Our Devoured Minds Part 5/8
Author: Tari_Roo
Rating: PG (Gen)
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Steve would be bare-chested even more than he is, we would actually 'see' Danny trying to surf and Kono would be a secret Cylon. That is all. Wait… Chin would be as awesome as he is.
Summary: Everyone says it's the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny.
Spoilers: Set in Season 1. No spoilers, but you kinda have to know the show, ok?
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Danny waited.
He waited because it was the only frigging thing he could do. He couldn't even damn well whistle Dixie.
Dixie might not have been his first choice of jaunty tunes to whistle, but the expression wasn't 'whistle Frank Sinatra.' It should be whistle ol' Frank, because Dixie? So last century. And well, Danny didn't know Dixie.
Something moved and Danny froze, ears straining.
The sound came again, it sounded like shuffling, pained shuffling. Slowly, Danny turned towards the sound, and it broke off.
"Shit."
It was more a gasp, less an exclamation. But it was a female voice, definitely not a little girl. A woman.
The large piece of Danny's heart that had been pounding in desperate worry for Grace settled back into a relieved, normal pace. The rest of him that was a mix of curious, hopeful and wary remained still. The footsteps resumed, soft, tentative, now accompanied by little gasps of pain but steadily getting louder, closer.
The hairs on Danny's arm rose as he felt someone brush his skin, and a cold, clammy hand clutched his arm.
"You look, sorry, you look terrible."
Her voice was close, near his ear like her face was right next to his. Her breath tickled the unshaven skin on his jaw line, raising more hairs on his arms. Not wanting to head butt her accidently and knock out his one chance at getting lose, Danny mumbled "No shit, Sherlock."
Fortunately, Sherlock couldn't decipher mumbling through a gag, as she groaned and fumbled at the ties cutting into his wrists, the plastic tight on the metal legs of the chair. "Plastic, huh? Good thing I ..."
Danny hoped the good thing was a real good thing and not a pretend good thing, and as he felt her start to saw through the tie, he bumped it up to 'excellent thing'. Whatever she was using was sharp, and her hands weren't too steady. The edge of the blade or whatever kept nicking his wrists and she kept mumbling apologies. Danny though, didn't care. 'Saw, Baby, saw!'
As good as the 'whatever' was in slicing his skin, it seemed to be taking ages to cut the plastic. Eventually the tie snapped and a rush of blood flooded into his wrist and hand. The flood of blood included a surge of pins and needles, nerves waking up, and screaming.
The woman moved to his right wrist, running a shaky hand over his bare shoulders, touching briefly the long cuts there. Danny muffled his own groan, and tried to move his arm, clenching his fist. It felt weird, his arm, almost like it wasn't his own with all the pins and needles, but Danny pushed through. He went for the blindfold first, suddenly desperate to 'see'.
Fumbling, thick fingers struggling to obey, Danny pulled at the material, fought the knot and pulled it off. Blinking, the room swam into view. It wasn't brightly lit, a stuffy, dim industrial type space with no interior light. Slowly, Danny tugged on the duct tape over his mouth and firmly pulled it off, and spat out the wad of cloth. Gagging a little, Danny coughed and looked down at his rescuer.
Dirty blonde hair pulled up in a rat's nest was all Danny could see – that and a dirty white top. She was doing a quicker job on this wrist, but it was still taking...
"There done!"
The lady stood up fast and shot him a bright grin, before staggering backwards, her hand clutching her head. "Whoa, too fast, too fast." Upright and staggering, she was the most beautiful thing Danny had ever seen. Make up smudged and smeared, too thick, too much. Bottle blonde. Short, very short, white going dirty brown dress. No shoes. Smeared, messed, bloody mouth and tear marks etched in mascara. Hell Steve dressed in drag right now would look hot, because ... ok, not Steve. But hello Freedom!
"Hey," she smiled and Danny grinned back. "Hey."
