He found the scar the first time they made love, the night he'd come home from Pete's funeral in Arizona. Just under Danny's ribcage, right where bone gave way to strong abdominal muscles, there was a ridge of rough skin the size of an elongated dime. Lost in the wonder of finally having Danny beneath him, of being buried inside him, Steve's mind registered the sensation then let it go, blocked out by other, more urgent needs.
The next time Steve saw the scar was early the next morning. Danny was still asleep beside him, curled on his side facing the center of the bed, one hand tucked beneath Steve's hip. Steve had awakened before dawn and drowsed until the room grew light enough to banish the shadows, then shifted so that he could watch Danny wake up.
Asleep, Danny exuded a seductive mix of intense, controlled energy and weary innocence. The hand not connected to Steve was rolled into a loose fist on the mattress between them, and the frown lines between his eyes, though diminished, gave him the appearance of a man worrying over something in his dreams. Steve ached to soothe those furrows with his fingers but chose not to, selfish enough to want to keep this quiet moment all to himself. The dream he'd had in the middle of the night and the brief moment of terror he'd experienced after he'd awakened had driven home how deeply he'd fallen, and Danny's declaration that he'd slay a dragon to make sure Steve was okay had ripped him apart and put him back together to face a world he never could have imagined only weeks ago. He'd then made love to Danny with everything he had, praying that his touch and the words he whispered in Danny's ear could express a fraction of what he was feeling.
But the old scar bothered him. He could just make it out as the room lightened, barely a smudge on Danny's skin, like any other scar, and yet like no other. Steve had seen men wounded in that same place, many times—and many times, those men had not survived.
He'd taken hardly any time to vet mouthy, fish-out-of-water Detective Danny Williams before strong-arming him into his father's murder investigation. Danny's captain vouched for him and that was all Steve needed at the time, especially since he was racing against a deadline. He hadn't known about the shooting in Danny's past until Rachel brought it up in the hospital when Danny was knifed; after the formation of the task force, he'd had HPD forward everyone's work records but had only glanced at them once as things settled down. He'd noticed the months-long absence of arrests and found a notation that Officer Williams was out on disability for a work-related injury, but there was no mention of the reason. Now he knew he needed to read Danny's entire personnel jacket because he had a feeling that Danny's version of whatever had happened would be, if not outright fictionalized, a less than accurate account. Colorful, yes. Truthful, maybe.
In hindsight, Steve found it annoying that Rachel confronted Danny with her memories of the incident while Danny was still in pain from the stabbing, using a tone that made Steve understand a lot of Danny's frustration with her. Danny had been the one who'd been shot—and stabbed—but she managed to make everything about her, and feeling as he did about Danny, Steve found himself simultaneously pissed off at himself and protective of his partner. Pissed off because that must have been something monumental in Danny's life, another part of the Danny Williams puzzle that had captured Steve almost from the moment they'd met—and he knew nothing about it. And the protective thing was stupid—Danny more than held his own with his ex and didn't need Steve sticking up for him.
And yet that's exactly what he wanted to do.
Watching Danny roll over onto his back, Steve reached out to touch but pulled back. He could see Danny's golden eyelashes fluttering as he slowly came awake, his hand idly scratching up and down the middle of his chest. Arching his other arm over his head, Danny stretched out with a muffled yawn, then blinked a couple of times before rolling his head on the pillow, greeting Steve with a sleepy, sexy smile that hit Steve like a punch in the gut.
"Mornin'," Danny muttered. "It is morning, right?"
"More or less."
"'kay." Danny closed his eyes again, but moved his hand over until he encountered Steve's arm, gliding his fingers down until they entwined with Steve's. Steve thought Danny had fallen asleep again, until those blue eyes reopened and pinned Steve with a glare.
"How long have you been awake?"
Steve shrugged. "A while."
"And you've just been watching me—nah, no way. What are you doing, are you watching me sleep?"
"So what if I am? You got a problem with that?"
"What did I tell you? Big romantic mushball, that's what you are. Oh, my God, I bet you do this to everyone you sleep with, don't you?"
"No." Steve's smile was serene. "I don't."
Danny's mouth opened and closed a couple of times. "Really?"
"Really." Steve rolled close to Danny and mouthed a kiss on the curve of his shoulder. "Fine. Whatever, I guess my secret's out, I like watching you sleep." He slid his hand across Danny's flat belly, tracing the edge of his thumb lightly over the scar before letting his hand drift down to cup a prominent hipbone. "You're cute when you're asleep, you know that? Mostly because you're not talking."
"Not talking?" Danny's words were robbed of almost any substance, since Steve was nibbling a path down his abdomen as he kicked the sheet toward the bottom of the bed. "You like it when I talk, c'mon, admit it."
Steve looked up and smiled slowly at Danny, making sure Danny saw the intent in his eyes. "Maybe I do. Maybe I like seeing how fast I can shut you up."
