Author's Note: Well, I finally watched the episode where we lost Toast. As per their usual, the cast and crew did an absolutely phenomenal job of telling the story. I thought the decision to let Steve and Lou hear what was happening over the phone and not being able to do anything about it was a brilliant choice. The only thing I didn't like about this episode, and not just because I am a huge Scott Caan fan, is that Danny wasn't in it. Given that Toast was made a CI at Danny's behest and was, in all likely hood, felt closer to Danny than any of the other Five-O team members, the story didn't feel finished. Were I a producer/writer on the show, this is not an episode that Scott would have missed. So, here is my attempt at a bit of closure for both Steve and Danny.

Disclaimer: Hawaii Five-O, as well as the characters found within the series, are owned by CBS Productions, K/O Paper Products, and 101st Street Productions. No profit is being made off this work.

Hawaii Five-O

Ordinarily, Danny would still be in bed at this hour, wrapped up in his blankets snug as a bug and dreaming of the Mets winning the Pennant, or the Jets actually winning a game. Or maybe if Melissa were there with him, he'd be enjoying one of the benefits of having a relationship. But Danny wasn't in bed and Melissa wasn't with him. Truth be told, they'd been rather distant as of late. She still came over, still slept in his bed, still made chocolate chip pancakes in the morning with him, but something had shifted in the last couple of months. Danny had noticed, but he wasn't especially worked up about it. She was kind, beautiful, sophisticated, funny, sweet, and God knew she'd been more understanding of the hijinks Danny had been involved with through Five-O than any woman ought to be. Yes, she was all of those things, but …

He shrugged off that train of thought and chose instead to focus on the sunrise over the Pacific. He only had one cup of coffee in his system at the moment, and so he was only able to admit to himself, and not Steve, that the horizon really was a spectacular view to behold at "Do-You-Know-What-Fucking-Time-It-Is-Steven?!" o'clock. And the truth of the matter was that he didn't really mind that he was standing on the sand of the beaches down from the tourist hub that was Waikiki, waiting for Kawika to arrive with an outrigger canoe that Danny and Steve would be using to make a very important journey.

Danny hadn't put down Toast's urn since he'd gotten into the Camaro after picking Steve up that morning. It sat with him now, nestled safely and snuggly in his arms while he waited patiently as his thoughts shifted once again to a few days ago, when he was still in New Jersey for his cousin's confirmation, when he'd stepped away from the family celebrations to listen to the voicemail that Steve had left him, telling him Toast had been brutally murdered. It wasn't until Danny had arrived back home that he'd gotten the full story from Steve – that his partner had listened as Toast was being beaten and killed, and as guilty as Danny felt for being off island at the time, he knew Steve felt ten times worse. Danny knew his partner would be re-playing that exchange for a long time yet; chalk another one up for the nightmares.

"Hey."

Danny glanced over his shoulder to see Steve walking towards him. "Kawika's here. He's gonna bring the canoe down in a bit." Steve rested his hands on his hips, the sleeveless tank he wore showing off the well-earned ink he'd collected over the years. "You ready to do this?"

"Yea. Yea, I'm ready," Danny nodded, and he turned away from the ocean slightly to see Steve better. "Wishing I didn't have to do it." He didn't miss the look of guilt that crossed Steve's face. "Don't do that," he muttered, "stop doing that, you hear me? Okay? There was nothing you could have done, Steve; nothing." Danny leaned in towards Steve. "What happened isn't your fault; okay?" He waited until he received a firm nod from his friend, and by that time, he saw Kawika pulling a canoe behind him as he made his way toward them. Danny greeted him with half a smile – this wasn't exactly a happy occasion after all.

"At least the waters are calm for you to travel out," Kawika stopped and dropped the canoe into the soft sand and rolled his shoulders a bit. He looked at Danny. "Steve told me what happened; I'm sorry about your friend, Williams."

"Thanks," Danny nodded, glancing at the canoe warily and then at Steve, "you sure you know how to steer that thing?"

"Easier than riding a bike," Steve grinned back at him and stepped forward, choosing not to respond to Danny's "you don't ride bikes" response as he clasped Kawika's hand. "Where do you want us to leave it when we get back?"

