The Shallow Grave of Secret Longing
Chapter 37
Here, finally, is another. This very late and vague clarification of Steve's escape from the desert was by popular request, (just not the late part or the vague part). I apologize for taking so long to update but I think I hurt myself writing that last chapter! This was supposed to be the final one but will have to extend it to one more to tie it all up with a tropically colored bow. Thank you so very much for your reviews and listings. Ninja cats still puzzled how someone can be so blissed-out without the aid of Meowie Wowie.
Disclaimer: Almost done with our damaged heroes. Never made any money from their use and will glue all pieces back together and do a little polishing before giving them back. Ninja cats and husband will be ecstatic to have the return of their cook and housekeeper.
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Fuhgeddaboudit
He was still a huddled wreck on the floor of Esquivel's office when the doctor quietly asked if it was okay to call Danny in to help him get home. The compassionate shrink thought for the detective to actually see his friend in this distraught state was something that needed the commander's permission.
"Steve" said Esquivel gently as he continued to rub his hand over his patient's back. "Is it okay if I call Danny to help you home?"
After a brief moment when it seemed that perhaps his patient wasn't yet capable of making the decision, he saw Steve nod his permission. The man was still breathless from dry heaving into the wastebasket.
"He's waiting in the . . . the lobby." the tall man managed to gasp out as he came off his knees to collapse back against the legs of a chair.
It had already been the plan for his friend to drive him back and forth to his appointments. Danny still didn't trust him to actually show up for them and not wander off again and Steve understood the concern.
Esquivel went to the console on his desk and pressed a button, "Sergeant Waters?"
"Yes sir" answered a disembodied voice – a woman's.
"Could you please call Detective Williams from the lobby and show him into my office?"
"Yes sir" was the clipped reply.
Danny sat thumbing through one of the ratty copies of 'People' he'd gotten from the magazine rack on the wall. This one was all about one of those Kardashian women. While he admired her impressive backside, (a little 'junk in the trunk' was just fine with him), he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was that made the girl so famous.
He'd just finished reading an account of some sort of feud with another mysteriously famous celebrity whose name he only vaguely recognized when he heard someone call out "Detective Williams?" from a doorway across the room; the same one through which Steve had disappeared over an hour ago.
He hurriedly stood and approached the crop-haired woman in uniform. He knew she was Army but had no idea what her rank may be. Steve would have to tell him again what the chevron with the extra stripes on her sleeve meant . . . Why does it have to be so friggin complicated; why don't they just spell out the words?" thought the detective.
"Is Steve . . . Commander McGarrett okay?" he worriedly inquired of the woman as he followed her down the long corridor.
"I'm sorry" she replied, "I can't disclose any information."
"Classified, right?" huffed the annoyed blonde as the woman stopped in front of a door with the name of the shrink engraved on the rectangular plastic plaque affixed to it.
Ignoring the cute civilian's last comment and trying not to smile, the sergeant rapped softly on the door and a voice answered, "Come in".
She pushed it open, announcing, "Detective Williams for you, Captain Esquivel".
"Thank you Sergeant Waters," answered the captain, giving her a sloppy salute as dismissal. Even Danny knew it wasn't a regulation salute.
"Come on in Danny." greeted the doctor.
Danny advanced through the door; nearly doing a double take when he spotted his partner slumped on the floor, back resting against one of the chairs.
"Steve, Babe?" he asked in concern as he approached the exhausted looking man who was yet to look upward at him.
"Danny, could you help Steve get back home? I think we had a good session today, very revealing but it was a little hard on him and he's still not quite recovered."
"Ya think?" snorted Danny as he peered down at Steve who looked even worse than he had earlier after ralphing in the restroom. The man looked like a hammered cow pie.
"He needs to go home and get some rest. I'd appreciate it if you could remain with him for a few hours?"
"Yes, of course." replied the detective as he sank to his knees next to his immobile friend; wincing slightly at the stiffness in his bad knee that was unlikely to ever leave.
