The Dreams in Which I'm Dying . . .

Disclaimer : The persons and characters within this fic belong to CBS and their holding companies. I have done this story for no profit and do not hope to gain any. The story title is from "Mad World as sung by Gary Jules. The chapter title is from "Last Goodbye" by the amazing Jeff Buckley.

A/N: There is only one chapter left after this. Thanks to all of you that have stuck by this story and encouraged me with your reviews.

A/N2:So to be honest, I have never gone to medical school nor have I ever had the desire. The effects of the the medication mentioned within the story were taken from research online and while they may be actual side-effects for some people; they are not always present in all people who take it or quit it cold-turkey. I am not saying that taking the medication is bad nor do I recommend going against any doctors orders in the case of any personal prescriptions. I have made that choice before and suffered the consequences. Please remember that this a work of fiction. It is also unbeta'd so any and all spelling and grammar issues are my fault. The same could be said for any plot holes.

Chapter 7: Must I Dream and Always See Your Face

Danny sat in the bedroom for a few minutes, trying to get his mind to slow to a crawl, but to no avail. He just couldn't wrap his mind around how Steve was acting. He was different in nearly every way. Where he once stood tall and challenging, he now appeared haggard and broken. Up until lately, he had always been purposefully driven in whatever situation they were in as far as Danny could tell. Calculating and decisive. Now? Danny sighed as he remembered having to lead his partner to the stairs and practically forcing him up them. He had never seen Steve at odds with his own actions before. It was disturbing. Maybe you don't know him as well as you think, Danny's brain supplied snarkishly. He reached up and rubbed lightly at the bullet graze, great, he pouted, even his mind was mocking him.

Danny mind flicked to the memory of Grace's broken shell, the one that Steve reminded him of on the docks. She had left it at Steve's when he had taken her home that night and when Danny found it a few days later when he was waiting for Steve in the morning, he had pitched it back into the ocean. He winced at the realization that if his mind had substituted Steve for the shell, was it up to him to throw Steve away in hopes that he would find someone else to make him whole; to take up residence in his broken soul. Shit. Danny rubbed a hand over his brow and down his jaw; he was some sort of sick fuck for even thinking like that. He needed to quit thinking about that fucking broken shell. Steve was nothing like that, he was exhausted and he just needed sleep. And what I need is a beer.

Standing, Danny started for the door before remembering that Steve didn't have any clean clothes to change into after his shower, he detoured to the dresser and opened a few drawers before finding what he was looking for. Snagging a pair of plaid sleep pants, some boxers, and a faded and worn 'Navy' tank. He crossed the hall to the bathroom and knocking lightly stepped in. "Hey, brought you some clean things to wear. 'Kay?" He tried to keep his voice upbeat and aloof. He heard Steve grunt a reply.

Danny made sure to keep his eyes averted, making sure not to look in the curtain, but his eyes strayed to the mirror instead. Fogged. Figures, it served him right for being a peeping tom. Danny shook his head in disgust at himself. He picked up the filthy clothes from the floor and started to leave when his eyes caught sight of the pill bottles in the sink basin again. There had been a name he wasn't familiar with, what was it again? He mused as he tried to pick it out of the pile without disturbing the lot of them. Effexor, that's it. He snagged the bottle and slipped it into the pocket with the bottles from the office. Pulling the door to just short of latching he started down the stairs.

He watched the door shutting slowly behind Danny. He was alone again, just standing there listening to the echoing of the water pelting the tiles in the shower mixing with the more solid sound of the rain beating on the roof above him. It was comforting to know that he had protection from the storm roaring loudly outside. It allowed him to concentrate more on the one raging internally.

Thumbing the button of his cargos, he noticed how they slipped easily from hips. I need to eat, he thought absently. Wait, I just did, didn't I? He scowled at his confusion. It was getting harder to keep all the facts straight in his mind. Lowering his boxer briefs, he stepped out and kicked them and the cargos aside to settle next to his discarded tee in front of the vanity. He stepped slowly into the shower and turned the tap to allow more hot water into the flow.

