Our Devoured Minds Part 1/8 (Hawaii 5-0)
Our Devoured Minds Part 1/8
Author: Tari_Roo
Rating: PG (Gen)
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Steve would be bare-chested even more than he is, we would actually ‘see’ Danny trying to surf and Kono would be a secret Cylon. That is all. Wait… Chin would be as awesome as he is.
Summary: Everyone says it’s the not knowing, right? Danny disappears and someone tries to kidnap Grace. Cue 5-0 and serious ass-kicking as Steve & Co try to keep Grace safe and find Danny.
Spoilers: None, but you kinda have to know the show, ok?
Saturday Morning
Steve nearly didn’t hear the opening bars of his ringtone, but the tune sounded so familiar that he automatically patted his back pocket for his phone, belatedly realized it was not in fact there, and that he’d left his phone on the kitchen counter. Slamming the door open, Steve caught his phone just as it was about to vibrate itself into the sink of dirty dishes. Not bothering to check caller ID, he thumbed the call and barked, “McGarrett!”
His mind was still half on the Mercury in semi-working condition outside, so the quiet, small, ‘little’ voice on the other end didn’t quite register until the second sentence. “Is Danno there?”
“Grace?”
“Uncle Steve?”
Two things clicked into place immediately, as Steve gripped the phone tightly. First, Grace sounded scared, terrified. Her breathing was sharp and fast, and McGarrett could practically hear her heart pounding. Second, Danny wasn’t answering his phone, because there was no way that ‘Uncle Steve’ was her first call if something was wrong.
“Grace? It’s Steve, what’s...”
“Is Danno there? I can’t ... he’s not...” Panicked, so close to tears breathing on the other end, as Grace struggled to talk. Little girl scared did all sorts of crazy things to a guy’s stomach, triggered something ‘urgent’ even in the most non-paternal man and Steve was moving, grabbing his truck keys, “Grace, Danny’s not here. What’s wrong? I’m ...”
“Someone’s here, men.... I’m hiding... where’s Danno?”
The ‘I’m terrified, help!’ was non-verbalized but so very audible and Steve slammed the front door shut and ran towards his truck. Not wasting with futile questions around where Rachel was, or why Grace was alone, McGarrett reassured Grace, “I’m on my way, Grace. Stay hidden. Did you see who the people where, how many?”
Grace’s breaths echoed through the line and she gasped brokenly, trying to brave, calm but failing, “Mia answered the door and ... and they had guns. I ran. Danno says always run, and hide and wait for him. But he’s not answering, Uncle Steve. He’s not answering.”
Yeah, that was freaking Steve out as well, as Danny always answered Grace’s calls. Always. Starting the engine with a roar, Steve tore down the road, the truck over-revving as he gunned the shift change. Flipping his phone to hands free, Steve kept one eye on the road, as he texted Chin ‘Track Danny’s cell’ and said calmly, “How many men, Grace?”
“Two... three... maybe. I ran. I... I ... need....” ‘Danno’ was a swallowed sob, as Grace lost her voice to tears, tiny shuddering breathes sending gooseflesh down Steve’s spine.
Swerving around a slow moving car, Steve nodded and growled calmly, “I know. I’m checking on your Dad, Grace. And I am sure he’s ok ... just... “ A squeak of terrified dismay cut Steve off and he nearly crossed into oncoming traffic as Grace went quiet. Picking up the phone, ignoring the text message from Chin, Steve listened to the thready, frightened breathing on the other end. Quietly, hoping she’d hear, Steve hissed, “I’m nearly there, kiddo, nearly there. Just stay still and very quiet.”
No response, but seconds later another small squeak and then in the background, a deeper voice indistinct, but someone else hushing them. “Gracie,” Steve whispered, “stay real still and quiet, kay?” He could hear her nodding, trembling and McGarrett shoved the accelerator flat, even though it was already flat out. Over the whining trail of horns and screeching tires behind him, Steve strained to hear anything through the phone, voices, footsteps, anything. But all he could hear was Grace... breathing. An old red ford nearly cut him off, its driver hurling abuse out of the window, but Steve caught the change in breathing, the hitch in her chest, tears welling, sobs building. “Grace...”
