A/N.: The whole 'getting-out-of-a-plane-crash-with-only-a-few-scratches' didn't do it for me. So here I was, planning to run Steve through the whump-wringer but instead of an actual h/c it turned into something more emotional and I never quite wrote that kind of genre before? I was planning on deleting it later, but judging by the fact that I post fics once in every three years, I decided to just go ahead and post it. I'll deal with the possible repercussions later…
Wo Fat was locked up in prison. Adam Noshimuri was held for interrogation. Chin was having a heart-to-heart with Kono and Danny was most likely finishing things up at the office. Steve was back home. Still unsure how he'd gotten there from the correctional facility.
Steve watched the waves lapping on the beach from where he was sat on the wooden steps. Initially he had wanted to go down to the beach but the moment he'd set one foot on the wooden steps he'd felt himself waver.
If anyone had seen him, sitting on the wooden steps, laughing almost maniacally to himself, they would have called the cops. The sudden burst of laughter had ended as quick as it had come and what had followed was nothingness. He did feel. Hells, he did. In fact his entire body was screaming at him, craving attention, wanting for him to take care of the numerous wounds that could be seen, and the ones that couldn't. He chose to ignore the signs that he had been in an actual plane crash not even a day ago.
He had shrugged off his team's concern for him, placating them with a wide smile, happy he was back home. It didn't take away that he had seen the worried glances cast his way when they thought he wasn't looking. Danny had offered to drive Steve to the correctional facility but Steve had refused.
"This is something I have to do alone, Danny," he had said, a sad smile lingering on his tired, grime-streaked face.
Danny had wanted to disagree but a hand on his shoulder had made him shut his mouth and nod tersely. Steve knew Danny would come and get information soon enough.
That's why he wasn't surprised when he heard his partner call out his name inside the house.
"I'm here," Steve called out and focussed back on the waves that kept rolling on and off the sand. He heard footsteps, recognised it as Danny's thread, and leant more heavily against the banister.
The Jersey-native detective didn't speak as he saw Steve sitting on the wooden stairs, instead he proceeded to sit next his partner.
They didn't speak. They just sat, shoulder to shoulder, watching the ocean and the clear moon in the inky sky. Danny broke the silence first, "I never saw a black helicopter until today."
Steve chuckled softly, "I should get you a tinfoil hat."
"Yeah," Danny sighed, "after today I think I need more than a tinfoil hat. I think this past week has aged me twice as fast as the usual norm."
Steve glanced sideways, finally meeting Danny's tired eyes.
"I am sorry about that," he whispered and looked back at the sea, his pounding head resting against the banister.
"Yeah, I guess it comes with the job," Danny answered, "and having you as a partner."
The comment was a jest, Steve knew that, but his messed up brain actually took it as an accusation. Deep down he surmised that Danny's life would've been better off without his guns-blazing-no-questions-asked-attitude. The detective already had a child and an ex-wife to worry about. Adding a daredevil to that definitely didn't make it any easier for the man. Steve didn't dare to think about the other people he involved in his messed up life.
"Sorry."
"Don't sweat it. Where'd you get the chopper anyways? You told me you were in a plane," Danny looked at Steve's profile in the moonlight. The ex-SEAL looked as exhausted as he felt, albeit a bit more banged up. The scrapes and cuts had not gone unnoticed by the Jersey detective and the rest of the Five-o team. Steve was hurt and he couldn't fool them, no matter how hard he tried to downplay it.
"Yeah, plane crashed about fifty miles from here. Yakuza were so kind to let me borrow their helicopter," Steve scratched his chin, the dried blood and grime making his skin itch. He really needed to grab a shower and just go to bed.
Danny nearly pulled his back as he twisted to face Steve, "Wait a min-...You were in a plane crash?"he asked with a higher pitch than normal. Something he usually did when someone had told him something outrageous or when Steve had proposed a new way to interrogate perps.
Steve looked up at him, "I-...yeah," he shrugged. He tried to provide Danny with all the answers needed but he was so exhausted, so done for, he just wanted to stay in this spot until the end of times.
Danny opened his mouth in order to present Steve with a whole litany about stunts and insanity but stopped mid-track when he saw Steve tremble. His eyes softened and instead of giving Steve an earful, he sighed. In the end, behind his tough exterior, Steve was still just a kid. A small child that had to grow up without the support and love of its parents too fast. Steve's childhood had been one of mysteries, lies and orders. Something Danny had vowed Grace would never have to go through, not if he could help it.
The detective surmised that John McGarrett had probably sent his children away out of fear for their safety. But the way he had done it still gave Danny a sour taste in his mouth. Sure, Danny wasn't good in jumping off moving vehicles, or hand-to-hand combat, or even surfing for that matter. But he was good in other things, things Steve needed. Didn't mean he wanted them, per se, but despite his own tiredness, Danny promised himself he would take care of Steve. And cleaning up the mess on the outside was a good way to start. Steven McGarret would never be completely fixed. He'd been broken too many times to be completely fixed. But Danny hoped he could at least glue some of the pieces back together. Make Steve feel loved, feel cared for.
Danny placed a hand on Steve's shoulder, "Let's get inside. Let me take a look at you, okay?" When Steve was about to interrupt him, Danny softly squeezed Steve's shoulder, "Please?"
Part of Steve's tough exterior seemed to crumble right there and the commander nodded, allowing Danny to help him up. Together they walked inside the house.
