A/N #1: So, if you guys have made it this far, you trust me, right? Ok. Keep that in mind.

A/N #2: I also wrote a short triple-drabble re: the show last night called "No Easy Answers". So please look for that later today.

Chapter 9

"Hey… You with me?"

Steve didn't answer, but at least he blinked a few times. Granted, they were slow blinks, and his partner sill looked more out of it than not, but at least it was a step in the right direction. And having now witnessed three episodes, he knew Steve would snap out of it when the flashback was over. All Danny had to do was wait.

And he had been waiting for a while.

Once it became evident that Steve had zoned out, thanks to the silence over the live feed, Danny quickly went into the blue room. He turned his partner away from Song and then told Steve he needed to talk to him for a moment in private. It was a half-truth, of course, and Steve didn't even acknowledge Danny's presence, much less that he had said anything.

But Song, who couldn't see Steve's face, was none the wiser. At least, Danny hoped he wasn't. Surely Song picked up on something, but with any luck he just thought it was a momentary lapse of concentration as opposed to a full-blown, lost-my-marbles space-out.

Danny had led Steve out of the room- he was surprisingly docile during a flashback, which was another problem—and down the hall to his office. Danny sat him down on the sofa while Danny took a guest chair nearby and waited.

Which was what he was still doing.

Danny glanced around. He would rather have played the waiting game in his own office, but decided that when Steve came out of it, it would probably help him get oriented more quickly if he was in familiar territory. Besides, Danny's office was a mess, with files everywhere, and finding places for two people to sit was somewhat of a challenge. For once, he was glad Steve was a neat freak. And he was also glad that he never could bring himself to clean out Steve's office after he disappeared, even when it looked hopeless that he would ever come back.

Steve blinked again, this time a little faster.

"Steve?" Danny asked again. If he'd had a dollar for every time he'd called his partner's name over the past few days trying to ground him, he wouldn't exactly be rich but he'd at least have a good start on Grace's college fund.

Steve's pupils began to constrict, returning to a more normal, less wide-eyed position, and Danny knew it was almost over.

"Hey, you're in your office. You're ok," he said, hoping it would help the transition back to reality.

It didn't.

Steve leapt up from the sofa, his eyes still unseeing.

Danny followed suit and reached out cautiously to his partner. "Hey, McGarrett," he said, concerned.

He still didn't respond, but that wasn't what worried Danny the most—what worried him the most was that Steve was shaking. Not with huge movements, like a seizure, but with slight tremors in his hands and arms. They weren't big, but they were there.

Shock, Danny thought. As if things were going so well before…

"McGarrett!" he called out again, louder this time.

This time, Steve responded.

By turning and making a break for the door.

Danny immediately blocked his way, not wanting a repeat of the bathroom boxing showdown. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"To kill him," Steve replied, his face contorted in anger.

And Danny realized it wasn't shock that was making Steve tremble—it was rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. He hadn't seen Steve this worked up since the night he broke into the Governor's mansion. And look how well that turned out...

"I can't let you do that," Danny told him, glancing at the bullpen. It was empty; Chin and Kono were still over at HPD, checking up on the crew of the Chì Lóng. It was up to him alone to prevent a very likely homicide.

"Why not?" Steve demanded, still trying to get around Danny.

Danny didn't budge, maintaining his position in the doorway. "Because I don't want you to spend the rest of your life in Halawa, that's why!" he exclaimed, his voice rising. "Especially since past history has taught us you wouldn't last very long!"

"I don't care!" Steve shouted.

"But I do!" Danny yelled back, equally loud.

Steve paused for a moment, hands on his hips, and worked his jaw as he fumed. After a minute, he spoke, his voice now low and threatening. "Get out of my way, Danny."

But Danny wasn't about to back down. Not now.

"No," he replied, his voice just as determined. "Not until you tell me what you remembered."

"And then you'll let me pass?" Steve asked, his question sounding more like a demand.

"Then we'll talk about it," Danny countered, unwilling to give his partner carte blanche.

"Which means no!"

"Which means we will talk about it," Danny corrected, trying his best not to think of how much he sounded like a parent and Steve a petulant teenager. "And then we'll decide what to do about the bad guys."