When was the last time I had a shower? Steve wondered to himself. He usually had one in the morning after his swim and after a run or a workout. But he knew he hadn't swum since sometime last week at least and it had been even longer since he ran or did something from his program. The water was nearly too hot as it pummeled his maltreated shoulders. It felt as though the needle-like pressure was slicing through his skin, flaying him open and baring the muscles and tendons beneath. He didn't adjust the temperature though, he needed it to be scalding; allowing it to sluice away the foulness of the case. Bracing his hands against the wall he lowered his head against his knuckles, causing the water to flow over his head and down his back.

He could almost visualize the water washing the dirt and grime down his body like a river out of control. Dried blood and thoughts were being swept along as if they were debris in the rising heads of whitewater, not unlike the ones that crowned one of the flashfloods he had witnessed while on a mission in Eastern Africa. The storm clouds had built slowly, he remembered, hiding behind the whirling dust and sand clouds, catching both animals and men on the narrow precipices they had climbed to hastily; above the narrow gullies they had been using as highways. The water had started as a trickle before showing its true and violent nature, surging rapidly, crushing those poor souls too weak to escape it.

He remembered the tears that tracked silently down his cheeks later that night while on guard. There had been a few animals that had barely survived the torrent and its mighty waters down in the gullies. They were broken and savaged, to say the least, but for fear of giving away their position, his superior forbade he and his team from putting the pathetic creatures down. Tactical? Yes. A necessary evil of being a soldier? Yes. But try as he might, Steve couldn't help but place himself in the position of the mortally wounded animals that night or the many nights after, the anguished shrieks of the helpless, dying creatures had rent the air for hours after the water receded.

He had carried those cries within the pith of his being for the rest of the mission. Even these days with 5-0, when he heard victims crying out, he felt his heart bleeding for those animals, so much so that he often wishes he could exchange places with those being forced to experience pain they had never asked for. Like Kono. It should have been me; he allowed the thought to rest on the edge of his mind.

Steve could feel the sultriness in the bathroom air seeping into his lungs, stifling his breath. He blinked repeatedly, to try and appease the panic flooding his body, tensing his abused muscles and sapping his strength. How close he had come this week to following through with this frightening compassionate desire left over from the African sortie. Curling his fists, Steve turned his head, resting his cheek against the tile, he felt it slip on the slickened porcelain, sending his balance a bit off-kilter. He stepped closer to the wall and splayed his fingers wide, to cling to the gout grooves in hopes of regaining some of his poise.

He has always prided himself on his strength, his resilience, but this desolation; this desperation had him at a lost. But, he thought wildly, he had Danny here now. That would help. Wouldn't it? Danny had found him and Danny had seen the pill bottles. He knows. He had seen the guns in the den and had figured out why they were ripped apart. He knows. Well he doesn't know that those guns, even if they were put back together, still wouldn't work. Steve felt his cheek twitch. I may be weak, but I'm smart enough to do at least one thing right. Steve thought wanly, even Danny would have to agree. But Danny knows and now what?

Danny. Why had Danny come over anyway? Steve felt his mind catching on that very question. Why? He remembered thinking earlier that Danny was going to yell at him, was going to rip into him for the fucked up raid today. But Danny hadn't done that. He had hugged him and fed him. Why did that seem so wrong? Steve tripped over his memories of what had occurred since Danny got there. Sure, he had yelled, but only because he thought that I had overdosed, His mind reminded him of the recent past. Then he hugged me. Steve could still feel Danny's small hands clinging at his arms and his shoulders. He could still feel his scalp tingling from the gentle caress as one of them had stole into his hair as Danny clutched his head to his broad chest. But then he slammed him against the wall and yell at him again.

The air changed around his body as the door to the bathroom was pushed open, letting the buildup of steam dissipate in the cooler air from the hall. He heard Danny mention something about clean clothes or something. Steve grunted his acknowledgement as he was really didn't know what to say, especially since he really hadn't heard what was said. He couldn't remember the last time someone had cared enough to take care of him. Bullshit. He bowed his head in shame at the lie. He knew exactly when the last time was that someone had taken care of him. He also remembered how he had repaid that person. With betrayal and dishonor. He would never forget the moment it had ended or the consequences that he has lived with every day since.

