A/N - Please accept the first of my offerings to the DWOCD club.

Chapter 8

Danny was sprawled on the floor, his head ringing. The clap to his ears caused centrifugal force to mess with his equilibrium and left him feeling disoriented and queasy. He managed to pull himself up onto all fours but had to rest and take a deep breath to try to settle his stomach. He had yet to gather the strength needed to lift his head, so he shook it where it dangled from his shoulders. He could hear a voice bouncing around with the echoes in his throbbing head, but he couldn't quite make out the words. Another quick shake helped to sort the confusing noises and he could finally understand.

"Get Up!"

Danny managed to gather enough energy to look up. The first thing he focused on was his own Sig Pro being pointed at him; behind the wildly gesticulating weapon was a red faced young man who seemed to have steam pouring out of his ears. Danny moaned inwardly and shook his head yet again, hoping his vision would clear.

"Are you deaf?"

If Wayne Roesler was going to maintain that volume, Danny thought it may be entirely possible to suffer some hearing impairment. Afraid to speak, as his stomach was still quite busy keeping its contents contained, Danny pulled one hand off the floor and held up a finger, asking for just a moment.

"I said – Get. UP!" A kick to Danny's chest followed the demand.

Swallowing quickly while rolling on his back, Danny just managed to keep his breakfast from reappearing. He had to concentrate on his breathing, keeping it shallow helped with the pain in his ribs. There was a quick jab of a sneakered foot to his shoulder to remind him of his surroundings.

"I won't ask again."

Danny managed to squint out a glare as he looked up from his position on the floor. Wayne Roesler had stepped back. Even if Danny's limbs were co-operating fully, he wouldn't be able to grab any part of the kid before he could get a shot off.

"Are you gonna kick me again, if I roll over to get up?" Danny wheezed, a leery eye on Wayne's feet.

"Just move slowly," Wayne instructed as he took another step back.

With a groan, Danny managed to roll over and then pull himself up onto his feet. The right side of his chest twinged as he finally stood straight, his arm wrapping around his sore ribs. The room was spinning and it took a moment to bring the two Mrs. Salvators into singular focus. She was still sitting where he had left her. The shock of everything she had just seen left her looking almost as dazed as he felt. Danny wanted to comfort her, but didn't want to redirect Wayne's attention, or the gun he was holding, on to her.

"So kid, why don't you tell me your name." Danny recognized Wayne Roesler from the photo Kono had sent but he hoped talking would calm the jittery young man.

"I'm not a kid! You don't need to know who I am!" Spittle flew as Wayne yelled, the hand holding Danny's gun shook with agitation.

Wasn't it just Danny's luck? The crazy kid just wasn't ready to be calmed down. Danny turned his face away from weapon's barrel. At this range, Wayne would guarantee Danny a closed casket service. Then how would his crazy assed partner explain his demise to his beautiful daughter? The knowledge that his partner of only a few months – Neanderthal animal that he was – would in fact be there to help his daughter through the ordeal comforted him, at least a little.

"Wayne Roesler," Mrs. Salvator's voice was weak but she seemed to be pulling herself together. It was also enough of a disruption that the weapon was no longer aimed directly at Danny's head. "His name is Wayne Roesler."

"No!" Wayne yelled out, his aim waffled between Mrs. Salvator and Danny. "No. He does not need to know my name." He took a step towards the old lady, his aim now directed at her chest. "From now on no one speaks unless I say so. You got that?"

Tears began to steadily run down Mrs. Salvator's cheeks as she nodded her understanding, too frightened to speak.

The crying woman seemed to sap some of the anger out of Wayne. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way. I was gonna offer to lock up the office for you, and when you were gone, I just had to find that list with my dad's name on it. It was so simple. Don't you see? It wasn't supposed to happen this way!" Wayne's arms flailed as he begged Mrs. Salvator to see how wrong everything was turning.

