A/N: Notes and disclaimer at the beginning of Chapter 1

Chapter 4: Hide My Head, I Wanna Drown My Sorrow

He was lying on the sofa in Kono's office staring at the framed poster of the Pipeline she had hanging behind her desk when the buzzing started. Reaching blindly down, his hand skimmed around the floor in front of the couch before his fingers caught up his cell.

*yes*

Steve guessed that meant that Chin was giving Danny a ride, which implied that his partners' injuries were not as bad as he originally thought. He wouldn't have to spend the night at the hospital. Good, one task force member in a hospital bed was one too many. He dropped the phone back to the floor a dull thud. He would need to get up soon and find some composure or else he was sure to hear about it. Danny was always giving him grief about his expressions, but Steve saw them mainly as smiling, serious, or his SEAL face (the one Danny called his 'aneurism face'). Yeah, he really should get up to escape a full blown Danny-rant, he vacillated at the thought though.

He had come in and had completed all the paperwork he had to do in roughly fifteen minutes. He had dropped his case folder, complete with freshly printed forms on Danny's desk for his approval (something Danny insisted upon right around the second week they were partners.) He had thought about cleaning up the mess on his desk, but he was still fighting the warped pen version of last Saturday. Realizing that he hadn't visited Kono since last night caused Steve to deepen the crease between his brows. He had failed her yet again. He had promised her to visit every day. Fuck. He had come to her office because it had seemed as a sanctuary at the time.

Steve knew he could be working something, a cold case or signing off on the requisition forms that have lain in their folder on his desk for weeks now. Of course, they were probably covered with ink, he speculated crossly. It would make Danny happy, but his body felt leaden here on Kono's sofa. Besides, he thought flatly, not only had he finished up the proper forms for today's raid and left them, signed, on Danny's desk, but he had tidied up some of his personal paperwork that he started this morning. Besides his back and shoulder throbbed, he had probably tweaked something while he grappled with one of drugged out degenerates this morning. He let his eyes wander around the office.

The dust motes danced in the rapidly fading late afternoon sun easing in through the window, causing them to sparkle and shift around the crashing waves in the poster, bringing the water to life. They were mesmerizing, like seeing the heat waves off the sand in Afghanistan or the slipstreams of the anacondas gliding through the jungle grasses he had witnessed when he and his team had served a short stint in the Amazon basin. Neither instance held his fascination as the ocean did though. He missed the water when he was away from Hawaii. The feel of the salt drying on his skin, the smell of the sea life meeting the tropical air making it something at once stale and lush, indescribable but home to Steve.

Closing his eyes, Steve felt that he could almost hear the roar of the water, engulfing him, trying to pull him to the depths. He flexed his forearms where they lay, crossing his chest and his shoulder twitched back in return. His body ached worse than his first wipeout at the Pipeline. He felt again as if he were battling from the darkness of the saltwater dungeon, trying to force his way to the glimmering light above. At least then there had been a light to guide him. A point of reference to aim for. Safety could be had in the light.

The first time he was conscience of the ocean, outside of the just being an overly large bathtub to wade in, he had been around four and his dad had taken him out in the skiff. It seemed that the water went on forever. Steve attempted a lopsided grin at the memory. In the shallows his dad had pointed out the various denizens of the clear blue waters, streaking beneath the vessel. They had watched surfers across the cove riding what he would now call tourist waves. But then he was fascinated with the idea of riding a board. When they had nearly reached the breakers, his dad had lifted him over the edge of the boat. He remembered clinging to his dad's arms, terrified that he was going to be lost in all the water.

Steve reached a hand up to rub at eyes watering from the pain of the memory. His dad had a big smile and kept reassuring his son that he would be okay and to trust him. Steve sighed at the recollection of matching his dad's grin with shrieks of glee when he found himself on a sandbar built up from the tides. He felt then as if he were invincible. But his joy was cut short as he had jumped too far and stepped off into the abyss. But he again had the sunlight then to guide him, as well as his dad's strong hands. What did he have now? Who could or would save him from his foolish impulses? Ghosts were all that were left and they were as impotent as he felt.

