Loko 'ino Na'au

by Irene Claire

Loko 'ino Na'au translate to evil or bad feelings. Danny has a bit of a bad day after bumping into an old man who shares what could be a dire warning. One chapter (believe it or not). With implied whumpage (yup - IMPLIED!). An attempt at humor.

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

Loko 'ino Na'au = evil or bad feelings

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Jogging after Danny down the sidewalk, it was easy for Steve to shake off the severe clutch of fear that had quite literally taken his breath away in the large commercial kitchen at the rear of the hotel's upscale restaurant. He was happy to get rid of it in fact and now, he couldn't hide the smirk and the increasing bubble of laughter which was aching to come out of his chest. As he gained ground, he could see that Danny was just arriving at the Camaro and popping the trunk open to change his shirt.

Even from a distance, the ill temper was obvious and that point only tugged harder on Steve's urge to laugh heartily at his partner's expense. "Hey! Danny .. come on. Wait a minute!" Even though he was ignored, Steve didn't lose his smirk one spare ounce.

To be fair though, the old man hadn't only spooked Danny the prior evening; he'd taken up residence in the back of Steve's brain, too. The bad feelings had come to the fore-front as the morning became late afternoon. They scratched at Steve quietly every time the phone rang or a new email chimed in.

In comparison, Danny had been much more vocal about it as the day dragged on and his naturally funny superstitious nature only made him all the more nervous. Angry about his own reaction, he'd been scowling for most of the afternoon even when Governor Denning invited the entire team to a working lunch on his dime at a local hotel's fine restaurant.

However during that same lunch, the strange old man's evil-seeming warning had come true. Yet still, Steve was vainly fighting the urge to laugh because what had happened in the end was undeniably not something any of them had foreseen.

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Less than fifteen minutes earlier they had all been sitting together in the comfort of the air-conditioned restaurant. Denning was the planned guest of honor at a special event to be held that evening at the very same hotel. So, meeting his task force there was most convenient for a number of reasons. Especially since he wanted more security orchestrated around the event which had been prompted by an odd threat he'd personally received earlier in the week.

There were six of them in the private room when the commotion began in the main restaurant and seemed to then flow back towards its inner recesses. The four Five-0 team members, Denning and his security manager stared at each other briefly. Their lunch had yet to be served and they only had an array of cold drinks spread across the table. Then, the odd noises and sporadic screams sounded out at first as if far away and muffled. Shouts and a loud bang emanated from nearer to the kitchen but still, much too close for comfort. Finally, more screams and a short spat of gunfire reached their ears and the entire team lurched to their feet as one with the Governor's own security manager already covering Denning's back as he demanded that his men take appropriate action.

The security manager hustled Denning out a small back door where the main contingent of his men had quickly assembled. Making sure the room was clear and Denning was gone, Steve and his team readied for an offensive plan of action in the direction of the restaurant.

"See." Danny's rant was about to begin in earnest and Steve's face tightened to avoid a twinge of emotional worry. "Lunch you said! What could possibly happen? This .. this could happen."

Rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, Chin smothered his smile as more frightened screams were heard. There was no stopping Danny as another round of shots seemed to be fired into the ceiling. "No backup. No vests .. no radios. Nothing! This, Steven, is exactly what that old maniac said!'

"Danny, that old maniac was a total crackpot." Steve complained back, though he had his own worries lurking just beneath the surface. An illogical urge to cover his partner more than usual moved him forward carefully.

Giving strict orders to proceed with utmost care, Steve growled unhappily under his breath. They each had their own personal weapons and needed more intelligence but they had little technology to rely upon.

Peering out the private room's door, Steve saw two waitresses cowering under the lip of a service station. He called out to them to get their attention where they huddled side by side. "Hey! How many and where?"

He didn't try to be quiet since a quick visual recon showed not much to see. He was sure the men were in the kitchen. Too frightened to speak, one waitress shook her head but the other was more vocal as she wiped tears from her face.

"Two men. They have our head chef and one busboy in the kitchen. I think they said they came for the Governor."

"Anyone injured?" Counting heads, there were just a few patrons hiding under tables and evidently, too afraid to move.

