The Hands of Time

Written by AS

If the hands of time were hands that I could hold,
I’d keep them warm and in my hands, They'd not turn cold.

Until the hands of time would choose to wave good-bye!
‘Brian’s Song (The Hands of Time)’ by Michael LeGrande and Alan & Marilyn Bergman

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Heading into the Palace, McGarrett couldn’t stop the sidelong glances he shot towards Williams. Relief? That was a mild word to describe how he felt. From the moment he had first realized that Dan was missing through to discovering that it was Wo Fat behind the disappearance, a sick sense of fear had filled McGarrett. Having previously been a guest of the master spy himself, he knew what the Oriental was capable of in the torture department. Concern for his second in command had made the disappearance a priority and McGarrett had easily shoved any other open investigations aside as he concentrated on the search. Tipped off on a possible hiding place, Steve had sped over to the vacant warehouse, barely taking the time to call HPD to provide back up. Pleased when he noticed that Sgt. Duke Lukela headed the backup team, he stormed the door and discovered a musty, deserted building. Hopelessness filling him at the thought that they had been outwitted by the spy, his mood soared when Duke yelled that he had found Danny.

Rushing to the room where he heard the voice, McGarrett thought that his heart had leaped from his chest when he saw the Hawaiian policeman kneeling next to what appeared to be an inert lump. He’d again experienced the palpable fear that he always did whenever something happened to his second in command. But the anxiety had turned to elation upon discovering that there was nothing seriously wrong with the detective. Temporarily unconscious when they had stormed the building, Dan had woken up at the rescue and adamantly insisted he was completely fine.

Duke helped the detective to rise and Steve was, at first, alarmed by how shaky his friend seemed. But then their eyes had met and his worry was washed away by the younger man’s expression – the way it so frequently was. Coming up next to his friend, Steve pointed out the dirty yet minor cut on his forehead but Williams had again asserted he was well.

Although in the back of Dan’s mind was a thought that he couldn’t find the words for, an impression that there was something he needed to warn McGarrett about but he just wasn’t sure. He put it out of his mind for the moment, knowing that he could ponder it more back at the Palace. He wouldn’t mention it to Steve just yet. Not until he was certain.

On the way out to the car, McGarrett voiced his wish that Danny go to the hospital. Dan’s persistent argument against the trip as well as Steve’s need to have everything normal in his world again allowed Williams to convince the boss that the trip was unneeded. McGarrett ended up closing the discussion with a vow that he was going to take a look at the cut once they were back at the office to make sure it really wasn’t serious. Dan’s only reply had been a sigh of surrender and a roll of his eyes, exasperated by the over protectiveness of his boss.

Moving next to him now as they practically jogged up the stairs to the Five-O offices, Steve knew he probably needed to take a moment to be grateful that the worst had been avoided. Yet the complete normalcy of what was currently happening made him nearly forget about the earlier scare.

After a quick summarization in McGarrett’s office of all that had happened that day, the team broke up, each member heading out with a specific task as the cases that had been pushed aside were now brought back to focus. Important duties were pushed aside while they had searched for the missing officer and all knew that they needed to solve their other cases expediently.

Steve turned to Dan, aware that he needed to get more details of Dan’s story of what had happened over the last several days. It was a subject they hadn’t dwelled on with the others in the office. Keeping any debriefings between the two of them was another of the little ways that McGarrett tried to protect his second in command whenever something happened. Although it wasn’t necessary or something that Williams even expected, Steve’s keeping of the information private was his way of making up for whatever failure he saw in his inability to have prevented whatever happened to his friend.

The phone buzzed loudly as McGarrett continued to stare at Williams. Somehow he kept thinking that he was missing something. That maybe there was something he should say. Some deep revelation or emotional breakthrough. He knew better. The chances of that happening…well, he knew it would have to be something completely horrifying that would rip every ounce of control he had away for that to happen. He hadn’t lost his control, lowered his walls completely, in years. He had once vowed to never get close to anyone again. Yet the younger detective in front of him had easily gotten under his skin. Even so, McGarrett knew that such a revelation was patently unnecessary. His second in command accepted him for the way he was, shortcomings and all, without asking for explanations. Frequently offering them whenever he thought the boss was plagued by a brief bout of self-doubt. It was one of the reasons why Steve had found their ever-developing friendship so comfortable and non-intrusive.

Spinning around he grabbed the handset. “McGarrett,” He barked in his usual authoritative tone.

“Steve, its Jenny. Don’t forget you’re supposed to be meeting with the governor and Manicote in a few minutes.”

“Ahhhh, yes, Jenny, thank you.”

He hung up the phone and as he turned to leave his office he caught sight of Dan rubbing his arm. Although not an uncommon motion, the gesture caused Steve to question whether or not Danny was feeling well.

“What?” Danny looked up, confused but unwilling to admit that he hadn’t heard his boss. The look he saw on the person who now rapidly approached him made his response easy. “Oh yeah, sorry, Steve, I’m fine. Just sore. Don’t worry about it.” Williams saw the apprehension on McGarrett’s face and sighed a little. “Believe me, Steve, I’m fine. Now you’re going to be late.”

Although it was a distinct possibility that there really was nothing wrong, McGarrett’s instinct told him to err on the side of caution. If he had the time, he probably would have bundled his detective over to either Bergman’s lab or Queens Medical Center. But, as it was, he was going to be late unless he ran over to the governor’s office. He reached out and grasped his detective’s arm, leading him towards the white couch against the wall. Before Danny could offer protest, Steve gripped his arm tighter.

“Look, humor me.” For a moment, his eyes bored into Dan’s as if to convey a thought, a message that he was unable to verbalize. “A lot has happened over the last couple of days but you’re right - I’m late. And even though we know who’s really the boss, I need to at least let Jameson think he is.” His smile was a little forced along with the humor. “So just stay here and rest for a bit, OK?”

Giving a short nod and not reacting at all to McGarrett’s unusual joke, Williams sank onto the couch as McGarrett turned and hurriedly left the office. Pausing by his secretary’s desk, he glanced back at his now closed door.

“Jenny, Danno’s in my office. See that he isn’t disturbed.”

“Sure, Boss. Everything OK?”

“Yeah, yeah. No need to worry. I’ll be with the governor.”

*****

Danny leaned his head against the back of the coach and sighed as he heard the outer office door shut. His outwardly stern boss could be so atypically overprotective at times! His own stubborn resolve would not let him admit to a confusing mix of events deep inside himself, yet somehow McGarrett had seemed to sense them. Even now Williams couldn’t quite banish a strange, tingling sensation that seemed to accompany flares of dizziness. Why couldn’t he remember the cause? Or when it had started? He knew the strange numbness in his arm had been present on the way back from the warehouse. Maybe he should have said something to McGarrett – not fought Steve’s inclination to pack him off to Bergman’s ministrations. Danny closed his eyes and willed the oddities to leave. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck again at Queens and he knew well that that was exactly what the coroner/Five-O physician would do. A disturbing image filled his sub-conscious…

He felt hands holding him still no matter how hard he fought. Saw the light as it blocked him from making out his surroundings or identifying anyone else in the room. Shivered as his skin chilled when he identified the sinister laugh of someone hiding behind the light. “Wo Fat!” He hissed as he struggled to catch his breath. “Too chicken to show yourself as always.” From out of nowhere a fist connected with his face and he was abruptly let go, crashing to the floor as the side of his head connected with something, a desk or chair, as he went down. Seconds passed before he was grabbed and dragged to his feet, this time to find himself directly in front of the Chinese spy.

“Mr. Williams, as always, your all too brief visits are such a delight. Although it appears as if you do not share that sentiment. Such a pity!”

Wo Fat appeared to nod at someone behind Dan before reaching into the light. Danny felt his arm grabbed and the sleeve of his dress shirt was pushed up and secured by a rope or some other kind of tight band. He struggled to free his arms but met with little success.

“I do believe though that my enjoyment of our time is about to come to an end – permanently. You see, the time has come for me to exact payment for all the trouble McGarrett has caused me. And I’ve decided that there is no better payment than your life where he is concerned.”

“You’ll never get away with any of your schemes. Steve’s better than you, Wo Fat!” Danny felt a prick in his arm. “Hey ouch! What…?”

Uncharacteristically wanting this moment for himself, Wo Fat had reached for a syringe and inserted the needle into Dan’s outstretched arm near the elbow. He plunged down on the pusher and injected the liquid into the vein then withdrew the needle in one fluid motion. His smooth voice was coldly calculating.

“Not this time, my young friend. You see by the time Steve realizes what is happening there will be little he can do to reverse the trend and you will be irreversibly on your way to a painful death.”

“What…?” Having felt the liquid flowing through his vein, Danny was surprised by the numbness that quickly filled his arm and moved up to his shoulder. He staggered a little as his legs felt weak. His body not responding to what his brain was telling it, he wondered at what devilment Wo Fat had tried this time.

“Poison, Mr. Williams. But this is a very unusual, even special kind of poison! Quick to initiate itself but slow to finish its task. It has no antidote, I assure you so McGarrett can search all he wants –as we know he will - but he won’t find it. Eventually though he will realize that all he can do is watch as you slowly succumb to it, as your body shuts down and you choke to death no matter what he does.”

Danny was horrified. This could not be happening!! He wanted to move but couldn’t. Never felt his body as those who had held him tight suddenly released him and he fell to the ground. He had to beat this! Not let what Wo Fat claimed happen. Somehow…his eyes closed and his world darkened.

Danny’s eyes opened and he fuzzily looked around the room, wondering where he was. Steve? Where was Steve? He had to warn him. Steve would know what to do. From out of the fog he heard a door open, saw a shadow bend over him and a voice that was higher than Wo Fat’s comment as to the warmth in the room. His vision blurred and his eyes closed again as the door was opened and then the room, except for the occasional noise from traffic below, grew quiet again.

*****

McGarrett strolled back from the governor’s office at a more leisurely pace than he had before. The meeting with Jameson had taken longer than expected but Steve hadn’t minded that much. All was well in his world again. Williams was back at the Palace and appeared to be in good health considering who had taken him. Although McGarrett still didn’t understand the reasoning behind snatching his second in command, he was almost willing to not worry about it as much as normal. He also wasn’t as upset at losing the fat, Chinese spy like he usually was whenever the slippery spy got away from him. Danno was back and that was the bottom line.

As far as he was aware there were no political or diplomatic visitors headed towards the islands, which might have prompted the spy’s visit. He knew he would need to investigate the motives soon but was willing to take at least a few minutes to not only acknowledge the beauty around him but also to be grateful for the satisfying end to a game with unknown rules. Then again, Wo Fat had never found it necessary to abide by standard rules.

As he walked through the Palace gardens and past the bandstand, he couldn’t help but think back on the seemingly easy rescue of Dan. The tip had been phoned in to HPD and they hadn’t been able to trace it. No one else had been in the building. He swallowed down the small knot of fear as he remembered how he’d thought it had been a ruse, preferring to concentrate on how he’d felt when Duke had found Danno. How relieved he had been to find that his officer was safe. How unlike Wo Fat to have the ability to strike at him with the worst blow imaginable and not take advantage of the opportunity. He stopped dead and stood still as several tourists were forced to make their way around him. How unlike Wo Fat indeed!!

He raised his head and eyed the building that was truly his home, easily finding the window of his office and the small lanai on the other side. The makings of a thought too awful to consider entered his mind. Suddenly minutes seemed to matter and he was desperate to reach the Palace. Steve broke into a jog maneuvering around the others on the sidewalk as they leisurely strolled along. He had to get to his office. The rescue of Dan had been too easy. The seemingly uneventful encounter with the Chinese spy…Or maybe…

He barely slowed as he burst through the door of the Palace and then ran up the stairs nearly three at a time. Heading down the hall towards the Five-O suite, Steve strode through the outer offices now anxious to check on his second in command. While with the governor, his mind had been partially focused back here at his office. As he now quickly reviewed details about Williams’ return he became concerned that all was not well when they had returned and he remembered that Danny hadn’t seemed to be acting right. Scenes replayed themselves in his mind and he finally realized that Dan had stumbled on his way up the stairs and then appeared to reach for the doorknob but missed it completely. Yet all had seemed normal when the team had gathered in McGarrett’s office for a briefing. Sure that his imagination had slipped into overdrive because of the extreme events, his mind was now singularly focused on getting inside his office.

“Steve!”

The exaggerated whisper made him pause and he turned to look in the secretary’s direction.

“He’s asleep. I just checked on him a little bit ago.”

McGarrett gave a brief nod. “Thanks, Jenny.”

Starting forward again, his progress was halted by his secretary.

“I opened the lanai door a little.” At McGarrett’s puzzled expression, she continued. “Your office was a bit stuffy. Danny was even sweating a little.”

Steve didn’t reply but nodded his head and moved towards the door.

Opening the office door, his eyes automatically sought out the figure that was still on the sofa. Head back, body still, eyes closed – Williams appeared to not have moved since Steve left the office. After his ordeal, McGarrett knew his friend had to be exhausted and he did not even know all the details of what had happened yet. He sighed in an effort to calm himself. All was well. Automatically nudging the door closed with his foot, McGarrett headed for his desk as the door slammed rather loudly behind him. The noise caused him to instantly glance towards his friend and he was relieved to see that it had not disturbed Dan.

Sitting down behind his desk, he started to open the first file but then stopped and slowly raised his head towards the couch. The slamming of the door should have woken Danno yet in fact he hadn’t even stirred. The hair began to stand up on the back of Steve’s neck. He stared at Williams. Was that blood he saw just under Dan’s nose? McGarrett shook his head. Couldn’t be. But…

Steve rose and moved over near Dan. Yeah, that looked like blood. It wasn’t left over from ill treatment by Wo Fat! It hadn’t been there earlier. McGarrett was positive he would have noticed if it had been. Its presence would have propelled him to pack his friend off to the hospital no matter who he had a meeting with. He reached out a finger and touched it, jerking away when he was able to smear it and then had a small drop dribble onto his finger. It was fresh blood! He gasped.

“Danno, wake up.” Steve spoke a little louder than normal although knowing that Williams was primarily a rather light sleeper; the lack of a response unnerved him. He reached out and placed a hand on Dan’s arm. Was Danno trembling? It felt that way to Steve. “Danno, you need to wake up!”

He heard Dan’s breath catch audibly in his throat but his friend’s eyes remained closed. Leaning close, practically nose to nose with Dan, he shook Williams none too gently this time and his voice strident and demanding, as on edge as he felt. “Danno, wake up! Come on, open your eyes and look at me, aikane!”

This time he was successful but, to McGarrett, the waking process seemed to take forever. Finally Dan’s blue eyes stared back at him but Steve was instantly concerned by the disorientation he saw there. The urgency he had originally felt outside as he stared at the Palace had now turned to a growing panic.

It took several minutes for Danny to realize that he was back in Steve’s office at the Palace, yet he brushed away the boss’ concern once he was aware of it. “Where…?…Oh yeah, the Palace. Steve, what’s wrong?” Williams’ voice slowly got stronger and Steve’s worry eased slightly.

“Danno, you are going to see Doc now!”

Danny instinctively rejected the idea. “I’m fine, Steve. You don’t have to worry.”

“Yeah, you’re fine. So why do you have a nosebleed? You should have gone to the hospital from the warehouse. I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Steve, I’m okay.” Dan’s voice had risen abruptly and then he paused, his voice quieter as he continued. “Look, if you let me get up I’ll even prove to you that I’m fine.”

McGarrett quickly dropped his hands from Dan’s arms and straightened. He desperately wanted Danny to be fine, for his concerns to be simply a product of his over stressed imagination. He couldn’t think much less voice the dread that he’d experienced over the last several days or acknowledge how lost he would be without his friend in his life. It was a subject he preferred to not deal with so he grabbed at the chance for a return to normalcy.

Williams slowly rose from the couch and McGarrett noticed that he seemed even steadier than he had earlier. Concern made him hover but he knew he had to do so in a way that didn’t nettle Dan’s fiercely independent nature.

“See - I told you I’m fine.”

Dan reached a hand up to his nose and when he pulled it away he noticed the dots of blood on a couple of his fingers. Where was this coming from and why? He knew he should remember, felt that there was something just beyond the reach of his memory. Trepidation taking hold, Danny glanced at McGarrett.

Fortunately he hadn’t noticed Dan’s movement otherwise Steve would have flipped. There was no other way to describe it. As self-contained and controlled as his friend was, it never ceased to amaze Dan how Steve seemed to simply lose it whenever anything happened to him. Now appeared to be no exception as he could tell that the McGarrett radar was intently focused on him.

From outside his office Steve heard the door slam. Probably Ben returning. The newest member of the team had a forceful strength about him that Steve hadn’t been able to contain it yet. It reminded him so much of his second in command when he’d first met Williams. A ball of youthful energy, Danny’s sometimes loud and forceful way of expressing his disagreement with his boss had led to a few intense encounters between them. Until McGarrett had been able to channel that energy and intelligence towards their work and had seen more of the similarities between them. Originally intending to only enter into a mentor/pupil relationship with his detective, the ever-growing friendship had thrown McGarrett’s ordered world into chaos until he accepted his developing feelings and the friendship.

McGarrett’s eyes were drawn to his friend and his forehead crinkled in concern. Abnormal hypersensitivity to his friend and his reactions at the moment allowed Steve to notice things that he might typically be a bit obtuse about. The expression on Dan’s face seemed tight as if he was desperately trying to control something or what he was doing was taking all of his concentration. Steve thought that was strange. All Dan was doing was standing there. He studied the expression and realized he should question it when Dan’s legs suddenly seemed to give out from under him. Steve’s hands reached out and grabbed Dan around his arms, supporting him and stopping him from sinking to the ground.

“Danno!” he hissed. Dan’s dead weight caused him to sink further inside Steve’s grasp. “Jenny! Jenny!”

Steve gently aided Dan in sinking to the floor. “Jenny!!”

The door opened but he was barely aware of the shadow that fell over the room. His complete attention was on the bluish tinge around Dan’s lips – something he hadn’t remembered from before or even when he was waking Dan up a few minutes ago. He kept his hand underneath Dan’s neck in support.

“Yes, Steve?…Oh MY!!! What happened?”

“Jenny, we need to get an –”

But he didn’t need to complete the thought because Jenny was already crossing over into the office to use the phone on McGarrett’s desk. Grateful for a secretary who could care for them as well as Jenny did, Steve turned his attention back to Danny. The blue around his lips seemed to have grown and now it appeared as if he was barely breathing. But Steve knew that mere seconds had passed since Dan’s collapse. What was going on? Fear now edged around the panic that had dominated since his return to the Palace. Steve’s hand moved from Dan’s neck to the side of his face. “Danno, stay with me!”

Gut reaction to what he saw pushed Steve to decide that he could get Dan the few blocks to Queens faster than waiting for an ambulance. “Jenny, call Bergman and tell him to meet us at Queens. BEN!”

Just about to request an ambulance, Jenny was familiar enough with her boss to easily switch gears and end the call, swiftly dialing the number to the coroner’s office. She waited impatiently for the ringing phone to be answered. Ben Kokua had stuck his head in the doorway to McGarrett’s office and Steve nearly barked at him to come help him.

“We’ve got to get Danno to the hospital.”

About to question whether or not it would be better to just get an ambulance, Ben caught the slight shake of Jenny’s head. He decided against a comment and assisted the boss. The two together got Dan up off the floor and started for the door.

“Doc, this is Jenny. Steve needs you to meet him at Queens right away. Something’s happened with Danny. No, I don’t know what, he collapsed. …No, Steve and Ben are taking him over. Steve doesn’t want to wait for an ambulance.” Jenny hurriedly hung up the phone and went to the door. Steve and Ben were nearly at the outer office door. “Bergman will meet you at Queens. Steve, don’t forget to call us!”

“Radio Chin and have him meet us there.” With that, they were gone from the office.

*****

Prowling the waiting room where Bergman had banished him to, Steve thought about the strangeness of everything that had happened. Williams had seemed fine after he’d regained consciousness in the warehouse. He’d had no trouble keeping up with McGarrett as they’d returned to the Palace. Granted they hadn’t spoken much. Even in the car on the drive back McGarrett had preferred to be quiet instead of getting Dan’s report of what had happened while he was Wo Fat’s guest. Instead he had assured his friend that they would talk back at the office. But then the meeting interrupted him. After Jenny reminded him. That was odd as well. He normally had a superb memory, frequently remembering not only his own schedule but Dan’s as well. Not this time. He wondered if his famous extra sense had known something was not right and he had ignored the warnings he had not recognized.

The slamming open of the emergency room door caught his attention and pulled his mind away from the depressing thoughts. Doc Bergman was striding towards him. Anxious for answers, McGarrett examined the crusty old doc’s expression and instantly knew that he did not want to hear what he was about to be told.

*****

McGarrett paced the empty warehouse like a caged tiger. Several hours had passed since the initial crisis in the Palace. It would be dark soon on the Island and the slippery spy would have an easier cover to make a getaway if he hadn’t already. They were almost out of time. He knew that even without checking his watch. Slipping a hand into his jacket pocket, his fingers grazed the metal of another watchband and reflexively tightened over it. Before he had left Queens, a nurse had handed him Dan’s watch informing McGarrett that they had taken it off his wrist but didn’t want to just leave it in the room with him.

Pulling the timepiece out of his pocket, he clenched it in his hand for a moment before looking down. Even in the poor light, his eyes automatically found the engraving on the back of the watch he had given his friend several Christmases ago. In his mind’s eye he saw again the pleased expression on Dan’s face as he had examined the gift. The memory was eclipsed by his last glimpse of Williams. The pallid, nearly lifeless expression made him shiver.

Bergman’s voice echoed in his thoughts as he told the Five-O detectives about the poison that Wo Fat had somehow introduced into Dan’s body – a poison that both Che Fong and Bergman could not identify. Steve hadn’t thought his panic could have risen higher than when he and Ben had finally reached the Mercury with Danny. Getting him into the car and driving to the medical center seemed to take forever. McGarrett wasn’t sure how much rubber he had pealed off his tires as he nearly floored the accelerator leaving the parking lot of the Palace. But then his panic had skyrocketed and now he couldn’t even think about what could be lost if they didn’t find something here to help.

His team and a large contingent of uniformed officers from HPD were once again combing the warehouse. Not long ago the lab team had also carefully examined the place – wearing gloves and masks since they hadn’t been sure what they were dealing with. The late discovery of the needle mark on Williams’ arm and subsequent transmission from Bergman of how the poison had definitely been introduced had eased the precautions a little as the team had removed their masks and allowed the police to join the search. Yet they had still insisted that everyone wear gloves. McGarrett had, of course, refused and no one was in the mood to argue with him.