Trying to get Steve's attention by lowering his own face into his eyeline, he said, "Steve? Come on. Let's get you off of this floor babe."
He reached out and putting a hand under one arm while the doctor did the same on the other side, they tugged the shaken man to his feet.
"I'm good." said Steve as he wobbled slightly causing Danny to tighten his grip on his friend's arm.
"He have any Ativan left?" asked Esquivel of the detective. "I think it would be a good idea to take a small dose as soon as you get him home."
"You know, I'm right here, right?" growled the commander before turning to Danny and asking, "Do I?"
"Yeah, we just got a refill a couple days ago." answered the blonde who, for now, was still the keeper of his friend's medications.
"Steve, I want you to go home and take two milligrams and relax and try to sleep for a bit okay? You've been through a lot today and getting some rest now is the best thing you can do."
Steve only nodded in acquiescence, mumbling "yes sir."
By the more formal reply from the tall man even though they'd been on a first name basis for a while, Esquivel realized his patient may again be reverting to his shut-down mode. The need for distance was understandable considering the recovered memories. It wasn't a problem unless it continued for too long.
"Should he take the Prazocin too?" asked Danny. The nightmares were sure to come after what had probably happened judging from Steve's wrung-out appearance.
"Steve?" asked Esquivel, "You think you should take it tonight? I'll leave it up to you this time but make sure you eat something as soon as you wake from your nap. You haven't yet gained back enough weight and I don't want to see you lose ground on that issue."
Without even pausing to think about it, the tall man nodded quietly.
"Okay Danny, tonight give him one temazepam and only half a hit of Prazocin. It may not do that much good at that dosage but it won't hurt. I don't want Steve to take anything that will bring on nausea. I think he's done enough upchucking for a while."
As Danny steered his exhausted partner toward the door. Esquivel addressed his patient, "Steve, I'm going to move up your next appointment okay? I'll see you again in two days."
"Yes sir" was the reply as the tall man turned to go out into the hallway, his friend lagging slightly behind him.
Danny rolled his eyes at the formal wording. At least he didn't salute! was his thought before looking questioningly at the doctor.
"He'll tell you when he's ready." said Esquivel in answer to the unvoiced question, his voice just low enough for his patient not to hear, "Just be there for him."
"Always." vowed Danny
"I have no doubt." replied the doctor as the detective exited the office to follow his friend into the hallway; the sound of their feet tapping on the linoleum growing fainter.
Closing the door, he went back to his desk and shakily pulled out its bottom left-hand drawer. There, nestled in the back of it was the small flask of whiskey he kept for such occasions; the ones that gave him images in his head he'd just as soon forget. Using the jigger-sized cap, he poured himself a shot and downed the amber liquid in one swift gulp then closed his eyes to feel it burn its way down before reaching his stomach as soothing warmth. He hadn't had to do this in quite a while. No wonder the poor guy is such a mess.
Taking a few deep breaths and waiting for his normal calm to return, he read through the folder on his desk and then looked up at the clock. With a final sigh he reached toward the intercom to press one of its buttons as he said, "Sergeant Waters, could you send in the next patient please."
…..
The ocean released its cool spray to float over his skin as he stood looking at the outline of Lanai coming closer from the distance. Ha'upu's boat cut through the water toward its dock where the small fishing boats gathered at Kaunakakai Marina.
When the boat was secured to its moorings, Steve said his goodbyes and walked to where Howard waited in the old pick-up to take him to Kip's.
"How you doin' boy?" he asked, forehead crinkling as Steve climbed into the ancient vehicle.
"Better" he answered with a small embarrassed smile.
"Good", said the older man as he put the truck in gear and quickly pulled out onto the only paved road on this side of the island.
There was no further conversation as the old Chevy rattled down the highway. There really was no need to talk.
It would be good to get back to the little wooden house with the menagerie gathered in its front yard. Kip would be waiting with her never-ending cups of mysterious herbal tea. He still had to finish painting the cottage. The front porch was the only part of it that had received a layer of the so meticulously applied and pristinely white coating.
