Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-0 it is without prejudice property of CBS, K/O Paper Products, CBS Productions (season 1–2), CBS Television Studios (season 3–), 101st Street Television, Peter M. Lenkov, Alex Kurtzman, Roberto Orci. I own only my own creations. No infringement of copy write is intended and will be removed if contacted. All songs mentioned belong to Springsteen. Nor do I own SkyDrive.
Summary: When Gracie Williams arrived at Hillman-Grant Academy that morning, she never expected her school to be besieged by armed gunman. *Edited as of 7/15/18 and once again being updated.
On the Ledge
Chapter One:
Hillman-Grant Academy was a sprawling privet school that catered to the children of the islands elite. Enclosed in by forty-foot iron gates, equipped with top of the line motions sensors and cameras, and a guard booth; it seemed safety was a guarantee. It was one of the few redeeming factors in the eyes of Danny Williams. Having grown up in North Jersey, Danny didn't much care if the cafeteria had a trained Chef or offered Equestrian courses. He had survived the public school system in Hoboken where the closest they came to gourmet food came from the vending machines. So when Rachel and Step-Stan had tried to win him over with the physical education program of Wednesday yoga, he had been less than impressed. What the hell ever happened to dodge ball? Apparently, it was too violent or so said Stan. No a kid could not lob a red rubber ball at their classmates, but they sure, as hell could do downward facing dog.
As a last ditch, resort Rachel had thrust the security pamphlet into his hands hoping to forestall a wildly gesticulated tangent. It had been an act of desperation, but it had worked. The following week he had joined Grace, Rachel, (and regrettably) Stan on a tour of campus.
Danny had been skeptical when he had pulled up to the former estate. Other men, lesser men, may have been impressed by the sasquatch guarding the gate, or the lush sprawling grounds and tropical gardens doted with flowering trees, or the looming stone façade that seemed to scream wealth with a cold stone sterility. Even the brightly gleaming jewel tone stain glass windows, of brightly colored hibiscus blossoms amongst tendrils of ivy, that hugged the Mediterranean style double door entrance to Hillman-Grant Academy; inspired little interest from Danny.
In truth he cared very little for the aesthetic of a school for his daughter. Even the sourest lemon of a car could be polished up and painted to fool the naïve who never had the common sense to pop the hood and glance beneath the façade. Beauty, Danny found, hid a multitude of flaws. He was determined to truly asses the security of the school his little monkey would be spending her days, even if he had to have Steve crawl through the ventilation shafts to ease his mind.
A large bird like creature, was on the steps awaiting their arrival. Tall and willowy, dressed in a gray pantsuit, with a large broach of diamonds and of all things feathers on her lapel, and black hair pulled up into a sever bun and stern face; she looked very much like a woman who lured unsuspecting children to her lair and baked them into pies.
The woman turned out to be the guidance counselor, named of all things, Ms. Ratched. It was in no way confidence inspiring and the only thing that stopped him from saying so was Rachel's pointy elbow in his ribs. As if sensing his impertinent nature, Ms. Ratched fixed him with a beady eyed look over her beak like nose, her mouth puckered into a sour frown. Her countenance darkened further when he had offered up an insolent grin.
The tour commenced as the counselor lead them through the atrium and along the first floor, pointing out the areas of interest and droning on about the curriculum. Stan had been just tickled pink about, what the school dubbed, junior entrepreneur classes. The pompous bastards. Rachel had been quite taken with the introductory language courses as well as the arts program. Grace was thrilled that she could spend forty-five minutes a day with a pony and call it a education. Danny had been the only person in the group who was still blatantly skeptical and argumentative.
On their way from the library they met Molly Holmes, the Vice Principal, and had been noticeably horrified that Ms. Ratched had been tapped to lead the tour. With a strained smile and barely disguised irritation Mrs. Holmes sent the surly woman away. It was with an abundance of nerves that the newly arrived VP led them around the campus. Apologizing profusely and offering up the Ms. Ratched would be retiring at the end of next year.
