Rating: R for language and non-explicit sexual content.

Warnings: references to chronic pain, combat injuries and deaths, and psychological trauma (including a PTSD flashback).

Spoilers: none – it's an AU where the only character who works in law enforcement is Danny.

Author's notes: this story started back in October as a little comment!fic over on LJ, and wound up being about 25,000 words long. This is the significantly revised and expanded version.

Mamo's Books and Music, established 1968.
Proprietors: S. McGarrett & C.H. Kelly.

A customer approaches the desk where Steve's pricing newly-arrived paperbacks. Steve looks up and says, "Yes, sir, can I help you?"

"Hey, man," the young guy says, "you got any Romeo and Juliet?"

Steve has been working in retail nearly ten years now, so he can maintain a professional demeanor in the face of idiocy far worse than this.

Smiling politely, he asks, "Do you mean the original play by Shakespeare? If so, would you like it in book, audiobook, or DVD form? There are also several dozen film, opera, and ballet interpretations to choose from."

The customer blinks at Steve. "Oh, uhh...the play, in a book. Yeah. I think."

"Right. Follow me, please," Steve says, and leads the way over to the Shakespeare shelf.

A couple more questions reveal that the guy's crushing on a theater major in his dorm, and is trying to impress her. Steve hands him a basic annotated edition, then convinces him that actually watching a staged version of the play would be even more useful than reading it. The customer walks out the door a few minutes later, clutching a cheap paperback and an expensive DVD.

As Steve slowly limps back to his desk, Chin looks up and grins. He's in the children's music section, trying to undo the chaos wrought by Mrs. Johnson's little hellions.

"Nice upselling, brah."

"Yeah, but I bet that girl will totally see through him," Kono adds as she picks up the pile of DVDs to go upstairs.

Steve shrugs. "Good thing we don't accept romantic wipe-outs as sufficient cause for a refund." He sits down again with a wince, and rubs his right knee – the increased aching suggests there'll be a storm soon.

He unlocks the desk drawer where he keeps his prescription meds, and glances around as he swallows one pill. It's pretty quiet this afternoon, after the usual influx of shoppers on their lunch break, so the spaced-out feeling his painkillers always produce shouldn't be too problematic.

In Steve's part of the store, Mrs. Keawe is amassing an impressive pile of books for her grandchildren and Dr. Suzuki is browsing the new biographies. A dreadlocked surfer is sprawled in an armchair, leafing through a coffee-table tome about Renaissance art. Two middle-aged German tourists are looking at illustrated souvenirs of Hawaii.

Nobody seems to need his help just now, so Steve reaches for his pricing gun again. It's a far cry from the weapons he used to wield, but he likes the feel of it in his hand.

Over in the music section, old Mr. Anderson is comparing multiple versions of Porgy and Bess at the listening station. He calls out a question to Chin, his voice too loud – it's a mistake most people make while using the headphones. Nearby, two jazz students are arguing about which Thelonious Monk album to buy.

Still, it's peaceful compared to earlier, when those three preschoolers had run around singing Wiggles songs in wild disharmony. Even super-tolerant Chin had cracked, politely asking Mrs. Johnson to keep them under control. She had then stormed out, kids in tow. Steve's just grateful she didn't park them in the children's literature corner while she continued browsing...those shelves are untidy enough as it is. He'll head over that way once his knee's throbbing a little less.

Chin answers the phone at the music desk, and rolls his eyes at Steve: ah, it must be Mrs. Santos. She calls twice a week from her retirement village over on Maui, and she just adores Chin.

Today the elderly lady is after a recording of La Traviata, apparently. Chin goes to the opera section, pulls down half a dozen versions, and patiently reads out the cast listings to her. Then he opens the Penguin Guide to check which ones get the top ratings.

Once Mrs. Santos finally chooses the rosette-winning Gheorghiu/Solti recording, Chin charges it to her credit card and packages the album up ready for the UPS guy. The whole process takes about ten minutes, but he remains calm and friendly throughout. The man really is a saint, as well as a brilliant salesman, and Steve would be lost without him.

With Chin's phone call over at last, Steve can eavesdrop on a much more interesting conversation happening up on the mezzanine floor. Kamekona's café is in its post-lunch lull, except for a group of teaching assistants from the University of Hawaii's history department. Their weekly off-campus meeting tends to consist of drinking coffee and ranting about undergrads.

