Disclaimer:
Hawaii Five-0 and Kick-Ass' characters belong to their respective franchises and copyright owners. I'm just borrowing them for purely personal and literary entertainment purposes.
***The events, characters, organizations and any other names depicted in this story are fictitious. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual organizations is purely coincidental***
Hawaiian Crossroads: Little Vigilante
- A Hawaii Five-0 (2010) fan-fiction story by Kemurikat -
Chapter 01 - The Little Intruder
The thick layers of wet sand that coated her runners felt heavier and heavier with every step. The sting of salt water in the air hurt her eyes and nostrils. She stayed in the shadows, skirting the sandy shoreline bordering various properties below a ridge of tall grass that effectively concealed her from anyone lurking in the backyards of their expensive, beach-front homes.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, she scolded herself repeatedly as she stumbled in near pitch darkness. Normally, traveling under the 'cover of night' was quite comforting especially when she wanted to stay invisible. Tonight, badly injured and sneaking through totally unfamiliar territory was a truly frightening thing. She was all alone with nobody to watch her back.
I can do this, she told herself determinedly, clutching at her tightly bandaged abdomen. She had done the best she could to patch herself with her first-aid training, but her wound was deep and she knew she needed stitches. Shit, she needed a hospital, but if she gave herself up to seek professional help, they'd ask too many questions and she wasn't ready to be found!
I'm gonna bleed out soon if I don't - aha!
Salvation presented her with unoccupied property. The house had no discernibly lit windows and no visible signs of an active security system. She decided the place was a start and worth checking out. Besides, she was desperate. Struggling through sand and brush was draining much of her energy.
She scaled the ridge with some difficulty and by the time she reached her chosen house's back yard, she began to feel lightheaded.
Shit, shit, no, no, not yet, she begged her body. All she had to do was break in, find a needle and thread to stitch herself up with, and heaven willing, some useful disinfectant or antibiotics to take with her.
When she pulled at the handle of the house's white back door, she was surprised to find that it was left unlocked. Grateful for the stroke of luck, she entered the house and using a slim flashlight for illumination, went straight to the master bedroom and its adjoining en suite.
Spotting the medicine cabinet, she yanked it open, finding the shelves moderately stocked. Luck struck twice when she recognized a modular military-grade medical kit on the bottom shelf. She opened it and smiled since the med-kit was packed tightly with everything she would ever need.
She hissed in pain as she slid her small knapsack off her shoulders where she shoved in the med-kit, certain prescription medications and a few toiletries. Once she was satisfied, she expertly scoured the master bedroom's closet and drawers for any usable articles of clothing. She hated having to resort to petty thievery, but her own clothes were in too much of a mess for her to simply show up at a local convenience store.
After her fingers searched under neatly folded stacks of men's underwear and found nothing, she pulled out the drawer slightly, reached in and felt behind it.
Why, hello, there, she said in delight, having found a fully loaded SIG-Sauer P226 SRT Tac Ops pistol in a compartment attached to the back of the underwear drawer. It was a stellar, military-grade weapon with an extended magazine and complete with an accessory rail. At the opposite corner, her fingers discovered two clips of 9 mm and .40S&W rounds. Either the occupant of the home she B&E'd had impeccable taste in handguns, or she may have stumbled onto someone with a possible sordid history. With no time to spare on speculations, she concentrated instead on her 'raid' of the home, namely onward to the kitchen for some food and water.
The fridge was unfortunately sparse, except for three unopened bottles of water. Sighing, she searched the kitchen cabinets for any portable canned goods or ready-to-eat packages she could carry. She found a few packets of military rations, picked the best ones and took them.
As she continued her methodical search in the kitchen, she greedily drank from one of the smaller water bottles, tossing the empty container over her shoulder into the sink. She didn't care about leaving fingerprints because any meticulous search would come up empty, thanks to her late father, who made absolutely sure that her true identity was protected.
The room was starting to spin and a glance at her abdomen under her hooded top revealed that more blood had soaked to the surface of her makeshift bandages. One final set of drawers in the kitchen and she was out of there. She also entertained the idea of temporarily hiding herself in the house's basement to make full use of the medical kit she took.
Hastily opening the final drawer in the kitchen which was filled with a mishmash of various items, she dug around curiously and couldn't believe what she found.
