AN: This one is sadder than the rest.
Warnings: M/M
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Shifting Pendulum
Steve knew something was wrong the day he found Max sleeping at his desk. He'd noticed that the M.E. had been napping a lot lately, even when he retired to bed at an earlier time. Treading lightly he strode to the inert figure and placed a hand on the white lab coat, giving the shoulder a shake. "Max."
Max jerked awake, rubbing his eyes groggily. "Yes Steve?" He turned his chair to face the commander.
Steve's expression turned to one of worry. Max's golden skin was pale, dark circles rimming his eyes and droplets of sweat beaded his forehead. He reached out and touched Max's forehead, finding the telltale heat of fever. "Max you're burning up."
"It is no big deal." He reached up his cheek, rubbing it gently.
His eyes flicked to the cheek Max nursed, burning with concern when he spotted the bruise blossoming over the skin. Without another word he fished his phone from his pocket and began a text message.
"What are you doing?" He gave a yawn, stretching tiredly.
"Telling Danny to hold it down. I'm taking you to the doctor."
"I do not need to visit a doctor."
"Max, you're tired all of the time."
"We have two small children."
"Max…"
"Steve."
"Max." This was said with increasing firmness.
The Asian man flinched under the intensity of 'the look' and heaved a defeated exhalation. "Fine."
They visited their preferred clinic, and after an hour-long wait they were called to the back. Steve accompanied Max to the back; sure his partner would dilute the severity of his symptoms alone. He listed Max's symptoms much to his mate's chagrin. After a spat about the persistent rash on Max's side he persuaded his partner to reveal it. He noticed the change in the doctor's face, apprehension creeping into his bones.
The simple blood test took a worrying turn when Max wouldn't stop bleeding. Steve wouldn't admit it, but seeing the deeply concerned faces of the nurses as they applied pressure to the gauze covering the pinprick wound freaked him out. After the bleeding halted, the doctor stared that he would promptly notify them of the results.
Despite Max's protests he dropped him at home. The day went by in a blur, the case though bothersome ended in a relatively mundane raid. By the time he arrived home, the sun had already disappeared behind the oceanic horizon. He threw the car into 'park' and exited, casting a glance to the Crossover—their car used only for family outings—sitting in the driveway.
He opened the door, instantly met with the sound of high-pitched laughter and television. He'd hardly closed the door when two blurs collided with his legs, hugging them tightly. He looked down into the cherubic faces of his and Max's children, Ben and Sachiko. "Aloha munchkins."
He embraced them both, tousling the light brown hair of his son—who with piercing blue eyes was nearly his miniature carbon copy. With a smile, he hefted Sachi into his arms, kissing her cheek lovingly.
She giggled and snuggled him before being returned to the floor. "Love you lots daddy!" She chirruped and skipped away in her bumblebee outfit.
He returned the sentiment before heading towards the kitchen which emitted a delightful odor. "How was baseball practice Ben?" He addressed the small boy sidling up to him.
Ben shrugged lightly. "Productive." The light in his eyes belied his nonchalant pretense.
Steve raised an eyebrow at the answer. "Been in papa's dictionary again?"
Ben grinned widely before sitting down to watch cartoons.
He petted his son before striding towards the kitchen, meeting Sachi—whose pigtails bounced merrily as she skipped—on his way there. He looked upon his love with worried eyes once he accessed the kitchen. Max's movements were sluggish and deliberate as if he were concentrating on staying upright. "Hey babe." He put an arm around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his mouth before burying his nose into raven locks. "How are you feeling?"
The doctor looked up at him, weariness swimming in usually vibrant eyes. "Okay."
He knew Max felt less than his best but eight years of loving the other had given him experience. Max did not enjoy being treated like he was fragile, especially by him. "Need any help?"
He wrinkled his nose. "Perhaps you can grate the cheese and then I would suggest you go bathe."
He gave an amused chuckle at his love's candor and expression.
They had homemade pizza for dinner. He and Max consumed a chorizo and mushroom pizza while their children devoured an arugula goat cheese pizza. After dinner they settled down to watch television—a comedy the children adored but grated on his nerves. By 8:00 pm the children were prepped for bed, read their bedtime stories, and tucked in with lights out by 8:30.
Steve exited Sachi's room, leaving the door cracked. He made the usual rounds, checking to make sure all doors and windows were bolted, his guns were safely stashed, and no dangerous appliances were on. Afterwards he climbed the stairs and entered their bedroom. A soft expression played through his eyes when he found his mate lying on his back a voluminous book spread upon his belly, sound asleep.
Walking over he removed the book and drew the covers over him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. His heart fluttered when Max smiled and made a pleased sound in his sleep. God he loved this man with his whole heart which was why he was so afraid. Deep down, he felt like something ominous loomed on his family's horizon, something that would conceal the silver lining in its dark clouds. He grasped Max's hands and placed a kiss upon each finger before cutting the bedside lamp and exiting.
