Author: Mirrordance
Beta Reader: Werewolf Girl 22
Title: A Good Place
Summary: No matter how complex his life became, he never worried about his personal strength and endurance. This body was forged by and tested sea, air and land. He never thought for a second, this would betray him too. Steve finds out he is gravely ill.
Warnings: Spoilers into Season 2.
A Good Place
He sometimes wondered how he managed to live away from here for so long.
He folded bare toes on the smooth, flour-like sand, the tiny particles slipping in between the digits, as in an embrace, and he immediately felt all that much closer to the land. He breathed in the cool, breeze of the early evening, tasted the salt in the air, and stared ahead at the purple, post-sunset sky on the horizon, right where it kissed the line that separated it from the sea water. The tiny waves that licked against his own borrowed piece of this immortal paradise - the small beach behind his father's house - had mellowed and been broken earlier on their journey here, making sounds that lapped instead of crashed, a constant whisper in his ear.
It was impossible to live here and not be immersed in it, all senses engaged, all at once. You smelled and heard and tasted and felt what you saw, and the converse, and all other permutations in between. It was his home, or maybe she owned him; the line between was as blurred as the horizon, when it got dark enough that you couldn't tell where the water ended and the skies began.
He let out a long breath, and let himself think - experimentally, for the first time since the news was officially broken to him hours ago - that it was a good place to die.
Dying was not an alien concept to him.
It had taken away his mother gloriously, and in so doing, had stamped itself early into his psyche and with finality. He'd been surrounded by it in his profession, left and right and ahead and behind, where men fell and felled others, where he'd dealt death as much as it has been thrown at him. It had taken away his father. It had taken or tried to take away acquaintances and friends, the strangers he encountered at work. It more than once had tried to take him.
But through it all, he dusted himself off and got back up. As long as he breathed, he had an obligation to get back on his feet and move forward. For his country, for the work he had committed himself to, for justice, for revenge when he was blind-unseeing in anger, for his family and friends when they needed him... he got back up.
And he always could, because there was one thing, just one thing in the entire world he never thought he'd have to worry about, the one thing he could rely on no matter how hairy things got in his life. His personal strength and endurance, his body - he was almost always the strongest man in the room. He was the fastest, the hardiest. It allowed him to be fearless, and to be relentless. This thing that had been forged by and tested land, air and sea, through training, torture...
He never thought, not for one second, this would betray him too.
Betrayal always caught him off guard. But then again, that was probably the concept.
What was more unquestionably unnerving about it was that he had a feeling he was getting more than his fair share. Nick Taylor, a friend of long-standing who had fought beside him in a war shores away, had turned his crosshairs on him. The Governor, who'd kept him close, who'd started his crusade here, and who had once said to his bitterest enemy over his unmoving body - We have to get rid of him... her last words. Chin Ho Kelly's handcuffs on his wrists that night, back when he didn't understand his friend's position, cold as ice. And then there was Jenna Kaye and all her teary regrets, all for nothing.
Maybe it was karmic, but then again he'd never betrayed anybody.
As a matter of fact, he didn't even lie much, and a couple of weeks ago had been the first one in a long time.
"Woah, woah," his partner halted him in his steps, on his way out the door a full hour before the end of a quiet workday, "Steve. Where you headed?"
"Annual physical," he replied distractedly. He was running late as it was.
"Wasn't that two weeks ago, babe?" asked Danny, forehead creasing, "You know, you can just tell us if you're playing hooky. No harm, no foul. Would make me feel better about ducking out early once in awhile. Or I dunno, the moment you step out of here we can have a little party, break out the booze, call in the dancing women-"
"Danny," he cut off the tirade, otherwise he was going to be here 'til the sun rose tomorrow, "I gotta go."
"I mean, you're all right, right?" Which was the express version of what he'd apparently been trying to say.
"Yeah," he assured his partner, "Yeah, Mom, I'm good. There's just some things they didn't get to finish. 'Cos all your talking got me late the last time too."
"No need to be snippy," Danny said, waving him away. "Go, go."
