But World Enough, and Time (5/5)
Part 4
December 5th, 2010: Steve is 34
Steve comes to lying curled up, naked and shivering, next to what he thinks might be a shipping container, his stomach gurgling horribly. He barely has time to push himself up onto his hands and knees before he's throwing up a stomachful of bile that burns his nose and throat and only serves to make him even more wretched. He coughs, dry-heaves, spits in a vain attempt to clear the taste out of his mouth.
He staggers to his feet, gingerly steps around the puddle of vomit, dragging the back of his wrist over his mouth. It's the middle of the day, the sun high in the sky, but cool enough that he thinks it might be winter, still.
A gun goes off in the near distance, and Steve freezes in place. The sound of yelling reaches his ears, and instinctively he shrinks back against the container, trying to shield himself.
"Five-0, freeze!" someone bellows, and he realizes with a start that it's Danny William's voice he's hearing, barking orders with the easy confidence of leadership. "Chin, Kono, go around! He won't get far!"
There's silence for what feels like an eternity, then another voice yells out: "Kono!" just as another gunshot splits the air.
He can't stay here, he'll be discovered. Steve takes off at a run away from the voices, bare feet pounding on the asphalt, only to hear―far too late―the sound of approaching footsteps at a dead run. He rounds a corner, collides headlong with a warm shape running the opposite way. He reels, years of practice allowing him to keep his balance, while the other figure sprawls face-first on the ground. A pistol skitters away across the pavement, and there's a muffled curse from the man at Steve's feet.
The man looks up even as Steve feels his own heart lurch painfully in his chest when he recognizes him. "Hesse!"
Victor Hesse's face drains of colour, eyes going impossibly wide. "No," he breathes. "It can't be. You're dead! I just saw you die!"
Steve's throat is closing up, his stomach twisting itself into a brand-new knot, but he manages to take a step forward and kick the man who murdered his father in the face, as hard as he can manage.
"I'm not dead yet, you son of a bitch!" he snarls, and then the world slips away again.
~*~
August 23rd, 2010: Steve is 34
Just when Danny thought that Hawaii couldn't get any weirder than it already was, Kono's boyfriend turns up in his office unannounced less than a month after their first two quasi-disastrous meetings. Unannounced and, what's more, dressed only in his birthday suit.
"What the ever-loving fuck!"
Steve does have the decency to make an attempt to cover up even as Danny whips his head aside and holds up a file folder to shield his eyes. "Uh, hey, Danny."
"Hey, Danny?" Danny sputters, springing to his feet. "How did you even get here? More importantly, why are you not wearing any clothes, you psycho?" he jabs a finger in Steve's general direction. "Okay, wait. Don't. Move."
He always keeps a spare set of clothes in the office, ever since one truly disastrous Hallowe'en shift in '02. Even if his pants won't fit McGarrett, his boxers and shirt will do, so he hands them over to a grateful-looking Steve.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. My questions still stand. What the ever-loving fuck?"
Steve clears his throat uncomfortably. "Okay, before I get into the really complicated reasons I'm here, I, uh, I need to... I have some of the evidence that was stolen."
"You're insane. You are stark naked in my office, how do you―"
"Danny!" Steve says urgently. "I don't know how long I have. Lend me a pad and a pen, please, now!"
And, God help him, Danny obliges him. Steve spends the next few minutes scribbling down what looks like a series of kid's drawings. When he's done, he pushes the pad over to Danny as if it's the answer to life, the universe and everything, but it means nothing at all to Danny.
"What is that?"
"It's a cipher," Steve says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You ever read Sherlock Holmes? It's from one of the stories. My dad was obsessed with them, he used to read them to me and Mary all the time when we were kids. I wrote down the key for you, too."
This has gone on long enough. Danny moves up quietly, carefully, mindful of the fact that this guy used to be a member of the kapu and is therefore probably just as dangerous as he looks, and puts a hand on Steve's arm.
"You realise you're not making any sense, right? Come on, have a seat and let me call someone, okay? I can get Kono in here, if you want, or else I'll drive you to the hospital myself."
Steve drops into the closest chair, eyes closing as though he's exhausted, but he shakes his head. "It's okay, I won't be here much longer, I don't think. Here's the thing, Danny: I travel in time. I don't have the time to explain it to you now, but Kono can fill you in. Or, hey, what day is it?"
"It's Monday."
"What's the date? The year?"
"It's August 23rd, 2010. Steve, did you take something?" That might explain his pallor, the sheen of sweat on his face, the confusion about the time.
Steve grins tiredly and shakes his head again. "I'm at home, right now. Tell you what, why don't you call me and ask for an explanation?"
"You're messing with me."
"Humour me, Danno."
"What did I tell you about calling me that?" Danny snaps in spite of himself, then relents and picks up the phone. "Fine, I will humour you, you lunatic, but only until Kono gets here."
He can see her through the glass window of his office, hurrying toward them once she's spotted Steve in nothing but a pair of borrowed boxers. The phone rings once, twice, until someone picks up, and a man's voice answers.
"Hello?" It's Steve.
For a second Danny is speechless, then he recovers enough to squeak. "Steve?"
"Yes? Who is this?"
"It's Danny Williams. How―is this a joke?"
Steve is smirking at him, arms folded over his chest. The Steve-voice in his ear asks: "What do you mean, Danny?"
"Who is this really, and when I figure out what you and Steve are playing at, I will have you both arrested for obstruction of justice!"
"Oh," the Steve-voice answers. "Am I there, then? Did I tell you about the time-travel yet?"
"This isn't funny," Danny snaps, feeling his blood begin to boil. He's going to rip Steve a new one for starters, and then he's going to strongly suggest Kono get herself some better taste in men. His train of thought never goes any further, though, because the next thing he knows the Steve sitting right in front of him vanishes, melts right into thin air under his nose. "Oh my God."
Kono pokes her head into his office just as the now-empty boxers slither to the floor. She looks sheepish. "Um, I guess maybe now might be a good time to explain this?"
~*~
September 15th, 2010: Steve is 34, Kono is 26
Danny isn't entirely sure he wants to go out to a football game with Kono's crazy time-traveling boyfriend. The guy attracts trouble like shit attracts flies, but Kono adores him, and since Danny likes Kono he found himself agreeing to it. Besides, Chin will be there too, and this is one of those times that can be viewed as a team-building exercise, which is always a good thing. It's his weekend with Grace, and she's fairly wriggling with excitement, wearing a brand-new sundress that her mother got her for the occasion. She's the one who spots the group first and waves frantically, standing on her tiptoes.
"Look, Danno, there they are! Auntie Kono! Auntie Kono, we're over here!" she keeps waving until Danny honestly begins to worry that she's going to dislocate her shoulder.
He lets her run ahead of him a few paces to greet them ('Not too far, honey! Stay where I can see you.') and she throws herself into Kono's arms to give her a hug, only to be lifted clear off the ground with a terrified shriek of delight as Kono spins her around three hundred and sixty degrees, skinny legs flailing. Chin gives her a slightly more careful hug, doubtless mindful that Danny will find new and creative ways of removing his spine if he even accidentally hurts his little girl. By the time Danny catches up to them Grace is standing right in front of Steve, staring up at him with a slightly perplexed look on her face. Steve bends a little and holds out his hand for her to shake.
"Hi, Grace, I'm Steve. I've heard a lot about you."
Grace doesn't move though, and to Danny's surprise her face breaks out into a smile, even though she still looks a little confused. "It's you," she exclaims. "It's you, only you're all grown up. How did you do that?"
Steve blinks, first at her, then shifts his gaze to Danny. "Um."
Grace turns to look at Danny. "Danno, look, it's Steve!"
"Yeah, I know, Monkey. You going to be polite and shake his hand now?"
She huffs impatiently in that way that only eight-year-old girls can manage. "No, Daddy, it's Steve. The boy from the beach!" she insists. "Remember? We built a sandcastle, and you lent him your swim trunks."
"Gracie, that's impossible. That Steve was a little boy and this..." It's Danny's turn to blink a little. He looks up at Steve, who's blushing, face turning bright red right to his ears, and that's when Danny sees the resemblance. "Huh."
Steve chews nervously on his lips. "Um..." he says again, and that's about all he appears to be able to manage. Kono rubs his arm reassuringly.
Danny glares. "You could have told me!"
Steve rubs the back of his neck. "Hey, it was nearly twenty-five years ago for me, cut me some slack. Besides, other stuff happened that day, you know?"
"Yeah, I remember," Danny nods.
Grace throws herself at Steve and wraps her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry about your Mommy, Uncle Steve."
Steve clears his throat, eyes suddenly bright, and Danny wonders if anyone ever actually said the words to him at all, all those years ago. "Um, thank you, Grace. It was a long time ago."
"Not that long," Grace counters, and Danny decides that's a very good moment to change the subject and distract his daughter with the promise of nachos, because he doesn't really want to explain about the time-travel thing that he doesn't even understand properly himself, to be honest.
Later, though, when the football game is in full swing and Kono is standing on the bleachers and screaming at the top of her lungs, Steve slides over to sit next to him. For a few moments he stares at his hands, clasped in his lap, obviously working up to something.
"I, uh, wanted to, you know, say thank you."
"For what?" Danny's a little startled. Whatever he was expecting Steve to say, it wasn't this.
"I didn't know it was you―on the beach, I mean. Or I would have said it earlier, I swear. It's just―everything from that day got a little blurry after the funeral. All I remember is that I was in my room, trying to fix my tie because my dad told me I had to look right for the funeral, and I couldn't manage it and was on the verge of crying or maybe throwing up, and I thought that maybe I could run away, just for a couple of days until I was sure I wouldn't have to attend the funeral. Then the next thing I knew I was in the water and getting knocked over by a wave, and I was twenty years in the future. You and Grace were the only good thing about that day, and―" he pauses, searching for his words, "what you said to me... it was important, you know? It stuck with me. My dad helped me fix my tie, taught me how to do it properly, and I went to my mother's funeral, and I've never been more grateful to anyone than I've been all my life to that man on the beach who told me I needed to go for me and my family, and not for my mother." He stops, clears his throat a little, his head turned a little away so he won't have to look Danny in the eyes, so Danny chucks him on the shoulder.
