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Family business	By : mermaidnz Category: G through L > Hawaii Five-0 (2010) > Hawaii Five-0 (2010) Views: 4022 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-0, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Spoilers: only minor ones for early Season 1 episodes – it's an AU where Danny arrives in Hawaii after Steve does, and isn't a member of Five-0.
Word count: 4,200 words for this chapter.
Warnings: non-graphic violence. Angst regarding possible 'Genetic Sexual Attraction' between adults who may be closely related. References to adult cousins in a consensual romantic relationship.
Author's notes: I am aware that this fic's subject matter may not be to everyone's taste; please do read the warnings first. This is a WIP, so I make no promises about the story's total length or how long it'll take to complete.

***
CHAPTER ONE
Just past noon on his first day with HPD, Danny Williams glances around the bullpen and then accesses the file on Jack McGarrett's murder.
The man was shot in a home invasion, almost two months ago; beyond that, the records are frustratingly vague. Meka Hanamoa was appointed as lead detective, but several days later the investigation was transferred – along with Hanamoa himself – to the Governor of Hawaii's special taskforce. Though the McGarrett case is now marked as closed, there are no details on the perp or what happened to him.
Weird, Danny thinks.
The room is pretty much empty, the other detectives at lunch or out on cases. But a shaven-headed guy in his 40s is at a nearby desk, frowning at something on his own screen.
Danny racks his brain for the guy's name – he met so many people this morning – and then says, "Yo, Ahuna. What can you tell me about the Governor's taskforce?"
Ahuna drags his attention away from his computer and snorts derisively.
"They call themselves Five-0, now; fuck knows why. The boss is a crazy-ass Rambo type who never wore a badge before, but his partner used to work here...you got hired to replace him, actually. Then they've got a dirty ex-cop, who most of HPD wouldn't piss on if he caught fire, and a surfer chick turned rookie who's a real firecracker. The four of them run around, guns blazing, like they own the fucking island. They steal our best cases and get all the glory."
Local LEOs often mouth off about rival agencies, especially the Feds, but Ahuna's rant seems fueled by a more personal kind of resentment. So Danny just focuses on the most promising part. "A firecracker, huh? What's her name?"
Danny has a weakness for feisty women, God knows – Rachel is living proof. He likes feisty men, too, though he hasn't dated so many of those.
"Forget about it," Ahuna advises him. "Kono's married."
"Damn," Danny says. "Can you point me at Five-0's HQ anyway? They were investigating a case I'm interested in. The vic was an old family friend, and I promised my folks I'd find out what happened."
It's the truth, vaguely, but Danny has no intention of being more specific with a guy he's known all of three hours. Luckily, Ahuna doesn't ask; he just rattles off directions to a building several blocks away.
"Thanks, man."
When Ahuna doesn't respond, Danny heads downstairs and starts walking. Even in November, it's warm enough to be out in shirtsleeves. Though Danny never thought he'd miss the Jersey winter, Hawaii's weather seems downright unnatural to him.
The Iolani Palace is old, but the taskforce's base is new and shiny. There's a table in the central area which seems to be a big touchscreen computer. Newark PD has nothing like this, and Danny bets HPD doesn't either. Being the Governor's pet initiative obviously has its advantages.
There's nobody in sight, and Danny assumes they're all out to lunch. He'll have to come back later. And then a tall, dark-haired guy walks out of an office, and stops dead when he sees Danny.
Danny had already decided what to tell these Five-0 people: a more detailed version of the story he gave Ahuna, at least to start with. But now he's lost for words. This guy is beyond hot...he's beautiful, and Danny's hit by a rush of instant, overwhelming attraction. The last time he felt like this, a stunning brunette had just stepped out of her dented car, all cute accent and flustered apologies.
The guy looks Danny up and down, his gaze an odd mix of threat assessment and come-on. Danny gets checked out this blatantly in gay bars, sometimes, but it's never happened when both interested parties are wearing badges and guns.
After what feels like a long silence, the guy asks, "Can I help you?"
Even if the attraction is mutual, Danny didn't come here to flirt. So he pulls himself together and says, "I hope so. Did you work the Jack McGarrett case back in September?"
To Danny's surprise, the guy clenches his fists; a muscle visibly twitches in his jaw. "Yeah, I did. You're with HPD?"
