A/N: First of all, I forgot to add the spoiler warning in the first chapter. So, warning, (unsurprisingly) there will be spoilers for pretty much everything leading up to and including episode 2.20. This chapter specifically mentions events from 2.10 and 2.16.
Second of all, this chapter is a little longer than the previous two. I had it originally split up in two parts but the first was rather short and there was not a lot happening so I decided to merge the two chapters. I hope you'll enjoy this part of the story (and that you don't get bored and fall asleep half way through it).
And, last but not least, thank you for reading the last chapter (and for giving this one a shot)! Again, I'm very grateful to those who took the time to write a review! It means a lot to read your thoughts on the story and I'm glad to that you seem to be enjoying it so far. Thank you!
Chapter 3
Danny stood hunched over the smart table when Steve walked into HQ about an hour later. Back at the docks, he had successfully managed to delegate the task of getting his partner somewhere within walking distance of a shower to the two rookies who had already helped pull him out of the water. All it had taken was the promise to put in a good word with Duke for them. And Steve himself had been too busy with his clogged up ear to really care.
"Well, look at you. You showered," Danny grinned as he stood up straighter.
Steve just frowned a little. "You hear anything from Chin?" He walked up to the smart table and stood next to Danny, peering down to see what he was working on.
Now it was Danny's turn to frown. He leaned in over to Steve a little and then sniffed in some air near his shoulder a couple times. "Navy shower or real shower?" he asked suspiciously, even though he knew the answer. The little detour Steve had taken into the water warranted more than just a real shower. A long bath with some nice smelling bath-oils was in order to get rid of the incessant stench of diesel fuel and dead fish. But given the ongoing investigation and its Denning-inflicted urgency, Danny figured he should be happy that his partner had taken the time to shower at all.
"What?"
"Never mind," Danny said with a dismissive wave of his hand and moved a little to the left, away from Steve and the lingering smell. "Chin checked in a few minutes ago, it's all quite, but–"
"Sorry, what?"
Danny frowned again. "I said, no news from Chin," he repeated, louder this time. "Are you okay?"
Steve just nodded. "Anything from Kono?" He asked, squinting down at the display on the table.
"She's still at the lab."
"Huh?" Steve's hand absently moved to his ear as he started working his jaw.
"Kono. Lab," Danny all but yelled. "Is your ear still blocked?"
"It's just water or something. What do you got on the kid?"
"Do I need to take you to some kind of specialist or something?" Danny asked and then clamped his mouth shut. Because, yeah, there was a pretty obvious joke about his partner's questionable sanity to be made here, but given Steve's impaired hearing it would probably fall flat anyway.
"It's fine. What do you got?"
Danny sighed. "Uhm, well, the kid's name is Travis Dyer," he started, speaking louder than usually to make sure Steve heard him. "Nineteen, high school dropout, still lives with his parents."
"He got a record?"
"About a mile long. Even spent some time in juvie a while back." Danny took another glance down at the screen. "Thirteen charges, most of which made it to trial. Seven convictions, but nothing ma–"
"Thirty arrests and only seven convictions?" Steve stared at him incredulously. "What, did this punk-ass pay off the whole bench?"
"Thirteen!" Danny repeated loudly, stabbing a finger a couple times at the table where the information was displayed. "You sure your ear is okay?"
"You're mumbling."
The nerve.
Steve swatted Danny's hand away to take a look at Travis' file himself. Danny huffed offended.
"Possession, possession, possession, a couple DUIs, shoplifting," Steve read out loud as he scanned the information.
"Yeah, nothing major," Danny concluded, clasping his hand together. "As I was gonna say before," he added, bouncing on his heels.
"Nothing like fifty kilos of Ice," Steve mumbled, drawing his own conclusion as if he hadn't even heard Danny. Well, he probably hadn't. "He say anything else yet?"
