A/N:

Rough sequel to The Unicorn. No need to read it before reading this. Near the end of The Unicorn story, Steve is captured and tortured for information by a Russian wet works team. There are references to that incident, as well as references to Colonel Thule ("Colonel Idiot"), who frustrated Danny's attempts to rescue Steve. Steve is still recovering when this story takes place, one month later.

This chapter takes place somewhere else in the Islands, not on Oahu. I pictured a small town like Hilo. Steve got into trouble, but I left the details vague. They aren't really important.

We begin with Steve sitting in a local jail in a town on one of the other islands...

…

"Well? Did you learn something?"

"Yeah." Leaning back against the cinderblock wall in the small town's lone holding cell, Steve scowled darkly from under a mess of scars, scratches, and fresh bruises. "Don't piss you off." One hand rubbed absently at his sore leg while he spoke; the other arm was still in a sling. "Don't you have something better to do? Or is gawking what passes for entertainment around here?"

Danny rolled his eyes. Grabbing a chair from the wall, he sat down on the other side of the bars from his partner. "While I appreciate you trying not to piss me off in the future, that's not the lesson you're supposed to be learning today."

"Really? Then what lesson is this supposed to teach me, Danny? Cause that's all I got."

"All you got? Seriously?" Danny had just sat down, but he stood up again and flapped his arms irritably. "You can't think of anything else? No idea why you, I don't know, are in jail?!" he demanded, his voice notching up dangerously.

"No," Steve replied with all the sullen stubbornness of a toddler.

"Okay." Danny glared and went silent, his rant dying on his lips. "Okay," he said again, this time with finality. He smoothed back his hair and shook his head once. Danny knew his partner was expecting a lecture or long-winded speech, but Danny suddenly wasn't in the mood. He was too angry, and he didn't need a mirror to know his face was flushed with an unspoken volume of words. Taking the chair in his hands, he replaced it carefully against the wall and straightened his shirt with an air of dangerous calm. "I guess I'm done here. I'll check back with you in about an hour."

Steve looked surprised, but quickly hid it. "Don't I get a phone call or something?"

"You want a lawyer? Seriously?"

"Do I get a call or not?"

Danny shrugged. "I'm not stopping you." Opening the door to the front of the office, he waved a hand to the desk sergeant. "Wants his call," he said. Stopping, he turned around. "You could just apologize, you know."

Steve glared at him stonily.

"Or not…" Danny sighed.

…

Several hours elapsed before Danny returned, and he was in a much better mood than when he left. He'd gone on a long walk at a furious pace that took him far down the beach until the sand terminated at a spit of volcanic rock. Then he turned up into the hills, his shoes slipping on the dusty, hard-packed red earth until he reached an overlook where he could look down on the crystalline blue bay. Having finally exhausted some of his fury, he spent the rest of the time strolling around town while having a long talk on the phone with Charlie. That call alone had worked wonders, and some of the five-year-old's incessant happiness had rubbed off on him. By two in the afternoon, Danny strolled into the jail with something close to a smile on his face.

"Have a good lunch?" he asked jovially, seeing the food tray on the floor near the cell door. The door to the office was left open, and he could smell burnt coffee and noted a mug on Steve's tray. Generous of them, Danny thought. "I've always wondered how jail food compares to military rations. Want to give me the inside scoop?"

"What do you want, Danny?" Steve asked, apparently in no mood to play.

"I want to know what you've been thinking about for the past few hours."

"You mean aside from my planned escape and your early demise?" Steve growled.

Seeing the desk sergeant in the front room rise in concern, Danny waved him away. "Relax, he's kidding," he called.

"Not really," Steve muttered, just loud enough for Danny to hear.

Danny ignored him. "Care to tell me what you've learned?"

"Not to piss you off."

"That's what you told me before lunch. You seriously can't think of anything else?"

"What can I say? Apparently you're a terrible teacher."

"Normally, I'd try to talk some sense into you, but you know what? Forget it. I've got better things to do than waste my time trying to raise an arrogant, immature man-child. If your own mother and Joe couldn't teach you at least a little respect, then I'm not sure what I can do." Danny felt slightly guilty for dragging Joe White into this, but forged ahead anyway. "I know for a fact if, heaven forbid, Grace were sitting where you are now, she would apologize and make amends, not pout like some sulking toddler with a puffed-up sense of his own self-importance."

