Lady Hawk (Hawaii Five-0)

[tari_roo]

Title: Lady Hawk
Author: tari_roo
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, not unless that different trouser leg of time thing kicks in. But if I did... Danny and Steve would banter - alot :)

Summary:  Catherine and Steve go on a long awaited date. Things are going well. This means that something bad is going to happen - it always does. Alas, Poor Catherine - having to save her man.

Warnings: Uhm... none really. No real spoilers, other than knowing who Catherine is. Written for saphirablue’s prompt onh50_gen prompt fest. Not betaed so all mistakes are Danny’s.


h50*h50*h50

The date was going well. And by well, it had not been derailed by a natural disaster, urgent Governor request or dramatic case - or a call from the Navy. The restaurant was off the tourist circuit, low key and elegant - a gem that only locals frequented and shimmered with an air of relaxed gourmet efficiency. Her meal was delicious, not overly spicy and cooked to perfection. The wine accompanying the meal was fresh, light and heady. The waiter was discrete and attentive.

And she had Steve’s undivided attention.

“Mr Roper? No way, Mr Furley was funnier, weirder, and had a face like rubber. There’s no comparison.”

“But with Mr Roper, we got Mrs Roper. And the Ropers as a team were comedy dynamite. Don Knotts was hilarious, I’ll give you that, but his routine and schtick got a little old.”

“What? Bumbling wannabees versus hapless comedy genius. No, you, you are insane, Catherine. Insane.”

Catherine smiled and sipped her wine, “Next you are going to start defending the Three Stooges, right?”

“Hey, hey that is a classic American comedy institution and you can’t knock an institution.”

“You can if its crap.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue further and paused, no doubt noticing her suppressed smile. He rolled his eyes and waved the waiter over, “You ready for dessert? Or you full up with all the BS?”

“My opinions are hardly BS, Steve, even if I do enjoy yanking your chain.” Catherine beamed at McGarrett as she took the dessert menu.  Something light and fruity sounded appealing and Catherine scanned the menu, bypassing the chocolate mousse, cakes and ice cream. “You don’t want anything?” she murmured at Steve.

Catherine looked up, as Steve ‘hmmmed?’ at her, his attention very much elsewhere. She looked over her shoulder and noted the three guys Steve was staring at. “Someone you know?”

McGarrett shook his head, “Maybe. Kinda hard to tell.” Catherine stared at him, eyes focused across the room, hands calm and relaxed on the table, but fidgeting with his phone. Sighing, Rollins pursed her lips and muttered, “Why do I think that this sticky rice and mango is a pipedream?”

“What? No, no. Order, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

The music overhead changed and Kamakawiwoʻole’s Hawai’i 78 came on and Catherine smiled, “I love this song.” McGarrett smiled back at her, his attention on her, and he took her hands, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand. “You still wanna order?”

Wrinkling her nose, Catherine smiled, “Nah, got a different dessert in mind. You?”

“Yep.”

To his credit, Steve kept the conversation going as he paid the bill, but Catherine noticed his occasional glance to the back of the restaurant, the odd tension in his frame. Once the waiter was out of ear shot, Catherine whispered, “Why don’t you call it in, just in case?”

Steve thinned his lips, and then sucked his bottom lip and grumbled, “Yeah, maybe. But a bunch of possible mainland mafia on vacation in Hawaii can wait until the morning. It’s not like they’re doing anything other than eating.”

“You sure?” Catherine said softly, hoping that tonight would end pleasantly and not with her alone in her hotel room while Steve chased down a possible lead.

“Positive.” Steve’s look was transparent and she laughed as he squeezed her hands. “Let’s get out of here, then.”

As they left the restaurant, McGarrett slipped a hand under her blouse and rested his cool palm on the small of her back. Catherine lent into the touch, and responded by tucking her hand into his back pocket, giving his awfully cute butt a squeeze. Given how distracted they both were (with each other) they could be forgiven for not noticing that they were being followed. Steve though did not forgive himself, in retrospect.

