Chapter 10
Sincere apologies for the long wait to update. I know some of you brave writers have soldiered on with dreadful injuries and illnesses . . . you know, like the postal service's pledge about neither snow nor sleet keeping them from their appointed rounds, etc. Well, I'm not one of those people. I caught some sort of industrial strength crud and it knocked me on my ass for a few days. I suppose I'll have to look at it as research for medical stuff. Anyway, all better now. I can breath again.
Not much humor in this chapter, just lots of worry. I figured getting something out there was better than nothing. Will try to be funnier in the next update. Thank you all for the reviews alerts and favorites which I may not have replied to yet. Again, apologies.
Disclaimer: Still no fame or fortune
*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*
Lost and Not Found
As soon as the big jet touched down in Newark and made its way to the gate, Danny was off to meet Angela at their prearranged place outside the doorway to baggage claim and they were on their way to Saint Barnabas hospital.
Angela glanced over at her solemn brother in the passenger seat as she expertly guided the big Lincoln along the slick roads toward the hospital.
"He'll be OK, Danny. He's stronger than he looks."
"Yeah but people don't know he's more fragile than he looks too."
"You mean the nightmares?"
"Yeah, you know about them?"
"He's staying in yours and Matty's old room. It's right next to mine and the walls aren't that thick. Are they usually this bad?"
"He won't tell me really but, when I was sleeping on his couch for those few weeks, yeah. He'd wake me up sometimes several nights in a row with his yelling."
"He's got a lot of baggage, Danny."
"Yeah. Someday, it's gonna get him killed." said the blonde man sadly as he stared at the slushy landscape visible through the passenger window.
"He's quite a guy."
"Yeah, the best one I've ever met besides Dad."
"Hey! You fuckin' idiot!" yelled Angela to the driver of a red Toyota as it cut her off and she had to swerve to avoid a collision.
The driver flipped her the bird as Lieutenant-to-be Angela Williams almost wished she was behind the wheel of a black and white right now. She'd guarantee the asshole would pay better attention to his driving!
Danny wasn't in the least surprised by his sister's outburst. It's how one drove in this part of the country, by wheel, voice and finger.
"You know" smiled Angela devilishly without missing a beat, "Other than a little bit of experimentation when I was younger, I'd never considered boys."
"You're saying you're considering Steve?" asked Danny, shocked beyond belief at his sister's revelation as he turned to fully face her.
"No, I'm saying that if I were to consider them, here's a guy I'd be tempted to change teams for."
Her brother only stared at her open mouthed.
"Don't worry, Bro. Not ready to jump ship yet." she laughed softly at her brother's almost cartoonish expression of shock. "Does he have any sisters?"
Danny smiled in relief. "You had me worried for a minute Wonder Woman. Yeah, he's got one sister, Mary - she's cute but, you think he's got baggage!"
"Apparently, that's never stopped me before." smiled Angela ironically; referring to her recent break-up with the woman she'd have bet she would spend the rest of her life with until she came home early one afternoon to find her keeping company with someone else.
Her current living arrangement at her parent's house was due to being in the process of selling the house in which she and Nadine lived and jointly owned.
Danny realized his sister's animosity toward Rachel was probably fall-out from her own failed relationship. He always defended his ex but, he couldn't really blame Angie for her feelings.
After a nearly twenty minute drive on the slushy roadways, they arrived at the hospital. They pulled into the multi story parking structure and took the time-stamped stub from the machine at the entrance. After looking for a parking space for minutes that seemed more like hours, Danny said impatiently, "Angie, just drop me off at the elevators, I'll meet you up there."
"Dad's with him right now." said Angie to her brother as he bolted from the car and she pulled away to continue looking for the elusive parking space.
Danny Williams looked out at the gloomy grey landscape as the glass-sided elevator rose up the side of the huge building.