"Just drop it by Kamekona's. I'll pick it up from him later today." Kawika gave Steve one last weary look. "You're sure you don't want me to come along? Steer the ama? Say the prayers?"

"Nah, thanks Kawika, but um," Steve motioned towards Danny, "I think this is something we need to do ourselves, our own way, you know?"

"Alright," the other man nodded and stepped forward, reaching up to clasp his hand on the back of Steve's neck, the SEAL reciprocating the movement, and both men leaning their heads forward until their noses and foreheads touched. They idled like that for a few moments before pulling away, Kawika sending them both off with his well wishes before leaving. Steve tugged the canoe closer to the water and situated it just so before looking at Danny.

"You ready?"

The detective nodded quietly and stepped forward, sand filling his sandals which would have normally made him gripe, but Danny just didn't care at the moment. He tucked the urn carefully into the outrigger and then stood off to the side as Steve pushed the little boat from behind right into the water. Once Steve hopped in, Danny was next, and they both grabbed a paddle and began rowing out toward the open water.

Kawika had been right; the water was calm and easily cut through by the oars – one skillfully wielded by Steve, the other admirably used by Danny; at least Danny thought it was admirable. An outrigger normally only had one person steering with a paddle, but like they did with everything, Steve and Danny were in perfect sync in no time and were easily steering the canoe as one. Steve, to lighten the mood and because he simply couldn't help himself, poked a bit of fun at Danny's paddling skills.

"Hey, this is my first time using one of these things on this boat, okay? We do not all come equipped with automatic know how of all things pertaining to sea vessels!"

"A sea vessel," Steve couldn't help but snort as he brought up the rear of the navigation with his oar. "It's a canoe, Danny, hardly a vessel."

"You say potato."

Soon, they were floating a few hundred yards out, the waters still and tranquil around them. The men pulled their paddles into the canoe and sat quietly for a long while, admiring the scene around them.

"Surprised you haven't mentioned sharks or man sushi yet," Steve teased softly.

"Yea, well," Danny shrugged off the comment. Now that he was here, he really didn't want to start the process of 'burying' Toast. He'd never done goodbyes well, and this one was weighing heavy on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve reach down and pick up a large cream and pink shell. Danny recognized it as one of the shells Kamekona would use occasionally to blow haunting melodies into the air, the most memorable of which being as he, Steve, and a mixture of other mourners had paddled out on their surfboards five years ago to send of Chin's wife, Malia, with a proper Hawaiian service.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Kawika," Steve held it up, looking at it before putting it to his lips carefully. "I'm not nearly as skilled with it as Kamekona, but I can blow a tune here and there." He regarded Danny quietly. "You want me to?"

It was such a heavy question, and it really shouldn't have been, but in the end Danny nodded his head. This little outing was as much for Steve to exercise his guilt as it was for Danny to exercise his in being 5,000 miles away when Toast had been murdered. It was silly, he knew it, ridiculous for either him or Steve to be holding themselves accountable for something that absolutely could not have been prevented, but if blowing the horn made Steve feel a little better, who the Hell was Danny to deny him that?

So, Danny shifted carefully in the canoe and turned himself around to face Steve, who reached down and produced the urn for him to take in one hand, clutching the shell to his chest in the other.

"Alright, buddy," Danny murmured quietly, twisting the sealed top off and setting it down on his seat reverently beside him, "here we go." He was glad that Steve simply began playing the shell. It was soothing this time, actually; not haunting or depressing as it had been with Malia. Whether it was because this was for Toast specifically or whether it was because it was Steve playing it, Steve sitting here beside him, helping him say goodbye, Danny didn't know.

At the moment, he didn't particularly care.

Steve and Danny made it a habit of sharing everything with each other – everything, to the point where it would be considered 'overshare' by most others – but this time, each one said their goodbyes quietly, to Toast only. Steve went first, bowing his head over the urn carefully so as not to breath in any of the ashes (he'd seen that happen before – disturbing didn't begin to cover it), and paid his respects, begged Toast's forgiveness. Even though Steve knew deep down that Danny was right, he still felt the need to ask, to own the fact that once again, he hadn't been able to help a friend in time to save his life. That would never sit well with Steve; never.