He shook his head at the shorter man but grinned at him as he went, tossing a carefree wave at Chin, Kono and Lori as he left the room. But inside his stomach was wound up tight, had been since the navy doctor, who had performed his physical exam two weeks prior, called him earlier in the day, asking him to come back, saying they'd found 'Something.'
Some things didn't surprise him anymore.
Like Danny Williams, breaking into his house with a six-pack.
"Thought you were from Jersey," Steve said, leaning back in his lounge chair and not even bothering to look behind him at who owned the sand-softened footfalls.
"What's that even mean?" countered the other man, commandeering the seat beside Steve's.
"I'm pretty sure you lock doors over there," Steve shrugged, "And uninvited people breaking in just get shot."
"I have an invitation," Danny replied, raising and wiggling the six-pack at Steve.
"Hm," Steve conceded, smiling a little. He nodded toward the dimming horizon, "Bet you don't get that where you're from."
"We have an extensive shore line," Danny said indignantly.
"Don't say Atlantic City," Steve warned.
"I was gonna say Stone Harbor, Bay Head. Sandy Hook." Danny replied, "Just to name a few. You are a snob, Steven, that is what you are, you know that? I'll have you know, there's this place back home, and when the sun sets it's like the clouds and the water are split up by firmaments, clean lines just splitting orange, purple and blue. It's practically biblical."
"Firmaments?" Steve repeated, skeptically.
"Yes, firmaments, you oaf," Danny confirmed, "Firmaments."
"Can't be like this," Steve insisted, pointing at the horizon.
"We even got one of the largest clothing-optional beaches in the United States," Danny bragged.
"I thought you hated beaches?" Steve countered, "What's with the defense?"
"Most of those who go there are old," Danny admitted after a beat, shuddering in some remembrance Steve did not want to hear about.
Steve chuckled, nodded at the six-pack Danny was nursing, "Hand me one of those, will you?"
"Um, that depends," Danny hesitated. His clear eyes narrowed in estimation of the situation.
"On what?" Steve asked, even when he knew the answer, even when neither of them wanted to hear it.
"On what that doctor said that made you so jumpy," Danny responded, sipping his beer, keeping his eyes on the sunset.
Steve cocked an eyebrow at him.
Like he said, some things didn't surprise him anymore, like Danny Williams figuring stuff out on his own.
"Yeah, jerk, I know about it," Danny said, "Sort of. So you might as well just say whatever it was. I'm a freaking detective, right?"
"And absolutely nothing gets past you," Steve said gravely, mocking.
"That," Danny conceded, "and the fact that for all the noise you say I make, your face screams more than my mouth ever will. I got you figured out. It's always all over your face, when something's going on. Aneurysm face, constipation face, et cetera."
Steve thought about it for a second, and had to agree that for all his words, and words over words over sounds and sentences, Danny was, in hindsight, probably less transparent than him. Of course there was the basic stuff that was out there - love for Grace, love and hate for the immortal Rachel, dedication to his job, concern, alarm... but many things he kept in too. Almost like the noise was just a decoy, masking everything below the surface. There were many things going on in that sandy blond head. It thought about New Jersey and his family, the brother he lost, the friends he made here, even had room for the partner he may or may not want to strangle on occasion.
"You got a name for this face I'm wearing now?" Steve asked him, smirking. He can do decoy too. He was trained for it, anyways.
"I'm still thinking about that," Danny said warily.
"Metastatic melanoma face wouldn't cut it, right?" Steve asked, just braving things and spitting it out, "Probably not as catchy as Cancer face."
Danny sucked in a long breath, letting things sink in.
"No man," he said finally, voice thin, "Not as catchy."
Steve nodded, looked out to the sea, "Can I get a beer now?"
Danny blinked at him, "I mean, is that okay?"
"What do you mean is that okay?"
"Can you? Get a beer, I mean?"
"What do you mean can I get a beer?" Steve snapped, inexplicably angry.
"I mean is it okay," Danny elaborated carefully, "For someone who has what you have, to-"
"I know what it means, Danny, for Godsakes," Steve groaned, "Ugh, this is exactly the type of thing I was steering away from when it crossed my mind to just keep this to myself. Yes. Yes, all right? Someone who has what I have can get a beer."
"You could have just said that," Danny huffed, giving in to the request and handing a can to Steve.
