E Ho'okō Kuleana
(To Do One's Duty)
A/N: Remember when I said I'd warn you guys if I ever wrote a death!fic? Well, this is it. You have been warned.
I started writing this story about a month ago, after putting it off for over two years. I tried to question my muse's timing, but she insisted that I go on. So I did. Then the news of H50 ending came out, and everything fell into place.
Apparently, this is how I dealt with it, how I deal with grief: I write it. With Alex's words echoing in my head (he said during the last Sunset on the Beach that he felt that, in the end, his character should die, sacrificing for something really important), I tried to come up with a storyline that would fit his idea and do Steve justice. My pain became Danny's pain, my anger became Danny's anger, and I finished the story trying to give my favorite character a proper ending. It also doesn't help that my whole nation is on lockdown so all I have lately is free time and sad thoughts.
I know a lot of you don't read death fics, and I understand if you choose to skip this. I just needed to write it and now that it's done, I'm putting it out there before the finale airs.
A big thank you to my friend Susan who, despite being already emotional over the show's ending, agreed to read this and lost even more sleep, and to Phoebe for giving me the final push to post it.
Story's set somewhere after 10x19 but before the finale. It stands on its own, so you don't need to be up to date with the episodes to read it.
The title is a tribute to Alex's first episode as a director.
'To those before us
To those amongst us
To those we will see on the other side
Lord let me not prove unworthy of my Brothers.'
-Bradley "Cav" Cavner
It happened on a Sunday.
Danny would always remember it because it was the day his life changed forever.
The first day off in over two weeks, so all they were supposed to do was rest, be lazy, and just thoroughly enjoy their time together.
Steve had been jittery that day, bouncing off with nervous energy as if on some unconscious level, he knew what was going to happen. Danny had blamed it on the caffeine, noticing when he'd woken up that the pot in the machine was nearly empty. Without uttering a word Steve had started another, handing him a cup a few minutes later, and he'd cursed out loud when the dark liquid had burned his tongue.
If only he had known…
He'd take a burned tongue any day if it meant...
An amused expression on his face, his partner had just stood there, waiting for the storm to pass. Letting him blow off some steam so that they could go on with their day. Then, out of the blue, he'd thanked Danny for always being there for him. An uncharacteristic, heartfelt display of emotions the blond had tried to explain but failed.
In a strange, foreboding kind of way, it all made sense now.
A strangled sob escaped Danny's lips and he shifted to his side, away from the window and the morning light that dared to filter inside the room. How could the sun rise as if nothing had happened? How could the rest of the world go on with their lives when his own didn't make sense anymore?
There were voices outside the door, people he had no interest in seeing crowding the house. Waiting, as if expecting him to get out of bed and go back to normal.
Normal.
He didn't know what normality was anymore.
Just that everything — talking, walking, breathing — everything hurt, a deep physical ache that had nestled inside his chest and spread throughout his body.
Just his life before and after that day, and the knowledge that the after was a place he didn't want to live in.
He had never considered the possibility that Steve wouldn't be around so he had no idea what to do, or how to feel, because how was he supposed to react to something he couldn't comprehend?
Angry tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over. He didn't bother to wipe them, knowing there would be more, just grabbed one of the pillows and burrowed his face in it, hoping it would swallow him whole so that he'd disappear completely.
Friends had gathered around him, foregoing work and personal obligations to make sure he had everything he needed.
He wanted to ignore them too.
They couldn't give him what he needed.
No one could give him what he needed.
They were all going through the days on autopilot, stumbling around in a daze, constantly moving because if they stopped to think about their loss they would inevitably fall apart.
All the people Steve had surrounded himself with, the ohana that had loved and supported him since his return to the island, was now completely lost without him.
"The Governor's been kidnapped."
"What?"
The high-pitched reply betrayed all of Danny's surprise as he watched his partner's expression go from relaxed to concerned and tried to absorb the news.
He couldn't have possibly heard it right.
Steve pressed the phone back to his ear and gave him a slight nod of confirmation while he continued to listen, promising whoever was on the other end of the line that they were on their way. The set jaw and tense shoulders just added to the sense of urgency that had suddenly enveloped the room.
"About an hour ago," he explained as soon as he ended the call. "She was on her way to an art gallery opening."
"How— I mean, who...?"
"Don't know. Two members of her security detail have been killed, a third one's being rushed to Queen's. Duke says they struck with surgical precision so it might have been premeditated."
Even as they spoke, they were both already moving. In cases like this, with high-value targets in danger, time was of the essence.
"So much for a relaxing day, huh?" Danny said as he went through his list of priorities.
Pants.
Shoes.
Gun and ID.
Steve sighed. The look in his eyes was almost apologetic, as if the crime was his fault and he was sorry for ruining Danny's day.
Danny pursed his lips, shrugged it off with a wave of the hand, and went to fill Eddie's bowl while his friend finished getting dressed.
There would be more Sundays, right? They'd take a rain check on this one and wait for another.
His last thought before closing the door to Steve's house was that no day that started with a kidnapped government official was ever a good one.
The crime scene reminded him of the last time Wo Fat had taken his partner. There were tire marks, bullet holes and shattered glass all around. Danny sighed as he looked around, pushing the bad memories to the back of his mind.
Steve had screeched to a halt behind an HPD cruiser and jumped out of the Camaro with his aneurysm face on, immediately starting to assess the situation and coordinate with Sergeant Lukela and the Governor's personal security detail.
Everybody was on high alert, the dire predicament quickening their steps and heightening their senses.
According to witnesses, Mahoe's sedan was waiting at a red light when it was ambushed by another vehicle, possibly a van. The kidnappers had opened fire in broad daylight and left less than a minute later, dragging the woman along with them.
Duke was right.
These guys were professionals.
Danny relayed the last batch of information and watched Steve grow more and more distressed. The man's phone was ringing off the hook and he had next to nothing to go on with, which wasn't really the answer the Mayor and every other official wanted to hear.
The pressure was enormous. As the Governor's own task force, they were expected to do whatever was needed to bring her back unharmed.
After a fruitless sweep of the area and some convincing on Danny's part, Steve instructed the team to head to HQ. It was time to regroup and gather some evidence.
Steve and Danny would interview the staff to see if anything unusual had happened that week while Tani and Junior went through all the security cameras in the area and Lou and Quinn delved into Mahoe's schedule and phone call records.
Hours ticked by, and still they learned nothing.
Whoever these people were, they had covered their traces well.
Then Steve's phone rang.
The team gathered around the surface table, faces grim, standing still as their leader put the call on speaker for everyone to hear.
A voice at the other end of the line announced that the Governor was still alive but wouldn't be for long if they didn't do what they asked, then proceeded to send a picture of the bound and gagged woman who, despite a few cuts and bruises, didn't seem to be hurt.
The instructions were clear: release a prisoner in exchange for Mahoe's life.
Ruslan Petrovic, of East European descent, was a criminal Five-0 had brought to justice a few weeks before. Leader of a rapidly-growing criminal organization specializing in arms dealing, he had teamed up with several local and national gangs and kept law enforcement busy. A real bad guy that the Governor herself had insisted should never walk free again.
Steve shook his head as he gripped the edge of the table, clenching and unclenching his fingers around it.
It made sense. Petrovic would have the money and resources to hire mercenaries and successfully pull off something like this. They were bold, detached, efficient. Possibly ex-soldiers. Wouldn't be the first time servicemen turned their backs on the country they'd served.
