3 Years

by LoveAtFirstFight50

Summary:

"Three years. That number has shaped Danny’s life in ways he never imagined—three years since Steve left, three years since his world fell apart. After struggling through pain, anger, and sadness, Danny has pieced his life back together. He loves his kids, his job, and believes he’s finally found happiness again. But when a new investigation stirs up old memories, Danny begins to question whether he’s truly moved on—or if his heart has been waiting all along."

Notes:

This story is a work in progress... I've already written about three-quarters of it.
I don’t know how many chapters there will be in the end... It depends on Steve and Danny =)

Chapter 1

Danny steps out of his parents’ house, and the cold smacks him right in the face, sharp and unforgiving, like it’s trying to remind him where he came from. He calls back over his shoulder for what feels like the tenth time, “Yes, Ma, I swear, next time I’ll bring Charlie. Maybe even Gracie if I can convince her. Love you, Ma, Pa!” He pulls the door shut behind him, the warmth of home disappearing in an instant, and shoves his hands deep into his pockets. The wind is relentless, biting at his face and sneaking past the collar of his jacket no matter how tightly he pulls it. His breath puffs out in visible clouds as he trudges forward, the familiar sidewalks of his hometown stretching out ahead of him.

It’s always like this when he visits—nostalgia mixed with just enough discomfort to keep him from staying too long. As much as he loves New Jersey, the city that shaped him, Hawaii has spoiled him. He’s used to the sun, the sand, and the kind of warmth that wraps around you like an old friend. But this place? This place is different. It’s not warm or gentle—it’s raw, unpolished, and, in a way, honest.

New Jersey will always be home, even if it doesn’t feel like it anymore. It’s the place he carries with him, tucked away in the corners of his memory, showing up in the way he talks, the way he thinks, and sometimes, the way he fights. It’s his madeleine de Proust, a place that makes him feel like a kid again, even when he doesn’t want to.

The wind picks up, and he hunches his shoulders against it, muttering under his breath about how it could still be this cold in January. His boots crunch against the frost-covered sidewalk as he walks, the streets around him as familiar as his own reflection. He knows every crack in the pavement, every corner where he used to play stickball with his friends. It’s muscle memory, like he’s been here all along, even though it’s been years.

He glances down at the file open on his phone, the real reason he’s here. It’s a case—a missing kid, barely three, vanished with her mother from Hawaii. A lead drove him here, to New Jersey. These kinds of cases always get to him, make his chest feel tight and his stomach twist. He hates the way they hit so close to home, but that’s why they matter. If it were Charlie, if it were Grace, he’d want someone to keep looking, to care enough not to stop.

His parents are getting older, and he tells himself that’s why he visits more often now—to make sure Charlie and Grace have time with them, to soak up whatever moments they have left. But it’s not just about them. It’s about him, too. There’s something grounding about being here, even when the cold cuts through him and the memories sneak up in ways he doesn’t expect.

He turns onto North Street, the cold air making his breath fog up in front of him. His mind is split between the details of the case and the memories bubbling up with every step. The scent of something baking down the street makes his stomach grumble, and the faint honk of a car horn snaps him back to reality. The frost crunches under his boots, the sound grounding him in the here and now.

And then he sees it.

Something makes him stop mid-step, his breath catching for reasons he can’t quite explain. It’s just… there, in front of him. The kind of thing that makes your chest tighten and your heart pick up, like
the universe decided to tap you on the shoulder. He doesn’t know why, but he knows he won’t be forgetting this moment anytime soon.

 

---

 

Life has a way of moving on, of shifting and reshaping itself like the tide sculpting the shore. People change. Families grow. Days blur into months, then years, until you look back and realize how far you’ve come. Life doesn’t stop, even when you wish it would, even when the pieces you thought were immovable fall away. It keeps moving, relentless and indifferent, until the rhythm becomes your own again.
Danny knew this now in a way he hadn’t before. He had lived it—every painful, beautiful, frustrating second of it. Life had evolved around him, even as he struggled to find his place in it.

Steve had left. After being shot by Daiyu Mei, he had disappeared—vanished down the shoreline, the horizon swallowing him up like the tide pulling at sand. He’d walked away that day on their beach, leaving Danny behind in the golden glow of a Hawaiian sunset that felt colder than it should have. Of course, Steve had said he’d come back. “I’ll be back,” he’d promised, his words steeped in that quiet, unshakable certainty that only Steve McGarrett could conjure. Back then, Danny had believed him with everything he had. Steve had always been his constant, his North Star—the immovable force in Danny’s ever-chaotic life, the man who stayed, no matter the storm.

But promises, Danny had learned, were fragile things. They splintered under the weight of absence, became ghosts when the one who made them wasn’t there to keep them.

At first, the distance hadn’t seemed like a final blow.

They’d kept in touch—weekly calls, sometimes more. Steve’s voice was the same as always: steady, a little gruff, but with that familiar warmth Danny could feel in his chest like an old favorite song. Steve would ramble about the places he was exploring, the things he was figuring out about himself. Danny, ever the cynic, would roll his eyes, throw out sarcastic quips, but underneath it all, there was an ease between them. It felt unbreakable, like an invisible thread tethering them across the miles.

They texted, too—little snapshots of life. Grace’s latest accomplishment, Charlie’s crooked grin as he clutched a sandcastle bucket too big for him, Danny’s weather complaints. Steve would fire back with teasing remarks or a quick, amused response. It was enough. For a while.

But then the thread began to fray. The calls grew sporadic, the texts sparse, until one day they stopped altogether. Steve drifted, a ship caught in currents Danny couldn’t follow.
Danny tried to hold on. God, he tried. He’d send those familiar texts, their old joke: “Still alive?” At first, it worked—Steve would reply, sometimes call. But even those moments became fewer, until silence settled like dust over Danny’s phone.

At first, it hurt—raw and aching in a way Danny couldn’t explain, even to himself. But time, relentless and indifferent, smoothed the edges of that pain. Slowly, it hurt less.
Three years. That’s how long it had been since Steve left. Three years that stretched like a lifetime, each moment both too long and too short.

The first year had been brutal. Healing from his injuries was hard enough—the endless physical therapy sessions, the sleepless nights filled with pain that felt sharper than the bullet itself, the slow, frustrating process of regaining strength in a body that no longer felt like his own. But healing from Steve’s absence was something else entirely.

It was quieter, harder to pinpoint—a dull ache that settled deep in his chest, lingering in the spaces Steve used to fill. It wasn’t just the loss of a partner or a friend; it was the loss of a presence, a steady hand on his shoulder, a voice that balanced his chaos with calm. Danny felt unmoored, like someone had ripped up the foundation beneath him and left him adrift in unfamiliar waters. The days felt endless, heavy with silence that used to be filled with Steve’s maddening, infuriating, reassuring presence.

And yet, time didn’t stop. The world kept turning, dragging Danny along with it whether he was ready or not. The kids needed him—Charlie’s wide-eyed curiosity, Grace’s determined strength—and he
needed them, too. They became his anchor when everything else felt uncertain, their laughter and bickering pulling him back to the surface on the hardest days.
Danny couldn’t stop, even when he wanted to. Life wouldn’t let him. And slowly—painfully—he started to piece himself back together. Not in the same shape as before, but in a way that worked, that let him keep going. Because he had to. For them. For himself. For the life that, no matter how much it hurt, kept moving forward.

When Lou retired, it was another gut punch—a reminder of how much had changed, how much Danny had lost. But it also forced him to reevaluate. He wasn’t the same man he’d been when Five-0 had started. The task force was a revolving door of fresh faces and new energy, but Danny realized he didn’t belong anymore. He was a relic of another time, holding on to something that no longer existed.
So he made the choice to leave. Quietly, without fanfare. He didn’t tell Steve. It wasn’t anger or bitterness; it just didn’t feel relevant. Steve was gone, living a life Danny wasn’t part of.

The months after leaving Five-0 were strange, like learning to walk again on unfamiliar ground. But Danny found his footing. With Kamekona’s help, he opened a private detective agency, focusing on finding missing children. The work was grueling, often heartbreaking, but it gave him purpose. His office became his sanctuary, a space that let him be present for Charlie while still making a difference.
It wasn’t easy, but it felt right. Danny built a life—a real one. He had work he cared about, kids who filled his days with laughter and chaos, and a sense of stability he hadn’t felt in years.

And yet.

There were still nights when his mind wandered, when he’d lie awake wondering where Steve was, if he ever thought about Hawaii, about Danny. Those moments were fleeting now, whispers of an ache that no longer consumed him. But they were there, woven into the quiet hours.

Even Charlie and Grace had moved on, in their own ways.

Charlie was 12 now—no longer the chubby-cheeked little boy who clung to Danny’s leg at every drop-off. He was growing into himself, lanky and bright, with a sharp wit that reminded Danny of someone he didn’t like to name. But sometimes, Danny caught him staring at old photos of the team, his fingers brushing the edges like he could pull the memories back into focus. Charlie didn’t ask about Uncle Steve anymore, but the questions were still there, hovering unspoken in the spaces between.

Grace, at 21, was thriving. She’d always been the strong one, the steady one. Now, she was carving her own path, studying to become someone Danny was endlessly proud of. But even Grace, with her wisdom and grace beyond her years, had carried the weight of Steve’s absence. She’d looked up to him like a second father, and losing him had been a quiet heartbreak she didn’t often speak of. Still, Danny saw it—in the way her voice softened when his name came up, in the way she avoided certain topics, as if saying them aloud might reopen old wounds.

It made Danny angry sometimes—not for himself, but for them. Steve had been so much more than a friend to Danny’s kids; he’d been family. And then he’d left, like they hadn’t mattered. Danny tried to let go of the anger, to focus on the life he was building, but sometimes it lingered—sharp and bitter, like an old wound reopened.

Still, life moved forward—not in dramatic leaps, but in small, steady steps. There were moments when Danny felt the old ache creeping back, like a shadow stretching long in the fading light. But those moments didn’t define him anymore. They were fleeting, reminders of a past he’d lived and let go of.

When he caught Charlie staring at old photos of the team or heard Grace reminisce about a memory that included Steve, it didn’t cut as deep as it once had. Instead, it was bittersweet, like hearing an old song you used to love but no longer needed. He reminded himself—and his kids—that they were okay.

Because they were.

The nights when Danny stood on the beach, watching the waves roll in, he let himself feel the pull of the ocean and the memories it carried. But it didn’t stop him from turning around, from walking back toward the life he’d built—a life that, while imperfect, was still his.

---

The part that had been hard—but helpful, too—was moving out of that haunted house. Steve’s house. Past one year of absence, Danny just couldn’t stay there anymore. At first, staying seemed like the right thing to do, like holding on to the house would somehow hold on to Steve, like keeping it would preserve the last traces of him. As if the house itself could keep him alive in some quiet, unseen way.

But as the months dragged on, the silence grew heavier. It crept into the corners and filled the space where Steve’s voice used to be, where his laughter had once echoed. Every corner of that house had become a reminder—not just of Steve, but of what Danny had lost.

The couch where they used to collapse after long days, trading jabs and complaints over beers. The kitchen, where Steve would hover, pretending not to care about Danny’s relentless critique of his cooking, though the little smirk tugging at his mouth always gave him away. The beach just outside, where the salty breeze carried unspoken words they never quite found the courage to say aloud. It wasn’t just a house anymore; it was a mausoleum.

Danny had healed, at least on the outside. The physical wounds were gone, but staying in that house, in Steve’s house, surrounded by Steve’s ghost—it wasn’t healing him inside. It was anchoring him to grief, tying him down to the past when what he really needed was to move forward. Leaving felt like betrayal, like giving up on the one thing he still had left of Steve. But staying? Staying was suffocating him.

It hadn’t been easy. Packing up his life felt like tearing himself apart, memory by memory, piece by piece. Every box was another goodbye, another moment of his life with Steve tucked away into something that could be carried out of the house but would always live in his heart. Grace and Charlie had been his saving grace—no pun intended. Grace had been steady, as always, making a game of the packing, helping him sort through what to keep and what to let go. Charlie had filled the spaces with his endless chatter, distracting Danny just enough to keep the task from crushing him.

When the last box was loaded and the door shut behind them for the final time, Danny stood on the front porch for a moment. The air felt different, like he was finally breathing for the first time in a long time. Not deeply, not yet, but enough. Just enough to remind him he was still alive.

The new house was smaller, quieter. It wasn’t near the beach, and Danny didn’t mind. He wasn’t ready for the sound of waves just yet. The first night there, they sat cross-legged on the floor, takeout cartons spread out between them, half-unpacked boxes stacked haphazardly around the room. Grace teased him mercilessly about his lack of organization, the way he never labeled anything, and Charlie—sweet, sleepy Charlie—fell asleep mid-sentence, his little head resting against Danny’s shoulder.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Danny felt something spark inside him. Not joy, not exactly, but something quieter and gentler. Peace, maybe. Or the possibility of it.

The days turned into weeks, and slowly, the new house began to feel like home. It wasn’t the same kind of home he’d had with Steve—how could it be?—but it was warm, solid, and theirs. A place for new memories, new beginnings, without the echoes of the past haunting every step.

Now? Now, Danny’s happy. Not in the loud, obvious way that comes with big, sweeping changes, but in the quiet, steady way that comes when you build a life you’re proud of. He’s got a job he loves, one that challenges him but doesn’t consume him, one that lets him help families find the kind of peace he’s finally found for himself.

Looking back, the restaurant idea seems like a joke. A ridiculous dream he never really wanted, if he’s honest. A pipe dream Steve had latched onto and blown wildly out of proportion, like most things in their lives. Steve always had a way of turning Danny’s ideas into chaos, sometimes for the better, sometimes not. Luckily, they’d both realized the truth before they went too far: Danny didn’t want to own a restaurant. It wasn’t who he was. This job, though—finding missing kids, reuniting families—it feels like home in a way that no house ever could.

His life feels good. Balanced. Full. He runs most mornings, plays basketball with Charlie, and still manages to keep up with Grace, even though her visits from college are fewer and farther between now. He’s inching closer to fifty, but he’s in good shape—better than most guys his age, if he does say so himself. Women flirt with him, leave their numbers on receipts or napkins, and Danny? He’s flattered. He’s not a monk, after all.

He calls sometimes. For a night or two, maybe three. Nothing serious, nothing lasting. Just enough to remind himself that he’s still here, still alive, still capable of feeling something, even if it’s fleeting. Those nights are light, uncomplicated. On his terms. And when they’re over, he’s content to go back to his routine, to the life he’s built.

Grace always rolls her eyes when she visits. “Dad, you’re not that old. You should get out more.” She says it with a teasing grin, but Danny knows she worries.
“I get out plenty,” he always replies, smirking as he waves her off. “I’ve got a life, Gracie. A full, fulfilling, completely satisfied life, thank you very much.”

And he means it.

Because he’s happy. Not in the way people think of when they imagine happiness—big, bold, and full of fireworks. But in the quieter, steadier way. The kind that comes after the storm, when you’ve rebuilt yourself, brick by brick, into something stronger.

Danny has built a good life. One he’s proud of. One that feels like his.

And for now, that’s enough.

-

Chapter 2

The case had landed on Danny’s desk a few weeks ago, lingering there like a bruise he couldn’t stop pressing on. A missing child—barely three years old. It was the kind of case that kept you up at night, imagining all the worst possibilities because you had to. Because if you didn’t, who would?

The father had come to Danny on a gray morning, the kind that seemed to leech the color out of the world. He’d been shaking, shoulders hunched like he was carrying something too heavy for him to bear alone. Tears filled his eyes, not the angry kind, but the hollow kind—the kind that came from a place so deep inside you wondered if they’d ever stop.
“She’s gone,” the man had said, his voice cracking in a way that stuck with Danny long after he’d left. “Her mother… she took her. Disappeared. I don’t know where. I don’t know why.”

Danny had seen cases like this before, too many to count. Custody disputes that turned into nightmares. Parents turning their children into collateral damage, their lives a battleground. But there was something about this one—something about the man’s voice. There was no venom, no anger laced between the words, no accusations spat out in a bid for sympathy. Just desperation. Raw and aching. A father who wasn’t looking for revenge or retribution—just his little girl.

Danny had done his due diligence, the way he always did. He’d gone through the man’s life with a fine-tooth comb, looking for anything that might explain why a mother would take such a drastic step. Abuse, violence, anything dark enough to make someone run. But there’d been nothing. The man’s past was clean. His life, unremarkable. His story, painfully simple: he wanted to find his daughter. He wanted to know she was safe.

Still, Danny couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his gut. The father’s details were... thin. Almost painfully so. He had no photos of his daughter, nothing concrete to offer beyond fragments of recollection. Just memories that felt like they’d been left out in the sun too long, faded and brittle, edges blurred by time and pain.
“She’s got blond hair,” he’d said, his voice almost apologetic. “Or… she did. It might’ve darkened.” He’d paused then, looking down at his hands like they’d betrayed him. “Her eyes… they’re blue, I think. Or maybe green?”

It had been hard to hear. Hard not to feel the sharp edge of judgment, even as Danny tried to push it down. This man had brought him a mystery instead of a child, and yet he couldn’t ignore the way his voice shook or the way he gripped the edge of Danny’s desk like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

The search had started locally, spiraling outward like a ripple in a pond. But it didn’t take long for Danny to realize Margot—if that was even her real name—had vanished. No social media, no financial trail, nothing to suggest where she’d gone or why. It was like she’d erased herself. He’d leaned on his network, asking for favors, chasing leads. It was slow work. Agonizing work. But eventually, there’d been a break.

A woman in her mid-thirties, living under the name Margot Thorn in downtown New Jersey. Her appearance didn’t quite match the description the father had given, but she wasn’t alone. With her was a young child—a little girl whose features seemed to echo the faint, fragmented memories the man had shared.

What bothered Danny most, though, was the absence of photos. No pictures of the woman. None of the child. No digital footprint. It wasn’t just unusual—it was deliberate. People didn’t erase themselves like that without a reason.

Now, with the address in hand, Danny had made the call. He’d go himself. New Jersey wasn’t far, and it gave him an excuse to visit his parents. Two birds, one stone.

Walking the streets of his childhood now, the case file open on his phone, Danny felt the weight of it pressing down on him. It wasn’t just the job, though that was heavy enough—it was the way this case felt personal. Too close to home.

A missing child. A mother on the run. A father left behind, clinging to scraps of hope. It stirred up memories Danny had spent years trying to bury. Of fights with Rachel, of courtrooms and custody agreements, of long, sleepless nights staring at the ceiling and wondering if the phone might ring with news he didn’t want to hear.

Grace had been his anchor through all of it. The thought of losing her had felt like drowning, like the air was being stolen from his lungs. And now, hearing another father’s desperate pleas, it all came rushing back—the fear, the helplessness, the ache.

Danny tightened his grip on his phone and forced himself to focus. The address was close now, just a few blocks away. He couldn’t afford to get lost in his own ghosts. Not today. Not when there was a little girl who needed him to focus, to get this right.

He took a steadying breath and set his jaw. Whatever waited for him at that address, he’d face it head-on. He always did

-

He turned onto North Street, the cold a sharp knife against his cheeks, cutting through the wool of his scarf as if it weren’t there. His breath escaped in uneven clouds, each puff dissolving into the winter air like a fleeting thought. His boots crunched against the packed snow, a steady rhythm that barely registered. His mind was elsewhere, consumed by the task that had brought him here. North Street, the park, the woman and child—they were supposed to be close. His chest tightened, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him like a stone.

And then, he saw it.

A small park, unremarkable yet strangely picturesque, carved into the urban sprawl like a hidden promise. Rows of brick buildings framed its edges, their weathered facades softened by snow clinging to windowsills and ledges. Within, a playground stood stark and quiet, its swings motionless, a testament to the stillness of the day. On a bench near the center of it all sat a woman, her figure bundled in layers, her face partially obscured by the brim of a knit hat. Beside her, a little girl toddled through the snow, her tiny boots kicking up sprays of powder with each enthusiastic step. Her laughter rang out, pure and unrestrained, carried on the crisp winter air like music.

Danny’s steps slowed, his eyes narrowing. A simple scene. A mother, her child, and a man—not unusual, not on the surface. But something about it caught him, held him in place. The picture was too idyllic, too neatly contained. His instincts stirred, that quiet hum in his gut that always told him when something was off. He let out a slow breath, his pace natural but his movements deliberate, his focus sharpening as he drifted closer, careful not to disturb the moment.

The woman’s red hair was the first detail he registered. It didn’t fit the description he’d been given—the color was too bold, too striking. But Danny wasn’t one to jump to conclusions. Hair dye was cheap; disappearing was harder. His gaze shifted to the child, and something inside him twisted. She matched the description almost perfectly. Blond hair framed her round, glowing face, her eyes alight with the kind of wonder that only existed at that age. Her smile was pure sunshine, infectious and bright, and it struck Danny somewhere deep, the place he tried to keep locked away.

But he wasn’t here for sentiment.

He studied the woman again. On the surface, she seemed at ease, even playful, but her body told a different story. Her shoulders were too stiff, her movements too precise, her gaze darting constantly to the edges of the park. She was scanning, checking, bracing. Danny recognized it instantly: the posture of someone on the run, someone afraid. His jaw tightened, the knot in his stomach twisting tighter.

And then, his attention shifted.

The man.

Danny hadn’t noticed him at first, crouched low beside the little girl, his dark coat blending into the muted colors of the park. But when he rose to his full height, brushing snow from his knees with an easy, fluid motion, Danny’s heart stuttered. The man’s movements were unhurried, his posture loose yet deliberate, as though he’d long ago mastered the art of blending in. But there was no mistaking the silhouette. Broad shoulders, strong frame, that innate grace of someone always ready for action.

Danny froze.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, the world narrowed to a pinprick. That profile, that effortless confidence—it was burned into his memory, as familiar as his own reflection. His pulse roared in his ears as his mind struggled to make sense of what his eyes were telling him. It couldn’t be.

But it was.

Step by step, Danny moved forward, though he wasn’t entirely sure how. His body carried him while his mind lagged behind, stuck in the chaos of disbelief. He reached the entrance of the park and stopped, his boots scuffing against the icy pavement. His chest felt hollow and full at once, his breath shallow as he stood there, staring.

And then, the man looked up.

It was subtle at first, a glance over his shoulder, quick and instinctive. Then his head turned fully, his brow furrowing as his gaze scanned the park. When their eyes met, Danny felt the air leave his lungs.

Steve.

The name echoed in his mind, sharp and soft all at once. He hadn’t said it aloud, but it hung there between them, unspoken yet undeniable. Steve’s expression shifted, confusion flickering across his face as he tilted his head, clearly trying to place the man standing at the edge of the park.

“Danny?” Steve’s voice, low and hesitant, cut through the winter stillness, a sound that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. It had been three years since Danny had heard that voice, yet it still carried the weight of every memory, every argument, every unspoken word between them. “What are you doing here?” The question hung in the air, tentative, almost fragile, as if Steve himself wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

For a moment, Danny couldn’t respond. His throat felt tight, his chest burning with emotions too tangled to name. But when he finally found his voice, it came out sharp, brittle, his words laced with the anger he hadn’t realized was waiting there. “What I’m doing here?” he echoed, his laugh a hollow sound in the cold. “That’s your question? Seriously? That’s what you’ve got?”

Steve’s brow knit together, his confusion deepening, but Danny didn’t give him time to respond.

“This is New Jersey, Steve. My family lives here.” Danny’s words came fast now, the sharp edge of his fury slicing through every syllable. “Now the question—the real question—is what you’re doing here. And not that I care,” he added, his voice rising, “but when I say ‘here,’ I mean here, with a kidnapped child?”

The accusation landed like a blow, and the space between them seemed to crack under the weight of it. Danny’s chest heaved as he stared at Steve, his fists clenched at his sides, the fury and hurt in his gaze impossible to hide.

Behind Steve, the woman stiffened, her arms tightening protectively around the little girl. She took a step back, her eyes flicking nervously between the two men, the tension radiating from them impossible to miss. But Danny barely noticed her. His focus was locked on Steve, on the man he hadn’t seen in years but couldn’t seem to forget.

Steve’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he absorbed Danny’s words. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, but he didn’t speak right away. The silence stretched, heavy and electric, until it was almost too much to bear.

The woman’s face turned ashen as she clutched the little girl tighter, her trembling frame taut with the instinct to flee. Steve took a measured step forward, his hands raised slightly, his voice calm but underpinned with unyielding authority.

“Danny, wait. It’s not what you think.”

Danny’s expression was a storm cloud, dark and ominous, his retort cutting like a shard of broken glass. “Oh no, of course not! It’s never what we think, right? Until the moment it is—exactly what we thought all along!” His sarcasm lashed out bitterly, each word honed to wound.

Steve opened his mouth, an internal battle flashing across his conflicted face, but the words he sought faltered. His jaw clenched, the tight restraint of his frustration evident in the thin line of his lips. When he finally spoke, his tone was sharp-edged, the calm unraveling. “Danny—”

A tiny, fragile cry cut through the thick tension like a chime in a storm, derailing the heated exchange.

Both men turned, their gazes softening as they settled on the little girl. She hid her face in her mother’s shoulder, her small body trembling, her muffled whimpers a heart-wrenching plea for peace.
Danny exhaled, his fury dimming like embers starved of oxygen. His hands, once curled into fists, loosened by his sides. He ignored Steve entirely and took a tentative step toward the woman, softening his tone to a gentle murmur.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, his voice a soothing balm to the tension. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay. You’re okay. My name’s Danny, and guess what? I’m here to take you to see your papa.”

The woman recoiled as though his words were a physical blow. “No! Never!” she cried, her voice quaking with desperation. She clutched the child fiercely, her body curving protectively around her daughter like a fortress.

Danny stilled, his sharp detective instincts kicking in. Her voice. That tone. It pricked at a memory buried deep in the recesses of his mind, tugging at a thread he couldn’t quite grasp. His frown deepened, his eyes flickering between Steve and the woman as realization hovered just out of reach.

“Danny,” Steve began, his words slow, as though navigating a minefield.

Danny silenced him with a wave of his hand, his focus narrowing on the woman. Then, his voice, thick with incredulity, breached the fragile quiet.

“Mary?”

The woman froze, her wide eyes locking with Danny’s, and in them, he found a potent mix of fear, defiance, and something else—a shadow of recognition.

“It’s me,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. “And you’re not taking her. I’ll die before I let you do that.”

“Mary,” Steve interjected, his voice firm but tinged with an unfamiliar tenderness. He moved closer, his arm slipping around her shoulders like a lifeline. “Breathe. You’re scaring Joanie.”

The child whimpered again, and Mary tightened her hold, her breaths coming in ragged bursts.

Danny’s mind raced, processing the implications of what he was witnessing, each revelation crashing over him like waves on a rocky shore. His eyes darted between Steve and Mary, disbelief clawing at his chest.

“What the hell is going on here?” His voice, though quiet, carried the weight of a thousand unspoken accusations.
Mary glanced nervously at Steve, her resolve wavering but not breaking.

Steve stepped in front of her, his body shielding her as if from a physical threat. His tone was careful, but the steel within it was unmissable. “Danny, I know how this looks—”

“Looks?” Danny interrupted, his voice rising with the intensity of a brewing tempest. He gestured wildly, his frustration bubbling over. “This doesn’t just look bad, Steve. This is bad! A missing kid, a panicked father, and now you’re here? Playing house with your sister, who just so happens to be—what? A kidnapper?”

Mary flinched at the word, her face contorting in a painful mix of shame and defiance. “You don’t know what he’s like,” she said, her voice cracking. “You don’t know what I was protecting her from.”
Danny’s laugh was sharp and devoid of humor. “Oh, I don’t? Because let me tell you something, Mary—I’ve seen this story a thousand times before. Every parent who takes their kid thinks they’re the hero. But you? You’re Steve’s sister. I thought you were smarter than this.”

“She’s my daughter!” Mary shot back, her voice trembling but fierce. “I did what I had to do to keep her safe!”

“And running was the answer?” Danny fired back. “Dragging her across state lines, cutting her off from her father, from everyone? That’s your idea of keeping her safe?”

Mary’s eyes flashed, her anger sparking like flint against steel, but before she could respond, Steve’s commanding voice sliced through the tension.
“Danny, stop.”

The weight of Steve’s words, the authority in his tone, momentarily silenced the storm brewing between them.

Danny turned his gaze on him, the betrayal evident in his piercing glare. “Tell me you’re not helping her,” he demanded, his voice shaking with both anger and hurt.

Steve’s silence was deafening.

“That’s what I thought,” Danny said, his voice dropping to a bitter whisper. “You’re helping her. Jesus, Steve. What the hell is wrong with you?”

The air between them bristled with unspoken words, a battlefield where trust and anger collided.

Mary’s voice broke the silence, trembling but resolute. “I don’t need you to understand, Danny. I don’t need your approval. I just need you to stay out of it.”

Danny’s bitter laugh echoed through the room. “Stay out of it? That’s not happening. I’m in this now. And I’m not walking away.”

“You’ll have to go through me,” Mary shot back, her voice trembling with raw emotion.

“Don’t tempt me,” Danny growled, his eyes narrowing.

Steve’s patience snapped, his tone low but as sharp as a blade. “Enough !”

The little girl, nestled in her mother’s arms, whimpered again, her tiny voice trembling. “Mommy… I‘m s’cared” she mumbled, her words halting as tears welled in her wide, frightened eyes.
“I know, baby,” Mary murmured, her voice fracturing as she pressed her lips to the crown of her daughter’s head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Mommy’s got you.”

Steve stepped between them, his voice softer now but no less firm. “Danny, listen to me. We need to talk. All of us. But not here, not like this.”

Danny’s gaze burned into Steve’s, his voice a quiet storm. “This better be good, McGarrett. Because right now, you’re on the wrong side of this.”

Steve held his gaze, and Mary answered for him, her voice steady “We’re just doing what’s right to keep her safe, Danny.”

Danny’s jaw clenched so tightly it was a wonder it didn’t crack under the pressure. “Safe? Safe?” he hissed, the word slicing through the air with a venom that burned even in the cold bite of the park. His frustration surged, the effort to keep himself in check snapping like a frayed wire. He threw his hands up, the movement wild, untamed. “What the hell does that even mean, Mary? Do you hear yourself? Running off with a kid, hiding her from her father, and you’ve got the nerve to call that safe?”

The weight of his words landed hard, but Mary stood her ground, though her arms tightened around Joanie, holding the girl like a shield. Her voice shook, her eyes glistening with a mix of anger and something rawer. “You don’t understand, Danny,” she shot back, her words sharp, but her edges frayed. “You don’t know what he’s like. You think I did this because I wanted to? For fun? You think I had a choice?” Her voice cracked, the defiance faltering for just a moment before she steadied herself. “I had to protect her.”

Danny’s laugh was bitter, hollow, a sound that scraped against the tension. “Protect her?” he repeated, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. He stepped closer, his voice rising despite the soft whimpers of the little girl in Mary’s arms. “From what, Mary? From what? Because all I see is a father losing his damn mind with worry, a man who just wants his daughter back. And you? You’re the one out here breaking laws and calling it love!”

Mary flinched, her arms pulling Joanie even closer, as if shielding her from the fury radiating off Danny. Her jaw trembled, but she didn’t back down. “You don’t get it,” she snapped, her words tinged with desperation, as though she were clinging to the last thread of her resolve. “You have no idea what he’s like, what he’s capable of. I’m doing what I have to do. For her.”

“Danny, stop,” Steve cut in, his voice calm but commanding as he stepped between them. His presence was solid, unyielding, like a wall Danny couldn’t ignore.

Danny’s glare shifted, and the fire that had been burning so brightly in his eyes now turned on Steve. “Don’t you dare tell me to back off, McGarrett,” he spat, his voice dropping into a low growl, thick with years of resentment. “You? Of all people? You don’t get to stand there and tell me what’s enough.”

Steve’s expression didn’t waver, his face a mask of calm control, though his jaw tightened ever so slightly. “I’m telling you to stop because this isn’t helping,” he said firmly, his voice low but carrying enough weight to hold the tension in place. “You don’t have all the facts.”

Danny barked out another sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head as he gestured wildly. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of facts,” he shot back. “Fact: Mary kidnapped this kid. Fact: you’re standing here playing hero for her instead of doing your job. Fact: none of this makes a damn bit of sense!”

The words hit their mark, and Mary’s face paled. She turned her head slightly, as if Danny’s anger might be less sharp if she didn’t meet his gaze head-on. Joanie whimpered softly, her small hands clutching at her mother’s shoulder, her face buried deep into Mary’s coat. The sound made Danny’s chest tighten, guilt threading its way into his frustration, but he couldn’t stop himself. Not now.
“She’s scared, Mary,” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less biting. “This kid? She doesn’t deserve this. She deserves stability, safety—a real life. Not whatever this is.”

Mary’s eyes glistened, her lips pressing into a thin line to hold back whatever words threatened to spill out. When she spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper, trembling under the weight of her conviction. “Don’t you dare talk about what my daughter deserves,” she said, her grip on Joanie like a lifeline. “I’m her mother. I know what’s best for her.”

“And what’s best for her,” Danny fired back, his words like a hammer driving into fragile glass, “is being dragged across the country, hiding in God-knows-where, terrified out of her mind? That’s what’s best?”

“Enough!” Steve’s voice rang out, sharp and unyielding, cutting through the thick air like a blade. It startled all of them, even Danny, who froze mid-sentence, his eyes snapping to Steve.

“You don’t get to yell at me, Steve,” Danny said, his voice low and trembling with barely contained anger. “Not after disappearing for three years. Not after leaving without a word, without so much as a damn clue where you were. And now you’re just—what? Standing here, acting like you can fix this? Like you’re the voice of reason?”

Steve’s face was a mask of stone, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something fleeting but impossible to miss. Guilt, maybe. Or regret. His voice, when he spoke, was calm, deliberate, each word measured like a step on thin ice. “I’m not the one making this worse, Danny. You are.”

The words landed like a blow, and for a moment, Danny’s breath hitched, his anger briefly eclipsed by something rawer, something that had been simmering for years. He stepped back, shaking his head, his laugh soft and bitter. “I’m making it worse,” he repeated, almost to himself. “Of course I am.”

The silence between them was deafening, the weight of unspoken truths filling the space. The wind rustled through the trees, Joanie’s quiet sniffles the only sound breaking the quiet.

Danny’s voice softened, the anger fading into something deeper, something heavier. “Three years, Steve,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. His gaze burned into Steve’s, his frustration now laced with hurt. “Three years. And this is how you show up? In the middle of this mess, acting like none of it matters?”

Steve didn’t respond. His silence was louder than any defense he could have mustered.

Danny let out a long breath, the weight of everything—the years, the distance, the betrayal—bearing down on him. “You don’t get to pretend this is fine,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because it’s not. Not even close.”

“And now,” Danny continued, his voice rising again, the sharp edge returning, “you’re standing here, defending this insanity, like that hole you left behind doesn’t exist. Like everything’s just... fine.” He shook his head, his laughter bitter and empty. “But you know what? I’ve made my peace with it.”

Steve flinched, the crack in his stoic mask widening for just a moment, enough for Danny to see the guilt etched into his features.

The tension was unbearable, stretching like a taut wire ready to snap. Mary shifted uneasily, her voice breaking through the heavy silence. “Can we not do this here?” she said sharply, her words trembling but firm. “Joanie’s scared, and I’m—” Her voice caught, and she swallowed hard before continuing. “I’m scared too. You want to scream at each other? Fine. But not here.”

Danny’s gaze dropped to Joanie, her small frame trembling in her mother’s arms. He exhaled sharply, his anger cooling just enough for guilt to take its place. “Fine,” he said, his voice clipped. “This isn’t the place. So where are we going?”

Steve took a breath, steadying himself. “Mary’s apartment,” he said evenly. “It’s not far.”

“Good,” Danny snapped, gesturing for them to lead the way. “Because we’re going to talk. And you’d better hope your story’s worth it, Steve. Because right now? I’m this close to calling it in.”

Mary’s face paled, and Steve’s hand hovered protectively near her shoulder. His voice was low but firm as he replied, “No one’s calling anything in.”

The words hung between them like a fragile truce, the storm far from over.

-

Chapter 3

-

The group moved as if connected by an invisible thread of tension, taut and ready to snap at the slightest provocation. The air was charged, crackling like the moments before a storm. Danny followed, his eyes glued to the back of Steve’s head, his thoughts a chaotic mess.

He had told himself he was over it—over Steve, over the betrayal, over the ache that came with knowing too much and too little about a person you once trusted implicitly. For a while, he’d believed it.

But now, with Steve walking just a few steps ahead, close enough to touch yet infinitely out of reach, it was clear just how wrong he’d been. The emotions he’d worked so hard to bury clawed their way to the surface, raw and insistent. Frustration. Hurt. Betrayal.
He clenched his jaw, willing himself to keep it together. Danny Williams didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, not anymore. Not when it came to Steve. He’d made a promise to himself: never again. Never again would he let Steve McGarrett crash through the carefully constructed walls around his heart. This case was a means to an end—a way to finish the job and retreat to his sanctuary of indifference, where everything was safer, simpler, and blissfully numb.

Ahead, Mary led the way, clutching Joanie like a lifeline. Her shoulders hunched under an invisible weight, her movements jerky and nervous, like a deer expecting the snap of a hunter’s twig. Steve walked beside her, his every step radiating protectiveness. His focus darted between his sister and the man trailing behind, a silent watchdog torn between two worlds.
The gap between Danny and Steve felt cavernous, like a canyon carved over years by erosion. Where there had once been camaraderie, trust, and something unnamed but warm, there was now only emptiness. Danny felt as if he were standing on the edge of that canyon, yelling into the abyss, knowing full well there would be no echo.

When they reached Mary’s apartment, a modest building tucked away on a quiet street, she hesitated at the door. Her keys trembled in her hand, a subtle betrayal of her inner turmoil. “No yelling,” she said sharply, her voice tight as a bowstring. She glanced at Danny with a look that could cut steel. “Not around Joanie. Please.”

Danny crossed his arms, his expression unreadable but his stance defiant. “Yeah, fine. Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

Mary unlocked the door, and they stepped into a space that told a story of its own. It was small but filled with life. Toys lay scattered across the floor like breadcrumbs leading to Joanie’s world, and a half-finished puzzle sat on the coffee table, waiting for little hands to bring it to life. The apartment smelled faintly of lavender and baby powder, a soothing balm against the tension they’d carried in with them.

Joanie squirmed in Mary’s arms, her tiny hands reaching eagerly for the floor. Mary hesitated, her fingers lingering as though afraid to let go. Finally, she set her down, her hand brushing Joanie’s hair in a gesture so tender it made Danny’s chest ache.

As soon as Joanie’s feet hit the ground, she was off, waddling straight toward Steve with a giggle that could have melted the hardest heart. “Uncle Steve!” she chirped, her voice high and sweet. She tugged on his pant leg, her little hands curling into the fabric like it was her own anchor.

Steve, ever attuned to her, crouched without hesitation. “Hey, Jojo,” he murmured, his voice softer than Danny thought he was capable of. He pulled her into his arms, resting her on his knee as she babbled incoherently about her toys and the puzzle on the table.

Steve nodded along as if her every word was gospel. “That right? You’re working on a puzzle, huh? What kind of puzzle? Animals?”

Joanie nodded enthusiastically, her tiny hands patting Steve’s cheeks like she couldn’t quite believe he was real. “Yeah, lions! Big ones!”
“Big lions,” Steve repeated, his lips twitching into a small smile. He brushed her hair back from her face, his fingers lingering for just a second too long. It was a protective gesture, one that spoke volumes about the kind of uncle he wanted to be, even if he didn’t say it out loud.

Danny, watching from the sidelines, felt something tighten in his chest. It wasn’t jealousy—not exactly. It was something quieter, more insidious, like the ache of wanting something you weren’t sure you had a right to want.

Joanie, seemingly satisfied with Steve’s response, turned her attention to Danny. Her big, curious eyes blinked up at him, and she toddled over with all the confidence of someone who didn’t know what rejection felt like. She held out a small stuffed bunny, its fur worn and slightly matted in places, a clear testament to how much it was loved. Her tiny hands clutched it tightly for a moment, like she was making a big decision, before she held it out to Danny with all the seriousness her little face could muster. “For you,” she declared, her voice high and certain.

Danny blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. He crouched down, meeting her eye level as he gently accepted the bunny, his fingers brushing hers. The softness of her offering, so earnest and pure, hit him somewhere deep. “For me?” he asked, his voice soft, almost reverent, like he couldn’t quite believe the trust she was placing in him.
Joanie nodded, her face breaking into a toothy grin, her front teeth just starting to come in. “It’s my bunny.”

Danny couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. There was something disarming about her open-hearted generosity. He ran his thumb over the bunny’s soft fur, feeling the slightly threadbare patches where Joanie must have held it during every nap, every adventure, every tearful moment. “Thanks, sweetie,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual. “I’ll keep him safe, promise.”
Mary, standing near the door, watched the exchange with an unreadable expression. It was somewhere between gratitude and heartbreak, her hands twisting nervously in front of her. “Joanie…she’s good with people,” she said softly.

Danny straightened, the bunny still in his hands. “Yeah,” he said, glancing back at Joanie, who had now returned to Steve, tugging on his hand to show him her puzzle. “She seems to be a sweet kid.”
Mary’s expression faltered, and she looked away.

Steve, sensing the shift, picked Joanie up and settled her on his hip. “Let’s finish your puzzle, Jojo,” he said, carrying her to the table. He sat her down in his lap, guiding her small hands to the pieces as she giggled and babbled instructions.

The sight was almost too much for Danny. It was the kind of moment that should have been simple, sweet, and unremarkable—but nothing about this was simple. Not with the weight of Mary’s confession still hanging over them, not with Steve sitting there like some picture-perfect father figure while Danny wrestled with the cracks in their relationship.

But then Joanie giggled again, the sound light and unburdened, and for a moment, it was enough. Danny let himself sit on the edge of the coffee table, watching as Joanie worked diligently on her puzzle, her small hands guided by Steve’s steadier ones. “Uncle Steve,” she said suddenly, turning to look up at him with wide eyes. “Can lions swim?”

Steve tilted his head, pretending to think. “You know, I’m not sure. What do you think?”

Joanie considered this seriously, her little brows furrowing. “Maybe,” she said at last.
“Maybe,” Steve agreed, giving her a small smile. “But I bet they’d rather stay on land. Big paws and all.”
Joanie giggled, clearly delighted by this revelation.

For a moment, the room seemed lighter, the tension easing just a fraction as Joanie’s small world of stuffed animals and giggles wrapped around them like a balm.

“So,” he said, cutting through the silence. “Talk. Now.”

Steve turned slowly, his expression carefully neutral, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed the strain beneath. His blue eyes fixed on Danny with an intensity that was more than just determination—it was pleading. “You need to listen, Danny,” he said, his voice steady, yet weighted with something that felt heavy. “All of it.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he crossed his arms. The edge in his voice was unmistakable, razor-sharp. “Oh, I’m listening,” he said, his words dripping with challenge. “But this better be worth it, McGarrett. Because if it’s not, I’m done playing games.”

Mary, standing behind Steve, shifted nervously. Her hands fidgeted, twisting and untwisting the hem of her sweater as her gaze darted around the room, looking anywhere but at Danny. Her eyes flicked toward Joanie, who was still lost in her puzzle, before they dropped to the floor.

Steve, ever the protector, stepped in for her. His jaw set, and he shot her a glance that was equal parts reassurance and encouragement. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Mary came to visit me in Hawaii… three years ago. Some weeks before…” He paused, his eyes flicking toward the window as though searching for something solid to anchor him.

Danny tilted his head slightly, his voice taking on a bitter edge. “Before you left,” he supplied, his words laced with accusation. “It’s a fact, Steve. You can say it.”

Steve’s gaze snapped back to Danny, and for a moment, something raw flickered across his face. Hurt, maybe. Regret. But he buried it quickly, his features hardening.
Breathing out, he continued. “Yeah, well… she came, and during her stay, she spent some nights with this guy she met in a club.”

Mary exhaled shakily, placing her hand gently on Steve’s arm to take over. “It was nice, you know? He was charming, sexy, and seemed pretty rich, too. And I thought… why not?” She gave a small, bitter laugh before her voice softened. “But after a couple of nights at his big, shiny villa, things got… weird. Some guys came over, calling him ‘boss’ and talking about big deliveries and business. Nathan asked me to take a swim in his pool while he handled some ‘business,’ but I had to use the bathroom at one point. And then I… I heard and saw things…”

Her voice broke slightly, and she paused, glanc

ing nervously at Steve.

Steve gave her an encouraging nod. “You’re okay, Mare. Just tell him.”

Mary took a deep breath and continued, her voice trembling. “I couldn’t stay there, Danny. I knew I had to leave. But as I tried to slip out, some of his guys saw me. They grabbed me and dragged me to him, calling me a ‘little mouse out of the pot.’” Her hand absently rubbed her wrist, as if she could still feel their grip.

Her breath hitched, and tears began to stream down her cheeks as she added, “Nathan… he… he put a gun to my temple. He accused me of spying on them, asking which clan I was from, or if I was a cop. He slapped me, called me a bitch, a whore… His men were holding me so tight I could barely move. I thought… I really thought he was going to kill me.”
She broke into a sob, the words choking in her throat. Steve immediately pulled her into his arms, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back as he murmured reassurances.

Danny watched silently, his brows furrowed as he tried to piece everything together.

A small noise from Joanie broke the tension, making everyone flinch slightly. She was playing with her puzzle on the floor, oblivious to the heaviness in the room.

Danny blinked, momentarily grounding himself. He took a step toward the little girl and knelt beside her, picking up a puzzle piece. “Here,” he said softly, his voice kind.
Joanie looked at him, then at the puzzle, her small face lighting up with a smile. She clapped her hands before handing him another piece.

“Oh, you want me to keep going?” Danny asked with a faint smile. “I think this one goes… here. What do you think?”
Joanie giggled, clapping again, clearly delighted.

Danny couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him as they finished the puzzle together. He loved kids—it was just who he was. By the time they were done, he’d almost forgotten about the tension in the room.

When he noticed the silence around him, Danny cleared his throat awkwardly. He handed Joanie another puzzle and said gently, “Your turn now.”
Joanie obliged, her tiny face scrunched in concentration as she worked. Danny lightly brushed her hair before looking up at Mary.
“And this beauty?” he asked, his voice softer now.

Mary exhaled shakily. “She’s his.”

Danny’s brows furrowed again. “How?” He caught the look exchanged between Mary and Steve and rolled his eyes. “Not how as in how it’s possible,” he clarified impatiently. “How did you get away?”

Mary straightened slightly, a touch of pride creeping into her voice. “Well, he had to make a call and left me with one of his guards. The idiot decided to get handsy, and to do that, he let go of one of my hands. I bit him, hard, then hit him in the nuts and smashed a lamp over his head. After that, I ran. Fast.”

Steve, silent until now, gave her a small, proud smile. “Nice work, Mare. Guess you remembered some of those self-defense moves I taught you.”
Danny felt the familiar quip rise in his throat, but he bit it back. No way he was joking with Steve—not now, not ever again."

Joanie’s laughter echoed softly in the background, a poignant reminder of what Mary had fought for—what she’d survived for. And for a moment, in the small, lived-in apartment filled with stuffed animals and unfinished puzzles, it was enough to hold the weight of it all.

He jumped to the next question, his voice abrupt. “What I don’t understand is why you didn’t say anything. We were Five-0 back then. We could’ve arrested him, made him rot in prison if what you’re saying is true.”

Then something clicked in his head, and his eyes darted between them. “Unless…” His tone sharpened, his gaze hard. “Unless you told him.”
Danny turned to Steve, his tone cutting. “Right? She told you. And you decided to change her identity and ship her off here to hide. Without telling anyone. Without telling me.” His voice rose, sharp and furious. “Why, Steve? We could’ve stopped him. We could’ve—”

“STOP, Danny!” Steve suddenly barked, his voice loud and commanding. “For fuck’s sake, just stop. You’re jumping to conclusions.” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “That’s not what happened, okay?” he said, looking Danny directly in the eyes. “I promise you, that’s not what happened.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “Oh, right. Because a promise from you means so much these days.”

Steve jerked back, like Danny had physically struck him, his face twisting in hurt. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

Danny couldn’t help himself. He knew it was a low blow, even for him, but the words had spilled out before he could stop them. The anger, the betrayal—it all bubbled too close to the surface, and this was the only way he knew how to push it out. To make Steve feel a fraction of what he’d felt all these years.

But even as the bitterness left his mouth, a pang of guilt twisted in his chest.

Mary, sensing the tension, stepped in. “It didn’t happen like that, Danny,” she said softly, her voice trembling but steady enough to cut through the charged silence. “I didn’t tell Steve. I didn’t tell anyone. I was… I was ashamed, okay? Ashamed I’d been so reckless.”

She glanced at her brother briefly, her expression a mix of guilt and something protective, before turning back to Danny. “And Steve… he wasn’t in a good place back then. I didn’t want to add to his problems.”

Her gaze softened, her voice almost pleading now. “I told him I had a job opportunity on the mainland. I left that same day.”

Danny’s eyes flicked between the two of them, his jaw tight, his fists clenched at his sides. He wanted to believe her, wanted to trust her words, but the anger boiling inside him clouded his judgment.
“And you didn’t think to call me? To let me know what the hell was going on?” he asked, his tone clipped.

Mary shook her head, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I couldn’t, Danny. I couldn’t talk about it. I wanted to forget it ever happened.”

Steve, standing silently to the side, finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “She thought she was protecting herself. And sometime after… Joanie.”

Danny’s eyes snapped to him, his frustration spilling over. “Yeah? And where were you in all of this, huh? The big brother who’s always got a plan? You didn’t think to check in on her? To notice something was off?”

“I did,” Steve admitted, his voice tight. “I noticed, but she wouldn’t talk to me. I tried, Danny. I fucking tried!”

“Language!” blurted Mary, shooting Steve a pointed look as her eyes flicked toward Joanie.

Danny huffed, shaking his head. “Great. Just great. So she keeps this big, terrifying secret, you vanish without a word, and somehow, I’m the idiot left picking up the pieces three years later.”

Mary opened her mouth to respond but stopped, glancing at Joanie, who was still quietly working on her puzzle, blissfully unaware of the tension in the room. She sighed, stepping closer to Danny, her voice softer now.

“Danny… I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to drag anyone into this. Not you, not Steve. I thought I could handle it on my own.” She paused, her voice trembling. “When I found out I was pregnant… it was so terrifying, you know? It was his child, and I didn’t want to keep a… tie with him.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it quickly before continuing. “But I… I couldn’t. I think I’ve always wanted to be a mom, and she was a gift in this nightmare. But I was so scared. Scared that he would find me, that he’d find out I was pregnant with his child.”

She took a shaky breath, her eyes darting to Joanie before landing back on Danny. “So I decided to change my name. I needed Steve to help me do it, and I wanted him to know Joanie. I didn’t want her to grow up without knowing her family. And I thought… maybe I was ready to share this burden with him.”

Danny exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “Well, newsflash, Mary—you didn’t handle it. Now we’re here, and this mess? It’s not just yours anymore.”

Mary flinched at Danny’s words, her arms tightening around herself.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I thought I could just… disappear. That Joanie and I could be safe, and no one else would get hurt.”

Danny’s response was icy, cutting through the air like a blade. “Well, seems to be a family trait.”

Mary flinched at the remark, and Steve’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he turned to Danny. The tension in the room thickened, but Danny didn’t back down, his frustration radiating off him in waves.

-

Danny turned on himself, breathing hard as he walked to the nearest window. He stared out at the street as snow began to fall, the soft flakes a stark contrast to the storm raging inside him. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm the storm within. “Okay,” he said after a moment, his voice steadying. “I need to… I need to process. It’s… it’s not…” He exhaled heavily and turned back toward the room.

Steve had moved. He was now standing just behind Danny, keeping a safe distance, looking hesitant. Mary was in the background, kneeling on the floor, quietly tending to Joanie, who was engrossed in her puzzle.

Danny’s gaze locked on Steve, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “What?” he asked harshly.

“Danny… I…” Steve began, his voice uncertain, almost pleading. For a moment, Danny thought Steve was about to apologize. He gritted his teeth, preparing to tell him exactly where to shove his apologies, but Steve seemed to read his mind and stopped himself.

Instead, Steve said, “Look, I know this looks bad, and I know you’ve got a lot of questions coming up, but please, go easy on her.” He turned slightly, his eyes softening as they landed on his sister and niece. “It’s been really hard on her, Danny. She’s been living in constant fear that he’ll find them.”

Danny sighed, his gaze shifting to Mary and Joanie. The anger in his chest twisted into something softer, something he didn’t quite know what to do with. “She’s got a beautiful girl here,” he said simply.

Steve’s eyes darted back to him, surprised by the unexpected kindness in Danny’s words. “Yeah,” Steve said softly, his voice careful, like he was trying not to disturb a sleeping beast.

Danny’s chest tightened painfully, the emptiness and ache mingling as he met Steve’s gaze. Goddammit, he missed this man.
“Okay,” Danny said again suddenly, loud and clear enough for everyone in the room to hear. “I need—we need to look at this closely. My files don’t tell the same story you’re telling me right now.”

He turned toward the table, his voice sharp as he continued. “I did some background on this guy, Nathan Strider, and I found nothing other than a couple of parking violations. So—”

“Nathan Makani,” Mary interrupted, her voice cutting through like a whip.

“What?” both men said at the same time, their brows furrowing in unison. Danny frowned, rolling his eyes.

“Nathan Makani, not Strider,” Mary repeated firmly.

Danny’s jaw dropped slightly. “You mean… Makani, as in the Makani clan? Are you sure?”

“Affirmative,” Mary said, her tone tinged with grim certainty. “You know the saying, right? ‘Know your friends but know your enemies better.’”

“Okay,” Danny said, disbelief lacing his voice. “That doesn’t sound good at all.”

“Care to elaborate?” Steve asked finally, his tone cautious as he tried to keep up.

Danny snapped his attention to Steve, his frustration bubbling again. “What, you mean to tell me you’re trying to protect your sister and niece, and you even know who you’re protecting them from?” He shook his head bitterly. “These three years really did a number on you.”

“I refused to tell him the name, Danny,” Mary interjected, drawing the attention back to herself. “I didn’t want him to go off and kill everyone.” She paused, her gaze softening as it landed on Steve. “Or be killed.”

Danny huffed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced at Mary. “Pretty intelligent of you.”

Mary gave him a small nod and a half-smile in response.

Steve crossed his arms, looking between the two of them before focusing on Danny. “So, who is this Makani? You seem to know him.”

Danny’s expression darkened as he exhaled. “A bad, bad guy. Back in Oahu, he’s a big-time narco trafficker. Big network. Word is he’s into human trafficking too, but we’ve never been able to find enough evidence to nail him. Works with the Yakuza when it suits him, so… yeah.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flickered with something sharp and determined. “And Mary got tangled up with him.”

“Looks like it,” Danny said grimly. “And if he’s still operating like I think he is, this isn’t just a family issue. This is a big problem.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of the revelation pressing down on them.

“So, you met at a club… which one?” Danny asked.

Mary hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. “It was called Blue Halo,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Danny’s brows furrowed, recognition flashing across his face. “Blue Halo? The one in Waikiki?”

Mary nodded slowly.

Danny let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “That place… it’s got a reputation. And not the good kind. You sure know how to pick ‘em, Mary.”

“Danny,” Steve warned, his tone sharp, protective.

Danny held up a hand, his frustration still simmering beneath the surface. “I’m just saying. You go into a place like that, you’re bound to find trouble.”

Mary’s shoulders tensed, but her voice was steady. “I didn’t know, okay? I just thought it was a fancy club. People were dressed up, drinks were expensive, music was good. It didn’t feel dangerous.”

Steve stepped in, his arms crossed. “And Makani? How’d he approach you?”

Mary took a shaky breath, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “He bought me a drink. Said he liked my smile. He was… charming. Confident. I thought he was just some wealthy businessman out for a good time.” She paused, her eyes darkening. “It wasn’t until later that I realized there was something off. The way people deferred to him, the way he controlled the room… it was subtle, but I noticed.”

Danny nodded slowly, his detective instincts kicking in. “Sounds like a predator to me. The kind who knows exactly how to reel people in.”

Mary flinched slightly, but she didn’t argue. “I was stupid. I fell for it. And now…” She glanced at Joanie, her voice breaking slightly. “Now I’m just trying to keep her safe.”

Danny softened, glancing at the little girl playing on the floor. “You’re not stupid, Mary. He’s a pro at this. And he picked you because you didn’t see it coming.”

Mary looked up at him, her eyes glassy but grateful. “Thanks, Danny.”

Then Steve asked, frowning, the question seeming to genuinely intrigue him. “Why did he come to you, Danny?”

Danny blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean, why did he come to me? I’m a very good detective, I’ll inform you!” he answered, his tone sharp, the bitterness in his voice barely concealed. Steve’s question had struck a nerve, and Danny’s vexation was clear.

Steve raised his hands slightly, palms out, his expression cautious. “I didn’t mean it like that, Danny.”

“Oh, really? Then how did you mean it, Steve?” Danny fired back, crossing his arms. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounds a hell of a lot like you’re questioning why anyone would bother hiring me.”

“I’m not questioning your abilities,” Steve said evenly, though his brow furrowed deeper. “I just think it’s… strange.”

“Strange?” Danny repeated, incredulous. “You think it’s strange that someone hires me—a private investigator—to find their missing kid? That’s kind of my job description, Steve!”

Steve didn’t respond immediately, his lips pressing into a thin line, his expression almost shocked. “Private investigator? So you… you’re not… you don’t…” he fumbled, struggling to find the right words.

Then it hit Danny like a punch to the gut—Steve didn’t know. Of course, he didn’t know. He wasn’t there, was he?
“No, Steve,” Danny said sharply, cutting through the awkwardness. “I’m not a member of Five-0 anymore, if that’s what you’re trying to ask. Not since…” He hesitated, his teeth clicking audibly as he clamped his mouth shut mid-sentence. He had almost said it—when I stopped hoping in vain. For hell’s sake!

Danny exhaled harshly and forced himself to finish. “Not since one and a half years ago when I stopped. When Lou retired, I followed a few months later. And honestly? I should’ve done it years ago.”

“Danny…” Steve said softly, his voice tinged with sadness, but Danny didn’t give him the chance to continue.

“So yeah,” Danny interrupted, his tone brisk, “looking after missing kids is my job now. And I’ve got a pretty good reputation back there, so I don’t think there’s any connection here… but I’ll run another set of research on this.”

Mary, still kneeling by Joanie, glanced up, her voice hesitant. “What did he say to you? About me, about… her?”

Danny exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “He said you were gone. That you took the kiddo and both of you disappeared without a word or reason before he came to me. He seemed desperate, like a father would if his daughter went missing. Nothing seemed wrong…”

Steve cut in, his voice thoughtful but sharp. “You saw yourself in him. You always do when it’s a kid missing.”

A blank silence followed, heavy and suffocating. Danny sucked in a deep breath, his jaw tightening before he responded.
“Is that an accusation, Steven?” he asked, his tone icy, each word deliberate and cutting.

Steve straightened, his posture defensive. “No. It’s an observation.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you should keep your observations to yourself,” Danny shot back. “This isn’t about me, and it sure as hell isn’t about you, either. It’s about getting the facts straight and figuring out what the hell is going on.”

Steve exhaled loudly, the sound sharp in the tense silence. His jaw was so tight it looked like he might crack a tooth.

Danny, on the other hand, was pacing now, his movements sharp and restless, a storm of anger, frustration, and a swirl of emotions he didn’t care to name. He was trying to process everything, piece together the puzzle in his head, but it wasn’t fitting the way it should.

Then something tugged at the edge of his thoughts, something that didn’t sit right. He stopped in his tracks abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the floor.
“How did he know about her?” Danny asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the air like a whip.

Steve frowned, his arms crossing tightly over his chest. “What do you mean?”

Danny turned to face him, his expression sharp, his detective instincts flaring to life. “Makani. How did he know about Joanie?” He gestured toward Mary and the little girl, who was now quietly stacking pieces of her puzzle. “She’s almost three. Mary’s been in hiding since before she was born, right?”

Turning to Mary, his eyes narrowing, he continued. “You changed your name, cut ties. So how the hell did he know?”

Mary stiffened, her hands freezing mid-movement as she reached to adjust Joanie’s sleeve. “I—I don’t know,” she stammered.

Danny’s eyes narrowed on her. “Think, Mary. Did you tell anyone? Slip up somewhere? Anything?”
Mary shook her head vehemently, her eyes wide with panic. “No! I’ve been careful, Danny. I swear. No one knows where we are, not even old friends. I don’t even use social media anymore.”

Steve’s brow furrowed deeply, his mind already working through the possibilities. “He has connections, Danny. If he wanted to find her, he could’ve pulled strings—private investigators, surveillance, bribes.”

“Maybe,” Danny said, his voice skeptical, “but that takes time. You don’t just find someone in hiding overnight, especially not with a fake name and no trail.” He pointed at Mary. “That doesn’t add up.”

Steve’s eyes darkened. “You’re saying he already knew where she was.”

Danny nodded slowly, his frustration simmering. “Exactly. He didn’t come to me because he wanted me to find her. He came to me because he couldn’t get to her himself.”

Mary’s face paled, her arms instinctively wrapping around Joanie, who looked up at her mother in confusion. “You think he’s close?”

Danny didn’t answer immediately, his mind racing through possibilities. Finally, he said grimly, “I think he’s been watching you. And I think he’s using me to figure out exactly where you are.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of his words pressing down on all of them.

Mary broke the silence first, her voice trembling. “If he’s been watching us, then… we’re not safe here. Are we?”

Danny shook his head, his expression grim. “Probably not. If he knows you’re in New Jersey, it’s only a matter of time before he narrows it down further. We need to move fast.”

Steve straightened, his stance shifting into his old military readiness. “We’ll need to relocate you and Joanie. Somewhere secure. Low-profile.”

Mary’s eyes widened in panic. “Relocate? But you said we would be safe here, Steve, that New Jersey was a perfect place to grow up for Joanie. You sold it to me like the most—”
“I know, Mare, I know… but not anymore. I’m sorry. I was wrong,” Steve cut her off, his tone tight, but Danny didn’t miss the look on his face.

And what she said… if Danny didn’t know better, he’d think Steve had made Mary and Joanie come to New Jersey because of him. Because Danny had grown up here. Because Danny had always told Steve how much he loved it, how he thought it was the perfect place to raise a kid.

But of course not. That would be completely and absolutely nonsense. Wouldn’t it?

“Mary,” Danny interrupted gently but firmly, his tone softening just enough to cut through her rising fear. “I get it, I do. But if he’s as dangerous as we think he is, staying here isn’t an option. It’s not
just about you anymore. You’ve got her to think about.” He gestured toward Joanie, who was now playing with a doll, concentrating as she tried to put a sweater on it.

Mary’s gaze dropped to her daughter, her arms wrapping around herself protectively. “Where would we even go?”

“We’ll figure that out,” Steve said, his tone steady but leaving no room for argument. “First, we need to assess how much he knows and how close he might be. Danny, when did you say he approached you?”

Danny looked at him, his expression tight. “Didn’t say it. But it would be two weeks tops now. Claimed he was desperate, a father who just wanted his kid back. Played the role pretty well, I have to say. The timing’s tight.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “If he’s tracking her, it means he has resources here. Maybe someone on the ground feeding him intel.”

Danny ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling over. “Great. So we’re not just dealing with Makani; we’ve got to worry about his crew too. This just keeps getting better.”

Mary’s voice wavered as she looked between them. “What do we do now? What’s the plan?”

Steve glanced at Danny, their eyes locking in a silent exchange. It was like old times, the unspoken understanding they used to have on Five-0 kicking in for a moment.
“I’ll make some calls,” Steve said. “See if I can pull any strings to get eyes on Makani and his people. Danny, you still got access to any of your old contacts?”
Danny huffed, crossing his arms. “I’ve got some, yeah. Not like you, though. You just snap your fingers and make things happen.” His tone was sharp, but there was a flicker of dry humor buried beneath it.

“Then start with your contacts,” Steve said, ignoring the jab. “See if anyone’s noticed Makani or his crew around town. We need to know how close they are, what they’re planning.”

Mary watched them, her hands gripping the back of a chair tightly. “And us? What about Joanie and me?”

Danny turned to her, his expression softening again. “You stay put for now. Keep the doors locked, stay away from the windows. If anything feels off, you call me or Steve immediately.”
“Immediately,” Steve echoed, his tone firm.

Mary nodded, but her eyes were filled with uncertainty. “You’ll let me know what you find?”

“Of course,” Danny said, his voice steady. Then, after a beat, he crossed the space between them and held his arms open in an invitation. “Come here,” he said, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting hug as she stepped in. He added, “We’ve got you, Mary. Both of you.”

She exhaled shakily, nodding against his shoulder.

As they began moving into action—Danny pulling out his phone, Steve retreating to the kitchen to make calls—Mary lingered near Joanie, her fingers brushing lightly through her daughter’s hair.
“Danny,” she called softly as he started dialing.

“Yeah?” he asked, glancing over.

“Thank you,” she said simply, her voice filled with emotion.

Danny paused for a moment, his face unreadable, before nodding. “We’ll fix this, Mary.”

In the kitchen, Steve leaned against the counter, phone to his ear, his gaze distant. For a fleeting moment, his eyes landed on Danny. The tension between them hadn’t disappeared—it was still thick, still raw—but there was something else there now.

Something closer to the bond they’d once had.

-

Chapter 4: 4

Danny decided to call it a day.

He couldn’t stay there anymore; his head was pounding from too much information, too many emotions. He felt like a bottle shaken too hard, ready to burst. When he reached his hotel room—just a block from Mary’s apartment—he sank onto the bed without bothering to take off his shoes. Everything was insane.

But he couldn’t sleep. Of course, he couldn’t. His mind wouldn’t shut off, replaying the day over and over like a broken record. Three years gone, and now Steve was here.

Not because of me, Danny reminded himself bitterly, just a coincidence. Just one of those goddamn cosmic jokes.

Still, it felt like a cruel twist of fate. He’d been doing so well—finally feeling sane, happy, like he’d made peace with the loss. And now? Now it was all jeopardized.

And this case…Makani. It wasn’t going to end well. Danny knew the kind of danger Makani brought with him. And worse, Steve was here. Of course he’s here. Danger always seemed to hover around Steve like a storm cloud. Some things never changed.

That night, Danny lay on the stiff hotel bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling. Sleep didn’t come—how could it, with everything swirling in his mind? The day’s revelations, Steve’s sudden reappearance, the danger looming over Mary and Joanie—it was all too much.

Instead of tossing and turning, Danny got up and opened his laptop, settling at the small desk in the corner of the room. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well make himself useful.

He dove into research, combing through everything he could find on Makani. Police reports, known associates, whispers from the underworld—it didn’t matter how small the lead, Danny chased it. His frustration only grew as the pieces refused to fit neatly together. Makani was slippery, leaving just enough breadcrumbs to be known but never enough to pin him down.

Hours passed, the glow of the screen illuminating his tired face. When the first light of dawn seeped through the curtains, Danny leaned back in the chair with a groan, rubbing his hands over his face. He hadn’t found much, but he wasn’t giving up. He couldn’t.

Coffee was going to be a necessity today. A lot of it.
With a sigh, Danny stood and stretched, his body aching from the tension and lack of sleep. The day ahead was going to be hell, and not just because of Makani.

-

He arrived at Mary’s apartment early that morning, the first rays of dawn barely spilling through the curtains. The team was gathering again, hoping against hope to uncover something—anything—that might lead them closer to answers. Danny’s arrival was as sharp as his mood; his patience, already threadbare, was further frayed by the restless hours of sleep he hadn’t gotten.

The air felt heavier than usual, thick with unspoken tension. He’d already resolved to stay on edge, to keep his walls high and unyielding. If Steve got under his skin again, it would be a choice—his choice—and Danny wasn’t going to let that happen. Not today.

The Steve case was closed, had been for three years now. It was like a chapter ripped from an old book, filed away in the archives of his life. Cold for a year and a half, sealed shut long before that. No one was reopening it, least of all Danny. It was over. Terminado. End of story.

Still, there was something in the air that made his resolve waver, the faint echo of what once was. Steve’s presence in the room was a constant hum, a background noise Danny couldn’t quite ignore, no matter how hard he tried.

He set his jaw and reminded himself: Be polite. Be distant.

They were adults; they could do this. They had to.

The morning dragged on as they sorted through fragments of information, each piece more frustratingly ambiguous than the last. Danny’s mood, sharp and biting, set the tone. He was short with Steve, barely sparing him a glance. The cracks in their relationship were painfully obvious, jagged and raw, but neither of them dared acknowledge them.

Danny told himself he didn’t want to fix it. He was done—done with the anger, the disappointment, and the ache of being left behind. But deep down, in the quiet part of his soul he refused to listen to, he wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. And that fact burned like salt in an open wound.

Steve, ever persistent, tried to reach across the chasm between them. His words were soft, hesitant, like stepping stones across an unsteady river. But every time he ventured too close, Danny shut him down, his responses clipped and final.

At one point, Joanie toddled over to Danny, her tiny hands clutching a stuffed rabbit and a puzzle piece like treasures. “Help?” she asked, her wide, curious eyes peering up at him

Danny’s heart softened instantly, his sharp edges dulling. “What’s this, sweetie? You’ve got a puzzle emergency?”

Joanie nodded with all the solemnity a toddler could muster, holding out the piece.

“Well, let’s see what we’ve got here.” Danny picked up the rabbit first, holding it up to eye level with a mock-serious expression. “Bunny, you’re the supervisor, okay? This is delicate work.”

Joanie giggled, her laughter as light and infectious as birdsong. Danny guided her back to the coffee table, kneeling beside her to show her where the piece fit.

“Right here, see? You almost had it,” he said gently, his voice softening further.

When the piece clicked into place, Joanie beamed, her pride shining brighter than the morning sun. “Done!”

“Done,” Danny echoed, grinning wide. “You’re a genius, sweetie. Einstein better watch out.”

Joanie clapped her hands, laughing as she darted off for more pieces. It wasn’t until Danny glanced up that he noticed Steve watching him from across the room. Their eyes met briefly, Steve’s gaze lingering with something Danny couldn’t quite name before he looked away, his expression shuttered.

Not long after, Joanie spotted Steve sitting on the floor, engrossed in notes and maps spread out before him. With her rabbit tucked under one arm, she marched over and plopped herself in his lap, unceremoniously handing him a toy car.

“Play?”

Steve looked momentarily startled but quickly recovered, a warm smile spreading across his face. “You want me to play cars with you?”

Joanie nodded, her expression expectant.

“Alright, sweetie. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Steve rolled the car back and forth with her, making engine noises that earned him delighted squeals.

Danny, watching from the doorway, tried to tear his eyes away, but he couldn’t. There was something about the way Steve’s usually serious face softened, the way he matched Joanie’s enthusiasm with ease, that made Danny’s chest ache in a way he wasn’t ready to unpack.

Steve glanced up at one point, catching Danny watching him. For a moment, neither man looked away, something unspoken passing between them. Danny’s throat tightened, and he quickly turned back to his files, pretending he hadn’t seen anything.

By lunchtime, the tension in the room had become almost unbearable. Danny’s frustration spilled over in sharp, relentless barbs aimed at Steve—his posture, his tone, his very existence seemed to grate on Danny’s nerves.

And yet, Steve endured it all with a maddening calm, his patience as steady as the tide. It only fueled Danny’s irritation. Steve was always the calm one when it didn’t matter, Danny thought bitterly, always so unflappable when he had no right to be.

Mary tried to distract herself with Joanie, who, sensing the tension, stayed close to Danny’s side. At one point, she tugged on his shirt, her little hand holding out a toy phone.
“Uncle Danny,” she said, her voice sweet and commanding all at once. “Talk!”

Danny blinked, startled, before taking the toy. “Oh, you want me to make a call? Alright, who’s it gonna be?”

“Bunny,” Joanie said, pointing to her stuffed rabbit.

Danny grinned, holding the phone to his ear. “Hello, Bunny? Yeah, it’s Danny. We’ve got an update on the puzzle situation. Joanie’s in charge, and let me tell you, she’s doing an excellent job. What’s that? You approve? Good to hear.”

Joanie burst into laughter, grabbing the phone and babbling into it, her joy cutting through the tension like sunlight through clouds.

Steve glanced up again, his gaze softening as he watched the scene. There was something vulnerable in the way he looked at Danny, something almost wistful.
"You’re still good with kids,” he said quietly, a faint trace of longing in his tone.

Danny didn’t look at him right away, focusing instead on Joanie’s delighted giggles as she handed the phone back to him. “They’re simple,” he said after a beat, his voice warm but carrying an edge Steve couldn’t miss. “True at heart. No games, no pretenses. I love kids. Always will, I think.”

He glanced up then, meeting Steve’s gaze with a pointed look. “They don’t lie to you like some adults do.”

Steve’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, the sting in Danny’s words landing with precision. For a moment, he looked like he might say something, then asked tentatively, “Grace, Charlie… are they—”

“Don’t!” Danny cut him off, his voice sharp and final. He turned to Steve, his eyes hard and cold. “Don’t you even say their names.”

Steve froze, his mouth closing into a thin line. He nodded slowly, the hurt flickering across his face for the briefest moment before he forced it away, his expression turning unreadable as he returned to his notes.

-

The day wore on, and slowly, the edges of Danny’s frustration smoothed. Joanie’s lightness was contagious, her simple joy a balm for the frayed nerves in the room.

By the time afternoon arrived, Danny was more focused, his sharpness replaced by a quiet determination. Joanie, ever his little shadow, tugged at his sleeve once more, her sleepy eyes blinking up at him.

“Uncle Danny?” she murmured. “Sleep.”

Danny frowned for a moment, then smiled as realization dawned. “Oh, you want me to tuck you in, huh?”

Joanie nodded, clutching his shirt tightly.

Danny looked to Mary, who gave him a soft, approving nod. Scooping Joanie up, he carried her to her small bed. She snuggled against him, her tiny form warm and trusting.

“Alright, sweetie,” Danny murmured, settling her down gently. “Sweet dreams.”

He kissed her nose with an exaggerated smack, earning a sleepy giggle before she closed her eyes.

For a moment, he lingered, watching her drift into peaceful sleep. When he returned to the living room, he saw Steve sitting cross-legged on the floor, helping Mary sort through papers while still holding Joanie’s stuffed rabbit.

Steve glanced up, his face soft with an unspoken tenderness that hit Danny like a freight train. For a moment, he couldn’t look away, his heart thudding uncomfortably in his chest.

Steve smiled—just a small, almost shy curve of his lips—and Danny quickly looked down at his hands, pretending to straighten the files on the table.

For a moment, he lingered, watching Joanie drift into peaceful sleep, her tiny form relaxed and peaceful under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. There was something grounding about it, a rare stillness that settled over Danny, momentarily easing the tension he’d carried all day.

When he stepped back into the living room, he found Mary and Steve huddled together, murmuring in low voices. Their heads were close, their words low but urgent.

“I’m just saying you should try,” Mary was saying softly, her tone insistent.

“I know, okay? I know,” Steve replied, his voice quieter, almost uncertain. “It’s just... I—” He stopped abruptly as Danny approached, his sharp eyes catching movement out of the corner of his vision.

The conversation cut off instantly, the room falling into an uneasy silence.

Danny raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued but his mood lightened by Joanie’s sweet request moments before. He crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Alright,” he said, breaking the silence. “I love that little girl.” His voice softened before he added, looking between them with a small, teasing smile, “But since when am I Uncle Danny?”

Mary smiled, a flicker of relief passing over her face as the tension eased slightly. She stepped closer, brushing off the awkward pause. “That’s on me,” she admitted, her tone warm but earnest. “I wanted her to know who she could refer to and trust, so I told her you were Uncle Danny. And that you’re… family.”

Her hand rested lightly on his arm for just a moment—a silent thank-you that spoke volumes. Danny’s eyes briefly caught hers, noticing the gratitude there. But just for a second, her gaze flickered to Steve, and Danny felt his chest tighten.

Family

The word hit him like a sucker punch. A weight he didn’t know he still carried pressed against his chest. That was before, he thought firmly, not now.

Not anymore.

Still, for Joanie—for her safety—he could handle it. He could play the part. Just a little.

“Family, huh?” he said finally, his voice carrying a faint edge of bitterness as he tilted his head, his gaze unreadable. His lips twisted into a shadow of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, family. Sure. Whatever keeps her safe."

The words hung in the air, brittle and sharp, like glass about to shatter. There was something in his tone—an ache buried beneath the bitterness, a hurt he couldn’t quite hide no matter how hard he tried.

Danny didn’t give either of them a chance to reply. “I’ll go watch around,” he said curtly, already heading toward the door without waiting for an answer, but there was no mistaking the tension in his shoulders or the tight set of his jaw.

Mary opened her mouth as if to say something but hesitated, her worried gaze darting to Steve, who was staring at the spot where Danny had been.

Steve’s face was unreadable at first, but as Danny disappeared into the hallway, a flicker of something—hurt, regret—passed across his features.

“Steve,” Mary started softly, her voice cautious.

“I know,” Steve said quietly, cutting her off. He ran a hand down his face and sighed, his eyes fixed on the door Danny had just closed behind him.

Chapter 5: 5

Danny returned about an hour later, his expression locked in a stony, unreadable mask. His face was blank but for the seriousness etched into his features, his posture tense as he walked into the room.

“I think we have a problem,” he said sharply, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of Steve and Mary’s continued work.

Steve’s head snapped up, his brow furrowed. Mary stilled, her pen halting mid-note. “What is it?” Steve asked, his voice edged with concern.

Danny moved toward the window, keeping his distance from the others as he nodded toward something outside. “Here,” he said, his tone clipped.

Steve rose from his seat and joined him by the window. Danny stepped back slightly, putting space between them as he gestured toward the street. “I watched him circle the
building five times in the last hour. Same guy, same route.”

Steve’s frown deepened as he squinted through the curtains. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Danny replied, his voice tight. He glanced around the room as though making sure Joanie was still safely out of earshot before continuing. “And he’s not alone. I think there are two other men with him, hanging back a block or so.
They’re coordinated, Steve. This isn’t random.”

Steve nodded grimly, his jaw tightening as he processed the information. “Okay,” he said, his tone quiet but firm.

As the day wore on, Danny and Steve took turns checking the window, their movements cautious and deliberate. The unease in the air grew heavier with each passing hour, settling over them like a suffocating fog.

It wasn’t long before the patterns became clearer. Men passed by the building repeatedly, their steps too measured, their lingering glances too deliberate.

“They’re scouting,” Steve muttered, his voice low and grim as he peered out the curtain, his sharp gaze following one of the men as he disappeared around the corner.

“Great,” Danny muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. The weight of the day—and the night before—was catching up to him, but exhaustion didn’t dull his sarcasm. “This just keeps getting better.”

Steve didn’t respond immediately, his focus unwavering as he scanned the street. The tension in his shoulders was telling—rigid and coiled, the way it used to be in their worst moments together.

Danny noticed, though he said nothing. His own jaw clenched as he glanced back toward Joanie’s room, the thought of her safety sharpening his resolve.

Their eyes met across the room, and for once, no words were needed. The decision was mutual, instinctive.

They couldn’t stay.

Steve turned to Mary, his voice calm but urgent. “We need to pack up and get out of here. Quietly.”

Mary hesitated, her eyes darting toward Joanie’s door. “Now?”

