I'd say I'm sorry but I'm not
It used to be a family home, the smell of the other McGarretts faint but present, embedded in the walls and the furniture. Derek swallowed down his curiosity. Family does not seem like a good subject for men like McGarrett. Still, he couldn’t help looking over the pictures on the mantel piece, his was long gone from the fire. A picture of a man caught his eyes, dressed in a police uniform.
“That’s my dad,” Steve offered, “We used to be tight until mom died. Back then I was so angry at everything and it seemed like there was nothing else mattered but making sure no one had to feel that anger, that sadness, again. So I joined the Navy to do just that and never looked back. The first time I heard his voice in my adult life was to hear him die. Murdered by the brother of a man I killed.”
Sometimes, Derek wondered if that kind of grief had a smell but that he was so buried in it that it became him. He wondered if Steve smelled of it too.
“My father burned in our house with the rest of our family. Most of our family,” he corrected. “Hunters,” he answered at Steve’s raised eyebrow. “She… I… Her name was Kate. And I let her kill my family.”
“It wasn't your fault, kid.”
“Was it your fault?” Derek asked, eyes darting at the picture of the elder McGarrett.
Steve’s mouth opened to form the word ‘no’ but no sound came out. Derek could see him trying to work it out, considering lying to him, then shook his head.
“Touche, kid.”