He sat on the couch, jumping up when something hard poked his ass. He reached down and glared down at the culprit: one of Ben's action figures. With a curse he plucked up the toy and set it down next to him—opting to put it in the toy box later. He turned on the radio, allowing music to play softly. He proceeded to disassemble his gun and clean it. His mind drifted to his family, remembering the day he and Max decided to add another room because of the possibility of their new additions.
Ben was his through a surrogate and Sachiko was adopted as a 13 month old from some village 99 clicks of nowhere in Japan. Strange thing was that Ben seemed to possess Max's demeanor while Sachi—the little hellraiser—displayed his. He would be lying if he said he took to being a father easy. Truth was, he had always been awkward around children, but after a while he saw what the fuss was about. His children brought him pure joy.
When he rose the next morning Max was already gone. He found his family in the kitchen. Max finished packing Ben's bento box while trying to get Sachi to calm down and keeping an eye on the waffles atop the griddle. Steve greeted his mate then his children, gazing at Sachi's outfit with bewildered eyes. What the hell? "Max, a tutu, zebra tights, and a tiara?"
Sachiko finished off her orange juice before deciding to speak. "Every girl is a princess by right daddy," she chirped matter-of-factly.
Steve's expression softened at the kittenish brown eyes looking up at him. "I know that bunny." He kissed her cheek grinning when she began to sing a nonsensical song.
His eyes fell upon Ben who sat in his booster chair gaze quietly on Max. "Daddy is papa okay?" He asked when his father came to sit next to him.
Steve stared down into Ben's uncannily perceptive azure eyes. "Why do you ask?" He cut his eyes to Sachi who had stopped singing in favor of their conversation.
"He didn't play piano this morning."
Steve leaned down to speak to his son. "Papa just isn't feeling well, but I took him to the doctor already."
Ben flicked his eyes to Max then back to Steve as if considering his answer. "Okay."
"Daddy Ben won't let me use his iPad!" Sachi screeched.
"Because you can't read Sachi and you always drop it."
She stuck her tongue out and thus began the bickering. Their squabbling went on until Sachi looked about ready to leap from her high chair and tear her brother's head off.
Steve, accustomed to the situation, walked to the counter and grabbed a cup of coffee. He drank it leisurely before heaving a meditative sigh. He caught the spoon Sachi hurled at her brother and set it down. "Enough you two."
Those three sternly stated words were all it took to end the dispute.
He sat down to read the newspaper in wonderful silence, lifting it when Max delivered the plates. He heard the phone ring.
"Hello?" Max asked. "Ah yes good morning Doctor Willis."
Steve turned to regard Max upon mention of the doctor's name. He could not hear the doctor's report, but the look of fear that fluttered over Max's face spoke volumes. "Babe?" He rose and strode to him, waiting for the conversation's end. "What's wrong?" He inquired once Max hanged up.
Max opened his mouth then closed it again. "You should eat before your food grows cold."
"Max?" He grabbed his love's hand, heart filled with increasing anxiety.
Coffee brown eyes shifted to the two children happily consuming their blueberry waffles before flicking to his mate. "The children."
Steve released the hand silently promising that they would talk about the doctor's results. Breakfast quickly proceeded, ending with their plates being tossed in the dishwasher. The two men ushered their children from the house and into Steve's truck. Ben was dropped at school—kindergarten—and Sachi at Loving Hands daycare which left them alone in the truck.
Steve shut off the annoying sing-along music and glanced at his somber love. "What did the doctor say?"
"They found abnormalities in my blood. So, they have made an appointment for tomorrow with an oncologist." When Steve gazed at him blankly he added, "a cancer specialist."
A breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding fled his lungs in a tremulous emission. Please no. He gripped the wheel, swallowing his heart. "Okay, but that doesn't mean you have it right? I mean they're just covering all of their bases." He halted at a traffic light.
Silence.
"Maybe they'll just tell you that you have an iron deficiency and should eat more liver and take pills for it or something." Steve was grasping at straws trying to find any strand of optimism. He desperately wanted to believe his words and smother the apprehension roiling in his gut.
Max looked to him, forcing a small grin. "Perhaps."
Steve sat in his office, gazing at the framed picture of his spouse and children. They had been on a camping trip and happened upon the waterfall when Steve decided to take a picture. They stood together, the children grinning broadly into the camera. He traced their smiles with his thumb, putting it down once notified they had a case. Again, the day passed like the wind.
Before Steve knew it they were meeting the oncologist, Dr. Lila Kokolani, a pretty middle-aged woman. He wanted to accompany his love in the back but after a brief quarrel he conceded defeat and sat down with a sigh. Hours passed, during which he notified the team of his whereabouts. Finally Max returned a little worse for wear. Dr. Kokolani escorted them out, informing them that they would be notified about the results shortly.