This had to be such foreign ground for his friend. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to kidnap him away to Jersey. Maybe the warmth of family can't make up for this fucking dismal place! The detective, at first, didn't seem to realize his perception of or allegiance to his here-to-fore sworn nirvana; this busy cosmopolitan place of his birth had changed. It suddenly hit him like a swing from a pipe wrench. He was lucky Steve couldn't read his thoughts, he'd never live it down.
The elevator dinged at the sixth floor and Danny let two older women get out of the elevator before he exited the glass box and quickly strode the long corridor toward Steve's room.
He knocked softly before pushing the door open and found his dad sitting quietly beside his fitfully sleeping partner.
...
It had been so long since he'd felt warm. Maybe this was heaven. The sun, a flaming ball suspended in the cloudless and impossibly blue sky warmed his body and soul.
He watched Mary making sand castles on the shore in front of him. The ocean sparkled behind her and the waves lapped peacefully onto the dark sand. When did Mary come home?
She looked just like she did when he said goodbye to her that day at the airport. The day his dad sent them away.
The difference was, she looked happy now. There was no pain in her eyes, no hurt or anger at being banished from her island and sent away to live on the mainland.
The warmth continued to soak into his tired body. He'd been so cold for so long. He was cold all the time now. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt warm.
Another small figure appeared and happily ran up to the half-built sand fortress. This new little girl joined Mary and was enlisted to shore up the fragile walls of the castle. Gracie? How did Gracie get here? Wasn't Mary a lot older than Grace? Right now, they both looked the same age. Strange.
Oh well, they'll have a good time playing together. He'd just have to make sure Mary didn't offer Danny's little girl a joint. Wait, she's still a little girl; why would his sister even be smoking dope?
It was his fault. He didn't watch her closely enough. He couldn't remember where his mom and dad were but, it was his job to make sure she was safe and it was his job to make sure Grace was safe. Danny trusted him to look out after his most precious thing in the world.
He looked up, startled when something blocked the sunlight. Behind the girls rose a wall of water hundreds of feet high. It was quickly moving toward shore. The girls were oblivious to it; laughing and giggling as they played on.
He called out for them to run but they didn't hear him. They continued their happy chatter and giggling. He yelled louder as he began to run toward them. The monstrous wave was getting closer. It seemed to gather all of the turquoise ocean around it into a towering monolith of dark blue.
He had to snatch them up and carry them away before it broke over them! His lungs burned from running. They hadn't seemed so far away. He'd been running and running and he still had a long way to go before he'd get to them. His chest hurt as his feet flew over the sand.
Then, he couldn't go any farther. He'd become mired in the wet sand that sucked at his feet and ankles. He struggled against its grip but, he was stuck; helpless to do anything.
No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't get loose. The sand wouldn't let him go to them. There was a deafening roar as the sunlight was now totally blotted out; he could feel the earth tremble with the water's frightening power.
He screamed as loud as he could and they still had no idea the wave had begun to crest and curl over them.
All he could do was scream for them to run. He couldn't do anything but scream.
...
Danny looked across his partner's writhing body to the man standing on the other side of the bed. The concern on his father's face mirrored his own.
Steve flailed out, trying to fight against whatever enemy threatened him. He murmured Mary's and Grace's names. Danny heard the word 'run'. He wondered what horrible thing Steve was trying to keep them safe from . . . Wo Fat?
"Shh, Steven, it's OK. Mary and Grace are safe. It's OK, it's just a dream." soothed Danny as he took Steve's hand in his.
Without waking, Steve continued to moan and mumble; twisting this way and that; thrashing enough that he was in danger of dislodging the IV lines and the leads to the monitors and whatever other medical paraphernalia encumbered him.
Angie joined them and disappearing for a moment, came back to run a cool cloth across Steve's flushed and sweaty face and neck. He felt so warm, Danny was almost surprised the water on the cloth didn't turn to steam as it contacted his skin.
Steve mumbled to the girls to run as his eyes continued moving frantically beneath the thin skin of his lids. They'd put an ice blanket over him awhile ago. In just the few hours it had taken to fly from Honolulu to Newark, Steve had gone downhill at an alarming rate.
