STORM SHELTER

By BH and GM

 

Part 3 of the Storm Trilogy:

STORM FRONT

STORM DAMAGE

STORM SHELTER

 

 

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“I made it through the rain and kept myself protected. I made it through the rain and kept my point of view. I made it through the rain and found myself respected by the others who got rained on, too, and made it through.”

Barry Manilow

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“No… thank you… no,” Dan’s eyes shot a distaste-laden look in the direction of the hospital tray before he closed his eyes, and appeared to be trying to purge its memory from his thoughts.

 

Steve McGarrett leveled a slightly discouraged glance at Doctor Niles Bergman before he expertly masked the emotion with a frown. “Yeah, well, I guess this means you’re not feeling up to getting out of here for a while.”

 

The physician, standing at the foot of his patient’s bed, tapped his watch in an exaggerated gesture to make sure that the head of Hawaii Five-0 noticed the motion as he quickly injected, “Only for an hour or so.”

 

Dan’s head jerked almost imperceptibly at the exchange before his eyes opened and panned uncertainly from the doctor to his boss. Suspicion danced across the patient’s features. “Out… you mean you’ll let me leave?”

 

Delighted with the sudden show of mildly desperate interest on the part of his friend, McGarrett’s lip twitched despite the dark circles and tired expression which surrounded the blue eyes studying him. It was refreshing just to see Danno make sustained eye contact with him. Since he’d been admitted, Williams had avoided looking at everyone.

 

“Only for a little while,” Bergman reiterated quickly.

 

Steve nodded in agreement as he remained focused on the patient. “Yeah, Danno – I had a thought that we could take a walk – or just sit for a while – on the beach.”

 

The lead detective hoped that Dan’s passion for the sun and surf of his island home would motivate the officer to eat or converse or do something – anything which might contribute to a more rapid recovery.

 

It had been four days since that terrifying morning when McGarrett had rescued his friend from the demented clutches of Derek Jacobs. Dan’s first twenty-four hours were intermingled with lethargic waking and fitful sleep. Now marginally more animated, Dan sat up a little straighter in his bed.

 

“The… the beach… I’d like to go to the beach, Steve.”

 

McGarrett grinned that the carrot he was dangling had elicited the desired response from his second-in-command, but before he could do more than take in a breath to respond, he was interrupted.

 

The medical man asserted, “In exchange for a one-hour pass, you must eat those scrambled eggs.”  Bergman canted his head briefly toward the untouched tray of food before he added, “Every bite.”

 

The determined set to the man’s jaw made it clear that the doctor was going to stand his ground on this issue, and so, after several seconds of hesitance, Williams – distasteful countenance firmly in place – slowly pulled the tray closer and picked up the fork. Now focused on his tray, Dan mumbled distractedly as he pushed the egg unenthusiastically to the edge of the plate before lifting half of a fork full of yellow blob to his mouth.

 

“You… won’t mind being seen with a guy in his peejays?”

 

The head of Five-0 collected a paper bag from the chair beside the door and returned to his friend’s bedside. “It’s your call, but I brought you street clothes.” He gently tossed the bag onto the bed, causing Dan to jump slightly. Williams didn’t look up from his plate, but after taking a few seconds to recover from his startle, he offered a brief, crooked grin.

 

“Mahalo, Steve,” the patient responded quietly around a swallow.

 

McGarrett smiled as if his protégé had looked up to see him when he spoke (he hadn’t), but in short order directed a concerned glance to the physician, who gave a brief nod of reassurance. Williams’ behavior seemed to be no surprise to the medical man.

 

“And for Heaven’s sake, please be mindful of your sutures!”  Bergman growled as Williams gingerly slid his legs from the bed.

 

“Right… sutures.” Dan grimaced as his feet settled onto the cool tile.

 

McGarrett recalled seeing the gash on his friend’s foot as he helped carry him up the hillside. But there were so many other concerns which drowned out the bloody wound that Steve had completely forgotten it had to be cared for as well. Suddenly having second thoughts about his idea to get Williams out of the hospital for a while, he quickly took in the gaunt features and frail appearance of his friend. He regretted his decision to bring a short-sleeved luau shirt – Danno’s favorite blue and white one – and shorts, now that he saw the scabs and bruises on Dan’s legs and arms. The marks from restraints on his wrists and ankles had faded into pink rings laced with specks of scabs where the skin had been broken.

 

On the other hand, here was Williams frowning in concentration as he slowly dressed. It was clear to Steve that the effort was worth it to his friend, and gave Steve a renewed sense that the outing would do Danno a world of good.

 

No… the idea was a good one, he decided.

 

*****

 

The detectives managed to escape the hospital unseen through the loading dock. To Dan’s dismay, there were actually a few press vultures patrolling the hospital grounds trying to glean information on the detective’s condition, and any other tidbits the public might find titillating. Rumors of Williams’ horrific experience had been impossible to squelch despite McGarrett’s fervent efforts – too many people on the inside were aware of what had happened.

 

During the two-hour outing, Williams had been as at ease as McGarrett had seen in him in ages – even before the horrific kidnapping incident. The pair meandered along the shoreline as waves threatened to overrun their position. Steve attempted to make light conversation, but shortly became aware that his friend seemed to be content with silence as they gently made their way down the shore. Quietness was fine with both men.

 

Violent annoyance quickly overtook McGarrett’s startle-reflex at the flash of a photographer’s bulb. A freelance reporter – Craig Willis – and the camera-toting assistant who routinely shadowed the writer stepped from behind one of the support pillars near the hospital loading dock.

 

“How ya doin’, Danny? Heard that sicko really did a number on you!”  Willis called out triumphantly. “What really happened in that torture chamber?"

 

The Five-0 chief protectively stepped between the unwelcome assaulters and his visibly shaken charge.

 

“Willis, get out of my way,” McGarrett growled as he smoothly slipped his arm around the shell-shocked Williams and manhandled him through the portico and into the receiving vestibule.

 

The photographer managed an end run and wedged in to get a right-in-the-face-close up of the recuperating detective. With a quick pivot, McGarrett swiveled and jammed an elbow into the camera lens, throwing the man and his equipment off balance and out of the way. Craig Willis was back, about to intercept Danno, but Steve managed to get a foot out so the rushing and oblivious reporter tripped and stumbled headlong into the pillar.

 

“Ya know, McGarrett, a story of kidnapping and torture is too juicy to cover up!”  Willis called as Steve ushered his friend away with as much speed as possible. "I have my sources!  And if you don't give me a scoop, I'll just have to go after whatever lurid tidbits I can find through the coconut wireless!”

 

The threat garnered no response as the officers pressed on into the building and the hospital door closed behind them. Willis followed, but came up against a chunky HPD officer, who effectively blocked the path.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

 

Shaken himself by the encounter, McGarrett moved his friend along the hallway and into the service elevator with a little more alacrity than he would otherwise have considered prudent, given the patient’s still somewhat fragile condition. Dan did not balk or argue. Instead, he moved woodenly, allowing his boss to push him along the halls to his room, all the while, a wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights expression frozen on his features.

 

“Danno, you alright?” McGarrett finally felt secure enough to inquire as Williams settled onto the bed.

 

With a hesitancy that was disturbing to Steve, Dan slowly nodded and swallowed.

 

“Yeah… I really hate that guy.”

 

“Me, too.”

 

Craig Willis had long been a figurative thorn in the side of Five-0 owing to run-ins just such as this.

 

Dan gingerly repositioned himself before speaking again. “So the word is out that I was… tortured.” It was not a question, and McGarrett was not certain where to take the conversation from there, given the veracity of the statement. The unvarnished truth had always been the way between them. Before he could formulate an honest, upbeat response that he considered adequate, Williams continued.

 

“I feel… embarrassed. Ashamed that I didn’t do more to…” Dan admitted and then fell silent as he looked down and studied his still-inflamed wrists.

 

“This was NOT your fault, Danno, and you have NO reason to feel ashamed OR embarrassed!” The head of Five-0 nearly shouted, and regretted it almost immediately as his friend flinched slightly. “We’ll get through this together.”

 

The nod was slow and introspective. “I just wish Willis weren’t right.”

 

*****

 

The noise startled Williams to consciousness with an abrupt slam, and forced out a gasp of surprise. Eyes wide open, Dan Williams caught his breath as the chasing, clawing deadly demons from his nightmare receded. Warring with the reality of daylight and gradually losing the battle, they returned to their ethereal realms in an indistinct wisp of terror.

 

Another knock sounded from the partially open door of the hospital room.

 

Williams held his breath, the edge of dread clutching him as he watched the door, afraid of what might come into the room. He was alone. The hulking, dangerous enemy had been after him…

 

Sergeant Duke Lukela stuck his head in and gave a nod. Stepping aside, he allowed Chin and Ben to follow him into the doorway. “Hey, Danny, how are you this morning?” He moved into the room and placed a paper bag on the table between them, then backed away. “Doris made you some malasadas.”

 

The patient relaxed marginally as he offered a slight nod and grin to his colleagues, "Please tell Doris mahalo for me.”

 

Dan's smile lingered only a moment before it was replaced with an uncertain curiosity. Why were they all knotted at the entry to the private room? The silence was distressing.

"How’s it – uh – going, guys?” The query faded away.

 

"No problems here, Danny,” Chin responded, stepping along the wall. "You want more food? Mai will make some ono kau kau for you.”

 

He could not tell them that he had no appetite, that any food taken in was unpalatable. His stomach and nerves had not recovered from the drug that had been pumped into his system. Shakes, sweats, jittery nerves, lack of appetite – some of the many side effects of his recent captivity.

 

These were his first real visitors – apart from Steve, of course -- and he was alert enough to realize this was odd. Not like past visits. He’d been here five days now. The first three were a fuzzy, nearly continuous nightmare of images, crawling skin, tremors, and pain from various injuries. He couldn’t recall ever feeling so miserable in so many ways. Images of Dante’s Inferno trespassed into his consciousness regularly. He tried to keep his problems to himself, but sometimes they just announced themselves. It was with no small measure of chagrin he recalled barricading himself in his room with a doorstop. His logic was muddled and confused, but at the time, it had seemed a survivalist move to lock himself away from the world – to keep the eyes from prying, the hands from touching. In the end, he had the vague recollection that he’d somehow managed to square things with Steve.

 

In the eternal confinement of the five days he had been here, McGarrett had frequently appeared. The stalwart support was something Dan expectantly awaited each day – each time he awoke from uneasy slumber – because he knew in McGarrett’s presence there was safety. Shelter from the storm of agonizing solitude… protection from the perils menacing him in the obscure threats of nightmares, companionship against the confining hospital room, hope of escape to anywhere but here.

 

“Are they treating you all right?” Ben frowned as if answering his own question in the negative.

 

With a grimace, his gaze wandered to the view out the window. After a moment, he admitted he would rather be at home. Sitting around a hospital was one of his least favorite activities. The three visitors exchanged uncomfortable looks, Dan noted before focusing on his hands folded against the white sheet.

 

Chin broke the awkward silence, and offered a tentative smile. "Glad you're feeling ready to get outta here.”

 

Williams searched for a tentative smile. “Yeah.”

 

Darting glances at the three detectives, he grew more uneasy. Was he doing something that concerned them? He hoped he appeared somewhat normal and – if nothing else – not permanently damaged by his ordeal. For the first time he could remember his various hospital stays, this was a very awkward – strained visit. There was no sense of the usual comfort and camaraderie of his friends. They carried an odd aura of – he couldn't quite describe it. Distance? Why wouldn't Ben meet his eyes? Hating the silence and pressure – where none should exist – he strained to think of small talk to fill the void. “So – uh – what have you guys been up to?"

 

"The Miller case is going to trial next week,” Chin offered.

 

Dan gave a nod, remembering the robbery had gone bad. He had assisted Chin and Ben on the investigation. It all seemed so distant and unimportant now. Apathetic to the mundane crime, he wondered what was wrong with him. He lived for his job!  These were his closest friends!  How could they be feeling like strangers in a frosty encounter? He worked to think about some urgent matter that had enveloped all their attention before he was kidnapped.

 

"Things okay at the office?"

 

"You know, the usual stuff,” Ben responded after checking with the others, who allowed the dialog to die an uneasy death. Another uncomfortable pause. "Oh, hey, Chin did a great job tying that nasty attorney, Shem, into knots.”

 

“Just gave my testimony. I let Manicote and his people do all the heavy lifting.”

 

The only word his lethargic mind could label the conversation was… strange. They all remained clustered around the door as if poised to make a quick get-away. He was tired and a little off balance after waking up from a sedated slumber. If he was feeling better, he felt certain he'd have a witty retort, and would know what questions to ask his friends.

 

As un-stimulating – and frankly concerning to Dan – as the almost desperate attempts at conversation inched on, Williams wondered where Jenny was. And the wives.

They were usually eager to give him pep talks and fill him with homemade goodies. It was as if a delegation had been sent. He began to ponder what the papers – not legitimate journals, but the rags which bought the tripe Craig Willis peddled – were saying about his experience.

 

Then, as if window blinds opened to reveal a clarifying light, he understood. The meeting with that vile reporter had jolted him, but the slime had revealed something that no one else would tell him. He was a pariah because of the kidnapping and torture. The wives, Jenny – they didn't know how to act around him after what had become a horrific and public case. Look at the way his friends were treating him!  No one knew what to say to the poor cop who was captured, tortured, humiliated!

 

"Is there anything we can get for you?” Duke wondered.

 

Breathing out a thin sigh, he shook his head, utterly dejected with his new-found realization. "No, no thanks. I'll be fine as soon as Doc gives me the okay to get outta here.” He wished it could be now. And he wished the other detectives would just leave and put an end to a visit which was painful for all parties.

 

The door flew open wide and, with perfect timing, Steve McGarrett blasted into the room. Taking in the patient first, then glancing at their friends, he gave a half-grin.

 

“Steve!”  Williams brightened marginally with relief.

 

“We better get back to work now that the boss is here,” Lukela suggested to the Five-0 men. Saying their farewells, they slipped out quickly behind McGarrett.

 

“Well, we'll drop by again,” Ben promised, already heading through the door. "Take care, Danny.”

 

Watching them exit, Steve gave a nod to Lukela, who stood to the side in the hallway. It felt like he had just entered a room with no oxygen. For a moment, he held Lukela's gaze as the door closed, puzzled by the strained atmosphere he had sensed.  Peculiar.

 

Then turned and smiled at his friend, tossing a small duffle bag onto the bed. “How are you doing, my friend?”

 

“Great,” Williams insisted, a sarcastic-deadpan inflection overtly obvious – at least to the head of Five-0.

 

McGarrett focused on the patient. “Feeling… on the road to recovery, Danno?” As he asked the question, his eyes crinkled in disquiet.

 

“Yeah,” Williams responded unconvincingly, knowing McGarrett had already taken in his condition and was not pleased.

 

“And you’re ready to leave?” the Five-0 chief prompted.

 

“I wanna get outta here,” came the instantaneous, impatient confirmation.

 

Steve gave an absent-minded nod. Something was bothering Danno. Un-talkative. No eye contact. Nervous? Irritated? True, he had gone through so much, but Steve sensed that there was really something wrong on a level that had nothing to do with the trauma of the experience with Jacobs. Did it have something to do with the unsettled atmosphere when he had entered the room moments earlier? Why did Steve feel like he had just walked into a confrontation instead of friends paying a visit of mercy to a recuperating colleague? Where was the camaraderie Williams so easily inspired with the guys from his unit?

 

Was Danno not ready to go? He was beyond subdued – this was not communicating, a reluctance to interact. It was all normal for someone tortured and nearly killed. If anyone could, McGarrett empathized, understood, and remembered the inner torment of rebuilding a life after captivity and torture. A victim himself of such torment at the hands of cruel, sadistic animals, he commiserated with everything Danno would have to face in his recovery. Yet Steve could feel there was a deeper current of unrest underlying the recovering officer's manner.

 

As casually as possible, McGarrett studied Williams as he helped pull street clothes out of the bag. The pale face, the dampness, the distance, and lack of usual light interaction with the visitors accentuated Williams’ precarious condition. Danno was not recovered from the hideous drugs poured into him by his diabolical captors. They were not over this yet. While Danno wouldn’t say anything specific, Steve could guess the nightmares, the secret fears, the preoccupation with grueling memories that would not leave, but could hardly be endured.

 

Compounded with the haunting recollections and residual pain were the insidious reactions from the experimental drugs. Anyone would be jumpy after that, he excused his friend categorically. This was going to take some time to recover – for all of them.

 

Sitting down on the side of the bed, he patted Dan’s leg and was startled when his friend flinched. He had to remember to curb his natural, brotherly affection toward his friend. It had taken a long time to express itself in friendship to anyone, but it was a habit now, and felt uneasy to pull back from the impulse.

 

“I know this is tough, Danno, but it's going to get better.”

 

Without looking at him, Dan nodded. “Just tired of this bed. This room. This IV Doc keeps re-doing. If I’m going home, what’s the point!”

 

Instinctively about to agree, the reply caught in his throat. Usually anxious to be a party to a jail break from the hospital, Steve was thoughtful – reluctant -- as the subconscious aberrations piled up in his mind. Instinct was telling him that perhaps Danno needed to stay here a little longer and receive more help, or gain strength and stability – or something. Maybe all he needed was freedom away from the confinement. Danno always needed to connect with the sea, the land, the fresh ocean breezes to feel centered. That was probably all that was needed now. And a great deal of patience.

 

The younger officer turned to face him. “Steve, let’s get out of here.”

 

The plea, delivered with a heartfelt expression of desperation, brought a flash of sympathy knotting his throat. Nothing would make him happier than to roust his friend from this institution. Every time he came here, now, he suffered through a variety of emotions ranging from guilt to rage. Was he trying to assuage his own regret by encouraging his friend to defy Bergman’s medical admonitions? He had to go back to the most basic motivation – not what Danno wanted -- but what was best for him.

 

When they had brought Williams in, he had been a physical and psychological wreck. The horrendous experience had damaged Williams inside and out. While forced to wait outside the ER, McGarrett had taken the opportunity to vent his frustration and wrath on various hospital staff members.

 

From the administrator all the way down to nursing supervisors and security managers, he railed on them for their lax – even negligent – treatment of his friend. The blistered paint on the walls was probably still peeling from the intensity of his blasts. These professionals had assured McGarrett that no one could possibly have entered Williams’ hospital room weeks ago when Danno was recovering from a bullet wound. Yet, Jacobs had all too easily managed to pay Danno a frightening bedside visit, and could easily have killed him!  If Five-0 -- McGarrett -- had paid his second-in-command the consideration Williams’ concerns had been due, the terrifying course of events would likely not have played out as they had.

 

The cycle returned to the self-castigation level then (never far away) that he had not believed his friend. Despite what rational doctors said and what evidence inferred, HE had not trusted Danno. HE had failed his friend and deserved much of the blame for the torment thrust upon Williams.

 

Aching from the all-too-close recollections, he changed the subject. McGarrett almost tapped the bag atop Williams’ blanketed legs. “I brought you some clothes. Why don’t you get ready and I’ll take you to breakfast. Kings?” he suggested as he peaked into the small brown bag by the pillow. “Mmmm, some of Doris Lukela’s malasadas. Maybe I’ll just eat these.”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

Frowning, the chief studded his friend as Williams slowly moved to sit on the edge of the bed. The stiffness, the wan face, the weakness, underscored that the younger detective was not yet well. McGarrett made a study of digging in the parcel to find a small treat, avoiding thoughts of how painful the journey could be on the road to recovery. Danno was going to be okay, was his continued mantra, as he popped a confection in his mouth. The hospital’s staff psychiatrist had interviewed Danno. Those findings had not reached McGarrett, yet, but Steve knew it would be okay. A little rough, but the worst was over.

 

When the door opened McGarrett expected it to be the discharge nurse with a wheelchair. He turned to instruct her to come back later when Williams was ready. The words caught in his throat when he recognized Doc Bergman.

 

“Here to see Danno off…”

 

The medical man’s dark expression ended any other pleasantries. Something was wrong. Bergman’s usual brusque attitude and physician’s mask were replaced by dark resolution. Glancing between the two officers, Bergman settled his gaze on the patient.

 

“Danny. I have – well, there are some results – we need to discuss.”

 

McGarrett’s stomach tightened. He had seen Bergman deliver bad news before. He had never seen the man display the frightening tenor now playing in the eyes. It took him back so completely that the head of Five-0 did not object. Williams, catching the tone or the look, or just reacting to the bad news, seemed to be clenching his teeth. His fists were gripped tightly, and his brow was furrowed with intensity.

 

In the only form of protection he could think of, McGarrett moved to his detective’s side, to offer symbolic support, as inadequate as that seemed at the moment. He worried that what they were about to hear was not good at all.

 

A dust-illuminating ray of morning sunlight jutted through a gap in the closed curtain of the hospital room.

 

Bergman, maintaining a wary eye on his patient, explained, “I’m sorry, Danny. I’m not willing to risk releasing you just yet.”

 

Williams' wan face lost all color. “What's wrong, and WHY is everyone acting like I’m contagious?"

 

“What?” Bergman was truly baffled. "No! What kind of crazy idea is that?"

 

McGarrett stared at him. “Why would you think that?"

 

"It's like I'm a leper or something!” he reflected with mild dejection. “But then, it's not an illness at all, is it? People are uncomfortable because of the torture, but that’s not going to be cured by IVs and bed rest, Doc. I want out of here!”

 

Bergman stared nonplussed for several seconds at the upset officer before he shook his head and sighed. “Danny… you may be right about people and their tendency to be uncomfortable around those who’ve experienced the likes of what you’ve been through, but-”

 

The younger man's cut him off. "There’s no reason for me to stay while everyone else works through their… their discomfort.”

 

“That’s NOT the reason you’re remaining here under observation,” the physician calmly, but emphatically returned. McGarrett raised an eyebrow at the medical man, who held up a hand. “For starters, you’re not eating or sleeping!”

 

“I can do that at home!”

 

“You CAN, but you WON’T! Self-doctoring in the Five-0 ranks is the worst medical care possible because there is no care involved. Without my supervision and restrictions, you AND Steve go off and get into trouble!”

 

McGarrett didn’t like this, but he couldn’t argue at any point offered by Bergman. And in the back of his mind were the new suspicions about Danno's behavior.

 

The doc continued. “And I’m keeping you for a few more days for any of the other known responses to the drug.”

 

“I’m not gonna maul anybody, Doc.”

 

Dan, sitting on his bed, now carefully slipped to the floor in defiance of his physician's orders. Williams, from the set of his jaw, was not giving in to medical advice.

 

Startled at the sudden defiance from the all too quiet younger detective, McGarrett wanted to ally with his friend. Instinct, and Danny's recent subdued attitude, gave him pause. He stepped to the bedside again. “Doc…”

 

“NO!  Don't argue!  Either of you!”  The physician commanded.

 

The abrupt and absolute response momentarily took the detective by surprise. His friend had been sequestered here for nearly a week, and, while most of the cuts, abrasions, and bruises were receding, Danno was still not himself. Periods of lethargy and minimal responsiveness to questions alternated with near-manic demands to be released. The patient ate only with high-pressure cajoling or threats that his stay would be extended, and there was no doubt to even the casual observer that Williams was not sleeping well. All of these things, in Steve’s mind, could be attributed to the fact that the entire horrific episode began in this very hospital. How could anyone expect his friend to fully recuperate in the place where he’d first been accosted by his kidnapper as he lay helpless in his bed?

 

Williams pushed back. “Doc, you don’t understand—”

 

“It’s YOU who doesn’t understand!”  The medical man snapped in return.

 

This time, Bergman’s vehement response stopped the head of Five-0 from any other comments. “I think you need to explain that pronouncement, Doc!”

 

Bergman shot a regret-filled grimace at the lead detective before he sighed and looked at Williams. “I already told you that the drug – which is certainly still in Danny’s system – was discovered to have numerous…” The physician looked down for a moment in concentration. “Undesirable side effects.”

 

Steve nodded quickly. “Yeah, I remember, but it seems to me that Danno is over the hump on those.”

 

Bergman sighed and shrugged slightly. “Well, I believe that’s probably true for most of them--”

 

“But what? There’s a BUT in your tone!”  McGarrett demanded.

 

“The tiger, which had been treated with DHQ, did slowly – over the course of several weeks – return to his normal, cranky, growling self.”

 

The lead detective’s eyes grew large. “You’re not telling me that you’re gonna keep Danno here for several weeks, Doc!”