They used to complain about faculty members too, until they learned two vital facts: many UH professors frequent this store, and sound carries really well in here.

One of the TAs is now panning a new film which claims the Earl of Oxford wrote Shakespeare's plays. Steve grins as he listens. His mother, head of English at Kukui High for the past 15 years, refuses to give anti-Stratfordian theories more than a passing mention in her classes. So she's spitting mad that high school English departments have been sent lesson plans based on this movie, encouraging students to question Shakespeare's 'true identity'.

Last week, she wrote a scathing reply to the production company responsible. Reading the email over her shoulder, Steve had choked with appreciative laughter. God, his mom can use words the way SEALs can use knives.

His pricing done, Steve leans back in his chair and stretches his leg out. He can hear Kono walking around upstairs, chatting cheerfully with a customer as she shelves DVDs. Though she's still pretty new to the retail business – they hired her after she graduated from film school last year – Kono just has a natural way with people.

Her ambition lies elsewhere, of course, but it's tough to break into the movie industry when you live in Hawaii and can't bear to leave. So Kono works here four days a week, in her dual roles as DVD department head and website wrangler. In her free time, she makes short films that show she's got serious talent. Everyone in her extended family seems to be creatively gifted, in one way or another.

Up on the mezzanine, Toast calls out to Kono. "Howzit, Spielberg. Just made Steve's afternoon coffee...you want something? I'm working on this new blend I think you'll love."

Ever since Kamekona hired him a few months back, Toast has been trying to design the perfect drink for Kono. Steve figures it must be the barista version of flirting. But it's a pretty hopeless crush, seeing as she's both gay and taken. Jenna, her computer genius girlfriend, designed the store's website and does awesome special effects for Kono's films.

Kono doesn't seem to mind Toast's attentions, though, so Steve hasn't said anything. And while Chin has strong protective instincts, he's learned the hard way not to interfere in his cousin's love life.

"I'm good for now, brah," Kono tells Toast, "but I'll take Steve's down to him."

Steve licks his lips in anticipation when he hears this. Toast makes the best coffee he's ever tasted, despite – or maybe because of – being a total stoner. He got the nickname because toasted PB&J sandwiches are his favorite munchies snack, or so he informed Steve on his first day working here. Toast delivers a caffeine fix to Steve twice daily, and it's like the nectar of the gods descending from on high.

Kono comes back downstairs, gives Steve his coffee, and gestures for Chin to join them at Steve's desk.

"Seriously, guys, I need more space for the DVDs," Kono says quietly. "I could barely squeeze in the new movies. I had to put some boxsets on the floor, propped up against the lowest shelf. It doesn't look good."

"I can't manage the stairs today," Steve says, warming his hands on the cup. He always feels colder when the pain gets worse. "Can you show me?"

Kono makes a quick trip to her domain above, and comes back holding out her phone. Steve raises his eyebrows as he looks at the photos she snapped. She wasn't kidding: the DVD section is definitely at maximum capacity.

"I know it's tight, but there's just not enough floor space for another fixed shelving unit," Chin says, frowning.

"What about a rotating display rack?" Steve suggests. "We've never used them before, because they usually have the cases sitting face-out. But there's a spine-out DVD rack in the latest catalogue, designed for easy browsing."

Kono looks thoughtful. "Yeah, I guess that could work...maybe for the documentaries? It'd be good to separate them out from the alphabetical run of movies."

"Sounds like a plan," Chin says. "And I'll weed the world music section, cuz, to try and give you another bay of flat shelves up there as well. There's some older stuff that can go straight into the sale bins – it's just not moving at full price."

"Hey, who knew Mongolian throat singing would be such a brief fad?" Kono says, deadpan, as she sits down to check for new online orders. Steve grins, because there really is some obscure shit in that section. Even Chin cracks a rueful smile as he heads back to his desk.

Chin has been reluctant to cede precious shelf space to Kono's ever-expanding collection, but he just can't argue with the numbers. The DVDs are moving faster than the CDs, these days, and there's a better profit margin on them too.

The balance of the store's business is shifting, Steve reflects as he sips his coffee. Book sales are mostly holding okay, but fewer CDs are selling now than even a year ago. People who love their specialty genres are generally too fussy about audio quality to download albums, legally or otherwise. But websites like Amazon are putting a dent in demand, despite the steep fees charged for shipping to Hawaii, and chains like Walmart are selling heavily-discounted popular classics and crossover CDs.

