NO CONSCIENCE FOR THE WICKED
LucyMb
Steve McGarrett stared, open-mouthed, at the woman before him. This wasn't some stray mainland seagull he was after; it was a chilling and desperate criminal, one willing to take all hands with them if they had to.
He had never seen such determination and intelligence in an adversary's face, save his arch-enemy, Wo Fat, but this – from someone of the fairer sex, shocked him to the core. Back at the office they had speculated long and hard about her reasons for starting out on a career of mayhem and mass-murder but no one, not her family, nor even the psychologist they called in to review her case, had prepared them for the lack of answers. They wanted to say she had a hard childhood – hers had been picture perfect, they would have liked to have said she was abused – but her relationship with her former husband had seemed idyllic – right up until the moment she murdered him in his sleep. Cold blooded, calculated slaughter using any weapon to hand, this was her trademark and for no other apparent reason than she could.
Sweet Sally Cain.
Once in a while a human being comes out twisted for whatever reason and this one was just that – the use of the term `evil' was not something that the Head of Five-0 normally liked to employ but he regrettably could think of no other word to describe her. Money and a privileged background had only exacerbated her condition – leaving her free to indulge her passion for homicide.
Now she was set do it all over again, potentially for the last time and in style.
She didn't fit the profile of any criminal they had known – neither greed nor revenge were her motivation. Apparently the woman simply liked killing; pitting her wits against law enforcement as though it were some momentous joke or challenge and now, when she felt herself cornered, she was determined to take as many people down with her as possible. Her suicide would be spectacularly devoid of any sliver of conscience.
Whatever Sally did, she did with aplomb. The bomb strapped to her bosom had the same hallmarks as the one she left in the children's daycare center the previous week with horrific results. That one was timed to explode when the center was full of innocents. This was self-detonating. It was a masterful creation, not just practical, but exquisitely built, as though attention to detail was an important part of her M.O. No one could fault her for her lack of skill, or perfection.
The large yacht was packed with rich and colorfully dressed families celebrating the holiday spirit of King Kamehameha day. Their expensive week-long party around the islands had become a nightmare, their lives threatened by an unhinged mad woman, finger poised on the brink of destroying them all – simply because she wanted to. She had shot the Captain at her first opportunity, having bluffed her way onboard with a forged invitation and a suitcase that carried an even deadlier weapon. She figured that if anyone was going to stop her it would be him, besides which, she enjoyed exercising her right to meaninglessly execute by thinly disguising it as part of her grand plan.
The day was overcast, the water choppy and the winds strong, making it hard for McGarrett and his Second-in-Command to board the vessel, harder still when it was from the precarious platform of a helicopter; the only transport available to get them there in time. The call had come in from a panicked crew member who had managed to reach the radio before he was reduced to nothing but a memory for his family by a perfect shot right between his eyebrows. Cain was good at that too.
Steve had made it safely from the skids to the deck, only to be greeted by the sound of feminine laughter. She was there, waiting for him as he knew she was, surrounded by a group of terrified people, gun in one hand and, in the other, the instrument of their possible demise, manicured thumb poised on the ominous red button. The fact that crew and passengers alike had been standing out on deck for the past twenty-five minutes without attempting to wrestle back control was both a testament to her ability to command attention and the seriousness of the situation. The bomb was no joke – she had even had the presence of mind to test out a smaller version in the engine room. They were dead in the water.
After she rounded everyone up like cattle for slaughter, one poor cowardly soul had jumped ship, so terrified of what was happening that he would rather risk facing the perils of the open ocean than stay there. His drowning cries did not last long after the first shark sensed his flails. Witnessing his death, Sally simply smiled whilst those around her fought hysteria, shock and anger. A few openly wept, others called her names but it didn't make her angry – she agreed with them.
As McGarrett dropped to the deck, he swiftly pulled out his police special and, balancing one leg on the life-jacket locker, aimed it steadily at Cain. Williams followed, the chopper pilot setting him down on the roof of the bridge behind them, hopefully unseen by the monster with a pretty face. He had his rifle slung across his back and it took but a moment for him to get into position, flat on his stomach, before carefully aiming at the woman they had chased from one end of the islands to the other. The fact that she was female he believed did not register with him any longer; she was a murderer, no matter what her gender and lives were at risk, not least of all Steve's. If his boss could not talk her down then he would take her down.