A tall man in a white coat walked in at that moment frowning as he observed Steve's restless movements. The man nodded toward Danny as he picked up the chart from the slot at the foot of the bed. Danny could see the white coated man's expression didn't relax at all as he looked at the information recorded on the forms attached to the aluminum clipboard.
"Are you Detective Williams?" he finally asked as he set the chart back into its holder.
Danny nodded the affirmative telling the sandy haired man, "Commander McGarrett is my boss and partner on the Governor's Special Task Force in Hawaii."
"I'm Doctor Ingstad, we spoke several hours ago. You are a very good advocate for the commander. He has several people who are very worried about him. Actually, to be honest, they should be."
Danny's stomach knotted up as he looked at the alarmed faces of Angela and his father who stood on the other side of the bed.
"We need to talk." said Ingstad, gesturing for Danny to follow him out of the room.
Danny nodded toward Angela and Augie. The unspoken understanding between them that they would continue to stand watch until he returned.
Danny followed the tall man a little way down the corridor to a small alcove with a few couches and chairs. The detective recognized the decor. They could be in any hospital in the country and the vinyl furniture would be the same. Sometimes it would be aqua instead of the ugly burnt orange color that was in front of them.
What idiot schooled in the 'art of ugly' created this hideous decor? thought Danny with that tiny, detached part of himself that wasn't scared shitless about his partner's well-being.
The doctor lead the way to the corner of the area and sat down heavily, gesturing for Danny to sit across from him. Danny was almost too nervous to sit. He perched on the edge of the plastic chair; leaning forward to place his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands between them.
"Detective, let me say one thing . . . your commander is a tough bastard. We can't get him to agree to the ventilator. He'd have been on it by now but he's refused to consent."
Danny smiled ironically. That was a perfect description of his friend . . . a tough bastard.
"Sounds like Steve." sighed Danny, running a hand through his now lank hair. He was seriously annoyed with the SEAL for refusing something that would obviously help.
"Actually, I believe his stubborness is the only thing that's kept him going so far. His system has been overwhelmed with something he's probably been fighting for awhile now. I know over the phone you'd mentioned that you've been on him to gain weight. Has he always been this lean?"
"Uhh, no, actually. He'd lost weight a few months back while on a mission. He's in the Naval Reserves and gets deployed every so often. Last time he went out, he came back quite a bit thinner and he's never really put it back on."
"Where was this mission?" asked Ingstad, seeking confirmation it was the one to South America.
Danny didn't give a damn right now about 'classified' but he had no information to give. "Steve never said where he'd been injured. He'd been gone for three weeks and when he'd come home, he looked like road kill. He had several broken ribs, a concussion and a damaged disk in his back. He'd also had a collapsed lung."
"This was how long ago?"
"About two months or so."
"He's got some injuries that look older than that. What happened before that . . . when he acquired what look like burn scars on his abdomen and possibly some kidney damage as well. Where was he?"
The detective didn't even hesitate; "Korea, North Korea".
Ingstad's eyebrows moved upward. He only nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks Detective Williams. I've got to go now. I've got some more research to do."
"Wait! What's going on with Steve? Why isn't he getting better?"
"Whatever caused the pneumonia has probably been with him for awhile. Whatever bug it is has waited around for the right time to replicate itself and cause real problems. The commander is young and, obviously, keeps himself in shape but, he should be doing better than he has. "
"He's been all over the world in the last few years, he's in the Navy. How long a time are we talking about?"
"There's no way of knowing for certain right now but, my guess is a few months; no longer than a year at most."
"Why did it take so long to get this bad?"
"It needed the commander to get to a low enough point in his immune system's capabilities. Once it took hold, it's been a losing battle. As I said, if your boss wasn't so tough to begin with . . . "
"What would cause his immune system to get so out of whack? Until very recently, he's always been more than healthy."
"Stress, injury, not getting adequate rest . . . stuff like that."
