Moments: Five0 Oneshots

by Brumeier

Here you will find a random oneshots in the Hawaii Five-0 universe. No telling what they'll be - episode tags, AUs, missing scenes, random bits of fluff, who knows. SLASH is very probable, so be warned, cause I love me some McDanno. Rated M just in case.

11. Steve of the Jungle

Steve of the Jungle

Danny Williams hated his life. More than when he and Rachel were going through the divorce, more than when he had to move from Jersey to Hawaii because Rachel got remarried and took his daughter half way around the world. Nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to being in this godforsaken jungle. He'd lost his backpack, he was pretty sure his ankle was sprained, his whole body felt like one giant bruise, and a headache was pounding away at his temples; he blamed the last on the unusually high altitude and dehydration.

"Find a familiar landmark. Right. Oh, good! There's a tree. That's helpful." Danny stopped walking and took a moment to catch his breath. His t-shirt was soaked with sweat and he was getting a stitch in his side.

The adventure trip had been Gabby's idea, and he tried not to think bad thoughts about his fiancée; it's not like she'd planned for everything to go wrong.

"I love working at the museum," she said earnestly. "But sometimes I just want to scream, it gets so stifling and stagnant in there. I want to go out and do something adventurous."

"I understand that," Danny replied. "But can't we do something adventurous here? Like hang-gliding or boar hunting or touring pineapple farms? For you I would subject myself to pineapple."

Gabby just laughed. "We need to have a real adventure, Danny. You just leave it to me, okay? I'll plan everything. How do you feel about Peru?"

Well, the truth was he didn't think much of Peru right at the moment. Sure, Lima had been fine, and the Cloud Forest had been breathtaking. It was the flash flood that had gotten him, took him down a hill and dumped him into some disease-infested Amazon tributary; he'd nearly drowned before the waters deposited him on a muddy bank in the middle of who-knows-where. He should've stayed on Oahu; he got plenty of excitement just being a cop.

"And I thought Hawaii was too green," he muttered. All around him the jungle was verdant and thick and full of the sound of strange birds and chattering monkeys. He was keeping parallel to the river that had carried him away, certain he'd find some kind of encampment along the shore if he walked far enough. Sure, everyone said the best thing to do when you got lost was to stand still and wait for rescue to come to you, but what if Gabby and the others thought he was dead? Or something had happened to them, too?

Danny shook those unproductive thoughts from his mind. Gabby was fine, and he'd be fine too. So what if his ankle was throbbing in time with his heartbeat? So what if he was too afraid of killer microbes to drink the water? Someone had to be living nearby and he was determined to find them.

Just as he was getting up the energy to move again a low growl froze him in place. Looking cautiously around, he found himself pinned in place by a pair of golden eyes staring at him from a furry, spotted face. Jaguar. Danny's skin flushed with fear as he tried to remember what to do during an encounter such as this. Make noise? Climb a tree? No, that was for bears. Their guide had told them that the big cats mostly stayed away from humans, but this one seemed not to have gotten that memo.

"Hey. Nice kitty." Danny followed the cat with his eyes as it moved, keeping the rest of himself as still as possible. It didn't seem to be coming closer, but it certainly wasn't running the other way either. He really, really hoped he wasn't standing in front of the thing's kittens or something, and wished he had his gun with him.

There was a sudden blur of movement as something seemingly dropped out of the sky in front of Danny. He blinked rapidly until the blur resolved itself into the shape of a man – he was crouched low, his head bowed and arms out wide; he was shirtless and green tattoos swirled down from his shoulders. Despite skin smudged with dirt Danny could tell this wasn't a native, though who or what he was wasn't readily apparent. He wore a raggedy pair of green camouflage pants that had certainly seen better days, and his feet were bare. A large, sheathed knife was strapped to his leg.

"What are you doing?" Danny hissed, trying to get a bead on the jaguar. In response, the stranger reached back and tugged on his shirt. He stumbled down to one knee and found his head being pushed down towards his chest.

"Hey!" he protested, before he realized that the guy wanted him to stop looking at the big cat. Belatedly he recalled something about not looking them in the eye because it was perceived as threatening behavior, and so he stayed there half-kneeling and hoping for the best. Jungle Boy stayed between him and the jaguar until the animal finally decided to move along, and then he turned whip-fast on Danny, staring intently at him.

"So, okay. Thanks for the assist there." Danny pushed himself back to his feet with considerably less fluid grace than the half-dressed man in front of him. "I don't suppose you can direct me towards some people, preferably people with a phone?"

The guy didn't respond at all, except to move cautiously forward. When Danny didn't react, he started patting him all over with slender but dirty hands.

"Hey! Stop that!" Danny poked him in the shoulder.

The other guy jerked back, startled, and then shoved Danny hard in the chest; he landed painfully on his tailbone and cursed.

"What is wrong with you? Is that standard jungle etiquette? Because that's just another thing wrong with this damn place." Danny grimaced. "I think you broke my ass."

The man crouched down and moved forward once more, reaching out until he could touch Danny's knee and then pulling back quickly while he watched with wide, grey-green eyes. This time Danny bit his lip to keep from spooking his new companion, and that only encouraged him to get even closer until he was right in Danny's face.

"You don't have a real good grasp on the concept of personal space, do you? No, I can see you don't." He kept his voice as low and non-threatening as possible because clearly this guy wasn't all there. "Do you speak English? ¿Hablas inglés?"

But the guy just kept prodding at Danny until he got annoyed and very slowly moved until he had the guy's head between his hands. The stranger's eyes widened in alarm but he made no move to pull away.

"I need you to focus here, Tarzan, can you do that? I need to get to a phone, or civilization, or both. Is any of this getting through?"

Danny stared and the man just stared back, looking somehow terrified but not like he was really grasping the point of the conversation. Figures he'd stumble on the one non-verbal guy in the whole rainforest. Danny dropped his gaze, noticing for the first time that while this guy wasn't wearing a shirt he was wearing something much more informative: dog tags.

Releasing his hold on the guy's head, he reached out with one hand and held up the dog tags so he could read them before the guy could pull away. McGarrett, Steven J, followed by his social security number and a USN designation; this guy was in the Navy. Danny took a closer look at his new-found friend, who was still watching him with wide eyes.

"How long have you been here?" he asked, not expecting a reply. If he was active Navy, it had been a while; his brown hair hung in sloppy waves over his forehead, a far cry from what Danny assumed was the typical military issue haircut, and his face was pretty scruffy. There was a thick, ugly scar running from just behind his ear and around the back of his skull, and that surely had to be the cause of his apparent mental impairment.

"Steven?" Danny reached out slowly and patted the other man on the chest. "Is that you? Steven McGarrett?"

Jungle Boy continued to watch him, though his brow furrowed a bit as if he was pondering the question. Danny felt like an idiot, but he really needed to be able to communicate with this guy. They both needed to find a way out of this jungle.

"You're Steven. Can I call you Steve?" Danny pulled his hand back and patted himself on the chest. "I'm Danny. You Steve, me Danny. Jesus, what am I doing? I sound like a lunatic."

He started to turn away, and then Steve reached out and tapped him on the chest with his fingers, smiling. Danny couldn't help but return his smile, even as he wondered if the head injury had anything to do with Steve not talking. As if he needed another reason to feel bad for the guy.

"That's right. I'm Danny. And I need to go home. Can you help me get home?" He spoke slowly, as if to a very young child. "Home?"

Steve cocked his head, as if considering, and then nodded sharply and just started walking away. Hope rose anew in Danny and he hobbled after the other man as fast as he could. He hated losing sight of the river, but surely the Jungle Man of Peru knew his way around. He wondered what had happened to Steven J. McGarrett that he ended up alone here, unable to speak and living like a native. How had he survived a head wound that, judging by the scar, had been incredibly nasty? Danny was sure answers wouldn't be forthcoming from his silent friend.

It didn't take long for him to begin falling behind. His body had been put through the wringer and he just didn't have it in him to make it much further. Losing sight of the river had been bad enough, but he started to panic when he lost sight of Steve as well.

"Hey! Hey, Steve!" Danny shouted. There was no reply and he closed his eyes for a moment while he tried to catch his breath. He'd never wanted a bottle of water so badly in his life. When he opened his eyes again he stumbled back a step or two, startled. Steve, who apparently had some ninja Navy skills, had returned silently and was all up in his personal space again. He looked worried.

"Could you please not do that?" Danny ran a hand over his face, scraping off the sweat. "Look, I need to just…I can't keep going right now, okay?"

He looked down to make sure he wasn't going to be sitting on some sort of spiny jungle creature before sinking down and stretching his legs out; the ankle was throbbing worse than ever, and was painfully swollen inside his hiking boot. Steve shook his shaggy head, tapping himself on the chest and then pointing deeper into the jungle.

"I…can't…walk," Danny said slowly. He pointed to his ankle and made a face the he hoped expressed the concept of pain. Steve's eyes narrowed and Danny half expected to see smoke coming out of his ears from thinking so hard. Then he nodded and before Danny even knew what was happening he'd been lifted up into a fireman's carry.

"What…you…put me down, you Neanderthal!" He smacked at Steve's hip and received only a huffed breath in response. Just when he thought he'd reached the peak of humiliation he had to suffer in one day, now he was being carried around like a sack of potatoes.

