A/N: Follow-up to "Perspective" due to a character giving me the stink eye and not being quiet. :-)
Thanks to honu59 for not only beta-reading but her review on "Perspective" which gave this story its anchor.
Hawaii Five-O does not belong to me, I'm just playing in the sandbox, yet again!
* Second Perspective *
He's so frustrating! Can't he realize he's only human!?
I have watched him push aside his grief and plunge ahead into his work. He lives it, breathes it, and I'm sure, eats it for breakfast. Inevitably, the grief catches up.
He tries to outrun it but I see him, late at night and alone. Only the trade winds and the shadows hear his sobs and see his tears. Then, there's me. I see and hear him, too.
I want to help. I want to take away his pain but I can't. The course I walked is one-way only. No do-overs, no U-turns, and no going back to the way things were.
He blames himself but it isn't his fault. If there is anyone who made a mistake, I made it. I told him as much when I was admitted to Queen's. Yet, he shouldered the responsibility.
Once we had answers, the doctors felt my best chance was on the mainland with Dr. Lancaster at UCLA Medical Center. He was one of the best in his field. I liked him, too. He was up front, honest and his bedside manner was top notch. He also went the extra mile to ensure that my family knew everything I did. I really appreciated that.
We tried various treatments but nothing worked. I kept fighting, thanks to my family, especially my little girl. One of the last days I saw her, I expended all my energy but I wouldn't trade that time for anything. Now, I can only watch her from a distance.
When the darkness enveloped me, I knew I was nearing the end. He visited me then, talked to me as if I were still conscious and among the living. Yet, I was just out of reach. I wished I could have done something, anything. Even the smallest movement would have given him hope. But I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. I was already beginning my transition.
Now, I'm standing on the tarmac as the airplane taxis to a stop. A line of police cars and the entire Five-O team is here. He appears stoic, like a statue, hiding his grief. Duke, Kimo, and Truck are on either side of him. Kono and Ben are even here. There are others too, in uniform, whom I recognize.
The belt loader drives around the back of the plane to the cargo door. Workers open that door to reveal a flag-draped coffin just as the hearse approaches and parks. The hearse driver opens the back and the Five-O guys walk over with a uniformed officer. It's Paul, whom I worked with so much over the years. The six of them lift the coffin and place it in the hearse.
I don't know how to feel about this.
"Weird, isn't it?" Chin lights his pipe as he stands beside me.
"Yeah." It's the only answer I have. I appreciate Chin being here. I didn't know what to expect and Chin has been invaluable during this next evolution in … my life? My death? What do I even call it!?
I see my family walking down the steps out of the airplane. My wife carries my little girl and he meets them at the bottom. They hug and I notice the tears from them both. My aunt is behind her. He hugs her and helps steady her. After my wife and aunt, my sister deplanes and is greeted by my brother-in-law and their four teenaged kids, who arrived a few days ago. He gives my sister his condolences as well, never releasing my aunt. Leave it to him to shoulder more and more for those he deeply cares about.
Damn! I'm so sorry. Sorry I didn't tackle the problem right away.
"Everything happens for a reason. You know that." Chin's words ring in my ear. "This was meant to be."
'Meant to be!?' How could he say that? There is so much pain here and I caused it because of my stubbornness, my pride … my denial of the facts.
Chin puts his hand on my shoulder. "All things in due time."
I can only nod as the hearse drives away.
The next time I see them is in the church as I stand between the back pews. He gives the eulogy and as usual, he remains strong. He fights the tears as he speaks. Once again, he's running from the grief.
He relaxes his façade a bit at the graveside service. Then something miraculous happens. My daughter climbs from her mom into his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck and he squeezes her, but not too tightly. He weeps – in the open, in front of everyone and doesn't give one hoot about the display of emotions. About damn time!
Afterwards, there's a reception at a friend's house. It's what one would expect: lots of food, silly stories and shared memories – the good, the bad and the embarrassing.
Even through that, she held onto him. Her mom made her a plate of food and she ate it in his lap. She never moved, rarely let go and I suspect that he won't release her without a fight. She's not quite three, yet there is a wisdom inside of her that is beyond her years.
Throughout the reception, my family comes together to process their shared grief – both my blood family and my Five-O family. Duke, Kono, Ben, and Truck continue to ensure he's okay by their presence and their conversations. They also check on my wife, my sister, and my aunt. They're strong women, but they're only human, too.
I find myself astonished as I stand nearby. Another small miracle is occurring before my eyes. My aunt has managed to bring Kimo into the circle. He's still an outsider in some respects but he's also one of us. She recognizes that fact instantly.
I'm always amazed by my aunt's generosity and gentleness. Fair warning, though, you don't want to mess with her, Kimo. She can be a spitfire when you least expect it. I chuckle watching them interact. He finds her fascinating and heart-warming. Welcome to the family.
Long after the funeral and reception, he's now alone in his apartment. He bows his head then he looks to the ocean. I watch and wait. Late at night, he finally falls asleep.
The dream is … where else? Work! Why am I not surprised? Of course it's here. It's a place of comfort, solitude, and solidarity. I walk through the office and knock on his door.
"Come in," he calls out.
I open the door and find him on the lanai, facing out. I stroll over to his desk before I speak. "Steve."
He turns and smiles, "Hi, Danno."