A/N: Ahhh I'm so sorry this update took so long! I'm getting married in May, so I've been really busy with wedding stuff. Sorry this chapter isn't the most exciting, but the next one will have lots of action. For those who left a review, thank you so much! Your kind words are my inspiration to write :) Also, ignore any typos...

Chapter 4

"Are you gonna be sick?"

Steve's eyes fluttered open. Sweat made his shirt cling to his skin and stung the wound on his temple. He'd gagged a few times, the dizziness becoming enough to dent his iron stomach. Sleep threatened to take him, but he had to fight it, had to stay on guard in case Warner or—what was the other guy? Ricci?—came back.

Grace pushed herself up, where she'd been laying her head on his lap. Her eyes were bloodshot from previous tears. "Uncle Steve?"

"Hmm?"

"You don't look good."

Steve sensed the concern in her voice and forced a smirk. "I'm fine. Just a little tired. It's past my bedtime, you know."

"You can go to sleep if you want."

"No can do," replied Steve, shaking his head. Bad idea—the world seemed to spin like a tilt-o-whirl, forcing him to squeeze his eyes closed again.

"Why?"

"I gotta stay awake. Gotta make sure you're safe."

"I can wake you up when I hear those guys coming."

"Too risky."

Grace frowned, and they fell into silence.

Steve guessed dawn was approaching. They'd been in the basement for hours, straining their ears for any indication that Charlie was upstairs. There was no way some gun dealer would hurt a kid. No way. Charlie had to be okay. He was okay, he was okay, he was okay. Steve refused to believe anything else, because if he did, he'd certainly go insane before anyone could rescue them.

What was he going to do? Even if Steve managed a way to escape with Grace, he couldn't—he wouldn't—leave Charlie behind. Escaping this damned place was out of the question until he had both kids. It was possible Charlie had been hidden away in another room upstairs, or taken to one of the sheds outside, or maybe into the jungle where he was...

No, no, no. C'mon, McGarrett, the kid was fine. He was. Warner wouldn't shoot a kid. Right?

Something pricked at his eyes. Sweat, probably. He brought up his bound hands and swiped them across his brow, clearing the wetness away. His vision was still blurred, but it was just sweat, because Charlie was fine, and Grace was fine, and there's no way Warner could hurt a five-year-old little boy.

"Uncle Steve," said Grace. He didn't look at her. "I really think you need to take a nap. You won't be able to fight the bad guys if you're tired."

Maybe she was right. But what if the men came, and he couldn't wake up in time? What if they hurt Grace because he was too weak to keep his freaking eyes open? Again, he attempted to clear the sting of sweat out of his eyes, but there was none.

"You can lay on my lap if you want," Grace offered. "I promise I'll wake you up if I even hear a footstep, okay?"

Steve figured he didn't have much of a choice. If he didn't rest away the nausea, he'd be useless to Grace when she needed him, just like he'd been useless to Charlie. He grunted out an "Okay," and laid on his side, where Grace patted his head gently.

Already, he felt slightly more at ease. Feeling her there, knowing she couldn't move without disturbing him, made him relax. He took one last look at the blurry room, and shut his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Gracie," Steve murmured, unconsciousness pulling him under. "I'm so sorry."

Grace stroked his hair, and after only a couple minutes, Steve was asleep.

Danny downed his fourth cup of coffee.

The caffeine worsened his anxiety, but at least he was awake. His nerves were shot, and his temper was frayed. He sat in Steve's office, twirling a pen in his fingers and tapping his foot underneath the desk. His partner's phone records and emails hadn't shown anything unusual, as Danny had expected. No hits on the BOLO or the Amber Alert, either. CSU had finished processing Steve's house and sent the evidence to the lab, where techs were called in immediately to begin testing. Getting a full DNA profile could take days, but Danny was ready to move on a partial. Steve and the kids had been missing for almost ten hours. There simply wasn't time.