Life resumed as normal until the day they received the call. They were asked to visit the office.
A sepulchral silence pervaded the truck. Steve stared at the road ahead, body on autopilot. He felt numb down to his bones. Leukemia. That one word had tilted his world upon its axis and shattered it almost down to the core. He knew from the doctor's grave visage when she entered the room that it was bad news, so he had steeled himself. But still he was unprepared for the report. Nothing, not his tactical skills, Navy SEAL training were of any usage and that was like a kick in the teeth.
His gaze flicked to Max. Max's gaze was hollow and distant as he stared out the window. During their relationship he had always been able to fix things like a knight coming to the rescue. But this… he felt helpless against this foe. He had been powerless to protect Max from this enemy. He glanced over to his mate. Fuck his feelings. What about Max?
He reached over to grasp Max's hand squeezing it in a gesture of comfort.
Max sniffled.
Steve pulled the truck over to a curb and unbuckled. He touched Max's shoulder. The broken way the other called his name crushed his heart. He yanked Max into his arms, crushing him to his body. The sobs wracking Max's smaller form aggrieved Steve with each agonizing cry. He swallowed his own pain, knowing that no more than any other time he had to be Max's unwavering support.
He cooed softly the M.E. He was not going to resort to banality and state that everything was going to be okay, because honestly that would be a lie. Their lives, their children's lives, were not going to be the okay for a long time. So, he just let his love cry himself out until his sobs were painful hiccoughs.
He caressed Max's hair looking deep into swollen, red-rimmed coffee eyes. Gently he pressed a kiss to those sweet lips, wiping tear-stained cheeks. "We'll get through this Max. We'll beat this."
Max nodded mutely before burying his face in his shoulder.
Steve had no idea how long they clung to each other. All he knew was that he wished time could stop and give him this respite before the real battle began.
He sat at his desk, laptop open, eyes scanning the different cancer research sites. He glanced up when the door opened and his second entered.
"Why do you look like the world is ending?"
He was in no mood for any visitors, not now. "Not now Danny."
Danny, sensing something was seriously wrong, leaned on his desk. "What's wrong?"
"Max…" His voice failed and he ran a hand through his dark hair.
"What's wrong with Max?"
"He has leukemia." Was that agony entrenched voice his own?
Danny plopped down into the chair before the desk. "Steve...God."
"Yeah. I have to take him to the hospital. They're going to do surgery on him and then he starts chemo."
"Max is a fighter Steve." He assured him.
"I know." He swallowed his pain. "But the kids…"
"Children are more resilient that you think."
The hand that landed on his shoulder had never felt so comforting.
"If you need anything—for me to keep the kids or to take off a while so you can tend to Max—it won't be a problem." He smiled sincerely down at his best friend. "I'm here for you whenever you need it."
Steve's tiny smile didn't begin to meet his eyes. "Thanks Danny."
He divulged the news to his core team—since the whole team consisted of a duo of new members. The unflagging support and care he received from them was a soothing balm. It reminded him that they were his ohana.
Later that evening while helping Max pack for his week-long hospital stay their children entered. "Daddy why is papa leaving? Papa are you leaving!" Sachiko ran up to him, panic in her shrill voice.
Max strode to the two children, embracing them both. "Papa is not leaving you. I just have to go to the hospital for a little while."
"Why?" Sachi asked tilting her head to the side.
"Because he's sick," Steve answered gently.
"But the doctors are going to make him all better right?" Ben looked to his daddy.
Steve swallowed, wanting to look away from the piercing, hope-filled eyes of his son. "Yeah." He knew the answer to the question could be a lie but he refused to acknowledge that he could lose his love of eight years.
He wrangled their children into their Crossover, dropping them at Danny's and Gabby's home. He accompanied Max to the hospital wishing he could follow him into surgery. Once it was over—hours later—he remained in the room the rest of the night, watching his Max with grieved eyes.
He returned from showering in the floor's complimentary bath kept specifically for family members. He found Max sitting upright a cheerful nurse sliding the IV into the port. The expressionless look on the Asian's face troubled him.
"Good afternoon Mister McGarrett," she chirruped saccharinely.
"Aloha."
"Okay Mister McBergman this first treatment is going to take an hour or so, but call us if you start to feel sick." She pointed to the button on the multi-purpose remote in his hand. "Okay bye Mister McBergman." She beamed at Steve. "Mister McGarrett."
"My nurse is annoying," Max observed in that clinical way of his. He lay back against the pillow, heaving a sigh.
"I don't know I kind of like McBergman. Has a certain ring to it."
Max merely gazed at him with slightly annoyed eyes. "Better than McGarrett?"
