A/N: This story seems to refuse being written. It's been sitting in my virtual drawer for a while now, and although I do have an idea what is going on there, the words themselves seem to elude me.
So I hope to use the sense of obligation I found I have when I publish something, hopefully if some written words are out there I'll feel like I need to glue myself to my keyboard until something satisfactory comes out.
I am sorry for this short piece, and for shamelessly using innocent readers… If my plan works out, I'm hoping it will make up for it.
Reviews are welcome, as well as kick in the butt, threats, hate mail and assertive demands to continue…
Chapter 1
A quarter to seven a.m.. Six forty five. Zero-Six-Four-Five. The alarm would have gone off in ten minutes, but why not torture him by waking him up sooner, if possible?
Danny growled and picked up his ringing cellular from the night stand to see who his tormentor was. Steve. Little surprise there.
"What?!" Danny barked as he put the phone to his ear without lifting his head from the pillow. The soft, warm pillow that was supposed to be under his head for at least ten more minutes.
There was no answer. Danny looked at the phone again, his eyes only half open. He now noticed it was a video call, and he blinked a few times at the screen, to clear his vision so he could understand what was being displayed.
The image on his screen was of his partner's truck. A hooded figure was hunched down next to the truck, his hands fiddling with something underneath it, right below the driver's door.
"Steve?" Danny sat on the bedside, heart pounding suddenly, his body reacting before his mind could even figure out what he was seeing. The bed shifted slightly behind him and a warm hand was placed on his bare back.
"What is it, Jersey?" came Melissa's sleepy voice.
Danny's eyes were glued to the screen. The figure stepped closer to the camera, face hidden in the shadows of the hood, hand reached to pick it up. The picture shifted as the phone moved forward, bringing the camera closer to the car, then lower so he could see what it was that the person did there.
Most of the view was shadowed, but what he could notice was a lump, maybe a duct tape. The asphalt below the car dimly reflected a red light blinking from underneath the device.
Danny inhaled sharply.
"Melissa! Your phone! Now!"
The bed shifted again, and a hand holding another cellular phone reach from behind. He watched as the image turned away from the car, showing the road's asphalt now, whoever was holding Steve's phone was moving fast away from the place.
Danny's eyes flickered only partially from the screen, just enough to allow him to see what he was punching, as he used Melissa's cellular to call Steve's landline.
"Come on, pick up!" he shouted at the phone.
The video feed stabilized again, as it settled on the view of Steve's house front, from a distance now, the truck in the middle of the shot.
"Pick up!" he yelled at the phone again. He stood up, holding Melissa's phone between his ear and his shoulder, listening in growing frustration to the endless cycle of the still unanswered call; long beep -short break -long beep…
One hand was holding his own phone in front of him, and he used his free hand to pick up his discarded pants from the chair, holding them as he slipped his legs into them.
"Melissa!" he ordered again, not bothering to look behind him, "call 911, tell them I said to dispatch a unit to Steve's house now, and not let anyone get near his truck!" he heard her moving, and thanked her silently for complying without a question.
The call to Steve's house was disconnected.
The picture on his phone was completely still now.
Empty road. Truck. House.
He stuffed Melissa's phone into his pocket, grabbed a shirt and started walking to the front door as he pulled it over his head.
Danny wondered if he lost the video feed. It seemed that the picture froze, not even the slight tremor of someone's hand holding it up. But then he saw his partner, appearing from behind the lush growth of his front lawn, walking fast towards the truck.
Danny's hand started trembling, his breathing grew heavy.
"Steve! Steve!" he shouted pointlessly at the phone. His partner was now a few steps from the truck, his hand reaching slightly upwards with the car's remote held ready.
Danny held his breath in horror, one hand clutching the phone, the other gripped his own car keys with such force that they were digging into his palm.
"Steve…" he now whispered breathlessly. "Don't…"
There was nothing he could do.
The horrific sound erupting from his phone's speaker came in short delay after the image of the explosion.
Then the view on the screen tilted, blurred and settled again, displaying the deep blue, cloudless sky of a fine Hawaiian morning.
My thanks to Yul. She's very patient, very strict and very much encouraging. It might not be much, but there would be nothing at all if it wasn't for her.