A/N #1: Thanks again for the response, guys. And to those of you I can't pm, thank you for your reviews now and going forward.

A/N #2: Also, it's worth noting that I started writing this story in September, finished it in December, and chose not to constantly revise it as S3 unfolded. Hope that's ok and if not, just think of this story as AU (whcih it kind of is anyway, since it happens in the future).

Chapter 3

The drive home from the hospital was non-eventful compared to the drive to get there.

There was no arguing. No name-calling. No belated revelations.

And no conversation.

There was just Steve, staring out the passenger side window, and Danny, driving steadily while stealing sideways glances whenever he thought he could get away with it.

It was one of the longest drives of Danny's life.

Sure, there had been other long drives- the one where he was one the phone with Grace's kidnapper sprang to mind along with the one to HPD after Rachel and Grace had been carjacked. And any drive where Steve was pursuing a suspect seemed to last for an eternity, especially when Danny was holding on for dear life and trying to keep his lunch down.

But for a supposedly normal, run of the mill drive with no impending peril or death, this one took the cake for misery and awkwardness.

Danny glanced over at Steve for what seemed like the millionth time. No change. Steve was still looking out the window with the same blank stare he'd had since they'd left the hospital.

And a blank stare meant a blank face which meant Danny had no idea what was going on in Steve's head.

Danny usually was happy not knowing what was going on in Steve's head because, simply put, Steve's head was a scary place to be. It was full of cockiness and explosions and a total lack of proper police procedure. It thought back-up was a suggestion and that shooting into a crowd was acceptable as long as nobody got hurt and the bad guys were caught in the end. And it also thought seaweed and protein smoothies were preferable to malasadas and coco puffs and that was one thought process Danny simply didn't want to understand.

But Steve's head was also scary because it was so full of emotional baggage that Danny's issues looked like a carry-on compared to the steamer trunk Steve carried around. After all, Danny's life had been pretty good overall. He had grown up feeling secure in a loving family. He'd been married and had a wonderful child. Sure, he had some issues stemming from Rachel and their divorce, not to mention the murder of his partner in New Jersey and the drowning of his childhood best friend, but they manifested in simple ways. He picked less than flattering ringtones for his ex-wife. He insisted on back-up. He avoided the ocean. Again, simple ways.

But Steve… Steve's life had pretty much sucked. His mom had been blown-up (well, supposedly blown-up) in a car-bomb when he was a teenager. His emotionally distant father abandoned both him and his sister by shipping them off the live with different relatives, resulting in them not seeing each other for years. Then, his dad got killed while he listened over the phone because Steve refused to let a fugitive go free. And finally, Mommy Dearest Doris showed up after nearly 20 years and wow, was she a piece of work. It was no wonder the man had issues.

And they manifested in ways that were anything but simple. Steve was afraid to let people get close for the fear he would lose them. He was afraid to settle down because the only time he had been settled, he was uprooted. He was afraid to commit so he held a fantastic woman at arm's length. And he was so afraid of losing control that he never put himself in a position where he would.

It was enough to keep a psychiatrist in business for years. But Steve didn't have a psychiatrist.

Instead, he had Danny.

Well, Danny and a lot of grenades, but mainly Danny.

In the beginning, it wasn't a job Danny wanted. Their differences in everything from personal experiences to world views made the position of Steve's partner and occasional confidant daunting to say the least. But it was one Danny readily accepted after he got past Steve's gruff manner and found that underneath, there actually was a person who cared, even if he didn't know how to show it.

And in the end, it was worth it. It took time and beer and more forays into Mother Nature than Danny would have liked, but he and Steve became more than partners; they also became friends.

Danny didn't have any illusions of grandeur- he didn't think he'd "saved" Steve or "completed" him or any other psychobabble nonsense you'd see on Oprah or in the movies. But he did like to think that after spending time with him, Steve had changed. He became more open; more trusting; more nice; and just more human all the way around.

And if Danny could be there to help Steve pick up the pieces once, he could do it again. At least that's what he told himself in the silence of the car.

But even he had to admit those initial differences paled in comparison to the one they were facing now.

Because Danny remembered the last 19 months of his life.

And Steve didn't.

And if Steve didn't get his memory back…

Well, Danny was afraid there weren't enough petroglyphs in Hawaii to make that better.

*H50*

Danny parked the Camaro in Steve's driveway and killed the ignition. Steve was still staring out the window, just like he'd been for the past 20 minutes.