Danny's words didn't have quite the effect was anticipating. Instead of calming Steve down, he became more agitated.

"The bad guys?" Steve laughed bitterly. "Would you like to know something about the bad guys?"

Danny paused before answering, sensing he was walking into a trap but unable to figure out how. "Yes…," he hedged.

Steve ensnared him immediately.

"I'm one of them!" he exploded, pointing to himself. "ME, Danny! I'm one of the bad guys!"

Danny was stunned. He didn't know much, and he didn't know what Steve had remembered, but he knew there was no way Steve had gone to the dark side.

Just… no way.

"Steve, you're not one of the bad guys," he tried to reason, but Steve would have none of it.

"You don't know that!" Steve shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "You don't know what I did!"

"Ok, then," Danny pleaded, "tell me!"

"I helped them, Danny!" Steve yelled, the anguish plain on his face. "They didn't even have a gun to anyone's head- I just helped them!"

Danny's heart stopped.

And then it crumbled.

Steve helped?

Willingly?

It couldn't be true.

It just couldn't.

And he began to wonder again if maybe Steve was in shock. After all, Danny thought he might be in shock himself. He stood there numbly for a minute as he took it in.

Then he shook his head, his conviction returning.

No.

No matter what McGarrett thought, it wasn't true.

He looked at Steve, who was now sitting back on the sofa, and the heartache etched all over his face only confirmed his conclusion. Steve would die before he helped traffic girls. But it was also clear he remembered something; something that was tearing him apart. And Danny couldn't help him if he didn't know what it was.

Danny closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, hating what he had to do next. But it had to be done.

He walked over and sat down in the chair next to Steve, who looked like he was barely keeping it together. He was hunched over, his face hidden by his still-trembling hands. Even so, Danny could see the anger was gone, replaced by soul-aching grief.

"What do you remember?" he asked as gently as he could.

Steve didn't respond at first, his face still in his hands. Then he dropped them, his elbows on his knees and hands dangling, but remained hunched over. "We were in Shanghai."

"You and Song?" Danny clarified.

Steve nodded, carefully avoiding Danny's gaze as he stared at the floor. "Bert and Ernie, too. We were picking up girls from a building- a brothel or holding cell or something." He paused and sighed heavily. "We paid for them and then took them out to a van."

Then he stopped. Danny waited.

Eventually he started again.

"The local PD busted us, red-handed, loading the girls into the van."

Danny's thought process halted for a moment, shocked at the revelation; then it kicked into overdrive. "Did you get arrested?" he asked. Because a Chinese prison… was that where Steve had been for 19 months? Could it possibly get any worse?

The answer was a resounding "yes".

Steve shook his head. "I flashed him some fake credentials. Then I knocked one of the officers out, took his gun, and shot at the other."

Danny was horrified. "Did you hit him?"

Steve shook his head again. "No. I was just laying down cover fire; just enough to let us get into the van and drive away. That's all I remember."

Danny dug the heels of his hands into his eyes a few times, rubbing them. Then he trailed them up and over his hair as he exhaled.

This was bad.

So very, very bad.

He didn't even know where to start in listing the crimes. Human trafficking. Unlawful imprisonment. Impersonating a police officer. Evading arrest. Impeding an investigation. Assault. Attempted first-degree murder. And those were just some of the American laws. Who knows how many Chinese ones he had broken as well?

But at the moment, he was actually more worried about Steve than the felonies he had committed.

Because his partner, his friend, looked broken; totally and completely broken.

Which just confirmed his position- no matter what McGarrett did, no matter what he remembered, he was not one of the bad guys.

"Look, Steve," he started, looking over at his partner, "that may be what you remembered. And that may even be what happened. But it's not the whole story; there has to be more to it than that. You had to be playing an angle."

"Like what?" Steve replied, still staring at the ground, his face anguished.

Danny shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe you really were working with the Chinese and didn't want to tip your hand yet. Maybe you were deep undercover, working for the Navy-the girls were trafficked by ship and I'm sure that broke at least a dozen naval laws. But at this point, we simply don't know the whole story."

"And we may never know it if I don't remember," Steve pointed out.

