I own nothing...
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That night, after another nightmare, Steve found himself pacing back and forth across his bedroom floor. He couldn't take much more of it; these dreams were driving him crazy. Leaving may not be an option, but Steve still found himself leaning toward it.
True, Danny would probably find him, and there was no escaping what was going on in his head, but it would get him away for a while. Get away from the people he really didn't trust. Besides Danny, he really couldn't trust his team; not fully. And, yes, he knew they didn't actually say those things to him, but how did he know they weren't thinking them.
He was over thinking things, he knew it, but maybe he had to over think these things. And maybe he had to leave, get his head on straight, in order for him to get better.
He moved across the room, pulling a bag from his closet. A few days wouldn't hurt him; Danny could keep track of Five-0. It wasn't like when he was younger, and felt obligated to visit his dad, he planned on coming back.
Once packed, he crept out of his room and down the stairs. Already knowing Grace was in his guest room, he just had to get by Danny. The blond man was crashed out on Steve's couch, the TV on.
Steve stopped next to his partner, watching him for a second. Yeah, he'd be a good leader, just until Steve could get past all this crap. Steve trusted Danny with Five-0, he trusted Danny with a lot of things. And he'd understand…
Well, he wouldn't, but Steve could believe for just a moment that he would. Shaking his head, he flipped the television off, threw his mother's old duvet over Danny, and walked toward the kitchen. Stopping for a second, he scribbled a note on the back of a receipt, left it where Danny would see it, and headed out the back…
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Danny woke the next morning, pushing a duvet off himself. He couldn't remember pulling the cover over himself, but he must have; just like he must have turned the television off.
He rolled off Steve's couch, his back bitching at him. He grumbled under his breath and moved into the kitchen, intending to make a pot of coffee, but stopped when he spotted the scribbled note attached to the fridge.
He moved toward it, snatching the old receipt from the metal surface, his eyebrows furrowing when he read the message. He crumpled it up, shaking his head, his phone in his hand, only to freeze.
He straightened the note again, reading it a second time:
Please don't try looking for me. Though, I know you will anyway. I just need some time.
Danny read the note twice more before slumping against the counter. He was torn between racing after Steve and dragging his ass back here or letting the SEAL go off on his own. What he wanted to do and what was right were arguing back and forth, both wanting his attention. Could he let Steve take off, leave his life behind, let Bates win?
"Fuck that," Danny muttered looking back at his screen. He was going after Steve. He couldn't let him go through this alone, he wouldn't let Bates win. He'd find Steve, he had to...
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OK, I know I said this was done, but I realized it wasn't really fair to you guys when I just abruptly ended it. Plus, a recent review figuratively 'kicked me in the ass' and had me write this epilogue. I hope it sets up the sequel I promised (which is coming when I finish a couple of my projects... not sure if I already said that or not, so I will say it again).
So, yeah, thanks so much for reading this. I hope this makes up for the abrupt ending (and if it doesn't, well I understand), and I appreciate all the reviews and alerts this story got.
See ya in the sequel...