EPILOGUE TO:
A
SHORT WALK ON THE
LONG WALK ON A SHORT PIER
by
G M
Surging
fear rippled just below control surface as Dan Williams sped the LTD across the
wide stretch of sand toward the small beach shack. The HPD surveillance team
had initially lost track of the car transporting the abducted McGarrett. So Dan
ordered a tail on Nick Gentry. Only moments ago the HPD chopper had spotted
Nick's car near the shack. Williams had ordered a silent approach to sneak up
on the isolated building. There was no hope of a surprise attack and no time
for negotiations. A frontal assault would have to do.
He
fully expected to find McGarrett's dead body in the shack. Steve, literally, in
the old gangster sense of the phrase, was 'taken for a ride.' Gentry and thugs
were onto him and obviously they took Steve and Frankie to the shack for
executions. Dan could not comprehend the thought that Steve was dead, yet,
neither could he conjure up enough hope to think of how Steve's life was
spared.
As
the car skidded and slid to a halt in the sand, Williams leaped out, revolver
drawn. He crashed through the door, splintering the wood, relying on faith that
the HPD men just behind him were fast enough to provide a back-up. He was not
waiting for safety measures. His single, urgent thought was to get to
McGarrett.
To
his astonishment, Dan saw Nick prone, apparently dead, on the floor of the
cabin. McGarrett seemed okay. He sat against the wall holding an obviously
deceased Frankie in his arms. For a stunned moment Williams remained rooted in
his shooting stance. Then he broke from his shocked relief and checked Nick for
a pulse. Several HPD officers crowded around and he issued orders for them to
tend to the dead. Dan moved over to kneel next to Steve.
"You
all right?" he asked as he holstered his gun.
"Yeah,"
McGarrett replied slowly. His voice was hoarse. His eyes were watery. "I
couldn't save her," McGarrett whispered more to himself than to anyone. It
was a plaintive regret filled with remorse and pity.
Dan
was unsure of the source of emotions. Was Steve relieved and humbled that he
was still, miraculously, alive? Was he upset at Frankie's death? The
speculation allowed Dan's initial relief and gratitude at McGarrett's well
being to be swept aside. A wave of subsurface anger ruptured his thin control.
Steve's comment about Frankie only fueled Dan's anger: anger at McGarrett for
going undercover alone, anger that Steve had not provided adequate back up and
had come so close to death. It was inexcusable for the head of Five-0 to put
his life on the line so cavalierly. Contact procedures were deplorable and he
should have told the team what was going on so they could protect him.
The
secrecy was the piercing cut deepest for Dan. That Steve did not trust him
enough to divulge the undercover assignment was wounding. Then, after Steve was
apprehended, had nearly broken Dan's jaw resisting arrest, Steve compounded his
crime by going back out on the street, against Dan's strong advice, and still
not accepting help.
The
combination of betrayal and fear for Steve's safety had driven Dan to the brink
of desperation. He had mobilized Five-0 and selected HPD men to the sole job of
tracking McGarrett. Even with the extra manpower it had been a near disaster
because of McGarrett's lack of cooperation. If it had been one of the
detectives out in the cold instead of the boss, heads would have rolled for the
lax, even sloppy, mission. Then, to find Steve safe but bemoaning the death of
a washed up junkie was too much.
"Better
her than you," was Dan's uncharacteristically acid retort. "You're
lucky to be alive."
McGarrett
stabbed him with iced blue eyes, cold with the spark of anger. "She was a
victim, Danno," he snapped.
"She
was a junkie," Williams flung back vehemently.
There
was much more he wanted to say, but this was not the time or place to vent his
frustrations and grievances. Yes, Frankie was a victim, but of her own weaknesses.
By the time Steve had come on the scene she was already one foot in the grave
and not worth the risk of McGarrett's life. Dan was acutely aware of the other
officers in the room. He restrained any further comments to avoid a family
dispute in public. This was between Steve and him and they would have to work
it out when they both had cooler heads.
"Come
on," he offered, calmly. He put his full compassion and understanding into
his tone. "It's all pau here, Steve. I'll take you home."
He
gestured for an officer to come and take Frankie. For a brief moment McGarrett
was resistant. Then he relented and released the body. Dan held out a helping
hand. McGarrett seized on and let Dan help him. Without further comment they
left the shack.
