Mirror
Chapter Five

"We had a plan to build a wall...
...and brick by brick, we built it so thick
that it blacked out the sky and all the sunlight."
-Thousand Foot Krutch

Kono's fingers were cold and still in Danny's hand. His fingers lightly coiled around her wrist, he kept his fingertips on the pulse point there, keeping track of a thankfully steady pulse. The hit she had taken on the head had knocked her out cold; she had barely stirred as they had been forced into a van. (Well, she had been roughly carried and he'd followed behind, unwilling to put up too much of a fuss while Kono was in such a vulnerable position.) The ride had seemed to take forever and a day and Kono had remained unconscious through it all. Danny hadn't been surprised, considering how had a hit she had taken, but it did worry him.

They were in a basement now – somewhere Danny wasn't sure at all; he hadn't been able to keep track of much while at gunpoint in the back of a windowless van. Steve probably would have done some freaky GPS-thing in his head, which had always kind of impressed Danny a little when he managed something like that, but Danny wasn't that good. He was good, sure. Great at what he did. Just not at calculating direction and distance without looking.

Danny had taken his own hit when he balked at the top of the steps. The man dragging Kono down behind them had lashed out with his heavy boot and nearly sent Danny headfirst down the stairs with a well-placed kick behind Danny's knee. He's fallen hard – straight down to the step by sheer will and desperate hold on the banister – and cracked his kneecap on the edge of a step. Besides giving direction now and again, the three men who'd grabbed them hadn't said anything, but Danny had a pretty good feeling the questions would start soon enough.

He just wished that they hadn't thrown them into a basement, handcuffed to his unconscious teammate around a pole set so close to the wall that they were both pretty much trapped right there. Danny had sat on the floor next to where Kono was sprawled, her cuffed wrist in his own cuffed hand, and stretching a little awkwardly to keep an eye on her, just waiting for her to finally wake up.

It gave him way too much time to think. His mind strayed to Grace, to Amber, to Matty, even his parents and his sisters and pretty much everyone he knew. It was a horrible choice forced on him: either fill his mind with Kono's bloodied face or let his very overactive imagination provide him with different death scenarios for every person he knew and marginally cared for, in order of most loved to "had a handful of pleasant conversations." It was a long list and his only saving grace was knowing full well that one Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett would grab onto his request to keep Amber safe like a damned pit bull and God love him for it.

And then Chin would break down every door on the island looking for Kono and Danny, by extension, right along with her and Danny could only hope that Grace was swept up in all the (so far theoretical) rescuing somewhere. That they hadn't found her and instead had walked right into an obvious (in hindsight) trap gave Danny a little boost of hope. It meant that Grace was likely not in the clutches of men who would ruthlessly knock a couple cops around as a means to an end. So he hoped and even prayed that Grace was caught up in all the rescuing, that maybe Amber and Grace hadn't been seperated after all, that Steve and Chin and Lou would take a few names and kick a few asses in their quest to keep the people who called Danny friend and family safe.

Because otherwise, if he didn't doggedly hold onto that, it was far too easy to fall into old patterns. Steve's power of positive thinking was about the only think keeping Danny sane at the moment; the old walls of the basement and the low ceiling and the one light barely keeping shadow at bay brought with them all the old, horrible thoughts. All the images of violence and death he couldn't entertain were in those barely contained shadows.

He'd fall apart if he didn't keep them in those shadows.

The basement wasn't exactly doing wonders for his mental health here, but he'd long ago abandoned reciting baseball line-ups for telling himself over and over again that, if McGarrett was going to fill his fail one mission this year so as to still look like an occasionally fallible human being quota, he wasn't going to start with this one. Danny knew Steve – and Chin and, hell, even Lou – well enough to know that any one of the three would move mountains when it came protecting one of their own. Put the three together and their dogged determination could be felt halfway across the mainland.

Carter's behind the plate had been replaced by Grace is safe. Amber's okay. The team will make sure of it. He said it aloud just to hammer it through his own thick head. "Grace is safe."

The words echoed lightly in the closed off basement. The hanging light swayed in a nonexistent breeze. Danny's fingers adjusted their grip around Kono's wrist; her pulse was steady and true.