Pulling himself away from wall and back under the spray, Steve felt the water biting at his bruised right shoulder as it stretched when he reached for the soap. Lathering his hands he reached up and gently cleaned the abused flesh as well as his arm. Glancing down he watched the soapy residue, lusterless with the grime it carried, washing down his blackened ribs. He repeated the process on the other side, wincing as the soap crested over the reddened and raw skin of his partially healed hip.

He ran a finger softly across his rib, trailing it along the same path that Danny had burned into his skin. Fuck, how he had wanted to step into that touch. He craved it. He had wanted to feel Danny's hands on his skin for months now, since that time after Meka, but now . . . now he knew he had been right to back away. It had been Steve, himself, who had limited the closeness, he knew it now. At the time he had thought that maybe Danny, well, maybe he had been interested. But he couldn't let Danny get any closer. He wasn't right for Danny. Danny deserved much better than what he could offer, which was only destruction and heartbreak. Danny deserved love.

Besides, he grimaced; Danny had verified earlier that he was a menace. That he only thought of results, no matter the cost. There was no way he would believe that he wasn't like that at all. Steve knew that he tried; he had always tried to do right. To do what he was supposed to. But someone always got hurt. Steve felt the lump forming high in his throat. He wanted to go back to the beginning, he wanted to not fuck up and make people die. Clenching his eyes closed he prayed to find blackness behind his lids, but the parade of those wronged by him continued to swarm around him.

Steve stood still under spray for a long time, letting the water run cool. The chill felt good after the harshness of the heat from before. It's like scuba diving, he thought randomly, spending your time on a boat in the blazing sun wrapped in black and then plummeting into the shadowy depths, beyond the surface warmed by the sun until you sank lower than light can sometimes reach. Granted if you were doing it right, you would rise up to an acceptable viewing depth, he acknowledged to himself. But Steve knew that sometimes he liked to skim the bottom, seeing how far he could push himself down; much to the consternation of his diving companions.

The water surrounding him turned colder still. He knew he should get out before Danny got worried about him and came to check on him, but he just stood there; the rivulets of icy water chasing the heat from his flushed skin, raising tiny bumps among his pores. Steve stared down with a morbid fascination, watching the mottled skin above his impaired muscles prickle and jump beneath the hair on his chest. He touched a shaking wrinkled finger to his sternum, rubbing at the pain that throbbed beneath. He felt weak in his attempt to stop it from spreading, from taking over his entire body. Why couldn't he control it now? He felt the tears starting to well in his eyes, blinding him.

Struggling to find his equilibrium, he reached down blindly and gripped the tub faucet before easing down, trembling, to settle on the porcelain side of the tub. He could vaguely hear the shower water dripping from the curtain onto the floor, a mere distinction that was threatened to be drown out by the scratching of the Koa tree branches on the frosted bathroom window. The tree was whipping violently to and fro in the wind as the storm continued to build outside. Steve clutched at the opaque vinyl curtain in vain as he slipped into the tub, tearing it from the plastic rings and bending the rod in the process. The sensation of utter helplessness he felt was in danger of being overrun by the truth. He was a menace, a reckless, hopeless menace. People died because he was selfish, greedy.

Sobbing now, he curled in upon himself, willing himself to die, if only to stop himself from thinking.

Danny was standing in the kitchen staring out the window into the blackness. The lightening was providing occasional flashes of the rain sheeting down beyond the safety of the lanai. He had grabbed a juice box, from the fridge after he gave up on his quest for beer. Steve kept it on hand for when Danny brought Grace over. It was only a week past its expiration date, so it should still be good, Danny thought. Sure, he had a couple of six-packs in the Camaro, along with a nice bottle of whisky, but there was no way he was going after it right now. The closest he had come was by making sure the doors were locked, pointing the keychain clicker out the front window.

"Hey, it's me. So did you get everything you needed at the docks?" Danny felt guilty at the tiredness that evident in Chin's muffled 'Hey'. "So, I'm just calling to . . . well, I guess confirm with you that we, as in all of us, are taking the next couple of days off." He picked absently through the mess of things on the table that he had pulled from Steve's pockets before tossing the cargos and everything else into the laundry room. He picked up Steve's cell and held the button to power it down.