The night air was fresh, the sound of breakers a dull echo in the distance and the stars were bright overhead. A perfect night on a tropical island. Catherine had eyes only for Steve as he backed her up into his truck, and lent in for a kiss. The attack was swift, a rush of running feet and they both whirled to meet the threat. McGarrett automatically reached for his firearm, but he was a split second too slow. Three men (not the ones from inside) were pointing guns at them, at Steve mostly and they were far enough away that rushing them was risky.

“No, no, Commander, leave it. Hands on your head, now.” Their uniform dark suits screamed mob, although Catherine had thought that cliché long dead, a thing of the past and cheesy gangster movies.

With their attention on McGarrett, Catherine quickly scanned the immediate area, wondering, hoping someone was nearby, seeing this. Off the beaten track didn’t mean isolated but no one was passing by, no other patrons leaving the restaurant.

McGarrett was glowering at the men, weighing his options, but Catherine knew that even with his training and hers to a degree, it was better to comply and find an opening later. These guys were calm and collected, none of them exhibiting signs of nervousness or inexperience. Slowly Steve raised his hands, and put them on the back his head. “You too, lady!” Catherine was already obeying, eyes still primed for possible witnesses. A black van pulled up behind the men, and they waved Steve and her forward towards the vehicle. Glancing at Steve, who nodded minutely, Catherine obeyed and followed him . One of the gunmen stepped behind her and put his gun in the small of her back, and another did the same with Steve.

“One move, Commander and she dies. Got it?” Gunman number three said softly, remaining at a distance, no doubt keeping an eye on Steve, ensuring that if McGarrett tried something, he’d be in a position to act.

The van was brand spanking new, uncluttered and polished, still had that brand new car smell. Catherine clambered into the van after Steve, and she was waved to sit behind the driver. Steve was muscled into the back, two guns trained on him. The van door slammed shut, burying the van in darkness, the glow of ambient light from outside barely visible. But Catherine found Steve’s face and shot him a small, reassuring smile. Alas, he did not return it. He looked furious, poised to strike, but he flicked a look of understanding at her. Wait.

It wasn’t a long drive, fairly short maybe a couple of blocks, which was good news as it meant the search area would be smaller. The van stopped and the door was hauled open, and they were both ordered out. A large colonial style bungalow loomed off to the right, most of the lights inside on, a quiet tense atmosphere in the surrounds. One the gunmen pulled Steve’s hands behind his back and slipped a plastic tie over them. Catherine though was simply relieved of her clutch bag and shoved in the direction of the house, her stilettos echoing on the stone path.

The bungalow was gorgeous, full of soft wood furnishings, cream and white highlights accented with the odd splash of colour, the whole place radiating a warm glow, with clean, beautiful lines and what must have been a gorgeous view in the day of the ocean and mountains. A massive deck extended out from the main room, and there was a reflection pool at the end of the deck, the water dark and unlit.

“Take care of her,” one man snapped and for a split second Catherine’s heart climbed into her mouth, and she saw Steve tense, and prep to launch an attack no matter how ineffective to defend her. But all ‘taking care of her’ entailed was being shoved into a fancy looking guest bathroom. They locked the door, and then Catherine was left alone.

She stood stock still for several seconds, listening, straining to hear ... anything. Whatever was happening though, it was too quiet, or too far away. “Right, right,” she muttered to herself. Shoving aside the emotions surging within her, locking away the worry and fear for Steve, Catherine studied the room, looking for something, anything that could help.  “Start thinking, Rollins.”

The bathroom was small, limited to an ornate basin, vanity stand and mirror, and a toilet. No bath, no shower, just a fancy European square bowl toilet, and a lot of high end finishings. First order of business though was to check for any potential chemical agents. The vanity stand only had a small cupboard, and it was pretty damn quick searching it - and come up empty. No cleaners, no detergents, nothing with ammonia, acid or bleach. A liquid soap dispenser was her only find.

Sighing, Catherine sat down on the closed toilet lid and kicked off her shoes. She wasn’t out of options, not by far, but a chemical toxic spray would have been handy. The tiles were cool under her bare feet and Catherine took a second to listen, ascertain what she could of what was happening outside. There were muted voices, muffled by walls and distance, but she couldn’t tell what was happening. Ignoring the worry that nagged at her, Catherine kicked her shoes over to one side and made her way to the door.