"Cain, put down the weapon and let's talk about this." McGarrett offered as his opening gambit. He knew it was unlikely to work but had to try, nevertheless. The line was empty and meaningless to someone as determined and ruthless as her but his intention was to divert her attention so Danny could get settled and as much out of sight as possible, although there was no disguising his presence to who cared to look - including Sally Cain.
The chopper pulled away, hovering for a few minutes before her pilot turned makai and headed back to land, reporting the situation to the Coast Guard who were at least fifteen minutes from their position along with the anxious pair of Five-0 detectives who accompanied them.
"Now why should I do that, McGarrett?" Sally said as she divided her attention between her `prisoners', the retreating sound of the bird in the air and the determined man in front of her. "I respect you, but pardon me if I don't comply. I'm not very good at taking orders from anyone, least of all a cop. Why don't you take your own advice and put down your weapon?"
"No dice, lady, your reputation precedes you."
"Ah, you feel safer with that piece of metal in your grip, like that nice young officer who faced me down at the beach…he felt safe behind his weapon too, but that didn't stop me from killing him." She shrugged, "Well, I can understand your appreciation for weapons, I like my toys too – as you can plainly see." She waved the gun nonchalantly and indicated the contraption that was strapped to her. "My creations, however, are things of beauty and precision, yours are merely the regulatory trappings of a restricted society who believe they can be saved by heroes like you, or, perhaps the truth is they are really being kept under control by your Nazi troopers? It never ceases to amaze me how naïve the public can be. I believe we should have the freedom to live the way we want."
"Sane people don't think that cold-blooded murder comes under the title of freedom. Let us get you some help, you don't have to do this."
Sally sighed, shrugging an imaginary piece of hair off her chin with her shoulder, "You see that is part of the reason I have decided that today will be my last. All you people want to do is try and fix me and I'm NOT BROKEN! And since I doubt that my particular talents would be readily accepted anywhere else in your petty and so-called `civilized' world, it is with deep regret that I terminate my life." She turned slightly to emphasize the theatricality and possible finality, of her words to the assembled. "And yours too of course." She added and gave a high-pitched giggle that was in complete contrast to her somber appearance; dressed as she was in a black, sequined sleeveless cocktail dress. Her focus returned to McGarrett, even though she was still addressing everyone, "June the eleventh will henceforth be known as the anniversary of our deaths. Isn't that comforting?"
As Sally inclined her head and smiled, more crying could be heard; mothers comforting children, husbands supporting wives, lovers - each other - and the occasional sob disturbed the air as her victims shifted upon the rocking deck trying, almost as one, to get as far away from her as possible without actually moving.
Cain was clearly insane but completely coherent with it and she was enjoying the power she wielded, but at the back of her mind lay a prickle of concern. She knew all about Steve McGarrett; about his special unit and their reputation – he was someone worthy of her attention, an opponent she could play with, but whilst her claws were fully extended, she wasn't entirely sure that she wouldn't be the one to get scratched. She wanted this day to be on her terms, not McGarrett's. Despite her intention to blow herself to pieces, there was a small part of her that was curious about what this icon of law and order had up his sleeve. It never occurred to her that he would not be alone.
"If you want to kill yourself why not let these people go? The Coast Guard will be here soon - let them off, Sally and I promise I will stay with you…." McGarrett began.
Watching all from his precarious perch, Danny tuned out the meaningless words and concentrated on McGarrett. He knew that his friend would give him the right cue when he felt the woman could safely be taken out, if indeed that was what it required to bring this day to a close. They were taking a serious gamble that the woman's arrogance would prevent her from creating a bomb with a dead man's switch; that she wanted to feel the power, not have the result taken away from her in death - but in truth neither of them knew. If Dan fired and it wasn't a clean shot there was a high risk she would press the button. On the other hand, if he did shoot and her finger came off the trigger it could well result in the loss of everyone on deck, including both of them. Kaboom!
As McGarrett and Cain batted words back and forth like a pair of champion tennis players, Williams was focused on the rear of the woman's head with its tightly curled blonde bun; he had one eye on the target, the other on Steve. For the most part the drama unfolding below was so intense that every person on board had all eyes towards the action, all except for a child who did not understand what was happening and whose boredom caused him to look elsewhere. The boy turned within his father's protective hold and as he saw the strange man up high with a gun, one pudgy finger pointed upwards. Dan caught the movement and saw him open his mouth even before the words, "Look papa!" issued forth from the innocent lad.
Danny tensed his finger on the trigger.
As he heard the boy cry out, a stone heavier than lead, dropped to the pit of McGarrett's stomach and his grip tightened on his own gun. The situation was deteriorating fast and Danny had just been given away.
