345And we've come to the end.
Part of the reason that it took me so long to get this final installment up is that I scrapped a few ideas, trying to come up with the perfect ending. I'm not sure I managed to do that, and I'm still not sure I'm completely happy with the end result, but I figured that I owed it to all you readers to post something rather than edit and edit and edit anymore.
I can never, ever say thank you enough for all the reviews, all the support, and all your patience for me through the life of this story. Every single reader, whether you left one review, twenty, or none at all, are the ones that have made all this worth it and I hope you all know how grateful I am for your kind words.
I hope you enjoy this one last ride. It's all for you!
"Cover up, rain down,
We wept on the edge of this town.
It's all I want, it's all we want tonight.
I feel it,
Cover up, rain down,
We wept on the edge of this town.
It's all I want, it's all we want tonight."
"You can't go, it's too soon."
"Danny, when the Secretary of the Navy sends you a letter and asks you to come to Washington, you don't exactly say no."
"You're not up for that kind of journey yet."
"Journey? What is this, Lord of the Rings?" Steve's back was to him, but Danny could picture the smirk on his face regardless. "Next you'll be calling this a quest."
"Steve, you're barely three days out of the hospital after major surgery—major surgery, I might add, to stop you from exsanguinating from the two slugs in your chest. I don't really think a nine hour flight is something your doctors would recommend."
Finally, Steve turned around from where he'd been placing items into the suitcase resting on his bed to face Danny, eyes tired but resolute. "I've already spoken to my doctor, if that makes you feel any better, but even if he wasn't okay with it—which he is—I'd be going. This isn't something I can exactly say no to, even if I cared to."
Steve's placations did nothing to actually placate Danny. "You still haven't even told what this something is. One minute you're recuperating without a fuss, and the next thing I know, I bring in your mail and suddenly you're packing a bag and buying a ticket out of here. By yourself, on a nine hour flight, after major surgery. You could get a blood clot or have a stroke or—"
"Or the plane could crash or I could get into an accident on the way to the airport. There's lots of things that could happen, Danny, but that doesn't mean that they're going to."
Danny sighed and rolled his eyes. "And one of those things that could happen is me tying you to your bed to make you stay here until you don't look like you're going to keel over at any second!"
"You know, I bet if you'd done that with Rachel, you'd still be together."
"God damn it, Steven, will you just be serious and listen to me?" Danny took a deep breath, trying to reign in the urge to strangle his best friend but finding the effort increasingly difficult. "Can you please just respect me enough to tell me what the fuck is going on?"
At that, Steve closed his eyes, nodded, and sat down on his bed, pressing against his chest in a way that let Danny know he was feeling a lot more pain than he was letting on. "I'm sorry, okay? I hate shit like this and it makes me act like an ass sometimes."
"Hate shit like what, Steve?" Instead of responding verbally, McGarrett just reached behind him into his duffel bag and pulled out the Secretary's letter, wordlessly passing it over to Danny. The blonde eyed his partner for a moment, taking in his stance that looked strangely defeated, before opening the envelope in his hand. His eyes scanned briefly over the letterhead at the top, taking in the 'Dear Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett' in such precise and stately font, before he let himself read the body of the message. When he did, he read it a second time to make sure he'd understood, and then he looked back at his partner, shocked. "You're getting awarded the Navy Cross?"
"See why I can't say no?"
"Okay, see your tone and your posture is acting like this is a bad thing, but it seems to me that you're getting an award for doing something that must have been pretty amazing, right? I mean, this is right below the Medal of Honor, so you should be incredibly proud." Danny wasn't going to admit how he knew where the Navy Cross ranked in terms of military awards, wasn't going to admit that pretty soon after becoming partners with McGarrett and seeing all the medals in his office, the ribbons on his uniform, he had looked up everything he could about Naval awards just to get a sense of the things the SEAL had done in his career. And what Danny had managed to piece together was impressive. "Why is this happening now? You've haven't been active since Five-0."
Steve reached out and took back the letter before answering, folding it back neatly into its envelope. "This was part of a joint mission I worked with the CIA, and it was just unclassified. SecNav told me they'd issue it as soon as they could right after they happened, even though I told them I didn't want it. Never did listen to me…"
Danny narrowed his eyes at that, opening his mouth to push back when suddenly another thought popped into his head. "This is going to be a pretty big ceremony, isn't it?"
Steve nodded, still playing absently with the envelope in his hands. "Yeah, the Navy tends to make a pretty big deal out of it, especially when the recipient is alive."
"So there's going to be a reception and all that, isn't there?"
"Probably."
"Then I'm coming with you."
Steve's eyes shot up quickly to meet Danny's at that, followed by a quick, sharp shake of the head. "No, no that's definitely not necessary."
"Really, Steven? Because I think it is. This is something that you take family too, something that you celebrate with the people who love you, who are proud of you. It's not some shameful thing that you hide away, and, frankly, it's a disgrace to all other men who have received this award to act like that. So yes, I'm coming with you, and it also just happens to mean that you'll have someone to watch out for you in your fragile state, since I'm sure you won't mention your post-op state to anyone else that's there."
