AN: Sorry for the late update everyone. I've had this chapter written for awhile but had no time to post it yesterday. Hopefully the wait is worth it! Also, thank you as always for reading! Enjoy this chapter... it's crazy intense.

TW: violence. I didn't pull any punches, so read with caution.

After 14 hours of searching, the team had uncovered nothing - zilch, nada, zero leads as to Danny or Kingsley's whereabouts. A BOLO was issued for the car registered to Oliver Becker, but nothing came back. All they'd gained were ever-increasing levels of frustration sprinkled with a healthy dose of concern.

Well, 'concern' didn't quite cover it. 'Frantic' was a bit more accurate, although one could argue even that was a tad understated.

Despite his desire to hit the streets and rip the island apart, Chin clearly outlined the dangers of such an action. They were in the same boat as before, struggling to build a case against a man who was very good at staying off the radar. Otherwise, they'd be running blindly into something they knew very little about, potentially losing their opportunity to rescue Danny altogether.

Now, they were looking into one man while pretending to investigate another. With the Governor and HPD both apprised of Danny's violent disappearance, they'd been forced to come up with something plausible that didn't involve Kingsley. Thus, Vivoldi's associates were currently their 'primary suspects.'

In the end, it had been Steve's idea, one that covered all of their backs. If people found out exactly what Kingsley did - and they would when Five-0 nailed him - they would quickly figure out why Danny was taken. He wasn't willing to risk that. Plus, it lured Kingsley's moles into a false sense of security as they watched Five-0 supposedly chase dead ends.

It was an exercise in patience, a trait none of them really possessed at the moment. Kono's eyes betrayed her fear, chewing worriedly on her bottom lip as she sifted through information on the Smart Table. Even Chin's normally zen expression showed signs of stress, jaw clenched as he worked his way through financial records and informant statements.

Steve's own searches had come up completely empty and every dead end only served to increase his agitation. With every second he wasted here, Danny was getting further and further away. How was he supposed to focus on these meaningless little details when his partner was out there in the hands of a man ready to sell him to the highest bidder?

Or worse. After she hesitantly gave her statement for the murder of their original victim, Sarah quite clearly outlined what Kingsley did with the 'special' elites. Not that Danny would cooperate with any of what the trafficker wanted, but that meant he was probably being tortured right at this very moment to convince him to change his mind.

Meanwhile, they were here wading through pointless information in the vague hopes of finding a man who'd managed to keep a massive criminal enterprise hidden for years. Even Stallings knew little, his information specifically pertaining to the Kingsley/Vivoldi relationship. Completely on their own, their inability to pull from both HPD resources and Naval Intelligence sources made the search like chasing a ghost.

For Kingsley truly was a ghost. Despite having a name and a description from Sarah and the captured guard, they couldn't seem to find a damn thing on him. No bank accounts, credit cards, criminal history… nothing. It was like the man didn't exist.

Growling in frustration, he resisted the urge to viscously punch the plaster wall. Damn it, he should be out there tearing the island apart until he found his best friend! The inactivity was killing him. He could practically feel Danny disappearing for good with every passing second.

And that was not an option Steve was willing to consider.

He stormed out of his office, drawing both Chin and Kono's gazes. "Anything?"

Always the mediator, Chin gave him his best 'calm down and breathe' look. "We're doing our best, but it's slow going. Right now, we're looking through Oliver Becker's financials and trying to follow the money trail. Unfortunately, Kingsley seems to be extremely good at covering his tracks."

"But based on both Stallings and Sarah's statements, we can get warrants for almost anything we want," Kono offered him a sketchy smile, adding quietly, "once we know who he is and where he's hiding."

"That's not good enough!"

Both cousins jumped at the sudden shout, their own frustration coming to bear. Glancing at where Sarah slept restlessly on the couch in Kono's office, Chin shot him a stony glare. Muscles clenched, the normally calm detective looked more than ready for a fight.

"That," he breathed quietly, voice even and edged with steel, "is not helpful, McGarrett. We want to find Danny just as much as you do. You yelling and banging your fists is not contributing to the search. So either settle down or go back into your office until you're under control."

Neanderthal, he could almost hear Danny's teasing tone. Did you forget to read today's chapter in "How to Behave Like a Sane Person"? Because this is not your best look, babe.

He forced himself to take a deep, steady inhalation, then another. "Sorry," he mumbled, massaging his temples with his fingers. "Besides the money trail, what other leads do we have?"

