It was the height of tourist season and the Honolulu airport was a hive of activity. A cacophony of voices buzzed in the artificially chilled air and the churning of hundreds of people in leis and bright Hawaiian shirts created a kaleidoscope of shifting colors.
Steve shivers, drenched in a cold sweat that the cool air is only compounding. Pulse pounding in his ears, clammy hands clasped tight to keep them from shaking… it's getting more difficult to breathe and he feels lightheaded, nausea climbing up the back of his throat.
Elbows resting against his knees, he leans forward to try and ease the tight band constricting his chest, trying to take deeper breaths. A sharp pain jabs into his hip at the shift in position and the pressure around his chest squeezes harder, the air suddenly caught inside his lungs.
He fumbles in his pocket with numb fingers for the box that's poking him and manages to free it but not the air held hostage in his chest. The edges of the box bite into his fingers, reaching through the tingling numbness, as his grip tightens spasmodically around it... it's tiny hinges scraping against his palm.
He has about two minutes to figure this shit out before he passes out in the middle of the airport.
So far he's managed not to call attention to himself and he's hoping to keep it that way. Running is not an option, either through the crowds or in place. That leaves him with little choice.
He pulls out his cell phone. The screen blurs as sweat burns his eyes and he drags a hand across his face, one leg jogging up and down at a frantic pace while the phone rings.
"I swear, McGarrett, if you ask me to track that flight one more time…"
"Danny," he barely manages to choke the name out.
There's a pause where the only sound is his struggle to breathe, "Steve, are you having a panic attack?"
He presses the phone to his forehead, tries again to regulate his air intake, is entirely unsuccessful, and brings it back to his ear, "-cking hell is the matter with you? Put a nuclear bomb in front of the man… he's a rock. Engagement ring? Meltdown."
"Danny, please…"
"No. You've spent weeks convincing me that this is the right call. Well, congratulations… I am now convinced. And you did not drag me into half-a-dozen jewelry stores to wuss out now. Pull yourself together."
Steve shakes his head helplessly, "I can't."
"Seriously? Who are you and what you have you done with my partner? Because this cannot be Steve I-eat-danger-for-breakfast-with-a-side-of-explosions McGarrett. Navy SEAL, ninja warrior, black-op extraordinaire, any of this ringing a bell? Or are ringing bells a dirty word to you? No? Nothing?" A gruff exhale, "Are you honestly telling me that you can sit in a sniper's perch for hours, infiltrate foreign countries as a hobby, fly a freaking nuclear bomb into the ocean... NONE of that phases you... but your girlfriend coming home takes you apart? The dichotomy you have going here is insanity, you at least see this, yes?"
His partner's high strung rambling has the desired effect and he feels the vice around his chest begin to loosen at the familiar tone. "Danny, I can't treat this like an op. It would make it so much easier if I could…"
"But?" the voice prods cautiously.
"You never let yourself feel anything during a mission except the drive to complete it. She deserves better."
"So you're letting yourself have an emotion. I'm very proud of you. But that emotion is… fear?"
His impulse is to deny it but the proof is in his shaking sweaty hands. He swallows, throat desert dry.
"Steve… what are you afraid of?"
He can't answer that. There's no way to condense the hurricane force of swirling thoughts and feeling that is choking the life out of him into something as finite as words. But words are how Danny lives and breathes and he knows the man can't fathom what it's like to not have any… to try so hard to pin them down but have them elude you anyway.
There's a tired sigh on the other end, "You're gonna hate what I'm about to say, but I need you to trust me no matter how ass-backwards this sounds, alright? I want you to think back to Afghanistan..."
Steve feels his heartbeat immediately pound doubletime against his ribcage. Adrenaline floods his system as dark images and echoes of pain flicker through his brain.
"...back to that moment when you were sure you were about to die…"
Hands dig into his flesh, igniting the fresh wounds, forcing him down, knees buckling and hitting the floor…
"Danny, this isn't helping..." he gasps into the clenched phone, eyes squeezed tight, trying to shove the flood back into its broken cage before it drags him completely under...
