Thanks again for all the lovely reviews. It´s nice to see you still enjoy my work this much.
Steve is at a dark, dark place at the moment, but I´m mean and not quite done with him just yet.
It was a cold day, considering it was August, and cloudy, fitting for the mood of the day perfectly. Rain was definitely on its way. Ignoring the darkening clouds, Steve stood outside with Joe by his side. The older man had volunteered to accompany him on this trip and he wouldn´t take no for an answer, so here they were, standing aside from the rest of the group, and watching the honor guard intently. In a few minutes, the seven of them on the rifle squad would send three volleys into the grey skies, a final goodbye to Steve´s fallen teammate Liam Jackson.
The place was packed with Jackson´s family, friends, and townspeople who´d come to pay their respects to the hometown boy who´d given his last full measure. Most were seated in the rows of folding chairs. Jackson´s young widow, Anna, dressed in black, sat in the middle of the front row, her two young sons on either side of her, with other family members surrounding them.
Photographs of Jackson and his family had been placed front and center for all to see. It was the sort of turnout and service one might expect in small-town America: the US flags, the high school band, the funny stories recalled by former classmates, and the tearful farewells of friends and family.
Davis and Martinez had flown into the nearest airport and had driven twenty miles so they could attend the memorial service. Richardson´s absence was hard to miss, though.
Jackson had been laid to rest at the Fort Bragg Main Post Cemetery and he´d been buried with full military honors. The people Steve met before the ceremony had that small-town friendliness that gave the impression that they actually cared about each other and appreciated that Jackson's brothers-in-arms had come "all this way" to say goodbye to one of their own.
As Steve stood on the grass waiting for the eulogies to end, he couldn´t stop thinking how wrong this was. How there should have been such a service for him. There should be no grieving widow, no children of his own. It should be Danny, Grace, and Charlie, surrounded by Five-0 ohana, by Steve's sister Mary and little Joanie. It should have been his friends and family recalling funny anecdotes and tearfully saying they'd miss him, followed by the color guard firing three volleys, and then followed by the playing of taps.
It should have been him. Period. Instead, he stood at attention at the second funeral this week, images of Jackson´s lifeless body being dragged away and leaving the bloody trail in the sand still vivid on his shattered mind.
He was glad he was standing aside in the back, not wanting to sit with other remaining team members near Jackson´s family. Burdened with the guilt of having survived when six of his comrades didn't, he didn´t know what to say to anybody. Nothing he would say could possibly express how he felt about his failure to protect his team. "I´m sorry" would most certainly not cut it.
It was hard to face the guilt and join the others. He knew in his heart that Jackson´s family wouldn´t judge him, but he was afraid to look his children in the eye and be alive when their brave father was dead.
After the official ceremony, Steve made his way to the rental car in silence with Joe right behind him. He thought he could hear someone calling his name, but that had become a new normal in the past months. He could always hear them. Day and night. Calling his name. Calling for help. He did his best to ignore the voice and opened the driver´s door.
"McGarrett!" This time he was certain it wasn´t just in his head. He turned around to see Davis and Martinez approaching them. "Sir," Davis nodded a greeting at Joe, then turned back to Steve. Hey. You weren´t gonna leave without saying hi, were you? You certainly did that after Lewis´memorial."
He was gonna do that again. But now they were on him, he had no choice but to face them. He forced a smile and greeted them both with a brotherly handshake. "I haven´t seen you guys," he lied.
"Huh, right." Davis´s lifted eyebrow hinted to him he didn´t believe him anyway.
Steve didn´t know what to say, so he remained silent, hoping to find a way to end the unwanted encounter fast and get out of here. He definitely didn´t have an intention of continuing this day in a bar with the other operators.
An awkward silence stretched in the air for a moment. Martinez was the one who broke the spell. "A nice service, right? I´m glad they are all at home now."
Steve shrugged, wanting to yell they were supposed to come home alive, not in the damn flag-draped boxes. "Yeah," was all he managed to say.
"How are you doing, anyway? I´ve been trying to reach you for months. You had me worried for a while," Davis said.
