Sorry for the wait for the ones that still read this.

Danny woke up sitting in a chair with his wrists bound tightly to its arms. He had a terrible headache and a nasty taste in his mouth, his neck and throat were sore as hell, and he had to fight the rising panic when he remembered what had happened before he ended up here.

The air in the room carried the strong scent of paint, mingling with the sounds of bustling morning traffic nearby. Keeping his eyes closed, Danny struggled to maintain his composure. He clung to the belief that his teammates were executing their plan, reassuring himself that the fail-safe was in place. This thought provided some solace amidst the discomfort of being tied to the chair.

A commanding voice cut through the air, jolting Danny from his thoughts. "I know you're awake, Detective," Makoni's voice thundered.

Reluctantly, Danny opened his eyes, surveying his surroundings.

He found himself in a small, sparsely furnished conference room. The space was devoid of much except for a few desks and office chairs huddled in a corner, their surfaces half-covered by black plastic sheets. One wall was lined with windows, though the blinds remained drawn. Across from Danny sat a weathered desk where Makoni leaned with his arms crossed. Agent Denise, Brooks' partner, stood vigilantly by the door, while two unfamiliar men flanked Danny's sides, one of them glaring daggers with a taped-up nose.

Danny fought through the fog clouding his mind from whatever they had drugged him with. He needed to focus now. Lives depended on it. Not to mention two out of three most important people in his life needed him right now.

"If you touch my son–" he started, locking his eyes with Makoni.

"You're not in a position to make threats right now," Makoni cut him off. "Besides, your son is safe for now." He checked his wristwatch. "I believe he's halfway through his math class."

"What?"

"It can stay that way," Makoni said, ignoring Danny's confusion. "This can stay between us. Or I can kill your son and every single person you ever cared about and make you watch. Then kill you too. Slowly. Painfully. All depends on you."

It didn't make sense. "What are you talking about? Mrs. Anderson said–"

"She said what I wanted her to say," Makoni interrupted again. "Most people tend to do that when they have a loaded weapon in their face."

Danny froze. Connected the dots. "You used her to get to me," he said.

"I needed to talk to you in private," Makoni said. "The teacher helped me get your attention."

"You could have asked," Danny snarled. "There's no need to drag anyone else into this."

"And risk your Five-0 buddies to set a trap? I don't think so. I prefer it my way."

Danny glared at Makoni, processing the new information.

"It wasn't even difficult to convince the poor woman to do it. She was a coward," Makoni said.

Past tense. Danny stiffened. "What did you do to her?"

"After that call? I shot her in the head," Makoni said without the slightest hint of remorse.

"Son of a bitch," Danny mumbled under his breath, tugging at the restraints, anger simmering beneath the surface. While relieved Charlie hadn't been taken, the thought of another innocent life lost fueled his rage. Too many people have died because of this monster. Good people. Many more would follow if he allowed Makoni to break him. It wasn't even an option.

Makoni stood up, advancing toward Danny.

"I believe you know why you're here, Detective."

Danny looked up at him. "Why don't you enlighten me?"

Makoni's angry frown deepened. "You have something mine. And I want it back."

Danny remained silent.

After a few long, tense seconds, Makoni spoke, "So, are you gonna tell me where's my radioactive material or not?"

"How should I know?" he said. "You and your agency friends took it from us, remember?" Danny said.

An explosion of pain as Makoni's fist connected with Danny's hurt ribcage. Danny doubled over and coughed, struggling to catch his breath.

"The real one," Makoni said.

Danny straightened himself up. Took a breath. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't tempt me." Makoni's voice dripped with menace. "You and I both know those barrels were empty."

"Were they? What a shame."

Makoni landed another blow, in the same spot.

Danny groaned, trying to ride out the pain.

"Where is it?"

"It's gone, okay? I threw it in the ocean."

Makoni looked down at him, his fists clenched. "I don't think so," he said. "You're a cop. You wouldn't get rid of it just like that. You've got it hidden somewhere safe."

Danny shrugged. "What do you want me to say? It's on the bottom of the ocean."

He did his best to believe it was true, but he knew Makoni would see right through him.

Makoni's phone chimed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen and then back to Danny before he answered it.

"Proceed as planned," he said to the person on the other side of the line while looking into his captive's eyes. "This is nothing but a slight delay."

Danny wished he could hear the person on the other side, but he didn't. Proceed with what?

"I'm aware," Makoni said to his phone. "But he'll tell me in a few minutes, I guarantee it."

Danny didn't like it one bit.

"Set it up. I'll get you those barrels later," Makoni said and ended the call.

Danny's brain worked out the possibilities. One of which was… Oh, shit.

"You've got another bomb somewhere, don't you?" he asked, horrified. "Just waiting for those barrels to trigger it."

Makoni stared at him for a long time. "Well done," he said eventually. "In fact, it's right here in this building."

Danny's head snapped to the side, to the windows he couldn't see through.

"Ala Moana Building," Makoni said. "In case you wonder where 'here' is."

The blood froze in Danny's veins. At this time of the day, the building and its surroundings were swarming with people. As well as the adjacent shopping center. Barrels or not, a bomb exploding here would have devastating consequences.

Makoni grinned, satisfied with Danny's reaction.

Danny pulled at the cuffs again. The plastic didn't move at all. The walls felt too close suddenly.

"I'd like to keep chatting, but I really don't have time for this. So I will ask nicely just one more time," Makoni said. "Where. Is. It?"

Danny locked eyes with him. "Go for a swim and you might find out," he said.

