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sealieRating: Slash
Word count: ~3,800
Warning: skip The ‘Ohana attends a funeral.
Advisory: emotional rollercoaster; potty mouth; IT’S A WIP.
Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Comments: British English spelling, chance of more spelling/grammar mistakes
Spoilers: none, it’s an AU.
Betas: Springwoof -- 307, 797 words posted to date. You’ve been with me every step of the way. Thank you.
Last time of the Co-operative, Steve absently munching on a scab was considered really, really gross… But he can taste Danny’s sperm without comment.
ONE HUNDRED PARTS!
The first part is here,
The Co-operative.
By Sealie
Yippee ki yay…! Danny had thought that Steve would have worn his uniform for the funeral. No. Steve wore a new, ebony-black, classic-cut suit, crisply tailored for his current narrow breadth and weight. The accents on the pockets of his closely fitted waistcoat were the Seolh aquamarine-blue.
“Is that an eldritch knot?” Danny said weakly, transfixed by the Seolh-blue tie.
“Eldredge,” Steve corrected, as he affixed a Naval platinum tiepin below the folded, layered knot.
“Hhhhuuurrrr,” Danny managed, because he was bewitched.
Steve squinted at him, perplexed, clearly not following that Danny was about to climb him like a tree. Although, reluctantly, Danny knew that that wasn’t possible given that they were leaving for the funeral in less than fifteen minutes, but all bets were off when they came home.
Danny couldn’t resist sliding forwards. Steve had shaved closely, and his newly cropped hair had an endearing hint of a curl.
“You clean up good, Babe.”
Beaming, Steve smoothed the line of his waistcoat, accentuating his flat abdomen. He even had the chain of a pocket watch forming a perfect curve from the middle button to the tiny pocket on his left hand side. Wanting to mess with perfection, Danny tugged the aquamarine silk handkerchief in his suit breast pocket a little more prominently.
“Perfect.” Danny’s fingers itched for his camera.
“You’re smiling. You look really happy.” Steve pecked a kiss on Danny’s lips.
“Really? Oh?” Danny knew why: Steve looked healthy. It was a pleasure to see. The hollow cheeks had filled out, the drawn lines accentuating tiredness under his eyes were gone, and his eyes were bright.
“What?” Steve cocked his head to the side.
“You look good, Babe.” Danny smoothed his hands up the perfectly pressed lapels and around the back of Steve’s neck.
Obediently, Steve leaned in to kiss. “I like your suit too,” he murmured before delving down.
~*~
The limousine was big enough for the entire family. It felt as solid as a black hole, heavy with protective, ponderous weight as it powered along the Lunalilo freeway. When it had driven up the House drive, Danny had expected it to gouge deep furrows in the gravel. There were even flags on the hood.
Mamo and Maru were up front; Chin, Kono and Mary in the middle, with Steve and Danny taking up the rear seats. Steve was cool and collected, leg crossed over his knee, as if he was chauffeured in an ostentatious limousine every day. Assigned personnel were in the sedan before them and the SUV with black-tinted windows behind them.
Danny peered out of the limo windows as they came off the freeway, amidst twisting flyover and concrete barricaded roads, before hitting suburbia. A few pedestrians on the streets turned to watch. There was another limousine ahead. Danny guessed that there were going to be some seriously important guests at the funeral. Although was guest the proper term? He didn’t know.
They climbed higher, twisting and making a couple of sharp turns. As they crossed over a bridge, Danny read: Department of Veterans’ Affairs, National Cemetery, Punchbowl.
There were more vehicles on the road, all heading in the same direction. Perforce they slowed. They climbed higher and higher on the wide, circling road. The sidewalks were clean, the verges carefully maintained with colourful flowers and verdant bushes.
It was a bright, sunny day. Danny always wanted it to rain during funerals. Smoothly, they drove through the gates. Ahead of them the road split into two lanes on either side of a green central median. All three vehicles took the left-hand road after a brief discussion with the uniformed policeman standing before the half-mast flag. A marble edifice constructed of white tiers -- the steps of giants -- was at the end of the long drives.
Slow and measured, their limousine glided up the left hand drive. The giant steps resolved into individual white-dressed mausoleums stacked on either side of a wide set of steps leading up to a statue of a lady looking down from an ascetic building built of lines and angles. It spoke to Danny of the proud figurehead arising from a ship’s prow.
Danny made a mental note to visit the cemetery when he wasn’t attending a funeral. Their car filed in behind the sedan, coasting to a halt, parking on the side of the road by a pink flagstone area before the steps. Lines of folding chairs were set out neatly on the open space.
“Sir--” the chauffeur turned to face them but his voice came over the in-house microphone, “--please remain in the vehicle until Lieutenant Simons joins us.”
Steve carefully resituated his tie a millimetre.
“Wo Fat’s not going to do anything here,” Steve said, and exited the vehicle.
“Whoops, Stevie on a mission. Defying authority.” Mary piled out after him, the wide skirt of her black and red poppy dress flaring around her.
“Geez.” Danny scrambled behind them.
The pair were simply standing in the middle of the road. The air was warm and sweet. A gentle breeze lifted Mary’s fine, flyaway hair.
“Auntie Pat,” Mary suddenly blurted.
“Yes,” Steve said simply. He caught her hand, and Mary let herself be held.
Danny fell in behind them, following them to the seats.