"Hey, no sweat. All I saw was a kid who'd lost his mom, you know? And even if I don't know what that's like, I've seen it enough to know about the important stuff. For what it's worth, I'm glad it helped."
Steve glances up at him through his lashes, obviously still embarrassed, but the set of his jaw is determined. "It did."
Danny flashes him a smile, then picks up the basket of nachos next to him. "You're welcome. Now, have some nachos. I know that Kono thinks being skinnier than a toothpick is a healthy way of life, but trust me, my mother raised me better than that. I'm going to put some meat on both your bones if it's the last thing I do."
Steve's face breaks into a grin that's all but blinding, and he obediently grabs a handful of nachos, hot cheese threatening to dribble down his fingers. "Danno, I do believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship."
~*~
November 24th, 2010: Kono is 26 Steve is 34
Steve has gone and come back again. She can tell just by looking at him, even if he wasn't in the process of trying to pull on his clothes again. He's pale and shaky, doesn't bother with more than his pants and a loose t-shirt before he heads right back to his father's old desk, rummaging for paper and a pen before he forgets everything he learned.
"Steve, you can't do this to yourself." It's almost pointless, but she has to try. She's losing him, inch by inch, piece by piece.
He's scribbling down notes as fast as he can manage, what looks like the transcript from the tape recorder that went missing along with his father's toolbox. It won't hold up in a court of law, but he's not letting that stop him.
"I don't have a choice," he says, not looking up.
He's slumped in his chair, propping up his head on his left hand as though it's too heavy to hold up on its own, sweating even though the evening has turned cool. She moves up behind him, slides a hand up to cup his forehead, and isn't surprised to find him burning to the touch.
"You can't keep going like this," she presses a kiss to the top of his head. "I know it's important, but you're going to kill yourself before we can ever see this through. It's late, come to bed."
"Just―just let me finish writing..." he stops, raises his head to look at her, his expression suddenly stricken. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, and he's gone again.
~*~
October 28th, 2001: Kono is 17, Steve is 34
Kono tells herself sometimes that she's not waiting for Steve to come back. She's not some helpless little girl whose entire existence revolves around one man whose comings and goings are predicted only by a little red notebook. She has never missed a meeting, though she has been tempted once or twice to simply not go, just to prove that she's not tethered to that tiny little cove, to the stretch of beach where Steve first taught her how to identify sea shells. She still has her collection, has whittled it down so that it fits in one medium-sized glass jar that sits on her desk in her room. Inside it are the brightest and most perfect of all the shells she ever collected, with the exception of one―the tiger cowrie that she found on their first walk together. She likes to keep the jar turned so that the shell is always in view, and sometimes she runs the tip of her index finger along the jar to mark where it is.
Today is a day like any other, she tells herself, though the bustle of the house belies her thoughts. It's nearly Christmas, and she plans to escape to the relative safety of the beach while her mother goes on a cleaning rampage, commandeering the help of her children and their cousins alike, heedless of any plans that might have previously existed. Christmas is a big deal in the Kalakaua household, and God help anyone who doesn't come when called into service. Kono slips out of the window, unwilling to risk being caught sneaking through the house, climbs out onto the overhanging roof and slides down the tree that grows next to the house. Inside she can hear her mother calling her name, but now that she's outside she's home free, and she finds herself skipping a little as she makes her way to the beach.
Steve is going to be there, she thinks, and that brings a bigger smile to her face, even though she thinks it shouldn't. According to the notebook he's been there for an hour, which means that even if she's off by a few minutes, she's definitely going to see him. She wonders how old he'll be, if he'll be younger or older than the last time he came, if he'll remember all their visits together or only a few, if he'll have that scar on his neck that he got sometime in the later 2000s though he won't tell her exactly when or how.
When she arrives in the inlet, though, Steve is nowhere to be seen. For a moment her heart skips uncomfortably in her chest, and she hurries down to the water's edge, breathes a sigh of relief when she sees a faded set of footprints dragging through the sand and up along the beach to the spot where she always hides the plastic bin in which she puts clothes for him, to keep them safe and dry. She runs back, following the tracks, and finds him sitting propped up against a palm tree, knees drawn up, his head resting on his folded arms. He's pulled on a pair of shorts but nothing else, and he's breathing hard, sweat dripping from his temples.
"Steve?"
His head jerks up at the sound of her voice, and he winces, squinting in the light even as the corners of his mouth curl into a small smile. "Hey."
"Hey yourself. What's wrong? You sick?"
He leans his head back against the tree. "Yeah. Just a fever, it's nothing to worry about."
She drops to a crouch next to him, presses a hand to his forehead the way her mother always does when she or one of her brothers and sisters is sick. It feels a little like pressing her hand against the outside of the oven when her mother's been baking. "You look terrible. You can't stay here, you'll make yourself worse."
"I just have to wait until I go back."
"But you don't know when that will be," she points out reasonably. "What if it's a week, like that one time?"
He shakes his head, and for the first time she wonders if, maybe, he's not in a position to be making decisions for himself for once. Then again, she can't exactly bring him home like this, not without causing a huge fuss. He's too sick to climb up into her room the way she does when she's sneaking in and out, and besides, if they're caught that way it will be a million times worse. A strange man in Kono's room is bound to make her mother hit the ceiling.
Steve has started to shiver, and that she can do something about. She rummages in the box, finds a shirt, and holds it out for him. "You need to at least put on some more layers. When it's dark, maybe we can sneak by my parents, but no way you're getting through the house in daylight, and I don't know where else to take you."
"It's fine," he mumbles. "I'll be fine."
"You sure?" Sometimes he knows, he's already traveled to the future and so he knows he's still there, still fine, but sometimes he's just going on faith. She knows this from countless similar conversations with him. "Did you see it?"
He coughs and shakes his head and shivers again, and she tucks her beach blanket over his shoulders and pulls it closer, pulls on his wrist insistently until he gets the message and grasps the blanket with a sheepish smile. She sits down next to him, and isn't really all that surprised when he lets her pull his head into her lap. It's uncomfortable, a rock poking into her thigh and the tree hard at her back, but Steve settles with a contented sigh as she strokes his hair, even though he must be even more uncomfortable than she is.
"Is this okay?" she asks softly.
"Better than okay," he reassures her, eyes closed, as though even keeping them open pains him.
"Were you sick before, or is this because you traveled?" For all she knows, it could be a symptom just like when he throws up or arrives so hungry he throws himself on whatever food she has handy. He's never had a fever before, though, and the thought that he might be sick enough to die scares her more than she wants to let on.
"Before. Fever made me come, I think," he murmurs. "Worried about my dad."
She keeps stroking his hair. "I heard stress can make you sick, and you said it makes you travel, so I guess it makes sense. How old are you now?"
"Thirty-four."
He's known her for five years, and she's known him for eleven. Give or take. Most times when she bothers to think about it at all, the math makes her head ache. "Were you with your wife?" she asks softly, and he nods against her thigh. "She'll be glad to have you back, I bet."
"Hmm." It sounds like agreement, but it could be anything, and Kono is suddenly horribly, viciously jealous of this woman that she doesn't even know, who gets to share his bed, who gets to talk to him without being constantly told that she's not allowed to know the things he knows. She glares down at the back of his head, but it's like being angry at the tide for going out when she doesn't want it to.
She sighs. "We need to find you some water and some Tylenol or something."
To her surprise he twists a little in her lap to smile up at her. "You always take such good care of me," he murmurs, and then he's gone, leaving her to hold nothing more than a beach blanket half-draped over her lap.
~*~
November 27thth, 2010: Kono is 26 Steve is 34
Steve is so busy trying to remember his father's words in order to transcribe them that he doesn't even hear the front doorbell ring. He's lost track of how long he's been sitting in the same position, one hand pressed to his forehead in a vain attempt to stave off the headache that's been building steadily behind his eyes for what feels like days now.
The first inkling he has that there are people in the house other than himself and Kono is when the sound of light footsteps pattering across the floor of his father's old office catches his attention, and the next thing he knows Grace Williams is flinging her arms around his waist.
"Hi, Uncle Steve!"
For a second he feels a flare of irritation as he loses track of what he was writing, but it's unfair to take it out on a little kid. For the first time he thinks he might feel genuine sympathy for his father when he almost lashed out at Mary when she was the same age. She's too small to understand what's happening, is only happy to see him, so he hugs her back, one-armed.
"Hey, sweetheart," his throat is dry, his voice hoarse even to his own ears, and Grace's expression is worried when she pulls back to look at him.
"You sick, Uncle Steve?"
He feels like death warmed over, but it's no use worrying her. "I'm okay, sweetie. Just lost track of the time."
There's a knock on the door, but Danny's already walking in without so much as being invited, smirking a little. "Uncle Steve is trying to be stoic, but there's no point, because Kono has already ratted you out." He moves Grace aside gently and wraps a hand around Steve's forehead in a gesture that's entirely paternal. "Kono wasn't exaggerating, I see. You're burning up, babe, and you're no good to anyone sick, no matter how much evidence you're bringing back to me. It's good intel, but it won't hold up in a court of law, so you can take a break."
Danny doesn't get it, as always. "I don't control it, Danny."
"Yeah, I know you don't, but what we can control, is whether or not you spend the time you're here resting and getting better. So I brought over supplies," he points to the doorway, where it looks like a grocery store might have vomited on his floor, along with a video store for good measure. "Kono will be joining us later, after she finishes doing whatever mysterious thing she needs to do to keep her mother happy. For now it's you, me and Monkey here. You're going to sit on your sofa and drink tea and ginger ale and soup and watch some parent-approved movies with Grace, and you will do absolutely nothing else, you hear me?"
"But―"
Danny steamrolls right over his protest. "But nothing. Gracie, Monkey, tell Uncle Steve what 'buts' are for."
Grace perks up. "'Butts' are for sitting," she informs him. "That's what Danno says."
He's too tired for this. "Is that what Danno says?"
"Mm-hmm," she nods. "I brought 'Finding Nemo.' It's my favourite movie, and Danno said you'd watch it with me."