Steve sighed; pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ward out a headache whose name was surely Daniel Williams. "There's no talking you out of this, is there?"
"Nope, none at all."
"Then pack your best suit, I guess."
In Danny's mind, the less said about their flight to DC, the better.
Steve very clearly did not feel comfortable having Danny along, baggage-handling capabilities notwithstanding. He knew that given the choice, Steve would have made this journey by himself, giving the rest of Five-0 only minimal details about the trip, never revealing the true purpose, never doing anything with the medal but sticking it in a box to be put on his wall next to the others.
Danny knew that it wasn't that Steve wasn't proud of the things he had done for his country, wasn't that he was ashamed of being a SEAL; but the man hated having the attention on himself, hated being fawned over and praised for something that he just saw as his duty. Which Danny got reminded of every time he tried to ask a question about the ceremony or what the award was for: "You'll see, I guess" or "They shouldn't even be doing this, I was just doing my job" or "It's nothing anyone else wouldn't have done" were all standard responses.
And so Steve spent the majority of the plane ride vacillating between anxious and antsy, irritation made better by the pain Danny knew he was in. Of course, he was erringly polite to everyone else, especially those individuals who had thanked him for his service—for though he was flying in plainclothes, you could tell he was military by the blue camo backpack and the stance of his shoulders. But to Danny, he was moody, silent, and it was somewhere over the Midwest where Danny finally gave up trying to talk to him at all.
Danny knew that part of it had to do with the fact that he was even here at all. Steve hated sharing anything personal, hated sharing anything personal about his naval days more, hated being vulnerable most of all. It was something Danny still had trouble accepting after all this time, believing they were close enough to talk about these things, and it was a never-ending source of aggravation that Steve didn't feel the same way.
But he had also learned, if not entirely accepted, that that was just how his best friend was, and so instead of pushing McGarrett to snap out of this funk he'd fallen into, he just relaxed. Told himself that fighting wasn't worth the hassle, and kept calm until they landed in DC, breathing in East Coast air for the first time in way too long.
Danny hadn't asked where they were staying in the city, or how they were getting there, but opened his mouth for the first time since Oklahoma to do just so when they walked into baggage claim and were met with the sight of what was presumably a naval petty officer, holding a sign with McGarrett's name on it. The SEAL just nodded his head in the other man's direction, barely making sure that Danny was keeping up, before walking up to the man and accepting his salute with one of his own.
"Lieutenant Commander McGarrett, I presume?" At Steve's quick nod, the man continued. "I'm Petty Officer Morris Jones, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you. The SecNav wanted me to come here and escort you personally to your hotel and make sure you get settled in."
"Not necessary, Petty Officer, but appreciated all the same," McGarrett responded, sounding more relaxed than he had since they had left Hawaii. "I've never enjoyed taking the Metro from the airport, so you're a welcome surprise."
For a moment, Danny started at his best friend, not quite able to picture the man living here in DC, always picturing him spending all his time living in a rough and ragged tend somewhere in the world. But, he supposed, Steve had to have had a place near base that he came back to, a favorite restaurant or bar that he went to with his teammates, an office that he would have worked at during his time in Naval Intelligence, if only while home. After all this time, sometimes the man he called his best friend was still a stranger to him, a mystery.
Danny's attention only returned to the present when he heard his name. "This is my work partner and friend, Detective Danny Williams." McGarrett tilted his head in Danny's direction. "He decided to accompany me on the trip."
"It's nice to meet you, Detective," Jones replied with a smile, before turning back to Steve. "My understanding was that you were coming alone."
"It was a last minute sort of thing," Steve replied, cutting his eyes to Danny quickly in a way that clearly indicated he wanted no mention made of his injury. "I'm assuming it's not a problem?"
"Not at all, sir. You've got a suite at the Willard, so there will be plenty of room. Shall we go?"
And, and Steve's quick nod, they went.
After Petty Office Jones had taken them to the hotel and gotten them settled to his level of satisfaction, handing Steve an envelope as he left with a simple, "Here's your itinerary, sir," Steve dropped to the couch with a sigh, hand rubbing his chest, stoic façade fading. "Please tell me you packed some pain meds somewhere, Danny."
Danny's eyes widening involuntarily, surprised that Steve was actually asking for the medication he usually shunned, and it took him a second to answer. "Uh, yeah, of course I did. I have the whole spectrum of Advil to what the doctor actually proscribed. You just have to pick your poison."
"Just ibuprofen and acetaminophen, please."
"There's the overly-specific, pain med-eschewing SEAL I know and love. Advil and Tylenol coming right now." Then working on getting the aforementioned pills out, he asked over his shoulder, "You doing okay?"
"Well, as you like to point out, loudly and often, I just got shot, had surgery, and then spent way too damn long on a plane. I'm a little tender in spots."
"Your sarcasm is noted and not appreciated, Steven. I meant more in the mental health way, you jerk—it would take a blind person not to see that you're 'a little tender.' I meant being back here and all. It's been a while."
Steve nodded absently. "Yeah, it has. Before my mission to get Hesse, I had packed up everything I wanted form my apartment in Annapolis, which admittedly wasn't much, and took it with me because I knew it was going to be a while before I was going to be back. Didn't think it was going to be this long, obviously. I never once thought when I left that I'd be going back to Hawaii at the end of it all."
