Hawaii Five-0 fic: 'Family business', 2/?
See chapter 1 for full headers and overall warnings.
Rating: R for non-explicit sexual content and references to violence.
Warnings: non-graphic descriptions of a fatal hunting accident, and discussions of racial prejudice.
Word count: 3,700 words for this chapter.
Author's notes: I'm grateful to everyone who left encouraging feedback on the first chapter. Thanks also to elrhiarhodan and maudlinrose, for answering my law questions about this chapter.
***
Chapter 2
Danny wakes up the next morning with one hand wrapped around his cock. His dream quickly fades away, but he has a terrible feeling that Steve had a starring, X-rated role in it. Teeth gritted, he ignores his erection and doesn't jerk off in the shower like normal. Dreaming of his half-brother is far from normal; Danny won't give his sick and twisted unconscious mind any encouragement.
Three hours later, he's had two cups of coffee and - as mandated by HR - has skimmed through HPD's procedures and conduct manual. Danny is pleased to see that the anti-homophobia rules are much stronger than his old department's measures. He mostly dates women and isn't planning on coming out anytime soon, but it's still an encouraging sign.
As he reads, Danny can't help noticing that most of the detectives are giving him a wide berth. He's the only white face in this bullpen, a minority for the first time in his professional life, and he's feeling the chill despite the warm weather outside.
The tension becomes even more obvious when Danny heads to the break room for more coffee and a snack. He stands at the vending machine, counting out change and contemplating his choices. Kaleo, one of the older guys, comes up behind him and says, "Hurry the fuck up, pilau haole."
A couple of the others laugh, while the rest look on silently. Unsure of his ground, Danny says nothing and retreats empty-handed.
Back at his desk, he immediately goes googling. A search for that first word just brings up some kind of Middle Eastern rice dish, which is weird, but 'haole' seems like a common and controversial term. Though several sites say it simply means 'non-Hawaiian' or 'Caucasian', the second result is a Wikipedia page entitled 'Kill Haole Day'. Fucking great, he thinks, and closes his browser window.
Danny stops by Reyes' desk around noon, and finds her compiling monthly statistics - the bane of every cop from Hoboken to Honolulu. "Hey, can I buy you lunch?" he asks. "I'm trying to figure this place out, and I could use some help."
"Yeah, sure. I'm going cross-eyed from all these numbers, anyway."
"So I'm feeling distinctly unwelcome in the bullpen," Danny says bluntly, once they're at the food court of a nearby mall. "Is it because I'm new to Hawaii, or because I'm white, or because I took a job someone else wanted?"
"All of the above," Reyes says, and deftly maneuvers a piece of sushi into her mouth.
"Well, what can I do about it? I'm not expecting some instant buddy-buddy thing, and I know trust has to be earned. But I'd like to be sure you guys will have my back in a firefight, you know?" Danny gestures eloquently with his plastic fork, and adds, "I have a daughter to think of, here."
"Okay, let's start small." Reyes points her chopsticks at his neck. "Lose the noose, first of all. Dress more lightly and more casually, period, or else you're gonna sweat like crazy once the weather gets hot."
Danny chokes on a mouthful of egg fried rice. It's at least 80 degrees out today, which to him already feels like summer. Still, he takes her point...and maybe she's got a point about the tie as well. It's so much a part of his daily attire he hadn't thought twice about putting it on, but none of the other male detectives wear one.
"Your feet will stink in those leather loafers, too," she continues. "And anyway, HPD's jurisdiction covers the whole island, not only the city. So the job takes us to beaches, to mountains, and plenty of other places where nice shoes just aren't suitable."
"These are highly useful suggestions, and I appreciate them," Danny says. "But no matter what I wear, I'll still be white and that'll still be a problem."
Reyes sighs, putting down the chopsticks and running both hands through her short brown hair.
"Look, I can't deny that a few people will be prejudiced against you no matter what. For the rest of us, though, it's really more about attitude than skin color."
"What attitude?" Danny interjects. "I said 'Hi, nice to meet you' to Kaleo when we got introduced yesterday, then he spent the whole day out on a case. And the first I saw of him this morning? He swore at me for delaying his snacks purchase by all of ten seconds. I don't know exactly what 'pilau haole' means, but don't tell me my attitude earned me that insult."
"Yeah, okay, Kaleo's an asshole," she admits. "But just shut up and listen for a minute. We've had plenty of mainlanders show up at HPD before - mostly Feds, plus a few transfers like you. They usually insist their approach is best, ignoring our expertise about the local people and the local conditions. Some of them dismiss Hawaiian culture; some even mock how we talk. It gets real old real fast, you know? So don't be surprised if the guys assume the worst of you, to start with. Make an effort to fit in with us, to learn our ways, and prove them wrong."
