Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and no profit, monetary or otherwise, is being made through the writing of this.
A/N: Takes place at a fictional nudist commune, and no, I don't believe that communes or nudist colonies are like this (no offense is intended). Initially intended to be humorous, but the muse took this on a much less humorous tact, and it is full of angst, hurt/comfort.
Warnings: Mentions rape, and violence, but does not go into graphic detail about either. Recovery from the aftermath of rape (which is not described) is not going to be covered in this story; it is alluded to. Rape recovery is, I believe, a lifelong process. I do not wish to make light of rape, or recovery, which is different for everyone.
Undercover at a nudist commune. No wires, unless he'd wanted to swallow one. And, color him paranoid, but...no. There were just too many ways that kind of plan could go south, so to speak.
At first, Danny's surprised to find that not all of the residents of the commune are hippies, or perverts. Not all of them are into drugs, or herbs. Most of them are decent, law abiding citizens who'd simply wanted an out from the current political system, or who'd just wanted a break from the world, or who'd never really fit into the world. Some of them had had a crap life handed to them.
One of them's a former cop, caught a bullet in the back, just one inch to the left of his spine. He's lucky not to be paralyzed. Doesn't want to wear a uniform ever again, or anything even semi constricting, like clothing.
Danny feels a connection to the man, though they've never worked together, and the man's built more like Steve, has an air of military about him. The man's from some Midwest state, came to the Big Island to get away from everything that reminded him of the job, and all that he'd lost - his family, friends, nearly his life - and had happened upon the commune by accident. It had, according to John, been a godsend. Returned his sanity to him.
According to Guru Mark, the leader of the nudist commune, everyone's born into a corrupt world, and the way to be free from it is through living a simpler life, free of the fetters of the world. The only way to get in touch with your true self is to get to know yourself, without the chains of the world, and only when you get to know your true self will you be free of the world's corrupting influence.
Initially, Danny has a hard time equating clothing with fetters, but then he remembers the ties that he'd used to wear to work, and how, now that he's done away with them, he can breathe easier. He thinks maybe, even if the man is a complete kook, he might be onto something. It doesn't hurt that Guru Mark is easy on the eyes, or that, like John, the man reminds Danny of Steve, but in different ways. The hard planes of his body, the way that his muscles ripple when he moves, the blue of his eyes rivaling that of the ocean on a sunny day.
He doesn't learn any of this at first though. Doesn't learn about the others, and John, until after he's been on the commune proper for a couple of weeks. He'd had to go through multiple levels of cleansing first.
There's a break in the work of tending the vegetable garden. Smiling, drawing John's hand up to his mouth, kissing the knuckles, Danny remembers his first days on the commune. Remembers his initial fear and confusion like it was yesterday, and not weeks ago.
Indoctrination into the community involves complete isolation in a poorly constructed hut located at the outskirts of the commune's property. There are a half a dozen such huts - the grass roofs do very little to keep out rain, or dust, and the lack of a true door (Danny does not consider a curtain that blows every which way in the wind to be a door) make Danny feel vulnerable and exposed.
It's very little consolation to him that Steve, Chin, Kono and Lou, along with several other officers, are situated outside of the commune, monitoring everything with fancy equipment. Even though he can't see or hear them, he knows they're there. Just like his team was there when he'd been preparing for this undercover operation.
Still, he feels exposed, and alone, and it's easy to take the hand that's offered him when Guru Mark comes into his hut and summons him to the first grand event of his stay at the commune. The hand is strong, and calloused, and Danny's fits into it like its always fit into Steve's.
The second night of isolation, there's a ceremonial burning for all of those who want to join the commune: Danny, some man named Lucas who looks like life's beat the hell out of him, and then some, and a woman named Julie, whose arms look like they've been caught in a barbed wire fence; Danny knows better, though. Understands what those scars mean. His heart aches for her. For Lucas. For the others at the commune who, like these two, have been handed the shitty side of the stick in life.
