It's so windy here. So windy. Brown skies.

Shout out to Phoebe Miller for beta reading!


Fact #49: Dragon alphabet soup is best enjoyed in the company of friends.

Season: 1-3

Part II

N is for Niche

"I think you've found your niche."

Steve looked up from his concoction with furrowed brows. "My what?"

"Your niche. Your place in society. You see, you're not really a Super SEAL or a taskforce leader."

Steve rolled his eyes and focused back on what he was mixing.

"You're a baker."

Steve needed to pay attention to what he was doing with the volatile ingredients, but he couldn't help but look up at Danny again. "A baker?"

Danny nodded. "Yes, you, Steven J. McGarrett, the monster that many criminals fear may be lurking under their bed at night, are a baker. While this isn't a fine dining location–" he swept his hands out at the nearly abandoned warehouse "–it suits this whole baker of death thing you've got going on."

"Danny, do you talk just because you like the sound of your own voice?" Steve huffed.

"You, my friend, have problems," Danny said. He waved a hand vividly at the containers of gasoline and boxes of packing peanuts that surrounded the workbench where Steve was standing. "How can you not even break a sweat or have a nervous breakdown while making napalm? You just stand there mixing it like you're making brownies."

"Exploding brownies," Steve said. "This is homemade napalm, so it's not as sticky or reliable as military grade, but it's still nasty."

Danny massaged his temples. "And why are we doing this, again?"

"We're going to lure Nelligan out of hiding with an offer that's too good to pass up, and then use him to catch his partners."

"Ah, yes. We're going to use napalm to draw out the naughty nefarious weapons dealer and hope that the nut job doesn't nix us first."

"Happy with your alliteration?"

"Yes. Now, shut up and make sure you don't blow us up."

O is for Ordinary

"911, what is your emergency?"

"This is Commander McGarrett of Five-0, I need an ambulance sent to the Japanese Botanical Garden."

"What exactly is the nature of your emergency, Commander?"

"I have two officers down. One with multiple dragon bites and another with a GSW to the lower abdomen. I think it missed his vital organs and there is an exit wound."

"Are both patients conscious?"

"Kono is, and Danny…hey, Danny, eyes open, man. Paramedics are on the way. Don't give me that…ow! He's conscious."

"Commander, is the scene safe?"

"Yes. Both suspects have been apprehended."

"Are you able to determine what type of dragon bit your officer?"

"Drake. No need for antivenin."

"Are both patients breathing normally?"

"Hang on…yeah, Kono is. Danny's breaths are rapid and kind of shallow, but he's still talking. No, this wasn't my fault. No, it isn't an occupational hazard of working with me. Hey, shut up, you're breathing too fast."

"An ambulance should be turning off East-West Road right now and heading towards you."

"I can hear the sirens. No, Danny, I'm fine. I don't need checked out, too."

The dispatcher shook her head as the call ended. The Five-0 Taskforce certainly offered them a chance to go through their paces on an almost disturbingly regular schedule. So much so that the call that she'd just been involved with was becoming ordinary.

P is for Protector

"Danno, can I see your claws?"

He peeked over the edge of the case file he was perusing. The pair of them were sitting on the couch watching a movie, a big bowl of popcorn sharing the space between them.

"Why do you want to see my claws, Monkey?"

"I dunno. Please, can I see them?"

Danny sighed and set his hand in her waiting palms. Diamond shaped scales patterned over his flesh and particularly mean looking claws protruded out from his nailbeds. They weren't anywhere near the length they were when he was in dragon form, but they were pretty formidable all the same.

Grace traced her fingers down one claw and then up the next one. She pored over every curve of every claw, paying close attention to the scratches and dings from wear and tear.

She grinned. "My, what big claws you have."

Danny smiled and pulled her closer to him. "All the better to protect you with."

Q is for Qi

Danny glanced around at the tranquil reception area. It had a certain energy that was soothing, from its earthy colors to the plants and water features to the absolutely massive aquarium with its colorful round fish that all schooled together. It was almost enough to make him forget why he was here. Almost.

Chin must have noticed his nervous demeaner. "Don't worry, brah. These are good people. Kono came here after she blew out her knee and I come here whenever I get something knocked out of place."

"It's just irritating, you know?" Danny winced as he fidgeted around in the chair. "For all the bone and muscle rearranging, changing, sprouting, growing, shifting, whatever, that dragons can do, we still manage to get ribs out of place. How does that even happen?"

Chin shrugged. "You are asking the wrong person."

"Danny?"

A woman appearing to be in her early twenties stood in the doorway next to the aquarium with a smile on her face. Danny got up and left Chin sitting in the reception area while he followed the woman back into the interior of the building.

