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

Notes: Word of the Day was from a few days ago, but it stuck with me and deserved a story of its own. It took a while for the muse to be engaged by a word of the day, too. I hope you all enjoy this one. Happy spring even if it is snowing here in NY!

H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O

Word of the Day: Kismet - fate

The small plane had gone down in the Kalalau Valley on Kauai, miles from where they'd been scheduled to land. But the storm had come out of nowhere, pushing them far off course and battering the small plane like the proverbial tin can it was. In a perfect scenario, if ever one existed when it came to this kind of thing, they should have stayed with the wreckage and awaited rescue. He should have tried to get the pilot and co-pilot out. He should have at least checked Agent Carmichael's pulse even if the awkward bend of the man's neck was enough proof. But he did none of those things. Danny'd been forced to make a decision by the frightening reality of an explosion as the dire scent of an electrical fire wafted through the damaged cabin. Grunting in pain and ignoring a sickly body-wide ache, he'd dragged himself out only vaguely aware enough to keep his fingers wrapped around Hank Stanton's orange jumpsuit.

"G'out,' he'd demanded of the felon as acrid smoke made him start to gag. "Fire. Hurry ...g'na blow."

Stanton had followed on his knees, best as he could with his hands still cuffed and shackled to the belt wrapped around his waist, until they'd just about cleared the worst of the wreckage. Then, they had been up and leaning on each other in an ungainly shuffled-stumble as the fire had broken out in earnest.

Hank was gone now though. Babbling in hysterics after the plane had indeed exploded in a crescendo of yellowed-orangey flames despite the unrelenting rain falling from the sky, at first Danny hadn't understood the man's words. Evidently though, if Danny loathed small spaces, Stanton had been afraid to fly. The crash had been his worst nightmare come true and the explosion which had thrown bits of metallic debris at them had only exacerbated his personal beliefs that the sky was falling.

The devil had been there ... beckoning. Kismet. Fate. Cursed. He'd been cursed to hell for all his misdeeds. Still cuffed, he'd broken away and lurched sideways, tripping over his manacled feet, towards a treacherous rocky drop.

The beach had been far, far below a rocky, craggy out-cropping. Danny remembered the hectic rush of blue, white, brown and even green as it all blurred together right before impact. Hundreds of feet below, the ocean crashed against volcanic cliff-walls. The drop would be deadly and Danny remembered wanting to do more to prevent Hank from the unthinkable in his panic. But he'd failed.

"Stop. Hank ... stop." Even if he'd lacked conviction, Danny thought he'd at least said those words as he'd registered the distant sounds of crashing waves.

But Hank had taken one step backwards and then, simply disappeared. The felon had been there and then suddenly he'd blinked from sight as if he'd never even existed. Danny had stood in silence, the remnants of the plane burning brightly off to his right, shell-shocked and confused until he'd simply turned away, unfeeling, unempathetic and not knowing that he too was in a state of shock.

"Steve?" Danny whispered without knowing why as he walked along in the cooler white mist which the rain had left behind. "Steve?"

It was dark now and he'd lost track of time and place. The mist was disturbing and clung to him like a veil. He shivered and felt an eerie, other-worldly chill as wispy fingers caressed his wet skin. Nonetheless, he pushed himself forward partially lost in thought and yet, moving with a calculated intensity. It was pitch, well past midnight, and he could barely see his hand in front of his own face. What he was doing was dangerous, walking at night like this on narrow, slick trails. It didn't matter though; he needed to keep moving. Steve would want him to.

"That's my boy," Steve's voice suddenly whispered in his ear, egging him on and providing the affirmation he needed. "Keep moving. But be careful ... take your time."

"And you'll come for me," Danny rasped brokenly as he held this one-sided conversation with himself. "You'll find me."

"I'm almost there now, Danno," Steve promised. "Hang on ... find water ... find the stream and follow it down."

"Down. Yeah," Danny agreed. "To the beach ... you always said that."

Steve sighed in appreciation inside his head and Danny kept going, calling upon the various things Steve had prattled on about during the many times they'd gone hiking. Even battered and in shock, Danny was impressed with himself for remembering the wise words even if it was an inner-Steve providing him with a non-stop commentary of instruction.

His shivering increased as he slid along moss-covered rocks and thick, muddy debris. He slipped badly at one point, the thin leather soles of his shoes no match for the rough terrain. He fell heavily onto his hands and knees where he stayed for a while, rocking back and forth, head bowed and panting. There was a pain in his side and a deeper ache in his gut. His throat was parched and he gave out with a ragged cough, groaning as his stomach seized.

He didn't know if he should drink, but he wanted to; desperately. "Steve ... thirsty," he whispered. "W-what do I do? Huh? W-what?"

"It just rained, buddy," Steve whispered with a sly laugh in his tone. "You've got all the water you need. Open your eyes ... think."