"Did you ever think there was going to be an end?" Danny asked quietly, before he could stop the question from leaving his mouth—before he could decide if he even wanted to hear the answer—thinking of the easy, natural way he had conversed with the petty officer.
For a moment, Steve didn't answer, his eyes far away. "Not really, no. I knew I wouldn't stay a SEAL forever obviously—you know, doing active missions, since there's only so much your body can take—but I never thought I'd leave the Navy, not for anything. I used to get job offers from private security agencies all the time, but I never wanted to go. The Navy was home." He shrugged, finally meeting Danny's eyes with a slightly wistful smile. "I thought I'd probably become a BUDs instructor, maybe transition fully over to the CIA someday, move up the ranks. On those rare occasions that I let myself think ambitiously, CIA Director McGarrett sounded nice, but I also thought I could be effective as Secretary of the Navy. I had outrageous ideas of where I could go, the change I could institute. Obviously, things turned out a little differently than I expected."
"I—" For once, Danny didn't know what to say. He thought about the changes in his life, the differences between where he had pictured himself as a young beat cop and where he was now. Home base being drastically different than imagined—or initially wanted—put aside, he was fundamentally doing the same thing he had always pictured himself doing, had always wanted to do. Moving to Hawaii hadn't drastically altered his life's course, never desiring to leave the force, never wanting to be anything other than a cop in some capacity. But Steve… "I don't think I ever realized what you gave up by coming back after your dad was killed. I know leaving the Navy was hard, but I never realized you had to give up on…well, everything. I never even thought about it, never even thought about how you lost a lot more on that day than just your father."
Steve shrugged again, wincing only slightly at the motion. "I tried not to think of it that way, tried to not let myself go down that road. And it was my choice, obviously. I could have refused the Governor's offer, could have worked my dad's case with you and then gone back. I didn't have to let myself get sidetracked with Five-0. I didn't have to choose to stay, but to be honest, I was overwhelmed, and I felt so much guilt over what happened to my father. I don't know, I think there was part of me that felt like if I just went back, went back to my old life like nothing had even happened, that it would be acquitting myself of that guilt. That, initially, in some way, Five-0 and giving up on, losing—whatever you want to call it—all my dreams and goals was my self-imposed punishment for my part in my dad's murder, for letting my career always come first."
Danny was not only shocked at Steve's frankness, but also at what the other man was revealing. "That's really messed up, Steve." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and letting his words sink in before pushing forward. "First of all, what happened to your day was not your fault. Secondly, he wouldn't have wanted you to do just stop your life out of a misplaced sense of guilt. I may not have known your dad, but as a dad I can say with absolute certainty that no father would ever want their child to give up on his life for them, no matter the reason. You do know that, right?"
Steve laughed quietly, and it drained some of Danny's mounting anxiety away. "I do now. But it took me a while to figure that out, and by the time I did, I didn't want to leave anymore. You guys had become family. I had you, and you let me be this awesome pseudo-uncle to your amazing daughter, and I had Chin and Kono, and for a while, Cath too. I couldn't turn my back on that, so I made new dreams." He looked down at his clasped hands, quiet for a moment. "You guys, the good that we could do with Five-0—it all just sucked me in."
"No wonder you were in such a bad mood for so long," Danny replied, his teasing lacking any heat. "Is that why you don't like talking about your time in the Navy and your missions? And why you didn't want me coming with you? Because it makes you regret your choice?"
Steve's whole demeanor became instantly less relaxed, but finally answered the question despite his unease. "I was a different person in the Navy, Danny. I was tougher, in a lot of ways, and I did a lot of things that, while necessary, were not always pretty. There are things that I did that I don't talk about with you because I don't want you to look at me any differently. Not because it's bad, not how you're probably already assuming, just…" He stopped for a moment, and then sort of changed track, leaving Danny struggling to catch up. "I don't want you to hear something at this reception that makes you think I'm some sort of hero, okay? I was just doing what anyone else would have done, and the real heroes are the ones who didn't come home. All of this-it's behind me. It's who I was, but it's not who I am today. I mean," he backpedaled, "I'm always going to be a SEAL and the Navy is always going to be a part of me, but thanks to you guys, I'm more than that now. I have more in my life now. SO that's why I didn't want you coming, which you probably think is stupid."
"Well, I do think it's stupid because I already know you, warts and all. Also, most importantly, I already know that you're a hero, dumbass, whether you accept it or not. You're a badass SEAL who served our country for over a decade and did super mega awesome things during that time. But more than that, you've kept my daughter safe countless times, even before you had a reason to. So sorry, Steven, but there's a reason I call you Super SEAL. You sort of blew into my life—Chin's life, Kono's life—like some sort of annoying and trigger happy Superman. So you don't have to pretend you're Clark Kent around me, okay? And now you've been all pathetic and I've been too nice to you and it's bizarre. So just, I don't know, deal with the fact that I'm here, alright? Accept that you're loved and appreciated and all that shit. Got it?"
Danny wasn't sure if Steve's attitude had genuinely improved or if he was just hiding his anxiety better, when Petty Officer Jones came the next day, Steve was a lot calmer.