"No, HPD just brought him in two minutes ago. Because, as you very well know, they had to take him to the ER first to get checked out – because someone knows how to hit the solar plexus just a little bit too well." Danny pursed his lips and put his hands on his hips as he glared at Steve. Having suspects go to the ER always entailed more paperwork and was therefore not okay.
Steve just flashed Danny a cocky smile. "Alright, let's talk to this guy, see what he knows."
…
"I don't know nothing about no meth."
"Woah, woah, hold on." Danny spread his arms wide and shot Steve a quizzical look. "Help me out here, I lost my count. Were those enough negatives to put us back into the positives, or . . .?"
Steve acknowledged the comment with half an eye roll. He stood with his arms crossed right in front of Travis, who was sitting on the hard metal chair in the middle of the otherwise unfurnished, dark interrogation room.
"What did you want in that locker?" Steve asked, putting his hands on his hips as he bent down to get to eye-level with Travis. Danny figured the intimidating SEAL routine should work extra well today since his partner still reeked like a pile of dead rats.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Travis shrugged and stared into the far corner of the room
"Don't– don't play dumb with us," Danny groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a couple of steps back – Steve could deal with this dumbass. He seemed to enjoy that kind of stuff a lot more anyway.
"What's on the drive?"
"What drive?" Travis jerked up one shoulder again and – in spite of the pain the move must have cost him – slouched down further on the chair, making it look oddly comfortable in the process. Which, in itself, was infuriating enough. But it was the smugness of the idiot's grin – complete with two missing teeth and purple bruising on his jaw line that just screamed 'paperwork!' – that pushed Danny over the edge.
"What drive?" Throwing up both hands in frustration, Danny whirled around to shoot Steve another look. "He wants to know what drive. Just exactly what drive are you talking about, Steven?"
Steve, eyebrows creased in confusion, opened his mouth to say something, but Danny didn't give him the chance to get a word in. (It's called a rhetorical question, moron.)
"I'm gonna tell you what drive he's talking about. He's talking about the drive you dumped into the harbor, you dipshit! Which, by the way, is the reason why he–" Danny waved an arm in Steve's direction, "–does not just smell like he lives in a pet crematory. No, you–" Danny stabbed an index finger into Travis' breastbone, eliciting a pain filled hiss due to the bruised ribs "–also made him half deaf. And you made him punch you. And all–" stab, "–those–" stab, "–things–"
"Ow!"
"–make my job just that much more unpleasant than it is thanks to jerk-offs like you anyway. Now, would you please, please tell us what you know or I swear to god, I'll have him punch you again."
…
"Is there something you wanna tell me, Danno?" Steve asked as he caught up with Danny on their way back from the interrogation room to their offices.
"I hate this case," Danny ground out and then stopped abruptly. "I hate that kid." He pointed a finger down the hall to the room where they had left Travis. "And, for the love of god, get that ear checked out!"
"Danny–"
"Don't say that it's fine. I will beat you dead with a shovel."
"Danny–"
"What if something were to lay eggs in there, huh? What if those things are hatching right now and—" Danny stopped. So, yeah, okay, he was not making sense right now, but he was trying to make a point here. "–and eat what little brain you have," he finished, tiredly.
Steve frowned. "You have seen Enemy Mine one too many times, man."
Danny just nodded and forced a sarcastic smile on his lips. He then turned around to head to his office but a hand on his shoulder stopped him short.
"Hey, what's wrong, Danno?" Steve looked at him, his expression serious, eyes filled with concern. "Is there something going on with Grace, or Gabby?"
"What?" The question perplexed him. Danny shook his head and sighed again. "No, no they– they're fine. Of course, Grace was not exactly thrilled that our weekend got cut short by four million bucks in crystal meth, but, you know, she's knows how it is. It's not like it was the first time a case messed up our plans, so . . ."
"Danny, man, I'm really sorry," Steve said, looking at him with sincere regret in his eyes. But there was more. Guilt.