"Cold kidnapping cases involving elites, plus some foster care system discrepancies that are sealed by court order," Chin answered, his gentler tone a wordless acceptance of the apology. "Sarah's statement shed quite a bit of light on how widespread the operation is. If we can keep untangling the web, we'll get to the center eventually. Unfortunately, there's not much else we can do tonight since it's so late."

"Did you turn up anything in your search?" Kono asked hesitantly.

Steve shook his head. "Nothing. I went as far as my security access would take me in several databases, including Interpol and the CIA. All I got were more dead ends. I left some messages calling in some favors." He shrugged helplessly. "Hopefully, someone gets back to me with something concrete. Until then, there's nothing I can do."

Hear that, D? I can't do anything to find you. Some cop I am, huh?

Reading him with no effort at all, Chin's expression softened. He rose from his chair at the side table and carefully approached the SEAL, drawing him into a gentle embrace. It only lasted a moment, but Steve nearly broke at the offer of comfort.

"Hey," Chin intoned, meeting his gaze steadily, "we'll find him. Danny's tough; he'll hold out until we storm in to rescue him. Who knows, he might've already escaped himself."

It was an extremely optimistic projection, one Steve knew in his gut wasn't true, but he held onto it nonetheless. "Grace called me, y'know," he said, the confession bubbling out of his mouth before he could stop it. "She wanted to know how her Danno was doing and thank me for helping him. She said no one else knows, and she's happy to share the secret with us. Then," he stopped, swallowing hard, "then she asked me why he hadn't called her back all day."

"You'll find him, right, Uncle Steve?"

"I'll do everything I can to find him, Gracie. I promise."

"I know you can. Danno says you're a good detective, even if you sometimes run off an' do stupid stuff an' blow things up for no reason."

Choking back a mixture of laughter and tears, he replied, "Well, your dad's a great teacher."

"Steve? You okay?"

Suddenly unable to face the scrutiny of his team, he cleared his throat and nodded once. "You guys head home for the night and get some rest. There's not a whole lot more we can do here tonight."

A raised eyebrow from Chin and a snort from Kono clearly said that neither of them intended to go anywhere.

Floored by his teammates' loyalty, he smiled wanly. He noted the exhaustion on their faces - no doubt mirroring his own - and made an executive decision. "Well then, we're gonna need good coffee from Ali'i. It's on me."

He grabbed his keys and headed out the door, reveling in the chance to get some fresh air and simply move. Maybe this would spark some sort of inspiration, some new angle that none of them had considered.

When he first walked into the parking lot, he instinctively headed for the Camaro in its usual parking spot. He'd dropped it off there when he and Chin had returned to HQ to interview Stallings the night before. But now, it didn't feel right to drive it, not without a certain hotheaded blond occupying the passenger's seat.

The streets were all but empty at this hour of the night, the dim streetlights and quiet night a balm to Steve's troubled soul. He thoroughly enjoyed driving, but driving at night was its own treat. It gave him the chance to calm down and wrestle with problems without any witnesses.

Except Danny, of course. But Danny didn't count.

And Danny wasn't here.

About ten minutes into the drive, the engine of his truck sputtered angrily. Frowning, he checked his dash and saw no warning lights. But a moment later, the engine gave one last coughing complaint and promptly died, forcing him to flick on his hazards and quickly navigate to the shoulder.

What the hell?

Climbing out of the cab, he popped the hood of his truck and tried to tamper down his frustration. His truck had been working just fine that morning, and he hadn't taken it anywhere since driving to the Palace after searching the hospital grounds. Pulling out a small pocket flashlight, he peered down at the engine and tried to determine the source of the problem.

It didn't take long to figure out that his engine had seized with no obvious cause. Fantastic. He was definitely calling the dealership and raising hell once Danny was back and safe. The truck wasn't even a year old yet, for crying out loud!

The rumble of another car approaching drew his attention back to the road, blinking as his eyes readjusted to the darkness. A moment later, an SUV slowed to a stop and pulled off the road just ahead of him and a burly guy hopped out.

"Car trouble?" the guy asked, approaching the truck with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Senses tingling, Steve nodded cautiously. "Yeah," he said casually, his hand falling to rest on the butt of his pistol. "I got it handled, thanks."

"You sure?" The guy glanced at the engine and shrugged. "I can take a look at it. I work in a garage… might be able to fix it so you don't gotta call a tow."

"I really appreciate that, but I got it cov- -"

His statement was interrupted by the screech of tires. Spinning around with his gun already drawn, he was just in time to see an unmarked van - headlights off - skid to a stop uncomfortably close to his truck. Before he could blink, four guys had already hopped out with automatic weapons trained on him.