Still ever the Navy man, of course, definitely looking the part that morning in his dress uniform. When he had stepped out of his room earlier, cap in hand, Danny was instantly thrown back to the early days of Five-0, when Steve was still 100% SEAL, still exuding military with every step he took. He still looked every inch the part, still looked ridiculously handsome and like he should be stepping onto a boat at any moment, and Danny couldn't help but feel that rush of nervousness that never seemed to quite go away, the one that told him that one day Steve would change his mind, would wake up and decide that the Navy was where he belonged.
But, like always, he worked to push those thoughts aside, choosing to focus instead on the landmarks passing outside the car window as they drove steadily and quietly towards what Danny assumed was the Navy base. It was hard though, and his worries kept creeping back in, and it took everything in his power not to beg for reassurance again that Steve was happy with them on the island. It was because of this inner turmoil, his jumbled thoughts, that he was just distracted enough that it took him a while to realize that something was wrong.
He wasn't sure what alerted him at first, but all of a sudden, he just knew that something wasn't right, the same way that he always just knew when something was wrong with Grace. He immediately turned from the window to look at his partner. "Steve, you okay?" He was expecting Steve to roll his eyes, give him crap about worrying too much, say something snarky, but instead, Danny was met with wild eyes and slight wheezing, which must have been the thing that had initially caught his attention. "Shit, what's wrong?"
Steve shook his head, obviously trying to contain his panic but not entirely doing a great job. "C-can't breathe super well, and m-my chest hurts."
"It's going to be okay," he told his partner, before leaning forward to tap Petty Officer Morris on the arm. "We need to go to the hospital now?"
The Petty Officer's eyes flew up quickly to look in the rearview mirror, and whatever he saw made him swallow the question that he had been about to ask. "I can get us to a hospital in ten minutes."
Danny nodded, looking back at his partner who had closed his eyes in an effort to regain composure. "Make it five."
Morris nodded, and Danny felt the car accelerate a little more, the speed matching pace to the quick tempo of his heart. He didn't know what was happening, but could guess, could hear the doctor back in Hawaii telling them about the post-op complications that could happen, the blood clots that could form after major surgery. But he knew that voicing any of those fears right now would do nothing, so instead he just grabbed Steve's hand and held it tightly, repeating over and over that it was going to be okay.
When they finally reached the hospital, Morris immediately rushed out of the car and into the emergency room, coming back with what felt like an army of doctors and nurses, who immediately started spitting questions at Steve—Steve, who was too focused on trying to keep breathing to answer the heavy barrage.
So Danny let his voice cut across all of them, stepping up for the man who had stepped up for him so many times in their friendship. "He's got extreme shortness of breath, and he said that his chest was hurting. He's only about a week and a half out of major surgery after being shot."
One of the doctor's already serious face turned a little grimmer at that news, doing nothing to help Danny feel any better. "Where was he shot?"
"In the chest," Danny responded, getting out of the car behind McGarrett, who had already been helped onto a gurney and was being wheeled inside the hospital doors.
"Okay, we're going to do our best to help your friend, sir," the doctor replied, guiding Danny inside the building and past the admitting desk. "There's a family room that I'm going to take you to now and I'll come and update you when I know more."
Immediately Danny protested. "I should be with him—and if he's not able to answer questions, I'll be able to help you."
"We're going to be taking him to radiology immediately, so if there's anything we can't answer by the time we get back, I'll come get you. Please just wait here."
Danny wanted to argue further, protest that he needed to be with his partner, but the doctor was already leaving him in the waiting room with the Petty Officer, already leaving him to refocus on the task at hand. So Danny sighed, tried to let go of some of his anxiety, and then turned to look up at Morris. "You should probably call someone and let them know we're not going to be making it to the ceremony."
Jones nodded, and stepped a few feet away to call, his whispered tones doing nothing to relieve Danny of his anxiety. He'd been in this situation too many times before, so many that he didn't want to count, didn't want to remember all the hospital waiting rooms that he had sat in and wondered over and over again the same thing: was that the last time he was going to see his best friend alive?
He was so lost in his own world that he didn't hear the door open again, didn't notice the doctor until the man had cleared his throat. "Mr. Williams?"
Danny looked up sharply, registering that Jones had too, phone still in hand. "Do you have any news?"
"We've determined that the Commander is suffering from a blood clot in his right lung, most likely as a result of the surgery you decribed earlier. Because of the location of the clot, and the seriousness of his symptoms, we're going to take him the OR immediately. It's probable that the clot formed right after his operation, but wasn't detected then, and now it's grown to the point where it's blocking his vessels. We've had to sedate the commander, so we'll need you to sign the consent forms."
Danny nodded, seeing but not, listening but not. "That's fine."
"Do you have any questions?"
"Is—" He had to pause, swallow past the lump in his throat that had sprung up so quickly. "Is he going to be okay?"
"Obviously I can't promise anything, but I think his chances are fairly good, seeing as you brought him in as soon as he was symptomatic. We're going to do everything we can and I'll have someone come and update you as soon as possible."