On the day went, through the history, science, and arts wings. A golf cart tour of the grounds, stopping at the tennis courts, soccer/field hockey/ and lacrosse fields, and the stables. Finally they were led back out of the oppressive humidity into a large lounge off the library. Used as a safe place for teachers and students to interact outside of class, whether it be for tutoring or socializing. Why students would wish to mingle with their teachers, outside of class, was beyond him. Over coffee and repulsive vegan strudel, Mrs. Holmes had offered to let them observe one of their nutrition and healthy living classes. Danny would have rather had bamboo shoots shot under his fingernails, and he'd said as much.
Rachel had glowered at him.
Stan stammered and flushed an unflattering shade of puce.
Gracie, well she had rolled her eyes and promptly told the Vice Principle her daddy was the best cop on the island.
He had promptly swelled with joy, at the absolute pride in his little monkey's voice.
The Vice Principle had actually squealed, bounced in her chair like a three year old on a sugar high, and clapped her hands in joy. He had been more than a little disturbed by the display, but a truly toxic look from his ex-wife had held his tongue. In a move that was met with both shock and approval, she had asked to see his credentials and only then offered to give him the five cent tour of security.
That was how they had ended up in, what they obnoxiously, called the bunker. Located in a large two story windowless out building, built in a Mission Revival Style, by the tennis courts it was three times the size of his apartment. With a large metal door that required both key card and fingerprint identification to open, with smooth concrete sides and a terracotta shingled roof.
Now Danny's attention was suitably engaged. With a buzz and a loud clank of a bolt sliding free, the door opened. Inside the door was a long, unadorned, hall. The bland white walls only broken by the dark gray of doors and a single circular metal staircase. True to her word she silently led them up the staircase, offering no explanation of the closed doors they passed. Once upstairs she led them into an alcove, and to Danny it was like onto the bridge of the Starship Enterprise.
Over fifty sleek, black 30' inch flat screens lined the walls in rows of six angled on supporting adjustable brackets for optimal viewing, above a long 'L' shaped desk. The top rows showing a continuous live feed of the grounds and surrounding parameter. On one of the screens, Danny had even seen two stocky men in dark security uniforms patrolling the fence in a shiny white golf cart. The remaining monitors were dedicated to the hallways, the gym, auditorium and important offices. If Danny wasn't aware that the school housed many children of diplomats and local government officials, as well as those of filthy rich, he would have grabbed his daughter and head for the hills, and she would have spent her days with tutors in the safety of her home. The man manning the screens that day had been a crotchety man in his mid-sixties; a retired naval officer and Jets fan to boot.
After a lengthy conversation with Bud, Danny had been impressed, and had not kicked up his usual fuss when Rachel registered Grace. He did however, make his indignation heard when Stan had tried to sign his daughter up for fencing classes. It was bad enough Step-Stan was trying to entice his monkey into tennis lessons at their snooty country club; he was not going to put a weapon in her fragile little hands too.
Two hours later, paper work had been filled out, the first month of tuition paid (after Danny had finished hyperventilating at the sheer amount of zeros on the check), they finally left with an approved lesson course in hand. Monkey had gotten her Equestrian study; Rachel had her ceramics and introduction to Mandarin, and Stan his junior business courses. All Danny had left with was a migraine and peace of mind regarding his daughter's safety.
Even three years later as he drove up to the wrought iron gates of Hillman-Grant, checked in with the guard and was waved up the winding cobble stone drive, that faith in security was the only reason he let Gracie out of the car.
"All right Monkey, you have a good day. And keep away from the business end of those horses, all right?"
Grace rolled her eyes and grinned unbuckling her seatbelt.
His heart melted like butter in the Hawaiian sun.
"Yes, Danno."
He grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Good, now hugs."
Giggling, she leaned over the center console hugging him tightly. He kissed her dark hair and tugged on the end of her braid. Pulling away, she grabbed her backpack from the floor, shouldered it, and opened the car door.
"Hey, Danno loves you."
"Love you too." She slipped out, straightened her uniform, slammed the door, and rushed across the pavement and up the marble steps. As she always did she, turned just before she slipped in the door grinned happily and waved.