Steve lowered his head, his smile widening as he heard Danny's sharply indrawn breath and felt Danny's fingers in his hair. Yeah, he thought, Danny wasn't going to be doing much talking for a while.
"Look, I'm just gonna run in, check out Gracie's medal, then leave. Hell, I'm lucky I even get that much on a week night."
Steve grunted and leaned past Danny to look at Rachel's front door. "Meaning Rachel would normally make you wait until the weekend to see Grace's prize."
"Yes, that's true, so we thank God for small favors. Now you, you can wait here for five minutes and decide where we're going to have dinner, because there's no food at your place, we ate everything."
Steve opened the driver's side door and swung his leg onto the driveway. "Or, I can come in and be polite to Rachel so maybe you get more than five minutes with Grace."
"Okay," Danny said as they walked up the steps, "I take it back."
Knowing he was being set up, Steve had to ask. "Take back what?"
"You're more than just a pretty face on top of a stack of tattooed muscles." Danny grinned at him as he pressed the door bell, so Steve just rolled his eyes to convey his opinion of that comment. They waited for a few minutes until it was opened, not by Rachel, but by a maid.
"Ah, yeah, hi, Lucy, I'm here to see Grace. And yes, I have permission."
Lucy opened the door and stepped aside, giving Danny a flirty smile that raised Steve's hackles. "Yes, Miss Rachel said you were stopping by. Please, come in."
"Thank you." Danny turned to Steve, hand outstretched to usher him in. "Stephen, after you. Remember to mind your manners while I'm upstairs. Don't touch anything and, oh yeah, try not to blow anything up in the five minutes I'm gone."
As Steve passed Danny, he tapped him on the chest with his knuckle. "You're pushing it."
"Yeah, I know," Danny replied, "it's what I do."
The maid led Steve to the living room while Danny went up to Grace's room. He wandered around, looking at objects that had no discernible use except to be pretty, thinking about nothing deeper than dinner. But he felt himself growing uncomfortable, and it wasn't hard to figure out why. Aside from being where Danny's ex lived—which was reason enough—he just didn't like this place. He didn't like the shiny, slick surfaces, the bland colors, the nagging sensation that he was in a chain hotel with a buffet around the corner.
He finally settled near the window, arms crossed over his chest and his feet planted in one place, staring out at the perfectly manicured lawn. He was trying to decide between Mexican food and steak when he heard footsteps behind him, too light to be Danny's rolling gait. He let out a breath and turned to find Rachel standing in the doorway, hands tucked into the pockets of her skirt.
"Uh, hi," Steve said. "I'm just waiting for Danny."
"I see he let you come in this time instead of asking you to wait in the car." She said the words with a smile, but Steve just nodded.
"Yeah, we'll be gone soon." There was an awkward pause, then Steve frowned. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"
Rachel came further into the room. "Of course."
"What happened when Danny got shot back in New Jersey?"
The courteous smile dropped away. "Why don't you ask him?"
Steve shrugged. "You know Danny, he'll give me two obscure details and change the subject."
"Perhaps because it isn't any of your business."
"Actually, it is my business. I have his file with the details, but I wanted to hear about it from someone who was there, someone who used to care about him."
"Used to care?" Rachel's eyes flashed as she swept her hair off her shoulders. "What makes you think I no longer care about Danny?"
There were a dozen ways for Steve to reply to that question, but none of them would get him the answers he wanted. He knew he needed to be more tactful with Rachel, but tact wasn't exactly his strength.
"All right," he conceded, "maybe that was a poor choice of words. What I meant was, that had to have been a difficult time, for both of you."
"It was." She paused, lifting a hand to her cheek. "Grace was only two and I was so unfamiliar with—"
"How did it happen?"
Rachel blinked, startled by Steve's abrupt question. "Well, it was almost silly, really. He wasn't even on duty at the time."
Steve had to concentrate to keep his voice even. "What was silly about it?"
"Danny was still in uniform when it happened. He'd already passed the detective's exam but there were no openings at that level in the department. He and his partner Patrick had just gone off duty, Danny was giving him a ride home after a night shift and they stopped to pick up some formula for Patrick's newborn. They walked straight on into a hostage situation during a convenience store robbery." She stopped, bowing her head and pressing her hands together, giving Steve a glimpse of the horror she must've gone through. He had a brief moment of empathy for her as his own throat tightened, his imagination filling in the blanks. He struggled to control the reaction that picture evoked, picturing a young Danny in his blues, probably teasing his partner as they walked into the store, anxious to get home to his own wife and daughter—it was the stuff of tragedy.
Then Rachel's words came back to Steve and he stiffened, his anger resurfacing.
"And, I'm sorry, you find that silly?"
"Well, it was a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time," Rachel snapped, and the hint of bitterness in her voice made Steve realize that she still had no idea what it was like to be married to a cop and that any decent police officer would've been glad to be on scene if there were innocent people at risk. "The two robbers were apprehended, but Danny was shot in the abdomen protecting the hostages. He nearly died."