The man on the phone gave them three hours.
Steve argued for five.
They eventually settled for four.
And to be sure they would be taken seriously, he sent them footage of a bomb going off in a gas station in Waianae.
"No one got hurt," he said. "This time."
It meant 'don't fuck around. Just do what I say or the Governor is next.'
As they stared in shock at the cars engulfed in flames, the Five-0 members realized they had just lost the first round.
"We're gonna get her back."
Danny put a soothing hand on Steve's shoulder, felt the muscles spasm beneath his touch.
He had followed him into the office where his partner had retreated to arrange Petrovic's release after the phone call.
HPD had confirmed that the gas station was closed, so there had been no casualties in the explosion other than a few charred vehicles having the misfortune of being parked there. The news, though welcome, had done nothing to ease the worry in the former SEAL's mind.
"We have to," was his quiet but resolute reply.
As a soldier, he had led hundreds of rescues. He was well aware of the risks, and knew better than to underestimate his opponent's skills. Still, there was a part of him that believed he could outsmart whoever was acting as Petrovic's right hand, and forge a plan that would ensure both the Governor's safety and the men's demise.
The nagging feeling in the back of his mind telling him to thread carefully was just annoying white noise he did his best to block out.
"I talked to the warden," he said, leaning back into his chair with a sigh. "They're setting everything in motion."
Danny took one of the two seats across from his desk. "You sure this is a good idea? Because personally, I think we should leave him inside his nice, 6x8 cell."
"What else am I supposed to do, Danny? These people are dangerous, we need to at least make it look like we're meeting their demands."
He wasn't about to release a criminal, of course. Steve had just arranged a transfer to an undisclosed location so that to any mole inside the prison it would look like they were going to bring him to the exchange.
He scrubbed at his face, placed the heels of his palms against his eyes. He looked like he had aged three years in just a few hours.
"I'll figure something out."
"You coming to Charlie's recital next week?" Danny asked to defuse the tension in the room.
Steve's whole demeanor changed and his lips curved in delight. "Of course I am. Wouldn't miss it for the world!"
It was true. Ever since the kid had given him a handmade, personalized invitation to the show the week before, he'd been looking forward to seeing him in his class' rendition of "The Wizard of Oz".
"Good. 'Cause he's very excited about playing the lion. He said, and I quote, 'the lion is the best, because he's brave even if he thinks he's not, and he rules over all the animals in the forest'.
The smile on Steve's face widened, if possible, even more.
It lasted until Junior waved at them from the surface table.
The warehouse in Sand Island where the exchange was going to take place had an ominous look to it that made the hair on Danny's neck stand on end.
It was accessed by an empty, barren road and surrounded by a rusted chain-link fence. Inside, the curved roof loomed twenty-five feet above them. There was old machinery lining up the walls, and a discarded forklift near the entrance that partially concealed them from sight.
Danny turned to look at Steve, saw the steely determination in his eyes and drew courage from it, squaring his shoulders and preparing for what was about to come.
Steve let out a long, steadying breath and gave him the 'okay' sign to proceed.
Unbeknownst to both of them, that sign marked the beginning of the end.
"Danny? It's me, man, I'm coming in."
Lou Grover's voice was uncharacteristically low. It was laced with grief, exhaustion, and a tiny amount of fear.
"Leave me alone," came the anguished reply from inside.
The former SWAT Captain sighed. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his forehead against the door's wooden surface.
"Look, I know you're upset. We all are. And we all wish that there was something we could do."
Danny knew that was true. Rationally, he realized that all his friends were there to help, and that he should get up, shower and get dressed.
It was almost time.
But he didn't want to. He just wanted to stay there, where everything smelled like Steve and he could close his eyes and pretend his world hadn't shattered.
He had never experienced grief this bad before.
It felt like Steve had taken his heart and soul leaving only an empty vessel to keep him alive.
Sure, he had been devastated when he'd lost Matt, but Steve had been his everything for over ten years. His friend, his rock, his hero. All the most meaningful memories of the last decade were tied to him, playing like a broken record in his head.
Damn him and his hero complex, Danny wanted to scream. His selflessness, his need to take responsibility for everything that was wrong in the world and his delusion that he could cheat death.
News flash, he couldn't.
The son of a bitch was as human as the next guy. His bones could break and his organs could fail and he could bleed... bleed until his heart gave out.
"You know Steve wouldn't have wanted to see you like this," the older man said as he threw caution to the wind and stepped into the room.
"Yeah, well, Steve's not around so I don't need to worry about that!" Danny spat out angrily, propping himself on his elbows and pinning Lou with the iciest of glares.
As soon as the words left his mouth he stilled, a horrified expression on his face.
A few feet from him, Lou wore an equally appalled face.
Fighting a sudden nausea clawing at his throat, he scrambled out of bed and ran into the bathroom. The door closed with a thud behind him but he paid no attention to it as he fell down on his knees in front of the toilet bowl and threw up for what felt like forever, berating himself for even thinking that his life might be better without his best friend in it.
Once the queasiness died down, he slowly stood up and willed his shaky legs to reach the sink. Carefully avoiding to look at himself in the mirror, he rinsed his mouth and grabbed one of the towels from the rack nearby.
It smelled like Steve, and more tears spilled out.
When he finally came out he found Lou sitting on the bed, waiting.
"I know you don't wanna go," he said softly. "Hell, none of us want to, but if you don't do this you're going to regret it for the rest of your life."
Danny's breath hitched, and he squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know how to do that, man. I'm not... I'm not ready to say goodbye."
There are moments that define who you are.
Seconds that shape the course of your life where you have to think of nothing but what is right, what is needed to get the job done.
Steve's life had been full of those.
Since he'd joined the Navy, every personal feeling – every need, every desire, had taken a backseat to duty.
To the greater good.
He was okay with it, most of the time. It was the path he'd chosen, what he had devoted his life to. He was a soldier. A team leader. Whatever he needed to do to keep others safe, he'd do it without a second thought. It had been ingrained into him for decades, and his altruistic nature had embraced it completely. The sacrifices that came with it a necessary burden to bear.
That day, as he heard his voice echo inside the warehouse and turned around to make sure his partner couldn't hear him, he had the sudden realization that the next few words coming out of his mouth were going to seal his fate in an extreme, irreparable way.
"She didn't, alright? I did! You want to hold someone to account for what happened to your boss? That's me. I'm the one who chased his sorry ass and put him in prison. You don't want the Governor, you want me!"
It wasn't technically a lie, as Five-0 had indeed brought Petrovic to justice after a three-week hunt. Mahoe had just made sure the door to his cell wouldn't open up anytime soon and that his accommodation would be as unpleasant as he deserved.
His declaration was met with silence. He heard the other man breathe through the phone and stood there, shifting from one foot to another, hoping that he'd take the bait.
It would at least buy them some time.
They had identified the guy as Terrence "T-Bone" Russell, former Marine, an impressive career that had derailed a few years earlier when he'd switched to the dark side and become a frighteningly efficient mercenary killing machine.
So far, they'd found no record of him entering the island, but the large sum of money deposited in his bank account prior to the kidnapping was evidence enough that he was the man behind it.
He worked alone, occasionally hiring local muscle when the job demanded it. In this case, it was a crew of Asian thugs loaned by one of Petrovic's associates.
