A/N: I started this a while back, when s4e15 just aired, but I didn't finish until now. My muse needed a time out I guess. I really hope she's back on track now.
This fic is very different from my other ones. I hope I didn't get it all wrong.
PS: Kamali'i means children.
WARNING: There are some pretty graphic descriptions of some harrowing scenes in this fic. The bodies of dead children among other things. But I imagine that Steve has seen some harrowing things during his time as an active SEAL.
"I hope you never see anything like it", he had said. Oh yes, Steve wished that he had never seen anything like that. But fact is, he had. He had seen something much worse. "Get the things of his chest", Grover had said. Steve wished that he could do that. He wished that he could tell Danny, or frankly anyone, but he couldn't. He couldn't because of course, it was classified. And it was ripping him apart.
Every time he had closed his eyes for a week now, he had seen either the little girl with her bucket of flowers or the little boy again. He knew why this was of course. The anniversary was today. It always got worse this time of the year. It always got worse, and he was never ready.
He closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the headrest of the chair on his lanai and hoped that the gruesome pictures would go away for a while if he just let the scenes play out in his head, just this once. It was something he had never done before. He had always opened his eyes, woken himself up before he had to relive it again.
"Do you want us to walk the rest of the way, commander, or should we fix the tire?" Andersson said.
"Fix it. We're gonna have to move the damn thing anyway." Steve grew more and more frustrated by the minute. They were pretty sure to have found the camp of the insurgents that were terrorising this part of the country. His mission was to stop them. How, his superiors didn't care.
"Come on, guys, let's move!" Andersson barked and the other three SEALs on his team, Hutcherson, Mitch or 'Hutch', Jones and Moore, or 'TNT', were grabbing the gear to start changing the tyre. This delay was not welcome at all, the more time they were losing, the more children were dying.
This particular group of insurgents was targeting kids. They were killing them off to terrorise the people, and it was working. The electoral participation was going down and there was nothing they could do besides find the people behind it, and stop them.
The minutes went by and his team was still not done when Steve had called it in and received new orders.
"Okay, let's move. Our orders are to move on on foot and get these guys!" He shouted and his team began moving at once.
An hour or so later, they arrived at the top of a hill just in front of a small village. There were only about 30 houses in this village. But Steve knew that a lot of people fit in 30 houses. A lot of children.
He furrowed his eyebrows and looked through his binoculars. There was nothing that he could see. No movement at all. This was troublesome since there almost always was some movement. Someone was always outdoors, feeding the animals, watering plants, talking to neighbours. But this time, nothing. There weren't even animals outside. Steve knew this was not a good sign.
"Are you seeing what I'm seeing, Andersson?" Steve asked his second in command.
"If you're seeing nothing then yes, I am." He said, his voice sounding as concerned and guarded as Steve felt.
"Not a good sign." Steve mumbled and put the binoculars down. He then rose and looked at his men.
"Proceed with extreme caution. I think they've been here. There is no sign of any life at all. We all know what this means." He said before starting to walk towards the village again.
The smell was overwhelming them at once when they crossed into the village. The smell of death. Steve could hear his men swearing and shouting once they saw the bodies, but he couldn't say anything. He felt paralysed.
The first body he saw was a little kid. And there was no blanket covering this kid. There was nothing covering her. Steve could see the whole, ugly truth.
The little girl had been picking flowers, making a bucket. For her mother, or her grandmother maybe. There was nothing where her stomach had once been. Just a big, gaping hole. She looked scared, her eye wide open and her face scrunched into a grimace. All Steve wanted to do was to pick her up and tell her that everything would be okay. That she would be okay. But he couldn't do that.
He shook of his trance, knowing that his men needed him. They needed a strong leader, not this.
Steve took his eyes of the little girl and went further into the village. There were dead people laying everywhere. Some of the women's skirts were pushed up. Steve could only imagine what had happened to them.
"They've escalated. It wasn't this bad before. Not a whole village." Andersson said. Steve silently agreed.
"Hutch, Jones, you check the south side. TNT you check the north side with me. Go through every building and if you find someone, report. If it is a civilian, take them out of here. Gather them on the hill. If it is a hostile, take them out." Steve ordered. He quickly moved to the next house, checking inside. It was empty. Thank God.
One of the houses was a school. It seemed like the terrorists took some extra time in there. They had used a knife. The children were slashed open, some of them disembowelled.
"I'll take the school, just move on and clear the rest of the houses." Steve said quietly to TNT. The other man looked gratefully at him. Steve pretended that he didn't notice the tears that were making their way down Moore's cheeks.
