Shallow Grave of Secret Longing

Chapter 2

Here's another. Still not much Steve but not to worry. The queen of procrastination finally acquired a new laptop and can no longer claim 'the cat ate my homework', (no self-respecting cat would do such a thing though I did have one eat a paycheck once), so will be able to update at least twice a week.

Thank you so very much for the reviews, alerts and favorites! Wasn't sure how well this story would be received considering there is no furry piranha in it.

Disclaimer: If CBS ever wants rid of them, they can come and live with me. The animals won't mind sharing. Husband might have a problem with it but there are other husbands. Since I make no money from this obsession, it might actually be best to hang on to the one I have for the moment. I sadly remind you that only the mistakes are mine.

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No Admittance

"Danny?" asked the voice, tentatively, timidly.

"Steve?" It didn't sound like Steve. Steve always sounded so sure, so confident. How could this be his partner, a man who could make bad guys wet their pants with a glare or just a low growl. This didn't sound like that man at all.

"Steve! Are you okay? What's going on? What have you done this time?"

The tall man closed his eyes as the rapid words poured over him like hot buttered rum. It didn't matter what they were or even the speed at which they were spoken. Right now, the actual words didn't matter at all. It was Danny's voice: warm, real. At least he hoped it was real; it was sometimes hard to tell these days. The SEAL concentrated on the sound of it, mentally latching on as though it was a verbal life-preserver thrown into the ocean of confusion and doubt in which he flailed.

"Steve? Babe you still there?"

"I can't believe it's you." breathed the SEAL, clutching the phone so tightly he was in danger of crushing the plastic.

"It's me." replied the voice that carried more than a hint of concern. Steve's uncharacteristically enthusiastic greeting had thrown him off. It was odd; so unlike the cool, controlled man, he'd known for nearly three years. The only time Danny ever heard his partner so rattled was when Wo-Fat's name had come up. At Steve's end of the connection there was silence.

"Steven?"

"Danny, can you come and get me? Please?"

"Of course" answered the detective worried and mystified by the nearly childlike sound of the request. Steve sounded unsure if his best friend and partner of three years would actually come after him. Something was wrong, so very, very wrong.

"Where are you?"

"Quantico. The umm . . . Naval facility at Quantico. Please come and get me. They won't let me go home by myself . . . I don't know why . . . Danny, please."

Steve was sounding more distressed as the call wore on. What the hell? thought the detective.

"Steven, calm down. Of course I'll come get you. Let me go home and pack and I'll be on the next plane out. Don't worry, it's okay, I'll be there."

"Danny . . ." there was a longer pause this time. The detective would have thought he'd lost the connection but he could hear rapid breathing on the other end ". . . Danny, I'm scared."

...

Physically, the flight was pleasant enough. The plane wasn't as packed as they'd usually been on his infrequent travels. The one that went from Newark to Honolulu almost three years ago had been jammed with snowbirds fleeing the nearly arctic weather for sunnier climes.

He grimaced as a screech that could shatter glass reverberated through the cabin. Though he loved children, the hyperactive kids and the squalling infants had made him start to fantasize about parachutes – not necessarily for himself.

The chime that preceded the standard announcement to fold and lock their trays and etcetera sounded and a couple of minutes later the pilot announced the temperature at their destination as a crisp forty-eight degrees at 2:18 P.M. Eastern Standard Time.

The information gave his stomach an extra little twist. He knew whatever awaited him when they landed was going to be difficult. He didn't know exactly what to expect but he couldn't ignore the request. Steve needed him and he needed to be there for the man who'd become like a brother to him in all ways but DNA.

He exited the jet-way and strode across the carpeted waiting area and out the gate to the down-escalator. It efficiently conveyed him to the floor that held the auto rental counter. Having brought only a carry-on, there was no need to go to baggage claim. He carried the bulky overcoat folded over his arm, glad he still had it though it hadn't been worn since that visit to his parents last year at Christmas. The heavy cloth smelled of cedar from the trunk in which it had been stored. Shrugging on the woolen garment as soon as he exited the sliding door, he quickly spotted the shuttle that would take him to the lot where his rental car waited.

He wondered how Steve was coping with the cool weather. His partner was a tough, adaptable guy but cold weather wasn't his thing. Danny thought there wasn't enough insulation on the man's lean body to keep him warm. Maybe that's why Steve didn't like it, and every time he came back from deployment; he looked thinner than when he'd left. Sometimes there were new scars too. He'd only get a vague answer, if any, about those but he'd have to ask him about the insulation thing. It had always been the blonde's theory that a couple of extra pounds is a good reserve for leaner, more stressful times. At least that's what he'd learned by watching Animal Planet.

Danny kept his own body in impressive shape but he didn't have the runner's build of his partner. He also didn't have those unsettling tattoos. He knew that most of the women who'd had the pleasure of viewing Steve without his shirt thought they were hot but Danny didn't think getting something he thought sinister looking permanently inked onto his body was something to aspire to . . . admiring females or not.

...

Quantico was huge and confusing. He finally found the office he sought. Before seeing Steve, he had to speak with Caldwell. It seemed the best thing to do. He hoped Steve wouldn't mind.

Knocking at the door, a deep voice bade him enter and he pushed it open. Seated behind the desk was a middle-aged man with coffee colored skin and short dense hair that looked as though it had been frosted by snowfall.

"Uhh, I'm Danny Williams" he announced himself, not quite knowing why his voice sounded so uncertain about his own identity. "I'm here for Commander McGarrett."

"Ah! You're right on time Mister, or should I address you as 'Detective' Williams?" Without waiting for an answer he continued, "I'm sure Steve will be happy to see you. He seems very anxious to get out of here." smiled Caldwell.

"How's he doing?" asked Danny, anxious enough that he didn't even hear Caldwell's question about how to address him.

Caldwell gestured to the metal chair in front of his desk. The no-nonsense desk was nearly bare except for what he assumed was Steve's file. Danny quickly seated himself and leaned forward in the uncomfortable chair.

"The commander is OK, considering what he's been through. I'd like to keep him here longer but I think he'd just 'go over the wall' if we didn't let him go home." laughed the man whose teeth were even and white below a salt and pepper mustache.

"Yeah, that sounds like him." Danny smiled in return but without any real mirth.

"I understand you two are close?" asked Caldwell.

"Like brothers." answered Danny sincerely. "Steve is my best friend and I'd do anything for him - as I know he would for me."

"That's good Danny . . . if I may call you Danny?" politely asked Caldwell, figuring that it would get to that point of familiarity anyway - considering the job ahead of them.

"Yeah sure, I've been called lots worse." he smiled back nervously, still not knowing why he felt so anxious.

"Your loyalty is admirable." said the tall dark man. Danny hadn't realized how tall Caldwell was until he stood up from behind his desk. He was probably about the same height as Steve but with several more pounds on his frame.

They walked out of the small office together and down the long, stark hallway. Danny felt his airline lunch begin to roil in his stomach. He took a deep, calming, breath and concentrated on centering himself as they walked what seemed like miles on the industrial grade linoleum tile.

The self-calming technique was actually something Steve had taught him months ago during Danny's 'issues' with Rachel about visitation rights when he'd wanted to punch a wall or maybe even get his hands around his ex's lovely, swan-like, neck. It had all worked out but things between them had remained tense for quite a while. They had other 'issues' to work out these days but it was a long story and one he couldn't dwell on at the moment.

They came to a stop at the large sliding doors that blocked the broad hallway. The ones marked 'Psychiatric Wing – No Admittance Without Permission'.

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Would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter if you're of a mind to share them. Next chapter will be up within four days or so and Steve will be very much present.