Steve looks at himself in the mirror. He's pale, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep even though sleep is really all he wants. When Danny showed up, he'd been starting to gear himself up to pull himself together in time for work the next morning. Supposing time's run out on that, he pulls out the razor, starts to make himself look presentable, to put on the mask that will show the world he's fine.
All he had before the transplant were his jobs and quite frankly, he didn't think that was enough. Clearly, that was all he deserved, all he was capable of having. It was hard to want something more, but know you didn't deserve it, couldn't have it, weren't capable of holding on to it even if you caught a glimpse of it.
That nothing you could ever do would be enough. That every time you did what was expected of you, it blew up in your face. Why bother trying?
With Catherine, he'd tried to do what he thought was expected, but she'd left him because he wasn't good enough, wasn't what she needed. He joined the Navy, joined the Teams, to make his father proud. It directly led to his father's death. He'd gotten Freddie killed and there were more of his men that he'd lost. Yeah, it was the job they'd all sighed up for, but they'd been his men. He was still responsible. And then there was everything his 5-0 team... Danny... has been through since he'd recruited them.
He just wants to stop hurting the people he loves.
But he can't deny that he's helped people. Except he barely even has that anymore. Now he's lost the Navy and can barely keep up at 5-0. He has to push himself harder to get the job done. To keep Danny safe.
By the time Danny comes into the bedroom carrying a tray with a couple of cups of coffee, a bottle of water and his meds, and a plate of food, Steve's in his usual cargoes and tee, picking up the mess he'd allowed to accumulate. As he dumps an armload of laundry into the hamper, he sees Danny raise an eyebrow and swipe another pile of dirty clothes from the dresser to set the tray down in their place.
They just look at each other for minute until Danny's eyebrow raises even higher and he nods slightly in the direction of the tray, as if to say 'Take your meds.'
Steve sighs and walks over, gathers all the little pills Danny put on the tray and shoves them into his mouth. He's already starting to swallow them dry as he breaks the seal on the water and takes a drink. He raises his own eyebrows – 'happy now, Daniel?' – and Danny nods – 'yes, thank you, Steven'.
The silence gets to be too much for him. Steve picks up a cracker, breaks it in two, puts both halves back on the plate, wipes imaginary crumbs off onto his pants. Trying to fill the space, but not wanting to open his mouth because he's tired, so fucking tired, and this is Danny and he doesn't trust what will come out of it if he does.
"I'm sorry," Danny finally says. Steve frowns at him in confusion. "I had a little revelation over apples. I am so sorry for how I made you feel after you got me back from Colombia. I didn't realize how that made you feel. But now I know. And it's horrible and I don't like it, Steven."
Steve's frown deepens, he shakes his head. "Danny, I don't—"
"But things are better now, you know? I mean, I've got a son now. I may have missed most of his firsts, but I'm here now, right? And if you hadn't done what you did, I never would have known about him. He wouldn't know about me. He could be... he could be dead."
Steve closes his eyes for a moment, remembers the look on Gracie's face when he promised to bring her Danno home. Neither of them had believed his words. It hadn't occurred to him until now that if he'd failed, not only would Gracie have grown up without her Danno, little Charlie might not have grown up at all. He turns away from Danny, takes a few steps toward the unmade bed. He hears Danny follow, stepping on the creaky floor board.
"I hate that I didn't do anything to save Matty. But you were right, he made his own choices. But I was still consumed with so much guilt that I... But you –" He grabs onto Steve's arm like he's the only piece of debris in the ocean of his despair, turns him to face him. "You were the only thing that brought me back from that. And you... after all that, you think I could have just continued on with my life if you died because I didn't do something as simple give you part of my liver?" It's Danny's turn to try and close his eyes against the memories. Steve knows that just makes them worse. He opens them again and they're watering.
"I didn't think giving it to you would end us, but I guess it did. That thought just didn't even enter my mind. All I thought about was that you needed a liver and I had one to give you. I love you, jackass. I would give you anything. And guess what? Even if I'd known that this is how it would go – that we'd be over – I still would still have done this because Grace needs her favourite Uncle around and dammit, Steve, she's lost one of those already. Charlie needs you, even if he doesn't know it yet. Babe, I need you. I need you to be in the world, even if you hate me."
Danny's grip loosens. He runs his hand up and down Steve's arm, then grasps his neck. Steve is still silent, looking anywhere but Danny's eyes.