“We’re running out of time, gentlemen. There has to be something in here that we’ve overlooked.”

“Place is clean, boss. Except for the dust, of course.”

“Not good enough! Danno’s life depends on our being able to figure out what he was given.”

Just then an officer that McGarrett did not know entered and spoke to Lukela. Duke nodded a response and called over to him.

“Steve! Your radio!”

Briefly nodding, McGarrett turned and hurried out the door to his car. He could vaguely hear the tinny voice coming through the speakers.

“Central to McGarrett.” The call was repeated several times before he reached the vehicle.

“This is McGarrett.” As he awaited a response, his eyes swept over the outdoor scene. Several officers were walking around the building and nearby Ben Kokua was issuing instructions to a team of newly arrived HPD officers.

“Central to McGarrett. We have a message from Queens Medical Center. They are requesting your immediate return.”

Startled, Steve was silent for several seconds then cued the microphone. “Was anything else said, Central?”

“10-4, you are to proceed directly to the Intensive Care Unit.”

A mix of fear and nausea filled him and he was barely able to acknowledge the message. The mic fell from his numb fingers. When he had left the hospital, Dan was still in the ER. What had happened that warranted being placed in ICU?

“Steve, is Danny…?”

McGarrett shook his head as the trepidation escalated. “I don’t know, Ben.”

Not turning, he opened the car door and jumped in. “I’ll be at Queens when you find something.”

Gunning the Mercury, he sped away before Kokua could offer a reply or any other comments. Ben watched the Mercury until it turned a corner then he moved to join the officers inside the warehouse. Duke approached him almost immediately.

“Where’s Steve?”

“Message was from Queens, requesting his immediate return.”

“Is Danny…”

“I don’t know. Steve didn’t say.”

Duke nodded gravely. “It’s where Steve belongs right now.”

*****

Driving nearly aimlessly, Steve found that his mind traveled nearly as quickly as the vehicle. Initially replaying the scene in his office over and over, Dan’s face soon melded to that of another – someone he hadn’t thought of in years.

“Danno even looks so much like Marty. I can’t let history repeat itself this time.” Gripping the steering wheel even tighter than before, Steve increased the pressure on the accelerator, desperate to get back to Queens as soon as possible. “History won’t repeat itself. What happened to Marty will not happen to Danno!”

The tires screeched as he slammed on the brakes and the vehicle came to an abrupt, rocking stop in front of the medical center. Stepping from the car, he slammed the door and hurriedly jogged inside, brushing past several visitors, patients and staff members. His mind was singularly focused now. He had to get upstairs to the ICU as fast as possible. Coming off the elevator, his eyes darted around as he attempted to quell his rising panic. This floor, this unit, could not mean anything good had happened. He hoped it wasn’t the worst, the event he ran from emotionally whenever it appeared to be a possibility with anyone he knew.

Moving through the doors that led into the unit his initial destination was the nurses’ station to obtain answers to his many questions. That goal was cast aside when a momentary glance towards one of the rooms brought him his ultimate goal – discovering where Williams was.

“Danno!” With a whispered cry, McGarrett turned and moved into the room, his burning need for information tossed aside at the sight of his detective.

Dan lay still, his eyes closed but McGarrett wasn’t sure if he was sleeping or unconscious. There was an IV inserted in an arm and an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Yet Steve’s eyes were fixated on what hung above his other arm. Through a different IV line flowed blood and he couldn’t help but stare at it as he remembered the last bits of conversation he’d had with Bergman before leaving for the warehouse.

“Steve, we don’t know much right now. But we’ll run some tests and see if anything is obvious. I do need your guys to comb that warehouse again and see if there is anything there that might help us.”

“They’re on their way already.”

“Good. Make sure they and the lab boys at least wear gloves. I’m not sure what we are dealing with here.” Bergman eyed the cop, knowing what was playing in his mind. Bergman wanted to ease his worry a little and hoped to get McGarrett to concentrate more on discovering the poison and less on Dan’s condition. He had enough on his hands with trying to figure out what Dan was given as well as trying to treat him. The last thing Bergman wanted was the Five-O boss stalking through the hospital going on one of his infamous rampages. “There is one good thing, Steve. Danny isn’t bleeding from anywhere – externally or internally.”

Steve’s confused expression prompted the doctor to explain.

“At least we know that whatever this poison is, it isn’t affecting his blood. He’s not hemorrhaging or anything like that.”

McGarrett’s voice as he spoke was gruff. “Doc, he’s already had a nose bleed…at the Palace.”

Bergman froze for a few seconds and his non-response told McGarrett more than he wanted to know. Not waiting for a reply, he had turned and headed out of the hospital.

Moving next to the bed, McGarrett placed his hands on Danny’s arms, simultaneously squeezing them and shaking him.

“Danno?” He waited for a few brief seconds for a reply. “Danno?”

“Don’t jostle him too much, Steve. Movement escalates the negative effects of the poison.”

Momentarily startled, he had not noticed anyone see him enter the room, McGarrett recovered quickly and glanced around to the door confirming that it was Doc Bergman who had spoken to him.

“What do you mean?” he demanded. “Exactly what is going on inside of him?”

The man who, for the most part, functioned as the coroner except for his unofficial duty as personal physician to McGarrett's team, moved away from the door and into the room before answering.

“I don’t know.”

McGarrett turned, incredulity written on his face. “You don’t know?”

“Outside of what you were told earlier – that it seems he was given some kind of poison – we don’t know anything more except what appears to be happening to him. We can’t locate any injection marks but there are no other obvious ways of entry. Tests for ingestion and inhalation are negative. Absorption is possible, but there are no signs of discolored skin or other possible methods. If we could determine how he was poisoned, it might help figure out what. But as it stands now we are simply reacting as his body is affected. His symptoms are not consistent with any known poison that we tested for, so far.”

“But what you’re doing is working, right? It’s making him better.”

Bergman didn’t answer. He simply stared at McGarrett with an emotionless mask. He hated facing the Five-0 chief with news like this. Having seen how Steve reacted to minor occurrences throughout the years, he’d dreaded the possibility of ever voicing the words he now needed to speak.

“He’ll be all right!” Steve demanded, hunted for confirmation even as the ultimatum was made.

Bergman’s mask slipped and sympathy crossed his face. “Steve –“ He couldn’t say the words any more than McGarrett wanted to hear them.

“No! No…” Realization dawned, chilling Steve to the marrow of his bones. He knew the message that Doc was unable to utter. The physician’s emotionless look, the sympathy that was there because of the coroner’s long standing relationship with Five-O, the inability to verbalize the death sentence. “No, he can’t! You have to do something!!”

The final statement was more of a plea than Bergman had ever heard from the man before him. He grasped the arms wondering if anything he said would get through to McGarrett.

“Steve, without knowing what he was given…”

McGarrett yanked himself away. He stared momentarily at Bergman and then turned, moving back to the side of the bed. His hands nervously gripped the bed rail as he stared down at his friend. The image shifted between that of the face he knew so well to a face from his past that had been long buried. Would this have been the way he would have reacted back then? He had never had the opportunity to know beforehand with Marty. Didn’t think he could stand to hear it now with Danno. His voice was quaking as much as his insides -

“How long…before…before he…” Knowing his voice was close to breaking, he never finished the query.

Steve’s eyes were fixated on the bed’s occupant so he felt more than saw the other man come up next to him. For a few seconds both of them eyed the patient, unknown but undoubtedly similar thoughts running through their minds.

“I wish I knew, Steve. His condition is detoriating quickly. Too quickly. One of the reasons why I had you brought back here – in case…” The unfinished sentence, the unspoken thought – Bergman knew that if it even appeared that Danny was near death that McGarrett would want to be there.

“Isn’t there anything that can be done? To give us more time to find…something?”

“We’re treating his symptoms now. But what we do does not slow the spread to his other organs. His respirations are slowing and his blood gases are dropping, Steve. I haven’t ordered the test yet but I’d be willing to guess that his kidneys are slowing as well. I know that doesn’t mean anything to you but Steve think of it like this. Sooner or later his body is simply going to shut down.”

Bergman paused. He knew this was hurting McGarrett like nearly nothing else could. He wished it could be someone else, anyone else, who would be telling him what he was about to say. Yet he also knew that there really wasn’t anyone else who could in the way that he would. Even though there was little he could do to soften the blow he was about to deliver to a man that many believed was untouchable.

“Steve, Danny’s body is getting weaker. Listen to his breathing. It’s slower now than it was when you first brought him in. At some point I’m probably going to have to intubate him just to keep him breathing.”

A faint groan could barely be heard from the man in the bed. Both Bergman and McGarrett looked down, shocked to see Dan’s eyes barely open. His lips moved under the mask, as he appeared to try to speak. Bergman reached over and moved the mask off his face for a brief time. Dan’s lips parted a few times as he tried to speak.

“No…ma…chine.”

The words were barely understandable. The two men beside him knew what he was trying to say more because of their familiarity with him than because of the clarity with which he had spoken. Bergman moved the mask back over his patient’s face, shaking his head. He glanced over at McGarrett and realized that Steve was completely focused on watching Dan breathe.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” He moved away from the bed but paused by the door. “I’ll be down the hall if things…”

Allowing his voice to trail off, the crusty M.E. found he could not voice the dire future. The pathologist in him did not believe that Williams had much time left. The doctor inside was perplexed by the inability of the medical staff and lab personnel to discover any specific information regarding the poison. The man who considered himself to be an auxiliary member of the Five-O team was despondent over what was happening to the second in command and what he knew would be the boss’ reaction to the end events. Sitting down in a chair at the nurses’ station, Bergman first picked up Danny’s chart. He stared at the blank page for physician notes and then he finally raised his arm and stared at his watch, eyeing the second hand as it ticked by the passage of time.

*****

McGarrett remained next to the bed, not even acknowledging Bergman’s departure. His vision was focused on the patient as he listened to the gasping, shallow breathing underneath the mask. His hands twisted around the bed rail, aching to be wrapped around the neck of that slippery Chinaman. Somehow he had to stay focused on the anger at the spy. The anger fueled his energies and kept him going, refusing to concede to the growing hurt. If he acknowledged it, the pain would consume him. Before his mind could slip away to plotting revenge, he realized that Dan hadn’t taken another breath after the previous one.

“Danno!” He called and moved the bed slightly with a jerky movement of his body.

He instantly thought about heading to the door to call Bergman and then recognized that he was listening to Dan breathe again. Understanding that he had been able to somewhat startle his friend into breathing, McGarrett knew that his job was not at the warehouse or the Palace or anywhere else. For the time being, his place was in this room, sitting next to his second in command and friend, assuring that Dan continued to breathe.

Reaching down a hand he lowered the rail and then sank into a chair that was behind him, scooting it close to the bed as he did so. His eyes remain fixated on his friend’s face. “ Just keep breathing, aikane.” A whispered plea that couldn’t even begin to express any of the emotions surging inside him.

Time ceased to exist as Steve sat next to Danny. While a part of him was cognizant of and wished that he was outside, on the street, trying to find out what Wo Fat had given Williams, McGarrett knew that there was no way he was leaving this particular room for the foreseeable future. His hand covered Dan’s still one as it lay on the bed. Since that brief time when his friend’s eyes had opened, Steve had stared at him. But now the eyes remained closed. It was as if all of the body’s energy and will were concentrated on breathing.

Sitting in the mostly silent room, McGarrett couldn’t stop the memories from washing over him. He’d been able to somewhat avoid the similarities so far but the obviousness was too much for him. He had sworn then to never allow himself to get close enough to anyone to risk feeling the pain again. He’d kept that vow almost to the extreme until a certain, curly-haired detective had made it impossible. Now, as history threatened to repeat itself, he vowed to make sure that it didn’t. The pain this time would be more than he could bear.

For a brief moment, Steve looked down at Dan’s face and again saw Marty’s dark features in its place. He gasped at the memory’s intrusion. No, this could not be a memory. Outside of being nearby when the grenade had detonated and then promising the young soldier that he wouldn’t leave him, McGarrett had not been nearby then until after the death had occurred. He’d never seen the death bed expressions on his friend then. He’d been banished not even to the doorway but to the bitter cold outside the makeshift hospital. He’d paced in controlled anger then as a couple of the braver NI officers who had been traveling with him stood close but unwilling to disturb him. Shaking his head nearly violently, he concentrated on the patient until he again saw Danno in the bed. He brought a hand up to his jaw, knowing that he was about to face the most difficult trial in his life as his past melded with his present and threatened to destroy everything he saw as necessary for a future.

*****

No one paid any attention to the young Oriental man as he entered the hospital. He consulted a sign near the elevators that listed what floors the various units were on and then quickly entered an open car, careful to not look at anyone.

Getting off the elevator, he glanced around and then moved down the hall to peer in the waiting room, finding it empty. He approached the closed electric doors that led to the Intensive Care Unit and tried to come up with a way to get inside. He hurriedly turned towards the wall as the doors opened, unsure of who was coming. Spying two nurses leaving the unit, he followed them. Listening to their conversation, he rolled his eyes as it appeared they were simply discussing what they had brought for dinner. Then one made a statement that caught his attention.

“That cop they brought in earlier – I don’t know how much longer he can last.”

“The one that no one knows what’s wrong with him…yeah, too bad, he’s a cutie. Not sure why the coroner is here though.”

“Didn’t you recognize the patient? He’s with the state police unit - Five-O. I think he’s the second in command. Williams, I think his name is. Bergman is always here whenever something happens to one of them. I heard once that he’s the only one McGarrett trusts with his men.”

“He’s a bit odd, isn’t he?”

“Who?”

“McGarrett – I’ve always heard that he’s like steel or something. That no one can reach him.”

“Yeah, I know. But he hasn’t left that officer’s side. And Bergman doesn’t seem to mind.

Ignoring the rest of the conversation, the Oriental moved off to a nearby pay phone, dialing quickly.

“Yeah, it’s Ming Chow….I’m here. ..No, I didn’t see him. Heard some nurses though. They don’t expect Williams to last much longer. Haven’t seen McGarrett either but they said he’s here. Yes, I’ll stay.”

Hanging up the phone, he moved off to find a place where he could observe the people coming and going without being seen himself. Doc Bergman stood just inside the doorway straining to hear Steve’s whispered voice. He’d looked in on his patient and the visitor a few times over the last several hours but had never disturbed either of them. The nurses were tracking Dan’s condition at the desk and had already informed him of the slow but continued decline. He wanted to check on McGarrett but did not dare to interrupt them.

Now hearing the edge and anxiety in Steve’s voice, Doc wondered if he didn’t need to get McGarrett out of the room. Danny had been injured before – but never as seriously as this. Medically Bergman knew that there was only one final outcome to this crisis and he doubted that McGarrett, despite his reputation, would have the ability to see it through. Perhaps if he got the boss out of the room now and then let him back in for a brief time just prior . . .

Unaware of the presence behind him and the thought pattern that was going through the normally prickly physician/coroner, McGarrett was restless in the chair. Intermittently he edged forward to the tip of the seat cushion as if trying to get even closer to the bed or he would slump tiredly against the somewhat cushioned back, bringing a hand up to rest his forehead on but never taking his eyes from the patient in the bed. Steve’s thoughts were amazingly similar to Bergman’s as he, too, was unsure if he would have the stamina to see this crisis through. But he was determined to not fail his friend, to not have a repeat of history.

Also he was positive that as long as he remained next to Danno talking to him and just being there that he could effect a change in their direction. Unlike the outcome with Martin, the young soldier who had died shortly after the doctor had expelled Lieutenant McGarrett from the building. It had been a long time before McGarrett was able to forgive himself for breaking his promise to the soldier and to accept that the death was not his fault. He was now determined to do whatever he could to change fate.

“Of course, I should have thought of calling him sooner. “

McGarrett’s spoken thought caught Bergman’s attention. He wondered whom Steve was talking about. In contact with the Five-O offices and HPD over the last day, he knew that little progress had been made in finding any trace of what had been used on Williams. Uncomfortable at the thought of calling the Palace again, Bergman knew it was because he did not wish to risk further upsetting Jenny Sherman, Five-O’s secretary, office manager and all around mother hen to all of the detectives but especially Steve and Danny. His last conversation had been merciful brief and he was grateful that she hadn’t asked for an update on the patient but then her voice had held a noticeable tremor and more than a hint of unshed tears. Glancing at his watch, Doc realized that Jenny would have already left for the day. He wondered if Steve had released Chin and Ben to go home for the evening but knew that neither detective would want to stop the search for the spy or the poison.

Shaking himself from the thought pattern, Bergman watched as McGarrett rose from his seat and picked up the nearby phone. Eyes still glued to his second in command, he appeared to dial a long number from memory. Drumming his fingers on the nearby bedside table, McGarrett waited, hoping the person he was looking for would answer it. Finally a click and a pause.

“Hello, old friend.”

Knowing he should walk away, Doc couldn’t help but listen to McGarrett’s side of the very odd conversation.

“I apologize. I didn’t stop to think about the time difference. I need your assistance.”

There was a long pause on Steve’s end.

“I need you out here as fast as you can get here. I’ll explain more once you’re here.”

Silence again as McGarrett listened. “Mahalo. Call my office when you arrive and they will know how to find me. Aloha.”

McGarrett hung up the phone and moved back near the bed. This time he sat on the bed, close to his friend.

After making the mysterious phone call, Steve’s world became the microcosm that was the hospital room. Hours went by and he was unaware of their passage. Completely focused on the man in the bed, Steve listened to the shallow breathing, ignoring the nurses as they moved in and out of the room monitoring Dan’s condition. Barely able to keep the emotion from choking him, he kept Dan's hand in both of his. He knew that if his NI friends saw him they would not believe him capable of such sentiment especially after the scarring incident after which he vowed to never get close to anyone again. But the only thing that mattered to him was that Danno continued to breathe, remained alive and recovered completely from this incident.

*****

Danny sensed the heaviness in his chest, knew it was becoming more of an effort to take a breath. He didn’t have the strength to keep it up much longer. He was so tired and all he wanted to do was rest. He tried to think about all of the reasons why he needed to keep fighting but it was as if his body was no longer capable of obeying him. He felt a sharp stabbing sensation shoot down his back. The pain was intense enough that he made a noise that was a part groan and part grunt. As it lingered his hand attempted to tighten around the bedcovers and failed. Slowly he realized that his other hand was being held in a very tight, two-handed clasp – one that got immeasurably tighter after he uttered the exclamation of pain. He wished he could squeeze the hand that held his, hold onto it much as a drowning person would a life preserver, but he couldn’t. His fingers were numb, not a tingly numb but a dead numb. He could still feel the palms of his hands, which was how he was aware of the handclasp. Danny thought he heard himself make another pain filled noise but couldn’t be certain. He could feel himself almost spinning but to where he wasn’t sure. Sounds were fading into the background and he started to lose the feel of the viselike handclasp.

“Danno, breathe!” The words sounded both close and yet far away. The voice grew even closer as if it was right by his ear. “You can’t give up!”

He wasn’t even aware of obeying the command but he must have, as the voice was again close.

“Good, Danno. Now take another one!”

Danny obeyed as if following the voice was something that came almost naturally to him. With the oxygen making its way to his brain, the voice became more familiar as the name he had been called finally registered in his foggy, drugged mind. Steve…Steve was the one who was with him holding his hand. He exhaled slowly and the breath caught audibly in his throat. It hurt so much to breathe! On a level that Danny couldn’t quite identify, it felt as if his body was shutting down in slow motion, as if he could minutely feel everything as body processes slowed beyond normal levels.

“What is it, Danno?”

He heard that voice again. It had to be Steve. Danny wished he could open his eyes and look at McGarrett. If only he could concentrate better. He barely recognized the anxious tone of McGarrett’s voice and knew that whatever was going on had Steve desperately worried. He felt an increased pressure on his hand but wasn’t sure what was happening.

“Your fingers are so cold.”

Steve knew it was an inane comment and couldn’t believe he had said it. But he couldn’t stop it from coming out of his mouth. Fear drove him now. Dan’s audible expressions of pain and inability to acknowledge McGarrett’s presence had scared him in a way that no other previous crisis had. Bergman’s near death sentence the previous evening had seemed so final yet he couldn’t give in to the idea that he would lose Dan because of this. There were so many ‘if only’s’ this time.

If only he had suspected foul play when he had first realized that Danny was late several mornings ago…

If only he had been able to find Williams sooner…or had insisted that he go to the hospital when they had found him.

If only he had stayed in his office yesterday instead of meeting with the governor…If only he had checked on Danno immediately upon returning instead of believing him to be asleep…

If only they had found something in the warehouse when they had gone back to search it…If only he had never allowed Wo Fat to slip from his grasp years earlier…If only he had never dragged his friend into this very personal conflict with the spy…If only…

Steve rubbed Dan’s fingers with his palm.

“Come on, Danno. Open your eyes and look at me.”

The words were out of McGarrett’s mouth before he could even think about them. More than a conscious thought it was a plea from his heart. Dan had to know he was there. Maybe then, Williams would realize that he needed to keep fighting, to keep breathing. McGarrett stared at Williams as if his sheer force of will would make Dan well again and these last terrible hours simply a bad dream. He knew the chance of saving Dan was diminishing with each tick of the clock. His rational side argued that he should be out there with the rest of the team combing the island for clues as to what his friend had been given, investigating the remote possibility that Wo Fat was still around, waiting to enjoy the outcome of his latest scheme. His heart, however, wouldn’t let him move from his position on the bed next to Dan.

Again the thought struck him how different a person he had become from when he had been with NI after Marty. He studied his friend, knowing that the change was because of him, because of their relationship. Knowing that it was all because of Williams. McGarrett would never have thought of a friendship with one of his detectives but it had seemed too natural with Danno. Now he shuddered to think of what would have happened had he never known Danny or even worse – what his life would be like if he ever lost his friend. Desperate to pull his mind back from the unpleasant scenario, McGarrett concentrated on the unconscious figure. Attempting to interject his normal bravado that bordered on cockiness into his tone, McGarrett ordered his detective to return to consciousness.

“Come on, Danno. Time to wake up.”

Williams’ breath was coming in sighs and gasps. Ever so slowly, McGarrett watched as his eyelids barely opened. This was what he had been waiting for but it wasn’t the same as he expected. Seeing the unfocused gaze and hearing the hitching breaths, Steve reluctantly let go of the hand he had held since he entered the room.