Steve swallowed hard. "And his partner? Patrick?"
"Not a scratch. They both received a commendation for their actions." Her expression turned brittle. "Patrick was quite the hero, they say that he saved Danny's life."
"They 'say' he saved Danny's life? What does that mean?"
Rachel gave him an unfriendly look, as though she expected him to know the answer.
"Oh, they were very closed-mouth about it, but there was something they were hiding and Danny wouldn't discuss it, but then he never did talk about his work because he knew how it upset me. Patrick may not have been injured, but he was out on leave longer than Danny, due to—what do they call it? Post-traumatic distress?"
"Post-traumatic stress disorder, PTSD." Steve rubbed at his jaw, trying to relax muscles that had clenched involuntarily. "Not uncommon for someone involved in a situation like that."
"Yes, well, he returned to work after almost a year but quit almost immediately. Now I believe he works at his father-in-law's car lot. Not exactly a hero."
"He saved Danny's life," Steve said flatly, "so that makes him a hero in my book." There was more to the story, but Steve could tell that Rachel had a lot of issues that were coloring her viewpoint. Whatever it was about this Patrick guy that bothered her, Steve could only feel gratitude for his actions.
Rachel tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "It's always the same with you types, isn't it?"
"I'm sorry? What is?"
"Danny and his partners. New Jersey, Hawaii, it doesn't matter where, you're a closed society, a private club for two. It's been like that with every partner he's had. Well, every partner except me, obviously." Her hands went back into her pockets, her gaze somewhere past Steve's shoulder. "I never could compete with his partners, or with the force, for that matter. You've worked with him for a while now, you see how intense he is, how loyal he is. And he'll be like that when he returns to the police department, I'm sure. Really, you should warn his next partner—"
"Wait, when he does what?"
Rachel took a step back, removing her hands from her pockets. "Returns to the detective squad. I was under the impression that his assignment to this task force was temporary because of your status with the military. At least that's what he told me—"
"When? When did he tell you that?"
"Oh, I don't know, I think it was several months ago, before that awful football game—I'm sorry, have I said something to upset you?"
Steve lowered his head and exhaled, planting his fists on his hips. "No, sorry, I think there's been a miscommunication here. The task force is permanent. Danny isn't going anywhere."
"Really? Well, that is surprising, knowing how he feels about being a cop."
Steve bit his lower lip as the grip he'd held on his temper begin to loosen. "Wait, are you saying he's not a real cop if he's on my task force? You saw him here, you saw how he works—"
"Commander, I wasn't implying that what he does now doesn't have merit—"
"Funny, because that's what it sounded like to me." Dial it down, McGarrett, she's looking at you funny—and damn it, when did the voice in his head start to sound like Danny?
"That wasn't my intent. But you'll agree that you can't possibly know Danny as well as I do, so you wouldn't understand how important Danny's career is to him. This—detour, shall we call it—into your state task force is only taking him away from what he's worked so hard to achieve."
Steve took a step back, then paused. He was about two seconds from giving up any pretense of being cordial, so he figured that waiting outside would be a good tactical choice at this point. He knew he'd become deeply vulnerable where Danny was concerned, so it was in his best interest to at least remain civil with Rachel, since she would always be a part of Danny's life because of Grace.
And since Steve had every intention of always being a part of Danny's life—and Gracie's—he needed to maintain control.
"Listen," he said, "I know Danny better than you think I do, so maybe we can agree that he if wanted out of 5-0, he'd be gone. And if he wanted to transfer back to HPD, I wouldn't try to stop him." Okay, that was an out-and-out lie, but Rachel couldn't know that. "But if you'd bother to ask him, you'd know that he's committed to 5-0, and if you're worried about what impact it may have on his career, I'm pretty sure that having the governor's private number makes for an impressive entry in his personnel file."
"It was never my intention to denigrate your work, Commander, but please try to understand. Although we are no longer married, I still care for Danny and I'd like to see him succeed. I'm probably the only one on this island who truly has his best interests at heart, for Grace's sake, if nothing else."
Steve rubbed his hand over his mouth, wanting to let Rachel know the extent of his relationship with Danny and realizing that Danny would rip him to pieces if he did. "Danny has someone—has people—who care about him very much. I don't think you need to worry about that anymore."
"Who's worried about what?" Danny said from the doorway.
"Nothing," Steve said. Seeing Gracie at Danny's side, holding his hand, he gave her a big grin. "Hey, Gracie, I hear you got a medal at school today."
"Yeah," Danny said, "I told her you were here and she really wanted to see you." He looked down at Grace, nodding his head in Steve's direction. "Go on, Monkey, go show Steve your prize."
Grace let go of Danny's hand and skipped over to Steve's side as he crouched down to her level.
"Wanna see?" she asked.
