AN: Yeah, I know Steve was a bit of a jerk in the last chapter. Sorry about that, but it unfortunately needed to happen for the sake of character development and the plot. He'll figure it out eventually. :) Also, thank you to everyone sticking with this story! I knows it's longer and more complicated than the stuff I usually write, and I'm thrilled that you all are enjoying it. Enjoy this next chapter!
"D-Dad?"
His chest hurt worse than anything had ever hurt before, worse than that one time Luke Grazzini hit him with a fastball on purpose. He hadn't cried then, but he was definitely crying now. That made his chest hurt even more.
"Da - Dad-d!"
Breathing felt like someone was sitting on his chest. When he tried to cough to clear his throat, something that tasted like metal dribbled down his chin. Fingers scrabbling against the seatbelt, he tried desperately to relieve the pressure against his chest, but to no avail. Fear bubbled in his stomach as his ribs screamed in agony and his breaths came out in short gasps.
Why wasn't his father answering him?
Opening his mouth to call out once again, his cry was aborted by a low groan from beside him. He couldn't turn his head - his neck hurt when he tried to move it - but he'd recognize that voice anywhere.
"D-Dad, please… p-please help-p!"
All he heard was another moan.
Truly sobbing now, he hiccupped desperately as his lungs refused to pull in enough air. Trying to turn his head sent lightning bolts of agony from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, heightening his anxiety. With the body of the car pressing in on him and his own inability to move or breathe properly, fear skyrocketed into something beyond even desperation.
This must be what it feels like to die, he thought dimly. Like Billy.
"D'nny?"
The voice, though slurred and odd-sounding, was music to his ears. Frantically, he attempted to answer his dad, but only a whistled cough came out. More iron-tasting liquid dribbled down his chin.
It hurt. And all he wanted was for it to stop.
"Danny!" His dad's voice - much stronger this time - heralded the desperate grasp against his wrist. That hand found its way to his cheek, then started shaking his shoulder. "Danny, son, answer me!"
He would if he could, but all that came out of his mouth was a whimper of his own. Eyes slipping shut, he let it all fade away. Rest, just for a minute. He'd answer in a minute.
A rough shake jarred his eyelids open once more, fingers scrambling to brace his burning chest. Try as he might, he just. couldn't. breathe.
"Buddy, take my hand." A hand slipped between his sweaty palm and his chest, the familiar calluses rubbing against his knuckles. "Alright? I need you to heal yourself. Take what you need, okay? Whatever you need until you feel better."
No.
Shaking his head only earned a near-scream of pain, and the hand clasping his squeezed even more tightly.
"Do it!" Patrick Williams barked in that 'don't-mess-with-me' tone that no one dared defy. The last time Danny had, he'd been grounded for a whole month.
"Trust me, son. Do as I say, alright?"
Obediently, he closed his eyes and began taking from his dad until he could breathe again, until he could turn his head and look over at the driver's side of the car. It felt good, so incredibly good. The pain dissipated and raw power took its place, everything knitting back together and reviving him. He felt invincible, and even more power was all his for the taking.
It was exhilarating and… scary.
Yanking his hand away, he finally could see his dad and he fearfully examined his pale face. "Dad?"
Licking his lips, Patrick Williams' eyelids drooped for a moment before stubbornly reopening. "Y-you alright, s-so-son?"
"I'm okay," he said, voice unbearably small. "Nothing hurts anymore."
A weak smile crossed his dad's face. "Good," he murmured, eyes slipping shut.
Before he could do anything, something ripped the car door away and many hands roughly grabbed him and yanked him out of the car. As voices around him jeered, all he could do was scream.
~H50~
He came awake with a gasp, cold sweat pooling at the base of his neck as he struggled to shake off the effects of the nightmare. Breath whistling through his lips, he grit his teeth and forced his heart rate to lower. How the hell was he supposed to rest when he kept dreaming about that night?
At least he'd woken up before the end.
Better yet, no one was there to witness the little episode. He tried not to think about the tiny twinge of hurt in his chest at the sight of the barren hospital room devoid of his team. It was for the best, he decided firmly, given Steve's reaction earlier. They probably all hated him, just like Steve.
