Longer chapter today :o) Thanks again for all your reviews! It's good knowing you're all enjoying this! Bryce x
Charlie Fong stood up in his forensic crime lab when Kono and Catherine walked in. The concerned expression on the two women's faces was identical, and the criminologist sighed knowing that the news he had on the DNA results of the blood found on the Aigle De Mer was not going to be what they wanted to hear.
The news even shocked him to the core.
"Charlie?" Kono prompted.
"The lab results on the bloody shirt you found on the boat... It doesn't belong to either McGarrett or Danny..."
Dual sighs of relief sounded in the busy lab, only to be short lived-
"But, the blood on the boat does belong to Danny."
"Oh God," Kono breathed, her hand flying up to her mouth. She blinked. "But we checked all the hospitals, medical centres... "
Cat frowned. "Did you run the blood on the shirt through CODIS?"
"I did, no hits," Charlie answered.
"What about fingerprints on the boat?" Kono asked.
"Yes, we got a latent print off the boat's boarding ladder. Came back to a guy named Gil Scates."
"Thanks, Charlie," Kono nodded reaching for her cell.
"Let me know when you find them?" Charlie said worriedly. The amount of blood on the boat that belonged to Detective Williams was frightening. He watched as Kono nod again, cell to her ear, before she and the Lieutenant hurriedly left.
"Chin, that blood on the boat? It's Danny's."
Five-O HQ
"Does Gil Scates have a record?" Kono asked Chin as they stood around the smart table.
"Nope. Gil Scates worked with Safehouse Security as a security guard," Chin replied. "So I contacted the company and I found out that he was recently terminated for improper conduct."
Kono touched the screen, twisted the image of Scates around and stared at it. This was the man that had probably hurt Danny.
"Hey, we'll find them, cuz, they'll be alright," Chin said softly. She looked up and bit her lip, glanced at Catherine before nodding.
They'd find them and they would be alright. They had to be.
H-5-0
Making sure that Danny didn't fall asleep on him, Steve kept him busy with small tasks and a constant drone of chatting.
"...so then Kono challenges Chin at Halo on the Xbox!" Steve chuckled tugging at something in the engine.
"I bet Kono blew him outta the water."
"New high score. Chin's still demanding a rematch."
"That's funny... I'd like to see that," Danny nodded and sighed, blinking slowly.
Steve smiled, leaned over and handed him a piece of tubing. "Do me a favour, hold that."
"Lemme ask you a question," Danny said looking at the dirty tube in his hand.
"What?"
"Can you actually fix this, or is this, uh, more busy work, like bailing?"
Shit. He forgot Danny could read him that well. "What did I say to you? I'm... I'm doing my best. I gotta figure out why both of the water intake lines have failed, causing the engines to overheat. I... I, I don't understand."
Looking around, Danny shrugged, "Expensive boat."
"Yeah," Steve agreed. "It's got all the bells and whistles, but sometimes these new propulsion engines—they can be tricky, y'know?" He blew out a breath knowing that fixing the boat might actually be beyond his capabilities. "Did you, uh, take a look at the guy's wallet I gave you?"
"Yeah," Danny nodded and touched the leather item by his side. "His name is Al Burgess. Boat registration is in his name, too."
Hopping up, Steve grabbed a water bottle and sat by Danny, urging the man to take some more of his own. "Alright. I don't think we're dealing with a master criminal here," he mused thoughtfully. "I got two slugs lodged in the wall..."
"The shooting was sloppy," Danny stated.
"You think it was self defence then?" asked Steve, always curious to how Danny came to his conclusions. He was very good at what he did.
"Maybe. I'm thinking, uh, he gets cold feet, he starts to shoot impulsively. Then he realises he actually has to finish the job," he said, his hand moving along with his thought process. "Does. Comes out here... tries to get the boat running, panics when it won't start... jumps in the dinghy, doesn't realise how far out he is."
Steve was impressed. It sounded plausible. "Yeah. He runs outta gas. Before he knows it he's in trouble."
"Yeah, then he sees us, says 'bing, perfect, I'm saved. All I gotta do is take these guys' boat.'"
