"I tried selling my soul, but the Devil wouldn't take it.
It was too damaged."
- Anonymous -
*NOTE* The view of suicide being a 'selfish and weak escape' is Steve's and not my own.
What Steve never expected to happen, happens.
He can still feel his finger cramping around the trigger, still hear the deafening sound of the discharge, almost simultaneously followed by the bullet carving a path through his brain, when he actually opens his eyes! At least, he thinks they're open; it feels like they're open.
A dark, dark void surrounds him.
There are no sounds, no images; there's not even the hint of the slightest sliver of light. All there seems to be is this darkness enveloping him, undulating around him like it's some living, breathing entity. Pressing down against his whole body, confining him like some type of strait jacket; smothering him as if he's burried underneath half the world.
It scares the shit out of him!
Forcing himself to take deep, slow breaths - and he distantly wonders how that's even possible - he turns around on his axis, making a perfect circle. Everywhere he looks is the same. His eyes cannot make out any details, his ears cannot pick up any sound.
There's just ... nothing.
Suddenly, a sound does reach him; a sound made by a voice, a very familiar voice, drifting towards him across what seems to be a vast distance, sounding as if it has to travel worlds, travel through space itself while fighting the darkness to reach him. It's a moan, and a chill wracks his body at the sheer desperation, the utter agony it contains.
"Danny," he whispers.
The darkness begins to part like a rip in a curtain, and through it comes light, comes sound, come hazy images. He tries to move towards the rift, but his feet refuse to obey, like they're nailed down to the ground. Helpless, he watches as the images solidify into his own bedroom; shudders as he sees his body, himself, slumped over against the head board of his bed.
Takes in the blood and gore and gags!
Hoe could he have done this?! How could he have left his colleagues, his friends to deal with the aftermath of what he now sees as a stupid, callous, selfish and weak escape from his grief? He feels something like phantom tears start coursing down his face as he realizes the finality of his actions, and suddenly Danny - his body emiting a strange glow and almost see-through - pops up from somewhere in his peripheral view and climbs on the bed next to him.
Steve freezes as he watches something akin to surprise and then horror flit over Danny's face as he reaches out and touches the head of the body on the bed; touches his head. There's a strange, tingling sensation at the top of his skull and, dazed, he reaches up with his fingers, almost expecting to find Danny's hand there. When Danny starts sobbing and stroking a gentle hand along the features of his body double on the bed, the gestures resulting in his skin feeling like it's on fire, he feels something tear within himself; bends his head down and shakes it in desparation.
This is so wrong!
His eyes are pulled back to the scene visible within the rift in the darkness, drawn back to the place where he died when he hears Danny start speaking, start moaning out words which are filled with grief and pain.
"Steve, no ... Steve!"
Danny tries lifting his hand, then recoils in horror as it falls back into a pool of blood with a wet smack. Steve again tries to move forward, tries his utmost to tear himself from that dark void and throw himself into the bedroom, throw himself around Danny in a desperate bid to wrap his arms around him and comfort him.
Nothing.
"God, no. Why? Steve, why?!" Danny moans again through his sobs, and Steve now knows for certain, feels the absolute truth of it course through his body and settle deep within his soul; Danny had never wanted him to go this way, had never ever expected Steve to simply throw his own life away and commit this devastatingly final act.
Had never wanted Steve to follow him in death.
His vision has grown hazy again, this time by the tears of sorrow and guilt streaming down his face. He somehow knows his whispers of 'Sorry Danno; so, so sorry!' will not reach the man he sees, but he utters them anyway. Apologizes with every fibre in his being, every ounce of his soul despite not being heard.
The last thing he sees and hears is Danny curling himself around his dead body, wailing out his agony.
Then the rift closes and everything is dark again.
Time is an unmeasurable thing when you hear nothing, see nothing; when there's only infinite darkness surrounding you. Steve has no idea how long he stands there, still rooted to the spot, still unable to move either forward or backward. Not that he'd know where to move to.
His mind at first is filled with the scenes he saw through that rip in the darkness, filled with thoughts of Danny; filled with unceasing apologies to the man he loves. His whispered words of 'Sorry, so sorry!' bounce back to him off the thick, black nothingness surrounding him, and in the end, he stops.
At one point - and he doesn't know if hours, or days, or even weeks or months have passed by now - he suddenly hears Danny's voice again. And this time, too, it seems to come to him from across a vast distance. However, unlike the previous time, the darkness does not part. There are no scenes, no images accompanying the words. Straining, he tries to decipher what Danny says, and in the end concludes there are no words; it's just one, single, repetitious, pleading utterance.