"Do I want to see?" Steve reared back and placed his hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt. "Of course I want to see it. That's the only reason I'm here. Oh, and your dad, he needed a ride too, so—"
"Yeah, a ride in my own car, thanks. So kind of you, really." Danny stepped around Rachel and joined Steve and Grace, perching on an ottoman to watch Grace untangle the ribbon from her fingers so she could show Steve the medal she'd won at school.
"That is very cool." Steve took the medal and admired it from all sides before handing it back. "You know, I have medals too, but none of them are this cool. Mine are pretty scrawny compared to yours."
Grace giggled as she swung the medal by its ribbon. "Will you let me see them sometime?"
Steve nodded. "Absolutely. Next time you come over, I'll get them down and you can check them out."
"Wow, doesn't that sound thrilling," Danny muttered. "I'd rather watch paint dry, but hey, that's just me."
"Can we make tacos again?" Grace asked. "I promise I won't get get salsa in your hair."
"Sure, we can—" Steve began, then glared at Danny, who was snickering behind his hand. "Oh, you think that was funny?"
"Funny?" Danny echoed. "No, funny is a guy slipping on a banana peel. You, Mr. Big Shot Naval Intelligence, you with salsa in your hair is bona fide hilarious, especially when that big blob of tomato dripped on your ear."
"That was the best part," Grace added.
"Hey, whose side are you on?" Steve teased, sending Grace into another round of giggles. He glanced over at Danny and felt a now familiar lurch deep in his stomach. Danny was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his pale yellow shirt unbuttoned to reveal a hint of the collar bone that Steve had become slightly obsessed with. Their eyes met, both of them remembering that night and acknowledging how much had changed since then.
"I'm sorry, salsa?" Rachel glanced from Danny to Steve, her polite expression clearly stating that she either wanted in on this conversation or for the subject to be changed. Steve's heart sank because as much as he wanted this sweet moment with Grace and Danny to last, he knew that it was an illusion, at least as long as they were in Rachel's house.
"Yeah," Danny said, "there, uh, may have been a slight incident with a jarred tomato product, but no tacos were harmed in the process, I swear."
"Oh." Rachel's smile was perfunctory as she turned to Grace, making Steve wonder if she'd ever understood Danny's sense of humor. "Grace, sweetheart, say goodbye to Commander McGarrett and your dad, it's almost time for dinner."
"Okay." To Steve's surprise, Grace threw her arms around his neck and gave him a quick hug before turning to Danny. Clearing his throat, Steve rose to his feet, the spontaneity of the hug reinforcing the fact that there was more than one Williams in the room who'd captured his heart.
They left soon after, Danny in good spirits but Steve feeling considerably lower. The conversation he'd had with Rachel regarding Danny's shooting had done more than piss him off, it'd made learning the truth behind the story imperative.
It was so damn ironic, Steve thought as he pulled the Camaro out on to the street. There was a lot about his own life in the military that he was barred from sharing with Danny, even though he wanted to. Yet he'd just come this close to interrogating Danny's ex-wife about something terrible in Danny's past, something that Steve had no control over. He couldn't go back in time and prevent Danny from being hurt, he couldn't save him from the trauma of being shot, of almost dying, yet those images were seared in Steve's brain as if he'd been there. Danny'd had years to deal with this, but it was killing Steve inside that someone he loved—that Danny, one of the toughest men he'd ever met—had gone through it at all.
He had to find out what happened.
It was almost a week before Steve was able to follow up on his mission to learn about the convenience store robbery. In that time, he'd gone so far as to look up the account of the incident on the local paper's website, but it had been a typical reporter's view of the robbery. He decided to stop short of calling Danny's old precinct and talking to his captain, but that was a choice of mere self-preservation, because he could imagine Danny's reaction to finding out what Steve was doing—and it wasn't pretty.
But after a week of the usual mayhem, which included saving Hawaii from various threats, arguing with Danny during the day and making love with him deep into the night, it wasn't until their first day off that Steve found a less-than-perfect way to bring up the subject to the one person who could tell him everything he wanted to know: his partner.
Sunday morning found Steve alone in his bed, flat on his back and dozing as he listened to Danny singing in the shower. First wincing and then grinning when Danny reached for a note that was a little beyond his range, Steve kept his eyes closed as he stretched his arms over his head, reveling in the warmth of the morning, the sweet, post-sex lassitude of his body, and a breathtaking contentment he never thought he'd experience. When he'd returned to Hawaii to bury his father and find the man who'd killed him, it had never crossed his mind that he'd stay to make a life here, let alone find himself falling in love with a smack-talking Jersey transplant walking around paradise in a cheap tie and loafers.
Hearing the shower turn off, Steve rolled over on his side, facing the doorway. It'd taken a lot of convincing, but he'd managed to get Danny to agree to give the Marquis another try. Steve was sure—pretty sure, anyway—that he'd solved the problem with the carburetor, so he'd bribed Danny with a promise of the best hamburger on the island if he'd let Steve drive him and Grace to the restaurant in the Merc. Danny's counter suggestion had been that he'd follow behind in the Camaro so he and Grace could wait for the inevitable tow truck in air-conditioned comfort, but Steve had eventually talked him out of it, placing a kiss to a strategic location on Danny's throat to make his point.
