If Tomorrow Never Comes
A/N: When an episode is so awesome and intense like 9x10, I can't help writing about it. It left me an emotional mess so I tried to put all my feelings on (metaphorical) paper and came up with this coda. It hasn't been an easy process, mostly because a few days later the promo pics for 9x11 came out and I had to scratch half of what I had written as it looked like the show was going a whole different way.
I am thrilled that they're finally acknowledging Steve's vulnerabilities. It's been a long time coming. Hopefully the upcoming episode won't disappoint.
This is my take on what happened. I needed Danny to get to his best friend and try to get him back from the grief and the isolation he'd chosen. Might be slightly AU as I'm not sure what the writers have in mind, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. A big thank you to Ginsteer for the help. Much appreciated, my friend.
Haven't read any of the other post-9x10 fics yet, so I hope this is not a repeat.
The sun set not too long after Joe's passing; the beautiful, pastel light slowly turning into a darker hue.
It was indeed a gorgeous sight, one that Steve would've appreciated —enjoyed even, if he hadn't just witnessed the death of his mentor, the one person who had shaped him into the man he was today.
Right now, he hated it all.
The sun, the mountains, the big ponderosa tree.
The tears falling down his face. The feeling of Joe's dead body pressed against his.
His carefully elaborated plan had backfired spectacularly and now he was the only one alive, the only SEAL standing. Kind of ironic, if he stopped to think about it. He was the one who had taken out Hassan in Morocco. Exposed Greer's status as a double agent. His whole team that had been obliterated for nothing.
All because of him.
"I'm sorry, Joe..." he whispered between sobs, hand still cradling the older man's head against his chest. "I'm sorry..."
There was a crushing weight holding him down, a heavy feeling like the world was resting on his shoulders and there was nothing he could do to escape the pressure. And at the same time, a sense of emptiness in his heart, a shear of nothingness that was slowly taking over, threatening to enfold him entirely.
Joe was gone.
The man who had believed in him when no one else had. Not even himself. Who had given him hope and a purpose when he was lost and untethered. The anchor he'd held on to even when things got complicated; even through the lies, the misleading, the interference run to keep him from learning the truth.
Wincing in pain as his muscles screamed from sitting in the same position too long Steve shifted slightly, moving both of their bodies so that he was leaning against the tree's massive trunk. He wondered how many secrets Joe had taken with him, how many stories about his family, information that could've helped him understand who his parents were and why they'd acted the way they had.
But that didn't matter now. Nothing mattered other than making sure Omar Hassan paid for his deeds. And Greer, who had brought nothing but deception and pain since she'd come back into his life.
He would get justice for Joe. No matter what.
"Man, I miss you already..." he said in a whisper. "I know you wouldn't like me sitting here crying like this but... Thanks for looking out for me, Joe. It meant a lot..."
Stretching his legs out in front of him, he wiped an errant tear from his eye.
His limbs ached. Heck, his whole body did. In less than 24 hours he'd been cut with a knife, hit in the head, blown up and shot at. He was exhausted.
He knew he had to move before it got completely dark. Grab the horses and go back to the ranch, only he couldn't bring himself to move, go back to a reality in which yet another person in his life had been violently taken away.
His father.
Freddie.
Joe.
Half a dozen SEAL buddies.
How many more would be on the list until he finally broke?
It had been a long time since he'd felt so alone, so lost, so incapable of doing anything but sit there with salty tears flowing from his eyes, shaking from the stress and the adrenaline dump.
The sound of his cell phone ringing pulled him from his memories. Sniffling, Steve reached for his jeans pocket, only to realize it wasn't there.
Right.
Joe had slapped it out of his hands when he'd kept him from calling for help. When he had decided to die.
He ignored it, unwilling to break contact, hoping it would stop. It did, but only for a few seconds.
Shaking his head in frustration, Steve carefully maneuvered Joe's body and propped him up against the tree, then rose on unsteady legs and followed the sound to the grass nearby. The device felt heavy in his shaky hands, almost foreign. It was only the name displayed on the screen that prompted him to accept the call instead of dropping it right back to the ground.
