Author's Note: This is my first Hawaii 5-0 piece, and the first story I've written for a TV series while it is actively on air. I love Danny's angst and Steve's compassion – both are badass, loveable cops in their own rights.
I maintain my assertion that they are the new Starsky and Hutch. (Does anyone else think Kamekona is kind of like a modern Huggy Bear? Anyone?) :)
Warnings: Minor character death, some language. I have seen most, not all of the episodes, so forgive me for any mistakes. Also, I have gone through and revised the story for continuity errors.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but plot, which is shamelessly angsty.
This is just a little somethin' different I decided to throw out. Let me know what you think.
Chapter 1: Loss
Detective Danny Williams sits at the kitchen table in his ex-wife's house, hunched over a cup of coffee that has long grown cold.
His eyes stare vacantly at the ticking clock on the opposing wall, his thoughts frozen in the grip of a memory from another moment, a day that had changed everything….
He had been at a crime scene in the south part town, jotting down information from the HPD about a series of home burglaries that had occurred over the weekend, the last of which had turned deadly.
It was pretty clear from the evidence that the burglars were sloppy amateurs, most likely a group of teenagers trying to get their hands on prescription drugs. Unfortunately, the owner of the last house they broke into, an elderly man, was home sleeping, and had confronted the burglars with a tennis racket. He ended up in ICU with multiple stab wounds, his recovery unlikely. Five-0 was called in to take over for HPD, as the department was swamped this time of year. Danny estimated the case would be wrapped up within hours – a nice change of pace considering their usual fare of terrorists and kidnappers.
It was a good thing too, because the day was swelteringly, inhumanely hot, even for Hawaii. Danny could already feel the sweat imprinting stains of moisture under his armpits.
'Another work shirt ruined,' he thought irritably, craning his neck to wipe his sweaty brow across the shoulder of his shirt.
He glanced across the street at Kono and Chin, who were kneeling on the sidewalk, bagging and tagging evidence from the break-in. Neither of them seemed to be sweating.
And where was Steve while the rest of the mere mortals worked and slaved in the heat? Steve was in an air-conditioned office having his monthly sit-down with the Governor.
"Pineapple-infested hell…." Danny muttered to himself.
The HPD officer gave him a strange look, and Danny rolled his eyes.
He had to admit, he missed having the Super-SEAL around to bitch to – it made the job more interesting, more bearable.
"I'm sorry – don't mind me, I'm only having a heat stroke here," Danny retorted sarcastically, his arms windmilling in typical fashion. "What were you saying?"
Just as the HPD officer began to speak again, Danny felt the familiar vibration of his blackberry through his dress pants pocket.
"S'cuse me." He held up one hand, using the other to pull the phone up next to his ear.
"Williams," he barked, using the back of his hand to wipe dripping sweat off of his cheek.
"Detective Williams, this is the Leahi Hospital. Are you related to a Rachel Edwards?"
Danny froze, his face slackening into a neutral expression as his gut clenched – a call from the hospital was never good news.
His first thought was of Grace.
Turning his body away from the HPD officer in a feeble attempt at privacy, his fingers clenched around the phone as he stammered out fearful words.
"Hospital? Wha-what…?"
'Not Grace…don't let it be Grace….' he prayed silently.
"We need you to come to the hospital right away, detective."
Danny's chest tightened, all moisture evaporating from his mouth suddenly as his breath caught in his throat. He'd been a cop too long not to recognize these kinds of calls – that tone of voice. 'Please…please, no….'
"Why, what happened?"
He squinted in the Hawaiian sun, already making a beeline for his Camaro.
"I'm sorry sir, but it's against hospital policy to give out such information over the phone."
Danny's red-hot fury, ever simmering below the surface of his boisterous personality, erupted in a nanosecond. He wasn't even aware of the words babbling past his lips, so consumed he was by the fear seizing his heart.