Wayne wasn't paying attention, distracted by Mrs. Salvator's tears and his desire for her to understand. He turned his back to the detective as he implored the old lady to believe him. Taking advantage of the distraction, Danny rushed to grab the hand holding the gun. Wayne's reaction time was faster than Danny expected and he couldn't be sure if it was a surprise reflex action or if Wayne actually meant to pull the trigger. The fiery pain in his thigh dropped him to the floor, and left him trying to bring his heaving breaths back under control while his hands groped his bleeding leg.

"What do you think you were doing? Huh?" All of Wayne's attention was back on Danny, the weapon in his hands now held steady. "You are ruining everything!" All of his previous anger returned.

Unable to speak through the pain, Danny could only glare his response.

"Get up and move over there," Wayne used the gun to indicate the chair Danny had been using while searching through the paperwork on Akino Salvator's desk.

"No, you should go," Mrs. Salvator closed her eyes and took a gulp of bravery as she drew Wayne's attention. "Someone would have heard that shot and called the police. You should just go."

Wayne looked between Danny and Mrs. Salvator, every now and again his eyes were drawn to the exit. Shaking his head, he made up his mind. Pointing the gun to Mrs. Salvator he directed her to the door.

"Lock it," he instructed, "And close the blinds." She hurried to do as she was asked. Wayne then indicated for her to sit back down.

"What's the plan?" Danny asked from his spot on the floor.

"You're moving to that chair." Wayne pointed the gun at Danny until, with a groan, he started to shuffle himself across the floor. Wayne stayed a safe distance away and out of reach as he followed the detective.

"Get up."

Danny looked at the chair then back to Wayne. Indicating the injured limb he said, "I'm going to need a little help here."

With a smirk, Wayne shook his head, "Too bad."

With another put-upon sigh, Danny reached for the corner of the desk and managed to lever himself up. He was wobbly on his feet and almost looked forward to taking a seat in the padded chair.

"Take out your handcuffs."

"What?" Danny really didn't want to be stuck in his own cuffs. Back in the bull-pen of HQ, those kinds of stories were almost impossible to live down.

"Handcuffs," Wayne repeated. He seemed to be getting more and more comfortable holding Danny's gun as the Sig Pro no longer wavered in its aim at the center of Danny's chest.

With a resigned sigh, Danny reached into his back pocket and pulled out his handcuffs. He held them out for Wayne to take them.

"Uhn-un," Wayne shook his head, refusing to step closer to the detective. "You're always trying, aren't you? You put them on, just one hand. Then sit your ass down and stick both hands behind the chair."

Danny couldn't help the groan that escaped as he lowered himself onto the chair. He hadn't tightened the cuff around his right wrist, hoping Wayne wouldn't notice as he stuck his hands around to the back of the chair.

Wayne called Mrs. Salvator over, telling her to finish locking the policeman to the chair. Danny hid a small smile as now both cuffs were slack around his wrists. She even went so far as to place a gentle hand on his shoulder as she was ushered past, prodded back towards her seat by the firmly held gun in Wayne's hand. The best Danny could do was a barely perceptible nod of his thanks.

Trust, unfortunately, wasn't one of Wayne's better qualities. After watching Mrs. Salvator settle back into her seat he stepped behind Danny's chair to check the restraints. He slapped the back of the detective's head with the butt of his pistol.

"Always trying," Wayne ground out as he tightened the cuffs almost to the point where they were cutting off the circulation to Danny's hands.

The smack to his head wasn't hard enough to break the skin, but it brought the ringing sensation back and caused the room to start a mild spin. Danny closed his eyes, hoping to keep the nausea at bay.

With the detective restrained, Wayne began pacing but was no longer pointing the weapon at anyone in particular. Mrs. Salvator sniffled quietly before finding her voice to ask if she could help Danny, whose blood was now pooling on the chair.

Wayne paused in his pacing long enough to gauge the health and wellness of the detective. Wanting a closer look, he stepped beside the chair and using the tip of Danny's Sig he prodded the wound on Danny's left leg

Barely containing the grimace of pain, Danny managed to growl out, "Back off!"