"Steve…"
Danny's tone was unmistakable at the other end of the line.
"Danny… How— how'd you...?"
"Lou called right after Joe cancelled the Medevac."
Oh.
"I'm sorry. I told them not to call you. Didn't want you to be involved."
Danny frowned. His friend sounded bone-tired, or in shock. Or simply at the end of his rope, and it killed him not to be there to help him through it. "Shut up, would you? You should've told me in the first place."
"This is on me, Danny. My whole team's dead because of me. I couldn't risk— and then Gracie... man, I'm sorry I ruined your time with her..."
"I swear to God, Steve... you're lucky you're a thousand miles away 'cause this is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You going on a suicide mission with Joe trumps touring colleges with my daughter any day."
"I had to do this alone..."
"Look, I'm not gonna argue about that, alright? It's not the time or place. I don't understand your reasons, but I respect them. Just…you could've died, man. How'd you think I would've felt knowing I couldn't do anything to stop it?"
Probably exactly how he felt right now.
Like he was being torn apart.
"Joe's dead..." he whispered hoarsely. "He was like a father to me, Danny, and he's gone..."
The emotional pain seeping out in his words hurt more than Danny had ever thought possible. "I know, buddy, and I'm really sorry."
"He gave up... I wanted him to fight but he gave up."
"He probably knew it was time..."
"I wasn't ready, Danny..." Steve croaked out, his voice wavering from sheer emotion. "I'm not ready to lose him. Not him too..."
"Steve, listen to me. It's gonna be alright. We're gonna go back home and we're gonna figure out what to do next, alright? We're gonna make sure the people who did this pay for what they've done. And I'm gonna be there with you the whole time... Now, where are you?"
He cleared his throat. "Ah...Bitterroot Valley. There's this... tree Joe wanted to see one last time. He took me here... took me here to die."
"Listen, I'm gonna coordinate with Lou and Junior and get somebody there to retrieve the body. You just stay there, alright?"
"Wait, there's... oh, man, Cole…" he breathed out as his shoulders sagged and fresh tears threatened to spill. "There's another body at the ranch. My SEAL buddy, Cole. He came out here to help us..."
"Tell me where this place is. I'm coming over."
"No... Danny, don't. You just...you just stay with Grace. Finish your tour."
"There's no way in hell I'm doing that, and you know it."
"I'll... I'll take care of the bodies and I'm gonna get back home. I need to... come up with a plan, make a few calls..." His head ached from the pressure of too many thoughts but he would not rest until justice was served. He owed Joe as much.
"How can I help, Steve? What can I do? If you don't want me to come over let me at least arrange transport. I'll book you a flight home and meet you at the airport."
"I'll call you back. Might be able to get a military ride to Hickam."
"Alright. Grace and I will be on the next plane home and... I'll see you tomorrow."
Steve wiped at his face and released a heavy breath. "Thanks, Danny."
"Don't mention it," Danny replied, his own voice betraying a slight quiver. "I'm really sorry, Steve. I know how much he meant for you, and... I just wanted to say that I'm here for you, and that I'm glad you're alive."
Steve never made it to Hickam, or any regular airport.
Not that day, not the day after.
On the third day, Danny tried to reach him, only to have his calls go straight to voicemail. After checking with Junior and the rest of the team and learning no one had heard from him he packed up a backpack and announced he was heading to Montana, whether Steve liked it or not.
For the first time in nine years, Steve hadn't come home after a mission, and Danny chastised himself for underestimating the situation and the grief his best friend was obviously trying to cope with.
Junior, loyal as ever, tried to stop him, bringing up their SEAL training and showing him the two-word text he'd received with direct orders to make sure no one came. Yet Junior didn't know Steve like he did, didn't know the demons haunting his mind and the feelings he hadn't addressed and processed in years because he was too proud and ashamed to admit he even had them.
The debate stalled him for another day, but when no news came and his messages continued to remain unanswered, Danny started to unravel. His voicemails grew in both intensity and volume, at first trying to reason with him to come home and then threatening to come get him and knock some sense into him. He needed to do something to help, and he wasn't going to stay in Hawaii a minute longer.
