I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: the facts around Devon's legal issues and incarceration are borrowed from a real case. I'm continually smacking the muse upside the head to tow the line, but it's far too late now! Thanks to Fifilla and CinderH (and really to all of you great readers) for constant reassurances that this is still working.
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"If you want to listen, don't talk.
If you want to talk, listen first." ― Norbert Harms
Chapter Twenty-one: No Kau a Kau ~ For Eternity
"What?" Devon blurted. His tone echoed the stunned disbelief on his face and the woman behind the counter backed up one full step. "What did you say? She's not here ... you own the shoppe now? That's impossible!"
He'd gone to his mother's florist shoppe, mildly cognizant of the slight changes in tone and atmosphere which made it brighter and even a bit more modern. But he'd not really centered in on the name change above the brick and mortar's main entrance. Familiar sights and scents assailed his senses the very second he'd walked across the threshold and he'd forgotten everything. With a smile on his lips, Devon had closed his eyes and paused to inhale deeply before turning towards where he remembered the counter.
Except the checkout counter and cash register weren't there and he stood frozen in place until a young voice sweetly called out to him inquiring if he needed help. Only then had he realized that something important might have changed.
"You're wrong," Devon bristled defensively. The tremble was back in his fingers and he shook his head adamantly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "What you're saying is impossible. Where's Iris?"
"No, it's not impossible. I bought the business because Iris isn't here anymore," the young woman hesitantly explained. She was a bit nervous as she gazed up at the large man facing her across the counter. But where he'd been intimidating at first glance, now his eyes were flush with confusion and a growing, genuine fear. With care, she couched her words slowly and the best way that she could manage. "When the owner - Iris - passed away, the husband eventually put the business up for sale and I bought it about a year ago."
"Died?" Devon whispered. He looked around the flower shoppe, horror and dread feeding his very soul as he finally saw the extent of all the changes. The long white counter wasn't the only thing that was so very different. Devon backed further away, his arms were now criss-crossed over his body, hugging himself tightly. Maybe he was in the wrong store front. After all, it had been years since he'd been back. Yet, he knew that the thought was completely ludicrous and he knew that he was vainly picking at paper straws as he whispered another frightening denial. "You have to be wrong about that. Who exactly did you do business with ... I need names."
The shoppe owner was quiet for a moment, worried about the man's fluctuating emotions before she even replied with the little bit of truth she knew. "Mrs. Iris Hayashi used to own this flower shoppe. There had been a car accident. I think a rain storm or something almost two years ago now ... but, afterwards ... after she passed away from her injuries, her husband put the shoppe up for sale. I don't think he had a choice."
Devon stood completely still. He was barely breathing as he just stared at the woman before him. The floor tilted dangerously under his feet as the air and sound were sucked completely out from the colorful room. The colors merged and the scents suddenly seemed raw and noxious in his nose. He couldn't see more than what appeared to be through a narrow tunnel and his hearing was completely gone. The woman's mouth was still moving and he stared at her lips, mesmerized by their movement. He heard nothing though for the deafening buzz in his ears which continually drowned every single sound out around him.
"Sir? Did you hear me?" Eventually, the woman's voice returned and Devon nodded once in his shock, backing away to nearly the door now as if he'd been stung by a swarm of bees. The woman was sympathetic, asking if he needed to sit down as sweat beaded his forehead. He knew that she was making assumptions of her own, but he didn't care. What was left of his world had crashed down on him in the most random of ways.
His mother had died while he was in prison and he hadn't known.
No one had ever told him.
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Sweat poured down Danny's back, soaked his shirt and then the protective overalls he was wearing yet still, he kept going. His face glistened and yet he couldn't pause to wipe it away because of the gear he wore. As Makoa had gleefully stated: being hot was simply part of the job. So, he ignored the constant itchy drips of moisture as his eyes followed the contour of the board with a sharp attempt at being accurate. The weight he applied to the sander had to be just right and consistent or he'd ruin the board before he'd even really begun.