Steve and Chin would go broke if they even tried to compete on price, online or offline. The 15% discount for the education sector more than pays for itself, though. Hawaii's libraries and schools still mostly order their classical and jazz CDs through Chin, and being located near UH's conservatory ensures a steady stream of music faculty and students.

And many other customers have stayed amazingly loyal, willing to pay a little more at a store where the staff know them by name, ask after their families, and tailor recommendations to their tastes. Some of the older folks have even been shopping here since Mamo Kahike opened the store, 43 years ago.

Back in 1968, the LP was king, the Walkman would have seemed impossibly futuristic, and the inventor of the MP3 probably hadn't been born yet. So much has changed over that time...Mamo himself has been gone for five years, now. But his store lives on, still named in his honor, and still offering the state's best classical and jazz selection.

Mrs. Keawe dumps a big pile of picture books on the counter, abruptly halting Steve's meandering train of thought – the pain pill must be kicking in already. Steve greets her with a smile, and they chat about her kids and grandkids as he scans her items.

She's eagerly awaiting the birth of her daughter Melissa's third child, due in February. Melissa went to middle school with Steve, and was generally considered the prettiest girl in their grade. Realizing that he found her twin brother Michael far more attractive was a major turning point for 12-year-old Steve, but that's not something he's ever told Mrs. Keawe.

Now that his medication has taken effect, standing up is bad but not agonizing. Steve grabs the cane propped against the desk, loads up his shelving cart, and limps out to patrol his territory.

He slowly moves between the shelves and tables, slotting the new books into place, tidying existing stock, putting appealing covers face-out, and noting which titles will need re-ordering soon. Steve likes being in control of this space; he likes being the person who connects publishers' supply to readers' demand.

This routine is one of the best parts of Steve's day, and something he's loath to miss even when every step hurts.

He greets the regulars he passes, and makes brief eye contact with the casuals. Chin and Steve's policy is to only start talking to customers who look like they want to be interrupted. It's a relaxed approach that distinguishes Mamo's from most chain bookstores.

The two tourists ask Steve's advice about pictorial books on Hawaii. It's just as well their English is good, because his German is minimal. Steve spent two weeks in Germany, once, but only saw the inside of a military hospital staffed by Americans. He was in no fit state at the time to go out and chat with the locals, anyway. Even when conscious, he could barely move or speak.

As usual, Steve saves his favorite corner of the store for last: children's literature. The picture books are in a mess...as much as he likes Mrs. Keawe, she's a very untidy shopper. So Steve sits on the carpet, his right leg outstretched, and starts re-imposing order.

With his hands following a simple, automatic routine, his mind is free to wander again.

It really is strange how his life has come full circle. His mother had regularly brought Steve to Mamo's when he was little, setting him down in this exact same spot to browse the kids' books as she shopped. To reward his patience, she'd buy him one book per visit.

Steve has such clear memories of sitting here, overwhelmed by choice, while Mamo showed Mom some new paperback or classical album she might enjoy. Just like at home, great books and beautiful music were intertwined in this place.

He loved the way Mamo treated him – always listening seriously, like Steve had valid opinions despite being so young. It was more attention than he got from his father, at the time, and he'd soaked it up. Mom introduced Steve to great literature as he grew older, but Mamo encouraged him to read about science and history and Hawaiian culture. He even gave 14-year-old Steve his first job, tidying the stockroom Saturday afternoons.

Mom was effectively a single parent for much of Steve's childhood, with her husband at sea for months on end. But Dad took a base job at Pearl when Steve was 15, and then tried to make up for lost time. Steve had increasingly striven to please his father, playing football and joining the Sea Cadets. Eventually, he'd followed Dad into the Navy.

In 2002, Steve had come home with a permanently busted leg, a shrapnel-scarred chest, a head full of fucked-up memories, and no clue what to do next.

Dad had been killed a year earlier, hit by a drunk driver while crossing the street one night. It was a stupid and senseless death, after a lifetime of serving his country. But at least Dad never saw what a mess his beloved Navy had made of his only son.

