A/N: The whump continues for Steve, while Danny works on making his way inside. Be warned that some scenes may be uncomfortable as Steve spends more time with his Russian 'friends.'

"Detective Williams. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Danny was surprised it had taken the colonel this long to figure out that he wasn't some poor SWAT recruit who couldn't figure out jurisdiction lines. Now well past the safety perimeter on the Palace lawn and closing fast on the building, he took cover behind a tree at the edge of the lot before answering. "Rescuing my partner, sir."

"Get back here! You're going to get him killed."

"Yeah?" Danny doubted that. He knew the Five-0 building and grounds just as well as he'd known his old stomping ground back in Jersey. Better, probably. He knew the camera angles, the blind spots, the places that neither windows nor cameras could see. He'd mapped his route carefully and was now within spitting distance of his target. Did the Colonel know the Palace that well? Danny doubted it. In fact, he was willing to bet that it was the planning phase of this rescue operation that was taking so long, as the colonel tried to find a way into the building that couldn't be seen by the hostiles inside and would allow them some measure of surprise. He really should've asked me, Danny thought but knew the man would never grovel that low.

"Detective, did you hear me?" the colonel snapped. "You're going to get your partner killed!"

"You're as much to blame as me. You should've told us what we were up against." Stooping, Danny ran swiftly through the blind spot in the yard and pressed himself up against the building. "I don't know- maybe you read Steve in on everything and he couldn't tell me, but that's not right, either. We're partners; I deserve to know what he knows."

"You don't have the clearance to know what he knows."

"Seriously? Did I ask for Chinese terrorists to kidnap and waterboard me?" Danny hissed furiously into the microphone. "Steve wouldn't be in this position if you had briefed us as a team. I wouldn't have been kidnapped and tortured if you'd told us what we were up against. Instead, you waited until it was too late."

"Detective…"

"If Steve dies, I will make you pay," Danny finished with a growl and switched the mic off. He leaned against the building, breathing heavily. He'd let Thule get to him and cursed silently at his stupidity. If Thule didn't have him arrested after this, it would be a miracle.

Although… Danny could see snipers in the lawn moving into new positions and realized that Thule might have a different plan in mind. Obviously, the colonel wouldn't kill him, but wounding him enough to take him out of the action might be an option. Danny needed to move, and fast.

Reaching up, he peered through the window. The room inside, one of the administrative offices on the ground floor, was empty.

Because the building was old and hadn't been renovated recently, the window panes were held in place with a simple rubber putty. Danny peeled the stuff away with his pocket knife, wiggled the pane of glass out, and unlocked the latch. A moment later, he scrambled over the sill and dropped silently to the floor.

He was in.

…

Sergei squeezed tightly, a grim smile on his lips as Steve struggled for air.

As his vision greyed and the sounds around him faded, Steve lashed out with his feet, finally securing a firm kick to Sergei's groin. The man released him and Steve stumbled backwards, wheezing as he sucked in precious oxygen.

"You should not have done that," Sergei growled. Raising his leg, the Russian smashed his boot into the large, blossoming bruise on Steve's leg. Steve cried out and fell sideways into the shower wall, gasping in pain. Fisting a handful of hair, Sergei pulled him upright into a kneeling position. "You will die today," he snarled in Steve's ear. "Tell me where the drive is."

Steve spat another mix of blood and saliva into the pool of water in the flooded shower stall. "Go to hell."

Sergei barked and another soldier stepped into the cramped space, took Steve's arms, and held him upright as the Russian commander delivered a series of swift and brutal blows to Steve's chest and midsection.

As his body jerked, Steve only grunted and tried to focus on staying conscious. He cried out again as one of the strikes seemed to break a rib, sending a sharp pain through his side. His breaths came in shallow gasps as each inhale ached across his lungs. Sergei continued the assault for several long minutes until Steve's head dropped. Then he finally paused.

"Well?" Sergei jerked Steve's head back, checking that he was still conscious. "Where is the drive?"

Steve tried to inhale deeply and wheezed. His eyes closed as he focused on his breaths.

"Where is the drive?!"

Steve's face was rapidly swelling from the beating, but he cracked open one eye to look at his opponent. "You really think I would betray my country and tell you?"