He gave a microscopic smile, trying to ignore the IV pumping chemicals into his spouse's system. The treatment was a double-edged sword, saving his life while simultaneously sickening him.
"You should be at work."
"Why?"
"To apprehend criminals of course."
"But I want to be here." He clasped Max's hand giving it a meaningful squeeze.
"But-."
"Max." He rose and pressed a peck to Max's cheek. "I want to be here, baby."
Max accepted his reason's clenching his hand.
The first day passed without incident, but was the next day that proved harder. He exited the elevator entering the cancer wing, giving the on-duty nurses a nod. What he found in the room broke his heart. Max sat doubled over vomiting into the pan the nurse held in her gloved hands. The urge to run to his love and draw him into his arms was near overwhelming but he remained in the doorway.
The drugs used in chemotherapy were highly potent and could be toxic to him. Any of Max's bodily fluids—vomit, urine, etc.—were possibly hazardous. So, as a precaution he had to reluctantly remain outside. After the ordeal concluded and Max was cleaned up, he entered the private room.
"Why are you here?" Max demanded weak from his treatment and puking.
Steve put a hand on Max's forehead before placing a kiss to it. "Good afternoon to you too."
"You should be at work. I did not take you for a slacker." The harshness in his voice didn't have any real bite, being consumed by the weariness in its overtones.
"It's a slow day and you're not getting rid of me that easily." He sat on the bed, drawing Max close.
"Unfortunately," he retorted, frowning up at him.
"Don't push me away Max. I know you-."
"You don't know how I feel Steve." He pushed him away. "You're not the one with cancer."
The acidic bite in his words stung. "You're right but I understand Max. Because honestly, I'm scared too." He whispered the last part. "So please babe don't push me away. Not now."
Max frowned at him before curling into a ball and turning away.
Steve sighed and flopped down in the bedside chair before laying his head on the mattress. Could their relationship survive this? His eyes fell upon his mate's back, remembering reading on some of the cancer support sites about those whose mates had abandoned them because the situations was too much to handle. He remembered the indignation and incredulity he had felt when reading the testimonies and he would be damned if he let this disease take their relationship. He cut his eyes slyly to the man blatantly ignoring him.
"Don't tell anyone I'm here to see my honey but this really hot M.E. caught my eye. I'm trying not to be a pervert and feel him up while he's having chemo, but he's so fucking irresistible." He could imagine Max rolling his eyes at the statement. With a wolfish smile he reached over and gently pinched Max's bottom.
Max turned over only to mock glower at him. "Pervert."
"Only for you ainee." He gave a small smirk to the bashful man trying to hide his face in the white pillow.
"About what I said…"
"The munchkins miss their papa," he stated quickly, wanting to avoid the oncoming sentimental conversation.
"I miss them too, but I just don't want them to see me like this here in this place," he stated brokenly.
Steve gave an understanding nod. "Then how about…" He caressed the side of Max's face when he winced. "You talk to them over the phone, I'm sure they'll be thrilled about that."
Max gave a nod. "Okay."
After that first disagreement the rest were scarce. Their lives changed drastically once Max was discharged. The treatments often left his love fatigued and ill which meant they had to find a part time replacement. Their budget became tighter because the insurance they managed to acquire only paid to a certain extent. So certain luxuries were nixed.
Suddenly, Steve found himself thrust into a world where he was everything. He took on Max's role in their home while simultaneously shouldering his role as lieutenant commander. He also had to remain a pillar for his children nurturing them while remaining Max's rock as he silently suffered. All of this, taking on the role of caretaker, weekend homemaker—they could not afford a housekeeper-, commander at a demanding job, and parent all required his complete attention. And he soon felt like he was being stretched thin.
He'd entered their room after having calmed Ben from his nightmares and soothed Sachi—who whined for her papa. The bed was empty. "Max?" He heard shuffling in the bathroom.
He stopped in the doorway, his discovery tugging ruthlessly at his heart.
Max stood in the bathroom mirror gazing at the patch of hair in his hands. "I'm losing my hair," he observed impassively.
The slump in Max's shoulders tore at his soul. He'd never seen his mate so dispirited. Without speaking he picked up his hair clippers, turned them on, and began cutting Max's hair. Sadness pierced him as the raven hair he was so fond of dropped to the floor in clumps. He soothed his love when he whimpered.
This moment, shaving Max's bald was like a shot to the gut. It made everything real, like it wasn't an endless nightmare. He closed his eyes and continued, letting the hum of the clippers fill the gaping silence. When he finished, he ran a soft damp cloth tenderly over Max's shaved head before kissing it gently. "See, not so bad." He draped his arms around Max laying his chin on his smaller shoulders.
Max stared at his reflection with a critical eye. "I look-."
