Chapter Text
***
Rumfire was typically low-key during the week, but tonight they hosted a live fusion jazz ensemble, featuring what had to be the loudest trumpet player on the island. Steve cringed when the musician hit a high-pitched note, increasing the dull throb of a growing headache.
A small crowd of locals gathered around the stage and a few people mingled at the bar. A faint hint of weed mixed with the odor of alcohol and lingering cigarette smoke from outside.
Danny stopped halfway toward the bar and pinned Steve with a frown. “What’s the matter? You’ve got one of your looks.”
“Nothing,” Steve grunted.
Danny waved his hand at the band on stage. “Don’t you like jazz?”
“I like a jazz, but you know, like the soothing kind. Bossa Nova, blues.” Steve shrugged. “I’d rather be home on the sofa.”
“You’d rather be home?” Danny held out his palms in question, a key tale of his annoyance.“Then why did you ask me if I wanted to go out?”
“Because I wanted to…you know….”
“To what?”
Steve rubbed at the pressure point at his temple with his wrist. He’d tried to do the thing where he put his desire aside for Danny andstill failed spectacularly in the execution. “I just felt after coming off a three-day stakeout, you would’ve preferred a quiet night at home.”
Danny arched his eyebrows and did that head tilt thing warning that he was about to launch into one of his rants. “After being stuck inside a cramped seat for over seventy-two hours, you thought I would have preferred spending time in the living room instead of going out and stretching my legs? Maybe enjoy something other than the non-stop nattering of a suspect who was in the middle of a divorce and cheating on his mistress with his therapist.” He stepped closer, every word loud and grating over the music. “We were stuck in the middle of some ridiculous gangster soap opera; so after three days of hell, yes, I wanted to go out for a bit.”
Steve winced; the surveillance van had been a tight squeeze and Tanner, their suspect, an annoying twit. He held out his hands in surrender. “Settle down, it’s fine. You’ve made a good point, okay?”
“Of course I did,” Danny said with a nod.
Steve went toward the bar and ordered a drink while Danny squinted when he tried to read the draft menu. Steve scanned the board of over fifty selections than back at Danny who mumbled under his breath. “Do you need some reading glasses there?”
“What I need is for this chicken scratch not be written in yellow chalk.”
Steve chuckled. “Well, I’m gonna hit the head.” He looked for the bartender, but couldn’t find where he disappeared. “And could you grab my beer when the guy returns?”
“Am I paying for it, too?”
Patting down his pockets, Steve realized he didn’t have his wallet. He gave Danny one of his most charming grins. “Do you remember when I chased our suspect into that pool and had to change pants?”
“I remember an unnecessary flying leap and getting splashed in the collateral damage. But since you owe me for your half of the grocery bill this month, I’ll just tack it on,” Danny said, waving him away.
Steve smiled and Danny rolled his eyes as he made a show of pulling out his credit card on his way to the bar.
***
Steve made turkey sandwiches for dinner because that was all the energy he had left after a surveillance stint, taking a swim with their suspect, a downtown booking, and the beginning of a migraine from the bar. Improvised jazz sounded like a bunch of screaming cats.
Steve handed Danny a plate and Danny scowled at the food like it was offensive, before he sat on the left side of the sofa. “Are we stopping by HPD to grab your wallet tomorrow?”
Steve reached for a bottle of mustard out of the fridge and glared at it when he realized it was empty. “No, we’ll wait until Monday.”
“You know we’ve got that thing at Lou’s house in the afternoon.”
It took a moment before Steve remembered what Danny was talking about. He closed his eyes, annoyed. “Oh man, it’s his daughter’s birthday.”
“Uh-huh.”
Steve walked into the living room and settled onto the sofa beside Danny, the plate balanced on his lap. “And we didn’t buy Samantha a present.”
Danny moved his plate on the coffee table, his sandwich half-eaten. “Nope.”
Steve calculated how many hours they had tomorrow morning before they needed to at Lou’s. “Okay, we’ll swing by somewhere before going over for lunch.”
“Don’t worry I’ll cover it, like you how I covered our tabs.”
“Hey, you drank my beer.”
“Call it interest. Besides, you still had two more.”
“Semantics,” Steve muttered.