It was the adrenalin, the roar of relief, of hope that brought that giddy smile. Danny stared at her for a moment, brain ticking over in silence. The woman shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. "Can we... you know, go?"
Reality snapped back into focus and Danny nodded. "Yeah, ah, feet?" They both looked down at his feet, still tied to the chair's front legs. The lady knelt, fingering something small and swallowed. "Your feet are very swollen."
Danny nodded slowly in return. He'd stopped feeling them a while ago. They were red and thick, like lobsters ready to be boiled. "The, the... your wrists were bad, but... I... it'll still hurt." She held up her blade, a bottle cap. It was flattened, the edge probably sharpened on the floor, but it was still a bottle cap. From a beer bottle. El Sol.
"You used that?"
She nodded, her smile suddenly bright again, pleased with herself. Her smile didn't reach her eyes, one eye purpling with a massive bruise on her cheek. "Yep. Freed myself. He left the bottle on the table, but the cap was on the floor. I remembered an episode of MacGyver..."
Danny rolled his eyes, but grinned. "Nothing else around once you got free?"
"Nope," she shook her head. "He cleared out completely – took all the stuff. Laptop, bags, everything."
It was a splinter in his eye, a scratch that wouldn't be ignored and Danny had to ask, just in case. "And there was no one else... in the room. With you?"
She met his gaze, at first confused and then understanding bloomed. Her face fell and Danny's heart plummeted instantly, but she quickly said, "Just me. I promise. Just me." Her voice grew hard and pained on the last 'me'. A fresh surge of relief battered Danny's exhausted reserves. No Grace. Never Grace. Grace was fine. Grace was safe.
Please.
"Let's get out of here, ok?" she smiled and bent down to start cutting the ties on his feet. Danny nodded slowly, still swarmed with thoughts of Grace, and then once again reality crashed in around him as the bottle cap's edge cut his foot.
"Sorry," she sighed at his hiss. Her hands were shaking too much that was the problem, her smile false and pretend, the facade easy to pull into place but no less real. And her hands betrayed her. Danny's were no better, but after one too many cuts, he took the cap from her and finished sawing through the ties. Self-inflicted pain was something with which he was all too familiar.
Gently, Danny pressed the bottle cap back into her hand and said, "Souvenir for you. And thanks."
She closed her hand around the cap, eyes wide and nodded shallowly, bloody mouth open. Danny though kept a hold on her hand and said, "Who are you?"
Not even trying to take her hand away, she sighed, "Pandora to my friends. Candice to my real friends."
"Hooker." Danny didn't ask, already knew and Candice nodded. "I work the Hiltons and the Halekulani. Friday night, last night, I got a call from a john I picked up last week. He... wanted to go somewhere near a beach, and I ... ended up here."
Here. Being beaten. Maybe worse. All so that Danny would think they, he, had Grace. Because they, he, didn't. Danny stared at Candice's bruised face, her too wide eyes and strange mouth and felt a twist of guilt that he was glad she had been there, and not Grace. The SOB's plan to get Grace had failed, but he already had a back-up on hand, someone who might not be missed.
"Sorry," Danny mumbled but Candice shook her head. "Not your fault..." She trailed off as she thought it through, and sighed, "Guess it is, sorta. Sorry."
They might have stayed there forever, frozen on the brink of escape, caught in the amber of a stolen moment, two people emerging from a hellish experience. Danny eventually blinked, the colors of the sunlight through the cracked roof bleeding into the dark. "Come on, let's blow this popsicle stand." Candice nodded, and tightened her grip on his hand.
Standing was easier said than done. His arms had been bad, but the paralysis of pins and needles in his legs was shocking. Luckily Candice was ready to steady him, catching and stopping Danny's lilt to one side that might have ended in a face plant. "Shit," Danny growled, struggling to take a step. The cement floor was cool and wet or maybe it was just his feet. "Take it slow..." Candice suggested.
Danny shook his head, "No, gotta move. Just in case..."