Danny stepped in, his voice low but firm. “We need to find a place to hide first. Somewhere safe. And I need to get my stuff and check out of the hotel before someone connects the dots.”

Steve stayed by the window, his sharp gaze fixed on the street below. He nodded, his posture rigid with vigilance. “We don’t know how much time we’ve got. We should move tonight. The darkness will help us stay under the radar.”

“Okay, but to where?” Danny asked, crossing his arms as his eyes narrowed in frustration. “What’s the plan, exactly? Where’s this magic safe house of yours?”

Steve turned to him, his face etched with calm determination. “We need to find somewhere off the grid,” he said, pacing near the window, his movements restless. “I know a place—Joe’s ranch.”

Danny froze mid-step, his brows drawing together in disbelief. “Montana?”

Steve nodded, his tone resolute. “It’s remote, secure, and Joe knows how to handle this kind of situation. It’s the best option.”

Danny’s arms crossed tighter, his frustration spilling over like a dam breaking. “You’re out of your damn mind,” he snapped. “We can’t fly there, genius. We can’t risk being seen. And you’re talking about driving more than two days? With a toddler? Are you even hearing yourself?”

“I am,” Steve replied, his voice steady but clipped. He didn’t flinch under Danny’s glare, holding his ground like a wall against a storm.

Danny jabbed a finger toward him, his voice rising slightly. “I am not in the mood for a road trip with him,” he bit out, the words landing sharp and pointed.

Steve’s jaw tightened, the tension in the room thickening like a pressure cooker. But he didn’t take the bait. Instead, his voice came quieter, firmer. “You don’t have to like it, Danny. But you know I’m right.”

Danny let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head as he leaned heavily against the table. “Right. Because your ideas always work out so well,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. But underneath the sharpness, there was something raw—an edge of exhaustion, frustration, and an unspoken fear he wouldn’t admit.

Mary watched the exchange silently.Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her worry was written plainly across her face.
“Enough,” she said softly, her voice breaking the tense silence.

She glanced between the two men, her tone firm but calm. “We don’t have time for this. If Joe’s ranch is the safest place, then we go. Joanie needs to be safe. That’s the priority. Period.”

Steve looked at Mary and nodded, his expression softening slightly. “She’s right. We’ll figure out the logistics, but we need to leave tonight.”

Danny exhaled sharply, his head tilting back as he let out a bitter chuckle. “Fine,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “But don’t expect me to sing Kumbaya and hold hands the whole way.”

Steve glanced at him, his lips quirking into the faintest hint of a smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied.

The moment was fleeting, the tension still palpable but momentarily tempered. Mary shifted Joanie in her arms, glancing toward the hallway. “I’ll start packing her things,” she said quietly, already moving to the bedroom.

As Steve turned back to the window, Danny lingered for a moment longer, his arms still crossed as his gaze flicked to Joanie’s door. “You better hope this plan of yours doesn’t blow up in our faces,” he said softly, his tone carrying more weight than bite.

Steve didn’t look back, but his voice was steady. “It won’t.”

Danny shook his head, muttering under his breath as he pushed off the table and headed toward his bag. The uneasy quiet that followed was broken only by the faint rustle of Mary gathering Joanie’s things and the low hum of their hurried preparations.

The clock was ticking.

By the time night fell, the plan was in motion. They’d move under the cover of darkness, their departure quiet and deliberate.

Steve decided to take his truck. It was reliable, sturdy, and inconspicuous enough to blend in on backroads. Danny, however, had to make a pit stop—he needed to grab his belongings, pack, and check out of the hotel without raising suspicion.

They agreed to pick him up at 10:30 PM, and true to their word, Steve pulled up outside the hotel just as the clock struck the mark.

When Danny approached the truck, he spotted Mary in the back seat beside Joanie, the little girl already buckled into her car seat, her stuffed rabbit clutched tightly in her arms. Of course, Danny thought with a pang of exasperation. Just great.

He climbed into the passenger seat without a word, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder and his face set in a neutral mask. As he settled in, he didn’t spare a glance for the driver.

Instead, his gaze shifted behind him, landing on Joanie.
“You ready for a big adventure, sweetie?” he asked, his tone softer than he intended.

Joanie blinked up at him, her tired eyes wide and trusting. Her small hands hugged the rabbit closer to her chest as she answered, her voice small but clear. “With Uncle Danny?”

The simple question hit him straight in the chest, squeezing his heart in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Despite everything—the chaos, the tension, the uncertainty—her faith in him was so pure, so absolute, that it caught him off guard.

Danny chuckled softly, the sound carrying an edge of affection. “Yeah, sweetie. With Uncle Danny.”

Joanie nodded solemnly, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips as she rested her head back against her seat. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought to stay awake, but the weight of the day was winning.

Danny turned forward again, just as Steve started the truck with a low rumble. The cabin was quiet, save for the faint hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of Joanie shifting in her seat.

Danny sank into his own seat with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He cast a quick glance at Steve, whose expression was focused, determined, and—annoyingly—unbothered. Danny rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “This is going to be really great.”

Steve didn’t respond, but the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Danny noticed and immediately turned his attention to the passing streets outside, determined to ignore the subtle tension simmering between them.

As the truck rumbled down the dark road, Danny leaned his head back, stealing one last glance at Joanie through the rearview mirror. Her tiny form was tucked securely in her car seat, her hand resting on her stuffed rabbit, her breathing soft and even.

Despite himself, Danny’s chest ached with a protective warmth he couldn’t quite put into words. He let out another quiet sigh, preparing himself for whatever lay ahead. This was going to be a long ride.

The tension lingered as they navigated through the New Jersey traffic, the hum of the engine and the occasional honk from passing cars filling the silence. The glow of streetlights cast long shadows across the truck’s interior, illuminating their tired faces in fleeting bursts.

Danny sat with a paper map unfolded across his lap, his eyes scanning the highlighted route Steve had meticulously planned. His fingers traced the line absentmindedly, but his jaw tightened as he took in the sheer distance they still had to cover.

“Two days in a car,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough to carry over the engine’s hum. “With a toddler. And you.”

Steve, his hands steady on the wheel, didn’t respond right away. The faintest flicker of a smile ghosted across his face—subtle and fleeting, almost imperceptible in the dim light.
“Yeah,” Steve said finally, his tone quiet but certain. “But we’ll get there.”

The simplicity of the statement settled in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Danny glanced sideways at him, his chest tightening as he caught the look of quiet determination on Steve’s face. It wasn’t cocky or dismissive, just steady—a stark contrast to the turmoil Danny felt brewing inside.

He didn’t respond, instead turning his attention back to the map. His hands gripped the edges tighter than necessary, the paper crinkling slightly under his fingers.

The silence stretched, charged and uneasy, until Danny finally broke it. “You’re so sure, huh?” he said, his voice low and edged with something unnameable.

Steve didn’t take his eyes off the road, but there was a faint softness in his reply. “I have to be.”

Danny’s throat tightened at the quiet conviction in those words, and he looked away quickly, pretending to focus on the map again. The words hung in the air, heavy and inescapable.

In the backseat, Joanie stirred slightly in her car seat, her stuffed rabbit clutched tightly to her chest. Mary, seated beside her, glanced up and offered a reassuring smile to both men, as if silently reminding them of what was most important.

Danny exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face as he leaned back against the seat. “Two days,” he muttered again, quieter this time, as though saying it aloud might somehow make it more manageable.

Steve didn’t answer, but his hands tightened on the steering wheel, his focus unbroken as they merged onto the highway.

-

The hum of the tires on the road and the quiet murmur of Joanie’s sleepy breathing filled the truck as they left New Jersey behind. The city lights faded, replaced by the dark expanse of highways cutting through quieter suburbs and then, eventually, stretches of empty road.

Danny leaned his head back against the seat, staring out at the passing scenery, shifting to find a more comfortable position.

They’d agreed to take turns driving, limiting the stops as much as possible. Steve had insisted on taking the first leg, his steady hands gripping the wheel as the truck ate up miles of dark highway.

Danny knew he should sleep. The exhaustion of the previous night clung to him, a dull ache in his bones, and the low vibration of the engine seemed almost soothing. But as much as his body begged for rest, his mind refused to quiet.

He turned slightly, his head resting against the window, but the presence behind him was overwhelming. Joanie’s soft breaths, the faint creak of the car seat as she moved, and Mary’s quiet hum as she stroked her daughter’s hair—it all pressed on him, a reminder of the stakes they were driving toward.

And then there was Steve.

Even without looking, Danny was acutely aware of him, every movement he made, every subtle shift in his posture. The way his hands tightened on the wheel when another car passed too close, the occasional glance he threw toward the rearview mirror to check on Joanie.

Danny closed his eyes, trying to block it all out. He shifted again, tugging his jacket tighter around him, but sleep remained elusive. The tension coiled in his chest like a spring, refusing to let go.

Behind him, Joanie stirred, murmuring softly in her sleep. Danny’s eyes opened instinctively, and he turned slightly, glancing at her. She was still, her tiny hand clutching her stuffed rabbit as her head leaned against the car seat.

“Everything okay back there?” Steve’s voice broke the silence, low and even, as his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.
“Yeah,” Danny replied, his voice rougher than he intended. “She’s fine.

Steve nodded, his focus returning to the road ahead. “You should try to get some rest,” he said, the softness in his tone catching Danny off guard.

Danny let out a soft huff, leaning back against the seat again. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he muttered, his sarcasm lacking its usual bite.

The road stretched on, the darkness outside pressing against the windows. Danny’s eyes closed again, but his thoughts refused to settle. The presence of the man beside him was suffocating, a constant reminder of everything left unsaid.

The night was going to be long.

Chapter 6: 6

Danny had finally fallen asleep. The hum of the engine, the rhythmic sway of the truck, and sheer exhaustion had finally lulled him into a restless slumber. When his eyes blinked open, the sky was cracked with the faintest light of dawn, a soft gray filtering through the windows.

They were parked at a gas station, the engine off, the silence disorienting after hours of constant movement. For a second, he felt a pang of unease—Steve wasn’t in the car.

But then he saw him, stepping out of the small shop with three coffees in hand. Steve moved with the same deliberate grace he always had, his gaze flicking instinctively toward the truck as he approached.

Danny straightened in his seat, rubbing his eyes as Steve opened the driver’s side door and slid in. “Hey,” Steve said softly, his voice carrying a warm, easy familiarity, accompanied by a wry smile.

Before he could stop himself, Danny replied, “Hey yourself,” the words slipping out instinctively, like muscle memory. The moment they left his mouth, he bit his tongue, silently cursing the old habit.

Steve’s smile widened, just a little, his eyes holding a glimmer of something Danny couldn’t quite place. He held out one of the cups. “Here. Thought you’d want a coffee.”

Danny hesitated for half a second before taking it, his fingers brushing Steve’s briefly as he grabbed the cup. “Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice gruff. He took a sip, letting the warmth seep into him as he tried to ignore the knot in his chest.

From the backseat, Mary reached out, clearing her throat pointedly as she held her hand between them. “I’d like my cup, too, if you don’t mind,” she said, her tone light but teasing.

Steve chuckled softly, handing over the second cup. “Here you go.”

Mary took it with a small smile before glancing down at Joanie, who was still sound asleep, her small form nestled snugly in the car seat.

Danny turned to look at her as well, her peaceful face a welcome sight amidst the tension of the past hours. He smiled faintly, the sight easing some of the weight in his chest.

“She’s a hard sleeper,” Mary said quietly, her voice affectionate.

“Good,” Danny murmured, his smile softening further as he turned back around, cradling the coffee cup in his hands. For a moment, the world felt still, the quiet of the early morning wrapping around them like a fragile cocoon.

The moment didn’t last long, but it lingered enough to remind them all—sometimes, even in the chaos, there were these small, fleeting respites.

-

They got back on the road, the truck humming steadily as it cut through the early morning light. The tension that had clung to Danny like a second skin seemed to ease slightly. He leaned back in his seat, the warmth of the coffee still lingering in his hands. His body relaxed, his head resting lightly against the window as his eyes fluttered closed, the road ahead a blur in his peripheral vision.

Joanie remained profoundly asleep in the back, her little form unmoving save for the soft rise and fall of her chest. Mary, sitting beside her, had started a quiet conversation with Steve, her voice low and easy.

Danny wasn’t paying attention—or at least, that’s what he told himself. But the truth was, no matter how much he tried to shut it out, he couldn’t help but catch snippets of their words. It wasn’t what they were saying that pulled at him, but how they were saying it.

Steve’s voice.

That damn voice.

The voice he could never forget.

Once, it had been the source of comfort, grounding him through chaos and giving him strength when he thought he had none left. That voice had carried him through battles, both literal and figurative.

But now?

Now it was a cruel reminder. Every time Steve spoke, the sound stirred something inside Danny he didn’t want to face—emotions he had spent years trying to bury. Anger. Betrayal. Sadness. Hurt.
Danny’s hands clenched against his thighs as he stared out at the passing landscape, trying to block it out. He wanted to be at peace. He wanted to move on, to let go of the storm raging in his chest.
But peace felt impossible when Steve was so close.

The man who had been his partner, his confidant, his anchor. The man who had left him.

Danny’s jaw tightened as he shifted in his seat, his fingers brushing against the cool glass of the window. Why did he have to cope with all this mess again? Why did life have to bring Steve back into his orbit, dredging up all the things he’d spent years trying to forget?

He closed his eyes, willing himself to focus on the gentle hum of the engine, the faint rustle of Joanie in her sleep, and Mary’s soft, steady voice. Anything but the voice that made him feel everything he didn’t want to feel.

But no matter how much he tried, the memories were there, lingering like shadows at the edges of his mind.

The road stretched ahead, long and uncertain, much like the mess of emotions Danny found himself navigating.

-

Their next stop was a rest area just past the Pennsylvania border. The sky was brighter now, streaks of soft morning light spilling over the horizon as they pulled into the lot. It was time to stretch their legs, grab some breakfast, and, most importantly, take care of Joanie, who had woken up hungry and in need of a diaper change.

As soon as the truck door opened, Joanie’s little hand tugged insistently at Danny’s coat. “Up,” she demanded, her voice still thick with sleep.

Danny scooped her up without hesitation, holding her close. She nestled her head against his shoulder, her tiny fingers gripping his collar as she blinked blearily at the world around her.

Mary smiled softly at the sight, warmth in her expression as she reached into the back to retrieve Joanie’s bag. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger, you know,” she teased lightly.

Danny smirked, brushing it off as he adjusted Joanie in his arms. “Yeah, well, she’s got good taste in uncles.”

Steve, already out of the truck, took the lead toward the small diner at the edge of the rest stop. He reached the door first and held it open, glancing back at the group.

Danny stepped through with Joanie still perched on his hip, their eyes meeting briefly as he muttered, “Thanks.” Their gazes locked for a beat, something unspoken passing between them before Danny broke away, focusing on Joanie, who had started babbling about a dog she’d spotted in the parking lot.

Mary followed them inside, giving Steve a quick smile as she passed. The diner was modest but warm, the smell of coffee and pancakes filling the air.

They located a free booth near the back, and Danny handed Joanie over to Mary so she could take her to the restroom for a diaper change.

While the girls were gone, Danny and Steve went ahead and sat at the table. Danny slid into the seat across from Steve, his movements deliberate and stiff. He busied himself with the sugar packets on the table, tearing at the edges and stacking them neatly, his eyes darting everywhere but toward the man in front of him.

The waitress came by with a friendly smile, placing menus on the table. Before Danny could say a word, Steve ordered their coffees with practiced ease, barely glancing up. “We’ll order the rest when the girls are back,” he added, nodding toward the restroom.

Danny raised an eyebrow, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I could’ve changed my taste in coffee, you know,” he said, his tone edged with something between bitterness and challenge. “After three years, maybe I like lattes or cappuccinos now. You didn’t even ask.”

Steve paused, his gaze steady but unreadable as he seemed to consider the comment. After a moment of silence, he replied, his tone calm but firm, “Nope. You didn’t change in ten years, Danny. Coffee was the most important thing to you—next to your kids. You wouldn’t change now.”

Danny’s jaw tightened as he stared at Steve, his fingers idly tearing at the edge of a sugar packet. His voice dropped lower, sharper, when he responded. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong.” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with Steve’s, hard and unyielding. “Coffee wasn’t the most important thing to me after my kids. For ten years, that was you.”

Steve flinched almost imperceptibly, the words hitting him with the force of a gut punch. His composure faltered for just a moment, his shoulders tensing as he opened his mouth to reply. “Dan—”

“Hey! There she goes!” Danny interrupted abruptly, his tone shifting as Joanie came running toward the table, her little legs moving as fast as they could. Mary followed close behind in case Joanie tripped.

Mary sat down next to Steve, pulling Joanie onto her lap. Joanie giggled, oblivious to the charged atmosphere around her. Steve, meanwhile, turned his head toward the window, his jaw tight and his brow furrowed as he tried to collect himself.

The waitress returned just then, pen in hand. Danny quickly glanced over the menu, his voice a little lighter now as he asked Joanie, “What would you love to eat, sweetie?”

Joanie’s eyes lit up as she jumped in Mary’s lap, exclaiming, “Pancapes!” joyfully.

Danny laughed at her little cry, his grin softening his features. “I love that too,” he said, his tone warm, making the little girl giggle with delight. He turned to the waitress and ordered pancakes for himself and Joanie, much to her obvious delight.

Mary opted for eggs, while Steve—his expression still pinched—simply shook his head.

“Not hungry,” he muttered, his voice low.

Danny frowned but didn’t press, instead turning his attention back to Joanie, who was babbling excitedly about pancakes and syrup. For now, he let the moment pass, though the tension lingered like an unwelcome guest at the table.

As they waited for their food, Danny found himself drawn into Joanie’s cheerful chatter. She was animated, her tiny hands waving as she talked about the “big doggie” she’d seen outside and how she couldn’t wait to eat her “pancapes.”

Mary smiled warmly, brushing Joanie’s hair back as she listened, clearly savoring the lightness her daughter brought to the moment.

Steve, meanwhile, remained quiet, his gaze fixed somewhere out the window, though Danny noticed his hands were clenched slightly on the edge of the table. His usual composure seemed to have cracks in it, though he worked hard to keep them hidden.

When their food arrived, Joanie clapped her hands in delight, immediately diving into her pancakes with gusto. Danny couldn’t help but grin as he watched her, cutting her food into smaller pieces to help her along.

“Slow down, sweetie,” he teased lightly. “The pancakes aren’t going anywhere.”

Joanie giggled, syrup smeared across her cheeks, and Danny handed her a napkin with a soft chuckle.

The sound of Joanie’s laughter seemed to soften the atmosphere, the tension at the table ebbing just slightly. Danny leaned back in his seat, sipping his coffee as Joanie babbled on between bites, the little girl happily sharing her thoughts on syrup, bunnies, and the dog she was convinced would be her new best friend.

Mary shook her head, her smile widening. “She’s got a whole world in her head,” she said softly, her affection evident.

“Yeah,” Danny said, glancing at Joanie with a faint smile. “She’s something else.”

His tone was warm, but as his gaze drifted, it snagged on Steve. The man was still staring out the window, his coffee untouched, his expression unreadable but tight. Danny’s brow furrowed slightly, his earlier irritation creeping back in.

“Hey,” Danny said, his voice low enough not to disturb Joanie’s chatter. “You gonna sit there brooding all morning, or are you actually going to drink your coffee before it gets cold?”

Steve blinked, as though pulled from a faraway thought. He turned back to Danny, his jaw working for a moment before he looked at the coffee. Without a word, he picked up the cup and downed it in one swallow. Setting the cup back on the table, he locked eyes with Danny. “Happy?”

“Very,” Danny muttered, his tone edged with sarcasm.

Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly, but before he could respond, Joanie spoke up, her voice bright and cheerful. “Uncle Steve, wants pancapes?” she asked, her syrup-smeared face beaming at him.

Danny exhaled sharply, his irritation momentarily diffused by Joanie’s perfect timing.

“Thank you, Jojo, that’s nice of you,” Steve said softly, taking the little pancake she was offering him, her sticky fingers leaving syrup on his hand. He smiled faintly at her, his tone warm and gentle despite the tension in the air.

Mary glanced between Danny and Steve, her lips pressing into a thin line. “How about we all focus on breakfast?” she suggested lightly, her tone pointed but kind.

Danny didn’t answer, instead focusing on cutting another piece of pancake. Steve, meanwhile, returned to staring out the window, though his hands tightened slightly around his now empty coffee cup.

The tension lingered, quieter but still present, like an undercurrent neither of them could quite shake.

-

As they left the diner, Joanie seemed to find her second wind the moment her feet hit the ground. She toddled around the grassy patch near the parking lot, her little legs moving quickly as she chased after a small flock of birds. The birds scattered as she ran toward them, her laughter soft but infectious.

Danny leaned against the truck, arms crossed as he watched her, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “Let her burn off some energy,” he said to Mary, nodding toward Joanie. “She’s been cooped up too long already.”

Mary nodded in agreement, though her gaze drifted toward Steve, who stood a little farther away. His eyes swept the area with practiced vigilance, his posture relaxed but unmistakably alert. Every so often, his head turned, scanning the surroundings as though waiting for something—or someone—to appear.

Danny sighed, running a hand over his face. “You think he even remembers how to relax?”

Mary offered a tired smile. “I doubt it. Not with how things are right now.”

Danny let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head as he turned back toward Joanie. “Man needs to take a lesson from her,” he muttered, watching as Joanie stumbled after another group of birds, her giggles ringing through the crisp morning air.

After a few more minutes, Danny pushed off the truck and walked toward the driver’s side. Without giving Steve a choice, he held out his hand. “Keys,” he said firmly. “I’m driving. You need to sleep.”

Steve turned to him, one brow raising in challenge. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Danny shot back, his voice gruff. “You’re running on fumes, McGarrett, and I don’t need you nodding off while we’re barreling down the highway.”

Steve didn’t budge at first, his fingers curling around the keys like he wasn’t willing to give them up. “I’m good, Danny.”

“Yeah, well, I’m better,” Danny replied sharply, his hand still outstretched. “So hand them over.”

The two men locked eyes, the silence between them crackling with tension. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Steve relented. With a low sigh, he placed the keys in Danny’s hand.

Danny slid into the driver’s seat, glancing at Steve as he did. “Take a break,” he said, his tone softer now but still firm. He gestured toward the passenger side. “You’re no good to anyone half-asleep.”

Steve hesitated for another second before climbing into the passenger seat without argument.

Mary and Joanie settled into the back, Joanie happily playing with her stuffed rabbit. The little girl hummed softly as she hugged the toy, her energy finally beginning to wane again.

Danny adjusted the seat and mirrors before starting the truck, his hands gripping the wheel. He glanced at Steve one more time, catching the slight droop in his shoulders and the lines of exhaustion around his eyes.

“Close your eyes,” Danny muttered. “I’ll get us where we need to go.”

Steve didn’t respond immediately, but after a long moment, he leaned his head against the window, his eyes slipping shut..

-

Chapter 7: 7

As they got back on the road, the hum of the tires filled the truck once again, a steady rhythm that seemed to match the soft rise and fall of Joanie’s chatter in the backseat. Steve was out cold, his head tilted against the window, his face slack with exhaustion. A small victory, Danny thought, his eyes flicking briefly toward him before returning to the road.

Mary, sitting in the back with Joanie curled comfortably beside her, glanced at Danny, her expression thoughtful. For a moment, she hesitated, as if debating whether to speak. Then, with a careful tone, she broke the silence.

“You know, Danny,” she started, her voice light but tinged with something deeper, “Joanie really likes you.”

Danny’s brow furrowed slightly as he glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, well, she’s a great kid. Easy to like.”

Mary smiled faintly, smoothing her hand over Joanie’s hair as the little girl hummed contentedly. “She doesn’t warm up to people that quickly,” Mary added, her voice soft but insistent. “You’ve got a way with her.”

Danny shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I like kids. Always have. They’re easy to understand, you know? Straightforward. You just have to pay attention.”

Mary tilted her head, her smile growing as she watched Danny’s reflection in the mirror. “You’re good with her,” she said quietly. “It’s like second nature to you.”

Danny’s grip on the wheel tightened slightly, his knuckles whitening for a brief moment. His tone, however, remained casual. “I’ve had practice.” He glanced at Mary again, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. “Gracie, Charlie—they keep you on your toes. Teach you a lot about patience and, uh… everything else.”

Mary nodded, her gaze softening further. “Thank you for believing me and helping us,” she said sincerely. Her voice dipped lower as she added, “She’s lucky to have you around, you know. I think she already feels safe with you.”

The words landed harder than Danny expected, striking a chord deep in his chest. For a moment, he didn’t respond, his throat tightening as he focused on the road. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost pensive.

“That’s what matters, right?” he said, his eyes flicking briefly to the mirror. “Making sure she’s safe. You know, there’s something I hate more than kids being abducted by their mother—it’s kids being menaced, being in danger. That’s… that’s something I can’t stand.”

Mary hesitated, her eyes darting to Joanie, who was now babbling quietly to her bunny, before returning to Danny. “Yeah,” she murmured softly, the weight of the conversation hanging between them.

She opened her mouth to say something more, but Danny cut her off gently, his tone shifting briskly. “So, what’s Joanie’s favorite song, huh? I need to know if I’m gonna survive this road trip.”

Mary blinked, her train of thought derailed by the sudden change in topic. A soft laugh escaped her as the tension eased slightly. “She’s obsessed with anything Disney right now. If you can sing Let It Go, you’ll be her new favorite.”

Danny groaned, his head tilting back dramatically. “Of course, it’s Frozen. Figures.”

Joanie perked up instantly at the mention of her favorite song. “Elsa!” she cried, her bunny bouncing excitedly in her lap.

Danny glanced at her in the rearview mirror, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Well, sweetie, I guess you’ll have to teach me the words.”

Joanie giggled, clapping her hands. “Okay, Uncle Danny!”

Mary watched the exchange with a warm smile, her eyes lingering on Danny’s reflection in the mirror. When he caught her gaze, there was a flicker of unspoken gratitude between them, an acknowledgment of his role in their little group.

Danny didn’t say anything, but as Joanie babbled happily about princesses and snowmen, he felt his grip on the wheel relax slightly. The sound of her laughter filled the truck, a brief reprieve from the weight that had been pressing on all of them.

The morning wore on in relative quiet, the miles stretching out endlessly before them. Mary and Joanie had fallen asleep, their soft, even breaths a faint backdrop to the steady hum of the engine.

Danny reached for the radio, his fingers adjusting the dial until a familiar melody broke through the static. The unmistakable notes of Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run filled the truck, the music wrapping around him like an old, worn-in jacket.

He let the song seep into his bones, his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel in rhythm. The words spilled out of him softly, careful not to disturb the other occupants of the car, as he sang along.

“The highway's jammed with broken heroes
On a last chance power drive
Everybody's out on the run tonight
But there's no place left to hide...
Together, Wendy, we can live with the sadness
I'll love you with all the madness in my soul...”

Danny’s voice carried through the truck, low and gravelly, full of quiet sincerity. The lyrics felt like a balm, grounding him, pulling him out of the swirl of emotions that had chased him relentlessly since this journey began. This song, of course, had a deep meaning to him—but for the first time in days, he wasn’t thinking with resentment and anger. Just the road, the music, and the moment.

And then he felt it—that subtle prickling sensation of being watched.

He turned his head slightly toward the passenger seat, his fingers still tapping out the rhythm on the wheel. His gaze landed on Steve, who was leaning back against the seat, his eyes fixed on Danny
with an expression that was impossible to read.

“What?” Danny asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Steve shook his head slightly, a faint, almost wistful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Nothing,” he said softly.

Danny huffed, turning his attention back to the road. “If you’ve got something to say, McGarrett, just say it.”

Steve didn’t respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than Danny expected. “It’s just… you have a nice voice. I think it’s the first time I’ve heard you sing.”

Danny’s grip on the wheel tightened briefly, his knuckles whitening for a moment before he relaxed again. He didn’t look at Steve, his eyes firmly on the horizon ahead. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I don’t do concerts.”

Steve’s smile widened slightly, though it was tinged with something more complicated—something Danny didn’t want to name. “Didn’t say I was planning to,” he replied, his voice carrying a lightness that didn’t quite mask the deeper emotion beneath. “But… too bad.”

The quiet returned, but it wasn’t heavy this time. It felt… easier. More familiar.

Danny’s voice didn’t pick up the song again, but his fingers kept tapping lightly on the wheel, the rhythm steady and sure. Steve shifted in his seat, his gaze drifting to the window, but his expression lingered somewhere between wistfulness and contentment.

“Bruce Springsteen, huh?” Steve said lightly, his voice cutting through the silence with a small smile.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? The Boss, New Jersey—it’ll always be a part of me,” Danny replied without his usual bite.

“I know,” Steve said. He trailed off for a second, glancing at his hands before continuing, “That’s why I told Mary to go to New Jersey with Joanie.”

Danny froze, his grip on the wheel tightening. “What?”

Steve nodded to himself as if confirming his own words. “Because you… you couldn’t stop talking about it back then. You even had that postcard in your car, remember?”

Danny’s jaw tightened, and he turned his head slightly toward the window, his voice restrained. “Yeah. Of course, I remember.”

“So, I thought…” Steve continued, his voice growing softer. “I thought maybe if you had passed those good moments there—good childhood, and all—then it would be good for Joanie too, you know?” He trailed off, looking down before adding, “Guess I was wrong again.”

Danny snapped his head toward him, his eyes narrowing for a second. “Don’t!” he said sharply, his tone cutting through the air. Steve flinched slightly but held his gaze, bracing himself for a blow.
“Don’t you dare put this on New Jersey,” Danny continued, looking at the road before locking eyes with Steve again. “They would’ve been good there if it wasn’t for Makani finding them. New Jersey is a good place to raise a kid, okay?”

Steve breathed out a laugh, a faint, dry sound that wasn’t quite humorless. “What?” Danny asked, frowning.

Steve raised his hands in mock surrender. “Nothing, nothing. You’re probably right.”

“Damn right, I’m right,” Danny replied, the New Jersey pride puffing in his chest.

When he turned his head again, Steve was staring at him with that glint in his eyes, that familiar goofy smile that had once been a constant. And oh, God, that look, that smile—it hit him like a punch to the chest.

Danny’s heart clenched painfully, and he couldn’t deal with it. Not now. Not ever. He couldn’t.

The hurt must’ve shown on his face because Steve’s expression shifted too, his smile faltering as he took in Danny’s grimace. The blow seemed to land on Steve as much as it did on Danny.

Danny focused on the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He felt tears prickling at his eyes, emotions bubbling up so fiercely it felt like they might spill over. But he refused to let them fall.
He clenched his jaw so tightly it was a wonder he didn’t break a tooth. His grip on the wheel didn’t loosen. The tension radiated off him, sharp and unrelenting.

With a shaking breath, Danny cracked the window open, the cold air hitting his face like a slap. It was sharp and bracing, but it was what he needed. He focused on the cool rush against his skin, letting it ground him as his chest rose and fell. In and out. In and out.

Behind him, he heard Steve shift in his seat, the faint creak of leather filling the quiet truck. He could feel Steve watching him again, that heavy gaze that always seemed to dig into the parts of him he didn’t want exposed. But still, Danny didn’t look.

“Danny,” Steve finally said, his voice low and tentative.

Danny didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. His hands gripped the wheel tighter, his knuckles white. He didn’t trust himself to speak—not yet.

Steve tried again, softer this time. “Danny… you okay?”

That did it. The words snapped something inside Danny, and he huffed out a sharp laugh, bitter and humorless. “You’re asking me if I’m okay?” he said, his voice rough. He shook his head, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “That’s rich.”

Steve shifted again, leaning slightly closer. “I mean it,” he said quietly. “You’re—”

“What, McGarrett?” Danny interrupted, his tone sharper now, cutting through the space between them. “What do you mean? Because if you’ve got something to say, now’s the time to say it. Otherwise, just sit there and let me drive.”

Steve hesitated, the weight of the moment hanging between them like a storm cloud. Finally, he exhaled, his voice steady but laced with something raw. “I just… I know I screwed things up, okay? I know that.”

Danny’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as he fought the wave of emotion threatening to crash over him. “No, you don’t know anything,” he said, his voice blank, devoid of the usual fire that accompanied his words. It was flat, almost eerily calm, but beneath it lay something raw and unspoken, like a wound that refused to close.

Danny’s eyes stayed fixed on the road, his jaw tightening again as if to keep everything else bottled up.

For a moment, the silence in the truck felt deafening, filled with everything unspoken between them.

Steve shifted again behind him, but Danny didn’t look. The tension sat heavy in the truck, thick and suffocating, like a storm waiting to break.

The silence stretched, broken only by the hum of the tires on the road and the soft strains of the radio. It was Mary who finally spoke, her voice quiet but firm, cutting through the quiet like a gentle breeze.

“Danny,” she said, her tone carrying a softness that made him glance briefly at the rearview mirror. Her expression was careful, but there was a flicker of concern in her eyes. “I know this is… a lot. For all of us. But especially for you.”

Danny let out a low huff, his eyes flicking back to the road. “Mary, don’t—”

“I’m not trying to pry,” she interjected quickly, her voice still calm but insistent. “I’m just saying… it’s okay to let yourself breathe. To let yourself feel it. All of it.”

Danny’s grip on the wheel tightened, his jaw working as he struggled to form a response. “I’m breathing,” he said finally, his voice gruff and clipped. “Plenty of air coming in and out right now.”

Mary didn’t argue, but the silence that followed felt heavier somehow, weighted with the things neither of them was saying.

A soft murmur from the backseat broke the tension. “Uncle Danny?”

Danny’s eyes flicked to the mirror again, his heart softening at the sight of Joanie rubbing her eyes, her bunny clutched tightly to her chest. Her small voice carried through the truck like a lifeline.

“Yeah, sweetie?” Danny said, his voice gentler now.

“I’m thirsty,” she said, her tone a mix of sleepiness and plaintiveness.

Danny let out a low chuckle, the sound easing some of the tightness in his chest. “Alright, sweetie. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Mary leaned over, grabbing a water bottle from Joanie’s bag and handing it to her. As Danny continued driving, he watched in the mirror as Joanie took a long sip, her small hands clutching the bottle tightly before leaning back against Mary’s side. “Better?” he asked, his voice rough but trying to soften for her.

Joanie nodded sleepily, her bunny still tucked under one arm. “Uh-huh,” she murmured, her eyelids already drooping as she curled closer to Mary.

Steve shifted again, his voice breaking the quiet. “We can stop at the next rest area if she needs anything else.”

Danny glanced at him, his expression neutral but tinged with something softer. “She’s fine,” Mary said

Joanie murmured something incomprehensible, her little voice trailing off as she hugged her bunny and drifted back toward sleep.

Mary smiled faintly, brushing a hand over her daughter’s hair as she settled back against the seat. Danny kept his eyes fixed on the road, but his grip on the wheel relaxed slightly.

The silence returned, but this time it felt less strained, the weight of the moment eased by Joanie’s small voice and Mary’s quiet presence.

Steve shifted again, but this time Danny glanced at him briefly, their eyes meeting for just a second before he turned back to the road. For once, there was no sarcasm, no sharp edge to his gaze—just something unspoken that hung in the air between them.

And for a while, the miles stretched out ahead of them with a little less tension, the hum of the tires and Joanie’s soft breaths filling the space.

Chapter 8: 8

Around 12:30, they pulled into a rest stop. Little Joanie, despite her pancake feast that morning, had declared she was hungry again, her small voice breaking the silence with a decisive, “I want food!”
Danny had sighed, muttering something about growing kids as he maneuvered the truck into a parking spot. But truthfully, he was glad for the excuse to get out of the car. The close quarters, the unspoken words, the lingering tension—every moment in the truck felt like it was slowly chipping away at him.

As soon as they stopped, Joanie perked up, her energy returning as if she hadn’t just spent hours dozing. She squirmed out of her seat, her bunny clutched in one hand as she reached for Danny.
“Uncle Danny!” she chirped, her little arms outstretched.

Danny opened her door and scooped her up with practiced ease, her tiny fingers wrapping around his collar as she nestled against him. “Alright, sweetie,” he said, adjusting her on his hip. “Let’s get you something to eat before you start chewing on your bunny.”

Joanie giggled, and from behind him, Steve chuckled softly. “Need me to carry her?” he offered, his tone casual.

Danny turned, narrowing his eyes playfully. “I’ve got it. What, you think I can’t handle one little munchkin?”

Steve smirked, stepping closer. “I’m just saying, she might prefer her favorite uncle.”

Joanie, hearing the exchange, turned her head toward Steve with a wide grin. “Uncle Steve!” she squealed, holding out her bunny toward him.

Steve raised an eyebrow, looking smug. “See? She knows what’s up.”

With a huff, Danny handed Joanie over, muttering, “Fine. But you’re on food duty if she starts making demands.”

Steve took Joanie easily, settling her against his side as she giggled and tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. “No problem. What are you in the mood for, kiddo?” he asked, looking down at her with a warm smile.

“Fries!” Joanie declared with enthusiasm.

“Fries it is,” Steve said, laughing as he carried her toward the small diner nearby. Mary and Danny followed, Mary watching the interaction with a fond smile while Danny shoved his hands in his pockets, muttering something about Joanie being spoiled.

Inside, they found a booth near the window, and Steve sat Joanie down next to him, helping her set her bunny carefully on the table. “Alright,” he said, sliding the menu toward her. “Let’s find something good, huh?”

Joanie nodded seriously, her eyes wide as she scanned the menu, even though she couldn’t read a word of it.

“Fries,” she said again, pointing at a random spot.

Steve pretended to scrutinize the menu where she was pointing. “Excellent choice,” he said, nodding gravely. “Fries it is. But how about some chicken nuggets, too? You’ll need protein to keep up with all that energy.”

Joanie considered this for a moment before nodding. “Okay!”

As Steve flagged down the waitress to place the order, Mary leaned across the table, smiling at Danny. “You have to admit,” she said softly, “he’s good with her.”

Danny glanced over at Steve and Joanie. She was giggling as Steve helped her fold her bunny’s ears over its face like a mask, the two of them whispering conspiratorially about something. A pang shot through Danny’s chest, sharp and unexpected, but he forced it down, shrugging. “Yeah, well,” he muttered, “everyone’s got their moments.”

Mary didn’t push, but the knowing look in her eyes lingered as she leaned back.

When the food arrived, Steve took charge of cutting Joanie’s chicken nuggets into smaller pieces, even blowing on them to cool them down before offering them to her. “Here you go, kiddo,” he said, sliding the plate closer. “Fries, nuggets, and a little bit of ketchup. Perfect meal.”

Joanie beamed at him, her face lighting up as she dug in. “Thank you, Uncle Steve!”

Danny rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “Careful,” he said dryly, “she’s gonna start thinking you’re some kind of hero.”

Steve smirked, meeting Danny’s gaze across the table. “Well, if the shoe fits…”

Danny huffed, shaking his head, but the banter eased some of the weight in his chest. For a little while, as Joanie ate and the conversation stayed light, the tension faded into the background.

Outside, the sun was bright, the air crisp, and for a brief moment, it felt like they were just a family on a road trip.

When Joanie finished her meal, she leaned back against the booth, her belly full, her bunny tucked under her chin. She looked up at Steve with wide eyes. “Uncle Steve, can we see more birds?”

Steve chuckled, wiping a spot of ketchup off her cheek with a napkin. “More birds, huh? Alright, let’s see if we can find some.” He glanced at Danny. “We’ll be right outside.”

Danny waved them off, sitting back in the booth with his coffee in hand. “Go ahead, bird whisperer. Don’t let her fly away.”

Steve grinned, standing up and scooping Joanie into his arms. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s go find those birds.”

Mary watched them leave, a faint smile on her lips. She turned back to Danny, studying him carefully. “You’re quieter than usual,” she said after a moment.

Danny shrugged, not meeting her gaze. “Just thinking.”

Mary’s smile softened, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know. Whatever’s going on up there…” she gestured vaguely to his head, “you can share it.”

Danny huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, sharing’s never been my strong suit.”

“Maybe not,” Mary replied. “But I think it’s worth trying. Especially with him.”

Danny’s jaw tightened, his fingers drumming lightly against his coffee cup. “It’s not that simple.”

Mary tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “It could be.”

Danny didn’t answer, instead watching out the window where Steve and Joanie were walking across the grassy patch behind the diner. Steve crouched down, pointing at something, and Joanie clapped her hands excitedly, her bunny dangling from her grip.

Mary didn’t push further, letting the conversation fall away as Danny stared out the window, his chest tightening as he watched Steve lift Joanie up so she could reach for the low branches of a tree. Her laughter rang out, clear and bright, and despite everything, it tugged at something deep inside him.

Steve glanced back toward the diner then, catching Danny’s gaze through the window. For a second, their eyes met. Steve’s expression softened, something unspoken passing between them before
Danny looked away, his jaw tightening again.

When Steve and Joanie returned, Joanie was grinning, holding a small feather in her hand. “Uncle Steve found me a bird feather!” she exclaimed, waving it like a trophy.

“Lucky find,” Steve said, setting her down gently and giving Danny a quick glance, his smile easy but his eyes searching.

“Great,” Danny said, his voice teasing but warm. “Now she’s gonna want to be a birdwatcher.”

Joanie giggled, holding the feather up to Danny. “You can have it, Uncle Danny!”

Danny crouched slightly to take the feather, his smile softening as he looked at her. “Thanks, sweetie. I’ll treasure it forever.”

As they packed up to head back to the truck, the tension in Danny’s chest felt just a little lighter. It wasn’t gone, not entirely, but for now, the road ahead seemed a little less heavy.

-

They spread the map across the hood of the truck, the crinkled paper catching the afternoon light in soft, golden tones. The sun hung low in the sky, painting the world in a warmth that belied the tension coiled between them. Mary stood nearby, crouched down as Joanie showed her bunny how to balance on a rock, her high-pitched giggles occasionally floating over to where the two men bent
over the map.

“Only you would still work with a paper map,” Danny said mockingly, his arms crossed as he leaned lazily against the truck. His tone was teasing, but there was an edge of fondness in his voice that even he didn’t bother to hide.

“It’s to stay low radar, Danny,” Steve replied, feigning a wounded look as he tapped a finger against the map. His expression, as practiced as it was, couldn’t quite mask the amusement lurking in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Whatever,” Danny said, waving a dismissive hand but smirking all the same. He tilted his head toward the map. “So, what do you think? We’re moving fast enough?”

“Pretty good, yeah,” Steve said, glancing up from the map, his lips curling into a faint grin. “We should be at Chicago by tonight.”

Danny nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. “You think they’re on our heels?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the question carrying more weight than he intended.

Steve’s gaze lingered on the horizon for a moment, his expression sharpening as his mind worked. “Probably, yeah. But how far, I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice steady but tinged with something restrained.

Danny’s eyes flicked toward Joanie, who was now spinning in happy circles, her bunny soaring like a superhero above her head. The sight tugged at something deep in his chest, softening the edges of his tension. “We’re lucky with the road,” he murmured, his voice carrying a warmth he didn’t realize was there. “Especially with a toddler in tow.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, his gaze following Danny’s.

“She’s pretty awesome for her age,” Danny said, his words simple but heavy with affection.

Steve hummed in agreement, his expression softening as he watched Joanie stumble slightly, only to catch herself and burst into giggles. “She is,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something unspoken, a warmth that wrapped around his words and settled in the air between them.

Steve hesitated, his gaze lingering on Joanie before he turned his attention back to Danny. “Thanks, Danny,” he said suddenly, his tone serious and sincere in a way that made Danny pause.
Danny arched a brow, his smirk fading as he glanced over at Steve. “For what?”

“For helping us,” Steve said, his voice lower now, deliberate. He shifted slightly, his hand brushing over the edge of the map as he looked at Danny, his eyes unguarded in a way that caught Danny off guard. “It means a lot.”

Danny stared at him for a beat, his chest tightening as the weight of Steve’s words sank in. He finally looked away, his jaw tightening briefly before he muttered, “Yeah, well… I couldn’t let that man put his dirty hands on this lovely girl, right?” He nodded toward Joanie, his tone light but tinged with something rawer, something that hinted at more than he was willing to say.

Steve’s gaze didn’t waver. If anything, it softened further, though the intensity of it lingered.

“And not that I care,” Danny continued, his voice softening despite himself, “but it mostly means that…” He paused, the words catching in his throat as his grip on the map tightened. Finally, he glanced back at Steve, his blue eyes harder to read now, a storm brewing just beneath their surface. “It mostly means that we’re grown-ups who can deal with protecting a little kid and her mother without killing each other.”

Steve nodded slowly, his face serious but touched by a faint, shy smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “For what it’s worth, I never wanted to kill you… well, for now,” he said, his voice carrying a teasing lilt that couldn’t quite mask the softer undertone beneath.

Danny huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the map, brushing over its edges as if it needed straightening. “Yeah, sure,” he muttered, but there was no real bite in his words.

The weight of their exchange settled between them, heavy but not suffocating—more like the shared burden of a secret too big to put into words.

Mary’s voice broke the moment, her tone light and cheerful as she called over, “Joanie says the bunny wants to go on a big adventure!”

Danny snorted, his smirk returning. “Well, I hope the bunny’s got stamina, because we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

Steve chuckled, the sound low and warm as he folded up the map with practiced precision. “Then let’s make it happen,” he said, his tone lighter now but still threaded with purpose.

The two men shared a brief look—something unspoken passing between them, thick with meaning neither of them was quite ready to name—before they turned back toward the truck, ready to continue the journey.

As Danny moved toward the passenger seat, Steve called out, his tone low but insistent. “Let me,” he said gently, holding out an open hand. “Please,” he added, the word soft but weighted with genuine intent.

Danny paused, narrowing his eyes at him before rolling them dramatically. “Well, that’s new,” he said, his voice dripping with faux bitterness. “The control freak learned politeness. Must’ve been a tough lesson.”

Steve smirked, unfazed by the jab. “Miracles happen,” he replied smoothly. “Now, are you going to let me drive, or do I have to stand here all day convincing you?”

Danny huffed, muttering something under his breath before stepping aside, gesturing dramatically. “Fine. Go ahead, take the wheel. But don’t act like you’re doing me a favor.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Steve said, sliding into the driver’s seat with practiced ease.

Mary climbed in with Joanie, the little girl happily chattering about her bunny’s adventures. Steve adjusted the mirrors and started the truck, the hum of the engine filling the air as they pulled back onto the road.

For a while, the only sounds were Joanie’s soft giggles and the steady rhythm of the tires on the pavement. Danny leaned back in his seat, his gaze occasionally flicking toward Steve.

“You’re quiet,” Steve said after a while, his voice breaking the silence.

Danny glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. “And you’re not?”

Steve chuckled under his breath, keeping his eyes on the road. “Fair enough.”

From the backseat, From the backseat, Joanie piped up, her small voice cheerful and curious. “Uncle Steve, where we going?”

Steve glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his smile softening. “We’re heading to a place called Chicago, kiddo. It’s a big city with lots of fun things.”

Joanie’s eyes widened. “Ice cream ?”

Danny laughed softly, turning his head to look back at her. “Sweetie, there’s ice cream everywhere.”

Joanie grinned, clutching her bunny tightly. “Bunny want ice cream!”

“Bunny’s got good taste,” Steve said with a smile, his tone light but affectionate.

Danny shook his head, a faint smirk on his lips. “What is it with you two and ice cream?”

“Maybe it’s just good instincts,” Steve said smoothly, glancing briefly at Danny.

Danny didn’t answer immediately, instead letting the lighthearted moment settle over them. For now, the road stretched ahead, the tension between them softer but still present, waiting.

From the backseat, Joanie’s small voice piped up, cheerful and full of curiosity. “Uncle Danny, Elsa?”

Danny turned in his seat, arching a brow as he looked at her. “Elsa? You mean from Frozen?”

Joanie nodded eagerly, her bunny clutched tightly in her lap. “Sing?”

Steve let out a soft chuckle from the driver’s seat, his gaze flicking to Danny with a teasing glint. “She’s asking you to sing, Danny. Don’t let her down.”

Danny scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

Joanie’s face scrunched up in mock disappointment, her big eyes fixed on him. “Please?”

“You did promise her earlier,” Mary chimed in from the back, her tone light but undeniably mischievous.

Oh, God! Thanks, Mary,” Danny muttered dramatically, throwing his hands up. “How this is my life now?!” He sighed, muttering under his breath, “You’re killing me, kid.”

He glanced at Steve, who was grinning shamelessly. “Fine. But if I do this, I will not be alone, McGarrett! And Mary, you’re in this too!”

“Would love to help, but I don’t know the lyrics,” Steve replied, his smirk betraying his amusement.

“Oh, come on!” Danny groaned, placing a hand over his face in mock despair. He gestured toward Steve. “Let it go, let it go… You should survive, right?”

Danny reached for his phone, pulling up a clip of the song. The familiar first notes began to resonate through the truck, and he turned back to Joanie, clearing his throat dramatically.
“Alright, here it goes… Let it go, let it go...” His voice was soft, low, and gravelly, but he sang just enough to make Joanie giggle, her laughter filling the truck with warmth.

Midway through, Danny shot Steve a pointed look—You better not let me do this alone.

Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t miss a beat, he joined in with exaggerated enthusiasm when the refrain hit. He sang loudly and off-key, glancing at Joanie in the rearview mirror and grinning as she clapped her hands, getting even more excited.

Joanie squealed with delight, clapping along as her bunny bounced in her lap.

“Again!” she chirped, her laughter bubbling over.

“No way,” Danny said firmly, shaking his head. “That’s all you’re getting, kid.”

Steve glanced at him, his smirk broad and unashamed. “Not bad, Danny. I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny muttered, his cheeks slightly flushed as he leaned back in his seat. “You can thank me later.”

Joanie, still giggling, snuggled her bunny close. “Uncle Danny funny.”

Danny’s lips curved into a soft smile despite himself. “Yeah, sweetie. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Mary chuckled softly, her gaze flicking to Steve. “Well, I guess this road trip has its moments.”

Steve’s eyes met Danny’s briefly, something warm and unspoken passing between them. Danny quickly turned away, focusing on Joanie again, but the lingering smile on his face gave him away.

The three of them fell into an easy rhythm, their laughter and light conversation filling the car. Joanie sat contentedly in the back, playing with a puzzle game Mary had handed her.
“She loves these games,” Mary explained with a fond smile, watching Joanie carefully align the colorful pieces.

Somewhere in the joy of the moment, time seemed to slip away, the miles blending into one another. The road stretched on, but the lighthearted atmosphere made the journey feel less daunting.

-

Chapter 9: 9

For the first time in a long time, there was a sense of ease—something comforting and welcome, given the tension of their situation and the weight of their shared past. It was a small reprieve, but it made the car feel lighter, more bearable than the past twelve hours.

Then Danny’s phone rang, breaking the moment. He glanced at the screen before answering lightly, “Hey, Charlie. What’s up?”

At the name, Steve’s attention flicked toward Danny, his expression immediately shifting. He didn’t say anything, but his gaze lingered.

Danny turned his head toward the window, his voice lowering slightly. “Yeah, I know,” he said with a grimace. “Look, I’ll be gone for a few more days… I don’t know how long yet. Yeah, yeah, I know. Do your best, and I’ll watch your next match, alright?”

There was a pause as Danny sighed loudly, rubbing his hand over his face. “I know, Charlie, I know, okay? But I’m helping a little girl right now. She’s only three, you understand, right? I can’t let her down.”

“That’s… complicated,” Danny said, his voice softening as he grimaced. “I know. I told you I’d be gone for two days, three tops. But it’ll be longer. Yeah, I know. That’s me saying it, so I know, okay?
Look, do your best, be nice to your mom, and when I come back, I’ll make it up to you. Whatever you want. Deal?”

Danny’s voice lightened just slightly. “Let me know the score, okay? Yeah. Danno loves you. I know, I know—you’re twelve. But you’re still my son, so I get to tell you I love you.” His voice was softer now, affectionate. “Okay, bye, Charl.”

He ended the call, staring at his phone pensively. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at his lips.

“Twelve, huh?” Steve asked, his voice careful, his brow furrowing lightly.

Danny turned to him, his expression tightening slightly. “Yeah, twelve, Steve. Nine when you left, so nine plus three… twelve!” His words came out sharper than he intended.

Steve took the blow, exhaling hard as he absorbed it, his hands tightening briefly on the wheel. He wasn’t prepared for the sting of those words, and it showed in the slight flinch he didn’t manage to hide.

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration evident in his posture. “Look… sorry, okay? Even if it’s true, I didn’t mean to throw it at you like that. It’s just…” He trailed off, his voice dipping into something quieter. “It’s his semi-final match, and I won’t be there. He’s rubbing it in, and he’s totally right to do it. But…” He stopped, frustrated by his own rambling.

“It’s okay,” Steve said slowly, his voice steady but tinged with surprise. He wasn’t used to hearing Danny apologize for anything, especially harsh words.
After a beat, Steve asked cautiously, “Semi-final of what?”

Danny hesitated for a moment, then let out a soft, half-proud laugh. “Basketball.”

“Oh,” Steve replied, astonished and a little impressed. “That’s great.”

“Yeah,” Danny said, a small smile spreading across his face. “He’s really good. I can barely keep up with him now.”

Steve’s lips twitched into a faint smile, a touch of pride sneaking into his expression.

“I can’t imagine the two of you in a match,” Danny added after a moment. He froze, the words catching in his throat as his brain conjured an image he hadn’t allowed himself to think of in years. His chest tightened, and he ran a hand over his face, trying to push the thought away. What the hell am I saying?

Steve glanced at him, noticing the sudden tension but choosing his next words carefully. “I’d love to see him play,” he said, his voice cautious but sincere.

Danny didn’t respond immediately, staring out the window as if the scenery might offer him a way to steady himself. Finally, he let out a quiet sigh. “Yeah. You’d like it.”

Steve nodded, his gaze lingering on Danny for a moment longer before returning to the road. The conversation fell into silence again, but it wasn’t heavy this time—just thoughtful.

Joanie’s soft humming filled the air, her little voice creating a soothing backdrop as the miles stretched on. Mary glanced between the two men, her expression pensive but calm, as if she was taking in the subtle shifts between them.

After a while, Mary spoke, her voice gentle. “You know, Charlie sounds like a great kid.”

Danny glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “He is. A little too smart for his own good sometimes, but he’s got a good heart.”

Mary chuckled. “I think he gets that from his dad.”

Danny waved her off lightly, though the compliment settled warmly in his chest. “Yeah, maybe. Or maybe he just got lucky.”

Steve didn’t say anything, but his hands tightened slightly on the wheel, his expression unreadable.

Joanie, now finished with her puzzle, piped up from the backseat. “Uncle Danny?”

Danny turned in his seat, his brow raising. “Yeah, sweetie?”

“Bunny’s tired,” she said, holding up her well-loved toy with a sleepy pout.

Danny chuckled, his tone softening. “Well, I think Bunny’s not the only one. You wanna take a nap too?”

Joanie nodded, rubbing at her eyes. “’Kay.”

Mary adjusted her daughter’s seatbelt, tucking the bunny snugly into Joanie’s arms. Within minutes, the little girl was dozing off, her head resting against Mary’s shoulder.

The car fell quiet again, the road stretching out endlessly before them. Danny leaned his elbow against the door, his gaze drifting out the window.

“You’re a good dad,” Steve said suddenly, his voice low but certain.

Danny turned to him, startled. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say, the words hanging in the air between them. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Yeah, well… it’s a work in progress.”

Steve’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “That’s all any of us can do.”

Danny didn’t respond right away, but something in Steve’s tone settled into him, loosening the tension that had been building since the call with Charlie.

“Thanks,” Danny said quietly, his voice carrying more weight than the single word suggested.

Steve nodded, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, but the faintest hint of warmth lingered in his expression.

For the first time in days, the silence between them didn’t feel like a wall—it felt like a bridge.

The silence stretched on for a little while longer.

Steve’s grip on the wheel tightened slightly, his gaze flicking toward Danny out of the corner of his eye. He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, the words catching before they could leave.

Finally, he drew in a slow breath and asked, his voice quieter than usual, almost tentative, “How’s Charlie doing? And Gracie?”

Danny turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow at the question. Steve’s jaw tightened, his hands flexing on the steering wheel as he pushed forward, even though he looked like he half-expected Danny to snap at him. “I mean, I know you just talked to Charlie, but… you know. How are they?”

Danny leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable for a moment. He studied Steve, as though weighing how to respond, and for a split second, there was the faintest flicker of something resentful in his eyes.

“They’re good,” Danny said finally, his voice even. “Gracie’s... She’s 21 now. Can you believe that? Twenty-one.” His voice softened, tinged with a mix of pride and disbelief. “She’s in college, busy with school, working part-time… growing up too fast, like always. Too smart for her old man. And don’t even get me started on the boys who are suddenly calling her phone.” He shook his head, his tone light but protective. “She’s a good kid. Always has been. Hell, I guess she’s not even a kid anymore, is she?”

Steve nodded with a little smile, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “And Charlie?”

Danny’s smile softened, though his tone carried a hint of bitterness. “Charlie’s great. Like I said, he’s really into basketball. He’s got this competitive streak—reminds me of someone else I used to know.”

Steve glanced at him briefly, his lips quirking into a faint, tentative smile. “Sounds like he’s a lot like you.”

Danny shrugged, his gaze drifting out the window again. “Maybe. He’s got his own thing going, though. And he’s a good kid, too. They both are.”

Steve hesitated, then asked quietly, “Do they… talk about me?”

Danny stiffened slightly, his jaw tightening before he let out a long sigh. “Not really, not anymore,” he admitted, his voice measured. “They remember you. Charlie used to look at the picture album, talked about you all the time that first year. You were like a damn superhero to him.” His voice dropped, rough with the memory. “But that faded. He stopped asking after a while. He had to.”

Danny’s expression hardened slightly as he continued. “Gracie, though… She remembers. I mean, she had known you half of her life. She remembers the birdhouse you built together, the surfing lessons, the times you came to her school stuff. But she’s not talking. And you’d better hope not to meet her in the street because she will not hug you the way she did. Like I said, she’s not talking, but I can tell you this much—she holds a grudge against you.”

Steve swallowed hard, the weight of Danny’s words sinking into him. His hands tightened on the wheel as he tried to find a response, but none came.

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad, Steve,” Danny cut in, his tone soft but firm. “It’s just the way it is. You left, and you hurt them. A lot. They lost a… they lost a father figure that day. But we had to keep going. They had to keep going.”

Steve nodded, his throat tightening as he gripped the wheel harder. “Yeah. I get it,” he said, his voice low and rough.

Danny studied him for a moment, the resentment in his gaze softening just slightly. “For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “Charlie keep a picture of both of you on his desk.”

Steve’s chest tightened, the words hitting him harder than he expected. He didn’t respond, but the way his lips pressed together and his gaze fixed on the road ahead said enough.

For a moment, the air between them felt heavy again, but this time it wasn’t the tension of anger—it was the weight of what had been lost, and maybe, just maybe, what could still be found.

Steve swallowed hard, the weight of Danny’s words sinking into him. His hands tightened on the wheel as he tried to find a response, but none came.
“For what it’s worth,” Steve said after a long moment, his voice low and unsure, full of unspoken emotion. “I missed them every second, you know.”

Danny turned his head slightly, watching Steve’s profile as he gripped the wheel, his knuckles white. The rawness in Steve’s voice surprised him, but Danny didn’t let it show.
“You had a funny way of showing it,” Danny replied quietly, his tone not harsh, but edged with lingering hurt.

Steve nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “I know,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I know I screwed up, Danny. I’m not… I’m not trying to excuse it. I just…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he exhaled sharply through his nose. “I just wanted you to know. I never stopped thinking about them. Or you.”

Danny blinked, his gaze flicking away to the passing scenery outside. He let the words hang there, unsure what to do with the sudden rush of emotions they stirred.

“Missing them doesn’t change what they went through,” Danny said after a long silence, his voice low but steady. “Doesn’t change what I had to pick up when you were gone. They were hurt, Steve. They didn’t understand why you just disappeared. Hell, some days, I didn’t understand it.”

Steve flinched slightly at the words, but he didn’t interrupt. He kept his eyes on the road, letting Danny’s words wash over him.

“But yeah,” Danny continued, his voice growing quieter, as if speaking more to himself now. “You left a hole when you went. And we patched it up as best we could, but…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he looked away.

Steve’s grip on the wheel loosened slightly. “I didn’t mean to leave that kind of damage,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No one ever does,” Danny replied, his tone sharp but not unkind. “But it doesn’t stop it from happening.”

The silence stretched on, tense but somehow less suffocating than before.

In the backseat, Joanie stirred slightly, her bunny slipping from her arms as she shifted in her sleep. Mary caught it, tucking it back into her daughter’s grasp with a soft smile. She glanced at the two men in the front, sensing the tension but saying nothing.

Steve finally broke the quiet, his voice hesitant but honest. “Do you think they’d want to see me? Someday?”

Danny didn’t answer immediately, his jaw working as he considered the question. “That’s not for me to say,” he replied eventually. “You’d have to earn that, Steve. From both of them.”

Steve nodded, his throat tightening as he absorbed Danny’s words. The truth of it stung, but he knew it was fair. At least it was not a definitive no.

For a moment, he stared ahead, his mind racing. There were things he wanted to say, apologies that hovered on the tip of his tongue, but the weight of Danny’s honesty held him back. He didn’t deserve to make it about himself, not yet—not after everything.

Danny shifted slightly in his seat, his posture stiff but less closed off than before. “They’re good kids, Steve,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. “They’ve been through a lot, but they’ve come out stronger. Gracie especially… she’s tougher than I ever gave her credit for. And Charlie—he’s got this way of seeing the world that… I don’t know. It makes you want to be better, you know?”

Steve glanced at him briefly, his lips pressing into a faint line. “Sounds like they take after their dad.”

Danny let out a soft, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Nah. They’re better than me. Smarter, braver… hell, probably more patient too.”

Steve hesitated, then asked, his voice tentative, “And you? Are you okay?”

Danny turned to him, his expression a mix of surprise and guardedness. “What kind of question is that?”

“A real one,” Steve said simply, meeting Danny’s gaze for a fleeting moment before looking away. “I know I wasn’t there, Danny. I know I left you... And I can’t change that, but… I need to know. Are you okay?”

Danny stared at him, his jaw tightening as he weighed the question, unsure how much to reveal. The walls he’d built over the years felt steady, but Steve’s words chipped at them, exposing cracks.
Finally, he exhaled, leaning his head back slightly. “I’m... okay,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I’ve got my kids, my work—everything is good, well, was until…” He waved a hand vaguely toward Steve and the backseat, his expression somewhere between exasperation and a resigned kind of humor.

Steve’s lips twitched, a faint, almost uncertain smile appearing. “Until this circus rolled into your life again, huh?”

Danny huffed out a laugh, short and dry. “Yeah, something like that. You and your big, dramatic entrances.” He shook his head slightly, glancing toward the backseat where Joanie was still sound asleep, her bunny clutched tightly in her little hands. “But… she’s a good kid. Worth it.”

Steve nodded, his smile softening into something genuine. “Yeah, she is.”

Danny turned his gaze back to Steve, his expression more serious now. “Look, I manage, okay? I’ve got my routines. My kids keep me grounded. My work keeps me busy. I’m fine. But… if you’re asking if it’s easy?” He let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. “It’s not. Hasn’t been for a long time.”

Steve’s throat tightened, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to make it harder for you. Or for them.”

Danny studied him for a long moment, his expression softening slightly. “I know you didn’t, Steve,” he said, his tone quieter. “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard.”

Steve nodded, his grip on the wheel tightening briefly before he forced himself to relax. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t want to leave, Danny. I didn’t want to hurt you. Or them.”

Danny looked at him, his gaze unreadable. For a moment, he seemed like he might say something, but then he shook his head and turned back toward the window. “Well, you did. But we survived. That’s what we do.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy but not hostile, as Steve let Danny’s words settle.

After a while, Danny spoke again, his tone lighter but still thoughtful. “So, yeah. I’m okay. Or at least, I’m as okay as anyone can be.”

Steve glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “Okay.”

Danny snorted softly, the sound carrying a hint of disbelief as he shook his head. “Yeah, okay,” he repeated, his lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it was a step.

-

Chapter 10: 10

By the end of the afternoon, the mood in the car had shifted. What had started as a lighthearted, playful afternoon filled with chatter and laughter had deteriorated into something far more challenging.

Joanie was crying—loud, frustrated sobs that echoed through the car. The adventure, it seemed, had lost its magic.

She’d been awake for hours now, and the novelty of the trip had completely worn off. The promise of Chicago wasn’t enough anymore, and even the mention of ice cream—a surefire distraction earlier—did nothing to stem the tide of tears.

An hour ago, they’d stopped at a rest area. Joanie had calmed down a little, the fresh air and freedom to run around giving her a brief reprieve. But as soon as they’d tried to get her back into the car,
the tears had started again, more insistent than before.

“Three-year-olds,” Danny muttered under his breath as Joanie wailed from her car seat.

When they tried to get moving again, Danny had reached for the keys, but Steve had refused to hand them over.

“Just… let me drive, Danny,” Steve had said, his voice low with fraying patience.

Instead of arguing, Danny had sighed and stepped back, suggesting, “Fine. Mary, ride shotgun. I’ll take the back with the munchkin.”

It worked for a while. Uncle Danny, with his silly voices and exaggerated faces, managed to coax a few laughs out of Joanie, her cries tapering off into occasional sniffles. But as the miles dragged on, the distractions lost their charm, and her cries started up again, louder and more distressed than before.

“Stop. Stop the car,” Mary said finally, her voice strained. Steve didn’t hesitate, pulling off the road into another rest area.

Joanie’s cries quieted as soon as they unbuckled her from her car seat, but the damage was done. Mary looked exhausted, her shoulders slumping as she leaned against the truck. “I need a break,” she admitted softly, her voice tinged with defeat. “I just… I need to rest for a little while.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, his jaw tight as he paced near the hood of the truck. His usual calm was cracking, the hours of crying and tension wearing on him. “What do we do now?” he asked, his voice tight.

Danny was crouched down near Joanie, wiping her cheeks with a tissue as she hiccupped softly, clutching her bunny like a lifeline. “We can’t keep going like this,” he said, his tone firm. “She’s done, man. This isn’t just a meltdown—it’s too much for her.”

“So what? We stop for the night?” Steve asked, though the tension in his voice made it clear he was reluctant.

“Yes, Steve,” Danny said, standing and fixing him with a hard look. “We stop for the night. Find a motel, let her sleep somewhere that’s not a car seat, and let all of us get a little peace.”

Mary nodded, her voice quiet but resolute. “He’s right, Steve. I can’t do another hour of this, let alone a whole night.”

Steve exhaled heavily, looking between Danny, Joanie, and Mary before nodding reluctantly. “Alright. I’ll find us a place.”

Danny patted Joanie’s head softly, his voice soothing as he murmured, “Hear that, kiddo? A real bed tonight. No more car for now.”

Joanie sniffled, her little face still blotchy from crying, but she nodded slightly, her bunny clutched tightly to her chest.

As Steve got back in the truck to check for nearby motels on his phone, Danny leaned against the side, rubbing a hand over his face. “Remind me why we thought this was a good idea again?” he muttered, half to himself.

Mary gave him a tired smile, her voice light despite her exhaustion. “Because you’re Danny, and you’d never say no to helping a little girl.”

Danny snorted softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, remind me to rethink that next time.”

It didn’t take long for Steve to find a motel about fifteen minutes away. But before heading there, they all agreed on one thing—food.

“There’s a diner on the way,” Steve said, glancing at the map on his phone. “We can grab something quick and then head to the motel.”

“Food first, sleep second,” Danny muttered, adjusting Joanie’s bunny, which had fallen onto the seat beside her. “Sounds like a plan.”

The drive to the diner was quiet. Joanie, too exhausted to protest anymore, leaned against Mary with heavy eyes, her small hand clutching her bunny. Danny had moved back to the front passenger seat, rubbing a hand over his face as the weight of the day started to settle in.

When they arrived, Steve parked and glanced at Joanie, who seemed barely awake. “Think she’ll make it through dinner?” he asked.

“She’ll eat,” Danny said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Trust me, kids always find a second wind when food’s involved. Especially if it involves fries.”

The diner was small but cozy, the kind of place with checkered floors and laminated menus. They settled into a booth near the back, Joanie sitting between Mary and Steve while Danny took the opposite side.

A waitress came over, her smile warm but tired. “What can I get you folks tonight?”

“Coffee. Lots of it,” Danny said immediately, earning a chuckle from the waitress.

“Make that two,” Steve added.

Mary smiled as she glanced at the menu. “We’ll take a kid’s grilled cheese for her,” she said, nodding to Joanie, who was leaning against Mary but still alert enough to inspect the pictures on the menu.
“And fries,” Danny added. “You’ve gotta have fries with grilled cheese. It’s a rule.”

The waitress jotted down their orders and disappeared, leaving the table to settle into a tentative calm.

Joanie perked up slightly as Danny pulled out a pack of crayons the waitress had left behind. “Here,” he said, sliding them toward her along with a paper placemat. “Show me what Bunny looks like.”
Joanie giggled softly, grabbing a crayon and starting to scribble.

Steve leaned back in his seat, his gaze flicking between Joanie and Danny. “She’s pretty attached to you,” he said after a moment, his voice low but not unkind.

“Yeah, well, I’ve got a gift,” Danny replied dryly, though his smile betrayed a touch of pride. “Kids like me. Always have.”

Mary glanced at him with a knowing look. “It’s because you actually listen to them,” she said.

Danny shrugged, his attention focused on Joanie’s scribbles. “Not rocket science. They just want someone to pay attention. Right, munchkin?”

Joanie nodded without looking up, too busy adding purple streaks to her drawing of Bunny.

When the food arrived, Joanie’s mood lifted further. The sight of fries and a gooey grilled cheese brought a smile to her face, and she happily dug in.

“You were right,” Steve said as he watched her eat, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Fries fix everything.”

Danny smirked, dunking one of his own fries into ketchup. “Told you.”

They all ate quietly at first, the exhaustion of the day evident in the way they savored the food and the rare moment of calm. But gradually, the chatter picked up again.

Mary chuckled as Danny wiped a smudge of ketchup from Joanie’s cheek. “She’s going to associate fries and grilled cheese with Uncle Danny forever.”

“Well, there are worse legacies,” Danny quipped, glancing at Joanie with a grin. “Right, munchkin?”

Joanie giggled, nodding as she held up a fry like a trophy.

Steve leaned back in his seat, finishing the last bite of his sandwich as he watched the scene unfold. “You’re going to spoil her, you know,” he said lightly, though there was no real accusation in his tone.

“Isn’t that what uncles are for?” Danny shot back, smirking.

By the time they finished their meal, the warmth of the diner and the fullness of their stomachs had dulled the edges of their exhaustion. Joanie, now drowsy and content, leaned against Mary as they headed back to the truck.

“She’s out for the night,” Danny murmured as Mary carefully buckled Joanie into her seat.

“Let’s hope so,” Mary said with a tired smile, climbing in beside her.

Danny climbed into the passenger seat, glancing at Steve as he adjusted his seatbelt. “Alright, McGarrett. Let’s get to this motel before the munchkin wakes up and demands dessert.”

Steve chuckled softly, starting the engine. “On it.”

As they pulled away from the diner, the promise of rest felt closer than ever.

The drive to the motel was blissfully uneventful. Joanie stayed sound asleep, her little bunny tucked under her chin, while Mary rested her head back against the seat, her eyes closed. Danny, leaning against the door, glanced over at Steve every so often, but the silence between them felt less charged now—calmer, even.

When they finally pulled into the motel parking lot, Steve parked the truck and turned off the engine. The stillness that followed was almost surreal after the long day.

Danny unbuckled his seatbelt, glancing back at Joanie. “She’s really out this time,” he murmured.

Mary stretched, her voice soft but amused. “I think that grilled cheese was her undoing.”

Steve smiled faintly, climbing out of the truck and stretching his back. “Let’s get the bags and settle in before she wakes up.”

Danny nodded, opening the door quietly to avoid disturbing Joanie. Mary slid out after him, and together they unloaded what they needed for the night.

The room Steve had booked was simple but clean, with two double beds and a small pull-out couch. Joanie’s eyes fluttered open as Mary carried her inside, but instead of crying, she just looked around sleepily, clutching her bunny tighter.

“Almost bedtime, kiddo,” Danny said softly, brushing a hand over her hair as Mary set her down on the bed.

Joanie yawned, her little voice groggy. “Uncle Danny, bunny wants blanket.”

Danny chuckled, grabbing the spare blanket from the closet and wrapping it around her shoulders. “There. Bunny’s all set. You good too?”
Joanie nodded, resting her head against Mary’s arm as her eyelids drooped again.

Steve leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene with an unreadable expression. Danny glanced at him briefly before turning back to Joanie. “Alright, munchkin. Sleep tight. No bunny adventures till morning, okay?”

Joanie giggled softly, already half-asleep.

Mary sighed, her voice quiet but full of gratitude. “Thanks, Danny. For… everything today.”

Danny shrugged, his tone light. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good meltdown.”

Steve chuckled quietly, shaking his head as he pushed off the doorframe. “Let’s get the rest of the stuff in. You two can argue over who gets the couch.”

“Not happening,” Danny shot back immediately. “You’re taking the couch, McGarrett. End of story.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “We’ll see.”

The banter brought a sense of normalcy to the room as they settled in for the night. Mary tucked Joanie in, the little girl’s soft breaths soon filling the space. Danny stretched out on one of the beds, watching as Steve folded himself onto the pull-out couch without another word.

The tension from earlier still lingered, but it was quieter now—something that didn’t feel so impossible to face.

As the room fell into a peaceful silence, Danny’s gaze drifted to the ceiling. The day had been long, messy, and full of unexpected moments. But as Joanie’s quiet snores filled the room, he couldn’t help but feel like they’d taken a small step forward—together.

Tomorrow would come with its own challenges, but for now, the only thing that mattered was rest.

But in the middle of the night, Danny was woken up by the sound of Steve shifting and groaning on the too-small couch, the springs creaking as he turned over for what felt like the hundredth time.

Danny cracked an eye open, his voice a low, sleep-rough grumble. “Can’t you just stop moving? You’re gonna wake the baby.”

Steve froze mid-turn, caught like a kid in trouble. “Sorry,” he whispered, trying to stay still. But no more than ten seconds passed before he shifted again, trying to ease the stiffness in his neck and back.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Danny muttered, keeping his voice low as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just come already.”

“What?” Steve asked, confused, his voice equally hushed.

Danny huffed, shifting slightly in the bed to make room. “Big bed here, McGarrett. Come on. I need to sleep, and if you don’t sleep, you’ll be grumpy tomorrow.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Steve shot back, his voice indignant but still quiet.

“Well, if you keep talking and moving, I’ll be grumpy tomorrow,” Danny snapped back, the edge of irritation clear in his tone. “And you’re not gonna like it. Now, come on.” He tapped the empty space
beside him with a groggy hand. “Sleep.”

Steve hesitated, staring at him. “You sure?”

Danny’s only answer was a frustrated grunt and another tap on the bed.

Finally, Steve gave in, pushing himself up off the couch. He padded over quietly and climbed into the bed, settling near the edge as far from Danny as possible. As soon as he stretched out, he let out a soft, involuntary sigh of relief.

“Better?” Danny asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he turned onto his side, already drifting back toward sleep.

Before Steve could respond, Mary’s voice broke the quiet from the other bed, dry and laced with annoyance. “Are you done? Some of us are trying to sleep.”

Both men stiffened, their heads snapping toward her direction.

“Sorry, Mary,” they mumbled in unison, their voices sheepish and eerily childlike.

Mary huffed, turning over. “Good night.”

“Good night,” they muttered back at the same time.

For a while, the room fell into silence again, the tension easing as everyone settled. Steve lay stiffly at the far edge of the bed, but his body slowly relaxed as the comfort of the mattress worked its magic.

Danny, with his back turned to him, grumbled quietly, “Next time, just ask for the damn bed.”

Steve didn’t reply, but a faint smile tugged at his lips as he closed his eyes.

-

The morning light filtered through the thin motel curtains, pale and soft, casting a gentle glow over the room. Danny stirred first, his face pressed against the pillow. He blinked groggily, his mind catching up to the fact that someone was beside him.

Turning his head slightly, he saw Steve still asleep, his arm stretched out toward the edge of the bed. For a moment, Danny just lay there, the absurdity of the situation washing over him.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, sitting up slowly so as not to wake him.

Mary was already awake, sitting cross-legged on the other bed with Joanie curled up beside her. She gave Danny a knowing look, one eyebrow raised. “Good sleep?” she asked, her voice low to avoid waking the others.

Danny shot her a glare, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t start,” he said, grabbing his phone from the nightstand.

Mary smirked, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m just saying, it’s a good thing you’re such a heavy sleeper. Otherwise, his tossing and turning might’ve driven you crazy.”

“Ha ha,” Danny replied flatly, scrolling through his phone. “You’re hilarious, Mary. Truly.”

Joanie stirred at the sound of their voices, her little head popping up from the blanket. “Uncle Danny?” she murmured sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

“Morning, munchkin,” Danny said, his voice softening as he leaned over to brush a hand through her messy curls.

“Bunny’s hungry,” she said, holding up the stuffed rabbit.

“Bunny’s hungry, huh?” Danny chuckled. “Well, let’s get Bunny some breakfast, then. What do you say?”
Joanie nodded enthusiastically, fully awake now.

At the sound of her voice, Steve began to stir, his eyes blinking open slowly. He turned his head, meeting Danny’s gaze briefly before sitting up.
“Morning,” Steve said, his voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” Danny replied, his tone neutral as he stood and stretched. “Hope you’re well-rested, McGarrett.”

Steve smirked faintly, running a hand through his hair. “Better than the couch, that’s for sure.”

Before anyone could say more, Joanie hopped off the bed, clutching her bunny. “Pancapes!” she announced, her voice cheerful and insistent.

Danny groaned, rubbing his face. “Of course. Pancakes. Should’ve seen that coming.”

Mary laughed softly, nudging Joanie toward the bathroom. “First, we wash up. Then, we eat.”

The bathroom situation quickly turned into a battlefield.

“I’m showering first,” Danny declared, already heading for the door.

“Like hell you are,” Steve countered, moving to block his path. “I’m faster.”

“That’s because you shower like a Navy SEAL—two minutes and you’re out,” Danny shot back. “Some of us like to actually enjoy the hot water.”

“Yeah, and waste it all in the process,” Steve retorted, smirking.

Mary sighed dramatically from the bed. “You two do realize there’s a toddler here, right? Maybe let her go first?”

Danny and Steve both stopped, glancing at Joanie, who was looking up at them curiously.
“Fine,” Danny muttered, stepping aside. “Munchkin gets priority.”

“Obviously,” Steve said, rolling his eyes as Mary led Joanie into the bathroom.

Once Joanie was done and dressed, Danny managed to snag the bathroom before Steve, emerging twenty minutes later with a smug expression.

“Hot water’s still working,” he said as he passed Steve, towel slung over his shoulder.
Steve grumbled something under his breath as he disappeared into the bathroom, emerging ten minutes later, fresh but visibly annoyed.

-

Chapter 11: 11

-

By the time they were ready to leave, Joanie’s insistence on pancakes had become a rallying cry.

“We get it, munchkin,” Danny said as he buckled her into her car seat. “Pancakes. You’ve said it about fifty times now.”