Danny knows that he must look like hell, too. He'd spent the past three weeks prepping for this job, living on the streets of Waikiki, without backup. He hasn't shaved, or washed, or eaten a decent meal in all that time. He'd drunk water from puddles, and spent what little money he had on booze. Dug through trash when his stomach felt like it was trying to eat itself, he was so hungry. Took handouts, stole food from unattended plates.
He'd slept in alleys, or in beach pavilions, wandered the streets and beaches during the day. Had worn holes in the soles of his shoes. His clothes stunk, and were stained with sweat, blood, and other sticky, smelly substances that Danny did not even want to think about.
His clothes no longer fit, and he's truly tired of the dirt and grit, the constant feeling of being dirty, and worthless. He hadn't expected the looks of disgust from tourists and locals to get to him as much as they had. Hadn't expected their harsh words to actually hurt. Hadn't anticipated the attack from a group of four youths that had occurred a few days before his scheduled flight to the Big Island.
They'd attacked him from behind, while he'd been rummaging through a dumpster for something to eat. He hadn't know what hit him at first, felt the blow of a fist in the small of his back, and then his feet had been swept out from under him, and he'd hit his head on the lip of the dumpster. Blood gushed from the resultant gash in his forehead, stained the sleeve of his shirt when he'd tried to keep it from running into his eyes.
The attack was over almost as soon as it started. A waitress had slipped out the backdoor of one of the restaurants for a smoke, and had called the cops. The boys who'd attacked Danny delivered a few more kicks and punches, before scattering, and running in different directions, leaving Danny curled on his side in a putrid puddle of garbage infested water, clutching his ribs. The waitress hadn't approached him at all, but had shouted encouragements at him and stayed outside until the police arrived.
It was fortunate, really, in that it made Danny look desperate, and in need of what the commune promised - a new life, hope, unconditional love, and freedom to be whomever and whatever he wanted to be, without the fear of being judged or attacked.
Steve, when he found out what had happened to Danny, had been livid, and promised to find the boys, who were still at large, and bring them to justice.
Danny doubted that would happen. The boys had worn hoods. He hadn't been able to identify a single one of them, but the officer who'd been sent to the scene of the crime had recognized Danny, and had called Five-0, in spite of Danny's protests.
In addition to the mild head injury, which had still bled like a son of a bitch, Danny had gleaned a busted lip, black eye, and a cracked rib from the beating. Danny had refused to go to the hospital, though, because he'd be damned if those kids were going to cost them their only way into the damn commune.
He wasn't going to start this all up again, and no, Steven, or Chin, or Kono, or Lou, wasn't going to take his place. His injuries weren't life threatening, and so what if he'd lost some weight, he'd gain it back once this was over. Until then, he was going to continue to live on the street, stealing money from tourists so that he could buy booze, or coffee, or a small meal from one of the fast food places.
His backstory - a down on his luck mainlander who'd moved from the east coast to Hawaii after losing his family in a house fire, in search of a better life only to have the job opportunity he'd been promised, fall through - isn't much, but it's not questioned either when he tells it.
Danny tells a little about his time on the streets. How, even among the homeless of Waikiki, he hadn't fit in. How he'd been beaten and left for dead, and how he'd been offered a one way ticket to the Big Island from a representative of the commune, and, desperate, had taken it, expecting to be killed, or worse, when he arrived.
It was what the lone survivor of the serial killer and rapist that Five-0 had been on the trail of for the past several months, had told them when he'd regained consciousness. It had been touch and go for several days. He'd almost died.
He couldn't remember much about the attack, or the man who'd raped and then attempted to kill him, but he remembered being approached by a representative of the commune, offered a ticket to the Big Island, and the promise of a better life in paradise, the way it was intended to be. He'd been desperate, had been teetering on the verge of suicide, and the commune had delivered on its promises.
One of the men, there, though, and it was all muddled up in his mind - he'd been drugged, raped, beaten almost to death - had not been what he'd seemed. He couldn't remember the man's face, just that he'd had eyes that were so grey they were almost silver, and that he'd had a jagged scar that either ran from his chest to the bottom of his rib cage, or maybe it ran from temple to chin, or maybe the scar went across his inner thigh straight to his groin. Paul hadn't been certain. He knew, without a doubt, though, that the man's voice was deep and scratchy, as though it had been damaged by the smoke of a fire.