It made Steve bark out a laugh, surprising them both.
"You're actually right," Steve conceded, "I could have just said that."
Danny sucked in another long breath, as Steve took a gulp off of the can. It was a good temp for beer, just slightly shy of sub-zero.
"I don't have a family history of cancer," Steve said quietly after a long moment. "I barely have a family history of anything. No one lives long enough to..." he let the thought drift off. It was better out there, far away from him.
"So what happens next?" Danny asked.
Steve shook his head dismissively, he didn't want to talk about that, not right now.
"Do you ah..." Danny paused, "Do you hurt? Anywhere?"
"No," Steve replied. "Nowhere. I mean, I get tired and sore sometimes, but I thought that's just the job."
"Maybe they got the tests wrong," Danny commented meekly because he knew this idea had probably already been exhausted.
"Not the first three times," Steve said with a wince, "and not that one time after that, just because I didn't like how the other three tests came out." He laughed humorlessly, "If I go get one more today, and if that one test out of the five shows a negative and says everyone else is wrong, it will win, I know it. I'll believe that more than anything else."
"Well you feel fine," Danny declared stoutly. "So they caught it early."
"Yeah," Steve agreed. What was another lie today? Cancer was making his lies metastatic too, spreading them around, making them grow...
"Your face-" Danny began, because he knew what it meant. They just had this conversation, didn't they?
"Danny-"
"You said metastatic," Danny remembered, "Right? You said that. Where? Where else is it?"
Steve just shook his head, ran a hand over his face wearily.
"You think I can get away with a medical leave?" Steve asked – again a decoy - "And not have to be discharged yet?"
"This is like pulling teeth," Danny muttered.
"Why do people say that?"
"Because for the normal human being," Danny ranted, hands waving around nonsensically, "in the midst of a tooth extraction, you don't just get in there and yank until it just comes off. Puller gets at an angle, clamps, yanks, usually has to go brace and yank again, 'til that rotted thing comes off, and it's as gnarly for the puller as it is for the pullee. Gnarly. Some nasty shit there. And I gotta warn you, babe, I'm bracing again and I ain't leaving 'til it's off."
Steve nodded in understanding, looked out to the horizon again. Would it be lighter, if two men carried the load? Or is the pain exponential, and he'd just be spreading it around?
"Is there any way we can just not talk about this?" Steve asked.
"Has it ever worked before, Steven?" Danny asked back, and it sounded familiar, like a lingering memory.
'Is there any way that I can talk you out of this?'
'Has it ever worked before, Danny?'
'No.'
'Okay, so... let's go, yeah?'
"There's a tumor lodged in my head," Steve said, "That's where else it went."
Danny took a long swig off of his beer. He grimaced, looked away, "So that'll probably be a discharge then."
"That's what I thought," Steve said, appreciating the attempt at levity, no matter the poor outcome.
"Mary knows?"
"No one else knows," Steve replied.
Danny nodded, appreciating what that meant, for what the two of them had as friends.
"So you came in for a physical a couple weeks back," Danny began. "How'd they find it?"
"Mole by my back looked wrong or something," Steve admitted. "They biopsied that, then asked me back in when it came out positive to do a scan and see if I had it anywhere else. I came in today to hear the results - found out it's also in my head."
"They've discussed your treatment options?"
"It sounded like a strategic op," Steve said with a small smile. "You know, right down to odds for survival, expected losses. Doc's been hanging around the special forces a little too long, I think."
"How are the odds?"
"I've lived through missions with worse," Steve said, smile widening a little. "The Navy SEAL training attrition rates alone, Danno..."
"Yeah, yeah," Danny said, not at all sounding relieved. "You don't even have to go into the classified stuff. They never said humility was your strong suit."
"It wasn't part of the curriculum."
"Otherwise you'd have excelled?" Danny snorted, "Case in point."
They fell to a companionable silence for a long moment, before Danny declared, "Those odds don't sound good to me, McGarrett. I know those kinds of jobs you've been on."
Steve shrugged. He didn't like those odds either.
"So what happens now?"
"The cancerous... stuff... all get extracted," Steve said. "Like you would a high value hostage in hostile territory."