"Grace is safe."

The whisper itself seemed to beat back the darkness, if only for a short moment.

"Grace is safe."

Kono's hand was warmer in his. Her hand moved, tentative at first and then pulling uncomfortably at the cuffs. Danny's wrist was caught awkwardly between the wall and the pipe. He leaned forward, his other hand smoothing over her forehead before patting lightly at her cheek. "Kono? You with me?"

Her brow furrowed and, once again, she yanked at the cuffs. Okay, so maybe not completely with him, but aware enough to know she was well and truly trapped. Too bad all her yanking was doing was bending Danny's wrist the wrong way. He patted her cheek again. "Okay, doll? You can stop that anytime." He bent awkwardly, the fingers on his cuffed hand resting lightly over her knuckles.

She blinked at him, gaze a little foggy but recognition in their depths. Danny was glad to see it. He let his free hand fall away from her cheek as she scooted back toward the wall. "The hell?" Her voice was rough and raw and, once again, she yanked on the cuffs.

Danny grunted. "Babe. Ow."

Kono looked down at the cuffs and winced. "Sorry." She reached up with her free hand and ran it over her face. "Okay. Okay. Sorry."

Danny carefully twisted his wrist free of its awkward position. "Take your time." Lord knows he knew what it was like to come to after a hit like that. It always took a few minutes.

Her hand dropped to her lap. "Where are we?"

"Good question." Danny carefully moved, free hand reaching up to probe at Kono's bruised temple. She gave him an unimpressed look but he stalwartly ignored it in order to check the wound. "I wasn't able to keep track."

Her brow furrowed and she sighed. "So we're not at that house anymore?"

He shook his head. "You, doll, slept through a good bit."

"Sorry." Kono ran a hand through her hair, mussing up an already fairly wild mane. She leaned back against the wall; Danny pulled his hand away. "He really got the jump on me."

At that, Danny winced. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"Not your fault." Kono groaned and rested her hand over her eyes. "We were both in too much of a hurry."

Again, Danny winced, though Kono couldn't see it. So desperate for some news of Grace, they hadn't done much in the way of preparation on this one – and that lack of preparation had manifested in the worst of ways. Handcuffed and prisoner, neither were in a position to do much about it. Those dark thoughts threatened to overwhelm him again – Grace is safe – and Danny forced them aside by focusing solely on Kono.

She was gaining some strength, though he had seen her trouble focusing. He kept his fingers resting lightly on her wrist, something he was sure that she noticed but she hadn't said anything about it. Through it all, her heartbeat had been steady and strong and Danny gave thanks for that. Her skin was a little cold, a little clammy and that bruise stood out starkly against her dark skin. "How's your head?" he asked, voice soft.

"Hurts like a bitch." She said it wryly and peered at him as she lifted her hand to look under it toward him. "Can't wait to return that favor." Her grin was worried and lopsided, but hell if Danny didn't try to return it. You can take Five-0 out of the fight but apparently, the fight didn't leave Five-0 so easily. His own answering grin was uncertain; he latched onto Kono's ruthless optimism in lieu of realizing once again how close these walls were. Stark shadows threw the walls into sharp relief, hid the corners of the basement, but Kono's grin was a lifeline – and Danny needed it desperately.

There was a shrewd look in her eye, even through the concussion-induced fuzziness, and her gaze seemed to see right into Danny's heart. That grin became something more concerned, her brow furrowing again as she regarded him. For all that Danny was trying very hard to remain impassive and determined, he felt as he walked a knife's edge, waiting for the inevitable moment when his soul shattered into a million dark pieces. That Kono could see it didn't surprise him in the least. He had been broadcasting his very real worry since they received the news about Amber and Grace.

(Grace is safe.)The shadows were longer now.

"Danny..." Kono's voice was soft and raw; it threatened to send him tumbling from his carefully-constructed edge.

He shook his head, expression hardening. He couldn't think about it now. Could not and if he did he'd fall apart right here and then where would they be?

Kono watched him for a long moment before simply nodding, her own concern shuttered behind a hardened countenance. Concern gave way to resolve, worry to rage. She nodded again, turned her wrist in his fingers and gave his hand a quick squeeze. Perceptive she may be, but she couldn't let the moment go without some attempt at encouragement.