Relaxing against the sofa cushions, Steve glanced over and noticed Danny’s chest hair sticking out from the unbuttoned opening of his shirt, stirring warm desire in his belly. Licking his lips, he leaned closer. “You know we don’t have to get up until ten and I’m kind of feeling a second wind coming on.”
The sofa dipped as Danny sprawled out, throwing his arms across the back of the couch. He groaned and not in an enthusiastic way. “My head’s killing me.”
Danny’s words had the effect of a cold wet blanket; Steve slouched in his seat.
“I’m going to take the high road on this and not mention who chose going out tonight.” Danny didn’t elbow him, so Steve knew he really wasn’t feeling well. He looked at Danny’s untouched dinner, another sign he was under the weather. Steve softened his tone. “You should eat.”
When Danny didn’t move toward the food, Steve began massaging the spot behind Danny’s ear at the base of his skull.
Danny made a low noise in the back of his throat, encouraging Steve to continue kneading the knotted muscle. “Come on; finish the sandwich so you can take some Advil.”
“Stomach’s off, too.”
“Okay,” Steve whispered. “Then let’s go to bed.”
Grabbing his arm, Steve helped Danny up. Maybe an early night would cure a long week of frazzled nerves. Danny didn’t say a word as Steve led him up the stairs, careful that he didn’t trip. “Maybe if you’re good I’ll even make breakfast.”
Danny snorted. “Is hell freezing over?”
Steve didn’t dignify him with a response.
***
A hacking noise woke-up Steve and he blinked several times to clear his vision, identifying the source of the retching coming from the bathroom. He looked over at the other side of the bed to find it empty with the sheets shoved aside. Wincing in sympathy, he switched on lamp from the nightstand and walked toward the halfway-way open door.
“Danny…you okay?”
He heard a pained groan from the bathroom, followed by more heaving. Steve hovered where Danny was bent over the toilet, panting. Steve grabbed a towel and wet it under the sink, waiting for a pause in between bouts of illness before kneeling down next to Danny.
Steve pressed the damp towel against Danny’s sweat-drenched neck and used it to wipe down the side of his face. Danny bowed his forehead against the rim of the toilet, his shoulders shaking.
“How long have you’ve been feeling like this?” Steve asked, keeping his voice low. Danny grunted, but didn’t say anything. “I know it sucks, but I need to know. Do you think its food poisoning?”
“I dunno,” Danny mumbled. “Fuckin’ sucks.”
“Yeah, it does.” Steve used his thumb to dig into the knotted tension in Danny’s neck. But they had both eaten the same thing, so maybe it wasn’t the sandwiches. “Did you eat anything at the bar?”
“No.”
And Grace and Charlie were fine they were over a few days ago. Danny’s body stiffened before he got sick again. Steve rubbed a soothing hand between Danny’s shoulder blades, the only form of comfort he could offer.
***
Worry and fear twisted inside Steve’s chest. It had been over an hour and Danny hadn’t stopped vomiting.
“We’re going to the ER; there’s no argument.” Steve threw on a shirt and shorts and dug through the top drawer of the dresser where Danny kept some of his clothes.
“No.” Danny was a curled ball of misery propped against the side of the tub. “Just let me lie on the floor to die in peace.”
“If you don’t let me help, then I’m calling an ambulance.”
“I’m not riding in a bus.”
“Then the ER it is.” Steve walked back over and bent down to grab Danny around the waist.
Danny batted Steve’s hands away. “Leave me alone.”
“Danny….”
“Can’t you allow me to be miserable alone?”
“Your skin’s clammy, you’re trembling, and you’ve been complaining of a headache.”
“I have a headache because you won’t go away.”
“Yeah? And on a scale of one to ten, how dizzy are you?”
Danny didn’t reply. Steve stood with his arms crossed. “If you can’t show me that you’re ambulatory, than I’m going to throw you over my shoulders and carry you to the car.”
“Fuck you.”
“Believe me, that’d be a lot more fun right now.”
A sense of dread grew into a ball under Steve’s ribcage. Danny’s hair was a frazzled mess; his complexion grey under the bathroom lights, his movement’s weak. Clenching his jaw, Steve studied the most strategic way to grab him when Danny made a choked sound, his body jerking before he spat blood onto the linoleum floor.
Fear exploded into full panic, Steve’s heart spiked like jackhammer against his breastbone. But he channeled it into action as he grabbed his cell phone, his mind racing. It’d take an ambulance twelve minutes to arrive and another twelve to reach the hospital.
