A/N: Thank you so much for the overwhelming kind reviews to "B is for Barbecue." I sincerely hope I didn't miss anyone in my replies. So, again, I thank you. As a side-note, my prayers go out to everyone on the east coast preparing for Hurricane Irene.

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C is for Crash
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"This is a bad idea."

"Enough comments from the peanut gallery."

"I am not a peanut gallery. Would you slow down?"

"Slowing down would defeat the purpose, Danny."

"And what purpose is that? Getting us killed?"

"No, apprehending the suspect."

"Which we will be unable to do if we are dead!"

"Would you relax?"

"I can't relax – truck! – when you are driving like a maniac!"

"Look, I didn't think he'd take off like this. This isn't my fault!"

"Of course it is your fault!" Danny screamed, gripping the door handle as Steve took another sharp turn.

They'd been chasing Jeremiah Kelley and his associate for nearly ten minutes, finally getting out of suburban traffic and into a more remote area of the island. Of course, that fact did little to calm Danny's nerves as his knuckles began to throb from gripping the handle so hard.

"What made you think that Kelley – a man convicted several times of grand theft auto, not to mention multiple petty misdemeanors for drag racing, I might add – wouldn't drive off?"

"It just didn't cross my mind, Danny, okay?"

"Of course it didn't," Danny mumbled.

"I'm going to pull up along side."

"Got it," Danny said, no further explanation needed. He lowered his window and pulled out his gun. "Ready."

Steve veered the Camaro to the left and gunned the accelerator, causing the car to surge forward. Danny leaned his arm out the window, taking careful aim, and fired two shots toward the rear tire of the lead car.

"Damn," he cursed, pulling his arm back in as the car bounced over the road.

"I'll try to get us closer."

Steve swerved the car up and over a grassy bank to the left, leaving the two-lane dirt thoroughfare to opt for the service road that was hugging the perimeter of an abandoned warehouse. The paved surface allowed for better handling and for a much higher speed, much to Danny's dismay. As Steve pulled the car forward and parallel to the suspect's vehicle, several gunshots rang out. Only this time it wasn't the Five-0 detective firing.

Danny instinctively ducked down as the bullets whizzed at and into the Camaro. Steve yanked the steering wheel left but didn't let up on the gas as the blue sedan they were chasing suddenly drove up and over the grassy bank to ram into the side of the Camaro. Danny risked straightening back up to fire a few shots off before slouching back down as Kelley's associate returned fire.

Several rounds embedded into the silver car and Danny heard Steve swear under his breath as the car suddenly jerked to the left. There was no time to react as the car blasted through the warped siding of the warehouse. The car lurched to a sudden screeching halt as it slammed into an inner concrete half-wall. Driver and passenger were thrust forward, and Danny's head bashed into the dash and then whipped back against the seat.

Sparks erupted in Danny's vision and he blinked rapidly through the throbbing pain in his head. To his left, he could hear Steve fumbling around in the driver's seat, but Danny could not get his eyes to work right. In what seemed like an instant, Steve was opening the passenger side door and gently lowering Danny down to the hard floor, propping him up so he was leaning against the Camaro.

"Why th' hell d-didnn th' air…bags d-deployy?" Danny asked through clenched teeth, fighting through the pain of his head, and alarmed at how badly he was slurring his words.

"Must've been damaged in the firefight."

"Or the buildin' you jus' drrrove us through…"

"Or that," Steve acknowledged as he checked Danny for injuries.

"St…stop it," Danny whined as Steve prodded his rib cage. "M fine. What happened?"

"We crashed."

"Wow… really?"

"Don't get worked up," Steve scolded. "They shot out both front tires. I couldn't control where the car went after that."

"I am not… not worked up," Danny stuttered, still trying to get the room to stop spinning. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the Camaro. Thankfully Steve's poking and prodding stopped and he was quiet, allowing Danny to get his bearings.

"It's a lovely place," Danny remarked sarcastically, opening his eyes again to see Steve looking at him. "Smells like a shhhit house door off a… a tuna boat."

"I'm sorry that I couldn't find a nicer place for us to crash," Steve shot back, straightening up slightly to look somewhere beyond the Camaro. "Shall I go back and try again?"

"No, no. There will not be an again… ever again. Your driving privileges… are hereby revoked."

Steve actually had the gall to look hurt at that comment.

"Don't… give me that look. Ever sssince I met you, I can count on one hand how many times I've been able to drive my own car. And it would take a freakin'… nummmerical algorithm to count how many times my Camaro has been damaged with you behind th' wheel. Do you have any idea the amount of insurance I'm forced to carry on this thing?"

Danny shook his head, but the movement only caused his head to hurt more and he closed his eyes.

"Keep talking, Danny. Your speech is getting better. You're slurring less."

Steve's matter-of-fact tone only pissed Danny off more.

"Shhut up. Effective immediately, you," he paused to point over in Steve's general direction, "are on probation."

"Probation?"

"Yes. Probation. Driving probation."

"Okay," Steve said tentatively, shooting another glance over the hood of the Camaro. "And how does one get off this probation?"

There was a moment's silence as Danny rubbed his temples with his hands.

"That has yet to be determined… but groveling may be involved. And why do you keep lookin' over there?" Danny asked, pointing vaguely over his shoulder.