Steve was proud of the impressive amount of information his team had acquired in such a short time. Everyone had stepped up to the plate and supported him as best as they could.
"What do you say, Russell?" he pressed. "Let's talk things over. You and I, soldier to soldier. HPD's outside waiting for my word, but I need to see the Governor first. I know you can see us, so you know that I'm telling the truth."
There were two units cordoning off the building's main entrance, along with the Camaro and Lou's Suburban. Thermal imaging had revealed no one was inside so Steve had ordered them all to stand by while he and Danny went in and reconned the location.
"North entrance, second door to the left. Ten minutes."
Russell ended the call before Steve had a chance to reply, leaving him frazzled and with a sinking feeling of impending doom. He closed his eyes, exhaled slowly. It was not a breakthrough but it was progress, and considering the mess they were in, it was more than he'd hoped to achieve.
"What'd he say?" Danny asked as soon as he spotted him.
Steve had been adamant that his partner did not move for any reason until he got back. It wasn't fair and he knew it. Danny deserved to know what was going on just as much as he did. Only in dangerous situations like this, with a high mortality risk, the Special Operator in him took over and the will to keep him safe overrode every other thought.
He could live with an angry Danny, but he certainly couldn't cope with a dead one.
"He agreed to meet me."
The blond knitted his brows. "So that's your brilliant plan? You're gonna talk to him?"
Steve sighed. He knew it was coming. "Yes, Danny, I'm gonna talk to him, and while I do that I'm gonna get eyes on the Governor and convince him to let her go."
"This is insane, not to mention potentially catastrophic. This guy doesn't talk, Steven. He kills, and he's very good at it."
"You haven't called me 'Steven' in a while…"
Their eyes locked.
Steve looked contrite, Danny was scared.
It was a situation that none of them liked but had to accept.
They all knew there wasn't going to be an exchange. As soon as Russell realized that they weren't going to hand him Petrovic, he was gonna kill the Governor. Steve needed to do something to take the heat off of her. Once Mahoe was safe, they could call the cavalry and engage him.
"Let's go, Danny, we gotta move." He checked his watch, adjusted his rifle. "Lou, we're heading towards the north entrance. You guys stay put until I tell you."
"Steve, we see movement outside that area, I think they're coming," the older man replied through the comm link.
"Copy that."
"Be safe, brother."
With careful, synchronized steps, they inched their way towards the other side of the building, finding the half-closed door Steve had been instructed to reach with one minute to spare.
It was a reinforced steel door, which Danny found weird considering the facility was just a disused linen company.
There were voices on the other side of it. Scuffing noises, muffled grunts.
Steve pressed his fingers against the cold surface, felt a shiver run down his spine. He turned to look at Danny and held his best friend's gaze for a long moment before pushing the door open.
There were six people inside.
Senses on high alert, he surveyed the room. Mahoe was sitting in a chair on the far corner, flanked by two heavily-armed men. She was trying to put up a brave front but there were tear marks on her cheeks and her usually perfect, shoulder-length hair was now a mess of tangled strands that added to the wild, scared look she failed to conceal. Their eyes met, and he did his best to reassure her.
Two more thugs were standing on either side of an old desk. In the middle, hands clasped on the wooden table and legs stretched in front of him, the man that would forever alter their lives.
Terrence Russell was a seasoned warrior. Dressed in all black, he looked both partners over before settling his gaze on Steve. Tanned skin, closely cropped hair, he had high cheekbones and a well-defined chin and nose. Muscles rippled across every part of his body. Along with his stern face and the deep brown eyes, there was no mistaking the intimidating glare and the air of confidence he exuded.
He pushed his chair back, rose to his feet. "Commander McGarrett, you wanted to talk. Soldier to soldier."
Steve tightened the grip on his weapon and stepped into the room. "Yes."
Danny followed, remaining a few feet behind.
"Despite my... disagreements with the military," Russell continued, "I have respect for people like you. That's the only reason you and your partner are still alive and talking." With a nonchalance that grated on both of the Five-0 members' nerves he walked around the desk, sizing Danny up as he did so, and stopped in front of Steve. "You have three minutes."
Danny swallowed hard.
Shit.
This guy was for real.
"Let the Governor go," Steve said, cutting right to the chase, voice strong and steady and an equally impassive expression on his face.
Russell crossed his arms over his chest. "Where's Petrovic?"
Behind him, his two bodyguards closed the distance between them and resumed their positions at his sides.
Steve glanced sideways at Danny, taking a moment to weigh his options. He saw the concern in his friend's eyes, and it strengthened the belief that he couldn't lie to him. "He's not here," he admitted.
All four henchmen raised their weapons.
"You disappoint me, Commander. I thought we had an agreement."
"You don't need her," Steve insisted.
Russell smiled. A toothy, creepy smile that set off all the alarm bells in both of the detectives' minds.
"Your reputation precedes, you, McGarrett," he sneered. "I know all about your tendencies to break the rules, so I came prepared." Reaching for his pocket, he produced a small box with a button on it and raised his arm, showing it like a trophy. "I was hoping not to use this, but you leave me no choice."
Steve paled, recognizing the device immediately.
"Steve…" Danny whispered behind him.
Without as much as a second thought, Russell pushed the button. "This is on you, Commander," he admonished as the numbers 15:00 started to glow in red on the small, digital screen of the bomb's detonator.
Fifteen minutes.
Taken aback by the sudden and unexpected turn of events, Steve flinched as though reeling from a punch. Sweat started rolling down the back of his neck as he thought about all the innocent lives he'd just put in danger.
He had miscalculated, making an unjustifiable error of judgement.
His eyes fixed on the clock, on the seconds inexorably ticking by.
There wasn't enough time, not enough resources to avoid another blast.
But Steve McGarrett was not a quitter.
There had to be something he could do.
"Danny, check on the Governor," he said suddenly. "Make sure she's okay."
Danny's eyes widened.
While he wasn't surprised to see Steve take charge and challenge enemies even in the most dangerous situations, it did strike him as odd that he'd call the shots in a room full of people holding assault rifles and a pissed-off killer who had just showed them who was boss.
He hesitated, tilted his head sideways to search his friend's gaze.
"Just go!" Steve urged, silently apologizing to him for the outburst. He didn't mean to be harsh, there was simply no time to waste.
As soon as his partner was out of earshot, he moved closer to Russell.
"How many?" he asked, anger sparking in his eyes. He knew there was more than one bomb, just as well as he knew that even if they had their locations, the bomb squads would never make it in time.
"Three. And before you think this is all a ruse, let me assure you that I have done my homework, and that the soccer tournament going on in Kapiolani Park today is a huge hit. Lots of kids playing, the whole Sunday crowd. Same goes for the other two locations I've chosen."
Steve's hand curled into a fist at his side. The thought of even one innocent dying made him physically sick to his stomach, let alone the threat that hundreds might be at risk because of his actions.
Shopping malls, parks, hospitals. The bombs could be literally anywhere.
"What do you want?"
"I want what I asked," Russell shrugged, as if the answer was so obvious it didn't even warrant a response. "And I want you," he added, eyes gleaming with the knowledge of his absolute power. "You lied to me, and I hate to be lied to. You wanna save all these people, you surrender to me. I let your partner and the Governor go, you stay."
The implications of his enemy's request wasn't lost on Steve, and yet he felt strangely relieved at the thought that there could be a chance to save everyone.
His shoulders sagged, and he lowered his weapon.
