AN: Dedicated to a dear friend - my kaikua'ana...

Disclaimer: All creative rights to the characters from "Hawaii Five-O" belong to their original creators. Only the plots and fanon which includes characters that I created belong to me. No profit is gained writing this story.

Darkness Be My Friend

(*Edited by the talented "Book 'em Again")

The black Mercury cruised down the deserted back streets toward the docks. Though the lateness of the hour gave the driver a foreboding feeling, but he was not going to let darkness intimidate him. Steve McGarrett parked the big Ford LTD beside a warehouse by the pier. He peered through his windscreen, his keen eyes searched for the man he came to meet. Not a shadow moved. Sighing, the detective exited the vehicle. A noise from within the ramshackled building caught his attention. He reached inside his navy blue sports jacket and rested his fingers around the hand grip of his .38 service revolver. Slowly, he walked toward the entrance of the warehouse and squinted through the double doors that stood ajar.

"McGarrett? Is that you, McGarrett?" The nervous voice of Charlie Fisher echoed off the walls of the warehouse interior.

"Yeah, Charlie, it's me. Come on out where I can see you," McGarrett called back then stepped away from the warehouse.

Several seconds ticked by before the scrawny figure of Charlie Fisher appeared. Slinking out from the shadows, Charlie stood by the warehouse door with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"What did you have to tell me that was so urgent?" the head of Five-O demanded.

"There's something you have to see. It's in here," Charlie jerked his head toward the building behind him. The light of the moon reflected off his greasy thinning hair that was plastered across the top of his head.

"What is it you wanted to show me?" Steve questioned. Something about Charlie's mannerisms didn't sit right with the big cop.

"I found something. Something that will put those Murphy brothers behind bars for good, but you have to hurry!" Charlie exclaimed then without waiting for Steve to reply, he slipped back inside the warehouse.

"Wait!" Steve called out. What could Charlie have found? If he followed him, would he be walking into a trap? Had Charlie been paid off? The sound of something heavy crashing on to the ground from inside the building broke his thoughts. "Charlie!" No answer. "Charlie!" He tried again.

"I'm okay! Can you give me a hand? I'm in a bit of a jam," Charlie finally answered.

Something is definitely not right. Steve's gut told him to turn around and call for back-up but his stubborn streak got the better of him. Five-O needed more evidence to put the notorious Murphy brothers where they belonged – behind bars. Whatever information Charlie had to divulge, it was worth the risk to Hawaii's top cop.

"McGarrett?" Charlie called out.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Steve replied as he slowly made his way into the warehouse. Realizing he still had his right hand firmly wrapped around the handgrip of his pistol, he drew the firearm out of its holster and held it close to him.

In the dimly lit warehouse, Steve eyed Charlie who stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by wooden crates that lined the walls.

"What's going on, Charlie?"

"I…I…I'm sorry, Steve," Charlie stammered.

Before Steve could respond a figure stepped out from behind a crate and out of the concealment of the shadows. The glint of metal reflecting off his steel blue eyes, triggered his reflexes. Just as he raised his revolver, a shot rang out. A fiery pain hit him in his side.

Dan downed the last of his coffee and placed the mug on his desk. He leaned back in his seat and rubbed at the stiffness in his neck. He looked at the clock and frowned. It was a good three quarters of an hour since Steve left and knowing the man's driving reputation, he should've been back by now. Snitches rarely had long tales to spin and usually kept whatever information they sold in brief points. Despite Dan's insistence to go with Steve, the lead detective stubbornly left without him. Mind the fort, Danno. The sandy haired young man sighed heavily, rose from his seat and grabbed his jacket.

The wounded detective ducked behind a row of crates and dropped to his knees as the debilitating pain took his breath away. Still clutching his .38, Steve forced himself off his knees. Keeping at a crouched position, he inched his way forward and peered around the edge of the tower of crates. His fingers trembled as he tried to hold the gun out steadily. From where he crouched, he could see Charlie being shoved out of the warehouse. The gunman raised his weapon and took aim at the snitch's retreating back. Steve held his gun out in front of him, but his vision swam in and out of focus. He reached across with his free hand and leaned against the stack of crates,to steady himself. The wooden container gave way under his weight and fell, crashing to the ground, alerting the gunman who turned away from his intended victim.

Steve tried to disengage himself from the splintered mess and lifted his right arm. A swift kick dislodged the revolver from his grasp and it clattered across the floor out of his reach, shrouded in the shadows.

"Not this time, McGarrett!" the voice of Lester Murphy penetrated through the haziness of Steve's consciousness.