"You tricked me!" Sally hissed and turning, she fired off a lucky shot over her shoulder in Williams' direction just as a rifle shot resounded and two women screamed.
"Cain, NO!" McGarrett shouted in panic and launching himself from his position tackled her, choosing to subdue her forcibly rather than shoot. The maneuver brought them both to the deck - she shrieking like a hellcat as she lost her grip on her gun, which skittered away from her and Steve wrestling for control of the detonating device.
As he grappled with her, his thoughts were torn between the bomb and Dan Williams, whom he had seen fall from the bridge. He instantly pushed the concern to the back of his mind and focused on subduing the devilish woman beneath him. He would have to worry about his colleague later, for now they were all at risk.
"Enough!" he growled at her after giving an involuntary yell when her sharp nails clawed his face, drawing blood. But she wasn't done yet; her legs kicked him painfully as he held on, trying to reach the cuffs that were tucked into the waistband of his pants. She wriggled and screeched at him, desperately fighting to get to the tempting red button that would end everything in a fireball.
McGarrett did not spare a thought for the lack of help from those around, as a police officer he knew that bystanders, and in particular those in the grip of a terrifying event, were often stunned into inaction. There was no doubt that Cain was strong and her manic movements were fueled by a determination that he found more often in male criminals he had fought. Even though he refused to consciously admit it, his strength was matched by madness and he was struggling to keep her from completing her task. He could do with some help.
From the corner of his eye he noticed a large shape that momentarily blocked out the sun. In a prayer answered, the shape transformed into the welcome sight of Danny Williams and within seconds his partner had control of the woman's flailing legs kneeling down hard and holding them in place with a forearm, allowing him to complete his task and cuff her. McGarrett pulled her - dead weight though she was - to her feet. A shoe had come loose in the struggle and she stood on one foot like a flamingo someone had dressed in mourning clothes, loose bits of hair framing a red and very angry countenance.
"You can't stop me! I refuse to go! You'll be sorry – BOTH OF YOU!" She puffed at the two men. "Get off me! I'll kill you…I'll KILL YOU! Let me die or I'll find you!"
All of a sudden Sally became very calm, as though a switch had just been turned off and she stopped speaking completely, turning instead to stare at Danny Williams and inclining her head on one side as she was accustomed to doing. "Oh, you're bleeding," she smiled at him, white teeth glinting in her lipstick-smeared mouth. Her tongue licked her top lip lasciviously and she purred. In that moment she looked very ugly indeed.
Steve turned to look at his friend. In the rush he hadn't noticed anything unusual about Dan, particularly with the sun at the younger man's back, but now he was able to get a better look he was upset to see how white Williams was and the veritable flood of blood that was streaming down the side of his face and onto his shirt and jacket.
It was the sight of this wound that had so intrigued their prisoner; she was reveling in the fact that she had caused grief and it was as though she had scented his blood. McGarrett felt nauseated by her.
Now that the immediate danger was over, Danny was also allowing himself to take stock of his injuries; not only had the bullet taken more than a reasonable amount of flesh from his cheek as it seared him but the agony in his shoulder also told him that it was either dislocated or broken.
"You okay, Danno?" McGarrett asked as he prepared to move Cain inside to await backup and get the bomb off her. He really needed help with it from Williams, who had far more experience with these things than he did, but wasn't sure whether the younger man was capable of giving practical advice or not, he looked about ready to pass out.
Danny clenched his teeth against the pain and nodded fractionally, he was light-headed and becoming more so, particularly after trying to hold onto a wriggling cat like Cain. "I'm okay, Steve." He reassured and, keeping his arm close against his chest, bent down carefully to pick up her weapon from the deck and secure it. He gasped and stood back up straight again.
"What's wrong with your arm?" Steve asked with concern.
"Dunno." Dan answered honestly, "Just don't touch it." He warned and bent back down again, only more slowly this time.
Just as he did so Sally, seizing an opportunity to inflict one last delicious moment of anguish, pulled Steve back within range of his partner and launched out with her leg. The pointed tip of her one remaining shoe caught Danny's face right on the bullet wound and as she hit him he staggered back trying to regain his balance but it was no use; the lightheadedness, combined with the kick, made him fall and he howled with excruciating pain as his damaged arm hit the decking, sending a shock wave of fire through his entire left side. He almost blacked out but managed to remain conscious purely because he wanted to know if Cain was going to try anything else, in which case he had to back his partner up. However damaged he was.