“They’re gone... in the hall, heading for Mom’s room. Danno...Uncle Steve...”
His stomach was doing all sorts of flips and dives, and McGarrett swallowed as he reassured her, “Hang tight, kiddo. Nearly there.”
Only he wasn’t, he was still a good fifteen minutes away and fifteen minutes was a hell of a long time for a little girl alone in her home, with armed men, home invaders, who knew. Flipping open the text from Chin and nearly sideswiping an old battered Jeep, Steve glanced at the words. ‘Phone off. 911?’
He texted back, ‘Rachel’s house. B&Ws. NOW!’
“Grace?” Checking she was still there, hadn’t dropped the phone, or the call, or something worse but she sobbed in reply, voice thick with tears and fear, “I can hear them... coming back.” Steve mumbled something reassuring as he tore through a red light, narrowly missed a bus and finally turned into Rachel’s neighborhood. “Grace, I can see your house, you hang tight!”
He couldn’t and she didn’t reply besides a mumbled litany of pleas for Danno and her Mom. Her time was running out, as the men weren’t stealing or ransacking, they were looking. Looking for either her or Rachel and since Rachel wasn’t home....
“Steve!” A whispered scream, bitten off, desperate and McGarrett nearly took out a row of post boxes as he cut a corner sharply, and left tire tracks on a few lawns. On the other end of the phone, there were deep, male voices in the background and then suddenly the house was in view, the massive gates wide open. Steve drew his sidearm even as he jumped the curb, and scraped the gate as he roared in. A black SUV, motor running, was idling in the drive, poised for a getaway. As he leapt out of the truck, the driver of the SUV stepped out and opened fire. The shot was wild, flashing over McGarrett’s head but Steve’s aim was true, one shot to shatter the window, the second plunging into the shooter’s shoulder, dropping him.
The guy was screaming, rolling on the ground as McGarrett ran over. A local guy, with wannabe Samoan gang tats. Some pissant looking to make a name for himself. Steve kicked the gun away and yelled, “How many? Who are they?”
All he got was a mouthful of Samoan curses and a shaky middle finger and Steve wasted two valuable seconds wondering if he should cuff the kid before running inside. He did cuff him, to the door handle and then ran into the house, back to back with the heavy wooden door. Mia, the housekeeper, was unconscious on the polished wooden floor, an angry bleeding wound on her forehead. The house was quiet, and Steve risked putting the phone to his ear. Grace was still breathing, still there. Scanning the upper floor, the open doors to the bedrooms and upstairs den, Steve watched for movement, a shadow, a sound.
Nothing.
The surge of adrenalin coursing through him was tainted by fear for Grace, that maybe the breathy echo on the phone was actually muffled, captured, hostage breathing, that he’d missed something whilst dealing with the driver, and that was ... unacceptable. Steve edged around the door, trying not to expose himself to a shooter from the ground or upper level. It was a little too quiet, and after the gunshots, they knew he was here and were probably waiting for him. Two or three shooters, unknown positions and McGarrett stared at his phone, ended the call and licked his lips.
As he stepped out into the foyer , a shot came from the hall leading to the main bedroom and a second came from the open space of the kitchen. Two brief glimpses of black clad men, muzzle flashes , but Steve had already cleared the foyer, hurdled Mia and was on the stairs, heading for Grace. The twist in the staircase gave him a brief angle on the first shooter and it was all he needed. It wasn’t a clean shot, but enough to drop the guy, who fell out of sight in the passage leading to the main bedroom.
The man in the kitchen was moving as well, heading straight for him. He ran right into Steve’s line of fire and he went down with one head shot. “Shit!” The man fell in a spray of blood, as he’d been moving quicker than McGarrett had expected. The head shot was a mistake, unlucky but Steve didn’t have time to worry, as bullets peppered the railing above his head. “Shit.” The man upstairs was down but not out. Was there a third? He threw himself down flat on the stairs, and returned fire.