Kneeling, he took Danny’s arm and slung it over his shoulders and hauled him to his feet. “Come on; lean all your weight on me.”
“Yeah,” Danny muttered, swaying. “I…I think you’re right.”
Steve never wanted to be so wrong in his life.
***
With his sirens and lights, it only took Steve eight minutes to drive to Tripler. He gunned it into the emergency lane designated for ambulances, having already radioed ahead; a medical team waited with a gurney.
“We’re here, buddy.” Steve rested a hand on Danny’s shoulder, but Danny’s features were pitched in distress, his breathing labored.
Steve nearly broke the driver-side door as he jumped out. “This is Detective Danny Williams from Five-O. He’s in his late thirties, pulse is thready, and he’s been throwing-up for over an hour, including vomiting blood.”
Three of the emergency staff pulled Danny out from the passenger-side. Steve couldn’t tear gaze from the red stains on the front of Danny’s white t-shirt as he was loaded onto the gurney; he hurried right behind through the emergency doors.
“BP is 150/95, pulse rate 100 with shortness of breath,” one of the nurses rattled off.
Steve followed Danny down the hall, but couldn’t enter the trauma area as automatic doors closed in front of him. As much as it killed him not to being able to go further, he knew better than to get in the way of a medical assessment. Danny deserved a hundred percent of the staff’s attention.
Resting his hands on his knees, Steve bent over, drawing long steady breaths into his lungs to defuse the terror still bubbling over, his adrenaline rush crashing. What the hell just happened?
“Commander McGarrett?”
Lifting his head, Steve looked over at the male nurse waiting on him. “Yeah.”
“Could you fill out some forms for Detective Williams?”
No, not really. But he took the paperwork.
“And do you have Detective William’s insurance card? We’ll need that information as well.” Steve gripped the clipboard and glared at the other man. The nurse gave him a sympathetic smile. “If you’d like to have a seat, there are some chairs down the hall and to your left.”
Steve didn’t want to fill out paperwork and he didn’t want to sit down. He took the offered pen and clipboard and walked toward the exit so he could move the Camaro from the emergency lane.
He needed to occupy his mind, even if it was only for a few minutes.
***
Steve stared at the walls, at the floor tiles, and debated if he should make certain phone calls. Then the whole team would show up, and the waiting room would fill with worried people instead of just him.
But Steve didn’t know what this was. People didn’t throw-up blood from the stomach flu. Then again Danny never did anything halfway.
He shook his head; Steve’s gut said this was serious. He pulled out his cell phone again and thumbed down his contact list….
“Commander McGarrett?”
Steve glanced-up at a guy in blue scrubs, who at best was only in his late twenties and already balding. “Yes.”
“I’m Dr. Anderson.”
Steve jumped to his feet. “How’s Danny?”
“We’re trying to stabilize him, but….”
“Wait, wait. What do you mean, you’re trying to? What’s wrong with him?”
“I was hoping you could answer a few questions so we can get a better understanding of his recent history….”
Steve shook his head. “His recent history? What does that have to do with anything?”
“If we have a detailed picture of what Mr. Williams has been doing the last few days, it might help us piece together what’s going on.”
“Which is what exactly?” Steve stepped closer, a habit from obtaining information from hostile suspects. “Listen, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll list every step Danny’s made in the last forty-eight hours, but you have to give me something. What are we dealing with?”
Dr. Anderson crossed his arms. “Detective Williams is showing signs of coagulopathy.”
“And what does that mean?”
“His body is having difficulty forming blood clots.”
There was a loud buzzing sound in Steve’s ears. “I still don’t follow.”
“It means that Detective Williams is bleeding into his soft tissues.”
***
Steve walked into the back of the emergency room area until he found exam room six. Steeling himself, he pulled the curtain back, and stared. Danny looked terrible. His face was sweaty and drawn, his eyes closed tight as he breathed heavy on his oxygen, an emesis basin held tightly between his hands.
“Stop starin’ at me. It’s bad enough I feel like crap. I don’t need an audience.”
“I promise I won’t stare.” Steve moved until he stood beside the bed. “They’re um, going to be moving you to regular room in the next hour.”
Danny opened bloodshot eyes and glared at him, deflated. “Great. I’ve earned myself an overnight stay.”