"Hey! Hey! You listen to me, okay?" Danny shouted into his phone, his finger viciously jabbing the air. "I am a detective with the Five-0 taskforce, okay? Detective Danny Williams, badge number 7475 – and I swear to god I will come up there and find something to arrest you for, you understand? So you've got about thirty seconds to tell me what the hell is going on!"
The woman on the other end had the good graces to sound apologetic.
"I'm very sorry, sir. All I can tell you is that Mrs. Edwards was in a very serious accident this afternoon. You were listed as her second emergency contact. We could not reach her husband by phone."
Danny swore, a trembling hand reaching up to massage a suddenly aching forehead. He had just spoken with her on the phone a few hours ago, after she had dropped Grace off at school.
That meant Grace wasn't with her.
'Thank you, God,' he thought in silent, fervent gratitude.
His heart still lodged uncomfortably in his throat at the thought of his Rachel in pain.
"Just tell me how bad it is. Please," he said, his voice octaves lower than it had been seconds ago. "Is she…?"
There was no mistaking the nurse's solemn tone. "Detective, I think you should come right away."
He left the scene without telling Chin or Kono where he was going, rubber tires leaving burnt tread marks on steaming tar.
It was a good hour before either of them realized he was missing.
"Can I make us pancakes, Danno?"
He jerks violently, startled by the sudden presence of his eight-year-old daughter. Rubbing a hand roughly over his heavily-stubbled face, he turns bleary green eyes to her and attempts a smile.
"Sure, monkey. Whatever you want."
But the tone lacks its usual buoyancy, and Grace hesitates, staring at her father with a mixed look of confusion and fear.
"Why are you sad, daddy?" She asks softly, and Danny's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his daughter's words.
He can't remember the last time she called him 'daddy.' It has always been 'Danno,' her special name for him.
For a moment, he is too terrified to speak, so he slips out of the chair and onto his knees, gathering his daughter into his arms.
"I'm sorry Daddy hasn't been much fun to be around, lately," he manages, refusing to let the burning tears seep past his eyelids.
"You have been kind of a bore," she replies with a child's simple honesty.
A rough chuckle escapes Danny's throat – a strangled sound that makes the small girl pull away from him.
"What's wrong, Danno?" She pleads earnestly, her little hands pressed against her father's chest. "You can tell me; I'm real good at keeping a secret."
Danny swallows, unable to look his daughter in the eyes. "I'm sure you are, baby girl."
"Mommy says if you're sad about something, you should talk about it. It will help you feel better."
Something inside of Danny breaks at her words, and he gently pushes away from her, his bad knee cracking as he rises to his feet.
"Why don't you go make those pancakes, monkey?" He whispers brokenly.
Grace can only stare as her father walks away, the guest-bedroom door clicking shut quietly behind him.
As soon as Steve's cell rings, he knows its Danny, and his hand fumbles to yank the device from his pocket without taking his eyes off of the road.
"Danny," he answers quickly, without preamble.
"Uncle Steve?"
"Grace?" Steve's eyes narrow in surprise and then confusion when he hears the little girl's voice.
"Grace – where's your dad? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Uncle Steve – but something's wrong with Danno."
Steve has to strain to hear her staged whispers, but there is no mistaking her urgency. Palming the wheel in vicious circles, he makes a sharp u-turn in the middle of the street.
He can make it to the house from this part of town in less than twenty minutes – ten if he speeds.
"Well, Commander McGarrett, thank you for the update," Governor Jameson said, rising to her feet.
"You're welcome, ma'am," Steve replied.
"It's only been a few months and already Hawaii is indebted to you and your team. I'm very impressed with your work, Steve."
The Navy SEAL allowed a small smile to grace his lips. "Thank you, Governor."
"I am however, concerned about one thing," she paused for effect.
Steve frowned, leaning forward with heightened attention. "Ma'am?"
"I worry that you and your team are working too hard."
Steve blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected that.
"None of you have had any time off in God-knows how long – aren't you worried about burning out?"