"I am, as of this morning," Danny says, "but I'm actually here in a more personal capacity. I think I'm McGarrett's son."
The guy's mouth drops open. "You're what?"
"The long-lost illegitimate son of Jack McGarrett, or so my mother told me last week," Danny says, not sure why he's spilling his secret to a stranger...a stranger whose face has paled as Danny's spoken. This guy must have known McGarrett, to be taking the news so personally. Maybe he's one of those ex-HPD detectives Ahuna mentioned.
When no reply is forthcoming, Danny holds out his hand. "I'm Danny Williams."
The guy's grip is surprisingly loose for such a strong man, and he shakes like he's on autopilot. Still, the touch of his warm hand makes Danny's skin tingle.
"Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett. Jack McGarrett was my father."
***
Danny drops the guy's hand like he's been electrocuted. Holy fucking hell, he's just been having lustful thoughts about his brother. Half-brother, yeah, but still...
"Sorry," he manages. "I wouldn't have blurted it out like that if I'd known. His obituary said you were in the Navy, so I wasn't expecting to actually meet you – or not yet, anyway."
Steve folds his arms across his chest. "I stayed in Hawaii so I could catch my father's killer, then I transferred to the Reserves to run this taskforce."
"And did you find the bastard?"
"I put two bullets in his chest," Steve says, "and he fell into the ocean."
Danny nods. "Good."
Shaking his head a little, as though trying to clear it, Steve makes an impatient gesture.
"Look, maybe you knew I existed but this is the first I've ever heard of you. I'm gonna need some ID, some genetic evidence, and some kind of explanation before I believe anything you say."
Steve's right hand comes to rest an inch from his holstered gun, and Danny swallows hard.
"No problem," he says evenly. He can't blame Steve for being hostile; the guy just lost his dad, and now Danny's dropped this bombshell out of the blue. "Here's my ID, to start with."
Without making any sudden moves, he pulls out his wallet and brand-new detective's badge and hands them over. Steve immediately disappears into his office – to call HPD and confirm Danny's status, most likely. Danny takes deep, calming breaths as he waits, but his heart's still pounding.
"Okay," Steve says, once he's returned with Danny's ID. "You're willing to submit to genetic tests?"
"My DNA is at your disposal," Danny tells him, spreading his hands. "I'm about as curious as you are to learn if it's true, since all my life I assumed Ma's husband was my father. I'm still finding it hard to process, myself."
"Right," Steve says. "Well, I guess we can get the local M.E. to do the testing, in an unofficial capacity. Max Bergman is a weird guy, but he's damn good at his job. I'll call and ask him to see us after work."
"Sounds good." Danny checks the time. "Hey, I gotta head back to the precinct. It's my first day at HPD, so there's all this orientation shit to get through."
"Give me your number, and I'll text you to confirm about tonight."
Steve is all business now. Danny wonders if it's just the shock, or if he's generally locked down when it comes to actual human emotions.
They exchange numbers, and Danny tries very hard not to notice how small an iPhone looks in Steve's big hand. God, he wishes Ahuna had told him the name of the 'crazy-ass Rambo' back at the station. Walking in here knowing he'd encounter Jack's son – other son – would surely have prevented this.
Danny's life is messy enough as it is; developing a creepy attraction to his half-brother is the last thing he needs.
***
It's hard to concentrate on the interminable bureaucracy that takes up the rest of Danny's first day. Sergeant Lukela shows him around the precinct, mid-afternoon, which at least gets him away from his desk. The old guy has been with HPD his whole career, so he's full of stories. Danny gradually works the conversation around to Jack McGarrett.
"When I was doing some online research about this department, I saw you'd lost one of your retired officers in a recent home invasion...I think the name was Mac-something?"
Lukela sighs. "McGarrett. Yeah, that was rough. Jack was a good man and a great detective – one of the best when it came to training up new guys, too. Some of the finest cops on this force served as his rookie partner."
He frowns, momentarily, then adds, "And now his son's wound up in law enforcement, which Jack never wanted."
Danny knows Lukela is talking about Steve, but it still gives him a chill. He himself had always felt drawn towards policing, despite having no family or friends on the job. Maybe some things really are genetic.
Late afternoon, Danny gets a text telling him to meet Steve and Dr. Bergman at 6pm. He looks up the HPD directory, and finds that the M.E.'s office is just two blocks away. Danny taps out a painstaking reply, still getting used to his new smartphone. Grace, aged eight, can already text faster than he can.