Sergei's eyes flashed angrily. The man behind Steve suddenly tightened his grip as Sergei's hand flashed forward. The single jab was low and to the right, and its effect was immediate. As Steve cried out, a sudden rush of liquid spilled between his legs and pooled around the clogged shower drain. With a knee in his back, Steve's guard shoved him forward, forcing him face-down in the mess and a heavy, gloved hand held his head in place.

Sergei leaned in. "You should have told me," he said in a low voice. "Now your suffering truly begins."

…

Danny crouched on the floor of the office behind a low cubicle wall and removed the heavy SWAT helmet and some of the bulkier gear but left the gas mask firmly in place. Having achieved access to the building, he no longer felt the need to carry the extra grenades or wear the bulky knee and elbow pads and quickly sat down to pull them off. He was thankful for the musty carpet, which muffled some of the noise as he went about removing his gear and shoving it under the nearest desk.

At the slightest creak above him, he froze, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. Was someone there? Was the noise here, in this room, or the office above him? A prolonged silence finally convinced him that he was in no danger.

So this is what it feels like to be SuperSEAL. Danny wasn't sure he liked the feeling. Alone and isolated behind enemy lines, he felt naked and exposed without his partner nearby. Was this how Steve felt on missions? Danny doubted it. For one, his partner was fearless- too much so, if anyone wanted Danny's opinion- and being alone in dangerous situations didn't seem to bother him one bit. But Steve also had his team when he went away, his equally-fearless group of comrades whom he could trust to have his back during whatever dangerous exploits he carried out in the remote corners of the world. Danny sighed, almost wistfully.

Okay… what now? The last place Danny had seen his partner had been upstairs, with the horse. He needed to make it up to the office. What would Steve do? An elevator shaft came immediately to mind. Steve would do something stupid. New question: What would Danny do?

Danny would do something smart.

Standing, he rolled his shoulders to relieve some of the tension. Then he made his way to the main hall behind the grand staircase in the lobby. Only two men guarded the lobby doors on this level, although Danny was quite certain that there were more on the balcony upstairs. With their attention focused on the threat outside, it was simple enough to slip behind them and make his way silently down the hall.

It didn't take him long to find the right door. Security read the simple plaque. Danny tried the door, praying it would open since he didn't have his partner's lockpicking skills.

To his surprise, it was unlocked.

And empty.

Danny stepped inside, pulling the door softly closed behind him, and stared at the blank monitors. Static flashed across the screens and several alerts were lit up on a small panel. It took Danny a moment to understand.

They had taken down the surveillance cameras.

Duh, Williams, he chided himself. Of course they did. They wouldn't want anyone watching them after they were in. They had gone to the trouble of cutting their internet and phone lines, so why not security cameras, too?

Danny sighed. So much for his brilliant plan to use the cameras to his own advantage. Was it a simple fix? He looked under the desk and realized many of the wires were simply unplugged. Probably simple, but Danny didn't have time to sort it out. He had more important things to do.

Like find Steve.

…

Steve's initial gasp of surprise at the well-aimed jab turned into a not-quite-silent scream as the pain struck a fraction later. He felt a warm stream trickle down his legs and immediately hunched over in pain, powerless to stop the guard who forced him to lie down in it and pressed his head into the mix until he could barely breathe.

He didn't have the strength to feel embarrassed. His face nearly submerged, he fought for air, sucking in and out desperately from one corner of his mouth while the guard pressed down firmly on his head. The smell was ghastly- blood, urine, and the burning scent of tear gas, all churned together in the hot air of the tiny shower stall.

Steve kicked and floundered but couldn't break his guard's hold. Someone threw more ice over him, packing it in around him with their boots, pushing it roughly against some of his more temperature-sensitive areas.

"..?" One of the soldiers called to Sergei and he stepped away, releasing his hold on Steve's neck. Twisting, Steve sucked in a full breath. The guard kneeling on his back remained.

Steve squinted through his swollen eye and saw Sergei standing near the sinks with several men. They spoke in hushed voices at first, then louder, with Sergei clearly upset and angry about something. A moment later, a command was given and the guard on Steve's back suddenly stepped away, leaving Steve behind in the shower and temporarily alone.

