Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-0.

I'm sorry it took me so long to update, but here's the next chapter.

Have fun reading it and review please! :)

H50

He suddenly felt something poking in his stomach, grasping his shirt and digging itself deep into his flesh. He opened his eyes and needed a few seconds before he realized it was a lot of darker outside (had he really been falling asleep? He had to punish himself later for being that reckless) and that 'something' was Danny, who was waking up on him.

"Danny?"

No answer, but further movement and a he sensed his friend attempting to push himself up.

"Danny, stop it!" Not only the Jersey was risking his own health, but Danny was also forcing down his upper body and it wasn't exactly comforting.

"Uhhhh?" Till this moment he didn't notice he could hear again, although it was like through a fat cotton-wool packed into his ear.

"Steven?"

"Danny?"

The cop unstrapped his eyes and though everything was a blur, he recognized his boss' stomach and he noticed he had a huge headac… wait, wait, wait - that meant - he was resting on him, on his boss, on Steve?

But when he was about to change that embarrassing situation the world turned somersaults and his stomach flip-flopped, ready to empty itself.

"I think 'm… goin' t' puke on ya."

Steve's eyes went wide and he practically begged, "shut your eyes and keep still." Danny did as he was told to and squeezed his eyes shut, just as his lips went into a flat line. After a few minutes the nausea settled down and he dared to peel his eyes open again.

"Why … why am I lying on ya?"

"I was always hot on you sleeping on me, Danno. What do you think? I tried to save you."

Danny laughed, "'Tried' fits", set his hands firmly onto Steve's abdomen, wanting to get up again.

"Hey! Do not move! What's so hard to understand with that?" The SEAL coughed.

"Steve, I'm - I don't want to lie on ya."

"Um, what about I do not either, but I don't care about it?"

Ignoring Steve's objection, he raised his head, but let it fall down again as the hot pain in his head increased.

"Good, you won. F'r now at leas'. Wha' happ'ned anyway?" he asked, already being sure it had something to do with Steve's kind of driving because he was always too fast and ignoring the traffic laws, unless himself. He was riding conscientiously and he did not lead people to throw up on the sidewalk when they left his car. And he never…

"You wanted to drive me home and well, shit happens. I always told you I'm drivin' better than you."

WHAT? That was clearly irrational and since when was Steve not steering his car?

"How bad are you hurt?" Steve demanded, sniffling loudly and as Danny opened his eyes once again, he could see him turning his head to the right and just when the Jersey wanted to ask what the hell he was doing a gigantic sneeze, what, with no doubt, could have woken the dead, was forced out. Uhhhh, with that look on his face it must've hurt him- but why in hell was he sneezing? He never, ever saw Steve McGarrett… …

Ohhhh, right, Steve's sick. Now he could remember why the Commander wasn't driving.

The taller man's head rotated back and he blinked a few times as his vision darkened and then he noticed Danny was right staring at him with wide eyes.

"What?" he dared to ask a few seconds later when Danny had made no attempt to say something.

"You are sick."

There was a hint of uncertainness behind his words, but above all his voice was covered in disbelief and … worry?

"No, it's okay, I'm already feeling better, you know, accidents have that affect on me." He cleared his throat after his sarcastic statement and sniffed once more, hauling his right hand to wipe over his runny nose.

"Well, I guess, we have to, um, get out of the car, you know? And can you, um, well, smell anything out of order?"

First Danny wanted to protest that he could smell himself, but then he would have liked to slap himself for that dumb thought. He rose his nose and took in a few breathes.

"I think … what the…? Is … is that barf?"

Steve's face immediately reddened and he scratched his neck, muttering, "yeah, about that … sorry. But um, originally, I thought something like gas?"

He saw Danny's head shaking in no and he calmed down a bit, but there could still be the possibility of an explosion so they had to get out of the car now.

"You think you could get up after all?"

Danny chuckled dryly, even though there was nothing, really nothing, to laugh at in their situation. "NO, Steve! I, I mean, we were in a car accident, a fuckin' car accident and our car, my car rolled over and, and we're lying on the top of my car now, and, no, you are lying on the top of my car, I'm lying on you on the top of my car."

He took a breath, squeezing his eyes shut as if believing when he opened them again he recognized he only had a nightmare.

But nothing like that happened.