Rubbing his eyes again before training them back on the poster made ominous by the dim light, Steve thought of the glass-encased model in his office. A ship filled with spirits and built by a ghost. His grandfather had made it when he was younger. Before he had fallen in love with Steve's grandmother and Steve' dad was born, before he had joined the Navy, before Pearl Harbor. It had become a family heirloom the day his grandfather had died, just three months shy of seeing his only son born.

When the Governor had volunteered to have decorators in to do up the offices for 5-0, Steve remembered how he was reluctant to do so. His team did not need pampering, but she had insisted. Well, if the powers that be declared that his office must be decorated, then he was going to have a say. It seemed only fitting to go with a Naval-slash-seagoing theme. And he knew which piece he would contribute. The model belonged in a museum, but at the time he knew he couldn't give up a piece of his grandfather or subsequently his father to be gawked at. There was so little left.

It was that first night back, the first night he had he spent in his father's house since he was sixteen, that he had found the model. It had survived the terror that Hesse had rained down on the house, by being stowed away in Steve's bedroom closet, covered with an old quilt and a stack of old surf magazines. He had no idea how long it had been there only that it wasn't there when he left Hawaii for the mainland. It surely didn't deserve to hidden as if someone was ashamed to have it identified with his family, it should be proudly displayed showing off the legacy of the McGarrett family.

That ship represented so much. The dedication and time that it must have taken to create. The naval history of America as well as that of his family Steve wondered if his grandfather's dad congratulated him on his accomplishment, pride evident in the twinkle of an eye. A clap on the shoulder to say 'well done, son.' Steve shuddered in the shame he felt at the jealousy he had for a man he never met, his own grandfather. I really am of the lowest form of the depraved, he chided himself. The ship really was beautiful and his grandfather a hero. He was being petty, he knew, but he was helpless stop the feelings that coursed through him.

He knew he should get up and go to his own office, but Steve didn't really think that Kono would mind that he was in here. He didn't realize how soft her couch was or with only one window as compared to his several, how dark it was. It was as if he had backed himself into a underwater grotto. Peering into the common room, the only lights that glowed were the tiny power lights of the electronics and the subdued red of the 'exit' signs above the main doors.

The ship.

Did the ship captains of yore feel as helpless and lost as he did, he wondered erratically, and if so what did they do? Did they seek solace in a bottle as he had started doing every night? Did they take out their frustrations on their crew, with floggings and extra duties? Expect too much from those that depended on them?

Perhaps they sought council in their visits to port and in the arms of a caring woman, something Steve hadn't done in quite some time. Not since he had really gotten to know his own team better. Not since he had brushed off Catherine one too many times. Not since a certain mainland detective had unknowingly high-jacked all of his partners resting hours in addition to the waking ones. He pondered on this for a while, letting his memories of happier times wash over him.

It had started with mistrust, guns, anger, and violence, but their partnership had survived. Sure there were missteps and differences of opinions, kind of like a new marriage after the initial honeymoon stage, Steve mused. If pressed, he would have to say that it had all changed after Meka, Danny's former partner, had been murdered. Steve had become mesmerized by the compassion that seeped into Danny's eyes, when he dealt with Meka's widow and the fiery belief that Meka was not bent. The days that followed the funeral, they had both seemed to seek out ways to connect with one another. Talks of childhood and family led to discussions over beers about youthful hi-jinxs and past loves.

Something had happened though, Steve couldn't put his finger on it, but something had changed. Danny had drawn away ever so subtly and when Steve had tried to nonchalantly push to find out he withdrew further hiding behind their work. It was then that Danny's insults and jibes had started to take on their obsidian-like quality, flaying his soul as quickly as a fisherman sliced open a bonito fish. Steve had decided then that a tactical retreat was called for. He wished now that he would have been able to dredge the truth from his partner, but he was spineless.

Stretching in his prone state, Steve catalogued in his mind the many overtures he had made clean the air between Danny and himself, and Chin . . . and Kono. He felt as if they had expected him to be of a near-messiah. He was a SEAL and SEAL's do not fail. There is no room for poor planning nor indecisive leaders. He drew up the deepest breath that he could and held it. It wasn't until his lungs burned and the pain from his shoulder started to radiate down his arm, that he let it out.

