A/N: Last slow chapter, I promise.

...

3 years ago

He needed sunglasses to look at the courthouse. Still damp from an earlier cloudburst, the marble building glistened brightly under the blue sky, and the gold statute on the front lawn glowed with the radiance of the sun itself. Standing beside his rental car in the parking lot, Kurtis shaded his eyes with one hand and squinted up at the building.

Somewhere inside was McGarrett.

It was Kurtis's third time here this week. Fresh out of prison, he knew he was tempting fate with his frequent visits; he wasn't sure why he felt drawn to the place, other than a pressing need for closure. He was not even sure what he wanted; only that, despite the passage of nearly a decade, Kurtis was still haunted by the past. His soul felt hungry and restless, and Kurtis was at a loss for how to find peace.

"Sir?"

Kurtis turned to find a security guard approaching. He tensed, worried the man might have recognized him. There was a restraining order in place after all.

But the guard only said, "This lot is for employees only."

"Oh." Kurtis feigned surprise. He knew the policy- he'd seen the signs, red lettering on white, explaining the spaces were reserved. "Sorry," he said, not because he was sorry, but because it was the expected reply.

"There's a tourist garage down the street," the guard continued, thumbing over his shoulder.

Kurtis nodded. "Thanks. I was just going." He returned to his car- a dingy, shuddering hatchback, and drove a few blocks away, parking in the shade on a back street. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the seat. So close, and yet so very far. With each day, each minute, he felt a barrage of conflicting emotions about the whole thing. In many ways, his life felt incomplete, like a book still opened that needed to be shut. Or maybe a scar that refused to heal, a wound that continued to ooze.

Kurtis wished, more than anything, that he could forget it all. He wanted the last two decades erased from memory, from the moment Colin enlisted until that fateful day the two officers showed up on his front walk, and everything that followed. It still hurt, even now: fathers were never meant to lose their children. A deep ache tugged at his heart, and he clenched his fists, willing it to go away. For a long minute, his nails dug into the palms of his hands and he struggled to bring his rage under control.

Mandatory counselling had helped, but manual labor had helped more. Working out, keeping himself busy from sunup to sundown at the hardware store, long walks on the beach after dark- anything to keep his mind busy and his body tired. The fits of anger that had once plagued him were rare now, but grief was never far away and no amount of physical labor or counselling had lessened the pain.

Finally lifting his head, he blinked and tried to collect his bearings. A sign caught his eye: Koko Liquors.

Kurtis went inside.

…

Should he tell Danny that Foster had been released a few weeks ago? Steve debated this for nearly an hour after the phone call with the warden, staring past his blank computer screen through the window to his partner's office. On the one hand, Steve wanted to tell him, if only to share the burden somewhat. The detective would want to know, too, but on the other hand, what would he actually do with the information? Steve had suffered physically at the hands of the enraged father, but Danny had suffered, too, in worry and stress and bouts of rage that had sometimes given Steve cause for concern. What good would it be to let him know?

Steve wanted nothing more than to go home, fire up the grill, and sit on the lanai with his best friend and a case of beer. Despite the incessant talking and annoying rants, the detective had a strange way of putting Steve at ease, and Steve, at this moment, craved the company.

He sighed. Pushing back from the desk, he stood and rapped on the detective's door.

"Hey D? Got any plans tonight?"

…

Fingering a rumpled bill in his pocket as he roamed the aisles, Kurtis searched for something cheap. Quantity, not quality. He'd never been one to drink much, but that had changed since he got out of prison. Alcohol might not fill the empty hole in his life, but it at least made him forget for a while that the hole existed. He ignored the chime at the front of the store as another customer entered.

"Aloha. Can I help you, sir?"

"Yeah. You got any Longboards?"

Kurtis froze.

"Yes, sir. Aisle two."

Kurtis ducked his head and pretended to intently study a bottle of vodka as McGarrett strode past. A thousand conflicting thoughts coursed through his mind.

Kill him.

Run away.

Ignore him.

Fight him.

Avoid him.

Kill him.

Fresh memories of his granddaughter, now nearly a teenager, held Kurtis in place. Bottles clinked as a case slid off the shelf. Kurtis turned away, catching a brief glimpse of the Five-0 commander. He noted McGarrett still wore a badge and carried a gun. The damage Kurtis inflicted nearly ten years ago apparently had not been permanent.

"Anything else, sir?"

"No, that'll be it."

"Seven-ninety-nine."

A credit card beeped in the machine.

A receipt crinkled. Footsteps squeaked on the waxed floor. The doorbell chimed.

Kurtis released his breath and remained where he was, staring blankly at a crate of silver vodka bottles, his heart pounding furiously. He did not notice the employee approaching, and he jumped, startled, when the man appeared beside him.

"Help you find something, sir?"

"What? No. No, thank you." Through the window, Kurtis watched a blue truck pull out of the lot. He stared down at the bottle of vodka in his hand. In his pocket, his fingers touched the wad of rumpled bills. He needed…

But no. No, he did not need. He wanted. Right? The counsellor had spoken to him about this, too.