"I'm not a damn damsel in distress! Animal!" Danny raved, pointless though it may be. "You can't just go grabbing people and throwing them over your shoulder like a…like some…you just can't! How long have you been out in the jungle, that you don't know this? Is it some Navy thing? Because this is not normal behavior. Are you even listening to me?"

It turned out that yelling at someone lost a lot of the entertainment value when that person failed to respond in any way, and so Danny forced himself to relax a bit and tried not to mind being bounced around so much. He took a moment to marvel at the strength Steve had to carry him like this and not even be out of breath; probably he was some kind of covert ops guy and this was all second nature for him.

Unbelievably, despite the awkward position and constant jostling, Danny drifted off. He woke disoriented and stiff as Steve slid him off his shoulders and on to the ground. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, and at first couldn't make out what he was looking at. One thing was clear – his mute new friend hadn't taken him to a village of any kind.

"What is that? Is that a plane?"

It certainly seemed to be, overgrown with vegetation though it was. Danny could make out one busted wing and the cockpit. To his unschooled eye it looked like some kind of cargo plane and he couldn't even begin to speculate how long it had been here in the jungle. He was absolutely certain, however, that Steve had misinterpreted what he'd been asking.

"Hey. Steve. What is this?"

The other man crouched down, tapping himself in the chest and then pointing to the downed plane. Danny watched this little pantomime for a long minute before he finally got the message.

"Okay. Alright. You took me to your home. And it's very nice, don't get me wrong, but I need to go to my home. I need a phone."

Steve frowned and it was obvious that he'd expected a different reaction. He moved off and around the side of the plane where Danny couldn't see him. Danny considered his options, and laughed at himself for thinking he even had any. He couldn't find his way back to the river on his own, especially with his ankle all messed up. But he couldn't just hang out here either, not indefinitely anyway. Maybe just a day, he decided. Let the ankle rest enough that he could maybe walk on it tomorrow.

He looked up when he heard Steve coming back, amused to see the other man juggling an arm full of fruit. Danny didn't recognize all of it, but he could pick out the palm fruit and papayas. The bounty was dropped at his feet and Steve crouched down, pulled out his knife, and started hacking into a palm fruit. Danny's stomach grumbled in anticipation, even though he normally wasn't one to try new foods; he was so hungry right now he didn't care what the hell it was, so long as it was edible.

Steve handed him a chunk of the yellow-orange pulp and Danny stuffed it in his mouth, making appreciative noises at both the taste and the small amount of juice that ran down his parched throat. Thus encouraged, Steve cut the rest of the palm fruit up, handing it to Danny a piece at a time. Next came some very juicy purplish berries that tasted a bit like cherries. By the time he finished those he was feeling a whole lot better, and put his hand over Steve's to stop him from slicing up a papaya.

"I'm good. Thank you. No more."

Steve cocked his head to the side, considering, then nodded. He wiped the blade of the knife on his pants and then gathered up the remaining fruit and carried it off. Danny got to his feet, hissing at the pain in his ankle, and hobbled over to the plane. Around the side, where Steve had disappeared, was a gaping hole that must've been torn during the crash. He pulled himself up and in, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light inside.

His assessment of it being a cargo plane turned out to be correct. In fact, there were still some wooden crates strapped in near the door to the cockpit. The rest of the space was covered with creeping vines, what might once have been a parachute, and a small camouflage pack. What he didn't see was Steve.

"Steve? Hey, Tarzan, where'd you go?" Danny poked his head back out the hole and there was Steve, very carefully carrying a dented tin cup with both hands. "Whatcha got there, buddy?"

Danny accepted the cup, which was filled to the brim with water. Oh, but he wanted to chug it down! He knew at some point he'd have to drink something, but the fear of getting some foreign bug was still too strong. Steve held his palm up, indicating that Danny should drink.

"I can't. It's not safe, this water." How to explain microbes to Tarzan? "There's…things that live in the water. It'll make me sick."

Danny tried to pantomime getting sick, which for some reason only made Steve huff out a breath that might have been a laugh. He pointed up at the sky, then wiggled his fingers in a downward motion.

"It's rainwater?" Danny asked, repeating the movement. "Rain?"

Steve put his fingers on the bottom of the cup and pushed it up to Danny's mouth in reply.

"Okay, okay. No need to get pushy, pal." Closing his eyes and saying a quick prayer against intestinal parasites, Danny drank the water. It tasted as good as he thought it would, better even. "Is there more? More?"

Steve grinned and took possession of the cup, disappearing into the greenery and then coming back a minute later with another full cup. Danny downed that one a little more slowly, savoring it.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. He handed the cup back. Steve motioned for him to stay put and quickly ducked inside the plane. Seconds later he was back, taking hold of Danny's hand and pulling him away, deeper into the jungle.

"Where are we going?"

Steve made a hand gesture that he couldn't interpret, so he just sighed and hobbled along. He figured he owed his new friend for feeding him, and carrying him all the way here. They didn't go very far, just to a stream of swiftly moving water, and Steve pushed Danny down so that he was sitting beside it.

"This better not be your water source, pal, not after all that wiggly rain stuff you laid on me."

His only response was a toothy grin, and then Steve was fumbling with the laces on Danny's boot.

"What're you…okay, back off, you're just making knots." Danny swatted Steve's hands away and undid the laces himself. Pulling his swollen ankle out of the boot was incredibly painful, but then there was a small amount of relief when it wasn't being constricted anymore. Steve very carefully took hold of Danny's leg by the calf and stuck his foot into the cool water of the stream.

Danny closed his eyes and leaned back on his hands, sighing at the feel of the water on his hot, swollen skin. He supposed this was as good as it got, in lieu of painkillers. He was going to have to revise his position on his companion's mental capacity. Steve might be slow in some areas, but in others he was right on the money.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when the subject of his suppositions suddenly slipped behind him, his legs alongside Danny's and his dirty bare feet in the stream. Steve wrapped his arms around Danny's waist and rested his chin on Danny's shoulder, sighing happily.

"Um…" He tensed up and sincerely hoped that Jungle Boy wasn't looking for some jungle love here. But Steve didn't do anything further, and Danny let himself relax just a little. Maybe the guy was just lonely, and he wondered again how long he'd been living out here like a wild man.

The exertion of the day caught up with him, and soon he was leaning back, his head resting against Steve's so that little puffs of warm air blew against his ear. Danny thought maybe this was all just a dream, brought on by strange foreign food, and he'd wake up back at the hotel in Lima with Gabby; they'd laugh about his crazy subconscious and maybe do a little necking before falling back to sleep.

"Just a crazy dream," Danny muttered. He fell asleep with Steve humming softly against his shoulder.

*o*o*o*

Dusk had fallen when Danny woke again; he could see the change in light through the hole in the side of the plane. Somehow he'd slept through Steve carrying him back to his ersatz home and settling him in a little nest made from some kind of leafy greenery, the parachute he'd seen earlier, a thick wool blanket, and the torn remains of a camouflage shirt.

Danny stretched, taking stock of himself. His ankle was feeling much better after the long, cool soak it had. It should really be wrapped, but he didn't think he had much chance of finding a handy ace bandage out here. He was hungry, thirsty, and really need to relieve himself; the last would be easy enough to remedy once he got himself up and out. There was no sign of Steve, but he wasn't worried.

He got gingerly to his feet, trying not to put too much pressure on the twisted ankle. He hopped his way to the hole and levered himself out into the jungle. Once he'd taken care of nature's business he went back inside the plane, curious about the cargo. The old crates were far from sturdy and it wasn't hard to pry the lid off the closest one.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Scotch. Bottles and bottles of Scotch. Not any rot-gut stuff either, but top shelf Glen Livet. Danny pulled a bottle out, looking at it almost reverently. Lost in the middle of the damn Amazon and he could drown himself in the kind of alcohol he'd never be able to afford back home. Another crate contained imported Beluga caviar and yeah, no; Danny didn't think he'd ever be that hungry. Unlike the Scotch, he wasn't sure what the shelf life for fish eggs was.

"What is this, some rich guy's party plane?"

With the bad ankle limiting his movement, he was only able to reach one more crate and was fully prepared to uncover tins of patè or something like that. He wasn't expecting a crate full of vinyl record albums. With an amused grin he sat on the caviar box and flipped through the selections. Lots of Big Band stuff – Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman – plus Bing Crosby, the Andrews Sisters, Pat Boone, Frank Sinatra, Lawrence Welk and other 40s and 50s singers and bands. Danny felt like he'd uncovered a time capsule and wished he had a record player.

He became aware of noises from outside the plane, and put the records away. He grabbed a bottle of Scotch and did his hop-hobble back outside. Steve was there, starting a fire and skewering something on a stick; it looked vaguely bird-like and he chose not to think too hard about what it might have been, so long as it was edible.

"Hey, Steve. Look what I found!" Danny held the bottle aloft. Steve just looked at him. "You probably won't appreciate this, but I've got some Scotch here that has to be at least ninety years old."

He settled himself down next to the fire and twisted the cap off the bottle. He sniffed it appreciatively before tipping it back and taking a quick swallow. The whisky burned pleasantly down his throat and into his stomach.