 

Those words finally elicited a gasp from the patient, whose stoic expression cracked slightly as he turned to await his doctor’s response. "No,” he told them, adamantly shaking his head.

 

“I’d just like to give it a few more… days,” Bergman hedged.

 

“Tell me about the tiger,” Dan commanded softly.

 

The medical examiner snapped his head to stare at his patient for several seconds. The tired blue eyes, set in dark rings from ill-taken sleep, revealed a lucid mind. With a resigned glance in McGarrett’s direction, Bergman sighed. “The tiger… well, the tiger died, and so did two bears on the Mainland.”

”After several weeks?” The head of Five-0 was horrified at the outcome. “What was the cause of death?”

 

“Cardiac arrest. Their hearts stopped,” the doctor admitted before annoyance brushed across his expression. “The darned veterinarians at the three zoos – none of them – conducted a proper autopsy on any of the animals though, so I don’t have anything more definitive to tell you.”

 

McGarrett’s brow furled deeper. “So it’s possible that their deaths had nothing to do with the drug.”

 

“Come on, Steve! Neither of us believes in coincidence. And as far as anyone can tell, the DHQ treatments were the only thing the animals had in common. I’d hate to be the one to confirm for the manufacturer that DHQ does cause spontaneous cardiac arrest weeks after the last delivery.”

 

“I want out.”  Dan seemed unfazed by Bergman’s frightening inference.

 

Bergman bristled. “You are going nowhere,” he sternly countered. "This drug terrifies me, Danny!”  Both detectives were startled by the loud pronouncement. Astonished by silence, Bergman relentlessly pressed forward. "You are staying here under observation until I am satisfied you are no longer in danger of dropping dead from cardiac arrest!”

 

The medical man’s proposal evoked a dread in McGarrett. While he was disappointed for Danno's sake, he had never seen Bergman so frightened, and that fear prompted him to lean towards the side of caution. If Danno was in any danger of dropping dead, it was a good idea to stay close to medical help until the danger was past. His friend’s life might depend on instant medical help. And it escalated the instinctive concern that was growing over Williams' lethargic recovery.

 

Again, there was an air of cornered prey in Williams. The unwavering blue-eyed glare never left the doctor's face. "I am leaving.  Now.”

 

Steve interrupted, his voice steely. “Danno, if the doc thinks you should stay longer…”

 

Noting the news about the animals had affected the head of Five-0 more deeply than his protégé, Bergman chimed in with an enthusiastic nod. “Steve’s right.”

 

Dan’s eyes narrowed as he focused on McGarrett. “Whose side are you on?”

 

The lead detective kept his gaze leveled on his friend. “Yours, Danno – you heard what Doc said. They don’t know what caused the tiger to die!”

 

“Maybe they should’ve just let him go back home!”  Williams’ voice grew in intensity and tenor. "I'm leaving. And nothing you can do will stop me!” he finished emphatically.

 

McGarrett placed a restraining hand on Danno's shoulder to calm his friend. Against Medical Advice – AMA – the Five-0 chief knew the term, and understood that leaving the hospital without the doctor's approval meant Danno could not return to the job without a plethora of additional documentation, and ultimately, the full blessing of Bergman. Danno's desperation was apparent, but McGarrett was now leaning toward the doc in this argument. Williams shoved away the touch. Slowly, he moved to the end of the bed and defiantly seized onto the bag of clothes McGarrett had brought with him.

 

"You're not leaving – even AMA,” Bergman ordered stiffly. He stepped to the door and opened it. Outside were two bulky men, straining to be contained within the surging seams of their barely-fitting white orderly uniforms. Samoans – each as big as the doorway. "Tommy and Aki are under my orders to keep you in this room, Detective Williams. And if I have to enforce that with a psych order, I will.”

 

McGarrett drew in a breath from the threat. “Doc, you can't!  That would go into Danno's record permanently –"

 

"I would rather have a blemish in his Five-0 file than have him die!  This is my call, Steve,” he reminded, never taking his eyes off the belligerent younger officer. "You are staying until I say otherwise, Danny,” Bergman reinforced. "Is that understood?"

 

Williams said nothing. Lips pressed closed, face flushed with anger, he leaned on the bed, arms crossed, staring out the window.

 

“Danno will not leave,” McGarrett assured tightly.

 

"No, he won’t,” the medical man quietly confirmed as he turned towards the door without looking back.

 

Before the door swung closed, Steve noted the doctor giving the two orderlies curt instructions. The hulking attendants moved back to lean against the far corridor wall – within a few steps of this room. Williams would not be escaping with them on duty.

 

As the door closed behind Bergman and his beefy orderlies, McGarrett reeled mentally. That Doc had taken such an adamant stand (to the point that he was willing to scar Williams’ medical history to get his point across!) rocked the Five-0 chief. Steeling himself for what he expected would be a blistering venting of frustration from his friend, he turned slowly towards the bed to take it head on. To his unexpected dismay, Williams had not moved, his gaze still directed out the window. No sign of an eruption on the horizon – just a silent smoldering.

 

“Danno…” Steve started, but couldn’t formulate a comforting thought quickly enough to add anything at the moment. Instead he meandered around the bed into his friend’s line of sight. The result – Williams looked down toward the floor.

 

“Doc’s right, Danno,” McGarrett tried again quietly. “Your life is not worth risking for a few extra days in the hospital. I know you want out of here. I want you out, too, but Doc would not have pulled the psych-hold card if he didn’t feel so strongly that this is for the best.”

 

Williams’ continued fixed stare put him on edge.

 

“Danno?”

 

Before there was an opportunity to respond (not that the patient appeared ready to do that), a nurse, accompanied by one of the orderly goons, pushed through the door.

 

“Doctor Bergman instructed me to re-insert your IV,” She announced cautiously, obviously alerted to the patient’s new status. The large man in white joined her at bedside and folded his arms almost menacingly to encourage Dan’s cooperation. “Now please, Mr. Williams, get back into your bed.”

 

Williams glowered at the invaders for several pregnant seconds before moving backwards and settling onto the pillows. He relinquished his arm with obvious reluctance, and turned his field of view downward towards his chest. The older woman worked quickly in the painful silence to re-establish the line while McGarrett watched in surprise as Tommy or Aki (the Five-0 chief had forgotten which one was which) commenced attaching leg and hand restraints to the bed railings.

 

For a brief moment, Steve was confused about what the Samoan behemoth was doing, but quickly grasped the implication – preparations were underway to accommodate the chance that the patient might become unruly! It was apparent from Dan’s unsettled and concerned demeanor that Williams had drawn the same conclusion. He immediately tugged his arm from the surprised nurse.

 

“Hey, what are you doing?” Dan threw an alarmed glance in his friend’s direction before re-directing his attention to the goings-on around his bedside.

 

“Tommy!”  The orderly shouted through the door to his colleague before very loudly and deliberately addressing his charge. “Easy bruddah, ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.”

 

“You’re not gonna tie me to this bed!”  Dan announced with an edge of panic apparent in his tone as he shot a desperate glance in McGarrett’s direction. “Steve! Please don’t let them—”

 

The patient’s plea was interrupted by the onrush into the room of medical personnel – with Tommy at the forefront. “Easy, bruddah,” Tommy moved with an alacrity Steve would have only expected from someone much smaller. The Samoan, along with his partner, was at Williams’ side, in a flash.

 

Even for McGarrett, trained to act immediately in an emergency, the situation was out of control before he could stop the tumble of disastrous moments combining in cataclysm. The huge orderlies were wrestling with Williams as Steve was pushed back and away from the center of the melee by two more hospital workers.

 

“Stop! You can't do this!” Steve cried, struggling to free himself out of the grasp of the orderlies. "This is the last thing he needs!”  he entreated, stopping short of any more sharing of Danno's – his – vulnerabilities. To someone recently captured and tortured, this kind of treatment was beyond destructive!  This was how he was imprisoned!  Restrained and jailed and made to suffer…  "No!  No!”  he repeated, in agonized, trembling invectives. Pushed against the wall, he gave up the vain attempts to explain and continued to fight against the muscle-bound, trained orderlies who were intent – and successful – in holding him back from aiding his friend.

 

By the time Steve managed to regain some visibility into the scene around the bedside, Williams was lashed to the railing with padded restraints. His mouth was stuffed with the safety depressor that effectively muzzled the patient – victim – and prevented him from biting anyone.

 

Shouting, fighting to get free, McGarrett was as helpless as his friend, and observed in dismay as the nurse completed her assigned task. Her last duty was to inject a full syringe of something into the line. It was immediately apparent that the mystery drug, which was now flowing into Danno’s system, was a strong sedative. Williams’ struggles weakened more dramatically with each passing second. Livid, McGarrett slid an arm out of the relaxed grasp of his adversary-orderlies, and jumped to his friend’s side. The staff remained close, uncertain what would happen, their wariness shifting completely from the subdued patient to the cop who simmered threateningly next to the bed.

 

 “What is the commotion now?” Bergman shouted as he stormed into the room. He gasped at the scene, slowly plodding forward to witness the results of his orders, and then placed a hand on Dan's wrist.

 

"Get him out of these!”  McGarrett would not look at the doctor, but sizzled, teeth clenched, staring at the fluttering eyelids, the unfocused blue eyes of the wan patient who was quickly slipping into unconsciousness. "Fix this!”

 

“Steve – I – I am so sorry –"

 

"I don't want your apologies,” McGarrett spat. "I want Danno freed!”

 

The nurse who had administered the IV hovered near Bergman's shoulder. When the doctor looked at her with a woeful expression, she shook her head. Turning back to the Five-0 leader, Bergman confessed.  “Steve, I never meant for it to come to this. I don't understand how this situation got so out of control.” 

 

“Well, it wasn’t Danno’s doing!”  McGarrett shouted.

 

“We were following procedure,” the nurse spoke up. "You know once the order is given to treat an uncooperative patient we go by the book, doctor.”  She spared a glare at McGarrett, clearly addressing him, not the medical professional who was well versed in the technical rules in place for all formulas of completing their tasks. "The patient resisted treatment and the orderlies acted according to routine. Now that he is under a psychiatric watch, we can do nothing until the sedation wears off. Then we evaluate and act according to the patient's actions and reactions.”

 

McGarrett could feel the heat of anger in his face in flushed ire. Bergman wisely dismissed the nurse and all the other personnel in the room. He placed his fingertips lightly on Dan's wrist again in a habitual show of proprietary administration.

 

“Steve, just let him sleep. When he wakes up we will take care of everything. All right?"

 

Only with disciplined effort did the officer stop grinding his teeth. "How long?” he tersely asked, not looking at the betraying physician.

 

"Give it three, maybe four hours.”

 

“Don't let anyone touch him again!”

 

With a curt nod McGarrett spun from the room, seething with frustration and anger that could not be reconciled. He took the stairs down to the parking lot, the physical jog pushing the swirling emotions out in a way that allowed him to be more in control once he reached his car. Leaning heavily on the hood, he closed his eyes until he felt he could handle returning to the Palace to seek balance and the anesthetizing comfort of duty.

 

Until this wretched torment with Jacobs, he had managed to forget the true meaning of torture, anguish and helplessness. With the end of Danno's captivity, it seemed they were still not free of the clinging tendrils of Jacobs' long and painful claws of revenge.

 

*****

 

McGarrett arrived at the hospital room four hours after the horrific incident, and it took another twenty-plus minutes before Williams began to stir. Wisely, Bergman had ordered all restraints, and the IV removed, so Danno would awaken to the calmest, most normal situation the circumstance would allow.

 

Placing a gentle hand over Dan's own hand, Steve stood by, tense, wondering how his friend would feel when he awakened. When the lackluster blue eyes looked like they were open for good, Steve leaned close. “Danno. You okay?"

 

Turning his head, Williams gave what seemed to be a pained swallow in response.

 

Tentatively asking a few questions, McGarrett found the patient subdued, lethargic, and uncommunicative. After a few failed attempts at a conversation, Steve settled on offering quiet assurances that there would be no more repeats of the earlier crisis.

 

Weary, Dan slowly focused on the small window inset in the door. “Why is Duke… why is Duke standing there… outside… like he’s – he’s guarding the door?” he observed finally.

 

Rubbing his face in his hand, McGarrett took a moment to gather his nerve. He knew this moment had to come. Why did it come on the heels of the bitter event they’d just endured? There was no way to temper the blow. Vividly, he recalled how he imploded, then exploded, when Lukela delivered the horrible facts days ago.

 

"Aren't the giant orderlies enough,” Williams wondered dully.

 

"It's not that, Danno.”

 

He had been pacing in the hall, awaiting word on Danno’s condition. They had recently returned from the hillside where Danno had been rescued from the literal clutches of the insane Jacobs. Snared in his world of misery, McGarrett looked up when Lukela tentatively approached him.

 

“Steve, you won’t believe this.” His tight expression and delivery conveyed that he was of similar sentiment. “That – Jacobs – he’s alive!”

 

“What? How – “

 

“When he went over the pali, he landed in a canopy of trees. The guys found him a little bit ago. He’s in the ER – “

 

“What!  Here?”

 

Yeah.”

 

The thought that the monster who tortured his friend was here in the same wing as Danno was untenable. “Where?” he growled and pushed past the officer to stalk down the hall.

 

Of course, the same resistant staff that kept him from overseeing Danno’s treatment kept him from going inside the room and finishing the job he intended to complete up on the pali. Compelled to find the villain, he at least found the room and was able to look through the small, round window in the door to watch as doctors treated the screaming criminal.

 

He heard a nurse scold the HPD men at the door. Their response cheered him. “Nothin’ you gonna say can move us from our post, lady,” one of them scoffed at her bullying. “Sergeant Lukela threatened us that we better not let this guy out of our sight. You don’t like it, then you take it up with him. And if you still feel like arguing, you can talk to Mister McGarrett.”

 

There was a satisfaction knowing this slug was suffering now, but it wasn’t enough. That he was alive was such a rank injustice Steve could hardly stand there and do nothing.  Fists and jaws clenching over and over again, he had to restrain himself from bursting in there and strangling the man. Or pulling his revolver and shooting him while he writhed on the gurney.

 

Jacobs looked up and saw him and – for a strained moment – their eyes met. The criminal understood the hatred he read in McGarrett, and he burst into laughter. The amusement rankled and drove Steve to push at the door, but it was blocked by two orderlies on the other side.

 

Stepping back, he bumped into Lukela, who was right behind him. Smashing his fist on the door again, he breathed out, “Duke, move Jacobs from the hospital. I don’t want him in the same building as Danno!”

 

“You got it, Steve.”

 

Galling that he had exposed obvious weakness in his naked hatred for Jacobs. Options shredded Steve had lost control end lost to the first rule of battle: never let the enemy see how effective he is.

 

Admittedly, McGarrett had overreacted in a very visible and explicit show of force also to the hospital staff. He had not forgotten their lapse in security that brought Danno in here again. He was also reacting to his own passions. Having experienced much grief in his life, he had rarely felt such blistering abhorrence for anyone as he felt for Jacobs. So hot and deep were his scalding feelings, he was not sure what he would do if he faced the madman unrestrained.

 

He placed a comforting hand on Dan’s leg and the younger man flinched. McGarrett tightened his grip. “Danno, this isn’t going to be easy, so I’ll just tell you straight out.” He took a breath. “Jacobs is still alive.”

 

Williams moved his stare from the door to Steve’s face. Controlled – nonreactive. No way to read the closed expression. Was that good or bad? Was his friend still too under the influence of the sedative to fully comprehend the statement? Was Danno trying to suppress the fear, the hurt, the sense of betrayal? At him? Steve wondered. At Fate?

 

“Danno, I know this is tough, but trust me, you are completely safe. Jacobs is in the lock up. He can’t get out, I promise you that. You’re safe. You don’t have to worry about Jacobs anymore. He’s going to prison for the rest of his unnatural life.”

 

Williams’ eyes hovered for several more seconds on the man standing over him before he hesitantly looked away.

 

“Do you understand what I'm telling you, my friend?” The Five-0 chief held his breath after the query.

 

Another painful pause ensued before Dan nodded ever so slightly, and closed his eyes. "It's okay, Steve.”

 

McGarrett sighed in mild relief. That had been a little easier than he expected. He hoped that Danno trusted that he would keep him safe and make sure Jacobs would never hurt him again.

 

***** 

 

The humiliating experience of jail life was nearly beyond his ability to endure. Intellectual discipline was the only method Derek Jacobs could employ to keep from constant, ranting screams. He, the talented veterinarian, the valedictorian of his university, the social wit – in prison!  Only one thought held him, like an anchor to a placid bay, and that was the same thread of concentrated bliss that kept him alive after Frank’s death. Revenge. McGarrett was still the target of his unfulfilled retribution. How could he accomplish that? He didn’t know. But it kept his agile mind on a higher plane than the sordid realty of his miserable new existence.

 

Confinement was anathema to him, and contrary to his sophisticated personality. Three sickening, starchy meals a day, exercise in a caged yard with prowling adversaries sizing him up. It was as if he was trapped in the monkey cage at his zoo!  Degrading!  Watched, subdued, restricted. He would be better off in his zoo!  He would be better off dead!  And he would be, joined with Frank on the other side of eternity if not for one man. The man who had ruined his life. McGarrett. How could he turn things around and exact his full revenge on McGarrett?

 

He had made promising inroads to that by kidnapping and torturing Williams. If only he had pulled the wire sooner and slit Williams’ throat in front of McGarrett, then he would have died happy. What could he do now as a caged, wretched prisoner? He did not know, but he kept his mind active thinking of the possibilities. He lulled himself to sleep each night, ignoring his surroundings, and closing his eyes to various scenarios of pain and suffering to his adversary. His only goal in life was to make any one of those fantasies come true. 

 

The HPD van jerked to a stop and Jacobs looked out the window at the rear entrance to the courthouse. He moved to straighten the expensive, silk, gray-and-peach tie gracing his neck, but was restrained by the manacles tethering his wrists to the chains around his ankles. His attorney had retrieved the cravat along with the super-chic gray, pin-striped suit from his sea-facing condo in Kahala. Suppressing a scream of frustration, he was half-lifted from the vehicle and slowly trudged into the building. Did they have to truss him up like a wild animal? Did they think he was a match for the armed, gorilla-type cops surrounding him? The indignity threatened to ripple into an outward cry of defiance, but he kicked his mental gears into the fantasy-world that was ever close to reality. The thought of Williams similarly bound and tortured eased his heart and enabled him to enter the courtroom with a level of superimposed confidence.

 

He nearly tripped at the doorway when he entered the room. One of the officers caught onto his arm and guided him to a nearby seat. The side of his mouth smirked at the inside joke. The onlookers probably felt a pang of pity for the poor accused at that stumble. How could they know it was his momentary start at seeing Steve McGarrett, in the flesh, seated behind the prosecuting attorney!

 

Heart racing, mind clicked into high gear, Jacobs’ thoughts raced. McGarrett. Here. He had not anticipated that. But, yes, the big man of Five-0 WOULD be here to gloat. To revel in the misery of his victim. To grind his boot in the face of the man he had destroyed!  Derek couldn’t even kill himself for Frank – now up for public ridicule – dragging Frank’s name in the dirt!  Oh, wretched man, how low I have fallen! 

 

The attorney was saying something, but Jacobs only heard the buzz of pity. NO NO NO!  He could not let McGarrett win!  He forced the shame to swirl into anger in his mind. Washed red with loathing, he kicked back to automatic responses. Hatred. Raw, livid, visceral hatred. McGarrett had killed Frank. McGarrett had not killed Derek. So instead of pitying himself, Derek would twist this farcical tragedy into a play of revenge. He was alive to fulfill justice for his beloved Frank. He was still alive to destroy McGarrett! 

 

How? The odds were against him. Like some Greek hero, he had to turn around the wrath of the Gods and make this quest his own victory. It was his destiny to live and continue the fight. It would be a nightmare, yes. But he could do it. He could do anything if it damaged his enemy. He had proven that in all the misadventures with Blane as his ally.   

 

Boldly, Derek turned and flinched when he saw McGarrett staring at him. Hatred emanated from the Five-0 chief. The same vile hatred Derek had seen when their eyes last locked through the small window in the ER.

 

Oh, foul man, do you not know how hatred is a duel-edged sword? I will wield it to destroy us both!  Publicly, I will annihilate you! 

 

The raw, screeching, hysterical laughter grated on his ears, and suddenly he knew, as all eyes in the courtroom locked on him, that the noise was his own!  Yes, he could not contain his amusement!  He still had weapons left to hurt and torture his victims – revenge was still in his grasp. Through Williams, again, he could win. His life was nothing except an instrument for justice. He and Frank would be revealed as the victims. The vicious beasts of Five-0 would be unveiled as the assailants. And their vulnerabilities and degradation would be laid bare for the entire world to see!

 

Both detectives had been lectured before Bergman finally gave the recovering officer a release to go home. The warnings about drug reactions and residual effects were still echoing around on the walls of his brain, but the head of Five-0 was confident that Williams would soon be back to normal. He was certain the best way to achieve that state was to return Danno to the comfort zone of work and home, among familiar and caring ohana, who would help him through the recovery. Just how much time that meant was uncertain, but determined it would be as quickly as possible for the sanity of both of them.

 

McGarrett wasted no time in collecting Williams, who seemed oddly apprehensive, given his desire to be discharged. The drive from the hospital was endured predominantly in silence. McGarrett strained to think of ways to ease the tension, his companion mutely stressed for probably a myriad of reasons. When they pulled up in front of Williams’ condo, Dan was still in the car, looking around, studying the building after McGarrett had exited the car and retrieved the duffle bag in the trunk.

 

“Everything okay?” McGarrett asked as he opened the passenger door.

 

“Fine,” Williams responded curtly, unconvincingly.

 

His first big trial after his release from the hospital and Williams found it to be embarrassingly difficult. All he had to do was get out of the car and get to the apartment building!  So what if Steve had parked near the underground garage – as usual – for easy access to the lobby? So what if it meant going back into the dark, cool, shrouded confines of the garage? He flinched just remembering the attack – the cloying scent of the cheap aftershave – he coughed, nearly gagging at the vivid remembrance of Blane’s odor. The terror when he realized he’d been hit with a tranquilizer dart. The ache of being beaten down. The dread of being overpowered in the dark; the subjugation, the helplessness and anguish as the needle was pushed into his arm –

 

“Danno?”

 

“Yeah,” he shot back too quickly, but still not moving.

 

An older couple walking a dog wandered past them and nodded a pleasant greeting. A jogger dodged the open car door, oblivious to the men. A tourist stood on the sidewalk and snapped pictures of the picturesque Kalakaua Avenue with its line of canopying trees.

 

Reminding himself that the brain was in control, Williams knew he could overcome this first trial over fear. And if he could not find the strength within him, he could lean on his friend for additional assurance. Nobody was lying in wait in the shadows. If there was, McGarrett – armed and valiant as his protector in all aspects – would be there for him.

 

Williams exited the car and walked down the sidewalk toward the front entrance of the apartment building. Surprised at the atypical route – going through the garage to the nearby lobby was a shortcut usually taken by both men – McGarrett followed along. He caught up to his friend at the elevators in the open-air foyer and silently observed as Williams punched the button a few times before the doors opened. More than once while waiting, Dan cast a furtive glance over his shoulder to the sidewalk. Steve followed the line of sight and spotted the couple and the dog, then a glimpse of the photographer as she walked down the street.

 

Instead of bolting inside the elevator, as the chief expected, Williams became completely still when the automatic doors opened. The doors started to slide shut and McGarrett placed his hand on one side to freeze the mechanical closure.

 

“Danno?” he inquired gently, acutely aware that something was wrong. “What’s up?” He hoped his voice sounded casual and easy, a perfect counterpoint to his strained nerves and the siren inside his brain sounding that his friend’s behavior was way off balance.

 

“I –think – the stairs – might be better.”  Dan offered slowly as he looked in the direction of the stairwell door.

 

McGarrett applied a firm hand to his friend’s arm. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he quietly commanded.

 

Williams didn't make eye contact. “I just need – the exercise.”

 

Frustrated at the communication blockade, he sighed. “Danno, it’s nine floors up to your apartment!”  He reminded needlessly. “Even if I didn’t have Bergman’s warnings about your health still ringing in my ears, I would not let you hike up nine floors fresh out of a hospital stay! What’s wrong?”

