Author's Note: The Seven Natural Laws of the Universe are available in many different forms all over the internet. The manner in which I have them listed is not garnered from any single source, but is my own interpretation from reading various different sources. No direct quotes from any available sources are intentional.

Author's Note II: Because Way 99 and Way 100 turned out to be very long, I've decided to stretch this out a bit by posting only Way 99 in this chapter, and then making the final way its own chapter. So you get today and tomorrow still!

Way 99

Hide notes for him around the house where only he will find them.

Steve's not sure when he starts noticing it, but at some point he's gotten used to, every now and then, finding little things around the house that don't belong to him. That didn't belong to his father or his mother. That aren't his sister's.

Little hair bands that he knows belong to Grace.

Change in an empty candy dish that sits on a bookshelf in the living room. Coins Steve knows he didn't put there.

An HPD procedure manual left conspicuously on top of his dresser that had made him laugh out loud when he found it.

Smaller things, like a stray button from a shirt not a color Steve himself owns.

A small school photo of Gracie hanging on his freezer door.

A pair of swim trunks mixed into his laundry that he remembers from the first time Danny agreed to go for a swim during a team barbecue.

A long-ish blond hair woven into the fibers of one of his beach towels when he pulls it from the dryer.

Little things, really.

Things that shouldn't actually be in his house, but are there, nonetheless, as though defying the Seven Natural Laws of the Universe, much like Danny defies every rule Steve's ever had to live by just by breathing, it seems.

Steve sits back on the couch, a gold cufflink rolling around in the palm of his hand, and thinks about that for a moment. Not the cufflink – he knows it's Danny's, because Danny had come back to Steve's place after Meka's wake, stripped off his dress uniform jacket, taken the cufflinks off and put them on top of the TV so he could roll up his sleeves. This one obviously fell off the television and landed under the TV stand, which is where Steve's just found it.

But more along the lines of the Seven Natural Laws, is where his thoughts are straying now. He remembers the shaman in the Steppes of Mongolia, who patiently started explaining them one night eight years ago as he nursed Steve back to health after a particularly nasty firefight that left every single one of Steve's SEAL team wounded to some degree.

The Law of Vibration

"Everything vibrates and nothing rests," the shaman had explained. "Like energy attracts like energy. Everything is energy."

Steve can't help but huff out a laugh. If Danny has to be equated to any of the Seven Laws, that's the one that fits him to a T. He's constantly in motion, to the point where now, when Danny's not hanging out at Steve's, the house seems deathly still and eerily silent. Like the tomb it must have felt like while his father laid there dead from a gunshot wound, before Danny came in to find him.

Steve swallows hard. He's never really thought about what it was like to be the first man on-scene, but the case had been Danny's from the beginning and really, now that he thinks on it, it seems odd that it wasn't Danny's and Meka's. No, it was Danny's alone. He's read the reports Danny had filed after the initial few days of investigating the scene.

He remembers reading that Danny arrived with six HPD officers in tow, entered the premises with weapon drawn, sent half the officers up to the second floor and the other half to sweep the first floor and out back, then sent them to check the perimeter of the house. Sent them to do all that while he, Danny himself, moved to the dead body on the floor.

To Steve's father.

He feels the breath hitch in his throat and tries to block out what Danny's eyes would've seen. Wonders if Danny can block it out, now knowing the victim's son as he does. Wonders what Danny sees every time he's in the McGarrett house – if he relives finding John lying there in a pool of blood or if he can block it out much more than Steve's own imagination seems to be able to.

Maybe one of these days he'll ask Danny why HPD assigned him only, without his partner at the time. But, he reasons, maybe Danny himself doesn't know. Maybe it was because an energy was pulling Danny to this house, to this case. To a dead man and a dead man's son, like it was always supposed to have happened that way.

The Law of Relativity

"Nothing is what it is until you relate it to something." The shaman was wiping at Steve's fevered brow with a wet cloth. It was cool, and soothing, and Steve remembers sighing softly at the sensation as the rest of him threatened to overheat from the inside out. "One man's nature can only be measured in relation to another man."

Steve thinks about this as it applies to his partnership, and isn't all that surprised when his brain tells him that while he and Danny might appear to be polar opposites – and in some ways really and truly are – that maybe the reason they get along so well is because of how they are together, measured against each other.

That's a new thought he hasn't had before, and when he recalls how even that first time they seemed in synch, even after the arm-twisting and the punch-throwing, even through Danny ranting about getting shot…after all that, they stayed together.

