Fic: Ending one minute at a time (part 1/2), H50, Steve/Danny, NC-17
Ending one minute at a time (part 1).
Please read the master post for the full header and warnings, if needed.
There's a faint background noise that gets louder and louder as Steve struggles with consciousness. The second sensation to make itself known is a deep throbbing pain in his head and, fuck, it's bad. He must wince because the noise has rearranged itself into Danny's voice, urging him on.
"Come on, come on Steve! That's it, yeah, are you with me buddy?"
As Steve gets his bearings a little bit, he realizes that his head is resting on a strong thigh and that fingers are softly going though his hair, touching his face in light caresses. That and the fact that Danny sounds scared makes Steve believe whatever happened was pretty bad. He tries to remember... they were in a warehouse? Danny will know, so Steve starts to open his eyes, but it's hard, it's like the world wants to vanish again.
"Oh, hey, is that you waking up?" Danny shakes him a little and Steve does a sound of protest from deep in his throat. It hurts his head, god, the shaking and the talking.
"Shutup," Steve manages to slur.
It makes Danny chuckle.
"See, was that so hard? Shit, Steve, I’ve never been so glad that you're so hardheaded. I thought they had brained you and that you were in a coma, you fucker. Never scare me like that again."
"What in shut up don't you understand?" Steve says as he finally opens his eyes, and yep, he's being cradled in Danny's lap, who's grinning down at him with relief.
"If annoying you is the price so you don't die, I'll gladly pay it."
"My head hurts." Steve might be whining a bit, but it is bad. At least he's not really nauseous, just woozy.
"No shit, Sherlock," Danny says, looking worried and his face comes so close Steve is almost startled. "Your pupils look equal at least, you freak. I'm starting to think you're made of rubber like those super balls."
"Was I out long?"
"It depends on what time it is, but I came to at least 30 minutes ago myself. You pussy."
Steve notices the bruise on Danny's jaw and reaches to touch it lightly. Shit. So they'd beaten him unconscious too and the strong anger at that makes Steve's head clear up almost completely. No one touches his Team, no one touches Danny and gets away with it unpunished.
"I'm okay," Danny says, soothing, probably reading everything on his face. "Now if you're done napping, maybe we could see how we could get out of this cage? No pressure or anything."
A cage? It's proof that he got hit real hard over the head or that civilian life is making him lapse that the only thing Steve has done since coming to was to focus on Danny. A quick look around shows that the cage is about ten by six, and maybe seven feet high, with bars as the top, too. The wall at Danny's back and the ground are rough concrete. On each side are other cages seemingly in a row and to his left Steve makes eye contact with a huge Rottweiler with an ear in shreds, watching them warily, and who growls low in his throat at the attention.
"I've named him Bob," Danny says. "And yes, it seems we're in a fucking kennel."
Bob's growling sets the dog in the next cage barking, which serves in turn as a catalyst for every dog in the place losing their shit. The sound, echoing in the room, makes Steve's head hurt so much it's like it's going to split in two and he clamps his hands on his ears and curls on his side, trying not to let slip the pathetic whimpers he wants to make. After breathing deeply a couple of times Steve realizes his face is practically mashed to Danny's groin, who's carding his fingers in Steve's hair again. Okay, so that could be awkward and since the dogs seem to have mostly shut up, Steve rolls again and slowly takes his hands off his head; he can handle this, there's maybe three dogs still barking.
"Hurts bad, huh?" Danny brushes hair off Steve's forehead, who wonders why touches like that feel so normal, expected even. He's been close to men in his units before, but it was nothing like this. But again, everything that has to do with Danny throws Steve for a loop and has from day one.
"Yeah," Steve admits.
"I'm fresh out of analgesics, sorry," Danny says, but he starts rubbing at Steve's temples. "Does this help?"
It really does so Steve nods, "It's good, real good."
"Behold the patented Williams magic fingers," Danny says with a chuckle, starting a scalp massage. It hurts when he touches the back of Steve's head where he's been hit, but overall it's bone-melting good and Steve dares to relax into it, closing his eyes and willing the pain away.
"When I woke up, I played dead and tried to listen to the guys in the truck but they didn't give away where we were going. I had a filthy rag over my head, so I couldn't see either, but the road was rough, definitely dirt. We were dragged and dumped in here, and I haven't seen anyone since."
"How many men?" Steve asks.
"Again, I had that rag, so I'm not sure. Definitely two taking me in, two dragging your sorry ass and at least three other voices. I'd say we're in a camp of some sort because there are vehicles outside sometimes. The lock on the door is sturdy, the bars too."
It's time he has a look, so Steve reluctantly lifts his head from Danny's thigh and slowly sits up. His head still hurts, but it's a little better. Danny has a hand on his back to keep him steady and Steve uses the touch to ground himself.
"You think you're gonna live?" Danny asks.
"You won't get rid of me that easily."
Danny snorts and Steve gets to his feet, reassured he's steady and that there's no nausea. Bob the dog starts growling again, but thankfully the others stay put this time. The bars are three-quarters of an inch iron rods, solidly set in the concrete and spaced three inches apart, with welded transverse bars every two feet. The door is the same, with exterior closed hinges, the lock is definitely sturdy, and there's absolutely nothing that has any give when Steve tries to shake it.
"So, can you MacGyver us out?"
The best would be to have something to work on the lock or on the hinges, but they've been searched. Steve finds nothing, not even a paperclip, in his pockets - not that it would have been enough anyway - and their watches and belts are gone.
"Doesn't look promising," Steve says, gripping the bars over his head and pulling with all of his strength, which gives absolutely nothing. "But I'll find a way."
"I'm sure you will," Danny says, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. "And even if you don't, Chin and Kono will find us."
Steve smiles at Danny's confident tone. Yeah, there's that, too. Chin and Kono won't stop searching until they're free. Steve takes in Danny's dirty clothes and drawn features: he looks as exhausted as Steve feels. Maybe taking a little nap is the best thing to do right now, so Steve goes to sit close enough to bump shoulders with Danny (he'd prefer resting on his lap again, but Steve tries to contain those impulses the best he can and not blur the lines between them even more than they are). He can feel Danny leaning on him a little and that, more than anything, makes Steve feel better. He always complains, but Danny trusts him, with his life even. Steve will make sure to be worthy of that trust and get them out as soon as possible.
****
Danny and Steve got jumped and captured in a warehouse in Waikiki around 9 am, hours and hours ago, and the day now drags. After resting for a bit, Steve inspects the cage bar by bar under Bob's supervision, but doesn't find any weak spots. Danny gets unusually quiet as the day passes, staying put in a corner of the cage and barely needling Steve along, though he bitches at having to piss in the empty cage to their right, which doesn't help the smell in the place. The sun sets, and the shed they're in grows dark pretty fast.
There's a lot of movement outside, vehicles coming and going especially in the last hour or so, voices that drift to them with an occasional laugh. Danny tried crying out for help, but no one came. At one point a woman's voice had quieted just after a shout, proving she'd heard him, but nothing else happened. They don't see a soul, in fact, and Steve's thirsty, hungry and getting angrier. He can deal with being captive, but he's always hated the waiting game. That, out of everything, tells him that their captor is a force to reckon with. Someone cocky would have come to taunt them way earlier.
But as Steve's grandma used to say, all things come to those who wait, because a couple of hours after sunset the door finally opens, which gets the dogs barking again. It's a young guy with a kibble pouch over his shoulder, and who doesn't even look their way even after he switches on the meek fluorescent lights scattered on the ceiling.
"Hey, you!" Danny's on his feet now and he shouts at the guy. "Would it be too much to ask that you'd open this door?"
As expected, the young man doesn't answer or stop feeding the dogs, which consists in dumping kibbles through the bars.
"Come on!" Danny insists when the guy walks in front of them and stops for Bob, who's expressing friendly behavior for the first time since Steve's laid eyes on him, making happy little sounds and twisting his whole body in the attempt to waggle his tiny tail as much as he can. "I'll make it worth your while."
Obviously the kid has orders to not even engage them because he plays deaf, moving along.
"Great, that's just great!" Danny says, throwing his hands in the air. "What about us? Do we get fed anytime soon? The service truly sucks in this joint!"
The boy finishes his round and hurries for the door, and that make Danny furious. He kicks the cage's door, hard, and he's going to hurt himself if he continues like that.
"Danny..." Steve says, trying to calm him with a hand on his shoulder. Danny turns on him so fast Steve takes a step back.
"Don't Danny me, okay?" He's almost snarling. "You might be trained for this, but I take being taken prisoner very badly, if you didn't notice. If it was just you and me, okay, fine, not my favorite way to spend the day but I'll live. But what about Grace, huh? I was supposed to get her after classes today. I sure hope she wasn't left waiting on the school steps for me, that no one took her and that she's home safe." Danny doesn't even let Steve put a word in as he continues, sounding more and more distressed. "And if she is, safely home, do you think someone told her I'm missing yet? That her dad was taken by bad guys, but hey, he might come back or not, it depends. Rachel is going to kill me for worrying her like that, mark my words."
Steve lets him rant and it's no wonder Danny's been so subdued, if he was bottling it all up. He might bitch and rant about everything under the sun, but Steve has learned that Danny's usually discreet with the stuff that really bothers him until he explodes from too much emotion.
"You know she's okay," Steve says, watching Danny who's now pacing right and left, hands in his hair. "Chin notified Rachel for sure when they couldn't reach us all day, you know that. We all know your custody schedule, Danny; no one would leave your little girl on the school's steps."
Danny doesn't answer but he visibly calms down a bit.
"I hate this."
Steve's about to say he hates it just as much when the door opens again. Four thugs with AK-47's precede a skinny man in a linen suit who surveys the room and smirks when his gaze stops on their cage. It's Ben Kigin, a big player in the import/export business who has a spotless record but who has been suspected of bringing more than rugs and foreign crafts into Hawaii for years. Up until now, HPD and Five-0 had found absolutely no evidence that linked him to arms, drugs or anything illegal. Steve and Danny were having a look at one of his warehouses that morning on a spur-of-the-moment-we're-in-the-neighborhood kind of way, trying to spot at least some employees with shady records, when they were jumped from behind and promptly knocked out. That Kigin is showing his face right now doesn't bode well for their odds of survival; Danny knows it too and forces a smile.
"Look, Steven, an upstanding citizen has heard our cries for help and is here to free us. We'll be eternally grateful, Mister Kigin."
Kigin laughs, pointing at Danny.
"You're funny! I like that. How are you tonight, gentlemen?"
"Peachy," Danny says, though Steve just stares, waiting to see what is up. "I'd prefer walking out, but eh."
With a circular motion Kigin encompasses the shed and cages.
"Do you like the place? It's a little crude, but it's where I keep my special pets."
Unsurprisingly, Danny reacts strongly to that one.
"Pet? I've been called a pig or even a dog before, a bull on occasion, it comes with the job, but a pet?"
Kigin's smile is all teeth.
"That's exactly it. I intend to keep you as long as I feel like it." After a pause and a shrug, Kigin adds, "and when that stops being fun..." The outcome seems none of his concern and Steve interprets the words as the death sentence they probably are.
"Yeah, then what? We get a bullet to the head?" Danny says, miming it. "We suspected you were a weasel and a crook, Kigin, not a kidnapper and a murderer."
