Fic: Gravitation
Aug. 7th, 2011 10:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
azziriaPairing: Steve/Danny
Rating: R
Summary: Steve's not strong enough to be here, but he's not strong enough to stay away.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, no harm intended, no profit made etc.
Warnings: Mpreg, angst
Word count: 11,000
Author's note: The final installment in my Overturning Moment series; the series is now complete. Be warned - not for you if you’re someone who thinks that having a baby is always a wonderful experience.
Gravitation
'Gravitation: The natural phenomenon of attraction between physical objects with mass or energy; the act or process of moving under the influence of this attraction.'
The first time Danny sees him he's not sure. He's collecting Grace from school, it's crowded and noisy, and as he looks up from strapping Jack into his car seat, Grace chattering excitedly in one ear about something she'd done in class that afternoon, he thinks he sees him, across the street. His heart skips a beat, his mouth goes suddenly dry, and with a sharp "Gracie, watch Jack!" he's off across the road, dodging the cars in a cacophony of squealing brakes and blaring horns, but he's too late. When he reaches the far sidewalk there's no one there. He'd think he'd imagined it, but it's been months since he last thought he'd seen him, since the last time he'd accosted yet another stranger, so sure, since the last time he'd tasted the bitter disappointment when it turned out to be just some other guy. So maybe this time it's really him.
"I saw him, I know I did," he tells Chin and Kono. "You sure, boss?" Kono says, laying a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Yes," he says, then "No. I don't know, Kono. I thought I did. And I haven't, for a while." She nods, Chin nods, and he knows they're remembering the six months they'd spent hunting him, after he disappeared, to no avail, because he obviously didn't want to be found.
"I'll pull the security footage from the airport," Chin says, "See if I can find anything," and Danny smiles at him, grateful for this team who've still got his back, despite everything.
Against all expectations they get lucky. Footage from four days ago shows a guy arriving on a flight from L.A. who could be him. The pictures aren't good, it's not definitive, but the name on the passenger manifest is William Daniels. It's him, Danny's sure of it. He's back.
It's three days before he shows again. It's Saturday afternoon, Danny's got Grace for the weekend, and he's sitting out under a sunshade with a cool drink watching Grace build sandcastles for Jack to knock down. Every now and then the breeze carries their voices to him, Grace sounding more and more like an American version of her mother every day and Jack squealing with excitement every time he stomps on another sand tower. Grace is good with Jack and seeing them together fills Danny with the nearest thing to contentment he's known since before Jack was born.
Then he looks up and he's there, in the shadows under the trees, watching. He's dressed in a gray T and cargoes, his hair's cut in a brutal buzz and he looks thinner than Danny's ever seen him. Danny's stomach lurches, he swallows down the sudden lump in his throat and gets to his feet, sauntering with studied casualness across the sand. He doesn't want to spook him, not now he's actually here.
"Hey," he says. "Steve." Steve doesn't look at him; his eyes are fixed on the two children playing in the sand. His face is gaunt and the dark shadows under his eyes look permanent.
"Is that him?" His voice is low, emotionless.
"Yes," Danny says. "That's him."
His eyes flick to Danny's face then back to the children again. "He looks like me."
"Yes, he does. He's got my temper, though. And he's talking already, won't shut up, I think he got that from me, too."
Steve nods, face expressionless. "Is he… normal?"
And oh god, Danny wants to touch him, wants to pull him into his arms and hold him, but he knows he can't do that. He puts his hand out and touches his arm, feels him flinch slightly as he does so and lets his hand drop again.
"Yes, he's normal. A perfectly normal, healthy eighteen-month-old boy."
Steve nods, keeps staring, and for once Danny has no idea what to say next. There's a long, long silence, but then Grace calls out, "Danno, come and see what we've built!" and he has to go.
He risks a hand on Steve's arm again, ignores the flinch this time. "Come with me. Come and meet him. And Gracie would love to see you."
Steve shakes his head, short and quick and Danny sees fear in his eyes. "No, Danny. I can't…"
Danny nods, "OK, I understand. But stay here, I'll be right back."
But when he's done admiring the sandcastle, when he turns back to the trees, the shadows are empty, with no trace that Steve was ever there and Danny feels empty, too.
It's a week this time. It's late and it's raining, one of those sudden tropical storms that blow in from nowhere on this goddamned island and Danny's wandering around tidying bits and pieces before heading for bed when he hears the knock at the door and it's Steve. He's wearing the same gray T, he's soaked through and he just looks... lost.
"Jesus, Steve, you'll catch your death, get in here." He pulls him in, gently but firmly. Steve looks around him, looks at the room where nothing's changed and yet everything is different, because the furniture is the same but there's a play mat on the floor and plastic blocks scattered around and Danny can see that Steve wants to run again.
He's not having that, no way, so he ushers Steve through to the kitchen, pushes him down onto a chair at the kitchen table. "You want a beer?" he asks, but Steve shakes his head. "You eaten today?"
Another shake, so Danny busies himself fixing a sandwich, all the time watching Steve out of the corner of his eye. Steve looks tense, wary, ready to flee, but he stays put. It's a start. Danny puts the sandwich down in front of him and he eyes it blankly, as though he isn't sure what to do with it. He doesn't look like he's had a square meal in months and Danny wonders how he's been living. He's clearly had access to money, because he bought a plane ticket, but it doesn't look as though he's been spending much on himself.
"Go on, babe," Danny says. "You need to eat that," and nudges the plate towards him and finally Steve picks the sandwich up.
The first couple of mouthfuls are slow, but then he speeds up, starts to eat like he's eating for fuel, not pleasure, in swift savage bites, hardly chewing each before he swallows it down and tears off another mouthful. He looks like a wild creature, a half-starved wolf maybe, dangerous and feral and not quite human. He looks like someone took Steve, Danny's Steve, pared away everything that made him human and civilized and happy and left the bitter, twisted and damaged core and Danny wonders why he's here, what brought him back.
Danny sits down at the table next to him, watches him eat, waits until he's finished and has pushed the plate away before he says, gently, "Where've you been, Steve? We looked everywhere, Chin and Kono and me. We've been so worried, babe." He ventures a hand on Steve's forearm. Steve stares at his hand for a long moment, then looks away.
"Danny," he says and his voice is a cracked whisper, "Danny, I… I couldn't…" and then it's as if something breaks inside him and he drops his head onto his folded arms on the table and starts to cry, huge wracking sobs that shake his whole body.