Just in case the bastard was on his way back, or something. But now that he was up right and moving, Danny wanted out of this foul, stuffy, gloomy room that stank of his blood, and fear. It wasn't the most dignified shuffle he'd ever produced, and he might have leant on Candice more than she did on him, but together they made their way towards the slightly ajar door.
Sunlight streamed in from outside, a ray of freedom, a bright white sword slicing through their prison, a promise of life.
Candice pushed on the hot metal door, and it moved imperceptibly until she gave it another good shove. Danny hung on her shoulder, watching her try, hoping he didn't have to help. Right now flipping someone the bird would be impossible, unless they really really deserved it. "Son of a..." Candice halfheartedly kicked at the stubborn door, nearly toppling them both over, and it slid to one side just enough for them to edge out.
Outside, the sun was white bright, directly overhead and cheerfully ignorant of the dark room they'd left. The immediate area was all warehouse space, uniform buildings running up and down, numbers in paint marking the only uniqueness to be found. "Harbor?" Danny guessed, and Candice nodded. "Yeah, guess so. Right direction, at least from what I remember. Last night is kinda... blurry."
Danny tried to figure out which way was makai and which was makau. He pointed left, and muttered uncertainly, "Ocean?" Candice squinted and nodded. The Port Authority office would be towards town and therefore makau. Right it was. As he turned to the right, head down, eyes still struggling with the bright sun, he noticed Candice's feet. And remembered her painful walk towards him. Her feet looked bloody, cut up.
She noticed his gaze and swallowed audibly, her face paling, so white she looked ready to pass out. "Ah, he... he was a sick bastard. Liked ... liked his razor."
Danny didn't want to know, and well, shit, had intimate experience with that razor. "I know. You ok to walk?"
Candice's expression hardened, but her lips trembled with suppressed emotion. "Over broken glass if I have to."
But for both of them, bravado and determination only got them so far and their painful co-supportive shuffle towards help slowed to a snail's pace after only a few feet. Danny's legs weren't the problem, but his feet were still not his own, and kept threatening to give out on him. It was his chest and arms that were the real issue. Breathing hurt and being in pain and trying to push through made you take deeper breaths, so it hurt more. The cuts on his arms and shoulders didn't hurt until he moved them, or Candice bumped them. Alas, every step involved some sort of 'bumping' as Candice tried to walk on cut up feet.
She was getting paler by the second, the bruises darkening to black shadows bleeding into her mascara. Normally right about now, Danny would be lifting her spirits with some upbeat quips, but the words were lost in the haze of his own pain. And his thoughts kept on running back to Grace, even though he knew – knew – she must be safe. But until he saw her, felt her in his arms, the specter of her tiny, bruised face, and sliced little feet gnawed at his belly.
"I, I... I gotta stop, dude."
Candice was stopping alright and pulling him down along with her. Danny managed to control their fall enough that they ended up on some ancient looking crates rather than on the ground. Candice groaned, and collapsed forward over her legs, hands clutched in her hair. "Shit, that hurts. Sorry, I know you..."
She paused and looked up at him, face creased in bemusement. Danny was resting against the wall, trying to pretend the thought of getting up didn't fill him with horror. He quirked an eyebrow at her half smile, more twisted lips than a smile. "I don't even know your name. I heard him call you William, or maybe Dick?"
"Danny Williams. Cop." Danny didn't know why he added the cop status, only he felt she should know. For some reason. Initially Candice's eyes grew huge, fearful and then she relaxed. "Not Vice, I know all the Vice guys."
"Five-0."
"The super-cops? Really?" Her expression was both impressed and sarcastic, a 'seriously!' contained somewhere in there. Not offended in the slightest, Danny went for a sheepish grin rather than a shrug. His face hurt, one too many blows to the head, but it hurt less than everything else.
"No way," Candice sighed, leaning back next to him. "It's like meeting an actual almost celebrity. I saw the back of Burt Reynolds's head once, you know."
