A/N: I'm not sure if this qualifies as a fix-it. It starts at the beginning of episode 10x20 where Steve is running at the beach haunted by the ghosts of his parents and Joe, and from there it's my take how Steve came up with the idea and the wish to get away from Hawaii and his life for a while-with Danny's full support.
The conversation between Steve and Danny at the end is taken from episode 10x21, and I've cut/edited it to fit my needs.
Steve is running.
It's his usual morning run, his usual routine, his usual route along the beach.
He has done this countless times before but today feels different. Like something's off.
And maybe it's just because he's slept badly last night. The last couple of nights, actually. He feels restless and uneasy, he can't shake the nightmares he's had.
The memories they've sprung from are still haunting him in broad daylight. Missions gone wrong. People he's lost. Bad choices.
He's running faster instinctively, wanting to get away from the pain, wanting to escape.
And then there's his father's voice: I didn't say it enough. I love you, son.
Joe, saying It's all right, Steve. I couldn't be prouder of the man you've become.
He keeps speeding up, and inevitably he remembers Doris: I'm so sorry, baby. I love you so much.
You continue to go down this road, son, you got to ask yourself: how many more lives is that gonna cost?
He stops, almost doubling over, gasping for air desperately.
He's suffocating. Or at least that's what it feels like.
And he can't take no more: no more hurt, no more guilt, no more grief. All these emotions he's kept neatly stuffed into their respective compartments are spilling over, weighing him down, filling out every inch of his body, every cell inside of him, making it nearly impossible to draw another breath.
And pretty soon, you're gonna need to decide what kind of man you are. You're the closest thing I ever had to a son, Steve. I wasn't trying to hurt you. I just hope someday you can understand.
It feels like there's nothing left of who he is. The man he thinks he is… or was… or should be—he has been ripped apart. Slowly. Painfully. Consistently. Every loss he's had to take, every friend he's had to bury, every betrayal and every blow has taken a shred of him away.
All that's left right now is pain and regrets and an all-consuming struggle for the next breath, for it all to make sense, for a reason to keep going.
Don't wait as long as I did to find someone. I don't want that to happen to you. I love you.
Steve has no idea how long he's standing there, in the middle of the beach, staring out towards the ocean unseeingly, forcing air into his lungs and wishing he could get away from it all. Just up and leave. At least for a while. Escape the memories. Escape the duties and responsibilities. Escape from what his life has become.
Eventually, Steve starts his way back home. He's not running now.
He's dealt with brief episodes of PTSD before. He knows the symptoms. He knows it's not how it works, but he wishes he could figure out a reason why this is happening now. It was probably bound to happen eventually. People have told him time and again that he should take a break. Think of himself for a change. Deal with all the trauma.
The thing is: he can picture it.
He can picture himself taking the next flight out. Whatever the destination, he'll figure it out as he goes. One step at a time. Just himself, no one else to take care of. Re-calibrate his equilibrium. Find out who he is, who he wants to be, what he wants to do with himself.
Life on life's terms or not at all, he remembers himself telling Danny and maybe it's a stupid idea.
It'd be like running away from a problem, and he's many things, but he's not a coward.
He's still mulling over the thought when he reaches his house—and then there's Hirsch and then there's a crime scene and the idea gets pushed to the back of his mind for the rest of the day.
But he doesn't forget about it.
If anything, the way the day goes emphasizes how much he needs a break. How much he wants to take a break. He's tired, and not just because of a couple of sleepless nights. He's tired of people asking favors, he's tired of running himself ragged over cases, he's tired of all these ghosts haunting him—
He's in the garage, going through his dad's old stuff once more, searching for answers he knows he won't find in here, when his phone rings. It's almost like the episode at the beach this morning had been some kind of foreboding, a warning. Like he should have seen it coming.
He's not prepared.
The call from Doris' lawyer knocks the air out of him for the second time that day.
He stands there in the middle of the garage for a long while after the call disconnects. Then he sinks to the floor where he stands, feeling numb and hollow and he's afraid he might pass out—from lack of oxygen or otherwise.
He can't believe it's still not over.
He can't believe she still won't let him go.
Whatever this package contains, he knows it will be trouble.
He doesn't want that anymore. He needs to get out of this game, as far away from it as possible. He doesn't care anymore. He's out of energy, every last bit drained out of him as he's sitting on the dirty floor in his dad's garage unable to breathe, unable to think, just, please, no more.
A few feet away his friends are gathered in his house. They are his family. His ohana. He's glad they don't come looking for him.
Later, when the house his dark and quiet, he goes and sits in one of the deck chairs out by the water. He tries to let the ocean calm him like it usually does. Focusses on his breathing and tries to smell the salt in the air. But it feels like no matter how many breaths he takes it's never enough.
Eventually, he picks up his phone and calls Danny. Tells him about the call and the lawyer and the package.
Talking to Danny is good. Always. Hearing his voice, just listening to him is soothing and comforting and grounding.
Still, the feeling of slowly suffocating remains. In fact, it gets even worse. He doesn't tell Danny about his thoughts, about his wish to get away for a while, because—
Danny is the one reason, the one person who has always kept him going. Who has saved him more times than he can count, who has never lied to him, who always has his back.
Danny is the one reason, the one person who he can't just leave behind. Who he needs to keep save, who he'd never want to hurt, who he needs to be okay with any decision he makes.
—
It's a few days later when Danny makes him sit down and talk.
Of course Danny knows that something is eating at him. Has known for a while. Has tried to talk to him before. Steve knows Danny is worried and he knows, this time he won't get out of it.
So he takes the beer Danny offers him and tries to start on a shallow topic, but Danny can see right through him of course. He doesn't feel ready to talk but he doubts he'll ever be. This won't be getting easier. The lump in his throat is back, larger than before, choking him and he can barely force the words out around it—
"Look, man, I don't know, uh… I don't know when it happened, but something changed. I've been here doing this for so long now, I... I kind of feel like I've been protecting everybody except for myself... does that make sense?"
"Yeah," Danny says and then it's also Danny who actually suggests it. Who doesn't even need to hear more than this basic explanation from Steve, who knows him so well, who obviously knows what Steve needs, just like that.
"So why don't you just take a break? Take some time for yourself and just cool out?"
The relief is immediate and immense. The choke-hold that he's felt around his neck for the past couple of days lessens with every word that is spoken between them. Still, he feels the need to clarify, to rule out any possible misunderstandings, they're not talking about a couple of days off and a weekend in Maui.
"Look, all I know is that ten years ago, I hit the ground running hard and I've been running ever since," Steve finds himself saying. "And I feel like maybe I need a... a little time away to get some perspective, you know?"
"Yeah, I do," Danny says and he's so calm about it, almost like he already knew. "So when?"
"Soon," Steve says and takes a deep breath. The first one in what feels like days. Danny has his back and he shouldn't have doubted it.