“Danno, I’m going to get Doc. ”

There was no response from Williams and McGarrett couldn’t help but wonder if he had been understood. He got up off the bed and looked around for a nurse. Not finding one, he contemplated going to hunt one down before he remembered the call button near the bed. The fact that he didn’t remember the ordinary detail was further proof of how panicked he was by Dan’s condition. Hearing footsteps near the door, he turned partially and was surprised to see Doc Bergman and not a nurse entering the room.

“What is it, Steve?”

“He’s awake.”

Bergman bent closer to the bed and saw that Dan’s eyelids were open. He did not appear to be focusing on anything though and Doc wasn’t sure if he should be concerned about that.

“Doc, I think he’s in pain. He’s been making these groaning noises.”

Bergman nodded without answering. He also knew from the monitors at the nurses’ desk that Williams’ breathing was even more irregular then when he had first been brought in. Sooner or later he was going to have to do something about the missed breaths. He wondered which man he would get the bigger argument from – Danny, who had once very emphatically told him how much he hated the thought of having a machine breathe for him or Steve, who would undoubtedly see the equipment as a sign that he was losing someone that Bergman was sure he was unprepared to lose.

“Danny, I can’t give you anything for pain. Do you understand?”

There was no response at all from Williams but Bergman’s arm was grabbed as he was roughly spun around. The past hours of watching someone he cared about fading from life was more than McGarrett could handle. His quicksilver, explosive Irish temper got the better of him.

“What the hell do you mean you can't give him anything? He’s in so much pain he can hardly breathe!”

“Steve, I don’t know what he was given in the first place! If I give him something for pain right now mixed with the other stuff going through his system, it could kill him!”

“And if he can't breathe because of the pain that will kill him also! You have to have something that you can give him!”

“OK Steve, listen to me, We can't give him anything, we don't know what will react with whatever he was given. What we can do is intubate him, that will ease his breathing and hopefully that will ease the pain.”

Looking past Bergman, McGarrett found himself staring at Dan’s wide open and focused eyes. In a chill of realization, McGarrett knew that Dan had reached the point where he was unable to answer Bergman. He also knew that it meant the decision would be left up to him. He thought about how they talked several times about their thoughts and feelings on the latest medical developments and the growing ability to keep people alive longer. Dan’s opinions had led to one of their many late night debates. Having lost his father in a hit and run accident, Steve couldn’t be sure if he would have been willing to utilize the artificial technology if it might have saved his parent’s life. Williams had been adamant about not liking ventilators. In an effort to end the discussion, Steve had made a comment about how Dan had simply had more experience with the machines since he’d been seriously injured several times in his career. He had not mentioned how each injury of Dan’s had also torn him up emotionally but it was something that Williams already knew. He was sure of that.

Now as he looked at his friend, McGarrett noticed that Dan’s breath appeared to be even more unsteady and irregular than it had been. Dan’s lips moved and briefly his friend’s face melded with a face that had long been buried in his memory, one that he hadn’t consciously acknowledged that he even remembered.

“Help me!” Dan’s lips silently moved but in his head, McGarrett heard the voice of a young, terrified soldier who had known he was dying and was willing to do anything to prevent it. The decision for McGarrett came easily and without an internal debate. He would do anything to save his closest friend’s life – even if it was against what he knew that friend would want.

“Okay, then do it.”

Surprised by how easily he had won the discussion with McGarrett, Bergman mumbled about how it would take him a little while to gather everything he needed to intubate Danny. Then before Steve could say anything else Bergman left the room. McGarrett stared at the empty space for a second before returning to the side of the bed and flopping heavily into the chair that was pulled close to it. He wondered if he needed to explain his reasoning to his friend.

“Danno, I know we talked about this. I know how you feel about those machines, but it’s the only way. Doc’s going to help you. The machine will help you breathe. It will give us more time until we can figure out what that stuff is and then you’ll be fine. You just have to keep breathing until he gets back, got it?”

Williams’ eyes slowly moved until they settled on Steve’s face. The defeated look that was written in the blue eyes was more than Steve could handle and he plunged to a new depth of despair. He felt that Dan was giving up, yet it was something that he couldn’t do. Trying to work past that, Steve locked his eyes with Dan’s, wishing he could instill some of his strength and stubborn drive into his friend. Carefully watching the patient, Steve noticed the longer times between breaths and the hesitation to even breathe.

“Breathe, Danno.” He watched as Dan inhaled slightly. “Good – again,.” He saw a very minuscule shake of Dan’s head. Panic rising to new levels, Steve couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and grabbing a hold of Dan’s arm. “Breathe!” He ordered.

The shock of the rough grab of his arm startled Danny enough to where he took another breath. It was all he could do to not gasp out in pain. His muscles, his ribs, his very lungs. Inhaling sent flames of agony up his back and through his ribs, made his lungs seem to burn in pain. He didn’t want to breathe anymore. Knew he would do anything to just ease the hurt. He looked away from McGarrett’s stare, not sure what led him but instinctively realizing that McGarrett could not know his reasons.

“Look at me.” Steve’s voice was choked with a myriad of emotions. He understood completely why Dan had broken their eye lock and he wasn’t sure what bothered him more. Being protected by his friend even now or knowing Danny was hurting as bad as he was. This was awful – watching the pain that Williams was going through. His mind flashed back to another room – a room he had not been allowed to stay inside during the worst moments. The doctor then had not seemed to care that McGarrett had promised not to forsake the patient. He’d never seen the final struggle or the end result. Maybe it was better that way. Before he could ponder the memory further, Dan’s eyes slowly moved to meet his gaze. He immediately focused on the present, on his friend.

McGarrett fought to keep his voice level as he urged Williams to keep breathing. He watched Dan take a very small breath. “Again.” He watched Williams start to look away from him. Steve held his friend’s gaze, not backing away. “Don’t look away. Danno, I know it’s hurting you to breathe.” Steve paused unsure how much he could reveal. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Don’t protect me from this, aikane. I need to do something for you. It’ll be all right. You just watch me and listen to my voice. Doc will be back soon and he’ll help you. Then before you know it, we’ll find the crux of this and you’ll get better.”

Danny sighed but his eyes never left Steve’s face. Listening to Steve’s voice, knowing that his friend was there with him and, as always, willing to help him in any way possible made Dan struggle to fight a little harder. Concentrating on his friend’s face and voice, Dan slowly grew more alert than he had been.

Surrendering the last of his reservations, Steve slid his hand over Dan’s, gripping it tightly. He was usually much more emotionally expressive when Dan was unconscious. Knowing that his friend would not know what he said or did, Steve often admitted to feelings and how lost he’d be if the worst happened. He would also frequently clasp Dan’s hand in his own, telling himself it was a way to force his own stubborn life force into his friend. Yet it was something he normally never did when Dan was conscious – except for now. Now there didn’t seem any point to hiding anything after what he’d just said. Besides if pressed he could grudgingly admit that most people who knew the two of them also knew that McGarrett tended to spin completely out of control whenever something happened to Dan. “Come on, aikane. Breathe.”

Over the next several minutes nurses came and went, bringing in trays of instruments and items that Bergman would need. Someone pushed in the respirator and spent a minute or so hooking it up to the wall. McGarrett and Williams were ignorant of all of it. Each was focused on the other. Steve’s eyes stayed locked on Dan, knowing that his friend was leaning on him for the strength to get through this crisis. His hand remained on top of Dan’s and he squeezed it intermittently as he kept reminding his friend to breathe.

“Again, Danno…Take another breath.”

Unknown to McGarrett, a visitor now stood in the doorway. Police sergeant Duke Lukela arrived with the intent of updating McGarrett on the search to discover what Williams had been given. He had reached the hospital room in time to hear Steve’s last plea to Dan to keep breathing. Lukela now remained in the doorway watching the two detectives, a bit surprised at the fervency he heard in the boss’ voice as he spoke. Like most of the Hawaiian police force, Duke was aware of the friendship shared by the detectives. He’d seen it develop first hand since he was frequently assigned to Five-O for extra manpower. Yet even he had not realized the closeness of the relationship between Five-O’s two top detectives until he now stood nearby watching what he guessed to be one of the few outwardly public displays of concern McGarrett had ever expressed for someone other than his sister.

From his vantage point, he was able to examine both of the men. Danny looked paler than he’d been the last time Duke had seen him and there was a grayish pallor of death that seemed to hang over him. His expression appeared pained. Lukela was unable to get a clear view of Williams’ eyes, as they were fixated on some point on or near McGarrett’s face. As for the top cop, Duke was only able to see McGarrett’s profile. But the expression on what Lukela could see indicated that he was desperately worried. There was a tremor in his voice that Duke could not recall hearing before. However, it was Steve’s hand that surprised Lukela – the hand that Steve had placed on top of Dan’s several minutes before and now squeezed sporadically. Lukela could not remember McGarrett ever being able to make an outward show of emotion like this, be it affection or concern for anyone in all the years the Hawaiian had known him.

Duke watched unwilling to disturb them yet unable to leave. Finally Bergman pushed past him with a nod of acknowledgment to his presence. A nurse followed him. Doc approached the bed as the nurse moved off to put a covered silver tray on the bedside table and wheel it closer to the side of the bed.

“Steve, we’re ready.” Bergman’s voice was grave. McGarrett did not bother to look over at him. He wasn’t ready to break the eye contact he had with his friend yet. Staring intently at Dan, McGarrett winked slightly.

“Told you he’d be back, Danno. Doc’s going to help you like he said. And I’ll be right here too.”

Bergman moved to stand on Dan’s other side and accepted a syringe from the nurse. “This is to help you relax more, Danny. To make it easier for me to insert the breathing tube.” He carefully injected it into the IV line in Danny’s arm. “Steve, before you lose it on me over there, this is the mildest thing we’ve got that we can give him. That way it shouldn’t have any kind of adverse results with that poison thrown into the equation.”

Bergman was not surprised when he did not get a response from either man. Danny’s gaze appeared to be steadily growing more unfocused as the drug coursed through his system. His eyelids blinked several times slowly. McGarrett lowered his head as the doubt about what he had told Bergman to do assailed him. Was this really the right move? Or had he been entirely too selfish by giving his consent?

Setting his face in one of his more determined scowls, Steve raised his head but did not look at Williams. This was definitely the right move. There was no arguing over something as inane as a difference of opinion. Danno simply had to come through this crisis and recover. There was no other option for either of them.

In a moment that defined all of the emotion that had been coursing through McGarrett for the last several days but was unseen by anyone else in the room, Dan’s hand moved under McGarrett’s until he was able to weakly squeeze Steve’s hand. Feeling the grip, Steve’s eyes went to Dan’s face and their gazes locked for several seconds. As had always been the case with them, thoughts passed unspoken between them. Words were frequently unnecessary since the two knew each other so well that a look would often suffice. In that gaze this time was an emotion that Steve could not recall seeing before and it chilled him to see it there now. Before McGarrett could say a word, Williams’ eyes slowly slid closed.

McGarrett fought his heightened panic. He’d spent so many of the last hours struggling with Dan to keep him breathing and keep him awake feeling that if Danno was staring at him at least Steve knew he was still alive. But now those eyes were closed and McGarrett couldn’t help but fear that he might not see them open again. His logic fought with an unusual need to express emotions that he rarely admitted to. Unspoken words jumbled in his mind as his chest clogged. He settled for tightening his own grasp of Danny’s fingers just as Dan’s clasp relaxed and his hand started to slide from Steve’s. So focused on his internal battle and his grasp of Dan’s hand, Steve was unaware of Bergman speaking to him.

“Steve.”

“What?”

“I said you need to leave now.”

McGarrett’s eyes narrowed as he fixed his gaze on the physician. Although he didn’t speak, there was no need. Bergman easily read the flash of Irish temper that initially sparked.

“Steve –“

Before Bergman could finish his next comment, the ire disappeared but was replaced by a look of anxiety and fear that that the coroner rarely saw in the Five-O leader. He instantly recognized that McGarrett’s infamous self-control was gone. His normally gruff tone was gentler as he explained.

“Steve, you can’t be in here while we intubate Danny.” Reflexively he held up his hand to stave off any temper tantrums “But as soon as I’m done with this procedure and reasonably assured that Danny is stable and tolerating the machine you can come back in.”

He paused as if expecting a retort or comment from McGarrett. Not getting one was further proof to Bergman that the cop was seriously unnerved by the goings on of the last few days. He then turned to the man who had remained just inside the doorway.

“Duke, why don’t you and Steve go get some coffee?”

McGarrett’s head jerked over in the direction of the door. He wondered how long Duke might have been there. What had he seen? Or heard?

Ignoring the suddenly suspicious look on McGarrett, Duke approached him. “Coffee sounds good, doesn’t it, Steve?” Not moving his gaze from McGarrett, Lukela addressed his next comment to Bergman. “Doc, we’ll be in the waiting room when you’re done.” He then reached out a hand towards McGarrett’s arm.

Knowing he had no hope of remaining in the room, Steve stood as Duke came up next to him but could not meet the policeman’s gaze. Abruptly he turned and the two moved to the doorway where McGarrett stopped and turned around. The nurse had taken his placed near Dan’s side and appeared to be monitoring something.

“Doctor, respirations have fallen dramatically. I can’t get a good count.”

“OK, we need to hurry. Let’s get him lying flat.” Bergman eyed his patient for a moment as the nurse readjusted the bed. “Stay with me, Danny.”

Realizing the meaning behind the exchange, Steve’s body shook and he started forward as if appearing to head back into the room. He felt a strong, restraining grip on his arm.

“Steve, come on. Let Doc help Danny.”

Forcing himself to look away from the scene, McGarrett allowed Lukela to lead him out into the waiting room. Entering the room, Duke immediately dropped his hand from McGarrett’s arm and it was then that Steve noticed Ben Kokua waiting, expectantly watching the door they had just come through.

Kokua walked over to meet them at the edge of the room and started to report. He glanced briefly at Duke who gave the slightest shake of his head. Ben sighed and didn’t speak, guessing what the shake of the head must have meant. Eyeing his boss, Ben noticed that McGarrett seemed unaware of the silent conversation that had just taken place. He found this disturbing as the team usually thought that McGarrett was not only aware of all that went on around him but they also joked that it seemed like he could read their minds at times. Duke excused himself, murmuring something about coffee but Ben wasn’t sure what he had said. A heavy silence remained for several seconds and then McGarrett finally eyed his detective, quietly asking if they had found anything positive over the last day. Ben responded with a negative shake of his head and quietly told McGarrett that everything the officers working the investigation checked out seemed to collapse into a dead end.

Stark fear inside McGarrett prompted a whispered comment that he thought no one else heard. “We’re going to lose Danno.”

Ben was horrified. He could not comprehend the idea of Five-O without Williams around for one. But also he could not remember ever seeing or hearing of McGarrett indicating that a situation was hopeless before. Although still pretty much the new guy on the team, he’d heard enough stories passed around HPD about McGarrett and his tenacity. A couple had even circulated that he was an absolute bear when something happened to one of his officers. Kokua knew that Steve had worked like an obsessed madman when Danny had been accused of shooting the unarmed kid not long ago. Hearing such a comment at this time forced Ben to realize exactly how bad it really was. His body trembled in dread even as his lips offered near meaningless words in response.

“We’ll find something soon, Steve. I know we will.”

McGarrett didn’t bother with a reply and moved over near the window, staring out of it without focusing on anything. Sgt. Lukela returned and immediately handed McGarrett a cup of coffee but noted that, while Steve held onto the cup, he was essentially ignoring it. He needed to think, to work through the crisis and come up with a way past it – a way that both he and Danno survived. The niggling thought in the back of his mind kept reminding him about the similarities between Danny and Marty. He pushed it away futilely, not wanting to acknowledge it for fear of history repeating itself. However his over stressed and exhausted mind could not get past the numbing fear that he was about to endure a paralyzing and life-altering loss.

Farther down the hall past the elevators, unobserved by any of the policemen waiting there, Ming Chow emerged from his watchful hiding place and picked up the phone, quickly dialing a number.

“Let me speak to him…Yes, sir, I am still watching them… It does not appear to be good…. That McGarrett is here. He just came out of the ward and appears to be highly upset.” He paused, as the person at the other end of the phone appeared to laugh heartily. “Hold on, Master. It appears that new people are arriving. No, I don’t know who they are. I do not believe they are locals. Yes, I will go check, Master.”

Hanging up the phone he slipped back into his hiding spot, intent on identifying the new arrivals.

The essential quiet of the waiting room was disturbed by voices coming from the direction of the elevators. Ben and Duke glanced at each other. Both recognized the voice of Chin Ho Kelly, the other Five-O detective. But neither could place the voice that had questioned Chin. Chin entered the room and moved directly over to Ben and Duke quietly looking for an update on Williams. He glanced back at the two men who had been on the elevator with him. They had arrived at the Palace looking for McGarrett and because Chin had recognized one of them from old pictures in the boss’ office, he had agreed to bring them to the hospital. However not knowing what McGarrett intended, he had been nearly mute about the current goings on in Hawaii. Since neither man appeared to know specifically why Steve had called them, Chin decided to wait and let the boss tell them himself.

Trailing just a bit behind him were two men – one dark haired and the other very blond – dressed in almost severe looking black suits. Ben glanced up and couldn’t help but notice the similar expressions/demeanors between these two men and the way his boss usually looked. Both of the new arrivals scanned the room, their eyes finally stopping on McGarrett.

“Steve, you called; we are here. What do you need, my friend?”

McGarrett was startled at the sound of the familiar voice. He turned away from the window. For a moment he was back in the dark and dreary base hospital and the darker man standing in front of him wore a dress uniform that was similar to his own – when it was cleaned and pressed properly. Vacant eyes stared at the dark haired man without recognition for several seconds before his expression acknowledged the identity of the person before him. He glanced hesitantly at his watch and realized that he had no idea how much time had gone by.

“Napoleon.”

The Oriental man hurried back to the phone, sure that his boss would be able to identify the new arrivals by just that one word. He dialed quickly and was only mildly surprised when the boss himself answered the phone. He delivered his news hastily, without even bothering with the usual pleasantries.

“Master, Mr. McGarrett called one of the men ‘Napoleon’.”

More laughter sounded at the other end.

“Ah, McGarrett has called out his old friends to help him with this one. Too bad they will all be far too late – except to attend a funeral, of course. It will not be necessary after all for you to remain. Get out of there, my friend, before you are discovered.”

“Yes, Master.” With that, Ming Chow hung up the phone and left the hospital.

Over in a non-descript Oriental styled room, a sinister laugh could be heard as a hand rubbed thoughtfully at a chin. Then there was the dialing of a phone.

“Yes, I’ve heard that Mr. McGarrett, the head of Five-O, is there. I need to speak with him, please.”

In the waiting room, Duke Lukela recognized the two new arrivals. Napoleon Solo had known the boss since their days in NI together. Following rather illustrious careers, both had moved on to other occupations – Steve to build and run Five-O and Napoleon was an agent for UNCLE. Occasionally the spy operated on his own, without the benefit of the weight of the international spy organization behind him, and lately talked frequently of building a business for himself and getting out of the profession that made him a constant target. With Napoleon was his partner, Illya Kuraykin, a former Russian KGB agent. Fitting every cliché ever uttered about the Russian people, Illya had been Napoleon’s partner at UNCLE for many years. Their relationship was almost as much of a quagmire to their colleagues as McGarrett and Williams were on the Islands. Yet through brief encounters with the duo, McGarrett had realized that, although he would never allow it to surface, Illya cared as deeply for his partner and worried about his well being as much as Steve worried about Dan’s. He felt an immeasurable relief at knowing that his old NI buddy had found someone who would always watch his back.

Moving away from the window, Steve shook the proffered hand of his old NI turned spy buddy and then somewhat normally acknowledged the other man’s presence. “Illya, good to see you again. Are you keeping this old man out of trouble?”

The typically joking comment was, this time, made without a trace of mirth on McGarrett’s face. Napoleon recognized that it was said more because such a comment was expected.

“Keeping the boss or a friend out of trouble – Is that not part of the job description, if not a trait, of partners and second in commands?” Illya replied.

Steve didn’t answer but closed his eyes briefly in an effort to ward off the surging emotions that were threatening to burst. The comment, made without malice or knowledge, only served to remind him of his own failure this time.

Solo sobered as he recognized the lines of worry on McGarrett. Staring at the detective, the spy noticed other reactions that he didn’t remember ever seeing in McGarrett.

“Something is different, Steve.” Napoleon stopped speaking. He knew he had overstepped McGarrett’s invisible lines. This was not something he wanted to bring up with so many ears around listening. He stared at his old friend – a pointed look that revealed he knew something was different but also acknowledged that it was something they needed to discuss later, privately.

McGarrett averted his eyes, uncomfortable with the direct and probing gaze. Knowing that he had made Steve uneasy and familiar with how the detective hated being easily read, Napoleon also realized that the customary shields and walls McGarrett had erected years earlier were down at the moment. He made an effort to change the direction of the conversation. He, as well as McGarrett, was uncomfortable with where the conversation was going and with what he had just realized.

From seemingly out of nowhere, a nurse materialized and told McGarrett that he had a phone call. She quickly pointed to the small, red phone hanging on the nearby wall. After picking it up and speaking with the operator, Steve hung the phone back up, only to have it ring immediately with his call.

“Yeah, McGarrett.”

“Stephen, how good it is to hear your voice, old friend.”

McGarrett’s jaw dropped. “Wo Fat!” he hissed. “Where are you?”

Chin and Duke looked over at McGarrett. “Wo Fat is on the phone?” Ben whispered, shocked that the spy would have the audacity to call the hospital.

“I just thought I should call since I can’t be there in person you know. “

“Don’t worry, Old Friend, we’re closing in on your miserable carcass as you speak.”

“I think not, Stephen. Although I do wish I could be there in person to join in on the fun of the little reunion. It seems you are bringing in all of your old friends, this time McGarrett. Too bad they are simply gathering for a funeral!”

“Wo Fat! What did you give him??” Steve yelled into the phone before realizing that the spy was no longer listening. Incensed, Steve slammed the phone back on its hook while Wo Fat was still in mid-chortle. He pounded the wall in frustration, in anger. What he really wanted was to throw something – preferably at that fat and ever so slippery Oriental. If he had known who it was, if he had reacted faster than he had and more like the cop that he was, he could have traced the call and maybe discovered where the spy was hiding!

“Steve,” Napoleon beckoned. “Steve, Wo Fat is here? In Hawaii? And you just spoke with him?”

With great effort, McGarrett turned and headed back to the group. His public mask was again back in place as he read the vivid concern on the faces of his team and the outright amazement on Solo’s.

