ANOTHER KIND OF R & R

© June 2009 by Lori

Arriving at the fishing pier, the tall, dark-haired haole with the big black car seemed quite out of place. Fortunately, Steve McGarrett was at least casually dressed—his usual attire, a stifling suit, was in retirement for the day. It was Sunday, after all. On most Sundays, he could be found out on his boat, unless some crisis was in progress that required Five-O's attention.

It wasn't a crisis, he hoped, that took him away from his boat and brought him out to this particular pier, popular with local natives, in the middle of a very hot day. Already, he saw—to his relief—the familiar profile of the object of his mission—Dan Williams, whom he came seeking.

As Steve began the long walk down the pier over the blue ocean, he temporarily shut out the raw beauty that surrounded him. It wasn't easy, though. The fishy smell, the salty air, the animation in the spry conversations of the old-timers who occupied this spot daily and knew well that he was not of the usual crowd—all tried to pierce his concentration.

But Steve was a master at being single-minded, especially on the job. Today was no different, even though his mission was of a more personal nature.

The closer he got to Danno, though, the more he wondered what was going on with his friend and colleague. Even from a distance, he didn't seem his affable self. Ordinarily, Steve would not have been surprised to have found Danny in the center of a gaggle of these pier occupants, laughing and joking among them like the native that he was.

Instead, Steve McGarrett found the activity on the pier going on without his friend—around him, but not with him. He was apart, sitting quietly alone on one of the rickety benches built as an appendage out from the wooden railing of the pier itself. He deftly held a fishing rod in his hands, seemingly prepared to reel in with gusto whatever catch he made.

But knowing his friend all too well, the intensity of the moment seemed to have nothing, really, to do with fishing. Steve briefly imagined that a flying fish could jump out of the water to swallow the bait, hook, and line all the way down to the reel and Danny would not notice or even blink.

Coming up beside his friend, Steve arrived to lean against the pier's railing just an arm's length away. "Danno?" he quietly called.

Danno had not noticed the new arrival prior to his speaking. Startled and truly puzzled, he turned to look and said, "Steve. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," his boss and friend said matter-of-factly.

"Why? Is something wrong? You need me at the office?" Danny responded.

To Steve, it seemed Danny had instantly come out of his reverie—an encouraging sign—and was in ready mode if he was needed for work. But work was not what Steve needed from Danno right now.

"No, no. Everything's under control. It's just that, well…," Steve hesitated to continue, slapped his hand on Danno's shoulder, and chuckled in a brotherly kind of way, "when you said you needed a few days off, I didn't expect you to fall off the edge of the earth!" Steve tried to sound as though he was amused by the situation and not as concerned as he truly had been when days went by without any typical base-touching from his second-in-command.

"Oh." Danny seemed unfazed by Steve's humorous admonition. "So how did you find me all the way out here?"

Steve answered with an all-knowing look, a raise of his eyebrows, and a smile.

"Oh, yeah, how could I forget? You've got eyes and ears everywhere," Danny concluded. "Remind me next time, if I want to 'fall off the edge of the earth' to do it out of state—or at least off the island."

Changing the subject slightly, Steve asked, "Catch anything yet?"

"What?" Danny asked, not realizing he was talking about fishing. "Oh, you mean fish? Yeah, I've caught a few. Just gave them away. I'd rather not have to clean and filet them. I prefer my seafood from a restaurant."

"Sound pretty spoiled to me, Danno," Steve teased. "However, I see you've not only lost your shirt since the last time I saw you, you've also misplaced your razor." Again using his close knowledge of Danny's personality traits, he knew the several days' growth of beard on Danny's face and the bare minimum amount of clothing he wore on his even-more-deeply-tanned-than-usual body told Steve that his friend was either very relaxed or very depressed.

More disturbing, though, was the clear indication of the return of the nasty habit Danny had kicked long ago, at Steve's encouragement—cigarettes. Along with a nearly empty six-pack of beer nearby, this evidence spoke to Steve in worrisome tones—he just wasn't sure what it was saying.

