A/N: Okay...whew. Banged this one out really quick...as per the usual, lemme know if there're any errors please. :) Thanks very much and I hope you enjoy!
Edit: Fixed a slight error found by AtlantisGirl12. Thankyouthankyouthankyou! Carry on!
Warning: Language gets a little worse than usual in this chapter.
Disclaimer: Really, if you lawyer people don't get it by now, I don't see the need to keep reminding you.
Ten
"HPD got a hit on one of the guys the boss left alive," Kono reported back at Five-0's offices, throwing a picture up onto the screen. "Ford Jones." The boyish face that greeted them was decorated with a cocky smirk, blonde hair and laughing green eyes. "Jacket on this guy is about six inches thick. Started when he was fourteen with small-time burglaries in California and worked his way up."
"Okay," Danny said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Have we got any hits on the cell phone?"
"Nothing yet." Chin, on the opposite end of the high-tech community table, pulled up a screen of what appeared to Danny to be a string of numbers. "All the data Forensics got off the phone was heavily encrypted, and apparently all incoming calls were scrambled through different satellites, making it very difficult to track the calls to a point of origin."
Danny gritted his teeth. "Can we do anything to un-scramble them?"
"Maybe. It's going to take awhile, though." Chin offered a sympathetic shrug.
"Any word from the streets? Anyone at all talking about who contracted the hit?" Danny persisted, his tone caught between irritated and desperate. Chin shook his head slowly, looking cautious. Danny heaved a heavy sigh. "Damn…so we're basically adrift until we get Mary or Steve awake and talking."
"We'll find something, Danny," Kono reassured him. "We're gonna get these guys."
Danny nodded slowly in agreement, rubbing at his forehead with one hand as he placed the other hand on his hip. His cell phone rang, and with a furrowed brow he removed it from its holster at his hip and answered. "Yeah, Williams here."
"Detective Williams, I'd appreciate it if the three of you could join me at the hospital as soon as you can." Briella's voice was tinged with concern, and Danny frowned.
"Sure, of course. What's up? Is he okay?" he asked, growing more frantic as he spoke.
"He's fine, for the most part. But I'm going to need you three here, if we hope to get him through this part of the recovery process."
"Okay. We'll be there within the hour." He hung up, and looked up to two pairs of questioning, worried eyes. "Briella needs us at the hospital."
"Let's go, then. We'll come back to this." Chin acted as the calm to Danny's storm, and gently guided both his teammates to the door.
Briella met them in the hall outside Steve's room, and ushered them into a little conference area nearby that Danny was sure they weren't supposed to be using. She closed the door, keeping the blinds open so that they could see across the hall into Steve's room. Her eyes were gentle and concerned as they lingered on the commander's prone body for a moment, then she turned.
"Steve reopened the wounds in his chest and thigh, for the second time now," she said at last, meeting the steady gazes before her. "He's been struggling against the doctors and nurses caring for him, even under sedation. It occurs to me that we must take more drastic measures—I'd like someone to watch over him, but it's obvious that he doesn't trust anyone here that he doesn't know."
"We can stay with him, take shifts," Danny said at once.
Briella smiled. "That is exactly what I hoped you would say, Detective Williams." Her smile flickered, then faded. She grew thoughtful, glancing back toward the unconscious commander's room. "The injuries he's sustained, coupled with the emotional traumas in the past few months—that, let's face it, he probably hasn't dealt with properly—have left him vulnerable to severe symptoms of post-traumatic stress. He's been experiencing some sleep paralysis and active hallucinations…" She sighed and gesticulated sharply with one hand. "It's not going to be easy. There's likely to be sizable gaps in his memory—so he may not recognize you at once."
"Like when we first found him," Chin surmised.
"Exactly like that."
"How did you know, by the way?" Danny asked, narrowing his eyes. Briella shot him a querying look. "About him not recognizing us."
"I told you, Detective, I'm an old friend. I've seen this once before. The signs and symptoms typically remain the same in a patient."
"Right, you mentioned that a couple times now. But I'm curious…when did you work with McGarrett before?" Danny asked. He had to admit, he didn't like interrogating the woman, but she hadn't offered any answers yet—and his mood was pretty bad, making him more irritable than usual.
Briella smiled—and Danny was beginning to realize that it was a disarming move just as well as a comforting one. "Steven and I…have a complicated history. I was assigned to assess and treat his Team before and after a very…interesting operation in Naples, then again following a tour in Afghanistan. But I knew of him before then." She tapped a finger against her cheek thoughtfully. "How best to describe my role to the McGarrett family…? Oh. I know." She smiled with great amusement at the Jersey native. "You can think of me as McGarrett's babysitter."
