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‘Uncle Steve!’ shouts Grace, and it’s all Danny can do to stop the Camaro before she’s out the door and running towards his partner, who is clad in a loose t-shirt and boardshorts as he fiddles with the hinges on his front gate.
I’m doing a project on you!’ Grace announces, skidding to a stop, and Steve’s eyebrows quirk upwards as he straightens from his crouch.
‘On me?’ he says, grin starting on his face, and Danny takes it as his cue to come from behind him and thwap the goof on the back of his head.
‘No, not you, specifically,’ he says, ‘as much as all of us here know you would love that. Grace’s school, in its infinite wisdom,’ he pauses for emphasis, ‘is having her do a report on seals.’
‘That’s great!’ Steve exclaims, eyes lighting up, and Danny sighs, holds up a finger to batten down Steve’s enthusiasm.
‘No, you dolt, not SEALs. Seals. The swimming, barking, eats-a-lot-of-fish type, you reading me here?’
‘That sounds just like Uncle Steve, Danno,’ pipes up his daughter, and her bright eyes are mischievous in the glossy Hawaiian sunshine and Danny is hard-pressed to remember the last time he loved her more as Steve crosses his arms, mouth descending into a firm line.
‘I don’t always eat fish,’ he states resolutely. ‘Now, you two planning on staying for lunch? I’m grilling tuna.’
Grace dissolves into giggles and, with a put-upon sigh, Steve bends down and picks her up, stowing the eight-year old under his arm like she’s a parcel, and he carries her off up the front path to the house, leaving Danny to trail behind.
Choosing to ignore the soft stutter his heart gives at the ear-to-ear grin Steve casts him back over his shoulder, Danny turns to lock the Camaro, and he definitely does not use the moment to wipe off the smirk gathering on his own face.
Someone has to be the adult in this partnership, after all.
----
The email pops up on Tuesday morning, when Danny’s partway through a phonecall to a particularly persistent estate agent who won’t take ‘no, I moved into my shiny new abode four years ago and am very happy there thank you,’ for an answer. The message is titled How long can a seal hold its breath underwater? and is from Steve’s phone, and Danny rolls his eyes, not even bothering to click the link to open it.
‘Funny, McGarrett, real funny,’ he calls out through the open glass door of his office, but it’s Chin who answers him, steaming cup of coffee in hand as he pauses on his way back towards his own desk.
‘Steve’s not been in yet this morning,’ he comments, leaning against the doorjamb and glancing inside. ‘Something about getting a new fridge delivered?’
Danny snorts, remembering. ‘Yeah, his last one broke when we were out on that three-day stakeout last week,’ he informs Chin, trying for the sake of his stomach not to remember the smell that had enveloped Steve’s kitchen when they had gone to grab a couple of beers their first evening out of the hell-hole Steve had insisted on calling a surveillance van. ‘Lieutenant Commander Fix-it tried to repair it himself but - and I’m sure this’ll shock you as much as it did me - turns out he’s better at shooting things than making them work.’
‘I’m guessing it didn’t so go well then,’ says Chin, cocking a knowing eyebrow before heading back to his office and Danny tunes in once again to the agent, who’s been yammering on all this time about a great new opportunity just opened up on the South Shore.
He’s seriously debating whether a feigned heart attack would be enough to shut down the conversation with a veneer of civility when, a minute later, Chin comes back, this time with Lou and Kono in tow. All three of them have looks on their faces that means something’s up and he pulls the phone away from his ear, muttering ‘miscreant' none too quietly as he does so.
‘What?’ he demands, and the agent lets out a tinny squawk of masculine offence as he stabs his forefinger at the phone to end the call.
‘We’ve all got the same email from Steve, Kono says, brushing back a piece of dark hair that has fallen forward over the shell of her ear.
‘What, the one about the seals?’ he asks. He leans back in his chair, reassured that disaster has been averted, for today at least. ‘That, my friends, is McGarrett being an idiot. Grace had this project about them a few years back and Steve, comedian that he is, still thinks it’s funny to send me the occasional fact about his fishy brethren, like I need that in my life-’
‘You tried to open it?’ Lou cuts in.
Danny shakes his head.
‘It asks for a password,’ Chin says. ‘I’ve tried all McGarrett’s usual ones but nothing’s working.’
‘You know his passwords?’ Danny asks, interest piqued, but Chin is reaching over his shoulder for the laptop on his desk and Danny lets him tap at the email link. An error screen comes up, then a box appears, asking the question that had appeared in the title.
'I'm telling you,’ Danny starts, ‘it’s just Steve-’ but Chin shakes his head, dark eyes serious.
'Why send it to all of us if the jokes only on you?' he asks, and Danny has no answer for that, so he leans forward closer to look at the screen, cursing the sunlight filtering in through the slatted window behind him that makes it hard to see.
‘How about we just answer the question?’ he demands impatiently. He bats Chin away, then pauses to think a moment. 2 hours, he finally types dubiously, almost wanting to include a question mark it’s been so long since Grace’s project was due. He hits return. The box flashes, then a video screen comes up – pixelated but clear enough to make out the captured image.
‘What the hell-’ Lou says from behind him, but Danny’s already leaning forward, fingers wrapped around the corner of the screen as he stares at the dim, blurry video tinted with the familiar greenish tinge of night-vision.
It’s Steve, or his top half at least, a leather strap about his throat just visible above the water slapping high at his bare shoulders, tattoos barely discernible in the rippling half-dark. The strap is fixed to a sturdy wooden post rising high behind him and its sharp, barnacled surface gleams wetly as Steve yanks back his head, the reason why becoming obvious as more water – a wave – washes into view, and it’s followed by another wave and another and Steve is coughing as water spills into his mouth and Danny realises that it’s the tide, that it’s the goddamn ocean and Steve is trapped somewhere with it rising high about him and how the hell did this happen, what the hell, what the hell?
He surges to his feet, gaze fixed on the image on screen. ‘Ping his phone,’ he orders, not knowing who he is talking to, just needing someone to do it, to have it done yesterday, and he barely clues in that he’s snapped out the words until Lou puts a large hand on his shoulder, gives him a rough shake.
‘We’re doing it, Danny, alright? We got this. We’ll get McGarrett back-’
But he’s off, stalking to the computer table where Kono is already typing furiously, Chin leaning over her shoulder as he feeds her ideas. The video has appeared on the topmost monitor and without the reflection from his office window he’s able to make out Steve’s face, and his eyes are wide and dark and clearly unfocused and Danny can see droplets of sweat beading close to his hairline as Steve again jerks back his head, clearly desperate to escape. The view shifts, tilting, and Danny realises someone’s recording, that shit, someone’s filming this, then the camera lurches, drops, and all that is visible is a short stretch of sand before the view fizzles, darkens, goes out.