 

Williams shook his head, adamantly denying a problem as he reluctantly crossed the elevator threshold and the doors closed behind them.

 

McGarrett followed, hitting the 9 on the control board, and observed his friend for the entire, uncommunicative journey. Fighting his natural impatience, he mentally stepped back and tried to excuse the behavior. Danno had been through so much, he had to have time to recover, naturally. Steve had been a major party to allowing the horrible kidnapping and resulting mistreatment. He had to do everything he could to make up for the incredible blindness that created this crisis. Being patient and understanding was naturally expected because they were friends. That his guilt pushed him to go the extra mile was no surprise. If it meant keeping quiet, not pushing his friend, restraining his urge to make things happen NOW – then that’s what he would do to make things right.

 

To disregard the closeness of the elevator, Williams stared at the lighted numbers above the door as each floor ticked past. It was crazy to be afraid -- he was coming home!  There was no threat!  Steve was here!  His friend was his shelter, a port in his emotionally stormy sea. That anchor of stability calmed him and his breathing eased, knowing there was no reason to fear, despite the fact he was in an enclosed – trapped -- space. Nonetheless, when they exited, he breathed out a sigh of relief.

 

Entering the apartment, Steve relaxed slightly. This was a comfortable, nice bachelor pad with a casual Island/Oriental motif that accentuated the homey feeling. The constant susurrus of ocean waves just out the lanai made the meditative atmosphere complete. Tossing the bag on the sofa, he moved to open the curtains and the lanai door to allow in the fresh sea breeze and melodious, calming background of the surf against the reef. The apartment was slightly stuffy after being closed up for days, and the clean, bracing air felt especially good. Symbolically hoping for a refreshing renewal for Danno, he opened the door all the way so as much trade wind as possible could blow out the staleness. When he turned back, his nerves tightened.

 

Danno was pacing around the rooms, moving slowly from the living room to the kitchen, to the bedroom, and back. Reconnoitering – searching – wary. For a threat? The behavior was all too familiar to him and he felt, as deep as his marrow, an echo – his own flash of recurring fear -- whenever things were too close, too confined. His mirrored residual effects from being captured and tortured as a prisoner of war in Korea. Danno was feeling those symptoms now, he was disheartened to know. The wish to avoid the elevator was a prime example. Now, warily patrolling his home was a sign that Williams did not feel completely relaxed here anymore. Would he be content anywhere?

 

The reaction of avoiding the garage – McGarrett felt thick for not understanding that stemmed from being snatched in the dark reaches there. Five-0’s investigation of the kidnapping uncovered the evidence of the struggle, the emptied syringe in the maintenance room not far from Danno’s parking slots. No wonder he wanted to avoid the area!  Now, even in his own home, it would take time for him to feel secure again in a place he knew well.

 

Reminding himself he was not going to push, McGarrett managed to convey ease, disguising the tension within, as he casually strolled into the kitchen.

 

“Hey, Doris and Mai weren't kidding when they promised they’d take care of you.” He smiled as he stared into the fridge. “I think you have enough here for a week. I might have to join you for dinner.”

 

Williams had moved to the lanai and was standing outside, leaning on the rail. The boss stood in the doorway. “That sound okay, Danno?”

 

“What?” the younger detective asked, turning around.

 

Leaning his hip on the rail, Steve took note of Danno’s tense stance, the strangling grip both fists had on the metal. McGarrett looked out in the distance, not at the ocean, not seeing the clear blue sky or the undulating, azure sea. In his mind’s eye he saw a rerun of the film, of Danno cornered, terrified, suffering in a dark, cold cell. Nearly transposed over that was the never-distant recollection of a steamy jungle, a bamboo cage, a North Korean hitting him…

 

“Steve?"

 

“What?"

 

"You groaned.”

 

About to brush off the comment, Steve stopped himself. He had just been frustrated with Danno for not admitting something was wrong, not detailing it, not letting him help. He was about to stonewall in the same manner. "It’s okay, Danno,” he quietly assured, changing his mind. How could his friend be open and ready for recovery if he didn't see the same thing in Steve? Maybe his tortured nightmares would help his friend overcome the terror of similar captivity. “It’s okay to react to the memories. Just remember, my friend, they are insubstantial, mental images. It’s history. It’s over. You’re safe now, I promise you that.”

 

He looked down to see Williams hold on to the wrought iron rail eased a bit. “Yeah. Mahalo.”

 

McGarrett repeated his decision to come over for dinner.

 

“Yeah, sure,” Williams almost smiled. “That’d be great. Are you hungry now? We could eat. You’re going to stay, right?”

 

That was not in his plan for the day, but McGarrett made an instant choice, based on instinct, on the tone and expression from his friend, and what he knew was needed for both of them. “Sure.”

 

 

*****

 

“You sure you want to hear the rest?”

 

“Yeah,” Williams quietly responded, head leaning back against the back of the couch. “You didn’t tell me how Chin nailed Shem.”

 

“I should let Chin tell it,” McGarrett hedged as he opened the fridge and poured more juice into a glass. Taking it back to the coffee table, he placed it in front of his friend. Checking the dinner plate, noting Williams had eaten no more of his food, McGarrett handed it to him. “If you don’t eat Doris and Mai are going to lecture me.”

 

“Steve, I’m stuffed. Just tell them it was great. Now what did Chin do?” he yawned.

 

Crossing back to the kitchen with the plates, McGarrett glossed over a courtroom scene where Kelly had delivered the final touches on a case that had put away a criminal for life. Danno had helped with the case at the beginning, but Jacobs had changed the way things turned out by kidnapping the second-in-command. Five-0 still won the case, while Williams was recovering in the hospital. The less said about that horrible week the better.

 

After wrapping the vegetables in aluminum foil, McGarrett cleared a space in the small fridge for the leftover meat and cheese, wondering how Mai and Doris managed to stuff so much food into such a tiny space. Covering up the plate of lunchmeat, he frowned, noting again that Williams hardly ate any of the light, but tasty meal. The younger officer’s appetite was not back up to speed yet, but Steve kept assuring himself that it would return soon. Only a matter of time. Give him a few days back at home, resting in his own bed, eating decent food and surrounded by friends. Then, when he regained his balance, it would be back to work on light duty: McGarrett’s tried and true formula for healing. Always successful in the past, he was certain it would pull them through this crisis, too.

 

Turning from the fridge, he gazed over the kitchen bar to note his friend slumped in the corner of the sofa, slumbering. Only a matter of days, he assured himself. Still concerned over Danno’s recuperation, he was glad his friend was dozing. It underscored his philosophy that being out of the hospital was a benefit. Yeah, Bergman had scared him with the drug effects lectures, but it all seemed overkill now. Erring on the safe side was all right. It was a little annoying for Danno to be in the hospital a few extra days, but it was all right now.

 

For a moment, he paused at the end of the sofa, studying the sleeping detective. At least the nightmares seemed to be over. If only the insidious drug would completely fade from Danno’s system and purge the insomnia that still plagued him, and the lack of appetite. Those two items could keep wearing down the weak officer. Not as much as the emotional and physical drain of nightmares, though, Steve considered, thankful they were in the last stages of this dreadful experience. At least Danno hadn’t talked about the nightmares – correction – admitted to -- the nightmares.

 

Quietly exiting the apartment, McGarrett turned the car around in the garage driveway and stopped, staring into the shadows of the underground structure. Mostly dark, dim light shining from weak florescent tubes, Steve’s skin chilled as he imagined that night when his friend had been abducted from this familiar, once safe territory. No wonder Danno wanted to avoid it now.

 

Somber retrospection lasted for only a few blocks as he drove to the Palace, the windows down in the sedan. By the time he reached the office, McGarrett felt much better by constantly reminding himself that Danno was going to be fine in a few days.

Two of the night security guards greeted him at the front door. One of them gave him a smile and nod, but the other approached and offered a salute.

 

“Working late tonight, hey, Mr. McGarrett?”

 

“Yeah, Ernie, one of those nights.”

 

“Usual Five-0 night then. Say, tell Danny we’re all wishing him the best, will you?”

 

“Sure, Ernie.”

 

The guard unlocked the front door and McGarrett stopped, pausing a moment, surprised at the odd shapes vaguely outlined by bulky tarps. One floodlight shone at the back of the main foyer, the other spotlights were off. Sighing, he continued through the first floor of the old Royal residence. He had forgotten there was a historical display coming next week. Some ancient relics from the monarchy era of the Palace, he sighed with frustration. While he had great respect for the old kings and queen, this was HIS Palace now and Five-0 had a job to do!  Which was not any easier with tours and sightseeing mobs underfoot.

 

The office was a bit stuffy and it reminded him to glance at the clock. After 9pm!  He didn’t know he had spent so much time at Danno’s. But his friend needed the company and wouldn’t have eaten a thing probably if he hadn’t been there to take care of things.

 

Snapping on the light in his office, he opened the lanai doors and allowed the warm ocean breeze to freshen the room. Removing his loosened tie, he unfolded a newspaper that Jenny must have left there. The sharp gasp sounded loud in the silent, near-empty room. Rereading the headline, checking the shocking message a second time, did not lessen the impact of the bitter news.

 

JACOBS HIRES “SHARK” SHEM

 

The growl built from the back of his throat and he slapped the paper on the desk several times, finally tossing it onto a nearby chair. Leonard “Shark” Shem - a notorious Hawaiian legend in the legal circles of Honolulu, a rich, famous and cut-throat lawyer who deserved his nickname. Shem was a deceptively slight man with thinning hair and round wire spectacles. Known for drawing figurative blood (in the courtroom) as well as being attracted by the scent of it, he was hated and respected and known to law enforcement throughout the Pacific Rim.

 

Shem cost big money and only took the most high-profile, high-paying jobs. How could Jacobs afford him? Even a veterinarian would probably not have the funds to sustain the attorney’s outrageous rates. And why would Shem take the case of the twisted criminal who had been caught red-handed for kidnapping, assault on a police officer and a variety of other charges? The why – well perhaps that was easier explained than the how. Shem had been royally trounced in court by Five-0 only last week. A case that Danno had started and could not finish, but Chin had handled for him. While Danno was still in the hospital, Kelly had given damning testimony against Shem’s client and the criminal was now commencing a life term. Shem didn’t lose often, and when he did he was livid and bitter towards the DA and the law enforcement officers responsible. Still, it was disturbingly unusual. Shem took on cases he would probably win, and defending a sick torturer who was not only caught red-handed, but taunting and goading the police, was worrisome.

 

McGarrett sat back in his chair and pondered the news. Eyes scanning the papers on his desk, he finally focused on three memos on the blotter. Sitting up he read the notes in Jenny’s handwriting.

 

Steve, call Manicote when you get back in –

 

Call Manicote as soon as possible –

 

Call Manicote!! 

 

Knowing it must be urgent, and thankful John had not tried to reach him at Danno’s, he dialed the DA’s home number. The phone was picked up on the first ring.

 

“John— “

 

“Steve, good thing you called tonight.” 

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“I wanted you to hear it from me first.”  His voice was strained and sharp.

 

McGarrett braced himself for bad news. “What?”

 

“Jacobs has retained Leo Shem as his council.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve growled back, “I just read the headline.”

 

“Well here’s tomorrow’s headline. They filed just before the courts closed today. Jacobs is pleading not guilty!”

 

McGarrett jumped out of the chair. “What?” The absurdity of the idea was too much. “That is insane!”

 

“Well, I almost wish they would have tried that,” Manicote shot back with ire. “Insanity I can handle.”

 

“John, you know this is nuts – “

 

“I know, Steve, but I’m worried.”

 

“I was an eyewitness to what he did to Danno!”  McGarrett shouted so fiercely he heard the reverberating echo along his office walls. “I was there when Danno was running for his life!”

 

“Steve, Steve, I know, I’m on your side!  I just want to remind you that Shark Shem doesn’t take on cases he might lose.”

 

“Yeah, well we bloodied his nose on the Windsor case, John.”

 

“And he’s not going to forget that, Steve.”

 

“You think he took on Jacobs as a way to get back at us?” McGarrett considered, sitting down again in the chair he had angrily launched from moments ago. “He’s got no chance, John.”

 

“I know, but make sure everything from your office has every I dotted and every T crossed, Steve.”

 

McGarrett thought back to that terrifying night on the pali when he had rescued his friend from Jacobs’ murderous trap. Williams condition -- the fear -- the blood – those moments never lived far from his mind. This was one case he would make sure they would not lose.

 

“You don’t have to worry about that, John, there is no way – NO WAY – he can win.”

 

Manicote cleared his throat. “Steve, did you ever consider winning to be just part of it? Do you know what this will mean for you and for – for Danny? A public trial, Steve. Everything will come out. The horrible kidnapping and the torture – “

 

“We can minimize the impact,” he promised himself as a fine sweat broke out on his forehead. Despite the breeze from outside, his temperature had risen. “We can bring this to a close before things get ugly,” he said, but his conviction was hollow. Throat dry, he vowed, “They can’t get Jacobs off. And I won’t let them hurt Danno ever again.”

 

*****

 

After a restless night that left McGarrett more fatigued than when he went to bed, he engaged in a power-jog in half his usual time, retaining most of his normal route. When he opened his door on his way to the office the early morning paper was in the hall. Scanning the headline made him sneer.

 

VET JACOBS CLAIMS INNOCENCE

 

McGarrett snorted at the ironic and distasteful pun. There was nothing in the least innocent about Jacobs!  Just as Manicote had predicted, the column headings and articles were making Jacobs into a celebrity in a sensational scandal. The press was eating up the juicy notoriety of the seedy criminal and his despicable offense. How the reporters dug up so much information was a mystery, but he figured Jacobs had nothing better to do than cry his case to anyone who would listen at the hospital.

 

The media found it irresistible exposing every possible detail of the triangle of the ex-con, the bank president, and the vet who had kidnapped a Five-0 officer. Rumors were flying down the coconut wireless about the captivity. Speculations were running wild and Steve distanced himself from reading or listening to local gossip. It was impossible, though, to completely avoid the radical guess work rippling through Honolulu. Leaks were inevitable, but fortunately, none were coming from the cops. HPD was solidly behind Williams and from what Steve overheard in conversations or scanning the papers for the past week, no one knew the extent of the torture or drug influence on the victimized officer.

 

As his eye caught too many words about the hospital stay and “battered” condition of Williams, McGarrett wondered if maybe Five-0 should issue a stronger press statement. They had stuck to the scarcest facts of the crime, but he could see with Jacobs’ tactic of over-the-top publicity and hiring a notorious and flashy attorney, maybe he should change his strategy. Revealing too much, however, would compromise Danno. In another few weeks, his second-in-command had to be back on the job and too much detail about the imprisonment might hamper his abilities.

 

Angrily, Steve stopped the mental tap dance. He was protecting Danno from the nastiness as long as he could, the best he could. Already the coconut wireless was insinuating all kinds of things. Steve had avoided pressing Dan about details of his cruel detention. He knew well enough from the horrific film what had happened on camera. That was bad enough. He didn’t want to ask – didn’t want to know – anything else. If Jacobs kept feeding stories to the press, however, the public would be openly speculating. How was Steve to protect his friend from that?

 

McGarrett left his condo and gunned the car onto Ala Wai Boulevard. Strangling the steering wheel in frustration, he knew if this came to a full trial innumerable nasty questions might surface. He would have to work closely with Manicote to make sure they kept as much control of the fiasco as possible. If only Jacobs would have died on that pali…

 

Traffic downtown was light at this hour of the morning. The streets wet and the air fresh from a pre-dawn rain shower. Sunlight was filtering through the palms when he cruised up to the Palace. Not pausing to chat with the security guards in the lobby, he went straight to the office. While his thoughts had frequently strayed to Williams this morning, imagining Danno was at least resting well at home, he avoided the temptation to go check on his friend today before 7am. First, he would put some work issues in motion then give Danno a call later.

 

*****

 

Exhausted, Williams kept his eyes open through concerted effort and finally pushed himself to sit up. He held his head in his hands and stared at the carpet, determined not to close his eyes. The monsters, the demons skulking in the dark reaches of his mind were there in the blackness, behind the eyelids. Hands grasping and clawing and clutching at him…

 

Shaking his head, he shuffled to the kitchen and started brewing some coffee, then noted he had brewed some last night – yeah – he had been up so many times he lost track. Made coffee, drank some juice, stood out on the lanai for a while – anything to keep the nightmares at bay.

 

The sun was up now and he forced himself not to sit, so he paced while he heated up the coffee. Feeling gritty and ill with dread and fatigue, he was at least grateful he was at home. They wouldn’t let him get away with much at the hospital, under the watchful eye of Bergman and his wife and his other ohana. Now he could at least endure the inner torment alone.

 

Sipping the tepid brew, he paced the lanai, feeling caged. The thought brought to mind Bergman’s story about the bear and the tiger and he shivered, wishing he could interview one of those animals. Maybe they could tell him how to get rid of the demons. At least the sun on his skin was warm, counteracting the memory of chilling fear, and being trapped in a cold, dark place.

 

He had to get out!  Dressing in shorts, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes, he thought he might try a jog. Not bothering to stretch, just needing to be free, he passed the elevator and hurried down the stairs. The stairwell was confining, but not a dark cage, and at least it had a way out at the bottom.

 

Finding he didn’t have the energy for his usual jog along Kalakaua this morning, the brisk walk was still a welcome escape from his apartment. The new sun rising in the sky, the warmth sweeping over the sand, the rain-kissed breeze, and the hint of fresh flowers everywhere, instilled some much-needed vigor into his being. As the break-of-day rays hit the Waikiki waves, they seemed to dance in the silver sparkles. The few people out were happy, renewed, and enjoying the pristine commencement of post-dawn.

 

Sitting on a block wall by the Natatorium, Williams caught his breath and tried to absorb the clean clarity of nature. Sounds, smells and sights drifted by, yet he felt detached from the people running, strolling to breakfast, walking their dogs, snapping pictures –

 

The girl with the camera was pointing it right at him he noted and suddenly his fatigue was washed out by a darker emotion. Jolting to alertness, he moved away as fast as his wrung-out system would take him, weaving in and out of the trees near the beach, stumbling into the surf to avoid more photographers on the shore.

 

Meandering back onto the damp sand, he ran right into a football-player-built, sunburned tourist with a coffee in one hand and a paper in the other. The solid, blond, crew-cut, red-faced man grunted with surprise and displeasure as the beverage and the newspaper went flying.

 

Dan fumbled to keep from falling, nearly bouncing off the solid bulk. Backing away, he picked up the paper to hand to the man and glanced at the front page. He read the headline several times before he realized the article was about him – Jacobs – Adams -- the kidnapping. The blond, sunburned tourist was snarling at him. Despite the warmth and crowds, he felt the cold darkness descend like a smothering snare around him.

 

Rattled with the need to flee, he muttered his apology and plodded off down the beach, thinking only of escape. The sea – a natural refuge, an old friend – was at hand and he dove into the water and swam until he was almost too tired to stay afloat. Allowing the surf to take him in, he came to rest not far from his apartment. Too exhausted to move, he stayed in the baking, comforting sand.

 

When he tuned in again to his surroundings an unclear period of time later, he felt groggy, with more indistinct visions just barely out of conscious reach – as if the images had fled with the light of day. Slowly sitting up, he leaned his hands into the beach, savoring the lap of cool water ebbing and flowing around his ankles. He knew his actions were irrational and bizarre, yet uncontrollable. Amid the growing crowd of Waikiki, he felt a terrible, dark, indistinct and unnamed fear. Even in the bright Hawaiian day and amid countless people, he felt vulnerable and exposed. He had to find shelter from the fears – but they were emanating from the inside!  How could he hide from his own anxiety?

 

Lacking answers to his pressing self-doubts, he shifted to an instinctive resolution to his most basic feelings. He was insecure, afraid and confused. He should be getting better, right? Yet the nightmares, the unknown anxiety, the inner turmoil continued. Why was he falling apart? How could he rid himself of these terrors? What did he usually do to rectify problems? Work. There was no way he could go back to work yet. He wasn’t ready and Steve would never allow him near the office. What was at work that made him feel safe? His routine, keeping busy, his ohana. Ohana. Steve. His pu’uhonua – refuge – safe harbor.

 

*****

 

McGarrett slammed the door, rattling the elegantly designed etched-glass of the Palace’s historic entryway. He nearly collided with two portable light stands set up for the history exhibit in the foyer. Trotting up to the Five-0 office, temper still flashing from the hearing, he hoped his expression alone warned off anyone’s attempt to converse with him. Right now, he was too livid to even think straight. Jenny was the only one to approach him, as she handed him memos.

 

She mentioned something about Bergmans dropping off food for Williams. Sailing right past her, he slammed his office door and went right to the lanai where he smashed it open. Pacing outside in the warm sun, feeling the refreshing breeze ruffle his hair, he drew in deep breaths of plumeria-scented air.

 

There was nothing he could do about the judge’s decisions made in the preliminary hearing. Jacobs was considered fit to stand trial. Shem and Jacobs together were a team from Hell. Both were dedicated to destroying Five-0. That idiot would probably bury himself from his insanity – Steve's words not the judge's. But it also meant he could get way out of control with questions and comments, exposing details about the kidnapping that Steve did not want publicized. The criminal was a wild card that could only hurt Danno. And the way Jacobs stared at him -- pure hatred. Instead of being unnerved by the threat, it revitalized his passion to get this over with as soon as possible. It also drove home that it was imperative to prepare Danno for the worst. This trial was not going away quietly or easily, and it was bound to get a lot more painful before they saw an end to the psychological pain.

 

Perhaps the frustration over his lack of control was making a bad situation worse. It was a personal failure that he could not protect Danno from Jacobs and Shem. It reminded him all too forcefully that this whole criminal action against Danno had been his fault.

 

The slamming of a car door broke the reverie and he glanced over the railing of the lanai. He nearly yelped in unpleasant surprise as he watched Dan Williams exit a taxi at the front steps of the Palace. Racing through his office and past a startled staff, he rushed downstairs to meet his friend.

 

McGarrett flew out the front door and just at the top of the exterior steps he met Williams about to enter the building. Irritation at Danno’s appearance here was uppermost in his mind as he had jogged through the halls and downstairs. What was his friend thinking coming here? He was in no condition to be wandering around on his own. The recriminations died on his lips, however, when he came face to face with Williams. The worn-out officer was clearly not himself; red-eyed, gaunt, and dressed in Aloha shirt, shorts and deck shoes, he obviously had not come here to report for work.

 

Meeting the troubled blue eyes, McGarrett knew this was not a casual visit. There was a lot going on behind those storm-chased eyes and he chastised himself for not calling his friend earlier to check up on him. The younger officer did not look rested or relaxed, despite the evidence of beach time, as he had hoped would happen with Danno back home.

 

“Danno, are you all right?”

 

It was evident he was not, but Steve didn’t know how to approach this spontaneous visit.

 

“I – uh –” he shrugged, searching for the right explanation. “Felt like I needed to be here.”

 

“Okay,” McGarrett nodded, wanting to find out the mystery just under the surface. Something was wrong, just like when he had taken Danno home earlier. Why wouldn't he just talk!  Studying the wan expression with a little more patience, it almost seemed like Danno didn’t know what – couldn’t define it – and neither could Steve right now. Perhaps something intangible but comforting, like a friend?

 

“Okay. Listen, I need to finish up a few things then I’ll drive you home.”

 

Williams agreed, and the pair entered the lobby. For the sake of a casual air, McGarrett – noting his friend’s examination of the alien objects in the entryway – explained the historic display on exhibit at the end of the week. The head of Five-0 kept walking, his officer at his side, when Williams suddenly jumped, knocking into his shoulder, and shied away from the wall of the lobby.

 

Startled at the surprised reaction, McGarrett stared at him for a moment. Approaching warily, he quietly uttered, “Danno?”

 

Williams only nodded.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “Didn’t you –” his unfocused eyes turned to stare at his leader. “You didn’t – uh – no – you don’t feel anything wrong do you? It’s me.”

 

Scared and confused, McGarrett stood close to him, holding his shoulder under a firm grip. “It’s all right, Danno. Why don’t I just take you home?”

 

“No.” The rebuttal was certain.

 

“You can’t stay here like this.” The elder cop’s announcement was the blunt truth.

 

Their eyes held for a moment, then Dan gave a slight nod. “You’re right!  I’m – I’m a mess,” he shakily admitted.