The lock was an old fashioned one, not electronic or multiple tumbler. Just a nice ornate, not really designed to hold anyone captive for long, type of lock. Excellent news for Catherine. Squatting down to peer under the door, Catherine smiled. There was a good gap between door and floor tile, enough for her to note that there was no guard posted outside the room. She retrieved a large wad of TP, and arrayed it in as flat a matt type arrangement as she could, and after another quick look, slipped it underneath the door. One long hair pin would hopefully be strong enough, and Catherine inserted it into the keyhole, wiggling it to dislodge the key on the otherside.

The key was momentarily stubborn, but did not resist for too long and fell out of the keyhole. The resulting ‘thud’ as it landed on the floor outside was hopefully muted and additionally, Catherine hoped, unseen by anyone walking past. Crossing her fingers metaphorically, Catherine slowly pulled the TP back into the bathroom, hoping the key would fit under the door and stay on the TP.

“Thank you, MacGyver,” Catherine smiled as the key appeared, nestled in a mess of double ply. The door wouldn’t hold a serious assault for long, but at least now she had some warning before someone tried to enter, and well, more importantly, a way out.

Tucking her shoes quickly behind the toilet bowl, for retrieval later, Catherine flattened herself against the wall and as quietly as possible, opened the door, just a crack. The increased view of the outside revealed exactly what she hoped. An empty hallway. With the door open, the murmur of voices was louder, but still indistinct. Judging by the location though, it seemed everyone was on the deck - hopefully everyone included all potential bad guys and an alive Steve.

Double checking, Catherine quietly slipped out of the bathroom, key in hand, and closed the door. Shooting a cautious glance behind her, she locked the door and moved away from the voices, deck and large open lounge area.

All she needed was a phone. Preferably hers, but any would do. Unfortunately, the hallway was bereft of telephones and the rather wide and open space leading away from the lounge area was heading towards either bedrooms or a kitchen.

A kitchen.

Alas, the kitchen was not empty. As Catherine peered into the room, keeping herself as flat to the wall as she could, she spotted a man hunched over the counter, eating. His suit jacket was draped over the chair, and his shoulder holster was visible, but appeared empty. His attention was focused on the food, but Catherine quickly scanned the room for potential reflections that might betray her and a phone. There was a phone, a wall unit near the fridge but it was too far into the room and he’d notice if she tried to sneak in and reach it.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching ended any deliberation and Catherine surged forward, bare feet practically inaudible on the wooden floor. The guy turned nonetheless, either at the sound of her approach or the heavier footsteps. Leaning into it, Catherine punched him before the surprise could register, the shock of the blow racing up her arm.

The momentum knocked the guy back into his food, some sort of pasta she noted, but certainly didn’t knock him out, not that she expected it to. Closing the distance, getting inside his reach unfortunately, Catherine elbowed him in the nose as he surged back, slightly disoriented but mad as hell. His nose exploded in a spray of blood, some of it spotting her arm, and Catherine reached up for her true intention - the meat tenderiser. Who on earth hung a meat tenderiser up with the strainers, ladles and whisks, she didn’t know - but hooray for her.

Her time running out, as the approaching men would be in eye shot soon, and were probably already hearing the commotion, Catherine whirled to escape, heading for the phone. Blindly reaching out with a strangled cry, the guy grabbed her arm, thick fingers tight and hard, yanking her towards him. Risking a glance at the doorway and feeling her heart spike with adrenalin as she saw the silhouette of two, not one, approaching men - rapidly approaching, Catherine backhanded the man holding her - with the meat tenderiser. He went down with the thud, falling off his chair in the process - and letting her go.

Turning to run, Catherine spotted something black on the counter - near the upturned spaghetti and grabbed it, heading away from the approaching men. The short passage emptied out into a dining room with thick wall to floor windows and Catherine figured the fancy bungalow was mostly open plan, the first floor centered by a guest bathroom and flight of stairs up to the second floor. There was no time to appreciate the architecture though.

The black object was alas, not a gun, but was the next best thing. An unlocked cellphone. Shooting a hurried glance behind her, and noting the running figure pursuing her, Catherine dialled 911, even as she ran around the dining table and out the other side of the room.

“911, what is...”

“Lieutenant Catherine Rollins. Trace this call, send response cars. Commander Garrett of Five 0 is in need of immediate assistance. Now!”