Everything became clear at that moment, all of the possibilities and courses of action narrowing down to the only sensible option. "Okay," he agreed.
He turned to look at Danny, heart already aching for what he was about to put him through but positive that one day he'd understand.
Satisfied with the answer and the way his carefully-crafted plan was working, Russell nodded to the thugs watching Mahoe. The two men immediately moved aside.
"Give me a moment," Steve asked. "I'll be right back." The glare he received didn't waver his resolve. "You have my word."
Permission received, he rushed over to the corner where Danny was reassuring the Governor, careful to avoid looking at his partner who was instead so versed in Steve's expressions to understand at first glance that something wasn't right.
"What's going on?" were the first words out of his mouth. The uneasiness that had crept into his mind as soon as they'd entered the room had become stronger and stronger as the events unfolded, fueled by Steve's suspicious behavior, and he was now positive that his friend was hiding something from him.
The former SEAL didn't reply, focusing all his attention on the scared woman in front of him. "Let's go, ma'am," he said softly. "It's all over." He pulled out his knife, cut the zip ties restraining her wrists and helped her to her feet. "Come on, let's get you out of here."
She gave him a grateful look, leaning on him as she stood up and allowed both to help.
Danny looped his arm around her back, taking some of her weight. His brain kept sending him warning signals, telling him that it was all too easy. A man like Russell didn't release hostages without asking for something in return.
Something much more valuable.
He glanced nervously towards Steve, who had his thousand-yard stare on and was quickening his pace to lead them outside.
"Hey, I asked you a question!"
"It's alright, Danny, I got this."
"What do you mean you got this? What are we doing about the bomb?"
"Don't worry about it."
A chill passed through Danny at the firm, determined way in which he said that. "Steve, you're not making sense..." His eyes met the Governor's, and the frown on her face told him she was suspecting something as well. "Steve?"
His fears were confirmed a moment later when they reached the threshold. With a hard, desperate shove, Steve unceremoniously pushed them out of the room and stepped back inside, locking the door behind him.
Heart beating wildly, a lump the size of Texas in his throat he stayed there, hands pressed against the steel surface, trying to breathe through the heartbreak tearing him up inside.
It had been one of the hardest decisions of his life, and yet the easiest.
He had always known that if it came down to his life or Danny's he'd choose him, whether his best friend liked it or not.
Danny stumbled, almost lost his footing but managed to recover before he and Mahoe fell to the ground. Stunned by his partner's actions, it took him a moment to process what had happened. When he did, he stared in open-mouthed shock at the closed door between them.
"Steve! What the hell are you doing? Hey! Open the door!" He started banging on it, the dull sound reverberating all around. "I said open the damn door! What the hell is the matter with you? They're gonna kill you!"
And then it hit him.
That was exactly the plan.
Sacrificing himself for the greater good.
Anger flared within him, prompted by the breath-stealing panic that had started to constrict his lungs. "Steve! Don't do this! Don't you dare do this!"
Beside him, Governor Mahoe lifted a shaky hand to her mouth, a stricken expression on her face.
"Steve!"
He kept pounding, slammed both shoulders repeatedly against the door with all the strength he had.
It didn't budge.
Breathing harshly, he unholstered his gun and raised it, ready to fire, until he realized he couldn't shoot his way through steel.
"Come on!"
The scream that tore out of his throat was the most agonizing sound Steve had ever heard.
A sob escaped his lips and he rammed his own fisted hand against the door as his eyes filled with tears. He felt wrecked for betraying him, even if he'd had no other choice.
It had to be him.
Danny had to go home to his kids. He needed to see them grow up, be there for them through their hopefully long, healthy lives.
That had always been his number one priority.
"I'm sorry, Danny," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. Russell was watching him with rapt, wicked attention, and he didn't want to give him the satisfaction of showing him weakness. "I can't let innocent people die because of me." Danny would understand. Not today, or in the near future, but he would eventually get over it. "I love you, buddy. Tell Charlie and Gracie I love them and... tell Mary I'm sorry."
On the other side of the door, Danny let out another frustrated cry.
"No! I'm not gonna stand here and watch you die, you hear me? Open this door! You can't do this to me after all we've been through! You can't!" He knew Steve, what he stood for and the principles he lived by, and even if it hurt so much he could barely breathe, he knew the man wouldn't back down. So Danny kept screaming, letting out all of his anger as if it would lessen the unbearable pain he was feeling. "You're a selfish son of a bitch! I hate you!"
Concerned voices came through the comm link, asking questions and demanding answers.
Steve heard them too and for a moment, his resolve wavered.
This was his family, the people that had helped him when he felt lost and untethered.
He didn't trust his voice but he had to say something to them.
"It's been an honor leading you all," he said, quietly enough so that it wouldn't be heard by anyone but them. "I couldn't have asked for a better team. For better people to come into my life. I love you, guys. Please look after Danny when I'm gone."
Then he squeezed his eyes closed and took off the earpiece so he wouldn't hear their replies. Blowing out a long breath, he schooled his features and turned away from the door, taking a few steps towards the center of the room where Russell was waiting for him.
"I did what you asked."
The other man nodded. "I admire your bravery, Commander." His boots made a rhythmic noise against the floor as he walked, his steps solid and regular like a soldier. "One more thing," he continued, handing him a cellphone.
Through the sound of Danny's voice still shouting outside Steve made one last call to arrange Petrovic's release, certain that his team would capture him again and do him justice.
It brought a smile to his enemy's face.
The victorious smug was unnerving, but he tried not to let it get under his skin.
As two of the thugs stripped him of his weapons, Steve gave the man an expectant look, hoping that the same respect that had granted him the meeting in the first place would make him keep his word.
It did.
Russell tapped a few keys on his cellphone and turned it towards him. On one corner of the four-part split screen, Steve saw the countdown stop at 4:36 and the numbers disappear completely. The other three showed cameras with views of Kapiolani Park, Ala Moana Center and Queen's Hospital. Almost dizzy with relief, he watched children playing, people shopping at the mall and patients tended to by doctors and nurses.
This was good.
This was worth it.
His sacrifice wouldn't be for nothing.
"Thank you," he whispered as if the man wasn't about to kill him.
Danny was still pounding on the door, giving orders to the rest of the team to do something and breach if necessary, and Steve wanted to tell him that it was alright, that he'd done what was needed.
The island was safe.
"Have you ever thought about death, McGarrett? Where would you have wanted it to happen? As a decorated soldier, I'm sure the thought has crossed your mind."
Steve pictured the view from his backyard, the strip of beach that had soothed his soul so many times. He ached at the thought of not being able to see it anymore. "The sea," he admitted in an unexpected moment of candor. "I've always felt at peace there, even during wartime."
Russell swung the gun from his shoulder holster, wrapping his calloused fingers around it. "I suppose it's a shame then that it's gonna happen in an old, dirty warehouse."
It was.
If he'd had a say in it, this wouldn't have been the setting of Steve's choice. But life had rarely been kind to him, so he figured it was a fitting ending to his troubled, pain-filled existence.
"On your knees. Now."
Steve saw the smooth metal glimmer in the daylight and did as instructed.
This was it.
After countless brushes with death, this was the day he was really going to die.
The knowledge that it would not be in vain and that the people he loved were safe gave him the courage to face his last challenge the way he'd been taught to, with unwavering courage and steady resolve.