"Thank you, Commander." Moore said and moved outside. Steve continued moving through the school. He looked in every corner, saw every kid but couldn't find a single hostile.
When he looked inside a small cupboard, he saw some movement. He held his weapon a little tighter and looked a little closer. A little boy was still alive. He looked at Steve with big, sad eyes.
"Shh. It's okay." Steve said in Arabic. The boy just continued to look at Steve with those big eyes. He was pressing his hands to his abdomen and Steve removed them to take a closer look at his injury.
Blood was flowing out of the wound in the little boy's stomach. Steve knew that there was no way that the boy could survived that. Nobody could. He picked the boy up and held him tightly against his chest. The boy relaxed and closed his eyes. Steve murmured some words, meaningless, comforting words and felt the child relax further in his arms.
They sat like that for several minutes, the boy limply in Steve's arms, before he stopped breathing. Steve felt a door closer in his heart, he couldn't feel any emotions. He layed the boy down on the floor and continued moving through the school. There were no more survivors.
"Does anybody have anyone?" Steve asked his team when they met up again. He still couldn't feel anything and he was sure that all his face showed was a hard mask of coldness. The looks that Andersson gave him confirmed that thought.
"No sir." They all answered.
"I had one. He didn't make it." Steve whispered. He felt the door open a tiny bit but quickly slammed it shut again. He had to be strong. For his men. Andersson gave him another worried look.
"I'm sorry." He said quietly. Steve nodded.
"Me too." He answered before straightening his back and shoulders and looking at his men again.
"Let's go get these bastards." He said. His team agreed.
Steve opened his eyes again. He felt a wetness on his face and didn't know where it came from at first. Then he realised that he was crying.
It had gone weeks before he had been able to open the door to his emotions again. He had had a lot of conversations with different psychiatrists, psychologists, therapists and other people his doctor thought would help. But he never stopped dreaming about the little girl with the flowers or the little boy that was still alive.
He had never cried over them either. He hadn't been able to. Until now. It was just a tear or two, Steve would never allow himself more, but it felt good. He felt better. For the first time since it had happened, he actually felt better. He was still numb, didn't feel much of anything, but there was a little hope. It was the numbness that was the worst. The not feeling anything. That was what was ripping him apart.
They had found the terrorists a few days later. He and his team had killed every single one of them. But he didn't feel better after that. It didn't make the children come alive again. It didn't make anything go away.
He rose when he heard the bell ring. Numbly, he opened the door and let Danny inside.
"Steve? Are you okay?" Danny asked concernedly. Steve didn't answer, he just moved out again. He felt Danny follow him outside, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
"Steve?" Danny asked again, his uncertainty leaking into his voice. Steve just sat down in the chair again. Danny sat in the chair opposite him. He looked unsure of how to proceed. Steve understood.
"Hey, babe, what happened?" Danny asked and touched Steve's knee.
Suddenly, Steve couldn't hold it back. The words were flowing out of him, totally out of his range of control. He was looking at the ocean while he told Danny about everything. Danny just sat there, quietly listening to Steve's every word. His hand was still on Steve's knee, grounding him.
When he was finished, Steve looked at Danny's face. It was wet with tears but Danny was still looking straight at him.
"It's not your fault, babe. No one could have saved them." He said, still looking Steve in the eye. Something burst inside Steve.
"Yes it is, Danny! If I would have gotten there a little faster, if I hadn't decided to try and fix that damn tyre, we would have been there in time! I could have saved that little girl, the little boy and all the other children. If I just would have been a little faster, I could have saved them all." Steve said. He had never realised that he blamed himself, but Danny saw right through him.
"Steve. You and I both know that you wouldn't have made it anyway. There was no way you could have saved those people. I'm sorry babe, but that's the truth. And you know it." Danny said determinedly. Steve looked at Danny, trying to see what he saw. He didn't understand how Danny couldn't hate him. Danny had a daughter. He would never have let anything happen to those children. He would never let anything happen to any children.
"Why don't you hate me?" Steve asked sincerely. Danny just looked at him as if he was waiting for Steve to tell him it was a joke or something.
"Why would I, Steve?" He asked when he realised that Steve wasn't kidding.
"I failed, Danny. I failed to save those children." Steve said. He knew he sounded like he was broken. And maybe he was.
"Yes you did, Steven. But it isn't you fault. We both know you are the best at what you did. If you couldn't make it, nobody could. It isn't your fault. It is the terrorist's fault. They killed and mutilated those people. Not you." Danny responded convincingly.
"Thank you." Steve simply said.
Steve felt a little better. It felt good to have said it out loud. Especially to Danny. It felt good to know that Danny didn't blame him. He was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to forgive himself one day.