‘Got it,’ Kono snaps and there it is, a little blinking dot set over the coast to the east. Tearing his gaze away from the screen, Danny turns, strides out of the bullpen, heads blindly for the door. The others are behind him, Chin pausing a moment to grab some equipment, but it is no more than a few seconds before he is following as they clatter down the central staircase of the Iolani Palace.
‘It’s just gone 11.00 in the morning,’ Chin says, almost tripping on their heels as he catches up. ‘When did any of us last hear from McGarrett?’
The breath catches in Danny’s throat, chest going tight as he realises what Chin’s getting at. ‘This morning,’ he forces himself to say as they clear security and make for the entrance, the polished sheen of the foyer’s marble floor disappearing beneath their feet. ‘Just after half eight. Steve texted me about his goddamn fridge!’ He slams a hand on the huge wooden door leading outside and behind him one of the uniformed guards lets out a yell.
He spins to yell back but firm hands on his shoulders are tugging him away and he remembers Steve, he’s gotta get to Steve and he turns around, strides across the asphalt towards where the Camaro gleams black on the other side of the lot.
‘That means it could already have been two hours,’ Kono says behind him and at her side Lou curses, following their train of thought.
‘We need to go,’ Chin responds, and Danny nods silently, breaks into a run.
----
‘Hang on a sec, let me guess - you actually think that that’s funny,’ says Danny, eying the stuffed toy seal that is clamped under Steve’s arm as he waits on Danny’s doorstep.
‘It’s for Gracie,’ says Steve, ‘to help her with her project.’ He’s got that face on, the one that says I’m charming and you love it, and Danny sighs before opening the door fully, allowing Steve entry to where Grace is sat in the middle of the apartment floor, surrounded by fragments of coloured cardboard and bits of sparkly glitter that Danny knows are coming out of his cleaning deposit.
Grace is delighted, of course, and once she’s done admiring it puts the toy in pride of place in the middle of the couch so it can ‘supervise the project, Danno,’ and Danny’s not sure if he is proud or apprehensive about the ring of authority in her little voice.
Steve’s grinning as he sits down next to the seal, giraffe legs outstretched as though he belongs there, and perhaps he does, Danny’s still trying to figure that part of things out, so he throws up his hands and heads for the kitchen, deciding it’s in his best interests to get them all some dinner.
‘I’m going to name him Steve,’ he hears Grace says as he pulls plates out of the cupboard and he takes a well-deserved moment away from his work to bang his head gently against the edge of the cupboard door.
‘Cause that’s not going to get confusing at all,’ he mutters, and heads to the fridge for some salad.
----
His phone is blinking 11.43am as he swerves the Camaro into the parking lot outside Makaha Point, Lou gripping the grab handle with everything he’s got but keeping his jaw clenched tight. They’re too late, he knows they’re too late, but there was little way to speed up the journey between the Palace and the point and he lets out a desperate laugh because hey, Steve could have done it, could have flown them there in a chopper, but Steve’s likely belly up and floating with the fishes by now and he can’t handle this, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.
Kono and Chin are right at their backs - the doors of Chin’s Mustang left to hang wide as the four of them race for the cliffs that form this part of the coast. In front of them, a dozen feet from where the ground drops out, a loud amber sign proclaims CAVES in black letters, with the big bold print emblazoned above a large arrow which points the only path down.
Chin goes first, familiar with the area from his childhood, with Kono following sure-footed as a goat - one hand on the butt of her gun as the other trails the cliff wall. She used to surf off these rocks she’d told them on the radio on the drive over, and Danny prays her knowledge helps as he scrambles down behind the two cousins, ignoring the grumbling twinge of his knee as they descend the crude-hewn steps leading to the warren of tidal caves the area is known for. The dislodging of stones scattering past him signal Lou at his back, his heavier bulk making it harder for him to get down the gritty, contorting path, and soon they outpace him, though his muttered curses come rapid and clear over their earpieces, volume up and loud against the crashing ocean that beats and breathes below.
Not soon enough they reach the foot of the cliffs, where the path spills out onto a craggy plateau slippery with breaching waves that splash and play where the bedrock spears into the water. Panting, Danny takes in the rock pools around him, the seafoam and the miniature geysers that spray forth with the tide as it heaves in and out. He can hear the cry of seabirds and the salty wash of waves and it’s beautiful, is what it is, and he hates it, hates Oahu, hates the islands and most of all he hates Steve for not being there with him.
Behind them are misshapen arches and archaic cavefronts creeping their way into the cliffs that soar high behind at their backs. There are too many to count and Danny’s heart sinks even as he gulps for breath, aware on his periphery of his knee now screaming at him. But his focus stays on Chin, who is staring intently at the tracker he has clutched in one hand. And a second passes, stretches longer than a lifetime, then Chin is swinging round, eagle-gaze raking over the scavenged rocks, and abruptly he is jogging, then breaking into a sprint, until he’s vanished under an archway with Danny limping behind.
‘Here!’
There’s a shout and a splash and Danny breaks into a run, ignoring his knee, ignoring everything but the need to be where Chin is. He hears Kono calling, then he’s ducking down and abruptly it's dark and he needs to get out but he forces himself onwards, his hand on his gun, and finally stumbles to a halt before a deep tidal pool hidden in the midst of a shallow, sandy cave. Chin's in the water, the dark shape of him bobbing by the barnacled tip of a thick wooden post, and before Danny can even ask, Chin looks up and he shakes his head.
It’s a gut punch. A gut punch and a deep brassy pounding that starts in his ears and it’s louder than the crash and turn of the ocean, but then Chin’s eyes widen and he’s saying something, that he means there’s no body, that there’s nobody there, and abruptly the pounding slows, fractures into pieces, and Danny collapses backwards to land ass-down on the sandy cave floor, all the strength seeping out of his legs.
Kono appears from somewhere. Dropping her bright-lit phone to the ground, she kneels down and helps a dripping Chin haul himself out of the water, muscles straining beneath his sodden shirt until he sits on the rocky edge of the pool, outlined murkily by the meagre light entering from outside as it bounces off the walls and the rippling surface of the water.
He holds out two items.
‘These were fastened to the pole,’ he says and Danny reaches forward, ignores the water-logged cell-phone he recognises as Steve’s and takes the red-stained, zip-locked bag from Chin before he realises what’s inside.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he swears, loud and low, and the slow pounding is starting up in his head again, drowning out the shocked sound from Kono as she grabs the palm-sized bag, holding it up to the light spilling out from her phone. He sees the instant her eyes go agate-hard, knows she’s clocked what's within, then she’s striding away and Danny watches as she holds the bag in turn up to Lou, who’s finally reached them, huffing and puffing and taking up way too much space as he edges his way inside the cave, making it even darker as he comes to a stop with a long arm braced on the curved, craggy wall.
