Steve stared at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't quite recognize the face staring back at him, and the dissociation was unsettling. Shaving would help, of course, the scruff was way beyond the usual five o'clock shadow or even weekend stubble that he'd learned to enjoy tolerating since being liberated from full time Navy service. It was the guilt in his eyes that was foreign and unwelcome. He'd made it a point to live his life, as much as possible, with a clear conscience and no regrets. And he'd succeeded, mostly, unfinished conversations with his father and a sense that he should have - somehow - done more for Mary notwithstanding.

But Danny . . . no, when it came to Danny there was no such thing as a clear conscience. Danny's eyes, meeting his, in the rear view mirror, when he'd said that things didn't work out with Rachel, because the kid wasn't his . . . Steve knew it for what it was, knew Danny was leaving out the part where maybe, just maybe, if he'd left that night, left Hawaii and gone the hell back to New Jersey with Rachel, maybe it would have still worked out. And Danny had tried to hide it, but Steve had seen the regret in his blue, blue eyes.

Danny was waiting downstairs for him now, fussing about . . . no wife and family to take care of, he'd take care of Steve, there was no question about that. Steve had never once had to question that, and he'd been selfish, selfish enough to let Danny stay. Tonight, sure, and also the night that he'd -stupid, what was he thinking - broken into the governor's mansion. Selfish enough to let Danny visit him in Halawa. Selfish enough not to quite hide all of the bruises and dark circles and . . . Danny had known, he would have known even without Steve letting him see, that despite the guards' best efforts they couldn't be everywhere, all the time, and more than once Steve had resorted to defending himself. Carefully, so as not to inflict any lasting damage. Just enough to stay in one piece, until Victor Hesse had -

He winced, he'd lost his concentration and forgotten to keep his arm away from his side. Shave. He'd shave, that would at least buy him some time before he had to face Danny. Danny, who'd given up everything for his sorry ass, the best friend he'd had, ever, other than Freddie, and no, absolutely not, he steadfastly refused to let his mind go there. DADT and Catherine and Rachel and just no, best not to dwell on all the reasons he could never have . . . Freddie's friendship had been enough, and Danny's friendship would be enough, it would have to be, and it was more than he deserved, and he was desperately, achingly thankful for it.

It took a long time, and two razors, and while the face looking back at him was marginally more recognizable, the eyes were still haunted. Steve knew, knew that it was guilt, and knew that he'd never hide it from Danny and his uncanny perception. He hoped that maybe Danny would just chalk it up to the trauma of a law enforcement officer incarcerated and leave it alone.

He squared his shoulders and tried to replace the bandage on his side. Max would have had a fit over him taking a shower, but he'd changed enough dressings, he knew how to minimize the damage and it didn't matter. It might scar a little more, whatever. If he couldn't swim, he absolutely had to shower, and yes, he was aware of the running water as a metaphor.

"Yo, Steve, food's getting cold," Danny's voice came up from the kitchen. He closed his eyes, pain and fatigue making him uncharacteristically self-indulgent, and let himself imagine Danny in the kitchen, as a matter of routine, after a tough case. It hit him like a punch to his already abused gut.

"Pull it together, McGarrett," he told himself sternly, and headed down the stairs.

#*#*#*#*#

It hadn't been a choice, not really, not when it came right down to it. Danny had called Rachel, begged her to understand, to explain to Grace, but he knew it in her voice. His second chance, his one and only second chance, was shot to hell as sure as a bullet had ripped through the governor.

When Rachel told him that the baby was Stan's, he alternated between disappointment and guilt. Disappointment because maybe it would have made a difference, after all. Guilt because he knew what his affair with Rachel had been about, really, seeking comfort in the familiar when he was completely and utterly blindsided by . . . the unfamiliar. The slowly dawning realization that what he had thought for so long was exasperated fondness for his friend and partner - and boss, thank you - was, in fact, an affection that went soul deep. When he'd realized that his constant complaining about Steve's propensity for shirtlessness was an awkward cover for attraction - for lust, he's wrapped his brain around it, finally - he'd bedded Rachel again at the coincidentally available opportunity.

He didn't deserve another child, not when he'd used Rachel to try to avoid his very inappropriate feelings for his very straight, Navy SEAL, explosion loving boss. Friend. Partner. Whoa, don't go there.. So, yeah, sue him, he was relieved that the kid wasn't his, not for the reasons anyone would think, and it was so complicated it made his head hurt.

No, he didn't deserve another child, and when it came down to it, he didn't deserve Steve, not if his reaction to this new reality was to dive in bed with someone else. He still had his regular visitation of his Monkey, thank God, and he still had a newly congenial relationship with Rachel, and he still had - no thanks to the population of Halawa or Victor Hesse or WoFat - Steve. His boss. Friend..

"It's enough, it has to be enough," Danny told himself firmly, as he stirred some spices into the can of tomato soup he'd rummaged out of Steve's pantry.

"What's enough, Danny?" Steve said quietly, padding into the kitchen.