Actually, when Danny thought about it, Steve had been in a funk even longer than that. He had been upset that morning when Dr. Fitzgerald told him his memory might not come back, but he hid it fairly well. He smiled. He talked. He submissively allowed the doctors to run their tests. Maybe that should have been Danny's first clue.

But he really didn't pick up on it then. Maybe he was so happy to have his partner back that he was in denial that anything could be wrong. Maybe Steve was in denial himself. Or maybe Steve had become really good at hiding his emotions over the past 19 months. Who knew? All that mattered was Danny missed it.

But then the neurosurgeon sat down them down in a conference room with the CT scan results and told them that Dr. Fitzgerald had been right; Steve's memory might be gone for good. And Danny saw a shift in Steve.

He still smiled; still hugged Chin and Kono; still thanked them for waiting all day and told them he'd see them in the morning. But once they got to the car, Steve stopped talking. And the only word Danny could think of to describe Steve's mood now was depressed. Flat out depressed. Not that Danny blamed him— he was a bit depressed, too.

But still, the silence… it was hard to take.

Danny tried to hold it in but he simply couldn't anymore. He sighed.

"Are you ready to go in?" he asked.

Steve didn't move. Didn't reply. Just stared.

Danny almost thought Steve hadn't heard him but then Steve spoke.

"Someone's been living here." It was statement more than a question.

"Yeah." Danny nodded. "Your sister. She comes over once or twice a month when she's working flights from the mainland. She didn't mention it when you talked to her?"

Steve shook his head as he continued to stare out the window. "No. She didn't," he said numbly. "The place looks nice."

"Yeah," Danny replied, not sure what else to say. Not even sure what else to do. So he sat there, waiting.

Steve continued to look out the window at his home, still wearing the blank expression Danny found so disconcerting. After a minute, he spoke again.

"It doesn't seem real, you know," he said, shaking his head. "It feels like I was here yesterday." He paused and sighed heavily before continuing. "I can't lose almost two years of my life, Danny…" A hint of emotion crept into his voice, although he barely spoke above a whisper. "I just can't."

Danny sighed again. "I know, Steve."

Steve slowly worked his jaw silently for a minute, trying to process. So Danny let his mind wander as he looked out the windshield, giving Steve the space and time he needed.

After a few minutes, Steve nodded and looked over at Danny, looking more like himself than he had since they left the hospital. "Ok then," he said, his voice growing stronger.

"Ok, then… what?"

"The doctor said if I want my memory back, I need to be exposed to things," Steve explained.

"Ok…"

Steve nodded once. "So let's get started."

"Now?" Danny glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "It's almost ten o'clock."

Steve shrugged. "So I'll make some coffee." He opened the door and got out of the car, then leaned over and looked back inside at Danny.

"Are you coming in or not?"

*H50*

The answer, of course, was "yes".

Danny was coming in, if for no other reason than to make sure that Steve had snapped out of his funk. Danny was used to "Rambo Steve": the guy who tackled criminals, jumped into contaminated water after perps, and used military grade munitions whether they were necessary or not. Make no mistake; Rambo Steve was frightening.

But not as frightening as the "Zombie Steve" Danny had just witnessed in the car.

So yes, Danny would come in. He would drink a pot of coffee. Hell, he would drink two or even three if it would help return Steve to the man he was even this morning, much less two years ago.

"You hungry?" Steve asked as he moved around the kitchen, finding the coffee and sugar with the ease like he'd never been gone.

Danny shook his head. "No." Kamekona had brought plenty of shrimp and shave ice to the hospital a few hours earlier. The big man had cried openly when he saw Steve, enveloping him in the world's longest bear hug and refusing to let go. Steve practically had to pry himself loose. It was actually quite entertaining and apart from Steve's reappearance, it was easily the highlight of the day.

The smell of fresh coffee wafted through the air. Steve poured two cups and brought them over to the kitchen table, setting one mug in front of Danny. Danny took a tentative sip of the scalding brew and then added some sugar, stirring to mix it in. Steve just sat and watched, his coffee untouched.

"What?" Danny asked, hoping Zombie Steve had not returned.

"I need you to tell me everything about the night I disappeared," Steve said; commanded, actually, with a piercing gaze to boot.

So much for Zombie Steve. Rambo was back in town.

Which was good, Danny reminded himself. Very good, in fact. Steve was never one to sit idly by; cutting right to the chase was right up Steve's alley. It was a sign of normalcy.

But still, Danny hesitated. Not because he wanted Steve to be in the dark, but simply because he didn't know if Steve was up to it yet. After all, Danny had pulled him out of a pineapple field, bloody and confused, just that morning. Taking it easy for one night wouldn't hurt. Not to mention, Danny was exhausted.