With a long sigh, Danny ran a shaky hand through his unkempt hair before grabbing his phone off the side table. Based on his still-debilitating level of exhaustion, he hadn't napped for as long as he'd initially hoped. Every inch of his body ached and he felt as though he weighed a thousand pounds, so he definitely had at least another 10 hours of sleep ahead of him before he felt moderately aware again.
Yup, he'd only managed to get three hours since his first awakening. Fan-flipping-tastic. At this rate, he'd be back to normal by next Christmas.
Damn it all, he hated using his powers. The side effects made him feel like a junkie going through withdrawal combined with sleeping enough to give Rip Van Winkle a run for his money.
Fighting the fog that threatened to pull him back under once more, he grabbed the clothes someone had left for him and quickly changed into the soft t-shirt and sweats. He practically collapsed back in bed as he checked his messages with a stubborn hope that Steve had tried to call him - a hope that whispered that his best friend didn't hate him after all. But there was nothing, only a missed call from Grace the night before.
He sat up a little straighter and noted the time, judging that she'd probably be awake by now. Thumbing the number, he waited patiently until a cold voice answered, "Daniel."
"Rachel," he replied in the same tone. "I was just returning Grace's call from last night. Is she up?"
"Yes, she's awake. And she was rather unhappy when you never called her back last night. I told her you were busy."
Gritting his teeth at the thinly-veiled insult, he resisted the urge to get into a verbal sparring match with his ex. He was far too tired and he'd likely give her even more ammunition for taking Grace away entirely. "Can you just put her on, please?"
No answer came from Rachel, but some rustling and the faint sound of a beloved voice caused his shoulders to slump in relief.
"Danno?"
"Heyyy, Monkey! How are you, huh?"
"I'm good! Yesterday me 'n Mom 'n Stan went sailing! It was soooo cool!" Barely taking a breath, his daughter ploughed on with her detailed account of the day with Danny listening attentively. And if his stomach clenched at all the elaborate things Stan showered on her that he couldn't afford himself, his beautiful daughter would never know.
"That sounds fun!" he said once she finished her lengthy story of all she'd seen and done. "I'm glad you had a nice time."
"Did you do anything fun this weekend, Danno?"
Chuckling, he stifled a yawn. "I had to go into work yesterday, so I got to stop Uncle Steve from blowing stuff up. So no, nothing fun. I'm savin' all of it for when you come to visit next weekend, right?"
Her answering giggle was music to his ears. But all too soon, it disappeared. "Is that why you didn't answer my call yesterday?"
Since Grace was old enough to talk, Danny vowed that he'd never lie to his daughter. Shield her from harsh truths? Sure. Water some things down for her? Absolutely. But he'd never lie to her. "No, Monkey, I was sleeping. I'm sorry I missed your call."
Grace was smart as a whip, even at her young age. Between the unusually early bedtime and his tired tone, he knew that she'd be able to put the pieces together quickly. She was one of very few who knew the full extent of his abilities, even receiving some of his special "help" herself.
Before the unfortunate incident yesterday, Grace was the only person within 5,000 miles who knew his secret. It was ironic considering Rachel had no idea. He wondered if he knew even back then how their marriage would end, that his secret would become a weapon should she discover it.
But Grace… Grace was his fiercest cheerleader, reminding him that his gifts were not a flaw. Her little voice dropped to a whisper. "Did you help someone?"
"I did. Everybody's okay now."
She snorted. "Of course they are. You always fix them 'cause you're the best ever."
"I don't know about that, sweetheart - -"
"You are," she insisted. Then, in the next breath, "Does Uncle Steve know? Did he help you?"
Sighing, he chewed his bottom lip. "He knows now and he did what he could," he answered truthfully, leaving out the part where his partner yelled at him before storming out. As another wave of weariness washed over him, he failed to stifle his yawn. "I should probably get some more sleep, kiddo. Talk later, alright?"
"Okay, Danno. Make sure you rest!" she admonished, suddenly sounding a lot older than her 9 years. "Love you!"
"Love you more."