"No. We don't know what to do." Motioning to Chin and Kono, Steve instructed them to clear the room of all civilians. Other than to the kitchen, the only door would lead to the main lobby and he could see a few of Denning's security already back in their vicinity to assist. For both teams and with Denning safe, their immediate next course of actions would be corralling the civilians before taking down their adversaries.

Sneaking past Steve, the cousins gathered the two waitresses and quickly spread across the floor to herd up additional customers while Steve eyed the double swinging door to the kitchen. Near him, Danny was clearly unhappy but automatically on his game as they listened hard to the sounds of angry talking which finally reached their ears as the restaurant was completely evacuated.

Soundlessly, he and Danny took offensive positions near the kitchen where the rant had died on Danny's lips. Keeping it to himself, his head was still churning in the background about the old man's pointed warning. Sensing the mental distraction, Steve glared meaningfully once in his direction and received a blatantly dark look for his troubles.

"Ready." Danny hissed angrily under his breath as he hunched down below the service window of the right-hand swinging door. Steve was on the left side, which was more often used as the kitchen's exit where the wait staff would depart with complete meals for their guests.

Before entering, Steve motioned wildly to Denning's men and then up to the ceiling. While it was mid afternoon, killing the lights in the restaurant and kitchen would be distracting enough since the space was inside the hotel structure with no windows. It would provide a large enough difference to afford them at least some advantage. As soon as the lights flickered and dimmed, he and Danny barged through the swinging doors but Steve was unexpectedly bowled over backwards as one of the gunmen tried to get out at the same time.

With the busboy in front, the panicked gunman virtually ploughed over the top of Steve to knock him completely off his feet. Unimpeded, Danny was on the move and he continued on into the kitchen to confront the second who held the angry chef up against the commercial refrigerator as a human shield.

"Drop it! Drop it now!" Danny's first shouts were met with gunfire and Steve could do little to help as the doors swung on their hinges. In a tangle of arms and legs, Steve was unable to get to his feet as the gunman cursed and the busboy practically sobbed in fear.

Reacting angrily, Steve whaled near the gunman's head with deliberate and very hard wallops. Using the hand which held his weapon, he soon connected sharply with the back of the man's neck. The gasp and eventual lack of resistance proved he had found his mark with the butt of his gun, but the busboy remained twisted in the middle where he continued to screech.

"You're okay." Struggling to right himself, Steve knew at least the gunman was out for the count but the young busboy was petrified and now hanging onto his arm. Trying to gently push the boy away and towards the exit, Steve was protective when the boy gripped his arm spasmodically. "Hey. Listen to me. You're fine. Go .. go out the front. Go!"

Making it to his knees, he gave the kid a stern shake when he heard a few new shouts and Danny's stern voice demanding compliance. Unfortunately, a third volley of gunfire resounded from inside the kitchen as if to bear witness to the gunman's formal reply. It was all finally enough to send the kid scrambling away on his hands and knees in the direction Steve forcibly pushed him. "Go. Now. Move!"

"Chin! Take him!" From the lobby, Chin was already on his way back to grab up the kid from Steve and to guide him the rest of the way towards safety. Seconds later, he was at Steve's side and making sure the first gunman was indeed secure. Oddly, the sounds inside the kitchen had stopped and both men paused in surprise.

"Danny!" Toeing the swinging door open, Chin tried to do two things at once. He could just see Danny's legs and a red puddle which made the lack of reply all the more worrisome. "Steve. He's down."

Chin glanced from what he could see of his fallen team-mate to Steve when the door began to swing shut. Swinging the door once more more on its hinges, it was just enough for Steve to also glimpse the grim puddle of red on the floor. Finally lurching to his feet and diving through the entry, he thought it ironic how the old man's ridiculous premonitory warning wasn't so much of one after all.

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When Steve had gone down under the bodily rush of the first gunman and the busboy, Danny had skidded across the kitchen's white tile floor and fallen on his knees nearly under one of the impressive metal prep tables. He ducked down to avoid the flurry of gunfire before returning a few well-aimed shots which kept the second gunman from leaving out the rear door.

Pinned down and alone, the gunman was in a fury as he continued to use the chef as a shield. "Drop it, Five-0!" Danny screamed again and over the deafening exchange of gunfire which was not only quick and fierce, but strangely overwhelming as bullets clanged off pots and impressive metal appliances. His refusal was obvious as loud pops sounded on the metal pots above his head making them rock and shift from where they hung on their elevated rack. Danny cursed when he felt something painfully hit him near his neck and then the left side of his chest.

