THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT
PART TWO
GHOST OF THE DRAGON
by
McGarrett leaned against the side of his Mercury
and watched the C-17 lift off the hot runway and into the clear blue sky over
Crossing the tarmac, Williams and a local
pilot chatted while they slowly approached. Wavy heat-lines shimmered across
the asphalt and lent a surreal quality to their figures. McGarrett shifted his
gaze to the man standing next to him. The tall, lean State Department
'representative' (spy, Steve mentally filled in), Webb, was the reason for
Dan's reluctance to return to the Five-0 sedan. Webb's angled, sharp features
pushed his countenance from humorless to severe.
"Thanks for the assist,
McGarrett," the spy tossed out as he lit a cigarette. "Didn't think
it would go so smoothly."
Resentment between them reflected like the
summer sun on metal. McGarrett did not forget nor forgive the incident the year
before when Williams' kidnapper and torturer, Jin Wu, won freedom from Webb.
When State asked for cooperation on this case, McGarrett initially refused,
then received orders from the governor to comply with the Federal authorities.
Steve had given Williams leave to not be involved, but Danno had gone along
anyway. Probably to show Webb he had fully recovered from the horrendous
brainwashing experience. Avoiding Webb during most of the last few days, the
two Five-0 detectives would be happy to see the last of the spook.
"I'm staying over to tie up loose ends,
McGarrett. Where can I find some action in this rustic tourist trap?"
"I'm not a tour guide," McGarrett
countered sharply. "Just keep your nose clean, Webb."
Webb shot a brief wave to the head of
Five-0. "Will do, boss man. I don't like dealing with you rurals anymore than you like me. So bon voyage and aloha to
you, McGarrett." He opened his car door. "Oh, tell your boy he can
stop avoiding me and jumping at ghosts. Jin Wu didn't come back to see him --
the romance is off, I guess." He gave a sneering laugh, then slipped into
the government sedan and drove away.
McGarrett snapped his fingers, agitated at
the prickling, danger-edge trepidation gripping him. The subconscious alert was
confusing to him since the mission had been completed without a hitch. Perhaps
the reaction stemmed from the proximity to Webb. Steve was as relieved to be
rid of the operative as he was to be rid of the secret material. He preferred
the black and white of the criminal classes to the musty intrigue of espionage.
Almost physically shaking himself to clear
away the irritation, McGarrett turned to greet his approaching colleague.
"Danno, let's call it a day," he announced as his friend came up to
the car.
"Gladly," Williams sighed. He
crossed to the passenger side of the sedan. "I'm happy that's over."
McGarrett smiled at his own thoughts
verbalized by Williams. About many things, the two detectives thought along
parallel lines. About government interference on their rock, they thought
exactly alike.
"So, you think Webb is right? Have we
seen the last of Jin Wu?" his voice nervous. Rarely speaking of the
Chinese spy, Dan still, obviously, feared a return of the ruthless dragon-lady.
"Webb thinks she's a ghost, Danno. I
hope she'll only haunt you in your dreams."
"As long as my nightmares don't turn
real again," Williams agreed as they pulled away.
McGarrett forced himself out of the doom and
gloom aura surrounding them. Not about to allow Webb or Jin Wu to ruin the rest
of the day, he changed the subject.
"Well, we're not going to worry about
that tonight. Did you get those Rainbow tickets?"
"First base line," Williams
confirmed with a smile. Speculatively he glanced at his boss. "You sure a
British lady is going to be interested in a ball game?"
With a laugh, Steve assured, "No. No
more than I was interested in that soccer match she talked me into last
week."
Amused, Dan shook his head. "Poor
Agnes, she likes to live dangerously, doesn't she?"
"You mean coming to a ball game?"
"No, dating you."
"Very funny, Officer Williams. Now
watch yourself or I'll stick you with the check."
"Hot dogs and beer for four? I think
even my budget can handle that."
*****
As Dan Williams sipped cold beer straight
from the bottle, he loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt.
Then he slipped off his shoes and socks and leaned back in the lanai chair,
stretching sore, tired feet on the top of the railing. Williams was grateful
the day's assignment was pau. He didn't trust Webb. A residual reaction
to Webb's participation in releasing Jin Wu under diplomatic immunity.
Although Steve never mentioned his specific
suspicions, he seemed to suspect Webb had a separate deal going with Jin Wu.
Those spy types always had something up their sleeves. Steve should know, being
a Naval Intelligence veteran, plus from their numerous run-ins with operatives
here on the islands. Perhaps he was picking up Steve's bad vibes over the State
agent. McGarrett really disliked Webb. Anyway, government spook stuff made
Williams nervous and if he never dealt with another spy-vs-spy
plot for the rest of his life, he would be happy.
Haunting spectres warred for attention and
involuntarily he shivered, then thrust aside the unpleasant thoughts of his
last brush with the spook-dragon-lady. He forced himself to focus on nothing
more threatening than the tropical-orange sunset and rejuvenating surf. He
would head down to the beach club as soon as he finished his beer. Plenty of
time for a swim before he picked up Mei Lu for the
ball game.
The phone rang and Williams did not move. It
was on the third ring when he decided there was no use in ignoring the summons.
Wearily he walked into the living room and picked up the phone.
"Hello."
"Danno, we have a break on that spy
angle. We're going to meet Webb at
"Okay," Williams sighed and tossed
the phone back onto the cradle. No wonder he had no social life. Every other
date was canceled because of some crisis. Pretty soon he'd run out of women on
the island who would date him. He toyed with the idea of surprising Steve one
time and refusing to respond an emergency to keep his date.
"Yeah, right," he griped to
himself. "But I'd sure rather spend the evening with Mei
Lu than Webb."
He was just finishing the bow in his
shoelace when there was a rap at the door. The impatient McGarrett was earlier
than Dan expected. "Steve must be in a real hurry," he muttered.
Jacket in hand, he crossed the room and opened the door. He gasped in shock.
"Hello, Mr. Williams," was the
silkily evil greeting of Jin Wu.
Dan's mind seized in a paralyzing grip of
horror, unable to move or think for several frozen seconds. By the time he
instinctively reached for his revolver, it was too late.
Jin Wu barked out harsh, abrupt sentences in
Chinese. Three times she repeated a phrase his mind automatically translated to
mean 'scratched by the talons of the dragon,' although Williams did not
speak or understand Chinese.
"Stop!" he demanded. He clutched
at his head as torturous, overwhelming waves of black pain slammed into his senses.
Feeling his entire being slip into a Stygian pit of terror, he thought he
screamed from the mind-agony; from the horror of what he knew was to come.
*****
Tropical evening swept quickly across
summer-time
"Danno?" He stepped in, hovering
near the door for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the close, interior
dimness. "Danno?"
Williams' blue sport coat lay crumpled on
the floor. McGarrett carefully picked it up, briefly examined it, then placed
it on the sofa.
"Danno!"
The Japanese screen to the bedroom was open
and McGarrett slowly walked in that direction. His skin crawled with
apprehension yet he could not justify the sense of danger which pervaded his
feelings in this familiar territory. The inside of the bedroom was mostly in
shadow. A dark form detached itself from the black backdrop of an oriental
divider. The figure slowly stepped into a patch of light. He felt a moment of
stunned, frozen incredulity. The detective was caught in total surprise.
Jin Wu smiled at him. "Hello, Mr.
McGarrett. I promised we would meet again."
The voice slimily, icy with contempt, just
as McGarrett remembered it. Each word sent a ripple of chills along his spine
as she targeted him with those evil, cunning, dark eyes. She uttered a few
subdued words of Chinese. Then Dan Williams, his .38 Special in hand and aimed
at McGarrett, stepped from around the screen.
"Danno," he sighed; in pity, in
anguish.
McGarrett focused entirely on Williams. It
was a distorted repeat of the agonized moments they had shared at the airport
the year before. Although McGarrett was acutely aware of the presence of the
weapon pointed at him, his attention was magnetized to his friend's face.
Williams stood stiffly, his body shaking.
His face was pale; sweat glistened his skin, his expression reflecting the inner
terrors raking his soul.
"Observe my legacy!" she laughed.
"I own his soul, McGarrett. I have since our wonderful night together last
year." She curled a piece of Williams' hair in her fingertips, toying with
her prey. Waxenly sculptured, suspended in time, Dan
trembled in pain or fear or a dreadful combination of both. "He is mine to
command."
"Danno!"
Williams screamed. With a shaking hand he
clutched his left temple, scratching the skin, as if to ward off demons inside.
"No!"
"Danno!"
Jin Wu stepped closer to McGarrett. She
stared at him with sharp dagger-eyes of hatred. A strangling terror, lurking at
the edges of his consciousness, now flooded to the forefront of his mind.
"You wished we would meet again,"
she hissed with contempt. "I grant your wish. You destroyed my
project," she spat at him. "Again. I cannot return home a failure --
not like my father. Not because of you." She moved closer, slowly
circling; a cobra assessing her victim. "Your destruction will have to be
my victory. Last year I tried to kill you to prove my superiority to my
father." She stared at Williams with pure hatred. "I did not count on
the weakness of the instrument of my plan."
'Thank God Danno's weakness was really
his greatest strength.' McGarrett
thought. The power of their friendship had saved his life once -- perhaps it
would again today. He shuddered at the memory of how close he had come to
death, but even closer to losing Danno. Jin Wu did not know how effective her
plan had been.
"My father has lost face because of you,
McGarrett. I will not suffer the same fate."
That answered questions about his old
nemesis. The old spy was not only alive, but without that fantastic powerbase
he once commanded. Jin Wu's operation from last year reeked of big money from
somewhere. Part of his curious mind wondered if there were more international
backers, or if Wo Fat had been funded by the family bank account. None of that
really mattered now. All that McGarrett cared about was Williams.
She threw a contemptuous glance at Dan, then
glared back at McGarrett. "Now I will finish the job."
Without looking at her, he sought an answer
to the senseless agony. "Then why not just kill me? Why brainwash Dan
Williams?"
Genuinely surprised, she ceased her
tormenting for a moment and observed him with dispassionate incredulity.
"Such ego. You and your little world here are pathetic, McGarrett. Beneath
my attention. Until your foolish detective stumbled into my lair at the import
company last year. The courier was the target, never you. When I discovered
this pawn came as your minion," she scratched a nail along Williams'
cheek, leaving a thin trail of blood on the skin. Oblivious to the slice, the
quivering detective kept his revolver trained on McGarrett. Jin Wu's sneering
contempt cackled in a brittle laugh. "I couldn't resist having my little
fun with him. It wasn't easy bending his will, commanding my bidding over his
conscience. It took all night." She viciously slit a nail across Dan's jawline. Facial muscles twitched, blood dripped onto his
white shirt, but the pain never registered in his brain. Overlaid by Jin Wu's
domination, Dan's will was no longer his own. "My talons are sharp. They
stab straight to his heart. He surrendered his soul to me. It is mine now to
command as I wish. To use against you, McGarrett. Friend killing friend. My
father was never this gifted."
Few times in his life did Steve McGarrett
intimately understand the throbbing passion of desperation. Pounding into his
heart now came the tangible fear of seeing Danno destroyed before his eyes.
Still completely convinced Dan would never kill him, Steve feared Jin Wu's
reaction when he did not die at his friend's hand. The crazed she-monster
would, in all likelihood, turn on Williams with all her anger and vengeance.
Willing to do anything to save his friend, he begged for mercy.
"Let him go. You don't need to destroy
him. If I'm the one you want then take me!"
"Killing you is simply the end result.
It's my mastery of manipulation and control that is the challenge. My
professional reputation is at stake."
"Dan Williams has nothing to do with
your father."
"I must prove myself better than my
father. You are his greatest nemesis, McGarrett, so I must be the one to
destroy you."
"Then your fight is with me, not
him."
She laughed, a crackling, mirthless scrape
on his already taut nerves. "McGarrett, are you blind? Williams is the
tool." He eyes narrowed as she stared at him. "As leverage he is most
valuable -- "
"Then don't destroy him."
Shaking her head, she pouted, "There is
no profit in that, McGarrett. He must kill you and then kill himself --"
"No," Steve groaned involuntarily.
"The fate of Nine Dragons depends upon
it."
"You'll need a hostage to get off this
rock, Jin Wu. Webb knows you're here." The information registered as a
flicker of surprise on her otherwise mask-like expression. He pressed his
advantage. "He'll be here anytime, Jin Wu. Leave Williams. I'll get you
safe passage off the island."
A cold smile smirked, then died, on her
porcelain face. "If I learned nothing else from my father, I learned the
value of escape, McGarrett. I do not need you for anything but a dramatic
death."
McGarrett ignored the ranting, no use
wasting his time. As calmly as he could, he talked to Dan, urging him to lay down
the weapon. This time the deadly confrontation was different and much more
difficult than last year: They were alone now, no ready assistance. Jin Wu
literally cornered, backed to the wall, needed this sensational coup to survive
politically.
Dan Williams, now a different person,
changed and altered since last year. He was not the glaze-eyed robot under her
thumb this time. Now he was an agonized spirit at war with the voices inside
his mind. These violent, inner commands were loud and persistent. They had been
deeply hidden for most of a year and now might be strong enough to overcome any
other voices, no matter how committed Dan was to old loyalties.
"Danno, give me the gun."
Williams' body trembled anew under the
conflicting commands assaulting his conscience. Tears streamed down his face
and he seemed oblivious to the physical reactions. He continued to stare at
McGarrett with tortured eyes.
The chill which had never left Steve snaked
along the base of his neck like a living entity of terror. Jin Wu was gloating
over something yet to happen. Steve thought back to the anarchy she had caused
last year in the airport. He could not afford to underestimate her. A tight
knot in his stomach told him he may already be too late.
McGarrett's instinctive warnings of
subliminal, latent programming had been painfully correct. She had left an
insidious, deadly dragon inside his friend's mind. Her words were catalysts to
release the poisons. Danno was fighting the commands -- pressure points in his
brain. If he threw them off would they destroy him? Right now the internal
agonies were tearing him apart.
"Stop it, damn you!" Steve
demanded of Jin Wu, knowing it would do no good, but needing to do something to
fight what he could not control. He shouted to Williams, his restraint
slipping. Dan was crying out from the mental agony, his knees buckling from the
pain. Very slowly, very carefully, McGarrett took several paces toward his
friend. "Don't give in, Danno. Fight her!"
Jin Wu called out a Chinese phrase. Dan
released a soul-chilling cry. The wild, pain-filled look on his face was
frightening. Suddenly the revolver kicked in his hand and three slugs sang past
McGarrett's arm.
"Put the gun down, Danno,"
McGarrett ordered, his voice even and firm. There was no fear that Williams
would kill him. Danno could have shot him just then, but their friendship was
still the shield which insulated Williams and protected McGarrett. Jin Wu's
programming could not penetrate their bond. "You don't want to shoot me. I
know you don't," McGarrett told his friend confidently, calmly. Control
regained, he spoke softly, as if only Danno and he were in the room. "You
know you won't hurt me, Danno. Put the gun down." His voice was intimate
now, gentle, slow and reassuring. He repeated his instructions, trying to keep
calm and easy as he stepped ever closer to Williams. Their bond had saved their
lives countless times before. Steve needed that link to be stronger than ever
now.
With each passing second Dan was breaking
apart at the seams. His face glistened with mingled tears and sweat, his
forehead pinched with suffering, an agony Steve had only glimpsed briefly the
year before. The gun hand shook unsteadily. With agonizing effort Williams
raised the revolver to a point just above McGarrett's shoulder. Another shot
was released. Steve didn't flinch. Sadly, he recognized he was in no danger --
the Five-0 marksman's aim was way off tonight.
