A/N: Thanks for the well wishes and condolences. Also, thank you for the favorites, follows, and reviews. It's very much appreciated.


After entering one of the large open doors of the storage facility, Danny walked across the area on the lower level that appeared to be a typical parking garage for storing cars, boats, and larger items. Many of the spots were taken, but most were still unused in this newer facility. He saw the enclosed area, labeled as the office, in the back corner. He tried and found the sturdy door leading into the office to be locked, but a wire-reinforced glass window allowed him to see a young Polynesian holding up his finger as he walked a few steps behind the counter and reached to what Danny assumed was a switch to allow him entry. Sure enough, he heard the buzz and click and he was able to open the door and enter.

"You, uh, don't make it too inviting to new customers," Danny said as he twisted back toward the door and gestured with his open hand.

"Bad area of town, brah. Can't be too careful. This way I can be in charge of who's coming and going."

"Uh huh, I see. Guess I made the non-riffraff list and you mean 'who's coming', right?"

"Sure, right… right," the man answered awkwardly.

"Detective Danny Williams with Five-0."

The young man's eyes shot to Danny's badge and gun. "What can I help you with?"

Danny sensed the man's nervousness. "Yeah, I heard you're renting a unit to a Huston Barrister? I need to find out when he contracted with you. You got those records?"

"Yeah, okay, let me go check in my files. I'll be right back."

"Hey, you okay?" Danny asked. The clerk stopped and turned to Danny before opening the door behind the counter that led to another unseen room.

"I'm fine, officer."

"Detective," Danny corrected.

"Sorry… Detective. S'all good."

"I may need to get into the unit also," Danny said as an afterthought.

The man smiled insincerely and nodded as he disappeared through the door.

Danny displayed a curious but accepting frown as he took note of the unused computer sitting on the counter. He leaned against the counter with one arm resting on top as he turned to study his surroundings while he waited. He noticed the security camera hanging from the ceiling in the far corner behind him and thought whoever had put it there wasn't that wise as it would get a great shot of the back of a person's head. He smirked directly at the camera and fluttered his fingers as a condescending wave to whoever may ever see the footage. He then looked through the door's window thinking he may see Steve approaching after finishing his call, but he wasn't there, and he couldn't see his car from where the office was positioned.

He looked back to the door that the worker had just gone into wondering what was taking so long and then noticed a large filing cabinet sitting in the corner to the right of the door that would be a perfect place to keep business records. That's odd. After a few restless taps to the top of the counter, he began to pace. His impatience turned into an uneasy feeling.

Danny had just made up his mind to follow the clerk into the other room when he heard and saw that door open. He expected to see the man come in with the records he requested but instead a small cylindrical metal cannister flew through the air and fell to the floor in front of him. It immediately started making a hissing sound followed by a visible emission of a cloud of some kind of gas.

"What the hell." Danny put the crook of his arm over his face and ran behind the counter to the door that had just slammed closed. It was locked. A few rams of his shoulder into the door got him nowhere. "Hey!" He began coughing. "Hey!" *cough* "Open up!" *cough*cough* It became clear his attempt at preventing the inhalation of the toxin was pointless and he dropped his arm to aid in his escape. He instinctively made his way back to the office's entry door. He found it to be locked as well. His lungs and throat began to burn and he could no longer control his coughing fit. His vision became blurry, made even worse by the cloud of gas that filled the room.

He pulled his gun and tried shooting the lock, knowing the window would not be an option with the crisscrossed reinforcement blocking the way. The sting of the ricochet was barely noticeable as his most necessary goal was to get fresh air into his lungs. The door wouldn't budge. The shot was either unsuccessful, or he had missed it completely in the less-than-ideal conditions. He decided against another attempt.

The room was almost fully inundated with the gas when he recalled the switch. He managed to get back behind the counter and began to feel for the button since he could no longer see through the combination of the haze in the air and his blurred vision. Just as the debilitating effects of the gas were about to take him out, his hand found the switch.

He rounded the corner of the counter but dropped to one knee as the coughing turned into a wheezing and gasping for air. His eyes were watering and his attempt to yell out to Steve or anyone that may hear him died in his throat. One last attempt to stand, or even crawl, to his escape failed and he hit the floor just feet from the door. The buzz and click of the door unlocking was the last thing he heard as he remembered, he's 'in charge of who's going'.

~~~~~H50~~~~~

For several minutes, Steve drove, taking each on-ramp and exit, making each turn as instructed. He maintained a tight grip on the steering wheel to focus his energy into something that shouldn't get him in trouble. A vague, indistinct fury smoldered beneath the surface of the leader of the Five-0 task force. He was responsible for his team and right now he had no idea of the status of his second in command, his partner, but more than that, his best friend. He knew what he had been told, but without confirmation, he would not accept it. Still, the obscure emotional conflict between hope and doubt waged on.

He didn't want his increasingly audible, deep nasal breaths to be taken as a threat, so he consciously switched to the more controllable, quieter alternative of breathing through his open mouth.

He had tamped down the urge three times before but couldn't resist on the fourth impulse. "So, are you going to tell me, or what?" He lifted his fingers inquisitively, maintaining control of the wheel with the heel and sides of his hands. The unexpected movement brought another quick reaction from the still unidentified, disapproving man.

"Hands on the wheel!"

"'kay. Everything's cool, man." Steve regained control with a tight grip.

"Tell you what?"

"What's going on here? Who you are? Where're we going?"

"Not yet."

"Okay." Steve accepted the answer for now with a slight nod. The 'yet' implied an answer would be forthcoming. So, he'd bide his time and wait.

As they pulled up to the docks, two sleek black sedans were awaiting their arrival. Two men casually stepped out of one of the cars. One was seen rebuttoning his suit jacket. The other joined him on the same side of the car, opened the rear door, and removed a small pistol from a shoulder holster. He crossed his empty hand over the wrist of the hand holding the gun, pointing it toward the ground as they waited.

Steve slowed and stopped the Camaro. Without bothering to look over to his passenger, he mulishly tilted his head to the side to receive the next instruction.

"Turn it off, leave the keys, and get out… carefully."

Steve didn't hesitate. In fact, what he wanted to do was get out of the car and possibly get a chance at taking these guys out. Breaking each neck, one at a time, was not an unpleasant thought. He closed the car door and analyzed the situation. There were two other men sitting in the other black car, facing in their direction. The windows of both cars were darkened with a deep tint and Steve couldn't tell much about them except that they were wearing sunglasses and dark suits.

Two inside a car, two standing outside a car, and his passenger… five total… not great, but doable, given the right opportunity. His eyes scanned the area, at the shipping containers and moving equipment, and found it odd that at this time of day, in the middle of a work week, there were seemingly no other souls around.

"Alright, guys, now what?"

One of the two men that waited outside of the car walked behind Steve as he earnestly searched for his own offensive opportunity. The man that had accompanied and directed him to this deserted location, sensed the desperate itch emanating from Steve and prominently presented his weapon as a 'stand down' reminder. Steve felt his hands being pulled behind him and held as a cable tie was tightened around his wrists. His 'right opportunity' didn't evolve.

The same man that bound his hands, gently touched the back of his shoulder, urging him forward to the open door and back seat of one of the sedans. "Get in."

He did and 'Pacino' took up the same position beside him as before, as the other two got in the front. The car pulled away and Steve could see the other car move to follow. Steve watched as they passed the abandoned Camaro and left the shipping docks.


~to be continued~

\,,,/