Chapter 4

Danny was tired. So very tired.

To say the day had been draining was an understatement. Between finding Steve, spending seemingly endless hours at the hospital, and then finally having to relive one of the worst days of his life, Danny was just plain spent, both emotionally and physically. All he wanted to do was to go home and sleep for 12 hours straight.

If only he could do that.

After telling Steve about the night he went missing, they both sat at the kitchen table in silence for a while, the sorrow hanging heavy in the air around them.

Finally, Danny couldn't stand it anymore. He had to get it off his chest.

"I'm sorry, Steve," he said quietly.

And he was sorry. Sorry they had split up; sorry he had lost Steve; sorry that he couldn't find him again, no matter how long and hard he looked. He would give almost anything for a do-over of that last five minutes.

Steve sighed. "It wasn't your fault, Danny."

"And you know this how?" Danny asked.

"Because I know you. And I know me."

Danny shook his head. "We shouldn't have split up. I should have insisted we stay together…" he started but was cut off.

"I never would have agreed to that and you know it," Steve interjected.

At that, Danny almost smiled. "So what you're saying is it was your fault?"

Steve gave Danny a half grin. "Something like that. Isn't that what you're always telling me?"

"Yeah, and you never listen."

"Well, maybe this time I am," Steve said with a smile; a smile that faded after a moment as they lapsed back into silence.

Then Steve spoke. "I want to go."

Danny looked up, confused. "Go where?"

"To the warehouse district, where I disappeared," Steve said simply, as though the answer was obvious. "Take a look around, see if anything looks familiar."

Danny sighed and glanced at his watch. "Look, Steve," he reasoned, "I know you want your memory back and you wanted it back yesterday. But it's eleven o'clock and it's too dark to see anything anyway. Not to mention, you're beat and so am I. Let's just call it a night, get some rest, and we can go take a look in the morning."

Steve thought it over for a moment and then agreed. "Ok." He nodded, rising from his chair.

"Ok." Danny walked over and rinsed out his coffee mug, setting it down in the sink. He wiped his hands off on a towel and turned around, facing Steve. "You know, I could stay here if you want, just in case you need anything." He pointed to the living room. "I could crash on the sofa."

Steve rolled his eyes as he brought the coffee pot over to the sink and dumped it. "I don't need a nanny, Danny. I forgot what I did last Tuesday. I didn't forget how to brush my teeth."

"Ok, then." Danny blew out a breath, somewhat relieved. "How about I swing by around nine in the morning and we can go from there?"

Steve nodded again. "Sounds good."

*H50*

And it did sound good.

It sounded great, actually. Especially half an hour later as Danny sat in the Camaro in the dark, two doors down from Steve's house. He dropped his head into his hand and rubbed it, trying to ease his headache. He was hoping he was wrong. Praying he was wrong…

He heard the distinct rumble of a truck engine starting up.

… And he wasn't wrong.

Danny sighed as he fired up the Camaro and put it in gear, pulling forward to block Steve's driveway.

Thankfully, Steve noticed the car before he plowed the Silverado into its side.

"What are you doing, Danny?" Steve called across the driveway as he jumped out of his truck.

Danny got out of the Camaro and shut its door. "I'm trying to keep you from doing something stupid," he explained as he walked toward Steve, trying to defuse the situation.

Not that it worked.

"So finding out what happened to me is stupid?" Steve practically yelled.

The neighbor's lights went on next door.

Danny raised his hands in an effort to quiet and calm Steve down. "Of course not. But going off in the middle of the night, by yourself, with amnesia, is not the best idea."

Steve placed his hands on his hips. "So you have a better one?" he challenged.

"Yes," Danny nodded. "If you have to go tonight, we can go together."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight onto his left hip. He carefully studied Danny and then his eyes narrowed. "If you knew I was going to go, and you were willing to come along, then why didn't you just agree to go with me in the first place?" he asked.

Danny shrugged, his hands now in his pockets. "I was hoping you'd forgotten how stubborn you are."

At that, the tension left Steve's body and he relaxed. He looked at Danny and smirked. "No way, man. That's a long term memory thing."

Danny nodded sagely. "I was afraid of that. But on the bright side, at least you've had time to shower and change," he said, gesturing to Steve's clean clothes and freshly shaven face.

Steve shrugged. "Yeah, well, I had to look nice for our hot date."

Danny rolled his eyes and shook his head. But he also grinned. "Whatever. Just park your truck so we can get going."