With a sigh, he put the car in drive and made his way out of the congested campus. Cranking the music, he sung loudly along to the Boss, determined to enjoy some Jersey nostalgia before Sergeant Slaughter hijacked his car again. He made good time, pulling into the parking lot of Five-0 headquarters and pulling into an empty space. Still whistling Thunder Road, he locked the car with the key fob, strode up the sidewalk, and smoothed his tie.
By the time, he reached the clear glass door of Five-0 he had graduated to Springsteen's best. Finishing the final verse to Born to Run he pushed open the door and slipped inside.
"Morning Brah. Drop Grace off today?" Office Kono Kalakaua, grinned her dark hair still damp from her morning surf. He approached her at the computer dock, where she was typing away at the touch screen.
"Mhmm, Rachel and Stanley are having a spa retreat in Molokaʻi. What they need to retreat from, well your guess is as good as mine." He replied with a disgusted eye roll.
Kono whistled. "Wow, swanky. Must be nice to have Grace all to yourself thou."
This time Danny grinned. "The best. So what's this? New case?" He nodded up at the monitors. Upon closer inspection, familiar crazy eyes glared back at him from the flat screen. He remembered that punk thought he was the modern days answer to Billy the Kid.
"Nah, nothing news come in yet. This one's from couple months back, that home invasion ring in Diamond Head. I'm due to testify at the end of the week, and my monitors on the fritz." She crinkled her nose in distaste and jerked her head back toward her office.
"Ah, well better you than me, so where is Judge Dred? Chumming the waters with suspects? Dangling drug dealers off of roofs by their thumbs?"
She snickered slightly. "Nah…not yet anyway. He had a meeting with the Governor Denning."
"Ah, that explains the solitude. I need coffee. Steve didn't make it this morning did he?" he quested wearily. Any time Steve used the coffee machine the only thing it produced was a toxic caffeinated sludge. McGarrett could perform underwater demolitions without batting an eye, scale walls like Spiderman, and withstand torture, and take out a terrorist at a click and a half but producing a decent brew was beyond his skill set.
"Don't worry. Chin made a fresh batch. Took him five minutes to get the pot clean, but it's safe now."
Danny didn't doubt it. The stuff had the look, constancy, and smell of motor oil. He shivered at the very thought, he made the mistake of it drinking once. In his defense, it had been a late night, and he need caffeine if he had any hopes of not falling asleep at the wheel on his way home. One cup of that and he had been up until dawn watching the shop at home channel.
Over caffeinated and beyond exhausted he'd been an easy sell. By the time he crashed at six-thirty the next morning he'd run up a hefty bill on his credit card. A personalized surfboard detailing kit for Kono, she'd been ecstatic and had even finished her own paperwork instead of Danny having to hunt it down and finish the half filled pages.
The collector's edition model of a 1970 Triumph Bonneville for Chin had gone over like gangbusters. Danny wasn't sure why in his sleep addled mind he believed Max absolutely needed a set of limited edition Yoda salt and peppershakers, but Max had been quite touched (his exact words) upon delivery of his unexpected gift. So it had worked out.
Gracie was now the proud owner of a stuffed gorilla holding a banana shaped picture frame between its floppy hands. They had even made a special trip to the Honolulu zoo to take a picture in front of the monkey exhibit especially for that frame. Kamekona had very nearly shattered his ribs after he had given him How to grow your Business: the Secrets to Entrepreneurial Brilliance. As a treat for himself, he got the complete theatrical works of Elvis Presley.
Sometime during the night, he must have switched to a PBS telethon because a week later a model of the USS Arizona, that benefited the Pearl Harbor Memorial Fund, had been among the stack of packages outside his door. Not that Steve deserved it, after all it was his fault he had racked up over three hundred dollars' worth of purchases, on non-refundable sale items.
Danny had been tempted to hand him an itemized bill and keep the model. McGarrett however had bitched like a little girl when everyone else had benefited from his night of insomnia, but him. So he'd forked it over to cease the incessant whining. He regretted it almost instantly when Steve had grinned smugly, and clapped his shoulder in thanks, even thou that smirk negated the sincere gratitude. It now sat in Steve office, mocking him… silently calling him a schmuck every time he passed it.
