Chapter Text
Sometimes it was a tidal wave; a wall of water that would crash ashore to tumble him into darkness. There was no way to hold it back.
He'd tried.
And, despite the hands that reached out to keep him from being swept away, they couldn’t save him. He'd fight the black waters; hold his breath until his body screamed for oxygen, for light, but it was never long enough.
Then he drowned.
Drowned in the violence of which human beings are capable.
Drowned in the blood of the innocent stalked by monsters who saw purity then were compelled to destroy it.
Drowned by the very relentlessness of evil.
Though most of this mayhem was deliberate, sometimes it was merely random; a wrong-place-wrong-time happenstance where a stray bullet or speeding vehicle left a void no other could fill. In the wakes of these missiles swelled a chorus of loss and abandonment from those left behind.
He'd come to realize the futility of trying protect the ones who may have been doomed from the moment they drew their first breaths. They were destined to be murdered, maimed, or damaged irreversibly. Despite his training and skills, despite his struggle to prevent the inevitable, fate would take its toll.
Failure would become his reality and a darkness no light could penetrate would close around him.
That’s when the word ‘classified’ would fall from his lips. He'd smile, lie to friends who knew there could be no questions, sling his duffle over his shoulder, and stride out the door.
. . . . . . .
The day is bright and the air cool and crisp. Like celestial sailing ships, clouds glide between earth and sun while intermittent shadows play over what lay below.
'Pacific' means peaceful but the name is misleading. Though it's the same ocean surrounding the islands of home, it seems more ominous from this side of it; its waves more likely to snatch the unwary from casual strolls along the strand.
In relentless surges and ebbs the misnamed ocean rolled under the pier, its waves dashing themselves against barnacle clad pilings. Their power would jolt upward through the planks on which he stood to reverberate through his body.
He usually finds solace in the sea but at this moment, as he gazes at the agitated expanse, he finds no serenity in it or himself. The menace of its blue depths seems somehow appropriate.
. . . . . . .
The sun is shining but the wind is cold off the water. Her dark eyes fasten on a figure in the distance as she huddles further into her jacket.
He stands at the end of the boardwalk, gazing out at the horizon. Like a sail, the hood of his navy-blue windbreaker intermittently catches in the wind and flaps about behind his bare head. She can’t clearly make out his features but his hair is dark and neatly cropped. He appears athletically trim beneath clothing that flattens against his body with each brisk gust. She reminds herself that she's in San Diego so chances are he's military.
She takes another sip of her cocoa. Today is a lazy one and people watching entertains her. She’s gotten good at reading them. Perhaps she can divine their secrets without ever having to interact. That would be nice. She always strives to hone the talent that serves her well when setting up a job. The new one starts in a couple of days. After it’s complete she’ll be financially set for several months before it will be necessary to take on another.
The beginning day’s unusually low temperature is too chilly for children to be wandering about. Only those with the most haphazard parenting skills would drag the brats out in this weather.
At this hour on a Saturday morning the state’s native born would more likely be snuggled in their beds rather than be wandering about in what other parts of the world would consider mild winter weather.
For Californians though it's positively frigid. The hardy souls here this morning are most likely transplants from somewhere else. She smiles at the thought that the natives of 'The Golden State, whose usual winter wear consists of board shorts, parkas, and flip-flops would literally be freezing their asses off if they were in Canada. It’s not terrasse season there. Right now in Quebec City it’s twenty degrees Fahrenheit.
He's moving now. With long, confident, strides the lone man walks toward the concession stand a few yards away. At the take-out window she hears him request an espresso, smiling as he does so.
Nice smile.
After paying and dropping a tip into the slotted coffee can beside the window he moves further down the counter to wait for his order. Arms crossed over chest and hips canted so that his weight rests on one leg he leans back against the weathered wood. He appears relaxed but his eyes are warily evaluating his surroundings.
She recognizes it . . . the way one would search for hidden dangers and plan out escape routes. Perhaps there is more to this guy than what's pictured on the outside of the pretty box?
The barista calls out to him and he steps back to the window. He's handed a steaming cup and he thanks her with a nod and brief grin. He turns and stands for a moment, eyes searching the surprisingly crowded area offering seating to patrons of the pier's food vendors.
The Opal Pier is busy today despite the weather. A popular local attraction, its hotel is always booked months in advance. Though she had no previous arrangement, she'd managed to 'finesse' a couple nights lodging from a recent acquaintance – the hotel's reservations manager. Her lodging is only a studio cottage but it's at the very western end of the row of little white-painted wooden cabins perched over the water. It even has its own deck.