"O . . . kay. Uh, what about the case file, don't we need to get on that?" Chin's voice held a definite tone of bewilderment to it. "And what about . . . ah, Steve? What does he say? Is he okay with this?" Danny could hear Chin chewing on something wherever he was.

"Yeah, Steve's . . ." Danny couldn't decide if he should tell Chin about the state of the house or even the worse, the state Steve was in. They had been at odds most of the week. Chin wouldn't use his boss's emotional distress against him. Would he? Danny was still waffling in his head when Chin broke through his doubt.

"Steve . . .Steve needs more than a couple of days off, if you ask me. Kono filled me in on what he's been like when he's been in to see her, well that is when she wasn't tearing me a new one." His voice only has a trace of betrayal, Danny thought, nothing like he was earlier. "Besides, I kinda wanted to spend some of tomorrow with her, if I can get around Aunty that is."

"That's a good idea. As for the paperwork . . .well, I think that Tuesday is as good a day to turn it in as any, right? Maybe even Wednesday." Danny didn't wait for his teammates answer before continuing on. "Will you call the governor's office and tell them that we are standing down? I would but I kinda got my hands full with –" He cut himself off with a scrunch of his face.

"Oh yeah, how you feelin', brah? Arm not hurting too much, I hope." Danny thought that Chin must have known what he was going to say, but had opted to let Danny retain the information to himself for the time being.

"No. I'm good, really. Bit singed and sore as hell, but I'll live." Danny dug in his pocket and added his own contributions to the growing 'What the Fuck?' pile on the table "Anyway, the Governor. Will you tell her to call either me or you . . .you okay with that? If she needs anything important, that is." He picked up the empty bottle that he palmed upstairs and stared at the label.

"Sure, brah. I'm at the office right now, so I'll do it as soon as I get off. She probably won't be happy, but I often wonder when she is." Chin took a gulp of something and swallowed noisily before he continued "Sorry. Hey, did you happen to go into Steve's office today when you were here? I went in for the folder for the Washui case, which I found on your desk, by the way and it's . . . well, it was chaotic. Steve's, I mean."

"Yeah, I saw it." He answered flatly. "You able to look something up for me, Chin?" Danny knew that by asking what he was going to ask, he was inviting Chin to draw some pretty bizarre and probably pretty truthful assumptions. He also knew that deep down he wanted someone other than himself to be prepared to deal with whatever was ripping Steve apart.

"Sure, shoot."

"Could you look up a pill? Effexor. E-f-f-e-x-o-r. I wanna know what it's for, what it does, and what stopping it does? Can you do that?" Sucking in a slow breath between flattened lips, Danny dropped the pill bottle back to the pile and started poking through it again. Other than what he had added, everything else seemed pretty normal.

"Sure, just give me a . . ." Danny could hear the feint clicks of Chin's fingers flying over a keyboard. Beside his phone there was a roll of mints, Steve's truck keys, his wallet, a locket with no chain, a few scraps of paper with Steve's tiny scratchy writing on them, and some loose change. He picked up the locket to examine it more closely. It seemed fairly old and there was an inscription rubbed nearly flush with the finish, 'Mom'. Ah, Danny thought, well that seems ab-

"Effexor. It's an antidepressant, used most commonly as a mood elevator. If someone was to stop taking it . . .jeez, it's a laundry list of both physical and emotional issues."

"Just the highlights if you can, babe." Danny dropped the locket and ran his finger across what he thought of as 'his envelope' now.

"Anxiety, depression, insomnia, nightmares, suicidal thoughts, dizziness, tremors, mood swings . . . Danny. I could spend the next several minutes just on the highlights alone. Is this-" Danny could sense the hesitation in Chin unfinished question.

"I don't know Chin, I'm just now figuring some stuff out. Look, I'm pretty sure I got this, all right? Danny paused to let the Hawaiian respond. When he didn't, he asked again. "All right, Chin? Trust me. I'll call if I need to. I promise. Just . . .please. Stay close."