 

“You’re recovering from a rough time,” McGarrett corrected firmly. “The drugs are still running riot in your system. But you’re going to get through this. Danno? Right?” When there was no response, McGarrett, more forcefully, repeated, “Right?”

 

“Yeah,” he agreed without conviction.

 

“All right. You stay here, I’ll be right back. Okay? You stay here.” It was not a question or suggestion, it was an order. McGarrett turned and jogged up the steps, turning back several times to make sure his officer was rooted just where he left him.

 

After the boss disappeared on the upper-level hall, Williams slumped against the wall. What was wrong with him? He had come here for a sense of protection, and found it, but things were all out of whack again!

 

“Hey, Danny, how’s it?” came a voice from the back of the lobby.

 

Williams looked toward the voice echoing from the shadows. The bulky, indistinct figure sent a chill of fear snaking up his spine as it approached.

 

HE was coming – out of the shadows – threatening –

 

Pressing his back against the wall, he held his breath until the tall, broad, muscular Polynesian in an HPD uniform came into the light.

 

“Didn’t expect to see you here so soon.”

 

“Pete,” he sighed with a huge, deep breath. “Hi.”

 

Who had he thought was coming for him? His haunting specter from the depths of his dreams WAS NOT REAL!  How could he react to a dream – a nightmare – a dream within a dream...

 

He didn’t want to explore the possibilities of what was happening to him. Because even in the stark reality of the day – standing here in the familiar realm of the Palace and talking to someone who represented safety – something in the recesses of his mind dwelled on the ghosts that pressed even more closely upon his consciousness every night.

 

“You doin’ all right? Look like you could use a little more rest, yeah? Been readin’ all about that scum that snatched you, man,” the HPD officer sympathetically told him. “Nasty.”

 

The frightening image of a murderous, vicious Blane shot immediately into his mind. So much of his capture had been blurred by the pain and the drugs, but some images and emotions he could never forget. Nasty, yeah, even now his skin crawled at the thought of the sadistic ex-con. Even in the presence of a fellow officer, within the walls of his home office, with McGarrett just upstairs, Williams still felt a chill of trepidation standing within the tepidly-warm lobby. Suddenly it was too close and dark for his nerves. He needed air and sunlight and some way to wash out the bitter memories that surged up unbidden.

 

“Tell Steve I’ll catch him later,” he announced quickly and excused himself. With that, he slipped quickly along the wall to the door.

 

Once outside, he limped down the steps, then walked over to the old bandstand in the center of the front lawn, suddenly mindful of the healing foot. Sitting down on the creaking, wooden steps, he caught his breath and closed his eyes, enjoying the scent of sweet blossoms, cherishing the sense of the heat on his skin. The brightness drove away the shadows even in his mind and, for a moment, he savored the freedom.

 

It gave him a chance to think a little more clearly and his first response was embarrassment. What was he thinking showing up here? Steve must think him a lunatic!  How was he going to convince anyone he was over this and back to normal? He wasn’t, he knew, but what was more important was projecting the image of being recovered. Only with a return to the status quo could he go back to work and be among his ohana.

 

It was an odd and almost-sad position in which he found himself. His unwellness prevented him from being admitted back into the fold, where he knew he had to be to recover.

 

Settled down – worn down – with fatigue -- Williams leaned his head against the rail and closed his eyes. What was he doing here except bothering Steve? The head of Five-0 had better things to do than sitting around with him. What would Steve think if he knew about the nightmares? About the persistent, dire feelings of anxiety? What about his worry -- paranoia – that Blane could still reach him – that he was not safe yet from the murderous, violent criminal!  Dan could quote Bergman about the lingering effects of the DHQ, but that sounded all too much an echo of how this all started before he was kidnapped: teased, pressured into believing that what happened was in his imagination. Now here he was again, mentally replaying some of the it's-all-in-your-head assertions.

 

Trying to shake off the weariness, he didn’t want to fall asleep, though his depleted body seemed unable to resist. There was tranquility in the calming sea breeze; the warm sun, the security of being here – even on the periphery - at his most familiar landmark, with friends at least nearby, albeit unseen. All combined to give him a serenity lacking for a long time. The exhaustion could not win against such potent incentives and he felt himself drifting into a doze.

 

*****

 

Jogging back up to the Five-0 wing, McGarrett dramatically slowed his pace when he noticed everyone in the common room anxiously watching him. Keeping a steady stride, he snapped out orders as he continued into his office.

 

“Jenny, bring in your calendar. Chin, Ben, I’ll need you to coordinate a few things for me.”  Hastily checking his desk calendar, he scanned for pertinent and urgent business. “This luncheon with Manicote, Chin, you can handle that. I want you to emphasize he needs to keep on top of the Jacobs case.”

 

“Will do, boss.”

 

“Ben, two HPD cases are overlapping with high-end burglaries Danno was working on last month. Chief Grover wants to coordinate. Let him know we are short on manpower and Five-0 is taking only an advisory position at this time.”

 

“Lucky me,” Ben sighed with a shake of his head.

 

The comment was ignored by the boss, who was rapidly leafing through his appointment book. “Jenny, I have a meeting with the Pacific Art Museum manager over security for the exhibit downstairs. Reschedule. Everything else – just put it off for a few days. I’ll need a flexible schedule.”

 

“Done,” Jenny assured, making notes on a pad, then stopped to give him her full, sober attention. “Does this have something to do with Danny?”

 

Assessing the serious expressions of his subordinates, he knew he needed to level with these people who were worried about the youngest member of their ohana. Touched at the strong unity between them all, he valued the compelling power that came from their positive energy directed at Williams.

 

“Yes, Jenny, it’s about Danno. He’s okay. He’s just feeling a little – displaced – right now. He needs a little – direction.” Attention. His friend needed him to be at his side right now. Not at the office, not chasing criminals – or even pounding down on top of Jacobs and his attorney. Danno needed his undivided support. If that meant taking his friend sightseeing or out on a boat or sitting together on the beach, then he would do it, whatever it was going to take. “I’m going to try to spend as much time as I can with him until he’s settled a little more.”

 

“Good,” Jenny gave her blessing immediately. “Tell him we’re pulling for him!”

 

“Don’t worry about a thing, boss, we’ve got it under control,” Chin added his support.

 

“Let him know I’ll take care of his case,” Ben promised.

 

“Mahalo. I know Danno will appreciate it as much as I do.”

 

The detectives took the appropriate files and McGarrett tidied his desk. He expected to be back later this afternoon or evening, but he wasn’t sure. The mission about to be undertaken was not something that could be placed on a timetable or schedule. Healing of spirit, mind and body – how long would that take for Danno? With the complication of horrible torture and drugs, he knew it was not going to be easy or quick. Bergman had warned him about that.

 

Instead of seeing Williams’ disheveled appearance here this morning as a set-back, he viewed it as part of the recovery process. He had hoped being ousted from the hospital would mean a quick road back to full health. Looked like the road was going to be a little more winding and longer than anticipated. There was, however, every reason for optimism. That Danno came here was a call for help, or direction, and Steve was happy to provide both. Danno would return to normal soon. In the meantime, he could sacrifice a few hours to help along the recovery. He would do a lot more if he had to, just as long as Danno came out of this all right.

 

Locking up his desk, Jenny returned with a brown bag. “The latest treats from Mai and the Kelly kids. Smells like chocolate chip cookies and pineapple and mango turnovers. Do you think he has enough to eat?”

 

If the situation wasn’t so grim, McGarrett would have laughed. Remembering the packed fridge he had seen last night at Williams’ apartment, and considering how little Danno ate for dinner, he knew there was not going to be a problem with supplies.

 

“I’m sure he does,” the boss replied with a smile. “If only we could heal him with cookies, huh, Jenny?” was his almost whispered comment.

 

“He’ll be all right, boss. I know you’ll make sure of that.”

 

“I will, Jenny.”

 

Exiting the office at a more leisurely pace this time, McGarrett pondered his comments to the staff, considering them inspired by instinct – by his ability to read Williams so clearly. Danno was feeling dislocated, confused, still suffering from the rotten drug. All McGarrett knew to do for him was be there as a friend. In the past, that formula had worked well – when Danno’s girlfriend was murdered, when Danno was involved in emotional cases – it was their unity which pulled him through. Steve knew it was that bond between them that had brought him out of various crises, too. He considered it an honor to return the favor whenever possible.

 

Spending only a moment glancing around the lobby was enough to realize Williams had not remained where he was supposed to stay. Asking the guard, he learned the recovering officer had wandered Ewa on the Palace grounds. Standing on the steps of the building, McGarrett scanned the lawn and trees bathed in bright sunlight. Spying the canted figure sitting on the bandstand steps, he felt a ripple of disturbance. Approaching at a rapid stride, he had a near-panicky flash about the tiger and bears. As he detected signs of movement, his tread decreased until he came to a stop next to the steps. The younger officer was either dozing or deep in the throes of some mental machinations, as he did not seem to be aware of the Five-0 chief’s approach.

 

A surge of compassion, even pity for his friend flashed momentarily, quickly replaced by a resounding pride. Williams was resilient, tough and a scrappy survivor – witness his ordeal and arduous recovery. He would get through this. Maybe he would need a little help, but he would survive – more – vanquish – the horrors and bounce back. To see it through, he might need a little guidance, understanding, maybe just something as simple as traditional, quiet dinners with his big brother.

 

“Danno.”

 

Williams started, looking around quickly and breathing easier when he saw McGarrett.

 

“Steve.”

 

McGarrett sat down next to him on the wooden step. “You look pretty washed out.”

 

“I’m fine,” he countered quickly.

 

Momentarily, Dan met his friend’s eyes and flinched at the compassion there. Steve still felt guilty about his doubts over the paranoia that turned out to be real. The sooner he achieved a level of seeming normal, the faster everyone would feel better, mostly Steve. The dubious glance clued him in that the boss was not buying his words. He may not be too convincing yet, but determined to work at it.

 

Steve could feel his friend staring at him even after he looked away. The look made it seem like there was mind-reading at work, too. No surprise. They seemed to share that uncanny ability. “You’ve only been out of the hospital for a day, Danno. You need to give yourself a break. Take it easy.”

 

“Okay, I’m tired, but I’m a lot better, Steve. Don’t worry.”

 

“You’ve been through a lot, of course I’m worried.”  He placed his hand on Dan’s neck in a habitual show of affection. Dan pulled away. McGarrett frowned. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”  McGarrett stood and held onto Dan’s arm to help him up. When Williams shied away, Steve took a step back. “Sorry. And don’t forget your lotion next time.”  He started for the car, slowing his pace to fall back to keep abreast of the younger officer. “You eat yet?”

 

“I – had – a – little something,” he supplied, remembering some stale coffee, but nothing else. Had he eaten yet today? It wasn’t something he was interested in, so he wasn’t sure.

 

McGarrett handed him a brown bag. “Treats from Mai and the kids. You’re going to have to get back to jogging pretty soon if you eat all the food the girls keep fixing you.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Just not too soon,” McGarrett cautioned when they reached the car.

 

“Don’t you have to work?” Williams wondered before he opened the door. “I keep pulling you away – “

 

“It’s no problem, Danno, I have a whole staff of people waiting to snap to my orders.”  He grinned. “A few minutes to take you home is not cutting into my day.”

 

Once on the road, Williams seemed more relaxed. McGarrett couldn’t pinpoint the exact readings he was picking up from his friend, but he knew whatever was off-balance with Danno it was right at the edge of recognition. All he had to do was put together the clues. The fatigue, the residual DHQ-effects, the aftermath of a hospital stay – all could contribute to slow readjustment to normal life. Still, his instincts, his knowledge of his friend, made him certain there was something else.

 

“Mahalo,” Dan quietly commented as they cruised onto Ala Moana Boulevard.

 

The sun was dancing off the blue water of the harbor. A big cruise ship at the dock was a colorful beacon of good times. Happy tourists waving, chattering with such excitement the noise was noticeable as they drove past. It was a poignant reminder that most people came to these sunny tropical shores seeing only the beauty and fun of Hawaii. Recently, the Five-0 ohana’s taste of the darkness here had left a bruising impression of sobriety for them all.

 

“Mahalo for what?”

 

“For being here for me. I really appreciate it, Steve.”

 

Being here. Now. Yeah, that was easy. Swinging by for a hospital visit, or sharing a meal – no big deal. Where was he last week when Danno had asked him to believe he was being followed, when he felt nervous that someone was going to do McGarrett harm? His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he thought back to a crisis several years ago. When Danno’s girlfriend had been murdered, he had consoled his friend by promising to be there for him for any reason, any time, day or night. That promise had not been fulfilled last week, but it would be now.

 

“Whatever you need, Danno, I mean it.”  He patted his friend’s left shoulder and withdrew when Dan flinched. Sunburn, sunburn, he silently reminded.

 

Again, he sensed a vague, elusive discomfort that was not coming to light. Yet the message related without words, poignantly reaching him on another level. Danno’s visit to the Palace today meant he was trying to communicate. If only Steve could read the language.

 

Thinking back to the few words exchanged last night and this morning, Steve thought it might have been said already – if not in words, in deeds. Danno did not want to be alone. Understandable after his terrifying experiences. Something easily handled.

 

*****

 

Expecting to be dropped off at his apartment, Williams was surprised when Steve came up, then inside. Then he not only put away the food in the bag, but inventoried it as he did so, munching on a cookie and convincing Dan that he needed to sample a few of the treats.

 

Then McGarrett opened the lanai door and stepped out to lean on the railing, watching the surfers just off Diamond Head. Dan joined him, sitting on one of the chairs, and was surprised again when Steve removed his jacket, loosened his tie, and sat down in the other chair.

 

“Don’t you have to get back to the office?”

 

“You know Jenny, Chin and Ben are pretty efficient, Danno. They can handle things. How often do I get to spend my day with a view like this?”

 

About to object, the younger man held his thoughts. It was transparent that Steve was firmly into his big brother protection-mode. That defensive shielding was likely to pop up in various situations, but when Dan was injured it leaped to the forefront. After what he had been through this time his guardian seemed disinclined to release that sacred duty. It warmed Dan to know that – made him feel secure and safe and so trusting that he was tempted to try to sleep with Steve here to watch over him.

 

No, he couldn’t let Steve see the nightmares that were still plaguing him. His friend still felt horrible – responsible -- about the kidnapping and torture. How could he help Steve? Only one way. The quicker he got over the ordeal the faster Steve would recover, too.

 

“Steve, I’m all right,” he repeated, slumping down in the chair and propping his feet up on the small table between them. “No problem.” His lids closed over his eyes, the last conscious thought imprinted there being McGarrett’s wry grin.

 

*****

 

Knocking on the door to the apartment, McGarrett paused to gaze past the end of the walkway to the surf breaking on the reef, the waves a burnished gold rolling in the sharp intensity of the ginger-shaded clouds and orange sun. From here, the sound of muted breakers served as a stilling, comforting background. It served to ease away the rush of jet engines and motor traffic that had clogged his head since flying over from Hilo a few hours ago. Dealing with numerous decisions and case-related activities, it was late afternoon when he escaped the office, only to crawl through the heavy afternoon traffic to the tree-shaded serenity of Kalakaua Avenue by Diamond Head.

 

He knocked again, sifting thoughts, memories and impressions through his mind as he tapped his foot with impatience. In the two days he had been in Hilo he had talked several times to Danno. The recovering officer seemed in upbeat spirits and was already pestering him to return to work. Good signs. Before he left unexpectedly for the Big Island, Steve had managed frequent visits with his friend, stretching to some limited excursions. While Dan’s strength was slow to return, he seemed healthier and more grounded each day.

 

Finally giving up on the knocking, McGarrett tried the door. It was unlocked, and he stepped in, closing the door behind him. Not more than a few paces inside he stopped. Accustomed to instantly assessing a situation on almost an instinctive level, he knew his mind had snagged onto a subconscious alert status. Why?

 

The apartment was neat, the lanai door open to allow in a nice breeze. The curtains fluttered in the wind. The only sound aside from the faint surge of the tide. Perhaps Danno was sleeping? He was prone to unconventional naps, still striving to banish his fatigue. The sun cast a bright corridor of sepia-gold along the carpet, reflecting off a nearby lamp to display dancing prisms of sunbeams on the wall. Lamp. The lamp was on. The kitchen light and another lamp at the desk were on. The curtains were opened as far as possible – to allow in the maximum amount of sunshine? Strange. What did it mean? Had his friend been asleep all day and forgot to turn off the lights?

 

“Danno?”

 

He leaned around the corner of the Japanese screen to the bedroom. Empty. A sound from the lanai startled him and he walked cautiously across the living room, resisting the natural tendency to reach for his .38. That would be ridiculous here.  Still, something was putting him on alert . . . .

 

Sitting on the tile, in the farthest corner of the lanai, Williams’ back was wedged against the railing. The angled streams of sunlight seemed to drench him in gold. His expression reflected tired confusion, as if he had just awoken from a deep sleep.

 

“Steve!”

 

“Are you all right?” he asked, automatically reaching down to grab onto his friend’s arm and help him up from the awkward position.

 

Dan pulled his arm away, getting to his feet on his own. “Yeah. Just checking out the surfers,” he responded, rubbing his face to stimulate circulation.

 

“Sure,” McGarrett nodded, the alert sirens inside his brain echoing with scarlet intensity. “We’re still on for dinner at the yacht club, right?”

 

“Of course. Sorry I lost track of the time.”

 

“No problem. No rush. Not going to be too crowded on a Thursday night.”

 

A little self-consciously he wiped at his ruffled hair and stubbly beard. “Guess it looks like I’m a beach bum, huh?”

 

“You’re off duty,” McGarrett shrugged easily, though unhappy that Danno didn’t pay much attention to taking care of himself.

 

“I’ll go and get ready.”

 

Dan slipped past him, his shirt scraping on the edge of the sliding glass door as if trying to stay as far away from McGarrett as possible. While waiting, McGarrett studied the rooms, utilizing his professional capacity, using his training and talent to absorb, catalog and docket every bit of detail in a place he knew as well as his own home. He even included an inspection of the fridge – one of the most revealing spots for a bachelor – and was disappointed much of the constant stream of food brought in by sympathetic ohana was untouched, some of it spoiling. What he searched for now were clues to behavior that had been seen without being observed. Now, those subtle signs of anomalous conduct were frightening him on a level he could not understand, but knew better than to ignore.

 

Beginning from the time Danno emerged – exiting the apartment leaving all the lights on -- to the marina, the covert scrutiny was in place. McGarrett took in every action or comment in his friend’s manner. What he observed and noted now were signs that Williams was putting on a good show of normal conduct, but was slipping to a more unraveled behavior, unable to keep up the show for long.

 

The host guided them to a booth in the back, but Dan asked if they could eat at a table by the window. Besides the improved view, this selection was situated in brighter lighting conditions. As they started the excellent appetizer of ahi sashimi, Steve simultaneously conducted a mental investigation. Slowly, little nuances presented themselves and with each course – exceptional food that neither officer seemed to have much of an interest in – grilled opakapaka garnished with star fruit, Okinawa potato salad, steamed greens -- his own appetite for the delicious meal decreased as his dread amplified.

 

Danno:

 

By the time they were savoring the mouth-watering macadamia-crusted cheesecake topped with lilikoi slices, Steve could hardly keep up the pretense of casual, optimistic conversation. He had thought over the last week Danno had improved since his release from the hospital. While sailing up to the North Shore a few days ago, Williams’ conversations had indicated no problem. Steve had returned ready to talk Bergman into allowing Williams back on duty.

 

Absence allowed him to see there had been no improvement since his departure. In fact, he believed Danno looked thinner, more exhausted, and exhibited behavior strikingly abnormal since he was released from the hospital. Steve now realized it, irritated it had taken him so long to notice.

 

As a test, steering them toward the valet at the end of the front lanai, Steve placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder in a natural and common gesture he had demonstrated hundreds of times with his colleague. Now, as he anticipated, Danno flinched and pulled away. Not a big, noticeable corollary – maybe not one that Danno even realized he was making – but it spoke volumes to McGarrett. He might have wondered if there was something making him seem threatening to Danno, but knew that was not the case. Their relationship was as close as ever, perhaps closer because of the time they had spent together recently in casual, relaxing experiences. Then it wasn’t him personally. Danno was not just pleased to have him around, but seemed anxious to have him hover and be over-protective for a change. That alone should have raised all kinds of alarm bells with him!

 

This conduct wasn’t recent, either, he surmised, as he thought back to the hospital, then the next morning at the Palace, and many days since. Danno had been sensitive – not because of a sunburn – because he did not want to be touched? And needed light, and company, and left most of the expensive and excellent meal – including the cheesecake – untouched  . . . .

 

By the time they arrived at Williams’ condo, McGarrett was mentally kicking himself for being blind to the needs of the person closest to him. Spending hours with him this last week, he had failed to see what was really happening!  How could he not have recognized the symptoms that were glaringly obvious to anyone who knew Danno? His best friend SHOULD have seen his vulnerability to being alone, to shying from the dark and avoiding even a spontaneous touch.

 

Captivity, torture, pain – Steve of all people should have understood this was a continued reaction to the kidnapping. Throw in the complications of the DHQ-experimental drug and they had a cocktail for disaster. Danno was not improving, but was fighting to make it seem like he WAS getting better, right down to asking about work!

 

Unable to avoid one more test just to be certain of his theory, Steve nearly cringed as he set up a final scenario. As Dan walked into his apartment – all lights still on – Steve put a hand on his arm. Like before, Dan slid away and hurried in.

 

The younger officer almost reached the kitchen before he stopped and turned around. “You’re not coming in?” his voice was elevated a pitch with unpleasant surprise.

 

Steeling his sentiments in cold resolve, Steve responded lightly. “No thanks, I’ve got a few loose ends to tie up.”  His throat was so dry he was surprised it did not crack on the regret and fear coursing through his heart. The disappointment on Danno’s face nearly splintered Steve’s determination to see this through. Maybe he should confront – no – Danno was too vulnerable. The fight-or-flight reflex was a shadow in the blue eyes that stared at him with such distress. Forcing himself to mask any hint of the dawning revelations, he glibly promised, “I’ll call you in the morning.”

 

Williams flinched at the grim sentence to abandonment.

 

McGarrett closed the door and left before he gave in to the temptation to challenge his emotionally exposed friend. Able to apply craft and guile to trapping and interrogating suspects, McGarrett found in usual dealings he lacked the patience for any artifice. Anything less than blunt honesty was a waste of time in most cases. With Danno, he had never pulled his punches or tried to be anything but straightforward. It was part of the strength of their friendship. Now, he understood, his approach had to be something more subtle than a bulldozer technique.

 

The evidence could not have been more certain. Steve had no need for further guesswork. Danno was afraid of the dark. Afraid to be alone. What monsters extended from the shadows when the light died? What memories scared him with such cruelty that a simple touch was a threat? What demons haunted him to make solitude a fearsome dread? Whenever Danno closed his eyes, what fears drove him to stay awake?

 

This brief investigation had proven his theories to be true and McGarrett had no direction now. This was not a criminal case, this was a psychological mystery with his closest friend as the victim. Victim – yes – still the victim. How could he leave him alone knowing what had to be the truth? All this time since his kidnapping, he had been suffering every night. Every time someone touched Dan – yes – even at the hospital – Steve recalled.

 

For some time he sat in his car, pondering the direction to be taken. This had to be done right. How well he remembered the rocky emotional moments when Danno had locked himself in the hospital room, afraid to face him. Miscommunication had caused a difficult situation to be even worse. Steve couldn’t make any mistakes now and lose the trust between them. Danno – both of them -- had been through too much torture. This ordeal had cost them heavily in anguish to two souls.

 

Could Steve bridge the gap? Did he possess the deft skills to draw the darkness out of his friend?  He had the experience of his own imprisonment and nightmares to empathetically know EXACTLY what Danno was going through. 

 

Upon his return to duty in Korea after his POW experience, Steve had been debriefed by objective Navy experts who guided him back to duty. In this circumstance . . . A sharp stab of guilt lanced through his heart. Could he navigate beyond his mired conscience to be of real help to Danno?

 

The circumstances required an expert – reliable, trustworthy and already aware of what had happened. Doc Bergman was the obvious choice and on the short drive to the ME’s Aina Haina beach house, McGarrett reviewed his facts in order to present this in a logical and non-emotional manner. Both of them had to deal with facts, but there was also his reluctance for anyone, even the physician, to see how much this was tearing him apart.