Danny shifts his chair around, gets an arm around Steve's shoulders and pulls him in tight. "It's OK, babe," he says, except it's not, of course it's not, it's so far from alright that Danny doesn't even know… "It's alright, babe, I've got you," he says, and he holds Steve for a long, long time, until the sobs subside.
"Come on," he says, pulling Steve up from the chair, and Steve comes easy, like all his will has gone, like he’s a puppet in Danny's hands. "You need some sleep, let's get you to bed."
Steve goes where he's pushed, lets Danny manhandle him upstairs and into the bedroom. He pulls off Steve's boots, pushes him down onto the bed and draws the covers up over him, and Steve rolls onto his side, curling up into a ball as if trying to protect himself or to keep from touching too much of anything. Danny wonders if he should get in with him, hold him or if that would be going too far, but then he hears Jack stirring in his bed down the hall. Steve's gone already, the speed of it suggesting a bone-deep exhaustion, so Danny leaves him, pulls the door to and goes to settle Jack. Once that's done he lays down on the bed in Jack's room and tries to figure out what the hell to do next. Sleep is a long time coming.
When he wakes in the morning Steve's gone, with nothing but the dirty sandwich plate in the sink to say he was ever there.
He doesn't come to the house again. Danny puts out feelers, finds out that he's living in a low rent one room apartment down near the docks, a worse shithole than Danny's first place on the island, but better than camping out in a shipping container or sleeping under a bridge somewhere as Danny had feared. He's working cheap manual labor down at the docks, casual work that doesn't pay much, but he works hard and keeps to himself, so he gets hired over and over.
He's still going by the name of William Daniels and he's changed so much that no one recognizes him for who he once was, for which Danny's grateful. He drinks alone and picks fights now and then which he always wins, contending them so viciously that people learn to avoid him. Danny's sure that he watches them, sometimes, gets that prickle at the back of his neck in a crowded place that tells him something's up, but he never catches sight of him and it could be wishful thinking. He's there but he's not there and Danny wonders what's keeping him here.
Danny doesn't go to see him. He thinks about it long and hard and he wants to, he wants to so much, but he figures that he has to give Steve time, doesn't want to scare him off. As long as he's here, in Hawaii, Danny can wait. He's put flags in the system, though. If William Daniels buys a ticket to get off the island, Danny will know. He's not letting him run again.
When things change, it's unexpected. It's two o'clock on a Wednesday morning when Danny's phone pulls him out of a deep sleep. It's Simmons from HPD. "Detective Williams? Sorry to wake you, but I thought you'd like to know—that POI you've been keeping tabs on? He's just been brought into the ER at Queens. Seems someone beat him up and left him for dead in an alley down near the docks."
Danny's suddenly shockingly awake, gut cold and churning. "How bad is it?"
"I don't know anymore than that, I just know they're trying to find his next-of-kin. I'm about to head down there now, take some details."
Danny's out of bed now, pulling on a pair of pants and a shirt. "Don't bother, Five-O will handle this one. Thanks for letting me know, Simmons."
He calls Kono, the only person he can think of right now that he trusts with this, "Sorry to do this to you, but I need you to sit with Jack. It's Steve, he's been injured, I've got to get over there."
"OK, boss, I'm there," she says and she is, so fast that he can't help but remember how much she drives like Steve.
He calls Chin next, "Steve's been hurt, he's in Queen's, I'll see you there."
Chin doesn't ask questions, just delivers a curt, "OK, I'm on my way" and cuts the connection.
At the hospital he flashes his badge and gets to talk to the doctor straight away. It's a bad beating, apparently, but not life-threatening. "I'd say they didn't intend to kill him," the doc says, "but they didn't exactly care if he lived or died once they were done."
Danny has to swallow down the surge of anger inside him at the bastards who did this. The doc's still talking though and he needs to focus.
"There is one thing you might be able to help us with, Detective. We can't track down any records for him. His I.D. says he's William Daniels, but he's not on the system anywhere and we need to notify his next-of-kin…"
"He's not on the system under that name," Danny says and that's it, this William Daniels business is going to stop right now, Danny has allowed it to go on for too long. "The name's false, he's been working undercover. You'll find his details under Steven McGarrett."
"Steven McGarrett?" The doc looks thoughtful, as if he's trying to catch at a memory, and for one moment Danny thinks he's going to ask something awkward, but then he shakes his head and says, "You wouldn't happen to know who his next-of-kin is?"
Danny squares his shoulders. "That would be me, I'm his partner. Now I'd like to see him."
Steve's still unconscious and he looks surprisingly small in the hospital bed. He's pale under the bruising and his bones are too prominent under his skin. He looks vulnerable in a way that Danny's never really associated with Steve before and he feels a wave of almost overwhelming protectiveness and love overtake him. This time, Danny promises himself, this time Steve's going to stay. Danny will do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.
He's not really sure how long he sits at Steve's bedside. Chin arrives and Danny fills him in on what's happened. "Take statements from the guys who found him," he tells Chin, "and get a statement from the doc here, too. Then tomorrow start following up on where he was tonight before this happened, see if you can find any witnesses. And ask Kono if she'll drop Jack at daycare, the car seat's at the house. I'll stay here until Steve comes to, try and get a statement from him."
He's teaching Chin how to suck eggs, he knows that, knows that Chin knows what needs doing, but he needs it, needs to get his own head in order so that he can control the anger and the worry that's churning inside him.
"OK, brah," Chin tells him, and he drops a reassuring hand on Danny's shoulder as he leaves. "I'm on it." Danny feels almost pathetically grateful for Chin's solid unflappability, and thanks his lucky stars yet again for the team he's got behind him.
Chin leaves, and Danny resumes his vigil. Towards dawn Steve starts to stir, his limbs twitching and his breathing becoming erratic. Danny grabs his hand and leans in, "Steve. Steve, hey babe, it's OK, I've got you, it's all good," and that's when Steve opens his eyes and screams.