Jin Wu shouted more staccato commands,
Williams screamed. "No," he sobbed. His eyes were filled with terror
as he locked gazes with McGarrett. The pistol, cradled in both hands, pointed
dead center at Steve's chest. "No . . . ." With a trembling hand
Williams suddenly snapped the revolver up to touch his head, then pulled the
trigger!
Shocked, repulsed, horrified, McGarrett
instinctively jumped back. Williams' body folded and on pure instinct Steve
lunged to catch him, cushioning his fall to the floor. McGarrett's body
drained, weak, his nerveless limbs barely retaining hold of his friend cradled
in his arms. The pall of terror so suffocating he felt nothing but cold down to
the marrow of his bones. Frozen fingers of terror clutched his chest, leaving
him gasping for breath. Steve could not even mentally voice the agonized scream
in his mind.
Jin Wu became a smudge of color and motion
as she moved toward the door. Eyes blurred with tears and shock Steve grabbed
for the bloody revolver dropped from Williams' hand. Seizing it he
instinctively aimed, firing several shots. Jin Wu's body dropped and remained
still. The gun then tumbled from his limp hand. Gulping in deep breaths he
wrapped his arms around Dan's bleeding head.
"Danno -- no --" he finally
sobbed. "Danno . . . . ."
McGarrett's brain sorted through emergency,
life-saving procedures in slow motion. Knowing all the steps necessary to
render aid, he remained rooted in place. Finally the shock dissipated enough
for more alarms to surface. Something had to be done. He had to be sure if Dan
still lived. A trembling hand hovered above Williams' shoulder -- the right side
of his face still buried against Steve's chest, obscuring the horrific wound.
With leaden thoughts McGarrett felt the wetness soaking his chest; saw the
blood pooled on the floor, the red spray covering Danno's face, the dotted-red
stain on Williams' white shirt. McGarrett's own hands and clothes were covered
in blood, the crimson smeared in wild patterns.
Time no longer existed. Everything which had
happened with lightning speed before was now null. Now there was a reluctance
to advance into the future at all. Life had dragged down to slow motion.
Woodenly, expecting the worst, McGarrett
placed a blood-dripping hand on Danno's neck. It was an automatic gesture.
Several moments passed before McGarrett's mind registered that he felt a pulse
on the cool skin. Startled into action, he pushed Williams' limp body away to
back his wild hopes with certain examination.
The head wound was a deep gash along the
right side of the skull, cutting across the temple to just above the ear -- more
of a furrow than a straight hole. There was too much blood flow to know how
serious the injury was. Steve felt a glimmer of hope -- perhaps the wound would
not be fatal. Maybe Williams' palsied nerves had saved him from a lethal aim.
Steve gently laid the injured man down on the floor then removed his jacket to
press against the wound. Danno's skin was dangerously chalky and growing colder
every minute.
McGarrett had been through this agony before
and how well he remembered the torture of believing, even briefly, that his
friend had died. Fear gripped him into near immobility of thought and movement.
He was in his own form of shock. He could not think beyond the moment; past or
future. Williams was alive now. That was all that mattered. The repercussions
of the shooting, the self-inflicted bullet, were peripheral randoms
in the limbo of time. His only concern, his only present, was that Danno
remained alive.
Steve was at the phone and demanding an
ambulance and back up before he was consciously aware of the actions. Without
waiting for confirmation he dropped the phone and returned to Williams,
pressing the red soaked material to the wound.
The warm blood now flowed through the suit
jacket and onto Steve's hands. His insular cushion of shock still numbed his
reactions while terror gripped his senses. All he could think of was loosing
Danno. He pulled his friend's head against him to help stay the bleeding.
Completely weary and spent from the
emotional ordeal McGarrett leaned his cheek down on his friend's head and
closed his eyes. He told himself the whole trauma was catching up to him. It
was the mental excuse he used to justify the tears burning his eyes. Then he
fervently prayed. He pleaded for his friend's life to be spared. So intent was
his meditation he did not hear anything of the commotion around him. He was
startled when Duke shook him, loosening his hold on Williams, then pulled him
to his feet.
"I'm staying with Danno."
He tried to struggle from Lukela's grasp, but the Hawaiian officer would not release
McGarrett. The apartment was now filled with light and activity. Several
patrolmen and HPD officers in plainclothes were there. Two ambulance attendants
were kneeling next to Williams' prone body. Duke was talking but McGarrett
couldn't hear or understand the words. There was no sign of Jin Wu.
"Let them help him, Steve," Duke
said urgently.
Without hearing any of the buzzing
conversation, McGarrett felt isolated in an almost out of body cocoon.
Everything around him had a kind of ethereal quality. Dazed, he wondered where
Lukela had come from. Duke explained he had heard a shooting report issued for
this address. Naturally he had responded, one of the first to arrive after the
investigating patrolmen.
"Jin Wu," McGarrett muttered, his
eyes still on Williams. "Put out an APB on Jin Wu. She should be here. I
shot her." Blood smeared a patch of floor by the door. It had not been a
dream -- an illusion -- he HAD shot the woman. "Went down there. She did
this."
Lukela pleaded for McGarrett to slow down.
"Jin Wu shot Danny?" He seemed skeptical.
McGarrett's voice was flat as he watched the
attendants move Williams onto a stretcher. "We ruined her operation
--" He waved away the explanation. "Nevermind.
Just get Webb on it."
'I should have let you kill her last
year, Danno,' he bleakly thought. 'I
would have killed her myself if I had known.'
It would have saved them from this current
agony. Strange, how in a crisis like this thoughts and desires; values and
reason blurred so easily. He would gladly throw justice and right and good out
the window now if it could spare them from any more anguish. He would have done
anything. If only he could buy back the life of Dan Williams.
*****
As McGarrett paced the uninspired hospital
corridor his stunned mind rewound to that terrifying moment when Williams put
the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. McGarrett's system was still
shocked and overloaded from the horrific tragedy. It would probably be a long
time before he emerged from the haze of distortion warping his reality. To see
his closest friend place the revolver . . . he quashed the remembrance. It was
more than anyone -- any two people -- should have to go through in their
lifetimes. More than he could endure; the torture and brainwashing last year,
now this. McGarrett felt too old for this cloak and dagger edge to his life,
too worn out to conceive of losing Danno.
These events left him terrified. The
importance of his friend's life never in question, this tragedy focused his
priorities as never before. Steve thought he understood that after last year;
after almost losing Dan, and tried to fill this year with meaning. Now his
attempts seemed woefully inadequate and much too late. Hoping and praying
lightning would strike twice, he prayed Dan be spared and returned to him
again. It was almost too much to ask, but he fervently asked for the miracle
despite the odds.
Studying his blood-stained hands trembling
in the grip of fear, he hissed out a shuddered sigh to release pent-up tension.
Pacing back toward the doors at the end of the corridor he came to rest against
a wall. A hospital ranked at the top of depressing locations in his opinion.
Sterile, plain walls were no comfort to those condemned to wait here. Too many
times lives close to him had been lost and the bad news brought to him in these
white, cold halls. This time he needed the news to be good.
A young, lean Hawaiian doctor with a short,
dark beard emerged at a brisk pace from the OR. The body language reassured
McGarrett while the blood-splattered surgical greens did not.
"The bullet angled along the side of
the skull," Doctor Karman reported after
politely introducing himself. "There's a hairline fracture, but no
internal injury to the brain, no bone fragments to worry about. Loss of blood
and shock are what we're dealing with now."
Steve allowed himself a sigh of relief.
"He'll be all right." It was a hope, not a question.
The physician shifted uncomfortably,
squirming under the intensity of McGarrett's stare. "Should be," he
said almost guardedly. "His system is weak, of course, but he's responding
as if . . . . " his voice trailed away and he shook his head. "Not as
robustly as I expected for a man in his athletic condition."
Alerted, Steve picked up on the slip.
"What? What were you going to say?"
"Well, it's a little fanciful, but I've
seen it before in suicide attempts. If he doesn't want to wake up, has no will
to live --"
McGarrett was incensed at the implied
slight. "He did not attempt suicide! And if you think he doesn't want to
live -- "
"I don't --"
"You're wrong, doctor!" McGarrett
shouted.
Calmly, Karman
corrected, "Physically, he's strong and fit. Emotionally -- well, that's
not my department. The psychiatrists are the ones to suture those wounds.
Obviously we're dealing with more than just physical injury here," Karman speculated vaguely enough not to be trounced by the
agitated cop. "It could be some time before he regains
consciousness."
"I promise you, doctor, there is
nothing obvious about this incident. Nothing!"
The comment brought a flood of unpleasant
ramifications to McGarrett's mind for the first time. There was no fooling a
doctor, no way to lie about a self-inflicted gunshot wound; the powder burns on
the head and hand, the angle of the bullet. McGarrett wondered at his sudden,
uncharacteristic willingness to cover-up the shooting. An instinctive need to
protect Williams from the aftermath of this incredible night. Deceit was not
normally in Steve's nature. He was surprised to find how easy the pattern of lies
came to mind. There was no chance of pushing this under the rug as they had
done with the airport incident, as they had managed with his own brainwashing
in
McGarrett's attention caught when the
unconscious Williams wheeled out of OR into recovery. Bandages obscured most of
Williams' blanched face. For awhile Steve stayed at the window of the unit and
watched the deceptively reassuring monitors gauging his friend's vital signs.
It seemed as if Danno was simply sleeping -- as if he would awaken at any
moment . . . .
McGarrett looked at his own reflection in
the glass, startled at the fatigue clearly scored into his face by anxiety and
fear. He felt the weariness of every line and shadow, every year, every crisis,
every near death. This near miss, however, had tallied the deepest wound.
Another reflection appeared and McGarrett
turned toward Duke.
"Danny okay?"
McGarrett slowly shrugged shoulders, which
seemed infinitely burdened. "That's what the doctor says." No other
details were necessary at this time.
For several minutes Lukela sadly stared into
the room. Then to McGarrett asked, "What about you?"
That question was more difficult to answer
and McGarrett intended to avoid a response even to himself. This was not the
time to focus on his emotions because he did not know his status. He was still
in shock, still too stunned by it all to know what to think or feel beyond the
anguish.
To Lukela, he generalized. "Okay."
After a moment he asked, "Did you take care of everything?"
"Yeah," was the distasteful
response.
"Jin Wu?"
"Don't know. Webb knew already and
froze us out."
The unhappy news was enough to snap
McGarrett out of his shock. He turned to Lukela. "How did he find out? He
had no authority to usurp Five-0 jurisdiction."
Lukela was clearly uncomfortable as the
bearer of this bad news. "The order to cooperate with Webb came right from
the governor, Steve." He hastened on before McGarrett could argue more. "Somehow
the press got wind of things, too. There are reporters staked out in the lobby
downstairs. Boyd and Vernor made it as far as this
floor before Nephi Hilton escorted them outside."
Steve grimaced. "Sharks following the
trail of blood."
"Yeah," Duke agreed with disgust.
"I thought you'd want to clean up," he said and handed his boss an
aloha shirt and a windbreaker. "I left my car parked at the kitchen
entrance so you could make a quiet getaway."
McGarrett patted his friend on the shoulder.
"Mahalo. But I want to stay here for awhile."
"I talked to the governor just before I
left the office, Steve. He wants you to go see him right away."
McGarrett frowned. Official interference --
a complication he had not considered. Suddenly, it seemed there were a lot of
things for which he did not have control. It was as if he could not get any
sure footing underneath him. A small indication of how unstable his world was
without the balance of Williams in his life.
He stared back into the ICU room desiring
nothing more than to keep this post until Williams regained consciousness. He
did not want to talk to Jameson yet. "I'll get in touch with him
later," Steve commented vaguely.
Lukela shifted uncomfortably. "He was
insistent, Steve."
With a sigh McGarrett looked at his watch.
It was almost
*****
When McGarrett reached the door of the
governor's office, he felt suddenly self-conscious. Although he made a fast stop
at the hospital to wash up, he had not changed more than his shirt. His shoes
and pants were still stained with blood. Never in his entire tenure as Five-0
chief had he been this absent-minded. Hoping he would do better when facing his
superior he opened the door.
As soon as he swept into the room he felt
the foreboding of trouble on the horizon and anger at one of the men already
there. Governor Jameson and John Manicote he had
expected. Webb was an intruder and McGarrett felt like strangling the spy.
"Steve," Jameson greeted warmly
and rose to shake hands. McGarrett avoided the greeting and confronted Webb.
"Why didn't you warn us Jin Wu was
here!"
"I didn't know until it was too late,
McGarrett," Webb assured coolly.
Hovering dangerously over the CIA agent,
Steve restrained the impulse to punch the man. "What did you do with the
body, Webb?
"What -- "
"Jin Wu! I shot her! I've shot enough
people to know when I've fired fatal strikes, Webb, and she was dying!."
Grabbing the man by the collar he brought Webb to his feet. "You took the
body --"
Webb shoved him away, his eyes as cold as
iced-daggers. As cold as Jin Wu's hateful expression the first time -- the last
time -- he saw her. "You're deluded, McGarrett. So you've lost a body. Not
my problem."
John Manicote took
McGarrett by the arms and pulled him away. The governor ordered Steve to sit on
the other side of the oval table in the corner of the large room, opposite from
the covert agent. Only instinctive respect of authority held Steve in check.
"I just talked to the hospital,"
Jameson interposed smoothly as everyone calmed down. "The doctor was
pleased that Danny had no serious, permanent injuries."
"Yes, sir." Steve's voice and
manner were stiff, just this side of civility. Still standing, he was guarded,
wary of this urgent meeting which included Webb. He was also distracted.
Thoughts were still focused in that ICU at Leahi hospital.
"I'm glad he's going to be all
right," Manicote added.
Jameson ushered him to sit. "I thought
we should get this out of the way as soon as possible," he started, only
after McGarrett took a chair. "There was no way to keep this suppressed,
Steve. There has already been coverage on the local evening news."
"We're not insensitive, Steve," Manicote assured. "But with the press involved we're
going to have to go public on this. The sooner the better."
The questions, the comments, the verdict
seemed all settled, McGarrett realized. Feeling a sense of entrapment, of nasty
inevitability hanging in the air, he was also suspicious of Webb's presence.
"What do you mean, John?" he
glared at the Attorney General. "Spell it out for me!" His voice and
anger were rising and he fought to maintain the tenuous grip on his emotions --
a rein of control which he could almost tangibly feel slipping from him.
Manicote glanced at the others, then back to McGarrett.
"The wound was self-inflicted -- there's no way to deny it."
"You can't mention anything about Jin
Wu," Webb said, entering the conversation with the echo of doomed
finality. "Her presence here last year, today, must be kept secret."
The head of Five-0 knew what was coming. A
veteran of Naval Intelligence; he had seen cover-ups, white-washes and lies. He
recognized a frame-up for a scapegoat when he saw one.
"Danno did not try to commit
suicide," he said sternly, his voice trembling. "He was brainwashed!
Last year Jin Wu put some kind of fail-safe programming into his head! When the
mission was done he shut-down -- his heart stopped!"
Webb, now intent, leaned forward. "That
was never mentioned in your report."
"I reported it to the doctor, who
considered it an aftereffect of the drugs and trauma. Danno seemed fine in the
check-up." Desperate, he became impassioned with conviction. "I
wasn't sure it was latent programming then. Tonight it was the conditioning.
The latent programming. Danno did not try to commit suicide! Jin Wu controlled
him!"
Webb stared at the head of Five-0 with
unflinching brown eyes which seemed empty. "Semantics, McGarrett."
His tone became conversational. "Look, this was our operation. I owe you a
cover up."