"Not today, I can't," he tries again, turning back to his paper. "I have to finish." He can hear the desperate edge in his voice, and apparently so can Danny, because he ushers Grace out of the room with a promise to come find her soon.
"Babe," Danny lays a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the way Steve stiffens a bit under his touch this time. "Come on. Kono's worried and, frankly, I am too now that I'm seeing this up close. She says it's been getting worse, that you're time traveling every two or three days, that you're making yourself sick. You need to stop."
Steve leans forward to cradle his head in his hands, trying to will it to stop throbbing. "I can't. I can't, I don't know how," he says, and his voice cracks, eyes stinging mercilessly. "I keep going back, going around in circles. I want to stay and the more I want to stay the more I get pulled away, and Christ, I'm so tired, Danny."
Danny squeezes his shoulders, massages them with his thumbs a little. "I know you are. I can see it."
"And this," he picks up the pad of paper and drops it again in disgust, "this is the only thing that makes any of it worth it. It's the only thing I'm good for anymore. Something has to come of this, or what the hell am I suffering for?" he demands petulantly
"Okay," Danny's voice has an air of finality. "That's it. You're taking a break, and I'm forcing you. I will use my gun if I have to," he adds, but he's handing Steve a tissue so he can pull himself together before facing Grace again.
Danny shoves his hands under both of Steve's arms and bodily lifts him out of his chair once he,s calm. "You're losing weight," he says disapprovingly. "Taking after Kono is a bad idea. Girl's too skinny as it is. Come on, sofa, I'm not giving you a choice, here."
It's just easier to let himself be steered toward his own sofa and covered in a blanket. Grace curls up by his feet, clutching her stuffed rabbit to her chest and sipping at the straw of a juice box. Grape, judging by the colour of the box, Steve thinks muzzily.
"When you're feeling better, we should go back to the beach," Grace says, while Danny sets up the DVD player. "We should build another sand castle. Step-Stan bought me some specially-shaped pails, so we can make turrets and ramparts and things."
Steve makes a sound he hopes sounds like agreement. Right now the idea of going out in the sun is about as appealing as taking a bath in a vat of boiling oil. Grace doesn't seem especially satisfied, though, so he forces himself to sit up a little, even if it makes his head throb.
"Hey, you know who's really good at building sandcastles? Your Aunt Kono. She used to make them all the time when she was younger. She'd let me help, sometimes, but she's got real talent. You should ask her."
Grace isn't as excited by that revelation as he thought she'd be. "Does that mean you don't want to?"
Oh, Steve thinks. "No, that's not it. I just thought it would be fun for you. I'll come when I'm feeling better, okay? Promise."
"Okay."
Grace beams now that she has the answer she was looking for, then settles back in as the movie starts and Danny admonishes her to be quiet and let Steve get some rest. The movie itself is pretty, the colours and the movement of the animated ocean soothing. Before they're ten minutes in Steve can't keep his eyes open any longer and lets himself drift to sleep, lulled by the quiet music and the sound of voices.
He rouses a few times during the afternoon when Danny shakes him gently by the shoulder and feeds him pills and water, and he doesn't bother to question it, just swallows both and goes back to sleep. By the time Kono gets home in the early evening Grace is asleep on the other end of the sofa and Steve is feeling a little more human. She leans over the sofa, brushes her hand through his hair.
"You seem better."
"Hm."
"He was a model patient, surprisingly enough," Danny comments from where he's reclining in Steve's armchair. "Slept the whole time and didn't even argue."
Kono smiles indulgently at him. "So you're only stubborn with me? I don't know if I should be grateful Danny got you to see reason or have my feelings hurt."
Danny gets up, scoops up Grace into his arms. She sags against his shoulder, still half-asleep. "Right. I'll let the two of you sort that out. Kono, I'll see you at the office Monday, first thing. I want to follow up on some of those leads we thought went cold, see if we can't spark something again."
"Got it. See you Monday, Danny." She doesn't bother seeing them to the door, just perches next to him on the sofa, strokes his face again. "Honestly, are you better?"
He nods. "A little. Sorry if I worried you. I just―he's still out there. Hesse. And I need to know we're going to catch him." He wants to add before it's too late, but he doesn't want to see the look that will put on her face, and so he stays silent.
"We will," she assures him, her hand cool against his face, comforting. "I promise, we'll find this guy, and he'll pay for what he did. I promise."
~*~
December 4th, 2010: Steve is 34
Even though he should be used to it by now, every time Steve pops up unannounced (and, needless to say, naked as the day he was born) in his office, Danny very nearly has a heart attack. One of these days, he thinks sourly, waiting for his pulse to return to normal, he will have an infarction, and then Steve will have to perform CPR and it will all get very messy. He's about to point this out to Steve when he sees that the guy looks like he's about to pass out, or at the very least fall over.
"Whoa, Steve, hey," he's up and out of his chair in a flash, grabbing Steve's arm just as his knees buckle, and easing him into a chair. He's taken to keeping a robe alongside his spare clothes, because for some reason Steve seems to view his office as a pit stop while racking up his frequent flyer time-travel miles, and he grabs it now in order to tuck it over him. "You sick again? I thought you were better."
"I'm fine," Steve manages, but it's not especially convincing, given how badly he's shivering.
"You and I have different definitions of 'fine,' my friend. You okay? You feel like throwing up or anything?"
"Nothing left to throw up," Steve says a little miserably, and damn if that doesn't break Danny's heart a little. "Be fine. Kono's waiting at home."
Kono is actually right here in the office, but Danny figures Steve must be talking about the Kono that belongs in this Steve's present, and the whole quantum mechanics thing gives him a headache anyway. Steve's still talking, he realises with a start.
"What?"
"Tomorrow," Steve repeats, teeth chattering. "I'm violating every law of physics, here, but I don't care, so long as you arrest Victor Hesse. He'll be here tomorrow, and that's when you'll get him."
And then, true to form, he vanishes, leaving Danny alone with a nigh-unusable piece of intel.
~*~
December 6th, 2010: Steve is 34, Kono is 26
Steve wakes up to the sound of Kono crying quietly in the bed next to him. He pushes himself up on one elbow, testing his own boundaries carefully, and is more than a little elated to find that, for the first time in weeks he doesn't feel like death warmed over. The feeling is short-lived, though, because Kono is hastily trying to cuff the tears out of her eyes and giving him a watery smile.
He sits up entirely, slides over to sit behind her, sliding his arms around her. "Hey," he says, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck even though he hasn't shaved yet and is sporting more than a little stubble. She doesn't complain, though. "What's wrong?"
"I think it happened yesterday," she says quietly. "I heard a shot, and none of us fired, so it had to be him when we didn't have eyes on him."
She's talking about Hesse, who's behind bars now. Apparently Steve told them where to find him, but he doesn't know how he finds out yet. All he knows is that two days ago he landed in Danny's office again and told them they'd find Hesse the next day. Danny isn't one to let a lead go by without at least following it to see if if goes anywhere, and that's how all of Five-0 found themselves down by the docks, tipped off partially by Steve's hint but mostly by reports from various criminal informants that a human trafficking operation was centred there, and that the odds were good that Victor Hesse would be using their services to get himself smuggled off the island and away from the long arm of the law.
Five-0 descended on the docks like the wrath of God, and Victor Hesse was caught. Steve remembers the moments right before, has them etched into his memory. At night he dreams of Victor Hesse's face, hears his voice ringing out, high and shrill and terrified, and even though he thinks that it might make him a terrible person, the memory fills him with satisfaction.
Kono is still talking, her voice a soft monotone. "By the time we caught him he was spouting gibberish about a man who couldn't be killed and apologising over and over, like he had all the demons in hell after him. Were you there? Was it you?" her voice cracks.
He tightens his hold on her shoulders. "Don't cry," he tells her, smooths her hair with one hand. "I was there. I kicked him in the face. I think I sprained my toes."
She laughs, a sad huff of air, but her eyes are filled with hope. "Is that when you came back limping a few weeks ago?"
He nods. "Yeah. Man has a hard head."
This time she throws her head back, and her laugh is genuine and full of mirth.
~*~
December 31st, 2010: Steve is 34
"You know, your friends will still love you if everything isn't perfect," Steve feels compelled to remind Kono when he catches her trimming the edges of the front doormat. "Seriously, no one will notice the doormats."
"That's not the point," she straightens up, still on her knees, and brandishes the scissors at him menacingly. "It's the New Year, so the place has to be clean. You start the year the way you mean to go on, after all."
He sighs. He should know better by now, he's been through this with her countless times, both in the present and when her mother was driving her crazy as a little girl with this exact same obsession.
"You're going to shiv me if I mention your mother, right?"
"Don't tempt me," she mutters darkly, and gets up in order to stalk into the kitchen to check on the hors d'oeuvres.
Not for the first time he's tempted to tell her to leave the damned things to burn, to come and spend these last few hours with him, but it's not fair to either of them. No matter which way he looks at it, it's not fair, and selfishly he'd rather watch her bustle around their kitchen and obsess over whether every corner of the house has been dusted, rather than face her tears.
He gives her time to pull the hors d'oeuvres out of the oven, comes up behind her and grabs her by the waist. "Enough," he says in her ear, and that, luckily, sets her giggling. "It can wait. No one will be here for hours."
She turns her head so he can catch her bottom lip in his teeth, just for a moment. "Is that so?"
"It is."
He spins her easily, crowds her against the wall by the window, their mouths finding each other of a common accord. There's no finesse to their movements, but no real hurry either as she pulls down the loose jeans he's been wearing all morning and he undoes the button of her shorts and tugs them off until they've pooled around her ankles. She kicks them aside, lets him lift her bodily off the ground, slides easily onto his dick with the smallest hitch of breath, eyes slamming shut at the sensation. He fucks her slowly against the wall, and she locks her ankles at the small of his back, helping him to bear her weight a little, as if she ever weighed more than a feather to him.
Steve pulls his head back a little, determined to remember every single last second of this, to memorise every outline of her face, her body under his hands. He's concentrating so hard on her that his orgasm takes him almost entirely by surprise, rushing through him and making his whole body tingle like a jolt of electricity going right down to the soles of his feet. Kono follows him over the edge a moment later with a moan, fingers digging into his shoulders, and for a few moments they stay like that, poised as though waiting for something ineffable still to come.
