Steve had a tree all picked out. Though covered by snow, Danny could see the tracks. Someone had scouted the area. And it was a perfect tree. Not too tall at about five feet. Just a little bushy. The needles weren't the super prickly type. He hated to cut it down, it was so beautiful. Standing there in the snow and the afternoon sun throwing grey shadows on the snow, the whole thing felt like a dream. Charlie danced around, checking out the tree, tugging on the branches, shaking off the loose covering of snow. Grace growled at him for getting her wet. He'd better watch out or he'd pay. Big time. Danny smiled. He was warm, inside and out. Steve scolded the kids lightly. They were on a mission. This was their tree.
Grace didn't want to chop it down. She wanted to save it.
Charlie wanted to turn it to mulch. He wanted to use the chainsaw.
With a sigh, Danny looked at Steve. What should they do?
"We can take a few branches and decorate them instead? I can rig something up." Steve offered with a shrug. "That's if you want to save the tree."
"Save the tree!" Charlie had already switched gears. He peered inside the branches. "I bet a squirrel lives in here. We can't take his home. Not on Christmas."
"Thank you, Uncle Steve." Grace said as she hugged him tight. "You're the best."
Danny didn't say a word. He liked blending into the background. He didn't have to be the one with all the answers. Like always, Steve had his back.
"Uncle Steve?"
"Yea Charlie?"
"Can we watch Charlie Brown? Because we have to watch Charlie Brown while we decorate. It's tradition. And then have hot chocolate and bake cookies."
"Easy there," Danny said, "Let's pace ourselves."
/././
"Grace, please tell me what's wrong?" It was a request and an order all in one. Danny didn't want to upset her further.
"Nothing. Could you hand me those lights?" Grace asked. She strung her end of lights through the small tree. Danny attached his half of the string to hers and clipped them to a branch. She didn't thank him. She just grunted like someone else he knew. Grace had been around Steve too long.
Hands on his hips, Danny surveyed his daughter. "Your mood says otherwise."
She frowned and kept her mouth shut. He pointed at her, waving his index finger.
"See, that face says something's wrong."
"You can't fix everything."
Danny squinted at her and asked, "Ok, where'd this come from? I ask you to come out and help with the lights on the trees, and you give me major attitude. Did something happen? I saw you on the phone."
"I can handle myself, dad."
Danny knew she was right. He'd made sure his daughter was equipped for the world. As best as he could. She was a strong, capable young woman. Resilient. He'd told her all about boys and what idiots they could be, emotionally and physically. He'd given her pepper spray. He'd also taught her how to handle a gun. How to respect firearms. Steve had shown her self defense moves, made her practice them. They both schooled her on escape and evade methods. Survive until rescue. They had safe words and a family code. She knew how to be smart, not scared. All of those lessons ran through him like rain gushing from a downspout. Leaving him empty and shaken. He didn't want Grace to have to handle herself.
"I know you can, Grace. I just want to make sure this boy –"
He watched the color drain from her face, and he regretted his choice of words. Charlie was a boy. Grace's current boyfriend was two years older than her. Which didn't help the situation.
"He's not a boy."
She looked so much like her mother as she glared at him.
"Monkey –"
Grace didn't just cut him off. She sliced through his attempt to soothe her. "Don't Monkey me, Danno."
"Danno? If you can call me Danno, then I can call you Monkey." God, he sounded like Charlie whining. Chip off the old block, he heard Steve in his head.
Arms crossed, Grace shook her head. Danny won the staring contest, though. She looked away, digging her foot into the snow.
"I know you ran a background check on him," she said.
Danny answered way too fast. He let his annoyance and frustration show, "Of course I did, Grace. You're my daughter. You'll always be my little girl. I won't apologize for that."
"Why can't you just leave me alone?"
Her mouth hung open after the fury of those words.
Danny closed his eyes and swallowed his angry reply. He wanted to spew fire. His daughter had Rachel's knack for cutting him in two.
"Grace." All he could do was say her name.
She burst into tears. "I just want us to be normal."
He held out his arms, hoping she accept his invitation. She did.
"Oh Grace. I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault," she answered, catching her breath between sobs, "It's not Uncle Steve's fault either. So don't go there."
She poked him in the ribs. He jumped and giggled.
"Hey, that's not fair."
"Life isn't fair, dad. It is what it is."
"How did you get so wise?"
"You." She threw herself at her dad.
Danny held on tight. He knew Grace was slipping away. She wouldn't be his for too much longer. This guy, or someone else, would surely take her away. And soon. Or it could be a job she threw herself into. He knew the signs. Life had its own terms, and children leaving the nest was one of its cruelest.