Noticing the boss’ reaction, Chin spoke quickly in an effort to distract him.

“I might have discovered something. One of my relatives thinks he knows someone who is related to someone who either has been seen with or has information on Wo Fat.”

At the casual mention of the Chinese spy’s name, both Napoleon and Illya were startled and glanced at each other before staring at McGarrett, incredulous. All present saw a slight spark of interest appear on the boss’ face.

“What would we do without your large, extended family! Take Ben with you, Chin, and follow this down as far as the two of you can. Get more help from HPD if you need it. This could be the break we need, gentlemen!”

“Right, Steve.”

“Sure, Steve.”

The two detectives headed for the elevator, more energized by the possibility than they had been for several days.

“You’ve changed the make up of your team, Steve.”

Illya jumped in before McGarrett could form a reply. “Yes, Napoleon, he has. The last time we were on the islands Steve had a shorter man with curly hair working with him. I thought that man was your second in command?”

McGarrett blanched at the mere mention of Williams, his inscrutable look slipping again.

Before McGarrett could answer Illya, a different voice sounded from behind them.

“Steve.”

McGarrett instantly whirled and moved forward. “Yeah, Doc.”

The urgency in his tone caused Illya to raise an eyebrow at Napoleon. He, too, had picked up on the anxiety and tension in McGarrett despite not having the long history with him as his partner did. Solo gave a shrug of his shoulders and a shake of his head, indicating that he did not believe it would be wise to comment at the moment. Illya glanced at the uniformed, Hawaiian officer who had remained with McGarrett. However Duke was paying little attention to the two additions. He had also moved closer to where Doctor Bergman now stood with McGarrett.

“We’re done, Steve.” Bergman held up a hand to stall any forward movement. “Now before you go charging back in there, we still need to wait and monitor his breathing to make sure it improves and to make sure he is tolerating the machine.”

“That doesn’t sound very promising or positive.”

“Steve, without knowing what he was given, there’s very little we can actually do to help him. I’ve told you that already.”

McGarrett nodded and then started to speak but was stopped by Bergman.

“I still want to wait a while before I let you back in there, Steve. Danny is still under sedation so let’s wait a little while longer. Why don’t you go get something to eat? Or go home and sleep for while? Walk on the beach or shower and change?”

McGarrett sighed but did not respond. Bergman used his chance to continue, pressing his point.

“You need to relax and rest for a while, Steve, before you collapse.” Leaving that as his parting remark, Bergman turned and reentered the door that led to the ICU.

McGarrett remained rooted in place and his head fell to his chest in one of the most defeated moves that anyone there had ever seen. Napoleon Solo stared at the back of the Five-O chief. This was completely out of character for the tough NI officer that McGarrett had become so many years ago. A bit uncomfortable with what he was seeing, Solo had to do something. He needed to disrupt the karma that seemed to have permeated the room.

“Steve, you still haven’t told us what has happened? Or why you called us here.”

Jolted from his reverie by the question, McGarrett raised his head and turned to study the spy. He nodded his head slightly and gestured towards a row of chairs. “I suppose I should start at the beginning of the story.”

“That is usually a good place to start.” Illya replied as both he and Solo turned to sit down.

Steve sat across from them so that he could be able to speak directly to them as well as still have a view of the door, through which Doc Bergman had come and gone. After a moment’s hesitation, Duke Lukela came to stand next to McGarrett, like a sentinel on guard. Napoleon and Illya were quiet, waiting on McGarrett. For several minutes, McGarrett didn’t speak as he pondered how much of the story he would actually tell. Just thinking about the details of the last days still hurt more than he was willing to admit. Yet he had to tell the complete version. After his abrupt phone call and the hurried, long flight from the East Coast, Solo would settle for nothing else but the detailed truth. Steve sighed, not sure he could make it through a complete retelling.

“Monday morning I had arranged to meet Danno at the office very early before anyone else arrived. We’d had several investigations finish and we needed to complete the paperwork as well as all of the beauracratic paperwork the governor requires. I started on the reports but kept an eye on the clock. I thought he was late because of another date that ran too late. Was already planning how I was going to tease him about…”

McGarrett’s voice trailed off for several seconds. He was slipping into the personal recollection. Normally he never did that. But this time he knew he was falling apart emotionally. It was so unlike him, yet he could not seem to regain his vaunted control. Lukela glanced quickly at his boss wondering if Steve was going to be able to make it through the story. Napoleon stared at McGarrett as he was again reminded of how much the man had changed. Not knowing the Hawaiian cop very well, Illya glanced at Napoleon wondering if one of them needed to say something. Steve took a couple of deep breaths and then continued.

“Danno never showed.” He took another deep breath. “Later that morning, HPD dispatch called to say they had found the LTD. It had been pushed off the road into some brush. There was evidence that it had been hit and the lab found drops of blood on the seat. There was no sign of …a body.”

Rising emotions caused McGarrett to stop yet again. He clearly remembered the ill fear he’d harbored over not knowing what had happened. Duke looked at Steve, feeling it was necessary to spare him from reliving every moment of the story, he picked up the tale. McGarrett used the opportunity to try to get his raging emotions under control.

“Steve was able to learn fairly quickly about Wo Fat’s arrival several days prior. It was easy to conclude that he was planning something and had decided to snatch Danny as a way to divert any attention to his presence and what he was up to. We found Danny about two days ago after HPD received an anonymous call. The person indicated that he was in an abandoned factory. He was OK considering he had spent the past several days as a guest of Wo Fat and his people.”

“He seemed fine. Just tired. I never insisted that he get checked out. Until the nosebleed. Maybe…”

“Steve, there wasn’t anything that you should have done differently. Don’t do this to yourself. It’s not what Danny would want.”

McGarrett glanced briefly at Lukela to acknowledge the comment.

“But something had happened to him.” Illya couldn’t resist posing the statement, anxious to hear the complete story.

Knowing the current state of McGarrett’s emotions, Duke wanted to spare him having to hear all of the details of what they had all been living through the last several days. He summarized what had happened after they found Williams up until the search of the factory. Solo had surreptitiously kept an eye on McGarrett since they had sat down. McGarrett’s ability to control his expressions and emotions had been second nature, coming as easily to the NI officer as breathing was to most people. Napoleon remembered that when Steve had first arrived on the islands he had even been nicknamed the ‘man of the steel’ by the locals because most had come to think that he actually never even felt emotion. Even the brief visits the two friends had enjoyed over the years had not shown a chink in the Irish cop’s armor. But that much valued control was gone now. Although not emotionally hysterical there was an edge to McGarrett’s words and actions that screamed distressing collapse. It was obviously evident to those on his team, as they seemed to need to protect him this time. Illya took up the conversational thread.

“What progress has been made in identifying the poison?”

“Very little,” McGarrett made no attempt to further elaborate on his cryptic response.

“What exactly does the poison do to the body?”

McGarrett paled at the Russian’s question as the symptoms Danny had experienced the last couple of days replayed themselves in his mind. Duke understood that he didn’t know enough of what had happened to fully answer Illya however he wasn’t sure that McGarrett would be able to. Neither ended up needing to reply as Bergman yet again appeared in the hallway. McGarrett glanced up, spotted the Doc and rose, fear nearly consuming him.

Bergman winced at the expression that was clearly readable on McGarrett’s face. Although he wasn’t surprised by the absence of the inscrutable expression that was normally present, Bergman now acknowledged that McGarrett with his emotionless mask was easier to deal with in many ways than the cop that he had seen the last several days. Knowing that there was only one statement from him that would truly mollify the Five-O boss, he wished that there were a way he could say it.

“Doc?”

The question, which sounded more like a plea, startled him out of his thought pattern. Was it possible that Steve’s expression was getting worse as the seconds ticked by? Doc knew that the best thing he could do for McGarrett was to get him back into the hospital room so although he had only come out to give a brief update he changed his mind.

“OK, gentlemen, he does seem to be tolerating what we did fairly well. Steve, I’m going to let you back in. Keep in mind though that Danny is still sedated.” Bergman glanced at Duke and then at the other two dark suited men that he felt he should know. “The three of you can go in as well but don’t stay more than a few minutes.” Doc turned to head back into the nursing unit knowing that at least McGarrett would be close at his heels.

Bergman entered the room to check on his patient fully aware that Steve was practically glued to his heels. He had actually checked on Williams right before he had gone out to the waiting room so really did not need to check on him again. This time his purpose was to observe McGarrett’s reaction once he saw Danny. Having been able to subtly observe the cops for several years, he had seen the friendship that developed between the two. However being men with just a bit of testosterone flowing through the veins meant that neither was capable of revealing what the other meant to them. Unless, of course, it came down to a life and death crisis like they were currently in. Doc moved to the foot of the bed and stopped, casting a side look at the Five-O chief. Steve had entered the room focused only on his goal. To get in the room and see his friend with his own eyes. He never realized that Duke had followed him or that Solo and Kurakyan were standing in the doorway.

Duke Lukela knew he had to be there to support McGarrett partially to make sure that Steve was coping with the situation but also to convince himself that Dan would be fine. When the two Hawaiian officers went towards the room and Solo had suddenly followed several steps behind, Illya knew he had to go as well even though he had not planned on it. He wasn’t sure of the exact reasoning behind his reluctance, but understood that it was a moot point.

In the doorway both Napoleon and Illya glanced at the man in the bed. Because of Solo’s association with McGarrett, the two spies had met Williams previously on a trip to the Islands. Napoleon thought back to his recent encounters with McGarrett and finally began to identify the change he had thought he saw.

“This is bad,” he whispered to his partner.

“Yes, it appears to be much worse than your friend, McGarrett, originally said.”

Puzzled, Napoleon glanced at Illya.

“He has a machine breathing for him, Napoleon.” The Russian wondered as to why he needed to point out the obvious. He was used to being on the same mental page as his partner.

“Oh that – yes, that is also an unhappy concern.”

“Napoleon, I am not following you this time.”

“Illya, think back to how Steve was when you first met him and then remember some of the stories you have heard.”

“You have not told me many of your NI stories. I believe this is from fear of embarrassment.”

Solo ruefully acknowledged the comment before continuing. “Perhaps. Anyway that is not the issue.”

“In your own inimitable round about way, are you trying to ask if I have noticed a changed McGarrett this time, Napoleon?”

Solo nodded and Illya continued.

“The answer is yes, Napoleon. From the initial phone call, I thought something might be different this time. Steve is a very astute man. He would never call you without a regard for the time difference under normal circumstances unless it was vitally serious. However I am not completely sure as to the exact nature and reason for the change as I am not intimately familiar with your friend as you are.”

“The reason is right in front of us, tovarich. It is him.”

*****

Chin and Ben jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped. Peeking into the restaurant’s windows, Ben noticed a young Oriental suddenly start towards the back. He headed for the alley assuming that there was a rear entrance to the business. Chin, trying to appear casual, walked over to the door and entered it. Once inside and noticing the Oriental running towards the back exit, Chin hurried around the tables and past the diners and employees to get to the rear as he hoped that Ben was on an intercept path and would be able to cut him off.

Kokua managed to catch up with and tackle the young man not long after he left the building. He pinned him to the ground as Chin came through the rear door. Known as somewhat of a hothead, Ben’s temper was firecracker short because of what had been happening over the last several days. As Chin Ho came down the steps and approached, Ben slammed the young Oriental’s head to the ground.

“Well, if it isn’t Leo Chong. Why were you running, Leo? A bit nervous perhaps?”

“I got nothing to hide from you.”

Leaning down, Kelly pulled Kokua off the younger man. Shooting him a swift glance that was both stern and cautionary, he held the Samoan detective back with a hand on his chest as he grabbed Chong’s collar, pulling the Oriental to his feet. Respectful of his heritage if not the position that Kelly held, Leo Chong had the grace to be uncomfortable under the stare he got from the detective. Ben remained silent as Chin did the questioning.

“If you got nothing to hide, then tell me what you know about Wo Fat’s little visit? And how deeply involved in his plans you’ve been?”

“Haven’t been. Not this time. You want to find his new shadow, then you find Ming Chow. He’s the puppet for now.”

“Where is Ming Chow?”

“Don’t know, man! Haven’t seen him.”

“Think, Leo! Before my friend here gets a little more jumpy and I decide to not hold him back.”

Chong glanced nervously in Kokua’s direction. “I swear I don’t know!”

“What do you know about Wo Fat’s poison?”

“Poison? What do you mean?”

“Don’t you listen to the news?”

“Look, the only thing I know is that he was here. Don’t have a clue as to why or what he did this time. Did he have something to do with that missing police officer that the newspapers talked about?”

The two Five-O men gave him scant additional information and he appeared surprised and swore that he knew nothing about whatever had been done to the unit’s second in command. Reluctantly but with the promise of knowing his whereabouts and the threat of a return visit should anything appear not ordinary or they thought he might have lied to them, the two detectives allowed Chong to leave and then dejectedly moved to their vehicle.

Once settled inside, Kokua, straining with his flashpoint temper, slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “No where!! We’re getting no where with this and Danny is…”

Chin cut him off before he could complete the thought. “Don’t. Don’t think it. Don’t say it.” He paused as if to gather his thoughts or emotions. “We’ll find something soon, bruddah.”

Turning a stormy expression to face the other detective, Ben’s voice was low and unsteady, further proof of the jumble of emotions that were coursing through them all. “But will it be soon enough?”

*****

Standing at the foot of the bed, Bergman did his best to appear to be reading something that was written in Dan’s chart. In actuality he, as well as Duke Lukela, were more interested in the Five-O boss. McGarrett had been following Bergman so closely as they went towards the room that when Doc had moved off Steve slowed his stride a little, suddenly ill at the thought of what he might find. The ‘whoosh – swoosh’ of the respirator penetrated his hearing and he stopped a foot or two away from Dan’s bedside.

Duke Lukela came up just behind him and stopped as well. Knowing that he could not glance at the patient in the bed without reacting, Duke concerned himself with McGarrett. Steve’s reactions, covert to some, were quite noticeable to those who had seen them before and, to a lesser degree, Lukela had. The closest McGarrett had ever come to as full a reaction as Duke believed he was observing had been when the terrorist group kidnapped Danny earlier in the year. There had been an underlying desperation in all of them then as the group had taken pleasure in killing simply to raise the body count attributed to them. Duke had never voiced his thoughts to anyone back then but he had been sure that they would never get Danny back alive. He knew that Chin and Ben had been equally fretful but none of them could top McGarrett. His desperation had simmered beneath an anger that Duke had never seen before and had hoped to never see again. The desperation manifesting itself in an inability to even leave the office as Steve had slept there until the situation was resolved.

But now Lukela saw more than that reaction in McGarrett and it alarmed him. The brief snippet he had tried not to overhear earlier – it had told him more than he would have ever guessed about the relationship between the two detectives.

Duke finally looked over at Dan. For years, he, like most everyone else, had assumed that the close friendship between McGarrett and Williams had been mostly beneficial to the younger cop as McGarrett had trained him, worked with him, and helped to hone natural abilities into solid cop skills. Duke had seen the possibilities before but had ignored all of the signs until today. Today, earlier, it had been slammed home in a confirmation to him that Steve needed Danny as much or more than Dan needed Steve. McGarrett, Duke now understood, would lose more than just a second in command or an understudy.

Lukela’s thoughts were interrupted by what sounded like a gasp. At first, he assumed the gasp came from Williams but nearly instantly he knew it had come from McGarrett. Turning a little, Duke thought about saying something to Steve but wasn’t sure of how to comfort someone who never seemed to need it.

Before he could think of an appropriate comment, McGarrett turned and left the room. He brushed by Napoleon and Illya as if they weren’t there and moved out into the hallway, taking several steps away from the entry to the room. Yet he was unable to go further and he sagged, his steps slowing until he stood still. The two East Coast spies remained where they had been standing just outside the door while Doc & Duke watched the boss from the doorway.

Even though he was several feet away, McGarrett heard nothing but the noise of the respirator coming from Dan’s room. It filled his head, blocking out all other sounds. The men watched as Steve slumped against the wall, shoulders hunched as his lower back leaned into the structure. He was so tired physically at this point. Since Danno’s collapse and Bergman calling him back to the hospital, he had refused to leave his friend’s side for more than brief periods of time. At first convinced that together they could survive this the way they always did with Williams relying on McGarrett’s strength when his own ran out, now, although he probably couldn’t admit it, he wasn’t convinced that they would make it through this latest crisis. It didn’t help McGarrett’s normally steadfast determination that this crisis was similar to another that had been buried in his memory. Those flashes of recollection were being dredged up continuously now and Steve would do nearly anything to make sure that history did not repeat itself this time. His head fell forward, jaw touching his chest as his lips moved but no one could hear what he was saying or manage to read his lips.

After several seconds, Bergman shook his head and withdrew into the room, intent on monitoring his patient. He knew better than to make a public declaration of his concern, knowing that he would not get an honest admission from McGarrett. Duke took several steps towards the boss. His intent was to hear what McGarrett was saying although he had a suspicion that he would not like it. Coming to within inches of McGarrett, Duke contemplated saying something to him but decided against it, aware that he needed to just listen.

Sighing deeply, Steve was oblivious to the approach. A shudder seemed to move through him and then Duke heard the whisper. “He’s gonna die. Before I can do anything to help him. I promised I’d help him then and they wouldn’t even let me in the room.” Another deep breath. As if just the thought were too much for him to bear. “He looks dead already. Hooked up to that machine. He’d hate it if he were awake. I should never have let him be put on that thing. We talked about it. I know how he feels and yet…”

Unable to allow McGarrett to continue the depressing commentary, Duke moved up next to him. “Steve, what are you talking about? What is going on? It’s more than just you being tired and what is going on with Danny.”

He paused as he debated whether or not he should say what he was thinking. He knew he was nosing into territory that he really had no business being in. But Steve was acting as if history was repeating itself and although they’d come close before, Danny had never actually died.

Always frank with those who knew him, he continued. “You would never give up like this. Besides who’s going to keep Danny focused when he wakes up?”

McGarrett eventually turned to look at the Hawaiian officer. There was a look of exhausted hopelessness on his face that seemed to have gotten more devastated as the minutes had ticked by. Duke knew that this was more alarming than Danny being kidnapped or shot or blamed for something. This time McGarrett seemed to truly believe that the outcome would be life altering for all of them. After just a brief moment, Lukela watched as the expression on McGarrett’s face closed and the emotion disappeared behind the tough mask that most saw on the man.

“I’m just tired, Duke. What I said doesn’t mean anything. Danno will be fine.”

The words were the words that Lukela expected to hear but this time there was no conviction behind them. Duke could not get the image of McGarrett’s eyes out of his mind – the desperation and pain he had seen there for a brief moment. He would never forget it but also never mention it to anyone, least of all to McGarrett himself.

Slowly, Duke was able to draw Steve over to where Napoleon and Illya stood. By unspoken agreement neither one mentioned what McGarrett had muttered when Duke had come up next to him. Both of the spies avoiding making eye contact with the detective. Illya was uncomfortable with the entire scenario being the stoic Russian that he liked to pretend to be. Napoleon was frankly shocked at the changes he saw in McGarrett and, even though he understood the growth that had happened and why, he knew he would prefer to see the in-control-former intelligence-turned-state-cop return. Unsure of the next move, Napoleon decided that he needed to somehow get McGarrett to explain why he had summoned him to the Islands.

“Steve, I doubt I’d be wrong in assuming that you probably have nearly every cop in the state working on this. Why bring Illya and me here as well?”

Steve stared mutely at the spy. How did he verbalize the fear and desperation he’d experienced as he watched his second-in-command and closest friend slowly choking to death earlier? Finally McGarrett shook his head slightly and Napoleon realized that the explanation would not be forthcoming.

“OK,Steve. You talked to Wo Fat earlier. Did it sound like he was still on the Islands?”

Getting no response from McGarrett, Solo let out an exaggerated breath before continuing. “If Wo Fat is still on the islands and is the one who injected Danny, we’ve got to get out there and find him! All of us need to be out there, Steve!” Solo was hoping to spark the vengeance he knew lay inside McGarrett towards the Chinese spy.

“Chin, Ben and I have been out looking for him specifically. He’s either gone underground or left the islands again. The others on the case have been concentrating on discovering what Danny was given.” Duke replied, knowing Steve wouldn’t. Also Lukela had discerned where Solo was headed with his statements regarding the Chinese spy and didn’t like the insinuation concerning who needed to be out on the street. He was hoping to point out that the general consensus was that McGarrett needed to stay right here with Williams.

If he were out on the street, then the other detectives knew they would be preoccupied with the possibility of an eruption from McGarrett and might miss a lead concerning the poison. By having Steve stay at the hospital, Duke knew it took care of the concern for McGarrett as well as knowing that, somehow, Steve would make sure that Danny stayed alive until they found a way to save him. None of the detectives could explain how, they simply knew without, a shadow of a doubt, that Steve would make sure that Danny was around when they finally found the way to save him.

McGarrett visibly wavered. “Napoleon is right. I’m wasting time that I could use to save Danno’s life!”

“Steve, no!”

“Duke, I know Wo Fat better than any of you and I’ve been doing nothing but sitting around here.”

Before McGarrett could say anything else, a loud alarm sounded from the ventilator in Dan’s room. All eyes turned first towards the head of the bed to the respirator and then two pairs searched out Bergman, who had remained in the room when McGarrett bolted. Both Steve and Duke stared at the doctor looking for the reassurance that they didn’t need to worry. Unable to stop himself, McGarrett took a few steps closer to the door, stopping just inside the doorway. Duke, Napoleon and Illya gathered close behind him.

In the room, Bergman had performed a quick check of the various dials and gauges on the respirator. When he shook his head, McGarrett took that as an indication that there was nothing wrong. Consequently he was startled when the machine’s alarm blared again.

“Doc??” The one word question croaked from McGarrett’s mouth but was essentially ignored by Bergman as he stared again at the machine. Assured that there wasn’t anything wrong with the equipment he nodded his head knowingly and then turned away from the apparatus towards the bed.

“Danny…Danny, it’s Doctor Bergman. I know the sedation is wearing off. Can you hear me?”

As if in response to the question, the machine buzzed again but Dan’s eyes remained deceptively closed.

“Danny, you have a tube in your mouth to help you breathe. Don’t fight it. Just work with it.”

The machine buzzed again and, irritated, Bergman slapped at a button on it before turning towards the door. “I’d forgotten how much Danny hates these machines,” he commented as he drew nearer to the detectives.

“What do you mean, Doc?”