Kono laughs gently, wipes a stray drop of sweat from his face. "Okay, hot stuff. Now we need a shower before the guests get here. You coming with me?"
He grins. "I thought you'd never ask."
~*~
December 31st, 2010: Steve is 34
It doesn't take long after the guests arrive for the party to be in full swing. Kono is in her element, as usual, moving between groups of people, chattering happily, surrounded by her friends and her family. It's the one thing he's never been able to entirely give her―Steve just doesn't have that in him, and it's his one true regret. That, and never truly being able to talk to his father.
Danny is the one to come find him sitting on the beach a little further out from the lanai. "Thought we lost you for a second," he says, handing Steve a Longboard. "But then I figured you'd be out here, being antisocial as usual."
"Yeah," Steve takes the beer, rolls the bottle between his palms. "Listen, Danno, while you're here... I wanted to say, you know, thank you. For everything. I never... shit, I'm not god at this sort of thing," he chokes a little, and Danny claps a hand on his shoulder.
"You already hit the sauce, McGarrett? You're sounding awfully maudlin for this early in the proceedings." His words are joking, but Steve can feel the tension in his voice. He knows, Steve thinks, he already knows. "What are you saying, Steve?"
"I'm saying I'm pretty sure this is it."
"When?"
"Soon."
"How soon?"
"I don't know," Steve lies. Very, very soon. "Anyway, I wanted you to know... I know I've been a pain in the ass every now and then..." Danny lets out a chuckle, because isn't that the understatement of the year? "But it's been great. I don't―before Kono, and you and Gracie―I never had much of a family after Mom died, and you gave me that, and I can't ever tell you how much it meant to me." He stops, because if he says one more word he's going to burst into tears, and he doesn't know how to even begin to deal with that.
Danny clears his throat. "Hey, c'mere you goof," he says roughly, and pulls Steve into a quick, fierce hug. Steve half-stifles a sob that threatens to tear him in two, takes a couple of deep breaths to hold himself together. "You want to come inside, or you want me to get Kono?"
He nods against Danny's shoulder. "I think you should hurry."
Steve doesn't notice the time go by before Kono comes flying out of the house, drops to her knees in the sand next to him. "Where were you?" she asks in a small voice.
"I was here. Kono, I―"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He shrugs helplessly. "It's already happened."
He doesn't look at her, knows she's crying. He doesn't want her to cry.
The world fades away, is replaced almost immediately with the sounds and smells of the docks. He's naked, standing by a shipping container. About two hundred yards away, another, younger version of himself is about to appear next to another shipping container. He can hear the already-familiar sound of gunshots, of shouting in the distance, and he steps out from behind his shelter, almost directly into the path of Victor Hesse as he comes hurtling around the corner. They don't collide this time (Steve is expecting this) but the extra distance gives Hesse more than enough time to bring his weapon to bear―more a reflex than a deliberate motion―and for a second Steve almost imagines he can see the bullet spinning slowly through the air at him, imagines he can see his name carefully etched into the casing. Before he can stop it, Kono's name spills from his lips.
"Oh my God," he hears Hesse say, just before the world melts away again.
He's staring at himself, framed by the morning sky. He looks worried, he thinks, and frightened, and very young. He's trying to be reassuring, and it's cute, in a way. He barely remembers being that naïve. Steve chokes on a mouthful of blood. He wants to tell them it's all right, but it hurts so much more than he ever thought it would, he doesn't know if he's making any sense. Any second now, he tells himself, and he'll be going back to Kono. When he feels the world start to fade again, a smile creeps over his face.
December 31st, 2010: Steve is 34
Kono loses track of Steve over the course of the party, in spite of her attempts to keep her eyes on him at all times. Her stomach keeps twisting with anxiety, with the need to keep Steve close, keep him safe, keep him home, above all. She tries, and she still fails, and it's only when Danny comes to get her that she realizes just how how badly she's failed.
She cradles Steve in her lap, uses both hands to keep his head from lolling to the side. He's smiling at her, teeth coated in blood, and he's murmuring over and over, like a mantra: "It's okay, Kono, don't cry. Don't cry. It's okay." And she ignores him and cries anyway.
She can feel people crowding up behind her, hears Chin calling for an ambulance on his cell phone, but it all sounds like the distant crash of waves on the shore. Steve's heels are scrabbling uselessly against the sand, he's choking on his own blood, coughing and gasping now, and there's nothing okay about this, nothing okay about being surrounded by everyone she loves and still be able to do nothing about the fact that Steve is dying in her arms. She bends over as far as she can, kisses his mouth, heedless of the blood frothing at the corners of his lips.
"Why did you let me?" she asks, and he understands that she wants to know why they couldn't have this last moment alone, just the two of them, without all these people around. He's never been good with people.
His mouth works soundlessly for a moment, until he's able to pull in just enough breath to talk. "Didn't want you to be alone. After. Kono... love you."
"Steve!"
He's gone, gone the way he never has been, even when she had no idea where he was or when he'd be back. He's warm in her arms, staring sightlessly past her, up at the low-hanging stars. His hand falls away from the wound in his stomach, pitifully small for what it is, the damage it's wrought. Somewhere down the beach, fireworks go off, whistling high into the night sky. She kisses him again, feels a small, hysterical laugh bubble up in her chest.
"Happy New Year, Steve."
EPILOGUE
October 4th, 2014: Steve is 34, Kono is 30
"Uncle Steve!"
Grace is running pell-mell toward him, her feet kicking up a spray of sand behind her. She throws herself into his embrace, wraps her arms around his neck.
"You came back!"
He hugs her, hard. "God, you've grown. Look at you, you're a young lady now."
She is, too. She's grown so tall he barely recognises her. Gone is the little girl obsessed with rabbits, replaced by a self-possessed teenager in a bathing suit that must have given her father a stroke the first time he laid eyes on it.
"Are you staying?" she asks, and her eyes are suddenly bright with tears.
He shakes his head. "No, sweetheart. I'll have to go back soon."
Just over her head he can see Danny hurrying along the beach toward them, blond hair bleached almost white by the sun. He puts a hand on his daughter's shoulder when he reaches them. "Go tell Aunt Kono that Uncle Steve is here, Monkey, would you? Run as fast as you can."
She takes off, and Steve smiles after her. "She's growing up so fast, I can barely believe it. What's the date, Danno?"
"It's 2014. October 4th."
Steve nods. "I see. Is Kono here?"
"Yeah, she's been coming to the beach with us," Danny says, a little hoarsely. He's never been one to hide his emotions, and when he steps forward Steve lets him drag him into a rough hug, and doesn't even tease him for having to rise up a bit on his toes to get his arms properly around Steve's shoulders.
When Danny lets go Steve looks back along the beach, scanning the horizon for Kono. "Is she―how is she?"
"She's holding up. We all are. She misses you."
"I know. Nothing I can do about that, though."
In the distance, he spots Kono running along the beach, hair streaming out behind her where it's come loose from its ponytail. She's wearing the same yellow bikini she's owned for years―or maybe she finally got a new one to replace it, he can't tell from this distance―and she's covering the ground as easily as when he first started running with her to help her train for the Academy. She throws herself into his arms as unselfconsciously as Grace, then locks their lips together in a kiss that has as much hunger and desperation to it as it does love and longing. He kisses her back, tastes salt on both their lips, and for a moment can't tell which of them is crying.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she murmurs against his mouth. "I would have been here."
He pulls back a bit, shakes his head. "I don't want you to spend the rest of your life waiting. You deserve more than that. I want you to be happy."
She buries her face in his shoulder, allows herself a single sob. "You knew. You asshole, you knew all along, and you never said."
Steve strokes her hair. "I know, I'm sorry. But it can't be any other way. You're going to be fine, love. You're going to be fine, I promise."
"Don't go. Stay, please. Please, don't go."
He kisses her again. "I have to, I'm sorry. If I could stay, I would. You know I would."
When he goes, the last thing he hears is the sound of her crying.
~*~
December 31st, 2071: Steve is 32, Kono is 87
She's still living in the same house, after all these years. He was half-afraid she wouldn't be here, that he wouldn't have enough time to look up her name, to track her down, but in the end she was exactly where he knew he would find her. Steve is wearing a ridiculous combination of oversized jeans shorts and a polka-dot t-shirt he found on someone's laundry line, and he rather suspects that the t-shirt was cut for a woman while the jeans are designed for a very overweight man. Beggars can't be choosers, he reminds himself for what feels like the millionth time.
The spare key is still in the same hiding spot under the lanai, but it turns out he needn't have bothered to look for it, because the front door is unlocked, and creaks a little when he pushes it open. The house has changed on the inside. Some of the furniture is the same, the paint on the walls has changed, as have some of the pictures. There are photographs of himself here and there, and Mary and their father, and pictures of Kono through the years, and other people he doesn't recognise. He pauses to look at all the photographs, sees Kono as she grows older in all of them, feels his blood run just a little colder when he realises that his own age doesn't seem to change all that much, that he and Kono were always young when they remembered to turn and smile for the camera.
The scent of pork wafts across the entire house from the kitchen, and he follows the smell of cooking to find Kono with her back to the door, humming under her breath as she stirs something in a pot on the stove. Her hair has gone snow white, and is pulled up into a bun at the nape of her neck, and she's wearing a long dress of faded yellow linen. She's aged, but there is no mistaking her.
She turns as he steps into the kitchen, and her face lights up, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and Steve's heart leaps into his mouth at the sight, because she's here and she's happy, and there is no sight more welcome to him than this.
"It took you long enough," she says teasingly, and she's light as a feather when he pulls her into his arms to kiss her.
"When did I die?"
"A long time ago," she traces the outline of his face, her expression sad but not regretful, he doesn't think. "You never said a word, either. You said you didn't want me to spend my whole life waiting, and so I didn't. You told me I would be fine, and you were right. But I do miss you, in-between visits. I always miss you."
He doesn't know what to say to that, just swallows painfully in an attempt to rid himself of the lump in his throat. She takes pity on him, kisses his forehead before she speaks again.
"Nothing has ever truly been able to keep us apart, you know. Not even time itself."