"Oh, yeah. That's good." Danny shook the bottle at Steve, offering him some, but the other man seemed less than impressed. He also sniffed at the bottle, then took the smallest possible sip at Danny's insistence. He immediately started coughing, pulling the funniest face that Danny had ever seen. Clearly he was not a fan of finely-aged whisky.

"That's okay, Tarzan. It's an acquired taste." He helped himself to another swallow, sighing happily. "I just might survive this jungle after all."

Steve tapped him on the arm to get his attention, then pointed at the two medium-sized bird carcasses he had sitting over the fire. He mimed eating, bringing his hand to his mouth several times.

"Eat," Danny translated. "Yes, that's good. I could eat. Has to be better than caviar, right? Not as good as pizza, though. Or malasadas. Boy, could I go for a bag of those right now. Grease and all."

Something about that seemed to sharpen Steve's attention and he patted Danny on the chest.

"What? What did I say?"

He made the sign for eating again.

"What? Food? Pizza? Do you remember eating pizza?"

Steve looked frustrated, pulling his bottom lip in under his teeth. He shook his head.

"Malasadas?" Danny guessed. "Is that it?"

That was clearly the right answer, because Steve's whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. Which meant…what? That he was familiar with that particular type of pastry? He wondered where else you could get malasadas besides Hawaii. And then Danny had a glimmer of an idea that seemed too incredible to be believed. There was no way. What were the odds?

"Steve? Aloha."

Another huge grin, and then Steve made the shaka sign with his hand. Danny just gaped at him. It was true.

"You're that Steven McGarrett?" Former HPD Detective John McGarrett's son, missing and presumed dead during a classified SEAL mission. The older McGarrett was well-known to everyone on the force. He'd been a good cop once, but now he was a bitter man who drank too much and subscribed to some outlandish conspiracy theories. Danny tried to remember how long his son had been missing; he thought it was at least two years.

"This is unbelievable." He took another shot from the whisky bottle. "I mean, really, this is stretching coincidence, don't you think? Both of us from Hawaii ending up here in the jungle like two years apart? I knew I should've stayed in Jersey. Stuff like this never happens in Jersey."

Steve was still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He crawled around the fire and hugged Danny, the much taller man wrapping around him like an octopus.

"Okay. Remember personal space? I need some of that back." Danny pushed at Steve with his elbow, getting him to back up a foot or so. Unfortunately that took his happy grin away too, which made him feel a little guilty. He didn't know how much Steve was able to process, but clearly he'd been thrilled to hear reminders from home. It wasn't his fault he was so touchy-feely after living out in the jungle alone so long.

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just not used to all the hugging, okay?" He tried to remember the little bit of Hawaiian he'd picked up in the year he'd been living on the Islands. "Uh…kala mai."

Steve studied him, then crept close enough to drop his head on Danny's shoulder. Danny suppressed a sigh. What was he going to do with this guy? Without even thinking his hand came up and started to stroke Steve's hair, soothing him like he would do Grace. He lost track of time, and he was fairly certain his silent friend had fallen asleep, when the scent of cooked poultry reached him from the fire.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty." Danny patted Steve on the back of the head. "Time to eat."

Steve went from zero to sixty instantaneously, checking on the cooked birds and zipping off for another cupful of water. It had turned full dark by that time, and Danny wasn't ashamed to say that he was worried about the animals that might be out there hunting. Sure, Tarzan had his big knife, but a gun would've made him feel more secure.

Whatever kind of birds had been sacrificed for their dinner mattered very little to Danny. He ate his embarrassingly fast, noting as he did so that the meat was tender if a little pink. Steve ate far more slowly, clearly savoring every bite. When the last bit of meat had been eaten and the small bones tossed in the fire, he produced another palm fruit to share with Danny.

"Dessert, too? Very nice." Danny accepted his half. "Mahalo."

That earned him another blinding grin, and he couldn't help but smile back. Steve McGarrett was an interesting mix of ability and innocence, his face sometimes completely blank and other times his eyes would telegraph incredible intelligence. He had such an open nature, too, not something Danny would've expected from a Navy SEAL.

Steve leaned over and tapped Danny on the chest, looking at him expectantly.

"What?"

Another tap, and then he tapped himself on the chest.

"Danny. And Steve."

Steve nodded encouragingly, tapping Danny again.

"Danny."

Steve's eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together. A low rumbling came from his throat and Danny suddenly understood that his new friend was attempting to speak. He held his breath, leaning forward just a bit in anticipation. He wanted to offer encouragement, but didn't want to say anything to distract the other man. In the end it turned out not to matter; Steve never got beyond some frustrated grunting.

"Hey, don't worry about it, Steve. Honestly, it's fine. We're communicating pretty well, right?" Danny put a comforting hand on his arm. "Don't push yourself. You don't want to rush things."

Steve looked incredibly crestfallen. He cleared up the remainder of the fruit and gestured to Danny to take care of any pressing business he had before the fire was put out. Danny did so, and hobble-hopped back into the plane while there was still a little bit of light to guide him. He stood by the little nest/bed that he'd woken up in earlier, waiting.

The fire was extinguished, and the darkness was absolute. Danny was conscious of every noise beyond the safety of the cargo plane, every sound somehow magnified and vaguely ominous. He was startled when Steve grabbed him by the elbow; among his other skills apparently he could see in the dark. He pulled them both down on top of the parachute and covered Danny carefully with the blanket. The make-shift, leafy mattress didn't distract at all from the hard metal surface beneath them, and Danny spared a moment of longing for his bed back home.

He could feel Steve beside him, curled up into as tight a ball as his long limbs would allow. Is that how he always slept? It didn't seem very comfortable. There was a snuffling sound in the dark that he couldn't process immediately, but when he finally did he moved to cover Steve's back, drawing the blanket over both of them. The other man shuddered, the only other outward sign that he was crying.

"Shh, it's okay Steve." Feeling only slightly awkward, Danny put an arm around his companion's waist and held on tight. "Please don't cry. Men aren't supposed to cry, it undermines our inherent masculinity. Well, under certain circumstances it's allowable, I guess. I cried when Grace was born. I may have shed a tear or two when the Yankees won the '96 World Series. And if you tell anyone this I'll deny it with my dying breath, but some movies have been known to make me cry."

He was glad to notice that his running monologue seemed to have done the trick; Steve had stopped crying and wasn't so tightly curled up. Danny yawned. Even though he'd had a nap in the middle of the day, he was exhausted.

"Get some sleep, Tarzan. Tomorrow we need to start looking for civilization. I'm gonna treat you to a great big bag of malasadas when we get back to Hawaii, okay?"

There was no response from Steve, who had already fallen asleep. Despite the uncomfortable bed and the unconventional sleeping arrangements, Danny wasn't far behind. As he drifted off with another man in his arms, he had the fleeting realization that he'd barely given Gabby a thought since Steve literally dropped into his life.

*o*o*o*

Gabby was in the forefront of Danny's mind when he woke early the next morning. He felt vaguely guilty, even though Steve was already up and out doing whatever wild jungle men did first thing in the morning; probably marking his territory. He knew she was probably frantic with worry for him, and he'd barely spared her a thought the day before. She'd probably already organized an extensive search and rescue; Gabby was a take-charge kind of woman.

Truth was, he'd been thinking a lot about her, and about the two of them as a couple, over the last month or so. They had a lot of fun together, and he loved her, he really did, but he was starting to think he maybe didn't love her enough; maybe it was more just a case of him not wanting to be alone anymore, and that was not a good basis for a relationship. When she'd suggested this trip, he'd seen it as an opportunity to decide how he really felt once and for all. Of course, he hadn't counted on getting lost. Then again, maybe that was the sign he'd been waiting for.

Danny rolled onto his back and threw his arm over his face. Bad ankle or no, he and Steve needed to find a way out of this jungle. He wanted to get back to Grace, and the desire to return John McGarrett's prodigal son to Hawaii was becoming a stronger impulse all the time.

He heard Steve come in, despite the man's propensity for ninja stealth, but didn't move his arm. He was trying to think of a way to convey the idea of civilization and other people. Surely Steve knew where they could find a native settlement at the very least; there was no way he'd survived on his own after his head injury.

"Da-neeee."

That snapped him right out of his reverie. Danny flung his arm to the side and looked up at Steve, mouth hanging open.

"What did you say?"

Steve grinned and poked him in the chest. "Da-neeee."

Danny sat up, grinning right back at him. "See, I knew you could do it! Didn't I say you could do it?" There was no reason for him to feel so proud of his new friend's accomplishment, but that didn't stop him from feeling it. He didn't even complain when he found himself pulled into a big bear hug, slapping Steve enthusiastically on the back.

"As one word vocabularies go, you picked an excellent one," he said, moving back to put some space between them again.

Still grinning, Steve reached around and grabbed the small pack Danny had noticed the day before. From its depths he produced a toothbrush that had definitely seen better days, and a tube of toothpaste that was squeezed flat. He offered both to Danny, who reluctantly accepted them.

"I'd just like to go on the record here as saying that I don't normally share personal hygiene products. That's…fairly nasty, actually. But since these are special circumstances…thanks. I mean, mahalo."

Steve patted Danny on the head, bringing to his attention the fact that what he really needed was a shower; he didn't want to contemplate what his hair must look like right now. He followed Steve out to the stream, his ankle a bit less painful. He was made to sit on the ground and soak his foot again while his new friend went off to procure another cup of water. He quickly brushed his teeth, not giving too much thought to the provenance of the toothbrush; there wasn't any toothpaste left in the tube.

