Chapter eight

A/N: Hope everyone had a great Christmas. I caught up on some reading and writing, and I'm happy to share another chapter with you. Story's coming to an end, I'll post the epilogue sometime next week. I do have other stories in the work though so fear not, I will be back!

I'd like to thank all the guests who have left comments so far: I can't reply to you personally, but I appreciate your reviews (especially yours, Stephanie, it made my day!)

Now, are you ready for some H/C? Our favorite BFFs are finally spending some time together…

Mostly, he remembered the ocean.

The waves rolling in an endless pattern, the color of the water against the golden sand.

Sure, he'd seen it every day of his life but that one time, on that particular day, his breath had been taken away, as if he had realized for the first time just how small and vulnerable he was compared to its greatness.

Standing beside him, his mother had explained that the Pacific was the world's largest ocean, and with the typical determination of every ten-year old, Steve had immediately replied that really, it was a no-brainer, because there couldn't be anything bigger than that.

Doris had smiled then, kissed him on the forehead, and told him that sometimes, things are just not as they seem. That what we see is just part of the surface. The rest is left to the imagination, or in that case the textbooks she was going to make sure he read as soon as the new school year started.

That day, she had taken both her kids to Hanauma Bay. It was a family event they'd planned for weeks, a day for the four of them to gather and spend some quality time together. But John's work had interfered at the very last moment, and his dad had never been good at saying no to it. A young woman had gone missing, and HPD needed his help. After a brief but intense argument, John McGarrett had left, slamming the door on his way out, and Doris had come to Steve's room where he and Mary were gathered, telling them to get their things ready. Beach day was still on, even if it was just the three of them, and she was going to make sure they'd enjoy every minute of it.

When John had surprisingly showed up a few hours later, Steve was standing on the shore. His mom's face had lit up and so had Mary's, who had perfected her 'daddy's girl' role to a tee.

Steve had breathed in the salty air, feeling invincible.

If only he'd known.

Later, while they were playing in the water, Mary had found a small fish. The poor thing was obviously in pain – twisting, gasping for air. Steve could tell there was nothing that could be done for it, but his sister had cradled it in her small hands and tried her best to help it any way she could. She had tried to feed it, put it into a small bucket she'd filled with water. All to no avail. The fish had died a short while later, and Mary had started crying. Not the irritating weep of a spoiled brat, but a heartbroken cry that couldn't be consoled.

He remembered getting angry at her, afraid that a stupid fish was going to ruin their day, then unable to witness his sister's pain any longer, he had offered to dig a hole in the sand so they could bury it. Even his mother had helped, saying a few words for the eulogy as they covered the makeshift grave.

Finally satisfied that the fish had found its peace, Mary had said goodbye to it and enjoyed the rest of the day like nothing had happened.

That was the kind of sweet, sensitive kid his sister had been before Doris' fake death and life in general messed her up. The kind of family they were before the subterfuges, the lies, the pain.

Maybe if things hadn't so drastically changed he wouldn't be here now, working up the courage to get out of his truck, or trying to pick up the pieces of what was left of those four people playing in the sand.

Maybe.

Stepping out into the humid air, Steve was surprised by how easily those images had slipped back into his brain, as clear and vivid as if everything had happened just minutes before. He thought he'd forgotten all about that day.

The wind bit at his face and hands but he barely felt it as he moved along the familiar area of the National Memorial Cemetery, grass crunching beneath the soles of his shoes.

He had parked some distance away, preferring to walk for the solitude and peace that it offered. It also gave him a chance to think about what he was gonna say to his dad since he hadn't really planned the visit.

After leaving Mary in police custody, he had sat in the Silverado for the longest time. Then he'd started driving, and without even realizing it, had found himself heading toward his father's resting place.

Standing above the simple, marble grave, Steve shoved his hands into his pockets and stared down at it.

"Hey, Dad," he said quietly. "I know it's been a while but, uh... a few things happened since my last visit." He stopped and wiped his sweaty palms against his thighs. "Mary's back. She's alright, she's..." Damn, who was he kidding? Despite being raised as a Catholic he'd never been much of a believer, but if there really was an afterlife and John McGarrett was looking down at him he probably knew that he was lying to him.

"She's not alright," he admitted, feeling a knot beginning to develop in his stomach. "She's sitting behind bars at the courthouse."

He knelt beside the grave, plucking a few leaves that had fallen on it. "She killed a man. Ended him with a perfect shot to the chest…"

A flock of birds flew over his head, soaring across the sky, their wings moving in sync in a beautifully choreographed dance. Steve looked up, watching them until they became just specks on the horizon.

"I was mad at you, dad," he admitted, sinking down to the ground and trying like hell to hold back his emotions. "The day you sent us away, I hated you with all I had. I wasn't ready to be a man, I just— I just wanted to be a boy. I understand now. I understand you just wanted to keep us safe. That was all you were worried about. I tried to do that with Mary, keep her safe, but I failed…I'm sorry…"

Tears filled his eyes. "You know what I've been thinking about? That day at Hanauma Bay. After we buried that fish, while we were swimming in the water, I grabbed Mary's leg and pulled her under. She didn't know how to swim so you got mad at me because you thought I'd scared her to death. But she came out of the water and started laughing, asking me to do it again..."

He cleared his throat, nodding as if his father had just answered that yes, he remembered it as well. It was probably a stupid thought, but he held it in his mind anyway.

"I'm not sure what happened. Why we stopped talking to each other..." Mary had asked him a few years back. She wanted to know why they weren't even friends anymore, what she'd done to deserve that. Steve didn't have an answer to that, but the question had stayed with him. "What we went through... it was hell. But I survived, and it made me stronger. I guess I expected her to follow my path, solve her own problems, and when she started struggling I felt… disappointed and uh, I left her behind."