"I don't have to be," Kigin says with a smile. "Be good little pets and everything is going to be fine."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Danny's tone is climbing again, which makes Kigin smile wider. He enjoys riling Danny up - honestly, Steve understands the impulse - and it could become a problem.
"All in time, Detective Williams." Kigin touches one of his goons' arms. "Slim, cuff McGarrett and bring him to my office. Remember what I said."
"Yes, Sir," Slim - who's three hundred pounds at least - says, taking a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket and passing his AK-47 to one of his friends.
Kigin leaves with one of his men and the others take position around the cage, far enough from each other that Steve knows he could maybe take one out with a little momentum but not both of them. They take off their safeties and aim as Slim dangles the handcuffs.
"Turn around, McGarrett, hands clasped behind your back and stay near the bars. Shorty goes face against the wall, hands where I can see them. One of you tries something, we shoot the other. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," Steve says, getting into position. He won't risk Danny's life unnecessarily, and anyway for now what's important is to know exactly what they are up against. Danny sighs loudly.
"How wonderful," he grumbles, leaning against the wall as if he's about to get searched.
Slim clamps the cuffs real tight around Steve's wrists, enough that even taking his thumbs out of their sockets wouldn't be enough to get free. Only then does Slim get the key.
"You're going to come nice and easy, or we shoot him. Bill's staying here, on the radio. You even make a twitch that looks like you're trying to escape and he's dead. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah, come on already," Steve says, getting frustrated. Slim puts a smelly burlap sack over his head as soon as he's out of the cage, and then Steve hears the door getting closed and locked again. It's just his luck that they got caught by someone with a brain who knows exactly where to put pressure and with henchmen that for the moment play by the book as the perfect hostage takers, so Steve obeys, at least for now. Steve's only hope is that they'll get complacent after a while, sloppy. He'll find an opening, eventually.
He's being marched to the door, the muzzle of a rifle between his shoulder blades when Danny cries out.
"Don't try something stupid out there! You hear me, Steve?"
"Don't worry," Steve says. "I'll be right back."
****
The walk to Ben Kigin's supposed office takes less than six minutes, where Slim stays close and the other goon not that far behind. Halfway there, barely muffled rock music starts to play, the bass line echoing in the night. When they enter some kind of structure, the music is as loud as at a nightclub and there's the unmistakable sound of a group of people, too. Steve's ordered to climb some stairs, twenty of them, before another door closes behind him and his escort, muffling the music once more.
"Oh, there you are!" It's Kigin's voice, sounding pleased. "Just in time, too. My guests are getting impatient for the show to start."
Steve has no idea what he's talking about until the burlap sack is taken off his head. He's standing in front of a window, overlooking the main room below. Spotlights are trained on a mixed martial arts octagon cage, with a crowd of maybe fifty all around, mostly men but with a fair share of women, laughing and mingling with drinks in their hands. There are almost nude exotic dancers in - oh, surprise! - even more cages, contorting to the music. At first glance Steve makes out at least ten men on security duty, heavily armed.
"I can't wait to throw you in a jail cell," Steve says. "You'll feel right at home."
Kigin laughs.
"Oh, the good Commander has a sense of humor, too! I thought that was your partner's department."
"What do you want, Kigin?" Steve asks, turning his back to the window. Slim and his friend are watchful and Kigin is out of reach, on the other side of a big desk. Maybe it's really his office, for all of those operations they've been trying so hard to find evidence of. Steve would bet his paycheck that there is enough to convict Kigin right there in the stacks of paper grouped in neat little piles.
"That's simple. If you entertain me, you and your partner live. So you're going to go down there in the octagon and fight for my guests."
Fight? Steve frowns, wondering what game he's playing. "What?"
"It isn't hard to understand! You fight, you live to see another day. You lose, you die. Williams dies too. End of story. Go now," Kigin gestures at his guard who points his AK-47 at Steve, then the door.
The death threats could only be bluff... but Steve can't take the chance, not while Danny is at risk. With Slim still checking his every move, Steve goes down the stairs, trying to gather as much info as possible. There's a little hallway, and through it he's taken near a door where, on the other side, the music - heavy metal now - gets impossibly louder. When the door opens, Steve is half blinded by powerful spots trained on him, and he stumbles when Slim shoves him forward roughly. He's being led through a passageway made of chicken mesh that links the door to the octagon, still cuffed, and the audience is screaming; those close enough are hitting on the fence, looking demented for the most part. It's frankly surreal and as Steve walks towards the opened octagon door while being yelled obscenities at, he wonders if the fenced passage is to protect the guests or the fighters. There's no use for Steve to try and get someone to help: everyone can see he's cuffed and held at gunpoint; if there's someone with a conscience in the joint, maybe HPD will get an anonymous tip later (he won't count on it, though).
Slim closes the octagon's cage door once Steve's in, and then wiggles the handcuff keys. Steve puts his back to the door while they are taken off, and Slim has to yell to be understood.
"The fight is to the death."
Steve whips around and grabs the bars. He can't be serious.
"Death?"
A nod from Slim. "If the winner doesn't kill, he gets shot. Only one person makes it out alive."
It's fucked up, but Steve's heard of underground fighting rings like this, where people get off seeing death in motion and are ready to pay the big price to attend.
The noise level that had abated picks back up and Steve rolls his shoulders and wonders for a second if he should lose the shirt; his opponent is now coming through his own fence passageway on the other side of the octagon. The guy seems to be there of his own free will, in boxing shorts, taped hands high in the air and a big grin on his face as the little crowd urges him on. He's well built, maybe a bit taller than Steve, but thinner too, muscles like whip cords; the most distinctive thing about him are the tattoos all over his body, including snakes creeping up his neck and ending on the edge of his jaw, with other small ones coming out of his ears. As he enters the octagon, Tattoo Guy sneers at Steve and makes a cutthroat movement, which seems appreciated by the spectators.
There's no referee in the cage, so the fight starts when Tattoo Guy just hurls himself at Steve, who quite easily manages to throw him aside, using his momentum, and makes him roll on the floor. Tattoo Guy gets back to his feet looking furious, obviously humiliated, and his anger is a point in Steve's favor. He's always been good at hand to hand, but Steve's dehydrated and hungry, his headache has picked up because of the noise and he’s definitely not at his best for this. Tattoo Guy is throwing punches intending to hurt, nothing fair, and Steve lets the training take over, reacting and lashing back. The music, crowd and fight make adrenaline kick in and Steve gets tired of the nonsense pretty fast. He doesn't want to give a show, he just wants to get out of there and make sure Danny's still okay, so when he has enough data on Tattoo's defenses Steve goes all in. A roundhouse kick brings the guy down hard and Steve's on him with a choke-hold right after. Tattoo tries to buck him off, desperate, but he's not going anywhere and Steve holds position as the struggling weakens. When Tattoo Guy falls unconscious, Steve's about to let go when he raises his eyes and sees Slim pointing the AK his way.
Right. Kill or be killed. Kill or get Danny killed. Steve holds on.
***
The burlap sack reappears for the trek back to the kennel, with Steve's hands cuffed behind his back again. He's got proof Danny's still there even before entering the shed.
"No, seriously, what's going on out there, Bill? Oh, I know! A dance party! Is that it? Give me a bone here!"
"He doesn't seem to get the joke, Danny," Steve says as he's pushed inside. "Too subtle for his tiny brain, obviously."
"Well duh!" Danny says, but he sounds less on edge. "So they've brought you back, after all. I wondered."
"Up against the wall again, Cop," Slim orders. Steve's steered inside the kennel cage before the door clanks shut and it's locked once again. Only then is the burlap taken off, then the cuffs, before Slim and friends leave. Danny's by his side in seconds, checking him over, especially the new bruise on his jaw where Tattoo Guy managed a decent right hook.
"What did Kigin want? He tried to beat some info out of you? Or does he get off watching people get hit?" Danny asks.
Trust Danny to guess the man's main motivation that fast.
"The latter. He has his own octagon, made me fight," Steve says.
Danny shakes his head and makes a disapproving sound.
"Lame. I suppose you kicked the other guy's ass?" he says with utmost confidence, going to the corner of the cell.
It's true, but it's not like Steve's proud of what he's done. That he killed a man, a civilian, on the order of a criminal is just starting to register.
"Yeah."
"That's my boy," Danny says, coming back with a bottle of water and one of those disgusting pre-packed sandwiches you generally find at gas stations. "Here. We finally had room service."
Steve cracks the bottle open and takes several gulps before realizing it's their only one and giving it back to Danny.
"Why didn't you take any?"
Danny shrugs, drinks a bit.
"I could wait. Ready to risk salmonella?" he says, wiggling the sandwich.
"Not yet, you go ahead."
"Smart. Then you'll see if I keel over first." Danny takes a tentative bite, chews with his serious face on, then hums and devours the rest in almost no time at all. Steve can't help but snort with amusement to see his cheeks stuffed like a squirrel.
"Not so bad, then?"
Danny gestures while shaking his head and takes a gulp of water before he's able to talk.
"You'd be wrong, there, it's absolutely terrible. But it's food and I'm famished, so it will have to do."
The other half of the sandwich is shoved in his hands and Steve is tempted to tell Danny to go ahead and eat it but he'd refuse. He drinks a bit more water instead and goes to sit against the wall and puts the food beside him for later, maybe. Now that the adrenaline is coming down, Steve knows he's going to crash soon.
"I guess there's nothing much to do now but wait and see," Danny says.
That's exactly it so Steve tips his head against the cement wall and closes his eyes. His mind is reeling, playing over and over the sensation of choking that guy to death and he needs to shove it down and not think about it at all until they are out of this mess. Danny sits next to him, close enough that Steve feels his body heat.
"I'm sure Chin and Kono will be here soon, anyway," Danny says, making it sound like a promise.
***
Their second day in the kennel isn't any more entertaining than the first, far from it. Steve knows they're trapped, for now, with nothing to work on the bars or the cement holding them. Danny is a bit less subdued than he was the day before, but he's still moody and Steve asks him stupid questions about New Jersey just to make him react a bit. His most creative to date was finally using facts from that website on stupid laws in the Garden State - he'd been hoarding those for the perfect moment - which prompted a 20 minute rant on how ridiculous it was to even check those things. Not nearly as much as "You may not throw a bad pickle in the street" from the city of Trenton, if you asked Steve.
The guy who takes care of the dogs comes in the afternoon to roughly clean the cages by spraying the floor with a hose. He acts as if he's deaf, unmoved by Danny's attempts to have him help.
"I hope you realize you are a minnow in Kigin's food chain, kid. From what I see, you're just doing your job but you could do so much better than here. Help us go, or, if you can't do that, which I can understand what with the guys with guns all around, then just let someone know that we're here and I swear, I swear I'll find you a job that is better than cleaning dog shit."
Steve knows it won't change anything, but if it makes Danny feel better to try... so be it. Once the guy is gone, the place smells a bit better but it's still a long way from being decent. Danny slumps back against the wall, hands gripping his hair and Steve hates seeing him like that.
"Kigin is trying to break us," Steve unhelpfully says.
Danny scoffs. "You think I don't know that?"
"Then don't let him win. You've got to trust we'll get out, you've got to believe everything is going to be okay," Steve urges.