Steve decided that when he got his hands on the bastard that had taken their boat and shot Danny, he was going to kill him, slowly. He frowned hard thinking of the day's events and took another drink.
"Hey, what time is it?" Danny asked, rubbing his hand over his mouth.
Looking at his watch, Steve's brows rose. It was only early evening; it felt like a lot later than that. "Nearly eighteen hundred."
"Six o-clock, Steven, for those of us not of the army persuasion." He grinned when Steve opened his mouth to correct him.
"Shut up," Steve rolled his eyes. Glancing up at the sky he could tell that night was fast approaching. Give it another hour and the sun would be gone in a blaze of red and gold – a beautiful display that any other time Steve would love to sit and enjoy with his best friend. Now though, the prospect of drifting, stranded on a boat with Danny injured and in urgent need of medical care, filled him with stone cold fear.
"Gonna be dark soon," Danny muttered. He looked pointedly at the open engine hatch. "So, Steve. We getting out of here before Hanukkah or what?"
H-5-0
Chin kicked the door of Gil Scates's apartment open and stormed in, announcing himself clearly, Kono and Cat following closely behind. The place looked lived in and messy, with dirty plates in the kitchen and an unmade bed, but nobody was home though, apart from a caged parrot.
The team quickly busied themselves searching for clues as to what Scates was doing out on the ocean, and learned that the man had been researching luxury yachts and one type of thirty eight foot craft in particular. But after sifting through the piles of letters and utility bill notices on the table, they realised that he was actually months behind on his rent, and had money issues, so there was no way that he could afford to buy such an expensive boat.
That told the Five-0 team Scates had planned to steal one, and taking the fishing boat must have meant that McGarrett and Danny had interrupted Scates's plans because the Aigle De Mer was obviously a step down from a luxury yacht.
What the hell had happened out there on the ocean?
H-5-0
Placing his palm against his friend's face, Steve sighed at the unnatural heat he registered. It had been forty minutes since Danny had lost his battle to stay awake, passing out cold, and no amount of cajoling had roused him. Steve had occupied himself making the man more comfortable and trying to cool the burning skin, whilst keeping an eye on Danny's shallow breathing and fast pulse. It was all he could do. The engines were seized beyond repair, the radio busted... he was helpless to do anything to get them home. There was nothing on the boat that he could use. At all. No tools, no emergency kit, not even life jackets or flares. Al Burgess kept a poorly stocked yacht. It really frustrated Steve that after all his training, all his experience as a Navy SEAL, it was a luxury yacht that had apparently proved to be his Achilles heel. Life certainly threw some strange curve balls, and this was a doozy. His one regret was that he'd damned his friend with his failure, too.
He soaked the cloth he'd been using to wipe Danny down with water again and pressed it to the man's neck and chest, mindful of the tender sunburn. His own skin stung and prickled irritably, but he pushed the discomfort aside and concentrated on his partner, (something his SEAL training was good for, he thought sullenly). The sun was setting now, casting golden shadows across the deck, and Steve could already feel the air temperature dropping, which he grimly thought was a good thing because at least it would help him keep Danny's fever under control.
Danny had done well to stay awake for as long as he did, since taking the bullet to his shoulder early that afternoon. Steve had to admit that he'd been frantic with worry when towing the dinghy, and not just because of the possibility (which turned into a reality) of a shark encounter, but also because he'd been scared to leave Danny alone for so long. The relief he felt when Danny had been aware to warn him when the Tiger Shark had appeared had been enormous.
The relief, though, soon turned back into fear as the minutes ticked by and they were no nearer being rescued or finding a way to get home.
Stirring slightly, the injured man in question sucked in a breath when the cool cloth hit his chest again, moaning softly as he shivered.
"Danny?"
Sluggishly raising his hand, Danny tried to bat whatever was on his chest away, ineffectually flapping weakly at Steve's wrist. He rolled his head to one side and blinked, trying to focus on the blurred, swirling images above of him, and gasped when Steve's face suddenly became clear, and appeared mere inches from his own.
"Shit," he hissed, jerking back a fraction. "Have we... not t-talked about... personal space before, Steven?"
Not able to stop the grin forming, Steve found himself nodding, but he didn't lean back. He was absurdly happy to just hear his friend complain again. "Yes, we have, Danny."
