Disclaimers and Notes: Not mine, never will be. I haven't watched much of season two, so the timeline on this is deliberately vague. Written for the Canadian Shack Challenge in one sitting, when I noticed the number of stories posted was just shy of being over 101 total. Not beta read.
Warnings: Implied sexual violence, references to torture and kidnapping. Not beta'd and written in one sitting.
Additional tags: Stealth crossover, angst, hurt/comfort
Where You Are
by Raine Wynd
A rundown-looking cabin in a remote part of Canada was the last place Steve expected Danny to be, but it somehow felt fitting. Three years was a long enough time for people to change, but Steve couldn't forget the way Danny loved him. They'd had something amazing, something incredible, and then – Steve shook himself as the memories threatened to overwhelm him. The way Danny had looked after Wo Fat's goons had worked him over, broken and bleeding and near death – something had broken inside of Steve too that day. It hadn't been all that surprising when Danny had left Hawaii shortly after being discharged in the hospital; not even Grace could make him stay that time.
Danny stood on the porch, staring at him. The years had aged him; he looked thinner than Steve remembered, and the steel brace covering his bad knee said volumes. "If you're coming in, come in, shut the door, and sit down," Danny said shortly, and limped back inside the small structure.
Breathing a sigh of relief that his ex-partner hadn't kicked him out yet, Steve took up the reluctant invitation. To his surprise, it was surprisingly cozy. One corner held the kitchen, complete with a table for two; the center served as the living room, with a wood-burning fireplace and a caramel-colored sofa; the far corner was set up as the bedroom suite. A skylight that doubled as a solar panel sent a shaft of pale winter sunlight into the living area.
Danny said nothing as Steve surveyed the space, and the quiet bothered Steve. The man he'd loved had been unable to stop speaking, it seemed.
Abruptly nervous, Steve turned to face him. "This isn't how I pictured this would be."
Danny snorted. He made his way over to the coffeemaker by the stove, reached for a mug, and poured a cup. Wordlessly, he offered it to Steve, who took it, needing the warmth.
Steve sat down on the sofa as Danny dragged a chair over from the kitchen. The winter cold was brisk, and though Steve had dressed for the weather, he'd been out in it longer than he'd anticipated. For a long moment, he said nothing and just waited for the warmth of the fire to seep through him.
"Look, I need you," Steve began, only to watch Danny wave off the words.
"Save the speech for someone who doesn't know you," Danny said, and pulled out his cell phone. Dropping it onto the coffee table, he said, "I heard."
Steve stared at it, unable to comprehend its existence – or that the last caller had been Kono. "They told me no one knew how to contact you." He set the coffee cup down on the table with a rattle. "They said you didn't even have a phone. The last wireless tower's back in town –"
Danny snorted again. "There you go, believing everything the government tells you," he said, sounding amused. "This is also a Mountie outpost; there's more equipment in the shed out back than I know what do with. And the answer, babe, is yes, I'm coming back, but I'm not running after you anymore. Can't run that far any more, and I thought I could. Turns out the only place I'm happy is where you are."
Steve lifted his eyes to Danny. "I thought you never wanted to come back," he said, shocked. "You said –"
"—a lot of shit I didn't mean because I was afraid," Danny said gently. "Thought you knew when I was just bitching."
"But the tapes –"
Danny's face darkened. "You listened to that crock of made-up shit? I never said that crap and meant it; I thought you knew that." He looked at Steve and swore. "I love you, you idiot. I didn't want to come back until I could stand to be around people again. Until I could trust that I could be the partner you needed. Until I knew I wouldn't mind your hands on me, loving me."
Steve had read the report, but he hadn't quite digested what the ramifications of being tortured and kidnapped were to a guy like Danny, who'd never pushed himself to the razor's edge of sanity while under extreme physical duress and while having some drill instructor screaming in his ear about just what kind of man buckled until that intensity. Intellectually, Steve had known, but to go as far away from everything as a man could get – Abruptly, Steve realized that somehow, he'd gotten the sanitized report, the one that Danny had wanted him to see. He swallowed hard. "You could've sent me a message."
Now Danny favored him with a knowing smile. "And have you blow up Wo Fat's grave too on top of strangling and shooting him? Set fire to his many warehouses? Oh, wait, I heard you did that already. I had my orders, too, babe, and one of them was to make sure you didn't join me out here in crazyland." He paused. "Someone had to keep Grace in line, make sure she was okay after everything. I certainly couldn't, and not be the father she needed me to be."
"Damn it, Danny –" Steve ground out, rising. Steve had had three years of missing his partner, of missing his lover, of wondering if Danny was ever going to be okay wherever the hell he was, and wishing he hadn't somehow befriended a pair of Chicago cops who had steadfastly refused to say where Danny had gone until Steve had made it clear that H50 needed his skills. Steve didn’t quite believe the explanation for Danny's continued absence could be distilled so succinctly. "That's not enough of a reason."
"Sure it is," Danny said with a smile. "We've run on less justification than that," he pointed out, and laughed when Steve glared at him. "Oh, babe, I wish I had a camera right now," Danny said, chuckling, as he met Steve halfway and kissed him. Passion had never been a problem between them, and the familiar blaze scorched as it ignited, making Steve remember just why he'd been so unsuccessful at forgetting this particular man.
"Just shut up, Steve. We'll go home tomorrow, when the chopper comes," Danny said, kissing him again. "Tomorrow, you can tell me all about how terrorists are taking over your island, and we'll talk about the thousand reasons why this is still a bad idea, will always be a bad idea, and why it's likely all your fault, but tonight is for us." As he spoke, Danny's hands worked the layers of clothing Steve wore, unzipping his coat, digging underneath the shirts he wore, stripping him bare. "And if you tell me you've never had a fantasy of fucking out in the woods somewhere, I'll pretend I never told you I liked that night you took me on your beach, under the stars, making the fantasy I never knew I even had come true."
Heat shot through Steve at his lover's words, but he was unwilling to let Danny have all the control. "Never," he swore, and Danny laughed, but Danny's hands had found the prize they'd sought, and Steve had never been able to resist the firm but tender way Danny stroked him. Silently promising himself he'd make Danny lose control much, much later, Steve gave himself over to his lover, rejoicing as he did so that Danny still wanted him after all this time. Whatever happened next wasn't going to be easy, but Steve had faith that they'd work it out.
End notes: The reasons Danny ran so far are tied up in the torture I'd rather not write, so I'll spare you the details. Suffice to say, it was ugly, and Grace was hurt, and Danny went through a lot of therapy to get to this point. A pair of Chicago cops who know all too much about what it's like to need to be someone else for a while helped. I might write that story someday; we'll see.