"Beautiful." He nuzzled Max's ear affectionately.
Max bit his bottom lip. "Perhaps to you."
"Isn't that all that matters?" He replied, resting his head against his beloved mate. "Because bald or not I still love you baby." The kiss they shared afterwards unfortunately fanned a flame in their loins that had yet to be quenched. It had been many weeks since they'd made love and even if he wouldn't admit it Steve was horny as hell.
Max of course blushed, looking down at bit sadly. "Steve I-."
"I'm not going to die if we don't have sex babe. Okay?" He moved his hips away when Max began trailing his hands up his sides suggestively. God it had been so long.
"I can use my hand."
Steve felt his cock respond insistently when limpid coffee brown eyes gazed up at him expectantly. But he quelled his raging libido for a minute. "Max you don't have to."
He canted his head in surprise. "Are you declining a handjob Steve McGarrett? I assumed I would never see the day."
"No! No, I'm not declining just—if you feel up to it."
Max gave him a small grin.
He returned the smile and grabbed Max's hand, tugging him towards their bedroom.
Soon weeks turned into months and despite the controlled chaos that was his life, he rose to the challenges. He made sure Max ate healthy to keep up his strength. He continued to ensure that his team worked like a well-oiled machine. He determinedly made certain he was present for his children who would often sleep with them to be near their papa. But it tore through his strength like paper when he would hear Max whimpering in agony. Those were the times he would nearly force him to take his pain medication and watched with a sobbing heart as the medicine's potency whisked him into a dreamless slumber. Through it all his ohana remained his support, aiding him in any way possible—his sister even came to help.
The morning he woke to find Max awake and preparing a rather large breakfast he felt as if light was beginning to break through the gloom. That day was great. Max worked that entire day, prepared dinner that night, read the children their bedtime stories, they even had a little sexy time. Things were finally beginning to turn about.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
He wakened to find Max gone. "Babe." First thing he noticed was the bathroom light spilling into their otherwise darkened room. The second thing that caught his attention was the blood staining Max's pillow. He jumped from the bed, making it into the bathroom in seconds flat.
Max whirled to look at him a pile of tissue that was quickly being completely saturated held to his nose.
"Shit Max." The doctor warned them about a possible nosebleed and its dangers. He disposed of the used toilet paper, noticing Max had already used three-fourths of a fresh roll. With quick movements he unrolled a pillow of tissue watching with fearful eyes as the red viscous liquid streamed from his nostrils crowning his upper lip. "Fuck."
He placed the tissue to his nose, applying pressure. After a few minutes when the blood continued unabated he realized he needed an ambulance. He set his love—who had gone pale—on the toilet. "Shit. Mary!" He called for his sister, unwilling to leave Max. The last time he'd seen so much blood was when he'd been shot.
"Mary!" He bellowed. He knelt before Max, using a wet towel to soak up the unending trail of blood; applying pressure that he knew would leave a bruise on the other male's nose.
His sister appeared in the doorway, still in her pajamas. "Oh shit. Steve."
"Call an ambulance and bring me some ice," he commanded.
She nodded and disappeared. Soon, he heard her panicked voice conversing with the emergency operator.
His gaze fell to Max whose eyes were filled with fear. "Max, breathe okay? The ambulance will be here soon." The emotions swimming in vivid brown eyes speared his soul and ripped his heart. If it were possible he wished Max's pain could be transferred to him, that he was the one suffering not his beloved. Helplessness nearly overpowered him, but he focused, withdrawing the towel to check the blood flow. Fuck. Was it ever going to stop, because if it didn't slow soon Max was going to go into shock.
Mary returned with a baggie of ice in hand. "The ambulance is on its way."
Steve took the baggie from her and placed it on the back of Max's neck, making soothing noises to his mate.
"Daddy?" Ben peeked around Mary's legs. Perceptive ocean blue eyes fell to the blood staining Maxi's shirt and wet towel. "What's wrong with papa?"
Steve was for once thankful that Sachiko slept like the dead. "Ben go back to bed. Papa will be just fine."
Mary, who appeared to be fighting back her own panic, ushered him from the bathroom.
"Please don't die papa!" He cried before he disappeared from view.
"Max are you listening to me?" Max shifted unfocused eyes to him. "You're going to be okay. This is just a hiccup." He looked over his shoulder. "Where's the goddamned ambulance!" Max's platelets were low; he could bleed to death from this nosebleed.
What seemed like an eternity later, the flow slackened turning into a slow trickle right about the same time the ambulance arrived. Steve carried Max downstairs. In minutes flat the EMTs had Max on the stretcher. Steve hugged his children who were both wakened from the commotion, assuaging their sobs and reassuring them of their papa's welfare.