"Look Steve," he started, "you've had a long day. And who knows how long it's been since you slept. Why don't you get some rest and we can talk about it in the morning?"

"No." Steve shook his head, determined. "I'm fine. And I want to talk about it now."

Danny looked down and sighed, massaging his forehead and trying to fend off an impending headache. "Of course you do," he mumbled. After a moment, he looked back up. "I hope you have a lot of coffee."

The corner of Steve's mouth turned up in a once familiar half-grin. "I do."

"Ok." Danny blew out a large breath. "Let's start at the beginning."

*H50*

The beginning was 20 months ago.

Five-0 had ironically busted a laundromat in Chinatown for money laundering. When they raided the building, they found a large number of immigrant workers—far more than usual. They checked the workers' paperwork and noticed all of the documents were new. The documents were also bogus, so it really didn't matter which dates had been placed on them. But they were still pristine—the papers clean and crispy folded. They clearly had not been carried around in the pockets of scared immigrant workers for years or even months; possibly not even for weeks. A big operation had brought them all in recently; there were simply too many new people for any other conclusion to be logical.

"We knew we were looking for a snakehead," Danny said. "The most logical suspect was Sang Min, but he'd been underground for months. So we knew he was either back in business or there was a new player in town."

"So we went looking for Sang Min," Steve said, drawing the natural conclusion.

Danny nodded. "It took a few weeks, but we got a lead on a suspected associate of his; a pimp named Wang Lee. He worked girls down in the industrial district by the airport."

"Smart guy," Steve said, begrudgingly. "There are lots of places to hide down there and plenty of businessmen passing by on the way to their hotels."

"Yep," Danny acknowledged. "So we went to see if we could find Wang Lee and shake him down about Sang Min's whereabouts. We had received a tip about where he was and got to the address around sunset. Mr. Lee was there, standing on the street and talking to one of his girls."

"Let me guess. He ran?"

Danny grinned half-heartedly. "It's like you were there," he joked.

Steve offered a small grin back. "Either that or criminals are universally stupid and always run."

"That too," Danny conceded with a nod. "So Lee ran off and, naturally, we ran after him. But after a few blocks, we lost him." Danny paused and sighed heavily.

Steve waited, allowing Danny to tell the story at his own pace. He knew Danny needed to talk things out to process, just like Steve needed to think things out to do the same. And while mulling things over in the car had helped a little, Steve could tell, just by looking at Danny, that he was not the only one who was still struggling to come to terms with what had happened.

After a moment, Danny continued.

"We split up. You went right, I went left. That was…" Danny's voice broke and he looked down at his coffee.

Steve wasn't sure how long Danny he stayed like that; maybe a few minutes.

But then Danny pulled it together. "That was the last time I saw you," he said, his voice heavy with emotion.

Steve waited again, giving Danny some time.

After a moment, he prompted, "What happened next?"

Danny looked up, his eyes tired and face drained, making him look much older than he was. "After about five minutes, I'd covered my area thoroughly and knew he wasn't there. I figured he'd gone right so I went looking for both of you." He paused and let out a small snort. "I actually thought you were probably already dangling him off a roof."

"Good assumption."

"Maybe." Danny gave a small shrug. "But I was wrong. I couldn't find you anywhere. So I called in back-up."

"You were probably itching to do that before the chase even started," Steve joked, trying to lighten the mood.

It seemed to help some, but not much.

"We searched for hours," Danny said, talking in a monotone as if he was on autopilot. "We called in every available HPD unit. Then we called in extras from the reserves. We expanded the search grid. We brought in helicopters with searchlights. The Governor called in the Navy and the National Guard." Danny paused and took a weary breath before continuing. "We knocked on every door, searched every building. We questioned everyone we could find. We held outgoing flights. We searched the airport and all the planes. We went down to the docks and searched the ships. We worked through the night, into the next day, and then back into the night."

Danny stopped talking and looked back down at his now cold coffee.

Steve waited again, but then it became apparent that Danny was stuck. "But you didn't find me," Steve concluded, his voice gentle and free of condemnation.

Danny shook his head. "You were just… gone," he said quietly. He sighed and looked up at Steve. "I went back every day for two months. But there was nothing. No leads, just nothing. It was like you had never been there." Danny snorted lightly, without humor, and looked back down. He pressed his lips together in a tight line, trying to keep his emotions in check.

He was almost successful.

Danny blinked hard a few times, then spoke quietly. "It was the worst 19 months of my life."

Steve looked at Danny sadly and sighed. "I have a feeling it was for me, too."

To be continued…