That earns him a half smile. "You're sure of that, aren't you?"
"You aren't?" Steve counters.
Danny squares his shoulders a bit, takes a big breath.
"Of course. We're going to be fine. It's just... I don't like small spaces all that much. Not being able to move. It's getting to me, I'll admit that."
It makes sense, with all the space Danny takes up with his personality and constant movement. Steve hums. "You must really hate your apartment, then," he deadpans.
Danny laughs, genuine for a moment and the bad joke earns Steve a sharp hit to the arm. He protests, making a show of rubbing the spot but he can't stop grinning.
***
At about the same time as the day before, the guy on dog maintenance brings back the kibble and the kennel explodes with barks from the hungry dogs.
"What's your name, kid?" Danny asks, though he gets no answer. "Okay, fine, be like that. I'm gonna call you Johnny. Is that to your liking?"
"He does look like a Johnny," Steve agrees.
"Thank you, Steven. It warms my heart that we agree on such important issues."
Johnny doesn't react one way or another, but he passes right by Bob without feeding him, which causes some pathetic whining from the big Rott.
"Hey, that's not fair. What did Bob do?" Danny protests on his behalf.
Once he's done feeding the mutts, Johnny puts away the kibble pouch and comes back with a leash. Bob is jumping near the door, anticipating that he's about to get out.
"Shit, you have keys?" Danny says when Johnny gets Bob out, fastening the leash first. "Come on, man, leave ours here. We'll wait 'til you're gone to make a break."
Of course it doesn't work. Johnny heads out of the shed with a bounding Bob and Danny's back at hitting the bars in frustration. Steve's keeping an ear out and just as he thought there are more and more cars driving by, the sound of doors being closed and laughter drifting to them. It can only mean one thing and Steve starts pacing, or he tries anyway. He can barely take two steps before he has to turn around.
"What's gotten into you, all of a sudden?" Danny asks. "You've been annoyingly calm and composed all day, getting on my last nerve, I'll have you know, and now you decide to make the best impression ever of a tiger at the zoo?"
"He's going to have me fight someone again," Steve says.
Will have him kill again, he doesn't say. But no, no, Steve's thought of it all day and he won't do it. He might be beaten to a pulp for it, but it will be worth it. There's barely any chance that Kigin would kill them, not right now when they've just been captured. Kigin is not tired of playing with them yet.
"Oh. That's actually quite probable," Danny says, and right on cue the door opens and it's Slim and friends. Still armed, still cautious and Steve will play along for that part, will let himself be cuffed and go with them to take the threat further away from Danny. He's got the burlap sack over his head once more and is heading through the door when Danny shouts out.
"Don't you dare get hurt, McGarrett!"
"I'll be right back, Danno," Steve says, perfectly aware it's the same thing he said the day before. And he will, though he doesn't know in what condition he'll be.
***
Going up the stairs, Steve hears shouts and whistles through the music and figures that there are other fights before him. Or maybe he gets a day off, who knows how Kigin's mind works. When he can see again, Steve's by the window once more and Kigin is a couple of paces away watching down with rapt attention. Curious in spite of himself, Steve looks too and he really should not be surprised by what he sees. There's a fight in the octagon alright, but it's Bob and some pit-bull mix. Steve has always hated dog fights so he turns his back to the window.
"I won't kill, next time," Steve says.
Kigin shrugs.
"Then you'll get shot. To be honest, some of my guests love when that happens. It's funny how they get off so much on seeing someone die because he has principles."
It disgusts Steve, it doesn't amuse him at all.
"I won't kill," he repeats.
"Then you're no use to me, unless..." Kigin pauses, giving Steve an appreciative once over that makes his skin crawl. "There are other ways to make me happy," he continues, biting his lip, beady blue eyes suddenly lascivious.
Oh shit, no. Another mind game, until it's not.
"No," Steve spits out. "I'll take the bullet."
Kigin puts a hand over his heart with mock humor, but his eyes turn cold.
"You wound me, pet." He turns to Slim. "Have him fight, and shoot him if he doesn't do what he's got to do. Tomorrow night, bring me Williams."
Steve manages to stay stoic but his mind is rebelling at the mere idea of it. Chin and Kono just need a bit more time; they'll get to Danny first. Kigin knows he's scoring points, though, and has a cruel smile.
"I couldn't help but notice what a nice ass he has."
It's totally involuntary but Steve snarls and he leaps towards Kigin, before being yanked backwards by one of the goons who has grabbed the chain between the cuffs and holds strong as Steve struggles to go forward. It's satisfying to see the flash of fear in Kigin's eyes for a moment, but he rapidly laughs it off. Slim yells for him to calm down and Steve only does when he has the cold muzzle of an AK at the base of his neck.
"Did I hit a nerve? I've had you observed, Commander, before all of this, and I'm reasonably sure that you'd hate anyone but you touching that pert ass, hmmm?"
"You fucking scumbag!" Steve hisses, stomach churning because yes, that's true, he's been desperately crushing on Danny for a good long while but it's supposed to be his secret, not something to exploit by a lowlife like Ben Kigin. "I'll fight, I'll do it, but if you even touch one hair on Danny's head, I'll rip your intestines out by your throat, I swear to god."
He's saying too much, making both Danny and himself vulnerable and he should play it cool, but Steve can't help it. Kigin rolls his eyes.
"Yeah yeah. I'll make you a deal: you do what is asked and Williams stays put in his cage. How about that?" Kigin dares to make a look-at-how-nice-I-am face, offering that as a favor.
"Fine," Steve says, finally calming down though his blood is still pumping. He doesn't trust Kigin as far as he can throw him, but the immediate threat seems gone.
"Bring him down," Kigin says.
Even knowing what to expect, walking through the corridor to the octagon still feels surreal with the commotion the so-called guests cause. The plywood floor of the octagon has been hosed down and is still wet, and Steve tests how slippery it is with his boot. Slim frees him of the cuffs and this time Steve decides to take his shirt off, which will lower the risks of being grabbed by his opponent. As he strips he gets wolf whistled, although the focus of the crowd's attention shifts to the other guy who's being led to the cage while Steve passes his shirt and t-shirt through the fence back at Slim.
The guy looks like a bulldog, compact and with strong shoulders, and he's definitely not showing off like the first, he means business. When the doors are closed and it's only the two of them, idiots of the crowd looking on notwithstanding, the man extends his fist for a knuckle brush, a show of respect reflected in dark brown eyes; a "may the best man win" without words. It makes Steve curse the situation some more because he doesn't want to kill him, doesn't want to think that this man maybe has a family and kids at home.
The first - hard, so hard - punch forces Steve to get his head in the game, though; he doesn't want to lose. Losing means dying here, but more than that it means Kigin will get to Danny next and that can't happen. Training kicks in once more and the opening comes, at last, for Steve to hit the guys with the heel of his hand, up and hard on the nose, one of the many ways he's been taught to incapacitate and maim. The crowd gasps and then cheers wildly when Steve's opponent crumbles to the ground. Panting, Steve crouches by his side, checks for a pulse that isn't there and closes the man's eyes with a whispered apology.
His job is done for the night, Steve thinks with a touch of hysterics, and he goes to stand obediently near the door to be cuffed again.
***
The guests are starting to arrive, that much is clear with the sounds outside and the fact it's been dark for a while; Steve tries the best he can to block it all out, to stay in his head. He has killed before this, men he'd been pointed towards as a weapon and he never questioned it, always trusted it was the right thing to do, that his superiors had good reasons for asking this of him. He's taken down many perps doing his job with Five-0, even, and never lost any sleep over it. There are so many deaths Steve will have to answer for some day, so it should be just a couple more that he doesn't know how to avoid. It's not that simple, though. Steve's been taught to put distress and pain in little boxes, sealed tight and buried deep down until it's time to deal with them. He does his best at the moment, and wonders if it will be enough.
"You're awfully quiet," Danny says and Steve opens his eyes, look sideways at him. They're sitting with their backs to the wall and Danny has a hand through the bars in Bob's cage, petting his head. They've been friends since Bob came back from his own fight with a bad leg and Danny shared his food in sympathy. For a moment Steve is jealous of the attention the dog is getting and that makes him hit his head against the wall, not his best idea with the residual pain that still lingers. What the fuck is wrong with him?
"I don't want to go." His voice is rusty, and Steve realizes that he didn't hold his end of the conversations today, letting Danny fill the silence.
"If it's any consolation, I don't want you to go either. I can hear them, you know, yelling through the music."
"They're so fucking loud." They watch so closely, too, giddy to see him lose pieces of his soul.
Slim enters the shed and Steve springs to his feet. He can't avoid the fights, but he can get through them as fast as he can. He goes with his back to the door and Danny frowns, upset with something, before getting in position too.
"That's it, Dog," Slim says, as always flanked with his two armed buddies, who are still too careful so there's no chance to escape. "Good boy."
Steve grits his teeth and Danny curses.
"You son of a bitch. He's an ass, Steve. Don't let him get to you."
"It's okay," Steve says as the burlap sack is put on his head. "See you later."
As he's pushed outside towards the building with the ring Steve counts his steps, and it seems that Slim and company don't find tripping him as amusing as they used to because it takes a good twenty steps less than the night before, practically in a straight line, to get there. Once inside, Steve stops: he won't go up to Kigin's office.
"Bring me to the cage," he says and he's surprised when he's led toward the corridor without protests.
"The boss is busy anyways, come on."
Steve gets his shirt off when he's in the octagon and instead of avoiding the eyes of the spectators, he tries to commit their faces to memory. When they get out, because they will get out, Steve is going to find those motherfuckers and shit will hit the fan. It disgusts him to see so many women with diamonds and men with five thousand dollar suits, rich and blasé enough to find their thrill through violence and live deaths. He's being scrutinized right back and his scowl doesn't seem a deterrent at all, judging by the way he's leered at.
What is for sure is that Steve will do what he has to do as fast as he can and leave them on their appetite. Rolling his shoulders and neck, Steve tries to get in the right head space, if such a thing exists, hands gripped in the mesh as he waits for the bout to start. All of his mental conditioning is derailed when he hears the other door close and turns to sees the fighter now with him in the cage: it's a young Asian looking man, a kid, most probably not even twenty yet. Steve looks up at the window where he knows Kigin is and if his hate could be channeled in a laser beam, the freak would burn. The kid takes a couple of steps towards him and Steve yells over the music:
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
The young guy has a half smile, but the cockiness doesn't reach his eyes.
"I'm going to kill you, and get 25 grand for it," he says.
"Come on, you have no chance. I know that, he knows that," Steve says, pointing to the office. "Maybe we can convince them to let you go if neither of us fight."
Unfortunately, the kid doesn't want to hear reason and charges him, hits with all he has and it messes with Steve so much that it barely hurts. He doesn't even hit back, just protects himself and pleads with the kid to stop. It gives nothing and the crowd starts to boo, unsatisfied. Steve's backed against the mesh with his forearms over his face, and suddenly Slim is behind him, yelling right by his ear.
"Goddammit, McGarrett, fight back!"
"No."
He's going to be black and blue with bruises - because the boy might not hit hard enough to injure him badly but it stings none the less - but Steve can sustain this for hours without anyone dying; they'll grow bored and do a rematch with someone else. As long as the kid insists to hit him on the arms and body and doesn't wise up to hit him in the groin, the knees or other weaker parts, he's going to be fine.
