A/N: The random works of watching 'The Backup Plan' and thinking about Steve's behavior around children. Beware angsty Steve. Also, please keep in mind, I did this at the crack of dawn without coffee…so it might be rough. If there are any mistakes, please let me know. Thank you! Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I have no ownership rights.

Keiki

Danny liked to think of himself as a man who lived by routine. Sure, sometimes his work life varied to the point of being held up by a team of ex-SEALs or being caught in the middle of a firefight between rival gangs, but he liked to keep a routine in his home life. In the morning, he liked to be up around the time the sun filled his room. Then, depending on whether or not he had Grace, he made breakfast (coffee with toast most days, pancakes or crepes with orange juice and chocolate milk when he had Grace). On weekends, he typically liked to laze about the house for a few hours, watch the news, catch up on his sports (the real kind, like baseball), then shower and plan activities for the rest of the day. On weekdays, he hurried through his shower and prepped himself for the rather high likelihood that he might get shot at some point. He may or may be caught praying on these mornings, but would refuse to own up to it if he did.

On Friday mornings, Danny sometimes held a little celebration for himself—making it this far through the week was a big accomplishment for him now. He made it a habit to slack about fifteen minutes in his normal schedule, knowing that McGarrett wouldn't complain if he was late because he always had a pretty legitimate excuse for being late (the shooting the day before…the near-fatal car accident…the chase in which his bum knee had protested in rather terrible, painful ways until they'd tackled the perp to the ground…the list went on several miles) and usually they were McGarrett's fault (he'd gone in without backup…he'd driven like a maniac…he'd spooked the perp into running…the list went on several miles).

So, his Friday mornings were usually enjoyable. He drank his coffee, caught up with ESPN, and took it easy.

He was in the middle of his second cup and cursing the Mets when his cell phone started singing Dr. Hook's "Sexy Eyes." Danny froze, lips slightly parted and tongue bitten firmly in his cheek at the mixture of shock, irritation, and sudden outrage that sprang over him. He only knew of one person who knew how much he hated that song. Same person who had told him plainly that he thought it was "catchy."

Same person Danny was thinking he might kill when he got to work. Except then he'd be sort of out of a job…

The song started playing again, and Danny cursed the consequences—thinking to himself that he'd find another job later. He grabbed the classifieds and began to peruse through them at the same time as he caught his cell phone and answered it. "What the hell is wrong with you? You think it's funny to torture your partner? You know you're driving me to forced early retirement," he said by way of a greeting.

Steve didn't miss a beat, and his voice was strangely impassive as he responded, "I thought you'd want to know that your ex-wife stopped by the office."

"Rachel came to the office?" Danny's brow knit as he leaned forward, tossing the newspaper aside.

"Yeah. There was apparently a teacher in service day at Grace's school. Rachel seems to have misunderstood my role in your life, as she has entrusted your daughter into my care until you arrive. She also said that you can thank her for the extra day later." The matter-of-fact tone took on an emotion that Danny couldn't identify at first. "I could drop her off with you, if you want. You can have the day off," Steve went on after the short pause, that strange tone still in his voice.

While Danny contemplated the somber tone he received from his partner, his mind came up with an automatic response. "What, and have my child traumatized by your lunatic driving?" he bantered teasingly. "No, thank you. I'll come get her. Is Chin there by any chance? Or maybe Kono?"

"Neither," Steve clipped off. "Sorry, your daughter's stuck with only me here to watch her."

Danny sighed. "Fine. No guns, knives, sharp objects, or anything remotely dangerous or you-related. I'll be there in ten minutes…" He glanced at his watch. He could make it in eight minutes if he drove like Steve.

"I'm fully capable of being a responsible adult until you get here, Danny." Steve's tone now held some irritation—a cover for something else. Danny cursed mentally and wished he could see Steve's face. The man was so much easier to read when Danny could look at the many odd faces he made.