Lou stares at the bag for a second before turning aside and retching, and Danny’s damn glad that someone else has lost their stomach because he’s pretty sure he’s only a second away from losing his.
As one, their phones beep, an incoming alert.
They look at each other, then reach for them, Kono grabbing hers up from the sand, and silence descends as they each scan the message flashing up on their screens, lining the rocky walls with an eerie electronic light – another email from Steve, from his laptop this time.
Seal skin is highly prized on the international market, the message reads. But how much is it worth?
Danny stares at it, the typeface swelling up, swallowing him whole. Kono has gone dead white, colour draining from her face and Chin’s has taken on the same kind of pinched look that Danny remembers from the months after Malia.
‘What kind of sick son of a bitch-' starts Lou, his voice trailing off.
Danny forces himself to clamber to his feet, using a rock behind him as a bulwark. His stomach is swooping and his legs feel like lead apart from the burning of his god-damn knee, so it’s without protest that he allows Chin to curl a damp hand behind his back as they one by one make their way along the passage and duck out under the low-hanging arch until they stand bunched together beneath the postcard-perfect sky. The tide has come in a little.
‘Look.’ Kono points towards a darkened splotch on the edge of the plateau, nearest to the open ocean. ‘That look like blood to anyone else?’
‘It looks pretty recent-’ Chin starts, but drops silent when another beep sounds, another email, this time with an address popping up on screen.
26 Loa'a Street, it reads. The seal show starts soon.
----
‘Have you seen Steve?’ asks Grace, and Danny stops short of rolling his eyes by reminding himself that he raised this child, this wonderful, magical child who is the light of his life, despite her ridiculous taste in names.
‘Fish or man?’ he responds instead, putting the game on mute and setting down the remote on the low table that sits beside the McGarrett couch.
His daughter, clad in a polkadotted swimsuit and shorts, gives him a disparaging look. ‘Seals aren’t fish, they’re marine mammals,’ she tells him and Danny holds a hand over his heart, unable to stop his grin.
‘Forgive me, my lady,’ he beseeches, watching for the small smile that starts to creep over her face, ‘for such a grievous error.’
‘That’s okay, Danno,’ Grace tells him. ‘I’ll forgive you. If-’ she adds slowly, drawing out the last word.
‘If?’ Danny repeats.
‘If you help me find Uncle Steve. He promised to take me rock-pooling.’
Danny levers himself to his feet. ‘Well,’ he announces, setting his hands on his hips, ‘if there’s one thing I’ve learnt about your Uncle Steve, gigantic knucklehead that he is, that man makes a promise then there is nothing, nothing that will stop him from keeping it and I’m talking hell, high water and common sense here. Gimme a second.’ He mimes putting on a hat and Grace beams at him, knowing what he’s doing. ‘Now that I have my detective cap on, let’s go find this rogue SEAL. To kick-start our investigation, what do seals like to do?’
‘Um…swim?’ Grace suggests, and Danny claps a hand to his forehead in feigned amazement.
‘I’ve raised a genius!’ he exclaims. ‘A master detective. Watch out, all you criminal masterminds, my Monkey’s on the case! Ok, let’s think about this. If seals like to swim, where are we likely to find one?’
‘In the water?’
‘Fantastic!’ He glances out the window, where he knows Steve’s t-shirt is hanging over the corner of the lanai, well-worn shoes that in his view should be well on their way to the trashcan stacked carefully next to it. ‘And where can we find water on an island?’
‘At the beach!’
‘Yes!’ He lifts Grace’s arm, proclaiming her the champion she is, then gathers her up under her arms and lifts her high to sit proudly on his shoulders. ‘Come on, Monkey, let’s go find your Uncle Steve, who, according to our supreme and fantastically-developed detective skills, is doing what SEALs do best.’
He carries her out of the room, making her squeal and duck as he twists to avoid banging her head on the lintel, and they head down to the beach just in time to see Steve coming ashore from his swim, droplets draining off of him as though in slow-motion. It’s like a scene from James Bond and Danny’s heart does a funny little twist of its own as Steve smiles at him and Grace before shaking his head like a wet dog. Grace squeals again as she’s scattered with water and Danny rubs at his damp ear, makes himself scowl at the Neanderthal he calls his partner.
‘You have the maturity of a three-year old,’ he informs him, and Steve smirks at him before reaching up to lift Grace over his head in order to place her on his own, annoyingly higher, shoulders.
‘A little fish I met out there reminded me we have a date,’ he says to her, and Danny’s scowl is real this time.
‘No dates until she’s thirty,’ he tells him, and Grace’s put-upon sigh is balm to his heart, even as the thought tugs at him that she might have learnt it from Steve.
‘You kidding me?’ Steve says, shifting on his toes and bouncing Grace up and down a little. ‘This one will be fighting them off with a stick, Danno.’
‘Fighting what off, Uncle Steve?’
Steve darts a quick look at Danny. ‘Fish,’ he tells Grace, glancing up so he can see her small face perched above him and giving her a sunny smile. ‘Lots and lots of fish.’
‘Can you show me how to fight fish off with a stick?’ Grace asks him eagerly, and Danny sends Steve a look to tell him that this conversation is not getting better.
To his credit, Steve blanches a little but recovers himself. ‘How about we start with me showing you some of those rock pools,’ he suggests, and Grace’s delighted squeak and Steve’s answering grin makes Danny’s chest do that little lurching thing again.
Not that he’d ever tell anyone.
Especially not Steve.
----
It's a twenty-minute drive to Loa’a Street and they do it in fifteen, this time all crammed into the Camaro, the faster of the two cars. His grip on the wheel so tight his knuckles are turning pale, Danny detaches a hand long enough to run it over his hair then throws a glance at Chin, whose back is ramrod straight where he sits shotgun in the passenger seat, navigating them down backways uncrowded with Oahu’s traffic.
Focused on the road in front of them, Chin spares a moment to flick him a look. ‘We’ll get him back, Danny,’ is all he says, and Danny nods, foot leaden on the accelerator as he switches lanes before swerving them round a corner.
‘Yeah,’ is all he’s able to get out and knows without looking it is Kono’s hand that comes to rest, small but firm on his shoulder.
Three marked police cars are pulled up on the kerb when they reach their destination, on a short stretch of grass that is straggly, unkempt and looking all the worse for the lush lawns that surround it. Number 26 is a bungalow, squatting low and alone between two new-builds. Its sloping grey roof houses a scatter of broken tiles, its window shutters dangle loose and askew and the bright blue paint flaking from off the front door gives the place the look of something uncared for – a broken toy, discarded by its owner.
Hauling himself out of the Camaro, he’s barely looked round when an HPD cop approaches, straight black hair caught back in a knot at the base of her neck and with a glinting silver badge proclaiming her in charge of the looping streamer of police tape sectioning off the bungalow from the rest of the street.