“They’ve got more tests to run, you know the drill. You’ll be feeling better in no time.”
“My blood isn’t clotting right which means every time I yack, I’m tearing-up my insides.”
“They said it’s probably from the lining of your esophagus.”
“I started pissing blood an hour ago.”
Steve swallowed against the lump in his throat; no one had told him that. Danny already looked like he was ready to accept a death sentence.
“The doc says they’re going to give you something to increase your clotting factors.” Danny stared at the ceiling, but Steve stayed the path. “We’re going to find out what’s going on. I promise.”
“Are you going to start an investigation, Dr. House?”
“If I have to.” Steve rested hand on Danny’s shoulder, curling his fingers into the solid muscle. “Do you remember being around anyone, anyone at all who’s been sick, someone at Grace’s school?”
“I’ve been with you on the same stakeout for the last three forsaking days.” Danny’s eye widened and he bolted forward, frantic. “What about you? Are you feeling –”
“I’m fine,” Steve said, pushing Danny back against the bed.
“Steve….”
“I’m not sick.”
“Maybe you should get a blood test or something to make sure.”
Steve started to protest, but Danny grimaced, both hands squeezing the emesis basin.
Heart racing, Steve didn’t know what to do. “Danny? What is it? Talk to me.”
“My…my muscles, they’re, damn it,” Danny choked, voice strained. “I’ve got spasms in my arms and legs. It feels like a bunch of Charlie horses.”
“Okay, I’ll go find someone, just hang on,” Steve said, grabbing Danny’s arm. “I’ll be right back.”
Steve flung the curtain open, almost ripping off its hinges as he yelled for help.
***
Steve returned to the waiting area, but he couldn’t sit, so he stood and stared at the nurses’ station until one of them asked him to stop.
He pulled out his cell phone to call the rest of the team, then hesitated, not knowing what the hell to tell them. Spreading panic without concrete facts wasn’t fair, but they deserved to be informed. Steve’s thumbed hovered over the touch screen when he spotted the nurse who had checked on Danny.
“Hey,” he said, eyes searching her nametag.
“My name is Amy, Commander; I’m the head nurse tonight.”
She wore fatigues like half the military staff and was twice the age as Danny’s doctor; it boosted his confidence talking to her. “Yes, Amy. Thank you, I was wondering if you had information on my partner, Danny Williams.”
“Dr. Anderson is still waiting on the labs he ordered.”
“What about the muscle contractions? Were you able to give him something?”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t. I was going to find some heating pads to –”
“Why not?”
“We don’t want to give him an anti-inflammatory with his nausea and the clotting problems.”
“Right, you’re right.” Steve rubbed a hand over the front of his face; he had to hold it together. “Do you know what caused it?”
She frowned, her voice genuine with regret. “I’m sorry Commander, but until we get some of the labs back, we can’t speculate.”
Disappointment joined Steve’s increasing anxiety. “Thank you.”
He watched her return to the nurses’ station before he glanced down at the cell phone still gripped in his hand. Taking a deep breath, he hit the button for Chin and headed outside to talk.
***
Steve had to step out while they transferred Danny to his room, leaving him a reluctant observer of humanity. Four a.m. on a Saturday in the ER was like a like a three-ring circus of patients: car accident victims, a drug OD, an early pregnancy, and an incident involving a man and a pane glass window.
Chin and Kono arrived just before Steve decided to kick out the drunk who had stumbled inside to take a nap in one of the waiting room chairs.
“Hey,” Chin called out, rushing over. His t-shirt was on inside out.
Kono followed right behind him.
Steve hugged them both. Kono brushed away the hair that had fallen in front of her face, eyes flicking around the waiting room. “Any updates?”
“Nothing yet,” Steve said, frustrated. “They’re waiting on blood tests.”
Chin nodded his expression thoughtful. “I did a search before I got in the car, but there hasn’t been any recent gastrointestinal or any other type of stomach bugs going around.”
“We’re way passed that.” Steve shook his head, the night a heavy weight on his shoulders. “His blood isn’t producing the proper clotting factors, throwing up tonight only revealed the problem.”
“We had a great aunt with that condition when she took a ridiculous amount of aspirin for her headaches,” Kono offered, grasping at straws.
“We’ve had the same bottle of Tylenol in the bathroom for months.”
