The cell tower. Wednesday: time unknown.

Danny was very sore. Sore from his head to his toes. Getting thrown around a van will do that to you. Still, he was alone for the time being, which was heartening.

After Steve, Ivanov, and his merry band of miscreants coerced Danny into the building at the base of the cell tower, a few men roughly dragged him to a chair in a back room, sat him down with his hands bound behind him, and simply left him to his own devices.

Besides fiddling incessantly with the ropes, hoping to wriggle free, Danny spent his alone time watching through the open doorway into the main room, as his partner beat the shit out of the Langley agent. Okay, so Steve really just whispered to the guy, hit him once and shouted at him, but still¸ McGarrett was admittedly frightening, so it was the equivalent of a beating from any normal human being. In any case, Kahale turned to the computer, and seemingly began to do exactly what Five-0 had spent the lest days trying so hard to prevent.

Danny was annoyed. Trust Steve to charge in, blab a little Russian, and suddenly the whole damn operation was blow to shit.

Of course, the bombs were disabled. But still. It was very irritating.

Danny watched as Ivanov, who looked more and more gleeful, put a phone to his ear and listened intently. He nodded- as though the other goddamn guy could see that- and then his eyes widened. he began speaking very rapidly in Russian to the other line, clearly making orders, before he snapped the phone shut.

He and Steve spoke for a moment or two. Ivanov made a few steps toward the room where Danny sat, but Steve called out, and he stopped. Danny wished he knew what the hell they were saying to each other; it was like trying to watch a Spanish soap opera what with the rapidity and hint of melodrama in the room. It made it difficult to assess the situation.

And then Steve was walking toward him. His partner did not look directly at him, which was also quite annoying because it meant Danny couldn't read the guy. Steve entered the room, closed the heavy metal door, and approached his partner.

Danny took a big risk, opened his mouth, and said, "Howdy, partner."

Steve sank down next to his partner's chair, under the pretence of whispering nasty threats should anyone come in, and looked at the bound man. Steve had a very guilty look in his eye, and Danny felt less irritated at him; he would blame himself enough for the both of them.

"Danny." It was hardly a reply, but he could tell Steve really didn't have time for preamble. He got serious.

"What's the situation?"

Steve's eyes were tired, and his face slightly gaunt. "The plane is on its way in. Ivanov just got a call from someone inside who told him HPD is assembling a strike team. They have someone inside Danny." He looked even more tired for a second. Danny cringed. There was a mole, someone working the operation who was working with the Russians. It made him want to hit something. "They're moving the landing sight, Danny; there's not going to be a plane when HPD arrives. They're rigging the place to blow. And, damnit all, I'm supposed to ask you how they knew that the plane was coming."

Steve said most of this with an apathetic tone- as though he was trying to detach himself from the situation- and yet it made Danny fill up with dread all the more. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

"Listen Danny," Steve spoke very quickly now, "If Petrov gets back to Russia with Ivanov, then the whole damn government could crumble. We're talking civil war and American involvement. When they get back here with Petrov and HPD finds out, they'll com in guns blazing, no questions asked."

Danny understood what he was implying. He didn't like it one bit, but he had long ago accepted death as a possible means of retirement. He took a deep, shaky breath.

And then Steve did something weird. He stood up, moved behind Danny, and began to work with the ropes. Danny could feel them loosen just enough that he could slip his hands through, but not enough that anyone would notice.

"What the hell are you doing, Steve?" He whispered. Steve came back around to face him.

"Look, Danny, now that they know Ivanov means business, they won't hesitate to come in hot. I wouldn't be surprised if Admiral Goodich orders the whole goddamn place to blow up. Once Petrov arrives- and he will, Danny; Ivanov will get the guy in here- they'll put a bullet in your head to keep you from saying anything. When the time is right, run like hell and don't look back."

Before Danny could utter a single counterargument to his stupid, self- sacrificing maniac Steve stood up, moved to where he was standing in front of Danny, and struck him, hard, across the face.

Danny reeled back, dazed. Damn that guy could throw a punch.

