Of the impressive list Danny mentally compiled of ways he might die (112 to be exact, with 94 of them being McGarrett related), exposure to a nerve agent hadn't made the list. Sarin was what unknown terrorists used in foreign countries no has ever heard of, it wasn't used in civilized worlds. Then again, civilized was a loose term these days. Danny wouldn't have been human if he hadn't considered what his last moments would be like. He hoped he would be able to smile contentedly, knowing he'd done everything he could to make the world safe for his daughter and her children, savor the fact he'd done his best to be a good man, a good human being. Instead, when it felt like the end was near, all he could think about was not being able to breathe.
Waking to find his daughter and best friend strolling into his hospital room, Danny took a second to thank the powers that be, he'd have another chance to get the whole end of his life scenario correct. He vowed to make sure the people in his life knew what they meant to him and to remind them every chance he got and he'd start with Steve. The man had made sure Grace was okay and offered to watch her until Rachel got back. How many work partners would do that? Not many. Danny would rest easier knowing Grace was in good hands.
After Steve left and Grace had outed his predicament to Rachel, Danny dozed while his little girl played quietly on her phone. He woke from a brief nap to find Grace staring at him intently.
"What's with the face, Monkey?" he asked, voice still rough.
Not one to pull punches, Grace asked straight up, "Danno, do you like living here?"
Danny seriously considered his answer before he spoke. Knowing his Grace, she wouldn't accept his normal evasiveness. She was too much like her mother. "I think this place is growing on me. Why do you ask?"
She gave him a sheepish look.
"Grace, you know you can ask me anything, right?" At her slight nod, he continued, "What's on your mind, Monkey?"
"Well, it's just. You don't smell the same," Grace stated as if her father would magically understand.
"I don't smell the same? You're gonna have to help me out here, kiddo. My brain must still be fuzzy."
Grace gave him the look, the one that said 'grownups can be so dense.' "In New Jersey, I could always tell when you were really happy even when you and Mommy were fighting. You were always with me and you always smelled of grease and gasoline. Now when you're with me, you just smell like your aftershave. So are you happy here?"
Marveling at her insight and powers of observation, plus needing a minute to compose his answer, Danny patted the bed by his hip and reached out to his daughter for a hug. When Grace settled in next to him he responded. "Ah, Monkey. I do like living here with you. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. The reason I don't smell like grease is that working with Uncle Steve leaves me with very little free time. What I do get, I want to spend with the prettiest girl on the island. Danno loves you."
"That's good. Love you too, Danno."
Danny silently appreciated the fact Grace was still young enough that all her worries could be so easily assuaged.
She lay quietly in his arms for a moment before she spoke again, "How come you never drive the Mustang anymore?"
Danny wonders how one can be filled with pride and dismay at the same time. He'd truly hoped Grace would be too wrapped up in more feminine affairs to notice the car switch. Apparently, she was just biding time. "I decided the Mustang wasn't right type of vehicle to drive for work," he replied, deliberately being vague.
"That's just silly. The Mustang has a better engine, better maneuverability and more room in the back seat."
All Danny could think was "Sweet Mary, Jesus and Joseph! She did inherit some of my DNA." What he said was, "That's all true, which is why I drive the Camaro or rather Uncle Steve drives the Camaro. I don't want to encourage him to break any more speed limits than he already does."
Grace giggles, "Yeah, he does like to go fast."
Kamekona's arrival provided a good diversion. Danny wasn't up to answering any more of his little girl's pointed questions.
Watching the big guy use his phone to put out feelers to find Sang Min again, Danny wondered when the man would call in his markers. So far their relationship had been a one way street. He didn't have to wait for long. As Kamekona closed the phone he eyed Grace to make sure she was still distracted and then turned to face Danny.
"You sure the little keiki can't hear us?"
Giving Grace the once over, Danny nodded, "I'm sure."
"Good. That's good. I'm always happy to help, Jersey, but I need sometin' this time. I need an invite for two to the opening of the new casino in Reno. Can you get me one?"
To say he was surprised would've been an understatement. "Do I want to know why?"
The bigger man shook his head, "Probably not."
"Okay, I'll see what I can do. Write down where you want it sent," Danny said before his better judgement got in the way. Noticing the pensive look that suddenly adorned the big guy's face Danny asked, "What? What else is there?"
When Kamekona shrugged his whole body got involved, "Nah, it's nothin' brah,"
Knowing, his friend was lying, he pushed, "Spit it out, fridge."
"Word on the street is Chin Ho put his house up with Markham to get the money for his little trouble," the Samoan muttered.
Danny took a deep breath and flopped his non tethered hand over his eyes. "I figured he'd done something stupid and, wow, the coconut wireless works fast."
Kamekona's head bobbed in agreement. "You know, Jersey, no one in the family has that kind of money. Too bad there isn't someone who can help the bruddah out."
Danny pulled his hand away from his face and leveled his gaze at his friend. "Ohana doesn't always involve DNA."
It took him a moment to decipher the meaning behind Danny's statement, when he did, his grin almost split his face in two. "Thanks, brah," Kamekona gushed, slapping a big paw down on Danny's bump knee. Danny couldn't hide the wince. Kamekona grinned, told Grace good-bye and ambled out of the room.
Danny had Grace grab the generic hospital bag that held all of his person affects he'd had on him when he was admitted. Pulling out the phone, he paused then started dialing. For the first time ever, Turk used his main phone to call one of the gang. Out of all of them, he was the only one to have a separate number for speaking to them, then again he was the only cop out of eleven. Reuban was all too eager to help him out, but not before the mandatory chit chat. That's how the entire gang found out he'd been poisoned but would live.