"Whatever you need, Danny." Chin's tone had dropped, filled with troubled compassion. "Same for Steve, man. Call if you need me, I'll be there."

"Will do." Danny was suddenly thankful that he hadn't had that beer. "And Chin? This is between us, okay?"

"Sure thing, brah. Stay in touch." Danny listened to the line go dead, before he sat heavily and stared at the collection of the table. He picked up the envelope with his name on it. He thought back to his anger in the office at being excluded and at his confusion of finding this envelope in the den covered in gun parts. He had always hated surprises as a kid and some things never change. Would he be betraying Steve if he opened it? It was half-assed addressed to him after all. But then again, Steve hadn't handed it to him either.

Laying it back on the table, Danny finished his juice box and tossed it in the trash. It wasn't his to read, not yet at least. He grabbed a couple bottles of water from the fridge and started for the stairs. He could hear the thunder constantly rolling across the sky outside. Danny nudged a small box on the first step, out of the way with his toe; taking a deep breath he headed up to see what Steve was up to.

"Steve?" Steve heard Danny's voice, calling softly to him from the hall, "You okay in there? Haven't drown have you?" He wanted to answer, but the persistent lump in his throat, threatened to choke him when he opened his mouth. He watched the door swing open silently.

"Babe?" Danny sensed that any optimism he had felt growing from their first encounter tonight dwindled away to nothingness as he took in the torn shower curtain on the bent rod. His eyes followed the half-hung piece of vinyl down to the ball of agonizing humanity huddled in the tub. "Jesus, Steve. Are you okay? Did you fall? Talk to me, babe. Did you hit your head?" Danny rushed the few steps to the tub and dropped to his knees on the bathmat. "Fuck, Steven, what am I-" he snapped his mouth shut, teeth clicking loudly together. He was thinking of the discussion he just had with Chin. His mind started listing the symptoms of the withdrawal Steve was probably going through. His yelling at Steve wasn't going to help. Not at all.

"F . . .fell. I fell . . . dizz-" Steve couldn't finish his sentence as his teeth were chattering so much that he could practically feel the lockjaw settling in.

"Okay, okay, you fell. You should have hollered. I was just downstairs, I would have come." Danny had reached out and slapped the water off, wincing at the frigidness of it. He grabbed the towel from the counter and wrapped it around as much of his partners' body as possible. One of Steve's hand snaked from beneath the towel to cling at Danny's injured wrist. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Yeah? I've got you. Did you hurt anything beside your pride?" Danny could hear his voice pitching a bit higher in his panic. "Hmm? Steve, did you hurt your hip again? Your shoulder? Back?"

"N . . .no, just fell." He felt Danny patting him as dry as he could, while still granting him the privacy of hiding behind the bath towel. "Okay. Just . . . cold."

"Right, then. Let's see about getting you out of here, okay? Get you into some dry clothes." Danny felt his bad knee twinge as he stood and reached into the cupboard for a second towel. "Got the floor a bit damp, didn't you. That's okay, cleaned it up with my knees, didn't I? Good thing to, these pants are due for a cleaning." He kept up the steady patter, more for himself than Steve. If he kept talking he could keep the part of his brain that wanted his partner, turned to 'off'. "Come on then, up we go." He clasped one of Steve's near frozen hands with his good arm and hoisted the best he could.

"Dan . . .ny. Sorry." Steve considered how awkward this must be for his partner; to have to drag his boss naked from a tub. "I'm . . .-"

Danny for his part just shushed him and secured the wetter towel from the tub, around his waist and used the other to rub lightly over all other areas of Steve's body, finishing with a ruffling flourish through his hair. "Alright, that's us dry. Clothes and then bed, I think." He grabbed the tank top from the vanity top and held it open for Steve to thread his trembling arms through. Lifting it over his head, Danny snugged it down to his waist. "You feeling better now?" He hadn't expected an answer so he wasn't terribly surprised when one wasn't forthcoming.

He palmed both of Steve's hips and pivoted him slightly until he leaned back against the sink. "Boxers and/or pants?" Danny felt foolish asking, but it was his sincerest desire that Steve be comfortable. He picked up both, one in each hand and held them out for Steve to decide.