Six seconds. She hoped HPD Dispatch was on the ball.

Not even bothering to end the call, Catherine listened for the sound of someone about to reach her and dropped, twisting as she did. She threw the cellphone at the man behind her, and then kicked out, as she hit the floor.

Her aim was a little off, but the sharp kick to his knees was enough to knock him off balance. Caught off guard by both the flying cellphone and her sudden drop, the new guy stumbled forward and crashed to his knees. The angle was wrong, not nearly sharp enough to make this count, but Catherine swung the tenderiser at his head, hoping to make the glancing blow as hard as possible.

Luckily he turned, probably to find her, and the metal hammer caught him square on the jaw. He fell to the floor, stunned and Catherine scrambled to her feet, glancing around for signs of more pursuit. Before she could even think about looking for his gun, she spotted another man running towards her, with his own gun out. Well aware that she was now heading towards more danger - as she was heading towards the deck and lounge area, Catherine pushed hard to put some distance between her and the gunman, ignoring his cry to stop.

As Catherine entered the room, she caught a brief glimpse of the deck, several men standing around, staring at her as she ran past and one Steve McGarrett tied to a chair. Ignoring that happy sight for now, Catherine ran for the front door, wishing briefly she’d worn a less form fitting dress as she lengthened her stride. Oh, for a knife and the chance to make a homemade slit.

The glass window on her right exploded before she heard the gunshot, but she didn’t stop, the front door beckoning her on. When the window on her left, directly left of the door shattered with the next shot, she pulled up, sharply and stopped. For half a second, Catherine thought about running, back towards the kitchen, to keep up the chase, just a little bit longer, to buy them both some time, but the gunman behind her growled, “Don’t even think about, sweetheart.”

It took a second, and only a second, but with her heart climbing out of her chest with worry and fear, that second felt like a month, but Catherine swore she knew that voice. Slowly, because he told her too and well, she was a little stunned herself now, she turned around - and stared at the rather surprised Danny Williams.

Fortunately her brain was working fast enough that she only mouthed ‘Danny?’ at him, rather than let out a shriek of glee tinged ‘what the hell?’ And just as fortunately, his brain was working too, because he mouthed ‘Catherine?’ with an expression dripping with confusion. He shot a look behind him, checking on the men outside and she saw the blood drain out of his face when he saw Steve.

“Shit,” he hissed, turning back to her, eyes wide, gun still pointed at her.

Mind racing, Catherine checked the entrance to the kitchen, hoping to high hell no one would hear and she hissed back at him, “You got backup?”

He nodded, looking sick and furious, and growled back at a volume barely audible, “Yes! Mr Tied Up over there! He’s supposed to be outside on stake out!”

Catherine blinked, trying to process that and mumbled to herself, “He said he swopped with Chin... in order to take me out.”

They both looked out at the shattered window, the general direction of ‘Chin’ and frowned. If Chin was out there as Danny’s back up... why was there no response team slash back up slash Kono and Chin rescue party currently assaulting the bungalow.

Or maybe it was just imminent...

“Delgado! You strip searching her or something? Get over here!”

Danny grimaced, and waved her closer. Catherine quietly dropped the tenderiser, thanking Danny’s lucky stars that he hadn’t come at her before and gotten a face full of hammer, but she had grown quite fond of the metal thing in the space of five minutes. Danny whispered to her, “Either Chin’s waiting for backup, asleep or ... but just play along, ok?”

Catherine slowly raised her hands, and rolled her eyes. Looking over his shoulder at the deck, she saw Steve, and shit, did he look furious. Blinking at Danny, Catherine muttered, barely moving her mouth, “Slip me a knife.”

His ‘huh?’ was visible, but not audible and Catherine replied with ‘hurry up’ motions with her eyes. Rolling his eyes now, Danny moved forward as if to frisk her and awkwardly patted her one handed, his cheeks colouring a little bit. Catherine tried not to smirk, and put on what she hoped was a mildly terrified look. Her terrified turned into horrified as Danny copped a feel of her breasts and if she hadn’t felt him slip something down her cleavage, she’d have ... well, squawked in outrage.

Danny’s smirk was oddly pleased and he waved her forward, grunting like a good henchman.

