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

Notes: This should have been the final chapter, but the muse is making me hesitate to do that. Jlopie has once again wrangled the bad bunny with some tempering advice ... thank you!

H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O

Inside, he was tingling by the sensations which had touched him. The things he'd allowed in and then discarded. Of course, they'd leave a residue but except for those faint vibrations, they'd entered and gone on without really hurting him. He surprised himself by realizing he could cope with all of it even if he might be seriously weirded out by the experience. They'd flitted through him and were mostly gone. A tiny remnant of a vibration was hardly anything at all to worry about.

If he only had those things to contend with though. If just those things, then Danny knew he would have been okay. But there was more. Specifically, the things he'd permitted in and focused on with an unnatural zeal: the two gunmen, the girl. That supposed hostage who was not exactly a victim in any way, shape or form. So now, Danny breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his eyes watering. What he'd finally done had forced him to learn a few hard lessons. Oddly, those lessons had rewarded him with a mix of clear wins. He remembered channeling Grinnell's arrogance and pride even as he snapped the man's arm in two. He remembered feeling ... almost ... feral. Then after, the guilt and remorse had been crippling. He'd only managed coping though all of it with Steve's help.

What had happened today though was different; still disturbing and off-putting, but far less intense. Most importantly, he hadn't hesitated when it mattered the most and he'd come out now, on the other side, quite intact. He was shaky, maybe still a bit uncertain, but mostly whole and sane. There was a lot to be said for those things. Nonetheless, to stifle that victorious breath, Danny still knew precisely where each one of his bullets had hit home.

An arm. A shoulder. A bloody gut wound, just off center of doing critical damage.

He'd mirror'd each slug as they'd torn into flesh. He'd accepted the consequences anyway, absorbed them and he'd kept going. He hadn't hesitated. He inhaled sharply again and again, unable to shake what he'd just accomplished with the acrid stench of cordite stuck inside his nose. He stared at the two downed men, one quietly moaning in discomfort, and blinked in surprise as he realized something else. Not only hadn't he hesitated, he'd hardly moved an inch at all. Technically, he was still wide out in the open. It was odd error for him to make, but he'd reacted on instinct to fire his weapon, to protect the innocent. And where would he have gone anyway? He'd been in a bad spot from the get-go.

Danny really did smile then, the movement small, his lips shaky. He wobbled where he stood as he slowly lowered his hands because he still had his weapon at the ready. He spared a selfish glance down at his chest. Other than the few cuts and bruises from the contrived car accident, there wasn't a new mark on him. No new signs of blood. No gaping bullet wounds. Nothing. Guns might not have jammed this time, but he'd been blessed in a different way and if he didn't feel so insanely sick to his stomach by what he'd just done, Danny thought he might laugh. Or pass out; passing out might be good too.

He also needed to check on his partner. The positions of the officers nearby. Danny meant to do those things, instead his gaze fell back to the two men who lay prone in front of him and then on to the young woman. Danny's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he settled on her and he came back to reality in a rush of sound and bright vibrant colors. She was on her knees, crying, but virtually crawling her way towards one of the men. The one who Danny sensed was her boyfriend ...or lover. As her fingers closed around the weapon he'd dropped in the brief skirmish, Danny raised his hands back up to the ready once more. What did it really matter how the two were connected? She was part of a dangerous trio ... and then suddenly, she was armed and swinging the gun towards him even while in a half-seated position.

Shit. His head swam unexpectedly as their eyes met. Unconsciously, Danny registered the slender hand tucked against the faux belly. The clarity of her eyes held the truth. Fake. A lie. Some kind of subterfuge lay there in the hopes of guaranteeing some kind of clean getaway. A ploy to gain safe passage. He was positive of that as he far too calmly sighted her body, center mass.

"No. No, no, no. Don't move," Danny said, or at least he thought he said that. His mouth opened and noise came out, some semblance of sound. It might have even been those words, but if he'd managed anything at all, his demand certainly didn't project. Maybe he wasn't as fine as he'd originally thought. In fact, if he had been fine, he never would have let his guard down to allow her to get to a weapon in the first place. Shit. Where was his head at?

"Hey! D-down ... put it down!" He tried again, this time succeeding but knowing it was far too late. In that frozen frame of time shared between them, his fingers tightened on the trigger to his weapon, his eye automatically focused on the kill-shot. Almost in awe, Danny read the same determination in the thin line of the woman's lips, the tightness of her posture. Even if she were a bad shot, they were close. Far too close for her to miss hitting him, too. With a start, Danny realized that they'd likely go down together. One for one. Shot for shot. But it was another gun which rang out a fraction of a second before either of them could make that final commitment.

"Danny! Down, down down!" Steve's voice reached him as if the man was literally in his back-pocket as that shot rang out.

Danny gasped, reacting to the command on muscle memory alone. He dropped hard and rolled, coming up sharply against the rear tire of the pickup truck, his eyes still drawn to the girl's face. He fell beneath cover which was really no protection at all. Stuck there, he watched the woman fall limply to the side, heard her gurgle of pain which resounded inside his own throat. He felt a fluttering inside his chest followed by a fading of a resonance as her eyes captured his one last time.