If their killer stuck to pattern, and hadn't realized that Paul had survived his attack, he'd kill a woman next. He seemed to prefer blonde hair and blue eyes, and those who were about Danny's height, which is why Danny had offered to go undercover to stop the psycho who'd already killed six people, and would probably kill a seventh before Danny could get into place in the commune.
Danny closes his eyes, and focuses on the here and now. On what he needs to do next. On the fact that Guru Mark is standing so close that he can hear, and feel the man's breath on his skin. It make him shiver.
Guru Mark nods in sympathy when Danny haltingly finishes the telling of his story (the cracked rib is causing him a little more trouble than he'd thought it would, and it hurts to breathe, but Danny isn't going to let that keep him from doing his job). He takes a shaky breath, and offers the small crowd that's gathered around the bonfire, a shaky smile. Julie reaches over, squeezes his hand, and gives him a shy smile, then ducks her head.
Guru Mark's hand is warm and comforting on Danny's skin, and the way he squeezes Danny's arm in understanding makes tears rush to Danny's eyes. Danny blames his weakness on three weeks of sleep deprivation, rather than on the depth of concern he can see in the Guru's eyes, and how tight Julie's grip is on his other hand, as though she, in her own fragility, is trying to lend him some strength from her own limited reserves.
His jaw clenches, and he reminds himself that he's doing this to bring down a bad guy who preys on people like Lucas and Julie. A man who uses the commune as a place to hide his depraved acts, rather than to escape from a bad life.
It's harder than he'd thought it would be for Danny to burn all of his earthly possessions. He'd only been down on his luck, Danny Mitchell, for three weeks, and had come to the commune with only the clothing on his back, and a wallet with a fake ID, a half a dozen bills of assorted denomination, and a handful of water damaged photographs that featured a family that wasn't his own. There's no reason for his breath to hitch, or the tears to fall down into the scruffy beard that he wishes he could shave off and burn as well.
Julie squeezes his hand hard, and Guru Mark kisses him on the cheek, and Danny's head spins. The lips are warm and soft, and Danny misses Steve so much right now that he thinks that maybe he's going through withdrawal, and that's why he leans into Guru Mark's touch, and his fingers tingle where Julie's clutching at them.
He's naked and trembling, and it's hard to resist when he's pulled back to his isolation hut, and Guru Mark, along with the aid of several other commune members, clean Danny by the flickering light of several candles.
There's a brass tub filled with warm, bubbly water that smells like lavender, and he tenses at first, but he wants so desperately to be clean, and he reminds himself that he's undercover, and can't blow his cover now, just because it feels strange to have someone else's hands, other than Steve's, on him.
Their touches are gentle, and almost clinical in nature, and Danny finally relaxes, enjoys being clean, and shaved. His skin tingles when its over, and he's being welcomed with the aloha kiss by so many people that he loses track of how many by the time they leave, taking the tub with them to tend to Julie and Lucas.
"Drink one of these each day for cleansing," one of the members of the commune says. "They will remove all of the toxins from your body, and free you from the impurities of the world that you've left behind."
She leaves four jars filled with an amber colored liquid on a rough wooden ledge, and kisses Danny on the cheek, whispers, "Aloha," into his ear, and then steps out of the hut. The not-door billows in the wind, and Danny eyes the jars skeptically, but he grabs the first one, and grimacing, twists off the top, and gulps it down.
It doesn't taste as bad as he thought it would. It's some kind of herbal drink. Tastes a little like the grass shots that Steve sometimes makes him drink, and mint.
There are four bottles of water on another ledge, and there's a cot along one of the walls, a makeshift toilet in one corner - a hole in the floor and a raised up wooden platform with a plastic toilet seat for Danny to use - with several rolls of one-ply toilet paper lined up beside it.
