I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
Note: Hugs all! I am going to be behind in responding to your reviews. But I shall! thank you for all of them so far.
H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O
Steve wasn't sure where Danny was - he wasn't chanting the Mets lineup. He wasn't mumbling about Grace or Charlie or what he was going to do to Steve for getting him into such a mess in the first place. After he stopped Danny from crawling across the rocks. Well, after Danny had asked that one barely discernible question which only had managed to communicate his disbelief at seeing the ocean, Danny hadn't done or said another damned thing. And if Steve had learned one thing during all his time with Danny, a quiet Williams wasn't a good sign at all. The evidence in front of him and lack of clarity in Danny's eyes also smelled too much like a very real shock to Steve and he needed to pull Danny back before he lost him entirely.
"Shit ... easy. Take it easy," Steve said as his partner fought him, causing a sharp pain to flare through his side. Doggedly, Steve hung on to him, his own speech non-stop.
"Danny? Talk to me ... are you all right?" He asked and wanted to hear some kind of response other than the odd whine and hitch in his friend's breathing. Nothing. This was all kinds of bad because all he knew was that Danny was well on his way to hyperventilating and there wasn't too much he could do about it.
"How are you doing?" He'd asked that stupid question so many times, Steve had lost count. He asked it now anyway hoping his voice would bring Danny back to the present. A still dodgy situation to be sure, but a whole sight better than where they'd just been. When Danny had snapped at him last for asking how he'd been holding up, Steve had stopped for a time and just hunkered down and crawled on. Moving as quickly as he could with only a mental map and his natural sense of direction, he'd aimed them towards the sea. He'd ignored other narrow side routes; those barely other tunnels that branched out to only god knew where. He'd kept his own doubts to himself and made decisions - and he'd miraculously won their freedom. He'd done it but been stressed beyond measure, wondering how his partner was faring behind him. Knowing that Danny was suffering and terrified that he'd stop - give up - and that when he, Steve, made it out, Danny simply wouldn't be on his heels.
Unable to see his partner at all, incapable of hearing him? Those things had made Steve hurry along. The sooner he got them out of the tunnels, the sooner he'd be able to see how Danny was doing for himself.
"You have to look at me, Danno," Steve demanded. "Say something!"
As he held Danny in his arms now though, new doubts appeared. Maybe he'd done the wrong thing back inside. Just maybe Steve shouldn't have shut his damned mouth. Maybe he should have goaded his partner more ... kept him talking ... made him fight and argue back ... because this was completely unacceptable.
Maybe ... other decisions should have been made in the first place. "Not true," Steve muttered under his breath. He killed the voice in his own head that snidely reminded him that he probably should have let their perp go in the first place; avoided this situation entirely. That way ... no ... no! Steve's emotions surged and he firmly doused them. Going there served no purpose at all. Besides, why the hell had Danny followed him then?
Steve knuckled his forehead, breathing hard as he looked down into Danny's dirt-smeared and bruised face. The streaks of blood on his lip. Steve shook his head, at a loss. What the hell was wrong with him now? His thinking was off, he wasn't being fair and he needed to focus.
"Danny? How ... how are you doing?" He was asking out of habit now. Rambling like an idiot. He felt helpless and knew it was a stupid, stupid question. He could easily see how Danny was and it definitely wasn't good. While his partner had thankfully stayed on his heels, Steve was clueless as to how he'd done it based on Danny's current state.
"Come on ... come on." Tight-lipped, Steve stared into Danny's wan face feeling every shudder that was rippling non-stop through his partner's body. Other than that first nearly indiscernible question after Steve had been forced to wrap his arms around him to keep him from ... crawling ... across the volcanic out-cropping, he hadn't spoken another word; he hadn't responded to Steve at all. Adding insult to injury, he was on the cusp of hyperventilating, his chest jerking as his body tried to make itself just breathe.
"Feel that ... it's great. It's great, right?" He gave Danny a small shake. It was all the physical proof Danny should have needed. Steve welcomed the ocean air and the sting of water as it buffeted him now. The bigger than life forces of nature hitting the rocky cliffside were an astronomical difference as compared to the heavy obtrusive silence of the tunnels. It dried his sweat and refreshed his heat-riddled skin. The coldness of the air, the brisk spray of the salt water… those differences should have smacked Danny square between the eyes to shake him aware and yet, it seemed the opposite had happened. With his gaze blindly locked on the storm surge, he'd completely checked out.
"Hey? Are you hurt?" Steve asked feeling more desperate as he tried to get his partner to focus on him instead. "Anywhere? Anything?" He did a cursory exam of Danny's arms and legs, finding nothing of note. "Hey, buddy. It's over ... you know that right?" His hopes soared when Danny's lips finally moved, but it was a soundless parody for a man that rarely shut up.
"Hey!" Steve's hesitant smile fell away. He pawed a dirt-encrusted hand through his matted hair, sending particles of dirt and even small pebbles in all directions. To say that he was proud of Danny for getting all the way through the old tunnel system dug beneath the old WW2 bunker was an understatement. He wasn't proud of himself though. That inner voice was right. He'd made a bad call that day. A decision which was his alone to shoulder. He was the one accountable for everything that had gone wrong when he should have let the whole damned thing go. Not only had they lost their man, Steve had virtually led himself and his partner into an impossible situation.