"Oh, hell no." Danny stared up at Steve when he came back. He was holding the cup full of water in both hands, and had a monkey sitting on his shoulder, tail curled around his neck. It looked like the kind of monkey from the movie Outbreak, which didn't ease his mind at all.

"Don't you think you're carrying this Tarzan thing a little too far?"

Steve sat beside him, careful not to spill the water, and handed him the cup. Danny took it, keeping a wary eye on the monkey. His new friend dangled his feet in the stream and pet the primate on his shoulder.

"Da-neeee."

"Steve."

"Da-neeee," he said again, and patted the ground. There was a very serious look in his grey-green eyes and Danny struggled to understand what it was he was trying to express.

"Danny, that's right."

More patting of the ground, and he tried not to be distracted by the monkey, which was picking idly at Steve's hair.

"The ground? Here. We're here?"

Steve grunted, clearly frustrated. He wrapped his arms around Danny and clung tightly to him, dislodging the monkey which chattered in irritation before shooting up the nearest tree. Danny patted him on the forearm, the only place he could reach with his own arms pinned to his sides.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I just don't know what you want." He was reminded of Grace before she started talking; there were many times that his interactions with her ended in her frustrated tears because he didn't understand what she'd been trying to convey.

"Da-neeee," Steve sighed.

"I know, buddy. You'll get there. But listen, while I have your undivided attention I need to talk to you about something." Danny squirmed in Steve's arms, trying to get a bit more comfortable, but the hold on him only tightened further and he gave it up for the moment. "We need to find some people, Steve. I need to go home. My home. We can't stay…"

Steve immediately released him and nodded emphatically, back to slapping his hand on the ground. For good measure he also patted Danny on the chest. And suddenly he understood.

"You want me to stay?"

Danny was rewarded with a bright smile, the one that made Steve look like a young boy. He felt unexpectedly pleased that the other man wanted him to stay there in the jungle, but knew he'd have to disappoint him. There was no question of not returning to Hawaii, to Grace. And Gabby, he added belatedly. He put his hand on Steve's bare chest, fingers splayed.

"Mahalo, Steve. But we can't stay here. You and me, we have to go home. To Hawaii. You remember Hawaii?"

Steve's smile dimmed and he tipped his head to the side, brow furrowed as he tried to understand what he was being asked.

"Remember we talked about malasadas yesterday? When we get home we can have those. We can go to the beach. Your dad…he says you like to swim and surf. Do you remember your dad? Uh…makua?"

Steve sucked on his bottom lip, and gave Danny a lopsided shrug. He wasn't sure quite how to interpret that.

"Steve and Danny have to go home. You and me. Do you want to come home with me, Steve?"

Something there seemed to click, and Danny was rewarded with a tentative nod. Then he had a lap full of Navy SEAL, Steve clinging to him like barnacle. Danny rubbed his back, chuckling.

"I'll take that as a yes. You've been out here a long time, Steve, I know you know where we can go. And we'll stick together, right? Me and Tarzan, fighting our way out of the jungle. Although I guess that would make me Jane, so maybe not."

He kept absently rubbing Steve's back while he thought of everything they'd have to do to get back home. Finding civilization was only the first step. He'd lost his identification, including his passport, and he was pretty sure Steve didn't have his either. So who then to call? There was the Navy to consider as well. They'd somehow lost Steve during a mission, and would likely want to debrief him before they'd let him go anywhere. Not that they'd get much out of him.

Danny was jostled out of his thoughts when Steve pulled back and mimed eating, watching him expectantly. He nodded and made the same motions back to him, rubbing his stomach for good measure. Steve flashed him a grin and went bounding off, hopefully for some fruit; Danny wasn't sure he was up to eating anything too exotic first thing in the morning.

Breakfast turned out to be barbequed snake and papayas, not something Danny ever envisioned that he'd be eating. He had no idea what kind of snake it was, not that Steve could tell him anyway, and chose not to think about it at all. Just imagine bacon, he told himself. He ate fast, impatient to get the show on the road and leave the damned jungle behind him, but of course Steve seemed extra slow; probably he was afraid to leave, and Danny couldn't blame him for that.

"It's okay, Steve," he said, putting a hand on the other man's arm. "We'll stick together, right? Danny and Steve?"

Steve gave him a tentative smile. "Danny."

"That's right. You're really getting the hang of that." Danny made himself eat until he was full, refusing to acknowledge that the snake actually hadn't tasted all that bad. When Steve had finished as well he disappeared inside the plane and came out moments later with the tattered remains of his shirt, and the pack which Danny immediately snatched so he could look through it. Inside was the toothbrush and empty toothpaste tube, a rusted razor, an almost full bottle of aspirin, the wool blanket and tin cup, and a Glock that was all out of ammo.

"Not sure how much help that's gonna be," Danny muttered, but when he tried to take it out of the pack Steve shoved it back in with a frown. "Okay, okay. We'll take it. Jeez, don't get your jungle panties in a bunch."

Steve set about tearing the shirt into strips, and then wrapped them tightly around Danny's swollen ankle, keeping all the knots in front so he could still get his boot on, if not properly laced. Danny supposed he shouldn't be surprised by that; he'd probably learned battlefield triage in the Navy.

"Okay, give me a hand up," Danny said, holding his arm up. Steve pulled him until he was standing, and he tried to keep the minimum amount of pressure on his ankle. "This is gonna be slow going."

"Danny," Steve said, patting him on the chest.

"What's up?"

Steve slipped on the pack, patted him again and then went off into the jungle. Danny assumed he was meant to stay put, so he did. In his head he was plotting out explanations to make when they found people. He was particularly concerned with how to explain Steve to Gabby; would she understand all his touchy-feeliness? He was surprised at the protective feeling that welled up inside him at the thought of anyone doing anything to hurt Steve. That would simply not be acceptable, not even from Gabby.

Of course, all that took a backseat when Steve came back, carrying a long piece of wood in one hand and what looked suspiciously like a camelbak water carrier in the other.

"You big jerk, did you have that all this time?" Danny grabbed it out of his hands, felt the weight of it that indicated it was full. "Why the hell did you carry around that little cup when you had a whole bag?"

Steve's eyes widened and he took a step back, and Danny mentally slapped himself. It wasn't like the guy was purposely holding out on him, he was likely just holding on to it for longer excursions or something. He held his hand out in a placating gesture.

"I'm sorry. Kala mai. I'm not mad at you, okay? You just surprised me."

Steve didn't look convinced and Danny sighed. Sometimes it was easy to forget that his new friend didn't operate with a full deck all the time, and allowances needed to be made.

"Danny is sorry," he said and tried to make sure he had an appropriately contrite expression on his face. "Very, very sorry."

He was submitted to a lengthy stare, and then Steve grinned. He moved right into Danny's personal space as usual, but instead of the clingy hug that Danny had come to expect he got a wet kiss on his forehead instead. He tried not to let on how weird that made him feel, and tried even harder not to think about any of the ways in which it actually wasn't weird at all. Steve handed him the wood and he saw now that it was a thick branch that had been fashioned into a walking stick.

"Did you do this for me?" he asked, absurdly touched that Steve had gone to the trouble to make the hike a little easier on him. "Mahalo."

Steve nodded excitedly, narrowed his eyes a bit, and then added a new word to his tiny speaking vocabulary. "Ma-halo."

Danny couldn't help returning his grin, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, Chatty Cathy. Let's get out of here."

*o*o*o*

As Danny had suspected, the going was slow. Even with the walking stick he had to stop regularly to rest and catch his breath. The humidity was so thick he could practically chew the air, and his shirt was saturated with sweat and sticking to him in a very uncomfortable way. He kept envisioning a nice, hot shower. None of that seemed to bother Steve, who was acclimated to the environment.

Danny thought that Steve would get impatient with the pace, but he didn't seem to mind. Occasionally he'd go loping off to scout up ahead, but he always came back and walked beside Danny, looking him over each time to make sure he was okay. If he didn't like what he saw he insisted that they sit for a few minutes and he'd push the water on Danny, who had the camelbak slung over his shoulder.

"You too," Danny insisted after Steve kept turning down his chance for a drink. "Don't make me use force on you, Tarzan, just drink some water."

Steve sighed but did as he was instructed, and Danny watched closely to be sure he actually drank and didn't just fake it; he'd been a father too long to be susceptible to stuff like that.

"I can't wait to see what Grace makes of you," he remarked, flexing his ankle just a little and wincing as he did so. "I didn't tell you about her. She's my daughter. Nine years old and smart as a whip. She's a great kid."

Steve cocked his head as he listened, making that face again that Danny had decided to call Deep Thoughts. He took Danny's left hand in his and examined his fingers, poking at them lightly as he did so. "Danny?"

"I'm not married. Divorced, actually. Rachel, that's my ex-wife, she remarried and moved to Hawaii. That's why I'm there, so I can be close to Grace."

"Danny," Steve said, and gave him such a soft, affectionate look that Danny actually felt himself blushing.

"Come on, you big goof." He used the walking stick to lever himself up, and Steve kept hold of his hand until he had his balance. Which was ironic, because there was something about Steve that kept throwing him off balance, psychologically speaking. It was going to be a long day.