"We don't need your lies, Webb."
"We have a cop in the hospital with a
self-inflicted gunshot wound in the head. Officially, there was no one else in
the apartment," he emphasized meaningfully. "You came on the scene
and found your officer --"
"That's why you took the body!"
Steve slammed his fist. "No body no evidence? No way to discredit the
cover story you want to spread that will ruin Danno? No!" McGarrett
shouted adamantly. "You're not going to destroy him like this."
"Yes!" Webb shouted, slapping a
palm onto the table. "You go along with this, McGarrett. One mention to
anyone outside of this room about Jin Wu and I'll slap you with a treason
charge and bury you in a hole! There is no evidence of any spies, no Jin Wu.
Only your man with a gunshot wound from his own gun in his head right
now!"
McGarrett came to his feet, fists balled so
tightly his hands ached. "Don't you threaten me! I'll take this to Enslow, to Jonathan Kaye --"
"Who do you think cut the orders? Don't
fight the government, McGarrett! There's no way to win!" Composing
himself, Webb leaned back in the chair. "We have everything
arranged."
McGarrett was enraged at the ultimatum. Not
so much for himself, but for Dan, who could not offer a defense.
"You know what this will do to Dan
Williams?" he stated in as firm a voice as he could muster. There was a
tremor in the tone and he strained for control. He looked to his supposed
allies, Jameson and Manicote. "The humiliation
--"
"We'll do this as tactfully as
possible," Manicote promised.
"My PR people are on it already in
conjunction with Manicote's staff," Webb assured
briskly, as if he had never raised his voice, or threatened the head of the
state police. "Don't worry about anything, McGarrett." He pushed over
a piece of typed paper.
McGarrett barely glanced at the page. He
could hardly focus on anything at this point, his mind was swimming in
disorientation. "So we just make up a story with a little truth and a lot
of lies and forget it ever happened?" he said shakily, barely containing
his rage as he studied a few lines on the paper. "This says Danno
attempted suicide! No way, gentlemen, no way! I won't lie like this about
Danno."
Jameson tried to placate McGarrett.
"What do you expect us to do, Steve?"
Webb interrupted. "There are witnesses
placing you at the scene, McGarrett. We can't buy them off, they've already
talked to some of your over-zealous local reporters. We have to fabricate
plausible fiction to fit the facts."
Steve was disgusted and he shook his head in
refusal. His world was spiraling to pieces and he was powerless to ebb the
destruction. Pacing in angry strides, he knew there was no way to fight it, but
Danno was about to be sacrificed to the god of deceit. Truth had always been an
important principle to McGarrett. In this case the distorted truth would hurt
like never before. It would destroy -- not himself, or Five-0 -- but Danno.
Steve wanted to protect his friend from the inevitable.
"I won't let you ruin his
reputation."
"You can't tell the truth,
McGarrett," Webb warned again.
"You're so good at lies, Webb," he
shot back, "Does it matter what lie we tell? Why can't we just say that I
found Danno in his apartment. He had been shot." Furiously he searched for
some alternate story. It wasn't easy; he wasn't used to this playing fast and
loose with the truth. "I didn't find an assailant and -- and --" he
licked his lips and faltered to a stop. His audience was unimpressed. Before they
could object, he blundered on. "When Danno regains consciousness he can
claim amnesia because of the head wound. It would be another unsolved case
--"
Manicote had been shaking his head and finally interrupted.
"Then there would be requests for my department to come in."
"We can't have loose ends," Webb
interposed. "The press will consider this too juicy. An unsolved case
would scream of Five-0 cover up. The DA, Internal Affairs from HPD, the
Attorney General would all be pulled in. Reporters will be tripping all over
themselves to discover the truth and we can't let them get anywhere near what
really happened. The best lie is something close to the truth, you know
that."
"Danno's friends -- some of them very
good cops -- they won't believe a word of this!"
"It will be taken care of. This is the
best deal I can give you --"
"No! I won't let you destroy
Danno," McGarrett reiterated sharply, bearing down on Webb with a towering
rage.
"You know how nasty intelligence smears
can get, McGarrett," Webb reminded dangerously. "How about if I tell
the press it was a lover's quarrel? He shoots his girl then turns the gun on himse -- "
"No -- "
"A lover's triangle with you as the
third party -- "
"No one in this city will believe
that!"
"I could utterly destroy Williams and
you and Five-0!" Webb countered viciously. "Don't make me get dirty,
McGarrett. I can exterminate your good name, or Williams' reputation, or your
whole staff, with such smut your head will spin! You or anyone else I want will
go down. This is what I do for a living, McGarrett! I've brought governments
down. I won't let you mess with my operation! Cut your losses and leave it
alone or get burned!"
Faint, psychic cobwebs brushed along the
inner walls of McGarrett's mind. Fear trickled through his senses as he considered
the threat. He had never engaged in the dirty tricks used by some in
intelligence circles. His conscience would never allow him to go over the line
of his moral code. That was one reason he left the spy business; times had been
changing and his ethics would not allow him to get too tainted by the filth.
Now, if he pressed this too far, he could cause even more damage to Williams.
Steve didn't want to think about how much worse it could get, because he knew
Webb had the resources and amoral background to make this more revolting than
Steve wanted to imagine. That thought kept him from taking this fight to the
limit. As much as it violated his sense of justice, he would stop before he
caused more grief to his friend.
"There must be a way to save Dan's
reputation."
"Not without more questions than we can
answer, McGarrett. You know, you make this sound like the end of the world. In
a few months no one will remember why Williams left Five-0. They'll bite into
some new, juicier scandal and forget about you and your cop."
Steve leaned against the wall, staring at
the floor.
"We handle the case from here,"
Webb instructed. "My agents have dealt with Jin Wu -"
"Where is the body?"
Webb simply shrugged. "You have no need
to know, McGarrett."
"Webb -- "
"Drop it!" the spy demanded.
"If the body ever turned up, it would have Williams' slugs in it."
Miserably, Steve shook his head. "I
fired the shots. I killer her after she forced -- after Danno was down."
Philosophically, Webb asked, "So what good
would it do you, McGarrett?" On McGarrett's silence he stated, "As
for Williams, he's already being transferred to the March Foundation for
deprogramming."
"What?" McGarrett shouted.
"Why wasn't I informed --"
"You just were," Webb snapped.
"Now get used to this, McGarrett. This is my operation and you are on the
outside. Period."
"This is my officer --"
"Just stay out of my way and you go
back to running Five-0!" Webb shouted harshly. He explained that a report
of Williams' resignation, pre-dated earlier in the day, would serve to diminish
the sensationalism of the events. "Like I said, I have everything taken
care of."
McGarrett exploded. "Resignation!"
"Steve --"
"No, John! Absolute --"
"Steve!" the governor nearly
shouted.
McGarrett slammed his fist on the table and
glared down at Governor Jameson with icy eyes. "I will not --"
"Steve! Listen!" It was a command
Jameson intended to be obeyed.
Reluctantly, McGarrett sat, contemptuously
staring from Jameson to Manicote to Webb.
"We have no choice, Steve," the
governor said. "Attempted suicide and brainwashing -- Danny is unsuitable
to remain with Five-0. I'm sorry, of course, but we have no choice. To keep him
on the force would be foolhardy."
Desperate, Steve turned to Manicote. "John, he was not responsible --"
"He is, Steve," the Attorney
General interrupted gently but with resolve. "He's unstable and dangerous
and if it was anyone else you wouldn't hesitate to throw him off the
force."
"For God's sake he's a victim here!
Danno never asked for any of this to happen."
"It did happen, Steve. Like it or not,
the consequences have to be faced." The governor's voice was calm and
sympathetic. "John and I hate this, too. Danny's been a good officer and a
good friend. But we can't condone this kind of mental instability in a
policeman working for our state. He tried to kill you twice, Steve."
"I was never in any danger from
Danno," Steve corrected, pleaded for understanding. His voice reflected
the fatigue of depression he felt descend on his being. He had come up against
a wall of immovable proportions. "There must be another option," was
his last ditch effort. Already he knew the answer and it drained the passion
from his heart, defeating the cause. A scapegoat was needed and was readily
available. Steve -- Danno -- had lost.
Manicote shook his head. "With Danny's resignation, we
give a vague report of instability and stress, then we can probably get away
with this whole thing."
"You mean sacrifice Danno's
future," was Steve's bitter reply.
"Better a quiet sacrifice than a public
slaughter," John returned. "Do you think if the truth were known it
would be any better for Danny?"
Part of Steve wanted to scream out at the
injustice of it all. Another part of him wanted to weep with sorrow and regret.
He gave in to neither. Feeling hollow and aching with loss, he accepted the
bitter compromise. There was no way to salvage anything now. Offering his
verbal agreement to the conspiracy, feeling like he was making a pact with the
devil, he willingly crushed his friend's world to dust and accepted the deal
with a mute nod of surrender. Webb offered to shake on it. McGarrett turned
away.
"I'll have John notify Danny's
relatives before it reaches the mainland press," Jameson offered.
"No," McGarrett snapped. "I
-- God, I'll have to tell his aunt. And his ohana here."
"Anything but the truth," Webb
reminded.
McGarrett mutely glared at each of the
conspirators, then left the office without acknowledgment of his part in the
dark alliance.
Forcing himself to push back the whirlpool
of emotions surging within, he tried to close out all thoughts of a suddenly
vacant future. He stalked to the end of the Capitol building's open air
walkway. Leaning on the solid wall edging the upper level, he overlooked the
back of the Palace and the beautiful grounds spread around the old building. He
stayed there a long time, the sea breeze blowing through his hair, as he tried
to sort out emotions and thoughts and regrets. He would have to stay there an
eternity to resolve the betrayal he had just condoned.
*****
As the tinny sound of the ringing phone
echoed in the earpiece of the receiver, McGarrett nervously tapped his fingers
on the desktop. His stomach knotted with tension and each ring twisted it a bit
tighter. He had made calls bearing bad news in his career as a cop, but never
anything this personally agonizing. Never did he want to make this call. Years
before, Danno and he had made a pact, to personally call the closest relative
in the event of serious injury or death. He had amended that a few years back
when Danno called Mary Ann after Steve was hospitalized with a skull fracture
from a bomb. Mary Ann's excessive agitation forced McGarrett to make Dan
promise never to call Mary Ann again unless the crisis was life threatening. He
had never been obliged to call Aunt Clara, and never thought he would.
Unquestionably this was the hardest call he had ever been compelled to endure.
"Williams' residence."
McGarrett licked his dry lips. "This is
Steve McGarrett calling from
"She is engaged with a dinner
party," responded the stuffy, formal, female voice.
"It's very important that I speak with
her," he responded sternly, his voice strained with tension.
"Please hold."
The fingers tapped more furiously in the
grueling silence. This would have been so much easier if Aunt Clara was still a
faceless old relative stuck on the east coast. After her visit a few years
back, when she had finagled herself into helping solve a case, she had become a
feisty, tenacious, permanent presence in his life. At first the relationship
was through her long distance messages ricocheting off her nephew. Then came
her more tangible appearances for Christmases in
The familial relationship with Danno made
this situation difficult enough. The bond of affection which had extended to
Aunt Clara made this call nearly unendurable.
In the back of his mind he realized the fear
of this moment had lived in repose for years. When Danno had been wounded
before he had been able to communicate the news to Clara on his own after a day
or two. This time, out of decency, Steve had to call her personally; his duty to
both Williams'.
"Hello, Steve."
"Hello, Clara."
"Sorry it took me so long. I broke my
leg last week during a revival of Macbeth and it's slowed me down, I'm afraid.
Is everything all right?"
The high-pitched, cultured voice belonged to
a trained, seasoned thespian. The tone, struggling for casualness, came from an
agonized loved one. There was no disguising the brittle snap of fear clinging
to every word.
He had rehearsed this in his mind a hundred
times. Now with the moment at hand he did not know how to break the news. His
fingers fairly danced with agitation on the felt blotter. Mouth stodgy with
dryness, he cleared his throat.
"It's about Danno. He's been involved
in a shooting. But he's alive," he assured quickly. It was rushed through
in one breath, a feeble explanation, but he felt it covered all the initial
details. "He'll be fine."
Clara's voice trembled with anxiety.
"Is he badly hurt?"
McGarrett hesitated. How much should he tell
her? He decided she would have to hear at least a portion of reality.
"I don't want you to be alarmed, Clara.
Danno is unconscious right now, but he'll be fine."
Of course, the news DID alarm the elderly
aunt. Her voice was tremulous. "How badly is he injured, Steve? Please
tell me the truth."
McGarrett licked his lips. "He was shot
in the head, Clara." At her gasp he nearly dropped the phone. "Clara,
are you okay? Clara?"
"Yes, yes, I'm all right, really,
Steve. It's just such a nasty shock. Are you sure it's not serious? Shot in the
head -- that sounds so dreadful. What aren't you telling me, Steve?"
McGarrett evaded. "The doctor said
there's no permanent damage. So I don't want you to think the worst." It
was a qualified lie he could live with. Clara didn't need to know the gory
details now. This was shock enough for the old girl. Although she was sturdy
for her seventy-odd years, she cared very deeply for her only nephew and Steve
looked on her as more emotionally frail than she appeared on the surface.
More than once during her recent visits she
had dropped broad hints to him privately that she expected her Danny to be kept
safe. She had imperiously assigned that responsibility to McGarrett.
Interpreting between the lines, Steve realized she had always been afraid of
something like this and was, in her own way, asking for his special
guardianship over Dan. The protection was as important to McGarrett as it was
to her. He was infinitely distressed to admit to Clara, and himself, that he
had failed in the bequest.
"Oh, dear, this is very bad," she
responded weakly.
"Now, Clara, please, remember the
doctor thinks he'll be fine.
"Are you sure he's all right? Don't try
to protect me, Steve," she finished with a stern warning.
"He'll be fine," he insisted with
blind temerity.
"Maybe I should come out," she said
as almost an aloud thought. "I don't get around very well, but I think I
should be there --"
"Clara, please, no, you don't have to
do that," he interrupted hastily. "Danno won't be able to visit with
you. Not right away."
He held his breath, hoping he could dissuade
her from flying out. It would be an added emotional strain on everyone
concerned to have to deal with Aunt Clara. Danno would certainly need time to
recover. Steve would get no peace trying to keep Clara out of trouble. He
needed to come to terms with this and could not afford the disruptions brought
on by the well meaning, meddling aunt. If she happened to dig too deep with her
interfering nature -- well, he wouldn't put anything past Webb -- not even
silencing a curious old woman.
"There's something you're not telling
me, Steve. I must know what's wrong!"
With a trembling hand McGarrett covered his
eyes and there was dampness on his palm. He had to tell the truth. For her to
find out from the press would be too cruel a blow.
"There's no easy way to say this,
Clara," he started heavily, his voice miserable, shaky. "Danno
--" he gulped down the wave of illness creeping up his throat. He couldn't
-- absolutely COULD NOT bring himself to deceive her with the cover story.
Maybe he could lie to others, but not to Clara. "Some press reports,"
he qualified, "say -- well, they say Danno shot himself."
There was a sharp gasp from the other end.
"Clara!" His hand fell to the
desktop and he used it to steady himself as he launched to his feet. Intently he
stared at the phone as if he could see through it to the east coast.
"Clara!"
"Yes, I'm here," came a thready voice broken by a sob. "It can't be true,
Steve. Danny would never --" Her voice broke down completely.
"I know. I know," he assured
hastily. "Now please stay calm, Clara. I'm handling this," he lied.
"Just take care of yourself. Do you have someone to stay with you?"
"I'm not an invalid, Steve."
