Small Comfort
Here's another one. It's way longer than usual as an apology for my slow updates. As some of you have realized - my Spanish is terrible. I cheated this time, don't shoot me. I also don't have a way to put in the correct accent marks, again, don't shoot me. Just let me be happy in my ignorance. All mistakes are mine and . . . you know there'll be a few.
Please review if you'd be so kind.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't make any money from them, life isn't fair but, I always suspected that.
Chapter 11
*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*5-0*5-0*
The air felt different when he wasn't alone. There were barely felt disturbances in the its flow. The small noise woke him. It was almost inaudible but he'd still retained the acute senses he'd been born with that were further honed by his military training.
Cujo, who'd been asleep on the pillow next to him also heard something. The kitten quickly uncurled and sat up with his ears at full attention and his pupils open wide, his yellow irises almost swallowed by them, and a small low growl escaped from the little creature.
McGarrett, fully awake in an instant, quietly pulled back the covers and swung his legs to the floor. He silently opened the drawer of the nightstand, took out his sig and deftly thumbed the safety off. He stood and crept toward the bedroom doorway; holding the gun in front of him with both hands, arms rigid and pointed downward. He silently made his way out onto the landing and, just as silently, down the stairs. It was nearly complete darkness. Only small shafts of moonlight shone through gaps in the curtains where they weren't fully closed.
He stopped at the the bottom of the stairway when, in the archway to the kitchen, he saw a figure outlined in the moonlight spilling through the french doors that opened onto the deck. His body was nearly trembling from the tension of unused muscles not quite yet up to the strain or the kick of adrenaline that coursed through him. One more step and he'd be close enough to confront the intruder.
Suddenly, a section of the plaster wall behind his head exploded as the flash of a gun muzzle burned itself into his retinas. The old lathe and plaster wall behind him showered his head and shoulders with bits of gritty plaster and splinters of wood.
He fired back at the flash and was satisfied to hear a grunt as his bullet found its mark. He rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen doorway.
Just then he heard a movement to his left and shrank back as he felt a burning across his left arm near the shoulder. There was more than one and this one had a knife. He could make out the flash of the metal in the reflected light and scrambled backward as his assailant took another swipe with what looked like a very big blade.
He countered with a roundhouse kick and felt it connect with the other man's face, a squeal of pain issuing from the shadowy attacker.
Suddenly he was tackled with the force of a tsunami that carried him into the kitchen and knocked all the breath out of his body. A fourth bad guy. Someone flicked on the switch and the kitchen was brightly lit. There was no need for creeping around in darkness now.
From the floor, he blinked up at Kurt Aguillera smiling down at him. A man was on either side of him, one of them had a bloodied nose and a swelling eye.
"Senor McGarrett, Mucho Gusto." said the blonde man.
"What do you want Aguillera?" Spit out the man on the floor when he'd gotten enough breath back into his lungs to actually speak.
"I want to watch you die, Stephan, that is your name, verda? I can't let someone live who managed to embarrass me in front of my men. It wouldn't look good. As a leader, the respect of your men es importante, you, no doubt, know that."
McGarrett only stared stonily back from the floor, his chest still heaving with the need for oxygen.
Aguillera motioned for the two men to pull their captive to his feet which they did quickly and roughly; supporting the swaying man between them.
"You cost me several men, another tonight, and several thousand dollars worth of guns. I don't like that." said the blonde man, his voice lowering dangerously.
"I'm not too worried about what a thug likes or dislikes." said McGarrett defiantly, the little 'Danny voice' in his head telling him to shut up and not make things any worse.
"You should be worried Stephan. This night will be your last. I didn't kill you in the jungle but, I will now . . . slowly and painfully." he added
"Hold his arms" he said in Spanish to the man with the swelling eye. The beefy man shifted his grip to tightly pin the captive's arms behind him. The third man looked on with glittering black eyes as he knew he was about to witness the slow death of the policia who'd caused them all the trouble and had killed a compadre tonight. The men with Aguillera weren't just hired hands like last time. These were veteranos who'd fought in the jungle with the junta. Some of them actually believed in the cause.
Smiling, Aguillera aimed a fist at McGarrett's midsection and it connected with the impact of a hammer. The SEAL let out a grunt of pain in spite of his desire not to. His vision dimmed as flashes of light shot through it. He thought detachedly, Those cartoons had gotten it right. One actually does see stars when hit hard enough.
He sagged against the man who held him as Aguillera wound up for another blow. Suddenly the air was rent with a horrific screech and something small with many sharp teeth latched onto the spectator's ankle. He let out a yell and looked downward in horror to see what had just sunk its fangs painfully into his flesh. He slashed at it with his knife and the kitten skittered away into the next room.
