Disclaimer; I own nothing but the plot.
I just recently introduced a friend to H50, so we spent the weekend literally watching it back to back. We decided that they handled the after effects of Kono's undercover story terribly – in fact the didn't handle it at all! So we got talking, had a little play, and this was born. We're still working on it, but we hope to update daily!
(We couldn't remember some minor details, for example; how long Kono was gone for, so if there are some minor blips, please excuse them!)
Please read and review!
The Other Side
(1)
'Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity
with someone who has ceased to communicate'
- Germaine Greer
Steve runs a calloused hand over his face, paces back and forth in front of her, his muscles tense and veins throbbing in his temples. She doesn't look at him, tries not to collapse under the weight of his glare, keeps her focus on the chip in the cement block two rows up from the floor. This room is familiar – she's been in here more times than she can count – but she's never been sat on this chair, never been in this position, never been on the receiving end of McGarrett's explosive anger, and to be quite frank, it scares the living crap out of her. She tastes blood in her mouth where she bites her tongue because she wants to shout, to scream, to tell him it's not what it looks like, that he should know her well enough by now, know that she's not capable of what he's saying – murder! – wants to tell him to call IA, get Fryer down here to explain everything away. But she can't. She's here, with McGarrett, and she's never felt so alone, so detached, so ashamed.
"What are you thinking, Kono?! What happened to you?!" He yells, his words cutting through her resolve. She slips up, looks into those familiar blue eyes, sees nothing but accusation and anger. She squirms, tosses and turns, tries to escape the intensity of his stare. "What happened to you?!" He shouts, again, his voice reverberating off frigid, grey walls. The metal chair shifts below, ice against burning skin. "What happened to you?" He hisses, cold and vicious, chills her to the bone. She opens her mouth, because she wants to tell him that it's okay, she's one of them, she's good, but there are no words, no sound. She fights against the painfully tight cuffs that shackle her to the chair, feels skin tear and bruise. "What happened to you?!" He screams, pierces through to her soul, as he picks up his chair and throws it at her. She closes her eyes, screams, waits for the impact.
Kono bolts upright, her own screams waking her, drenched in a cold sweat and twisted up in her thin bedsheets. Her heart hammers, chest threatens to cave in, breaths come in short, fast pants as she gasps for air. It's not until she kicks free from the fabric restraints that she begins to calm her frantic mind and dull the overwhelming sense of panic. She forces her breathing to slow, forces large lungfuls of air into her, reminds herself that she's okay, she got out, she's safe. Realisation hits her hard; the under cover operation has taken more from her than she cares to admit, has instilled new fears deep within, planted demons she fights to hide. When her heart rate has slowed to within normal range, and she's no longer borderline anxiety attack, she recognises the metallic taste on her tongue as blood, feels it's swollen and realises she must have bitten it in her sleep, reaches over for the glass of water on her night stand, gets a quick glance at the time; 5:07am. She can tell by the darkness in the room and the gap in the curtains that the sun hasn't touched the horizon yet. Swallows against the rising bile as she recalls it's her first official day back at Five-0 today, isn't entirely sure she's ready.
Her arm burns as sweat seeps through the bandages, elicits a hiss as she tries to pull the damp, limp fabric away from the wound. The bullet had grazed her, barely brushed against muscle, but she wasn't afraid to admit it hurt like Hell. And whilst in GSW terms it was only a 'graze', it still involved a bullet scraping through flesh at several hundred miles per hour, and it had taken twenty stitches to close the tear it had left in its wake. She yanks the material free, doesn't like the look of the discharge or yellow staining the gauze. She winces as she presses against the red, swollen skin; it's hot and painful, a sure sign infection is settling in. She bites down on her bottom lip as she moves into the bathroom, rinses the wound with some warm water, applies the antibiotic cream the ER doctor had prescribed as a precaution, and redresses it with fresh, sterile dressings.
Kono longs to get back into the water. During her time off, she was able to surf for as long as she wished, quickly settled into the habit of getting up and disappearing into the ocean for the first couple hours of each day. But being waist deep would never be enough, never offer enough of a reprieve, so she opts to go for a run instead, eager to get adrenaline pumping, to pound the streets and try to forget who she is and what she's done.
She runs until the dark sky turns a magnificent mixture of pink and orange, then heads back home, gets there just as the typical blue begins to push back the warm hues of the sunrise.
She showers – an art that will take practise if she's going to keep the top of her arm dry – then spends far too long picking out an outfit. She settles for a simple tank top and jeans, her flat, practical boots and opts to tie her hair up. She doesn't have a gun to holster or a badge to clip on to her belt, and the butterflies in her tummy turn into a swirling pit of nausea. She locks the front door, gets into her car and sits there. Her body is heavy, and she's sure her vision is blurring. She puts the keys into the ignition and listens as her car fires up, ready to take her to work, like any other day, just like before. But it's nothing like before; Kono lost her badge, lost her Ohana, was forced to grow up and change whilst she was away from the people and job she loved. The panic threatens to creep over her again, hairs stand on end and goosebumps quickly cover her body. She pulls her phone from her pocket, sends a quick message to Steve – tells him she's sick, has food poisoning or something, that she wont be in today – and then turns the ignition off, opens the car door, and heads back inside.
