Now you can find out what Grace was up to.
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Thin Ice in Honolulu
Chapter 7: How High Is the Insanity Level?
Steve McGarrett was glad Danny Williams was safe in New Jersey; that was one life off his conscience. But the prisoner in Oahu Community Correctional Center missed his fiery partner.
Steve had called his sister warning her not to come. He didn't want her to fall into Wo Fat's hands again. She replied she was broke and couldn't afford the plane fare, anyway, but she accepted Steve's collect calls whenever he was able to make one and sent a couple of long, chatty letters and a package of dried fruit and nuts. Was it a California thing, Steve wondered, or was it a critique of his sanity. Maybe he just saw everything as a commentary on his monumental stupidity.
Chin had to maintain his reputation as a by-the-book member of HPD. The only time he visited, he brought Steve a book he said was from Danny called, "Learning Self-Control." Chin reported on the investigation in vague terms, but his eyes spoke volumes in regret.
Apparently Jenna had been overlooked or ignored in the attack on Five-0, maybe because she wasn't officially Five-0. No one wanted her to step into the line of fire by visiting Steve. Kono had mentioned something about Jenna returning home to Virginia. Steve thought it was a hint, because CIA headquarters was in Langley, Virginia.
It was hugely frustrating to have to guard every word he said. On the other hand, the fact that his friends had secrets to keep made Steve feel that progress was being made, though that might be a wishful illusion.
Kono was his only regular visitor — having nothing better to do went unsaid. She chatted about the weather, the waves and her family, and reassured Steve that "we're doing everything we can to get you out."
All Steve could do was read — starting with the self-control book — exercise obsessively and keep an eye on the people who were watching him. Oh, and wait for his mail.
Steve didn't hear from Danny directly, but every day a letter arrived to remind him he wasn't forgotten. Every day without fail, he received a letter postmarked from a different town in New Jersey or New York, but all addressed in a neat, schoolgirl hand.
Inside each was a crayon drawing — yellow sun, green grass, blue waves and bright Hawaiian flowers. One had a girl surfing a big wave, another had a man riding a motorcycle through a field of heart-shaped flowers. There was the Statue of Liberty and a dolphin jumping over a rainbow. The pictures were childish, but recognizable. Steve wondered if a couple of them were based on magazine photos. He knew a few had to have been copied from comic books. These featured the most common figure in Gracie's drawings, a hero who knocked down walls and broke a prisoner's chains. He had yellow hair, and wore a red cape and a blue necktie. Steve smiled every time he saw the unnamed hero on a rampage.
Steve had decorated the walls of his cell with his favorite pictures. Officials had at first refused to allow him any tape, apparently for fear he could make a strangling cord from it. (And maybe he could have at that.) The red-haired, freckle-faced guard who usually delivered the mail had gone out of his way to find little tape tabs meant for gift-wrapping and scrapbooking. This was one of the men Steve had wondered about. He seemed awfully interested in McGarrett. When Kono investigated, however, she found out that O'Connor was in his third year of studying child psychology with a view to working with incarcerated youth and children of inmates. Steve was amused to realize O'Connor was more interested in Grace's drawings than in Steve.
Every letter renewed Steve's fading hopes but today, for the first time, there was no letter. Steve was ready at the bars of his cell when O'Connor brought the mail around, but the guard shook his head.
"Nothing today," he said regretfully. He saw Steve's disappointment. "It's probably the post office," O'Connor offered consolation. "You'll probably get two letters tomorrow."
"Probably," Steve agreed, but he felt let down. Maybe his friends were starting to give up on him. Maybe they should give up, he thought. His obsession had made a mess out of all their lives. They should run as far from him as possible, as if he was a grenade about to go off. Except he'd already blown up and sprayed them with shrapnel.
He was so sunk in gloom, that the guard named Alapai had to call his name twice to get Steve's attention. "You've got a visitor," the guard said.
Steve couldn't think who it could be, not Kono. She'd been the day before. Probably one of the HPD detectives asking the same questions he had no answers for.
Shoulders slumped, Steve approached the visitors' area.