“Fifty-one,” Steve quipped, earning a glare from Danny.

“You’re not helping,” Danny snapped, climbing into the passenger seat.

“Not trying to,” Steve replied, smirking as he started the truck.

Mary, seated beside Joanie in the back, gave both men a pointed look. “Let’s just get her pancakes before she stages a revolt, okay?”

Joanie clapped her hands, her bunny bouncing on her lap. “Pancapes!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny muttered, but his lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

As they drove off, the tension from the night before felt lighter, replaced by the chaotic but oddly comforting rhythm of their makeshift family.

The diner was small and cozy, the morning rush filling the space with the hum of conversation and the clatter of plates. They settled into a booth near the window, Joanie bouncing with excitement as
the waitress set a plate of pancakes in front of her.

“Pancapes!” Joanie exclaimed, her face lighting up as she eagerly grabbed her fork.

Danny smirked, leaning back in his seat. “You’re welcome, munchkin.”

“Don’t get too proud, Danny,” Steve quipped, sipping his coffee. “She was gonna get those pancakes no matter what.”

“Yeah, but I’m the one who made it happen,” Danny shot back, gesturing to himself. “So, forgive me if I take a little credit.”

Steve rolled his eyes, taking another sip. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am,” Danny replied smoothly, cutting into his omelet.

Mary chuckled from beside Joanie, shaking her head. “You two really don’t stop, do you?”

“It’s part of our charm,” Danny said, winking at her.

“Charm isn’t the word I’d use,” Steve muttered under his breath, earning a sharp look from Danny.

Joanie giggled, her cheeks puffed out as she stuffed another bite of pancake into her mouth. “Uncle Danny funny,” she said, pointing her fork at him.

“That’s right, munchkin,” Danny said, leaning closer. “Don’t you forget it.”

The light bickering continued through breakfast, a rhythm that felt strangely normal despite everything. Danny and Steve’s banter, Mary’s amused interjections, and Joanie’s cheerful commentary created a warm bubble of familiarity.

But as the waitress cleared their plates and refilled their coffee cups, Steve’s phone buzzed on the table. His expression immediately shifted as he glanced at the screen. Without a word, he stood and walked toward the door, the phone pressed to his ear.

Danny frowned, watching him go. Steve’s body language was stiff, his shoulders tense, and the way he ran a hand over his face mid-conversation made it clear the call wasn’t good.

“Uncle Danny?” Joanie’s voice broke through his thoughts, her little head tilting as she looked at him.

Danny forced a small smile. “Yeah, sweetie?”

“Bunny’s full,” she announced, holding up the stuffed rabbit.

“Well, good,” Danny said lightly, patting her head. “Now, how about you and your mom hit the bathroom before we head out?”

Mary caught the shift in his tone, her smile fading slightly as she studied his face. “Everything okay?”

Danny glanced toward the door where Steve was still pacing, his back to them. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted, his voice low. “But go on, take the munchkin. I’ll pay, and then we can go.”
Mary nodded, gently guiding Joanie out of the booth. “Come on, Jojo. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

As they walked toward the restroom, Danny got up and headed to the register. His gaze kept flicking toward the door, a knot tightening in his chest as he watched Steve’s tense movements.

He didn’t know what was coming, but the look on Steve’s face told him it wasn’t good.

Danny joins Steve outside, frowning as the cold morning air brushes against his face. Steve ends the call, slipping his phone into his pocket before turning toward Danny with a heavy sigh.
“Well, he’s here,” Steve said, his voice low and clipped. “Makani. My source confirmed his passport was checked at Newark.”

Danny pressed his lips into a thin line, nodding slowly. “Well, we knew it would happen sooner or later.” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing back at the diner. “Maybe we’ll be okay if we keep it low until Joe’s ranch. Just stay out of sight.”

Steve nodded, but his expression was distant, his gaze fixed somewhere over Danny’s shoulder. “Yeah. Maybe,” he murmured, though his tone lacked conviction.

Danny tilted his head, studying Steve closely. “Anything else?” he asked, his tone edged with doubt.

Steve hesitated, his jaw tightening briefly before he finally spoke. “No, it’s just…” He trailed off, looking away again, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

“Just what?” Danny pressed, his frown deepening.

Steve hesitated, the words catching in his throat as he glanced away. His jaw worked for a moment, the tension visible in the lines of his face.

“It’s just… I thought we’d have more time,” he said finally, his voice quiet but edged with frustration.

Danny’s frown deepened. “More time for what?”

Steve ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “To figure this out. To get them somewhere safe without looking over our shoulders every damn second.” He paused, his voice dropping. “I thought I
could keep them away from all of this. From him.”

Danny studied him, his arms crossing tightly over his chest. “Yeah, well, you don’t get to control the timing, McGarrett. None of us do. You just deal with it as it comes.”

Steve’s eyes flicked back to Danny, something raw in his gaze. “You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you forget sometimes,” Danny shot back, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’ve got this thing where you think you can handle everything on your own, like you’re the only one who knows what’s
best. But newsflash, Steve—you’re not. You’ve got people who can help. You’ve got me.”

Steve blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Danny’s voice. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

Danny sighed, the edge in his tone softening. “Look, I’m not saying it’s easy. But we’ve got this. You’ve got this. And right now, the best thing we can do is keep moving.”

Steve nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. “You’re right,” he said quietly, the words almost surprising himself as they came out.

“Of course I’m right,” Danny replied, his lips twitching into a faint smirk.

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation still hanging in the cool morning air. Both men turned their attention toward the diner, waiting for Mary and Joanie to come out.

Steve shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his gaze distant but focused, while Danny leaned against the truck, arms crossed, his eyes sharp and alert.

When the door finally swung open, Joanie came bounding out first, clutching her bunny tightly as she giggled and skipped toward them. “Uncle Danny, look! Bunny’s jumping!” she announced, bouncing the stuffed rabbit in time with her steps.

Danny straightened up, a grin tugging at his lips despite himself. “Bunny’s got some serious moves, munchkin,” he said, crouching slightly and holding out his hands. “But can Bunny outrun me? Let’s see!”

Joanie squealed in delight, spinning on her heel and running toward the car as Danny pretended to chase her, his footsteps heavy and exaggerated. “I’m coming for you, Bunny!” he called, his voice playful as Joanie erupted into giggles, weaving around the parking lot.

Mary followed more slowly, her brows knitted together as she glanced between Steve and Danny. Her gaze lingered on Steve, noting the tension still etched into his features.

“Everything okay?” she asked quietly as she approached him.

Steve hesitated, glancing toward Danny and Joanie before turning back to Mary. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice low but steady.

Mary’s frown deepened, her arms crossing protectively. “What is it?”

Steve stepped closer, lowering his voice further. “Makani’s here. My source confirmed he landed at Newark.”

Mary’s face paled, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch her collarbone. “He’s here? How close?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“We don’t know yet,” Steve admitted, his tone calming but firm. “But we’re sticking to the plan. Get to Joe’s ranch, stay off the radar. We’ll be safe there.”

Mary nodded slowly, her eyes flicking to Joanie, who was still running in circles around Danny, her laughter echoing in the parking lot. “And you’re sure it’s far enough? That he won’t find us?”
“It’s the best option we have,” Steve said firmly. “Joe’s place is remote, secure. And I’ll make sure we stay ahead of him.”

Mary sighed, her worry evident, but she nodded again. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Steve placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get through this.”

Mary glanced at him, her expression softening slightly. “Thanks, Steve.”

Joanie’s laughter rang out again, drawing their attention as Danny scooped her up, spinning her around. “Gotcha, Bunny!” he said triumphantly, making her giggle even harder.

“Come on, you two!” Steve called, his voice lighter now, though the tension lingered just beneath the surface. “We’ve got a long drive ahead.”

Danny carried Joanie to the truck, setting her down gently before helping her into her seat. “Alright, munchkin. Bunny’s had enough cardio for one morning. Time to hit the road.”

Joanie nodded, clutching her bunny close as she settled in. Mary climbed in beside her, glancing briefly at Steve, who gave her a small nod before heading to the driver’s seat.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, the weight of what lay ahead pressed down on all of them, but the sound of Joanie’s soft humming in the backseat offered a small, fragile reminder of what they were fighting for.

The road stretched out ahead of them, and with a solid day of driving still ahead, they knew they had to keep moving. If they didn’t make too many stops, they could reach Joe’s ranch late tonight. Of course, Steve insisted on taking the wheel first, brushing off any argument from Danny with a pointed look that dared him to fight about it.

Joanie, sitting snugly in her car seat with Bunny by her side, seemed to have found a new well of energy. She babbled nonstop about everything—Bunny’s adventures, the passing trees, and the clouds outside the window. Danny, though slightly exasperated, found himself grateful for the chatter. It was a far cry from the meltdown she’d had the day before, and he’d take this over tears any day.

“Better than yesterday,” Danny muttered, glancing back at Joanie, who was now pretending Bunny was flying out of the car window.

“Way better,” Mary agreed from beside her, giving Danny a small smile.

As the hours ticked by, the conversation inevitably turned to Mary’s past with Makani. They tread carefully, their voices low so as not to catch Joanie’s attention, but the weight of the topic was unavoidable. They tried to piece together details that might help—how Makani had found out about Joanie, how long he’d known, and what his endgame might be.

Danny leaned against the door, his phone in hand as he worked through his own set of questions. He’d already made a few calls to his collaborators, tapping into old contacts from his law enforcement days. His voice was calm but clipped as he explained the situation in vague terms, leaving out any mention of Steve.

At one point, Danny even looped in Junior and Tani, knowing their skills could be invaluable. “Yeah, it’s sensitive,” he said into the phone, glancing at Steve, who was focused on the road. “I just need you to see what you can dig up—travel records, financials, anything. But keep it tight, okay? No names, no extra chatter.”

Junior’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Got it. We’ll see what we can find and get back to you.”

“Appreciate it,” Danny replied before ending the call.

Steve glanced over at him briefly, his grip on the wheel firm. “Anything?”

“Nothing concrete yet,” Danny admitted, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “But they’re on it. If there’s something to find, they’ll find it.”

Steve nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. “Good.”

The truck rolled on, the hum of the engine steady as the miles passed. Despite the gravity of their situation, there was a quiet determination in the air—a shared sense of purpose that made the hours feel a little less daunting.

-

Chapter 12: 12

The closer they got to their destination, the colder it became. The crisp air seemed to seep into the truck, despite the heater working overtime. After a stop for lunch at a cozy diner—which thrilled Joanie to no end with its mini pancakes and warm cocoa—they decided it was time to gear up.

Spotting a shop stocked with mountain equipment and winter gear, they pulled in. The store was small but well-equipped, filled with racks of insulated jackets, thick snow boots, gloves, and hats.
Even Danny had to admit the bitter cold of New Jersey was nothing compared to the mountain winters. “If we’re going to survive this, we need to be prepared,” he grumbled, grabbing a heavy coat for himself.

Steve smirked faintly but said nothing, instead picking out the sturdiest boots he could find.

Joanie, meanwhile, discovered a plush stuffed bear tucked in a bin near the checkout counter. “Bunny’s friend!” she declared, clutching the bear tightly.

“Really?” Danny teased, crouching down to her level. “You sure Bunny’s okay sharing the spotlight?”

Joanie nodded eagerly, hugging both Bunny and the bear to her chest. “They’re beft friends,” she insisted.

Danny chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Alright, munchkin. Bunny’s got a new partner in crime.”

Back in the truck, Joanie couldn’t stop chattering about her new bear, whom she promptly named “Snowy.” She babbled happily until her energy finally gave out, her little head lolling to the side as she fell asleep clutching Bunny and Snowy tightly. Mary wasn’t far behind, her exhaustion catching up with her as she leaned against the window, her breathing evening out.

Danny, having successfully won his battle for the wheel after the shop break, was now in the driver’s seat. The road stretched ahead, the sky growing darker as the cold deepened.

Steve, sitting shotgun, was quiet but noticeably restless. His head leaned back against the seat, but his eyes refused to close. Instead, they kept drifting toward Danny, his gaze lingering longer each time.

It didn’t take long for Danny to notice. After catching Steve staring for the third—or maybe fourth—time, he finally spoke, his tone sharp but tinged with amusement.
“Okay,” Danny said, not taking his eyes off the road. “This is officially getting creepy. Either you stop staring at me, or you say whatever it is you want to say. But do something other than looking at me like a goddamn stalker.”

Steve blinked, caught off guard, but a faint smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Yeah, sure,” Danny shot back, glancing at him briefly. “That’s why I can practically feel your eyes burning a hole in the side of my face.”

Steve’s smirk grew, though he didn’t deny it this time. “Maybe I was just thinking.”

“Thinking? About what?” Danny asked, his tone skeptical.

Steve hesitated for a moment, his fingers drumming lightly on his knee. “About how you’re still… you. After everything.”

Danny raised an eyebrow, glancing at him again. “That’s the best you’ve got? You’re thinking about how I’m still me? Profound, McGarrett.”

Steve shrugged, the faintest hint of a laugh escaping him. “I mean it, though. You haven’t changed. Not really.”

Danny’s grip on the wheel tightened slightly, his gaze flicking back to the road. “Yeah, well, maybe some of us don’t run away every time things get tough.”

The air in the truck shifted, the weight of Danny’s words hanging between them. Steve exhaled slowly, his smirk fading.

“Fair,” Steve said quietly, his voice tinged with regret.

Danny didn’t respond immediately, his focus locked on the road ahead. When he finally spoke, his tone was softer but still edged with something raw. “You want to keep staring, fine. But don’t expect me to make it easy for you.”

Steve glanced at him, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “Wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said, leaning back in his seat.

For a while, the silence filled the space, but Steve finally broke it, his voice thoughtful. “Your hair’s shorter,” he said pensively.

Danny shot him a quick look, his brow furrowing. “Well, thanks, Sherlock.”

Steve smiled lightly, his tone softening. “It suits you,” he said finally, almost affectionately.

Danny’s head whipped toward him, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and disbelief. “Thanks, I guess,” he muttered, his voice unsure as he turned his attention back to the road.
He glanced at Steve again, this time more deliberately, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You, though… you’re thinner.”

Steve raised a brow at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Danny shrugged, one hand gripping the wheel as the other gestured vaguely toward Steve. “I don’t know. You look like you’ve stopped putting yourself through that insane army training.”

“Navy, Danny,” Steve corrected automatically, his tone dry but amused.

“Yeah, whatever,” Danny said dismissively, though a small smirk tugged at his lips. “You get the point. You don’t look like you’ve been living in a CrossFit commercial anymore.”

Steve chuckled softly, leaning back against the seat. “Guess I’ve been… taking it easier.”

Danny’s smirk faded slightly, his expression softening. “Easier, huh? That’s new for you.”

Steve hesitated, his voice quieter. “Yeah... Well, I didn’t see what was the point anymore.”

Danny hummed in acknowledgment, glancing at him briefly before turning his focus back to the road. “Well, for what it’s worth… you look less like a machine and more like a human these days. That’s
not a bad thing.”

Steve tilted his head, studying Danny’s profile. “Is that your way of saying I look better now?”

Danny snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t push your luck, McGarrett.”

A faint smile crossed Steve’s lips, his gaze lingering on Danny for a moment longer before he turned back to the road ahead. “Noted.”

Steve’s smile lingered for a moment as the silence settled again, but this time it wasn’t heavy or strained. It felt lighter, almost companionable, as if they’d finally found a rhythm that didn’t feel so fragile.

Danny broke the quiet first, glancing at Steve briefly. “You know, I’m still wrapping my head around you ‘taking it easier.’ I mean, you were the guy who’d wake up at 4 a.m. to run ten miles just to clear your head.”

Steve chuckled softly, the sound low and genuine. “Still get up early. Just… no ten-mile runs these days.”

“Well, there’s a miracle,” Danny quipped, shaking his head. “What’s next? You gonna tell me you’re drinking decaf now?”

Steve smirked. “Not that far gone, Danny. Don’t worry.”

“Good,” Danny muttered, his lips twitching into a small grin. “Because that would just be sad.”

They fell into an easy rhythm of light conversation, trading the occasional quip or observation about the landscape around them. But as the road stretched on and the air grew colder, the topic began to shift.

Danny glanced out at the snow-covered fields passing by, his breath fogging the window slightly. “So, Montana,” he said after a moment, his tone casual but probing. “I mean, I get why we’re heading there—it’s remote, safe—but are you sure about this? You know it’s not exactly a winter wonderland with a toddler.”

Steve exhaled slowly, his grip on his knee tightening for a brief second before he relaxed. “You’ve been there before, Danny. You know how quiet it is. It’s exactly what we need right now.”

Danny hummed thoughtfully, his fingers tapping lightly on the wheel. “Yeah, I’ve been there. When Joe died. That place was… well, let’s just say it wasn’t in great shape, McGarrett. You’re asking a lot from a ranch that was barely holding together the last time I saw it.”

Steve’s jaw tightened slightly, his gaze flicking to the side window. “It wasn’t that bad,” he said, though the defensiveness in his tone betrayed him.

Danny scoffed. “The barn roof was caving in, the house looked like it was one bad storm away from falling apart, and don’t even get me started on the plumbing. You spent half your time swearing at that old water pump.”

Steve chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. “Okay, maybe it needed work.”

“Maybe?” Danny shot him a pointed look. “That place was a death trap waiting to happen.”

Steve let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. “It’s not like that anymore,” he said, his voice softer now.

Danny glanced at him, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Steve hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the seam of his jacket. “I’ve been living there… After traveling, I had to put it to rest, so this last year, I’ve been there,” he admitted, his voice carrying a hint of shame.

Danny blinked, startled. “You’ve been living there? What, like a monk?”

Steve let out a faint laugh, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Something like that.”

Danny stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” The why didn’t you come home burned on his tongue, but he couldn’t let himself say it. It would cut too
deep—the answer he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear. Maybe he’d never been Steve’s home the way Steve had been his… after all.

Steve shrugged, his gaze fixed on the dashboard. “What difference would it have made? You had your life, your kids. I didn’t want to drag you into… whatever I was dealing with.”

Danny’s grip on the wheel tightened briefly, but he didn’t push. Instead, he let out a slow breath. “Alright. So, you’ve been living there. What’s it like now?”

Steve glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “Different. I’ve been working on it. A lot.”

Danny arched a brow, his tone skeptical. “How much is ‘a lot’?”

“The barn’s fixed,” Steve said, his voice steady but quiet. “The plumbing works, the roof’s solid, and the house is clean. Comfortable, even. It’s… it’s a home now. Not just some run-down place in the middle of nowhere.”

Danny studied him for a long moment, his expression softening despite himself. “You’re saying it’s safe. For her.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. It is. I wouldn’t take her there if it wasn’t.”

Danny let out a soft huff, his fingers tapping against the wheel. “Alright. I’ll give you that. But if we get there and it’s not up to scratch, I’m not letting you hear the end of it.”

Steve smirked faintly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Danny shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “A monk living on a ranch in Montana. You really have changed, haven’t you?”

Steve didn’t answer right away, his gaze thoughtful. “Maybe a little,” he admitted finally. Then, with a shy smile, he added, “But some things don’t change.”

Danny’s eyes snapped to him. “Yeah, like what?” he asked.

Steve looked at him, then turned his head toward the window. “I still…” He stopped, as if thinking better of it. Finally, with a light smirk, he said, “I still put butter in my coffee.”

Danny played along, but he’d seen the shift in Steve—the wheels turning as he’d clearly changed what he was about to say.
“Argh… you never had good taste, and it’s not changing now,” Danny muttered, hiding the fact he’d noticed.

Steve shot back, almost without thinking, “I have good taste. I chose you, didn’t I?”

The air in the truck shifted instantly, the weight of those words landing hard between them.

Danny’s posture stiffened, his grip on the wheel tightening as though bracing for impact. “Well, you left me too, so it doesn’t count,” he said, his voice quiet but raw. There was no sharpness in it, just the exhaustion of someone too tired to fight anymore.

Steve’s breath hitched, his chest tightening. “I know,” he said softly, his voice cracking with the weight of his own regret. “Believe me, Danny, I know.”

Danny glanced at him for just a fraction of a second. Steve wasn’t looking at him—his eyes were fixed on the window, his hand clenched so tightly on his knee that his knuckles were white. The sight made something twist in Danny’s chest, but he bit his lip, refusing to let the words bubbling up escape.

He turned his focus back to the road, his jaw tight, letting the silence stretch between them. It wasn’t comfortable, but neither of them seemed ready to break it.

It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t the kind of uncomfortable it had been in the first days of this journey, either. It was full. Full of emotions, full of feelings and questions they didn’t know how to address, how to take care of, or how to handle.

Suffering in silence had always been their way of holding things together—carrying the weight on their own shoulders, never daring to share the load. And if where their relationship stood now was any indication, that approach had never been the right one.

Danny’s knuckles tightened briefly on the wheel before he relaxed them again, forcing himself to breathe deeply. He didn’t know what to say, and every potential word felt too heavy, too dangerous.

Steve wasn’t looking at him, his profile turned toward the window, but there was no mistaking the tension in his frame, the way his jaw clenched as though bracing for something.

Danny’s voice broke through the thick silence, quieter than usual but steady. “You know, McGarrett, for someone who’s always got a plan, you’re pretty bad at handling your own messes.”

Steve blinked, startled out of his thoughts. He turned to Danny, his brow furrowing slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Danny shrugged, his tone light but edged with something softer. “I mean, you’ve got this whole save-the-day thing down, right? You’re always the one with the backup plan, the contingency, the big, heroic solution. But when it comes to your own stuff? You just… shut down.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue but stopped, his shoulders slumping slightly. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted after a beat, his voice quiet.

Danny glanced at him briefly, surprised by the admission. “Well, that’s a first,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You admitting I’m right. Mark the date.”

Steve chuckled softly, the sound low and self-deprecating. “Don’t get used to it.”

The light banter eased some of the tension, though the weight of everything unsaid still lingered in the air between them.

Steve hesitated, then turned his gaze back to Danny, his expression more serious. “What about you?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

Steve gestured vaguely. “You’re not exactly the poster child for emotional communication either, you know. You bottle everything up until it explodes.”

Danny huffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, maybe I wouldn’t have to if someone didn’t leave me holding the bag all the time.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, sharper than he intended. But instead of snapping back, Steve simply nodded, his gaze steady. “You’re right,” he said quietly.

Danny blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

Steve’s lips twitched into a faint, sad smile. “You’re right. I left. I didn’t handle it the way I should’ve. I thought I was doing the right thing, but…” He trailed off, his voice dipping. “I just made it worse.”

Danny stared at him for a moment, his throat tightening. He wanted to argue. He wanted to stop the car just so he could yell properly or look Steve in the eye to tell him all his truths. To throw another jab, to unleash the storm of resentment he’d been carrying for years. But he couldn’t do it—not now. And the rawness in Steve’s voice stopped him from being rude.

Instead, he let out a slow breath. “Yeah. You did.”

Steve nodded again, the weight of Danny’s words settling over him. But he didn’t look away this time, meeting Danny’s eyes with something almost like resolve. “I want to fix it,” he said simply.

Danny held his gaze for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the road. “Who said there’s still something to fix?” he said dryly, but the sadness in his voice was unmistakable.

Steve swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the finality in Danny’s tone. “I… just… hope,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed was heavy, and this time, it wasn’t the kind of silence that could be filled with easy banter or light-hearted jabs. It was loaded with everything they hadn’t said—everything they’d left behind.

Danny didn’t answer for a long time, his hands gripping the wheel tighter as he debated internally what to say. The bitter cocktail of hurt and hope churned in his stomach, leaving him feeling sick. He hated how much Steve’s words—his vulnerability—got under his skin. Hated how it reopened wounds he thought he’d buried deep enough to ignore.

Finally, Danny exhaled slowly, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. “Hope’s a dangerous thing, McGarrett,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Steve didn’t respond right away, his hands tightening briefly on his knees. “I know,” he said quietly. “But it’s all I’ve got.”

Danny’s jaw clenched, his eyes fixed firmly on the road. He wanted to argue again, to tell Steve he didn’t get to hope—not after everything. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it. The truth was, as much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t want to extinguish that hope entirely.

“Just… don’t screw this up,” Danny said finally, his voice tight and rough. “If you’re gonna try to fix things, then don’t half-ass it, Steve. You either do it right, or you walk away for good.”

Steve nodded, his gaze fixed on Danny, the weight of his words settling deep. “I’m not walking away again,” he said firmly, though his voice was still quiet.

Danny didn’t respond, but his grip on the wheel loosened slightly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. The silence that followed wasn’t any lighter, but it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been before.

The silence stretched on, heavy but not unbearable, the kind that allowed both men to process what had been said. Steve leaned back in his seat, his gaze fixed out the window, the snow-covered landscape blurring past. His mind was racing, but he tried to focus on the road ahead, not the knot of emotions tightening in his chest.

Danny’s grip on the wheel had eased, but his jaw remained tight. He wasn’t sure how to feel about Steve’s words—or the raw sincerity behind them. Part of him wanted to believe it, wanted to let that spark of hope take root. But the other part—the part that still carried the weight of Steve’s absence, the pain of being left behind—wasn’t ready to let go of his guard.

After what felt like an eternity, Steve broke the silence. “I know you don’t believe me,” he said quietly, his voice steady but subdued. “And I don’t blame you. But I’m going to prove it, Danny. Whatever it takes.”

Danny glanced at him briefly, his expression unreadable. “We’ll see,” he said simply, his tone neither dismissive nor encouraging.

Steve nodded, accepting the response for what it was. It wasn’t an open door, but it wasn’t slammed shut, either. It was… something.

From the backseat, Joanie stirred, her soft voice breaking through the tension. “Uncle Steve…” she mumbled sleepily, clutching Bunny and Snowy tightly to her chest.

Danny glanced at her in the rearview mirror as Steve turned toward her, his expression softening. “What’s up, Jojo?”

Joanie rubbed her eyes, her small voice thick with sleep.

“You doing okay back there?” Steve asked, his tone gentle.

Joanie nodded, snuggling deeper into her seat. “Snowy wants to play bird’s catch,” she mumbled, holding her stuffed bear up slightly.

Danny chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Well, maybe we can make a little stop, then. Stretch our legs, let Snowy catch some birds.”

Joanie smiled faintly, her sleepy eyes lighting up as she turned to wake her mom. “Mummy! Mummy!”

The enthusiastic call made both Steve and Danny laugh, their tension easing for a moment.

“Well, it’s mid-afternoon, and the kiddo’s been asleep for more than two hours,” Danny said, rolling his shoulders as he slowed the car. “And I’ve been driving for more than four. Think it’s time for a
break.”

He glanced at Steve, who murmured a soft “Not too long,” in agreement, his eyes scanning the roadside. Danny nodded.

Less than fifteen minutes later, they pulled over at a rest stop. As Joanie gleefully bounded out of the car with Bunny and Snowy in hand, Danny stretched his legs, the crisp air biting against his skin. “Damn, it’s cold,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together.

“Here,” Steve said, holding out his gloves.

Danny blinked, momentarily surprised. “Euh… thanks,” he muttered, taking the gloves shyly and slipping them on. Touched by the gesture, he flexed his fingers in the warm fabric, avoiding Steve’s gaze for a second longer than necessary.

Steve shrugged casually, his gaze fixed on Joanie as she toddled around with Mary, her giggles breaking through the cold air. “Don’t take too long—fifteen minutes max. Then I’ll take over driving.”

Danny handed him the keys without hesitation, something Steve clearly hadn’t expected. His eyebrows rose slightly, but Danny’s tone was dismissive. “Fine by me. I need a coffee anyway. Maybe two.”
Steve nodded, visibly surprised not to have to fight for the keys. “Come on, then. Let’s get your caffeine fix,” he said with a half-smile. “I could use one too.”

The two of them walked toward the rest stop as Mary and Joanie ran ahead, Joanie’s boots crunching in the snow as she shrieked with laughter. Danny glanced over at Steve, his steps slowing for just a moment.

“You’re good with her,” Danny remarked casually.

Steve gave him a sidelong look, his expression softening. “She makes it easy. Kids… they don’t hide what they’re feeling.”

Danny hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, well, maybe we could take some notes, huh?” His words were light, but there was a flicker of something unspoken in his tone that Steve didn’t miss.

Steve didn’t respond, letting the silence settle between them as they pushed open the door to the rest stop.

With steaming cups of coffee in their hands, they returned to the truck. Steve leaned against the hood, blowing on his cup as he calculated the remaining drive. “If we push through without any more stops, we could make it to the ranch by ten.”

Danny snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, except for those pesky human needs like food, McGarrett. Unless you’re planning to survive on air and snow, we’re stopping to eat at least once.”

Steve sighed, reluctantly nodding. “Fine. Midnight, then.”

“Wow, glad you’re seeing reason—for once,” Danny said with a smirk, climbing into the passenger seat.

-

Chapter 13: 13

Back on the road, Danny put on a kids’ playlist from his phone to keep Joanie entertained. For a while, it worked wonders. Joanie clapped her hands and sang along with delight, her joy infectious. But after the third round of “Old McDonald Had a Farm,” five renditions of “Mary Had a Little Lamb” (her favorite, naturally), and three energetic performances of “The Wheels on the Bus,” Steve’s patience began to fray.

He shot Danny a desperate look, his eyes practically begging for help.

Danny glanced at him, his expression unbothered. “Better this than a tantrum, McGarrett. Trust me.”

Joanie, oblivious to Steve’s growing distress, clapped her hands and hummed happily. Mary smiled tensely, clearly caught between amusement and sympathy for her brother.

Then came the third loop of “Baby Shark,” and Steve let out a groan, gripping the wheel tighter.

Danny finally took pity on him. “Alright, munchkin,” he called back to Joanie. “Let’s give the music a break, huh? Uncle Steve’s gonna lose it if he hears Baby Shark one more time,” he said, then added
with a smirk, “We wouldn’t want him jumping out of the car through the window, right?”

Joanie giggled but didn’t protest, cuddling her stuffed animals instead. Steve sent Danny a look of gratitude, though the faint twitch in his jaw remained. “You know I wouldn’t do that, right?”

“With you? Never sure,” Danny retorted, smirking.

As the afternoon faded into evening, the snow outside grew heavier, the landscape transforming into a winter wonderland. The closer they got to Montana, the colder it became, the chill seeping into the truck despite the heater working overtime.

When the lights of a small town appeared on the horizon, Danny let out a soft sigh of relief. “Looks like we’re stopping for dinner.”

Steve nodded, glancing at him. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll find us a place.”

“Please, something other than a diner,” Danny said almost plaintively.

“Okay,” Steve replied, considering their options. “Maybe pizza or some pasta would be great. What do you think?”

Danny turned to him, incredulous. “What do I think of pizza or pasta? Is that really what you’re asking me? Come on, McGarrett, you know me better than to ask that question.”

Steve smirked slightly. “Yeah, you’re right. Only your grandma’s pasta counts. So pizza it is.”

Danny blinked at him, bewildered, then chuckled lightly.

They found a cozy local pizzeria and settled into a booth that curled around the table. First Mary, then Joanie, sat, with Steve and Danny taking the ends. Once everyone was settled, Steve leaned back against the booth, casually draping his arms across the top of the seat.

Joanie was bouncing in her seat with excitement.

When the waiter came to take their orders, Joanie proudly declared, “Pizza! Bunny and Snowy are hungry!”

Danny grinned at her.

Mary chuckled, tucking Joanie’s hair behind her ear. “Bunny and Snowy can share with you, sweetheart.”

Steve leaned closer to Danny, glancing at him with a faint smile. “See? Even the stuffed animals are easy to please.”

“I am too…” Danny said, leaning back against the booth with a teasing smirk. “Unlike someone I know.”
Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t move his arm, the warmth of Danny’s presence grounding him.Their shoulders were close, nearly brushing. Steve could feel Danny’s warmth radiating, and it sent a strange comfort through him. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but the familiarity of it felt… right.

For the first time in days, the tension between them seemed to dissipate, leaving something softer in its place. Neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt it.

Maybe they weren’t as far apart as they thought.

Danny had to stay concentrated not to lean in. The warmth from Steve, his presence so near, the good ambiance, hell, the ache he had felt for the last three years… It was almost like finding a piece of himself that had been missing, but no matter how close it seemed, it remained out of reach. And he didn’t know how much longer he could trust himself not to do something impulsive, something he might regret.

Luckily, the pizzas arrived, cutting through the charged moment. The steaming plates were a welcome distraction as everyone dove in with the kind of enthusiasm only road-weary travelers could muster.

“We eat, we go, no dawdling,” Danny declared around a bite of pizza, his voice firm but light. “The sooner we’re back on the road, the better. Less chance for any surprises.”

Mary nodded, Joanie giggled as she tried to balance a piece of pepperoni on Bunny’s head, and even Steve managed a faint smile.

Once everyone was full and their spirits momentarily lifted, they headed back to the truck. The exhaustion was evident now, their movements slower, their conversation more subdued. Joanie, initially grumpy about getting back into the car, eventually succumbed to sleep, her small head lolling against Bunny and Snowy.

Steve kept the driver’s seat, his jaw tight as he focused on the road. He drove just over the speed limit, his determination to reach the ranch as quickly as possible evident in the way his hands gripped the wheel.

The final stretch of the drive was quieter, the tension creeping back in with each passing mile. Danny couldn’t shake the feeling that they were racing against something unseen, the weight of the past and the present pressing down on all of them.

Finally, just past midnight, Steve reached over and touched Danny’s arm lightly, his voice low. “Hey.”

Danny blinked awake, his senses coming alive as he rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah?”

“We’re here,” Steve said softly, jerking his head toward the end of the long dirt driveway. The ranch stood ahead of them, silhouetted against the moonlit Montana sky.

Danny squinted through the windshield, his expression unreadable. “Great,” he muttered, straightening in his seat.

Steve hesitated, his voice apologetic. “It’s going to be freezing inside. There hasn’t been heat for about a month and a half.”

Danny nodded pensively. “Figures.”

Steve parked the truck in front of the house, the headlights casting long shadows across the porch. Without another word, he got out and walked toward the front door. Danny watched as Steve unlocked it, stepping inside to flick on the lights. The warm glow spilling out onto the porch was dim but welcoming.

When Steve returned to the truck, his expression was shy, almost hesitant, like he was bracing himself. “I’ll grab some wood for the fireplace,” he said, glancing at Danny. “You go on in with Mary and Jo. Make yourself… at home.” He added the last part with a small, almost sheepish smile, as though he wasn’t sure he had the right to offer it.

Danny looked at him for a long moment, then turned toward Mary and Joanie as they stirred in the back seat. By the time he helped them out of the car and turned back, Steve was gone, already heading toward the woodshed.

The air was freezing outside, and as Mary glanced at the house, her arms tightening around a still-sleepy Joanie. “It’s… nice,” she said, trying to take in the ranch through the dim light of the moon.

Danny hurried them inside, his voice low but brisk. “Yeah,” he answered her, his gaze flickering between the house and the direction Steve had disappeared to. “Looks different from my memories.”
He ushered Mary and Joanie toward the porch, his steps slowing slightly as his eyes lingered on the surrounding darkness. Something about the ranch felt different. Steve had told him he’d worked on it, but now, standing here, Danny could see it. The place looked less stuck in the past—less like it was weighed down by ghosts—and more like a home. Comfortable. Lived in. Not haunted.

Once inside, though, the chill didn’t dissipate. The cold seemed to seep through the walls, wrapping itself around them. Danny rubbed his hands together, blowing on them as his breath fogged in the air.

Mary settled Joanie onto a nearby couch, wrapping her tightly in a blanket. Joanie mumbled something incoherent, clutching Bunny and Snowy close, her little face buried against the plush animals.
“This is gonna be a long night,” Danny muttered, glancing toward the door, his ears straining for the sound of Steve returning from the woodshed.

The quiet of the ranch pressed in around them, broken only by the faint creak of the wind against the house and the occasional sound of Joanie shifting on the couch. Danny paced slightly, his eyes darting toward the door every few seconds.

Mary looked up at him, her voice soft. “You’ve been here before, right?”

Danny nodded, stopping for a moment to glance at her. “Yeah. A couple of years ago… after Joe.” His tone carried a weight to it, and Mary didn’t press further, sensing the heaviness of the memory.

She glanced around the room, taking in the faint warmth of the lightbulbs that buzzed faintly overhead. “It’s… better than I imagined.”

Danny huffed softly, his hands on his hips. “Yeah, well, Steve said he’s been working on it. Doesn’t feel like it used to. That’s a good thing.”

Before Mary could respond, the door creaked open, and the icy air rushed in as Steve stepped inside, his arms full of firewood. His cheeks were red from the cold, and his breath came out in visible puffs as he carried the logs toward the fireplace.

“Give me a minute,” Steve said, his voice steady but slightly breathless. “I’ll get this place warmed up.”

Danny watched him silently for a moment before stepping forward. “You need help?”

Steve glanced up, his eyes meeting Danny’s briefly before he shook his head. “I’ve got it.”

Danny hesitated but eventually nodded, stepping back to give him space. As Steve knelt by the fireplace, arranging the logs with precision, Danny couldn’t help but notice the quiet confidence in his movements—the familiarity, like this had become second nature to him.

Mary glanced around the room once more, taking in the cozy but rough-hewn space. Despite the chill, the flicker of the firelight softened the edges of the room, casting a homier feel than she’d expected. She turned to Steve with a small smile. “It’s really nice. Feels… lived in. Homie.”

Steve looked startled for a second, as if unsure how to take the compliment. “Uh, thanks,” he murmured, his gaze darting away from her. He barely glanced at Danny, his shoulders tense like the words had embarrassed him.

Danny noticed but said nothing. Instead, he rubbed his hands together for warmth, glancing at the fireplace. “Well, the fire’s nice and all, but it’s gonna take a while before it heats the whole house.”
Steve nodded, his practical side kicking in. “Yeah. We should stay here tonight, in the living room near the fire. Tomorrow, we’ll figure out how to spread out.”

Mary, still trembling slightly from the cold, looked at the couch and the limited space around the room. Her gaze landed on the floor near the fire, and she said thoughtfully, “We should put some mattresses down and just sleep here. All together. It’ll be warmer.”

Both Steve and Danny stared at her, stunned by the suggestion. Steve was the first to recover, nodding slowly. “Not a bad idea, actually,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, almost as an afterthought, he turned to Danny, who was still processing. “We’ll keep each other warm, especially Jo.”

Danny shook his head, clearly reluctant at first. “Seriously? What is this, some kind of camping trip?”

Steve smirked faintly but didn’t respond, letting Danny work through the idea himself. Eventually, with a deep sigh, Danny conceded. “Fine. Whatever keeps the kid from turning into a popsicle.”

With a plan in place, Steve and Danny headed upstairs to grab a mattress from one of the bedrooms. The weight of it made them stumble slightly as they maneuvered it down the narrow staircase, grumbling under their breath the entire way.

“This thing weighs a ton,” Danny muttered as they reached the bottom.

“Stop complaining,” Steve shot back. “It’s not like I’m enjoying this either.”

Once the mattress was in place, they went on a scavenger hunt for every blanket and cushion they could find, bringing armfuls down and piling them onto their makeshift sleeping area.

By the time they were done, the exhaustion of the day was catching up with all of them. They arranged the blankets and pillows into a cocoon of warmth and comfort, Mary settling on one side of the
mattress with Joanie snuggled up next to her. But as the little girl began to stir, she blinked sleepily and mumbled, “I want Uncle Steve and Uncle Danny.”

Mary smiled softly, stepping aside to make space as Joanie clutched Bunny and shuffled between Steve and Danny.

“Guess we don’t get a choice,” Danny muttered, his tone fond as he adjusted the blankets around her.

The four of them pressed close on the mattress to fit, the combined weight of the blankets providing a comforting warmth against the freezing room.

Joanie quickly fell back asleep, her breathing soft and even. Danny instinctively rested his hand on her belly, feeling the gentle rise and fall. But as his gaze drifted to the other side of Joanie, his eyes caught on Steve’s face, illuminated by the flickering light of the fireplace.

Steve had his eyes closed, one arm tucked behind his head. He looked so peaceful, his features softened in a way that made Danny’s chest tighten unexpectedly. For a moment, Danny let himself look,
really look, at the man he hadn’t been able to stop missing for the past three years.

Then, Steve shifted slightly, his hand reaching out to rest protectively over Joanie. Except it wasn’t Joanie his hand landed on—it was Danny’s.

Both men froze, their eyes snapping open and locking on each other. Even with Joanie between them, the moment felt impossibly intimate. Neither moved, neither breathed, the air between them
charged and electric.

Steve’s thumb moved first, the faintest, hesitant caress against the back of Danny’s hand. The gesture was so light it was almost imperceptible, but Danny felt it as if it were a spark igniting something deep within him.

He didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. His hand remained under Steve’s, steady yet trembling on the inside. Their eyes stayed locked, the unspoken words between them louder than anything they could have said.

In that moment, the weight of the past, the years of distance, and the pain of everything left unsaid seemed to dissolve into the warmth of that single, tentative touch.

The room was silent except for the soft crackle of the fire and Joanie's quiet breaths. Danny’s heart hammered against his ribs, his body locked in place, unsure if he should speak, move, or even breathe. Steve’s thumb brushed over his hand again, this time more deliberate. It wasn’t a mistake. It was intentional. And it sent a shiver down Danny’s spine.

Steve’s gaze didn’t waver, though there was a vulnerability in his eyes that Danny hadn’t seen in years. A question, unspoken but clear. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding, just… waiting.

Danny swallowed, his throat dry. He glanced down at their hands, still pressed together over Joanie, then back up to Steve. The weight of the moment threatened to crush him, and yet it was so fragile, like the wrong move would shatter it entirely.

Steve’s thumb moved again, this time in a deliberate, soothing rhythm, brushing softly against the back of Danny’s hand. It was gentle, tentative—like Steve was testing the waters, waiting for Danny to pull away. But Danny didn’t. He couldn’t.

The motion was hypnotic, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. Each soft stroke of Steve’s thumb against his skin seemed to unravel a thread of the tension wound tight in Danny’s chest. It wasn’t just a touch; it was a reassurance, a silent apology, a quiet plea to stay in this fragile peace for just a little longer.

Danny exhaled lightly, his breath shaky but steadying. He glanced at Steve’s face, illuminated by the soft, flickering glow of the firelight. Steve’s eyes were still on him, steady but vulnerable, his expression soft and open in a way Danny hadn’t seen in years. It sent a pang through Danny’s chest—an ache he didn’t know how to name.

Little by little, Danny felt himself loosening, the tension in his body melting under the soothing rhythm of Steve’s thumb. The warmth of the fire, the steady weight of Joanie sleeping between them, and the quiet intimacy of the moment created a cocoon of safety he hadn’t realized he craved. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel like he had to fight, defend, or resist.

He let out another soft breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. The world outside—their past, their pain, their unspoken words—faded into the background. All that mattered was here, now. The warmth of Steve’s hand, the quiet crackle of the fire, and the faint sound of Joanie’s soft breathing.

Danny’s fingers, almost on their own accord, relaxed under Steve’s touch, no longer stiff or tense. His hand didn’t move away; instead, he let himself lean into the contact, allowing the soothing motion to lull him, moment by moment, into a rare and fragile sense of peace.

Tomorrow would come. Its too-bright light would demand answers, decisions, and more than either of them was ready to give. But for tonight—for this one stolen moment in the flickering light of the fire—Danny decided to let it go. To let himself have this small, soft reprieve.

His breathing slowed, his body sinking further into the makeshift bed. He didn’t open his eyes again, didn’t pull his hand away. And as the rhythmic motion of Steve’s thumb continued, Danny felt himself drifting, his thoughts quieting as he slipped into the first truly restful sleep he’d had in years.

The room settled into a deep quiet, the fire casting soft, flickering light across the walls. Steve stayed awake a little longer, his thumb still brushing lightly over Danny’s hand, even though he wasn’t sure if Danny was asleep yet. It felt like a lifeline, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. The contact was simple, but it carried a weight he couldn’t name, a connection he didn’t want to lose, not
yet.

His gaze shifted to Joanie, her small frame nestled between them, her face peaceful in the firelight. She was clutching her bunny and Snowy tightly, the picture of innocence. Steve’s chest tightened, a protective instinct flaring up inside him. This little girl, so full of light and joy, deserved every bit of the safety and peace they were working so hard to give her. And Danny…

Steve’s eyes drifted back to Danny. Even in sleep, Danny’s face held a softness that had been absent for years. The lines of tension, anger, and grief had smoothed out, leaving behind the man Steve had always known—always cared for. His hand stayed there, their fingers lightly intertwined over Joanie, and for a fleeting moment, he let himself believe they could stay like this.

The fire crackled softly, breaking the silence. Steve sighed quietly, leaning back against the makeshift pillows they’d arranged. His mind raced despite the calm around him. He thought about the ranch, about the safety they’d worked toward on this long, tense road trip. He thought about Danny, about all the words left unsaid, the wounds left unhealed.

But the thought that lingered most was how fragile this moment was—how fleeting. He didn’t want to break it, didn’t want to wake Danny or disturb Joanie. So he stayed still, his hand resting on Danny’s, his body warm from the fire and their shared heat.

Time slipped by unnoticed. Steve’s eyes grew heavier, but he didn’t move. Eventually, sleep claimed him, his hand still lightly brushing against Danny’s. The fire burned low, its glow casting soft shadows on the walls, cradling them all in a rare, fragile peace.

-

Chapter 14: 14

Notes:

Hey guys! Sorry for the erratic updates and for not responding to your lovely comments—I’ve been completely taken down by the flu, and I’m still not feeling much better!

I promise I’ll get around to answering all your messages soon. :)

Thank you so much for reading and enjoying this story—it’s what keeps me motivated to finish it (which I promise I’m working on!).
I’m doing my best for you all! ;)

Again, thank you! 💙

The morning found them bathed in the soft, golden light of the rising sun filtering through the windows. The fire had long since died down, leaving the room cooler but still wrapped in the warmth of their shared space. Joanie’s giggles broke the quiet, her laughter soft but insistent as her little body wriggled between her two uncles.

Danny stirred first, his eyes cracking open to find Joanie’s bright gaze staring up at him, her little hand resting on top of his and Steve’s, which hadn’t moved all night. Her bunny and Snowy were nestled against her chest, their tiny faces smushed between the blankets.

“Good morning, munchkin,” Danny mumbled, his voice still heavy with sleep. His eyes flicked to where her hand rested over his and Steve’s, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe. The quiet intimacy of the gesture struck something deep within him, but Joanie’s innocent laughter quickly pulled him out of his thoughts.

“You squished me!” Joanie announced with a light giggle, her face scrunching up in mock indignation.

Danny chuckled softly, his free hand ruffling her hair. “Oh, yeah? Well, you’re pretty good at squishing back, kiddo. You had us pinned all night.”

Steve stirred next, his movements slow as he blinked himself awake. His gaze landed on Joanie, then Danny, and finally their intertwined hands. A faint flush crept up his neck, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he smiled faintly, his voice still rough with sleep. “Morning, Jojo. Did you sleep okay?”

Joanie nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing as she laughed. “But you and Uncle Danny hugged me too much!”

“Hugged you too much?” Danny repeated, feigning offense. “Hey, those hugs kept you warm, kid. You should be thanking us.”

Joanie giggled again, wiggling free from the blankets. Her small hand patted both their hands like she was giving them permission to let go. “Okay, okay. Bunny and Snowy say thank you.”

Steve grinned, watching her crawl toward Mary, who was still half-asleep at the edge of the makeshift bed. “Well, as long as Bunny and Snowy approve,” he said lightly.

Danny stretched, his muscles protesting after a night on the floor. “Next time, McGarrett, remind me to bring an air mattress.”

Steve smirked, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck. “Next time, Williams, maybe don’t hog the blankets.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” Danny shot back, his tone playful but groggy. “You’re the one who wrapped up like a damn burrito.”

Joanie, now climbing onto Mary’s lap, turned back to them with a grin. “You’re funny.”

Steve and Danny exchanged a glance, their earlier tension softened by Joanie’s innocent joy. For the first time in a while, the weight they’d been carrying felt just a little bit lighter.

Mary finally stirred fully, wrapping an arm around Joanie and looking between the two men with a knowing smile. “You two survived the night without killing each other. I’m impressed.”

“Barely,” Danny muttered, shooting Steve a mock glare. But his lips twitched, betraying the humor underneath.

Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, instead focusing on Joanie, who was now tugging at her bunny’s ears. “Alright, kiddo. What’s for breakfast? Bunny and Snowy get a vote too.”

Joanie’s face lit up. “Pancapes!” she declared, her enthusiasm contagious.

Danny groaned, his head falling back against the makeshift pillow. “Of course. Pancapes.”

Steve’s chuckle was low and warm as he stood, offering a hand to Danny. “Come on, Williams. You heard the boss. Pancapes it is.”

Danny took the hand without hesitation, allowing Steve to pull him up. For a moment, their eyes met, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the playful bickering that felt so natural, so them.

The morning began with laughter, warmth, and the promise of pancapes—a moment of lightness they all desperately needed before the weight of the day ahead could settle in.

-

They passed the next hours lighting the fireplace, preparing and eating breakfast, taking turns in the bathroom, and trying to settle into the space. The chill of the house seemed to seep into everything, making every movement slower, deliberate. Their breath fogged in the cold air as they moved about, but slowly, as the fire spread its warmth, it began to chase away the worst of the chill.

The room softened with the glow of the flames, shadows dancing on the wooden walls. Joanie’s giggles filled the space as she sat cross-legged with Mary, piecing together puzzles. Her laughter was light and unburdened, a stark contrast to the frigid air outside. It gave the space a coziness that seemed to fight against the cold gripping the world outside.

The need for groceries soon became apparent. The pantry was bare, save for a few items that wouldn’t stretch far. Steve offered to go alone, his tone nonchalant but carrying an undertone of seriousness. “No need to spread the word that I’m not alone this time,” he said lightly, but the weight in his words lingered in the room.

Danny noted it but didn’t comment. Instead, he waved Steve off. “Fine. Go do your thing. Don’t forget coffee. And milk for the kiddo.”

Steve smirked faintly, grabbing his keys. “I got it.”

As the sound of Steve’s truck faded into the distance, Danny found himself restless. Two days confined in a car had left him feeling stiff and pent-up. Sitting idle didn’t help the simmering mix of
thoughts swirling in his head. “I’m going to take a walk,” he announced, pulling on his coat and wrapping himself in layers.

Mary looked up briefly from the puzzle she was helping Joanie with. “Don’t go too far. You’ll freeze out there.”

Danny nodded, tugging his beanie into place and slipping Steve’s gloves onto his hands—the ones he’d kept in his pocket since the night before. He flexed his fingers in the warm fabric, the leather worn but still sturdy. There was something about them, about wearing them, that felt grounding. A connection he wasn’t ready to fully acknowledge.

The air outside bit sharply at his cheeks, the kind of cold that stung even through layers. He pulled his scarf higher as he stepped off the porch, his boots crunching in the snow. The ranch stretched before him, its quiet vastness both peaceful and humbling. He remembered the last time he’d been here, years ago, when the house felt more like a ghost of Steve’s past than a home. Back then, it had
been a place Steve had retreated to, raw with grief after Joe’s death. It had been broken, run-down, and isolated—a reflection of the man who owned it.

But now… now it felt different. Danny could see the care that had gone into every detail. The fences were repaired, standing straight and solid. The barn, which had once looked like it might collapse, now stood sturdy and weathered but strong. The land itself looked tended, as if someone had poured themselves into bringing it back to life. Steve’s hard work was evident everywhere, and Danny had to admit—grudgingly, of course—that Steve had done a damn good job.

He wandered the property for the better part of an hour, reacquainting himself with the land. The cold seeped into him, despite the layers he wore, but he found a strange comfort in the quiet. The vast openness, the mountains in the distance—it felt like a different world.

As he turned back toward the house, he noticed Steve’s truck parked out front. The rhythmic sound of wood splitting caught his attention, and he veered toward the side of the house. There, Steve stood with an axe, his movements precise and controlled as he split logs for the fire. His breath puffed out in small clouds, and despite the cold, he’d rolled up his sleeves, his arms taut with the effort of each swing.

Danny stopped, watching him for a moment longer than he should have. There was something captivating about the scene. The rawness of the wild landscape, the simple physicality of what Steve was doing, the quiet focus on his face—it all hit Danny somewhere deep, somewhere he wasn’t ready to explore. His chest tightened, and he looked away, muttering under his breath to snap himself out of
it.

“Need a hand?” Danny called out, stepping closer.

Steve turned, startled, his grip tightening on the axe. “Didn’t hear you coming,” he said, his breath hitching slightly as his eyes met Danny’s.

“No kidding,” Danny replied, smirking faintly. He shoved his gloved hands into his pockets, watching as Steve adjusted his stance. “You good out here, or what?”

Steve nodded, brushing snow off his sleeve. “I’m good. Thanks.”

Danny tilted his head slightly, studying him. “Alright,” he said casually, but instead of walking away, he moved to the porch steps and sat down. His eyes wandered over the property, taking in the way the late morning light softened the edges of the snow-covered landscape.

Steve hesitated, glancing at him before setting the axe down. “You’re just gonna sit there?”

“Yup,” Danny replied, leaning back slightly, his gloved hands resting on his knees. “Nice view.”

Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, stepping closer to the porch. He leaned against the railing, his arms crossed as he followed Danny’s gaze.

“You’ve really done something here,” Danny said after a moment, his tone quieter than usual. “Hard work and all.”

Steve looked at him, his expression unreadable. “Yeah… thanks,” he said, the words hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure if Danny meant them.

Danny’s gaze lingered on the barn, then the house, before flicking back to Steve. “The place feels… different. Less haunted. More… you, I guess.”

Steve tilted his head slightly, a faint crease forming between his brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Danny shrugged, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know. It’s calm, quiet. Solid. But it’s not cold anymore. Feels like someone actually gives a damn about it.”

Steve’s lips twitched faintly, his gaze dropping to the snow at his feet. “Took a lot of work.”

Danny glanced at him, his expression softer now. “Yeah. I can tell.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the only sound being the steady rhythm of Steve splitting wood. Finally, Danny broke the silence. “You’ve really done something nice here. Hard work and all.”
Steve paused, resting the axe against the ground, and turned toward him. “Yeah… Thanks, Danny,” he said, his voice hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if the compliment was genuine or not.

Danny’s gaze swept over the house, the barn, the landscape, before settling back on Steve. “The place is really you, you know? Calm, alone, basic but not too much.”

Steve blinked at him, startled by the observation. He opened his mouth, then closed it, glancing away as though searching for the right words. After a moment, he stepped closer, leaning the axe against the porch railing. His voice was quieter when he finally spoke. “I… I tried to make it you too.”

Danny frowned, confused. “What?”

Steve hesitated, the weight of his admission hanging between them. “Warm. Comfortable. That place that's... it's helped me stay sane all this time.”

Danny’s breath hitched, his hands clenching slightly in his pockets. “Steve…”

“I know,” Steve cut him off, his voice raw. “I know you don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to hear my apologies or why I didn’t come back. I get it. I do. But I need you to know… I tried, Danny. I
tried but I didn't know how... how to come back, how to fix what I had broken... how to…” His voice faltered, cracking under the weight of everything he’d kept inside.

Danny stared at him, his throat tight, the raw honesty in Steve’s tone cutting through the layers of anger and pain he’d carried for so long. He wanted to respond, to say something sharp, but he couldn’t. Not when Steve looked like that—vulnerable in a way he rarely ever let himself be.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Danny asked finally, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. He didn’t even realize how tightly his hands were clasped in his pockets until his fingers started to ache.

Steve exhaled shakily, glancing at the snow-covered ground before meeting Danny’s gaze again. “Because I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t matter,” he said simply. “Because I’m tired of running from it.”

The weight of Steve’s words hit Danny like a tidal wave, leaving him momentarily speechless. His jaw tightened, and he looked away, staring at the horizon as though it might offer some clarity. But none came.

“You destroyed everything, Steve,” Danny finally said, his voice strained. “Our life. Our family.”

Steve nodded, his shoulders slumping further. “I know.”

“And for what it’s worth,” Steve continued, his voice quiet but unwavering, “I’m sorry, Danny.”

Danny didn’t respond right away, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The cold air stung his face, but it couldn’t numb the emotions swirling inside him. Finally, he asked, “Why?”

Turning toward Steve, his eyes shone with hurt and pain, his raw vulnerability laid bare. “Why, Steve? Why didn’t you come home? Why did you shut me out like that? Why?”

Steve’s breath caught, his chest rising and falling unevenly. After a moment, he set the axe down fully and walked over to sit beside Danny on the porch, leaving enough space not to crowd him. He took a deep breath, his voice low but steady as he began. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Danny frowned, confused, but Steve pressed on, staring out at the land before them. “Like you know, the first year I traveled a lot. We… we called regularly, and every time we talked, all I wanted was to come back. But it was a fight to keep going, Danny. There was this one time I even bought a plane ticket. I stood there at the gate, ready to get on, but I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t better. And if I’d come back like that… I would’ve just made things worse.”

Danny’s hands tightened into fists, but he didn’t interrupt, his jaw clenched as he listened.

“So, I didn’t take the plane,” Steve continued, his voice growing quieter. “I watched it take off without me. And I told myself I was doing the right thing. That you and the kids were better off without me and my baggage. The danger that comes with being around me… all of it. So I convinced myself to stop calling. And when you stopped asking… I told myself that meant I was right. That you were better off.”

Danny’s breath hitched, and a tear slid down his cheek, but he didn’t wipe it away. He couldn’t. He was too focused on the words pouring out of Steve’s mouth.

Steve hesitated before continuing, his voice faltering. “But I missed you. I missed you and the kids so much it hurt. Every place I went, I’d see something that made me think of you. Something you’d say, something I wanted to share with you. So I started writing postcards.”

Danny’s head snapped toward him, his eyes narrowing. “I never got—”

“I know,” Steve cut him off, shaking his head. “I didn’t send them. I couldn’t. I thought… I thought if I reached out, I’d just be dragging you back into my mess. So I kept them. Every single one.”

Danny stared at him, his mind reeling. His throat tightened as he tried to process the flood of emotions—anger, sadness, longing, everything all at once.

Steve exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly. “And then… Joanie and Mary. They needed me. Joe made sure of that before he died. She didn’t have anyone else, Danny. I had to be there for her, I had to protect them. And I—I didn’t want to put that on you. Not after everything. Not after I had already walked away. Dragging you back into my problems, into my life after I made the choice to leave? It didn’t feel fair.” His voice dropped, raw and quiet. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Danny opened his mouth, but no words came out. His chest ached, and his fingers curled unconsciously at his sides. He wanted to be angry. He was angry. But beneath that, there was something else—something heavier, something impossible to name.

Steve’s voice softened even further. “I came here because I needed to… to let go of everything. Joe. You. The life I thought I’d have. I started going to therapy, working on the ranch, trying to build something—anything—to hold on to. And little by little, I started feeling better. But then… I couldn’t stop imagining you here. The kids. You on the porch, reading. Me and Charlie playing football out back. Family dinners in the kitchen. Imagining us going for a walk or a ride with our horses on the mountains…” Steve’s voice faltered, cracking slightly as he spoke. His gaze dropped to the snowy ground between them, the weight of his words seeming to hang in the icy air. “I… I made the house warm and comfortable, just like you’d want it. I even…” He hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I made three rooms upstairs. One for each of the kids, so they’d have their own space. I thought about where Charlie would put all his trophies, where Gracie might hang her posters…”

Steve swallowed hard, his throat tightening as the flood of his own emotions threatened to overtake him. His voice grew even softer. “I guess I was trying to make room for a life that doesn’t even exist anymore. For people I don’t even know if I’ll ever see again.” He stopped abruptly, his hand tightening around the axe handle still leaning against the porch railing. “I…”

Danny’s eyes bore into him, unreadable but intense. Steve’s breath hitched as he realized how much he’d just let out. “I know it was utopia,” he continued quickly, as though to defend himself. “Just a dream. But it’s what kept me sane this past year… without you.”

Steve turned his head slightly, glancing at Danny with an expression so vulnerable it made Danny’s chest ache. “And now, having you here… really here, in flesh and blood…” He trailed off, shaking his head as though the words wouldn’t come. “It’s just so…” His voice broke, and he gave up, letting the silence speak instead.

Danny blinked at him, completely caught off guard. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. The weight of Steve’s words—and the rawness behind them—was almost too much to process. He wasn’t sure how to respond to all of it.

“Does…” Danny’s voice came out hoarse, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “Does that mean you still have the postcards?” The question surprised even him, tumbling out of his mouth before he’d had a chance to think about it.

Steve’s head jerked up, his blue eyes wide with something that looked like shock—and maybe a little hope. “Yeah,” he answered after a moment, his voice quiet but steady. “I still have them.”

Danny nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the snowy ground for a second before lifting back to Steve’s. “Ok… can I… can I see them?” His voice was hesitant, almost shy, as though he wasn’t sure if he had the right to ask.

Steve exhaled, the breath visible in the cold air. “Yeah,” he said again, his tone soft but resolute. “You can.”

Danny nodded once more, this time more firmly. “Okay,” he said simply, though his voice carried an edge of something deeper.

He didn’t say anything else—he couldn’t. His thoughts were a tangled mess, his chest tight with emotions he didn’t know how to name. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, every beat like a question he didn’t know how to answer. Everything about this moment felt too big, too raw, and yet somehow… It felt like something he needed to face.

Danny pushed himself to his feet, brushing the snow off his jeans in an almost distracted motion. “Come on,” he said gruffly, his voice rough with barely restrained emotion. “Let’s get those logs inside before Mary starts yelling about the cold.”

Steve watched him for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. Good idea.”

They moved toward the stack of wood together, neither of them speaking as they worked to carry the logs inside. The tension between them didn’t dissipate entirely, but there was something else now—a quiet understanding, tentative and fragile but real.

As Danny hauled a load of wood into the house, he couldn’t help glancing back over his shoulder at Steve. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, he let the silence settle around them, knowing that for now, it was enough.

Chapter 15: 15

Mary glanced at them, her eyes narrowing slightly as though sensing the unspoken tension hanging thick in the air. “Everything okay?” she asked, her voice cautious but firm, her gaze flicking between Danny and Steve.

Danny was the first to respond, his voice clipped but steady. “Yeah,” he said, the single word heavy with restrained emotion. He avoided her gaze, busying himself with stacking the logs near the fireplace.

Steve hesitated longer, his shoulders slumping slightly under the weight of her question. His gaze lingered on Danny for a moment before he turned to Mary. “Yes,” he said softly, his tone carrying a weariness that seemed to seep into the room. He looked drawn, like the effort of the conversation outside had drained him completely.

Mary frowned, her eyes darting between them again, clearly not convinced. “You sure? You both look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Danny huffed out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head as he crouched to rearrange the logs. “Just tired, Mare. It’s been a long few days.”

Steve nodded in agreement, though he didn’t add anything. He moved toward the window, staring out at the snow-covered landscape as if searching for some semblance of calm.

Mary studied them both for a moment longer before sighing. “Alright,” she said, her tone laced with doubt. “But if either of you wants to talk, you know where I am.”

Danny glanced at her briefly, offering a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks, Mare. But we’re good.”

Mary didn’t look convinced, but she let it go for now, turning her attention to Joanie, who was happily building a tower of wooden blocks on the floor. “Come on, Jojo,” she said brightly. “Let’s see how tall we can make this before bedtime.”

As Mary and Joanie focused on their game, Danny straightened up, brushing his hands off on his jeans. His eyes flicked toward Steve, who was still staring out the window, his expression distant. For a moment, Danny considered saying something, but the weight of everything that had already been said held him back.

Instead, he moved to the fireplace, adding another log to the flames. The warmth spread through the room, chasing away the cold that clung to their skin. But the unspoken words between him and Steve lingered, a quiet undercurrent that neither of them seemed ready to confront just yet.

"Ok, so how do we do for the rooms?" Danny asked hesitantly, his voice carrying a touch of awkwardness as he glanced toward Mary.

“Well, Jo and I have already taken the green one,” Mary replied with a small smile, then added toward Steve, “Really sweet, by the way.”

Steve turned to her, a pleased smile softening his features. “Thanks. Glad you like it.”

"Come on, Danny," Steve said, nodding toward the staircase. “I’ll show you the others.”

Danny followed him upstairs, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he trailed behind Steve. The air felt heavier somehow, thick with something unspoken. At the top of the stairs, Steve stopped outside a room with a slightly ajar door, pushing it open gently. "Here," he said, gesturing inside. “This one’s the blue room.”

Danny stepped in, taking a long look around the space. The walls were a blend of warm navy blue and lighter shades that gave the room an open, calming feel. It was simple but thoughtfully put together, with shelves neatly arranged and personal touches that hinted at Steve’s intent. There was a desk near the window, a small bookshelf, and a bed that seemed perfectly sized for a growing boy.

Steve hesitated before speaking, his voice softer now. “I made this one for Charlie.”

Danny froze, his eyes slowly scanning the room as the weight of Steve’s words settled over him. His gaze moved from the shelves to the bed, the care that had gone into every detail unmistakable. Finally, his eyes landed back on Steve. “It’s nice,” he said softly, his tone betraying a mix of emotion he couldn’t quite hide.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, his voice quiet, his gaze lingering on Danny’s reaction like he was trying to gauge what he was thinking. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “You want to see the green one?”

Danny hesitated, feeling something heavy pressing against his chest, but eventually nodded. Steve led him further down the hallway to the far end, where he opened the door to a larger room.

The far wall was painted a lush jungle green, vibrant and full of life, while the remaining walls were a tender, light green that gave the space an inviting warmth. The furniture—an elegant bed, a small vanity, and a bookshelf—was chosen with care, and the room radiated a sense of comfort and love. It felt lived-in, even though it wasn’t.

“It’s beautiful,” Danny murmured, his hand brushing the doorframe as he took in the space. “So it’s…”

“Grace’s room,” Steve finished for him, his voice low but steady. “In my mind, anyway.”

Danny turned his head sharply, his eyes locking onto Steve with a burning intensity. His mouth opened slightly as though he wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, he swallowed hard and looked away, nodding mutely as he took another glance around the room.

They walked back toward the blue room in silence, the atmosphere thick with everything unsaid. But as they reached the doorway, Danny suddenly stopped, his brows furrowing slightly as he turned toward Steve. “And… in this mind of yours… where… Where do I stand?” he asked, his voice low and cautious, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer.

Steve’s breath hitched audibly. His cheeks flushed as he opened his mouth to respond, only to close it again. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. Finally, after a moment’s hesitation, he gestured toward the door just next to the blue room. Slowly, he pushed it open.

The room was painted in warm, earthy tones—light brown and sable, cozy and understated. A king-sized bed sat against the far wall, its dark wooden frame blending seamlessly with the rich tones of the space. There was a nightstand with a simple frame on it, the photo turned toward the bed, and a chair in the corner where a few of Steve’s clothes were draped. The space was undeniably personal, undeniably Steve.

Danny stepped inside, his expression unreadable as his eyes roamed over the carefully chosen details. His gaze lingered on the bed, the frame, the clothes, before finally landing back on Steve. “It’s…” he began, his voice trailing off.

Steve’s voice was almost a whisper as he finished the sentence for him. “Mine.”

Danny stared at him, the weight of Steve’s words hanging between them like a tether stretched too tight. His jaw tightened slightly, his throat working as though he was trying to swallow down the emotions threatening to spill over. He glanced back at the room, his hand brushing over the edge of the doorframe like he needed something solid to hold on to.

“It’s nice,” Danny said finally, his voice thick with the strain of holding himself together. But the words felt hollow, a placeholder for the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

Steve hesitated, his hand still resting on the doorknob as he watched Danny. His voice was quieter, almost tentative. “I thought about you every time I worked on it,” he admitted. “This room, the house… I wanted it to feel like you’d want to be here.”

Danny’s head jerked slightly at the admission, his eyes narrowing as he tried to process what Steve was saying. “Steve…” he started, but his voice faltered. He didn’t know how to respond to the weight of those words, didn’t know how to confront the flood of emotions Steve’s admission had unleashed.

Steve stepped back, giving Danny space. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said quickly, his voice raw. “I just… I needed you to know.”

Danny turned his head, his eyes burning as he looked at Steve, but he couldn’t find the words. Instead, he nodded, his throat tight as he forced himself to breathe.

Danny closed the door thoughtfully, his hand resting on the doorknob a second longer than necessary, his mind swirling with everything he’d just heard and seen. It was too much—too much to process, too much to feel, too much to unpack in the space of a single moment. He didn’t even know where to begin or how to untangle it all.

“I’ll… I’ll rest a moment,” Danny said hesitantly, his voice quiet and almost shy. He glanced at Steve briefly, avoiding the intensity of his gaze, and stepped past him.

“Yeah,” Steve replied simply, his tone soft and unreadable as he stepped aside to let Danny pass.

Danny walked back into the blue room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He leaned against it for a moment, exhaling shakily as his head fell back against the wood. His hand lingered on the doorknob, his fingers clenching and unclenching like he was trying to hold onto something solid.

The room felt suddenly both comforting and suffocating, filled with the echoes of Steve’s words and the weight of what they meant. Danny’s eyes swept over the space, landing on the carefully chosen details Steve had mentioned. The walls, the bed, the small shelves—it all told a story of someone who had thought deeply, cared deeply.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. The emotions hit him in waves—anger, hurt, confusion, but also something softer. Something that scared him just as much as the rest of it.

His mind replayed Steve’s hesitant confession, the way he’d looked—vulnerable, almost unsure for the first time in all the years Danny had known him. And then there was the room next door. That room.

Danny rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a slow, unsteady breath. He didn’t know what to do with any of it. But he knew one thing—he couldn’t keep running from it forever. He just needed a moment to breathe, to think, to figure out where the hell he stood in all of this.

For now, though, he sat quietly, letting the weight of it all settle over him like a heavy blanket. Somewhere in the house, he could hear faint sounds of Joanie’s laughter, Mary’s soft voice, and the occasional creak of the floorboards as Steve moved about. It was grounding, in a way.

“I’ll deal with it,” Danny murmured to himself, his voice barely audible.

Danny exhaled slowly, the weight of his own words pressing down on him like a heavy blanket. He sat on the edge of the bed in the blue room, his hands gripping his knees as he stared at the floor. His mind churned, replaying every word, every expression on Steve’s face, every unspoken emotion that hung between them.

The room felt stifling despite the chill that still lingered in the house. Danny rubbed his hands together, Steve's gloves still in his pocket. He pulled them out without thinking, turning them over in his hands, his thumb brushing the worn leather. Something about them grounded him, even as everything else felt like it was spiraling.

He ran a hand down his face, trying to shake off the storm of emotions threatening to overtake him. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” he muttered under his breath.

A soft knock at the door pulled him out of his thoughts. He glanced up, his shoulders tensing slightly. “Yeah?”

The door creaked open, and Mary’s head peeked through the gap. “Hey,” she said gently, her eyes scanning his face. “You okay?”

Danny forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Just… needed a moment.”

Mary stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. “Steve told me about the rooms,” she said, her voice soft. “He’s put a lot into this place, hasn’t he?”

Danny nodded, looking back down at the gloves in his hands. “Yeah. A lot.”

Mary studied him for a moment, her brow furrowing. “And you? How are you handling all this?”

Danny let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “How do you think, Mary? He’s been gone for years. Just… gone. And now he’s standing here, saying all these things—doing all these things. Like it’s just… normal.”

“It’s not normal,” Mary said softly. “But it’s Steve. And he’s trying.”

Danny looked up at her, his jaw tightening. “You think I don’t see that? I do. I see it. But that doesn’t erase what happened. It doesn’t make it easier to just… forget.”

Mary walked over, sitting beside him on the bed. She placed a hand on his arm, her touch grounding. “No one’s asking you to forget, Danny. Not even him. But maybe… maybe this is his way of showing you he hasn’t forgotten either. That he hasn’t stopped… caring.”

Danny swallowed hard, his throat tightening again. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Mary squeezed his arm gently before standing. “Take your time, Danny. I like to think it’s never too late to do right…”

Danny managed a small, tentative smile at that, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. “Yeah… Thanks, Mary.”

Mary nodded, giving his arm one last reassuring squeeze before turning and heading for the door. The quiet click of the door closing behind her left Danny alone once more.

He looked down at the gloves in his hands, the worn leather soft against his fingers. His thoughts swirled like a storm, chaotic and unrelenting. The weight of everything—Steve’s words, his actions, the memories they stirred—settled heavily on his chest.

Danny exhaled slowly, the sound shaky in the stillness of the room. He rubbed his thumb over a crease in the gloves, as though the motion might help him piece together the scattered fragments of his emotions. How the hell was he supposed to process all of this? The man who had disappeared, who had shattered everything they’d built together, was standing just downstairs, waiting. Trying.

“It’s never too late to do right,” Mary’s words echoed in his mind, their weight sinking deeper with each

Finally, Danny let out a shaky breath and lay down on the bed—Charlie’s bed, as Steve had called it. The weight of that alone, of Steve creating a space for his son in this house—this life he had built in Montana—pressed heavier on Danny’s chest than he wanted to admit. The mattress was softer than he expected, a small comfort against the storm raging in his mind, but it wasn’t enough to quiet everything inside him.

He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching as he tried to push it all down. He needed to stop overthinking, to stop running through every word, every look, every feeling that had clawed its way to the surface since they arrived. No, hell—since they met in that New Jersey park three days ago. Since the moment his eyes had landed on Steve for the first time in three years.

Three years.

He couldn’t deny it anymore. All the feelings he had fought so hard to bury—the ones he told himself he’d smothered with anger, pain, and sadness—were still there. Hell, they were as strong as ever, just buried under layers of grief and resentment. Layers that were now being stripped away, one by one, leaving everything raw and exposed.

He thought he’d made his peace with it all. Told himself over and over again that he had moved on, that he didn’t need closure, that he didn’t need answers. But it was all smoke. Lies he’d told himself to survive. Because here he was, lying on this bed, and it was all coming back to him with an intensity that made his chest ache and his breath hitch.

But what if… What if those layers of dust and debris could be swept away? What if the pain wasn’t permanent? What if there was something left—something worth salvaging—beneath all of it?

Fuck. Danny ran a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes as though that might somehow clear his mind. He needed to rest. He needed to stop. To pause everything—the thoughts, the emotions, the memories threatening to consume him. He needed to let the quiet of the room, the distant warmth of the fire, and the stillness of the house carry him, even if just for a little while.

With a heavy sigh, he rolled onto his side, curling slightly as if that might shield him from everything swirling inside him. His hands clutched the edge of the blanket, his knuckles white as he tried to hold it all together. But the pressure—the weight of it all—was too much. The thoughts, the emotions, the memories that had been clawing at him for days, for years, came rushing to the surface.

At first, it was just a tightness in his chest, a burn behind his eyes. But then, little by little, he let the flow of everything he had been holding in break free. The sadness that had settled deep in his
bones, the shock of hearing things he hadn’t expected, the anger and pain that had kept him moving when everything else fell apart—it all surged forward, unstoppable.

And then there was the love. The love he thought he had buried, the love he had convinced himself was long gone. It wasn’t. It was still there, tangled up with everything else, hitting him with a force he wasn’t prepared for. It gutted him, left him gasping as he tried and failed to hold back the sobs that tore through him.

His body shook as the first wave of tears broke free, then another, and another, each more powerful than the last. He buried his face in the pillow, trying to muffle the sound, but it didn’t stop the sobs from escaping in jagged, broken gasps. It all poured out of him in relentless waves—everything he had bottled up for so long, everything he had refused to feel, refused to acknowledge.

He didn’t know how long it lasted. Time blurred as the pain and exhaustion pulled him under, dragging him through every raw, unfiltered emotion he had tried to outrun. His breaths came in shuddering gasps between sobs, his hands clutching the blanket like a lifeline, his face pressed into the cushion as though it could absorb the noise, the pain, the weight of it all.

And then, slowly, the waves began to subside. The sobs became quieter, the jagged breaths less harsh. His body, spent from the outpouring of emotion, began to relax against the mattress. He felt drained, hollow, but there was a strange lightness in the emptiness, like he had let go of something he had been carrying for far too long.

As the exhaustion overtook him, his tears finally dried. His breathing evened out, and his grip on the blanket loosened. With one last shuddering breath, Danny let himself fall into the quiet pull of sleep, his body sinking into the mattress, his mind finally, blessedly, still.

-

Chapter 16: 16

He didn’t know how long he had slept, but when he woke up, he felt… different. Lighter, somehow, even though the heaviness of uncertainty still lingered at the edges of his thoughts. He didn’t know where they were going from here, how he was going to handle everything, or what the next step would look like. But for the first time in a very long time, he felt something close to freedom. It wasn’t peace—not yet—but it was a start. A crack in the weight he had carried for too long.

Rubbing his face, Danny pushed himself upright, his body still sluggish from sleep. He stood and shuffled toward the door, his mind still foggy. He was halfway to the bathroom when his foot caught on something, nearly sending him tumbling. He looked down to see a box, carefully placed just outside his door.

His brows furrowed as he bent down to pick it up, the grogginess in his mind giving way to sharp curiosity. He carried it back to the bed, setting it down carefully before sitting beside it. For a moment, he just stared at it, the plain box suddenly feeling heavier than it looked. His hands hovered over the lid, hesitating.

He knew what it was. He had asked for it. And here it was, waiting for him. But now, staring at it, he wasn’t sure he was ready. Could he handle it? Did he want to?

Finally, he swallowed hard and opened the box. His breath hitched, his chest tightening as he took in the sight before him. Hundreds of postcards, neatly stacked, one after the other. They were organized, almost reverently, as though every single one had been cared for despite never being sent.

His fingers hovered over the top card, barely brushing against it, like touching it would burn. His throat felt thick, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the collection of unsent words, unsaid thoughts. Each postcard represented a moment, a memory, a piece of Steve he had never known about.

Danny took a shaky breath, his hand finally settling on the first postcard. He picked it up, turning it over to see Steve’s handwriting. The words blurred for a moment as his eyes filled with unshed tears. This was real. All of it. Steve had written to him, thought of him, carried him in his heart across countless places and times.

He chose one. The postcard featured a breathtaking view of the iconic Tokyo Tower at night, illuminated in warm red and white, with the sprawling cityscape sparkling below. Cherry blossoms framed the edges, adding a touch of delicate beauty.

