna say to you?'

"You should've told me, man," he said quietly. "You should've told me what was going through your head."

"And you should've told me you're scared." Danny's reply was immediate. "We can fight this thing together, man, but I gotta know you're on board. I can't do this alone."

Steve nodded. His friend was right. Again. He tried to think of something to say but couldn't seem to find the words to express what he was feeling.

A horn blared nearby. Danny sat up on the couch and glanced at the clock. "Where are you?"

"Outside."

Ten seconds later, the light to Danny's porch flickered on and his friend's silhouette appeared on the doorstep. Steve watched him lean against the doorframe and put the phone back to his ear. "Are you planning on getting out of that truck anytime soon?"

Steve's lips curled into a smile as he ended the call and put the device back in his pocket, then got out of the Silverado and approached the house.

"Hey," he said awkwardly.

"Hey."

"I couldn't sleep."

"Me neither." Danny ushered him inside and closed the door. "Were you planning to sit outside all night?"

Steve stared at the muted TV and the blanket strewn over the couch, conjuring a picture of his friend spending another sleepless night. "I don't know, man. Listen I…I've been thinking about what you said to me earlier, and I guess I can make some adjustments to uh, you know, manage my health better." He ran a hand through his short hair, fixing his gaze on a random spot in front of him. "I'm not taking up gardening or anything, and I can't promise you to step down and watch from the sidelines because that's just not who I am. I know my body, and I know how far I can push it. But you were willing to change for me so I'll try to…compromise." Drawing in a breath, he finally met Danny's eyes. "That's, uh… that's what I wanted to tell you."

The two men stared at each other for a long moment, finishing the conversation in their heads.

'I'm not ignoring this. And I promise you I'll take it seriously.'

'That's good. You know I'm here for you, man. Whatever you need.'

'I know. And I'm grateful for the support. That's why I came here.'

Danny sat down on the couch. "I appreciate that. I mean, you could've told me tomorrow but hey, I'll take it," he finished with a smile.

Steve pointed to the TV. "What, am I interrupting something?"

"Yeah, actually I was considering buying a couple of these for the restaurant. Do you know they last seven times longer than pans with ceramic or silicone coatings?"

Steve looked at Danny as if he'd grown a second head. This was good. The banter. It was familiar and reassuring. He settled on the couch next to his friend. "Thanks, man," he whispered solemnly, "I know I don't say it often but I really appreciate what you do."

"I know you do." Danny shifted in his seat, adjusting his body so he could face his friend. "You've changed a lot, you know? Over the years? You're not the same man I met eight years ago, and I like to think that I'm responsible for a least part of that change, for softening you a bit." It was true. Fresh-out-of-active-service McGarrett would've fled the house the minute he saw all those people gathered in his living room and would've never, ever admitted to being scared, or talk about his feelings. "You're the bravest man I know, Steve," he continued. "You went through so much in your life I don't really know how you're still sane and functioning. I know this is hard for you, but we'll get through it together. Alright?"

Steve nodded and leaned back on the couch. "So you're cutting me some slack."

"Absolutely not! You're not getting any special treatment." Danny countered, reaching for the remote. "Now, look at this thing and tell me if it wouldn't be perfect to cook my fettuccine primavera."

"Not happening. I'm gonna exercise my veto on this one."

Danny rolled his eyes in amusement. "Again with the veto. Didn't I tell you you don't get to have one?" The exchange about the restaurant reminded him of what the consultant had told him. "You know, the, uh… stress lady said starting a business can be very stressful," he admitted, deciding to leave the 60% to 80% failure-rate part out.

"I'm in, Danny. 100%," Steve replied firmly, no hesitation in his voice. "Whatever happens, we're in this together. I'm not backing out of it."

Danny nodded, flipping absently through the channels. "Good. That's good." His eyes suddenly lit up as he focused on an action sequence on the screen. "Smokey and the Bandit! Bridget and I used to watch it all the time."

His friend's contagious smile made Steve's mouth curl up as well. "Really? I've never watched it."

"What? How could you have never watched it, it's a classic! You know, she said the Bandit reminded her of you."

"Why?" Steve asked, intrigued.

Danny propped his feet up on the coffee table and unmuted the TV. "You'll see."

"Doesn't look like my kind of movie."

"Give it a try, alright?"

Steve sighed. "Okay."

Five minutes later, they were both fast asleep.

THE END