Keeping low, Steve waited for an opportunity, trying to keep an eye for any movement behind him. “5-0! Put your gun down. Now!”
As expected, the answer was another round of gunfire, but the moment the perp’s gun clicked on empty, Steve was moving, closing the gap, legs bunching to leap up the stairs two at time. But shooter number three had been waiting for that, and as Steve moved out of cover, he opened fire from the opposite end of the corridor, near Grace’s room. Steve whirled and dropped to the carpet with a thud, firing back even as he fell. He caught the shooter center mass, two to the chest and the man staggered back into the bedroom in a spray of blood. Instinctively, McGarrett rolled to check on the other man and his finger squeezed off a shot before he’d fully processed the sight of the last perp raising a shaky hand, wobbling gun pointed at Steve’s back.
McGarrett’s shot was wild, plunging into the wall above the man’s head, as he continued to roll to get a better angle. He felt the hot flash of a bullet too close for comfort, and Steve snapped off another wild shot. Luckily for the immediate danger, but unfortunately for later efforts, that last shot knocked the man into the wall, and he slid down leaving a trail of dark, thick blood, smeared across the pale paint.
Heart pounding in his ears, McGarrett lay stunned for a moment, watching, waiting for someone to move. But all three men were down, and as Steve climbed to his feet, he hissed in surprise and looked down. In the melee of gunfire, a lucky shot, had grazed his thigh and was now burning in real protest at the movement. Shoving that aside, McGarrett flicked a quick glance at the nearest shooter, who was collapsed in an unnatural sprawl against the wall. In the distance, he could hear the sirens of the approaching black and whites. About time. Limping a little, Steve stalked down the corridor, heading for Grace’s room, gun still poised, ready. “Grace?”
The third man was unmoving, a pool of blood growing beneath him, soaked up at the thick pile carpet. “Grace!” Her bedroom was tossed, cupboards open, bed over turned, pink and white blankets on the floor. “Grace!” Nothing. No movement, and as Steve stepped into her room, the warm morning sunlight bathing everything in gold and yellow, his mouth grew dry and tight as he silence deepened, the only sound his pounding heart.
“Grace, it’s Steve. Where are you?”
“Steve?”
Further away, not in this room, and her voice sounded wet, desperate. Ignoring the flare of pain, Steve ran out of her bedroom, heading in the general direction of her voice, but as he entered the hall, the staircase banister dropping away to the foyer below, where Mia was stirring on the floor, he stopped. Grace was silhouetted in the bathroom doorway, hair wild, face red with tears. He closed the distance to her and she met him with a tight fierce hug. The laundry basket in the bathroom was on the floor, clothes scattered everywhere.
Grace was shaking, and her arms were wrapped around his waist like he was a lifeline, and Steve was suddenly at a loss as to what to do with his hands. His holster was blocked by her trembling, sobbing frame, and his t-shirt was getting wet, but hell if Steve knew what to do next. And she was pressing right against the bullet graze on his leg. So he did what came naturally. He dropped to his knees, tucked his sidearm into the back of his jeans and wrapped his arms around the sobbing little girl.
“Hey, hey, you’re ok. Are you ok?”
Grace was shaking and nodding her head, now tucked under his chin, her tears trickling down his collarbone. She was still trembling and she was trying to talk through her tears, gulping and sniffing loudly. Steve continued to make what he hoped were soothing sounds, rubbing gentle circles over her back. As much as her crying was unintelligible, one thing was clear. “...Danno.”
The sound of patrol cars pulling into the drive interrupted the moment and Steve scooped Grace up into his arms and quickly walked down the stairs. With her face buried against his shoulder, he hoped she wouldn’t see the aftermath of the gunfight, but she had certainly heard it in action. Danny was going to kill him. Several Officers met him at the door and Steve snapped, “One injured, two dead, one vic with an injury. Kitchen, two upstairs.”