She watches as he cranes his neck to look for a vacant seat but, finding none, he shrugs to himself and starts to walk away.
"You need a place to sit?" she asks as he comes abreast where she sits.
He halts and long lashed hazel-blue eyes fasten on her. With brow quirked he says, "You mind?"
"Not at all. It's pretty crowded today. I'll share." She gestures to the other side of the small table.
"Thanks." he replies as he sets his cup onto the peeling wood and steps over the attached bench to sit opposite her.
He smiles again. It’s like a sunrise.
. . . . . . .
As their day had been crisp and cold, their night is warm and humid. Need entwines with need as bodies writhe, coiling around one another like serpents; skin sliding on sweat-slick skin; breaths mingling in cries panted into the darkness.
. . . . . . .
Dawn found them lying half-awake; quietly enjoying the warmth of one another's sated bodies. The electrical current that had hummed beneath their skins into the long night had finally been switched off. Only a drowsy peace remained.
A glance at a bedside clock signaled an abrupt end to their languor. Covers were thrown off, discarded clothing located, hasty clean-ups completed and then with one last grin, he was out the door.
Standing at the small bay window of cottage number 6, she watches as he disappears down the boardwalk and around the corner. Is the swagger a comment on their evening or just the way he moves?
. . . . . . .
Six months later:
Steve sighed and rubbed gritty eyes. He and the team are exhausted. Despite giving it all they had; the kid is still dead. They'd only been able to provide her parents a body to bury.
Even though the ten-year-old had been missing for nearly a week; her distraught mother and father had held out hope.
Yeah, he thought bitterly as he curled his lip at the platitude he’d come to loath , There’s always hope .
But he’d failed.
Over three days and nights his team had been relentless in their search. But no matter what effort was put forth, no matter how desperately one clung to the belief the victim would be found alive, it had all been for naught.
They’d caught the bastard suspected of abducting her and a fter an hour of 'persuasion' in the blue room he’d finally confessed and told them where to look . Eliana Moore had been found in the Ewa Forest beneath a hollowed out log – her grave marker.
They'd later learned Eliana had been killed shortly after her disappearance. The time between the call from HPD to ask Five-0 for their assistance and the moment the kidnapper had ended her life had been only a mere two hours.
It wasn’t a surprise. Though he hadn't said it, from the moment Five-0 had gotten the call, he’d had the feeling it was hopeless. Their entire week had been a series of only half-successful resolutions at most; none of them turning out ideally – none of them without casualties.
For her parents there was only unimaginable grief. For the searchers there was, at best, a hollow and inadequate victory. Though the perpetrator had been apprehended Hawaii has no death penalty. The tepid consolation is that he’d never again see the light of day outside a prison.
Lost in his dark musing, Five-0's leader didn't see the one standing at his doorway, keys dangling from fingers and an expectant expression on his stubbled face.
"You coming?" asked Danny.
Steve looked up at the man whose appearance reflected how he himself felt. Red-rimmed eyes and a less than perfect coif testified to exhaustion – both physical and mental.
"We're all half-dead, D. "It's not like we saved anyone anyway. Why don't we put-off the case closed get-together?" It certainly can’t be called a celebration, he’d already told himself.
Understanding his partner's frame of mind, Danny replied perhaps a bit too forcefully, "We CANT save everyone. You know that, Steven!" The compact detective tiredly rubbed a hand over his face then took a step closer to say in a quieter voice, "But who knows how many more kids would have been killed if we hadn't caught him?" It sounded as though he was trying to convince himself as well.
"Yeah, it's just that . . ." Steve's voice trailed off before he shrugged and let out a long exhale. "Okay. I guess we shouldn't disappoint the others." Closing his laptop he gathered up his belongings to follow Danny out the door.
. . . . . . .
The case closed get together at their usual watering hole was glum - more a wake than recognition of a job well done. Kono drank with purpose; her plan to numb herself then go home and crawl into bed and stay there until the next millennium. Even the thought of her usual routine after a tough case - catching a few waves - didn't appeal to her. This one had kicked her ass . . . and her soul.
Chin felt much the same though he knew he was destined to be his baby cousin's designated driver this evening. He nursed a lone beer for most of the night as he waited for Kono to give-in to her fatigue and call it quits. He had no one to go home to so it was just as well that he stay a while longer. The saying that misery loves company never seemed more appropriate.
Danny sipped lightly because he had to take Charlie to a classmate's birthday party tomorrow. Its attendees would be a herd of kids hyped-up on sugar and egged on by their like-minded companions. As an added delight, there's a bouncy castle! Being there while hungover would be pure hell.