“For all the times he’s been shot, he’s never tolerated these machines well. I’ve always had to remove them and just put him on oxygen as soon as he started to regain consciousness.”

McGarrett nodded as an earlier memory of watching Dan fight the machine played in his mind. “So are you taking him off of it?”

“Steve, at this stage I can’t. Remember what he was like a couple of hours ago. His breathing. If I take him off the machine now, I can’t tell you how long he’ll have. Right now this is his best chance to stay alive and give you boys more time.” Bergman spoke with more vehemence than either detective had ever heard from him before.

As the meaning of Bergman’s words sunk in, McGarrett turned in the doorway to lean against it. The outward sign of not being able to handle what was being said surprising Napoleon. Unable to stop his memories, the spy thought about the only other time he remembered seeing McGarrett as unhinged as he currently was. It had not been a time that Solo wished to remember.

“What is it that needs to be done?” Illya asked the question that neither Duke nor Steve appeared to be able to ask.

“Well the obvious thing would be to figure out what he was given.” Bergman couldn’t stop the sarcastic comment but then quickly followed it up. “Until you gentlemen manage that I’ll have to keep him sedated. It’s the only way he won’t fight the machine.” To the two Hawaiian cops, the tone in Bergman’s voice clearly indicated it wasn’t what he willingly wanted to do. But he also obviously felt as if he had no choice.

“There has to be another way,” Duke whispered.

The alarm buzzed again and Bergman turned towards the bed. Before he could get close to it, Steve pushed himself away from the door jam and robotically moved into the room. Coming to stand next to the bed, he leaned over to place a hand near Dan’s shoulder.

“Danno, you need to relax. Don’t fight the machine. Let it breathe for you.”

Bergman came up behind Steve and hit the switch to silence the machine and the room grew quiet. However that quiet only lasted for a few seconds and then the alarm on the machine buzzed again, seemingly louder and longer. The hand that had been near Dan moved to his shoulder as McGarrett tried again to calm him down while Doc silenced the machine.

“Danno, I know you hate these things but you did not give me much of a choice. Now, aikane, you need to settle down!”

After a minute of quiet, Steve spoke again. “Danno, Doc thinks that you are waking up so if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.” He reached down to place his fingers inside Dan’s palm.

Still watching from the side of the bed near the machine, Bergman waited to see how Danny responded. Several seconds past but neither man could detect any answer. Bergman turned away, concentrating on the dials and gauges that he was unable to clearly see. He’d been certain that Danny was coming out of the sedation yet now he found himself second-guessing himself.

McGarrett grimaced when Williams remained still but then he paused and studied the seemingly blank expression on the patient’s face. He moved his fingers against Dan’s palm and he rubbed it lightly. He sensed more than felt a slowly growing tenseness in the hand until ever so slightly Danny’s fingers flexed a little around Steve’s. Unsure of what was happening, Bergman realized that the alarm on the respirator had remained quiet since Steve had nearly yelled at Williams.

“You’re right, Doc. He is waking up.” Not wanting to move a lot, Steve adjusted his body just enough so that Bergman could see Danny’s hand.

“Ask him to open his eyes, Steve.”

McGarrett leaned closer and whispered the request to Williams. Bergman watched from where he had been, not wanting to intrude. Duke had taken a couple of steps into the room but still remained close to the door while Napoleon and Illya remained at the doorway. No one moved as if doing so would break some sort of cosmic force that was present among them.

Steve’s hand rested on Dan’s shoulder as he studied the younger face for any sign of response. Not seeing anything and impatiently needing some sort of confirmation that he hadn’t made the worst decision of his life, he moved his hand up to the side of his cheek and lightly ran his fingers across his friend’s cheek.

“Come on, Danno. Time to wake up, aikane.” Finally he noticed the eyelids moving, fluttering. He whispered even softer than before and this time was rewarded with a brief glimpse of unfocused, blue eyes, before the lids slid shut again. But now Steve had hope and a feeling of relief settled on him as he believed that Dan had seen him and knew he was there. That had to mean that what they had done was making a difference. Perhaps the poison was working its way out of the body on its own. Now filled with the false elation and hope, he leaned next to Dan’s ear and whispered to him.

Suddenly uncomfortable with witnessing what was, in his mind, such a private scene Illya looked away. Feeling very much like an intruder, Napoleon knew he should do the same but found he couldn’t. He was simply amazed – no, shocked – at the change in McGarrett. The raging, about to erupt volcano that he had seen in the waiting room was now someone who wasn’t speaking above a quiet whisper as he leaned close over the hospital bed. Napoleon couldn’t help but wonder how often a scene like this had occurred and wondered if it would have been the same so many years ago overseas. Duke looked over at Bergman who was also trying to not stare at McGarrett and Williams.

Solo glanced over at his partner and the Hawaiian detective. “We’ve got to get out of here. We aren’t doing him any good just standing around here. Although I really am not quite sure why Steve wanted us here. It appears you are doing everything you can in the search.”

Illya nodded in agreement. Not one to particularly enjoy anything having to do with hospitals or clinics, he was anxious to leave and do what he thought he and his partner had flown cross-country for. But Duke gave no indication that he’d heard what the spy said. Although he was also trying to not listen to what McGarrett was saying.

“You’ve got to keep fighting this, Danno, just for a little while longer. I’m going to go out and find Wo Fat and his band of merry men. I’ll bring back either the ingredients of what they gave you or the way to counteract it. You just hold on. You hear?” He let go of Danny’s hand then and moved towards the door. “Let’s go, Duke,” he whispered and then the four of them headed out the door in the direction of the elevators.

Napoleon and Illya were oddly silent as they waited for the elevators. Duke took furtive glances at McGarrett, surprised and not at all happy with the idea that the boss was actually leaving the hospital. As they rode down to the first floor, Napoleon itched to ask McGarrett how he wanted to pursue the Chinese spy yet something kept him quiet. He was bothered like he hadn’t been in a while with memories – memories of a time in a field hospital when Steve McGarrett, the hotshot with the cool reputation who was quickly climbing the career ladder in NI, had quietly yet ferociously paced a hall for hours only to learn that his prayers and concern had gone unanswered. Napoleon had never understood what had drawn McGarrett into such an unlikely, albeit brief, friendship with the younger soldier. After the news of the death had been delivered, Solo had watched his old friend as closely as he could then dismayed at the shuttering of emotions and the walls he saw going up. He hadn’t believed anything, any emotion, would ever get to McGarrett after that. He knew now that he was wrong. Getting off the elevator, the four were almost at the entrance doors to the hospital when Duke suddenly stopped and fixed a stare on the head of Five-O.

“Steve. This is wrong.”

McGarrett stopped and turned to look at the Hawaiian officer. He’d known Lukela for several years and considered him a friend but not even his friends spoke to him in the tone that this man had just used.

“What is wrong about my going to find out what that slime gave Danno?”

Napoleon thought about interjecting a response to what was probably more of a rhetorical question. He felt that the head of Five-O needed to be out of the depressing building and doing something more concrete and constructive. A quick glance at Illya silenced him though as the Russian slightly shook his head.

Lukela slowly blew out a careful breath. He knew what he wanted to say but thought that he needed to do so in a way that didn’t enflame the emotions that were already warring inside McGarrett.

“Steve, that’s what you’ve got us for, remember? Chin, Ben and myself – let us spearhead the search. Besides you leave here and where is your mind going to be? Not out there, not completely focused. You know it’s going to be here – with Danny. So stay here. “ He glanced over at Solo and Kuryakin. “Besides, isn’t that why those two are out here? They can help us or do whatever you intended them to do when you called.”

McGarrett sighed and closed his eyes as he pinched his nose between two fingers. Never once to mince words, even with his superiors, Lukela was accurate in his statement. He could walk out of the hospital but it was upstairs where his thoughts and heart would remain.

“Stay, Steve. This is where you belong.” Duke whispered.

For the barest moment, McGarrett’s protective, self-built walls collapsed and Duke briefly glimpsed the naked fear and devastation that he had heard in the voice out in the hall. The emotions simultaneously rocked him and solidified his resolve.

“Danny will listen to you. Buy us more time and we’ll find something, boss.”

“Steve, aren’t you the one who always said that no one could do it better than you yourself? Is this something you can really just hand over to someone else to investigate?” Solo knew he was pushing way beyond the normal limits of his friendship with McGarrett. But he really felt as if the man needed to be out of the hospital and doing what he did best.

Duke watched as the resolve was visibly reinforced in the expression on McGarrett’s face. Then Steve looked away briefly before turning to glance at Napoleon and Illya. “He’s right, Napoleon. I’m not going anywhere.” The blue eyes stared into Lukela’s.

“Duke, I… need you to find something. I don’t care what it takes. You turn over every pebble on this rock if you need to.” He paused in his fervor, emotion choking him. He couldn’t afford a breakdown now especially with Napoleon and his partner there. Yet he felt as if everything was spiraling out of his control and he feared an outcome similar to a previous one. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Danno’s life depends on it!”

“Steve, we’re here, too, remember? How can Illya and I help?”

McGarrett ground his teeth as if unwilling to speak, his eyes boring into Solo’s. Finally –

“You’ve been right about one thing. We’re too close to this, Napoleon. All of us – Five-O and HPD. Go with Duke. Maybe between the two of you, either you or Illya will see something that we missed all along.”

Pausing to draw a calming breath, Steve realized that he was facing one of his insecurities. His team was the best and together, the four of them, were virtually unbeatable. But now they stood to lose someone …He couldn’t even begin to think about the price they might be forced to pay this time. He stared at Napoleon, fully aware that the spy was thinking about the time in Korea when he had been so affected by Marty’s death in the field hospital. Solo reached up and took McGarrett’s arm, pulling him off to the side.

“Steve, this is not Korea and that is your detective in that bed upstairs and not that young soldier.”

“I know that!” The reply was more of a growl. McGarrett turned and entered the stairwell, intending to run up the stairs to hasten his return to ICU.

Napoleon stared at the closed door, both disturbed and amazed at the changes he saw, reminding him again of another time. Duke turned away from the departing figure and commented on how they didn’t quite know where else to look since the Five-O detectives and HPD had been searching for Wo Fat since Dan had collapsed at the Palace.

Napoleon pulled his mind back to the business at hand. Leaning on his spy background and the authority of his position at UNCLE, he moved into his take charge, spy persona and questioned Lukela as to the circumstances surrounding Dan’s rescue at the warehouse. Unable to avoid a niggling thought at the back of his head, Solo looked at the Hawaiian.

“Let’s start with the warehouse, at the beginning. I want to go through that and see if, by chance, anything might have been missed.”

At the dark look from Duke, Napoleon quickly assured that he trusted the Hawaiian police had been thorough. “Sgt. Lukela, I’m well aware of the reputation of Hawaii’s police force. However I’m concerned that something might have been overlooked once Mr. Williams was found because of the effort to secure his freedom.”

Duke didn’t respond verbally to the mollification but tersely nodded his head. The three men then headed out the door of the hospital.

*****

Arriving back upstairs, McGarrett hurried down the hall to come to a halt just outside the entrance to Dan’s room. Seeing the shadow, Bergman barely turned away from the bed as he spoke to a nurse in the midst of what seemed to be the continuous blaring of the alarm on the ventilator machine. Uncharacteristically, he hung back, not sure of what was happening. After what seemed like an eternity to McGarrett but was really only several seconds, Bergman turned towards him.

“Steve, you’re back. I’d question it except we’ve been unable to settle him down since the four of you walked out. I don’t really want to sedate him at this point…”

Bergman’s words trailed off but they were the only permission that the cop needed to enter the room. Steve hurried forward and came to a stop next to the side of the bed. He did not want to yell but still needed to be heard over the strident alarm that blared immediately upon being silenced. McGarrett leaned over the bed rail; reaching out with his hand he moved past the IV line and laid his hand on Dan’s upper arm. He didn’t get a chance to say anything before noticing a nearly instant change in Danny. Doc had again silenced the respirator alarm and his finger remained poised over the button to hit it again as he expected it to immediately go off. He stared at the machine in surprise when it remained quiet. Whirling around he glared at McGarrett.

“Steve, what did you say to him?”

Without looking up, McGarrett replied, “Nothing. I haven’t said anything yet.”

Bergman glanced quickly at the gauges on the machines that monitored Dan. He shook his head, amazed at what he saw. “Well whatever it is you’re doing, keep it up. He’s settling down somewhat.”

McGarrett didn’t bother to answer Bergman. In truth, he was perplexed and he stared at Dan’s expressionless face as if he expected to find his answer there. Finally, he turned a little so that he could see Bergman. “But, Doc, I haven’t done anything.” Bergman didn’t answer and then McGarrett continued. “All I did was put my hand on his arm.” His tone revealed a bit of the incredulity he was experiencing.

Doc turned and silently headed for the door. He paused to snatch a chair that had been pushed against the wall and slide it over to McGarrett. “ Well then keep it there, Steve, because it’s working.” With that, he left the room and headed towards the nurses’ station.

Arriving at the desk area, Bergman sank into a seat and reached over to open Dan’s medical chart. He stared at the progress notes page and wondered how he was going to phrase the latest developments. Perplexed, he rubbed his palms over tired eyes. ‘Medical technology makes incredible advancements daily! Yet Che and I can’t figure out any ingredient in this poison. I can’t even keep him stable enough to keep that alarm from going off. Although that’s no surprise! McGarrett always has been one of the only ones who could get through to Danny.’

Sighing he picked up a pen and scribbled a few minimal notes before reaching for the phone to check in with Che Fong at his lab.

*****

Duke was silent as he drove towards the warehouse where they had ultimately found Danny. Much like he knew McGarrett would have been if he had chosen to accompany them, Lukela’s mind was back at Queens wondering why the boss had been paged back to Dan’s room. He hoped that nothing had gone wrong in the short time they had been gone but also couldn’t help but think about how relieved he was that Steve had chosen to stay at the hospital. He believed with all of his being that it was where McGarrett belonged and knew that Chin and Ben agreed with him.

In the back seat of Lukela’s police sedan, both Napoleon and Illya felt intensely uncomfortable. Illya was already concentrating on their destination, attempting to picture what they might find and identifying possible clues to the drug that they would need to watch out for.

Napoleon, needing a diversion from the somber heaviness that had been pressing in on him since his arrival at the hospital, focused on picturing what the McGarrett he used to know so well would have said had he seen Solo in the rear of the police car. He knew the Irish cop well enough to know that had the circumstances been different, Steve would have taken great amusement in have Solo sitting where he was like a common criminal. The imagined response brought the smallest of smirks to his expression and caught the attention of his partner. Kuryakin quirked an eyebrow at him but Solo shook his head, fully aware that he was only forestalling an explanation.

Once they arrived at the warehouse, Illya and Napoleon searched it thoroughly but both agreed that the uniformed police officers before them hadn't missed anything. Duke had followed them at a close distance and Napoleon realized he needed to say something to him.

“Sgt., we really didn’t mean to insinuate that the officers were incompetent…”

“Let’s just forget it. You’re an old friend of Steve’s. That’s probably why he called you. To get help from anywhere possible. Anyway, all that matters is that we find a way to help Danny not which one of us finds it.”

Illya had been off staring at the room that Duke had said they found Dan in. He walked out of it and over to the other men.

“The items that you did find – where were they taken?”

“To Che’s lab. To see if he could discover anything from them.”

“I want to go there.”

Affronted again at the suggestion the spies could do better than the 5-0 lab chief, but not up to arguing with either spy, Duke ushered them back to the car and headed off for the Palace. While he navigated the vehicle through the busy Honolulu traffic, his psyche was busy giving himself a stern lecture. Never before had Duke thought himself to be petty enough to think the thoughts that had easily come into his head. It had to be the stress and nearly inevitable death sentence that had been given the second in command. Duke Lukela was simply not someone who took umbrage with the little comments and requests that were bothering him over the last several hours. Silently he vowed to do whatever it took to make the two spies feel like they weren’t just interlopers that McGarrett had called in. After all it didn’t matter who found what as long as Danny ended up all right in the end. By the time they drew closer to the Palace, Lukela had managed to work through his previous attitude and rise above the pettiness that threatened to consume him. Upon arrival, he escorted the two downstairs and introduced them both to Che Fong. A bit impatient (or maybe it was his Russian nature coming through), Illya immediately asked questions about the tests that were being run to identify the poison. Che led him over and patiently explained what he had been doing after getting an 'all clear' nod from Lukela.

The phone on the desk rang and Duke picked it up. The caller was Chin Ho Kelly. He and Ben had returned to the offices and had seen Duke’s car. Wondering what he was doing when they didn’t find him in Five-O’s offices, they had called the only other obvious place the officer would have been inside the Palace. Chin went on to reveal that they had for the most part struck out with his relatives, except to learn that it was believed that Wo Fat was already on his way back to China. Chin went on to tell Duke that they had ordered some food and wanted to know if he was hungry. Although he couldn’t remember when he had last eaten, Duke declined and asked if either had updated McGarrett. Informed that neither detective felt it wise to disturb him, Duke agreed yet at the same time knew that he would ultimately be the one who had to tell the boss the latest news. He hung up and then told Napoleon what they had learned. He ended by saying he intended to go back to the hospital and wondered if the two spies were coming with him.

Illya quickly protested the return trip, saying that he needed to stay in the lab and work, if that was permissible. Knowing there was protocol that needed to be followed, Che quickly decided to forego it. If it would save Danny’s life, Che understood that Steve McGarrett himself would have broken every rule to facilitate the possibility. Making a decision that could either expedite a discovery or get him fired, he quickly brought this quiet, intense blonde man up to date on what had been discovered and the tests he had run in the hopes of discovering anything useful. When the dark-haired man questioned what had been learned, Che regretfully shook his head, admitting that nearly no useful information had been gleaned. It was as if the Chinese spy had carefully covered his tracks and all possible bases this time to prevent them from saving Danny.

Napoleon noted that this man also exhibited a large amount of personal regret over the revelation further indicating to him that Steve had built a team whose ties to each other ran much deeper than just oath, duty or obligation. These men, even the ones not directly involved, all seemed to truly care about each other and were quite protective over both their boss and the obvious friendship shared between the boss and the second in command. He found it interesting to say the least.

*****

Earlier in Chinatown, Chin and Ben had finally found someone who had been aware of Wo Fat’s presence on the Islands. Initially self assured and cocky over even speaking to the detectives, the sudden arrival of an older, respected distant cousin of the Kelly clan caused the twenty-something year old to willingly give out information his bravado would not have let him speak. Struggling to not visibly react to the information both detectives stalked to the car and drove off in the direction of the Palace.

Not completely surprised when the LTD finally came to a stop in front of Queens, Ben looked dejectedly over at Chin then his fist slammed into the dash. Kelly watched the newer detective as he shook his hand in mild pain and chagrin.

“Feel any better?”

Refusing to look his way, Kokua simply nodded then gazed at the building in front of them. “You know what we have to do.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean I want to do it, bruddah.”

Kelly thought back to how long he had known both McGarrett and Williams. The still young detective had seemed like such a kid when he had first impressed McGarrett and won a place on the state police unit. His really not so quick rise to second in command had bothered many in the rank and file but not Chin. Chin had been privy to what many weren’t. He had seen first hand the unswerving devotion the younger detective had to the team and the boss. Originally considered by many to be hero worship, Chin had known that the relationship between the two men went much deeper than that. Hero worship was something he considered to be mostly done from afar and blind to anything that was actually there. That did not describe what he believed Williams felt for McGarrett. Danny was not stupid. The astute detective had always been aware of the faults and shortcomings of the boss. He was simply able to over look them or to compensate for them in a way that they came out as strengths more than anything else was. It was only one of the traits of the second in command that he knew McGarrett appreciated and had come to rely on.

The two detectives walked into the hospital and up to the ICU. Nurses did not stop the two men as they headed to Williams’ room. Even though it was not yet visiting hours in the normally strictly controlled unit, the nurses allowed the men entrance without comment. There seemed to be unwritten rules for the Five-O detectives whenever one of them was a patient in the hospital but none of the medical staff – except of course for the crusty coroner who always seemed to accompany them – bothered to voice any opposition. Arriving at the door of the cubicle, the two detectives observed their boss.

Seated in a chair pulled close to the bed, McGarrett’s gaze appeared to be fixated on the person in the bed. In reality his eyes were darting around at the various machinery, trying to read what the gauges were saying as well as occasionally coming to rest on the still form. His arm extended so that his hand brushed against Dan’s as it lay on the bedcovers; this crisis was affecting Steve more than he was willing to admit even to himself. Knowing the boss longer than any of the other detectives, Kelly was aware that the drawn, haggard expression and dimmed level of fiery emotion in the ice blue eyes spoke all that McGarrett was unable to say out loud. He reached out a hand and pulled at Ben, urging him away from the room. Further back in the hallway Kokua inquired as to what was going on. Chin shook his head.

“To deliver news like this now…” He couldn’t complete the thought but Ben understood. Neither one wanted to have to tell the boss that they were out of options and nearly out of hope. Chin glanced over at the doorway and then resolutely turned towards the exit. “Let’s go back to the Palace and review everything. Maybe we missed something.”

*****

Inside the Palace, in the deep recesses where the labs were nearly hidden, Che Fong and Illya had gone over all that was done. As Illya was suggesting a few additional tests as strictly possibilities, the phone rang in the lab and Che picked it up.

“Yes, Duke. – No, nothing new, I’m afraid…” Che was silent for a few minutes as he listened. “All right, we’ll keep working over here. It’s our last option.” The scientist paused. “Duke, how did Steve…?….No, I should have figured that. Aloha.”

Hanging up the phone, he knew there were two sets of eyes staring at him. Yet he could not meet the looks right away. He needed to take a moment and compose himself. Although he had known from the beginning that the search for the solution would come to rest on his shoulders, he’d hoped to be spared the burden. Che had had enough interaction with McGarrett and Williams to not only realize what the unit and the whole department would lose, but also what the boss himself would miss should an antidote not be found for the poison. Unfortunately, although he normally had great confidence in his abilities, this time he knew in his gut that they would run out of time before he was able to discover much. Finally he glanced up at the cool blue ones and then at brown ones that held more distress in them than he had expected.

“Duke is upstairs, in the Five-O offices. He was calling…well, Chin and Ben struck out. In a way. They found out that Wo Fat has left Hawaii.”

Knowing what that meant, Napoleon let his head drop down a little. “How’s Steve?”

Che wondered again at the ties between the two spies and the Five-O chief. He had been told previously about the military connection between the dark haired spy and McGarrett but thought that it might go deeper than simply working together when both were in the service. “As far as I know no one has told him yet. Duke said that Chin and Ben went to Queens but didn’t say anything for some reason.”