Steve was powerless to stop the repeated twitching in the depths of his soul from manifesting into a vibration that circulated throughout his body. Around and around it coursed through his veins, reaching each nerve ending and causing him to start minutely shivering again. He knew what was causing it and that scared him; turning the shivering into a full body quaking. The last time he was this close to a male that he desired, he had been a boy. A stupid, horny boy.

"Babe?" Danny watched his friend shutting down for what seemed like the hundredth time tonight. "Come on, Steve. Don't leave me again. Come back." Danny couldn't keep the shock from his face as Steve's head whipped up and his dark hazel eyes pierced his own. They were startlingly clear.

"Not leaving." If Danny heard the soft pant behind his exclamation, he didn't say anything, which Steve was thankful for. "Not again."

After that Danny found Steve much more manageable. He had tugged the sleep pants gently from Danny's hand, which hung limply at his side and with a little help from the blonde man, managed to pull them on himself under the towel. Danny loaded his toothbrush with paste for him and with a soft brush to his shoulder excused himself to fetch the pills from the pile of refuse on the kitchen table. He shut off the rest of the lights in the upstairs rooms', save the master bedroom, before turning towards the bathroom again.

Steve was just rinsing and spitting when Danny re-entered. "I know you don't want to take anything. I get that, I do." He sensed the dark look leveled at him rather than seeing it as he examined the two bottles. "Don't look at me like that, babe? I just want that hip to heal. I was just going to suggest that you take the antibiotic. That's all. Would that be okay? Steve?" He looked up then and found himself lost in twin pools of deep green honesty. Steve's eye looked like two tide pools filled with algae covered rocks with a reflection of the twilight sky speckled throughout for good measure. He sucked a shallow breath through his teeth.

"Whatever you thinks' best, Danny." Steve's voice had become malleable and Danny found that it had molded itself around his heart, making it beat faster. I'm fucked, is all the he could think.

Steve reached out his hand and waited for Danny to open the right bottle. He eyed the white and green capsule, dwarfed in his broad palm, for a moment, as if challenging it to do its job, then popped it into his mouth. Cupping a handful of water from the faucet he swallowed it carefully. "I'm . . .tired. I'm so fucking tired, D." He studied Danny's reflection in the mirror. Their eyes met and held, as thousand unsaid words passed between them in that moment, but now was not the time to utter a single one.

"Come on then. Let's get you to bed." Danny knew he wouldn't get all the answers tonight, he didn't even know if he would get one, but he wrapped his fingers around Steve's bicep and led him to the bedroom and tucked him in.

"Don't leave." Steve would have cringed at the pleading tone of his voice, but he couldn't feel shame anymore. He didn't want to give up. For the first time in days, he thought wildly, I'm going to fight for what I want.

"I wasn't planning on it. Just getting you comfortable and then I'll go-"

"No." Steve's hand caught Danny around the wrist again. Not tight enough to hurt, but definitely stronger than Danny expected.

"I'm not leaving Steve, I was just going to sleep in the other ro-" Again he was cut off by a quieter, but no less imploring voice saying 'no'. "I can stay here until you fall asleep. Would that make you feel better?"

"Sleep in here, Danny. Please? I . . . I . . .alone, no." He watched Steve shake his head as if clearing away a hard knock in the ring. "I . . . I don't want, um, to be . . . alone. Please, Danny?" Danny knew that he would be a fool to miss the opportunity that was suddenly before him at that very moment, but he also knew how he felt about his friend and he wanted to spare him any discomfort. Steve's hand started twisting lightly around his wrist, over and over again.

"Okay." He said simply, stripping down to his boxers, he turned off the lights and crawled in to the bed next to Steve, who had rolled to his side and buried his nose against Danny's shoulder. He knew now that he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. Just like he wasn't going to get any answers.

It was late Monday afternoon, before Danny found the trigger to Steve's troubled mind, quite by accident really. In the full day and a half since he found his friend wrapped around himself in his boyhood room, Steve had barely let him out of his sight. They spoke of inconsequential things, such as surfing, the Mets, their shared hatred of Spam. He ate when Danny told him to. He allowed Danny to check his stitches without questions or petulance. He took his antibiotics when they were handed to him.