Steve stammered out a response. "We have days off—"
"Commander, I'm talking about real time off. A vacation. You and your team have highly dangerous, highly stressful jobs. You're all under a lot of pressure on the daily basis. I know that with your military training you may not feel like you need much down-time, but as the leader of your team, you have to think of them, too."
Steve's spine stiffened a bit at the subtle reprimand.
"What course of action do you suggest I take?"
The Governor smiled. "Steve, I'm not in any way putting your leadership skills into question. I'm merely suggesting that when the time is right, see to it that you and your team take a couple weeks off. Just clear it with me first."
Steve's reply was cut off by the sound of his cell phone. He fumbled for the device, mentally cursing himself for not turning it off before his monthly sit-down with the Governor.
He saw the caller ID and glanced up at the older woman. "It's Chin – probably about the case we're working on – I should take this call."
The Governor nodded in understanding. "I have another meeting in a few minutes, anyway. I'll see you in another month, Commander."
Steve was already halfway out the door.
"Chin? What's up?"
Chin sounded apprehensive.
"Have you heard from Danny?"
"No, why?" Steve replied, trying to suppress the sudden sick feeling in his stomach.
"Well, he was here at the crime scene with me and Kono all morning, and now we can't find him. His car's gone. One of the officers here said he peeled out about an hour ago after getting a phone call."
"Well have you tried calling his cell?"
"Of course we did. No answer."
"Alright, look – I'm sure it's nothing. I'll see if I can track him down; let me know if you or Kono hear from him."
"Will do."
Steve's grip tightens on the phone.
"Grace, where's your dad? Where's Danno?"
"He's in the guest room. I told him I would make us pancakes, and he didn't even smile. I think he's sad. Danno loves my pancakes! We make pancakes every time I visit! But mommy says I'm not allowed to turn on the stove by myself – I can't make pancakes without the stove!"
Grace's voice is petulant, and Steve struggles to make sense of the eight-year-old's rant. He shakes his head in mild frustration. Something about pancakes?
"Grace, I'm sorry honey, but I'm not sure what's going on. Is your dad okay?"
"Danno's sad, Uncle Steve, and I don't know why. I told him mommy always tells me that if you're sad about something, you should talk about it. He won't talk to me, but you're his partner, so he'll have to talk to you, right Uncle Steve? And then we can make pancakes."
Steve heaves a sigh, his eyes falling shut momentarily.
"Listen, Grace, I'm on my way – I'll be there in just a couple minutes and once I get there, I promise that I'll let you make those pancakes, alright?"
"You promise?"
"Cross my heart," Steve replies, dead-serious. He would never break a promise to Grace.
"And you'll talk to Danno?"
Steve sighs again. "Yes, I promise I'll talk to Danno."
"Okay – thanks Uncle Steve! Bye!"
After the call ends, Steve loosens his grip on the phone, absently tapping the edge of the device against the side of his head.
"What are you doing, Danny?" He wonders aloud as the car turns down his partner's ex-wife's street.
Danny had felt like a caged animal.
He'd been told to wait in a conference room; that the doctor would be in to talk to him soon.
That was twenty minutes ago, and Danny was sure he'd have an aneurysm if he had to wait any longer.
When he heard the door slide open, he stopped his mad pacing and whirled around.
"How is she?"
"Mr. Williams, why don't you sit down?" The doctor asked, a portly Hawaiian man in scrubs.
"No, I do not want to sit down, I want to know how my ex-wife is," Danny retorted through grit teeth.
The doctor sighed. "Mrs. Edwards was in very serious car accident, Mr. Williams. The car flipped and rolled several times."
Danny shifted his weight anxiously from one foot to the other as he absently rubbed his forehead, trying to make sense of it all.
It was getting hard to breathe, like all of the air was slowly being sucked from the room.
"Okay. Okay, but uh – she was wearing her seatbelt, right? A-and the airbags…." He trailed off, his voice weak.
"Neither of them could have saved her. She suffered massive internal hemorrhaging. We lost her on the operating table."