"If you're looking for something better, we just got a crate of this other brand," the clerk interrupted, pointing around Kurtis to another bottle on the shelf. "I don't drink it, but my girlfriend says this one's got a much smoother taste, if that's your thing."

"Yeah. Thanks," Kurtis mumbled absently.

The clerk waited a long beat, then finally wandered off.

Want.

Need.

Did it really make a difference?

Kurtis grabbed the cheapest bottle.

…

Danny leaned on the lanai railing, a sweating Longboard swirling between his fingers as he watched Steve work the grill. Steve hadn't invited anyone else over- just him. It wasn't a holiday or birthday, no anniversary of any event good or terrible, and Danny couldn't find anything of interest in the news. He scrutinized his partner for clues. Steve had seemed a little off for the past few weeks, but Danny just assumed it was due to their heavy caseload. Now, however, he wondered if that assumption were wrong. "Everything ok, babe?"

At Danny's question, Steve's head jerked up and he gave Danny an odd, deer-in-the-headlights look. Then he grinned sloppily and held up a greasy spatula.

"Burgers almost done."

"Great," Danny nodded, not buying the lie for a second. Steve never just invited him over. There was always a reason. The SEAL was simply not a sociable guy, even when it came to casual cookouts. "What's the occasion?"

"What occasion?"

"This," Dany twirled the bottle at the table between them, which held the condiments, buns, and a cooler of drinks. "Why am I here?"

"That's a loaded question. You asking philosophically or spiritually?"

"Physically, you dolt. Why am I physically in your backyard about to eat under-cooked slabs of beef?"

"Cause I invited you," Steve smirked. "And raw meat is high in vitamins and nutrients."

"Ignoring that last remark, what's the occasion?"

"No occasion. Just felt like cooking out."

And by that, Danny understood Steve meant that he wanted the company for some reason. But of course, being Steve, he couldn't simply ask Danny to come over just for the heck of it, to talk and get the weight off his shoulders. That would be showing weakness, Danny thought grimly. There was always some excuse, even if it was as simple as, I wanted burgers, so I'm grilling tonight. And so here they were, standing around the overly-convenient, obviously-contrived excuse of the grill, pretending like everything was fine even though it obviously wasn't.

Danny sighed. It was moments like this that he wished he had majored in psychology.

…

Kurtis woke up on the floor with a horrible taste in his mouth. Disoriented, it took him a moment to realize his phone was ringing, and by the time he managed to get to his feet, the call had ended.

Phone clutched in one hand, he stumbled to the window where bright, morning sunlight streamed through the shutters. The number wasn't one he recognized. He hoped it wasn't someone from the parole office.

Clutching his pounding head, he went into the bathroom and rifled through the cabinet for aspirin. He'd just found the bottle when the phone rang again.

"Kurt? Mr. Foster?" a female voice asked hesitantly when he groggily answered. She sounded vaguely familiar. "It's Alice." A slight pause followed. "Your daughter-in-law."

It had been ten years since he'd heard her voice, and it took Kurtis a moment before he finally found his. "Hello," he rasped. Turning on the tap, he cupped the water into his mouth, rinsed, swallowed the aspirin, and tried again. "It's good to hear from you."

"Yeah."

Kurtis noticed she didn't say, you too.

"I hope you don't mind me calling."

"No, not at all," he replied, perhaps a little too quickly. In truth, he was astonished she had called, and he wasn't sure how she'd gotten the number. From Martha, his ex-wife, he hadn't heard a word since he was incarcerated, and Alice had only written once, with a picture from his granddaughter's christening. Forcing himself to slow his excitement, he sat down on the wicker chair in the living room and tried again. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. I was actually calling about your granddaughter. You remember- she was just a baby when…"

Another pause.

"When Colin died," Kurtis intervened.

"Yes. She, um… well, she's almost a teenager by now, and… we're trying to let her make some of her own decisions."

Kurtis had a feeling he knew where this was going, and his heart fluttered with hope.

"Anyway, she wanted to meet you. I mean, you knew her when she was a baby, but…"

"I'd love to meet her," he replied, hoping he sounded calm. Colin's daughter… his own granddaughter… he hadn't dared to hope he would see her again. The silence for the past decade had made him wonder if they were even still on the islands.

"I got the number from the parole office. They said you're allowed supervised visits. We were thinking maybe… Saturday? Would that work for you?"

"That would be perfect." He wasn't scheduled to work Saturday.

"Where would you like… I mean, if you have a place you'd like to meet?" Alice made no offer for Kurtis to come to her place, wherever she lived now.

Kurtis almost gave her his address, then thought better of it and gave directions to the nearest beach instead. After she hung up, he went outside and stood in the bright morning light. His head might throb and his throat felt like sand, but Kurtis suddenly didn't mind.

Inside, his heart soared.