If looks could kill, the dark glare Steve shot his direction would have been a death sentence. "Don't bring my mother and Joe into this. And I would apologize, if I had anything to apologize for."

Danny felt almost sorry for him. There was no denying that the entire situation wasn't entirely Steve's fault… accidents and bad luck had certainly played a role. But Steve had also exhibited exceptionally poor judgement, something he just didn't seem to understand, and Danny was tired of trying to explain it to him. In a way, Danny blamed the governor- immunity and means had not done Steve any favors; if anything, it had all gone to his head, drastically warping the former SEAL's perception of reality. "I'll tell you what I told Grace: sometimes you have to apologize anyway, babe," the detective responded. "Even if you're in the right, an apology can still go a long ways toward fixing things."

Steve didn't respond.

Danny stood and stretched, making a point to look wistfully at the sunshine streaking across the floor. If he listened closely, he could hear the ocean crashing against the beach just a few streets away. After a long, rainy Hawaiian winter, it was actually nice to see the sun again. Being stuck inside was probably doubly awful for Steve. "You call a lawyer yet?"

"None of your business."

"Oh, well excuse me for trying to be your friend."

"A friend would've bailed me out of here already."

Danny rolled his eyes and picked up his chair. "Guess I'll let you cool off for another couple of hours," he said, again replacing the chair against the wall. Giving a half-hearted wave to the sergeant at the desk, he walked back out into the sunshine.

…

As the sun set, Danny strolled back in, this time armed with a shaved ice and some take-out from a local hibachi place.

Steve was pacing the floor, but due to his recent injuries, his gait was more of a shuffling limp that sped up and then slowed down as he alternated between angry and exhausted. Danny sized him up. He'd played this 'game' before with Grace, and more recently with Charlie. Danny had the patience borne of fatherhood, entrenched in toddler tantrums and teenage time-outs, but he never expected to go through the same routine with an adult. And yet… here he was. Another long time-out, with a very over-sized toddler. Heaving a deep breath, Danny approached and sat down in his usual seat outside the cell.

"Well?" Steve asked.

Danny frowned, confused. "Isn't that my line?" Pointing at a tray on the floor, he asked, "What'd you have for dinner?"

"A hot dog and potatoes."

"Weird combo," Danny frowned. "Just one hot dog?"

"Yeah." Steve eyed the fogged plastic take-out containers hungrily. "I see you went out."

"Yup. Hibachi," Danny said cautiously. He sensed Steve might be a better mood. Maybe the way to a SEAL's heart was through his stomach? He motioned at the food. "Want me to ask the sergeant if you can have some?"

"No," Steve replied stubbornly, but his eyes said yes.

Danny's mouth twitched. He decided to try for a bargain. "So…ready to apologize?"

"For what?" Steve demanded, any traces of his pliable good mood gone in an instance.

"Oh, I don't know- for blowing up a sacred site?"

"How was I supposed to know that the-"

"And practically destroying a building," Danny interrupted, "and mowing down the 'Welcome' sign just outside the place… and nearly bulldozing the caretaker…"

"Yeah, okay D, whatever. You can stop already. I'll write a check or something." Steve turned away and began fiddling with the straps holding his arm in the sling.

"The governor still hasn't forgotten about last month, either. Or did you forget about a certain 'No Trespassing' sign on a fence at a secret black site installation in Lanikai?"

"I am not apologizing for that," Steve stressed with a suppressed growl.

"Oh, you want to spend more time in here?"

"You can only hold me for 24 hours without charging me, Danny."

"On this island, maybe. But if I still feel like you're a threat to society tomorrow morning, I'll have Duke transfer you to Five-0's basement and you can just cool off there until Chin gets back. And if you think the governor will care about the fact that I've got you locked up, you've got another think coming. In fact, he might just give me a medal."

Steve glowered at him, but Danny could see he'd at least made an impression. "Why wait for Chin?" Steve finally asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Because Chin is less likely to kill you," Danny returned honestly. Injured or not, Steve was wearing Danny's patience thin. "I'll let him and Grover talk some sense into you."

The glare returned.