The reason for Steve's sudden display of violence was explained when the door flew open, and Ivanov stepped inside. Through pain filled eyes, Danny saw Steve look down at him with immeasurable self- hate in his eyes. Danny almost laughed; he actually felt sorry for Steve! Steve, who clocked him in the face!

Ivanov and Steve spoke for a minute, before Ivanov leaned down and looked Danny in the eye. Danny looked back defiantly.

"So," he began in English, "you do not vish to tell my friend how your police knew vhere to find Anton Petrov?"

"Nah," said Danny causally, determined to push a few buttons, "I thought it'd be more fun to watch you sweat a little."

Ivanov struck Danny in the head. He felt his brow split open and blood trickle down his face.

"It von't matter anymore," the man said nastily, "Petrov has arrived at a new location, and your men vill find nothing but their deaths."

Ivanov stood, pushed nonexistent dust from his shoulder, and swept out of the room. Steve gave his partner one last guilt ridden glance before following.

Danny saw why they left; the door at the front of the building opened, and a well dressed, elderly man stepped in, flanked by more than a few faceless bodyguards. He was regal looking, with perfect silver hair and a distinctly aloof expression. Ivanov seemed to deflate and become meek around this new arrival. Danny knew without a doubt that it was the man of the hour: Anton Petrov.

It was odd; more time must have passed than he thought because it seemed like minutes since they'd dragged him into that goddamn building. It had to have been more than minutes.

Shaking off his strange time warp, Danny began to very closely observe the situation, despite the pain in his head and groggy mind.

All of Ivanov's men were distracted. So was Ivanov. Petrov seemed to have people gravitate towards him; all eyes were on the venerable man. In all fairness, he did exude an era of strength. that was what probably made him such a charismatic leader and such a dangerous man.

Nobody was watching him. And then, so quickly Danny would have missed it if he'd blinked, Steve turned to look at him. There was no head movements, no wink, only a single, very meaningful look.

Danny knew. It was time.

He wiggled his hands, and felt the bonds grow looser and slip off. And then he was free. Watching to make sure nobody looked back, he stood up, edge along the wall, pushed the side door open and slipped into the bright sunlight.

It was just so easy. A few steps, the push of a door an d BAM, he was out in the open air again. Granted, his head was reeling and he stumbled a bit as he ran toward the dirt road that led back to the main street and by extension the ridge with the van, but still it was disconcertingly simple to escape. Almost as if they didn't really care about him.

Almost as if they knew that Steve was the more valuable target.

Like they would have if there happened to be a double agent in the mission.

Danny ran faster.

The air strip. Wednesday: time unknown

Chin and Kono were taking heavy fire. From all sides.

They'd arrived to meet Petrov's plane a few minutes before, only to find the airfield empty. Lifeless. Kono had exactly enough time to think oh shit before bullets rained down. She and Chin dove to one side as Speers and Franco took the other. The HPD officers scattered. Like it was from ghosts, gunfire assaulted them from every possible nook and cranny in the deserted airfield- from behind tractors and old buildings and even mounds of dirt. Kono saw an officer take a bullet straight to the skull. He went down without so much as a gurgle.

"We've been made," Chin hissed. "How the hell did they know we were going here?"

Kono didn't have an answer.

Speers stood up, hit two assailants in the head, and popped a third in the chest before being forced to duck once more behind the crates where they had all taken refuge. Kono had to admit, having a weapons expert Navy SEAL on her side was not a bad thing.

Franco looked over. "We haven't heard from Pinks or Danny. We need to get the hell out of here and get up to their van. We have no idea what's going on at Ivanov's location, but I think at this point we can safely say that Petrov will be with them."

Kono wholeheartedly agreed. They continued to exchange gunfire with the Russians. Kono hit one man in the leg, and popped him again as he went down. It was clear they were thinning the herd; more than twelve men had begun the assault against Five-0 and HPD (And the SEALs) and now Kono counted only a couple left.

Franco let out a strangled cry and went down, slumping to the ground behind the crate and clutching at his shoulder.

Chin stood, fired off two shots with his powerful gun, and then sank back down.

Silence.

Checking to see if it was over, Kono stood up slightly and peered over the ledge. Nothing.