They had assigned seats up in the second rank of seats in front of the milling uniformed schoolchildren lining up at the base of the steps. There was a large photographic portrait of the governor set on an easel beside the choir. Cursory nods and quiet greetings murmured across the space as the multitude found their seats. Danny sat between Steve and Kono, Mary and Chin on either side. Maru and Mamo were behind them, flanked by heavy-set male Navy officers.
The man standing before the choir lifted his hands, and obediently the children quietened and moved to their assigned positions. The air was of waiting.
A grey haired man, with a chiselled lantern jaw, walked down the centre aisle. At his side a younger man wearing the same face, but unlined and softer-angled, shadowed him. A woman, her light blonde hair tousled in the breeze, walked arm in arm with a soberly dressed man, unremarkable and unmemorable. Governor Jameson’s immediate family, Danny guessed. The supposition was supported by the attendance of Acting Governor Denning walking soberly in their wake.
The conductor was watching them closely. As they took their position at the front of the assembly he raised his baton. Unexpectedly, the woman, Governor Jameson’s daughter, moved from her husband-partner’s mantling wing, and skirted along the rank of chairs, past Governor Denning and his wife.
“Steve,” she said, on making her way to their position.
“Charlie? Hey.” Steve reached out and caught her questing hand over the back of the chairs separating them.
The angle forced by reaching over the chairs was uncomfortable, but she pulled Steve into a hug.
“Thank you,” she said softly, wetly.
“Hey. Hey,” Steve soothed.
“We’ll talk later.” She kissed his cheek and pulled away, to return to her family.
Palpable relief lightened Steve’s taut stance to parade rest, hands crossed behind his back, feet shoulder width apart.
The choir master took her return to her family’s fold to re-lift his baton. A clear treble sang out. The boy’s voice was pure, the tone clean with no unnecessary trills and breathy sounds. Danny had clutch of cousins and second cousins, who had attended or were attending the American Boychoir School in Princeton. Great Uncle Thomas was an institution at the school, and vetted every single boy of the Williams clan to ascertain if they could sing. Danny had been to more choir performances than he could count.
The kid was good. The choir master was an accomplished director. The cant of the choral work was Hawaiian. Danny, unsurprisingly, didn’t recognise it, but he was really tempted to ask for a recording to send to Uncle Thomas.
As the final notes ebbed, Governor Denning took the podium between the portrait and the choir. He waited until ponderous silence echoed across the cemetery.
Danny looked for that internal place where he followed what was happening, but didn’t listen. He did not like funerals. Did anyone, he wondered.
The eulogy washed over him.
~*~
The choir performed a second work after the series of speakers finished extolling the virtues of Patricia Jameson, closing the formal part of the ceremony. There was a long moment while attendees waited for direction, before Governor Denning announced that there was a wake at the Governor’s Mansion.
The shuffle and murmur was an abrupt disturbance after the silence. People started to move.
“Steve?” Mary leaned around Steve so he could see her face. “Are we?”
“We should,” he said cryptically.
“Okay, right.” Mary visibly braced herself.
“Be right back,” Steve said tersely.
“Uhm?” Danny began.
But they were already working their way through the milling crowd. Backs straight, pace measured, walking side by side, their siblinghood was tangible. Their goal was off at a tangent from the seating arena, and in the opposite direction from their protection detail and the milling crowd.
“They’re not going far,” Chin explained to Simons. “Their parents’ gravestone is in the grounds, just beyond those trees.”
Stalwart banyan trees, lining the walk up to the memorial, guarded the fallen.
“Noted.” Simons followed his charges, but stayed respectfully back.
Danny watched. Past the promenade, a vast field, far too many servicemen and women, stretched across the Punchbowl. Steve knew where he was going with unerring accuracy. As one, both McGarretts stopped, heads bowed before a simple flat headstone.
The family waited patiently.
~*~
Danny had thought that they were going to the Governor’s residence for the wake, but confusingly there were two residences. The oldest had been the official home of Queen Lili’uokalani of Hawaii, before she had been arrested during the coup d’état that eventually led to the overthrow of the Kingdom of Hawaii. The governor actually lived in the residence behind the mansion, which had been built in the late 1990s so that the history of the original mansion could be preserved for all.
It reminded Danny of the ‘Iolani Palace, which they had visited for the Christmas Ball, but more intimate. A buffet had been set up in a stately chambered hall, with a ceiling of overly ornate wooden interlocking beams, but some of the guests had meandered through the open doors into the gardens.
A waiter passed with a silver tray balanced with glasses of white and red wine. Danny wasn’t driving, so he snapped up a frosted white wine glass and a red. The red wine he handed off to Mary.
“Oh, thank you.” She took a deep quaff.
Danny matched her.
“Not fun,” Mary summarised, quietly.
“No,” Danny agreed watching the family holding court before a rank of supplicants, mourners and those merely interested in being seen by the throng. He volunteered, “I haven’t been… I’ve not been the centre of attention at a funeral before.”
Mary sighed. “When mom and dad died I was pretty young. I remember the day. It sucked. I dunno. It didn’t make any sense. I didn’t know what to do.”
Danny didn’t know what to say. He opted for clinking his glass against her glass.
“To your mom and dad.”
“And to finding who killed them and making them pay,” Mary growled.
“Steve’s working on that,” Danny said lowly.
“Yeah.”
They both turned to regard Steve, who was speaking with Mr. Jameson off to the side from the throng. Steve was nodding soberly, and intently, at Mr. Jameson’s words. Finally, Mr. Jameson patted Steve’s shoulder. Steve shrugged depreciatively, a little shy.