Crossing into the break room, he made a beeline for the coffee pot. Pulling two mugs down from the cabinet, and two plastic spoons from the box on top of the microwave, and filled them with steam black brew. The smell alone was drug to his senses. The scent alone began to drive the lingering haze of sleep from his brain. Grabbing the liquid creamer from the fridge, he poured a splash into his cup and giving it a quick stir. Replacing the creamer, he kicked the door shut with his foot. Seizing a few sugar packets, and the mugs he strode out the door.
With no case to be had and with Steve meeting with the Governor now was the perfect time to catch up on a little paper work. The last thing he needed was to have Denning's secretary Mable, riding his ass for backlogged paperwork. Again. Worse yet ADA Milner. Pausing only to drop off the extra mug and the sugar packets with Kono, he made his way for his office.
With a gulp of dark roast brew, he set to work. Falling into a haze of arrest reports Danny was unaware of how long he worked but he had made a nice dent in his back paper work. Scrawling his signature on the LED screen with the plastic stylist, he saved his report and uploaded it to the team SkyDrive. Sitting back in his chair, he clasped his hand and stretched his arms over his head. He sighed in pleasure as his neck and shoulder cracked satisfyingly. Glancing at his empty mug, he debated a refill when a shrill ring echoed through the silent office.
He leaned back in his chair and spotted Kono slipping her phone from her pocket, with a furrowed brow she answered. Her dark eyes flicked to him momentarily and pointing toward the door, before disappearing. Danny frowned as suspicion gnawed at his gut, but eventually shrugged it off as a personal matter. Pushing back from his desk he grabbed his mug and headed for the break room in search of Malasadas and more coffee.
He was on his third helping of the heavenly treat when he heard the angry clomp of boots on linoleum. It seemed Steve had finally returned from his meeting and in a mood. Danny sighed and gave his reflection in the cabinet a mournful look. Pissy Steve always led to property damage and paper work.
Standing with his back to Danny, dressed in his signature t-shirt, cargo pants, and combat boots combo, Steve talked in hushed tones with Chin and Kono (both who had appeared from parts unknown). Furrowing his brows, he shuffled toward the glass door. From this angle, he had a clear view of Chin and Kono's expressions. Chin's normally affable demeanor was gone, his face now devoid of warmth leaving him all hard angles and rage. Kono on the other hand had a look of quite menace on her face, her back tense and ramrod straight, her dark eyes burning like twin laser into space.
Slipping out into the hallway, he clapped his hands together, "okay since when am I left out of team chats. If were going for another whole bonding thing," he twirled his hands about. "I believe I should have equal say."
Steve turned slowly, his shoulders squared, and faced him. He had aneurism face. Oh, that never boded well for Danny. Usually it involved grenades or semi-automatic weapons, but it always ended with stiches.
"I'm afraid to even ask, last time you had that look you totaled my car and I needed stiches in my ass."
Steve said sighing, unconsciously clenching his hands into fists, "Danny,"
His blood froze. Steve never back down from a jibe, he was not one who let a prime opportunity to needle him go. But he had, and it scared the shit out of him.
"What? I know something is going on so tell me."
Steve looked away clenching his eyes shut as if the very words caused him pain. "There's been a disturbance at Hillman-Grant Academy."
The ground beneath his feet seemed to dissolve, and he was lost and everything tumbled and spun as if the world, his world had been knocked from its axis. Fear flowed through his veins molten and stomach churning. His body felt both weightless and leaden, his pulse hammering in his ears. Outcomes of other school 'disturbances' whirled through his mind like an EF5 Tornado reducing everything else in its path to rubble. Then he was falling deeper ad deeper into terror.
It was strong hands on his shoulders and arms, squeezing tightly and the dim call of his name that roused him. The knees of his dress pants were brushing he floor and it was the combine strength of Steve, Kono, and Chin holding him up. His stomach pitched and he fought the urge to heave. Numb hand reached out, fisting his friend's t-shirt and fought to pull himself up. With ease his team lifted him back onto his feet and held him steady when his legs threatened to buckle.
"Grace?" Danny demanded, his voice weak and rasping and his eyes a chaotic storm of frantic worry.