That's why he was determined to make this Christmas one of the best. To not fuck it up. He'd hoped this trip to winter wonderland would cement his efforts to give her one last family holiday. Mainly it was for his own benefit. Danny knew it was selfish and sure to backfire. But he'd enjoy it no matter what. Making Grace cry like this was not on the list.
"I'm sorry, Grace."
"It's okay, dad."
"No, it's not."
"I know we have to be careful."
Now, it was his turn to cry. Hot tears burned his half-frostbitten cheeks. He wanted to take this conversation into the cabin, but he didn't want to ruin Steve and Charlie's cookie baking.
"I like this new guy."
"You've never met him."
"I still like him."
She raised an eyebrow and demanded, "Tell me what you did."
"I didn't –"
"What did Uncle Steve do then?"
"Uh – he – might have – uh –"
Her whole face morphed into a frown; Grace shot her own version of RPGs at the cabin. She shook her head, exhaling loudly. Pushing away from her dad, she said, "That's why Terry was jumpy. Uncle Steve – what did he do?"
"He might have paid him a visit."
"But he's been here, right?"
"He took a little trip."
"He did what?" Her voice echoed and she shrank a little.
"You've been so serious about him – we just – I – "
"His name is Terry! Say his name."
"Terry," Danny stopped a second. Saying the kid's name made it more real. "Terry is important to you, Grace. I – we – wanted to be sure he was –"
"Stop. Right now. Don't ever do that again. I don't care about background checks. Go ahead, dig into his past. Whatever. But don't you – or Uncle Steve – ever try to scare one of my boyfriends again."
"Grace."
"I mean it. You can check them out. I get it. But that's it. You gotta trust me."
He could tell she was winding down. The air was cold. Her cheeks were bright pink. Her eyes were a glassy from crying. She had her hands shoved into her pockets. He adored his stubborn little girl, even though she was no longer little or his. Grace had grown into her own person without him realizing it. The craziness of the last year had knocked him off his dad game.
"You can handle yourself, Grace. I'm proud of you." He felt all gooey and uncomfortable. The sharp gust of wind was the only thing that kept him from melting. The emotion sapped his strength because it made him think about all that he could have lost. And what he might have put his precious children through if the worst had happened.
"That's right," she replied, "I can handle myself because of you!"
Frantic for a few seconds, Danny shuffled to the picnic table. He brushed off most of the snow from the bench seat and sat down with a huff.
"Danno? Are you okay?"
The pessimistic parts of him warred with his better angels. He shoved it all away, taking in only this moment. The crisp, cold air that helped to clear his head. The snow that covered all the terrible memories of his previous visit to this place. The breathtaking landscape. It was a Christmas card, all decked out in lights that now glittered as the sun set gloriously.
"Yes, I'm good, Grace."
She cleared herself a spot and settled herself beside him. Snaking one arm behind him, she rested her head on his shoulder, and with a sigh, said, "It's so beautiful here. Thank you for bringing us."
"I'm glad you like it, Monkey. Merry Christmas."
/././
"It's a pantry, Danny," Steve said.
He stood beside a door in the kitchen, tray of hot cookies in his hand. A wreath with a candy cane hung from the door knob. A gift from Charlie the Christmas Elf.
"I bet there's a hidden switch in there that opens the wall to reveal a ridiculous weapons cache."
"Maybe," Steve answered as he lifted the last chocolate chip cookie from a tray and laid it on the towel beside its brethren.
"Maybe?" Danny replied, voice raised a little with annoyance and slight exacerbation.
"I believe in being prepared, Danny. You know that. And I also know you keep weapons around your house."
"What? No."
Steve frowned and raised an eyebrow.
"Ok, so I keep a gun in an old oatmeal container."
"And…" Steve waved for Danny to continue, but he didn't wish to discuss his home security. He was more curious about what Steve had done.
With a sigh, Danny opened the door and stepped into the small room. Shelves lined two walls and coats hung directly in front of him. He scanned the cans of soup, bags of coffee and tubs of protein powder. Nothing appeared out of place. It looked like a normal pantry. A rather boring one at that. No junkfood.
"So where's the switch?"
"I'm not telling you. You figure it out."
"I should call you Charlie."
"You're the detective."
Danny nodded and moved a few boxes. He chewed on his lip, lost in thought. The switch would be easy, but not obvious. You needed to be able to get to the weapons quickly. Your life depended on it.
He felt a rush of adrenaline. One he hadn't felt for months. Shit. He didn't like it. And he realized it would never completely leave him. They'd both made enemies. Someone could always come looking for them. It was the reality of their jobs.
Closing his eyes, Danny took a deep breath, pushing the anxiety away. Then he opened his eyes and smiled.
"You're an idiot," he told Steve as he reached for the can of pineapple.