‘Son,’ Mr. Jameson clearly mouthed, and offered his hand.
“Good,” Mary said as they shook hands. “I suppose I better go over.”
“You want me to come with?” Danny offered.
“Nah.” Mary shrugged. “I’ll be girl talking with Charlie. Go give Stevie a hug. He looks like he needs one.”
Danny watched her stride off, before heading over to Steve via the smörgåsbord. He snagged a few choice morsels for them to share. Crab puffs, smoked salmon and Roquefort cheese on tiny crackers, juicy shrimps, vegetable spring rolls, fresh fruit and savoury sausages on little sticks, plus skewers of fried chicken drizzled with satay sauce for himself. Cleverly, the plates had little clip hangers that you could suspend your wine glass from.
“Hey, Babe,” Danny slid into Steve’s orbit with all the skill of an aircraft carrier, telegraphing his approach.
“Danny,” Steve returned.
“A lot of guests. I guess you know most of them?” Danny set himself beside Steve, plate held prominently, so that they could both graze.
“I know a lot. Not everyone.” Steve munched on a crab vol-au-vent.
“Is Kahuna Creepypasta here?” Danny looked around, because normally when he thought about the man, he promptly appeared.
“I saw Kahuna Keōua earlier,” Steve said mildly.
“Mmmm.” Danny continued to check, but didn’t spot the man.
Steve snagged the wine glass perched on the edge of the plate, and took a sip.
“Nice,” he mused.
Danny flagged over another waiter and got another sweating glass of white wine.
“What is this?” he asked the young man.
“Grüner Veltliner from New Zealand, sir. The Pinot Noir is also from the Yealand’s Estate.” With a nod, the waiter moved off to serve more guests.
“You want to walk out into the gardens?” Danny made a step towards the open glass doors to the outside world.
Steve obediently followed. It was a lovely, tropical January day in Hawaii and the sun was shining. Danny scrunched his nose up and led them to the protective shadow of a tree. They weren’t the only ones that had sought out the midday sun and light breezes rather than the chamber. A pristine green lawn stretched before them, flanked by flagpoles adorned with a multitude of half-mast flags. The light breeze made them flap dispiritedly.
“What’s the one with Hawaii written in the centre of the circle of stars?” Danny asked.
Steve stared at him. “I forget that you haven’t been on the islands that long. It’s the flag of the Governor of Hawaii. The others are--”
“American State flags,” Danny supplied.
“Some of them. Some are for countries,” Steve said, pointing. “Australia with the Southern Cross.”
Danny rolled his eyes.
Steve grinned.
“Drink your wine, Babe,” Danny directed.
“Steve McGarrett. Well, hello. You look well.” An Asian woman, maybe their age or a little older, paced over. Her waist-length black hair swished with each step.
“Ayumi. Hey.” Steve angled towards Danny invitingly. “Danny, Ayumi Cotillard. Amy, Danny Williams.”
“Hello.” She looked Danny up and down, and smiled widely.
“And how do you guys know each other?” Danny asked. He instinctively liked her brash frankness.
“Oh, I used to babysit Steve and Mary when I was in High School.” She grinned at Steve.
“And, as babysitter’s go, you were pretty cool,” Steve said faux reluctantly.
“I was awesome,” she refuted. “Blanket forts, spies and agents, lava floor, and laser tag.”
“Laser tag?” Danny grinned.
“Not the laser tag that you’re thinking of.” Steve gestured with his wine glass. His fingers automatically made a gun shape around the stem -- the wine sloshed enthusiastically. “We used to string up a room with criss-crossing red wool, and then you had to try to get from one end of the room to the other without being burnt to a crisp by the lasers.”
Danny laughed. “Sounds like fun.”
Steve shrugged, but there was a glint in his eye, that bespoke of enjoyment. Danny hoped that there were photographs.
“I’ll let you guys catch up,” Danny said. “I’m going to find Chin and make sure he makes a note of this wine. I like it.”
Steve paused a beat. “Okay, sounds like a plan.”
Danny ambled off. It would do Steve some good to talk to someone who wasn’t directly involved with Seolh or the Navy.
~*~
Danny made a circle of the inner chamber, spoke briefly with Chin, ascertaining that, yes, he was familiar with the winery. Chatted with Mamo and Maru. He had seen Kahuna Keōua and managed to avoid him, although he was fairly sure that the man had clocked his presence. He had passed his condolences to the family, without explaining that he too had been on the freeway with Steve and their mother.
Inevitably, the circuit took him back to the veranda doors, and out into the garden. Steve was -- characteristically, the anti-social so-an-so -- right where Danny had left him, under the trees. Amy Cotillard had moved on.
Palms together, Steve had his hands up, forefingers touching his lips, as if praying.
He was a statue of thought.
Danny glanced across the lawn trying to see what had caught Steve’s attention. His gaze was fixed on the gently wind-wafted flags. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, Danny selected the camera option. As cameras went, he wasn’t massively impressed with the specifications of his camera phone, but needs must. He framed the first shot, going for a full body shot, framing Steve against the lush flowering hibiscus bush behind him. The blood-red splashes of colour, the flowers, were a startling contrast to the long line of liquorice string, which was all Steve, from his highly polished shoes, the bespoke black suit, and his dark, freshly cropped hair.