"Hey!" Danny jolted in surprise when a hand came from over his shoulder. With five complete fingers attached and the skin not nearly as weathered or gnarled, it certainly wasn't Makoa. He only stopped when that hand covered both of his own to bring the sander to a complete stop. There was a sharp yank on the tool's yellow safety cord which disengaged the plug from its power source, effectively plunging the shop into a near-deafening silence.
"What are you doing?" Danny pulled away, bordering on actual anger for being disrupted.
"That's enough," Steve said through the rag he held over his mouth against the spray of dust. He was disgusted and even a bit stressed by the tremble in his friend's fingers. "Makoa's in the main house with Kono right now, and your damned lucky about that. Maybe. What the hell are you doing?"
"I was just finishing up one section of this board," Danny replied defensively, his voice muffled by his protective gear. He forced himself to stand upright, staggering a bit from a washed out feeling of fatigue. His back ached and he stretched carefully as he gestured for Steve to follow him out the rear door into the fresher air. There, he took off the respirator, face mask and stripped out of the lightweight coveralls almost shivering as the breeze off the water lifted his stained t-shirt.
"Whoa," Danny whooshed out, bending over to place both hands on his knees to regain his balance. "That wasn't very nice." As he shook his foot free from the material, a dizzying array of sparkling lights and a dull grayish cowl tinged the edges of his vision. He was barely straightening when Steve's hand hooked him firmly under the arm in case he decided to pitch forward. "It's okay, I'm fine."
"Daniel," Steve growled out angrily while carefully moving his friend backwards to sit in the closest bamboo-thatched chair. "What the hell are you doing? Your board is fixed ... i just saw it out front and it's better than new. Why are you still fooling around? We haven't seen or heard about Devon in days; consider this impromptu stake-out over."
"Yeah, it is and it looks fantastic," Danny stated with no lack of pride about his old board. With an intent to irk his partner, his response intentionally avoided the context of Steve's comments about Devon Hayashi.
"I started this one now," Danny said calmly. He had finished repairing his old board days ago under Makoa's tutelage and was ready to take it home with the help of whomever had decided to come and collect him during the afternoon. But this day was different because Danny knew that Steve and Kono had come out together with ulterior motives. The team had cobbled together an interesting tale about Devon, and Kono in particular, felt a strong need to bring Makoa up-to-speed whether the man wished to hear it, or not.
He leaned back in the chair to take advantage of the shade granted by the shallow overhead awning. Steve was right in that he'd done too much; regardless, he felt fairly good. More energized than experiencing a bone-weary type of exhaustion. Steve was also quite correct about an impromptu stakeout. Both things of which made Danny exquisitely happy and content because he wouldn't deny nor confirm them. Instead, he grinned when he heard Steve sigh in disgust.
"Stop worrying so much," Danny waved Steve's disapproval off as he swiped rivulets of sweat from his cheek. "I'm not going to get better unless I do more every day." No matter what he was doing too, the fatigue always rushed up on him without warning and he'd felt so much better of late. It was becoming difficult to know when he should stop doing something or conversely, when he might be able to continue. "But ... but it didn't take all that long to repair my old board and Makoa had this other one that he'd just started. Yesterday, the client backed out of the deal. So now, he's using it to teach me how to make one virtually from scratch."
"You've already booked your therapeutic hours," Steve complained. "A half day here and a few afternoon hours in the office was the agreed-to plan. Not more physical labor ... and definitely not a long-term stakeout!"
"It hardly took a full week to fix my board and that was going slow. I can't help it if it's fun," Danny grinned complacently. He was tired but up to the friendly argument as their banter escalated. "The office is boring. Home is boring. This - here - is fun. I'm not lifting anything or out of breath which is what Doctor Fratelli distinctly warned about. I just have to take my time, use a sander, and concentrate."