Steve's call came as he was heading to the airport. A flat, monotone voice he barely recognized asked him to please leave him alone. He wasn't ready to face anyone and most importantly, be the leader they all looked up to. The short conversation rattled Danny to the core, convincing him even more than what his friend needed was the opposite of the very thing he was asking. Steve didn't know how to be himself right now, didn't know how to deal with emotions because no one had taught him. The Navy had trained him to be a killing machine, but he was completely powerless and unprepared to handle feelings and the fallout from such a huge loss.
It didn't surprise Danny a bit that he had chosen to isolate himself. That had always been his first instinct. Lick his wounds in private, so to speak. It saddened him mostly, for he'd hoped his influence had helped him open up a bit and rely on others. Nine years of friendship had smoothened most of his angles but were apparently not enough to erase decades of training and emotional abuse.
Danny didn't mind. He accepted the challenge and vowed to do whatever was in his power to put his friend back together. And that started with him getting on a plane to middle-of-nowhere, Montana.
Two planes, countless hours and a hellish jeep ride later, Danny finally arrived at Joe's ranch. Shifting the gear into park he bit at his lower lip, mentally preparing himself for what he'd find.
The place, perfect if you wanted to sever your ties and be a recluse, looked as if it had been through a war. Danny got out of the car, taking in the burned-out vehicles surrounding the property and the bullet holes littering the wooden cabin. The fight must've been brutal. Steve really could've died here.
He had never been a fan of Joe White. Secretive, deceiving, manipulative, the man had done zilch to earn his trust. But he didn't deserve to die, and his untimely demise had shaken Steve so much Danny wasn't sure he'd recognize the person he was about to face.
As expected, the sound of the car approaching drew Steve's attention. One of the curtains inside the house moved, and he opened the door a moment later.
When he got his first glance at his partner, Danny felt his heart twist painfully in his chest.
Steve looked like the poster child for desolation. He came towards him with a slow, unsteady gait and a defeated posture, staring vacantly at nothing. A week's worth of thick bear framed a face blank with shock and pain and littered with cuts and bruises, making him look older than he had just a few days before. His eyes were dull, spent, robbed of their usual warmth, like he had just taken a momentary step back, withdrawing from life. The knife holstered to his hip and the gun in his hand only added to the picture of misery and distress.
He stopped a few feet from him and stood there, staring at the ground by Danny's feet.
"I asked you not to come."
"Yeah, well, I'm here anyway, and judging from your good looks I'm damn glad I am."
"You alone?"
Danny nodded.
Steve seemed to approve of the answer and his stance relaxed a little.
"Joe?"
The former SEAL sighed, squeezing his eyes shut tight for a moment. "I, uh… buried him under the tree. Figured, you know, he'd like it there..." He sucked in a short, stabbing breath, struggling against tears that almost a week later, still refused to stop.
"How are you holding up?" Danny asked softly. He swiped a hand up and down, indicating his general appearance. "I mean, aside from the obvious."
This was worse than he'd imagined. A couple more days and they would have lost Steve for good.
Answering the question required words and strength Steve simply didn't have. As language failed him, his eyes locked onto Danny's and he spelled out what he couldn't speak. Then in an uncharacteristic surge of need and gratitude, he opened his arms and reached out to him for a much-needed hug.
Without hesitation, Danny wrapped his own arms around him and pulled him close. This was it, why he'd insisted on coming. If he could provide even one moment of reprieve, it would have all been worth it.
Steve sunk into the warmth of his friend's body pressed against his. The physical contact soothed him more than he had expected. In Danny's arms, all the pain went away and his mind was at peace, albeit temporarily.
Danny's love was pure, undemanding, free.
The kind of love he had spent all his adult life longing for.
When he pulled back, his partner's firm, strong grasp latched onto his forearm. "Let's go," Danny said, guiding him towards the cabin. "You, my friend, need a shower, food and sleep. In this exact order."
"Stop it. Don't treat me like I'm about to break. I don't need your pity."
Too late, Danny thought to himself. Steve was already broken.