"I'm Ray," she extended her hand. "So, you're Chin and Kono's workmate?"

"For better or for worse," he said, a tiny smirk curling one side of his mouth.

She grinned. Unlike the soothing atmosphere of the reception area, she had a more upbeat energy. "According to Chin you have a few ribs out, right? Have you been to a chiropractor before?"

He laughed. "In my line of work, it would have been nearly impossible for me to have stayed away from one."

"Cop. Right," she nodded.

A withered old woman slowly walked down the hallway towards them, having the gait of a tortoise with her body bent over her wooden cane. Despite the fragility of her appearance, ancient laugh lines and crows feet wrinkled her face from her smile.

"The qi is quite muddled with this one," she commented with a dry chuckle and patted Danny's arm before continuing on her journey down the hallway.

"My what is what?" he asked.

Ray turned a corner and led him into a room. "Qi. Life force. Breath. Energy. If Auntie says the qi has problems, the qi has problems."

"Huh," he said and sat on the edge of the padded table. His hands darted up to flit around in the air. "No offense, but all of that homeopathic, energy, pseudoscience stuff is a little bit out there for me."

"No, no. I get it. People think we're quacks," she said. She skimmed over the papers on her clipboard before looking up at him. "The whole qi thing isn't really my style, but Auntie's run this practice for years and she knows when something's off before the person even does, so I just listen to her. Whether she's some kind of qi sensitive Yoda or not, she's always right. You don't argue with Auntie. You never win when you argue with Auntie."

"Sounds like my partner," Danny muttered.

"Steve?"

"How'd you–"

"He came in after he broke his arm. The guy sounded like Rice Krispies while I was putting him back in place. You'll have to ask him what Auntie told him about his qi," Ray said.

They talked for a bit longer about his history, his knee, what had knocked his ribs out of place, standard procedure. Finally, Ray set her clipboard down. "Okay, you ready Danny?"

"Am I ready to have my bones forcibly relocated? No. But they're killing me, so I guess I need it," Danny quipped as he laid back on the table.

"If it's any consolation, I won't try to make you cry like I did with Steve."

"Wait, you made Super SEAL cry? Do you have any footage of this event?"

"Sorry. Patient confidentiality. Now, relax. Breathe in, and out."

Crack.

R is for Rage

Running his hand over the smooth texture of the banyan tree's prop roots let his mind momentarily refocus. Another restless night had brought him up here in the wee hours of the gray dawn. He wasn't looking forward to chasing his racing thoughts around in circles today. He'd already done that yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. And the day before that. And so many days before that.

He raked his fingers through his hair. His new life in Hawaii had both invigorated him and worn him ragged. But up here, far removed from society and prying eyes, no one could see the reality of his emotional state. How deep the wounds ran.

Steve was in prison, Kono was suspended, Chin had slunk off to HPD, and Five-0 had been disbanded. Though he reckoned Chin was working some angle and hadn't completely abandoned them, that was really just the cake. The cherry on top was Rachel's call to him this morning.

The baby wasn't his.

It wasn't his.

It was Stan's.

Not. His.

He roared and swung at a tangled mass of prop roots. Monstrous claws and rough scales ripped through the wood. Birds reeled away from the trees in a cacophony. Splinters flew as he ravaged three more tangles of prop roots. Claws shredded and tore through the tree.

It was the anger at Wo Fat, at IA, at Rachel that fueled him now. Finally, realization struck that he'd never have his family back together, making the empty void of depression rear its ugly head, but he shoveled handfuls of something else into that open space. His adoptive ohana had been shattered like the unfortunate prop roots that he had decided to let his steam out on. He, however, was going to rebuild that family. He'd get his best friend out of jail, get IA off Kono's back, and figure out where Chin stood.

For now, it was the rage the eclipsed all else.

S is for Security

Six o'clock that morning brought Mauna seven frat boys with blue pee. She suspected methylene blue was the culprit. Some kind of hazing or revenge or a prank. It wasn't her job to speculate, only to treat.

Seven thirty brought her a sixteen year old along with his father to her. Apparently, they had been fishing and the fishhook stuck in his thumb was confirmation enough for her. He said that his fingers slipped while tying the hook to the line and it went right through the pad of his thumb. Several minutes later she had the hook out, the thumb bandaged, and a tetanus shot given.

Eight o'clock brought her a cop that had been stabbed by a drug dealer. Funnily enough, he had been saved by the notebook in his breast pocket and it resulted in the blade only giving him a tiny slash on his chest and a sizable bruise. Another bandage and tetanus shot sent him on his way.