The pleasures of the day ahead were floating through Steve's half-awake mind when Danny strolled into the bedroom, damp hair slicked back, a towel wrapped around his neck and wearing a pair of faded cutoffs that were too big in the hips, giving Steve an enticing glimpse of sloping pelvic bones—and a full view of the gunshot scar, pale and gray in comparison to the fresher, darker scar on Danny's shoulder.
"So," Danny pulled the towel off his neck and snapped gently it in the direction of Steve's hip, "you planning on sleeping all day or what? Because as much as I'm looking forward to another ride in that B-52 you call a car—"
"Liar."
"—if you'd rather hang out at home, I'm down with that, too. I can pick up Grace after breakfast and bring her back here."
"No," Steve sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, "I have good feeling about the Marquis today. She's going to run great, I just know it."
"You just know it? Like, the car confided this to you when you kissed it goodnight? And how do you know it's a she? Did you ask or did something you find in the undercarriage make it obvious?"
Steve reached out with both hands, sliding his middle fingers into the belt loops of Danny's shorts and tugging him close to stand between his legs.
"Tell me about the shooting in Jersey." The words were out of his mouth before he could consider the consequences, but once he'd said them, his determination to learn the truth was stronger than ever.
Danny tilted his head forward and to the left, his classic "I heard you, I'm just not sure what I heard" pose. "'Scuse me?"
Steve stroked his thumb across the scar. "This. Tell me what happened."
"Smooth change of subject there, babe. What's with the sudden interest in something that happened years before we ever met?"
Steve looked up into Danny's eyes, still unable to put into words his need to know not only what had happened that night in the convenience store, but that Danny had come out of the ordeal okay—or as okay as he could be, under the circumstances.
Something in Steve's expression made Danny frown as he stroked his fingers through the hair at Steve's temple. "What's going on with you?"
"I don't know, Danny, I just—it's something major that happened in your life, something I don't know about."
"Lots of those kinda somethings, for both of us. No way we can know everything about what happened before we hooked up. I mean, look at you, you got more stuff that you can't tell me about than stuff that you can, right?"
"I'd tell you if I could, man, you know I would."
"Yeah, I know, it's okay, I get it." Danny placed his hands on Steve's bare shoulders. "But that doesn't help you, does it? This is important to you, I can tell."
Steve nodded his head, beginning to feel foolish about the whole thing. Danny was right, they'd both led wildly disparate and sometimes violent lives before fate had brought them to Hawaii—there was still so much to learn about each other, about their families, their dreams and hopes for the future, a future they now faced together. It should have been enough, Steve knew that intellectually, and yet—
His gaze drifted down from Danny's worried face, coming to rest on the reddened slash of skin that marked where the steak knife had sliced through Danny's shoulder.
And that's when he knew.
His phone had rung as he and Chin Ho were leaving the courthouse. Seeing it was Kono, Steve pressed the answer button and lifted the phone to his ear, expecting her to report that she and Danny had finished up their business in Pearl City. What he actually heard was something completely different.
"Yeah, Kono, you and Danny heading back? Chin and I are on our way to—"
"It went bad, boss."
Instead of Kono's usually assured tone, her voice was low and shaky, the words almost sounding like they had to be forced out.
Steve glanced at Chin as they trotted down the steps toward the parking lot. "What went bad?"
"There was a third suspect, he had a knife—Danny's down."
Steve stopped in his tracks, thrusting out his left arm to grab Chin's shirt at the shoulder. "What? What do you mean, down?"
"A knife, the third guy had a knife, he got Danny in the shoulder. Steve, I'm sorry, I didn't see—"
"Kono, Kono, listen to me, okay?" Steve could manage only a shallow breath, his hand twisting in the fabric of Chin's shirt. "Listen to me. I need you to tell me what's going on. Is HPD there?"
"Yeah, uh, yeah, they're here. EMTs, too, ambulance is on the way."
"Okay, okay, good. Is Danny conscious? How bad is it?"
Chin placed his hand over Steve's where it clutched his shoulder. "Steve, what—"
Steve shook his head as he listened, his eyes locked with Chin's as his stomach twisted into knots.
"There's a lot of blood," Kono was saying, "but he's conscious and responding. He's," her voice broke, torn between laughter and tears, "he's more worried about getting the bloodstains out of his tie."
Steve closed his eyes and swallowed before reopening them. "Okay, they're probably going to take him to Kapiolani Med but call me from the road if that changes. Chin and I will meet you there. Listen, Kono, are you okay? Tell me what you need."
"I'm—I'm good, I'm good, no problem." He listened as Kono took a deep, calming breath. "The suspects are all in custody and you were right, one of them does know Desmond. We'll be able to—"
"Forget that." Steve released his grip on Chin and began trotting toward his truck, Chin close on his heels. "This takes priority. We'll meet you at the hospital in ten minutes."
