AN: This was a WIP that had been sitting on my hard drive for about 10 years until I finally finished it. I didn't write it for any particular reason beyond my own personal enjoyment. It's a death fic. It's sad. It's a shameless self-insert of sorts written in the first person. It's an outsiders POV, and an OC no less. I imagine it will not interest many people, but it was a labor of love and I wanted to archive it.
Thanks to the always amazing Jo (fyeahvulnerablemen on Tumblr) for the beta. I luv u girl!
I.
I'm sixteen years old the first time I meet the detectives from the Five-O task force. My mom's been clocked out for years, too dependent on drugs and her latest fling to give a rat's ass about my sisters and I. So in actuality, the first time I meet the two detectives from the Five-O, I've just started my first ever job. At 16.
The owner of the diner knows my mom so I suspect pity has a lot to do with the fact that he's decided to hire a 16 year old girl part time while she finishes up school. It may also have something to do with the fact that, the prevailing theory is, a cop might actually be my father, so sometimes things like this just happen for me in this community. Plus, my mother can trace our family lines all the way back to Princess Ka'iulani, but in Hawaii, that means something. It's probably why she's not rotting away in some prison cell for the numerous times she's been picked up on drug possession, too.
I resent my mother for a lot of things. But nothing so much as the name she gave me. It's entirely UN-Hawaiian, and I've given up on trying to explain it to people. It's nothing glamorous anyway. I'm Agatha, but my sisters all call me Aggie. My mom was into mystery novels for the longest time and our house is still littered with their shabby copies. Most are paperbacks with the spines so deteriorated you can't make out the titles anymore. Others are missing their covers, jagged paper edges the only thing left of their faces. My mom decided to name me after her favorite author, though I'm completely unsure why. I have no aptitude for mystery, as will be evident in the story I'm about to tell you.
So it's my first day on the job and I'm working a retirement party. There's no booze, no other customers outside the Five-O task force and their friends and family, but it's still a daunting thing to tackle on your first day. Murray, the owner, hands me an apron as soon as I walk in the door.
"Here, you're gonna need this.
I like Murray. He used to be a cop and he actually dated my mom once upon a time. Come to think of it, he was probably one of the only boyfriends of hers I actually liked. He's big and bald and he adored my sisters and I. But like every good thing for my mom, she kicked him to the curb as soon as she realized he didn't make the kind of money she thought he did, and I haven't seen much of him since they broke up. I'm nervous about working here, but even as I pull the apron over my head, tie it behind my back and follow him into the back for the obligatory tour of the kitchen, I can tell it's going to be fine. We slide back into that easy rapport we shared when he was dating my mom, and a little of my nervousness melts away.
"I don't normally rent out the diner for parties like this," Murray is explaining to me as he takes me into the kitchen and introduces me to the people who work for him. Some of them I know. This is a tightknit neighborhood out here. "But Five-O's been coming here since before I bought the place so I made an exception." I have a feeling that exception comes from the fact that Murray used to be a cop, and that Five-O has saved his ass a time or two in the past. Like that one time terrorists planted a bomb in the diner and threatened to blow up half of the island if they didn't get what they wanted. The Five-O task force has been doing things like that for this neighborhood for a while now. If I was Murray, I probably would have given them the diner for the night, too.
"How's your mom?" He asks me, as we end the tour in his stuffy little office; a space which barely has enough room for a desk and a beat up little file cabinet. I glance at the pictures on the wall as I take my seat; Murray in his dress uniform, looking uncomfortable, Murray on the back of a boat with a fish dangling from his hand and a triumphant look on his face. I blush when I come across one of my sisters and me.
"She's fine," I lie as my thighs scrape against the cracked leather surface of the chair he's pulled out for me. Murray doesn't look like he believes me, but nods as he fishes into his desk for something. He emerges with one of those old time label makers and starts so spell my name out onto a piece of blue plastic.
He looks up at me, his face shiny with sweat. "You want it to say Agatha or Aggie?"
I ponder this question for a moment. Agatha sounds so much more mature, more responsible. And that's what I'm trying to go for isn't? My mother's making me grow up sooner than I want to, so why not just embrace it. But then there's a part of me that wants to hold onto Aggie, that carefree high school student with her whole life ahead of her. That's who I am to the people I love most in the world, the word that sounds the most like home when it's rolling off my sister's tongues. But Aggie isn't the one getting a job right now, so I reluctantly let my childhood go and answer Murray on a sigh. "Just do Agatha."