An additional reason for Five-0's second in command to refrain from getting plowed is that its leader looked like hell before they'd even arrived at the bar. Danny reasoned it may be best to stay sober enough to keep an eye on the idiot.
Lou said, (rather unenthusiastically), that tomorrow he has a date requiring his full, un-hungover, attention. He's supposed to take Renee out to celebrate twenty-two years of wedded bliss so he too has to imbibe on a conservative level. Their anniversary outing was to involve some sort of touristy brunch cruise and then an evening luau at the Hilton. His woman would have words for him if he wasn't fully 'there'. No matter how much he desired the tranquility to be achieved per a prescription written by Dr. Jack Daniels, it wasn't worth the risk of his beloved's wrath.
Steve had no such restrictions. If Catherine was still around, he'd probably cut back on the liquid mood modifier but she wasn't. His 'thing' with Lynn was kind of hit and miss. They'd come to the understanding that theirs was an exclusive relationship but he knew it wasn't a forever one. They hadn't actually talked about a future together but he knew she wasn't 'the one'. He had no desire to risk his heart again. In any case, he was unencumbered for several more days. She'd gone to the mainland for a month-long family visit and wasn't due back for another week. She must really like her family, he'd thought before adding, Well, at least she has a family.
Danny surreptitiously glanced at his partner throughout the evening. Steve wasn't usually a heavy drinker, certainly not the hard stuff, but he'd already put away several shots and was working on another. He and Kono, courtesy of Mr. Cuervo, seemed on their way to drinking one another under the table. The two on the team who are most alike also seem to be seeking respite from their demons at the same rate and speed. At least neither of the idiots will be behind the wheel tonight, thought both Chin and Danny.
As Steve tilted the shot glass back to take a swallow, his eyes suddenly became round. Danny turned to peer in the direction his partner had been facing to see what could have caused the reaction. Across the large room he saw a tall woman with short dark hair in process of seating herself at a table against the wall. She folded gracefully onto a chair and smiled up at the waitress who'd immediately appeared to take her drink order.
Danny turned back to Steve who'd set his glass down to gaze blearily at the newcomer.
"Steve?" he asked as his partner continued to stare at the woman on the other side of the room. The restaurant's lounge was becoming crowded; the noise level rising accordingly. Perhaps he hadn't heard him?
"Steve?" repeated Danny. Again no response. He waved a hand in front of his partner's face to get his attention. "Earth to Steve." he sing-songed.
"Huh?" asked Five-0's leader as he averted his gaze from the mystery woman to fasten glazed eyes on the man who is now annoyingly snapping fingers in his face.
Finally having succeeded in getting his partner's attention, Danny asked, "You see someone you know?"
With a shrug Steve replied, "No, um, just someone who looks sort of familiar. It's not them. No one I know."
Though unconvinced, Danny nodded.
"Hey boss!" slurred Kono who'd noted her leader's distraction as well, "Maybe you should go introduce yourself. She's hot! You should hit that."
Chin frowned at her words. Maybe it's time to haul Kono’s ass home. His cousin could get a little rowdy when she'd been drinking. He'd certainly pulled her out of less favorable situations when she was younger.
Steve only snorted a response and picked up his glass again.
The Hawaiian woman apparently wasn't done yet. "Ya know tha 'thing' you have with Lynn?" said the team's youngest and only female member who’d set down her own shot glass to actually make air quotes. "Iss nah goin’ anywhere, brah. We can all see that yur nah that inta her."
"I like Lynn!" Five-0's leader protested - perhaps a bit too strongly. But he'd taken a half second too long and it hadn't gone unnoticed.
"Yeah, like", "Thass the wrong 'L' word, yur usin' there, brah."
"Time to go home, Cuz." announced Chin as he stood to address the one in process of losing the unofficial drinking contest.
He’d put his hands on Kono's shoulders - signal for her to stand as well but she brushed his hands away and protested, "Nah, iss still early!" Addressing Steve once again she said, "Lynn's nice but she's nah, ya know, Catherine. Now tha woman had you comin' an’ goin' but I bet mostly . . ."
Danny nearly choked on the beer he'd been sipping.
Chin didn't let her complete the sentence. "Okay, that's it, Water Woman!" he announced as he put his hands under her arms and pulled her upward. "I've gotta get you home before this turns into something that's going to require bail money."
"I'm bettin' on Kono." chuckled Lou as Chin frowned a 'Don't encourage her' at him.
Steve was silent as he blinked at his obviously inebriated teammate. Kono had hit it on the head. Lynn isn't Cath. After a couple of beats he said calmly, "Yeah, maybe it’s time for Kono to go home and get some rest."
He didn't sound angry. He didn't sound anything.