Standing in the parking lot afterwards, the morning sun painting the hospital building behind him golden, Danny kicks himself for being so stupid, for not foreseeing that this might happen. Steve had woken up in hospital and he'd thought he was back there, back where Jack had just been born, back where and when the things had happened that had forced him to run. Danny should have expected it, should have been ready for it, instead of staring dumb and shocked as Steve scrabbled desperately at the bed covers, shoving them down and dragging his hands across his stomach, breath coming harsh and panicky. Even after they'd sedated him and Danny had seen him settle back into unconsciousness, even after the doctor had told him to go away and come back tomorrow, Danny still couldn't shake the picture of Steve's face, eyes fixed and staring in terror at the ceiling as his fingers clawed at his belly.
Dammit, Steve isn't just broken, he's fucking shattered. How could Danny have let this happen?
He's got to do better by Steve from now on. Leaning against the Camaro, he pulls out his cellphone and calls Rachel. Time to call in a favor.
The second time Steve regains consciousness he doesn't scream. This time he opens his eyes, looks straight at Danny and says, "I'm sorry," in a voice that's small and rough. Danny grabs his hand and he's probably holding on too tightly but Steve doesn't seem to notice.
"No, babe, you've nothing to be sorry about. I'm sorry, I didn't realize, I should have realized…" and Danny's babbling, he can hear himself, but he can't help it.
"Danny…" Steve's voice is barely more than a whisper and Danny has to lean in to hear him. "I fucked up, I'm sorry." He squeezes his eyes shut and Danny can see tears glinting from under his closed lids and there's a lump the size of a fucking baseball in Danny's throat right now, but he mans up, swallows it down and shoots for positive.
"No, you didn't, you didn't fuck up, but it doesn't matter, babe, none of that matters now. What matters is that when they let you out of here you're coming home with me and we're going to sort this whole fucking mess out, OK? And no arguments, Steven, this time we're doing things right."
Steve nods once, a small nod, but it's an affirmative, but he doesn't open his eyes and look at Danny again. There's something more.
Danny gives his hand a squeeze. "What is it, babe?"
The answer, when it comes, is so quiet that Danny almost can't catch it. "The baby… Jack…." and it's like he's struggling to even say the name. "I can't… Danny, I don't think I…"
So that's it. Danny lets go of the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. "Jack's staying with Rachel and Grace for a while. I thought maybe … maybe you weren't quite ready for that just yet."
Steve nods again, and now a tear escapes and rolls down his cheek. "Thank you," he says, and then that's it, it's like he's used up everything he's got and before long he drifts back off into sleep.
Danny sits there holding his hand for a long, long time, watching him and hoping desperately that this time he can get it right, for both their sakes.
He goes to Steve's apartment to collect his stuff and that's a whole new source of heartbreak, right there.
The place is tiny, one room with an adjacent shower, a sink and countertop with one ring for cooking and it's beyond shabby. The furniture is cheap and old; the bed is little more than a cot, just a metal frame with a thin mattress on it, the small table has one rickety chair pushed up against it, and the only storage is a dresser with three drawers.
The whole place is painfully bare and obsessively neat. The cover and sheet on the bed are turned down with military precision and the clothes in the dresser (four grey t-shirts, two pairs of grey cargoes and some socks and boxers, all cheap but serviceable brands) are folded neatly and lined up square. There's no TV or radio, no books, no food in the tiny refrigerator and no pictures covering the stains on the walls.
It looks more like a prison cell than a home and Danny wonders why Steve's chosen to live like this.
He does discover one thing as he's packing Steve's clothes into the duffle he found under the bed. At the back of one of the drawers, tucked away behind the folded t-shirts, he finds a small camera, a cheap digital model. Curiosity overcomes the feeling that he's trespassing where he has no right and he flicks the power on and thumbs through the menu until he finds the photo album.
There are only five shots on the camera, and they're all of him. Two are of him and Grace outside the aquarium, two are of him alone, one taken outside the Five-O headquarters and one taken as he was leaving the coffee shop where he picks up his second shot of caffeine every morning and the last one, blurry and far-off, is of the three of them, him, Jack and Grace, on the beach outside the house.
It's like a punch to the gut. It's proof, as if he needed it, that Steve's been watching them, watching him. Watching and taking pictures, stealing snapshots of private moments, and Danny has a sudden heart-wrenching vision of Steve sitting here in the darkness in this bare room scrolling through the photographs one-by-one, face lit only by the flicker of colored light from the tiny camera screen. Steve has taken these pictures and kept them hidden away and what does that mean?
Danny resets the camera menu, switches it off and stuffs it into the duffle with the clothes then heads out the door without a backward glance. Whatever has happened here, whatever this place and the things in it mean to Steve, he's not coming back here. Danny's going to make sure of that.
It's oddly quiet in the house without Jack there, without his incessant chatter and general insistence on getting underfoot all the time. In his place Danny's got Steve, who moves silently and says nothing. He follows Danny like a battered grey ghost, drifting after him from the living room to the kitchen as Danny starts to get things together to make dinner and in that he's not so different from Jack. He comes to rest just inside the kitchen door as though he's not sure where he should be and watches without speaking as Danny boils pasta and heats up some sauce from a jar and the old Steve would have bitched about using fresh ingredients, but this one just sits obediently at the table and eats what Danny sets in front of him.
He sleeps in their bed while Danny takes the bed in Jack's room, unsure what to expect or what Steve expects. All Danny knows is that he's not taking anything for granted, not now, not ever again. In the middle of the night he jerks awake, sure he's heard a cry, but when he makes his way along the corridor Steve's fast asleep, curled tight into a fetal huddle under the covers and Danny thinks he must have dreamt it.
Over the next couple of days Danny falls into the habit of delivering a constant and easygoing monologue, filling Steve's silence with inconsequential chatter about Grace, work, sports, anything that catches his fancy. He doesn't mention Jack, although it feels unnatural not to, but he figures it may be a bit too soon for that. Steve tracks after him and says nothing. He's wary and silent, with few words beyond "yes" and "no", "please" and "thank you". He says nothing about the night he was beaten up, looks away as if he doesn't hear when Danny asks about it and Danny's sure he knows something, but he doesn't call him on it. He's going to give him time.
Danny goes to work, muddles his way through paperwork and requisition forms, half his mind back at the house, petrified that when he gets home Steve will be gone again. Steve's still there though and Danny tries not to show how relieved he is. Steve's run once, he could do it again and Danny's never going to forget that.
On the third night Danny's woken by screaming and finds Steve caught in the throes of a nightmare, eyes staring and hands clawing at his belly just like in the hospital. Danny does the only thing he can think of, crawls into bed next to Steve and holds him, stroking his hair just like he does with Grace when she's had a bad dream, murmuring in his ear that it's alright, Danno's got him, it's going to be OK, until Steve calms and settles back into an easier sleep.