Zooming in, Danny framed the next shot, as close in as he was happy to do with the shitty camera -- balancing resolution with quality to capture perfection. Dappled sunlight through the tree canopy above Steve cast him in contrasting shadows and light as a cloud overhead drifted aside. Danny couldn’t have made Steve pose for a better shot. A flawless profile, details crisp, contrasts sharp -- Danny could be clinical -- all made for a superlative photograph. Danny sighed. He had captured thought.
He had captured Steve.
The smart phone prompted him as to whether or not the shot should be used as the phone’s wallpaper. He clicked ‘yes’.
Steve still hadn’t moved a millimetre. Setting aside the siren call of photography, Danny belatedly wondered if Steve was caught in another flashback. Cautiously, Danny angled around and walked towards Steve so he could be easily observed approaching.
“Babe?” Danny asked carefully.
“Mom was all about misdirection and magic tricks.” Steve said, turning a laser-intent glare on Danny.
“You all right?” Danny froze.
Abruptly, Steve pulled out his BlackBerry. Thumbs flicked back and forth, scrolling, no doubt, to the photographs.
“Flag of Alaska. Australian Flag. Papua New Guinea. They all have constellations.”
“And?” Danny asked, and stepped closer.
Steve thrust his hand out. One of the pictures of the coins was prominently displayed on his phone. It was the one with the diagonal line of three coins and the others cast to the corners.
“It’s the body of Orion, The Hunter. The constellation. It’s incomplete, though. There’s no shield of lion’s skin or club.”
“And?” Danny asked, seriously, not following.
Steve flicked through the images, stopping on the vase. “The archer is hunting the dragon.”
“Hunters?” Danny asked slowly. The Native American doll had a club, with a set of bow and arrows.
Steve was a step ahead of him, pulling up the photograph of the Lakota Plainsman. He tapped a button and the Manchu bannerman flicked onto the screen.
“Two hunters, warriors, soldiers,” Steve said.
“And the baby doll?” Danny ventured.
“I dunno. But the hunter is mom. Hunting a dragon,” Steve said darkly.
“Okay. Okay.” Danny held up a finger. “So the other picture of the coins? Is that a constellation? It looked messy to me. There was kind of a vee?”
Steve flipped to the image and glowered.
“Invoke the power of Google, my son,” Danny intoned.
Steve froze for a millisecond, thinking hard and then started keying the pad furiously. His focus was absolute. Craning his head, Danny watched, as Steve scrolled through pictures and then navigated to the first link that promised to supply a list of well known stars and constellations.
“Why don’t you Google constellations with, I dunno, eight or nine coins -- I mean stars? Danny asked.
“Because it’s probably also incomplete,” Steve said. “Mom didn’t intend on making this easy.”
Photographs of constellations -- some helpfully highlighted by joining lines, and others that were just vast, bright starscapes -- zoomed across the tiny screen. Steve stared, scowled, glowered, and rapidly moved on to scrutinise the next image in the collection.
“Show me Orion?” Danny asked.
Tongue caught between this teeth, Steve selected a link and angled his phone further for Danny’s benefit. There were lots of stars in the constellation -- more than the belt and body that Danny was vaguely familiar with. A faint drawing of a man overlaid the joined up dots of stars. Orion, improbably, held a dead lion in his left hand. His right arm was raised high, holding a club threateningly.
“Dead lion?” Danny asked, raising an eyebrow at Steve.
“Sometimes it’s a shield. Essentially, it’s a shield.”
“They taught you that in the Navy, eh?”
“Nah, Grandmother liked to stargaze. Astrology and legends.” Steve returned to flicking through the selections of images trying to find another constellation to match the vee image.
“But you are Navy; didn’t you also learn to navigate by the stars?” Danny gibed, when boredom set in. “Orion’s pretty well known.”
“Yes, but it’s incomplete. It’s just a line of coins -- Orion’s Belt,” Steve grumbled. “Fuckin--!”
“Steven,” Danny chastised as an affronted, elderly lady turned on her stilettos to tut at them.
“I don’t believe it. It’s the horns of Taurus, The Bull.” Once again, Steve thrust the phone towards Danny.
“The Bull, like the Nandi’s Head?” Danny said, jabbing two horns from his head with his fingers.
“Yes, the Bull,” Steve grated slowly. His gaze drifted introspectively to the speckled tree canopy. “Just like the Nandi Head.”
“We’ve searched the Nandi’s Head, Steve,” Danny said. “There’s nothing there.”
“The Hunter faces off against the Bull.” Steve abruptly segued further into silence, thinking hard.
Hunter faces off against the Bull, Danny pondered. Was Wo Fat, or more accurately, Wo Yongfu, the hunted Bull? Now that they had realised the thread of hunters that were apparent in the photographs.
“What do we do with constellations? Come on, Danny, you said before.”
“You navigate,” Danny said, because he wasn’t an idiot.
“Yeah, you navigate. Come on.” Steve stalked off, straight across the grass towards the open gates at the end of the lawn.
“What are we doing?” Danny chased after him.
“We’re going to flag down a taxi and go home to Seolh.”
~*~
Tbc
Part one hundred and one
Word count: ~3,800
Warning: skip The ‘Ohana attends a funeral.
Advisory: emotional rollercoaster; potty mouth; IT’S A WIP.
Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Comments: British English spelling, chance of more spelling/grammar mistakes
Spoilers: none, it’s an AU.
Betas: Springwoof -- 307, 797 words posted to date. You’ve been with me every step of the way. Thank you.
Last time of the Co-operative, Steve absently munching on a scab was considered really, really gross… But he can taste Danny’s sperm without comment.