"Well, that's the trifecta of his life right now. As for the stress, that just comes with the territory. I know he hasn't been sleeping well for quite awhile. You already know about the injuries."
"The drugs he'd been given had slowed the infection down but hadn't eliminated it. We've got to pin it down to a specific cause and target it with more effective drugs. Until we know which bug we're dealing with, I don't see how the commander's going to beat this. Of course, we could always get lucky with trying different combinations of drugs . . . "
"He's been a little low on luck lately. I wouldn't count on it." said Danny darkly as he rubbed his hand across his stubbled jaw in frustration.
...
The little cat was restless. He'd lie down only to get up again within a minute or two. He prowled the office like a pint-sized panther. Kono watched him from across the hallway.
He must be sensing something, she thought. Last time he'd been like this, it coincided with the day, if not the exact hour of Steve's injuries. They'd probably never know more than that. Her boss could only tell them so much without violating the damned 'classified' thing.
Cujo made his way to McGarrett's office; lightly hopping up onto the desk and disconsolately plopping himself in the middle of it. He searched around it as if looking for a clue as to where his friend went. Finding nothing, he sat down again and let loose a loud, forlorn howl.
Kono felt her throat tighten. She stood up to go to him; picking him up and cooing at him as she sat herself in Steve's chair. Cujo only looked up at her sadly.
Cujo looks so sad. How can cats register such expression on their faces? she wondered as she clucked and stroked his soft fur. He wasn't purring.
She pulled out her phone to call Danny. She hadn't heard from the detective since he'd landed in Newark and checked in to see if anything of import had happened since he'd left the island.
Nothing unusual had gone on in the last few hours. Only the seasonal B&E's, and the stolen cars whose trunks were filled with holiday purchases. Though the malls were tightly patrolled, the thieves managed to do their share.
In a few more days, there'd be a spike in domestic disputes as the pressure of the holidays was compounded by the effects of its 'refreshments'. HPD was ready for it. It happened every year; inevitable as the brightly colored ornaments hung from the palm trees.
...
Dr. Ingstad rubbed his tired eyes before looking through the microscope one more time. He never knew there were so damned many tropical diseases that would exhibit the symptoms of weight loss, fever, tachycardia, a high white blood cell count and respiratory distress. There were just too many possibilities.
His patient was losing ground even as his doctor searched for a clue to his decline. As long as the commander could hang in there, he'd keep trying to isolate it. He'd already called one of his professors whose specialty was tropical diseases and was waiting for a call back. He hoped it wouldn't be long. His patient didn't have much time left.
Even if they knew what the cause was; would there be a drug available to handle it? Nothing had worked so far. The progression had been slowed but not eliminated.
...
"Anyone seen Cujo?" asked Kono as she stood in the middle of the situation room, hands on hips.
"Not for a couple of hours." answered Lori.
Chin only gave a negative shake of his head.
"He's usually asleep in Steve's out-basket at this hour. Have you checked there?" asked the slender profiler as she too began to sweep the office, looking for sign of the little animal.
"Nope, already checked there."
"Maybe he got locked in the supply closet again?" suggested her cousin.
"I'd better look, just in case." answered the worried woman.
"Careful. If he's in there, he's gonna be pissed." warned Chin.
"Danny's the only one he ever blames for the closet thing." smiled Lori as Kono strode to the janitor's supply closet.
"Just don't take any chances, Cuz."
Kono checked the closet, the cupboards in the breakroom, under everyone's desks, even in some of the half empty file drawers. There was no little grey cat to be found.
...
Dr. Ingstad came quietly into the room. He saw the detective sacked out on the chair next to his patient's bed. The blonde man had been here since yesterday. Others had come and gone, his patient was never alone. Ingstad wondered if he, himself, would warrant such devotion. He knew his ex wouldn't spit on him if he was on fire. He didn't know about his kids. They might look out after their old man but, he wouldn't count on it. They probably wouldn't even miss him until it came time for the tuition payment on their private school.
