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

Notes: love the reviews and interesting opinions on Leon! Everyone is right about one thing: he's not what he first seemed to be.

H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O

Danny opened his eyes, slowly and with a lazy fluttering of his lashes as he tried to focus on unfamiliar surroundings. He lay there quietly for a time just staring at the unfamiliar view of a large floor to ceiling window partially hidden by elaborate vertical blinds. The blinds were a soft ivory color and were swaying to an odd circulation of cold air which he blearily realized only meant the air conditioning had been cranked up in the room. Every so often, they'd move just enough where he could see a dim sparkle of sky.

He didn't know where he was. He didn't remember and yet, wasn't even remotely startled by those facts.

A subtle movement brought a deep ache to the back of his neck and Danny closed his eyes, wincing through the repercussions of having been through a fist fight. He forced himself to think, his confusion growing exponentially when he came up nearly blank. Lying there tiredly, Danny racked his brain harder, slowly settling on at least a name: Leon.

As he lay there, the only thing which he could be sure about was having been drugged. His brain was too murky and much too difficult to wade through. He felt both heavy and mysteriously disembodied, utterly uncertain of vague memories and muted whispers which ghosted through his head. He was decidedly uneasy, too.

Something was wrong. A danger which included Grace. Steve.

He'd had a dream before waking. A terrible dream about Steve. A dream where his friend lay slumped in a puddle of red, looking entirely ... dead. Danny heaved in a deep shuddering sigh as he fought to get the dream back, but the fractured images of blood were nearly gone now that he'd woken. Parts of it felt real, yet were so fleeting, he couldn't be certain. Left with something else to be entirely uncertain of, Danny felt a brief flare of trepidation which fled him just as quickly. As if his feelings were a flame doused by water, he was numb a moment later.

Unable to get his bearings, Danny frowned, his eyes opening once more to stare at the gentle sway of the blinds. He shivered first at the black hole in his memory and then by a very real feeling of being truly cold, confused to find he was shirtless as he fumbled for the covers to shield himself from the chill of the cold room. Baffled by the fact he was wearing just a pair of dove-gray sleep pants and nothing else while lying in a bed he didn't recognize.

"Good, you're finally awake," a male voice intoned from the foot of the large bed. "I doubt you remember much, so I'll fill you in. You're to eat now. You're hungry."

"What happened?" Danny mumbled while tiredly pulling himself into a seated position. He stared almost dumbly at the big man - Leon - knowing he should be more alarmed by where he was and yet unable to put a finger on any of his fleeting thoughts or feelings.

The big man's face was bruised and his lip was swollen. Danny carefully rubbed the back of his own aching neck in response. Vague images of Leon's face, Spenser's hands on his skin where they caressed his arms or chest, flit teasingly through his mind and Danny scowled darkly as his breath caught in his throat.

"Fuck," he whispered as he glanced down to his bare chest and then to the balled up t-shirt left sloppily on the floor nearest the blinds. "What the fuck happened?"

"Put this on." A clean version of that same shirt was rudely tossed his way at nearly the same time and – startled - Danny blinked as his fingers automatically closed around the material. He mumbled yet another curse as he stared at the light blue cotton before severely pinching the space between his eyes.

"I need ...," he murmured under his breath to no one in particular. "I need ... to leave. Get out." His mind wandered of its own accord though, and he heaved a sigh which seemed to bring little oxygen into his body, let alone his brain. It was a senseless plea as he continued to nervously pull the fabric through his fingers. His thoughts scattered almost instantly - straying briefly to Steve - and Danny shook his head in confusion.

Blood. Steve's house and Steve ... sprawled almost on his back. Was he dead or alive? ... Had it really happened at all? With his brain refusing to cooperate, Danny couldn't be sure of anything at all. Even sitting in the bed at that moment was surreal. Therefore, that made these faint images which were creeping into his mind some sort of recurring nightmare - along with where he'd woken to find himself - and Danny giggled sharply.

"It's all a nightmare," he chuffed out, another giggle startling the big man standing over him. "It has to be, right? All of this is just some fucking ridiculous ... nightmare. You? That maniac? All a nightmare."

"Stop whining. Shut up and get dressed," Leon hissed, seemingly angered by his oddly fluctuating emotions as hazy eyes glistened back up to him. Disgusted by the drugged affect of his charge as he simply sat idly in the bed, Leon shook his head at his own ludicrous situation. "This is just fucking great. I'm no god-damned babysitter! Get dressed. You need to eat something and I'm not going to say it again."

Though the next giggle choked in his throat, Danny didn't move as Leon glared down long enough for him to look away.

"Nightmare." Danny dug his fingernails into his wrist, hard enough to draw half-moons in dented skin. It clearly hurt as he gazed at the marks and a cold breeze circulated over his bare shoulders. There was zero doubt that this was real. The big man and the fact that Danny was half-dressed in some king-sized bed were both quite real. Yet Danny had no idea what Spenser wanted with him - or why indeed he was even back on the Island. He wasn't sure which bothered him more: the fact that he had apparently been kidnapped and knew nothing of the fate of his team; or the real reason for McCann's return to Oahu.