Hands behind his back, he tightened his jaw and tried to block out everything around him. It didn't work completely. Danny's voice still managed to filter through the soundproofed corner of his mind he'd retreated to. Through it all, he'd never stopped calling his name and begging him not to do it.
A memory rose from the past and he clung to it: he and Danny pointing guns at each other. An explosive first meeting that had paved the road for the most significant relationship in his life. As more followed, and he focused on his best friend's smiling face, he started to recite the old creed he'd learned during his time as a SEAL.
'My loyalty to Country and Team is beyond reproach. I humbly serve as a guardian to my fellow Americans, always ready to defend those who are unable to defend themselves. I do not advertise the nature of my work, nor seek recognition for my actions. I voluntarily accept the inherent hazards of my profession, placing the welfare and security of others before my own.'
He felt the barrel of the gun against his forehead and closed his eyes while the words he had lived by all of his adult life kept flowing.
'I serve with honor on and off the battlefield. The ability to control my emotions and my actions, regardless of circumstance, sets me apart from other men. Uncompromising integrity is my standard. My character and honor are steadfast.'
Danny was still yelling outside, cursing at him and at the insanity of it all.
Steve pictured the two of them sitting in the chairs overlooking the ocean. "I love you, brother..." he whispered as his lips curved into a smile.
Then he raised his head, staring into his enemy's eyes.
'I lead by example in all situations. I will never quit. I persevere and thrive on adversity. My Nation expects me to be physically harder and mentally stronger than my enemies. If knocked down, I will get back up, every time. I will draw on every remaining ounce of strength to protect my teammates and to accomplish our mission. I am never out of the fight.'
Right before the gun went off, he could've sworn he'd heard Joe White's voice over the ringing in his ears. 'You can stand down now, Sailor. The mission has been completed.'
A moment later, his world faded to black.
"Danno?"
Grace hesitated in front of the closed door. They had told her not to go in, that her father wasn't in the best state and had requested not to see anyone, but she'd purposefully ignored them all. She was a Williams, and her heritage came with the same strong will and caring attitude that had guided him all along.
He needed her, and she was there to help.
She bit her lip, put her hand on the knob. "Dad, it's me. Can I come in?"
Hearing no response, the young girl opened the door and stepped inside the bedroom.
She knew her father would take his partner's death hard. It was the reason she had jumped on the first plane to the island the minute her mother had called, but she wasn't prepared for the sight of his crumpled form huddled in a corner, head between his hands, shoulders shaking with silent grief.
"Danno?" she tried again, crouching in front of him and putting what she hoped would be a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Danny raised his head. Slowly, as if even such a small movement hurt. His eyes were puffy and red, the tears he didn't bother to hide running freely down his cheeks.
"I didn't want you to see me like this..." he croaked. His voice was hoarse, his tone defeated.
Grace pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry about uncle Steve…" she said as her brown eyes welled up with tears and her lips started to tremble. "I'm so so sorry..."
He leaned into the embrace, resting his head on her shoulder to relish in the small comfort it provided.
"His last words were for you... He wanted me to tell you that he loved you. He loved you and Charlie so much…"
"I loved him too, dad. I hope he knew that."
Danny nodded, remembering all the times Steve's face had lit up just from being around them. His kids were the closest thing he had experienced to having a family of his own, and he'd never failed to show his gratitude over the years for being allowed to be part of their lives.
"He knew," he reassured her in a chocked whisper.
She sat next to him on the floor and reached for his hand, taking it between her own. Danny draped his arm across her back and brought her closer, kissing the top of her head.
"When did you get here?" he asked, realizing she should have been in college, away from the tragedies that kept plaguing his life.
"An hour ago. I came straight from the airport."
He pressed his lips together, trying his best to prevent yet another breakdown at the thought of his daughter being the adult while all he could do was sit in a corner and cry.
If the five stages of grief were really a thing, he had already gone through denial and anger, so much so that the last few days were a blur to him. He had no recollection of getting from the warehouse to the hospital, or from the hospital to his place. The first clear memory after the incident was of him opening the door to Steve's house and curling on the couch with Eddie.
He had walked, they told him.
The whole way.
After that, he recalled the moment he'd stood across from a grief-stricken Noelani and watched his best friend's body laying on the cold steel of her autopsy table, half covered by a sheet. He had thought of all the dead bodies they'd seen on that table, and how unbelievably wrong it was that Steve was now the one occupying it. When she'd offered to dress him in his uniform, Danny had left the room without a say.
Having made it past the shock and the bargaining, he was now stuck on depression, a state he wasn't sure he would ever get out of. He felt helpless, overwhelmed, unable to find a meaning to his life. Tired, heavy, numb. He needed comfort, and the only person who had always been able to reassure him was gone.
"Everyone's ready," Grace said after a while, still nestled in her father's arms. "We should go soon."
Danny scrubbed at his face.
He doubted any of them was really ready. They were just going through the motions like he was.
Unsurprisingly, Lou had stepped up as team leader, dispensing advice and reassurances to anyone in need. Alongside him, Quinn, who had known Steve for a far shorter time but held the outmost respect for him and a deep sense of gratitude. They'd both taken it upon themselves to make sure everything was taken care of.
Mahoe, still rattled about her ordeal and the sacrifice that her task-force leader had made for her and the people of Oahu, had declared the date a day of mourning. Flags would be flying at half-mast, and every business store on the island was going to close during the memorial service. Under her direct order, the city had covered all the costs of the funeral, going out if its way to make sure Steve would be honored as he deserved.
Danny had heard about all of this in passing, picking up bits of conversation as he wandered around the house.
He didn't care.
Didn't matter who paid for what, or what color was the coffin that they'd asked him to pick. He was going to witness his best friend being buried into the ground, and there was no preparing for or rationalizing that.
It would be the hardest thing he had ever done, but he had to do it.
For Steve.
For Grace.
For the family that was gathered downstairs, who needed guidance and a reason to keep going.
He slowly got up, let out a resigned sigh and eyed the black suit draped over the back of the chair.
"Give me a minute, I'll… I'll be right out."
Lou Grover drove his Suburban through the north entrance of the warehouse moments after the fatal shot. The steel of the garage door bent with the force of the impact, creating an opening large enough for him and Junior to slip through.
A heartbeat later, Danny rammed the forklift he'd ran to the opposite side to grab against the nearest wall.
Gunshot still echoing in his head and panting from exertion, he pushed his way inside the room amidst dust and debris, startling Russell and his men who did not expect to be surrounded by cops so soon after their win and so close to freedom.
Fueled by a dark rage that only surfaced in revenge when one of their own was hurt, the Five-0 members opened fire, determined not to leave witnesses behind and ending the whole siege in less than a minute.
Only then, when the noise died down and the air stilled, did they notice the familiar figure slumped to the ground.
Danny felt the air rush out of his lungs.
Time slowed down, and his vision tunneled. Suddenly there were no walls constricting them, no teammates watching him, no dead perps at their feet. It was just him and his best friend.
He wanted to move, check on him, but knew in his heart that it was too late.
And yet he'd hoped.
For a few seconds, right after his eyes fell on the unmoving body, he had wished that SuperSEAL was just pretending, faking unconsciousness and waiting for the right time to strike.
"Danny..." Lou muttered, a look of horror plastered on his face. Beside him, Junior was blinking furiously, too stunned to even believe what he was seeing.
