The Recovery Period: Chapter Eleven
It had been a long night. Lou was not proud of the fact that he had not managed to make it to the soccer field that night, but it happened and there wasn't anything he could do about it. Lou had been caught up with Kono, looking into possible yakuza activity at the home of Gabriel's late wife. The rest of the night was spent working on an armed robbery – a case he was specifically called in to inspect by the Honolulu PD. When Lou finally got home, he had multiple missed calls from Kono, his wife, and one from Makoa himself. The latter he told himself to remember before he clambered into bed next to his sleeping wife.
He woke up five hours later. The sun was up and despite Lou's obvious exhaustion, he rose and once again grabbed his phone. His wife was in the shower. Running a hand along his face, Lou stared once more at Makoa's missed call before unlocking his phone and pressing it to his ear. It was technically early, but Lou was running on four hours of sleep. This generally made him cranky, and Lou paid no expense making sure people around felt a little of what he was feeling, too.
"Hi, Captain Grover." The voice on the other sounded strained. Perhaps Makoa had been unable to sleep as well.
"Makoa, how are you?" Lou asked, leaving the bedroom as his wife entered it. "I'd like to ask you a few questions."
"About yesterday." Makoa sounded impatient. "I heard Lono called the police."
Actually, that had been Grace Williams. Lou did not correct Makoa.
"Are you going to tell me not to chase after possible murder suspects again?"
"Son, I am not your mother." Lou held back a scoff. A tired Samantha entered the kitchen, rubbing her cheeks and trying to wake up. Lou stood once more and went into the hallway. "But I would suggest, in the future, to wait until you have some officers who can chase suspects with you. How does that sound?"
"Did you even show up?" Makoa asked. "By the time I got back, Lono was home and he said you never came."
"Got held up." Lou admitted. "Listen, I'm on my way over real soon-"
"What's the point?" Makoa interrupted. "She's gone. The car is gone. You'd just go to an empty parking lot and look stupid."
"Well, then." Lou inhaled sharply. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"
"I saw her, man." Makoa breathed out. "It was her. I know it."
"Describe her."
"Dark hair, like I said before. Haole woman. Tall. She was wearing, uh, black pants. Gray shirt. She seemed like forty? In her late forties."
"Where did you see her?" Lou asked as he cataloged the information in his mind. He would write it down once he got to the office.
"She was at Lono's soccer game. I don't know how she knew I would be there."
Unless she was looking for your brother, the thought crossed Lou's mind.
"She just stared at me," Makoa continued. "She wouldn't look away."
"Looked at you how?"
"Like, I don't know, like with a…like she wanted to tell me something." Makoa was clearly flustered. "Which she did."
"What do you mean?"
"She knew more about my boyfriend than I did." Makoa mumbled, voice barely audible over the phone.
"Let's not assume." Lou said automatically. "We don't know much about this woman yet. You get her plates, see what she was driving?"
"Yeah," Makoa cleared his throat. "Yeah, she was driving one of those Chevy ones…the Corolla? White. Older model. I didn't…I didn't get the number. It was a Hawaii license plate. But I didn't get the number."
"We'll see what we can do. You've done a good job, Makoa. We can use this information, you understand? This is good."
"Sure." Makoa's voice was small. "Look, I have to go. I'm going to see Keola's foster parents today."
"Yeah." Lou said, to fill the silence. "Okay. Take it easy, kid. We'll keep you updated."
Hours before, when the moon still held precedent in the sky and Lou had yet to return home, Steve woke up, sweating and confused in a dark room he did not recognize. A few seconds later, Steve remembered he was in the guest room of Rachel and Stan Edwards' home, sleeping in Danny's bed.
Steve had imagined the plane had crashed again, this time with Wo Fat in the cockpit with him. Danny was nowhere to be found. Wo Fat let the plane crash, laughing as Steve struggled to keep pressure on his wound and steer the ship.
His heart racing and pain of his injuries returning to him in a crashing wave, Steve struggled to sit up. He was too hot for the covers anyway. He brushed them aside. With a heaving sigh, Steve ran a hand along the back of his neck. His watch lit up and displayed the time – three a.m. Fine. This was all the sleep Steve would get. No use going back to sleep now and facing another jarred dream.
It took Steve a few tries to push himself off the bed, for it was so comfortable that Steve seemed to sink into the mattress every time. The hospital cot had been hard, and Steve's own bed at his home stayed a constant firmness, like he was used to in the Navy. Comfort during sleep never occurred to him. Sleep was a biological need, and could be achieved many different ways, on many different hard surfaces. Plush mattresses were a luxury, but if Steve spent any more time on this bed he might have to invest in one.
Steve pulled on the sleeveless shirt and pair of shorts he had folded on the end of the bed, careful not to disturb the bandages on his chest, and left the room. His bare feet quietly, slowly, made their way down the steep stairs. Steve held on to the railing tightly.
The couch in the living room was faced away from the stairwell, but Steve could see Danny's blonde hair as he descended the steps. Danny lay on his back, his hands protectively on his chest, over his bandages. There was a blanket draped loosely below his arms, covering his feet. For once, the television was off, but Rachel lived in a busy neighborhood, and the incessant lapping of waves could not be heard. Danny was fast asleep. Steve, once he reached the bottom of the stairs, did not wake his partner. He walked past him and into the kitchen.
The kitchen table was already occupied, this time by Rachel. As her husband had hours before, Rachel was eating a piece of pie. Rachel seemed less interested in the food in front of her, however, than staring blankly at the refrigerator. The fork she held in her hand was clean. The pie was untouched. Her hair was pulled back from her face and in a loose bun. She wore an old shirt that was far too large on her and fell nearly to her knees. Something about a conference in Toledo in 2005. Stan's shirt. Without makeup and with only the pale glow from a street lamp illuminating her face, Rachel looked incredibly worn.
