I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
Note: Yeah Phoebe - you're so great putting up with me and my "LOOK! Squirrel!" free-form stories that come out of nowhere. This is one such oddity. No real plot per se but hopefully a lot of fun for a reader. Not "quite" finished but I do have an end in mind. ;-) Not really hard beta'd as I have a bad bunny that likes to "touch things" after the fact. Any mistakes are my own.
H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O
"How are you doing?"
"Fine. Just ... peachy."
"You sure? You've said that every time I've asked …"
"Then stop asking, Steven."
Steve did. He completely shut his mouth and the quiet ranged around them then. The silence was oppressive and somehow worsened by the sound of their panted breathing.
Danny paused in his belly crawl to wipe his forehead on the corner of his thumb. Sweat streamed down his face and into his eyes. It stung and itched, adding to all of the extremes he was being forced to endure. He nearly scratched himself with his thumbnail. The nail was jagged, ripped by that point. And his thumb was shaking as was his entire hand; hell, his whole body for that matter. A voice inside his head chanted at him over and over again to just give the hell up … and he was as desperate to give in to that voice as much as he was to ignore it.
He couldn't do this … and yet he had to. He had to because he had no choice and with all of his resolve, he started forward again. Shaking and doubtful, he crawled on with only the soles of Steve's boots to look at. Oh there was more to see, but Danny wouldn't acknowledge those things. He wouldn't allow the devil on his shoulder to poke and prod him into really seeing the dirt on all sides. The lack of light. Or, the way the tunnel's shallow roof was going to skim the top of his head in spots.
He bit his lip hard, drawing blood when an unexpected shower of dirt and pebbles rained down on his head and shoulders. Grit peppered his face, coating it and forcing him to simultaneously smell and taste the dankness of where they were. He wouldn't acknowledge where they were and yet his senses were overwhelmed by the truth of it. There was a whine inside his chest as he fought to garner a breath of air – clean air – and that damnable chant picked up its cadence.
He couldn't do this … no how … no way … he couldn't do this ….
Left elbow, right elbow, heave body up just enough and pull forward. Sometimes his knees worked and got in the act, too. Sometimes the toes of his shoe might be lucky and catch a rock or the side of the tunnel wall. A short scrabble might happen to find purchase to push himself a few more precious inches forward.
But towards what? Sometimes he'd gain too much in his eagerness to keep moving forward and accidentally connect with one of Steve's boots. His face, already scraped and bleeding from their escapade, would get hurt again. His chin or his lip … sometimes his cheek. New blood. New cuts and scrapes which he barely felt after the dull stunned feeling of what he'd done to himself, left him.
Danny had no clue and had stopped trying to guess where Steve thought he might be leading them. Not even the Mets line-up could save where his thoughts were going now. His old trusty 'out' simply couldn't compete with a partially collapsed tunnel under an old WW2 bunker. It was too dark and just damned too frightening as the whine inside his chest increased in volume.
"Danno? How are you holding up?"
He didn't answer this time. As the self-proclaimed line leader, Steve's voice was muffled and he couldn't see him, single-file as they were. He should say something, but then again what could Danny possibly say? Instead, Danny merely shook his head at the impossibility of it all as he closed his eyes for a few minutes and focused on his crawl.
Left elbow, right elbow, heave body up just enough and pull forward. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Nothing else existed. Not even the outside world. It was gone, gone, gone. Hardly able to focus on the faces of his kids, Danny failed time and again at finding some kind of reason to continue on.
He couldn't do this … no how … no way … he couldn't do this ….
"You got his, buddy." Steve's voice disrupted the internal chant just as Danny heaved himself forward and promptly cracked his cheek against the heel of Steve's left boot. His eyes flew open at the same time he grunted in surprise and the sudden jolt stopped his forward motion, cold.
"You do. Trust me. You've got this … we've got this."
What did he have though? He kept his head down when the boot in front of him twitched; they were on the move again.