* *
*
It
was early evening when McGarrett entered the Five-0 offices. It was a bit
strange to be back -- almost as if he had never left. His undercover assignment
seemed like a bad dream. He wished it had been.
In
the beginning the masquerade had seemed right and justified: Work with the
Feds, go undercover in complete secrecy, even from his guys, to nail Nick
Gentry on murder one and keep the mobs from taking over the Honolulu docks.
Things had become complicated with his involvement with Frankie, then the
infamous run-in with Danno in the alley off
After
the rescue at the beach shack he had gone home, showered, shaved -- including
the mustache -- and taken a brief nap. He was too keyed up to rest well and
could think of nowhere else to go but to come to the office. This was his home;
his refuge. This was where he could recover from the sour memories. He was not
sure what he would do here but he knew this was where he needed to come to
restore himself.
The
secretaries had gone home and the offices were strangely silent. Only Chin was
in one of the cubicles of the outer office.
"Steve!"
the Chinaman greeted happily when McGarrett poked his head into the small
office.
"Hi,
Chin. Everybody else call it a day?"
"No."
Kelly smiled a bit ironically, as if surprised at the thought of the detectives
going home at a reasonable hour. He took several minutes just to assess
McGarrett's condition. "Sure good to have you back, boss. We weren't sure
you would make it. Sounds like it was pretty close."
"Yeah,
it was. Thanks, Chin."
The
scrutiny embarrassed Steve. From this reaction he realized how worried Chin had
been. A concern obviously shared by Duke and especially Dan. Until now it had
been a reaction taken for granted. Recently he had taken too many things for
granted. Of course his guys would be worried. He was worried whenever one of
them went undercover, but this time was more intense. He also knew from his
brief arrest, when he had been able to talk with Duke in the interrogation
room, that his guys had also felt betrayed. Duke had been honest and had not
softened any remarks about the undercover fiasco. At the time, Steve had been
too wrapped up in the assignment to worry about the opinions of his guys. Now,
from this perspective, things were very different and he regretted the way he'd
handled the operation. It had been a mistake to exclude his people. He thought
of Dan's reaction, beyond the punch, and knew Dan was more worried than angry.
Again, a vital clue to Williams' state of mind, which McGarrett had ignored.
These three detectives were too valuable, too close as friends to be taken for
granted. Steve knew he had a lot to make up for.
While
he was undercover it had seemed justified. All along he felt the deception was worth
the risk because secrecy was so important. Now, it did not seem right at all.
His action seemed like a dishonest, sneaky crime. Never feeling this guilty
about case decisions before this remorse was probably because he knew now his
guys deserved better than what he had given them. Never before had he
considered the ends to justify the means why had he thought it would be
acceptable this time? He had been wrong. Looking at Chin, he knew that with an
impact that he had never experienced before.
"Danny
and Duke are at HPD," Kelly explained. "We didn't expect you back
tonight."
"I
didn't want to stay at home," he admitted. He gave a nod toward his
office. "Come in and fill me in."
It
felt good to settle into his chair behind his familiar desk. This was far away
from the mean streets of
This
detective, the head of Five-0, was the real Steve McGarrett, not the Lone
Ranger crusader out to right all wrongs. He knew those times were past him, not
part of who he was anymore. No longer did he need to prove himself on the
streets.
As
the discussion with Chin progressed, Steve felt remarkably better about the
bitter experience. He had slipped back into the working groove with ease.
Tomorrow morning he could come in and take up the caseloads, at least, without
missing a beat. The emotional angle would take time, but they WOULD sort it all
out, he assured himself. On that positive thought he told Chin to go home and
take the next morning off. Everyone had been working hard in his absence and he
was feeling generous. He would not admit, even to himself, that the reward was
also to cover any lingering guilt he felt at his actions.
"I'll
be happy to sleep in, boss, but I think Danny needs the time off more than I
do. He's been pushing himself since you've been gone." Kelly paused a
moment, as if unsure what to say, then with obvious resolve, plunged ahead.
"You know we were all worried about you, boss, but Danny was really upset
over this whole secrecy business. Even more than he let on to us, I
think."