Danny resumed pacing, slower than before, his hand rubbing anxiously over his mouth and across his cheeks. He couldn't believe it.
Rachel was dead.
"No." His tone was one of shock and disbelief.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Williams. Is there anyone you'd like me to call?"
"No," Danny replied again, a breathless whisper.
And something inside of him shattered.
Grace greets him excitedly at the door. "Uncle Steve!"
"Hi, Gracie – is your dad still in the guest room?"
"Uh-huh. Are you going to go talk to him now?"
"Sure am. But first – how about I let you get started on those pancakes?"
Grace smiles from ear to ear as she and Steve get together everything needed to make pancakes – milk, eggs, butter, flour, sugar, baking powder, and oil.
"Don't forget the chocolate chips!" Grace cries suddenly, flinging open a cupboard door.
Steve just smiles sadly. Her happiness belies the cruel reality of Rachel's death. The girl has been motherless since Wednesday morning, and she doesn't even know it.
"Come find me when you're done making the mix, and I'll turn on the stove for you, okay?"
"Okay," Grace readily agrees, already measuring out the flour.
Steve's smile quickly shifts into a frown as he makes his way back to the guest bedroom, lifting his hand to knock on the door.
He suddenly remembers when Danny's little brother was in town, how Danny said he had talked him back from the ledge every night for six months after he split with Rachel.
Losing Rachel to the divorce, Stan, and Hawaii had enraged his partner; losing Rachel to death just might kill him.
A sharp stab of guilt hits him hard – he should have been here. He should have stayed with Danny after dropping him off the other night. Instead, he'd gotten preoccupied wrapping up the loose ends of a case with Chin and Kono.
Danny is his partner and the closest thing he has to a brother.
Family comes first. Ohana.
Steve will not let him go through this alone.
He knocks.
"McGarrett," he growled into his phone. Worry for his AWOL partner had him on edge.
"Commander McGarrett, this is Officer Jack Frisk, HPD. We have one of your men, Detective Danny Williams, here at the station."
'Thank God,' Steve thinks, throwing his head back in exasperation.
"What happened?"
"Well, he caused quite a ruckus over at Leahi hospital. We really didn't want to arrest him, but he was combative, so we were forced to cuff him."
"Danny was arrested?" Steve asks, his voice sharp with disbelief.
"It's a sad situation, if you ask me, Commander. Honestly, we were hoping you could come down here and sort it out."
"I'll be there in ten."
"Danno's not hungry right now, Grace," Danny answers from inside the bedroom, his voice hollow.
Steve's frown deepens, and he turns the doorknob to enter the room.
"Grace says you love pancakes," he announces nonchalantly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning against the wall.
Danny is sprawled across the bed, his face hidden by the arm flung over his eyes.
Steve immediately notices the change in attire. Danny's wearing honest-to-god pajama bottoms, a plaid mix of red and green. He's also wearing a faded grey unbuttoned shirt over a white t-shirt.
Danny removes his arm just in time to see Steve's face crinkle into a grin.
"What? What's that face for?" He demands, but his voice sounds more tired than Steve's ever heard it.
"Nothing, it's just – I've never seen you dressed so…casual."
"You know, you could be a woman for how much attention you pay to people's choice in attire."
"Well maybe that's because your choice of attire sucks," Steve jokes, but the banter falls flat.
A moment of uncomfortable silence passes between them, before Danny places his hand wearily over his brow.
"Grace called you, I assume?"
"You should be a detective."
"Funny."
Steve crosses his arms in front of his chest.
"What's going on, Danny? I thought you were going to tell her."
Danny exhales sharply, before rolling to a sitting position.
Not for the first time, Steve notices how ragged his partner looks. Face drawn, dark circles frame the red-rimmed and bloodshot eyes, and his friend hasn't shaved in days.
"You look like hell, Danno."
The detective snorts. "Feel like it, too."
"Look, Grace knows something's up. Told me you were sad and wanted me to talk to you."