Kono's fingers tightened convulsively on his bicep, blunt nails pinching his skin. The slivers of pain a welcome relief to his troubled mind, as it pushed the fog from his mind.
Chin growled.
Steve clenched his jaw so tightly, Danny was sure he heard his teeth grinding, and looked at him with anger swirling in his eyes. "We…we don't know.
He surged forward, in a burst of a adrenalin eyes wild and face flaming red. His knuckle bleached white as he tightened his hold on the blue cotton material. With all his might, broke free of Chin and Kono, shoving the former SEAL harshly back and into the glass wall. The glass rattled in its frame under the impact, but held under the assault. "No! My daughter, my daughter Steven…is in that school so you damn well better well know!"
With each word, he gave his friend a sharp shake. Chin and Kono leapt forward each snagging one of his arms, and trying and failing to pry him back. A look from their boss had them stepping back. Steve didn't fight him, but regarded him seriously. "I don't know Danny, but we'll find out. Nothing…hey listen to me… nothing is going to happen to Gracie."
Gracie.
His little monkey. Something had happened at her school. He didn't know if she was hurt and waiting for Danno to come make everything okay again. Everything he had ever done since the moment she was born was to keep her safe.
From the time, he first brought Grace and Rachel home from the hospital, and she had seen that he had baby proofed the house for a newborn who would not be walking for some time. Rachel had found it hysterical, calling him mad. She found his late night window and door checks less humorous, especially when he wouldn't get home from a shift until the early morning hours. It hadn't stopped him, it only made him hyper aware of what steps creaked and just how far he could nudge open the door before it squeaked.
Later it had been following her around as she toddled on pudgy feet, in a half crouch arms outstretched to catch her when she teetered. To soon after that it had been don't talk to strangers, always wear your helmet while on the tricycle; don't jump on the bed, never touch the stove, no matter what your grandfather says you are not allowed to try beer until your thirty…thirty-three.
Once she had begun school it had been never wander away from the other kids on the playground, if you saw someone standing at the fence tell the teacher, don't eat paste it'll stun your growth, and alike. The cardinal rule however, was even if she followed every rule and she still found herself somewhere scared and alone, Danno would always find her no matter what. Danny had never wanted to have cause to fulfill that particular promise. To ensure that he had even sent her to that new age school, to keep her safe. With its top of the line security system, and roving sweeps of the grounds, he never thought all his rules would fail her.
Just as quickly, as it had seized him in its grasp, the adrenalin deserted him. All his strength waned, his hands went limp and he staggered back. Kono duked under his arm, burrowing slightly into his side, gipping his waist to keep him vertical. "What happened Steven? Tell me." His voice cracked, his eyes watered. Chin squeezed tightly at his shoulder in silent support.
The vein in Steve's temple twitched violently, eyes twin barren wastelands. This was not Steve his friend. This was Super SEAL Steve.
"It came through dispatch, five minutes ago. A 1000hrs of shots fired." Danny heaved, bile burning at the back of his throat. Grace was a hostage. His little girl was some mad man's advantage. He would kill them. Every one of them with his bare hands. If one hair was mussed on her perfect head, they would beg for death.
"How…" he voice was thick and raspy. He cleared his throat. "How do you know?"
Steve shifted. "One of the faculty escaped."
"Oh God." He whimpered, sagging heavily onto Kono's shoulder.
"Ran to the gate, and used the phone in the guard booth to call it in. HPD is securing the area and rounding up the families. Five-0 is running point on negotiation and recovery. SWATS already been mustered and are in-route to the scene."
Hillman-Grant Academy:
Thirty minutes earlier:
Grace Williams scowled as she sat on the hard wooden bench outside Vice Principle Holmes' office. Apparently, when Mrs. Larsden had sent them down here she had forgotten that both Mrs. Holmes and Dean Carver were away from the school today. So she had been forced to wait on the bench just outside the office door, while Mrs. Pullman called down Miss. Clark the Guidance counselor who was handling all disciplinary problems.