"I have to get out of here. This can't be happening … it can't be real," Danny whispered, suddenly sickened by the sheer extremes he'd been brought down to. His head throbbed warningly and Danny glanced worriedly up into Leon's annoyed black eyes.

"What happened?" Danny whispered again, this time nearly pleading with his unfriendly guard. "What's going on out there ... can you tell me anything?"

Where he woke to find himself was wrong … so very, very wrong. Distracted by a stray thought of his daughter, Danny's eyes dimmed. He shook his head to dispel a dizzying feeling of vertigo as Leon ignored him to stalk over to the bed, whipping the blankets away from his body before Danny realized his intent.

"You do remember how to get dressed, right? Put the damned shirt on; get up; and eat," Leon demanded as he roughly pulled Danny from the bed by his arm. He grabbed the clean t-shirt only to slap it into Danny's bare chest to signal his ongoing requirement. "Shirt. Food. You haven't eaten in hours."

Struggling into the t-shirt, Danny was beginning to feel physically sick though. His stomach churned uncomfortably; not only regarding where he was, but also at the idea of eating.

Drugs. His years of experience threatened his beleaguered mind with their warning. He'd been drugged to be so compliant. He knew that was true as he allowed the big man to herd him into the penthouse's dining room. He swayed and wobbled badly enough for Leon to have to hold him up on the way.

Since they fluctuated, his emotions were nearly as untouchable as the nailing down of a single valid thought in his head. He was off balance in so many ways; he simply did as he was told when Leon shepherded him from bedroom to dining room because he had no real choice in the matter.

Danny stumbled to an awkward halt next to the chair which Leon shoved him towards. He'd almost forgotten why he'd wound up in the dining room. He frowned at the table and then the high-backed chair. He didn't want to sit and he certainly didn't want to eat. In silence, he stood there, refusing to take a seat at the table when he saw the finely ornate setting for one. Ornate except for the plastic-ware next to the fine china and crystal water glass.

He wasn't to be trusted. That was clear. Regardless, this was an orchestrated plan designed by Spenser McCann and he didn't want to participate. If this were the only thing he could fight against, then so be it. Danny would fight, as childish as it might appear to be.

So he simply stood there, a hand to his face and another tiredly scrubbing his hair as he tried to make sense of what he should do. Of what he could do depending upon what happened next.

"Do you remember my name?" His appointed babysitter suddenly asked. Based on the continually perturbed expression, Danny understood the question to be a test and he paused to force the name back into his brain.

"Leon?" he said. "Maybe." Managing a relieved shrug when he received a curt affirmative nod in reply. Even he could congratulate himself on at least remembering one thing amongst the confusing fractured thoughts swimming inside his head. Unable to settle on single thing, he felt decidedly off balance and physically ill as the room rippled oddly.

"Good. At least there's that. Now you listen. You can trust me on one thing," Leon said knowingly as he physically pushed Danny into the chair and resentfully shoved a dome covered plate in front of him. "He's done this before. Many times. If you don't eat on your own, you'll wind up regretting it. McCann has his ways, none of which will be very pleasant for you. Now eat."

Danny breathed in deeply through his nose to dispel a surge of nausea. He considered arguing and fighting Leon, but he was shaky and distinctly out of sorts. He even had trouble finding the energy to spark an anger which would have been entirely justified.

"What did you give me?" Danny asked; his brow heavily creased. He knew he'd been given something. Something which had made him sleep and now kept him almost numb.

His hands shook as he removed the plates' cover, dumbly identifying the meal as pasta primavera and feeling instantly nauseated by the smell wafting under his nose. For some reason, he'd anticipated a breakfast meal. But he couldn't think clearly and certainly didn't feel like eating no matter what the offering. Then, there were the questions about Grace … and - God help him - Steve.

"I can't," Danny said, the silver dome falling from his fingers with a ringing clang down over the food. He closed his eyes and tried to settle. He tried to think, but his brain seemed as numb as the rest of his body. "What did McCann do? What did he give me?'

"I wouldn't worry about it," Leon bluntly replied, utterly impatient with the continued questioning. "I'd worry about eating. Do as you're told and we'll all get along just fine." He scowled though as he checked the time. He knew Dylan Walker and his skin had started to tingle in warning. The volatile second was due to arrive and if he came before McCann returned, Leon would have his hands full.

"Eat," he growled. "After, you're going back in the bedroom and you'll stay there until the boss gets back. You're allowed to shower but the door stays open … there's no locks on any of the inside doors anyway. Then, no TV. No radio. You can have a book or a magazine … or hell, go back to sleep for all I care. But you're going to stay in the bedroom."

Danny frowned again, his head wanting to wobble awkwardly on his neck. He had a fleeting memory of almost taking down the big man looming over him. Now, he thought. Now would be the perfect time when he should take advantage and attempt the door for the emergency stairwell, but he must have accidentally communicated the sentiment based on the loud amused snort.

"Are you fucking serious?" Leon had to laugh out loud as the detective's fingers fisted and his lips tightened thinly. "As much as I'd love to finish our earlier match, you can barely walk a straight line!"