The tall doctor picked up the chart to look it over. Nothing had changed . . . at least not for the better. The commander stirred slightly as Ingstad moved the sheet aside and pulled down the neck of the hospital gown. There was a soft moan and a grimace as his patient stirred.
The detective startled awake at the sound of his friend's moan and sat up to look anxiously at Ingstad.
McGarrett hadn't come all the way awake, he seemed to lapse back into a restless sleep.
"How's he doing?" asked Danny softly, worry lines creasing his forehead.
"Not that great." said Ingstad bluntly. "His white cell count is higher, as is his temp in spite of the measures we've taken to bring it down." He held up his finger for silence as he pressed the stethoscope to his patient's chest.
"'s cold." murmured McGarrett opening his eyes and blinking as though trying to figure out who the hell was torturing him now.
"Try to go back to sleep commander" said the medic. This was as close to warm and fuzzy as he got. He'd been told his bedside manner sucked . . . it did.
"Been sleepin' too long." murmured Steve as he tried to sit up. Danny was up in a flash to push him back onto the bed.
"Do what the nice man says, Steven." he soothed.
"Jus' wanna sit up, dammit." said McGarrett crankily. This being sick stuff sucks, he was tired of it.
Other than injuries, some of them serious, some not; he'd never been this ill. Even as a kid, he hadn't been prone to the usual illnesses of childhood. He'd caught the 'important' ones like chicken-pox and the like but they'd barely slowed him down . . . much to the annoyance of his mother as she pursued him with thermometer and calamine lotion.
"We'll raise the bed for you, just lay still." said Danny, pressing the button on the bed control. He could hear the raspy sound of his partner's breathing. It sounded labored and harsh. He knew this wasn't good.
Dr. Ingstad waited impatiently for the bed to come to a stop before he applied his refrigerated, (it seemed that way to his patient), stethoscope to McGarrett's ribs.
"Detective, could you please help the commander lean forward for a moment?"
Danny took hold of Steve's shoulders and helped pull him upright and lean forward as Ingstad placed the scope on his back. Just the motion itself brought on a fit of ragged coughing. Danny rubbed his hand over his partner's back in small circles, feeling the too prominent vertebra of his spine and the unrelenting heat of his fevered skin.
He watched Ingstad's face as he listened to the wheezing, noticing the crease between the tall man's brows deepen as he moved the stethoscope up and down his patient's back. "That's enough for now." he said abruptly.
Steve muttered "'bout time" between wheezing breaths.
Ingstad smiled at his patient's comment. He was amazed, considering the latest blood work and his own findings, the man was even conscious right now.
"We have to talk, commander." announced the doctor, motioning to the blonde man standing on the other side of the bed to leave them alone.
"You can say whatever you have to in front of my partner." wheezed Steve.
"Good." said Ingstad as he pocketed his stethoscope. "Your temperature is still too high, your pulse is still too fast and your white cell count is off the charts."
"So, I win the office pool?" faintly smiled the man in the bed.
"Unfortunately, yes."
"What does all that mean for Steve?" asked Danny worriedly.
"It means, he's not getting better in spite of the heavy duty meds he's been given. It means all this is becoming a strain on his heart, which for the moment, is still OK but, it's having to work way too hard. His oxygen saturation level is now borderline abominable as well."
"Is there something that will help?" asked the worried detective; noticing his partner seemed barely able to track the conversation.
"There is but, it's only temporary and I'm afraid the commander isn't going to like it much."
"The commander's right here." said Steve in an annoyed tone; waiting for his doctor to drop the other shoe.
"We've already talked about this once as a possibility, we have to put you on a ventilator. It will help you breath easier and lessen the strain on your body."
"No!" said Steve in a panicky rasp.
"Shut-up, Steven, if it will help, of course you have to do it."
"Danny!"
"Don't look at me for help with this one, I'm on the doc's side." admonished the detective with a faint smile. He'd expected this reaction from Steve. While being on a respirator was not something anyone would wish for, it was particularly difficult for Steve.
