I know when I started this story that I said it would just be two chapters. But the more I read through my second chapter, the less I liked it. So I've taken the story in a slightly different direction to what I had planned, and that means there'll be three chapters now. With all these plot bunnies running around, there might even be four!

For this chapter, though, Steve and Danny have some serious talking to do. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you to everyone who have reviewed this story for me. I really appreciate the encouragement.

Lessons Learned – Chapter Two

When Fates Intervene

Peace offerings came in many forms. Some were accepted with forgiveness, others flatly refused. As he strode to the waiting Camaro, Steve just hoped the small bag in his hand would rebuild the bridges that he'd so stupidly destroyed. If it didn't… no. Already watching for Danny's reaction, Steve told himself that wasn't an option.

Then again, Danny looked as tired as he did. He'd clearly had a lousy night too, fretting over yesterday's regrettable events. It was an oddly comforting sign. So was the fact that, despite that, and everything that had caused it, he'd still come to drive him to work. Add that to the curiosity with which he studied the bag in his hand, and… yeah, this looked promising.

"I… uh… brought breakfast," he explained, setting the bag onto the dashboard between them – encouraged enough by a quizzically raised eyebrow to push the bag a little bit further onto Danny's side.

Five seconds passed. Five became ten. Then, at last, the glare softened into the faintest hint of a grin. And while his reply still dripped with sarcasm, the smile on his face still fractionally widened.

"You think you can buy me with that?"

Risking a tentative grin in return, Steve grabbed this vital breakthrough with two very grateful hands

"Well, there's two, so you can… uh… have mine."

Both eyebrows went up now, followed by the most wonderful eye-roll that Steve had ever seen. More precious than any of that, though, was the hand that now slid into the bag, and the smile that accepted what it represented.

"You're such an idiot sometimes," Danny shot back through a mouthful of crumbling malasada – the stark truth beyond his words giving Steve the only chance he needed to quietly face it.

"Yeah, Danny, I know. And I'm sorry. I should have trusted your judgement yesterday, and…"

"…so why didn't you?" Danny cut in, completely serious too now as he turned to face him. "Steve, I've been a cop for nearly fifteen years! I'd like to think that, by now, I know what I'm doing!"

"Yeah, Danny, I know that too," Steve conceded through a resigned nod of agreement – still watching his friend as Danny checked for a break in traffic before slipping smoothly into it.

He was a lot calmer than he'd expected, but he could still sense the frustration beneath. Not just from yesterday either, but for all the other times when he'd ignored Danny's opinion. Those opinions, however loudly and extravagantly he made them, still counted. They came from years of experience. The same experience that he kept stupidly dismissing.

It was that same experience that had made him make Danny his partner. He needed that crucial knowledge to help balance his own. Despite its many parallels, police work was still worlds away from life in the military. It was a minefield of protocols and legalities. You needed an expert to guide you safely through it.

He had the best expert that he'd ever find, right here, and… yeah, from now on, he'd have the sense to trust him.

"But I'm not a cop, Danny. I might be head of this task force, but I'm not a cop," he said at last – meeting startled eyes with a slight smile, and the honesty that, he hoped, Danny could still recognize. "I'm a SEAL who's trying to learn how to be a cop, and… damn it, Danno, it isn't easy."

"No, it isn't," Danny agreed just as quietly, with more understanding than Steve knew he deserved. Or maybe he just recognized that, as he was a fish out of water when it came to Hawaii, Steve was just the same when it came to police work.

Yes, he'd made a mistake yesterday, but at least he was trying to apologize for it. However angry he'd been, Danny still respected him for that. So when he spoke again, it was softly and gently, without any of the resentment that Steve had expected.

"I know you're used to getting results, by whatever means, but… see, sometimes you can't do that! Yes, we've both been trained to catch the bad guys, but being a cop means dealing with victims too. People who are hurt, and scared, and too traumatized to tell you what they genuinely can't remember."

"Like Erica Harris," Steve offered, with the grateful smile of the newly enlightened.

"Like Erica Harris," Danny nodded, with the saintly patience of the constantly exasperated. When he retired from the force, Steve proudly reflected, he'd make one hell of a teacher. He certainly had this pupil's attention.

"You need to stop treating those victims like criminals, Steve, and learn to listen to them instead. Just as you need to learn when to leave them to heal."

A pause for the lesson to sink in, before Danny ended it, as only Danny Williams ever could.

"So stop being such a knuckleheaded Neanderthal, and let me teach you what you need to know to lead this team. Okay?"

He was smiling again now. So was Steve, as that bag of bridge-building breakfast was nudged towards him.

"Okay, rule one of being a cop. You gotta learn to eat like one."

Okay, he'd have to work it off tonight, with an extra long swim, but… hell, right now, he didn't care. Whatever it did to his cholesterol levels, he'd never get such a precious invitation as this.

Settling back into his seat, Steve took a hearty bite out of his malasada, and smiled in pure contentment. He was sharing breakfast with his partner, the sun was warm on his face, Danny was wearing his favourite tie, and all was now right in both of their worlds. Even with Bon Jovi assaulting his eardrums, it was a precious moment of recognition and reconciliation between them.

Sadly fate now ruined it, in a blur of actions and reactions that no other fates could control – screeching brakes, the sickening crash of impacting metal, and a curse of horrified disbelief.

"Son of a bitch!"