Chapter two
A/N: Thank you all for the reviews, favorites and follows. I know it's hard to understand where the story's going after only one chapter so I appreciate the support. And to Stephanie, who left me a really nice review – I can't PM you, but you made my day!
Here's the second part. Figured since there's no new episode tonight I'd post this instead and give you guys something to focus on. It's quite long, and explains what happened to Danny and how things unfolded.
Hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you do – or even if you don't.
Steve McGarrett had seen bad things in his life.
He'd seen blood, death and evil so many times he had lost count, but the thought of having to identify his partner's body was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. His world-famous compartmentalizing skills had failed him big time during the drive downtown, and his legs had almost given out as he approached the scene.
Thankfully, the John Doe that had washed up on the beach was not Danny, and they'd all breathed a collective sigh, agreeing to go back to the Palace and regroup. Unbeknownst to the rest of his team, he'd made a beeline for the men's bathroom and promptly thrown up what little he'd eaten that morning and the night before.
Fate was taunting him, hitting him with one shot after another. He honestly wasn't sure how much more he could take, but knew with clear certainty that he would not be able to survive without Danny.
They needed a break in the case.
They needed good news.
Standing by the sink, both hands firmly gripping its edges as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, Steve sent a silent prayer that just this once, things would go the right way.
And Fate laughed at him.
"Where is he?"
"He showed up at a free clinic in Kapahulu with a gunshot wound to his thigh half an hour ago. They're keeping him under light sedation until we get there."
The break they'd been waiting for, the news that could led to Danny's rescue, had finally materialized on one of the big screens of the main room. While Steve would've needed the experience and reassuring presence of a man like Chin Ho Kelly on a case like this, he had to acknowledge that his team had worked nonstop to find a clue, well aware that if anything happened to Detective Williams, they would lose two men instead of one.
Lou had ignored all medical advices and signed out AMA just hours after being admitted to the hospital and having the bullet removed, insisting that for a tough Chicago cop like him it was just a scratch and that he could sit on a chair at HQ and be just as fine as he would be lying on a bed. Tani and Junior, despite being new to the team, had fit in extremely well and were proving to be just the right people for the job. And Jerry… Steve had never seen the man's fingers fly so fast on the virtual keyboard.
The group effort had also involved the crime lab, with Danny's nephew Eric taking a leading role. They'd analyzed the prints and the blood found at the scene, dropping everything else and giving the case top priority, until they'd matched it with a local dealer who had recently escaped parole. Cross-referencing the name with all medical care facilities in a ten-block radius of the crime scene had brought the final piece of the puzzle: Bobby Kaleo, a 25-year old living on a trailer park near Ewa Beach, had showed up at the Island Urgent Care Clinic for treatment. Not his brightest idea, as medical personnel is required by law to report gunshot wounds, but criminals aren't always the brightest crayons in the box and Five-0 was grateful for the small miracle.
Tani had rushed to the restroom to give him the good news, her voice and features holding out hope that this would all be a distant memory soon. And Steve had never been more thankful to be surrounded by such loyal, caring people.
He would tell Danny all about it, how they hadn't stopped looking for him. Not once. Not for a second. Because Danny was the heart of the team, and even if they didn't always show it to him, they were all grateful to have him in their lives.
"Alright, let's go talk to him," McGarrett instructed. He started to turn around but stopped and looked back at his team, a faint smile on his face. "Good job, everyone."
Danny had had enough.
He was cranky and frustrated, and fighting the urge to talk back and tell Doyle exactly what he thought about him and his stupid plan every time the man opened his mouth. The whole situation had dragged on too long, and he was itching to put an end to it. Whether he'd do it on his own or with the help of his teammates remained yet to be seen.
Every minute that passed would bring Five-0 one step closer to finding him. Of that, Danny had no doubt. He just needed to stay alive until that happened.
During the last few hours, he'd learned that Doyle's accomplice had fled the scene and gone MIA and that their boss, or whoever they reported to, was not pleased that they'd lost the drugs. He had heard his captor apologize profusely over the phone and promise that he would take care of everything, and wondered if disposing of his dead body was one of the tasks included in the 'everything' part.