The three guys who had grabbed her and Steve were on the deck with a fourth man, who had the suit and presence of the man in charge. None of them looked too happy and Catherine hoped that they weren’t suspicious of how long it had taken Danny to bring her over.

Head Honcho looked irritated rather than irate, and snarled at Danny, “Next time take your time, moron. It’s not like we got forever here.”

Danny nodded in apology but did not look sheepish or abashed. Rather than think this odd, the guy stepped forward and casually backhanded Catherine across the face. The blow was hard, and rattled her a little, but Catherine stood her ground and stared angrily back at him, wanting to touch her face, but not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

The guy glared at her and growled, “Trust McGarrett to have a feisty broad as a date. You like ‘em spunky, Commander?”

Steve, typically, had reacted to the blow by snarling and pulling on his bounds. He didn’t look too bad, a couple of open cuts from punches and blows on his face. They hadn’t exactly had time to get more creative. Steve though did not launch into the usual cliché about ‘if you touch her....’ Instead he said, calmly and forcefully, “You’re just digging yourself into an even bigger hole, Barkell. Now you’re adding kidnapping and assault to an already long charge sheet. Between Homeland Security and the FBI, you’re never seeing daylight again.”

One the thugs next to Steve punched him in the face, rocking his head back, tipping the chair a little with the force of it. Steve was awfully close to the edge of the pool, whether deliberately or accidently. Staring at Catherine, Barkell snorted, “Oh, I don’t know McGarrett. Burglars come in all shapes and sizes. Who’s to say you and this ... lovely lady weren’t caught breaking into my home, and were shot as intruders. All perfectly... reasonable.”

Steve returned the snort, keeping his eyes on the back of Barkell’s head, avoiding Catherine’s gaze. “Only if you’re a grade A nimrod.”

Barkell turned on his heel and tilted his head as he looked at Steve. “How about this, McGarrett. You start talking and tell me who the mole in my organisation is or...”

On cue, the tall besuited man on her lef, raised his gun to Catherine’s head and clicked off the safety. On her other side, Danny did the same. Out of the corner of her eye, Catherine noted that the angle of Danny’s gun was wrong, or rather spot on - for shooting the guy on her left. But they were still outnumbered, Steve kinda tied up, and her... with maybe a knife in her bosom, or maybe something Danny thought would be helpful.

Steve was not looking at Danny and Danny was not looking at Steve. Catherine though had no such issues and was looking at everyone. Time was running out, both for the HPD back up she’d called and Chin, wherever he was. But knowing Steve and Danny, they were both planning something ridiculous and self-sacrificing. Well, at least Steve probably was - Danny was perhaps cursing Steve royally and rehearsing his lecture about poorly planned undercover ops. Catherine knew she was.

Not happy with Steve’s sullen silence, Barkell hissed, “It’s either her life or the mole’s, McGarrett, I...”

With timing the Gods of Timing would envy, Chin and his assault team launched their attack, the front door flying open, and black clad SWAT team members emerging from the greenery around the house.

The air filled with shouts of ‘Freeze’, ‘No Body Move,’ and ‘HPD!’ but Catherine was watching Barkell, the narrowing of his eyes worrying her. Not nearly as surprised as he should have been, Barkell drew his own gun and Catherine was running before she finished the thought, ‘Oh, shit.’

Behind her, chaos erupted and she heard two gunshots, hopefully Danny hitting his target and the other guy missing. She hit Barkell hard, hard enough to mess up his shot, but not enough to stop it. Between the roar in her head and her heart thudding like a mad thing, Catherine didn’t hear the shot, but oh boy, did she see it.

It hit Steve, somewhere and knocked him, chair and all, backwards into the pool. Shoving Barkell and ignoring the shouts and screams, Catherine dived into the pool after him.

The water was warm, and clear - but there were no lights, the depths instantly plunged into darkness. The rational part of Catherine’s brain knew that Steve could hold his breath for a long time, hell, for ages, but between the surprise, gun shot and well... being tied up, his ability/skill would be compromised and she had no idea how bad he was hit.

Kicking hard, Catherine followed the stream of bubbles and disturbed water, down after Steve, quickly reaching him as he settled onto the bottom of the pool.

