Okay, this chapter has some angsty Danny. Or I was aiming for angsty Danny. So, fingers crossed, I managed to portray that.
Anyway, thanks so much for the reviews, alerts, and just plain reading. You guys are truly awesome.
So, please enjoy, I hope to hear from you all again, and I own nothing.
BYE...
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Present Day…
Steve…
We were backed into a corner. Mason was just nowhere to be found. Even Kamekona hadn't heard anything about him. Well, nothing recent. It was like Mason was a ghost leading us down a trail of dead ends. And with each dead end, Danny became more and more frustrated.
The ride to get Grace was completely silent. Danny's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. His eyes were scrunched in a glare as he stared out the window. I was not used to him being this quiet. Hell, I wasn't used to him being quiet ever.
"You gonna be okay?" I asked as we turned down Bridgette's street. Danny, of course, didn't answer. Instead he pulled into Bridgette's driveway and put the car in park. He got out, subtly trying to compose his face before heading toward the front door.
I watched him, my hand gripping the door handle just in case, as he took a breath and knocked on the door. It opened to reveal a blonde woman. She greeted him with the air of somebody who felt obligated to be polite. Or, as Danny liked to call women like her, 'the subtle bitches.'
They talked for a few more seconds, neither very interested in what the other was saying, until Bridgette's mom called for Grace. She appeared around the corner, backpack over her shoulders, with an unreadable look on her face. So, not only was Danny in a mood, there was a slight chance Grace was in a mood, too. Like father, like daughter.
Danny let Grace into the back seat then slid behind the wheel. He waved to Bridgette's mom and backed out of the driveway. I glanced back at Grace and said, "How was school today?"
"It was fine," she said sighing. "Long and…" she gasped pointing at my cut. "What happened to your head?"
"It's just a scratch," I replied turning to hide my wound. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" she asked giving me a worried look.
"Yeah, Grace, I'm fine," I reassured her giving her a small smile.
"When we get home I'm getting my Band-Aids out. I have Hello Kitty, My Little Pony, or Pooh Bear. I think you should have Pooh Bear, it's less girly…" my cut did some good today, I guess. It distracted Grace from her mood, if only for a few moments.
When we made it home, Grace bounded from the car and headed toward the front door. I had agreed to let her get me a bandage, I mean it was the least I could. She was just trying to help. I unlocked the door for her, watching her head up the steps. When she was gone I turned to Danny, who had been heading toward my couch.
"How you doing?" I asked curiously following him. I perched on the arm of my recliner as he shrugged his answer. "Stupid question, right? I mean, after today I doubt you're going to be okay. But we will find him, Danny. I know we will."
"SEAL intuition tell you that," he muttered his eyes locked on the floor.
"Yeah, what else," I replied smiling. He gave me a wan smile, running a hand through his hair. Grace appeared a few seconds later, handing me a Tigger Band-Aide. Just to make her happy I placed it over my cut...
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I was awake at two, duty calls, when I heard almost silent clacking from a laptop keyboard. I followed the sound, stopping short of Grace's room. I pushed the door open, finding Danny leaning against the head board, laptop sitting across his lap, squinting at the brightness from the screen. Grace was asleep next to him, facing away from him.
"What are you doing?" I asked curiously.
"Research," he replied searching the keyboard for the keys he wanted.
"On?" I whispered.
"Hold on," he replied and closed the computer's top. He carefully slipped off the bed, setting the laptop on the end table, and motioned for me to leave the room. I nodded and lead him outside. He closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar, and hurriedly said, "Lil' Kenny, or Kenneth Malloy, is being held in a maximum security prison in California. FBI thought it was best if he stayed as far away from T'ak as possible, just in case Malloy and crew tried to kill T'ak."
"Was that possible?" I asked curiously.
"Malloy probably wouldn't have, he was only ever known for drug smuggling and theft, but his guys, Chris Cho and Loki Jefferson, had been suspected of murder in six states, but the FBI could never get enough evidence to put them away until they caught T'ak."
"And what does this have to do with our case?"
"The FBI has offered Malloy several deals to flip on Mason, but he won't take any of them. But they haven't tried the Steve McGarrett way. So, I was thinking maybe we could see if the governor can have Malloy transferred back to Hawaii so we could question him. Maybe he can help us find Mason. Or, at least, lead us in the right direction."
"And if she can't," I said slowly. "I mean, think realistically here Danny, Jameson isn't a miracle worker. I mean, she can do a lot, but even she has limitations." And I knew this firsthand when she warned me about going up against my mother's killer. I remembered how she told me she couldn't protect me from killing him.
"But it's worth a shot," he said hearing me, but not really hearing me-if that makes sense. "I mean, come on. You take risks all the time, deadly ones. This is nothing compared to that."
"Okay, and if it does work? If she can get him here? What happens if he doesn't tell us anything? I mean, I'm pretty sure she'd frown upon torture."
"So, you admit it, you've tortured people," Danny said pointing at me.
"No, it's just…" I trailed off, mulling over what I was about to say. "I'm not making any promises, but I will talk to Jameson tomorrow. See what she can do."
