I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.

H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O*

Chapter Six

"I don't like this, Stumps." His complaints were no longer falling on deaf ears and Moze backed up quickly into the wall as Stumps' rifle swung unerringly in his direction. He wanted attention, but not quite this way.

"But I don't." Moze whined just a bit more softly. "We should take their offer. Just take the car and then make our own plans after that. We need to get far away from this place."

Based upon Moze's past incompetence, Duckie was minding the back door with his handgun. With only his switchblade, Moze was relegated to remain in the front reception room with Stumps. Now that the two men were locked up and with nothing to do but worry, Moze's jittery tolerance levels had long dwindled away. At first, the distraction became the frightening cadre of police surrounding them. Their coordinated activity, shouts, telephone calls to the clinic, and swirling bright lights only added to Koa's persistent chaos in the background.

The overwhelming stimuli had worn Moze down while his skittish nature and need for another hit worked him up to a frazzled state. "Stumps, we made a mistake."

"Back off and shut up." The older boy had reached the end of his own rope with the sixteen year old. Nothing made him happy, even the apparent gentle lull they were now experiencing where the dog had even calmed. With the police in place outside and the boys efficiently holding their own inside, the new quietude was equally preying on Moze's discomfort.

The boy gasped and lurched to his feet, startled when the phone suddenly rang. "You're an idiot, Moze. Do you want to call your mommy?" Utterly disgusted and brazenly waggling the phone in the boy's direction, Stumps glared at his youngest cohort as he answered Tom Usher's call.

"No." He mumbled under his breath. Trembling sporadically as he looked away in embarrassment, Moze sank back down into Mrs. Polly's receptionist chair while pulling out his last bit of marijuana. It wasn't nearly enough but it gave him something to do until he spied Steve's wallet.

The smeared blood was drying across the well-worn leather and Moze wrinkled his nose at it. With the smoldering joint sticking from the side of his mouth, he finally opened it and thumbed back through the now empty billfold. Steve's twenty dollar bill was in Stumps' own pocket after he'd taken it from Moze.

Under his eyelashes, the sixteen year old glowered at Stumps as he shouted into the phone to demand a car and the fully gassed-up motor boat. Going back to what he was doing though, Moze noticed that Steve's credit cards were missing and assumed Stumps ... again. His anger rose because besides being ignored, he was being left with nothing. Rather than just idly thumbing through the wallet's remains, he violently yanked out each and every slip of paper, note and laminated card to make a messy pile.

Admittedly, Moze's mind was slow as he stared at one white laminated card and then examined the man's drivers license. The identification pictures matched their dog catcher, Steve, but the card clearly held the golden insignia of the United States Navy. It took the boy a longer moment to realize that it was a military issued identification card. The smaller words noting Reserves didn't mean as much to Moze. However, he did understand that they had more than a simple dog catcher or friendly neighbor in the back room. Fingering through a few similar looking rectangular cards, a small dent eventually hammered into his beleaguered brain to understand they were Steve McGarrett's business cards. The Five-0 logo made his eyes nearly bulge out of his head and he inhaled strongly in a vain, ignorant attempt to have his last joint calm a hammering heart.

"Stumps." Moze's whisper was loud as he palmed the cards. "Hey, Stumps!"

"What!" Not a question, Stumps warningly swung his rifle once more at Moze. He was frazzled and becoming worn down himself by the unrewarding talks with Tom Usher, neither willing to give on certain compromises. The last thing he needed or wanted to hear was Moze's whining voice. "Shut up! We're talking here!"

Gritting the smokey joint in his teeth, Moze slammed the cards under his hand on top of the desk as he got to his feet. He was trying to help and only being threatened by his own supposed friend. "Fine!"

Pacing the small area behind the desk, Moze fisted the cards while wending the knife through his fingers again. "But, Stumps!" He simply couldn't rest until his older leader paid him some attention. "You need to see this." He whispered frantically. "Seriously. You totally need to listen to me!"

"Shut up I said!" The hissed retort ratcheted up Moze's jittery emotions as he was once again denied the ability to speak. The very fibers of his being where tightly strung as he quickly finished the last of his joint with a hard upset inhale. He looked up expectantly when Stumps finally called his name, but the order wasn't at all what he anticipated.

