Life consists of rare, isolated moments of the greatest significance, and
of innumerably many intervals, during which at best the silhouettes of
those moments hover about us.
– Friedrich Nietzsche

This quote is one of my favorites. :) I think I like things slowed down, to get a chance to see what an entire day would reveal, if each moment had an opportunity to unfold. Admittedly, the prospect of writing fast-paced plots makes me nervous. Maybe I'll get to practice that soon, if you'll put up with me...! Thank you for reading and for your feedback! Your kind words give me the strength to overcome the scariness of putting this stuff out there. - Ari

[1000]

His hair was sticking out at all angles like a blond palm frond, his forehead was feeling the threat of a burn, and he was pretty sure there was the equivalent of a bucket of sand in his shoes. And yet, Danny Williams found himself strangely at peace and, he was almost willing to admit, even a little cheerful.

Steve had returned to the house earlier with an uninteresting report about the gunman. Best they could do was put in a description, he said, circulate the sketch through the network, and see if he turns up again. Danny responded that he hoped that it wouldn't be today. Then when Steve suggested taking them to spend the day down by the beach shops, Grace lit up so beautifully, Danny immediately agreed.

They parked in a crowded lot at the end of the boardwalk. Tourists milled about taking pictures of the water, the trees, the colors, the locals. They ducked and maneuvered around them. At Grace's insistence, they walked on the other side of the handrail and on the sand. She and his partner opted to go barefoot, stopping every now and then to squeeze the warm grains between their toes, laughing. Danny sunk with every step, making soft sandy peaks of his own as they made their way across the beach.

Eventually, they turned inland towards a less occupied row of shops. On the sidewalk, a young tanned woman set up some chairs, a sign advertising "Face Painting" and a cardboard display of various designs. Grace picked out a violet orchid for her right cheek and was trying to keep as still as a doll while the artist carefully painted in the delicate petals. Danny and Steve stood side by side a few feet away leaning on a cafe wall.

Somewhere music was playing from a radio, an old swing tune, and to his surprise and delight, it didn't sound at all incongruous. A light breeze blew steadily across his face, cool and refreshing, smelling faintly of spray and sun.

"This isn't bad," Danny confessed, just as much to himself as to his companion. "It's actually nice."

Steve broke out into a wide grin.

"Don't ruin it, McGarrett."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"Good."

"Except maybe I told you so."

Danny swiveled his shoulders towards him, palms up, ready with a retort. But his phone started going off with a telltale ring and he rushed to silence it. He darted a quick glance at Grace. The artist was holding up a mirror to which his daughter presented the side of her face with an giddy smile.

"I've got to get this," Danny mouthed to Steve, shaking the phone in the air as he started walking towards the surf shop next door. He motioned with his eyes towards Grace. Steve nodded.

Danny brought the phone to his ear once he got into the air-conditioned enclave.

"Daniel, you called," his ex-wife greeted warily.

"It's nothing. Never mind."

"Alright," she drew the word out. "How is Grace?"

"Oh Grace, Grace is fine. She's having fun. We're having lots of fun."

Danny craned his neck out the shop window. Grace was pushing her hair around her ears to expose her cheek but her eyes were distracted by an ice cream cart across the way. McGarrett stood next to her, hands on hips, looking around casually, as if he weren't a guard on duty. She tilted her flower-adorned face up to catch Steve's attention. The SEAL blinked down at her, beamed brightly, and went back to staring at passersby. Danny rolled his eyes.

"That's good," Rachel intoned. "She's not still sore over being grounded then. Her friend Elizabeth invited her to a party this afternoon and we told her she couldn't go."

Danny watched as Grace tapped Steve's arm, saying something. The man squatted down to the girl's level. Steve's lips were pursed, brows knit, completing a most serious expression, as he concentrated on her speech. Realization broke out on his face at last with an "ohhh" followed by an embarrassed smile. The man began digging through his pockets as he walked her to the ice cream cart.

Atta girl, Danny grinned to himself.

"Party, huh? Is Dylan going to be there?" he asked absently, back to the phone.

"Who?"

"Because if he's there, there is seriously no way she's going anyway."

"What? For goodness sake, is this about the bite? It's already been handled."

"No, you don't understand. I need find that kid's parents and tell them to lock their little animal up or at least get shots," he fired in a rush. "They have to do something about that beast. I'm not going to sit back and do nothing."

"Do nothing?" she echoed. "God, Danny, what kind of mother do you think I am?"

"I wasn't implying anything," he shot back. Then quieter, "Not exactly."

Though at the back of his mind, he lamented their uncanny way of getting into an argument within minutes.

"I understand that you would do anything for Grace," she went on, her voice raising. "The difference between you and me, Dan, is that I don't need to be the hero."

"This isn't about me, Rachel," his voice getting louder to match hers.

"Stanley spoke to the boy's father. He says Dylan's been acting out since they moved here a month ago. He's seeing a therapist," she stated each sentence slowly, as if Danny were a child. "And regardless of what the boy did, Grace still needs to learn that her own behavior was unacceptable."

"The kid has a shrink? What kind of eight year old needs a shrink?"

She sighed loudly. "The kind whose father is too tied up with his work to spend time with his family."

There was a split second of silence as they both realized what had been said.

"Danny, I didn't mean—," she covered hurriedly.

"Gee, Rachel, if you're so concerned about Grace's relationship with her father," he took the phone from his ear to yell at it directly. "Maybe you shouldn't have taken her five thousand miles away from me! You ever think about how that would work out?"

"Danny, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. We were talking about Dylan's dad. I'm just repeating what he said."

He shook his head, breathing hard through his nose. Over by the ice cream cart, Grace was saying something to Steve who listened with a silly smile plastered on his face. Danny shut his eyes, remembering his daughter's anguished plea for her parents not to fight.

"Danny, really, I didn't mean that about you."

"Okay," he exhaled, resigned.

"Okay?" Surprise.

"Yeah. Okay. I don't want us to argue anymore." It came out wistful and sad.

He heard rather than saw her nod. Then gentler she spoke, "She looks up to you, you know. Grace adores you. You're a good father. You don't need to prove it all the time."

Danny smiled wryly at that, knowing it must not have been easy for his ex-wife to share. "Thanks."

Afterwards, he stood in that shop between a postcard rack and a stand of leis, watching his partner and daughter still engrossed in a one-way conversation over matching ice cream cones, as he reevaluated his relationship with Rachel. The call followed their usual pattern, but it ended on a somewhat neutral tone this time, a good start.

When he returned, both Steve and Grace looked up simultaneously at his approach.

"Everything okay?" Steve asked.

Danny smoothed his daughter's hair as she devoured her ice cream and nodded. "Yeah everything's good."

"Good," Steve replied, turning back to survey the view.

Danny smiled down at Grace. "Can I have a taste of that?"

Steve's hand automatically swung out, tilting a chocolate ice cream cone towards him.

"Not you! Geez, McGarrett." Danny's head jerked back and he stuck his hands up in mock protection.

To which his partner look back and shrugged, smirking, "Suit yourself."

They stood there for some time, Danny, his girl and his friend, enjoying their treats and stories, as the Saturday morning crowds parted around them like water. Just beyond, the island's brilliant blue waves crashed softly upon the shore.