Danny quirked a brow, and glanced sidelong at Chin's bemused expression. "Hey," Kono said in amusement, "it's not like the boss doesn't need one."
"Yeah but that doesn't answer my—"
"I'm really quite sorry, Detective," Briella interrupted Danny's rant. "But I think Steve should be the one to tell you any more than that." She switched topics abruptly, effectively cutting off Danny's questions. "So will it disrupt your investigation much if you take shifts sitting with Steve to keep him calm?"
Danny looked nonplussed, his hands moving as though he wasn't quite sure what to do. Chin stepped forward, a hand on Danny's shoulder stilling him as he said, "No, we can manage both."
"Thank you," Briella said sincerely. "It will be a great help."
"Hey, he's our friend, too," Danny grumbled. Briella bit her lip and looked away to hide her amusement as Danny looked first confused, then surprised, then annoyed as he realized what he'd said.
"I'm sure Steve will appreciate the sentiment, Detective," she finally said.
That was it. Danny was kidnapping Grace, and moving back to Jersey. Screw Hawaii.
Briella had volunteered to stay with Steve until his teammates could work out a suitable schedule to include the investigation and sleep—not that any of them had thought of the latter when they were initially speaking about this schedule. That had been Briella's idea, and she was thankful for the silent force that was Chin Ho Kelly—his backup insistence had been necessary to divert Danny's wild irritation.
She watched the steady rise-and-fall of Steve's chest, narrowing her eyes at the nasal cannula that had replaced the ventilator keeping him breathing. The Navy and HPD had each lent several of their men to watch Steve's room for any possible danger, but Briella figured that they wouldn't see anyone in the hospital—at least, not in broad daylight. No, the more immediate dangers to this man under her care were the ones she couldn't see physically.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a slight chirp from her pocket. Frowning, she extracted her cell phone from her jacket and immediately grumbled as she answered, "Michael, I don't think I'm supposed to be on a cell phone in ICU."
"Sorry, Brie. Wanted to let you know that we've cleared the rubble that was once McGarrett's house. Don't see anything missing, but I can't find the box you told me to look for. I'm guessing your commander there must have hidden it, because it's obvious what these guys were here for. Minimal search damage, major shoot-to-kill damage."
"That's fine. I just want to make sure it's secure there. Call Raph, he'll be able to help you."
"Raph?" Michael's voice sounded distinctly like a whine. "Brie, Raph and I don't get along too great. You know that."
"He's the best at securing a perimeter," Briella returned sharply. "And you're not calling the shots. I want that house safe for Steve to return to once he makes it through this."
"You think he's going to want to be here?" Michael pressed. "I mean, Lieutenant Rollins died in his bedroom, Brie."
Briella sighed again, briefly pressing her fingers against her temple. "We'll see what happens. In the meantime, focus on the task at hand."
"Yes, Boss."
Briella hung up the phone, cursing to herself as she looked up to check on Steve.
Two glassy, dull blue eyes blinked at her, half-hooded but alert.
Briella overturned the chair she had been occupying as she stood, rushing to his side. "Steve." His eyes met hers, blinking blearily. "Steve, do you hear me? Can you understand what I'm saying?"
A slight flicker, a furrowing of his brow. "Gabby…?"
Briella let loose a sigh, reaching to run her fingers over his clammy forehead. "You recognize me. That's good, Steve. That's good."
Steve struggled to focus on her, his lips moving as he said brokenly, "Don't…something…happened?"
"Yes, Steve. Something happened. Do you remember anything?" She already knew he didn't, just reading the confusion in his eyes as he watched her.
"Can't…not…much…" Steve's face contorted in agony, and he tried to roll away from her.
"Steve? Steve!" Briella tried to still his movements, but he thrashed against her. "A little help in here!" she called into the hallway, alerting the nearest nurse who came rushing in. "Steve, Steve, calm down…" She wrestled his arms as best she could, nearly climbing onto the bed with him to keep him down and as still as she could.
Briella threw a sharp glance at the nurse, who was holding the IV line which miraculously hadn't been pulled out yet by Steve's resistance. "Anytime now, Beatrice," Briella hissed. The nurse nodded, managing to add the sedatives to the IV. It took a few moments, but Steve's movements gradually slowed, then stilled. Briella nearly collapsed against him, breathing deeply in relief. Steve's eyes met hers once more, his lashes fluttering.
"Steve?" Briella asked, touching his cheek.