Warm and wet, he knew that he'd been hit as something hard then slammed into the top of his head. When it hit the floor, he winced at the metal pot which had come crashing down from the suspended cook rack. Ignoring any coming agony, Danny sighted his target's chest at the same time the chef tore free.

"Down, down, down!" Danny shouted as the chef dove to the floor and then skidded behind a large garbage bin. Slipping again as the floor under him became slick, Danny got off two more rounds before falling onto his side. Breathless as the din suddenly ceased, he rolled slowly onto his back where he dimly watched the pots above him continually rock from the aftershocks. Across his shirt, a dire red stain began just below his left clavicle and spread ominously over his heart. From the doorway, he heard Chin and then Steve's voice but was too stunned to answer.

"Danny!" Chin tried again but had to turn his attention away as the first gunman began to rouse more and weakly struggle.

"Get this guy out of here and then get help." Moving now through the doorway, Steve was was making demands as he took in the scene. The chef was now hiding behind the heavy door to the refrigerator which he had opened to provide better protection. On the floor and near him, the second gunman was down and bleeding heavily from one of Danny's shots.

Moaning in pain, the bullet had wounded him just near his right shoulder but there was no obvious exit hole. Kicking the man's weapon away, Steve took the time necessary to haul the injured man to his feet and into the waiting arms of two of Denning's men where he sagged limply between them. "Take him."

His next gesture had the chef escaping in their wake and to Kono, who was making sure all the staff were now accounted for in the hotel's main lobby area.

"Get him out of here!" Steve demanded as he finally circled the steel table to get a better look at Danny. Because now and even as the altercation died down, Danny remained silent and nearly motionless on his back as the stain seemed to grow in front of Steve's very eyes.

"Hey, Danny .. let me see." Terribly worried, Steve dropped down to his knees, relieved that Danny's hands were moving over his own neck and chest. It was as if he were seeking out the source of his own injuries as he gasped from what had to be severe pain.

"Move your hands. Let me see."

"I got hit." Danny's eyes were blinking madly as if he were in shock and he was coughing while trying to get out a few words. Near his head, a smaller empty cook pot had seemingly fallen off the suspended racks above the large table. It rocked back and forth almost annoyingly to make a rhythmic clacking sound before finally stilling.

"I'm hit. Am I hit? Why doesn't it hurt?" The words became a monotonous chant and it took a long long minute for Steve to grab the red-stained fingers that were flailing wildly in the air.

Calming himself, Steve picked up where Danny left off to gently check the seriousness of the wounds. He frowned and then unbuttoned the few top buttons of his partner's shirt to peer down where the bullet holes would be … or actually, should be.

"Uh." It was a nonsensical stunned sound as Steve's fingers found … nothing. "Uh, geez. Danny."

The wind left his lungs in a rush. However, it was then that the smirk started and Steve sank tiredly back onto his heels. Looking at the floor and then up to the prep table, Steve traced the dark red blotch which seeped into Danny's shirt to the puddle on the floor and then up to the stainless steel table where the overturned pot continued to drip. There were pitted holes in the side of the large chef-sized soup pot which gave proof to what their perp had actually hit in the loud, fast volley of gunfire.

"It's bad, isn't it." Danny croaked out in fear as he saw the reaction. "It's why it doesn't hurt .. it's bad."

"No. It's sauce." Steve blurted it out and then lost his ability to even smirk as he squeezed Danny's fingers hard to stop the inane litany.

"No. Danno, you're fine. It's sauce." The information was delayed in reaching his ears and then actually making a dent. When it did, Danny merely blinked even more quickly into Steve's laughing eyes.

"What?" He coughed again and then dabbed tentatively at his chest. The dab became a hard poke and then he thumbed the material into a small red tent where it stayed puckered in a sadly ruined shape.

"Sauce?"

"Yup. Pasta sauce." Steve was giggling and couldn't help it by that point. "Unless you're hiding something or hit that stubbornly thick head of yours."