 

The two-story, white-washed house off Kalanianaʻole Hwy on beautiful Paiko Lagoon was a fabulous get-away where the Bergmans liked to stay during the work week. Their big home up by Makaha was a little remote for commuting when both worked in Honolulu.

 

A purple glow of twilight’s dying rays still tinged the cloudy horizon when he stopped at the end of the gravel driveway. Out on the boat dock at the edge of the bay, he noted two figures in lounge chairs. They waved to him and he walked to the back of the property, feeling a little guilty about disturbing their tranquility.

 

Niles Bergman MD, ME, and Dora Bergman RN, were childless and had devoted themselves to their careers, to various charities (some of which they shared with McGarrett), golf and fishing. As adopted members of the extended Five-0 ohana, the older couple could be counted on to be tangled in social events, birthdays, and luaus of the cop unit. Mostly, however, their interest and involvement was seen in their professional capacity as Coroner, or medical specialists. All too frequently, that meant patching up the detectives.

 

“Steve, you’re the only person I know who has worse hours than the medical profession,” Niles cracked as the head of Five-0 approached the dock.

 

“And your timing is awful,” Dora joined in. “You just missed the sunset.”

 

“This is such a nice place for it, too,” he responded politely.

 

Dora rose from her chaise and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Make yourself comfortable, Steve.”  She offered him her place.

 

“I hate to disturb you two, but I’m here on business.”

 

“So we guessed,” she smiled and squeezed his arm. “Doesn’t mean you can’t sit and enjoy the beautiful evening. I remember how hard it was to pull you away after you stayed here.”

 

While suspended from Five-0 during the Vashon frame, McGarrett had enjoyed this slice of paradise the best he could under the circumstances. It had been almost like a vacation – though he could not let go of the case to exonerate himself. However, there had been many hours when he could not do anything or go anywhere and this had served as a scenic and restful holiday spot even if it was enforced.

 

“As I recall you mentioned you wouldn’t mind living in this neighborhood some time. I think it would be perfect for you, Steve.”

 

“Too far from the heart of the action, Dora,” Niles shook his head. “Steve can’t be more than a few minutes from the Palace. I think it’s in his contract. Or too far from the hospital,” he whipped out with smooth sarcasm.

 

“Ignore him,” she winked at the officer. “I’ll go fix us some drinks. Just let me know when you’re ready for them.”

 

“Thanks, Dora.”

 

Instead of taking the chair next to the Coroner, McGarrett paced for a few moments, still organizing his thoughts. Staring at the multi-hued clouds and sky, the tender ripples of the ocean on the sandy shore, he was caught up in the anxiety for Danno, the things he should or should not say to the physician/friend.

 

“Shall I take a guess why you’re all the way out here at this hour?” the ME gently prompted. “You have a question that can’t wait. It’s serious, but not life threatening. If it was urgent I would have had a dozen phone calls and a police escort. You didn’t object to Dora leaving, so it’s confidential.”  His sigh was heavy. “So what’s going on with Danny?”

 

The opening made it easier for him. Turning to face the doctor, he gave a slight nod. “Yeah, it’s about Danno. I’ve got some – concerns. You’ve been observing Danno.”

 

“Making detailed notes about the DHQ reactions. Is there something I need to know?”

 

“Let’s just say I’d like to compare notes.”

 

"All right. What is going on?”

 

"You first.”

 

Without going into too much detail, Bergman generally outlined the observations of Williams’ abnormal reactions. He brushed over the lack of sleep and appetite, but did not seem alarmed. Disappointed that the doctor was not more concerned with Danno’s lack of progress, the cop was tempted to stop right there. But he had to finish this. He had come here for advice. Perhaps that had been a mistake, but he had to push on now. He couldn’t leave here without answers to help Danno.

 

Carefully, McGarrett confirmed that those behaviors were still in place. There seemed little sign of improvement. He suspected it was all aftereffects of the drugs.

 

“As you’ve surmised, this could be residual from the DHQ,” Bergman sighed thoughtfully. “We can’t dismiss that his slow recovery is due to the torture, also. Or included with the DHQ. Has something else occurred that I need to know about?”

 

McGarrett shook his head. Nothing new. This had been going on since the release last week.

 

“I won’t waste my breath getting after you for not bringing Danny in the minute you figured this out. That you’re on my beach tonight means you know there’s a problem but you don’t want him back in the hospital.”

 

Appreciating that Bergman’s skills included forensic investigation, he reminded himself the doc was a detective in his own right. He was an expert in medical matters and was rarely wrong. Fortunately, for the Five-0 people on a professional and personal level.

 

“That’s right. I think the hospital is the last place Danno needs to be.”

 

“Spoken as the concerned friend that you are, Steve, but not in his best interest – “

 

“After being attacked in the hospital and held in a medical facility for animals, ravaged by drugs, do you think it would be healthy for him to go back to a hospital? Doc, I came here for advice. If you corner Danno about this, it will make it worse!”

 

“Fine. You want the best for Danny. Give yourself a minute to think about this – “

 

“I have, Doc, that’s why I’m here!”

 

“Then use your professional skills, Steve. Step back and try to be objective – I know it’s tough,” he forestalled the coming objection with raised hands. “You must have seen behavior like this before.”  When McGarrett did not respond to the prompt, the physician, in a manner typical of a lecturer, continued. “Korea. Soldiers you saw there must have responded like this. The staff at Tripler are getting a lot of these cases from the boys coming in from Vietnam. Post traumatic stress, Steve.”

McGarrett flinched at the label, shaking his head.

 

“Danny’s behavior COULD be a result of the DHQ not being completely out of his system. We don’t know enough about that poor tiger at the zoo to know for sure. Which, by the way, I am waiting for some tox results on his proper autopsy that I performed myself. I don’t think we need to wait with Danny, though, Steve. His behavior is probably not related to the drug after all this time. Tomorrow bring him over to the hospital and have him see Doctor Tratoro. I’ll clear it with him as soon as I get in.”

 

The thought of more medical procedures chilled him. Remembering the horrific veterinary cells where Danno was imprisoned, the filmed moments of injection after injection . . . . No, he could not place his friend back in an environment where it would remind him of his torture in an all too visceral setting.

 

 “Who’s that? A specialist? Danno doesn’t need another doctor!”

 

“I think he needs this kind, Steve. A psychiatrist.”

 

“No!”

 

“Steve, you want what’s best for Danny – “

 

“Yeah. That doesn’t include selling him out to a shrink!”

 

“The medical profession is not the enemy, Steve,” Bergman sharply countered. “The drug withdrawal might take more time. He’s actually doing very well. There have been no physical symptoms of heart problems. I think Danny has other issues that are not fading away. His symptoms are psychological so why not provide a specialist – “

 

“Danno would never go for it for one!”  Steve shot back. “He needs to feel LESS threatened!”

 

Bergman raised his hands. “I’m not pushing you, Steve, or Danny, but I strongly advise this course of action.”

 

McGarrett’s lips pressed tightly together, he stared into the dark bay, listened to the rippling tide. He tried to fight the sinking logic that assailed his stubborn insistence that Danno was not suffering mental problems. Worse than the Doc’s reason, though, were his own memories of captivity in Korea. Psychological debriefings had been mandatory. He had come out of it okay. Others he knew were not so lucky.

 

That did not place Danno in the same category. Danno was spooked, sure, he had a rough time. He did not need a shrink to sort it out. Such a visit would go on his permanent record. Probably worse than that stigma, though, was the admission that went along with checking in with a head doctor. If it was bad enough to call in a psychiatrist, then it was a serious problem. He couldn’t take that step and push his friend into that category. Mostly, he could not ask Dan to relive the terrors of his kidnapping with yet another doctor.

 

Driving back toward Waikiki, McGarrett zoomed through the evening streets with more speed than was prudent. The closer he came to the apartment on the tip of Diamond Head, the more urgent was his anxiety to return and check on his friend. He hated to abandon Danno even for that brief time. And he was not sure it had done any good. Worse, Bergman was on the alert now, and recommending a psychiatrist! 

 

There was one valuable piece of information that had put a label on what Steve had been trying to capture as an explanation. Danno was suffering from the after-trauma of his kidnapping and torture. Steve had tasted some of that in Korea – had seen even worse examples than himself – and saw it now in Vietnam vets. So Steve would forget about the drug complications. This was about war. A war had been declared on Danno. The enemy was vanquished, but the pain remained. What could banish the stubborn remains? Steve knew time was the greatest ally he had at his side after his own POW days. Friends. A goal for the future. He would make sure Danno had all of those elements.

 

The knock on the door was a little loud, a little abrupt, demonstrating his impatience. Without waiting for a response, Steve turned the knob and walked inside. As expected, all the lights were on. In contrast, Danno was sitting on the lanai, in the dark. Staring out at the dark ring of ocean as if he was a statue. Taking a deep breath, McGarrett plunged ahead into his new campaign against an invisible, but formidable foe.

                       

Leaning against the doorway to the outside, Steve gave himself another steadying breath and wrapped a knuckle on the wood. Dan flinched in surprise, but when he turned around he was already wearing a smile.

 

"Hey, Danno,” he greeted. Smiling, he felt relieved and pleased he had made the right call in coming back here. “Come on in. Since you didn’t eat anything when we went out, I know you’ve got to be hungry, so I'm going to fix dinner. And you're going to help.”

 

“What?” the younger man shot back, but he was already getting to his feet. "No one will want to eat it if I cook!”

 

“Sad, but true,” McGarrett agreed lightly. He decided in that instant that he needed to approach this with firmness, with a light touch, with optimism. "That's why you're the assist, I'm the chef.”

 

Ordering his friend as if there was no option – and there wasn't – the copious amount of food in the fridge was assembled. Allowing Danno to make decisions about what they would put together, Steve made suggestions of what dishes he could cook up. Activity, involvement under guidance, and camaraderie. It might not be magic, but by the end of the preparation, they had a three-course meal of unusual, but acceptable ingredients. Steve kept him focused on setting out the plates and utensils. Mixing some iced tropical juices, and keeping a slow and steady pace.

 

The participation in the meal seemed to spur Danno into at least a minimal appetite, and he ate quietly, but without enthusiasm. When he slowed down, McGarrett pressured him, saying he didn't want to think Danno didn't like his cooking. That got some extra bites in and even a few wry comments about Steve's bossy attitude. Then some bad puns about being bossed around by the boss. Genuinely happy, humor was a wonderful sign that Danno's mood was already better.

 

Steve cleaned up and offered to bring their drinks outside. He wondered if it was time for the dinner cruise ships to be sailing past Diamond Head. Dan said he would go check. When the younger detective disappeared outside, Steve leaned on the counter and gave a deep sigh of relief. The emotional work had been highly strained at first, but very quickly, after getting involved in the prep for dinner, they had slid into a routine. A relaxed partnership like any other day, at any other task. Paperwork, investigations, traveling, meals – it was slipping back to a familiar and easy pattern.

 

No magic. No miracle. Friends. A goal for the future. Time. Friends. A goal for the future. Well, maybe those combined WERE a miracle.

 

*****

 

It seemed he spent a lot of time sitting on his lanai these days. Not yet a week out of the hospital and he was going crazy with the inactivity. Of course, to return to work would mean another check-up by Bergman and he didn’t know how he was going to fake his way through that. Steve already seemed to notice his lack of interest in food, his fatigue, his too-gradual climb back to health. Despite his efforts to act normally, he was afraid McGarrett might not be buying it all. What else could he do? Dan felt a shift that he could not explain even if he wanted to, which he would not. Steve didn’t need to undergo more remorse about things.

 

Deciding he needed to get out of the apartment, he grabbed a towel to head down to the beach. The TV was on, he had been catching the afternoon surf status, and as he reached over to shut off the news a report came on – with a picture of him in the background of a photo on the steps of the courthouse!

 

Attorney Shem, a true slime who had been leveled by Five-0 on a few occasions, Dan was proud to say, appeared on screen with his new client, Dr. Derek Jacobs. Shem gathered the reporters around him like a circus ringmaster and announced that he had solid evidence that would vindicate his client from the charges against him. He felt Five-0 was persecuting his client in the stead of going after the real criminal, Blane Adams.

 

At the mention of the dreaded name, Dan broke out into a sweat and backed away from the TV. Hardly breathing after that, the rest of the report was a blur. The fear – irrational and ridiculous as it was – became a palpable force.

 

*****

 

As the early afternoon news program broke to a commercial, Jenny turned off the TV. She was sorry she had called everyone to hear the bad news. Steve was breathing like a pit bull ready to attack a fleeing rabbit. He stormed back into his office, ordering her to get Manicote on the phone as the door slammed.

 

The DA’s office number was connected with one punch of a button. “Sally,” Jenny started as soon as the secretary picked up, “This is Jenny. McGarrett needs to talk to your boss right away.”

 

“He’s been expecting it,” Sally responded.

 

Jenny clicked the button to send the call to line one. McGarrett picked it up and started his chastisement of the DA before she could hang up.

 

“Why didn’t we get any warning on this John?” Was McGarrett’s first salvo. “Shem hit us blindsided again!!  With a press conference!”

 

“Steve, we had no idea. You know I would have said something – “

 

“I know, John. This isn’t helping.”

 

He didn’t need to spell it out, Manicote already knew that McGarrett was doing everything possible to shield Williams. He knew there were bound to be leaks, moments when Danno picked up a newspaper, would catch a news program -- or worse – be accosted by press people. The enemies – and that’s exactly how he viewed them – had mounted a major offensive. He could no longer protect Danno completely – the recovering officer had to be brought into the loop before a surprise attack on the vulnerable Williams made the situation worse. He had to tell Danno what they were up against and get his help. Too soon, his heart told him, but there was no longer a choice. Their opponents wanted to take this public to try for sympathy in the media and it would not work – could not work. That meant they had to fight back with every possible resource and an innocent Williams would only get hurt if there was not full disclosure.

 

*****

 

Taking a long, hot shower, cleaning up, Williams felt he should travel to the Palace and get centered. Sitting around here only got on his nerves, especially when the shadow of his tormentor would not leave his mind.

 

Emerging from the elevator, he was shocked to have camera flashes exploding in his face. A microphone was shoved at him – actually batting him in the jaw as a crowd of press people surged to surround him. The video spotlight hitting his eyes took his breath away. Too late to catch the elevator again before the doors closed, he edged along the wall of the lobby, but was trapped when he came up against the mailboxes.

 

Summoning every lesson he had ever learned from McGarrett about a media presence, he was able to focus on only one reporter, Tom somebody from the evening news on Channel Six, and tune out the other faces and shouts. While the name Jacobs and Shem caught his ears, he shivered when Adams’ was mentioned.

 

Staring at Tom, he responded to a question about the trial. “You know I can’t give you anything but no-comments.”  He managed what he hoped was a long-suffering smile and angled away from the light.

 

“How are you feeling about Jacobs’ claim to innocence?” a lady wedged by his side shouted.

 

Reporters were slinging questions from the right and left -- it was hard to take in the meaning of any one of them. What had that pudgy little nuisance from that tabloid rag asked? How long had Derek Jacobs held him prisoner? Derek Jacobs... Derek Jacobs had held him prisoner? Blane Adams was the fiend who'd grabbed him... beat and tortured him... the image of Adams' face pressing in close to his own sent an involuntary shudder through his body.

 

"You gotta give us something here, Williams –"

 

“Hey, you know the rules,” he shrugged and slid along the mailbox rows, his Aloha shirt snagging on the hinges, but he persevered until he managed to slip past a cameraman. “I can't comment on active cases if I want to keep my job, guys, come on, give me a break.”

 

At the makai doorway of the open lobby, Dan slipped out and walked quickly – using his willpower to NOT flee and run as fast he could from the threat. He came out at the beach in back of the condos. Jogging down the shore, he didn’t stop until he reached the private King Kamehameha Club.

 

Exhausted, he flopped down at one of the umbrella-shaded tables in the sand at the beachside bar. Moki, the bartender, waved a greeting and without asking, brought Dan his favorite brand of cold beer.

 

“You look done in, bruddah. You okay?”

 

“Okay, Moki. Can you bring a phone over for me?”

 

“Sure, bro. Anything else you want just give a wave. Slow day here.”

 

Nodding, Dan took a few sips and settled down, scooting his chair over slightly so he could easily stretch to the side and bask his face in the direct sunlight when he felt like it. Closing his eyes, focusing in on the waves nearly lapping at his feet, the surrounding background noises of laughter, chatting, players on the sand volleyball beach, he started to calm. Everything here was bright, happy and warm, so unlike the vivid memories, the haunting ghosts in his mind. Snapping his eyes open at a close sound, he saw Moki had brought the phone.

 

*****

 

Reluctantly, Jenny called the boss out again at the afternoon preview for the evening's news program. This time it was far worse, and she gasped a little in sympathy as Danny was trapped on camera. Against the crush of the reporters, Williams looked washed out and completely off-guard. Feeling McGarrett’s tall presence behind her, she heard his breathing rate increase and indistinct groans escape him as he also watched their detective battle the forces of the media.

 

“You know where I’ll be,” McGarrett snapped and jogged out of the office, slamming the front door.

 

The reporters, deprived of a victim after Danny managed to slip out of the lobby, gave an on-camera summation of what Danny did not say. Sick of hearing their opinions, angry at them harassing her colleague, Jenny shut off the TV and sat at her desk. For several minutes she shuffled papers and restacked reports, but could not focus on her work. It was all just too disturbing. Danny looked so exhausted, worn out, and pale on the screen. She hadn’t seen him since his rescue. She assumed he was getting better.

 

Steve’s succinct reports, as usual, came in every morning; Danno is doing better. Danno thanks you for the casserole. Danno is talking about coming back, but he needs more rest. The usual male curtness when discussing anything of a personal nature. They failed to include that Williams did not look very well at all.

 

Jenny felt a stab of guilt that she had not taken a more pro-active responsibility in shepherding the young detective. In usual circumstances, when one of the Five-0 officers were injured, the ohana gathered in protective and supportive roles for an almost group effort of recovery. Not this time. Everyone, even the detectives, had been reluctant to intrude, or even visit Danny. The wives and Jenny had sent food and good wishes and cards.

 

Dora Bergman had been the only female of the extended unit to see Danny, and her report had been sobering. Because of the circumstances of kidnapping, torture and grueling recuperation, she felt Danny was having a hard time coming out of this trauma. Normally, the ohana would be under foot with assistance, but all of them, even the detectives, were repelled at getting too close this time. No one knew how to react to this dreadful horror.

 

This time, Steve had shouldered the support of Williams almost exclusively. While it was natural and expected, now it seemed maybe the ohana had let down both men by not being more involved. She sighed, not sure that analysis was correct, either. In this type of intimate mending, this was probably what both Danny and Steve preferred.

 

When the phone rang, she jumped and steeled herself to deal with the press, or Manicote – the most likely to call after the brief news report.

 

“Hawaii Five-0.”

 

“Hi, Jenny.”

 

“Danny!” The voice was unexpected and she gulped in surprise. “Danny!  Are you all right? Those reporters were terrible!”

 

“You saw?”

 

“It’s all over the news. Are you all right? You sound – tired.”  He sounded worse – exhausted, confused, but she had more tact than to make a comment like that.

 

“Yeah, okay, Jenny. Did Steve see it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How – uh – what did he say?”

 

Already regretting summoning McGarrett in for the media snatches,, she was doubly distressed at her actions. Danny sounded upset that Steve knew. Of course he would. A great part of Williams’ energy was expended in various methods and requirements for protecting and watching out for McGarrett. Just as Steve’s were spent in the same causes for his second-in-command. Neither of them was happy about today’s events, for the same reasons, directed at the other friend. So typical; touching, expected, and poignantly unfortunate.

 

“I’m sorry, Danny, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have called him out to see the TV.”

 

“No, it’s okay, Jenny, no way to avoid it,” he ruefully sighed. “What did Steve think? Can I talk to him?”

 

“He didn’t say anything, just rocketed out of here. He’s headed for your place.”

 

“Good, okay.”  He sounded relieved. “I’m not at my place. Will you let him know I’m hidi – uh – hanging out -- down at the Kam Club, please?”

 

“Sure. Stay there, they’ll keep the reporters away. And take care, Danny. This will be over soon.”

 

“Mahalo, Jenny. Talk to you later.”

 

*****

 

Staring out at the consoling, blue, undulating ocean, Dan absorbed the warmth of the balmy, tropical day. He breathed in the salty, fresh air and allowed the mellow Trades to brush against his skin, attempting to melt in with the serenity offered at the shore. He couldn’t do it. Too many disturbing thoughts bombarded him and left him too keyed up to de-stress as he usually did here at the water’s edge.

 

The reporter’s questions, the press conference, were disturbing. Jacobs and his lawyer maneuvering about details and demands. Jacobs was a nasty creep, had chased him down the mountain … The painful and frightful escape down the pali was overshadowed, though, automatically, by a shiver of fear at the haunting and frightening image of Blane Adams. He could not escape Blane!  Closing his eyes tight, he tried to force some other image there, but Blane was always stuck behind his eyelids ready to pounce out from the darkness!

 

With a shake of his head, he tried to refocus on what he could recall about Jacobs -- the veterinarian from the Honolulu zoo. Yes... yes... he'd been the one who was on the hillside... but had he been in... that place? Williams twisted his face in concentration. No... Dan decided after several seconds, he could not honestly recall seeing the man. It was Adams who still filled his nightmares... Steve said Adams was dead... What had happened to him? How did Steve know Adams was dead? 

 

Opening his eyes, he took a sip of beer, noting his hand was shaking, and placed the bottle on the table to better ignore his reactions to the memories that would not fade. Glancing up, he saw McGarrett pacing through the sand at a fast clip toward him. Warmed and cheered at just the sight of his arriving friend, Williams felt a measure of calm blanket him. There were still ripples of misery and doubts within, but Steve was here to help.

 

Instead of sitting down immediately, McGarrett dragged a chair over and placed it next to Williams. Then, patting Dan’s shoulders, and feeling his friend twitch at the touch, he sat down to make close eye contact with his friend.

 

“I saw the news piece, Danno.”  Williams seemed all right, but his face looked as pale and tense as on the TV. Pushing the anger at the media, and the hurt for his friend McGarrett moved to a level where he projected only solid support. “Are you all right?”

 

As much as he wanted to say his usual quote, that all was well, he could not. Staring into Steve’s eyes, this close to the firmly resolute face that brooked no deception or prevarication, he knew he could respond with veracity. There was no strength left for the pretext of getting better. He wanted so badly for everything to be right again – for Steve as much as himself -- but he couldn’t sustain the pretense any longer.

 

This was not a surrender. It was a plea for help. Williams had fought to keep his weakness from the friend who would hurt the worst for him. But he required his strongest ally to support him now. It was time to call on the tremendous fortitude of McGarrett to get him through this. There was no one else he could ask, no one he would rather lean on in his time of need. No one else who could, or would, protect him from the inexplicable darkness.

 

“Steve, I’m confused,” he confessed quietly. “I don’t know why this case has turned into such a media circus. All I want is to come back to work. Let me do that, Steve, please. I feel like I’m lost without being back at the Palace.”  He dredged up a hint of a grin. “Promise I’ll even shave and wear appropriate clothes and not look like a beach bum.”

 

Impulse would urge him to respond with an instant negative. Taking in his friend’s worn appearance, the thinness, the lack of energy, the evidence of little sleep – none of it encouraging enough to allow the officer back to work. Then there was the check-up that would be required, through Bergman, to get the go ahead.

 

Discounting the reason, McGarrett zeroed in on the message from his friend. Danno was asking for help. Action, work, distraction, responsibility all bundled into drive to be on the job again. The Five-0 work ethic was intense and demanded all minds and bodies to be dedicated to the cause -- from every member. It was an instilled purpose -- the need to be back within the fold, back into the productive game. Maybe acting like he was ready for all that would help Danno achieve the high goal of wellness.

 

Bergman would balk. Steve had his own reservations. Danno did not seem ready; mentally, physically. There were still problems that disturbed him about his friend's reactions. According to the McGarrett credo, however, work would smooth out those wrinkles.

 

There was also the unpleasant task of prepping for the upcoming preliminary trial. Manicote would fight it, but there was the chance the judge would want Williams there. Was Danno up to that now? Not even close!  So getting back into the groove, working and having a normal routine, would help stabilize him.

 

Steadily staring into the earnest blue eyes, he knew whatever he said and did would hold tremendous sway with Danno. It always did. That personal dedication was a little scary sometimes. However, in this instance it might help angle the recovering officer onto the correct path.