Danny could've told his captain he didn't want to be Steve's partner. He didn't. And he's still there, by his side like it was specifically carved out for him by the Universe.

Huh, Steve thinks. Maybe it was.

The Law of Cause and Effect

"For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction." Steve had known that one already, it was pretty much a basic Physics principle, but then the shaman had added, "Be the cause for what you wish for, and you will achieve what you desire."

Steve recalls over the last few months of his pursuit of the Hesse brothers, before he finally had caught Anton and smugly thought how he'd easily have Victor with Anton as a bargaining chip, that he'd started wondering what it might be like to not be racing around the world trying to get a step ahead of terrorists like the Hesses.

He'd tried to push the thoughts away at the time, feeling guilt toward his SEAL team for even thinking them at all, but something was calling to him, he thinks now, and that something was Hawaii. Like a siren song originating in the middle of the Pacific, and when he didn't choose to come back of his own free will, the Universe made it happen.

But to think that his father had died simply to get him to come back to Hawaii is not only narcissistic, it's downright depressing.

So Steve stops thinking about that and instead thinks about how the Law of Cause and Effect might apply to his partnership. He isn't quite sure that anything he does where Danny's concerned is necessarily any sort of design to get something he wants. Because basically, all he wants is a partner he can trust and count on, and Danny just jumps in and gives him that without Steve having to do anything at all.

Maybe it's Danny applying the Law, then. Maybe Danny rants and raves at him over procedure and how he does things because he knows it'll just keep Steve doing things his own way. The more Danny pushes, the more Steve stays the same and then his epiphany is…maybe Danny doesn't want him to change. Maybe Danny wants him to stay just the way he is.

And that makes his mouth quirk up in a smile, because for all Danny gripes about Steve's methods, he never ever backs down from following him into the fray. The cause is Danny's bitching. The effect is that nothing changes. And Danny doesn't seem to want it to.

The Law of Polarity

"Everything has an opposite, my friend," the shaman had whispered as he gently held Steve's head up enough so he could drink the offered broth. "Polar opposites make existence possible."

And here he is, back to thinking about polar opposites – about him and Danny. This one seems easy in his mind. This one seems to be saying that without each other, he and Danny wouldn't exist.

Which sort of makes his brain hurt, and he doesn't think it means they wouldn't literally exist. It's just that they wouldn't exist as they do right now, and that's something because in their own ways, they're both happy. Gracie says her Danno's happy, she's told him that a few times now. And Steve guesses that in spite of the continuing shitstorm that seems to come every three to five weeks that rains on Five-0's parade because Wo Fat is still that much of an asshole, Steve's pretty happy with things, too.

The shaman's eyes had twinkled as his hands had dipped and swooped to illustrate his words. "If what you are doesn't coexist with what you are not, then you cannot be."

So maybe that's why he and Danny coexist so well, he thinks. Maybe it's because he is what Danny's not, and Danny is what he's not. They're sort of like two halves of a whole, maybe, light filling up the dark spaces in each other, slotting together on the job and even off the job in a way Steve's never before experienced.

He thinks he kind of likes it, and then barks out a laugh when he imagines trying to explain any of this to his partner. The look he would get…

The Law of Rhythm

"Everything has a natural cycle. For all the bad, there is always good. Night follows day as the new generations replace the old. Change is constant, and when things are at their worst, you must know they will always get better."

He's often thought his and Danny's give-and-take method of communicating and just being was something like a rhythm all its own. Steve pushes, Danny shoves back. Steve does something, Danny gives him hell. Danny laments over missed time with Grace and Steve gives him a gift to make what time he does get, count.

For all the bad…the death of Steve's father…there is always good…a new life in Hawaii…a new partner, one that's become his best friend…a new ohana unlike any he ever knew before.

Night…the despair and helplessness he felt hearing the shot that ended John's life…follows day…the victory he'd felt in capturing Anton.

New generations…Steve returning to Hawaii…replace the old…his dead parents. New generations…Grace, and her father's love for her bringing him to a place he would never have come on his own…replace the old…Danny and Rachel, and their fucked up marriage and attempt to reunite that didn't work. Didn't work and left Danny open to finding Gabby.

Steve smiles softly when he thinks of how his partner reacts to Dr. Asano. Giddy as a schoolboy, just as tongue-tied and, Steve thinks, not unlike he was the first time he met Catherine.

There's definitely a strange rhythm between himself and Danny. Damned if he knows how to properly label it though, and damned if he cares that he can't.