Danno's got him, it's all going to be OK. And Jesus God, Danny prays that that's the truth as he slips into sleep himself.
In the morning Steve's side of the bed is empty, and Danny has a moment of sheer blind panic until he sees Steve's cargoes and T still folded on the chair where he'd left them the night before. Maybe he's gone for a swim, just like he always used to do and that would be a good thing, a normal thing. He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself then swings out of bed and pads downstairs, pulled by the thought of fresh coffee and maybe pancakes for breakfast.
Steve's not in the house, but the back door is open and when Danny looks out he can see a figure on the beach, sitting hunched up on the sand. Not swimming then. He makes a pot of coffee, pours two mugs and heads for the ocean.
Steve's sitting near the waterline, knees drawn up to his chest with his arms wrapped around them, staring out at the waves. His hair is tousled and he's still wearing the boxers and t-shirt he slept in. He doesn't look up as Danny sits down next to him, twisting the coffee mugs into the sand to keep them stable, but he must know Danny's there.
They sit in silence for a while and then suddenly Steve says "I'm sorry." And there it is again, he's sorry, but Danny will be damned if he knows quite exactly what for and he opens his mouth to say so but Steve continues before he has a chance to speak.
"I tried, Danny, I really did. I tried to stay away, but I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough."
Danny's stunned, shocked into silence (which he'll freely admit doesn't happen often) because Steve's not apologizing for running away, he's apologizing for coming back and what the fuck is that all about?
"Babe..."
"I tried, Danny, I really did." Steve drops his hands onto the sand, digging his fingers in and gouging up handfuls, gaze still directed far out to sea. "I thought that if I went away, if I stayed away it would be the best thing. You could get on with your life, you'd have Jack, you'd be a family, you could be happy. I thought I could forget about all this, forget you." He lifts one hand and lets the sand run away between his fingers. "But it didn't work. The nightmares wouldn't stop, they still won't stop and I tried to stay away but I couldn't. I'm not strong enough to be here and I'm not strong enough to not be here and I don't know what to fucking do, Danny!" He spits out the final words, pushes himself abruptly to his feet, wincing as his bruised muscles protest and then he's stalking back towards the house, and this time Danny's the one trailing speechlessly behind.
When he gets to the house he finds that Steve has shut himself in the bedroom. He's still there when Danny leaves for work and Danny has a bad, bad day.
He stops off to see Jack and Grace on his way home from work and it's like a shot in the arm to see how Jack's face lights up as he toddles towards him (too fast, always in a hurry, just like Steve… just like the old Steve, Danny corrects himself) and cannons into his legs, demanding to be picked up and tossed in the air, all giggles and screams of delight.
"He's missing you, Danny," Rachel says, "but he's OK."
He settles Jack on his hip. "Thank you for this, Rachel. I didn't know who else to ask."
Rachel smiles at him, fondly and a little sadly, too. "That's what family's for, Danny. He's Grace's little brother, who else should you have asked?"
"I know. But… just thanks, OK?" He smiles back at her, so very, very glad that they came through all the messiness of the divorce and what came after and finally made it to where they could be friends.
"How is Steve?"
Danny sets Jack down, "Go find Gracie, Jack," he says, watching as his son runs into the next room where Grace is involved in some long and complicated three-way text conversation with two of the friends she's just spent all day at school with. "Not good, Rach. I don't think he's going to run again, but he's a mess."
"You have to get him to talk to someone, Danny, someone professional. You can't take this all on yourself."
Danny rubs his hand across his face. "I know. But I don't think he will right now. You haven't seen him, Rachel. He's so… broken."
Rachel fixes him with one of those looks, the ones he learned long ago to fear. "Have you actually talked to him about this, Daniel?" He looks away, avoids her eyes, and she sighs. "I thought not. You have to persuade him, for his own sake. Unless you think there are grounds for having him sectioned?"
"Sectioned? You mean have him committed? No… I couldn’t do that, Rachel..."
"Then you need to make him get some help, Danny. For both your sakes. You can't do this alone."
Talking to Steve about his mental health was never the most straightforward thing even when everything was good, Danny thinks. Despite the number of times Danny feared for Steve's sanity back in the day, the number of times he'd threatened to get him the details of a good therapist, it's not something they ever actually discussed, because getting McGarrett to admit that he might have feelings, let alone problems involving those feelings, was like pulling teeth. From a Great White Shark.
So Danny puts it off. He tells himself that he's waiting for the right moment, but he knows that the reality is that he's being a coward, a yellow-bellied craven coward. He's too scared of what will happen when he tries to have the conversation with Steve.
The first week stretches into a second. Danny goes to work each day, comes home and Steve's still there. There, but not there, an unquiet spirit in the house, still tense and wary, still jumping at sudden noises and never quite free of the hunted look he's carried ever since he came back. He doesn't swim, doesn't go running or work out so far as Danny can tell and Danny has no idea what he does all day, but he's still there every evening when Danny gets back. He doesn't talk, he just watches Danny when he thinks Danny isn't looking and it would be creepy if it wasn't for the fact that he always watched Danny, before, although Danny never really realized it until now.
He has frequent nightmares, and Danny spends two nights out of every three in Steve's bed, soothing him and holding him. He never starts off there though and Steve never mentions it. It never goes further than comfort and when Danny remembers how things used to be between them physically, before Jack, he pushes the thoughts firmly to the back of his mind. This is all about what Steve wants, what Steve needs, not about Danny, not this time and there's no place here for Danny's libido to rear its ugly head and fuck things up.
The fact that they need to talk can't be ignored though, if only because Rachel won't let Danny ignore it.
"Danny, you have to. Jack can't stay here forever, that house is his home and he misses it and he misses you. You have to talk to Steve." She's right, of course she's right and he misses Jack, too, misses him like a limb and he's going to have to stop being a coward and just do this.
Of course, the moment he picks is the wrong one, how could it not be? Looking back he could blame it on many things. On his tough day at work, perhaps and coming home full of anger and disappointment thanks to a perp they'd had to let go because of lack of evidence, even though they knew he was guilty. Or on exhaustion due to lack of sleep, the broken nights caused by Steve's nightmares making him frazzled and exhausted, wearing him down and making him feel like he did back when Jack was tiny. Or even just on the constant stress of tiptoeing around Steve, worrying all the time that if he says the wrong thing or does the wrong thing then Steve will disappear again or worse.
