I do NOT own anything, but the plot.
Thank you for reading.
Nalo a loaʻa
-loosely translate to "lost and found"-
CHAPTER THREE
Standing in the entrance of their HQ, Steve took in the familiarity of it all. He'd been delayed leaving with them, but when he saw them around the computer table, he knew he was finally home.
"Took you long enough to get here," Kono quipped, hoping her sarcasm was clear to detect.
"He probably had to arrange his next mission impossible."
Danny's temper hadn't even simmered in the time between leaving Denning's office and arriving at the Palace.
"Eh no," Steve started sheepishly, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. "The governor had to arrange transport. Sorry it took so long."
"Wow, the SEAL can apologise for tardiness but not for getting me shot the second day we knew each other."
"First," Steve automatically corrected, but he saw his usually quick wit did nothing to fill the void in his relationship with Danny. "Sorry." Suddenly, Steve felt his mouth dry, and he coughed to settle his fraying nerves. "I know this must be a lot to take in."
If he could've, he would've punched himself over repeating that same stupid line he had spoken earlier.
"Not really," Danny admonished, frowning as he looked at Steve. "It's all pretty simple ... you died," he started, his hands pressed together leaning to the left. "And now you're alive." His words were matched with his hands moving to the right as if to show the movement of Steve's reincarnation. "And we have to deal with it."
"I know it seems like you have to deal with it, Danno," Steve tried to show understand, cringing as Danny did at the token nickname. "But you don't ... I know this changes everything."
"You're right it does... we just about started to adjust to you being gone and now we have to adjust to you being alive."
"Yeah, pretty much that," Kono agreed, yet to probably look at her boss.
Gulping convulsively, Steve tried to rationalise his every thought.
"We had some leads we needed to go check out," Chin announced, swiping over the tabletop to bring up what Steve could on guess were their current suspects. "It's a pretty easy case."
Approaching his best friend, Danny had wasted no time finding the file and all of its details the moment they were back in HQ. He was going to throw himself into work and ignore the fact that his greatest wish had come true. He hated that he had prayed for this day to happen, and now it had, he was waiting for everything to implode.
"Think you should get caught up on the case notes before you jump back in," Danny advised, thrusting the tablet into Steve's chest. "It's probably boring in comparison to what you've been up to but educate yourself."
Patting Steve's chest, stopping the man from leaving, almost in disbelief that Steve was really here, living and breathing, Danny hardened himself.
"Also, it's Danny ... or better yet, it's Detective Williams. Not Danno. Maybe Steven J McGarrett two-point-oh can commit that to memory."
In another life, Steve would've reacted with a cheeky grin and a quick-witted response. However, Steve knew the delicate ice he was treading and right now, he knew he couldn't risk falling through.
"Got it," Steve replied in earnest, his face remaining emotionless.
Removing himself from under Danny's palm, Steve headed to his office, but not fast enough to hear Danny speak up.
"Let's go, partner."
Looking up with a small grin on his face, Steve knew Danny couldn't stay mad at him for too long. Turning on the spot, file in hand, Steve felt relief wash over him until he saw Danny looking at Chin.
"I'm driving," Danny announced, shaking his keys at his partner.
"Like always," he heard Chin reply jovially.
Stepping into his office, Steve stood staring at his desk, but no longer felt he deserved it.
Watching Danny's change in persona, Kono's closely followed, Steve opened his mouth to say bye to them all as they all headed for the door but realised it was futile. It wasn't even that he didn't want to say goodbye, it was more he wanted to confess everything, tell them everything, build bridges, mend holes, but he knew he couldn't do that. They were already avoiding him, how could he possibly confide in them that shortly after he was declared 'dead' his entire world fell apart? At the thought, his hand went to his side, fingers ghosting the scars that reminded him daily of the start of the end. He didn't need to lift his shirt to know how every ridge felt, he'd had enough time to learn to live with it, and just like those scars, he had to learn to live with this reality, too.
Dropping his hand and without lifting his head, Steve pretended to start reading over the file. From the corner of his eye he watched them all leave, and he felt lost. They all made the plans, acted as a team, showing what five months without him had done - bonded them closer than ever.
The problem now was that Steve was the outsider, the outcast because while he had grieved them, they had grieved him.
Making it home that night, Steve wearily shut the front door to his house and shut off the outside world. He had waited for the team to leave before he had called for a cab, not one of them noticing how he had waited for transport to the office earlier in the day or the fact his Silverado was not parked in its usual spot.
Sluggishly, he turned on the spot and used the door as support as he took in his home. The place looked immaculate and as if nothing had happened. He had no idea who had been here and kept it pristine, but he assumed at some point, his sister would have come here to stay. She was as messy as Danny, so his suspect list dwindled down to the last remaining three who would have access to his house.
Crossing the space, he ignored his empty stomach and reach for the refrigerator and hoped there was beer inside. Counting his lucky stars when he saw a full case of Longboards – sure sign Danny frequented the house – he snatched one, unscrewed the top and headed back through the house. He couldn't bring himself to go outside and take in the lanai and beach. A place he was calmest also held a lot of memories for him and he wasn't ready to contend with any of them. Instead, he took a long drag of the beer and took a seat at the head of the dining room table, taking his phone from his pocket as he did so. Placing it down directly next to beer, Steve knew what he had to do.
Today had been rough, but it was far from over.