The distraction was just enough. The adrenaline rush served him well; his training served him even better. McGarrett gathered all that was left of his strength and bending forward had enough leverage to flip the man holding him over his head. Nose-bleed-man landed with a thud in front of him as his bulky body knocked Aguillera off balance on his way down. The third man, now that he'd managed to detach "el gato de satan" from his ankle, lunged forward with his blade but, before he could do anything with it, the SEAL grabbed him around the neck and there was a loud crunching sound as he dropped to the floor and the knife clattered away.
McGarrett saw the gun in nose-bleed-man's holster and lunged for it, managing to get it clear of the leather; turning as Aguillera dived at him. The momentum carried them backward and they fell onto nose-bleed-man in a tangle of arms and legs in a mad scramble for possession of the weapon. McGarrett lost his grip on it as the man at the bottom of the pile somehow managed to untangle himself enough to elbow him sharply in the ribs. The SEAL's hard won oxygen once again rushed from his lungs.
From the darkness of the next room there sounded an unearthly yowl as a small grey blur launched itself at Aguillera and landed on the back of the Colombian's neck to attach itself like a cheetah on a gazelle.
The blonde man screeched in pain and tried to pull the cat off with his left hand while grappling for the gun with his right.
McGarrett finally pushed Aguillera away and got a firm grip on the gun. The blonde man rolled away yelling in pain and anger getting to his feet as the little cat deftly moved to the front of his throat and held on like a pit bull. He staggered toward the knife that had landed near him and picking it up, brandished it over his head, intending to drive it into the body of his opponent.
McGarrett's first shot missed as his wobbly aim only put another bullet-hole in the kitchen wall behind the Colombian. His second shot was true.
Aguillera let out a whoosh of air as it hit him in the middle of his chest. He crumpled backward, a look of horror on his face, the cat still attached to his throat. He hit the floor with a thud and the life went out of his pale eyes.
"Don't move or you're dead!", said McGarrett in Spanish to the remaining bad guy who moaned on the floor, whether in pain, defeat or embarrassment the SEAL couldn't tell.
Cujo was still growling as he continued his hold on the now dead man's throat.
"It's done, Cat. You can let him go now." said McGarrett, as though ordering one of his men to stand down after a fire fight.
As if he'd understood, the cat released its grip and backed away from the inert man. He sat down a couple of feet away and began licking blood off his whiskers.
McGarrett smiled mirthlessly and nearly shuddered as he watched the grey kitten calmly and fastidiously tend to his bath. Maybe Danny was right after all. He does like blood.
Feeling too wobbly to stand, he crawled to the "junk drawer" next to the sink and took out a length of window blind cord he'd bought to make a repair before realizing that the window covering had to be replaced. It was one of many things with bullet holes in it from the General Pac stand-off.
Neighbors are going to be pissed again he thought as he began to wrap the moaning man's wrists with it. They'd been really freaked after the General Pac thing. He'd surely hear about this one as well.
He ran another loop around the man's ankles for good measure. He wasn't up to chasing anyone right now if he could help it.
Next job: call HPD. He knew he should call Danny too but, he didn't have the energy to listen to the little man's rant about trouble finding him again. He crawled to the land line attached to the kitchen wall near the french doors ignoring the two bodies laying on the linoleum tile. He thought there was another on the living room floor. Neither of the thugs nor Aguillera had a bullet hole in them . . . at least not when he'd first seen them.
...
He was in the middle of a wonderful dream. He and Rachel were taking turns pushing Gracie in a swing. They were in the park near where they used to live in NEW JERSEY! . . . and the trees above them filtered the light in a dappled pattern as Gracie's giggling little form rose and fell with the rhythm of the swing. He and Rachel were laughing instead of arguing . . . yeah, a really great dream.
He was jerked from it with a start. The cell on the night stand musically rang out the tone for HPD Dispatch, the one that was used on that old 'Dragnet' show from the fifties or was it the sixties?
Godammit, this better be the mother of all emergencies. He rolled over and felt for the offending object, trying to clear his mind in the moment before answering, "Williams".
It was Mona, his buddy from dispatch. They'd shared a flirtatious relationship since he'd first arrived at HPD. She thought the little detective really cute and he'd flirted back even though she was as tall as McGarrett and probably outweighed him by a few pounds . . . but those pounds were so deliciously distributed.
"Jersey Boy!" came her contralto voice.
"This better be because a volcano just erupted in the middle of Honolulu, Mona."