Of course it's the fault of all those things and more, but in the end it's a small thing that finally sets him off, that tips the balance and pushes him over the line. He goes to the refrigerator and notices that they've run out of milk, Steve's drunk the last of the fucking milk so there's none for breakfast unless he drags his ass out to the nearest store to buy some and that's it, that's fucking it, that's when the whole thing just overwhelms him and he loses it.
He slams the refrigerator shut and swings around to face Steve, who's standing just inside the kitchen door doing that hovering thing, like he doesn't quite know where to be and really, he should just make up his fucking mind, decide whether to be here or to leave again, because Danny can't take much more of this, he really can't. In three quick strides he's up in Steve's space and he's not even thinking, he jabs his finger into Steve's chest and Steve goes rigid.
"We need to talk," he snaps and that's it, Steve's face closes right up, becomes cold and hard, and Steve's turning away from him, headed into the living room and he's fucking leaving again and Danny can't bear it.
Quick as a flash he's on Steve's heel, grabbing his arm and pulling him around and for a moment he thinks that Steve's going to hit him, and that would almost be good, he'd almost welcome it, because at least it would be a reaction. But Steve doesn't hit him, just shrugs himself sharply out of Danny's grasp, but he does stop and he stands there with his face blank, not looking at Danny.
Danny lets go of Steve's arm and runs his fingers through his hair, trying to think clearly. He's not handling this the best way, he knows that, getting angry with Steve isn't going to help any, but he can't back out of this now. "We need to talk," he says again.
"What about, Danny?" Steve's voice is cold and clipped, with just the hint of something that might be suppressed anger.
Danny thinks 'calm', tries to sound as soothing and reasonable as he can. The truth is, he's petrified. "About you. About what happened. About why you left and where you've been for the last eighteen months."
"And what if that's none of your business?"
Despite his best efforts Danny can feel the fury and frustration bubbling up inside him, threatening to boil over and spill out. "You need to see someone, Steve. Someone who can help you. Someone who knows about this sort of thing."
Now Steve does look at him, and that look of cold contempt would shrivel a lesser man. "Someone who knows about this sort of thing? Someone who knows what it's like to be a man who's pregnant, who's given birth? Someone who knows what it's like to be a pathetic freak who hasn't even got the guts to do what's best for his family? Because I think there's really only one person around here who's got any idea what that's like, Danny!"
Steve's tone has picked up, he doesn't look so cool anymore, the color's up in his face and he's breathing hard, like he's just run a race. It's not good, but it is emotion, the most emotion he's shown since he came back, so Danny doesn't back down, although he's not entirely sure he's not on some sort of suicide mission right now, he hasn’t got a fucking clue what he's doing.
"So, what, Steve, you're just going to keep running away, is that it? Refusing to let anyone help you? Refusing to let the people who love you help you? You up and left without a word, Steven, not a fucking word, disappeared without a trace and we spent months looking for you!"
There's a pinched look around Steve's mouth and nose, white against the flush of his cheeks. "I told you, Danny, it was for the best."
"Best for who, exactly? Because it didn't look so good from where I was standing! I love you, damnit, I love you so much and you couldn't even come to me for help! And now you're back and you still won't let me help you and that stinks, Steve, it fucking stinks."
And that's it, he's done, he's got nothing left to say, so he turns and marches back into the kitchen. He fetches up against the counter, hands splayed on the work surface, head down and he's shaking, shaking so hard and listening for the sound of the front door, the sound that will tell him that he's fucked up completely and Steve is leaving again.
He's taken his shot. It's up to Steve now. Whether or not Danny's handled this well, he knows one thing for sure: this isn't going to work unless Steve comes to him of his own accord.
He's not sure how long he stands there braced against the counter before he hears soft footsteps behind him, feels Steve's presence.
"Danny…" There's a hand on his shoulder, the lightest of touches and he turns towards it. Steve drops his hands to his sides, fists balled, and the look on his face… Danny's never seen that look before, so naked and scared and lost. "Danny." He looks as white and sounds as shaky as Danny feels. "The guys who attacked me…" Steve's still not looking at Danny. "It was my fault… I started it… I thought…" His voice falters. "I came back… I couldn't stay away… but you and Grace and Jack, you looked so happy, I couldn't spoil that… but I wasn't strong enough to leave and I wasn't strong enough to… to…" He swallows hard, Danny can see his throat working as he struggles with the words. "So I thought… that if there were enough of them, if I picked the right fight then they'd do it for me."
Danny doesn't know if the icy fist clenching in his gut right now is because of what Steve's telling him or because of what he wants to do to the scumbags who beat him up or because of Danny himself and how useless he's been so far.
Steve's looking at Danny, really looking at him at last and he looks utterly terrified. "That's why you're better off without me," he says and his tone is desolate and Danny hates it so much.
"Come here," he says and he's reaching for Steve's hands, pulling him in. "Come here, you." Steve comes, stepping in close, still hesitant, and he wraps his arms around him and hugs him tight until he can feel his heartbeat against his own.
"Don't you ever run away from me again, Steven," he says into Steve's shoulder and shit, he's going to start crying if he's not careful, he can feel his eyes starting to tear up. "You hear me? Not ever. Because if you do, I will track you down and kill you myself, you got that?" He feels some of the tension go out of Steve under his hands, feels him nod his head. "That's good." He pulls himself together, gives himself a mental shake. "OK then, maybe we should…"
He lets Steve go, but Steve doesn't move away. He's standing there looking down at Danny and Danny tilts his head back to look Steve in the eyes and OK, the desolate look is sort of gone and in its place…
"Danny," Steve says, and there's something new in his voice, something uncertain and yet… hopeful. "Please… help me… I need you." With that he slides one hand up to rest his fingers on the nape of Danny's neck, and waits.
Danny can feel relief flooding through him. "Of course," he says. "Of course I will" and that’s when Steve leans in, closes the gap, and kisses him.
The first brush of his lips is tentative, as though he's unsure of his welcome, but when Danny opens up for him and slides his hands round to rest his palms flat in the small of his back it's like a dam breaking, he takes it up a notch, takes it up several notches and Danny finds himself pressed back against the counter with Steve kissing him like there's no second chance. It's like coming home, like Thanksgiving and Christmas and the Fourth of July all rolled into one and Danny's missed this so much, missed Steve so much, he maybe hadn't let himself realize just exactly how much until now.