"Listen, how about you get cleaned up? Let me take a look at those scrapes when you're clean, yeah?" Danny suggested, slightly relieved Steve acquiesced and entered the bathroom.
The detective went into the kitchen area and grabbed the large first-aid kit out of the cabinet above the microwave. Others would say the content of the first-aid kit was overkill, but Danny knew better. He was about to return to the living room when he saw the overripe apples on the counter. He wondered when was the last time Steve actually ate.
Sure, in the navy there was probably some training where they would test you how long you could go without food and still being able to function. Danny knew he would fail that test after half a day. Humans weren't made to not eat. It was primary instinct to eat, okay? Whilst he waited for Steve to finish washing up, he grabbed some items and made Steve a sandwich. The man probably didn't feel like eating anyway, but the fact it was there hopefully made Steve see that there were people looking after him.
He was just finishing setting up the living room when Steve exited the bathroom. The man looked slightly better now all the grime and caked blood was gone. Clad in a tank-top and shorts, Steve padded over to the couch and carefully sat down. His body seemed to melt into the leather and his eyes drooped shut.
"Stay awake for a bit, yeah? Let me patch you up first. Maybe eat something? When was the last time you ate, Steven?" Danny asked as he got Steve's attention.
Steve half-heartedly shrugged, "Can't really remember," he muttered. He looked at the plate with the sandwich and swallowed thickly. He probably ought to eat something but he felt too awful, too tired, to eat. He was glad Danny didn't press the matter any further and nodded. The detective most likely had caught on to the fact Steve wasn't feeling hungry.
"Okay, lemme take a look," Danny spoke and carefully prodded at the scratches on Steve's face. Steve didn't flinch, he just let Danny's careful fingers roam over his face.
"Well, looks like none of these cuts need any stitches but I am going to disinfect them. This might sting," Danny added as an after-thought as he put the piece of gauze with disinfectant on the cuts on Steve's face.
When that was done, Danny looked at Steve, "I don't usually ask this, but you think you could take off your shirt for me?"
Steve awarded him with a small grin, "Not even buyng me a drink first, huh?"
"I made you a sandwich," Danny chuckled. The mirth quickly faded as he saw the bruises on Steve's torso. He assumed most of these were from being banged into the control panel of the plane. But he also had a niggling feeling that not all of these bruises were from the crash. Steve's knuckles were looking red and chafed. He had thrown some punches as well. Danny just hoped that the person on the receiving end had gotten more punches than they had given Steve. He even secretly hoped Wo Fat was the person who was hurting the most right now. But he knew that wasn't the case. No matter how many punches Wo Fat got, it would never be enough to reduce the pain Steve felt.
Danny rubbed a hand over his face as he looked at Steve's body which looked like a bad action-painting.
"Not liking what you see?" Steve tried to joke but barely stifled a groan as Danny prodded at his bruised ribs. The detective didn't answer.
"Danno?"
"I just wish I was there to help you, man," Danny softly spoke and sat back, not meeting Steve's eyes. Steve had the decency to look confused at first but realisation dawned on him, "Danny, listen," he placed a bruised hand on Danny's knee, urging him to look him in the eye.
"If you'd gone with me, things would've gone a whole lot different at the airport, okay? Either Wo Fat or I could have been shot. Maybe even both. You saved my life," Steve dropped his hands between his knees and bent his head, "in more than one way."
Danny barely picked up the last sentence but he had heard it all right.
"You are my partner, babe. Yeah, we argue a lot and I am not always okay with your interrogation-techniques but we get the work done. We have lost people along the way, but we've saved even more. And if me putting up with your Rambo-SEAL-ninja-antics is all it takes, I would gladly accept that. I am glad you are my partner. But you are also my friend."
Steve didn't look up but Danny hadn't missed the shudder going through Steve's body.
"I know you mean to look out for all of us. I know that every time one of us gets beaten up, or attacked, or god-knows-what, you take it personally. You blame yourself over and over. But imagine how we feel when you get beaten up or shot at? How do you think we feel when you land yourself in another situation where the odds are all against you?" Danny spoke, "But we carry through it, because we are a team. And we look out for each other. Just allow us to look after you too."
Steve's hands were clenched in a fist and he still refused to look at Danny. But Danny knew he had hit a chord.
"We care about you. I care about you. Please, don't shut yourself off when it is clear you are hurting," he smiled sadly, "And I am not talking about the wounds. You don't even need to tell me about your mission. Just allow me to look after you too. That's all I'm asking."
The commander finally looked up and his blue eyes were blood-shot. They were also glistening in the dim light. He wrapped his arms around his body, holding himself tight as he finally looked at Danny.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Danny sighed and sat down next to Steve on the couch, placing a warm hand on the man's knee, just as Steve had done before.
"I'm sorry too, for the fact that you carried this weight on your own all these years. We are here for you. Never though I'd admit to it, but a world without you would be a boring place," the detective smiled.
Steve looked up and two tears managed to sneak past his defences. Danny gently grabbed Steve's neck and placed his forehead against Steve's.
"You are loved, Steve," he spoke.
And if more tears spilled from Steve's eyes, Danny didn't comment on it. Instead he held the man, like a father would a child, and found some comfort in it as well. Because in spite of everything they had gone through in life, they finally found someone they could lean on. Someone they could confide in. Someone they could call: friend.
Einde