Eight forty brought her a rather embarrassed man. He reluctantly told her that he had been completely sloshed the night before and with a red face, asked if there was a male doctor instead. She sent Hale in. Later, she was filled in on the incident, Hale almost shattering her passive façade as he told her. Something to do with a glow stick in a rather unpleasant place.

Nine o'clock brought her a gentleman in his seventies having a heart attack.

Nine thirty brought her a case of food poisoning with leftover sushi being the likely suspect.

Nine fifty brought her a toddler that had been stung by fire ants.

Ten twenty brought her a surfer that had scraped a section of skin off her lower back on some sharp rocks.

Ten forty brought her a three vehicle wreck. They had nine patients, three of them children under the age of twelve. She along with Hale and two other doctors scrambled to stabilize them all. It was her passive façade that she kept up that allowed her to do CPR on a six year old until her arms ached. Until they called it. She remained under the passive façade, but Hale could see through it. The cold snark and silent fury. That was where she was safe.

A quarter 'til noon, while she still had blood on her scrubs and her arms tingled from pumping on a small chest, brought her a terrified woman. It took a single look. A single look at the broken arm, bruised neck, and cut lip. Sighing, wiping the blood off her palms onto the scrubs she was going to have to change out of before tending to the woman, she prepared to notify the police at the woman's behest.

She'd barely reached the front desk when a monster straight out of a Greek story stormed into the ER. He was a big Samoan, with sequoia sized arms and legs.

"Where is she?!"

Mauna made a snap judgement, pegging him as the abuser. She stood her ground in the hallway, no longer needing to notify the police. The snarling man had called enough attention to himself for the nurse at the desk to pick up the phone.

"Sir, you need to calm down and take a seat," Mauna said. She had the type of voice that brooked no room for argument in every other situation, and hoped that this would be no different.

"Where the hell is she?! Where's my wife?!" He made to go around her.

She sidestepped into his path. He squinted his eyes at her.

"Move!"

Mauna took the shove to her shoulders like a pro, only stepping back somewhat and maintaining her ground. "Sit. Down."

He let out an enraged roar at her and then at the security guards that appeared on either side of him. Bellowing, he swung his fist around and struck one guard in the jaw. While that guard sunk to the floor, the man slammed the other one into the wall.

Mauna dodged the beefy fist aimed at her face, but just barely. She skirted around the raging man as he charged her. Now that no one was in his way he continued down the hallway.

"Shit," Mauna cursed under her breath.

She was back on her feet and sprinting after him when the choked sobbing reached her ears. He was yelling again, yelling and reaching for the stricken woman cowering against the bed. He didn't get much farther.

Mauna sprung from the floor onto his back, snaking one arm around his neck and bracing the other behind his head. Her rugged blood red scales shielded her arms and added an extra painful bite to her strangle hold. He screeched like an animal. A nurse darted in and dragged the shaking woman to a safer location while he was distracted.

"Let go of me!" he backpedaled hard, squishing Mauna between his gargantuan mass and the wall. She grunted. "I swear–" slam, "–once I kill that–" slam, "–whore–" slam, "–I'm going to–" slam, "–kill you too–" slam, "–you bit–"

His tirade ended suddenly and he slumped to the floor. She stumbled up to her feet, letting her scales retreat back into hiding. Hale stood there. She raised a brow. He held up a syringe. She smirked grimly.

"You know, it's okay to show some emotion after a guy the size of a minotaur that's jacked up on steroids tries to squash you," Hale said. It was said softly with a knowing look.

She shot a glance down at her bloody scrubs, wincing at the pain in her back from being repeated slammed against the wall. Rolling her shoulders with a sigh, she started to slink away, but she let her ever present passive façade dissolve for a second before she disappeared.

"You know what, Hale? Some days really suck."

T is for Talent

Danny turned around and tuned into his daughter's voice. The taut frown he'd been sporting dissolved as he listened. He got up from the couch, leaving the case files behind, and tiptoed toward the kitchen. There at the countertop, making a PB&J for herself, his lovely daughter stood singing.

The tune was one he recognized vaguely from one of the singers Grace had taken to in recent months. It wasn't really his taste in music, because nothing beat Bon Jovi or Sinatra, but he'd listen to her sing the words off a takeout menu he enjoyed hearing her so much.

Her singing turned to muttering as she tried to twist the cap off of the jam jar.

"Need some help, Monkey?"

She jumped and fumbled with the jar until it was back on the counter safely. "Danno! I thought Uncle Steve gave you homework?"