Danny burned his thumb on the saucepan and cursed.

"Soup, the soup is enough," Danny said, "if I make you a grilled cheese sandwich to go with it." He rummaged in the refrigerator, hiding, willing the coolness to calm his flushed skin, long after he realized there was no cheese.

"There's no cheese," Steve said, finally. "It's okay, Danny, I don't need it. Go on, you have to be exhausted. I'm okay."

Leave, please leave, because I don't think I'm going to hold it together much longer, he added silently.

Danny slammed the refrigerator shut with more force than was strictly necessary, and Steve winced at the sound. Still, Danny couldn't bring himself to turn around, so he opened the refrigerator again, carefully, and pulled out two Longboards.

"You take any narcotics for that?" he asked, turning, and his voice was raspy. He gestured at Steve's side, still not meeting his eyes.

"No, I'm good," Steve said, wanting a beer, hell, a six pack of beers, and knowing it was the worst idea ever because his control was already bordering on FUBAR. Still, he grabbed the beer out of Danny's hand, flipped off the top, and took a few long pulls.

Danny pointedly reached into the drawer and pulled out the bottle opener, opened his, and guzzled half of it in one go. Steve felt his eyebrows raise. He'd be obligated, now, as a matter of safety, to offer for Danny to stay, and that was just the problem, wasn't it? Danny, staying.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I'm sorry that you lost your chance with Rachel because you stayed. Because of me."

Danny shrugged and pulled two more bottles out of the refrigerator, placing them on the island. He rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned another button on his shirt.

"It wasn't meant to be," he said. "The baby isn't mine. Just as well I didn't find out after I'd given up my job here and moved back to New Jersey."

Given up his job, Steve repeated back to himself. Emphasis on job. Suddenly the kitchen was suffocating. Steve grabbed the second unopened bottle and headed outside. Danny could follow or not follow, he wasn't sure which he wanted, but he had to get out. He staggered to the chairs out back and collapsed. Sure enough, Danny's measured footfalls weren't too far behind, and in a moment Danny settled in the chair next to him.

"Y'okay?" Danny asked quietly. He'd apparently taken time to open his second bottle inside, and he took a sip, a slow, reasonable, measured sip this time.

"Yeah," and now it was Steve's voice that was raspy. "Needed to get . . . out. Sorry."

Danny shook his head. "Don't. Don't apologize, it . . . God, Steve, you were in prison. Prison. I can't . . . "

"You were there for me, though, Danny," Steve said, quietly. "Every day. It meant a lot."

"Well, yeah, I mean . . . where else was I gonna go?" Danny said wryly.

"Back to New Jersey," Steve said, staring at the water. "Back to a family, a normal life."

"I told you -"

"Yeah, but it might have . . . Danny, you stayed. You gave up the chance to even find out. For me. I don't know how you'll forgive me for that," Steve said.

"It's not - I thought I get around it. I thought I could make myself want my old life more than I wanted -" Danny broke off.

It broke over Steve like a wave. All the little touches, all the little glances, all the bitching about him taking off his shirt. Every single visit, every day, at Halawa. The constant, unwavering presence, the solid here-and-now-ness of him . . .

"Danny," Steve said, and it came out strangled, and desperate, and Danny shot him a sharp look.

"Babe? You okay?"

"Danny," Steve said again, turning sideways in his chair, mindless of the pull against his stitches. "Danny, what do you want?"

Danny's head tilted, and he looked at Steve, his blue eyes turning wistful and inscrutable.

"Mostly the things I can't have, apparently," Danny said.

"All this time," Steve said, "all this time, I thought it was only me. I thought I was the only one in this."

Danny felt it, that moment when the pieces just fit, like he felt when he solved a case. When all the clues lined up and suddenly, it was so obvious. And of course, because Steve was an emotionally stunted Neanderthal, it was classic pigtail pulling, driving his car, calling him Danno, getting him hurt and then freaking out completely. Whipping off his shirt because God forbid anyone in Steve's past had ever let him think he was enough, had ever told him that his soul was beautiful, so he offered up his body. And yes, Danny had taken many psychology courses on his way to detective.

"This - what 'this'?" Danny said, standing up, gesturing wildly. "You're gonna hafta say it, Steven, because I have been through hell and back here, and I can't take obfuscation and innuendo, not now, not with this. Whatever 'this' is."

"This, Danny," Steve said, standing up as well, crowding into Danny's personal space, towering over him, testing a theory. "Us. This thing between us." He cupped a hand around Danny's face, and Danny fisted a hand in his tshirt, carefully, of course, and on his uninjured side because that was so Danny, always careful, always looking out for him. He looked down at Danny, saw his pupils dilate, felt his breath hitch, and yeah, theory proven, except -

Danny pulled away abruptly and Steve felt his heart stutter and then Danny said he had to call Rachel and Steve felt his heart stop. Just, dead stop.