Kono spends the day on the couch, and whilst her eyes are closed and her breathing shallow, she doesn't sleep. Memories plague her; being cuffed by the new girl, her replacement; her 'Ohana' pulling guns on her; being thrown into interrogation like a common criminal; having accusations yelled at her by one of the people she thought she could count on, the guy that was supposed to know her, to support and guide her, to believe in her. She doesn't toss and turn, doesn't move to eat or drink, lets her body go numb and stiff, waits in hope that if she stays there long enough, the pain will eventually fade and she'll start to go back to being her old self.
The sudden knocking on the front door startles her, her heart hammers with each tap on wood, and she sits up quickly, hisses when the stitches in her arm pull. It takes a long moment for her to remember that it's okay, that she's gone straight, that no more bent cops are going to be shadowing her doorstep again.
The living room is dark, the sun long below the horizon, telling Kono she's been on the couch for at least fourteen hours. Her stomach grumbles, her mouth is dry, her tongue still swollen and sore as it sticks to the roof of her mouth, desperate for lubrication. She waits, hopes her visitor will eventually give up, get tired of knocking and leave without any intention of returning, but all hopes are dashed when they're still there, doing bursts of tapping, five minutes later. Kono suspects it's her cousin, Chin Ho Kelly, checking up on her again, because he's taken it upon himself to drop by her place every evening after work, just to make sure she hasn't had a mental breakdown, or something. Her chest fills with warmth as she thinks of the man she never lost faith in, not even when he was accused of a crime he didn't commit, and then is quickly punched by guilt as she remembers pushing him away, despite his endless attempts at reaching out to her, his persistent loyalty towards her. She gets up from her spot on the couch, unravels blankets wrapped around her legs, stretches out sore muscles before heading to the door, flicking on the light as she goes.
Kono cracks open the door just enough to peer through the gap to see who's on her porch. She can barely make out the familiar, combed back hair, the shirt and the tie in the darkness.
"Danny?" She asks, her voice hoarse from dehydration, as she yanks the door open so she can get a better look at the Detective. "Hi." When she can confirm that's exactly who it is, that her eyes aren't deceiving her.
"Hi, Kono." He greets. "Uh, Chin gave me your address so I could swing by." He points over his shoulder, as if Chin's waiting for him, but Kono can only see the empty Camaro parked under the street light. "Hope that's okay."
"Right, sure." Kono nods, a little surprised at the random visit. She tries to remember the last time she saw Danny and images flash through her mind of him standing there, his gun pointing at her, the pain twisting his face as she gets cuffed...she blinks, forces those memories back.
"How are you?" He asks, points to the bandage wound tightly around Kono's arm.
"Fine." She replies too quickly. "Better." She adds when he rolls his eyes at her typical answer. He reaches up to rub at his ear and scratch at his cheek, glances back over his shoulder.
"So, uh, can I come in?" He sounds hesitant, as if he's unsure if he's crossing the line, and Kono mentally kicks herself for not already inviting him.
"Yeah, of course, sorry." She rushes, stepping aside to let him past. "Can I get you something? Coffee? Beer?" She offers, the thought of liquids taunting her dry throat, involuntarily swallows. She watches as Danny's eye cast around her small, untidy living room, stop on the tangle of blankets on the couch, and then settle back on her.
"I'm good, thanks babe. I can't stop, I've got to pick Grace up for parent's evening."
"Oh, okay." Kono nods, pulls just the one water bottle from the fridge, tears the cap off and downs at least half. Shrugs sheepishly when Danny gives her a questioning look.
"We missed you at work today." Danny starts, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Are you okay?" Kono is knocked by the concern in the blonde's eyes, is forced to remember seeing that look before; when he was driving her to the ER after the bank fiasco, when he sat with her for four hours straight, waiting for the doctor to tend to her, offering nothing more than silence so she could drift in and out of sleep, when he dropped her back home, and refused to leave until he saw she'd closed the front door, was safely locked inside. Kono clears the emotion from her throat before replying.
"Right, yeah. I had this...thing; sickness bug, or food poisoning, or something. I don't know." She shakes her head, can't keep eye contact as she lies, wonders how the Hell she pulled off being undercover for six months without being called out. She waits for Danny to do exactly that, call her out, but he doesn't, seems to let it slip.
"Yeah, Steve said you were sick." He nods, and Kono notices how his hands stay shoved deep in pockets, unmoving. "Feeling better now?"
"Yeah, I guess." Kono says, looking down at her bare feet and pulling at the frayed hem of her denim shorts.