He'll be undergoing a cleansing fast for the next three days. After that, there will be another cleansing ceremony, and he'll be welcomed into the community, and assigned a community hut, and a role within the community.
The next three days are a blur of mind-numbing stomach cramps, headaches, cold sweats, and Danny shits and pisses so much that he thinks he's going to become little more than a walking pile of skin and bones. He's left alone for the most part, though Guru Mark comes and talks to him for an hour, maybe more, each day, sharing the philosophies of the commune with him, and asking Danny questions that dig deeper than anything that he'd prepared for when he, with the help of his team, had come up with Danny Mitchell's backstory.
The man touches him as well. Nothing overt. Just a light brushing of fingers on Danny's overheated skin as he touches on a point, or a light squeeze of the arm, or hand, as he asks a deep, soul searching question that makes Danny's insides quiver, and makes him feel uncertain about, not only this Danny Mitchell that he'd created, but about himself, and his own direction in life. Where he's come from as a displaced Jersey cop, a member of Five-0, a divorced man, father of two, and now lover of Steve.
He sobs when he talks of his deceased brother, not meaning to bring it up at all, and Guru Mark holds him, strokes his back, presses a kiss to his temple, his forehead, his cheek, his lips. And there's nothing even remotely sexual about any of it. It's comfort and reward for Danny's honesty, for his willingness to share his innermost pain, and receive cleansing and healing in return.
Danny shares more than he intends to of his fears and personal failures, but Guru Mark doesn't judge him for them. He listens, doesn't pull away from Danny when he reaches out for him in a moment of weakness, and steals a kiss that isn't about healing. Guru Mark stops Danny before it can become something more. Stops Danny from becoming a cheating bastard for a second time in his life.
He misses Steve. Wants to go home and make love to the man. Wants to feel Steve's hands, and lips on his heated skin. Wants to feel Steve's body, muscles taut, hard against his own. Wants to find their man and book him, so that he can go home and lie with Steve.
All of that was weeks ago, though, and Danny's no closer to figuring out who they're looking for. None of the men match the description that Paul had given them.
Not that it was much to go on, but no one has long, jagged scars that Danny can see. Other than the kinds of scars that Julie and John bear, there are very few distinguishing marks on anyone at the commune. There are plenty of people who bear the types of scars that Julie does, dug into skin out of desperation to feel something other than a deep, soul-rending emotional pain that seems unending.
None of the voices match either, though some of the members don't speak at all. Self-invoked vows of silence, Guru Mark assures Danny.
There are no men with grey-silver eyes, either, and when Danny can get away, leave the commune under the cover of darkness, and stars, he does, meets with the team of men and women who are supposed to have his back.
The meeting is short, and to the point. Danny shares what he's learned, which is not much, and he shies away from the blanket that someone tries to drape over his shoulders in an attempt to cover his nudity. He's comfortable in his nakedness, and shakes his head at those who avert their eyes. Steve, Chin, Kono, and Lou don't look away from him, though, and that's good. Makes Danny feel safe, and like maybe, once this is all over, and he can reclaim his life, he'll be able to.
Paul's revised his description of his attacker. There is no scar. The eyes are blue, not grayish silver, and the voice is more gravelly than smoke damaged. The man walks with some kind of limp, and is as tall as, or maybe taller than Steve.
It's still not a lot to go on, but three men from the commune come immediately to mind. Danny's saddened to hear that, as predicted, a young woman was found, brutalized and murdered, body left in the shallows of a beach not far from the commune, like the others, a week ago.
Danny doesn't remember meeting her. Clarice. Young. Blonde. Blue eyes that are now clouded over in death. None of what Steve tells him about the girl rings a bell.
"Danny." Steve catches him by the wrist, keeps Danny from returning to the commune.
Danny's skin itches, and his chest feels tight, but if he doesn't leave now, it will be impossible for him to return to the commune. Impossible for him to let John, and Guru Mark, or any of the others, touch him in any way.