*H50*

It was past midnight by the time they arrived at the warehouse district.

The place was mainly deserted, except for a few prostitutes working the streets and a drug dealer or two lurking in shadowy doorways. All of them scattered and fled when the Camaro approached and parked at the curb.

Steve watched them go, looking out from the passenger side window. "Well, I guess that saves us a few arrests."

"Which reminds me," Danny said, "I need to take the alert off your badge."

Steve looked over, surprised. "You have an alert on my badge?"

Danny nodded. "I wanted to be notified in case you tried to use it. Or anyone else, for that matter." He shrugged. "I thought it might help us find you."

"That's smart," Steve acknowledged.

"That's why they pay me the medium bucks," Danny quipped with a half-hearted smile.

Steve grinned. Some things never changed, no matter how much time had gone by. "The raises still that bad?" he asked.

Danny shrugged again. "The cost of living raises still suck. But the promotion one was ok."

At that, Steve's smile widened. "You got promoted? That's great! What are you now, a Sergeant?"

Danny squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "Actually," he hesitated before looking over at Steve, "I skipped over Sergeant and went straight to Lieutenant. I guess the Governor didn't want the head of Five-0 to be outranked by one of his other officers."

Steve should have anticipated that Danny was now in charge. He should have thought about it. He should have seen it coming from a mile away.

But he hadn't.

He had been so caught up in trying to figure out what happened that it never even occurred to him that once he had the answer, he might not have the jurisdiction to do anything about it.

And now that he knew, the implications hit him like a brick wall. Was he still a part of Five-0? And his immunity and means- did they go flying out the window the second he disappeared? Could he make an arrest? Could he question a suspect? Could he carry a gun? Could he even carry a badge? Did he have the authority to do anything at all?

And with that, Steve was lost, floundering; even more than he had been before.

But even amidst the confusion, there was something else. Steve wasn't sure what to call it... "Pride" seemed too fatherly. "Happiness", maybe? But that seemed too glib. Perhaps "contentment"? Or "satisfaction"? He really didn't know. All Steve knew was that is he wasn't in charge of Five-0 anymore, the person he'd want to have the job was Danny. His partner was a great detective with good instincts who worked hard. He had earned it.

"That's… great, Danny," Steve started.

"You know what," Danny interrupted, holding up his hand to stop Steve from speaking. "You don't have to say anything. You're still in Five-0 in my book. So let's just pretend things are like they've always been and try to find out what happened to you. We can talk about the rest later."

Steve wasn't quite sure what to say. But it was obvious, just by looking at Danny, that this was one conversation he simply didn't want to have right now. He just looked… drained. Steve wasn't sure why he hadn't noticed it before. Granted, Danny had mentioned being tired a few times that evening but he didn't think much about it because Steve had been tired, too. And besides, Danny just liked to complain. It was almost as natural to him as breathing.

But he really did look exhausted. And since Steve had already forced him to talk about his disappearance and dragged him out to the warehouse district in the middle of the night, both against his will, Steve decided the least he could do was honor his partner's request now. The discussion could wait until Danny was ready, however long that might be. It was the least Steve could do.

"Ok," he agreed.

Danny looked over at Steve, wary. "Is this like the 'ok' in the house, where you agree with me but then do whatever the hell you want thirty minutes later?"

A small smile crossed Steve's lips. "No. Not this time."

"Alright, then," Danny nodded. He reached for the car door. "Let's go."

*H50*

They started at the beginning, at the street corner where they first saw Wang Lee. Danny led the way, retracing their steps, as they weaved between buildings and through the alleyways. What few people were on the streets melted into the darkness as Steve and Danny approached, the badge clipped to Danny's belt shining like a beacon; or, perhaps more accurately, a warning. They continued walking until they reached the point where they had spilt up and Steve had disappeared.

"So this is it?" Steve asked, looking around at the intersection. There was nothing remarkable about it—it looked like all the other intersections they had passed through so far that night. Dark, with a few stray cars parked down the side streets, and some litter blowing along the ground in the light island breeze. It simply looked ordinary with nothing indicating this was where Steve's life was changed forever.

Danny nodded. "Yeah. I went left and you," he said, pointing, "went off that way to the right."

"Then to the right it is," Steve commented, turning that way.

Danny fell in step beside him. "Does anything look familiar?" he asked as they walked.

Steve shook his head. "No."

Danny asked the same question and got the same response over a dozen times as they traversed the streets, searching the same initial grid from 19 months before. Two hours later, they were finished and had nothing to show for it but frustration.