"Cool," Danny huffed, trying to find a position that didn't hurt his ribs, pull on the cuts, or just plain suck. It didn't exist. The noon sun blazed overhead. Another day in paradise. Sun, sand and sea. Just don't forget the humidity, sand fleas, constant rain and oh – volcano!
"Where are you from?" Danny groaned, croaking over his thirst and thinking of the cold beer in his office fridge at HQ.
"Baltimore. You?"
"New Jersey."
Sitting there together, side by side, arms touching, fresh blood drying, Danny felt a wave of exhaustion drown the surge of energy escape had launched. Candice's breathing was evening out, and a thought flitted across Danny's brain about getting up before unconsciousness claimed them both. They were probably suffering from a combination of shock and blood loss. Both dangerous. Deadly.
"Come on, we need to get going."
Candice's eyes opened, flat with exhaustion but she nodded. On a different day, with someone else, their struggle to stand might have been amusing, a comedy of movement. But not today, and not after last night.
"You know, I don't think I'm going to get very far, Danny. My feet...," Candice was trying not to squeeze his arm too hard, as she settled it over her shoulder.
Danny was watching the fresh trickle of blood run down his side as another cut opened up. "Oh, don't worry. Any second now I fully expect a full throttle Navy Seal to come charging around the corner hell bent on rescue. And when he does, I am going to punch him in the kisser for being late."
Candice started to smile, a half laugh born of exhaustion and overstimulation when pounding feet and shouts filled the air. They both turned, eyes seeking out this new development, Danny reaching for a non-existent gun.
Down the causeway, back towards the sea and the harbor mouth, a pair of uniformed HPD Officers ran around the corner, their guns sweeping towards Danny and Candice. "Detective Williams?" one of them called, running towards them. Danny vaguely recognized him, a beat cop, Officer Mani.
"Thank goodness," Danny sighed and Candice smiled in genuine relief. "Never thought I'd be glad to see cops."
Danny didn't answer; his legs suddenly decided that since help was now here, even if it wasn't in the form of an irate Navy Seal, they were done for the day, thank you very much. He sat down abruptly, pulling Candice down so unexpectedly she let out a strange little squawk. "Sorry," Danny mumbled, a wash of darkness lapping at the edges of his vision, a wave of heat reddening his cheeks.
"Williams?"
Office Mani was suddenly 'there', his face way too close to Danny's, brown eyes wide. Steady fingers pressed themselves into Danny's neck, checking his pulse, trying not to touch the bruises there, or the small cuts. "Harry, call in the bus, now. We need a paramedic, asap."
Harry was checking over Candice, and Danny caught the nod, and heard the other officer snap into his shoulder radio. Looking into Mani's eyes, Danny croaked; throat strangely dry and tight, "My..."
Officer Mani though smiled more teeth than humor, "We've been combing the island for you, sir. Glad we found you. Was getting a little worried. Any idea who took you? Where they are?"
A steady, rising beat was throbbing inside Danny's head, the heat and darkness rising, Office Mani fading in and out. "Sir? Sir?"
Danny clutched Mani's arm, squeezing tight, hard, and desperate. He couldn't pass out, not without knowing, not with that sword returning, the darkness returning, the not knowing, the pain, the heat, the dark. "... daughter..."
Vaguely Danny imagined the words, "...get McGarrett. Ambulance."
Was Steve hurt? Typical. Glory hog. Couldn't leave the doofus alone for two seconds.
Sounds hurt, the heat was abruptly gone, ice filling his veins, the sun light flickering in and out like a dying fluorescent light. Staccato running feet, dull and sporadic. Someone yelling his name. Bile rising in his mouth. Danny clung to the shoulders in front of him, anchoring him to the here and now, wings of darkness obscuring everything else.
"Danny."
Steve.
Danny opened his eyes.
Steve was right there. Right frigging there. The swell of emotion rose to a tsunami of overwhelming desperation, tears pricking his eyes. Danny squeezed Steve's forearms, trying to will him to understand. Those damn eyes were boring right through Danny, looking straight into every damn terror filled moment.