"If you don't hit back, I have orders to shoot him in the gut," Slim says. "You know the rule, only one person gets out tonight. Or do you want the bullet?"
Steve is fucked either way, that much is clear. If he decides this is enough and dies to save this kid, then possibly Danny's going be brought to fight him the day after. Danny's not a killer, not like Steve, he could not cope with it and it would destroy him inside. Straightening up, Steve shoves the boy away to get a little bit of space to breathe. The crowd cheers and Steve wishes he could jump the fence and get up close and personal with a couple of those douche-bags, see if they'd like death so much on their husband or friends.
It isn't clear if the kid heard Slim at all, but he takes one look at Steve's face and there's panic in his eyes now. Steve waits for him to come close.
"I'm sorry," Steve says and the kid's eyes widen. "This won't hurt, much."
Two seconds is all it takes to pull him close and snap his neck like a twig. Everything dulls after that, as if Steve hit a switch. The yelling is a muffled roar and he knows Slim is talking as he locks his cuffs, but Steve doesn't bother listening. He walks back out, stops for the hood, and he's almost out of his body, cataloging what is going on by rote. Outside there is a torrential downpour and the gun in his back urges him to hurry up. Steve almost slips in the mud more than once and the rain feels cool on his skin, which distantly makes him wonder what happened to his shirt.
Steve doesn't know if he can face Danny, almost asks to be put in one of the empty cages, but then Danny would bitch and demand an explanation Steve never wants to give. As soon as he's back in the cage and uncuffed, Danny is all over him.
"Shit," he breathes, fingers light on the bruises that are starting to form.
Steve takes the water bottle in the corner, takes a sip and wonders if he should feel sick right now. A normal person would probably puke in self-disgust. But no, he feels nothing, and frankly nothing is good right now. Maybe he'll be able to sleep.
"Did you hear anything I said? Steve!"
It seems Danny was talking, he'd zoned out. Steve answers mostly to get him off his back. "I'm fine."
Danny throws his hands in the air at that and Steve checks the arc of it, wonders if it can be put in an equation. There is surely a whole mathematical field that could be born of studying Danny.
"He's fine, he says!" Danny rants. "See, I don't buy that for one fucking second, okay? So stop lying and tell me what's going on."
"Everything is going to be okay." Even to his own ears it sounds flat and unconvincing. He sits down, closes his eyes and hopes for a moment that Danny is going to let this go. Wishful thinking, of course.
"Newsflash, things are not okay! They are so not okay right now, Steve! And I can't help if I don't know exactly what is going on, do you realize that? It kills me to see you revert to RoboSteve."
That, at last, makes Steve react and he opens his eyes to look at Danny, confused. "RoboSteve?"
"Yes, RoboSteve, the lean mean machine. I've worked hard all these months to loosen you up, help you interact more normally with the human race... You don't want to undo that, do you?"
Danny's holding his hands in supplication, and he's honestly distressed, which wakes a pang in Steve's chest that he squashes immediately.
"I'm just tired," Steve says, stretching his legs. "Don't worry."
Which is like asking Danny to please stop breathing, Steve is conscious of the difficulty. He's therefore not surprised when Danny insists, sitting cross-legged by his side, then taking hold of Steve's face to assure eye contact.
"What do you do out there, Steve?"
He'd push Danny away, but Steve finds himself unable to break the gaze. Danny's eyes are so very blue, clear. Not mucky like his.
"They generally take me to see Kigin, though not tonight, then to the octagon. I fight, I win, and I come straight back here."
Danny scrutinizes his face for a minute but shakes his head.
"You're lying."
"Am not," Steve says. It's the cold hard facts.
"Lying by omission, then. Spill, McGarrett. I can be patient when I want, and I'll get to the bottom of this."
So much intensity all the time... it gets a bit much. If he knows everything, Danny will back off and leave Steve with his welcome numbness.
"I'm not lying. I kill the other guy, I live another day. As simple as that. No sweat."
Danny blinks when the words register and he opens and closes his mouth a couple of times like a fish, eyes going round. That's it, it will work, and Steve waits for the surprise to morph into horror, into disgust. When it comes it looks more like anger, and yes, Steve's earned that, too. Danny gets up, goes to the front of the cage and tries to shake the bars.
"You bunch of sick fucks!" he yells. "I hope your stupid cars go over big cliffs, do you hear that?"
"It's raining," Steve supplies.
Danny turns to him and he's beet red, enraged. Not at him, Steve notes.
"What?"
"They can't hear you, because it's raining," he points out reasonably.
There's another shift in Danny's mood at that, anger quickly dropped for pity, or it looks like it. Normally it would sting, but not so much right now. Danny comes and crouches next to him.
"Jesus, Steve..." he says softly, cupping Steve's cheek. "I'm so sorry."
He looks like his heart is breaking and Steve doesn't want that.
"You've done nothing wrong."
"You did nothing wrong either," Danny counters, which is false.
"I killed them."
Danny huffs. "Did you want to? Was it fun?"
"Of course not."
"It was either that or they'd kill you?" Danny shouldn't try to justify it, but it's true.
"Yeah."
"Is that all? Because somehow, I think there's something missing here." Danny always sees too much.
Steve manages to look away, then, focuses on a bar. "Then they'd hurt you."
"Fuck!" Danny curses, letting go of Steve's face to put a hand on his shoulder. "That bastard. I can't wait to wring his skinny neck."
Steve flashes back to the kid, how easy it was to take the light out of his eyes. Steve hadn't looked back but most probably it had been as if he was sleeping; his casket could be open if the family wished for it. The thought makes him wonder if they gave the bodies back or if they conveniently disappeared. Steve hoped they did set the corpses to be found, it would help the families to get closure.
"Shit. Hey, hey, Steve! Don't you dare leave me here all alone, do you hear me?"
Danny's strange sometimes.
"I'm right here, Danno."
Instead of arguing further, Danny makes a choked sound and pulls him close, strong arms closing around Steve's shoulder, one hand on his neck.
"Oh, baby, god, I'm so sorry."
There's no harm in leaning into him, to close his arms around Danny too and to put his face in his neck, just for a moment. Danny's rubbing his back, whispering non-stop.
"I wish I knew what to do right now. Maybe you shutting down is for the best... Or, or I should help you snap out of it, but how the hell should I know? You put me in the most impossible situations, Steven J. McGarrett, as usual. But you and me, we're in this together, hear that? You don't have to protect me."
Of course Steve has to protect him, but right now Danny's solid, next to him, hot and real in his arms and it's like Steve thaws at his contact. He should pull back, keep the numbness but finds it impossible, so he holds even tighter.
"Dannydannydannydanny..." he murmurs, like a mantra.
"Shhhh, shhhhh," Danny soothes, rocking a little as if Steve is a frightened child and it's the tenderness in the gesture that makes the ice cover start to crack, the whole panel of it falling off.
"It was a kid, Danny, that last one," Steve confesses, though he's sorry to put that burden on Danny, too, who doesn't deserve it. "Just a boy who wanted some money."
"Fuck. I'm so sorry, that's not fair. Life's not fair." Danny holds him tighter.
"The one before, I scrambled his brain by hitting his nose... and, and the first I choked to death. It was easy, Danny, so easy."
Letting the words out hurts, and it leaves him with a gap inside. Steve now feels raw and skinned alive, the blessed numbness gone.
"Don't say that, shhh. You're a good person, Steve. You're the best. I hate that Kigin forced you to do that. He's the real killer, you did what you could. Don't let him and what he asks mess with you."
Steve wants to believe that so much, wants Danny to be sure for him, too. Now that he's feeling again, he also wants it to be something else than hurt, at least for a little bit. His usual defenses are shot and Steve can't resist: Danny's neck is right there against his face so it's easy to go with it and kiss him. Doing it just once is torture and Steve mostly expects Danny to shush him and pretend nothing happened, but no, he's pressing his own lips in a chaste kiss near Steve's ear.
"It's okay, I've got you," Danny says, palming the back of Steve's neck and squeezing a little.
He's offering comfort, his presence, but Steve wants so much more. He's dreamed of kissing Danny for so long, but never dared because it could be the end of everything and the risk was unacceptable. This is fucked up, but right now Steve knows that if Danny's going to turn him down, it will be gently and it won't be held against him. So Steve dares to kiss Danny's neck again, over his pulse point, and he feels it quicken against his lips. The temptation to sneak a hand under Danny's t-shirt is too strong, so Steve does it until he can touch skin that is as hot and soft as he's always imagined.
"Steve..." Danny's tone is unsure but not chastising, and he's not pulling away either so Steve drops tiny kisses going up Danny's neck, then on the underside of his jaw.
"Please," Steve whispers against the prickly three day stubble.
Danny swallows hard and when he cups Steve's jaw, there's a moment where he's terrified that Danny's going to push him away. But he only does so to tilt Steve's head a bit and then he's kissing him on the mouth, firm and sure. Steve whimpers, sure his heart won't resist long the way it's beating wildly in his rib cage, and he opens up at the brush of Danny's tongue on his lower lip. Their kisses become the center of Steve's universe, the only thing he wants to be thinking about, ignoring everything else forever, amen. Somehow he's now straddling Danny's thighs while he sits against the wall, both hands under his t-shirt, and if he could crawl up in Danny and lose himself in him, he'd do it. Danny's hands are roaming all over him, one sliding up his thighs then gripping his waist, the other one climbing up his spine and pulling Steve closer.
"Tell me what I can do," Danny demands. "What do you need?"
"Just be you," Steve says, diving for more kisses.
He knows he's kissing as if he's desperate - he is - as if he's drowning, but Steve can't help it, Danny's the only lifesaver in sight. He keens when Danny starts unfastening his cargo pants, and hurries to do the same, shoving his hand down Danny's boxers just as Danny makes a fist around Steve's dick. It's messy and fast, jolts of pleasure as they're reduced to panting into each other's mouth while jacking off.
Danny's eyes are closed, head thrown back against the wall, and Steve doesn't want this to ever end but he's just a couple of strokes away from coming, it's inevitable. Danny's eyes suddenly open and they're almost black, with only a tiny ring of blue all around, and that's what tips Steve over the edge: he comes with Danny's name on his lips, the world whiting out in a bolt of pleasure so strong it leaves him weak as a kitten afterward. He slumps forward and Danny catches him, then closes a hand over Steve's who somehow forgot he was in the middle of giving a hand job, too.
"Just, god, I..." Danny stutters and Steve manages to resume his strokes; it only takes a couple and Danny's groaning, going tense all over as he comes over Steve's hand.
They stay put for a couple of minutes, Steve's head on Danny's shoulder as he tries to get his heartbeat and his breathing under control. Danny has started caressing his back again in a steady rhythm, and somehow it's soothing enough to make Steve drowsy and maybe, just maybe he could sleep.
"Come on, lie down now," Danny nudges, manhandling him gently. Steve curls on the floor, his head on Danny's lap and an arm thrown across his legs since he's not ready to cut all contact yet. Strong fingers card in his hair, just like when he woke up days ago, and he takes a shaky breath, tries to focus on that alone.
The storm has gotten worse outside, rain pelting against the metal roof of the shed and making it awfully noisy in what sounds like a whooping thunderstorm. Without protest, Steve lets himself get pulled under the water until all goes black.