*o*o*o*

It was late afternoon and Danny was exhausted. At some point during the hike through the jungle he'd abandoned the walking stick and used Steve instead, the other man lending his strength to help Danny stay upright and moving. They'd found a trail a couple hours ago, which had made the going a bit easier all around. And then he saw a young boy watching them curiously a few feet ahead.

"Hey. Hey! Steve, look."

But of course he'd already seen, and stopped walking. He held his hands out, trying to look non-threatening Danny supposed, and the boy's eyes widened.

"Takana blanco!"

Danny only had a minimal knowledge of Spanish, enough to know that blanco meant white. He wasn't sure about the other word, but he hadn't thought the kid's eyes could get any wider until he took a few hesitant steps forward and got a better look at Danny's face.

"Da-nay!"

"Okay. That's weird." And really, Danny'd had his fill of weird for a while. It was likely a coincidence, anyway. Surely there were plenty of Spanish words that sounded like his name but meant something completely different, like avocado or something. Before he could ask for help, the boy had turned tail and run, disappearing.

Danny and Steve looked at each other, and Danny just shrugged. "We should just keep heading this way, I guess."

They continued forward slowly. The bad ankle wasn't taking kindly to all the walking, but there was nothing to do but keep on pushing because stopping wouldn't get them assistance. Danny could tell his companion was concerned, judging by the frequent furrowed-brow glances and the tight grip around his waist.

"It's okay, Steve. That kid has to live somewhere, right? So, we'll find his village or whatever and then we can rest." The idea of sitting and taking off his boot was glorious. "Then we can get a message out, even if it's by jungle drums. I don't much care at this point."

Danny hoped the village was close because he didn't have much left in him. The more he limped, the more his hip hurt from the awkward gait. It was starting to move up into his back now, too, and wasn't that just great? He was pretty sure once he sat down he wasn't getting back up again. Ever.

"Danny." Steve's vocabulary was small, but he could fit a lot into one word and right now he sounded worried.

"No, no stopping now. You'll never get me up again, I promise you." Danny closed his eyes briefly as they trudged onward; he was so tired he thought he could fall asleep mid-stride.

"Da-nay!"

His eyes popped open to find that they'd somehow drawn a crowd of children, ten at least, all of them grinning as they came forward and touched him. Steve stiffened up next to him, making a sound between a grunt and a growl, and Danny patted him on the back.

"Stand down, Magilla Gorilla. It's okay." Danny reached out and reeled in the oldest looking child. "¿Nos puedes ayudar?"

"Nuestro pueblo está cerca," was the cheery reply.

"Okay," Danny said for Steve's benefit. "We must not be too far from their village. Their home."

Steve just stared at him, clearly confused.

"It's Spanish. They speak Spanish. Well, and so do I. Just a little, though. Enough to get by, obviously." He knew he was babbling, but the thought of finally getting off his ankle, which was shooting pain up his leg, was making him dizzy with relief. Steve shrugged and then glared at the children, who promptly scattered with childish screams and wide grins.

"Such a charmer," Danny chuckled.

The village was only another five minutes of hobbling away, and he'd never been happier to see rustic huts and campfires in his life. The adults were just as welcoming as the children and soon had Danny reclining on a woven mat on the floor of one of their homes. He was plied with water and fish, and tried not to bite through his lip when Steve eased the boot off his injured foot.

An older woman with sleek dark hair and equally dark eyes squatted down in front of him and clucked her tongue at how swollen and discolored the ankle was. "We send for doctor."

"You speak English?" Danny was relieved. His Spanish wasn't going to hold out forever. "Are we talking a doctor-doctor, or some kind of witch doctor? Because honestly, at this point I'll take either one."

"American doctor," the woman qualified with a smile. "Next village. He come soon."

Steve hovered at Danny's side, his expression distrustful. The woman nodded at him. "Takana blanco. You are well."

"You know him?"

"Sí. He comes, much sick. We heal him." She offered Steve some food as well but he just shook his head. "He not come back much long time."

"Thank you," Danny said in all sincerity. "Thank you for helping him."

The woman smiled, then turned towards the door where the children were all gathered, trying to see in. "Buscar la bolsa."

There was some shuffling and murmuring in the doorway, and then Danny's mouth gaped open when his backpack was handed through and dropped in his lap. It was battered and torn in some places, but mostly intact. Steve eyed it with interest.

"We know you, from picture." The woman tapped the front pocket of the bag, where Danny kept his passport. "Da-nay Weelums."

"This is unbelievable." He opened the bag up and rooted around inside. His cell phone had been protected from his unexpected swim thanks to the ziploc bag it was sealed in, but there was no cell service available when he turned it on. Steve was eyeing it with interest, so Danny passed it over his shoulder to him and kept digging. He pulled out a couple Hershey bars, also sealed in plastic – thank God Gabby had been so insistent on that! – and handed them to the woman.

"For the kids," he said. "It's chocolate."

It almost started a riot, but did send the children off as they pushed and shoved for a piece. Danny set the bag aside and rubbed his face wearily. He wished he'd been carrying the first aid kit instead of Gabby, because he really could have used an aspirin right about now. Whoever this American doctor was, he needed to pick up the pace.

"Danny?" Steve held the phone out to him. Somehow he'd managed to access the photo files and pull up a picture of Grace. Danny grinned.

"That's my daughter. Remember we talked about her? Grace?"

"Danny's," was the hesitant reply.

"That's right. Grace is Danny's. I'm her dad."

Steve patted himself on the chest. "Danny's?"

Danny couldn't help the fond grin that spread across his face. "Danny's," he confirmed, nodding. There was a lump in his throat.

He'd expected one of Steve's big grins, but instead the man just buried his face in Danny's shoulder, huddling close to him.

"He is long time alone," the woman said. She'd taken a seat on a nearby stool.

"He's not alone anymore," Danny said, one hand rubbing soothingly up and down Steve's back. "I'll make sure of that."

A rousing cry of el doctor heralded the arrival of the American doctor, who greeted all the children before ducking into the hut. He was tall and dressed casually in khaki slacks and a loose-fitting white shirt. He greeted the woman first, a smile on his mustachioed face.

"Tehya. Imaynan kashianki?"

"Allillanmi." They weren't speaking Spanish, probably some kind of local offshoot dialect, so Danny couldn't really follow along until they switched to English. "Doctor Fletcher. He need help."

"So I see." The man hunkered down, setting aside his green canvas medical bag and offering his hand to Danny. "I'm Doctor Fletcher, Doctors Without Borders. You wouldn't happen to be Daniel Williams by chance, would you?"

Danny shook his hand. "I had no idea I was so well known in the backwaters of Peru."

Fletcher laughed. "We received a call at the clinic, asking us to keep an eye out for a lost American. I sure hope that's you."

"It is. Flash flood carried me away."

"Well, it's lucky you found your way here. Lots of jungle out there to get lost in." He cast a curious glance at Steve, who was still scrunched up behind Danny. "Is your friend also in need of medical assistance?"

"I don't think there's anything you can do for him, doc."

"Takana blanco," the woman supplied. The doctor's eyes widened.

"This is the "white hammer" I've heard so much about? I'm glad you sent for me, Tehya! Gretchen will never believe this." Fletcher opened up his bag and pulled out a satellite phone, quickly dialing. "Gretchen, it's Doug. Listen, call Lima and tell them we found their wandering tourist. No, I'm not kidding. You'll never guess who else is here, either. No. The Hammer. Yes, really! Well, I don't know if I can convince him but I'll do my best. Half hour, tops. Okay."

The doctor tucked the phone back in the bag and finally turned his attention to Danny's battered ankle. Danny sucked in a sharp breath as it was poked and prodded, which made Steve pop his head up, glowering and growling; this didn't seem to phase the good doctor.

"I wish you hadn't walked on this, Mr. Williams. I'm worried you've done damage to the ligaments."

"Didn't have much of a choice," Danny said, wincing. "Couldn't stay where I was."

"Mmm hmm. Well, I can put an air splint on it for now, and give you something for the pain. I have a Jeep, so I can take you back to the clinic with me and take a closer look at it there."

"Sounds good to me."

The air splint ended up being a kind of clear inflatable boot, which was secured around his foot with a minimal of jostling and jaw clenching. Finally, there was some pain relief in the form of a hydrocodone tablet, which Danny gratefully swallowed.

"You should start feeling the effects of that soon," Fletcher promised. He turned his attentions to Steve, who was still glowering at him. "Your friend, he's the one they talk about. They say he broke his head."

"He did something for sure. Big scar. He doesn't talk much, and sometimes he doesn't seem to understand things, but for the most part he's getting by pretty well. Saved my life." Danny reached back and patted him on the cheek, which earned him a scowl.

"I don't think he likes me," Fletcher observed.

"He's just a little over-protective, doc, don't take it personally."

"It's a shame no-one was at the clinic when he stumbled into the village. We don't have funding for a year-round presence, unfortunately, or we could've offered him a better level of care. The fact that he's this functional is amazing. I assume he'll be coming with us?"

"Danny's," Steve warned.

Fletcher held up his hands. "Fine by me, honestly."

"Be nice to the doctor," Danny said. "He's hooking me up with good drugs."

The doctor got to his feet and collected his bag. "Tehya. Thank you."

"You take to clinic?" she asked, standing as well.