The imaginary eye-roll he heard in that voice made Danny snort noisily through his nose as he fought hard not to laugh at himself. He couldn't afford to laugh just yet. He was afraid to wake up that knife-like pain in his chest which was bad enough as he stayed where he was on his hands and knees.

"Get up," Steve urged him softly. "You've got this."

"Course I do," Danny said. He struggled back to his feet and took a tentative step forward slipping again and nearly falling for a second time until he found an iffy purchase against the heavy trunk of a tree. He closed his eyes, the dry whine in his throat a counterpoint to the cold wetness of his dress shirt. For a minute, Danny thought about sucking the moisture from the material. Maybe that's what his inner-Steve was trying to tell him. But then he brushed against a wall of thick, water-soaked leaves and water seemed to stream from them in a thin cascade to wrap around his wrist.

"See?" Steve whispered triumphantly as Danny fell back down to his knees. "You can drink that ... it's safe. Fresh rainwater that's all."

"Okay," Danny said trustingly. Hands shaking and being as careful as possible, Danny cupped the broad leaves together to make a funnel and leaned forward. He coughed and choked as that thin river of water ran into his mouth tasting earthy enough to make him wonder just how many tiny bugs he'd just ingested. Nevertheless, he worked his way through the outer layering of leaves after that, not really having his fill but at least finding enough moisture to quench the worst of his thirst.

"Steve," Danny muttered as he willed his legs to move. There's been no sign of a stream and he was walking blind. Suppose he was wrong? Suppose he couldn't find his way down?

"I'm coming," Steve whispered. "I can't see you while you're so deep in the jungle ... find the stream, Danno. Find it ... find it and go down ... I need you on the beach where I can see you. Where you can signal me so that I can find you, buddy."

Danny nodded in the dark as he continued to pick his way down badly eroded trails which could be nothing more than swales made by miniature mud-slides. The going was difficult and Danny was slowly losing his wherewithal to continue despite the goading tone his partner had adopted inside his head. The realities of his injuries were winning out to his inner-Steve and Danny nearly sobbed in frustration when he fell again, this time harder than before. He slid a good distance on his side, coming up short against a rock and rapping his head hard.

"I can't ... I can't do this," he complained when Steve's voice deserted him completely, leaving him alone except for the deafening sound of the coqui. He hurt badly and was growing more and more sickish from the pain and exhaustion. This last tumble had left him breathless and desolate and Danny lay where he was on his side. He closed his eyes as his muscles seized and trembled all at once, giving in to an occasional pained moan. He was done in and out of his element. Except he heard it then as his loud juddering of his breathing eased up. Just on the fringes of his awareness, Danny heard the brighter undertone of a steadier, white noise.

Water. A stream? Maybe even a short-lived waterfall brought on by the rainy deluge. Did it matter if it led down to the beach? Danny weakly forced himself up, leaving the milky fog behind as he descended in an awkward rush of flailing legs and arms, stopping an all out tumble by mere inches only by grabbing onto saplings, green twigs and branches. But then, there it was. The narrow falls were no more than three or four feet wide in places and not deep at all but it was very real and heading downwards at a startling pace.

"Be careful," Steve's voice warned him. "Rocks are slick ... but this will bottom out on the beach." Danny chuckled ruefully at the unexpected return as he wedged his elbow into his side where he was beginning to hurt the most.

"So now you're back?" Danny asked ruefully. "Helluva time ... " He stopped talking when the tonal thump settled in the base of his ears. Rhythmic and yet distant, the sound was unmistakable. It seemed to dwell closer and then focus solely down by the rocky beach and Danny felt a pang of anticipation push some of his fatigue to the side.

Helicopter. Steve had arrived ... he'd really shown up as he'd promised and Danny was in a panic as he aimed himself faster down the slick slope. He slid hard, barking his shins and straining the deep pain in his side until he felt a warmth seeping unnaturally into the material of his shirt.

"Steve ... I'll ... I...," Danny stammered over his own tongue. Wait for him. He wanted to say that as stress made his head throb and he realized that the sun was starting to come up on the horizon. Just how long had he been battling the jungle? Had he really been on the move the entire night?

He shifted his legs, trying to gain his footing, bewildered when nothing much happened beyond a trembling twitch or two. His muscles were taxed to their limits and he groaned his distress, his hands shaking as tried to pull himself up by using what seemed to be a convenient vine.

"No stop! I need you to hide," Steve suddenly barked in his head. "It's not me ... they're looking for survivors. They came in off the beach and they want Stanton. So, hide. Now!"

Brought up short, Danny sat down again and then slid on his butt another four or five feet. He could hear the chopper and also the waves hitting the shoreline. Both were so, so close.

"Hide?" He asked, feeling numb. Steve couldn't be serious. "But .."

"Trust me, Danno," Steve whispered. "Get out of there!"

For a long moment, Danny blinked dumbly, doubting that inner voice. Where was he supposed to go anyway? But then he was moving, squirreling away from the stream on his belly into deeper undergrowth until he found a small rocky overhang. Somewhat hidden by a large fern, he looked under the slab of rock and into the narrow black maw. He couldn't fit in there ... Steve couldn't possibly expect him to fit in there?