‘We’ve had shots fired,’ is her pronouncement and he lifts a curt hand in acknowledgement, gaze skirting over the grey-tiled house with its cracked-open skylight, then over to where a SWAT van is pulling up a dozen yards away, Lou and Kono already striding to meet it.
‘You hear that?’ he says shortly to Chin as the officer turns away, reaching for the radio on her shoulder to call their arrival in.
Chin nods, all business as he rounds the car to halt at Danny’s side, meanwhile tugging at his tac-vest to tighten it. ‘What else do you have for us, Sergeant Kalani?’ he asks as the cop finishes relaying her message, and Danny listens in, gut drawing tight as he hears report of the round of gunfire that had greeted the first officers to arrive on the scene.
‘So what, we got an army in there or something?’ he demands, drumming his fingers on the curve of the Camaro’s roof. He knows he’s on edge, knows his temper is getting the best of him and doesn’t care, the rapping report of Steve, Steve, Steve resounding like thunder in the back of his head, a constant refrain growing louder with every passing minute.
‘It’s close to it, Detective.’ Breaking through his thoughts, Kalani gestures to the bungalow with a jut of her chin. ‘The neighbours tell me this place belongs to a retired colonel. From the accuracy of the fire we’ve received and the type of ammo being used, I’d say we can assume he’s home.’
Chin’s mouth is a grim line. ‘Why would someone ex-army go after McGarrett?’ he says and Danny shakes his head.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ he retorts. Jittery and impatient, he paces over to the police tape and back, raises a hand to shade away the blare of the afternoon sun just as heavy footsteps mark Lou’s return, fresh from conferring with his ex-colleagues in SWAT. Kono is behind him, following in his wake, tugging her hair back into a band as she gazes at the bungalow, and Danny has no doubt she’s scanning it for weaknesses with her sharp sniper eyes.
‘Well,' he demands, as Lou stops before him. ‘What’ve you got?’
‘Word is there’s a heat signal coming from the kitchen,' Lou announces, bracing his hands on the front hood of the Camaro.
‘Could be an oven left on,’ suggests Chin.
‘Could be our boy,’ returns Lou.
‘Call me crazy but I want us to be sure.’ Chin nods up towards the house. ‘If we end up storming this place, we need to be certain Steve isn’t going to get caught in any crossfire. If he’s even in there.’
Lou is shaking his head. ‘I don’t think we have time for a choice here. I mean, going by the contents of that little bag we found? I’d say we gotta get into that house and I’m talking now.’
‘And how are we gonna do that, huh?’ Danny snaps, rounding on them both, and that's it, it’s final, his patience is gone, and his hands are cutting through the air as he turns on them. ‘Because please, please, and correct me if I’m wrong, from what the good sergeant’s just told us, last cop to try and get inside that place is on his way to Tripler with a bullet-hole in him that’s trying to become a permanent resident!' A wave of his hand encompasses Five-0 and Kalani and the vehicles at the scene, a milling morass of business and efficiency and he can’t do this again, can’t have this be another Afghanistan, North Korea or a goddamn dry cleaners. ‘Come on, somebody, anyone, just give me an idea! We’re already one person down this morning, I don’t want to lose another one before I’ve had the chance to have some lunch!’
The silence that follows is loud and ringing above the chaos of their surrounds, and it doesn’t end until Chin finally clears his throat.
‘Calm it down a little, brah,’ is all he says, though his gaze is sympathetic, and Lou just eyes him until Danny spins on his heel and strides away, knowing it’s either that or start kicking himself because he knows, he knows, the others want to get Steve back too.
Spotting Kono detaching herself from the group as well, he follows her, seizing upon the distraction as she heads towards the back of the Camaro.
‘What, you got nothing say, Kalakaua?’ he demands. ‘No bright ideas bouncing round in that head of yours?’
Kono raises an eyebrow but constrains herself to rapping her knuckles on the outside of the trunk, laconic and sure. 'You mind letting me in, Williams?' she says.
Recognising her even-keeled tone as the warning it is, he digs viciously in his pocket for the key fob, wrenches it free as it gets caught on a seam, then with a press of the button he watches as she reaches into the trunk, rummaging about at the back.
He can’t help himself. ‘You gonna let me in on your little plan, huh?’
In answer, Kono backs up and presses a flashbang into his hand. ‘I thought we could try a version of McGarrett’s frittata technique,’ she says, and Danny is suddenly, abruptly, ecstatically glad that their little rookie has learnt a level of crazy off Steve that most cops wouldn’t even entertain.
He holds his hand over his heart. ‘Things like this, this is why you’re my favourite,’ he tells her as she slams the trunk closed.
‘I promise I won’t tell the boss,’ is her arch reply and she heads towards Chin to mutter in his ear, curling a loose hand over his shoulder. Chin jerks back his head to stare at his cousin, but then gives it a shake and follows as Kono strides off towards the neighbouring house on the right, aiming for a towering wooden trellis stretching up the side of the double-storey porch.
‘You mind telling me what’s going on?’ Lou demands, looming up behind Danny as he watches them go.
Danny reaches up to scrub his fingers through his dishevelled hair, then smooths it back, palm flat and rapid. ‘We’re taking a leaf out of McGarrett’s book, that’s what’s happening.’
‘I better get my body armour on,’ Lou grumbles. 'Let me guess, we’re going in?'
He nods. ‘We’re going in.’
----
‘Grace, get back here!’ Danny bellows, refusing to chase after his wayward daughter. ‘Don’t make me come get you!’
A grinning Grace appears from around the rocky corner of the Ka’ena Point Natural Area Reserve trail. ‘Hurry up, Danno!’ she exclaims, bouncing on her feet.
‘Yeah, Danno,’ says Steve, appearing behind her like a genie from a bottle, and Danny shakes his head as he catches up with them.
‘Why, Steven,’ he demands, putting a hand on Grace’s head to keep her lodged firmly on the ground, ‘why, pray tell, are you carrying my daughter’s backpack?’
'Pray tell?' is the response, and Danny narrows his eyes, foot tapping impatiently.
'Just answer the question, why don’t you?’
Steve's gaze turns distant, face shifting silent and stoic as he looks down the dirt path winding away before them. ‘Lost a bet,' he says shortly.
Danny glances down at Grace, her silky, sun-lightened hair soft beneath his calloused fingers. ‘To my eight-year old daughter?’
‘What, you surprised?' Steve fires.
‘That it’s taken this long, maybe.’
‘Come on, Danno,’ urges Grace, squirming out from underneath his hand and reaching up to tug on the front of his white t-shirt, which is sticking to his skin despite the earliness of the morning hour. ‘We’ve seen the albatrosses, now we gotta see the seals.’