****
Part 2
Please read the master post for the full header and warnings, if needed.
There's a faint background noise that gets louder and louder as Steve struggles with consciousness. The second sensation to make itself known is a deep throbbing pain in his head and, fuck, it's bad. He must wince because the noise has rearranged itself into Danny's voice, urging him on.
"Come on, come on Steve! That's it, yeah, are you with me buddy?"
As Steve gets his bearings a little bit, he realizes that his head is resting on a strong thigh and that fingers are softly going though his hair, touching his face in light caresses. That and the fact that Danny sounds scared makes Steve believe whatever happened was pretty bad. He tries to remember... they were in a warehouse? Danny will know, so Steve starts to open his eyes, but it's hard, it's like the world wants to vanish again.
"Oh, hey, is that you waking up?" Danny shakes him a little and Steve does a sound of protest from deep in his throat. It hurts his head, god, the shaking and the talking.
"Shutup," Steve manages to slur.
It makes Danny chuckle.
"See, was that so hard? Shit, Steve, I’ve never been so glad that you're so hardheaded. I thought they had brained you and that you were in a coma, you fucker. Never scare me like that again."
"What in shut up don't you understand?" Steve says as he finally opens his eyes, and yep, he's being cradled in Danny's lap, who's grinning down at him with relief.
"If annoying you is the price so you don't die, I'll gladly pay it."
"My head hurts." Steve might be whining a bit, but it is bad. At least he's not really nauseous, just woozy.
"No shit, Sherlock," Danny says, looking worried and his face comes so close Steve is almost startled. "Your pupils look equal at least, you freak. I'm starting to think you're made of rubber like those super balls."
"Was I out long?"
"It depends on what time it is, but I came to at least 30 minutes ago myself. You pussy."
Steve notices the bruise on Danny's jaw and reaches to touch it lightly. Shit. So they'd beaten him unconscious too and the strong anger at that makes Steve's head clear up almost completely. No one touches his Team, no one touches Danny and gets away with it unpunished.
"I'm okay," Danny says, soothing, probably reading everything on his face. "Now if you're done napping, maybe we could see how we could get out of this cage? No pressure or anything."
A cage? It's proof that he got hit real hard over the head or that civilian life is making him lapse that the only thing Steve has done since coming to was to focus on Danny. A quick look around shows that the cage is about ten by six, and maybe seven feet high, with bars as the top, too. The wall at Danny's back and the ground are rough concrete. On each side are other cages seemingly in a row and to his left Steve makes eye contact with a huge Rottweiler with an ear in shreds, watching them warily, and who growls low in his throat at the attention.
"I've named him Bob," Danny says. "And yes, it seems we're in a fucking kennel."
Bob's growling sets the dog in the next cage barking, which serves in turn as a catalyst for every dog in the place losing their shit. The sound, echoing in the room, makes Steve's head hurt so much it's like it's going to split in two and he clamps his hands on his ears and curls on his side, trying not to let slip the pathetic whimpers he wants to make. After breathing deeply a couple of times Steve realizes his face is practically mashed to Danny's groin, who's carding his fingers in Steve's hair again. Okay, so that could be awkward and since the dogs seem to have mostly shut up, Steve rolls again and slowly takes his hands off his head; he can handle this, there's maybe three dogs still barking.
"Hurts bad, huh?" Danny brushes hair off Steve's forehead, who wonders why touches like that feel so normal, expected even. He's been close to men in his units before, but it was nothing like this. But again, everything that has to do with Danny throws Steve for a loop and has from day one.
"Yeah," Steve admits.
"I'm fresh out of analgesics, sorry," Danny says, but he starts rubbing at Steve's temples. "Does this help?"
It really does so Steve nods, "It's good, real good."
"Behold the patented Williams magic fingers," Danny says with a chuckle, starting a scalp massage. It hurts when he touches the back of Steve's head where he's been hit, but overall it's bone-melting good and Steve dares to relax into it, closing his eyes and willing the pain away.
"When I woke up, I played dead and tried to listen to the guys in the truck but they didn't give away where we were going. I had a filthy rag over my head, so I couldn't see either, but the road was rough, definitely dirt. We were dragged and dumped in here, and I haven't seen anyone since."
"How many men?" Steve asks.
"Again, I had that rag, so I'm not sure. Definitely two taking me in, two dragging your sorry ass and at least three other voices. I'd say we're in a camp of some sort because there are vehicles outside sometimes. The lock on the door is sturdy, the bars too."
It's time he has a look, so Steve reluctantly lifts his head from Danny's thigh and slowly sits up. His head still hurts, but it's a little better. Danny has a hand on his back to keep him steady and Steve uses the touch to ground himself.
"You think you're gonna live?" Danny asks.
"You won't get rid of me that easily."
Danny snorts and Steve gets to his feet, reassured he's steady and that there's no nausea. Bob the dog starts growling again, but thankfully the others stay put this time. The bars are three-quarters of an inch iron rods, solidly set in the concrete and spaced three inches apart, with welded transverse bars every two feet. The door is the same, with exterior closed hinges, the lock is definitely sturdy, and there's absolutely nothing that has any give when Steve tries to shake it.
"So, can you MacGyver us out?"
The best would be to have something to work on the lock or on the hinges, but they've been searched. Steve finds nothing, not even a paperclip, in his pockets - not that it would have been enough anyway - and their watches and belts are gone.
"Doesn't look promising," Steve says, gripping the bars over his head and pulling with all of his strength, which gives absolutely nothing. "But I'll find a way."
"I'm sure you will," Danny says, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. "And even if you don't, Chin and Kono will find us."
Steve smiles at Danny's confident tone. Yeah, there's that, too. Chin and Kono won't stop searching until they're free. Steve takes in Danny's dirty clothes and drawn features: he looks as exhausted as Steve feels. Maybe taking a little nap is the best thing to do right now, so Steve goes to sit close enough to bump shoulders with Danny (he'd prefer resting on his lap again, but Steve tries to contain those impulses the best he can and not blur the lines between them even more than they are). He can feel Danny leaning on him a little and that, more than anything, makes Steve feel better. He always complains, but Danny trusts him, with his life even. Steve will make sure to be worthy of that trust and get them out as soon as possible.
****
Danny and Steve got jumped and captured in a warehouse in Waikiki around 9 am, hours and hours ago, and the day now drags. After resting for a bit, Steve inspects the cage bar by bar under Bob's supervision, but doesn't find any weak spots. Danny gets unusually quiet as the day passes, staying put in a corner of the cage and barely needling Steve along, though he bitches at having to piss in the empty cage to their right, which doesn't help the smell in the place. The sun sets, and the shed they're in grows dark pretty fast.
There's a lot of movement outside, vehicles coming and going especially in the last hour or so, voices that drift to them with an occasional laugh. Danny tried crying out for help, but no one came. At one point a woman's voice had quieted just after a shout, proving she'd heard him, but nothing else happened. They don't see a soul, in fact, and Steve's thirsty, hungry and getting angrier. He can deal with being captive, but he's always hated the waiting game. That, out of everything, tells him that their captor is a force to reckon with. Someone cocky would have come to taunt them way earlier.
But as Steve's grandma used to say, all things come to those who wait, because a couple of hours after sunset the door finally opens, which gets the dogs barking again. It's a young guy with a kibble pouch over his shoulder, and who doesn't even look their way even after he switches on the meek fluorescent lights scattered on the ceiling.
"Hey, you!" Danny's on his feet now and he shouts at the guy. "Would it be too much to ask that you'd open this door?"
As expected, the young man doesn't answer or stop feeding the dogs, which consists in dumping kibbles through the bars.
"Come on!" Danny insists when the guy walks in front of them and stops for Bob, who's expressing friendly behavior for the first time since Steve's laid eyes on him, making happy little sounds and twisting his whole body in the attempt to waggle his tiny tail as much as he can. "I'll make it worth your while."
Obviously the kid has orders to not even engage them because he plays deaf, moving along.
"Great, that's just great!" Danny says, throwing his hands in the air. "What about us? Do we get fed anytime soon? The service truly sucks in this joint!"
The boy finishes his round and hurries for the door, and that make Danny furious. He kicks the cage's door, hard, and he's going to hurt himself if he continues like that.
"Danny..." Steve says, trying to calm him with a hand on his shoulder. Danny turns on him so fast Steve takes a step back.
"Don't Danny me, okay?" He's almost snarling. "You might be trained for this, but I take being taken prisoner very badly, if you didn't notice. If it was just you and me, okay, fine, not my favorite way to spend the day but I'll live. But what about Grace, huh? I was supposed to get her after classes today. I sure hope she wasn't left waiting on the school steps for me, that no one took her and that she's home safe." Danny doesn't even let Steve put a word in as he continues, sounding more and more distressed. "And if she is, safely home, do you think someone told her I'm missing yet? That her dad was taken by bad guys, but hey, he might come back or not, it depends. Rachel is going to kill me for worrying her like that, mark my words."
Steve lets him rant and it's no wonder Danny's been so subdued, if he was bottling it all up. He might bitch and rant about everything under the sun, but Steve has learned that Danny's usually discreet with the stuff that really bothers him until he explodes from too much emotion.
"You know she's okay," Steve says, watching Danny who's now pacing right and left, hands in his hair. "Chin notified Rachel for sure when they couldn't reach us all day, you know that. We all know your custody schedule, Danny; no one would leave your little girl on the school's steps."
Danny doesn't answer but he visibly calms down a bit.
"I hate this."
Steve's about to say he hates it just as much when the door opens again. Four thugs with AK-47's precede a skinny man in a linen suit who surveys the room and smirks when his gaze stops on their cage. It's Ben Kigin, a big player in the import/export business who has a spotless record but who has been suspected of bringing more than rugs and foreign crafts into Hawaii for years. Up until now, HPD and Five-0 had found absolutely no evidence that linked him to arms, drugs or anything illegal. Steve and Danny were having a look at one of his warehouses that morning on a spur-of-the-moment-we're-in-the-neighborhood kind of way, trying to spot at least some employees with shady records, when they were jumped from behind and promptly knocked out. That Kigin is showing his face right now doesn't bode well for their odds of survival; Danny knows it too and forces a smile.
"Look, Steven, an upstanding citizen has heard our cries for help and is here to free us. We'll be eternally grateful, Mister Kigin."
Kigin laughs, pointing at Danny.
"You're funny! I like that. How are you tonight, gentlemen?"
"Peachy," Danny says, though Steve just stares, waiting to see what is up. "I'd prefer walking out, but eh."
With a circular motion Kigin encompasses the shed and cages.
"Do you like the place? It's a little crude, but it's where I keep my special pets."
Unsurprisingly, Danny reacts strongly to that one.
"Pet? I've been called a pig or even a dog before, a bull on occasion, it comes with the job, but a pet?"
Kigin's smile is all teeth.
"That's exactly it. I intend to keep you as long as I feel like it." After a pause and a shrug, Kigin adds, "and when that stops being fun..." The outcome seems none of his concern and Steve interprets the words as the death sentence they probably are.
"Yeah, then what? We get a bullet to the head?" Danny says, miming it. "We suspected you were a weasel and a crook, Kigin, not a kidnapper and a murderer."