Oh, wow, she said to herself, her brows lifting slightly up her forehead. Hidden at the bottom, under a messy pile of kitchen utensils was the handsomest-looking tactical combat knife she'd ever seen, complete with customized grip. No doubt stashed there by its owner, 'just in case'...but, 'just in case' of what? Shrugging, she was about to stuff the knife and its sheath into her knapsack when a deep, masculine voice spoke directly behind her, shocking her rigid as a statue.
"I'd like you to put that back where you found it, if you don't mind."
"Get the hell outta my face," Detective Danny Williams shouted crossly, who stormed past his colleagues and made a beeline for his office. (Or rather, as stormy as someone could get with a limp and a cane.) At the moment, he fervently wished for the luxury of slamming his office door in protest, except that all the doors in their department were made entirely of glass and equipped with hydraulic hinges that made slamming impossible. So instead, he made do with smashing his cane down onto his desk with a resounding crack, slumping into his leather chair and swinging it away dramatically from eye contact with anyone in the department.
Rolling his eyes, Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett made distinct strangling motions with his hands in the direction of Detective Williams' office.
"Uh, boss, we all know Danny doesn't take too well to near-death experiences," a female colleague with Asian features told him flatly. The man who stood beside her, with similar characteristics, chuckled softly.
McGarrett inhaled and exhaled deeply before answering loudly, "he knows better than to think I'd let him get killed out there."
Williams' response was to hammer his fist down sharply onto his desk, making Kono Kalakaua and her cousin, Chin Ho Kelly, flinch slightly.
"He's completely overreacting," McGarrett mumbled under his breath, crossing his arms obstinately.
Kono and Chin looked at McGarrett in disbelief, glancing briefly at each other before their eyes sympathetically bounced to Williams' office.
"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm calling it a day," Chin said tiredly, his hand coming up to cover a yawn.
"Same here," Kono agreed, rubbing at her sore neck muscles.
"Sure. You guys go on ahead and get outta here. I'll deal with Danny," McGarrett replied, turning toward his goal. That's when he felt a firm tug on his left arm before he even put his first foot forward.
"You should go home too. Give Danny some space to cool off," Kono suggested.
After a moment, McGarrett nodded. "Will do."
"Night, boss," Chin said with a casual smile and left the department with Kono beside him.
Despite the obvious disagreement, all four members of the Hawaiian Governor's Special Police Task Force were relieved to finally reach the conclusion of a difficult case involving the kidnapping of a visiting British delegate. Sadly, a few casualties were sustained by the Honolulu SWAT division during the rescue operation, leaving a sour tinge to their success. What made Detective Williams particularly furious was that in his valiant effort to be the reliable back-up for his reckless, gung-ho, Navy SEAL partner, he had faced yet another close brush with the Grim Reaper. His fingers gingerly rubbed at a sore spot on the right side of his head where a bullet had grazed it. The realization that it had taken only millimeters of heavenly luck to stay alive that day, had frankly, scared the living daylights out of him.
When images of his eight year old daughter, Grace, flashed before his eyes - a daughter he nearly left behind, he reminded himself - he sighed, dejectedly slouching in his chair. Since when had weighing the pros and cons of his occupation gotten progressively harder?
Given some thought, Danny already knew the truth beneath his own trepidation as he ran a hand through his hair and frowned.
Despite the highly elevated risks he faced on a daily basis, he never once regretted his decision to serve the public as an officer of the law. He had vowed to himself, that as long as he still received a deep sense of accomplishment from his line of work, he would remain unequivocally committed to it.
However, there was a certain 'rogue element' that kept tossing a fragmentation grenade into his personal procedures, reducing his finely honed detective work into a giant, steaming pile of chaos!
Danny Williams was referring to his boss, partner and the subsequent bane of his existence: Steve McGarrett. A soft knock on the glass door of his office made him clench his teeth and ball his fists.
"Fuck off, Steve," he barked out.
McGarrett nearly punched the glass door of Danny's office in frustration. "Fine. If it makes you happy, I'm fucking sorry. Again. For everything that happened today. Okay?" He was amazed how much babying Danny required sometimes.
No response.
