"His son? Do you think he's connected in any way to his dad's shadier practices?" Danny asked.

"Dunno, bruddah," Kono replied. "We're looking into it. I arrested him for possession, but he didn't have much stuff – just some pot."

"He'll be out already," Danny predicted.

"Yeah, I checked," Kono agreed. He looked at Danny's uncomfortable position. "You doin' okay, bruddah?"

"Surviving," Danny sighed. "If this doesn't work…" He didn't know what he would do if this position didn't take the last of the swelling away. He was fed up sitting like this to say the least.

"It'll work," Kono predicted confidently. "It looks better than yesterday."

"So I'm told," agreed the impatient patient. "I haven't noticed the difference yet."

"You will, bruddah," Kono soothed. "Tomorrow you'll be outta here and back to the long hours at the office."

"Very long hours," Danny agreed. "Do you know how long the day seems when you're doing the budget for the month? Or expenses accounts? Or…"

"Oh yeah," Kono sighed. "Been dere, done dat." He shook his head. "Not much fun for sure." He cheered up slightly. "Better than being in here, though," he reminded the younger man.

"You got that right, bruddah," Danny agreed, feeling more cheerful himself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The combination of boredom, the painkillers and lying with his feet in the air, half on his back, combined to make Danny incredibly sleepy most of the time. Steve had left him a folder with notes on where the case was at the moment in the hopes that Danny might have some other ideas for them to check out, but he found it impossible to keep his eyes open that afternoon. The window was open, letting in warm sunshine, the scent of plumerias and a sea breeze. It was the closest Danny was getting to the great outdoors for the moment and he had asked the nurses to move his bed a bit closer to the window so he could make the most of the fresh air. Now that he was alone in the room, that didn't create a problem and he revelled in the feeling of the air. Without being aware of it, Danny slid into sleep.

When he vaguely heard the door opening, he stirred slightly, but lacked the impetus to open his eyes. It was probably his dinner, but that was not an inviting prospect. Steve had promised to bring in some Chinese later on and his sleep-muddled mind insisted it was too soon for Steve to be visiting. He sighed and snuggled deeper into his pillows.

The next instant, pain rocketed through his body as his ankle was picked up and then dropped. The yell that broke unbidden from his throat got no further than his teeth as a hand clamped down over his mouth. "Keep quiet!" hissed a voice.

Blinking involuntary tears from his eyes, Danny squinted up at his attacker. There was no mistaking who it was, even though Danny had never met the young man before. It was Paul Merrick Junior.

He might be down, but he wasn't out. Danny dealt a quick rabbit punch to Paul's midriff. The youth twisted away, and the punch skidded along his side. Danny let out a yell, hoping the nursing staff would come, but he had no time to find and press the call button; Junior was on him again.

Fighting for your life while flat on your back was not something Danny had ever hoped to do. Now, unsure as to what Junior wanted, but sure it was not for the good of his health, he fought as best he could while hampered by his position and the hospital bed rails.

As they exchanged punches, Junior was railing at him. "It's your fault dad is going to prison!" he cried. "Yours! You shouldn't have got in his way! Nobody is better than him! You deserve everything you get!"

"Paul, stop it!" Danny gasped. "You're going to ruin your life!"

"Shut up, cop!" Junior shouted back. "You should have died when dad intended you to!" A punch slipped past Danny's guard and popped the detective on the ear. There was a burst of sharp pain and Danny yelped.

"You're going to ruin your life!" Danny repeated, barely able to think past the barrage of blows he was enduring. Trapped on the hospital bed, he knew he couldn't take much more of this beating. He managed, more by luck than judgement, to capture one of Junior's wrists in his hand, but he found to his consternation that it didn't help him very much. "Help me!" he yelled as loudly as he could and Junior punched him in the mouth again. Danny tasted blood.

With a sudden twist, Paul broke free of Danny's grip. Danny knew he would have to do something drastic to stop Paul, but he had no idea what. There was nothing close by to grab and hit him with and clearly fighting was not the answer. What was he going to do?

Then the room door opened and things went from bad to worse in a heartbeat. "What are you doing?" demanded an outraged feminine voice.

In a smooth move that Danny did not anticipate, Junior spun around, grabbed Danny in a chokehold and put a gun to his head. "Get out!" he ordered the nurse coldly. "Just get out!"

The nurse was probably not much older than Junior, Danny reflected as he fought to get air past the constriction around his throat. He was mindful of the gun at his head as the nurse paled and fled. Danny hoped she would get help, but suspected that by the time she did, he would already be dead. Now that the gun had come into play, he knew that Junior was in deadly earnest over his intentions. Danny was a dead man.

"Don't … do … this," he begged, not for himself, but for a distraught young man who was about to throw his life away for his worthless father. What good would it do Merrick, Mrs Merrick or the youth himself to kill Danny? Merrick had deliberately set out to ruin other people's lives and deserved everything that was coming to him. The son might yet get past the reputation of his father, but not if he did this. If he did this, he would spend the best years of his life in prison and what would he have when he got out? Nothing.

Just when Danny thought he would black out from lack of air, Junior let go of his neck. Danny slumped down, drawing great gasps of air in. He couldn't think of anything else for several minutes, but as his system's panicky requests for oxygen abated, he was able to calm his breathing and look around.

By the window, just a few feet away, Junior stood looking out. The gun was still in his hand, but tears were trickling silently down his face. "What are… you going… to do?" Danny asked. Talking was hard; his throat was very sore.

The gun came up, and Junior turned to face him once more. "Dad wants me to kill you," he reported dully. "You deserve to be dead. It's all your fault this went wrong. Dad could have ruled the island through Jameson until he was ready to run for Governor himself. Nobody would have stood against him. This would have been his kingdom."

"You learned his lessons … well," Danny commented. "But this island isn't … anyone's kingdom." He stopped to swallow gingerly. "Your dad was … in the wrong," he continued, hoping his voice would hold out. It was getting weaker with every word. "We had … to stop him." He paused as Junior lifted the gun again, but he knew he had to keep talking. Junior might have a conscience after all and Danny could not – would not – allow him to throw away his life if keeping talking might make him see sense. "How long would it have been … before your dad had everyone hooked… on drugs?" he asked. "How long before… being drug free… meant intimidation… beatings…wrongful imprisonment? How long before… your dad was a … dictator?" Danny desperately wanted a drink to lubricate his aching throat. "We have a … memorial here to … brave men and women… who died to… keep America … free. Have you… been to… the Arizona Memorial?"

"Yes," Junior whispered.

"They would have … died in vain … if we hadn't … stopped your father," Danny concluded huskily. "He shouldn't … have asked you … to do this. Your dad is … good at giving … orders, but not … so good at … doing things … himself."

There was no way to tell if Danny's heart-felt plea had reached the young man. Junior's face was unreadable. He stood there, gazing at Danny but obviously not seeing him. The gun was now pointing towards the floor. It was as far away as the moon in Danny's current condition. If his words had not changed Junior's mind, then nothing would.

Outside, Danny could hear sirens. It was comforting to know that help was on the way, but he didn't know if he would live that long. He blinked and saw that Junior was slowly bringing the gun up. Danny's heart contracted painfully. Death was, at best, seconds away.

"I'm sorry," Junior whispered and Danny realised what he intended to do.

"No!" he rasped and made a convulsive movement to pull himself over the bed rails.

The gun went off.