"I don't have to be," Kigin says with a smile. "Be good little pets and everything is going to be fine."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Danny's tone is climbing again, which makes Kigin smile wider. He enjoys riling Danny up - honestly, Steve understands the impulse - and it could become a problem.
"All in time, Detective Williams." Kigin touches one of his goons' arms. "Slim, cuff McGarrett and bring him to my office. Remember what I said."
"Yes, Sir," Slim - who's three hundred pounds at least - says, taking a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket and passing his AK-47 to one of his friends.
Kigin leaves with one of his men and the others take position around the cage, far enough from each other that Steve knows he could maybe take one out with a little momentum but not both of them. They take off their safeties and aim as Slim dangles the handcuffs.
"Turn around, McGarrett, hands clasped behind your back and stay near the bars. Shorty goes face against the wall, hands where I can see them. One of you tries something, we shoot the other. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," Steve says, getting into position. He won't risk Danny's life unnecessarily, and anyway for now what's important is to know exactly what they are up against. Danny sighs loudly.
"How wonderful," he grumbles, leaning against the wall as if he's about to get searched.
Slim clamps the cuffs real tight around Steve's wrists, enough that even taking his thumbs out of their sockets wouldn't be enough to get free. Only then does Slim get the key.
"You're going to come nice and easy, or we shoot him. Bill's staying here, on the radio. You even make a twitch that looks like you're trying to escape and he's dead. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah, come on already," Steve says, getting frustrated. Slim puts a smelly burlap sack over his head as soon as he's out of the cage, and then Steve hears the door getting closed and locked again. It's just his luck that they got caught by someone with a brain who knows exactly where to put pressure and with henchmen that for the moment play by the book as the perfect hostage takers, so Steve obeys, at least for now. Steve's only hope is that they'll get complacent after a while, sloppy. He'll find an opening, eventually.
He's being marched to the door, the muzzle of a rifle between his shoulder blades when Danny cries out.
"Don't try something stupid out there! You hear me, Steve?"
"Don't worry," Steve says. "I'll be right back."
****
The walk to Ben Kigin's supposed office takes less than six minutes, where Slim stays close and the other goon not that far behind. Halfway there, barely muffled rock music starts to play, the bass line echoing in the night. When they enter some kind of structure, the music is as loud as at a nightclub and there's the unmistakable sound of a group of people, too. Steve's ordered to climb some stairs, twenty of them, before another door closes behind him and his escort, muffling the music once more.
"Oh, there you are!" It's Kigin's voice, sounding pleased. "Just in time, too. My guests are getting impatient for the show to start."
Steve has no idea what he's talking about until the burlap sack is taken off his head. He's standing in front of a window, overlooking the main room below. Spotlights are trained on a mixed martial arts octagon cage, with a crowd of maybe fifty all around, mostly men but with a fair share of women, laughing and mingling with drinks in their hands. There are almost nude exotic dancers in - oh, surprise! - even more cages, contorting to the music. At first glance Steve makes out at least ten men on security duty, heavily armed.
"I can't wait to throw you in a jail cell," Steve says. "You'll feel right at home."
Kigin laughs.
"Oh, the good Commander has a sense of humor, too! I thought that was your partner's department."
"What do you want, Kigin?" Steve asks, turning his back to the window. Slim and his friend are watchful and Kigin is out of reach, on the other side of a big desk. Maybe it's really his office, for all of those operations they've been trying so hard to find evidence of. Steve would bet his paycheck that there is enough to convict Kigin right there in the stacks of paper grouped in neat little piles.
"That's simple. If you entertain me, you and your partner live. So you're going to go down there in the octagon and fight for my guests."
Fight? Steve frowns, wondering what game he's playing. "What?"
"It isn't hard to understand! You fight, you live to see another day. You lose, you die. Williams dies too. End of story. Go now," Kigin gestures at his guard who points his AK-47 at Steve, then the door.
The death threats could only be bluff... but Steve can't take the chance, not while Danny is at risk. With Slim still checking his every move, Steve goes down the stairs, trying to gather as much info as possible. There's a little hallway, and through it he's taken near a door where, on the other side, the music - heavy metal now - gets impossibly louder. When the door opens, Steve is half blinded by powerful spots trained on him, and he stumbles when Slim shoves him forward roughly. He's being led through a passageway made of chicken mesh that links the door to the octagon, still cuffed, and the audience is screaming; those close enough are hitting on the fence, looking demented for the most part. It's frankly surreal and as Steve walks towards the opened octagon door while being yelled obscenities at, he wonders if the fenced passage is to protect the guests or the fighters. There's no use for Steve to try and get someone to help: everyone can see he's cuffed and held at gunpoint; if there's someone with a conscience in the joint, maybe HPD will get an anonymous tip later (he won't count on it, though).
Slim closes the octagon's cage door once Steve's in, and then wiggles the handcuff keys. Steve puts his back to the door while they are taken off, and Slim has to yell to be understood.
"The fight is to the death."
Steve whips around and grabs the bars. He can't be serious.
"Death?"
A nod from Slim. "If the winner doesn't kill, he gets shot. Only one person makes it out alive."
It's fucked up, but Steve's heard of underground fighting rings like this, where people get off seeing death in motion and are ready to pay the big price to attend.
The noise level that had abated picks back up and Steve rolls his shoulders and wonders for a second if he should lose the shirt; his opponent is now coming through his own fence passageway on the other side of the octagon. The guy seems to be there of his own free will, in boxing shorts, taped hands high in the air and a big grin on his face as the little crowd urges him on. He's well built, maybe a bit taller than Steve, but thinner too, muscles like whip cords; the most distinctive thing about him are the tattoos all over his body, including snakes creeping up his neck and ending on the edge of his jaw, with other small ones coming out of his ears. As he enters the octagon, Tattoo Guy sneers at Steve and makes a cutthroat movement, which seems appreciated by the spectators.
There's no referee in the cage, so the fight starts when Tattoo Guy just hurls himself at Steve, who quite easily manages to throw him aside, using his momentum, and makes him roll on the floor. Tattoo Guy gets back to his feet looking furious, obviously humiliated, and his anger is a point in Steve's favor. He's always been good at hand to hand, but Steve's dehydrated and hungry, his headache has picked up because of the noise and he’s definitely not at his best for this. Tattoo Guy is throwing punches intending to hurt, nothing fair, and Steve lets the training take over, reacting and lashing back. The music, crowd and fight make adrenaline kick in and Steve gets tired of the nonsense pretty fast. He doesn't want to give a show, he just wants to get out of there and make sure Danny's still okay, so when he has enough data on Tattoo's defenses Steve goes all in. A roundhouse kick brings the guy down hard and Steve's on him with a choke-hold right after. Tattoo tries to buck him off, desperate, but he's not going anywhere and Steve holds position as the struggling weakens. When Tattoo Guy falls unconscious, Steve's about to let go when he raises his eyes and sees Slim pointing the AK his way.
Right. Kill or be killed. Kill or get Danny killed. Steve holds on.
***
The burlap sack reappears for the trek back to the kennel, with Steve's hands cuffed behind his back again. He's got proof Danny's still there even before entering the shed.
"No, seriously, what's going on out there, Bill? Oh, I know! A dance party! Is that it? Give me a bone here!"
"He doesn't seem to get the joke, Danny," Steve says as he's pushed inside. "Too subtle for his tiny brain, obviously."
"Well duh!" Danny says, but he sounds less on edge. "So they've brought you back, after all. I wondered."
"Up against the wall again, Cop," Slim orders. Steve's steered inside the kennel cage before the door clanks shut and it's locked once again. Only then is the burlap taken off, then the cuffs, before Slim and friends leave. Danny's by his side in seconds, checking him over, especially the new bruise on his jaw where Tattoo Guy managed a decent right hook.
"What did Kigin want? He tried to beat some info out of you? Or does he get off watching people get hit?" Danny asks.
Trust Danny to guess the man's main motivation that fast.
"The latter. He has his own octagon, made me fight," Steve says.
Danny shakes his head and makes a disapproving sound.
"Lame. I suppose you kicked the other guy's ass?" he says with utmost confidence, going to the corner of the cell.
It's true, but it's not like Steve's proud of what he's done. That he killed a man, a civilian, on the order of a criminal is just starting to register.
"Yeah."
"That's my boy," Danny says, coming back with a bottle of water and one of those disgusting pre-packed sandwiches you generally find at gas stations. "Here. We finally had room service."
Steve cracks the bottle open and takes several gulps before realizing it's their only one and giving it back to Danny.
"Why didn't you take any?"
Danny shrugs, drinks a bit.
"I could wait. Ready to risk salmonella?" he says, wiggling the sandwich.
"Not yet, you go ahead."
"Smart. Then you'll see if I keel over first." Danny takes a tentative bite, chews with his serious face on, then hums and devours the rest in almost no time at all. Steve can't help but snort with amusement to see his cheeks stuffed like a squirrel.
"Not so bad, then?"
Danny gestures while shaking his head and takes a gulp of water before he's able to talk.
"You'd be wrong, there, it's absolutely terrible. But it's food and I'm famished, so it will have to do."
The other half of the sandwich is shoved in his hands and Steve is tempted to tell Danny to go ahead and eat it but he'd refuse. He drinks a bit more water instead and goes to sit against the wall and puts the food beside him for later, maybe. Now that the adrenaline is coming down, Steve knows he's going to crash soon.
"I guess there's nothing much to do now but wait and see," Danny says.
That's exactly it so Steve tips his head against the cement wall and closes his eyes. His mind is reeling, playing over and over the sensation of choking that guy to death and he needs to shove it down and not think about it at all until they are out of this mess. Danny sits next to him, close enough that Steve feels his body heat.
"I'm sure Chin and Kono will be here soon, anyway," Danny says, making it sound like a promise.
***
Their second day in the kennel isn't any more entertaining than the first, far from it. Steve knows they're trapped, for now, with nothing to work on the bars or the cement holding them. Danny is a bit less subdued than he was the day before, but he's still moody and Steve asks him stupid questions about New Jersey just to make him react a bit. His most creative to date was finally using facts from that website on stupid laws in the Garden State - he'd been hoarding those for the perfect moment - which prompted a 20 minute rant on how ridiculous it was to even check those things. Not nearly as much as "You may not throw a bad pickle in the street" from the city of Trenton, if you asked Steve.
The guy who takes care of the dogs comes in the afternoon to roughly clean the cages by spraying the floor with a hose. He acts as if he's deaf, unmoved by Danny's attempts to have him help.
"I hope you realize you are a minnow in Kigin's food chain, kid. From what I see, you're just doing your job but you could do so much better than here. Help us go, or, if you can't do that, which I can understand what with the guys with guns all around, then just let someone know that we're here and I swear, I swear I'll find you a job that is better than cleaning dog shit."
Steve knows it won't change anything, but if it makes Danny feel better to try... so be it. Once the guy is gone, the place smells a bit better but it's still a long way from being decent. Danny slumps back against the wall, hands gripping his hair and Steve hates seeing him like that.
"Kigin is trying to break us," Steve unhelpfully says.
Danny scoffs. "You think I don't know that?"
"Then don't let him win. You've got to trust we'll get out, you've got to believe everything is going to be okay," Steve urges.
That earns him a half smile. "You're sure of that, aren't you?"
"You aren't?" Steve counters.