"Almost. We just got a call from your boss. Shots fired, his residence."
"Shit! Shit!" said Williams as he rolled off the sofa bed searching for the clothing he'd left in a pile on the floor.
"What else?" he said breathlessly trying to get his heartbeat to slow from the nearly hummingbird speed to which it had so quickly accelerated.
"Bus too."
"That idiot can't stay out of trouble for just one night?" He let loose a long string of epithets he'd normally not use within hearing range of the opposite sex but, hey, it was Mona. She'd probably heard worse. He knew she'd said worse . . . he'd always admired her creativity.
"Who needs the bus?" he asked tersely as he buckled his belt while trying to keep the phone in the crook of his neck.
"Don't know, Danny but, it sounded like McGarrett was the one called it in."
"Well, at least the Neanderthal is still alive." he said with an exhalation of relief.
"Thanks, Mona. I owe you one."
"Better believe I'm gonna collect, sweetie." said the dispatcher with a nearly girlish giggle.
"Something to look forward to." said the little detective as he hung up. He didn't know if he should be frightened or not. Mona was a lotta girl.
He arrived within fifteen minutes of receiving the call from HPD.
There were black and whites all over the place and the entire block seemed lit up with flashing blue and white lights. McGarrett's neighbors must be getting tired of this shit, thought the little detective as he walked up the steps and flashed his shield at a uniform he didn't recognize.
"Where's McGarrett?" he asked the kid in the uniform. Were rookies getting younger every year?
"Over there", the child waived toward what Danny knew to be the kitchen. He walked past the uniforms gathered around the body on the living room floor and stormed toward the brightly lit room at the back of the house.
"Hey! Knock it off dammit!" he heard the too familiar words; this time coming from a vaguely familiar voice. He also heard the familiar sound of growling. The kind that came from a fierce little grey cat.
He turned the corner to see one of the EMT's in a stand-off with a snarling Cujo. The cat was apparently guarding McGarrett. His partner was sprawled on the floor, his head and shoulders propped up against a cabinet. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be unconscious.
"McGarrett!" the little detective yelled while carefully keeping an eye on the world's first air-breathing piranha.
"Fuckin' cat" he heard the EMT, Raymond Watanabe, mutter next to him. They knew Raymond from several unfortunate incidents in the past that had required his expertise.
"Steven! Call off Cujo before we have to shoot him!" said Danny hoping that the threat would get through to the man clad only in sleep pants lying oblivious to the commotion around him.
At that, McGarrett opened his eyes and dazedly looked toward the two men. The little detective could see the blood that had run down his left arm from what looked like a serious cut and a large bruise forming on his cheekbone.
"Talk to your guard dog Steven, he won't let us near you. We don't want to hurt him." said his partner in a quieter voice.
McGarrett's eyes seemed to focus as he shifted to a slightly more upright position against the cabinet and spoke softly to the kitten. It took another moment before Cujo backed off and still growling, protector climbed into protectee's lap. McGarrett patted him carefully on the head and gingerly picked him up. Grimacing as he reached with his bleeding arm, he opened the cabinet door next to him and gently shoved the kitten inside, shifting to lean against it to make sure it stayed shut.
Danny and Raymond wasted no time now that the threat of being killed and eaten had passed. They rushed forward to kneel next to the still somewhat dazed looking McGarrett.
"Can't I leave you by yourself for a minute without bad guys coming out of the woodwork and shooting up the place? You are a walking catastrophe!" Danny ranted as he looked over his partner for any other obvious injuries.
Raymond busied himself by shining a light in McGarrett's eyes to check for any possible head injury. He'd been at Queen's dropping off patients several times and had heard the gossip about the head of Five-0 being in a coma. He was actually surprised to see him home.
"Hey D." greeted McGarrett with a tired, lopsided smile as he tried to push away the penlight.
"What the hell!" said the blonde man, his arms already flailing the air.
Raymond smiled to himself. OK, things were getting back to normal. He was satisfied that the man's pupils were equal and reactive and reached into the large box next to him for the betadine solution as his partner quickly and efficiently wrapped the patient's arm with the BP cuff.
"Wasn't my fault." said McGarrett, flinching as the EMT sloshed antiseptic on the deep gash on his arm.
"Yeah, right, Rambo." said Williams sourly even though his eyes held relief that his partner only appeared to be moderately injured.
"Aguillera." was all the head of Five-0 said and Danny's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.
"No shit!", said Danny, "Where is he?"
Over there said McGarrett, pointing with his chin toward the bloody heap on the other side of the kitchen.