Danny blinks at Reyes as he absorbs all this. He wants to protest that he wouldn't be so arrogant or disrespectful...but yeah, it's true that he's used to East Coast ways of getting shit done. He's used to expressing forceful opinions, too, and he can see how that might be interpreted as the ignorant newcomer mouthing off out of turn.
Finally, he says, "Okay, I'll try. No guarantees about keeping my mouth shut, but I can keep my eyes and ears open." Feeling uneasy, he takes the conversation back a step. "So who wanted my job, and how worried should I be?"
She shrugs. "A few guys from Vice and Narcotics hoped to make the step up, but the brass wanted someone with more experience. And some of the Homicide squad are still pissed that Meka Hanamoa jumped ship to Five-0; they might take that out on you, since you're his replacement."
"Was Ahuna one of them? He seems real bitter about that taskforce."
"Yeah. Ahuna's got five years' experience on Meka, and thought he deserved that bump in pay and status. But SEAL-Steve liked Meka's style, they worked well together on his dad's case, and the rest is history."
"SEAL-Steve?" Danny repeats. "You call Commander McGarrett that?"
"Not to his face. But you should see him in the water, brah," Reyes says, expression suggesting she's revisiting an enjoyable memory. "He swims like he was born to it. And God, those tattoos..."
Danny has a sudden mental picture of what Steve might look like in swim trunks, all long limbs and lean torso and inked skin. It's followed by a wave of nausea - Jesus fuck, what is wrong with him? Danny puts down his fork, no longer hungry, and takes a prolonged swig of soda to hide his face from Reyes.
"So does everyone in HPD hate these Five-0 folks, or what?"
"There's a lot of resentment, yeah." Reyes chews on her lower lip. "Personally, I don't think it's entirely justified: they use unorthodox methods, sure, but they get results. In less than two months, the four of them have caught a whole bunch of killers, shut down a forced prostitution ring, and helped prevent a serious gang war."
Danny whistles. "Wow, they have been busy."
"Yeah, McGarrett doesn't seem to have an off-switch. He still operates like a soldier, but Meka's trying to teach him police procedure as they go. I think Chin is helping with that, too; even if he is dirty, like the brass alleges, he's a veteran and he knows his shit. And his wife Kono is fresh out of the academy, but she's been around cops all her life."
Having a couple on the team must make for an interesting dynamic, Danny thinks. Back home there were a few guys whose wives also worked for the department, but always in some kind of office job instead of out in the field. And if any of Newark's male detectives were romantically involved with each other, they kept it on the down low.
"Do you guys work closely with Five-0?"
"Not much," Reyes says. "We've had a couple of big situations, requiring all hands on deck. Mostly, they do the investigating and get unis to do crowd control or boring legwork."
So it sounds like Danny won't see much of Steve, on the job at least. He doesn't know whether to be thankful or disappointed.
She tilts her head, studying Danny's face. "Why are you so curious about them?"
He shrugs, deliberately casual. "It's good to know the lay of the land, in interagency terms. If I'd transferred anywhere else in the US, I'd be asking about cooperation between the local PD, the county sheriff, and the state police. Here, it's just you guys and Five-0."
Reyes' phone rings, then, saving Danny from any more awkward questions. She listens for a few moments before hanging up.
"Homicide over in the windward hills; looks like a hunting accident. Captain Makaha wants you to roll with me."
As they head to her car, Danny asks, "So are we gonna be partnered up permanently?"
"Looks likely," Reyes says. "It'd make sense, since Meka was my partner before SEAL-Steve poached him."
Danny nods, relieved. He doesn't know yet how good Reyes is as a detective, but he likes her and thinks she's someone he could come to trust. "That'd be cool with me," he says, fastening his seatbelt.
She flashes him a grin and peels out of the parking lot.
***
Reyes clearly knows this island inside out - she drives fast, even on the narrow mountain roads. Danny holds on for dear life, and tries not to break his no-puking streak.
After a 20 minute drive that would've taken Danny twice as long, Reyes pulls up at the end of an unpaved side road. The trees clinging to the valley's steep sides are a lush green, even in November. Danny knew, intellectually, that Hawaii was tropical and that the usual seasonal changes didn't apply, but it's still weird to see.
And it's hard to believe that such rugged wilderness exists so close to a major city. Beyond the two patrol cars already here, there aren't any signs of civilization: no power lines, no houses, and no cell reception either.
His family didn't do much outdoorsy stuff, when Danny and his siblings were growing up, and there was never enough money for summer camp. So Danny is way out of his comfort zone, here. He's only seen forest like this in movies, where nothing good ever happens to people who go looking for a dead body.
A patrolman approaches and tells Reyes, "The vic is Mikala Campbell from Wahiawa, aged 20. The 19-year-old who shot him, Joseph Keahi, is still at the scene. It's about a quarter hour's hike up that trail, then turn left at the waterfall and follow the yellow tape."