He turned it over and read it.

~~~ Postcard from Tokyo, Japan ~~~
"Danny,
You’d hate it here. Too crowded, too noisy, and the food would confuse the hell out of you. But you’d love the order, the way people respect each other’s space, and the beauty tucked into every corner of the city. I found a park today—quiet, peaceful. I sat there for hours, and all I could think about was what you’d say if you were here. Something sarcastic, no doubt. God, I miss that. I miss you.
– Aishiteru -I Love you- Steve"

He held the card in his hand for what felt like an eternity before setting it down and looking back into the box. The weight of it all threatened to overwhelm him, but there was also a pull—an urge to know, to understand. To see the pieces of Steve’s journey, even if it hurt.
Danny let out a shaky exhale, his fingers brushing over the next card in the stack. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle this, how he was supposed to process it all. But one thing was certain: these postcards, these pieces of Steve—they were his to hold now. And somehow, he had to figure out what to do with them.
He takes another one with a cozy, bustling pub lit by golden light spilling onto cobblestone streets. Musicians are playing traditional Irish instruments, and patrons raise glasses of Guinness in cheer. The vibrant green of Ireland’s rolling hills peeks faintly in the background and reads it:

~~~ Postcard from Dublin, Ireland ~~~
"Danno,
I walked into a pub tonight, and the music reminded me of you—something about the rhythm, the warmth of the place. The people here are so alive, so connected. They made me think of how you are with people. How you connect without even trying. It’s a gift, Danny, one I never appreciated enough. I had a whiskey for you. Well, maybe more than one.
– I miss you, Steve"

And another: This postcard showcases the vast, rugged beauty of the Outback: a red earth landscape stretching endlessly, with a single dirt road disappearing into the horizon. A lone kangaroo is silhouetted against a blazing orange and pink sunset. He turned it over :

~~~ Postcard from the Australian Outback ~~~
"Danny,
I know you’d call me crazy for being out here. It’s too hot, too empty, too… endless. But there’s a kind of peace here that I haven’t felt in a long time. It makes me think about you and the kids. About what I left behind. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make it right, but I want to believe I could. I hope you’re doing okay. I hope they’re doing okay.
– I think of you all, Steve"

His heart was trying to free itself from his chest as a tear slipped silently down his cheek. He put the cards back in their place in the box, breathing heavily. He didn’t know what he had expected when he had asked to see the cards, but now he doubted his ability to read them all without losing himself in the process.

It was everything he had ever wanted from Steve—except, of course, Steve’s return. These cards might have helped so much during the absence, or maybe they would have only reopened the wounds each time they arrived. He didn’t know anymore. His head felt fogged, heavy, but he knew one thing—he needed a break.

He closed the box cautiously, as though afraid it might spill its contents and overwhelm him further. Standing, he made his way to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. His eyes, red-rimmed from sleep and tears, stared back at him in the mirror. He pressed his hands to the sink, gripping it tightly, willing himself to breathe.

Downstairs, he could hear Joanie’s light, cheerful voice cutting through the silence. He exhaled slowly, the sound grounding him. Maybe the kiddo would help him clear his head.

“Snowman,” he muttered to himself, straightening up. “Maybe we can make a snowman.”

He turned toward the stairs, leaving the box behind for now. There was time. For the first time in years, he felt like there might actually be time.

-

Joanie jumped on him as soon as he got downstairs, her little voice bubbling with excitement. "Uncle Danny! Uncle Danny!" she called, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around his leg. “I miss you!” she added, looking up at him with wide, earnest eyes.

Danny felt his heart clench painfully at her words, a bittersweet ache settling in his chest. But he braced himself, forcing a gentle smile as he knelt beside her. “Hey, munchkin,” he said softly, brushing her hair back tenderly. “I just took a nap. I wasn’t far, promise.”

Her little arms stayed wrapped around him for a moment longer before she let go, her face brightening with his reassurance. Danny stood up, glancing toward the couch where Mary and Steve sat, engrossed in a card game. The sight of them relaxed him slightly, their laughter and banter filling the space with an ease he wasn’t ready to disrupt.

“Lunch is in the oven,” Mary said, not looking up as she played her turn. But when she glanced at him briefly, her brow furrowed with concern. Danny knew instantly he must look as bad as he felt. He shook his head slightly, silently pleading with her not to say anything.

Mary hesitated but gave a small nod, understanding his unspoken request. Danny exhaled quietly in relief. He wasn’t ready to explain himself. Not yet. And he definitely didn’t want to meet Steve’s gaze—not with the weight of the postcards still fresh in his mind. He couldn’t handle the guilt or, worse, the pity he feared he’d see there.

So he ate quickly, standing at the counter, barely tasting the food as he tried to shake off the emotional haze. In less than ten minutes, he wiped his hands on a napkin and turned to Joanie, his voice light as he crouched down to her level. “Hey, Joanie, have you ever made a snowman before?”

Her eyes grew wide as saucers, and she shook her head, her little pigtails bouncing. “No!”

“Well,” Danny said with a playful grin, “what do you think? Should we give it a try?”

Joanie’s face lit up with excitement, and she nodded enthusiastically. Glancing toward the couch, Danny saw Mary and Steve still engrossed in their game. He raised a finger to his lips, making a shushing gesture to Joanie, who giggled and nodded as if they were plotting a great escape.

He helped her bundle up in layers of jackets, beanies, and gloves, making sure she was properly insulated before grabbing his own coat and gloves. Taking her small hand in his, they quietly slipped out the door.

The cold air hit him like a shock at first, but as he breathed it in, it felt… refreshing. Cleansing, even. Joanie’s laughter as she crunched through the snow was infectious, and Danny felt his mood begin to lighten with each step. They started rolling snow into a "big ball," Joanie insisting it was for Olaf, her favorite Frozen character, of course.

“Bigger, Uncle Danny!” she squealed, clapping her mittened hands. “Olaf needs a big belly!”

Danny laughed, helping her push the snowball across the yard until it was nearly too heavy to move. “Alright, munchkin. That’s big enough. Olaf’s been eating too many pancakes.”

Joanie giggled, her joy cutting through Danny’s lingering heaviness like sunshine breaking through clouds. They worked together to make the head ball, their hands red from the cold despite the gloves. Danny couldn’t help but smile, feeling lighter and freer with every laugh Joanie let out. The weight of the past few days seemed to melt away, replaced by the simple joy of being in the moment with her.

But just as they were about to put the head on Olaf, Danny felt a sudden thud against his back, followed by another hit to his leg. He turned sharply, confused, just in time to hear Joanie cry out in surprise.

Before he could react, a snowball hit him square in the chest. He looked up to see Mary laughing, already packing another snowball, and Steve crouched down, scooping up snow with a mischievous grin.

“Snow fight!” Mary yelled, aiming her next snowball at Joanie, who squealed with delight and ran toward her mom.

Danny barely had time to process what was happening before another snowball hit him, this time on the arm. He turned to see Steve grinning at him, a challenge in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s on, McGarrett,” Danny muttered, scooping up his own handful of snow. He launched it at Steve, hitting him in the shoulder.

What followed was chaos—laughter, shouts, and snow flying in every direction. Joanie ran in circles, giggling uncontrollably as Mary and Danny teamed up to chase Steve, only for Steve to turn the tables with surprising accuracy. For a long, blissful moment, it was just them, playing like kids, letting the cold and the snow wash away everything else.

But then, Steve accidentally hit Danny square in the face. Steve froze, immediately jumping toward him, his hands raised in apology. “Danny, I’m so—”

Before he could finish, Danny scooped up a handful of snow and slammed it into Steve’s face, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Fair’s fair,” Danny said, grinning as Steve sputtered and wiped snow from his face.

They both laughed, the sound pure and unguarded. Without thinking, Danny reached out to brush the snow from Steve’s hair. Steve, in turn, reached out and gently wiped the snow clinging to Danny’s eyebrows. Their laughter quieted as they realized the intimacy of the gesture, their hands lingering for a beat too long.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. The laughter and the cold faded, leaving only the warmth of their shared gaze. It was innocent, and yet it wasn’t. It held so much—years of unspoken feelings, of pain and longing and hope.

Joanie’s sudden shout broke the moment, pulling them back to reality. “Gotcha, Uncle Danny!” she yelled, hurling a tiny snowball at his knee.

Danny and Steve both turned to her, grateful for the distraction. “Oh, you’re in trouble now, munchkin!” Danny called, scooping her up and spinning her around as she laughed.

They finished building Olaf together, Joanie proudly placing a scarf around his neck “so he won’t be cold” and a carrot for his nose. As they stepped back to admire their work, Danny couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in a long time, he felt something close to hope.

Before heading back inside, Mary stood still for a moment, gazing at the snow-covered yard with a wistful smile. “You know,” she began, her voice carrying a nostalgic warmth, “I used to love doing snow angels when I was a kid. Haven’t done it in years.”

Joanie tugged at her mom’s coat, looking up at her with wide, curious eyes. “Snowgel? What’s a snowgel, Mommy?”

Steve and Danny both chuckled at Joanie’s mispronunciation, their laughter blending with Mary’s as she crouched down to explain. “Snow angel, sweetheart. It’s when you lie down in the snow and move your arms and legs like this—” she mimed the motion—“and it makes the shape of an angel in the snow.”

Joanie gasped, her excitement bubbling over. “I wanna make a snowgel! Please, Mommy!”

Mary laughed, nodding. “Alright, alright. Let’s show you how.”

They all exchanged amused glances before lying down in the snow, Joanie flopping down in the middle with her Bunny and Snowy set carefully aside on a nearby log. “Okay, munchkin,” Danny said, his voice teasing. “Watch and learn from the pros.”

Joanie giggled as Danny, Steve, and Mary began moving their arms and legs in wide arcs, the soft crunch of the snow filling the crisp air. “Like this, Jojo,” Mary said, demonstrating again as Joanie tried to mimic her.

Joanie’s laughter rang out, pure and joyful, as she waved her arms and legs enthusiastically, barely following the rhythm. “Snowgel! Snowgel!” she squealed, the sound contagious enough to make even Danny burst out laughing.

Steve, lying on Joanie’s other side, glanced at Danny with a grin. “I think she’s a natural.”

“Yeah, well, she’s definitely got more enthusiasm than technique,” Danny quipped, though his eyes were soft as he watched Joanie. “Not that it matters. Look at her. She’s having the time of her life.”

They all laughed, their breath visible in the cold air as they lay sprawled in the snow, their bodies making imprints that looked more like abstract art than angels. The sheer silliness of the moment melted any lingering tension, leaving only shared joy.

Eventually, Joanie’s cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and she shivered, her little hands tucked under her chin. “I’m cold,” she announced.

“Alright, snow angel,” Danny said, sitting up and brushing the snow from his coat. “Time to head back inside before you turn into an ice cube.”

As Mary helped Joanie up and dusted the snow off her jacket, Danny pushed himself to his feet, extending a hand toward Steve. “Come on, McGarrett. Don’t lie there all day.”

Steve reached up, taking Danny’s offered hand. Their eyes met as Danny pulled him to his feet, a spark of something unspoken passing between them. For a moment, time seemed to freeze, the world narrowing to just the two of them. The snow clung to their coats, their breaths mingling in the cold air as they stood closer than necessary.

Steve’s hand lingered in Danny’s, his grip warm and steady despite the chill. Danny’s heart thudded in his chest, but he didn’t look away, couldn’t look away.

Mary’s voice broke the moment. “Come on, boys. Joanie’s freezing!”

Danny blinked, breaking eye contact as he let go of Steve’s hand and turned toward the house. “Yeah, yeah, we’re coming,” he called, his voice steady, though his pulse raced.

As they headed back inside, the snow angels they had made lay behind them, fleeting impressions in the snow that would soon fade. But for now, they were there—a reminder of a moment shared, a fleeting piece of something fragile yet meaningful.

They stepped inside, the warmth of the fire Steve had stoked earlier seeping into their frozen limbs. The house smelled faintly of woodsmoke, and Joanie immediately ran to the couch, shedding her coat and boots in a trail behind her.

“I’ll get the hot chocolate,” Danny said, shrugging off his jacket and heading to the kitchen without waiting for a response. “Coffee for us, right?” he called over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, pulling off his gloves and placing them near the fireplace. He grabbed another log and set it carefully on the flames, watching as the fire crackled to life, the room growing warmer by the second. Mary was helping Joanie out of her snow-soaked layers, her little girl still bouncing with residual energy from their snow adventure.

When Danny returned, he carried two mugs of steaming coffee and a smaller tray with hot chocolate for Mary and Joanie. “Here we go,” he announced, setting it all down on the coffee table. “One cup of sugar overload for the kiddo and one for the exhausted mom.”

Mary smiled gratefully as she took the mug. “Thanks, Danny.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, plopping onto the far end of the couch with his coffee. Joanie climbed into Mary’s lap, clutching her mug with both hands as she sipped carefully.

Steve sat down at the other end of the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his coffee in hand. “Alright,” he said, gesturing toward the remote. “What’s the movie of choice, Jojo?”

Joanie didn’t even hesitate. “Frozen!”

Steve and Danny exchanged a look, both smiling faintly. “Of course,” Danny said with a chuckle, taking a sip of his coffee.

Mary tucked Joanie under the blanket as Steve pressed play. The opening notes of Let It Go had barely begun when Joanie started giggling and wiggling in excitement. She sang along in her tiny, off-key voice, her energy seemingly endless despite her flushed cheeks and tired eyes.

Mary leaned over, giving Danny an apologetic look. “She’s on the nerves,” she whispered. “Too tired to sleep but completely wired from all the snow play. She’ll crash eventually.”

Danny smiled, brushing Joanie’s hair tenderly as she clung to her Bunny and Snowy, now swaddled under the blanket with her. “Yeah, I know,” he said softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Mary smiled back at him, her expression grateful. Danny leaned back, letting the movie’s familiar songs and Joanie’s happy chatter fill the space. As the fire crackled and the warmth of the room wrapped around them all, he couldn’t help but glance across the couch at Steve, who was quietly watching the screen, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the flames.

It felt... nice. Comfortable, even. Like the family they once had, or could’ve been. For a moment, Danny let himself sit in that feeling, ignoring the weight of everything left unsaid. It wouldn’t last, but for now, it was enough.

Before the end of the movie, Joanie had fallen fast asleep, her tiny body curled against Danny’s side, her head resting on his chest. Her soft, even breaths were warm against him, her Bunny and Snowy squished between her arms and his. Danny glanced down at her, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the weight that still sat heavy in his chest. There was something grounding about having her so
close, something that made the world feel a little less sharp, even for a moment.

He shifted slightly, trying to ease the growing ache in his back from sitting still for so long. But the second he moved, Joanie stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. “Uncle Danny,” she mumbled sleepily, clinging to his arm.

“Shhh, munchkin,” Danny whispered, smoothing her hair back gently. “It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

But it was too late. She blinked groggily, looking around the room before letting out a soft whimper. Mary, who had been watching from her spot on the couch, sighed softly and reached out to take her.

“Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you some dinner, then off to bed, okay?”

Joanie shook her head, clinging tighter to Danny. “No, stay,” she mumbled.

Danny chuckled softly. “You gotta eat something, kiddo. Then you can crash for the night. How’s that sound?”

Joanie pouted but eventually let Mary take her, her little body sagging with exhaustion as she was carried toward the kitchen.

“Let’s get dinner going,” Steve said, stretching his arms over his head. “She’s not the only one who’s wiped.”

They pulled together a simple meal, something quick and easy—leftover soup Steve had brought from town and some grilled cheese sandwiches. Joanie barely made it through half her bowl before her head began drooping against Mary’s shoulder again. They all exchanged knowing smiles, the day’s events clearly taking their toll on the little girl.

“She’s done,” Mary said with a quiet laugh, gently patting Joanie’s back. “I’ll get her to bed.”

Steve nodded, gathering the dishes as Danny followed them to help tuck Joanie in. Once she was snug under the covers, surrounded by her Bunny and Snowy, Mary whispered her goodnights and kissed her forehead. Danny lingered for a moment, brushing her hair back one last time before tiptoeing out of the room.

-

Chapter 17: 17

The goodnights were quiet after that, everyone too tired to say much as they retreated to their respective rooms. Steve gave Danny a small nod as he headed to his room, something unspoken passing between them before the door clicked shut.

Danny tiptoed into his blue room, his steps slowing as his eyes landed on the box still sitting on his bed. It was waiting for him, just as he had left it.

He took a hard breath, his chest tightening as he walked toward it. Sitting down beside the box, he stared at it for a long moment. His hand hovered over the lid, trembling slightly. He had to. He wanted to. But damn, if he wasn’t terrified too.

The weight of everything he had read earlier still lingered in his mind, each postcard unraveling a piece of the wall he had built around his feelings. And now, sitting here, staring at the hundreds more waiting for him, he felt that wall cracking even further.

“I can’t ignore this forever,” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. His fingers brushed the lid, hesitating. “Just… one more,” he whispered, almost like a promise to himself.

With a shaky exhale, he lifted the lid, the familiar sight of Steve’s handwriting on the neatly stacked postcards drawing him in once again.

 

~~~ Postcard from Rome, Italy ~~~
"Danny,
This place is you. The food, the chaos, the passion. It’s everywhere. I walked through the streets today, and every corner felt like something I should be sharing with you. You’d love it here. The history, the stories. I ate pasta and thought of you. Stupid, huh? I hope you’re happy. I hope you’re… okay. I think about that more than I should.
Ti amo -I love you- Steve”

 

~~~ Postcard from Montana, USA ~~~
"Danny,
I’m here. At the ranch. It’s quiet, so damn quiet. Joe would’ve liked that. He’d have told me to get out of my own head, to stop wallowing. I’m trying. I’ve been fixing things here, little by little. Sometimes I imagine you and the kids here. Charlie would love the space to run around. Grace would probably roll her eyes at the lack of Wi-Fi. You’d complain about the cold. But maybe you’d love it too. Maybe we could’ve made this something… ours. I’m sorry, Danny. For all of it. For leaving. For not knowing how to come back.
I think of you - Steve"

 

~~~ Postcard from Paris, France ~~~
"Danny,
You know what they say about Paris—city of romance and all that. It’s beautiful here, Danny. The lights, the food, the culture… but none of it means anything without someone to share it with. I saw a little girl laughing with her dad at a café, and it made me think of Gracie. She’d love it here. She’d probably convince you to wear one of those berets just to mess with you. I miss her. I miss you. God, I miss everything.
Je t’aime -I love you- Steve"

 

~~~ Postcard from New Zealand ~~~
"Danny,
This place is unreal. The mountains, the lakes… It’s like stepping into another world. You know what’s funny? I kept thinking about you trying to hike one of these trails, swearing the whole way about how it’s not worth the effort. But then, I thought about Charlie. He’d love this. He’d be running ahead, climbing rocks, grinning like a maniac. I’d keep up with him, but I know you’d end up yelling at both of us for acting like kids. It’d be worth it, though. I wish you were here.
Aroha ahau ki a koe -I love you- Steve"

 

~~~ Postcard from South Africa ~~~
"Charlie,
Hey, buddy. You wouldn’t believe the animals I’ve seen here—lions, elephants, even a rhino. I think you’d love it. You always had that curiosity about the world, that spark for adventure. I hope you never lose that. I keep thinking about how you’d want to get closer to the animals, ask a hundred questions about them, maybe even try to feed one. Your dad would have his hands full keeping you out of trouble, but he’d be grinning the whole time. I hope you’re doing okay, Charlie. I hope I get to tell you all about this one day.
Ek mis jou -I miss you- Steve"

 

~~~ Postcard from Kyoto, Japan ~~~
"Grace,
The cherry blossoms are in bloom here. You’d love it. The way the pink petals fall, blanketing the ground like snow—it’s beautiful. It made me think of you and how you always bring color and light wherever you go. I can picture you walking here, taking pictures, asking questions about the culture, soaking it all in. Your dad’s right—you’re something special. I hope you know that, Grace. I’m sorry I haven’t been around to tell you that in person. One day, I hope I can."
Kimi ga koishii -I miss you- Steve”

 

~~~ Postcard from Patagonia, Argentina ~~~
"Danny,
The mountains here are incredible—sharp, rugged, and untouched. It made me think of the hikes we could’ve taken. Well, more like hikes I could’ve dragged you on, with you swearing every five minutes about how it wasn’t worth it. But I know you would’ve liked it deep down. There’s a quiet here that feels good, but it also feels lonely. Like something’s missing. Someone’s missing. I think you’d understand that feeling better than anyone. I’m sorry for everything, Danny. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to say that in person, but I need you to know it’s true.
Te extraño-I miss you- Steve."

 

~~~ Postcard from Alaska, USA ~~~
"Grace and Charlie,
This one’s for both of you. I’m in Alaska now, and it’s cold as hell here. But the snow, the mountains, the wildlife—it’s beautiful. Grace, there are views here that would take your breath away. And Charlie, you’d be the first to try skiing down one of these mountains, wouldn’t you? I can picture it so clearly. I think about you both all the time. I wonder what you’d think of the places I’ve been, what we could’ve done together. I hope you’re both happy, healthy, and thriving. I hope you know how much I care about you, even from far away.
I miss you- Steve."

 

~~~ Postcard from Barcelona, Spain ~~~
"Danny,
This city is full of life. The streets buzz with energy, and every corner seems to have a story to tell. I walked down La Rambla today, and the people reminded me of you—vibrant, passionate, full of fire. There’s a rhythm to this place, like it’s alive in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.
I stopped by the Sagrada Família. It’s still unfinished, and it made me think of us. Unfinished. Incomplete. But still beautiful in its own way.
I don’t know if I’ll ever find the words to tell you what you mean to me. But if I could, I think they’d sound like the music I heard on these streets—messy, raw, and full of soul.
Te echo de menos- I miss you- Steve."

 

~~~ Postcard from Jaipur, India ~~~
"Danny,
India is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s chaos and beauty all at once. The colors, the spices, the noise—it’s overwhelming but incredible. I visited a market today, and I swear I could hear your voice in my head, complaining about the crowd and haggling over prices.
There’s this calmness I found here, though. The temples, the way people take a moment to just… be. It made me think of how you always seem to find the calm in the middle of my chaos.
I saw an elephant today and thought about Charlie. He’d love it here. The animals, the colors, the stories—they’d spark something in him, I just know it.
Mujhe tumhari yaad aati hai- I think of you- Steve."

 

~~~ Postcard from the Scottish Highlands, Scotland ~~~
"Danny,
The Highlands are… wild. Untamed. Standing out here feels like the edge of the world. It’s quiet in a way I’m not used to, but it’s a good quiet. A thinking kind of quiet.
I hiked to a small loch today, and the stillness reminded me of those rare moments when you weren’t yelling at me—when we’d just… be. I miss those moments.
I don’t know why I keep writing these. Maybe it’s my way of holding on to you, even if you’ll never see them. But out here, where the world feels so big and I feel so small, I can’t help but wish you were here.
Tha gaol agam ort- I love you- Steve."

 

Danny had been sitting on the bed for what felt like hours, postcards scattered around him in no particular order. Each one was a glimpse into Steve’s mind—his travels, his thoughts, his regrets—but they all carried the same haunted, unfinished tone. Yet, as he sifted through the pile, his fingers brushed against one that stood out immediately.

It wasn’t like the others. Larger in size, the edges sharper, the image on the front vibrant and vivid—green and gold streaks of the Northern Lights painting a dark Icelandic sky. But what truly caught Danny’s attention was the date in the corner. Three months ago.

Steve had written this recently.

His heart thudded heavily in his chest as he turned it over, the handwriting unmistakably Steve’s but somehow neater, more deliberate, as if he had taken extra care. Danny’s fingers trembled as he began to read:

 

"Danny,

I stood under the Northern Lights tonight. They stretched across the sky like ribbons of green and gold, shimmering and shifting like they were alive. Everyone says it’s supposed to be magical. And it is. It really is. But standing there, feeling that quiet—so vast and endless—it just made me think of you.
I imagined you standing next to me. I could almost hear your voice, complaining about the cold and asking how long we’d have to stay out here. You’d be pacing, hands stuffed in your pockets, muttering something about catching pneumonia. But then I thought about how you’d stop mid-rant, your breath catching, when you finally looked up. You’d act like it wasn’t a big deal, but I know better. I’d see it in your eyes—how much you’d love it, even if you’d never admit it.

Danny… I’ve been to so many places, seen so many things, but all I can think about is how much I wish you were here with me. How I wish you were anywhere with me. I’ve tried to let it go, tried to move past it, but I can’t. No matter where I go or what I do, you’re still here. In my head. In my chest. It doesn’t stop.
I wish I hadn’t been such a coward. That I’d told you how I felt about you. How much you mean to me. How much I love you. How much I wish that your kids were mine too. That the family we had once was real, and still alive, and not just something I dream about every damn night.

Sometimes I tell myself you’re better off without me, and maybe that’s true. Hell, it probably is. But the truth is, I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing you. I don’t think I want to stop.
Take care of yourself, Danny. And if you ever find yourself standing under the Northern Lights, I hope you think of me, too.

As they say here: Ég sakna þín -I miss you- Steve.”

Danny sat frozen, the postcard heavy in his hands. Unlike the others, this one wasn’t just a message from a man wandering the world. It was a confession, raw and unfiltered. It was Steve, stripped of every wall he’d ever built, speaking directly to him.

His chest tightened painfully, like his heart was being squeezed in a vice. The weight of the words—the honesty, the vulnerability—made it hard to breathe. He reread the card, once, twice, a third time, his eyes lingering on the phrases that hit hardest: “I wish I hadn’t been such a coward.” “I love you.” “I wish your kids were mine too.”

It was too much. Too much and not enough. The words cracked something wide open in him—something he’d buried so deep, he’d convinced himself it was gone. But now it was all rising to the surface, overwhelming him with every emotion he had spent years trying to bury: anger, grief, longing, and—dammit—love.

His hands shook as he traced the edge of the postcard, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Three months ago. Steve had been standing under the Northern Lights, thinking of him. Loving him. Writing this. While Danny had been back home, trying to move on, trying to convince himself that he was okay. That he didn’t need Steve.

He let out a choked laugh, bitter and broken. “Jesus, Steve,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”

The words on the card felt alive, like they had a heartbeat of their own. They pulsed in his chest, heavy and relentless, until he couldn’t hold them anymore. A tear slipped down his cheek, and then another, until he was wiping at his face with the back of his hand, angry at himself for falling apart.

He wanted to hate Steve for this. For disappearing. For staying away. For leaving him to carry everything on his own. But as much as he wanted to hold onto that anger, it was slipping through his fingers, replaced by something warmer, something softer. Something terrifying.

Danny stared at the postcard for what felt like an eternity before finally setting it down on the bed. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands as he tried to calm the storm raging inside him.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know if he could ever forgive Steve, or if he could ever trust him again. But what he did know—what he couldn’t deny—was that Steve still had a place in his heart.

A place that had never really gone away, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

The words on the card echoed in his mind: “I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing you.”

And as much as it hurt, Danny realized… he felt the same way.

Danny’s heart thundered in his chest, the sound almost deafening in the silence of the room. He didn’t know what had propelled him here, what had urged him to knock on Steve’s door in the dead of night, or why he couldn’t bring himself to turn back. He only knew that something inside him was unraveling, and he needed… something. Needed Steve.

The dark room swallowed him as he stepped inside, his shadow stretching across the floor. His eyes adjusted slowly, tracing the faint outline of Steve sitting up in bed, his silhouette illuminated faintly by the moonlight filtering through the curtains.

“Danny?” Steve’s voice was soft, hesitant, tinged with worry. “Is everything okay? Joanie? Mary?”

Danny shook his head quickly, the motion almost jerky. “No, no, they’re fine,” he said, his voice a strained mix of reassurance and raw emotion. His hands trembled slightly as he took another step inside. “I…” He trailed off, the words choking in his throat.

Steve frowned, his concern deepening. Danny could see it even in the dim light. Steve shifted forward, his posture tense as he waited for an explanation. “What is it, Danny?” he asked gently, his voice quieter now, cautious.

“I…” Danny tried again, but the words wouldn’t come. He dragged a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture as he fought to steady himself. How could he explain this? How could he articulate the storm raging inside him, the weight of everything he’d read, the emotions that were suffocating him?

Steve didn’t push, but the silence stretched between them like a fragile thread, taut and trembling.

Finally, Danny found his voice. “I read it,” he said, the words coming out in a rush. “All of it.”

Steve froze, his shoulders stiffening as he exhaled slowly. “I figured,” he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of shame. He looked down at his hands, his fingers twisting the edge of the blanket. “I’m sorry,” he added after a beat, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe… maybe I shouldn’t have let you see them. I—”

“What? No!” Danny’s voice cut through Steve’s self-reproach, sharp and filled with a surprising intensity. “God, no, Steve. It’s…” He stepped closer to the bed, his words faltering as he tried to gather his thoughts. “It was… heart-wrenching and beautiful and…” His breath hitched, and the tears he had tried to hold back began to spill, glistening trails down his cheeks. “You’re such an idiot.”

Steve’s head snapped up at that, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What?” he asked, his voice wary, unsure of where Danny was going.

“You heard me,” Danny said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re an idiot, Steve. For leaving. For staying away. For… for thinking you didn’t matter. For thinking I’d be better off without you.” His voice cracked, and he drew in a shaky breath, the tears coming faster now. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t see what you are to me. What you’ve always been.”

Steve’s breath hitched audibly, his gaze locking onto Danny’s with an intensity that made the air between them feel electric. But he didn’t speak. He couldn’t. The weight of Danny’s words left him stunned, frozen in place.

Danny took another step closer, his hands shaking as he reached out, brushing his fingers over the edge of the bed. He hesitated, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for something—an anchor, a sign, anything. Then, without another word, he sat down on the bed, his movements deliberate but filled with an undercurrent of vulnerability. Slowly, he lay down beside Steve, turning on his side to face him.

Steve’s breath stuttered, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he watched Danny settle into the space beside him. Danny’s arm slid beneath the pillow under his head, his other hand resting in the small gap between them. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look directly at Steve, but his presence was palpable, heavy with unspoken emotions.

Steve didn’t move at first, too afraid that any shift would shatter the delicate moment. His heart pounded as he finally lay back down, mirroring Danny’s position. His hand hovered near Danny’s for a fleeting second before settling on the mattress, inches away. His eyes searched Danny’s face, scanning for answers, for permission, for something to hold on to.

Danny’s gaze remained fixed on the space between them, his breathing shallow and uneven. He didn’t know what he was doing, what he was supposed to say, how he was supposed to feel. All he knew was that he was here, in this room that was supposed to be his too, in this bed that could have been his, next to this man who had once, almost been his—who maybe, could still be his.

“I…” Steve started, his voice hesitant, but he stopped himself, unsure of what to say. His hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach out but didn’t dare.

Danny closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “Just… don’t say anything,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Not right now.”

Steve nodded silently, his eyes fixed on Danny’s face, memorizing every detail in the dim light. The tension between them was heavy, but there was something else there too—something fragile, something unspoken, something that had been buried for far too long.

And for the first time in years, neither of them ran. They stayed. Together. In the quiet. In the dark. Letting the weight of everything settle between them, hoping—maybe even believing—that it wouldn’t break them.

The silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t heavy—it was charged, buzzing with all the things they weren’t saying but couldn’t ignore. Danny lay still, his breathing gradually slowing, but tears continued to slip freely down his cheeks, tracing paths that felt both cathartic and raw. His chest still ached, tight and heavy, as if every word and feeling he’d buried over the years was now clawing its way to the surface, leaving him exposed in a way he hadn’t been in a long time.

Steve mirrored him, his hand resting tentatively near Danny’s on the mattress, close but not quite touching. He wanted to speak, to reach out, to bridge the gap between them, but the air felt too fragile—like one wrong move would shatter whatever fragile truce they had found. So instead, he watched Danny, his gaze drawn to the flutter of his lashes, the tension that lingered faintly in the lines of his brow, and the way his chest rose and fell unevenly with every breath.

After what felt like an eternity, Danny finally spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Why didn’t you send them?”

Steve blinked, startled by the question, but he didn’t look away. He exhaled softly, the sound barely audible in the quiet room. “Because I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me. Not after the way I left. I thought… I thought it was better if I stayed away.”

Danny’s jaw tightened, and though he didn’t look at Steve, his words carried a sharp edge, his gaze fixed somewhere distant and unreachable. “You thought wrong.”

Steve’s breath hitched, his chest tightening at the quiet conviction in Danny’s voice. He swallowed hard, searching for something—anything—to say, but nothing felt like enough.

Danny finally turned his head, his eyes locking onto Steve’s in the dim light. His voice was thick, trembling with emotion. “Do you know how many nights I stayed up wondering? How many times I looked at my phone, waiting for a call, a message, anything? And all this time… you were writing to me.”

Steve opened his mouth, but Danny cut him off, his voice breaking with the weight of everything he was holding back. “You were writing to me, Steve. And you didn’t send a single one.”

“I didn’t know how,” Steve admitted, his voice low and raw. “I didn’t know how to face you, Danny. I was scared. I thought I’d already done too much damage. And every time I thought about sending one, I… I couldn’t. I couldn’t take that step.”

Danny’s eyes softened, but the hurt lingered, deep and unyielding. He let out a shaky breath, his hand twitching slightly on the mattress. “You’re such an idiot, you know that?”

Steve huffed out a quiet laugh, his lips curving into a faint, self-deprecating smile. “Yeah. I know.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the tension slowly shifting into something warmer, something tentative but real. Danny’s hand, still resting between them, inched closer. Then, shyly, it brushed against Steve’s, hovering hesitantly before resting lightly atop it. Steve’s breath hitched, his eyes flicking down to the small movement before returning to Danny’s. Slowly, deliberately, Steve turned his hand over, palm up, and wrapped his long fingers delicately around Danny’s. The touch was light, unsure, but it was real.

Danny stared down at their joined hands, his own trembling slightly, before his gaze lifted to meet Steve’s. There was something unspoken in his eyes, something vulnerable and raw that mirrored the ache Steve felt in his own chest.

“I don’t know what to do with this, Steve,” Danny admitted, his voice cracked and uneven. “I don’t know how to take all of this and make sense of it.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve said quietly, his thumb brushing gently against the back of Danny’s hand. “Not all at once. Just… don’t shut me out, Danny. Please.”

Danny’s gaze softened further, and for the first time, a flicker of something like hope appeared in his eyes. He nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Okay.” His fingers tightened around Steve’s, anchoring them together, grounding them both in the shared moment.

Steve let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his body relaxing for the first time since Danny had walked into the room. It wasn’t everything—not yet—but it was something. A fragile beginning, a tentative thread of hope that neither of them dared let go of.

And for now, that was enough.

They lay there in the quiet, hands intertwined like a lifeline. Slowly, as the weight of the day pressed down on them both, their breathing evened out, and sleep claimed them—side by side, tethered by a fragile but undeniable bond.

-

Chapter 18: 18

The morning found them almost exactly as they had been the night before, though at some point during the night, the space between them had disappeared. Now, their bodies were nearly aligned, shoulders brushing, their legs tangled just slightly. Hands that had clasped each other so tightly the night before now rested loosely, still joined, as if neither had wanted to let go even in sleep.

Steve was the first to wake, his mind hazy at first, thinking for a fleeting moment that he was dreaming. But the warmth at his side, the soft rise and fall of Danny’s breathing, and the faint, familiar scent of him told him this was real. He blinked a few times, disbelief and wonder warring within him as he processed what he was seeing.

Danny was there, in their room, in their bed, his face peaceful in sleep despite everything that had transpired. Steve couldn’t help but stare, his heart swelling with an overwhelming mix of emotions—gratitude, relief, love. His chest ached with how much he had missed this, how much he had missed Danny.

His lips curled into a soft, almost disbelieving smile as he realized how close they were, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around him like a blanket. Everything between them was far from resolved, and he knew there were still mountains to climb, wounds to heal. But right now, in this fragile, quiet moment, in their cocoon, it didn’t matter.

For the first time in years, Steve felt whole. Complete again.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself savor it, imprinting the feeling into his memory like he was afraid it might slip away. When he opened them again, Danny stirred slightly, shifting closer unconsciously, and Steve’s heart skipped a beat.

He would hold onto this moment for as long as he could. Because, no matter what the day brought, they had this. They had this. And that was everything.

Steve stayed still, watching Danny as he stirred slightly, his face scrunching up in that familiar way Steve had missed so much. For a moment, he thought Danny might wake up, but instead, Danny sighed softly and settled even closer, his hand brushing against Steve’s chest.

Steve’s breath hitched, his body freezing as he felt the light contact. His hand itched to move, to reach out, to touch Danny’s back or thread his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. But he stayed where he was, not daring to do anything that might wake Danny and risk shattering the delicate peace of the moment.

Minutes passed like hours as Steve lay there, soaking it all in—the warmth of Danny next to him, the feel of his breaths brushing against him, the quiet sound of his steady breathing. It was everything Steve had thought he’d lost forever. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe too deeply, afraid that it might all disappear if he did.

Danny stirred again, this time with a soft hum, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked a few times, his gaze unfocused, before his eyes landed on Steve. For a second, he looked confused, like he wasn’t quite sure where he was or why. And then it hit him. His body stiffened for a fraction of a second, his face unreadable, before he relaxed again, his lips tugging into a faint, sleepy smile.

“Morning,” Danny murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

Steve swallowed hard, his own lips twitching into a small smile. “Morning,” he said softly, his voice almost reverent.

Danny’s eyes flicked between Steve’s face and their hands, still loosely connected between them. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t say anything either. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh and closed his eyes again, like he wasn’t ready to face the world just yet. Steve could understand that.

They lay there in silence, the weight of unspoken words hovering between them, but for once, it wasn’t heavy. It was comfortable, warm, like the beginnings of something new. Something fragile but real.

Finally, Danny shifted, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at Steve. His expression was serious, but there was a softness in his eyes that Steve hadn’t seen in years. “I don’t know what this is, Steve,” Danny said quietly, his voice steady but uncertain. “But… I think I want to figure it out.”

Steve’s heart clenched, his chest tightening with a mix of relief and emotion he couldn’t quite name. “Me too,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Me too.”

Danny nodded, his gaze lingering on Steve for a moment longer before he sat up fully, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Okay," Danny said softly, his voice still rough from sleep but carrying a
gentleness that Steve hadn’t heard in years. “I’ll hit the shower and take care of the pancapes before the kiddo wakes up.”

He swung his legs off the bed, halfway to standing, before pausing. He turned slightly toward Steve, his gaze lingering. A small, soft smile spread across his face—a smile that was true, genuine, one

Steve hadn’t seen in far too long. It wasn’t just in the curve of his lips but in the way his eyes softened, like a piece of the wall between them had finally crumbled.

Steve felt his chest tighten, stunned by the simple yet monumental moment. A matching smile tugged at his lips, faint but warm, as if his body couldn’t help but respond to Danny’s.

For a second, neither of them moved, the air between them humming with something too fragile to touch. Then Danny cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “Alright, enough with the sappiness,” he said, rolling his eyes for effect as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “If we keep staring at each other like that, someone’s gonna write a rom-com about us, and I refuse to be in the sequel.”

Steve chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Danny shot him a pointed look over his shoulder as he stood. “Speak for yourself, McGarrett. I’m not built for Hollywood.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely more Broadway,” Steve teased, grinning.

Danny groaned, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “And on that note, I’m hitting the shower before the munchkin wakes up. I’ll handle the pancakes, so you don’t burn the house down.”

He made it halfway to the door before pausing, glancing back at Steve. “And hey…” His voice softened as he met Steve’s gaze, a small but genuine smile curving his lips. “Thanks.”

Steve’s breath hitched slightly, his own smile growing in response. “Anytime.”

Danny rolled his eyes playfully before disappearing into the bathroom, muttering something about how "sap must be contagious."

-

When Danny made his way downstairs, the smell of coffee greeted him, along with the sight of Steve already moving around the kitchen. He was standing at the stove, flipping pancakes with an ease Danny didn’t expect.

“Here,” Steve said, holding out a mug of coffee as Danny approached. His voice was casual, but there was something in the gesture—a quiet offering, a small bridge being built.

Danny took the cup, eyeing him suspiciously. “Who are you, and what have you done with Steve McGarrett? The Steve I know doesn’t voluntarily make pancakes. Or coffee.”

Steve smirked, flipping another pancake onto the growing stack. “What can I say? People change.”

“Uh-huh.” Danny took a sip of his coffee, savoring the warmth. “Or maybe you just realized I’m better at pancakes than you and decided to save yourself the humiliation.”

“Keep talking, Williams, and you’re not getting seconds.”

Danny leaned against the counter, grinning. “You threatening to ration my food now, McGarrett? That’s low, even for you.”

Steve shook his head, his grin widening. “Low is you adding powdered sugar to your coffee, like a heathen.”

“That’s called ‘having taste,’” Danny shot back, taking another sip. “Not that you’d know anything about that, Mr. Butter-in-Your-Coffee.”

The familiar banter flowed easily between them, like slipping into an old rhythm. There was laughter, teasing, the occasional shared glance that lingered just a second too long. And woven through it all
were the light, almost accidental touches—Steve’s hand brushing Danny’s shoulder as he passed him a plate, Danny’s hand lingering on Steve’s back as he reached for the syrup.

It felt natural. It felt like breathing again after years of suffocating.

When Mary and Joanie came downstairs, the atmosphere in the kitchen was unmistakably different. Mary’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly as she took in the scene—the easy smiles, the soft laughter, the
way Danny leaned against the counter as Steve stood just a little too close.

“Morning,” Mary said casually, though her gaze lingered on them. “Everything… okay down here?”

Danny glanced at her, then at Steve, his expression nonchalant. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Mary didn’t answer, but the knowing look she gave them spoke volumes.

Joanie, meanwhile, climbed into her chair, eagerly reaching for the stack of pancakes. “Pancapes!” she declared happily before pausing to look between Danny and Steve with a curious expression, as if
trying to figure out what was different.

Danny ruffled her hair as he sat beside her, ignoring her scrutiny. “That’s right, munchkin. Pancapes. Best in the world.”

Joanie nodded solemnly, digging into her plate, though she kept glancing between Danny and Steve like they’d grown second heads overnight.

Mary smirked behind her coffee mug. “You two make quite the team,” she said, her voice light but pointed.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Mary replied innocently, though the smile playing at her lips suggested otherwise. She turned her attention back to her coffee, leaving the unspoken words hanging in the air.

Danny rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. For once, he didn’t have the energy to fight her. Or maybe he didn’t want to. Not when things finally felt… right.

Steve caught his eye from across the kitchen, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them. Danny didn’t look away. Neither did Steve.

Yeah, Danny thought to himself. This felt right.

Danny’s phone ringing suddenly shattered the warmth of their moment, jolting him back to reality. Frowning, he pulled his phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen before answering.

“Hey, Charlie,” he greeted, his voice light and cheerful, but his expression shifted almost instantly as he listened.

“Hey, Dad… something’s wrong,” Charlie’s voice came through, hesitant but laced with worry.

-

Chapter 19: 19

“Hey, Dad… something’s wrong,” Charlie’s voice came through, hesitant but laced with worry.

 

Danny straightened, his heart sinking. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone sharpening as he started pacing across the room.

“I… I don’t know. There are these men,” Charlie hesitated, the anxiety in his voice tightening Danny’s chest. “I’ve seen them around. This morning near the school, then again near practice, and now… now there are two of them outside the house. Just standing there.”

Danny’s blood ran cold. “What? What men? Charlie, what are you talking about?” His voice rose slightly, the panic creeping in.

Steve, sitting on the edge of the couch, immediately picked up on the tension. “Danny?” he asked quietly, his tone steady but filled with concern.

Danny turned to him, his hand trembling slightly as he put the call on speaker.

“I think it’s the same men,” Charlie continued. “I noticed them earlier, but now they’re just… standing there, outside the house.”

Danny’s jaw clenched, his mind racing. “Okay, Charlie, listen to me. Did you call someone? Is your mom there with you?”

“No, she’s not home. But I called Uncle Junior and Aunt Tani. They said they’d head over as soon as they can.”

Steve leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing as he calculated the situation. “That’s good,” he interjected, his voice calm but firm. “They’ll be there in less than 20 minutes.”

Danny’s head snapped toward Steve, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Junior and Tani are at the H50 headquarters—there’s no way they can make it in 20 minutes!” He turned back to the phone.

Charlie’s voice broke through again, this time tinged with shock. “Wait… is that… Uncle Steve? Dad? What the hell is going on?”

Steve hesitated, guilt flashing across his face. He glanced at Danny, who nodded slightly, giving him permission to address it.

“Hi, Charlie,” Steve said softly, his voice strained with the weight of everything he wasn’t ready to explain.

Charlie paused, his surprise audible even over the phone. “Dad… what the… Uncle Steve is with you?!”

Danny shook his head slightly, refocusing. “Listen to me, Charlie. Forget about that for now. Junior and Tani will be there, but they’ll need at least an hour—maybe more if the roads aren’t clear. Until then, I need you to lock all the doors and windows, pull the curtains, and turn the alarm on. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, okay,” Charlie said, though his voice was still shaky.

“And, Charlie,” Danny continued, his voice softening just slightly. “If anything—anything at all—feels wrong, you call 911 immediately. You hear me? Don’t wait, don’t hesitate. Just call.”

“Okay, Dad,” Charlie replied, though the fear in his voice was evident. “But… what are you gonna do?”

Danny glanced at Steve, their eyes locking in silent communication. Steve’s jaw was tight, his body already radiating the familiar readiness of a man preparing for action.

“I’ll handle it, buddy,” Danny said firmly, though his voice trembled at the edges. “Just do what I said. Stay safe, okay?”

“Okay,” Charlie said again, quieter this time.

Danny ended the call, his hands still gripping the phone tightly as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality. For a moment, he stood there, frozen, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

“Danny,” Steve said gently, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure this out.”

Danny turned to him, his eyes wild with fear and anger. “You heard him, Steve. He’s scared, and they’re out there. What the hell am I supposed to do from here?”

Steve’s grip tightened, grounding him. “We get in touch with Junior and Tani. We make sure they’re on their way. And then we figure out who the hell those guys are and what they want. But first, we keep Charlie safe. You know he’s smart, Danny. He’ll follow your instructions.”

Danny nodded reluctantly, his chest heaving as he tried to calm his breathing. “He’d better,” he muttered, his voice breaking slightly.

“I need to call Junior,” Danny said, already dialing.

“And I’ll see what I can pull up on the cameras near Charlie’s school,” Steve added, grabbing his laptop.

The room was tense, the air charged with urgency and determination.

“Okay,” Danny said after a moment, his voice steadier now. “Junior says they’re on their way, sirens and all. They’ll get there in 30 minutes.”

Steve nodded but hesitated. “That’s good, but… Danny, you’re not still living at my place, are you? Is that why it’s taking them longer?”

Danny stopped pacing, looking at Steve sharply. The question hit him like a punch to the gut. He sighed, shaking his head. “No,” he admitted quietly. “We… we moved out. It was too hard, Steve. Living there, with your ghost…” His voice broke slightly as he breathed out the last part.

Steve’s face fell, the pain clear in his eyes, but he nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said softly, his voice strained but understanding. “Okay.”

Danny opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Steve’s laptop pinged. “Got it,” Steve said, turning the screen toward Danny. They both leaned in, watching grainy footage of men loitering near the school. Steve’s eyes narrowed as he focused on their faces.

Then Danny’s phone rang again. Frowning at the masked number, he hesitated before answering. “Hello?”

The voice on the other end was smooth, taunting. “Hello, Detective Williams. Nathan Strider speaking… or should I say Makani?”

Danny’s grip on the phone tightened as Steve immediately looked up, his body going rigid.

“What do you want?” Danny asked sharply.

“Oh, straight to the point. I admire that. Did your son call you yet?” Makani asked casually, his tone mocking.

Danny’s blood boiled. “What the hell do you want?” he repeated, his voice rising.

“Simple, Mr. Williams,” Makani replied. “I want my daughter. The one I paid you to find.”

Danny’s jaw clenched. “Well, I didn’t find her. Sorry to disappoint.”

Makani chuckled darkly. “Oh, come now. Don’t take me for a fool. I know you’re with her right now. In Montana, no less.”

Danny froze, his heart pounding in his chest. “How—”

“And I also know where your son lives,” Makani continued smoothly. “Where he goes to school. Where he plays his basketball games… He’s quite talented, isn’t he?”

“If you touch him—” Danny growled, his voice trembling with rage.

“Or what?” Makani interrupted. “You’re thousands of miles away, and you’ve got my daughter. So here’s the deal: you give her back to me, and your son stays safe.”

The line went dead, and Danny was left standing there, trembling with fury as he stared at the phone in his hand. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, his voice cracking as Steve reached out, steadying him.

Danny stood frozen, Steve's steadying hand on his shoulder the only thing anchoring him. His heart pounded like a war drum, every nerve in his body on edge. He clenched his jaw tightly, staring at the phone as if willing it to reveal all the answers.

“Danny,” Steve said, his voice quieter now, but firm. “We need to move fast. He’s playing a game, but we’re not going to let him win.”

Danny nodded stiffly, his lips pressed together in a grim line. “I’m not letting anything happen to my son,” he ground out, his voice raw. “Or to Joanie, or Mary. Nobody. Nobody else gets hurt because of this guy.”

Steve stepped closer, his body language radiating calm determination. “We won’t let anything happen to them. I promise you, Danny.”

Danny turned to him, his eyes blazing. “We need more than promises right now, Steve. We need a plan.”

Steve nodded, already shifting into action mode. “First, we get a location on those men outside your son’s house. I’ll call Junior and Tani to coordinate. If they’re not already moving fast enough, I’ll make sure they know what they’re dealing with. Second—” He cut himself off as his laptop pinged. “I’ve got them,” he murmured, turning the screen toward Danny.

Danny leaned over the table, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the surveillance footage Steve had pulled up. The camera showed two men standing on the street near Charlie’s house, shifting occasionally but never moving far. They looked ordinary, but the way they lingered made Danny’s stomach churn.

“Recognize them?” Steve asked, his tone clipped.

Danny shook his head. “No. But it doesn’t matter who they are—they’re working for him.”

Steve nodded, already pulling out his phone. “I’ll send this to Junior and Tani. They’ll know how to handle it.”

As Steve worked, Danny’s mind raced. “He’s watching us, Steve,” he muttered. “Makani—he knows where we are. How? How does he know?”

Steve paused, frowning. “It’s possible he had someone tail us from Jersey. Or he could have been tracking you before that.”

Danny’s hands tightened into fists. “I should’ve been more careful. I shouldn’t have come here—”

“Stop,” Steve said sharply, his tone brooking no argument. “This isn’t your fault, Danny. He’s been planning this for a long time. You coming here didn’t change that. If anything, it’s better you’re here. We can protect each other.”

Danny exhaled heavily, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He glanced at the stairs, his mind flashing to Joanie’s laughter earlier that day. The thought of her being caught in the crossfire made his stomach twist.

“What if he comes here, Steve?” Danny asked, his voice quieter now, filled with an edge of fear he couldn’t hide. “What if he tries something?”

“Then he’ll regret it,” Steve said simply, his voice like steel. “This is my land, Danny. My home. If he steps foot anywhere near it, he won’t know what hit him.”

Danny stared at him, the intensity in Steve’s eyes both reassuring and terrifying. “You’re really ready for this, aren’t you?”

Steve met his gaze, his voice unwavering. “I’ll never let anything happen to my family. Not now, not ever.”

Danny swallowed hard, his emotions swirling, threatening to overwhelm him. But he pushed it all down, forcing himself to focus. He nodded, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Steve reached out, his hand firm as it squeezed Danny’s shoulder, grounding him. “We’ll make it through this, Danny,” he said, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

Danny’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, though his eyes remained stormy. “Yeah,” he replied softly.

Danny paced the room like a caged lion, his hands clenched at his sides, his face pale and drawn. Every minute that ticked by felt like an eternity, each second stretching out painfully as he waited for the call from Junior or Tani. His heart raced, his stomach twisted into knots, and his mind played out every possible worst-case scenario, each one more horrifying than the last.

Steve sat nearby, his laptop open, tracking the situation as best he could. He kept his eyes on Danny, the tension in the room palpable. “Danny,” he said quietly, his voice calm but firm, “you need to
breathe.”

“I’m breathing!” Danny snapped, though his chest felt like it was constricted, each breath shallow and shaky. “Don’t tell me to breathe, Steve. My son is out there with goddamn strangers watching him!”

Steve stood and walked over to him, his presence steadying even though Danny was too caught up in his worry to acknowledge it. “Junior and Tani will be there soon,” Steve said, his tone even. “They know what they’re doing, and Charlie’s smart. He’s following your instructions.”

Danny stopped pacing, his hands running through his hair as he turned to Steve, his voice breaking. “But what if it’s not enough, Steve? What if… what if they—” He couldn’t even finish the sentence, the thought too unbearable to speak aloud. The mere idea of Charlie being in danger, being used as leverage against him, was enough to make his whole body tense with fear.

Steve’s hands came up, resting firmly on Danny’s shoulders. His grip was steady, grounding, the kind of unwavering support Danny desperately needed at that moment. “Hey,” Steve said, his voice low but intense, pulling Danny’s frantic gaze to his own. “Look at me. Charlie is safe right now. Tani and Junior are on their way. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

Danny let out a harsh breath, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “You can’t promise that, Steve. You can’t promise me that nothing will happen to him.” His voice wavered, thick with emotion, his fear threatening to consume him whole.

Steve’s jaw tightened, his grip on Danny’s shoulders remaining firm but not forceful. “No, I can’t.” His voice was quieter now, but still unwavering, filled with something solid and unshakable. “But what I can promise is that I’m not going to let you face this alone. This Makani—he doesn’t get to win. He doesn’t get to threaten our family like this. Not Charlie. Not Joanie. Not Mary.” His fingers unconsciously tightened on Danny’s arms as he added in a near whisper, “Not anymore.”

Danny’s throat worked as he tried to swallow the lump forming there. He looked away, blinking rapidly, his breath hitching as he tried to suppress the raw emotions threatening to spill over. His mind was screaming at him to stay strong, to focus on the next step, to do something, but all he could think about was Charlie, scared and alone on the other side of the country.

“I can’t lose him, Steve.” His voice cracked, his shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of those words. He wasn’t just saying it—he was pleading. His worst fear had always been losing one of his kids. And now, someone had put a target on Charlie.

“You won’t.” Steve’s words were absolute, solid, and sure. The kind of sure that Danny desperately wanted to believe in.

The intensity of Steve’s conviction struck something deep inside Danny, shaking loose something fragile and frayed within him. For a moment, he let himself lean into it, into Steve, into the one person who had always been able to keep him grounded no matter what hell they were walking through. His hands slowly dropped to his sides, his body slumping just slightly as he took a deep, shuddering
breath. Then, without thinking, he let his head fall forward, resting lightly against Steve’s chest.

Steve tensed for only a second before his arms shifted instinctively, one hand resting lightly against Danny’s back, his fingers pressing just enough to reassure, to hold. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t have to. The gesture alone said it all.

“Half an hour,” Danny muttered, his voice barely audible. “It’s been half an hour. The longest goddamn half hour of my life.”

“I know,” Steve murmured, his voice as steady as his hand, the warmth of his touch offering something solid in the middle of the storm. “But they’ll call soon.”

Danny nodded against him, though the fear in his eyes didn’t ease. He exhaled shakily, forcing himself to straighten, stepping back, though Steve’s presence still felt like an anchor. His feet started moving again, pacing the room, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The waiting was unbearable, the silence suffocating.

Then, suddenly, Danny’s phone buzzed, the sound slicing through the tension like a blade. Both men froze for a split second before Danny lunged for it, his fingers fumbling slightly as he answered.

“Junior?” His voice was taut with both hope and fear.

Junior’s voice came through the line, steady but urgent. “Yeah, it’s me. We just got here.”

Danny’s breath hitched, his grip tightening on the phone. “And? What’s going on? Where’s Charlie?”

“He’s inside,” Junior assured him quickly. “Did everything you told him. House was locked up, alarm was on. Tani’s checking the perimeter now.”

Danny exhaled sharply, some of the crushing weight lifting off his chest. But his pulse was still racing, his whole body tense. “And the guys outside?” His voice was clipped, bracing for the worst.

“That’s the thing,” Junior said, his voice lowering slightly. “They’re gone.”

Danny’s stomach twisted sharply. “What do you mean, gone? They were there thirty minutes ago!”

“I know,” Junior replied. “But when we pulled up, there was no sign of them. Tani did a quick sweep—nothing. No car, no trace. It’s like they just disappeared.”

Danny turned sharply toward Steve, eyes wide, his free hand clenching into a fist. Steve met his gaze, and in an instant, they both knew—this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

“Danny,” Junior continued, his voice carrying an edge of unease, “we checked the cameras. There was a car parked down the street earlier, same one Charlie spotted near the school. Two guys, both sitting inside, watching the house. Then, just before we got here, they took off.”

Danny ran a hand down his face, his entire body vibrating with barely contained tension. His breathing was uneven, his heartbeat hammering relentlessly in his chest. “So what, they got spooked?” he asked, his voice sharp with barely restrained panic.

“I don’t know,” Junior admitted. “But I don’t like it. This wasn’t random, man. They were watching for a reason.”

Steve, who had been standing tensely by his side, stepped closer, his body radiating a cold, focused intensity. His mind was already working ten steps ahead, analyzing every possible angle, every potential threat.

“Can you send us the footage?” Danny asked, his voice clipped, his grip on the phone so tight his knuckles turned white.

“Already on it,” Junior confirmed. “Sending it to you now.”

Danny barely acknowledged the answer, his fingers pressing into the phone as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. His voice dropped a fraction as he forced himself to ask the most important question. “And Charlie? How is he?”

Junior’s tone softened just slightly, but the underlying concern remained. “He’s good. Shaken, but holding it together. He wanted to talk to you.”

Danny let out a breath that barely made it past the knot in his throat. “Put him on.”

There was a rustle on the line, and then, after a beat, Charlie’s voice came through, small but strong. “Dad?”

Danny swallowed hard, his free hand coming up to rub at his temple. “Hey, buddy. You okay?” He tried to keep his voice steady, to sound reassuring, but the tremor in it was undeniable.

There was a pause. A silence that stretched just a little too long before Charlie finally answered. “Yeah… I think so.”

Danny closed his eyes for a brief second, grounding himself. “You did everything right, okay? You were smart. You stayed safe. I’m proud of you, Charlie.”

Charlie’s voice wavered, barely noticeable, but Danny heard it. “I was scared.”

Danny exhaled slowly, forcing his breath to even out. “I know, buddy. Me too. But you’re safe now. And we’re gonna figure this out.” His voice was firm, but the words felt hollow against the fear gripping his chest.

Another pause, shorter this time. Then, Charlie’s voice returned, laced with uncertainty. “Dad… was that really Uncle Steve I heard earlier?”

Danny’s throat tightened. He turned slightly, his gaze meeting Steve’s, who was watching him carefully, waiting.

“Yeah,” Danny said softly, a quiet admission that carried more weight than he expected. “It was.”

A beat of silence.

Then, “Is he back?”

Danny’s chest ached. He had no idea how to answer that, had no idea what “back” even meant anymore. He let out a slow, controlled breath, his grip on the phone loosening just slightly.

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted, voice rough around the edges. “But he’s here.”

Charlie didn’t respond immediately, and Danny could almost hear the gears turning in his son’s head, processing, debating, trying to piece together the same puzzle Danny had been struggling with for days.

Finally, Charlie exhaled. “Okay.”

Danny nodded, even though Charlie couldn’t see him. “Listen, Junior and Tani are there now. I need you to stay with them, okay? No matter what, you stay with them.” His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.

“Yeah. I got it.”

“Good.” Danny hesitated for a fraction of a second before adding, “I’ll call your mom so she knows where to find you, alright?”

“Okay.”

Danny swallowed against the thick lump forming in his throat. “I’ll call you soon.” His voice softened at the end, dropping to something more personal, more fragile. “Danno loves you.”

Charlie’s voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “Love you, Dad.”

The line went dead.

Danny lowered the phone slowly, his fingers still clenched around it like a lifeline. He stayed frozen for a second, his whole body taut, before finally, his shoulders sagged slightly. His breath was unsteady, and the lingering adrenaline made his hands tremble.

Steve watched him carefully, giving him a beat before speaking. “He’s alright?”

Danny nodded stiffly, his throat too tight to speak for a second. Finally, he forced the words out. “For now.”

But the weight of everything still hung in the air. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Danny turned to Steve, his expression shifting, hardening. “But this isn’t over.”

Steve’s jaw clenched, his muscles tightening in that familiar way that meant he was already planning, already working out the next steps in his head. “No. It’s not.”

Danny inhaled deeply, forcing himself to steady his breathing. “We need to find out who these guys are. And fast.”

Steve nodded, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Then let’s get to work.”

-

Chapter 20: 20

Danny pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to steady his thoughts. “Okay, we knew that Makani flew to Newark. Now we know that he knows we’re in Montana... but Montana is big. He must not know exactly where we are.”

Steve exhaled sharply, his mind racing through the possibilities. “Agreed. If he did, he wouldn’t be playing these games—he’d already be here. He’s using Charlie as leverage because he knows Mary and Joanie are with you, but he’s still looking. He’s testing the waters, waiting for you to make a move.”

Danny gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling just beneath his skin. “Yeah, well, I’m done waiting for him to make the next move. We have to get ahead of this, Steve.”

The sharp vibration of Danny’s phone made both men flinch. His pulse spiked as he yanked it from his pocket, glancing at the screen. A text from Junior.

Footage sent.

We’re locking down Charlie’s location for now. You need anything, say the word.

Danny held up his phone for Steve to see. “The footage is in.”

Steve nodded, already pulling his laptop onto the table and clicking open the files. Danny sat beside him, his hands clenched into fists as the first video feed loaded.

The grainy footage showed the front of Charlie’s school. A black SUV idled across the street, its windows tinted, two figures inside. The driver’s face was obscured, and the man in the passenger seat
barely visible, but their posture spoke volumes. They weren’t blending in. They weren’t trying to be discreet.

Danny’s breath hitched. “They wanted Charlie to see them.” His jaw tightened as a sickening realization settled over him. “They were sending a message.”

Steve’s expression darkened as he clicked to the next clip. Now the SUV was near Charlie’s basketball practice. Same car. Same men.

Danny exhaled sharply, his nails digging into his palm. “They were following him all day.”

Steve didn’t respond immediately. He moved to the next clip—this one from outside Charlie’s house. The same black SUV, this time parked farther down the block. The two men were standing outside of it now, their backs turned to the camera, but their posture screamed watching. Waiting.

Seconds before Junior and Tani’s car appeared in the frame, the two men turned, got back in, and drove away.

Danny let out a harsh breath, his whole body vibrating with tension. “They were right there. Right outside my kid’s house.”

Steve’s voice was low and controlled, but there was steel beneath it. “And now they’re gone.”

Danny shook his head, his mind racing. “They must’ve known Junior and Tani were coming. Or maybe they were testing the response time. Seeing who shows up, how long it takes.”

Steve nodded, already shifting into strategy mode. “Either way, they’re planning something.”

Danny exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “We have to move fast. Get ahead of them before they figure it out.”

Steve's fingers hovered over the laptop keyboard, his mind racing. “We know Makani flew to Newark. Now he claims he knows we’re in Montana, which means either he or some of his men are already here or on their way.” His voice was calm, controlled, but there was a sharp edge beneath it—one Danny recognized all too well. It was the voice Steve used when he was already two steps ahead, piecing together the next move.

Danny shook his head, jaw tight. “How the hell did he figure that out so fast? We’ve been careful.”

Steve’s eyes flicked up from the screen. “Careful isn’t invisible, Danny. He has resources. Money. Connections. And we don’t know how long he’s actually known.”

Danny’s stomach twisted. “What if he’s been onto us longer than we think?”

Steve’s expression darkened. “Then he’s already ahead of us.” He tapped a few more keys, pulling up flight manifests from Newark to Montana. “If he or his men flew commercial, there’ll be a record. If
they didn’t, we have to assume they took a private flight or drove in.”

Danny ran a hand over his face, trying to suppress the urge to slam his fist against something. “We need confirmation. We need to know how close they are.”

Steve nodded. “Agreed. And fast. If they’re already here, we don’t have time to wait around.” His fingers moved quickly, cross-referencing any names they had against flight logs and vehicle rental reports.

Danny glanced at his phone, willing it to ring with an update from Junior or Tani. “I don’t like this, Steve. We’re sitting ducks out here, and Charlie—” His voice caught, and he swallowed hard. “If
Makani was bluffing, he wouldn’t have mentioned my kid. He’s making a move, we just don’t know what it is yet.”

Steve exhaled sharply, locking eyes with Danny. “Then we make our move first.”

Danny nodded, pressing his palm against the table to steady himself. "We knew this was coming. We knew he wouldn’t just back off." His voice was low, tight. "But using my kid? That changes everything."

Steve’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists. "He crossed a line. And I don’t let people get away with that, Danny. Ever."

Danny let out a slow, measured breath, his mind racing through possibilities. "Okay. We need to know exactly where he is and how many men he brought with him. If he’s close, we have to move fast."

Steve nodded, his eyes burning with determination. "Then let’s find him before he finds us."

The rest of the day blurred into a cycle of tense phone calls, long stretches of silence filled only by the rapid clicks of Steve’s typing, and the occasional sharp exhale from Danny as he processed the information coming in. The easy camaraderie of the morning had long faded, replaced by the quiet hum of barely restrained urgency.

Danny had called Rachel the moment he had the chance. The conversation had gone about as well as he’d expected—which was to say, not well at all.

She had been blindsided. Furious. Scared. The moment she heard the words "Charlie might be in danger," she had gone from dismissive to razor-focused. Danny had expected anger, expected Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why are you only calling me now? What the hell is happening, Danny?

And yeah, he’d gotten all of that.

But beneath it, under all the frustration and panic, there had been something else. Something softer. Fear.

Fear for Charlie.

She had fought him at first, insisted she could handle things herself, that he was overreacting. But then Danny had told her about the SUV. About the men following Charlie from school to practice.

About them standing outside their house.

And Rachel had gone silent.

After that, she hadn’t argued anymore. She’d just listened as Danny laid out exactly what she needed to do.

Now, she and Charlie were safe, locked down in a secure location with Junior and Tani watching over them. But Danny knew better than to let his guard down. Makani had made his move. And he wasn’t the kind of man who gave up easily.

The tension in the house was palpable, and even Joanie—who normally had the boundless energy of a kid fueled by pure joy—seemed to sense it. She didn’t ask questions, didn’t push. Instead, she just existed in their space, watching quietly as Danny and Steve worked.

At one point, without a word, she shuffled over to Danny where he sat hunched over the table, staring at the grainy footage of the SUV outside Charlie’s school. She didn’t say anything, didn’t ask what was wrong. She just climbed into his lap, wrapped her little arms around his neck, and squeezed.

Danny closed his eyes for a second, inhaling deeply, grounding himself.

“Hey, munchkin,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You doin’ okay?”

She nodded against his shoulder. “You?”

Danny let out a quiet, shaky laugh. “Yeah, baby. I’m okay.” He wasn’t, not really, but Joanie didn’t need to carry that.

She stayed there for a few more moments before slipping off his lap and making her way to Steve, who was perched at the edge of the couch, eyes glued to his laptop screen. She stopped beside him, her small hands pressing into his arm as she tilted her head up at him expectantly.

Steve blinked, startled out of his focus. “What’s up, Jojo?”

She didn’t say anything—just reached up, wrapping her little arms around his waist as best she could.

Steve hesitated for only a second before he melted, one arm looping around her tiny frame as he leaned down to press his forehead gently against hers. His voice was softer than Danny had heard in days.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

She nodded like she understood, then patted his chest with her small hand before returning to Mary, who had been watching silently from the doorway.

Mary met Danny’s gaze across the room, her expression unreadable. Then she just nodded and said, “Dinner’s in the oven.”

Even in the middle of all of this, she was looking out for them.

The rest of the day was spent in a flurry of calls, video analysis, and tense discussions with Junior and Tani. It wasn’t pretty.

Makani wasn’t sloppy. He was careful. There were no registered flights under his real name, no easy way to track his movements. But Steve had pulled every favor he had left with his old military contacts, and something had finally broken their way—a private jet.

A plane had landed at a small airstrip just outside of Bozeman two nights ago. It had no official passenger list, no flight plan filed beyond the bare minimum. But according to a security log Steve had managed to access, a few men matching the description of the guys who had been watching Charlie’s house had disembarked.

Which meant Makani’s people were already here. Maybe Makani too.

Danny felt his pulse spike, his grip tightening on the edge of the table. His mind was already racing through worst-case scenarios, through every possible angle. “So they’re close.”

Steve nodded grimly, his jaw tight. “Yeah. And they’re not just watching anymore. They’re making their move.”

Danny exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling as he tried to contain the storm inside him. He could feel the pressure in his ribs, the weight of the past twenty-four hours settling deep into his bones. The waiting game was over.

He straightened, rolling his shoulders, his voice steady and sure. “Then we make ours first.”

Steve met his gaze, something sharp and unwavering passing between them. A silent agreement, a shift in the air.

The game was on.

And they were done playing defense.

The day passed in a blur of research, calls, and strategy. Danny and Steve worked side by side, their usual bickering present but subdued, their focus sharpened by the urgency of the situation. They
pulled every resource they had left—contacts from their time in Five-0, old allies, even unofficial channels. Every lead was chased down, every name cross-referenced. They worked like they had before, falling into their rhythm effortlessly, their worry and frustration fueling them.

Tani and Junior fed them information from Oahu, piecing together Makani’s movements, trying to track financial records and digital footprints. Lou checked in, running what strings he could from Chicago, keeping an eye on any chatter that could point toward Makani’s larger network. Quinn had even reached out to old military contacts, scanning for any signs of the man using black market routes or offshore accounts.

The picture was becoming clearer. The men who had arrived in Montana had ties to Makani’s past dealings—some with mercenary backgrounds, others with criminal records that linked back to human trafficking rings and arms dealing. Makani had money, resources, and a network of dangerous people willing to do his bidding.

But what they didn’t have was Makani himself.

“We’re missing something,” Steve muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face as he leaned over the laptop. “These guys aren’t just watching anymore—they’re here. They’ve been here. But where the hell is he?”

Danny paced, phone still in his grip, fingers twitching with restless energy. “He knows we’re here. Maybe not exactly, but close enough. He wouldn’t have sent his guys if he wasn’t planning something.”

Steve exhaled sharply. “Which means he’s waiting for the right moment to strike.”

Danny’s jaw clenched. “Well, he’s not gonna get the chance.”

The tension between them was thick, the weight of their worry stretching the air tight around them. The hours bled together, one call after another, one dead end after another. But the drive to keep going, to get ahead, was stronger than their exhaustion.

It was nearing midnight when Danny finally allowed himself to sit back, rubbing his eyes. The house was eerily quiet now. Joanie and Mary had long since fallen asleep, exhaustion taking them under despite the heavy air in the house. The fireplace crackled faintly, the warmth contrasting against the chill outside.

Then, something flickered at the edge of his vision.

A light. Just a glimpse. A movement, too quick, too distant, but enough to set every nerve on edge.

He frowned, straightening, convincing himself that maybe it was nothing—just his overtired mind playing tricks. They were in the middle of nowhere, after all.

But instinct had never failed him before.

Slowly, Danny stood, his body tense as he moved toward the window, peering outside. The darkness stretched endlessly, broken only by the pale glow of the moon reflecting off the snow. For a long moment, there was nothing.

Then a shadow shifted.

His pulse spiked.

His gut twisted, the kind of twist that told him he wasn’t wrong. Someone was out there.

He turned sharply. “Steve.”

Steve was already on his feet, already reaching for his gun. “What?”

Danny’s voice was low, urgent. “I saw something. Outside.”

Steve didn’t hesitate. He moved toward the door, checking the locks, his body coiled with tension. Danny grabbed his own weapon, his grip steady despite the storm brewing inside him.

They stepped onto the porch, the cold biting against their skin, their breath visible in the night air. The silence was too perfect, too deliberate.

The silence stretched thick in the cold night air, the kind that only came before a storm. Danny and Steve stood at the porch’s edge, bodies coiled, guns in hand, scanning the darkness for the presence they both knew was there.

Then, a voice cut through the stillness.

Smooth. Controlled. Confident.

“Detective Williams,” Makani called out from the shadows. “Commander McGarrett. I was wondering when you’d come out to say hello.”

Danny’s grip on his gun tightened at the sound of that voice, his blood running cold. He took a step forward, eyes locked on the figure emerging from the darkness. “Makani,” he bit out, his voice sharp with anger. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t keep hiding like a coward.”

Makani chuckled, stepping closer, his men still lingering in the cover of the trees. “Hiding? No, no, Danny. I’ve been waiting. Watching. And I have to say… Montana? Unexpected. But a nice touch.”

Danny’s stomach twisted. He didn’t like the way Makani said that—like he knew more than he should. Like he had figured out exactly where they were, and he had been waiting for this moment.

“You want something, or you just come out here to hear yourself talk?” Steve interjected, his voice edged with steel.

Makani smirked, turning his gaze to Steve, assessing him like a predator sizing up his prey. “Ah, the ghost returns,” he mused. “McGarrett, I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting you to be here. Thought
you’d still be off playing soldier in whatever godforsaken place you ran to.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. He didn’t have to—his presence alone was enough of a statement.

Danny took a step forward, shoulders squared. “You came all this way for your daughter, didn’t you?” he pressed, his tone laced with disgust. “You sent men after my kid, threatened my family, and
now you’re standing here acting like you’ve got the upper hand.”

Makani spread his hands in mock innocence. “You make it sound so personal, Detective. But I suppose it is, isn’t it?” His smile faded slightly, replaced with something colder. “You took something from me. I’m here to take it back.”

Danny scoffed. “You mean the daughter who doesn’t want anything to do with you? The one you want to drag back into whatever twisted mess you call a life?” His voice dropped, venom lacing every syllable. “She’s not yours anymore, Makani. She never was.”

Makani’s expression darkened. “She’s my blood.”

“Blood doesn’t make you a father,” Danny shot back. “It just makes you a biological mistake.”

Makani’s face twitched at that, but his voice remained dangerously calm. “You think you can protect her? You think you can keep me from what’s mine?”

Steve stepped in then, voice low and unwavering. “You come near her again, and I will personally make sure you regret it.”

Makani’s lips curled, something predatory flashing in his eyes. “Big words from a man who vanished off the face of the earth for three years. Do you really think you’re still the same unstoppable force you once were, McGarrett?”

Steve didn’t flinch. “Try me.”

For a moment, the air was thick with tension, neither side moving, neither willing to back down.

Then Makani’s smirk returned, slow and calculated. “Well,” he sighed, “I suppose we’ve talked enough.”

The gunfire started before Danny could process the words.

A crack split the night as a bullet whizzed past his ear, and instinct took over. He dove for cover as Steve fired back, both of them moving in perfect sync, their years of partnership kicking in like muscle memory.

Makani’s men swarmed forward, gunfire ringing out in sharp bursts, cutting through the quiet Montana night. Danny and Steve moved as one, their backs pressed together, covering each other’s blind spots like they’d done a hundred times before.

Danny took out one of the men flanking them, his body moving on autopilot. “Son of a bitch brought the fight to us,” he muttered, ducking behind a stack of firewood as bullets splintered against the wood.

Steve reloaded smoothly, his voice calm despite the chaos. “Good. Saves us the trouble of looking for him.”

They fought hard, every shot precise, every movement calculated. Steve dropped two more, Danny another, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm.

But then—Makani was gone.

Danny barely had time to register it before his stomach twisted with instinct.

A shadow. A gun raised. Aimed at him.

-

Chapter 21: 21

A shadow. A gun raised. Aimed at him.

Steve had already seen it. Without hesitation, he moved.

He shoved Danny aside just as the gun fired.

The impact was immediate, the sound of the shot echoing through the night.

Steve’s body jerked, momentum carrying him forward, colliding into Danny as they both went down. Danny barely registered the way his knees hit the snow, barely felt anything but the sheer force of Steve slamming into him.

Then he saw the blood.

Bright, vivid against the pale backdrop.

The red blossomed over Steve’s stomach, spreading fast.

Danny’s mind blanked for a split second, the world narrowing down to the sight of Steve’s body hitting the ground, unmoving.

And then, everything snapped.

Danny spun, his gun already raised, his finger squeezing the trigger before he could think.

The man who had shot Steve went down instantly, his body crumpling into the snow.

Danny barely registered it. Barely cared. His weapon clattered to the ground as he turned back, heart in his throat.

“Steve—” His voice cracked, raw with panic.

Steve lay on his back, his breathing shallow, his face twisted in pain, his hand pressing against the wound.

Danny dropped beside him, his hands immediately moving to cover Steve’s, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to do something.

“Hey—hey, stay with me, okay?” His voice was shaking, his vision blurring. “You’re gonna be fine, Steve, just—just stay with me.”

Steve’s lips parted, but no words came, just a faint, ragged breath.

Panic clawed at Danny’s chest.

Danny pressed down harder, his hands shaking, the warmth of Steve’s blood seeping through his fingers like sand slipping away—too fast, too much. His heart pounded so violently he could barely hear over it, barely think past the sheer terror clawing up his throat.

"Come on, come on, Steve," Danny muttered, voice breaking, his breath ragged. "Stay with me, you stubborn son of a bitch. This is nothing, you hear me? You’ve been through worse. Hell, you’ve survived explosions, torture, being thrown off a goddamn bridge—this? This is a scratch."

His words trembled under the weight of panic, cracking around the edges as Steve’s breath came shallow and uneven beneath him. His face, usually so strong, so damn solid, was pale now, too pale, and Danny could feel him slipping, the fight draining from his body with every pulse of red staining the snow beneath them.

"Don’t you dare," Danny ground out, his fingers digging into Steve’s shirt, his grip tightening as if he could physically anchor him there. "Don’t you fucking dare, McGarrett."

Steve’s eyelids fluttered, his head tilting toward Danny, but his eyes weren’t fully open, weren’t there . His lips parted slightly, a whisper of something Danny barely caught.
"Check... perim..."

Danny closed his eyes for half a second, swallowing hard. Of course. Even bleeding out, Steve was thinking about the perimeter. About the goddamn mission. About keeping them safe. Always them, never himself.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Danny choked out, his voice thick. "But right now, I’m checking on you , alright?"

Steve twitched slightly, a weak attempt at protest, but Danny wasn’t letting go. Wasn’t letting him go.

A sound—distant, muffled, like a heartbeat under water—rushed through his ears, and for a split second, Danny swore he could feel it, feel that moment three years ago when everything shattered.

When Steve left, and Danny had spent every goddamn night since trying to silence the ache, convincing himself that missing him would fade, that it would stop .

But it never did.

And now, now he was here again, holding onto Steve, fighting to keep him breathing, to keep him alive , and all Danny could think about was how this wasn’t how they were supposed to end.

"Goddamn it, Steve," Danny whispered, pressing his forehead against Steve’s for the briefest second, barely breathing. "You can’t—" His voice broke.

"You just fucking came back to me."

Steve’s hand twitched against Danny’s wrist, barely there, like he was trying, like he wanted to hold on but just couldn’t.

Danny snapped back up, yanking his phone out, his blood-slicked fingers fumbling against the screen. It rang once. Twice.

"Come on, come on," he muttered, his pulse a frantic drumbeat against his ribs.

"Danny?" Junior’s voice was sharp, immediate.

Danny could barely push the words past his throat. "We got ambushed. Steve’s down. I need a medevac now ."

Silence, then a sharp inhale from Junior. " How bad? "

Danny pressed harder against Steve’s wound, making him suck in a sharp breath, his face contorting in pain. "Bad," Danny admitted, voice wrecked. "Stomach wound. Bleeding too much."

"Shit," Junior hissed. "I’ll get someone in the air. ETA?"

Danny’s vision blurred for a second, his brain sluggish under the weight of panic. "We’re still at the ranch. Closest hospital’s Bozeman, but he won’t—" Danny swallowed hard, "—he won’t make it that far without help."

"Okay," Junior’s voice was clipped, controlled. "I’ll reroute the team. Hold tight."

The call cut off, and Danny threw the phone aside, refocusing on Steve. His breaths were coming shorter now, his body trembling under Danny’s grip. His skin was too cold .

Danny squeezed Steve’s hand, pressing their fingers together, grounding, anchoring. " Hey ," Danny whispered fiercely. "No. You stay with me. You hear me? You keep those goddamn eyes open,
McGarrett."

Steve’s lips curled, just barely, the ghost of a smirk. " Bossy ," he murmured, so faint Danny almost missed it.