Steve didn´t miss Joe´s questioning side-look. He could basically hear his question out loud. Was he avoiding the rest of the team on purpose? Yes, he was. Ignoring the incoming calls from his old friend felt almost natural by now. He and Davis went through BUDs together. They´ve done two tours together. They´ve been friends for years, yet Steve had been avoiding him and now he was standing here, lying to him with ease.
"Yeah, sorry about that. I´ve been busy," he said. "You know, working on getting back on track."
"Good to see you standing on your own feet," Martinez chimed in. "You back to work now?"
Steve shook his head, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. He wasn´t sure his broken body would handle going back to chasing criminals again, but they didn´t need to know. "Not quite there yet, but hopefully soon. How about you two? You doing good?"
"Yeah," Martinez said. "I mean, considering. It´s not easy after what had happened, but I´m hanging there. Miss the guys, though."
A light nod was Steve´s answer.
"I know it´s not appropriate to say this now. Today isn´t about me. But I´m actually more than good." Davis´s lips curled upward. "My wife had told me she´s pregnant a couple of weeks ago."
At least someone had good news, Steve thought. "That´s great, I´m happy for you man," he said.
"Thanks."
A question popped up on Steve´s mind. "You guys heard from Richardson? I thought he would be here," he asked.
Davis´s smile faded and a worried frown took a place on his face instead. "Yeah, I´ve heard he´s not doing so good," he said. "Last time I´ve seen him he didn´t even know about himself. I´m surprised he hadn´t drunk himself to death yet."
Blood turned cold in Steve´s veins with that image. He´d been so drowned in his own pain he forgot to check on his fellow captive. Richardson had not only been through the captivity and torture just like Steve, he had not only lost six teammates too. He had lost his best friend. And Steve knew how painful that could be. A shiver ran down his spine with the thought he would lose Danny on top of everything else. It was unimaginable.
"I called him yesterday and he said he would come over but he doesn´t answer the damn phone today," Martinez added. "I called his girlfriend. She seemed pretty pissed off. Said I´d probably find him in one of the bars."
The wheels in Steve´s brain started spinning faster. "He doesn´t live far from here, does he?"
"Just a few miles," Davis said. "Why? You wanna go check on him?"
Dialing Richardson´s number for the first time in eight months, he hoped it wouldn´t be necessary. But the phone kept ringing without an answer and Steve didn´t like it one bit. So he dialed another number.
"Hey, Lou," I need a favor," he said when his friend answered the call. "I need you to track a number for me."
When he flew over to the mainland to pay his respect to Lewis and Jackson, he had no idea that it was gonna play out like this.
It turned out Richardson´s girlfriend had been right. The location Lou gave him certainly was a very dubious bar, and Steve was now heading for the door with Joe, Davis, and Martinez on his heels. His stomach churned as soon as he entered, and suddenly he wasn´t sure he wanted to be there. But it didn´t feel right to walk away without checking on his friend, knowing he was struggling.
"There he is." Joe gestured toward one of the tables in the corner with the tip of his chin.
Steve´s eyes landed on the man sprawled across the table. Dirty stains on his crumpled, navy blue t-shirt were in sync with his too-long, messy hair and dark shadows rimming his closed eyes. He was still holding a half-empty glass in one hand as he snored away, oblivious to his surroundings.
"Pretty much like the last time I´ve seen him," Davis said with a sigh.
"I hope you´re here to pick him up," the blonde bartender said to their group with venom in her voice. "He´d scared away half of the customers last night."
Steve sucked in a deep breath as they made their way toward the sleeping man.
"Hey, buddy," Davis shook Richardson´s shoulder lightly. "Wake up."
A loud groan escaped Richardson´s lips. His eyelids fluttered, but he stayed still.
"Come on, time to go home," Steve joined in.
Somehow, it seemed that Steve´s voice did the trick and forced the drunk man to pry his eyelids open and slowly lift his head up. Richardson squinted at the group of four uniformed men as though trying to concentrate. "Fuck," he slurred. "I missed it again, didn´t I?"
"Yeah, you did," Steve replied. "But you can go say goodbye after you get cleaned up and get some sleep." Steve tugged at his arm gently, prompting him to stand up.
The move triggered an angry response. "Get the fuck off me," Richardson growled, pulling his arm away. He straightened up and stabbed his eyes into Steve. "What are you even doing here?"