"Buddy, I hate to break it to you but you're the one living like a hermit in a god-forsaken valley in Montana. I bet you're even wearing the same clothes you did when you first came out here."
Steve looked at his stained, tattered gray shirt. Staying at the ranch had been an impulsive decision and after five days, even the spare one he'd brought was in desperate need of washing. He watched Danny walk around the kitchen and living room area, taking in the damage done by the RPG and occasionally shake his head, dismay evident on his face.
Concern turned into disbelief when he spotted a half-folded sleeping bag lying in a corner of the floor.
"What is this? Huh?"
"Don't— don't touch that."
Unfazed, Danny picked it up anyway. "This where you've been sleeping?"
"I said don't!" Steve snapped, snatching the sleeping bag from his partner's hand. "Don't like what you see, you can go back where you came from."
Danny shook his head resolutely. He had expected this. The rage. He'd learned to recognize Steve's tells and anticipate every behavior. "Uh-uh. I'm not staying. And neither are you, not a minute longer than necessary."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Like hell you aren't. Take a look around, Steve," he said, arms spread wide. "Any of this familiar?"
Steve stared at him with a frown on his face.
"First it's the house where your dad's been murdered, now you're living in the ranch where Joe died, surrounded by bullets scattered around like seeds in every room. Why do you do that to yourself?"
Finally, it hit him. Steve took a step backwards, stunned. "Shut up..."
"Do you see the irony in that?"
He did. And it was too painful to accept. He turned his head away to hide his tears and pointed towards the front door. "I'm serious, Danny. Go away," he choked. "I don't need a babysitter."
"See, that's where you're wrong my friend because this," he said, pointing to the mess around them, "This here is a cry for help and I trust you to reach out to me, your best friend, when things get this bad!"
Leave it to Danny Williams to strip his soul naked and expose all his fears before he even realized it. "I just—I just need time…"
"It's been almost a week, man, and you're not getting better. I promised I wouldn't argue your decision to take down a whole bunch of trained assassins by yourself but the mission's over now. You need to come home."
Home.
Where danger had snuck out on him without notice.
A sanctuary that wasn't safe anymore.
"No, it's not. And I'm not ready to come home."
Danny took a few steps forward, coming closer. Invading his space. Steve folded his arms protectively across his frame, feeling completely exposed and unsettled. "You're hurting. I get it, alright? But there's healthier ways, ways that do not include you wasting away in the middle of nowhere!" He placed both hands on Steve's biceps and tilted his head up, searching his gaze. "I'm right here, Steve. Tell me what you need."
Steve deflated, collapsing onto the nearby couch. "It's all my fault. Joe's dead because of me..."
"You know that's not true..."
"I took the shot, I killed Hassan," he insisted, trying to prove his point. "I outed Greer and had her arrested. I started all this and I can't... I can't get past that…"
Danny crouched next to him, one hand settling soothingly on Steve's shoulder. "Then let's focus on doing something good, on bringing down the people who did this to him."
"I told him to go into the wind, that I'd do this on my own. I told him he didn't have to be here but he wouldn't listen..." The last threads of his control threatened to shred and he covered his face with his hands. "It hurts, Danny. It hurts so fucking much..."
"I know, buddy. I know..."
Seconds dragged. Steve slowly reigned his emotions back in and wrapped his fingers around Danny's wrist. A touch that was both gentle and demanding of attention. "Please leave. It's not safe for you here... That's why—I wanted to protect you… all of you."
Danny swallowed hard. Steve had voluntarily isolated himself. To grieve, yes, but also to shield his family from harm.
"I'm not gonna leave you alone, Steve. I've done that for too long already."
Pursing his lips, the former SEAL acknowledged the reply with a weary nod. The last thing he wanted was to put Danny's life in danger but right now, in this moment, all he felt was relief.
And renewed motivation.
"I need to find Hassan. I promised Joe that I would."
"Are you gonna go off on your own again?"
Steve shook his head, his mood darkening again at the thought of what lay ahead. "I'm not doing this alone."
"Good."
"I'm calling for help."
THE END