He nods his bald head and finishes punching the letters of my name onto the blue strip. When he's done he affixes the sticky side to a nametag with sharp edges and hands it over to me. "You can wear whatever you want to work, just make sure it's appropriate and that you always have your apron." The smock he gave me has the diner's logo on it, a dolphin emerging from the ocean in the wake of a boat. I pick at the stitching making up the seafoam and nod. He continues, "I know you got school stuff, so just let me know if you need to take a shift off. I don't want you failing out over this." I think about what his words could mean. Does he know my mother drinks away her disability checks every month? Does he know the only reason I'm working this job is so my sisters and I can eat? I also can't help but wonder why he's chosen now to help us when it's been like this for a while.
"K," I say simply, smoothing out the blue piece of thread I've managed to pull from my dolphin's tale.
As it turns out, this is probably the perfect night to start my new job. I get the chance to shadow Karen, one of the other waitresses I'll be working nights with, without any of the stress of actual, paying customers. Karen is in her 30s, overweight but nice. She has a streak of blue in her hair like it will anchor her to youth somehow. I was kind of expecting everyone to be surly and mean to me, but besides the fry cook in the back who would barely look at me when Murray introduced us, everyone's been genuinely nice and welcoming. I can tell they've all been working together for a long time as well. They've developed a kind of shorthand I'm glad I'll have an evening to decipher. Karen takes me through the motions and shows me how everything would work if the people here tonight were actually paying. The only thing that pisses me off is the fact she tells every single person we approach that it's my first day on the job. Some people try to talk to me, ask me questions, but I find if I avoid eye contact and stare down at my boots as I dig my toes into the linoleum, they stop expecting answers. I'm not going to be able to able to keep this up, but at least for tonight, everything is relatively slow going and laid back and the atmosphere is alive with nostalgia and laughter.
A diner isn't the best place to throw a party, but the men and women gathered at Murray's are making the most of it. The celebration is apparently for the two men at the center of the activity who Karen introduces as Detective Danny Williams and Commander Steve McGarrett. Detective Williams is shorter than Commander McGarrett. He's lost almost all his hair and what's left has gone completely white. He keeps the remnants cropped short against a surprisingly long skull but the eyes hidden behind his half moon spectacles are sharp and full of mischief, an active mind held captive by an aging body. His partner, Steve, is tall and lean, like even though he's reached retirement age he still hits the ocean every morning to surf and works out like it's his job. His face is covered in wrinkles and they explode across his face every time that he laughs (which is often, especially when Detective Williams is around). I suspect his hair should be grey, except he's very obviously dyed it a darker brown than he probably should have. They argue like an old married couple for most of the evening and when McGarrett stoops down to capture Detective Williams' lips in a kiss towards the end of the night, Karen whispers in my ear that they've been together for almost 20 years, I'm not at all surprised.
I end the night with more money in my pocket than I expected and a hope in my heart that this is not the last I've seen of the retired Five-O cops.
II.
There are two different kinds of people who come into the diner, those who come to eat, and those who come to socialize. The ones who come for the food mostly keep to themselves, content to swoon over Jasper-the-cook's famous food in their own little worlds. And then there are people like Danny and Steve who come into the diner for the company. I don't work days during the week, but sometimes they come in after their softball games. Mostly I see them on Saturdays and then sometimes on Sunday's when Murray opens the dinner up for the after-church breakfast crowd. They always come in at the same time, take up the same booth towards the back, and order the same thing. Karen used to wait on them exclusively, but ever since she started going to night school at the local community college, she's been taking less and less shifts. I have subtly started taking over custody of the retired officers and I don't think I mind. We're getting to know each other, both of us timid about our new stations in life. Me as a member of the workforce, them as retired officers of the law.
I know Danny and Steve's orders by heart. If they come into the diner for breakfast, Danny always gets a cup of coffee first, and then settles back into the booth with one arm draped over the back to begin a running commentary about the dangers of the things Steve is about to shovel into his mouth. Commander McGarrett has an appetite as wide as his smile, and always orders the biggest breakfast Murray offers; bacon, two eggs, hash browns, short stack of pancakes, and orange juice. It's called The Five-O for good reason. The order never changes, and on this particular morning, while Jasper whips up the eggs in the back just the way the Commander likes, I'm summoned over to their table as if on queue.