It was a terrible claustrophobic feeling for his partner. Unfortunately, they'd been through it before when Steve had been injured seriously enough to require assisted breathing but, in the past, he'd already been unconscious and had nothing to say about it.
"Commander, I have to be honest with you. This is only to buy time. Your condition isn't getting any better and we've got to find out what the hell's making you so ill. I've got someone calling me back sometime this afternoon who should be able to help me pin it down but, at the rate you're going, I'm afraid you may wind up with something we won't be able to help you overcome."
"Like what?" wheezed Steve
"Heart damage . . . and to be extremely blunt . . . your demise."
"Steven, it's OK, I'll be here. We're all here for you. We're not going to leave you alone. It has to be done." soothed Danny.
"Commander, if you don't cooperate, we'll just wait until you're so out of it you won't have a choice but by then, you'll have worsened your condition considerably."
"Shit" muttered the patient, knowing he'd have to give in.
...
"Danny please. I want to go home. Please . . . take me home." begged the distressed man, his pleas turning to incoherent mumbling as he fell back into his fevered darkness.
"Shh, Steven. It's OK. We'll go home soon. You just have to get a little better first. Just get better and I'll take you home."
Danny thought he heard his partner murmur "M'kay" but he wasn't sure. Steve's hair had grown longer and it was now plastered against his head with sweat. He studied his friend's translucently pale face; all sharp angles and planes, his skin seemed to be stretched too tightly over his bones. Even Stella Williams' cooking and care couldn't keep up with it.
He sat in the plastic chair next to the bed, grabbing one of Steve's restless hands as he flailed in a fever induced nightmare.
Danny heard a soft knock and the door opened to reveal Angie coming quietly into the room.
"How's he doing?" she asked softly, taking a chair on the other side of the bed.
"Not that good, Ange. I'm really worried."
The man in the bed shifted restlessly, mumbling something about 'the mission'. Danny brushed the damp hair back from his forehead, shushing him and telling him it was OK, he was safe now.
His breathing had become even more labored and he seemed to drift in and out of sleep. Danny could no longer tell when Steve was actually awake and speaking to him or an unseen someone in his tortured mind.
One time, he'd sat up in bed to look Danny directly in the eye and asked "Did you let Cujo out? You know he's supposed to stay indoors when he's at the office. It's not safe for him out on the streets at night."
"No, Steven. I didn't let him out. He's safe here in the office. You just get some rest."
"Where is he? I think he's lost. I have to find him!"
"No, no. Cujo's safe. He's with Kono and Chin. You know they wouldn't let him out on his own. It's OK, your little buddy is safe. He's probably chewing a hole in someone's ankle as we speak."
"OK, 's good."
With that, Steve lay back down and drifted off once again into restless slumber.
...
That afternoon, they put Steve on the ventilator; he was almost too out of it to even protest at this point.
"Steve, your oxygen levels are too low. You know it's time son." said Augie Williams softly. Steve was nearly struggling for breath now. Every inhale and exhale sounded painful and hard won. Steve nodded his head and Evelyn injected the sedative.
Ingstad had wasted no time in setting up the personnel and machinery to get his patient on the ventilator he should have consented to long ago.
Danny held Steve's hand long enough for the drug to take effect. He gave it one last squeeze when his friend's hand relaxed and became still and he set it back down on the bed and moved away for them to do their work.
"It would be best to leave now." said the nurse they'd come to know as Evelyn. She was tall and broad shouldered with striking features and dark auburn hair. Both Danny and his sister had taken note of the woman.
"I promised him I'd be here." said Danny firmly as Augie Williams quietly left the room.
"Well", said Nurse Evelyn, taking in the blonde man's stony expression, "Just stay out of the way." and she waived him to the corner of the room.
The procedure didn't take long. The intubation was routine. It went quickly and smoothly . . . probably the only thing in a long while that went smoothly for Super SEAL, thought Danny.