Danny slept in his bed at night. Both nights they always started out on their own respective sides of the bed, but in the morning Danny would wake with his wrist wrapped up in Steve's long fingers. Danny was actually becoming concerned at the lack of fight he found in Steve.

Some questions he sussed out answers to for himself, like the lights all being on and the door open. That was easy, Steve had forgotten to shut the door after the pizza guy had been there and the lights chased away imagined shadows, not unlike Gracie when she dreamed of monsters in the closet. The pills? The knife in the wall? The broken down guns? Another set of simple answers, they were Steve's way of safeguarding himself from making a foolish mistake.

Danny even figured out why the Mercury's door was hanging open. He had went to the garage when Steve was resting on the sofa and found the door to be only partially assembled, it's casing propping the door open as Steve must have been working on the locking mechanism.

Some answers he assumed and didn't even bother asking for confirmation from his partner. The state of his desk at headquarters, the note on the model, the envelopes; they were all signals of a troubled mind that was screaming out for attention. Danny had placed his envelope back on the desk in the den on that first morning after he pried his arm away from the man clinging to it like a lifeline. Danny felt overwhelmed at the sensation being revered as a savior of sorts. Nobody in his life had ever hinted at, much less acted as though he was the only thing keeping them alive.

So it wasn't until he wandered out onto the lanai, carrying the small package from the bottom of th stairs, that the truth came out.

He brought it out at the same time he brought their iced teas, joking like he had when he brought in the UPS package from Iowa that one time. "Got you something." He said placing it in front of Steve on the wrought iron table. He half-expected an eye-roll at the very least or maybe even a 'wasn't funny the first time', but all he got were eyes pooling with tears.

"Shit, Steve. I'm sorry. What the . . .Come on, babe, I was kidding." He placed his hand gently on Steve's left shoulder trying to convey through touch that he knew that he really was the biggest schmuck around and he didn't mean anything by it. "Steve, I . . ." He let his unspoken apology dangle, knowing full well that there was nothing he could do to instantly fix this fuck-up. Reaching out with his toe, he pulled his chair close and sat down to wait for Steve to give him a sign on how he could help.

Danny spent the next twenty minutes watching the ice melt in their teas, glancing occasionally at the mute man next to him. Finally he had enough, "I'm going to put this back wher-" He was cut off by movement next to him.

Danny had been reaching for the box, when Steve's hand clamped tightly at first, then more softly at his forearm. He caressed his fingers carefully down the furry forearm until he could link his fingers with Danny's. Holding their joined hands carefully on his thigh, he let out a heavy sigh.

"I was . . ." his voice broke then causing him to clear his throat. "Um, I was fifteen. And I thought I knew everything. You know how that is, wiser than everybody else. Nobody could tell you how to act. How to behave. How to be." He paused to take a sip of tea. "I was a jock, you know that, and I'm sure you remember how full of themselves high school jocks are. I also had just gotten my learners' permit. One of the first in my class, you know." He looked at Danny from beneath lowered lashes, still glistening with unshed tears.

Danny, for his part, just sat silently and listened to his friend spin out a tale of an enchanted youth. He stared at the box on the table and allowed Steve's words to spin around him, The various tones weaving a captivating cadance of highs and lows. The inflections had risen with the high times, such as surfing the Pipeline for the first time, kissing Kanani Lukai under the lifeguard stand, and camping on the beach with his friends. They also sank as he told of visiting the Arizona and really understanding for the first time, his grandfathers' sacrifice. Of his grandmother's death. Danny was mesmerized at this opportunity to actually learn so much about his friend.

"And then I turned sixteen and I had the world by its tail. I had made first string in football a week after I got my driver's license. I was begging my parents for the car. Daily. If we needed anything. Stamps? I was off. Milk? Send me, please? It was a Saturday afternoon and my friend Paul was over, we were screwing around out here on the lanai, just joking around. Horseplay, really. I heard Mary squealing in the kitchen for something, I don't remember what." Danny felt himself tense at the flatness that Steve's voice had took on. "I grabbed Paul's arm and hauled him over there, under the 'Ōhi'a lehua's." Danny's gaze followed Steve's free hand as it pointed to the small grove of trees separating the McGarrett house from the neighbors.