Finishing the beer quickly, he braced himself for the call he had to make.
Bringing up his sister's number was second nature, pushing call was the challenge, however, but he did it anyway because he owed it to her.
"Hello?" came the weary answer.
Closing his eyes, he let his sister's voice sink in and let out a shuddering breath. Her voice had never sounded better. They had been estranged for so long, but now it felt right to reach out to her.
"Steve?" she gasped after hearing him. "Is that really you?"
"Yeah, Mary, it's really me," he admitted softly and held his breath.
"But how?" she questioned, confusion lacing every syllable. "This isn't possible."
"I know, but something happened."
The was silence on the line.
"You're not dead?"
"No, I'm not dead," he said, relief forcing himself to smile as he said that, hoping she would feel the same. "It was all faked. Mare..."
"How could you do this?" she suddenly asked, her voice thickening with tears. "You knew what losing mom did to me, Steve." Her words were blunt, cutting him off. "You knew what that did to us. We got separated because of that. It tore us apart. What did you think your death would do to me, huh?"
While Steve was a man of few words, Mary wasn't.
"I'm sorry," Steve murmured, never knowing if his apologises were sincere enough.
"You're always sorry," Mary mused, her upset evident. "I don't want to hear to it anymore, Steve."
Panic filtered into his system.
"Please, Mary, just hear me out."
"No," she whispered. "I can't do this. Hearing Danny tell me you were dead was one thing, hearing him do a eulogy for you was another, but this... hearing you... this is too much."
"Please Mary," he started again, sitting upright as desperation flooded his system. "Please…"
"I can't do this, Steve," she uttered, her voice thick with tears. "I'll call you when I've made sense of this."
He knew he had to admit defeat and allow her time.
"Okay," he uttered but she had already hung up.
He didn't even hesitate to call the next number. Mary was temperamental at the best of times, a catalyst always waiting to react. She was volatile to Steve's calm, and she used emotions as weapons, he would allow her time to calm down.
All Steve knew was he needed to hear a voice he loved, one that was like a balm to his soul on any given bad day. However, as the call rang, he felt nerves he had never felt before build and when he was greeted with the voicemail tone, he breathed a little easier.
"Hey," he breathed into his cell. "I know this must be crazy to get this call, but I wanted you to hear it from me ... I don't even know what I'm meant to say, Cath. I'm not dead feels like it makes a mockery of what's happened, but in all honesty, that's what's happened, and it's really fucked things up. I just really needed to hear your voice and to tell you how sorry I am for everything. Tell you how much I have missed you."
He felt like his hand had barely reached his lap when his cell rang again.
"Cath," he breathed a welcome the moment he could.
"Is this really happening?" she asked, weakly. "This can't be happening."
"It's happening," he said, breaking into a small smile. "You don't know how good it is to hear your voice right about now." He couldn't begin to say how happy he was to hear her voice after all this time. "I really needed to just hea-"
"Stop," Cath breathed down the line.
But Steve continued, purging his soul.
"Look, there was a threat against the team and against you and Mary. Something happened years ago, and someone wanted revenge. Me dying on the job was a perfect decoy to throw the scent off. There's more to it, but they got him and I'm home and I-"
"Steve!" she shouted. "Please just shut up a minute. Just shut up!"
Stunned, he sat back and quietened, but said, "Sure, yeah … whatever you need."
"Just stop, Steve. Just stop."
"Cath," he said a little more alert.
"I can't listen to anymore."
"Catherine," he said, using her full name as he sat up.
"Don't call me again." Her words were sharp and venomous, the earlier relief now no longer present. "I had to move on, Steve. He's not you, but you were gone. There's nothing here for you now." There's a break in her words. "I thought you were gone for good."
"Like I thought you were," Steve replied, trying to take away the harsh bitterness away from his tone.
"Least I was still alive."
Feeling like he was suffocating, Steve rolled his eyes to stop the influx of tears as his lips fell apart. Her words cut deep, but they were true. No matter what happened, he knew she was alive and while the idea of her in Afghanistan alone had kept him awake at night, he knew she was alive and finishing up a mission she couldn't walk away from.
"You know of all the things you've done in your time; this is the cruellest of them all."
Shame, the most common feeling he felt most days, exploded through his veins, heating them with hellfire and he couldn't find the words to speak let alone find the air to breathe.
"Never call me again, Steve."
"Cath, please…"
"I mean it. If I ever hear from you again it'll be too soon."
She ended the call abruptly and without a goodbye, just how Mary had. He guessed that was fair considering not one of them had a chance to say goodbye when he was pronounced dead.
Steve sat and let his hand drop from his ear, his cell phone clattering to the floor. Bringing his hands to his head, his fingers threaded through clumps of hair until he was pulling tight against his scalp. It was as heat raced across his head that Steve let out an almighty cry, one so strangled with torment that he felt it burn in his throat.
All day he had been dealing with the team closing him out, not directing conversation at him but around him, and he had lost his excitement to be home. He knew there was no one else to blame but himself, but he had hoped for a warmer homecoming.
Reaching down, he picked his cell phone up, and, instinctively, his hand went to hit the number for Danny on speed dial, but he paused. Danny wasn't an option. No one was. So, Steve sat with the ghosts of his past and struggled with the ideology that this was life.
He once had nothing and no one, but he filled that void with Ohana and Five-0, but now, that luxury was gone, too.