Hey, it's Danny. I'm going to assume that you're on a flight somewhere and not just ignoring my calls. Even though I have a feeling you really left because you knew I'd be on my way to a pineapple plantation this morning and you couldn't handle an hour-long diatribe on the dangers of pineapples. Your loss, my friend. But that's what you get for taking off by yourself instead of letting your friends help you. And you'd better live to regret that, because I want the honor of shooting you myself when you get back, got it? Call me.
It's Danny. Thought I'd try again, since I don't know where you're going or, y'know, when you left, seeing as how you took off in the middle of the night and left a note with very little information. I'll try you later. Or you could, say, I don't know, call me?
Guess you're still in the air. Or ignoring me. Either way, I don't give up that easily, Steven.
Okay, I know you've had enough time that you've had to at least land somewhere by now--no plane has that much fuel. So I'm going with the ignoring me and all my missed calls and messages. I get that you think you have to do this alone, Superman, but that doesn't mean you can't check in. Capiche?
I know I'm not imagining that your letter said 'I'll be in touch,' because I have it right here, and I can see the words. In case you lost your human interaction manual, that means you actually call or visit the person you say that to from time to time.
So, hey, that pineapple plantation case? It ended with Max killing the man who murdered his mother. Too bad we don't have anyone around who might have been helpful in dealing with things like avenging the death of a parent. Just sayin.
Okay, seriously, Steven, I know you're chasing down evil, or whatever, but so am I and I've found about fifty chances to call you. Call me, asshole.
Oh, and I forgot to tell you - the dog and I decided to house sit, since I'm assuming you just forgot to ask. He's infested your bed with fleas. Grace thinks it's hilarious. She's drawing you a picture--I let her use the markers on the coffee table without putting anything under the paper, too. Because it's not like anyone's here to stop me. Besides, your table could use some color.
MMS from Danny Williams:
Grace's picture of you surfing
Seriously, Steven? Not even a comment for Grace's obvious artistic talent? Why am I not surprised? I told her you loved it, by the way. Because that's why you left me here, right? To cover for your ass.
You, my friend, are out of beer. You want to know how I know? Because I ate it all. No. Wait. I drank it all. I am gonna have...hate life in the morning with a hangover, and it is all. Your. Fault. You better not be dead, because I'm gonna shoot you when you get back just for leaving me. Us. Dammit.
I swear to God, McGarrett, when you get back I am chloroforming you myself and making Max put a tracker in you that you'll never be able to get out yourself. And I hope the chloroform gives you even half as much of a headache as my hangover. Because I am on my way to chase down a drug dealer with this headache, and you are taking every pounding second of blame.
Y'know, I get that you're trying to protect us and all, and that's very noble, but I'm pretty sure the new bullet hole in my arm is even more your fault than the one Doran put there. Because if you'd been here to watch my back when that drug dealer opened fire, I think maybe I wouldn't have gotten shot. Gotta go - I think the ambulance might be coming before I bleed out.
Steve's shaky fingers barely managed to hang up on his voicemail and call Danny's mobile. Danny's call had only come in a minute ago--Steve had even let his finger hover over the "accept" button until it had gone to voicemail. Now, as he listened to Danny's phone ring, he was kicking himself for not accepting.
"Seriously, it takes my near death experience to get you to fucking call?"
Danny's voice left Steve shaking even more as he sagged against the corner of the shack he was sitting in, waiting for Donovan. "Did the ambulance come?"
"Yes, Steven. They just finished with me before I called you."
"But you said they were coming."
"I lied," Danny said flatly. "Kind of like you with your 'I'll be in touch.'"
Steve shifted on the hard floor. "I didn't lie. I was going to be in touch, I just hadn't had a chance yet." Which was a lie--he'd had a few chances to call. He just couldn't risk anything that might weaken his resolve to complete this mission. And talking to Danny weakened his resolve on a lot of things.
"You're lying again. You have a tone."
Steve laughed softly, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the wall. "I thought you were the one with a tone."
"All right, fine. I didn't want to listen to you bitching me out, is that what you wanted to hear? For all the good it did me with those voicemails."
"Yes, and you have no idea how much worse they're going to get if you don't start checking in at least once a day. Do I make myself clear?"
Steve's head knocked softly against the wall as he nodded. "Yes, sir," he said, since Danny couldn't actually see him. "Check in or face dire voicemails. Got it."
"By the way, you didn't lie to Grace. I loved the drawing. Thank her for me?"
"I'll let her know. Hey, can you hold on for five seconds, or are you going to disappear if I make you wait?"
Steve listened to a muffled quick conversation, and then what sounded like a car door, and then Danny was back. "Still there?"
"Wow, I'm flattered."
Danny's tone was anything but flattering, however. "Danno..."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Don't waste my time explaining things I already know, all right? Just tell me if you've had any luck?"
"A little. I'm on a lead. About to meet a contact, actually."
"Do you need to go?"
And even if he had, Steve would've made a few extra minutes after hearing that tone of resignation and disappointment in Danny's voice. "No, he's not due for a few minutes," Steve said. "So fill me in on what's going on there."
Steve sat back and closed his eyes, letting Danny's voice wash over him. The stories alone would've made him homesick, but Danny's voice, every nuance coming out as he told different tales, left Steve so much worse than homesick. With his eyes closed, that voice could make him feel like he was driving up the Pali Highway, sunshine on his face, Danny's cologne mixing with the smell of the Camaro's leather seats.
He was convinced that if Heaven did exist, that's exactly what it would be.
Fuck this. If Donovan didn't have a location on Joe, Steve was going to have to go full on bull in a china shop and get Joe's attention in a painful way. Because he needed to close this chapter on his life. And he needed to make sure the people he loved were safe.
When he knew they'd be safe around him, he could go home.
"Good. Thought I'd lost you."
"Never gonna happen, Danno. So finish your story."