"It's hot. You're wearing a lot of protective gear and getting over-heated," Steve countered argumentatively as he made a point of staring at the sweat staining Danny's tshirt. "You're on your feet too long and concentrating too hard. And stop changing the damned subject! Don't you dare try to tell me that you've not contrived some sort of weird stakeout to catch Devon in the act of doing something; you can't protect Makoa forever and he's made that clear enough. Starting a new board from a slab is physical labor, Danny, and I'm not so sure you're ready for it yet."
"I'm fine and Fratelli agrees that it's time to get more of my stamina back," Danny insisted, one hand waving skillfully through the air though he had already closed his eyes comfortably. "Besides, this could all change again once Kono gets Makoa to listen to what she has to say."
He was grinning happily and keeping his eyes closed so he'd not see Steve's disapproving expression. He hadn't once denied the stakeout verbally either. Another point which likely irked Steve to no end. So, if he gave him the satisfaction and opened his eyes, Danny would be quite correct about Steve's expression since his jaw had indeed hardened and he was already shaking his head to the negative.
"Stamina is one thing, but Doctor Fratelli is clueless about a stakeout!" Steve argued more loudly. "He would be furious if he knew what you were really up to. You can barely stand up right now, Daniel!" Seconds later, he was throwing his hands up in the air as Danny blithely changed the subject for the second time.
"He made her board, you know," Danny noted calmly, one eye peeking fiendishly open to look upwards to gauge Steve's response. "After she blew out her knee; Makoa made Kono a perfectly balanced board. All because he felt that she might want to try again."
"No, okay. Fine, I didn't know that," Steve replied, his tone fraught with a feeling of absolute disgust as he finally acquiesced to Danny's methods. He put his back against the wall before sliding down to sit next to Danny's chair. "No, I didn't know that at all."
"So, Kono's with Makoa right now?" Danny asked, defaulting immediately to what he really wanted to focus on and he grinned at the incredulous sound now radiating up from where Steve sat on the ground. "Makoa has to know that there's something fishy about his son's sentencing and the decision to impose lesser charges."
"Yeah, she's with him and hoping he listens to what she has to say," Steve confirmed. "The defense attorney agreed that the case was a difficult one. Reluctant witnesses and uncooperative victims; the number of different versions about what happened is incredible. Evidence against Devon was questionable at best. Makes no sense to me as to why Devon pled guilty to aggravated assault and drug trafficking."
"Makoa won't speak about any of it," Danny sighed resentfully. "I've tried and Kono keeps trying, but he slammed the door in her face more than once. As soon as I bring his son up, he literally walks away. He won't discuss it and we can't find Devon to talk to him to get his side of things. Maybe he'll listen to her today. In fact, I'm surprised he hasn't thrown her out of the house already. "
Danny sighed heavily as he rocked his head back into the side of the building. Neither he nor Kono had been able to let Devon's past history go. Certain things seemed off and the more they dug deeper, the more questions they had. They were anxious to question Makoa, as well as find Devon to do precisely the same thing. Danny was sure that Devon had either been setup or had taken the fall for someone else, but the why to either of those questions remained elusive.
"I don't know," Danny murmured to himself about nothing and yet everything, his brain was working over time again but his eyes were only partly open as he peacefully rested in the shade. He didn't have too much more to say as he thought about Kono and if her conversation with Makoa was once more going to be in vain.
Steve leaned heavily back into the shed wall, also falling silent as he sat on the ground next to Danny's chair. As the ocean breeze picked up, he could see an occasional shimmer of sparkling azure. It was a near perfect day to be on the water. He was about to comment on that fact until he glanced upwards. Slouched down and cocked slightly to the left, Danny had stopped moving and his eyes were no longer even slightly open.
Steve smiled as he jutted his legs straight out to cross his ankles and closed his own eyes in enjoyment. It was indeed a peaceful day and they had a fairly open agenda. He'd allow Kono another fifteen or twenty minutes alone with Makoa before chasing her down. A few minutes later though, his mental plans had been forgotten as he, too, gently nodded off.