After a few minutes, he cleared his throat and handed the urn over to Danny, who placed the vase on his lap between his legs and clutched the top half tightly with his hands. To anyone else, it would appear Danny was merely staring at the object, but Steve knew that Danny was running through his own litany of apologies, for however at fault Steve felt regarding his inability in the moment to perform any act that would have saved Toast, Steve knew that Danny was reaching back years, almost a decade, and to every interaction he'd had with the CI since then, torturing himself with the knowledge that he'd put Toast on the informant path, and wondering how differently things would have turned out had Danny simply left the kid to his own devices.

It was pointless for them both, really, and yet, cathartic in a way. Eventually, each would come up with the answer that, no, nothing they did contributed to Toasts death, and nothing could have been done on their end to prevent it. It was so easy to say that to each other, to bring the other comfort; it was much harder to say it to themselves and believe it.

But that was them, Steve thought, watching Danny come out of his trance. Steve would take on any amount of pain or blame to spare Danny, and Danny would readily do the same. It was just the way things were, how they'd always been.

"Alright," Danny cleared his throat, nodding to himself. "You got the thing?"

Steve put the shell down and picked up a lei of flowers appropriate for final goodbyes. "Yea. Ready when you are."

"Alright, Toast, here we go. One with the fishes now. I know you'd probably prefer the air – try to catch some stray herb or something, but I'd rather people not breath you in; probably get a contact high or something."

Steve laughed, shaking his head.

A few moments later and it was all over. Toast's ashes were floating in the ocean, a lei surrounded the grey substance as it degraded into the water, and Steve and Danny both sat quietly, watching until the only thing left was the string of flowers, slowly but surely floating away from them.

"Hey, what was that thing you did with Kawika before he left?"

Steve's brow furrowed. "What thing?"

"The uh, that head thing," Danny spoke without looking at him. "I've seen you do it a few times. I always mean to ask but I forget most of the time, so…" He raised his eyebrows inquisitively, now looking at his partner. "What is it?"

"It's called a Honi. It's a traditional greeting that started in Polynesian culture. When they came to Hawaii, they brought it with them."

"You can't just shake hands? Clap each other on the back?"

Steve shook his head, chuckling again. "We could, but the Honi is a very spiritual way of connecting with someone. It's giving and receiving the breath of life between two people." Steve looked at his friend, a grin tugging at his lips. "They do that in Jersey, but with cigarettes I think – not exactly the 'breath of life' though."

"Very funny," Danny muttered, but he took the ribbing good naturedly as he looked up and around. By now, the sun had lifted from the horizon and the pinks, oranges, and purples which had swarmed and splotched the sky had evened out into a beautiful clear blue canvas, the sun's rays reflecting off of the Pacific back at Danny's own colt blue eyes.

"You talk to Melissa at all? She know about Toast?"

"Uh, no." It was Danny's turn to look pensively confused. "I haven't talked to her, and no, she doesn't know about Toast."

The pregnant silence between them heralded Danny's coming inquisition.

"You two okay?"

And Danny thought why hide it?

"We're… okay, yea, but… you know, we're okay."

"…And that's not okay?"

God bless Steve. "I dunno, Steve, it's… You know there used to be a time where Melissa and I, we talked regularly, like talked a lot. We'd stay over at each other's places, take a few trips to Maui, things like that, but for the last couple of months, it's just been…" Danny shrugged. "We're growing apart." It felt good to say it aloud to someone finally.

"Sorry to hear that, man."

"Yea, well, it happens, you know? What can you do. She's put up with a lot anyways – a building coming down on our heads, her ex-husband trying and nearly succeeding in gutting me, the plane crash a few years ago and the liver transplant," Danny ran his hands through his hair. "That's a lot for anyone to take on. It's a lot for anyone to ask someone else to take on. I get it."

Steve just nodded quietly in agreement. "So, what are you going to do?"

"What am I going to do? For right now, I'm not going to think about it, because I am out here in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with a half-crazed SEAL and somewhere, there is a family of sharks just waiting for a tasty meal of Jersey Take Out, babe, so if you don't mind, I'm going to make sure my head is here, and not there."

Translation: Let's talk about something else.

Steve got the message loud and clear. "So, you've never done a Honi?"

"A what-ey?"