Danny let out a choked, breathless laugh that tasted like fear. " Yeah , well, someone’s gotta keep you in line."

Steve’s lashes fluttered, his body tensing. The blood—Jesus, the blood —wasn’t stopping. Danny felt a sob claw up his throat, threatening to spill out, but he shoved it down. He couldn’t break. Not
now.

Then the door of the ranch slammed open.

Danny barely turned before Mary was there, dropping to her knees beside them, her face pale, eyes wide and scared .

"Oh my God—Steve—" Her hands hovered over him, shaking. "What—what happened?!"

"Later," Danny snapped, his voice too raw, too sharp. "I need towels. Now ."

Mary bolted, disappearing back inside. Danny turned back to Steve, brushing damp hair from his forehead. "Come on, man," he whispered. " Come on ."

Steve’s eyes barely opened, just slits of blue, but they focused on him this time, and the way he looked at Danny—so much trust, so much goddamn love —it nearly shattered him.

Danny swallowed hard, his voice shaking. "You hold on, okay?"

Steve blinked once. Slow. Heavy.

Danny exhaled sharply. " You hold on ."

Steve’s fingers twitched against his, the smallest squeeze.

And Danny broke .He had to keep Steve alive .

The helicopter couldn’t come fast enough.

Danny kept his hands pressed against Steve’s wound, blood soaking through his fingers, hot and relentless. His breaths came in short, ragged bursts, his throat so tight it felt like he was suffocating.
Steve’s body was too still beneath him, too cold, his breaths weak and shallow.

Mary came running back with towels, pressing them down hard against Steve’s stomach. She was crying—silent, terrified tears that streaked down her face—but her hands didn’t shake. Not when she looked at Danny, not when she met his eyes with a resolve that matched his own.

"He’s gonna be okay," she said, her voice rough but determined, like if she said it enough, it would make it true. "He has to be okay."

Danny swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice wrecked. "Yeah."

Steve let out a sharp, choked breath, his body arching slightly under the pain before he went lax again. His lashes fluttered, barely managing to keep his eyes open.

Danny leaned in closer, his hand wrapping around Steve’s blood-slicked fingers. "Hey, stay with me, babe, okay? You stay with me."

Steve’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Danny clenched his jaw so hard it hurt.

"Don’t you fucking do this ," Danny whispered, his voice breaking. "You just came back. You just —" His throat closed up, the words choking on the fear tearing through his chest. "I need you, Steve. You hear me?"

Steve’s fingers twitched weakly against his, his eyes barely open now, his breath so faint that Danny almost didn’t feel it.

Danny shook his head violently, gripping Steve’s hand tighter. "No, no, no— Steve! "

Steve's lips parted, barely a whisper. " Danno... "

Danny let out a ragged, broken breath, pressing his forehead against Steve’s. " I’m here, " he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. " I’m right here, babe. You gotta hold on for me, okay? Just a
little longer, Steve. Just hold on. "

Steve's hand twitched again, his grip weak, his body trembling against Danny’s.

And then—for one awful, terrifying second—Steve went completely limp.

Danny felt the world drop out from under him.

"STEVE—" His voice cracked, raw and desperate. He pressed his fingers against Steve’s neck, searching— begging —for a pulse. It was there. Barely.

Mary gasped, her hands covering her mouth as tears slipped down her face.

" No, " Danny said, his voice fierce, shaking, his fingers digging into Steve’s arm, refusing to let go. " No, you don't get to fucking leave me like this, Steve. You hear me? You fight, damn it! "

The distant sound of rotor blades cut through the night, but it barely registered.

Steve wasn’t moving.

Danny clenched his jaw, his entire body trembling as he leaned in, his lips brushing against Steve’s temple, his breath hot and shaky against his skin. " I love you, " he whispered. " You don’t get to leave me without knowing that, you stubborn animal ! "

A beat.

Then, the slightest squeeze of Steve’s hand.

Danny let out a broken sob, pressing his forehead against Steve’s again, his hands shaking violently as he whispered, " That’s it, babe, that’s it. Just stay with me. Stay with me. "

The helicopter was close now.

And Danny wasn’t letting go.The rotor blades whipped the freezing air into a frenzy, the deafening sound vibrating through Danny’s bones, but all he could hear was the ragged, shallow breaths leaving
Steve’s lips.

Too slow.

Too faint.

Too fucking close to stopping.

Danny’s grip on Steve’s hand tightened, his fingers shaking as he pressed his forehead against Steve’s damp, clammy skin. His other hand stayed firmly against the wound, but the blood kept coming,
slipping through his fingers like water, like time running out.

Steve’s lashes fluttered, his eyes barely open, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something.

"Don’t talk," Danny whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears. "Just—just stay with me. You hear me, babe? Just hold on. You hold on for me, okay?"

Steve made a sound—weak, barely there—but Danny caught it, felt the ghost of breath against his cheek.

"We just found each other again," Danny said, his voice cracking on the words. "You don’t get to leave me. You don’t fucking get to do this to me again, Steve."

His chest ached, his ribs felt like they were caving in, and his vision blurred as hot, unstoppable tears ran freely down his face. "I swear to God, if you die on me, I will—I will never forgive you. So you better fight, babe. You fight, or I swear, I’ll find a way to drag your stubborn ass back just so I can kill you myself."

Steve’s lips twitched, the smallest flicker of a smirk, but then his eyes rolled slightly, his body sagging further against Danny.

"No," Danny choked out, his grip tightening. "Steve, no, don’t you fucking go anywhere. You hear me? Just—just focus on me, babe, okay? Just keep listening to my voice."

Steve’s lips parted, but no sound came out. His eyes barely open, his gaze unfocused, but he was trying. He was trying to stay with him. Danny could see it, feel it in the weak, faltering grip of his fingers.

"You’re gonna be okay," Danny whispered, voice breaking, forehead nearly pressed against Steve’s. His tears dripped onto Steve’s skin, mixing with the blood already staining his face. "You have to be okay, Steve."

Steve’s breath hitched, barely there, and Danny panicked, pressing closer, murmuring anything, everything.

"You owe me, babe," Danny rasped, the words trembling as he fought to keep his voice steady. "You owe me three years, you hear me? Three goddamn years of my life you just up and took, so you don’t get to fucking leave me again. Not now. Not like this."

Steve’s fingers twitched again, just a little, but enough to send Danny into another spiral of desperate pleading. "Please, babe. We just—just got back to each other, okay? We just found this again, and
I—" His voice cracked, his entire body trembling from the weight of it all. "I can’t do this alone, Steve. I can’t—"

He pressed his lips against Steve’s temple, murmuring desperately, "We can fix this, babe. I swear. We can—we can go back. We can have all of it. You, me, the kids—we can have a life, Steve. A real one. You just gotta hold on for me, okay?".

"Please, babe," Danny whispered. "Please, please, just hold on."

The medics were suddenly there, a flurry of movement, prying Danny’s hands away, replacing them with gauze, with medical equipment, with trained hands and hurried voices shouting vitals.
"Sir, we need to get him on the stretcher now—"

Danny’s hands were covered in Steve’s blood, still warm, still too much, and he reached for him again, barely registering the firm grip of one of the medics stopping him.

"Wait—wait, just—" Danny lurched forward as they lifted Steve onto the stretcher, his hand reaching, grasping for any sign of life. His fingers found Steve’s hand—cold, limp, but there—and he held on
for dear life, pressing a desperate kiss to bruised knuckles.

"I’ll be right behind you, babe," Danny whispered, his voice breaking. "I swear it. We’re coming, you hear me? You hold on, you fight, because we’re right behind you."

Steve didn’t respond.

Didn’t squeeze his hand.

Didn’t open his eyes.

Danny’s breath hitched violently, his chest tightening with a pain so deep it was suffocating. The moment Steve's hand slipped from his grasp, it felt like something inside him cracked open, raw and
unbearable.

The medics moved quickly, loading Steve into the helicopter. The downdraft from the blades kicked up a storm of snow and dirt, stinging Danny’s eyes, but he didn’t move. He couldn't.

His body screamed at him to get on that chopper, to not let Steve out of his sight, but he forced himself to stay rooted where he was.

Because Steve wasn’t the only one he had to protect.

His mind was spinning, running on instinct and fear and gut-wrenching love, and he knew—fuck, he knew—if Makani was still out there, if this attack had been just the beginning, then Joanie and Mary
were still at risk.

His breath came out in sharp, ragged exhales as he turned his head, scanning the darkness, his entire body taut like a wire stretched too thin. "Fuck."

"Danny—" Mary’s voice barely cut through the storm inside him. She was holding Joanie tightly against her chest, the little girl’s face buried in her shoulder. Danny could see the way her small fingers
curled into Mary’s jacket, could feel the fear rolling off them both.

It slammed into him like a freight train.

Steve would never forgive him if he left them unprotected.

And neither would he.

His whole body screamed with the need to be at Steve’s side, to be there when—if—he woke up, but he swallowed hard and forced himself to focus.

"We’ll be right behind you, babe," Danny murmured again, his voice hoarse as he looked toward the helicopter, his last promise to Steve as the chopper lifted off, disappearing into the dark Montana
sky. "I swear it."

Danny stood frozen for a moment, staring at the dark sky where the helicopter had disappeared. His whole body felt numb, like he wasn’t even inside his own skin anymore.

Steve was gone. Taken. Bleeding out in the back of that chopper, fighting for every breath, because he—stupid, reckless, self-sacrificing Steve—had thrown himself in front of a bullet meant for Danny.

His hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. Makani was gone too, disappeared like a damn ghost into the darkness. And right now, Danny wanted nothing more than to hunt him down
and put a bullet straight between his eyes.

But all he could think about was Steve.

Steve, limp in his arms. Steve, choking on blood as Danny pressed down on the wound. Steve, eyes fluttering, barely holding on, whispering his name like it was the only thing anchoring him to this
world.

Danny sucked in a breath, squeezing his eyes shut. He needed to pull himself together. He needed to—

His hands. Oh, God. His hands were covered in blood. Steve’s blood.

Danny stumbled inside, his legs feeling like they weren’t even attached to him. He barely registered Mary’s pale, tear-streaked face as she sat curled on the couch, Joanie fast asleep in her lap. He
heard Mary say his name, soft and worried, but he couldn’t stop.

He barely made it to the sink before his stomach twisted violently. He gripped the edges of the counter, trying to hold back the wave of nausea, but it was no use. He braced himself and let it happen,
his body convulsing as he emptied the fear, the helplessness, the horror of it all.

By the time he was done, his breath was ragged, his limbs shaking. He turned the faucet on, hands trembling as he scrubbed at the blood, as if he could wash away the image of Steve crumpling in front of him. Steve’s blood should be in his body, not on Danny’s hands.

Not spilling onto the dirt.

Not soaking into Danny’s skin like some kind of cruel reminder that he might not—God, no, he couldn't—lose Steve again.

What if Steve didn’t make it to the hospital?

What if they couldn’t save him?

Danny squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing turning uneven again. He couldn’t think like that. He wouldn’t.

Steve was the toughest son of a bitch he knew. He had survived impossible odds before. He had come back from the brink more times than Danny could count.

But this had been bad.

Danny had felt it—how Steve's body had gone slack against him, how his pulse had fluttered beneath his fingers, weak and thready.

He pressed his hands against the counter, his head hanging between his shoulders.

A hand touched his shoulder, and Danny flinched, his eyes snapping open.

Mary.

She didn’t say anything, at first. She just squeezed his shoulder, her touch grounding.

Danny swallowed hard, nodding once. He needed to hold it together. He needed to keep moving.

“They’re gonna take care of him,” Mary said softly, her voice trembling. “He’s strong, Danny.”

Danny let out a shaky breath, forcing himself to straighten. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, he is.”

But even as he said it, doubt clawed at his chest.

Because this time…

This time, Danny wasn’t sure if even Steve could fight his way back.

Danny clenched his jaw, nodding once, trying to shove down the suffocating weight pressing against his chest. His hands curled into fists against the counter, nails digging into his palms, as if physical pain could pull him out of the spiral.

Steve’s alone right now. He needs you.

Mary’s voice cut through his haze, shaky but resolute. “We should go.”

Danny lifted his head, his expression torn. “Yeah, but…” He exhaled sharply, glancing toward the living room where Joanie sat curled up under a blanket, clutching her stuffed animals. “It’s dangerous
for you and Jo to get out there. Makani’s men could still be nearby, waiting for us to make a move.”

Mary stepped closer, her eyes wide and desperate. “It’s my brother, Danny. I can’t just stand here and wait. We need to go to him. We can’t let him be alone if he…” She sucked in a breath, her voice cracking. “Oh God.”

Danny flinched at the way her voice wavered, how her hands trembled as she clutched her arms. He knew exactly what she was thinking, because he was thinking it too. The possibility neither of them wanted to voice.

What if Steve doesn’t make it?

“Oh God,” she whispered again, her breathing uneven.

Danny reached out, gripping her arms gently but firmly. “Hey. Don’t go there. We can’t go there.” His voice was rough, thick with barely restrained emotion. “He’s still fighting, okay? We have to believe
that. We have to go to him believing that.”

Mary nodded jerkily, her breath hitching, and Danny squeezed her arms before letting go. He turned away, scrubbing a hand over his face.

They needed to move.

Danny inhaled sharply and straightened, rolling his shoulders like he could physically shake off the fear clawing at him. “Alright. We pack up, we go. But we do this carefully, understand? No unnecessary risks. We stick together.”

Mary wiped at her face, inhaling deeply. “Yeah. Okay.”

Danny forced himself to shift gears, moving into action. “I’ll get the car ready. Grab whatever you and Joanie need. We might not be coming back right away.”

Mary hesitated for only a moment before nodding and turning toward Joanie.

Danny took one last look at his hands, at the faint traces of blood still staining the edges of his nails. His stomach twisted violently, and he swallowed against the bile rising in his throat.

Then he grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

Because Steve needed him. And nothing—nothing—was going to stop him from getting to him.

Chapter 22: 22

Outside, the cold bit at Danny’s skin, but he barely felt it. His hands were shaking as he yanked open the car door, slamming it shut behind him as he sat down heavily in the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, the headlights cutting through the darkness, but Danny’s mind was already racing ahead—to the hospital, to Steve, to the fight he was still battling.

The fight Danny wasn’t sure he could win this time.

His fingers curled around the steering wheel, white-knuckled, as his chest heaved with uneven breaths. You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay.

A knock at the window startled him, and he looked up to see Mary standing there, Joanie bundled up in her arms, half-asleep but clutching Bunny and Snowy tightly. He reached across and unlocked the doors, watching as Mary slid into the passenger seat. She didn’t say anything—she didn’t need to. The worry in her eyes was enough.

Danny swallowed hard and pulled out onto the road.

The drive was long. Too long. Each minute stretched unbearably, and the silence was oppressive, filled with everything they weren’t saying.

Joanie whimpered softly in the backseat, shifting restlessly, and Mary turned to rub her back. “Shh, baby, it’s okay,” she whispered, though Danny knew she didn’t believe it herself.

Danny’s grip on the wheel tightened. He needed to hear something other than the quiet, other than the roaring in his own head. He needed to ground himself before his panic swallowed him whole.

So he did what he always did when he felt like he was losing control.

He started talking.

“He’s been through worse,” Danny said, his voice rough, like he’d been swallowing glass. “I mean, he’s Steve, right? Guy’s been shot, stabbed, blown up more times than I can count. Hell, he got out of North Korea with half his body broken and still made it back.”

Mary stared ahead, her jaw tight.

Danny exhaled through his nose. “He’s strong. He’s…” His voice cracked, and he blinked rapidly, gripping the wheel even harder. “He’s Steve.”
Mary let out a trembling breath. “Yeah,” she whispered.

Danny swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to focus on the road, on the stretch of highway leading them to the only thing that mattered right now.

They drove in silence after that.

The lights of the hospital loomed in the distance, cutting through the night like a beacon, and Danny felt his stomach clench painfully.

They were almost there.

And he had never been more terrified in his life.

Then his phone rang, shattering the silence in the car. Danny jolted slightly before fumbling for it, barely glancing at the screen before putting it on speaker. His hands were too unsteady, his throat too tight.

"Junior?"

"Yeah, Danny, how’s it going? How’s Steve?"

Danny swallowed hard, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping him together. His chest felt like it was caving in, and for a second, he couldn’t speak. He had to force the words out.

"Bad, June. We’re heading to the hospital now, but…" He sucked in a sharp breath, his knuckles turning white. The words he wanted to say—he might not make it—lodged in his throat like broken glass.

Instead, he forced out, "It was really bad."

A heavy silence stretched across the line.

Junior hesitated before saying, "He’s strong, Danny." But his voice wasn’t as sure as it usually was.

"Yeah." Danny’s reply was barely above a whisper. It was the only thing he could manage.

"I’ll keep an eye on Makani," Junior assured him, his tone shifting into something firmer. "If he makes a move, we’ll know."

Danny nodded, even though Junior couldn’t see him. "Thanks," he managed, voice flat, drained.

"We’ve got Charlie safe, Danny. Don’t worry about him, okay?"

Danny let out a slow, shaky breath. "Okay," he murmured. But he couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t worry. He couldn’t promise anything right now. He felt like he was barely holding himself together, like if he opened his mouth too wide, everything inside him would shatter.

The call ended, and the silence returned, heavier than before.

Mary sniffled softly, her arms wrapped around Joanie, who had finally drifted into a restless sleep.

They drove in silence after that.

The lights of the hospital loomed in the distance, piercing through the dark Montana night like a cruel beacon.

Danny’s stomach clenched painfully.

They were almost there.

And he had never been more terrified in his life.

The moment Danny slammed the car into park outside the hospital, he was moving before the engine even fully shut down. His pulse was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears, a deafening rhythm that made his vision blur at the edges. His legs felt numb, like he wasn’t even sure how they were carrying him forward, how he was even moving at all. His breath came in short, sharp bursts as he shoved through the hospital doors, his hands trembling so violently that when he reached out to push them open, he nearly missed the handle.

He didn’t remember pushing past people, didn’t even register the voices calling out for him to stop, to slow down. He barely saw the blur of faces around him, the bright white walls, the sterile smell of antiseptic that filled his nostrils. All he could focus on was getting to Steve.

Steve, who was bleeding out.

Steve, who had been alive—barely—when they loaded him into that helicopter.

Steve, who might not be anymore.

The thought sent a sharp wave of panic through him, and he pushed harder, faster. It wasn’t until a firm hand grabbed his arm, yanking him to a halt, that he snapped out of it, whipping around, wild, frantic, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Sir, you need to—"

"I need to see Steve McGarrett," Danny snapped, his voice raw, almost unrecognizable even to himself. He felt like his entire body was vibrating, like he was about to come apart at the seams. "Where is he? Where did they take him?"

The nurse in front of him hesitated, exchanging a glance with another at the desk. That hesitation sent ice through Danny’s veins. His stomach lurched.

No. No, don’t do this. Don’t look at each other like that. Just tell me he’s okay.

"Where the hell is he?!" he barked, stepping forward, barely keeping himself from grabbing the nurse’s scrubs in his fists.

"Danny—" Mary’s voice was behind him, a little breathless from catching up, her hands tight around Joanie, who was stirring in her arms.

"We need to see him," Mary said, calmer than Danny but no less urgent. "We’re his family."

Another glance was exchanged between the nurses. That was when Danny felt it. The shift. The weight in the air. The too-careful way they were looking at him. The way they weren’t speaking fast enough.

His stomach twisted, bile crawling up his throat.

"Why aren’t you saying anything?" His voice cracked, but he didn’t care.

"Sir—"

"Don't sir me—just tell me—"

The nurse hesitated again, and Danny lost what little was left of his control.

"I swear to God, if you don’t tell me what’s happening right now, I will tear this entire place apart!" His voice was ragged, too loud, his heart hammering against his ribs like a caged animal.

"Sir, please—"

Mary stepped forward, voice steadier, stronger. "I’m his sister. Mary McGarrett. And this is Danny." She turned to him, her eyes pleading with him to hold it together for just a second longer. "His partner."

Danny barely had time to process what she was doing, what she was giving him with that word before she turned back to the nurses, her voice firm. "Now tell us what’s going on."

A second nurse stepped forward, looking more composed, more trained to deal with men like him—frantic, breaking, running on nothing but fear and desperation.

"He’s still in surgery," she said gently, like that was supposed to help. Like it wasn’t the worst thing Danny could’ve heard.

His breath hitched in his chest, his fingers clenching into fists so tight his nails dug into his palms.

"For how long?"

"We don’t—"

"For how long?!"

She pressed her lips together before glancing at the clock on the far wall. "Over an hour now."

Danny turned away, his hands running through his hair as he started pacing.

An hour.

Steve had been on the table for over an hour. Still bleeding, still fighting. And all Danny could do was stand here and wait.

The thought made him feel physically ill.

His breathing grew unsteady, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He tried to sit down once, but he couldn’t stay still. His body thrummed with nervous energy, like a live wire sparking uncontrollably. The wait felt interminable, like it was swallowing him whole, suffocating him with every second that passed without an update.

Mary tried to talk to him once, but he barely heard her. His mind was a storm—circling worst-case scenarios, over and over again.

What if Steve didn’t make it off the table?

What if this was the last time he’d hear his voice?

What if he never got the chance to—

Danny forced his eyes shut, dragging in a ragged breath.

No. He could not go there.

But God, it was getting harder.

Joanie stirred in Mary’s arms, her small voice breaking through the suffocating silence.

"Uncle Danny?"

Danny looked up, his throat too tight to answer.

She reached for him, tiny arms outstretched. Without thinking, Danny stepped forward and took her from Mary, cradling her small body against his chest.

"Uncle Steve hurt ? " she whispered, her little fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt.

Danny swallowed, nodding against her hair. "Yeah, munchkin. He is."

She held onto him tighter. " S’strong."

Danny’s breath shuddered out of him, his hands gripping her tiny frame like she was the only thing keeping him together.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. "He is."

And God, he had to be.

Because Danny could not lose him now.

The minutes stretched on endlessly. The walls of the waiting room felt like they were closing in, the sterile smell of the hospital suffocating. Every time a doctor or nurse walked by, Danny’s heart stopped in his chest. But none of them came for him. None of them said anything.

Another stretch of time passed—more pacing, more silence, more waiting.

Then, finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the door at the end of the hallway opened. A doctor stepped out, his scrubs stained with blood.

Steve’s blood.

Danny’s blood ran cold.

He was on his feet before he even realized he had moved. Mary was right behind him.

The doctor pulled off his gloves, looking tired, looking grim.

Danny’s breath caught in his throat.

The words were coming.

And he wasn’t ready to hear them.

Danny felt the air leave his lungs before he even opened his mouth.

"There was significant blood loss," he said, careful, slow, like he was afraid if he said it too fast, Danny would shatter right there in the middle of the hospital. "The bullet punctured his stomach, and there were complications during surgery."

Danny swayed where he stood, suddenly lightheaded, barely hearing Mary’s sharp inhale beside him.

"What…what do you mean, complications?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The doctor hesitated, but he didn’t stop this time. "He flatlined. Twice."

Danny’s breath caught. His ears rang. His body locked up so tight he thought he might collapse.

"We managed to stabilize him for now, but…"

"But what?" Mary’s voice was tight, strangled.

"He hasn’t regained consciousness yet. And we don’t know if he will."

Danny’s world tilted.

The doctor hesitated, then nodded.

Danny sucked in a sharp breath.

Steve was alive.

Barely.

But he wasn’t here.

But he wasn’t here. Not really.

Not yet.

If he ever…

Danny squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. No. He couldn’t think like that. Not yet.

Not when Steve’s body was still warm, when his heart was still beating.

He turned on his heel. "Take me to him."

The doctor hesitated, but Danny didn’t give him room to stall.

"Take. Me. To. Him."

Mary’s hand curled around his arm, steadying him. He didn’t even realize he was shaking.

"Please," she added, softer.

Finally, he nodded. "Follow me."

Danny’s feet carried him forward before he even registered moving. His body felt disconnected, like he was watching himself from the outside.

Every step toward Steve’s room felt heavier, harder, like he was wading through quicksand.

And then they were there.

The doctor pushed open the door, and Danny stepped inside.

And the moment he saw him, everything inside of him broke, his breath punched out of his lungs like he’d been hit.

Steve looked small. Steve—who had always been larger than life, always so solid, so unshakable—was pale against the stark white sheets, his skin ashen, his body still. There were wires and tubes everywhere, a ventilator taped to his mouth, machines beeping quietly, the only sign that he was still alive.

Danny’s legs nearly gave out.

This wasn’t right. None of this was right.

He forced himself forward, step by agonizing step, his heart hammering against his ribs so hard it hurt. He reached the side of the bed, his fingers hovering above Steve’s arm, afraid to touch, afraid that somehow, Steve would be even colder than he already looked.

Danny sucked in a breath and finally, finally let his hand settle over Steve’s, gripping his wrist, feeling the weak, too-slow pulse beneath his fingers.

It was there.

But barely.

The machines keeping him alive hummed softly in the background, every beep a harsh reminder of how close he’d come to losing him.

Danny swallowed against the lump in his throat, his grip tightening.

“You weren’t supposed to do this,” he whispered, his voice cracking. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Steve’s arm, his whole body trembling. “You weren’t supposed to get shot. You weren’t supposed to leave me again.”

Steve, of course, didn’t answer.

Danny squeezed his eyes shut, willing back the burning behind them. He hadn’t cried, not really, not yet. But he could feel it coming, creeping up on him like a wave ready to drag him under.

A warm hand settled on his back.

Mary.

Danny barely registered her presence, but he leaned into the touch just a little, needing something to keep him from completely falling apart.

“I’ll give you a minute,” she murmured, squeezing his shoulder before stepping back.

Danny nodded, unable to speak.

He heard the door close behind her, but he didn’t move, just clung to Steve’s limp hand, rubbing his thumb over the too-cold skin.

It felt so wrong.

Steve had always been warm. Always full of energy, always moving, always alive. Even at rest, he had this presence about him—like the room tilted just a little in his direction.

But now, lying there, barely breathing, wires hooked up to his body like he was some fragile thing—this wasn’t Steve.

This was—

Danny sucked in a shaky breath, dragging his chair closer, his knees knocking against the side of the bed.

“Y’know,” he started, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I spent three goddamn years being pissed at you.” He let out a sharp, broken laugh. “Three years, Steve. Three years thinking about what I’d say to you if I ever saw you again.” His fingers curled tighter around Steve’s, as if holding on harder could somehow force him to stay. “And then I did see you again, and I still didn’t know what the hell to say.”

He exhaled shakily.

“I figured we had time. Thought we’d argue, we’d scream at each other, we’d…” His throat closed up, and he shook his head. “Thought I’d get to hate you a little longer before—before—”

His voice broke completely.

Before he lost him.

Danny let out a shuddering breath, pressing his forehead to their joined hands.

“I can’t—” His chest ached, his whole body tight. “Steve, I can’t do this again. You hear me? I can’t.”

The monitors kept beeping, Steve’s breath rasping through the ventilator.

No reaction.

No response.

Just silence.

Danny let the first tear fall.

And then another.

And then another.

He lifted his head slightly, his thumb brushing over Steve’s knuckles.

“You fought so hard, babe,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Fought your whole damn life.” He sniffed, shaking his head. “So don’t stop now, you hear me? Don’t—” He squeezed Steve’s hand desperately, trying to will him back. “You don’t get to stop now. You don’t get to do this to me again.”

Steve’s fingers remained limp in his grip.

Danny let out a ragged breath, pressing his lips to Steve’s knuckles, lingering there, eyes squeezed shut against the flood of emotions threatening to drag him down.

No response.

No flicker of movement.

Nothing.

Danny swallowed hard.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please, babe. I can’t—” His voice cracked again, and he choked on a sob. “I can’t do this without you.”

The monitors kept beeping.

The machines kept humming.

And Steve remained still.

He didn’t let go.

Didn’t move, except for the way his fingers brushed over Steve’s knuckles in slow, reverent strokes, as if memorizing the shape of them.

Steve’s hand was still warm, but it didn’t grip back.

And that was what terrified him most.

 

-

Chapter 23: 23

The next two days passed in a haze of exhaustion and fear, the hospital room eerily silent except for the steady beeping of the monitors. The rhythmic sound had become Danny’s lifeline, the only thing tethering him to reality, each faint pulse a fragile reassurance that Steve was still alive—barely.

Steve hadn’t woken up. Not once.

Not even a twitch of his fingers in Danny’s grip, not a flicker of those stubborn blue eyes that had always burned with determination. Just the cold, clinical confirmation from the doctors that he was still breathing, still fighting—but hanging by a thread. The bullet, the catastrophic blood loss, the sheer trauma to his body—it was too much. The damage had been worse than they’d hoped, and though the surgeons had done everything they could, it wasn’t enough to promise anything beyond survival in the moment.

And then last night—Oh God, last night.

Danny thought he was going to lose him.

The alarms had gone off, sharp and frantic, the steady beeping of the monitors replaced with an earsplitting shriek of warning. A swarm of nurses and doctors had flooded the room, voices overlapping in a blur of urgent commands. Danny had been right there, holding Steve’s limp hand, murmuring something—he didn’t even remember what—when Steve’s body had seized. A violent, shuddering convulsion before everything just—stopped.

The monitors had blared, his heartbeat spiking, flatlining before Danny could even process what was happening.

They shoved him out of the room.

Danny had fought. He had fought like hell, shouting, cursing, trying to push past the nurses, but they were stronger. His fists had connected with something—someone—but it hadn’t mattered. The last
thing he saw before the doors slammed shut was Steve’s motionless body, a chaos of hands and wires and desperate medical intervention between them.

Then, nothing.

He had stood outside for what felt like hours, fists clenched so tight his nails cut into his palms, his heart hammering, his breath shallow and uneven. He had refused to sit, refused to move, just stood there, arms crossed, his entire body rigid, his eyes locked on that goddamn door as if sheer willpower alone could keep Steve alive.

Mary sat behind him in the waiting area, silent tears streaking her face as she rocked Joanie in her arms. The little girl sobbed against her mother’s chest, exhausted and frightened, the sound like a knife twisting in Danny’s gut. He should have comforted them. Should have been a pillar for Mary, for Joanie. He should have been strong.

But he couldn’t.

He wasn’t even strong enough for himself.

And then—

Steve was alive.

Barely.

Danny had pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes when the doctor finally emerged, his expression drawn, his voice measured and calm as he explained that the surgery had been successful—Steve had lost too much blood, his body was too weak, but he was still here.

Danny had nearly collapsed under the weight of it. Relief so sharp it felt like pain, overwhelming and consuming, leaving him breathless and shaking. It was the closest he had ever come to breaking completely.

Now, almost three days later, Danny still hadn’t left the hospital.

He barely ate. Barely slept.

He just sat by Steve’s bedside, gripping his hand, watching, waiting for any flicker of movement, any sign that Steve was still in there, still fighting to come back.

Mary had tried to make him leave, twice.

Joanie had crawled into his lap, her small arms wrapping tightly around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest. "Uncle Danny, you tired," she whispered in that soft, sleepy voice.

Danny had pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispered that he was fine.

He wasn’t.

He hadn’t showered. Hadn’t changed clothes. His hands still shook when he reached for his coffee, the caffeine doing nothing to cut through the exhaustion settling deep in his bones.

And then—the messages started.

At first, Danny thought it was nothing.

His phone buzzed, a number he didn’t recognize.

Then another.

By the fourth one, he finally opened them.

And his blood turned to ice.

"Still not dead? Lame."

"I could come so easily."

"I waited long enough."

"Give me the girl, or your son is next."

Danny’s entire body had gone still.

Then—rage.

A deep, all-consuming, violent rage.

Makani was still out there. And he was still hunting Joanie. Still hunting Charlie.

Danny clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms, his entire body vibrating with barely restrained fury.

The bastard wasn’t done.

And Danny was about to make damn sure he never got the chance to try again.

-

Danny had never wanted to kill a man more than he wanted to kill Makani.

Not even Wo Fat. Not Reyes. Well, maybe the bastards who had hurt Grace—because that had been personal in a way that still festered, that still woke him up in the middle of the night, stomach
clenched, fists aching with the need to do more, be more. But this—this was different. This wasn’t just vengeance.

This was war.

This was something primal, a rage so deep it rattled in his chest, an instinct so fierce it overrode everything else. The kind of wrath that demanded action, that didn’t just simmer beneath the surface
but roared like an inferno, ready to consume everything in its path.

Because Makani had threatened Charlie.

That was the last mistake he’d ever make.

Tani and Junior were watching over Charlie like their lives depended on it. And Danny had no doubt about their dedication—no one was getting within a mile of his son. They were Five-0, trained, lethal, and more importantly, they were family. If Makani or any of his men so much as breathed in Charlie’s direction, they’d be dead before they hit the ground.

That left Makani himself.

Danny was done waiting. Done reacting.

This time, he was bringing the fight straight to that son of a bitch.

Quinn and Cole had arrived that morning, fresh off the plane from Oahu, armed to the teeth and ready to throw down like the seasoned warriors they were. They had barely needed an explanation
before they were in. Five-0 wasn’t just a team—it was a family. And no one touched one of their own without paying the price. Even if technically he wasn’t in Five-0 anymore…
Some things went deeper than a badge.

The plan was simple. Ruthless. Effective.

Makani wanted Joanie. Danny was going to use that against him.

A meet. A trap.

One shot to end this, once and for all.

Danny tightened his grip on the gun at his side, jaw clenched, heart hammering a steady, deadly rhythm in his chest.

It was time.

-

The warehouse was vast, the air thick with dust and the sharp scent of old metal. Danny stood in the center, tense but unreadable, his body wound tight like a live wire.

He wasn’t alone.

Quinn stood to his left, eyes sharp, fingers flexing over her gun. Cole was to his right, his stance steady, watching the entrance.

And then, right on cue, the massive doors groaned open.

Makani walked in.

He wasn’t alone, either.

Six men, armed and trained, followed him, moving with precision. Not just hired muscle—these were professionals.

Danny clenched his jaw. So this wasn’t going to be quick.

Fine.

He wasn’t in the mood for quick anyway.

Makani stopped a few paces away, his smirk lazy. "Danny," he drawled, as if they were old friends meeting for a drink instead of sworn enemies about to rip each other apart. "You’ve been busy."

Danny rolled his shoulders. "Yeah, well, you’re a persistent pain in my ass. Had to deal with that."

Makani’s smirk widened. "And here I thought you’d be tired by now. All those sleepless nights at your boyfriend’s bedside—"

Danny snapped his gun up, aiming straight at Makani’s face. "Finish that sentence, I dare you."

For a second, silence.

Then—Makani laughed.

"God, you really do care, don’t you?" His voice was mocking, but there was something darker beneath it. "He must mean a lot to you."

Danny’s grip tightened.

"Enough that I’d put a bullet in your skull without blinking," he said evenly.

Makani tilted his head. "And yet, you haven’t pulled the trigger."

Danny exhaled sharply. "You don’t really want to talk, do you?" Danny mused. "No, see, you came here thinking you had the upper hand. That I’d just—what? Hand over Joanie? Let you walk away?"

Makani’s eyes darkened. "You have no idea what you’re dealing with."

Danny scoffed. "Yeah? Enlighten me."

Makani exhaled sharply, stepping forward. His men tensed, waiting.

Danny didn’t move.

Then Makani smirked. "You ever wonder how I found her?"

Danny’s jaw locked.

Makani chuckled. "Mary tried to be careful. She ran. A lot. Changed her name, moved across state lines, thought she could disappear." He exhaled, almost amused. "But money and connections? They
do a lot."

Makani shrugged. "I had people watching her. I knew she was pregnant before she even did. Medical reports, DNA records—hell, I had confirmation before she ever gave birth."

"She moved," Makani continued. "Once. Twice. Got away before I could take what was mine. And then, for a while—I lost her." He exhaled dramatically. "Annoying, really. Almost thought she’d slipped away for good."

Danny stared him down, jaw clenched so tight his teeth hurt.

Makani’s smirk sharpened. "And then, fate did me a favor." He took a slow step forward. "I needed to find her. Needed a new way in. And then, I hired a private investigator in Hawaii to track her."

His eyes gleamed.

Danny’s chest tightened.

Makani’s grin widened.

"You never wondered why I hired you, Danny?"

The words hit like a freight train.

Danny’s stomach dropped.

Makani tilted his head, mockingly. "You led me right to her. To Joanie."

Danny’s blood ran cold.
His passport. His credit card transactions.

Simple. Stupid.

Makani had followed him.

Danny felt sick.

Makani let out a slow, satisfied sigh. "Really, I should thank you. Couldn’t have done it without you."

Danny snapped.

He fired.

A bullet ripped through Makani’s shoulder, sending him staggering back.

And then—chaos.

Gunfire erupted, the warehouse exploding into motion.

Danny dove for cover as bullets shredded the air where he had just stood.

Quinn was already moving, taking out one of Makani’s men with a clean headshot.

Cole tackled another, brutal and efficient, slamming the guy into the concrete before breaking his wrist and turning his own gun on him.

Danny popped up from behind a crate, firing twice, dropping another man.

Makani was on the ground, bleeding, but still shouting orders, still alive.

Danny wasn’t done.

A blur of movement caught his eye—one of Makani’s men charging.

Danny barely had time to react before the guy tackled him, sending them both crashing to the floor.

Pain exploded through Danny’s side.

The guy’s knife arced down.

Danny caught his wrist just in time, muscles straining.

"You should’ve run," the man snarled.

Danny growled. "Yeah, well, I’ve been told I have impulse control issues."

With a savage twist, he broke the guy’s grip and drove the knife into his gut.

The man gasped, then collapsed.

Danny shoved the body off, chest heaving.

Then—a sharp cry.

Danny turned just in time to see Quinn drop to one knee, her leg grazed.

"Quinn!" Danny barked.

She gritted her teeth. "It’s fine," she panted. "Just grazed."

Cole covered her, taking out the last of Makani’s men.

Now—only Makani remained.

Danny stalked toward him.

Makani was struggling to his feet, blood soaking his shirt, one arm hanging useless at his side. His gun was gone, his men were dead, but the bastard still smirked, eyes gleaming with something
almost amused.

"Still standing, huh?" Makani rasped.

Danny didn’t answer.

Makani lunged.

Danny met him head-on.

They crashed to the floor, fists flying, raw adrenaline surging through Danny’s veins. Makani was strong, desperate, fueled by the same kind of fury Danny had burning in his gut. They rolled, Danny
slamming a knee into Makani’s ribs before taking a brutal punch to the jaw. His head snapped back, vision swimming for half a second before he bared his teeth and swung again, his knuckles
crunching against Makani’s cheekbone.

Makani snarled, shoving Danny off, scrambling for the knife strapped to his belt. Danny didn’t let him reach it. He tackled him hard, sending them both skidding across the concrete, knocking the
weapon away.

Makani twisted, grabbing a fistful of Danny’s shirt, trying to throw him off balance, but Danny was faster. He broke the grip, slammed an elbow down onto Makani’s already wounded shoulder, and reveled in the pained grunt that followed.

"You don’t get to walk away from this," Danny ground out, voice lethal, breath ragged.

Makani spat blood, laughing through the pain.

With a final, brutal punch, he sent Makani sprawling. The bastard landed on his back, dazed, barely moving.

Danny pushed up, standing over him, chest heaving.

Makani was staggering, gun half-raised.

Danny didn’t hesitate.

He fired.
The first shot hit Makani in the chest.

The second—dead center of his forehead.

Makani’s body jerked.

Then—he crumpled.

This time, he didn’t get back up.

Danny’s head ached. A dull, pounding throb that settled behind his eyes, mixing with the exhaustion, the adrenaline crash, the raw aftermath of everything that had just happened. His knuckles stung, his ribs ached from where Makani had landed a hit, and there was a sharp, pulsing pain in his side that he hadn’t even registered until now.

But none of it mattered.

Not as much as the body on the ground.

Quinn sat on the cold concrete, pressing gauze against her leg, her face twisted in frustration more than pain. Blood had soaked through her pant leg, but she waved off Cole’s offer of help, muttering
something about how she’d had worse.

Cole, for his part, was already moving, his hands quick and steady as he wrapped a bandage around Danny’s arm, tying it off with the efficiency of someone who had done it a hundred times before.
Danny barely felt it.

His gaze was locked on Makani’s lifeless body.

Chest unmoving. Eyes empty. The bastard was finally dead.

And yet, Danny still felt that rage simmering beneath his skin, burning low and steady, because this should have never happened in the first place. Makani should have never gotten this far, never had
the chance to threaten his family, his son.

Never had the chance to make Danny doubt himself.

He swallowed hard, jaw tight.

"You don’t get to hurt them," he murmured. "Not anymore."

His voice was quiet, but firm. Final.

Makani was done.

His threats, his games, his twisted, obsessive hunt for Joanie—it ended here, in this warehouse, bleeding out on a dirty concrete floor.

Danny let out a slow breath, forced himself to take one last look—just to be sure—then turned away.

Without another word, he walked toward the exit, his steps steady, unhurried.

Because this was over.

And now, it was time to go home.

Danny ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply before turning to Cole and Quinn. "You guys coming with me to the hospital?"

Quinn winced as she adjusted the gauze on her leg, shaking her head. "Yeah… not now. We’ll take care of the mess first."

Danny frowned. "How, exactly, are you gonna do that?"

Cole smirked, stretching out his shoulders like this was just another day at the office. "Burn the warehouse, probably. Erase all our traces."

Danny arched an eyebrow. "Subtle."

Quinn shrugged. "You got a better idea?"

Danny sighed, shaking his head. "Nope. Just don’t get yourselves caught."

Cole snorted. "Please. We live for this—taking down the bad guys and making sure they disappear." He shot Danny a grin. "Hell of a job, though. Almost felt like old times."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Real nostalgic." He hesitated for a second before nodding. "Seriously, though. Thanks. I mean it."

Quinn nodded. "Anytime."

Cole clapped Danny on the shoulder, a knowing look in his eyes. "See you later, then?"

Danny shifted, swallowing hard. "I—I gotta go. Steve—"

Quinn gave him a small smirk, waving him off. "Go."

Cole nodded. "Yeah. We got this. You got somewhere more important to be."

Danny nodded, turning toward the exit. His steps were slower this time, heavier. His body hurt, exhaustion pulling at him with every movement.

But none of that mattered.

Because Steve was waiting.

When Danny finally made it back to the hospital, he barely stopped moving.

His entire body ached—bruised ribs, busted knuckles, a gash on his arm that probably needed stitches—but none of it registered, not really. The pain was secondary, just noise in the background. He
had only one thought, one singular need driving him forward.

He had to see Steve.

The nurses tried to stop him, their voices full of concern, their hands light but firm on his arms. “Sir, you need to get checked out—”

“I’m fine,” Danny muttered, brushing them off as he pushed past.

He wasn’t fine. But he wasn’t stopping.

His steps quickened the closer he got to Steve’s room, his heartbeat a dull roar in his ears.

Then he stepped inside.

And everything else fell away.

The sight of Steve still knocked the air out of him.

Still too pale. Still too still.

The monitors beeped softly, the only indication that he was still here, still breathing. The steady rhythm should have been reassuring, but Danny’s stomach clenched at the unnatural stillness of it all. Steve was never still. Even in sleep, there was always tension, movement, the restless energy of a man who didn’t know how to stop.

Now, there was nothing.

Mary turned at the sound of the door, her eyes going wide.

“Danny!” Her voice cracked with relief as she rushed toward him, throwing her arms around him, holding tight.

Danny exhaled sharply, his body stiff for half a second before he melted into the hug, squeezing back just as hard.

Then, a smaller weight collided with him.

Joanie.

She clung to his waist, her tiny arms wrapping around him as tightly as she could, her face buried in his shirt.

“You’re okay!” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Danny swallowed hard, pressing a hand against the back of her head, smoothing down her curls. His throat felt tight, his eyes stinging, but he forced himself to stay steady.

“Yeah, munchkin,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I’m okay.”

Joanie let out a small, shaky breath, clutching him even tighter before finally pulling back just enough to look up at him, her big, tear-filled eyes searching his face.

Mary touched his arm, her voice softer now. “It’s over?”

Danny met her gaze, exhaustion pressing heavy against his bones. He nodded.

“It’s over.”

Mary’s shoulders sagged, her lips parting on an exhale, as if she had been holding her breath this entire time. She gave a small nod, blinking rapidly before wiping at her face, pressing a kiss to Joanie’s
temple as she held her close.

Danny turned back to Steve.

His legs felt heavier as he moved, as if the fight had finally caught up with him, but he forced himself forward, sinking into the chair beside Steve’s bed.

His hand found Steve’s, fingers wrapping around it, holding tight.

Warm. Still warm.

Danny exhaled slowly, running his thumb over Steve’s knuckles, grounding himself in the contact.

“It’s done, babe,” he whispered. “You’re safe. We’re all safe.”

No response.

No flicker of those stubborn blue eyes.

Danny’s fingers tightened around his hand, his heart clenching in his chest.

“Come back to me, babe,” he murmured, voice lower now, raw.

He squeezed gently, like maybe, just maybe, Steve could feel it.

“It’s over,” Danny whispered. “You can wake up now.”

Silence.

Danny let out a slow breath, resting his forehead against their joined hands.

Waiting.

 

-

Chapter 24: 24

The room was too quiet.

Danny hated it.

The hospital was never truly silent—there was always something. The hum of machines, the faint murmur of voices from the hall, the rhythmic beep of Steve’s heart monitor. But it wasn’t the right kind of noise.

Not the kind Danny needed.

Because Steve wasn’t in it.

Not yet.

Danny’s thumb stroked absently over the back of Steve’s hand, grounding himself in the warmth, in the reality of Steve still being here, still fighting. But the stillness—it was wrong.

Steve had always been a pain in the ass about resting, about slowing down. Hell, Danny had spent years trying to get the man to sit still for more than five damn minutes.

And now?

Now, he would have given anything for Steve to be restless. To fidget, to shift, to mutter something under his breath. Anything but this.

Danny swallowed hard, his throat tight, his fingers curling around Steve’s.

"Come on, babe," he whispered, his voice low and wrecked. "I know you hate hospitals as much as I do. So wake the hell up already."

Nothing.

Danny clenched his jaw, blinking rapidly.

"I swear to God, if you’re pulling some dramatic ‘linger in a coma for suspense’ thing, I am gonna be pissed."

His chuckle came out broken.

He squeezed Steve’s hand again, firmer this time.

"You fought like hell to get back here, babe. So don’t you dare stop now."

Still no response.

Danny’s chest tightened. He exhaled sharply, rubbing his free hand over his face, exhaustion pressing down on him like a weight.

His body hurt. His arm was throbbing, his ribs were bruised to hell, and his head still felt like it was caught in a fog.

But he didn’t care.

He wasn’t leaving.

Mary sat quietly across the room, Joanie curled up in her lap, small and exhausted. She had finally let sleep pull her under, her tiny fingers still clutching the fabric of Mary’s shirt like an anchor.

Mary met Danny’s gaze, her expression soft, tired. "You should rest."

Danny shook his head. "Not until he wakes up."

She sighed, rubbing a hand over Joanie’s back. "Danny, you need—"

"I need him to wake up," Danny cut in, his voice cracking on the last word.

Mary’s lips pressed together, her expression pained, but she didn’t argue.

Danny dragged in a slow breath, his hand still gripping Steve’s.

"You remember that time you almost bled out in the jungle?" he muttered, voice low, like he was talking only to Steve. "Or when you got stabbed in a goddamn Chinese prison?" His fingers tightened.
"Or that time you decided to jump off a moving train because apparently, ‘it was faster than stopping’?"

His voice trembled, but he forced himself to keep going.

"You survived all that, babe. So what the hell is different now?"

Nothing.

Just the slow, steady beep, beep, beep of the heart monitor.

Danny bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted copper.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Steve’s arm, his fingers curling around his wrist, pressing against the faint, steady pulse there.

A reminder.

Steve was still here.

Still fighting.

Danny just needed him to wake the hell up.

He closed his eyes, his breath shaky.

And then—

A twitch.

So slight, so faint, Danny almost missed it.

His eyes snapped open.

His fingers tightened around Steve’s, holding still.

Another twitch.

Barely anything. Just the faintest pressure against his grip.

Danny’s heart stopped.

"Steve?"

Nothing.

Danny squeezed his hand.

"Come on, babe," he murmured, his voice trembling. "Come back to me."

The silence stretched.

Then—a flutter.

A faint flicker behind Steve’s eyelids.

Danny sucked in a sharp breath, his own pulse hammering in his ears.

Steve’s brow furrowed slightly.

Danny leaned in. "That’s it, babe," he whispered, his free hand cupping Steve’s wrist. "Come on, open those damn eyes."

Another flicker.

A shift in his breathing.

Then—blue.

Barely open, just a sliver, but there.

Danny’s chest ached. He let out a ragged exhale, his grip tightening.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice wrecked. "There you are."

Steve’s gaze was unfocused, glassy, his eyelids heavy, but he was looking at him.

Danny let out a breathless laugh, his shoulders sagging. "Jesus, babe, you scared the hell out of me."

Steve blinked slowly, his mouth parting, his lips dry. He looked exhausted, like keeping his eyes open was taking everything he had.

Danny didn’t care.

He was awake.

Danny reached for the call button, pressing it blindly, his focus locked on Steve.

"Hey," he murmured, voice thick. "Just hold on, okay? Docs’ll be here in a second."

Steve’s fingers twitch. Barely, but enough.

Danny brought their joined hands to his forehead, pressing his lips against Steve’s knuckles.

"You’re okay," he whispered. "We’re okay."

Steve’s eyelids drooped. His body relaxed.

Danny let out a shaky breath, pressing another kiss to his hand.

"You scared the shit out of me, babe," he murmured.

Steve’s lips quirked—just barely.

Danny choked out a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Laugh it up, McGarrett. I’ll deal with you later."
Steve didn’t respond.

Didn’t need to.

Because for the first time in days, Danny could breathe.

Steve didn’t respond.

Didn’t need to.

Because for the first time in days, Danny could breathe.

He let out a shaky exhale, his grip still firm around Steve’s hand, grounding himself in the warmth, the proof that he was still here. The weight pressing down on his chest for days finally eased, just a fraction, just enough.

Danny closed his eyes for a beat, just breathing, just letting the reality settle.

Steve was awake.

And that was enough.

-

Danny sat there for a long time, unmoving.

His grip on Steve’s hand had loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t. Even now, with the reality of Steve awake settling into his bones, he still felt like if he let go, if he stopped touching him, it would all slip away.

The beeping of the monitors was steady, rhythmic, but it didn’t set his nerves on edge the way it had before. It was just a sound now. Not a lifeline. Not a countdown. Just the proof that Steve was still here. Still breathing.

Danny let out a slow, controlled exhale, pressing his thumb absently over Steve’s knuckles, tracing the familiar callouses. He wanted to say something—anything—but his throat felt thick, his body too heavy with the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

It had been days.

Days of waiting, of tension wound so tight in his chest that he thought it might snap him in half. Days of gripping Steve’s hand, of needing him to wake up, of making bargains in his head that he had no power to keep.

And now that it had happened, now that Steve’s eyes had opened, now that he had made it back—

Danny didn’t know what to do with himself.

His fingers twitched slightly around Steve’s hand before he let go, leaning back in the chair, scrubbing a hand down his face.

Steve was asleep again, his body still weak, still recovering, but it was different now. This wasn’t the fragile, uncertain stillness from before. This was rest. Real rest. The kind that meant he was going to wake up again.

Danny let that thought sit for a moment, let himself believe it.

Then, finally, after another long exhale, he stood. His body protested immediately—aching muscles, stiff joints, bruises from a fight he hadn’t even stopped to acknowledge. His ribs throbbed, his knuckles were raw, and the gash on his arm burned, a sharp reminder that he had been running on pure adrenaline for too long.

But none of that had mattered.

Not until now.

Now that Steve was okay—now that he could finally, finally breathe—Danny felt every single hit, every bruise, every wound catching up to him all at once. His knees nearly buckled from the sheer exhaustion, his head spinning as the weight of the past few days settled heavy in his bones.

Shit.

Maybe those nurses had been right to try and check him earlier.

He took one last glance at Steve—just to reassure himself, just to make sure—before finally stepping toward the door, reaching for the handle.

Yeah. Maybe it was time to let someone patch him up for a change.

Danny stepped out of the room, letting the door click shut behind him.

The hallway was quiet, dimly lit by the glow of overhead fluorescents. Nurses moved through the space with quiet efficiency, their voices hushed, their footsteps soft against the linoleum.

Danny exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. Now that the adrenaline had finally drained out of his system, the pain hit him full force. His ribs ached with every breath, his knuckles were swollen and split, and the gash on his arm throbbed with sharp insistence. He flexed his fingers, wincing at the pull of torn skin.

Yeah, okay. Maybe getting checked out wasn’t the worst idea.

He didn’t even make it three steps before a nurse spotted him, eyebrows lifting as she crossed her arms. “I thought I told you earlier that you needed to be seen.”

Danny sighed, running a hand over his face. “Yeah, yeah, you and every other person in this hospital.”

She arched a brow. “And yet, here you are, still standing, still bleeding.” She gestured at his arm.

Danny glanced down. Right. His sleeve was still torn, dried blood stiffening the fabric. He’d barely noticed.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Do your worst.”

It didn’t take long. They patched him up quickly—cleaned and stitched the wound on his arm, wrapped his ribs, and gave him an ice pack for his knuckles. It was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. The pain was manageable. The exhaustion, though—that was harder to shake.

By the time they were done, he felt wrung out, like he’d been carrying too much for too long and had only just realized the weight of it.

But he wasn’t going anywhere.

Not yet.

Danny made his way back to Steve’s room, pushing the door open quietly.

Steve was still asleep, his breathing slow and steady, but something about him looked… different. A little less pale, a little more at peace. It wasn’t much, but Danny would take it.

Settling back into the chair beside him, he let himself sit in the silence for a moment, just watching.

Steve was alive.

That fact still felt surreal.

Danny leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, his body rigid. He wasn’t touching Steve—not like before.

Not like when he’d had his hands pressed against Steve’s wound, begging him to hold on.

Not like when he’d been curled over him in the dirt, whispering promises into Steve’s blood-streaked hair, pressing his forehead against his and praying to a God he wasn’t even sure he believed in anymore.

Not like when he had gripped Steve’s hand before they loaded him into the chopper, feeling the pulse beneath his fingers stutter, weaken—and then, for one horrifying second, stop.

No.

Now, there was space. Just a few inches, but it might as well have been a damn canyon.

Now, Steve was awake. Groggy, still pale as hell, but awake.

His eyes had cracked open a few hours ago, blinking sluggishly against the harsh hospital lights. The relief that had slammed into Danny when those blue eyes focused on him—really focused on him— had been enough to steal his breath.

But now?

Now, Steve was watching him.

There was something unreadable in his gaze, something quiet and questioning, and Danny could feel it pressing against his chest, heavy as a stone, waiting.

Danny exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before shifting in his chair. “You look like hell,” he muttered, the words gruffer than he intended.

Steve huffed a weak breath, something like a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Feel like it too.” His voice was rough, scratchy from disuse, but there. Solid. Real.

Danny swallowed hard, gripping the arm of his chair. “Yeah, well, maybe next time don’t throw yourself in front of a goddamn bullet.”

Steve’s gaze flickered, something knowing passing over his face, but he didn’t call Danny out on the way his voice cracked at the end. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, still watching him.

“Well, couldn’t let you take it,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Danny’s stomach twisted.

Something intense, thick, passed between them, stretching the already-tense air.

For a second, Danny couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t say what he wanted to—that Steve was a reckless, stupid son of a bitch. That he didn’t get to make that choice, didn’t get to decide whose life was worth saving. That Danny had watched him bleed out in his arms, had felt every second of those moments like they were carved into his goddamn bones.

But before he could gather his words, before he could let them break free, Steve added, “You stayed.”

Danny stiffened.

He looked away, focusing on the IV drip instead of Steve’s too-intense stare. “Yeah, well, someone had to make sure you didn’t pull your usual McGarrett bullshit and try to walk out of here before the doctors cleared you.”

Steve hummed, and God, Danny hated that sound—hated the way it meant Steve wasn’t letting something go, the way it meant he was thinking, turning something over in his head, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Danny knew what was coming before Steve even spoke.

“I thought I heard you,” Steve murmured, his voice softer now, hesitant.

Danny’s grip tightened on the chair. “Yeah?” he said carefully, not looking at him.

Steve’s eyes didn’t leave his face. “When I was shot… I thought I heard you.”

Danny’s heart slammed against his ribs.

Shit.

He forced a scoff, shaking his head. “Yeah, Steve, I was yelling after you. Not exactly unusual.”

Steve’s fingers twitched slightly against the hospital blanket. “Felt you. Heard you saying things.” His brows furrowed, like he was trying to separate dream from reality, like he wasn’t sure what had been real and what had been the fevered delusions of a dying man.

Danny felt Steve’s eyes on him, searching, waiting.

His chest ached, a dull pressure pressing in from all sides.

Because he remembered.

Every word.

He remembered pressing his forehead against Steve’s, begging him to hold on.

He remembered whispering promises—promises he hadn’t dared say out loud before, promises that had spilled out like blood in the heat of the moment, desperate, raw, real.

He remembered telling Steve he loved him.

And now, Steve was here, awake, looking at him like he was trying to piece it all together.

Steve’s lips pressed together, and for a second, Danny thought—hoped—that he’d let it go.

But then Steve’s voice came, quiet, uncertain.

“You called me babe.”

Danny’s breath stopped.

His pulse jumped, thudding against his ribs like a warning, like an alarm, like danger, danger, danger.

Steve’s expression was unreadable, but his voice was soft. Vulnerable.

“You haven’t done that in a long time,” Steve murmured.

Danny licked his lips, feeling like the walls were closing in.

“Well, yeah,” he muttered, his voice too forced, too casual. “You were dying. I was emotional. Give me a break.”

Steve didn’t look away.

Didn’t push.

But the silence between them was thick.

Danny shifted uncomfortably, needing—desperate—to change the subject.

“So, uh…” He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Doctors say you’re out of the woods.” He forced a smirk. “Though you’re gonna be out of commission for a while. No McGarrett-level stunts for at least a few months. Probably longer.”

Steve let him have it. Let him steer them away from the edge, let him back away from whatever the hell had almost been said. He nodded faintly, accepting the change in conversation.

But his eyes?

His eyes still held something Danny didn’t know how to face.

Danny pushed through the lump in his throat, ignoring the way his chest ached.

“So... Mary and Joanie went back to the ranch,” he said, focusing on the facts, the things he could control. “Now that Makani’s gone, they needed some real sleep. They’ll be back in the morning.”

Steve hummed again, shifting slightly in the bed. His face twisted in pain, and Danny moved before he could stop himself, reaching out, steadying him.

Their hands brushed.

A jolt ran through Danny’s system like a live wire.

He pulled back fast, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Jesus, McGarrett, don’t move so much. You just got your insides put back together.”

Steve gave him a tired smirk, but there was something else there now, something knowing.

Danny swallowed, his throat tight.

He had to get out of this room.

Before Steve said something.

Before he said something.

Before the walls around his heart crumbled entirely.

Danny exhaled slowly, shifting on his feet. “Listen, uh…” He hesitated, his voice quieter now. “I gotta go back to Hawaii.”

Steve’s smirk disappeared. His brow furrowed slightly.

Danny continued, “Charlie. I need to see him. Need to make sure he’s okay with my own eyes.” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t—I can’t just stay here and hope everything’s fine. I have to go to him.”

Steve’s throat bobbed. “Yeah,” he said, voice softer. “Of course. You should go.”

Danny’s chest clenched.

Steve nodded, shifting slightly in the bed. “You, uh… you coming back?”

Danny’s breath caught. He looked away, staring at the floor. “I don’t know.”

Steve held his gaze.

Danny couldn’t do this.

His fingers twitched at his sides, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, pressed his hand over Steve’s. A last connection before leaving.

Steve’s fingers curled, the smallest squeeze.

“I’ll call,” Danny murmured.

Steve nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

Danny forced a small, tight smile. “Alright then.” He pressed Steve’s hand once—quick, fleeting, unsure—then turned toward the door.

His hand hesitated on the handle.

Then he left.

 

-

Chapter 25: 25

-
Danny stepped into the hallway, the hospital’s cold fluorescent lights too harsh against his already aching head. His pulse was a steady, dull roar in his ears, his body tense, like it was fighting against itself, against this decision.

His legs felt heavy, like they weren’t his own, like every step away from Steve was a mistake. But what the hell else was he supposed to do?

His son was waiting for him. Charlie had been scared. Charlie had called him, looking for reassurance, looking for him, and Danny hadn’t been there. He had promised himself—promised—that no matter what, his kids would always come first.

And yet, as he reached the hospital doors, pushing through into the biting night air, all he could think about was the way Steve’s fingers had curled around his, weak but there, holding on even when Danny had pulled away.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he forced himself to keep walking.

A part of him had been waiting for Steve to stop him. To say something, anything, that would make him stay. But Steve had just let him go.

Danny swallowed against the tight knot forming in his throat, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Maybe that was the worst part—that Steve hadn’t fought him on it. Hadn’t asked him to stay.

Because it meant that Steve wasn’t sure if he would.

And neither was Danny.

-

The drive back to the ranch was a blur. His hands gripped the wheel too tight, his foot heavy on the gas, pushing the speed limit without care. The Montana night stretched around him, dark and endless, pressing against the windows.

By the time he pulled up to the house, he could see the faint glow of the porch light, a soft yellow beacon cutting through the dark.

Mary was waiting for him, leaning against the wooden railing, arms crossed over her chest, a blanket wrapped loosely around her shoulders. “You look like crap,” she said, her voice dry but quiet.

Danny let out a huff, shutting the car door a little too hard. “Yeah, well. Been a long couple days.”

Mary nodded, watching him carefully, her arms crossed over her chest, the dim glow from the porch light casting soft shadows across her face. "He’s good?"

Danny sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, his jaw tightening slightly. He had expected this question. Maybe even dreaded it. "He’s gonna be fine," he said after a moment, voice steady but laced with something else. "Out of the woods. Doctors say he just needs time."

Mary hummed softly, the sound thoughtful, measured. But she didn’t look away from him.

Her eyes were sharp, even in the dim light, cutting straight through him like she was searching for something beneath the words he had just given her. Then, after a beat... “That’s not what I meant.”

Danny’s breath hitched for half a second, his fingers stilling where they had been running over his jaw. He knew that. Of course, he knew that.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to talk about this. Didn’t want to unpack all the shit that had just happened. Not now. Maybe not ever. But Mary was Steve’s sister. She knew him, just like she knew Danny. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to let him walk into this house without calling him on his bullshit.

She studied his face, reading too much in the tight set of his jaw, the way his shoulders hunched like he was bracing for something. “You told him, didn’t you?” she asked, voice softer now.

Danny stilled. His throat worked around nothing. “Told him what?”

Mary gave him a look. “Come on, Danny.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “He was dying, Mary. I—I said a lot of things.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze unwavering. “And now?”

Danny swallowed hard, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And now, I gotta go see my kid.”

Mary watched him for a long moment, something quiet, almost sad, flickering across her face.

“You running?” she asked.

Danny’s jaw clenched. “I’m going to Hawaii. That’s not running.”

Mary didn’t argue. Just sighed, shifting slightly against the railing.

“Joanie’s asleep inside,” she said after a beat, changing the subject. “She crashed hard, but she’s been asking about you.”

Danny nodded, the tension in his chest easing just a little at that. “I’ll check on her.”

Mary hesitated, then, voice softer. “He’ll be okay, you know.”

Danny nodded, looking away. “Yeah. I know.”

But he didn’t know what that meant anymore.

-

The night passed in fits and starts. Danny barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was blood—his hands covered in it, pressing down on Steve’s stomach, trying to keep him here. He kept hearing the ragged way Steve had breathed, the way his voice had cracked when he had whispered Danny’s name. And worse, he kept feeling that final moment—when Steve had let go, when Danny had felt the last weak squeeze of his fingers before they’d gone slack.

His gut twisted violently, his chest aching with something he couldn’t shove down no matter how hard he tried. He’d almost lost Steve. Again.

And now he was leaving him.

He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling in the dark. The house was quiet, the kind of silence that felt too loud, too oppressive. He knew Mary was right.

This felt a lot like running.

But he couldn’t stay here, not with all these emotions clawing at his ribs, making it hard to breathe. He had to see Charlie. Had to be sure his kid was okay.

And after that?

After that, he didn’t know.

Danny closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. For now, it was the only choice he could make.

-

The airport was quiet, the early morning haze settling over the runways as Danny slung his bag over his shoulder, heading toward his gate.

His phone sat heavy in his pocket, Steve’s number still at the top of his call log. He hadn’t texted. Hadn’t called. And Steve hadn’t either.

Danny wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

With a sigh, he pulled out his phone, his fingers hovering over the screen for a long moment before he finally typed out a message.

Danny: Leaving for Hawaii. I’ll call when I land.

It was short. Too short. But he didn’t know what else to say. He hovered for a second, then hit send.

The reply came faster than he expected. Steve: Okay.

Danny swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around his phone. For a split second, he almost texted something else—anything else. But the gate agent called for boarding, and Danny exhaled sharply, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

He had to go.

Had to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do next.

Had to figure out if the space between them was something that could ever be closed again.

-

Steve stared at his phone long after Danny’s message came in, his fingers loose around it, his body too tired to move.

He should have said something else. Should have asked him to stay. But what the hell right did he have to do that?

Danny needed to see Charlie. He needed to be with his son.

And him… He had to let him go.

He swallowed against the ache in his chest, shifting carefully in the hospital bed, every movement sending a dull, dragging pain through his ribs.

His fingers hovered over his phone, debating, fighting himself. Then, finally, he typed back. Steve: I’ll be here.

And God help him, he hoped that would still be true when Danny figured out where the hell he was supposed to be.

-

Danny stepped off the plane, the warm air wrapping around him like an old, familiar blanket. It smelled like salt, like the ocean, like home—except it didn’t feel like home. Not really.

Not after the last week. Not after Steve.

His feet moved on autopilot through the airport, his bag slung over his shoulder, his mind a mess of exhaustion and too many tangled thoughts. The red-eye flight hadn’t done him any favors, but he couldn’t afford to waste time.

Charlie was waiting for him.

Rachel had offered to pick him up, but Danny had shut that down quickly. He needed time to breathe, to clear his head before facing his kid.

Before facing everything.

So he grabbed a rental car and drove—out of the airport, through the streets he knew by heart, past the places that should’ve felt familiar but now just felt… different.

Like a life he’d stepped out of, only to realize he wasn’t sure how to step back in.

By the time he pulled into Rachel’s driveway, his stomach was tight with anticipation, his pulse a steady drum in his ears.

The front door swung open before he could even get out of the car.

And there was Charlie—standing in the doorway, arms crossed, brows furrowed, looking just like Rachel but so much like him too.

Danny swallowed hard, his throat tight. For a second, neither of them moved.

Then Charlie stepped forward, fast, like he was afraid Danny would disappear if he didn’t move right now—and before Danny could even react, his kid had thrown his arms around him, hugging him tight.

Danny’s breath hitched. Charlie hadn’t hugged him like this since he was a little kid. Since before he started pulling away, acting tough, trying to prove he didn’t need his old man hovering over him all the time. Danny’s arms came up, wrapping around him, holding on. His voice was rough when he finally spoke. "Hey, buddy."

Charlie didn’t say anything. Just squeezed tighter.

Danny closed his eyes for a second, his hand resting on the back of his kid’s head. He’d made the right choice. Even if it felt like something inside him had been left behind.

-

Rachel was watching him carefully from the kitchen, arms crossed over her chest, a glass of tea sitting untouched on the counter.

Charlie had finally let go, had gone to grab something from his room, leaving them alone in the quiet tension of the house.

"You look like hell," Rachel said, her voice flat, assessing.

Danny let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Yeah, well. It’s been a week."

Rachel didn’t smile. Didn’t crack some sarcastic comment back. That’s how he knew she was worried.

Danny exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Charlie okay?"

Rachel hesitated. "He’s better now that you’re here."

Danny’s chest ached. "He tell you what happened?" he asked carefully.

Rachel nodded. "Bits and pieces. Enough."

Danny clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. "I should’ve been here."

Rachel sighed, shaking her head. "You weren’t exactly on vacation, Danny."

Danny didn’t answer. Rachel studied him for a long moment, her sharp eyes scanning his face, reading him like a damn book. Then, quietly— "How’s Steve?"

Danny stiffened. His gut twisted, his hands tensing. Rachel wasn’t stupid. She knew what Steve meant to him—had always meant to him. She had never needed it spelled out. Danny swallowed hard. "He, uh… got shot."

Rachel’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t look surprised. Just concerned. "Is he okay?"

Danny exhaled sharply, shifting his weight. "Yeah. I mean, he will be. Doctors say he’s out of the woods, but it’s gonna take time."

Rachel nodded slowly. "And you left?" Danny flinched. Rachel didn’t say it with judgment. She said it like she knew. Like she understood exactly why he’d left but also exactly why it was killing him. Danny looked away, his throat tight. "Charlie needed me."

Rachel nodded again, like that was answer enough. And maybe it was.

But they both knew it wasn’t the whole truth.

-

Charlie didn’t ask about Steve. Not at first. Not until later, when the adrenaline of seeing Danny again had worn off, when the house was quiet, when he finally sat down beside Danny on the back porch, staring out at the waves.

"You’re different," Charlie said suddenly, voice quiet but sure.

Danny blinked, glancing over at him. "What?"

Charlie shrugged, still looking at the ocean. "I don’t know. You just… seem different."

Danny’s stomach twisted.

He wanted to argue. Wanted to tell Charlie that he was the same as always, that nothing had changed. But that would be a lie, because everything had changed, and Charlie was smart. Too damn smart for his own good.

Danny exhaled slowly. "Yeah," he admitted. "It’s been a crazy week, buddy."

Charlie was quiet for a long moment, picking at a loose thread on his hoodie. Then— "Is Uncle Steve okay?"

Danny’s breath caught. He turned to look at Charlie, finding his kid’s gaze already on him, careful, serious. "Yeah," Danny said, voice rough. "He’s okay."

Charlie studied him. "But you’re here."

Danny’s jaw tensed. "Yeah." Charlie nodded slowly, like he was trying to understand something. Danny swallowed hard, looking away. "I needed to see you."

Charlie’s lips pressed together, something flickering in his expression. "Are you going back?" Danny didn’t answer right away. Because he didn’t know. Because he was afraid of what that answer meant.

Charlie turned back to the ocean, nodding like he already knew the answer anyway.

Danny felt something in his chest crack.

-

Chapter 26: 26

Notes:

Hi everyone! I have to say, I’ve been a bit surprised and taken aback by all the opinions and feelings about the last chapter. For me, Danny couldn’t have reacted any other way—too worried about Steve to leave, but also too worried about Charlie to stay once Steve gets better. 😏

But I understand that we don't all have to see things the same way—that's human. A bit combative in the comments, but still human...

In any case, as I've already said, we're here to have a good time, not to stress over something we don't enjoy.

So… if my take on things doesn't suit you, you're free to move on. 😊

But having such strong reactions to my story is, in some way, a great thing—it means I’ve been able to evoke something through my writing...

Much love to all of you 🥰💜

-
Steve was staring at his phone again.

It had been two days since Danny had left. Two days of hospital ceilings and shitty hospital food and too much time to think. Danny hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted.

And Steve hadn’t either.

He didn’t know why.

Maybe because he didn’t want to know the answer. Maybe because if Danny had already decided not to come back, Steve wasn’t sure he could take hearing him say it out loud.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. He wasn’t gonna do this. Wasn’t gonna sit here like some damn lovesick fool, waiting for a text that might never come. Danny was with Charlie. That was good. That was where he needed to be.

Steve had no right to ask for more than that. And yet—

His phone buzzed. Steve’s breath caught. His heart jumped, stupid and reckless.

He grabbed his phone, his pulse hammering as he read the name on the screen.

Danny.

For a second, he didn’t move.Then, finally, he answered.

And Danny’s voice—rough, quiet, hesitant—came through the line. "Hey, babe."

-

Danny hadn’t meant to call. Hadn’t meant to hear his voice again so soon.

But here he was.

Sitting in his car, parked in his own damn driveway, staring at the house that suddenly felt too big, too empty, with the phone pressed to his ear and his pulse thundering in his throat.

And then— "Hey, babe."

The words had slipped out before he could stop them. Natural. Instinctive. Like breathing. Like he hadn’t spent three years not saying them.

Silence stretched over the line, thick and charged.

Danny closed his eyes, gripping the steering wheel with his free hand, willing himself to stay steady.

Then, finally— "Hey." Steve’s voice was rough, quiet. Like he’d been waiting.

Danny exhaled slowly, his throat tight. He had nothing planned. No script, no idea what the hell he was doing calling Steve from his car in the middle of the night.

But he still couldn’t hang up. "How you feeling?" Danny asked, keeping his tone light, casual. Like this was normal. Like they were normal.

Steve huffed, something like a dry chuckle. "Better than I was, worse than I want to be."

Danny smirked despite himself, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, you nearly bled out on me, McGarrett. So maybe try wanting to be alive a little harder."

Steve was quiet for a beat. Then, "Didn’t wanna break my streak."

Danny froze. His grip tightened on the wheel. His chest felt like it had just taken a direct hit. Because Steve meant it. Because for all the reckless, insane, McGarrett-level ways Steve had survived over the years, the only time he’d ever come close to dying was when Danny wasn’t there. And this time?This time, he had been.

Danny swallowed hard, staring out at the darkened street, his mind running in circles, chasing something he didn’t want to catch.

He should’ve made a joke. Should’ve rolled his eyes, called Steve a drama queen, moved on. But he couldn’t.

Because suddenly, there was no space between them. No hospitals, no bullet wounds, no godforsaken three years of silence.

Just this. Just them.

Steve exhaled softly, the sound barely there. "You made it back to Charlie okay?"

Danny blinked, the question pulling him back, giving him something to hold onto. "Yeah," he muttered, rubbing his forehead. "Yeah, I did."

Steve hummed, like he was waiting for more.

Danny let his head fall back against the seat, staring up at the car’s ceiling, exhaustion weighing down on him like a boulder. "He was… I don’t know. Off, I guess," Danny admitted. "Not in a bad way. Just… quiet. Looking at me like he was waiting for me to say something."

Steve’s voice was softer now. "Did you?"

Danny let out a humorless laugh. "I don’t even know what the hell I’m supposed to say, babe."

Steve didn’t answer. Didn’t tell him what he should say, how he should fix it. Just waited.

Danny closed his eyes. "He asked about you."

Steve’s breath hitched—so quiet Danny barely caught it. "What’d you tell him?"

Danny let out a slow breath, gripping his knee. "That you’re okay." He hesitated. "That you’re still in Montana. That you’re getting better."

Silence.

Then, "That’s it?"

Danny’s jaw tensed. "What do you want me to say, Steve?"

"I don’t know," Steve admitted, his voice so damn honest it made Danny’s chest ache. "I guess… I just wanted to know if you told him I was coming back."

Danny stilled. The words hit different than they should’ve. Because Steve hadn’t said he was coming back. Not yet. Not ever.

Danny’s throat tightened, his fingers curling into his jeans. "I didn’t tell him that," he muttered, voice rough.

Steve didn’t say anything.

Danny bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to breathe past the lump in his throat. "Are you?"

Steve exhaled sharply, and Danny could picture him—laying in that hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to say something without saying it. "You want me to?"

Danny’s chest ached. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to say, come back, you idiot. But instead "I don’t know, Steve." And that was the truth. He didn’t know. Didn’t know how to make sense of any of this, of how the last week had completely flipped his world upside down, of how the hell he was supposed to balance his son and Steve and everything in between.

And Steve knew it.

So when he finally spoke again, his voice was calm, careful. "Okay."

Just that.

No push, no frustration.

Just okay.

Danny closed his eyes, something breaking open in his chest. "I should go," he muttered, even though he didn’t want to.

Steve hesitated. "Yeah."

Danny swallowed hard. "Get some sleep, McGarrett."

Steve huffed a soft laugh. "Yeah, you too, Danno."

And that...That almost made Danny stay on the line.

But he couldn’t. So he hung up.

And, not for the first time since he landed in Hawaii, he felt like he’d left something behind.

-

Danny barely slept that night. Not that he expected to.

Even after three years, his body was still wired for late-night stakeouts, for hospital vigils, for waiting. And now, with his thoughts a mess of tangled emotions and unsaid words, sleep wasn’t happening.

Instead, he sat in the dim glow of his living room, a half-drunk beer sweating in his hand, staring at his phone like it had the answers.

He shouldn’t have called. Shouldn’t have let himself slip back into the easy rhythm of talking to Steve, of hearing his voice, of feeling that pull—the one that never really left, even when Steve had. And yet, the moment he’d landed back in Hawaii, the first thing he’d wanted to do was call.

Fuck.

Danny sighed sharply, scrubbing a hand over his face. The exhaustion wasn’t just from lack of sleep—it was everything. The past week, the past three years, the past lifetime.

Being back on the island felt strange, like stepping into an old life he wasn’t sure still fit. The air was still thick with salt, the distant hum of the ocean reaching through the open window, the warmth of the night pressing against his skin. It was home. It was familiar.

And yet, it felt off.

Maybe because he was different now.

A door creaked upstairs, soft footsteps padding down. A second later, Charlie appeared in the hallway, rubbing his eyes, his hair sticking up in every direction. Danny glanced at him, forcing a small smile. “Hey, buddy. What are you doing up?”

Charlie shrugged, his voice thick with sleep. “Heard you downstairs.”

Danny sighed, shifting on the couch. “Yeah, sorry. Couldn’t sleep.”

Charlie hesitated, then moved closer, stopping a few feet away. He looked smaller in the dim light, his face still soft with childhood, but there was something in his eyes—something careful, something knowing. “Because of Uncle Steve?”

Danny froze. His chest went tight.

Charlie watched him, too damn perceptive for a kid his age.

Danny exhaled, setting his beer aside. “Yeah, kid. Because of Uncle Steve.”

Charlie chewed his lip, looking down at his feet. Then, quietly “Are you still mad at him?” Danny’s stomach twisted. Of all the questions. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, raking a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s complicated.”

Charlie frowned, shifting on his feet. “Did he do something bad?”

Danny blinked, startled by the question. “What? No. No, nothing like that.”

Charlie tilted his head, his brow furrowed. “Then why don’t you just—” He hesitated, choosing his words. “—just be okay with him again?” Danny swallowed hard, feeling something tighten in his chest. Because he didn’t know how to answer that. Because he wanted to. Because he didn’t know how.

He let out a slow breath, forcing a tired smile. “It’s not that simple, buddy.”

Charlie’s frown deepened, his little fingers twisting in his pajama shirt. “Do you still love him?”

Danny’s breath caught. His heartbeat stumbled. He stared at his son, at the innocent way Charlie asked the hardest damn question in the world. Did he still love Steve? The answer slammed into him before he was ready for it.

Charlie looked at him expectantly, blinking sleepily but with that sharpness, that unshakable clarity only kids seemed to have when cutting through the bullshit. Danny looked agape at his son’s words.
"Don't look at me like that, Dad... I'm not stupid," Charlie muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know you loved him... and I know he hurt you when he left. He hurt me too." Danny’s stomach twisted.