When Steve was in the rehab unit at Tripler, learning to walk again on his mostly artificial right knee, Mamo used to visit every Sunday and bring him reading material. And once Steve was close to being released from hospital, Mamo offered him an assistant's position in the book department.

Selling books had never been an ambition of Steve's, God knows. But with everything he'd lost by then, the chance to return to that familiar, comforting environment was too tempting to pass up. It helped that all the books were on the first floor, the store had flat access, and that Mamo volunteered to make other modifications to suit Steve's needs.

Retail was one hell of a change from the military, and it took Steve time to adapt. In some respects, though, it's surprisingly similar. There are routines that have to be performed, without fail, to ensure the smooth running of the operation: cleaning, ordering supplies, securing the perimeter, and endless goddamn paperwork.

Then there's the way long periods of steady toil are interspersed with bursts of intense action. Some battles can be planned for, like Christmas or the store's regular half-price sales. Others flare up without warning, like Oprah reviewing a book that's out of stock or Pavarotti dying and sparking a run on his back catalogue.

And Steve still calls men 'Sir', even if they're younger and dumber than him, because customers – like superior officers – must be kept happy at all costs. Whether they're always right is another matter entirely.

The store runs on teamwork, much as the Navy did. But Steve's colleagues hadn't fought and suffered beside him like his old buddies did, so it took a while for him to lower his defenses and trust them.

Steve already knew and loved Mamo, so working with him was a reassuring source of continuity in those uncertain early days. Though he accommodated Steve's limitations, Mamo never pitied him for them. His matter-of-fact approach helped ease the abrupt transition from 'soldier with a chest full of medals' to 'civilian with a cane'.

In a funny way, Mamo's store manager helped with that too. Patricia Jameson strongly reminded Steve of his team's commanding officer, so following her orders was instinctive. Steve even called her 'Ma'am' to start with, but she insisted that she was 'just Pat'.

Pat was charming to customers – she could sell anything to anyone – but had a brisk, no-nonsense manner with everyone else. She had a better head for finance and bureaucracy than Mamo did, and drilled Steve in proper accounting methods. If Steve's any good at running a business, it's thanks to Pat as much as to Mamo.

Steve hears someone call his name and looks up from the picture books, blinking. Chin says, "Sorry, I need to borrow the shelving cart. Just got a whole lot of new Christmas CDs to put out."

"Man, already? It's only October." Steve rolls the empty cart towards him.

Chin shrugs. "Christmas creep, I guess. When it starts before Labor Day, we'll really know that the country is doomed. But hey, how's your knee? Give me a number."

"It's just the rainstorm building up," Steve says. "I'd rate it a seven, tops."

This is their usual exchange on Steve's bad days. It took him a long time to break the macho military habit of always claiming to be fine, but now he tells Chin the truth. Chin encourages Steve to go home if his pain level reaches eight, and practically pushes him into a cab if it's any higher.

Chin lays a sympathetic hand on Steve's shoulder, then heads off to shelve albums of climatically-inappropriate holiday songs. Steve's only ever had one white Christmas – Afghanistan, 2001 – and it's not an experience he'd care to repeat. He feels the cold so badly now, after everything that happened in those mountains.

Steve glances around, but sees only a few customers who seem happy to browse. Kono looks up from her computer and nods at him, indicating she's ready to handle any calls or purchases. So Steve figures he has time to re-alphabetize the chapter books, too.

He's damn lucky to work with people who make allowances for him: first Mamo, and now Kono and Chin.

Like Steve, Chin never planned on a career in retail...he was once a professional violinist with a very bright future. A frequent visitor to Mamo's, he used to buy multiple recordings of concertos he was learning, CDs of shorter and simpler pieces for his young students to study, and many special-ordered books about classical music.

Smart, funny, and modest despite his incredible talent, Chin soon became one of Steve's favorite customers. Both of them treated Mamo almost as a father figure. In fact, Steve remembers Chin haunting the store as a UH music student, back when he himself was just a teenager dusting the stockroom shelves.

But in 2003, Chin's musical career ended in scandal and ignominy. He was accused of stealing tens of thousands from the Honolulu Philharmonic, amounting to half its endowment fund. Though criminal charges were never laid, Chin was effectively blacklisted from every professional orchestra here and on the mainland.

Many of Chin's relatives also played in the HPO, and subsequently turned their backs on him. His teaching work dried up, too, with parents sending their kids elsewhere even if they begged to keep learning from Chin.