"We'll fix him up and send him home. Huq p'unchaukama."

"Huq p'unchaukama."

"Gracias," Danny offered. Tehya smiled at him.

"You very welcome."

Steve slung the backpack and his own bag over one shoulder before helping Danny up, reluctantly allowing Fletcher to get on Danny's other side to support him so he wouldn't have to use the injured ankle at all. Getting into the Jeep wasn't much of a problem, but Steve seemed reluctant to do the same, staring at it distrustfully.

"It's okay, Tarzan. It's just a Jeep, it won't hurt you." Danny had a moment of sudden fear. What if this was as far as Steve was willing to go? He'd been living out in the jungle so long, maybe he wasn't ready to leave it for the unknown.

"Steve?" he asked in a softer tone of voice. "Are you coming with Danny?"

Steve sucked on his bottom lip for a minute, then shrugged and gave him a tremulous smile. "Danny's."

The relief was overwhelming. Funny how quickly he'd gotten used to having Steve around. He helped his friend get situated in the back and couldn't help laughing at the surprised expression on his face when the engine started. Steve held Danny's hand tightly during the ten minute drive, though towards the end he had his face tilted up to the sky, grinning hugely.

"Just as I suspected," he sighed. "You're some kind of adrenalin junkie, aren't you? I bet you have a motorcycle or your own plane or something. Am I right?"

Steve just kept grinning.

*o*o*o*

Gretchen turned out to be a fifty year old pediatrician and the new love of Danny's life. With her assistance he'd been able to bathe and, more importantly, wash his hair, until he finally felt a little more human. He'd been put on a milder painkiller and his less-swollen ankle was tightly ensconced in a gel splint. Steve was reluctantly clean as well, having endured a quick shower, and had been examined by Doctor Fletcher; he recommended that Steve see a neurologist once he got back home, and shook his head sadly at the big scar.

Danny was having a lively conversation with Gretchen about the many joys of Italian cooking when Gabby arrived with the cavalry. The clinic was suddenly full of men in uniforms that turned out to be the local constabulary, and Gabby's strident voice drowning them all out.

"Oh, Danny! Thank God!" She pressed a kiss to his forehead and clutched his hand in hers. Steve, who was perched on the neighboring bed wearing a borrowed t-shirt with his tattered pants, immediately stiffened up and frowned.

"So I hear you've been looking for me," Danny said, feeling just a little bit dopey from the medication.

"I thought you drowned, or broke your neck." She looked exhausted, her skin red with sunburn and bags under her eyes. She looked wonderful to Danny, who was thrilled just to see a familiar face.

"Just took a side trip." He grinned up at her, and then grimaced when his other hand was crushed in a steely grip. Steve had moved off the bed and was standing in a clearly defensive posture, one hand in Danny's and the other hand hovering over the hilt of his knife.

"And who is this?" Gabby and Steve shared a mutual glare over Danny, and he shook his head to try and clear it. He'd been worried about this, and rightfully so it seemed.

"Gabby, this is Steve McGarrett." He tugged Steve closer and gave him a quelling look. "He's been stranded out here and I was lucky enough to stumble across him. He saved my life."

"Well, of course I'm grateful to you for that." Gabby smiled, the one reserved for distasteful people she was forced to be nice to; he'd seen it often enough at museum events. Her eyes kept drifting down to where Steve was holding his hand, but he wasn't about to apologize for that. Steve needed reassurance.

"Danny."

"It's okay, Steve."

"What's wrong with him?" Gabby asked in a hushed tone. "Is he…brain damaged or something?"

Danny bristled at that, pulling his hand out of hers. "He'd not brain damaged! He had a traumatic experience, okay? He's been living like Tarzan in the jungle for like two years, all alone. Some Navy mission gone wrong, I'm guessing. I'd still be wandering around out there without his help, or else I'd be jaguar chow. I promised I'd get him home and that's what I'm going to do."

"He's Navy?"

"Yes, Gabby, he's Navy. A SEAL, actually." His voice absolutely was not tinged with pride. "Probably some kind of national hero or something, and we're taking him back to Hawaii with us."

"Fine. Let me make some calls and then we can head back to Lima." Gabby stalked away and Danny watched her go with a sigh. He didn't understand why she was being so difficult. But then Steve was crowding up on the bed next to him, making little noises in the back of his throat, and Danny scooted over to accommodate him.

"I know this doesn't make much sense to you, does it?" He rubbed Steve's back as the bigger man curled up against him, one hand clutching tightly to Danny's shirt. "It's okay. Gabby will come around, she just needs to get to know you. You're a good guy, Tarzan. Don't forget that, okay?"

"Ma-halo," Steve murmured against Danny's shoulders.

*o*o*o*

Doctor Fletcher had given Steve a mild sedative to help make the trip to Lima easier on him, for which Danny was immensely grateful. It was certainly culture shock to go from a solitary existence living out of a cargo plane to suddenly being in a city surrounded by billions of people. Not to mention cars, electricity, noise, and food. As per the doctor's orders, Danny made sure that Steve didn't eat anything spicy or heavy until his digestive system became better acclimated to regular food.

Gabby had upgraded their room at the Westin to a suite, though clearly she hadn't anticipated that Steve would be with them; she wanted to get him his own room, but Danny had immediately vetoed that and insisted Steve could sleep on the pull-out sofa. She hadn't been thrilled, but acquiesced and also agreed to having room service instead of going down to the restaurant.

"I'm not in any mood for a sit down dinner," Danny had patiently explained. "And neither is Steve. Can we please just have a quiet night?"

The following day he intended on paying a visit to the American consulate office to see what could be done to get Steve out of the country. He sure wasn't leaving without him. So he called for food and supervised Steve through a salad and a piece of plain, grilled tuna. Steve watched him the whole time, as if seeking assurance that everything he was doing was okay.

"Can't he at least use a fork?" Gabby complained.

Danny bit his lip to keep from saying anything he'd regret, chalking Gabby's attitude up to worry for him and sleepless nights. He really did appreciate everything she'd done to find him and so he was willing to cut her a little slack.

"Not a priority right now," he said, urging Steve to try a tomato.

By the time dinner was over Danny was more than ready to call it a night, and Steve was visibly wilting. He perked up a bit when Danny presented him with a new toothbrush and a fresh tube of toothpaste, and brushed his teeth for a good ten minutes.

"Okay, pal. Let's get you set up." Danny opened up the sofa bed and grabbed two pillows from the closet. "This is where you're going to sleep, okay? Nice and comfy, a damn sight better than that metal floor. Right?"

Steve didn't look convinced but he lay down as instructed after pulling off his t-shirt, bouncing a little to test the thin mattress. He moved over, making room for Danny. Danny looked guiltily towards the big king sized bed that Gabby was currently sliding into.

"Danny is sleeping in the other bed, Steve. With Gabby. But I'll be right there if you need anything, okay?"

Steve stared at him, trying to understand. Danny sat on the edge of the bed. "Gabby and I…we're engaged. That means we're going to get married. Do you remember about being married?"

Steve poked at his ring finger, looking miserable.

"That's right." There was more he wanted to say, but not with Gabby in the next room. And he wasn't sure he could really explain himself to Steve anyway. His feelings for his fiancée had been changing for some time now, and the way she'd been acting towards Steve wasn't making him feel any better about the way their relationship was going. This certainly wasn't the time to get into any of that, not even with himself.

"Get some sleep, okay?" Danny gave Steve's shoulder a squeeze and then went to join Gabby, stripping down to his boxer briefs when he got to the bed. He felt unaccountably shy about sharing a bed with her, though they'd been doing so for quite some time now. It was amazing how quickly things could change.

"You treat him like a little boy."

"He just needs time to acclimate." Danny lay down with a happy sigh. A real mattress, real pillows…heaven. So why was he suddenly so nostalgic for a cold, hard cargo plane?

"Well, I don't like it."

"Gabby." Danny turned on his side and propped up on one elbow. "I'm so incredibly tired, you have no idea. Can we just sleep and talk about this tomorrow?"

"Fine." She turned away from him and turned off the light.

Danny shook his head. Yes, it was definitely past time to talk to Gabby. He lay on his back, staring up into the dark, and turned his thoughts to the next steps he'd have to take with Steve. Hopefully the consulate would help get him out of the country, despite the fact that he didn't have a passport. Would the dog tags be enough? Surely they could contact the Navy to verify his status as an American citizen. He really had no clear idea how that would work, though. He wanted to get the hell out of Peru, for sure, but not without Steve.

He didn't know how long he lay there, thinking and unable to fall asleep, but it seemed like at least an hour. Gabby was breathing deep and regular beside him, but Steve wasn't sleeping quite so easily. He'd started whimpering and thrashing around a bit, and Danny was limping over to the sofa bed as soon as he heard it.

"Steve? Hey, it's okay. I'm here. Danny's here." He crawled on the bed, one hand reaching out to rub Steve's arm. "It's okay, Steve. Just a bad dream. I know you probably have plenty of nightmare fodder in that thick skull of yours, but it's all over now. Okay?"

He kept his voice low and as soothing as possible. Soon enough the thrashing stopped and Steve turned towards him, wrapping him in that octopus hug he was so good at. Danny wasn't sure he was even awake, especially given how quickly he calmed down and his breathing evened back out. The exhaustion of the day finally got to him, too, and he let himself relax. Before he knew it he was asleep too.