‘We’ve got our very own SEAL, right here,’ Danny answers. ‘Look, see. Tall, kind of skulky. In fact, we could have seen him back in his natural habitat, at his house. No need to have walked all this way at all.’
‘But it’s fun!’
And with a skip she’s away, dancing off along the path with her braids streaming out behind her. He watches her go, wonders where she gets the energy because it’s certainly not from him, with the result that it takes him a second to clock that Steve has come to stand at his side, SEAL-iness forgotten and a smirk lodged firmly on his face as he swings Grace’s bright pink backpack by a blunt-knuckled little finger.
‘You gotta admit, man,' says Steve, ‘those birds were something else.’ He grins. ‘I mean, talk about wingspan. It was something, huh?'
Danny flicks a sharp glance at him but Steve’s already looking back in the direction of the trail, eyes following Grace as she slips along the path.
‘Yeah, they were nice. Big birds, very big. But I thought you dragged us out here to see some seals for Grace’s project, am I right? So where are they? Or are you gonna keep us wandering around out here all morning?’
‘You’re an impatient man, you know that?’ Steve demands. ‘How about you show a bit of appreciation for nature for once?'
‘Appreciation, he says-'
‘Yeah, appreciation.’
‘You know, I could appreciate the flora and fauna of this miserable island-'
'Flora and fauna?’
'- just fine from my couch, watching the Discovery Channel.’
Steve scoffs. ‘Where’s your sense of adventure, Danno?’
‘In bed, asleep, where we should all be this early on a Sunday morning!'
Steve, of course, refuses to allow him the last word and it means they are still arguing as they round the last uphill curve of the path and breach the tip of Ka’ena Point, finally being in position to look out on the sheltered cove that is nestled at the base of the jagged curve of cliffs.
They come to a halt as one.
A scene of blue and white, turquoise and aquamarine stretches before them, the vista reaching out, meandering, until it gently merges, the horizon with the sea. Nearer to them, cossetted in a sheltered arc, the rhythmic wash of waves over red-brown rocks leaves streamers of white frothing water trailing backwards within the cove, only to be subsumed by another wash of the salty ocean as it heaves and billows at its own slow pace. Amongst it all, poised here and there on jutting bits of rock, are dotted the small stone-coloured bulks of the monk seals Steve had dragged them out here to see for Grace’s project.
Acutely aware of Grace slipping over to his side, Danny reaches out and feels her take his hand as they look silently over the sweeping waves and the graceful, sunlit tidepools, slowly gazing their fill at the dozen or so seals lolling lazily in the water. Vaguely, he’s conscious of Steve sinking into a low crouch beside them and lifting up his arm, pointing with his index finger to the seal closest to them, which, though still far away, can just be made out as slightly longer than the others.
‘See that one, Gracie?’ Steve says. ‘That’s the mom. They’re usually a little bigger than the males.’
A tiny line appears between Grace’s eyebrows as she scrunches her face and she gives a disappointed little shake of her head. 'I can’t see it,’ she says.
Rising to his feet, Steve reaches into his backpack, discarded on the ground, and digs out a pair of high-powered binoculars that look dented and worn, most likely from Steve’s SEAL days and even more likely the property of the United States government. ‘Here, try these,’ he says, handing them to Grace.
Slipping her fingers free, Grace takes them from him and lifts them up to her eyes with both her hands. They near enough cover her entire face but Danny is still able to make out her blossoming beam as she sets eyes on the mom-seal for the first time.
Lowering the binoculars, Grace cranes her neck upwards. ‘How come you know so much about seals, Uncle Steve?’ she asks.
Steve raises an eyebrow, having risen to his feet. ‘You kidding me, Gracie? I served with them for years, your daddy’s told you that.’
Danny is unable to hold in his snort. 'Seeing them get through BUD/S must have been a real eye-opener, huh,’ he says sarcastically as his daughter dissolves into giggles.
‘No kidding,’ Steve says, deadpan. ‘Kept barking orders the whole time like they were in charge of things. Good in the water though. Great swimmers. Almost as good as me.’ He waggles his eyebrows comically.
‘You’re silly, Uncle Steve.’
'He is,’ Danny tells her. ‘He’s also a nutcase.’
'But he's our nutcase, right, Danno?'
Danny flicks a glance at his partner, whose ears, he is amused to see, have flushed brightly red even as he stares out across the bay, battle-hardened SEAL face once more to the fore.
'Yeah,' he answers, taking a breath of the clean salty air as he turns back to his daughter, drinking in the freshness, the sky and the vast sweeping sea. ‘Yeah, I guess he is.’
And that’s the first time he sort of says something to Steve.
----
Danny’s grip on his pistol is so tight it hurts and he’s abruptly glad of the gloves that protect it from his sweating palms as he waits for Lou to finish corralling HPD and the SWAT team. Forcing himself to loosen his fingers, he watches tensely as the latter is sent around to the back of the bungalow, skirting the far side of a neighbour’s garden, while HPD stays posted out front, hopefully keeping the attention of whoever is inside focused on them rather than on Chin and Kono.
The urge to put up a hand to shade his eyes is strong, but he knows he can do nothing that might give the game away as the cousins holster their weapons before nimbly scaling the double-height trellis and pulling themselves up onto the roof. He watches as they make the wide, careful leap down onto the single-storey bungalow, tiles rattling beneath their boots, then it is mere seconds before Kono is pulling free several flashbangs as she crouches beside the skylight. Danny has time to think that Steve would be proud, then the things are dropping in and the signal is given and he and Lou are storming up the front path and kicking open the door, Chin and Kono close behind them after swinging themselves down by the gutter so they enter the house on their heels.
The front door opens straight into the main room, empty apart from the wafting remains and scattered pieces of the exploded flashbangs. With one encompassing glance, Danny makes out an upturned table and what he thinks is Steve’s laptop tumbled on the floor as he calls the room clear, then they are swinging round, with Lou, Kono and Chin branching off and announcing each side room empty. United again, they head for the back of the house, where a broken chair lies halfway across a meagre kitchen’s dull linoleum flooring, and the pounding in his head starts again as he makes out a splatter of strewn blood, the heft of a body just apparent amongst some smudged, gleaming marks which lead towards a panelled door.
Beside him, Chin nods towards it and the two of them move forwards in sync, Kono and Lou guarding their backs, weapons raised and at the ready. Skin humming, Danny focuses on his breathing and it means he is able to keep silent when he kicks through the doorway to see a bare-chested Steve half-sprawled against a flimsy screen door that opens out to the yard, his eyes obscured by what looks like a knotted t-shirt and with a gun being held to his head.