Danny let the pen drop. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing the tired sting away. He thought of Rachel. She'd been a mess. Hysterical. Although he still hadn't forgiven her for keeping Charlie from him, she was still the mother of his children, and he'd held her firmly in his arms as she sobbed and screamed. Eventually, he was able to convince her to stay home with a protective detail in case of a ransom call. In his heart, he knew the phone would never ring. But Rachel didn't need to know that.

Danny glanced up at movement through the office windows. Lou bustled by, his eyes underlined with dark circles. He seemed to have an endless supply of coffee for the team, bringing in a refill whenever someone ran dry. He met Chin at the table-top computer in the center of HQ, who'd been painstakingly searching through traffic cameras to locate the mysterious vehicles spotted by Steve's neighbor. Within the first fifteen minutes of arriving at HQ, Chin was able to locate the two SUVs. He followed the vehicles for hours, accessing camera after camera, until they disappeared on the highway. Worst of all, the bastards had removed the license plates.

"Hey."

Danny looked up. Kono stood in the doorway, wearing the same tank-top and jeans from yesterday. She looked exhausted, but still managed a slight lift of her lips. "How are you holding up?"

Danny couldn't even answer. Frissons of worry shook him every time he remembered his children weren't at home, tucked away in their beds. The only thing that could steady his quivery hands was knowing the kids were with Steve. Danny was confident that Steve would do everything in his power to protect Grace and Charlie, but as he pondered more and more, seeds of doubt planted themselves in his head. If Steve was injured, if Steve wasn't compliant—that stubborn son of a bitch hated being told what to do—or if Steve had been separated from the kids, he wouldn't be able to ensure their safety.

And what would these people do when they got what they wanted?

Danny knew the answer, and it made him nauseous.

"Danny?" Kono asked again. She stepped into the room, cautiously. He knew she meant well, but he didn't want to talk about himself.

Danny managed a shake of his head, then stared at the keyboard.

What else was there to do? They had nothing. Kono had spent the night refreshing her computer, watching for updates on the alerts. She called the lab to get progress reports, contacted HPD for information on anything new they may have discovered, and even placed McGarrett on a no-fly list in case someone tried to take him off the island.

A gentle hand fell upon his shoulder. "We're going to find them, Danny. We're lucky the kids are with Steve. He isn't going to let anything happen to them. You know that."

Danny pulled in a long breath and blew it out slowly, attempting to slow his pulse. "It's been ten hours," he said, voice hoarse with emotion. He knew he didn't have to say anything else, because Kono understood the urgency of every passing minute.

Suddenly, the office door flung open.

"Danny," called Chin. "We've got something."

He didn't even remember his feet carrying him to the surface computer. He was vaguely aware of Kono beside him, keeping a light hand on his back in case his shivering knees betrayed him.

Chin tapped away at the computer. "The lab got a hit on the blood," he said, not looking up.

Danny's stomach lurched. "Is—is it...?" He swallowed. "Whose is it?"

"You can relax. It's not Steve or the kids."

Danny nearly collapsed with relief. He gripped the edge of the table as Chin swiped up, bringing up a mugshot of a man—thirty-four years old, dark hair, and a scar cutting across one cheek.

"His name is Travis Ricci," said Chin, crossing his arms over his chest. "Convicted felon, spent eight months in Halawa a few years back for drug possession."

Danny studied the man's rap sheet. Drug possession, assault, a handful of speeding violations. Could any of those charges escalate to kidnapping? He was puzzled. The guy certainly didn't look familiar.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Danny asked to one one in particular.

"Could he be someone McGarrett helped put away?" suggested Lou.

"I definitely don't recognize him," said Chin. "Or the scar."

Kono squinted at the screen. "Look, at the bottom. It says he has ties to the High Aces."

"The High Aces?" Danny echoed. "I thought those punks were more into weapon trafficking, not drugs."

He waited as Chin began a search on other known gang members. Only one man appeared—a thirty-eight-year-old named Jack Warner. The man had spent six years in prison, having been released in 2013. Although he looked like he came from the mainland, there was a local address listed.