To her left, she heard a slight sniffle. Slouched with his back against the wall, holding an ice pack to his nose was Travis Wilkins. Travis was a new boy in her History class, who had just moved here from Michigan. Knowing how it felt to be the new kid, she had tried to be nice to him. Inviting him along when she went to visit the school stables, during recess and introduce him to Peaches. Travis didn't like horses, so she had invited him to join her and Gabby at lunchtime. That had been a mistake. Because Travis was a bully, who enjoyed picking on her friend. Gabby Albright was a small girl that always wore her blonde hair in pigtails and was teased mostly because of her weight. So when Mrs. Landers had put them into groups for a project on the founding of Jamestown. She, Gabby, and shy boy named Brady had been paired together and had moved to the back of the room to work on their project.
Travis had followed, leaving his own group behind, just to come over and call Gabby mean names. Grace had told him to go away or she'd tell the teacher, but another group distracted Mrs. Landers. So when Travis had reached over and pulled her friends hair so hard she cried out and her eyes welled with tears, Grace had acted on her own.
Uncle Steve had once told her bullies were cowards. And ones that made little girls cry were even worse. Bullies were afraid of strength, and if you showed them you were tougher and stronger, they'd be the ones who were scared. So that was what she did.
Mrs. Landers had finally noticed them when Travis had screamed. Holding his lightly bleeding nose and crying. Mrs. Landers had scowled as she pulled a packed to tissues from her pocket and place a handful in Travis' hand and pressed his hand up to his nose to stop the bleeding. She hadn't cared about why she had slugged him, hadn't even listened when Gabby and Brady tried to explain. Grace had been sent directly to Ms. Holmes' office while Travis had been sent to the nurse.
Mrs. Bradshaw, the school nurse, obviously hadn't wanted him either; because she dropped him off at the office only five minutes later. Telling him to keep the ice on his nose unless he wanted to look like an angry raccoon. Mrs. Pullman had directed him to the other bench with the point of a finger, phone clasped between her ear and shoulder. He collapsed on the other bench pouting, his nose red and puffy beneath the ice bag.
Okay so maybe she shouldn't have punched him. Mom said it was wrong to hit people just because they made her angry. So she probably shouldn't have done exactly what Uncle Steve would do. Danno was always complaining that Uncle Steve didn't have any respect for something called due process, whatever that was. From what Grace was able to understand, it sound like Uncle Steve really liked to hit people when he was angry. Now she had gone and done the same thing.
Oh, Mom and Danno was going to be so mad.
Minutes ticked by and Mrs. Pullman poked her head into the hall to tell them Miss. Clark would be down for them as soon as she finished up with "…another little hooligan who thought it was funny to put super glue on toilet seats."
The bell rang after the longest three minutes of her life, sending a stampede of students flowing into the main halls. Grace sighed; she was going to miss the pep-rally for spirit week. She spotted Gabby and Brady as they made their way toward the gym. Gabby had moved to come talk to her, but Mrs. Pullman who was standing in the doorway shooed her off.
Gabby sniffled and gazed sadly at her before hurrying off down 'B' corridor. Mrs. Pullman watched the stream of students with a sour frown. The older secretary eyed her two charges with suspicion. As if, she expected them to dash off the bench and blend into the crowd.
Grace rolled her eyes. In the three years she had been at HGA Grace had never seen Mrs. Pullman smile or heard her say a kind word. To anyone. The closest had been, "Good morning, sit out there. And don't cause a racket." when Grace had arrived with her note from Mrs. Landers.
Slowly the crowd of chattering students disappeared down the hall. Loud voices and cheers echoed down the hall through the open doors of the gym. With a metallic clang, the doors were pulled shut, and the halls grew quite.
"You ruffians stay put." Mrs. Pullman glared down at them, and disappeared back into her office. Grace fidgeted on her bench, kicking her dangling legs in a bout of nerves. Miss. Clark had been the guidance counselor for nearly two years, having taken over for Ms. Ratched who had retired. The few times she had met her had been at the end of the year to choose her class schedule for the following year.