"Yeah, you're the poster boy for perfect caregiving," Danny said as he left his apartment and climbed into the Camaro. "That's something I didn't know about you"

"Y'know what, Danno? There's a lot you don't know about me." There was now an edge to Steve's voice, and Danny raised an eyebrow. It just became obvious that his partner was having a bad day. He tried to think of a way to respond, but was met with the sound of Steve disconnecting the call.

Unsure of how to respond to the turbulence he'd just encountered in his partner, Danny could only drop his phone and speed the rest of the way to the office.

The scene when he arrived at the office wasn't exactly what he expected. They'd only had a few minutes together, but Steve and Grace seemed to be perfectly comfortable and were enjoying a game of hopscotch that Steve had rigged up with masking tape on the floor of his office. Danny paused for a moment, watching the smile on his partner's face and realizing that the corners of Steve's eyes were tight and lined with a tension he had sometimes glimpsed in the man before.

Grace had just hopped to the last squares and turned to giggle at something his partner had said when she spotted Danny in the main conference area. "Danno!" Grace squealed, rushing from Steve's office and hurdling herself at her father. Danny laughed as he caught her, swinging her up into his arms.

"Hi, Monkey!" He cradled her in his arms as she hugged him. "So you got the day off of school huh?"

"Yep! And Mom said I could stay with you today!" Grace responded. "C'mon Danno!" She hopped down from his arms, and tugged him by the hand into Steve's office. "Uncle Steve! Can we play again? I'd like to play with the dolphins at the beach or maybe..." And she was off, talking to Steve at a hundred miles an hour.

Danny examined his partner, noting that the strained look in his eyes was still present, and that tension had stiffened his posture. The SEAL crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against his desk, smiling at Grace and nodding along as he listened to everything she said. The slightly-furrowed brow, telltale sign of aneurysm face, belied his discomfort—inciting even more curiosity in the detective as he reaffirmed that he'd experienced this Steve McGarrett somewhere before, and tried to remember the circumstances.

Grace had finished giving Steve her prospective plans for the day, and now blinked expectantly at Danny. "Can Uncle Steve come play with us today, Danno?"

Before Danny could speak, Steve dropped to one knee, meeting Grace at eye level. "Gracie, I think you and Danno should spend some time together today. We can play more later this weekend. I've got a lot to do around here today."

Grace frowned, her brow puckered and her lips in a pout as she examined her Uncle Steve closely. After a moment, she leaned forward without warning, and threw her arms around Steve's shoulders in a hug. Steve's eyes went wide for a fraction of a second, then he hugged the child back briefly before she pulled away and gave him a wide grin. Her look grew stern then as she wagged a finger at him. "You're going to the beach together with me and Daddy sometime, though, okay?"

"Of course, Gracie." Steve smiled at her again, and patted her head. He glanced at Danny, but didn't hold his gaze, turning as he rose to his feet. "I'll see you later, Danny."

Danny opened his mouth to respond, then looked down to see Grace tugging on his hand again. "C'mon Danno, Uncle Steve has a lot of work to do," she said to him. Danny blinked at his daughter, then looked up to Steve.

"Yeah… Talk to you soon, Steve."

It wasn't until later in the evening, after filling the day with playtime at the park and snow cones and a batch of snickerdoodles, that Grace mentioned her favorite 'uncle' to her father.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, pumpkin?" Danny was focused on the three books his daughter had presented to him earlier for possible bedtime stories, and glanced up to see Grace shuffling her feet, staring at the ground meekly. He straightened, bracing his elbows against his knees and interlacing his fingers at the familiar sight. Grace had always been very keen, and sometimes when she wanted to ask him something she knew might be out-of-bounds for a child to ask her parent, she acted hesitantly toward whatever her question was. He waited her out patiently, smiling to encourage her when her dark eyes darted up to meet his.

"Why do you think I make Uncle Steve sad?"

Danny's mouth dropped open, and he blinked several times at his daughter as his lips worked but no sound escaped. After a long moment, he finally managed to spread one hand questioningly as he asked, "What makes you think you make Uncle Steve sad?"