His voice got lost in the haze clouding Danny's mind. Trapped in a limbo of pain and disbelief, the blond didn't move, talk, breathe for what seemed like hours, too afraid to be slapped in the face by a reality that right now seemed impossible to take in.
Maybe if closed his eyes...
But Steve was alone, and had already been betrayed by too many people in his life. Danny had made a promise not to leave, so he forced his rubbery legs to move and stepped forward, slowly closing the distance between them.
With each step, the finality of what had happened sank deeper and deeper, like a stake being hammered into his heart.
"Steve…" he whispered as he approached his partner's still form, his voice hoarse from all the screaming.
Letting out a pained gasp at the realization that he would never hear his voice again, he sank to his knees at his side.
If it wasn't for the blood pooling under him and the small, round hole in his forehead, he might have thought that Steve was just sleeping.
His features were relaxed as if he had finally found peace in death, his mouth slightly curled upwards by the ghost of a smile touching his lips. He could chalk it up to shock or whatever, but Danny knew Steve well enough to realize that the son of a bitch was probably glad that he'd given up his life for them.
Instinctively, he took off his gloves and reached out a hand to touch his face.
"What'd you do, huh?" he asked as his fingers trailed along Steve's face, staring at him with the fond expression that was only reserved to him and his kids, one that spoke of unconditional love and bone-deep affection. "Why'd you have to do that? We could've found a way…"
Tears shimmered in his eyes, blurring his vision.
"I'm supposed to be your backup... How can I protect you if you don't let me?"
Swallowing hard, Danny let his other hand come to rest on his friend's chest, palm flat against his heart.
A heart that was no longer beating.
So big it always put others first, neglecting his needs.
"How am I gonna do this… How am I gonna go on now?"
How could there be a him without Steve? A future without his best friend in it?
Existing when he no longer did hurt his soul in a way that would never heal.
A few tears fell as Danny gently picked up Steve's hand.
It was warm.
How could he be dead if he was warm?
He lifted it, eyes closed, and brought it to his cheek, longing for that physical touch he knew he would miss dearly.
Under his guidance, Steve had become more and more tactile over the years. He had learned to express his feelings, revealing an even more caring side that Danny had ever imagined.
"Gun!"
Lou's deep voice suddenly broke the silence that had enveloped the room.
Terrence Russell, who had somehow survived the two bullets that they'd put into him, was propped on one elbow, arm outstretched, and pointing his gun at them, ready to fire.
Danny threw himself at Steve, the will to shield him from more harm stronger than the knowledge that it wouldn't make a difference. It was just pure instinct, born out of years spent worrying about him.
The mercenary's finger never squeezed the trigger.
With a swift, SEAL-worthy move, his face a storm of rage, Junior finished him with a shot to the head, extending him the same courtesy he had showed his boss. His mentor. His friend.
The man crumpled to the ground, dead before he even touched it.
It was over.
Danny stayed like that, body draped over his friend's, long after the threat was neutralized, unable to break that last shred of contact with the man who had made his whole world brighter and the island feel like home.
The rest of the team came in, gathering around their fallen leader.
Some of them managed to hold back tears, others let them fall freely.
All felt like a piece of them had just died with him.
When Lou physically forced him to his feet so that they could move the body, Danny went limp in the older man's arms and shut down completely.
There was only so much horror a person could take in and understand.
After that, the mind just snapped.
"I didn't know it was the last time..."
Danny's voice trailed off as once more, the memory of one of the worst moments of his life flashed into his mind.
It had taken all of his strength and willpower to leave the safety of Steve's bedroom and get downstairs where the whole Five-0 family was gathered, waiting to go. He had lasted a whole minute among them, sixty seconds before he'd felt the urge to run away.
A dozen concerned faces had stared after him, until Adam had volunteered to go find him.
The lanai was as far as he'd gone.
Black shoes and uncharacteristically plain socks discarded on the deck, he was standing barefoot in the grass. Head down, hands in his pockets.
"What?"
"I hate you... That's the last thing I said to him."
"Danny..."
He felt the tears building up again. When they spilled, he hastily scrubbed them away.
"I thought we, uh… that there would be more time," he admitted. "I didn't get the chance to tell him... to thank him..." He cleared his throat and tugged at his tie, loosening it up a bit. It was a 90-degree day and the damn suit was suffocating him. Danny wanted to tear it off and burn it before it killed him too.
Adam's face twisted up in pain. Danny had seen him at his worst, and his trust in him had never wavered, not once even when everybody else thought otherwise. Seeing him like this was killing him. The shock of losing Steve was still rippling through him, but while he couldn't do anything to fix that, he still had a chance to help Danny, and he was determined to do it.
"You didn't need to," he replied. "Steve knew. Trust me, he knew. He's probably known since the day he met you. You guys never needed words to communicate how you felt about each other."
So why does this feel like the end of the world? Danny wanted to ask. Why do I feel like I'll never be able to breathe again?"
"When he got the radiation poisoning, I thought that was it, you know? That I was gonna lose him. But he pushed through, like he always did, took his medications and it felt like… like he was back to his old self again." Things had started to… slow down after Doris' death, and he'd hoped that maybe his vision of the two of them growing old together would eventually become true.
Should've known fate was just lurking around the corner.
"I can't do this..." he whispered, his earlier doubts resurfacing again.
"You can't do what?" Adam frowned.
Danny's hand made a sweeping gesture. "This. The funeral. I can't..." He took a few steps forward, stopped when his gaze landed on the Adirondack chairs by the beach. How many times had they sat there enjoying each other's company on weekends or during a tough case? Beer in hand, talking about everything and nothing or just sitting in comfortable silence.
Now he could barely stand to look at them.
While grief was eating away his insides and all that made life worth living, there was something even more powerful taking control of his being. Danny was afraid to voice it, for fear that others would agree. "I wasn't there," he said softly. A painful admission that felt like a punch to the gut. "I left him to die alone..."
"Don't say that, man, it's not true…"
"I was supposed to protect him, and I didn't. He worked up this crazy plan and I didn't even realize it until it was too late." He had failed Steve when it really mattered. The guilt over it would stay with him forever. "I let him down. I don't deserve to mourn him."
Adam laid his hand on Danny's arm. "Listen to me, man. There's nothing you could've done. Ask anybody here, ask the Governor, they're all gonna tell you the same thing." If there was something he was sure of, it was Steve's unconditional love and absolute devotion to his partner. He would've died a thousand deaths if it meant sparing him from harm. "You've known Steve better than anyone," he continued, hoping his words would sink in. "When he set his mind to something, there was no way to stop him. This is not on you. Your safety was his number one concern, and he did what he thought was best to keep everyone alive. Believe me when I tell you that had he survived this, he would've done it all over again."
It was probably true, though it didn't lessen the guilt or Danny's searing heartbreak.
"You need to say goodbye and pay your respects before they put six feet of earth between you guys."
That got through him.
Adam was right.
Even if Russell's shot still echoed in his ears.
Fifteen minutes later, Danny found himself walking toward one of the black cars parked in Steve's driveway. Grace flanked him on one side, Lou on the other, and when his steps faltered, they were quick to support him and help him inside the vehicle.
The convoy of dark limousines started to move shortly thereafter.
The sun was shining, its warm rays offensively bright and cheerful. It was as if Mother Nature was conspiring to show him that the world could and would go on without Steve.
It shouldn't, Danny wanted to scream.