Che looked around at his lab and then glanced at his watch. The timepiece showed that it was well past the normal working hours. He didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to give up the testing. However he didn’t feel like they were going to discover anything new and he was highly depressed over the idea that they were about to lose a member of the team. He made some excuses about needing to leave but did not argue when Illya insisted on remaining behind and continuing to work. Napoleon also remained behind, acting more as a cheerleader than a true scientist – that was Illya’s specialty.

Utter silence dominated the lab for a while except for the noises that Illya made as he worked. Napoleon leaned against a far counter and tried to stay out of the Russian’s way as he pondered everything that he had seen and heard along with what hadn’t been said. He couldn’t help but constantly think about how similar this situation was in some ways to the past. Marty (Solo had never known his last name) had been several years younger than any of the NI men but had been attached to their group as an escort. Although it had never been acknowledged, the entire group could see the protectiveness that McGarrett had developed for the young man. The casual friendship that had been growing mystified the others since the two seemed to have very little in common. In fact, Marty seemed to be the antithesis of the driven McGarrett. All the lad seemed to talk about was his wish to return to the family ranch in Oklahoma where he could work the land and spend time with the girlfriend he had known his entire life.

The horrific accident when they had first caught up with the unit that had been so close to the front was just that – an accident. Solo knew then from the expression on McGarrett’s face that he had instantly blamed himself. He had tried to assuage the thoughts but there was no chance of that. McGarrett had been the one who had given the order that had sent Marty out with the field unit’s scout. It didn’t seem to matter that it had been the two GI’s who had decided which one of them would veer off towards the woods right before the land mine had detonated. Ultimately McGarrett had blamed himself and would have run out with the rescue team if not for two of the men grabbing his arms in restraint.

His thoughts interrupted by the loud clearing of a throat, Napoleon looked up at his blonde partner. “What?”

“You…you were miles away from here. Or was it decades, Napoleon. What’s going on?”

Not sure that he wanted to reminisce at the moment, Solo waved his hand abstractedly. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Knowing that sooner or later his partner would have to talk to him about whatever he was musing on (and knowing Napoleon as well as he did, Illya was certain that it would undoubtedly be at an ungodly hour when he was trying to sleep), Kuryakin pursed his lips and shook his head. “Well, I guess one of us should be working and it definitely looks like that won’t be you.”

“You’re the scientist, not me, tovarich.”

“True, but one never knows what someone of your caliber might discover out there, Napoleon.”

Solo didn’t answer but Illya wasn’t surprised when the door to the lab opened and then closed several minutes later.

So engrossed was the Russian in his work that he never heard the door reopening several hours later. Solo stood close inside it and watched his partner for several minutes. Finally he chuckled.

“If I was Thrush, even your bones would be ash by now.”

“Ahhh…but Thrush would not be obvious enough to enter a room smelling like a tropical garden. What have you gotten yourself into?”

“Nothing, Illya. In fact I wasn’t even able to find out anything new about our fat friend.”

They talked for a few minutes more, but Illya could see that Napoleon was becoming even more unhappy about their lack of progress. Gradually they fell into a companionable silence while Illya continued to work.

*****

“я найденный в детских играх тот, кто водит!!”

“What?”

Kuryakin continued to speak at a much softer tone in his native Russian, not bothering to answer Solo. Slowly Napoleon realized that, although his partner had definitely discovered something, he wasn’t prepared to share the information as yet. He sighed, aware that he would need to be quiet and somewhat patient until Illya spoke – in English.

*****

Illya hung up the phone, a bit frustrated at the conversation.

“What is it?”

“They’re shipping it tonight – if they can package it fast enough. I should have it some time tomorrow.”

“They’re doing the best they can, tovarich.”

“I know. It’s just that the way that doctor is talking, I’m not sure that we have that long.” The blond ran a hand through his hair for once his frustration was readily apparent. “I really think I’m close, Napoleon.”

Napoleon reached over and put an arm around his partner’s shoulders. “You are doing all that you can and more. We just need to wait and believe that the chemical will arrive in time and that the mixture you create will work. Now let’s put this away and go get something decent to eat.”

The Russian took a minute to think it over and then nodded his head. As he stored away the various chemical vials as well as the larger container he’d been experimenting with, Solo continued talking, wondering if they should stop by the medical center and update both Steve and the doctor.

“I did not want to in case I am unable to concoct the proper mixture, Napoleon.”

“I understand that, however in light of what you might have discovered we need to advise that doctor of the possible complications.’

“Da, you are right. It’s just that I also do not want to create a false hope.”

“Agreed, we will just give the warning. But also let’s see if we can get Steve to come have a meal with us.”

Although he publicly agreed with the thought, privately, Kuryakin felt that there would be little that would pull the Hawaiian detective from the hospital room where he had maintained his vigil.

*****

Bergman stood at the door to Danny’s room, quietly observing the two detectives before finally making his way to the nurses’ station. He picked up Williams’ chart to make a note in it and read the latest lab results. One of the nurses came up near him.

“It’s been over a day now, Doctor, and that detective has only left the room once when you sent him out this morning. Even then I heard that he only went to the waiting room and got a cup of coffee.”

Bergman sighed and put the chart on the desk without even reading it. He knew he had an even bigger problem on his hands than just Dan’s deteriorating condition – as if that wasn’t enough. He’d had a feeling that Steve had not gone very far when he had ordered him to leave for a while and go get something to eat. If he didn’t do something, he was afraid that he’d end up with two patients soon. Somehow he had to get McGarrett out of the room. Even better, out of the hospital. He wondered how he could manage it short of having security kick the cop out. Blunt, which was the reason why McGarrett preferred to have him around, and often cantankerous on the best of days, this current crisis had pushed the medical examiner to his limit and beyond. He walked over to the room, forever grateful for the fact that most of his patients were unable to disagree with him, and then next to McGarrett.

“Steve, you need to take a break and leave for a while.”

McGarrett didn’t reply, but shook his head negatively.

“Steve, you’re tired. You need to get some rest.”

“I’m fine.” The short, terse reply was further proof of McGarrett’s current state.

Bergman didn’t reply but took a minute to study the Five-O chief. Steve looked as weary and strained as he could ever remember seeing him. But worse there was a fear in his eyes and, actually all over his face that Bergman could not recall ever seeing in any other crisis. In the past whenever something had happened to Danny, Steve would remain glued to the detective’s side until the crisis had passed. Now with the situation as dire as it was, Bergman was concerned that Steve would completely collapse if the worst were to happen at this point.

“Steve, at least go get something to eat. Or another cup of that god awful coffee you’ve been surviving on.”

McGarrett acidly glanced up at the doctor. “Think back, Doc. Remember what’s happened nearly every time I’ve left this room.”

Although wanting to reply that Dan had no idea that Steve was there with him or not, Bergman couldn’t because, in his heart, he believed that it wasn’t true. He could rationalize the thought in his mind. Had, in fact, long given up attempting to figure out the force behind the relationship between the two cops. He simply knew that the stranger and more medically impossible the occurrence, the more likely it was to happen with these two and like so many other happenings, he would simply credit it to the odds-defying bond between McGarrett and Williams. It was that bond that had undoubtedly saved both of the men’s lives before and now, whether he realized it or not, Doc knew that it was that bond that Steve was relying on to pull Danny through this. Until some 11^th hour miracle was found. He hoped it would not fail any of them this time, however he wasn’t sure he had the faith in it. Sighing deeply, he told Steve that he would be at the nurses’ station if he were needed.

*****

Stubbornly, McGarrett refused to acknowledge the doctor’s departure. The exchange of words with the irritable medical examiner had only served to fuel his determination and strengthen his resolve. He felt more than understood that Danno was aware of his presence and also knew whenever he left the room. Almost as if McGarrett’s leaving was the permission Williams needed to give up. He didn’t intend for that to happen again. Danno had to make it - had to survive until they found a way to save him and if it took every ounce of strength and stamina from Steve to happen then so be it. Settling deeper into the chair that was next to the bed, Steve ran a hand over his face. He was exhausted from the crisis and stressed from all of the caffeine he had consumed recently. Also there was the ever-growing fear deep inside that they were going to lose this battle. He couldn’t even fathom what such a personal loss would be for him; he grew numb with barely the thought of it.

Knowing that he couldn’t prevent his mind and body from escaping to some direly needed rest, Steve felt it necessary to somehow still have physical contact with Danny. He reached out a hand to cover Dan’s still one. “I’m still here, Danno. You can’t give up yet. You have to keep fighting this, you hear me?” He paused, stopping to again think back to another time and another place where he had asked someone to keep fighting, to not give up. It hadn’t worked then no matter how much he had pleaded. It had to work now. Unknowingly, almost reflexively, patting the hand under his, he whispered. “Consider that an order.” The room grew quiet except for the ventilator as both men slumbered.

*****

Exiting the elevator, Napoleon moved off towards the waiting area only to be called back by his partner. “You know that McGarrett won’t be in that room,” the Russian told him.

Admitting that it was the truth, the spy headed off to accompany his partner down the hallway of the ICU. They came to a stop at the doorway of Williams’ room. Napoleon took a step into the room before a sound from his partner made him stop. He turned back towards him with a questioning look on his face. The Russian didn’t reply, at least verbally. Instead he chose to arch an eyebrow and nod his head towards the bed. Solo turned and observed the room’s two occupants.

McGarrett was seated in a chair that was pulled close beside the bed facing the patient. However, the spy noted that, although it was not that late, the detective appeared to have fallen asleep. Solo intended on waking his old friend and went to move closer to him. In a flash he found his arm grabbed by Illya. He turned and saw Illya sternly shake his head in a way that only the Russian could.

“No, we can’t wake him. This is what he needs, Napoleon. We need to leave them alone.”

Originally assuming that Illya was speaking of Steve needing to sleep, Solo turned towards the bed again. This time he finally saw what Kuryakin obviously did. McGarrett’s head was canted towards his chest at an unnatural and undoubtedly uncomfortable angle but it was hand that caught the spy’s attention. Still resting on the bed, his fingers were now tightly entwined with Danny’s. Solo observed the scene but did not comprehend exactly what he was seeing at first. What he was currently seeing was completely against the McGarrett that he had known since the Korea. Not to mention the knowledge that McGarrett had a hair-trigger awake reflex and was able to come fully alert at the slightest noise or movement from either himself or anything around him.

“Illya…” It was a statement or question that was never finished as the Russian shook his head.

“Napoleon, we need to leave.” He firmly placed a hand on Solo’s arm and pulled him out of the room.

They had just passed the nurses’ station and were almost at the door to the unit when suddenly Doctor Bergman spotted them. He jumped up and went after them, hoping that maybe he had found a way to get Steve out of the room. However when he first broached the subject, neither man seemed very receptive to the idea.

“Steve needs a break, gentlemen.”

“Sir, at this point, I don’t think we’d be able to get him to leave.”

“The two of you don’t understand. If Steve doesn’t get out of here for a while and at least go shower and eat something, do something normal, I’m worried that if something happens to Danny, Steve will flip out or worse.”

Solo’s eyes narrowed as Bergman’s voice dropped to a near whisper with the last two words. “What do you mean, Doctor?”

Not knowing the two spies very well, the coroner felt as if he was betraying the detectives by having the conversation with them. However at this point he had to admit that he was worried enough about McGarrett to take drastic measures. He glanced down and gruffly replied. “I’m concerned that we might lose both of them.”

Solo was visibly shocked.

“He’s too focused. If – when we lose Danny….”

Solo shook his head. “Not the McGarrett I know.”

Kuryakin gave a thoughtful nod. “As you have so noted, he is no longer the same friend you once knew.”

Napoleon was silent for several minutes. His mind replaying past scenes where he had truly worried about the mental and emotional state of McGarrett. It had been years since he had even thought that such a concern could develop again. Clearly though Illya and he were right. Steve had changed dramatically during his years here in Hawaii. While not undergoing a complete 360-degree change, he resembled more of the McGarrett from Korea after the land mine had detonated on their scout. Gradually he regained his composure and agreed to go convince McGarrett of the need to leave for a while. As he turned away, he fixed Illya with a very meaningful stare – one that was not lost on Bergman.

The doctor shot the blond spy a narrow eyed look of his own. He had seen looks like that before – usually passing between the two men that he was now so concerned about. “What was that look for?”

“Dr. Bergman, I have been spending time in Palace labs and may have discovered something.”

Bergman instantly assumed that they had found a way to counter act the poison. Illya hated to completely deny the possibility and felt nearly remorseful when he saw the look on the haggard face.

“No, sir, not at this time. However I do know more about the poison. I’m afraid that Mr. Williams might be prone to convulsions or other side effects with this.”

“But he hasn’t had any yet.”

“I understand. However I feel it is something you need to watch for. “

“What side effects are you thinking we might see?”

“I can’t be sure at this point. It could be a seizure or convulsion or it could go as serious as his heart stopping.”

Knowing he was too tired to suppress his own reaction to the news, Bergman went to the nurses’ station to write a note on Dan’s chart. Then he went down to his own offices to change into the spare shirt that he kept down there. He was no where to be seen when Napoleon and Illya left the unit with a very reluctant Steve McGarrett in tow.

*****

McGarrett entered a favorite restaurant with Napoleon and Illya. The two spies looked around in amazement. Illya nearly chuckled at the mere thought of his dapper partner entering an establishment such as this and Napoleon had to wonder if McGarrett had finally snapped. The restaurant was in obvious need of serious redecorating. Neither spy could fathom someone intentionally decorating the area the way they had. From the blue vinyl on the seat cushions to the odd tapestry wallpaper, the room screamed of a 1950’s style, Las Vegas type setting.

Napoleon looked around at the décor that did not seem to go with the image he had of his old friend. “Do you come here often, Steve?”

Before McGarrett could answer, the maitre d’ met them. “Ah…Mr. McGarrett, it’s been a while. Three? Will Mr. Williams be joining you?”

Steve stared, unable to respond due to the images that were playing in his mind. Solo stepped up to rescue him. “No, sir, he won’t be joining us. It is just the three of us today.”

“Very good, sir. Follow me please.”

Illya moved off and Napoleon took a hold of McGarrett’s arm to lead him towards the table.

“Enjoy your meal.” The menus were set in front of the men and the maitre d disappeared.

The two spies picked up the menus as if they might come alive and bite them again glancing around at the questionable décor. Solo noted that McGarrett did not even bother to open his and appeared to know exactly what he wanted. He wondered how often the cop ate here, his tone belying his surprise that Steve would even enter such a place.

“Actually this is one of Danno’s favorite places and he brought me here,” Steve paused, as the memory nearly strangled him. He couldn’t meet their eyes but finished the comment in a rush. “He brought me here on my last birthday.” He saw the two men slowly glance around again and smiled a little. Their reactions were so typical of his when he had first walked in. Williams had nearly laughed out loud that night at the boss’ face. The décor had made a little more sense when his second in command had explained that the owner was a big fan of the Rat Pack and wanted to remember what he believed were their heyday in Las Vegas. Decorating the restaurant from that time period was the only way he could think of. Williams had insisted that the food was excellent and McGarrett had grudgingly allowed the officer to order the meal without second guessing him. Over coffee, Steve had to admit that his friend was right and the establishment quickly became a favorite when the two officers were able to indulge in an actual sit down meal instead of the carry-out they were usually stuck with at night.

*****

Back at the hospital, Bergman had yet to return to the Intensive Care unit, having stolen a few moments after he changed his shirt to release some of the stress he felt over the entire situation. It was a spur of the moment type decision that he would come to regret.

At the nurses’ station, the suddenly erratic vital signs and telemetry readings coming from a room were grabbing the attention of several. One of the women moved to a phone, calling the switchboard with a request to page Dr. Bergman back to ICU. Breaking the connection, she quickly redialed and then entered in the number to page the on-call resident to return to the ward. The resident beat Bergman back to the unit and moved to examine the telemetry readings on the patient.

The younger doctor stared at the screen in front of him. Essentially he was unfamiliar with the details of the case. But then for reasons he could not understand it seemed that whenever one of the men from the state police unit were brought on, the coroner arrived either right with them or shortly thereafter and took over their care. The unwritten but accepted ‘rule’ wasn’t something the brash, somewhat over-confident man agreed with but he knew that he would never be permitted to disagree with it. Now he stared at the information that was quickly coming through the screens suddenly doubting the way he was interpreting the data.

“Dr. Carter, Dr. Bergman isn’t here yet. What do you want to do?”

Not getting an answer, the nurse moved off towards the patient’s room for a physical check of the vital signs and any other observations. As she walked away, she couldn’t help but shake her head part in disgust and part in frustration. She’d worked on the unit for many years and had prior dealings with the detectives. She, for one, had never been bothered by the presence of the coroner whenever something happened to one of them. As crusty and short-tempered as the man could be, he also brought a tenacity with him that made him keep trying when other doctors might have given up. Then, of course, there was his ability to handle McGarrett. The Five-O boss scared or annoyed most of the nursing staff at Queens with both his blatant disregard for hospital procedure and the stubborn frustration he frequently possessed whenever he paced the halls. The current visit had allowed her to see another side of both men though and she found herself with a grudging respect for the policeman who refused to leave and the doctor who wouldn’t give up.

Back at the nurses’ desk, Doctor Carter was asking to see the patient’s chart in the hope of better familiarizing himself with the patient. As he read the various toxicology reports and physician notes, he realized exactly how terminal the case was and wondered if he should even pursue any heroic measures. Before he could inquire as to whether or not a do-not-resuscitate order had been issued, Dr. Bergman fairly blew through the door to the unit, finally having heard the overhead page.

“What’s happening?”

Before a nurse could answer him, the one who had gone down to the room suddenly stuck her head out the doorway. At the same moment, alarms began to sound from the desk’s telemetry units.

“Dr. Carter…oh Dr. Bergman hurry, he’s coding.”

*****

At the restaurant, none of the men spoke much. Illya’s normally brooding personality made the silence second nature to him. He glanced at his partner, knowing that Napoleon found the non-action and stillness disturbing. Both men glanced over at McGarrett and Solo was again aghast by the weariness and sense of loss that were uncontrollable and very noticeable. Knowing that he needed to act, to do something to break through the gloom, Napoleon tried to think of something to say. Before he could speak he felt the unobtrusive nudge of his partner and when he glanced up was as amazed as the Russian to find that their food, ordered several minutes before, was already being carried towards the table.

“This was quick service. Our food is coming.” Illya seemed quite surprised. There was no way that places in New York ever served the two spies as quickly.

A small sad smile played on McGarrett’s face. He knew he could fully explain why their meals were so quick in arriving but doing so would bring up more memories, more emotion than he was prepared to deal with. Coming to the restaurant itself had been a mistake because his mind and senses were assailed with memories of the times he had spent here with his friend. He settled for a more generalized response than the specific story that prompted the speedy service. “I guess they have grown used to us leaving before the food arrives or jumping up and leaving in the middle of the meal.”

As they began to eat, Illya glanced at Napoleon, reading the request that was clearly on the other agent’s face. The Russian gave a brief but succinct shake of his head in the negative to which Solo responded with a curt nod and an arched eyebrow. Quickly looking down at his food, Kuryakin scowled, annoyed that his partner was obviously pulling rank on him over the issue. Finally the agent opted to not wait for his partner to do as he requested. Looking over at the man he had called friend for over a decade, Solo commented to McGarrett. “By the way, Steve, we think we might have narrowed down the identity of the active agent in the poison.”

McGarrett’s head jerked up, a thousand different reactions playing on his features. Napoleon knew what he was thinking and feeling without even looking at him. Now that he had built up McGarrett’s hopes, he did not want to have them cruelly shot down by reality so he decided to temper the earlier revelation.

“We’ll know more tomorrow, Steve.”

*****

In Williams’ room, the one nurse started administering CPR as another rolled the crash cart into the room. Both doctors entered the room at a dead run. Dr. Carter turned to the one by the defibrillator.

“400 Watts quickly!”

“NO!”

“Doctor?”

“300 watts. We don’t know how he’ll react.”

Doctor Carter grabbed the paddles and quickly zapped the patient. “No conversion! Charge it again.”

He placed the paddles on Dan’s chest and defibrillated him again. “No conversion again.” Remembering what he had read about the source of the condition as well as the predicted outcome, he glanced over at Bergman. “Well, doctor, do you want to call it now?”

Bergman leveled the resident with a steely-eyed stare that was normally reserved for McGarrett when he got too bossy. “100 cc’s Epinephrine IC.”

Bergman reached over and grabbed the syringe from the nurse. Double-checking the insertion area with a finger, Bergman turned just as he was about to insert the needle. “Charge to 400 watts this time. We aren’t going to lose him.” Then he quickly forced the drug into Dan’s system. Carter immediately placed the paddles on the patient’s chest and shocked him. Glancing back, the resident saw only a flat line on the screen and immediately replaced the paddles. “Again!”

Bergman’s eyes remained glued to the scope. “Come on, Danny!” His eyes narrowed. “Wait! Don’t shock him again!”

The other doctor whirled around and saw the end of the blip that Bergman had seen. Then there was another one. Slowly the heart rhythm grew. “He’s back. We got him back.” Bergman breathed a sigh of relief. The memory of his last conversation with McGarrett playing in his mind, Bergman feared having to tell the top cop if anything had happened to Danny after he had left the hospital due to Bergman’s machinations.

*****

Exiting the restaurant, Steve was anxious to return to the hospital.

“All right, you two, you made me eat, no doubt according to Bergman’s orders. Now I need to go back to the hospital.”

Napoleon slowly shook his head. “My friend, you are exhausted and you know it. Even more than physically, Steve. You aren’t going to do Danny any good if you are so close to a collapse. What you need is to sleep in your own bed and take care of yourself.” He held up his hand before McGarrett interrupted him. “But since we both know that you won’t do that, We’ll take you back to your apartment first and then and only then will we return you to the hospital.”

McGarrett was irritated to say the least. “I don’t need a break, a rest, a shower, or anything else that Bergman and now you have tried to force on me, Napoleon. I need to get back to the hospital.”

Solo shook his head and offered a weak smile as he shook his head. “Oh yes, you do, Steve.”

The joke fell flat and McGarrett only glared at him for a moment. Resignedly, knowing he could not win with these two, McGarrett finally agreed. “But not the apartment. It’s too far from here. Let’s go back to the Palace. I keep an extra suit there and they have a spare bathroom with a shower in the basement that I’ve used before in emergency situations.”

*****

Doctor Bergman watched from close distance as Dr. Carter did a cursory examination on the patient.