At the sight of the uni's mud-covered boots, Danny swears quietly. His favorite pair of loafers are about to get ruined, and it's only his second goddamn day.
Reyes kindly doesn't say, 'I told you so'. Instead, she pops the trunk of her car and rummages around. "Hey, you're in luck. My husband left some old sneakers in here, and I think you're about his size."
The Chucks are battered and sand-encrusted, but they fit well enough. "Thanks, Reyes," Danny says. For good measure, he pulls off his tie and leaves it in the glove compartment, then unbuttons his shirt collar and rolls up his sleeves.
Reyes nods. "Much better - we'll get you looking all kama'aina yet. That means local, more or less," she explains, when Danny just blinks at her.
"So kama'aina is the opposite of haole?" he asks, hoping to find his linguistic bearings.
"Nope, not that simple: some white people can also be considered kama'aina."
Danny sighs. He'll have to start a vocab list in his notebook, just like when he was trying to pick up Spanish as a beat cop back home.
"McGarrett's a good example," Reyes adds. "He was born here, speaks pidgin, and respects Hawaiian ways."
As the two of them hike up the hill together, Danny contemplates what might have been. If Jack hadn't already been married to Steve's mom, maybe he'd have come back for Ma and brought her out here. Then Danny would've been the one to grow up as a kama'aina haole.
But in that scenario, Danny and Rachel's paths wouldn't have crossed in Jersey...Grace would never have existed, and he can't bear to think of life without his little girl.
Reyes is setting a pace that Danny struggles to match. He'd cut down on gym time during his last few weeks at home, in the mad rush to get ready to leave. He'll have to check out HPD's work-out room, since he's not keen on jogging in this heat.
Steve probably runs up mountains like this for fun. Danny's fucked-up brain provides a vivid image of Steve in shorts and a wife-beater, muscled chest slick with sweat and tanned throat working as he gulps down water. Danny digs his fingernails into his palms, and keeps walking.
***
When Danny heard 'hunting accident', he assumed someone with a rifle had fired at a deer and hit a person instead. But the dead man lying between a bamboo grove and a dense cluster of tree ferns has an arrow embedded in his throat.
Danny sure as shit ain't in Newark anymore.
"What do people hunt, here?" he asks Reyes. Though he's tempted to make a crack about prehistoric tools, their conversation over lunch is still fresh in Danny's mind. Anyway, the large bow lying nearby looks remarkably hi-tech.
"Wild boar, mostly - the meat tastes great," she replies, gazing around the scene. "They're an introduced pest, so culling them is encouraged. My dad loved to hunt, but he mostly used a gun."
A young guy with long black hair and a tear-stained face is slumped against a tree, knees pulled up to his chest. This is Joseph Keahi, Danny presumes. A patrolman is crouched at his side, but at a nod from Reyes he moves away. Danny hangs back to watch her work.
"Hi, I'm Detective Reyes. Can you tell me what happened here?"
Keahi looks up at her. "I came up early this morning to do some solo hunting. I wasn't having much luck until I spotted a big pua'a kane headed for that wallowing patch over there. I took a shot at it, but I missed and hit my buddy Mikala. He's so good at stalking, so damn quiet - I didn't even know he was there, I swear!"
"What did you do then?"
"I rushed over to him, but it looked real bad...blood everywhere, and he wasn't breathing. So I ran up to the summit to get reception, and called 911. But when I made it back down here, Mikala was dead." The kid's eyes well up again.
"Why weren't you guys wearing those bright orange vests, or even just an orange cap?" she asks.
"This valley is a bowhunting-only zone," he tells her, wiping at his face with shaking hands. "Hi-vis clothing isn't required, so most of us wear camo gear instead."
Reyes nods. "Okay. Show me where you were when you took the shot?" He points at a clump of bushes a few yards away, and she directs the newly-arrived CSU team to start photographing that area.
Once Keahi's been led away by two patrolmen, Danny asks Reyes, "Think it really was an accident?"
She shrugs. "He seems pretty remorseful, either way. But once we're done here, we'll talk to family and friends and check in with the lab. If there was a beef between them or if the forensic evidence doesn't add up, we'll dig deeper."
As they're documenting the scene - even with his borrowed shoes, Danny is glad that Reyes volunteers to follow the boar tracks through the mud - Max shows up for the body. Danny would've thought it funny to see the nerdy doctor out of his element, except that Max looks totally at home in the wilderness. Maybe he was a Boy Scout, in between dissecting dead animals or whatever an aspiring M.E. does for kicks.
Danny shakes his head slightly, while Reyes has her back turned, and Max taps the side of his nose in a conspiratorial fashion. So when she makes the introductions, they both pretend not to have met before.
