Anger: A strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility. [Oxford Dictionary]
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Today
"Welcome to reality," Danny repeated and once again rubbed over the bridge of his nose. "At that time, I thought Rick exaggerated. I was barely 22," he laughed humorlessly. "Of course I thought I would know better."
"Mhm." Steve had slowly moved into Danny's office and had sat down on the offered seat while his partner was talking. He was about to nudge him to continue when his phone rang, and Steve frowned at the offending device, definitely not happy about the interruption. "I am — I'm sorry, I have to take it." He sighed when he recognized the number and answered the call, noticing at the same time how Danny's face closed up again, before he concentrated on the person on the other end of the line. It was the Governor, demanding information about Adam. She had heard some rumors and wanted clarification on that at once.
"I'm sorry, Danny," Steve repeated after ending the call and imagining for a second how good it would feel to just throw the phone out of the window. "But I have to talk her out of her suspicions. I can't have her nose around Adam's case, not when we are finally making progress." He got to his feet and headed for the door, only to stop there. "Why don't you come over to my place later, huh? We haven't done that in a while now, just the two of us, a couple of beers and some steaks? And you tell me the rest of what had happened then."
Danny sucked his upper lip in and thought about that for a second, then shook his head. "Ah well, it's not really an evening-filling story to tell. I put Ray behind bars, Brooke got her divorce and moved away, and that's it."
Steve let out a bitter, angry half-laugh. "Oh, no, you won't just go mute on me now. I deserve the whole story, don't you think so? I had to put my finger inside you to keep you from dying! Don't try to palm me off with 'it was nothing'!" He trembled, his whole body was shaking lightly with the emotions coursing through him. Steve clenched his eyes shut, desperately trying to regain his composure.
Warm, calloused fingers grabbed his own, suddenly cold feeling hand and steadied it, carefully caressing his finger tips. Steve slowly opened his eyes, staring directly into those of Danny. "Hey. Hey, okay. Huh? It's just — I'm not particularly proud of what happened then, okay? It's all coming back to me now. But if — if this means so much to you, I will tell you the whole story." The way Danny emphasized the word "whole" made Steve wonder how many versions of this story existed, and why Danny seemed to feel uncomfortable to talk about it at all.
"Yes, it means so much to me, Danny. You almost died. I almost lost you." He pulled Danny into a brief but fierce hug, before turning around and heading for his own office. He grabbed the keys to the Silverado, never really taking his eyes off Danny, who retook his place behind the desk and just sat there for long minutes. Steve pressed his lips into a thin line. His phone rang, yanking him out of his thoughts. "Yes, I am on my way. Please tell the Governor I'll be with her in a few minutes!"
Danny pushed the empty plate away from the edge of the table and leaned back, both hands rubbing over his full stomach, and moaned indecently. "Man, I swear, they must play Mozart all the time to these cows and rub their ears or something. That was the best steak I've had in years!"
Steve, nodded, feeling just as satisfied as Danny. "They really treat their livestock very respectful. Of course this comes with a higher price, but I am willing to pay it if I know the beasts didn't have to suffer and had a normal life before they turned into my next meal. There's still some mashed potatoes left, though." He pushed the bowl toward Danny, but the other man declined.
"If I eat another bite, I swear, Steve, I'm going to explode," Danny laughed softly and turned his chair away from the table on the lanai toward the ocean where the sun was just about to dip into the blue surface of the calm water. He stretched like a lazy cat, his t-shirt riding up a little bit to expose a small patch of tanned, golden furred skin.
Steve chuckled, too, and shrugged. "Just don't want you to spread the word that at McGarrett's you get up hungry from the table."
Danny looked at Steve, his face suddenly pensive. But before Steve could ask what had crossed his friend's mind, Danny beat him to it. "You know, that doesn't sound so bad as a motto for the restaurant. Nobody leaves hungry. Just ask for a refill!"
"You mean Steve's, huh?" Steve's eyes crinkled at the corners as he spoke the words that he knew would rile Danny up. And for sure, it worked every time. As it did now.
"No, Steven, we won't call the restaurant after you, am I clear? It is an Italian restaurant, ergo it needs an Italian name, something like "La Grotta" or "Al Camino" or "Napoli"." Danny glowered at Steve. "And I know exactly what you, my friend, are doing here. You feed me, you get me my favorite brand of beer, it's nice and warm and cozy, and a light breeze is coming from the ocean. You're seducing me." Obviously pleased with his detective skills, Danny turned to watch the sunset again.