It would be good to have this kind of fairly mindless work to do. There was a lot to think about; there were still unanswered questions. After finally remembering what had happened, did he even want to go back to the possibility of being deployed again? Was it even realistic to think he could eventually pass the psych eval? Could he hack being the leader of Five-0 again? Then, there was Cath . . .
Much as he appreciated Esquivel, he'd become frustrated with the shrink's evasiveness; somehow responding to his patient's questions without actually giving answers.
He also needed to get away from Danny's hovering for a couple days. He loved the diminutive tough guy but his partner was back to smothering him with concern. Danny needed to go back to his own life but, when his friend wasn't around, the house seemed to mock him with its emptiness. Its only other occupants were ghosts.
Granted, he knew his friend's worry hadn't been without some warrant. The belated realization of how selfish he'd been to try to end his own life was a blinding and devastating revelation. It had been so incredibly egocentric to think his death would be of no consequence to those who cared for him. He knew he could never begin to make up to for what he'd put his friends through. He just hoped they could forgive him.
He also knew he was still a fucked-up mess but he was beginning to feel more himself with each passing day as the physical and emotional numbness receded. With that, returned the impatience and restlessness that was part of his nature; his 'ADD-attention-span-of-a-gnat complicated by a zeal for all things explosive' nature as Danny had termed it.
As predicted, Kip waited for them at the front of her house, her menagerie gathered around her; a cloud of unruly hair glowing like a bright halo in the morning sun that flared behind her.
To Steve it appeared surreal; like something he'd seen in a book he'd been given as a child - it was about angels or maybe saints. He didn't really remember anything other than the beautiful illustrations. He chuckled to himself as Howard shoved the floor-mount gearshift into park and shut off the engine.
"What's funny?" asked the old guy, curiously peering at Kip through the dusty windshield to see if he could spot what was so amusing to the young man.
"That light behind Kip makes her hair look like a halo." smiled Steve, "and with all those animals around her she resembles someone I saw in a picture book when I was a little kid. It might have been St. Francis of Assisi. You know he's the one depicted by that garden statue you see in a lotta yards; a figure surrounded by deer and rabbits and stuff."
Howard chuckled as he recognized what Steve saw, "Yeah, she does kinda look like that statue right now."
"Saint Kekipi of Lanai? Sort of has a ring to it." laughed Steve
"Kip a saint huh?" said Howard mulling it over as he grabbed the door handle in preparation to exit the truck before pausing and turning to his passenger, "Don't let her hear you call her that; she'll kick your ass."
…
The days had passed nearly without incident. He was almost finished with the house painting. The goats had eaten only one of his brushes along with the bandana he used to keep paint out of his hair as desert.
Kip surveyed her home's newly immaculate wooden siding. Her place hadn't looked this good since Malu was still with her. Though Howard would offer to fix things or hire someone to fix them, she'd always been too proud to take him up on the offer. Stevie was more like a son . . . and sons were allowed and at times encouraged to do such things but she'd told him on more than one occasion she didn't expect this. He'd always look down in embarrassment and tell her it was the least he could do. After a couple of such times, she realized how shamed he was feeling and stopped protesting his help.
Kip was aware of her friend's need to keep busy. It appeared to give him some peace. She was so very glad something finally did and he seemed much more stable than when he'd first arrived on Lanai. Since he'd come back from Oahu last time he'd only woken with nightmares a couple of times. He didn't even wake during the last one, just mumbled a bit and tossed and turned. She only heard him because she was up late putting the last few pieces of a puzzle into place. She still wouldn't actually touch him to wake him. All it took was a few soothing words from her and he'd settled back into true sleep.
Kip knew this wasn't going to last. Stevie would soon return to his home and his job and life would go on. She hoped Ua Kane would come back to visit occasionally. It wasn't quite as lonely as it had been. Some of the people she hadn't seen in a while were coming around again.