The Jersey detective wasn't sure what the rest of Doyle's plan included, but their current hideout at the pier and years of experience told him that he was most likely waiting for instructions on how to proceed. The son of a bitch was proving to be more clever than he'd given him credit for and was covering their tracks pretty well. Still, Danny's faith in his friends never wavered. Each and every one of them would move heaven and earth to get him back to safety. Bonded by an invisible thread, every member of the Five-0 family wouldn't blink twice before willingly putting themselves into a dangerous situation if it meant saving one of their own. Chin and Kono had proven that on many occasions, and the new additions had followed into their predecessors' footsteps as if they'd always belonged there. Steve sure knew how to pick the right people for the job.
Steve, who had hijacked Danny's life eight years ago and turned it upside down. Who had given him a reason other than Grace to call Hawaii home. Who was now such an integral part of his life that he could not even fathom a future in which they weren't side by side, being it on the job, as business partners or just sitting by the ocean. Steve would give his life for Danny in a heartbeat, and the radiation poisoning he was suffering from was proof of that.
His partner, brother, best friend. The stubborn, irritating, self-sacrificing Neanderthal who was undoubtedly out there, wracking himself with guilt, desperate to find him.
Hands zip-tied behind his back, Danny let a small chuckle escape his lips. He really should've learned a few of his partner's ninja tricks over the years. Steve would've incapacitated the man in seconds without even breaking a sweat.
Beside him, Doyle stared at his cell phone as if willing it to ring. A thin film of sweat was sheathing his forehead, and his fingers twitched over the gun still clutched in his hand. He was getting more antsy and displeased by the second, and nervous men were prone to make mistakes. Mistakes that could get themselves killed or cost innocent lives.
Danny Williams had found himself in much more dangerous situations. But as he sat on a stack of crates in the commercial building, watching the guy's every move, he was unable to shake off the feeling of dread that knotted his stomach.
And when his eyes caught movement outside and he recognized his partner's silhouette inching closer to the entrance, he couldn't help the shiver that raced down his spine.
They had him.
It had taken quite a bit of persuasion, but Bobby Kaleo had eventually cracked under the icy stare of Commander McGarrett and told them what they needed to know, including where they were supposed to meet if things went wrong.
Reinvigorated by the new lead and the prospect of stopping Doyle's plan before it went any further, Steve strode out of the clinic and towards the grey Silverado parked haphazardly near the entrance that no one had dared ask him to move. Still wearing his full combat gear — tac vest, thigh holster and gloves, he wasted no time climbing into the driver's seat and turning on the ignition.
Four and a half hours had passed. 270 minutes since his partner had been taken. 16.200 seconds of running himself ragged with fear and uncertainty.
Hands firmly gripping the wheel, right foot itching to press the accelerator, Steve barely allowed Junior to get into the passenger's seat before peeling off the asphalt in the direction of the pier.
Hold on, Danny, I'm coming.
"Jerry, find everything you can about 'Pacific Shipyards'. My guess is it's a front for money laundering and drug distribution. Notify HPD that we're headed to the location and ask for backup. Depending on what we're gonna find in there, we might need their help."
"Copy that, Commander. Be safe."
Steve glanced at the younger SEAL as he listened to Jerry's words. While he had no intention of willingly putting his and Junior's life at risk, he also knew he would do whatever was necessary to get Danny back.
One way or another, this whole mess was going to end soon.
And if luck was on their side they would wrap the case up, call it a day and go out for beers to forget all about it.
"Sir, over here. I got eyes on Detective Williams."
Junior's voice cut through the ear comm device and stopped Steve short in his tracks.
He had decided not to rush in with lights and sirens hoping that their silent approach and ninja skills, as Danny called them, would give them the chance to get as close as possible to plan the extraction. Thermal imaging had confirmed five people inside the warehouse: three on the first floor and two on the north side of the ground floor so the two ex-SEALs had decided to split up and inspect the perimeter.