"Then, would you mind... not invading... mine, you goof?" Danny asked pointedly, his tone lacking the energy his words commanded. Steve, however, moved back. "Thank you."
"How are you feeling, Danny?"
"Like I was shot," Danny mumbled softly. He awkwardly tried to get his right arm under his body to sit back up, but his body just felt heavy and uncooperative. "Help me up."
Steve frowned and instantly tried to reason, "Ah, really think you should lay still, y'know, having been shot." He was worried the wound would reopen and start bleeding again.
"Yeah, maybe... but I wanna... sit up. Now, either help me or... move," Danny huffed trying once more to push himself up.
"You know, you're one stubborn bastard," Steve muttered with a scowl, but he looped his arm around Danny's back and carefully sat him up against the side of the boat, steadying him when he closed his eyes and started listing slightly to one side. "Seriously, Danny, I don't think this is a good idea."
"Says you," Danny argued, although for a moment he wondered if Steve did have a point when his head swam at the movement. But his butt was numb and his impromptu nap had replenished a little of his energy, and he wanted to sit up, damn it! He blew out a shaky breath as the dizzy spell that nearly overwhelmed him tapered off, and opened his eyes, squinting up at Steve. "What's with the, uh, face?"
Steve scrubbed a hand through his hair and looked up to the heavens.
"What? Am I dying or something?"
Snapping his head back so fast Danny feared a whiplash, Steve shook his head shocked. "What? No! No, you're not dying!"
"Then what?" Danny asked again, a little nervous at the self-flagellation thing Steve apparently had going on. He'd never seen the big, badass SEAL looking so defeated, and it scared him.
Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, Steve bit hard at his lip and admitted, "I can't get us home, Danny. Put me in the middle of a war zone with bullets flying and enemies trying to kill me from all sides, and I'll get out without a scratch!" He screwed up his face. "But this... I'm sorry, man. I should be able to fix the fucking boat, but I... I can't, Danny, I can't."
"Hey, hey... It's not your fault, babe. It's that motherfucker who took our boat's fault." Danny, hand on his shoulder, carefully leaned forward and caught Steve's eyes with his own. "You listening to me? It's not your fault, Steve. You're a Navy SEAL, not a boat mechanic. I mean, did they teach you to strip down luxury yacht engines and put them back together? Huh? Fucked Up Propulsion Engines 101, maybe?"
"Well, SEALs-"
"I'm not talking about emergency repairs in a combat situation on a super stealth SEAL gunboat here. I'm talking about expensive, tricky, seized propulsion engine issues," Danny interrupted. He knew Steve was pretty good with his hands and engines (the Marquis in his garage at home proved that), but regardless of what the Super SEAL thought, he wasn't Superman.
The words, bitter and harsh with his failure as they were, sank in as Steve saw the truth in them. Yes, he knew his way around a nautical motor, but propulsion engines were another level of skill he had yet to master, and it was now on his list!
"Alright, babe?" Danny said quietly seeing the toll the day had had on his friend in the shattered weary slump of his body. He reached out his hand and wrapped cool fingers around Steve's wrist. "We'll make it. Think about it," he prompted, "Nice, expensive boat like this, dead man in the cabin... someone's bound to notice something's amiss at some point, right?"
Lifting an eyebrow, Steve blinked at his partner. Once again the man had shown exactly why he was a damned fine detective... and a very good friend. He covered Danny's hand on his wrist and squeezed gently, a small smile smoothing some of the exhausted lines away.
And as if by some miracle, magically conjured up with those optimistic words, the distant sounds of an engine drifted towards them on the wind. Steve's eyes widened and he looked out to sea, scrambling to his feet when his keen gaze picked out the lights of a boat fast approaching them.
"Yes!" he shouted, waving his arms. "Hey, over here! It's the coastguard, Danny!"
"About time," Danny grinned, the heavy feeling of hopelessness finally lifting leaving him almost giddy with relief. He watched Steve from his spot on the deck and rolled his eyes at the SEAL practically dancing from foot to foot. He envied his energy, to be honest!
"Hey!" Steve shouted again, turning to his friend, huge relieved grin on his tanned face.