Benji Pakele had returned from the hospital on Molokai and was to be seen in town entertaining its residents with his tale of a brush with death at the tusks of a wild boar. Of course, he always left out the part about wetting his pants and having been rescued by the skinny haole.
Rabbit appeared to have gained wisdom from his experience and didn't spend as much time hanging with the posse of troublemakers. One day, when Steve was busy replacing part of the rickety barrier that surrounded Kip's small vegetable garden, Koa the territorial billygoat decided it was time to show the man who was boss.
Steve's back was turned when the goat charged him. There was a shout from the other side of the yard and Rabbit appeared, waving his arms to distract the evil-tempered animal. The goat actually paused to assess this new intruder into his territory allowing his original target to nimbly scramble out of his path.
Exclaimed Rabbit as he leaped quickly onto the wooden fence covered in chicken-wire that served as part of the garden's enclosure, "That's a badass goat brah!".
Steve laughed as he dodged out of the angry animal's way once again before joining Rabbit where he'd perched on the top rail. He smiled at the youth beside him, "Thanks for distracting him. Koa's out for blood today."
"No worries." said Rabbit with a shy laugh. "You save me from a pig, I save you from a goat."
They sat watching the fierce black goat finally give up in frustration at not being able to vanquish the intruders or push his way through the now repaired barrier between himself and the coveted green beans. With a final look toward the two seated on the fence and a snort that probably meant, "Next time." he finally turned and trotted off, presumably in search of some yummy seat cushions as consolation.
"I . . . I uh never got to say thanks to you for saving my ass brah. I'm sorry for that other stuff too, you know, in front of Howard's store . . . honest. I know Benji's a dick and I'm really sorry I went along with it."
Steve only looked at him for a moment. He didn't even remember the incident with the boar. He'd only heard the retelling of it from Kip and Howard. Nodding his head at the contrite looking young man, he replied, "No worries. Apology accepted. I suppose we're even now that you've just saved me from a man-eating goat."
Rabbit, losing his embarrassed expression as a slow smile spread across his tanned young face replied. "Yeah, brah, goats are bloodthirsty."
….
The sessions with Esquivel had yielded more information on Steve's escape. After revealing the horrifying details of what had happened in the cave, his recall of the events that led to his rescue came much more quickly if not any less stressfully. The wise shrink had insisted on continuing the EMDR during his patient's recounting and Steve did admit it took away some of the anxiety.
There really wasn't much to recall after he'd been found near death until he woke in the hospital at Ramstein. Even then, there wasn't anything other than vaguely remembered glimpses of hands and needles and voices in different languages all telling him it would be okay and he needed to stop fighting them.
"After I contacted command and the information was relayed to NSW Command that there was a leak somewhere and it needed to be plugged, another team was dispatched. Its mission was to neutralize the mole in the network then find whoever had survived and recover the bodies of those who hadn't."
The SEAL seemed to hesitate then before continuing.
"Remember" reminded the doctor, "I've been cleared for all this stuff. Don't worry about spilling anything that might be considered classified. Go on with what you can remember."
Steve nodded and blew out a breath. As his eyes began to track the familiar white plastic ball he began to recount his escape and the arduous nearly fatal trek.
"Start from where you left off last time Steve." said Esquivel's soothing voice, "You'd just come-to again and realized you were alone."
Left . . . right
He lay on the floor of the cave. All was quiet. The group of captives had stampeded as soon as they realized it was over. He could hear their footfalls grow softer as they distanced themselves from the carnage.
He didn't look. He knew they were dead.
He searched for the carbine he remembered the guard had dropped in favor of the big knife. 'Fucker should have held onto his gun instead of trying to make some stupid deranged point by using the blade' was his thought. Finally locating it by feel because he could barely manage to focus his eyes, he picked it up and clung to it.
He felt so strange. His body seemed only minimally connected to his brain. There was a delay in the response of his muscles when they should automatically carry out what was expected. So weird.