Charlie exhaled, shifting on his feet. "But… I don't know. If… maybe…" He hesitated, eyes flickering away for a second before locking back onto Danny’s. "Maybe if you still love him, and he still loves us… then he could come back home."

Danny stilled. His chest ached.He should have seen it coming. Should have.

Because for all the ways Charlie was still a kid, he was smart. Smart enough to see through the things Danny didn’t say, the way he danced around certain topics. Smart enough to know Steve’s absence had been a wound neither of them had ever really healed from.

"Charlie…" Danny’s voice was rough, tight. He rubbed his jaw, feeling like he was holding something fragile in his hands, something too precious to drop. "I… I don’t know.”

Charlie was quiet for a moment, then climbed onto the couch, sitting close but not too close. “You do,” he said simply. Matter-of-fact. Like it was obvious.

Danny let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh yeah? What makes you so sure?”

Charlie shrugged. “Because you help him when he needed you. You stayed with him when he was hurt before coming back.”

Danny stilled. His chest ached. Because Charlie was right. They never talked about Steve like that. And it felt good and strange at the same time. Danny swallowed, staring at the far wall. “It’s not that simple, kid.”

Charlie looked up at him, wide-eyed, tired but stubborn. “It could be.”

Danny let out a slow, measured breath, running a hand over his face. He didn’t know how to explain it, how to tell his kid that loving someone didn’t erase the past, that three years of silence didn’t just vanish because of a near-death experience. That forgiveness was a process.

That he didn’t even know if he was ready.

But his son—his perceptive, too-wise-for-his-own-good son—just kept watching him like he already knew all that and was just waiting for Danny to catch up.

Charlie yawned, rubbing his eyes again. “Are you gonna go see him?”

Danny hesitated. His first instinct was to say no. To say he’d just gotten home, he had things to do, Steve had people looking after him. But the words stuck in his throat, because they were all excuses.

And Charlie saw right through them.

Danny sighed, muttering, “I probably should.”

Charlie blinked up at him, then, with a little more hesitation this time, asked, “And maybe I can go with you?”

Danny felt his heart lurch. He studied his son’s face, the hope there, the careful way he’d phrased it, like he was testing the waters. Like maybe he wanted to see Steve too. Danny passed a hand over his face, exhaustion weighing down on him, his chest tightening. He muttered, “You sure about that?”

Charlie nodded eagerly. "Yeah.I’m done being angry or sad or…whatever…I want to see him, dad"

Danny exhaled, something in him cracking just a little. “Okay,” he said simply.

Charlie beamed—just a little, but enough. He leaned into Danny’s side, warm and solid, and Danny wrapped an arm around him automatically, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

The house was quiet again, the streetlights casting a soft glow against the walls.

Danny stared at his phone one last time.

And for the first time since coming back, he let himself admit...

He didn’t want to be in Hawaii.

Not really.

Not without Steve.

-

Chapter 27: 27

Notes:

This is a big chapter... I couldn’t just cut it. Hope you like it! 😉

Danny woke up the next morning to the sound of movement in the kitchen.

The familiar clang of plates, the low hum of voices—one tired but patient, the other bright and full of energy. He groaned, rubbing his face before glancing at the clock. Too early. But his body was already awake, restless from a night of too much thinking and not enough sleeping.

He’d barely drifted off before the sun started creeping in through the blinds, before the weight of the previous day settled back onto his chest like a damn anvil.

Steve.

The call.

Charlie’s questions.

Danny had spent half the night replaying everything—Steve’s voice over the phone, the hesitation in his tone, the unspoken things hanging between them like ghosts. And now, morning had come too soon, and he wasn’t ready for it.

But the world didn’t stop just because he wasn’t ready.

Pushing himself up, he padded barefoot into the kitchen, blinking against the morning light. Charlie was sitting at the counter, hunched over a bowl of cereal, while Rachel stood by the coffee machine,
her back turned as she poured herself a cup. She didn’t look at him when she spoke. “Rough night?”

Danny sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “You have no idea.”

Rachel finally turned, studying him with that sharp, assessing look she had perfected over the years. The one that meant she already knew the answer. “Charlie told me you were up late.”

Danny shot his son a look, but Charlie just kept eating, entirely unbothered.

Rachel sipped her coffee. “You called him, didn’t you? ”Danny clenched his jaw. “Rachel—”

“I’m not judging,” she said, setting her cup down with a quiet clink. “Just… wondering if you know what you’re doing.”

Danny exhaled sharply, leaning against the counter. “No. I don’t. But Charlie wants to see him.”

Rachel’s expression flickered. “And you?” Danny hesitated, his throat tight. He crossed his arms, looking anywhere but at her. “It’s complicated.”

Rachel hummed, tapping her nails against the mug. “It always is with you two.”

Danny scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, life’s messy.”

Rachel studied him for a long moment before sighing. “Just don’t drag Charlie into something that isn’t stable, Danny.”

Danny’s chest went tight. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know.” Her voice softened. “That’s why I’m telling you to think about it.”

Danny swallowed hard, nodding once. He could think about it all he wanted, but the truth was, it didn’t change anything.

Charlie finished his cereal and looked up at him expectantly. “So… when are we going?”

Danny huffed out a small, tired laugh. “Eager, huh?” Charlie shrugged. “Kinda.”

Danny shook his head, reaching for his own coffee. “Alright, kid. We’ll book a flight.”

Charlie grinned, and Rachel sighed, rubbing her temple. “Of course you will.”

Danny smirked. “You knew this was coming.” Rachel sighed again, but this time, there was a hint of resignation in it. “Yes, I did. Just… be careful.” Danny didn’t answer. He just nodded, because he wasn’t sure careful was even an option anymore.

Still, he glanced at Charlie, taking in the excitement in his son’s face, the way he was practically bouncing in his seat. “We’ll go this weekend,” Danny added, keeping his voice light. “You still gotta go to school, buddy.”

Charlie groaned. “But it’s in four days…” Danny raised an eyebrow. “Yeah but four days of school are important. Charlie slumped a little but didn’t argue, just muttered, “Fine.”

Danny smirked, taking another sip of coffee. “That’s the spirit.”

Charlie huffed but then perked up again. “So we’re really going this weekend?” Danny nodded. “Yeah, kid. We’ll fly out Friday night, after school, and we’ll be right back for Monday.” Charlie’s grin widened, but Rachel gave Danny a pointed look over the rim of her coffee cup. “A ten-hour flight both ways, Danny?”

Danny shrugged. “What? He’s still gotta make it to school.”

Rachel sighed, rubbing her temple. “Which means he’s going to have to sleep on the plane, both ways, if he’s going to be remotely functional Monday morning.”

Danny waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know. We’ll take the night flight Sunday, he’ll sleep, he’ll be fine.”

Charlie made a face. “Sleeping on planes is boring.”

Danny snorted. “Yeah, well, so is falling asleep in class, and I promise you, your teacher will notice.” Charlie slumped a little but didn’t argue, just muttered, “Fine.” Danny smirked, reaching for his coffee. “That’s the spirit.”

Rachel exhaled, shaking her head. “Just don’t let him come back exhausted.”

Danny grinned. “No promises.”

-

The flight to Montana was uneventful.

Danny barely registered most of it. His mind was a whirlwind, caught between what the hell am I doing? and I have to see him.

Charlie, on the other hand, was all energy—pressing his face to the window, talking about everything and nothing. Danny let him talk, let the distraction wash over him like white noise.

But then, about halfway through the flight, Charlie’s words started to slow, his excitement fading into sluggish blinking. The late hour, the exhaustion of the school day, the weight of the long trip finally catching up to him.

Danny nudged him lightly. “Alright, buddy, time to get some sleep.” Charlie mumbled something incoherent, his head still half-tilted toward the window.

Danny sighed. He’d expected this. Charlie never wanted to sleep on planes, no matter how tired he was. “C’mon, kid. You gotta get some rest if you wanna be able to stay awake tomorrow.” Charlie groaned, shifting in his seat, but he didn’t argue. Not really.

Danny pulled out the hoodie he’d shoved in his carry-on and handed it over. “Here. Use this as a pillow.” Charlie took it without protest, tucking it against the armrest, his eyelids already drooping.
Danny watched as he fidgeted for another few minutes, his body restless, fighting the inevitable. But eventually, the exhaustion won. His breathing evened out, his small frame relaxing into sleep.
Danny exhaled, leaning back against his own seat, staring at the darkened cabin around them.

He should sleep too. But his mind wouldn’t quiet.

As the plane touched down, as the familiar, open Montana landscape stretched out before them, Danny’s stomach twisted.

He was really doing this.

-

By the time they pulled up to the hospital, Danny felt like his ribs were caving in.

The parking lot was quiet, the crisp Montana air sharp against his skin as he gripped the steering wheel, breathing through the mess of emotions tangling in his chest. He turned to Charlie, swallowing hard. “Alright, listen—just to be sure, you really want to do this?”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Dad, we already flew all the way here. I think we’re past second-guessing.”

Danny huffed out a small chuckle, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Yeah, well. Humor me.”

Charlie’s expression softened, his voice quieter now. “I need to see him. Just as much as you do.” Danny’s stomach twisted. This kid. He reached over, ruffling Charlie’s hair. “Smartass.”

Charlie grinned. “Learned from the best.”

Danny shook his head, exhaling sharply before opening the door. “Come on, kid.”

The hospital smelled like antiseptic, like too many memories Danny didn’t want to dig up. He hated hospitals. He’d spent too much time in them—watching people fight for their lives, watching people lose—and the tension in his chest tightened as they navigated the halls.

Steve’s room was easy to find. Too easy.

Danny hesitated at the door, pulse jumping. Charlie looked up at him, waiting. Danny exhaled. No backing out now.

He knocked lightly before pushing the door open.

And there he was.

Steve.

Sitting up in bed, looking better than before, but still pale, still too thin, still Steve. Danny’s chest ached.

Steve’s eyes flickered up from whatever book he was pretending to read, and for a second, he just stared. Then, his lips curved into something small, something real. “Hey.”

Danny swallowed hard, pushing the lump from his throat. “Hey yourself.”

Steve’s gaze dropped slightly, landing on the small figure beside Danny. Charlie, hesitant but eager, shifting on his feet.

Steve’s lips parted slightly, his breath catching. “Charlie.”

Charlie grinned. “Hi, Uncle Steve.” Steve exhaled, something Danny couldn’t place flickering in his expression. “Hey, kid.”

Charlie moved first, stepping forward, and to Danny’s absolute horror, he climbed up onto the bed, right next to Steve.

Steve’s face twisted with a mix of amusement and pain. “Uh—careful there, buddy.”

Charlie froze. “Oh. Right. You’re broken.”

Steve chuckled softly. “Something like that.”

Danny sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Charlie—”

Steve raised a hand, stopping him. “It’s okay.”

And then, to Danny’s absolute disbelief, Steve reached out, ruffling Charlie’s hair in that easy, familiar way he used to. And Charlie just beamed.

Danny’s chest tightened. He felt like he was watching something fragile, something delicate, something he hadn’t realized he needed to see. Steve looked up at him, something soft in his gaze. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon,” he murmured.

Danny exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “Yeah, well…” His eyes flickered to Charlie. “Turns out someone had some opinions.”

Steve smirked. “Smart kid.” Danny rolled his eyes, settling into the chair beside the bed. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head, Steven.”

Steve’s lips twitched, but there was something warm in his gaze, something different. Danny looked away. Because he wasn’t ready for that.

Not yet.

But sitting there, with Charlie talking, with Steve listening, with the space between them feeling just a little smaller than before… Danny figured maybe he would be.

Danny sat back in the uncomfortable hospital chair, letting the soft hum of Charlie’s voice fill the room. The kid was rambling—talking about school, basketball, some video game Danny barely understood—but Steve was listening, nodding along, his expression warm in a way that made Danny’s chest feel too tight.

It was almost too easy to pretend this was normal. That this was just another visit, that nothing had changed, that three years hadn’t stretched between them like a canyon.

But then Steve shifted, wincing slightly, his hand pressing against his side where the wound still mended, and reality crashed back into place. Danny clenched his jaw, eyes flickering away.

Charlie paused mid-sentence, his brows furrowing. “You okay?”

Steve forced a small smile, waving a hand. “Yeah, buddy. Just a little sore.”

Charlie didn’t look convinced. He frowned, eyes darting between them, clearly picking up on the unspoken tension in the room.

Danny saw the moment his kid made a decision. “Dad,” Charlie said slowly, his tone careful, “can I get a soda?”

Danny blinked, glancing at him. “Uh, yeah? Sure?”

Charlie nodded like that settled it, sliding off the bed and stretching his arms. “Cool. Gonna go find a vending machine.”

Danny frowned, glancing toward the IV drip, toward Steve, then back to Charlie. “You want me to—”

“Nope.” Charlie cut him off, already heading for the door. “I got it.”

Danny’s stomach twisted. That little manipulative... The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Danny alone with Steve, the silence between them suddenly too loud.

Steve let out a quiet chuckle. “Smart kid.”

Danny exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “Yeah, yeah, he’s a damn genius.”

Steve shifted again, slower this time, his movements careful. “He’s gotten taller.”

Danny nodded, arms crossed. “Yeah. You missed a lot.”

The words hung between them, heavy and weighted with things neither of them had said. Steve looked away first, his fingers idly picking at the hospital blanket. “I know.”
Silence stretched again. Danny hated it.

He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “So…” He trailed off, searching for something to say that didn’t feel like a landmine. Steve beat him to it. “Why’d you come back?”

Danny stilled.

Steve’s voice was quiet, careful, but there was something else beneath it. Something vulnerable. Something like hope.

Danny swallowed hard, his throat tight.

He could lie. Could brush it off. Could throw out some excuse about Charlie wanting to see him, about making sure he wasn’t dying, about unfinished business.

But Steve deserved better than that. They deserved better than that.

Danny shifted in his seat, glancing at the door like it might save him, but it didn’t. He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Because I needed to.”

Steve’s breath hitched—so quiet Danny almost missed it. He didn’t push. Didn’t ask for more. Just nodded slightly, like that was enough for now. Danny felt like he could breathe again.

A soft knock at the door made them both jump slightly, and then, before Danny could even open his mouth... The door swung open.

Mary barely had time to step aside before Joanie came barreling through, a blur of messy curls and too much energy.

Danny barely had time to brace himself before Joanie launched into his arms, wrapping her small hands around his neck with the kind of unrestrained excitement only a kid her age could manage. He caught her easily, arms securing her in a tight hug as she giggled against his shoulder, her small frame warm and solid in his hold.

Danny let out a breath, his throat tightening unexpectedly. “Hey, kiddo,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. “Missed you, Oncle Danny,” she mumbled, her voice muffled in his shirt.

Danny swallowed past the lump in his throat, smoothing a hand over the back of her head. “Yeah, I missed you too, kid.”

Joanie pulled back slightly, peering up at him like she needed to make sure he was really there, that he wasn’t just a dream she’d wake up from. Her wide, toothy grin was bright, her eyes shining with something that made Danny’s chest squeeze uncomfortably.

He huffed out a soft laugh, adjusting his hold on her. “Yeah, Munchkin. I’m here now.”

Mary stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. Her smile was warm, genuine, her eyes shining with relief. “Danny, you’re back.”

Danny shifted Joanie slightly in his arms, letting out a breath. “Yeah, well, you didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily, did you?”

Mary smirked, stepping closer. “Not for a second.” She gave him a once-over before shaking her head. “You look slightly better, though.” Danny scoffed. “Thanks, really, I appreciate that.”

Mary just grinned, then stepped in and pulled him into a quick hug, careful of Joanie still clinging to him. It was brief, but firm, grounding. “I’m glad you’re here,” she murmured against his shoulder.
Danny sighed, letting himself sink into it for just a second before pulling back. “Yeah, me too.”

She squeezed his arm before turning to Steve, her expression softening. “And you, you look like hell, but I’ll be nice since you actually have an excuse.”

Steve smirked, though it was faint. “Generous of you.” Mary arched a brow, crossing her arms. “How are you feeling?” Steve shifted slightly, exhaling. “Better than before.”

Mary studied him for a moment before nodding, seemingly satisfied. Then she turned back to Joanie, brushing her hair back. “Alright, kiddo, let’s give them a minute.” Joanie pouted, looking between them. “But I just got here.”

Mary smiled, ruffling her hair. “And you’ll see Uncle Danny and Uncle Steve again, I promise.” She glanced at Danny. “You’re staying for a little while, right?”

Danny hesitated, his throat tightening. His eyes flickered to Steve, who was watching him closely. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “For the weekend. Charlie has school on Monday, so…” Mary’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Charlie?”

“Yeah, he came with me. He’s, uh… outside somewhere, searching for a drink,” Danny explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

Mary’s expression softened, her lips pressing together. “Oh. That’s good.” She glanced toward the door like she could see through it, then turned back to Danny. “Well, let’s go see if we can find him.” Joanie gave one last reluctant look at Danny before allowing Mary to lead her out. The door clicked shut behind them, and just like that, the room fell quiet again.

Too quiet.

Danny exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw before slowly settling into the chair beside Steve’s bed.

Steve shifted slightly, careful with his movements, but the smirk on his lips told Danny he was about to be insufferable. “You were really, really worried about me, huh?”

Danny groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

Steve smirked, voice still hoarse but teasing. “Nope.”

Danny exhaled sharply, sinking back into the chair. “Yeah, well. You scared the hell out of me.” The words came out softer, rougher, settling between them with a weight that neither of them knew what to do with.

Steve’s smirk faded, his expression unreadable. “I know.”

Danny swallowed hard, looking away. “Just—don’t do that again, alright?”

Steve didn’t answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more careful. “I’ll try.”

Danny nodded slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Good.”

The silence that followed wasn’t tense, wasn’t heavy. It was… something else. Something tentative but familiar. Something that didn’t hurt as much as before. Danny let out a slow breath, glancing toward the door where Mary and Joanie had left. “Only a week, and she’s different,” he muttered.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. She talks about you.”

Danny’s chest tightened, his fingers twitching against his thigh. “Yeah?”

Steve nodded again. “Missed you.”

Danny exhaled, leaning back. “I missed her too.”

He hesitated, then looked back at Steve. He wasn’t ready to say everything, wasn’t ready to open that door entirely. But maybe… he could start.

“I missed a lot of things,” Danny admitted quietly.

Steve’s gaze met his, something warm, something steady. “Me too.”

There was a pause, a quiet moment stretching between them. Then, with an almost hesitant movement, Steve shifted his hand toward Danny, not quite reaching, but offering.

Danny looked at it, his chest tightening at how easy it would be to take it. How familiar it would feel. He’d held Steve’s hand non-stop when he was unconscious, so why did it feel so complicated now?

After a second, he let out a quiet breath and reached forward, their fingers brushing before settling together. Steve’s palm was warm, his grip light but steady.

Danny perched himself on the extra space beside Steve’s bed, careful, cautious not to hurt him, but close enough that the distance didn’t feel so wide.

Steve glanced down at their joined hands, something easing in his posture, some of the tension draining from his body. The warmth of Danny’s touch seeped through him, steady and real, grounding in a way that nothing else had been.

Danny swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

Danny’s fingers twitched slightly, as if his body wasn’t sure what to do with this—this moment, this touch, this damn feeling pressing against his ribs like a weight he couldn’t shake. It felt fragile, too fragile, like one wrong move would shatter it into something they couldn’t fix.

But he didn’t let go.

Instead, he let his thumb brush over the back of Steve’s hand, just barely, a slow, deliberate movement. A reassurance. A confirmation. A silent I’m here.

Steve’s breath hitched, so quiet it was almost imperceptible, but Danny felt it—felt it in the way Steve’s grip didn’t tighten but didn’t let go either. Like he was holding onto something he hadn’t thought he’d get back.

Danny swallowed hard, looking away. His eyes landed on the monitors, on the steady beeping of Steve’s heart rate, on the IV drip still running into his arm. He hated hospitals. Hated the sterile smell, the way the walls seemed to trap memories, the way every damn machine was a reminder of how close Steve had come—how close he always came—to slipping through his fingers.

He exhaled slowly, trying to push back the thoughts, but they clawed at him anyway. The sight of Steve bleeding out, his breath shallow, his grip weak. The desperation in Danny’s own voice as he begged him to hold on, to stay, to not leave him again.

And now Steve was here, alive, warm, real—and holding his hand like he needed the grounding just as much as Danny did.

A quiet sigh escaped Steve, something almost relieved, and Danny felt him relax even more. It was subtle—the slight easing of his shoulders, the way the tension that always sat in his jaw lessened.
He wasn’t just resting; he was letting go, even if only a little.

Danny wondered how long it had been since Steve had let himself do that. Then Steve spoke, his voice calm, measured, like he was trying not to scare Danny off. “I remember, you know.”

Danny frowned slightly, his thumb stilling against Steve’s hand. “Remember what?”

Steve’s fingers twitched against his. “I know I didn’t dream it.” His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “I remember… when I got shot, you were holding me.” He swallowed, searching Danny’s gaze. “And you talked me into life.”

Danny felt something deep in his chest tighten, an ache so familiar it almost felt like muscle memory.

Steve’s eyes locked onto his, unwavering, steady. “I know, Danny. I know you said those things while I was dying on you… but did you—” his voice was quieter now, more careful, “—did you mean it?”
Danny’s breath caught, his pulse kicking up like he’d just been yanked back to that moment—back to the panic, the blood, the sheer terror of losing Steve.

It was all right there, just beneath the surface. The memory of Steve’s weight against him, the desperate pressure of his hands against the wound, too much blood, too fast. The way Steve had gasped for air, chest rattling, those usually sharp, determined eyes going unfocused, slipping into something terrifyingly empty.

Danny had begged. Pleaded, really. His voice breaking, raw with the kind of desperation he had never let himself feel before.

"Just stay with me. You hear me, babe? Just hold on. You hold on for me, okay?"

His hands had been slick, fingers slipping as he tried to keep Steve’s life from spilling between them. He remembered every second. The tremble in his own voice, the way his breath had come fast and sharp, chest heaving like he could barely hold himself together.

"You owe me three years, you hear me? Three goddamn years of my life you just up and took, so you don’t get to leave me again."

The words had fallen out of him, unchecked, bare and raw in a way he hadn't allowed himself to be since the moment Steve walked away. Since the moment he had chosen distance over them. But in that moment, when Steve had been fading, when Danny had felt that grip on life slipping...

None of it had mattered anymore. The hurt, the silence, the unresolved mess between them—it had all crumbled in the face of losing him for good.

"We can fix this, babe. I swear. We can—we can go back. We can have all of it. You, me, the kids—we can have a life, Steve. A real one. You just gotta hold on for me, okay?"

The words had come in a rush, promises, confessions, everything he had bitten back for three years spilling out into the air between them. Because what else was there? What else could he say when Steve was dying on him?

"I love you. You don’t get to leave me without knowing that, you stubborn animal!"

And now, here they were. Steve alive. Awake. Looking at him with an intensity that burned.

Danny tried—really tried—to shove it all back down. To lock it away, push it into the box where he kept things he wasn’t ready to deal with. The things that made his chest ache, that made his hands shake.

But it was Steve.

And Steve was watching him, waiting. Needing to know.

Danny licked his lips, his grip tightening slightly around Steve’s fingers before he could stop himself. A reflex. A habit he hadn’t broken. He could lie. Could brush it off with a joke, something easy, something deflective. He was good at that—hell, he’d mastered that. But not now. Not when Steve was looking at him like he could see through every excuse before Danny even had a chance to make one.

Danny exhaled slowly, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “I—” He hesitated, his throat working, the words heavy before they finally fell. “Yeah, I meant it.”

Steve didn’t react at first. He just held Danny’s gaze, searching—for what, Danny didn’t know. Reassurance? Proof? Something to tell him that those words hadn’t just been a desperate lie in the middle of a battlefield?

Then, slowly, something in his eyes softened. His fingers twitched against Danny’s, hesitating, like he wanted to hold on tighter but wasn’t sure if he should.

Danny let him.

He wasn’t sure what the hell that meant, wasn’t sure what any of this meant, but he didn’t pull away. Not this time.

Steve swallowed, voice quieter now. “You never said anything.”

Danny let out a soft, breathless laugh, shaking his head. “You were gone. What was I supposed to do? Call you up and leave it on your voicemail?” His jaw tensed, something sharp and bitter twisting in his chest. “Hell, you never said anything either.”

Steve winced slightly, whether from pain or the words, Danny wasn’t sure. But he nodded once, acknowledging it. “I know.”

The room was too quiet, too heavy. Three years of distance, silence, and unsaid things stretched between them, filling the space even as they sat just inches apart.

Danny exhaled, his fingers unconsciously tightening around Steve’s. Grounding himself. “You scared the hell out of me, Steve,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was losing you. Again.” His throat clenched, and he let his gaze drop to their joined hands, to the way Steve’s fingers curled against his own. “I don’t—I can’t—” He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna do that again.”

Steve’s grip did tighten then, strong and steady. His voice was just as rough, just as quiet. “You won’t have to.”

Danny scoffed, shaking his head. “You say that, but let’s be real, McGarrett. You’ve had more lives than a damn cat, and somehow, you keep using them up.”

Steve’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smirk. “Yeah, well. Maybe I’ve finally learned my lesson.”

Danny arched a brow, shifting slightly on the bed. “Yeah? And what lesson is that?”

Steve met his gaze, his expression unreadable for a beat. Then, softly, honestly “That I don’t wanna do this without you.”

Danny’s breath stopped.

The words hung between them, fragile and unsteady, but real.

Steve exhaled slowly, fingers twitching again. “I thought—I thought I could. That leaving would fix things, that putting distance between us would make it easier.” His jaw clenched, voice dropping lower. “But it didn’t. It just… made everything worse.”

Danny’s heart was hammering, a rhythm he wasn’t sure he liked. Too fast. Too uncertain.

He swallowed hard. “Yeah, well… welcome to the club.”

Steve’s lips quirked slightly, but his eyes stayed serious. Warm. Steady. Open.

Danny shifted, his thumb brushing over Steve’s knuckles without thinking. “I don’t know what to do with this, man.” Steve nodded, exhaling. “Me neither.”

Silence stretched again, but this time, it wasn’t sharp edges and unsaid things.

It was something else.

Something waiting.

Danny sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before meeting Steve’s gaze again. “But I think we lost enough time, huh?”

Steve’s fingers tightened just a little more. “Yeah. Too much.”

Danny swallowed, nodding slowly. “So… what do we do now?”

Steve let out a quiet breath, gaze steady, unreadable for a long moment. Then, finally—soft, sure—

“We stop wasting it.”

Danny let out a slow exhale, letting the weight of those words settle between them.

Steve wasn’t wrong. They’d wasted time. Too much time.

Time spent pretending, deflecting, pushing things aside because it was easier than admitting what was right in front of them. Because it was safer. But safe hadn’t kept them from ending up here.

Danny glanced down at their joined hands, Steve’s grip still firm, still steady despite exhaustion clinging to him. He gave a small, lopsided smirk, shaking his head. “You know, for once, I think I actually agree with you.”

Steve huffed out a breath—something close to a laugh. “That a first?”

Danny rolled his eyes, but his thumb absently stroked against Steve’s skin. “Don’t push it, Steven.”

Steve didn’t let go. Neither did Danny.

Danny rolled his eyes, but his thumb absently stroked against Steve’s skin. The moment settled between them, quieter now, but no less heavy.

For the first time in a long time, there were no walls between them, no well-placed deflections or half-truths. Just this—an understanding. A choice.

Danny huffed out a breath, then finally let go of Steve’s hand, standing up. His fingers lingered for just a second longer than necessary before he pulled away, curling his hand into a loose fist at his side like he could still feel the warmth of Steve’s skin.

“Right. Well, first step—you need to rest.” His voice came out gruff, lined with something he didn’t quite know what to do with. He pointed at Steve, voice full of mock authority. “No more deep, life-altering conversations while you’re still recovering from, you know, almost dying.”

Steve smirked, tired but real. It wasn’t the sharp, teasing thing it used to be, but it was there. And God, it had been too long since Danny had seen that look. Since he’d seen Steve like this—alive, here, with him.

“Noted,” Steve said, voice rough but lighter than before.

Danny rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he took a step toward the door. “I’m gonna go find Charlie before he charms his way into free snacks from some unsuspecting nurse.”

Steve let out a small laugh—small but real, and Danny swore he felt it settle somewhere deep in his chest. “Thanks, Danny,” Steve said after a beat, voice softer now. “For bringing him with you.” His gaze flickered, something warm behind it. “It’s really nice to see him, you know?”

Danny hesitated for just a second before offering a small, lopsided smile. “Yeah, well, I can’t say no to that kid.”

Steve hummed, his head resting back against the pillow, exhaustion starting to pull at him now that the weight of their conversation had settled.

A quiet pause stretched between them, something lighter in the air, something easier than before. And maybe it was stupid, maybe it was too much, too soon, but...

Danny shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, uh—” He exhaled, forcing himself to just say it. “Charlie and I, we’re, uh… we’re crashing at the ranch for the weekend. That cool with you?”

Steve blinked, surprise flickering across his face for half a second before something softer, something brighter took over. His lips curved into a small, genuine smile, the kind that Danny hadn’t seen in years, the kind that hit him straight in the ribs.

Steve nodded, voice quiet but sure. “Of course. It’s your home too.”

Danny froze.

Stopped breathing, stopped moving, stopped everything. Because it was so much, and so simple, all at once. Because Steve had said it like it was obvious. Like it had always been true. Like Danny should’ve known, like he never should’ve questioned it.

Danny swallowed, his throat tight, his heartbeat a little too fast, a little too uneven. He didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to hold all of it at once.

So, instead, he just nodded—short, sharp, like it was nothing. Like it didn’t feel like everything.

Danny turned back, his hand on the doorknob. His voice was quieter this time, the weight of everything still pressing against his ribs. “You good?”

Steve met his gaze, the softness still there, the exhaustion creeping in, but the honesty, too. The thing that hadn’t been there for three years. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I’m good.”

Danny stood there for a beat longer than he should have, something unspoken hanging between them, stretching just enough to feel like a bridge instead of a canyon.

He nodded, once, and turned, stepping out into the hallway, his heart still racing with everything that had just been said.

Everything that had finally been acknowledged.

The cool hospital air hit him as he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. His pulse was still uneven, his body still wired in a way he wasn’t ready to unpack.

But for the first time in three years, he felt like maybe, they weren’t as lost as he thought, and it felt good.

-

Chapter 28: 28

Danny and Charlie arrived at the ranch as the late afternoon light stretched long shadows across the snow-covered fields. The air was crisp, carrying the familiar scent of pine and wood smoke, and despite the quiet weight pressing against his ribs, Danny found himself exhaling a little easier as they pulled into the driveway.

Charlie was practically bouncing in his seat, torn between excitement at seeing the ranch for the first time and the lingering sadness of having to leave Steve behind at the hospital. Danny had explained everything on the drive, keeping his voice neutral, just relaying the facts Steve had told him—the same ones Danny himself had learned barely a week and a half ago.

Steve had been here. Alone. Building this place up from the ground, thinking of them, making space for a life he never actually reached out for. The weight of that truth sat heavy in Danny’s chest as he parked the car.

Charlie glanced up at the house, eyes wide with curiosity. "So this is where Uncle Steve has been hiding?"

Danny snorted, ruffling his kid’s hair. "Something like that, yeah. Hiding, brooding, chopping wood like a damn mountain man. Take your pick."

Charlie grinned, but there was something thoughtful in the way he looked at the house. "And he made a room for me here?"

Danny hesitated, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter before nodding. "Yeah, buddy. He did."

Charlie blinked, clearly processing that, before a slow smile spread across his face. "Cool."

Danny let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. "Yeah, it’s…Cool."

They stepped inside, the house quiet except for the occasional crackle from the fireplace. The warmth of the place seeped into Danny’s skin, familiar now after having spent time here before. The faint scent of cedar and something unmistakably Steve lingered in the air, grounding in a way Danny wasn’t ready to examine too closely.

Charlie wandered ahead, kicking off his shoes and taking in everything with wide eyes. "It’s bigger than I thought."

Danny smirked, setting their bags down. "Yeah, well, your Uncle Steve doesn’t do things small."

Charlie wandered into the living room, looking at the fireplace, the heavy wooden beams overhead. Danny watched him, his stomach twisting slightly. He wasn’t sure how Charlie was going to react
when he actually saw the room Steve had made for him. It had been a shock to Danny when Steve had first shown him—walking him through the space, explaining every little detail he had planned with Charlie in mind.

Danny had barely known what to do with that. And now, bringing Charlie here for the first time, without Steve standing beside him to explain it… Danny felt that same uncertainty creeping in.

Charlie turned back toward him, rubbing his arms against the chill still lingering in the house. "Can I see my room?"

Danny nodded, clearing his throat. "Yeah, come on."

They made their way upstairs, Danny leading him to the blue-painted room at the middle of the hall. Pushing the door open, he stepped aside, letting Charlie take it in.

Charlie’s eyes widened as he looked around, taking in the bed, the shelves, the small desk by the window. His hands skimmed over the bookshelf, pausing at the neatly arranged space, before he turned back to Danny. "He really made this for me?"

Danny nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, kid. He did."

Charlie looked around again, quieter this time, like he was really letting it sink in. He sat down on the bed, bouncing slightly before glancing up. "It's kinda weird."

Danny’s stomach twisted. "Weird how?"

Charlie shrugged, rubbing his fingers over the edge of the blanket. "I don’t know. Just… knowing he thought about me. About all of us. But he never said anything." He frowned slightly, thinking. "Do you think he was scared we’d say no?"

Danny swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the simplicity of the question. "I think… yeah, maybe. I think he was scared of a lot of things, buddy."

Charlie was quiet for a long moment before he nodded, his small fingers picking absently at a loose thread on the blanket. "I still wish he was here."

Danny exhaled, stepping further into the room and ruffling Charlie’s hair. "Yeah, me too, kid."

Charlie nodded again, then yawned, rubbing his eyes. The excitement of the day was finally catching up to him.

Danny nudged him gently toward the pillows. "Get some rest. We’ll go see him again soon." Charlie didn’t argue, just crawled under the blankets, settling in without hesitation. Danny stood there for a moment, watching him, before turning to step out of the room. "Hey, Dad?" Danny paused, glancing back.

Charlie’s voice was quieter now, softer. "I think Uncle Steve wants to come home. He just doesn’t know how."

Danny’s breath caught in his throat, but he forced a small smile. "Yeah, buddy. I think you might be right."

Charlie hummed, brushing his fingers absently over the blankets, his mind clearly working through something. Danny lingered in the doorway for a second longer, debating whether to let him be or keep talking.

Instead, he cleared his throat and gestured toward the end of the hall. “The next door here,” he said, tapping the wooden frame, “it’s Gracie’s.” Then, turning slightly, he pointed to the other door across from it. “And this one? This is Steve’s.”

He bit his lip, already sensing the question forming in Charlie’s head before it even left his mouth. He knew his kid too well—knew the way those gears turned, the way curiosity and logic danced together in that sharp little brain of his. Danny tried to head it off, shifting slightly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I can show them to you if you want.”

Charlie nodded, pushing the blankets aside and hopping off the bed with quiet excitement. He followed Danny down the hall, small feet padding softly against the wooden floors as Danny pushed open the door to Grace’s room.

The green walls made the space feel warm, vibrant but calming at the same time. The furniture, the thoughtful little details—everything about it screamed Gracie, even though she’d never stepped foot in this house.

Charlie wandered in, taking it all in with an appraising look before nodding to himself. “Grace would love it,” he said, thoughtful, his voice softer now.

Danny let out a small huff, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Yeah, I think so too… not that I think she’ll see it one day.”

Charlie let out a small laugh at that, surprising Danny enough to make him frown lightly in question. Charlie grinned at him, shaking his head. “She’s pretty mad at Uncle Steve. She sure will not take very well that he’s back after everything.”

Danny let out a small, amused scoff, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, kid. I know.” He half-smiled, half-grimaced, already picturing the inevitable McGarrett-gets-ripped-a-new-one moment that would absolutely happen if Gracie ever did show up here.

Closing the door behind them, Danny led Charlie to the next room—Steve’s. He hesitated for only a second before twisting the knob and pushing it open. The room was exactly the same as the last time he’d seen it—warm, lived-in, undeniably Steve.

And then, of course, came the question.

Charlie tilted his head, frowning slightly as he looked between Steve’s room and Danny. “And yours?”

Danny’s breath hitched. He hadn’t been ready for that. He’d been expecting it, sure, but being ready? That was a different thing entirely.

He looked around, searching for some plausible answer, something that wouldn’t feel like a lie but also wouldn’t open doors he wasn’t sure he wanted to open yet. He felt trapped for a second, words sticking in his throat, until finally, without really thinking, he blurted, “You’re looking at it.”

His pulse jumped as he braced himself for Charlie’s reaction.

Charlie stared at him for a long moment, then at the room, as if processing the meaning behind those words. Then, in typical Charlie Williams-Fuckin’-McGarrett fashion, he just nodded once and patted Danny on the arm. “Good,” he said simply. Then, just like that, he turned and walked back to his room, leaving Danny standing there, bewildered.

Danny let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, staring at the now-empty hallway like it held the answers to whatever the hell had just happened.

Good?

That was it?

Danny let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand down his face. “Yeah, okay,” he muttered to himself, turning back toward the stairs. “I’ll, uh… I’ll make something to eat.” His voice carried down the hall, but Charlie had already disappeared into his room.

Danny made his way downstairs, his mind still running a mile a minute.

This place had been Steve’s for years. It had been where he ran, where he built something new, where he let himself exist away from all the ghosts he’d left behind.

But now?

Now Charlie was here. Now he was here.

And maybe, this place wasn’t just Steve’s anymore.

Maybe, somehow, it was theirs too.

-

Danny moved through the kitchen on autopilot, opening cabinets, checking the fridge, his hands moving with a familiar ease even though this wasn’t his space—not really, anyway.

The fridge was decently stocked. That was new. A week ago, when Danny had first shown up here, Steve had barely had anything in there besides a carton of eggs, some milk, and a depressing-looking takeout container shoved in the back.

Now, there were fresh vegetables, leftovers in Tupperware, actual groceries that suggested someone had been thinking ahead.

Mary, probably.

Danny sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before grabbing what he needed. He could cook something quick—something easy for him and Charlie to eat before heading back to the hospital.

He pulled out some eggs and cheese, grabbed a pan, and started making omelets, letting the quiet of the house settle around him. The fire crackled in the living room, the sound of logs shifting in the heat filling the silence. Upstairs, he could hear the faint creak of floorboards as Charlie moved around, settling in.

Danny exhaled slowly, leaning against the counter for a second, staring at the flames licking the edges of the logs in the fireplace.

This house felt different now.

A week ago, it had felt like Steve’s hideout, like a place built to be solitary—stoic and closed off, just like the man himself. But now, with Charlie’s presence upstairs, with Mary and Joanie’s laughter still lingering in the space, with Danny himself standing here cooking like it was normal—

It felt less like an escape and more like a home. Danny wasn’t sure what to do with that thought.

He shook his head, pushing it away as he turned his attention back to cooking.

A few minutes later, Charlie trudged downstairs, hair still damp from the shower, his socks making soft shhhk sounds against the wooden floor. He plopped down onto one of the stools at the kitchen island, resting his chin in his hand as he watched Danny work. “What’re you making?”

“Omelets,” Danny said, flicking the pan to keep the eggs from sticking. “Cheese, no weird vegetables, just how you like it.” Charlie hummed, clearly pleased. “Nice.”

Danny smirked, plating the food and sliding a plate in front of Charlie before grabbing his own and sitting down beside him.

For a few minutes, they just ate in comfortable silence, the warmth of the fire and the solid weight of being here settling over them.

Then, casually, Charlie asked, “So… we’re staying here all weekend, right?”

Danny glanced at him. “That a problem?”

Charlie shook his head. “No.” He poked at his food with his fork. “I like it here.” Danny’s stomach twisted—not in a bad way, but in a way that made something settle heavy in his chest. He wasn’t sure why it hit him like that. Maybe because Charlie had never been here before, had never stepped foot on this ranch until today. Maybe because, despite everything, despite the distance, despite the mess, Charlie had still looked at this place and liked it.

Or maybe because, for the first time, Danny was letting himself think about what that actually meant.

He exhaled, staring down at his plate. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I like it too.”

Charlie nodded like he already knew that, like it was obvious, and went back to eating.

Danny let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. Smart kid.

After they finished, Danny rinsed the plates, setting them in the sink before checking the time.

They had a little while before heading back to the hospital. Enough time for Charlie to explore a little if he wanted.

Danny hesitated before asking, “Wanna see more of the place?” Charlie brightened instantly. “Yeah!” Danny smirked, ruffling his hair. “Alright, finish up, then we’ll take a look around.”
Charlie practically inhaled the rest of his food, hopping off the stool as soon as he was done.

Danny grabbed their jackets, tossing Charlie’s to him before shrugging into his own.

The cold hit them the second they stepped outside, crisp and sharp, but the air was fresh, clean, the sky stretching wide and endless above them. Charlie took it all in, eyes scanning the landscape, his breath fogging in front of him. “It’s huge,” he murmured.

Danny smirked. “Yeah. Steve doesn’t do anything small.”

Charlie snorted. “No kidding.”

-

Danny watched as Charlie walked ahead, taking in the ranch with quiet curiosity. His son had a way of adapting, of absorbing things at his own pace before making up his mind, and apparently, he’d already decided—he liked it here.

That thought settled in Danny’s chest, warm and unexpected. He hadn’t realized how much he needed Charlie’s reaction to this place, how much he’d been dreading hesitation or resistance. But no, Charlie had accepted it with an ease that Danny wasn’t sure he could manage himself.

Maybe that was the difference between them. Charlie hadn’t been carrying the weight of the last three years the way Danny had. He hadn’t spent countless nights fighting the bitterness, the confusion, the ache of missing someone who had chosen to disappear.

But Danny had. And standing here now, looking at the place Steve had built, the place he had clearly made with them in mind, he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

Charlie, of course, didn’t have the same problem.

“I wish I could stay longer,” he murmured, kicking at the ground lightly, his voice thoughtful.

Danny glanced down at him, exhaling. “Yeah? You like it that much?”

Charlie nodded without hesitation. “It’s nice here.” Then, after a beat, quieter, “It feels like home.”

Danny’s breath hitched. He hadn’t expected that, hadn’t realized just how much Charlie had felt Steve’s absence, had missed this kind of connection with him. But, of course, he had.

Danny cleared his throat, ruffling a hand through Charlie’s hair to buy himself a second. “Well, maybe we can come back sometime,” he offered, keeping his tone easy. Charlie grinned, bright and sure. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Danny let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. This kid.

They stepped up onto the porch, the warmth of the house greeting them as they walked in. The fire Steve had built before they left was still crackling, filling the space with a soft, golden glow. The house smelled faintly of pine, wood smoke, and something undeniably Steve—clean, simple, steady.

Danny sighed, rolling his shoulders as he hung up their coats. His body was still catching up, processing everything—what this place meant, what Steve had done, what they were even doing here.
Charlie stretched, yawning as he climbed onto the couch, getting comfortable. His energy from earlier was fading, the weight of the day settling in.

Danny gave him a look. “You tired?”

Charlie made a so-so motion with his hand, but his head was already sinking into the couch pillow.

Danny smirked. “Yeah, okay, kid. Why don’t you rest for a bit?”

Charlie hummed, already halfway there. But then, blinking up at Danny, he asked, “We’re gonna go back to see Uncle Steve, right?” Danny smiled “Yeah buddy, tomorrow.”
Charlie nodded, satisfied. “Good.”

Danny’s chest tightened. He reached out, squeezing Charlie’s ankle lightly. “Goodnight, kiddo.” Charlie smiled sleepily before rolling onto his side, his breathing evening out.

Danny lingered for a moment, just watching him. Then, taking a slow breath, he turned toward the door.

-

Chapter 29: 29

-
By the time they reached the hospital, the morning had stretched into early afternoon. Danny and Charlie had stopped on the way, picking up sandwiches for lunch—because if there was one thing Danny knew for certain, it was that hospital food was garbage, and Steve needed real food if he was ever going to get his strength back.

When they entered the room, they found Mary and Joanie already there. Joanie was sitting happily on Steve’s lap—or as close to his lap as his injuries allowed—while Mary sat on the chair beside the bed, watching them both with an amused smile.

“Finally,” Mary teased as she saw Danny and Charlie step in. “I was beginning to think you got lost.”

Danny scoffed, placing the food on the bedside table. “You know, Montana’s got a lot of open space. I could’ve left you stranded in all that nothingness, and nobody would ever find you.”

Mary smirked. “You wish.”

Charlie barely even noticed their banter, already climbing up onto the bed beside Steve, his eyes bright. “Did you wait for us to eat?”

Steve chuckled, ruffling Charlie’s hair. “Course I did, kid. Can’t eat without the whole crew here.”

Danny snorted. “Oh yeah? That some new McGarrett family rule?”

Steve shot him a look, and for once, there was no tension behind it—just something warm. Something easy.

They all sat together, eating their sandwiches, passing around napkins, and just being. The conversation flowed naturally—light, happy. Mary filled them in on Joanie’s latest antics, Charlie talked about the ranch, and Steve… Steve just listened, content in a way Danny hadn’t seen in years.

At some point, Joanie started getting drowsy, her little head nodding against Mary’s shoulder.

“Alright, time for a nap, kiddo,” Mary murmured, standing and shifting Joanie into her arms.

Joanie made a sleepy noise of protest but didn’t fight it too hard.

“We’re gonna head back to the ranch,” Mary said, adjusting Joanie against her. She glanced between Danny and Steve. “You two good?”

Danny waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. We got it covered.”

Steve gave her a small nod. “Thanks for coming, Mare.”

Mary’s expression softened. She leaned down, pressing a light kiss to the top of his head. “Anytime, big brother.”

Then, with one last glance at Danny, she left.

And just like that, it was just the three of them.

Charlie, still settled close to Steve, was the first to break the silence.

“I missed you, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter than before.

Steve looked at him, and this time—there was no teasing, no playful smirk. Just guilt. Deep and heavy, sitting behind his eyes like a weight he couldn’t shake.
“I know,” Steve murmured. His fingers twitched slightly against the blankets. “I missed you too, kiddo.”

Charlie nodded, his face serious, as if he was weighing something in his head.

Danny could feel the shift, the weight of what was coming.

So he made a decision “I’m gonna go find a coffee machine,” he announced, standing. He caught Steve’s gaze for half a second—silent understanding passing between them.
He was giving them a moment.

Then, before either of them could argue, he stepped out.

Charlie stayed where he was, fingers idly brushing the edge of the blankets.

“I really liked it, you know,” he said after a moment. “The ranch. It’s amazing. I love all that space, the calm…” He hesitated, then smirked. “All the wood.”
Steve huffed a quiet laugh, a real laugh, and Charlie grinned at the sound.

But then his expression shifted—more hesitant now. “Dad says…” Charlie hesitated, glancing down at his hands before looking back up at Steve. “Dad says you made the blue room for me.”

Steve met his gaze, something unreadable flickering across his face.
“Yeah, Charlie,” he said, his voice steady but soft. “It’s your room. Whenever you want to come, it’s your home too.”

Charlie’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers curling slightly against the blankets.

“Well… if your dad’s okay with it, of course,” Steve added, like an afterthought. Like a lifeline.

Charlie nodded a few times, seemingly holding back something—some emotion too big for him to name. But despite his best efforts, his eyes filled with tears, and before he could stop them, they slipped down his cheeks.

Steve’s heart clenched. “Charlie…”

Charlie ducked his head, staring hard at his hands. “Why did you leave us?” he asked, voice breaking on the last word.

Steve felt his breath hitch, his chest tighten with a different kind of pain.

"Why did you leave me?" Charlie's voice was thick with emotion now—raw and aching. "Why did you leave, Dad? We were family. You were like my other dad, my hero, and then one day you were just… gone. No reason. No goodbye. I felt so lost, so sad."

Tears streamed down his face now, unchecked, unhidden.

“And Danno…” Charlie sniffed, rubbing at his eyes. “He was so hurt. He didn’t want us to see it, but I knew. He did whatever he could to keep going for me and Gracie, but he was shattered.” His voice wavered. “And then…”

A sob wracked through him, and Steve felt his heart break.

“Charlie,” he murmured, his voice thick. “Come here, kiddo.”

Charlie hesitated, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

Steve reached out, his hand shaking slightly from exhaustion, but determined. “Come here,” he said again, more firmly this time.

Charlie moved. Carefully, gently, he curled into Steve’s side, mindful of his injuries.

And Steve held him. He held him as tight as he could—one arm wrapped around the kid, grounding them both in the moment.
“I’m so sorry, Charlie,” Steve whispered into his hair. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt any of you.” His throat burned, his chest aching with everything he couldn’t take back. “I had nothing but love for you. For all of you. And I still do.”

Charlie let out another quiet sniffle, his body relaxing slightly against Steve’s. “You could’ve called,” he mumbled. “Or come back.”

Steve exhaled shakily. “I know, son. I know. But I… I didn’t know how. I didn’t know if you guys even wanted me to come back. And I was… I was scared, Charlie.” His voice dropped. “Scared that something could happen to you all because of me. Scared that I had ruined everything. That there was nothing left of us—of our family—because of me.”

Charlie pulled back slightly, wiping at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Dad is right,” he muttered.

Steve frowned slightly. “About what?”

Charlie sniffled, then looked up at him, a deadpan expression on his face. “You’re an idiot sometimes.”

Steve blinked.

Then, unexpectedly, uncontrollably he laughed. A real, genuine laugh, startled right out of him.

Charlie, despite the lingering wetness in his eyes, giggled too.

“Yeah,” Steve admitted, still chuckling. “Yeah, well. Your dad does tend to be right about a lot of things.”

They sat like that for a moment longer, the tension easing, the weight lifting just a little.

Then, quieter, more tentative… “Can I have a hug?” Steve asked.

Charlie didn’t hesitate. Without a word, he leaned back in, wrapping his arms around Steve as gently as he could.

And Steve held him close. “I love you, Charlie,” Steve murmured. “Always.”

Charlie’s voice was quiet but certain. “Love you too, Uncle Steve.”

Danny re-entered the room, coffee in hand, only to stop short at the sight in front of him.

Charlie was curled up next to Steve, still tucked close in a way that made Danny’s chest tighten with something he didn’t want to name. Steve looked tired—red-eyed, exhausted even—but there was something else in his expression too. A softness. Something lighter than before.

Danny’s gaze flickered between them, instinct kicking in. “Everything okay in here?” he asked, his voice laced with quiet concern as he stepped further inside.

Charlie straightened up at the sound of his voice, slowly pulling back from Steve’s side. His movements were reluctant, like he wasn’t quite ready to put distance between them yet.
“Yeah,” Charlie said, his voice steady, but there was a lingering warmth in his tone that hadn’t been there before. “We’re good, Danno.”

Danny let out a slow breath of relief—until his eyes landed on Charlie’s face. The telltale redness around his eyes, the slight dampness clinging to his lashes. Danny’s chest tightened again, this time with something else.

His breath hitched slightly.

Charlie had been crying.

Danny’s grip on the coffee cup tightened, his gaze flickering immediately to Steve. His expression hardened—not in anger, but in pure, unchecked concern. “You sure?” Danny asked, his voice dropping slightly as his eyes moved between them.

Steve, still looking wiped but visibly more at ease, nodded. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now, but sure. “Everything’s fine, Danno.”

Danny exhaled, his fingers flexing around the cup before finally relaxing. He could see it now—the tension between them had settled, replaced by something more solid. More steady.

Steve turned toward Charlie, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “We just talked about some tough stuff. But we’re good now, right, kiddo?”

Charlie looked at him for a second, something unreadable flickering across his face. Then he nodded, smiling—really smiling. “Right.”

Danny’s breath eased out slowly. He wasn’t entirely sure what had been said while he was gone, but something had shifted. He could see it in the way Charlie’s shoulders weren’t so tight anymore, in the way Steve seemed settled in a way Danny hadn’t seen since before… everything.

Charlie finally shifted, moving further from Steve to give him some space, and of course Danny noticed the way Steve winced slightly as he tried to adjust himself.

Danny sighed, setting his coffee down on the bedside table. He didn’t even hesitate before stepping forward, hands already reaching to help. “Alright, take it easy,” he muttered, already fluffing the pillow behind Steve’s back and pulling the blanket up over him. “You’re supposed to be resting, not dancing in the damn bed.”

Steve smirked, his voice just the slightest bit hoarse. “Yes, Danno.”

Charlie snickered at that, and Danny’s heart kicked at the sound, at how light it was.

Danny shot Steve a look, shaking his head. “You’re insufferable.”

Steve just grinned, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion but still filled with something warm.

Danny sighed, settling into the chair beside the bed, finally picking up his coffee again.

He wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet. Not when this felt like something worth holding onto.

Danny settled back into the chair beside Steve’s bed, cradling his coffee between his hands as he watched Charlie settle into the seat across from him. The kid looked lighter, more at ease, even as he glanced between them like he was still soaking everything in.

Steve, for his part, wasn’t fighting exhaustion as well as he thought he was. His head rested slightly against the pillow Danny had adjusted, and his breaths were evening out like he was trying to fight off sleep but losing the battle fast.

Danny sipped at his coffee, letting the warmth seep through him before finally speaking, his voice low but not sharp. “You’re gonna pass out in the next five minutes, McGarrett.”
Steve cracked one eye open, smirking faintly. “Not a chance.”

Charlie snorted. “You literally just yawned, Uncle Steve.”

Steve groaned but didn’t argue, letting his eyes close again, his hand resting limply on his stomach. “Fine,” he murmured, voice already heavier with exhaustion. “Maybe a little tired.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no kidding. Maybe you should actually sleep for a change.”

Steve hummed but didn’t respond, his body already sinking further into the mattress.

Charlie shifted slightly, watching him closely. “Is he gonna be okay, Dad?”

Danny softened, taking in the sight of Steve resting—really resting—for the first time in what felt like forever. “Yeah, buddy,” he said, voice firm. “He’s gonna be okay.”

Charlie nodded, exhaling like that answer was enough. “Good.”

The room fell into a comfortable quiet after that, the only sounds being the steady beeping of Steve’s monitors and the occasional sip of Danny’s coffee.

Charlie curled his legs up under him on the chair, his head resting against the armrest, and before Danny even realized it, his kid was dozing too.

Danny sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he glanced between the two most stubborn people he knew—both of them finally still. His chest ached.

Three years ago, he would’ve given anything for this moment. For the simple quiet of just being together, for the weight of Charlie’s trust in Steve still being solid, for the way Steve was here—alive, healing, home.

He hadn’t let himself hope for it back then.

Now, sitting here, watching over them both, Danny realized he didn’t have to hope for it anymore.

Because it was real.

And for the first time in a long, long time, he didn’t feel the need to fight it—just to feel it, live it, be it.

Danny sat there for a long time, his coffee cooling in his hands as he watched the slow rise and fall of Steve’s chest, the way Charlie had curled up in the chair, peaceful in a way Danny hadn’t seen in a while. It was quiet—not just in the room, but in his head too.

For once, he wasn’t thinking ten steps ahead, wasn’t bracing for the next fight, the next hurt. He wasn’t stuck in the past or dreading the future. He was just here.
And here wasn’t so bad.

He let his head tip back against the chair, exhaling slowly, the warmth of the hospital room lulling him into something dangerously close to peace.

Which, of course, meant something had to interrupt it.

A knock at the door broke the silence, and Danny lifted his head, instinctively shifting forward in his chair. Steve stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Charlie blinked drowsily, rubbing at his eyes as the door eased open, and a doctor stepped inside, clipboard in hand. He was a middle-aged man, sharp-eyed but not unkind, the kind of guy who’d probably seen more than his fair share of stubborn patients
over the years. And knowing Steve? That probably put him firmly in the top ten most frustrating cases.

“Mr. McGarrett,” the doctor greeted, stepping closer to the bed. Steve blinked awake, groggy but aware, and immediately tried to shift upright.

Danny was already moving before Steve could get too far. “Whoa, no. Stay put.” He pushed Steve back against the pillows with a firm hand, ignoring the exasperated sigh that earned him, and let his hand rest on Steve’s arm, a reminder to not move, and a grounding touch.

The doctor smirked slightly but didn’t comment, just flipping through Steve’s chart. “Well, looks like you’re making solid progress. The wounds are healing well, no signs of infection, vitals are strong.”
He nodded approvingly. “I’d say we’re on track to discharge you in the next couple of days.”

Steve perked up instantly. “That’s great. When?”

Danny scoffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah, let’s not make plans until we hear the full details, okay, Steven?”

The doctor nodded. “He’s right. You will need to take it easy, and I mean actually take it easy. No overexertion, no unnecessary movement, and definitely no stunts.”
Danny smirked. “See? Told you.”

Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

The doctor continued, flipping another page. “We’ll do one last full check-up tomorrow. If everything looks good, you could be discharged as early as Sunday morning.”
Danny stilled, the weight of those words settling over him like a brick. Sunday morning.

By Sunday night, he and Charlie would be back on a plane to Hawaii.

Steve nodded, like he was settling something in his mind, then turned to the doctor. “So, recovery time?”

“Six to eight weeks before you’re fully back to normal,” the doctor answered. “But for the first two, you’ll need someone around consistently. Your body’s been through a lot, and you can’t afford to
push yourself.”

Steve nodded, but Danny could already see the gears turning in his head—figuring out how to bend the rules without breaking them outright.

Danny cleared his throat, forcing a smirk. “Don’t get any ideas, McGarrett. You’re gonna have Mary watching your ass every second of the day once you’re outta here.”

Steve exhaled, a small, amused smile flickering across his face. “Yeah. I figured.”

Danny felt the shift in that—the understanding. The quiet realization that Danny wasn’t going to be the one here for that. Not this time.

The doctor chuckled, clearly familiar with this kind of idiot energy. “I’ll go finalize some paperwork. One of the nurses will be by later to go over the discharge instructions. In the meantime—rest.”
He gave Danny a knowing look before stepping out.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Charlie leaned forward eagerly. “That’s awesome!”

Danny watched as Charlie got up and moved to sit next to Steve again, falling right back into his spot like he’d never left. Something deep settled in Danny’s chest—something good, something right.

But then Steve’s gaze flicked back to him. Danny knew what was coming before Steve even said it.
“You’re leaving Sunday.”

Danny exhaled, running a hand over his jaw. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Charlie’s got school.”

Steve nodded slowly, gaze unreadable. “Right.”

Silence stretched, not tense, but heavy with things unsaid.

Charlie, oblivious to the undercurrent, perked up. “But we’ll come back soon, right, Dad?”

Danny hesitated—only for a second.

Then he looked at Steve, then at Charlie, then back at Steve.

And finally, he said, “Yeah, buddy. We’ll come back.”

-

Charlie and Steve were talking—something about hiking, about the best trails in Montana, about which ones Steve would still be able to do once he was up and moving again.

Danny let them talk, let their voices blend into the background as his own mind wandered—because, yeah, this wasn’t sitting right with him.

Steve getting out of the hospital without Danny watching his ass? Without him playing mother hen and making sure he actually followed the doctor’s orders?

It didn’t sit well at all.

Every single time Steve had gotten himself nearly killed—because there had been too many times to count—Danny had been there. Patching him up, forcing him to rest, making sure he didn’t do something stupid before he was ready.

And now?

Even after three years apart, the instinct was still intact. He could feel it thrumming under his skin, something ingrained.

He needed to be there. He. Needed. It.

But how the hell was he supposed to do that?

He needed to go back to Hawaii. Charlie had school, Danny had work, had—well. Nothing else, really.

That was his life. His son, his job. Grace, when she was around, though that wasn’t often anymore.

But other than that?

Nothing really important.

And Steve?

Steve was important. Always had been. Always would be.

Then maybe… maybe he could do something about it.

Steve couldn’t travel yet—the doc said two weeks minimum of staying put, and a ten-hour plane ride was definitely not what the doctor meant by “take it easy.”

Then maybe… maybe Danny could come back.

He could go home first. Make sure Charlie was set, let him stay with Rachel for a couple of weeks. Then he could come back here. Take care of his infuriating, impossible, reckless, pain-in-the-ass best friend.

It felt almost too simple in his head. Of course, there were details to figure out, adjustments to be made.

But why not? It made sense.

It made so much damn sense.

Danny was so lost in thought that when Charlie asked something, he completely missed it. He blinked, snapping out of it to find both Steve and Charlie staring at him expectantly.

Steve looked amused but also curious, a question held in his eyes—because he knew. He knew Danny had been lost in his head. And Steve, being Steve, was gonna want to know what the hell he’d been thinking about.

Danny exhaled, shifting in his seat. Time to deflect.

He smirked, leaning forward, flicking Charlie’s ear lightly. “What, you two ganging up on me now? Did I miss a whole conspiracy?”

Charlie giggled, and Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t let go of whatever silent question he had.

Danny bickered, threw out a few sarcastic remarks to buy himself time, but he knew one thing for sure—

He was gonna have to figure this out.

And at some point—probably sooner rather than later—he was gonna have to talk to Steve about it.

-

Chapter 30: 30

-
Danny let the thought settle, rolling it over in his mind as the conversation between Steve and Charlie continued around him. He wasn't sure how to bring it up yet, wasn't sure if he should—because hell, Steve might not even want him here.

But... yeah. He needed to be here.

Danny had spent the last three years pretending he didn’t care, pretending he was fine, pretending that Steve walking out of his life hadn’t left a wound he couldn’t quite stitch back together. He had done a damn good job of convincing himself that he had moved on.

Except sitting here, in this hospital room, watching Steve and Charlie talk like no time had passed, feeling this, he knew he had never actually moved on.

He had just been waiting.

Waiting for something, anything, to make it make sense again.

Maybe this was it.

Maybe choosing to come back to him—to this, to them—despite everything wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

Steve must have caught something in his expression, because when Danny looked back at him, he was still watching, still waiting for whatever had been brewing in Danny’s head to come out.

But Steve didn’t push. Not yet.

Instead, he shifted slightly in the bed, exhaling tiredly.

Danny took that as his cue. It was late afternoon, and Steve needed to rest. Tomorrow would be a big day if he was discharged and could finally go home. He needed a solid night’s sleep before that.

With a sigh, Danny pushed himself up from his chair, stretching slightly before turning to his son. “Alright, buddy. We should let Uncle Steve get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”
Charlie immediately frowned, clearly not happy about the idea of leaving. He looked between Danny and Steve, his expression set in stubborn lines. “Can’t I stay a little longer?”

Danny felt something twist in his chest. Neither do I, kid.

Steve smiled softly, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. “I’ll see you first thing in the morning, Charlie. Promise.”

Charlie exhaled, then nodded reluctantly. “Okay.” He leaned forward, wrapping his small arms around Steve’s middle in a careful but tight hug. “Good night, Uncle Steve.”

Steve’s face softened, and he returned the hug as best as he could, his voice warm and steady. “Good night, buddy.”

Charlie pulled back, eyeing them both like he was debating something. Then, he hesitated before announcing, “I, uh—I gotta use the bathroom before we go.”

Danny blinked, watching as his son shot one last glance between him and Steve before slipping toward the door, closing it softly behind him.

Silence settled in the room for a beat, and then Danny laughed.

Steve frowned. “What?”

Danny shook his head, smirking. “Kid’s trying to give us privacy again.”

Steve huffed out something close to a chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Smart kid.”

“Told you,” Danny muttered, crossing his arms. “Too smart for his own good.”

Steve’s smile lingered, but it was softer now, tired but genuine. “Pretty nice of him to try.”

Danny nodded, but his amusement faded as he stood there, feeling the weight of the moment settle over him.

Steve was right there. Right in front of him. And yet, there was still space between them—a space Danny wanted to close, needed to close.

And now? Now, with everything that had happened, everything that had been said—and even the things still left unsaid—he could.

He was allowed to.

If Steve didn’t push him away, then this—whatever this was, whatever it could be—was something he was going to let himself reach for.

So, instead of hesitating, instead of second-guessing, Danny stepped closer, and this time, he didn’t stop himself.

His hand found Steve’s without hesitation, fingers curling easily around his. It was natural, instinctive, muscle memory at this point.

Steve’s breath hitched, just slightly, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, his grip tightened almost immediately, like he’d been waiting for it.

Danny smirked. “Huh. Didn’t even have to wrestle you into it this time.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but his thumb brushed over Danny’s hand, absentminded and familiar. “Yeah, well. Figured it’d happen eventually.”

Danny scoffed. “Oh, eventually, huh?”

Steve smirked, tired but him, so him, and Danny felt something loosen in his chest. “Yeah, Danny. Eventually.”

Danny exhaled, shaking his head but not letting go. Didn’t want to let go. “And here I thought I’d have to do my usual routine—yell at you, manhandle you, force you into common sense.”

Steve squeezed his hand, his eyes crinkling slightly. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find an opportunity.”

Danny chuckled, rubbing his thumb along the back of Steve’s hand without thinking about it. This was good. This was them. The push and pull, the banter, the warmth underneath it all.

“Danno?”

Danny blinked, realizing Steve was watching him, studying him in that way he always did—like he knew Danny was thinking about something, knew there was more going on beneath the surface.
Danny opened his mouth, ready to brush it off, but then Steve did something that completely threw him—

He tugged on Danny’s hand, just slightly.

A silent invitation.

Danny didn’t even think. He just followed.

And just like that, he was perched on the edge of Steve’s bed, still holding his hand, still right there.

Not hesitating. Not pulling back.

Steve’s gaze softened, a quiet kind of relief flickering in his eyes. Like something was finally settling between them, like something that had been off-kilter for too damn long was finally aligning again.

Danny swallowed hard, feeling that shift, feeling the weight of all of it. But instead of running from it, instead of burying it, he leaned into it.

For the first time in three years, he let himself just be here.

And so did Steve.

Steve let out a slow breath, his fingers still curled around Danny’s like he was grounding himself. “Charlie seems happy here.”

Danny nodded, his voice softer now. “Yeah. He does.”

Steve hummed, his gaze flickering toward the door for a moment before returning to Danny. “That’s good.” A beat. Then, quieter, “You, uh… you do too.”

Danny felt something pull tight in his chest. He could’ve deflected, could’ve thrown out some smart-ass remark about the food being terrible or the hospital lighting being atrocious.

But not this time.

He exhaled, nodding once. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I do.”

Steve’s lips parted slightly, like he hadn’t expected Danny to actually say it.

Danny smirked. “Don’t look so shocked, McGarrett. I’m capable of being honest, you know.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Just not when it comes to your own feelings.”

Danny rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Didn’t need to argue. Not when he was sitting right here, holding Steve’s hand, not running for once.

Steve let out a slow breath, his gaze dropping to their hands. “I missed this.”

Danny’s throat went tight. He had to swallow before answering.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Me too.”

They sat like that for a long moment, not saying anything, just being.

And for the first time in years, it wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t tense. It was easy. And easy was good.

Charlie’s voice echoed down the hall, getting closer. Danny could hear him talking to someone—probably a nurse, considering how damn charming the kid was.

 

Danny exhaled, squeezing Steve’s hand one last time before pulling away—not because he wanted to, but because he had to.

But as soon as he tried to move, Steve’s fingers lingered, holding on just long enough for Danny to feel it.

Just long enough to make it very, very clear that this wasn’t over.

That they weren’t done.

Danny smirked, tilting his head. “Eventually, huh?”

Steve’s lips twitched. “Yeah, Danno. Eventually.”

Charlie appeared in the doorway a second later, all energy and enthusiasm. “Okay, I’m ready!”

Danny shot him a look. “Took you long enough.”

Charlie grinned. “Not my fault. The nurse had questions.”

Danny groaned. “Of course she did.”

Steve huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Go home, Danno.”

Danny rolled his eyes, standing up fully. “Yeah, yeah. Try not to get yourself more injured while I’m gone, alright?”

Steve smirked. “No promises.”

Danny sighed, ruffling Charlie’s hair before heading for the door. “Come on, kid. Let’s go before this guy gets any worse ideas.”

Charlie waved at Steve. “Night, Uncle Steve!”

Steve smiled. “Night, buddy.”

Danny lingered for a fraction of a second longer, letting his gaze meet Steve’s one last time before he nodded.

Steve nodded back.

Nothing else needed to be said.

Not yet. But soon.

-

By the time Danny and Charlie pulled up to the ranch, the sky had darkened into deep blues and purples, the Montana air crisp but not biting. It felt… settled. Like the world had shifted back into something that made sense, or at least something that wasn’t actively trying to drive Danny insane.

Home.

It was a strange word to attach to this place, but Danny couldn’t deny that it fit.

Charlie was ecstatic, practically bouncing as they walked into the ranch—even though they’d just been here earlier that day.

Danny didn’t blame him.

Steve was back.

His hero was back.

And whatever had been said between them—whatever Charlie and Steve had worked through in that hospital room—Danny didn’t know the details, but he could see the difference. Charlie looked
lighter, like something had been unburdened from his small shoulders, like some part of him had settled back into place.

Danny couldn’t help but feel that too.

It was strange, this feeling—this quiet kind of contentment, this sense of the world shifting back to where it was supposed to be.

He wasn’t sure he was ready to name it yet.

But he felt it.

The evening passed easily, comfortably.

Mary, Joanie, Charlie, and Danny settled in, eating dinner together, laughing, bonding. There was teasing—because of course there was.

Steve wasn’t here to defend himself, which made it way too easy for them to gang up on him in his absence.

Stories were shared, memories revisited. Charlie and Joanie giggled over Danny’s animated retellings of Steve’s more ridiculous moments, while Mary added her own twists to the narrative, making
Danny groan and shake his head.

It felt natural.

It felt right.

For the first time in years, Danny let himself just exist in it.

There was no rush, no tension hanging over them, no impending sense of things slipping away before they had a chance to hold onto them.

Just this.

And it was enough.

By the time exhaustion finally won out, the house settled into quiet.

Mary still took the green room—Gracie’s room—with Joanie curled up beside her, soft breaths filling the space.

Charlie, practically vibrating with excitement, announced he was finally going to sleep in his blue room. His room.

Danny stood in the hallway, watching his son disappear inside, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

That left him.

Danny sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

The couch.

He could take the couch.

He should take the couch.

Except…

His eyes drifted toward the door facing him.

Steve’s room.

His room too, if Steve’s own words meant anything.

Danny stood there, unmoving, torn between logic and something deeper.

The last time he’d been in that room, he’d been wrecked—gutted—by Steve’s letter, by everything it had told him and everything it hadn’t.

And Steve had been there.

Right behind him.

That night had been a turning point, in ways Danny hadn’t even been ready to face at the time.

And now?

Now, the choice sat in front of him again. Couch? Or the bed?

Danny groaned, running a hand through his hair. For fuck’s sake, why did everything always have to be so damn complicated?

After a long moment, he huffed out a breath.

Screw it.

He wasn’t sleeping on a couch anymore—he was too old for that shit.

Decision made, he opened the door and stepped inside.

The room was warm, the faint scent of wood and Steve lingering in the air.

The bed was big, comfortable-looking, and way better than the couch.

Danny sighed as he dropped onto it, stretching out, letting the mattress take his weight.

And just like that, it wasn’t a big deal anymore.

It was just a bed.

It was just sleep.

Except it wasn’t.

And he knew it.

He lay there, staring at the ceiling, and his mind drifted back to the thought that had hit him earlier at the hospital.

Coming back.

Taking care of Steve.

Spending the next two weeks here, making sure the stubborn idiot didn’t overdo it, didn’t get himself killed trying to play tough guy.

Was it crazy?

Yeah.

But every time he tried to talk himself out of it, he found another reason why it made sense.

Because it wasn’t just for Steve.

It was for him too.

And maybe—just maybe—it was for Charlie as well.

But it was too late to bring it up now.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he’d talk to Charlie.

And then maybe he’d talk to Steve.

-

The house was already awake by the time Danny came downstairs, the familiar sounds of movement filling the space.

It wasn’t the chaotic kind of noise he usually associated with morning routines—no rushed footsteps, no scrambling for school supplies or last-minute work obligations. This was different. Purposeful.
Mary and Charlie were already deep into “operation make the house livable for a stubborn McGarrett.”

Charlie was in full mission mode, scanning the house with a critical eye like he was leading his own Five-0 operation, grabbing anything that looked remotely hazardous or inconvenient. Shoes left near
the hallway? Moved. Coffee table too close to the couch? Pushed back. He even eyed the kitchen chairs before deciding they were safe—for now.

Mary worked with quiet efficiency, shifting furniture, clearing space, making sure Steve’s room was actually set up for someone recovering from gunshot wounds and not a damn training exercise.

And Joanie, all energy and enthusiasm, was determined to be a part of it too.

She trailed after Charlie, carrying pillows almost as big as she was, huffing dramatically every time one slipped from her grip. “Pillows for Uncle Steve,” she declared. “For comfy.”

Danny smirked as he ruffled her hair. “That so, kiddo?”

She nodded firmly. “Yes. And blankets.”

Mary chuckled, shaking her head. “Joanie, sweetheart, I think we have enough blankets.”

Joanie squinted. “More’s better.”

Charlie, just as serious, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we should grab a couple more.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Great. Enablers. The both of you.”

But he didn’t stop them.

Because today, Steve was coming home.

The next few hours passed in a blur of cleaning, reorganizing, and making sure everything was set.

The living room was adjusted for easy access. Anything that could get in the way was moved, shelves cleared, spaces widened. Steve’s room was fully stocked—water bottles lined the nightstand, medication was organized, and apparently, Joanie and Charlie had decided that every pillow and blanket in existence needed to be piled in one giant heap at the foot of the bed.

Danny sighed. There was no winning this.

Joanie even made a drawing card, carefully scrawled in crayon, that she taped to Steve’s nightstand upside down.

Danny squinted at it. “You know it’s—”

“ Perfect.” Joanie interrupted, very matter-of-fact.

Danny snorted. “Yeah, alright, kid.”

By the time 10 AM hit, they were out the door, ready to bring him home.

-

Danny should’ve known Steve would be waiting for them.

Not resting.

Not being a model patient.

But waiting.

When they stepped into the hospital room, there he was—already upright, sitting on the bed like he was just another patient, not someone who had nearly bled out less than a week ago.

Danny stopped in his tracks, arms immediately crossing, eyes narrowing.

Charlie, oblivious, perked up. “Uncle Steve!”

Steve smirked, looking way too pleased with himself. “Hey, buddy.”

Mary arched a brow. “Well, you look ready to go.”

Danny wasn’t buying it.

His eyes scanned Steve, taking in the tension in his shoulders, the way he was holding himself too stiffly, the exhaustion still lingering under his skin.

Danny’s jaw clenched.

Then, without a word, he strode forward, grabbed Steve by the shoulders, and pushed him back against the pillows.

“Whoa—Danny—”

“Nope.” Danny snapped, adjusting the pillows, pulling the blanket up, ignoring Steve’s protests.

“Danno—”
“You sit your ass down and wait for the doctor, you hear me?”

Steve sighed dramatically, but he didn’t fight it.

Charlie snickered.

Joanie, standing beside him, clapped her hands.

Mary just smirked. “You heard them.”

Danny huffed, stepping back, arms still crossed.

“What the hell were you thinking, huh? You get shot, nearly die, and now you’re what? Just gonna walk outta here like it’s nothing?”

Steve smirked, all cocky and infuriating. “It’s not nothing, Danno.”

Danny scowled. “Damn right, it’s not.”

Steve opened his mouth, but before he could say anything else, the doctor stepped in.

Danny turned, greeting him with a nod, then immediately gestured toward Steve.

“Doctor. Please. Explain to your idiot patient that he’s not actually invincible.”

The doctor smirked, flipping open the chart. “I’ll do my best.”

Joanie nodded seriously. “Listen, Uncle Steve.”

Danny pointed at her. “See? The kid gets it.”

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is my life now, huh?”

Charlie grinned. “Yup.”

Danny leaned against the wall, watching as the doctor checked Steve over, his arms still firmly crossed, his protective instincts on high alert.

Steve might have thought he was walking out of here today.

But not until Danny was damn sure he wasn’t gonna drop dead trying.

-

The doctor had finally cleared Steve, though not without a long, detailed list of restrictions.

Danny had committed every single one to memory.

No strenuous activity. No lifting anything heavier than a gallon of milk. No overexertion, no sudden movements, and—Danny’s personal favorite—no heroics.

He had stood there, arms crossed, nodding along as the doctor spoke, but his eyes had been locked onto Steve the entire time, making sure the stubborn idiot actually heard the instructions.

Steve, for his part, had mostly behaved. He hadn’t argued much—probably because he was too damn tired to fight—but Danny had seen the way his jaw twitched, the way his fingers flexed against the blanket on the hospital bed. He was already trying to find the loopholes.

Danny wasn’t going to give him any.

Now, though, they were home.

Steve had moved slowly but steadily from the car to the house, settling onto the couch with minimal protest. They had eaten together, the warmth of the home wrapping around them, settling over them like a weight Danny hadn’t realized he was carrying until it started to lift.

It was good, being here. Right.

And when Mary had offered to take the kids for a walk, letting Joanie burn off some energy before bedtime, Danny had jumped at the opportunity.

Because he needed to talk to Steve.

And now was the time.

Danny stood near the kitchen, nursing the last of his coffee, watching Steve from the corner of his eye. Steve was reclined on the couch, his body visibly relaxing into the cushions, but his eyes
remained alert, tracking Danny’s movements like he knew something was coming.

Danny sighed, setting his mug down with a quiet clink before making his way to the living room. He dropped onto the couch next to Steve, close enough that their knees nearly touched.
Steve tilted his head slightly, giving him a knowing look. “Alright, Danno. Spill.”

Danny scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t even know what I’m gonna say.”

Steve smirked. “You’ve got that face. The ‘I’m about to say something important but I’m gonna act like it’s no big deal’ face.”

Danny rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, he exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Okay, fine. You got me.”

Steve just waited.

Danny shifted slightly, resting his arm along the back of the couch, fingers tapping absently against the cushion. “Look, I’ve been thinking. About you, about this whole recovery thing, about the next
couple of weeks.”

Steve’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

Danny pressed on. “You heard the doctor, right? No overexertion, no doing anything stupid, no—”

Steve’s lips twitched. “No heroics. Yeah, I got it.”

Danny pointed at him. “Right. And you and following orders don’t exactly have the best track record.”

Steve made a sound that was dangerously close to a huff, but Danny ignored it.

“So,” Danny continued, “I figured… I’d come back. Stay here for a couple of weeks.” He said it quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid, like saying it too slowly would give Steve a chance to argue.
Steve blinked, his expression unreadable.

Danny, not giving him the chance to protest, barreled on. “Charlie’s got school, he’ll be fine with Rachel. I’ll check in with work, take some time off, and you won’t be left alone to do something stupid.”
Steve was still watching him, expression neutral, but Danny saw it—the way his fingers curled slightly against his thigh, the way something eased in his shoulders, just a little.

And then, finally, finally, Steve spoke.

“You really wanna spend two weeks babysitting me, huh?” His voice was light, teasing, but there was something else underneath. Something real.

Danny let out a sharp breath, rolling his eyes. “Oh, yeah. Dream vacation, McGarrett. Two whole weeks of making sure you don’t fall on your face or try to chop wood when you can barely sit up straight.”

Steve smirked. “Sounds thrilling.”

“You know, it would just be to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, ‘cause we both know you will the second no one’s watching. And, uh… Mary’s got her hands full with Joanie, so she doesn’t need
to be dealing with your stubborn ass on top of that. So, it just—” He gestured vaguely, his hands moving in chaotic circles, as if trying to physically arrange his thoughts. “It just makes sense, you
know?”