"Agatha, darling, come over here. Come help settle a bet for us." I know exactly what it is they're about to ask me but I come over to the table anyway. I try not to roll my eyes because this is the same exact argument they've been having every Sunday since I started here. And if I'm honest with myself, that fact kind of amuses me. These two cops are unlike any other people I've ever met in my life and I think I'm falling in love a little.
"How's school going, kiddo?" Commander McGarrett asks me, trying to distract Detective Williams from the lecture he's about to give on the importance of heart health and how they're not spry, young men anymore. "Did you pass your Chemistry final? You studied so hard for that."
If we're slow, Murray lets me do my homework at one end of the dinner's bar. Steve had seen me sweating over a very soggy study guide and had stopped to give me a few pointers. The fact that he's even remembered to ask me about it throws me through a loop all of a sudden. I'm not used to this kind of attention. The only interest my mother has ever shown in my school work had been when she used my study guide to mop up some spilled vodka. For a moment, I don't know what to say and McGarrett takes my silence for bad news.
"That bad, huh?"
"No," I correct quickly, feeling very self-conscious all of a sudden. "No, I passed." Both Steve and Danny break into a round of applause and Detective Williams pats my arm. If I were with my friends from school they would have made fun of me for this, thought it skeevy that a pair of old gay dudes were talking to me, but right now all I can do is smile wide and flush with delight.
"That's good. That's real good, kid. Keep up the good work and there's nothing you can't do," Steve says with a wink and this tone that sounds an awful lot like pride. It makes me blush even more. Who are these people even?
"You know, I see what you did there, Steven. Trying to use Agatha's good news as a way to hide the fact that you're about to stuff a pound and a half of animal fat into your gullet." Danny wags his finger at his partner. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself." Both Steve and I roll our eyes at the same time. The Commander should have known his ploy wouldn't work.
"That's just great, Daniel," Steve says in mock affront, putting a hand to his heart. The way they lob their full names about like insults never ceases to amuse me. "Way to minimizing this wonderful young lady's achievements just so you can nag me about my eating habits!" Steve turns towards me, and in his most chivalrous tone, says, "Let me apologize on behalf of my partner, dear Agatha. He has no regard for the feelings of others."
Danny shakes his head, regarding Steve with thinly veiled exasperation. "Why do you always do that?"
"Do what?" Steve laughs, turning back towards his partner. "Apologize for your rude behavior?"
"No, not apologize for my rude behavior," Danny mocks. "Call me out like that in front of people."
"What are you talking about? I don't do that!"
"You just did it, Steven!"
"No I didn't!"
"So what you did just then, that wasn't calling me out?"
"I don't think so, no."
"So, I just imagined it then? You calling me a crabby old guy who doesn't care about Agatha passing her math test doesn't count as calling me out?"
"It's chemistry," Steve corrects, straight faced.
"What?"
"It's not math, it's chemistry."
"I don't care, Steven."
"That's my point, Daniel ."
"What?"
"That's my point," Steve repeats. "You should care."
"So what," Danny sputters, clearly exasperated that the conversation has gone so completely off the rails, "you're telling me I don't care now?"
"No, I'm telling you that you should care about things that matter ."
"Things that matter, huh? And do those things that matter happen to include your health?"
"Not after Agatha passed her chemistry final, no."
"That's just stupid, Steve."
"Oh, so I'm stupid now?"
Danny throws his hands up in the air. "That's not what I meant and you know it."
"So then what is it that you do mean, dear?" The way Steve says the word nearly makes me laugh. Danny is fuming.
"I mean maybe we ought to listen to those doctors when they tell you what you can and cannot eat these days, Steven. What, do you think those guys just talk to hear themselves talk?"
"Pretty much," Steve says lightly enough, but a strange heaviness that wasn't there before has creeped into the conversation. I sense there's more to this line of banter than meets the eye, especially when Danny gets quiet and something unspoken passes between them as I stand there awkwardly beside their table. A moment later Jasper's shrill yell that the order is up breaks the tension and I take off for the kitchen pass-through. By the time I return with Steve's plates and a refill for Danny's coffee, they're back at it again, but this time it's different, lighter and back to normal. I lose myself in English homework down at the end of the bar while they eat. I stumble through Keates as Commander McGarrett's laughter fills the diner.
III.
My seventeenth birthday dawns cool and dreary. Hawaii doesn't really do cool and dreary, so you can imagine how this makes me feel. To make matters worse, my mother found my hidden lock box of tip money last night while I was working and blew the entire contents on booze. It was supposed to cover our rent for this month and pay for some new school clothes for my sisters. I'm so mad right now I could kill someone. I've already been asking Murray for more shifts at the diner, but tourist season is slowing down and he just can't afford to give me more. If I don't do something soon, people are going to start noticing. And I've worked too hard and come too far for my family to be torn apart now.