Danny squares his shoulders a bit, takes a big breath.
"Of course. We're going to be fine. It's just... I don't like small spaces all that much. Not being able to move. It's getting to me, I'll admit that."
It makes sense, with all the space Danny takes up with his personality and constant movement. Steve hums. "You must really hate your apartment, then," he deadpans.
Danny laughs, genuine for a moment and the bad joke earns Steve a sharp hit to the arm. He protests, making a show of rubbing the spot but he can't stop grinning.
***
At about the same time as the day before, the guy on dog maintenance brings back the kibble and the kennel explodes with barks from the hungry dogs.
"What's your name, kid?" Danny asks, though he gets no answer. "Okay, fine, be like that. I'm gonna call you Johnny. Is that to your liking?"
"He does look like a Johnny," Steve agrees.
"Thank you, Steven. It warms my heart that we agree on such important issues."
Johnny doesn't react one way or another, but he passes right by Bob without feeding him, which causes some pathetic whining from the big Rott.
"Hey, that's not fair. What did Bob do?" Danny protests on his behalf.
Once he's done feeding the mutts, Johnny puts away the kibble pouch and comes back with a leash. Bob is jumping near the door, anticipating that he's about to get out.
"Shit, you have keys?" Danny says when Johnny gets Bob out, fastening the leash first. "Come on, man, leave ours here. We'll wait 'til you're gone to make a break."
Of course it doesn't work. Johnny heads out of the shed with a bounding Bob and Danny's back at hitting the bars in frustration. Steve's keeping an ear out and just as he thought there are more and more cars driving by, the sound of doors being closed and laughter drifting to them. It can only mean one thing and Steve starts pacing, or he tries anyway. He can barely take two steps before he has to turn around.
"What's gotten into you, all of a sudden?" Danny asks. "You've been annoyingly calm and composed all day, getting on my last nerve, I'll have you know, and now you decide to make the best impression ever of a tiger at the zoo?"
"He's going to have me fight someone again," Steve says.
Will have him kill again, he doesn't say. But no, no, Steve's thought of it all day and he won't do it. He might be beaten to a pulp for it, but it will be worth it. There's barely any chance that Kigin would kill them, not right now when they've just been captured. Kigin is not tired of playing with them yet.
"Oh. That's actually quite probable," Danny says, and right on cue the door opens and it's Slim and friends. Still armed, still cautious and Steve will play along for that part, will let himself be cuffed and go with them to take the threat further away from Danny. He's got the burlap sack over his head once more and is heading through the door when Danny shouts out.
"Don't you dare get hurt, McGarrett!"
"I'll be right back, Danno," Steve says, perfectly aware it's the same thing he said the day before. And he will, though he doesn't know in what condition he'll be.
***
Going up the stairs, Steve hears shouts and whistles through the music and figures that there are other fights before him. Or maybe he gets a day off, who knows how Kigin's mind works. When he can see again, Steve's by the window once more and Kigin is a couple of paces away watching down with rapt attention. Curious in spite of himself, Steve looks too and he really should not be surprised by what he sees. There's a fight in the octagon alright, but it's Bob and some pit-bull mix. Steve has always hated dog fights so he turns his back to the window.
"I won't kill, next time," Steve says.
Kigin shrugs.
"Then you'll get shot. To be honest, some of my guests love when that happens. It's funny how they get off so much on seeing someone die because he has principles."
It disgusts Steve, it doesn't amuse him at all.
"I won't kill," he repeats.
"Then you're no use to me, unless..." Kigin pauses, giving Steve an appreciative once over that makes his skin crawl. "There are other ways to make me happy," he continues, biting his lip, beady blue eyes suddenly lascivious.
Oh shit, no. Another mind game, until it's not.
"No," Steve spits out. "I'll take the bullet."
Kigin puts a hand over his heart with mock humor, but his eyes turn cold.
"You wound me, pet." He turns to Slim. "Have him fight, and shoot him if he doesn't do what he's got to do. Tomorrow night, bring me Williams."
Steve manages to stay stoic but his mind is rebelling at the mere idea of it. Chin and Kono just need a bit more time; they'll get to Danny first. Kigin knows he's scoring points, though, and has a cruel smile.
"I couldn't help but notice what a nice ass he has."
It's totally involuntary but Steve snarls and he leaps towards Kigin, before being yanked backwards by one of the goons who has grabbed the chain between the cuffs and holds strong as Steve struggles to go forward. It's satisfying to see the flash of fear in Kigin's eyes for a moment, but he rapidly laughs it off. Slim yells for him to calm down and Steve only does when he has the cold muzzle of an AK at the base of his neck.
"Did I hit a nerve? I've had you observed, Commander, before all of this, and I'm reasonably sure that you'd hate anyone but you touching that pert ass, hmmm?"
"You fucking scumbag!" Steve hisses, stomach churning because yes, that's true, he's been desperately crushing on Danny for a good long while but it's supposed to be his secret, not something to exploit by a lowlife like Ben Kigin. "I'll fight, I'll do it, but if you even touch one hair on Danny's head, I'll rip your intestines out by your throat, I swear to god."
He's saying too much, making both Danny and himself vulnerable and he should play it cool, but Steve can't help it. Kigin rolls his eyes.
"Yeah yeah. I'll make you a deal: you do what is asked and Williams stays put in his cage. How about that?" Kigin dares to make a look-at-how-nice-I-am face, offering that as a favor.
"Fine," Steve says, finally calming down though his blood is still pumping. He doesn't trust Kigin as far as he can throw him, but the immediate threat seems gone.
"Bring him down," Kigin says.
Even knowing what to expect, walking through the corridor to the octagon still feels surreal with the commotion the so-called guests cause. The plywood floor of the octagon has been hosed down and is still wet, and Steve tests how slippery it is with his boot. Slim frees him of the cuffs and this time Steve decides to take his shirt off, which will lower the risks of being grabbed by his opponent. As he strips he gets wolf whistled, although the focus of the crowd's attention shifts to the other guy who's being led to the cage while Steve passes his shirt and t-shirt through the fence back at Slim.
The guy looks like a bulldog, compact and with strong shoulders, and he's definitely not showing off like the first, he means business. When the doors are closed and it's only the two of them, idiots of the crowd looking on notwithstanding, the man extends his fist for a knuckle brush, a show of respect reflected in dark brown eyes; a "may the best man win" without words. It makes Steve curse the situation some more because he doesn't want to kill him, doesn't want to think that this man maybe has a family and kids at home.
The first - hard, so hard - punch forces Steve to get his head in the game, though; he doesn't want to lose. Losing means dying here, but more than that it means Kigin will get to Danny next and that can't happen. Training kicks in once more and the opening comes, at last, for Steve to hit the guys with the heel of his hand, up and hard on the nose, one of the many ways he's been taught to incapacitate and maim. The crowd gasps and then cheers wildly when Steve's opponent crumbles to the ground. Panting, Steve crouches by his side, checks for a pulse that isn't there and closes the man's eyes with a whispered apology.
His job is done for the night, Steve thinks with a touch of hysterics, and he goes to stand obediently near the door to be cuffed again.
***
The guests are starting to arrive, that much is clear with the sounds outside and the fact it's been dark for a while; Steve tries the best he can to block it all out, to stay in his head. He has killed before this, men he'd been pointed towards as a weapon and he never questioned it, always trusted it was the right thing to do, that his superiors had good reasons for asking this of him. He's taken down many perps doing his job with Five-0, even, and never lost any sleep over it. There are so many deaths Steve will have to answer for some day, so it should be just a couple more that he doesn't know how to avoid. It's not that simple, though. Steve's been taught to put distress and pain in little boxes, sealed tight and buried deep down until it's time to deal with them. He does his best at the moment, and wonders if it will be enough.
"You're awfully quiet," Danny says and Steve opens his eyes, look sideways at him. They're sitting with their backs to the wall and Danny has a hand through the bars in Bob's cage, petting his head. They've been friends since Bob came back from his own fight with a bad leg and Danny shared his food in sympathy. For a moment Steve is jealous of the attention the dog is getting and that makes him hit his head against the wall, not his best idea with the residual pain that still lingers. What the fuck is wrong with him?
"I don't want to go." His voice is rusty, and Steve realizes that he didn't hold his end of the conversations today, letting Danny fill the silence.
"If it's any consolation, I don't want you to go either. I can hear them, you know, yelling through the music."
"They're so fucking loud." They watch so closely, too, giddy to see him lose pieces of his soul.
Slim enters the shed and Steve springs to his feet. He can't avoid the fights, but he can get through them as fast as he can. He goes with his back to the door and Danny frowns, upset with something, before getting in position too.
"That's it, Dog," Slim says, as always flanked with his two armed buddies, who are still too careful so there's no chance to escape. "Good boy."
Steve grits his teeth and Danny curses.
"You son of a bitch. He's an ass, Steve. Don't let him get to you."
"It's okay," Steve says as the burlap sack is put on his head. "See you later."
As he's pushed outside towards the building with the ring Steve counts his steps, and it seems that Slim and company don't find tripping him as amusing as they used to because it takes a good twenty steps less than the night before, practically in a straight line, to get there. Once inside, Steve stops: he won't go up to Kigin's office.
"Bring me to the cage," he says and he's surprised when he's led toward the corridor without protests.
"The boss is busy anyways, come on."
Steve gets his shirt off when he's in the octagon and instead of avoiding the eyes of the spectators, he tries to commit their faces to memory. When they get out, because they will get out, Steve is going to find those motherfuckers and shit will hit the fan. It disgusts him to see so many women with diamonds and men with five thousand dollar suits, rich and blasé enough to find their thrill through violence and live deaths. He's being scrutinized right back and his scowl doesn't seem a deterrent at all, judging by the way he's leered at.
What is for sure is that Steve will do what he has to do as fast as he can and leave them on their appetite. Rolling his shoulders and neck, Steve tries to get in the right head space, if such a thing exists, hands gripped in the mesh as he waits for the bout to start. All of his mental conditioning is derailed when he hears the other door close and turns to sees the fighter now with him in the cage: it's a young Asian looking man, a kid, most probably not even twenty yet. Steve looks up at the window where he knows Kigin is and if his hate could be channeled in a laser beam, the freak would burn. The kid takes a couple of steps towards him and Steve yells over the music:
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
The young guy has a half smile, but the cockiness doesn't reach his eyes.
"I'm going to kill you, and get 25 grand for it," he says.
"Come on, you have no chance. I know that, he knows that," Steve says, pointing to the office. "Maybe we can convince them to let you go if neither of us fight."
Unfortunately, the kid doesn't want to hear reason and charges him, hits with all he has and it messes with Steve so much that it barely hurts. He doesn't even hit back, just protects himself and pleads with the kid to stop. It gives nothing and the crowd starts to boo, unsatisfied. Steve's backed against the mesh with his forearms over his face, and suddenly Slim is behind him, yelling right by his ear.
"Goddammit, McGarrett, fight back!"
"No."
He's going to be black and blue with bruises - because the boy might not hit hard enough to injure him badly but it stings none the less - but Steve can sustain this for hours without anyone dying; they'll grow bored and do a rematch with someone else. As long as the kid insists to hit him on the arms and body and doesn't wise up to hit him in the groin, the knees or other weaker parts, he's going to be fine.