Everything should've been as grey and foggy as his emotions.
He zoned out during the ride, staring at the world passing him by through the tinted window, and when Lou put a hand on his shoulder to tell him they'd arrived, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
Taking a long moment to compose himself before exiting the car, he thought of all the memorial services he had attended in the past. Two of those stood out the most, and Danny cringed at the thought that Steve was the third partner he'd lost.
Grace Tilwell.
Meka Hanamoa.
Steve McGarrett.
Killed while they were doing their job.
Dead because he had failed to protect them.
Shaking his head in disgust, Danny pulled the door open and slowly got out.
An impressive crowd was already there, filling the place to capacity.
It was overwhelming, but not really surprising to him, to see the amount of people that had showed up at the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, also known as the Punchbowl. Between his impressive career as a decorated Special Operator and his job as task-force leader, Steve had met thousands of people, and it seemed like they were all there to honor him and the sacrifice he'd made. Navy and Government officials in full dress blues, HPD officers and regular people stretching for as far as the eye could see.
It made his heart swell with love and shatter to pieces at the same time.
Grace took him by the arm, and they started walking towards their seats.
Through the haze that had accompanied him since the accident, and eyes that he feared would never be dry again, Danny saw all the people whose lives Steve had changed over the years:
The old Japanese man he'd helped get a permanent visa, sitting straight in the wheelchair pushed by his grandson, now a young man.
The father who, thanks to Steve's interceding with the Governor, had been allowed to continue his research, his son now fully cured standing by his side.
Lucy, the Aloha girl who declared that she was gonna marry him when she got old enough.
It felt like watching a sad movie montage, one of those moments specifically designed to make the audience cry. Danny didn't need the encouragement. His tears were already flowing.
His gaze scanned the crowd as he kept walking, landing on a few more familiar faces:
The ex-Navy SEAL that in a PTSD-induced outburst had holed himself up inside the USS Missouri along with half a dozen hostages and asked them to investigate his wife's death.
The Chinese mob boss that had made him fight as part of his nephew's Bruce Lee-fantasy reenactment.
Emma Warren, the NCIS Special Agent who had done what no other person had dared before: put handcuffs to his partner's wrists.
As the heaviness crushing his heart grew bigger and bigger, he feared that if he didn't sit soon he would fall down. His arm tightened around Grace's waist and he leaned into her for support.
"Almost there, Dad," she whispered into his ear, pulling him closer.
The front rows were filled with friends and family, some of which Danny hadn't seen in a while:
Odell Martin & Sang Min, looking somber and so unlike their usual cheerful selves.
Ellie Clayton, John McGarrett's old acquaintance that Steve had met a few years before.
Alicia Brown, sitting next to a grim-faced Harry Langford.
Catherine.
Kamekona and Flippa, both dressed appropriately for once in matching dark suits.
Frank Bama, who was probably going to outlive them all.
Mary.
The young woman looked just as devastated as Danny felt, clutching her daughter's hand and wiping a stream of endless tears with a tissue that would be soaked too soon.
Danny gave her a hug, kissed her on the cheek and sat down next to her.
His seat gave him an unobstructed view of the perfectly-polished, dark-stained cherry coffin draped in the American flag and flanked by the Honor Guard, and the giant picture of Steve propped up next to it. It was a professional picture taken a few months before, one that showcased his commanding presence and his qualities as leader.
Beneath that steely façade, unknown to many, was the man Danny had gotten to know: the one with the goofy smile, who got emotional watching a sunset and built sandcastles on the beach.
That was the real Steve McGarrett, those memories only his to treasure.
The Navy, at the request of the Governor, had spared no expense planning it all, from the full military honors right down to the live webcast of the service for anyone on the island or the mainland who couldn't be there.
Steve wouldn't have cared.
'Just throw me into the ocean,' he would've said, 'and give the money to someone who needs it.'
Instead he got uniformed pallbearers, a rifle salute, a bugler playing Taps and a chaplain. Even military jets performing a flyover. Honored as an American hero whose legacy would be felt across Hawaii for years to come.
Danny lost time again during the service, overwhelmed by memories and too many emotions than he could handle. He resurfaced somewhere in the middle of a Navy Captain's speech about the values Steve represented –integrity, loyalty, initiative and toughness, and the hope that future generations would draw inspiration from him.
Dreading what lay ahead, he fixed his gaze on the flag-draped casket, still struggling to process the fact that his best friend was in there and that he would no longer have another argument with him, or tease him about being a Neanderthal animal.
A moment later, Charlie appeared at his side, wearing a black suit and tie that Rachel must've bought for him specifically for the day. He wrapped his arms around Danny's waist and stood there in silence through the rest of the service.
It passed in a blur.
Until the flag-folding ceremony.
When the honor guard presented it to Mary, she started to sob louder and sought refuge in Danny's arms, burying her head in his shoulder. The soldier stood uncertain for a moment, arms outstretched, then turned to Danny as well. "On behalf of a grateful nation and a proud Navy," he said, with the steady voice of someone who had done it too many times. "I present this flag to you in recognition of Commander McGarrett's years of honorable and faithful service to his country."
One arm wrapped around Mary's back, the other holding the flag, Danny wished to be anywhere but there. Specifically, wherever Ruslan Petrovic was being held, with his hands wrapped around the son of a bitch's neck, slowly squeezing the life out of him.
They had arrested him, of course. Just like Steve had anticipated.
Two hours into the forced release, Junior and the SEALs that had helped Steve out in Mexico had put zip ties around his wrists and sent him back to jail, demanding for him the most uncomfortable stay that the facility could offer.
A small comfort to be drawn, and yet a show of loyalty and affection.
Towards the end of the ceremony, before Steve's casket was taken to the gravesite, all the Navy SEALs attending the ceremony, led by Junior, lined up and started slapping their gold tridents down, pinning them onto the wooden surface. It was a sign of respect to their fallen comrade, an expression that they would be with their brother throughout eternity.
Each slap echoed across the cemetery, and it was one of the most meaningful moments Danny had ever witnessed.
He wished Steve could've seen it all, seen the outpour of love that his fellow sailors and the community he had sworn to protect were showering him with.
"Uncle Steve would've loved this," Grace whispered in his ear as if reading his mind.
Danny nodded and gave his daughter a kiss.
She had been the rock he didn't know he needed until she'd showed up and literally picked him off the floor of Steve's bedroom.
Between them, still as quiet as ever, little Charlie sat in his father's chair with a solemn look on his face.
All of that changed as they started to lower the gold-studded coffin into the grave.
The kid lowered his head and started to wail. Not the moody whine of a child not getting want he wanted, but the heart-wrenching cry of someone who could not be consoled.
Danny bent down, stroked his hair lovingly. "Hey, buddy, what's wrong?"
Charlie raised his tear-stained face to look at his father. "Uncle Steve… promised… that he would come to my… recital," he said between the big, heaving sobs shaking his small body. "He gave me his word!"
Anyone in their proximity who wasn't already crying felt a fresh onslaught of tears run down their cheeks.
"I know he did," Danny whispered, pulling him into a hug. What was left of his heart completely shattered at the kid's words. It was something else he'd failed at. Sparing his child from heartbreak. "And I know he would've done anything to keep it. He was very excited about it, couldn't wait to see you perform..."
"It's not fair!"
He sat down, put him in his lap. "You're right, it's not. But there are things in life that we can't control, and this is one of it. Uncle Steve did something really, really brave and saved a lot of people, so we should always remember that and that he loved us very, very much."