"You're good," Steve repeated even if it was partly one of the biggest lies that had ever come out of his mouth. "Look at me ... it's over. Almost."
He muttered that last word under his breath as his gaze skittered over their rocky perch. He had a rough idea where they were inside his head and it was still far from optimal. If their perp had made it out, he'd either gone into the rough waters or was still trying to make his way across miles of volcanic rock. Right then, Steve wasn't too sure he cared.
He grunted as he repositioned his upper body, pausing to look down at himself, trying to control his own ragged breathing. He tried to examine his skin, hissing in pain at the lightest of touches. The bullet had hit him just below his tac-vest, low on his side and just above his hip bone. He hadn't thought it anything more than a heavy crease until they'd been forced to remove their protective vests below ground in order to fit through the ever-narrowing tunnel. Ruefully, no guiltily, Steve knew that was when he'd begun to lose Danny's focus.
That was also when he'd realized his wound was more than a simple crease. Blood had seeped into his shirt at a steady rate; and the bullet was still lodged inside him. Somewhere.
"Danny? Come on, man," he whispered as he re-focused on his partner's face. "You're good ... you're fine." Physically, that was true. Steve couldn't find much more than a few scrapes and bruises on Danny's body. If there had to be some good news besides getting out of the old tunnel system in one piece, Steve was glad for that. In reality, Danny was far from being really good though and congratulating the man on this major achievement in surmounting his claustrophobia would certainly be premature. The fallout was severe. Steve got it; he sure did. But as blood seeped out from the bullet wound in his own side, its hot ache relentless, he needed Danny functioning sooner rather than later.
Taking a firm hold of the front of Danny's shirt, Steve yanked hard to right Danny's upper body. He choked down the pain and surge of nausea he caused himself.
"Hey! You're good, Danny. Sit up," he demanded, opting to go the tough love route. "Listen to me. I'm sending you for help and you have to go now."
With a keen eye towards the horizon, Steve noted that the sun had already gone below the cusp. In the distance, miles away, the water was cast with a fuchsia- hue. The deep color nearly defied nature and was almost riveting, but there wasn't time to enjoy it. Not now. Not here. Steve shivered as his over-heated body began to argue the cooler affects of the strong offshore breezes. What at first had felt insanely refreshing was changing. Mere minutes later and coupled with the cold spray from the waves and a bad wound, that feeling had begun to devolve into an uncomfortable and very sickly chill.
"Hey! Look at me!" Steve shouted as another shiver sent a sharp spike of pain into his lower back. Head bowed, Steve panted heavily, riding it out. Don't move; he couldn't risk moving so much. But valuable time was being wasted as Danny's head lolled on his neck and he sat there, saying nothing.
"If you skirt the shore line, you can find your way up. Get a signal. Call for help," Steve grated out between clenched teeth while he literally frisked Danny to make sure he still had his cell phone. "Where's your phone Danno? Where is it?" He'd lost his own somewhere underground and heaved a sigh of relief when his hand connected with the familiar shape, then his spare weapon.
They were both armed. They could probably communicate with the outside world ... if the cell worked. If they had a signal. Using one hand, Steve found the device shoved down the front of Danny's shirt. He pulled it out, holding his breath until he confirmed it was more than half charged. More good news despite the lack of signal as he'd suspected.
"I'm not walking out of here, Danno. You are. So you need to get your shit together and get moving. Copy that?"
Steve's fist was thick in the fabric of Danny's shirt and he twisted it roughly getting leverage before giving Danny a harder shake. "I took a hit, Danno. The bullet ... it's still inside. You hear me?" He stopped talking when Danny's brow creased heavily. His eyes flickered from Steve's face to his torso and his mouth gaped wide. His expression changed just enough to indicate he was coming back and Steve's smile dared to return.
"Did you hear me?" Steve pressed harder. "Hey!" He shook him again until Danny finally jerked a sketchy nod. "You've got to get out of here! Do you understand what I'm saying? Talk to me!"
"Y-yeah," Danny stuttered badly. His teeth audibly clacked together. His mouth moved and finally formed real words. "Y-you're hit? H-how ... how bad? S-steve?" He blinked rapidly and reached out, his hands fumbling to lift Steve's shirt up.
"Bad," Steve stated with conviction, retching when Danny found the wound only to press his palm firmly to it. "D-Danno ... I... shit ..." Steve briefly whited out as Danny increased the pressure. A necessary action, but far more painful than Steve had anticipated. He rallied though with a growl of anger, determined to push the pain away. Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, Steve gave Danny one last shake and then pulled him closer.
"Get your shit together and get moving, partner. I need you up and working," Steve's voice was hoarse as he tugged Danny so close, that they were nearly nose to nose. "Go ... take your phone. Take your weapon. Follow the shore line south."