“Steve,” Chin gestured at someone walking toward them.
A broad-shouldered man in blue scrubs with black-rimmed glasses and graying hair walked toward them. His movements spoke of seasoned military. “Hello, my name is Dr. Crandall; I’m the attending on duty. Are all of you with Detective Williams?”
“Yes, we are. I’m Commander McGarrett, Danny’s partner. This is the rest of his team.” Steve looked at the physician in confusion. “Where’s Dr. Anderson?”
“He was the resident on duty; I’m in charge of Detective Williams’ care.” Crandall moved them toward a corner of the waiting room. “As you know, Detective Williams presented with severe vomiting and hematemesis. His urine also contained blood. Our first round of tests indicated that his platelets were not clotting properly.” He waited a beat before continuing. “He’s exhibited increased tachycardia, headache, and muscle spasms that aggravating his respiratory function.”
Steve bit his lips, frustration mounting. “And do you have a diagnosis?”
“Not at this time.” Crandall consulted his I-pad. “I’ve ordered a full-work up after the initial blood work returned.”
“And what did that show?” Kono asked.
“His blood shows signs of neurotoxicity.”
The physician’s words hit Steve like a verbal punch to the solar plexuses. “Are you saying that Danny was poisoned?”
***
Dr. Crandall used the same expression Steve did with grieving families. “We’re not sure yet what caused the neurotoxicity, but yes, it is most likely poison.”
Steve’s mind pulsed with non-stop scenarios, ten million questions at the tip of his tongue, but every word, every thought died at his lips.
“Did the test results tell you what type of poison?” Chin asked.
“No,” Crandall answered, pragmatic. “All we can confirm is the evidence of neurotoxicity while trying to narrow down what type.”
“Then have your labs put a rush on the tests,” Steve growled. “This is a law enforcement officer and a member of the Governor’s task force.”
“I understand how stressful this,” Crandall said keeping his voice even. He gave each of them eye contact, ending last with Steve. “Given the number of substances that can impact the nervous system, it is going to take time to run a full chemical analysis when we don’t know what we’re looking for.”
“You said there was evidence of toxicity,” Kono said, speaking up for the first time. “What is it exactly?”
Steve appreciated how she re-directed the questions. They were law enforcement; dissecting clues was their job.
“The biggest indicator is the coagulopathy, but that in conjunction with the nausea, muscle spasms, and increasing blood pressure all point to neurotoxicity.”
“And will those things get worse?” Chin asked.
Crandall cleared his throat. “Until we can identify type of neurotoxin, we don’t have an effective treatment plan. So, yes, they will probably increase in severity over time.”
“But you are treating him?” Steve pressed, because it sounded like a lot of inaction and guesswork.
“All we can do is treat his symptoms until the rest of his labs come back.”
“Does he know?” Steve looked at Crandall, wondering if this stranger had told Danny that about being poisoned while he was alone, surrounding my sterile walls and machines.
“Not yet; we thought it would be best if he someone was there with him.”
A wave of relief washed over Steve before the cold realization of what was next. He felt a hand on his arm and looked over at Chin’s steady gaze, Kono moving to stand on Steve’s right side.
Chin nodded and Steve looked over at the doctor. “All three of us will be there.”
***
Steve stood in the corner of the waiting room, mustering his resolve before going in with Crandall to speak with Danny. Neither of them were strangers to danger, they had been with each other during bomb explosions, shoot-outs, standing side-by-side as they fought for their lives.
But this was different. The threat level was impossible to assess and the not knowing, the absolute lack of answers, was one of Danny’s biggest triggers. He would be terrified. Steve was terrified.
He exhaled a long lungful of air, then inhaled again, holding his breath a few seconds before starting the cycle over again to calm his mind. Danny would come through this; Steve would ensure it. And it was his job to make Danny see it, to have a hundred percent faith that Danny would beat this thing, because Steve could crawl through every level of hell to keep him safe.
He glanced at the doors leading outside; Kono had stepped into the parking lot to call Lou. It’d been Steve’s decision to wait until now given Sunday was Samantha’s birthday. Steve balled his right fist until it shook, the muscle tremor running up the length of his arm. He had to retain control.
His cell phone vibrated from inside his pocket. Steve pulled it out, wondering if it was Lou calling to chew him out. But the number was unknown and Steve’s paranoia level went off the charts.