‘Did you know,’ says the man who is holding it, ‘that up to 300 000 seals are killed a year by poachers?’ He laughs, and it is thin and bitter and Danny knows they’re dealing with someone who probably isn’t going to be so big on the whole reason thing. ‘They kill them for their fur and their fat and their skins.’ From his position pressed against the wall of the small laundry room, back against the bare brickwork and Steve slumped limply against his side, the man nudges Steve with his gun, making his head tilt further down the netted screen. ‘Not much fat on this one though.’
Holding up a hand to the others, Danny makes himself step forward.
‘How about you let him go, huh?’ he says, and it’s restrained and controlled and everything he’s not feeling right now, but he needs the crazy person to put down the gun and get the hell away from Steve, whose head has sagged down even further, leaving behind a thick slide of blood that Danny really wishes wasn’t there.
‘Not gonna happen,’ the man says, and he clamps a thick hand around the back of Steve’s neck, tightening his grip as he stares at Danny. His fingernails are blunt, strong and square, his teeth white in his tanned, lined face, and Danny can tell even beneath the man’s loose black t-shirt that his shoulders are tight and muscled. ‘Seals killed my boy. So I’ve gotta kill them.’
Forcing himself not to react, Danny takes a second step forward, unable to stop his eyes straying to the strip of skin missing from Steve’s chest, just across his ribs. The shallow, flat wound is weeping sluggish and slow and dried blood is sheeting the low-riding waistband of what looks to be Steve’s boardshorts.
‘Keep him talking,’ he hears Kono breathe into his ear, then she’s slipping away and Danny forces himself not to let his eyes dart to the slight signs of movement he can make out beyond the door, where SWAT is waiting in the yard.
Setting his jaw, he resettles his fingers on the grip of his gun but makes no other movement, despite the sweat he can feel building at the nape of his neck. ‘What do you mean?’ he makes himself say. ‘How did seals take your son? How’s that work, huh?’
The man needs no encouragement, words spilling forth as he trails the muzzle of the pistol up the side of Steve’s face, tracing his jaw, his temple, then settling behind his ear. ‘My boy went to train with them,’ he says, and it clicks abruptly what he’s talking about and no, this is bad, this is very, very bad, and Danny wishes he could see Steve’s face properly, that he would twitch, shift, do something to show he was awake and registering.
‘Hey, uh, my partner’s not looking too good,’ he says, hoping to bring the man’s attention onto them, trying to distract him with the here and now, rather than letting him get lost in the past. ‘Looks like he’s seen better days, in fact. How did you get him here, huh, you want to tell me that? Did you drug him, was that it?’
He gets a nod. ‘SEALs are strong. Fit. Like my son. It took a lot to knock this one out. And then he came to, right when we were inside that cave.’ The man grins. ‘So I left him awake, so he could see the water coming, could feel it. And he woulda died, because you didn’t come for him in time. So I rescued him. Saved him. I got him out of there.’
‘Why would you do that?’ Danny says. He needs to keep the man talking, needs to buy them some time. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong here, I’m glad you did, but-’
‘I couldn’t let him die.’ The man’s broad face crumples and he leans forward, pressing his face against Steve’s neck. Danny tightens his trigger finger reflexively, but the man only shakes his head, the gun never wavering from its position near the curve of Steve’s ear. ‘I wasn’t going to let that happen. Not after my boy.’
‘What happened to your boy?’ Danny hedges. He’s not liking the way the man’s mood is shifting, let alone the position of the gun, pressed up tight against Steve’s head. Through the screen door Steve is half-slumped against, his hands bound behind him, he can see Kono moving into position out in the yard, knows that she’s good enough to take the shot if needed, knows she won’t want to because of the recoil. Shoot the man and his finger could slip on the trigger, taking Steve in the head. So it’s up to him to get the gun pointing somewhere else.
'My boy went on a training exercise,’ the man continues, ignorant of Danny’s thoughts. He presses the gun harder against Steve’s skull, the tip of it becoming lost in the short length of his hair. ‘Went up in a plane. And he came down. Real quick.’
Danny forces himself not to blanch. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and he means it. He takes another step forward, keeping his gun trained on the man holding Steve, this time close enough to taste a faint whiff of alcohol on the air. ‘But that wasn’t my partner’s fault. So why don’t you hand him over to me, ok?’
‘I’ve gotta kill him.’
‘No, no, you don’t have to do that-’
‘He’s a SEAL-’
‘He’s retired, alright? He’s a cop now. He’s not a SEAL so you don’t have to kill him. Just drop the gun and let him go. You saved him once, yeah, now do it again.’
The man raises his head, blinks. ‘I can’t let him die.’
‘That’s right, you can’t. You’ve gotta protect him, like you would've done your son. I got a son too and I would give my life to save him and I’m talking in a heartbeat, just like I would for Steve. And see, I got a problem here, cause you’ve got a gun pressed against Steve’s head and I can’t let you hurt him, you getting me? So why don’t you put that thing down before either of us do something we’re gonna regret.’
As if on cue, Steve lets out a groan and Danny watches as the man’s face crumples even further. ‘I didn’t mean-’ he starts.
‘I know. But you gotta let me have Steve back, ok? So I can help him, like you did. And I’ll help you, you hearing me? Come on, use your head, you don’t want to do this.’
The man hesitates and in that instant Steve moves. His head jerks, driving back, then he rolls, a gun fires, the man’s fingers are loosening, then the gun has dropped to the floor and Danny’s darting forward and he’s grabbed Steve under the shoulders and is hauling him back and it’s not easy because Steve is a hundred and eighty pounds of hard-won muscle and Danny knows his knee isn’t going to forgive him for this anytime soon. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s got Steve and he’s out of risk, out of danger as Lou and Chin move in on the man, pinning him to the floor with his hands behind his back and kicking the gun away.
With one hand, Danny signals the all clear to Kono in the backyard, then he returns his attention to Steve, who is groaning in pain, head lolling forward over his chest as Danny grits his teeth and hauls him back even further, making space for the invading SWAT team swarming in from outside.
‘This is the last time,’ Danny tells Steve, grunting as he pulls him back through the doorway and into the kitchen, 'that I ever save your ass. You hearing me, Steven? No more, ever, that’s it. And I’ll you tell you why - you wanna know why? Cos there’s gonna be no more kidnapping. I’m sick of it. I’ve had my fill, you got that? Me and everyone else on this team of yours.’
Steve doesn’t respond, stubborn ass that he is, so Danny tugs him onto his side, reaches for a pulse and lets out a breath when he feels it beating under his fingers, even if it is a little too quick. When tapping at Steve’s cheek garners no response, he rubs his knuckles against Steve’s sternum, finally garnering a grumbled complaint. Satisfied, he kneels down and tugs away the t-shirt bound about Steve’s eyes, throwing it aside before pulling out his pocketknife and moving onto the zip-tie he finds at his wrists, snapping it free with a sharp pressure of the blade.