"Moze. Take a picture of them." Still on the phone, Stumps tossed his cell phone to the desk. "Take a good one and come right back. They need it as proof because time's almost up for them."

Suddenly frozen in place, Moze's mouth dropped open. To take the picture, he would need to pass the room where the dog was and he was petrified to go alone; then there was the issue of the big doctor.

"What? No way. Ask Duckie to do it." Moze folded his arms to vainly hide the shaking in his fingers. "I'm not doing it."

"Shut up, stop whining, and do what you're told for once." The rifle came up once more time and this time, Moze knew he'd gone much too far. In a fury now, Stumps' face was red while his own paled more.

"Not one more word out of your mouth or so help me, I shoot you and then hand you over to them. You are so not useful to me!" The promise was assured and reluctantly, Moze took the cell phone from the desk. Upset and angry, his own personal vow was that he needed to maintain a few secrets of his very own. They key being that one of their hostages was very special.

"Hurry up!" Stumps shouted after his retreating back.

Skittering down the hallway, Moze only paused by the threatening door where he could hear the dog whining in its own frustration. Rocking back and forth like a runner at a track meet, he bolted the short distance. The noise from his sneakered feet thundered by to create a fresh bout of barking and howls from inside the office. Spurred on by fierce scratching on the door itself, Moze was petrified until he realized nothing had happened and he was relatively safe.

"Damned dog. One of us should shoot you." Moze muttered under his breath, suddenly pleased with that special idea. If not Stumps, he knew that Duckie would like it and take care of the dog for him. The fresh idea made him grin and he shouted back at the door while jogging to the supply room. "Yeah, that's right … we should shoot you!"

Vibrating even more as he stood outside the supply room door, Moze was at least happy that they'd left the key in the lock. It's long lanyard hanging nearly to the tiled floor. Ponch looked up as he heard the sounds outside their small room. Steve had drifted off again but he roused as Ponch shifted more readily in warning.

"Wake up." The soft nudge and whisper of his name brought him slightly more aware. But when the supportive warmth left his shoulder, he startled awake as the doctor whispered to him a second time. "Steve. Company."

"Hmm?" Steve muttered as he blinked his eyes rapidly in the darkness. "What's going on?"

Before the doctor could provide an answer, the door swung open as the overhead lights were quickly flicked on. Steve's winced blinking increased at the sudden change and he just managed to squint upwards when a series of flashes blinded him again.

"What the hell are you doing?" The doctor growled out. Moving more forward from where he originally had been seated, his near crouch was decidedly personally defensive and even protective. "We don't have time for this stupidity. What's going on out there with you three?"

The rapid fire questions stunned Moze who had just been dressed down by his older boss and he nearly dropped the phone as the authoritative voice boomed around him. It took all the remaining courage the sixteen year old had to offer just to force his feet to stay in the doorway. Reminding himself that the men were still tied up and one was injured, he glanced down the hallway as Stumps' yelled at him to move faster.

"He's Navy .. and Five-0. He's important." Moze's sudden announcement effectively stilled the very air in the room. Bleary-eyed, Steve cursed softly under his breath as he sank lower down.

"So? It only means that you bought more trouble down on your combined heads." Ramirez warily challenged in return. "What he needs is a hospital. Are you going to help us or make this worse for yourself?"

Shrugging nervously, Moze eyed them both before gazing at the blood-stained bandage. With Stumps shutting him down at every opportunity, he was angry and confused. They had bitten off more than they could chew, but no one would listen to him. As indecisive as before, the teenager waffled defensively and wound up sputtering out the truth. "Don't know yet."

With that, the lights were turned off by their external switch and the door slammed solidly shut. As the key turned the strong lock home, Ponch sighed heavily before repositioning himself to support Steve's weight. With nothing to do, he softly rapped his head repeatedly into the wall behind him.

"Looks like Curly has half a brain after all." Ponch muttered under his breath.

"No, no, Doc. That one's Louie." Steve quietly smirked as another sickly chill rolled though his chest. The lack of a verbal rejoinder from the big doctor indicated the rising level of concern for their welfare. With their time now distinctly running out at an even faster pace, whomever was running the show outside needed to escalate on their game plan.

~ to be continued ~