Miss. Clark was a nice woman, small and heavy set, with dark hair and kind eyes. She was always quick to offer lollipops from the glass jar on her desk or ready with a funny story. Grace liked her, when she was just the person helping her pick classes for the following year. She, however, had never been sent to her on a disciplinary problem. Robbie Collins had been sent to Miss. Clark the previous year, and had nothing but complaints about her. Calling her cruel and unfair. Grace could do nothing more than pitifully sigh. Voices and the heavy clip of high heels on marble marked the arrival of a tall woman, who emerged from the guidance office down the hall. Across from her perch on the bench, Grace watched as a pretty blonde lady towed a boy about her age out into the hall.
"Thank you, so much…for not expelling him. I promise you Rodney and I will be having a long talk about this…won't we Rodney?"
Rodney flinched, and flushed red.
The brown haired woman smiled warmly. "I've seen much worse, Mrs. Richards. I'm sure a week of suspension is more than enough. Thankfully the…incident was more embracing than harmful."
Mrs. Richards flushed and glared down angrily at her son. Rodney started down at his feet and scuffed the toe of his sneaker on the floor.
Grace flinched and bit back a whimper.
With another thank you, Mrs. Richards pulled her son toward the main lobby, scolding him the whole way.
Grace had done a lot worse than embarrass someone. She had made Travis' nosebleed. Would they kick her out? Would mom and Danno be as mad at her as Mrs. Richards was at Rodney? Her bottom lip quivered at the thought.
Miss Clark smiled at her, crossing the atrium the heels of her boots clicking against the marble. The woman stopped before their bench, absently smoothing her hands over her slacks. Maybe she would understand. Grace hadn't meant to hurt or embarrass anyone, not like Rodney had.
"So you two must be my next customers. Grace and Travis, right?" She smiled, her eyes crinkling.
Grace nodded meekly, tugging nervously at the hem of her skirt, her dark eyes cast to the floor.
Travis just grunted rudely and drummed his feet against leg of the bench. Miss. Clark tuned eyes on the pouting child and arching an eyebrow. Travis' legs froze mid-kick, and he slowly lowered his feet to the floor. Appeased, the woman moved toward the office, bracing a hand on the frame and ducking her head inside. Fidgeting nervously, Grace could hear a muffled conversation. A conversation Miss. Clark seemed anxious to be done with, if the way she was tapping the toe of her boot on the floor was any indication.
"Alright then, I'm going to take these two off your hands Mrs. Pullman." Miss. Clark ducked her head into the office, but her voice still echoing in around the hall.
"Hallelujah." Mrs. Pullman grumbled from inside the office. Miss. Clark pursed her lips and gave the older woman a reprimanding glare.
Mrs. Pullman did not reply with anything more then offended huff and a sharp slap to the stapler. So with an shake of her head, Miss. Clark gestured for them to follow her. Slowly, reluctantly, Grace slid down from the bench and grabbed her backpack. Travis made a show of standing and clasping the bag of ice to his nose with a pained moan.
Grace glared at him.
Miss. Clark looked on slightly amused, before turning on her heel and leading her toward the corridor that house the guidance office. They were just approaching the heavy double doors that led to the admin and guidance offices, when Miss Clark stopped abruptly.
Caught off guard, Gracie very nearly slammed into her back. Glancing up at the woman in confusion, she watched as Miss. Clark seemed to gaze rapidly around the room. Green eyes flashing and shoulders tensing and to Grace, it seemed as if she was straining to hear something. With her head cocked to the side, she looked almost like Greta, Step Stan's German Sheppard when something far off caught her attention. When it seemed there was nothing to be heard, the brunette shook her head and gave an embarrassed chuckle.
The sharp scream was so startling to Grace she very nearly dropped her bag, when she jumped. Even Travis very nearly toppled over in surprise. Miss. Clark merely tensed, as she spun easily on her heel and reached out to grab the two of them by the shoulders, pulling them closer to her. However it was the loud rat-tat-tat that had her tightening her hold and propelling them forward. With a strong pull the door flew open, and she was ushering them through, before slamming it shut and jumping up to throw the bolt at the top of the door, locking it.
"Run!" was the gruff command as Miss. Clark turned back to them.
Grace didn't question her, she simply ran.