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"Hey," Danny poked Steve hard in the shoulder. They both had fallen asleep side by side, and Danny had to roll his eyes when he checked the time. "Hey, Steve! Wake up."
The startled grunt was comical and Danny had to laugh as Steve's entire body lurched in reaction. Bleary-eyed, he stared at Danny trying to remember where they were until his partner tapped his watch with a wry grin.
"Forty minutes," Danny chuckled at their combined laziness. "I might have an excuse, but you sure don't."
"Hmmm," Steve blinked while humming an odd sound deep in his chest. He was disbelieving as he rubbed his eyes fiercely against the burn of having taken a hard nap. "Fell asleep."
Danny grinned more widely, laughing openly as the two got to their feet. "Kono must be still with Makoa. I'll go check ... I need to use the facilities anyway," Danny said. He was pleased that he felt better after the short nap. It meant his recovery time was improving and he vigorously waved his arms across his body while he walked up the path to increase his blood flow and get his system moving again.
As with everything Makoa Hayashi maintained, the main house was modest but exceedingly neat and orderly. It stood separate and unattached from the workshop with a long, narrow set of wooden stairs leading up to a deck and a sunny front door. To reach the house from the workshop, Danny would need to follow a shady and well-worn path which ran the full length of Makoa's property. Before reaching the end and the driveway where his car was parked, he would need to make a sharp right to ascend that staircase.
Danny went that way now, sensing Steve ambling a few steps behind as he checked his phone for messages. The path was shady and soothing, and Danny turned right without really thinking to take the stairs upwards. As he began his climb, the expected low hum of conversation reached his ears. Head down and holding the wooden deck rail with one hand, Danny was relaxed and not really paying attention as he reached the top of the landing. Not once did he sense danger. Not once did he expect what happened next despite the startled shout from Steve who was now far below him.
Danny never saw the dusky shadow nor the desperately angry face behind the fist that connected with the right side of his jaw. One moment he was about to reach for the front door and in the next, there was an explosion of white light. His garbled gasp barely made it past his lips as he dropped sharply to his knees.
"Ste ..." His voice croaked in alarm but he never finished saying Steve's name. Blood filled his mouth and tainted his tongue at the same time the shock of the attack hit him. The pain from his bitten lip and bruised tongue set in quickly and before his jaw or even his head could comprehend they too would soon object the maltreatment. His left hand flailed for the banister but it was gone from his grip and instead he fisted the wood of the step he was now vaguely eye level with. There was a second shout from below and another from inside the house, but he had no time to react. Any breath left was pummeled as something bluntly caught him square in the middle of the chest to propel him violently backwards - precisely the way he'd just come.
Danny caught the glimpse of a dark face, snarled with a deep fury, then the blue of the sky right before he pitched over backwards in a stunned semi-conscious state. He hit something hard but simultaneously soft before his tumble could truly become fateful. Then, he was being physically dragged down the remainder of the staircase, his heels sloppily thumping along step by step until they hit pavement.
He moaned against the ongoing abuse as Steve hoisted him higher under the arms, his head now sagging forward chin to chest. He needed to be moved to safety, yet Steve's methods compressed the thickness in his sternum where Devon had forcibly kicked him. He lost time then, only aware of a hectic activity, briefly fading to only feebly rouse as he was laid flat back out in the workshop and Steve's solid presence abandoned him.
Danny lost even more as his senses refused to cooperate and his heels scrabbled haphazardly on the floor in a sad attempt to gain purchase. A leaden weight had settled across his chest and he was slow to regain oxygen into his lungs; slower yet, to even open his eyes.