A smile transformed his face, tugging painfully at the bruised lip, almost making him appear to be likeable for a short instance. "Listen, and listen up good. Dylan's going to be here soon. Very soon. If that's not enough reason to stay out of the way … then I don't know what is."

Dylan Walker. The name set something off inside. A warning bell, though he wasn't afraid. Not really, yet a strange worrisome feeling settled in his belly and Danny looked up from the plate of food. Leon wasn't smiling anymore. He was deadly serious. There was a very strong hint that mock valet turned disgruntled babysitter would soon become unenthused bodyguard.

"Eat and hurry up about it," Leon said. He paused though thinking hard on saying something important; wondering if he should bother or if what he knew would bring some future recompense on his head.

"God dammit," he swore under his breath. He argued silently with himself about this kind gesture, the only evidence of that internal argument the anger which lifted his lips into an ugly sneer. He shouldn't care and he shouldn't even care enough to spend the time considering it. Yet, as he stared at the distressed detective, Leon found himself … feeling as if he should share a bit of what he knew despite the risk to himself.

He glared hatefully at the seated man before slapping the table hard enough to topple one of the empty crystal water glasses. The detective couldn't hide the reactive flinch as his hands balled into fists in readiness for an anticipated one on one battle.

"If you so much as breathe wrong, I'll kill you," Leon vowed dangerously. He leaned forward across the table, his hand inches from the dinner plate. He waited until Danny looked full at him, the blue eyes somewhat muddied by the drugged contents of the thin skin patch which was invisibly adhered to the small of his back. However, there was still a defiant light just barely able to gleam underneath. Leon snorted softly under his breath, appreciative of McCann's abilities to recognize another soldier of sorts.

"Your partner's out of surgery and is resting comfortably. There have been no complications."

"What?" Danny's voice broke on the simple word. "What?" The bloody image of Steve in his house, slumped against the wall, now shook him to the core. Real. Not dream. And Danny's breathing altered at the stunning revelation about the oddity of his unsettled feelings.

"Steve? He was ... shot." He partially rose from where he sat only to crash back down when his legs wouldn't hold him up. The dim images of his friend slouched against a wall were real then. "God dammit. He was shot ... that happened. God damn McCann!"

He hissed the words under his breath, dizzy and forestalling a sob inside his chest just before he was suddenly stunned into silence by another truth. Grace. There was more. Something was wrong with her, too, and yet he couldn't understand what ... or why. He only knew he'd experienced something incredibly threatening of her safety.

Suddenly unable to express himself, Danny stared at Leon for a good long time. Entirely confused and knowing he should press for more information, he simply couldn't find the words at first. His brain was deadened and it took him time to pull a new consideration together and he nearly applauded himself as sweat beaded his forehead and a few other rational thoughts tumbled through his brain.

How did Leon know ... better yet, why would Leon choose to tell him? Did he know anything about his daughter, too? Doubtful of the man's intentions, Danny stared at him because maybe what he'd shared was more cruel joke than truth.

But Leon hadn't moved and his expression hadn't changed. No one was laughing and the mood was entirely serious. Danny kept staring at the man, his eyes straining to focus on a nearly unreadable expression to be sure he wasn't missing some subtle hint of a lie.

"Steve? He's ... how bad ... is he all right?" Danny carefully asked, wanting more but only needing to confirm one key thing: that his friend was alive.

Instead of directly answering though, Leon drew himself back up to his full height. He continued to glare at the detective until the man made the right decision and accepted the truth of what he'd shared.

"Eat." Leon still wondered why he'd bothered as he pointed to the large bowl of food. Despite the gratitude he'd just earned as made evident merely by the watery look in the man's eyes, he'd taken a terribly senseless chance and likely for nothing.

"No, I want more," Danny stammered suddenly. He forced his fingers into a fist, his head shaking in denial as he tried to adamantly thump the table because his he'd nearly forgotten. "What about ... Grace? My daughter? Something happened ... tell me."

"The kid's fine. Now, shut up, and eat the damned food," Leon growled in warning, tensing as he heard a distant sound in the hallway. That noise didn't bode well and he grimaced. He'd also opened a can of worms with the detective and was now regretting his spontaneous act of goodwill as the man's shining eyes begged to hear the truth and the hum grew louder. "That's all I've got ... now eat! Damnit!"

"But, you know ... you ...," Danny's voice faded as he blinked up at Leon in confusion because he'd finally heard the sound, too. His brain hadn't clicked nearly as quickly as Leon's though. He didn't understand anything about the man's change in temper or his new rise in agitation at the mechanical hum emanating from just outside the penthouse. All that had happened was a disruption in his thought pattern as he forgot what he wanted to say. The motorized sound of the elevator increased as it came closer and Leon glared angrily down at Danny, a warning finger jabbed in his direction when his mouth flapped open.

"Quiet! Not a word! He's here already. Sit there and keep your mouth shut," Leon cursed softly again when he heard the tell-tale sound of deep voices just outside the front door and the gold handle began to shift downwards to open. "Shit. Here we go."

~ to be continued ~