"That is all I ask of you," Danny replied nodding once.
"So, was that all the research you've done." A look crossed his face, so fast that I barely caught it, but it was enough to tell me what he had been doing. Either he had been watching the footage again, something I would be surprised if he did (if it were me I would have tried to avoid any reminders), or he was digging deeper into Mason's past. A part of me hoped it was the latter, but I had a feeling it was the former.
"I, um, I should probably hit the sack," he said already inching toward the slightly ajar door.
"Okay," I replied nodding. He gave me a weak smile and disappeared into the room again. I couldn't help it. I flashed his retreating form a worried look. I was starting to regret letting him be involved with this case. It was only a matter of time, as I said before, until he broke. I could practically sense the storm brewing…
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Danny…
It was around five when I finally gave up and got out of bed. Surprisingly, when I headed down the hall to get to my room, I heard buzz saw like snores coming from Super SEAL's room. It was five, five in the morning, and Steve was still asleep. I never believed McGarrett could sleep past four-something. I guess we do learn new stuff every day. Sometimes it wasn't knowledge we wanted either…
I shook my head, building my wall up higher. I didn't have time to let myself feel, I had a killer to find. When I had my emotions in check, I opened my room's door and headed toward my bag.
Opting to take a shower, my mind wandering to how I was going to pay for Grace's school, I collected a change of clothes and headed toward the bathroom. When the water was running, hot enough for me to withstand, I stripped down and stepped into the tub.
I guess I could try calling a bank, take my chances. Or, I shuddered to think about it, I could call Matilda. She wouldn't laugh at me so much as say 'and you think you can provide for my granddaughter.' It was times like these I wished Rachel would have thought of a will. Unfortunately, she kept putting it off, but never really stopped reminding me to make one. She probably figured I would need one before her.
I scrubbed the soap out of my hair, needing to think of something else. Palmer's offer seemed like the best bet.
I only knew Marcus Palmer by reputation. He was a damn good detective, and only hired the best. To hear that Greg had talked me up to him was an honor in itself. And as much as I would hate to turn down the job, I knew that I had to for several reasons. But mostly because Grace would subconsciously resent me for taking her away from Steve, or I had convinced myself she would have. Plus, Mason was still out there, hiding from me, and needed to be taken down. He caused Rachel's death, no matter how distant his involvement was.
The water was cold when I finally shut the shower off. I shivered slightly as I stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around my waist. I looked in the mirror, wondering how I could be a head detective anywhere when I couldn't find the son of a bitch who killed my ex.
I dried off a few seconds later, quickly dressing. As I was tying my tie, something I had done a hundred times, I was painfully reminded it was Rachel who taught me…
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2004…
It was my first day as detective, finally a position opening up so I could be promoted, and I could not get the damn Windsor knot down. I was a few seconds away from saying 'screw it' and leaving it alone, when Rachel appeared behind me.
"Need help?" she asked curiously.
"I…yeah," I replied my fingers fumbling with the tie again. She headed toward me, and I turned to give her access to my tie.
"It's all in the fingers," she said slowly. "That's all you have to remember." I watched her fingers move, the knot almost effortless when she did it. She tightened it and said, "That's it."
"Thanks," I muttered smiling.
"No problem, Detective Williams," she replied pecking me on the cheek…
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Present Day…
I waited outside Steve's office door, watching him talk on the phone. He had been speaking with Jameson for almost an hour, and I was starting to wonder if she was going to agree at all. I almost heard the tongue lashing she was giving Steve about how she couldn't work miracles. Probably using the same exact words Steve had used earlier that morning.
He finally hung up, pushing himself to his feet. He headed toward the door, and I hurriedly tried to look busy with the file in my hand. He, however, wasn't fooled. He opened his door, beckoning me inside.
I closed the file, throwing it on one of the two chairs outside his office, and followed him. He told me to close the door-I did-and he leaned against his desk.
"What'd she say?"
"She said she'd do what she can," he informed me. He was quiet for a second, folding his arms across his chest, and then said, "But she warned me about continuing to let you work this case."
"What? Did she tell you to kick me off?" I asked trying to keep the bitterness and worry out of my voice. I couldn't be kicked off. I had to be a part of this case. And getting angry with my partner probably wasn't going to help me at all.
"No, she just told me to proceed with caution," he responded slowly.
"Proceed with…?"
"And if you do anything remotely un-Danny-ish I will be forced to kick you off," he continued talking over me.
"What does un…?"
"Do I make myself clear?" Damn, he wasn't letting me get a word in edgewise. It was usually the other way around. I didn't like it.
"I can't be…"
"Danny, I can't have you running around half-cocked. I know firsthand how dangerous that can be. And with Grace…" he trailed off taking a breath. "So, please, just try to keep a level head and we'll be okay." There went that please thing again.
"Fine," I heard myself reply. "I will try to avoid being 'un-Danny-ish.'" Whatever that meant.
"Great," he said pushing away from his desk. "Jameson says if she can get Malloy released into our custody he'll be here by Thursday. Is that good enough?"