I walk to work in the rain because I have no money to buy gas for our pathetic little beat up Ford Tempo. My clothes are soaked through by the time I reach Murray's, but I don't go in right away. I plop myself down on the little raised curb outside the door instead, and bury my head in my hands. I'm trying desperately not to cry, unsure of why I'm resisting the tears. It's not like anyone would care or notice. And if they did, I could just blame my streaked mascara and runny nose on the rain. But crying seems pointless right now. In fact, everything seems pointless, and I wonder why I keep all this up in the first place. If we're just going to end up living out of my car anyway, why work, why go to school? I should just walk in there and quit, or not show up at all and mail Murray my rain soaked smock tomorrow. Maybe add a little note. So long and thanks for all the fish. Murray reads, he might get the reference. I even have a lead on a full time job I could get if I quit school and the diner. It would mean putting my life on hold indefinitely, but at least my sisters would be taken care of.
I'm just about to put my whole pitiful plan into action when I hear the sound of approaching voices. Two voices, to be specific; as jubilant and carefree as school children running through the rain. They're instantly recognizable, and yet I don't look up when they get close and notice me. Steve says something soft to Danny who immediately objects, but after a few moments of quiet argument, I hear the bell over the door to the dinner tinkle and one person enter. The other approaches me quietly, but I still keep my head down. Steve clears his throat so as not to startle me and tears well up in my eyes.
"Aggie, kidd-o, are you okay?" We dispensed with formal titles long ago.
I blink up into the rain at Steve and the former Navy Seal tilts his head to the side as he smiles down at me. Steve's smile has always been like the sun breaking through the clouds and I realize then how much I've missed him. Steve has been having some health problems so he and Danny haven't been coming into the diner as much lately. I didn't realize how much this bothered me until right this second.
I wipe my dripping nose with my sleeve and try to pretend like the moisture on my face is all from the rain.
"You shouldn't be out in this." I say, rather than answer his question. It's the truth, anyway. No one's come right out and said anything about Steve being sick, but even I can tell he's lost weight. Even I can see how his joints are starting to bother him and how his muscles no longer hold the definition they once did. It's like he's aged ten years in a few months and it's scaring the crap out of me.
"There are worse things in life than a little rain," Steve says solemnly as he peers up at the heavy, grey clouds. For a moment I'm not sure if he's talking to himself or to me. A second later he seems to shake himself away from whatever that was and smiles at me again. I nearly forget that it's raining.
"What's going on kid?"
I tell him. I don't know why, but I open my mouth and suddenly everything is spilling out. And it's personal crap too, things I normally wouldn't tell anyone else in the world. Steve sits down beside me on the wet curb, even though I can tell it pains him, and I rest my head on his upper arm as I cry. My tears seem to be all the water the air needs and the rain recedes as I sob my troubles out onto Steve's shirt sleeve. At first he just listens as I tell him about my mother and the money, about supporting my sisters and the full time job I can get over on Oahu if I quit school and leave the diner. He listens to all of it, wrapping his arm around my shoulders when talking gets to be too much and all I can do is weep. When it's all said and done, I'm a wreck and the former Navy Commander procures a handkerchief from his shirt pocket to help me dry my face. It's embroidered with his and Danny's initials.
"Just keep it," he tells me when I try to give it back a while later.
"Aggie, I'm going to tell you something I wish someone had told me when I was your age," Steve says as I distastefully blow my nose into my new handkerchief. "You are in charge of your own destiny."
I nearly snort. Steve and Danny have been trying to dispense their "wisdom" to me like this for years. While part of me wants to head for the hills and avoid this part of the conversation, I make myself stay. I stay because Steve is like all the family members I never had all rolled up into one: father, grandparent, crazy uncle. I stay because he's sick and because I'm pretty sure I smeared more than just tears on his shirt sleeve (like he'd care). I really listen as he continues on after mistaking my snickering for choking and thumps me on the back a few times.