McGarrett
forced himself not to flinch at the mention of Dan's name. There was a lot he
had to account for and most of it to Danno. The secrecy was something that had
hurt Dan, he had seen that in the surprise meet in the alley. Later, Dan's
obstructive, concerned attitude corroborated the theory. Williams felt betrayed
by Steve, and that hurt worse than anything else McGarrett possibly could have
done. The more Steve thought about it the more he knew he would have to make
this up to Dan. If he didn't, there would be a lingering guilt on his part, and
a lingering disappointment on Danno's. Their
friendship was too precious a commodity to be damaged by pride or neglect.
"I
know," McGarrett confirmed "I'm sorry I put you all through
this."
Chin
nodded, "Steve, I think Danny deserves the apology more than me."
"Don't
worry, I'll make it up to Danno," he promised. He didn't know how he would
fulfill that promise, but he would.
The
outer door slammed shut and through his doorway he saw Dan and Duke coursing
toward them.
"Steve!"
Dan called out. "What are you doing here?"
"Couldn't
keep away," he responded lightly.
"Glad
you made it back in one piece," was Duke's heartfelt greeting accompanied
by a warm handshake.
McGarrett's
hand, injured when he had delivered the numbing punch to Williams, stung from the
shake. Steve gritted his teeth, determined not to reveal the pain. Emotionally
moved at the open display of concern and welcome, he did not want to rebuff his
friend's warm welcome. He fell back on an easy cliché.
"Good
to be back, Duke," he said sincerely.
Looking
to Dan for additional comments, he was met with a guarded, unreadable stare. It
was the first time in a long while he was unable to decipher Williams thoughts
from his colleague's usually scrutible expression.
"You
could have taken a day off for once," Williams commented and sounded as if
it were a preference.
Nonplused
at what he interpreted as a rebuff, Steve was uncertain how to respond. So he
did not. Fortunately Duke stepped into the sudden chasm.
"You
look worn out, Steve. We can handle things here."
"I'll
drop you home if you want," Dan offered. This time the expression was
readable -- it was a concerned compromise.
Affronted
and defensive at Dan's seemingly censuring attitude, McGarrett bristled at the
suggestion. "I'll stay awhile."
Williams'
expression hardened. With a curt nod of acknowledgment, he nodded. "Fine.
" Drawing in a deep breath, he appeared on the brink of saying more, then
released the air in a long, low hiss. "The I guess I'll see you in the
morning," he finished. For a moment he paused, searching McGarrett's face.
After a moment of mute conflict, he left. The following silence was so complete
his footfalls were audible until he was through a closed door and to the stairs
in the center of the Palace.
"You
want some advice, boss?" Chin asked.
"Not
especially," was the honest reply as Steve slumped into his chair.
"Danny
isn't going to just forget about this."
"He's
been through a lot, Steve," was Duke's more tactful reminder.
Guarded,
McGarrett sourly replied, "We all have, Duke." It came out sounding
more self pitying than he had intended. In truth, he was feeling sorry for
himself and Williams' lack of sympathy surprised him, bruised his ego.
"Look, I'm sorry I ducked out on you guys," Steve snapped defensively.
"But it's over, we need to put it behind us."
McGarrett's
irritation was hard to maintain under the expressions of regret from his
detectives. Duke summed it up for them all. "You're right, Steve, but it's
going to take some time."
McGarrett
advised Duke and Chin to call it a night. Both raised immediate objections, but
McGarrett forcefully overruled them. As the two detectives were leaving
McGarrett stopped them at the door. "I'm sorry about this whole
mess," he repeated quietly. "I want to get past it." His
detectives accepted and agreed with the apology, but between the three of them
was the unspoken comment that the words were really meant for the missing
member of the team.
* *
*
There
was no response to his knocks, so McGarrett used his key to enter Williams'
apartment. No one was home and a cursory search revealed the usually neat
officer had strewn his clothes on the bedroom floor. Since Dan's cars were in
the garage, McGarrett assumed his friend had probably gone for a late night swim.
McGarrett left the apartment and walked just down the street. Steve was well
known to the bouncer at the door and was admitted without question to the King Kamehameha Club where Williams swam or surfed at the club's
private beach.
As
McGarrett walked from the surf-crusted sand of the waterline, to the beach-side
bar of the club, he saw his hunch had been right on target. Williams, still
dripping from a swim, slouched at a table on the lanai facing the dark ocean. A
towel draped around his neck; beer in hand, feet propped on a chair, Williams'
gave the impression of a man without a care in the world. Only the pensive
expression on the youthful features belayed that false image.