"Can't sleep." Steve said, as much of a question to her as it was a statement by him. Rachel was surprised to see him but pushed back the chair next to her so he could sit down. He did so, gingerly.
"Yes," she finally said quietly when Steve sat down, "I can't either." She paused. "I don't usually sleep through the night."
"No?"
"Not since Charlie was born. Stan's worse than I am. He was the worried Charlie would disappear in the middle of the night when we first took him home from the hospital. He always woke up to check on him." Rachel looked down. "They both sleep through the night, now."
Steve looked away, towards the couch, towards his partner. Danny's chest rose and fell with his even sleep.
Rachel followed Steve's gaze and smiled softly.
"He's glad you're here, Steve." She said.
Steve nodded curtly, turning back to Rachel.
"Steve," she started. "You are feeling all right, aren't you?"
Steve nodded again. Another pause.
"What was he like?" Steve asked. "In New Jersey. When you first met him. What was he like?"
Rachel took in the question, raising her eyebrows with a soft smile. She pushed the plate of pie towards Steve.
"Here," she handed him the fork. "You need this more than I do."
"Rachel-"
"Yeah." Rachel ran a hand along the back of neck to check for stray hairs. Her loose bun was miraculously still intact. "Well, when we first started dating, he was nearly always surrounded by his family. Always. It's so interesting for me to see him now, in Hawaii, separated from his family. He is different than he was in New Jersey. I think he's happier here." Rachel caught Steve's surprised look. "I do." She repeated. "I do, because his family so looked to him for guidance, for everything. He was the oldest child of the oldest child of the oldest child. All of his siblings and cousins went to Danny if they needed anything. His parents and aunts and uncles depended on him to keep the other children in order. People have always depended on Danny; that's how he spent his childhood. The way he put it to me, joining the police force was a natural decision. He could protect his family far better as a cop than as an overprotective relative. Of course, while Danny cared for everyone else, he did not take care of himself. It's no wonder why his claustrophobia and anxiety are so debilitating. No one ever made sure he was okay." She paused again, stood up, and grabbed another fork. She decided to have the pie as well. Steve let her, of course, not really hungry.
"When I married Stan and moved to Hawaii, Danny was a mess." Rachel chewed slowly, speaking quietly. "Hey may have told you some of this. Stan's job transferred him here, it was out of our control. Danny couldn't bear to be away from Grace, but he had never lived more than fifteen minutes from his parents or siblings. The only reason he even agreed to go on a honeymoon out of town was because he was meeting my father."
Steve laughed, surprised. "Danny hung out with his in-laws during your honeymoon?"
"Yes," Rachel laughed, too. "Really, he quite enjoyed it. My mother passed away when I was a child, but my father lives in England. He and I are not particularly close, but I felt he should meet my husband. I felt an obligation to this. He and Danny got on surprisingly well."
"Danny actually liked his in-laws." Steve repeated dumbly. Finally, a cliché Danny didn't fit.
"My father worked constantly when I was growing up. We never made a connection. I went to school in America, in New York. I didn't return to England until then, until the honeymoon. So family was an odd concept to me. Until I met Danny, I really had no idea how families were supposed to work."
"I don't think there's one set way." Steve said evenly, thinking back to his own childhood.
"I suppose." Rachel shrugged. "I really never knew my mother, and my father, he was a painter. He remained in his studio during the day and at night attended social events and museum galas, anything to make his name known. I really resented him when I was a teenager. But Danny, he really took to my father. Did you know-" Rachel laughed at the memory, sitting up straight, "Would you believe a good portion of our honeymoon I spent alone in my childhood bedroom? Danny always insisted on golfing with my father. They would take hours."
"And this marriage didn't work out?" Steve asked sarcastically.
"I should have known then," Rachel smiled sadly. "Anyway, at the time I found it charming. And strange. Mostly strange, I suppose." She took another bite of pie. "Before we left England, Danny tried to convince my father to come to America, so he could be with me. Danny seemed to think it was very important my father and I were near each other. But he said no. His whole life was in England. He couldn't leave. So we left without him, and returned to New Jersey. Years later, you know," Rachel adjusted in her seat, "at the worst of our fighting, Danny said I had no concept of family. The death of my mother couldn't be helped, but my lackluster relationship with my father was a major reason why I was breaking apart our family. I just didn't understand family like he did. He knew it offended me. But we were angry at each other and were searching for words that hurt. I've said more things that I regret to Danny than I can count. I'm sure he feels the same." Rachel looked down. "And then, years later, he moved to Hawaii. He left his entire family to be near a woman who hated him, a man who could care less about him, and his daughter. So he could be a father to Grace.
"He doesn't hate Hawaii, Steve. Really. I think Hawaii is a much better place for him than New Jersey. I often found the city suffocating. Out here, everything is calm. The only thing he hates is being away from his family. He's all right because of Grace, and Charlie, and his friends. His team. You and Chin, Kono…you mean the world to Danny. Don't you realize that?" Rachel asked. "Danny would do anything to protect you."
Steve was silent. He set down his fork and looked back at the sleeping form on the couch. For all Steve thought he knew about Danny, there was so much more he had yet to learn. Steve wouldn't have that opportunity if the plane had truly crashed, like in his dream. If Danny had not protected him, as was his inherent nature. Steve and Danny were ohana.
"I know that now." Steve said, more to himself than to Rachel. "I know now."