Fuck. Danny wanted beat himself dead with a shovel for that one.
"Maybe if you give Rachel a call–"
"Hey, don't worry about it, okay." Danny put a hand on Steve's arm and gave it a light squeeze to underline the okay-ness of the whole situation. Even though the 'situation' was far from okay. The Grace part kind of was. In comparison, anyway. It was Steve who made him furious. Or rather Steve's twisted sense of responsibility. Or Denning, who was putting too much pressure on him and thus made Steve act the way he did in the first place. It was all kind of confusing, figuring out which part of this mess really was the source of his anger. Maybe he should just focus on Denning and his high as the sky expectations. 'Pressure makes diamonds', they say. But sometimes, pressure turned former Navy SEALs into loose cannons that took unnecessary risks and did stupid things.
Like jumping off of rooftops.
Steve's voice flashed through Danny's head –
"Dennis, listen– Listen to me! Hey, hey! No, no! No!"
– followed by the image of him jumping off the roof of a fourteen-story building – just because their suicidal suspect had.
And today he hadn't even tried to save someone's life. It had just been a hard drive. A fucking, potentially very useless hard drive.
"Then what is it?"
Steve's voice startled Danny out of the too recent memory.
"What is what?"
"Why are you so angry?"
Danny opened his mouth to tell him – again – that he was angry because he was an angry person per se, when Steve added, "Angrier than usually."
Danny held Steve's still concerned gaze for a moment before he let his eyes drop to the floor and heaved a sigh. "It's just . . . you."
"What did I do?"
"Nothing," Danny said quickly, looking back up to Steve who now just stared at him confused. "You– you didn't do anything." Aside from jumping off of yet another roof. And punching Travis Dyer in the face. But after questioning the guy, Danny felt like Steve had been too easy on the kid.
"Then what, Danny?" There was a note of frustration in Steve's voice now.
"It's just– You shouldn't let Denning get to you like that."
"What?"
That was it. He was gonna drag Steve to an ENT specialist right now. "I said, you shouldn't let Denning get to you like that," Danny repeated loudly.
"And why is that, Detective?" a deep and eerily calm voice asked from behind his back.
Shit. Danny froze, balling his hands to fists. He glared up at Steve for not giving him the heads up, and then slowly turned around to face the man standing behind him. "Governor," he said and swallowed hard, forcing a smile on his lips. "To what, uhm, do we owe the pleasure?"
Denning just narrowed his eyes at Danny and then looked up to Steve. "Your office. Now."
…
Danny looked up somewhat hopeful to the screen of his computer, but all that stared back at him was a blank and annoyingly white document. Great. He let his gaze drift down to the clock in the bottom corner and sighed. An entire minute had passed since he had checked the time. So he was getting better at this. Waiting. Patience.
It had only been five minutes since Denning had dragged Steve into his office, telling, not asking Danny not to follow them inside. Danny had protested, of course, because he knew that Steve was about to do something stupid, like not say anything and just let Denning verbally work out his frustration on him. Again. But an uncharacteristically soft and tired sounding 'Danno, please,' from Steve had managed to shut him right up. With his lips firmly pressed together, Danny had walked back to his own office – because he had a clear view of Steve's from there. He had then pulled up a new document to get started on his report, but so far, he hadn't gotten past the date.
Monday. Figures.
He looked over to Steve's office again, only to see what he had seen for the last almost-six minutes. Denning was pacing up and down in front of Steve's desk, arms folded across his chest. Danny couldn't quite understand what he was saying, but the occasional droning 'embarrassment' or 'incompetence' or something equally unjustified did reach his ears. The man usually had a firm grip on his temper, but today, Danny could see his control slipping.
Across from Denning, Steve stood behind his desk, hands on his hips, head hanging lowly, and gazing blankly at the floor. At first he had tried to get a word in a few times, to explain the situation to and to make him understand that they were doing everything they could. But Denning had cut him off every time, barking at Steve that he didn't want to hear any excuses loud enough for Danny to hear.