Sending Grace and Rachel to the beach without him left him a bit unsettled, but he needed to get back to work for many reasons. He missed the camaraderie of the team and needed the distraction to keep him from analyzing his redeveloping relationship with Rachel. Three days of self-reflection was three days too many. The last thing he expected on his first day back was to be pointing a gun at the very man who was the catalyst for his sick leave.
They grilled Sang Min again, but it didn't take the seventy-two hours from before. The scumbag sang like the proverbial canary. They were done by lunch time. Steve suggested ordering in so they could get a head start on the paperwork. Danny readily agreed.
Pushing open the doors to the war room both men stopped abruptly at what greeted them. Kono and Chin were walking around a very large shipping crate sitting in front of the tech table. It looked big enough to hold a casket, except that it was sitting upright.
Steve was the first to break, "What the hell is that?"
Kono stopped her inspection to answer, "Have no clue, boss. Special courier brought it in about an hour ago. It's addressed to Danny."
Danny shook his head in what he wanted the others to think was surprise rather than the sinking dread he was really feeling. "Addressed to me?" he squeaked out.
"Yes," Kono replied, her tone conveying the standard 'what are you, an idiot, that's what I said' without using the words. Rachel often used the same tone near the end of their marriage. Not a memory Danny wanted to recollect.
"Well, let's see what's in it, Danno," Steve demanded sounding more enthusiastic then Danny felt.
Chin handed him a card. "This came with it."
Obviously Danny was taking too much time opening the card because Steve piped up, "It's not a bomb, Danny. Open the damn card."
Danny had yet to find his words for this situation so he followed Steve's instructions. The quality of the stationary reeked of Reuban. Shit, this wasn't going to be good. He pulled out a single sheet of expensive, slightly tacky letterhead, reading the words silently. His partner, being his nosy self, read aloud over his shoulder, "Glad you're still among the living. This should keep you safe the next time. Always, D, R, L, R, V, L, B, S, and Yen. P.S. Take better care, ass hat!"
It took all his concentration not to let out the groan rising in his chest. Danny could only stare in horror at the box now.
Steve, ever observant, noticed, "You wanna tell us who all those initials are, Danny?"
"Uh, no, not really," he thought. Out loud he said, "Uh, it's just the guys from my old precinct. They have peculiar sense of humors."
Steve looked like he was going to say something more, but changed his mind and headed for his office. He was back in twenty-seconds with a crowbar. Danny wanted to ask why the man had a crowbar in his office, but Steve preempted him, "Well, open the thing up, partner. I could use a good laugh."
Knowing there was no way he'd get out of not opening the crate in front of his friends, Danny strode over and shoved the bar into the crack between the lid and the box. It took less effort than he expected to pry off the lid and put him on the road to extreme embarrassment. All three of his supposed friends silently took in the contents of the box before breaking down into gales of laughter. The sight of a mannequin, sculpted to look like Danny, dressed in a full biohazard suit complete with oxygen tank and Geiger counter standing in the middle of the crate, while tucked around the edges were at least 3 dozen plastic flowers with 2 gallons of hand sanitizer on each side, was too much for them. Kono had tears in her eyes, Chin was biting his fist and Steve was on his knees holding his sides. The jerks!
Chin Ho was still laughing about the Danny mannequin when he arrived home. He almost missed the package sitting next to his front door. Bending down to pick it up, he figured it was standard mail, but wouldn't fit in the mailbox. He went to throw it on the table, planning on opening it up after he'd had a shower, when the return address caught his eye, MARKHAM, no street address. Carefully pulling at the seam, he let the contents spill onto the table. It was the deed to his house with a note attached. "Debt and Interest paid in full. Pleasure doing business with you. In the interest of self-preservation, I ask that you don't contact me again."
Chin was confused; he hadn't had time to return the money yet. The team had been too busy with the Sarin incident. He called the one person he thought would know what was going on.
"Hey, Chin, what's up?" Steve answered on the first ring.
"Steve, you didn't, uh, you uh."
"Chin, what's wrong?" Steve questioned, concern weighing his tone.
"I just got home and found a package on my doorstep. It's the deed to my house."
"Wow, that's fast. Nice to know Markham's a trustworthy bookie," Steve joked.
Chin sighed, "Steve, I haven't had time to get the money back. I didn't pay off my debt." Steve's silence was hard to read so he pushed ahead, "You didn't pay it by chance, did you?"
"No, Chin. It wasn't me. I haven't had any more free time than you."
"Well, if you didn't, then who the hell did?" Chin asked, dumbfounded.
Steve took a minute to reply, "I got nothing. Do you think maybe Kono?"
"She doesn't access to that amount, not even if the whole family pitched in."
"Can you contact Markham. Find out who did?"
Chin laughed, "I could, but on his statement, he politely tells me not to."
"I could do it for you," Steve offered. "I'd like to know myself." The underlying tone in his voice told Chin he wasn't happy that someone had this kind of personal information about his team.
"I think you should. Let me know," Chin replied.
Steve didn't waste any time after hanging up. He was halfway to the bookie's house before he remembered he'd left dinner in the microwave. Ah, well, he'd pick something up on the way home.
It took two rings for Chin to pick up. "Steve, you get any answers?" he asked in lieu of a proper greeting.
"Nah, man. The guy's good. Gave me some crap about an anonymous drop with a note and then kindly asked me to leave."
"He didn't read the name on the cashier's check?"
"Chin, the entire amount was paid in cash, to the last penny with interest."
"What the hell," Chin exclaimed.
Steve was just as puzzled. Neither man wanted to admit they'd hit a dead end, but both knew that unless Markham talked, they'd get nowhere. Not happy, they agreed to let the matter drop and Chin would take the cash he had and donate it to a local charity in his auntie's name.