“Hello,” he answered suspicious.
“Commander McGarrett,” a voice with a thick accent replied. It was European or Slavic.
“Who’s this?” Steve demanded.
“I must admit, Commander. I didn’t expect to be talking to you under these circumstances.”
“Yeah? And what circumstances are those?”
The man hmmmed under his breath. “That you’re still upright given you were the one who was supposed to be lying in a hospital bed.”
“What are you talking about?” he seethed, the buzzing back in his ears.
“I wanted to poison you, Commander, but what is that saying? I’ll make lemonade out of lemons.”
“Who are you, you sonofabitch?”
“All in good time.”
The line went dead.
***
Anger coiled inside Steve’s gut as he stared at his phone, his arm shaking in barely controlled fury. Someone had poisoned Danny. Hurt him. Put him in the hospital hooked up to wires and tubes while an unknown substance flowed through his veins, possibly--
No. He couldn’t think that way. He had to lock those thoughts down, focus. Danny may not have been the intended target, but now Steve knew this nightmare been deliberate action against him.
Why? What did the asshole want? Was it revenge? For what?
He glanced around the hallways, there wasn’t anyone watching him. The waiting room contained the same family members from hours ago. He walked toward the windows, searched for any tails. Nothing.
Steve checked his battery ensuring it was charged. It was the only connection to those responsible for this hell. The only….
“Hey Steve,” Chin said, hurrying over. “The doc wants us to go and talk to Danny now.”
Crandall came around the corner and looked over at Steve and Chin in expectation. “Are you guys ready?”
Not by a long shot. Steve’s head whirled with his new information, the guilt burning a hole inside, but he didn’t have any details to share, nothing that could help them.
“Commander McGarrett?”
He couldn’t give into his anxiety; Danny needed shoring up, not torn down by the unknown.
“Steve…,” Kono stood in the middle of the hallway, waiting.
Swallowing, Steve cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m coming.”
***
Perhaps walking into Danny’s room together was the equivalent of shepherding in the four-horsemen. Chin and Kono took spots on side of Danny’s bed by the window while Steve stood the closet to the door. Dr. Crandall followed last, consulting his tablet.
Danny physically deflated against the bed at the sight of them; it was definably the wrong decision.
Steve kept his expression calm despite the fear raging inside, his mind dissecting every word from the phone call, his stomach twisting in knots. He had to be tough for Danny, be the rock. But Danny latched onto the thick vibe of dread in the room; his chest began rising with every fast tug of oxygen from the cannula.
Steve took Danny’s hand. It must have been all the confirmation that Danny needed that this was bad; the offered comfort only added to Danny’s growing alarm, the lines in his forehead doubling in worry.
Dr. Crandall took that opportune moment to explain to Danny about the test results, with Danny crushing Steve fingers in a vice grip with every passing second.
Chin’s expression remained stoic; Kono’s faltered as she started rubbing the front of her jeans.
“So, I’ve been poisoned and we’re clueless.” Danny spoke like a condemned man.
“They’re still running tests,” Steve said, forcing reassurance into his words.
But Danny would have none of it. “Except we all know that there’s hundreds of ways to poison a person and the longer it takes to identify the toxin, the less time the victim has.”
“Danny,” Kono began.
Danny pushed himself further up in the bed, ignoring her. “And even if we figure out what’s damaging my cells and organs, it doesn’t mean there’s a treatment.”
“We don’t know that,” Kono argued, but her voice faltered, the unknown striking fear into them all.
“No, we don’t, we don’t know anything, do we?” Danny shot back. “And in the meantime, the poison continues eating away my insides.”
“It’s slow-acting, Danny.” Chin looked at him in challenge. “How many assassins use poison as a weapon of choice? You and Steve drove home, had dinner, and then went to bed. It took hours for this thing to take effect, if it was supposed to kill immediately, it should have done so by now.”
“Gee, thanks,” Danny mumbled. He slumped back against the bed, his complexion drained of color.
“No, Chin’s right.” Kono rested both hands on the bed rail, moving closer. “Poisoning is meant to incapacitate or it’s meant to kill. If someone wanted you dead, why pick something that doesn’t work instantaneous?”
Steve wanted to punch the wall; this was all meant for him.