Danny's own keen talents of observation were kicking in, too. He could tell he was being examined with a critical eye. He didn't need that right now.

"Steve, I'm on my own time. If you don't need me beforehand, I'll be back at work on Wednesday like we planned. Until then, I'll call in everyday if that will make you more comfortable," Danny said defensively. Instantly believing that he had been too sharp in response to Steve's concern, he added, "I didn't mean to worry anyone."

'Leave me alone' is all Steve heard between the lines of Danny's response. Only because Danno was his closest friend—and he was worried about him—did he let that pass. Pausing a few moments to let the tension of the moment go by, Steve realized he was already on the precipice of intrusion but ventured out to another uncomfortable topic while he was at it.

"Your girlfriend, Kate, called the office looking for you. She said that she hadn't been able to get in touch with you for days. She thought you must be working."

Surprised enough at the fact that Kate was trying to get in touch with him at all, and more so because she had called the Five-O offices, Danny turned his attention totally toward Steve to hear more. "Kate called? Did she say why?"

Noticing that this line of discussion sparked more interest in Danny than any conversation so far, Steve however could only shake his head and shrug. "Other than she wanted to talk to you, I don't know."

Danny looked back toward his fishing gear. Suddenly the character of the pier railing, with its cut-out niches created as resting places for poles, its slices made by bait-cutting sportsmen, along with initials carved in its weathered surface by those wanting to leave their mark, became much more interesting to him than anything or anyone else for the moment.

"What could she have wanted?" he mused. "After all, we broke up last week. I guess she didn't tell you that, did she?"

Steve briefly wondered if his ride out to this pier had borne fruit at last. "No, she didn't. Is that what's bugging you, why you needed a break—a broken relationship?" Steve's words were more accusatory and critical than he would have wanted. Danny was a professional, quite able to separate out his personal life's ups and downs from the seriousness of his job and its responsibilities. There had to be more.

"No, not really." Danny appeared to be opening up. "I mean, I'll miss her, sure. I really liked her, but that's not really…," he hesitated and stopped in frustration. "It was why she broke us up. It was that stupid newspaper article."

"Newspaper article?" Steve repeated. "You mean that story they did on you about two weeks ago?"

"Yeah," Danny answered, with a distasteful grin.

Steve looked confused. "It doesn't make any sense, Danno. That was a glowing article about your marksmanship. You were acclaimed as a hero. It was great publicity for Five-O. We almost never get anything positive written about us in the press." Steve thought for a few moments, then said, "What did you do—flirt with the lady reporter?"

"No!" Danny exclaimed with a look that said he wasn't in the mood for jokes. Then putting aside responding to the failed attempt at humor, he confessed a hint at the real reason for his sulky mood.

"Kate is a pacifist, I guess. But what does that make me—a warmonger? You know, Steve, for everyone who thinks some cop's a hero, there's somebody else who thinks he perpetuates brutality. To some, I'm just another killer." He looked up with hardened eyes to see how much Steve understood from that simple summary of the heaviness of his thoughts.

Steve understood plenty and came to realize that Danno's 'funk' had a much deeper foundation than he previously had thought. He stopped just leaning against the pier railing and instead took a seat next to Danno on the rickety bench. "Is that what she said?"

After a few silent moments, Danny responded, "Not in so many words, but that was the gist of it. I am a peace officer. What right did I have to kill…," adding with hesitation, "Kurt Stoner or Bill Shem or anybody else in a long list of unfortunate people at the wrong end of the barrel of my gun…?" [episodes: Hookman and And I Want Some Candy and a Gun That Shoots]

"Danno, you have never harmed anyone—anyone!—other than in the line of duty and always in order to save someone else. That doesn't make you a killer, no matter what anyone says."

"But maybe I'm the one who's saying that now." The conflict in Danny's soul was evident in his face as he talked. "There have been too many… too many…."

Steve was getting very, very concerned for his friend and colleague. Danny's countenance was filled with depression, dejection, and self-doubt. "Danno, you know as well as I do that being part of Five-O is not easy. And a lot of the blame lies with the kind of people we deal with. Cases get booted up to Five-O because they're tough to crack or have very high stakes. And with those factors come some very tough criminals who often leave us no choice except to take drastic, life-ending, steps to stop them."