Steve had to process that for a moment, not taking his eyes away from his friend. Then: "Does it work?"
Danny stared at Steve. "Does it — does it work, he asks! Well, depends on what your intentions are, Smooth Dog McGarrett!" He crossed his arms, a smug smile on his face.
"They are absolutely honorable." Steve raised his hands in a disarming gesture. When he put them back to lie relaxed on his thighs, his face became serious. "But there is still something that I want from you, and you know exactly what that is. Ray Gardner. What did you do to piss him off so much that he felt the need to shoot you after what, 20 years?"
"19 years," Danny corrected automatically. He grabbed the bottle of beer and lifted it to his lips, then put it back onto the table without drinking from it. "It's— it's a bit complicated, I think. Well, or not... no, actually it isn't. It was a string of choices that were not the right ones, but seemed like the right ones at that time." He scratched his head and sighed. "I have to go into detail for that, though, to make you understand why I acted how I acted. And Eric's involved, too, but if you tell him one word that you know about this, I will have to kill you and dispose your body where no one will ever find it. And I am capable of that! Italian blood runs through my veins."
"Eric?" Steve frowned. "Did that guy threaten Eric?" He made some quick mental calculations. "He was a teenager then, right? Was the guy one of his teachers?"
Danny shook his head, suddenly feeling tired and worn. He hadn't thought about what had happened for such a long time, but talking about it now brought it all back. All the helplessness, the frustration, the anger. "Just let me explain, okay? I know Eric thinks that it's because of me that he came back on the right track. But in a way he did the same for me, so I don't feel like he owes me anything. Eric was 14 then, and most of the time everywhere else but in school." He snorted. "Was quite a brat, that boy. Gave Stella more sleepless nights than the four of us did to my mom together. No, Ray Gardner was not Eric's teacher. They never met, actually. Eric was — I was on the beat with Rick when we got that call from the dispatcher."
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19 years ago
Danny was driving the car. Of course he did, because, as Rick had said smugly: "All the rookies need to learn how to drive. You have to get used to the official roads and shortcuts in town. Besides, it's a privilege to drive your training officer. In exchange, he shares his knowledge and wisdom with you, after all!" On the other hand, that meant that Rick was the one who paid for their coffee or snacks. This was not common, Danny had learned some time ago, but obviously Rick knew how broke Danny was after he moved out of his parents' house. He liked the older man, he really did. Rick never treated him patronizingly or like his body servant as he had heard happened to other rookies. He was fair and patient, and Danny had even begun to eat dinner at least once per week at the Petersons', afterward playing some computer games with Rick's son Cole, who already adored Danny.
It had been a pretty busy day so far for Danny and Rick, a little argument between neighbors here, a little fight between teenagers there, whom they escorted to school after mediating, and finally a classic: a cat in a tree. Danny had almost fallen off the tree when he had at last been able to grab the cat, because of course he had been the one to climb the tree. "You're so much younger, and you don't have that bummed knee". That damn fleabag had punched all of her claws into his arm when he was about to get back down to solid ground. Rick's laughter still rang in his ears, and Danny was still pouting when the dispatcher called them.
"Car 3963, there's a shoplifter reported at 400 Bergen Avenue. Please take over."
When they arrived, the owner was already in the parking lot in front of his shop, clutching the collar of a smaller person and occasionally shaking the boy in time with the flood of words he spit out. Danny and Rick climbed out of the car, and the old, scrawny man with eyebrows as thick as beams pulled the kid toward the officers. "Oh, finally you are here, I called ages ago! Here, take him and throw him into prison, he stole from me and then lied about it when I caught him red-handed." He shook the boy with every word, and Danny was sure he could hear the kid's teeth rattle.
"First of all, sir, please let him go. He won't run, right, son?" Rick held out a placating hand and looked sternly at the boy who only now lifted his head to look at Rick.
Danny drew in a surprised breath. He knew the kid all too well. It was Eric, his oldest sister Stella's child. Rick noticed his reaction and shot him an inquiring look. When Danny stared at him, Rick grabbed his arm and pulled him a few steps away from the owner and the thief. "What's up, D.? You know that kid?"
"Yes, he's my nephew, he's my sister's son, Eric." Danny felt his heart sink. It would kill Stella to see that her son was about to head down the same wrong and dangerous road as his father had done.