“Or maybe the sicko just gets off on it.” Danny began fiddling with the edge of his bed sheet, avoiding eye contact with them. “I mean does it matter? I’ve been poisoned before; my lungs are probably already compromised. I lead a stressful life which must take its toll; heart disease runs in my family….”
“Danny,” Steve said, trying to calm him.
“Grace and Charlie,” Danny wheezed, his eyes darting around, his terrified gaze locking with Steve. “What about–”
“It’s almost seven in the morning; they’re both on their way to school.” Steve grasped Danny’s hand harder. “They don’t know yet.”
Danny stared at Steve, his voice cracking as he almost broke the bones in Steve’s fingers. “I don’t want them to see me when I’m…when I’m….”
“You’re not dying, listen to me. You. Are. Not. Dying.” Steve bent over the railing until his face was inches away from Danny’s. “You’re sick, but you’re going to be fine. I will not let anything happen to you, understand me?”
“Yeah,” Danny whispered.
Steve hated this, hated seeing Danny, one of the bravest men he’s ever known, look so scared.
“Steve’s right,” Chin spoke after a stretch of silence. “While the doctors work on a treatment, we’ll find the people responsible.”
Steve thought back to the phone call, at the thick voice dripping in malice.
“Except if the motive is extortion then why hasn’t there been a demand?” Danny looked over at Chin and Kono, settling his gaze at Steve, his lips thinning. “Steve?”
“I’m going to find the person who did this to you, Danny. I promise.”
Danny stared at him in concern. “Steve…?”
Chin looked over at Steve his brow furrowed. Kono frowned, confused.
“I got a call a few minutes ago.” Steve’s voice shook as he battled to control it. “It only lasted a minute.”
“The people who did this contacted you?” Chin asked.
“Yeah.”
“And you were going to mention it when?” Danny asked, still staring at Steve.
“Now. I wasn’t withholding it; it happened literally right before we walked in, I was still…processing….”
“Maybe next time you could process it faster,” Danny growled.
Steve shook his head at his cowardice. Danny had every right to be pissed at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t….”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re sorry. We will discuss you not being honest at the beginning later. ” Danny flapped his hand at him, puffed out of breath. “What did they say?”
Steve stood straighter, his voice grit. “You weren’t supposed to be poisoned. I was the target.”
And he would do anything to switch places with Danny, sparing him this grinder of pain.
“Did they say why?” Chin asked.
Steve stared at Danny, searching for his emotions, be it anger or blame.
“Steve,” Chin pressed. “Did say what they wanted?”
“No.” And that was the most damning thing of all. “They only told me that they were surprised that I wasn’t the one hospitalized.” Steve crouched to his haunches, bending over at an awkward angle, his voice ice. “But I swear to you Danny, they’ll call again. And when they do, we’ll be ready.”
***
Steve sat in the chair as Kono and Chin said their goodbyes and he remained sitting when one of the nurses came in to give Danny something for his increased nausea.
“I’m sorry, Danny.”
“For what? For not telling me about the phone call or because of the poisoning?”
“Both.”
“You should have mentioned the call earlier. I know you have a habit of burying the lede but when it comes to threats against a member of our family, you better damn well make it a priority to share it with the rest of us.” Danny clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut as he panted hard through a bout of pain.
Steve rose from his chair, but Danny threw up his right arm, batting it against Steve’s chest. After a several agonizing seconds, Danny pressed the back of his head against his pillows, breathing heavy in long inhales and exhales.
“However,” he continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “you are not allowed to apologize for not being the one in this bed.”
“Danny…”
“No. Do not stand there and regret that you were are not poisoned. Yeah, I know it’s futile, because you’re you. Mr. Sacrifice who jumps on a grenade to save everyone but yourself.” Danny swallowed and wrapped both arms around his stomach. “While this sucks, I’m glad you’re not sick. I love you and it would kill me to see you….”
Steve shoved down the railing and rested his body against Danny’s and held him close. Danny wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him even tighter.
“I promise you, Danny, I promise I’ll—”
Steve’s words were muffled Danny’s shushing. It was unfair; Steve was supposed to protect Danny, give him all the security and reassurance in the world.
And Steve vowed to fulfill his promise.
***
Steve stared at the timeline he created documenting the last five days. They had take-out during every surveillance shift, creating fifteen opportunities to contaminate their food or drinks. He leaned back in his chair and stared at his laptop, his eyes straying to his cell phone. It’d been three hours since he received that call.
