Chapter Text
As was usual on Oahu, the June morning was bright blue, with just a few wisps of mist perched on the mountains northeast of Honolulu. The gentle breeze provided a welcome refreshment in the Hawaiian heat. A beautiful Sunday. Perfect for a scenic hike, catching a wave, exploring the coral reefs underwater, or just laying on the beach and doing nothing. That's what most of the tourists came here for, after all.
But the morning was far from perfect for Steve.
He'd been woken up by a call from the governor after less than four hours of sleep. Criminals didn't take a vacation, it seemed. As if the fact his weekend plans with his family were ruined wasn't enough, his Silverado refused to work. The engine sputtered in protest and that was as far as he got. Annoyed by not so good start of the day, he was forced to call Danny to pick him up on his way to work.
At least the case they got was pretty straight forward and in a matter of a few hours they were down to two suspects.
Steve lifted his eyes from a pile of papers and glanced at the clock in his office. Half-past ten.
"Shit!" he swore.
It must've been louder than he realized, because Danny appeared in his doorway in seconds, scanning his friend head to toe. "You good?"
"Yeah," Steve said with a frown. "I forgot about Mary and Joannie. I promised to take them to the Sea Life Park today."
Danny threw him a sympathetic look. "You can take them next time."
"You know what?" Steve said, standing up. "No. They don't come here often enough. Joannie was all hyped up about the penguins and dolphins. They shouldn't stay at home because I have to work. Would you mind if I drop them off there and come back?"
"I've got a better idea," Danny said. "Why don't you just go with them? We've got this covered."
That wasn't an option. Steve was Danny's partner and he couldn't enjoy the family time in peace, knowing Danny was out there chasing criminals without him. He was supposed to have Danny's back. "No," he said. "Just give me an hour. Send me the address of the suspects and I'll meet you there."
"Steve, you don't have to–"
"Give me your keys," Steve interrupted, stretching his hand toward Danny. "Please."
The blonde man sighed in defeat and did as asked, frowning. "Please, don't break mine, too."
"I didn't break it, alright?" Steve protested. "Something's wrong with the engine. I'll check it out tomorrow."
Danny frowned at that. "Huh."
"What?"
"Nothing." Danny shrugged. "I just think that maybe it'd be better to call someone who actually knows what they are doing, you know? Like a mechanic."
Steve narrowed his eyes. "You wanna say I don't know what I'm doing? I've been working on cars since my childhood, Danny. I'm not gonna pay someone to do what I can do on my own."
"Right. Because that Marquis in your garage is a fully functional proof of your abilities," Danny teased.
"That car is classic, Danny, how many times do I have to tell you? It's not easy to maintain," Steve said. He raised his palms in defense. "You know what, I'm not gonna argue about this. I need to go."
He walked out of his office, dialing Mary's number on his way.
It took longer than expected to drive home in heavy traffic, pick up the excited little girl and her mom, and drive them to the east shore. As always, Mary didn't let Steve drive at his usual speed with Joannie in the car, which was fair enough, but still frustrating.
He had promised the team to be back in an hour, and he was already running late, which was something he hated doing. Years in the Navy had taught him to always be on time.
Steve grabbed his phone, ready to call Danny and tell him he was on his way.
But something else got his attention before dialing the number. He heard the sound of the car from the road to his left. He looked out and saw a blue Dodge Durango, about a hundred feet away, picking up speed rather than slowing down. He knew, too late, that he had been made and what was about to happen.
The engine of the Dodge roared louder and he looked back, seeing two men in the front seats. The fender slammed into the side of the Camaro, blasting the door inwards, detonating the glass in the window and tipping it onto its side. Steve's body was thrust to the side, his head cracking off the crumpled frame of the vehicle. Then, overbalancing, the car toppled down and slammed against the hard surface, leaving Steve hanging upside down. The Dodge was thrown into reverse, metal shrieking as the mashed fender was yanked away from the torn remains of the door.
The Camaro stopped dangerously close to the edge of the slope for a second, and just when Steve thought it would no longer roll, he felt the movement. The car began to tip over once again, toppling over back to its wheels. Then the roof again, making Steve's head spin as it rolled down the steep hill on the side of the road. Soon, he lost the sense of up and down. It was like a roller coaster his dad had taken him to as a child. But this time it wasn't only scary. This time every turn came with a promise of more pain and it seemed it'd never stop.