The dial tone erased the small smile from his lips, reminding him of his limited access to his own daughter. It hurt every time, but today it felt like a sledgehammer to the sternum.
Damn, he needed more sleep. The exhaustion was making him weepy.
Setting his phone back on the side table, he finally noticed the small head peeking through the doorway. It retreated away as soon as he glimpsed it, but he could still sense the hovering presence by the doorframe. "Hey, you can come in," he called on a hunch. "It's okay."
Slowly, a slight figure emerged from her hiding spot, soundlessly slipping into the room and shutting the door behind her. His hunch was correct - it was indeed the kid that Steve had shot and he had healed. Relieved, he noted that she seemed totally fine.
"Hi," he smiled as warmly as he could manage, fighting sleep once more. "We didn't get a chance to formally meet. My name's Danny. What's yours?"
Hesitantly approaching the bed, she stared at him with unrivaled intensity. "Sarah," she murmured.
"Nice to meet you, Sarah. That's a really pretty name."
She nodded absently, examining him with a piercing gaze and glaring at the IV. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice far too serious for her young age. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"
That fear mixed with protective fire welling in the depths of her gaze was all too familiar, something he used to see when he looked in the mirror. Her mistrust mirrored his own, exacerbated by her youth and the recency of the terrors she must've experienced.
"No, they haven't hurt me," he replied gently. "I'm more worried about you. Are you in any pain?"
He knew she wouldn't be, but her negative head shake reassured him nonetheless. Edging closer to him, she glanced over her shoulder at the door and it broke his heart even further. "Where's Steve? He's supposed to be here and keep you safe while I'm with Chin Ho and Kono."
Swallowing around the boulder that suddenly reappeared in his throat, he decided that he was far too tired to deal with all of this right now. "He had to go, sweetheart. Don't worry, I'm safe enough here."
But she vehemently shook her head. "No, you're not! He'll come for you. He wants you!"
"What - - who wants me, Sarah?"
Sniffling, she stared at him with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen. "Mr. Kingsley. Your friends said that you guys would save the others from him, but I-I'm scared."
Suddenly, he had an armful of a sobbing little girl with no idea as to what was going on. Instincts taking over, he embraced her and softly soothed her, rubbing small circles on her back like he did for Grace. Sarah's tears wet the front of his hospital gown as she buried her face in his chest, sobs bursting from her lungs. It shattered his heart into smithereens even as he desperately tried to figure out what he'd missed with a mind too tired to cooperate.
The door burst open, heralding Chin and Kono's mad rush into the room. Both halted at the sight of the two on the bed, relief written all over their faces. And unlike Steve, the cousins didn't remain aloof and uninterested. Offering a small grin, Kono came over and patted his forearm.
"Good to see you awake," she said softly. "You had us worried, brah." Then, she lightly punched his bicep. "That's for holding out on us, you jerk. You got some explaining to do later."
He didn't entirely know what to say to that, words suddenly too much for his flagging energy reserves. Settling for a sheepish smile, he hesitantly looked over at Chin and awaited judgement from the zen Hawaiian. After all, he'd experienced Danny's unrequested intervention earlier. If Steve was mad, surely Chin would be equally vexed at his deception.
But Chin's soft smile and gentle shoulder squeeze showed anything but anger. "Magic herbal medicine, my ass," he teased. "What were those pills anyway?"
"Sugar capsules," he murmured, fighting to keep his eyelids open as he continued to soothe the hiccuping girl in her arms. "Totally useless."
"Nice, brah." Sitting on the edge of the bed, he nodded at the girl who was slowly calming down. "You rest. We'll take care of her."
Eyes already slipping closed, Danny tried to communicate the thing niggling at his consciousness. "Who's Kingsley?"
"A problem for when you wake up."
"Mmm." Now, that was something Danny could get on board with. With his final burst of energy, he voiced one final question, "St've?"
Silence, then Kono said, "He's just blowing off some steam. He'll be back - he was really worried about you."
He would've commented on the uncertainty in Kono's voice if he had the energy. But he drifted off before he could summon it, arms still cinched around the trembling little girl in his lap.