Steve didn’t answer right away. He just watched him, and that, more than anything, put Danny on edge.

He filled the silence with more excuses, more justifications, trying to make it sound like this wasn’t as big of a deal as it actually was.

Steve reached out, catching Danny’s hand mid-motion, stopping his restless movement with a simple touch.

Danny froze.

Steve’s fingers curled lightly around his, his thumb brushing over the back of Danny’s hand in a slow, steady motion.

Danny’s breath caught.

Steve, his voice softer now, gave him a small, knowing smile. “Danno,” he murmured, “calm down.”

Danny didn’t move, didn’t pull away. He just stared at him, heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with the way Steve was looking at him—steady, warm, real.

“I’d love it if you stayed ” Steve said simply, no hesitation, no argument, just the truth.

Danny exhaled, something in his chest loosening at those words.

For a moment, they just sat there, hands still linked, silence stretching between them—not uncomfortable, not awkward, just them.

Yeah. This was the right call.

-

Chapter 31: 31

Notes:

I'm so happy to tell you that I finished writing the story last night, and I can't wait to share it with you! I really hope you love it as much as I do. I think (I hope) I managed to give it the perfect ending... I got so emotional writing it 🤣🤣 I'm so screwed, but I love them so much...

Well now, I just have to reread it, separate it into chapters, and then I can share it with you 😉😃🥰

The day had gone by too fast.

One moment, they were settling back into the house, and now? Now they were standing at the front door, bags packed, keys in hand, ready to leave.

Danny hated this part. Always had.

Steve had insisted on getting up, despite the fact that Danny had half a mind to tell him to sit his stubborn ass back down. But Steve being Steve, he’d made his way to the door, one hand bracing against the frame, the other rubbing absently at his side like the movement had pulled at his stitches.

Danny saw it. He always saw it. But for once, he didn’t call him out on it.

Because this was already hard enough.

Charlie was not taking it well.

The kid, who had shot up like a weed in the past year, was nearly as tall as Danny now, with the kind of lean build that came from all the hours he spent on the basketball court. And right now, that same kid had his arms wrapped around Steve’s middle, holding on like he thought if he let go, Steve might disappear again.

Steve, to his credit, didn’t try to move him along.

He just held on, his good arm wrapped around Charlie’s back, his head dipped close to his, saying something too quiet for Danny to hear.

Charlie nodded against him, but he still didn’t let go.

“Hey, buddy,” Danny said gently, resting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “We gotta go, alright?”

Charlie swallowed hard, pulling back just enough to look up at Steve. His face was tight, like he was really trying to keep it together. “You promise you won’t disappear again?”

Danny’s chest ached at the blunt honesty in that question.

Steve’s breath caught, and his fingers flexed slightly against Charlie’s back. “I promise, kid,” he said, voice quiet but sure. “We’ll see each other soon.”

Charlie nodded slowly, finally—reluctantly—stepping back.

And then Joanie was suddenly there, launching herself at Danny, little arms wrapping around his waist.

“Nooo, you can’t go!” she whined, her face pressed against his stomach.

Danny let out a small, breathless laugh, crouching to hug her properly. “Munchkin, you got me all weekend, I think you’ll survive a couple weeks without me.”

She shook her head furiously, her little hands gripping his jacket. “Don’t want to.”

Danny closed his eyes for a second, rubbing a hand over her back. “I’ll be back, okay? You take care of Uncle Steve for me until then.”

That made her pause, pulling back just enough to glance toward Steve, then nod.

Steve smirked. “I’m in good hands then.”

Joanie still looked skeptical, but finally, finally, she allowed Mary to take her hand, letting Danny stand up again.

And then, suddenly, it was just them.

Danny exhaled, shifting his weight slightly. He had planned on just a nod, maybe a parting comment—something easy, something safe—but instead, before he could even think better of it, he took a step closer.

Steve’s gaze flickered slightly, tracking the movement, but he didn’t move away.

Didn’t hesitate.

Danny wrapped an arm around him lightly, carefully, mindful of every sore muscle, every healing wound.

Steve’s hand left the doorframe instantly, looping around Danny’s back, pulling him in like it was second nature.

It wasn’t long—only a few seconds, maybe less—but it was everything.

Danny let his eyes close for just a beat, inhaling the familiar Steve-ness of it all—the warmth, the steadiness, the way everything felt a little easier when he was right here.

And then, just as quick as it had started, it was over.

Danny cleared his throat, stepping back. “I’ll keep you in touch,” he said, voice a little rougher than he wanted it to be.

Steve nodded, eyes steady. “Yeah.”

They had a plan.

Danny was going to talk to Charlie on the plane, alone, before cracking the news to everyone else. Before telling Mary. Before telling Rachel.

For now, though?

It was goodbye.

-

The plane hummed softly beneath them, the dim cabin lights casting a low glow over the rows of seats. Charlie sat next to Danny, earphones around his neck but not in his ears, fingers absently drumming against the tray table in front of him. They had about seven hours left before landing in Hawaii, and Danny figured now was as good a time as any to have the talk.

He shifted slightly in his seat, rolling his shoulders back before turning toward Charlie. “Alright, bud, listen,” he started, keeping his voice even. “There’s something I wanna run by you.”

Charlie tilted his head, a knowing smirk already creeping onto his face. Smart little punk.

“Is this about you coming back to Montana?” he asked, casually, like he had seen it coming a mile away.

Danny blinked. “Uh—what?”

Charlie gave him a look. “Dad. Come on.” He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed like he was waiting for Danny to catch up. “You think I didn’t notice you practically vibrating out of your skin about leaving Steve behind? Or the way he looked at you when we left? Or, I don’t know, the fact that you mother-hen him even from across the damn country?”

Danny sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Watch the language, kid.”

Charlie grinned. “I learned from the best.”

Danny huffed. “Yeah, yeah. Alright, you little detective, yes. I’m thinking about going back in a few days. For a couple of weeks. To help him out while he’s recovering.”

Charlie nodded, thoughtful now. “So, like… just you?”

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck, eyeing his son carefully. “Yeah. Just me, for now. You have school, and I don’t wanna mess with that.”

Charlie’s expression faltered slightly, but he recovered quick. “Yeah, I get it.”

Danny hesitated, then nudged Charlie’s knee with his own. “You wanna go back sooner, huh?”

Charlie sighed, playing with the zipper on his hoodie. “Yeah. But I get why I can’t.” He shot Danny a sideways look. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Danny smirked. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Charlie let out an exaggerated sigh, stretching his arms behind his head. “So, when exactly are you and Uncle Steve gonna admit you’re basically married?”

Danny choked on absolutely nothing, turning to glare at his son. “What—what did you just say?”

Charlie shrugged, completely unfazed. “I mean, seriously, Dad. You guys bicker like an old married couple—”

“We do not.”

“You literally tucked him in like a grumpy toddler.”

Danny groaned, covering his face with both hands. “I should have left you in Montana.”

Charlie snickered, poking him in the arm. “Too late. Also, if you don’t tell Uncle Steve how you feel at some point, I will.”

Danny peeked out from between his fingers, horrified. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

Danny groaned again, leaning his head back against the seat. “You are too smart for your own good.”

Charlie grinned triumphantly. “I know.”

Danny sighed, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. The kid was too much sometimes, but hell—he was his kid. And he wouldn’t change a thing.

After a moment, Danny cleared his throat. “Alright, so you’re good with this plan? Me going back, you staying with your mom for a bit?”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah. Just make sure Uncle Steve actually rests, okay?”

Danny scoffed. “You really think I’m gonna let him do anything stupid?”

Charlie snorted. “No. But I think he thinks he’s gonna do something stupid.”

Danny shook his head with a chuckle. “Alright, alright. I’ll keep him in check.”

Charlie grinned, turning back to his in-flight entertainment. Danny let out a slow breath, relaxing a little now that that part of the conversation was over.

Now came the hard part.

-

By the time they landed in Hawaii, it was the middle of the night, and Danny was running on fumes. The ten-hour flight had stretched endlessly, giving him far too much time alone with his thoughts.

He had tried to doze off a few times, but his mind refused to quiet down. Instead, he had spent most of the journey staring out the window at the dark sky, lost in the weight of everything that had happened—and everything that was still to come.

Charlie, on the other hand, had managed to sleep. He had curled up in his seat at some point, his head resting against Danny’s arm, completely at ease. Danny hadn’t moved, hadn’t even tried to shift away, just letting his son rest. The kid had been through a lot in the past few weeks, and Danny knew better than anyone how much a little peace could help.

When they finally touched down, Danny barely had the energy to get them through the airport and into a cab. By the time they got home, Charlie was only half-awake, stumbling toward his room with nothing more than a mumbled ‘Night, Dad,’ before collapsing into bed.

Danny didn’t make it much further. He landed on his bed, still fully dressed, and let exhaustion pull him under before he could think too hard about anything.

Morning came too fast.

He woke up to sunlight filtering through the blinds, his body aching from sleeping in a terrible position. He groaned, rubbing his face before sitting up, trying to blink himself awake. His neck was stiff,
his back protested every movement, and he was too damn old to be crashing on couches anymore.

But there was no time to waste.

Today was about getting everything in order.

He pushed himself up, shuffled into the kitchen and took a slow sip of his coffee, letting the warmth settle into his bones before finally pulling out his phone. This part was easy—Rachel and him, they had come a long way. Time, experience, and raising Charlie had turned them from exes into something closer to friends. There was no anger between them anymore, just an understanding built on years of history and a mutual love for their kids.

He shot her a quick text.

Need to talk. Call me when you can.

Fifteen minutes later, his phone rang.

"Daniel," Rachel greeted, her tone amused. "You're up early."

Danny huffed, shifting the phone to his other ear. "Rach, I just got back from Montana. My body has no idea what time it is. I think I'm running purely on caffeine and stubbornness."

Rachel let out a soft laugh. "That tracks. So, what’s going on?"

Danny hesitated for a second, then just went for it. "I need to head back for a couple of weeks."

There was a pause. Not in anger or judgment, just in understanding.

"You’re going back for Steve," she said, her voice holding no real surprise.

Danny exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah."

Rachel hummed, thoughtful. "I suppose I should be shocked, but honestly, I’d be more surprised if you didn’t go back. You can’t help yourself."

Danny smirked. "Wow, thank you for that insightful psychological analysis."

"Anytime," she quipped, but then her voice softened. "How’s he doing?"

Danny sighed, leaning against the counter. "He’s… recovering. Stubborn as ever. The doctors gave him a laundry list of rules, and I’d bet money he’s already trying to ignore half of them."

Rachel made a sound that was somewhere between amusement and exasperation. "And you, of course, are planning to personally enforce every single one of them."

"Obviously," Danny replied, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She chuckled. "Well, I hope he's prepared for that."

"He’s not," Danny said dryly.

Rachel laughed again, then after a beat, she added, "Of course Charlie can stay with me. You don’t even have to ask."

Danny let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. "Thanks, Rach."

She was quiet for a moment, then, in a softer tone, she said, "You sure about this?"

Danny didn’t even hesitate. "Yeah. I am."

She hummed again, like she had already known the answer before she even asked. "Alright then. Just… take care of yourself too, okay? Not just him."

Danny smiled, something warm settling in his chest. "Yeah, yeah. I got it."

Rachel sighed, but he could hear the fondness there. "Sure you do. But Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"Make him work for it."

Danny chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, I got it."

Rachel let out a quiet laugh. "Good. Now go drink another cup of coffee before you collapse."

Danny smirked. "You know me too well."

"And yet, somehow, I'm still surprised when you call me with these things," she teased before adding, "Be safe, Danny."

"You too, Rach."

She hung up, and Danny exhaled, setting his phone down. One conversation down.

One more to go.

And this one? This one was going to be a lot harder.

-

After making sure Charlie was set with breakfast and getting ready for school, Danny lingered in the kitchen, watching him closely.

Charlie didn’t need him to hover as much these days—the kid was in seventh grade now, more independent, more self-sufficient. But this morning?

This morning, he was running low.

The plane ride, the time difference, the lack of sleep—it had all caught up with him. Charlie moved slower than usual, rubbing his eyes, staring at his cereal like it was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

Danny sighed, nudging a juice box toward him. “Drink, kid.”

Charlie blinked up at him, half-asleep, then obediently took a sip.

Danny smirked. “You gonna survive the day, or do I gotta carry you to school?”

Charlie huffed. “I’m fine.”

 

Danny arched an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? ‘Cause you just put your spoon in your juice.”
Charlie looked down, realized Danny was right, then groaned and flopped forward onto the table. “Ughhhh.”

Danny chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Eat, buddy. You’ll feel better once you get moving.”

Charlie muttered something unintelligible but picked up his spoon—the right one this time—and started eating.

Danny watched him for another moment, satisfied that he wasn’t about to pass out into his cereal, then finally pulled out his phone again.

He stared at the screen for a long minute, rolling his shoulders, exhaling slowly, before pressing call.

It rang twice before she picked up.

“Dad?” Grace’s voice was warm, familiar, but also laced with suspicion—like she already knew something was up.

Danny exhaled, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Hey, Monkey. You got a second?”

“Yeah,” she said immediately, though he could hear the rustle of papers in the background. “I was just finishing up some notes—what’s up?”

Danny hesitated just a little too long, and Grace caught it instantly.

“Dad,” she said slowly, her tone shifting. “What’s going on?”

Danny cleared his throat. “Okay, listen. First of all, everything’s fine.”

Grace immediately did not sound convinced. “Uh-huh. That’s exactly what people say when everything is NOT fine.”
Danny huffed. God, she really was his kid. “Just—let me talk, alright? Then you can yell at me after.”

There was a pause, then a dry, “Oh, so I’m definitely gonna yell at you. Fantastic.”

Danny ran a hand through his hair. Here we go.

So, he told her.

Everything.

Steve getting hurt. The hospital. Montana.

How Charlie had taken it, how they had talked, how Steve had built that damn house for them, even when he didn’t know if they’d ever come.

And then, finally, his plan.

Silence.

A long, heavy silence.

Danny winced, glancing at the phone. “Gracie?”

And then, finally “You’re going back?”

Danny sighed. “Yeah, Monkey, I...”

“After everything?” she cut him off, her voice sharp, angry. “After three years, after he just left, you’re running right back to him?”

Danny’s stomach twisted. “It’s not like that...”

“Isn’t it?” she snapped. “He abandoned us, Dad! You, me, Charlie! He just disappeared, and now what? He gets hurt and suddenly everything is fine?”

Danny exhaled, closing his eyes. “Gracie...”

“No,” she interrupted, voice strong, fierce. “You don’t get to just—just forgive him like that.”

Danny rubbed his temple. “I’m not saying it’s perfect, alright? I’m not saying it’s all magically better. But he—he was in a bad place, Monkey. And he’s trying.”

Grace let out a sharp breath. “Yeah? Well, too bad it took him three years to figure it out.”

Danny swallowed, gripping the phone tighter. “I know you’re mad, Monkey. You have every right to be mad. But I need you to hear me on this. I’m going back for two weeks. That’s it. And if—if—after that, you wanna fly out, see him, yell at him yourself? I’ll get you a ticket. Hell, I’ll go with you. But I need to do this.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and unmoving, like something tangible pressing down on Danny’s chest. He knew this conversation was going to be hard. He’d prepared for anger, for frustration, for Gracie not understanding. Hell, he’d braced himself for her to hang up on him altogether.

But this?

This hurt.

“I don’t get it,” she said, her voice quieter now, but no less sharp.

Danny’s throat tightened. “What?”

There was a long pause, and when she spoke again, her voice was still controlled, but he could hear the anger bubbling underneath, could picture the way her jaw was probably clenched, the way her eyes would be burning—just like his did when he got worked up.

“I don’t get why you’re giving him another chance.”

Danny exhaled, running a hand down his face, his heart squeezing in his chest. There was no way to explain it that would make her okay with it. Not right now.

But he still had to try.

“Because…” His voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed hard before forcing the words out. “Because he’s Steve.”

Another pause, and he could hear the way Grace’s breath shuddered slightly, like she was fighting to keep herself in check. Then, softer, but still unyielding, still full of steel—

“You better make him earn it.”

Danny closed his eyes, the relief mixing with exhaustion, with frustration, with the aching knowledge that this was just the start of a long road ahead.

“Yeah, Monkey,” he promised, voice rough. “I will.”

She didn’t say anything right away. Didn’t tell him she forgave him, didn’t let out some breath of acceptance. Instead, there was another pause, and then a clipped, “I gotta go.”

Danny nodded even though she couldn’t see him. “Okay.”

The call disconnected, and Danny sat there, phone still in his hand, his stomach twisting.

He had expected it to be difficult. But he hadn’t expected this.

Grace had always been the one to soften first, the one who felt things deeply but found her way through it with understanding. She’d always given second chances more easily than he did. But Steve had broken something in her, and now Danny wasn’t sure if it could be fixed.

Or if it should be.

He stared at his phone, running his thumb over the screen absentmindedly, trying to shake the feeling of wrongness that settled in his chest.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Maybe going back, maybe trying to rebuild something that had been shattered too much—maybe it was too late.

But then he thought of Charlie, of the way he had lit up just being around Steve again.

He thought of Steve, standing at that front door, watching them leave like he was afraid Danny might not actually come back.

And despite everything, despite the weight of Grace’s words sitting heavy in his chest, Danny knew he had to try.

Because whether Grace saw it or not, whether he wanted to admit it or not—

Steve had always been worth it.

-

By the afternoon, everything was set.

Charlie’s things were packed for Rachel’s, his ticket back to Montana was booked, and he had swung by his office to check messages and handle anything urgent. He hadn’t lingered, hadn’t let himself get pulled into anything that could delay him. Instead, he had scrawled “Off for Family Business” on a sticky note and slapped it onto his office door before walking out without looking back.

Tomorrow—he was going back.

Back to Montana.

Back to Steve.

-

Chapter 32: 32

The flight felt both too long and too short, a liminal space where anticipation sat heavy in his chest, winding tighter with every mile that brought him closer. He didn’t let himself overthink it—not this time.

By the time he landed, Montana greeted him with crisp air and that stretch of open sky that never failed to remind him how far he was from home. And yet, as he pulled up to Steve’s place, something settled in his chest.

-

Danny wasn’t nervous.

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself as he stood outside the ranch, suitcase still in hand, staring at the house that had somehow, in all the ways that mattered, become his just as much as it was Steve’s.

It was stupid, really, the way his pulse kicked up the longer he lingered there. This was supposed to be easy. He had come back to help Steve. That was the plan. No hidden agenda, no complications—just making sure the stubborn idiot didn’t push himself too hard, didn’t undo whatever recovery he’d managed so far.

And yet, standing here, his fingers curling tighter around the worn leather handle of his suitcase, Danny couldn’t shake the feeling that he was stepping into something more. Something unspoken, something waiting.

The moment he stepped inside, it was like the air shifted.

Steve was there. Not in an obvious way—not standing at the door like some lost soul—but there, sitting on the couch like he had been holding his breath all day and could finally exhale now that Danny had walked through the door. His posture was relaxed, the picture of someone just passing the time, but his eyes gave him away. There was something quiet in them, something that looked a hell of a lot like relief. Like he hadn’t quite believed Danny would come back until he saw him standing there.

Like he’d been waiting.

“Long flight?” Steve asked, his voice rough, casual, like this was just another day.

Danny huffed, dropping his bag with a thud. “Yeah, well, ten hours in coach will do that to you. You should see how long my legs are now—think I gained an inch from all the cramping.”

Steve smirked, but it was soft, barely there. The kind that wasn’t about the joke but about the fact that Danny was here, filling the space the way only he could.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The quiet stretched between them, humming with something unspoken but familiar, something that made Danny’s chest ache in a way he wasn’t ready to examine.

Then he exhaled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Alright, let’s get this circus started. You sit your ass down, and I’ll handle everything. You need food? Water? Blanket? Bedtime story?”

Steve rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “Danny.”

“Just checking, babe.”

And just like that, they fell into place.

-

The first night, Danny didn’t sleep.

It wasn’t the bed—it was too damn comfortable. And it wasn’t that he wasn’t tired—he was bone-deep exhausted, the kind that settled into his muscles and made his eyelids heavy.

It was Steve.

Steve, lying beside him, breathing slow and steady in the dark. Steve, warm, solid, real in a way that made Danny’s chest feel too tight. Steve, just there, inches away, when for too long, he hadn’t been there at all.

Danny lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, acutely aware of every breath, every slight shift of the mattress. He forced himself to stay still, too careful, too afraid to move the wrong way, to bump into him, to hurt him. Too wired with the sheer fact that he was here at all.

By the time morning crept in through the curtains, Danny felt half-dead from exhaustion, his mind fuzzy with the kind of restless awareness that came from keeping himself awake all night. He seriously debated packing up and moving into Charlie’s empty room.

The second night, he actually tried.

He had gotten as far as standing in the hallway, but before he could make up his mind, a hand caught his wrist.

Just a touch. Barely there. A small squeeze.

“Danny.”

His name, nothing more. Just that, in a voice rough with sleep, quiet and steady, like a tether keeping him from floating too far.

Danny closed his eyes, exhaled. And caved. Instantly.

Steve didn’t say anything else, just guided him back to bed without letting go. Danny didn’t fight it. Didn’t want to.

That was that.

By the third night, Danny stopped pretending he was going to sleep anywhere else.

By the fourth, he stopped overthinking it.

By the fifth, he slept better than he had in years.

-

The days blurred together in an easy rhythm, falling into something natural, something that didn’t require thinking.

Mornings were slow, filled with the rich scent of coffee and the low crackle of the fireplace still burning from the night before. Danny made breakfast—because Steve wasn’t allowed to lift anything heavier than a damn spoon, and Danny took great pleasure in reminding him of that every five minutes. Steve grumbled about it, of course, but not too much. Not when Danny slid a plate in front of him with a casual “eat, babe” like it was the most natural thing in the world.

They found ways to fill the time.

Movies, at first—Danny refused to let Steve watch anything remotely action-packed, much to Steve’s frustration. “For the love of God, McGarrett, you need to rest, not relive all the ways you’ve nearly died.” Steve had rolled his eyes but relented, sitting through Danny’s selection of crime procedurals with a disgruntled expression that only softened when he got invested.

Then TV shows—half of which Steve had missed over the last three years. It turned into a whole process, with Danny having to pause every five minutes to explain plotlines that Steve pretended not to care about but totally did.

Then games—cards, chess, anything to keep Steve’s brain occupied.

“You’re cheating,” Danny grumbled, glaring at the chessboard in disgust.

Steve smirked, leaning back against the couch like the cocky bastard he was. “How exactly does one cheat at chess?”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “By being you.”

Steve chuckled. “Danno, it’s called strategy.”

Danny gestured wildly at the board. “No, it’s called pissing me off.”

Steve’s smirk widened, looking far too smug for someone recovering from a gunshot wound. “Same thing.”

Danny groaned, running a hand down his face. “I should smother you in your sleep.”

“You could, but then you wouldn’t have anyone to beat at poker later.”

Danny muttered under his breath but started setting up another game anyway.

And that’s how it went.

Lazy moments. Quiet moments. Moments that felt like before—except not quite.

Because somewhere along the way, things started to shift.

At first, it had been small things. A brush of fingers against an arm, an absentminded touch here or there, moments that could still be dismissed as habit rather than intent.

But somewhere along the way, they stopped pretending it was unintentional.

Danny no longer hesitated when his fingers drifted over Steve’s forearm as they sat on the couch, the late morning light spilling through the window, casting long shadows across the floor. What had
once been absentminded became deliberate, slow strokes of his fingertips tracing the lines of muscle, the faint scars, the places he knew like the back of his own hand.

Steve never pulled away—never wanted to—and instead of sitting stiffly beside him, he relaxed, leaned into it, letting Danny touch, letting the warmth settle in his bones like something he had been starved of for too long.

And then it became more.

The couch became their world.

They spent most of the day there, sprawled out in an ever-shifting, easy tangle of limbs, barely noticing how the hours slipped by. It started in the mornings, when Danny would bring over two mugs of coffee and Steve would take his with an appreciative hum, the sound somehow making Danny’s chest feel ridiculous. They sat close—closer than they needed to—hip to hip, thigh to thigh, sharing warmth as they talked about nothing and everything.

“Did you always do this?” Steve asked one morning, gesturing vaguely toward Danny’s fingers, which were tracing the inside of his wrist, absently following the lines of veins.
Danny didn’t even look up. “Do what?”

Steve huffed a quiet laugh, tipping his head back against the couch. “Touch me like this.”

Danny’s fingers slowed, but he didn’t pull away. “Maybe,” he said after a beat, voice quieter, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to admit it. “Maybe I did. Maybe you just weren’t paying attention.”

Steve’s smile lingered, eyes warm, fond. “I was.”

At some point, one of them would stretch out, and that was all it took. Steve, still healing, would shift lower, more comfortable, and Danny, rolling his eyes at Steve’s hesitation, would grab his ankles without a word and pull them into his lap.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Danny muttered the first time he did it, shaking his head as if he was the only sane person here.

Steve blinked at him, startled for all of two seconds before a slow, amused smile spread across his face. He let his head tip back against the armrest, letting Danny hold him there, letting himself be taken care of without argument.

Danny didn’t say anything, just let his thumb brush over the sharp bone of Steve’s ankle, slow and grounding, feeling the heat of his skin beneath his palm. Steve sighed—actually sighed, like something inside of him had come undone—and Danny had to force himself to look back at the TV, like his own chest hadn’t gone too tight from something stupidly soft.

From there, it got easier.

Whenever they put on a movie, they started upright—but never stayed that way. It didn’t take long for Steve to settle lower, leaning against Danny, head tucked against his shoulder like it belonged there. And Danny? Danny didn’t even think about it anymore. One arm draped over the back of the couch, fingers finding Steve’s neck without hesitation, tracing slow, lazy patterns against warm skin. Steve shivered—just slightly—but didn’t move away. If anything, he tipped his head forward, inviting it.

And Danny kept touching. Kept drawing those mindless circles, his thumb sweeping up the back of Steve’s neck, dipping just below his shirt collar before trailing back up. It was grounding, easy, familiar.

One afternoon, as Danny’s fingers traced light, absent patterns across the side of Steve’s throat, Steve exhaled sharply.

“You know that’s distracting, right?”

Danny hummed, stilling his movements for half a second before continuing. “Oh, you don’t like it?”

Steve’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out right away. His head tipped forward more, baring his neck, like he was doing the exact opposite of what he was trying to say. “That’s not what I said.”

Danny smirked. “Right. My bad.” And then he kept doing it, watching the way Steve’s breath hitched every now and then.

Then, one afternoon, Steve reached for Danny first.

They had been playing cards—something simple, something to pass the time, something that had more to do with the quiet comfort of being together than the actual game. Steve was losing, but he didn’t seem to care, because instead of focusing on the cards in front of him, he reached out—not a fidget, not absentminded, but purposeful, wrapping his fingers around Danny’s like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Danny’s breath caught, just for a second, but he didn’t pull away.

Steve ran his thumb over the back of Danny’s hand, slow and steady, the movement more grounding than anything had been in years.

Danny arched a brow. “You know, normally when you lose, you don’t get a consolation prize.”

Steve smirked, squeezing his hand lightly. “It’s not a consolation prize.”

“Oh, no?”

Steve tilted his head slightly, watching Danny like he was memorizing him. “No. Just something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

Danny swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, but he didn’t pull away.

And yeah, they still bickered. Of course they did.

Danny still called Steve a neanderthal for trying to get up too fast, still muttered under his breath about ex-Navy SEALs with no self-preservation instincts. Steve still rolled his eyes, still gave as good as he got, still smirked like an asshole when he won a game of chess and goaded Danny into a rematch.

But something was different now.

Because even in the middle of a fight over who made better pancakes or whether Steve was actually following the damn doctor’s orders, Steve would reach out—fingers brushing over Danny’s wrist, grounding, steadying, claiming.

And Danny?

Danny would let him.

---

They were closer now. Not just physically, but in ways that went deeper, ways that didn’t need words.

It was in the way Steve rested more, actually rested, without fighting it every second of the day. In the way Danny stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop, stopped bracing himself for the moment Steve would pretend he didn’t need anyone and push him away.

And when Steve finally admitted to feeling restless—because of course he did—Danny sighed, rolled his eyes, and caved.

“You’re impossible,” Danny muttered, grabbing Steve’s arm before he could try to walk ahead on his own. “Short walks. Short. As in, I swear to God, McGarrett, if you overdo it and I have to carry your stubborn ass back to the house, I will make sure it is the most humiliating experience of your life.”

Steve, looking far too smug for someone who had just been granted barely five minutes of freedom, smirked and murmured, “You’re all talk, Danno.”

Danny huffed. “Oh, yeah? Try me.”

But he still kept his hand on Steve’s lower back, just in case. Just enough to feel the warmth of him, the solid weight of him, the reminder that he was here.

At first, Steve could barely make it to the end of the porch steps before Danny dragged him back inside, declaring him a liability to his own damn recovery.

Then, a few minutes turned into ten.

Then, ten turned into fifteen.

And then it was every day.

Their time outside became theirs. A part of their routine, something sacred in its simplicity, a quiet thread woven into whatever this was becoming.

Some days, they talked—about everything, about nothing.

Steve told him about the ranch, about the long winters, about the way the sky stretched so far it made him feel like he could breathe again after everything. Danny told him about Grace, Charlie, the cases he worked, the way the sun set over the ocean in Hawaii on the nights he had let himself think about this, about Steve, about what could’ve been if they hadn’t spent three years being absolute idiots.

Other days, they just walked, shoulders brushing, the silence between them not empty, but full—full of things neither of them had to say out loud anymore.

And sometimes, their hands found each other, fingers brushing together before finally holding on, and neither of them pulled away.

By the middle of the second week, Steve was getting better.

By the end, Danny was struggling to ignore what that meant.

Because the two weeks were almost up.

Because Danny was leaving.

And they needed to talk.

Danny had spent every night thinking about it, staring at the ceiling in the dark, his heart kicking up in his chest every time he tried to picture himself getting on that plane and leaving all of this behind.

Because his life was in Hawaii. His job, his kid, his everything.

And yet.

Steve was here.

And Danny didn’t think he could just walk away again.

They had already lost three years.

Danny wasn’t about to waste any more time.

So, that night, as they sat on the porch, the sky endless above them, a cool breeze running through the ranch, Danny finally spoke.

“So.”

Steve, still nursing a beer, glanced at him with an arched brow. “So?”

Danny exhaled, gripping the arms of his chair before forcing himself to look at Steve. “We gonna talk about this?”

Steve smirked. “This?”

Danny shot him a look. “Don’t play dumb, McGarrett. You suck at it.”

Steve’s smirk faltered slightly, but he nodded once. “Alright.”

Danny ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “I go back tomorrow.”

He saw it then—the way Steve tensed, just slightly. The way his jaw clenched, his grip tightening around his beer, though he didn’t say anything.

Danny licked his lips, hesitated, then met Steve’s gaze, steady, sure. “But I—” He let out a slow breath, then finally said it, voice quiet, but unwavering.

“I don’t want this to be it.”

Steve stilled, his fingers flexing slightly against the bottle in his hand. Then, slowly, his gaze locked on Danny’s, eyes searching. “Yeah?”

Danny nodded, something raw working its way into his voice. “Yeah.”

The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t the kind that held doubt, wasn’t the kind that made space for regret.

Then, after a moment, Steve reached over, threading their fingers together.

Danny squeezed.

Neither of them needed to say anything else.

Because this?

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Danny let out a slow breath, thumb absently brushing over Steve’s knuckles, grounding himself in the warmth of his palm. The weight of everything that had been left unsaid for too long pressed against his ribs, but for once, it didn’t feel unbearable. It didn’t loom over them like something impossible to solve.

Because they wanted to solve it.

Steve was looking at him, gaze steady, waiting. And Danny, for once in his life, didn’t overthink it.

“You know,” he started, voice light, teasing at first but not careless, because this mattered. “You could come with me.”

Steve blinked, his grip tightening slightly around Danny’s. “Come with you?”

Danny huffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, Steven, you remember that place? The one with the ocean? Palm trees? Our team? My kid? The life we left behind?” He raised an eyebrow. “Hawaii. Ringing any bells?”

Steve let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I know what Hawaii is, Danny.”

Danny smirked, tipping his chin at him. “Then what, you need a formal invitation? Want me to roll out a red carpet? Send a damn postcard?”

Steve exhaled through his nose, but the amusement was still there, just under the surface. He didn’t say anything right away, just looked at Danny, really looked at him, like he was turning the idea over in his head.

Danny softened slightly. “Your doctor said two weeks with no effort, then six to eight to fully recover. The two weeks are done, and you’re getting better, right?” His voice dropped slightly, the teasing fading into something more real. “You don’t have to stay alone here.”

Something flickered in Steve’s eyes—something Danny recognized all too well. That instinctive, ingrained habit of thinking he had to handle things alone. That stubborn sense of solitude that had kept him here in the first place.

Danny knew that feeling.

But he wasn’t about to let Steve fall back into it.

So he leaned in just a little, voice quieter, more certain now. “Come home with me.”

Steve exhaled slowly, eyes flickering toward the porch railing, deep in thought. Danny let him sit with it, didn’t push—not yet.

Then, after a beat, Steve’s voice was quieter when he spoke.

“Mary and Joanie.”

Danny stilled slightly. Not because he hadn’t thought about them, but because he knew what Steve was about to say before the words even left his mouth.

Steve sighed, shifting forward in his chair. “I can’t just leave them, Danny. Not like this.”

Danny’s gaze softened, and he nodded. “You’re not leaving them.”

Steve’s jaw flexed slightly, but he didn’t argue, just looked at him, waiting.

Danny exhaled, leaning forward, bracing his elbows against his knees. “They’re gonna be okay now, babe. You know that.” His voice was steady, sure, because it was the truth. “They don’t need to run anymore. They can take the life they want. Go back to Jersey, stay here—hell, they’re welcome in Hawaii too, obviously.”

Steve let out a slow breath, his fingers flexing where their hands were still joined.

Danny watched him carefully, seeing the conflict in his face, but also the way his shoulders weren’t as tense as they had been before.

“They’re free now, Steve. But we could ask them, if that makes you feel better about it.”

That was what mattered.

For the first time in way too long, Mary and Joanie didn’t have to look over their shoulders. They didn’t have to run, to hide, to wonder when their lives would be disrupted again.

And Steve deserved that freedom too.

Danny let the words settle, let Steve sit with them.

Then, slowly, Steve exhaled and nodded. “Okay.”

Danny blinked. “Okay?”

Steve’s lips twitched, gaze flickering toward him. “Yeah, Danny. Okay.”

Danny narrowed his eyes, watching him closely. “So that’s it? No argument? No brooding silence? You’re just agreeing?”

Steve chuckled, squeezing his hand. “You make a compelling case.”

Danny scoffed, pulling their joined hands up and pressing a light kiss to the top of Steve’s knuckles, like he was physically keeping him here, grounding him in this moment, in this decision.
“Damn right, I do.”

Steve let out a breath, shaking his head slightly, but that soft, private smile was there, the one that Danny had missed more than he could ever admit.

Danny grinned, squeezing his hand one more time before finally leaning back in his chair, exhaling deeply, relief settling in his chest for the first time in weeks.

But before he could relax completely, Steve’s voice cut through the night.

“We’ll have to wait a few more days.”

Danny turned his head, brows pulling together. “What? Why?”

Steve gave him a pointed look, pressing a careful hand against his stomach. “I need to see my doctor before we go. Make sure I don’t get on a plane and immediately regret all my life choices.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “You already regret all your life choices, babe. Been regretting ‘em since the day we met.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, but his fingers tightened briefly around Danny’s.

Danny sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. We’ll delay a few days.”

Steve lifted an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, you’ll allow it? That’s generous of you, Danno.”

Danny snorted, standing up and stretching, not letting go of Steve’s hand as he did. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Steve smiled—really smiled—and Danny felt something settle inside of him.

They were moving forward. Together.

And now?

They had things to organize.

-

Chapter 33: 33

Danny might’ve won the argument about Steve coming back to Hawaii, but Steve was still Steve, which meant he wasn’t going to just hop on a plane without triple-checking everything.

So, the next day was spent waiting for Steve’s final check-up, ensuring his doctor gave him the all-clear to travel.

Danny hated waiting.

Steve, of course, found endless amusement in that.

Danny paced the length of the porch, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line as he checked the time for the fourth time in ten minutes.

Inside, Steve was doing the exact opposite of worrying.

Danny walked back into the living room only to find Steve kicked back on the couch, flipping through a damn travel magazine, looking for all the world like a man who hadn’t just spent the last few weeks recovering from a gunshot wound.

Danny narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

Steve barely glanced up, smirking. “What?”

Danny waved at him. “Are you seriously sitting here reading about ‘Top Ten Hidden Beach Gems in Hawaii’ like you’re planning a damn vacation?”

Steve turned the page with exaggerated ease. “Figured I should brush up on my knowledge. Been a while since I lived on an island.”

Danny scoffed, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. “Yeah, well, maybe read the part where it says ‘don’t do dumbass things that could reopen your stitches.’”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "You’ve got this whole mother hen routine down pat."

Danny huffed, leaning against the doorway, watching him. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t do something stupid before we even get on the plane."

Steve’s smirk widened. "Like what, exactly?"

Danny pointed at him. "Like existing unsupervised, for one. That’s already risky enough."

Steve let out a full laugh, tossing the magazine onto the coffee table. "I’ll survive, Danno."

Danny ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. “Yeah, yeah, just… don’t prove me wrong before tomorrow, alright?”

He meant it to sound light, teasing, but somehow, it didn’t quite come out that way.

Because the truth was—Danny still didn’t trust this.

Not because he thought Steve wasn’t going to get better. Not because he thought Steve would suddenly change his mind.

But because they had three years of distance to unlearn, and there was a part of Danny—a deep, tired part of him—that was still bracing for something to go wrong.

Steve must’ve seen it.

Because the teasing faded, just a little. His smirk softened, his eyes traced over Danny’s face, the tension in his shoulders, the way he was standing just a little too stiffly, like he was trying not to show how much he was thinking about this.

Then, in the way that had become instinct between them over the last two weeks, Steve reached out.

Danny hesitated for a split second.

And then he stepped closer, letting Steve take his hand.

Their fingers twined easily now, not quite natural, not yet—but something new, something that had never been part of them before.

And yet, it was becoming something that fit, something that settled between them without resistance, something that felt like it had been waiting for them to finally notice it, finally reach for it.

It was taking shape in the quiet moments, in the way Danny no longer hesitated before stepping into Steve’s space, in the way Steve didn’t pull back when Danny’s fingers lingered some seconds too long, in the way they had stopped questioning the closeness that had built between them over the last few weeks.

Back then, they had been partners, best friends, family in all the ways that mattered—but not like this. Not like now.

Because back then, their touches had been casual, full of familiarity but not intent, a hand clapped on a shoulder, a playful shove, a hug of reassurance in the midst of chaos.

This was different. This was intentional.

This was Steve’s thumb brushing over the inside of Danny’s wrist, slow and grounding, like he was memorizing the feeling of having him close again.

This was Danny tightening his grip, just slightly, holding on instead of letting go.

This was soft and quiet and deliberate—something new, something they had never let themselves have before, and yet, somehow, it was already woven into them like it had always been there, waiting. And maybe it was…

This was so much more.

And neither of them wanted to let it go.

Steve’s thumb brushed absently over Danny’s palm, slow and steady, a touch that was meant to ground, to reassure, to keep them here.

“I’ll be fine,” Steve said, voice quieter now. No teasing, just certainty. “We’ll go home. Together.”

Danny exhaled, feeling the tension ease just a fraction, letting himself believe it.

He squeezed Steve’s hand. “Yeah.”

-

As the evening settled over the ranch, the sky stretched wide and dark, speckled with stars that seemed to burn a little brighter out here, away from city lights. The night was quiet, save for the faint hum of insects and the occasional breeze rustling through the trees.

Inside, Joanie had planted herself on the floor with another puzzle, brow furrowed in deep concentration, while Danny had disappeared into the kitchen, mumbling about grabbing another beer and “if Steve tries to move off that couch, so help me—” before his voice trailed off.

Steve took the opportunity.

He pushed himself up, careful of his still-healing ribs, and stepped out onto the porch. Mary was already there, leaning against the railing, her beer resting loosely in her grip as she looked up at the stars. A small, real smile played at the corner of her lips as she listened to the faint laughter filtering through the open window from inside.

It was a good sound.

A real sound.

Steve exhaled, shifting his weight slightly. “You know we’re leaving soon.”

Mary smirked, taking a slow sip from her drink. “Yeah, big brother, I am aware. You and Danny have been dancing around each other like a couple of teenagers for two weeks. Figured it was only a matter of time before one of you made a move—and surprise, surprise, it was him.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched. “You done?”

Mary grinned, bumping her shoulder lightly against his. “Nah, but I’ll give you a break.”

Steve shook his head, looking back out at the land. The ranch, quiet and still under the night sky, had given him something in these last few years—a place to exist when everything else had felt like too much. But now?

Now, it wasn’t where he belonged.

His fingers tightened around the beer bottle in his hand. “You and Joanie… you gonna be okay here?”

Mary turned to him then, her expression softening slightly. “We’ll be fine, Steve.”

Steve let out a slow breath. “You sure? Because I don’t want you to feel like I’m—”

Mary cut him off before he could finish. “Like you’re abandoning us?” She shook her head, giving him a knowing look. “Steve. We talked about this. Joanie and I are good now. We’re safe. You did that for us.”

Steve swallowed, glancing down at his bottle. “Still.”

Mary sighed, nudging him gently. “Look, I know you. You wouldn’t be leaving if you thought I needed you here. And yeah, maybe a few months ago, I did need you here. But now?”

She tilted her head toward the open window, where Danny’s voice carried through, bickering with Joanie in a way that was nothing short of fond.

“You need to go, Steve. You need to go home.”

Steve let the words settle, a weight pressing against his ribs that he hadn’t even realized he was carrying.

Because she was right.

He had come here because he needed to disappear for a while, to figure out how to exist without all the things that had once anchored him. And then Danny had shown up—loud and insistent and completely unwilling to let Steve keep pretending this place was enough.

Because it wasn’t.

Not anymore.

Mary grinned suddenly. “Besides, I like Danny. He’s good for you.”

Steve huffed out a quiet laugh. “You just like watching him yell at me.”

“Yeah, well.” She shrugged. “It’s entertaining.”

Steve smiled, shaking his head.

Then, more serious now, “You two ever think about coming back?”

Mary sighed, her expression shifting into something softer. “Maybe. One day. But for now, we’re going back to New Jersey, finding our routine again. And for the first time in forever, we don’t have to worry about looking over our shoulders.”

She gave him a meaningful look.

“That’s because of you, Steve.”

Steve swallowed hard, his throat feeling suddenly tight. He wanted to argue, to tell her that it wasn’t just him, that she had done the hard part too, that she had fought for this life just as much as he had.

But the words stuck.

Instead, he just said, “I just… I don’t want you to feel like I’m leaving you behind.”

Mary reached out, covering his hand with hers, her voice steady. “You’re not. And you never could, even if you tried.”

Steve exhaled, nodding slowly. “Okay.”

Mary studied him for a moment before her lips curved into a smirk. “Besides, I always knew you and Danny were gonna figure your shit out eventually.”

Steve shot her a look. “Really?”

She snorted. “Please. You two have been circling each other for years. It was exhausting to watch. The only thing surprising about this whole thing is that it took you this long.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Mare.”

Mary just laughed, sipping her beer. “Just don’t screw it up, big brother.”

Steve exhaled, watching Danny inside—relaxed, laughing, like the last few years of tension had finally started to ease.

He wasn’t planning to screw it up.

Not this time.

Steve let his eyes linger on Danny for a moment longer before turning back to Mary. “I don’t plan to.”

Mary nodded, satisfied. “Good.”

Then, grinning again, “Now, go back inside before Danny starts pacing and worrying about you catching a cold or something.”

Steve scoffed, shaking his head. “He’s insufferable.”

Mary smirked. “Yeah, but he’s your kind of insufferable.”

Steve sighed, knowing she was exactly right.

So, rolling his shoulders, he took one last deep breath of the Montana air before following her back inside.

Because she was right.

It was time to go home.

-

When the next morning rolled around, Danny was already on edge before they even got to the doctor’s office.

Mary had taken Joanie out for some last-minute shopping before heading back to Jersey, leaving Danny alone to deal with Steve and his absolute refusal to acknowledge that getting shot was a big deal.

Which was why, as Danny drove them into town, fingers tapping against the steering wheel, he was already halfway to losing his mind, while Steve—being the insufferable man that he was—sat in the passenger seat, obnoxiously calm about the whole thing.

"You’re acting like they’re gonna tell me I’ve got three months to live."

Danny’s grip tightened on the wheel. "You don’t know that."

Steve smirked, shaking his head. "I think I do."

Danny shot him a glare before refocusing on the road. "Oh yeah? Well, I think you have a history of ignoring medical advice, so forgive me for not trusting your self-diagnosis, Steven."

Steve just huffed out a laugh, clearly enjoying himself, which only made Danny’s irritation grow.

By the time they pulled into the parking lot, Danny parked with a little more force than necessary, making the truck jerk slightly.

Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Smart man.

-

Thirty minutes later…

-

The doctor gave a thorough evaluation, checking Steve’s stitches, his movement, his vitals—all while Danny sat there, arms crossed, watching like a damn hawk.

And finally—finally—the words Danny had been waiting to hear:

Steve was good to travel.

Danny exhaled sharply, nodding along as the doctor listed out a long series of instructions—what Steve could and couldn’t do, signs to watch for, when to rest, how not to overexert himself.

Danny memorized every single word.

Steve, on the other hand, sat there looking entirely too smug.

As soon as they walked out, Steve stretched with an exaggerated sigh. "See? Told you I was fine."

Danny shot him a look. "Yeah? You wanna test that theory by not leaning on the door while you get in?"

Steve narrowed his eyes. "I don’t need to lean."

Danny smirked. "Uh-huh."

Steve huffed but didn’t argue.

And that?

That was all the victory Danny needed.

-

Later that afternoon, when they got back to the ranch, Danny insisted on one last walk before they left.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "You’re sentimental all of a sudden?"

Danny scoffed. "No, babe. I just wanna make sure you can walk before we put you on a plane for ten hours."

Steve smirked, but he let Danny drag him outside.

The land stretched out before them, the soft glow of the afternoon sun turning everything gold and amber, long shadows stretching along the dirt path as they walked.

It was beautiful.

Quiet.

Theirs.

They didn’t talk much. They didn’t need to.

It wasn’t until they reached the old oak tree near the fence line that Steve suddenly stopped, looking out over the land with an unreadable expression.

Danny studied him for a moment, taking in the way Steve’s fingers twitched at his sides, the way his chest rose and fell just a little slower than before.

"You good?" Danny asked, voice quieter now.

Steve exhaled slowly, eyes still on the land, before finally nodding. "Yeah."

Danny stepped closer, bumping their shoulders together.

Steve finally turned to him, a small, knowing smile on his lips. "You gonna miss it?"

Danny huffed. "Not enough to stay here, babe. Too much damn wood."

Steve laughed softly, shaking his head. "Figured you’d say that."

Danny watched him for a beat, then—softer now—"You?"

Steve hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Yeah."

But then, quieter, more certain—"But not enough to stay here either."

Danny watched him closely, taking in the way Steve's eyes lingered on the horizon, the way he looked at this place like he was saying goodbye to something bigger than just land.

So Danny did what felt right. He reached out, fingers curling around Steve’s, grounding him, pulling him back to now, to them. "We could come back with Charlie for the holidays, maybe?"

Steve turned his head, looking at him, a small smile forming on his lips, something softer, something unguarded, something Danny didn’t see often enough.

And for a moment, Steve just held onto those words, let them settle somewhere deep inside his chest, somewhere that had been tight for too long.

Because that?

That wasn’t just Danny making a suggestion.

That was Danny offering him a future.

A way to keep something of this place, of this quiet, of this version of himself that he’d thought he was leaving behind.

A way to move forward without losing everything that had mattered here.

It was a promise, in the way Danny always made them—not grand, not dramatic, just solid and steady and meant.

And it hit Steve in a way he hadn’t expected.

Because he wasn’t just leaving.

He wasn’t just walking away from Montana, from this land, from what had kept him standing when he hadn’t known how to be anything else.

He was bringing the best of it with him.

He was moving forward, but not alone.

Not anymore.

Steve’s fingers tightened around Danny’s, warm and sure, before he pulled him closer, his grip steady, his body radiating warmth.

And then, slowly, he wrapped his arms around Danny, tucking him in close, the weight of him solid, grounding, certain.

Danny let him.

He melted into it, into Steve’s warmth, into the way it felt so damn easy to fit against him, his own arms coming up to wrap around Steve’s back, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

They stood there for a long moment, holding onto each other, the old oak tree standing tall and steady above them, the land stretching out endless and golden around them.

And finally, after a beat, after the silence settled into something whole, Steve murmured, voice soft, low, steady—

"Thanks, Danno."

Danny exhaled, pressing his forehead lightly against Steve’s shoulder, lips curving into something small, something real.

And he held on tighter.

-

Packing was… an experience.

Danny, being Danny, had everything perfectly organized.

Steve, being Steve, had not.

Danny stood in the doorway of Steve’s room, hands on his hips, staring at the absolute disaster in front of him. Clothes half-folded, random gear scattered across the bed, and—because of course—Steve sitting in the middle of it all like he had zero concerns in the world.

"Why do you take duffel bags?" Danny demanded, exasperation dripping from every word.

Steve blinked up at him. "Because I own things?"

Danny groaned, rubbing his face. "Unbelievable. You lived out of a backpack for years, but suddenly you’re a damn hoarder?"

Steve smirked, completely unbothered. "Guess I settled in more than I thought."

Danny rolled his eyes but stepped forward anyway, sorting through Steve’s mess, muttering under his breath the entire time. "Unbelievable. Give a man some land, and suddenly he forgets how to pack a damn suitcase."

Steve just watched, amusement flickering in his eyes, letting Danny take over like he always did.

After a few minutes, Danny disappeared down the hall, only to return with a small, familiar box in his hands.

Steve’s breath caught for just a second.

The postcards.

Danny held the box up, watching Steve’s reaction carefully.

Steve arched an eyebrow. "Danno."

Danny shrugged, but it wasn’t careless. "What? I’m not leaving them here."

Steve didn’t say anything at first, just looking at the box—the one that had sat in his room for years, filled with every single postcard Danny had ever sent.

Then Danny added, "Plus, that could help with Gracie too. Well, maybe…"

Steve’s chest tightened—not in pain, not in hesitation, but in something softer, something settled.

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

Danny exhaled like he had been waiting for that answer, then set the box gently inside Steve’s bag, making sure it wouldn’t get crushed.

-

By the time they were done, Danny was exhausted.

They climbed into bed without a word, the room dimly lit by the moon through the window.

They didn’t talk about the next day, didn’t need to.

Their bodies gravitated toward each other naturally, like they always had these last few weeks.

Steve let out a soft exhale. "Last night here."

Danny hummed, pressing his forehead lightly against Steve’s shoulder. "Yeah."

A beat of silence stretched between them.

Then, quietly, Danny murmured, "You ready?"

Steve exhaled, shifting slightly before turning his head toward Danny, their foreheads nearly brushing.

He let his weight settle, his head resting against Danny’s, their breaths warm and steady in the quiet of the room.

His fingers traced slow, grounding patterns over Danny’s back, tender and unhurried, like he was committing the feel of him to memory, like he needed to remind himself that this—this closeness, this warmth, this steady presence beside him—wasn’t going anywhere.

"Yeah," he murmured, voice low, quiet, but full of something real, something steady, something certain.

Danny exhaled softly, his hand pressing lightly against Steve’s chest, right over his heart, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat beneath his palm.

He nudged closer, nuzzling further, his breath fanning warm against Steve’s skin.

"Good," he murmured, voice barely more than a whisper, but full of something whole, something settled, something that had taken them far too long to get here.

Neither of them moved for a long moment.

Just breathing together, holding each other, feeling the quiet shift of something that was no longer waiting to happen.

-

Chapter 34: 34

-
By the time morning rolled around, the house was buzzing with energy.

Mary was finishing breakfast, Joanie was practically vibrating with excitement, and Charlie had already called twice to ask when they’d be landing.

Steve sat at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, watching it all unfold around him.

For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like an outsider looking in.

Danny caught him smiling, a soft, quiet thing, the kind that wasn’t forced or held back.

And for the first time, Steve looked at peace.

Danny smirked, nudging him. "You getting all nostalgic on me, McGarrett?"

Steve rolled his eyes, but he didn’t deny it.

-

When it was finally time to go, Mary hugged Steve tight, holding on just a second longer than necessary, her fingers pressing into his back like she was trying to make the moment last.

She whispered something just for him, too quiet for Danny to catch.

Steve closed his eyes for half a beat, nodding slightly.

Whatever she said, it mattered.

When they finally pulled apart, Mary’s eyes were bright, but she covered it quickly with a smirk.

“Don’t be a stranger, big brother.”

Steve huffed out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You’ll regret saying that when I actually visit.”
Mary grinned. “Maybe. But Joanie’s already booked us a trip, so I guess we’re stuck with you.”

Steve held her gaze for a beat longer, his voice quieter now, steady in that way only he could be.
"Mare… if you need anything, you just ask me, okay?"

Mary’s smirk softened slightly, something warmer flickering beneath it.

She nudged his shoulder. “I know, Steve. But we’re good now.”

Steve nodded, but his eyes lingered on her for just a second longer, like he was silently reminding her that it wasn’t just words. That if she ever needed him, no matter the reason, he’d be there.
But Joanie, however, was not as willing to say goodbye.

She clung to Steve’s leg, her little arms wrapped tight, her tiny face scrunched up in stubborn determination.

“No go!” she declared, her voice wobbly but fierce, pressing her cheek against his knee as if sheer willpower would keep him from leaving.

In her arms, Bunny and Snowy were tucked close, her most important treasures, hugged tight against her chest like a shield.

Bunny, her first doudou, the one she had never slept without.

Snowy, the white stuffed bear from their road trip, a reminder of the adventure, of Uncle Steve and Uncle Danno keeping her safe, of all the stories and songs in the car, the stops for snacks, the way they made her giggle until her tummy hurt.

They were her heroes, even if she was too little to explain why.

Steve crouched slowly, mindful of his stitches, and gently smoothed a hand over her curls. “We come back, kiddo. Promise.”

Joanie lifted her head just enough to peer up at him, big, serious eyes searching his face for any sign of trickery. “Pwomise?” she repeated, her voice small and unsure, gripping Bunny’s floppy ear with one hand and Snowy’s paw with the other, as if they, too, needed the promise.

Steve nodded, his voice soft but certain. “Promise, JoJo.”

That seemed to help a little, but she still wasn’t letting go.

Instead, she turned her attention to Danny, her little brows furrowing, her grip on Bunny tightening as she worked through the next step in her toddler logic.

She studied him for a moment, then tilted her head. “You too?”

Danny sighed dramatically, crouching beside them, matching her serious expression.

“I dunno, kid. Your uncle is kinda hard work, you know? Gotta see if I survive traveling with him first.”

 

Joanie’s nose scrunched in confusion, but she giggled anyway, her tiny fingers patting Snowy’s head as if he, too, thought Uncle Danno was being silly.

Danny grinned, nudging her lightly. “Alright, alright. I promise, too.”

Joanie seemed satisfied with this, but just as Danny was about to stand up, she gasped, remembering something very, very important.

"PAN-CAPES?!"

Danny blinked, then let out a choked laugh, caught completely off guard. "What?"

Joanie bounced on her feet, her curls bobbing as she clutched her doudous even tighter. "Pancapes! When visit!"

Danny bit back a grin, realizing what she meant.

"Ah. Pancakes. But... you mean the special kind, right?"

Joanie nodded furiously, her excitement too big for her little body to contain.

"PAN-CAPES! UNCLE DANNY MAKES PAN-CAPES!"

Danny laughed, holding up a hand. "Alright, alright, you got it. When you come visit, I’ll make you pancapes. The best in the world."

Joanie’s eyes went wide with excitement, and she immediately whipped her head toward Mary, full of toddler urgency.

"Mama! Pancapes!"

Mary sighed, shaking her head fondly, but crouched down beside her daughter, stroking a gentle hand over her back.

"Yeah, baby. We’ll visit soon. I promise."

Joanie grinned, fully satisfied now, and gave Bunny and Snowy one last reassuring squeeze, as if confirming that everything was officially settled.

Finally—finally—she let go of Steve’s leg, stepping back, her little hands still firmly clutching her doudous.

She gave them one last, long look, then nodded decisively, as if she had personally handled all negotiations and they were now free to leave.

-

The car was loaded, the morning air still crisp as they stepped outside. But the moment stretched, lingering longer than any of them had expected.

Mary grinned, crossing her arms. "You two try not to get into too much trouble."

Danny scoffed. "Not possible."

Steve smirked. "We’ll try."

Mary rolled her eyes, but there was warmth in her gaze, something quiet and knowing.

Joanie, standing beside her, held onto Bunny and Snowy, her little face bright with a mixture of excitement and farewell.

Then, after one last lingering look at the place they had called home, Steve turned to Danny. Danny raised an eyebrow. "You ready?"

Steve exhaled, gaze steady, certain. "Yeah. Let’s go home." Danny nodded.

And with that, they got in the car, together.

Montana faded behind them. Hawaii waited ahead.

And this time?

Neither of them were leaving the other behind.

-

Danny exhaled slowly, watching the dark stretch of the Pacific through the plane window. The cabin was dim, quiet, except for the low hum of the engines and the occasional murmur of passengers.

His fingers drummed absently against the armrest—not restless, not anxious, just there, because he had never been someone who sat still for too long.

Beside him, Steve shifted, adjusting in his seat.

It was small, barely noticeable, but Danny caught it anyway—the slight wince, the way Steve’s fingers curled momentarily into his pant leg.

Danny immediately zeroed in, turning toward him. "You okay?"

Steve huffed, shaking his head with that little smirk that was supposed to be reassuring but just made Danny narrow his eyes more. “I’m good. Just a little sore.”

Danny wasn’t buying it. "Yeah, well, let me remind you that a ‘little sore’ is how you ended up with internal bleeding that one time, so excuse me if I don’t take your word for it, Steven."

Steve sighed, fondly exasperated, and reached out, his hand settling on Danny’s arm, fingers curling just slightly before sliding in a slow, steady motion.

A soft, absentminded caress. Up and down. Grounding. Familiar. “Relax, Danno. I’m fine.”

Danny grumbled under his breath, but his eyes lingered on Steve’s face for a moment longer, as if making sure.

And when Steve shifted again, easing into a more comfortable position without another grimace, Danny let it go—but not before resting his hand briefly on Steve’s forearm, a silent warning.
Steve just smirked, nudging their knees together.

Danny rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away.

Instead, he stretched his legs as much as he could in the cramped space, letting their arms rest together, solid and warm.

They had stopped pretending that any of it was an accident days ago. Maybe longer.

Steve glanced at him, brow raised, but it wasn’t a question. Just acknowledgement.

Danny hummed. “I think I forgot how miserable coach is.”

Steve smirked, relaxed, casual, the kind of smile that had been creeping back onto his face more and more lately. “You could’ve splurged on first class, Danno.”

Danny scoffed. “Not the point. The point is, I should get extra miles for dealing with your oversized self taking up half my space.”

Steve chuckled, low and easy, and Danny felt it more than he heard it.

Without thinking—without hesitating—Danny let his hand drift, his fingers brushing Steve’s wrist, tracing absent, lazy patterns over his skin.

Steve tilted his head slightly, shifting his hand just enough that Danny’s fingers slipped between his, easy and natural, like it belonged there.

—

The flight stretched on, quiet and easy, the warmth between them settling into something unshakable.

At some point, Danny drifted off, lulled by the steady hum of the plane, the comforting weight of Steve beside him.

By the time he stirred awake, the captain was announcing their descent into Honolulu International Airport.

Danny blinked, rolling his shoulders, immediately aware of the way Steve’s arm was stretched across the space between them, resting against his.

Steve turned toward him, smirking "Welcome back."

Danny grunted, rubbing his face. "Yeah, yeah. You drool on me?"

Steve tilted his head, mock thoughtful. "Not this time."

Danny huffed, but there was no bite to it. Because this? This was them.

The teasing, the easy warmth, the way Steve’s thumb was still absently brushing along the side of Danny’s hand, like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

Like it was just what they did now. And it was.

---

The landing was smooth, the wheels touching down with barely a jolt.

And the second they stepped off the plane—Danny felt it.

The scent of salt and humidity, thick and warm, wrapping around him like a memory, like something he had never really left behind.

Hawaii. Home.

Danny let out a slow breath, adjusting the strap of his carry-on, already scanning the terminal like he’d never left.

But beside him, Steve wasn’t moving.

Danny turned, about to say something, when he caught the look on Steve’s face.

His expression was still, not tense, but… something. Something layered, something just slightly caught between past and present.

Because it had been three years.

And there had been moments—a lot of moments—where Steve had truly believed he would never come back here.

Yet, here he was. Here they were.

Danny watched as Steve took a slow breath, his eyes scanning the terminal, the banners, the sea of faces, the signs in Hawaiian, the sound of voices speaking in that rhythm he hadn’t heard in years.

And for just a second, he could see it, he flicker of something too big to name.

A little overwhelmed. A little unsteady. And also, completely at peace.

Danny didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t push, didn’t joke, didn’t interrupt.

He just watched.

Watched as Steve exhaled, as his shoulders settled, as the tension that had been there—not visible, but always present—finally started to ease.

Then, without a word, Danny reached over, brushing his fingers against Steve’s wrist before linking them together.

Grounding him. Bringing him back.

Steve looked at him then, eyes flickering with something deep, something steady.

Danny squeezed his hand once, just a little. Not to pull him forward. Just to remind him—he was here.

That they were here. Together.

—

Charlie was waiting outside baggage claim, standing on his toes, scanning the crowd with sharp, eager eyes.

Danny spotted him instantly, that familiar wave of fondness tightening in his chest.

His kid.

His bright, smiling, too-smart-for-his-own-good kid, waiting to greet him, completely unaware of the monumental shift about to hit him square in the chest.

Danny smirked to himself.

Oh, this was gonna be good.

Charlie’s face lit up when he saw Danny, and within seconds, he was moving, weaving through the crowd with easy strides, his expression open and eager.

Danny barely had time to drop his bag before Charlie was in front of him, grinning wide, throwing his arms briefly around him in a quick, solid hug.

Danny let out a satisfied sigh, ruffling his hair as he pulled back. "Hey, kid."

Charlie stepped back, rolling his eyes but grinning anyway. "You act like it’s been months."

Danny snorted, squeezing his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. Can’t a guy be happy to see his own kid?"

Charlie huffed but didn’t argue, his grip still tight for a second longer before he finally let go. "Missed you."

Danny smiled. "Missed you too, buddy."

Then, just as Charlie was about to launch into something undoubtedly basketball-related, his gaze shifted—and froze.

Danny barely bit back a grin.

Because yeah—there it was.

Charlie’s shock was instant, his eyes going wide, mouth parting slightly, as he stared past Danny’s shoulder, caught completely off guard.

Steve, who had been hanging back a few feet, hands in his pockets, offered a small, tentative smile.

“Hey, kid.”

For a second, nothing happened.

Then—

"Uncle Steve?!"

Charlie moved forward, quick but controlled, his excitement muted only by the knowledge that Steve wasn’t at full strength.

Danny saw it happen in real time, the moment Charlie remembered.

The way he started to rush forward but hesitated just enough, his body language shifting from pure excitement to something a little more careful.

Instead of launching himself at Steve like he might have a few years ago, Charlie slowed just enough, stepping in close and gripping Steve in a firm, steady hug—mindful, but still warm and tight.

Steve caught him easily, exhaling a small laugh.

"Hey, buddy."

Danny could see the relief in Steve’s face, the way his shoulders eased slightly, like the weight of the last three years was lifting—just a little.

Charlie held on for a second longer, his grip secure but not crushing, then stepped back, his eyes flicking over Steve, assessing him the way only a Williams kid could.

“You okay?” he asked, voice still bright but slightly more cautious.
Steve huffed a laugh, squeezing his shoulder. "Yeah, kiddo. I'm good."

Charlie’s brows furrowed slightly, like he wasn’t sure if he fully believed that, but after a beat, he nodded, accepting it for now.

Then, his expression shifted, the shock still lingering, the realization fully settling in.

"Wait—you’re here? Like, actually here?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, I’m here."

Charlie blinked, looking between them, his expression shifting into calculation, like he was mentally connecting dots they hadn’t given him yet.
"For how long?"

Danny cleared his throat, shifting slightly. "That… uh. That’s something we’re gonna talk about."

Charlie stared at them both, his mind clearly working through the implications.

"Wait—are you moving back?!"

Danny opened his mouth, but Steve beat him to it.

"I’d like to, yeah," Steve said, his voice steady but laced with something softer, something hesitant but hopeful. "What do you think?"

Charlie looked up at him, eyes wide, like he wasn’t sure if he could believe it yet.

Danny knew his son—knew that even if he wasn’t saying much, he was feeling everything.

Steve met his gaze, softer now, still careful—but not running.

Charlie exhaled, his face bewildered for a second, as if processing what Steve had just said.

Then, his smile broke through. "It would be great!"

And just like that, the disbelief gave way to something real—something that looked a whole lot like hope.

Then, after a beat, he grinned, shoving Steve’s arm gently—enough to be playful, but still careful.
"Okay. But if you stay, you gotta come to my basketball games."

Steve huffed a laugh. "Deal."

Danny snorted, shaking his head.

Of course that was Charlie’s priority.

Then, nudging Steve lightly, Danny murmured, "Told you he’d be happy."

Steve glanced at him, and for a second, there was something unreadable in his expression—something like relief, something like quiet gratitude, something like home.
Then, he nodded, squeezing Danny’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You did.”

-

The drive back was easy, full of Charlie’s nonstop chatter as he bounced between topics—basketball, school, some ridiculous viral video Danny hadn’t seen yet.

Danny let him talk, letting the familiar rhythm of his son’s voice fill the car, but his attention kept drifting to the passenger seat.

To Steve.

To the way his eyes flickered over familiar streets, lingering on the curves of roads he used to take without thinking. On the way the ocean stretched out beside them, endless and shimmering in the late afternoon light.

On the city he’d left behind.

It was all there.

The memories. The nostalgia. The weight of what once was, what could have been, and what still might be.

But it wasn’t heavy.

Not anymore.

Danny exhaled beside him, stretching one hand over the wheel before he shot Steve a look. “Okay, Steve, listen up.”

Steve glanced at him, one brow raised, already smirking. “Yeah?”

Danny pointed a warning finger at him. “You are not in charge of anything, okay? No plans, no running off, no McGarrett nonsense. You’re still healing, you hear me?”
Steve smirked. “I hear you, Danno.”

Danny narrowed his eyes, like he wasn’t buying it for a second.

“You say that, but I know you. So let’s set expectations right now—”

“Dad,” Charlie cut in, already grinning from the backseat. “You know you’re just gonna end up yelling at him anyway.”

Danny threw his hands up, eyes still on the road. “That’s not the point, Charlie!”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head, before his hand moved—quick, casual, deliberate.

He reached out, fingers brushing over Danny’s, squeezing briefly. Steady. Certain.

Danny’s grip tightened just slightly before Steve pulled back, neither of them saying anything about it.

Because they didn’t need to.

The moment settled.

Steve looked out the window again, taking it all in, but this time he wasn’t just looking.

This time, he was here.

Not just passing through. Not just revisiting a place that used to be his. He was home.

And Danny was right beside him. And that? That was everything.

-

Chapter 35: 35

The house looked the same.

Steve had expected something different. Some moment of realization the second he stepped inside—some force knocking the air out of his lungs, something shifting under his feet, some deep, gut-punching sense of loss or nostalgia.

But no. It was just… a house.

His house. His empty, quiet house.

The house he had left to Danny and the kids when he was gone, thinking—hoping—that at least it would serve as something for them. Some kind of home. Some kind of anchor.

But they had left too.

Because staying had been impossible. Because this house wasn’t just wood and nails and memories.

It was a ghost.

It was too much. Too much history. Too many echoes of things long gone.

Danny had driven them from the airport, bickering the whole way about who was the better driver (Steve, obviously, and Danny, according to Danny), filling the space between them with something easy, something familiar.

But now, standing in the living room, watching dust swirl in the sunlight, Steve knew.

This wasn’t home.

Maybe it never really had been.

Oh, there had been good moments.

Drinking beers with Danny on the lanai, letting the sunset stretch between them.
Arguing over sports scores on the couch, throwing popcorn at each other like idiots.
Surfing with Grace, helping her find her balance, watching her grow into the water like it was second nature.
Building sandcastles with Charlie when he was younger, his laughter loud and bright, always believing bigger was better.
Barbecues with the team, closing cases, pretending nothing was changing when everything was.

But the foundation had always been cracked.

Because this house held ghosts.

His father—murdered right here, in this very room.
His mother—vanishing, reappearing, vanishing again, never staying long enough to be real.
His grief—circling back on itself, never settling, never letting him move forward.

Charlie, ever curious, was already bounding through the space, touching surfaces, running his fingers over things he hadn’t seen in years, looking around like he was revisiting an old chapter in a book he hadn’t quite finished reading.

Danny stood behind Steve, just a step away, arms crossed, watching him carefully.

Waiting.

Steve exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw, fingers brushing absently over the rough stubble there. “I think I’m gonna sell it.”

Danny blinked, his arms unfolding slightly. “What?”

Steve turned to meet his gaze. “The house. I think I’m done with it.”

Danny’s expression shifted, his posture relaxing, though there was still something unreadable in his eyes. “You sure? You just got back, babe.”

Steve nodded, slow but certain. “Yeah. I—” He hesitated, searching for the right words, the ones that wouldn’t feel like a betrayal, wouldn’t feel like a dismissal of everything this place had been. “This place was never really good, you know?” His voice was quieter now, his gaze distant, flickering over the room, over the dust settling into corners, over the life that had once filled these walls. “I get why you left it too. It’s just… full of memories.” He swallowed. “And not all good ones.”

He took a breath, steady, measured.

“My dad. My mom.” The words hung in the air between them, heavy but resolute.

And then—softer. More final.

“I need to move on from this. Once and for all.”

Danny was quiet for a long beat. Then, finally, he nodded. “Okay.”

Steve tilted his head slightly, studying him. “Just like that?”

Danny smirked, hands dropping to his hips. “Hey, it’s your decision, babe. And for once, I don’t have to argue with you about it? I’ll take the win.”

Steve let out a soft chuckle, stepping forward, closing some of the space between them. “Guess that means I need a new place to live.”

Danny’s breath caught for just a second. Barely noticeable—but Steve caught it.

Because they both knew where that new place was.

Danny exhaled, rolling his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, well. Guess we’ll have to figure that out.”

Steve’s lips twitched, his voice lighter now. “Guess we will.”

And then—before he could move away, before the weight of this house and everything in it could settle too much—Danny reached out.
Fingers curling around Steve’s wrist.
Gentle. Absentminded. But felt everywhere.

Danny exhaled, a slow, measured breath, his thumb brushing over the inside of Steve’s wrist, grounding, anchoring, keeping him here.

Steve turned fully to him, and Danny didn’t let go—just held on, steady and sure, like he was making sure Steve didn’t drift too far into his own head, too far into the past.

“You’re really back, huh?” Danny murmured, his voice quieter now, like he just needed to say it out loud. To hear it. To believe it.

Steve let out a breath, something easing in his chest.

And then—he did what felt right.

He closed the space between them.

Slowly, carefully, Steve leaned in, his forehead resting against Danny’s temple. Not for a second. Not fleeting. But long enough to breathe each other in, to settle, to let the reality of this sink beneath their ribs.

Danny didn’t pull away. Didn’t make a joke. Didn’t ruin the moment.

Instead, he turned his head just enough, just slightly, until their temples pressed fully together. Until their weight shifted in the smallest way—anchoring them both.

And they stayed.
Stayed like that, not moving, not rushing, just letting it be.
Letting it be them.

Steve’s breath slowed, steady, his chest rising and falling in sync with Danny’s, like he had finally stopped bracing for impact. Like he had finally stopped waiting for the ground to disappear beneath him.

Danny’s fingers curled around Steve’s wrist again, warm and sure—not holding him still, but keeping him close. A quiet promise in the way his thumb traced slow, lazy circles against his skin.

Steve’s hand lifted in return, fingers dragging lightly up Danny’s arm, over his shoulder, up to the nape of his neck—where it just rested, his touch gentle, reassuring.

Like they had always done this.
Like they had always been here.
And still—neither of them moved.
Neither of them needed to.

Because this—this quiet, this warmth, this steadiness—this was it.
This was what they had been moving toward all along.

Finally, after a long, slow moment, Danny exhaled, his voice low, steady, unshaken.

“Come on, babe.” He gave Steve’s wrist one last squeeze, grounding them both. “Let’s go home.”

And this time, Steve knew exactly where home was.

-

When they pulled up to Danny’s place, Steve hesitated, his fingers loosely gripping his knee, his gaze fixed on the house in front of him like he was seeing something foreign. Something that didn’t quite belong to him—yet.

Danny watched him, catching the way his jaw tensed just slightly, the way he took it all in, like he was waiting for something to click into place. “Something wrong, babe?”

Steve blinked, glancing over, then back at the house. “It’s… nice.”

Danny smirked, recognizing that tone instantly.

The one that said Steve was feeling something bigger than he could put into words.

“Yeah, it’s a nice little house,” Danny agreed easily. “Comfortable. Cozy. And, y’know, doesn’t cost a kidney—so, yeah.”

Steve huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. It’s cool.”

He said it lightly, but Danny saw the way his shoulders eased, just a little.

Saw the way he let himself sit with it.

With this.
With the fact that this wasn’t just some temporary stop.
That this wasn’t just Danny’s place anymore.

“Oh! Uncle Steve,” Charlie piped up from the back seat, leaning between them slightly, his excitement barely contained. “We put up a basketball hoop in the driveway last year. You gotta check it out.”

Steve turned slightly, eyebrows raising. “Yeah?”

Charlie nodded enthusiastically, a grin stretching across his face. “Yeah. You gotta see if you still got your shot. When you feel better, in a couple weeks… we could play.”

Steve huffed another soft laugh, something warm flickering behind his eyes. “You challenging me, kid?”

Charlie smirked. “Dunno, old man. Think you can keep up?”

Danny snorted, glancing at Steve. “Well, you’re not wrong, buddy. He has been out of the game for a while.”

Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “You two are the worst.”

Charlie grinned, sitting back. “Just sayin’, you better be ready.”

Steve glanced back toward the house, toward the driveway where that basketball hoop waited.

It wasn’t much. But it was something to look forward to. Something real.

Danny grinned, nudging him slightly. “Wait ‘til you see inside… there’s a little lanai too.”

Charlie piped up again, his voice casual but his smirk obvious. “Yeah, and no spare room, so you and Dad are gonna have to share.”

Danny choked on absolutely nothing, whipping around to glare at his kid.

“Excuse me? You got a death wish, Charles Williams?”

Charlie just grinned wider, completely unfazed.

Steve smirked, barely holding back a chuckle. “Good to know, buddy. Appreciate the heads-up.”

Danny groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Unbelievable. I’m being mutinied in my own house.”

Steve glanced at him, and something settled between them—something quiet but steady, something real.

A house was just a house.
But this?
This was home.

And for the first time, Steve wasn’t just looking at a place to stay. He was looking at where he belonged.

And when Danny reached for the door, throwing a glance back at him, waiting, Steve didn’t hesitate.

He followed.

-

They fell into it easily, a new kind of routine—not quite like before, not quite like Montana, but something that was theirs.

Something that was home.

The first few days were a blend of old and new, slipping back into who they had always been, except now… there were no walls left between them.

Steve stayed home to rest, though ‘resting’ for him meant walking the length of the beach for as long as his body allowed, standing at the shoreline with his feet sinking into the sand, the sound of the waves steady, familiar, pulling him back into himself.

Danny gave him space to do it, because he knew.

Because he understood what Steve was doing—not just walking, not just watching the ocean, but relearning how to be here.

Relearning Hawaii.
Relearning himself.

And while Steve reconnected with the island, Danny’s days were spent at his office, easing back into work, but only on paperwork for now. He wasn’t taking new cases yet, not while things were still settling, not while his life was still shifting into something else, something more.

Steve had no real reason to be there—but that didn’t stop him from showing up anyway.

It started casually enough. A text here, a call there. Then, one afternoon, Steve just walked in, hands in his pockets, leaning against the doorway like he had all the time in the world.
Danny didn’t even look up. “Bored?”

Steve smirked, unbothered, too at ease for someone who had clearly just wandered in. “You tell me. You look like you're having the time of your life.”

Danny rolled his eyes, but he didn’t tell him to leave.

Some days, he came under the excuse of grabbing lunch. Other times, he didn’t even bother with an excuse, just strolled in, sat down, and made himself comfortable, like it was his office too.
Danny would be deep into his reports, brow furrowed, fingers tapping absently against the desk, when he’d feel it—Steve’s presence.

A hand resting lightly on his shoulder, a warmth that lingered as Steve leaned over, making some smartass comment about his paperwork.
A brush of fingertips against his forearm, fleeting and casual, as Steve reached for Danny’s coffee without asking.
A nudge of his knee under the desk, a silent conversation that needed no words.

Touches that had become instinct.

And Danny let him.

Because this wasn’t new anymore. This was just them.

When Steve stretched out lazily in the chair across from him, arms crossed behind his head, watching Danny work with a quiet smirk, Danny didn’t tell him to leave.
He just kept working, shaking his head fondly, barely sparing him a glance, because Steve being here felt like second nature now.

When Steve walked past and let his hand linger on Danny’s back, fingers dragging slowly down his spine before he moved away, Danny registered the feeling, and hell if he didn’t feel it everywhere.

Because this man—this man was so much.
So much presence. So much sensation. So much love.
So much everything.

And Danny let himself feel it all.

Steve would sit in that chair, knee against Danny’s, fingers idly playing with the edge of a folder, completely at ease.

Danny let him stay, never questioning it, never asking why—because he already knew.

Because this was their routine now. And they liked it.

Charlie, of course, was thrilled to have them both in one place. His energy was boundless, dragging Steve outside whenever he could, eager to show him everything he had missed. “Uncle Steve, you gotta check out the basketball hoop in the driveway!” he announced one afternoon, eyes bright with excitement. “We put it up last year, and I’ve been practicing. When you feel better, in a couple weeks, we can play.”

Steve smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway. “Yeah? You challenging me, kid?”

Charlie grinned, standing a little taller. “Dunno, old man. Think you can keep up?”

From the kitchen, Danny snorted, shaking his head as he sipped his coffee. “Well, he’s not wrong. You have been out of the game for a while.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at him before turning back to Charlie, amusement flickering behind them. “Alright, fine. When I’m back at full strength, we’ll see who’s still got it.”

Charlie grinned, satisfied. “Better be ready.”

And Steve, staring at the hoop in the driveway, felt something settle inside him. Something real.

-

Chapter 36: 36

It took a few days before Steve finally made his way back to HQ. He hadn’t exactly avoided it—hadn’t even been consciously putting it off—but there had been so much to adjust to in his return. His routine had changed, his priorities had shifted, and coming back here?