"Right. Danny wants to talk to—wait, Danny? C'mon, Danny, stay with me, stay—Steve, Steve, I gotta go."
"Damn it." Steve stuffed the phone back into his pocket as he climbed into the truck. He started the engine and put the truck in reverse, his mind racing. Danny had been stabbed, but he was going to be okay, he had to be okay—
"No way you can make it Kapiolani Med in ten minutes, brah," Chin said quietly. "No way."
Steve didn't spare him a glance. "I'll make it."
By the time they pulled into the parking lot at Kapiolani Med's emergency department, they'd talked to Kono again and she'd told them that Danny had regained consciousness and was being examined. They sprinted in to the waiting area and found a disconsolate Kono sitting alone, her head bowed, her hands knotted together, and her green henley and jeans smeared black with Danny's blood.
Steve knelt on one knee in front of her as Chin took the chair beside her. Putting his hand on hers, he waited until she lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. "You okay?"
Kono nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine." She slanted a glance at Chin. "I'm just glad you guys are here."
Chin's smile was gentle as he placed his palm in the middle of her back. "Wouldn't be anywhere else, cuz."
"You talk to the doctor yet?" Steve asked, unsurprised when Kono shook her head no. A small part of his brain was impressed that he hadn't walked into the examination room and demanded an update on Danny's condition himself, but he had two teammates in trouble and as long as Danny was getting medical attention, he'd have to be patient. "Okay. I'm going to go see what I can find out. Chin, why don't you take Kono and find a change of clothes, then let's get everybody some coffee. We're probably going to be here a while."
"Got it."
Steve waited until Chin and Kono turned the corner, then marched over the admitting desk and slapped his badge on the counter. The nurse behind the counter looked up from his paperwork, first at the badge, then at Steve.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm Commander McGarrett, 5-0. You have one of my men in the emergency room. I need an update on his condition."
"Yes, sir. Let me—wait, there's Dr. Wong now. Excuse me, Dr Wong?"
Steve turned to see a diminutive woman in blue scrubs walking toward the desk, a clipboard in her hand.
"What is it, Randy?" She gave the clipboard to the nurse, then picked up another from the counter.
"This is Commander McGarrett, he's with 5-0. He's here about the police officer who was brought in with a stab wound."
"Ah, yes." Dr. Wong set aside the clipboard and turned to Steve. "Detective Williams is going to be fine. There is some concern regarding his blood pressure, but I'm not too worried about it, given the nature of his wound. We'll keep him overnight for observation, of course, and you can see him when he's taken to recovery after surgery—"
"Surgery?" Steven snapped. "You said he was okay, why does he need surgery?"
Dr. Wong smiled, unperturbed by Steve's outburst. "I said he was going to be fine, but there was some damage done by the serrated edge of the knife. We're just going to go in and place some micro-stitches in the wounded muscle, a fairly risk-free procedure that will aid in the healing process."
"Okay." Steve put his hands on his hips and bowed his head, gathering his thoughts. He looked up to see Dr. Wong watching him patiently. "Can I see him?"
"No, I'm sorry, he'd already been taken to pre-op. I estimate he'll be ready for visitors in about three hours."
"Three hours, right."
"There's a room upstairs for friends and family with patients in surgery, it's a little nicer than the waiting room down here. You're welcome to stay there until Detective Williams is ready for visitors."
Steve held out his hand. "Thanks, Dr. Wong. We'll do that."
"No problem," she said, giving Steve's hand a firm shake. "Nice meeting you."
As she walked away, Steve turned to Randy. "Excuse me, can you tell me where the restroom is?"
"Sure, go back down the corridor toward the front entrance. It'll be on your left."
"Thanks."
Steve found the men's room easily, walking in and washing his hands until the only other occupant left. Once he was alone, he walked into the nearest stall, closed the door, and vomited up the contents of his stomach.
"I wasn't there."
Danny started a light massage on Steve's shoulders. "You weren't where?"
"That day you were stabbed, I wasn't there."
"No," Danny said patiently, "you were in Honolulu with Chin—what does that have to do with the shooting in Jersey?"
Steve reached up and circled his fingers around Danny's wrists, bringing them down between them. "Nothing, except when I think about that day, the day you got hurt—" Steve release Danny's wrists and scrubbed one hand over his face. "I should've been there."
"Ah, okay." Danny nodded and sat down on the bed beside Steve, raising his hands like a man receiving a revelation from the heavens. "Now it all becomes clear."
Steve gnawed his bottom lip. "It does?"
"Sure. Look, you got control issues, this we know. You also have a protective streak a mile wide and about two miles deep. You put those two personality characteristics together and I'm surprised you don't feel guilty for not being in Dallas when Kennedy was assassinated."