In his worry and rush, Danny only had eyes for his partner and hadn't even glanced in that direction. Some detective I am!
"Good job, Rambo." said Danny as McGarrett tried to sit straighter and had to balance himself with his right hand on the floor tiles.
"Had help." he grunted with the effort as his partner's face swam in and out of his vision.
"Who?" said Danny looking toward the knot of uniforms gathered around Aguillera's body now that the coast was clear and the cat was locked in the cupboard. Apparently, Raymond wasn't the only one who thought it wise to not push the little wolverine.
"Cujo" smiled his partner proudly with his dopey, lopsided grin.
"What?" said Danny incredulously as the EMT next to him let out an exclamation.
"Damn! I believe it, brah." said the impressed medic as he applied gauze dressings to the still bleeding wound.
"Go look at Aguillera's neck." said McGarrett, his hazel eyes now focused and locked onto his partners, the grin gone.
The detective stood and walked over to the body, bending down to look at the neck of the blonde man cooling on the kitchen floor.
There were distinct bite marks on his throat and the back of his neck along with several bloody scratches.
Damn is right! thought the detective.
He turned to find his obstinate partner arguing with the two EMT's who were as determined to take him to the hospital as he was to not go there.
"I can stand up, just not right now." he heard the stubborn man arguing.
"Steven, let the nice men take you to the hospital. I assure you they won't keep you any longer than necessary. They've had enough of your whining at Queen's."
"Danny, I'm past due for my meds, they're in the medicine cabinet in the upstairs bathroom. Could you get them?"
"Sure." said the little blonde and left quickly to bound up the stairs.
"Look, you guys, I just spent nearly a month in the hospital and I'm not going back!"
"You can't even sit upright on your own." argued Raymond glancing toward his red-haired partner for support. The redhead nodded gravely.
"It's only because I haven't taken my meds, honest."
"You're going to need stitches on your arm." said the redhead who's name McGarrett couldn't recall at this moment.
Just then, there was scratching and a meow from the cabinet behind him.
"Besides" lamely argued the stubborn leader of Five-0. "If I leave, you'll have to deal with the cat." said McGarrett, knowing that both medics were not eager to take on the little menace again.
"You wouldn't." said Raymond apprehensively.
"If I get up off the floor, he'll be out in a flash and who knows what will happen." said McGarrett smugly.
"Steven, stop threatening the nice men with your pet wolverine. You know all we have to do is find a way to keep that cupboard closed and it won't be an issue. So knock it off."
"Here", said the blonde half of the partnership as he held out two capsules and a glass of water.
McGarrett downed them quickly before saying, "Honest, Ray, I'll be OK in a few minutes. Besides you know what it's like to have someone ralph in your bus. That's what's going to happen if I go with you right now."
His words were backed up by the greenish cast of his complexion and the sheen of sweat on his forehead.
Raymond Watanabe conceded defeat at that point. People vomiting in his ambulance was one of his pet peeves. Despite being able to handle missing limbs, rivers of blood and whatever other horrors he had to see and deal with on a daily basis, barfing was something he'd rather avoid. Everyone knew it, even Five-0.
The dark haired medic turned toward McGarrett's partner. "You'll bring him in to get stitched up?"
"On my word." said Danny and raised his hand as though swearing the Boy Scout's oath as he glared at his smirking partner.
"OK, but make sure he comes in ASAP. Infection is always a possibility and that's a pretty nasty gash." said the red-head who's name tag read 'D. Riley'.
"Come on Dave", said Watanabe, "Danny'll bring him in. We've been through this before" he said with a warning look in his dark eyes as he pointedly stared at the man with the now neatly bandaged arm.
They packed up their equipment and left the two men to glare at each other . . . business as usual.
There was another meow from behind him and McGarrett now felt steady enough to sit up and turned to open the cabinet he'd been leaning against. He gently took out the small kitten and set him on his lap. He frowned as he noticed the blood smeared on Cujo's right flank.
"Probably Aguillera's." said Danny, noting the concern on his partner's face.
"Get me a wash cloth, Danny." ordered his partner from the floor.
Williams sighed and once more went to play fetch for his dumbass, stubborn, disaster prone partner.
He brought the wash cloth back with some warm water on it and McGarrett quickly snatched it from him and began to wipe the kitten's bloody fur.
"He's cut!" he said in alarm. "We have to get him to the vet!"
"Oh sure, you could have a limb missing, but let the little buzz-saw get a scratch and you want to get him to the Mayo Clinic on a private jet."
McGarrett only extended his good arm while he cradled the cat in the bandaged one for his partner to help pull him off the floor. He wobbled slightly then caught his balance and rushed toward the front door, picking up his wallet from the coffee table next to the entry.