Steve pulled himself into a kneeling position. Bruised, battered, and soaking wet, he knew he had little time to appreciate the short reprieve in his interrogation while Sergei spoke to his men. As the yellow liquid from his unexpected release pooled around his feet and legs, he closed his eyes and tried to pull his ragged breathing under control.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale…

Heavy footfalls announced the return of the large commander and one of his subordinates a few minutes later. Steve opened his eyes as the men stepped into the stall, uneasily noticing the large knife in Sergei's hand.

"I am becoming impatient, Lieutenant Commander. My men have searched upstairs. They have searched the horse. They have torn apart your office and will soon finish tearing apart every other office in this building. I am running out of patience for your 'ignorance'." He hooked the blade under Steve's chin, drawing blood. "Where is the drive?"

"I don't know."

The butt of the knife connected with his naval and he doubled over briefly. One of Sergei's men pulled him up.

"And the horse?" Sergei demanded. "Tell me about the horse."

Steve sucked in a pained breath. "I was hired… to find… the horse. That's it. Don't know… about a thumb drive."

"A Navy SEAL hired to find a horse?" Sergei barked a short, mirthless laugh. "You are a terrible liar."

"Not… a SEAL… anymore." Steve winced as the knife moved along his neck to a tender location just behind his ear. He jerked his head away, but the man standing behind him slid an arm around his neck, locking his head in place.

"I have ten minutes, Steven McGarrett," Sergei said, pricking the tender skin behind his ear with the blade. "In ten minutes, you will either tell me where the USB drive is, or you will die, one piece at a time. We will start with this ear."

Steve swallowed with difficulty. The knife dug into the soft skin just behind his earlobe.

"Where is the drive?"

…

Danny made it upstairs without too much difficulty. He only had to hide once, forcing himself into a supply closet to crouch among the mops as two of the intruders appeared suddenly from the main lobby. Thankfully, they passed by without seeing him and quickly disappeared into the stairwell and went toward the basement. Danny breathed a sigh of relief.

He cleared upstairs hallway first, but there was only one lone man on duty, and Danny quickly dispatched him with a single shot, feeling little remorse as the bullet splintered the man's skull and left a nasty stain across the floor. Stepping over the body, he swung around the corner toward the Five-0 offices, his weapon raised as he expected a fight.

Instead, he found an empty wreck. Broken glass littered the floor and trashed files were scattered everywhere. The cleanup alone would take days, maybe all of next week, and there was no telling what the damage to their systems had been. Still, not a man was in sight.

Only partially relieved at the lack of greeting, Danny swept the office room by room, trying to avoid stepping on the debris as he quietly checked the corners and crevices for any enemies. The horse he discovered in the breakroom, alive and surprisingly unharmed. The vending machines had been destroyed but the rest of the space was largely untouched in comparison to the rest of the office.

Stepping into the bullpen where their large computer once stood, Danny surveyed the damage. Paper and glass covered nearly every surface, the furniture in each office tossed or shoved haphazardly in all directions, and every computer that he could see appeared to be smashed.

His own office was in disarray- the filing cabinet had been thrown open and its contents emptied across the floor- but there was little to actually destroy. Danny didn't keep many personal mementos at work and his laptop happened to be resting at his apartment, safely out of danger. Aside from a broken lamp and some overturned shelves, there was little to repair.

Steve's office, on the other hand, contained shelves of awards and memorabilia, and Danny was afraid to see what the terrorists had done with it all. He approached cautiously, gun raised.

As he rounded the corner, someone suddenly knocked the gun from his grasp.

Danny jumped backwards in surprise. The Russian cursed loudly. Danny didn't have time to wonder where he'd come from- the gun skittered across the floor and both men lunged for it.

The Russian got there first. Danny grabbed his foot, pulling the man down, and clawed his way up the torso, somehow managing to pin his arm before the other could fire. The Russian fought back, kicking and punching as they wrestled for control over the weapon.

As they grappled, Danny ended up underneath the man and wrapped an arm around his neck, squeezing tightly. The Russian, both hands free, now grabbed the gun and tried to fire. Danny heard several shots and felt one bullet graze the back of his vest as the man shot blindly behind him.

