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Sorry, but this is going to be another two part-er. There is whump to come in the next part, I promise.
Thank you to the lovely ElizabethWriter, who very kindly offered her services as beta. I've tinkered with this chapter since she checked it over so any mistakes are of my doing.
I'm awoken from my self-induced post-alcoholic stupor by my roommate, who takes far too much pleasure in whipping the duvet away from where I've pulled it up over my head in an attempt to ease my hangover. Katie flops down on the bed beside me, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.
"So, good night last night then?" she asks, her expression slightly too innocent for comfort. Groaning, I press my face into my pillow and try to pull my comforter back over my head but Katie just laughs and pins it down with her elbow.
"Ah, ah, ah," she sing-songs, "Not until you tell me everything. Starting with who that guy was."
"What are you talking about?"
Confused, I push myself up on one arm and turn to squint at my best friend. My head is so fuzzy, I can barely see straight let alone remember much of what happened last night. Come to think of it, I'm not exactly sure how I got home.
"I'm talking about the guy that brought you home last night," Katie repeats, rolling her eyes at me in exasperation. "Mr. tall, dark and handsome with the eyes and the tattoos?" Her dark eyes are sparkling with curiosity and she props her chin up on her hand before asking, "So, who is he? Did something happen between the two of you?"
I let my head drop into my hands and groan, this time in embarrassment. Katie's interrogation seems to have hit a nerve and I end up muttering, "He's just someone I know from work. Nothing happened; I was drunk and the commander was obviously just being a gentleman by making sure I got home okay."
"The commander as in… Commander McGarrett?" Katie cocks her head to the side. "I thought you couldn't stand the man."
"He apologized."
"And?" Katie motions for me to continue.
"I accepted his apology. We talked."
I wearily rub a hand over my face. Katie doesn't look convinced and I don't really blame her - It's pretty obvious that there's a little more to my story than I'm letting on. I sigh, knowing that Katie isn't going to let it go and force myself to swallow around the lump that has appeared in my throat.
"I was upset about something that had happened at work and Commander McGarrett ended up talking me down from the ledge, so to speak. I was convinced it was my fault that one of my patients didn't make it. The commander made me realize that wasn't the case."
"That's actually kind of sweet," Katie says, giving my arm a gentle squeeze.
Pushing herself upright, she leans over and smacks my ass, making me squeal in surprise. "Alright. Up and at 'em, Sweeting," she orders, whipping the comforter down to the bottom of my bed. "I start work in an hour and a half and I'm in desperate need of some Loco Moco from that place down by the beach."
Forty minutes later I'm sat on one of the wooden tables outside Kamekona's shrimp truck, pushing the remains of my Loco Moco around my plate with a plastic fork. The shrimp truck is popular with the local emergency services personnel and the tourists who flock to Waikiki for the sun and the beach. It's where Heather and I had lunch on my first day on the job.
The food is usually to die for but I'm not really feeling it today - the yolk of the egg on top of my hamburger patty has burst and the sight of the congealing yellow goo mixing with the gravy underneath makes my stomach twist sharply. I push my plate away and turn to look at the people wandering along the beach behind me in the early afternoon sun; in the distance I can see a young girl in school uniform holding her father's hand as she walks along the low wall separating the beach from the boardwalk.
Across the table, Katie glances down at her watch and sighs. "I better go," she says, leaning forwards to snag my plate. "Do you want a lift to your car?"
Adjusting my sunglasses, I shake my head. "Thanks, but I think I'll just walk it. I figure the fresh air will do me good."
"Okie dokie." Katie stands and turns to dump our rubbish in the trashcan behind us. "We still on for movie night tonight?" she asks, digging around in her purse for her car keys. She holds them aloft when she finally locates them in the depths of her oversized bag. It's been ages since we had a girly night in and I'm really looking forwards to being able to kick back and relax with my bestie.
"I'll have beer and pizza waiting," I promise.
