A/N: He got a job! Thanks for the prayers. This chapter is short, sorry.

…

Stunned, Danny stared at the new weapon in his hands, not quite believing it. He felt dizzy and his heart pounded madly as his brain rushed to catch up. In a matter of seconds, the tables had turned, and he suddenly felt that there might the faintest chance that he might not die in this godforsaken church in the jungles of Manoa Valley after all.

There was no way to check the magazine or the chamber silently, so Danny contented himself with the weight and feel of the weapon, that it was loaded and seemed to be in the same condition as when Foster had first taken it. Still… there was no way to be sure. Adjusting his position in the dark, Danny took aim at the man called 'Scott'… and waited.

Foster and Scott were speaking together quietly, standing over Steve's prone form lying in the dirt. A few faint words reached Danny's ears and he perked up curiously.

"… didn't give me much to work with…" Foster spoke, voicing the same annoyance Danny had overheard earlier, up in the sanctuary. "…starved… nearly dead."

In response, the other man kicked Steve suddenly in the side, eliciting a sharp groan as the fallen man curled up protectively. From his hiding place, Danny cursed silently.

"Seems pretty damn alive to me."

Their voices dropped again, and the conversation died to a low murmur.

Then Foster walked across the room to the bag of water bottles and called over his shoulder, "What'd you have against him, anyway?"

"McGarrett is the reason I was behind bars," Scott replied with a scowl. "His father put me there, and his son made sure I stayed."

Danny listened intently. Foster asked a question- Danny couldn't quite make out what it was- and Scott answered with a short, barking laugh.

"His dad was a cop. Didn't know that, did you? That's right, Junior here," Scott paused to give Steve another dig with the toe of his boot, "is following in his daddy's footsteps." He marched over to the corner, seized a water bottle from the bag, and took a long drink. The rest he took back to Steve and poured it out slowly on Steve's face with a hideous scowl. Steve twitched but otherwise did not move. Scott crumpled the empty bottle and tossed it in the corner. "When my parole came up, it was right after the elder McGarrett had been shot. I thought I might actually stand a chance for once. With him out of the way, the parole board could stop their stupid bowing and scraping and maybe actually listen to me for once. Instead, guess who showed up at the hearing?"

Scott sucked a wad of phlegm and spit on the prone form lying at his feet. Danny fumed, but did not move from his hiding spot. Foster was leading the conversation, and now Danny understood why: Foster needed a confession as much as Danny did, or else he could face additional jail time. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay put. Wait for it, Williams, he coaxed. Wait…

"This McGarrett had some papers his dad had left behind," Scott continued. "Parole board took one look and sent me right back to prison." He chuffed mirthlessly. "Never caught a break with either of them."

Foster spoke again, in softer tones. "So that's why you… fifteen years…?"

They paced together across the room, Foster trailing the other, clearly aware of Danny's line of fire, but Danny wasn't yet willing to take the shot. He wanted to know more, needed to know more.

Scott grunted and bobbed his head in response to Foster's question. "Like I told you back then, I play the long game, and I play to win."

"You almost 'won' too soon," Foster said, sounding petulant.

Scott stopped his pacing and turned to face him. The flashlight cast two long shadows in Danny's direction. "You're really hung up on that, aren't you? I didn't kill him; just… softened him up some."

"For three days?"

"Was it just three days?" Scott grinned. "Time really does fly when you're having fun."

Danny's stomach soured in disgust.

"Well? Do I get my turn now?" Foster asked.

"I don't know. It's been a few days since I dragged him in here, and that took some effort. Not sure if I'm really done…" Reaching into his pocket, Scott pulled out a pocket knife, opened it up, and reached down toward Steve.

Danny had seen enough. Deciding he had about as much of a confession as he was going to get, he rose from his hiding place and emerged from the darkness.

"Five-0," he called out.

Scott's head snapped in his direction.

"Scott Agaran, drop the knife, you are under-"

A shot rang out, Scott drawing his gun faster than Danny could see in the dim light, and the wood step behind Danny splintered suddenly. Danny cursed and returned fire as he ducked, his own bullet going wide when Scott threw himself to the side and rolled behind the lone, wooden pillar. Danny raised his weapon again but was bowled over by Foster making a hasty retreat. Two more shots chased Danny as he scrambled backwards in the dirt and threw himself behind the stairs, where he lay still, panting.

A loud thumping overhead startled him. Foster's footsteps faded as they moved toward the rear of the church, then completely disappeared. Danny peered out through the slats of his meager shelter. The flashlight, still hanging from a hook in the center of the room, cast a weak, trembling light over the scene, and to the left, slumped against the wall and completely exposed and unprotected, Danny saw his partner.

He cursed.

Nothing in life was ever easy.

…

At least Scott hadn't thought to shoot at Steve… yet.

Danny squinted at Scott's position, but the dim light from the flashlight worked against him as he scanned up and down the wooden post for a viable shot. He edged carefully sideways, trying to bring more of the man's figure into view. "Scott Agaran!" he called again. "Toss out the gun and come out with your hands up!"

Another wild bullet struck a dirt wall. Danny returned fire twice. He missed the first completely, and the second struck the wood pillar, but his actions had at least forced Scott to change positions, directing the ex-con toward Danny and away from his partner.

Danny fired another two round for good measure, deliberately placing the bullet in the wall to coax Scott further, then darted across the basement toward Steve's body and pressed himself against the dirt. Thanks to the dim lighting, Scott didn't seem to notice. Danny could see Scott clearly now, the convict's face turned away from the pair and toward Danny's last known position.

Danny reached down a hand to check Steve's pulse. It took a moment, but then he felt, to his great relief, a slow throbbing under his fingertips.

Danny lined up his next shot, but he didn't take it… not yet. The lighting was poor, the shadows heavy, and he and Steve were completely exposed. If he missed, it would put them both at terrible risk. He needed to move, to somehow come around completely behind Foster, if possible, and keep Steve from being an accidental casualty.

At his feet, Steve began to stir. Danny glanced down and saw in dismay his partner's fingers twitching and his mouth opened and closed in short gasps, uttering unspoken words. Holding his breath, Danny reached down with one hand and gently laid a finger across the SEAL's mouth, praying Steve would understand. In the quiet basement, he felt sure Scott would hear them, and yet the convict still faced the other direction, apparently thinking Danny was still sequestered under the stairs. Normally, Danny was a good shot, but he knew this was one shot he couldn't afford to miss. The next time that he pulled trigger, it needed to be final.

Taking a breath, Danny straightened up and ran across the room, rapidly closing the distance. The damp dirt muffled his footsteps, but Scott somehow sensed his approach. The ex-con turned, his weapon swinging around in Danny's direction.

Danny could wait no longer. He pulled the trigger.

Two shots rang out.