Wayne ignored the restrained man and poked once more at the hole in his leg. "An inch more to the right and it wouldn't even have grazed him. He's being a baby; he doesn't need any help."

Danny stared at Wayne in cold incredulity. Sure an inch further to the side and the bullet may very well have missed him, but the muscles with the hole currently running through them spasmed with the reality that a bullet had torn them apart and was now letting his very fine Williams blood drip from where it belonged on the inside to the very undesirable outside of his body.

Mrs. Salvator sided with Danny, "He's bleeding. He needs his leg bandaged before it's too much."

"He wasn't even supposed to be here!" Wayne yelled, the gun aimed at the centre of the tie hanging down Danny's chest. "I had everything planned out. It was so simple. And now this cop is ruining everything!"

"Yeah, blame the cop," Danny muttered under his breath.

Bright red coloured Wayne's features as he spluttered. "Shut up!" With an angry swing, his fist collided with Danny's jaw, "Just shut up!" Wayne stormed to the front of the office, his free hand fisting and unfisting as he tried to control his anger. He stopped at the edge of the window to pry the blinds away and peek out at the boardwalk.

Danny was left blinking his eyes and opening and closing his mouth. He tested his jaw to ensure it wasn't dislocated. It hurt, but it was intact. Keeping one eye closed minimized the amount of spin in the room and Danny was able to find Mrs. Salvator glaring at him from across the room. Even when his partner wasn't around, he was still getting one of his faces. Sometimes life wasn't fair.

Leaning his head back, Danny needed a few moments to gather his waning strength. He'd be thrilled with the sudden appearance of an EMS person armed with a fully stocked med kit. Heck, he'd settle for his crazed Navy SEAL partner holding a syringe of morphine. He tried to take a deep settling breath, but with his arms pulled behind the chair and his ribs still sore from being kicked, it quickly became an effort to find a position to breathe that didn't cause him pain.

Danny's squirming turned Wayne's attention from sneaking looks past the blinds back onto him.

"What are you up to?" Wayne's hold on the Sig only tightened as he carefully circled behind Danny, checking he hadn't managed to loosen the cuffs. "Just sit still." His order was followed by a none-to-gentle slap to the back of Danny's head.

Danny's right hand wanted to rise up to rub at the sore spot, but it could only pull ineffectively on the tight cuffs. "Enough of the head smacking already," he complained.

"Enough of the moving around!" Wayne snarled back. He couldn't settle as he began pacing nervously between Danny and the door, his free hand rubbing along the barrel of the gun.

Danny watched as Wayne wavered between confident and confused. He was worried that things were only going to get worse the longer the boy went without a plan. Looking down to the slowly oozing hole in his thigh, things were already plenty bad.

The uneasy quiet was suddenly pierced by a tinny version of "The Army Goes Rolling Along" coming from Danny's pocket.

"What the hell is that?" Wayne charged to Danny's side, brutally pushing the end of the gun into his shoulder.

"Calm down," Danny wheezed, the force of the gun pushing him sideways in the chair, his shoulder aching from the forming bruise. "It's just my phone."

Using his free hand, Wayne patted down Danny's pockets. Finding the telltale lump he shoved the detective's hip until Danny rolled slightly. The detective was quick to straighten his good right leg, giving better access for Wayne to pull the phone from his pants pocket. Danny could feel the sweat bead around his hairline and upper lip, wanting nothing more than to settle back in his chair and relieve the pressure put onto his bleeding left leg.

Checking the call display before he thumbed the decline button, Wayne asked, "Who the hell is McGarrett? Why'd you give him such a lame ringtone?"

"A friend," Danny wheezed. Resting his head back onto the top of the chair, he wondered how soon before his partner's worry mounted into a request for a search party. There were black dots swirling around the edge of his vision and if he was going to be of any use in his own rescue things needed to happen sooner rather than later.

~TBC~