The thought that his uncle had saved lives didn't make Charlie miss Steve any less. "He's a hero, isn't he, Danno?"
Danny swallowed hard. "He sure is."
"Who's gonna teach me how to snorkel now?"
"I will," Grace said softly, rubbing soothing circles over her brother's back. "Uncle Steve taught me, so now I'm gonna teach you. That okay?"
Charlie nodded, not entirely okay with it but accepting it as the second best option.
Danny gave her a grateful look, then kissed the top of his son's head. "It's gonna be alright, buddy. We're gonna be alright."
Did he believe that?
He did not. His life had been forever changed and there was no way to get back to how things were. Yet, his job as a father was to make it sound like there was hope at the end of the tunnel.
Worn out by the beautiful but emotionally draining ceremony, Danny remained seated when Grace escorted Charlie back to where Rachel was standing a few rows behind. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands.
Lou tried his best to comfort him and helped him stand when the casket was lowered to its final resting place. Danny's legs buckled as he watched it disappear into the ground, and he had to sit down again.
"Rest easy, Frogman," he heard Junior whisper from behind as the numbness pounding his brain started to spread all over his body.
They had asked him to speak, say something about Steve as his partner of ten years.
Danny had said no.
Not in front of that many people.
Plus, what was he supposed to say? That he was angry at him for giving up his life? That he resented him for not thinking about the consequences of his actions? About the people he'd leave behind?
He would punch him if he could. A right hook to the jaw, like the day they'd first met. And then hug him. Tight and long enough to show how much he loved him.
Loved…
He'd never get used to talking about him in the past tense.
Minutes – or hours? – later, when everything was all over and everyone but Five-0 had left the cemetery, Danny cast his eyes on the freshly-dug grave and took a few, tentative steps toward it.
The rest of the team moved aside, allowing him a final moment to say goodbye.
Time seemed to stand still around him. The wind had stopped blowing, and even the birds were quiet like they knew not to disturb.
Danny nervously glanced around the graveyard. Rows of white marble tombstones rose from the manicured grass, all perfect and looking exactly the same except for the name engraved on them. Steve, neat freak that he was, would surely appreciate that.
"You just had to go out with a bang, huh?" he tentatively said as he stuffed both hands into his pockets to hide the tremors coursing through them. "Couldn't even die like a normal person… in bed, peacefully, at 100 years old…"
Leaning forward, he peered into the grave. The sight of the casket made his stomach turn but he forced himself to watch, because his friends were right and he needed to do this.
"I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I... I want to thank you for hijacking my life ten years ago. For showing up, all cocky and arrogant, and turning it upside down. Thank you for having my back. Always. For driving me crazy, frustrating me to no end. For being there for me no questions asked."
His voice started to break, yet Danny went on.
"I told Tani once... I told her... when I first met you, I almost shot you. And when you said I'd be your partner I, uh... I felt like punching you in the face. But you came into my life right when I needed you. I had nothing, no one, no purpose. You... stubborn, unpredictable, crazy son of a bitch... you gave me everything, and now I'm... now I have nothing."
A hand rose hesitantly, and he wearily wiped it across his face. The gesture did nothing to rub the grief from his features.
"I had a vision once, while I was in surgery. I saw us sitting by the beach as old men, talking about our lives... arguing like we always do. I thought it was perfect. I thought... that we'd grow old together..."
A memory from years before stirred up, rising to attention, and Danny's eyes filled with tears again.
'When we were in there, you said, uh... you know, before you did the thing with the bomb, you said what you said. I want you to know, I... I feel the same way.'
'How is that exactly?'
'Gonna make me say it? Come here. I love you.'
'I love you, buddy.'
They had said 'I love you' a thousand times but for some reason, that one had stuck with him ever since.
"I'm gonna miss you, buddy. I promise that you'll never be forgotten."
Right after he said that, something caught his attention: a white feather, probably fallen from one of the nearby trees. Danny watched it twirl in the air and slowly descend to the ground, mesmerized by the elegant, delicate movements.
It went down the grave, landing on top of the coffin.
Danny let a small smile touch his lips.
"I love you too," he whispered as he walked away.
After the funeral, everyone had gathered at Steve's house.
Family, friends and members of the SEAL community had taken turns singing McGarrett's praises, sharing memory after memory while downing bottle after bottle of beer.
Through it all, Danny had stayed surprisingly sober, but struggling to hold back his grief.
Steve had never truly realized how much he was loved when he was alive, and it killed him that he'd died thinking that was what he deserved.
Mary had gone back to California that same night, vowing never to set foot on the island again. With her family completely gone now, she was determined to build a future for her daughter as far as possible from the 'cursed' place that had killed everyone she loved. She'd signed away her rights over her brother's properties and possessions and left Danny in charge of any present and future decision.
He had offered her all of his support, and hoped that she wouldn't get lost along the way.
The first day of the rest of his life, Danny woke up from a restless sleep as a house owner, trying to come to terms with a reality that still seemed too surreal to be true. Always prepared, Steve had made a will and somehow knowing Mary would bail out, had left everything he owned to him, including the leadership of Five-0.
The second day, he received paperwork stating that his kids would never have to worry about money for the rest of their lives. After Kamekona had bought them out of their restaurant shares, Steve had apparently set up trust funds for both Grace and Charlie. Danny had broken down at the news, remembering all the times he'd teased him for forgetting his wallet and claiming he had no money to pay.
On the third day, the Governor officially appointed him as task force leader, promoting him to Lieutenant. She also issued a statement saying that the State of Hawaii would honor Commander McGarrett's bravery with a grant to be awarded to the most deserving HPD cadet every year, and commissioned a bust that would be unveiled in a month and displayed in Kapiolani Park during an official ceremony.
Steve would have a bronze statue and a street named after him.
One of the greatest honors he could receive.
His name would be remembered for generations to come, along with that of the legendary detective Chang Apana.
It made Danny prouder than he'd ever be able to admit.
A few hours later, as he sat in his chair by the beach, Steve's doctor called.
Aware of the passing of his patient, the man had felt it was his duty to inform the next of kin of the results of some tests he had taken.
Danny braced himself, and asked him not to spare any detail.
"He was right," the physician said. "It was cancer. He would've had only a few months to live."
And Danny suddenly understood.
He understood the pain Steve must've been in, the weariness that in the weeks before his demise had slowed down his pace, the 'thank you' he'd whispered that morning, and his decision to leave life on his own terms.
The knowledge that he would've lost him anyway, as tragic as it was, lifted some of the weight off his shoulders. And when the call ended, he was reminded of a bittersweet moment during one of their last cases together.
'You know, I've always taken sunsets for granted,' Steve had said while they were horse-riding through the Ko'olau mountains. 'Probably 'cause I figured I'd see a million more...'
Danny had remained silent, surprised by the admission. It sounded wrong and scary and... final, and he didn't like it one bit. He'd noticed Steve wasn't sleeping at night, but his friend had shrugged it off like usual saying he didn't want to talk about it, and then proceeded to add that sunsets were one of the things he would miss the most. In the end.
Now, as he sat outside watching the sun sink lower into the sky, phone still cradled in his hand, Danny vowed never to miss another sunset again.
Wherever he was, alone or not, he'd find a moment to stare at it and imagine that Steve was doing the same.
THE END