The boardwalk is crowded despite it being Friday and once Katie has left for work, I lean back against the wooden table and gaze out at the shallow waters just beyond the beach. Turning my face skywards, I close my eyes for a moment and let the warmth of the early afternoon sun soothe the lingering ache in my head. My attention is drawn by high-pitched, care free giggling off to my left and I find myself watching the little girl from earlier shriek with laughter as the man holding her hand suddenly scoops her off the low wall she's been walking along. He throws her over his shoulder as though she's weightless, eliciting laughter-filled cries of 'Uncle Steeeve! Put me down!' as he takes off at a run with her hanging halfway down his back.
It's a joy to watch after spending the last six days up close and personal with enough pain and suffering to last a lifetime, and I smile to myself as the man makes a show out of pretending to drop the young girl before flipping her right-side up and settling her on his hip with ease.
They're close enough now that I finally recognize the dark hair and combats-and-tee working uniform favored by a certain ex-Navy SEAL. Well, color me surprised…
There's no way I would have pegged McGarrett as being good with kids; I think it's the combination of the way he holds himself and the laser focus he seems to get when it comes to getting the job done. He comes across as intimidating and unapproachable, but the little girl perched on his hip is grinning as though the commander is the best thing since Ben and Jerry's cookie dough ice-cream, so I guess that just goes to show that you should never judge a book by its cover.
I'm so caught up contemplating this strange turn of events that I don't realize I'm openly staring until the commander is standing directly in front of me. Busted… My cheeks flush from the embarrassment of being caught.
"Uh, hi," I stutter, running a hand through my hair in a pathetic attempt to disguise any awkwardness between us. The commander just cocks his head to the side as though he's surprised to see me A, upright and B, looking relatively human; apart from the smug smirk on McGarrett's face and the dark circles hidden behind my oversized sunglasses, there are no obvious clues to suggest that I spent the better part of last night on a mission to drink my bodyweight in Jose Cuervo.
"Hey." McGarrett crouches down and sets the little girl on her feet, and she automatically leans into him, her cheeks still flushed with delight.
"Who's your friend?" I ask, giving the young girl a small wave. She smiles shyly before pressing her face into the commander's side.
"This is Gracie." His hand automatically comes up to cup the girl's face before gently tugging on the braid that's not currently pressed against his hip. "Gracie, this is Chloe."
"Do you work with Danno and Uncle Steve?" Gracie gazes up at me with big curious eyes.
I hesitate. I don't have a clue what – or who? - this 'Danno' is and when I falter, the young girl glances up at the commander, who, thankfully, answers the question for me.
"She sure does," McGarrett says. He pulls his wallet from his pocket and crouches down in front of the young girl. "Hey, what do you say to getting some shave ice while I talk to Chloe for a minute? Tell Kamekona I said 'go wild'."
The young girl eyes me curiously but the promise of shave ice seems to appease her and she shrugs before taking the proffered bill from McGarrett's outstretched hand. "Okay, be right back," she chirps, hopscotching her way over to the large Hawaiian man standing behind the counter of the shrimp truck.
With Gracie gone, there's a slightly awkward silence as Commander McGarrett sits down across from me. So far, I've avoided bringing up the elephant in the room – namely, last night's emotional breakdown and the subsequent tequila binge that resulted in the commander having to save me from myself. I have no idea what happened in between ordering that one last tequila slammer and waking up in my own bed with the hangover from hell, and that scares the living shit out of me.
Now don't get me wrong, McGarrett seems like a stand-up guy and yes, I know that I told Katie nothing happened between us, but if I'm being honest, the truth is that I'm scared to ask incase I did something incredibly stupid in my drunken state. And by that I mean something stupid enough to ruin what was turning out to be a budding friendship. The scenarios currently running through my head include everything from throwing up on his shoes to drunkenly throwing myself at the guy because he just happened the first man to show me an ounce of kindness since Eddie The-Love-Rat Ray broke my heart.
Still, the least I can do is thank him for taking me home. I'm about to open my mouth to do just that when McGarrett turns to look at me across the table.
"How's your head?" he asks, breaking the awkward silence. There's a smile tugging at the corners of his lips and if I didn't know any better, I'd swear the man is actually finding entertainment in my discomfort. I aim for nonchalance.