Even though Steve'd known it would come eventually, it still took him by surprise when the car finally came to an abrupt halt at the bottom. Whatever he'd hit, he wasn't prepared for that impact.
His body slumped back into the seat, his head in a daze and whole body in pain.
And within seconds, he was out.
It was a loud noise, gnawing at him with persistent urgency, that aroused him from the sweet unconsciousness. It sounded so distant, yet so close at the same time. Almost like… a cell phone? Ringing? He wasn't sure. But it didn't matter, because it stopped soon enough, and for a while, his labored breathing and blood roaring in his ears were the only sounds he could hear.
Darkness gnawed at him, threatening to suck him in. He was almost ready to succumb, but then the noise came again. Louder. Even more insistent. And this time, Steve was certain it was his cell phone. But he couldn't bring himself to care. He just waited for it to stop ringing, to stop sending waves of pain through his skull.
He closed his eyes, hoping that the world would stop spinning, but it didn't. It only spun faster. Slowly, he peeled his lids open again. Sucked in a deep breath. But when white-hot agony tore through his chest, he realized it to be an even bigger mistake than closing his eyes. It felt like an explosion of a thousand broken shards of glass tearing through his chest.
He coughed, blood in his throat.
The pain intensified, making a soft groan escape his cracked lips as the edges of his unfocused vision dimmed.
Trying to make sense of what had just happened, he slowly looked around. He caught a glimpse of two blurry shapes climbing down the slope in the distance. People?
He coughed again, trying to clear his throat so that he might speak. His vision seemed to dim, and an envelope of darkness closed in from the edges. "Help," he croaked.
Did they hear him?
"H-help," he tried again. "Over here."
He blinked, fighting to stay awake. The task seemed nearly impossible.
The blurry shapes of the people walking in his direction came into focus once again. They didn't seem to be in a hurry. And the moment Steve's eyes finally reached their faces, he knew why.
Even with a dazed mind, he could recognize the two men he'd seen a split second before the crash. He remembered the large SUV speeding up.
They didn't come down here to help him.
Steve squirmed and cried out in pain without actually moving an inch. His vision dimmed for a moment. When it stabilized again, Steve stole a quick glance at the men approaching.
Come on, McGarrett. You can do this. You gotta move!
He tried again. But it felt like another thousand knives just bore into his upper chest and his leg at the same time. Yet, he couldn't move.
The men were almost at the bottom of the slope. They'd reach him in a minute or so.
His eyes landed on the glove compartment automatically. That's where he'd keep a gun if it was his car. He'd have another one under the seat. But Danny didn't allow him to keep the weapons around in his car.
"I drive my kids in this car, Steven," Danny would say.
Danny.
Steve's head spun faster when he turned right and left, searching for the phone. It laid just left of him. Close enough for him to reach it.
His hand inched toward the phone, until he was able to curl the bloody fingers around it. A wide web of cracks spread over the screen, but it was still working for now. He pressed a speed dial button, put it on a speaker, and let it lay on the seat beside him, unable to find the energy to lift it up.
Danny answered in in an instant.
Steve tried to take in the voice of his partner, talking to him, but the words came out fuzzy and way too fast.
"Steve, you there?" Danny asked when Steve didn't reply. "Steve?"
He noticed the concern rising with every time his partner said his name.
And at the same time, he also noticed the driver of the Dodge.
And the pistol in his hand.
"D'nny." A streak of blood made its way out of his mouth as he whispered his partner's name.
A second of silence was followed by a much softer, concerned voice. Steve didn't manage to catch all the words, but it sounded like a question. Hurt? Maybe that was it.
"Don't know," he slurred, barely keeping his heavy eyelids apart. He was tired. Exhausted, even. But his mind screamed at him that he had to stay awake for as long as possible.
Danny's voice grew more and more urgent, and Steve did his best to answer, but it was harder than ever to come up with a reply. Not to mention speaking hurt, if it was even possible. His words came out slurry and gibberish, just like his thoughts.
The men were now close enough. They stopped, and a moment later, Steve saw one of them lifting a weapon, aiming it in his direction.
He knew that was it. He wasn't going anywhere.
"'m s'rry," was all he managed to say.
Danny kept talking, but Steve's brain wasn't able to process any of the words. Only the desperation in his friend's voice. Slumping his shoulders in defeat, he slid his eyes close and let the exhaustion take over.
The voice of his best friend faded out as the gunshot was fired, and then there was nothing but pure blackness.
*to be continued*