He left the children in Mary's care and followed the ambulance in his truck. He deemed that night Hell Night because he was sure Max had gone through torture before sunrise. He sat down in the waiting room fighting the urge to pace the floor like a caged animal. It had been torment waiting to hear the doctor's verdict.
Images of the blood flowing from Max's nose plagued him. He couldn't get the pleading message swimming in beautiful brown out of his head. The expression cleaved his soul mercilessly pointing out his uselessness. Max was a doctor, but he had never seen him look so scared. He buried his face in his hands, trying to block out the anxiety seeking to overreach him.
Steve sat in his seat dressed in a sharp black suit. His aquamarine eyes were unblinking his body motionless. He didn't hear the sobs surrounding him or the person giving a very poignant eulogy. The only things he sensed were the two small hands clutched in his and the black casket sitting behind the podium.
In the end it had all been futility. The leukemia had worked its wicked ways and taken him. His Max was gone and he had been unable to protect him. I'm sorry baby. The day Max took his last breath Steve felt himself die inside.
He looked down into Sachi's gaze. "Daddy why couldn't you save papa? You save people from bad guys why not papa?"
"I-." What could he say? Max was gone out of his reach where he could not follow. He bowed his head and squeezed the small hands grasped in them.
Steve's eyes snapped open, sleep-addled brain taking a moment to synchronize with his body. He turned over, sighing in relief when he felt the warm body next to him. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man, kissing his shoulder.
Max stirred but did not waken.
"Don't ever leave me, baby."
The fear of losing Max hurt him more than any bullet. He would gladly take a thousand bullet wounds if it meant Max would live. Wounds could be mended, stitched; medication could be administered to dull the pain. But this agony, there was no remedy for it. It was an incurable lacerating pain ruthlessly impaling his heart. "Please."
Steve sat in the darkness of the dining room with nothing but the light from his laptop providing an eerie illumination. He'd been crunching numbers for what seemed like hours and the result was not what he expected. Despite the mountain of medical expenses, delving into his own personal account, and the costs of their household bills somehow they managed to have enough to carry them through the month. He sighed and tunneled his fingers through his dark hair.
"Thank you god."
He picked up a stack of bills. Guess it was time to pay the fucking parasites. Begrudgingly he picked up one of the unfolded pieces of paper, a medical bill for Max's latest hospital visit, and gawked at the figures before deciding to pay it.
Hours later, Steve blinked his fatigued eyes before rubbing them with both hands. Shit he'd been staring at numbers for so long dollar signs danced behind his eyelids. He glanced to the clock. Midnight. "Damn." Soft footfalls alerted him to his sister's presence.
"How's it going?" She sat down across from him, a cup of coffee clasped in her hands.
"We've got enough to tie us over for the month. Though the trip to the aquarium will have to wait."
She took a sip of coffee and tilted her head, studying him with those perceptive eyes. "How are you holding up?" She asked concern evident in her eyes.
"Max has cancer, we have two small children, I have a demanding job, and hospitals are breathing down my freaking neck," he replied wearily. He felt like he was being yanked in a thousand different directions each needing his whole strength. He could only stretch so far and as loath as he was to admit it he was starting to consider if he was nearing that point.
Mary, sensing his inner turmoil, patted his hand sympathetically. "Go get some rest bro, you look like shit."
He chuckled at the blunt statement, something he hadn't done in a while, and retired to bed. Sliding beneath the covers his features softened when Max—still asleep—rolled until he was curled into his side, making a happy sound. Steve's heart swelled with affection and he encircled the other male within his arms, listening to the soothing tempo of his relaxed breathing.
Steve plopped down in one of the lawn chairs on their deck, handing Max a glass of ominous green liquid. His observant gaze landed upon the picture his mate held in his hands before he looked away to watch the two children playing merrily in the backyard. He cast a glance to the other male, catching the look of wistfulness in those chocolate depths.
"Ben brought me peanut butter and jelly sandwich he prepared with his own hands while Sachi delivered a cup of milk," he stated forlornly fidgeting with the thin throw cover thrown over his legs.
"They're our kids and they love you."
"They brought it to me because they know I am too weak to do it myself," he answered bitterly.
The current direction of their current conversation alarmed Steve. "Max, they love you."
Max heaved a sigh, eyes looking into the distance. "Afterwards…you should get someone else."
Steve's head snapped around to look at the other man brow furrowing. "What the fuck are you talking about?" The slight harshness in his tone could not be helped.
He saw Max flinch at the tone. "I'm just a burden," he stated despondently.
"Max you're not a burden." He turned in his lawn chair to give the conversation his complete focus.
"Am I not? I saw the medical bills."
He inwardly cursed himself. He usually hid the bills from Max because he knew how the other would react. Unfortunately, this time he forgot to hide them before going to bed.