He didn't even get a chance to issue a warning before a shot rang out, flinching as the guy beside him collapsed with a bullet hole in his skull. Blood splattered against his clothes, the would-be Good Samaritan dead before he hit the ground.

"Drop the gun, McGarrett."

Not good, not good, not good.

Despite what Danny loudly claimed, he wasn't suicidal. One look at the barrels of four machine guns gleaming in the glow of his hazard lights had him complying with the order. "What do you want?" he called, peering through the darkness in hopes of spotting some sort of weakness.

A disembodied chuckle made his skin crawl. "Leverage."

He never saw the taser until the leads were already stuck in his chest, electricity coursing through his veins. It was an experience he was unfortunately familiar with, his muscles seizing predictably as he collapsed to the dirt. Helpless, he grunted as his hands were wretched behind his back and restrained, his pockets emptied and contents strewn on the ground, and a bag thrown over his head.

He couldn't do a blessed thing when they yanked him to his feet and shoved him into the back of the van.

By the time he managed to fight off the effects of the taser, the van had rolled to a stop and he was dragged out of it. With two guys roughly supporting his weight, he stumbled forward until they pushed him down to his knees.

A moment later, someone ripped the bag off of his head and he squinted against the harsh fluorescent light. Aside from the men with machine guns - the number which had increased to seven - there was nothing to indicate that this was a base of operations. Cinderblock walls and a concrete floor boxed in a wide space that looked more like a small shipping warehouse than anything else, a loading dock door positioned on his right. It was rather unimpressive, in his rather honest opinion.

However, the man standing directly in front of him told an entirely different tale.

He matched Stallings and Sarah's descriptions perfectly, but Steve would've recognized him anyway. Between the expensive wardrobe, large number of bodyguards (which was a little overkill in Steve's opinion), and leering stare, this man could only be Brad Kingsley. Clearly, the tall trafficker thoroughly enjoyed a good power play, eyes gleaming as he examined the kneeling figure before him.

Steve raised a disdainful eyebrow in return.

Weighing his options, he realized he didn't have many choices. Greatly outnumbered and outgunned, he'd be riddled with bullet holes before he could make a single move. Plus, he still didn't know where Danny was, and he didn't want to make a move until he figured out this vital piece of information.

So that left waiting. He hated that option.

Plastering on his favorite bored expression that annoyed every training officer he'd ever met, he subtly tested the restraints as his gaze roamed around the room. There was no sign of any kids being held here as there was no place to keep them. A single room was situated off to the side - a small one, by his calculations. So this was merely a staging area, a meeting place to ensure the true base of operations remained secure.

Damn it, he hated the smart ones.

The two men stared each other down, one attempting to intimidate and the other showing nothing but vague indifference. However, the silent standoff ended when a guard sneezed, earning a smirk from Steve and an annoyed huff from Kingsley.

"You'll do," the trafficker declared, then ordered, "Bring him in!"

A guard pounded his fist against the door to the side room, drawing Steve's attention. Within a few moments, the door opened and a group emerged. A woman in a white lab coat and the orderly Oliver Becker - who had a bashed nose and two black eyes - in the lead while two more guards followed behind, dragging a restrained figure between them.

Danny.

Jaw clenched, he scanned his partner as the group got closer and resisted the urge to snarl. Danny looked terrible. Though they'd had him captive for less than 24 hours, it looked as though it'd been longer. His cheeks were sallow and his navy t-shirt was stained and hung off of him in tatters. Try as he might to walk under his own power, his knees couldn't seem to hold his weight. His eyes were dull, his face lined with pain, and his hair was matted and unkempt.

Worst of all, his hands - restrained by metal cuffs in front of him - shook like a college kid who'd chugged 10 cans of Redbull in a single sitting.

Whatever Kingsley had done to him clearly undid all the good Dr. Sterling oversaw back at the hospital. And the lack of extreme visible wounds sparked a worry that some harsher means had been utilized.

Leverage, the guy who tased him had said. Apparently, Danny hadn't cracked yet and that realization brought a surge of pride mixed with dread. He could handle anything Kingsley threw at him, but he wasn't sure that Danny could withstand watching.

Judging by the quickly hidden look of horror when Danny spotted Steve kneeling on the ground, Steve doubted it. Not that he blamed his friend - he wouldn't be able to last long if the situation was reversed.