Danny shivered in disgust and maybe even fear. Suppose it was weakened from the rain and he was buried alive? Or crushed ... or ... he couldn't fit in there if he tried ... and snakes or ... spiders. Hawaii had some nasty bugs ... big ones ...

"Danny! Get the hell in there!" Steve's voice hissed at him in anger as he hesitated a millisecond before he heard the voices. Danny jolted in fear as he gave pause to listen, wanting to be sure. Shouting back and forth in Spanish, there were two or three in the small entourage.

Danny did what he was told then, clawing at the sodden earth with his hands to pull himself into the hole where he lay flat on his stomach only slightly appeased when he could worm around to face outwards. The fern covered much of his view. But even with facing the outside, the rock pressed dangerously into his back and he had to pull his legs painfully up to nearly touch his chest. The space was smaller than that of the trunk of his car and Danny began to hyperventilate.

"You're fine," Steve whispered inside his head. "Breathe ... in and out ... slowly. Quietly, buddy. They're almost on top of you. Please ... please just relax."

Danny stilled as the voices came closer and he could make out individual words, his internal sense of panic warring with a more tangible danger.

"Steady," Steve whispered softly as Danny spied the outline of a man's head through the soft feathered leaves of the fern. Danny didn't dare move as the men seemed to circle his hiding place. They were much too close and he was sure that they'd be able to hear how his heart was thudding or the way he was fighting to barely breathe. He was positive until one gave the command to move on, the other two following at a careful pace for the slick surface.

Danny closed his eyes when the voices dimmed to nothing and eventually out of hearing range. He rocked his forehead on his arm and sighed into the damp earth. Wracked with fatigue, he began to drift despite inner-Steve's anxious proddings which eventually became more vehement.

"GET UP!" Steve shouted in his ear. "Danno ... get moving ... signal me in! I need to know where you are ... I can't take the chance!"

Danny didn't know what Steve was talking about when it came to chances. He'd taken so many himself since crashing, he wanted to laugh at the oddity of the demands.

"Daniel!" Steve snapped inside his head and Danny forced himself to find reserves he thought long gone. The effort to move was Herculean at best but he did extricate himself the same way he'd gone into the small cave - on his belly. He made the beach without knowing how he did it only to look up into the pre dawn sky to see not one but two helicopters bearing down on the crash site high above where he was now standing.

He marveled at how far he'd come through the night as he watched the two machines approach. The one in the lead would be Steve's. Danny knew that without a doubt as it barreled ahead, the sun gleaming off a dark blue shell.

He foolishly raised a hand to signal Steve in - to let him know where he was on the beach when a third suddenly appeared and Danny's mouth gaped wide. The Columbians were coming in to attack from the top of the mountain - from the crash site itself and rising with a hated vengeance.

Helpless but to watch, Danny stood on the beach as the most unlikeliest of fire-fights began. He flinched at the delayed report of gunfire whose rat-a-tat reached him many seconds after its reality. His eyes were glued to that lead chopper as it dipped or banked at incredible angles. He watched until the dog fight became a chase when a plume of smoke appeared as a smudge against the sunrise.

Danny blinked as the sun rose more, blinding him and obscuring his vision. He blinked again, his eyes tearing up from the strain, searching now to find what he thought was Steve's chopper. But they'd disappeared as quickly as they'd come and Danny gasped out loud. He wobbled dangerously, searching the skies and listening hard before falling weakly to his knees. He bowed his head, letting his chin sink to his chest not knowing what to do until a tonal thwump-thwump-thwump settled in the base of his ears. At least one bird was coming back.

He had nothing left but chance as he pulled his badge out from his pocket and flipped the small leather case open. He was supposed to signal Steve in and this was all he had to do it with. Staring at his badge and taking a moment to trace its outline with a dirt-encrusted finger, Danny thought about Hank Stanton and the felon's crazed shouts before jumping away from him.

Kismet. Fate.

He glanced again towards the chopper which was slowly circling up high and beginning what looked like a search pattern. Was this mere chance like his negative mind was wont to blame, or was it really fate?

Hands shaking and still on his knees, Danny held his badge up towards the sun and angled it until it caught the rays. Gold to gold, the reflection was brighter than he thought possible and Danny canted his badge even more, taking satisfaction as the warm gleam made him squint.

Eyes tearing, Danny smiled as the chopper seemed to hesitate in its methodical search. It turned his way and then paused entirely, hovering, checking him out. Wanting to be sure before diving his way like a bird of prey. Danny never flinched though. Not even when it circled him twice, far too fast for him to be sure Steve was piloting the thing.

But Danny knew ... he knew before Steve had found a decent place to land on the rocky shoreline. Danny knew as he watched Steve jump out of the idling bird and begin an errant, wild run towards him, shouting his name at the top of his lungs.

~ End. ~