"No, you're a loving aunt who's just
had a nasty shock, Clara. How would Danno feel if this whole mess caused you
some injury?"
Finally he convinced her that he was
investigating the incident. He shared her belief that there was a mistake, and
reassured her that he would do all in his power to take care of Dan.
"Even though I don't get around too
well, I need to be out there with him," Mrs. Williams sniffed.
McGarrett cajoled her to remain at her home
until Dan was up to a visit. With a few more weak protests Clara agreed.
McGarrett was to update her in a few days and Dan was to call her as soon as
possible. Steve promised to comply with all conditions and the conversation
ended on a brighter note; with Clara more settled, with McGarrett assuring her
Dan would recover soon.
"I'll be waiting for your call,"
she reminded. "I know you'll take good care of Danny until I can see him.
Remember to take care of yourself, too, Steve. Good night."
"Aloha, Clara," he had muttered,
musing over her inexplicable last admonition.
*****
Solitude was easy to savor in the warm night
breeze floating off the ocean, in the soft darkness tinged by a tropical moon.
Too many moments to count had been spent on this lanai; in the long depths of
the night, in the protracted hours before dawn. Many of those times had been
shared with Danno. The thought made Steve cringe and he swept back into the
dark office for an escape from his thoughts.
At the desk he collapsed, face in his hands.
He wondered why he didn't leave this building. Why torture himself by lingering
in the one place where memories were sure to haunt him the most intensely of
any place on earth? Right now, soul-deep sorrow wrenched his every fiber. He
had never experienced such a crushing blow in all his life. Deaths he had
endured. Failure to save someone he was responsible for -- well, that had
happened, too, but never like this. Not Danno. And that's where the difference
hit hard. This defeat struck his very heart. Five-0 was his unit, Danno like
his brother, yet his power was limited against the overwhelming, invisible
forces around them.
Determined to leave, he practically tossed
reports and files into the drawers. He stopped cold when he came upon the
personal article bag Duke had brought back from the hospital. Steve dumped the
contents onto the desk and out tumbled wallet, change, revolver and badge.
Mesmerized, McGarrett stared at the .38. Involuntarily, his hand reached out to
touch the cold, unfeeling metal -- the instrument of his friend's destruction.
He shoved the gun and other items into a drawer and smashed it shut, then
launched from the desk.
He was on the verge of a complete emotional
purge. It was a reaction of the stress, of the tragedy. It didn't matter.
Whatever the reason, he wanted to hold onto his control, yet feared he could
not.
The coffee machine still simmered in the
outer office and McGarrett poured out a cup of the expensive, rich Kona brew that he occasionally bought as a special treat
for the staff. Without volition he was drawn to the glass partitioned cubicle
which had been Williams' since Dan came to Five-0 eleven years before.
McGarrett turned on the desk lamp and sat on
the edge of the desk studying the decorated walls. Decor was a significant clue
to personality and Danno's office reflected it's occupant in everything here:
The desk was slightly messy with file folders and papers, but nothing too
disarranged. In the corner was a small picture of Dan with Aunt Clara from her
last visit at Christmas.
The picture made him shiver at the memory of
their talk a few hours before. The conversation ending with her admonition for
him to take care of himself was still inexplicable under the circumstances.
Bitter advise, salt to his wound of guilt. He failed to keep Danno safe. What
did his own well being matter in the shadow of these terrible events? Unable to
unravel the puzzle of Aunt Clara, he pushed his thoughts to other directions.
He scanned the walls of the office which
were covered with an eclectic collection: Surf posters, a photo of a volcanic
eruption, a map of the state, a bulletin board and some beach and sailing
photos. Nautical nick-knacks filled Danno's office
and apartment. A passion for the sea had always been a shared bond between the
detectives.
The awards and accolades displayed reflected
the modesty of the occupant. Some small framed certificates (McGarrett had even
supplied the frames) by the door revealed awards of merit in the line of duty.
There were some sharpshooting certificates and a
little league plaque for coach of the year for the Five-0 sponsored team. Like
the occupant of the room, the decor represented a life filled with activity,
purpose and vibrancy.
In anger and hurt McGarrett lashed out and
struck a fist down on the desk. It was all so agonizing -- it was all over for
Williams: His days as a cop -- as the successor as the head of Five-0 -- so
much else -- were finished. Tears started to seep from Steve's eyes and he
could not control the anger, the self-pity welling inside and spilling out.
Everything that Danno was -- everything they were together -- all pau.
One terrible incident finished a career and ruined McGarrett's dream of passing
on Five-0 to Williams.
Unable to stay, Steve returned to his own
office. Once out on the lanai the tears ebbed aside. His insides churned and
rolled in waves of bitterness. As he regained a grip on his feelings he tried
to sort through all the turmoil within.
This afternoon everything about life had
been so normal. Now it felt like his whole world had crumbled, as if the future
of Steve McGarrett was wrapped in the well being of Dan Williams. He was
grieving the loss of their goals and hopes, as much as the loss of Williams as
his second in command, as his partner and successor.
Glutted by self pity and remorse; a part of
him said he was entitled this time. From the vantage of a few feet away he had
watched Danno put a bullet in his head. Steve tried to step back and change the
perspective. What about Danno? If he felt Williams' career was over, if he
questioned Danno's usefulness, what would Danno think? What would he feel if he
knew how defeated and finished Steve believed them to be now?
McGarrett shook his head, bringing himself
back from the pit of depression. This was unacceptable. He could not allow
Danno to feel less than he was. He was alive and was still the same man he had
always been. So what if he was no longer with Five-0? That did not mean life
was over. Danno would bounce back -- HAD to bounce back. If clinging to
self-respect was slow for Williams, McGarrett would be there for him. Somehow,
together, they would get through this agony to whatever awaited on the other
side.
Steve felt stirrings of hope. The tears on
his face were just a memory and the ones inside were fading. Dan, and he, were
going to be okay. They would get through this -- McGarrett would see to it. If
nothing else, his sheer determined force of will promised recovery. Lives would
not change because of this set back -- not for Dan and not for himself.
Before he left the office he called Dan's
closest ohana, the Kulani's, the family he grew up
with. Already hearing rumblings on the coconut wireless, they were grieved to
discover the rumors of Dan's shooting were true. Promising to keep them
informed, he fled from the memories surrounding him.
*****
It was after
Dr. Rathman and
two armed guards met McGarrett when he entered the lobby. Rathman
was the scientist/doctor/expert in charge of research concerning mind control
and deprogramming. McGarrett knew his work from another
government/spy/brainwashing case last year. [SLEEPER]
Now Rathman had
been chosen, by higher powers, to repair the mental and emotional elements of a
shattered Dan Williams. While McGarrett respected Rathman
as a professional, he hoped the doctor was up to the task of fitting the broken
pieces of his detective back together.
"I know why you're here,
McGarrett," the blunt Rathman warned, holding up
his hands. "You can just turn around and go home."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
McGarrett tightened and retightened fists pumping with residual anger. He had
been stonewalled enough for one night, he wouldn't take it from Rathman. "I want to see Dan Williams!"
"Williams is stable and still
unconscious. There's nothing you can do for him now. Even if he was awake you
couldn't see him. My patients need isolation as part of their treatment. Until
further notice you are persona non grata."
Barely leashing his rage, McGarrett came
right up into Rathman's face, eye to eye. A tall,
broad man, the scientist remained unintimidated.
"Try and stop me."
Unimpressed, Rathman
nodded toward the guards. "This is private government property, McGarrett.
Your title holds no authority here. Go home. You'll be notified when you can
see Williams."
"That's not good enough, doctor!"
"You have no choice, McGarrett."
Even through the blind anger, McGarrett knew
there was no way to win here. Just as he had been defeated in the meeting with
Webb. Too livid to speak, McGarrett turned on his heels and left. He drove back
to
*****
The next morning McGarrett arrived at the
office at the unheard of late hour of
"It's all over the papers," Duke
warned. He offered a morning edition of the Advertiser. "Do you want to
see it?"
McGarrett shook his head. "The sharks
tried to catch me for a statement. They're circling downstairs." He
entered his private domain.
Duke followed. "I went along with the
official version," he commented with disgust.
Steve realized the detective must have been
approached by Manicote or Webb the night before. The
head of Five-0 placed his briefcase on the desk and took the paper from Lukela's hand.
"Guess I need to know what 'really'
happened," he said caustically.
He opened the paper and scanned the story:
Williams was portrayed as someone who
seemed completely in control and normal, then suddenly snapped for no apparent
reason. The papers speculated attempted suicide, but could not substantiate the
claim because NO ONE would make a statement to the press. McGarrett had
received Williams' resignation earlier in the day; had arrived on the scene too
late to stop the ex-second in command of Five-0 from the suicide attempt. No
official comment was released by Five-0 or McGarrett. The DA and Governor both
issued statements that Williams was a fine officer . . . . .
McGarrett threw the paper onto the desk with
a resounding slap. He crossed to the lanai doors and flung them open.
"I want you to clear out Danno's things
and move into his office today, Duke."
"Steve --"
"Don't say anything, Duke. Please. Just
do it."
There was a raw edge of danger in the tone.
McGarrett felt so brittle he thought he might snap if anyone said the wrong
thing. Right now his hurt and pain were buried in cold, consuming anger. He
would use the anger to get him as far as he could, knowing there would be a
time in the near future when anguish and sorrow would rule, overwhelming the
rage that could not last forever. For now, the anger would serve him best to
function; to run Five-0, to make the cover story believable without damaging
Danno anymore. One day there would be a reckoning, Steve promised himself, but
not today.
McGarrett turned back and sat down at the
desk. He did not want to work; to think, to even be there. For him, there was
no choice. He had to stay here and start rebuilding his life. On the other side
of the island his friend would do the same thing as soon as he awoke. Of
course, he would not know because he was not allowed information in that area.
The thought caused his anger to bubble over and he slammed a fist onto the
wood. Damn, Damn, Damn! He wondered what kind of a future could be built on the
foundation of deceit. One they would have to live with, it seemed.
Slowly he removed files and papers from his
briefcase. Crime, justice and punishment seemed so insignificant suddenly. For
the first time in many years he no longer felt that intense, inner passion for
his job. There was something -- someone -- more important. Nearly on the verge
of throwing all the papers in the trash and walking out, McGarrett forced
himself to think with responsibility and self-control. He had taken an oath to
the people of this state and he would not ignore his duty for personal reasons.
Starting through his morning routine, he
never quite committed his concentration to the effort, his focus still miles
away at the March Foundation. After a time, he gave up the pretense and escaped
to the lanai. Functioning meant believing in the future. He no longer cared so
much for the ideals of duty and causes -- last night had destroyed his faith in
a system he had truly believed to be just and right. Now his goals would have
to be for himself -- for Danno. McGarrett would rebuild Five-0, do his job and
wait. There would be a day when Williams would be released back into the real
world and McGarrett would be there for him. When that day came, Five-0 would
have to be able to function just fine without 100% of Steve McGarrett, because
his attention would be focused on Dan Williams.
*****
When Dan Williams awoke he seemed to move in
slow motion. He had trouble orienting himself in the strange surroundings.
Mentally he felt fuzzy, as if his thoughts were projected through a
brain-camera just slightly out of focus. His motor skills also correspondingly
slow and lethargic, he found, as he shifted to his side it seemed like an
agonizing process to move.
The man in the white coat who entered his
room looked familiar. A tall, square-jawed man with white hair. Rathman from the March Foundation. He had been a suspect in
a case Five-0 had worked on -- some time -- he couldn't quite place when.
"Hello, Mr. Williams." Rathman sat down next to the bed. "Do you remember
me?" he asked in a quiet voice.
"Yes," Dan responded, his tongue
thick with dryness and lethargy. He turgidity related the identification of the
doctor.
"What is the last thing you remember
happening to you?"
Williams thought backwards. There had been a
nightmare . . . His right hand twitched violently and he brought the hand up to
study the palsied appendage. A black haze filled his mind. Ever so slightly he
shook his head.
"Do you remember?" Rathman quietly asked.
"No," Dan mouthed more than
whispered.
"Do you want to remember?"
Shaking his head slowly, Dan instinctively
felt he did not want to know the answer to that question. Pain, in his head, in
his heart, started throbbing with terrible intensity. He pushed aside the
threatening memories.
"How -- long -- out?"
Rathman pondered a moment. "How long have you been out?
Two days." As Williams began to tremble the doctor repeated, "What do
you remember, Mister Williams?"
Jin Wu. The image slammed into his mind in a
full-fledged vision. She had been in the dream -- the nightmare . . . He
flinched, remembering terrible, indescribable pain . . . .
His heart thumped wildly against his chest
-- the weight and chill of a cold revolver in his hand. Like a video replay he
recalled pointing the gun at Steve McGarrett and pulling the trigger.
Miraculously, McGarrett had not been killed. There was a worse pain recollected
then; the pain of black guilt when Dan realized he was a trained weapon
targeted at his friend. To end that pain he had placed the barrel of the
revolver to his own head . . . .
Williams gasped from the shock of the memory
-- not a nightmare -- a memory! His face was bathed in hot tears, he
tentatively touched the side of his head and felt the bandages. Startled, he
realized he had been telling the story aloud to the doctor. He looked to Rathman. "I tried to kill Steve."
Slowly, Rathman
nodded. "Do you remember why, Mr. Williams?"
"Jin Wu," he tremulously
whispered. The anguish mingled with panic. "She was inside my mind. The
order was in my head." He fought back a sob. "I tried to stop."
He shook his head. "I couldn't -- I tried. The last shot -- the only way
-- to stop."
"You clearly remember turning the gun
on yourself?"
Face buried in his hands, Williams nodded.
"This was Jin Wu in your mind, again,
ordering your elimination after you killed McGarrett?"
Williams shook his head. "I don't
know."
Rathman placed a hand on Williams' arm to steady the younger
man. "You don't have to say anymore, Mr. Williams. We're going to help you
recover."
He stood and crossed to the door. He called
in an aide to administer a sedative. Pausing, he watched the former detective
cringe with torment. Rathman had encountered
McGarrett and Williams in '78. This was the first time Rathman
had accepted a patient he had known before the victim's mind had been
scrambled. It was infinitely sadder this way; observing the before and after of
a once whole person.
McGarrett and Rathman had butted heads throughout the investigation which had brought Five-0 to the Foundation. The similarly strong-willed, stubborn men had earned a grudging respect for each other. Williams had seemed a competent and dedicated policeman; one McGarrett had relied on through the whole inquiry.
When McGarrett had stormed the Foundation in
the early hours of yesterday morning to try and see Williams, Rathman had realized these two policemen were not merely
colleagues, but close friends. That factor obviously made a difference to
McGarrett. Painfully, it made a difference to Williams and the trying recovery
to come.
As Rathman stood
observing the distraught Williams, who still shook with sobs, the doctor felt a
pity he had never experienced before. Commiseration for two people who could
never again enjoy the friendship which had certainly been a mainstay in their
lives. The importance of that friendship had been obvious when the livid
McGarrett tried to see Williams. The proof of the profound devotion of their
relationship evidenced by the anguished younger detective. Rather than harm his
friend, Williams -- whether programmed to or not -- had turned to suicide. The
awesome sacrifice made Rathman feel fortunate he had
never known friendship on that level and depth. It was a responsibility too
overwhelming for a pragmatic scientist.
*****
McGarrett looked through the one way glass
at the stark, spartan enclosure. It could have passed
for a hotel room anywhere in the country except for the mirror. On his side of
the looking glass there were electronic monitors, recorders and two staff
members, all focused on the single occupant, Dan Williams. Oblivious to the
surveillance, Dan placidly sat at a desk looking out a window. The wan face,
the slumped stature, the small bandage on the side of his head, told of
incomplete recovery.