It's a slow day, homicide-wise, so most of the others knock off around 5pm. One of HPD's few female detectives, Reyes, stops by Danny's desk and says, "Hey, Williams, wanna grab a drink with me?"
Danny hesitates, and she holds up her hands defensively. "It's not a pick-up line; I'm happily married. Just a 'welcome aboard' kind of thing, okay?"
"Okay, great," Danny says. "Can we go somewhere close by, though? I want to come back here and finish this damn paperwork."
Reyes laughs. "Sure, if you like. But HR operates on island time, to be honest, so there's really no hurry to get it all done tonight."
She leads him to a cop bar down the street, where she orders a local brew called a Longboard. Danny sticks to water: he wants to keep a clear head for dealing with Steve, and doesn't want to risk the alcohol messing with the DNA swab.
"So what's your first name, Reyes? I didn't catch it, earlier, when the Lieutenant was doing the introductions."
"Girlie."
Danny blinks at her, confused, and she sighs. "Yes, that's my actual name – it's Filipino. I only go by Reyes, on the job. It's hard enough to get taken seriously as a female detective without having a name people laugh at."
"Okay," Danny says. "Reyes it is."
"You got a nickname, Williams?"
"I do, but only my daughter is allowed to use it. Danny is just fine."
Reyes grins. "Oh, how old is your daughter? My Marissa just turned ten."
They get into a whole conversation about their kids, after that, and Reyes suggests a bunch of local places Danny could take Grace on his custody weekends. It's relaxed and easy, and the time pretty much flies by.
***
Danny excuses himself at a quarter of six, and heads to the M.E.'s office. He finds Steve waiting in the corridor outside, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. Loud honky-tonk piano music is coming from behind the swinging doors. Danny raises his eyebrows at Steve who says, "Playing helps Max to think. He's a savant or something."
Despite his name, Max Bergman turns out to be Japanese-American. Danny's starting to understand why Hawaii is called a melting-pot.
After making brief introductions, Steve explains, "Max, I'd like you to compare Detective Williams' DNA to mine. There's a chance that the two of us are related."
"We are all related, Commander McGarrett." The M.E. adjusts his glasses like some stereotypical college professor. "Scientific data suggests that every human alive today can trace his or her matrilineal descent back to the same woman, known as Mitochondrial Eve, who lived perhaps 200,000 years ago."
Danny just stares in response, but Steve is clearly used to this epic level of nerdy pedantry.
"Okay, let me rephrase. Williams and I could be closely related: half-brothers via my father, to be exact."
Max raises his eyebrows. "Ah, I see. Very well then, gentlemen, let us begin. If you'll allow me to swab your cheek, Commander...and now you, Detective..."
Danny's seen many suspects be swabbed for DNA, with or without their consent, but never expected to have it done to himself. The oversized Q-tip tickles the inside of his mouth, and it's hard to hold still.
"I should have results for you in a few days," Max tells them. "Although it is difficult to obtain absolute certainty when there is no living shared parent to act as a reference point, I hope to give you an indication either way."
Steve opens his mouth, hesitates, and then says, "Samples of Dad's blood were taken from the crime scene and analyzed, right? So you can test us both against his DNA on file."
"Yes, indeed," Max says with a smile. "That will allow for greater accuracy."
"And please, Max," Steve adds, "could you keep this whole thing to yourself?"
"Of course, Commander."
On the way out, Steve tells Danny, "All right, time to talk. Have you eaten? There's a Chinese place nearby."
"Sure," Danny says. "I'm starved."
As they walk, Danny glances sidelong at Steve. The guy seems calmer now than he did at lunch. It might just be the relief of getting the testing underway, but Danny gets the feeling there's more to it than that.
"You look less inclined to shoot me than you did five hours ago. What's changed?"
Steve shrugs. "I lifted fingerprints off your wallet and ran them through AFIS...got a match to Detective Daniel Williams, formerly of the Newark PD, and the file photo matches you too. So the odds seem pretty good that you're not a conman, at least."
Danny stops dead. "Wow; you're clearly a professional paranoiac. You skipped right over the 'trust' part of 'trust but verify', huh?"
"Can't be too careful," Steve says, and keeps right on walking. "I've got a lot of enemies."