As Dan tried to get up and failed, Cain began laughing and carried on until she cried, mascara smudging into a fair resemblance of a raccoon as the events caught up with her and both the pleasure and frustration at having her plans thwarted, collided to make her practically hysterical.
Horrified at her cruelty, McGarrett pulled her around and did what he never thought he would do to a woman - he slapped her; not because she was having hysteria but because she hurt Danno and no one did that in his presence and got away with it! His anger was swift and it died just as swiftly, knowing there were people present: adults and children, who were counting on them to put a stop to the day and give them all a chance to breathe again. "Get inside!" He growled at Sally and shoved her in the direction of the bridge. He wanted desperately to see if Danny was all right but had his job to do. The bomb would also have to wait but that was a frightening prospect with such a wily opponent.
As McGarrett dealt with crazy Sally, the remaining crew and passengers began to rally around, laughing and crying as they came back to life. The First Mate and a woman passenger rushed over to Williams and helped him to stand and a rare clean handkerchief was pressed against his wound; most of the others being utilized elsewhere to mop up the aftermath of tears. He staggered slightly but reassured them he was well enough not to be held up, as not just his body would be wounded if they did, but also his pride. In his head he was going over the scene again; wondering what would have happened if he had pulled the trigger a fraction faster but whatever he believed he should, or should not, have done, the fact was that Sally's bullet hit him in the face and he had no chance of ever making the shot. Feeling sick at the thought, he pushed the impending tidal wave of guilt down and instead went to see if his boss needed help.
Inside McGarrett had control over the situation. He was talking to the bomb squad expert on the Coast Guard cutter, getting advice on whether or not they could reasonably leave the bomb in situ before he arrived. He knew that he should diffuse it then and there but with Danny injured he wasn't sure if he could do the job himself and there was no way Danno could with one arm out of action. The radio crackled back at him, the answer came – they would be there within a very short time and so long as they could keep her well away from the detonator, it was best left to someone who knew what they were doing; too many what-ifs to risk it. Steve agreed.
He signed off the radio and turned to look at what he had caught. He was bruised and sported a matching cheek to Danny's that was also bloody from where Sally Cain had scratched him but at least he was alive, as were the others on board. He just regretted that his friend had been injured in the process. All because of this woman.
The She-Devil was sitting with her head on the cabin wall, hands secured behind her back and a gun leveled at her. Steve was taking no chances. Her face was set in a complete mask of hatred and her brown eyes had darkened until the irises practically absorbed the white around them. She had retreated into a shell, the contents of which were hers and hers alone, although it was highly likely that there would be a great deal of interest in finding out just what it contained once she was in prison.
Steve spared no thoughts of pity for her, he had known better dogs euthanized. But he did spare more than a little concern for his partner and wondered how he was.
Danny was sore, the whole of his side was bruising fast from where he fell and his shoulder ached so badly he wanted to be sick. The rocking of the yacht on the swells wasn't helping and he must have looked like some shipwrecked soul, arm hanging limply at his side and bloody compress pressed to his face as he stepped over the hatch door and into the bridge. His nose wrinkled in distaste as he saw the two bodies lying abandoned in the cabin – the Captain had been shot in the chest, the other poor crewman in the head and up until now no one had time to close the eyelids so the corpse was staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Dan shivered; it was just like Officer Kenly whom Cain had killed two days before. When he turned around his eyes locked on hers and he could feel the loathing pouring off her. Unable to release that gaze, it wasn't until he felt a gentle hand on his good arm that he was able to break it.
"Come on, Danno. You need to sit down." Steve McGarrett offered and pulled his officer over to a corner, well away from Sally's mesmeric stare. With others keeping an eye on his prisoner, the Five-0 Chief felt he could spare time to alleviate his concerns, or otherwise, over his friend. As Dan eased himself carefully down onto the foam cushion covered box seat, Steve knelt in front of him, prepared to check out the damage. The injured detective pleaded with him again not to touch his arm and Steve assured him that he would not. Instead he fished around in his jacket pocket for a clean handkerchief and easing Danny's hand away from the wound, he relieved him of the soiled one and replaced it with his. As the air hit the injury, he heard Williams' intake of breath. "That looks nasty, you might need stitches." He offered and Danny looked at him with weary blue eyes.
"Looks like you have your own set of claw marks to remind you." Danny said, the words coming out stiffly as his face began swelling. I missed the shot, sorry Steve. He wanted to add, but didn't.
McGarrett reached up with his fingers and winced as he touched the streaks.
Danny magnanimously proffered him the handkerchief, "Need this?" he asked.
