Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, nor am I making a profit, monetary or otherwise, through the writing of this.

Warning: There is a death, but of an OC. Angst, but there is happy fluff at the end - I promise. Bear with it; I don't write death fics, unless I can bring non-OC characters back from the dead.

A/N: Written for ciaimpala at lj-community h50_holidayswap. Read by animegirl1129 and K. Holtzman. Recommended song: Thriving Ivory's, "Flowers for a Ghost."

Two days, three hours and six and a half minutes, Steve notes, and he writes the time down in Danny's worn, black notebook – 15:56:01 PM, December 27th, 2012.

Looking back, Steve wishes that he hadn't asked Danny to go to the store to get whipped topping for the pie Kono and Ben had dropped off for Danny, Grace and he when they'd stopped by to wish them a joy filled, "Mele Kalikimaka."

It was a foolish, unnecessary errand. They could've had their pie without it, but Grace had wanted whipped cream, and, for once, so had Steve. Thanksgiving and Christmas were the only times of the year he could indulge in sweets. Having Grace, his step-daughter officially, as of December 1st, for the whole Christmas break, made him even more inclined to give into the temptation to eat a little extra and allow his sweet tooth to come to the fore.

Danny found it impossible to resist their matching puppy dog eyes and he'd caved, promising to, '…be back quicker than you and Uncle Steve can sing, "The Twelve Days of Christmas," monkey.'

That was the last that Steve and Grace had seen of Danny. He'd walked out of the door with a spring to his step and a smile on his face, and had not returned. Would never return.

The call came at 12:50:01, December 25th, and Steve had written that down in Danny's notebook afterwards, wanting to make sure to record every single second – as though this was part of an investigation. It was the only thing he could think to do. Steve couldn't let go of Danny, and, though it was a vain exercise, writing in Danny's notebook made him feel as though he was somehow close to the man he'd lost.

It was like something straight out of a movie, and Steve found himself wishing that Danny was around so he could ask his partner what movie it was that he was thinking of – the one where a loved one left home on a simple errand, and just never came back.

"What's the name of that movie Danno?" Steve asks as he flips the notebook closed and carefully lays it down on the end table. "The one where the wife sends her husband out for a can of soup, or," he rubs at his eyes and pushes the tears away, because Grace is just outside, on the beach, playing in the water with Kono and Chin, "or maybe it was something else. I can't remember Danno."

The call hadn't been what he'd anticipated. And he'd had to sit down before he fell down. Grace had picked up on the fact that something was wrong right away, and her face had crumpled and tears had fallen and she'd run from the kitchen before Steve could get to her. Not that he could've moved had he really tried.

"There must be some mistake," Steve can remember saying, though how he'd managed to say those words through numb lips and a tongue that didn't seem to want to work, he'll never know, "Detective Williams went to the grocery store to get some whipped cream."

"Did Detective Danny Williams drive silver, 2010 Chevrolet Camaro with the license plate MIST-1?"

The tinny voice on the phone had sounded like it was coming through a wind tunnel, the sound had been warbled and Steve's vision had gone in and out of focus. He'd had to have the officer repeat himself five times before he'd understood what it was that the man was asking him.

"Yes," Steve had said, shaking his head to clear it – he remembers that distinctly now, how his ears had rung and how black dots had danced across his vision, how he could hear Grace's quiet sobs coming from her bedroom upstairs – "Danny drives a silver Camaro. He went to get some whipped cream."

Steve had felt compelled to repeat that last part, to remind the officer of why Danny had left the house that day. Though, now, as he thinks back, Steve can't, for the life of him, remember why it had been so important to him that the officer understand that. It hadn't made a difference in the end. It had still been Danny's car which had been totaled. Still Danny's blood that had been found smeared all over the dashboard. Still Danny's body burnt beyond all recognition by the fire that had been sparked by a leak in the oil tanker which had hit Danny's car.

"Hey, Uncle Steve, why don't you come out and join us on the beach?" Kono's voice breaks through his thoughts, and Steve pushes himself up off the couch.

Steve hasn't called Rachel yet. Hasn't told her the news that Danny is dead. That her ex-husband was killed by a careless driver while on his way home from getting a stupid container of whipped topping. He doesn't want to ruin her and Stan's holiday, even though he knows that Grace can use her mom right now, and that Rachel will go off on him once he does tell her.