"What did I tell you? Trust me!" Danny smiled back.
"Prepare to be boarded, stand down."
The order sounded clear and precise, and was wholeheartedly welcomed.
"Okay," Danny answered as they were boarded by the coastguards, grinning along with Steve who'd moved to the side to give them room.
"My partner is injured, he needs medical attention," Steve said quickly, starting to head towards Danny. A gun aimed at him immediately stopped his movement.
"Interlace your fingers and put your hands behind your head," the armed coastguard instructed him.
"Oh no, we're, uh, Five-O," he told them calmly watching one man disappear into the cabin. Danny nodded in agreement.
"We're cops."
"Show me your badges." Oh, now that actually posed as a problem and both Danny and Steve exchanged a quick resigned look.
"We don't have our badges with us," the SEAL explained. The coastguard chose to err on the side of caution and continued to point his weapon at Steve and Danny.
"Yeah, get your hands behind your head now."
Danny made a show of pointing out that he was one armed right then and lifted his right arm to his head. "Okay."
Steve raised both his. "Okay, alright."
"We've gotta dead body below deck, sir," the man from the cabin appeared and reported grimly. Wide, alert eyes stared hard at two men with their hands up.
"I can explain that," Steve said futilely.
Expecting such a comment, the coastguard ignored it. "You're under arrest. Anything you say can and will be used in against you in a court of law..."
"We know," Steve winced as his hands were dragged down and cuffed behind him.
"Okay," Danny nodded and held up his right arm for the cuffs being brought for him.
"We know our rights," the partners finished together.
"Hey, careful, man," Danny yelped as his wrists were bound in front of him, the sharp movement aggravating his shoulder. Steve's head instantly snapped around and he scowled hard when he saw Danny being unceremoniously pulled to his feet.
"Hey, he's injured, watch what you're doing!"
"S'okay, Steve... jus' let's go home, a'right?" Danny muttered tightly, his jaw grinding in reaction to the renewed pain. He stumbled, leaning heavily against the man helping him onto the rescue launch, (which wasn't easy with the tandem rocking the boats were doing on the waves!), and ignored the worried looks Steve was throwing him until he was deposited on a thin bench, that could've been a bed, it was hard to tell with his vision suddenly acting like one of Gracie's psychedelic kaleidoscopes.
"Hey, Danny, you okay?" Steve asked, his tone laced heavily with concern. "C'mon, partner, open your eyes here..."
"Can you tell me your name?"
Danny blinked his eyes open, startled at the strange voice, and unfamiliar face suddenly very near to him. "Ow, fuck!"
"Jesus, take it easy, will ya?" Steve shouted at the medical officer prodding not-so-gently at Danny's injured shoulder. He took a mental note of the man's name badge, 'Kayl Pula ', because he was going to be very sorry for causing Danny more unnecessary pain.
"This looks like a gunshot wound, a through and through," Pula helpfully supplied. He looked down at Danny. "Were you shot?"
Rolling his eyes, Danny hissed through grated teeth, "You're filling me with all sorts of confidence in your medical knowhow. What do you think, huh? Yes, I was shot!"
"Well, it looks infected, and you're dehydrated. Your injury looks stable, so to avoid possible complications, I'm going to leave it until we dock." He turned to Steve who was seething in the corner of the room, guarded by two men. "You cleaned the wound?"
"Yes, I did, now would you stop fucking around and help my partner?" Steve growled.
"Steve. Not. Helping," Danny yelped again when the medical officer abruptly slapped a cold alcohol wipe across the back of his hand. He pulled his arm away as far as the cuffs would let him and glared up at Pula, who annoyingly just glared back at him.
"I need to get an IV situated, so I can push fluids, painkillers and antibiotics into you," he explained with a barely forced patience.
Danny narrowed his eyes and glared harder. "Yes, I understand that, but your bedside manner leaves much to be desired."
"I apologise, but you-"
"I am Five-O... Detective Danny Williams. That's my partner, Lt. Commander Steve McGarrett, who incidentally, is a Navy SEAL and probably knows seventeen ways to kill a man with a spork-"
"Eighteen, actually," Steve stated darkly.
