AN: This was written as a response to a writer's challenge. My ficlet is based on a screen cap of an episode in which a blue pick-up truck is seen possibly trying to run Steve's Mercury off the road. Please read and review :-) Thank you!
The Fury Within
(*Edited by "Book 'em Again")
Taking the steps two at a time, the tall detective pelts out of the iconic Iolani Palace. Breathing hard and fast, he does not slow his pace until he reaches the black Ford Mercury. Shouts and hurried footsteps follow him but they are just background noise easily ignored as fury rushes through his veins like molten lava pouring out of a volcano. He yanks the door open and throws himself into the driver's seat. He guns the engine to life and takes flight down the street, away from the commotion and the anguished stares.
* A L O H A ! *
Hawaii Five-O's second in command directs the two men flanking him as he heads for his LTD stationed in its usual place. The Hawaiian HPD Sergeant and the Oriental detective make their way, wordlessly and grim-faced, to their respective vehicles.
Steve, please don't do anything you'll regret! Please….that scum's not worth it!
* A L O H A ! *
It didn't take long before Steve sees that the grimy blue pick-up is in his sights. Checking his mirrors fleetingly, he makes certain it is safe for him to force the vehicle to the side of the road. His heart pounds like a sledge hammer beneath his rib-cage. Pull over, damn it!
The driver of the pick-up turns his head to one side and curses through the open window as the unmarked cop car closes in on him. He jerks the wheel in a purposeful manner in an attempt to run the other vehicle off the road.
Metal collides with metal. The collision causes both vehicles to come to a grinding halt in the middle of the quiet street.
A handgun at the ready, Trent Wilson jumps out of his pick-up. Despite the thin red stream running down his face from a gash above his brow, the heavy set man straightens up then approaches the smoking Mercury's driver side door.
Dragging in a lungful of air, Steve shakes his head to clear the fogginess in his vision. He removes his hands from the wheel and turns his head in time to see the gunman raise his weapon. In one swift movement, Steve reaches for the door handle.
Before Trent's reflexes could respond to the threat, he falls back to the ground as the Mercury's door flies open and slams into him.
McGarrett pulls his revolver free from its leather holster and climbs out of the driver's seat at a crouch. He sees the man responsible for shooting down his friend and colleague raise himself off the ground, still clutching his pistol in one hand.
"Drop it, Trent!" Steve shouts harshly, raising his own piece in front of him.
A shot cuts through the air. Steve drops to the ground and rolls to a crouching position some feet way. He takes aim and returns fire. The sound makes its way to Steve's keen ears. Letting out a breath he had been holding for far too long, Steve rises to his feet and rushes to the wounded man who leans against the door of his vehicle, clutching his bleeding shoulder. The glint of metal reflected by the sun's powerful rays catches the detective's steel blue gaze. He kicks the object away from the injured man's reach. Gripping Trent's arm with one hand, he pulls him away from the vehicle. He ignores the protests of police brutality as he wheels the crook around so that he is facing the pick-up truck.
"Hands on the roof!" the detective barks his command.
Sirens are blaring close-by and tire screeches penetrate their ears. Car doors slam behind them and footsteps draw nearer.
Trent grinds his teeth in a combination of rage and agony. As he lifts his arms up slowly to comply with the detective's command, he rasps gloatingly between breaths, "How's that kanaka, pig? Bet he's still bleeding like a fat… "
The detective in him told Steve to ignore the jibes but images of a young Hawaiian detective crumpling to the ground from a gunshot to his chest fills his mind. The volcanic emotions within the top cop erupt. He wheels the man around and throws him up against the truck. He glares into the sneering face of the crook and tightens his grip on the man's shirt. Blood trickles down over one arm.
"What's the matter, McGarrett? Pig ain't dead yet, is he? Well, I hope he dies, real slow…" Trent goads the detective and lets out a dry pain-filled laugh.
"Steve!" Dan Williams calls out as he rushes to meet his boss and mentor. He places his hand firmly on Steve's arm and calls out his name once more.
"Next time, I'll put a hole in this one too!" Trent jerks his head toward Dan and smirks.
"Steve, it's over. It's over." Dan says assertively as he pulls at McGarrett's arm.
The lead detective waits until the anger subsides then he nods and allows his second in command to take the culprit off his hands. "Get him out of here, Danno! Book him!"
Steve watches as Dan and Duke drag a squirming and jeering Trent away from him. He looks down at his blood smeared hand. Reaching into his top pocket to retrieve his handkerchief, he stops when the action triggers an agonizing memory. His pocket is empty. No handkerchief. The last time he saw it was when it was used to staunch the blood flowing from his fallen comrade's wound.
"Here," Chin offers Steve his own handkerchief to wipe away the blood from his hand. He sees his boss's fingers tremble ever so slightly as he takes the item from him. Swallowing the uncomfortable lump in his throat, the father of eight decides to tell him the news in the hopes to calm the younger man. "Steve, we just heard from the hospital. Kono's out of surgery. He's going to make it."
He's going to make it. He nods and places a hand on Chin's shoulder, giving him a small smile of relief.
The volcano lays dormant once again as the fury within subsides to a dull ache.
Pau