AN: This is my first fic, so please go easy. Read and review, because reviews will make me happy :)
After a bad day at work, I just really needed to beat on someone...sorry Danny!
I don't own anything other than the plot.
*H50*
Chapter 1
Danny
Danny shouldn't have gone, that much he was sure of. He didn't want to be sat on Steve's lanai, drinking warm beer and making small talk. He ran his hand over his face, the bruises barely tender any more, and then up through his hair, fingers tracing over the new scar hidden under blonde locks.
"I feel like I'm losing control." He muttered to himself, but Steve had heard him.
"The boredom is probably just sending you stir crazy." Steve suggested, handing him his second bottle. "You should come back to work. It's already been two weeks, and I'm sure I can find a desk job or some paperwork for you to do."
"I don't think the answer to my problems is paperwork, Steven." Danny sighed, shaking his head. Just for once, he wished that Steve would take his feelings seriously.
"You know what your problem is, Danno? You're too sensitive." Steve chuckled as he sat back into the deck chair, but Danny didn't join in. Maybe Steve was right, maybe Danny was too soft. It wasn't the first time his partner had made a comment about it, and he suspected it wasn't the last.
'I think I might know why your wife left you...you're very sensitive.' Steve's former words echoed through Danny's head as he took a long drag from the beer bottle.
"Yeah, maybe." He finally sighed, as he looked down at the bottle in his hand and wished it was something stronger.
Steve looked over at his friend and softened when he saw the deeply depressed expression haunting his face.
"Hey, c'mon buddy, cheer up."
"I think I'm going to head home." Danny concluded, as he stood up and placed the beer bottle on the metal table next to the empty one.
"Danny..." Steve started, getting up from his chair, but was waved off by his partner.
"I'll see you later." As he stepped down from the decked area, and headed for his car.
"You'll be at work tomorrow?" Steve called after him, and Danny knew he was lying when he shouted back.
"Yeah." He pulled open the driver side door of his beloved Camaro, slid in behind the wheel. "Need to get away." He mumbled, as he turned the ignition on, put the car into drive, and pulled away from McGarrett's house.
He felt like he was drowning on the inside. Something felt heavy in his chest, and he was tired of trying to fight the constant battle to keep in control and not give in to the dark cloud looming around him. He tried to focus on the positives in his life, and felt worse when he could only pull one thing from his brain; Grace. And even she had been too busy to spend some time with him lately. This weekend, for example, Danny had planned swimming with dolphins, shopping at the mall, face masks, cheesy chick flicks that he hated but would watch with her anyway. But when he'd called her to check the time he was to pick her up, she'd popped his merry balloon of excitement.
"I'm really sorry, Danno. Chelsea is having a sleep over, and I said I would go." Grace had apologised on the phone, and it didn't matter that she sounded genuinely apologetic, Danny felt replaced by a silly school girl.
"No worries, Monkey. Have a good time, okay?" He'd faked a cheery tone, didn't want her to hear how let down he felt.
"I will." She'd sounded full of promise, and then Danny had heard someone calling her in the background. "Chelsea is waiting, I have to go now."
"Okay, Gracie. Danno loves..." And then she'd hung up before he could say "you."
He spotted a neon 'OPEN' sign in a small off license as he drove along the quiet residential roads of Hawaii, opting to avoid the busy freeway.
Perfect.
The store was dingy, the alcohol old stock and over priced. Danny pulled out $76 dollars and slapped it down on the counter in front of the old man – probably the store owner – and pointed to the liquor on the top shelf.
"However many that buys." He ordered. The old man, of Hawaiian descent, looked Danny up and down, studied his appearance; his eyes were rimmed with red, he had a good start on a beard and his hair dishevelled.
"Maybe just the one, hey?" He tried, pulling one bottle of dusty Jack from the top shelf and putting it in front of Danny. But Danny didn't have time to be judged by this old fool, so pulled his badge from his belt and shoved it in his leathery face.
"I'm going to need all three." But the old man looked at the badge and back at Danny, unwavering. "Look, give me the damned bottles, or I'll call my buddies at ATF and get your ass hauled to jail for selling those dodgy smokes." He nodded towards the packets of cigarettes on sale for cheap behind the counter.
"Hey man, I don't want no trouble." The clerk said, holding his hands up in surrender before turning and grabbing the other two bottles of whiskey. He put them in a brown paper bag, then added a half size from another shelf. "On the house, that one." He'd insisted, taking the $76 as full payment for the other three.
Danny didn't say thank you as he left the store, a little eager to get home and start drowning the pain before it drowned him.
He wasn't far from his home when he'd started to feel bad about lying to Steve. He'd known that Steve would suggest work as a fix; that was the answer to all of Steve's problems, after all. This was the same man that had managed to turn his own personal vendetta into a job, had forced Danny into being his partner to help him get revenge.