"I thought I saw some movement."

"Move… ment?" Danny asked, shifting his body around so he could get a look around. He winced and Steve put a hand on his shoulder.

"It was probably nothing," Steve stated unconvincingly.

"Liar."

Danny's accusation was drowned out by several gunshots pinging off the Camaro. Danny did his best to crouch low as Steve popped off a few rounds and ducked back down behind the car.

"It's Kelley," Steve reported in between shots.

"And his pal," Danny finished, looking around for his weapon. "Where's my gun?"

Steve emptied his clip with three more rounds, reloaded and then shot off another volley.

"Steve! Gun!"

Steve hesitated, apparently assessing Danny's condition, before he finally maneuvered around Danny to reach into the Camaro. Steve found where Danny's piece had fallen to the floorboard and handed over the gun before taking up position by the hood of the car. Danny checked how many rounds he had left before clicking the clip back into place. He tried to stand, but a fresh wave of pain prevented him from moving and he sagged back down.

"Shhhiit," he gasped.

"Listen," Steve said, leaning in close to Danny and lowering his voice. "Here are some extra clips. I'll go around, try to draw their fire and catch them off-guard. You stay here, and don't let them get past you."

"I've literally got stars circling my head, Steven. I'm not going to know what I'm shooting at."

"Shoot at anything that moves. Except me."

Danny rolled his eyes.

"Really? This …this is your brilliant plan? Hand a gun to the concussed man… whose car you jus' totaled, by the way… and tell him not to shoot you?"

Steve shrugged as he cocked his weapon.

"It could be worse."

"I suppose," Danny pondered. "It could be me running around like an idiot."

"Exactly," Steve said as he smiled.

"So in this plan of yours, I do nothing?"

"No, you can call for backup," Steve whispered before he ran off at a low crouch.

"Call for backup," Danny mumbled, fumbling around to locate his cell phone. Punching in the correct numbers was another feat in itself, but he managed to reach Chin, and he and Kono were twenty minutes out.

Taking a deep breath, Danny managed to get on his knees and scoot himself around to the rear of the Camaro. He didn't have to wait long for Steve to make his move. The former SEAL leapt out from behind the half wall the Camaro rested against and fired off several rounds as he ran.

Danny squinted, trying to see what he was shooting at, but the sun pouring in from the Camaro-shaped hole in the wall did little to help illuminate the building, and he only saw a large, dark void of nothing. Danny hoisted himself up to a half-stance, using the trunk of the car for support, waiting for the flash of return fire to give him some sort of clue where to shoot.

Several agonizing seconds went by before Danny saw movement to his right. It was small, but something reflective was dancing off the sunlight. He adjusted his aim slightly, waiting to confirm the identity of the person moving in the shadows before taking a shot in the dark… literally. Sun reflected off the weapon the person was holding again and Danny saw it flash at him just in time to duck as several bullets whizzed toward him. He dropped to one knee as they slammed into the rear window of the Camaro, glass shattering everywhere.

Another gunshot rang out and then silence. Danny waited a moment, and then he slowly peered up and over the car. There was nothing. No shooter, no body.

Not to mention no Steve. Where had he gone?

Danny sensed, rather than saw, movement behind him. He swung around a little too fast, and his vision once again went fuzzy. Regardless, he pulled up his weapon and aimed at the man before him. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, a gunshot rang out and the man fell to the ground in a heap.

Danny blinked and saw Steve in position where the other man once stood, bending down to check the man's pulse before standing again to holster his weapon.

Frustrated at his own lack of involvement in the firefight, but relieved that Steve was okay, Danny sighed and felt his legs buckle beneath him. Steve was at his side in an instant, his hands gripping Danny's arms tightly, preventing him from dropping to the ground.

"Did you even fire once?" Steve inquired.

"No need with Super SEAL for a partner."

Steve laughed as he helped Danny lower himself back down.

"You okay?"

Danny huffed.

"Do I look okay? My car is wrecked. My head is about to implode. And my partner thinks running straight at the men with guns is a good idea."

"I agree it was a little risky," Steve acceded. "But it was an acceptable risk."

"What exactly is your definition of acceptable?" Danny asked incredulously. "Clearly my car has little value to you. What about me, huh?"

"Danno…"

"Don't Danno me… ya lunatic."

"I would never put you in harm's way… intentionally put you in harm's way," he clarified after seeing the murderous look on Danny's face.

"Mmm hmmm," was all Danny was able to get out. His head hurt and he found it difficult to keep his eyes open.

"Danny, stay with me, man."

"No where to go," Danny mumbled, closing his eyes. "Got no car."

"It's just a car!"

Danny peeked one eye open to glare at his partner.

"It's not just a car, Steven. It is… my car. Mine. I don't have much that I can say is mine. But that Camaro? I own it."

Steve sighed.

"I'll get your car fixed, okay?"

Danny gave Steve a slight nod before shutting his eyes again, the sound of sirens blaring in the distance, signaling Chin and Kono's arrival.

"Yes, you will. We'll call it step one of your probation process."

"And how many steps will there be in this process?"

Danny didn't respond right away, contemplating how mad he really was at McGarrett for crashing his car. Steve did just single-handedly take down Kelley and his pal. He supposed that had to count for something.

"Still measuring, babe. Still measuring."