But Steve didn't believe it was true, as Chin is one of the most honest and honorable people he's ever met, and Mamo had no doubts. When it became clear that Chin's options were worryingly limited – gossip travels fast in the international classical community, and Chin couldn't find any decent non-music work with such suspicion hanging over him – Mamo offered him a job.

Chin accepted gratefully, but giving up a lifetime's dedication to playing music in order to sell it instead really hurt him. And hiring Chin hurt Mamo financially; he lost some long-standing customers, including most members of the HPO. But together, the store and its staff pulled through.

At first Chin was just an assistant, like Steve, but then Pat declared that she was getting older and wanted to reduce her hours. So she took charge of the growing DVD collection, making way for Chin to become head of the music department. Over the years, he's become Steve's best friend too.

Six years ago, Mamo had a heart attack; a minor one, but he never fully recovered. He had no family of his own to inherit his beloved store, and didn't want to risk selling to a stranger who might destroy everything he'd built up.

Pat was planning to retire soon, but Chin intended to stick around. He and his wife Malia, who'd stood by him through it all, had a baby son by then and he needed some financial security. And Steve realized – almost to his surprise – that there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

Since neither of them could afford to buy him out, Mamo changed his will to leave Chin and Steve equal shares in the store. A year later, Mamo had a second, fatal heart attack while walking along Waikiki Beach. They buried him with his favorite book in one hand and his favorite album in the other, and vowed to keep the business going as best they could.

Steve and Chin have preserved his legacy, but not without making some changes. Developing a web presence was their first priority, since Mamo's sole concession to the e-commerce era had been an AOL email address. Now their online store takes orders from all over Hawaii, with cheaper and faster shipping than mainland-based websites. And Kono updates their Facebook page and Twitter account with info about special deals and upcoming events.

Chin went through the many thousands of CDs in stock, and weeded out any that had sat on the shelf for over five years – most did eventually sell, if only at 75% off. Then he expanded the Hawaiian music selection, so as to attract both locals and tourists, and built up the opera DVD selection too (many aficionados now prefer to watch staged performances, instead of just listening).

In the book department, Steve made his own strategic choices. He can't compete with stores like Target, which sell mass market novels at or below cost, so his main emphasis is now on literary fiction. He also established an LGBT section, since gay erotica is sold at the island's various sex shops but quality queer literature and non-fiction isn't.

And while Mamo always stocked a good range of local books, Steve's taken that even further by forming close ties with Hawaii's independent publishers. Many local authors now have their book launches here, catered by Kamekona, and the café hosts book clubs too.

Kamekona's café has been a highly successful innovation, period. Though cafés inside retail outlets are now common, they're mostly mainland chains selling generic food and crappy coffee. But Kamekona somehow produces amazing meals and snacks from his tiny kitchen, and uses only freshly-ground Hawaiian coffee. And it helps that Toast, his latest and best barista, seems to commune with the espresso machine on a telepathic level.

Foot traffic through Mamo's has increased as word spreads about the café hidden away on the mezzanine, and people on their way to or from Kamekona's often make impulse purchases.

Stairs are a challenge for Steve, even on his good days, and there's no elevator or escalator in this old building (something else that will change, if Steve can ever convince the bank to loan them the money). Instead, Kamekona brings lunch down to him, free of charge. The guy's got some unusual ideas about sandwich fillings and salad toppings, but at least Steve is never bored. He's eaten much weirder food before, for sure, and anything's better than MREs.

"Excuse me," a voice says, "can I get some help here?"

Steve snaps out of his reverie, and sees a blond man standing over him with an impatient expression. Behind him, a familiar-looking girl with long braids is browsing the children's reference books on the opposite wall.

"Sorry, sir," Steve says, embarrassed to be caught off-guard by a stranger. Inattention like that could have gotten him killed out in the field. He reaches for his cane and tries to stand, but his goddamn leg has seized up. Shit...how long has he been sitting here in a painkiller-induced daze?

The customer leans forward. "Hey, you need a hand?" Steve grits his teeth and accepts the help, and together they get him vertical. Up close, he can see that the man is half a foot shorter than him – but powerfully built – and has stunning blue eyes. God, he's gorgeous.