He wished it would cleanse him and absolve him of the exhaustion and condemnation that had taken up residence in his soul, but the time seemed like it was too far gone for that. Steve heard the elevator ding out in the corridor guessing that it was the remaining members of his team was returning from Queens'. He held his breath again for the minute it took someone to open the door to the main office.

"No, no. Everyone is okay. Yeah. What's that?" With each word echoed a footstep on the concrete floor. Danny. "Steve?" he chuckled lightly, "Well, Steve was – "

He heard Danny open his office door and then his voice was muted to a distant rumble of high and low inflections, but no distinct words behind his mostly closed door. Steve cocked his head for another set of footsteps, another door opening or closing, but there were none. Chin was normally a stealthy man, but he would have fired up the computer station in the great room if he was here. Unintentionally heaving a second more dejected sigh, Steve slowly sat up and peered over the back of the sofa out at the other offices.

They all remained dark, barring Danny's and the computer remained silent. Chin must have gone home or back to the hospital or somewhere he wasn't, Steve speculated. He did find it surprising that Danny hadn't turned on more light, seeing how the office was nearly all encompassed in darkness. Or that he didn't barge into Steve's and start demanding to know why he, Steve hadn't been to the hospital. But he sat at his desk in his office, with his back to the slightly open door, staring out the open window blinds as he continued his phone conversation.

Steve was . . .what? Steve considered what Danny had said as he entered his office. Steve was . . . stupid? Steve was . . .impulsive? Steve was . . . a flaming asshole that was willing to sacrifice his team? Yeah, that's the one. In Steve's mind he could already feel himself shutting down in anticipation of the rant that his partner would bestow on him as soon as he was off the phone.

"Sure, Monkey, we can do that if you want, but wha-" ah, it was his beautiful daughter on the phone then. Danny had exited his office again and was walking towards the mini kitchen down the hall. Probably in search of some cholesterol laden treat or coffee with enough sugar that Steve grimaced at the thought of the imagined dental bill.

Grace.

Just thinking the name caused an unexpected pain to spring up under Steve's ribs as he returned to a prone position. She is a wonderful kid; beautiful, smart and full of boundless energy. Hell, even being around Grace, made Steve want to be better himself, weird he knew, but what could he do? How could an 8 year-old influence a 35 year-old? He would ponder this, he has pondered this, but always came to the same confusing conclusion. She may be the sun in Danny's world, lighting the man up brighter than the sun after a thunderstorm. But with Steve, she was more like the moon, a radiant entity that sought to chase away the darkness.

She just had that kind of effect on him. But Steve had seen the turmoil in her eyes whenever he was around her and Danny was on the phone to Rachel. Steve wondered if her parents knew what their bickering wasdoing to her or even if they knew she understood. For all they protected her from everything harmful out in the world, did they know what they, themselves were doing to her? Not intentionally, mind you, but they weren't always careful with their words.

Steve would watch the little girls face and when it would start to cloud up he would try to think of some funny folly from his youth; such as he had thought that he could build a slide from his bedroom window to the ocean or when he thought that it would be a great idea to trade his sister to the neighbors for their Jack Russell Terrier. Neither of which really panned out for young Steve. Those stories, while they would brighten Gracie's face always seemed to remind Steve of what he would never have again. Steve realized then that it had been weeks since he had seen the little girl and just how much that thought hurt.

It made Steve thankful the he had never had the chance to become a father. Sure, a kid would be interesting, fun and if judging by his partner's life, rewarding. Steve knew he could do it if he had ever been in relationship stable enough to produce a child and at one time he would have welcomed the experience. A son, he would have wanted a son, to teach him to surf, to spearfish, to camp and hike. And maybe, just maybe his son would want to grow up and become a Naval man like his dad or a detective like his grandfather . . . No.

No. Having a child meant disappointing them and Steve didn't think that he could stand to disappoint one more person in his life. Besides, it wasn't like he could ever take them to Sunday dinner at grandma and grandpa's; he reasoned bitterly to himself, yes, it was ideal how his life had turned out after all.

