Crippled
Chapter Ten

(author's note at the end of the chapter; please enjoy!)

Weapons drawn, Steve and Chin approached the stolen Cherokee, splitting to cover both sides. There was a moment of tense silence while Steve peered into the windows, frowning at the empty vehicle. "Clear," he told Chin, who promptly turned away from the vehicle and let his sharp-eyed gaze roam the area around them. The street was emptying, as people took notice of the officers with guns drawn and, before long, there was a quiet sort of tension in the very air around them. Every sound normally drowned out by city traffic and tourist chatter seemed amplified in the near-suddenly deserted street: a breeze blew gently, a plastic cup rolled across pavement. In the background, the muted sounds of traffic a street over sounded far away. Steve's footsteps nearly echoed as he peered in through the Cherokee's windows.

"Anything?" Chin asked as he slowly holstered his service weapon.

"It's clean." Without looking, Chin knew that Steve was frowning. "We'll get CSU out here to process, but I doubt they'll find a damned thing."

"Not if it's Cardoso." Chin turned then, one hand resting on the butt of his gun. "I don't get it, Steve. Duke says that's one of Cardoso's top guys. Why didn't he finish the job?"

Steve shook his head, brow furrowing. "Danny looked like he was down."

"But Kono wasn't," Chin pointed out. "And you were out there less than a minute after. Either our guy got spooked by something or we're missing something."

Rubbing a hand over his chin, Steve nodded. "You're right. It's not adding up." He pulled out his phone, thumbing through his contacts until he found Duke's number. "I'm getting HPD out here."

Chin echoed the nod. "What's our next move?"

"We're taking a drive out to Halawa."

At that, Chin grinned. There was no humor in it; instead, something dark and predatory took hold of his features. Cardoso would answer a few questions. He really had no choice. As Steve began to tell Duke what they'd found, Chin took the opportunity to circle the Cherokee, looked for anything at all that might give them something to throw at Cardoso. Unfortunately, it was like even the pavement the SUV sat on had been wiped clean.

He stopped at the driver's side door, glaring speculatively at the place where the shooter had stood. He ran through every detail they knew on the case – which wasn't much, all things considered – and still came up short. Two of Cardoso's men, in the same place at the same time and with ample opportunity to take more than one member of Five-0 out... but they didn't.

That they spooked wasn't a theory that held much water. Danny had been down and Kono vulnerable and both in a clear line of sight. Steve had come upon the scene almost as it happened; he hadn't known where the shooter was either so none of the three were a threat to Cardoso's men.

So what had kept them from taking another shot? And why show up in Danny's hospital room afterward? If it had been simply to see if how badly Danny was injured, then surely there were simply ways to do that that didn't put one at risk of being caught. Chin wondered if Cardoso had had a hand in that; that would be the simplest part of this to explain away. Cardoso was always a hands-on type. It was what ultimately got him caught. If he demanded proof of life (or death, as the case may be) then his men would jump to provide it, even if it meant walking into a hospital room full of cops.

Chin's fingers tapped the grip of his holstered weapon. Eyes narrowed and brow furrowed, he distantly noted that sound of cruisers approaching. Hopefully, Duke had come out himself to oversee the processing of this particular piece of evidence. (If the Cherokee yielded any evidence, that is.)

Cardoso had answers and, one way or another, he would give them up.

–-

Danny settled in the passenger seat of Kono's red Cruze and tapped the armrest with one finger. Kono glanced at him, frowning at his grimace and closed eyes. "You okay?" She slowed the car before he answered, carefully taking a turn.

He opened one eye and glanced at her. "I'm not fragile."

"I didn't-" Kono huffed, cutting herself off.

After a moment of silence, Danny spoke again. "Kono."

"Yeah?"

"Just drive. I'm somehow not nauseous right now and it's not like a pothole's gonna kill me. You're fine."

Kono reached over and lightly punched him in the arm. "Sorry."

"Don't, babe."

Shaking her head and smiling, Kono accelerated again. Danny's phone chirped and she glanced sidelong at him to see him frowning at a text. "What is it?"

"Steve and Chin found the shooter's car. CSU's on their way to process."

"They get anything?"

Danny harrumphed. "Steve didn't sound optimistic."

Kono gave him a look. "It was a text."

"Exactly." Danny pocketed the phone. "If he had news, he'd call."

She shrugged one shoulder. "Point, I guess."

Danny waved a hand. "You guess? That's all you can give me?"

"You're concussed," Kono answered as they approached an intersection. The only other vehicle there waiting at the red; an old grey beefed-up truck sitting in the street to their right. "It's not like you-"

A screech of tires cut her off. The truck lurched forward. Kono, with barely a moment to react, punched the gas on her little car. It wasn't enough. The brushgard on the truck – an old, sturdy behemoth of a thing – clipped the right quarterpanel. Kono cursed as the Cruze spun around, lurching wildly as it jumped the curb and slammed into the pole on the corner.

Kono lost the wheel as the airbag deployed, her senses assaulted with far too much at once: the sounds of screeching tire and crunching metal, the sharp feeling of the seatbelt locking on her shoulder, the wildly skewed view out the window. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Danny bracing himself with his casted arm.

And beyond him, the grey truck slid to a halt and the doors opened.

"Danny?" Kono fumbled for the gun at her hip, trembling fingers not quite cooperating. Belatedly, she realized that warm, wet feeling on the side of her face was blood. Beside her, the window sported spiderwebbed cracks.

"I see 'em." Danny's voice was rough. She saw him trying to unbuckle his seatbelt and shoving at the airbag in front of him. "Hang on." He leaned over, gently – but quickly – pushed her hand aside, and drew the gun.

"Danny?" She couldn't seem to find any other word. Somehow, the world around her seemed grey and dim. (Like the truck: grey and threatening and what was happening?) "My head..." She ground the words out, lips thinning as the grey coalesced into throbbing pain. Danny's expression told her everything she needed to know: hooded eyes, lines of pain around his eyes and mouth, jaw set.

"Get down." His voice was hard and he shoved her down, turning to bring the weapon to bear.

Kono heard a flurry of echoing shots before the grey pulled her into unconsciousness.

tbc

(author's note)

So it's been forever and a day. I can only say that Real Life became a thing that needed more attention than anything else. I hope whoever might still be with me enjoys the (short, I know) chapter. It's been a good while since I picked up Crippled, so I'd appreciate any and all feedback; Lord knows I need the help to get me back on feet here. H50 was a fandom that I was so happy to dive into awhile ago and I'm so ready to come back to it.

Thanks, all. I hope you enjoyed this one at least a little bit and, like I said, feedback is great. It might help this rusty old author smooth out a few wrinkles. I missed this!