ONE HUNDRED PARTS!
The first part is here,
The Co-operative.
By Sealie
Yippee ki yay…! Danny had thought that Steve would have worn his uniform for the funeral. No. Steve wore a new, ebony-black, classic-cut suit, crisply tailored for his current narrow breadth and weight. The accents on the pockets of his closely fitted waistcoat were the Seolh aquamarine-blue.
“Is that an eldritch knot?” Danny said weakly, transfixed by the Seolh-blue tie.
“Eldredge,” Steve corrected, as he affixed a Naval platinum tiepin below the folded, layered knot.
“Hhhhuuurrrr,” Danny managed, because he was bewitched.
Steve squinted at him, perplexed, clearly not following that Danny was about to climb him like a tree. Although, reluctantly, Danny knew that that wasn’t possible given that they were leaving for the funeral in less than fifteen minutes, but all bets were off when they came home.
Danny couldn’t resist sliding forwards. Steve had shaved closely, and his newly cropped hair had an endearing hint of a curl.
“You clean up good, Babe.”
Beaming, Steve smoothed the line of his waistcoat, accentuating his flat abdomen. He even had the chain of a pocket watch forming a perfect curve from the middle button to the tiny pocket on his left hand side. Wanting to mess with perfection, Danny tugged the aquamarine silk handkerchief in his suit breast pocket a little more prominently.
“Perfect.” Danny’s fingers itched for his camera.
“You’re smiling. You look really happy.” Steve pecked a kiss on Danny’s lips.
“Really? Oh?” Danny knew why: Steve looked healthy. It was a pleasure to see. The hollow cheeks had filled out, the drawn lines accentuating tiredness under his eyes were gone, and his eyes were bright.
“What?” Steve cocked his head to the side.
“You look good, Babe.” Danny smoothed his hands up the perfectly pressed lapels and around the back of Steve’s neck.
Obediently, Steve leaned in to kiss. “I like your suit too,” he murmured before delving down.
~*~
The limousine was big enough for the entire family. It felt as solid as a black hole, heavy with protective, ponderous weight as it powered along the Lunalilo freeway. When it had driven up the House drive, Danny had expected it to gouge deep furrows in the gravel. There were even flags on the hood.
Mamo and Maru were up front; Chin, Kono and Mary in the middle, with Steve and Danny taking up the rear seats. Steve was cool and collected, leg crossed over his knee, as if he was chauffeured in an ostentatious limousine every day. Assigned personnel were in the sedan before them and the SUV with black-tinted windows behind them.
Danny peered out of the limo windows as they came off the freeway, amidst twisting flyover and concrete barricaded roads, before hitting suburbia. A few pedestrians on the streets turned to watch. There was another limousine ahead. Danny guessed that there were going to be some seriously important guests at the funeral. Although was guest the proper term? He didn’t know.
They climbed higher, twisting and making a couple of sharp turns. As they crossed over a bridge, Danny read: Department of Veterans’ Affairs, National Cemetery, Punchbowl.
There were more vehicles on the road, all heading in the same direction. Perforce they slowed. They climbed higher and higher on the wide, circling road. The sidewalks were clean, the verges carefully maintained with colourful flowers and verdant bushes.
It was a bright, sunny day. Danny always wanted it to rain during funerals. Smoothly, they drove through the gates. Ahead of them the road split into two lanes on either side of a green central median. All three vehicles took the left-hand road after a brief discussion with the uniformed policeman standing before the half-mast flag. A marble edifice constructed of white tiers -- the steps of giants -- was at the end of the long drives.
Slow and measured, their limousine glided up the left hand drive. The giant steps resolved into individual white-dressed mausoleums stacked on either side of a wide set of steps leading up to a statue of a lady looking down from an ascetic building built of lines and angles. It spoke to Danny of the proud figurehead arising from a ship’s prow.
Danny made a mental note to visit the cemetery when he wasn’t attending a funeral. Their car filed in behind the sedan, coasting to a halt, parking on the side of the road by a pink flagstone area before the steps. Lines of folding chairs were set out neatly on the open space.
“Sir--” the chauffeur turned to face them but his voice came over the in-house microphone, “--please remain in the vehicle until Lieutenant Simons joins us.”
Steve carefully resituated his tie a millimetre.
“Wo Fat’s not going to do anything here,” Steve said, and exited the vehicle.
“Whoops, Stevie on a mission. Defying authority.” Mary piled out after him, the wide skirt of her black and red poppy dress flaring around her.
“Geez.” Danny scrambled behind them.
The pair were simply standing in the middle of the road. The air was warm and sweet. A gentle breeze lifted Mary’s fine, flyaway hair.
“Auntie Pat,” Mary suddenly blurted.
“Yes,” Steve said simply. He caught her hand, and Mary let herself be held.
Danny fell in behind them, following them to the seats.
They had assigned seats up in the second rank of seats in front of the milling uniformed schoolchildren lining up at the base of the steps. There was a large photographic portrait of the governor set on an easel beside the choir. Cursory nods and quiet greetings murmured across the space as the multitude found their seats. Danny sat between Steve and Kono, Mary and Chin on either side. Maru and Mamo were behind them, flanked by heavy-set male Navy officers.
The man standing before the choir lifted his hands, and obediently the children quietened and moved to their assigned positions. The air was of waiting.