"Okay," said Danny, "I don't know what these guys want with Steve, but Travis Ricci left his blood all over the floor, so I'm thinking we need to pay him a visit. Chin, you're with me. Kono, Lou—get over to Warner's place and bring him in."

Chin and Kono nodded in agreement and hurried off to gather their tactical gear. Danny stared to follow, but Lou stopped him.

"You think we ought to call backup?" he asked. "I can get SWAT here in twenty minutes."

"No," said Danny. "I'm not wasting any more time. And if I find the son of a bitch, I don't want any extra witnesses to what I'm going to do to him." He brushed past the former SWAT captain, who followed on his heels. For the first time since the whole ordeal began, Danny felt a flutter of hope.

It felt strange to have Chin riding beside him.

Out of habit, Danny had approached the passenger side of his own vehicle before remembering Steve wasn't there to claim the wheel. As least McGarrett would be proud of his driving; Danny drifted around corners, blew through red lights, and popped curbs to get around the slow morning traffic.

Chin secured the role of navigator, guiding Danny to Travis Ricci's home in Pearl City, while Kono and Lou headed the opposite direction to Manoa, a residential neighborhood housing the last known address of Jack Warner. Although it was only theorized that Warner was involved—he had ties to the gang, after all, and one puny gang banger couldn't best Steve McGarrett—Danny decided a mere theory was good enough to warrant a visit.

Danny needed to be the one to kick in Ricci's door, and Chin was quick to volunteer to be his back-up. DNA proved Ricci had been in Steve's house. He'd bled in Steve's house. Danny had stared at the man's mugshot until the face was branded into his memory forever.

He couldn't get there fast enough. The twenty minute drive to Pearl City took him barely ten, but even that was too long. So much could happen in ten minutes. They'd already wasted the entire night twiddling their thumbs, waiting for a lead or a tip or a hit on the BOLO, but there hadn't been any news, and Danny didn't know what was worse in this situation—hearing something, or hearing nothing at all.

Because something should have happened by now, right? A phone call. A ransom. Some sort of crime or crazy event in the news that Steve was forced to commit at the hands of his captors. The fact that Steve was silent frightened Danny even more. Ten hours was a long time to deal with Steve and two kids. Something must have happened. Something went wrong. Steve refused to do what the men said and got everyone killed. Maybe they tried to escape, and were gunned down before they made it out the door. Maybe the Aces had been after information, Steve had given it to them, and now he and the kids weren't needed anymore—

"Danny!"
Chin's cry lifted Danny from the dark fog that had choked him. In the nick of time, he comprehended that he was about to rear-end a mini van, and yanked the wheel to the left. He felt the back end of the Camaro fishtail and nearly slide into the grassy median. Chin steadied himself with one hand on the dash as a chorus of horns sounded behind them.

Danny cursed. "Do these idiots not know how to pull over? Hello, I have my lights on! Get the hell off the road, soccer mom!"

"Easy, Danny," said Chin, carefully. "We can't get there if we're dead."

Danny gritted his teeth. He merged around a truck and pulled off the highway. Just a few more blocks. "Okay, well, I don't exactly have time to be stuck in traffic right now."

Chin checked the map on his phone. "Next left," he said. He turned back to his friend. "Look, Danny, I know what you're feeling. When Sara was taken, I was out of my mind. In fact, when I ran out of my own birthday party, I couldn't think of anything other than getting on the first plane to Mexico and getting her back. It was pretty reckless, and I would have done it had Steve not followed me and convinced me to stop and take a breath."

Danny's hands, slick with sweat, glided across the wheel as he turned onto the next street. "Look, Chin, you know I love you, buddy, but I really don't think you know how I'm feeling at all." From the corner of his eye, he saw Chin look over at him, eyebrows raised. "I mean, I know you love Sara like your own. I get that, I do. But you need to understand..." He paused, swallowing down a lump of emotion in his throat. "You have to understand... my entire life has been taken from me right now. My kids—my beautiful, innocent kids are gone, and my partner, my best friend..." His voice cracked.