Coming back meant confronting the past in a way he hadn’t yet.

Walking through those familiar doors felt… strange. Not bad. Not painful. Just different. Like stepping into an old life that had kept moving without him, one he no longer belonged to in the same way.
The building smelled the same—stale coffee, ocean air drifting in through cracked windows, the faintest trace of gun oil and old paper files. The floors still gleamed under fluorescent lighting, the weight of history lingering in every desk, every case board, every long-forgotten takeout container in the fridge.

But the people?

The people had changed.

Lou wasn’t here anymore—not in this way. Retired for nearly two years now, he had finally done what none of them ever thought he would—he had walked away. He was still on the island, still close, still a constant presence in their lives, but he wasn’t running things here. And that absence? That felt bigger than Steve expected.

And Danny—Danny wasn’t here either.

Maybe that was the strangest part. Because for so long, HQ and Danny had been one and the same in Steve’s mind. His voice had been woven into the very fabric of this place—loud, exasperated, always a little too animated for a government office. The thought of Five-0 running without Danny Williams stomping around, throwing out wild theories, waving his arms in frustration? It didn’t quite compute.

But life had moved on.

And standing here now, Steve had to accept that.

Tani and Junior were the ones still holding things down, the ones who had stayed when so many others had gone. They had grown into the roles they once hesitated to fill. Now, their confidence was unwavering, their command of the space undeniable.

Quinn and Cole were here too, filling the gaps, rounding out the team. The new Five-0.

And it wasn’t weird. Not in the way he had expected.

It was… good.

Steve sat with them, catching up, listening to their stories, hearing about the cases he wasn’t part of anymore. They filled him in, slipping easily into the camaraderie they had always shared, never making him feel like an outsider, even though, in many ways, he was now.

It was easier than he thought it would be.

There was no awkwardness. No hesitation. Just familiarity.

Just a reminder that leaving hadn’t erased anything.

Tani smirked at him over her coffee, tilting her head. “You gonna try and tell me you’re not itching to get back in the action?”

Steve huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I think I’ve been benched, Rey.”

Junior chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “For now. Give it a couple weeks.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his chest lingered.

Because even though this wasn’t his team anymore… even though things had changed…

They were still his people.

And that? That was enough.

-

It was later that afternoon when Steve finally met up with Lou.

They chose a spot outside, a place near the beach, where the breeze carried the sound of waves in the distance.

Lou was already waiting for him when Steve arrived, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, a knowing smirk on his face.

"Took you long enough, McGarrett."

Steve let out a breath, shaking his head as he sat across from him. "Yeah, well. Had to get my bearings first."
Lou snorted, giving him a look. "And?"

Steve hesitated for half a second before nodding. "It’s good to be back."

Lou studied him for a beat, then nodded, satisfied. "Damn right it is."

They fell into easy conversation, catching up the way only they could—trading stories, complaining about things that hadn’t changed, reminiscing about the chaos they once called a job.

At one point, Lou shook his head, grinning. "You know, when you left, I thought maybe you’d actually take a break. Maybe go sit on a beach somewhere, drink something with an umbrella in it, relax for once in your life."

Steve smirked. "That was the plan."

Lou raised an eyebrow. "And now?"

Steve exhaled, gaze shifting slightly toward the water. "Now… I think I’m staying."

Lou nodded slowly, taking a sip of his drink. "Good."

Steve looked back at him, a little surprised at how quick the response was.

Lou grinned, shaking his head. "C’mon, man. You didn’t really think you belonged anywhere else, did you?"

Steve huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t know. Thought maybe I did."

Lou smirked. "Yeah? And how’d that work out for you?"

Steve sighed, shaking his head. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"

Lou grinned. "Little bit."

Steve just chuckled, shaking his head.

For a long moment, they sat there in comfortable silence, the sound of the ocean stretching between them.

Then Lou leaned forward slightly, setting his drink down with a quiet thud against the table, his gaze leveling with Steve’s. "You know, Danny was a mess when you left."

Steve’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t look away. "I know."

Lou scoffed. "Do you? ‘Cause I was here, man. I saw it."

Steve swallowed, gripping the edge of the table. "I thought—" He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

Lou let out a deep breath, shaking his head. "Yeah, well. Danny thought you were his right thing."

Steve looked away, the weight of those words pressing against his chest.

Lou didn’t let up. "I watched him, man. He tried to move on, tried to do what he thought you wanted him to do. He got that office, kept himself busy, but he wasn’t right. Not really. You leaving hit him harder than he let on."

Steve swallowed. "I didn’t—"

"Didn’t think?" Lou cut in, his voice calm but pointed. "Didn’t realize? Oh, I know, McGarrett. You and Williams, you two were always dancing around each other, playing dumb, pretending it wasn’t what it was. But I ain't blind, and neither was anyone else."

Steve let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Lou—"

Lou held up a hand. "Nah, listen to me. If you’re back, if you’re really here, then put your head out of your ass and do something about it. Because I sat back for years, watching you two idiots circle each other like you had all the time in the world. And then you up and left. And you know what? Danny did exactly what I expected him to do—he let you go because he thought that’s what you needed."

Steve’s chest felt tight, a different kind of weight pressing down now.

Lou leaned back, crossing his arms. "But you’re here now. So what’s your excuse?"

Steve didn’t have one.

Lou let the silence stretch, then smirked, shaking his head. "You and Danny have been stuck in level two for a decade, man. Time to take it to level three."

Steve huffed out a breath, shaking his head. "Level three?"

Lou grinned. "Yeah. You know. The part where you stop pretending, stop being cowards, and actually do something about it."

Steve sighed, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips now. "You always this pushy?"

Lou shrugged. "Only when people I give a damn about are being dumb."

Steve leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, smirking. "Well, we're lucky then, because we didn’t wait for your input..."

Lou’s eyebrows shot up, his drink pausing halfway to his lips. "You mean what I think you mean?"

Steve grinned, nodding. "Yeah, man. Danny and I, we… passed level three. Hell, we’re at level four now."

Lou nearly choked on his drink. "Whoa, whoa! What the hell, man?! I didn’t want that much information!"

Steve barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, come on, Lou! What do you think I was telling you? Jesus."

Lou wiped at his mouth, still looking vaguely traumatized. "I don’t know, McGarrett! You had that smug look, and I thought—damn, never mind. I walked into that one."

Steve smirked. "You did. But really, all I meant was, you were right. We stopped being cowards. We’re living in Danny’s house. Together. For real this time."

Lou took a moment, then nodded, a wide, genuine smile spreading across his face. "Alright. That’s great, man. I mean it. I’m happy for you two."

Steve nodded, a warmth settling in his chest. "Thanks, Lou. Really."

Lou sipped his drink, then smirked. "So? When’s the wedding?"

Steve huffed, shaking his head. "We just figured things out, Lou. Let us breathe a little before you start picking out tuxedos."

Lou shrugged, his smirk firmly in place. "Hey, no rush. But seriously, we came from so far that you can’t lose any more time, right?"

Steve paused, the words settling deep.

Because Lou was right.

They had wasted too much time already.

Years of dancing around it, denying it, letting life pull them apart instead of pulling each other closer.

Steve ran a hand over his jaw, exhaling. "Yeah." His voice was quieter now, but steady. "Yeah, you’re not wrong."

Lou nodded, satisfied. "Damn right, I’m not. And when it happens? I better get a front-row seat."

Steve shook his head, but he couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips.

Because, honestly?

Lou might not be wrong.

-

Steve’s four-week doctor’s appointment had gone better than expected. His recovery was on track, his progress steady, and for once, even the doctor seemed satisfied.

Danny, of course, had been buzzing with barely contained relief, his worry finally easing enough for him to stop hovering every second of the day.

They celebrated that evening the only way they knew how—snuggled up on the couch, wrapped in the laziest, coziest version of themselves.

A movie played in the background, but neither of them were really paying attention.

Danny was half sprawled against Steve, his head resting just under Steve’s chin, while Steve had one arm draped over Danny’s waist, fingers lazily tracing circles over his back.

“You’re warm,” Danny muttered, burrowing closer, voice thick with contentment.

Steve smirked, squeezing him lightly. “That’s what happens when you steal all my body heat.”

Danny let out a half-hearted grunt, barely opening his eyes. “Shut up. You like it.”

Steve chuckled. Yeah. Yeah, he did.

Danny hummed, shifting slightly. "I could sleep right here."

Steve grinned. "You already are, Danno."

Danny huffed, not even bothering to argue. "Fine. But if my back hurts tomorrow, I’m blaming you."

Steve pressed a lazy kiss into Danny’s hair. "Blame all you want. Still not moving."

Danny sighed dramatically. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you love it," Steve murmured.

Danny just smiled, eyes slipping shut. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head."

They were ridiculous. And perfect.

And maybe it had taken them a decade to get here, but they were here now.

And that was all that mattered.

-

The next day, Steve picked up Charlie from school, much to the kid’s absolute delight.

Charlie came bounding out, backpack slung over one shoulder, his grin wide and bright as he spotted Steve waiting by the car. “Uncle Steve! You’re here!”

Steve smirked, ruffling his hair as Charlie hopped in. “Told you I would be, didn’t I?”

Charlie buckled in, practically vibrating with excitement. “You’re coming to practice, right? You gotta see me play.”

Steve chuckled, pulling onto the road. “That’s the plan, kiddo.”

Charlie frowned slightly, glancing at him. "You sure you're good to sit on those hard bleachers for an hour?"

Steve huffed, amused. "What, you think I’m too old for it?"

Charlie smirked, so much like Danny it was almost scary. "I mean, you are basically ancient."

Steve mock-gasped. "Excuse me?"

Charlie grinned. "Hey, I call it like I see it."

Steve narrowed his eyes. "Alright, smart guy. We’ll see who’s ancient when I get back on the court."

Charlie laughed, shaking his head. "You’re gonna regret that challenge."

Steve watched him train from the sidelines, arms crossed, his heart swelling with pride.

Charlie was a damn good player. Focused, quick, smart.

And more than that?
He was happy.

And it hit Steve, right then, how much he had missed.

How many games, how many pickups, how many moments just like this had passed without him.

But he was here now.
And Charlie knew that.

And when practice was over, when Charlie ran up to him, beaming, sweaty, and proud, Steve clapped a firm hand on his shoulder. “You crushed it out there, buddy.”

Charlie grinned, practically glowing. “You think?”

Steve nodded, completely serious. “Yeah. And I can’t wait to see you do it again.”

Charlie beamed, and in that moment, Steve knew—he wasn’t just making up for lost time. He was here to stay.

-

Steve had never been one to hesitate.

And Lou? Lou had been right.

They had wasted enough time.

So that night, Steve made a decision.

A real one.

And when Danny walked into the house, dropping his keys on the counter, he almost missed it at first.

The dress shirt.
The cologne.

The way Steve was standing there, casual but completely deliberate.

Danny blinked, narrowing his eyes. “You got somewhere to be, babe?”

Steve smirked, stepping closer, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. And so do you.”

Danny squinted at him. “What?”

Steve tilted his head toward the bedroom. “Go change.”

Danny didn’t move, still eyeing him suspiciously. “Why?”

Steve let out a slow, amused breath, shaking his head. “Because I’m taking you out, Danno. On a real date.”

Danny’s mouth fell open slightly, his brain clearly short-circuiting. “…You’re serious.”

Steve stepped closer, hands finding Danny’s waist, thumbs brushing lightly over his hips. “Dead serious.”

Danny blinked a few more times, still looking completely bewildered. “What, like… an actual date? With dinner? And drinks? And—”

“And me being ridiculously charming?” Steve smirked. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

Danny let out a breath, shaking his head, half-laughing, half-stunned. “You’re unbelievable.”

Steve grinned. “And you love it.”

Danny rolled his eyes, but his smile gave him away.

And ten minutes later?

They were out the door.

-

They went to a small, quiet restaurant by the beach, the kind of place that Danny would’ve picked himself, the kind of place that let them talk, laugh, just be.

And it was easy.

They ate. They argued over the best way to grill a steak. They laughed too much, drank just enough.

And Steve? Steve was obnoxiously charming. Leaning in just enough. Smirking at just the right moments. Letting his fingers trail absently over Danny’s wrist across the table.

And Danny? Danny glowed.

Because this? This was real.

And when they left the restaurant, when they wandered down toward the beach, the night warm and quiet around them, Steve reached for his hand.

Danny didn’t hesitate.

They walked together, fingers intertwined, the waves crashing softly in the background.

And then, because he couldn’t help himself, because he had never wanted anything more—

Steve stopped.

Danny turned, brows raising slightly. “What?”

Steve didn’t answer. Didn’t overthink. Didn’t wait.

He just leaned in, pressing his lips to Danny’s, slow and deep, his fingers curling into the fabric of Danny’s shirt.

Danny melted into him instantly, hands sliding up to grip the back of Steve’s neck, pulling him in closer, like he had been waiting for this.

And maybe he had.

When they finally pulled back, Danny exhaled, eyes still closed for a moment.

Then he smirked. “Well, damn. That was a level five kiss if I’ve ever had one.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

Then, quieter now, softer... “I love you.”

Danny’s breath hitched.

And when he opened his eyes, they were steady, bright, unshaken.

He smiled, gripping Steve’s shirt tighter. “Yeah, babe. I know. Love you too.”

Steve kissed him again.

Because this time, there was no reason to wait.

-

Chapter 37: 37

-

The weeks passed in a blur, a quiet rhythm of laughter, late nights, soft touches, and rediscovery.

Steve was at every one of Charlie’s basketball games, cheering too loudly, throwing his arms up when Charlie sank a perfect shot, clapping him on the back after a good play.

Danny, from the sidelines, would shoot him a look, one of those long-suffering, exaggerated eye rolls, but Steve knew better.

Because beneath the eyeroll, Danny was smiling.

Because this? This was everything Danny had wanted for his kid.

Steve being here. Being steady. Being real.

And Danny?

Danny was learning to lean.

Leaning into Steve’s touch—a hand resting at the small of his back, a thumb swiping across his knuckles, a fingertip tracing absent patterns on his wrist.
Leaning into the small moments of intimacy—the brush of lips against his temple, the soft kisses in the kitchen, the way they naturally reached for each other in sleep.

It was effortless now. No hesitation. No second-guessing.

Just them.

Each night, curled up on the couch, the TV playing something neither of them were watching, Steve’s fingers would brush slow, lazy circles against Danny’s arm.

Danny would hum, half-asleep but content, the weight of Steve against him warm and familiar.

Steve’s voice, low, rough with sleep, whispering sweet nothings, quiet affections, words just for Danny.

And Danny would exhale, soft and steady, tilting his head slightly, meeting Steve in the middle in a kiss… Soft. Slow. Real.

Because they weren’t just learning anymore.

They were living it.

-

Six weeks.

Steve felt more like himself than he had in a long time.

His injury had nearly healed, the scar a fading reminder of everything that had led him here. The doctor had been pleased with his progress, finally clearing him for light activity, with the usual warning to take it easy for a few more months.

But that wasn’t what mattered.

What mattered was that, for the first time in three years, Steve could go back to the ocean.

Hawaii’s sea had always been a part of him, had always been his escape, his home, his clarity.

And the moment he stepped into the water, the moment the waves rushed up to greet him, wrapping around him like something familiar, something constant, it was like he could finally breathe again.

The cool water washed over him, grounding him, steadying him. His body moved instinctively, muscles stretching, the rhythm of the sea pulling him back into himself.

And yet, even with the calm, his mind wasn’t quiet.

Because Lou’s words were still there, lingering like an echo he couldn’t shake. "We came from so far that you can’t lose any more time, right?"

And Steve knew.

He had wasted enough time.
He knew what he wanted.
He wanted Danny.
He wanted this life.
He wanted forever.

And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he loved Danny more than anything.
Always had. Always would.

But something was still wrong.
Something still wasn’t right.
Grace.

Steve exhaled, floating on the surface, staring up at the clear sky, the sun warming his skin even as the cold realization settled deep in his chest.

He couldn’t keep ignoring this.

He couldn’t pretend that things were fine when they weren’t.

Because right now?
It wasn’t fine. It wasn’t okay.

Grace barely called Danny anymore. She was angry, hurt, distant.

And Danny? Danny was hurting, too.

Steve saw it.
Saw the way Danny’s face tensed every time he checked his phone, only to find no messages from her.
Saw the way his voice softened when he talked about her, like he was trying to remind himself that she still loved him, that she just needed time.
Saw the way he covered for her, making excuses for the missed calls, for the short, clipped conversations.

Grace had always been his world.

And now? Now, she was pulling away.
Because of him. Because Danny let him back in.
Because, after everything, after the leaving, after the silence, after the pain—Danny had forgiven him.

But Grace? She wasn’t there yet.

Maybe she didn’t understand why.
Maybe she didn’t want to.

And Steve? Steve couldn’t let this go on.

Because Danny had already lost three years with him.

He wasn’t about to let him lose his daughter, too.

Not because of him. Never because of him.

He needed to make this right. He needed to fix this.

-

Spring break was approaching, and with it, Grace’s return to Hawaii. She was coming back to spend time with her family, to reconnect with the people who had always been a part of her life.

For Steve, her arrival meant one thing above all else—he had to make things right before she set foot on the island.

Grace had never been just another person in his life. She had been his first "Uncle Steve," the little girl with pigtails who had sprinted full speed into his arms without hesitation. She was the one who had sat on his shoulders, tugging at his hair, giggling as he waded them both into the ocean. He had been there when she learned to swim, his hands steady beneath her as she kicked against the current. He had taught her to surf, holding the board firm as she found her balance, encouraging her to trust the waves beneath her feet.

They had built the biggest, most elaborate sandcastles on the beach, stayed up late whispering through sleepovers when Danny was on cases, and shared inside jokes that had made her roll her eyes in exaggerated exasperation—just like her father. She had forced him into ridiculous tea party hats, had fallen asleep curled into his lap, and had looked up at him with that bright, unshakable trust that had once meant the world to him.

Steve had loved her as if she were his own, just like he did with Charlie. That had never changed. It never would.

But he had let her down.

In leaving, he had hurt Danny—badly. But Danny, with all his heart, all his love, all his relentless loyalty, had found it in himself to forgive him. Grace, however, was not there yet.

And Steve knew that forcing the issue, demanding an explanation or hoping for an immediate resolution, would be the biggest mistake he could make. She was angry at him, and she had every right to be.

She wasn’t just upset because of what he had done to Danny. She was hurt because she had lost him, too. Because after being a constant in her life for years, after being the one who had always shown up for her, he had walked away without a word.

If their roles had been reversed, if he had been in her place watching someone he loved disappear without looking back, he would have been furious, too.

Maybe she didn’t understand how Danny could forgive him.
Maybe she didn’t even want to try.

But if there was one thing Steve knew for certain, it was that Danny had already lost too much. Danny had lost three years with him, and now, Steve was watching him try to hold onto Grace as she pulled further and further away.

That was unacceptable.

Steve wasn’t just here for Danny. He wasn’t just here for himself. He was here because Grace was family, too. Because he couldn’t bear to be the reason that Danny lost his daughter.

Danny was trying to hide how much it hurt. He covered it up with tight smiles and quiet deflections, acting as if her silence didn’t cut him deep. But Steve saw the way Danny’s jaw clenched whenever he checked his phone, only to find no messages from her. He saw the way his voice softened every time he spoke about her, like he was trying to remind himself that she still loved him, that she just needed time.

But Steve knew better than anyone that time didn’t heal wounds on its own.

Time only made the silence deepen, only let anger and hurt fester.

And Steve?

He had to fix this.

Not just for himself. Not just for Danny.

But for Grace.

Because she deserved better than a man who disappeared.

And because without her? No matter how much he and Danny rebuilt, no matter how much love was between them, it would never feel complete.

Steve McGarrett had already lost too much.

He wouldn’t lose his family again.

-

Grace arrived exactly as he expected—guarded, sharp, and absolutely impossible to impress.

At twenty-one, she had inherited Danny’s fire, his brutal honesty, and his fierce protectiveness, but she had refined it into something even deadlier. She didn’t just wear her emotions for everyone to see like her father did—she wielded them like weapons.

And right now?

She was ready for war.
She had agreed to meet him, but barely.

Danny hadn’t forced her. He hadn’t tried to convince her or pressure her into anything. He had simply given her the option, told her where Steve would be, and left the choice up to her.

And she had shown up.
But she wasn’t happy about it.

She stepped onto the lanai with purpose, her stride confident, her expression unreadable. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter, didn’t give him even a moment of relief. There was no flicker of warmth, no hesitation, no silent acknowledgment that she had once loved him.

She simply walked forward, eyes cold and cutting, and sank into the chair across from him, arms folded, her body language a silent declaration of hostility and control. "Alright, McGarrett," she said, her voice level, detached, entirely impersonal. "Talk."

Not Uncle Steve.
Not even Steve.
Just McGarrett.

And that?
That hit harder than any bullet ever had.

Steve exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw, knowing there was no room for deflection, no space for easy apologies. "Guess I deserve that," he admitted, voice steady.

Grace raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You deserve a hell of a lot more than that, but I don’t have all day, so get to the point."

God.

Steve had faced mercenaries, assassins, cartels, entire terrorist organizations, but nothing had ever been as brutal as the way Grace Williams looked at him now.

Because this wasn’t just a confrontation.

This was her letting him know exactly how much damage he had done.

"I messed up," he said finally, voice firm.

She didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. "No shit."

Steve swallowed. "I left. And I shouldn’t have."

"Damn right, you shouldn’t have."

He nodded, accepting it, taking every word she threw at him like it was his penance to bear. "And I hurt your dad. And I hurt you. And I will never, ever forgive myself for that."

Grace let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Good. Because I’m sure as hell not forgiving you either."

Steve had expected that. Hell, he respected that. "I don’t expect you to, sweetheart," he said honestly. "But I need you to know—I love you. I always have. That never changed."

Something in her twitched, just for a fraction of a second, something that might have been pain, or regret, or even longing. But she shut it down just as quickly as it had appeared. "You love me?" she repeated, voice razor-sharp. "Funny, because when you love someone, you don’t disappear for three years without a damn word."

Steve closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply before meeting her gaze again. "I know." His voice didn’t waver. "I can’t undo it, Grace. I can’t change it. But I can do better. I will do better."

She studied him, cold and calculating, her walls built too high for him to breach in one day.

Then, after a long silence, she pushed back from the table and stood. “You don’t get to just walk back in and fix this, Steve.”

And just like that—she was gone.

But she had come. She had heard him.

And whether she was ready to admit it or not—somewhere, deep down, she had needed to.

 

Steve didn’t stop her.

 

He didn’t try to call her back, didn’t beg for another second of her time. He didn’t chase after forgiveness he hadn’t earned, because he knew better. This wasn’t something that could be fixed in a day. One conversation wasn’t going to erase three years of absence, of disappointment, of her watching her father suffer in silence because of him.

Grace was still furious, and she had every right to be. She was still hurt, and he wasn’t going to stand there and ask her to let it go just because he had finally decided to show up.

But at least she had come.

At least she had sat across from him and told him exactly what she thought, even if it had been brutal.

At least she had heard him.

Even if she wasn’t ready to let him back in.

-

Later that evening, Steve sat on Danny’s lanai, staring out at the ocean, shoulders tense. He hadn’t said much since Danny had come home, and Danny hadn’t tried to fill the silence with empty reassurances. Steve just sat there, hands clasped together, thinking

Danny found him like that, stepping out onto the lanai with two beers in hand. He handed one over before sinking into the chair beside him with a sigh. "That bad, huh?"

Steve let out a tired breath, rolling the bottle between his hands. "She hates me, Danny."

Danny huffed, taking a sip of his beer. "She doesn’t hate you."

Steve turned his head, giving him a dry look. "She literally said she’s not forgiving me."

Danny smirked, unbothered. "Yeah, well, that’s just step one. You think I raised a pushover?"

Steve huffed out something that might have been a laugh, shaking his head. "No. Definitely not."

Danny nudged him lightly with his shoulder, his voice softer now. "Look, babe, she’s stubborn. Like, world-class, championship-level stubborn. But she’s also my kid. And if there’s one thing I know?" He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice as if he were about to share some classified information. "She’s got a soft spot for grand gestures."

Steve frowned, raising an eyebrow. "What the hell am I supposed to do? Buy her a pony?"

Danny smacked his arm. "No, dumbass. But… I might have an idea."

Steve tilted his head, watching as Danny pushed himself up from his chair and disappeared inside. When he returned, he wasn’t empty-handed.

He was holding the box.

Steve stilled.

The postcards.

Every single one of them.

Danny set the box down in front of him, his expression unreadable, watching him carefully. "You ever think maybe she needs proof, too?"

Steve swallowed, his fingers brushing over the worn edges of the lid. He had written every single one of those postcards, but he had never sent them. Maybe he had convinced himself they wouldn’t matter, that they wouldn’t make a difference. But now, staring at them, he realized how wrong he had been.

Because if he had been given proof, if he had been able to hold onto something when he thought he had lost everything—it would have meant everything.

Maybe, it would mean something to her, too.

Steve exhaled slowly, nodding once. "Yeah..Okay."

-

Chapter 38: 38

-

The next morning, Steve sat at the kitchen table, the box in front of him, his fingers drumming against the edge.

Danny stood at the counter, pouring coffee, watching him without saying a word. The house was quiet, the early morning sun creeping through the windows, casting long shadows over the floor.

Finally, Steve pushed back from the table, standing up with a sigh. "Alright. Let’s do this."

Danny raised an eyebrow, sipping his coffee. "You got a plan?"

Steve ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "Yeah. I’m gonna show her."

Danny smirked. "Revolutionary, babe. Real innovative thinking."

Steve shot him a look. "You got a better idea?"

Danny just shrugged, far too amused. "Nope. Just enjoying watching you squirm a little."

Steve rolled his eyes but grabbed the box anyway, steadying himself.

Because this? This was the real challenge.

He could face down enemies, survive life-threatening injuries, deal with Danny’s terrible driving—but trying to fix things with Grace?

That was the real battle.

-

Grace sat outside on Rachel’s lanai, stretched out in a chair with a book in hand, her sunglasses perched atop her head. The warm Hawaiian breeze rustled through the palm trees, casting shifting shadows across the wooden deck. She looked completely at ease, entirely unbothered, as if she hadn’t spent the previous night thinking about their conversation at all.

Steve wasn’t sure if that was true, but he knew one thing for certain—she hadn’t been waiting for him.

But he was here anyway.

He stepped onto the lanai, the sound of his boots soft against the wooden boards. Grace barely spared him a glance, not even the slightest flicker of surprise at seeing him again so soon. Instead, she turned a page in her book, her expression cool and indifferent.

"You’re back already?" she asked flatly, still not looking up. "What, you think one conversation was enough?"

Steve didn’t bite. He didn’t rise to the bait, didn’t let himself get pulled into another battle where she had all the firepower.

Instead, he stepped forward and set the box on the table beside her.

Grace frowned at it, her book forgotten for the moment. Her fingers curled slightly against the chair’s armrest as she studied the worn edges of the lid, suspicion flickering in her sharp eyes. "What is that?" she asked, her voice cautious.

Steve exhaled slowly, his tone calm and steady. "Something I should have given you, your dad, and Charlie a long time ago."

She didn’t move. Didn’t open it. She just stared at him, waiting, expecting him to either keep talking or to leave.

But Steve didn’t leave. He nodded toward the box, tilting his head slightly. "Go ahead."

Grace hesitated. Then, reluctantly, she reached out, flipping open the lid. And froze.

Her posture stiffened almost imperceptibly, her face unreadable. But Steve saw the flicker of emotion, saw the moment she recognized what she was looking at before she managed to school her expression back into something neutral.

Inside, stacked neatly, were hundreds of postcards.

Different places. Different dates. Different words, all scrawled in the same familiar, slightly messy handwriting.

Her fingers hovered over the top one before she carefully picked it up. She flipped it over, her gaze catching on the date in the top right corner.

Two years ago.

Her throat tightened.

She scanned the words, her brows furrowing slightly as she read.

~~~ Postcard from New York City~~~
Grace,
The city is buzzing, lights everywhere, people rushing—but I stopped when I saw a street musician playing under a café sign. It made me think of you. You bring light, just like that—effortlessly.
Your dad’s right—you’re one of a kind. I should be there. I know that. But I hope you know I never stopped thinking about you.
Love you, Uncle Steve

Her fingers twitched as she set it down and reached for another.

~~~ Postcard from Kyoto, Japan ~~~
Grace,
The cherry blossoms are in bloom here. You’d love it. The way the pink petals fall, blanketing the ground like snow—it’s beautiful. It made me think of you and how you always bring color and light wherever you go.
I can picture you walking here, taking pictures, asking questions about the culture, soaking it all in. Your dad’s right—you’re something special. I hope you know that, Grace. I’m sorry I haven’t been around to tell you that in person. One day, I hope I can.
Kimi ga koishii – I miss you. Steve

Then another.

Then another.

Her grip tightened, her breath coming in slow, measured exhales as she scanned the messages.

There were postcards for Charlie. For her father.

The realization hit her like a weight in her chest. He had been carrying all of this for years.

She swallowed hard, blinking too fast, as if trying to will away the sudden sting behind her eyes.

Steve didn’t say anything. He just watched, waiting.

Finally, she looked up.

Her voice was quiet, but sharp. "Why didn’t you send them?"

Steve swallowed hard, his jaw tightening before he answered. "Because I was a coward."

She let out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah, no kidding."

He nodded, accepting the hit. He wasn’t here to argue, wasn’t here to defend himself. "I didn’t know how to come back, Grace," he admitted, his voice rough. "And the longer I stayed away, the worse it got. I told myself that you, your dad, Charlie—you were all better off without me."

Her eyes flashed. "That’s not your call to make."

Steve nodded, unwavering. "I know. And I was wrong."

Grace clenched her jaw, looking down at the postcards again. Slowly, she flipped through them, her fingers brushing lightly over the edges, absorbing the words written on them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity "You should have sent them."

Steve nodded. "I know."

She pushed the box toward him, like she was ready to be done with this conversation. But Steve shook his head. "Keep them." His voice was softer now. "Take your time… read them if you feel like it." He hesitated, then met her gaze. "They were always meant for you."

She studied him for a long moment, her expression shifting, the war still raging inside of her.

After a beat, she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, but her voice had lost some of its razor-sharp edge. "You’re still on probation."

Steve let out a small breath, something easing in his chest for the first time in weeks. He smirked, a bit of that easy charm breaking through. "I figured."

He exhaled, glancing toward the street, giving her space. "I’ll let you be now." He hesitated for just a moment before adding, "Come by when you want. You’d make your dad happy."

Then, with a small nod, he turned on his heels and walked away, leaving her alone with the box.

-

As she watched Steve walk away, Grace bit her lip, a habit she had unconsciously inherited from her father. Her teeth pressed into the soft skin, grounding her, keeping her from saying something—anything—that might crack the mask of indifference she was so desperately holding onto.

She let out a slow breath, the weight of the moment settling over her shoulders like a heavy blanket. Her gaze flickered back to the box on the table, the worn edges, the faded ink on some of the postcards peeking through the top.

For a long moment, she simply stared at it, as if the contents inside were something volatile, something that could shift everything if she let it.

And maybe they could.

Her fingers hesitated at the lid, hovering just above it before she finally, carefully, flipped it open.

She trailed her fingers over the edges, touching them lightly, as though they were something fragile, something breakable.

So many.

Hundreds of places.
Hundreds of dates.
Hundreds of messages.

She hadn’t known.

She had spent three years being angry, three years thinking Steve had wiped them from his life the way he had walked out of it. Three years convincing herself that if she wasn’t important enough for him to stay, then he certainly hadn’t wasted time thinking about her, about them, after he left.

But here it was. Proof.

Postcards addressed to her, to Charlie, to her dad—each one filled with words he had never sent, thoughts he had never shared.

A lot of them were for her father. That didn’t surprise her. Not even a little.

They had always been meant for each other, even when they had been too damn stubborn to see it for themselves. Even when she had been ten years old, watching them bicker like an old married couple, watching the way they gravitated toward each other without even realizing it.

She had grown up believing—no, knowing—that one day, they would just figure it out.

That they’d get married. That they’d be a real family. That her school friends wouldn’t just assume that Uncle Steve was more than just her dad’s partner. That it wouldn’t just be a story whispered behind their backs, or something people teased her about with knowing smiles. That it would be real. She would have loved that.

But they never did.

Instead, Steve left.

And nothing had been the same since. Even when she was away at school, she had felt it—the absence, the loss, the shift in their world.

Her father had changed. Her brother, too. And her?

She had taken it upon herself to hold them together, to be strong for them, even when it hurt. She had felt their suffering, their pain, their grief. And she had endured it in silence, carrying the weight of it like a second skin.

Because Steve wasn’t just missing.

He had abandoned them.

And she had never forgiven him for it.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she kept flipping through the postcards, letting the words seep in, letting the emotions she had spent so long burying push their way to the surface.

~~~ Postcard from Alaska, USA ~~~
Grace and Charlie,
This one’s for both of you. I’m in Alaska now, and it’s cold as hell here. But the snow, the mountains, the wildlife—it’s beautiful. Grace, there are views here that would take your breath away. And Charlie, you’d be the first to try skiing down one of these mountains, wouldn’t you? I can picture it so clearly.
I think about you both all the time. I wonder what you’d think of the places I’ve been, what we could’ve done together.
I hope you’re both happy, healthy, and thriving. I hope you know how much I care about you, even from far away.
I miss you -Steve

Her breath hitched slightly, but she forced herself to keep going.

~~~ Postcard from Rome, Italy ~~~
Grace,
The streets here are like a living museum—cobblestone paths, towering ruins, history in every corner. I walked through the Colosseum today and thought about how you’d be asking a million questions, reading every plaque, probably explaining things to your dad before he even had a chance to Google them.
You’d love the gelato, too—best I’ve ever had.
I wish you were here to see it all for yourself. You’d fit right in with the wonder of this place.
Ti penso sempre – I think of you always -Steve

She pressed her lips together, her throat tight, her vision blurring slightly as the words blurred together.

It was too much.

She had convinced herself that she had been right about him, that Steve had walked away and never looked back. That he had cut them out of his life as easily as flipping a switch.

But these words—they shattered that illusion.

He had thought of them.

Of her.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, a single tear slipping free down her cheek before she could stop it.

She wiped it away quickly, frustrated, angry at herself for feeling anything at all.

She wasn’t forgiving him. She couldn’t.

Not yet. Maybe not for a long time.

But tonight…

Tonight, she’d stop by her dad’s place.

And maybe…she’d stay for dinner.

-

The evening had started like any other.

Danny had been outside, fussing over the grill, muttering under his breath about proper steak temperatures and how no one on this island knew how to appreciate a good, properly cooked meal.

Charlie was nearby, bouncing a basketball against the driveway, occasionally calling out a random fact about one of his favorite players, to which Danny responded with distracted nods and half-hearted, "Yeah, yeah, buddy, that sounds great."

Then, the front door creaked open.

And everything else fell away.

"Hey, Dad."

The voice was familiar, expected even—Grace had arrived on the island the day before for spring break. But he hadn’t expected her here. Not at this house. Not with Steve inside.

Danny turned so fast he nearly knocked over the plate in his hand. His eyes landed on her, standing just inside the doorway, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, her expression carefully unreadable.
"Monkey," he breathed, blinking like he wasn’t sure if she was real.

She didn’t roll her eyes at the nickname like she usually did. She just stood there, steady, waiting.

Danny knew better than to assume this meant anything was suddenly fixed. He knew she was still angry—at Steve, at him, at how things had played out these last couple of months.

But she was here.
And that? That was everything.

"Uh…" Danny cleared his throat, shoving down the surge of emotion threatening to make him look like a sentimental fool. "You staying?"

She shifted slightly, adjusting her bag. "Yeah, Dad. I’m staying."

Danny grinned, unable to stop himself. The happiest man on Earth, right there.

Before she could say anything else, he closed the distance between them, pulling her into a hug that she let happen—a little stiff at first, then slowly melting into it, the way she always did when she realized just how much she had missed him too.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were a little too bright, but if she noticed, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she glanced toward the living room, where Steve was.

"Is he inside?" she asked, voice unreadable.

Danny sobered slightly but nodded. "Yeah. He’s inside."

Grace didn’t say anything else. She just walked in.

Steve had felt it before he saw her. The shift in the air, the way Danny’s energy had changed—like something had just clicked into place in a way neither of them had expected.

When he finally looked up, Grace was there.

In their home.
With him.

He went still, hands braced on the back of the couch, like moving too fast might break whatever fragile moment this was. "Hey," he said, voice quieter than he meant it to be.

Grace met his gaze, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her stance carefully neutral. Not cold, not aggressive—but not forgiving either. "Hey."

And somehow, somehow, that was enough.

Danny, ever the peacemaker, cleared his throat, cutting through the tension. "So, uh. We got steak, grilled veggies, and beer in the fridge, which—before you say anything, Grace, no, you can’t have."

Grace groaned, rolling her eyes. "Dad, I’m twenty-one."

"And I’m still your father," Danny shot back.

Charlie, who had just stepped into the room, grinned. "Yeah, Gracie. House rules."

Grace turned to her little brother with an unimpressed look. "Whose side are you on?"

Charlie smirked. "Whoever lets me stay up the latest."

Danny scoffed. "Smart kid."

And just like that, the tension eased. Not completely, not entirely, but enough.

Steve let out a slow breath, catching Danny’s eyes. The silent understanding between them was immediate—this was a start.

Maybe not forgiveness. But a step toward it.

-

For a moment, when Grace had first walked in, dinner had felt like it might be tense, like the unspoken weight of the past few years would settle too heavily over them.

But then Charlie—bless him and his inability to sit in silence for more than ten seconds—started talking.

And just like that, the night came alive.

"Okay, so," Charlie said around a mouthful of rice, barely pausing to swallow. "We were down by two, only twenty seconds left on the clock—"

Danny groaned, already rubbing his temple. "Charlie, please tell me this story doesn’t end with me having to have another long talk with your coach about your 'intensity' on the court."

Charlie grinned. "I mean. Technically—"

"Charlie."

"Okay, okay! No ejections this time. But." He turned dramatically to Steve, who was already smirking. "You’re gonna love this. I faked left, cut through two defenders, got a perfect pass, buzzer-beater shot—nothing but net. Crowd went wild."

Steve grinned, nodding. "Nice, kid. That’s clutch."

Charlie beamed, looking smug. "Exactly! Clutch. See, Dad? That’s what I was trying to tell you!"

Danny rolled his eyes, waving his fork. "I swear to God, if I have to hear the phrase 'clutch' one more time—"

"It’s an actual term, Dad," Charlie said, exasperated.

Grace, smirking into her drink, threw in dryly, "Yes, Charlie, we know. You’ve only said it like fifteen times this week."

Charlie turned dramatically to Steve. "See how they gang up on me?"

Steve chuckled. "I mean, kid, you do talk about basketball a lot."

Charlie gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "Et tu, Brute?"

Danny let out an exaggerated groan. "Charlie, what the hell is my twelve-year-old doing quoting Shakespeare at dinner?"

Charlie grinned. "I’m well-rounded."

"You're something, alright," Danny muttered, shaking his head.

Grace snorted, spearing a piece of chicken. "He’s been recycling the same dramatic phrases for months. Last week, it was 'woe is me', and I swear to God, if he says ‘alas’ one more time, I’m going to throw him off the lanai."

Steve was laughing now, shaking his head as he cut into his steak. "Dramatic streak, huh?"

Charlie pointed a fork at him. "Like you wouldn’t believe. You should hear her monologues when she’s mad. Oscar-worthy."

Grace shot him a look. "Do you want to live, Charlie ?"

Danny sighed, dropping his fork. "I swear, if you two start wrestling at the dinner table, I’m sending you both back to your mother’s."

Charlie scoffed. "Please. You’d miss me too much."

Danny smirked. "That a fact?"

"Yeah. And besides, you’d never survive alone with just Steve."

That got everyone’s attention.

Danny narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"

Charlie grinned. "I mean, c’mon, who’s gonna keep you from losing your mind every five minutes? Uncle Steve’s already seen how you get when you’re left unsupervised. He’d be carrying you out in a straitjacket by the end of the week."

Steve, still chewing his food calmly, nodded in agreement. "He’s not wrong."

Danny turned to Steve, betrayed. "Seriously?"

Steve shrugged, completely unbothered. "I mean, I’ve seen you try to fill out a basic online form, Danny. It’s concerning."

Grace let out an actual laugh, her eyes flicking toward Steve, that smallest, softest hint of amusement lingering just for a second.

And just like that, something settled between them all.

It wasn’t perfect.

There were still things unsaid, still weight between them that hadn’t lifted.

But there was laughter.
And sarcasm.
And Charlie’s endless energy.

And somewhere, beneath the noise, beneath the teasing, the rolling eyes, and the exaggerated sighs, Steve’s hand found Danny’s under the table.
Fingers curling together—warm, steady, certain.

Danny felt it too.
Felt the weight of this moment, of what it meant to have all of them here again, eating, laughing, bickering like they always had.
Family.

And damn, it felt good.

So good that for a moment, it almost didn’t feel real.

Like any second now, the illusion would shatter, and Steve would be gone again, and Grace would be distant again, and Danny would be left trying to hold together something that was already broken.

But then—Steve’s grip tightened. A gentle, grounding squeeze. I’m here. I’m not leaving.

Danny exhaled slowly, let himself believe it.

Didn’t even blink. Didn’t let go.

Instead, without looking, without second-guessing, he squeezed back.

Because after everything—after the leaving, after the hurt, after all the years of wondering if they’d ever have this again... It felt right.

-

The house was quiet now, the warmth of the evening settling over the lanai like a soft blanket. The ocean stretched dark and endless before them, moonlight dancing on the waves, the breeze carrying the distant hum of the city.

Grace stood at the railing, arms folded, her gaze fixed on the water.

Steve hesitated in the doorway, watching her, unsure if stepping outside was pushing too far, if this tentative balance between them could tip too easily.

Her voice cut through the night, dry but not unkind. "You gonna stand there all night, McGarrett, or you gonna sit?"

Steve huffed out a quiet chuckle, stepping forward and sinking into the chair beside her.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

And for the first time in months, the silence didn’t feel heavy.

Didn’t feel like a punishment.

It felt like progress.

Like something unspoken but understood, a quiet acknowledgment that maybe—just maybe—they could meet somewhere in the middle.

Steve wasn’t naïve enough to think this meant everything was fixed.

But for the first time in a long time, he let himself hope.

Hope that one day, she might look at him without resentment.
Hope that she’d trust him again.
Hope that she’d believe in the man he was trying to be, not the one who had left.

And until then—he would keep showing up.

Because she was worth it.
Because they all were.

-

Much later, after the house had settled into the deep quiet of the night, after Charlie’s soft snores drifted from his room and the ocean breeze whispered through the open windows, Danny and Steve found themselves curled up together on the couch.

The remnants of the night still lingered—the warmth of shared meals, the easy laughter, the unspoken understanding between them all. It wasn’t perfect, not yet, but it was theirs.

Danny was half-asleep, his head heavy against Steve’s shoulder, his body loose with exhaustion, with contentment. His fingers moved lazily, tracing slow, absent patterns against Steve’s wrist, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

Steve tilted his head slightly, pressing his lips against the side of Danny’s head, breathing him in, letting the moment settle deep in his bones.
"You happy?" he murmured, his voice low, intimate.

Danny hummed in response, barely opening his eyes. His grip on Steve’s wrist tightened slightly, grounding. Here. Present. Real.
"Happiest I’ve been in a long time," he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

Steve smiled, warmth spreading through his chest, pressing a lingering kiss to Danny’s temple, letting himself feel it.

The certainty.
The belonging.
The quiet, undeniable truth that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

His arms tightened around Danny, holding him closer, sinking into the warmth of this life—their life.

-

Chapter 39: 39

-

Steve hadn’t been expecting anything special when he walked through the door that night. His mind was still half-occupied with the real estate meeting, the offer on his parents’ house, the final steps of untangling himself from a past that had weighed on him for far too long.

Selling the house had never been about money. It was about letting go. About moving forward instead of lingering in a place filled with ghosts. And now, with a solid offer on the table, he felt lighter—like maybe, finally, he was ready for whatever came next.

And when he stepped inside, whatever had been left of that lingering weight disappeared entirely.

The house was bathed in soft, golden candlelight, flickering against the walls, casting everything in a warm glow. The dining table had been set with care—real plates, silverware, wine already poured into glasses. The rich aroma of something delicious filled the air, and in the background, music played, low and steady.

Steve blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What’s this?”

Danny leaned in the kitchen doorway, looking devastatingly good—sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, eyes bright with something teasing, something intentional.
“This, babe,” he said, crossing his arms with a smirk, “is called a date.”

Steve arched a brow. “A date?”

Danny nodded, stepping closer, slow and deliberate. When he stopped in front of Steve, his hands settled lightly on his hips, thumbs brushing small, idle circles over his shirt.
“Yeah. You ever heard of one? It’s where two people who love each other—”

Steve felt the words sink in, felt them wrap around his heart like something that had always been there.

It wasn’t surprising. Not even a little.
They had been saying it for weeks now. Casually. Naturally. Like breathing.

But there was something about this moment—about Danny standing here, having planned this, having thought this through, wanting to show Steve, with every flickering candle and every carefully made plate of food, exactly what he meant to him—

That made something in Steve’s chest ache in the best way.

Danny smirked at the look on his face, fingers tightening slightly. “You good there, babe?”

Steve exhaled, shaking his head with a small laugh. He cupped Danny’s jaw, tilting his head up slightly, and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss against his lips.

Danny melted into it for a second before pulling back, breathless but still grinning. “Don’t make me reheat everything, Steven.”

Steve chuckled, the warmth in his chest only growing. “I know better than that.”

-

They ate together, conversation flowing as easily as the wine in their glasses.

Danny ranted about a client who swore up and down that their missing cat had been stolen for ransom, only for it to turn up, lazy and completely unbothered, asleep in the damn closet.

Steve laughed, shaking his head, before telling Danny about the real estate agent's offer. How it wasn’t about the money. How he just wanted to be done with it. To move forward.

Danny listened, really listened, nodding as he sipped his wine. “Sounds like a damn good plan, babe. No more ghosts, yeah?”

Steve hummed, watching him. “No more ghosts.”

And at some point—between bites of steak, between laughter and the soft, familiar pull of them toward each other—Steve felt it.

Felt home.

Somewhere between finishing their meal and Steve draining the last sip of wine, Danny reached across the table, fingers curling lightly around Steve’s wrist.
“Time for dessert?” Danny murmured, voice low and teasing.

Steve’s smirk was slow, full of meaning. “Absolutely.”

Danny stood, tugging Steve up with him, their bodies brushing together as he led them away from the table.

But instead of heading toward the kitchen, Danny moved toward the bedroom.

Steve arched a brow. “I don’t see dessert in here, babe.”

Danny pushed him lightly against the doorframe, lips hovering close, just shy of touching. “I’m dessert, McGarrett.”

Steve’s pulse spiked. “Well,” he murmured, hands sliding down Danny’s back, settling just above the curve of his ass, “you should’ve said that earlier.”

Danny chuckled, the sound turning into a quiet gasp when Steve pressed forward, trapping him against the doorframe, their bodies flush together.

And just like that, the teasing burned away, replaced by something deeper, something heavier.

Steve kissed him, open-mouthed and hungry, swallowing the quiet moan Danny let out as their bodies moved in perfect rhythm. Danny’s fingers found their way into Steve’s hair, gripping, tugging just enough to pull a groan from deep in Steve’s throat.

Fuck, he loved this man.
Loved the way Danny kissed him back without hesitation. Loved the way his hands were already working Steve’s shirt open, fingers sliding against warm skin.

Steve let him, let Danny push the fabric off his shoulders, let his mouth trail down his jaw, across his throat.

“Been waiting for this, babe,” Danny murmured against his skin, pressing a kiss just beneath his jawline. “Finally able to touch you without worrying about breaking you.”
Steve let out a rough breath, tilting his head back. “Then don’t hold back.”

Danny’s grin was wicked, and then he was pushing, guiding them toward the bed.

They undressed each other slowly, taking their time, letting hands roam over bare, heated skin. Every touch, every kiss, every breathless laugh was electric, was alive.

Steve let himself sink into it, let himself be seen, taken apart, worshipped. And Danny—Danny was everywhere.
Mouths, hands, hips meeting hips, slow at first, then more, deeper, desperate.

Danny moved like he had all the time in the world, like he wasn’t just touching Steve but memorizing him—every scar, every line of muscle, every sharp inhale when his lips brushed too close to somewhere sensitive.

Steve let him, let himself be undone, let himself be taken apart in a way he had never allowed before.

Danny’s hands dragged slow, purposeful paths down Steve’s body, his breath hot against his throat, his voice a quiet rasp against his skin.
“You feel good, babe,” Danny murmured, his lips teasing at the hollow of Steve’s collarbone. “Been waiting for this—waiting to have you like this, finally.”

Steve groaned, arching into him, fingers gripping Danny’s hips, pulling him closer, harder, needing more.

Danny chuckled, the sound low and knowing. He knew exactly what he was doing to Steve.
“Patience, babe,” he whispered against his skin, pressing a slow, maddeningly deliberate kiss over his chest, down, down, down.

Steve huffed out a breath, half a laugh, half a groan. “God, Danny—”

Danny smirked against his stomach, teeth scraping lightly at his hip.
“Just Danny’s fine, babe,” he teased. “But keep talking, I like it when you start begging.”

Steve’s laugh broke into a sharp gasp when Danny’s hands moved lower, more deliberate, a slow burn that built and built and built until Steve was all fire and Danny was everywhere.
It was heat and devotion, hands and lips moving in sync, bodies meeting like they had been made for this, for each other.

And when Danny finally, finally gave in, when he let himself be pulled under with Steve, it was slow, deep, grounding, like something that had been waiting to happen for years.
Steve held on, fingers gripping at Danny’s back, pressing their foreheads together, breathing the same air as he whispered, “Love you.”

Danny exhaled softly, pressing his lips to Steve’s cheek, then his jaw, then his mouth, swallowing the words, answering without hesitation.
“Love you too, babe. Always.”

And when they finally stilled, when the world quieted, when all that remained was their tangled limbs and the rhythmic sound of their slowing breaths, Danny let his fingers trace mindless patterns against Steve’s skin, his voice a sleepy murmur in the dark. “Gotta do this more often, McGarrett.”

Steve huffed a tired laugh, pressing a lazy kiss to Danny’s temple.
“You got no complaints from me, babe.”

Danny smirked, eyes already drifting shut as he settled against Steve’s chest.

And for the first time in forever, they slept easy—wrapped around each other, safe, steady, home.

-

The next two weeks were a quiet, deliberate effort. Steve didn’t push. He didn’t force. He just showed up—in the only way that mattered.

Some mornings, they surfed. Lightly, because Steve was still supposed to take it easy. But Grace? She was doing really good. She caught waves with an ease that made Steve grin, watching her balance, watching the way she had grown into the ocean like she belonged to it.

"Not bad, kid," he admitted as she paddled back toward him after a particularly clean ride.
Grace smirked, flipping her wet hair over her shoulder. "Better than you right now, old man."

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "I’d argue, but you’re not wrong."

She didn’t respond, just studied him for a moment, something unreadable in her gaze. Then, she turned back toward the horizon.

And Steve let it sit. Let the moment be what it was.

-

One afternoon, the sun hung lazily in the sky, casting golden light over the island as Steve and Grace sat on the curb, each with a cup of shave ice in hand. The soft hum of life moved around them—tourists snapping pictures, locals chatting outside storefronts, the distant crash of waves against the shore.

Grace didn’t say much.
But she didn’t leave either.
And that, in itself, was something.

Steve stirred his shave ice absently with his spoon, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. He wasn’t about to waste this moment, but he also wasn’t going to push.
"So," he started casually, keeping his tone light, "how’s school?"

Grace shrugged, scooping a spoonful of strawberry shave ice into her mouth. "Fine."

Steve nodded. "Any classes you’re really into?"
"Some," she said vaguely, not offering more.

Steve hummed, taking the small opening she gave him. "You still thinking about law? Or are you leaning toward something else?"

Grace sighed, stabbing at her half-melted dessert. "I don’t know yet. Maybe law. Maybe something else."
Her tone wasn’t dismissive, just guarded. She wasn’t shutting him out completely, but she wasn’t letting him in easily either.

Steve didn’t push.

Instead, he let her have it—the space, the time, the control over the conversation.

He nodded, taking another bite of his shave ice, letting the silence settle between them, comfortable and steady.

At some point, she sighed again, stirring her spoon through the ice, eyes flicking toward him like she was watching him without really wanting to.
"You’re really trying, huh?" she muttered, voice unreadable.

Steve exhaled, resting his elbows on his knees. "Yeah."

She glanced at him then, really looked at him, searching his face like she was trying to figure out just how much she could trust what he was saying.

Then, after a beat, she nodded once, shifting her gaze back to the street.
"Good," she said simply.

And that was it.
She didn’t say more. She didn’t have to.

Because that—that was more than enough.

-

The last night before Grace was set to leave for university, they all sat together for dinner—one last meal as a family before she was gone again.

It had been… good.
Better than Steve had expected, even if the air still held traces of hesitation, of things unspoken.

Charlie had taken over most of the conversation, bouncing between stories from school, basketball updates, and animated debates over the best pizza place on the island. Danny had chimed in, arguing over toppings, because of course he did. Grace had even rolled her eyes at them both, smirking slightly. And Steve?

Steve had just let himself be there—part of it, part of them.

But later, when the plates had been cleared, when the night had stretched long and the ocean breeze had turned cool, Grace had stood abruptly from the table.
“I need air,” she muttered.

Steve had hesitated, glancing at Danny, who gave him a small, knowing nod.

This was it.

So, he followed her.

They walked in silence along the beach, the waves rolling in steady and endless, their footsteps leaving trails in the sand that the tide would soon erase.

Steve could feel it—the weight in the air, thick with unspoken words, with something brimming just beneath the surface.
And then… Grace stopped.
Turned.

And Steve barely had a second to brace before she snapped.
"Do you have any idea what you put us through?"

Steve swallowed hard, throat tight. "I do."

Her jaw clenched, her breath sharp. "No. No, I don’t think you do."

She stepped closer, her body vibrating with tension, voice cracking under the sheer force of everything she had kept inside.
"Because I spent three years watching Dad pretend he wasn’t breaking. Three years watching Charlie ask where you were, why you weren’t here. Three years carrying their pain and holding on for their sake, and I hated you for it."

Steve felt it like a punch to the gut.

But he let her speak.

"I cried for you, Steve," she went on, voice raw. "I cried for you when I shouldn’t have. When I didn’t want to. Because you left me too. You left all of us."
Tears streaked her face now, her breath uneven, her body trembling with the sheer weight of everything she had carried alone.

And Steve? He couldn’t stop his own from falling.
He took a slow, steady breath, stepping forward. Careful. Not pushing. Not forcing. Just… there. "I’m so sorry, sweetheart," he said, his voice breaking on the words. "I was wrong. I thought I was protecting all of you by staying away. I was a coward. And I will never, never forgive myself for what I put you through."

Grace let out a shuddering breath, shaking her head. "You can’t do it again, Steve. You can’t."

"Never." Steve promised, voice firm, unwavering. "I swear to you, Grace. Never again."

Her lips trembled, her hands still fisted at her sides, like she was holding herself together by sheer force of will.

And then… finally, finally… She stepped forward.
And collapsed into his arms.

Steve caught her, held on tight, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head as her body shook against him.
"I’m scared, Steve," she whispered, voice smaller now. Like the little girl with pigtails who had once run into his arms without hesitation. "I’m scared I’ll go back to college, and at some point, I’ll learn that you’re gone again…"

Steve closed his eyes, tightening his hold, anchoring her, anchoring himself.
"I promise you, Grace," he whispered fiercely, pressing his lips against her temple. "I promise you that I will never, ever do that again. I promise you, sweetheart. I love you, Grace. I love you as my own daughter, and you need to know that. That will never change. But never again will I put you through all of this. I wish I never had…"

Grace let out a shaky breath, her hands curling into the fabric of his shirt.
"I hate that I missed you," she admitted, voice muffled against his chest. "I hate that I still miss you."

Steve exhaled sharply, his throat burning. "I know, sweetheart. I know."
They stood there for a long time, wrapped in the sound of the waves, in the weight of all they had lost, and in the quiet, tentative steps toward getting it back.

And for the first time, she let herself believe him.

-

Chapter 40: 40

Notes:

I can't believe we've reached the final chapter of this story! Wow. I was going to say "already," but honestly, this has been the longest I’ve ever worked on a story—nearly two months of intense writing to bring it to life.

I truly hope I did it justice and that you’ll love the ending as much as I do. This journey wouldn’t have been the same without you—your support, feedback, and kindness have meant the world to me.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being part of this. ❤️

-

Months had passed, and summer was just around the corner. Grace would be coming home again soon, but this time, things felt different. Lighter. Better.

Steve had made sure of it.

He had kept in touch with her—not just casually, not just when she called Danny, but deliberately, with intention. They had built a rhythm, a routine that reassured her he was still here, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

And now? Now, he knew he was more than ready to take the final step.

With Danny.
With his family.
With the life they had built together.

But before he could do that, he needed to settle. Really settle.

His parents’ house was nearly sold. The final paperwork would be signed within the next couple of weeks, and when it was, he’d be free of that weight, that history. It wasn’t about letting go of his past—it was about making room for his future.

Steve had an idea for a new job. Something that wasn’t Five-0, something that wouldn’t pull him back into that world of endless danger and sacrifices. Something that would allow him to stay, to be present for the people who mattered most.

And, if he was being honest, it had already started.

He had spent so much time at Danny’s office these past months that, at some point, he had just started helping. At first, it was nothing—grabbing files, looking over notes while Danny was buried in paperwork. Then, it became more. Following up on leads. Helping track missing persons—kids, runaways, even the occasional missing pet. And damn if he didn’t find himself enjoying it.

It wasn’t the same rush as Five-0. It wasn’t about breaking down doors and chasing suspects through back alleys. But it was good work. It meant something. And Steve—Steve liked making a difference without holding a gun in his hand.

Danny hadn’t said much about it. Maybe he hadn’t even realized that Steve was working beside him now, that this had become part of their new routine. Maybe he just thought Steve was bored.
Or maybe, just maybe, Danny was waiting for Steve to say it out loud.

Because if this was what Steve wanted—and it was—then it meant something bigger.

It meant being partners again.
It meant completing the circle.

And damn it, if there was one thing Steve had learned over the past months, it was that he had to try.

So that was the plan.

Talk to Danny. Lay it all out.

And if everything fell into place—if this life they were building truly became theirs—then Steve would have two final approvals to get.

A BAMF twenty-one-year-old and a twelve-year-old basketball prodigy.

Because if Grace and Charlie said yes? If they looked at him and believed in him the way Danny did? If they gave him their blessing?

Then all he needed…

Was a yes from one stubborn Jersey detective who had waited too damn long for this.

-

Steve had been circling around the conversation for days now, waiting for the right moment to bring it up. But really, what was he waiting for? He’d already started working alongside Danny, unofficially, organically. It had just happened, as easy as breathing. And yet, saying it out loud—that felt big.

So, that evening, after they had eaten, after Charlie had finished telling them all about his basketball practice and gone to his room to play video games, Steve decided it was time.

Danny was sitting at the table, half-focused on some paperwork, a pen tapping absently against the wood. Steve cleared his throat, shifting in his seat.
“Hey, uh… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Danny didn’t even look up. “Oh, God. What now?”

Steve huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I swear, why do you always assume the worst?”

Danny finally glanced at him, giving him the look. “Because it’s you, Steven. Go on.”

Steve exhaled, rubbing his hands together. No backing out now. “I want in.”

Danny frowned. “In? In what?”

Steve gestured vaguely around them. “This. The agency. The work. I’ve been doing it anyway, might as well make it official.”

Danny stared at him. Then blinked. Then sat up straighter. “You want in?”

Steve nodded, meeting his gaze. “Yeah. As your partner.”

There was a pause.

And then, Danny scoffed. Then he laughed, shaking his head in utter disbelief.
“Oh, for the love of—you absolute moron! Of course you’re my partner!”

Steve blinked. “Wait, what?”

Danny threw his hands up. “Steven. Steven. Have you or have you not been working cases with me for months now? Have you or have you not been coming to my office, digging through files, helping me track down missing people? Huh?!”

“Well… yeah, but—”

Danny leaned in, jabbing a finger toward him. “And did you, at any point, hear me complain? Did you hear me tell you to stop? Did I say, ‘Hey, McGarrett, get the hell out of my office and leave me alone?’”

Steve shifted. “No, but—”

“Exactly. Because I knew, Steven. I knew from the first day you sat your nosy ass in that chair across from me that you weren’t going anywhere. And I let you, because deep down, I knew you needed this.”

Steve opened his mouth. Closed it.

Danny continued, because of course he did. “And now you sit here like an idiot, asking me if I want you as my partner. Of course I do! I was just waiting for you to figure it out yourself!”

Steve rubbed his jaw, processing. “So… you don’t mind?”

Danny threw a pained look at the ceiling, muttering something about patience and the Lord testing him. “No, Steven. I don’t mind. Jesus. You’re an idiot, but you’re my idiot.”

Steve’s lips twitched. “So, it’s a yes?”

Danny exhaled dramatically. “Yes, babe. It’s a yes. Welcome to the team.”

Steve grinned. “Good. Because I already started looking into a few cases.”

Danny groaned. “Oh, great. Here we go.”

And just like that—like everything in their damn lives—it just made sense.

-

Steve McGarrett had faced war zones, cartels, assassins, and explosions—but nothing was as terrifying as what he was about to do.

Because now? Now, he had a plan. A real, concrete plan to move forward with his life, to settle, to make this permanent in a way that went beyond just staying. He had Danny, he had their new partnership at the agency, he had let go of his parents’ house—he was free.

But there were still two people standing between him and the final step.

And Steve? He was about to face them both.

-

Phase One: Grace Williams—Final Boss, Level 11 Difficulty

Grace was back in Hawaii for summer break, lounging on the lanai, flipping through her phone when Steve approached with a rare sense of hesitation.

She glanced up, arching a perfect eyebrow. “McGarrett.”

Steve huffed a small laugh. “You ever gonna stop calling me that?”

Grace smirked. “Maybe. If you don’t screw this up.”

Steve exhaled slowly. “Right. No pressure.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, I need to talk to you about something important.”

She crossed her arms. “You proposing to Dad? Because I already know that’s coming.”

Steve choked. “What—? That’s—why would—?” He stopped, blinked, exhaled. Regroup.

Grace smirked, sipping her iced coffee. “Come on, Steve. You’ve been circling it for weeks.”

Steve stared at her, because holy shit, she really was Danny’s kid. He shook his head, rubbing a hand down his face. “Can we—can we stay on topic here?”

Grace grinned. “Fine. What’s up?”

Steve straightened. “I want to make this official. All of it. I’m not just staying—I’m building something here. And that means I need your approval.”

Grace tapped her nails against the cup. “For what?”

Steve hesitated. “To officially be a part of your family.”

The teasing in her face softened. Just a little. “Steve, you already are.”

Steve swallowed. “Yeah. But I need to hear you say it. Because if you’re not okay with this—if you still have reservations, if you think I don’t deserve this—then I won’t ask.”

She studied him carefully, expression unreadable. “You’re seriously asking for my permission?”

Steve nodded. Dead serious. “Yeah. I am.”

She let the silence stretch, and for a moment, he thought she might make him sweat. Then, with a knowing smirk, she shrugged.
“Alright. I’ll allow it.”

Steve exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders.

But then—her smirk sharpened. “On one condition.”

Steve stilled. Here it was. “What is it?”

Grace leaned forward, tapping her nails against the side of her cup. “Don’t mess it up.”

Steve blinked. “That’s it?”

She arched an eyebrow. “What, you were expecting something harder?”

Steve scoffed. “Honestly? Yeah.”

Grace shrugged, her expression still unreadable. “Look, McGarrett, you already did the hard part. You came back. You stayed. You proved to me, to Charlie, to Dad, that you’re not going anywhere.”
Steve swallowed. That mattered. More than he could ever say.

Grace studied him for a long beat, then sighed, rolling her eyes. “But if you ever break his heart again? I will make your life hell. Just so we’re clear.”

Steve huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Crystal.”

She smirked. “Good.” Then, with an easy shrug, “Go ask him already.”

Steve exhaled, tension he hadn’t realized he was holding finally leaving his shoulders. “Thanks, Gracie.”

She waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Just make sure I get a good seat at the wedding.”

Steve coughed, nearly spluttering on his own breath. “Are you serious?”

Grace just grinned, completely unfazed. “What? You’re slow as hell, McGarrett. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t drag this out another decade.”

-

Phase Two: Charlie Williams—Final Boss, Level 12 Difficulty

Charlie was shooting hoops in the driveway when Steve found him, bouncing the ball against the pavement with practiced ease.

Steve rolled up his sleeves. “Alright, kid. I need to talk to you.”

Charlie dribbled once, twice, then shot. The ball swished through the hoop.
“You gonna propose to Dad?”

Steve McGarrett, decorated Navy SEAL, five-star badass, actual war hero, just stood there.
“What is it with you and your sister?”

Charlie shrugged, jogging to get the ball. “You’re obvious.”

Steve groaned. “Unbelievable.”

Charlie stopped, spinning the ball on his finger, looking at Steve with that too-smart-for-his-own-good look. “So what do you need me for?”

Steve crossed his arms. “Same as Grace. If you don’t want me around, if you’re not okay with this, I won’t do it.”

Charlie studied him, silent. Then, casually, “You make Dad happy?”

Steve’s throat tightened. More than anything. “Yeah, buddy. I do.”

Charlie nodded. “You gonna stick around this time?”

Steve’s chest ached. But his voice was firm. “I swear, Charlie. I’m never leaving again.”

Charlie spun the ball one last time. Then, with a small smile, he tossed it at Steve.

Steve caught it easily.

Charlie crossed his arms, tilting his head. "Alright. But this comes with a price."

Steve smirked, leaning back. "Oh yeah? Name it."

Charlie grinned, eyes gleaming. "One-on-one. If I win, you take me and Dad on a trip. Somewhere awesome."

Steve arched an eyebrow. "And if I win?"

Charlie shrugged, completely unbothered. "You still take us on a trip. But I get to say I beat you for the rest of my life."

Steve huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "That so?"

Charlie nodded, completely serious.

Steve extended a hand. "Alright, deal."

Charlie smirked. "Hope you’re ready to lose, old man."

-

Final Level: One Stubborn Jersey Detective

The ocean stretched endlessly before him, the waves rolling in slow and steady, a familiar rhythm that had always kept him grounded. The night was warm, the salty breeze tugging at his clothes, the moon casting a silver glow across the sand.

Steve stood there, hands in his pockets, his mind racing even as his body remained perfectly still.

Footsteps crunched in the sand behind him, steady and familiar. A moment later, Danny was at his side, close enough that their arms brushed.
“You look deep in thought, babe,” Danny mused, tilting his head, eyes sharp even in the dim light.

Steve huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. Got a lot on my mind.”

Danny smirked, nudging him playfully. “You? Thinking? Dangerous.”

Steve chuckled, finally turning to face him fully. His heart was pounding, but his voice? Steady. Sure. Ready.

He took a deep breath, the kind that prepared him for something big. “Grace and Charlie gave me their blessing.”

Danny blinked, caught off guard. His mouth opened, then closed again. “Their blessing for—” His breath hitched as he put it together.

Steve didn’t make him wait.
He pulled a small box from his pocket and flicked it open with a quiet snap.

Danny froze.

Inside, nestled against dark velvet, was a simple, perfect ring.

His heart hammered against his ribs, his brain temporarily short-circuiting, caught between shock, awe, and a whole lot of holy shit.

Steve held his gaze, steady and unwavering. No teasing, no hesitation, no turning back.
“So now,” he said, his voice sure, strong, filled with nothing but love, “all I need is a yes from you.”

-

Final Level Unlocked: One Stubborn Jersey Detective

Danny stared at the ring, his throat suddenly dry, his heartbeat a mess of uneven staccato.
For once in his life, words didn’t come easy.

Steve just stood there, patient, steady, like he already knew the answer but wasn’t going to rush him.

Danny exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before letting out a breathless chuckle. “You really went and asked my kids first?”

Steve smirked, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “Had to make sure they were on board. Figured if I had them, I had a better shot with you.”

Danny let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “McGarrett logic. I swear to—” He stopped himself, biting his lip, his eyes flickering back to the ring, then to Steve’s face.

Steve, who had spent years driving him insane.
Steve, who had left and come back.
Steve, who had stayed.

His chest ached with something too big to put into words, something that had always been there but had never been allowed to breathe fully—until now.
Danny exhaled. “You really wanna do this?”

Steve’s brow furrowed slightly, lips pressing together. “Danny.” His voice softened, but there was no mistaking the conviction in it. “There’s nothing I want more.”

Danny swallowed, shaking his head in disbelief before letting out a huff of laughter. “This is crazy.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “That a no?”

Danny scoffed. “Did I say no, you idiot?”

Steve grinned, stepping a little closer, invading Danny’s space like it was his right, like they hadn’t been orbiting around each other for years, waiting for this exact moment.

Danny sighed, rolling his eyes, but it didn’t hide the way his throat tightened, the way his hands trembled slightly as he reached out, curling his fingers around Steve’s wrist.
“I swear to god, Steven, you’re the most stubborn, reckless, pain-in-my-ass human being on the planet.”

Steve smirked. “Yeah?”

Danny exhaled sharply, his lips twitching. Then, softer now, quieter, he whispered... “Yeah.” And then he nodded.

Steve didn’t move at first, like maybe he needed a second to let it sink in. Then—then—his face broke into the most radiant, breathtaking smile Danny had ever seen, and damn it all to hell, he was gone.

Completely, utterly gone.

Steve slipped the ring from the box, sliding it onto Danny’s finger with careful precision, like it was something sacred. Like he was making a promise not just with words, but with everything.

Danny turned his hand over, flexing his fingers slightly, testing the weight of it.

It felt right.
Like it had always been meant to be there.

Steve was still looking at him, eyes soft, full of something Danny had never doubted but had never quite let himself claim—not until now.

Danny let out a slow breath, then—because of course he couldn’t just let the moment be—he smirked.
“You know, babe,” he drawled, “if you’d just done this years ago, you could’ve saved us a whole lot of trouble.”

Steve groaned, dropping his forehead against Danny’s. “You gonna give me shit even now?”

Danny grinned. “You love it.”

Steve chuckled, wrapping an arm around Danny’s waist, pulling him in, their foreheads still pressed together, their breath mingling.
“I really do.”

Danny swallowed past the lump in his throat, tightening his grip on Steve’s shirt.
Then he whispered... “Yeah. Me too.”

And with the waves crashing behind them, with the stars above, with a lifetime ahead, Steve kissed him.

And this time, they were exactly where they were always meant to be.

-
-
-
The End
-
-
-

Chapter 41: Epilogue / Bonus

Notes:

A little gift ...for you all 🥰

Thank you for reading, following, enjoying, and commenting on this story until the end. 💜

💖 McDanno forever 💖

EPILOGUE / BONUS

-

Snow fell in soft, lazy flakes, blanketing the Montana landscape in white as the truck rumbled up the long driveway toward the ranch. The sky stretched wide and endless above them, the kind of winter blue that made everything feel crisp and new.

Charlie had spent the last forty minutes talking non-stop, practically vibrating with excitement in the back seat. “Wait till you see the view from the back porch, Gracie. You can see all the way down to the valley. And my room—God, it’s the best. Got a view of the barn, and Steve put in this cool wooden bed frame. It’s like something out of a log cabin.”

Gracie smirked, leaning her head against the window. “I swear, you sound like you own the place.”

Charlie shrugged. “I mean, I kinda do. I won it fair and square.” He grinned, shooting Steve a pointed look.

Danny snorted from the passenger seat. “Kid’s got a point, babe. You lost fair and square.”

Steve huffed, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “Barely.”

Charlie raised his hands. “A loss is a loss, McGarrett. And this—” He gestured to the snowy landscape around them. “This trip is my well-earned prize.”

Danny turned in his seat, smirking. “How’s it feel, babe? Losing to a twelve-year-old?”

Steve grumbled under his breath. “He’s got a ridiculous jump shot.”

Charlie beamed, sitting up taller. “Damn right, I do.”

Danny twisted fully in his seat now, eyeing his son. “Watch your mouth.”

Charlie didn’t even flinch. “You swear more than I do.”

Gracie let out a laugh, shaking her head. “God, I missed this.”

Steve’s grip on the wheel loosened. Because yeah—this was it. This was everything.

For the first time, Grace was here. On his ranch. The place he had once thought he’d never come back to, the place that had been nothing more than an escape. But now?
Now, it was something different.
It was theirs.

As they pulled up to the house, the wraparound porch dusted with fresh snow, Charlie practically launched himself out of the truck before Steve had fully parked. He ran ahead, boots crunching against the frozen ground, while Gracie climbed out at a normal human speed, taking everything in.

She turned a slow circle, gaze flicking over the towering pines, the old barn, the open stretch of land. “It’s beautiful.”

Steve stepped up beside her, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah?”

She nodded, a small, private smile on her lips. “Yeah.”

Danny clapped his hands together, shaking out the cold. “Alright, alright. We admiring the view or actually going inside? Because I don’t know about you, but I would kill for some coffee.”

Steve chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to Danny’s temple before unlocking the door. “Come on, old man. Let’s get you warmed up.”

Danny rolled his eyes but let Steve guide him in with a hand at the small of his back, and just like that, they were home.

The first thing Grace wanted to see was her room.

Charlie, of course, was thrilled to be the one to show her. “I told you—Steve made it just for you. The whole thing’s green.”

Grace arched an eyebrow. “Like, neon green?”

Steve snorted. “I have taste, Grace.”

Danny coughed under his breath. “Debatable.”

Grace stepped into the room, taking it in—the deep forest green walls, the warm wooden furniture, the soft white bedding. There were bookshelves lining the walls, filled with a mix of well-worn classics and newer titles, ones that had clearly been chosen with care. A framed picture sat on the nightstand, catching the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

Grace stepped closer, fingers brushing over the frame as she picked it up.

It was an old photo—one she hadn't seen in years.
She couldn’t have been older than ten, perched on Steve’s shoulders at the beach, arms thrown wide as if she were soaring. Her hair was windswept, cheeks flushed with laughter. Steve was grinning up at her, sun in his eyes, steady hands holding her in place like she was the most important thing in the world.

Something tightened in her chest.

She swallowed hard, placing the frame back gently, taking a slow breath before turning to face the room again.

The walls were painted a soft, deep green. The kind of color that felt warm. That felt intentional.

Charlie had talked about this room, had told her over and over again how Steve had set it up for her, how he had made sure it was ready, just in case she ever wanted to come.

And now, standing here, in this space he had made for her... she finally believed it.

A throw blanket in her exact favorite shade of sage green rested on the bed.
She ran her fingers over the fabric, pensively.

Steve stood in the doorway, watching as Grace took in the room, her fingers trailing absently over the throw blanket, her expression unreadable.

He had spent months thinking about this moment—wondering if she’d ever actually step foot in this space he had made for her, if she’d ever want to.
And now she was here.

Charlie, practically vibrating with excitement, turned to Steve with a triumphant grin. “Told you she’d like it.”

Grace rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, she let herself take another slow look around, eyes moving over the carefully chosen books, the soft light from the bedside lamp, the framed photo on the nightstand.

She had never doubted that Steve cared.

Not really.

She had doubted a lot of things—the choices he had made, the way he had left, the way he had stayed away for so long.

But this?
This room?
It was proof of something she had been too afraid to fully believe until now.

She had never stopped being a part of his life.

She looked over at him, the weight of that realization settling deep in her chest. “You really did all this?”

Steve shifted slightly, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious. “Figured you should have a place here. If you ever wanted it.”

Grace studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable—then, finally, she nodded. “I like it.”

And before Steve could even process the words, she moved—closing the distance between them in a heartbeat, her steps quick, decisive, before she threw her arms around him in a fierce, unguarded hug.

Steve barely had time to catch her, staggering back half a step as he wrapped his arms around her just as tightly.

Charlie fist-pumped the air. “Yes! I knew you would.”

Danny, still leaning in the doorway, let out a slow breath, his eyes warm as he took it all in.
His kids. His husband. His family.
This was what they had fought for. This was what they had rebuilt.

And now?

Now, they were here—together, in the home that had once been nothing more than a place Steve had run to, but was now something more.

A place they could return to. A place that, for the first time, wasn’t just Steve’s ranch. It was theirs.

-

Later that evening, after dinner, they sat by the fireplace, the room filled with the soft glow of Christmas lights and the warmth of something far deeper than just the fire.

Charlie sat cross-legged on the floor, determined to teach Steve and Grace some ridiculous new card game. “Alright, McGarrett, try to keep up. This takes actual skill.”
Steve smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, like basketball?”
Charlie grinned. “Exactly.”

Danny sighed, rubbing his temples. “God help us all.”

Steve nudged him lightly. “Come on, babe. Where’s your competitive spirit?”

Danny shot him a dry look. “I lost that the second I married you.”

Grace snorted. “You married him. That’s on you.”

Steve grinned, wrapping an arm around Danny’s shoulders. “See? She gets it.”

Danny huffed, but he didn’t move away. If anything, he sank into the warmth of Steve’s hold, letting himself have this.
Letting himself be happy.

Because they were here.
All four of them.

And for the first time in years, everything felt whole.

-

That night, as the house settled into the quiet hum of winter, Steve and Danny stood outside on the porch, looking out over the snow-covered land.

Danny shivered slightly, and without thinking, Steve wrapped his arms around him from behind, tucking his chin over Danny’s shoulder.
“You warm enough?” Steve murmured.

Danny huffed, but there was no real bite to it. “You’re a damn furnace, babe. I’m fine.”

Steve pressed a kiss just behind his ear. “Good.”

For a while, they just stood there, letting the cold air bite at their cheeks, the stars stretching out endlessly above them.

Danny let out a long, slow breath. “You happy?”
Steve tightened his hold around him, pressing his lips briefly against Danny’s temple. “Yeah. Happiest I’ve ever been.”

Danny leaned back against him, letting himself believe it. Because this wasn’t a dream. Wasn’t some fleeting moment of peace before everything fell apart again.
This was their life now.

Steve let the quiet settle between them for a moment, the weight of everything good sinking into his bones before he murmured, “You?”

Danny exhaled, tilting his head slightly, just enough to glance at Steve out of the corner of his eye. A slow smirk tugged at his lips. “Nah. Absolute misery. Waking up next to you every day? A nightmare, really.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, nuzzling against the side of Danny’s face. “Yeah? That right?”

Danny hummed, all faux-seriousness. “Oh yeah. The worst mistake of my life. Should’ve run while I had the chance.”

Steve smirked, his breath warm against Danny’s skin. “Too late now.”

Danny sighed dramatically, though his fingers traced along Steve’s forearm where they were wrapped around him. “Guess I’m stuck with you, huh?”

Steve tightened his hold, voice low and sure. “Yeah, babe. You are.”

Danny smiled, small but real, and leaned in a little more.

The snow stretched out before them, quiet and endless, the world still and peaceful. Inside, their kids were warm, safe, happy.

And here, on this porch, in the place where everything had once felt like an ending—

It finally felt like a beginning.

-

THE END.