Steve smiled and touched a hand to Dan's uninjured cheek, "No, aikane," he said and reaching down picked Danny's hand up and replaced it carefully against the wound, his voice softening, "You need it more than I do."
Dan nodded and closed his eyes briefly, reminding McGarrett that the bullet wound wasn't the young detective's only injury. His jaw line was also swelling from the kick he had received and his arm was hanging at an odd angle. He wished he could do something to help him but knew that he daren't touch the shoulder; Danny was in need of professional attention.
Luckily it wasn't long before the cutter pulled alongside and the reassuring, if somewhat loud, footsteps of Kono Kalakua could be heard.
"Steve? Danny? You okay bruddahs?" The big Hawaiian officer said with genuine concern as he practically barged onto the bridge.
"We're okay, Kono." McGarrett answered for both of them as Danny was trying to fight pain and couldn't spare the energy.
Kono spotted the two dead sailors and could not help the sickened `Awhue' that came from his lips. More to add to her head count, he thought.
Indicating Cain, McGarrett said with revulsion, "I want you to get her off this boat and we need to make sure everyone gets back safely after we've taken their statements. You'd better get someone to check the engine room just to make sure this thing will stay afloat while we do!" He stood up, looking back at Danny to make sure he was okay and, after receiving a tired nod from his partner, ushered Kono outside to where Chin Ho Kelly and others were reassuring some very frightened and angry people.
He ordered someone to relieve the stressed crew member who was holding the gun on Sally, then clapped Kono on the back and went with him to talk to Chin. "Chin, I need Che and the team out here, I want everything catalogued - every single detail so precisely done that no one can find a loop hole to stop us from nailing that woman. She's going down, gentlemen, this time she's really going down!"
He looked around the yacht trying to spot a much-needed face, "Did Bergman come with you?"
"Here, Steve." A familiar voice answered and with it the even-more familiar face peeled itself out of a small group of passengers who were receiving attention for shock. Doctor Bergman, the medical examiner and physician for the Five-0 team, excused himself from the needy people and promised to be right back as he picked up his bag and walked up to the lead detective, "What do you need, a Band-Aid?" He asked in all seriousness as he studied McGarrett's scratched face.
Steve didn't even deign to answer, "It's Danno, Doc – he's been hurt."
Bergman raised his thickened eyebrows, "What, again?" he asked rhetorically. "Lead me to him."
An HPD officer was watching Cain, the use of a weapon no longer necessary now that professional help had arrived and she was trying to psych the man out as he studiously attempted to avoid her whilst still keeping a watchful eye.
Danny was hunched in a corner, more unconscious than conscious, having partially given in to his injuries now that the adrenaline rush had left his body. He looked up as the doctor approached and gave him a wan smile, "Hey Doc." He said in greeting.
"Young man, I don't know how you manage it…but you do!" he said cryptically and set to work on him.
"Blame Steve, it's his fault." He replied tiredly and winked at McGarrett who was standing behind Bergman with a face that showed all too clearly how worried he was. Steve's frown only deepened, he was too apprehensive for jokes. Strangely Danny found that heartwarming.
"Hmmn…looks nasty. Needs stitches." The middle-aged practitioner pronounced as he pulled the bloodied handkerchief off the wound.
"Ouch! You're the second person to say that." Williams commented after calling out in pain.
Doc went to drop the wadding on the floor but Dan forestalled him, "You can give that back to Steve, it's his."
Bergman turned to McGarrett and exclaimed with a chuckle, "You can stop worrying, he can't be that sick!"
"He hasn't told you about his shoulder yet." The tall Irishman countered.
"Danny?" The doctor inquired seriously, looking like a father asking his son to give up a frog.
Dan grimaced, "It hurts, I think I dislocated it."
Steve added, "He fell off the roof. Correction, he was shot down from the roof!"
Danny's face flushed, causing more blood to leak from his damaged flesh. He knew he should have been faster when the kid called out. If only he hadn't paused…he didn't have much more opportunity to think further than that, as a sharp bolt of agony lanced through him when Bergman tried carefully removing his arm from his suit jacket. He bit his tongue and attempted not to cry out but he couldn't help himself, particularly when the doctor felt inside again to make a field diagnosis and he practically felt the bones grate.
A short distance away, Sally Cain laughed again, a snort that sounded like a pig this time, which was more what she resembled now than the very together, very clever, woman they had encountered when she first came to their attention. She was clearly enjoying Danny's suffering and McGarrett glared at her with daggers in his eyes, torn between wanting to ease his friend's pain and beating her to a pulp.