"Grace?"
Like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, illuminating, chasing away the shades of fear, Steve smiled, "She's fine, Danny. At HQ. With Kono." The strings holding Danny's spine straight released, tension flooding out of him and he sighed. Resting his head against a forehead he knew would be there, taking a deep breath and smelling that odd combination of aftershave and gun oil that was Steve, Danny sighed.
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As Steve climbed out of the SUV, Chin slamming the passenger side door, a wave of heat greeted them both. Noon day sun, reflected heat from the concrete underfoot, metal and cement warehouses adding their own reflected heat made for a warm welcome.
HPD squad cars pulled in around them, Officers sprawling out like a determined army clad in black. "Spread out. Take your assigned piers. Double check everything. Now!"
Like the well trained people they were, the HPD search teams fanned out, all with one purpose in mind. Find Danny.
Chin and Steve had Pier 20, with four other HPD officers. Steve was running before he thought to make sure everyone was following. One quick glance assured him they were. The warehouses weren't entirely uniform, but similar enough that it felt mazelike, nightmarish running down and through causeways that looked so uniform.
Any door that looked open, anything they could search instantly, they did. Chin kept a running monologue with Kono on his headset, pushing for manifest and allotment information. They needed to narrow the search area. Steve was in the focused mode of an op, alert for all movement, tracking his 'team', primed for action and need to respond to hostiles. The chatter on the radio was minimal, and mostly negative. Nothing there. Nothing here. No sight. No sign. No luck. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
"We got him!"
Steve paused only long enough to hear "Pier 22. Warehouse 4" before about turning and powering his legs in that direction. Chin was hard on his heels, calling for an ambulance and then confirming it was already on its way.
Running was easy. What was waiting for him was hard. The gun felt right in his hand. The absence of Danny running alongside him was wrong. Chatter in his ears. Ok. The comfort of knowing his friend was ok. Unknown. No matter how fast Steve ran, it took years to reach Pier 22. Scanning the numbers on the walls, Steve headed left, Chin not stopping at all as they turned.
The sun was so bright, McGarrett nearly missed them, four, five people off in the distance. Outside in the open.
Instinctively scanning the gaps between the buildings, the roof and skyline, Steve ran towards them, his heart pounding harder and harder with each step, each meter. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair, slicked back, head bent forward.
The HPD officers parted for him like waves before the prow of a ship, and Steve sank to his knees in front of Danny. "Where's the ambulance? Get it here, now."
McGarrett had no idea what to do. Where to touch Danny. His stomach roiled, churning unpleasantly, mouth dry, heart thudding. Danny looked up, blood shot eyes, bruises stark and deep, desperation and fear dilating his pupils, probably shock, and blood loss and...
Strong hands wrapped themselves around his forearms, thumbs pressing hard into the soft skin. Blue eyes scanning his face, eyes that were too wet, too shiny. Eyelashes clumped together. "Grace?"
"She's fine, Danny. At HQ. With Kono."
McGarrett poured as much reassurance into his voice as he could. Willed Danny to believe him.
Danny's sigh was the collapse of a building, the release of chains and ropes, the fall into clear blue sky from an airplane, parachute opening behind you. "Thank God."
Forehead to forehead, Steve closed his eyes for a moment and let that shared warmth of relief curl around them and settle his stomach, soothe his nerves, unbristle his hackles. Chin was shouting, a distant voice miles away, demanding the paramedics hurry up, talking to Kono. Steve opened his mouth, to say ... he had no idea what. Danny growled, his eyes closed, tight. "The bastard is on the way to my house. After a journal."
Blue eyes, the banked fires of retribution held at bay by exhaustion tore through Steve. The shark smile was sharp and instant. "I'll get him."
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To be continued in part 6
AN: Thank you for your patience. I will be posting the next chapters quicker. The ones with the comfort. *cracks fingers and knuckles* Time to get my comfort cap on. *winks* Hope this chapter was worth the wait.