"It's okay if you're not, you know, okay." Danny stumbles over his words, pulls a hand from his pocket and leaves it hovering in front of him.
"I am." Kono insists, forces a smile that she knows doesn't reach her eyes, but hopes he doesn't notice anyway.
"I mean, I didn't go to work for a whole fortnight after my first undercover operation. And I didn't even get shot." Danny continues anyway, his hand waving between them.
"Really?" Kono's eyebrows shoot up, finds it hard to imagine Danny rattled after a case, that he could ever feel anywhere near what she's been feeling. But then she can't imagine he was thrown into a small room and shouted at by someone you thought was your friend.
"Really." He confirms, his face serious. "It took me a while to find myself again. It's hard, Kono. Especially when it takes everything you are and twists it into everything you're not."
"I'm just...I'm having trouble getting past it, you know? I keep closing my eyes, and it's all I can see..." She trails off, her voice catching in her throat, her eyes tearing up, because it's the first time she's spoken about it to anyone.
"It's absolutely normal." Danny promises, takes Kono's hand in his own and gives a reassuring squeeze. "I had nightmares for months, but it does get easier."
"Everyone believe it, Danny. Every one thought I'd gone dirty. Chin, Steve..." Kono chokes, takes a deep breath. "I was so alone." barely above a whisper.
"Shit, I'm so sorry, Kono. That's partly my fault. I am so, so sorry." Danny apologises quickly, drops her hand to rub his own over his face. "I was such a shitty friend..."
"Danny, stop, you don't need to apologise." Kono cuts him short, doesn't need to hear how bad he feels, because deep down, Kono knows he's good, knows he would have been there if she'd allowed, because she'd received the texts, the few missed calls, she just hadn't returned them. She can't blame him for stopping after a while – she would have too.
"I do." Danny interrupts her, too. "We're family, I should have been there for you. I should have done better for you."
"It's not your fault, Danny. Fryer..."
"Fryer took the piss and used your naivety against you. He knew you were fresh out of the academy and that you'd do anything to protect our team." Danny fumes, before taking a deep breath to calm himself – something Kono isn't used to him doing. "Look, I know that you agreed to the op to protect us, Kono, and for that I am entirely grateful to you. Just please, please, promise me you won't do that again, not without actually consulting the rest of us." Kono nods, because the desperation in Danny's eye is almost painful to see, almost as if the guilt of leaving her to save him is torturing his soul. "I'm here for you, okay?" He breathes. "Any time, day or night. If you ever need someone, I'm great at talking. Listening, too, but mainly talking; I have some brilliant Jersey tales I could distract you with."
"Thank, Danny." Kono smiles, this time a genuine one that reaches her face and lightens her shoulders, as a tear rolls down her cheek. She huffs out a breath that sounds half way between a sob and a laugh, relief washing over her because that's all she's needed; for her Ohana to prove that they're there for her, they hadn't forgotten her, they care for her.
"Come here, you big Goof." Danny grins, holds his arms open for Kono to fall into them, the embrace easy and comfortable as she wraps her arms around him, holds tight, inhales the familiar scent of Armani Code.
"I'm sorry about Rachel." Kono speaks into his shoulder, feels Danny tense and then relax before he releases her and she steps back again. "Chin told me last night."
"Yeah, well." Danny shrugs, this time his turn to force his lips to turn upwards. "It didn't work the first time, right? Who's to say this time would have been any different?"
"Still blows." Kono shrugs, winces when they stitches pull again – she really must try to remember she got shot last week.
"So does getting capped." Danny nods towards the bandage, when red begins to seep through the stark white material. "I'd know."
"Yeah." Kono chuckles at that, wipes the tears from her face. "Smarts a little."
"Ha! You should partner up with McGarrett. You'd soon get used to it." Danny only half jokes as he checks the time on his watch. "Sorry kid, but I've got to go, Grace will be waiting."
"Give her a hug from me." Kono requests, because Grace is family, and is one of the people her heart ached for during the darkest of times.
"You can give her one yourself on Saturday. I need some more surfing lessons." Danny says as he pulls open the front door and steps back onto the porch.
"I'd love to, Danny, but I can't get this baby wet." She shrugs her injured arm carefully.
"Lame excuse, Kalakaua. You know I'm nowhere near ready for the real waves." He winks, laughs softly and Kono can't help but join in.
"Fine." She smiles. "Maybe we'll make it to the water by Christmas, huh?"
"Don't push it." Danny shakes his head before sobering. "We're good?"
"Yeah, we're good." Kono nods, is honest, feels it soul deep. "Thanks for swinging by, I'm glad you did. Now get out of here! You'll be late, and you should never keep a lady waiting!"
"See ya, then." He waves, before turning and hopping down the wooden steps.
"Yeah, later, Brah." Kono calls after him, watches as he hops into the drivers seat of his Camaro (for a change) and speeds off.
She feels different. Lighter. Maybe tonight, the nightmares wont be so bad.