Steve thought his friend was going to have a nervous breakdown or so, but Danny held it together, thinking of the pain Steve probably went through as he wanted to save him.

"Sorry," he whispered and sniffed wetly, "yeah… I, I can get up. But before that's going to happen I want to know where you are hurt. I guess you already checked me over and the only thing what's aching now is my head. So c'mon, superman, tell me."

"What?"

"Where you are hurt, whiz kid."

"Nowhere?"

"First off it was too fast, you liar, and second off- you aren't even sure yourself when you lie to me? You have to admit, that's poor."

Steve rolled his eyes, making a mental note to not do it again when sustaining a concussion as soon as another pain washed through his brain and then he sighed in surrender.

"Concussion," he confessed bitterly, hoping Danny would drop it then.

"And where else?"

"That's all," he shrugged and looked innocently at his friend, who was still lying with his stomach on his one. "I have a finger and I will use it, McGarrett," he threat, "and I will poke around in your body until I will find out where else you are hurt, but you are lucky that you are right, we should get our asses out of my wonderful car, which is a wreck now, before we get grilled. Wait, I will…" He wondered how he should get up from McGarrett without hurting that asshole anywhere where he could be hurt (that sounded weird to his ears, but then again, he was certain he had a concussion, too, and that was somehow comforting him).

"Could you – could you spread your legs?"

His blue eyes pierced into Steve's, which were oddly not piercing, but Danny guessed it came with the cold his boss was suffering. Actually, Danny awaited a sarcastic answer as 'you wanna grope me or what?' or 'I did that in your dreams, too, right?' but he didn't expected him to say nothing and just to do as he was told to.

McGarrett never, ever did as he was told to do and that wasn't really soothing down the worry in his stomach.

He promised himself when they would be out of the car he would punch him in the face if necessary to get him talking about his injuries. He crouched (the car wasn't really high from upside down) into the limited space between Steve's long legs and turned around to see the Commanders eyes calling it a day. He kicked his friend into the knee with a 'what the hell are you doing' expression and watched him raising his upper body.

No, he watched him wanting to raise his upper body, but halfway he collapsed back, his features screaming PAIN and his hand pressing onto his ribs.

"STEVE!" Danny screeched, rushing back to Steve's side. But Steve was already starting his second try, this time successfully sitting up, and Danny was frightened about how pale he was, just his cheeks were in a red contrast to it and his hair was a mess, sticking out in all possible directions, but then Danny minded they had been in a disastrous accident and they both were alive and, irrefutably, that was a miracle.

"C'mon gorilla, let's get you outta here," he said in a 'you have no choice anyway' kind of way and waited for his boss to nod and set his hands onto the ground so he could creep out of the wreck. Danny stooped towards the door and he attempted to push it open because he didn't want to climb through the window as he had the choice to use the door, but well, he obviously had no choice because the door was stuck.

"Sorry, this door's out of order, guess we have no option but climb through the window."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Steve agreed from the place Danny saw him the last time. Before the cop scrambled his ass through the window though, he kicked out the rest of the remained glass to avoid slitting open his arms and bleeding out in his car. When he was done, he announced, "okay, you, you will just stay there and do nothing but sit there, you hear me? I'll get out of the car now and then will try to open one of the doors so you don't have to shrink to get through the window, and, oh wow, you couldn't do it either, so just sit there and play with…," he looked around in the car, "you play with yourself, but do not touch the glass!"

He felt as if he talked to a child.

The man stepped through the little window, cursing the creators of the car for disregarding the situation of somebody in need of help who wants to get through the window and simply can't because he's too big. He has lucky that he was not 'too big', so he escaped through the window, now entirely sure he would send a complaint about this car to the inventor. When he stood outside, he rolled his head to test it and he swirled around his collarbones to loosen the stiffness in his neck. Then he took hold of the car.

His car.

It was a wreck.

His Camaro was lying next to a tree, near to a path, which not seemed to be used often.

And they were in the jungle.

How the hell did we end up here?

He swallowed, his dry throat bothering him, but he had to get McGarrett out of the ticking time bomb before it would blow up. He peaked through the window by lowering again to see McGarrett attempting to open the door on his own.