McGarrett reached a hand out and briefly
brushed his fingers against the glass. Then his hand clenched into a fist. His
jaw worked back and forth, teeth grinding with pent up frustration. Needing to
direct his wrath at some target he turned to the person next to him.
"I want to see him."
Dr. Rathman shook
his head. "You ARE seeing him."
"That's not what I mean,"
McGarrett growled. "It's been over three weeks --"
The doctor just shook his head negatively.
"And it could be three months or three years, McGarrett. I invited you out
here as a courtesy. It's too dangerous for you to talk with Williams."
"I won't accept that!" Steve
retorted acidly. "Danno is not going to do anything to me --"
"Can you promise he won't do anything
to himself?" Rathman shot back harshly.
The rhetorical question left McGarrett
without a response. In silence he fumed and turned back to stare into the room,
which to him signified a bleak prison. The March Foundation considered it a
comfortable, scenic-view cell. Fist still clenched, he gently pounded it
against the glass barrier that was a frustrating, impenetrable blockade.
It had been over most of a month since
Williams had been transferred from the hospital to the special think-tank
Foundation. Rathman and his colleagues specialized in
mind control and brainwashing studies. They had the delicate job of sorting
through the damage done to Williams during his hypnosis/brainwashing. They
would see if they could discover the extent of the subliminal programming, then
deprogram whatever commands were still hidden inside Williams' brain.
During the weeks here, Dan had been allowed
no contact with the outside world. He saw only Rathman
and staff. McGarrett had not been allowed to see or talk to his colleague. Now
that he stood only a few feet away, Steve almost wished he hadn't come. It was
good to see Dan, good to know he was recovering well. His hair had partially
grown back over the area of his head wound. Thinner, slower, he seemed in
relatively good health. Yet, the man who blankly looked out the window was not
Danno. There was some indefinable spark of glitter; in the face, in the eyes, which
symbolized the former Williams personality, which was now missing.
Steve's angle changed and he glanced at his
reflection etched in the glass. 'Through the looking glass darkly,' he thought.
His own image was off-center, unnatural. The face staring back at him was not
Steve McGarrett. The reflection of an empty shell, as empty as the shell of the
Dan Williams in the room. They were incontrovertibly altered and they may never
be able to go back again to what they were. This was the first moment he truly
comprehended that grave truth and it depressed him more than he could fathom.
"I've got to see him," Steve
insisted firmly, but less harshly than before.
Rathman shook his head. "His last conscious program was
to kill you."
"I know," McGarrett said flatly.
"I was there."
"Then don't be silly about this. You
don't know and I don't know, what effect your appearance will have on Williams.
I know you don't want to cause any irreparable damage, McGarrett. There's
enough to sort out all ready. You would just complicate things."
Of course he did not want to put any more
stress on Danno. To not talk to him however, to not see him -- really see him
in the same room -- this was a new kind of torture.
"How are things coming?"
"I can't --" Rathman
stopped himself. "We're progressing steadily is all I can say."
McGarrett nodded thoughtfully, accepting the
vague answer. Contemplatively, he pinched his lower lip as he silently studied
his friend. "All right, doctor, then when CAN I talk to him?"
Rathman shook his head in exasperation. "McGarrett, you
aren't listening. You can't meet with him until he is cured. Period. Don't call
us, we'll call you."
Rathman turned away to leave and McGarrett grabbed his arm.
"I can't just leave it like this."
His emotions over this were very private and
it would be a sign of weakness to expose his inner feelings to Rathman, who had become a kind of adversary. He could not
explain to the specialist how important this was. Dan was his closest friend.
They had been through hell together and the only way back was together. There
was so much unresolved. He could not abide this lack of closure to a
relationship which meant everything to him -- the only real relationship in his
life of any meaning and endurance. There needed to be a resolution to the past
and a new building of the future.
The blunt doctor was not giving any leeway
in the tug of war. "I explained our strict regimen. It cannot include you,
McGarrett. I'm sorry."
"I can observe some of the sessions --"
"Definitely not!" It was an
absolute command.
Instantly, McGarrett knew he was onto
something. "Why? What are you hiding?"
"Classified information," was the
maddeningly firm reply. "As a favor to you I allowed you in today to see
for yourself that we aren't mistreating Williams, or subjecting him to cruel
experiments of any kind. Now, I think you better leave."
"What are you keeping from me,
doctor?" McGarrett demanded. He came to a stop between Rathman
and the door and he planned on being an immovable object until he got an
answer.
The doctor levelly glared into McGarrett's
eyes. There was defiance and stubbornness there, but at last compassion
overruled them and his expression softened.
"You won't like it, McGarrett."
"I haven't liked anything about this
whole damn mess!"
Rathman offered a slight nod. He asked the detective to
accompany him to the cafeteria for coffee. With a glance at Williams, Steve
refused the offer and demanded he get the explanation immediately.
Sighing, Rathman
agreed. Without mincing words he related that Williams had complete recall of
all the events of his programming. Clearly, he remembered shooting at McGarrett
and then shooting himself. He was also completely aware of the professional and
personal repercussions of those acts. Considering himself a inadequate, he
wished to be completely disavowed by Five-0 and McGarrett.
McGarrett's first reaction was to sweep
aside any consideration of failure. Danno had not been in control -- none of
this was his fault.
"Don't tell me," Rathman said, holding up a hand to halt McGarrett's tirade.
"This is the way Williams feels. That's another reason I don't want you to
see him. There are a lot of unresolved psychological problems connected with
this brainwashing. It will take time to sort them out. The bottom line is he is
depressed, guilt-ridden and washed out mentally. We -- he -- has to rebuild his
mental stability. Until then he stays here as our guest. When we think he is
ready to talk with you it will be arranged."
Several objections leaped into McGarrett's
mind. This was not 1984 and they could not keep Dan a prisoner.
As head of the state police he must have certain rights. Worst of all was the
vagueness about a cure. It could take months or years. The thought of Dan
imprisoned in this place; imprisoned inside his own mental cell of guilt and
loneliness, was almost overwhelming for McGarrett. He couldn't allow it. What
could he do to alter it? Dan held hostage, imprisoned by criminals -- in those
situations he could, had, engineered rescues. How could he rescue Danno from
his own guilt, of a prison of his own making? Within Williams there had always
been a deep capacity for guilt. Over the years, McGarrett had worked hard
to build self-confidence within his friend. This place now was worse than
a backslide to square one, it was devastating.
Beyond those basics were other disturbing
questions. What happened when Dan was proven cured? Would he -- would Steve --
always worry about subliminal commands coming to the surface? Could they ever
be sure Williams was cured? Would McGarrett reflect that doubt when he saw Dan
again? It would shatter his friend if there was any element of suspicion in his
mind.
Then there was the question of what Dan
would do when he was free. Few were the options for someone publicly labeled a
washed-out cop. With the adverse publicity, how could he live as a normal
citizen?
Steve took one more look at his friend,
placing a palm on the glass. "Keep me informed," he ordered, then
turned and left.
*****
"I came to kill you"
Dan Williams pointed a finger at his face, pretending to fire a
gun. Jin Wu hovered behind him as a transparent ghost.
Gunshots blasted, reverberated through McGarrett's mind, echoing
painfully in every element of his brain.
Blood sprayed from the end of Williams' finger. A gash opened on
the right side of his head and blood oozed out.
Steve tried to talk but had no power of speech.
"I have to kill you." Dan told him. "I have to
kill I -- " he placed the bleeding finger to his head. "I have to
kill"
"No!" Steve screamed, jolting up
from the couch. Gasping for breath, he fell back down on the cushions,
disoriented.
Another nightmare.
Chilled and trembling, he burrowed into the
cushions for warmth. Keeping his eyes open, he focused on the city lights
dotting his
Walking to the kitchen he drank some water
and stepped out to the lanai for fresh air. The summer night air warmed his
skin and cleared his chest of tight clogs of tension. The faint thrum of
traffic helped anchor him to the real world, pushing aside the intangible
spectres of the phantasms haunting his dreams. Ghosts were no strangers to his
nights, but these horrors shook him to the soul. All too close to reality, the
recurring nightmare of Williams' shooting tortured him too frequently.
The clock read after
The scenario read the same as all other
visits -- his irritated, stubborn responses also consistent with past visits.
Finally venting his anger and frustration, he left, driving straight to the
Palace. As always, he would bury himself in his work and hope exhaustion would
keep the nightmares at bay for a few nights. With papers in front of him, pen
in hand, he tapped the desk, wondering if the nightmares would cease when he
finally talked with his friend again.
*****
As usual, for the duration of the summer,
McGarrett closed the office late, well after the tropic sun had set beyond the
pacific. On this eve the last glow of moon silver-tinged the August night. The
old-styled lamps in front of the Palace lit the grounds with small orbs of
light. McGarrett crossed the driveway, fishing in his pocket for his keys. He
stopped at his Mercury to unlock the door and became aware of a presence behind
him. Hand on his revolver, he turned to face a woman. Recognizing the familiar
face, he sighed. Disappointed in his instincts, he thought he should have felt
his skin crawl if Margie Vernor were anywhere in the
vicinity.
"Hi, McGarrett."
"Ms. Vernor."
He climbed into the car without further
acknowledgment of the TV reporter.
"Come on, McGarrett. Don't you think
you've carried out this silence long enough?" She effectively placed
herself next to him, blocking the door.
"No," was his curt reply.
"It's been weeks and you still won't
spill the coconuts, McGarrett. What really happened with Dan Williams?"
"No comment."
"That's what you've told everyone,
McGarrett. I know this has to bug you. He was your top dog here, and you just let
the DA bounce him from the force. Your star pupil is all pau. What
gives?"
The persistent reporter caught him at the
end of a long day, a long few weeks. He had felt a sense of finality about the
entire day; new officers chosen to join the team, the clearing away the old.
Perhaps it would be best to give the reporter what she wanted, and move out
from the shadow of the past.
"The investigation was handled by the
DA to avoid a conflict of interest."
"And you allowed control to slip out of
your hands? That doesn't sound like you, McGarrett."
He thought back to that grueling
confrontation in Governor Jameson's office, when the future of Five-0 and Dan
Williams had been decided despite McGarrett's opinions or objections.
"They had the law on their side,"
he finally replied.
"What do you think of their findings?
Do you think Williams tried to commit suicide?"
McGarrett stared straight ahead, not seeing
the Palace grounds, but a blur of memories he could never suppress.
"McGarrett?"
Startled from his thoughts, he replied,
"I don't like their findings. That is, however, what the DA believes. I
can offer no proof to refute the charges."
The Vernor was
incredulous. "So you're just going to let it go? You're not going to fight
it, McGarrett?" Her attack came as rapid-fire verbal bullets. "What
happens to Williams? What happens to the inter-structure of Five-0? What
happened to the infamous volcanic-tempered-McGarrett? You usually go to the
wall for your men, McGarrett, why not now? Did Williams fall from grace? Or is
Five-0's reputation more important than a stressed-out cop?"
Uncharacteristically, Steve ignored the
insults, the accusations flying too close to the truth. Control over his Irish
temper came easily when he considered the possible consequences of injudicious
comments he might make.
"Dan Williams is now a civilian of the
State of
"What about --"
"Enough, Ms. Vernor!
Interview over!"
For the first time in the session he glared
at her and saw her visibly react to his hard glower, or perhaps to the cold
crispness in his tone. Whatever it was, the reporter stepped out of the way and
he closed the door.
"Thanks, McGarrett. For nothing."
Without acknowledgment he backed the car out
and sped the Mercury away.
*****
McGarrett paced the entrance foyer with
sharp, incisive strides. The afternoon shift staffed different people than the
unfortunates who confronted him on his occasional excursions in the middle of
the night. Today, his nerves were taut with anticipation. He had received a
perfunctory summons by Rathman to come immediately to
the March Foundation. As he paced he pondered what the invitation might mean.
Optimistically, he hoped he would finally be able to meet with Williams.
For several months he had been denied any
visitation with or update about his friend. In that time he had struggled with
an indefinable emptiness he could not really cope with. His life was now
forever changed and he had not come to terms with the alterations.
The cover story had been accepted by the
press with hardly a ripple. Cops gone bad were easy prey for the media.
Williams' reputation was ruined and he was branded as one of the statistics; an
emotionally wrecked cop who could not endure the pressure. Soon after the
sensational story broke, it was old news. Dan Williams, as Webb predicted,
became just another name to the fickle press.
The public may have forgotten the events,
but Five-0 would never be the same with Williams 'retired'. Steve, Dan,
Five-0 were all so interrelated it was hard to separate them into distinct
parts. From the beginning, Steve's goal had been to train Williams, groom him
as the future successor. Then when the time was right Five-0 would be turned
over to him, to run as it had always been run. Now that was impossible. With
the loss of that dream of the future, McGarrett found he had lost interest in
Five-0, too. The passion was washed away and replaced with a mundane sense of
duty. He would do his job because it was his obligation, but there was no
enthusiasm left in the office, or in his heart.
Rathman arrived and McGarrett offered him a curt greeting.
"You'll be happy to know Mr. Williams
is ready to see you now," Rathman said with a
broad smile.
McGarrett nearly shouted with sheer elation.
"That's wonderful! How is he?"
"A little rocky, but under the
circumstances, stable," was the doctor's reply. They started down a
corridor to an elevator. "He's been briefed on what has been going on in
his absence. The retirement and so forth."
McGarrett felt a pang of relief. It would
save some agonizing scenes now that Danno knew about the ruse constructed to
save everyone's face except the wounded ex-officer.
"How did he take it?" McGarrett
asked quietly. His regrets were he had not fulfilled his duty to personally
deliver the bad news. Nor had he been there to cushion the blow for his friend.
"Very well," Rathman
replied. "You've trained him well, McGarrett. He knows the ropes."
As they rode the nearly silent elevator up, Rathman condensed the highlights of the official report
which would be forwarded to McGarrett. Essentially, the diagnosis stated that
Williams was as stable and cured as they could possibly determine. There
remained no latent programming, no threat to McGarrett or anyone else in
society or to Williams himself.
"What about that fail-safe order to
self-destruct?"
Rathman hesitated before he replied. "We could not
positively determine the existence, or non-existence, of a self-destruct
program."
"After the first torture his heart
stopped."
"Sounds like a self-destruct ploy, but
there was no evidence of that the second time he encountered Jin Wu."
"Then what do you call the suic --" McGarrett trailed off, the impact of the
doctor's comment hitting him full force. The thought brought an icy fist
clamping around his heart. Steve fought for a voice lost in the grip of fear.
"The shooting. What does that mean?"
"We aren't operating in a perfect
science, McGarrett. I can't give you guarantees. I can't be one hundred percent
sure he'll ever be normal again. I can only give you my professional opinion.
As far as the suicide attempt goes, well, he wanted to discuss that with you
himself. Still, I am confident Williams is no longer a danger to himself or to
you," he finished. There was a flash of uncertainty across his expression.
"I'm not sure Williams is as confident in himself. He remembers everything
he did and he's coping with it very well," Rathman
added. He stopped at an unmarked door. "I think you should be prepared for
a different Offi-- Mister Williams than you knew
before."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Getting around all the psyche
mumbo-jumbo, McGarrett, just think about the situation. Someone was playing
inside his mind. The games got murderous, then suicidal. Do you think you'd be
the same after that?"
Steve had no answer to the rhetorical
question. He had experienced his own kind of mind games in Hell. They had never
reached the ultimate point of Williams' experience. This was territory he could
not quite comprehend.