"Sorry, eighteen ways, and pissing him off isn't a good idea. Now, set up your IV, but please do it gently. I'm human, I feel pain. Okay?" Danny finished wearily. Pula looked at Steve, who flashed him an intimidating snarl, and quickly, carefully placed the IV into the back of Danny's hand.
"Thank you," Danny breathed, wincing at the sting of antibiotics being introduced into his veins. The medical officer disappeared after a moment and left them alone with their silent chaperones. Steve moved into Pula's place and sat by Danny's bed.
"You doing okay, buddy?"
"Hmmm," Danny sighed, the strong painkillers beginning to have a welcomed effect. He tipped his head to one side and looked at the two men watching them closely, rolling his eyes. "This is awesome. What else wrong do you think could happen?" he asked Steve. "Maybe if we're lucky, they'll have a trial at sea, and they'll make us walk the plank."
"Just relax," Steve urged, hearing the slurred quality of Danny's voice; the man sounded stoned.
"Hey, there aint' gonna be too many more relaxes, okay?" Of course, like a red rag to a bull. Steve just sighed.
"Look at it like this: you're gonna have a great story to tell Grace one day." Because Steve was sure Grace would find this whole stupid adventure hilarious; apart from the whole shooting thing, that is.
Danny frowned in thought for a moment before answering, "And the moral of that story is this: never go deep sea fishing... with a Navy SEAL. No, no, scratch that... Never go fishing with you." He chuckled to himself, amused at his own words and the feigned hurt look on Steve's face.
"Should've used you for bait," Steve bitched back fondly.
The door to the room opened and the captain walked in, immediately reaching to uncuff his guests. "Sorry for the misunderstanding Commander McGarrett, Detective Williams, a member of your team verified your credentials."
Blinking slowly, Danny rubbed his now freed hand over his face. "Well, next time I get forced into the ocean at gunpoint, I'll be sure to have my credentials," he mumbled before his eyes closed and he gave into the strong medication.
Steve made sure his partner was alright and then turned to the captain, the commander in him now in full control. "Captain, the yacht—was it reported stolen?"
"Missing. The owners wife called, worried, when her husband hadn't returned."
"Huh, maybe it had something to do with him being shot," Steve muttered tersely.
"Again, I apologise. There's been a rash of boat-jacking's lately. We suspect Tongan pirates, so as soon as we got the call about the boat, we just figured they were behind it," the captain explained.
"Ah, this guy was working alone." It wasn't Tongan pirates.
"Soon as we return to port, we're going to hand this investigation over to your team, okay?"
"I appreciate it," Steve said and shook the captain's hand. "Thanks."
The captain and the two crewmen left Steve alone to sit with Danny, who was at last, resting peacefully. He drank down the rest of the water he'd been given and scrubbed fingers roughly through his hair as the day washed over him, from the excitement of reeling in that tuna to shock of Danny being shot, the shark encounter... the despair of not being able to fix the situation and get Danny home sooner... It all snowballed into a headache of menacing proportions and Steve rubbed hard at his temples trying to get it under control.
"Are you alright, Commander?" Pula asked quietly as he entered the room to check on his patient.
"Yeah, just a headache."
"You're still a little dehydrated, sir, maybe an IV-"
"No," Steve declined. "Just find me some Tylenol and I'll drink more water." An IV might result in a forced hospital stay, and Steve had an investigation to conduct. Pula handed him the pills and two more bottles of water, watching him as he swallowed them. Steve nodded his thanks. "How is he?"
"Detective Williams is doing surprisingly well," the medical officer replied taking Danny's wrist and silently counting his heart beats. "His stats are steady, pulse is stronger; he seems to be reacting well to the antibiotic treatment." The man stuck a tympanic thermometer in Danny's ear and smiled when it beeped. "Temperature is down, too. One oh one point two."
Relief spread through Steve at that news and he nodded his thanks to the medic.
"We'll be at the South Shore in thirty minutes. I have an ambulance waiting for you both once we're docked. The captain has also informed your team, sir, and they'll be there, too."
"Thank you," Steve said and sat back to let the Tylenol work, finishing off the water. "You hear that, Danno? We're nearly home."
H-5-0