"Oh god, what are you, a cat? I swear, Steve, you're worse than a cat because those will just destroy your favorite couch, puke on it and then lick their coat as if nothing had happened. But you, my friend, you puked in my car, well that's probably not your fault because you have a concussion, but nevertheless, you're worse and you'll always be because a cat can at least look sweet sometimes, but not you, you have all those ugly faces and nothing else and right now I would love to have a cat around me!"

He was out of breath when he had finished, his head pounding in unison with his heart and he wondered if his eyes will pop out if his heartbeat increased. Steve's head was swaying slightly and his eyes sagged and shot open every millisecond.

"Steve?" he demanded worried, knowing he had exaggerated with his talking, but he couldn't control his tongue when he was perfectly fine and now he had to deal with a concussion and their totally-fucked-up-situation - how could he not be ranting.

"Huh?" was the short answer before the Commander retched once again, not quite managing to avoid spitting at his clothes.

Danny rushed around the broken car, pulling at the door knob a little too hard as he thought it would be stuck as the other, but it was easy to open and he fell back onto the grass, his head whirling. He struggled to his feet seconds later, ignoring the constant pain in his head, creeping to the open car. The blonde cop watched his friend's back rising a bit from its surely uncomfortable stoop and he sensed him rubbing a hand over his face to wake himself up, maybe, or, when he heard a muffled sound, to sneeze in it.

"Steve?" he asked again, causing Steve to turn only his head in his partner's direction. The Commander based his right hand on the ground (his left was still on his ribs) and with his legs help, he shoved himself backwards towards the door. When he reached it, he stopped shortly, turning his body around so he would face Danny, who was holding out his hand to offer support.

But as stubborn as Lt. Commander Steve McGarrett was, he, of course, did not accept the help of his friend, but pushed himself on the frame of the door up, gritting his teeth that he thought they would give in every moment, but he refused to cry out in front of Danny.

The Jersey stared at the scene in front of him, not believing Steve was still to pig-headed to allow help. When Steve almost made it completely up, he felt his legs collapsing under him and his eyes rolled back in a dramatic kind that Danny was only used to in theatrical TV Shows and without fully recognizing it, the blonde felt his arms stretching out to save his boss from hitting the ground.

Everything seemed easy in TV Shows, easy shooting, easy perps, easy rescue of somebody who has gone missing and easy catching a big guy passing out on you.

But in reality, it was everything but easy.

He felt his own legs folding when Steve's back compressed into his stomach and when the world did ones again cartwheels, Danny was barely able to keep the vomit at bay. He swallowed thickly and then told himself to keep it together, lowering the brunette onto the ground next to the car, breathing unevenly and fast. He let his eyes fall close a few seconds, rubbing a hand across his face and through his hair, then facing the broken world again.

Danny shook off his clothes from the dust and dirt and after that he turned to the SEAL next to himself, who was still in the comatose-like state.

He straightened up, the worry about the fella big enough to forget about the pain in his head. First he reassured himself Steve was still living by pressing down his fingers to find a pulse and then, feeling his boss's forehead, he chuckled.

He's out cold though he is hot.

'Not that kind of hot', he thought shortly after his own words started to sink in.

"Stevie", he nudged his friend, being sure it came out of his mouth slurring so he was sounding like a drunk. "Steve, c'mon, I'm waitin' for those baby blues."

When Steve still didn't show any sign of awakening soon, Danny took his friend's legs and started to haul him farther away, out of the area where they could be seriously hurt when the car decided to blow up. After a few meters he tried to wake up the SEAL again, but was unsuccessful.

He was dripping with sweat and wiped it away as it ran into his eyes, making them burn when the salt leaked into it. Danny suddenly felt weak, all the adrenaline was wearing off and he slowly lowered himself onto the ground next to Steve, checking him yet again to see he was still not coming around.

'I should really use this opportunity to observe his injuries', the short man thought before his world was blurring to black.

H50

"Yeah, I swear to you, I fucked her so hard she thought she'd be in heaven. I was excellent, no - I was absolutely brillia…" Danny could hear the man shutting up.

Thank god for small mercies.

"What the… What the fuck? Alex! ALEX!", the man bellowed the next moment at the top of his voice and even though he couldn't see him, Danny was sure he was a hulk like McGarrett, well muscled, dumb, the accent said Britain, but he certainly wasn't the Big Boss of all this. He yelled for his mother.

"Alex's up there, 'kay? Calm the hell down, Mike!" shouted a second voice back and he sounded like David.