"Mind
if I join you?" Steve asked quietly when he reached the table.
Startled,
Williams' feet slid off the chair and beer splashed onto his trunks and bare
legs. "Steve!" He straightened. "I thought you were staying at
the office?"
"I
decided to join you instead." He sat down in a chair opposite his
colleague.
"You
really are the best detective on the rock," was Dan's rueful complement as
he wiped the liquor from his legs.
"I
know you like to swim here at night."
Williams
waved at the bartender. "Hey, Keoki, bring a
coffee and another beer," he ordered without consultation. Glancing back
at McGarrett he said, "Sometimes I wonder why you bother with your condo.
You're never there long enough to get your money's worth."
McGarrett
shrugged noncommittally as the order was brought.
"So
what really brings you to the moana?" was Dan's
next question.
"You've
got some things on your mind." McGarrett strove for a neutral, easy tone.
Although his nerves were tight with anticipation of the coming
confrontation/conference, he wanted to present an accessible front to Williams.
If he seemed too resistant Dan would probably just close up and simmer in
silence. Lately there had been too much miscommunication and deception. For the
sake of their working status and their friendship he did not want that to
happen. "I wanted to know what they were."
Williams
levelly looked him in the eyes for a moment, as if assessing the mood.
"You won't like what I have to say."
"Still,
if it's important enough to bother you so much, I need to hear it whether I
like it or not."
A mirthless
smirk twitched at Dan's mouth. "Don't take this wrong, Steve, but you
aren't known for taking well to --"
"Criticism?"
McGarrett supplied blandly.
Dan
pondered the semantics. "Observations. Opinions." For several moments
he spun his bottle on the table, pondering.
"You're
mad at me," Steve anticipated, impatient to get on with the discussion.
"You don't have to beat around the bush. I'm sorry about what happened,
Danno, but I guess that probably doesn't cover it."
The
statement hit a bullseye because Dan glanced up and
there was an incandescent blue-hot fire in his eyes. "It doesn't even come
close," he assured with an edge. "I hardly know where to begin. So
it's probably better that I don't even try!" The latent anger quickly came
to the surface with heat and intensity.
The
last statement was loud enough to attract the attention of other patrons.
Irritated at the poor timing and location, McGarrett tightly suggested they
take the discussion elsewhere. With a correspondingly curt nod Williams agreed.
The
stretch of beach beyond the bar was empty. It was late, close to closing time,
and the club had few members enjoying the ocean facilities that night. Faintly
illuminated by the lights from the bar, and the moonlight, the surf edge was
the path mutually chosen for their rambling discussion. The water lapped upon
the sand; undulating ribbons of shimmery liquid
against the dark beach. The detectives walked in silence for a time.
Still
on edge from their previous exchanges, when McGarrett spoke he went right for
the crux of the conflict. "You're mad about the punch in the alley, aren't
you? It was the only way . . . " His voice trailed off when he noted
Williams had stopped walking.
"You
think that's what I'm hung up about?" came Dan's incredulous response. He
paced out a few random steps in the sand, rubbing his wet hair in a gesture of
indecision. "If that was my big beef, Steve, I'd just haul off and hit you
right now and call it even."
"Then
why don't you?" he challenged.
"Don't
tempt me." The tone indicated the desire was perilously close to the
surface.
"Then
tell me what's wrong!" There was more impatience and dare in the line than
repentance. It was natural, Steve rationalized. Dan was putting him on the
defensive and Steve didn't take that from anyone, not even his closest friend,
not even if he WAS wrong!
"I
don't think you want to be here that long," was Williams' sarcastic,
cutting reply.
"I
have the time. Start at the beginning," was McGarrett's commanding demand.
In the
following, stiff silence, almost like a filmed replay, McGarrett's mind
switched back to the beginning of the Nick Gentry case. Within a split second
he reviewed his innocent send off at the airport by Dan; his contact with the
FBI man and the following days that threw him into the underworld of Honolulu.
It had been such a simple, innocuous beginning to such a disastrous finish. An
end for Gentry and Frankie. A finish to his friendship with Dan if he was not
careful.
"The
beginning. Would that be when you lied to me and said you were taking a holiday
for two weeks?" Williams snapped back with acid contempt. "Or before
that when you decided your staff wasn't trustworthy enough to confide in?