The clouds parted, revealing a pallid sun casting its rays over the land. "I'm sorry I wasn't the brother she deserved, and I'm sorry if I ever disappointed you…" He barely got the words out. The last threads of his control shredded, and Steve started to cry. Months' worth of pain, grief and anger poured out of him before he could stop them, racking his frame so violently it scared him.

Burying his face in his hands, he cried for a mother that even after all these years continued to lie and elude him, for Mary and the scars she was going to have to live with and for his own life, altered by all these traumatic events.

As he sat on the grass, his defenses completely down, time slowly slipped away. Later, he wouldn't be able to remember how long he'd stayed there. Only the touch of a hand that brought his senses back. A touch quieter than a breath.

Looking up through eyes still filled with tears, he saw Danny smiling at him.

Danny always knew where to find him.

Always seemed to know what was going through his head.

"Hey…I called a few times to see how you guys were doing and it kept going straight to voicemail," he said, deliberately failing to mention how worried he had been as he'd kept dialing. "This sounded like a good place to be."

Steve wiped his eyes with the back of his hands but did not speak for several minutes. Then he tilted his head to the side and looked at Danny, brows furrowed in pain and confusion. "I tried, Danny. I tried so hard…but I can't keep everyone safe," he finally said in a soft, child-like voice.

"You don't need to," Danny replied, crouching down next to him and putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Babe, listen to me. I understand, alright? I understand a lot more than you think, but there's just so much you can do. The thing is, sometimes, no matter how hard we try to protect the people we love, they just mess things up. And when that happens, we have to find a way not to blame ourselves for that," he said with a shrug. "You can't carry this weight on your shoulders…"

"Do you think my dad loved me? I mean, I know he did but sometimes…"

Danny stilled, a sharp ache stinging his chest as he wondered what had prompted the question. "Of course he did. Listen, Steve, love is never black or white, alright? There's a thousand shades of gray in between. And he may not have showed it to you like you deserved but he loved you very, very much."

Steve nodded unconvincingly. "Sometimes... I feel like I've disappointed him, you know? That if he were here today, he'd tell me exactly how many ways I've screwed up."

"It's not your fault, buddy," Danny said firmly. "This thing with Mary…none of this is. You can ask yourself why stuff like this happens, or what you could've done differently, but the truth is sometimes people just disappoint us. Even the most important people in our life. Matty was a good brother, and yet I've spent the last six years trying to understand why he did what he did. I can't. I don't. We don't get to choose our blood family, but we can make sure we learn from their mistakes and become better persons." His hand settled at the center of Steve's back, then slowly traveled upward, eventually curling around the back of his neck. "Trust me, there is nothing stronger than the love of a parent for his child. You'll get to experience that soon, and then you'll understand what I'm talking about."

A humorless laugh escaped Steve's lips. "Soon, huh?"

"Well, if you stop living like a monk."

"I'm tired, Danny. So tired..."

There was nothing Danny could offer to that so he just sat by his friend's side, rubbing gently at his neck, waiting for the emotions to run their course. "It's gonna be all right, Steve, I promise. You'll get through this."

"I still can't believe I'll never see him again. I miss him so much..."

Feeling weak and empty, Steve unconsciously leaned forward so that his head was resting on Danny's shoulder, sinking into the comfort he was offering. It was nice not having to be the one in control for a while. To be the one who was protected instead of the one who'd been protecting everybody else.

Danny wrapped both arms around him, wishing he could take in at least part of his pain. His mind flashed back to the day when he had almost lost him for good, when he'd urged him to hold on so he could get him the help he needed, whispering words of reassurance as he prayed that a miracle would save them both.

"I still owe you a proper thank you," Steve said as if he'd read his mind, still wrapped in his best friend's arms.

"Good. I could use one."

"Lou told me what you did that day. After you landed the plane."

He had listened to the emergency call. One lonely afternoon, months after the accident, he'd decided he wanted— no, needed to know what had happened after he'd passed out, the last coherent thought on his lips the knowledge that he would not make it to land.

He had heard Danny's frantic voice as he revealed his true identity to HIC and requested immediate assistance, the way he'd managed to juggle gages and levers he knew nothing about on a plane he had no idea how to fly. But most of all, he'd heard control ask him to ditch and put the plane into the water, and his partner stubbornly refusing to even consider it.

Because of him.

Danny had jeopardized his future, his own chance at survival, to try and get him to safety. Had held his own, even as his voice trembled with fear. Ignored logic when everyone around him advised him not to. As his blood pooled on the floor of the aircraft, Danny had urged him to hold on, to live, because he wasn't going to quit and neither should Steve.

Add to that all he'd learned from Lou, the fact that he had given him half his liver, and Steve knew he would never be able to repay him.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Danny rubbed his palm against the back of his neck and closed his eyes, his mood darkening again.

"You would've done the same thing,"

Steve nodded. He had seen it in his own eyes, the determination to avenge a loved one's death. And he'd felt it in his heart, the despair and emptiness the night Danny got shot. He knew he would've done the same.

He pulled himself to his feet, balancing against his friend's shoulder for support.

Danny shrugged to let him know that thanks weren't necessary and got up as well. "Did you post bail?"

"Not yet."

He shook his head, but his lips betrayed a playful smile. "It's been four hours, buddy. She's gonna be pissed."

Steve ran a hand through his hair. "Damn." Pissed? She was probably going to rip him a new one. "Danny, I..."

"Go. I'll talk to you later."

He hesitated just a heartbeat, turning his gaze back to his father's headstone.

Goodbye, Dad.

I love you.

TBC