Evidently, Kingsley had also noticed Danny's alarm before the injured man could hide it. Sneering, he strode up to the detective and grabbed his jaw. Danny futilely tried to pull away, eyes darting to Steve before defiantly meeting the trafficker's gaze.

Bless that mile-long stubborn streak his partner possessed.

"I hope you've reconsidered your previous lack of cooperation," Kingsley murmured. "If you continue to resist, your friend will be punished twice as severely as you. Now, heal Mr. Becker."

"Like I told you, I can't heal him." Danny shot back, his voice so raspy that Steve winced. It sounded like nails scraping against a blackboard. "I am physically incapable of healing him. Nothing you do is gonna change that!"

It was a bluff, Steve knew, and a damn good one. Elites with a Soul percentage were unheard of, their existence a myth at best. The best lie was built on a foundation of truth.

Unfortunately, Kingsley clearly refused to believe it. A pointed look had the guards supporting Danny's weight smoothly stepping backwards as the trafficker pulled a fob out of his pocket. With a theatrical flourish, he pressed the button and Danny immediately collapsed to the cement. Screams destroyed his already damaged vocal cords, muscles seizing as he writhed. It was over a moment later, but Danny kept twitching as his ragged breaths exploded from his lungs.

"Hey!" he yelled, knowing that it was both foolish and futile. "He's had enough, alright? If he says he can't do what you're asking, then he can't do it!"

Turning that sickening smile on him this time, Kingsley tilted his head. "We'll see, won't we?"

He knelt beside the still-whimpering detective and grabbed a fistful of his hair, using it to pull Danny upright. One look at Danny's face twisted Steve's stomach in knots - anger, concern, and heartbreak vying for dominance in his turbulent emotions. Kingsley seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the torment of both men. His expression was positively gleeful as he backhanded Danny's cheek.

"Watch," he murmured silkily.

Before Steve could brace himself, one of the guards nearby raised his handgun and promptly blew a hole in Steve's left quad.

The leg immediately buckled, refusing to hold his weight and sending to the ground. Instinctively, he fought the restraints on his wrists, trying futilely to grasp the wound. Unfortunately, his moderate invulnerability did nothing against a shot point blank at such close range. It was a through-and-through that - judging from the blood flow - hadn't hit an artery.

Still, it hurt like hell. At least he hadn't screamed, but it took every ounce of his control to bring himself back to center and compartmentalize the pain.

But as he blinked away the haze of agony, he saw Danny's terrified stare as clear as day. He was fighting against his own restraints, earning a punch in the stomach for his efforts. When he managed to catch Danny's eye again, he subtly shook his head.

Don't do it, Danno. I can take it.

Two guards hauled him back up to his knees - stepping away immediately to get out of the line of fire - and he groaned as his leg screamed at the move. Swaying, he blinked against a bought of lightheadedness and glared at Kingsley. "'S that all you g-got?"

But Kingsley ignored him, eye boring into Danny with a lustful intensity. "Well, Daniel? Have you had a change of heart?"

"You - you're insane!" Danny sputtered, face apple-red with rage. "What'd you think that was gonna do, huh? You think that shooting him is gonna just miraculously give me healing powers? I. can't. do. it! I can't heal him!"

Only Steve could hear the desperation in his best friend's voice.

"Pity." Still clenching a fistful of Danny's hair, he yanked the detective closer to Steve. "Shoot him again."

"What?"

This time, Steve was only slightly more prepared as a second bullet ripped through his shoulder.

"What the hell? This - this is pointless! I can't do it, you hear me? I can't do it! Stop shooting him!"

"Again."

You'd think the third bullet wound would hurt less, he pondered dimly as another bullet slammed into his previously unwounded leg. Unable to support himself, he collapsed to the ground once more in pure agony. The world around him dimmed and unconsciousness loomed, but he fought it with every ounce of strength in his body.

He wouldn't leave Danny alone. Not again.

But it hurt, so much so that he couldn't stop the moans from escaping his lips. The human body was not meant to sustain such a violent injury, not even an enhanced one like his own. One more shot would certainly be enough to knock him into unconscious oblivion.

Of course, it was already too late. Three bullet wounds - though non-fatal by themselves - amounted to a devastating blood loss. He could already feel the signs, and he highly doubted Kingsley was going to allow triage for him.

No, he was leverage - a tool to break Danny.

And apparently, it finally worked.

Danny was screaming now, vulgar language spewing from his lips in between words of furious agreement. Sneer widening, Kingsley dragged Danny over to Oliver Becker.