Danny decided to switch tactics, and he flapped a hand at the cell. "Did you notice there's no sink? And no toilet, except for that drain in the floor. No bed, either, so I hope you like that bench."

"You can't do this, Danny."

"Really? Who's going to stop me?"

"The captain. The desk sergeant."

"I've already got a good excuse to give them. Several, actually." Danny could see Steve's frustration mounting, and so he added in a kinder tone, "You know, I was going to come up with some story about a training exercise gone wrong, something to try to save you some embarrassment."

"Embarrassment? Over what? If those brakes hadn't failed-"

"And if you weren't driving recklessly and well over the speed limit while pursuing what you thought was a stolen car with a convicted felon, without any backup whatsoever… But did you think about any of that? No!" Danny threw his hands in the air. "Did you follow any of the protocols? No! And why not? Because the 'rules' got in your way? Cramped your style? Guess what, Einstein- rules also keep you out of the hospital and out of jail! If you'd just waited an extra freaking ten seconds, none of this would have happened- you wouldn't be here, your arm wouldn't be in a sling, your leg wouldn't be in a boot, Denning wouldn't be all over your case… but noooo. You like to do things the hard way. And heaven forbid you ever thank me for saving you, again."

"You didn't 'save' me," Steve protested, but it sounded weak even to Danny.

"Fine. If you're going to act that way, I'll go back to Plan B: enjoy your hard bench tonight, Steven."

"You'd never get away with it," Steve growled.

"Just watch me," Danny threatened. "I think some time in here would do you some good."

"It wasn't my fault!"

"It's never your fault!" Danny threw up his hands. "That's how we got into this mess in the first place."

"We? Who's we? I'm the one sitting on this side of the bars."

Danny had a great retort on the tip of his tongue, but he suddenly dropped it. Steve had a point. "You're right."

"What?" Steve looked surprised.

Danny sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "You're right. I know life hasn't been easy on you these last few weeks. Stuck behind a desk with all your injuries, not getting cleared for field duty right away, probably in a lot of pain... I know what you went through with that wet work team, and afterwards, I figured you needed some space. I thought I was being helpful. I mean, I tried to be helpful but… I guess I didn't try hard enough."

Steve eyed him warily. "If this is another trick to get me to apologize…"

But Danny had other things on his mind. "I'm going to go make a phone call," he said. "Maybe I can convince them to not press charges."

"That's not going to happen," Steve muttered.

…

Steve didn't ask any questions when Danny returned from his phone call. He didn't need to. One look at his partner's face told him all he needed to know. Or so he thought.

"Well." Danny glanced back at the front room and gently pulled the door to. He paced the floor for a moment, then leaned against the wall. "I've got good news and bad news." He raised an eyebrow and Steve shrugged his response. "Good news first, then. They aren't pressing charges."

That was unexpected. "They're not?" Steve asked in surprise (and, though he tried to hide it, relief).

"Nope."

Some of Steve's recent anger dissipated, and his forehead wrinkled in curiosity. "So what's the bad news?"

"The governor has assured them that he's going to teach you a lesson in protocols."

"What kind of lesson?" Steve asked warily.

"The kind I've been trying to teach you for years- how to play by the rules. And since apparently I'm a 'terrible teacher,' according to you, maybe his lesson will actually stick."

"Danny, what kind of lesson?" Steve growled with a bite of impatience.

It took every ounce of Danny's willpower to not to gloat. He supposed he did feel sorry for Steve… or, at least a tiny part of him somewhere very, very deep down inside felt sorry. Maybe. He waited a few seconds longer, watching with some amusement as Steve began to twitch.

"Danny…"

Danny finally relented. "Denning says you can keep your job and avoid jail time for all the mayhem and destruction if- and only if- you do a full month of community service."

"What?!"

"And you have to check in with me once every day. I've been granted the dubious honor of acting as your parole officer."

"Seriously?"

"And no official business- no gun, no badge…"

"Danny, I can't-"

"Take it or leave it." Danny's tone brooked no argument.

Steve paced the cell, fuming.

Danny waited him out. He noticed the limp seemed to be improving.

Steve finally stopped and whirled around. "One month?"

"Just one."

Steve hesitated, then asked, with dread in his voice, "What kind of community service?"