Tears leaked from Danny's eyes and the jacket stayed.
"Oh, you've definitely broken it. We need to get you back and get this set properly. I don't want to move you any more than I have to." Bergman stood up and put his bag onto a table to prepare a pain-killing injection for his patient, a temporary sling and a wound dressing for his face.
"Broken…that's NOTHING compared to what I'll do with him, or you, McGarrett if I get the chance. Nothing! I hope it hurts like Hell." Sally hissed and spat on the floor.
"Get her out of here, now and make sure the bomb squad deal with her!" Steve ordered, annoyed at himself for not removing her before Doc Bergman attended to Danny.
The HPD Officer made her stand and, as he did so, McGarrett added a warning, "Be careful, she's slippery. I want her guarded so closely you can feel her breath and if she uses her feet tie them up!"
The space happened to be cramped where they had kept her and as she walked around the chart table she came close to where Williams was perched and her eyes darkened even more as she hawked up as much phlegm as she could muster and this time spat in Danny's face.
"OUT NOW, before I do something I may not regret!" Steve shouted angrily at the police officer. His fists were clenched into tight balls of rage and he longed to have a chance to slap the woman again, or worse, which almost frightened him.
Danny was far too exhausted to do anything more, he couldn't even summon up a morsel of effort to clean the goo off his face. He shrugged inwardly, "She doesn't like me very much." He commented as Steve, grabbing some tissues from where he spied them on a shelf, dealt with the aftermath of her wrath by cleaning the muck gently off him.
"Sally Cain doesn't like anyone, Danno. Which is good because when she shows her disdain for the jury they shouldn't have any difficulty in sentencing her to life."
If Bergman was shocked at the woman's behavior he didn't say so. Having seen enough of her handiwork in his morgue during the two short weeks that she had been in Hawaii to last a lifetime, he simply shook his head and carried on preparing an injection.
When Dan felt the needle pierce his skin and the numbing liquid begin entering his vein he decided he had had enough of the day and, with the fading sounds of Sally's mad laughter ringing in his ears, he passed into light unconsciousness that emulated sleep. His last words were, "A least we got her."
It wasn't long before Dan Williams was back at work, albeit for a reduced number of hours each day. He had ambled through the door to the Five-0 offices arm immobilized, face stitched and bandaged but sporting a wonderfully colorful set of contusions that made his normally ruddy and tanned complexion look like the beginnings of dusk over Waikiki. He looked tired from a lack of sleep and where the bruises stopped, the dark circles under his eyes started, giving everyone additional cause for concern. Despite protests from Steve foremostly and Bergman secondly (who gave up far too early in the game for McGarrett's liking), the frustrated 2-I-C was eager to get back into the fray. Desk duty wasn't his favorite way of spending his time but at least it saved him from eating up his living room floor with pacing. His thoughts bothered him.
Steve hovered over him like a protective shadow and Jenny Sherman, Steve's secretary, was ever-attentive. He secretly enjoyed the fact that everyone was concerned about him, even if it did get a little annoying at times. He wasn't THAT hurt but it was good to know that his ohana were eager to help him get through each day. Painkillers helped too.
`Danno, you okay?' Was a familiar question, asked all-too regularly by his boss who was also his mentor, friend and self-appointed big brother (and at the moment more often than not - his cook). His replies of `I'm fine.' weren't always believed and in truth it was sometimes for good reason. Part of why he found it hard to get back into the swing of things and let himself heal faster was the nagging guilt at the back of his mind; that ever-present worry about the fact that Cain was able to get a shot off faster than he was. He thought, but couldn't be certain, that it had to do with her being a woman, which bothered him on many levels. But he wasn't about to admit that to McGarrett. His shortcomings were his alone. In his mind he had hesitated, for whatever reason, and hesitation could cost lives – particularly of those closest to him.
He was plagued by recurring dreams in which he saw Steve, one foot on the locker, gun pointed at Cain and instead of her turning to shoot at him when the child said "Look, Papa!", Sally had fired at McGarrett. He saw his friend die a hundred times: a crimson flower blossoming in the middle of Steve's forehead, just as she had gifted the poor crewman on the yacht. Those dreams or nightmares; call them what he might, would haunt him for a while to come. Perhaps they would last until the cause of so much suffering was finally sentenced and, if there was any justice in the world, put behind bars for the rest of her unnatural life.
And therein lay the difference; Danny Williams was a man with a conscience, sweet Sally Cain – had none.
PAU