After a couple of minutes Steve stops kissing him and pulls back, still shaking and breathing hard, but Danny's not letting him go, holds onto him tightly until Steve stills against him. "Danny…" Steve sounds uncertain and breathless and hopeful. "I want… can I…?" and it could break Danny's heart all over again, to hear Steve asking for something that's his by right, something that should be easy between them.
"Whatever you need, babe," Danny says, sliding sideways and tugging at Steve's hand, and he can feel a smile, a big smile, starting to spread across his face. "Come on, come on you. What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Come to bed, come to bed now." And Steve allows himself to be pulled, follows him out of the kitchen and up the stairs almost as if he's in a daze.
Danny wakes when the first shaft of morning sunlight hits his face and for a moment he's disoriented because something's different this morning, something's better. He stretches, feeling the comfortable ache in his body and he'd almost forgotten what that was like and then he grins because he remembers the night before, and in that at least Steve is still Steve.
Steve is stretched out beside him, still asleep, with one arm flung over his eyes to keep the light out, sheet bunched down over his hips, and Danny takes the opportunity to just look, to enjoy this sight that he'd almost given up hope of ever seeing again, the sight of Steve naked in their bed.
He's too thin, his ribs showing stark, pressing out against skin that's far too pale for Steve, skin that's still marked with the shadows of the bruises from the attack. The pallor of his skin shows that he clearly doesn't spend much time with his shirt off these days, Danny thinks, and the reason's probably clear to see, because although his belly's trim again, it carries the stripes of stretch marks and the long transverse scar of the Caesarian, all faded to silver now, but clearly visible. He has another scar, too, a new one, high under his ribs on his left hand side, and it looks like a knife wound. It hurts Danny to look at it and he wants to know about it, just like he wants to know everything about where Steve's been and what he's been doing these past eighteen months, but he knows he'll never ask. It's Steve's story to tell and if Steve wants to tell it he'll listen, but he'll never push it. He won’t risk driving Steve away again, not for anything.
He reaches his hand out, wants to touch, but holds back so as not to wake him. Untroubled sleep is too precious to be disturbed just because Danny's feeling needy. He can feel the heat from Steve's skin under his hand and he never thought he'd admit to missing having that furnace wrapped around him in bed every night but he has, he's missed it so much.
When he pulls his hand back Steve's opened his eyes and is watching him.
"Hey," he murmurs, smiling, and now he can touch so he reaches out to run his fingers along Steve's jaw and watches Steve push up into the touch like a cat being stroked. He leans in to give Steve a quick kiss, regretful that this is a working day and that he can't stay here, like this, for as long as he wants to. "So, I was thinking pancakes for breakfast," he says, rolling towards the edge of the bed and starting to sit up, but Steve catches his wrist and stops him, pulling him back.
"Danny." His face is serious. "I have to tell you something." And OK, sharing of information is good, Danny's all for that. "I'm not going to run again, I promise. And I will talk to someone, if you think that's what I should do." And that's good, that's all good but Steve's expression says there's a 'but' coming, and here it is. "But… I can't stay here."
Danny flops back down on the bed, his good mood deflating fast. "Why not? This is your home, Steve."
Steve shakes his head. "No it's not, not anymore. This is your home, yours and Jack's… but when I think about Jack…" He stops meeting Danny's eyes. "The nightmares… I have nightmares about Jack… and then I have bad days, days when…" and he looks like he's in pain. "I'm not ready to be around Jack yet, Danny… not yet… maybe not ever…" and he trails off, looking as though he's wandered somewhere dark and scary inside himself, so Danny has to put his arms around him and hold him again until Danny starts to feel better.
He's got Steve back, but he hasn’t got him home. And OK, he may not like it much, but it's a start. At least Steve's staying.
Leaving Steve in his new apartment is one of the hardest things Danny's ever done.
It's a much nicer apartment than his old one (Danny put his foot down, and sometimes even Steve knows when it's less trouble to give in and not argue). It has a good bed (because Danny has a vested interest in that), pictures on the walls (Hawaiian landscapes, because nowhere on the island sells posters of New Jersey), a TV, and one of Grace's pictures on the fridge (and Danny's proud that his baby girl isn't too old to pull some artwork out of the hat in Steve's moment of need). So it's a lot better than Steve's last apartment, but it's still not the beach house, it's still too bare, because Steve refuses to take anything with him except the clothes he came back with and he still has to leave Steve standing in the middle of it looking empty and alone and that makes Danny want to hit something. He doesn't look too closely at the fact that the something he most wants to hit is himself.
True to his word, Steve starts seeing a shrink, someone that the doc who saw him through the pregnancy recommends. Danny drives him to the first appointment and waits for him to finish. Steve comes out looking tense and with red-rimmed eyes and most decidedly Not Talking about it, but he goes back again and keeps going, so Danny figures it must be doing some good.
He finds himself some work, teaching self-defense classes. It's part-time and not well-paid, but it's not dock work and it involves human contact and he proves to be surprisingly good at it. He's relaxed around his students in a way that he still rarely is elsewhere and Danny wonders if it's because it takes him back to his Navy days, back to his SEAL training, back to a time before everything got so complicated.
The one thing he won't do is see Jack or even talk about him. Danny brings up the subject a couple of times, mentions Jack in passing occasionally, but every time he does so Steve shuts down and either pretends not to have heard him or swiftly changes the subject. Danny wonders if he discusses Jack with Dr Ellison, but he doesn't know how to ask.
It has to happen, though, that one day the two parts of Danny's life are going to overlap, however hard he tries to keep them separate.
The day it finally happens is a Sunday and Rachel's had Jack for the day, has taken him and Grace to some kids' event at the country club. Danny's taken the opportunity to invite Steve over and they've spent an easy, domesticated kind of day. Steve's swum, poking fun at Danny because he wouldn't join him, but Danny has laundry to do and groceries to put away, thank you very much, some people have a home to run and can't just spend their time disporting themselves in the ocean without a care in the world and anyway, what about the sharks and jellyfish, I've told you about this before, Steven. Lunch is steaks on the grill and beers on the lanai, just like old times and they're just finishing washing the dishes when Danny hears the front door open, and Grace's voice calling out a welcome. They're back early, the party finished sooner than expected, and Danny wasn't prepared for this. And before he can do anything, before he can call to Grace to stop him, Jack comes toddling into the kitchen yelling "Daddy!"