"Here," said Tukia, the guard at the entrance, as he handed Steve an envelope. "Your visitor brought this for you."
Steve opened it, and found his daily Grace drawing inside. It showed a lion tamer carrying a whip and a chair and wearing necktie. He as surrounded by grinning cats with shaggy manes. Beneath, Grace had written her father's name.
Steve's breath caught as he looked through the thick Plexiglas and saw Danny Williams waiting in the booth, phone in hand. Wearing a tie and a suit complete with coat, he looked even more out-of-place than usual. Danny had a raincoat too heavy for the tropical drizzle outside and looked tired and rumpled, as if he'd come straight from the airport.
He was such a welcome sight, Steve stopped still, suddenly uncertain. Dammed up emotions threatened to spill out everywhere. He felt such a surge of relief and happiness to see Danny again, that it made Steve feel pathetically weak and needy.
Tukia waited, armed folded. It wasn't his business to force the prisoner to talk to his visitor.
Danny eyed him through the Plexiglas, seeing every thought cross the face Steve tried so hard to keep immobile. Steve realized he was as obvious as Grace's colorful drawings.
A smile blossoming on his face, Danny placed his right hand flat against the Plexiglas. When Steve still didn't move, Danny crooked the forefinger of his left hand, the one holding the phone.
As if hypnotized, Steve moved to the chair, sat and placed his left hand on top of Danny's. He could have sworn that, through the barrier, he could feel warmth pouring out of the dynamo that was his partner. The shave ice Steve had packed around his heart melted before that furnace. How could it be weak or pathetic to have such a friend?
"Danny," Steve said into the phone. "It's too dangerous. You shouldn't be here."
"But…?" Danny asked patiently.
"But I'm glad you are," Steve admitted, and a smile finally lit his face.
Danny thought Steve looked pale and stressed, but the tension in the prisoner seemed to ease the longer the two men regarded each other.
Their fingers curled in a mutual impulse to clasp hands. Relief at seeing each other whole and well blossomed into small smiles that grew. Danny smiled, then Steve smiled bigger, then Danny, then Steve.
Danny deliberately, literally, wiped the smile from his face.
"OK, enough, this is not a goofy smile contest," he said sternly, fighting his grin, but unable to keep it off his face entirely. He pulled his fingers from the Plexiglas and gripped his knee to keep his hand from flying around unbidden.
Steve obediently folded his free hand on the counter, sat up straight and fought for a serious mien. (Ten minutes ago, he'd have never thought he'd feel so giddy right now.)
Danny eyed the corner of a bandage peeking out from beneath Steve's collar. "Chin told me about the scuffle. You OK?"
Steve rotated his shoulder without discomfort. "It's just a little stiff. They were only scratches," he said dismissively.
His partner studied him up and down. "Is it my eyes? I would not have believed it, but you look even more buff — less tan, but more buff — than when I last saw you. I mean, seriously? In prison?"
"Nothing to do but work out," Steve said with a shrug.
"You didn't even crack the book I sent you, did you?" Danny accused.
"Read it from cover to cover," Steve said, raising his hand like a Boy Scout taking an oath.
Danny gave him a glare of disbelief.
"Really," Steve promised. "I read the highlighted section on page 41 three times and the paragraph with stars and exclamation points on page 210, I committed to memory."
"And the note on page 87?"
"'Grenades in my glove compartment? What were you thinking? !' My favorite," Steve said.
"You committed it to memory, but did you take any of it to heart?"
Steve's face fell. "I'm trying, Danny. I … I keep thinking about the danger I put you and Kono and Chin in. I can't get the memories out of my mind, Kono losing her badge, you ready to fight Chin for arresting me. I was a terrible leader. I put my own vendetta first and never thought about what it would do to my team."
Danny chewed his lip as he studied his friend's tragic expression. All the humor in the Jerseyan's eyes had dissolved. "To be fair, Wo Fat kept pushing your buttons."
"But I let him. And I didn't listen to you."
"Always your worst mistake," Danny agreed.
"Tell Gracie I really like the pictures," Steve said. "They help keep me … connected."
"You like the new one?" Danny asked, quirking an eyebrow at his friend.