Although he seemed to be listening, Danny was quiet and did not respond. Steve continued, "You happen to be very talented with weapons, and we need that skill. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Opening up more and more, Danny started trying to express his jumbled thoughts. "You know, when you become a cop, everybody talks about the risk you're taking. 'Gonna get yourself killed,' they say. And you have to be prepared that that may happen. But beyond the risk, what about the responsibility? Once you become a cop, you're always a cop—there is no 'off-duty'. You always have to be ready to jump in and rescue any victim in your path and make the judgment of whose life is more worthwhile—the victim's, a suspect's, or your own!"

"Danno, you're missing one important element—the thing that the criminal has and you don't—MALICE. There's not a malicious bone in your body, so when you have to use whatever skills you have to stop someone who is acting WITH malice, then you do it. You have done it, and it was the right thing at the time. Don't ever forget that."

"But that certainly sets you and me apart from the rest of society, doesn't it? We can kill without punishment. Instead, we're called 'heroes'."

A terrible thought jolted Steve, which he instantly verbalized. "You're not thinking about hanging it up, are you?"

After a dramatic pause, Danny spoke, "Maybe. I've got a lot to think about."

With that, Steve found himself unable to respond. He couldn't fathom running Five-O without Dan Williams' able assistance and backup—or his unwavering support. Nor could he, or would he want to, force him to stay.

Steve knew Danny's emotions were controlling the moment—and dealing with emotions was not Steve's strongest suit—and he felt he had already used his best arguments anyway. All he could do is leave his friend to ponder the bitter realities of this cop's life they had chosen and hope that he would find that it was worthwhile after all.

Struggling to say something, Steve mentally searched for words that were both compassionate but would also keep Danno in the Five-O fold. "Danno, I don't want you to leave Five-O. I need you there. But if you're at a point where you'll be miserable continuing, then—well, it's up to you, you know that."

Danny looked up and met Steve's eyes with sincere gratitude. "Thanks for coming out to check on me. I'll be OK, no matter what."

"Look, Danno, if you need more time to work this out, let me know. We can continue to cover things at the office. Maybe in a few days, things will be plainer, and I hope—I hope," he emphasized, "—that means you'll be ready to come back to work."

"Thanks, Steve. I'll be in touch." A tight smile crossed Danny's face and that indeed gave Steve some comfort.

"In the meantime, don't give away all the seafood. The restaurants need to get it from somewhere!"

"Don't worry. There are always more fish in the sea!" Danny said with a twinkle in his eye at the double entendre.

Steve laughed, "Indeed there are, bruddah!" as he walked his way back up the pier toward the shore.

It hadn't been more than a few minutes since Steve left. The talk had cleared Danny's mind somewhat, made him not less troubled than before but at least a little less gloomy. He felt now that whatever his next move was, he would have McGarrett's support. Without family of his own in the islands, his friendship with the older and wiser Steve was important to him and he respected his opinions.

Deciding to enjoy his fishing a little more deliberately, Danny re-baited his line and cast it again into the depths. He wasn't an especially good fisherman, but he wasn't too bad, either. The glamour of surfing—and the admiration of the girls on the beach—had always attracted him much more than this earthy sport. Not that there weren't girls around on the fishing pier; it's just that they were usually the older type, and their tanned skins were more leathery than sultry.

He laughed at the thought, and it felt good; it seemed he hadn't laughed in a week—a long time for a fun-loving guy. Unfortunately, the philosophy of life from a fisherman's angle was not a line of thought he would pursue for long, as he was distracted by a loud altercation from further down at the end of the pier.

"Look at that! You fouled up my line again! Why don't you get out of my way! This is my spot! You've cost me a huge catch! Now get out of here!" The words were coming from a tanned, rotund man dressed in shorts and a tank top. He was not a regular to this pier and was dead drunk and mad at the poor fisherman who happened to be positioned next to him.