"Knock, knock."
Danny looked over to the door to his office. "Hey," he said and motioned for Kono to come in with a nod of his head.
"What's going on in there?" She jerked a thumb in the direction of Steve's office.
"It's the, uhm, live version of the long distance shellacking from this morning."
"Ah." Kono raised her eyebrows in understanding and sat down on the edge of Danny's desk. "Sucks to be the boss sometimes," she commented as she craned her neck to get a better view of what was going on inside Steve's office.
Danny found her staring a little intrusive (not that he hadn't been doing the same for the last really-close-to-six minutes, but that was something completely different. Steve was his partner after all, so he had a vested interest in knowing just how abysmal his mood would be in the near future.). He cleared his throat loudly and clapped his hands together in front of him to get Kono's attention. "You, uhm, get anything from Fong?"
"Huh?" she said absently, still staring into Steve's office.
"The drive, Kono."
"Oh." She looked down at Danny, not a hint of embarrassment on her face for the inappropriate curiosity. "Well, it'll take a few hours but Charlie said he might be able to reconstruct some of the data."
"That's . . . fantastic," Danny sighed.
"Did the kid give you a clue as to what's on the thing?"
"Not really."
Kono frowned at the vague answer. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"The drive isn't his. He stole it. Or as he put it, he 'looted' it."
"Looted it, as in . . ."
"Took it from a dead man." Danny sighed again and raked a hand through his hair. "According to him, he was 'hanging out' by the parking deck at the Ala Moana Center late last night when he noticed 'some dudes in suits' – his words, not mine, I swear." Kono opened her mouth to say something, but Danny continued before she could get a word in. "And yes, it rhymes and, no, I'm not making this up."
"Riiiight," Kono drawled. Danny ignored her. Mostly.
"He said he heard those guys arguing on the level above him."
"Shady," Kono commented, quirking an eyebrow.
"Yeah." Danny frowned irritably at the repeated interruption. "That's supposedly when he overheard them talking about the storage unit and the drugs. Anyway, next thing he knows, one of the guys drops down right in front of him with a bullet hole in his chest. Then Dyer, ever the opportunist, grabbed the dead guy's suitcase – which, coincidentally, dropped right at his feet too – and ran."
"And instead of millions in cash or a key to the unit there was just the hard drive in the suitcase," Kono concluded. The smile tugging at her lips told Danny that she didn't exactly buy Travis' story either. "Supposedly."
"Yeah. And he says that when he saw us at the storage unit, he thought the suit people had sent us and that's why he ran and dunked the drive."
"That's ridiculous."
Danny just shrugged. "You know, he seems too stupid to make something like this up."
Sighing, Kono shook her head. "You want me to head over to Ala Moana to check for blood or anything?"
"Already sent a couple units to check it out." Danny smiled up at her. "Sorry, you gonna have to do your shopping on your own time."
"Damn," Kono growled in mock disappointment. "You guys hear anything from Chin?"
"Nope. It's all quiet."
"It's not like we expected anyone to show up in bright daylight anyway."
"No one with a brain."
"Right."
Boom.
Danny's head snapped up to Steve's office again. His partner still stood there, in the same spot he had been standing for the past six minutes (and two seconds), but now he was tiredly rubbing a hand over his face. The glass door slowly swung back open, still humming with vibration from the force with which Denning had just slammed it shut.
Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw the Governor leave HQ.
Good.
He exchanged a look with Kono. She was biting down hard on her bottom lip, her face scrunched up in sympathy. "Wow. I've never seen Denning that pissed."
"Perks of being the rookie," Danny muttered, looking over to Steve again. He looked about ready to punch something. This was not gonna be pretty. "You only get to deal with our oh-so-benevolent dictator."