"I didn't want to have to deal with Mary. She was around ten then. I think. So Paul and I hid among the undergrowth and watched her searching around for us. She had wanted some kind of glue or something, for her school project she was working on. We thought it was a scream, you know, messing with her, hiding from her. I heard her calling out my mother that she couldn't find us. I heard mom's voice. I couldn't hear what she said, but she must have said the right thing, 'cause Mary ran back into the house. We were rolling with laughter by then. Honestly rolling in the dirt like a couple of hyenas." Steve paused in his narrative to stare at the trees. Danny looked up at him and noticed that the tears that had threatened to fall earlier were openly coursing down Steve's cheeks.

"I don't know who started it. I really don't. I've thought about this moment almost every day of my life and I can't for the life of me remember who started it. But as we were there, under the trees, rolling around like idiots, we . . .we somehow crashed . . .crashed into one another and . . ." Steve stopped to drag in a shuddering breath. "We somehow started . . .kissing. . .kissing, we started kissing and . . . then, uh touch . . .sorry, touching each other. We, um, didn't do much more. Just kissing and touching each . . .touching each other like we thought that our lives would end . . . would end if we stopped."

Danny looked down at their hands in Steve's lap and took in the ten white knuckles. He can't believe that Steve had been carrying this around with him for what? Eighteen years? He brought his other hand over to cover their joined ones, hoping that Steve would be able to draw some sort of strength from it or something like that.

"I had never thought, uh, thought that I was, you know . . . into guys. I guess it never came up or something. But . . . I liked it. So help me, I liked it. A lot. While we were down there, my dad came home." Danny felt his own breath catch as he feared for teenage Steve getting busted by his father. "He and Mary came out and heard him hollering for me. I swear. I never moved that fast in my life. I pushed Paul away, deep into the trees and told him to stay. I told him to stay, like he was a dog or something." Steve's voice took on a hard edge. "I crawled out and was met by Mary's pout and dad's . . .well, dad always looked a little pissed. I lied to him. I said that I was looking for my football. I'm pretty sure, he knew. Not about Paul, but that I was full of shit. He just told me to set the table and when mom got home, we would eat."

Danny had known, on some level, that Steve had some serious skeletons in his closet. That he couldn't or wouldn't come to terms with his mom's death. He didn't need Steve to go on. He knew what day it was in sixteen-year-old Steve's life. It was the worst day of his life. Period. He looked back at Steve. Tears were still flowing freely down his cheeks, dripping onto his tee shirt. "Babe." Danny whispered, running his free hand up and down Steve's arm. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." What else could he say? There wasn't anything that could heal the pain he saw etched across Steve's face.

"The box." Steve's voice was barely audible now. "I know you're curious. You're a detective. It's what you do."

"No, Steve, you don't ha-"

"The box is . . . it's a, uh, birthday gift." The pain was practically dripping from Steve's lips, Danny thought. "For my . . . my mom." Danny knew he was helpless in his attempt to keep his eyebrows from climbing into his hair. "Every year. Every year, I sent a birthday gift. Then . . . then it started being a birthday gift and Mothers' day. I don't know why, God help me, I wish I knew. I never asked dad. What would I say? I didn't want to know. Then I threw in Christmas. A trifecta of days that I would always wonder about."

"But, I don't understand. Why did you send them?" Danny was genuinely confused. "Why not keep them, to help you remember?"

"They weren't mine to keep." Steve replied simply, tears still glossing over his flushe face, "I could never have those days with her again and it was my fault."

"No. Steve, it was Wo-"

"No! Don't you get it Danny? I was supposed to run that errand. I was the one who was supposed to go. But No!" Steve was spitting the words out, each filled with more venom than the last. "I was busy in the fucking bushes with my fucking best friend. My fucking best friend, who was a guy. Who treated me like a . . . a fucking leper after that. Do you see now, Danny? Do see? I did it. I'm the one. I killed my own mother!" Steve pulled his hand from Danny's and pushing his chair back stormed out onto the beach.