“Cardiac rhythms appear somewhat normal. No, wait…”

“Any irregularities that you see are probably a direct result of the poison, DOCTOR.” The emphasis on the final word was meant in a more sarcastic tone. Bergman had not ‘forgiven’ the resident for his seeming willingness to declare the patient dead. But ultimately Bergman understood that his attitude was centered more on what he still had to do. Yet if they hadn’t been able to bring Danny back…As it was, he still had to explain the recent happenings to Steve McGarrett when he returned – not exactly something that Bergman wanted to even think about doing.

Before he could say or do anything else, a nurse called to him from the doorway. “Doctor Bergman, you wanted to be told. The front desk just called. Mr. McGarrett is on his way back up.”

“Damn, I don’t want to have to tell Steve this.” Then he left the room, intent on meeting the Five-O chief before he even entered the unit.

As the elevators doors slid open, McGarrett, Solo and Kuryakin stepped off and into the path of a pacing Doctor Bergman. He glanced up and before either of the three could comment, he focused on McGarrett. “Steve, I need to talk before you see Danny.”

A certain resonance in the tone and too familiar body language told McGarrett that this news was something he did not want to hear. Steve’s chest constricted in fear while he tried to remain outwardly calm. He faced the doctor. “I knew I shouldn’t have left. What happened?”

“Not here. Let’s go somewhere more private. Perhaps in to the doctor’s lounge.”

As the two men moved off, Napoleon and Illya followed closely, concerned and curious as to the latest development. Upon entering the room, McGarrett noticed another man in the room. He looked to Bergman as if expecting him to immediately move the conference. He noticed a brief flicker of annoyance on the coroner’s expression but was not sure if it was directed at the other doctor or at himself. Bergman paused and then he turned to the detective.

“Steve, this is Doctor D.L. Carter, senior ICU resident. Dr. Carter, meet Steve McGarrett. He’s the head of Five-O. ”

McGarrett ignored the doctor’s outstretched hand and fixated on Bergman. “Doc, what happened to Danno?” His tone indicating that he would not accept any more of what he considered to be Doc’s hedging or unwillingness to relieve whatever had occurred while he was gone.

“Not long after you left, Danny… Well, Steve, his vital signs dropped. Severely. And it appears that he had a small convulsion.”

McGarrett’s eyes narrowed but all in the room heard Illya’s whisper. “I was afraid of that possibility.”

“But he’s fine now, right?” Napoleon’s eyes darted from his partner to the Five-O boss. He did not like the tenseness in either of them and knew that one or both were on the verge of a volcanic eruption.

Not sensing the thick level of emotion in the room or correctly reading the body language, Carter locked on the calm logic in Solo’s voice and detected the East coast accent. Here, he thought, was someone who was reasonable. Perhaps this man understood the true futility of keeping the patient alive. However when he voiced his logical, professional opinion on the case, he did not get the response from any of them that he thought he would.

Three pairs of eyes turned and faced the resident with icy stares. He was dismayed that the dark haired, Easterner was one of them. The fourth person leaped from where he was, lunging at the younger doctor. Napoleon was barely able to pull him away and needed to use all of his strength to hold the detective back. “Steve, this won’t do any good at all.”

Bergman glanced at the detective and was unnerved by the look in the detective’s normally stoic expression. He glanced at the resident. “Leave now.”

Carter read the serious tone of the warning and quickly left the room. McGarrett broke free of Solo’s hold and started towards the door. Napoleon took a half step forward. “Steve, where are you going?”

“I’m going to see Danno.”

“Steve,” Bergman spoke quickly, “wait. There’s more, Steve.”

McGarrett froze with his hand on the doorknob. He didn’t turn around to look at the doctor or anyone else in the room. “Doc?” There was raw fear in voice.

“He’s alive.” Bergman quickly reassured. “We did lose him for a while though and I wasn’t sure we were going to get him back, but we did. He’s stable, for the most part. As stable as he could be considering…”

McGarrett didn’t reply or wait for Bergman to finish his sentence. He simply opened the door and left the room. Bergman watched Steve walk out the door. Napoleon and Illya both rose from their seats, intent on going after McGarrett. Before they could walk out of the room, Bergman’s gaze fixated on them.

“No, you two stay right here. I need to talk to you.”

The spies turned around. Bergman looked exceedingly uncomfortable again but he knew he had no other choice but to broach the subject.

“Look, I can’t tell Steve this but Danny doesn’t have that much longer. Are you guys at all close to discovering what he was given?”

Each glanced at the other. Napoleon knew that Illya did not wish to reveal what he had been doing recently. The Russian was a bit of a perfectionist. (Solo would call him paranoid at times.) He hated revealing a plan or move that wasn’t completely thought through believing that, by doing so, he was dooming it to failure. “We need twenty-four hours, Doctor.”

“I don’t know that I can give you that long. I’ll try but it may be close.”

Down the hall, McGarrett had just reached Williams’ room. He hung back in the doorway for a few moments before finally moving forward. He glanced around by the bed but did not see the chair that he had spent so much time in of late. Not bothering to extensively look for it, he simply lowered the side rail of the bed and sat next to his friend.

Funny, he couldn’t really see any difference in Williams now from before he had left. Maybe, just maybe Bergman was wrong. In the realistic corner of his mind, McGarrett knew how impossible the thought was. The coroner was like an auxiliary member of the team and McGarrett knew that he was as concerned about what was happening as everyone else.

Reaching down, he lifted Danny’s hand off the bed and held it in both of his own. Even through the shock of what he had just heard and the guilt he felt about leaving, Steve understood what Bergman hadn’t said. He hadn’t said that Danny was still holding his own, that the respirator was still making a difference. Steve figured that meant that they were nearly out of time. He also knew that he would use every last minute to plead with his friend, to demand that he continue to fight and not give up.

“Danno, you need to beat this. You need to come back from where ever you are. I can’t…I need…”

For McGarrett, the admission was more emotional than any he’d ever made before.

Napoleon and Illya watched from doorway, not wanting to intrude yet feeling like they were already imposing – hearing a conversation that they had no right to hear. Feeling unusually helpless and looking around the room, Solo spied the chair that had previously been next to the bed. He walked over to it and carried it over to McGarrett. Placing it close to the bed, he eyed the friend he had once known so well, amazed again over the changes he saw.

“Steve, come on. Sit here in the chair where you were earlier. I know we can’t get you to go home so at least sit next to him. You’ll be more comfortable than trying to balance on the side of the bed.”

Reluctantly, without breaking the clasp he had of Dan’s hand, Steve moved to the chair but made no acknowledgment to either man’s presence.

Solo knew that the cop was virtually unaware of his continued presence but there was something he felt that he needed to say. “Steve,” he leaned close to the man so that no one else would understand his words. “This isn’t Marty. This isn’t the same thing, Steve. You have to understand that.”

When no reply came, Napoleon drifted back towards the doorway, not wanting to leave yet feeling that he was more of an intrusion in a private scene with a cast of only two. After a brief period he felt a firm tug on his arm and he allowed Illya to pull him away from the room. As they got near to the unit’s door, they noticed Bergman standing in the hall. Without knowing the man well, Solo knew that, like his old friend, Bergman would also remain here for the entire night.

“Doctor, I know you don’t know us very well but should…when…if something happens, please call us.” He gave the name of their hotel and Bergman briefly nodded.

As he watched the two International spies walk away, Doc mentally added them to his already lengthy list of people who wanted to be called. He hoped that he didn’t have to make any calls and that Chin, Ben and Duke would be able to actually rest unlike their boss.

*****

Arriving back in their hotel room, Napoleon had just gotten ready for bed and was about to climb between the covers when he noticed his partner’s slow, disturbed pace. Knowing the moody Russian well, he sighed and wondered if they would get any sleep at all. He was tired because of the stress of the crisis, the time change and the air travel.

“All right, I’m going to regret this but, what gives, Illya?”

Abstractedly glancing over at one of the beds, Kuryakin assured that he was fine and that his partner needed to sleep.

“Right, you are fine and Moscow is holding free elections with no penalties for voting against the party.”

The blond scowled at his partner. Solo knew just how to bait him and he did it well and often. “Should we move to such an absurdity, we would no doubt do it better than the capitalistic event that is held here nearly every fall.” He stopped as his face nearly glazed over. “I was considering the possibilities if this package does not arrive in time.”

“Well now at least you’ve finally tossed me a problem I can handle.”

Solo moved over to the phone and proceeded to dial a sequence of numbers that the Russian was unfamiliar with. Curiosity getting the better of him, he wondered who his partner was waking up.

“Oscar, its Napoleon.” A brief pause ensued where Solo listened chagrined to the response.

“Yes, I know what time it is and I apologize. The next time you wake me up at home I promise not to complain. Trust me, Oscar, I would not have called if it wasn’t of the utmost importance.”

Solo proceeded to tell the man about the package that had hopefully left New York earlier in the evening and of its importance. He paused several times to listen to the responsive comments but in the end got the assistance he had expected and hung up the phone.

“Who did you wake up this time, Napoleon?”

“Actually it’s only about five hours ahead of our time here and that, tovarich, was Oscar Goldman.”

“Goldman?” Illya pondered the name for a moment before he was able to place why it sounded so familiar to him. “The head of the OSI in California?”

“That’s him. He’s an old friend from Korea, Illya, and the best person I know to ensure that your package, once it gets off the plane in California, makes it safely and swiftly here. Now with that taken care of, can we please get some sleep?”

Without waiting for a reply, Solo got into bed and began to adjust his pillows.

“That means the only worry is that it does not do to the mixture what I believe it will.”

“Illya, it will work. It’s got to at this point. Now get some sleep so I can.” With that, Solo turned off the bedside lamp, leaving his partner with no other choice but to go to sleep.

*****

The night still filled the sky when the ringing of a phone sounded loudly. A hand groped for the receiver without turning on a light.

“Napoleon, its Oscar.”

“Oscar, what are you doing up so early?”

“Time difference, Solo, remember? It’s actually early morning here. Your package has arrived, Napoleon.”

“That’s great! When is it leaving for Honolulu?”

“My best agent is on the next flight to Honolulu. Should take off in an hour or so.” Oscar paused. “Napoleon, tell Steve I hope it works.”

The call was terminated before the barely awake spy could reply. But as the words registered in his sleep-deprived mind, he became more alert. “Illya,” he whispered.

Realizing that his partner was still asleep, Napoleon knew that the Russian had been more exhausted the previous evening than he had been willing to admit. His own body felt like it was revolting from the hurried cross country flight as well as the emotional stress upon their arrival. He knew he could happily forget the brief conversation and easily go back to sleep for a few hours. Yet he also knew that he wouldn’t – too many things were on his mind. The shock of the call, the emotional stress and tension that weighed down on him since he first saw McGarrett, noticing the changes in his old friend, seemingly being catapulted back in time and thinking about a memory he would no sooner forget. Glancing over at his partner’s shape, he thought again about what he would do if he and Illya were in the position that McGarrett and Williams were in. Not an event that he wanted to consider.

He thought briefly about waking his partner but realized that Illya needed to sleep until the last possible minute so that he would be alert once they got back to the lab. Instead Napoleon, knowing that he would be surviving another day on strong coffee instead of sleep, sat up in bed. Relying on his memory, he made several hushed phone calls to his Asian connections. He hoped to not have to need one but felt that it might be best to have a back up plan just in case. His contacts though were only able to confirm what the Five-O detectives had discovered the day before. Wo Fat was no longer in Hawaii. The master spy had in fact gone so deeply underground that no one could even pinpoint what country he was currently in. He sighed and replaced the phone on the table. Settling back down for what he hoped to be a few more hours of rest, he was disturbed barely minutes later by another phone call from HQ. Although sorely tempted to remind the caller of the vast time difference, he was ecstatic to learn that the airplane carrying their package in the possession of an agent from the OSI on the last leg of its journey had just left the mainland.

Knowing it would still be a couple of hours before they were finally able to get their hands on it, Solo settled back down in the bed for one last ditch effort at some sleep. The ringing of the phone only moments later caused him to sigh as he mildly wondered why he hadn’t gone into a more staid career. Picking it up, he was disturbed to find Doctor Bergman on the other end.

“Mr. Solo, you indicated last night that you wanted a phone call if…”

“Yeah, we did, doctor. What happened?”

“His vital signs... We…don’t have a lot of time left at all.”

Knowing how Illya felt about revealing too much when he wasn’t sure, Napoleon knew that it no longer mattered. “Doc, you have to keep him going. We…Illya…There’s a plane landing in a couple of hours that might have our answers.”

“Mr. Solo, I told you last night…”

“Just a couple more hours, Doctor.”

Napoleon hung up the phone before he got a reply. He could not identify the emotions he was currently experiencing. Normally they were feelings that were reserved for times when his partner was in mortal danger. To feel them now, over someone that he did not know well -- the only way he could logic it out was to think that it was because of his friendship with McGarrett. He turned over in the bed and watched his partner’s shadow for several seconds. They had had many close calls during their working relationship. But what would he do if it had been something to the affect of what Steve had been going through the last several days. It wasn’t a scenario that Solo wanted to contemplate.

“Illya,” he whispered. “Illya, we need to get up. That last call…”

“I heard part of it, Napoleon. I hope you did not paint any false chances or assure any successes that might not happen.”

“Well, if you heard the conversation then you know what I said, tovarich. So why don’t you take the first trip to the bathroom and I’ll check in on the plane’s status.”

Knowing better than to argue with his partner, Illya got out of bed and walked into the other room. While standing under the warm shower water, he thought about the change he had seen over the last few days in Napoleon’s behavior. As the hours had passed, Solo became increasingly anxious over the lack of developments. It was almost as if he had a stake in the outcome. Well, Illya knew that they all did to a certain extent – although none as much as McGarrett. The Russian well understood Solo’s need to somehow reassure an old friend. However he did not want to build up a confidence that might end up being shattered and it appeared to him that it would not take much to shatter what little control McGarrett had left.

The Russian had just turned off the shower and was reaching for a towel when he heard the ringing of the telephone from inside the room. The walls did not allow for him to eavesdrop on the conversation but he could definitely make out his partner’s irate tone.

For his part, Napoleon had picked up the phone sure that it was the doctor phoning back with very bad news. The rumble of laughter on the other end made his blood turn cold.

“Ahhhhh, Mr. Solo, how good it is to hear your voice again.”

“Wo Fat??!! Where are you?”

“Now Mr. Solo, you know I can not reveal that to you. It would spoil all of my fun. Besides are you not on the Islands strictly to attend a funeral – as a favor to my other old friend, of course!”

The spy sputtered angrily for a few minutes before he realized that he was doing so to a dead line. Enraged he slammed the receiver back on its cradle and turned, kicking the nearby chair all the way to the other side of the room.

Admittedly curious as to what the commotion in the other room was, the Russian quickly finished his morning routine and dressed for the day, leaving the bathroom. It did not take long for Solo to explain the reasoning for his tirade and his suspicion that Wo Fat had ‘spies’ everywhere. Although at any other time he might have thought his friend slightly delusional over such a remark, Illya had to admit that it appeared to be so. Gently he urged Napoleon towards the bathroom reminding him that they could do nothing to assist in changing the intended course of action until Solo was showered and ready. Solo was ready in what appeared to be record time and soon the two spies left for the medical center.

*****

The two men arrived at the hospital quickly thanks to the hotel’s shuttle and a very accommodating driver. Entering the building, they went up to the waiting room and found the Chin Ho Kelly and Ben Kokua already there talking quietly.

“Steve has always wanted complete honesty no matter what.”

“I know. All I’m saying, Chin, is that we wait until we know there is no chance at all. Telling Steve that there’s no hope for Danny is going to be as bad as watching him die. Why do that to him twice?”

The shorter, Oriental detective shook his head as if he did not agree with the other man but said nothing. Solo and Kuryakin hung back for several minutes before they walked up to the other two. Silence reigned amongst them when a tall but huddled figure emerged from the door that led to ICU. Neither Chin nor Ben had seen McGarrett since early the previous day so his tired, haunted expression and body language was a surprise to them both. Solo shook his head, unable to believe again that the man he had originally met and watched become a stern, nearly unapproachable Intelligence Commander could now appear to be so frail and – human.

“Steve?”

He blinked his eyes, either needing to adjust to the brightness of the hallway or surprised at the presence of the four so early. “Doc and a couple of nurses are in with Danno now. They…they won’t let me stay when they’re in there.”

The tall Samoan detective approached the boss. “Looks like you could use some breakfast or at least a cup of coffee.”

McGarrett started to shake his head but stopped. After a moment he headed off with his two detectives.

Napoleon and Illya stared after them. Then the blond turned. “Napoleon, if I didn’t know better, I’d wonder which of the two was poisoned. Steve looks as bad as Williams does.”

Solo had no reply. His partner was right. McGarrett looked worse than he did so many years ago when Solo had stayed by his side until the end had come. That could not happen this time. Needing a diversion from his morbid recollections, he looked at his watch and realized that it was time for them to make their way to the airport.

*****

Illya eagerly reached for the small suitcase as Napoleon shook hands with the man who had just come off the airplane, grateful that Oscar had sent an agent that he was familiar with.

“Todd, thanks for bringing this out here for us.”

“Sure thing, Napoleon. What are you two working on now? Some big international espionage?”

“Just a favor for a friend like Oscar undoubtedly already told you.”

Solo and Kuryakin then hurried from the airport to the Palace. As they burst through the door of the lab, Che Fong looked up from what he had been studying, clearly startled. It took him a moment to recognize the two men he had left in his lab the previous evening.

Not sure what the scientist had done, Illya started forward. “Sir, I neglected to communicate properly that…”

“Never mind,” Che interrupted. He’d been reading the paper that Illya made abstract notes on the previous evening. Although he could see the logic in where the Russian had been heading, he wanted to hear more. “From these notes, it looks like you were on the verge of getting somewhere. What happened?”

The blond raised his arm and laid a small case on the table and gave a succinct explanation of his testing as he quickly snapped the locks of the case open, raised the lid and withdrew a small vial. ““This is the reason why we did not finish last night. It arrived a short time ago from our NY headquarters. My thought is that it is the missing ingredient in the mixture that I hope will counteract the poison Mr. Williams was given.”

Che did not reply but, from the expression on his face, Solo could see that he was carefully thinking through everything that he had been told. Then he took a small step back and to the side, gesturing for Kuryakin to proceed with whatever he had been doing. The room was quiet as Illya worked. Occasionally he nodded or made a hand movement which caused Che to step closer and look at something the Russian pointed at or he would go and get a vial sometimes adding a few drops of liquid and sometimes looking at the vial and then shaking his head. Finally he added several drops from the vial they had just picked up. He glanced over at his partner, who had sunk into a chair near the door.

“I think we are done, Napoleon.”

“You are sure?”

“Da. There is nothing else that can be considered as a possible antidote. No way to further break down the ingredients of what he was given.”

Solo smiled at his friend’s natural inclination towards his native language. He knew that it meant that Illya had been drawn deeply into his work. Rising from his seat, he gestured at the vial. “Will it work?”

Before an answer could be given, the phone on the far wall rang. Che hurried to answer it and listened to the caller without offering a reply. Hanging up, his hand remained on the handset, gripping it for support. Having not been privy to all of the updates, hearing Bergman’s words had shaken the normally stoic scientist. He felt the moisture well up in his eyes and he blinked rapidly. If he had been alone, Che knew he would have broken into tears however he was not alone so he valiantly struggled to get his brimming emotions under control. Not even sure he could speak coherently much less put a sentence together, he turned to the spies.

“That was Doctor Bergman. It appears that our time has run out.” His voice was choked as he fought the emotion that rose inside of him. Wanting to have faith that what the Russian had created would work, he found a lack of it. Was that why he had not assured Doc when he had been on the phone that there was no need to worry and that he would be over in just minutes? He worked at detaching himself from what was going on and was please to hear his voice get more clinical as he went on to explain that Bergman’s message had simply been that he could no longer use medical technology to keep Williams alive. They needed some type of drug or antidote and needed it now.

Kuryakin started to protest, pointing out that tests somehow needed to be run to make sure that the mixture in the bottle would help and not harm.

Napoleon shook his head. “No, Illya, we need to take the vial to the hospital now.”

“Napoleon, we need proof that this is going to work.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Che interrupted. “From the way Bergman was talking, we might not make it on time as it is.”

Realizing the futility of the discussion, Illya grasped the vial tightly and the three men left the lab for the hospital.

*****

“I didn’t want to have to tell Steve that.”

“I know, Ben, but what other choice did we have?”

“How about finding something?”

“We tried,” the stout Oriental detective was trying to be as diplomatic and supportive as possible however his own emotional turmoil was stamped clearly in his expression.

“And it did no good at all,” the Samoan detective’s voice was rising. “You and I just had to walk in there and tell Steve that Wo Fat has gone so far underground that he is now untraceable.”

There was a gruff clearing of the throat from off to the side and the detectives turned to face Doc Bergman. Ben took a half step forward.

“Relax, guys, it hasn’t happened yet.” Bergman looked over at the three law officers. He had called over to the lab as requested but neither Che nor the two spies had arrived yet. Not wanting to put off breaking the news any longer, he cleared his throat in an effort to give himself a minute before speaking. “We’re all here I guess. And none of us has found a way to identify the components of that poison.” He paused again. Uncharacteristically, the gruff old medical examiner struggled to keep himself composed and not experience an emotional outburst in front of these men. But then he also did not want to break the news to them that he was about to utter. “Gentlemen, I don’t want to be the one to say this but we are now down to just a few hours with Danny. There is nothing more that I can do.”

That said and not able to come up with any words of comfort, Bergman turned and walked away from the three detectives, intent on re-entering the ICU. He still had the hardest moment to come. If he had thought it was bad several days ago when he had first told McGarrett that there was little he could do for Danny, he knew that it didn’t compare to this moment. The last thing he wanted was to have to walk in that room and tell the boss that the ordeal was just about over. As he slowly moved to the door, he started thinking of different ways to break the news. None seemed right, seemed to fit. They were all too cliché’. Sighing he knew it would not matter how he told McGarrett and he wondered if he needed to have the hospital alerted that they might have another admission by the end of the day. Doc could not even predict what the reaction would be but was now worried that he would soon have another patient on his hands.

*****

As they poured out of the elevator, Solo, Kuryakin and Fong started down the hall towards the ICU, grinding to a stop as they went by the waiting room and noticed that Chin, Ben and Duke were standing in it. Lukela nodded in the direction of the departing doctor.

“Doc Bergman looks exhausted.”