"Didn't you ever think that every time the words 'take care of my liver' came out of my mouth, I was saying 'take care of my friend'? Because, I've been saying that for six years and it hasn't worked yet. I thought I needed a different tactic."
This is all too much. Steve had wanted to be needed, but he's starting to drown under the weight of Danny's need. Like maybe he's too tired to take what he'd wanted all this time. Be careful what you wish for? He tries to push the weight off.
"My family never needed me. The Navy doesn't need me. The Governor wishes she didn't need me but she does. This is all I've got left. So I'll do whatever I can to protect the island until I die. That's my job."
That iron grip is back, as if Danny could brand his words into Steve's skin, as if that would make Steve listen.
"No, Steven, that is not your job. Your job is to protect the people of this great island and then also go home every night to your family. This family that YOU made – your Ohana. Then you get up and do it all again the next morning and the next and the next until one day you're 65 and you're too old and achy to do the job anymore and you retire. And then you sit on your beach and reminisce about the good old days and tell war stories that you've exaggerated until they couldn't possibly be true anymore and bitch about kids these days and how they have it too easy. That is your job. And maybe, maybe, if you have forgiven me by then, if you let me, I'll be sitting in my chair next to you."
The thought frightens him. Too old to do the job. Fuck if he isn't starting to feel that way already. But when it actually happens? When he doesn't even have his job anymore?
"No, Danny. That's your job, and I'm going to make sure you get all of that. That you can live to see Gracie and Charlie grow up. That you can be happy surrounded by your kids and your grandkids. I'll fight for your dream with my dying breath, Danny."
Danny lets him go, pushes him a little as he does. Steve stumbles a bit and ends up sitting on the bed.
"You make me happy, you fucking idiot! And guess what, asshole. You've got a few other big problems with your plan. First, I don't need your protection, Steven, I just need you to have my back. I'm pretty sure you chose me for your task force because I was actually capable at my job. I'm not a damsel in distress. But, for the sake of this argument, let's just say I am. You think you can protect me when you finally go too far and get yourself killed? You think our dangerous job is suddenly going to be a walk in the park when you're dead? Newsflash, dumbass, it's going to keep being insane and we'll be down a man and our heads won't be in the game because our friend just got himself killed. Not to mention that even if you never speak to me again, I will always have your back. You got that? I will never leave you. I will always follow you into the fire. So if you get yourself killed doing something stupid, I'm gonna be right behind you. Because you deserve to go home each night, too babe. You deserve to retire and have kids running all over your back yard. It's my job to make you believe that. Even if it kills me."
Steve stands again, trying to escape the growing panic that wells in him at the thought of Danny, dead... because of him? But it's true isn't it? Danny's always right fucking there. He's always had these confusing, conflicting thoughts... needing to protect Danny and Danny being better off without him. Since the transplant, those thoughts have cycled through his mind faster and now... now they are just like one thought... dannyneedsyouwouldbebetteroffwithoutyouheneedsyou...
He curls his hand into a fist, pulls back to hit something, anything, just to help stop the panic attack he feels coming on. His chest is rising and falling with the panic. He will not have one in front of Danny. Danny grabs his wrist before his fist can connect with the wall. He's saying something , but Steve can't hear him.
The fight has broken through his remaining walls and the ocean starts to flow in and swallow him. Even as he feels like he's drowning, InnerSteve scurries around, trying to pick up the pieces, but there's too much and he's too tired. He can't do it. Not without the help that he was never taught how to ask for. Or he can let the ocean sweep him away. He imagines that. Just like he did the other day. Fantasizes about being swept away, about the ocean taking his pain away, using him for whatever it needs. Danny's wrong. He'll see, he'll be better off without him.
But this time, there's something new in this vision. Danny's calling out to him and, one arm laden with a load of bricks, dives in after Steve, trying to save him. And the ocean takes him, too.
Steve sits back down. He feels Danny's hands on him, trying to soothe him. He hides his face in his hands. He can't let Danny see his tears. Hates anyone seeing how weak he is, but especially Danny. The tears don't listen to him, though, they start to flow anyway. And he's too busy trying to make them stop that he doesn't do anything when he feels Danny step between his legs. His friend wraps his arms around his head, pulls Steve into his body and just holds him, fingers running through his hair, lips pressing to the top of his head. He's silent and still, like he's trying not to spook him, as Steve wraps his arms around him too, clutching to the lifeline.
A/N: Sorry this took so long. This story in the trilogy takes more thought and I've been super busy. This story will be a trilogy within the trilogy, so one more chapter.