A grey haired man, with a chiselled lantern jaw, walked down the centre aisle. At his side a younger man wearing the same face, but unlined and softer-angled, shadowed him. A woman, her light blonde hair tousled in the breeze, walked arm in arm with a soberly dressed man, unremarkable and unmemorable. Governor Jameson’s immediate family, Danny guessed. The supposition was supported by the attendance of Acting Governor Denning walking soberly in their wake.
The conductor was watching them closely. As they took their position at the front of the assembly he raised his baton. Unexpectedly, the woman, Governor Jameson’s daughter, moved from her husband-partner’s mantling wing, and skirted along the rank of chairs, past Governor Denning and his wife.
“Steve,” she said, on making her way to their position.
“Charlie? Hey.” Steve reached out and caught her questing hand over the back of the chairs separating them.
The angle forced by reaching over the chairs was uncomfortable, but she pulled Steve into a hug.
“Thank you,” she said softly, wetly.
“Hey. Hey,” Steve soothed.
“We’ll talk later.” She kissed his cheek and pulled away, to return to her family.
Palpable relief lightened Steve’s taut stance to parade rest, hands crossed behind his back, feet shoulder width apart.
The choir master took her return to her family’s fold to re-lift his baton. A clear treble sang out. The boy’s voice was pure, the tone clean with no unnecessary trills and breathy sounds. Danny had clutch of cousins and second cousins, who had attended or were attending the American Boychoir School in Princeton. Great Uncle Thomas was an institution at the school, and vetted every single boy of the Williams clan to ascertain if they could sing. Danny had been to more choir performances than he could count.
The kid was good. The choir master was an accomplished director. The cant of the choral work was Hawaiian. Danny, unsurprisingly, didn’t recognise it, but he was really tempted to ask for a recording to send to Uncle Thomas.
As the final notes ebbed, Governor Denning took the podium between the portrait and the choir. He waited until ponderous silence echoed across the cemetery.
Danny looked for that internal place where he followed what was happening, but didn’t listen. He did not like funerals. Did anyone, he wondered.
The eulogy washed over him.
~*~
The choir performed a second work after the series of speakers finished extolling the virtues of Patricia Jameson, closing the formal part of the ceremony. There was a long moment while attendees waited for direction, before Governor Denning announced that there was a wake at the Governor’s Mansion.
The shuffle and murmur was an abrupt disturbance after the silence. People started to move.
“Steve?” Mary leaned around Steve so he could see her face. “Are we?”
“We should,” he said cryptically.
“Okay, right.” Mary visibly braced herself.
“Be right back,” Steve said tersely.
“Uhm?” Danny began.
But they were already working their way through the milling crowd. Backs straight, pace measured, walking side by side, their siblinghood was tangible. Their goal was off at a tangent from the seating arena, and in the opposite direction from their protection detail and the milling crowd.
“They’re not going far,” Chin explained to Simons. “Their parents’ gravestone is in the grounds, just beyond those trees.”
Stalwart banyan trees, lining the walk up to the memorial, guarded the fallen.
“Noted.” Simons followed his charges, but stayed respectfully back.
Danny watched. Past the promenade, a vast field, far too many servicemen and women, stretched across the Punchbowl. Steve knew where he was going with unerring accuracy. As one, both McGarretts stopped, heads bowed before a simple flat headstone.
The family waited patiently.
~*~
Danny had thought that they were going to the Governor’s residence for the wake, but confusingly there were two residences. The oldest had been the official home of Queen Lili’uokalani of Hawaii, before she had been arrested during the coup d’état that eventually led to the overthrow of the Kingdom of Hawaii. The governor actually lived in the residence behind the mansion, which had been built in the late 1990s so that the history of the original mansion could be preserved for all.
It reminded Danny of the ‘Iolani Palace, which they had visited for the Christmas Ball, but more intimate. A buffet had been set up in a stately chambered hall, with a ceiling of overly ornate wooden interlocking beams, but some of the guests had meandered through the open doors into the gardens.
A waiter passed with a silver tray balanced with glasses of white and red wine. Danny wasn’t driving, so he snapped up a frosted white wine glass and a red. The red wine he handed off to Mary.
“Oh, thank you.” She took a deep quaff.
Danny matched her.
“Not fun,” Mary summarised, quietly.
“No,” Danny agreed watching the family holding court before a rank of supplicants, mourners and those merely interested in being seen by the throng. He volunteered, “I haven’t been… I’ve not been the centre of attention at a funeral before.”
Mary sighed. “When mom and dad died I was pretty young. I remember the day. It sucked. I dunno. It didn’t make any sense. I didn’t know what to do.”
Danny didn’t know what to say. He opted for clinking his glass against her glass.
“To your mom and dad.”
“And to finding who killed them and making them pay,” Mary growled.
“Steve’s working on that,” Danny said lowly.
“Yeah.”
They both turned to regard Steve, who was speaking with Mr. Jameson off to the side from the throng. Steve was nodding soberly, and intently, at Mr. Jameson’s words. Finally, Mr. Jameson patted Steve’s shoulder. Steve shrugged depreciatively, a little shy.
‘Son,’ Mr. Jameson clearly mouthed, and offered his hand.
“Good,” Mary said as they shook hands. “I suppose I better go over.”
“You want me to come with?” Danny offered.
“Nah.” Mary shrugged. “I’ll be girl talking with Charlie. Go give Stevie a hug. He looks like he needs one.”