But they aren't due back on island until after New Year's, and Steve doesn't want to give up Grace just yet. She's the only living tie he's got left of Danny right now, and maybe it's selfish of him to keep her with him, but Steve doesn't care, except, of course he does, and he isn't sure what he should be doing, what Danny would do if Grace was Steve's and he'd died instead of Danny. Danny would know what do, and whatever he did would inevitably be the right thing.

He's caught between a rock and a hard place – cliché as that is. Rachel knowing now won't change anything; it'll just taint her memory of her little boy's Christmas, and Steve can remember how Danny's eyes had filled with tears and how his voice had gotten husky as he'd seen Rachel, Stan and little Charles off at the airport. Steve thinks that Danny would approve of the decision that he's made. That maybe it is on par with what Danny would have done.

Steve's caught around the waist as Grace wraps her arms around him in a tackle-hug before he can even make it past the lanai. And his heart catches in his throat.

"Whoa there," Steve says, mustering up a smile that he doesn't feel when Grace looks up at him.

Though her eyes are brown and not the clear blue of her father's, the look in them is one Steve's often seen in Danny's when he's being playful or bantering with him. It nearly fells him, but he manages to brace himself against the house with one hand and he places his other hand on Grace's shoulder.

"Have you and Auntie Kono been playing tackle football without me?" Steve ruffles her hair and Grace shakes her head.

"I just missed you is all," she says, and then she releases her hold on him, and steps back to look at him in a way that is so reminiscent of Danny that it takes all of the self-control that Steve has not to breakdown and cry.

"We're hunting for hermit crabs," Grace says after a pause, and then she catches Steve's hand in hers and tugs, pulling him down toward the beach where Chin and Kono are sitting with their feet in the surf.

"Auntie Kono says that they make good pets," Grace explains.

"Don't you already have a couple of pets?" Steve asks, and even the memory of the dog, Jersey – after much deliberation and Steve still thinks Cujo would've been a more fitting name for the dog – that Danny had rescued, brings tears to his eyes.

"This one isn't for me, Uncle Steve, it's for you," Grace says seriously. Her forehead wrinkles and she purses her lips, and puts a hand on her hip as though she's expecting him to protest.

And while there are a million and one reasons why he should say, no, to keeping a hermit crab as a pet, not the least of which is salmonella, Steve doesn't say anything. Instead, he nods his head thoughtfully.

"You need something to occupy your time with, something to take care of, so that when you miss Danno," her voice cracks a little and Steve wants to gather her up and hug her, but he doesn't because that isn't what she needs right now, "you can look at Hermie or maybe Hermione, and know that you aren't alone."

Steve can't keep the tears at bay, and he stifles a sob, but he nods and wipes at his tears. He pulls Grace in for a hug.

"Yeah, okay," he says, managing to control his emotions by sheer force of will that's a hallmark of his military training. "I think I'll name him or her Grace, though. That okay with you?"

Grace thinks about it and her nose crinkles. "Only if it's a girl, Uncle Steve, Grace is not a very good name for a boy, even if it is just a hermit crab."

"That's true, brah," Chin says, and he rests a hand on Steve's arm.

"Yeah, Grace is a girl's name, boss," Kono adds. "If it's a boy, I vote we call him Joe or maybe Bob."

Steve knows what his team, the rest of his team, is doing, and he loves them for it. He dries the rest of his tears with the back of his hand, knowing that there'll be time for crying after Kono and Chin have left and long after Grace has gone to sleep. Right now he needs to be a rock for his step-daughter. Like Danny would have been for her if he'd have been the one who'd gone out for whipped topping instead.

"I don't know about Joe or Bob, I think maybe Hermie would be a fine name for a boy, though," Steve says, siding with Grace.

Later that night, before he falls into bed, exhausted because Kono and Chin had kept him and Grace busy all day, Steve writes: It's been three days, twelve hours and ten minutes since you left, Danny. You would have loved today. Kono and Chin came over and played with Grace. We've got a pet now – a hermit crab named Jersey Jr. You should've seen the look on Grace's face when the crab walked across her hand. I miss you. December 28th, 00:10:01. I'm going to tell Rachel, I promise, just, not yet.

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