Steve goes rigid, the look on his face and every line of his body screaming fight or flight, and he's staring at Jack with something akin to horror. Danny thinks fast, moves faster, scooping Jack up and settling him on his hip, and heading for the front door. "Hey, Jackalope, let's go and wave goodbye to Auntie Rachel and Gracie, yeah?" By the time he gets back to the kitchen Steve's gone.
He doesn't answer his cell for three days, calls in sick for his classes and there's no sign of him at the apartment. Danny's just starting to get really worried when he shows up for their usual Wednesday night beer as if nothing had happened. He's got scraped knuckles, bruised ribs and a small cut above one eye, he's clearly been in a fight, but he offers no explanation and Danny doesn't ask, even though he thinks that maybe he should. He drinks in silence and then when they get to his apartment he shoves Danny up against the wall and kisses him, hands and mouth insistent as he rids him of his clothes with military efficiency and then fucks him fast and hot, face down across the bed. It's one hell of a turn-on, it's really fucking awesome sex and Danny comes so hard he almost forgets his own name, but it's not right, it's not how he wants Steve.
Afterwards they fall asleep, Steve curled up around Danny on the bed and in the morning he's his usual self again and Danny's glad of that.
Danny picks up Jack from Rachel's after breakfast, and spends the rest of the week trying not to think about what happened and about how torn he feels between two of the people he loves most in all the world.
The week of Jack's second birthday Steve goes AWOL again. Danny's expecting it this time, there are signs, but he's told himself that he's not going to worry, that Steve's come a long way from where he was when he first came back and he can take care of himself. Danny's got other things to worry about, anyway; his mom and dad are flying in from Jersey to stay for a few days,and there's a birthday party to organize, just close friends and family, but there's a lot to do all the same. Steve's a grown man and Danny's not his keeper. He has to trust that Steve will be OK.
That doesn't stop him from flagging the system though, just in case he does try to run again. Just because Danny's not worrying doesn't mean he can't be concerned.
On the day of the party Danny hardly has time to think about Steve because of course he's forgotten that neither his mom nor Grace know the meaning of the words 'low key'. So Danny gets to be their personal gofer all morning, moving furniture, putting up decorations and fetching forgotten items from the grocery store and he's grateful to escape for a few peaceful moments when it's time to put Jack down for his midday nap.
The guests start to arrive while Jack's still asleep; Chin, Kono, Alana, Rachel, a handful of moms and kids from the daycare, a small gathering but enough that the house buzzes with life and noise. Jack's the center of attention when he wakes up and that's as it should be and Danny's happy, even if he's trying not to think about what might have been. What should have been. He spares a moment to hope that Steve's OK, wherever he is.
"Cake time!" his mom announces and really, the cake's a thing of… a thing of something, Danny's not quite sure you can call it a thing of beauty. The frosting is somewhat lopsided and very blue ("Because Jack's a boy, Danno," Grace had told him when he'd proposed a slightly less alarming shade, using a tone that suggested that it was obvious to anyone who wasn't a complete idiot) and it's got two candles on it and cars and enough candy to make an entire army of toddlers hyperactive. Grace and his mom spent hours getting it just perfect and Grace is very proud of it and can't wait to show it off.
Which is why his mom and Grace shouldn't be having the argument they're having in the kitchen right now. "We can't do the cake yet, Grandma. Everyone's not here yet." Danny mentally checks the guest list and yes, as far as he knows everyone they invited has made it.
"What's up, Monkey? I think everyone's here now. Alana showed up half an hour ago and I think she's the last."
Grace looks at him and frowns. "No she's not. Uncle Steve's not here."
And OK, he wasn't expecting that. "Gracie, Uncle Steve's not coming."
She's still frowning at him. "But he said he would."
It's Danny's turn to frown. "When did he say he would?"
"When I gave him his invite, last week. He said thank you and that he'd do his best to be here."
Danny sighs. Damn Steve for not having the balls to say 'no' to her face. But then when had he ever been able to say 'no' to Grace, she'd had him twisted round her little finger from the word go, big bad SEAL or not. "Grace, you know that Uncle Steve hasn’t been well. I'm sure he meant to be here, but sometimes he finds things with lots of people difficult."
She looks disappointed. "I know, but this isn't lots of people, it's family. And he should be here."
Danny sighs again. "I know, Monkey. But sometimes things don't always work out the way we want them to. I'm sure Uncle Steve would be here if he could. Now come on, let's get these candles lit."
The cake's a hit, Jack manages to blow out both candles with one puff and Danny's so busy handing out the slices of cake that his mom's serving up that he hardly registers the doorbell and doesn't see Alana open the door and let him in.
So he nearly drops the plate he's supposed to be delivering to his dad when he looks across the room and sees Steve. He's standing just inside the door, clutching a small, brightly-wrapped package and he looks about as frightened as Danny's ever seen him, frightened and… determined. Danny shoves the plate into his dad's hands and weaves his way across the room, his heart in his mouth.
"Hey, Steve," he says, "You came."
Steve's eyes are darting around the room, he's clearly trying to locate Jack. "Grace invited me."
Danny smiles at him, puts a hand on his arm. "She told me. Come on, she'll be so happy you're here." He steers Steve across the room and into the kitchen where Grace and his mom are cutting the last pieces of cake.
"Look who turned up," Danny says, and it's a joy to see Grace's face light up. "Uncle Steve! I knew you'd come!"
Grace is hugging him just like she's a small kid again, not a grown-up young lady of eleven and Steve looks kind of shell-shocked, but in a good way. Danny plucks the package from Steve's hands. "Grace, can you give this to Jack for Uncle Steve?" Grace gives Steve a final squeeze and darts off with the parcel.
"Mom, you remember Steve?"
Of course she does, she knows the whole fucked-up story, but she's his mom and she's good with people, so she smiles and says, "Of course I do! Now, you've got to have some cake, Steven and you can't say no, it's birthday cake and Grace helped me make it. Anyway, you look like you need feeding up, hasn’t my boy been looking after you properly?"
Danny can't even begin to measure how much he loves his mom.