She hurried over to Franco, and knelt down next to him. Speers was already putting pressure on the wound. Chin materialized beside her and wordlessly handed over gauze. Where he had gotten gauze was a mystery.

The HPD officers that had arrived with them were meticulously clearing the scene, leaving Kono and Chin to hover over Franco as Speers bandaged him up as best he could.

"I'm fine," the man breathed, pushing Speers away. Kono felt an odd sense of nostalgia at that; it sounded very much like something Steve would say. She guesses that it was a requirement to be a SEAL.

"Like hell you are," Speers replied. "You look worse than McGarrett did after that mission in Qatar."

"What happened in Qatar?" Kono asked, curious. She was surprised by, even after working with Steve for as long as she had, she hardly knew the man.

Speers looked sideways at her. "It's a long story," he said unhelpfully, "but if you get a chance, ask the Commander why he sets off metal detectors in the airport. Give him a few shots first, though." He paused. "But not of tequila."

"Another long story?"

"Part of the first one, actually."

Franco, with the help of Speers, stood up. Together they made their way to the red Chevy. Kono got in the front, Chin at her side, and the two SEALs took residence in the back. She gunned it, peeling out of the airfield, leaving HPD in the dust behind her.

They raced toward the road that led up to the ridge where Danny and Pinks were supposed to be doing surveillance. Kono took the winding lane as fast as she could, screeching to a halt beside the van.

She and Chin exited quickly and concisely, guns drawn. Speers did the same, leaving Franco in the car. He was in pieces after all.

They rounded the corner of the vehicle, and Kono's heart sank. A man lay dead on the ground. She hated herself, but she was relieved that it wasn't Danny.

Speers was less so. He dropped to the ground next to the fallen soldier. The man remained stoic, but his hand clenched so tight Kono thought it might burst.

"I'm so sorry Brah," Chin placed his hand on Speer's shoulder. He nodded, but said nothing.

The sound of footsteps alerted the trio. They rose, guns raised, and whipped around. They needn't have worried.

"Danny…" Kono breathed. Danny just looked at her, breathed a sigh of relief, and swayed dangerously. Chin caught him before he could fall all the way, and lowered the man to the ground so that he sat with his back against the van. Kono noticed a nasty looking cut on his brow and a bruise on his cheek.

"Danny! What happened?"

Danny looked up at her, and Kono could see the relief seep off of him.

"I'm so glad you're here…" He said.

"Yeah, us too. What happened?" She was more forceful.

"We were ambushed. Someone knew about the surveillance. They took Pinks down. Tied me up, put me in a van. Ended up at the docks. McGarrett was there with Ivanov. We went to the cell tower, and they hacked the signal. Petrov came…" Danny seemed to be remembering something.

"It was so easy to get out. Steve loosened the bonds, and I just got up and walked out… shit!"

"What?"

"There's a mole. A mole in the operation. Someone knows… that's how Petrov got there. And why they didn't much care if I left. They knew that Volkoff was Steve McGarrett."

Kono was royally confused. Who the hell was Volkoff?

Danny made eye contact with Speers. "He was working the other side, then?" Speers nodded. It all made sense; Steve was working the other side. Steve was Volkoff. And he had been compromised. That wasn't good.

Danny made to stand up. Chin tried to push him back down, but he swatted the arm away. "I'm fine."

"You sound like Steve."

"Except that I'm really fine."

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Four."

"… okay, fine. You're fine."

"Thank you."

Chin eased Danny off the ground.

"Kono." She looked up. "Call Governor Jameson, have her get a task force up here ASAP." Danny paused. "We're going in McGarrett style."

"What?" Chin asked, "You mean us, whatever we can use with you, and one and a half SEALs against the entire Russian gang?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Just checking to see how close to McGarrett crazy we were getting."

"Close."

They made their way back to the car, but not before Speers placed a hand on Pinks' chest and whispered, "have peace, brother."

Kono placed a hand on his shoulder.

Without any further delay, they peeled back out onto the road and toward McGarrett.

The cell tower, Wednesday: time unknown

He'd been compromised. There was no doubt about it. The mole in the mission had thoroughly done his homework.