"Well," Steve said with a shrug, "now that you mention it—"
"Plus," Danny continued, "throw in the fact that someone you happen to be nuts about—me, in case you were wondering—is the one who got hurt and I imagine your subconscious gets pretty wrecked over stuff like this."
Leaning back on the bed, Steve propped himself up on his elbows. He was already feeling better for having shared with Danny what was going on his head, but his desire to find out what happened in Jersey hadn't lessened. If anything, now that he'd made the connection to Danny's stabbing, he was just as resolved to hear the story so that he could come to terms with the incident.
"Great," Steve mumbled, "so what you're saying is unless I can convince you to take a nice, quiet job doing something dull like counting coconuts—"
"Not coconuts, Stephen. Remember, they kill people."
"—I'm pretty much screwed."
"That would be my conclusion, yes."
Steve tapped Danny's hip with the back of his hand. "So, can you tell me about the shooting? Or is it too painful? Because if it brings up bad memories, I won't mention it again, I swear."
Danny sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. "No, it's okay. I had to have mandatory therapy before they'd let me back on the squad, so I was able to work through most of it. Still, it's one of those things, you know? You think you're okay with it and then it comes back and bites you on the ass."
"Yeah," Steve murmured, "I hear that."
"Yeah, I know you do." Danny turned his head to meet Steve's eyes. "And that's gonna make this easier. Sit up."
"What?"
"C'mon, sit up. If we're gonna do this, let's get comfortable."
Comfortable to Danny meant Steve sitting up against the headboard, his legs spread so Danny could sit between them, his back to Steve's chest, and Steve's arms wrapped loosely around his waist.
"All right," Danny rested his head against Steve's shoulder, "this is how it went down six years ago. Me and my partner Patrick are on the way home after a night shift and he gets this call from Sharon, his wife, telling him they're out of food for the baby. Been there, done that, so since we're driving together and it's three a.m., I stop at a convenience store so he can take care of business before I drop him off at home."
Danny shifted his hips, his hands moving to illustrate his story. "I walk in first, thinking as long as I'm here, a Slim Jim would not be amiss—"
"Slim Jims, Danny? At three in the morning?"
"It's practically a breakfast sausage, so enough with the food commentary. Anyway, something feels hinky right off the bat but all I can see is the clerk helping someone at the counter. Patrick's already in the baby food aisle, so I get my stuff and start walking toward the counter."
"Are you and Patrick still in uniform?"
"Nah, we changed back at the precinct."
"So, no body armor."
"Nope. So now I'm about halfway down the snack aisle when I notice that the clerk and the customer—a young guy, maybe nineteen—haven't said a word, haven't moved since we got there. That's when I see that the security mirrors have been angled upwards, so they're useless. I try and get Patrick's attention but he's not looking at me, so I say something stupid, something about getting Sharon a Slurpee. He finally looks my way and picks up on the weird vibe, so he starts backing down the aisle, trying to reach his backup weapon without making it obvious, but he can't make it work. We have no idea where this guy might be, so we keep up this dialogue as we move around the store, trying to get eyes on his location, figuring he's behind the counter, but no way to know for sure."
Danny paused and Steve tightened his arms around his waist, his imagination filling in the blanks exactly as he'd expected. There'd been a picture of Patrick Monahan in the article on the website—a fresh-faced kid, only eight months out of the academy, partnered with veteran officer Danny Williams, soon to be detective—and Steve could clearly see the two of them in the store, tired and punchy from their shift, anxious to get home to their families, now faced with a life and death situation.
"Was that where he was? The suspect?"
"Yeah," Danny sighed, "one of them, anyway. They'd been smart with the mirrors, but it must've been obvious that Patrick and I were on to them, because the guy behind the counter stands up and presses the business end of a sawed-off Mossberg to the back of the clerk's head."
Steve closed his eyes and let his head fall back, reminding himself that Danny was okay, that this was in the past. "What happened next?"
"Things get a little crazy after that. The perp orders me and Patrick to come to the front, but he doesn't know that while I was wandering around pretending to look at cat food, I got my backup out of my ankle holster and stuck it in the back of my Levi's, underneath my shirt. I look over at Patrick to get his position, and he's gone."
"Gone?"
"Gone. As in, the lights are on but no one's home. He's just standing there, hands up, white as milk, totally checked out."
"He froze."
"Like a Popsicle. Then the second guy comes out from the back and points a.38 at Patrick's neck. We're all standing there, staring at each other, then the guy with Patrick shoves him toward the front of the store and yells at me to move. They line us up in front of the ice machine and I can tell this isn't going to turn out well unless we can get them to leave before anyone else shows up. The perp with the Mossberg sets it aside and starts gathering up the cash from the open register while the other one keeps an eye on us. Patrick's still out to lunch and the other hostages are getting more freaked by the minute, so I figure I'm on my own. They still don't know we're cops so I get the other three behind me as best I can, hoping Patrick will come to his senses and help me out."
"Okay," Steve murmured. "Then what happened?"