*o*o*o*

A loud pounding on the door woke Danny with a jolt. Steve was already up and crouched on the floor, knife out. Gabby hurried by, belting her robe and hissing at Danny to take the knife away.

"What the hell?" He dragged the sheet off the sofa bed and wrapped it around his waist. "Gabby?"

His breath caught in his throat when she backed away from the door to let two men in camouflage uniforms into the room. He shot a look at Steve, whose eyes had widened. He snapped to attention instantly, knife dropping to the floor with a dull thud.

"They're military police," Gabby explained, looking pleased with herself. "They've come to collect Steve."

"What?"

"We've come to escort Lt. Commander McGarrett back to the US for debriefing," one of the MPs said. The patch on his chest said Ellard.

"You…you can't just take him like that!" Danny protested. "He won't be able to talk to you."

"We've been briefed on his medical condition, Sir," the other MP, Salazar, said. "Commander McGarrett is active Navy and as such he needs to come in."

"Well, fine. That's just fine. But I'm going with him."

"Danny, be reasonable!" Gabby snapped. "He's Navy, let him go with them."

"You cannot accompany the Commander, Sir."

Danny fumed. Though still ramrod straight, Steve was looking nervously between him and the MPs. He should've known the military would get involved and be all ham-fisted about it. He had no doubt who had contacted them.

"Danny?" Steve looked like he wanted to move, but apparently the military training was ingrained on a genetic level. Danny went to him instead, standing beside him with a proprietary hand on his arm.

"Steve needs to stay with me. He doesn't…understand things sometimes. I can help you."

Ellard shook his head. "I'm sorry, Sir, but the Commander's work is classified. We've notified his next of kin, I suggest you contact them."

"St-stay Danny's?" Steve asked, panic in his eyes.

Danny felt like he couldn't catch his breath. They were going to just take Steve and leave, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. All he could was try and make it easier for Steve.

"These are your people, Steve. You need to go with them."

Steve shook his head.

"Look at me, Steve. Come on, now, don't be stubborn. They'll take care of you and I'll see you soon. I promise." He gave Steve a one-armed hug, his friend rigid with tension. "Can you get your things?"

Steve didn't look happy, but he did as Danny asked. He gathered up his bag, adding the new toothbrush to it, and pulled on his t-shirt. He came back to stand beside Danny, looking down at his feet.

"Where are you taking him?"

"That's classified."

"Of course it is. Well, be assured that I will be making phone calls. You'd better take care of him, because if you don't I don't care what branch of military you are, I will make your lives miserable."

"Noted, Sir," Salazar said with the slightest hint of a grin.

"Danny's," Steve said petulantly.

"Hey. Not just Danny's." Danny patted himself on the chest. "Steve's."

That got his friend to look up, a hopeful look in his eyes. He patted Danny on the chest and nodded.

"Let's go, Commander," Ellard said. They escorted Steve out of the room and Danny couldn't help following them out, watching their progress down the hall until they got into the elevator and the doors slid shut.

"He'll be fine," Gabby said dismissively when Danny came back in the room and shut the door. He glared at her, tossing the blanket back on the bed and searching around for his pants.

"Why did you call them?" Something in the tone of his voice made her eyes narrow.

"He's not your responsibility, Danny. He helped you, and that's wonderful, but you don't owe him anything." Gabby crossed her arms over her chest. "He obviously needs a lot of medical help and that's for his family to do. Not you."

The thing was, she was absolutely right. He wasn't Steve's father or his brother or anyone else with a legal leg to stand on. But in an incredibly short amount of time he'd become Steve's friend, the first one he'd probably had since whatever accident had broken his head. That would explain Steve's pull towards him, but Danny didn't have an excuse; he had friends, a life. And okay, maybe not a best friend per se, not like he'd had back in Jersey, but he'd only been in Hawaii for a little over a year; these things didn't just happen instantaneously. Except when they did.

"He's my friend, he trusted me." Danny got dressed and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. "I made promises."

"Well, you shouldn't have. And you only just met him, you can't possibly be friends. That's not how it works."

Danny spit into the sink. "I'm sorry, what? Aren't you the one who said you took one look at me during that investigation and you knew we were meant for each other? Love at first sight, do you remember that? That's what you told me."

Gabby threw her hands up, mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. "Is that what this is? Love? You told me that was just one time!"

He could only gape at her, hand fumbling to turn off the sink. Was she seriously going there? If he'd had any doubts about where things between them were going, they'd cleared right up. Looks like he was going to be single again.

"I can't believe you're bringing that up! It was a two-week fling in college! Christ, it's not like I had some kind of tryst out the jungle! I could barely walk, I had to sleep in the back of a damned cargo plane. I ate snake!" He pushed past her and dug through his backpack until he found his phone.

"Danny…"

"No. You don't get to talk anymore. I'm going home, as soon as fucking possible, and I'm going to find Steve. Because yes, he is my responsibility. And I think this thing we have here," he waved a hand between them. "Is officially over."

"You're leaving me for Steve?"

"No, I'm leaving you because we don't belong together. Because you don't try hard enough with Grace, and you always, always, put yourself first no matter what. I thought I could live with that, I really did, but I was wrong."

He turned his back on her and placed a call to yet another woman who had never really understood him. He laid out the basic details of the situation to his ex-wife, had no compunction about begging, and she promised to get him out of Peru on the first available plane; he swore he'd pay her back, not caring to owe her if he didn't have to. The whole time he was on the phone he could feel Gabby's eyes boring holes in the back of his head. He supposed it wasn't the smoothest break up he'd ever been a part of, but she'd crossed a line and he couldn't even feel the slightest bit of sympathy for her.

"Have a good trip back," Danny said as he finished packing and hefted his backpack.

"Fuck you," Gabby replied.

He just shook his head and left. He never thought he'd be so happy to get back to Hawaii.

*o*o*o*

Danny came home from work and flopped face down on his couch. He'd just closed a nasty murder case, had been putting in crazy hours on it, and now he was ready to sleep for days. Meka had invited him over for beers, but he really hadn't had the energy for it. Or the good humor.

It had been a month since his little adventure in Peru. He'd gone to see John McGarrett the day after he got back, but he was too late; a friendly neighbor said that a military escort had come to collect him and he hadn't known how long John would be gone. Danny had called anyone he could reach that was Navy, or had connections with the Navy. It was always the same – he wasn't family, he didn't have clearance, blah blah blah. Stupid military red tape. He wished he had better contacts, the kind he'd had when he was still a cop in Jersey.

Steve was always on his mind. His imagination gave him horrible images of Steve being ruthlessly interrogated, or of being wrapped up in a strait jacket in an institution somewhere. If only someone could tell him something, anything. He knew it was probably ridiculous of him to even be this worried after this long; maybe Steve had forgotten about him.

"Gah, enough!" Danny muttered to himself. He pushed up off the couch and got himself moving. Gun in the safe, check. Shower, check. Dinner…dinner…not so much. His fridge was depressingly empty. He thought he'd just get some take out, then remembered he'd have Grace in another few days and with a resigned sigh figured he should just suck it up and go to the store. Goddard's would probably have those little rotisserie chickens, which he could stretch into two meals for himself.

He was gone for about an hour, returning with several bags to restock his food supplies. He didn't remember eating everything, or even being home long enough to do so, but then he didn't always keep very good track of himself. Once all the groceries were put away he sat down at his very small table with the whole chicken still in the plastic carry case; no sense bothering with a plate. He had to get up again when he forgot the beer, and that's when he noticed he had a message on the answering machine. He pressed the play button and got only one step closer towards the fridge before freezing in place.

Detective Williams? This is John McGarrett. I wanted to call and thank you for looking after my son. I'm hoping it isn't presumptuous of me to ask a favor of you. Steve's…he's not doing very well. And I was hoping maybe you could come by when you have some free time. My number is 555-2399. I look forward to your call.

Danny dug around his junk drawer until he came up with a pen and an old receipt, and wrote down John's number. He was so incredibly glad that the man had called, would run over right now if that's what he wanted. He was embarrassed to see that his hand was shaking slightly as he dialed.

"McGarrett."

"Uh, hi. This is Danny Williams. I just got your message."

"Oh, Detective Williams. Thank you so much for getting back to me." The relief in the man's voice was palpable.

"No, thank you for calling. I've been wondering how Steve's doing."

John chuckled. "I heard you've been making quite a nuisance of yourself with the Navy."

Danny blushed, glad they were having this conversation over the phone. "Yeah, well, they just barged in and marched him off and I…how's he doing?"

"As you must be aware, he suffered a brain injury during his mission to Peru. He's been seen by several neurologists and psychologists. The general consensus is that he has some cognitive issues, but nothing as severe as we first thought."

"Cognitive issues?" Danny echoed, thinking of the times Steve would get that confused look on his face.

"Basically, it takes him longer to access certain bits of information, and there are some he can't access at all. He doesn't always know the right behaviors to use in certain situations. It's harder for him to modulate his emotions and reactions. But he's still Steve."

Well, this was nothing Danny hadn't already known, but he didn't say that. "Your message said he's not doing well?"

"He's become incredibly withdrawn. For a while he was talking, mostly…your name. But now he won't say anything. His therapist thinks it might just be all the changes and the additional stimulation of being around so many people again, but I just don't know."