"Well, I'm sorry about that. You didn't have to stop by," Danny says, his arm rising in a vague gesture before flopping back down next to his side.
"Come on, Danny, don't pull that shit. I'm not here out of obligation, I'm your friend. Okay? Now I understand you're in pain, man, but Grace needs you."
Danny eyes furrow in anger, and he raises a warning finger. "Hey, don't lecture me about being a father, alright? Not until you have a kid of your own."
Steve runs his hand through his hair, exasperated.
"It's been two days, Danny," he hisses. "The funeral is the day after tomorrow - just how long do you think you can keep this from her?"
He expects Danny to become enraged at his words, but the opposite occurs. Steve watches as his partner deflates before him, trembling hands rising to cover his haggard face.
"God, Steven," the blonde man moans softly. "What am I supposed to say to her?"
He lets his hands fall from his face, no longer bothering to hide his anguish or the fact that his eyes are watering.
Steve remains silent, his own eyes suspiciously bright. They both know he doesn't have any answers.
Restlessly, Danny rocks forward, hands gripping his knees. His head turns toward the window as he speaks, his voice distant.
"I keep going over it in my head, you know? What I'll say. I keep imagining the look on Grace's face when I tell her that she's never gonna see her mommy again. I keep waiting, hoping that I'm just having a nightmare or something - that I'll wake up and everything will be back to normal. Rachel won't be dead, and I won't have to see that look on my baby girl's face."
He smiles grimly. "I guess that makes me a coward, huh?"
"You're not a coward. You're a good father," Steve says quietly. "It'll take time, but you and Grace will get through this."
"I never thought it'd turn out this way. Rachel…." He swallows hard as the name falls from his lips.
"She always said one of the biggest reasons she divorced me was because she didn't want to have to someday tell Grace that I'd been killed on the job."
He shakes his head again, wincing at his own emotional pain.
Steve walks forward to place his hand on Danny's slumped shoulder.
"What can I do? You name it, Danny. Anything."
Danny tips his head back to look up at his partner, giving him a firm nod, his voice hoarse and strained with emotion. "You're doing it. Thanks, man."
Steve gives a small smile in return before removing his hand.
"So, are you going to tell her?"
Danny sighs. "I'm gonna have to."
"You want me to stay?"
"If you want. I have a feeling I'm gonna need a few beers when this is all over."
Danny rises to his feet, frowns as a bout of dizziness assaults him, and nearly crumbles in on himself, saved only by Steve's firm grip on his arm.
"Whoa…you okay? When's the last time you ate, Danny?"
Danny grabs his head as the dizziness passes, his brow furrowed.
"Um...can't remember," he mumbles in response.
"Well, you're gonna eat something now," Steve says, not bothering to mask his concern as he leads his partner by the arm out to the kitchen.
"Hope you're in the mood for chocolate-chip pancakes."
Steve has been waiting out in the living room for almost three hours, ever since Danny led Grace upstairs to her room.
He thinks he heard the girl sobbing, but that was some time ago, and now the house seems still.
His mind wanders to two nights ago, when he found Danny down at HPD headquarters...
The blonde man was sitting by himself on a bunk in a holding cell, his back hunched forward, his cuffed hands clasped tightly between his knees.
Steve's nostrils flared in anger at the sight of his friend handcuffed.
"Why is he cuffed?" He demanded of the officer who brought him back. "Get 'em off. Now."
Danny made no attempt at a greeting, and remained still as the officer carefully released the metal constraints from his wrists.
Steve waited to speak until the officer left, the red bruise on Danny's cheekbone not going unnoticed.
He sighed. "Danny...are you alright?"
The other man nodded, still not making eye contact.
"I've been trying to reach you all day, man. What the hell's going on?"
Danny looked upset, his eyes glazed and red-rimmed.
"Rachel's dead."
Steve froze in shock. "What?"
He sat down slowly next his friend on the bunk, brow furrowed in confusion.