"Lester, you're digging…y…yourself a…a grave," Steve gasped as he tried to push himself off his hands and knees to face his adversary.

Laughing maliciously, Lester circled the fallen man. "The only grave I'm digging is yours!"

Steve grunted in pain as a vicious kick to his side brought him down once more. Before he could recover his wind, a kick in the gut sent him to the edges of oblivion.

"What's the matter, pig? You're not the big man anymore without your gun and sharp mouth of yours are you?" Lester drawled as he continued to circle his victim who lay curled into a fetal position on the floor.

Five-O's top cop breathed heavily as he forced his eyes open and lifted his head off the ground. He looked up and locked eyes with his tormenter as he stopped his circling.

"Look at you. You're pathetic!" Lester shouted. He stowed his pistol away, leaned down and gripped the detective's collar. Lester yanked the injured man to his feet, drew him up close and spat in his face.

McGarrett balled his fists up in anger and drove a sharp jab into Lester's midsection, catching the offender by surprise. He followed through with an uppercut to the man's chin. Drained of all his strength and off balanced, Steve's legs gave way. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lester fall onto his back and knew he only had seconds to move before his attacker would regain his senses. Unable to straighten up, Steve took several running steps, bent double, his hands clutched the bullet wound. The warm wetness seeped through his shirt and coated his fingers. Alarm bells rang inside his head and he knew he was losing blood fast. A familiar object lay a few feet away, cloaked in the shadows, its metallic sheen caught the faint glow of light.

Lester rolled to his feet and chased down the detective who had dived to the ground.

With the gun back in his hand and using the darkness to mask himself, Steve aimed and fired, just as another shot reverberated, missing him by inches.

Wide eyed, Lester Murphy's pistol slipped out of his hand as he slumped forward and fell to the ground, grabbing his chest.

Steve moved away from the dark corner of the warehouse, collapsed and lay doubled over. His eyes involuntarily drooped shut as he drew one ragged breath after another and lost his battle to remain conscious.

Steve. Steve? Hang in there, I'll call for help…

Through the thick fog invading his senses, Steve thought he heard a voice calling out his name. Danno? No, I told him to stay behind.

Come on, Steve!

No, Charlie's going to clam up if he sees you there.

It could be a trap.

I'm willing to take that risk. I've waited too long to break this case wide open.

I don't like it.

Risks come with the badge, Danno!

The memory of his stern words and the hurt in his protégé's blue eyes, haunted Steve's mind as he stirred to wakefulness.

"Danno?" Steve croaked in a strained voice, barely above a whisper.

"Williams to Central. I need an ambulance and back up units to Pier 1 Imports on Auahi Street. Officer down, request assistance," Dan radioed. He replaced the mike beneath the dash and raced back into the warehouse.

Dan knelt down beside his fallen mentor. "Steve? Can you hear me?"

"Dan-no, I'm sorry…being a stub-born…pig-headed….you were right….was a trap…Lester…," Steve slurred.

"Easy, Steve, easy. An ambulance is on the way," Dan reassured the restless detective and placed his hand on Steve's shoulder. His ocean blue eyes sought Steve's as he tried to tell him that he forgave him for his pig headedness.

"Murphy? Is he…"

"He's dead," Danno replied matter-of-factly. "It's over."

Silence passed momentarily before Dan said softly, "Steve?"

The dark haired detective raised his eyebrows.

Fleetingly, Dan wanted Steve to know exactly how he felt about the dangers that the top cop often placed himself in, in the name of duty but the wailing of sirens closed in on the scene as ambulance and HPD back-up arrived. With a weak smile, the thought left Dan's mind and he squeezed Steve's shoulder firmly. "Ambulance is here."

"Why do I get a feeling you…you wanted to say some…something else?"

"It can wait."

As a team of paramedics rushed to work on his friend, Dan stood back and looked on. Trepidation cascaded through him as once again Steve McGarrett's life was on the line.

Risks come with the badge…

"How is he?" Dan asked.

"Serious, but stable. We'll know more once we bring him in," a medic answered.

Dan could only nod in response as the paramedics loaded Steve into the back of the ambulance.

"Mind the fort, Danno," mumbled Steve as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Sure, Steve. Sure," Dan said forlornly as the doors to the ambulance closed and the vehicle drove away, leaving him amid a crowd of HPD officers as they swarmed the crime scene. With a heavy heart, Dan turned to the silver haired HPD sergeant and issued his instructions as the painstaking task of gathering evidence from the crime scene began.

PAU