The door at the top of the stairs creaked open; no additional lights were turned on but bright sunlight spilled down the old staircase, dust motes dancing without a care in the rays. Danny's fingers closed around Kono's hand and, with a look to each other, they climbed to their feet. It was almost seamless, how they moved together, born from long hours working together. Footsteps sounded on the old steps, wood creaking in protest.

(Grace is safe.)

Two men came down the stairs: one reminded Danny of McGarrett, in a way. Tall and lean and with a physical presence that filled a space, he immediately drew Danny's eye. Behind him came another man, similar in height but beefier. Both dark-haired, the first was dark-skinned. Danny knew from personal experience that tough callouses covered the pads of his fingers; he was used to hard work, which honestly didn't give Danny much in the way of reassurance.

The second man – light-skinned and green-eyed and damned imposing in those stark shadows at the bottom of the steps – hung back, arms crossed tightly as he took up a position at the base of the staircase. The first stopped in front of Danny; the detective drew himself up, tense and waiting.

No one breathed. Dust danced lightly, a halo around the second man's dark hair. Kono's gaze cut to Danny and her fingers tapped lightly against his wrist.

Be careful. She didn't have to say it aloud; he felt it in her touch.

The man in front of Danny moved quickly; Danny barely had time to brace himself before a wicked punch connected with his jaw. He staggered to the side, Kono's gasp echoing loudly in his ear. Her hand closed around his arm, giving him some support while he found his footing again. His cuffed hand turned awkwardly behind him, but her grip there was strong.

Danny grunted, turned his head, and spat blood. (Some part of his mind winced; he practically drooled blood nearly right on Kono's shoes. Disgusting.) Kono was quiet but stalwart. Her hand on his bicep never wavered and she barely staggered under his weight before he found his feet. Danny shook his head and straightened, shoving pain aside and letting anger take what it will. If he was angry, he couldn't be afraid. The shadows, the worry, the fear couldn't have him if anger had him.

"You know what we're here for." The man's voice carried only a hint of an accent; his tone was dark.

Danny's mouth moved before he could think better of it. "Honeymoon?"

The man's forearm came up to press against Danny's throat; he drove Danny back into the wall. Kono's hand fell away from his arm, but her hand in his clawed at his wrist. She hissed his name and Danny saw, out of the corner of his eye, her free hand balled into a fist. She swung mercilessly – only to connect to the second man's forearm. He'd moved so quickly Danny hadn't even seen him; he spun and his elbow caught Kono just below the throat. Choking, she struggled to remain on her feet and, when she did fall to her knees, Danny's wrist caught painfully against the pipe. By the time she regained her senses, the second man had her effectively pinned to the wall.

The pressure against Danny's throat only increased. Grey danced around the edges of his vision. The shadows lengthened, undulating and reaching into the dim light.

(Grace is safe.) It was a desperate though, nearly a prayer that his team come through for him on this one. If the shadows took him, then at least Grace would be safe and that's what mattered. He needed to believe that McGarrett wasn't going to let a damn thing stop him and damned be anything that said otherwise.

But it was hard to remain positive in any way when the shadows were actively trying to steal his consciousness. Kono hissed his name again; he saw her bucking against her captor. A vision of another time, another place, superimposed over her: another partner, her wild curls untamed in both life and death watching in concern and fear. Danny's free hand scratched at the arm at his neck and his heels scrabbled against the concrete floor.

As darkness came for him – and he grit his teeth against it – the pressure suddenly lessened. Gasping for air, Danny was pulled forward by a hand in his collar. That meaty fist connected with his jaw again; the tang of blood sat on his tongue and he was thrown forward. With one arm bent painfully behind him, Danny landed on his knees and one hand. Kono's fingers clawed desperately at his wrist; she'd fallen silent but that said all he needed to hear. Her concern bolstered him and he found it in himself to return the man's impassive gaze with a heated rage-fueled look of his own.

"Let's talk about the money," the man said.

Danny knew it wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation. Far from it.

TBC...

Author's Note: My apologies for the delay on this one. Pneumonia sucks.