END
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December 5th, 2010: Steve is 34
Steve comes to lying curled up, naked and shivering, next to what he thinks might be a shipping container, his stomach gurgling horribly. He barely has time to push himself up onto his hands and knees before he's throwing up a stomachful of bile that burns his nose and throat and only serves to make him even more wretched. He coughs, dry-heaves, spits in a vain attempt to clear the taste out of his mouth.
He staggers to his feet, gingerly steps around the puddle of vomit, dragging the back of his wrist over his mouth. It's the middle of the day, the sun high in the sky, but cool enough that he thinks it might be winter, still.
A gun goes off in the near distance, and Steve freezes in place. The sound of yelling reaches his ears, and instinctively he shrinks back against the container, trying to shield himself.
"Five-0, freeze!" someone bellows, and he realizes with a start that it's Danny William's voice he's hearing, barking orders with the easy confidence of leadership. "Chin, Kono, go around! He won't get far!"
There's silence for what feels like an eternity, then another voice yells out: "Kono!" just as another gunshot splits the air.
He can't stay here, he'll be discovered. Steve takes off at a run away from the voices, bare feet pounding on the asphalt, only to hear―far too late―the sound of approaching footsteps at a dead run. He rounds a corner, collides headlong with a warm shape running the opposite way. He reels, years of practice allowing him to keep his balance, while the other figure sprawls face-first on the ground. A pistol skitters away across the pavement, and there's a muffled curse from the man at Steve's feet.
The man looks up even as Steve feels his own heart lurch painfully in his chest when he recognizes him. "Hesse!"
Victor Hesse's face drains of colour, eyes going impossibly wide. "No," he breathes. "It can't be. You're dead! I just saw you die!"
Steve's throat is closing up, his stomach twisting itself into a brand-new knot, but he manages to take a step forward and kick the man who murdered his father in the face, as hard as he can manage.
"I'm not dead yet, you son of a bitch!" he snarls, and then the world slips away again.
~*~
August 23rd, 2010: Steve is 34
Just when Danny thought that Hawaii couldn't get any weirder than it already was, Kono's boyfriend turns up in his office unannounced less than a month after their first two quasi-disastrous meetings. Unannounced and, what's more, dressed only in his birthday suit.
"What the ever-loving fuck!"
Steve does have the decency to make an attempt to cover up even as Danny whips his head aside and holds up a file folder to shield his eyes. "Uh, hey, Danny."
"Hey, Danny?" Danny sputters, springing to his feet. "How did you even get here? More importantly, why are you not wearing any clothes, you psycho?" he jabs a finger in Steve's general direction. "Okay, wait. Don't. Move."
He always keeps a spare set of clothes in the office, ever since one truly disastrous Hallowe'en shift in '02. Even if his pants won't fit McGarrett, his boxers and shirt will do, so he hands them over to a grateful-looking Steve.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. My questions still stand. What the ever-loving fuck?"
Steve clears his throat uncomfortably. "Okay, before I get into the really complicated reasons I'm here, I, uh, I need to... I have some of the evidence that was stolen."
"You're insane. You are stark naked in my office, how do you―"
"Danny!" Steve says urgently. "I don't know how long I have. Lend me a pad and a pen, please, now!"
And, God help him, Danny obliges him. Steve spends the next few minutes scribbling down what looks like a series of kid's drawings. When he's done, he pushes the pad over to Danny as if it's the answer to life, the universe and everything, but it means nothing at all to Danny.
"What is that?"
"It's a cipher," Steve says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You ever read Sherlock Holmes? It's from one of the stories. My dad was obsessed with them, he used to read them to me and Mary all the time when we were kids. I wrote down the key for you, too."
This has gone on long enough. Danny moves up quietly, carefully, mindful of the fact that this guy used to be a member of the kapu and is therefore probably just as dangerous as he looks, and puts a hand on Steve's arm.
"You realise you're not making any sense, right? Come on, have a seat and let me call someone, okay? I can get Kono in here, if you want, or else I'll drive you to the hospital myself."
Steve drops into the closest chair, eyes closing as though he's exhausted, but he shakes his head. "It's okay, I won't be here much longer, I don't think. Here's the thing, Danny: I travel in time. I don't have the time to explain it to you now, but Kono can fill you in. Or, hey, what day is it?"
"It's Monday."
"What's the date? The year?"
"It's August 23rd, 2010. Steve, did you take something?" That might explain his pallor, the sheen of sweat on his face, the confusion about the time.
Steve grins tiredly and shakes his head again. "I'm at home, right now. Tell you what, why don't you call me and ask for an explanation?"
"You're messing with me."
"Humour me, Danno."
"What did I tell you about calling me that?" Danny snaps in spite of himself, then relents and picks up the phone. "Fine, I will humour you, you lunatic, but only until Kono gets here."
He can see her through the glass window of his office, hurrying toward them once she's spotted Steve in nothing but a pair of borrowed boxers. The phone rings once, twice, until someone picks up, and a man's voice answers.
"Hello?" It's Steve.
For a second Danny is speechless, then he recovers enough to squeak. "Steve?"
"Yes? Who is this?"
"It's Danny Williams. How―is this a joke?"
Steve is smirking at him, arms folded over his chest. The Steve-voice in his ear asks: "What do you mean, Danny?"
"Who is this really, and when I figure out what you and Steve are playing at, I will have you both arrested for obstruction of justice!"
"Oh," the Steve-voice answers. "Am I there, then? Did I tell you about the time-travel yet?"
"This isn't funny," Danny snaps, feeling his blood begin to boil. He's going to rip Steve a new one for starters, and then he's going to strongly suggest Kono get herself some better taste in men. His train of thought never goes any further, though, because the next thing he knows the Steve sitting right in front of him vanishes, melts right into thin air under his nose. "Oh my God."
Kono pokes her head into his office just as the now-empty boxers slither to the floor. She looks sheepish. "Um, I guess maybe now might be a good time to explain this?"
~*~
September 15th, 2010: Steve is 34, Kono is 26
Danny isn't entirely sure he wants to go out to a football game with Kono's crazy time-traveling boyfriend. The guy attracts trouble like shit attracts flies, but Kono adores him, and since Danny likes Kono he found himself agreeing to it. Besides, Chin will be there too, and this is one of those times that can be viewed as a team-building exercise, which is always a good thing. It's his weekend with Grace, and she's fairly wriggling with excitement, wearing a brand-new sundress that her mother got her for the occasion. She's the one who spots the group first and waves frantically, standing on her tiptoes.
"Look, Danno, there they are! Auntie Kono! Auntie Kono, we're over here!" she keeps waving until Danny honestly begins to worry that she's going to dislocate her shoulder.
He lets her run ahead of him a few paces to greet them ('Not too far, honey! Stay where I can see you.') and she throws herself into Kono's arms to give her a hug, only to be lifted clear off the ground with a terrified shriek of delight as Kono spins her around three hundred and sixty degrees, skinny legs flailing. Chin gives her a slightly more careful hug, doubtless mindful that Danny will find new and creative ways of removing his spine if he even accidentally hurts his little girl. By the time Danny catches up to them Grace is standing right in front of Steve, staring up at him with a slightly perplexed look on her face. Steve bends a little and holds out his hand for her to shake.
"Hi, Grace, I'm Steve. I've heard a lot about you."
Grace doesn't move though, and to Danny's surprise her face breaks out into a smile, even though she still looks a little confused. "It's you," she exclaims. "It's you, only you're all grown up. How did you do that?"
Steve blinks, first at her, then shifts his gaze to Danny. "Um."
Grace turns to look at Danny. "Danno, look, it's Steve!"
"Yeah, I know, Monkey. You going to be polite and shake his hand now?"
She huffs impatiently in that way that only eight-year-old girls can manage. "No, Daddy, it's Steve. The boy from the beach!" she insists. "Remember? We built a sandcastle, and you lent him your swim trunks."
"Gracie, that's impossible. That Steve was a little boy and this..." It's Danny's turn to blink a little. He looks up at Steve, who's blushing, face turning bright red right to his ears, and that's when Danny sees the resemblance. "Huh."
Steve chews nervously on his lips. "Um..." he says again, and that's about all he appears to be able to manage. Kono rubs his arm reassuringly.
Danny glares. "You could have told me!"
Steve rubs the back of his neck. "Hey, it was nearly twenty-five years ago for me, cut me some slack. Besides, other stuff happened that day, you know?"
"Yeah, I remember," Danny nods.
Grace throws herself at Steve and wraps her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry about your Mommy, Uncle Steve."
Steve clears his throat, eyes suddenly bright, and Danny wonders if anyone ever actually said the words to him at all, all those years ago. "Um, thank you, Grace. It was a long time ago."
"Not that long," Grace counters, and Danny decides that's a very good moment to change the subject and distract his daughter with the promise of nachos, because he doesn't really want to explain about the time-travel thing that he doesn't even understand properly himself, to be honest.
Later, though, when the football game is in full swing and Kono is standing on the bleachers and screaming at the top of her lungs, Steve slides over to sit next to him. For a few moments he stares at his hands, clasped in his lap, obviously working up to something.
"I, uh, wanted to, you know, say thank you."
"For what?" Danny's a little startled. Whatever he was expecting Steve to say, it wasn't this.
"I didn't know it was you―on the beach, I mean. Or I would have said it earlier, I swear. It's just―everything from that day got a little blurry after the funeral. All I remember is that I was in my room, trying to fix my tie because my dad told me I had to look right for the funeral, and I couldn't manage it and was on the verge of crying or maybe throwing up, and I thought that maybe I could run away, just for a couple of days until I was sure I wouldn't have to attend the funeral. Then the next thing I knew I was in the water and getting knocked over by a wave, and I was twenty years in the future. You and Grace were the only good thing about that day, and―" he pauses, searching for his words, "what you said to me... it was important, you know? It stuck with me. My dad helped me fix my tie, taught me how to do it properly, and I went to my mother's funeral, and I've never been more grateful to anyone than I've been all my life to that man on the beach who told me I needed to go for me and my family, and not for my mother." He stops, clears his throat a little, his head turned a little away so he won't have to look Danny in the eyes, so Danny chucks him on the shoulder.