Danny nodded, used to the language that doctors pulled out for the next of kin. So he just nodded again and thanked the doctor, looking down at his tightly clasped hands before the man had even left the room.
After a moment, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and for a second he had the idea that it was Chin or Kono, those who were always with him in these situations, before he realized it was Jones. "Detective Williams? He's going to be okay, I'm sure. I don't know the Commander, not personally I mean, but I've heard stories, and I've heard about how tough he is. He's going to be just fine."
That caught Danny's attention. "Stories?"
For the first time, Jones looked a little sheepish. "Commander McGarrett is a bit of a legend in certain parts of the Navy. There are a lot of stories about what he's done—the length he'd go to in missions. He was fearless."
"Or stupid." It was Danny's thought but not his voice that said them. He looked up to see a room full of Navy men standing in the doorway, led by a large man in dress blues. "I always told Smooth Dog that he was a stupid son of a bitch, just to keep that ego of his in check. Swear to god, it never worked though." The man paused a moment, then looked down at Danny. "You must be Daniel Williams. I'm Captain Richard Philips, but you can call me Bullseye. This is the rest of the team—team, meet Daniel Williams." He waved his hand behind him as everyone else filed in and found seats.
Danny's mind was whirling, trying to make sense of this new situation. "How do you know who I am? How do you know Steve?"
"Shit, do you think Smooth Dog stoped talking to all his friends in the Navy just because he got himself a cushy job in Hawaii?"
Well yes, Danny had somehow thought that, but had clearly underestimated his partner's ties to his past community—not that it was something the Jersey detective would ever admit. "No, I just—"
Philips just laughed, though. "I'm just giving you a hard time. Smooth Dog said you were a fun one, but I guess you're probably not in the mood, huh? But little man over there is right—Steve'll be fine. He's made it through worse."
"I know, but it'" Danny responded with a nod. "But it's never easy with him. He, uh, just came out of surgery after taking two in the chest last week."
Philips winced. "How'd that happen?"
"There was a kid—"
The other man nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "There usually is with him." He paused for a second, then went on. "I'm guessing not, since it's him, but did Steve tell you the story behind all this hullaballoo?"
Danny shot a look at this loud man who clearly knew his best friend. "If you know Steve at all, you know that he didn't. Getting him to let me come along was bad enough, let alone getting him to open up about this newly declassified mission."
"Well, if you know Steve at all, you know he's got a soft spot for protecting kids, especially ones that he thinks need saving. I have a feeling that has to do with his sister, and to his own past to an extent. But anyway, we were doing a recon mission with the CIA—I wore bore you with the details, because you can pester him about that later—and we were dropped right outside this village, tasked with hanging out to keep an eye on things and keeping an eye out for a high value target that we had learned visited there frequently. We been down in the village the day before so that Steve could question some of the people there, and he made friends with this kid. He couldn't have been older than fifteen, but he was smart, real whiz kid, and just wanted to talk geopolitics with Steve all day long. Followed us around the whole time we were there, and I tell you, both Steve and the kid loved it. Our boy is a bit of a nerd underneath that tough exterior, and he loved talking all that political science bull with anyone, and especially with a bright young kid who just wanted to see more of the world.
"So anyway, we're sitting up on this ridge right on the edge of the town, not realizing that we had been seen in the village by a Taliban sympathizer who'd let the information get to the right people. Steve was in the middle of telling me some political theory that the two of them had been talking about, getting all giddy about it like a fool, when it just starts raining bullets. Not on our location specifically, but down in the village. Turns out the bad guys thought we were still there, that someone was sheltering us, and decided to make a show of what happened to people who cooperated with the enemy. And of course, it's tearing us apart 'cause those people's only crime was having a conversation with us, and we're too far away and too outnumbered to really help. From what we could see, there were at least a dozen guys going to every house and just…" Philips trailed off for a second, eyes distant and seeing something that had happened long ago. "Anyway, you can imagine what Steve did. Yelled at me to call in for backup, never mind that we were miles away from the nearest base, never mind that help would never get here in time, and then just ran down the hill at full speed towards the village."
Danny sighed; able to see his partner's actions clearly, know the desperation that must have surely been on his face. "So what happened then?"
"Well, I called it in, and then took off after him; I wasn't going to let him take on an entire town of Taliban fighters all by himself, no matter what he thought. But by the time I'd radioed in and caught him to him—I wasn't the fastest, even then—he'd already managed to take out five guys and catch a bullet or two of his own. Once those that were left got wind that someone was fighting back, they got the hell out of there, I guess figuring that they had made their point and that it was better to leave survivors to spread the warning. Or I'm giving them too much credit and they were just chicken shit and didn't want to die like their compatriots. Either way, they left, but not before setting a few houses on fire—one of them just happened to be this kid's and from the screams, we knew that there were people still inside. I tried to go in, since I wasn't injured, but I, uh, I've got this thing about fire and Steve knew that; so instead he gave me an order, told me to round up all the survivors, help who I could, all of that, and then he just went into the house. Bleeding like a nobody's business, but just pushed all that pain aside and went into this burning house to save this kid.