It goes against Danny's nature to keep things from a partner: Chris, his partner of five years back in Newark, was his best friend and knew all his secrets. But being Jack McGarrett's son isn't entirely Danny's secret to tell. He could give Reyes the story about Jack being an old family friend, maybe, and admit that he's already met Steve. He's not the world's best liar, but hopefully he could talk about Steve without giving anything shameful away.
Reyes is smart and perceptive, though, and Danny bets she's persistent as hell. And as so many criminals have discovered, telling a detective only part of the truth tends to bite you in the ass eventually.
***
By the end of the day, Danny's worn out.
He and Reyes notified Mikala Campbell's parents, first of all, a duty that never gets any easier no matter how often Danny does it. Despite their shock and grief, the couple swore that Joseph Keahi was one of their son's best friends and had no reason to kill him. Several of the vic's other buddies said pretty much the same thing; some had hunted with Campbell before, and agreed that he really was stealthy as hell when tracking his prey.
Then the two of them formally interviewed Keahi down at the precinct, getting a detailed account of his actions before and after firing the fatal shot. He was eaten up with guilt, but vehemently denied that he'd wanted Campbell dead.
Reyes seems satisfied that it was a genuine accident, unless CSU and Max say otherwise, and Danny's inclined to agree. As Keahi has a clean record and was hunting in accordance with state regulations, it seems that the DA will either charge him with involuntary manslaughter - and agree to a lenient sentence - or decide not to prosecute at all.
It's nearly 7pm when they finish up. "Good thing my husband works a steady nine-to-five job and likes cooking," Reyes tells Danny on the way out. "The kids would eat take-out every second night, otherwise."
He just nods, uncomfortably reminded of all the times he made similar comments during his marriage. He'd relied on Rachel to fix dinner and keep the household running, even after she went back to work full-time. When she became increasingly stressed and unhappy, Danny had made an extra effort to come home early and do more of the chores. But it was already too late...the rot had set in.
Danny says goodnight to Reyes, and drives home lost in bitter memories. He's still angry at Rach, for many reasons, but in retrospect it's clear that he failed her in key ways as well. Even if their marriage is dead and buried, he's learned some important lessons for future relationships.
His stomach rumbles as he walks into his apartment. Though he got better at cooking after the separation, out of necessity, Danny's been in Hawaii six days now and still hasn't made a single meal. The kitchen stuff he shipped from Jersey is somewhere among the unopened boxes taking up most of the limited floor space, and he hasn't gone shopping yet to replace what he left behind.
In the meantime, Danny has the local Yellow Pages open on the kitchen counter. He's trying every pizza joint listed, in alphabetical order, and making notes as he goes. So far he hasn't been too impressed, but he's determined to find a decent slice uncontaminated by goddamn pineapple.
While he's waiting for tonight's delivery, Danny carries on with his unpacking. He'd probably keep living out of a suitcase indefinitely, if it was just him, but he has Grace to think of. Though this crappy little apartment will never compare with Stan and Rachel's mansion, he can at least make it a functioning second home for his daughter.
Grace had spent this past weekend with him, a joyous reunion after nearly three months apart, so getting her bedroom ready had been his top priority. It's the rest of the place that's in a state of chaos. But Danny had declared the living room to be a forest of cardboard trees, and let Grace decorate them with Magic Markers to her heart's content.
Now Danny cuts the best drawings out of each carton he empties, and sticks them to the almost-empty refrigerator door. He'd left his old collection of Grace's artwork with Ma and Pop, except for a few extra-special ones that were among the first things he unpacked Thursday night.
His pizza arrives at last - he'd rate it 'not awful', which beats out Sunday night's 'cheese-coated cardboard' - and he washes it down with beer. Yet again, Danny finds his thoughts straying to Steve. What's his favorite kind of beer, and what does he like on his pizza? What is he eating tonight, and is he eating alone?
He wants to know every little thing about Steve, yeah, but there's one question Danny wants answered most of all. If Steve felt the same kind of instant attraction that Danny did, then how the hell are the two of them going to cope with being half-brothers?
Danny keeps unpacking until he's swaying with tiredness, then collapses onto the small lumpy couch that came with the apartment. He's got to buy something better, ASAP, for the sake of his back; it'll have to be a sofa-bed, though, since there's no space in here for a real bed. He'll ask Reyes to recommend a furniture store tomorrow.
Normally Danny falls asleep with the TV on - infomercials provide the best kind of lullaby - but he didn't ship his crappy old set out here and hasn't got a new one yet. He has a clock radio, though, so he lets the soothing sounds of the local NPR station wash over him.
He just hopes he's exhausted enough not to have any more disturbing dreams.
***
Note: Kaleo calls Danny a pilau haole - a literal translation might be 'stinking mainlander', but its effective meaning seems to be closer to 'fucking whitey'. If I've interpreted this incorrectly, please do let me know.
Chapter 3