"I'm serious, Aggie. Life is going to try and beat you down. People are going to try and convince you that they know the kind of person you should be. But none of that matters. They don't matter because you know who you are. You knew the moment you put that apron on and decided you would take care of your family." He nods to the smock I've got balled up in my lap and we both contemplate the dolphin's embroidered smile for a moment. It's hard to see past the end of your own nose sometimes when you're my age, but I can't help but wonder about Steve's past as we sit there. He was a teenager once, so maybe he knows what he's talking about. Maybe the "advice" he and Danny have been trying to give me these past few years is something I ought to pay attention to. I suddenly feel a lot older than 17, and I'm not sure I like it.
"Oh, hell," Steve mutters, throwing up his hands. "You're amazing, kid, and I am so incredibly proud of you. There, I said it."
It starts to rain again as it slowly dawns on me that this is the first time anyone has ever said something like this to me. The rain patters against the leaves of the bushes beside us and on the ground. Sometimes when it's hot enough here, the rain will make steam rise right up off the pavement. There's no steam today as I think about the dangers of letting myself care too much about someone who isn't family. Someone I don't know completely and who could still hurt me. But what was it that Steve just told me? None of it matters. I'm in charge of my own destiny.
"Come on, let's get out of this rain," Steve says, letting me off the hook as I try to figure out how to respond. He gets up with some difficulty, but I hold back an offer to help. Something tells me now is not the time. He opens the door for me and I'm greeted by a chorus of happy voices all yelling 'surprise!' and handmade banner with 'Happy Birthday Aggie' written on it and strung across the kitchen passthrough. Even Jasper is smiling at me from over his grill.
"You didn't think we forgot, did you?" Steve whispers in my ear just before he lopes off to join Danny at the other end of the breakfast counter. I watch him take his partner's hand and kiss his cheek as they argue over who should light the candles on my cake.
When I count up my tips and the money people gave me in their cards later that night, my mom passed out on the couch in the living room with the TV blaring, I cry for the second time that day. It's more than enough to get us through the week. In fact, it's enough to replace everything my mother stole from me. And I'm not just talking about the money.
IV.
When I graduate high school, Murray throws me another party at the diner that my mother does not attend. I moved out and took my sister's with me. They're all still in school, so it's night classes at the local community college for me for the time being. Even so, this is still a huge achievement, no thanks to my mom, and one Murray insists must be celebrated with a party.
I've done a lot of growing up in the 3 years I've worked for him. Enough to realize what a break I caught getting this job. There aren't many bosses out there who would have taken a chance on a moody 16 year old girl about ready to drop out of school to support her family full time. I suspect if Murray hadn't hired me, my life might have turned out very differently. Thanks to him, I made it through school, passed with honors even, and now the people here are my true O'hana.
On the day of the party Jasper cooks and Karen flies all the way in from the mainland just for me. I have lots of regulars at the dinner that I've gotten to know over the years, but Steve and Danny are the only ones I invite to the party. In fact, I offer them the graduation tickets reserved for my parents the night before the ceremony. It was the most terrifying moment of my life, my hands sweaty and my heart racing as I finally put into words the effect they've had on my life these past few years. Somewhere deep inside, I think I was still that scared 16 year old, fearing they would say no and abandon me like my mother did. But they don't, they never have, and we're all blubbering like idiots by the time they say yes and I finally hand over the tickets.
When Steve and Danny arrive at the party, the bell over the diner's door tinkles. Murray holds it open so Danny can maneuver Steve's wheelchair over the threshold. The former SEAL is a pale comparison of the man I first met all those years ago, though he has gained some of his weight back since stopping the chemo. There's color in his cheeks again and his smile can still chase away storm clouds, and charm the pants off anyone he meets. The lucky bastard managed to keep all his hair. It's a wonderful salt and pepper color now that he doesn't dye it any longer. Danny is timeless and besides a few wrinkles, still looks the same to me.
The party is fun. Friends I made in school stop by thanks to the invitations Murray made for me on the ancient inkjet printer in his office. My sisters are there and Abigail, the youngest, takes to Steve like white on rice. They're inseparable until Steve quietly asks for her to go and play with her sisters while he talks to me. Something wordless passes between the two men as Danny wheels him over to where I'm standing.
"Thank you so much for today," I say, eyes watery with gratitude and nostalgia. It is not lost on me that these two men stood up for me today, proclaimed to the world that I was as much a daughter to them as any biological kid. I would receive no greater gift today, not even if my mother showed up and apologized for everything she'd ever done to me.
"You're welcome, Kidd-o," Danny says as Steve beams up at me. "But we've got one more thing for you."
Before I can even ask what that might be, Danny is holding up a large envelope for me to take.
"What is it?" I ask, suddenly nervous.