Grace chewed the corners of her lips, looking almost contrite as she moved into the circle of her father's arm and let him lift her into his lap. She curled a finger against her lips thoughtfully as she looked up at him. "Every time I play with Uncle Steve, he looks like you did when Mommy married Stan and when we moved here. It makes me feel sad, and I think he's feeling sad too. I want to help him somehow. I'm worried about him."

Danny was silent as Grace's words fit like puzzle pieces with the observations that he'd made about his partner earlier. The strained look, the awkwardness, the disguised panic and caution—he'd seen them before, whenever Steve was around children. Danny couldn't believe that he didn't figure it out sooner. It was like Grace's observation had flicked on a light switch somewhere, and he was left dazed from the realization.

"Daddy?"

Danny was pulled from his thoughts by his daughter's gentle voice, and looked up at her with a slight smile as he drew her into a hug. "Don't worry about Uncle Steve," he murmured. "I don't think you make him sad. I don't think that's it at all."

"Will you talk to Uncle Steve?" Grace requested. "Will you help him, Danno?"

"Yes, baby." Danny kissed the crown of her head. "I'll try my best."

He didn't get the chance to talk to his partner about Grace until after he'd dropped her off with Rachel Sunday night. He called Steve, half-expecting Steve not to answer the phone, and was surprised to hear his partner's voice—gruffer than usual—on the second ring. "What is it, Danny?"

"You at home?" Danny asked, ignoring Steve's brusque tone.

There was a pause. Then, a hesitant, "Yes."

"I'm on my way over. Don't go pulling a ninja-SEAL vanishing act on me."

Another pause, shorter this time. "…Fine."

Danny reached his partner's house a short time later, and true to form, barged in unannounced, finding Steve in the makeshift office, sitting with his arms crossed at the desk and staring at a photograph on its smooth surface. Danny joined him silently, pulling a chair up to sit beside the SEAL.

After a moment, he broke the silence, "So when were you going to tell me?"

Steve exhaled a deep breath, and rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. "I wasn't. But I guess I kind of knew you'd figure it out eventually." He blinked his dark eyes open and looked toward the photograph again. Danny's glance followed his, and he nodded toward the photo with a question in his eyes. Steve picked it up wordlessly and handed it to Danny, who took it and examined the photograph through narrowed eyes.

The baby couldn't have been much more than a few days old. A purple-knit hat covered her tiny head, and her deep blue-violet eyes were open, looking at the camera as one tiny hand pressed against the clear plastic of the oxygen hood the baby lay in. At the bottom of the photo, in familiar boxed letters, were the words Alexa Rose McGarrett, January 5th 2002.

"She's beautiful, McGarrett," Danny murmured before handing the photograph back to his partner. He hesitated on the next question, unsure of how Steve would respond. "What happened?"

"She was eight weeks premature. Lungs were underdeveloped." Steve inhaled a deep, racking breath. "I got to hold her twice. Once, when she was first born. Then the last time, before they took her and refused to let us see her."

"Her mother?" Danny prompted, brows knitting.

"I met her during an op in Europe—one of the few times I was far enough away from the equator to see snow." Steve smiled faintly at the memory. "She was lost—she wandered right up to us without realizing who we were and where she was. It wasn't anything at first, but then…" He gave a half-shrug, spreading a hand to elaborate on something he couldn't quite put into words. "I brought her Stateside until the baby was born. But when Alexa…when we lost her…" He heaved a heavy sigh.

Danny stared at Steve in silent wonder. He couldn't imagine the pain of losing a child—couldn't picture his life without Grace in it. Absently, he reached for Steve's shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. He didn't know exactly what to say—apologizing to a grieving father seemed pointless, because who wanted to hear how sorry you were?

Instead, Danny settled on something he and Steve were more familiar with. "Grace still wants that play date."

Steve closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply again. When he looked up, he'd managed to restrain some of the stormy emotions Danny had been glimpsing in him the last few days. "Yeah—let me know." Then, to Danny's relief, Steve offered a slight smirk. "Maybe we'll get you into the water too."

Danny rolled his eyes, but smirked back. "Don't bet on it, Aquaman."