"Damn near died of smoke inhalation, he spent so much time in there, but he got the kid out, got his whole family out of there. And, of course, because he's an idiot, he was convinced that this boy wasn't going to be safe staying there. Kept telling me over and over again as best he could through way too short of breaths that we needed to take him with us, that we needed to protect him because if anything else happened to him or this village because of our presence, that it would be on us and he couldn't live with that. Mind you, the kid's not too lucid what with all his smoke inhalation too, but he made it clear he wanted to go with us and before I could argue that we couldn't just show up with a Afghani boy with us, Steve was literally carrying him out of the village. Of course, Smooth Dog's legs gave out pretty quickly, what with his own injuries to contend with, and stuck me with making sure this kid didn't die out there. Typical of Steve to make the tough decision but make others follow through on it," he added with a smile.
Danny smiled back, his worry about the present overtaken by his immersion in the past for a moment. "Well clearly Steve didn't die out there. What about the boy?"
"Well it wasn't for lack of trying," Philips responded with a grimace. "I got us to a safe place a good distance away and waited for the chopper that was on its way, and it took all the medical training I had to make sure that Steve didn't bleed out right now and make the whole thing even more FUBAR than it already was. And, you know, he managed to make it through emergency surgery and stay unconscious just long enough for me to have to explain to the brass why there was with boy with us and why they needed to give him asylum in the United States."
"And did they? What happened to him?"
"He didn't want to leave his family forever, or his country—he wanted to stay and help the army, help create a better place for people. So he stayed and worked as a translator—still is, I think, but he helped start a school in a neighboring village and does a lot of good work. He was actually going to come and surprise Steve at the ceremony, but something came up at home and he had to stay home."
"Wow." Danny was reeling from all the information that had just been thrown his way, though not surprised at all by the actions of his partner. After all, it wasn't that much different than what had just happened in Hawaii. "A few weeks ago we got this case—I'll spare you the boring details, you can get those out of him later—and there was this kid being manipulated by both his parents, pulled in so many directions I'm not sure he knew which was was up. And things are going downhill fast and the crew the dad was working with was going to take the kid out because they got word that he'd been helping us out in trying to stop everything that was happening. We learn all of this afterward, so when we go to check in on the boy we stroll completely unprepared, right as they're about to shoot the boy. And Steve just pushed the kid out of the way, no vest or anything, and ends up taking the bullets straight to the chest. I drop the rest of the crew, but I swear to God, I thought was about to watch my best friend die on the floor in front of me with how much blood there was. He had major surgery, was in the hospital for a week and then all of a sudden we're hoping on a plane to DC without really any explanation."
Philips gave a low laugh. "That sounds like Steve all right." He was quiet for a moment, and his face turned more somber. "He'll pull through this, though, Williams. A blood clot ain't going to be the thing that brings McGarrett down."
"I'd really just prefer that he has a long and healthy life, but he seems bound and determined to do everything the hard way," Danny replied, worry settling in his gut again like a brick. "Let someone else save the kid every once in a while, you know?"
Philips nodded, his eyes showing his intimate understanding of Danny's feelings. "He's a complicated one, that's for sure. I could honestly never figure out if it was that he genuinely didn't care about what happened to him, or if he just cared too much about everyone else. Either way, it can make caring about him hard."
Danny nodded, turning his cell phone over and over again in his hands, just to give them something to do. "Sometimes I hate him for it, for being so willing to sacrifice himself for everyone else all the time. I love him, for being so wonderful, but I hate that I'm used to the waiting, to the hospitals, that I know how doctors speak when they have something you don't want to hear. If I could just change that, change that instinct of his…"
Philips sighed, a slightly sad smile on his face. "I've had that thought before, but tell me—would you change him? Would you really? To change that instinct of his, to remove his innate willingness to help others without second thought would be to fundamentally alter his character. Believe me, when you get close to McGarrett, all you want to do is keep him in your life and all he seems to do is find new and creative ways to remove himself from it, so I truly do get it. But would you really want to take that lessen it or take it away?"
It was on the tip of Danny's tongue to say yes, to tell this man next to him that he'd been wishing that his partner could be different from the day he'd first met him, but then he held himself and really thought about it. What changing his partner, to dial down that part of his personality, to take away that basic caring element that made Steve Steve, would mean.
As he thought about it, he realized that if he'd gotten his wish all those years ago, he would have saved himself a lot of time sitting in the ER, probably would have saved himself some grey hairs that he'd never admit to. But while that may be true, he also wouldn't have had support at Meka's funeral just a few months after meeting Steve, might have lost Grace without his partner's intervention—a deed done only out of the goodness of his heart. Would have, might not have…
As the list grew in his mind, Danny immediately knew that he wouldn't, couldn't, change a thing about his best friend.
Philips must have seen the realization dawn on Danny's face because he nodded with a knowing smile. "Yeah, I went through that same thought process after that I mission I told you about. Mad as hell, absolutely worried that the kid was going to die, and I couldn't help but sit there and wish to heaven above that the damn man wasn't so ridiculously worried about everyone else, thinking we'd be happier if just cared a little less about them and a little more about himself. And then, right when I started thinking that I ought to beat it out of him when he finally woke up, it started hitting me that all those little things he did for e—giving me his phone time when he knew that it was my kid's birthday, making sure I had a shoulder to cry on when our buddy died—all those things, all those gestures stemmed from how deeply he cares about people. And without that, I'm betting he wouldn't be your best friend, and he sure as hell wouldn't have half the Navy in his waiting room, waiting to see how he is. He'd be—"
"He'd be Nick Taylor," Danny finished for him, finally truly seeing how lucky he was that Steve was exactly all the things he always complained about.