"So still nothing?" Danny asked.

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. "No."

"Look, Steve," Danny began, "the doctor said it might take time. Let's give your head a few days to rest and then we can come back. Maybe something will look familiar then."

Steve rubbed his eyes a second more, then dropped his hands. He really didn't want to give up, but what Danny said made sense. It was late, they were both beyond exhausted, and who knew if his brain was even capable of remembering anything at the moment? Going home and starting fresh in a day or two couldn't hurt.

"You're probably right," Steve said with a sigh. "Where else do we have to look?"

"The airport and the docks."

Steve looked at his watch; it was after two a.m. "The airport's locked down for the night anyway. Let's drive by the docks on the way home and then call it a night."

Danny nodded. "Ok."

They made their way back to the Camaro and in a matter of minutes they were off, driving toward the docks on the Nimitz Parkway. Steve watched as they passed by the ships—some large, some small- and all universally rusty, giving them an air of neglect whether it was accurate or not.

Steve tried to pay attention to the actual docks, hoping to see something of note, something he remembered. But the lull of the car engine was pulling him towards sleep, reminding him that he had been up for over 24 hours, and most likely even longer. His eyes were getting sleepy, the lights from the ships beginning to blur together. Danny stopped for a red light and Steve found himself drawn toward one set of lights in particular- a simple string of white bulbs, spanning a ship from bow to stern, dangling and shining in the darkness. Just like a light bulb hanging from a wire…

Steve awoke with a jerk.

He didn't know where he was. And he didn't know how he got there.

But waking up in the dark, sitting on the floor with your hands bound behind your back and a sock duct taped into your mouth was always a bad sign. A very bad sign.

His eyes searched the dark but he couldn't see anything, save for a slim sliver of dim light near his feet. So, he was in a room. He tried to stretch out his legs, but they hit a wall after extending only a few inches. Ok then, a closet.

He listened, hearing a faint lapping of waves and then noticed slight movement. Steve knew what those two put together meant—a ship. He'd spent too many years in the Navy not to recognize when he was on the water. Although, the fact that he didn't realize it the second he woke up was troublesome. Which probably meant… Steve couldn't reach up and touch his throbbing head, but now that he was paying attention, it did feel wet. The rest of his clothes were dry, so the only logical conclusion was his head was bleeding; most likely a result of the same injury that caused him to black out.

So, bound and gagged in closet on a ship with a head injury. Things were not looking up.

He struggled to get free, twisting and turning and working on his bonds until sweat was running in rivulets down his back. All to no avail.

He was still stuck. Still captured. Still screwed.

He wasn't sure how long he sat in the darkness. An hour? Two? Four? Long enough for him to realize he no longer had his cell, badge, or gun. Long enough to realize the ship was picking up speed and they were headed out to the open sea. And long enough to realize he wasn't going to get free; at least, not in the closet.

Eventually, he heard footsteps approaching.

Steve cocked his head and listened closely. It sounded like two sets of footsteps, the difference in pressure and stride discernible to his trained ear.

Two against one… that wasn't too bad. Even bound, he'd take those odds. If he could just overpower them, he would have the element of surprise when he got up top. Then he could jump ship, literally, and rely on his drown-proofing training to get him to the surface and hopefully to shore. Provided they were not in the middle of the ocean already…

His planning was interrupted as the door was unlocked and suddenly jerked open, the light spilling in and temporarily blinding him. One of the men reached down and hauled him to his feet. Steve let him, playing the part of the woozy and disoriented captive to his advantage. He had been right—there were two men; both large, both very well armed.

Steve usually wasn't much for nicknames, that was more Danny's department, but he had to call them something. The one who still had him by the arm was short and stocky and had a shock of spiky black hair, so Steve nicknamed him Ernie. The other taller and thinner man naturally became Bert.

Ernie led Steve from the room into a dim hallway, the size of which told him they were on a fairly large ship; most likely a cargo freighter. They continued down the hall and stopped at a metal door, which Bert opened, revealing a set of utilitarian steel stairs. Ernie shoved Steve toward the steps, nudging him in the back with his AK-47 for good measure.

Steve saw his chance. Once they got to the top of the stairs, there would probably be more men. His best chance to stage an escape was now.