"Hey, no sweat. All I saw was a kid who'd lost his mom, you know? And even if I don't know what that's like, I've seen it enough to know about the important stuff. For what it's worth, I'm glad it helped."
Steve glances up at him through his lashes, obviously still embarrassed, but the set of his jaw is determined. "It did."
Danny flashes him a smile, then picks up the basket of nachos next to him. "You're welcome. Now, have some nachos. I know that Kono thinks being skinnier than a toothpick is a healthy way of life, but trust me, my mother raised me better than that. I'm going to put some meat on both your bones if it's the last thing I do."
Steve's face breaks into a grin that's all but blinding, and he obediently grabs a handful of nachos, hot cheese threatening to dribble down his fingers. "Danno, I do believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship."
~*~
November 24th, 2010: Kono is 26 Steve is 34
Steve has gone and come back again. She can tell just by looking at him, even if he wasn't in the process of trying to pull on his clothes again. He's pale and shaky, doesn't bother with more than his pants and a loose t-shirt before he heads right back to his father's old desk, rummaging for paper and a pen before he forgets everything he learned.
"Steve, you can't do this to yourself." It's almost pointless, but she has to try. She's losing him, inch by inch, piece by piece.
He's scribbling down notes as fast as he can manage, what looks like the transcript from the tape recorder that went missing along with his father's toolbox. It won't hold up in a court of law, but he's not letting that stop him.
"I don't have a choice," he says, not looking up.
He's slumped in his chair, propping up his head on his left hand as though it's too heavy to hold up on its own, sweating even though the evening has turned cool. She moves up behind him, slides a hand up to cup his forehead, and isn't surprised to find him burning to the touch.
"You can't keep going like this," she presses a kiss to the top of his head. "I know it's important, but you're going to kill yourself before we can ever see this through. It's late, come to bed."
"Just―just let me finish writing..." he stops, raises his head to look at her, his expression suddenly stricken. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, and he's gone again.
~*~
October 28th, 2001: Kono is 17, Steve is 34
Kono tells herself sometimes that she's not waiting for Steve to come back. She's not some helpless little girl whose entire existence revolves around one man whose comings and goings are predicted only by a little red notebook. She has never missed a meeting, though she has been tempted once or twice to simply not go, just to prove that she's not tethered to that tiny little cove, to the stretch of beach where Steve first taught her how to identify sea shells. She still has her collection, has whittled it down so that it fits in one medium-sized glass jar that sits on her desk in her room. Inside it are the brightest and most perfect of all the shells she ever collected, with the exception of one―the tiger cowrie that she found on their first walk together. She likes to keep the jar turned so that the shell is always in view, and sometimes she runs the tip of her index finger along the jar to mark where it is.
Today is a day like any other, she tells herself, though the bustle of the house belies her thoughts. It's nearly Christmas, and she plans to escape to the relative safety of the beach while her mother goes on a cleaning rampage, commandeering the help of her children and their cousins alike, heedless of any plans that might have previously existed. Christmas is a big deal in the Kalakaua household, and God help anyone who doesn't come when called into service. Kono slips out of the window, unwilling to risk being caught sneaking through the house, climbs out onto the overhanging roof and slides down the tree that grows next to the house. Inside she can hear her mother calling her name, but now that she's outside she's home free, and she finds herself skipping a little as she makes her way to the beach.
Steve is going to be there, she thinks, and that brings a bigger smile to her face, even though she thinks it shouldn't. According to the notebook he's been there for an hour, which means that even if she's off by a few minutes, she's definitely going to see him. She wonders how old he'll be, if he'll be younger or older than the last time he came, if he'll remember all their visits together or only a few, if he'll have that scar on his neck that he got sometime in the later 2000s though he won't tell her exactly when or how.
When she arrives in the inlet, though, Steve is nowhere to be seen. For a moment her heart skips uncomfortably in her chest, and she hurries down to the water's edge, breathes a sigh of relief when she sees a faded set of footprints dragging through the sand and up along the beach to the spot where she always hides the plastic bin in which she puts clothes for him, to keep them safe and dry. She runs back, following the tracks, and finds him sitting propped up against a palm tree, knees drawn up, his head resting on his folded arms. He's pulled on a pair of shorts but nothing else, and he's breathing hard, sweat dripping from his temples.
"Steve?"
His head jerks up at the sound of her voice, and he winces, squinting in the light even as the corners of his mouth curl into a small smile. "Hey."
"Hey yourself. What's wrong? You sick?"
He leans his head back against the tree. "Yeah. Just a fever, it's nothing to worry about."
She drops to a crouch next to him, presses a hand to his forehead the way her mother always does when she or one of her brothers and sisters is sick. It feels a little like pressing her hand against the outside of the oven when her mother's been baking. "You look terrible. You can't stay here, you'll make yourself worse."
"I just have to wait until I go back."
"But you don't know when that will be," she points out reasonably. "What if it's a week, like that one time?"
He shakes his head, and for the first time she wonders if, maybe, he's not in a position to be making decisions for himself for once. Then again, she can't exactly bring him home like this, not without causing a huge fuss. He's too sick to climb up into her room the way she does when she's sneaking in and out, and besides, if they're caught that way it will be a million times worse. A strange man in Kono's room is bound to make her mother hit the ceiling.
Steve has started to shiver, and that she can do something about. She rummages in the box, finds a shirt, and holds it out for him. "You need to at least put on some more layers. When it's dark, maybe we can sneak by my parents, but no way you're getting through the house in daylight, and I don't know where else to take you."
"It's fine," he mumbles. "I'll be fine."
"You sure?" Sometimes he knows, he's already traveled to the future and so he knows he's still there, still fine, but sometimes he's just going on faith. She knows this from countless similar conversations with him. "Did you see it?"
He coughs and shakes his head and shivers again, and she tucks her beach blanket over his shoulders and pulls it closer, pulls on his wrist insistently until he gets the message and grasps the blanket with a sheepish smile. She sits down next to him, and isn't really all that surprised when he lets her pull his head into her lap. It's uncomfortable, a rock poking into her thigh and the tree hard at her back, but Steve settles with a contented sigh as she strokes his hair, even though he must be even more uncomfortable than she is.
"Is this okay?" she asks softly.
"Better than okay," he reassures her, eyes closed, as though even keeping them open pains him.
"Were you sick before, or is this because you traveled?" For all she knows, it could be a symptom just like when he throws up or arrives so hungry he throws himself on whatever food she has handy. He's never had a fever before, though, and the thought that he might be sick enough to die scares her more than she wants to let on.
"Before. Fever made me come, I think," he murmurs. "Worried about my dad."
She keeps stroking his hair. "I heard stress can make you sick, and you said it makes you travel, so I guess it makes sense. How old are you now?"
"Thirty-four."
He's known her for five years, and she's known him for eleven. Give or take. Most times when she bothers to think about it at all, the math makes her head ache. "Were you with your wife?" she asks softly, and he nods against her thigh. "She'll be glad to have you back, I bet."
"Hmm." It sounds like agreement, but it could be anything, and Kono is suddenly horribly, viciously jealous of this woman that she doesn't even know, who gets to share his bed, who gets to talk to him without being constantly told that she's not allowed to know the things he knows. She glares down at the back of his head, but it's like being angry at the tide for going out when she doesn't want it to.
She sighs. "We need to find you some water and some Tylenol or something."
To her surprise he twists a little in her lap to smile up at her. "You always take such good care of me," he murmurs, and then he's gone, leaving her to hold nothing more than a beach blanket half-draped over her lap.
~*~
November 27thth, 2010: Kono is 26 Steve is 34
Steve is so busy trying to remember his father's words in order to transcribe them that he doesn't even hear the front doorbell ring. He's lost track of how long he's been sitting in the same position, one hand pressed to his forehead in a vain attempt to stave off the headache that's been building steadily behind his eyes for what feels like days now.
The first inkling he has that there are people in the house other than himself and Kono is when the sound of light footsteps pattering across the floor of his father's old office catches his attention, and the next thing he knows Grace Williams is flinging her arms around his waist.
"Hi, Uncle Steve!"
For a second he feels a flare of irritation as he loses track of what he was writing, but it's unfair to take it out on a little kid. For the first time he thinks he might feel genuine sympathy for his father when he almost lashed out at Mary when she was the same age. She's too small to understand what's happening, is only happy to see him, so he hugs her back, one-armed.
"Hey, sweetheart," his throat is dry, his voice hoarse even to his own ears, and Grace's expression is worried when she pulls back to look at him.
"You sick, Uncle Steve?"
He feels like death warmed over, but it's no use worrying her. "I'm okay, sweetie. Just lost track of the time."
There's a knock on the door, but Danny's already walking in without so much as being invited, smirking a little. "Uncle Steve is trying to be stoic, but there's no point, because Kono has already ratted you out." He moves Grace aside gently and wraps a hand around Steve's forehead in a gesture that's entirely paternal. "Kono wasn't exaggerating, I see. You're burning up, babe, and you're no good to anyone sick, no matter how much evidence you're bringing back to me. It's good intel, but it won't hold up in a court of law, so you can take a break."
Danny doesn't get it, as always. "I don't control it, Danny."
"Yeah, I know you don't, but what we can control, is whether or not you spend the time you're here resting and getting better. So I brought over supplies," he points to the doorway, where it looks like a grocery store might have vomited on his floor, along with a video store for good measure. "Kono will be joining us later, after she finishes doing whatever mysterious thing she needs to do to keep her mother happy. For now it's you, me and Monkey here. You're going to sit on your sofa and drink tea and ginger ale and soup and watch some parent-approved movies with Grace, and you will do absolutely nothing else, you hear me?"
"But―"
Danny steamrolls right over his protest. "But nothing. Gracie, Monkey, tell Uncle Steve what 'buts' are for."
Grace perks up. "'Butts' are for sitting," she informs him. "That's what Danno says."
He's too tired for this. "Is that what Danno says?"
"Mm-hmm," she nods. "I brought 'Finding Nemo.' It's my favourite movie, and Danno said you'd watch it with me."