Hurrying to catch up – damn Steve's long, powerful legs – Danny says, "Somehow I can believe that. And hey, let me guess: you checked HPD's personnel files as well."
"It's handy, the way job applications are filed electronically these days." Steve's lips quirk up. "Is your middle name really Proinsias?"
"Yeah," Danny says, scowling at him. "It's the Gaelic version of Francis. I always thought I was named for my father, Frank, who's Irish through and through. Now I guess it was a way for Ma to link the two of us, even if I wasn't his by blood."
"Did Frank know that, though?"
"Oh, definitely," Danny says. "Pop married her when she was six months pregnant. They put his name on my birth certificate and agreed never to tell me any different, but Ma had a change of heart recently."
Steve nods. "That was my next question. In your HPD application, you mentioned you were moving to Hawaii for your daughter. I called your old department in New Jersey, too, and Captain Novak said the same thing. So is that really true, or are you here because of Dad?"
Danny is impressed, despite himself, that Steve got Novak to talk to him. The grumpy old bastard was never fond of interagency cooperation.
"Yeah, I was already planning to follow my ex-wife here, for Grace's sake. Ma decided to tell me about Jack once my transfer was finalized, in case I got a chance to meet him. But when I looked him up online, I found out he'd died only a month or so earlier. Such shitty timing, you know?"
Steve doesn't say anything, his face a mask, and Danny's usual easy flow of words dries up. He's glad when they reach the restaurant, soon after, and he can focus on something other than Steve's stony grief.
***
A perky waitress comes by to take their orders. Steve gets soup and some spicy chicken and rice thing, while Danny goes for his usual: fried cream cheese wontons, followed by sweet and sour pork. "What?" he says, when Steve grimaces.
"I can hear your arteries groaning from here."
"Hey, gimme a break. We can't all be perfect specimens of –" Danny shuts his mouth, abruptly, and Steve drops his gaze. Jesus, why can't Danny control his mouth better?
"I mean, I get enough dietary advice from my daughter. Being lectured about cholesterol by an eight-year-old is a memorable experience, believe me."
Steve's smile is the most positive emotion Danny's seen from him yet. "Smart kid."
"Yeah, Gracie's real smart; she's just amazing."
"So how long have she and her mom been in Hawaii?"
"Rachel moved out here in August to join her new husband – he's a property developer. Apparently being married to a millionaire is all sunshine and pineapple pie, compared to living with a detective."
Avoiding Steve's intent gaze, Danny focuses on dipping a wonton into its tangy-sweet sauce. He didn't mean to let his bitterness show, but there's something about Steve that makes him want to open up.
"My mom didn't seem to mind being married to a cop," Steve says, after a long moment. "I think she preferred it, even with the long hours and the risks, to when Dad was in the Navy and away for months on end."
Steve bites his lip, then, and his train of thought is easy to follow: the DNA tests may reveal that Danny was conceived during one of those tours of duty.
"All right, start talking," Steve orders. "First off, where and when were you born?"
It's weird to be on the receiving end of an interrogation, especially in a Chinese restaurant, but it's been a day full of weirdness. So Danny resettles himself in the hard plastic seat and begins.
"I was born March 20, 1976, in Newark, New Jersey. But apparently I was conceived in Boston during Fleet Week."
"You're just a few months older than me, then," Steve says. "And I'm pretty sure Mom got pregnant with me soon after Dad was discharged and came home for good."
Danny nods. "So here's what Ma told me, last week. In July of '75, she was waitressing at a waterfront bar in Boston. The place was swarming with sailors and I guess many of them flirted with her, but one lieutenant caught her eye. He was older, a man instead of an overgrown boy, and he had the most incredible blue eyes. He said his name was Jack McGarrett, and he was from Oahu, Hawaii."
Their mains arrive, then, and Danny keeps talking in between bites.
"Ma says he told her all about Hawaii, and how beautiful it was, and how much she'd love it here. He walked her home every night, until finally...well, you can figure out the rest.
"Jack said he'd be getting out of the Navy soon, and promised that he'd come back for her. She was young and naïve and infatuated with him, and she believed it. But when Ma realized she was pregnant, she wrote him letter after letter, care of the Navy. There was no reply."
Steve winces, and Danny feels bad for shattering any illusions he had about his late father. "Maybe he never got the letters," Steve suggests.