"Just want you to try and
understand," the doctor said.
Steve almost scoffed. 'I understand a lot
more than you think.'
"He's going to need all the help he can
get. And a good friend."
Rathman opened the door and gestured McGarrett inside. Once
the detective was in, the door was closed behind him.
The room was different from the one he had
seen before, but still very spartan. Dan stood by the
window. He turned when McGarrett entered, his eyes, his readable face, were
colored with apprehension. This close and in the reflected sunlight, Steve was
startled at the pale complexion, taut with anxiety, which had visibly aged. The
scar on the side of the head remained a vivid reminder of the ugly incident,
and Danno's hair had turned predominately frosty-white -- a pigment reaction to
the upheaval. Changes were more than just on the inside from this tragedy.
Nervously, Dan rubbed at his right temple. For the first time McGarrett
wondered if his friend was on medication. Suicide-threats were sometimes kept
on sedating drugs until the doctors felt they were stable. The possibility
chilled Steve.
Suddenly fidgety himself, McGarrett gulped
down a knot of anxiety in his throat. He strove for a firm but quiet tone
disguising his anxiety.
"Danno. It's so good to see you."
The truth spilled out, laced with all the affection and concern he had harbored
for months.
The younger man blinked and seemed a bit
surprised at the warmth in McGarrett's tone. "Hi, Steve," he
responded with an attempt at a smile. A little life -- emotion -- sparked in
the stark blue eyes.
"How're you doing?" McGarrett
hoped his sincerity would soften the stiff words.
Williams looked away and nodded.
"Better than last time."
The calm, coherent, dispassionate, monotone
manner was unnerving to Steve. He remembered the highly emotional scene they
had gone through last year when Danno had realized his extreme actions during
brainwashing. McGarrett preferred that passionate purge to this constrained,
depressed calm. Probably because he sensed the control was not directed at him.
It was an instinctive survival mechanism Dan had erected around himself. A
protective endurance technique which barricaded emotions of any kind.
McGarrett knew all about such walls. He had
maintained his own for so many years he could easily detect them in others. It
was heartbreaking to see Williams revert to the method. It meant his protégé'
had been so hurt by events he could no longer take the risk of feeling
anything. A kind of emotional death. For someone so full of vivacious
exuberance, it made the present Williams seem like a shadow-person.
Unable to deal with this unexpected
obstacle, Steve paced the room as he spoke. He had to break through the
ice-wall and touch the real Danno.
"What do you remember?"
"Everything," was the simple
reply.
'The hypno-therapy
did not even allow him the luxury of partial amnesia,' Steve agonized. His own recollection of his
experience in
"Part of my therapy means I have to
face the past," Williams said quietly. There was a hint of hesitation to
go on, but he seemed to force himself. "I'm sorry I've hurt --" The
brow creased and he stared with troubled eyes at the wall. "I'm sorry --
I've -- that I've let you down."
"No, you've never let me down, Danno.
Never." McGarrett closed the distance between them, trying to establish
some eye contact. Dan refused to look at him. "I've always been proud that
you were on the team. And when I wasn't happy with your work I was never timid
about voicing my opinions."
A shadow-grin twitched at his lips.
"True," was the younger man's shaky response. He cleared his throat
and after a moment said, "I have a lot of things I need to say to you,
Steve. But not here."
"Whenever you're ready, Danno."
"No, I mean after we leave here. Didn't
Rathman tell you I'm being paroled?"
"No. When?"
For the first time Williams turned and
looked into McGarrett's eyes. Amusement sparked his expression.
"Now," Dan said with wonder. "Can I get a lift back home?"
McGarrett was speechless for a moment.
"Ah -- great!" he said finally. Then exuberantly, he patted Williams'
on the shoulder. "Great! Wonderful!" He laughed at the magnificent
surprise.
Dan grinned and the humor collapsed the
invisible bridge between them. Steve fondly placed a hand on the back of
Williams' neck. "Let's get out of here."
*****
On the drive back to
"My car's here."
"I had your things brought over
--" McGarrett hesitated for a moment, then forged ahead. "After what
happened at your apartment, I didn't want you going back there. All your stuff
is in the spare room here." He parked the Mercury next to the Mustang.
"Consider this your place for as long as you want."
Williams shook his head. "No -- I
can't, Steve."
"Why not?"
"I won't," Williams insisted. He
launched out of the car and walked through the row of trees to the strip of
beach at the back of the house. McGarrett followed at a run. He easily caught
up with his friend and walked apace of him along the beach.
"What's wrong?"
"Rathman told
you his results. Don't you understand what they mean?"
"He said you had been
deprogrammed."
Williams came to a stop and stared out at
the placid bay. "As far as they're able to determine." The painful
words matched the younger man's tortured expression. "They can't make
promises, Steve. They can't guarantee I'm deprogrammed."
"I know, Danno, I got the standard
lecture --"
"I'm still a threat to you!"
McGarrett seized the shorter man by the arm.
"You were never a threat to me, Danno," he insisted sternly.
"Never! Believe me!" McGarrett paused, unsure what to say next.
Williams tried to shrug away from the grasp,
but was held firm by his determined companion. "How do we know what will
happen tomorrow or next year? Jin Wu could pop up on your doorstep and I -- I
could -- I can't take the risk --"
McGarrett's grip tightened. "Jin Wu is
dead. I shot her."
"But Rathman
said there was no investigation, no body --"
"Webb's tricks, but I shot her, Danno.
She's dead. No more threats from her. You're safe."
Unable to accept the assurances, Dan
insisted he could not stay. Williams shook his head. "It's too dangerous,
Steve. If I leave the island --"
McGarrett's grip tightened. "You would never harm me, Danno. I KNOW that. You've got to believe it too." Silence met his imploring. Pressing, he demanded, "Why are you talking like this? It's not like you to run away ---"
"I'M not like me!" he anguished. "Everything is changed, Steve, most of all me! You know that better than anyone."
"You can't leave! This is your home!"
"I can't be a danger to you. There's got to be distance between us. It's my job to keep you safe."
It was a jumble of past insecurities, former worries, future anxieties all crashing together in his desperate desire to keep his friend safe.
Losing his patience, McGarrett repeated actions taken during their last, tense confrontation were orchestrated by the spy mater Jin Wu. None of it reflected on Williams, and in fact, the detective had valiantly overcome the binding mind-control to break free and not do as the woman commanded. Stubbornly, Williams was not swayed.
"Do you really think I blame you?"
"You should blame me! You should hate
me! I tried to --"
"No --"
"-- to kill --"
"You tried to kill yourself,"
McGarrett corrected, his voice filled with compassion. He took hold of
Williams' chin and Steve forced his friend to look at him. There was both
danger and affection in his expression and tone. "You're not leaving my
sight," he threatened in an almost parental tone of sternness. "After
everything we've survived I will not let you abandon ship."
"We'll never know if the subliminal
programming is still in my head, Steve." Williams tried to pull away, but
McGarrett held a hand at the back of Dan's neck. "I could be a time-bomb
to you."
"Or yourself," McGarrett countered
grimly. He had not intended to voice his concerns, but this seemed to be the
time to clear away their fears, then concentrate on the future. Soberly, he
revealed, "I'm afraid your self-destruct program is still there. You've
proven you're more of a threat to yourself than to me."
Williams shook his head. "It wasn't the
programming," he said miserably. "I put the gun to my head, Steve.
Jin Wu didn't."
"She brainwashed you, Danno. Her
programming made you pull the trigger. It's not your fault."
"I was programmed to kill."
"There's no way you could ever
willingly kill yourself!" McGarrett snapped. "Not me and not
yourself!"
Tears streaked the younger man's face and he
didn't bother to wipe them away. "I could if I had to save you."
Steve drew his shaking friend into a tight hug and held him there for a long time. He felt himself tremble from the anguish coursing his soul; hurt for what his friend had gone through, pain at the new knowledge that Williams had done all this, or believed he did, to save McGarrett. His eyes pooled with tears, and he shuddered as the horrific implications settled into comprehension. For the first time since the whole nightmare of Jin Wu had begun, he wept. Some of the lament was for the grief behind and ahead of them. Part of the breakdown was from his affection for this man who misguidedly insisted on being so heroic and noble. Williams had taken a bullet in the head -- possibly choosing that over being a threat to McGarrett. Part of it was for all they had lost, and the frightening, unexplored future where they stood on the threshold of a terrifying frontier.
It was frightening to think of the lengths
of sacrifice Williams would go to in the name of friendship. What could Steve
possibly do to payback that kind of loyalty and love? He didn't know, but he
was going to use all the time and energy he possessed to try.
When he regained enough control of his
emotions to speak, he stated, "I still don't believe it. But, that's
behind us, now, Danno." His voice was still shaky. "We can't keep
wondering what really happened, or if you're totally cured. Or if Jin Wu is
alive or dead. We'll probably never know for sure, knowing Webb."
He subdued the anger which flashed into his
mind at THAT unresolved problem. What no one knew was that McGarrett had his
own 'old boy' intelligence connections and they were quietly searching the
globe for Jin Wu.
"The doubts will drive us insane if we
let them," he continued. He pulled back, but retained a firm grip on
Williams' shoulders. "We start fresh here and now. If we let this ruin us,
then Jin Wu and Webb have won after all. I won't allow that, Danno. Not after
all we've been through."
The tears spent, Williams wiped his face dry.
"You can't leave," was McGarrett's adamant insistence.
Slowly, he nodded in tentative agreement.
"If I stay here," he deliberated cautiously, "I don't want you
doing this because you think you owe me some obligation or something."
"What does that mean?"
"I just don't want this hanging over
our heads. Like you owe me a debt."
'I do owe you more than I can repay,' he thought silently. Aloud, he said, "I'm doing
this because you're my friend, Danno. Is that okay?" he finished wryly.
Williams nodded. "Thanks."
"Now, let's consider this a closed
subject." McGarrett stepped away and raised his eyebrows in silent
emphasis that his demand had better be met. He put an arm around Dan's
shoulders and directed them toward the house. "Let's get you settled in.
I'll let Duke know I'm taking the rest of the day off."
*****
They spent the evening in low-key
conversation and subdued activity. For the most part Williams ambled through
the house or walked on the beach, as if studying new and foreign territory.
McGarrett fixed dinner, then helped Williams unpack some of the belongings
boxed in the spare room. McGarrett kept a careful eye on his friend who
maintained restrained and rigidly controlled reactions for the rest of the day.
How would he react to the sorting of articles and memories from the painful
past?
The first major hurdle came when Williams
found the box marked OFFICE. Slowly, he opened the lid. Framed pictures and
awards were on the top. Williams removed the photo of Aunt Clara and him.
"I called her before you came
today," he said quietly.
McGarrett had been removing books from a box
and now stopped. He sat on the floor next to Williams.
"What did you tell her?"
"The version of the lie Webb
wanted," Dan responded with a bitter tone. "What good would the truth
do for her?"
McGarrett didn't respond to the obvious that
Clara already guessed the suicide story to be a lie. She knew her nephew better
than that. "Rathman gave you the cover
story?"
"Yeah, and Webb. He dropped in a few
days ago."
Steve ground his teeth in anger. "He had
no right to disturb you."
"Before they released me they had to
know I would stick with their program," Williams explained.
"He threatened you?"
"Not in so many words, but he made it
clear I wouldn't go anywhere until I agreed to the plan."
Covert activities were dirty games. After
"So I told Aunt Clara I was
overstressed and -- and went for an extreme solution." He gazed out of the
upstairs window, seeing beyond the crystal blue water of the bay. "She
took it like a trooper," he said distantly. There was regret and hurt in
the uneven tone. "But she was torn up about it, Steve."
For several moments Williams became still,
unseeing.
McGarrett was concerned at the
overly-controlled reaction. So far today he had seen a lot of heart-breaking
emotions from Williams. Among those extreme feelings, anger was not surfacing.
There was no rage, just hurt.
Just like last year after the initial
brainwashing. Then, the disorientation, the confusion the rebellion, but not a
volcanic blow-up. McGarrett worried at the lack of fire in his formerly
impulsive, flashpoint-anger friend. He was concerned that bottling that rage
would only make the recovery process extended and more difficult. Also, he
worried that Williams could not come right out and say, in conversation -- not
confession -- that he had shot AT McGarrett, then shot himself. Of course,
McGarrett had not been able to discuss it with anyone either, but he sensed
some deep avoidance here which also made him anxious about Danno's long-term
health.
Steve touched Williams' arm.
"Danno?"
"Yeah," Williams started.
"I'm okay," he said quickly. "It's just that so much will never
be the same. Kinda hard to get use to." He put
the photo aside, upside down, then reached into the box for another item. His
hand was shaking so badly the next picture frame rattled. He quickly placed it on
the floor without looking at it.
"Maybe we should save this --"
"I have to face this sometime,
Steve."
"Not today."
Ignoring the advise, Williams withdrew a
square, carved wooden case from the box.
McGarrett grabbed hold of the box.
"Let's come back to this later," he adamantly advised.
"I can handle it."
Determined to struggle through this tough
test, Williams pulled the box from McGarrett's reach and unclasped the lid.
Inside was a familiar leather badge case and .38 revolver. As if stung,
Williams dropped the box.
"You take this, Steve. I won't touch it
-- not any gun again." He looked at his friend. "Especially with you
around."
Williams had gone white with fear. McGarrett
closed the case and put it aside. He wasn't sure where this extreme reaction was
coming from, but he responded as calmly as he could.
"It's just your revolver, Danno."
"I don't want to take any chances,
Steve. The last time I held this --" he searched for another track of
explanation. "I can't trust myself with a weapon, Steve. Never. I can't be
sure what will happen."
The reaction seemed a ridiculous extreme.
McGarrett did not voice that opinion. He did reiterate (he figured he would
have to repeat this phrase for some time to come) that Williams was cured and
according to Rathman, no longer a threat to anyone
including himself and McGarrett. He also mentioned that since Williams was a
former state policeman, it was only common sense to carry a gun. All retired
cops carried pieces for protection. There were many people out walking around
who could come after Williams in revenge for his actions in the line of duty.
All policemen, especially Five-0 detectives, had a lot of enemies.
Williams adamantly insisted he would never
carry or fire a gun again. He asked McGarrett to take the revolver and never
bring it back. Acceding to his friend's wishes, McGarrett removed the .38 from
the box. He then handed the badge case to Williams.
"I hope you want to keep this."
The thin metal shield meant so much to McGarrett: his authority, his ideals,
his career, his life. He knew it meant as much to Williams. Although it hurt to
know the badge was now just a sentimental ornament, McGarrett hoped Williams
would respect it as much as he had that first day he'd presented it to the
young, new Five-0 detective when Williams was freshly promoted from HPD.
Almost reverently Williams gripped the badge
in his hands. It was a symbol of everything his career had meant to him. He
looked at McGarrett, knowing they shared common feelings about the past and
what this badge meant to them both.
"Yeah, it's something I want to
keep," Dan admitted quietly. "Mahalo."
He slipped the badge into a back pocket of
his jeans. For a moment he ran his fingers through his hair. "This isn't
as easy as I thought it would be," he said quietly. Then he replaced the
lid to the storage box. "I need to get out."
Williams trotted downstairs and out the back
to the beach. McGarrett followed at a more leisurely pace and sat on the deck
at water's edge. He watched his friend slowly amble along the tide line toward
the park just down the shore. Until these last moments, he had not realized how
slow this recovery was going to be for both of them. Williams had a lot of deep
scars that would take a long time to heal. Unsettled and fatigued, McGarrett
felt they had not yet finished with the trials and strains to their friendship.