They nodded and Steve walked out into the decidedly less bloody driveway, until he spotted the black SUV, its broken window and bloody driver, who was yelling abuse at the stern faced Officer re-cuffing him. Chin and Kono were pulling up behind his truck, and Steve made for the safety of familiar faces.
“Boss!”
“You ok?”
Steve nodded briefly and they backed up to let him and Grace past. Kono opened the door of her car and Steve put Grace inside. She reluctantly let go of him, wiping her face with the back of her hand. She beat him to the question of the moment, “Where’s Danno?”
Chin and Kono shared a look and Chin said hesitantly, “He’s not here?”
Both Steve and Grace shook their heads and just as Steve was about to demand intel, Chin continued, “His phone was off, but then it turned on... and it was here, so we thought...”
Instantly Grace started looking around and Steve pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial for Danny. A long couple of seconds passed as the call went through and then they all heard a phone ringing. From the black SUV.
Everyone, including Grace, ran towards the SUV. Kono pulled open the side door as Steve barked at the Officers, “You clear the vehicle?” But the car was empty, except for a flashing phone on one of the backseats. It was Danny’s. Steve’s name and number were flashing on the screen and with a curse, McGarrett ended the call. “Damnit!”
Grace was staring at the phone and at her Father’s team in turn, biting her lip, eyes big and red. “Boss...” Kono stammered but Steve snarled, “We need to check his place out, now.”
They both nodded and Grace stared at him with those damn teary eyes and Steve sighed, “We’ll find him, don’t worry.”
Reluctant to let her out of his sight, especially when they had no idea what was going on, Steve placed a gentle hand on Grace’s shoulder and said, “You stay here with Kono, while Chin and I go look for your Dad...”
“I wanna stay with you.”
“Grace...”
“Danno said I should stay with you. Or Mom. Where’s Mom?” Grace was edging towards hysterical, and Kono smiled calmly at her. “Is your Mom with Stan? We can wait here for her, you and me.”
Grace was shaking her head though and edging towards Steve, grabbing the back of his jeans. “Mom’s with Stan, at a conference, they left this morning. I wanna find Dad...”
Time was too much of the essence, and Steve felt better having Grace within eyesight anyway so he sighed, “Kono. Stay here. See what you can get out of the driver. Chin and I will head over to Danny’s with Grace. We’ll try and get in touch with Rachel.”
Kono nodded, her expression as skeptical as McGarrett felt about taking an eleven year old to a potential crime scene, worse yet, that it would be at her father’s house. But if Danny was in trouble... he’d kick Steve’s ass so hard for putting his daughter in danger.... Shit. As the reality of the situation, the potential situation sunk in, Kono and Chin’s expression said it too, it was a bad idea.
“Sweetie, maybe it’d be better to stay here with Kono... “
“Is Danno in trouble?”
Tempted to lie, make it not so terrifying for the girl, Steve swallowed and said, “I don’t know, Grace. But Chin and I are going to find out. Stay with Kono, ok?” She wasn’t happy, not by a long shot but Grace nodded. “Ok. Dad said I’m not supposed to get in a car with you anyway. Ever.”
Steve smiled, resisted the urge to ruffle her hair, and nodded, “Probably right too. We’ll be back soon.” Grace nodded, quiet and scared, and so very different from her mouthy, loud and intense father. Pointing at Kono, Steve said stiffly, “And find out why they have the phone, yeah?”
Kono nodded and Steve and Chin ran for his truck, Steve sliding in behind the wheel, and slamming the door shut. Chin shot a concerned look at the bleeding wound on Steve’s leg but McGarrett shook his head. “It’ll keep, come on.”