"And then what?"
"And then they're doing a pre-emptive attack to make sure nothing gets that bad again," Steve finished. "I think the preferred course of action is chemical warfare."
"Chemotherapy following surgery," Danny translated. "Only you, McGarrett; only you can put it in those terms."
"I told you," Steve pointed out. "It was that wacky doctor."
"I'm fairly certain he was only conforming to the target market," Danny dismissed.
They both looked out toward the water. The evening was settling in heavily.
"You said something earlier," Danny remembered. "You said you were just gonna keep all this to yourself."
"I would never endanger you or the team," Steve clarified, vehemently. "Or risk the work that we do here. I was going to resign, and then-"
"And then just vanish off, right?" Danny snapped, angrily. "I don't care about the job, Einstein. It sickens me, just sickens me, the thought of you handling this all on your own, without back-up."
"Back-up? So now we're on cop-speak?"
"Yeah, we're in cop-speak," Danny retorted, not missing a beat. "If that's too complex for you, I can translate: you were gonna handle this on your own, go MIA. AWOL. Is that better?"
"Much," Steve sneered back, a little too darkly, even for his own liking. But Danny getting angry at him for this was making him angry too, "It's my problem, Danny."
"And we've had this talk before," Williams insisted. "We're partners-"
"Put yourself in my shoes for one second, all right?" Steve argued, raising his voice. "This isn't about work, and this isn't gonna be easy. I'm gonna be sick as a dog, Danny... and that's the scenario where I win, 'cos it means I survived. But I'm not an idiot and I know I'll need someone to help me out. But I don't have anyone, all right? And you're gonna get stuck thinking it has to be you. But you can't help me, Danny, 'cos you don't have the time for that, no one does. And I know more than anyone you got your own problems. And it isn't gonna be Chin, or Kono, or my sister or Lori or Joe either." He trailed off with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He took a breath and softly continued, "What good is it that everyone knows, and no one can do anything, and everyone just feels bad and sorry for me and guilty for themselves about it? It's just like I'm spreading this sickness around. I've said too much," he waved vaguely at the conversation they were having, "as it is."
Danny shook his head in dismay, "For a smart guy, sometimes you're just walking around like no one's at home."
Steve scoffed at him.
"That's why you've got a big ohana, Steven," Danny said, more gently now. "We take turns. We help each other. And maybe Lori can even bust out a hot nurse costume, which would make everything suck way less. And you forgot about Kamekona… who I hope does not have a hot nurse costume on him."
Steve's face softened, and he shook his head, ran his hands over his face. His voice was thin, when he managed to utter his next words, "I've played with the idea of not doing anything about it. I feel fine, you know? Strong. I feel exactly like I felt before the doctors ever found anything..."
Danny looked like veins were going to pop out on his face, "You're kidding, right? I mean, you're saying this thinking we are gonna bust a gut laughing about this in the next few-"
Steve cut off the rant, "But I feel fine right now. The moment they start treating me I'm gonna be sick and miserable, and then from there I'm gonna be sick and miserable 'til I'm dead. Or sick 'til I win, god knows how long from now. I can't afford that. I've got things to do. I'm not done here." He shook his head and repeated, "I've got things to do."
"But you'll have a better chance of winning if you deal with it now," Danny argued. "We are not having this conversation, Steve. And if we are you aren't gonna win, so you might as well drop it."
"But I always win."
"Not this one," Danny said boldly. "I'm gonna take your ass to court, talk about your impaired judgment. 'Judge, I think it's the tumor, messing around that cherry bomb, also known as McGarrett'sbrain.' If he doesn't buy that, I'll bust out all your crazy Five-0 stunts and tell him, 'Judge, it's degenerative, and it's started oh, when we took a car into a moving cargo ship. Or that time we bombed out a private small businessman's door to get in. Or that time he jumped off of a plane to save someone from falling from the skies.'"
"That last one actually sounds crazier said aloud like that."
"Point is," Danny said with finality, "I got you outgunned in this department, soldier. So stand down. Let the grown-ups make the big decisions."
"You haven't grown up," Steve said, making a show of looking up and down the length of his partner's height.
"Now that's just low."