He'd put it out there, Danny had made him, and -

"Steve," Danny said, his blue eyes soft and fond, and he had a thumb on Steve's jaw, pulling his face down and he was saying something that Steve couldn't hear, at first, over the rushing of blood in his ears and it was . . . "Steve. I was horrible to Rachel. I used her, I . . . she was willing, believe me, it was consensual but - I was so confused, I didn't understand and . . . you have to understand, babe, I can't - I can't, not until I've apologized to her. And she's the mother of my child, Steve, and there's nothing, there's no part of my life that doesn't affect Gracie and -"

"I love Gracie, too," Steve said, only he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

Danny Williams was speechless and if Steve wasn't busy trying to get his heart to get out of his throat, out of his gut, and beat normally, he might have felt smug about that.

"Too," Danny said, faintly, and Steve did not feel smug.

"Yeah," he said. "I love Gracie, too."

"Like, I love Gracie, and you love her also," Danny said.

"That too," Steve nodded.

"I -" it was too much, Danny decided, "hold that thought. Please? And . . . and don't move. I am going to talk to Rachel, because the guilt is already eating me up - consuming me, as it were - and I can't add more to that. But I am going to talk to her," he pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up to Steve, "on the phone. I am not leaving. And I will be right back. Don't move."

Steve nodded and collapsed back into his chair. Danny, no one but Danny, saw through his bullshit and understood the depths of his abandonment issues. Danny, who was still studying him thoughtfully, because Danny also understood his instinct to leave before he could be left. Again.

"You're not going to, I dunno, paddle to Fiji?" Danny asked.

"It's not Point Break," Steve said absently, and Danny laughed, and they looked at each other and -

"Hunh", they said, in unison, and Danny smirked, and Steve smirked, and they each felt some of the unbearable tension in them unfurl, just a bit, and there was a sense that somehow, everything was, in fact, going to be okay.

"Okay, I'm gonna -" Danny gestured back toward the house and headed that way, dialing as he walked.

Steve stared out over the water again, the sound of Danny's voice washing over him and his thoughts swirling wildly. He finally resorted to combat breathing, not that he would admit it, ever.

Danny was back, collapsing in the chair next to him. Steve was afraid to ask, afraid to look, afraid to breathe.

"Danny?" he managed to ask, but without looking and without breathing.

"Well," Danny said, clearing his throat. His voice sounded normal and Steve thought maybe that was a good sign. "She laughed at me, I'll have you know. And then there were a lot of words like, 'latent' and 'oblivious' and 'about bloody time'. And then she assured me that our fling was about . . . well, she missed the fire and chemistry, she didn't really have that so much with Stan, but Stan was about security and normalcy, and she sure as hell never had that with me, and that's what she wants. She absolved me of all guilt in the situation. Which is typically narcissistic of her, but there you have it."

"Oh, that's . . . good?" Steve said. He wasn't sure that there was good news for him in all of that, but it didn't sound like Danny would be going back to Rachel.

"That's good, yes," Danny said patiently, "I can move on with a clear conscience."

"Oh," Steve said. That sounded good for him, he was pretty sure.

"And apparently my precocious daughter has been a step ahead of us all this time, so this," and he gestured between the two of them, "is not going to be an issue."

"Oh," Steve said again. "That's good." It did not escape him that he'd not managed more than those three words in a considerable amount of time.

"She told her mother, at the airport, that Danno would always choose her, always, but that the next person he would choose, over anyone, would be Steve. Told Rachel not to be sad, she had StepStan - we hadn't told Gracie, she had no idea that we . . . she didn't know. And that Danno had Steve. So everyone has someone, and no one needs to be sad," Danny said. "My little girl. She knew, Steven, she knew, before we got our heads out of our asses that . . . we were together. That we belonged together."

"Together," Steve repeated, and his heart settled back into place, back into rhythm at the word.

"Yeah, you goof," Danny said, looking at Steve, his face open and full of fond exasperation. "Together. I have my daughter's blessing and her mother's approval, so there's absolutely nothing standing in my way. You got any reason you can't be with me?"

Steve stared at Danny.

"No," Steve said, his voice full of wonder. "I'm - Danny, I'm still in the Navy."

"I know, babe, but DADT has been repealed, remember?" Danny said.

"I can still be in the Navy, and I can - " Steve stopped, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yeah," Danny said.

"I've never . . ." Steve chuckled. "Danny, I have no idea what the hell I'm doing."

Danny's blue eyes crinkled as he smiled at Steve. "Babe. In case you haven't noticed, that seems to be how we operate best."

And Steve laughed at that, his face lit up and open, and Danny wanted to remember it forever, that laugh, that smile, right alongside Gracie's first laugh.

"Danny?" Steve said, standing up, wincing. The pain and fatigue and hell of the last couple months was rapidly catching up with him. "I'm about to crash, partner. But can . . . I don't want you to . . . can -"

"Hey," Danny said, and his hands were on Steve's elbow, his waist, steadying him. "I'm staying. I'm staying."

"Yeah," Steve said, leaning on Danny as they made their way back to the house.

#*#*#*#*#