Hired gun. The voice in Danny's head snorted, and he sighed. Of course that was all he was to Steve; a convenience. Danny could bet there was a stack of paperwork on Steve's desk, untouched, awaiting his return. He pushed back any guilty feelings and allowed the anger to boil away at his supposed 'friend.'
He pulled onto his driveway, grabbed the paper bag off of the passenger seat, and headed for his dark apartment. He didn't bother to turn the lights on when he'd closed the door behind him; he didn't want to see the emptiness before him, or the spa kit he'd bought Grace as a surprise, sat on the table with a big pink bow he'd stuck on it. He didn't need to see just how alone he really was.
He collapsed onto the sofa, kicked off his trusty loafers and socks, and put his feet up on the black glass table. Something he wouldn't let Grace do, but that doesn't matter, because, as he didn't want to remind himself, Grace wasn't here to see him do it. He pulled out one of the whiskey bottles, blew the dust off the top and unscrewed the stiff cap. The first gulp was the best. It burned as it slid down his throat easily, the physical burn a welcome distraction from the emotional one, and he craved more.
His ribs ached and his head had started to pound, so he reached in his pants pocket and took out the pot of painkillers the Dr had prescribed. He tipped two into his hand, decided he wanted to feel numb and tipped another two out, before popping them into his mouth and swallowing them with some more fiery liquid. He sat in silence, listening to the clock tick away seconds of his life. Tick tock. He can't help but wonder what Grace was doing with Chelsea that beat watching The Notebook whilst wearing silly face masks and painting her Danno's toenails. He looked down at his feet, crossed at the ankles, resting on the table top, and smiled at the left over, chipped, red nail paint he could just about see in the darkness. And then he wondered if she was painting Chelsea's nails, and he took another gulp of Jack. Tick tock.
Everyone leaves. The voice taunted in Danny's head, as he ran his hand over his face again. Rachel, Gaby, Grace...Another two mouthfuls of the whiskey, and he'd started to feel the warm buzz. He tried to remember the last time he'd actually ate, but couldn't, shrugged, had another mouthful.
He cursed himself for being so dispensable. Tick tock.
He'd been too soft, too willing, to move onto this god-forsaken island, just to be close to Grace, and to be honest, Rachel. Because he'd never gotten over her, and probably never would. They'd tried again, but then she'd left him, again, leaving his heart shattered for a second time.
Mug. The voice wont leave him alone, but Danny agreed. He'd been used for far too long, had had enough. Tick tock.
He pulled out his ringing cell phone from the breast pocket of his shirt. It was 11:56pm, and McGarrett was calling him, probably to double check that his pencil pusher would definitely be in tomorrow. Danny pressed the hang up button, then smiled sadly at the wallpaper Grace had insisted he had; a picture of him and Grace being goofs. A message popped up a second later from Steve and Danny opened it.
Just making sure you're okay.
Chin up, Danno.
See you tomorrow.
Steve.
Angered, Danny threw the phone across the room, watched it hit the far wall and break apart. He shrugged, drank more from the bottle.
Who needs a cell, anyway?
He sat there for another hour or so, drinking more whiskey, getting more drunk, replaying the best and worst moments of his life in his head;
marrying Rachel; watching Rachel walk out of the door. Grace being born; Grace leaving. Meeting Mcgarrett; meeting Mcgarrett.
Need to escape. Danny decided, knowing that as soon as he doesn't show up tomorrow, Steve is going to head straight for his apartment.
Better off without you. He nodded in agreement with the voice, hauled himself up from the sofa, stumbled a little. He knocked his knee on the sharp edge of the small table, ripped the skin, but he didn't feel it, didn't realise until he felt the warm trickle of blood.
"Damn it." He muttered, before drinking another gulp from the now almost empty bottle. He snatched the bag with the other three bottles in, finished the bottle in his hand, and discarded it by tossing it onto the sofa. He shrugged when it bounced off and landed on the tiled flooring, smashing into three pieces. He moved into his bedroom, yanked open the top drawer of his clothes chest and pulled out his P90. Just in case, he thought as he holstered it as his hip. He then headed for the beast parked outside, forgetting his shoes, and didn't bother with locking the front door – because Steve would only bust it open anyway – but stopped before getting behind the wheel. Of course the Camaro would be the first thing Steve put a BOLO out on. There weren't very many of them casually driving around Hawaii, so he'd be easy to find, regardless of where he headed for. He looked at his watch. It was approaching 1am; Steve could be at the office in as little as 4 hours if he had one of his sleepless nights, and Danny knew that he'd have all airports, train stations and harbours watched as soon as he realised Danny had made a break for it. He may as well carry a GPS tracking chip if he was going to drive the Camaro. Feeling the wallet in his pocket, checking the Camaro was locked and alarmed, he headed for the 24hour vehicle rental place two blocks over.