Chin spoke softly, not a hint of hurt or dismay in his voice. "You're right. You have more to lose right now than I ever have." He pointed to the right, and Danny took the final turn onto Ricci's street. "But you're wrong about one thing, Danny. You have me, you have Kono, Lou, and even Jerry. We might not count for much, but we're apart of your life, too. We're ohana."

He tried to nod, tried to say 'I know', or 'thank you', but his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. His throat ached. If he attempted to speak, he was afraid he'd lose it. That couldn't happen. Not now.

"The best thing we can do right now is keep our heads," said Chin. He tucked his phone safely away in his pocket and tugged at the strap of his tac vest, securing it in place. He readied his hand on the door handle, preparing to exit the vehicle as Danny screeched to a stop at the curb.

There was nothing sinister about Ricci's house, nothing to suggest there could be two young kids trapped inside. The neighborhood was upper-middle class, all bi-level homes with green lawns and colorful flowers lining the walkways. It wasn't where he expected to find a gang member with prison time under his belt.

Danny climbed from the car before he'd even pulled the keys from the ignition. His hands shook as he tugged on his tac gloves. He'd need those gloves today if he wanted a solid grip on his gun. There, up those wooden front steps, behind that new white door, he could find his kids. He could find Steve. Would they be tied up, stuffed away in a dark closet or in the garage? Would they be huddled on the living room couch, staring at the barrel of a gun? Or would he walk into a bloody mess, the three people he cared about most in the world lying in pieces on the floor?

Chin said something to him, but Danny's thudding ears only captured muffled cadences of his friend's voice. He went rigid, focused, creeping up the lawn with his gun raised. The curtains were drawn, making it impossible to see into the house. His heart was so high in his chest he could taste it.

He sensed Chin moving behind him. The proper protocol would be to knock, to identify themselves as officers and ask to come inside. Steve, on the other hand, would take full advantage of Five-0's immunity and kick the door in without a second thought.

If Danny was ever going to act like Steve, now was the time.

He tried the door, found it locked, and took a step back. He sucked in a deep breath, focused every ounce of anger, every bit of worry and fear and uncertainty festering in his body, and let it out with one powerful kick.

The door flew open.

Pain reverberated up his leg, but he shook it off. He stormed into the house, crunching over splinters of cracked wood. Danny took a left and headed into the living room, knowing Chin would take the right.

"Five-0!" Danny called, hearing the edge in his own voice. He prayed his choice of forgoing backup wasn't a mistake.

The living room was furnished sparsely. Dust had settled across a glass coffee table. There weren't any pictures on the walls, or any decor aside from empty beer bottles stacked on the end tables. Footsteps behind him made him whip around, but it was only Chin, signaling that he was heading towards the kitchen.

That left Danny with the hall and bedrooms. He moved steadily, his focus an unwavering plane. To the right was the bathroom, which he found clear. There was no water pooled in the bathtub from a morning shower, no left-over soap scum, no toothbrush by the sink. His heart sank.

"Grace?" he called as he entered the bedroom. "Charlie?"

Despite not having fully cleared the room, Danny let his gun fall slowly to his side. He stopped. Listened. Waited to hear the quiet sniffling on his son, or the squeaky sobs his daughter made as she cried. He listened for Steve, expected to hear a groan as he rolled out from some hiding place wondering what the hell took Danny so long.

"The kitchen's clear," informed Chin, appearing from behind. His voice was low, cautious. "It doesn't look like anyone's been home in a while."

Danny noted the unmade bed, the empty closet. Travis Ricci either didn't spend a lot of time in his own home, or was content with minimalism. Judging from the bottles in the living room, he assumed the former.

The trip had been useless. There wasn't a thing inside that suggested Ricci was in possession of McGarrett or the kids. Nothing gave a clue as to why Steve was taken. Any hope Danny had left of finding his kids alive slowly deflated out of him like a balloon. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, poking out the top of his heavy vest, trying to breathe, trying to force oxygen back into his lungs. He placed his gloved hand against the wall to steady himself.