"You fuck off, bugger, or I'll punch ya in your ugly face, hear me?" David stilled and Danny imagined him sitting down on a stool in a dark corner, close to tears, hurt by the words his whatever-he-was had said to him.

He chuckled, longing to see the scenario in front him, but he couldn't because he was separated with them by the wall. The Jersey cop eavesdropped, but couldn't hear anything else, maybe they decided to move 'up there' where Alex was supposed to be.

But the quietness didn't last long as he could hear a door hammer open and an authoritarian, loud voice asked, "What the hell is going on here? I just wanted to do business with sweet little Katie and suddenly Mark burst in, screaming something about an escape! What the fuck is going on, Batson?"

That was Mr. Big, Danny was 100 % sure about that. He was controlling all this here.

"Boss, watch this," a rather restrained Mike ordered – no, no, it was more like recommended - his boss.

So that's you, pitiable Mike – hanging out your ass, playing big when your boss is not around and then tailing away when he's there? Really miserable. Shame of me I thought of Steve when I heard your voice. You are nothing like McGarrett.

He was cut out of his thoughts when an angry, veryangry Alex hollered, "HOW THE HELL IS THAT POSSIBLE! You were supposed to watch him, motherfucker! Out of my eyes! OUT OF MY EYES! And find him! If you'll come back without him, I swear, your own dear mother will pay for your failing."

Stamping feet echoed and soon the sound vanished.

"That's not possible! He was chained to a fucking rock in the fucking sea! He cannot be free!"

Danny's heart jumped at his choice of words. He remembered the conversation with David earlier, 'We threw him into the water, cuffed him to a rock and left him in a black, dark hole he'll never leave. Never.'

Oh my god! McGarrett! You made it? You freed yourself?! I love you so much right now, babe!

He beamed from ear to ear, not able to stop smiling because he knew Steve was alive.

Suddenly, he saw the room's door flying open with such a force it banged into the wall and bashed back, almost hitting the guy, who was a well build man in his 30's, strewn with tattoos, in the face, which was masked in a totally-pissed-off feature.

"Well, your partner knows how to make us very mad. Unlucky you."

Danny couldn't help but smile, what clearly provoked Alex.

"What did he do to piss you so off? Did he sing a song for you? I swear, you never want to hear him singing it's like…"

He was quieted by a fist slamming into his jaw, the force crashing the stool with him down to the ground. Williams laughed despite the pain that was cruising through his body and he knew he was just making the bad man angrier at him but he couldn't stop. A kick with a boot to his already cracked ribs did the job and he silenced.

The head of this… crap was standing over him, watching him while he writhed in pain, refusing to cry out to please the man.

"You're not a wise man, Mr. Williams."

"For you - Detective," Danny managed through gritted teeth, panting slightly.

"You know, we all underestimated Mr. McGarrett."

The cop thought about laughing out loud, but decided against it as he didn't want to risk a punctured lung that a broken rib could pierce.

Mr. McGarrett? Really?

"He did manage to get out of handcuffs which were chained to a hole in the sea with a few broken ribs, a concussion and other bumps here and there."

"And a cold," Danny muttered under his breath, yet very happy McGarrett was the SuperSEAL he was.

"But I do not tolerate such a behavior. He may be free now, but he won't get too far before my man will get him back. And then he will regret even wanting to get away."

He sounds like a dictator. 'I do not tolerate such a behavior'.

It was funny to witness him pacing up and down the room, his hands folded behind his back just like in some movies he had seen.

"What does that mean?" Danny ran his tongue over his mouth, but the desired effect of wetness didn't occur.

"What do you think it does mean, Mr. Williams?" Alex had stopped striding, his cold, piercing blue eyes boring into Danny's, sending a chill down his spine.

This man sure was some cold-blooded killer.

"You not gonna punish me because of that idiot, right? I mean, he's insane and I would prefer to not being beaten just because he felt like escaping." Danny couldn't help but cringe at his own words – he would always want to get Steve's hitting if it meant he was far away from those maniacs and their beating. His best friend shouldn't endure something like that again.

"That's what you're wondering about? You know, Mr. Williams, I'm a clever one, not that dumb as my employers. You shouldn't try to sell me the 'I hate him story' because I'm not buying it. And if you ever gonna lie to me again this will turn out even worse – for both of you."