Just what the hell did he have? Swollen hands? Broken fingernails? The foul taste of Hawaiian soil mixed with that of blood inside his mouth and up his nose? An oppressive heat to go along with the oppressively small size of the tunnel, soon to be his coffin?
"Stop!" Steve hissed so loudly that Danny flinched before he realized what was happening. He ducked low and covered his head with his arms, nearly at the last possible millisecond, his cheek pressed tightly into the damp earth as more rocky debris rained down across his body.
Buried alive … he froze where he was, eyes closed as sweat streamed down his face. Larger rocks this time. One, then two fell on his legs hard enough to hurt and he fought panic, thinking he was trapped until he pulled his leg free. He couldn't breathe … couldn't move … and his private demon surged forward with a vengeance.
He couldn't do this … no how … no way … he couldn't do this ….
"Danno. Trust me. We're almost there, buddy."
He was sure that his heart was beating but that was only because it was thundering inside his chest completely discordant to the angry whine of his breathing. He literally could feel it.
"Danny? You hurt?"
He remained mute. If he dared talk – if he dared to open his mouth – Danny was sure the demon would win because he seriously … couldn't do this … couldn't … can't …
"I see light buddy. Let's go … follow me."
Danny tried to swallow, but his throat had practically closed up. He nodded again, his face still pillowed in his arms, vaguely conscious of the fact that Steve had no way of seeing him.
"Now, Danno … let's go. Don't stop."
Those last two words said far too calmly, gently forced him out of his miasma. On a certain level, Danny knew that Steve's worry had ramped up; that something was wrong or could happen. This last collapse had been bigger than before and had lasted longer. Danny could feel the earth he was dragging himself over and the rocks were bigger, heavier … the tunnel far less secure if it had ever been secure when their mis-adventure had first begun.
"Don't stop."
Danny nodded again as he forced his head up but stared in numb denial now at the ground directly beneath his nose. The whine of his breathing was more intense now, bordering on hyperventilation. Each inhale as thick as the humidity in the air.
"Ready? Move. Don't stop."
On auto pilot and muscles leaden, Danny moved his left elbow when Steve's left boot moved. His right elbow managed to move next even as his back muscles started to seize from strain.
Left elbow, right elbow, heave body up just enough and pull forward. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
He closed his eyes at one point, relying on the rhythm they'd adopted together. At times, Steve would say something, but his words had become nothing more than a buzz, deafened by the roaring sound of the blood pounding in his ears.
Left elbow - couldn't do this - right elbow, heave body - couldn't do this - up just enough and pull forward - couldn't do this - repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
His eyes were closed when an alarming volume of sea air and saltwater spray hit him head on. Whatever breath he had left inside his lungs left him all at once and he nearly passed out from the shock of it, but he continued to move. The repetition stayed stuck in his head even as he started to slice his hands open on lava rock, and bits of coral.
"Stop. Stop … Danny … stop. It's over ...we did it."
He wheezed and fought Steve as he was manhandled around from his stomach. This was wrong, he shouldn't stop. He'd been told to keep going.
NO! Dont'stop...dontstopdontstopdontstop ...
"Danny!"
Pulled up and over, he wound up virtually cocooned in Steve's lap, his legs intentionally trapped by Steve's longer ones. His wrists pinned between Steve's hands. Trembling though, muscles straining, Danny argued now the impossibility of this as a loud boom preceded the spray of saltwater which once more cascaded over their bodies. Drenched down to his skin, he shivered from the shock of the cold after the stifling heat of the tunnel.
"Stop … stop … Danny!" The audible whine increased as Danny tried to breathe, air sapped from his lungs once more when the high storm-surge hit the rocks they were perched on. Ice cold water saturated his body and Danny jolted hard, his eyes finally flying open.
"F-fuh's tha?" He all but croaked as another loud boom preceded another drenching. He flinched away still breathing hard, still confused.
"The Pacific," Steve stated as if he'd single-handedly solved the answer to World hunger.
~ to be continued ~