I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.

Notes: Originally posted on A03; Part of The Patterns of Warmth AU. Established relationship. Etc.

Backstory: unfortunately major portions of this plot are based on a real news report about a 5-year-old girl being locked in a 7-Eleven bathroom with her mother who had overdosed on heroin. Per the news report, police said store employees had gotten access to the bathroom before officers arrived on the scene where they found the mother laying on the bathroom floor.

When officers did arrive on scene they found hypodermic needles and 10 bags of suspected heroin. The mother was charged with second-degree endangering the welfare of a child, but did not face drug-related charges due to the Overdose Prevention Act.

H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O

He squeezed himself between the cracked porcelain sink and the stained tile wall, silent as his mother quickly dumped the contents of her heavy black leather bag onto the plastic baby changing table. The ugly table was yellowed, old and smelled funny, but C.J.'s mother didn't care. C.J.'s mother had another priority on her mind despite all the money which she now shoved sloppily back into the bag in favor of another thing.

C.J. shook his head, wanting to go home. But his mother ignored him. His mother's lips moved soundlessly as she said something to herself. Then, she smiled happily once she found what she was looking for in the big bag. Unlike his mother though, C.J. sniffed back his tears. He watched his mother's face, barely able to catch the words she was mumbling so very badly to herself. He blinked hard, trying not to cry. Watching as his mother's eyes started to look far, far away.

Feeling sad and scared all at once, even at the tender age of just six years old, C.J. knew that he both existed and didn't exist in his mother's world at the same time when this was going to happen. His mother's lips were trembling and her smile was as twitchy as her fingers. But right then, his mother's fingers didn't tell him anything that was important. They never did when they were wrapped around a needle or tapping out that ugly white powder onto a dirty old, bent spoon.

Ever silent, C.J. made himself small as his mother fumbled with a tiny bottle, that dirty spoon and a bright-pink lighter, laying each item out carefully on the over-used changing table. Next came the scary looking needle, the small bag of cotton balls - a little bag which his mother had just stolen from the convenience store they were in - and a thick rubber band which his mother then wrapped around her upper arm.

C.J. felt his bottom lip begin to tremble. He didn't like hiding in the convenience store's smelly bathroom and he didn't like what his mother was about to do.

"I'll just be a minute, baby," his mother said a moment later. She turned towards him to say it. Remembering that he was still there, her eyes were suddenly more bright. It was too late though because she was tightening the band with her teeth; slapping her upper arm and then reaching for the lighter. No matter what she said now, C.J. only wedged his body even more tightly into the corner.

Besides the money and the gun, he knew what was in the bag. He didn't like the needles or white powdery stuff. It made his mother act funny and forget all about him. It made mumble things C.J. didn't understand. It made his mother sleep so long and hard that C.J. sometimes couldn't wake her up.

His mother was just thumbing the lighter to melt the white powder she'd put on the spoon when C.J. felt a heavy thud, thud, thud through the soles of his blue sneakers. Something was happening outside the bathroom's door and his eyes widened in newfound fear as his mother's face completely changed to a toothy sneer.

She wasn't afraid like C.J. was though, his mother was mad. Their eyes met and his mother's lips turned white. She was going to yell.

C.J. shrunk down to make himself even smaller, scraping the bony-part of his chest on the porcelain sink. Someone had seen them steal the cotton balls. They shouldn't have gone into the convenience store at all and now, he knew they were really going to get into trouble.

"Damn it! Shut up!" His mother shouted to whomever was banging on the door. "I've got a kid in here! I'll be done in a minute!"

But that wasn't true because his mother didn't intend to leave so quickly and C.J. was only an excuse ... a reason why his mother sometimes did scary things. The band was still around her arm, the loosely tied ends flapping. The teaspoon with that special white powder was in one hand. The lighter poised, in the other. The needle was ready right there on the baby's changing table. They wouldn't be leaving until his mother had done what she needed to do; C.J. knew that and his eyes welled with tears that finally began to roll down his cheeks when his mother pointed to the opposite corner of the unisex bathroom.

C.J. looked over and was confused. The only thing there was a mop and big washer-bucket filled with sharp smelling dirty water, but his mother grinned in triumph. His mother stalked over to the bucket, grabbed the wet mop and, ignoring how the water sprayed from its ropey strands, shoved it hard against the door and the metal frame of the first bathroom stall.

"That'll do," she announced while she smiled broadly to him, a new wildness in her eyes belying the truth of what was coming next.

C.J. shook his head again, understanding that they were now stuck in the bathroom. Of course, they'd locked the door at first, but now with the long pole of the mop, they were really stuck. Stuck on purpose.

He wanted to leave so badly but his mother was back at the table. Almost too quickly, his mother opened the bag of cotton balls and thumbed the lighter to life again. Within moments, the small yellowish-blue flame was making the white powder a liquid. His mother was filling up the needle. She didn't see C.J. shaking his head over and over as tears continued to wet his cheeks. His mother didn't see anything at all as she leaned heavily against the baby's changing table, her arm cocked and awkwardly braced so she could press the tip of the needle into her skin. Through tear-filled eyes, C.J. watched his mother drop the needle when she was finished. He watched as she pulled the rubber band from her arm.

"Just give me a minute, baby," his mother mouthed to him as she slowly sank to the floor, balanced on her knees. She was smiling as her eyes closed. Her mouth opened and then closed as if breathing heavily, her lips twitching into a scary half-smile. But C.J.'s mother's happiness lasted for a very short time.

Something was different this time. Her face changed at the same time her hands became tight fists. She rocked stiffly on her knees.

Frozen in fear, C.J. watched as his mother's head fell forward and her smile became a sickly grimace. Kneeling there, his mother swayed just once before her upper body stiffened and she fell over, hitting the floor hard ... face first.

For a minute, C.J. just stayed where he was. For a long, long time, he watched as a bloody ribbon began a thread-like path across the dirty tile. It came towards him slowly at first, a slow-moving red line which began to get bigger. As it spread scary red fingers which crept towards the toe of his own sneaker, only then did C.J. finally open his mouth to cry for help ... except, in his terror, the little boy wasn't sure if anything was coming out.

~ to be continued ~