The Law of Gestation

"Things cannot be rushed. Everything takes time to manifest. You must first plant the seed, and then you must give the Universe time to make that seed grow. You must nourish it, protect it, focus on nurturing it, and it will become as it should."

Steve thinks about his sister, and about how they've become closer than they ever were as children, since their father's death. He thinks about how seeing her after ten years made him feel, how he wanted nothing more than to cling to her like she was the memory of his past rolled up into one small package.

How her kidnapping made him desperate with fear. How her questions about what was in the Champ box proved her intelligence and tenacity, as well as her penchant for drawing trouble in her own direction. There is definitely a seed there that's growing, flourishing, albeit slowly.

And then he thinks about this particular Law as it relates to his partner. He looks down at the gold cufflink that he's now smeared with fingerprints, and wonders what the seed was that has grown over time into the friendship they share today. A friendship that seems to become more solid no matter how many fucked up things happen to them and around them.

He's not sure what that seed was, or who planted it first. Maybe it was Danny with his fist to Steve's jaw, planting a seed that said I'm here, I'll back you up, but you will never have the upper hand, you fucker. Sure enough, Danny never makes things easy. But, Steve can admit, he does make things better. Steve would be bored to the point where he'd be blowing things up just for fun with a partner that agreed with him all the time.

Or maybe Steve's the one who planted the seed when he stole Danny's case out from under him with one phone call to the governor. Or maybe, if he wants to get esoteric about things, the seed was planted before, with Danny and Rachel's marriage coming to an end. Or with the birth of a little girl who became the sole reason for Danny to live.

Perhaps the seed was on Steve's side, planted way back when his mother died and he was shipped off to the mainland. Maybe the trauma of that experience, that caused Steve to make the decisions he made about how to live his life, were where everything had started. Or maybe even before that, back to his birth, or Danny's birth. Their parents' births.

Steve's head is starting to spin to the point where he has to shake it to right his thoughts. If everything is by some sort of Design, or if Fate really exists, or if the Universe really and truly has a plan for everything and everyone, then who knows how far back he might have to go to find the one seed that led to this very moment in this very location with the very people he now finds himself surrounded by?

He resolves to stop thinking about it before he really and truly does get that aneurism Danny's always on about.

The Law of Transmutation

"Energy moves in and out of physical form," the shaman said on the last day, when Steve was finishing tying his boot laces and stuffing the supplies the village gave his team into his pack. "The more you focus on what you desire, the more you will move the energy of the Universe into making what you desire come to you."

"You can't make things happen with your mind," Steve had countered as he'd zipped up the pack.

The shaman had smiled, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. He'd run a hand through his hair in seeming exasperation and gestured expansively like he was trying to indicate everything that existed. "The Universe's path is created by the energy of your thoughts, my friend," he'd said.

Sitting up on the edge of the couch, Steve finds himself staring at the cufflink cradled in his hand. The way the shaman's eyes had crinkled. The color of his eyes. He'd been old, his hair snow white. His skin was dark from the sun, but he'd been a white man, no doubt about it. Steve knew even back then that those who lived on the Steppes were a mixture of Nordic, Russian and sometimes a little Chinese ancestry – far less Asian-looking than most realized – and so the man's physical appearance hadn't surprised him at all once he'd become coherent enough to take note of it.

"You are creating your path with every thought you have," the shaman had continued, and he'd smiled widely as Steve had turned to go.

Steve shoots to his feet, the cufflink dropping from his hand like a hot coal. That smile. But…it's impossible. He and Danny are the same age, there's no way even if reincarnation exists that the shaman out there in the barrenness of the Steppes could have anything to do with the New Jersey cop who's become his partner. His confidante. His most staunch supporter and yet his most adamant accuser when he steps out of line.

The eyes, though.

The smile.

Steve looks up as a familiar figure enters his living room. He stares at Danny for a moment. A long moment, as Danny…as Danny smiles at him by way of greeting.

The eyes. The way they crinkle at the edges.

The color of them.

The shape of his mouth. The smile.

Steve shakes his head and swallows hard.

"Hey, Rambo, you look like you've just seen a ghost. What gives?"

Steve's gaze lingers for a second or two before he looks down to find where the dropped cufflink rolled to. "Found this," he manages to say, folding in half to pluck it from the area rug. He rights himself and holds out his hand.

Danny moves forward, running a hand through his hair.

Like the shaman.

Danny's arms open wide, palms-up, as though trying to wrap his arms around everything that exists.