"Is that what he told you?" Danny asked. He grabbed the jar and tapped around the edge of the lid with the butt of the butter knife to loosen it. He tutted. "You do know that I have to do half of his homework for him, too, right?"

Grace grinned as the lid popped off easily in his hand and he slid the jar back toward her. She scooped a blob out and slapped it onto the still naked slice of bread. "Uncle Steve told me that you're so talented with writing out the papers that he'll just let you do them from now on."

Danny glanced heavenward for help and then looked playfully at his daughter. "You realize he told you that because he doesn't want to admit he doesn't know how to use a pen or how to type."

"He does, too," she objected as she stored the jar back in the refrigerator.

"No, he doesn't. He still chisels things out on rocks like a caveman," Danny said.

"He also said that you have a special talent with words," she teased and smashed her two pieces of bread together.

"And he has a special talent of acting like a gorilla one hundred percent of the time," he said. A smile split his face. "And you have a talent for singing."

Grace's ears flared red. "You were listening to me?"

"Hanging on every note," Danny's hand swept out in a flowing gesture.

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you, Grace Elizabeth?" he asked. He gathered her under his arm and the two made their way back to the couch. "The best part is that I get a front row seat to every concert."

Grace set her sandwich on the coffee table and wrapped her arms around him tightly. "I love you, Danno."

"Love you more, Monkey."

U is for Understanding

"I understand, Commander."

"No, Sir, we need…wait. You understand?"

Denning nodded. Steve had to backtrack a few paces. The Governor was being unusually cooperative, and he wondered just exactly why he was being so calm and agreeable.

"I'm under the impression that they only reason your team found those ships was because Detective Williams had been kidnapped and stashed on one of them," Denning said.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. After having pulled Danny off the Hathor's Joy a few days ago, having arrested a high number of accomplices, and started a massive coordination with other authorities, they had tried to keep their reason for finding out about the ships under wraps. The last thing they wanted was for Danny's secret of being a Cliff to be revealed.

Denning apparently read his body language too well. "Don't worry, Commander. No one else knows."

"Then, respectfully, Sir, how do you know?"

"Your partner disappears from the hospital and by that very afternoon you're bringing down a major dragon breeding operation? Not to mention Williams turned up shortly after that? I may not be a detective, but I am not as blind as I think you sometimes hope I am."

Steve exhaled slowly through his nose. "So, you agree?"

"I do. After what your team has been through on the job with this case and then what your team has gone through emotionally, I understand and completely agree that you deserve a reprieve."

"Thank you, Sir."

V is for Vulnerability

"Every dragon has one," Miss Kalawai'a said. "It is very important that you know where they are and when to utilize them."

Danny leaned over to whisper to Steve. "I'm pretty sure, no matter the species, a knee to the crotch will render them harmless."

Miss Kalawai'a, the bat eared woman that she was, gave them a thinly veiled glare. "Care to venture a guess where the most vulnerable spot on an Arboreal is, Detective Williams?"

Of course. He just couldn't win today. It didn't help that Steve was snickering off to his side. "Arboreals have relative thin scales, but the neck and belly would be my educated guess, Miss."

"Dragons have a lot of neck and belly area on them. Care to be any vaguer?" she gave them a vain smirk. "Arboreals are most vulnerable in the hollows of their jaws and on their gliding wings. Amphibians have sensitives eyes and softer scales that are not as protective as those on other dragons. Serpents' whiskers and flanks are sensitive areas as are their snouts. A Wyvern's wings and jaw hollow are two of its only vulnerable areas, and the jaw hollow on a Drake is one of its only vulnerable areas. Any questions?"

A hand went up on the other side of the room. "What about Cliffs?"

Danny swallowed convulsively.

Miss Kalawai'a leveled the officer with a stern look. "I'd barely consider it a valid question."

"Why?"

"The chances of coming across a Cliff in your lifetime are virtually zero."

Danny shrugged his shoulders and made a valiant effort in appearing unconcerned. After years of practice, he was able to pull it off well.

"But what if, hypothetically, one did come across a resistant and volatile Cliff? What then?"

Miss Kalawai'a worked her jaw. "You want my honest opinion, Sanders?"

The young officer nodded.

"You pray that you can get out of there safely."

W is for Wishful

White snow. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen snow. A white blanket covering the ground, dusting the trees, spraying in her face as she snowboarded on winding trails down the mountain. The Alps or the Rockies, it didn't matter. She'd settle for a snow covered molehill if she could only be outside to touch the icy cold white and experience the frigid weather.

Tamarin shuddered and rolled over, pulling her limbs in closer to her body. The wail of another dragon in labor a few containers down wafted through the slivers in her metal box. Her prison. Her wasteland. Her coffin. Tears streaked down her face as she forced herself to think about the white snow she would never see again.