Ben glanced at the police sergeant. “Steve looks worse. He looked like he was just going to crumble when Chin and I were in there. Do you think Doc told him about Danny before we got here?

“No, Doc wouldn’t tell Steve until the last possible minute. He told us first so that we’d have time to prepare. He knows that it won’t matter with Steve. It’s not something he could prepare for.” Chin wanted to say something else but found that he was growing too emotional to speak.

“This is going to shatter Steve,” Duke whispered.

Che joined the detectives and Napoleon took a loose hold of Illya’s arm, pulling him in Bergman’s direction. When they had distanced themselves a little from the waiting room, Napoleon called after the doctor. Bergman stopped with his fingers touching the doorknob, and then he slowly turned. He stared for several silent moments at the approaching duo. Then he arched an eyebrow and reached out his hand. After a bit of reluctant hesitation, Illya took the capped vial out of his suit jacket and handed it to the doctor.

“You two really know how to cut it close.”

“Occupational hazard,” Solo countered wryly.

Bergman stared at the vial, then opened the door admitting the three of them into the IC unit. As they approached the room that the two detectives were in, the Russian paused.

“Doctor, may I advise you that this mixture has not been…”

“I know. It hasn’t really been tested which means that it will either help Danny or kill him.” Bergman eyed both men for a moment. “Gentlemen, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

They moved quickly down the hall and entered the room that had become all too familiar. Napoleon had to work at not being appalled at the difference in McGarrett. They had left him less than twenty-four hours prior, however he looked like a person who was about to lose every possession in the world. Finally he noticed the vial in Bergman’s hand.

“What is that?”

Napoleon hastened to explain. “Illya picked up something at the warehouse and mixed this together in the lab. Remember, Steve, what I told you last night.”

McGarrett tried to not react at the mention of the warehouse but failed miserably. “It will work.” Although sounding like a statement, the words were in fact posed as a question.

Solo again moved to answer but this time was interrupted by his partner.

“It should…I’d like to think…I hope so, Mr. McGarrett.”

Steve turned and glared at Doc. Bergman ignored the look and continued preparing to fill a syringe with the liquid.

“If he isn’t sure, then maybe you shouldn’t be using it.”

“Steve, it’s a moot point. We don’t have any other options. Danny is not going to live to see tonight’s sunset if we don’t do something.” Depressed and weary to the point of physical pain, Bergman’s tone and words were more waspish than he ever would have used normally.

McGarrett blanched at the words and Doc grimaced. That would not have been the way he wanted to tell Steve. Judging from the storm in the normally cool eyes and the threatening flood of emotion on the face, Bergman knew how much he had just damaged the cop. However he wanted his point made clear. He knew that there wasn’t anything Steve wouldn’t do to save Dan under most normal circumstances. He wanted to be sure that Steve was still operating in that mode now. Getting no further response from McGarrett, Bergman walked over to the other side of the bed and swiftly injected the drug into Dan’s IV line.

“Now we wait,” he whispered.

*****

Several hours passed and the late afternoon sun was now streaming through the window at the nurses’ station. Inside the ICU room, only McGarrett and Bergman remained - sentinels on guard against an advancing nightmare. Although visibly exhausted, McGarrett was methodically pacing the small room. Turning to practically stomp in the other direction he paused and fixed as stern of a glare as he could on Bergman, who sat slouched in a chair on the other side of the room.

“There’s no change at all! He hasn’t gotten any better!”

Bergman moved from the chair over to the bedside, checking on his patient as he worked on tuning out the rantings of the Five-O boss. McGarrett continued to ramble for a minute or so then he paused for a breath.

“He hasn’t gotten any worse, Steve.”

“He’s still not breathing on his own, still unconscious. Has shown no signs of even wanting…What did you say?”

“Look, Steve, I know you were probably expecting a miracle awakening and that hasn’t happened.” Bergman’s hand went up quickly to forestall another tirade. “Look on the bright side, will you? He hasn’t gotten any worse over the last couple of hours. He’s still alive – which he shouldn’t be if the poison was still working.”

Paling at the blunt statement, McGarrett glared and Bergman grimaced, knowing he had hurt him. Then Steve spun on his heel and resumed his methodical pacing. After only a minute, he stopped and turned towards the bed. “So he’s gotten a little better.”

Bergman didn’t answer and Steve resumed his steps at a significantly slower pace. The light shining from the hallway had gotten considerably dimmer and more artificial. Bergman had reclaimed his post in the chair while McGarrett had tired of pacing and leaned against the wall. In truth and quite shocking, he was too afraid to get close to the patient’s side. After days of sitting next to Dan cajoling him to hold on, now, when it all could be over soon, Steve’s deep seeded fear of loss forced him to keep his distance.

He allowed his mind to drift, snatches of memories filling it. Briefly he thought about some of the crazier times they’d experienced – like all of the bets they’d made with each other over the years.

Grinning a little, McGarrett thought about just a week prior when he had lost a bet to Williams and how he had mercilessly teased his friend about how in a short time the money would be spent from Dan’s wallet. Williams had replied in kind, insisting that it was better that he use his winnings from Steve to enjoy life rather than having them fade in his wallet the way McGarrett’s did since he hardly ever spent a dime. It had been one of their lighter moments when the rest of the staff had long ago left for their homes and families. They had many of those moments when it was just the two of them in the office – far more than anybody would guess. The late night sessions of dinner and teasing banter fit in easily between talking about cases and, at times, solving them before the next workday. Williams especially liked the banter and used it as a way to get McGarrett to relax and not take himself quite as seriously as he normally did. It was only one of the traits that the boss so appreciated in his friend.

So deep in thought was he that he never noticed Bergman going to the side of the bed. Did not hear him the first time he spoke.

“Steve.”

McGarrett jumped. “What?”

“He’s stabilized to the point where I can definitely see that the detoriation has stopped.” Bergman glanced over at the cop. “He’s getting better, Steve.”

Incredulous, McGarrett moved away from the wall and closer to the bed. Disappointed that he still could not see a viable change in Danny, he stared at Bergman.

“I know what you’re thinking, Steve, and you are just going to have to trust me on this. He’s getting better.” Focusing his attention away from his patient, he stabbed the cop with an angry stare. “Now I do not intend on having any more Five-O cops as patients since you are all way too stubborn for your own good. So Steve, go home before you collapse.”

Refusing at first, he then reluctantly agreed that Bergman was right. If he did not get some rest soon, his body was going to give out from simple exhaustion. Yet he did not feel secure enough in Dan’s condition to leave the hospital. His fear over what had happened the last couple of times was still overwhelming. Reluctantly he finally left the room and went to the waiting room. Sitting down in one of the sparsely cushioned chairs, Steve leaned his head on his palm and was asleep in seconds.

*****

The sun had completely risen and was bright in the sky when Bergman exited the doctors’ lounge. Like McGarrett, he had also been uncomfortable with the idea of leaving Dan and had gone into the lounge to catch a few hours of sleep. He walked by the waiting room and noticed that someone had dimmed the lights as low as they could go. He assumed that the dark shadow in the corner was McGarrett and was pleased that, although the cop had not gone home, he was in fact getting some rest.

*****

Solo and Kuryakin entered the hospital elevator and punched the button for going up. As the door opened and they walked out, heading down the hall, their whispered conversation consumed their attention.

“All I’m saying is that if something would have happened last night we would have been called.”

“I’m not too sure about that, Napoleon.”

Solo did not reply for the two had just reached the waiting room and he had already sighted McGarrett. He nudged his partner who shifted his glance. Steve was still sitting in the same position he had been in the previous night when he had first entered the room and sat down; slightly slouched down with his jaw leaning forward on his chest. He looked uncomfortable but Solo did not want to wake him, sure that this was the first extended amount of sleep he’d gotten in days.

Bergman walked into ICU and picked up Dan’s chart when he heard the all-too-familiar sound of the ventilator alarm going off. One of the nurses hurried to silence it and he followed. A cursory examination quickly told him that Williams had stabilized more throughout the night and was now fighting the machine as it was breathing for him. He took a moment to marvel at the ability to quickly return to consciousness after serious injury that the detective seemed to share with his boss. He leaned over and spoke to his patient, asking Dan to settle down so that he could remove the tube that he found so offensive. As expected, his words had little success in calming the patient enough to remove the tube and Bergman was hesitant about administering any sedatives. He glanced up at the nurse who was still in the room with him.

“Steve McGarrett is in the waiting room. Get him and let him know that we need him in here.”

As the nurse left the room, Bergman belatedly realized that he had failed to mention McGarrett’s near hair-trigger awake switch and his likely reaction of barely restrained panic when told that he was needed in Williams’ room. He hoped that McGarrett did not react too overtly as he shook his head and tried again to calm his patient. Scant minutes later running footsteps could be heard in the hall and then a tall, dark shadow paused momentarily in the doorway before McGarrett practically leaped from the doorway to the side of the hospital bed. Chancing a glance at the detective, Bergman easily read the panicked worry on his expression and realized that McGarrett’s first thought had been that the worst had happened.

“Steve, it’s not what you’re thinking. He’s fine, actually he’s better than I ever expected him to be so quickly. “

Bergman watched as a little of the panic left the detective’s face and then noticed shadows in the doorway again. His peripheral vision allowed him to identify the forms of Napoleon and Illya and he wondered why he was not surprised to find them there. Then McGarrett claimed his attention, as he finally was able to calm down enough to ask what was wrong.

“Steve, think back. We talked about this a day or so ago – how well Danny handles being on a ventilator.”

“He doesn’t. Hates the things.”

“Exactly! Now he’s stabilized enough to where he’s fighting the machine more and more.”

“So are you going to take him off of it?” McGarrett finally comprehended what the problem was although he still wasn’t completely sure as to his role in the solution. To him it was fairly black and white (like most everything in life). Doc simply needed to take Danno off the machine.

“Yes, however I need him calm to do it otherwise it could injure him.”

The fog finally lifted from Steve’s tired brain and he leaned closer to the bed, placing a hand on Dan’s arm. “Danno. Danno, its Steve. I’m right here with you. You aren’t alone.”

He listened as the vent alarm rang again and was silenced. “Danno, I need you to listen to me.” He squeezed the arm under his palm. “Danno, I need you to settle down. Just breathe and Doc will take the tube away. OK?”

The only response was the ringing of the alarm, which was abruptly and quickly silenced. Exhausted on more planes than imaginable, McGarrett growled underneath his breath. ‘Dammit, Danno, listen to me already.’ Then he took a breath and tried to calm them both again.

“Danno, it’s OK. Calm down and then Doc will take the tube out of your throat.” Reflexively, Steve’s thumb began to move back and forth on Dan’s arm.

Seconds went by and then a full minute and the alarm did not go off again. Bergman shook his head as the ‘McGarrett magic’ had worked yet again. The patient was beginning to settle down.

“That’s it, aikane.”

Steve watched then as eyelids slowly fluttered and then barely opened. It took several minutes of slow blinking but then Dan’s eyes were visible and they darted around the room. His agitation and nervousness were palpable under Steve’s hand as he groggily eyed the shadows by the door, not recognizing them as the two UNCLE agents. Dan’s eyes moved to the side and he stared at Doc Bergman, who had stepped closer to the side of the bed. But before the physician could speak, the gaze moved again, this time to the other side and finally settling on McGarrett’s face. His brow furrowed in apparent worry and then Dan realized that he could not speak because of the tube. Steve stared at his friend, unable to believe that he was actually awake. Interpreting the expression on his friend’s face, Steve quickly assured that everything was fine.

Doc Bergman utilized the patient’s distraction and quickly explained to Dan that he wanted to remove the breathing tube. He glanced up at McGarrett and considered asking the detective to wait outside. But then realized the futility of such a request and the adamant refusal he would get from the cop. Deciding against an obvious argument, he instead explained that he needed Dan to cough so that he could pull out the tube. Danny didn’t look over at the doctor/coroner; instead his eyes remained locked on McGarrett’s face as Steve squeezed his arm in obvious support.

Several minutes and coughs later, Bergman got the tube completely out of Dan’s throat. As weak as a helpless infant, Dan coughed and gagged several more times, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Expecting the reaction, Bergman reached behind the bed and pulled on oxygen tubing, quickly settling a nasal canula on Dan’s face. Williams was not quite able to speak yet and Bergman was grateful for that as he could easily see the complete disdain in Dan’s expression.

“You keep that oxygen right where it’s at, young man,” he gruffly groused although secretly ecstatic that Danny appeared to be recovering.

Not having moved his gaze from Dan’s face, Steve found that he had to blink to block the moisture that filled his eyes. His body and mind were too exhausted to be able to control his emotions the way he usually did. Additionally it wasn’t as if Danno hadn’t seen both the best and the worst he was capable of many times over. McGarrett cleared his throat and the sound brought Dan’s eyes back to his face since Williams had looked away when he started coughing. In a slight attempt at redirecting Steve’s thoughts, Dan rolled his eyes a little over the oxygen. McGarrett squeezed his arm.

“Quit fussing. You will do just what Bergman wants you to do until he decides you can get out of here, got it?” His voice was hoarse and full of emotion, coming out barely louder than a whisper.

Having backed up a little to give Dan a chance to get acclimated to where he was, Bergman couldn’t stop the shocked gasp at McGarrett’s words. He was startled that the boss was actually siding with him over medical care for the team but then knew that part of the reasoning was how close they had come to losing Williams. He covered his mouth with his hand and decided against commenting on the unusual order.

Williams did not answer but his eyes were again fixated on McGarrett as he carefully examined Steve’s face. What he was searching for McGarrett wasn’t sure but he knew that his friend was definitely looking for something.

“Danno, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Slowly licking his dry, cracked lips. Dan’s eyes slowly opened and closed several times before he sighed. “Look like hell, Steve,” Dan’s whispered reply was so soft that three of the four men in the room with him could barely hear it.

“You OK?”

McGarrett grimaced. But he did not, could not, reply. With his hand still on Dan’s arm, he lowered his head until it touched the top of Dan’s head and let it rest there for several seconds. Deep down he knew that Williams would be fine now. Staring into his friend’s open eyes and hearing him speak, albeit in a whisper, did much to calm Steve’s strained nerves and burned out psyche. Now he just wanted to go somewhere and sleep for hours.

Solo grinned slightly at the first whisper from Williams. Dan’s ability to breathe and even speak was their confirmation that Illya’s creation had worked. Privately he also thought that his old friend had finally found a cohort who did not seem to be afraid of pointing out the truth to the boss. He wondered how many NI guys from their day would have been willing to tell Steve how bad he looked and knew the number was zero.

Touching Illya’s arm, he gave a nod of congratulations, of pride in a job well done. As the Russian always did when the stakes high, the chances insurmountable, he came through again. Not for Solo, or UNCLE, or world peace. This time it was for a friend. Warmed at the successful conclusion of the crisis, Solo felt this cause had been more important perhaps than they had tackled in a long time.

With the patient conscious, Illya definitely felt like they were intruding on a scene that they had no right to watch. He flicked his head back a bit and then he and Napoleon quietly slipped out of the doorway and into the hall. Neither spoke until they were in the elevator then Illya breathed a huge sigh of obvious relief.

“It appears that he’s going to recover.”

Solo nodded but offered no reply.

“Napoleon, we need to get back to New York.”

The dark haired agent nodded absently.

“What is it?”

How to explain. This impulsive granting of a request from McGarrett – tearing across the country to help save the life of a cop – it had opened up a new window for Solo. He was still formulating the conclusions. Surprise -- that his old Navy friend was mellowed, softened – that he found a heart once again after all these years. Disturbance – that Steve could be so vulnerable. Unsettled – that he recognized those traits in himself. If the crisis had involved Illya struck down with a deadly poison, he felt his actions would have mirrored McGarrett’s. This experience was like looking into a cracked, distorted mirror of what could be in the future – his future. And that scared him.

As they exited the elevator and headed for the bright sunshine outside, Napoleon stopped in the lobby. Kuryakin quietly stood beside him in silence.

“Your usual talent came through again, Illya. Good job,” he finally praised in a subdued tone.

“It was my pleasure to help. It seemed – important.”

Solo looked into his eyes for a moment. Yes, they understood what had happened here. What it meant to lose control of a situation and fear that the other half of their life, their self, would be lost forever.

Then the moment of somber introspection was gone. The blue eyes cleared and sparked with a subtle humor the Russian rarely allowed to surface. “As I said, we need to return to New York. We have been absent far too long. This is not how I anticipated using my personal vacation time. Don’t make me regret sacrificing it as a favor to you.”

“Sacrifice! Are you kidding. We are in paradise, my friend,” Solo countered dramatically, and wondered what their chances were of convincing Waverly to extend their leave for a few additional days. “So that we can properly enjoy the islands, of course,” he finished as he walked out of the front door of the hospital immediately turning his head to gawk at a dark and exotically beautiful Polynesian nurse who was entering the building.

Ahead of his partner, Kuryakin shook his head as he hailed a taxi. Opening the door, he paused before getting in and turned to Solo. He glowered and acted every bit the part of the second in command of field operations that he was. “Napoleon, let’s go.” He then entered the vehicle without waiting for a reply and sat forward to instruct the driver as to where they needed to go.

Resigned to the idea of going back to the winter drudgery of his home state, Napoleon slid into the cab and leaned back against the seat. As the driver pulled away from the hospital entrance and into traffic, he cast a sidelong glance at his partner.

“You really know how to spoil the fun, tovarich.”

*****

Several days later, McGarrett walked into the Five-O offices at the Palace. He paused in the outer area and looked around at the peaceful emptiness. Things would not be completely settled for him until his second in command again occupied the office closest to his own. Yet he knew that he was very close to that outcome. He had to grin a little as he shook his head. Danno had rebounded faster than expected and was already bugging Bergman about discharging him. The cantankerous coroner had dug his heals in this time and was refusing to give in. Williams had spent most of the time Steve had been there trying to coerce the Five-O chief into aiding his cause.

McGarrett sighed as he turned and entered his own private sanctuary and immediately opened the lanai door. Leaning on the rail in the warm, late morning sun he thought back to why he had not jumped at the chance to spring his recovering friend. This time it had been too close. At least that was what he had told Danno. It was fairly close to the truth. This time McGarrett had been truly afraid that he was going to lose his friend. He hadn’t felt like that in years; had once vowed that he would never feel like that again. His body jerked as he pulled his mind away from the memories of the past – both the recent past and the remote past. They were inextricably intertwined now.

Slowly he headed back into the office to speak to the one person who had been around for both instances. He picked up his phone and hit the button for his private line, dialing quickly.

Across the mainland, Napoleon Solo sat by himself in his office at UNCLE headquarters. His partner had been sent on a one person mission soon after their return and the Chief Enforcement Agent was doing what he normally excelled at avoiding – paperwork. The ringing of his phone offered a welcome respite and he jumped on the instrument.

“Napoleon, its Steve.”

“Steve, what’s wrong? Has…?”

Back in Hawaii, McGarrett winced as he realized what Solo thought to be the reason for the call. Quickly he assured him that Danny was recovering – probably quicker than anyone had expected.

“And we’ve got you and Illya to thank for that, my friend.”

After a few moments of idleness, Solo inquired as to the reason behind the call and was surprised when McGarrett admitted that he’d been thinking about the last several days. He sighed, knowing that no matter how much he did not want to, he needed to dive in to the subject that had bugged him since immediately after his arrival in Honolulu.

“Steve, I noticed a few things this time.”

“What kind of things?”

“Changes. In you mostly. Nothing bad, of course. Just not something I expected to see again. Not after that time with Marty.”

“Yeah I was thinking about that as well.”

When McGarrett did not specify what parts he had been thinking about, Napoleon understood that that acknowledgment was all he would get. He wanted to discuss the changes he had seen but knew that he had to respect McGarrett’s privacy.

“Steve, I’m happy that you finally found someone that you are comfortable enough with to allow them to see the ‘real you’. Don’t go hiding yourself away now.”

Startled by the bluntness of the message, McGarrett did not make a noise in reply. Then he sighed. There was no way his second in command would stand by and simply watch him hide behind his walls – even if they were for self-preservation. That was one of the things that had drawn him to Danno in the first place. No matter how gregarious and outgoing the detective came across, McGarrett knew that deep down they were very much alike, practically cut from the same cloth.

“You know, Napoleon, Danno reminds me…”

“Yeah, I figured as much, Steve.” Napoleon cut him off before he could complete the thought. He really did not want to think about that time of their lives. It was the only other time he remembered ever seeing McGarrett as unhinged as he had nearly become this past week. Although he had the distinct impression from the reactions of the other detectives and those who appeared close to the team that what he thought to be odd reactions from McGarrett were really quite normal when it came to something happening to Williams.

“Steve, have you ever told Danny?”

“No, never. What about you and Illya?”

“No. You need to tell Danny.”

“Maybe one day.”

“Soon, my friend. I have a feeling that he would understand without judging.”

McGarrett nodded his head, knowing without a doubt that judgment from his closest friend was the last thing he ever had to worry about facing. “I’ll tell him. Mahalo, Napoleon, and aloha.”

“Goodbye, Steve.”

*****

McGarrett sat at his desk after hanging up the phone. His last comment to the spy weighed heavily on his mind. He did need to tell Danno – just not now. It was all too fresh –dredged up by the poison and Wo Fat. Yet hadn’t Danno already guessed that something was wrong or different when he had first regained consciousness? He’d brought up the expression that he had seen on McGarrett’s face since but Steve had not indicated a willingness to talk about it. His friend was not as pushy as the spy believed. He knew when to give the boss space and when to pry. Realizing that there would really never be a ‘good’ time to talk, he picked up his phone again and dialed a different number. He smiled when it was answered after only a couple of rings.

“Danno, its me.”

“Steve, you just left here. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, aikane, just seeing how you are doing.”

Williams snorted in reply. “I want out of here. I can’t make sure you haven’t taken up residence at the office if I’m stuck in this bed.”

Grinning at the typical impudence, Steve leaned further back into his chair, relaxing a little. With the clear impatience in Williams’ voice, he had no doubt that it wouldn’t be long before they were racing across the island with the top down on the Mustang. “Soon, my friend. “ He smirked a little before growing serious. Solo was probably right. Williams deserved nothing but the complete truth from him and he had no doubt that the story of his behavior had worked it way back to his officer already. He should probably tell him in person but somehow this seemed easier. Steve could reveal so much but still feel as if he had his protective walls around him. “Danno,” he paused unsure if he really wanted to delve into the details. Yet after what they had been through, his friend deserved nothing less than the full story. He inhaled. “How much have I told you about Korea?”

Pau