There was another pause as Danny stared up at Steve from where he lay flat on his back on the floor. He catalogued the distinct lack of pain, followed by the silence in the room which was only broken by Steve's ridiculous attempts at not laughing. Danny was completely baffled for a few minutes which changed as soon as he realized they were still holding hands.

"Let go." Danny sucked in a deep breath and then virtually barked out his demand as he yanked his fingers away from Steve's tight grip.

Grinning like a mad-man, the funny snort was loud as Steve lurched from his heels back to his feet while Danny rolled to his hip and then easily up to lean for a moment against the steel table. Tight-lipped and refusing now to meet Steve's eye or to take the proffered hand to steady himself, Danny ran his stained fingers through his mussed hair and then growled at himself as he settled even more clumps of sauce through some of its strands.

Steve's choked laugh was impossible to smother as Danny elbowed himself past, aiming to leave the kitchen towards the main floor of the restaurant. On his heels, Steve nearly fell over backwards when Danny unexpectedly changed course for the rear door which opened to the alley. Barreling straight into two HPD officers who were smart enough to be guarding the exit, Danny growled at them next.

"I'm sorry. It's just .. Danny .. it's .. sauce!" Uncontrollable laughter brought tears to Steve's eyes as Danny's hands flailed again silently in the air and he made his somewhat more private departure out the back.

"Steve!" The door to the kitchen slammed back open as Kono jogged in, her emotion clearly shining through. Behind her, the door thumped upon itself a few times before completing closing. "Chin said Danny got hit. EMS is on the way."

Kono looked around the kitchen confused by Steve's expression and the fact now that Danny wasn't even there. "Steve?"

"He's fine. Have them check out our perp." His laughter was undeniably a large portion of frank relief but in reality, what had happened was beyond funny when compared to what they had all thought about the old man's warning. It had Steve grinning like a loon.

"But. Chin.. he said .. it was bad .. what happened?" Her cousin had been upset by the volume of blood and had insisted that she stop everything she was doing to call an ambulance. The kitchen was a mess from the brief fight and she saw the imprint of shoes and boots across the floor where they'd smeared through a large red stain. Steve's hands were equally reddened in spots and she reared backwards in disgust when he shoved his fingers under her nose.

"Hey! Watch it!"

"Sauce." A new bout of chuckles came on the heels of the declaration just before their eyes met and Kono took a careful sniff. The quirk started as quickly as it had on Steve's face once she managed to take a deep breath and allowed her heart to calm its rapid beating.

"Pasta sauce." Beyond Steve, she now saw the overturned pot and the flood of its contents which spilled from table to floor.

"Sauce." She smiled as she repeated it to be sure and then laughed knowing Danny was likely in a snit now that things had worked out so strangely. Relieved as much as Steve, Kono laughed much more happily. "Okay. That's .. a relief .. I need to tell Chin."

Raising her eyebrows for Steve's benefit, she bit her lip before backing up to the main room. "But .. I'll just go …make sure things are okay out here. First." Failing at stifling her laughter, Kono left as Steve did the same out the rear door so that he could catch up to his perturbed friend.

Chasing after him now down the sidewalk, it was indeed easy for Steve to shake off his feelings of fear. Smirking widely and now truly unable to suppress the deepening chuckle, Steve followed in his partner's near stalking gait. He laughed harder as Danny threw the trunk of the Camaro open to rummage through a large duffel bag.

"So, Danny." The pursed lips refused to utter a sound as Danny dug through the bag. He did it with such a force, the contents nearly bounced back out and onto the pavement.

Steve watched patiently as Danny barely unbuttoned the rest of his red-stained, soaked and now sweat-creased dress shirt. Yanking on it as if it were the fabric's fault, he finally gave up on the buttons to pull it roughly over his head.

Glaring at Steve, he balled it up into a wet pile and tossed it next to the not so long ago and very much desired tac-vest. Leaning back in, Danny settled on completely ignoring Steve as he dug even more viciously though his bag for a cooler and spotlessly clean - but still very blue - HPD t-shirt.

He shrugged it on in a huff battling now the cotton material against the sweat on his chest where it snagged and got stuck on his damp skin before he could tug it down. Then he was gone before Steve could make a sarcastic remark of any kind. Dallying behind, Steve quickly tidied up the trunk before slamming it shut. With an idle toss of this keys in one hand, he was still smiling as he slid into the driver's seat. He blatantly stared across the space as Danny glowered angrily at nothing over the top of the dashboard.

