I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: got nuthin. Back on track though w the muse.
H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O
Danny came half aware out of a deep sleep still immersed on the tails of an intense nightmare. A knee juddered and then a muscular ripple flowed through Danny's tense shoulders. He kicked out when his whole body jerked wildly as if falling, and he partially woke, drenched in sweat. Lost and confused. Not sure he could hear; not sure he could see it was so dark. With his brain not cooperating at all, Danny juddered hard again. Gasping and utterly turned around. He didn't know where he was or what he was supposed to do. For the life of him, he couldn't think at all. He made a sound though. Lying there on his side, his eyes only just partly opened and yet not really seeing the wall of the bedroom, he mewled in his throat.
"Come on. Someone had to have seen! Hurry it up!" The voices were inside his head and he was stuck inside the nightmare of the car crash. He was stuck there, not seeing the master bedroom, but the steaming, crumpled heap of metal that used to be his car.
He'd unbuckled himself and dragged himself clear of it. He'd been on an incline though, facing the wrong way, wracked with pain. He'd scrabbled out on his belly just so far until gravity rolled him a good many feet away from the wreck. He could see it then, upside down, smoking. Its wheels were still turning while it lay stranded on its back like some damaged turtle. The smell … he could smell all of it. The foul odor of burned out rubber, hot metal on metal … the burning stink was stuck in his nose.
He saw a shapes in his mind's eye. Heard their - no - his words. No. He didn't understand. Saw? … Yes, he saw the glint of gold. Babbled in a moment of relief. A dark blue uniform. A badge. But … no … but? Danny instinctively knew this officer wasn't there to help him, but he was too injured to protect himself. Too dazed to understand all of it.
Voices. Words. Speech.
"RJ, are you s-sure?"
A name. Was it real? Had that happened?
"Get him up! I don't care about the blood…I want him gone. I want McGarrett looking in all the wrong places."
Danny choked and bit back a moan of remembered pain as he roused outside of his nightmare. Or memory? Was this real ... had it been real? He'd been grabbed up, dragged away to a van. He'd lost time. Blacked out from pain and shock. Heard things he didn't understand. Felt nothing but a mind-numbing pain.
Airplane. Small. Loud. Its overly strong vibrations reverberating through his battered body. The tonal hum deafening him, pushing him back under in a torrent of pain. Then after ... the same voices in his head - over his head - that horrible sensation of his broken body being dragged, moved and his pain being mocked.
"He won't survive this. He'll be dead by morning … that'll teach him to fuck with me."
"RJ ... what if we get caught?"
"Shut up, you stupid ... idiot! No one is going to ever know!"
His clothes had been stripped from his body. Wallet, badge, ID … all gone.
"H-help m-me …" he breathed out his plea to his persecutor, blood on his lips. In his mouth. But the pain only kept coming. His head had been pulled back by the roots of his hair, only half-aware and snorting up even more bloody phlegm, Danny saw the dim profile of a man in front of him.
Sleek dark hair. Dark eyes. White teeth gleaming in the moonlight.
HPD uniform perfectly fitted. So, so clean. Too clean. Too perfect. Wrong. It was all so wrong.
Hang on buddy-boy," the snide voice jested just before he'd been shoved. "Steve ain't ever gonna find your body way the hell out here. And by the time someone … might … there ain't gonna be 'nuthin left to ID. And by then ... Steve will be with me. He'll be mine. You won't even be a fucking memory."
He'd been pushed hard. Maybe even kicked. Had it mattered by that point? There had been a brief sensation much like floating before he'd hit the ground. A white hot bolt of pain had seared his head … his chest … and then he just kept falling. Dizzying. Sickishly flopping along in a nonstop spiral of pain. Head over heels. Picking up speed. His arms and legs flying like a rag doll through the air as he windmilled helplessly away into the pitch of night.
With a terrified whine stuck inside his chest, Danny crawled himself forward and went so far as to fall out of the bed, all of the bedding gone with him. Legs entangled in the material, he hit the floor hard on his shoulder.