The second he'd made eye contact with Danny, he was sure the other man had snuck out. Petrov continued to hold the attention of all of the men present, and so Steve risked a glance over to the room. Danny was gone. Steve felt a sort of weak relief; Danno was lucky.

Too lucky.

It shouldn't have been so easy. Someone should have been watching. That was when he'd guessed he'd been compromised. He didn't really have time to dwell on that though.

A gun was placed, ever so gently, against the back of his head.

He stilled. When Ivanov spoke, it was surprisingly still in Russian.

"How long do you think you could have kept up your little act, Commander?" Steve could hear the sneer in his voice.

"Clearly it was long enough, Ivanov," he replied in kind.

Steve was, of course, referring to how well he was infiltrated the gang in so little time.

"It took me a few well chosen words to get you to trust me, Ivanov. I became a part of your operation with a couple of charismatic fucking words."

Ivanov took his free hand to Steve's stomach. And then did it again for good measure. Steve doubled over, coughing up blood. It wouldn't have been so damaging, if the bastard wasn't wearing brass knuckles. How the hell did he get those? Steve didn't have time to think about it.

Ivanov shoved the gun into Steve's temple angrily. Steve looked at him, not once breaking eye contact.

"Just who is your guy, Ivanov? The one in the department?"

Ivanov let out a barking laugh. "It's a good thing I'm going to take your life, Commander, because otherwise I'd never be able to tell you." He leaned in to whisper in Steve's ear, "I am going to love watching to crumble before I end you." He paused, and then plundered on. "We've had your man Davis in our payroll for months."

Steve froze. No! Not again! Not AGAIN! Twice. Twice he had been betrayed by greedy SEALs with fiscal agendas. Maybe he should pursue acting; at least the chance of betrayal ending in murder was significantly less in that profession.

He looked defiantly to Ivanov, and spat at him. He hissed like an angry cat, and struck Steve across the face with the butt of the gun. Steve rolled with the punch. It was nothing more than payback for what he'd done to Danny.

"I'm going to kill you."

Steve had no doubt that the words were true. Still, he had few regrets, and if he was going to die in the line of duty, he was glad that it was at him and not it the middle of nowhere.

"I'm sure you will, Ivanov," he said, and turned slowly to face the man so that the gun rested on his forehead, "but the question is, will you do it and still get to fly off this island? I think not."

Before the man could come up with an intelligible response, there was commotion. The sounds of several people yelling Five-0 and U.S. Navy at the same time was heartening.

But it didn't exactly let Steve off the hook. Ivanov put the gun to his chest, and forced him to move into the back room and out the side door that Danny had used to escape not long ago.

The sun was bright, and it stung a little. Ivanov continued to push him until they stood in a field next to the building. The commotion inside quieted until just Steve and his adversary existed in this lonely foliage. Ivanov shoved him so that he stood a few feet from the gun pointed at his chest.

"Kneel."

"No."

"Kneel!" Ivanov cried. "Kneel and I will make your death a painless one, Commander."

"I will die standing, Ivanov, like a man. Like you will never know."

Ivanov screamed in rage. "FINE!" he cried, spittle flying from his mouth, "Then I'll put a bullet in your chest and smile as you bleed out at my feet."

Steve looked defiantly at the Russian, his stance foreboding, his eyes alert. It was strange that, this close to his death, everything seemed so much more lively. The grass danced beneath his feet, and the breeze caressed his face. He longed to close his eyes and appreciate every sense and smell in full, but knew that he could not.

All sound faded out, apart from his own breathing. Even as Ivanov formed words, he only heard silence.

Even as he felt a bullet rip into his chest, he heard only silence.

And when Ivanov, with surprise etched into his aging face, slumped to the ground to reveal Danny standing behind him with a raised gun, he still heard nothing.

Finally, like vacuum forcing all air and sound and life back onto him, the sound came rushing back like a tidal wave of confused ruckus.

He heard yelling. And banging. And perhaps his name, too.

He looked at Danny before looking down at his chest, to where a growing pool of red stained his shirt, just below his heart.

The ground rushed up to gracefully embrace his falling form before he could do anything else.