Pulling himself wearily up, Steve felt the many twinges and jabs that radiated through his muscles. He was getting too old for this shit. With a soft grunt he stood, bracing a hand against one of the guest chairs that sat in front of Kono's desk. He felt drained; this case had sucked it right from him, making him hobble like an old man as he quietly made his way to his own office.

A glance into Danny's confirmed that the blonde had return from his fridge foraging and he was still talking to his daughter on the phone. Snippets of exclamations and soft laughter edged out the crack of the open door. Steve saw a glaring white bandage wrapped around the arm that was undulating as if it was a surfboard on a short wave as it gestured along with Danny's cadence. It was just another chance for his partner to doubt him and to blame him. Two occurrences Steve would willingly accept. Because they were true.

From the doorway, Steve peered at his desk in the dark. He could barely make out a few of the items that caught the soft glowing light from Danny's office. The pen fragments, the glaringly white envelopes propped against the lamp base, the keys to the Marquis and the Camaro and as well as his office keys. The light also reflected off the glass-encasement around his grandfather's ship. He really should donate it to a museum. It was a beautiful model and shouldn't be stuck in his worthless office. Snagging a pad of sticky notes, he jotted a reminder and gently stuck it to the glass case. Steve nodded to himself as if reaffirming the notion, grasping a few items before he started for the door to the main office.

If Danny wanted to talk to him, he knows where to find me; Steve rationalized as he slowly pushed open the door and started for the stairs.

~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~5*0~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

He had stopped at the Camaro after Chin had dropped him off to grab his gym bag from the trunk. After talking to Steve, he had designs on cleaning up in the gym showers before heading home. It was a blessing to have the gym in the basement, not only could they all get in regular workouts, but the showers had some of the best water pressure he had ever experienced this side of The Patriot Motor-Inn, outside of Baltimore. He had simple needs by this point in time; food, shower, and an enormous cup of coffee. If he had those three, he would feel complete enough to have what he knew was going to be an uncomfortable talk with McGarrett. He just didn't know what was going on with the man. But he was going to find out. Tonight.

Danny was waiting for the elevator car to descend from the upper floor when he heard the song "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" coming from his pocket. As much as he held Stan in complete disregard, he was happy in an odd way that he deemed a nine-year-old responsible enough to have her own phone. If only so he didn't flinch every time his phone rang, thinking it was Rachel.

"Hey Monkey, how did today go? Did you have fun?" Danny felt his spirits lift as his little girl, his sweet little girl started in on the wonders of the Polynesian culture that she had discovered on her class fieldtrip to the Bishop Museum. She was describing the 'humungous' feathered cape that the King wore, 'made of the prettiest yellow and red feathers' when the elevator reached the ground floor and the doors slid open to a blessedly empty car. He got in, pushed his button and made several jabs at the 'close door' button. He wanted to be alone with his daughters' cheery voice surrounding him.

"Oh, Danno, you should have seen the shells, they were even prettier than the feathers and there was one just like the broken one I found on Uncle Steve's beach. Only that crab must have been as big as Auntie Nessa's dog. It just had to be. It was gianormous, Danno." Danny kind of lost his response at what Grace was saying. He was remembering his own comparison between that very shell and his partner. He had to stop the doors from reclosing in front of him. He hadn't even noticed them opening upon the car stopping at the floor that housed the 5-0 headquarters.

"Danno?" Grace started, her voice softening in question.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Are you okay, Daddy?"

"Yeah, Gracie, your Danno's okay." Danny felt bad for even mentally wandering away from any minute he had with his daughter.

"Did catch some bad guys today?" she asked, changing tracks mid-conversation as only a child could do. "Did you catch the mean men that hurt Kono? Did Uncle Steve beat them up?"

"No, no. Everyone is okay. Yeah. What's that?" Danny took in the darkened state of the office with a furrowed brow, where was Steve? His truck was parked next to the Camaro so he should have been up here. He peeked in the closed glass door of Steve's office. Empty. He heard his little one repeat her question. "Steve?" he chuckled lightly, "Well, Steve was a one man butt-kicking machine, monkey. He jumped higher than a kangaroo and made those bad guys so scared that they said sorry and turned themselves right in." Danny hated lying to Grace, but she really didn't need to know the particulars. He knew he would weep the day that she understood just how evil others could be. "So did you guys go to the planetarium?" And she was off.