"Is he okay?" he asked, swallowing the lump in his throat that barely allowed him to let the words out.
"Looks like it, Sir."
"Hold your position and look sharp. I'll complete the recon and meet you there."
"Roger that. Be advised access point on this side is clear."
The Five-0 leader nodded and released a breath. With Junior, it was easy to switch back to military mode. The kid had had his same training. He didn't need explanations, knew what Steve was thinking before he even voiced it and was familiar with how he operated. The decision to offer him a job with the task-force had proved to be a good one. So far.
Droplets of rain kept trailing along his face as he moved, and he blinked to clear his vision. The initial rush of adrenaline that had driven him to the location was now slowly ebbing, replaced by emotions he didn't quite know how to deal with. Something akin to… fear? was slipping once again along the cracks of the wall he'd so carefully built to distance himself from anything that might cause him pain. Because if you allowed yourself to care, to love, you made yourself vulnerable, and vulnerability led to fear, to that core-shaking feeling Steve McGarrett had only experienced a handful of times in his life and that he wished never to go through again.
Danny was okay.
The relief he'd felt at that was enormous. His partner had held his own. Now it was up to him to finish the job.
Burying all those emotions down, deep down where they wouldn't hurt, Steve wiped the water dripping down his forehead and resumed his inspection. The pier was uncharacteristically quiet, Mother Nature's tantrums and the upcoming weekend slowing down most of its usual activities. Nothing seemed out of place. No gun-wielding perps guarding the entrances, no suspicious movements to report. From the outside, everything looked as normal as it should. And the irony of it was, the same thing could be said for the Five-0 Commander.
The moment their eyes met through the dirty glass of a side window, a wave of calmness washed over Steve.
In the few seconds it took to realize that his best friend was really there —alive and relatively unharmed, everything shifted back into place and Navy SEAL McGarrett, the man with the laser-focus gaze and no fear gene, immediately took over.
Danny was sitting on a wooden crate, hands tied behind his back. After reassuring him that he was okay, the blond detective took advantage of their unique ability to talk without words to let his partner know that Doyle was the only bad guy around, at least on that floor, and that whenever he wanted to break in, he was ready.
Steve, careful not to alert Doyle of his presence, replied that he was moving in with another team member, and that each would enter from a different side to converge on his position.
'I'm gonna get you out of here.'
'I know. Be careful.'
'Always.'
After stealing one last glance inside the warehouse, the Five-0 leader instructed his younger recruit to take the back door while he went in from the front. HPD would be there shortly, but he hoped to neutralize Doyle and have the situation under control before they arrived. Two ex-Navy SEALs against a low-grade drug dealer and possibly a few other gunmen. Sounded like a walk in the park.
Rifle at the ready, he looked left and right once again before moving towards the entrance of the building. Once inside, he would have the tactical advantage of not being immediately seen, and was counting on Danny to distract their suspect if necessary.
His heart thumped as he opened the door and peered in. Doyle was standing approximately 20 feet from him, one hand on his hip, the other nervously curled around what he assumed was Danny's gun. Eyes wild, he kept going back and forth and muttering to himself, stopping every couple of steps to point the weapon at his handcuffed partner who was still sitting where he'd last spotted him.
Steve hid behind a stack of crates, his gaze roaming around the main loading area of the warehouse and the metal catwalk leading up to the first floor. In his military and law enforcement career he had chased all kinds of criminals and knew that a cornered, paranoid man could present a bigger challenge than a cold-blooded, calculating killer. He needed to be careful in his approach, or the situation could get out of hand.
"…He thinks he's this big shot, hiding behind his money and all, but I do all the work! Me! And now he's treating me like I'm nothing!" As he got closer, McGarrett started to hear bits of the one-sided conversation. "Just wait, he says. I'll take care of it. And what, am I supposed to just sit here with a fucking cop waiting for the whole cavalry to show up?"