*****
Arms filled with grocery sacks, McGarrett
came in the front door of the beach house and dropped a few of the bags on the
table. After Dan's release Steve had stayed here with him for a few days. Once
assured his friend could handle the freedom, and his recovery seemed stable,
Steve returned to work, dropping in most evenings. Typically, another crisis
gripped the state police unit and there had been no time to return for a visit
for several days.
Today McGarrett had left the office before
"Danno?"
McGarrett placed the sacks on the kitchen
counter, moving aside several empty beer cans cluttering the small area. He
noted some empty prescription containers: the plastic splintered and smashed
into shards on the counter. Upset at the evidence of drugs and liquor,
McGarrett picked up a destroyed vial and examined it, noting the pills had been
sedatives. He checked the sink and found some partially dissolved pills in the drain.
"Danno?"
Now concerned, he made a quick search of the
house, then went outside and scanned the beach. The Mustang was parked in front
of the garage, so Danno had not left . . . there, just beyond the nearby trees,
he spotted a lone figure slowly walking toward the house. Williams took a seat
on one of the chairs set up on the boat deck at the water's edge. McGarrett
jogged out to join him.
"Steve!" Williams paused for a few
seconds, visibly trying to collect his thoughts. "Did I forget you were
coming?"
McGarrett clenched his teeth to restrain any
reaction to the absent minded greeting. Williams was a wreck -- probably had
not slept or eaten well in days. Perhaps he should keep a closer eye on his
friend. Maybe Danno was not fit to be on his own, yet. 'Ease up,' he
admonished himself. Danno had been out of the Foundation for just over a week.
This period of adjustment was going to be a bit rough on Williams. On
McGarrett, too.
"No, it's a surprise," McGarrett
reassured. "Friday. I've got the weekend off. I thought we'd take off for
"Sure."
"How are you doing?"
Williams slumped farther into the chair.
"Okay," he said unconvincingly. At the corresponding silence from his
companion, he glanced at McGarrett. The doubt there was obvious. "Really."
Steve took a seat next to his friend.
"What about the pills?"
"Oh, those," Williams frowned.
"They went into the sink."
"So you can handle things without
them?"
Dan shrugged. "Getting hooked on pills is a complication I don't need. Besides," his tone grew bitter, "I can't seem to handle things anyway."
He launched from the seat and went into the
house. McGarrett followed in time to see Williams fling himself onto the couch
and put his feet up on the coffee table, staring out the open glass doors to
the sea beyond.
Steve drew in a breath and steadied his
temper and nerves. Under normal circumstances he would not put up with this
defeatist garbage from anyone, especially Danno. Williams had always had a
capacity for harsh self-criticism and Steve usually did not tolerate the
self-doubt. These were not normal times, however, and he had to add extra
measures of patience and understanding in dealing with his friend.
McGarrett picked up some pro-environmental
pamphlets scattered on the sofa and took a seat. "Want to talk about
it?" The tone was a little stiff but it was the best he could manage. He
felt uncomfortable with this vein of conversation, but perhaps Dan just needed
someone to listen to him.
Williams turned to briefly brush eyes with
Steve, then looked away. "I don't know what to say. I can't put it into
words -- all the frustration and . . . " he trailed off.
"What?"
Williams shook his head.
"Everything." His voice was pathetic and forlorn, as if he was the
only one in the world with an overwhelming problem.
In this case that wasn't true, Steve
thought. Williams was one of two with this overwhelming problem. Steve couldn't
offer any advice on how to cope because he himself had not figured out how to
forget the traumas of brainwashing and torture.
"I can't get past the --
shooting."
There would be no easy or fast way out and
Steve didn't know where to start. He leaned forward, elbows on knees. "It
fades, Danno." Williams gave a brief nod. Unable to accept this depression
any longer, McGarrett blurted out, "For now, you're not to worry about
it."
Surprised out of his doldrums, Dan looked
up. "What do you mean?"
"Don't try to sort it out this minute.
Give it some time, Danno. Ease up on yourself. You're always too tough on
yourself, you know," he gently reminded. After receiving no response he
lightly slapped Dan on the leg. "Come on. Let's get ready. We're sailing
to
"Yeah -- " the message finally
registered. "What?" Dan laughed, astonished. "YOU took the whole
weekend off? Did the
"No, only one criminal catcher,"
McGarrett countered wryly.
"Steve, you don't have to baby-sit me.
You've got a job --"
"To hell with the job for today!"
was McGarrett's stern retort. "Your recovery is more important than
anything I could accomplish at the office."
Embarrassed, Williams shook his head in a
gesture of incredulity. He stared at his friend for a moment. "Thanks for
never giving up on me, Steve. Again -- always. I couldn't get through this
without you."
This time it was McGarrett who was
embarrassed by the praise. He clapped his friend on the shoulder and kept his
hand there for a moment. "We're in this together, my friend. Now, come on,
get packed." He came to his feet, then looked back, still concerned. It
was going to take more than a sail to
"Come on,
*****
McGarrett awoke abruptly, eyes snapping
open, his right hand clutching the revolver under his pillow. He knew he had
been woken suddenly by some noise -- years of experienced instinct told him
that -- his extreme reaction to some unconscious input. Without moving he
assessed the room and felt no foreign 'presence' there. The only thing he could
detect was the constant sound of Kauai surf blown in off the cool night wind
through the open window.
No -- there was an ever-so-faint muffled
sound . . . cry -- moan. Steve bolted upright. Danno. McGarrett instantly
jumped out of bed, flung open his door and burst into Williams' nearby room.
Dan was lying on the floor, entangled in
bedding, wrestling with invisible demons. Barely coherent mutterings included
Steve's name called out several times. Other phrases included an agonized
refusal for some unspecified command. Danno seemed to be reliving the torture
sequence and probably the shooting.
"Damn nightmares," McGarrett
cursed as he knelt down and unwrapped the sheets. "Danno," he called
gently. He laid a steadying hand on his friend's trembling shoulder. Firmly he
shook Williams, touching the tear-streaked face with his other hand as he
continued to call Danno's name.
Desperately, Williams clutched onto
McGarrett's arms, holding on as if to a life-preserver. Dan's eyes blinked open
and stared at his friend with stark fear. Weakly, he drew in several sharp,
shuddered breaths, then fell back against McGarrett.
"It's all right, Danno," he
whispered soothingly, injecting forced calm into his own strained voice.
"It's over. It was only a nightmare."
Williams wiped his hands across his face.
"I don't remember --"
"It's okay, it's over."
Williams sat up and took several more
breaths. He glanced at the travel clock on the beside table.
"A hell of a way to come into
McGarrett tightened his hold on the shoulder
he had never released from his steadying grip. "It's okay. I
understand." Involuntarily, he thought back to his own terrible bout with
nightmares after his ordeal with Wo Fat in
Williams patted McGarrett's arm. "I'm
okay, now. Thanks."
"Sure?" McGarrett did not release
his hold.
"Yeah," Williams whispered.
"But I don't think I can go back to sleep. I'm gonna
go for a swim."
McGarrett was reluctant to leave, to even
let go of his friend. This incident had shaken him. Until this dark moment he
had not realized how tenuous Danno's recovery appeared, how surface-thin was
the veneer of healing from the brainwashing. He shivered -- for the agony
tangibly coursing through his friend -- for the vivid memories of his own
nightmares.
Williams pulled away. Shaky, but determined,
he came to his feet and reiterated his intention to go for a swim and clear his
head. The words strove for optimism while his voice was achingly unsteady.
McGarrett matched the attempt at normalcy
and came to his feet, admitting it was time for an early jog. With forced
cheeriness he promised to fix a healthy breakfast when he returned.
Once cushioned in the solitude of his own
room, McGarrett sat on the bed for a time. Dawn crept into the sky and
lightened the landscape with the brushstrokes of subdued purple light. He heard
the back door slam and glanced out the open window to see Williams dive into
the choppy surf. This was Danno's way of coping with stress, just as McGarrett
used jogging to deal with emotional problems. It provided no answers, but
sometimes it exhausted the body enough to allow the mind time to seek solace
and respite.
A chill raced along his spine -- a delayed
reaction to the frightening morning wake-up. Amazingly he had forgotten these
nightmares were standard residue from torture and brainwashing. He wondered if
he had pushed it from his mind deliberately. Coming face to face with the fear
invoked nasty reflections of his own brainwashing nightmares. It made him ache
all the more for what Danno was going through.
The introspection made him feel very
isolated suddenly. He quickly changed into his jogging clothes. On the way past
Williams' room he grabbed Danno's shoes so his friend could join him on a long
jog along the beach. Steve did not want to be alone right now and he knew
solitude was the worst thing for Williams as well.
*****
"Well, what do you think, Duke?"
McGarrett turned from his observation of the
Palace grounds and glanced at his colleague. Out of nervous habit he snapped
his fingers as he walked. They were standing on the lanai just outside of
McGarrett's office. Late afternoon sun cast long shadows from the pillars
across the white walkway. McGarrett sipped his coffee and glanced back out to
watch the rush-hour traffic (an oxymoron if he ever heard one).
"You mean about Carew
staying on the team?" Lukela shrugged. "So far he's been tough to
handle, but an adequate cop."
"Don't be so enthusiastic, Duke,"
Steve sarcastically countered.
"He's a wild paniolo,
Steve. You'll have to keep him in line."
"Sure, but he's a good cop,"
McGarrett defended of his impulsive offer for Jim Carew
to join Five-0.
Carew had been bounced off of the Boston PD for violently
exceeding the bounds of his job. He came to
An actual physical pain twinged
at his heart. Like a stab wound -- an emotional reminder that this was just
plastic surgery. To McGarrett, the team would never be the same and this was
the best he could do for now. Well, he shouldn't sell his staff short. In time,
they would rise up to a different level of teamwork, of quality, than there had
been in the past.
McGarrett leaned against a pillar and
thought back to the countless moments like this at the end of the day, when the
detectives would come out on the lanai and unwind from a tough case. Hours had
been spent out here, with his friend, in the fresh breeze. Imagining -- No, he
couldn't walk down that mental path. He had to make the best of his future:
Truck,
Steve's optimism now blunted, he walked into
the office and suggested they finish up on the last of the day's paperwork.
There was a lot to catch up on after their miserable week. Another case against
Alika fell through, and investigations were backing
up because the new staff just didn't seem to have the Five-0 work routine down
yet.
". . . the Manoa jewelry heist is being
handled by Kimo and the
Duke Lukela paused from reading his notes
and looked up from the paper at his boss. McGarrett stared out the open lanai
door, leaning back in his chair, a foot pressed against the back wall. Out of
nervous habit, McGarrett's fingers snapped briskly. Duke would bet Steve hadn't
heard a word he said. The distant expression on the chief of Five-0 indicated
thoughts far from the office.
No surprise. There had been so much tension
lately with the new team, then the Alika tug of war.
Always in the back of McGarrett's mind, too, was the problem of Williams.
Danny's transition back into the mainstream
of Hawaiian life had been a challenge for them all. McGarrett's sense of duty
had warred with his desire to spend time with his friend. He had tried to give
each option equal attention. In the end, duty finally won out, but in physical
presence only. When Steve worked at the office his thoughts were not here at
all. It had been particularly hard in the last few weeks since McGarrett had
been wrestling with integrating new detectives into the Five-0 structure. Some
of those officers were not fitting well. In Lukela's
humble opinion, McGarrett was really in need of a vacation. Steve always seemed
to be in need of a vacation, because he hardly ever took one, but desperately
needed to get away now.
"Still no word on the stabbing at the
Sheraton last night," Duke continued. "But I just got a report that
the horse jumped over the moon," he looked back at McGarrett, "and
the Menehune ran away with the spoon." He stopped and placed the report on
the desk. He waited. Nearly a full minute elapsed before McGarrett turned
around to face him.
"That all, Duke?"
"I think so," the Hawaiian
responded meaningfully. He took a seat in one of the white chairs in front of
the desk. "Your mind's not here, Steve."
"I know," he sighed in admission. He
leaned his elbows on the desk, entwined his fingers and hooked his chin on his
hands.
"Take off. I can handle things
here."
A brief smile of affection and appreciation
flashed at Lukela, but it quickly died. "Mahalo, Duke, but you've been
taking up a lot of slack since -- well, lately."
Lukela shrugged easily. "No problem.
I'm keeping track of the favors." Seriously, he said, "There are more
important things to worry about sometimes than the job. I think this is one of
those times, Steve."
"But --"
"Danny needs you," he interrupted
firmly. "You want to be there -- I think you need to be there for him. You
certainly need to get out of the office. When was the last time you saw
Danny?"
"The beginning of the week."
"So what are you doing here?"
The rare expression of indecision rippled
across McGarrett's strong features. The desire to give in to the advice was
tempting. Clearly personal feelings rarely won over years of discipline and
commitment to the job.
Duke hoped that job-preoccupation was all
that was behind the reluctance. Maybe he misread the situation. Perhaps Steve
felt uncomfortable being around Danny. That was a depressing thought. As close
as the two friends were, Duke would hate to see this tragedy slip into a
deeper, even more desperate situation. Danny had been hurt by the events of the
last year. Steve had been emotionally hurt right along with Williams. Both were
victims, although McGarrett, as usual, didn't think of himself as having a
problem. Probably because before, Danny and Five-0 were synonymous, now Steve
had to make a choice. Which one deserved priority status?
Nobody had been the same since this chain of
tragedies began. If they didn't turn this around right away it could become an
irreversible pattern of defeat and depression. That would do more profound
damage than anything they had yet seen.
"You're a wise, good friend,
Duke," McGarrett said quietly. "Your support has been indispensable
during this mess."
"Then let me help with this, Steve.
You're worried about Danny. Go see him."
McGarrett shook his head. "I'm not
doing him a lot of good, Duke. I've been at the office most of the week. When I
talk to him on the phone he's distant. He's never angry, Duke, just in pain. I
don't know how to break through." He sighed deeply and pounded a fist on
the desk. "Sometimes he looks at me -- as if he's trying to pull himself
away. As if he's scared of something -- of me. I don't know how to help
him." With deep frustration he shook his head and launched from the chair
to lean on the door-frame, facing the lanai. "Without Five-0 to bond us
together, maybe I'm afraid we have nothing in common anymore."
"You think Danny is pulling away from
you?"
"Drifting, maybe. He's different since
-- well, of course he would be. How could he ever be the same again?"
"This won't go away overnight,
Steve," was Duke's quiet reply. "But you're not going to give up.
Maybe you just need to spend time with him. You'll keep trying to reach Danny.
If that's what's important to you."
"Danno's recovery is the most important
thing in my life right now," McGarrett shot back.
Lukela almost smiled at the predictable
reaction; Steve instantly defending Danny, instantly supporting the team. The
Five-0 detectives could handle international criminals and plots and mobsters.
It was much more difficult to deal with their own personal trials than to talk
about crime and impersonal danger.
The Five-0 family had always been close.
Even when he was still a patrol sergeant, Lukela affectionately had been drawn
into the fold. Steve and he had worked together for years and had always had a
common bond in their matching ideologies and personalities. They differed in
their level of intensity and in their handling of emotions. Duke found it easy
to be blunt about anything, including his innermost feelings. Maybe being a
husband and father for many years gave him an edge over Steve in that respect.
Steve was blunt, but not about things inside
his heart. Expecting the guys to know how much he loved them and worried over
them, he rarely spoke of those feelings. After Chin's death, Duke thought there
would be a difference. Steve had loosened up some, but never enough to make
personal thoughts easy to say. When something went wrong, particularly with
Danny, Steve would let it eat away inside and suffer silently, but hardly let
on how deeply he hurt. Lukela didn't know why Steve reacted the way he did, but
just accepted it as one of Steve's many idiosyncrasies.