"Don't you need to get dressed first?" asked the detective with raised eyebrows.
"No time." snapped McGarrett as he strode out the doorway barefoot and wearing only his sleep pants.
"Well at least you don't sleep in the buff." he sighed as he followed his barely clad partner out the door and down the steps to the Camaro parked nearly half a block down the street.
"We'll be back to answer all the questions, guys." called Danny to Lieutenant Wong who he knew was in charge of the scene.
Wong only waved at him as he watched the tall man and the shorter man walk hurriedly toward the silver car. He could see a bandage on McGarrett's arm. They were probably going to get him patched up.
"It's still too early for the regular vet to be open." said McGarrett. "We'll have to go to the twenty-four hour clinic near HQ. Step on it Danny."
The kitten mewed weakly and looked up with sad yellow eyes at the dark-haired man who held him. McGarrett whispered comfortingly to the little creature to reassure him that everything was going to be fine. Danny heard him actually explaining to Cujo that they were only going to the doctor to get him looked at.
Williams didn't even bother to roll his eyes as he looked over at his insane partner and the now listless little bundle in his arms. He flipped on the lights and siren, hoping that he wouldn't get razzed if anyone heard about it.
Within ten minutes, they arrived at the clinic that was only a couple blocks away from the Palace. The little detective had passed it nearly every day but never thought he'd have need of it.
McGarrett took the too quiet kitten and bounded out of the car and up the short steps to the entrance of Honolulu Emergency Pet Care. Danny followed him up the steps and through the glass door. Thankfully they were the only ones there and McGarrett stood in front of the reception desk as a small blonde woman greeted him and began filling out the necessary forms.
"OK, honey" she said to Cujo as she took him gently from the shirtless and shoeless man in the lobby. "Let's get you looked at." She didn't even blink at the semi-naked man with the bloody bandage. She'd worked at the emergency clinic for quite a while and had seen people in various stages of undress as they'd rushed into the lobby desperately wanting to get medical attention for their animals.
"Be careful" warned Danny, "He's a handfull."
"Oh we know about those kinds of kitties." she smiled "Don't worry, we've had plenty of practice."
Cujo hadn't made a peep and didn't protest when the woman took him in her arms and carried him away.
McGarrett started to go after her but Danny stopped him by laying a hand on his arm and motioning to the waiting area.
This was eerily familiar except the waiting room was nicer than they were used to. It was new and clean and modern and the chairs were actually comfortable.
"You know, you really should have put a shirt on at least, you animal." said Danny toward the man tensely sitting at attention next to him, his eyes fastened on the door through which the cat and receptionist had disappeared. He tried to get McGarrett to lighten up but that wasn't happening. He could see how worried he was. Who knew McGarrett was a cat lady? he thought as his eyes roamed over his bandaged, tattooed, formerly macho partner.
"Babe", he said "Don't worry, the little wolverine's gonna be fine. He takes after you so that was just a scratch in McGarrett World. He'll probably be doing an iron-cat marathon by tomorrow."
McGarrett only smiled tightly and didn't say anything as he placed his hand over the bandaged arm and winced.
"Next stop is the ER, and I don't mean the kitty ER." said the blonde detective.
"OK" said his partner absently, obviously distracted with worry.
"You know, I've never had a pet before." he said softly.
"It's OK babe. I had a hamster once."
McGarrett only looked at him with confusion, obviously not equating a rodent with a cat. Mind you, a cat that could tear your throat out or chew your leg off without a second's thought.
Danny just patted his worried partner on his uninjured arm saying, "Your tat's a mess babe. Gonna need more ink to cover the scar"
McGarrett looked at the bloody bandage near his shoulder and tiredly sighed, "Shit!"
They sat in the waiting room for quite awhile. There were even a couple vending machines in a little alcove down the hallway. Williams got up and got them two cups of coffee. It tasted like just like hospital coffee. Yeah, this was a little too familiar.
Tomorrow, thought Danny, If the friggin' cat is OK that is, he thought he'd stop by the shop where he'd gotten the plaques for Gracie's soccer team. They'd only come in fifth place out out of a league of six but, to make them feel better, he'd gotten them small award of merit trophies with each of their names engraved on the little plaque at the base. No sense in Gracie getting used to utter defeat in the big, bad world yet. There'd be plenty of time for that later.
'Steven J. McGarrett, Cat Lady in Residence'. He could just see it now next to the expensive pen set on his partner's desk.
They waited.
TBC
Probably one more chapter to go.