"Yeah, he'd be that asshole. Someone with Steve's skill set needs to have that level of compassion. It's what makes him great, even if sometimes it puts those of us who love him in situations like these. It's a trade off, but it's worth it." Danny nodded without responding, feeling a renewed sense of gratitude for his partner, for his presence in Danny's life. He wasn't sure how to respond, how to express his thankfulness that Philips had made him see, but once again, the other man made it easy for him. "Now, you don't have to go and get all mushy on me or anything. I know it can be…infuriating having to deal with Steve's selfless—"
"—reckless—"
"—sometimes reckless behavior, so I understand the feeling of needing someone else to point it out to you. Like I said, I've been where you are. I know that look on your face."
Danny smiled. "Let me guess, someone helped you along in that realization of yours you were describing earlier."
Philips wry grin made an appearance once more. "You ever met Joe White?"
Danny snorted. "I've had the pleasure."
"Well, I may or may not have had that same conversation that you and I just had in a dusty hospital tent with him at one point."
Danny could almost see that exchange clearly, was about to comment as such, when the doctor finally made his reappearance, his eyes widening only slightly in shock when he took in the much fuller waiting room. "Mr. Williams? I have news on Commander McGarrett."
"You might as well just tell me here," Danny said quickly. "I'm going to tell Captain Philips here regardless, and I can pretty much guarantee that he's going to tell all of these fine folk anyway, so it's just going to be a lot faster if we just do it here."
The doctor smiled briefly before nodding. "Alright then. The procedure to remove the clot from Commander McGarrett's lung was successful, with only minor complications."
"And those complications were?"
"We did have to deal with some bleeding that took a bit longer to get under control than we would have liked, but after a few transfusions, we were able to stabilize him again. The Commander is in the recovery room now, and you'll be able to see him soon. I'll have a nurse come and get you when he's been moved into a room."
Danny nodded, starting to breathe easier than he had in hours. "So he's going to be okay?"
The doctor nodded again. "Obviously we never like to have complications during procedures, but his pressure is good and we're monitoring him very closing. He's going to be just fine."
"Thank you," Danny replied with a nod of his own and a deep breath. "Thank you for saving him."
"Well, he did the hard part—we just put him back together."
Hours had passed, and Danny found himself once more in the familiar position of sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to his slumbering partner, having just promised Philips that he would keep everyone posted about any changes in Steve's status. It was late and the hospital was fairly quiet, the only dominant sound now being Steve's slow and steady breaths.
Earlier, the room had been full of barely contained buzzing, everyone from the waiting room having followed Danny to Steve's room as soon as it was ready, piling in and swapping Smooth Dog stories and waiting for the subject to open his eyes. Of course, in true McGarrett fashion, the SEAL neglected to grace any of them with his presence, leaving Danny to be consumed with worry, petrified that something had gone wrong. It wasn't until the doctor came in and assured all of them that it was completely normal, that Steve's body needed the rest to recuperate, that Danny was able to sit back and listen to their stories about his partner with glee.
Still, Danny couldn't help but worry until McGarrett's perfect timing pulled through, finally waking up right as everyone was preparing to leave. That had led to some great rejoicing, a bit of ribbing, and a whole of of smiling before Steve had fallen asleep once again.
Everyone had left not too long after that, leaving much quieter than when they had come in, Philips squeezing Danny's shoulder in solidarity on his way out. And then, it was just Danny and the silence.
He had refused to leave, telling the doctors that he didn't give a damn about visiting ours, that Steve would need someone there when he woke up again, that he wasn't leaving his brother's side. It took some wheedling and begging, but finally he convinced the doctor that it was in Steve's best interest if he stayed and had calmly and assuredly parked himself next to his partner's bedside. Now, though, the long day was catching up to him and Danny couldn't manage to stifle his yawn. Needing to move or risk falling asleep in the painful position he was in, Danny stood up and stretched, moving to the sink in the corner of the room to grab some water and maybe wash the grit out of his eyes the best he could.
Just as he did so, the door popped open and a smartly dressed woman stepped in the room, carrying a small box in her hands. Danny's first instinct was to think danger, but he calmed and stayed in the shadows as Steve sat up in bed, SEAL senses always sharp, and said in a rough voice, "Madame Secretary," and snapped a quick salute.
The woman shook her head quickly, before saying, "I think we can dispense with the formalities, Lieutenant Commander. Lie die, for heaven's sake. I can see from here that you're tired." Then, with a small sigh, she took the seat Danny had just vacated. "You never did like award ceremonies, Steve, but I have to say, surgery is a little extreme of an excuse, even for you."
Steve smiled, his expression light and open. "Well, you know me, Ma'am. Never one to make a fuss of be the center of attention."
SecNav snorted. "No, clearly not. That's just why half the Navy, the CIA, and all of SEAL Team Six were in the waiting room earlier."