Through the shadowy haze falling over his vision, Steve watched helplessly as Danny hesitated and glanced over at him with open fear lining his face. Summoning the last of his strength, he shook his head and bit back a moan of pain. "D'nny, no - -"

"Shut up, Steven," Danny warned wanly before placing his cuffed hands on Becker's face and closed his eyes. Then Becker's eyes closed as well, an expression that could only be described as pure ecstasy crossing his features. A moment later, the swelling disappeared and the bruises shifted from dark red, to deep purple, to green and yellow, to a normal skin tone.

A low murmur of shock filled the space; the woman in the white lab coat instantly stepped up and examined Becker's newly healed face. Meanwhile, Danny stumbled backwards, saved from crashing to the cement by a nearby guard. His face complexion pale and a sickly gray, he looked as though he hadn't slept in weeks and that damn tremble had only increased.

At least he was still conscious, something Steve was rapidly losing.

"The injury is completely resolved, sir," the woman spoke up. "I can't account for this progression, not with normal methods anyway."

Kingsley's excitement was more than evident in his voice. "I knew it, I knew it! What's in your power makeup? Reality? Time?"

Silence for a moment, then Danny weakly murmured, "Energy… and Soul."

Practically bouncing in excitement, Kingsley gestured at his guards. "Alright, pack it up. Once we get back to base, I want a full physical run on him and profile made up. Jordan, reach out to our contacts and establish a client list - for hire only, not for sale."

As the men moved around him, Steve let his eyes slip shut. He knew exactly what was happening, how this ended for him. Regret eating away at his gut, he allowed a single tear to roll down his cheek. While he bled out here, Danny would disappear. He'd be pimped out to the criminal underworld, drained dry as soulless people took advantage of his gift.

And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

I'm sorry, Danno.

Apparently, his partner was just realizing this. "Wait! Let me help Steve, alright? Let me go!"

But Kingsley only chuckled. "Help him? What makes you think I'd let you do that?"

"That was the deal, Kingsley!" Danny's voice strengthened, fiery obstinance unleashed in its full force.

"We never made a deal, elite. You're mine now. You have no rights and no bargaining chips. Oh, but don't worry! I'll help your friend."

Unfortunately, Steve wasn't so far gone that he couldn't feel the fourth bullet slam into his stomach. With a grunt, he sagged against the concrete and let the darkness chase away the pain tearing him to shreds.

"NO!"

Danny.

"Let me go! Let me help him!" His best friend's voice was panicked, all his emotions laid bare for the trafficker to rip apart. "Please!"

"Mmmm, let me think about that. No. Get him out of here."

"If he dies, I won't do what you want!"

It was getting harder to hear, Steve realized dimly, as the welcome heavy-body feeling of looming unconsciousness overtook his pain. But now he fought it feebly as the realization of what Danny was promising became clear.

Judging by the silence, Kingsley knew it too.

"That's right." Stubborn to the end, Danny lunged at this sliver of hope with everything he had. "I'll fight you every step of the way. Nothing you do will make me cooperate and your clients won't like that. But if you let me heal Steve, I won't fight you. I'll do whatever you want as long as he's alive and unhurt, alright?"

He must've faded for a moment, because the next thing he felt were warm, calloused fingers frantically jabbing at his neck in search of a pulse. "- -eve, buddy, stay with me, alright? It's gonna be fine, I got you. Just stay with me for a little while longer."

In the movies, this would be the part where the dying hero blinked their eyes open and stammered out some heartbreaking speech amidst groans of pain. Real life wasn't like that. Steve barely had the strength to shake his head from side to side in protest, eyes still stuck shut.

But Danny was having none of it. "Yes, you schmuck. You're gonna be fine, I promise."

The following I'm so sorry was so quiet that Steve wondered if he'd made it up. But he was fading fast, falling headfirst into Morpheus's realm despite his best efforts. Danny was too late, too weak after his many ordeals to pull him back from this brink. Still, he held onto the last remaining sensations of this world he'd be leaving.

That's when a soothing, glorious warmth erupted in his body where bullet wounds previously punctured. Like the sun piercing the clouds after a monsoon, it chased away clouds of pain and ignited the world around him. It was like a mother's hug, wrapping itself around his freezing body and singing the song of life.

He'd never felt anything so magnificent in his entire life.

Then, darkness.

Oof, alright. Glad we got that part out of the way. I really enjoyed describing Danny's powers here from the receiver perspective. Also, this scene parallels the one with Danny's dad, only this time Danny's able to save Steve. Had a lot of fun tying those things together. Thanks for reading!