Summary: Steve and Danny's friendship is as thick as the blood they spill. When the life-changing drug bust they made almost a year earlier comes back to haunt them, Steve and Danny are forced to risk their lives for the sake of each other. And oh yeah, did I mention Steve was dying from radiation poisoning? Ties to 6.25, but after season 7. Angst/whump.
Author's Note: After being obsessed with the show for a while, I'm dipping my toes into H50 waters! It's been almost a year since I wrote fanfiction (and I need to get back into the groove of writing at my full potential, heh), and hopefully, I'll commit to this. I have a long storyline built but my summer is hectic, so bare with me. Thank you for reading! I do not have a beta so excuse any mistakes unless it's an obvious issue, then leave me a head's up. Speaking of leaving presents… give me comment cookies. I'll be your best friend. I'll remind you later. Don't worry.
Story Notes: Welcome to my angst party! Yay! Some bad things are going on in my life right now so I'm going to torture fictional characters. The first bit of the plot is introduced in this but the plot will develop itself, though I have an idea of where this story is going… down the road of angst and whump (my favorite whoops). Buckle in! :) Rated T for language my momma wouldn't like, and if I get too carried away with graphic torture.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hawaii 5-0; yet I can dream, can't I?
Ha'i'ana wahi (Breaking Point)
Prologue
Recap from Season 7: Episode 25...
"What's the matter? You alright?" Danny asked, his chef hat resting on the side of his iconic blonde hair.
Steve sighed deeply, trying to change the subject. "Nice hat," he pointed.
"Thanks," Danny said dismissively, worried eyes staring up at his partner.
Steve's voice was raspy, and there was little to no color in his face. He leaned against the doorframe, trying to catch his breath. Danny's concern jacked up by a thousand. Steve could swim like fifteen miles in the ocean and still only be slightly panting. Something was wrong.
"I get these spells," Steve said, voice almost failing him. "Look, I lied to you about going to the doctor. Okay? I didn't go to the doctor about my liver. I just haven't been feeling so great, so…" Steve looked away, unable to meet Danny's eyes. "He ran some tests last week."
"And?" Danny asked, when Steve paused.
"And I got a little radiation poisoning from that dirty bomb we diffused a couple months back," Steve explained, trying to give his voice a lighter tone as if they were discussing an NFL game. "It's fine. The pills you saw me taking… it's a short term thing. They'll knock it out."
The lines on Danny's face deepened, anxiety piling into his chest. "Short term? S-so, like long term? Is there any…" Danny's voice broke down into incomprehensible muttering as he watched Steve wipe the beads of sweat off his pale face.
"C'mon Danny," Steve tried to pull himself together. "You ask ten of these guys, you're gonna get ten different opinions, right?"
"Well, what did, what did this guy, d-did he say anything? Anything about long term?" Danny's voice had turned to low murmur, panic and worry climbing up his throat.
Steve let out another sigh. "H-He, he said he's almost 100% sure there's gonna be some side effects down the road, ya know, but Danny we're talking years down the road. Not today. I'm fine right now, this is nothin'." Without giving Danny a chance to interrupt, because Steve couldn't bear to answer any more questions or to see his partner's face twisted in worry, he continued, "Will you make me a drink please? C'mon we got a lot to celebrate." Steve rested Danny's chin in his palm for a moment of reassurance. "I love ya. Make me a drink or somethin'."
With that, Steve turned his back on his partner and walked into the kitchen because another moment looking at Danny's agonized was going to make him break down.
Danny stood there speechless.
And there were not many times in his life Danny Williams was speechless.
Chapter 1
20 Hours Later...
"Are you freaking kidding me? What the hell is the matter with you?"
Detective Danny Williams's voice cut through Lt. Commander Steve McGarrett's concentration as he went for his twenty-first pull up. Steve's body fell downward, muscular arms still clinging to the rafter in his garage. Letting his iron grip relax, he dropped down to the ground gracefully.
"Good afternoon to you too Danny," Steve smirked, wiping the sweat from his face with a dirty rag filled with oil from the Marquis.
"Really? Really? Doing pull ups on the rafters? What are you trying to do, tear your house down? They have pull-up bars, you Neanderthal animal." Danny couldn't gesticulate like he usually did while trying to make a point because his hands were occupied with two Guinness and a pepperoni pizza.
Steve slapped the rag over his shoulder and retrieved the box from Danny, opening it to discover a wonderful smelling, meat-filled pizza. No pineapples.
"Not Hawaiian? You know that's my favorite," Steve smirked, egging Danny into one of his animated Jersey speeches.
"The day I order a Hawaiian pizza, Steven, is the day I will be wearing a dumbass hibiscus shirt, no tie, with some pineapple shoved in my mouth. You might as well bury a surfboard next to me cause I'll be six feet underground."