"S-stop the bleeding f-first," Danny stammered at the same time he pulled out of Steve's hands to balance awkwardly on his knees. His upper body swayed and he shakily swiped at his face with the back of one hand. But then he was stripping off his shirt, followed by his belt. He tore the hem with the help of his teeth, even as his breathing continually whined inside his chest with every inhale. One, two and then three long strips of material were soon being folded into makeshift bandages and layered one on top of the other into the wound.
"Filthy ... it's damned filthy," Danny groused as he packed the entry wound because he had no choice. At minimum, he had to try and slow Steve's blood loss. "E-every damned mic-microbe in Hawaii is making a home in there. D-don't think I don't listen to the news either. A-after a storm, run-off can be bad ... I know. I listen."
Steve's lips twitched upwards as the lame excuse for a rant picked up a bit of steam. He watched Danny's face, recognizing the stubborn set to his jaw. The way his teeth were gritted in determination. Danny was gaining ground now, his voice more steady as he shook off his personal horrors and happily complained. All of it, music to Steve's ears.
"This is gonna hurt ... ," Danny rasped as he fed his belt around Steve's waist, readying to fasten it tightly in the front. "R-ready?"
Steve didn't say a word; he just nodded. None of the things which Danny had done so far hadn't hurt. He was sure he'd already survived the worst of it though. But as the belt followed the makeshift bandages, Steve was proven wrong when Danny cinched the whole works around his middle.
"Danny," Steve whispered thickly as his head sagged to his chest and his peripheral vision began to quite literally, blacken. "Killin' me here. Easy." He gagged, struggling as nausea twisted his stomach.
"Again," Danny warned him a second before he tightened the belt another notch, apologizing the entire time. "Sorry ... sorry. Hold on." Grunting through the flare of pain, Steve had to close his eyes. Danny's voice became a buzz of white noise in his head. He missed words and questions as he fought merely to breathe.
"Steve?" Danny's tone was softer and fraught with worry for him. "You okay? Steve?"
"Yeah, here," Steve murmured as he cracked his eyes open and looked down at himself. The makeshift bandage was tidy and neat, barring the dirt of course. Danny had even managed to shrug back into his ruined shirt. He looked ridiculous with the uneven tatters barely hitting his ribcage. All of it was the best they'd be able to do with the limited tools at hand. It was good enough and Steve nodded. He tried to smile.
"S'good," he murmured. With a sigh, he rocked his head back, resting against the uncomfortable surface behind him. He needed to rest a bit. Just for a few minutes. "M'sorry, Danny. You've got to go though."
How the hell had all of this happened? It made no sense. None of it. Forcing his eyes open again was a chore. Danny's face was a blurry haze of whites and creams as he balanced there in front of him and Steve groped for his hand. When he found it, he tried to apologize.
"I'm sorry ... I didn't think ..."
"Not now. Which way?" Danny asked softly. He gave Steve's hand a gentle squeeze, a half-apology for needing to interrupt him. But that hand was shaking badly, vibrating at an almost scary rate.
"Danno?" Steve looked at him sharply, aware that Danny was with him but still working through issues of his own.
"I'm fine ... later. We'll deal with all of this later," Danny said. He paused though, struggling through a few deep breaths; unable to chance a glance towards the small cave-like opening they'd crawled through. Steve followed his line of sight. The hole ... because that's what it was ... not even a proper cave ... was black as coal. Ominous looking. If you didn't know it was there, you'd easily miss it.
Danny coughed and then choked. That audible wheeze was still in his chest and the sound was frightening. For them, the depths of that hole were far too obvious. They both knew exactly where it was - what was inside - and as Steve looked back to Danny, he saw that Danny was swallowing convulsively and distressingly pale.
"Danny ... you're okay," Steve said. "You are ... you got this. Get moving. Go."
"Sure," Danny grunted the word and then tried to grin, failing miserably. "I'm fine. Peachy, in fact."
Steve barked a short laugh at the choice of word and promptly groaned in pain. He shouldn't have done that and he scrabbled for Danny's hand, their fingers interlocked as pain flared again around his middle. "Go," he whispered when he could find his voice.
"Steve? South?" Danny prodded him, his tone urgent. "You said south?" He had moved closer to plant one hand on Steve's chest, warm fingers splayed wide. With eyes that were still too big and far too glassy, Danny might not have been firing on all cylinders, but he was crouched now. Balanced on the balls of his feet and ready to move.
"South... yeah," Steve grunted the word out. He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath, weakly pointing in the direction. "That way ... a little over a click. Work your way up the cliff if you need to. You should get a signal easy."
"A click ...right. Perfect," Danny scoffed. "Never mind... Sit tight. The bleeding's nearly stopped. Don't move."
"Copy that. Not m-moving,' Steve whispered tiredly.
"I'll be back," Danny promised as he got to his feet, far steadier than Steve might have expected. "I'll be back ... "
"I know you will," Steve whispered as he watched Danny's back recede into the dusky shadows. "Be careful," he murmured just before his eyes fluttered shut.
~ to be continued ~