"Not today, I can't," he tries again, turning back to his paper. "I have to finish." He can hear the desperate edge in his voice, and apparently so can Danny, because he ushers Grace out of the room with a promise to come find her soon.
"Babe," Danny lays a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the way Steve stiffens a bit under his touch this time. "Come on. Kono's worried and, frankly, I am too now that I'm seeing this up close. She says it's been getting worse, that you're time traveling every two or three days, that you're making yourself sick. You need to stop."
Steve leans forward to cradle his head in his hands, trying to will it to stop throbbing. "I can't. I can't, I don't know how," he says, and his voice cracks, eyes stinging mercilessly. "I keep going back, going around in circles. I want to stay and the more I want to stay the more I get pulled away, and Christ, I'm so tired, Danny."
Danny squeezes his shoulders, massages them with his thumbs a little. "I know you are. I can see it."
"And this," he picks up the pad of paper and drops it again in disgust, "this is the only thing that makes any of it worth it. It's the only thing I'm good for anymore. Something has to come of this, or what the hell am I suffering for?" he demands petulantly
"Okay," Danny's voice has an air of finality. "That's it. You're taking a break, and I'm forcing you. I will use my gun if I have to," he adds, but he's handing Steve a tissue so he can pull himself together before facing Grace again.
Danny shoves his hands under both of Steve's arms and bodily lifts him out of his chair once he,s calm. "You're losing weight," he says disapprovingly. "Taking after Kono is a bad idea. Girl's too skinny as it is. Come on, sofa, I'm not giving you a choice, here."
It's just easier to let himself be steered toward his own sofa and covered in a blanket. Grace curls up by his feet, clutching her stuffed rabbit to her chest and sipping at the straw of a juice box. Grape, judging by the colour of the box, Steve thinks muzzily.
"When you're feeling better, we should go back to the beach," Grace says, while Danny sets up the DVD player. "We should build another sand castle. Step-Stan bought me some specially-shaped pails, so we can make turrets and ramparts and things."
Steve makes a sound he hopes sounds like agreement. Right now the idea of going out in the sun is about as appealing as taking a bath in a vat of boiling oil. Grace doesn't seem especially satisfied, though, so he forces himself to sit up a little, even if it makes his head throb.
"Hey, you know who's really good at building sandcastles? Your Aunt Kono. She used to make them all the time when she was younger. She'd let me help, sometimes, but she's got real talent. You should ask her."
Grace isn't as excited by that revelation as he thought she'd be. "Does that mean you don't want to?"
Oh, Steve thinks. "No, that's not it. I just thought it would be fun for you. I'll come when I'm feeling better, okay? Promise."
"Okay."
Grace beams now that she has the answer she was looking for, then settles back in as the movie starts and Danny admonishes her to be quiet and let Steve get some rest. The movie itself is pretty, the colours and the movement of the animated ocean soothing. Before they're ten minutes in Steve can't keep his eyes open any longer and lets himself drift to sleep, lulled by the quiet music and the sound of voices.
He rouses a few times during the afternoon when Danny shakes him gently by the shoulder and feeds him pills and water, and he doesn't bother to question it, just swallows both and goes back to sleep. By the time Kono gets home in the early evening Grace is asleep on the other end of the sofa and Steve is feeling a little more human. She leans over the sofa, brushes her hand through his hair.
"You seem better."
"Hm."
"He was a model patient, surprisingly enough," Danny comments from where he's reclining in Steve's armchair. "Slept the whole time and didn't even argue."
Kono smiles indulgently at him. "So you're only stubborn with me? I don't know if I should be grateful Danny got you to see reason or have my feelings hurt."
Danny gets up, scoops up Grace into his arms. She sags against his shoulder, still half-asleep. "Right. I'll let the two of you sort that out. Kono, I'll see you at the office Monday, first thing. I want to follow up on some of those leads we thought went cold, see if we can't spark something again."
"Got it. See you Monday, Danny." She doesn't bother seeing them to the door, just perches next to him on the sofa, strokes his face again. "Honestly, are you better?"
He nods. "A little. Sorry if I worried you. I just―he's still out there. Hesse. And I need to know we're going to catch him." He wants to add before it's too late, but he doesn't want to see the look that will put on her face, and so he stays silent.
"We will," she assures him, her hand cool against his face, comforting. "I promise, we'll find this guy, and he'll pay for what he did. I promise."
~*~
December 4th, 2010: Steve is 34
Even though he should be used to it by now, every time Steve pops up unannounced (and, needless to say, naked as the day he was born) in his office, Danny very nearly has a heart attack. One of these days, he thinks sourly, waiting for his pulse to return to normal, he will have an infarction, and then Steve will have to perform CPR and it will all get very messy. He's about to point this out to Steve when he sees that the guy looks like he's about to pass out, or at the very least fall over.
"Whoa, Steve, hey," he's up and out of his chair in a flash, grabbing Steve's arm just as his knees buckle, and easing him into a chair. He's taken to keeping a robe alongside his spare clothes, because for some reason Steve seems to view his office as a pit stop while racking up his frequent flyer time-travel miles, and he grabs it now in order to tuck it over him. "You sick again? I thought you were better."
"I'm fine," Steve manages, but it's not especially convincing, given how badly he's shivering.
"You and I have different definitions of 'fine,' my friend. You okay? You feel like throwing up or anything?"
"Nothing left to throw up," Steve says a little miserably, and damn if that doesn't break Danny's heart a little. "Be fine. Kono's waiting at home."
Kono is actually right here in the office, but Danny figures Steve must be talking about the Kono that belongs in this Steve's present, and the whole quantum mechanics thing gives him a headache anyway. Steve's still talking, he realises with a start.
"What?"
"Tomorrow," Steve repeats, teeth chattering. "I'm violating every law of physics, here, but I don't care, so long as you arrest Victor Hesse. He'll be here tomorrow, and that's when you'll get him."
And then, true to form, he vanishes, leaving Danny alone with a nigh-unusable piece of intel.
~*~
December 6th, 2010: Steve is 34, Kono is 26
Steve wakes up to the sound of Kono crying quietly in the bed next to him. He pushes himself up on one elbow, testing his own boundaries carefully, and is more than a little elated to find that, for the first time in weeks he doesn't feel like death warmed over. The feeling is short-lived, though, because Kono is hastily trying to cuff the tears out of her eyes and giving him a watery smile.
He sits up entirely, slides over to sit behind her, sliding his arms around her. "Hey," he says, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck even though he hasn't shaved yet and is sporting more than a little stubble. She doesn't complain, though. "What's wrong?"
"I think it happened yesterday," she says quietly. "I heard a shot, and none of us fired, so it had to be him when we didn't have eyes on him."
She's talking about Hesse, who's behind bars now. Apparently Steve told them where to find him, but he doesn't know how he finds out yet. All he knows is that two days ago he landed in Danny's office again and told them they'd find Hesse the next day. Danny isn't one to let a lead go by without at least following it to see if if goes anywhere, and that's how all of Five-0 found themselves down by the docks, tipped off partially by Steve's hint but mostly by reports from various criminal informants that a human trafficking operation was centred there, and that the odds were good that Victor Hesse would be using their services to get himself smuggled off the island and away from the long arm of the law.
Five-0 descended on the docks like the wrath of God, and Victor Hesse was caught. Steve remembers the moments right before, has them etched into his memory. At night he dreams of Victor Hesse's face, hears his voice ringing out, high and shrill and terrified, and even though he thinks that it might make him a terrible person, the memory fills him with satisfaction.
Kono is still talking, her voice a soft monotone. "By the time we caught him he was spouting gibberish about a man who couldn't be killed and apologising over and over, like he had all the demons in hell after him. Were you there? Was it you?" her voice cracks.
He tightens his hold on her shoulders. "Don't cry," he tells her, smooths her hair with one hand. "I was there. I kicked him in the face. I think I sprained my toes."
She laughs, a sad huff of air, but her eyes are filled with hope. "Is that when you came back limping a few weeks ago?"
He nods. "Yeah. Man has a hard head."
This time she throws her head back, and her laugh is genuine and full of mirth.
~*~
December 31st, 2010: Steve is 34
"You know, your friends will still love you if everything isn't perfect," Steve feels compelled to remind Kono when he catches her trimming the edges of the front doormat. "Seriously, no one will notice the doormats."
"That's not the point," she straightens up, still on her knees, and brandishes the scissors at him menacingly. "It's the New Year, so the place has to be clean. You start the year the way you mean to go on, after all."
He sighs. He should know better by now, he's been through this with her countless times, both in the present and when her mother was driving her crazy as a little girl with this exact same obsession.
"You're going to shiv me if I mention your mother, right?"
"Don't tempt me," she mutters darkly, and gets up in order to stalk into the kitchen to check on the hors d'oeuvres.
Not for the first time he's tempted to tell her to leave the damned things to burn, to come and spend these last few hours with him, but it's not fair to either of them. No matter which way he looks at it, it's not fair, and selfishly he'd rather watch her bustle around their kitchen and obsess over whether every corner of the house has been dusted, rather than face her tears.
He gives her time to pull the hors d'oeuvres out of the oven, comes up behind her and grabs her by the waist. "Enough," he says in her ear, and that, luckily, sets her giggling. "It can wait. No one will be here for hours."
She turns her head so he can catch her bottom lip in his teeth, just for a moment. "Is that so?"
"It is."
He spins her easily, crowds her against the wall by the window, their mouths finding each other of a common accord. There's no finesse to their movements, but no real hurry either as she pulls down the loose jeans he's been wearing all morning and he undoes the button of her shorts and tugs them off until they've pooled around her ankles. She kicks them aside, lets him lift her bodily off the ground, slides easily onto his dick with the smallest hitch of breath, eyes slamming shut at the sensation. He fucks her slowly against the wall, and she locks her ankles at the small of his back, helping him to bear her weight a little, as if she ever weighed more than a feather to him.
Steve pulls his head back a little, determined to remember every single last second of this, to memorise every outline of her face, her body under his hands. He's concentrating so hard on her that his orgasm takes him almost entirely by surprise, rushing through him and making his whole body tingle like a jolt of electricity going right down to the soles of his feet. Kono follows him over the edge a moment later with a moan, fingers digging into his shoulders, and for a few moments they stay like that, poised as though waiting for something ineffable still to come.