"Thanks for that," Steve says. He leans on his cane and tries to look calmly professional, ignoring the shooting pains from his knee. "Now, how can I help you?"

"I'm after some books for my daughter, and she says you're the guy to ask."

The little girl behind the customer turns around and says, "Hi, Mr. McGarrett!"

"Hey, Gracie," Steve says with a grin.

"Wow," the man says to Grace. "Monkey, you weren't kidding about being a regular here."

"Oh, she's one of my favorite customers," Steve confirms. "Quiet and polite, great taste in books, clean hands: I couldn't ask for better."

She beams at him, and then announces, "Mr. McGarrett, this is my dad, Danno. He just moved here from New Jersey."

Ah, that explains it. Steve's only ever seen Grace with her mother before.

"Nice to meet you, Danno. I'm Steve," he says, extending his hand. Grace's father shakes it firmly.

"Danny Williams," he says. "Only my daughter gets to call me 'Danno'."

Steve nods his understanding. He wouldn't have tolerated Mamo's nickname for him, 'Stevie', from anyone else. Realizing he's held onto Danny's hand a fraction too long, he lets go and asks, "So, what are you looking to buy today?"

"Gracie's class is just starting a project on sea creatures, and she wants to read ahead," Danny says.

It's one of the stand-by topics for Hawaiian elementary schools – Steve studied something about oceans or beaches at least once a year, as a kid – so he always makes sure to have a good selection in stock.

Steve looks at Grace, who's been watching them intently. "Okay, no problem," he tells her. "Do you want to know about all kinds of sea creatures, or just the ones that live around Hawaii?"

"I think we're only studying local animals, but I want to learn about all kinds...especially dolphins." Grace spots a new collection of fairytales with a pink glittery cover, then, which diverts her attention.

Steve glances at Danny and murmurs, "I can show her a bunch of books to choose from. How many are you looking to get?"

Experience has taught him that it's better to ascertain a parent's limits first, before tempting kids with things they can't have. And while Steve knows Grace's mother is wealthy, he suspects her father isn't.

Danny spreads his hands. "She left Newark in July and I couldn't make it out here until yesterday, so I've got a backlog of book-buying to catch up on," he says. "I think I can afford a few. And hey, better marine biology than Hannah Montana tie-in novels, right?"

"I don't stock those, anyway," Steve says, and Danny laughs.

"Thank Christ for that. They're about all my nieces back home ever read."

Steve picks out four possibilities for Grace, who sits in a child-sized chair and leafs through them. Danny watches her, so much love in his expression that Steve's breath catches.

Two of the titles are quickly dismissed as 'too babyish'; Grace short-lists the others.

"Hey, would you like to see the grown-up books about marine life as well?" Steve asks. "Some of the words might be a little hard for you, but there are really great photos."

"Yes, please," Grace says.

"You can just point us in the right direction, if you want," Danny adds. "I'm guessing your leg is pretty sore right now." His tone is understanding but not pitying, and he doesn't stare at Steve's cane.

"Actually, I need to keep it moving," Steve says. It's true enough, but mostly he wants to maximize his time with the two of them.

He limps across the store, ignoring Chin's curious gaze. Over by the front window, Steve takes two large hardbacks and a small paperback off the shelves, and hands them all to Grace. Danny claims a nearby armchair, pulling Grace and her haul onto his lap. They look through the books together, his cheek pressed against her smooth brown hair. She reads some sections out loud, and he helps her with the advanced vocab.

Steve stands a couple of yards away, flexing his knee. To stop himself staring at Grace's father, he focuses on re-alphabetizing the biographies. Steve doesn't understand why he's so drawn to the guy. He's seen plenty of loving dads in this store, reading with their kids, and many of them are handsome too. So why is this one so incredibly appealing?

Maybe it's that Danny has been apart from his daughter for three months, and just endured a 12-hour flight to get here. But it seems like he wasted no time, after their reunion, in finding out Grace's current interests and feeding her voracious appetite for knowledge.

When Steve's father used to return from a six-month deployment, he'd want to throw a football around or climb a mountain or take Steve down to see the ships at anchor. It wouldn't have occurred to Dad to ask what books Steve was reading, or to buy him more; he left all that stuff up to Mom. She was better qualified, sure, but Dad didn't even make the attempt.