"I'm leaving then. See you, Monday," McGarrett said cordially, shaking his head as he walked away.
After a few minutes of silence, Danny muttered, "see you, Monday," with a heavy sigh.
He was a few yards from his driveway when McGarrett caught a flash of light from inside the master bedroom of his home, indicating the presence of an intruder or intruders of unknown intent. If he or they were after his father's evidence, the tool box wasn't exactly in a secured location. Thankfully, his sister Mary Ann was staying with some girlfriends for a few days on the other side of the island.
He immediately turned off his headlights and motor, coasting his vehicle to a stop on the side of the road. He then quickly and quietly ran along his front yard, entered his home; his weapon drawn and ready for action.
A brief interior sweep revealed only one intruder present on the main floor. Looking carefully around a corner, he spotted his intruder systematically searching his entire kitchen for...his brows crunched together in confusion. The intruder had his back turned and was stuffing canned goods and a few military rations from his cabinets into a knapsack. The intruder also decided to drink one of the stolen bottles of water, tossing the empty container carelessly into the sink. Squinting in the dim light, he took note of the intruder's petite stature. Hmm.
Coming around to the other side of his kitchen to get a better look, he hid in the shadows and observed the intruder rummaging through his drawer of kitchen utensils. An oversized black hood covered the top half of the intruder's face, where eye-holes were then cut for visibility.
McGarrett's personal assessment of the intruder's actions suggested that he was dealing with a young runaway. Not exactly a threat that required lethal force. Setting the safety on his firearm, he tucked the weapon back into a small holster strapped to his belt beside his badge.
He watched in surprise as the petite intruder removed the combat knife he'd hidden inside his utensil drawer. The young runaway then held it up for examination and he caught the flash of a smile - was that delight? - on the intruder's face. His eyes were immediately drawn to the intruder's lips because its shape was disturbingly feminine.
"I'd like you to put that back where you found it, if you don't mind," McGarrett said calmly.
In the split second between action and reaction, Steve cursed himself for startling a civilian holding a deadly weapon, namely, his combat knife. He kept that particular double-edged blade extremely sharp and it would definitely badly injure the runaway if it was dropped. At least, that's how it should have played out.
What happened instead, threw McGarrett entirely for a loop.
The next thing he knew, his own combat knife was flying through the air, business end directly aimed for his chest! He was barely able to knock it away, changing its trajectory from being buried to the hilt into his heart, to the knife leaving a cut on his shoulder. He also nicked the top of his left hand in the process.
"Hey! Stop!" McGarrett shouted, his body's adrenaline kicking into overdrive.
The little monster that raided his kitchen was on the move, nimble as a frightened mouse. Knapsack in hand, the intruder ran straight for his front door, and scared runaway or not, he wasn't going to let his little intruder get away with attempted murder.
He chased the young runaway across his yard and watched as she abandoned her knapsack to run faster, but his longer legs gave him an advantage. When he caught up to the young runaway, he tackled her, grabbing tightly to her midsection. She cried out in pain when his arm clamped around her waist and she went limp even before they hit the ground.
When he rolled the young intruder onto her back, his saw the blood that smudged his inner right forearm. He quickly lifted the front of her warm, damp hoody and found - to his horror - the blood-soaked bandages around her abdomen. He then drew back the hood that covered the top half of her face and saw - to his shock - that she was much younger than he'd imagined! The girl's face was also quite pale.
She's bleeding to death!
McGarrett quickly retrieved the girl's discarded knapsack then carefully hoisted the young runaway into his arms and darted toward his dark-blue Silverado pickup.
She twitched and moaned.
"I'm sorry. I wouldn't have tackled you down like that if I knew you were badly hurt," McGarrett said apologetically. "Just hang on. I'm gonna get you to a hospital."
"No," the girl spoke sharply as she lifted her dangling arm and dug her fingers into the back of his wounded hand.
"Ow! Will you stop that?" McGarrett said, reflexively tightening his grip on her body with his injured hand. "I'm trying to help you!"
"Please. No hospitals," the girl begged him. "Please."
He slowed down to a brisk walk, turning his head to stare down at the young girl he cradled in his arms and saw the teary, wide-eyed sincerity that stared right back.
"It's...a clean cut. Just...just need stitches," the girl said, her eyes moving in and out of focus.