"Steve, I...I can't," Danny says, voice hoarse, heart thundering. "I..." he blinks, takes a deep breath, because no matter what, he's got to tell Steve about the touches, the less than chaste kissing. He doesn't want it, but he doesn't stop it, because he can't, not if he wants to keep his cover, and bring down a psychotic serial killer.
"I know, Danny," Steve says, fingers digging into Danny's wrist, but not hard enough to bruise, just hard enough to communicate love and support, and understanding. "It's okay. You do what you have to do, okay, Danno? Come back to me safe, and alive, and -"
Danny cuts Steve off with a kiss, not caring about the audience that they've got, most of them are looking away from his nudity anyway, too ashamed of their own bodies to look on the nakedness of another.
"I love you, babe," Danny whispers against Steve's lips, forehead resting against Steve's.
"Love you, too, D." Steve presses another kiss to Danny's lips, pulls away, and with a look of longing, lets Danny walk away to finish the undercover op.
A few days later, Danny thinks that he's got a lead on their killer, though it pains him, and he's only coming to that conclusion, because other than John, and Guru Mark, and himself, there is no one other man with blue eyes who isn't new to the commune, and outside of John, none of them have a noticeable limp. It's hard to reconcile the former cop with the serial rapist/killer that Five-0 has been tracking, especially with the gentle way in which he touches Danny, and the sometimes heated kisses that they share.
The commune is open with touch. Open with sexuality. And, at first, Danny had balked at it, had turned away, blushing when he'd spotted couples engaged in varying degrees of intimate acts out in the open - beneath a shade tree, in the middle of the vegetable garden, in one of the many hammocks that were strewn around the commune - but now he's grown used to it, and, though he rebuffs his fellow asylum seekers' passes at him, he doesn't turn away in embarrassment when he sees a couple engaged in coitous, or happens upon a sexual orgy. He doesn't openly engage in watching either, though he knows that no one would judge him if he did. More likely, he'd get an invite.
It's hard not to follow Guru Mark in past the curtain that blows inward with the wind when the man invites Danny into his hut a few days after Danny's almost one hundred percent certain that John is the killer - he keeps an eye on the other blonde males at the commune, and is only mildly relieved when he doesn't see John giving any of the men any special attention.
It's hard to resist the pull that Mark Guru has on him, but Danny closes his eyes, pictures Steve when they're making love - eyes so dark with passion that they're almost black, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent O - and it's easier not to follow, easier to leave what he and the dynamic man have at stolen kisses and touches that border on the intimate, but never pass that invisible line.
Danny knows that he's going to have to go to Steve, and the others, with his suspicions, but he's not one hundred percent sure that it's John, yet, and he doesn't want to be wrong. Not about something as important as this. If he blows this op, there's no way that they can get another person inside the commune, and the killer will probably be spooked, and move on to other hunting grounds.
His suspicions are confirmed a day or two later, and in a manner which would be horrifying if Danny could remember any of it clearly. Danny's mind is fuzzy on the details, because, the day, or maybe two days, after he'd chosen not to follow Mark Guru into his hut, the same woman who'd provided Danny with the cleansing drinks during his initiation, gives him some tea, along with a kind, almost motherly smile, and urges him to drink it.
He does, and a few minutes, or maybe hours, later, Danny is plunged into a nightmare of darkness, and voices without faces. There's pain, and someone's screaming - Danny remembers that, though he doesn't know if it was he, or someone else, who was screaming - and there are hands, and teeth, and lips, and eyes so blue that it hurts Danny to look into them, and the earth is hard beneath him, though it spins, and his mind can't seem to latch onto anything with any clarity until much, much later when he's waking after what feels like months of being asleep.
Hard earth is replaced by something that's warm and giving, and wholly familiar. Something with a heartbeat, and arms that wrap tightly around him, and a voice that has a face, though Danny can't see it right now.
"Steve?" Danny's throat hurts, and his body aches, and, though Steve's body is solid and strong, and warm beneath his, Danny's head spins with dizziness, and a muzzy fear, because though he doesn't remember what happened after drinking the tea, he knows - in the same way that he knew that he was going to marry Rachel, and that he was falling for Steve - that he was raped. It's an ache that is marrow deep. Danny just hopes that Steve didn't have to witness the act.