Entering his own office, Danny flicked on the light, chasing away the shadows from the three lamps attached to the circuit. He usually thought that it was a waste of electricity, but today, he sighed wearily, today he wanted to wrap himself in the knowledge that here was nothing lurking in the darkness. Danny sat for a moment and stared out the partially open blinds as the last of the sunlight from this hellish day faded away. He listened to Gracie explain how her grandpa Williams and she were looking at different stars every night. He glanced back towards his partner's office, but it was still as dark as ink. He grabbed the three coffee cups from his desk, each holding various stages of the murky liquid, but all quite cold and started to wander to the team kitchen.

"Sure, Monkey, we can do that if you want, but what do you want to do in the evening?" She had changed the topic again, this time to what they were going to do on their next weekend. Danny flipped on the light in the kitchen with his elbow of his uninjured arm. "A movie sounds good, but can we maybe not see the one with that Beiber kid? How about the one about the lizard?" But he knew that he would take his daughter to whatever film she wanted to see. She had that kind of control over him.

"Well, Gracie, Danno has to go but remember that Danno loves you." He said as he set the coffee maker to brew and reached for the refrigerator handle to see if he could find something to tide him over.

"I love you too, Danno."

"But Danno loves you more. Bye, Monkey. I'll talk to you tomorrow." And with a blown kiss across the line, she was gone. Danny couldn't believe his good fortune. How was it possible that he had lucked out and got the most wonderful kid alive? Now if his luck would hold out in the food department . . . Damn. There were some condiments and various sauce packets, a half-eaten box of take-out fried rice, a pizza box and a tinfoil wrapped mystery. Pulling out the pizza box he grimaced at the contents, two curling pieces with shriveled pineapple and three pizza bones. No, just no. There was no way.

His phone rang again as it started to vibrate its way across the counter from where he had laid it. A felt a small grin start to form, hearing the ringtone. Kono.

"Hey, how's the Hawaii's version of the Tasmanian Devil? Roundhouse any of the doctors yet?" Danny had been to see her a few times earlier in the week, but she had been too drugged up or sleeping to actually follow the conversations going on around her. If she was calling him, he deduced, then she must be feeling better.

"Hey, brah. Nah, I'm saving my energy to kick the crap outta you." Danny could hear the smile in her voice as she delivered her cheerful, yet empty threat. "So, Chin just called. Said you got the bastards. Said you got a little present from them as well. You okay?"

"Yeah. Must be tougher than you." He playfully taunted her right back. "Only had to get a few stitches. Think they were cowering in fear."

"That wasn't them cowering in fear, Danny. They were doubled up in laughter at the sight of a Jersey-jivin' ghost trussed up in a tie."

"Oh, ha-ha, Kalakaua. Don't think that since you you're still healing, I won't turn you over my knee for that kind of lip." The team had given up on the federally mandated anti-sexual harassment PC-ism somewhere in their second or third month together. They were more like a bunch of siblings bickering amongst themselves, but if an outside force had dared mess with one of them . . .yeah, it could get ugly. Well, that used to be the case, but things felt different now. Danny couldn't remember when that had happened though.

"Danny?"

"Sorry, Kono. Just lookin' for something to eat. You know we got nothing but bio-hazard in the fridge? Think I might have to call in Haz-Mat." Danny leaned back against the counter and stared at the last of the coffee dripping into the carafe. "So, you know I'm just kiddin', right? You took on those shits alone, I, at least had Chin and McGarrett. But, seriously, um, you alright? Nothing short of a full recovery, right?"

"Danny." Kono's voice, its merry quality gone, seemed more serious than he had ever heard it. "I'm fine. Really. Sure, I'm going to have to do some physio, but otherwise nothing permanently damaged. I'll be back before you know it."

"Chin said that your mom, well, I guess most of the family, doesn't want you to come back."

"Chin talks too much."

Danny couldn't hold back the snort if he had had a gun in face. "Yeah, I discovered that today."

Danny could hear some rustling through the line; she must have been rearranging her casted leg on the bed. There was a dull thud followed by a distant grunt her standard swearing. "Kono?" He filled up the last clean mug from the cupboard and wandered back to his office.