Danny watched her stride off, before heading over to Steve via the smörgåsbord. He snagged a few choice morsels for them to share. Crab puffs, smoked salmon and Roquefort cheese on tiny crackers, juicy shrimps, vegetable spring rolls, fresh fruit and savoury sausages on little sticks, plus skewers of fried chicken drizzled with satay sauce for himself. Cleverly, the plates had little clip hangers that you could suspend your wine glass from.
“Hey, Babe,” Danny slid into Steve’s orbit with all the skill of an aircraft carrier, telegraphing his approach.
“Danny,” Steve returned.
“A lot of guests. I guess you know most of them?” Danny set himself beside Steve, plate held prominently, so that they could both graze.
“I know a lot. Not everyone.” Steve munched on a crab vol-au-vent.
“Is Kahuna Creepypasta here?” Danny looked around, because normally when he thought about the man, he promptly appeared.
“I saw Kahuna Keōua earlier,” Steve said mildly.
“Mmmm.” Danny continued to check, but didn’t spot the man.
Steve snagged the wine glass perched on the edge of the plate, and took a sip.
“Nice,” he mused.
Danny flagged over another waiter and got another sweating glass of white wine.
“What is this?” he asked the young man.
“Grüner Veltliner from New Zealand, sir. The Pinot Noir is also from the Yealand’s Estate.” With a nod, the waiter moved off to serve more guests.
“You want to walk out into the gardens?” Danny made a step towards the open glass doors to the outside world.
Steve obediently followed. It was a lovely, tropical January day in Hawaii and the sun was shining. Danny scrunched his nose up and led them to the protective shadow of a tree. They weren’t the only ones that had sought out the midday sun and light breezes rather than the chamber. A pristine green lawn stretched before them, flanked by flagpoles adorned with a multitude of half-mast flags. The light breeze made them flap dispiritedly.
“What’s the one with Hawaii written in the centre of the circle of stars?” Danny asked.
Steve stared at him. “I forget that you haven’t been on the islands that long. It’s the flag of the Governor of Hawaii. The others are--”
“American State flags,” Danny supplied.
“Some of them. Some are for countries,” Steve said, pointing. “Australia with the Southern Cross.”
Danny rolled his eyes.
Steve grinned.
“Drink your wine, Babe,” Danny directed.
“Steve McGarrett. Well, hello. You look well.” An Asian woman, maybe their age or a little older, paced over. Her waist-length black hair swished with each step.
“Ayumi. Hey.” Steve angled towards Danny invitingly. “Danny, Ayumi Cotillard. Amy, Danny Williams.”
“Hello.” She looked Danny up and down, and smiled widely.
“And how do you guys know each other?” Danny asked. He instinctively liked her brash frankness.
“Oh, I used to babysit Steve and Mary when I was in High School.” She grinned at Steve.
“And, as babysitter’s go, you were pretty cool,” Steve said faux reluctantly.
“I was awesome,” she refuted. “Blanket forts, spies and agents, lava floor, and laser tag.”
“Laser tag?” Danny grinned.
“Not the laser tag that you’re thinking of.” Steve gestured with his wine glass. His fingers automatically made a gun shape around the stem -- the wine sloshed enthusiastically. “We used to string up a room with criss-crossing red wool, and then you had to try to get from one end of the room to the other without being burnt to a crisp by the lasers.”
Danny laughed. “Sounds like fun.”
Steve shrugged, but there was a glint in his eye, that bespoke of enjoyment. Danny hoped that there were photographs.
“I’ll let you guys catch up,” Danny said. “I’m going to find Chin and make sure he makes a note of this wine. I like it.”
Steve paused a beat. “Okay, sounds like a plan.”
Danny ambled off. It would do Steve some good to talk to someone who wasn’t directly involved with Seolh or the Navy.
~*~
Danny made a circle of the inner chamber, spoke briefly with Chin, ascertaining that, yes, he was familiar with the winery. Chatted with Mamo and Maru. He had seen Kahuna Keōua and managed to avoid him, although he was fairly sure that the man had clocked his presence. He had passed his condolences to the family, without explaining that he too had been on the freeway with Steve and their mother.
Inevitably, the circuit took him back to the veranda doors, and out into the garden. Steve was -- characteristically, the anti-social so-an-so -- right where Danny had left him, under the trees. Amy Cotillard had moved on.
Palms together, Steve had his hands up, forefingers touching his lips, as if praying.
He was a statue of thought.
Danny glanced across the lawn trying to see what had caught Steve’s attention. His gaze was fixed on the gently wind-wafted flags. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, Danny selected the camera option. As cameras went, he wasn’t massively impressed with the specifications of his camera phone, but needs must. He framed the first shot, going for a full body shot, framing Steve against the lush flowering hibiscus bush behind him. The blood-red splashes of colour, the flowers, were a startling contrast to the long line of liquorice string, which was all Steve, from his highly polished shoes, the bespoke black suit, and his dark, freshly cropped hair.
Zooming in, Danny framed the next shot, as close in as he was happy to do with the shitty camera -- balancing resolution with quality to capture perfection. Dappled sunlight through the tree canopy above Steve cast him in contrasting shadows and light as a cloud overhead drifted aside. Danny couldn’t have made Steve pose for a better shot. A flawless profile, details crisp, contrasts sharp -- Danny could be clinical -- all made for a superlative photograph. Danny sighed. He had captured thought.
He had captured Steve.
The smart phone prompted him as to whether or not the shot should be used as the phone’s wallpaper. He clicked ‘yes’.