At this point, Steve was asking himself the same question. But he didn´t back out. "Making sure you make it home," he said.
Obviously, that was the wrong thing to say. Richardson´s gaze grew murderous instantly. He stood up clumsily, bumping into the table on his way up. The impact sent the glass rolling away, but none of the men seem to register the sound of breaking glass shattering on the floor.
Richardson made a step forward and he was now only inches from Steve, who had to look up at the taller man. "Really?" he snarled. "Don´t you think it´s a bit too late for that?"
An intense wave of cold rushed through Steve´s veins. "What?" he gritted out, feeling the anger spiking once again.
"You didn´t bring them home, did you?!" Richardson shouted. He was shaking now, waving his finger dangerously close to Steve´s chest.
Steve shut his eyes close, struggling to force it all away, but he couldn´t. He knew Richardson was right, yet the threatening gesture and so much rage in Richardson´s voice flared up the emotions of his own.
Davis stepped forward, placating hand outstretched. "That´s enough," he said.
"Don´t touch me," Richardson warned, then turned his attention back to Steve. "You don´t have the right to be here. It is your fault Lynch is dead. Him and everyone else!"
The accusation got lost on him when Richardson´s finger stabbed into his chest. All the pent-up anger broke loose at that moment, and before he even had a chance to think about what he was doing, Richardson landed on the table face first with a grunt, his arm painfully twisted behind his back with Steve´s weight pinning him down.
"You think I don´t know that?" he snapped. "Not a day passes that I wouldn´t hate myself for that." He was only briefly aware of Joe´s hands on him, trying to pull him back as the desperation leaked into his angry voice.
"Come on, Steve, let go of him," Joe urged him, but Steve didn´t move.
Richardson struggled to break free, his legs trying to hit Steve´s, but his movements were slow and uncoordinated to gain an advantage.
"That´s enough, kids," Joe said with authority in his voice and pulled Steve back in one swift motion.
As soon as Richardson managed to stand up, he turned around, fire burning in his sunken eyes, and moved forward, as if ready to fight back. But Davis and Martinez both stepped into his way, keeping him at bay.
"I´ll blame this on booze. You didn´t mean what you said, buddy," Martinez tried to get through to him. "We all know it´s not true."
"Let me go," Richardson growled instead of a reply.
"Only when you calm down," Davis said.
"Fine," he spat out, throwing Steve an angry glare. "Okay, just don´t fucking touch me."
Not for a second did Steve let his eyes off his angry comrade. Barely breathing through the lump that had formed in his throat, he watched his every movement as Davis and Martinez let go off him. He didn´t miss a painful grimace as he grabbed his upper arm, and just then Steve realized it was the one he took a round into during the ambush. Even more guilt swept into his mind, for not only attacking the man who had helped him survive in hell, but for hurting him physically as well. All because he dared to voice his thoughts out loud. Form the painful truth into words. Words that hurt more than a knife in a gut. Words Steve deserved to hear.
Even with his eyes on Richardson, his mind was already elsewhere, so a split second he had to react before Richardson sprung forward and slammed a fist into his face wasn´t nearly enough. The impact spun his world and along with the right momentum, it was strong enough to send Steve flying to the floor.
Rage bubbled inside his veins when Joe helped him back up while Davis held Richardson at bay once again. His hands curled into fists, but Joe seemed to notice and held his arm across Steve´s chest to prevent him from doing something stupid.
His eyes met Richardson´s again. The pain and anger in there were visible from miles away and he wondered if he looked like that for the outside world too.
"It´s your fault," Richardson repeated with a finger pointing Steve´s way, but this time with much less anger behind it. He was shaking and close to hyperventilating.
Steve couldn´t argue with that. He ignored Davis´s and Martinez´s attempts to make Richardson take that accusation back. He ignored the curious and terrified eyes of the bystanders watching them. He ignored Joe´s silent plea to calm down and keep it together.
He just turned on his heel and headed for the doorway.
*to be continued*
We´re coming close to the end of the story. There´ll probably be 2-3 more chapters after this. Thanks for staying with me this long and as always, I´ll be grateful for any review.