Steve suddenly looked up and over to Danny's office – catching both of them staring at him. The expression on his face darkened in annoyance before he waved a hand at them, motioning for them to come over to his office.
Danny exchanged another look with Kono. She just shrugged her shoulders, hopped off his desk and headed for the door. Danny trailed a few feet behind her, not sure what to expect.
He hated this. Denning, drugs, elections, the media – Steve. Everything. Sucking in a deep breath, Danny reminded himself that it was Monday. Everything was gonna be okay by tomorrow.
By the time he entered his partner's office, Steve had dropped into the chair behind his desk. He sat bent forward, head hanging, elbows propped up on his thighs with his hands clasped tightly in front of him. He looked tired.
"That was . . . colorful," Danny said and waved an arm in the direction in which Denning had just left.
Steve gave the smallest jerk of his head to acknowledge the comment. He then pulled himself up straight and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as if the movement had cost him a substantial amount of what little energy he had left.
Danny shot yet another glance over to Kono. She just stood there, arms crossed in front of her chest and sucking at her bottom lip, looking uncharacteristically helpless.
"We're off the case," Steve suddenly said, opening his heavy-lidded eyes again.
"What? Why?" Kono threw up her hands, looking confused and angry. She came in second, right after their fearless leader, when came to taking things like this too personal.
Danny didn't do that anymore – hadn't for a long while. He had been in law enforcement long enough to come to accept the politics that came with the job. Sure, he wanted to get those dealers, too, but not at any cost. Not like this. If Denning felt like there was someone else to handle the job better, please, by all means. Those fifty kilos of Ice were barely a blip on the State's crime radar after all. Hardly worth losing any sleep over.
But for a control freak with an exaggerated sense of responsibility like Steve, this had to be torture. Who knew what sort of unrealistic expectations those Navy people had drilled into his thick skull – about seeing a job through and the unacceptability of failure. He was bound to take shit like this personal.
"The DEA is going to handle the case now," Steve said and sighed.
"Why?" Kono asked again, planting her hands on her hips.
"Because it's their jurisdiction anyway," Danny said before Steve could explain the situation. His partner would only give her some self-deprecating version of the reality because his mission-focused brain was unable to comprehend what all this came down to in the end.
Politics.
Danny hated politics. And Kono needed someone to make her understand and hate politics, too. "Denning only wanted us on the case in the first place because he wanted a quick win on his resume. He took a risk with that because if we don't deliver, the media and god knows who else will tear him apart for taking the case from the feds. We're off the case because now, all he can do is damage control. Hand the case off to the feds and have his people put some twist on the story that makes him look like he did everything right. He's shifting responsibility, and blame, and he's shifting his frustration to the next person available." He gestured to Steve, "Politics, you know. It's–"
"A shifty business," Kono finished for him with a small smile.
"Exactly."
"But we've been on this case for, what, a little over twenty-four hours?" Kono frowned at her watch, probably noticing that it was closer to thirty-six by now. "Denning didn't think we could wrap up this one that fast. I mean, there was barely anything to go on."
"We're just too good at this," Danny said with a shrug.
Kono snorted out a laugh and plopped down on one of the armchairs in front of Steve's desk. "You're so full of it," she said shaking her head.
"I'm serious. We did some pretty decent work in the past. It raises unrealistic expectations." Dropping into the other chair next to Kono, Danny shot a pointed look in Steve's direction. To his surprise, the idiot was smiling at him lopsidedly. "What?"
"Nothing," Steve simply said, still smiling.
"I'm right and you know it."
"Aren't you always?" Kono said, failing to hide a teasing, dimply smile.
"Watch it," Danny warned her.
"So, what now?" Kono asked, looking over to Steve.
He heaved another sigh and pursed his lips. "Now you guys head home. Take the morning off tomorrow, too. It's been a long weekend."
"Seriously?" Kono asked, already rising from her chair.
"Yeah, go," Steve encouraged her, waving a hand toward the door of his office. "Paperwork can wait."