"Anything."
After that, the silence returns, the darkness becomes absolute again, and Steve wonders how much more he can take before going utterly, stark raving mad. How much longer he will be submitted to having all his senses deprived; how long he will be able to withstand the experience of nothing and everything being confined within his own body.
Until the darkness doesn't part but suddenly shreds, instantly disappears like a hood lifted from his head, and sensations like sound and light and images wash over him like the waters of a strong, deadly current.
He stands, frozen, his body numb from this sudden attack on his senses.
When he dares to peek between his lashes, eyes so accustomed to the dark that even the slightest speck of light feels like somebody is burning his retinas with a laser, he makes out a figure standing in front of him.
"Steven J. McGarrett."
The voice does crazy things to his body, to his ears, to his soul; it simultaneously comforts and drives him insane, full of both gentle promises and deadly threats. It sounds as if its owner is about to lead him to a peaceful place where he will then be torn to bits and left to die. Again.
"What ... what are you? What do you want from me?!" He lets his gaze drift further up until his eyes meet those of the figure, then freezes; it's like looking into Hell itself, like staring into twin pits of swirling fire and smoke. The figure contemplates the man standing in front of it, then sighs.
"From you, McGarrett? I want nothing from you."
Steve frowns, letting his eyes drop down again. He's not well versed in the supernatural, in the Hereafter; but having spent a large part of his life on Oahu, he knows Hawaiian lore is filled with bits of mythology and tales of ancestors and evil creatures vying for a person's soul, brokering deals to either get a piece or all of it and drag it down into the Pit of Fire. And he's just knows that is what's happening now. The figure sighs again.
"You're wrong."
Unable to resist, Steve's eyes snap up to those red, red orbs filled with the promise of agony and pain and eternal fire. And filled with something which looks like a combination of amusement and regret. When the figure opens its mouth again to speak, two rows of razor sharp teeth can be seen, and Steve shudders.
"There's nothing you can offer, McGarrett. We have no use for the soul of somebody who has managed to already torture himself so exquisitely during his time on earth."
The voice seems to acquire a resigned and almost sad note when it continues.
"You just have nothing left to give. Sad, really."
The figure - the Devil? a demon? - continues to stare at him, red orbs unblinking; it's obviously measuring him and finds him wanting, finds him lacking in whatever it is he seeks in the man standing in front of him. Steve shudders, wondering what he's doing here if he has nothing to offer. Wonders if he will spend the rest of Eternity standing here, his mind filled with thoughts and doubts and regret and apologies. Wonders if this is his punishment for taking his own life.
The demon - because Steve is now certain that's what it is - can apparently read his thoughts.
"Again, you're wrong." It cocks its head. "You're, let's say, parked here while one of my colleagues is busy brokering a deal. Busy finalizing an agreement with somebody who has more, much more to offer us than you."
A gleeful look appears on the demon's face, a look of contentment and happiness as it turns its head as if it's listening, hearing something which Steve is no part of. And suddenly he knows, just knows who the demon is talking about; feels an icy coldness suffuse him as he realizes the demon is talking about Danny!
"No! No no no no! You can't do that! That's not fair! He's suffered enough already! There must be something I can offer, something I..."
A clawed hand is raised, and Steve's breath is locked within his throat; he's suddenly choking, feeling his lungs becoming tight within his chest, unable to draw in whatever passes for air within this realm. The demon snickers.
"Too late, McGarrett. The deal has been struck. Your - what is it you call him? ah yes. - your Danno has just decided on the fate of both your souls. Pity, really."
The demon motions, and Steve finds himself being pulled forward, close enough to the creature to feel its unnatural heat blazing, feels it searing against his skin. Its voice, when it comes, moves over him like a hot desert wind, withering away anything that dares to be alive, turning all living things to dust and bringing death.
"I think I would have been able to strike a much better deal and drag the soul of your Danno down with me to scream and rage and howl for all Eternity!" It sighs again. "However, it is as it is, and this will have to do I guess." Cocking its head, it gives Steve a last, nearly longing stare. "So this is goodbye, McGarrett. Who knows ... maybe we'll meet again."
And with a flick of its hand, the demon sends Steve careening backwards.
He feels his bones constricting, feels an unnatural pressure just crunch his body until he's certain there will be nothing left as he tumbles over and over through the vast expanse of the darkness, accompanied by the mad laughter of the demon as it watches him disappear.
As his throat finally unlocks, Steve screams.