It's been a while since posting the last story, and this one just wouldn't stop bugging me, so here comes another adventure of our favorite characters.
Enjoy and let me know what you think!
It was a picturesque Friday evening in Honolulu.
A gentle breeze carried the scent of tropical flowers through the air as the sun painted the sky in vibrant warm tones. Laughter and music intertwined, creating a melodic symphony that echoed through the bustling streets. Locals and tourists alike reveled in the carefree ambiance, strolling along the palm-lined boulevards or savoring the delectable aromas wafting from the open-air restaurants.
Completely unaware that they were about to die.
It's been an awfully long day, but finally, Steve was at home.
He stepped onto the familiar sandy shore, seeking solace in the rhythmic crashing of the waves and the vibrant hues of the sky. But today, even the tranquil embrace of the ocean failed to ease the weight off his weary shoulders.
He settled into the weathered Adirondack chair, and stared ahead as the sky transformed into a mesmerizing palette of gold, orange, and pink, blending together and casting a warm glow over the darkening waters of the Pacific.
Any other time, he'd have considered the scenery perfect. Breathtaking. An absolute masterpiece.
But not today.
Today, a completely different sunset plagued his mind. The one he'd seen thousands of miles away in Montana. One of the most picturesque ones he'd ever witnessed. The one he'd watched through the haze of tears.
The memory of it was deeply etched within his heart. It'd always be.
"Have you ever in your life seen a sunset like that?"
He gulped down the Longboard he's been cradling in his hand and set the empty bottle on the table next to him. His eyes landed on the empty chair on the other side. He wished Joe White was sitting there right now. Just watching the sunset and cracking some jokes while sipping the beer.
But Joe was gone.
And it was his fault.
If he hadn't been fooled by Greer, Joe might have been still alive. Just like Mark Howard, Tim Cole, Kieran Brewster, and John Lienhan–his brothers in arms, his former teammates, his friends.
All betrayed by a woman Steve had once cared for.
All dead.
Hell, Steve himself very nearly joined them, barely escaping a highly skilled contract killer who had surprised him in this very house. Every day, he could still see the smeared bloodstains on the white tiles in his kitchen even though it's been cleaned weeks ago. A set of three bullet holes in the wall was yet to be fixed.
It was a tangible reminder of the battles he had fought and the bad memories that lingered within these walls. After all, it was in this very house that his father had met his tragic end, a consequence of actions Steve himself had set into motion.
Maybe he should have never come back home.
Would it make a difference? Would anything?
Steve closed his eyes, the weight of his emotions threatening to engulf him. The tears he held back for so long began to well up, searing behind his closed eyelids. The immense remorse gnawed at him, and he yearned for escape from the haunting echoes that reverberated through this place.
He opened his eyes and took a shaky breath, trying to regain control over his emotions. He couldn't let himself drown in guilt. Not now. Not when the weight of the recent loss threatened to consume him entirely.
His phone buzzed in the pocket of his cargo pants. He took it out and checked the screen. It was a two-word text from Danny.
You okay?
Steve could tell his best friend was worried. Danny's been there for him when Joe died. He'd flown all the way to Montana just to check on him and ended up helping him to get justice without a moment's hesitation.
It's been almost two weeks since their return to Hawaii, and Steve tried his best to move on. He'd thrown himself into work like a madman, because keeping his mind occupied was the only thing that kept him from crumbling apart.
Danny had never said anything out loud, but his body spoke for the man. The worried glances every time Steve zoned out for a moment, the reassuring touches to ground him when his thoughts were about to spiral out of control, the unannounced visits after particularly rough days with a six-pack of Steve's favourite beer, the check-up texts when he wasn't around.
Words couldn't describe how grateful Steve was to have Danny as his friend. But sometimes all the attention actually made things worse. Unfortunately, the blonde detective had hard time understanding Steve's need to be left alone. That's what he was used to, after all. He'd been dealing with his problems alone for his entire adult life, and despite Danny's beliefs, keeping the emotions under the lid worked just fine for him. That's why he refused Danny's offer to stay with him for a couple of days. Just like he declined the team's invitation for today's dinner.
Right now, he just wanted to be alone.
I'm fine. Good night.
He sent the reply and fixed his gaze on nature's show again.
As the sun dipped behind the horizon, he decided to get another beer. Or two. Or how many it'd take to drown the intrusive thoughts out and finally allow him some night's rest.
But as he made his way through the living room, he'd seen his father's blood on the wooden floor. He'd swear he could hear the gun firing and smell the gunpowder in the air. He pushed through to the kitchen, but the three small holes in the wall were there again, waiting for him, screaming at him. Reminding him of the death of not just one father, but the two of them.
He couldn't do this.
He needed to get out of this house.
Now.
It was all a blur. Before he knew it, he was driving his Silverado on the road to nowhere, his grip tight on the steering wheel as he panted for breath.
What the hell was happening to him? He was Steve McGarrett, for God's sake. A decorated war veteran. A Navy SEAL. A special task force leader. A survivor. He had to get a grip. Had to.
After what felt like hours of aimless driving, he'd pulled out to a car park in front of a bar at a seaside with a long open counter. He got out and made his way right towards it.
The bar stools lined the length of the long counter, all facing a centre space populated by chefs, waitresses and bartenders. The stools swiveled, providing a pleasant view of the pier's edge and the bay beyond.
Steve sat and ordered a bottle of Longboard. He turned to stare out across the marina. As he did so, a cool barrel jammed into his side, pressing between his ribs with considerable weight.
"Nice to see you again, Commander," a low voice whispered into his ear.
*to be continued*