Steve's eyes alit in recognition, and he murmured groggily, "Gabriella…" Then his eyes rolled back, and he was out. Briella heaved a sigh, climbing to her feet as she shifted her hand from his cheek to his arm, squeezing it gently.
"I'm here, Steve. I'm here." She looked up at the nurse, who made a note on Steve's chart before leaving them. Briella watched her go, then leaned to murmur to the still commander. "I'm here…I'm not going anywhere."
Kono dug her knee in between Alan Harlan's shoulder blades, smiling in a nearly-sadistic way at his cry of pain. "Wanna try that again?" she asked, referring to the man's attempt to squirm away from her just a moment ago.
"Oh, God—no, no, I won't try to run. Just please let me the hell up, you're breaking my arm!"
Kono jerked her grip suddenly, Alan's shoulder grinding painfully beneath her hands. "Trust me, I can do a lot worse than that," she said. "Now tell us about Ford Jones. Who hired him for the hit?"
Danny and Chin Ho stood nearby, and Danny nudged the Hawaiian slightly, giving him a wide-eyed look of surprise as he tilted his head in Kono's direction. "I've never seen her like this before," he muttered aside to Chin.
Chin smirked. "Wait 'til she gets really angry," he returned, and Danny couldn't help but wonder if that was really a hint of pride he detected in his friend's voice.
They'd followed Jones' history very carefully, and Kono had been the one to realize that Jones and Harlan had worked together regularly on low profile bank robberies along the coast. When they'd run Harlan's name through HPD, they'd found out that he was in Hawaii along with his buddy. It hadn't taken them long to track him down—Harlan was bad at covering his tracks.
The man moaned in agony, banging his head against the pavement. "God, you're a ferocious bitch! Ford woulda liked you." He choked out a laugh. "Woulda liked you a lot."
"I didn't ask you about what type he preferred," Kono growled, pulling on his arms tighter to incite a squeal of pain. "I asked you about the job he was working. Tell me who contracted Jones!"
"Man, I don't know nothing about no hit on a cop!" Alan screeched.
Kono looked up with a quirked brow to meet the gaze of her cousin as Chin knelt by Alan's head. "Nobody said anything about it being a contract to kill a cop," Chin said lowly.
Alan froze, then began to scream curses at them. "You goddamned cops! I hope Jones did a real number on that son of a bitch! I hope he hurt him good! Don't nobody in the streets of Hawaii like that McGarrett bastard. He's bad for busin—ackowowowOW you bitch!" He spat, a vein pulsing in his temple at the sudden force with which Kono had just twisted his arm back. "You fucking bitch! I'll kill you, you bitch! I'll fucking kill you!"
"Down, girl," Danny said, joining Chin near Alan's head. "That's our partner you're talking about down there, you scumbag. You may want to watch how you speak—Kono here doesn't like hurtful words."
"Look—all I know is that this guy was someone Jones'd been talking to for awhile. Jones never spoke directly with the suit in charge, only this old ex-Navy freak and this other guy…weirdo with an accent."
"Okay, okay. This accented weirdo got a name?" Danny asked.
"Aw, fuck if I know, man! Can you call off your canine here?"
"Kono?"
Alan screamed again as Kono dug a knuckle into the pressure point behind his shoulder blade. "Fine!" he ground out. "Fine…dude's name was August."
"August what?" Danny prompted, nudging Alan with the toe of his shoe.
"I don't know, okay! He just said his name was August and him and the old guy were working for the suit to try and kill McGarrett. The old guy seemed to think it'd be fun, but it was like, personal for August."
"Okay. August with an accent," Danny said. "You've been a wonderful help, Mr. Harlan, thank you." Kono dragged Harlan up to his feet and released him to a police officer who stood nearby. Danny waited until she'd joined him and Chin before he tapped the back of his hand into his palm, listing what they'd learned. "So we've got a few players here—this August guy, the suit, and the old man…who I'm assuming is Body Number 15 from McGarrett's little warzone." His phone chirped once, and he scowled at it before he checked the text message. "God I hate messaging—why don't people just freakin' dial the number and talk—" His eyes went wide as they moved again over the message, checking to make sure it said what he thought it said.
"Danny?" Kono poked him.
He looked up at the cousins, his blue eyes blinking hard. "Steve woke up for a few minutes. Briella wants one of us to go see him, in case he comes to again."
There was a short pause as the three members of Five-0 shared a moment of silence. Then, Kono nudged Danny toward the Camaro. "You go on, Danny—we'll meet you there later."
Danny nodded his gratitude before he parted ways with them. Steve had woken up. Steve might wake up again soon. He couldn't help but send a short prayer of thanks heavenward, before he began praying again—praying that his partner would be okay.