"I know, isn't it?"
Danny narrowed his eyes at the other man in mock irritation.
"But I get what you're saying," Steve conceded quietly.
"Good," commented Danny, "So, you're gonna get treated here? They got everything you need out here? They got the best?"
Steve worked his lower lip, thoughtfully. "Yeah. Besides... if things don't work out..."
"Don't-"
"It's a good place to die," Steve finished.
"No," Danny corrected him abruptly, shaking his head. "No. We're gonna win this, Steven. This," he waved expansively at Hawaii as if he owned it, and it was a gift, "This is a good place to live."
Steve stared at him for a long moment, all burning blue eyes, big words, loud voice, effusive movement. He felt his own eyes glint in determination and hope, and with it, the rise of good humor.
"Tricked you into saying it."
Danny stared at him for a long second, before catching on, "I meant for you! It's a good place foryou!"
THE END
December 10, 2011
Author's Afterword:
Timeline Within the Series, Medical Information,
Characterizations, and Acknowledgements
For those interested, the following section details quick story notes on the method behind the madness, and tackles some things people may wonder about in the story:
Timeline Within the Series.
Essentially, the timeline is non-specific. Random mentions of Jenna, Joe and Lori situates the story thickly into Season 2, but in my head I always figure that otherwise, the exchange could even be taking place in Season 1. I don't consider the timeline of paramount importance, as it is more than anything, just a lengthy conversation between friends.
Medical Information.
For the tv-heads, haha, ofcourse the sickness is borrowed from Grey'sAnatomy, haha. So yes, the extent of my medical knowledge is nothing but an extension of what is already an extension of truth featured in a different series, for convenience. I also don't think this is too important, given that the crux of the story is in the dialogue and the friendship.
Characterizations.
I struggled with these. I've been working on those irresistibly complex Winchester brothers in Supernatural for so long that I wasn't sure which tack to take here, if the 'voices' were right, if the reactions were representative. Anyway, in sum, these are the perceptions that shaped the story:
Steve McGarrett was portrayed as someone who was used to being the strong one, now faced with a life-altering situation that he doesn't know what to do with. This is in the summary/fic teaser, as well as in its extended version within the fic: he was a very physically strong person who didn't doubt that in most situations, it was his training and endurance and skill that would get him through. When I watch the show, he has such confidence in himself and what he can do, always knowing he'll be the strongest, fastest, most skilled person in the room. I think this sense of self is what allows him to be bold. This belief in himself is shaken to the core in the story. Aside from how he looks at himself, he also realizes that his sickness will make him need people, which also doesn't sit well with him.
Danny Williams is more vocal, so on the outset it's like he's more volatile, but that is almost never the case in the larger sense, as we fans of the show know. I wrote this fic shortly after the season one ender, and was particularly inspired by this scene when Danny was talking Steve down, trying to make him calmer after their one witness against Wo Fat was killed. Steve looked like he was going to explode, and Danny was just steady as a rock, and I guess I wanted that placating version of him to be represented here.
Their Friendship is just TV gold in my opinion. It's humorous and masculine but also inescapably warm. I hope this came through in the fic.
My First Fic in This Fandom.
This is my first fic in this fandom and I hope it managed to resonate with the passionate folks over here who love the show and look to fanfiction to widen that world. I have mostly been writing about Supernatural, but the temperature started dropping here toward winter, haha, so I went all escapist and started watching HawaiiFive-0 and I just love it now :) I may or may not write more (in this fandom or in others)- RL naturally trumps everything else - but I guess for now, I'm just happy I got this done and posted, and I sincerely hope I was fair to the characters and the fic is something people enjoyed.
I was very uncertain about many things concerning the story, and Iwould like to thank my beta Werewolf Girl 22, for being a prompt and all-around awesome reader and a fresh pair of borrowed eyes :)
Thanks also to all who will send in their constructive comments and criticism, and all who just read and gave mes ome of their time :) I wrote this in about two days, and sometimes that's good, haha, but other times not so much. I hope it came out well.
Anyway, this is starting to be really long, haha. Bottom-line? I hope the story was representative and fair, and that you at least had fun reading it. Your c&c's are always welcome. Thanks for your time!