I'm going to die, Danny thought briefly. He shifted, searching for a better hold. The man squirmed, trying to get a better angle with the gun. His elbow knocked the mask askew on Danny's face, causing the detective to suddenly begin coughing as the smoke infiltrated his already-irritated lungs. Danny could feel his hands slipping. He struggled to regain control, but his hands were sweaty and he couldn't quite find a good grip. Any second now, the man would point the barrel of the weapon in his direction and Danny would cease to exist.

Then Danny snapped his neck.

…

Danny hadn't meant to kill him. At least, not like that. He felt slightly sick at the pop and slight crack under his fingers. There was something quite different about killing with his hands than with a gun. The gun felt remote, connected yet detached. Danny had killed many times with a gun. He'd killed with a knife. And after each incident, he had dutifully attended every mandatory counselling session and never had any trouble being cleared for active duty.

This time was different.

How many months of therapy am I going to need for this? he wondered as he pushed the man's body to one side and lay panting on the ground, trying not to empty his lunch on the ground. Steve had taught him that move, and they had practiced and drilled with it during their weekly training sessions, but Danny had never needed to use it until now. How often was he in close-quarters combat, anyway?

He unclipped the man's radio and popped the small earbud in his other ear. Checking to be sure that he could hear but not be heard, he stole out of the office and prowled down the long hallway. The com was eerily quiet.

Where was everyone?

Had that man- and the horse- really been the only occupants of the Five-0 offices? Where were the others?

Disconcerted, Danny hurriedly swept the rest of the second floor.

He took out one man who had taken up a sniper's perch by a window, and he killed two more as they lay in wait on the balcony overlooking the main lobby. Heart ramming, he fled down the stairs, waiting for the inevitable alert over the earpiece, but nothing happened. The building remained startlingly silent.

Hurrying now, Danny made his way back to the security office. The door was cracked and he could see someone sitting in the chair. Someone had gotten the feeds back up, and the man was scanning the cameras. It looked as though he had just started- some of the monitors still weren't on- and Danny realized with relief that the man hadn't seen him yet.

Yet.

As Danny inched closer, he bumped the door. It swung open, creaking loudly on ancient hinges. Danny winced and froze in place.

The man turned. His eyes widened. Reaching behind, he produced a gun and swung it in Danny's direction.

Danny shot first.

Two shots, just to be safe. The man slumped, his gun clattering to the floor. Danny pushed the dead man out of the chair and scanned the monitors. It only took a moment to find Steve. He couldn't see his partner since the cameras only covered the door to the locker room, but the evidence of the armed guards standing in that doorway spoke for itself. He popped his earpiece back in.

"This is Detective Williams. Anybody out there?"

He was relieved when a voice immediately responded: "This is Sargent Clive, SWAT. What's your position, sir?"

"I need to talk to Colonel Thule. Put him on."

"One moment, sir."

Danny kept a wary eye on the monitors as he waited for several agonizing seconds.

"More threats for me, Detective Williams?" the man asked drily as he came on. "I hope you like being unemployed."

"Throw me in the brig after we get Steve out." Danny was in no mood to argue with him. "I'm in the security office and I have Steve's location. They're down in the locker room in the basement. You've got about five minutes before they figure out their man watching the surveillance cameras is dead."

The colonel huffed a sound of disbelief. "And they didn't post any guards?"

"The guards are dead," Danny replied shortly. He studied the image on the monitor. "You've got two hostiles in the locker room doorway. That's it. I don't know how many more are inside down there, but you'd better hurry. Once they know the building has been breached, Steve is dead."

"If Commander McGarrett dies, this is on you, detective."

"If Steve dies, it's because you weren't fast enough," Danny responded.

…

His days in the Navy were almost over. One short, quick swipe and Steve would be on the next medical discharge list.

"Five seconds, Lieutenant Commander," Sergei warned, sending a trickle of blood down Steve's ear as he dug the knife in. The blood from the cut dripped into the ice-clogged drain, mingling with the urine to form a nasty shade of pale orange. Steve tried to suppress a shiver as his feet protested the numbing mix that pooled in the stall.

"Four…"

Steve was in no condition to fight. He couldn't win. The best he could do was leave with dignity.

"Three… two…"

Steve straightened his back. Looking straight ahead, he locked his jaw and braced for the oncoming pain.

"One."

A/N: Can't say I'm a huge fan of this chapter. Might need some re-working later. Still fun to write, though. Hope you enjoy!