A vicious left hook landed on Danny's temple, snapping his head to the side. His skull exploded in pain. When the room stopped spinning enough to allow him to look up, Makoni was fuming.

"Is that your final answer?"

Danny refused to back down. "It's true."

Makoni nodded. "Very well, maybe you need some motivation," he said and turned on the heel, heading for the doorway.

Danny watched him walk away and close the door, leaving him with the henchman and a dirty CIA agent, wondering what would come next. There were plenty of options. Danny liked neither of them.

Steve had been slipping in and out of consciousness for what felt like a whole eternity. He had no idea whether minutes or hours passed since Makoni and his men had duck-taped his mouth, thrown a sack over his head, and dragged him off the ship into the car's trunk and out into some building.

He had no idea where they were, but he couldn't miss the bustling noise of traffic on the way here. Back in the city, then. Steve could only see one reason for Makoni to bring him here instead of simply shooting him back on the ship, away from prying eyes. Something big was going to happen. Something bad. And the monster wanted him to be a part of it.

In his current state, it would be damn near impossible to try and do something about it. His hands were tied around some kind of a round metal pole. It was hard but pleasantly cool against his burning skin. His whole body throbbed and ached. Each breath was a challenge. Each minute a step closer to death. But he wasn't done fighting. He'd fight until his last breath because that's who he was. That's what Joe had shaped him into.

The air was humid and warm, but still a welcome improvement compared to the heated-up cargo container. The room he was in was silent, but he could hear the cars honking in the distance. And then, voices. Steps.

The door swung open and someone rushed in. Yanked the fabric off his head.

Steve blinked, adjusting his eyes to the bright artificial light. The room was tiny and resembled a utility room of some kind. Makoni and one of his men stood above him, both looking pissed. Something wasn't going up to plan, Steve guessed.

Makoni reached over and pulled the duct tape off Steve's mouth in one swift motion.

"Your Five 0 friends took something that belongs to me," Makoni said, confirming Steve's suspicion.

It took a moment to register, but after a few long seconds, his concussed and confused brain connected the dots. His friends. His ohana. Not only they were alive, but they were fighting back. It filled him with newfound hope. A small part of his brain screamed at him that he couldn't know for sure everyone made it through the Waikiki explosion, but he ignored it. A smile stretched across his face.

"Something funny?" Makoni snarled.

Steve looked up at him. "What did they take? Your toy?" His voice was a mere whisper and he could taste blood as his dry lips cracked.

Makoni stared at him, his nostrils flaring. A long, tense silence followed. But he broke it eventually. "Three barrels of radioactive material," he said.

Steve shuddered. This time, he was sure the panic must have reflected in his eyes. A million thoughts ran through his dazed mind at racing speed.

"Not so funny anymore, is it?" Makoni said.

Steve tried to persuade himself it was going to be okay. Makoni didn't have it. Five 0 did. None of them would let Makoni anywhere near such a destructive thing no matter the cost. Still, the implications sat heavy on his chest.

"You see, I tried to ask nicely where it was. It didn't work. I think some encouragement might be needed."

Makoni reached out with a knife in his hand while the other man watched him with his pistol ready. "Try something and my friend will shoot you," he said.

The blade scraped the skin on his ravaged wrists as Makoni cut through the plastic binding them together. Instant pain flooded his shoulders, arms, and upper back as his arms were set free. They've been locked in an uncomfortable position for way too long. The overwhelming pain started to recede soon and relief followed, but it was extremely short-lived.

Makoni yanked his arms back and zip-tied them behind his back once again. Steve didn't protest. He was too far gone to fight two armed combatants.

"Get up," Makoni ordered and yanked him up by the arm.

Steve tried. He winced at the effort. His head spun and bile rose in his throat, but he forced it down. His legs were wobbly and he feared they wouldn't hold his weight for much longer. But Makoni didn't care. He pulled him up and forced him to shuffle out of the room into a narrow corridor flooded with plenty of doors.

Instantly, the smell of the fresh paint filled his nostrils. The whole floor seemed deserted and the furniture was covered in plastic. It was obviously being renovated, so it'd be empty. Convenient.

Makoni pulled him forward, but Steve's knees gave in. Not even Makoni's hold managed to keep him up. He landed on his knees, and Makoni's goon was by his other side in an instant, helping his boss to get Steve up again.

They marched him past the elevator with the number eighteen written on the display, down the corridor, and then turned left and walked some more. They stopped in front of one of the doors.

They opened the door and pushed Steve inside and let go of his arms. Steve tumbled forward and crashed onto the hard floor on his knees with a thud. The pain rippled through his bones up to his spine but he rode it out.

Both men followed him inside and closed the door behind them. Steve looked up.

The blood froze in his veins in terror.

There were three people in the sparsely furnished office room. One of Makoni's men he had fought before. And a man clad in an expensive suit who he didn't know. Both standing aside by the wall.

But it wasn't either of them who got the most of his attention.

It was his best friend sitting on a wooden chair, his wrists cuffed to the armrests. He seemed worn out. Tired to the bone. And there was a deep healing gash in his hairline along with several minor cuts and bruises across his face, neck, and hands. Some already half-healed, some new.

Their eyes met.

Hundreds of words have been shared without saying a single one out loud.

The fear that rippled through him mirrored in Danny's expression. They both had a fairly clear idea of how this would go down.

Makoni drew his pistol. Aimed it at Steve's head.

"Now, I'm going to ask one last time, Detective," Makoni said. "Where's my cargo?"

*to be continued*

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