Through the gloom, she could see his eyes, and struggles to free himself, so fortunately he was still conscious. He was tied both hands and feet to the chair, so they had probably intended on drowning him anyway. Her own chest already tight and burning, Catherine grabbed his arm and pulled herself closer, fumbling with her other hand for the knife.

Even though Catherine expected it, and fully understand why it was difficult between the water and her brain screaming for oxygen, it took a while to find the knife that had slipped down underneath her left breast.

All she needed to do was free one of his hands and Steve could take care of the rest. This was actually something he’d trained for.

Lungs aching with the need for air, Catherine flipped open the little knife and started cutting the plastic tie nearest her. Steve had stopped struggling and was sitting patiently waiting for her, conserving his energy and oxygen. It was difficult to tell in the dark water but he didn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere. But in all honesty, even if he was, the blood might be lost in the gloom.

The second Catherine was through the first tie, Steve moved, taking the blade from her and started working on his other hand.   Catherine paused, watching, concerned and not really wanting to leave him alone. But he needed help, and it was better that she get more oxygen now.

Kicking hard, pushing for that air, Catherine burst through the surface, and gulped in a couple of desperate breaths. As she blinked away the water falling into her eyes, she squinted at the blurry figures around her, lots of people moving, shooting. She caught a brief glimpse of Danny rolling on the deck with someone, slugging away at them... Barkell maybe.

She couldn’t tell who was winning - the good guys or the bad guys, but either way, Catherine needed to check on Steve. So she gulped in a breath and headed down towards him, fully expecting to meet him coming up.

Surprisingly, Steve was still in the chair, hunched over his arm. A spike of adrenaline fuelled fear surged through Catherine and she swam faster, reaching him and running her hands over his skin. He stirred, sluggishly and blinked up at her. His right hand was still tied, but the plastic was half severed. The knife though was lying on the bottom, glinting dully in the half-light. Panicking a little, Catherine reached for it, knocking Steve a little as she did.

The knife felt smooth under her hand and she snatched it up quickly, and fumbling a little as she started cutting his right hand free. It didn’t take long, and Catherine ignored the need to check on him and pushed herself down to start on his feet. Already her lungs were burning again, and Catherine fought her own instincts to go for air, and focused on freeing Steve. His sluggishness was very worrying.

Using Steve’s weight to anchor her, Catherine quickly cut both of his legs free, nearly cutting her thumb in the process. Once both legs were loose, Steve gave a half-hearted push out of the chair, but didn’t seem entirely with it.

Catherine grabbed his arm and pulled, wrapping her arms around his chest as they rose, kicking hard, her chest, legs and arms burning with the effort. It was tough swim, but eventually they both broke the surface, and Catherine sucked in a lungful of air. Steve coughed and spluttered next to her, awkwardly trying to keep them afloat, but mostly just breathing.

In the minute that they had been under, affairs topside had been settled, in HPD’s favour. Danny was poised on the edge of the pool, caught mid step to diving in after them, and he windmilled briefly before hurrying over to help Catherine. “Is he hit?”

“He’s just fine, Danny,” Steve spluttered, gaining a little life now that Williams was here. Catherine though said very loudly, and clearly, especially for any potential paramedics nearby, “Yes, he is hit. And half drowned. And beat up.”

Danny stood and yelled in a fair imitation of a foghorn, “Medic!”

Steve muttered to her, “Traitor.” But he yelled back at Danny, “Stop watching Saving Private Ryan without me!”

Together, Steve and Catherine made it to the edge and Danny leant down to help them out. “Only you turn a date into a SWAT operation, Stephen.”

“Oh, bite me,” Steve grumbled as Danny hauled him up on the deck, his soaked grey shirt unable to hide the now dark, bloodied patch on his shoulder.  Leaving Steve to lie on the deck, happily breathing, Danny helped Catherine out, so that she stood on the deck, creating a mini-pool of her own around her feet. “Thanks.”

She was a little surprised when Danny enveloped her in a brief, but firm hug before breaking off, to  wave the paramedics over. Someone draped a blanket over her shoulders and Catherine found herself a few moments later sitting on a deck chair, watching HPD wrap up the scene and the paramedics tend to Steve.  Danny was hovering between the two of them, letting the paramedics work, but otherwise keeping tabs on the progress of the officers.