"You're stretched too thin, our children are trying to take care of me, and we have a substantial amount of medical bills. Steve, all of you are suffering because of me." He kept his head downcast, fingers continuing to fidget with the tassels of the throw.
The anguish choking Max's voice tore at his soul, making him wish he could take away the pain. He grasped Max's hand, clenching it in his. "Max, look at me," he commanded. He allowed his features to soften when brown eyes looked at him almost timidly. "Baby, you have leukemia. Our lives have just changed, we're not suffering."
Max chewed his bottom lip, fidgeting becoming more pronounced. "Sometimes—sometimes I believe you all would be better off if I-."
"Max if you finish that sentence I swear to God I will feed you Brussels sprouts puree though a funnel," he threatened, trying to control the break that threatened to overtake his words.
Max clamped his mouth shut.
He snatched the picture from Max's hand, pointing to the two children beaming at them. "You see these two people? They need you Max. They need you to watch them grow up into infuriating teenagers before becoming responsible adults. So stop worrying about us. We'll suffer even more if we lose you."
Max glanced up at him unsurely before pointing to the third person in the photograph. Steve. "What about this person?"
Steve gave him a loving smile before answering with little embarrassment. "He needs you to grow into a grouchy old man with him." He smiled at the light that fluttered through Max's dark chocolate eyes before being drawn into a passionate kiss.
"Cooties," Ben stated drolly.
Steve drew away, grinning at his son's familiar statement. He caught Sachi when she all but tackled him, squealing for a story from her papa. "Okay bunny, but you have to wait until papa has finished his slurry." He gave Max a wicked grin when the other made a put out face. Max abhorred his health slurries and if he could would find a way to avoid drinking them, which was why Steve made it a point to make certain he foiled his efforts.
Max heaved a sigh, frowning at the face Sachi pulled. "Papa why do you drink that it looks icky."
"Ask daddy little one."
"Daddy makes you drink that?" Ben asked somewhat incredulously. "What did you do to him?"
"Nothing, he's just a t-"
"It's so he can get better faster," Steve drawled with a gleeful grin.
"Oh, then you should drink it papa." Their daughter stated seriously.
"The less appetizing it is the better it is for you," Ben remarked folding his arms in a classic Steve McGarrett pose.
Steve passed his mate a smug grin, for it was the very adage Max repeated to the children every time they had to take some sort of disgusting remedy. There was nothing like eating your own words at the hands of your own children.
"Are you sure he is not a clone of you?" Max asked Steve, actually earnest in his questions.
Sachi adopted her brother's pose, though she sat cradled in her daddy's lap. "Now papa don't you say lead by example."
Max looked up at Steve who was trying to hold in his laughter. "Nazis the both of you," he muttered petulantly.
Steve rode his board through the tunnel of waves. Surfing had become like his meditation in the time since Max fell ill. It was something about the sea that calmed the myriad of emotions' clamoring cries. The roar of the ocean as he rode her roiling surface drowned out his fears and doubts, granting him with a brief interval of peace.
He sat upon the sand, gazing at the moonbeams dancing across the ocean's glossy surface. The thought of Max thinking they were better off without him dead sent a spire of unmatched anguish ripping through his nucleus. How was he supposed to remain the rock in face of such open despair?
"Thought I'd find you here."
He glanced over his shoulder. "Hey Danny," he greeted morosely.
As if sensing he didn't want to talk Danny simply plopped next to him.
He gazed out of the serene ocean, thoughts tossed with the force of a hurricane. Max needed him to be his rock. Ben and Sachiko needed him to be their constant pillar. And his team needed him to be their unflinching commander. Who supported him? Who supported the pillar when it cried out beneath its load, when it sought help? For months he had been battling against his own vortex of anguish to remain resolute but everyday he felt his soul fissure a little more. And it was there on the beach with only Danny for company that he finally let go.
Steve cried. He cried for every day his family had to suffer. He wept for the days when Max's cries of agony woke him from slumber and he had to witness his love's consuming pain. He wept for the increased level of solemnity that his children had adopted since Max's illness. But there were no sobs, no wails, just silence as he buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with repressed outcries.
He didn't know how long he wept but he knew that by the time he stopped Danny was holding him in a comforting embrace and his head ached. He drew away, wiping his eyes and cheeks, embarrassed at his outburst. The last time he'd cried was when his mother died. He squared his shoulders and cleared his throat, running a hand through his damp hair. "Thanks Danny."
Danny gave a small nod, ocean blue eyes full of empathy. "No problem. You wanna go get a beer?"
"Yep."
He stood in the doorway of their room gazing at the heartwarming scene. Max lay curled on his side with Ben and Sachi curled on either side of him, all three fast asleep. The sight made him smile, especially since Sachi had a thumb in her mouth. After his shower he climbed into the large bed and joined the trio, falling asleep rather quickly.