The wall with the coats swung open, revealing another space. Guns and knives and grenades and Kevlar vests lined the walls or filled the bins in front of him. There was food and water, too. He realized this was also a safe room. Very small, but it could probably fit the four of them. Uncomfortably, but it might give them time. If the worst happened.
"I'm thinking of digging a tunnel."
Danny jumped. Steve was closer than he realized. Right behind him. Breath now warm on his neck.
"A tunnel, Steven? Really?"
"Yea," Steve replied, slipping one hand around Danny's waist, his fingertips toying with the snap on Danny's jeans. He kissed Danny's bare skin just below his ear, sending a battalion of gooseflesh up and down his arms. "A tunnel. Right under your feet. Out to the shed."
A delightful shiver rippled through his body, and Danny answered, "Seriously?"
He had to keep his wits, but it was damn hard – bad choice of words – it was tough to think straight with Steve pressing his prominent erection against him. Danny strained to listen for his kids while enjoying every second of their contact.
"Uh huh." Steve turned Danny so they were facing one another, pressed close in the dim light. "I'm very serious. About the…tunnel."
"Animal," Danny whispered against Steve's lips.
Steve growled.
"Danno?" A small voice made them both take a step back.
"Ow dammit." Danny fell into a box of grenades and what could be detonators. It was then that he noticed the duffel bags under the table. Four of them. He heard Steve talking to Charlie and he really should help him steer Charlie clear of this room. There would come a time when Charlie, like his sister, would have to be educated on their dangerous life. Right then, Danny focused on those bags. He opened one and his eyes pricked with tears. He picked up the passport. Grace. Digging further, he found cash and a change of clothes. Credit cards. Sturdy shoes. A survival blanket. Protein bars and water purifying tabs. This was a go bag. Steve's version of love. He almost lost his legs. Everything went numb. His heart pounded in his ears.
"There's one for each of us," Steve said. Timid, like he figured Danny would yell.
Danny closed the bag, patting it gently. He didn't move and Steve molded himself against him, helping him straighten and regain his balance.
"Thank you. For this. For all of it," Danny mumbled.
"You like it?"
"Yes." He kept it simple. There was no use bringing up their past arguments. This was now. He was standing in a safe room, constructed by his partner. Staring at four go bags. Meant for all of them. Steve protecting them like he always did. Misguided though his efforts sometimes were.
"Let's get outta here," Steve said, his voice felt far away even though his mouth was right at Danny's ear.
He pulled Danny backwards into the neat, plain unassuming pantry and then back into the bright kitchen. Danny watched as Steve closed up the safe room. He was lost for a few seconds, eyes adjusting to reality.
"We can show the kids, if you want. Or not."
Steve was nervous. Danny smiled. He loved that Steve cared so much that it made him nervous, anxious.
"Grace first. I'm not sure Charlie's ready."
Nodding, Steve tidied the pantry.
"And pineapple, Steven? What if my kids-"
Steve laughed, "They take after their father."
"Yea, they do," Danny said.
"Charlie told me, arms crossed, that pineapple was totally overrated."
"He did?"
"Last year. I was making fruit salad."
"Chip off the old block."
Shutting the door, Steve straightened the little wreath on the doorknob. Danny parked himself at the table, exhausted by the emotion of the moment. A safe room. The reveal both relaxed and unsettled him. He felt some relief knowing they had that protection. He had a place to hide the kids if the worst happened. He had weapons to defend the cabin. It still made him sick that they could possibly need that defense. Especially to that extent. That cache was so much different than the proverbial shotgun on the wall or the handgun in the bread box. He wondered if Steve kept one there too, like he did back home. He'd ask later once he regained his voice.
This was all so much. Not too much though, surprisingly. Danny found it all felt rather normal. Part of him was familiar and comfortable with the chaos. But his body and mind were easily tired these days. The doctors he'd seen warned him recovery would be slower this time. You can only get shot so many times before bouncing back is no longer possible. You mend and that's it. Like the tree that builds its bark over the offending scar, keeping the wound, not entirely healing. You learn to work around the aches and pains. You accept the loss of your former self. At least, that was the advice of his shrink.
"Earth to Danno," Steve called.
Danny looked up. He'd been staring at a whorl in the wood on the table, seeing past it into the blur of his swirling thoughts.
"I got lost there for a second."
Steve put his hands on Danny's shoulders and squeezed. He replied, "Take your time. Grace took Charlie for a walk to see the horses. I have some treats for them I keep in the fridge."
"You're really gonna build a tunnel?"
"Dig. I'm gonna dig a tunnel."
Rolling his eyes, Danny turned and pulled Steve down for a quick kiss. "What am I going to do with you, Steven?"
"Oh, Daniel, I can think of many, many things."
/././
There may be 2 more chapters. Possibly more...