Someone knocked on his door. Steve looked up and waved Lou over.
“Hey.” Lou walked toward Steve’s desk. “Chin and Kono are canvassing the bar you and Danny went to last night to interview the staff and see if they have and security footage.”
“Good. I’ve got the receipts from all restaurants and fast-food joints we ordered from during the stakeout.”
“Any thoughts on suspects?”
Steve rubbed at his eyebrow. “I pulled lists on recent parolees and suspects awaiting trial. But no one stands out who has the connections to buy or manufacture a sophisticated poison.” He picked up the pad of paper he’d written some notes on. “Nor fits the profile.”
“What profile is that?” Lou asked peering over the desk to catch a glance.
“Someone who is patient, meticulous, intelligent and vindictive.” Lou raised an eyebrow in curiosity and Steve gave him a shrug. “I used help work-up profiles on terror suspects when I was in Naval Intelligence. It was pretty basics stuff, but it’s a start.”
“What’s your gut telling you?”
“I don’t know.” Steve needed a target for his frustration, a suspect to hunt. “If I hadn’t put a bullet in Wo Fat’s head, I’d say this has his level of complexity….”
“But?”
Steve chewed on his lip regarding Wo Fat’s blood-lust. “He enjoyed being up front and personal.” He felt Lou’s worried gaze on him and Steve looked up and offered an apologetic look. “I’m sorry you’re missing Samantha’s birthday.”
It was a diversion tactic, one Lou allowed. “Hey man, don’t you worry about that. She’d rather spend it with her giggling friends anyway.”
Steve’s cell phone rang; the display read unknown caller. His chest tightened in anticipation.
Lou pulled out his own phone. “I’ll tell Jerry to trace the call.”
They’d been anticipating this. Grabbing the phone, Steve waited a beat, clearing his head of all emotion. Lou nodded that Jerry was ready. Steve exhaled, one, two, three. He put the call on speaker.
“McGarrett,” he answered.
“Commander.” The man pronounced with a hard r.
Steve ground his teeth against the desire to threaten the suspect with bodily harm, but this man was a terrorist, and it was Steve’s job to negotiate, to do whatever it took for Danny. “What do you want?”
“I want the Krylov file.”
Steve frowned, caught off guard by the demand. “I’m not familiar with that.”
“No, but Doris McGarrett stole it from me many years ago and I want it back.”
He balled his right hand into a fist. What the hell? When would his mother’s actions ever stop haunting him? “I don’t have any idea where she is.”
“Then you better find her.”
“Listen to me; I have zero clues about her location. If Doris McGarrett doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be.”
“Then you better figure something out for Detective Williams’ sake.”
“Wait!”
But the line clicked dead again. Steve stared at Lou who was talking to Jerry. “Well?” he demanded.
Lou held out his hand, his face drawing tight before he glanced over at Steve. “Jerry said the signal was being bounced all over the place. By the time he started working his magic, the call ended.”
Steve paced in front of his desk; his jaw muscles spasmed, his pulse throbbed in his ears, the absolute lack of control enraging him.
“Steve,” Lou said quietly.
“This whole thing, this whole fucking nightmare was orchestrated to draw-out Doris,” Steve growled, fuming. “I should have figured it out earlier. Poisoning is right out of the spy handbook. It’s a classic cold-war tactic.” His chest heaved with every circuit he made pass his desk. “And you know what Lou, this scheme, this elaborate plan? It never had a snowball’s chance in hell of working.”
Lou crossed his arms, watching him. “If your mother is hiding that far underground, the chances of finding out you were poisoned were going to be a long-shot.”
Steve snorted bitterly at the hard truth. “Doris still has her network of eyes and ears. She would’ve found out, but she wouldn’t fall for the bait. She would never give an enemy the satisfaction.”
“I don’t follow.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Lou was a family guy; Steve was glad he didn’t understand. “If my mother didn’t come out of hiding after I killed Wo Fat, she’s not going to come forward now.”
Lou’s face fell in realization of Steve’s words. He opened his mouth to say something than looked like he changed his mind. Standing, he placed his hands in his hips. “So, what’s our next move?”
There was only one option. Steve held Lou’s gaze in harsh determination. “We out maneuver this asshole.”
***