"He's playing you, you know." Danny's voice cut through the man's ramblings. Knowing his partner was there, feeling his presence inside the building had renewed his resolve, and he could no longer contain his frustration. "He's setting you up."
"Shut up!" Doyle snapped, pressing the HKP30's barrel against the detective's neck.
Steve winced as if he could feel the cold metal against his own skin.
"How long's it been, huh?" Danny stared defiantly at him and pressed on. "No one is coming. You kidnap a cop, shoot another one and what, you expect to waltz out of here? And let's not forget the shitload of drugs we found in your possession. He's not going down. You are." As soon as the words left his mouth he knew he'd gone too far, and braced himself as he watched his captor's fist raise and registered the pain in his jaw.
"I said shut the hell up!"
The sudden outburst prompted Steve to come out of his hiding place and reveal his presence. "Five-0! Drop your weapon and put your hands behind your head!"
Doyle jumped, startled by the unexpected presence, but was quick to recover. Grabbing Danny by the collar of his shirt, he forced him to his feet and hooked his arm around the detective's neck, effectively positioning him between himself and Steve's assault rifle. "Back off! Don't come any closer or I'll shoot him!" he yelled, pointing the gun at his captive's head to further prove his point.
Danny gasped, the muscles in his throats twitching for air, but tried to remain as still as possible.
Shit, Steve muttered, realizing he was using his friend as a shield.
"Give it up, Doyle. It's over!" The strength in his voice surprised him, a stark contrast to the fear growing inside of him that was making every little hair on his body stand on edge.
"It's not over until I say so!"
Steve held out one hand in front of his body in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. "Listen… Listen!" he said, making eye contact with Danny and trying his best to reassure him. "HPD's gonna be here soon. We know you're not the one in charge so if you tell us who you work for, we can cut you a deal."
Five-0 already had all the information they needed, but McGarrett figured since Doyle wasn't aware of that he could try and reason with him or distract him just enough to take a shot. As he spoke, he noticed Junior approaching directly across from him and continued to keep Doyle's attention so his teammate could get closer.
"Think about it. Think about your kid. You wanna see him grow up you put the gun down and let my partner go."
At the mention of his son, Doyle become even more enraged. "What do you know about my son? Where is he?" he yelled, increasing the pressure around Danny's throat and eliciting a strangled grunt of pain.
"He's safe!" Steve replied, eyes widening in fear at his partner's discomfort. "He's alright. We can take you to see him," he lied, keeping tracks of Junior's movements but not daring to look at him directly in fear of giving him away.
Doyle eased the pressure off Danny's neck as he seemed to consider the option for a second, and the Jersey detective visibly relaxed, finally able to draw in the air that he needed. But the relief was only momentary.
"You're lying," he stated through gritted teeth. "You all lie. And I'm sick and tired of it!"
Steve's eyes searched Danny's again.
'Get ready.'
'I'm ready.'
'I'm gonna need a diversion.'
'You got it.'
He gripped his weapon with both hands, ready to fire.
When lives are on the line, split-second decisions are all you can rely on. But sometimes Fate runs interference, selecting a different outcome for the plans our minds carefully craft. A discarded object on the floor can disrupt a young man's efforts to remain unnoticed and a sudden, uncontrolled movement can alter the course of a bullet and make a difference between life, death and…pain.
A bullet that would've hit its target with the utmost precision had Doyle not shifted to the right, turning around at the sudden noise behind him and putting Danny directly in the line of fire just as Steve's finger squeezed the trigger.
The ex-SEAL's eyes grew wide as he realized where his perfectly calculated shot would hit and a desperate yet futile warning tore from his throat. The devastation he had felt months before when he thought he'd accidentally shot an HPD officer was nothing compared to the gut-wrenching feeling that stole his breath and stilled his heart as he saw Danny's body jerk backwards and fall to the ground, a mix of shock and bewilderment on his face.
With one last shred of lucidity Steve fired a second shot, this time hitting his target dead center on the forehead.
Then his whole world crumbled.
TBC