"It was a car wreck. She died on the operating table. Doctor said it was...massive internal injuries."
His partner's voice was monotone – a hollow, unsettling sound.
Steve swallowed hard before speaking, not really knowing what to say.
"Danny…I'm sorry, man. I'm so sorry."
"I haven't told Grace yet. She's at home with a sitter. Stan's in China on business. He won't be back for a couple days."
Steve nodded absently. The thought of his friend sitting here since the early afternoon - dealing with this magnitude of a loss, alone - disturbed him.
'You should have called me, Danno,' he thought, but the words never made it to his lips.
Instead he said, "I talked to the doctor at Leahi – he's going to drop the charges."
"Well, that is good," Danny replied too quickly, his hands rubbing the top of his thighs anxiously.
"You wanna tell me what happened? They were going to charge you with disorderly conduct and resisting arrest," Steve said.
Danny let out a shaky exhale.
"I don't know I just…lost it. The doctor was standing there, telling me that the mother of my child was dead. The next thing I know I'm surrounded by broken glass, everybody's yelling, and I'm being carted off in handcuffs."
"Yeah, I think they said you threw a chair through a plate-glass window."
"Oh."
Neither of them spoke for a minute, Danny's emotions rolling off him in waves. Steve felt at a loss.
"What can I do, Danny?"
Danny sighed.
"Give me a ride Rachel's? I gotta be with Grace, now."
He hears padded footsteps behind him, and turns just as Danny strolls in from the hallway.
The shorter man flops next to Steve on the couch, his hand absently running across his mouth.
"Well?" Steve prompts. "How is she?"
Danny sighs. "She's sleeping now…she cried for a long time."
Steve nods slowly. "That's...understandable."
"Yeah," Danny replies dully, then looks up at his partner, a lost expression in his eyes.
"I think I need a beer."
The taller man grunts softly, a sad, sympathetic smile tugging the corners of his mouth. He is no stranger to grief. It has been less than a year since he lost his father. He understands the sleeplessness, restlessness, and soul-deep pain that come with losing a loved one. He also knows that no amount of alcohol will dull that kind of hurt.
"I think you need sleep."
"Okay. Beer, then sleep."
Danny seems unusually pliant, but Steve can sense the other man's frailty, and decides not to push.
"I'll get it," he replies, heading out to the adjacent kitchen. He returns with two chilled glass bottles, one of which he hands to Danny.
"You wanna go out on the back porch and get some air?" He suggests.
Danny nods slowly. "Yeah, that'd be good."
As they stand side by side on the porch with the cool Hawaiian breeze brushing against their skins, Danny takes a long swig of his beer, letting the amber liquid slide down a throat thick with unshed tears.
Steve studies his partner in the dimming light, and realizes he is looking at a broken man.
"What're you staring at?" Danny demands suddenly, his eyes never leaving the horizon as his lips hover over the mouth of the beer bottle.
"Nothing," Steve replies with a shrug, quickly glancing away.
"Don't say that. You were staring at me. What? What is it - I got something on my face? What?"
Steve shakes his head almost imperceptibly; his eyes solemn as they travel back to meet his partner's piercing gaze.
"Look, I know you think I'm 'emotionally stunted', but I'm here if you want to talk, Danno."
The corners of the Detective's mouth turn up in a tiny grin.
"Emotionally stunted, huh? That's good; I like that."
For the longest time, neither of them speaks, but continue gazing out at the setting Hawaiian sun.
"I never stopped loving her. You know?" Danny says quietly.
Steve just nods, knowing Danny needs this, however uncomfortable the conversation may be.
"When it was good, back in the beginning, god – it was disgusting how much we loved each other."
"We were one of 'those' couples, you know? I never had that kind of passion with anybody else. I swear our honeymoon lasted three years."
He tips the bottle back, taking another long swallow. "It was my fault we got divorced. She kept wanting me to make changes, but it was like I was addicted to the job."
His mind wanders back to the night their marriage fell apart.