"RJ." Danny opened his eyes wide as he whispered a name to a darkened bedroom. "RJ."
He couldn't shake the terror twisting his chest and scuttled to his feet, off-balance, still confused. The silence of a deadened house surrounded him. It was late. He could sense it. Something was terribly wrong and a sour taste of bile flooded his throat. He had a name and maybe even a reason. Where was Steve?
Steve will be with me. He'll be mine.
Danny stumbled forward, his hand out-stretched towards the door, driven by desperation. "Steve?" Hardly carrying at all, his voice was weakened by sleep and now terror as he made his way down the stairs to the main floor.
"Steve?" It was far too quiet and Danny was about to find a weapon, get a gun, call for ... help ... until he saw him. Outside on the lanai, Longboard in hand, by the grill. Danny choked back a noise of indescribable relief, tears welling in his eyes no matter how hard he tried to argue just how scared he was. He blindly walked forward, sliding the doors opened, only to wend his arms around Steve's middle, burying his face in the safety of Steve's back.
"Hey, how'd you sleep?" Steve said as Danny trapped him from behind, leaving only his hands free, greasy spatula held high, the last half of the burgers nearly cooked through.
Face buried in Steve's back, Danny breathed in deeply, his tears soaking into the damp fabric of Steve's shirt. Steve hadn't taken a shower yet from his swim and he smelled like salt, seawater, and sweat. He smelled like Steve ... and Danny couldn't get enough of it. He rubbed his forehead into the space between Steve's shoulder blades, loosening his hold just enough for Steve to turn within the circle of his arms.
"Sleep okay?" Steve asked, a smile in his tone. "Just in time to eat something."
Danny barely heard the words, he was lost in the scent that was Steve. In the feel of those big hands which were gently roaming the expanse of his back, cupping the back of his head before gently carding through his already mussed hair. Danny absorbed the soothing circles of warmth as Steve caressed his back again while pressing a few kisses to the side of his head.
"Headache gone?" The words meant nothing yet. Unable to speak, Danny nodded though and might have even mumbled something. With a ferocious intensity, he hugged Steve tightly to himself until he found the wherewithal to walk his fingers up under the t-shirt, rucking it up, forcing it over Steve's head. Throwing it aside. He wanted more.
"I love you," Danny rasped out, his voice still wrecked by sleep and fear. His fingers tickled over Steve's skin, trailing everywhere while he briefly rested his forehead against his bare chest.
"Danny?" Steve was confused now, his smile had wavered. Rather than answering, Danny kissed what he could reach and then nipped upwards at his chin, reaching higher for Steve's lips, tasting and kissing his way along the ridge of that strong jaw. His hands wandered over the planes of his chest, his shoulders. Gentle but persistent. He wanted to be close ... needed to be close ... to Steve ...as he licked that salty, sweat-sweetened ridge of Steve's collarbone.
"I l-love you," he whispered again, his voice breaking. He had no idea that he was crying until Steve cupped his face to stop him from continuing, his thumbs swiping tracks of wetness away across his cheeks.
"I love you too," Steve murmured softly. "What's wrong, Danno? What's happened?"
Danny didn't know that he'd been nearly keening Steve's name repeatedly until Steve softly shushed him and kissed him back fully, deeply. Understanding that something had happened and that Danny just needed for him to be there. He had no idea that he'd said anything even remotely intelligible until Steve kissed each of his tear-stained eyelids, then his nose, before he cupped his face again, tilting it upwards. His expression was attentive, his hands gentle, but his tone was serious. Cautious.
"Danny, what did you remember?" Steve was whispering now. "Who the hell is RJ? Is it ... him?"
Danny swallowed hard as he tried to nod while still bracketed by the warmth of Steve's hands, those thumbs still sweeping the moisture away from his eyes. "What else?" Steve pushed gently, his face now almost unreadable.
"H-he w-wants y-you... I think h'he's coming for y-you," Danny choked out.
~ to be continued ~