Steve stepped onto the first step, then the second, with Bert and Ernie right behind him. Steve pretended to stumble on the third step, rocking back unsteadily. Bert shifted to avoid him, which was exactly the opening Steve was looking for. He whirled around and landed a hard knee to Bert's groin. Bert automatically dropped his weapon and hunched over. Ernie started to pull up his assault rifle, ready to fire it at Steve. But with Bert now useless, Steve kicked out past him, knocking the AK-47 in Ernie's hands just enough to make his shot go wide. The bullet pinged around the steel laden stairwell loudly and dangerously. Steve didn't know where it came to rest, but since the bullet wasn't lodged in his body, he really didn't care. He placed a powerful kick to Ernie's chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Steve turned and ran up the stairs. He was almost to the top when the door was thrown open, a guard on the other side. Steve continued running and plowed into the man like a linebacker, knocking him down. Steve tripped on the man and stumbled, falling to his knees, his hands bound behind his back not helping his balance. Still, he got up and started to run again. He ran down the hallway and rounded the corner… and ran right into four armed men.

The lead man sneered at him as he raised the butt of his gun.

And everything went dark again.

*H50*

This time, when Steve woke up, he knew right away he was on a ship, even before he opened his eyes.

But when he did open his eyes—or more accurately his "eye", because his right eye was swollen shut—he noticed that some things were different this time.

Instead of sitting on the floor of a cramped closet in the dark, he was sitting in a chair at a table, and a single light bulb was swinging, ever so slightly, from a wire in the ceiling.

And this time, he was not alone.

Bert and Ernie were there, standing against the wall and glowering. Steve noted with some satisfaction that Bert was still a bit hunched over. Another man was also in the room; Steve thought he was the one who had knocked him out, but couldn't be sure. In any case, upon seeing Steve was awake, the man opened the door and left the room. Moments later, the door opened again and a man Steve had never seen before walked in.

He was Asian, in his early 30s, with a medium frame, muscular build, and closely cropped black hair. He was wearing a short-sleeved black t-shirt which revealed colorful tattoos overlapping every square inch of his bulging arms. They reminded Steve of a sticker book Grace had once left in Danny's car. Steve nicknamed him Stickers.

Stickers pulled out a chair and swung his leg over it lazily, sitting down across the wooden table across from Steve. Stickers leaned back, cocked his head, and proceeded to stare at his captive, his gaze a mixture of contempt and curiosity. After a moment, he spoke.

"So, Commander McGarrett of Five-0," he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Steve's badge, placing it on the table. "Glad you could join us."

Steve's stomach dropped.

"I have to say, I was really surprised when you ran onto the ship, chasing after that little punk of a pimp."

Steve searched his memory… a little punk… then he remembered. He had been chasing Wang Lee, the pimp with suspected ties to Sang Min. But if Steve had chased him on board, where was Wang Lee now? In a closet of his own? Or worse? Steve was hoping for the former but guessing the later.

His suspicions were confirmed almost immediately.

"Of course, I can't put up with that kind of stupidity. It's bad for business," Stickers said, shaking his head like he was sorry.

But Steve knew he wasn't sorry; not sorry at all. And Steve might have been tempted to say so if the sock wasn't still stuck in his mouth, the duct tape still secure even after the scuffle. But it was just as well; he didn't want to give Stickers the satisfaction of a reaction.

"But it was really good luck," Stickers continued. "Well, for me," he added with a smile, his teeth shiny and so white that Steve wondered if he spent every spare moment he had at the dentist's office with a bleach tray in his mouth. "For you… like him…" Stickers continued with a sneer, "not so much."

Again, Steve didn't react. He knew Stickers was trying to rattle him. What Stickers didn't know was that Steve was a SEAL and it took a lot more than a guy with a lot of tattoos and an attitude to ruffle his feathers. He remained emotionless as Stickers continued his monologue.

"I thought about killing you, too," Stickers said conversationally, as if he was discussing the daily surf report or the weather. "After all, my friends would be quite impressed if I took out the head of Five-0." Then he shrugged. "But killing a man while he's unconscious… it's kind of cowardly, don't you think?"

Steve did think so but he also didn't think for one second that Stickers cared about what was cowardly or not. So Steve just sat there, staring straight ahead, waiting for Stickers to finish his dog and pony show and get to the point.

Which he did.

Stickers picked up Steve's badge and began to spin it on the wooden table like a top, the light from the bare bulb glinting off the gold and blue shield as it twirled. "But then I realized that while my friends might be impressed if I killed you..." Steve's badge lost momentum and fell over, face down, and Stickers looked back up at Steve, all traces of humor and smiles now gone from his appearance.

"They would be even more impressed… if I used you."

To be continued…