Danny tried to look away, but he'd seen too much. He anticipated the building up of a vast emptiness which would envelope his senses; take over his core and smother all reason. He anticipated feeling the same as he had with Grinnell; like with the other man back in the garage that first time. But this time, it was no worse than that fluttering which barely lasted more than his own heart beat.

"Steve?" Danny croaked as he scrabbled awkwardly to his feet. He wavered, feeling weak, as he shoved his gun into the rear waistline of his pants so that he could swipe the sweat and blood away from his eye, astonished to see that his hands were finally ... finally shaking from the beginnings of an adrenalin dump ... when he came face to face with his partner. Steve was hobbling on one leg, his hand clenched around the frame of the truck to offer balance.

"You're hit." Danny stated the obvious as he looked him over, swallowing hard when he eyed the bullet wound in Steve's leg. His mouth fell open and he made a face at the dull twinge he inherited. It was as before and he shook his head, gesturing widely. "You're hit. Steve? You okay ... your leg? You need to sit down." He asked and demanded simultaneously, unsure of what to do when he failed at pushing Steve onto the bumper of his truck. "Sit down ... we need a medic. Where the hell are our guys? Huh?"

"Our guys?" Steve scoffed incredulously before he unexpectedly scooped Danny into his chest, a firm slap to his back added for good measure before holding Danny at arm's length. He wobbled on his one good leg, partly using his hold on Danny to keep himself upright, partly refusing to let him go at all.

"Danny. Danny, what the hell just happened?!"

"Sit ... sit d-down ...," Danny stammered, failing now at pulling out of Steve's grip. He was trembling badly and his head was starting to thud. Confusing matters, that spot inside his core smoldered on but he was either growing used to it, or it was much less in its intensity. Focused more on his partner, Danny gestured again to Steve's leg.

"You're hurt ... probably b-bleeding to death." Danny grimaced and then shook his head to clear it from a brief buzzing. His leg mirrored an odd pulsing quiver. A disturbing feeling and Danny wondered how Steve could even be standing, let alone the wherewithal to have his back to take out the girl. To trust him implicitly that he'd been right about her deceit with no tangible proof whatsoever. Distressed by that, Danny thumbed his temple near the gash, wincing at the ache he caused himself. His next words came out in an uncontrollable, breathless ramble. "You're hurt ... your damned leg! Are you okay? No, no you're not ...of course you're not ... but we need an ambulance."

"Me? Am I okay?" Steve blurted breathlessly. "Danny ... what the hell is going on?" He glanced worriedly to the girl he'd just killed and then over to the two gunmen. HPD officers were already there and taking the scene into hand; more sirens could be heard now in the background. Everything had happened within a matter of minutes although it had felt like hours.

An officer had taken a knee by the young woman, his face grim and a good enough confirmation of her state. Out of some kindness, he made to reposition the hem of her blouse which had ridden up on one side. But he gasped loudly when he saw what peeked out.

"Holy shit," the man mumbled as he poked inquisitively at a soft, white material. "This is ... this is incredible."

"What?" Steve asked sharply and Danny winced as his fingertips dug into his arms. "What is it?"

"She's deceased, Sir," the officer reiterated. "But, this?" He glanced towards Danny awestruck, then to Steve. "She's wearing a prosthetic pad or cushion ...she's not pregnant, Sir. Never was. What the hell kind of game were these three playing at?"

Instead of answering him directly, Steve shook his head and gave Danny a little shake. "How did you know that?" He asked quietly. "How did you know she was in on it? How in god's name are you not dead right now?" Steve paused, his tone serious and his voice dropping to a mere whisper. "Are you okay ... Danno? Inside ... are you all right?"

When confronted with this question, Danny took another tally of himself, holding his hands up between them. They were both shaking and Danny was truly nauseous now from the adrenalin dump, the ache in his head and no doubt, what he'd just gone through. How did he feel though ... and was he all right? Based on his personal history, those were different questions indeed.

His hands were shaking. His palms were sweaty. His entire body was trembling. That wretched place inside his chest was cloying and hot, but he could almost cope with it. Danny glanced into Steve's face before looking over to the gunmen, then to where the girl lay. She was now hidden from view, her body draped by a white sheet. He'd been right and not only had Steve trusted him, Danny had trusted himself. So, how was he?

"Danno?" Steve pressed, his tone laced with concern. "Are you okay ... are you all right?" He still had his hands wrapped around Danny's upper arms. A subtle tremor echoed through his fingers to Danny's skin and they seemed to be holding each other up now. They were both hurting, inside and out. Each of them had been both stretched to their limits that afternoon and Danny almost laughed out loud at the idea of walking around the shopping mall. Why-ever had he been so worried about something as simple as that? The two of them regarded each other long and hard. Measuring and cataloging what they saw and what they thought they understood about the other. After a minute, Danny shrugged and managed a genuine smile, even if it might be a bit uncertain.

"Yeah, yeah," he finally whispered back as he changed tactics to grip Steve's forearms, his intent clear. "I think I am ... I think I'm good." It was the truth and Danny kept his smile when Steve finally allowed himself to be gently guided to sit on the rear bumper of his pickup truck, Danny propped next to him.

~ to be continued ~