Steve's smiled faded a bit. "My apologies for ruining your ceremony."
"Oh, you're not a bit apologetic at all. I'm surprised you even made the trip out."
Steve shrugged, almost managing to hide his wince. "You've been nagging me enough about it, Ma'am."
"Well, it doesn't set a very good precedent for my command if I can't get one wayward SEAL to listen to me." She paused for a second, pushing her curly hair away from her face. "You sure I can't convince you to come back? We could use you."
"I appreciate the offer, but no. I'm happy where I am now, Ma'am. I've got a good team, and I've finally put down roots. I couldn't leave now."
"It was worth a shot," she replied with an affectionate grin, before standing up and handing Steve the box she had carried in with her. "Your medal is in there—I figured I'd just give it to you now instead of seeing what carzy stunt you'd put next to get out of another ceremony." She laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "You take care, Steve."
McGarrett nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. Thank you."
The Secretary nodded once, and then with another small smile, she was gone, the door slowly closing behind her.
Danny waited a moment to see if Steve would notice him, and when he didn't, the shorter man took a step forward into the soft light from the window. "So you're pretty chummy with the woman who runs the entire Navy."
The slight increase on heart monitor next to Steve's bed was the only physical indication that Danny had actually managed to startle his partner, though Steve's voice was a little shaky when he spoke. "Jesus, Danny, I knew you had ot be around the hospital somewhere, but I didn't think you'd be lurking in the dark."
"I needed water when she came in—I didn't want to interrupt. But, like I said, you seemed pretty comfortable with her."
Steve sighed, tipping his head back against his pillow, even as he nodded. "I worked with her before, especially when I was in Intelligence. She was a mentor of sorts, at times."
Danny mulled over that as he moved back to his chair. "She seemed to want you back."
The SEAL peeled one eye open. "What, are you jealous?" After a second and a smile, Steve closed his eye again and then said, "I'm good at what I do—what I did, whatever. I was an outstanding SEAL and I did a lot of good in Naval Intelligence. She'd be terrible at her job if she didn't try to recruit me back."
"Uh huh. And you meant what you said? That you're happy where you are, I mean."
This time Steve's tone held a note of irritation. "How many times to do I have to tell you, Danny? I'm not leaving Five-0."
"But you talk about the Navy like you miss it so much."
"You miss Jersey, don't you? But you're not going back there, right?"
Danny shook his head quickly. "No, but that's differently. I've got Grace and Charlie on the island. I couldn't leave them."
"And I've got you. And Grace, and Kono and Chin. I care about you all too much to just abandon you guys. I'm happy."
Steve's words brought Danny right back to his conversation with Philips. "Don't change, okay?"
That got McGarrett's attention, the injured man looking at Danny quizzically, eyebrows raised. "That was an abrupt change of subject."
Danny sighed, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I know I give you shit a lot, about needing to be different or calming down or being less you sometimes, but just ignore me, okay? I don't mean it, not really. I mean, I do in a way since I want you to take better care of yourself, but I don't. Not really. Because you caring so much about people—people you don't even know—is why I'm still living on that damn island and in an actual home, and why so much good has come from Five-0. So just, I don't know, know that when I yell at you that you need to not be so crazy and whatever that I really just love you and worry about you, and that I appreciate you just the way you are."
Steve looked at him levelly for a moment, silent. "Did you smoke something while I was in surgery?"
"I'm serious, Steven."
"I know you are, that's why it's weird."
"Never mind, forget it, I take it all back!" Danny sat back in his chair in a huff, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
"Hey, Danny, I'm sorry, okay? It's just—you surprised me is all. Normally you're telling me that I'm being dumb and reckless, not doing things right."
"Yeah, well, I spent some time with some buddies of yours and it made me realize a few things, okay? And one of those is that I need to be grateful that you're not a crazy, super talented soldier that will sell your services to the highest bidder, and instead you use your powers for good."
"Philips," Steve murmured, scowling slightly.
"Philips," Danny confirmed. "So just keep being yourself—although you could try to not get shot as much."
Finally, Steve's expression opened up into a genuine smile. "Got it. And Danny?"
"Same goes for you. Although, you don't get shot nearly as much, but still. I love you, buddy."
Danny grinned, glad that the dark hid the overt affection on his face. "You too, you big lug. Now go back to sleep—Philips and the others told me some great stories and I want you alert enough in the morning to answer all my questions."
And there we have it! It took me much longer than I anticipated to get this anthology complete, and it's seen me through the last year of college, graduation, and starting/adjusting to my first full time job. Like I said before, I appreciate every single review you guys ever left, and I hope this story ended things as you wanted.
But, of course, it's not the end.
I'm going to get working on a very similar type of anthology to Imagine Dragons' second album, Smoke and Mirrors. I've already got some ideas in my head, as well as those that some of you have sent me (and feel free to send me more!). My goal is to get the first story posted soon, but I'm going to try to get ahead on writing them so that there's not such long waits for new posts. So while this may be the end of Night Visions, never fear-there is more coming. As I'm sure you've realized, I could never stop whumping Steve.
Y'all are amazing.
Charlotte