It was only when Steve started trying in earnest to live up to his expectations that the two of them connected. Making Dad proud had led him into the military, and eventually to Afghanistan. In his darkest moments – usually at dawn, after a night of pain and dreams – Steve wishes Dad had stayed at sea.

Outside, the late afternoon storm signaled by Steve's aching knee is here. There'll be a downpour, soon enough.

Steve is rearranging the travel display by the time Grace makes her final selection: the children's book about dolphins, the pocket guide to Hawaii's marine life, and a large hardback of underwater photographs taken around Oahu.

Pointing to the cover of the last book, Steve tells her, "I've been down to that reef a bunch of times – it's so beautiful."

Grace's eyes widen. "You go diving?"

"I used to, yeah. My dad took me snorkeling as a kid, and I learned to scuba dive as a teenager. Then I did a lot of diving during my time in the Navy."

Danny looks from Steve's face to his cane, and must make the logical assumption. "Okay, Gracie, let's go buy these books," he says, heading off any more questions.

Steve nods at him gratefully. He's used to kids asking about his injury, but the truth is too hard for him to tell and too much for them to hear. Instead, he spins tall tales about marauding pirates, wicked witches, or invading aliens.

Grace has never asked, though she seems curious about everything else in the world. But then her mother, a woman who seems to wear her British politeness like a suit of armor, is usually hovering nearby.

At the check-out, Grace says, "Hey Danno, can I get that book of fairytales too?"

"Sorry," Danny replies, "educational books only today."

She looks up at him, her expression imploring. "Please?"

Steve's seen many parents capitulate in the face of much less adorable begging; Danny just shakes his head. "Nope, sweetheart, no dice. I missed you real bad these past three months, but I'm still immune to the pouting and the puppy-dog eyes."

Grace's lips quirk up, and her father goes on. "I'll make you a deal, okay? If the book is still here when we come in next time, and you still want it, we'll buy it then."

She sighs but agrees, and wanders over to the window to watch the rain. For his part, Steve is both impressed by Danny's parenting skills and stupidly pleased to hear that the guy's already intending a return visit.

Danny looks outside too, and frowns. "Damn. It's really bucketing down now, and I don't have an umbrella."

"I can lend you one," Steve offers, as he wraps their books in a plastic bag. "We keep a stockpile here, for customers caught out by afternoon showers."

"Yeah, that'd be great. But wait, did you seriously just call this torrential rain a shower?"

"Welcome to Hawaii," Steve says with a grin, handing over an umbrella big enough to shelter Danny, Grace, and her precious purchases. "I suggest you invest in a decent umbrella, if you're planning to stick around."

"I'll be here for as long as Gracie's here," Danny says, but he doesn't exactly sound overjoyed about it. Then he smiles, and it brightens his whole face. "Anyway, thanks for your help. You're real good with kids – you got any of your own?"

Steve shakes his head. "I just remember what it was like, being that age and wanting to read everything in this place. And Mamo never talked down to me, so I try to follow his example."

"You shopped here as a kid? Wow, that's some history." Danny looks around as if seeing the store through new eyes.

"Danno, I'll be late for dinner," Grace calls, and Danny looks at his watch and swears under his breath.

"Gotta go, or else Rachel will not be amused. See you, Steve."

"Bye, Danny," Steve says. Grace waves at him from the door, and he gives her the shaka sign that always elicits a delighted smile.

Steve limps back to his desk – it's getting near closing time, thank God. Chin looks up and says, "Been a while since you got talking with a father like that."

"I talk to a lot of dads...moms, too," Steve protests, and it's true. He loves dealing directly with kids, but helping parents is also an important part of the job. It can even be enjoyable, if they're receptive to his advice.

"Sure. But that girl's been coming in here for months, and I think I've had more conversations with her mother than you have."

Steve shrugs as he sits down. "That's because Mrs. Edwards keeps special-ordering all that English choral music. She doesn't ask me about kids' books, and you know I try not to bug parents unless they need help, Chin."

Chin holds up his hands in surrender. "Okay, fine. Clearly I was just imagining the spark between you and her ex."

"Sorry, brah," Steve sighs. "I like him, yeah, but knowing my luck he's straight as an arrow." Steve doesn't trust his own gaydar; 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' made him paranoid about reading guys wrong, and hitting on customers could be bad for business.

Putting Danny out of his mind, Steve gets on with his end-of-day routine.