He realized he was standing now and looking down at his camos, he was puzzled to find that they were now almost a solid color – dark rusty red. Blood? His? He didn't feel anything other than incredibly tired.
He hefted the unfamiliar carbine. It was Russian made. How'd he get hold of a Russian gun? Where was his HK?
They'd left only the one guard. It really didn't take more than one man to watch a bunch of women and kids and a half-dead prisoner. There must be something else going on somewhere for there to be only the one.
He staggered into the glaring sunlight; barely able to keep his eyes open against it. There was no one to stop him. It was almost ridiculous after having been surrounded, kicked and beaten by so many of them for the last couple of days. They'd almost seemed to make a sport of it.
He found himself stumbling over the rocky ground that sloped downward toward the sandy flatness. After walking what seemed hours he realized he'd ceased to sweat. It meant he was so dehydrated he couldn't. He fell again and lay there for a while before struggling to regain his feet. It would be so easy to just stay down. He supposed the decision would be made for him and very soon. He couldn't even summon up any saliva to keep his tongue from sticking to the roof of his mouth. The desert would make the decision for him.
Other than indescribable thirst and exhaustion that pulled at him as though to suck him down into the sand below his feet, he felt nothing. He navigated by being vaguely aware the terrain sloped downward. He couldn't tell direction by landmarks or the slant of the sun - he'd have to keep his eyes open long enough for that. He barely bothered to open them anymore. When he did, all he could see was the colorless blur of earth and sky. Surely the sun would immolate him before he died of thirst.
He heard shouting and the earth kicked up around him in dusty puffs as the report of rifle fire cracked across the dry air. It was a good thing they'd already taken out their best shooters detachedly thought the stumbling, weaving man. These guys couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. His hoarse laughter echoed from the cliffs that surrounded him - the ones to which currently clung the woefully inaccurate riflemen.
Falling and getting back to his feet countless times, he didn't even know why he got up again after each collapse. The voices had been telling him to stay down; that he should lie on the scorching sand until torn and bloodied flesh fell away to leave only bone the hue of bleached earth . . . to rest until there was no more thirst.
He was going to do that. Next time he fell, he wouldn't get up. They were right. They were all right. He was stupid to think he could get home. They told him he was foolish to even think he could.
Heidegger's voice said "Dog, you're fuckin' crazy to think you can get yourself out of this one!"
Hannaman said, "Time to give it a rest sir. Stop now and it won't hurt any more. Just stop."
Now there was more gunfire. Not close. He didn't even know if he actually heard it or if it was just part of the chaos in his head. Where was his gun? For a while he had the carbine he'd picked up from the ground at the cave but where did it go? Oh, yeah, he dropped it because he couldn't walk with it anymore. It was too fucking heavy.
He staggered on under the fierce colorless sky. He wasn't even aware he'd fallen that one last time and the desert had made the decision he wouldn't get up again.
There were more voices now. They were telling him to lie still and there would be peace. That he was safe now. There were hands touching him. He didn't have the strength to fight anymore. He just wanted there to be water and cool darkness - no more sun, no more voices. He'd do what they wanted. He would lie down and become part of the earth, the ghosts had waited for him and he would finally join them.
Left . . . right
…...
Rabbit, now becoming used to being called by the name his mother had given him – Keanu – began to come around more often. He helped Kip with her garden and, if Steve was there, trailed after him like a puppy; eager to learn what he could about carpentry and machinery repair. Though Steve was certainly no expert, to Keanu he could do no wrong.
It was now known that Kip's handyman was a cop. Not just a cop, but 'the' cop on the islands. Keanu didn't really question why the man would be hanging around Kekipi Maluhia's little dirt patch of a place but it was working out quite well for him. The boy felt useful and sometimes when he asked about chasing bad guys and keeping the islands safe he'd be rewarded with a brief story about doing so. Rabbit had even told Benji he was lucky not to have Steve 'Five-Fucking-0' McGarrett kick his ass that night in the forest. Benji from somewhere summoned the grace to look at least a little appreciative for his rescue and the reprieve from ass-kicking. It still didn't stop him from his subjective yarn spinning to whoever would listen.