He was allowed to approach the bed and once again picked up his friend's hand to hold it in his own. The ventilator kept up a steady rhythm, sounding far less tortured than breathing without it had sounded.
After a few more minutes, Evelyn took the oxygen readings and gave the blond man a thumbs up sign and a slight smile at her findings as she made her notes on the chart.
Danny looked down at a face that was relaxed, peaceful; maybe with a bit of color to it other than blue.
There was a soft knock on the door and Stella Williams quietly entered. She came forward to hug her son and held him tightly for a moment longer than necessary. She both gave and sought comfort in the embrace.
"How's he doing?" she whispered
"He's still holding on. The ventilator should help for now."
"How long will he have to stay on it?"
"No telling right now, Ma. It'll help him get some rest so he can be strong enough to fight this bug. They still don't know what it is."
Stella stood silently next to her oldest while gazing worriedly at her newest. She reached hesitantly to stroke Steve's forehead.
He still feels so warm! she thought as her fingertips brushed his skin. She smoothed his hair back, neatening it and pushing the damp locks into some semblance of order. Steve never stirred.
Danny watched his mother soothe his best friend. Dammit Steven you'd better not die! he thought fiercely. It would break his mother's heart. She's already had one too many heartbreaks. No one had heard from Matty for months.
Steve had no idea how many people he'd affected; some, with his strength and decisiveness; some, with his sometimes awkward sweetness. If he didn't make it - many hearts would break.
Danny knew his own heart and that of his daughter would both be irreparably shattered. Grace and Steve had a special bond; one of playful conspirators against Danny's parental authority. Sometimes they were thick as thieves, plotting mischief. Danny knew Steve would die for Gracie; hell, he would die for any of them and they for him.
Did Steve even know? Does he know there are people who love him fiercely? People who would be devastated if something were to happen to him? Danny, somehow, didn't think so. Steve had been alone for so long, worrying about others for so long . . . how could he?
The few times Danny had roughly teased him about his relationship with Cath . . . Danny referred to it as 'friends with benefits', Steve had only shrugged saying he didn't know what to call it. He didn't know for sure how Cath felt about him.
What the hell is wrong with these people! thought the detective.
...
This time, he wasn't taking any chances. This time, he would do this himself instead of leaving the rather mundane task to one of his incompetent 'assistants'.
Whether Five-0 had anything on them or not, he wasn't going to waste his time with spying . It was time to stop fucking around. They were as good as toast.
The new shipment was almost ready. It had taken weeks to replace the confiscated inventory. He'd be damned if the governor's pet task force was going to fuck it up for him this time.
McGarrett was on the mainland as was one of his detectives. He'd sent someone to take care of them. Someone he could actually trust to get the job done. The old saying is a true one . . . 'You get what you pay for'. Well, he'd paid for the best and McGarrett and his task force were as good as dead.
The last idiot he'd sent to Five-0's headquarters had come running back in terror with some preposterous tale of being chased by a demon.
When asked to describe this demon, the man could only speak of its fearful voice, yellow eyes and deadly teeth and claws.
True, Ricardo did have some interesting looking marks on his body. Long, deep, bloody scratches nearly everywhere and fang marks on his arms and legs. They resembled the damage he'd seen done by a jaguar long ago in the Honduran jungle but on a slightly smaller scale.
Surely, a housecat couldn't do that much damage. Could it? He put aside the thoughts of demons and jaguars and took a steadying breath. This time, it would be done right.
...
The air was damp and cool. There was no sign of his friend. He was sure he'd find him out here somewhere. He searched along the concrete walkway. He searched the cool grass and the leafy bushes that lined it. He sniffed the fragrant breeze. There was no scent of his tall friend. He would find him. He knew he was out here somewhere.
*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*
TBC
A couple of you have wondered if I'm writing about Mr. O'Loughlin rather than the character he plays. I would never be so presumptuous. This is just fiction. I admire Mr. O's courage and continue to wish him the best.
Please let me know what you think of this chapter, if you'd be so kind.