"That's true," Danny conceded, keeping his voice calm and reassuring. "But remember what you told me at your house the other night? How you knew your disappearance wasn't my fault?"

Steve looked up and actually appeared to be considering what Danny said for the first time since he snapped out of the flashback. His features relaxed as he remembered the answer.

"Yeah," he said, his voice returning to a more normal level. "I told you I knew because I knew you and I knew me."

Danny nodded. "That's right," he encouraged. "And I'm telling you I know the same way. I know you. And regardless of what you remembered, you are not one of the bad guys. You're just going to have to trust me on that."

Steve seemed to consider that for a minute before he sighed, resigned. "It doesn't seem like I have much of a choice."

Danny smiled thinly. "Then I guess it's a good thing I'm always right."

*H50*

The problem was, Danny wasn't always right.

Sure, he liked to profess and think so and a lot of the time, he was. He was right when it came to choosing what was best for Grace; right to move to Hawaii; right to join Five-0; right to stop wearing those stupid ties.

But sometimes when Danny thought he was right, he wasn't. Not that he'd admit it, mind you. Instead, he'd insist he had been right all along; it was just a question of semantics. Case and point: Kamekona's garlic shrimp. Or he'd say he changed his mind, like with surfing.

But the point was, Danny's judgment, while very good, wasn't as infallible as he claimed. And nowhere was that more evident than in regards to judging character. Because for every Mekka and Nick Taylor, there was a Matty Williams. Granted, Danny's blind trust in his brother had played a large part in his unwillingness to believe he was a criminal, but the truth was, he and Steve were just as close as brothers. And while Steve would like to believe him with 100% certainty, there was still a sliver of doubt.

Because Steve's Swiss cheese memory was feeding him memories that were downright damning. So while Danny's confidence was appreciated and even reassuring on some level, it wasn't completely convincing. Steve couldn't just take his partner's word; he had to know for sure. He wouldn't rest until he knew the truth, even if that truth put him in prison for the rest of his life.

And right now, the only thing standing between Steve and the truth were two doors and Lieutenant Danny Williams.

"I've got to go back in there," Steve told him, rising up off the sofa.

"Whoa, whoa," Danny replied, getting up too, "no, you don't."

"Talking to Song is the only way to find out the truth."

"I know," Danny agreed, "but you're not going back in. We were lucky to get you out of there before Song caught on and we're not going to get that lucky twice. Need I remind you he still hasn't used his phone call? He can have word out to his buddies in two seconds that you've got amnesia and at that point, you're as good as dead."

Steve shrugged. "So we won't give him his phone call."

"I can't hold him in the blue room forever and you know it," Danny countered. "And while the flashbacks are a really good sign your memory will come back, we have no idea how long that will take. It might be days; it might be months. We simply don't know. So right now, our best play is for you to stay out of his sight."

"Then how are we supposed to learn anything?" Steve asked, frustrated, his hands on his hips.

"I'll go talk to him," Danny replied, simply.

"Song already said he'd only talk to me," Steve pointed out.

"Yeah, well, criminals lie."

"So you think you'll just waltz in there and Song will spill his guts?"

Danny shook his head. "Probably not. But he might cough up something. And we'll never know until we try."

Steve scrubbed his hand over his face and sighed. While he wasn't crazy about sitting on the sidelines, it couldn't hurt to let Danny talk to Song. "You'll give me a live feed from your phone?" he asked.

Danny nodded. "Yeah. And Chin and Kono are back," he indicated with an uplift of his head and as he looked through the glass, "so that will give us two extra sets of ears."

"And two more interrogators if Song refuses to talk to you," Steve added.

"Exactly."

*H50*

Thirty minutes later, Chin and Kono were up to speed and Danny's live feed was ready to go.

"I hope this works," Steve said as he watched Danny's back retreat down the hall towards the blue room.

"It's worth a try," Chin commented, looking over at him with a wan smile.

"You want to sit down, Boss?" Kono asked, pointing to the sofa in Steve's office.

Steve shook his head. "No thanks."

He had too much adrenaline to sit down anyway. So instead he leaned against his desk, fidgeting. He stopped once he heard the door open over the feed, which was broadcasting from the speakerphone on his desk.