"From the amount of blood loss, I think you need more than stitches," he stated. "I'm not a doctor."
"If...you take me to a hospital...I'll die anyway," she said softly and drifted into unconsciousness.
So, this girl's in some kind of trouble and whoever's after her, wants her dead. Great! Now what? Dammit!
When McGarrett reached his pickup truck, he placed the girl in the passenger seat, reclining it back as far as it would go and dropping her knapsack on the floor by her feet. He then hopped into the driver's seat and started the engine. Spinning the truck around, he headed for a main road.
Cellphone in hand, his fingers tapped a number on his speed dial.
"Chin! I know it's late, but it's an emergency and I need a favor."
A slight pause and a curt reply. "What do you need?"
"I need a doctor. Now. Someone you can trust to keep things quiet."
"I know someone who works at Queens. Gimme a minute to contact her and I'll get back to you," Chin replied and hung up.
At Chin's reply, McGarrett drove in the direction of The Queens Medical Center in downtown Honolulu.
Come on, Chin. This kid's running out of time, Steve said to himself and glanced over worriedly to the unconscious girl beside him.
After a few more tense minutes, his phone rang. "Chin, where to?"
"I'll meet you at the Queens ER entrance. We'll be expected."
Soon enough, a dark-blue pickup truck flew into the Queens Medical Emergency parking lot and into an empty spot that wouldn't obstruct the flow of any EMS vehicles. Bundling the girl up as best he could with a spare jacket from his truck, McGarrett ran toward Chin and a woman in OR scrubs waiting at the entrance.
"This way," the woman said quietly and quickly led them down the hall to a small trauma unit away from general traffic. It was after-hours at the hospital and somewhat easier to go unnoticed. "Lay her on the gurney and get out."
Chin led McGarrett to the adjoining waiting room as they allowed the female doctor and her assistant to examine the young girl's wounds.
"Steve, what's going on? Who's the little girl?" Chin asked with concern, his eyes glancing at his boss-friend's bloodstained skin and clothing.
"Hell if I know. I found the kid robbing my kitchen when I got home," McGarrett replied, pacing the length of the waiting room. "First impression? I think she's in some kind of trouble and running from someone who's trying to kill her. She practically begged me not to take her to a hospital." He scratched the back of his head in frustration. "She won't be too happy with me when she wakes up in here."
"No worries. Dr. Ogihara's discreet. Soon as the girl's out of danger, she'll have her moved to a private suite," Chin explained.
"Won't your friend send up red flags in the hospital system?"'
"Normally, yes, but Makiye has powerful connections through her many high-profile patients. That girl, whoever she is, is in good hands," Chin reassured him. "Looks like she put up one heck of a fight?"
He nodded his head in the direction of the bleeding cuts on McGarrett's left hand and shoulder.
"Yeah," he replied offhandedly, appearing deep in thought. "How old does that girl look to you?"
"My best guess...about eleven?"
"Same here," McGarrett agreed, his brows crunched together.
"What aren't you telling me?" Chin asked perceptively.
"Something about her bothers me."
Steve recalled his encounter with the girl, giving Chin the 'Cliff notes' version. "...but the weirdest thing was...instead of dropping my knife, she throws it a me."
"Fear makes people unpredictable. She just overreacted," Chin commented.
"No, no. That's just it. What she did wasn't some wild throw out of fear. That eleven-year-old girl in there knew exactly what she was doing."
"I don't follow."
"These wounds I have? I got them by barely knocking away my own combat knife. That girl almost killed me tonight," McGarrett informed him, his face deadly serious.
There was a tense silence as Chin tried to process what Steve had told him. That's when he noticed, for the first time since they began working together, his friend and colleague's agitated behavior was drastically different from his normally calm, ironclad composure.
"Let me make sure I heard you correctly. Are you trying to tell me a little girl almost killed you?" Chin said in disbelief. "That's lolo, brah."
"Yeah, I know how I sound," McGarrett said uncomfortably.
"Do you? Because, frankly, what you just told me redefines the word crazy," Chin exclaimed, clearly outraged.
Before McGarrett could begin his rebuttal, Dr. Ogihara entered the waiting room. She saw the anxious faces of both men before she spoke.