Kono laughs gently, wipes a stray drop of sweat from his face. "Okay, hot stuff. Now we need a shower before the guests get here. You coming with me?"
He grins. "I thought you'd never ask."
~*~
December 31st, 2010: Steve is 34
It doesn't take long after the guests arrive for the party to be in full swing. Kono is in her element, as usual, moving between groups of people, chattering happily, surrounded by her friends and her family. It's the one thing he's never been able to entirely give her―Steve just doesn't have that in him, and it's his one true regret. That, and never truly being able to talk to his father.
Danny is the one to come find him sitting on the beach a little further out from the lanai. "Thought we lost you for a second," he says, handing Steve a Longboard. "But then I figured you'd be out here, being antisocial as usual."
"Yeah," Steve takes the beer, rolls the bottle between his palms. "Listen, Danno, while you're here... I wanted to say, you know, thank you. For everything. I never... shit, I'm not god at this sort of thing," he chokes a little, and Danny claps a hand on his shoulder.
"You already hit the sauce, McGarrett? You're sounding awfully maudlin for this early in the proceedings." His words are joking, but Steve can feel the tension in his voice. He knows, Steve thinks, he already knows. "What are you saying, Steve?"
"I'm saying I'm pretty sure this is it."
"When?"
"Soon."
"How soon?"
"I don't know," Steve lies. Very, very soon. "Anyway, I wanted you to know... I know I've been a pain in the ass every now and then..." Danny lets out a chuckle, because isn't that the understatement of the year? "But it's been great. I don't―before Kono, and you and Gracie―I never had much of a family after Mom died, and you gave me that, and I can't ever tell you how much it meant to me." He stops, because if he says one more word he's going to burst into tears, and he doesn't know how to even begin to deal with that.
Danny clears his throat. "Hey, c'mere you goof," he says roughly, and pulls Steve into a quick, fierce hug. Steve half-stifles a sob that threatens to tear him in two, takes a couple of deep breaths to hold himself together. "You want to come inside, or you want me to get Kono?"
He nods against Danny's shoulder. "I think you should hurry."
Steve doesn't notice the time go by before Kono comes flying out of the house, drops to her knees in the sand next to him. "Where were you?" she asks in a small voice.
"I was here. Kono, I―"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He shrugs helplessly. "It's already happened."
He doesn't look at her, knows she's crying. He doesn't want her to cry.
The world fades away, is replaced almost immediately with the sounds and smells of the docks. He's naked, standing by a shipping container. About two hundred yards away, another, younger version of himself is about to appear next to another shipping container. He can hear the already-familiar sound of gunshots, of shouting in the distance, and he steps out from behind his shelter, almost directly into the path of Victor Hesse as he comes hurtling around the corner. They don't collide this time (Steve is expecting this) but the extra distance gives Hesse more than enough time to bring his weapon to bear―more a reflex than a deliberate motion―and for a second Steve almost imagines he can see the bullet spinning slowly through the air at him, imagines he can see his name carefully etched into the casing. Before he can stop it, Kono's name spills from his lips.
"Oh my God," he hears Hesse say, just before the world melts away again.
He's staring at himself, framed by the morning sky. He looks worried, he thinks, and frightened, and very young. He's trying to be reassuring, and it's cute, in a way. He barely remembers being that naïve. Steve chokes on a mouthful of blood. He wants to tell them it's all right, but it hurts so much more than he ever thought it would, he doesn't know if he's making any sense. Any second now, he tells himself, and he'll be going back to Kono. When he feels the world start to fade again, a smile creeps over his face.
December 31st, 2010: Steve is 34
Kono loses track of Steve over the course of the party, in spite of her attempts to keep her eyes on him at all times. Her stomach keeps twisting with anxiety, with the need to keep Steve close, keep him safe, keep him home, above all. She tries, and she still fails, and it's only when Danny comes to get her that she realizes just how how badly she's failed.
She cradles Steve in her lap, uses both hands to keep his head from lolling to the side. He's smiling at her, teeth coated in blood, and he's murmuring over and over, like a mantra: "It's okay, Kono, don't cry. Don't cry. It's okay." And she ignores him and cries anyway.
She can feel people crowding up behind her, hears Chin calling for an ambulance on his cell phone, but it all sounds like the distant crash of waves on the shore. Steve's heels are scrabbling uselessly against the sand, he's choking on his own blood, coughing and gasping now, and there's nothing okay about this, nothing okay about being surrounded by everyone she loves and still be able to do nothing about the fact that Steve is dying in her arms. She bends over as far as she can, kisses his mouth, heedless of the blood frothing at the corners of his lips.
"Why did you let me?" she asks, and he understands that she wants to know why they couldn't have this last moment alone, just the two of them, without all these people around. He's never been good with people.
His mouth works soundlessly for a moment, until he's able to pull in just enough breath to talk. "Didn't want you to be alone. After. Kono... love you."
"Steve!"
He's gone, gone the way he never has been, even when she had no idea where he was or when he'd be back. He's warm in her arms, staring sightlessly past her, up at the low-hanging stars. His hand falls away from the wound in his stomach, pitifully small for what it is, the damage it's wrought. Somewhere down the beach, fireworks go off, whistling high into the night sky. She kisses him again, feels a small, hysterical laugh bubble up in her chest.
"Happy New Year, Steve."
EPILOGUE
October 4th, 2014: Steve is 34, Kono is 30
"Uncle Steve!"
Grace is running pell-mell toward him, her feet kicking up a spray of sand behind her. She throws herself into his embrace, wraps her arms around his neck.
"You came back!"
He hugs her, hard. "God, you've grown. Look at you, you're a young lady now."
She is, too. She's grown so tall he barely recognises her. Gone is the little girl obsessed with rabbits, replaced by a self-possessed teenager in a bathing suit that must have given her father a stroke the first time he laid eyes on it.
"Are you staying?" she asks, and her eyes are suddenly bright with tears.
He shakes his head. "No, sweetheart. I'll have to go back soon."
Just over her head he can see Danny hurrying along the beach toward them, blond hair bleached almost white by the sun. He puts a hand on his daughter's shoulder when he reaches them. "Go tell Aunt Kono that Uncle Steve is here, Monkey, would you? Run as fast as you can."
She takes off, and Steve smiles after her. "She's growing up so fast, I can barely believe it. What's the date, Danno?"
"It's 2014. October 4th."
Steve nods. "I see. Is Kono here?"
"Yeah, she's been coming to the beach with us," Danny says, a little hoarsely. He's never been one to hide his emotions, and when he steps forward Steve lets him drag him into a rough hug, and doesn't even tease him for having to rise up a bit on his toes to get his arms properly around Steve's shoulders.
When Danny lets go Steve looks back along the beach, scanning the horizon for Kono. "Is she―how is she?"
"She's holding up. We all are. She misses you."
"I know. Nothing I can do about that, though."
In the distance, he spots Kono running along the beach, hair streaming out behind her where it's come loose from its ponytail. She's wearing the same yellow bikini she's owned for years―or maybe she finally got a new one to replace it, he can't tell from this distance―and she's covering the ground as easily as when he first started running with her to help her train for the Academy. She throws herself into his arms as unselfconsciously as Grace, then locks their lips together in a kiss that has as much hunger and desperation to it as it does love and longing. He kisses her back, tastes salt on both their lips, and for a moment can't tell which of them is crying.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she murmurs against his mouth. "I would have been here."
He pulls back a bit, shakes his head. "I don't want you to spend the rest of your life waiting. You deserve more than that. I want you to be happy."
She buries her face in his shoulder, allows herself a single sob. "You knew. You asshole, you knew all along, and you never said."
Steve strokes her hair. "I know, I'm sorry. But it can't be any other way. You're going to be fine, love. You're going to be fine, I promise."
"Don't go. Stay, please. Please, don't go."
He kisses her again. "I have to, I'm sorry. If I could stay, I would. You know I would."
When he goes, the last thing he hears is the sound of her crying.
~*~
December 31st, 2071: Steve is 32, Kono is 87
She's still living in the same house, after all these years. He was half-afraid she wouldn't be here, that he wouldn't have enough time to look up her name, to track her down, but in the end she was exactly where he knew he would find her. Steve is wearing a ridiculous combination of oversized jeans shorts and a polka-dot t-shirt he found on someone's laundry line, and he rather suspects that the t-shirt was cut for a woman while the jeans are designed for a very overweight man. Beggars can't be choosers, he reminds himself for what feels like the millionth time.
The spare key is still in the same hiding spot under the lanai, but it turns out he needn't have bothered to look for it, because the front door is unlocked, and creaks a little when he pushes it open. The house has changed on the inside. Some of the furniture is the same, the paint on the walls has changed, as have some of the pictures. There are photographs of himself here and there, and Mary and their father, and pictures of Kono through the years, and other people he doesn't recognise. He pauses to look at all the photographs, sees Kono as she grows older in all of them, feels his blood run just a little colder when he realises that his own age doesn't seem to change all that much, that he and Kono were always young when they remembered to turn and smile for the camera.
The scent of pork wafts across the entire house from the kitchen, and he follows the smell of cooking to find Kono with her back to the door, humming under her breath as she stirs something in a pot on the stove. Her hair has gone snow white, and is pulled up into a bun at the nape of her neck, and she's wearing a long dress of faded yellow linen. She's aged, but there is no mistaking her.
She turns as he steps into the kitchen, and her face lights up, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and Steve's heart leaps into his mouth at the sight, because she's here and she's happy, and there is no sight more welcome to him than this.
"It took you long enough," she says teasingly, and she's light as a feather when he pulls her into his arms to kiss her.
"When did I die?"
"A long time ago," she traces the outline of his face, her expression sad but not regretful, he doesn't think. "You never said a word, either. You said you didn't want me to spend my whole life waiting, and so I didn't. You told me I would be fine, and you were right. But I do miss you, in-between visits. I always miss you."
He doesn't know what to say to that, just swallows painfully in an attempt to rid himself of the lump in his throat. She takes pity on him, kisses his forehead before she speaks again.
"Nothing has ever truly been able to keep us apart, you know. Not even time itself."
END
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