"A Honi," Steve gestured between the two of them, "the thing with the foreheads and noses pressing together you were just asking about?"

"Oh, yea, right. Uh, no. No, I have never done a Honi."

"C'mere."

"Why?"

Steve inched forward a bit more on his seat so that his knees were almost touching Danny's. "Because it's a really soothing, spiritual thing that two friends do. It'll calm you down, make you feel at peace."

"I'm – make me feel at peace, out here? With you?" Danny almost laughed his telltale 'this shit is crazy' laugh. "Babe, no offense, but every time I'm in the water with you something bad happens, okay? Either we get our boat stolen, or we find sharks, or we're crashing planes into the water, or we're chasing fake tsunamis – it's no good, Steve, you understand?"

"Fake tsunamis are a good thing, Danno."

"You know what I mean, Steven."

"Scoot your ass forward and come here."

Danny rolled his eyes and grumbled some more, but he did as Steve bade, swinging himself fully forward and shifting closer to the edge of his seat until Steve nodded his head in satisfaction. "Alright, it's real simple Danny. Just lean towards me, tip your head like so, and I'll do the rest."

"…I thought this was done as a greeting."

"It is."

"Steve, we've been sitting in the canoe for about an hour now. The time for greetings has passed, wouldn't you say?"

"Will you just come here and let me teach you something? Huh?" Steve had his 'Just Do It' face on, and so Danny followed his partner's instructions and tipped his head forward, not surprised when he felt the firm warmth of Steve's forehead pressed up against his own. Then Danny's button nose touched Steve's more pointed one, and finally, as he'd done with Kawika, Steve's hand gently grasped the back of Danny's neck.

"Breathe out," Steve murmured, "then breathe in."

Danny did so, following Steve's lead, and found it to be oddly relaxing after a few moments. He shifted is seating position just slightly and stretched his bad knee out, knowing that it had been bent at an angle in the canoe for far too long. For the moment, it was just them, in the middle of the ocean, water gently lapping against the canoe with the sun shining down on them. There was no Five-O, no state politics, no cases on the docket of their minds. Toast's death was pushed to the back burner along with Chin and Kono's departure. Worries about training the new rookie were far away. It was just Danny and Steve, the way it was supposed to be.

Danny wrinkled his forehead at that. Steve felt it and pulled back slightly.

"You okay?"

Danny didn't – couldn't – answer for a few seconds, could only dart his tongue in between his lips as realization began to coil its way through his mind.

"Yea, I'm okay," he finally responded, nodding.

"You wanna go back? We can grab some malasadas."

Awareness was a funny thing, self-awareness even more so, and now that comprehension was beginning to take root, Danny found the choice of words 'you wanna go back' to be rather interesting. It was like a light bulb had turned on somewhere in the darkest den of denial Danny's brain had. It was no wonder he'd felt so disconnected from Melissa; how could he expect himself to be in lock step with her when the one person he'd been connected to in every way for the better part of a decade was sitting right across from him in this boat? Of course, he and Melissa were growing apart, of course they were, for the same reason that Steve and Catherine had never been able to seal the deal and for the same reason that Steve was keeping things painfully casual with Lynn, because at the end of the day, it had always been Steve and Danny making each other the priority, no matter what their significant others or anyone else had thought about it.

Did Danny want to go back? He didn't think he could if he tried, because this right here, him and Steve, this was how it was supposed to be. No Catherine or Melissa or Lynn or Gabby or anyone else – just them.

"Danny?" Steve's voice broke through the running monologue in his head.

The blonde shook himself. "Yea, sorry – what?"

"You want to head back to land?"

"Uh…no," Danny could see the surprise on Steve's face. "No, not yet. Let's just stay like this for a while. That okay?"

For a second, he thought Steve might go over board from shock at hearing Danny Williams actually requesting to stay in the middle of the ocean in nothing but a canoe rather than head back to the safety of the shore, but it was only a moment before that goofy, happy-crazed smile broke out on his face.

"Yea, Danno. That's okay."

"Kay. Good," Danny clapped his hands together once and rubbed them. "So. A Honi, is what that's called?"

"Yup, a greeting and a sacred way to breath life between two people." Steve grinned at him. Danny smiled back.

"I believe it."