 

“I’d like you back, too, Danno,” he responded reasonably, neutrally. “Do you think you’re ready for it?”

 

“Sure,” Williams snapped back quickly.

 

“Well, I admire the way you handled the sharks of the media,” he admitted proudly. After his anger and disgust settled, he had time to reflect that his friend had displayed excellent skill at rebuffing the reporters, despite the residuals of his recent trials. Danno had even looked presentable enough for his usual Five-0 standards. “You did a great job in a tough spot.” A full smile beamed on Williams’ face and McGarrett felt he was seeing his old friend completely back in that moment. The surge of familiar camaraderie lent the boss a smile. “Well, this rocketing between here and the Palace IS getting old. Maybe you are ready to come back. Ben is handling a few of your cases. He can brief you on those,” he started cautiously. “Chin and I are working on an extortion investigation, I might need you to come in on that if you’re up to it.”

 

“Yeah, Steve, just let me come in tomorrow. I need to get out of my apartment!”

 

Noting Williams’ energy revived at the possibility of returning, McGarrett was more inclined to allow the request. Cautiously, he had to bring up the real threat to this plan – what he worried over constantly.

 

Leaning an elbow on the arm of Dan’s chair, he closed the distance between them to emphasize his point. “Danno, even on desk duty, at first, you’re going to run into questions about Jacobs. He’s really become a media event in his own way and there’s no chance you’re going to be able to avoid him. Coming back to the Palace will be like open season on you, aikane.”

 

“That’s fine,” Dan returned adamantly. “No problem, I can handle it, Steve.”

 

Remembering his detective’s initial negative reactions during the press ambush, he wasn’t convinced. He posed a few questions and scenarios that might be tossed at Williams. As he discussed it, he felt Dan’s cavalier brush-off about Jacobs was odd, almost shallow. He gave the opinion that the threat of Jacobs was being taken too lightly.

 

The confidence that had built slowly during their conversation faltered. “Steve, I have to admit I’m confused about all the fuss over Jacobs. What is the big deal?” he demanded, now disturbed.

 

Taken aback, McGarrett leaned against the backrest of the chair. “What is the big deal?” he gasped. “After what Jacobs did to you how could you ask that? That madman would be enough to haunt anyone!”

 

“Jacobs?” Williams visibly shivered and looked away, staring out at the ocean. His voice thinned. “Jacobs doesn’t haunt me.”

 

The comment had too many layers for him to respond immediately. Now extremely troubled by the possibilities, McGarrett took a moment to analyze the revelations. If Jacobs was not at the forefront of Danno’s disturbance, then who/what was? Seeing the vet as the personification of evil – organizing, implementing and executing horrendous torture upon his friend – McGarrett couldn’t think of anything/anyone worse to haunt Williams.

 

Uncharacteristically, Steve had tried to ignore the nucleus of the truth. Intellectually he vaguely accepted Bergman’s definition of post-traumatic stress without delving into the deepest implications. Still tending to look beyond the quirks of Danno's fear and shying from a touch. He told himself much of it was the drug aftereffects. The poor appetite and sleeplessness were expected after the rough torture, the body mending and adjusting to the ordeal. How could Steve directly face the darker shadows of the psyche? The nightmares that haunted the mind after captivity. It was a disservice to his friend to not confront that most insidious evil conjured within the memories and fears.

 

“Who haunts you, Danno?” he barely whispered.

 

Quivering, Dan shook his head, lips pressed firmly together, refusing to respond.

 

The silence unnerved him. They had not talked about the details of the captivity. How could they? Steve hurt just thinking about it, the horrifying film, a loathsome nightmare, still replayed in his mind all too frequently. He would never bring it up for discussion, especially when Danno didn’t volunteer anything.

 

Whatever his friend felt or remembered was closed to everyone. If he had mentioned anything to Bergman, neither the Doc nor the officer let it spill. Now, though, the senior detective was alarmed at what Dan was not saying.

 

“Danno? Tell me what’s going on.”

 

“I’m fine, Steve!”  he snapped sharply.

 

"You are not fine!” he almost yelled back.

 

Strained silence. Williams wouldn’t meet his eyes and looked away at the ocean. “Let me come back to work!”

 

“And what happens when you get cornered by more reporters? Or are called to the prelim to face Jacobs – “

 

Turning back, the blue eyes were sizzling. “Who cares about Jacobs? He chased me down the pali and you got him, Steve. He’s in jail!  You saved me from him!”

 

“Danno, you do remember it was Jacobs who was behind your kidnapping, right?”

 

Williams glanced at him momentarily, his eyes narrowed, hiding dark and closed emotions in check. “Maybe he was.”

 

It had been a rhetorical, sarcastic inquiry born out of frustration and rising irritation. Now McGarrett’s throat went dry. “What do you mean ‘maybe’?”

 

“He’s taken care of, Steve, right?”

 

Like a cold front moving into his soul, McGarrett felt a chill roll through his veins. How could Danno downplay the role of his stalker/tormentor? Unless, he quietly drew in a deep breath, Danno was not clear on Jacobs’ role in the agony. DHQ could have muddled his perception of the captivity!  Not that much, surely, he tried to convince himself.

 

“Don’t you remember what he did to you?”

 

Dan’s brow was scrunched in confusion. “I remember him coming after me at the pali. You rescued me.”

 

“Nothing before that?”

 

“No.”  Williams wouldn’t meet his eyes. “With Jacobs? What did he do?”

 

The cold intensified to freeze his heart, it seemed, as McGarrett felt everything inside him go numb. What was missing from Danno’s memory? Where did Jacobs fit – or not – in his piecing together of the past? How could he ever tell his friend the abhorrent details of the imprisonment, the dehumanizing, hideous torture, the nauseating taunts and savage physical and emotional mistreatment? And the film – no – Danno was NEVER going to learn what had happened in that film! 

 

In a way, the idea of Danno forgetting all the anguish was a blessing, wasn’t it? The drug perhaps muffling the worst of the atrocious experience? A shadow descended on him, though, as he recalled his list of symptoms that he related to Bergman:  The pervasive fatigue, drained physical condition, lack of appetite. The sensitivity to touch – exhibited even today! – when he arrived. Now the blocking out of Jacobs from his role in the kidnapping. It added up to trouble.

 

He had to admit something was wrong with Danno. With a bitter taste of regret and pity in his heart, he knew Bergman might be right. Maybe Danno did need to see a shrink to get this all sorted out. How to break it to – how to convince -- his friend?

 

“Jacobs is responsible for your captivity and torture,” he quietly responded, his voice shaking.

 

“He’s not a problem,” Dan countered. “You want me to go to the prelim, fine, I can handle it. Just let me come back to work.”

 

Hoping he was doing the right thing, feeling like Brutus on the steps of the Senate in Rome, McGarrett filled himself with resolve. This WAS the right thing to do. Danno needed more help than he could provide – afraid to say something that would damage his vulnerable friend even more – he recognized the necessity to call in professional advice.

 

“I’d love to have you back, Danno,” he smoothly agreed. “Why don’t I schedule the check- up with Bergman.”

 

“Steve, you could get around Bergman,” he almost pleaded.

 

“No.” The refusal was flatly adamant. McGarrett couldn’t go around the necessity. In this case he knew, for Danno’s sake, there had to be a medical sign off on the patient’s physical and emotional health. Not usually one to shirk responsibility, he used some convenient excuses to counter the appeal. “I can’t, Danno. I need to know what your status is, for one, before you’re back on the time clock. Plus, your condition is an important aspect of the case. This could come up in court. Manicote is going to want the latest on you.”

 

This set back the enthusiasm level, and Williams seemed to ponder the ramifications for several silent moments. “Okay, then I guess I have to. But then I’m back to work?”

 

“As soon as possible. Not soon enough for both of us,” Steve admitted, grimly knowing the longest days of this ordeal could be ahead.

 

*****

 

McGarrett drove onto the Palace grounds a little before his usual time. Yesterday’s visit with Danno had extended until the younger man seemed calm and settled. They had walked back to the condo along the beach and Steve had stayed until evening to balm the agitating discoveries with quiet conversation. The more they conversed, the more convinced Steve became that his friend did not remember Jacobs as any kind of player in the role of torturer. Remaining long enough to make sure Williams ate some of the still-abundant food in the fridge, McGarrett finally, reluctantly, left.

 

After he returned to the office, a strained phone call to Bergman set up an appointment for Danno with the shrink. Then a call, followed by a visit, to Manicote, to work on strategy for dealing with Jacobs. Then it was back to the Palace to catch up on what he could for the night. This morning he intended to come in early and finish tasks that should have been completed yesterday.

 

It was with disappointed annoyance he pulled around the Palace to see Williams’ black LTD coming to a stop in its usual parking slot. Slamming his car into his space, he jumped out in time to confront his second-in-command before Danno could get far from the vehicle.

 

“Danno!  What are you doing here?”

 

The younger detective was dressed in a suit and tie as if ready to resume his duties. A smirk communicated he was taking the expected objections in stride.

 

“I’m going to drop in on Bergman later, Steve, don’t worry. I just wanted to meet you early and catch up on things before the usual morning crush started.”

 

Unhappy with the strategy, the boss gruffed an acceptance of the plan without verbally giving his approval. It made sense to get Williams up to speed on the caseload before the rest of the staff arrived and the business-as-usual momentum started. He did not like the sneaky circumvention of his orders, but decided to not make an issue of the cunning ploy.

 

“All right, Danno, but you better make that appointment with Bergman.”

 

Williams smiled and started to walk toward the Palace, but McGarrett intervened, grabbing onto his arm. Smoothly, but noticeably, the officer moved out of reach.

 

“Danno,” he started somberly, knowing that this needed to be resolved before they took another step. He couldn’t let Danno think things were back to normal when they so noticeably were not. That action of distancing away from his touch just now was a glaring reminder. “Bergman is setting you up with a specialist. He’ll be able to help.”

 

Williams backed up to bump into his car. “What specialist?” The wan face seemed to lose all color.

 

“Dr. Tratoro.”

 

“The shrink? No!”

 

“Danno you have to admit – “

 

“No, Steve, you’re not going to make me go through that,” he shook his head. His voice was strained, but powerfully adamant. “Bergman can’t force me into seeing him. I am not nuts!” Pushing off the car, he stalked up the steps of the old building.

 

McGarrett caught up in a few strides. “I think you need it, Danno. Just go talk to the man--“

 

“No way!”

 

At the top of the stairs, the stained-glass doors opened and one of the security guards gave them a cheery greeting. Barely acknowledging the man, McGarrett followed Williams into the foyer. Another security guard was moving the tall spotlights crowding the display cases. The illumination cast a bright field of white, contrasting the dark wood panels in the usually subdued lobby. One of the stands moved just in front of Williams’ stalking pace and he had to stop suddenly. The lights hit him right in the face and he gasped, falling back and stumbling into another set of lights. The security guard grabbed the stand, McGarrett grabbed onto Williams as he fell against the wall, the lights dazzling in his eyes.

 

“No!  No!” Gasping, breathing hard, he squeezed his eyes shut and gripped onto the sides of his head as he slid to the floor. “No more! Nooooo!”

 

“Get it off!  Shut them off!”  McGarrett ordered.

 

The lights went out and the room took on an intensified darkness. McGarrett patted his friend only to have him crawl away. As quickly as he could he helped Williams up, his friend struggling to break free, but hardly staying on his feet. McGarrett guided him away. Heart pounding against his chest, he trotted up the staircase, alarmed at the terrifying reaction. He bundled Williams into the privacy of his office as afraid as that day he had found Danno on the pali.

 

*****

 

Palms pressed against his eyes, breathing short and shallow, Williams curled into a protective ball, begging the images to release their talons from his mind. There was no escape from the pounding visions, emotions, sensations assaulting him. With stark, crisp clarity he remembered the fear, the smells, the pain of captivity . . . .

 

Hands grabbed him and he heard the echo of a scream as he pulled away, but the hands held him fast – a body pressed against his side.

 

“Danno, it’s me! “A reassuring and welcome voice spoke quietly, firmly, in his ear. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about anything. I’m here. You’re safe. There is no threat.”

 

The touch was agonizing because with his eyes closed, he could hear the steady, trusted voice, but his imagination shrieked a more insidious, dangerous message to feed his dread. Blinking his eyes open, he saw he was curled on the white sofa in Steve’s office. Steve was right next to him, holding him fast.

 

“I remember,” he grated out, his trembling voice matching the shaking of his body. “I didn’t remember before.”  He took several deep breaths. “Just images – like dark ghosts in my head. And the fear… “

 

McGarrett studied him levelly. “Go on.”  His hushed tone hardly audible.

 

“Jacobs.”  How could he have forgotten the taunting, the threats? The intimidation about the film? Didn’t Jacobs tell him the wretched movie was to be sent to McGarrett before Steve was murdered?!!  So much he had wiped away – because it was too horrible to bring back to his tormented mind? The pronouncement that Steve had been murdered; the promises of pain, and the reality of that suffering being fulfilled over and over again. The humiliation and the anticipation/trepidation of what happened every time they opened the cage door. He had to stop the memories! 

 

Before they were blocked and now he could not shut them out!  “The bright lights in my face,” he gasped for air, hoping a sound – his own voice – would connect him to the present – to his current reality -- push out the terrors. “It came back,” he rattled, babbling, not knowing what he was trying to say. “The lights -- there was a – a movie.”  Steve winced and drew in a sharp breath. Dan swallowed the lump in his throat. “You know -- about – that -- there was – what they filmed?”

 

McGarrett just nodded, his eyes moistening.

 

“You saw it?”

 

Steve could not find words to confirm the terrible truth. It never occurred to him that Dan did not recall being filmed!  Steve had planned on never bringing up the fact that he had received the film. Now, he had to break it to Dan that he had seen it and had the film in his possession. Bile clogged his throat as he recollected the repulsive movie. It was hard to even think of the atrocity – how could he explain to his friend he had seen all of Danno’s torture in living color?

 

All Dan could do was shake his head in denial. He was so confused and hurting – between the torture, the drug, the torment, the taunting of what had been done to Steve – it all blurred into a blinding wash of pain. He had forgotten about the camera and lights until now. At the time, he thought they had killed Steve and the filming was Blane’s sick, perverse way of seeking pleasure by watching his deeds after the fact.

 

Jacobs’ ridicule was the truth!  Steve knew about the movie!  Feeling ill and weak, he was grateful for the strong support of Steve holding onto him. It was ludicrous that he did not recall entire sections of his imprisonment!  He did not really remember all of what they did to him!  What else happened, he now wondered, as cold sweat broke out on his chilled skin. What was on the film? How much did his friend and mentor observe? Of all the people in the world that he would not want to see him suffer – what Jacobs and Adams did to him – it was Steve.

 

To add to the disgust, he then wondered if Chin and Ben knew, too. And Heaven forbid – Jenny? No – his friends couldn’t have seen it!  Then the torture would never end for him. To not know what went on was also a continuation of the pain – the questioning, the wondering. He couldn’t believe he had blocked this away!  After all the suffering, unbelievably, there was more!  How could he face any of them again?

 

“Don’t worry, Danno, it’s over. It’s all right now. They can’t hurt you.”

 

The words were a subdued litany laced with gut-wrenching anguish. It killed him to know how much this wounded Steve. Why did Steve have to be the one to see what they did to him? Jacobs had promised just such revenge, hadn’t he? He said he had killed Steve, and in a way, he did. Emotionally, he could imagine what his friend had suffered knowing the torture he had endured. A kind of torture for McGarrett that would have been so effective.

 

Sensitive to the ripples of pain this meant to both of them, Dan knew there was more to come. He did not remember everything. There were huge gaps – blurs of dark, agony and fear-filled times when he had no idea what had happened to him. He could not live with that.

 

“Steve, I have to see it.”

 

The firm grip tightened around his shoulders quickly, then McGarrett pulled away. “No,” he whispered.

 

The request should have been foreseen, but it hadn’t. Steve was going through too much turmoil to have anticipated Danno’s natural desire to know the truth of his captivity. Dan would want to know. Steve could not allow it. He knew what was on the film and would never let Danno see what Jacobs had done to him.

 

“I have to know what happened.”

 

The plaintively quiet words were as sharp as darts to his soul. McGarrett pushed away from the sofa and threw open the lanai doors. The bright morning light pierced the eyes and he wiped away the moisture on his face before he walked out to lean on the railing.

 

“Steve . . . .” Danno sighed behind him in the doorway.

 

“Not a chance,” he completely rejected the idea. “I will not turn the film over to Manicote. No one but Chin and Ben and I have seen it. No one else ever will, Danno.”

 

Flinching when he learned his colleagues had also seen the movie, he slowly revealed, “I can’t remember everything, Steve – “

 

“You remember enough!” he assured with a tremulous voice. “You don’t need to relive it by watching –” he couldn’t continue. He just shook his head, working to banish the memories of what burned in his mind and soul.

 

Williams joined him at the railing. They didn’t look at each other, but McGarrett could see Danno’s fists were tight on the white metal, and his arms were trembling. Biting his lip, the head of Five-0 prayed his friend would drop the insane request. They had been through too much, they should not relive the torment scene by scene.

 

“Steve, you were right.” Dan gave a soft chuckle. “You usually are.”

 

Wishing he could find the humor, or supply a witty comeback, he tiredly asked, “About what?”

 

“I think – I better -- I need to see Dr. Tratoro. I need to -- find -- those -- missing pieces -- of my life-- if possible.”

 

This was going to be murder on Danno, on him. Releasing a deep sigh, Steve closed his eyes with relief. Maybe the shrink would actually help his friend. Better than showing the film to the victim. “It will be tough, Danno, but I think it’s the only way.” He opened his eyes, staring at the blue sky. “What you recall won’t be pleasant, but if you’re brave enough – and you’ve never lacked for courage in your life – then it’s the only way for you to really heal.”

 

“Okay,” he whispered.

 

McGarrett looked over at him and smiled through the tears that moistened his eyes. He could imagine what this was costing for Williams to take this incredible step. It would be rough. At least he would not be alone. He reached over to take Dan’s shoulder, hesitated because of the recent resistance from his friend, then moved closer and grabbed onto Dan’s neck with a supportive embrace.

 

“I’ll be with you all the way, Danno.”

 

Williams did not resist, but relaxed under his grip. “Mahalo. That’s all I need to know.”

 

*****

 

The first psychiatric visit for Williams was possibly more grueling for his friend. McGarrett had no idea it would take the entire morning. Two appointments and an investigation of a crime scene was endured. When he returned to the office was afternoon.

 

Danno should have finished by now. Where was he? Sitting on the beach somewhere decompressing from what we emotional whirlwind? It was a sunny, bright, usually- perfect day in paradise. Was his friend okay? Did the psychiatric talk-out and then the inevitable therapy-number-two – a speed-demon drive in the Mustang to a favored point on Oahu help?

 

Should McGarrett call his friend? Too soon? Too overbearing? Too intrusive?  Pacing to his lanai again, he appreciated the warmth of the day only as it related to his thoughts on his detective. Perhaps Williams just went out to grab some lunch or went for a swim.  Instincts, knowing his second-in-command, Steve believed those scenarios did not quite fit this case.

 

The phone rang. Private line. Danno?

 

“McGarrett,” he snapped, standing, he snatched up the handset.

 

“Hey, Steve.”

 

Fingertips nervously dancing on the desk, he barked out, “Danno!  Are you all?”

 

A noticeable sigh came over the earpiece.  “I – uh – yeah, Steve, don’t worry. I got through it okay.”

 

The tenuous tone belayed the words. His friend had a right to privacy after what had to be a torturous beginning. Layering the mind hidden beneath to protect the psyche from more damage. Steve did not want to know the details. Just needed to know the introspection and intrusion had not caused more pain than the session was worth.  He was not going to repeat what he asked because clearly Williams was not all right. His friend would probably mask the mental and emotional wounds to protect both of them.

 

Stomach rippling in disgust was a reminder of how this horrible tragedy started was one step into anguish. So many levels of mistakes, heroism and anguish. At the bitter finalre Danno had sacrificed himself to save Steve on the North Shore when Adams wanted to murder them. That and all the other black tragedies never far from his mind. With it came the accompanying culpability – ever just under the surface -- that Steve could have some stopped Dan’s kidnapping and torture hands. But he had not.

 

Pulling himself out of his morass of guilt he shifted from the mistakes of the past to rely on his instincts now. 

 

“What can I do for you, aikane?” he quietly questioned.  This was not about him was about his friend. “Anything.”

 

“Hmmm.”  The noise of a long breath released through buzzing lips came through.  “I think I’m gonna go sit on the beach for a while.”

 

“Yeah, yeah that will do you good, Danno.” 

 

He hoped the unenthusiastic agreement did not come through in his tone. He felt it though.  While this was an intensely private and personal experience, Steve needed to share in this cure.  He was to blame for so much of this agony. For his own emotional health he needed to be part of putting Dan back together.

 

“I was thinking, though, if you’re not doing anything tonight maybe we could get together? Dinner?”

 

The request cheered him like mental fireworks in his mind! Taking it easy, patient, he couldn’t hold back the gentle laugh.  “Sure.”

 

True to the generous giving nature of the Hawaiian culture the ohana showered Williams with plentiful food during his recovery. Because of his injuries and the heavy drug in his system the lack of appetite left a bounty of groceries in his fridge. Steve had been present at Dan’s condo daily. With his skills in the kitchen, the boss had managed to keep his younger detective friend fed and diminish much of the tasty goods.

 

“Just – Steve -- maybe somewhere quiet?”

 

Left unsaid was the obvious that while his friend was emotionally drained he wished to keep a distance from almost everyone. McGarrett was his mainstay. Pleased to act as his friend’s protector, companion or even chef, he readily agreed.

 

“Sure,” was his easy reply. “I’ll pick you up around seven, how does that sound?”

 

“Great. Mahalo, Steve.”

 

“Any time, Danno.”

 

Revitalized, McGarrett dashed to the door of his office.  In the main office was Ben Kokua at Jenny’s desk. Joining them were HPD officers Duke Lukela and Nick Kamekona, who had been helping out the state police unit. With Williams out of the action and McGarrett frequently absent, the assist was necessary.

 

Checking on progress of cases and status on several issues, the boss was satisfied all was running smoothly in his kingdom. It would be no problem for him to leave this evening. He could always come back after dinner and finish up on any projects that needed his attention.

 

Returning to his office he quickly sorted through as much paperwork as possible. In the back of his mind he plotted his best course of action for the evening. Get Danno to eat and revitalize some of his depleted condition. Somewhere quiet – read -- no stressful crowds. No chance that any reporters or morbidly curious onlookers who would want to know details about sensational case Williams’ kidnapping would interfere. Private.

 

Chin came in to discuss the security request from the State Department. Duke and Nick later consulted on the jewel robbery they were investigating. Then Ben brought in memos from the DAs office regarding Jacobs’ upcoming trial. 

 

His good mood soured by the necessary evil of dealing with the source of so much grief. McGarrett quickly read through Manicote’s papers.  Fortunately, no new surprises from the wicked defense camp.

 

By the time Steve looked up again it was a surprise to see Jenny had her purse in hand as she stood in the doorway.  “Need anything else, boss?”

 

A quick glance at the clock told him it was 6:07 PM!  Time has flown by! As usual! He should have set an alarm!

 

Behind the secretary, Chin had Ben crowded in, reporting they had finished the paperwork. Did they need to stay?

 

“No, go home all of you.” He rose from the desk and started clearing up as he spoke. “You put in a lot of extra work these past weeks. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. So does Danno. Mahalo. Go spend some time with your families.”

 

“No problem,” Chin replied, and gave a wave as he retreated.

 

“Tell Danny aloha,” Ben said as he gave a shaka sign and left.

 

For the second time that day, Jenny asked if the boss was sure Danny didn’t need anything. More food? Or cookies?

 

Finished locking up his desk, McGarrett shouldered into his jacket and placed an arm around the secretary’s shoulder.

 

“Mahalo, Jenny.  I’ll let you know when his fridge needs to be resupplied.”

 

Nick Kamekona was waiting at the outer door and Jenny gave him a nod. As she went to meet the HPD officer she told her boss, “At least he’s got everything he needs,” she stated in a more positive tone. “I know you’re looking out for him, big brother.”

 

He locked the door behind him and allowed the quiet of the now otherwise empty office to settle.  I can promise you that, Jenny,’ he thought to himself.  ‘Too late to do anything but pick up the pieces, but I’m here now.’

