"I always thought the course of one's life was set in stone;
chiseled into rock, determining beginning and end.
I always thought that was definitive.
But I was wrong."

- Anonymous -

Steven J. McGarrett is at peace.

Not the kind of peace that results from non-combat; not the absence of needing to fight and survive he has experienced often enough during the many parts of his life when those aspects of who he is, who he wants to be, have been confined and rendered mute by the impersonal restrictions of a uniform.

This is a peace of mind.

It's been preceded by years and years of struggle, of grief, of finding people and then losing them again; preceded by tons of mixed-up emotions and feeling lost and being convinced that nobody would ever need him. Preceded by the conviction that he did, indeed, need to turn himself into an island of which he was the sole occupant. Preceded by a long, drawn-out period of utter and complete loneliness.

But that's over.

From the moment he had accepted the old Governor's offer of heading her task force, from the instant he ventured forth and added what at first seemed to be completely incompatible components to the team he was forging, from the very first beginning of creating that thing called 'ohana, he stopped feeling lonely. Could no longer be lonely while being immersed daily in the love of strong friendships and tons of snarkiness and plenty of laughter.

It's a good life.

Yet, sometimes ...

Sometimes when a dry, warm wind blows over the island, his mind will throw up vague memories of a hot, scorching heat searing skin; will render his eyes useless even on the brightest day and surround him with complete darkness, out of which two red-hot orbs will stare at him; judging him, measuring him.

And find him wanting.

Those moments will cause his breath to lock in his throat, his step to falter, his heart to stutter in his chest because they are always followed by a feeling, an emotion so sharp and deep and intense, washing over him, engulfing him that he fears it will drag him under and drown him.

It's the feeling of loss.

Yet, there's nothing in his mind to connect to that. He knows it's not his mother's death, knows it's not his father's death, either; knows for a fact that nothing he has ever lost before has caused this sense of agony, this feeling of having been carved out hollow from within, this sensation which sometimes courses through him. It makes him want to scream and rant, makes him want to run down the street pulling his hair, howling that he has lost something but he doesn't know what, and therefore can't find it again!

Those are the moments in which he despairs.

And then ...

Then there's Danny.

Danno.

His stir crazy partner with an accent that grates on his ears, with wildly flapping hands as they try to convey a point, with hair that should be stapled to his head because otherwise he will yank it out by the roots due to the fact that the sheer untamable floppiness of it drives him insane. Danny who always has his back, who's always there when he needs him to be, is always the one thing he can fall back on when he feels himself falter and almost miss a step.

His partner, his buddy; his friend.

There are moments when he looks at him, moments when his breath catches, moments when the sheer integrity and wholesomeness and beauty of this man with his blue, blue eyes bowls him over and causes him to frown because he wonders what he did to deserve his friendship. Makes him ponder the question of how he got to be so lucky to have this man's dedication, this man's complete and utter faith and trust.

Those are the moments he's confused.

And he will unconsciously reach out and take Danny's wrist because he wants to know, just know if Danny can feel it too; can feel the intensity of this thing which seems to sizzle between them. Grabs on just to feel connected and be allowed to feel and ask if he, if he ...

"Danny?"

But the moment he has opened his mouth, the question will disappear; will dissipate like smoke and leave him standing, foolishly staring at his partner. His partner who will turn and look back at him, look at him with a promise in his eyes, with his soul bared to the core, and reply with a voice that neither grates nor annoys but is as gentle as can be.

"Yes Steve?"

And he will frown, angry at himself for not being able to remember, and watch as emotions, both dark and delighted, simultaneously happy and sad will rush over his partner's face, and he wants to drown in those eyes because he knows he will save him and bear him up, but he doesn't know why; and the moment will pass, will disappear, and he will be left confused; frowning even more.

"It's ... never mind. It's nothing."

Then Danny's face will do this thing, this crumbling thing as it folds in onto itself and becomes dark and forelorn and sad, and Steve will turn around, unable to watch this darkness come over his friend, unable to see the grief which sits on that face so naked and bare for all to see. He will turn around because he doesn't know how to apologize for the question he's forgotten to formulate and ask.

The thing is: Danny understands.

Or at least Steve thinks he does, because as he turns around his hand is grasped, envolded into the warmth of that of his partner, and it's patted as if Danny wants to convey to him that all will be well; wants him to know that it's OK that he doesn't remember the question, because he's convinced it will come to him, eventually. And goes and actually tells him so.

"It's OK, Steve. I'm sure it will come to you."

The words will cause him to turn around again and look into those eyes, eyes which are bluer than any ocean he has ever seen, and he will feel uncertainty course through him. He will feel shaken by something which he cannot name, feel rattled by this unknown something which aches but also holds the promise of something incredibly good, and beautiful. And then this beautiful man, this person who he holds so dear and who means so much more than anything else in the world, will smile.

"Don't worry, it will be alright."

And those words, spoken with quiet strength and utter and complete conviction will cause something to break loose in his chest, will enable him to breathe again, and he will nod and turn and walk away, his heart feeling light with the knowledge that Danny is right, that they will be alright.

It's going to be OK.

Then, one day, Steve remembers.

Remembers the question before it slips from his mind and disappears, like it has done so many times before now. Remembers the words and wonderingly turns them over and over in his mind, feeling them, tasting them, stunned by the sheer simplicity and beauty of them. And he knows this is the single most important question he will ever dare utter. So he asks.

"Danno ... do you love me?"

After a single heart beat, a heart beat which Steve can hear and feel slowly thundering through his chest as if it was drawn out in slow motion before it seems to come to a complete stop, those gorgeous blue eyes fill with tears; tears not shed out of sadness but stemming from the purest joy. Joy which spreads out over the face watching him and sets it alight, shining like the most beautiful sunrise. And Danny smiles.

"Yeah, babe, I do. I do love you!"

And Steve's heart starts up again, and his chest fills with the most unbelievable emotion, fills with complete and all-encompassing love, and he smiles back. Smiles because he has managed to remember; smiles because his life has only really started just now. Smiles because he knows there are beautiful things ahead.

Because they have time.