Expansively. Just like the shaman.

"I never thought I'd see that again," Danny says, reaching out and gently taking the small piece of metal. "Gracie gave me these the last year Rachel and I were married," he explains as he tucks it into the small pocket just above the larger one on his right hip. "Thank you, my friend."

"The Universe's path is created by the energy of your thoughts, my friend."

Steve feels the air whoosh out of his lungs. Danny moves forward and catches him as he curls forward under assault from his own mind. His mind that's rebelling against him thinking something impossible.

"Danny," he pants as his partner maneuvers him to the couch without a word.

"Steve, you okay?" Danny asks, settling him onto a thick soft cushion before he falls down.

"Where were you eight years ago?" Steve asks, leaning forward as he tries to catch his breath.

"What?"

"Eight years ago," Steve repeats, then looks up into the blue eyes. How could he have forgotten the shaman's eyes when faced with Danny's nearly every day for almost two years now? "October, two thousand-three."

Danny nods and looks down at his own feet, which shuffle uncomfortably. "Gracie was nineteen months old when I got shot in the line of duty," Danny explains, then looks up to meet Steve's eyes. "I was in a coma from the second of October through the twentieth."

Danny's personnel file comes rushing back to Steve in full Technicolor, but he doesn't remember seeing anything about an injury that severe. Wounded in the line of duty, yes, but nothing about extended medical leave or comas. Danny seems to read his mind. "It happened too long ago for HPD to want the details," he explains with a shrug. "It's there if you dig, though."

And Steve never had. He's never dug into Danny's past. He's simply taken everything at face value. Always. The revelation stuns him.

"You were in a coma."

Danny nods. "Yeah."

So maybe – just maybe – all of this actually makes sense somehow.

"You okay?" Danny asks again.

Steve feels a surge of emotion run through him, but he'll never ever tell Danny about this. He'll never be able to explain it without sounding like a complete nutcase, and especially to Danny, who thinks he's insane already.

But this, right here? This, this…thing…he and Danny share? It started longer ago than two years inside the McGarrett garage. Somehow, eight full years before, Danny was there for Steve, working through or in or with that shaman. Maybe the shaman had been aware the whole time, had let Danny into him, allowed him to work through him, because he'd known. Regardless of how it happened, though, Steve's now fully aware that it did. That the shaman contained Daniel Williams, as strange as it sounds.

Steve's as certain of that fact, however, as he is of his own name.

Vibration. Relativity. Cause and Effect.

Polarity. Rhythm. Gestation.

Transmutation.

"I'm good, Danny," Steve says, rising steadily to his feet, a warm feeling flooding through him as things seem to come to order in his mind, seem to sort themselves out, seem to settle into a place that means for the first time in his life, Steve's actually comfortable with what's in there. "I'm good now."

Steve's not one to believe in mumbo-jumbo and yet here's Danny standing before him. Danny with the shaman's eyes, the shaman's crinkling skin at the corners of those eyes, the shaman's lips and smile. Running his hand through his hair, calling Steve 'my friend' so many times over the course of their partnership…

Coincidences?

Steve's not sure he's ever believed in those.

The small things Danny and his daughter have been leaving at Steve's home are nothing more than physical, tangible reminders of seven things Danny left him with eight years ago, when the real Danny was in a coma, and by some strange force of the Universe, was sent to invade a shaman's body to save Steve's life. Little notes left maybe on purpose, maybe because the Universe wants it that way, to lead Steve back to this simple truth that he and Danny met before they actually met.

He wonders if Danny has any clue. If Danny's spent the last two years wondering why and how Steve looks so familiar, feels so comfortable. If maybe Danny does feel it or know it, but only subconsciously. Or if he thinks it was all a coma-induced dream, fantasy, fairy tale.

Or maybe Danny doesn't have a clue at all, any more than Steve did before today. No conscious or subconscious recognition. Steve wonders if one day something will trigger it for Danny, as the items around Steve's house triggered it for him.

Danny tilts his head sideways a bit, and seems to study Steve, keen eyes acting like they're trying to read straight through his skull into his mind. Maybe even into his soul. "One of these days," he says quietly, "I'm going to make you tell me what that was all about."

"Fair enough," Steve replies with a smile, clapping Danny on the back. "Now, how about some steaks on the grill?"

Maybe he will tell Danny one day. Maybe he won't. But it doesn't really matter either way, because Steve? Steve knows. Steve believes.

And that makes all the difference to him.