It was just wishful thinking.

X is for X-ray

"I'm keeping it."

"No, you're not."

"Oh yes, yes I am. Because this proves something that I've never doubted."

"That I'm indestructible?"

"That you, my friend, are well and truly boneheaded."

Steve glared at the x-ray that his partner was toting back to the car. His fingers brushed the bare patch on his head where the stitches held the flesh together.

"If I hadn't have started to shift, you would be in a completely different mood."

Danny sobered. "I would be making the call to your sister to let her know that her brother was killed by a xenophobic protester with a tent stake. Luckily for all of us, you have quick reflexes and a dense skull."

Steve smirked. "You always say I'm a ninja."

"A boneheaded Neanderthal animal ninja."

"Are you seriously going to keep that?"

"Yes, Steven, I seriously am going to keep it. Maybe hang it up in my office. It's like a piece of modern art."

Y is for Yammer

Steve got a good whiff of his partner's breath as Danny yawned and stretched his arms over his head. The pair of them were camped out in the back of a surveillance van waiting for their young undercover rookie to give them the code words that signaled she had found Chin and was ready for them to move in. Steve didn't care much for this sitting and surveilling stuff, and the yawn from his partner was a welcome distraction.

"Spruce," he said.

"What?"

"Maybe pine."

"What're you talking about?" Danny questioned, seemingly just as glad to have something else to do.

"Your breath. It's smoky, and that means that you've been stoking. Was it spruce or pinewood?"

"You know, it's usually considered yucky to smell someone's breath," Danny said.

Steve's brows went up in amusement. "Yucky?"

"Yucky, icky, weird, strange, uncouth, weird," Danny rattled off.

"You said weird twice."

"Because it is weird," Danny said. He flapped a hand at his mouth. "Why're you smelling my breath, huh?"

Steve spread his arms wide, bumping either side of the van. "I can't help it! Do you see this tiny box we're in? We've been in it so long that I know exactly how many whiskers you have on the right side of your face."

Danny scratched at the stubble growing along his jaw. "You have problems, Steven. Mental issues."

"Me? You're the one making a big deal–"

"Only because you're–"

"I am not a Neanderthal–"

"I was going to say–"

"Not a control–"

"Stop interrupting me, you cave–"

"Not a caveman either–"

"Really? Because I could list–"

"Hey, you hear that?"

They both fell silent and listened to the feed over the speakers.

"Yellow yams. Yellow. Yams. Yellow yams. Yelloooow yaaaams."

Kono's voice alternated between high and low pitches and singsong as she repeated the code words over and over.

"Crap," Danny flung his headphones off and bolted out of the van with Steve hot on his tail. "And for your information, it was spruce."

"I knew it."

Z is for Zombie (by The Cranberries)

Another head hangs lowly

Child is slowly taken

And the violence causes silence

Who are we mistaking?

But, you see, it's not me

It's not my family

In your head, in your head

They are fighting

Danny had to swallow hard. Had to fight the nausea. He broke away from the crime scene. He couldn't handle it. Couldn't handle the sight. Couldn't bear being there. At least, alone.

With their tanks, and their bombs

And their bombs, and their guns

In your head, in your head

They are crying

Steve had seen it before. He'd seen it overseas. But here, in Hawaii? It made him sick.

In your head

In your head

Zombie, zombie, zombie

What's in your head?

In your head

Zombie, zombie, zombie

Danny cried. Steve held him. They would get him, no doubt. They'd find justice. But right now? Right now, it hurt so bad.

Another mother's breaking

Heart is taking over

When the violence causes silence

We must be mistaken

They had to tell the parents. The mothers screamed in tears. The fathers wept and groaned in pain. They refused to give up.

It's the same old thing since 1916

In your head, in your head

They're still fighting

With their tanks and their bombs

And their bombs and their guns

In your head, in your head

They are dying

The team did not sleep until they found him. Their hunt was tireless. They never gave up. Kono sprinted after him. Chin was there beside her. Steve finally caught him. Danny cuffed him.

In your head

In your head

Zombie, zombie, zombie

What's in your head?

In your head

Zombie, zombie, zombie

They had won. They had lost. But they stood firm, always. The four of them. Together. Protecting the islands.


So, what'd you guys think of the song one? Would you be interested if I did another one or two of those or nah? Personally, I like the Bad Wolves tribute of Zombie more, but still really like The Cranberries' version, because without it the other wouldn't exist.

Next week on "Dragons", the team comes up against an unbeatable opponent. In card games.

Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, and faving!