"Whu ...? Ste ... ve?" He coughed, trying to twist to his side in order to get up. But he only wound up weakly stranded on his back again, heels straining to dig into concrete and knees partly raised. His jaw and head had now exploded in a tympani of pain. Barely able to think, he shakily used the back of his right hand to swipe the smears of blood away from his mouth. That ungainly move was the last thing he could muster the energy for for a good many minutes afterwards. Dazed by what had occurred, his eyes closed and his blood stained hand folded limply over on itself across his chest.
What finally got Danny reacting with a stronger sense of awareness was the roar of Steve's big Silverado which reached him from where he lay on his back. The deep tone hurt his ears and for one disquieting moment as the rumble intensified to drill into the base of his skull, he thought the big truck might literally roll over the top of him. With an effort, Danny clawed himself onto his left side and then to his stomach, pillowing his forehead on his arm. He inhaled raw chemical smells through his nose and alternately, puffed away tiny particles of styrofoam, wood and clods of dust from his open mouth as he rasped out each breath of air.
Devon had hit him hard. The sharp kick to his chest had nearly finished him.
Mercifully though, Hayashi's son had gone for the outline of his jaw and not the fragile side of his head. Then Steve had provided a divine miracle of sorts by catching him virtually midair before he could have sustained a real life threatening injury. Still though, Danny was hurting and duly rattled by the surprise attack and terrifying close call.
With a start, Danny realized he didn't hear the truck anymore and cursed himself for yet another brief zoning out of time and place. He knew that Steve had left him to take a chance on moving the big truck closer, as well as to demand reinforcements. The truck would offer another line of protection until adequate help arrived; it also held a number of Steve-centric 'toys' they'd undoubtedly need for their hostile hostage situation.
"God. Damn. It. Kono's in there," Danny chuffed painfully as he remembered first Kono and then Makoa. He couldn't lay there all day, but he was being much too slow in getting himself back together. Groaning under his breath, Danny kept his head down on his arm while he squirreled his knees up higher under him. Once there, he took a moment to rock in place before pushing determinedly off the ground to stand. With his eyes momentarily squeezed shut against a fierce tide of vertigo, he clamped his achy jaw shut as he forced himself to find some sort of center because he didn't intend to return to the concrete.
"Oh, man," he ground out as he forced himself vertical, one hand going out instantly for the sturdy safety of the long work table reaching it just before he could pitch forward back to earth. Using the back of his free hand, Danny wiped the blood away from his lips for a second time before spitting more out of his mouth. Devon had caught him just right and the inside of his cheek felt as if it had been lacerated by gravel.
His urgency was steady despite his hazy vision as he aimed himself towards the duffle bag he'd brought along with him that morning because he'd also come prepared. As he came more back to himself, he used one hand to tug the zipper open. His weapon was there, wrapped in two clean tshirts with an extra clip stowed under another pair of shorts. One final tug had it out of its holster and the safety thumbed off.
Tightlipped for the muzzy-headed pain he was still experiencing, Danny stumbled to the front door of the workshop to prop himself just inside the lintel to gain a line of sight to the rear of the main house. He rested there, breathing hard as he argued the constricted bruised feeling tightening his chest and forcing his knees to lock; simply concentrating on staying upright while he tried to see Steve or movement through any windows in the house.
"Damn it. What are you doing?" Danny jolted in surprise, needing to use more of the wall as a brace when Steve's voice hissed angrily in his ear. "You can hardly stand up and five minutes ago, you were out for the count! You didn't even know that I was behind you just now."
Based on his tone of voice, Steve was in a highly controlled state of distress as he rounded on his badly shaken partner. He'd caught Danny in a frightening acrobatic move, jarring his own back and upper body when Devon Hayshi's booted foot had planted itself firmly against Danny's chest in order to kick him violently backwards down the long wooden staircase.
"Are you hurt? How do you feel?" Steve cursed again at the near perfect outline of a dusty footprint implanted on his partner's dirty shirt. Pale and with blood staining his lips, Danny's eyes said that he had been duly knocked into next week. While he was on his feet, Steve was frantic about any injury to his head until he spied the gun.