"Easy, Danno, I've got you," Steve says, shifting so that Danny can see his face, and know with absolute certainty that it's over. It amazes Danny that, even after weeks of being denied this kind of intimacy, Steve is still able to read his mind.
"We got them," Steve assures Danny, pressing a kiss to his temple.
Danny closes his eyes, breathes in the scent of salt and ocean and gunpowder that is Steve, and swallows. "Them?"
"John Phillips, Mark Johnson, and a woman named Ruby Tilbert," Steve says. "They were in on it together. Moved to the Big Island, and set up their commune about a year and a half ago, apparently they've been doing this for at least a decade. They changed their MO every couple of months, and, up until this year, they've been getting away with everything. In some places they would leave their victims alive, others, they would kill them."
It's too much to take in, and Danny shudders, bites his lip, and holds onto Steve's arm like the lifeline that it is. It's crazy, and Danny doesn't even want to think about all of the men and women these people have killed over the past decade. He doubts that anyone will ever find out, with any amount of certainty, how many people were killed by them.
"I'm sorry," Steve says, breath a warmth that spreads out across Danny's neck, and down along his spine.
Danny nods, and smiles when Steve's lips brush the back of his neck. "Not your fault," Danny says, squeezing Steve's arm. "I-I'll be okay."
"It's okay if you're not okay," Steve says. "No one...that is, I, don't expect you to bounce back from this as though nothing happened. God, Danny, I wanted to kill them. I still want to kill them."
There's raw emotion there, and in spite of the heaviness of the situation, Danny smiles, and kisses Steve's hand where it rests on Danny's chest. "Let me guess, babe, Chin wouldn't let you?"
Steve takes a deep breath, tightens his grip on Danny, and clears his throat. "Actually, our backup had to hold all of us back. If they hadn't, we'd have killed those sons of bitches."
It's a lot of Danny to take in, and for a moment or two, it's all he can do to keep breathing as the room spins. "That bad, huh?" Danny asks when the room finally stops spinning and he can breathe again.
"They're monsters," Steve says, kissing Danny's shoulder. "We got there as soon as we could, but..."
"It's okay, Steve," Danny says, patting Steve's arm awkwardly, ignoring the burn of tears in his eyes. "It's not your fault. I had my suspicions, I just, I didn't, I wanted to be sure."
"It's not your fault either, Danny," Steve is quick to tamp down on Danny's self-recrimination before it gets too far. "What happened is not your fault."
"It's not anyone's fault." Lou's voice startles Danny, and Steve, but both men relax when the man clears his throat, and sits down in one of the empty chairs. "Those sorry excuses for human beings are being escorted off island as we speak. They're going to be tried in Texas."
"With any luck, they'll get the death penalty," Chin says from a corner of the room where he's leaning with his arms crossed. Danny's more than a little concerned by the dark circles that he sees underneath the other man's eyes, and the tight lines around his mouth.
"Or someone will take them out before they even reach Texas," Kono adds with a shrug, and the unsettling smile of a shark. She's sitting in another chair, and Danny wonders just how out of it he was and for how long, to not have noticed the rest of his team in the room.
"Uh..." Danny's overcome with emotion, and he sighs when Steve shifts them yet again, so that he can kiss Danny's cheek, his forehead, his lips.
When the kiss is deepened, it is accompanied with the sound of clearing throats, and shuffling feet, and when it's over, Danny senses that he and Steve have been left alone in the room.
"You can relax," Steve says. "Kono doesn't have the clearance to any military grade missiles."
And Steve's words do what they're supposed to. Danny laughs. He's got tears in his eyes, and a knot in his stomach, and he's not fine, and won't be for a long while yet, but he will be better. He will work his way through everything, but he won't be alone, and that, more than anything else, is what helps Danny to dwell, not on what happened to him (most of which he cannot remember with any clarity) but on the feel of Steve's body, his arms wrapped around him, and of the steady beat of Steve's heart.