Down the marble and wood paneled hall they went, along the way Travis tripped, but was caught by the collar of his shirt. He cried out for his mom, as he was drug along. Past the guidance offices, past the teachers lounge, and a quick turn into a branching hall by the library. With each step the sounds of chaos grew louder, assaulting them from all directions until finally they ducked down another hall reached the lone door.
It was then they paused, Travis panting an shaking, still caught in the iron grip of their guidance counselor, as the short woman slowly edged the door open and peeped inside.
Without a word, Miss Clark cocked her head and directed them through the doorway. The room was empty and eerily dark with the lights off and the shades still pulled. Closing the door softly behind them, Miss. Clark caught their eyes and held a silencing finger to her lips as she locked the door.
Trembling from head to foot, Grace was incapable of speech even if she wished too, and Travis was panting trying to catch his breath with his clogged nose. After pushing the two of them into a corner hidden from the view of the door, Miss. Clark crept silently toward the desk, quietly rummaging through drawers and cabinets.
The screams and quick taps and pops of gun fire echoed in the silent room. Tears burned her eyes and it was almost as if she could hear Danno's voice telling, promising, her that if she was every in trouble; he would always come for her. Always. She willed the tears back, clutching her backpack to her chest, and hoping for a distraction from the noise and her own terror, she flicked her eyes around the room.
From the limited view her corner offered Grace, could barely make out the adjoining door, left slightly ajar. While she couldn't see past the door she did catch a familiar scent on the air. It smelled like Step-Nana's garage. The heavy scent of pine always lingered. Grace had never been in the woodshop class room before and she certainly didn't want to be there now.
She wanted to be home. Home with Danno, and her mom, and Uncle Steve, and even Step-Stan. She wanted to wrap herself in her old ratty Little Mermaid blanket and watch Disney movies until she could forget the sounds of terrified screams and gun fire. She wanted Danno and Uncle Steve to sing 'Under the Sea' with her, but most of all she wanted to feel safe again.
Miss. Clark reappeared from behind the desk with a battered and stained laptop. With quick fingers the older woman set about doing something on the computer, as Travis tried to burrow deeper into the corner. His panting turning into hiccuping sobs, and he buried his swollen face in his knees to stifle the sound. Then after what seemed like days, one final blast of gunfire crackled through the air before everything went silent. At the desk, Miss. Clark flinched at the sudden, startling, silence. Tapping a few more keys, she cursed softly and closed the lid of the laptop.
Again she held a finger to her lips. Then came forward, laptop tucked under one arm, hand held out to help them to their feet. Slowly she led them past desks and chairs, careful not to make a sound, she lead them to the door that connected the class room to the actual shop.
Piles of lumber and half finished projects littered the benches. Once again Miss. Clark pushed she and Travis into a small corner, this one blocked from view by two large metal cabinets and a tall pile of lumber.
In a soft voice, Miss. Clark nodded to her bag and said, "Mind if I use that?"
Grace was loath to give it up, as somehow it felt like a tether to safety, but even in her terror she realized how silly it was. With a reluctant nod, she handed it over. Miss. Clark seemed to under stand, and reached beneath the neck of her blouse, pulling free a set of dog tags. For a moment she clenched them in her fist, before pulling them easily over her head.
"These are my lucky charm, they make me feel safe." She said in a whisper, as she looped the chain over Grace's head. "Its only fair to trade."
With a wink she grabbed the backpack by the top handle and headed off into the far corner of the room to pulling out the pile of text and note books from the bag, Miss. Clark tucked them safely out of view behind a stack of wooden pallets, before moving to the tool cabinet. With nimble fingers she entered a string of numbers into the keypad and slumped forward in relief when the door clicked open.
Grace peeped around a pile of lumber and watched as the older woman carefully unplugged tools from the charging docks and stowed them neatly in the backpack. Dozens of tight coils soon joined the tools, along with a small crowbar and three hatchets. Gulping Grace, fell back into her corner, ignoring Travis' gasping whine of complaint, and clenched the dog tags tightly in her hand.
Somehow she knew, that Miss. Clark wasn't taking those tools for safety alone. They were going to war.