Curious, Catherine studied the group for Chin and Kono, who should be here... well, shouldn’t they? And yes, they were. Chin was talking rapidly to the SWAT Captain, his face and arms animated, clearly not happy. Kono was talking on the phone, her expression less serious, more resigned. Noticing her attention, Danny ambled closer but still close enough to see what was happening with Steve and said, “Chin called in SWAT the second you and Steve arrived. The whole thing took, what... fifteen minutes? How the hell were they supposed to know you were gonna break out and cause havoc.”

A little hurt, Catherine stared at Danny, who waved his hands in reassurance, “No, no. They’re not blaming you... ok, SWAT is, but we aren’t - I’m not. Hell, who knows what Barkell would have done before SWAT decided to show up? I didn’t even know Steve was here until you started running around.”

Tired, but glad Danny was at least honest with her, Catherine sighed, “What the hell are you doing here anyway?”

Danny shrugged, and looked a bit embarrassed. “Kinda helping HPD out last minute. Steve wasn’t very happy, but they needed a haole cop not too familiar with the islands to play local muscle. I fit the bill, and McGarrett insisted Five-0 keep watch. I was assigned to guard Barkell’s daughter, she keeps trying to run away - go figure.”

“Ah,” Catherine said, yawning as the last fifteen minutes caught up with her. That and the long tour of duty she was supposed to be on leave from. She wanted to ask why they’d grabbed McGarrett and how they knew HPD had planted a mole in the security and a whole of crap she should be interested in... but wasn’t. Instead, she sat quietly, watching the paramedics try to convince Steve his injury was serious and not something he could ‘take care of later’.

That was a bit unusual for Steve, who was tough but not stupid, so Catherine yelled, “Hey, I’m fine. Quit being a jackass.”

Steve turned awkwardly, the medics trying to keep him still and he studied her carefully, trying to ascertain that for himself. Catherine smiled, “It’s not even my worst date, Steve. In the top five, sure, but not my worst.”

Danny stared at her, but Steve grinned, well aware of what her ‘worst’ date was.

“Thanks,” Steve smiled at her and Catherine smiled back.

“Happy? Good. Now let them work,” Danny exclaimed, pointing an imperious finger at Steve. Catherine resisted the urge to mock salute Williams in reply.

Steve subsided with a shit-eating grin, and Danny sat down on the deck chair beside her. “Thanks.” Catherine shrugged, “It’s not like I could have just waited in the bathroom.” Danny nodded, and said, “You could have, but... yeah, you wouldn’t. Anyway, just glad you were here.”

The stars overhead were lost in long hanging cloud that had appeared rapidly, and the lights from the police cars were painting the night sky in reds and blues. Shivering a little, Catherine tugged the blanket closer and Danny dropped an arm around her,  pulling her closer. It was nice, sitting there, fresh from action, high on success and relief, the simple comfort of an arm around you. Catherine snuggled closer and sighed softly, “So, you gonna tell Steve you molested me?”

Danny tensed momentarily, and then relaxed, leaning into her shoulder, “Nah, he’s had a rough night. I’d hate to have to make him get up and defend your honour.”

“Kay,” Catherine smiled, and Danny shot her a cheeky grin.

Not the best date, but certainly a memorable one.

Fin

AN: I have been wracking my brain (and not bothering to interweb it) trying to remember if Danny and Catherine have ‘actually’ met on screen and couldn’t recall but I’m making that they have and it makes sense that they have and if some reason they haven’t on screen... well, now they have. J

Also, I have not had so much trouble with a short fic like I have with this one. First Catherine wanted to build a homemade chemical bomb or noxious gas but I finally convinced her that the fumes or explosion would hurt her first. The, she wanted Black Widow style moves and to fight five guys at once but I had to explain that such a fight scene was beyond my writing ability. In the end, I had to go get Danny to help reign the Bamf!Cath in, and luckily gwalchmai345 had left a prompt with Danny and Catherine, so I got my shoe horn out... and voila - finished fic.

Hope you like saphirablue - Catherine wants to a lot more badass than I’d let her. And gwalchmai345... you got half a prompt thrown in :