Steve still hadn’t moved a millimetre. Setting aside the siren call of photography, Danny belatedly wondered if Steve was caught in another flashback. Cautiously, Danny angled around and walked towards Steve so he could be easily observed approaching.
“Babe?” Danny asked carefully.
“Mom was all about misdirection and magic tricks.” Steve said, turning a laser-intent glare on Danny.
“You all right?” Danny froze.
Abruptly, Steve pulled out his BlackBerry. Thumbs flicked back and forth, scrolling, no doubt, to the photographs.
“Flag of Alaska. Australian Flag. Papua New Guinea. They all have constellations.”
“And?” Danny asked, and stepped closer.
Steve thrust his hand out. One of the pictures of the coins was prominently displayed on his phone. It was the one with the diagonal line of three coins and the others cast to the corners.
“It’s the body of Orion, The Hunter. The constellation. It’s incomplete, though. There’s no shield of lion’s skin or club.”
“And?” Danny asked, seriously, not following.
Steve flicked through the images, stopping on the vase. “The archer is hunting the dragon.”
“Hunters?” Danny asked slowly. The Native American doll had a club, with a set of bow and arrows.
Steve was a step ahead of him, pulling up the photograph of the Lakota Plainsman. He tapped a button and the Manchu bannerman flicked onto the screen.
“Two hunters, warriors, soldiers,” Steve said.
“And the baby doll?” Danny ventured.
“I dunno. But the hunter is mom. Hunting a dragon,” Steve said darkly.
“Okay. Okay.” Danny held up a finger. “So the other picture of the coins? Is that a constellation? It looked messy to me. There was kind of a vee?”
Steve flipped to the image and glowered.
“Invoke the power of Google, my son,” Danny intoned.
Steve froze for a millisecond, thinking hard and then started keying the pad furiously. His focus was absolute. Craning his head, Danny watched, as Steve scrolled through pictures and then navigated to the first link that promised to supply a list of well known stars and constellations.
“Why don’t you Google constellations with, I dunno, eight or nine coins -- I mean stars? Danny asked.
“Because it’s probably also incomplete,” Steve said. “Mom didn’t intend on making this easy.”
Photographs of constellations -- some helpfully highlighted by joining lines, and others that were just vast, bright starscapes -- zoomed across the tiny screen. Steve stared, scowled, glowered, and rapidly moved on to scrutinise the next image in the collection.
“Show me Orion?” Danny asked.
Tongue caught between this teeth, Steve selected a link and angled his phone further for Danny’s benefit. There were lots of stars in the constellation -- more than the belt and body that Danny was vaguely familiar with. A faint drawing of a man overlaid the joined up dots of stars. Orion, improbably, held a dead lion in his left hand. His right arm was raised high, holding a club threateningly.
“Dead lion?” Danny asked, raising an eyebrow at Steve.
“Sometimes it’s a shield. Essentially, it’s a shield.”
“They taught you that in the Navy, eh?”
“Nah, Grandmother liked to stargaze. Astrology and legends.” Steve returned to flicking through the selections of images trying to find another constellation to match the vee image.
“But you are Navy; didn’t you also learn to navigate by the stars?” Danny gibed, when boredom set in. “Orion’s pretty well known.”
“Yes, but it’s incomplete. It’s just a line of coins -- Orion’s Belt,” Steve grumbled. “Fuckin--!”
“Steven,” Danny chastised as an affronted, elderly lady turned on her stilettos to tut at them.
“I don’t believe it. It’s the horns of Taurus, The Bull.” Once again, Steve thrust the phone towards Danny.
“The Bull, like the Nandi’s Head?” Danny said, jabbing two horns from his head with his fingers.
“Yes, the Bull,” Steve grated slowly. His gaze drifted introspectively to the speckled tree canopy. “Just like the Nandi Head.”
“We’ve searched the Nandi’s Head, Steve,” Danny said. “There’s nothing there.”
“The Hunter faces off against the Bull.” Steve abruptly segued further into silence, thinking hard.
Hunter faces off against the Bull, Danny pondered. Was Wo Fat, or more accurately, Wo Yongfu, the hunted Bull? Now that they had realised the thread of hunters that were apparent in the photographs.
“What do we do with constellations? Come on, Danny, you said before.”
“You navigate,” Danny said, because he wasn’t an idiot.
“Yeah, you navigate. Come on.” Steve stalked off, straight across the grass towards the open gates at the end of the lawn.
“What are we doing?” Danny chased after him.
“We’re going to flag down a taxi and go home to Seolh.”
~*~
Tbc
Part one hundred and one
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Date: 2014-08-09 12:39 am (UTC)Then I totally looked up constellations. Steve and Danny are going to be in big trouble if they leave without their protection.
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Date: 2014-08-09 12:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-10 08:10 am (UTC)Yes, Steve are going to be in trouble. Naughty boys.
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Date: 2014-08-10 08:11 am (UTC)Part of what the Co-op is for me, is indulging in that detail and painting a picture with words.
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Date: 2014-08-13 12:57 pm (UTC)And yay for NZ wine, although I don't know of the first one you mentioned.
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Date: 2014-08-15 11:43 pm (UTC)Those last lines though, certain security details will be none too pleased :)
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Date: 2014-08-16 08:01 am (UTC)Congrats on the 100th chapter!
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Date: 2014-08-16 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-16 10:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-16 10:06 pm (UTC)thanks for noticing. I can't believe that it's been 100 episodes and over 300,000 words.
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Date: 2014-08-17 12:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-18 07:50 pm (UTC)