Steve rolled his eyes, returning inside. The house displayed remnants of Jerry's congratulation party, with red solo cups littered on the counter tops and scattered around the couches. Surprised, Danny paused before chilling the beers in the fridge. Steve was very OCD, and along with his "control issues", always kept a very tidy house. The fact that he failed to clean up the mess from yesterday was very… un-Steve-ish.
"You need help cleanin', babe?" Danny asked. "I thought the Navy taught you to clean up a mess as soon as it's made."
"Oh yeah, I, um, I had some paperwork last night. Didn't get around to it," Steve answered. His face was away from Danny while he collected plates for the pizza, but Danny could detect the lie in his voice. If there was one gift Danny possessed besides fantastic detective skills and quick wit, it was being able to read his animal of a partner. Thankfully, Steve was not well versed in the emotion department and couldn't return the favor to Danny.
Instead of calling Steve out on his obvious, pathetic lie, Danny just shrugged. "I guess I can help before we turn the game on."
"Why don't you shove some pizza in your mouth first. Then you'll be quiet and helping and I won't believe my eyes," Steve smirked. "I mean, can Danny Williams even do those two things at the same time?"
Muttering some witty comeback under his breath Steve couldn't catch, he snatched a slice of pizza and folded it in two, New York style. The pizza dangling from his mouth, Danny leaned over to gather cups and ignored the subtle pain from his abdomen where they had cut out his liver almost a year ago to save the Navy SEAL idiot in the kitchen. His liver was almost 100% repaired, but there were still certain movements that jostled his healing body. Said Navy SEAL idiot seemed to either have no pain remaining or maybe no nerves to feel pain, Danny thought, because he was jumping across rooftops the day after he left the hospital.
"Where's the recycle?" Danny asked through a full bite of pizza. Steve pointed to the living room. He'd decided on making a salad to accompany the pizza, engrossed with chopping vegetables. Along with usually keeping a clean house, Steve was also an impressive chef. If Danny didn't know him better, he'd say Steve would make a good housewife. Except for Steve the housewife was also Steve the danger magnet, and Danny felt those two things wouldn't mix well.
Throwing the cups away, Danny was about to return to the kitchen when something on John McGarrett's old desk caught his eye. The desk was now Steve's, of course, but he didn't use it very often when he had his own office at the Iolani Palace. Another fact setting off Danny's alarm system was those weren't there last night…
With a brief glance to the kitchen to make sure Steve was still dismembering vegetables, Danny silently picked up the papers, and a rock dropped in his stomach.
"Uranium Health Effects."
The paper didn't appear to have come from a doctor's office, so Steve must have printed it from the internet. The place where you google your symptoms and then you're convinced you'll die in two days, Danny thought. A little skeptical, Danny scanned the paper, eyes catching large bold titles like, "Radiological Toxicity."
The rock in his stomach developed into a fricking bolder, Danny stole another anxious glance at the kitchen and began reading.
"Exposure to uranium can result in both chemical and radiological toxicity. The main chemical effect associated with exposure to uranium and its compounds is kidney toxicity. … Very high uranium intakes (ranging from about 50 to 150 mg depending on the individual) can cause acute kidney failure and death."
Danny felt his knees weaken at the joint.
"And death."
Next thing he knew, he was sitting on the floor with his back to the desk. He would start crying, but he was too in shock.
"And death."
His breaths were getting quicker.
"And death."
"Hey man, you okay?" Steve walked in, towel over his shoulder. When his hazel eyes met the scene of Danny crumpled on the floor holding the uranium paper, he didn't know whether to be angry or heartbroken. Angry because Danny snooped in his stuff, or heartbroken because the tough Jersey cop looked like he was about to cry.
"Danny, I printed that off the internet. Don't-"
"Kidney failure and death, Steven! Why the living fuck didn't you mention that last night?"
Steve's mouth was slightly ajar, taken aback at Danny's shouting. "I didn't-"
"You didn't know! The fuck you didn't know! When were you going to tell me?"
"I printed that out this morning. The doctor said-" Steve tried to butt in, but his voice was quickly failing him.
"You told me some 'side effects down the road'. Dying is a little bit more than a side effect!"
"Danny!"
"Why would you keep this from me? I thought we had a mutual agreement that if one of us were dying we would tell the other one!" Danny's voice choked on the last word.
Steve slid down on the door frame, so he was sitting five feet away from Danny, eye to eye. "Telling someone makes it more real, ya know?" Another deep sigh. "And I know you'd freak out, a-and I wasn't ready. It took me a week to even tell you the truth."
Danny was silent, and for once in his life took a moment to wisely choose his next words. Steve was sharing his emotions, which has only happened maybe three times in the eight years he'd known the stoic military man. And one time was only because Steve was drugged out of his mind by Wo Fat. Danny learned to not take these moments lightly, and be very careful with his lightning fast Jersey tongue.
"Did the doctor mention anything about kidney failure?" Danny's tone became a million times gentler, "his father tone." The same tone he would use if Grace was in tears or upset.