"Sorry, tried to reach my water and dropped the phone." She sounded slightly winded, like she had just raced up a series of flights of stairs. Hell, Danny thought, I would be wheezing like a three-pack-a-day smoker. "Chin said that he had a touch of teenage girl in him when he took you home. He sounded really down, Danny. I haven't heard him sound like that in a long time. Not since that first Christmas . . . when the family . . . well, it's been quite a while, let's say."

"Yeah. I got it. We've all been floundering a bit. This case is really doin' a number on us all." He sat at his desk and turned towards the windows again, but there was just darkness beyond the slats of the blinds. "I really don't know . . ."

"Chin will be okay, Danny. He's just tired and kinda sore at the world right now. I asked him about Steve and he told me that he has pretty much severed most of their contact. Boy, I ripped into him but good about that. That's no way for ohana to act." Her voice had a steely twinge to it. "Steve's hurting just as bad as any of us. Maybe more."

"He's been off a bit, Kono. Well, actually quite a lot. It's like he can't seem to see the endgame, and he's on some nonstop loop, just constantly moving and only arriving at the beginning again."

"Did you know that he got hurt same day as me? Had to get a few stitches across his hip, where he got kicked by somebody's stupid tricked-out boot."

Danny audibly gasped at his teammate's revelation; he nearly dropped the phone from its place tucked below his ear on the undamaged side of his neck as he waved his hands about at nobody. "When did he? I mean, I was with him most of that day; we never went to the hospital except to be with you. It was nearly ten at night when I dropped him at home. He didn't have tim-"

"I saw them, Danny. On Tuesday, when I was finally able to stay awake for more than an hour," Kono's voice took on the bitterness that usually came with a normally healthy person being forced into a hospital stay. "He flinched, when he bent over to talk to me. He couldn't hide it and I made him show me. There were over half a dozen stitches there. I saw them. They looked pretty angry, too."

Danny felt the question niggling at his tongue. He wanted to ask Chin when it first popped into his mind in the car, but he didn't want to raise any suspicions then, but now he knew he had to ask it or it would keep burrowing deeper into his soul. "Um, Kono? Did you . . . ah, are you and . . ." He felt his throat constricting.

"Our Danny, at a loss for words." Kono interrupted with a touch of wonderment. "Come on, you can do it." She chided softly.

"No. I mean, yeah I can, but I don't really want to."

"What is it, Danny?" She heard him draw in a breath. "Danny?"

"I . . . Chin said that, um McGarrett had been to see you a lot. Day and night, a lot. Are you and he . . . ah, I mean . . . do you two have a . . . you know, a thing." He cursed himself for his herky-jerky sentence and got up from his chair to pace his office.

"Steve? Me and Steve? Danny, No. Not just no, but NO. He was worried, you all were, I know, and you all came to see me when you could. A thing, Danny?" She gave a small laugh as if to gently mock him for his juvenile question. "If you are asking if Steve McGarrett and I are romantically involved I can without any doubt in my mind say that the answer is no. Would I if I could? hmmm," Danny listened to her hum as if pondering a scenario. "I don't think so; we may be a little too similar while being a little too different, if that makes any sense. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's got interest in someone else."

Danny let the air out of his lungs. He hadn't realized that he was holding his breath. A slightly embarrassed chuckle escaped as well. "I'm sorry. I just, well Chin made it sound like . . .ah, I'm an ass. Look forget I asked. Please? I'm just trying to figure out what's up with Steve is all." He decided not to ask about the 'someone else.'

"What is up with Steve?" Kono asked curiosity piqued with Danny's fumbling words. He didn't come in last night or today for that matter. He's been here a lot and when I last saw him he said he would be back soon."

"I don't know, he –" Danny stopped talking when he finally noticed the case folder beneath his coffee cup. Sliding it out and opening it, he knew that if anyone was watching him right now he would look like he had just gotten the world's biggest brain freeze.