Instead you went to the Feds! You had to play God and single-handedly solve the
crime problems of Honolulu!"
The
venom filled words were shot out with rapid-fire speed and bullet-scarring
impact. Before McGarrett had a chance to respond Dan continued, now too
compelled by anger and pent-up bitterness to stop.
"My
God, Steve, all you had to do was tell us your plan! We could have set up some
really loose cover contacts to help you! Do you even know how dangerous it was
for the head of Five-0 to be slumming with murderers and ex-cons in the Hotel
district?"
Reaching
an apex of rage, Williams stalked off further down the beach. A bit shell
shocked at the words and their high emotional impact for both of them,
McGarrett was rooted in place for some time. After being arrested he had
miscalculated by keeping his undercover work secret from his staff. He should
have never taken the advice of the FBI in that matter. Compelled by his
motivation to put away Gentry, the decision finalized by a latent need to go
off alone and prove his skill. After Frankie's death and his return to the
office, McGarrett received a clearer picture of just how badly he had botched
things. His initial assessment was not even close. This whole incident had
really cracked some foundations in Williams' life and Steve was unsure how to
repair the damage. After a while he realized he had lost sight of Dan and
proceeded along the shoreline.
Steve
found his friend sitting on the concrete wall of a recreational area of the
beach. McGarrett leaned on one of the posts supporting the shelter's roof.
Humility seeping through the pores of his thick skin, McGarrett made the first
step in what he knew would have to be a colossal self-realignment. He was not
sure how far his pride would let him bend. He was not sure if it would be
enough for Dan.
"I
really blew it, didn't I?"
The
line was so inanely inadequate it drew a reluctant, rueful laugh from Williams.
"Yeah," he admitted with a nod. Elbows on his knees, he stared out at
the black, silky sheet of water lapping onto the nearby sand. "When I
started putting it all together," Dan began in a calm, subdued tone,
"after I came to my senses in more ways than one," -- a sharp dart
right to the conscience, that one -- "the secrecy and betrayal really
hurt. Worse than the punch," he wryly finished. Obviously, the punch was
something he was not going to soon forget. "I knew you had your reasons,
Steve, but I couldn't see that they were justified. You never gave me the
opportunity to agree or disagree with them."
Steve
paced in the sand for a few steps and paced back. "There were so many
times when I wanted your input, Danno, when I wished I had you there to talk to
-- to help bounce my ideas around. To just talk."
Williams
came to his feet. "As if you would listen," he retorted, his words
full of rancor.
Steve
grabbed onto his arm before he could walk away. "I mean that, Danno. I
needed you, needed someone I could really trust --"
"Trust?
Sometimes I wonder if you trust anyone, Steve."
Desperation
backed the sincerity in his tone. "I blew this whole operation, I admit that.
I value and trust your advice. And you. Nothing will ever change that."
Steve
felt some of the tension ebb from Dan, but there was still resistance, still
hurt in the expression.
"I'd
like to believe that," was Williams' dull reply.
McGarrett
released his grip and Dan moved to lean on a stanchion further along the picnic
area. Determined to get this cleared up, McGarrett came up behind his friend.
"Something's
still bugging you, Danno. You might as well get it all out now. If you don't
we'll never clear this away."
"You
won't want to hear it," was Williams' counter-challenge.
"Yes,
I do." When Williams didn't respond, McGarrett took the lead. "You
have every right to be angry with me." Steve was a little surprised at his
admission. Perhaps he WANTED to jump in and confess rather than hear Dan's
further accusations. Dan was right -- McGarrett hated the criticism, the
accusations. More than anything, he hated the argument. He turned to face Dan.
"The secrecy was wrong. Working for the Feds was a miscalculation. I never
should have thrown in with them, I should have kept the investigation in our
hands."
Williams'
face reflected amazement. He unconsciously rubbed his jaw. "You admit
it?"
"Completely."
Looking at his friend's face he realized the words were not yet a complete
balm. "It still hurts, though, doesn't it?" he asked quietly. He
chucked his friend under the chin. "I don't mean the punch."
"It
was too dangerous, Steve," came the flat, meaningful assessment. "The
way you skulked around deceiving us -- you could have been killed!"
"I
know, I --"
"We
couldn't do anything to help you out there!"