Steve didn't reply right away, pulling up one knee and resting his arms on top. His gaze would only meet the hardwood floor, not Danny's intense azul eyes. The silence lingered before a very small, tired voice, a voice that didn't belong to Danny's boss or best friend, a voice that didn't belong to a badass Lieutenant Commander, a voice that didn't belong to a gruff Navy SEAL, a voice that didn't belong to Steve Danger McGarrett, said, "Yes. He mentioned kidney failure. And cancer."
Cancer. Once again, Danny felt pierced through the heart by a very sharp, long, jagged knife built from anxiety, betrayal, and fear.
Steve still wouldn't meet his eyes. "Cancer?" Danny choked out.
"I don't have cancer, Danny! I'm not going to get cancer! You asked about the, l-long term… well…" Again with the sigh. "This is it."
Danny stared at Steve like he was a ghost. Steven McGarrett didn't get cancer or kidney failures. He was indestructible. He was shot four times and shredded his liver yet was awake and recovering in a week. He was a McGarrett. 'A different breed,' Steve told him once. And that different breed was immune to fear and death. At least that's what Danny believed. What Danny has faith in every day when they go into a gunfight. The fact that Steve was well… Steve. Too stubborn to die, too loyal to leave the o'hana he loves, too strong to walk away from a fight.
Danny immediately traveled to the worse case scenario; that was simply his nature. In the breeze drifted the scents of hibiscus, ocean, and freshly cut grass. The sun shone, but something told him it shouldn't. Everyone wore black. Grover, Chin, Kono. Even Grace was dressed in a new dress, tears rolling down her cheeks but she didn't wipe them away. There was no point. They'd just come back. Danny walked forward, facing a gravestone. 'Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett. A beloved leader, friend, and brother. Navy SEAL.'
Danny fell to his knees.
"Danny! Danny! Hey, snap out of it!"
Danny's hazy eyes focused on the very much alive, 'aneurysm face' centimeters away from his own. "Danny! I'm not going to die. Okay! Not soon, anyway. I'm gonna be at Grace's wedding. And all those other things."
"She better graduate before she has a damn wedding," Danny quipped.
Steve relaxed at the snarky remark. "Danny, I know it's in your DNA to focus on the negative, but please try to be positive. For me? This isn't easy for me either, but… but I'm trying okay?"
Danny nodded.
"Love you Danno," Steve coaxed.
"The pizza's getting cold," Danny replied.
Steve frowned. After all that, Danny was talking about pizza. Steve knew sarcasm was Danny's defensive mechanism, how he built up walls of emotional protection, but c'mon..
When Steve didn't budge, he caved in. "Love you too, you stubborn son of a bitch. But seriously, the pizza's getting cold."
Shaking his head, but smiling nonetheless, Steve stood up and stretched to his complete 6'1 frame and headed towards the "freezing pizza." Danny, eight inches shorter, followed pursuit but folded up the uranium paper and stuck it in his pocket before Steve could notice.
He'd just slipped it in, when Steve froze and turned around, concern etched on his features. Danny reeled back so he wouldn't slam into the brick wall that was Steve McGarrett's abs. "We good?" Steve asked.
"Yeah, we're good, as long as you learn to walk forward like a normal person and not unexpectedly stop," Danny waved his arms around.
"Alright. I'm gonna finish this salad. See if you can find the Jets game."
Just like that, the brotherhood between the detective and Navy SEAL was solid again. Danny tried to put the paper in his pocket out of his mind while flipping through channels, but it felt like a nagging itch right where one couldn't scratch.
Steve plopped the plates of microwaved pizza on the mahogany table, then retrieved the salad. The commentary for the NFL game was blaring, as the rich football players prepared for kickoff. It was so loud, Danny almost didn't hear the phone go off, delivering the call of his life.
A clip of Electric Light Orchestra's "Evil Woman" starting playing from his ass pocket and Danny sighed. Just what he needed. The lovely ex-wife, Rachel.
"I guess you and Rachel aren't okay?" Steve shook his head at the '70's song, turning down the game.
"Ya think?" He mentally prepared himself, then pressed the green 'Accept.' "Yes, dear?"
"Detective Williams, I assume?" a deep, distorted, unknown voice engulfed the room, sending both Steve and Danny into protective mode.
"Who the fuck is this?!" Danny barked, spine straight and tingling with ice.
"Someone who doesn't care if you see your family ever again, so I'd watch your language, detective. One wrong move and I kill, what's her name? Oh yeah. Little Gracie dies first, knowing her father failed her, unless you do everything I say."
Danny's grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles were white. "I'm listening."
Author's Note: Remember those comments? I hoped you would. Please make my day and leave me comment cookies. They're the only cookies that won't ruin my diet. Love ya'll. Message me if you want to chat. Thanks for reading! (Comments also let me know if I should continue the story.)
Referenced page: .anl .gov /uranium /guide /ucompound /health /index . cfm