Maybe everything would be better when he woke up.
~H50~
Three decimated punching bags later, Steve's knuckles finally started to hurt.
He'd left the hospital in a red haze of rage and driven here. Like he'd told Danny less than 24 hours before, Five-0's gym had just gotten new punching bags and he was more than happy to break them in. And if he busted a few - well, it was a small enough price to pay.
Deep down, he knew that he wasn't truly mad at Danny. Frustrated and hurt, sure, but not mad. Anger was an easy emotion, one far more welcome than the pain of betrayal. Despite all of his strength, he didn't think he was strong enough to deal with the pain of Danny's deception.
But he could deal with rage, so he morphed whatever else he felt into that.
So he pounded away at a punching bag until it burst open, then hung another one and started over. Each punch punctuated a single question ringing through his mind.
Why didn't Danny trust me?
Was it something he did? Danny constantly complained that Steve was trying to get him killed. Maybe those complaints were more than just… well, complaints. Maybe Danny actually resented the danger of being Steve's partner.
Maybe Danny resented Steve.
Maybe he thought Steve was too weak to handle the weight of what he could do.
He welcomed the pain finally blossoming in his hands, his extra durability's limit finally reached. It drowned out the hurt, muffled every thought, and narrowed his focus to the punching bag in front of him.
Because this was Danny, for crying out loud! This was his best friend, someone he'd begun to count on like he used to count on Freddie. Maybe even more. This was a man who he'd walk through fire for, no questions asked. He trusted his partner more than anyone else on the planet, but Danny stomped all over that trust. He'd lied right to Steve's face and had the nerve to pretend like nothing was wrong!
BAM!
Sighing, Steve examined yet another punching bag that'd burst open from his relentless assault. As he stared at the mess on the floor, all the rage drained away and left raw vulnerability in its wake. Plopping down on a nearby crate, he bit his lower lip and forced himself to face it all. His deepest fears.
Why hadn't Danny trusted him?
A small part of him whispered that it was because Steve was inadequate, barely an elite and hardly capable of comprehending the raw power Danny wielded. But it wasn't true because that wasn't Danny, not at all.
Chin claimed it was self-preservation, an instinct ingrained deep in his psyche that was purely defensive. That was probably part of it, but there was something more. Something Steve wasn't seeing. Something that ran far deeper and had nothing to do with the situation at hand.
But at the end of the day, did it even matter why Danny had lied?
Gifts aren't what make a man great.
His father's admonishment rang in his ears, a motto he'd lived his entire life by. A man's worth was never determined in what they could do but in who they were. In many ways, who a person was led to what they could do. Loyalty, stubbornness, integrity… those were the qualities of a good person.
And Danny Williams was a good man. Maybe even a great one.
So no, it didn't matter why Danny chose to be dishonest. He didn't intend to let this go - because Danny still lied - but it wasn't the most pressing concern at the moment. Whatever the reason, it was a damn good one because that's the type of person Danny was. And that's all Steve needed.
He was wrong. He'd abandoned his best friend when Danny was at his most vulnerable. And that was not acceptable.
Jumping off the crate, he bounded up the stairs with his keys in hand. In his mind's eye, he could see the confusion and fear in his partner's eyes when he'd first woken up. Based on what he knew about the backlash of power, Danny was probably hurting quite a bit right now.
His friend needed him.
He threw open the door to the truck, barely buckling his seatbelt before squealing out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. Because, come hell or high water, he'd do everything in his power - meager as it was - to be there for Danny Williams.
~H50~
It was time.
Dr. Sterling had gone in a little bit ago and shooed everyone out, including Kingsley's prized kid. Judging from how closely she stuck to the other two cops, getting her back seemed nigh impossible. Not that it mattered. Kingsley only had eyes for Williams.
Sterling left a moment later, moving down the hallway and disappearing around the corner. Which left the target all alone in the hospital room on the quietest wing in the entire hospital. This hallway had a skeleton crew working it, and Sterling specifically requested Williams get a bed here.
That third-party decision would be the elite's downfall.