Realizing
that helplessness was the foundation of this explosion took away McGarrett's
breath. He had misjudged the depth of Dan's reaction to the alley incident, all
along focusing on the punch. That was not the main issue at all. Only Dan
Williams could start out with justifiable accusations and end up riddled with
guilt over something he could not control. The thought almost made McGarrett
smile with affection for his conscientious friend.
"Danno,
I know," Steve readily agreed.
However,
Williams was on a roll. There was a lot of pent-up anger worked up over the
past few days and he had to get it out. McGarrett forcibly shut his own mouth
and let Dan spill out all the fire inside.
"What
good are we -- what good am I -- if you ignore us? We're here to help
you!" Even in the subdued light Dan's eyes were bright with emotional
fervor. "What am I doing here if I can't help you when you need it?"
"Is
that what you really think?" he countered, upset at the picture of himself
and the lack of confidence of Williams. "Can you really doubt your value
to me?"
Obviously
if Dan questioned his position as second in command, then he had taken Williams
for granted more than he ever realized. He knew it was more than just this
glaring incident, more than just some random insecurity on Dan's part.
For
a moment intensity sizzled in the gaze, then Dan shook his head and looked
away, out over the ocean. He walked a few feet away, desultorily kicking the
sand. "For a while I really felt useless. Now I'm just angry. Angry that
you risked your life for something so useless as a conviction on Gentry. Or
someone as useless as Frankie!"
The
reference to the junkie was still a sore spot with Steve. He was not sure
exactly how he felt about the dead woman, but it rankled on him that Dan kept
attacking the pathetic, sorry wretch.
"She
needed help," he countered sharply.
"She
won your pity," Dan corrected coldly. "If anyone else on the staff
would have pulled this stupid undercover stunt with no back up, if any of us
would have been seduced by a hooker's sob story, you would have had our heads
on pikes! She played you for every ounce of pity she could get, Steve!"
"That's
enough!" McGarrett snapped, but Williams blundered on.
"If
you'd have let us in on the operation we could have warned you about the trap.
She was scum! She's better off dead. Why can't you accept that? She was worth
nothing compared to your life! You can't even compare --!"
"Why
do you hate her so much, Danno?" Truly mystified, angry, McGarrett closed
the distance between them. He stood next to Dan, but Williams would not look at
him. "She was at the bottom. Now she's dead and you still hate her. I've
never seen you react like this."
"I've
never come within a heartbeat's reaction of shooting down my best friend in an
alley." Dan turned to face him. His voice was shaking, his face white from
the memory. "I could have killed you, Steve!"
Slowly
McGarrett nodded. "That's what really got to you isn't it?" He placed
a steadying hand on Williams' shoulder.
Dan
moved away from the contact. "Yeah." The retort was sharp. Dan took a
few breaths and eased off the edge of his anger. "Unfortunately, it's at
the end of a very long list. You run off on your own, playing Lone Ranger way
too much! You cavalierly throw your life on the line like it means nothing!
Well, it means a hell of a lot to me! The other night was the limit! After the
lies and secrecy -- what if I had shot you!" His voice trembled, as if in
imminent danger of losing his tenuous control. "It was too close,
Steve."
The
finality in the tone sent whispers of fear into McGarrett's soul. Suddenly the
issue of who was right, or even his damage ego, was not important anymore.
"You make it sound like an ultimatum." His mouth was suddenly dry.
"I
guess it is," Williams admitted with gravity. "You're my closest
friend. I'm supposed to be your second in command, but you don't trust me
--"
"Not
true!"
"You
won't let me do my job! You won't let me protect you when you need help."
"What
do you suggest?"
"I
don't know. Can I expect the situation to change?" Dan's regretful,
thoughtful question directed more to himself than his associate. "Maybe I
don't belong here anymore."
McGarrett
should have foreseen this step, a near replay of the scene, years ago, when
Williams publicly resigned from Five-0. Irritated at his lack of perception and
upset by the threat, he growled under his breath. He DID view this as a threat;
to his autonomy, to his well-ordered kingdom that did not appreciate rebellion
at the round table, to his working relationship with his friend -- which he did
not want to change. He would not accept this, no matter how favored might be
his dissenting knight.
"I
won't let you resign," McGarrett shot back intently.
To
his friend's astonishment, Williams' seemed more irritated than ever at the
comment. Danno was not caving in to McGarrett's resolute resistance.