Steve groans as his arms fall loose, tries to curve into a ball, and Danny lets him, resting a hand along Steve’s waist as the other cards through dark hair, riffling the short strands, searching for the head wound he knows must be there. Glancing up, he sees Kono watching him, having come in from outside, her shoulders loose and easy. Chin is standing beside her, a smile creasing his expression and a grinning Lou brings up the rear, looking like nothing so much as a proud parent.
‘Yay team,’ he tells them. With his free hand, he pokes Steve in the shoulder, careful of the deep, reddish bruising he can see forming on top of one of his tattoos. He'd have to check that out later. ‘You hearing me, babe? We did good.’
Steve just groans again and Danny lets himself collapse back against the kitchen cupboards, briefly realising his knee is still screaming at him as two uniformed paramedics pile into the too-small room.
‘Service please, table one,’ he says, raising his hand, then lets it drop to the floor, exhausted.
----
With Grace finally crashed out on the couch, they grab a couple of Longboards and head out past the lanai to the deckchairs, taking up their usual spots and settling down, the quiet of the approaching dusk eased by the soft lull of the waves as they lap against the shore.
Danny lets his eyes trail over his partner. ‘Not a bad day,’ he comments, taking in the smooth bob of Steve’s throat as he takes a draw of his beer, watching him reach down to stash the bottle firmly in the sand, twisting it back and forth until it’s wedged upright.
‘Yeah.’ Steve apparently doesn’t feel the need to say anything else for he stays silent, staring out over the water as the lower tip of the reddening sun brushes the vastness of the golden horizon.
Danny plays with the label on his beer as he surreptitiously takes stock of the way Steve’s legs are stretched out, long and lean, bare heels nudging into the pale white sand still clinging to the warmth of the day. ‘You like being back?’ he says finally, needing to break the silence before he says something he’ll regret.
‘What, on Oahu?’
'No, in space, what do you think?'
Steve shrugs, relaxed and for once not willing to bite. ‘Yeah, man. I mean, it’s my home, you know?’ Leaning forwards to collect his beer, he tilts the neck of it towards the sea. ‘Besides, where else do you get sunsets like this?’
Danny nods slowly. ‘Hmmm,’ is all he lets himself say.
Steve glances at him. ‘What does that mean, hmmm?’
‘What do you mean, what does it mean? It means hmmm.’
‘You’re crazy.’
Letting go his beer bottle with one hand, Danny raises a finger. ‘No, my friend, I think you’ll find that you are the gun-toting maniac out of the two of us. And that makes you the crazy one.’
‘Says you.’
‘What are you, two?’
Steve grins at him, and it’s that grin, the one that’s loose and easy and makes Steve look like a decade has dropped off of him all in one moment. Danny can’t help but return it, and he lifts his bottle up to clink against Steve’s.
‘Thanks, babe,’ he tells him, and Steve raises a brow, a smile still playing about his face.
‘For what?’
‘For taking Grace and me out today. It’s not something she’s gonna forget, seeing those seals out there.’
Steve shakes his head. ‘Nah, man, it was fun. I had a good time. Besides, I’ll bet she’s going to get a killer mark on her project now, having seen the real thing.’
‘Uh-huh. And I’ll bet Steve the Seal will be a real help with that.’
Steve groans, rolls his eyes as he reaches down to grab the toy seal Danny had deposited earlier between the front legs of their deckchairs. ‘Hey, I didn’t choose the name, ok,’ he says, positioning it on his knees. ‘That was all Grace.’
‘You’re blaming my daughter for this travesty?’
'How is it my fault?'
‘Oh yeah, sure, you’re completely blameless. You just got her the thing.’
'Exactly,' Steve retorts and they are both grinning now, looking at each other like idiots, until finally Danny clears his throat and glances out to sea, at the sun now almost completely lost to it, just the tip still shining beyond the honeyed horizon.
‘I’ll tell you what, you got one thing right. That’s some sunset,’ he says, gesturing towards it.
Steve follows his gaze, nods. ‘Yeah.’
‘Do you think Steve the Seal likes it?'
‘Shut it, Danno.’
‘Why don’t you make me, Steven?’
And Steve leans over and kisses him, mouth still wet and tasting slightly of beer.
----
They end up at Tripler, crammed into Steve’s room with Danny pointedly averting his gaze as the nurse injects a needle into the IV stretching up from Steve’s bandaged forearm.
‘I don’t like needles,’ he tells Kono, where she is sprawled in a white plastic chair near the window, clad in a pale blue tank top and denim shorts as she watches the room with one cracked-open eye.
‘You’re not the one getting the injection,’ she says and he shrugs, a shiver going down his spine as the fluid traces slowly up the tubing before escaping swiftly into Steve’s arm.
‘Still.’ Reaching down from where he’s stood beside Steve’s bed, he brushes his fingers lightly over Steve's hand where it lies on top of the crisp white sheets, careful not to disturb the nearby needle as the nurse steps away, telling them the doctor will return in a couple of hours. Meanwhile, she tells them, looping a thick clipboard at the end of the bed, it is best they let the Commander sleep.
It’s fine with Danny and he levers himself down into the chair he claimed earlier, pulling it up tight to the bed and settling into it, stretching out his legs as best he can and bending forward to rub at his knee.
‘So.’ Perched on the end of the mattress, near to Steve’s blanketed feet, Chin glances round at them all, at Kono looking half-asleep in her chair then over at Lou by the door. ‘Quite a day, huh.’
‘Yep,’ Danny says idly, watching Steve’s chest as it rises and falls.
‘Did we find out any more about the guy?’ Kono asks.
Chin nods, holds up his phone. ‘Duke emailed me just a few minutes ago. The man’s name is Marc Patricks. Turns out he was ex-army, just as Sergeant Kalani said.’
'’m navy, Danny,' Steve mumbles, and Danny glances down, reaches out a hand to pat the top of Steve’s thigh.
'Quiet, you,' he orders and Steve subsides beneath his touch, slipping deeper into a healing sleep as Danny settles into his chair again. Lifting up a hand, he waves Chin on.
‘He was a colonel. Tried out for the elite forces a couple of times but never made it in. So he gave up on a military career, returned to Hawaii and became a security guard instead for a couple of big firms downtown. Met a girl, had a son, the marriage broke up and the kid ended up joining the SEALs. Trained at Annapolis, same as Steve, though a few years behind him.’ Chin skips through his phone with the pad of his finger, brings up a photo of a young man who looks unnervingly like Steve, from the short dark hair to the Hawaiian tan, spick and span in his trim uniform.
Unease prickles against Danny’s skin. ‘That the kid?’
‘Yeah,' says Chin soberly. ‘He was out on a training exercise, nothing special. His parachute failed to deploy fully, he landed badly and that was it.’
‘That’s horrible,’ says Kono, straightening in her chair.
Chin nods. ‘There was an inquest into his death, no one was found to be at fault. It was a freak accident, but his father never got over it.’