"What took so long?" Song asked, the humor apparent in his voice.

"I was putting your profile up on Halawa's match dot com site," Danny snarked back.

"Cute. Where's McGarrett?"

"He's screening through the guys who have already expressed an interest in you. You're going to be quite popular over there; I bet your dance card will always be full."

Steve could just hear the smirk on Danny's face through the feed and grinned.

"Yeah, I'll bet that's what he's doing," Song replied, choosing to ignore Danny's remarks about his future popularity.

"So let's talk about what you've been doing- trafficking little girls."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"And those girls we found on your ship?" Danny asked.

"I was holding them for a friend."

Danny chucked humorlessly. "Sure you were."

"If you don't believe me, ask McGarrett," Song replied indifferently; almost confidently.

Steve leaned closer to the speakerphone.

"McGarrett would neverbe involved in this."

"Maybe the McGarrett you know wouldn't be," Song sneered. "But people change, and so did he. At first, he was repulsed. We had to use a little leverage against him and then we still watched him like a hawk. We thought he might try something stupid—try to make a break for it, maybe contact the police or even you. But he never ran off, never picked up the phone to talk to anyone. And over time, he adapted. Hell, he even got to where he enjoyed it."

Steve's stomach dropped and Chin and Kono exchanged nervous glances.

It couldn't be true…

Evidently, Danny agreed.

"He would never help," he said reiterated forcefully. "And he would absolutely never enjoy it."

"Oh, but he did," Song said, the smile evident in his voice. "I think it had to do with a certain little lady who caught his eye. Once he saw her, he got all possessive; wouldn't share her with anyone, wouldn't even let us talk to her. They'd disappear into his room for hours on end and when he came out… well," he paused for dramatic effect, "let's just say he was in a better mood, if you know what I mean."

And Steve had a sneaking feeling he did know what Song meant as he stared off into the distance…

They were all laughing as Steve unlocked the handcuffs from Stickers, Bert, and Ernie's wrists. The girls had already been taken down and secured below deck by the rest of the Chi Long's crew.

Steve handed the car keys to Bert. "Make sure you change the plates," Steve reminded him. Then Bert took off to deposit the van in a warehouse a few blocks away.

Stickers clapped his hand on Steve's back. "I knew you'd come in handy."

Steve grinned. "And I haven't come in handy before? I'm hurt."

Stickers laughed. "Well, maybe once or twice. Why else would the boss give you your own ship and crew?"

"It is better than an employee of the month certificate," Steve acknowledged.

Stickers laughed again. "Go home to your little lady and get some R&R. Same time tomorrow night, we'll pick up your load."

"Tomorrow, then," Steve replied, then hopped off the Chi Long's deck and onto the ship dock. He walked down a few slips and then boarded another ship. The deckhand on duty nodded to him and Steve nodded back before heading below. He stopped and unlocked a steel door before slipping quietly inside.

The light was dim as he looked around the room, with moonlight the only illumination. He was in the Captain's quarters, much bigger than the space allotted to the usual crew. Immediately inside the door was a sitting area, complete with a chair, a small sofa with a throw draped over it, and a flat screen TV mounted on the wall. In the left corner was a two-person breakfast table adjoining a small kitchenette, with dishes stacked on a drying rack beside the sink. On the right wall was a door standing slightly ajar, revealing a bathroom. And against the far wall was a queen size bed, flanked on both sides by nightstands and table lamps. It was a comfortable room, to be sure, one earned by doing one's job well.

Steve made his way to the left side of the bed, which was unmade and lumpy. He drew the duvet back from over the pillow and a head-full of dark, silky hair spilled out. The girl was young—no more than 11—and pretty. She didn't have the pale, malnourished look of most of most of the girls, nor was she dirty; she had obviously been taken care of. She moved slightly, sighing in her sleep as she nestled back into the covers.

Steve smiled and sat down on the side of the bed. He reached over and brushed the girl's hair back from her face as she slept. Then he reached into his pocket and drew out a small package wrapped in white paper and tied with a red satin bow. He set it down on the nightstand beside her and smiled.

"Happy birthday, Qīng Lài," he whispered.

To be continued….