He remembered when Grace had been taken from him the first time, the anger he felt. He was livid, thinking there was no one alive on earth that was more deserving of his hatred than the bastard who'd snatched her. Now, lamenting his daughter, his son, his friend, the anger wasn't as prominent as the fear or the guilt.

Grace had survived a kidnapping once before. Maybe this time she wouldn't be as lucky.

"Danny..." Chin murmured. His voice trailed off, like he wanted to say more, but couldn't offer assurances about something he didn't believe himself.

The buzzing of Danny's cell phone forced some air to catch in his throat. He fumbled in his pocket with shaking fingers and saw Kono's name on the screen.

He answered breathlessly. "Tell me you have something."

"No sign of the kids or Steve at Jack Warner's place," she replied. "But there's something you need to see."

"Uncle Steve, wake up!"

The fierce whisper from Grace ripped Steve away from a nightmare. He shot upright, momentarily disoriented as he struggled to comprehend his surroundings. The restraints on his wrists seemed tighter than ever.

"What?" he asked, matching her whisper. "What is it, sweetie?"

He did a quick visual of the room, finding it still empty, aside from the sickly yellow light. He was painfully reminded of Charlie's absence. How long had Steve been asleep? A couple hours? What had been done to Charlie during that time?

"I hear something," said Grace. She sat rigidly, back against the wall, listening. "Footsteps, I think."

Steve listened, too. His ears rang and popped from sitting up so quickly, and his throat felt like sandpaper. He hoped wherever Charlie was, if he was alive, his captors provided him with water and food.

At least Steve felt more like himself. His head was clearer, though an ache still lingered on his skull. The nausea was gone, as well as the dizziness. He was certain he'd be able to fight when the time presented itself.

Finally, he heard the footsteps. Boots thudded on the linoleum in the kitchen above. He shared a glance with Grace, who was wide-eyed with fear.

The lock on the door rattled. Steve wiped sweat from his face with the crook of his arm and braced himself. As expected, Jack Warner flung the door open.

"Commander McGarrett!" he greeted, cheerfully. "I finally figured out how you can help me!"

Steve didn't like that sound of that. He pressed himself closer to Grace, who kept her head down, trying to remain unnoticed.

"Great," said Steve. "Tell me what it is so we can get this over with."

Warner smiled, a big, toothy grin. "Hang on, hang on. There's something you need to know first."

"I'm listening."

Warner paced the floor in front of him. "Your boy? The one who was crying?"

Steve's heart skipped a beat. "Charlie."

"Yeah, Charlie. We have him, and he's fine. He'll stay that way as long as you cooperate and do everything as instructed. If you try anything, he will be harmed. Do you understand?"

Grace whimpered.

The way Warner spoke made the hairs on Steve's arms stand up straight. His threatening demeanor from earlier was gone, replaced with what sounded like a father chiding his son. Warner was perhaps more dangerous and unpredictable than Steve thought.

"I understand, Jack," said Steve, keeping his tone firm. "Now tell me your plan."

Warner smiled again, pleased with himself. He approached Steve and knelt before him. He pulled a switchblade from his pocket and snapped it open, the click making Grace jump.

Steve stiffened, ready to knock the knife from his hands. To his surprise, Jack took a hold of Steve's arm and cut the zip-ties away. His wrists tingled as blood rushed back to them.

"The girl stays here," said Warner, "but you're coming with me."

Steve didn't move. "Where?"

Warner folded the knife and put it away. He stood, motioning Steve to follow. "You're going to bring Samuel Ulani to me."

Steve looked to Grace, dreading leaving her alone. She was strong, she would be okay by herself, but what if one of the other men came downstairs? What would they do to her?

He didn't have a choice. He'd have to listen to everything Warner said, follow his every order if he wanted to keep the kids safe. There was just one problem, one thing that made Steve doubt whatever plan Warner conspired would go smoothly.

Samuel Ulani was in prison.