"Why are you so mad? You should be happy. On cloud nine. Over the moon." Steve was nearly giggling as Danny slowly turned an angry grimace his way. Highly amused by the ongoing temper, he coughed out one more word around a barely contained chuckle. "No?"

There was another snort before Steve dissolved into a cascade of laughter that had tears spilling down his cheeks. Danny was squinting. Deeply and angrily squinting, while his lips remained pursed into a tight and nearly white line. "You are a first class ass."

Danny's comment and disgusted tone only worsened Steve's hilarity and before long, Steve was shaking his head while holding his stomach against the ache. For a supposedly unreligious, unspiritual man, his partner was incredibly superstitious and even antsy when it came to even an inkling of the occult. The prior evening coming out of a bar after having drinks together, an elderly unkempt man had lurched and bumbled his way down the sidewalk. Careening into Danny, he had grasped the detective's arms to remain upright and then shared a toothless, gaping grin. Instead of answering Danny's concerned query for his well-being, the man had patted his shoulder and uttered an inane string of near gibberish.

"Tomorrow. I see guns…a pool of red. You. You're in the middle."

His hand had left Danny's shoulder to gently pat the space over his heart. The experience had set his partner off in a bad way for the next long block of time. To such an extent, Danny threatened to call in sick if they didn't do their damnedest to avoid responding to any calls that next day.

In actuality, there was limited work on their docket and Steve was relieved to get a call from Denning about the lunch meeting. It was a normal and welcome distraction. What could possibly happen during lunch at a fine hotel restaurant with Hawaii's governor in attendance?

Steve snickered loudly as he looked in the rear view mirror at the main entrance to the hotel where HPD was milling about and the ambulance had just arrived. Denning was long gone and safely ensconced with his own security detail. The two gunmen were properly controlled; one was on a gurney and the second was now in an HPD cruiser and on his way to jail.

Denning's two remaining security men were on site with HPD, and he trusted that both Chin and Kono would monitor the exchange and any next steps. He knew that the hotel staff would be interviewed in regard to how the men had entered in the first place. The even larger question being how they had even known about the impromptu luncheon. Denning's personal security manager had an extremely large stake in getting answers to that particular gaff.

On top of it all, the premonition had been duly correct, but in a very different way. Clearing his throat, Steve tried again to dampen his smile. "So. Danny."

Next to him in the car, Steve finally felt the energy change as Danny came down a few emotional pegs. He didn't doubt that the adrenalin rush would have an impact regardless of the situation. Both of them had been rattled and each was equally relieved. Though their initial reactions were quite different, Steve couldn't blame Danny one bit since he felt precisely the same way.

"You good?" Steve was smiling again, but he asked the question in all seriousness. Danny was virtually sitting bonelessly in the passenger seat and sweat was still streaming down his face.

Thumbing the ignition on, Steve aimed the air conditioning vents in Danny's direction where he seemed to wilt even more. "Honestly Danny, how are you doing? You okay?"

"Do you know what I need? Do you have any idea of what I need right now?" Nearly interrupting, Danny's words were clipped as he tried to stay mad. He knew Steve was genuinely asking though the grin never left his face. But even he was having difficulty now as Steve's huffed snorts renewed themselves in earnest from the driver's seat.

The scent of tomatoes and possibly even oregano and garlic permeated strongly through the cabin of the Camaro as the cold air circulated. Bits of Danny's hair were blowing as if in a strong breeze despite being coated in thick streaks of red tomato sauce.

Then, he never got a chance to answer his own questions about the luxury of ever having a more empathetic partner, because Steve soon became a lost cause. A piece of Danny's hair had started to clump and fall messily out of place as the sauce dried. Stained and eerily discolored, a thick chunk of reddened hair hung limply down by his left ear.

Without apology and with tears once more running down his cheek, Steve flinched into the driver's side door as he readied himself for a friendly pummeling.

"Garlic bread?" Steve asked on a garbled choked-out sound. The effort nearly strangled him, though Danny's astonished gasp preceded a sharp yet bona fide laugh, too. It was then that the first of several solidly fisted blows connected sharply with Steve's right bicep.

~ END ~