On that portion of the pier were the serious fishermen. They had paid for their spots within a roped off area just for those fishing for the "big" ones (like those that often get away.) These guys and gals showed up before dawn and stayed until dark. Instead of having a medium-sized bucket filled with water for their catch as the casual fishermen did, this area's sportsmen had a big tank ready to hold a catch as long as six feet.

Dan Williams groaned. He hoped that the verbal abuse would be the worst of this noisy clash disturbing his afternoon. The lightened mood he had felt after Steve left had been way too temporary. He looked down wishing for the umpteenth time that he didn't have that responsibility about which he had so recently complained. In his current state of mind, he didn't feel particularly able or willing to rescue anyone today.

Dan recognized the poor, slight man of Japanese origin that the large drunkard was railing against as Fuji, a retired caterer who now lived to fish from this pier, and ate what he caught. "What did I tell you, little man! Get away from here! You're ruining my day. How would you like to visit the fishes up close and personal, huh?" With that, the drunken man pushed the defenseless Fuji with both hands, and then hefted him up over his ample shoulder, seemingly with the intention of tossing him over the railing.

Suddenly, the drunken man felt a two-handed strike to the small of his back, followed by a sharp chop to the area between his shoulder blades. "Stop! I'm a police officer! Put him down on the deck now!" Dan Williams ordered.

The other occupants of the pier secured their lines and ran toward shore, as Fuji was summarily dropped from the man's shoulder, not so much out of obedience to Dan's order but in reaction to his bodily blows. Recovering now, the drunken man hunched over with his hands on his knees and looked up at Dan and grinned and laughed.

The nameless man was about a head taller than Danny, and almost twice his weight, so he didn't see Dan as much of a threat. In his drunken daze, he felt his fun was just beginning….

Dan's tense tanned muscles glistened in the sunshine as he reached down to assist Fuji to his feet. He tightly but calmly whispered to the little man, "Run, Fuji, and call the police."

Just as Fuji began his escape toward shore, Danny felt himself jumped by a large smelly body, and they both crashed down against the aged wooden timbers which made up the pier. Dan wriggled and writhed against the man who was using his weight alone to hold down his opponent. Realizing his reactions might be a little slowed by his own alcohol intake, Dan momentarily regretted the four or five beers he had downed this afternoon but hoped that it might give him the misplaced gumption he might need to successfully subdue this rhinoceros of a man.

Stupidity aside, the muscles and gumption combined with slippery sweat to slide the strong but sluggish man off of Dan's body. Dan quickly got to his feet and crouched ready for hand-to-hand combat.

The drunken man did the same-only he suddenly had an unmistakable advantage. From somewhere he pulled a long, slender, deadly filet knife, and now threatened the police officer with a quick swipe across the midsection.

It was a part of the fishing way of life—everybody had a knife here. Being a predominantly peaceful culture, it wasn't a problem, usually. It was practical for cleaning the fish, filleting, and cutting up bait. Knives of all shapes and sizes lay all over the pier. Danny could only hope that one might be within his reach, but he couldn't take his eyes off the one facing him long enough to look….

Danny jumped back from the initial swipe and watched the grinning man as he continued to swing the knife just out of reach of Dan's body. As he deftly avoided the shiny blade, Dan counted his odds, two of which he believed to weigh heavily against him.

One, except for his muscles and grit, he was unarmed. With only a pair of shorts clothing him, there was no where to hide even his small .22 caliber revolver, and no reason to expect any danger, so he had brought no weapon.

Two, he was literally cornered. The nature of most fishing piers is that they are dead ends, extending out over the ocean and stopping—only one way in and one way out. Danny and his armed companion were at the furthest end of the pier and his large foe was blocking any possible exit…

…except one. He briefly considered jumping over the rail into the ocean. He could do it. He was an excellent swimmer, and it would be an easy escape, if he could get there safely. He just wasn't so sure he could climb up and over the rail without his adversary knifing him in the back before he could launch himself into the sea.