‘Who can blame him?’ comments Lou from where he’s leant against the doorjamb, fingers hooked in his belt.
‘HPD unearthed a few reports that were interesting. Apparently Patricks was reported several times hanging around outside Pearl-Hickman. He was arrested a couple of times too.’
‘And they just let him go?’ asked Kono.
‘He hadn’t done anything wrong really. Kept saying he wanted to be reminded of his son. And the base is well-protected, he stood no chance of getting past their security.’
‘So he went for a easier target,’ Danny finishes, gaze trailing back to Steve who shifts minutely, face tightening into a wince as the movement pulls on the patch of bandage covering a large swathe of his chest.
Lou snorts. 'I'm not sure I’d call Super Seal over there easy.’
‘That’s not what Danny says,' mutters Kono under her breath. Her cheeks dimple as Danny glares at her. 'It was too good to miss!' she protests, holding her hands up in innocence, and Danny settles back down with a muttered sigh.
‘As I was saying...’ continues Chin, raising an eyebrow at his cousin, ‘seems Patricks used chloroform on Steve.’
Off to the side, Lou lets out a low whistle and Chin nods in agreement.
‘Old-fashioned, but it’s effective enough. Crime lab found a bottle of it in the boat he used to get to and from the caves. Between that and the guy’s pistol, Steve didn’t stand much of a chance. Not against someone with a similar type of training.’ He pauses. ‘Patricks isn’t going to avoid jail time but he’ll hopefully get some treatment. His sister’s on the mainland, so they’ll transfer him to be near her. Get him some help, someone to talk to.’
'He needs it,' Lou retorts but holds up his hands as Chin and Kono cast him a look. ‘Hey, I’m not judging. I’m serious here. Man lost his kid. I can’t imagine what he and the mom went through.’
Steve mumbles something under his breath, stirring again under his crisp white blankets, and Danny sighs before getting to his feet and leaning over him.
‘Hey, babe? You awake in there? Cause you’re meant to be asleep. Doc's orders.’
Bleary eyes blink at him, once, then again, then Steve is shaking his head groggily and trying to push himself up on an elbow, only halting when Danny prods him back down with his pointer finger.
‘Danny?’ Steve coughs, clears his throat and tries again to rise, ignoring Danny’s insistent finger. ‘I’m ok, I’m- I’m awake.’ He clears his throat again roughly. ‘What happened? You guys alright?’
‘Are we alright?’ Danny repeats, incredulous, and he’s just aware of Kono jerking upright so fast her chair squeaks tetchily against the floor. ‘Uh oh,’ he hears her say, but he ignores her, his attention fully on Steve and his stupidly blinking eyes.
‘What happened, you ask? You nearly put yourself into a coma is what happened! What the hell were you thinking, headbutting the guy like that?’
‘Headbutting-’ starts Steve, brow furrowing, then his eyes clear and he shakes his head with a wince. ‘Wha- but, you said use your head-’
‘I was talking to the bad guy, Steven!’
‘We’re going to go,’ says Chin from beside the door. Lou and Kono are already hurriedly making their way past him and Danny waves a hand absently, ushering him and the others out.
‘We’re going to have a long talk, you and I,’ he says to Steve, and settles down in the hard plastic chair at his side.
----
'Should I knock?' asks Grace anxiously as she hovers on the doorstep, and coming up behind her Danny nudges her forward with a hand on her narrow shoulder.
'Should you knock?' he repeats. 'Of course you don’t knock! You want to surprise your Uncle Steve, don’t you?'
Grace nods and, reaching past her, Danny opens the unlocked door, allowing Grace to scurry in before him into the McGarrett house.
Uncle Steve!' Grace calls out, and there is a clink from the kitchen and Steve appears, mug of coffee in hand.
'Grace!' he exclaims through a mouthful of toast, and Grace runs to him, brandishing the rolled-up poster of her project in front of her.
'Look,' she says excitedly and she unfurls the poster with a flourish. 'I got an A minus!'
'An A minus!' Setting his mug down on the coffee table, Steve grabs her in a hug, picking her up by the waist and twirling her around as Danny shoves his hands in his pockets and watches, content.
‘This calls for pancakes,' declares Steve, when he finally sets Grace down. 'Danno, you in?'
Danny saunters over to him. 'Throw in some coffee and I’m there,' he says nonchalantly.
'Can I have some?' Grace asks, and Danny turns to eye her as Steve breaks into a grin.
'Can you have some?' he repeats. 'What, you think I want a hyped-up little eight-year old running round me all day?'
'Yeah!' Grace says, an excited grin on her face, and Danny sighs, turns to Steve and holds his hands up in supplication.
'See what I’m dealing with here? Only eight years old and she’s determined to get hooked on caffeine.’
'You can have a sip of mine, Gracie,' Steve says and Grace lets out a cheer, then goes running into the kitchen, presumably to start work on some pancakes.
Danny watches her go, then turns to Steve, who has bent down to retrieve his coffee mug from its perch on the table. ‘Look what you’ve done,' he accuses him. ‘You happy now?'
'Yep,' Steve says, and Danny realises he looks it, his grin broad and easy, his shoulders relaxed under his Navy SEAL t-shirt.
He sighs. 'Come here, you big lug,' he says, and Steve comes, pressing a kiss against his forehead as Danny slings his arms round his waist, looping his hands in the low hollow of Steve’s back.
'You are a menace,' he tells him, and Steve nods against him, tugging Danny closer until he lets out a soft curse.
'I'm not made of rubber, Steven,' he grumbles. 'If you squash me, I don’t bounce back.’
Steve snorts, soft and low, but loosens his grip before letting Danny tug him down with fingers tousled in the fine hair at the nape of his neck and accepting the light kiss that Danny presses against his lips.
'Go make me pancakes,' Danny orders him and Steve laughs against his mouth, pulling away.
'Now who’s the control freak, Danno?' he murmurs.
Danny holds up a finger, is about to use it to prod a warning, but before he can say anything there’s a loud clang from the kitchen, causing both he and Steve to wince.
'I'd better go rescue my frying pan,' Steve says, and with one last press of his lips he’s gone, disappearing through the doorway.
Danny watches after him, then bends down to collect the poster where Grace had deposited it on the couch. Unrolling it, he holds it up high, taking in the brightly coloured pictures, the meticulously looped writing, the photos from their day at Ka'ena Point and a small detail in the corner he had not noticed before - a painstaking if clumsy drawing of a man wearing some kind of apparatus that loosely resembles scuba gear. The drawing is carefully labelled ‘My Uncle Steve the Seal.’
A soft surge of warmth overtakes him, rising up from within, and he lets out a low bark of laughter.
'That’s my girl,' he murmurs, and follows Steve and his daughter into the kitchen.
END