"If you don't hit back, I have orders to shoot him in the gut," Slim says. "You know the rule, only one person gets out tonight. Or do you want the bullet?"
Steve is fucked either way, that much is clear. If he decides this is enough and dies to save this kid, then possibly Danny's going be brought to fight him the day after. Danny's not a killer, not like Steve, he could not cope with it and it would destroy him inside. Straightening up, Steve shoves the boy away to get a little bit of space to breathe. The crowd cheers and Steve wishes he could jump the fence and get up close and personal with a couple of those douche-bags, see if they'd like death so much on their husband or friends.
It isn't clear if the kid heard Slim at all, but he takes one look at Steve's face and there's panic in his eyes now. Steve waits for him to come close.
"I'm sorry," Steve says and the kid's eyes widen. "This won't hurt, much."
Two seconds is all it takes to pull him close and snap his neck like a twig. Everything dulls after that, as if Steve hit a switch. The yelling is a muffled roar and he knows Slim is talking as he locks his cuffs, but Steve doesn't bother listening. He walks back out, stops for the hood, and he's almost out of his body, cataloging what is going on by rote. Outside there is a torrential downpour and the gun in his back urges him to hurry up. Steve almost slips in the mud more than once and the rain feels cool on his skin, which distantly makes him wonder what happened to his shirt.
Steve doesn't know if he can face Danny, almost asks to be put in one of the empty cages, but then Danny would bitch and demand an explanation Steve never wants to give. As soon as he's back in the cage and uncuffed, Danny is all over him.
"Shit," he breathes, fingers light on the bruises that are starting to form.
Steve takes the water bottle in the corner, takes a sip and wonders if he should feel sick right now. A normal person would probably puke in self-disgust. But no, he feels nothing, and frankly nothing is good right now. Maybe he'll be able to sleep.
"Did you hear anything I said? Steve!"
It seems Danny was talking, he'd zoned out. Steve answers mostly to get him off his back. "I'm fine."
Danny throws his hands in the air at that and Steve checks the arc of it, wonders if it can be put in an equation. There is surely a whole mathematical field that could be born of studying Danny.
"He's fine, he says!" Danny rants. "See, I don't buy that for one fucking second, okay? So stop lying and tell me what's going on."
"Everything is going to be okay." Even to his own ears it sounds flat and unconvincing. He sits down, closes his eyes and hopes for a moment that Danny is going to let this go. Wishful thinking, of course.
"Newsflash, things are not okay! They are so not okay right now, Steve! And I can't help if I don't know exactly what is going on, do you realize that? It kills me to see you revert to RoboSteve."
That, at last, makes Steve react and he opens his eyes to look at Danny, confused. "RoboSteve?"
"Yes, RoboSteve, the lean mean machine. I've worked hard all these months to loosen you up, help you interact more normally with the human race... You don't want to undo that, do you?"
Danny's holding his hands in supplication, and he's honestly distressed, which wakes a pang in Steve's chest that he squashes immediately.
"I'm just tired," Steve says, stretching his legs. "Don't worry."
Which is like asking Danny to please stop breathing, Steve is conscious of the difficulty. He's therefore not surprised when Danny insists, sitting cross-legged by his side, then taking hold of Steve's face to assure eye contact.
"What do you do out there, Steve?"
He'd push Danny away, but Steve finds himself unable to break the gaze. Danny's eyes are so very blue, clear. Not mucky like his.
"They generally take me to see Kigin, though not tonight, then to the octagon. I fight, I win, and I come straight back here."
Danny scrutinizes his face for a minute but shakes his head.
"You're lying."
"Am not," Steve says. It's the cold hard facts.
"Lying by omission, then. Spill, McGarrett. I can be patient when I want, and I'll get to the bottom of this."
So much intensity all the time... it gets a bit much. If he knows everything, Danny will back off and leave Steve with his welcome numbness.
"I'm not lying. I kill the other guy, I live another day. As simple as that. No sweat."
Danny blinks when the words register and he opens and closes his mouth a couple of times like a fish, eyes going round. That's it, it will work, and Steve waits for the surprise to morph into horror, into disgust. When it comes it looks more like anger, and yes, Steve's earned that, too. Danny gets up, goes to the front of the cage and tries to shake the bars.
"You bunch of sick fucks!" he yells. "I hope your stupid cars go over big cliffs, do you hear that?"
"It's raining," Steve supplies.
Danny turns to him and he's beet red, enraged. Not at him, Steve notes.
"What?"
"They can't hear you, because it's raining," he points out reasonably.
There's another shift in Danny's mood at that, anger quickly dropped for pity, or it looks like it. Normally it would sting, but not so much right now. Danny comes and crouches next to him.
"Jesus, Steve..." he says softly, cupping Steve's cheek. "I'm so sorry."
He looks like his heart is breaking and Steve doesn't want that.
"You've done nothing wrong."
"You did nothing wrong either," Danny counters, which is false.
"I killed them."
Danny huffs. "Did you want to? Was it fun?"
"Of course not."
"It was either that or they'd kill you?" Danny shouldn't try to justify it, but it's true.
"Yeah."
"Is that all? Because somehow, I think there's something missing here." Danny always sees too much.
Steve manages to look away, then, focuses on a bar. "Then they'd hurt you."
"Fuck!" Danny curses, letting go of Steve's face to put a hand on his shoulder. "That bastard. I can't wait to wring his skinny neck."
Steve flashes back to the kid, how easy it was to take the light out of his eyes. Steve hadn't looked back but most probably it had been as if he was sleeping; his casket could be open if the family wished for it. The thought makes him wonder if they gave the bodies back or if they conveniently disappeared. Steve hoped they did set the corpses to be found, it would help the families to get closure.
"Shit. Hey, hey, Steve! Don't you dare leave me here all alone, do you hear me?"
Danny's strange sometimes.
"I'm right here, Danno."
Instead of arguing further, Danny makes a choked sound and pulls him close, strong arms closing around Steve's shoulder, one hand on his neck.
"Oh, baby, god, I'm so sorry."
There's no harm in leaning into him, to close his arms around Danny too and to put his face in his neck, just for a moment. Danny's rubbing his back, whispering non-stop.
"I wish I knew what to do right now. Maybe you shutting down is for the best... Or, or I should help you snap out of it, but how the hell should I know? You put me in the most impossible situations, Steven J. McGarrett, as usual. But you and me, we're in this together, hear that? You don't have to protect me."
Of course Steve has to protect him, but right now Danny's solid, next to him, hot and real in his arms and it's like Steve thaws at his contact. He should pull back, keep the numbness but finds it impossible, so he holds even tighter.
"Dannydannydannydanny..." he murmurs, like a mantra.
"Shhhh, shhhhh," Danny soothes, rocking a little as if Steve is a frightened child and it's the tenderness in the gesture that makes the ice cover start to crack, the whole panel of it falling off.
"It was a kid, Danny, that last one," Steve confesses, though he's sorry to put that burden on Danny, too, who doesn't deserve it. "Just a boy who wanted some money."
"Fuck. I'm so sorry, that's not fair. Life's not fair." Danny holds him tighter.
"The one before, I scrambled his brain by hitting his nose... and, and the first I choked to death. It was easy, Danny, so easy."
Letting the words out hurts, and it leaves him with a gap inside. Steve now feels raw and skinned alive, the blessed numbness gone.
"Don't say that, shhh. You're a good person, Steve. You're the best. I hate that Kigin forced you to do that. He's the real killer, you did what you could. Don't let him and what he asks mess with you."
Steve wants to believe that so much, wants Danny to be sure for him, too. Now that he's feeling again, he also wants it to be something else than hurt, at least for a little bit. His usual defenses are shot and Steve can't resist: Danny's neck is right there against his face so it's easy to go with it and kiss him. Doing it just once is torture and Steve mostly expects Danny to shush him and pretend nothing happened, but no, he's pressing his own lips in a chaste kiss near Steve's ear.
"It's okay, I've got you," Danny says, palming the back of Steve's neck and squeezing a little.
He's offering comfort, his presence, but Steve wants so much more. He's dreamed of kissing Danny for so long, but never dared because it could be the end of everything and the risk was unacceptable. This is fucked up, but right now Steve knows that if Danny's going to turn him down, it will be gently and it won't be held against him. So Steve dares to kiss Danny's neck again, over his pulse point, and he feels it quicken against his lips. The temptation to sneak a hand under Danny's t-shirt is too strong, so Steve does it until he can touch skin that is as hot and soft as he's always imagined.
"Steve..." Danny's tone is unsure but not chastising, and he's not pulling away either so Steve drops tiny kisses going up Danny's neck, then on the underside of his jaw.
"Please," Steve whispers against the prickly three day stubble.
Danny swallows hard and when he cups Steve's jaw, there's a moment where he's terrified that Danny's going to push him away. But he only does so to tilt Steve's head a bit and then he's kissing him on the mouth, firm and sure. Steve whimpers, sure his heart won't resist long the way it's beating wildly in his rib cage, and he opens up at the brush of Danny's tongue on his lower lip. Their kisses become the center of Steve's universe, the only thing he wants to be thinking about, ignoring everything else forever, amen. Somehow he's now straddling Danny's thighs while he sits against the wall, both hands under his t-shirt, and if he could crawl up in Danny and lose himself in him, he'd do it. Danny's hands are roaming all over him, one sliding up his thighs then gripping his waist, the other one climbing up his spine and pulling Steve closer.
"Tell me what I can do," Danny demands. "What do you need?"
"Just be you," Steve says, diving for more kisses.
He knows he's kissing as if he's desperate - he is - as if he's drowning, but Steve can't help it, Danny's the only lifesaver in sight. He keens when Danny starts unfastening his cargo pants, and hurries to do the same, shoving his hand down Danny's boxers just as Danny makes a fist around Steve's dick. It's messy and fast, jolts of pleasure as they're reduced to panting into each other's mouth while jacking off.
Danny's eyes are closed, head thrown back against the wall, and Steve doesn't want this to ever end but he's just a couple of strokes away from coming, it's inevitable. Danny's eyes suddenly open and they're almost black, with only a tiny ring of blue all around, and that's what tips Steve over the edge: he comes with Danny's name on his lips, the world whiting out in a bolt of pleasure so strong it leaves him weak as a kitten afterward. He slumps forward and Danny catches him, then closes a hand over Steve's who somehow forgot he was in the middle of giving a hand job, too.
"Just, god, I..." Danny stutters and Steve manages to resume his strokes; it only takes a couple and Danny's groaning, going tense all over as he comes over Steve's hand.
They stay put for a couple of minutes, Steve's head on Danny's shoulder as he tries to get his heartbeat and his breathing under control. Danny has started caressing his back again in a steady rhythm, and somehow it's soothing enough to make Steve drowsy and maybe, just maybe he could sleep.
"Come on, lie down now," Danny nudges, manhandling him gently. Steve curls on the floor, his head on Danny's lap and an arm thrown across his legs since he's not ready to cut all contact yet. Strong fingers card in his hair, just like when he woke up days ago, and he takes a shaky breath, tries to focus on that alone.
The storm has gotten worse outside, rain pelting against the metal roof of the shed and making it awfully noisy in what sounds like a whooping thunderstorm. Without protest, Steve lets himself get pulled under the water until all goes black.
****
Part 2