The drive to Danny’s house was less hurried, less panicked, but no less intense. The possible answers waiting for them were potentially terrifying in their reality. Whilst Steve threaded through the late Saturday morning traffic, Chin tried to reach Rachel, but had to leave several voice mails. And without prompting, he put in a few calls with HPD, querying if any of their relatively short list of enemies were out on bail, or something. As a team, they had handled some pretty big cases but Danny hadn’t been on Hawaii long enough for the list to be impossible to check. But it didn’t have to be something about their cases. The perps had gone after Grace, so maybe it had something to do with Rachel or Stan, or anything....
Once Chin was done on the phone, silence fell on the small space inside the truck, Steve gripping the wheel with both hands and changing lanes rapidly. “The hotel concierge is going to try and get in touch with Rachel. There’s a do not disturb for the conference, but…”
“Yeah, she’d want to be disturbed,” Steve nodded fiercely, cutting off another couple dozen drivers as he screamed onto the bypass leading to Danny’s neck of Honolulu. The rest of the drive was filled with tense silence, as the heavy Saturday morning traffic of shoppers, tourists and those enjoying the day off made the trip longer and all the more stressful.
Finally, Danny’s small condo swam into view in the haze of the morning heat and Steve barely put the park brake on before running for the front door. “Camaro’s still here,” Chin pointed out unnecessarily, the sleek silver metal of the car shiny bright and conspicuous in the drive. The front door wasn’t jimmied, but both McGarrett and Ho Kelly had their guns drawn, game faces on as they opened the door.
Danny wasn’t a neat freak, but he sure as hell wasn’t a slob. His place didn’t look like it’d been ransacked but something had gone down. The bed was a tumble of sheets and pillows, the two chairs near the table knocked over, the soil from an upturned pot plant spilled over the floor. But there was no blood, and no tang of gunpowder in the close confines. “We need to get CSU down here, now. Looks like they took him last night.”
Chin nodded, checking the small kitchenette and sighing, “Neighbors would have called in gunshots or a ruckus, so it was quick.”
“And professional,” Steve nodded, slowly putting his gun away, and pulling out a pair of disposable gloves. Danny’s police issue sidearm was lying on the small, multicolored rug at the foot of the bed. McGarrett checked the clip and chamber. “He didn’t get a shot off, either way.”
Squinting a little at the bright sunlight from the half-shuttered blinds, Steve straightened with a small groan, feeling the pull of the wound, and growled, “We need to pull traffic cameras from this neighborhood, see if we can identify any suspicious vehicles.”
Chin nodded, and shot McGarrett a weary knowing look. Neither of them wanted to verbalize the fear that had blossomed into full blown panic. Danny had been taken in the night. Not early morning, as someone would have seen the attack. And after who knew how many hours, three men had come for Grace. That raised so many questions, it was scary in and of itself. Steve sighed, “Think they were taking Grace as leverage?”
Looking away, at the upturned bed and furniture, Chin shrugged, “Probably.” Unspoken was the understanding that Danny hadn’t given them what they wanted. Had been the stubborn mouthy SOB they knew and loved. And as much as that was a good thing, that Danny was alive, alive so that Grace could be used against him, it was a worry also. What had he endured to get to that stage, where the kidnappers were resorting to taking his little girl and threatening her?
“Maybe they are just pressed for time?” Chin offered, pulling out his phone to call in the CSU.
“Maybe,” McGarrett agreed, or maybe it just meant that they just didn’t have a lot of time to find Danny.
*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0
You see, the thing was, Danny was his own kind of tough. The scrappy kind. The underestimated kind. The New Jersey kind. The kind that carried a pair of knuckledusters and kicked you in the nads so they could reach your ugly mug and whale on you. That kind of tough.
Sure, Steve was all super-SEAL tough, with hardcore skills and a BAMF attitude, but Danny ... Danny had skills too. Not freaky ninja skills, but salt of the earth, school of hard knocks and rough streets skills.
But shit if right now, Danny didn’t wish he had some of Steve’s scary, military skills on enduring torture and pissing people off enough so that they just gave up and let you go.
Hell, he’d trade his tie in for one hair-brained, certain to cause heart-failure, poorly thought out but excellently executed rescue.
*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0*h*5*0
Continued in Part 2
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7