As time wore on, Kip began to include Keanu and even his mother Delia into occasional dinners at her house.
…
Was it only a couple of days? He couldn't tell anymore. Yeah, a couple of days 'cause Heidegger had died this morning . . . right? He was dead . . . but . . . if he was dead why was he still talking to him?
Just give it up McGarrett
"No, can't."
If you just lie down, the pain will all go away
"Doesn't matter. Don't feel anything anyway . . . just tired."
Come on Doggie, don't be such a stubborn bitch, just lie down and you can rest. It will feel good.
"I said I can't. Leave me alone."
You know McGarrett, all you have to do is let yourself fall and not get up and this will all be over.
"Shut up Heidegger, I know you're dead. You shouldn't even be talking to me. Shut up!"
What, you think this conversation is classified? mocked the voice that now sounded strangely like Danny's.
"Shut up! Just shut up! I'll pay you to shut up!"
There was only laughter now. All of them laughing at him: Parkman and Rodriguez, Heidegger and Cantu and Hannaman - they were all laughing.
"SHUT UP!" bolting upright he saw only the walls of his darkened bedroom. No sun, no sand, no blood; the only sound that of the frantic thudding of his own heart and the noisy rasping of his own breaths.
There was a soft knock and the door slowly opened as Danny peeked into the room.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, just the usual." he answered running a hand through sweaty hair. It wasn't even that embarrassing anymore to wake this way with Danny or Kip knowing what had happened. He'd breezed past that impediment long ago.
"I take it I was in this one?" smiled Danny somewhat grimly as he approached the bed.
"You? Why do you say that?" asked McGarrett still trying to blink away blazing sunlight from his retinas.
"I heard you yell that you'd pay me to shut up."
"I did?"
"Yeah, you sounded pretty pissed."
"Sorry"
"It's okay babe. Not the first time you've said it."
"Oh . . . yeah. You're right, I remember that now. Offer's still good." said the now much calmer man, a smile in his hoarse voice. The room was too dark to actually make out anyone's facial expressions.
"You still haven't paid up from the last time." huffed the blonde as he sat on the edge of the rumpled bed. "You need water?"
"Nah, I'm good."
The two sat without speaking for a few moments before Steve broke the silence.
"Danny?"
"Yeah babe?"
"Thank you."
"In the immortal words of any number of Mafioso - fuhgeddaboudit."
There was another small chuckle in the darkness. "Can't do that. I wouldn't even be here if you'd given up on me. I don't know what . . . well, I guess I do know what would have happened. I'm so sorry Danny. I'm so so sorry . . . " he barely choked out the words as his throat tightened and his eyes burned. There was something breaking and coming loose inside him. He buried his face in his hands as sobs suddenly racked his body.
"Hey hey. It's okay now. It's really gonna be okay now, honest." said Danny as he wrapped his arms around the shaking shoulders and rocked his friend back and forth in the darkness. He knew these tears were a long time coming. These were more than tears of remorse. These were tears of sorrow and acceptance. This was what needed to happen before any real rebuilding could begin. It had been too long in coming.
After a bit, Steve took a shuddering breath and straightened himself to pull away from the comforting embrace of his friend.
"Danny?"
"Yeah, Steven?"
"Can I tell you what happened to me?"
*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*
Reviews and reminders of things that need to be addressed would be welcome. Please know that your input has made this a much better story than it would have been if left to my own devices.
If you'd like to make any further suggestions before this is wrapped, please feel free to do so. I know there's at least a couple of reunions, (possible clue there), and a couple other things that need to be resolved. Will actually have to go back and comb through this story to find them all.
Since I've been such a dismal failure at meeting ETA's for updates, I won't promise one for the final chapter but will do my best to make it reasonably soon.