"It'll have to work," I replied. Honestly, I would much rather have him here by today, but I knew Rome wasn't built in a day and Jameson couldn't get Malloy here like an overnight Fed-Ex shipping. It would take time and negotiating.
Now all we had to do was explore further dead ends and keep our fingers crossed that Jameson would come through. Simple…
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I had been on hold for over an hour, had spoken to probably everyone in the building, and yet could not get information on what I called for. I sat at Steve's kitchen table, after another day full of useless leads, trying to get through to somebody helpful at the bank. It was the third one I had called, and I had only gotten as far as 'sir, we will get back to you in three to five business days.'
I didn't have three to five business days. I needed the money by Friday. But try explaining that to corporate America.
The voice on the other end startled me. Running a hand through my hair, I listened as the girl said, "We'll get back to you in…"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Three to five business days," I grumbled catching her by surprise. "Thanks anyway." I hung up, tossing my phone onto the table top. I ran a hand down my face, laying my head on the table. I still had Matilda, I guess. I'd call her tomorrow.
The front door opened, Grace's voice wafting through the house. I picked my head up, putting my phone away, and stood up just as she and Steve rounded the corner. McGarrett was holding a bag from some restaurant I hadn't heard of, nodding as Grace told him about Tommy from her school. The little shit had been giving her a hard time, even more so since Rachel died. If he hadn't been eight I would have popped him one. But hitting an eight-year-old was frowned and against the law. Lucky bastard…
"Did you do what I told you to?" Steve asked as he started pulling food from the bags.
"Yeah, but I also pictured his head as a deflating balloon. It was actually pretty funny," Grace replied and turned to smile at me. "Hey, Danno."
"Hey, Gracie," I said hoping my tone and face looked and sounded normal. "Did you have fun with Steve?"
"Yeah, we got food from a little diner him, his sister, and his mommy used to go to: Polly's. The lady who owns it gave us extra fries. She said it was because Uncle Steve had cute dimples. But I didn't see any dimples when he smiled…" I threw Steve a look, not needing a translation as to what, I could only assume, Polly meant.
"What?" he asked giving me an innocent look.
"You sicken me sometimes," I replied shaking my head.
"Oh, get your head out of the gutter," he muttered when I joined him at the counter. "She's old enough to be my grandmother and used to babysit me and Mary when we were growing up."
"Uh, huh, sure," I responded nodding slowly. He glared at me and shoved a Styrofoam container at me.
We sat down to eat a few minutes later, even though I wasn't exactly hungry. I managed to fake it for a while, but eventually had to eat something when Steve started throwing me worried looks. I was waiting for the inevitable 'are you alright?' And when he opened his mouth I hurriedly said, "I'm fine."
He was taken aback for a second, and then said, "Just asking for the ketchup." He pointed at the bottle next to my hand. I knew it was bullshit, but still grabbed the bottle and handed it to him.
"Danno, you okay?" Gracie asked giving me a worried look. "You usually are the first one done eating." Damn, she was too perceptive for an eight-year-old. Maybe getting her Eye Spy books at six was a bad idea.
"I'm just not hungry, Monkey," I responded ignoring Steve's look. I was fully capable of not being hungry. My life didn't revolve around food.
"Are you feeling okay?"
"I just had a big lunch today." I had never lied to Grace. I have omitted stuff, sure, and warped a story so it sounded age appropriate, but I never out right lied. It felt wrong. I mean I was her father. I shouldn't be lying to her. I hated liars, more than I hated people who played dumb, but I hated parents who lied to their kids more.
"Okay," she said and went back to eating. I hated how readily she believed me. Of course, the way Steve's eyes were drilling into the side of my head I knew he didn't. I also had lunch with him and Kono. That was just more proof that I was a liar.
Half an hour later Grace was in the living room doing her homework while I cleaned up. Steve followed me around the kitchen, more chatty than usual. "You are such a liar," he hissed.
"Drop it," I hissed back throwing the Styrofoam containers in the trash.
"I mean, lying to me is one thing," he whispered acting like I hadn't said anything. "But to Grace. I honestly didn't think you had it in you."
"I mean it, Steve. Let it go." I deposited the glasses in the sink and turned to face him.
"No, I won't let it go. Something is definitely wrong if you're not eating. And I have a feeling it's more than just Rachel's death…"
"I don't have time for this," I grumped heading toward the door.
"You can't keep bottling this stuff up, Danny."
"You mean like you do," I snapped turning to face him again. "Steve, since your dad died that's all you do. You let yourself get consumed with cases just so you don't have to face anything remotely un-Steve-ish." Yep, I could make up words, too. "Maybe, maybe I'm just taking a leaf out of your book. Doing the deep breath, count to ten thing. Ever think of that." Before he could respond, I grabbed the doorknob and threw the door opened.
"Where are you going?"
"Don't worry about it," I said turning to leave.
"Then what do I tell Grace?"
"You're her best buddy. You can come up with something." I snapped slamming the door behind me…