Kono nodded and turned to leave but stopped when she reached the door. "Hey, you want me to give Chin a call. He's still camped out in front of that storage unit."
"Nah, I'll take care of it." Steve jerked his head to the door. "Go catch some waves."
"Okay," Kono said with a grateful smile. "Hey boss?"
"Yeah?"
"Get some rest. You look like shit."
"Goodbye, Kono."
Danny waited until the door fell shut behind her before he turned to face Steve. He took a moment to study his partner's face and then shrugged. "She's right, you know. You do look like shit."
"Thanks, Danno."
"And you smell."
"Anything else?" Steve raised his eyebrows tiredly.
Danny huffed a small laugh and just shook his head. He wasn't one to beat a man when he was down. Not today anyway. "So . . . what are you gonna do?"
"Hm?" Steve frowned.
"You said 'you guys head home'. What are you gonna do?" Danny pursed his lips as he once again studied Steve face, this time looking for some kind of reaction. "Anything . . . stupid planned for the night?" Like jumping off of any more rooftops.
Steve sighed and glared at him. "If by stupid you mean a briefing with the DEA and FBI joint task force that's gonna handle the case now, then, yeah."
Right. He had thought of that. Feeling slightly embarrassed for the comment, Danny absently scratched his left eyebrow and shot Steve an apologetic look. "You want me to come with?"
"I got it."
"It's not a problem."
"I said I got it." Steve said harshly, his features hardening in annoyance.
"Easy tiger." Danny rose up both hands in front of himself. "I'm just . . . making sure."
"Right," Steve acknowledged, casting his eyes down to his hands in his lap. It was as close to an apology as Danny was gonna get from him.
Danny didn't want an apology though. After the days Steve's had, he was surprised that his partner had not yet punched a hole in the wall. He just wanted to make sure he got the rest he obviously needed and unwound all the pent up stress and pressure in a healthy fashion. And, as far as Danny knew, there was no better way to do just that than by watching his hometown hockey team wipe the ice with some other team and scream bloody murder at the ref for being a blind idiot. "I could grab a six-pack and come over to your place later? The Devils are playing the Hurricanes tonight. Maybe we'll catch the third period."
"Not tonight, Danny. I'm pretty beat."
He was a bit surprised by the admission, but decided not to make a comment about Super SEAL Steve McGarrett admitting to weakness and how the world must be ending. "I know the feeling," he said instead, sucking in a deep breath. Truth was, they'd probably both be out cold on Steve's couch before the players were even back on the ice.
"Go home, Danny," Steve said, looking more serious all of a sudden. "Call Gabby or– Or Rachel. Maybe she'll let you take Grace to dinner or something."
"Yeah, maybe," Danny said with a sigh and got up from his chair. "Hey, just for the record, none of this is – in any warped, twisted way, that I'm sure your messed up brain will come up with – your fault."
Steve didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The way the corner of his mouth twitched told Danny all he needed to know. Stupid self-deprecating moron.
"Hey, it's not, okay," Danny said firmly. "It's just . . . fucking politics, man."
Steve shook his head ever so slightly. He let his eyes drop to his lap again and then swallowed hard. "I told Denning we could handle it, convinced him to give the case to us instead of the feds. I promised him that we'd get it wrapped up fast."
Danny felt his brain go blank for a second.
"You cocky fucking son of a bitch, why the hell would you do that?"
"I thought–"
"What, crime stopper? What?" Danny yelled. He couldn't believe this.
"Why are you getting so worked up about this?"
"Because–" he started but didn't know how to explain this – and he only had to explain because he had been keeping his mouth shut all day. He should have known better. Nothing good ever came from keeping your mouth shut. He should have told Steve right away that he hated the way Denning was putting pressure on him, because then Steve could have told him, from the start, that . . . what, he enjoyed the pressure so much that he was piling it onto himself with a fucking backhoe?