It was the Washui case file. Steve had completed his share of the paperwork and everything was properly typed and printed. It was pristine. The 'I's were dotted and the 'T's were crossed. And everything was signed. "Danny? Danny, what's wrong? Danny, answer me. Do I need to call Chin? Danny?" He could vaguely hear Kono's queries, but he was suddenly at a loss. It wasn't until he heard her shout that he answered.

"It's done."

"What? Danny? Come on, brah, What's done?"

"The Washui case. Your case. McGarrett finished the paperwork, Kono. This case is finally over. I mean, sure Chin and I have to put in our versions and ballistics and everything, but it's done. Do you see what I mean when I say something's been up with McGarrett? He has finished the paperwork without being threatened with a good shooting." Danny didn't realize just how much anxiety this case had held over him until now. He felt his back start to release its tension and his shoulders dropping.

"Well, Danny, I would recommend a six-pack, maybe some take-out, and a trip to Steve's." Kono's voice took on a beguiling lilt. "Give the boss a hug for me. And Danny? Let's all of us get together sometime this week, yeah? I miss you guys. See ya soon, brah." Danny didn't even get a chance to say goodbye as the line went dead.

He would finish his write-ups tomorrow he decided, but first a shower, then yeah, he thought that Kono's suggestions seemed like an A-one, first class plan. He grabbed his bag and headed to the basement.

Thirty minutes later, Danny reemerged in the offices; he felt the cleanest he had been in what seemed like weeks. The stink of this ever-expanding case had been carried down the drain with the grime of the docks and the anxiousness of too many short nights. He felt lighter than he had in days, weeks in fact. With a little bounce to his step, Danny entered his office and pulled a clean button down from his supply in the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet. He wondered were Steve was. He wasn't in the gym or the showers, nor obviously the tiny kitchen. Slipping it on his shirt over his undershirt, he strolled from his office and headed for Steve's. Maybe he was napping on the couch and hadn't heard Danny come in. The buoyancy was dropped from Danny's pace when he reached out and turned on the light.

What the hell? Steve wasn't there, but he obviously had been sometime in the last twelve hours. It looked as if a small bomb had gone off on his partners' desk. At first, Danny thought that someone had ransacked the place, but everything outside of the desk looked as it should. So it had to be the man, himself that wrought this carnage. The desk top it's self was littered with tiny pieces of plastic and metal, that upon closer inspection had once been a pen from the fancy desk set that normally sat on the corner. Of course the generous amount of ink covering papers and folders would have brought him to the same conclusion.

A flash of yellow caught the corner of his eye and Danny looked at the sticky note on the model ship in the glass case behind his desk. It was written in Steve's jagged printing 'Donate – Bishop'. The note caused Danny to wrinkle his brow even further. He had asked Steve about the ship when he had helped him carry it into the office. Steve treasured it. So why would he want to donate it? Danny was confused.

He turned around again and glanced back at the desk. There were four envelopes leaning against the base of the lamp. He picked them up and was disappointed to see that they were sealed. They were each addressed with a single name; one each for Chin, Kono, Mary, and Governor Jameson. What about me, Steve? Danny's mind reeled at the exclusion. He begrudgingly placed them back where he found them, not that he would have read them, but, well, maybe he would have, he thought mulishly.

Danny looked back down at the desk and started logging its appearance in his brain. Besides the letters and the pen fragments, there were a few sets of keys; a couple of coffee cups from the diner around the corner, a photo frame lay on its face. Danny tipped it up, but he knew it was a photo of the entire McGarrett family taken when Steve was around seven; he was missing a front tooth, something he proudly showed from the circle of his mother's arms and Mary had been but a chubby toddler clutching at her dad's fingers. They all looked happy. Danny replaced the picture where it usually stood and noticed that in its prone state it had covered a couple of pill bottles, one nearly empty and the other about half full. Fuck, Danny reprimanded himself for his shortsightedness, he really was hurt.

Danny jammed the bottles into his pocket and stormed from Steve's office. He stopped in his own long enough to grab his phone, keys, and weapon and to turn off the light. He was going to get to the bottom of the McGarrett mystery right now. What at first felt like missing connections now seemed to resonate as complete avoidance. Well, Danny thought, fuck that. He didn't care what it took, but he was going to get Steve to talk. And they were going to do it right fucking now. Danny headed for the Camaro.