Danny walked in the door around 3 a.m., not bothering to turn on the lights in the living room. Easing his jacket off bruised shoulders, he tossed the garment onto nearby chair.
He walked past the kitchen, then startled as he saw his wife sitting in the dimmed light at the kitchen table.
"Rachel? Baby, what are you doing up?" He asked, genuinely concerned once he noticed the tear tracks on her cheeks. He walked out into the kitchen, a calloused hand reaching out to cup her face.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't do this anymore, Danny," she replied thickly, a tissue crumpled in her trembling fist.
Danny has never forgotten how she jerked away from his touch.
"Can't do what anymore? What are you talking about? Is Grace alright?"
"Yes, yes, Grace is fine," Rachel answered, frustrated. "At least as far as you're concerned."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It was on the news, Danny. They said three detectives from the 12th precinct were killed, and two others were wounded. You never called."
Danny shut his eyes and raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"Oh…Rachel, I'm an idiot, alright? I'm so sorry, I – I was stupid, I just got caught up in everything and—"
"That's not good enough anymore. Grace saw it on the news. Our daughter came to me in tears, saying 'bad men were shooting at daddy'."
Danny sighed. "Okay – where is she? I'll go talk to her."
"You can't, she's in bed, sleeping – Danny, it's three in the morning," Rachel replied incredulously.
Danny sighed again, flustered.
"Right, okay. I'll talk to her tomorrow, I promise. Baby, I'm so sorry I didn't call."
"I can't do it anymore, Danny. I won't. It's not fair to Grace, not knowing if her father is going to come home every night…being witness to that violence. It's not healthy."
She paused, her eyes filling with tears as she gazed at her husband, noting the black eye, swollen lip, and the way he held himself as if in pain.
"Look at you. You're exhausted. You come home all beaten and bruised at any hour of the night – I can't live this way."
"What – what are you saying, Rachel? What is this?" Danny asked, throwing out his hands.
The tears fell anew from her eyes as she slid a stack of papers toward him.
"I'm divorcing you, Daniel. It's for the best. I have to think of Grace."
It took a moment before he could speak past the shock. Then came the anger.
"You think her growing up with divorced parents is going to be the best for her?" Danny replied in disbelief, wincing at the twinge of protest his shoulder made against his wind-milling arm.
"You think that taking her away from her father is for the best?"
"Please, Daniel. No one is taking Grace away from you. You'll have visitation. It'll be little different than it is now. She hardly sees you as it is."
Danny sat down hard in a kitchen chair, his knees suddenly too weak to hold his weight as the reality of what was happening dawned on him.
"Your world is a dangerous one, Daniel. I don't want our daughter exposed to that world."
"We can work this out," he said weakly, his voice shaking. "I can fix this."
She placed a hand on his arm, her words as chilled as her touch.
"There's nothing left to fix. I'm sorry."
"You know, my parents have been married for 33 years," Danny says suddenly.
"Really?" Steve asks, and Danny nods.
"My grandparents were married for 53 years. Grandma died three weeks after my grandpa. I'm the first in the Williams family to have a failed marriage. It's quite a thing to be known for, let me tell you."
"Lots of marriages don't work out," Steve points out, knowing it's a gross understatement.
"I could've tried harder."
"Danny, I know you. Grace is the most important thing in your life. I'm sure you tried as hard you could."
"I guess that's what's so sad about it, huh?" Danny replies bitterly.
"Don't do this to yourself, Danno. Nothing you could've done could have prevented what happened."
"You don't know that," Danny insists, the arm holding the beer bottle gesturing in Steve's direction.
"You know the last words she heard before she wrecked that car were mine?"
He glances over at Steve, who is listening intently, eyes filled with concern.
"We had a fight on the phone that morning, 'cause she wanted to trade days with me this week. Something about a play she wanted to take Grace to."
He shakes his head in disgust. "Fighting over our daughter – we created this beautiful creature together, and in the end all we did was act like a couple of pit bulls brawling over a piece of meat," he gestures forcefully as he speaks, his voice rising, cracking with self-loathing.