 

Just barely after 7pm McGarrett gave a quick knock to the door, then opened it and stepped into Williams’ condo.  The younger officer was ready; trousers and deck shoes-no-socks. Not as natty as Steve in a long-sleeved black, coral, beige aloha shirt and black trousers. Obviously thinking more casually than his boss, but a step up from shorts, sandals T-shirt which had been normal state of dress for a few weeks.

 

Automatic assessment came naturally to the lead detective and his mood elevated when he noted his friend seemed tired but in a good mood. Not sure what state he would find his friend in after therapy, for now it was all positive.

 

Little was said on the trip to the car. Zooming the big Mercury away from the curb, Dan’s nose twitched. “Something smells good.”

 

“Nice to hear,” Steve’s please reply.

 

When they turned off of Ala Wai Boulevard into McGarrett’s condo parking structure, Dan shot a questioning look at the driver.

 

“You said somewhere quiet. I can promise you that.”

 

After removing a paper bag from the back seat, the two rode up the elevator to McGarrett’s home. It was a spacious condo with panoramic views of mountains on the Waikiki side. A wraparound lanai made it enviable and secluded real estate with a spectacular view from two-wall-windows open to allow fresh, moist-tipped Trades. 

 

The bag was placed in the fridge and Steve encouraged his friend to come help. As he withdrew bowls covered in plastic wrap Dan moved them to the table. Taking the hint from the plates and chopsticks on the counter, the younger officer set the places and retrieved glasses while McGarrett finished mixing a pitcher of iced juice.

 

Chuckling, Dan muttered numerous complementary comments while eyeing serving platters loaded with sashimi and sliced vegetables. A mixed green salad and coconut rice completed the meal.

 

Conversation was easy as the food that had obviously taken a deal of preparation was consumed with appreciation by Dan. Updates on cases were the main topic. A few times he slowed down and seemed to be finished with his portion, but gentle encouragement pushed him to eat a bit more.

 

“Everything is really delicious, Steve. If you ever retire as a cop you can open your own restaurant.”

 

“Ha!  I don’t think I could handle the stress,” he joked.

 

Dessert was a triumph, McGarrett had to admit. When he removed the box from the paper bag Dan’s eyes widened.

 

“I didn’t have time to make a dessert,” Steve admitted. “I had to go by Duke’s and pick up a Hula pie.”

 

As planned, the island boy could not resist a decent slice of the renowned Hawaiian treat. Made at the famous Duke’s grill in Waikiki -- named after the legendary surfer Duke Kahanamoku -- it was ono as the Hawaiian said. Chocolate cookie crust topped by chocolate macadamia nut ice cream, topped with coconut whipped cream and toasted flakes of coconut and shaved chocolate to garnish.

 

Taking a mug of coffee to the table on the Diamond Head lanai, the younger officer settled in to watch the lights come up in the neighborhoods dotting the extinct volcano. While there was no view of the sunset the coppery-tinged red, orange and mauve of the sky reflected the slanting sun. Lights of boats out in the bay and dinner cruise ships drifting to sea became more distinct evening darkened. Streetlights and numerous illuminations along Kalakaua Avenue glowed.

 

“Mahalo for everything, Steve. And I mean everything.  I couldn’t have gotten through this without your support. You’re always there for me.”

 

‘Right,’ was his inner demon’s refute. ‘Where was I when psychos were following you? Attacked you in the hospital – ‘

 

“I hope you don’t mind I don’t really want to talk about my sessions with Dr. Tratoro.”

 

“No!” He nearly shouted! He would not be able to stomach the details of the torture, affliction and suffering on Danno’s side of the horror.  “No, Danno, that’s up to you what you want to tell me.  You never have to say anything.”

 

Between them he could sense his friend was thinking the same thing as he was -- which happened frequently. Both of them knew McGarrett had already seen the details of the imprisonment in living color.

 

“The only important thing is that you are back. And never forget I will always be here for you.”

 

He wanted to promise he could always keep his friend safe but that was impossible. Not in their job. The best he could offer was to learn from the horrible mistakes made in this mess and do better in the future.

 

Tentatively, Dan told him there would be at least a few more sessions with the psychiatrist. After today’s initial meeting, though, while drained and shaky, Dan felt better.

 

“That’s all that matters, aikane.”

 

*****

 

Leaving Doctor Tratoro’s office, Dan could hardly focus through his tears. Weak from the emotional trauma of reliving the horrors of his torture, he was desperate to get away. The Doctor had asked him if he had a ride home – and he did – his Mustang – though he had not informed the Psychiatrist of that little detail. He was not in any mood to talk to anyone, to see anyone, to even have the necessity of interacting with a cab driver. No, he had brought his own car because that was part of his therapy. After each of these grueling sessions, he had the need to jump in the Mustang and feel the freedom of the open road, the bracing wind in his hair and face, the tropical sun baking his skin. It made him remember on a tactile level that he was alive – that the cell, the drugs, the loathsome threats and insidious touching was all past. Intellectually, he knew the speed and natural rush could not erase the memories, but it was as if he subconsciously had to try to drive it out of his system.

 

Racing along the windward coast, he did not stop at any beaches. Pressured to keep moving, to keep running, he drove. The farther from Honolulu, however, the more anxious he became about an obligation that had not been fulfilled. After every psychiatric session, he had been reluctant to talk to anyone for a while, needing the chance to depressurize from the emotional purges. It wasn’t long, however, until he had to reach out for his touchstone of sanity, his safe harbor. His storm shelter. Just a phone call, just a few words exchanged, to let Steve know the harrowing recollections were over and he was all right.

 

Today – what could he say? It had been the worst regression yet, but he had suffered through it all. Every waking memory had been exposed, every torment laid open to his remembrance. How could he talk to Steve now? Doctor Tratoro had drilled into him that it was not his fault, he had done everything he could to fight against the enemy, but it didn’t assuage his sense of reluctance to face Steve.

 

His friend already knew the details of the captivity and torture. He had seen the film. And Dan realized that would forever be between them unless he could come to terms with it. How? Steve had seen it all!!!  It was bad enough knowing what he had gone through, but Steve had suffered through it by watching it. Knowing his friend’s sense of big brother protection, it was a torture almost as bad as his own.

 

Driving through afternoon mists on the pali, Dan diverted to the lookout. The tourist attraction of the windiest location in Oahu was crowded, as usual, with tour buses and rental cars. Most people were leaving when he arrived, he caught snatches of their conversations in the stiff drafts, their mid-western or Oriental natures not inclined to weather the stormy conditions that greeted them at the lip of the pali. More than a few loudly commented on “What kind of nut was driving a convertible in this weather!”  to which he had to smile. Wind pelted with rain whipping through the tunnel-like, fluted cliffs of the Koolaus, the gusts strong enough to rip hats and umbrellas away. A few of the stout-hearted made it up to the highest stone lookout to gaze over the amazing expanse of the picturesque mountains and islands, Kaneohe Bay and the incredible valley below.

 

There was more than nature’s power here, he mused as he stood for a moment in the driving rain, staring at the small offerings always left here at the remnants of the Old Pali Road. Superstition had it that amakua, night walkers and powerful spirits still wandered these paths – the ancient trails dating back long before the highway or freeway. Some people still refused to carry pork or other kapu items over the pali, still bowing to the traditional ways. Although he was not a believer in the ritual Hawaiian beliefs, he respected them, and now drew an inner peace and strength being here in the shadow of the primeval.

 

Stepping around the cement and lava rock lookout designed for the myriad tourists who visited, he climbed down to the broken, crumbling old road and stood for a moment in the blasting, lashing rain and wind. It stung his skin as the drops flew at him, as the wind whipped his shirt so hard a few buttons came undone. Leaning against the dirt and rocks at his back, he closed his eyes and absorbed the physical onslaught. Bracing, chilling, it was invigorating, too.

 

Cleansing.

 

It gave him focus and energy to stand here in the unforgiving, unpredictable, unconquerable elements. It offered perspective on what he had gone through and who he was in comparison to the world around him. It offered strength, power, and renewed his commitment to take the next step in his recovery. Cleanse. Renewal of the soul. Clear away the past. Thinking about it made him shiver. It would be horrible, agonizing and to both he and Steve, devastating. It had to be done, though, however painful. He had to come to terms with his torture, captivity and the wretched nightmares. The only way to do that was to purge it all into the past, live in the now, be whole and centered for the future.

 

Climbing back up to the parking lot, he trotted to the Mustang, grimacing when the wet, squishy seat splashed under him. Knowing what he needed to do now, he gunned the engine to life and, top still down, waved to the astounded tourists as he raced past their buses. Whipping down the freeway, the sun came out – as he knew it would once he was off the mountain. Zipping through the warm and humid streets of the beach town, he stopped at a gas station in Kailua. Jogging to the pay phone, emptying the change from his pocket, he fished for the money and fumbled it into the coin slot. Now committed, he was in a hurry to get this finished. Still shaking, not from the damp clothes or his wet hair, but with a trembling precursor of what he knew would be one of the most excruciating moments of his life. Inflicting pain on a man he loved as a brother. How could he do this – ask this? Because it had to be done.

 

*****

 

Pacing had not managed to calm McGarrett’s nerves, so he settled behind his desk to try and accomplish some paperwork. Phone calls and questions from Chin or Jenny served to pass the time, but every few minutes he glanced at the clock, wondering what was taking so long.

 

In the past, after Danno’s sessions with the psychiatrist, Williams had called at some point. Not right away, usually. The highly emotional and expunging meetings to delve into his psyche had been wrought with anguish for the younger detective. He needed space and solitude to clear his head and stabilize his emotions. The important thing was, Danno had called him, just to let him know he was all right. No visit, no lengthy spilling of inner feelings -- just a quick and simple call to ease the anxiety of the keyed-up boss.

 

It had been hours since the scheduled appointment and still no word. This was the last meeting – maybe it was taking longer . . . . He growled as he glanced at the clock again, irritated that he could not focus on anything but how it was going with Danno.

 

The phone rang and he jolted, checking the buttons. His hand flew to the receiver – the plastic knob indicating his private line was alight. Before the echo died he answered.

 

“McGarrett.”

 

“Hi, Steve”

 

A sigh of relief. “Danno. How are you doing?” The sounds in the background filtered through his mind in the silence. Danno was not at his apartment. Traffic, wind, horns honking. Silence from the officer at the other end. His throat went dry. “Danno? Are you all right? Where are you? Did it go okay?”

 

“Steve… “

 

The chill penetrated all the way to his marrow, it seemed, as McGarrett’s grip tightened on the phone. “Danno, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

 

“I need something, Steve.”

 

Alarmed at the hedging, McGarrett bit his lip, hardly able to stand the wait. His impulse was to bark out demands and order his friend to tell him what was wrong. Instincts pressured him to hold his tongue and wait. Patience, an overrated and obscure trait, was a dreary opponent that strangled progress and speed. Nonetheless, it was necessary when dealing with touchy emotional issues, as what his friend must be struggling with now.

 

“I need to ask you to do something, Steve,” came the strained voice. Even over the noisy connection, he could hear the trembling.

 

Gritting his teeth, he strove for a tone opposite of his tension. “Sure, Danno. What do you need? Anything. All you have to do is ask, you know that my friend. Do you want to meet? I can get to wherever you are – “

 

“No – No – “ A thin, nervous laugh, so unlike Williams shot out, then died. “Steve – just – I need to see the film.”

 

Frozen, his automatic responses coughed out air when he had stopped breathing. Shaking, McGarrett closed his eyes, immediately assaulted with images from the dread movie, he snapped them open again. NO!  Danno did not know what he was asking!  He could not allow it! 

 

“Danno – “

 

“Steve, I hate to do this to you. I know you don’t want me to see it, but I have to get it done. This needs to be – I want you to get the film. Don’t be there, just set it up for me. I’ll come by the Palace tonight. I’m – sorry… ”

 

The phone clicked and while it was still pressed to his ear the annoying dial tone buzzed to signal a broken connection. Placing the receiver down with a trembling hand, Steve wiped the tears out of his blurry eyes. He couldn’t – no – he had told Danno he would do ANYTHING to help him. ANYTHING he asked!  To put this behind him. But Danno didn’t know what he was asking!!!! 

 

Anything. I will do anything for you. Even something that will hurt both of us more than we can imagine. 

 

Perhaps this was his penance. Steve would have to suffer because he had been the cause of this. If his friend demanded this as a final payment to pull his life back together, then Steve would accept it as his repentance.

 

*****

 

The repetitive tap-tap-tap of his pen against the blotter finally penetrated his distracted mind and he stared at the writing implement for a moment before stopping the nervous motion. Slamming his palm flat against the desk he growled a frustrated gurgle deep in his throat, unable to articulate the jumbled, distraught emotions inside except to surrender to the guttural, primal release. As he had many times tonight, he glanced up past the white chairs, outside the aurora of light embracing his desk. His eyes brushed briefly across the far reaches of the room at the dark, hulking object near the center, then he immediately looked down again to stare at the papers he could not bring into focus.

 

The offices were empty. The regular staff had gone home for the day. Ben had night duty and was under the strictest orders not to disturb McGarrett or come back to the Palace under any circumstances. Launching to his feet, the chair flew back and hit the wall behind him. Rounding the desk, he stalked across the floor space, careful to avoid the looming threat that could not be ignored. Like a shadow of a wraith clinging close to his soul, the ominous projector took on a threatening, painful symbolism – a dreaded instrument of evil -- and he winced every time he saw it, felt its menacing presence in his psyche without having to look at it.

 

There was always the option to deny this mad request – continue to deny it as he had for days. For Danno – for himself – this was a horrible idea, but his stubborn friend would not give up the fight. What convinced McGarrett was the final plea this afternoon. After the therapy session that had cracked through all the walls, left bare every shred of revulsion and terror from reliving his captivity, Williams had insisted that this was the last piece of misery remaining a mystery to him. He had suffered; paid with fear, blood, nightmares, pain and the horror of the torture and imprisonment. To put it all completely behind him, he felt he needed to see what was on the film.

 

Even against his better judgment and certainly -- his wishes for Danno’s sake and his own -- McGarrett gave in to the persistence. His friend was strong in many amazing ways, resilient and tenacious to a fault. Danno could live through this, but not easily. The same would hold for McGarrett. Despite all the suffering anticipated on both sides, he knew it was Williams’ right as a victim to view the severe visual record of his ordeal. The fact that it would kill them by pieces – Williams seeing it for the first time and remembering the painful experience – McGarrett reviewing it again and reliving the horrors secondhand again – would be grueling.

 

McGarrett’s stomach tightened when he heard a car motor outside. Stepping over to the lanai he peeked through the windows, tempted to open the French doors and allow in some fresh sea air. Feeling more protected – the privacy and security heightened by the doors remaining closed, he simply placed his hand on the door knob and tapped it with a nervous finger.

 

There in the side parking lot was the familiar white Mustang, top down, Williams’ curly hair visible from the reflected light of the twin headlamps. Trembling, McGarrett turned to flop his back against the wall and steadied his breathing. This had to be terrifying for Danno. Steve had to envisage – and thus project -- the epitome of calm, reassuring, solid support. The time for objections was over, no more debates, no more demands, no more anger or accusations of stubbornness or foolhardiness. After repeating the litany several times, he moved over and retrieved his keys from his pocket. Crouching down next to the desk, he unlocked the bottom drawer and opened it. Staring at the silver film canister, he could not bring himself to touch it, to move forward with a moment in destiny that would be indescribably, unendurably, aching for two friends who would suffer for themselves, but even more for the other.

 

*****

 

Feeling drained and weak, Dan Williams sat in his Mustang and waited for a moment before shutting off the headlights and the engine. This seemed as dire as arriving for his own execution, and perhaps in a way that was a fitting analogy. The regression therapy had been piercing beyond description. Reliving what he had forgotten from the malicious hands of Adams and Jacobs had been excruciating. It had been hours since he had left the hospital and drifted. He must have driven the circle island routes for the whole day. When he had climbed back into the Mustang, after dark, at the secluded beach past Mokuleia, he couldn’t believe the day was over and he noted with surprise that the gas tank was nearly empty.

 

After the tears and ripping emotions spent during the regression sessions, he had purged the visionary fears and demons. They were replaced with vivid, real images of Blane and Jacobs. That was no improvement because now when he closed his eyes and saw those monsters, he felt, as well, the stark recollection of the details of their torture. Despite that increased level of awareness, he slept all right without nightmares twice this week. He could walk into the Palace, or next to someone snapping a picture and not freak out. Improvement in that direction was welcome. The enhanced memories, though, were not so good. Like all other bad experiences, he would have to count on time to dull the edges of the suffering.

 

After today’s last session, he had to get away. He should have talked to Steve right away and told him he was okay, but he couldn’t manage even a phone call at first. At some point he had enough of a grip on his voice and tears that he stopped and called, obsessed with making contact. After he assured his friend he was all right, he had made his insane demand. There had been no argument then as Steve had fought back before. McGarrett reluctantly agreed.

 

Then Dan drove. He couldn’t stop anywhere or think of anything but escape to a place of security and peace. Elusively, no such paradise existed for him because what he sought was an emotional balm in the physical world. Settling for his traditional succor – the ocean – he drove to his favorite spots, moving on when he could not find the appropriate solitude, or tranquility. Finally, as the sun was setting over the Waianae mountains and the western sea was sheeted with gold, the solution finally filtered through the fatigued pain.

 

There could be no peace until he completed the last ritual. The demons would not be banished forever until he saw the crowning achievement of the captors. He had to witness it for himself, before it was brought out to the drooling public and paraded in the papers, he needed to see what they had done to him – see the film. Avoiding it would not bring him resolution. The hurt to Steve could not be avoided – would not get better – only worse – the longer he delayed.

 

Not surprised that the Mercury was still in the parking lot, he cringed, knowing he would have to face Steve. He parked along the Diamond Head side of the Palace because equipment for the lobby displays was taking up all but McGarrett's space in the front.

 

Walking past the boss' sedan, Williams winced. McGarrett was only making this harder on both of them, didn’t he realize that? This part of his life had to be over – now – no more lingering and suffering. He had to close this door.

 

The implementation of his insisted wish was about to happen. There was no sense of triumph of closure now, just a dreaded commitment that had to be endured, just as he felt about the therapy. He had lived through that; somehow Steve and he would live through this too. Hating everything about this – hating Jacobs – he tiredly walked up the steps of the Palace.

 

*****

 

When the door slammed outside, McGarrett jolted, his lost reverie coming to a close. The time was upon him and trying not to think about it as anything more than a terrible duty, he grabbed the film out of the drawer. Anxious now to get the pain over with, he spooled the acetate strip into the projector. When the outer office door opened and closed he jumped, stopped his task, and moved away from the projector. So tense he stood there with fists clenching until a quiet knock tapped on the door.

 

Throat too dry to speak, he was grateful there was no request for permission to come in. The door opened slowly and Williams entered, shutting the door immediately. Danno looked as worn out and exhausted as he expected, and the waning physical appearance of his friend brought his adamant objections to the forefront again. This was insane, it was stupid, it was wrong…

 

The tirade never reached his tongue. As was typical of his friend, there was a quiet strength emanating from the younger officer, a proud determination in the blue eyes barely caught by the diffused light on the desk. The tension in the face and demeanor spoke of his knowledge of the anguish ahead, and the necessity to see it through even at a heavy emotional toll.

 

“I guess I better get this over with,” was Dan’s hushed go-ahead.

 

McGarrett surrendered a tight nod, still not trusting himself to speak.

 

He moved to the projector at the same moment Williams did, their hands reaching the instrument at the same time. They stared at each other for the briefest moment, Steve certain they each mirrored the dread, the regret, the anticipation of agony.

 

“I can manage,” Williams began with a gentle tone, as if he was trying to spare the boss more hurt. “I’ll see you later.”

 

The idea of Williams taking control of this necessary evil was not an option. “No.”

 

The expression, the voice, filled with more animation. “Steve, I can handle this. You need to go.” The stubborn demand obstinate.

 

The idea of him enduring this alone was ludicrous. The thought that Steve could – would – abandon his friend at this hour of horror was unthinkable. “I’m not leaving.”

 

Williams gasped, not anticipating this turn, obviously. “You can’t stay!”

 

“Of course I’m staying!” he shouted back, insulted that his friend imagined any other scenario. “You’re not going through this alone.”

 

He had been shut out of the therapy session, very forcibly, by both the shrink and Danno. He had not been able to share in his friend’s emotional recovery in this final stage of a dark and difficult journey. Now they were at the last step of the trail of sorrow and no one was robbing him of his part in this. He needed it for his own recovery and absolution for all that had happened because of his blindness and bad judgment.

 

“I can’t let you,” Williams refused. His stance, his tone, his expression, relayed the sympathy in his voice. “This is not your fault, Steve. You were a victim too.” The words and infection firm. He locked onto the blue eyes exuding the suffering both of them were feeling.  “We have to tell people this all the time. Victims should not feel guilty. It’s the perpetrators who make the choice to hurt others. You’re not to blame Steve. Watching this film will not fix anything for you.”

 

 

 

The thought of Steve seeing the film again was a new level of agony in and of itself. Taking in the tension, the fierce, inflexible, territorial stance, Williams knew there was no way he could convince Steve to stand aside. It had been hard to get him this far, but there were some times when he knew – from a stern look, a set in the jaw, a muscle tension, a severe tone – that McGarrett could not be budged and was as immovable as Diamond Head. This was such a moment.

 

Bracing himself all day for the agony of watching the film, Dan was unprepared for this jolting earthquake shaking up his plan. Psyched up to go through this alone, he could not in a million years visualize sitting through a movie of his own torture while his closest friend watched!  Imagining how much this entire, nasty event had hurt Steve had been a constant ache in the back of his mind.

 

How could he go through with this now? Staring at Steve’s resolute and compassionate eyes steeled for combat and pain, he knew he could not go on with his demands. It had to have killed Steve to see this the first time. How would he feel now with the victim at his elbow, remembering everything, watching and reliving every moment of demeaning torment?

 

Determination to suffer through to closure at any cost deflated. There WAS a price far too high to pay and he had stopped just before asking his friend to make that offering. Dan had endured the torture firsthand -- did he have to inflict more onto his friend?

 

Releasing his hold on the projector, he sighed out a long, deep breath. “I think you’re right again, Steve. I lived through it all. I don’t really need to see it from the other side of the lens.”

 

For a frozen moment McGarrett said nothing, did not move. Then he discharged a deep breath. A slow, relieved smile flitted on his lips. Nodding, he also stepped away. “Good, Danno, good. I know you’re right.”  Blinking his eyes, he clapped his hands on Dan’s shoulders, then drew him into an embrace. A few moments ensued before Steve whispered. “Thank you.”

 

Those two words confirmed in Williams’ mind that he’d made the best decision for both of them. Voice wavering, he breathed, “You’re welcome.”

 

“Let’s get out of here,” McGarrett suddenly hoarsely suggested. “I’d like to spend a few hours someplace a little cheerier. And bright.” He rapidly spun away, snatching the film off the spools in a fleeting motion that suggested he was afraid touching them might be hazardous.

 

While McGarrett hastily locked away the canister, Williams blinked back the burning in his eyes. There was no need to imagine what Steve had felt or suffered seeing the movie for the first time. It was reflected in his fight to stop Dan from viewing it. The repulsion was evident in his utter relief now that the threat of seeing the terrible torment was over. More than anything, he recognized it in the rare, but intense sensitivity from his friend – as if they had narrowly escaped a life-and-death moment. Perhaps they had evaded something that dangerous to their mutual emotions.

 

With both hands on his friend's shoulders, McGarrett steered them out of the office and downstairs. In the lobby of the Palace they hastily traversed the looming shapes in half-shadow. When they reached the front doors, subdued conversation and bright lights shown through the stained glass, like dancing shapes from another dimension.

 

Halting Williams with a hold on his arm, McGarrett peered through the etched images to the outside. News trucks and a small cluster of reporters!  Still raw from the emotional purging, this was the worst time to confront the press.

 

"That's bad,” Williams breathed out.

 

Disgust, not panic shaded his tone. Good. Even after the rough day, Danno was steady now. "Let's slip out the back,” he suggested.

 

Leaving from the rear doors, they walked around and quietly slid into the Mustang. Seconds later the muscle car revved to life and they screeched away before the vultures could catch them. Zooming through the near-empty streets in the business district of nighttime Honolulu, Dan steered toward the freeway.