Summoning all of his composure, he psyched himself up with the thought of the massive payday awaiting him at the end of this. It was far more than the hospital currently paid him as an orderly and came with the promise of future money should he wish to continue the venture.
With one final check, he slipped the full syringe into one pocket and made sure he still had the zip ties in the other. Unlocking the wheels of the wheelchair, he strolled down the hallway and tapped lightly on the door before walking into the room.
Unfortunately, Williams was awake - unlike the three other times he'd peeked into the room. A slight hiccup, to be sure, but certainly manageable. He'd planned for this scenario.
Judging from the dark circles under the elite's eyes and his pinched expression, Williams was already hurting. This would be like taking candy from a baby.
"Detective Williams?" he asked, making a show of checking the random papers on his clipboard.
He received a tired nod in return, dull blue eyes blinking at him in confusion. "Yeah, who are you?"
"I'm Oliver Becker. I'm here to take you down for those tests."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Ignoring the detective's newly-stiff posture, he pretended to check the papers once more. "I've got an order here for an MRI from Dr. Sterling, plus a few other assorted tests. He wants them done ASAP."
"Dr. Sterling was just here and he didn't mention any tests." Suspicion was rolling off of Williams now in waves, fists bunched against the sheets as he moved closer.
"Sorry, Detective. I have my orders."
"Well, call Dr. Sterling in here, alright? I'm not going down for any 'tests' unless he tells me himself! So until he's in this room telling me that I'm getting a freaking MRI, I'm not going anywhere!"
A flash of irritation zinged through his chest, but he forced his expression to remain pleasant. "Certainly. I'll call him in a moment, sir. In the meantime, I'll get you prepped so that when he gets here, we'll be ready to go."
That offered a false sense of security for the detective, the man relaxing ever so slightly as he approached. It wasn't much, but it was just enough for what he needed to do. Pulling out the syringe, he reached for Williams' hand with the IV line, which was tucked under the blanket.
"What the hell is that?"
"Relax, Detective Williams. It's an extremely mild pain killer to keep you comfortable during the MRI. Since you're still not fully over the effects of using your abilities, Dr. Sterling wanted to be sure you'd be as relaxed as possible for these tests."
Danny stilled completely, immovable as a statue carved from marble. "What did you say?"
"Give me your hand, sir."
"No." Shaking his head, the elite's eyes bored into his own. "You said it was for the side effects of using my 'abilities,' but my chart doesn't say anything about any side effects or any special powers. So what abilities are you talking about, huh?"
Shit.
Locked in a strange tableau, neither man moved for one long second. Two.
Lunging forward, he managed to grab Williams' hand and yank it free. However, he was so focused on that one flailing hand that he completely missed the other flying at his face.
For a guy lying in a hospital bed, Williams packed a mean punch. It knocked him back, forcing him to release the hand and giving the detective enough time to scramble upright. Blinking tears from his eyes, he saw Williams reaching for the call button.
Nope, not happening.
Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he sprang forward and managed to clamp his hand against Williams' just as it grasped the remote. Ripping it away, he had just enough time to chuck it across the room before the detective bucked him off. He managed to maintain his hold on the slippery blond and both crashed to the floor, knocking over the side table with a loud crash.
They grappled for a moment - an elbow to the nose was met with a knee to the gut - before he managed to get the upper hand. Despite putting up a valiant fight, the detective wasn't in any shape to win a physical altercation at the moment. Muscles trembling, the blond's hits were getting sloppy and weaker with every passing second.
Unfortunately, his victim had other tools at his disposal. Just as he managed to subdue the elite, Williams sucked in a huge breath and opened his mouth - clearly intending to call for help.
Damn it!
Without a second thought, he grabbed a handful of the detective's hair and slammed his head against the tile floor. Williams went completely boneless, still conscious but stunned enough that he couldn't put up a fight. It was more than enough for him. Clenching his wrist, he grabbed the syringe from where it lay discarded on the floor and plunged it into the IV line. Within seconds, the strong sedative was administered and flowing through the elite's veins.