"Danny…."
"Don't. Don't act like you understand, because you don't."
"Yes I do, Danny," Steve retorts, turning to fully face his friend. "I understand that you're blaming yourself for something you feel was in your control. But it wasn't, Danny. You didn't wreck that car."
"No, I didn't have my hands on the wheel – I was just an ass on the phone to my ex-wife, who was behind the wheel, and got her so upset that she wrecked her car," Danny replies, tone laced with sarcasm.
"You're right, there's a big difference there."
"You can't – you can't do this, Danny," the taller man pleads. "It's gonna eat you up."
Danny scrubs at his glazed-over eyes. "Grace is gonna grow up without a mother…."
Steve grabs his shoulders gently, turning the shorter man until he is forced to look the SEAL in the eyes.
"Grace is going to grow up with her father. A father who loves her, and who's going to make sure Grace knows just how much her mother loved her."
"I don't know if I can do this, Steven," Danny says, blinking furiously to hold back burning tears. "I don't know if I can do this alone. I can still feel her," he places a hand on his chest.
Steve can only imagine what Danny is feeling. There is no doubt that he loved Rachel as deeply as any man could love a woman.
It's part of the reason why the divorce hit him so hard – he'd never gotten over her. Her death is going to be an open, festering wound for a long time.
"You're not going to be alone. You've got me and Chin and Kono, and even big Kamekona. We're your and Grace's Ohana. Family."
Danny sighs and shakes his head, his eyes misty and distant. "I'm gonna have to quit the 5-0 if I want to get full custody of Grace. Everything's gonna change."
"What are you talking about?"
"You don't know Rachel's family. They're gonna blame me for this. They're gonna try to take Grace away from me…."
"Hey – that's not gonna happen," Steve says forcefully.
"Either way, I can't work Five-0 anymore, Steven. I can't take the chance that my daughter's going to grow up an orphan. I won't."
Steve has to look away briefly so Danny doesn't see the hurt in his eyes at the thought of him quitting the taskforce.
He rallies just as quickly. "You do whatever you need to do, okay? You've got my support one-hundred percent," he says, squeezing the shorter man's shoulder.
"Thanks, man. I appreciate it," Danny smiles tremulously, but his eyes are dull and pained.
Literally overnight, Danny's whole life has changed. He's suddenly a single father, having to contemplate a whole new future for himself and his young daughter.
Steve can't help but wish there was more he could do to help ease his partner's burden. He's going to need real support over the next few weeks as he pulls his life back together, not just a few beers and a shoulder to cry on.
Then a memory pricks the back of Steve's mind, and he frowns, remembering the Governor's words from earlier: "when the time is right, make sure you and your team take a few weeks off."
Steve can't think of a more appropriate time.
"When I spoke to the Governor earlier she mentioned that we were all due for some time off," he began, a plan already formulating in his brain.
His brow furrows in confusion when Danny shakes his head, cutting him off.
"No. Steve – look. I appreciate everything you're doing for me, I really do, but you guys don't need to babysit me. I can't ask you to do that."
"That's the thing, Danny – you don't have to ask. And it wouldn't be babysitting. When are you going to understand that you don't have to do this on your own? You've got people who care about you. Let us be there for you, man. You know if the situation were reversed, you'd do the same thing."
Danny can only nod, overwhelmed. He turns to face the horizon, trying to hide the tears rolling down his cheeks. He doesn't know if Steve notices or cares – but the taller man's hand never leaves Danny's shoulder. For that, he is grateful.
Whatever happens in the coming weeks, it might not be so bad with his Ohana around. Maybe he can get through it.
As Danny stands there letting the Hawaiian breeze dry the tracks of tears on his rough cheeks, a memory comes to mind.
It's Rachel, the way he always pictured her, eyes warm and bright, her brunette locks flowing around her face and neck - and in this memory, she is smiling...
TBC…
A/N: Reviews are love!