"What went through your mind in that moment?"
"Danny…"
"Steve…" the voice is firm, "when you were about to die… what went through your head?"
He groans against the pressure in his head and his chest, and leans back in his seat, free arm instinctively reaching up his shoulder, pressing against phantom pains from the wound that had taken the longest to heal. He swallows hard and can't stop the tremor in his voice, "That I wouldn't be there to help you scare the shit out of the first guy who tries to date Grace. That I didn't say goodbye to Mary."
"And?"
He hesitates, chin dipping down to his chest, waiting through several wheezing breaths before managing in a hoarse whisper, "And I never told Catherine I loved her."
Steve might not be able see his partner, but he just knows that the other man is nodding in grim satisfaction. "Fist bumping death prioritizes a lot of shit, doesn't it?"
He takes another unsteady breath and the air comes easier, "Yeah, I guess it does."
"Sooo... what does that tell you?"
The tone is so akin to how Danny would address Grace after an important life lesson that Steve can't help but grin. "That I'm being an idiot?"
"Ding ding ding! Give the man a prize!"
There is a muffled sound of an unfamiliar notification chime through the phone and Danny "hmmm"s to himself. The clacking of several keys follows before the Jersey native chuckles, "Well, according to this, during our chat her flight landed at terminal B and is now disembarking at gate twelve. So if you're quite done with your little crisis? I suggest you go get your girl."
Adrenaline hits him again but this time it brings excitement in its wake rather than anxiety. He's already moving, crowds parting around him like water breaking for the hull of a ship. "Thanks, Danny."
"Anytime. I got your back, babe, no matter what. You know that, right?"
"I know. You know you're my best man if she says yes?"
"Damn straight I am."
Steve grins even though he knows Danny can't see it. "And Grace… is she too old to be a flower girl?"
His partner sighs but it's fond, he can hear a matching smile when he admonishes, "One thing at a time, Stephen. Let's get through the next five minutes before you start planning the whole thing out."
"Right." He slows his forward march as gate twelve comes into view and he spots a familiar brunette with a duffel at her feet, scanning the crowd. "Gotta go… zero hour."
"Good luck."
He ends the call just as Catherine looks his way and their eyes meet. She smiles and it's shy and maybe just a little coy and his heart leapfrogs all the way up into his throat. All at once they're both running and when they collide he can't help himself from picking her up and spinning around in unending circles. Their arms tangle and she kisses him or maybe he kissed her first but the world narrows to nothing else but this. Until someone whistles and he remembers they're in public and should probably cool it. Just a tad.
He sets her back on her feet and he's gratified that she doesn't let go. Just glances to the side and blushes a bit, arms still locked around his. As he stares at her, suddenly the words are there and he doesn't know how it took so long for him to find them. "Cath… I know we both have… unpredictable lives. And if this past year has proved anything it's that… things happen you could never anticipate… and any one of us could die tomorrow. And I'm not taking that chance anymore. I'm not going to let another day, another minute, go by without letting you know how much I love you."
He drops to one knee and opens the box, fluorescent lights overhead making the diamond sparkle, "Catherine Rollins…" his heart is racing but his voice is steady, "would you do me the honor of accepting the longest, craziest mission of your life, and be my wife?"
There are tears in her eyes and it's making them sparkle more than the gem. She has both hands pressed to her lips but she's laughing and crying through them and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.
"Steve…" she joins him on the tiled floor and pulls him into a fierce hug. Her face presses into his neck and she whispers in his ear, "from this point on… that is the only mission I'll accept."
.
- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -
.
Blue lights glow four a.m. in the dark. Two hours. That's all that has passed since he'd finally been able to nod off.
Steve rolls over, eyes drawn to the nightstand and the empty space where Catherine's gun should be, somehow just as big as the empty space in his bed. He sighs and throws back the covers. He won't sleep any more tonight.