"I've had worse," I shrug. It's a bald-faced lie; I've never been so hungover in my entire life but he doesn't really need to know that. Even so, I suspect that my flaming-hot cheeks are giving the game away somewhat.
"Right." By now, McGarrett's smile has morphed into a full-on grin. I'm obviously not as good a liar as I thought and I throw my hands up in the air. Fine… If the guy wants honesty, that's exactly what he's gonna get.
"Okay, fine," I say. "My head is killing me. I have a bruise the size of Molokai from where I appear to have fallen over my hairdryer. Said hairdryer is now broken, and, to top it all off, my roommate thinks that something happened between us last night. Which is just ridiculous, right?"
The last few words come out sounding slightly hysterical but at least they're out there. No matter what the reply is, I figure I'll be able to console myself with the knowledge that I did the right thing by asking; if not for my friendship with the commander, then at least for my sanity.
"Nothing happened, if that's what you're asking."
"Oh, thank God." I let out the breath I was holding and slump back against the table. I can't even begin to describe the relief I feel when I hear him say those words and I end up confessing, "All morning I've been having these visions about what may or may not have happened last night. I just about had myself convinced that I'd done something really embarrassing."
"Such as falling flat on your face and having to be carried to the car?" McGarrett asks, trying, and failing, to suppress a smile.
"Please tell you're joking." I bury my face in my hands and risk glancing at the commander though splayed fingers. His face creases into a grin and I groan. "Oh, god… I'm never going to live that down, am I?"
"If it helps, I don't think anyone actually saw you fall. We were practically at the car when you so elegantly decided to reacquaint yourself with the pavement."
I have to say, his attempt to console me would be a whole lot more believable if he wasn't enjoying this so much. The bastard.
"What's so funny?" Gracie is back and she eyes my crimson cheeks curiously as she spoons bright blue ice into her mouth.
"Nothing, sweetheart," the commander tells her. "We were just talking about something that happened at work. Are you ready to go?"
"Uhuh." She grins, revealing a mouthful of blue-tinged teeth. Her tongue is stained a similar color.
Commander McGarrett chuckles and pushes himself upright. "Okay then. Let's get you home and cleaned up before your dad finds out I let you eat enough sugar to power the island."
Grace waves as the Commander McGarrett ushers her towards the parking lot. They disappear around the back of Kamekona's shrimp truck and it suddenly occurs to me that I never thanked the commander for driving me home last night. I can probably catch up to them if I'm quick so I scoop my bag up off the ground and take off at a run, dodging tables and groups of tourists as I race to catch up.
He's walking around the front of a dark blue Chevrolet pick-up truck when I finally spot him amidst the sea of vehicles in the sprawling lot.
"Hey, McGarrett! Wait up!" I yell, waving my arms in the air like a lunatic. The arm waving seems to do the trick. Grace must already be belted into the back because the commander pauses with one hand on the driver's side door.
I cover the remaining distance between us at a slower pace; what should have been an easy sprint has left me sweaty and breathless so I can only assume that the leftover alcohol in my system is screwing with me - I'm usually more than capable of running the length of myself without feeling like I'm about to have a heart attack.
"I never thanked you for making sure I got home okay," I tell the commander when I can finally draw enough breath to talk. He smiles at me.
"You already thanked me last night." In other words, I ran all the way over here for nothing.
A new-ish Jeep Cherokee pulls up beside us and prepares to back into the empty space behind the commander's Chevvy, and I end up having to shout to be heard over the revving engine.
"Right. Well, uh… Thanks again. I guess I'll see you around."
I step back onto the pavement and silently cringe at the way I appear to have mysteriously transformed back into an awkward teenager. As if it wasn't bad enough the first time round, I think, shaking my head in disgust.
What happens next chills me to my very core. I'm almost at the shrimp truck when a child's terrified scream pierces the air.
Gracie's...
I whip round as the black Cherokee suddenly lurches forwards. The subsequent thud of two tons of metal colliding with flesh and bone makes me feel sick to my stomach.