"Patrick, he snaps out of it. He sees the bulge in my shirt, pulls the gun out of my belt, but instead of playing it cool and waiting to catch up with me, he shoves me aside and takes aim at the guy at the counter, the guy with the Mossberg. The guy who didn't have a gun pointed at us."
"Aw, Jesus, Danny—"
"Yeah, so the perp with the .38 takes his shot, I go down like a sack of potatoes, and as the kid behind me tries to get out of the way, he knocks the gun out of Patrick's hand. Everybody's diving for cover, but I manage to grab my weapon off the floor and take out the guy holding the semi-automatic. Patrick's standing there like he's made of stone, so the clerk is actually the one who gets the guy behind the counter. He pushes over the popcorn machine and knocks the dude out long enough to get possession of the shotgun. Not too sure how it actually went down, since all I remember after that is seeing a growing pool of blood beneath my arm and wondering where it was all coming from."
They sat in silence for a moment, then Steve rested his chin on Danny's shoulder. "I asked Rachel about what happened. She said both you and Patrick received commendations."
Danny stiffened. "Wait, you talked to Rachel about this?"
"Yeah," Steve confessed, "while you were with Grace last week, looking at her medal."
"Why her? Why not come straight to me?"
"I don't know, I guess I thought maybe if I heard the story from someone who wasn't involved, it wouldn't be so, so—"
"Real?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." Danny relaxed back into Steve's embrace. "I get that, I do. But now that you've heard the story from me, are you going to be able to move past it?"
"I'm getting there. Tell me what happened to Patrick."
"Ah, Patrick. He's a good kid, he really is. I'd had a few doubts about him prior to that night but I figured it was just rookie nerves, we all get them. I never thought he'd freeze up like that, and neither did he. Lucky for him, the investigation into the incident went his way."
"With a little help from you, I bet."
"Very little. Patrick came to visit me in the hospital and I told him straight up that I didn't think he was cut out for law enforcement, no matter how the review panel interpreted his actions. But he's a bright kid, he figured it out. He came back from disability long enough to make it look good, then quit and moved on with his life."
"That must've been rough."
"Are you kidding me? He went to work for his father-in-law, who just happens to own the biggest new and used car lot in the tri-county area, gave me a great deal on a sweet little Charger, too. Turns out Patrick had a knack for promotion, now he's pulling in six figures and living the high life. Last time I talked to him, he was happier than ever."
"When was that?"
"Right before I got on a plane and followed my daughter and ex-wife to this sunny, sandy paradise you call Hawaii and I once called my worst nightmare. My, uh, my attitude wasn't exactly the best at the time."
Steve laughed softly into Danny's neck. "I can imagine."
"So," Danny squirmed out of Steve's arms and turned to face him, "are you good with this?"
"How could I not be good?" Steve brushed his fingertips over Danny's mouth. "You're here, aren't you? You're here with me, it's another beautiful day, and the Marquis—"
"Again with the car?" Danny scratched his chin, giving Steve a look that made his stomach muscles flutter in anticipation. "I thought we were having a moment."
"We are having a moment, if you'll let me finish."
"Sorry. Please, proceed."
"Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, I've got you here, right where I need you to be, like, forever, and we've got all day with Gracie, and I know you love me, because even when the Marquis acts up—which it won't today, I'm sure of it—you still let me drive the Camaro. I am a happy, happy man, Danno."
"Well, I am glad that you are a happy, happy man. I, on the other hand, am a man in need of some TLC, having just related a story that is personally very upsetting."
Steve frowned at him. "I thought you said you were okay about the shooting."
"Oh, I am," Danny said with a shrug, "I just thought it was a good excuse to keep you in bed for another hour or so."
"Ah." Steve slung his arms over Danny's shoulders, linking his wrists together behind Danny's neck to capture him in a loose embrace. "That's pretty devious, even for you."
"Oh, you think so?" Danny scooted closer and placed his mouth against Steve's as he slid his hands along the bare skin of Steve's hips. "Well, if you find me so devious, why are you still here?"
"Because," Steve slipped his knee between Danny's legs and rolled them over until Danny was on his back beneath him, "as devious as you are, I'm ten times worse."
"Yeah?" Danny grinned at him, obviously pleased with this turn of events. "Show me. Make me proud."
"Is that a challenge, Detective?"
"Challenge, threat, the impassioned plea of a lovesick goof, take it however you want. Just promise me the next time you want to know something about my past, you'll come to me."
Steve stared down into Danny's surprisingly tranquil blue eyes, not wanting to make a promise that could cause Danny pain. "But what if—"
"Scars are just scars, okay?" Danny framed Steve's face between his hands. "Listen to me, you got 'em, I got 'em, but that's all they are, just reminders of the past."
He guided Steve's head down until their lips met in a gentle kiss. "As long as you're here with me in the present," Danny whispered against Steve's mouth, "we're gonna be just fine."
In a lover's sky, all stars are eclipsed by the eyes of the one you love.
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