And he had to consider the innocent citizens nearby—without him there to occupy the knife-wielding man, he could turn on any of the others who had vacated the pier but were waiting on shore for the police to arrive.

What had he just been talking about, thinking about? Risk and responsibility. How he sometimes hated one as much as the other!

As his mind wandered inevitably to the delicate irony of this dangerous situation on the very day he had been contemplating his future, risk and responsibility collided as the knife met Danny's abdomen and sliced across it. Blood spattered over the perpetrator, who seemed to enjoy that as well as the fight itself.

"Stop! Police!" The drunken man paused with his knife in mid-air as he was about to plunge it into Dan Williams' bare back as Dan doubled over in pain from the first strike. "Drop the knife now or I'll shoot!" yelled Steve McGarrett.

Steve had doubled back to the pier when he heard the call for assistance on the police radio. Blue and whites were on their way but he was closer. Besides, Danno was on that pier.

The drunken man looked over at McGarrett and smiled and reared his arm back further to strike Danny with absolute certainty—and malice.

McGarrett's gun fired once, and the man's arm dropped the knife as a bleeding hole opened up in his right shoulder. McGarrett dashed forward as the man sank to his knees and then fell unconscious to the deck. Steve reached him quickly, kicked the offending knife away, and felt for his carotid pulse.

Seeing HPD officers now coming toward him from the shore, he yelled to them to call for two ambulances as he turned toward his own downed officer. Danny was conscious and moving, clutching his abdomen in pain and turning to see Steve kneel beside him.

"Easy, Danno, easy." Steve pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to stem the flow of blood from Danny's body, but the wound was a long one, if not too terribly deep. "Be still, there's an ambulance coming."

Danny sucked in a huge breath and pulled away as Steve touched the wound with the thin cloth, but bravely managed to say, "I… think… it's just a… flesh wound. What about that guy? Is he dead?" Danny inquired with short breaths and fuzzy eyesight.

"No, he's not dead." Steve looked over to where one of the HPD officers was attending the drunken man. "He'll probably be OK…," I hope.

"He was just drunk and…" –another huge breath—"being stupid."

"Be quiet, Danno. Don't worry about him. Besides, you just took on a guy twice your size—I wouldn't be calling anybody else stupid."

"He was going to hurt Fuji. I had to stop him."

"Exactly. Well done, Danno. But for now, flesh wound or not, you don't need to make the bleeding worse by moving around so much."

Danny grimaced and settled down, then muttered, "What a day…."

"Yeah…," Steve absently agreed as he continued to try to minimize the bleeding.

"Steve…," Danno shifted slightly to look directly at Steve and divert his attention from the sliced open skin. "Thanks for what you did. You saved my life, and it wasn't the first time. I appreciate it."

Casting a sideways glance at his friend, Steve replied, "You do? Are you sure?"

"What do you mean?" Danny looked a little hurt emotionally.

Steve's sarcasm was dripping. "You know I'm going to make you pay for this terrible guilt I'm going to suffer for being forced to shoot someone in order to save your life, huh?"

The light went on quickly even in Danny's injured state. "Touché, Steve."

"Actually, I was just trying to save myself the trouble of hiring someone new for the team. I already told you—Five-0 needs you and so do I. So, don't bleed all over this deck—it's not going to get you any slack from me. You are due back at work in a matter of days."

"That's funny…, but don't make me laugh," Danny said as the amusement jostled his wound.

"What's funny?" Steve interrupted with a confused look.

"There was another time… when you told me… not to bleed so much," Danny reminded him, struggling to stay conscious [episode: And They Painted Daisies on His Coffin].

"Oh, yeah…," Steve grinned. "Things change, Danno. People change. And people change each other. You don't bleed as much as you used to, and I probably bleed more. See what a bad influence you've been on me?" taking the curly head into his lap as Danny visibly weakened from the blood loss.

"Okay…, I get the point. From the victim's point of view…, we need people like us. I guess… I needed 'saving' today to recognize that. Thanks for… doing the honors."

As he watched his friend's eyes close gently, Steve answered, "No problem, bruddah."

PAU

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