Danny just didn't get it. The case had been a dead end from the start . . . why would Steve set himself up for failure like that? What was he trying to prove or accomplish?
But then again . . . Danny didn't get a lot of things about Steven J. McGarrett. Not anymore, anyway. Steve had changed ever since Joe White had come to Hawaii and this whole mess with Shelburne had started – then North Korea had happened and things had only gotten worse.
Big fucking surprise.
It had been the Vonakov case that had finally made Danny realize that something wasn't right. Steve had always been intense, crazy even. Always giving a hundred percent for the job, and then some. But he had always been aware of his own limitations, had always known just how far he could push himself without risking too much. But watching him jump off that building, watching him run in front of that car . . . lying on the ground, unconscious, blood pooling under his head. That hadn't looked like someone who knew how far he could go anymore.
And still, Danny had been telling himself that it had just been an accident. A random coincidence. That car – it must have come out of nowhere, maybe the driver had been speeding. Getting hit by that car had been beyond Steve's control – there had been no way to avoid it. An accident.
Right?
And on the roof the night before, when Steve had gone after Dennis Mack – he had only tried to save the guy's life. He had simply been trying to hold on to him, stop him from falling. Maybe he had known the small balcony was right beneath them and would break their fall.
Maybe.
But how could he have known? And if he had known, then why had he taken the risk in the first place?
There were too many questions. Questions that Danny had tried hard not to think about too much, afraid that he wouldn't like the answers.
Instead, he had been trying to convince himself that the pressure coming from Denning was a huge part of the problem, of what was . . . wrong. Denning had been the one pushing for quick results on the Vonakov case, but demanding they handled the investigation with the 'utmost' care and discretion at the same time.
Well, there was just no discrete way to arrest a Russian diplomat for raping one woman and murdering another.
Politics.
It was so easy to blame everything on politics – people like Denning and Shepkin who, at times, seemed more interested in trying not to step on each other's toes than in giving justice to a woman who had been through hell – and had then lost her sister.
But now, Danny suddenly found himself forced to see things differently – to face all those uncomfortable questions. Maybe Denning wasn't really the problem, wasn't really the reason why Steve had started taking all these unnecessary risks.
Maybe Steve was.
"Because? That's it? Can you, I don't know, try to do better than that? Elaborate, or something?" Steve stared at him, looking confused and lost.
But no, Danny couldn't do better than that. Not today, anyway. He needed to think first, ask himself all those uncomfortable questions and try to find some answers. "You know what, forget about it. It's fine. Sorry." He shrugged and turned around, walking away and hating himself for it.
"What, you're just gonna leave now?" Steve all but yelled from behind him.
Danny stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder. "Yeah," he said tiredly. "Yeah, I'm just gonna leave and let you drown in your self-inflicted self-pity . . . or whatever."
"Danno–"
"Don't 'Danno' me right now," he ground out, hitting the door-frame with his flat hand. He shouldn't be this pissed at Steve. This wasn't really his fault. How could it be? It was everybody's fault but his. The loss of his parents, all the secrets and lies, Wo Fat, Joe White, Shelburne. All of those things must have seriously messed him up somewhere along the way.
What if – maybe – in that bunker in North Korea, Wo Fat had knocked something loose inside of Steve. Something that couldn't be put back in its place. Something that someday would make Steve do something really stupid. Something that didn't just end with a chipped tooth and a few cracked ribs or a verbal beating from the boss.
It was a scary thought. But what terrified Danny the most was that this change, this shift from intense and crazy to something else, something dark and dangerous, might have happened without him even noticing.
Some friend he was.
Sighing, Danny drew in a deep breath and swallowed hard against the rising lump in his throat. "Get that ear checked out before you go deaf," he said, his voice sounding soft and unsteady, but he didn't care if Steve noticed.
Then he turned around again and left, feeling like a coward. But he just didn't know what to do.
- to be continued -