A/N: It's been a while since I last posted. Real life got busy and the muse went on vacation. A massive thank you, as always, to Phoebe for her amazing editing skills and suggestions. This started out as a one-shot, but ended up being three chapters. The remaining two chapters just need editing, so hopefully you won't have to wait too long between posts. Phoebe is now cursing me for saying that. Sorry!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any of the characters.

Down The Rabbit Hole

Chapter One

Present time.

He couldn't pinpoint the how or the when, but for some inexplicable reason the tables had turned. He was now the prey, not the predator. Another glance over his shoulder made his heart rate increase - his pursuer was gaining. He headed for the first room that came into view. Like a fullback taking a dive he crashed through the half open door almost taking it off the hinges, landing hard, the air forced from his lungs.

Scrambling to his feet, he shook the fog from his mind, and by sheer force of will, he staggered forward, slamming into the door and knocking it shut. Stumbling backwards, in a state of shock, he focused solely on the beast closing in on his position. Time seemed to slow down, his brain unable to process what was unfolding around him. He listened to every sound, smelt the god awful stench, and then evil was upon him, devouring the air around him, until he could taste his impending demise.

Earlier.

Steve stifled a yawn. He couldn't remember being this tired in a very long time. The islands were currently in the grips of a heatwave, and even at sunset, the mercury was still touching the mid-eighties. Danny had wasted no time in cranking the Silverado's A/C up to full blast.

"You know you'll have to get this detailed. It's gonna stink." Danny couldn't help but grin as he gazed out the side window watching the suburban sprawl flash by.

"And that little observation makes you happy because?" Steve stared at his partner expectantly.

"Hey, eyes on the road." Danny tugged on his seat belt more out of habit than insecurity. "Because we're not in my car."

"I should've guessed it'd be that."

"My mom would swear she could still smell the remnants of smoke on my dad when he came home from work, even though he'd cleaned up before leaving the fire station."

"That was one mean fire."

"The guy was a doofus. Who tries to torch a crime scene after the fact, huh?"

"Yeah, with half of HPD and us at the scene. He wasn't the brightest perp, that's for sure."

"By the way, that Navy shower, the one I know you're thinking about taking, ain't gonna be man enough to tackle this stench." Danny rubbed his hands together. "I on the other hand will be taking my time. A very long time, my friend."

Danny frowned as he watched Steve slow the truck to a stop by the sidewalk. "Now what?"

"Those guys -" Steve pointed to a group of five men walking on the opposite side of the road, "- there. I recognize two of them from a file Duke showed us earlier in the week."

"Let me guess. The gang that's been jacking cars over in Chinatown?"

Without answering Steve drove the Silverado onto the same side road the perps had just disappeared down.

Danny cleared his throat. "Steven, what are you doing?"

"Our jobs, Danno." Steve pulled the truck into the curb.

"I had a feeling you were gonna say that. No chance we could just call this one in?"

"You really need me to answer that after seven years?" Steve was out of the vehicle before Danny had a chance to respond.

"Fantastic. Now I'll never get my shower." Danny grumbled as he followed his partner.

Steve cautiously edged along the perimeter of a private residence. Their quarry had slipped through a gap in the high chain link fence that surrounded the property. Danny came up alongside him and motioned with his gun to the words on a ratty old sign hanging lopsidedly from the barbed wire barricade by a single zip tie. Danger unsafe. Do not enter or occupy.

Danny rolled his eyes. "We should alert HPD."

Steve shook his head. "We'll lose the element of surprise. I'll go around front. You take the rear."

"Fine, but let's not do anything heroic. On last check they are five; we are two. Capeesh?"

"We got this." Steve glared at Danny stony-faced.

Without waiting for what was sure to be another protest, Steve headed towards the house, pausing briefly to watch Danny move down the side of the property. When his partner was out of sight, he climbed the steps to the front door, gun at the ready, he very slowly pushed against the rotting wood, surprised when it moved. Easing it open he glanced inside before entering.

The interior was bathed in an eerie half-light. Steve scanned the area around him seeing nothing but dust and cobwebs. An array of coats hung on the far wall. Shoes scattered underneath, some of which were children's. The family must have left in a hurry. He contemplated the why, while listening hard for the slightest movement, but apart from the sound of his own breath, the house stood silent. He was convinced the five men had entered the property, but the quiet told a different story. Shaking off a feeling of unease he systematically cleared every room, each time coming up empty. As he neared the bottom of the stairs a chill ran down his spine, goosebumps rising on his arms. He pulled out his cell to call Danny, but a thud from above changed his mind. Shoving the phone back in his pocket, he started up the rough wooden steps.

Stopping short of the top, Steve wavered in place. He grabbed the handrail with his clammy hand, suddenly aware of the slight tremble in the other, he tightened his hold on the gun. Once again a cold shiver crept upon him, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, sending tendrils of water down his face and neck.

