Chapter Four: Bells Tolling

Rows of perfectly pressed uniforms silently standing at attention.

The feel of polished wood beneath his hand.

The soft voice of a priest praying.

The muffled sobs of a woman trying to be silent.

The sharp odor of incense wafting through the air.

The click of polished boots against the church floor.

Voices cracking as they were lifted up in song.

The tolling of the bells.

Snippets. Moments when some sight or sound broke through the numbness and the pain that Danny Williams felt inside. Nothing felt real, it was if the world were covered in a fog that made everything seem so far away. It had taken effort to get up, effort to be here in this place, effort to not protest when people called him a hero for saving those kids when all he felt was guilt over the one person he had failed to save.

The only way Danny was going to make it through the funeral was by focusing on his duty. He was not going to fail to protect his partner in this final task. Keeping a firm grip on the casket, he carefully watched his steps, making sure they were in line with those of the officer in front of him.

The casket was heavy; heavier than he had imagined it would be, but the weight was one Danny wanted to carry. He wanted his arms to hurt; he wanted to have to concentrate on the difficulty of this task. He welcomed the pain. Because the weight he carried in his hands was nothing compared to what he carried in his heart.

Danny raised the rifle, its muzzle pointed towards the target. Shifting his body into a firing stance, he braced himself. Staring down his sight, he switched off the safely and rested his finger against the trigger. He squeezed the trigger, the rifle recoiled and the bullet flew toward the target.

Lowering the rifle slightly, Danny frowned. While he had hit the target, he had caught only the outer edge. That wasn't good enough.

Taking aim again, he tried to focus on his breathing just as much as his aim. The second shot was better, but he was still three inches away from the center. Three inches could have meant the difference between killing Thorton and killing the daughter he had held in his arms.

He had to do better. He had to. He'd learned to shuot a rifle in basic training, but he saw little need to maintain the skill. A handgun was a more practical weapon for a cop and his had always served him well. That was, until the day it didn't. The day he had needed the precision of rifle but had neither the access to one nor the training to properly use one in a hostage situation.

He had to get better.

He couldn't fail again.

Determination filled his being as he lined up the rifle for a third shot. Focus. He just needed to focus. His body knew what to do.

Bullseye: a perfect shot. But Danny felt no satisfaction at achieving his goal. How could he? Not when the sight of O'Donnell's body never seemed to leave his mind. One in three was a start, but he still had a long way to go. He should schedule some time with the instructor, work in more practice time. Danny shook his head. What was he thinking? Any actions he took now would be too little, too late. If only...

The call of 'cease fire' echoed down the range and Danny immediately lowered his rifle, switched on the safety and set his weapon down on the table beside him. While others moved out onto the range to work on the targets, he stretched while waiting for the signal that the range was live again.

"Officer Williams."

Danny turned; it was no surprise that he was recognized - he was shooting at the HPD range - but the formality of the address seemed odd. At least until he spotted Lieutenant Henry Kainoa walking in his direction. Holding back a frown, Danny attempted to discern what the hapa-haole man, who was in charge of HPD detectives, could possibly want with him. Especially while he was on a paid leave of absence due to his partner's death and his own role in shooting a suspect. But he kept those thoughts to himself and replied, "Good afternoon, sir."

Kainoa glanced downrange at Danny's target and said, "Nice shooting, kid."

The last thing Danny wanted to do was listen to someone attempt to cheer him up with well intended, but empty sounding praise. So he responded with the truth, "Not really."

Kainoa raised an eyebrow. "One perfect shot and two on the target? I think you and I have different opinions of what's impressive."

"I could have done better."

The veteran cop understood exactly to what the younger officer was referring, and it wasn't the target at the other end of the range. "Danny, a rifle wouldn't have saved O'Donnell."

"You think that's why I'm here?" Danny snapped; Kainoa's words were threatening to bring up all the emotions he had been doing his best to suppress. He could cope as long as he didn't have to talk about it.

"Danny, you're not the only cop in this conversation. Everyone deals with grief in his own way and yours is a well-trodden path."

The look in Kainoa's eyes was so genuine that Danny felt his barriers starting to crumble. Kainoa cared. "You can't know that it wouldn't have made a difference," Danny argued.

"All we know is what happened and that can't be changed. If you want to change something, change the future. What are you doing tomorrow?"

Danny shrugged. "I haven't made any plans."

"Work with me."

"What?"

"You're not going to feel any better moping around your apartment. Trust me, I know. I'm working on tracking down the dealer who sold Thorton those drugs. Thought you might want to be involved."

"Chief Dann put me on the beach."

"I've already spoken with him. If you work with me, you can return."

Danny hesitated. Kainoa's offer was tempting, but the odds of tracking down the dealer and the men who controlled him would be low. Did he really want to set himself up for disappointment on the chance that they might arrest a man or two? None of them were the ones who had pulled the trigger on the gun that killed his partner. No, he couldn't do this. "It doesn't matter. Nothing can bring Steve back."

"If you really believe that, why are you here?"

Danny froze. The problem with working with cops was that they all were so darned perceptive. But he couldn't respond now. He needed time to think.

"Sleep on it," Kainoa said. "There's a meeting in my office tomorrow at eight 'o clock. If you want to help, be there."

Danny watched as the detective turned and walked away. Turning his attention back to his target and confirming that the range was live, he picked the rifle back up. Taking aim, he tried to put the conversation out of his mind. But when he took the shot, he didn't need to check to know that he had missed the target.

This wasn't helping. Kainoa seemed to think that working with him would. In Danny's mind, every path seemed to hold nothing but more pain and more grief. But, if the situation were reversed, what would his partner do?

Danny shook his head. That was a dumb question. O'Donnell was a cop's cop. Only his duty to his family came before his duty to the badge. Which meant that Danny's answer was clear: tomorrow he would go to the station and he would report for work and he would try to move on the best he could. Because that was what cops did.