"Maybe
it's not your decision to make."
There
was no quick response to the flat finality of the words. No other explanation
or comment was made and Williams ended the discussion by turning and walking
away. At a loss to assimilate and comprehend the exchange, McGarrett sat on the
sand and watched the rhythmic patterns of the waves.
Racing
the Mustang at top speeds, Williams had circled around the coast highway and
back through the Pali tunnel before he was rid of the
anger. As he drove along the freeway through town, he emotionally leveled off
to a near normal state of nerves. By the time he pulled into the garage he was
feeling guilty at the rough tongue-lashing he had delivered to his friend. When
he stepped into the living room, he sheepishly greeted the visitor lounging on
the lanai.
"Hi,
Steve."
McGarrett
gave a slight wave. "Have a good drive?"
"Yeah."
Williams stepped onto the lanai and pulled a chair closer to his boss.
Mirroring McGarrett, Williams placed his feet on the small table between the
chairs.
"Nothing
like a kamikaze spin to blow off a little steam."
Dan
stared out at the dark ocean for a time and let the soft rhythm of the waves
fill the silence. "Guess I was a little dramatic, huh?"
"Yeah."
McGarrett turned from his study of the sea to observe his friend. "I was pretty
pig-headed. Maybe we can find a happy medium." His tone was hopeful,
speculative. "I don't want to lose you, Danno."
Williams
looked at McGarrett. "I don't really want to leave."
McGarrett
smiled. "Good, Danno, good. Then we should be able to solve this."
"Yeah,
I think so." Williams moved inside to retrieve a bottle of beer for
himself and a juice drink for McGarrett. Steve came in and, standing on the
other side of the kitchen bar, he leaned his elbows on the counter.
"The
bottom line is that this will never happen again."
"That's
a promise that won't be easy to keep," Dan warned. "I hope you can --
it will insure a little bit better odds for longevity, if nothing else."
"I
promise to try, Danno. Without predicting the future, that's all I CAN promise.
I hope it's enough."
"I
hope so, too," was Williams' tentative response. "I can't condone you
just running off on your own for dangerous missions. If you do, then next time
I leave. I won't stay if I have to fight you to save your life."
The
mixture of resolve, affection, hurt and reprimand was at once distinct and
blurred. Although the words were concise and clear, the voice was thickly
charged with deeply disturbed feelings.
The
emotions struck McGarrett straight to the heart. Pride collapsed under the
onslaught of sincerity and finality. He knew if there was ever a repeat of this
disastrous assignment he would lose Dan both as a colleague and a friend.
"I
don't want your resignation, Danno," he said firmly. "I never
have." He rushed on to an explanation. This was the time and place to
clear the air. If he hesitated he might lose his initiative and his friend.
"I am truly sorry this situation got away from me. I apologize -- for
everything. What more can I say?"
Now
his voice was quavering. He was humbled and touched that even after he had
crossed way beyond the limits, his friend still valued him as much as ever. He
was going to hold onto this priceless and valued confederate.
"I
was wrong to take you for granted," he said sincerely, deeply. "I
need a few lessons in appreciation, I guess. You make a very good conscience,
Danno. Maybe this old dog can still learn a few things. What do you
think?"
"I
think if you ever do this again, I'll probably punch YOU, Steve," was
Dan's somber, stern response.
"It
won't happen again," McGarrett vowed. Steve placed both hands on Dan's
shoulders. His mouth twitched with the hint of a wry grin. With a fist he
carefully touched Dan's jaw. "I think it's safer when we're on the same
side."
Humor
dulled the edge of Williams' lingering irritation and hurt. Dan, with only
slight hesitation, grinned. Gingerly, he touched the discolored, slightly puffy
side of his jaw. "Certainly safer for me," was his good-natured
comment, an off-handed acceptance of the apology.
They
took their drinks outside. Settled in the chairs on the lanai, they stared out
at the dark sky and deep ocean. Steve felt it was going to still take some
healing time to completely close the door on this hard-learned lesson. He would
never again forget, or take for granted, that he was part of a team. That team,
particularly the second in command -- his conscience and dear friend -- took
the responsibilities of cop and friend very seriously. McGarrett was going to
make sure he lived up to the high ideals of friendship that he had been shown
him from this bitter experience.
PAU