"Just open it," Steve replies eagerly, sharing another conspiratorial look with Danny. The former detective squeezes his partner's shoulder gently.
I tear at the opening. It's not sealed so it's not long before I'm holding a set of official looking documents in my hand. There are numbers on it, large numbers, and words I can barely read through my tears. "What is this?" I ask again.
"It's a trust," Danny explains. "Set up in your name to help you pay for school. There's enough in there for you to go to just about any University you want, and some left over to help you get on your feet. Not that we think you'll need much help in that department."
"This… this is too much," I stammer, the enormity of what I've just been handed finally hitting me.
"Do you remember when I told you that you are in charge of your own destiny?" Steve asks and I nod stupidly. "This money is not a hand out. Think of it as a kind of investment. We've seen what you're capable of, kid, and we know you'll go far.
Steve gets up out of his wheelchair so he can hug me properly. Danny hovers nearby, nervous and anxious. I make promises to them, to honor their legacy and to make them proud. They waive me off, secure in the decisions they've made. You deserve it, they keep saying. And suddenly, I'm starting to believe it.
V.
School is off for the summer. It's humid and the air is so thick it feels like you could cut it with a knife. Everywhere you look heavy flowers are blooming and water drips from the leaves. I've picked up a few shifts at the diner. Not because I need the money, but because I miss the place. Plus, there's a new kid working there who needs to be shown the ropes. But if I'm really being honest, it's been a nice escape from the long hours at the hospital. But all that's over now.
I push through the diner door and am met with silence. Someone has removed the bell. Jasper looks up from the grill and waves to me. So does Phillipa, a newer waitress, who smiles at me from over the magazine she's reading. I return their greetings soundlessly and make my way over to where the diner's solitary customer is sitting in a booth by himself. His shoulders are slumped as he curls over a solitary cup of coffee. I don't say anything, just slip in beside him. Not opposite, but beside. I have a feeling the bench opposite him will need to stay empty for a long time to come.
I've always liked the table tops in the diner. The pattern on the linoleum reminds me of boomerangs and who doesn't like the idea of a boomerang? They seem impossible, and yet there are people out there who have mastered the art. Just like there are people out there who have mastered the art of the mourning dance that will take place in the coming days.
The balding man beside me sighs heavily. "So you found me then."
I don't say anything, just push my arm gently against his.
He stares down into his coffee. It's still steaming a little. "I miss him already. Is that normal?" Danny glances at his watch. "He died, what, two hours ago and I'm already wondering how in the hell I'm supposed to do this without him. I saved that man from so many things, got him out of so many scrapes, and in the end it was cancer that got him.
"They told him, you know," Danny went on. I don't dare speak. I'll let him go on for as long as he needs. "They told him the radiation from that stupid bomb would likely come back to haunt him, but it's like he didn't even care. I gotta live my life, Danny, that's what he always used to tell me. Every damn time I would try and tell him he needed to take better care of himself, that's what he would say. It was like living with a teenager, no offense."
"None taken."
"I've never loved and been more infuriated at someone in my entire life. We stopped wars and madmen and nuclear disasters, and for what? I wanted to grow old with my husband, and by some miracle I did. So why does this feel like the end of the world? Who do I feel like I'll never be able to breathe again?"
Danny looks to me, his eyes as wide as saucers, looking for answers I don't have. I haven't experienced the kind of love or loss he's talking about. Steve's death hasn't hit me yet and all I have to offer is comfort. I wrap my arms around Danny's shoulders and hug him. He trembles in my arms and doesn't speak again for a long time. When he's ready to go, I offer to drive him home. Grace is waiting for him there and she wants to see us both. I hand him the bowler hat he's taken to wearing the last year or so (I think it's because Steve told him once in the hospital during a period of lucidity that it looked good on him) and we make our way out into the stifling Hawaiian heat. I stop before I leave, watching a handful of scenes play out in my minds eye as I stand in the doorway of my diner: long nights of studying at the counter, Steve helping me with my homework, Steve and Danny bantering over breakfast in their booth, the parties and the laughter. Steve will never enter this place again, but his memory will live on; in my memories and the picture Murray will inevitably put up on the wall, along with his other fallen friends, next to Chin Ho Kelly and Jerry Ortega. We'll talk about him for years to come because I'm always going to come back to this place. It's where I began. Where two cops who were impossibly in love, showed me that I was worth it. That I was in charge of my own destiny and could be anything and reach higher than I ever thought possible.
It's home, my ohana. Now and forever.