"You're lucky," he hissed maliciously, ripping out the fading man's IV with ruthless disregard for the blood that spurted out of the wound. Wiping at his own blood dripping from his probably-broken nose, he viscously slapped the elite across the face. "Kingsley wants you undamaged. But that won't last, elite. He'll put you in your place real fast."
Leaning in closer, he whispered, "I hope he breaks you, you piece of shit."
The defiant glint in Williams' eye lasted until his eyelids slipped shut, the sedative finally kicking in.
As soon as he knew the man was unconscious, he hauled him up and all but threw him into the wheelchair. It only took another minute to secure his wrists and ankles to the chair with his extra-strength clear zip ties. Then, he attached two more to the detective's biceps, holding him upright against the chair. With a blanket thrown over the guy's torso, nothing looked amiss at all.
Then he casually pushed the chair out of the room.
~H50~
Still needing a physical release, Steve elected to take the stairs. It was only three flights and he was barely breathing hard by the time he reached the top. Throwing open the stairwell door, he nearly ran into Dr. Sterling.
"What the hell?" Barely dodging the rampant SEAL, Sterling glared daggers in his direction. "It is way too early in the damn morning for running around like a crazy person."
"Sorry, Doc," he replied sheepishly. "I gotta see Danny. How's he doing?"
"Uh huh. So I guess you managed to beat out your bad mood, huh? Y'know, since taking a nap seems to be taboo for you Five-0 guys." Dr. Sterling glared pointedly at Steve's bruised knuckles. "If you're here to lay into Danny again, I'll have you kicked out so fast that - -"
"No, I'm not here to yell at him." Feet scuffing against the tile, he swallowed hard. "I'm actually here to apologize. I'm still upset, but he's my partner. He needs me - I shouldn't have stormed out like that."
Studying him for a moment, the doctor's severe expression softened into a slight smirk. "So the big bad Navy SEAL does have manners after all! I'll have to send out a memo to the rest of the hospital staff." Before Steve could retort, Sterling gestured down the hallway. "He seemed down when I last checked on him… must've missed you too."
Thankfully, Sterling had already turned around and completely missed the smile that lit up the hardened SEAL's face.
"I was actually headed that way myself," the doctor continued, striding down the hallway. "One of the nurses reported some strange sounds coming from Danny's room. Given his less-than-thrilled attitude at the sound of being stuck here for the day, he might've tried to make a run for it. But in his state, he wouldn't have made it more than a few steps."
"I dunno, Doc. Danny's a stubborn guy." Reaching the door, he grinned and grabbed the handle. "I bet he made it at least halfway across the room."
As it turned out, neither man was right.
Instead of finding the convalescing detective in bed or sprawled awkwardly on the floor, they walked into an empty hospital room that looked like a tornado had ripped through it. The sheets were half-hanging off the bed, the table was knocked over, the pillows were strewn across the ground, and the call remote was lying on the floor by the far wall.
But that wasn't the worst of it.
No, the worst part was the droplets of crimson blood smearing the tile, still gleaming in the fluorescent light. Danny's IV lay discarded nearby, and beside it was an empty syringe.
And Danny was nowhere to be seen.
"I'm calling security," Sterling breathed, voice filled with a shadow of the horror that had just woken in Steve's stomach. He was out the door before Steve could even decipher the comment, eyes still locked on the terrible scene before him.
Something… something had happened and now his best friend was gone - - and he was supposed to be protecting him. Instead, he'd stormed out like some spiteful, self-absorbed jerk and left his partner completely defenseless.
That unfroze him from his stupor. Barreling out of the room, he sprinted down the hallway. That blood was fresh. Maybe Danny was still nearby - - maybe he could still catch up!
"Danny!"
No one answered. Still, he called again and again, no matter how futile it was.
Little did he know that his partner was slumped unconscious mere seconds away. With a cheerful little ding, the elevator doors closed to block the image of the gleeful sneer of an orderly with a bloody nose looming over his prize.
There you have it: Danny gets kidnapped. All of you saw this coming from a mile away and I was cracking up when I read you all saying "Steve will regret this *when* Danny gets kidnapped." Guess I'm not very subtle, am I? Thanks for reading, and I'd love to know what you think!