Steve unfolded the paper and smiled at the grinning lions surrounding the fearless tamer. "Yeah."
Danny tilted his head and Steve realized he'd missed something, though he couldn't think what. Then Danny shook it away with a minute twitch of his head. "You don't have to worry much longer. It's almost over."
Steve perked up.
"I can't tell you much," Danny warned. "Practically nothing, in fact, but we're tied in the bottom of the ninth and our heavy hitter's coming up to bat. That would be me, in case you're wondering."
"And the crowd goes wild," Steve offered with a grin.
Danny answered with a tight smile.
"What are you up to?" Steve asked with swift concern.
Danny just shook his head. "If I told you, I'd have to shoot you. I've gotta go, Steve. I've got everything I need to kick Wo Fat's ass; but first I've gotta get something to eat. Would you believe the airline served teriyaki chicken with soggy pineapple? Pineapple on meat, disgusting."
Steve knew Danny's tone. He hadn't heard it often, but this was the 'damn the torpedoes' tone he'd used when chasing Meka's killer. "Danny, don't …" But what could he say, Don't do this. Don't get yourself killed. Danny had already made up his mind. Steve said it all with one of those looks Danny claimed to read so easily. Danny met his friend's anxious eyes with a level gaze, but didn't say anything, which was always an ominous sign.
Steve cleared the nerves out of his throat. "How ... how high is the insanity level?"
"High," Danny admitted.
"Be careful," Steve begged.
"Highly unlikely," Danny answered. "But don't blame yourself. It's my decision."
"What does Rachel think? And Grace?" Steve said quickly, trying to detour Danny's determination.
"Rachel is scared, but resigned. She knows she doesn't have any say any more."
That was the saddest thing Steve had ever heard anyone say in a flat, unemotional voice.
"Grace," Danny continued with a small smile. "Grace is gung ho for me to save her Uncle Steve. She's still young enough to think I'm immortal. If I disappoint her, I won't be around to see it."
"You shouldn't risk your life for me," Steve said.
"Oh sure, now you're all worried about risking my life," Danny joked weakly; then said seriously, "Steve, it's all part of the job. It's who I am. It's who I'll always be. I did the only thing I could to protect my little girl. I upped my life insurance — again."
"Danny, please."
"No, partner. It's too late. The ball's been pitched. I've gotta swing or strike out." Danny smiled a real, genuine, relaxed smile. Steve saw his eyes were serene. "Don't worry, babe. I'm gonna hit it out of the park for you."
The detective started to get up, then picked up the phone again. "Take care of that drawing," he said, nodding at the colorful piece of paper, then he left.
- H50 -
"Any place to get something to eat around here?" Danny asked the guard who let him out of the visitor's room.
"There's a café on the other side of the park," Alapai answered.
"Thanks," Danny said.
- H50 -
"That your boyfriend," Tukia asked idly, as he escorted the prisoner out of the visitor's area and handed him off to O'Connor. It wasn't a crack. Steve seemed so much more relaxed and happy since he saw his visitor. Steve recognized the absence of malice in the comment, so merely replied, "No, he's my brother."
Remembering the short, blond visitor, Tukia thought, then you must have had different fathers, but that would have been a crack, so he didn't say it.
O'Connor escorted Steve back to his cell and locked him in. He noticed the drawing in the prisoner's hand.
"Hand delivered," Steve said, showing off the artwork.
The guard examined it without touching it, politely respecting the prisoner's property. "Clever," he said. "That's the first Biblical reference, isn't it?"
Biblical? Steve sagged against the bars as he looked at the drawing again. He hadn't gotten it. He'd seen the name "Daniel," but hadn't put it together with the big cats.
"Daniel in the lion's den," Steve murmured fearfully. Suddenly he didn't like the smirks on those lions' faces at all.
- H50 -
The guard Alapai took a break to use the washroom. In the adjacent locker room, he retrieved his cellphone and made a quick call. "Tell Wo Fat that Williams is back," he instructed.
Next chapter: Daniel in the Lion's Den
Coming up on the big finale. May I have more reviews, please?