"Thankfully, the girl you two brought in has no life-threatening injuries. She did lose a large amount blood from a clean cut across her abdomen and I've given her a transfusion to replenish some of it. Luckily, her blood-type is in rich supply, so I've got no issue covering that up. She also has a mild concussion, along with multiple bruises and abrasions all over her body. My first instinct would be some kind of domestic abuse," was the doctor's estimate.
"I'm the one who found her and I believe she's in some kind of trouble. She also begged me not to take her to a hospital," McGarrett replied.
"In that case, once my assistant's done stitching her up, you'd better take her away from here. Don't worry, she's safe to move around. I'll include instructions on how to care for her and some medication she should take. So, which of you gentlemen is taking responsibility for her?"
Without hesitation, McGarrett declared, "I am."
"You look ready to drop, brah," Chin said. Steve's skin was flushed and sweaty and his hands were a bit shaky. "I can ask Kono to - "
"I'll be fine. The anesthesia in the girl's system should knock her out for a couple of hours," McGarrett said and looked to the doctor for confirmation. When she nodded, he added, "Good. Then I can squeeze in some sleep."
Chin smuggled the girl out of ER bundled in a wheelchair as McGarrett pulled up beside them in his dark-blue pickup. As he helped his friend buckle the unknown girl into the passenger seat, he was able to get a longer look at her face. Chin was right. She didn't look a day older than eleven.
"Mahalo, brah," McGarrett said sincerely. "I owe you one."
"No need," Chin said, shaking his head. He stared at the unconscious girl, then at McGarrett's haggard appearance. "You sure about this?"
"She'll be safe with me. Look, forget what I said earlier. You're right, it's crazy talk. Our team's been wide awake on coffee and Red Bull for almost forty-eight hours now. We both need a good night's sleep." Steve hopped into his pickup then called out, "I'll call you the minute she wakes up, k?"
Chin Ho Kelly's eyes followed Steve's dark-blue pickup as it left the hospital's Emergency parking lot, merging with local traffic and slowly disappearing down Punchbowl Avenue. Heading back to his black Harley Softail, Chin roared the engine to life and left the vicinity of Queens hospital, ultimately deciding to take a detour toward Kono's place.
Pulling into his driveway, McGarrett entered his front door with his young charge in his arms, tossed the girl's knapsack onto his dining table and deposited the girl in the master bedroom.
He laid the young girl on his king-sized bed, grabbed one of his clean, white shirts and carefully fitted it over the top half of her body. The girl's original clothes were so dirty and stained with blood that Dr. Ogihara had discarded them, leaving her wearing just a hospital gown. He'd have to figure out later how to get the young girl more clothes.
Tucking her under the covers, he went to take a quick shower, cleaned and bandaged his wounds, got dressed in a pair of loose cotton pajama bottoms and laid out a sleeping bag on the floor beside his king-sized bed. For now, McGarrett's burning curiosity concerning the mysterious young girl had to wait until after he's had a decent few hours sleep.
to be continued
Author's Notes:
It's actually Punchbowl 'Street' rather than 'Avenue' coming out of Queens Medical Center in Honolulu. 'Avenue' just sounded better.
I'm not a diehard fan of cop shows, in fact, I haven't even sat through episodes of CSI! So, this story is purely a gutsy attempt on my part, so don't expect too much detail on the investigative stuff. I'm more interested in the interaction between Mindy and the characters of H50, particularly with McGarrett and Mindy Macready. Mindy just lost a father and now she's set her sights on McGarrett as her new father-figure! ROFL. Should prove challenging for both parties.
Just a crazy idea that popped into my head. LOL. I originally categorized this story as a crossover, but it's mostly set in the H50 universe, with Mindy Macready as the chaos factor. Also, I'm tossing all the costumed super-hero stuff out the window. ^_^ (Although, I'm sure some of us fan-girls wouldn't mind seeing McGarrett in tights just for a lark. ;3 LMFAO)
Reader input or reactions are greatly appreciated.
Also, don't forget to check out Steve and Danny in the middle of a Zombie Apocalypse! Check out the fanfic: 'These Things That Go Bump In The Night' by lil-anonymous-girl! ;D Brrraaaaiiiinnnsssss.