"Where did that come from?" Steve pressed his lips together in a line of anger as he failed to twist the weapon from his partner's grip.
"My bag," Danny said, his words slightly slurred for the damage done to his mouth. The next thing he managed to state seemed like the most obvious thing in the world even with his head feeling as if it might be stuffed with padded wool. "Need a gun on a stakeout, Steven."
"Seriously? I'll remember that one, Danno, and I'll be thrilled to inform Doctor Fratelli of this during your next checkup," Steve hissed, his voice oozing the annoyance he felt inside. "I'm glad you think you're prepared, but you're sitting this one out, buddy."
"No. I'm ... good," Danny said wholly unconvincingly as Steve wrapped a hand around his bicep to keep him steady. "Tell me first. What exactly ... happened? I mean ... I do know. But I don't."
"God, Danno. You're messed up," Steve whispered worriedly as he bent over at the waist to get a better look at Danny's glazed expression. He didn't like what he saw when Danny's eyes refused to track his finger in a reliable manner. "Devon was at the top of the staircase and pretty much laid you flat. I only had time to get you out of there. But long story short, he's barricaded himself in the house with both Kono and Makoa. I'm guessing he's armed ... I've already called Chin and HPD for backup. A negotiator's on the way. I'm just not sure how bad he's going to escalate this."
"Can't wait that long," Danny argued. He grimaced when tried to disengage his arm from the firm hold as Steve attempted to maneuver him out of where he'd propped himself up against the doorway. "Let go."
"Bad idea, Danno," Steve replied, easily hanging on to his friend's arm. His worry only increased when Danny tried to pull away and almost lost his balance in the process."You need to sit down; you really do."
"Why?" Danny asked as he blinked a few times. "Don't have time to wait." His eyes continued to be stubborn about focusing on Steve's face and he felt woozy. But except for the slurred speech which was mostly caused by his increasingly swollen lip and tongue, at least his voice was cooperating. "We're the best bet for a one on one negotiation, not some trained negotiator that hasn't known Makoa or done any research on his son."
"It's a bad idea," Steve repeated, negating his partner's plans though he was absolutely right. What he meant was that Danny's participation was a bad idea because he didn't want to risk another member of his team. One that was still on leave and now more than slightly battered from an unexpected attack. With the unknown state of Kono as a hostage, he didn't want to chance the futures of two valuable members from his team. "Danny, you're not ready for this. You got rattled pretty good."
"Not waiting this time," Danny shook his head, insisting they come up with a faster plan of action. His jaw burned with a ferocious heat and a heaviness to his head made him wince, but they had no choice. "We're too far out here; anything can happen in an hour with a hostage situation. The longer this takes, the worse the outcome will be. You know that."
Knowing he was overruled by a number of very sound reasons, Steve groaned out loud as he was caught in a logical crossfire. They were armed and resources were on the way. They also had a deep level of intelligence on Makoa's son. Despite all of that, Steve shook his head while he examined his partner's rumpled body.
"Danny." Steve released Danny's arm long enough to rub both of his hands over his sweat-streaked face. His voice was muffled for that moment and his face drawn as he finally agreed. Danny was absolutely correct about the delicate dance of a negotiation and it would take reinforcements potentially too much time to reach them. Still, they were coming and that bought them a decent buffer. However, Danny was injured and another of their own plus a civilian were technically unknowns in a volatile situation. Whatever plan they concocted needed to be wisely initiated to achieve the best possible solution.
"Okay," Steve muttered. His voice continually communicated his displeasure about the entire predicament they were in. "But we handle this with kid gloves and take zero chances. You stay right here ... you don't go anywhere near that house."
"Kid gloves and zero chances? That's priceless coming from you," Danny interrupted, managing a lopsided smirk until Steve pushed a demonstrative finger in his face.
"I have one word for you," Steve glared back before pointing to Dannys gun. "Stakeout."
~ to be continued ~