Steve flicked the SIG's flashlight on and continued up onto the landing. Sensing movement behind him, he swung around, and something hit him hard in the chest. The impact was so violent it lifted him completely off his feet and slammed him against the wall. His head struck bare brick before he landed with a thump on the floor. His weapon slipped from his hand, and he watched the light from his gun skip and jump as it tumbled back down the stairs. He attempted to stand, failing miserably when the world around him swam in and out of view. Still on his knees he reached up and tentatively touched the back of his head, his fingers coming away sticky.

After taking a few deep breaths he got back up onto his feet. With the light fading fast he made for the stairs with the aim of retrieving his gun, only to be stopped dead in his tracks. A smell, all too familiar, drifted up from below. His face, already white with pain, drained of its remaining color. The silence now punctuated by cracks and pops.

The walls, the ceiling, they were all closing in around him. He felt like he was trapped in one of those old crooked houses from the carnival. Claustrophobia? Was this how Danny felt? With his anxiety growing, he ran a shaky hand down his face. Sweat poured off of him as he fought to catch his breath. He closed his eyes tight, willing his heart to slow down. Taking back control he looked for a way out, somewhere to escape this new predator.

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

"We don't need backup. Why would we, when I'm the backup." Danny groused to himself as he negotiated yet another discarded car tire on his way to the back of the house. "Except, Steven, your backup is traversing a poor man's version of an obstacle course."

With his gun aimed at an unseen foe, Danny rounded the corner, keeping as low as possible, using the overgrown foliage and abandoned junk as cover. He blinked a few times trying to adjust his eyes to the dying light. The house and perimeter fence had hidden years of neglect from the outside world. Tall sunburnt grass stood high, weaving it's way through the relics of a family's past. A child's bike, a play set complete with swing and Charlie's favorite, a slide, rested on its side, part of the twisted frame embedded in the ground as if it was being consumed by the earth a piece at a time. Tucked in the far corner of the yard, an old station wagon half melted into the mud, front tires flat and paint peeling. Now it was certain to frighten kids rather than ferry them to school. He shivered and looked away. Why did it feel like the bucket of rust was watching him?

Satisfied his surroundings were secure, Danny made his way towards the back porch, clambering over the frame of a rusty pushbike. "I hate you so much right now, Steven."

A sudden noise penetrated the silence, and startled, Danny lost balance. Stumbling backwards, he grabbed onto the nearest object - a Tiki statue. The garden ornament toppled over, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

"Sonuvabitch." Danny squinted up at the nasty gash running across the palm of his hand. A slow trickle of blood ran down his arm.

A tiny sliver of unease sunk its claws into his brain. He cursed his overactive imagination. Exposed and vulnerable in this backyard jumble of jungle and junk, he shook off his misgivings and scanned the area for his weapon. The downed Tiki leered at him. Its large tongue protruding from its mouth between massive teeth.

"Get a grip, Williams." Danny ran his good hand through his hair.

Taking a few calming breaths, he struggled to stand, only making it up onto his knees when without warning, he found himself falling, the world around him tilting on its axis. He scrabbled for something to grab onto, but there was nothing. Finally he hit the bottom, the bones in his left ankle shattering like fine china. His head struck the dirty and decaying floor with a nauseating smack. The impact momentarily blurring his vision.

Lying there motionless like a damaged wooden puppet, he stared blankly at the darkening sky. While his body was still absorbing the shock of it all, his mind was in overdrive. What the fuck happened? He remember the sensation of being pushed. But How? He was alone. Wasn't he?

He tried to move to get a better look at where he'd landed, instantly regretting it. Acute pain radiated from his ankle and before long enveloped his entire body. A bone deep agony coursed through him. Rolling onto his side, he folded in on himself, biting down hard on his lower lip to stop himself from screaming out. The resulting metallic taste doing nothing to quell his churning stomach. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on slowing his breathing, to banish his growing fear. The minuscule piece of anxiety he felt moments before was now threatening to become an all out panic attack.

Danny wished he was child again. Life was simple then. Santa was real and when you closed your eyes you became invisible. Charlie did that, pretended no one could see him. If only that were true right then. He could sense eyes on him, boring into his soul. He was trembling. Even the humid evening air did nothing to stop the chill from taking hold. It felt like he'd broken every bone in his body - his ankle was busted for sure.

He couldn't stay down here, wherever here was, forever. Swallowing hard he forced his eyes open and was immediately confronted with a face - dirty and sad. Danny studied it intently and grinned. He gingerly reached out, scooping up the baby doll, rubber and naked with blonde frizzy hair and one eye glued shut. On his way to going mad, he giggled nervously. His tenuous grip on reality slipped as pain and fear overwhelmed him, and it wasn't long before the laughter became a sob and darkness took him.

~ to be continued ~