"Okay. Okay, look, this is what we do. Let me do the talking, you just do what I tell you, okay?" Rick had put a hand on Danny's shoulder and smiled a half smile at him. Danny nodded, following Rick numbly back to the shop owner and Eric. "So, Mr., uh, Singh?" Rick had read the sign on the shop where the name was written, and put both hands on his hips. Over the course of a mere second, he had shifted from Danny's fatherly friend to professional cop. Danny caught himself admiring that ability. He really needed to learn how to do that. "What did the kid take?" Danny noticed that Rick didn't say "steal", but Mr. Singh was obviously oblivious to that little detail.
The man started to rant, both hands flailing. "He took two cans of soda, and gum, and oh, the new issue of the Playboy, before he bolted for the door when he saw that I noticed that he put the things into his jacket!"
Rick pondered over this for a moment, then turned to Eric, hands still on his hips, ignoring the boy's hateful and stubborn gaze to his feet. "So, you had two sodas, gum, a magazine. Quite a lot to carry around with only two hands, huh?"
Danny frowned, mirroring Eric's look when the boy finally looked up and directly at Rick who now smiled at him conspiratorially.
"Huh?" Eric uttered, but before he could add anything, or insult Rick, the man continued. "There are twinkies on the shelf next to the exit, right? You were about to grab some of them, too, and then head for the register, is that correct?"
Again, Danny's expression was the same as Eric's. Eric's eyes darted from Rick to Mr. Singh to Danny and back to Rick. "Uh, yes?" He answered, rather posing it as a question than a real response.
"Good boy." Rick winked at Eric and turned back to Mr. Singh who was now the one who frowned, not sure what had just happened. "So, Mr. Singh, I think you misjudged the situation. Is it possible that you exaggerated a tiny little bit? Because the boy here," he put an amicable hand on Eric's shoulder, "was about to come to you and pay."
Mr. Singh visibly deflated, now definitely insecure. "But, but I saw…" he started again, but when Rick slightly shook his head, the friendly smile still on his face, the older man sighed defeated. "Well, yes, this is possible, of course."
"Very well." Rick made a gesture at Eric. "Go in and pay now, boy. Then we'll bring you back home."
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Today
Steve stared at Danny, his mind unable to grasp what his friend had just told him. "Wow. But Eric did want to steal that stuff, right?"
Danny nodded, not looking up at Steve. His fingers were fiddling with the label on the beer bottle. "Yeah, of course he wanted to. But not because he had no money, on the contrary: he did have money, he paid for the stuff, but he thought it was fun to just grab the things and bolt. He really was a little asshole back then! And if I'd known what Rick had been up to that day, I would've stopped him. We brought Eric home that day. Because Stella was at work I had to postpone the talk I wanted to have with her about Eric. I was angry at Rick, ashamed, and, I swear, Steve, I felt like a kid who had taken the last cookie and didn't want to confess, as if everyone could see only by looking at my face what we had done. Police arbitrariness is what people call it these days, but of course it existed then, too. And I never wanted to be a part of that! I was full of ideals, wanted nothing but to help and bring justice, and then we did this? I was so fucking angry, but Rick just laughed at me. 'That's how the wind blows on the streets' and 'you want to destroy your own nephew's future because he made a silly mistake? Give him a second chance!'
"I told Rick I didn't want to be part of his power games, that I wanted to be a good police officer. Well, he tore me a new one for that. Began to list all the people he had helped in the ten years he walked the beat already and how many lives he had saved! He said that sometimes, you have to bend the law a little bit for the right results. This shot across the bow would be the pivotal point to get Eric back on the right track, he said. The next day, I was assigned to Pete Evans, because Rick had hurt his bad knee again and was out for a week or two. I was glad he was away, that I was away from him, because I felt played by him. And I was still so angry."
Steve nodded sympathetically. "What about the talk with Stella? And was it a pivotal point for Eric?"
Danny ruefully shook his head, placing the bottle back on the table, the label completely gone. "The talk was, uh, it was terrible. Stella was shocked about what Eric had done — or had been about to do, and in the end, we both screamed at each other. I blamed her of spoiling Eric on the one hand and neglecting him on the other. I said some really tough things to her that I still feel guilty about until today, although she has forgiven me a long time ago." Danny sighed. "And Eric took Rick's shot across the bow as a free pass, and got sucked into a gang."