All his instincts are telling him to stay with Steve, to look after him and protect him, but he's the host, he can't ignore his other guests, so while his mom's cutting Steve an obscenely large slice of cake and grilling him about his self-defense classes he slips out and alerts Chin and Kono and then Rachel. He feels happier when he's got his team on it, one of them at Steve's side all the time, seamlessly swapping in and out so that he's pretty sure Steve doesn’t realize he's the subject of a covert op and Steve stays, which is partly a miracle and partly the result of careful management, even if he doesn't look exactly relaxed at any point.
The afternoon slips by, Danny kind of loses track and eventually the guests leave and it's only immediate family left and all the clearing up to do. He realizes that he hasn't seen Steve leave, but he supposes that in the hustle and bustle Steve probably slipped away and he thinks that maybe he'll swing by the apartment later on to check up on him. He collects up the first load of cups and plates and carries them into the kitchen, where his mom is already up to her elbows in the washing up and his dad's wielding a dishtowel. "Where's Jack?" he asks. "In the study, I think," his mom says. "Rachel's with him," so he heads in that direction.
Rachel's standing outside the study door and as he approaches her she raises one finger to her lips then nods in the direction of the study. He slows his pace and walks to the doorway on careful feet, trying to be as noiseless as possible.
Danny's had many surprises in his time, some good and some not so good, but this one kind of caps them all.
Steve's standing in the middle of the study. He's within six feet of Jack, who's running his favorite toy car across the floor and he's watching him. He's got his back to the door, so Danny can't see his face and Danny goes to start forward, to rescue Steve, but Rachel catches his arm and shakes her head.
Danny's got no idea how long they all stand there, unmoving except for Jack, but then Jack pushes a little too hard and one wheel spins off the car, it does that sometimes, it's easily fixed by an adult and Jack knows that.
An adult, and there's only one on hand, so Jack climbs to his feet and holds the car and the wheel up to Steve.
For a long, long moment Steve does nothing, seems paralyzed and Danny seems to have forgotten how to breathe, and it's only Rachel's hand squeezing his arm that's stopping him from rushing in there and grabbing the car… but then Steve drops down onto his knees next to Jack, a little stiffly, a little self-consciously, and takes the proffered car and wheel, bending his head in concentration over the brightly colored toy as he fits the wheel back onto the axel and fastens it in place. He runs it along the floor to check it works and then holds it out to Jack, who takes it and beams and says "T’anks!"
Jack goes back to pushing his car around, Steve stays where he is, kneeling on the floor watching his son play and Danny feels like he can truly breathe freely for the first time in months.
It's a start.
"Jack! Jack Williams, get down here now! You'd better have finished your chores, because Uncle Steve'll be here any minute and you know he hates hanging around."
"Yes, Dad," Jack comes barrelling into the kitchen, barefoot and hair every which way, tone of voice indicating that his dad is the worst nag in the world and the most annoying father any eight-year-old ever had.
"Come here… have you brushed your teeth?"
"Yes, Dad." Jack rolls his eyes and shifts from foot to foot, fidgety and impatient to be off, to be doing and sometimes he's so like Steve it takes Danny's breath away.
"OK then. Go get your backpack and your boots, I can hear the truck."
Steve knocks before he lets himself in and really, it's still his house, it's not like he's a guest here, but Danny can't break him of it and it twists his stupid heart every time Steve does it. "Hey, Danny," he calls out, coming to a halt just inside the door as if uncertain of his welcome. He's greyer than when they first met and still leaner than Danny'd like, but the haunted look is mostly gone from his eyes and he rarely has nightmares these days.
Danny goes over to him, slides an arm around his waist and pulls him into a kiss. "You good, babe?"
"Yeah, I'm good. Jack ready?"
"Almost. Be warned, though—he's planning on beating you to the top today."
Steve grins at that, that beautiful, beautiful grin that had taken so long to reappear. "In his dreams..."
"Won't be long, babe, you're not getting any younger…" That earns him a finger in the ribs and he twists out of Steve's reach, laughing, and it's good, this easy banter, it's loose and relaxed and all good. And maybe… Danny takes a deep breath.
"Hey, Steve, you thought any more about what I said? About you moving back in here?"
Steve goes still, the grin suddenly gone from his face, replaced by that lost and vulnerable look that Danny would be quite happy never to see again. "Danny… I want to, you know that, it's just…"
Danny steps into him and takes his hands. "Hey, it's OK, no pressure. It's just that you're here most of the time anyway, so I thought…"
"I want to… but what if I have one of my bad days or another of the nightmares? I don't want Jack…"
"Jack's not a little kid anymore, Steve. He knows you haven’t been well, he understands that." He pulls Steve into a hug, holds him tight. "We want you here, babe, both of us do. It's where you belong." He feels Steve huff a breath, nod his head.
"I'm thinking about it, Danny, OK?"
"OK, thinking's good, we can work with thinking. You take all the time you need. But this is your home, Steve. And Jack and me, we want you here. So you take your time and whenever you're ready, you come home, OK?"
He feels Steve nod again, serious, too serious, so he pulls back, slaps Steve's ass hard, and says "Any way, you'd better get with it, princess, you and the boy've got a date with a mountain. And don't you be late back because I'm making pizza, the special Williams recipe and before you ask, neither of you are having pineapple on it!"
"Oh, Dad!" Jack appears, boots and back pack in his hands. "Uncle Steve!" The boots go flying as Jack launches himself at Steve and the roughhousing that ensues makes Danny fear for the furniture, seriously, you'd think they were both born in a cave or something.
"Get out of here, you Neanderthals, before you wreck the joint! Go on, out!" He shoos them out of the house, as bad as one another, the pair of them, like father, like son he thinks and how did he get so damn lucky as to have them in his life?
He watches them from the door as they head out to the truck, walking close to one another, hears Jack's excited chatter and Steve's deeper-toned replies. It's not what he'd planned, he thinks, not what he'd dreamed of, not what he'd hoped for, but it's something. Steve came back to him, came back to them and he's stayed, after his fashion and that's what counts. It's something and it's almost enough and Danny's learned to take what he can get and be thankful for it.
And anyway, they're a work in progress, like all families. They're finding their own shape, Danny thinks, and so long as they're all together somehow then really nothing else matters.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 11:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 01:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 01:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-07 09:12 pm (UTC)Amazing job. Seriously.
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Date: 2011-08-08 08:02 pm (UTC)