 

“Where do you want to go?"

 

McGarrett shrugged. "Like I said, somewhere with noise and people and lights.”

 

Dan gave a nod. "I know just the place.”

 

The wind in their hair, the fresh air with a hint of salty dampness on his skin was refreshing. McGarrett was glad they had been maneuvered into driving the sports convertible. Taking the freeway afforded them some speed, and all too soon they swung onto the side streets heading into Waikiki.

 

Chuckling, McGarrett shook his head. "Lights and cheery activity. This sure is the place.”

 

"Yeah. And the reporters will never guess where we are!”

 

The Ilikai Grill was a mixture of dining and casual island fare. Good thing, because the two new diners presented an odd combination – Steve in his suit and Danno in jeans and an aloha shirt. There was a live band in a thatched hutch to the side of the bar. Most tables afforded a good view of the harbor and the closest hotels along the beach strip. The lights on the masts bobbed up and down; beyond, the distant dots of dinner cruise sailboats. Beaming down on all, a sliver of a silver moon in the dark sky.

 

With better sleep came a return of an appetite for Williams. McGarrett was a frequent visitor to this nice restaurant (he never chose a cheap one!). As usual, the waiter knew to seat them where the booths in the back were private, but through tinted windows there was a good view of the harbor. They both ordered plates of fresh, broiled mahi mahi with all the trimmings.

 

Conversation was limited to mundane chat. Both of them coming off the horrendous emotional low of their confrontation at the Palace, they needed to be grounded again, to share in uncomplicated and soothing camaraderie. Dan's choice of beer (served in a tall, chilled glass not a bottle) and Steve's rich, Kona coffee, were sipped with casual ease. No rush through dinner. No worries about the press or any emergencies finding them. The evening originally set aside to torment them with viewing the torture film was now used to decompress. McGarrett felt it was kahana -- a turning point – in their crisis.

 

Macadamia nut cheesecake topped with chocolate syrup was the finish of the excellent meal. Over more drinks they talked about Dan's upcoming schedule and work rotation. Steve caught him up on a few of the cases he would be working. Bergman was adamant about light duty. Feeling emotionally bruised and sensitive from all the pain swirling around from this ordeal, Steve readily agreed. Besides, Manicote wanted some of Dan's time to prepare for the first trial date for Jacobs.

 

A snippet of background noise caught his attention. It was from the TV in the bar. The thin, nasal-toned voice of Shem and the name dropping of both detectives, brought an end to their conversation. They both turned to watch the report – a news conference earlier today. Why hadn't anyone . . . . Steve had been incommunicado, thinking he and his friend would be entrenched in the anguish of the film right now. Shem, in all his glory amid the cameras and microphones, was making an announcement.

 

“. . . why I have requested the hearing be convened immediately. In light of this new evidence, my client will be completely exonerated and I want him given the rights of a free man as soon as possible!”

 

"That's a real bombshell for the prosecution.” The pushy Channel Six reporter shoved to the front. “What evidence?"

 

“My client was not involved with this crime. The real perpetrator was a man already killed by Five-0!  We have proof!”

 

The chatter of the reporters faded from his hearing. A rush of sound – his heart beating in his ears – pounded like a jet engine. Steve looked across the table at his friend. Danno was pale and his expression tight.

 

"That explains the press outside the Palace,” Williams finally breathed out.

 

"Yeah. There was a reason for the ambush.”

 

Staring at his hands, Dan quietly repeated the dreaded news. "They figured out how to use the film against us.”

 

Simmering with anger, McGarrett pushed aside his passionate mental condemnations. He had to be productive. The press had the heads up and their enemies were twisting the media against Five-0. He would not be cornered by the likes of Shem and Jacobs.

 

"Let's go,” he told his friend. Throwing some bills on the table, Steve grabbed onto Dan's arm and they left the restaurant through the back door along the waterfront. “Just in case we have company,” he explained.

 

Reaching the Mustang in the underground parking, the area looked clear. He suggested they head toward Koko Head. Frustrated, he complained, “Danno, it would be more convenient if you installed a police radio in here.” Tapping his fingers on the door, he could not control his irritation at the turn of events.

 

"Are you kidding me? Then you could reach me anytime!  My baby here is my refuge.”

 

With a rueful snort he patted Dan's arm. "I know. But at times like these it's not very practical.”

 

"Again, my point,” he reminded. "I think you're jealous.”

 

Appreciating Danno's sense of humor was returning, McGarrett grinned. “Maybe.”

 

“So where are we going? The press probably has the Palace under siege still.”

 

"And my place and yours,” Steve shot back. After a moment, he knew where they would find some isolation. "Head to Aina Haina.”  Cruising through Waikiki, they made twists and turns back to the freeway and zoomed out to a neighborhood next to the beach and beyond Honolulu. After several moments of silence, he studied his friend with critical concern. "How are you doing?"

 

Dan shrugged. "All right. I'll be all right.”

 

Swinging the convertible into a narrow driveway lined with tall palms, they drove up the gravel path to a familiar white house on the spacious property. The lights were still on downstairs, with two cars in front of the door.

 

"Looks like the Bergmans are home. I hope they don't mind an invasion.”

 

"I hope not,” Steve agreed. “Because I'm going to commandeer their place for a council of war.”

 

Meeting with Manicote, of course. They had to put their heads together and defuse this bombshell!  They COULD NOT allow the film to be shown in a public courtroom!

 

Before they exited the car, Steve placed a firm grip onto Dan's shoulder. “We're going to figure this out, Danno. This is a stunt. Shem and Jacobs want to damage Five-0. But I won't let that happen.”

 

Williams gave a firm nod. "I know.”

 

*****

 

While Dan was being fussed over by Dora Bergman, and interrogated by her husband, McGarrett made calls from the kitchen. An anxious Manicote was beside himself with concern about how McGarrett and Williams would learn the bad news. Then Chin and Ben were called, they would also be joining the District Attorney here so they could formulate a plan to combat Jacobs and his lawyer. Over late-night coffee, snacks and a lot of talk, a course of action was set.

 

*****

 

Returning toward the Palace in the early morning hours, the freeway was a slick ribbon they sailed atop, the wind and misty rain blowing in refreshing gusts. They were silent, each contemplating the cleverly devised plot and trying to second-guess what their adversaries would do in counterpoint to their moves.

 

When they reached King Street Dan pulled the Mustang into the entrance of the Palace. HPD had gone ahead and removed the media, citing security for the upcoming historical displays as their reasoning. When Dan stopped in back of the Mercury, he shifted into neutral and killed the engine.

 

“Steve, I need to tell you something you need to know. In case this plan doesn't work and --"

 

"It's going to work.” He was adamant. It could not fail. The alternative – the film being aired in public – with Danno in the courtroom – was unthinkable. In the golden glow of streetlamps, Dan's face showed a return of the strain that had briefly left that night after their anguished meeting in the office – and before the news broadcast. He vowed to make things safe and secure in Danno's world again. "I won't let them win.”

 

Reassured, Dan nodded. “Still, this – I don't want you to be surprised in case this comes out.” About to protest, Dan held up a hand and continued. “If it hadn’t been for you rescuing me, I’d be dead,” Dan's voice trailed off as he struggled to bring forth the vestiges of yet another frightening moment in his recent past. “But how did I get down the hill?”

 

“You ran – that’s how you cut your foot.” The lead detective spoke quietly, and grew a little uncomfortable with the line of questioning.

 

“But…” More silence as Dan turned inward. “I was… on that tra…”

 

“Danno, you don’t have to dredge this up!” If he hadn’t been concerned before, McGarrett was growing alarmed. “We are going to keep them from showing the film. Trust Manicote!  Trust me!”

 

After a moment, Dan faced him. "Then just so you know, Steve I – I need to tell you this.”

 

Inwardly flinching at another traumatic confession, Steve grit his teeth and nodded.

 

“Blane – he was -- “the younger detective took a breath, intent on revealing the story no matter how. “I lured him into the cage. So I could kill him.”

 

McGarrett shook his head. “We don't –”

 

“I killed Blane Adams,” Williams breathed, his heart and expression filled with an unexpected sense of revulsion.

 

His mouth was dry. "None of that was on the film.”

 

"Is that what Shem is going to bring up in the trial? That there was another picture Jacobs hid and it shows me killing Blane?"

 

Stomach tight with illness, McGarrett vividly remembered the excruciating movies and the degradation Williams went through. He had worried about the moments that were not on camera – the dark in-betweens when anything could have happened to his friend. Reliving those terrors caused his fists to tighten.

 

“I don't know. And it doesn't matter!  Danno, it was self-defense!”  McGarrett gave a pained inhale between his teeth. "You cannot be held accountable for killing him!  He was an animal!  He didn't deserve to live!” He took a few deep breaths. "And I promise that film will not be aired. Period.”

 

That Dan, who had suffered so much at the dead man’s hands, could have a moment’s regret for defending himself, was a testament to his character and moral fiber. In passing, Steve knew in his heart that he could’ve done in the fiend and slept quite well that night.

 

"I don't care what proof they think they have, Danno, it will not change the facts of what happened!” His voice trembled with rage and dread.

 

What IF they did have another movie? What cruel acts would be exposed? Aside from the pain it would cause, it might show more scenes of torture. At this precarious plateau of recovery, such a viewing would devastate his friend.

 

Breathing deeply, McGarrett suggested he go upstairs and retrieve their emergency bags filled with clothes and personal items for when they were called away unexpectedly from the office. Then they would return to Bergman’s place and stay out of the city for the night where no reporters could hound them. In the morning, refreshed, they would enter the courtroom with John Manicote, as prepared as possible for battle. The grim fight for Danno's professional life and emotional well-being would begin. Because, although this was not spoken aloud, Steve believed, and thought Dan feared, that a public revelation of the film would destroy Williams' future. No civil servant could withstand that kind of degradation and still get his job done.

 

After a moment of sober silence, Williams gave a slow nod, agreeing to the plan.

 

McGarrett stilled another sigh that nearly escaped in the rollercoaster emotions of stress and relief that they had been captured by for far too long. The worst was almost behind them.

 

*****

 

The tension in the air was almost as tight as the anxiety within McGarrett. Carefully controlled breathing, hands resting on his legs were kept flat, not twisted into clenched balls of suppressed rage. He tried to relax by concentrating on the rain pelting the windows on the outside of the courtroom. Like tears streaking the panes. A gloomy, sudden, tropical storm had moved into Honolulu and it lent to the mood he felt at this trying crisis.

 

With the drizzly weather and no rainbows in sight, his mind frequently returned to the horrible beginnings of this nightmare. The storm ravaged North Shore where disaster struck and Danno and he first confronted the murderous Blane Adams, who was hired by Derek Jacobs. And here they were, about to come to another agonizing chapter in the twisted and miserable story of the villain who would not die. The psycho plotter who had put Danno – and Steve – through so much torture. Could they get through this trial without more ache, or was Jacobs' perverted plan about to take another agonizing turn?

 

All the players were assembled in the courtroom that felt humid and close, hot and muggy. Casting covert glances to his right, he tried not to be obvious, but he had to keep checking on how Danno was taking this. Apparently better than he was!  Calm, still, placid expression, the younger detective showed none of the nerves he should exhibit. All good. To win against Shem and Jacobs they needed to keep the upper hand in control. And never let the enemy see them sweat. It was like a game of dare – and the forces of law and order were not going to blink first.

           

Ben and Chin were on the other side of Danno, and all were seated in back of John Manicote and his assistant DA. Behind the Five-0 officers were Niles and Dora Bergman. The group showing was to offer support for Danno. Glancing the other way, McGarrett could hardly stay in his seat when he watched the smug Jacobs and the superior Shem at the defense table. They looked like they had all the answers and were ready to move in for the kill. Steve breathed out a thin sigh to release some tension. This was going to be a grueling afternoon. Confident they would come out ahead, he knew it would not be easy.

 

The judge arrived and everyone stood. The court was called into session, and Shem was invited to give his delivery to support his motion to dismiss the case against Jacobs.

 

"Your honor, the prosecution is in possession of a film that was taken during Officer Dan Williams' kidnapping. Defense has reviewed this. As I'm sure your honor is aware, it shows the deceased, Blane Adams, to be Williams' captor and torturer.”

 

Steve flinched at the inflection of the phrase. Shem was reveling in this torment. Infinitesimally turning his head, he studied Danno to see how he was handling this. No reaction. That was good, he thought.

 

“We are here to confirm my client had nothing to do with this heinous crime. Hawaii Five-0 has engaged in a vendetta against Derek Jacobs and they will be forced to retract their spurious statements and drop the charges of my innocent client. To prove this I will have their own officer speak on our behalf. I call Dan Williams to the stand to corroborate the truth."

 

McGarrett gasped despite himself. Beside him, Danno did not react. John Manicote immediately stood and argued. The words blurred in a rush of sound that seemed to melt into the roar of anger-spurred blood pressure in his ears and the wind-swept rain driving against the old building.

 

Judge Kamaloa was a short, stout man with a thin mustache that barely registered on his upper lip. Wearing black, horn-rimmed glasses his short, dark hair with specks of gray slicked back against his skull, he turned a severe eye to the council.

 

"You may call the officer to the stand, but I will monitor your line of questioning very carefully, Mister Shem. This is not a trial, this is a hearing. No histrionics. We are treading on a traumatic case.”

 

It seemed that few present were breathing, none moving, the rain popping and echoing in the old room like bullets assaulting them.

 

With more poise and aplomb than Steve could fathom under the circumstances, Dan Williams crossed to the witness stand. Unfastening one of his blue jacket buttons, his movements were natural, as if he was completely unfazed. Settling into the witness box, Dan sat back and gave a level stare at his accusers. Both Shem and Jacobs seemed taken aback by the attitude, and McGarrett breathed out a tentative sigh of measured relief.

 

Concerned, Judge Kamaloa leaned over and told the officer that this would be a difficult proceeding and if he needed to stop at any time they could postpone. Nodding that he understood, Williams agreed. "Very well. We will begin. Would you like me to clear the courtroom of everyone but the principles, Officer Williams?"

 

Ever so slightly, Dan shook his head. "No, that won't be necessary, sir. I think the attendees have a right to see that Derek Jacobs was behind the plot of my kidnapping and captivity.” There was a gasp from the defense table. Jacobs started to stand, but Shem pulled him down and gave urgent, whispered orders. Dan continued. "It is clear he gave Blane Adams the orders. And there's more. What Jacobs doesn’t know was being filmed. Blane Adams kept the camera running -- "

 

This time Jacobs rocketed to his feet and pushed away Shem, who was trying to restrain him. “Stop!  We don't want to show the film!” he insisted. "I will take the plea bargain offered by the prosecution!”

There was chatter and conversation throughout the room. Judge Kamaloa beat the gavel and demanded order. Shem and Jacobs were talking over each other. Manicote was trying to get the judge's attention.

 

Danno cast a look his way and they shared a knowing glance and the slightest shadow of a smile. The ploy had worked. Amid the chaos, McGarrett breathed out a long, heartfelt sigh of profound relief.

 

Settling back in the wooden chair, Dan watched the scene, ever impressed with Steve's resourcefulness and touched by the fact that he was willing to go to such lengths to protect him. Soundlessly, he mouthed the word 'mahalo' to his friend, who winked in return. Steve had been his shelter through this entire storm. Through many storms. His brilliant bluff had worked. Jacobs was too afraid to know what was on the film to allow it to be shown. Suddenly weary from the emotional ordeal, he felt drained, grateful to be dismissed while Jacobs was led out of the courtroom by HPD officers. When he reached the defense table Manicote warmly shook his hand with both of his. Steve and the Five-0 detectives surrounded him, McGarrett's strong arms embracing him with a hand patting his back, holding onto him for several moments. Gruffly whispering in his ear that it was over, Dan felt his eyes burn at the raw emotion in his friend's voice, in his hold. Truly, his shelter in any storm.

 

*****

 

Feeling a euphoria beyond belief, McGarrett kept his arm around his detective until they reached the portico of the ancient judicial building. Rain was cascading down in rivulets from the tile roof and scant protection was offered in the open hallway of the covered walkway. Steve shepherded his friend to the Mercury parked nearby. He would have preferred to walk back to the Palace across the street and breathe in the symbolic fresh air after the tense escape from what Steve considered a cruel emotional torment. If they had been forced to air the film in the courtroom – well – he didn't have to think about that anymore. He had judged correctly. Jacobs was a sniveling coward and with the threat of incriminating evidence on the film, he had folded like the cretin he was.

 

Besides, Danno was exhausted. This nightmare had taken a lot out of the recovering detective, and the younger man leaned on him a little more than Steve expected as they hurried to the car. A flock of reporters streamed after them, but Steve gunned the big sedan and they jerked out of the driveway and down to the signal to await passage to the Palace. Yeah, maybe it was better to drive after all. They could make it to the office and avoid the press.

 

When they pulled up to the Palace neither moved for a moment. Dan's head was leaning against the seat-rest, his eyes closed. Patting his friend's shoulder, he gave a loud exhale.

 

"It's over Danno. Would you rather go home?”

 

The head shook even as he opened his eyes. “We're at the office,” he stated. “We have some work to do – "

 

“Just for a minute,” McGarrett responded slowly. "Then I'm taking you home. After we make sure we've ditched the press.”

 

There was no argument. "It's been a long day. Month,” he snorted without humor.

 

"Yeah.”  Steve exited, keeping an eye on his friend as they climbed the steps to the Palace with some haste to get out of the rain.

 

The special exhibit was gone, the Palace first floor back to normal. Steve took that as a sign that he had his territory back, just as he had his detective back. Safe and sound and beyond the plague of Derek Jacobs.

 

When they entered the Five-0 office Jenny rushed up to throw her arms around Williams. Teary eyed, she asked what had happened and McGarrett brushed through an explanation as he pushed through to his office with a firm hand on Dan's arm. Gesturing for the younger man to sit in one of the chairs near the desk, he asked his secretary if there was any fresh coffee.

 

She disappeared to the outer office. McGarrett opened the French doors leading to the lanai and leaned on the doorframe, watching and listening to the purifying rain. It felt like the tears of Heaven were washing them clean of the misery that was Jacobs. The anguish and suffering that Danno, and the rest of them, had undergone through this ordeal was nearly indescribable. It was over and he felt they could press ahead with their lives now. After a moment, Dan joined him, silently sharing relief and joy in victory, as they watched the drizzles drip onto the lawns and trees of the grounds.

 

A commotion in the outer office alerted him. Dan walked ahead. Tensing, Steve followed, stress slowly receding as Bergman, Manicote and all his detectives gathered around Williams. Manicote had a bottle of champagne and some plastic cups. A celebration was indicated. Normally, McGarrett would have quashed any such frivolity following a draining case. This time, he felt it was right. It had been a group struggle to defeat Jacobs. The others needed the festivity – the closure of a horrendous case marked with the antithesis of the angst they had shared. All Steve needed was what he was seeing now – Danno relaxed, happy, almost carefree.

 

Turning toward him, Williams' gave a nod of invitation for the boss to join in on the subdued party. Coming to stand next to his friend, patting him on the shoulder, he noted Dan's face abruptly washed of color, the eyes unfocused. Then he felt Williams slacken and start to drop. Aghast, he caught his friend and eased his dead weight onto the floor, kneeling beside him.

 

“Danno!  Doc!  What's wrong?"

 

Bergman pushed McGarrett aside. “Damn, damn. Clear away! Give me some room!”

 

“What!”  Steve felt for a pulse on Dan's neck - nothing!  There was no pulse!  “Doc!”

 

"The tiger, Steve!”  Bergman spit out, but he was already starting CPR, ordering Jenny to call for an ambulance.

 

The tiger. Steve had forgotten the horrid experiment!  They all thought the danger was past!  His heart so heavy with horror he could hardly think, move, breathe. They had let their guard down on one front. One last danger had been left. With the trepidation over the film, then the courtroom drama, it had seemed they were home free. Staggered, he felt nothing but numb panic as he took over the breathing, Doc doing the compressions as he worked to save Danno's life!

 

*****

 

Flying down the hospital corridor alongside the gurney, McGarrett was pushed aside as orderlies pumped Williams' inert chest as they neared the ER doors at the end of the corridor. Doctors had met them at the curb and Bergman raced ahead to grab a syringe just as they reached the end of the hall. Pushed out of the way by aides who deftly took control as Bergman plunged what had to be an adrenalin shot right into Danno's heart.

The doors swung closed and McGarrett was kept on the other side by one of the staff who stood as a sentinel at the gates of the dimension of life and death. Steve knew the drill; Bergman's strict orders that he could not interfere with the medical professionals when they worked on a member of Five-0. A standing policy that McGarrett desperately wanted to break every time one of his detectives – Danno – entered this realm. Beyond this point someone else decided the fate of his friend. He had no control, no voice, no space.

 

Shell shocked at the dreaded turn of events, McGarrett took up his post leaning against a wall. Chin and Ben stayed for a time, adding moral support in a silent vigil. After what seemed a long time the boss dismissed them to go home to their families. There was nothing any of them could do here. Pacing, then weary far past endurance, he found a chair in the waiting room and leaned his head back against the wall.

 

They had traveled through the pain of Danno's wounds and near death that horrific night on the North Shore when Blane Adams had shot the younger detective and Steve feared for his life in that long vigil. He had suffered when he had ignored Danno's warnings and, with emotional anguish, when Danno was kidnapped and tortured, watching the progress of the demented brutality on film. Rescue came with the sobering recovery and knowledge that the drugs were deadly. But they had forgotten that in the shadow of the threats still carried by Jacobs. This – the final steps -- was despair. He watched the ever-pelting wind-drizzle weeping against the windows in the dying twilight of the day, his heart as black as the approaching night, as tearful as the rain.

 

“Steve?"

 

McGarrett started at the touch at his shoulder. Jumping up, he faced Bergman, instantly trying to read the Doc's face, then verbally cutting to his uppermost concern. "How is he, Doc?” His voice choked on asking of life or death, unable to speak words he was afraid to face.

 

Bergman smiled and patted the detective on the shoulder. "He's alive, Steve,” he breathed out in relief.

 

Coughing out a sigh, a cry, a sputter of release, he blinked back the moisture in his eyes. “Mahalo for saving him, Doc.” He started down the hall at a near jog. "I need to see him –"

 

“Steve – wait!” He grabbed onto the cop's arm and halted the charge. "He's resting –"

 

"I just need to see him, Doc,” McGarrett insisted, pulling away. At the doors of the ER he stopped, Bergman on his heels. "Is he all right?” It was a tough question to ask, but he had to have that answer before he saw his friend. How close was Danno to death's door?

 

“We're in unknown territory, Steve, with this drug. However, his heart is working just fine on its own, now. I think we are looking at a last, lingering anomaly of the drug. I'll want to keep an eye on him for a few days, but I'm feeling positive about his recovery.” He smiled. "He beat the odds for the second time today.”

 

Nodding, McGarrett didn't want to think about any of the peripheral elements of this ordeal anymore. Jacobs almost won this last round in the struggle. Close. But he did not triumph. Danno did. As Steve stepped into the room, he caught a breath in his throat at his pale friend. But when the blue eyes opened and a slight smile came onto the wan face, McGarrett advanced, grinning in return.

 

"Hey, Danno. Did Doc give you the word?"

 

Nodding, he glanced at the ME behind Steve, then back to the boss. "Yeah,” he quietly replied. "Things worked out for me better than they did for the tiger.”

 

"Yeah, they did.” He gently placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "And I don’t want you arguing about staying under observation for a few days.” He squeezed his hand for emphasis. "I want you completely cleared before Doc releases you. No more scares.”

 

Rubbing his fingers through his short, wavy hair, Williams gave a cant of his head, a tacit agreement. "As much as I dislike hospitals, no offense Doc, I'll stay here for a few days. But then –"

 

"Then,” Bergman interrupted, "Limited duty, limited surfing, and no heavy dates, young man!  Has it ever occurred to you I'm as tired of having you around as you are to be here?"

 

"No,” Dan responded quickly, then laughed at the sour expression on the ME's face.

 

Shaking his head, Bergman left with mutterings about not being appreciated when he was the hero of the hour.

 

Turning back to his friend, McGarrett studied Danno as the blue eyes closed and even slumber overtook him. Sitting on the edge of the bed he pondered that the real hero was right here, recovering from the final blow of a twisted criminal. Proof positive that the good guys won – in every phase and aspect -- this time around.

 

 

PAU