Danny's chest tightened at that. He remembered how happy Steve had been when he'd finally been able to say his name. "When should I come?"

There was silence for a moment on the other end. "I wasn't sure you…I was hoping that, maybe, you'd be willing to help him."

"He saved my life, Sir. I made some promises I didn't get to keep, not then. I'd like another chance."

"When is your next day off, Detective?"

"It's Danny. And we just wrapped a big case, so I have the next two days off."

"Could you…is after breakfast okay?"

"That's fine. Great. I'll be there around nine, then?"

"Thank you so much, Danny."

The call ended and there was nothing but dial tone in Danny's ear. He hung up the phone and then just stood there for a minute, grinning and feeling a little foolish for it. Finally he fetched his beer and attacked his dinner with enthusiasm.

*o*o*o*

Danny sat in his car outside the McGarrett place for nearly a half hour, waiting for nine o'clock. He'd slept like a rock the night before, though that probably was mostly due to exhaustion, but he'd woken early and had been too keyed up to sit around his apartment waiting. Not that this was much better. Would Steve be happy to see him? Indifferent? Maybe he wouldn't remember; John did say his cognitive abilities kind of came and went.

As soon as the clock on the dashboard read nine he got out and hurried up the front walk. The door opened just as he was raising his hand to knock on it, revealing John McGarrett in a pair of faded jeans and an old HPD t-shirt. His craggy face looked softer than it had the last time Danny had run into him, and his eyes looked clear. This was a man who had gotten his life back together, and Danny was glad he'd had even a small hand in making that happen.

"Danny."

"John."

They shook hands, then John ushered him inside. Danny scanned the room, barely taking in anything but the fact that Steve wasn't in it. He found himself listening, looking for a sign of the man. John watched him, amused.

"You're really worried about him, aren't you?"

"He's a good guy," Danny said with what he hoped was an offhand shrug.

John nodded. "He's out back, on the lanai. I didn't…he doesn't know you're here."

"Oh. Okay." He went in the direction John pointed him in, hesitating by the sliding glass door in the back. There were two whitewashed beach chairs out there, and Steve was sitting in one of them. He was faced away from the door, watching the waves break on the little beach further down the yard; he was slouched down so that Danny could only see the top of his head. He took a deep breath and went out.

He thought about what to say, how to approach, but in the end he just plopped himself down in the other chair. "Hey, Tarzan."

Steve tensed up but didn't turn to look at him. Danny poked him in the shoulder.

"Steve. Kala mai. I'm sorry, I tried to come with you. They wouldn't let me." He could only see part of Steve's face, but it was enough to see that he was making that frowny, confused face. "I really missed you."

That finally got his attention, and Steve turned to look at him, eyes bright with emotion. His hair was cut short and Danny missed the waves. Steve thumped himself on the chest, hard, and glared. Great. Back to charades.

"Steve, you need to talk to me. I know you can." Stay Danny's. That little phrase had been haunting him for a month.

"Not…stupid," Steve said finally. He was red in the face, and his hand was clenched into a fist, which he tapped against his forehead. Danny hadn't been expecting this reaction.

"Of course you're not stupid! Who said you were?"

Steve reached out and grabbed his hand, jabbing at his ring finger.

"Ow! Stop that." Danny pulled his hand back and sighed. Gabby. "She was wrong. I know you're not stupid. There's nothing wrong with you."

His only response was a frown. Danny sighed. He understood that Steve felt hurt, not only by what Gabby had said but probably by Danny's absence in the last month. He likely didn't understand that the military had kept him away. He grabbed hold of Steve's hand and pulled on it, meeting resistance all the way, until he could press it to his own chest.

"Steve's," he said. "Stay Steve's."

Danny finally got the response he'd been hoping for when he suddenly found himself with a lap full of former Navy SEAL, his face buried in the crook of Danny's neck. This was familiar, and warm, and just right. Danny rubbed his back and let himself relax back into the chair.

"Miss you," Steve muttered, his breath puffing warm on Danny's neck.

"I missed you too, you big goof."

"Stay?"

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away."

Steve pulled his head back, and gave Danny a quizzical look.

"That means yes. Danny stay."

"Good." And Steve beamed, his whole face lighting up. Danny couldn't help but agree. Very good.

*o*o*o*

"Come on, Danno!"

"I'd go faster if I had help," he complained. He had two folding chairs hooked over one arm, a rolled blanket under the under, and was trying to juggle a cooler and an umbrella. Meanwhile, his daughter was running ahead, pigtails flying, chasing Steve down to the shoreline.

He grumbled good-naturedly while he got everything set up, then sat back under the shade of the umbrella to watch his two favorite people frolic in the waves. Grace was laughing, splashing Steve. For his part, the former wild man of Peru had filled out a bit since he wasn't subsisting solely on fruit and random creepy crawlies; he looked healthy. Danny loved watching them play together.

Life had a strange way of taking a person right where they needed to be. He couldn't help thinking that without that trip to Peru, he might now be married to Gabby. Maybe happy, probably not. Instead, he got washed down the side of a mountain and right into Steve's life, and there were too many good things that came from that to even count them.

Half an hour later Steve and Grace came back, shaking water on him. Steve went right for the cooler, pulling out sandwiches and bottles of water. Grace sprawled on the blanket, eating and people watching. Steve sat in the chair next to Danny's and handed him a sandwich.

"Mahalo," Danny said. Steve grinned at him.

"Water is warm." He used his hopeful, puppy dog face.

"Danno don't swim," Grace reminded him.

"Please?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "Stop. Just…stop. With the face. After lunch, I'll come in. Just a little!"

The unexpected capitulation had Steve kissing him fervently, one hand curled around Danny's neck.

"Oh, jeez!" Grace complained. "Knock it off, you're embarrassing me."

Danny smirked, pulling away. "I'll remind you of that when you have a boyfriend."

"Eww."

"Grace builds a castle?" Steve asked.

"We didn't bring the bucket," Grace reminded him patiently. "But next time we will."

"Okay." Steve took another bite of his sandwich, chewed thoughtfully. "Bury Danny?"

"No. And don't push your luck, Tarzan." Danny whacked him on the shoulder. "You'll just have to content yourself with the ocean today."

Their trips to the beach had become regular things; Steve always seemed happiest, most at ease, when he was in the water. He'd been indicating an interest in getting back on his surfboard, but Danny was waiting until he found a good instructor to make sure he remembered the basics; he hadn't told Steve but he was contemplating lessons as well, something else they could do together.

Grace finished her sandwich in record time, then stood in front of him with her hand out. "Can I get a shave ice?"

"Is that absolutely necessary?" he teased.

"Danno…"

"Shave ice for Grace," Steve said. He pulled his wallet out of the cooler and handed some money to Grace, looking smug as he did so. He received a very nice pension from the Navy, but recently had gotten himself a job at the animal hospital in Waikiki. Danny sometimes felt he could burst with pride at how well Steve was doing now. He was aware of his limitations, tried not to push himself too much, but each week seemed to get better control.

"Stop spoiling her," Danny said, watching as his daughter ran over to the shave ice stand.

"Make me," Steve challenged, a familiar glint in his eye.

Danny tilted his head to the side, like he wasn't sure what Steve meant, and then he dropped his sandwich and flew out of his chair, heading for the water. Steve was in hot pursuit, laughing as he closed in on Danny with his ridiculously long legs. They hit the water at almost the same time, Steve grabbing him around the waist and trying to throw him off balance. Danny retaliated by putting his hands on Steve's shoulders and trying to push him under the water. The pushing and shoving quickly turned to caressing and kissing as the waves foamed around them.

"Danny loves Steve?"

"Danny loves Steve," he agreed. "Always."

"Sorry," Steve apologized.

"What f…" Danny choked on salt water when Steve knocked his feet out from under him. He came up spluttering, splashing water at Steve. "Dick!"

"Danny loves Steve's dick."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Inappropriate."

Steve's expression clouded over for a minute, then he nodded. He pulled Danny close and this time whispered it in his ear. "Danny loves Steve's dick."

"Yes, I do," he whispered back. "But this isn't he place to talk about it. Okay?"

"Okay."

Steve grinned, gave Danny a messy kiss, then headed back up the beach to see if Grace would share her shave ice with him. Danny stood in the ocean, water lapping at his knees, and couldn't help grinning. Life with Tarzan certainly was interesting.

"Have some!" Steve called over to him. Danny nodded and made his way to where his family waited. And thanked God for Peru.

---

AN: There I was, making a pile of copies at work, and whammo! Steve of the Jungle popped into my head and he was just too good to ignore. It's a little bit Tarzan, a little bit George of the Jungle, and a whole lot of ab-riffic Steve. ::grins:: Let's just picture that for a moment, shall we? Oh, yeah! Somehow I think I was also channeling Romancing the Stone. This should've been written as crack, but I'm not good at that. I had fun anyway. Hope you did too!

Steve's traumatic brain injury has absolutely no basis in reality, like much of my life. LOL! Merely a plot device to make him extra huggy and less talky. This had the added benefit of requiring zero research, so yay for that.

The Sentinel fangirl in me couldn't help setting the jungle scenes in Peru and tossing in a jaguar. It's pavlovian at this point - say jungle, I think Jim Ellison. LOL!