Three weeks later they fulfilled their appointment during which Max underwent several tests. Two days later they sat in Dr. Kokolani's office.
Steve clutched Max's hand to keep the smaller man from fidgeting. He felt anxious too, dreading more bad news. Where the heck was she? He glanced to the man next to him, noting the visible weight loss and the near palpable apprehension rolling from him. He gave Max's hand a squeeze with silent reassurance.
The door opened and the doctor entered, greeting them warmly. She dropped down into her chair, regarding them solemnly. "Well Mister McGarrett, the chemotherapy has eradicated the cancer." She paused to allow them to digest the news.
A rush of jubilance flooded Steve and a wide smile split his face. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Max—who looked like he was ten seconds from leaping from his chair to dance like a fool. "So what now?"
Dr. Kokolani explained that Max would need to continue therapy to make sure the cancer was terminated and he didn't relapse. That night they celebrated with their entire ohana—task force and all.
In all, Max took chemotherapy for a year. After finishing therapy he paid frequent visits to the hospital to check for a relapse. But Steve didn't care about the frequent visits to the clinic or the daily precautions they had to take because the treatment's affect on Max' body. He cared about Max regaining his healthy color, about his vigor returning, about his hair growing back, and about his love affair with the piano resuming full force. Eventually the doctor's appointments stopped.
Steve roused to the feel of Max stroking his belly. He gave a smile to his mate who had that 'look' in his eyes that switched off Steve's higher mental faculties. He let out a gasp when a hand squeezed his crotch. "Good morning to you too."
Max smiled a greeting before leaning down for a kiss. "Thirty minutes still remain before the children awaken."
"Really?" He flipped them, looking down at his beloved. He ran a hand through Max's silky hair—still black like a raven's feathers—before grinding down into his hips. "You gonna be this frisky in Greece?" Yeah, after such an ordeal Steve decided it would be nice to take a vacation when their accounts recovered and the opportunity came. The country was a prime choice for them because it provided both the physical aspects that he would enjoy and the intellectual stimulation Max craved for himself and the children. They were going scuba diving off the coast of Antiparos and then visit the Acropolis in Athens. Truth be told he was really anticipating the trip.
Max's eyes glinted with desire before he palmed Steve's ass—wondering how it was so perfect—before running fingertips over his love's graying hair. "Only if you promise to fuck me like your life depended on it."
Steve groaned, body giving a full shudder. "God baby." He dove down for a smoldering kiss.
Their mornings as usual progressed at breakneck speed. Soon, they rode down the highway both children, now 10 and eight in tow. Ben and Sachi bickered as usual, switching between English and Cantonese at random bursts. "Alright, enough you two. Jesus why can't you two just get along?"
"Because Sachi is a crybaby."
"And you're a goober!" She shot back shrill voice hitting that pitch that made Steve fear his ears may start to bleed.
"Hey, no name-calling," Max scolded the duo, turning around in his seat to shoot both of them a glare.
"Now apologize to each other."
"She started it!"
"No I didn't!"
Steve clenched his teeth. It was way too early for this stuff. "What did I say?" He rumbled authoritatively.
Both children cringed and muttered their apologies.
They deposited their children at school before hurrying off to work. After a harrowing day the two lay on the hammock outside their home, relaxing.
Steve petted Max when he nestled closer, enjoying the gentle sway of the hammock. "Just think baby in three days we'll be in Greece."
"Mmm."
He wrapped an arm around Max's waist. He'd been so afraid that he would never get to hold his love again. Now, he merely took the time to fill his senses with all that was Max. The two would have fallen asleep in the shades of the palm trees had Ben and Sachi not decided to engage in mischief.
The two landed on the hammock at full force, causing its cords to snap.
Steve grunted when his back met the unforgiving grassy ground.
Max rose and started chasing the two troublemakers.
Steve lounged on the ruined hammock and watched with glad eyes as Max pursued their children in circles. Their cheerful laughter created resplendent light in his heart. At one time, in that dark period, he'd thought his happy family would be shattered. But, Max conquered the disease brightening their world with brilliant joy.
He chuckled when Max fell to the verdant lawn, laughing merrily, and joined the romp. Soon, though all four lay on the ground panting and tired. The adults remained on the ground while the youthful duo rose and resumed their frolicking.
Steve sat upright and drew Max close, observing the exuberant play of their children. He telegraphed his unending love for Max through his aquamarine gaze and pressed a tender kiss to cherry lips. Yes they had resiliently endured a bleak period of adversity and though they had not emerged unscathed, their family remained whole.
FIN
AN: Whew that took a lot out of me. Writing this drew up memories of my uncle when he suffered from cancer. I hope though that you all enjoy this piece and it invokes emotion within you. If you do enjoy it don't hesitate to drop me a line.
Ciao ^-*