Danny spreads his hands. "Who knows? Anyway, she kept waiting to hear from him. And in the meantime, her old-fashioned Italian parents were making her life hell. They were gonna kick her out of home, even disown her, unless she got married or adopted the baby out."
"Damn," Steve says. "So I'm guessing this is where Frank enters the picture?"
"Yeah. Ma and Frankie Williams had been friends forever; they lived on the same street, growing up. He'd always loved her, but was too shy to ask her out. So when she told him, he offered to marry her and raise the baby as his own. Ma wanted out of Boston, to escape from her family and the social stigma, and Frank had relatives in Jersey. So they moved down to Newark, got married, and had me."
Steve pushes his half-eaten meal away; Danny can understand why he might have lost his appetite, hearing all this.
"And you never suspected anything?"
"Well, I don't look much like Ma or my younger siblings. They're all typically Italian – dark hair, brown eyes. But Pop's coloring is much lighter. His eyes aren't as blue as mine, so I always figured I was a throwback to some earlier generation of the Williams family. When I saw your dad's photo, though, it made more sense."
"You do look a little like my sister," Steve admits. "She's blonde too, but her eyes are greener."
"That's Mary, right? Jack's obituary said she was living in California."
Steve sighs. "Yeah. She didn't come home for Dad's funeral, and I don't think she ever plans on setting foot here again. I haven't seen her since Mom died, nearly 20 years ago."
"Shit," Danny says, "that's rough. I sometimes wished away my brother and my sisters, growing up; our house was crowded and money was tight. But we're all pretty close, now."
"So do your siblings know that Frank's not your biological father?"
Danny shakes his head. "Ma and Pop said it was up to me whether to tell them or not. But I decided it was just too much to deal with, on top of getting ready to move 5,000 miles away. I might do it next year, if I can afford to go home for the holidays."
"Have you told anyone else?"
"Nope, not even Rachel or Grace." Danny looks Steve in the eye and says, "Hey, don't worry. I'm not out to trash your dad's reputation."
"Really? If what your mother says is true, you've both got cause to be angry with him."
Leaning back in his chair, Danny thinks for a long moment.
Then he says slowly, "If Jack was still around, and I knew for sure that he ignored Ma's letters and never tried to help her? Then yeah, I'd be pissed off. But I've already got a father back home, a great guy who raised me and treated me like I was his own. So it's not like I'm feeling traumatized or deprived; if anything, I love Pop even more now. And Ma didn't sound mad with Jack when she told me, just kind of wistful, so I'm not seeking revenge on her behalf either. All I want is the truth, because I hate leaving puzzles unsolved."
Like always, speaking out loud helps Danny untangle what's in his head. It's almost surprising to realize how little animosity he bears towards Jack, but hating the dead seems like a total waste of energy. And Danny's carrying around enough anger already, God knows.
Steve nods. "So if the tests come back positive, you're saying there's nothing else you'll want from me? No share of Dad's estate, no public acknowledgement?"
"Again with the paranoia...Steve, I'm not after your money, and I'm not asking you to tell the world," Danny says firmly. "But I do need to get a family medical history, for Grace's sake as well as mine. If possible, I'd want to find out a little more about your dad. And I'd like to get to know you, too, even if you can't accept me as a brother."
"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," Steve says, his expression unreadable.
Steve's long since finished eating, and Danny's own food is now cold and congealed. Danny wants to keep talking, keep trying to build some kind of real connection here, but Steve is just too closed off. He's offered no information about himself, all night, and doesn't seem likely to start now.
So Danny says, "Hey, I should get going. It's been quite a day, and I have unpacking to do."
Steve nods, and waves the waitress over. Once they've paid for their meals, separately, the two of them head outside.
"Can you find your way from here?"
"Yeah, no problem." Danny stretches his back out, glad to be free of that uncomfortable chair.
Steve looks away, rubbing his jaw. "I'll, uh, let you know when Max gets some results."
"Thanks. 'Night, Steve," Danny says. Steve strides off without saying goodbye, and Danny watches him go. He'd like to claim that he wasn't staring at Steve's ass, but he's too tired to lie to himself.
Despite everything, he still feels just as drawn to Steve as he did the moment they first saw each other. And though he'd set out today to learn more about his biological father, now Danny's not so sure he wants to be Jack McGarrett's son.
***
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Family business