With the new team -- Duke didn't see any
personal connections there. They were co-workers and that's as far as it went.
Steve and he were too emotionally stretched right now to take on any new adoptees into their private world.
He brought his thoughts back to the present.
He had to get Steve out of here or the boss would brood for the whole night.
"Go see Danny, Steve." He
lightened his tone to try and turn Steve's black mood around. "I can't go
home with a good conscience unless I know you'll be okay. And I want to go
home. Now."
A rueful smile was like a fleeting shadow on
McGarrett's face. "Thanks, Duke." He rose and placed his hands on the
Hawaiian's shoulders. "You'll know where to reach me."
*****
Distance -- a word defined in relative
terms. The distance from
The scenario now shifted. His closest friend
now unjustly, controversially expelled from Five-0, caused a divergence in
their paths. The brainwashing/suicide crisis caused it's own unique stress that
Dan could only deal with, to a certain extent, alone. The incarceration in the
Foundation began the rift McGarrett now dreaded. Weeks of dealing with the
crisis in separation forced him to work hard to bridge that gap. Which tumbled
into his newest apprehension -- the looming anxiety their paths would diverge
so far they would no longer find common ground. What would become of their
friendship then? Could their friendship survive beyond Five-0?
When McGarrett arrived at the beach house he
didn't know what he expected. He found the house neat, orderly and -- empty.
Aside from a stack of environmental leaflets on the table, no evidence of an
occupant presented itself. An abrupt stab of panic thrust into his heart. Did
he wait to long? Had Dan left? Double-checking with a glance out the window, he
reaffirmed the Mustang in the drive.
A thump upstairs followed by a muffled curse
eased some of his fears. Anxiously, he trotted up the steps and in the
office/library found Dan with a hammer in one hand and a thumb in his mouth.
"What are you doing?"
"A bad job of putting up shelves,"
Williams responded around the sore digit.
With effort, McGarrett bypassed his
editorial comments and fell back on proper investigative procedure.
"Why?"
"I cleaned the house. Twice everyday
this week. I've been swimming and surfing every day. I'm running out of
constructive things to do. Then this morning I realized you could use some
extra room for your books."
Obsession took many forms, Steve accepted.
Williams, usually a neat person, took that and other traits to extremes when
forced to occupy his time. Steve understood. Anything sounded good to keep the
introspection and memories at bay. New shelves . . . . yes, he had spent too
much time away. And, yes, he would have to organize something for Dan to do
with his time.
"Why don't we discuss renovations over
dinner. What have you got?"
"Steak, chicken. We could barbecue. Or
salmon, rice, nori, yellow tail. We can whip up some
saimin and sushi."
"Sounds great."
An aficionado of good cooking, McGarrett
enjoyed preparing food. Most meals with his second-in-command were in
restaurants, so teaming up on kitchen work became a unique and efficient
experience. Not his usual chatty self yet, Williams had to be drawn out, but
soon their conversations flowed from one interesting point to another. Still
sensitive to his public exodus, Dan rarely talked to anyone or visited his
extended family. Far from a loner, the isolation proved against his nature.
Gradually striking out to public encounters seemed a good sign of recovery.
Asked about the pamphlets on the table, Dan
revealed his spare time gave him a chance to indulge in projects long abandoned
because his job rook up most of his life. The Five-0 staff rarely affiliated
with public support of political or controversial causes because of the risk of
a conflict of interest, and the consistent lack of time. Issues like gun
control or law enforcement were almost part of their job, but more sensitive
policies, like propositions, endorsing candidates or following grass-roots
movements were touchy. Now Dan could spend time furthering the cause of dolphin
and whale protection and conserving endangered Hawaiian wildlife. A calabash --
adopted -- Kulani brother, had dragged Dan to several
ecology rallies, sparking an interest in the overly-cautious ex-detective.
Dusk darkened the house by the time they
finished eating, cleaned -up and both read through the hand-outs. Steve
expressed his own appeal to the same causes and Dan offered ideas how he could
help without risking his status as the head of Five-0. The evening ended all
too quickly, with Dan promising to keep him updated on his activities, and
Steve planning to fix a gourmet meal for the weekend. Driving back to
*****
On the afternoon when Dan read the article
in the paper on the killing of Kevin Wilson, he was frustrated. Wanting to call
Steve and offer some assistance, he knew he couldn't. No longer with Five-0, he
would only get in the way. He could contact some of his old informants . . . .
already on his way toward the beach house before he stopped in his tracks. He
could do nothing. As much as cop killing hurt; as much as he ached for Steve,
Dan had to stay out of the investigation. Sourly, he accepted that this was
just not his business anymore. Angered, he threw down the paper and went around
to the front of the house.
Without thinking where he was going he
jumped into the Mustang and took off north on
*****
Williams drove the Mercury slowly through
the entrance of the Valley of the
The winding road coursing through the
cemetery was a black ribbon threaded through emerald-lush fields. This was a
place which evoked reverence on any occasion, but when the reason for coming
was the funeral of a cop, the mood was especially somber. He had not known
Kevin Wilson very well and knew the wife, Lori, even less. He was here to
support Steve.
Three days before, the newest member of
Five-0,
The day was bright, sunny, and rather hot
for October; cooled by windward mists which blew dampness across the open space
of the plot-filled hills. As McGarrett and Williams made their way to the
gravesite, Dan reflected what a beautiful day it was. The last time he had been
here, for Chin's funeral, it had been dark with low storm clouds.
Involuntarily, Williams glanced up the hill toward the section nestled close to
where the verdant valley of the vast cemetery met the towering, eroded pali of
the Koolau mountains. When he turned back he noted Steve's gaze had drifted in
that direction as well. For a moment McGarrett brushed eye contact with him and
offered a brief nod to express that everything was okay. The reassurance was
reflected in McGarrett's eyes.
Duke joined them and offered a subdued
greeting. McGarrett moved to stand closer to Lori and Williams stepped back to
an inconspicuous spot behind some HPD officers. The brief service was conducted
by a local minister and was simple and short. After the prayer an officer
played taps on a single trumpet.
For a few moments the former second in
command mingled quietly with other officers while the head of Five-0 escorted
Officer Wilson to the mortuary limousine. Williams gravitated toward Duke, who was
talking to a plainclothes officer. Dan didn't know the sharp-featured, whipcord
man, but guessed he was the other new detective, Carew.
"Have you met Jim Carew,
yet?" Lukela asked.
"No, I haven't, but I've heard a lot
about you, Mr. Carew."
Williams made sure to keep his voice and
expression neutral. He had heard about Carew's
blundering arrival to
"I've heard a lot about you, Mr.
Williams." There was a sneering emphasis on the word 'mister'.
"Don't believe everything you
hear," Williams warned flippantly.
The return threat came boldly, not concealed
in any way. "I know when something's genuine. Or worthwhile."
Dan felt like squirming; from the direct and
antagonistic stare of Carew, from the awkwardness
interjected into the introduction. Suddenly, Williams realized he was being
baited. Carew wanted to put Williams at a
disadvantage -- possibly even invoke a confrontation. Why? What had he done to Carew?
"Danno!"
McGarrett's curt summons from a few feet away served to distract
and diffuse the intense Carew. Dan bid hasty alohas
to the detectives and joined McGarrett
'Saved by the bell,' was Dan's wry thought. He didn't know why Carew had an ax to grind with him. He was confused and
surprised by the hostility, but did not let the reaction bother him. Something
to ponder later. For Steve's sake, he would never make a scene. Besides, he
would probably never meet the new man on the team again. Williams had put
Five-0 behind him and had vowed, for his personal peace of mind, not to return
to the Palace or other well known haunts. He could meet with Steve or Duke at
other locals, but never at the familiar citadel of the state police. The office
held too many memories and he was not sure how he would react if he went back
there as an outcast, an interloper. Perhaps that was how Carew
viewed him and resented his presence at the funeral. Very small minded of the
guy, Dan thought, but everyone had their own reactions to this blending of old
and new. If Dan didn't have Steve in his corner, he would probably feel a lot
more resentment and bitterness too. Although what Carew
had to be upset about, Dan couldn't fathom.
When McGarrett and Williams reached the
Mercury, an unsettled Steve paused at the door. "Let's go up the hill for
a minute," he said over the roof of the car.
With a nod of understanding, Williams
agreed. The short drive was traversed in silence. When they reached the
appropriate section they walked to the dark tombstone marking the grave of Chin
Ho Kelly. They stood mutely as they studied the grass-covered plot. Each man
was wrapped in his own thoughts and memories of detectives and funerals past;
of mortality and time, of death and life and regret and hope.
"This is the first time I've been back,"
Williams said quietly. "Somehow I never seemed to have the time to
visit."
McGarrett nodded. He looked up and scanned
the lush, emerald fluted mountains looming over the cemetery. "Funerals
always force you to reflect," he commented cryptically.
Williams glanced sharply at his friend.
There was something eating at Steve; more than
Finally, McGarrett turned back to the car
without comment and without looking back at the grave. For a moment, Williams
did look back, then he too walked away.
*****
Carew and Lukela watched the two
distant figures farther up the hillside.
"What's McGarrett doing?" Carew asked.
"Visiting another policeman's
grave," was Duke's subdued response. He had been back to that site several
times. He had made his peace, yet knew Williams, and especially McGarrett, had
more ghosts to lay to rest. It was a long process, but it looked like progress
was being made.
"So what's Williams doing here?"
The abrasive tone instantly caused Duke to
snap back, "He came out of respect." He turned a level, chill glare
at the new detective; a silent warning to back off.
"He hardly knew
"Neither did you," Lukela replied
sharply.
"I'M on the team. Williams
isn't. Williams showing up here is like a slap in the face to every good, brave
cop."
Lukela bristled and closed the gap between Carew and himself. "What's that supposed to
mean?"
"He's a wash-out -- a coward. He even
botched his own suicide --"
"Shut up, Carew!"
Duke ordered.
"He has no business here," Carew maintained. "What's he doing with Steve,
anyway?"
Lukela barely held onto his boiling temper.
Obviously, Carew had missed the subtleties of the
relationships of Danny Williams and the officers at the funeral. Danny didn't
need a badge to be considered a member of the cop fraternity. To those who had
served with Williams, the distinction of retirement, for whatever reason, was a
thin line. Dan would always be one of them. He always had been and always would
be one of the best liked officers ever in the ranks of HPD or Five-0. What had
really gone over Carew's head was the still strong
bond existing between McGarrett and Williams. Danny had come here today out of
respect and support for McGarrett, not for Kevin or Lori.
"If he was such a hot cop he should
know better than to interfere."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Almost itching for a fight, Carew came right up into Lukela's
face, eager for a confrontation. "He's a coward!
"He's here to help out Steve."
"Elbowing his way back into Steve's
good graces, you mean. What's he trying to do? Now that Kevin's dead, get his
old job back even though he can't cut it?" The tone was pure acid.
Unable to control his temper any longer,
Lukela growled, "Look, bruddah, I don't know what your problem is, but you
better get rid of it or stay out of my path."
"Open your eyes, Duke. I'm not the only
one who resents a coward showing up here."
"Well, you're the only one dumb enough
to shoot off his mouth," Lukela snapped back. "Danny was a better cop
than almost every man here. It's none of your business why he left Five-0. You
keep off of his back or you'll have me on yours! You got that?"
Carew took a few steps away. "Sure," he said,
but the cold resentment in his tone and demeanor indicated his viewpoint had
not changed. He turned and walked to a company sedan parked at the curb.
"He better settle down," was
Duke's doubtful, muttered comment to himself. Silently, he thought, 'If he
ever spouts off about Danny to Steve, it'll be Carew's
last insult around here.'
Lukela found himself hoping to see that
confrontation, although McGarrett did not need the added stress of Carew's sour attitude. Steve deserved better than Carew, Lukela reasoned, but he
wasn't sure Steve knew that. After Dan had left, little effort or thought had
gone into replacing the regular detective staff of Five-0. Steve seemed to have
lost interest in the day to day workings of the unit, making a valiant effort
to rebuild the team, but his heart was clearly not in the work anymore.
Unfortunately, with Carew, the hasty decision showed.
Duke was not going to be the one to rock the boat, however. A few more months
and he would retire. In that time he would give McGarrett his best energies and
hope that Steve could get along without any of the old guard after that.
*****
After the funeral, Williams rusticated at
the house for a few days -- swimming, surfing, pacing the beach, disturbed and
frustrated over his sense of limbo. He was of no practical value to Steve, or
anyone else, and the meaninglessness of his existence ate at his conscience.
Once figuring he could survive as a beach bum indefinitely -- this crisis underscored
how boring his idle life had become. Surfing, swimming and hanging out with the
Kulanis could last only so long. An instinct deep
within his soul; born of friendship and innate caring for McGarrett, created a
profound need for him to do something -- anything -- to help Steve. What could
he do? He was completely useless as a cop, as a friend.
Hours of self-analysis sorted the
difficulties between his inability to help on a logical level (he was no longer
with the official police force and therefore could not act in any official
capacity), and his common sense which wondered why he needed any official
sanction anyway? Somewhere in between the two poles was the recognition that if
he got involved with investigating the Wilson murder, it could cause a lot of
conflict of interest for himself, his old friends at HPD and Five-0, and
ultimately, mostly, for McGarrett. Could Dan risk bringing more bad publicity
to Five-0? Could he sit back and do nothing when his friends were hurting?
Once he had thought through all the options,
there remained only the initial, important consideration he had started out
with: how could he help Steve?
Without wasting anymore time analyzing the
pros and cons, Williams grabbed his car keys and took off.
When Dan hit the streets of
A short, slump-shouldered young Chinese man
with stringy, dark hair ambled out of the doorway of a Chinese herb market.
Williams increased his stride and laid a firm hand on the man's shoulder.
"Maki."
The man glanced over his shoulder. It took
several seconds for recognition to filter into realization. His face froze with
apprehension.
"Williams." He stared in amazement
at Dan's whitened hair. "Man, what happened to you?"
Dan steered the man over to the wall.
"I need some names, Maki."
The young Oriental shook his head. Slowly
the anxiety was replaced with confidence, then cocky bluster.
"Hey, you ain't
with the cops no more, Williams. I don't have to --"
Dan took hold of the man's shirt and slammed
him into the wall. "That's right, Maki. No more rules, no more legalities.
Just you and me. You want to see who's tougher?"
With deliberate care, the man negatively
shook his head. The fear was returning.
"Just because I don't carry a badge
anymore, doesn't mean I'm out of your life. I need to know who hit
"I don't --"
Maki was slammed against the wall once more.
"No negative input here, bruddah. Meet
me tomorrow at
For the first time, Maki relaxed. He reclaimed
possession of his shirt and stood away from the wall. Several steps away from
Dan.
"Sure, Williams."
Dan pressed a finger in the center of the
informant's chest and applied pressure until the man winced. "If you don't
bring the names, Maki, you'll be sorry."
With a short nod the informant indicated he
understood the message. As quickly as possible he slipped past Williams and
scurried down the street.
Williams walked the half block back to his
Mustang and slipped into the driver's seat. Then he collapsed against the
steering wheel, relieved the drill was over. He had not really believed he had
it in him to muscle the little runt. The need to help Steve had been the
impetus to ignore the foolhardy venture, to ignore the illegalities, and use
desperate measures. Relieved the bluff worked, he rubbed at the stress headache
throbbing at the side of his head. Beyond the initial success of the ploy;
beyond the relief he had not been jumped in the alley by Maki and friends, was
the realization that deep inside him, Dan Williams the cop still existed.
*****
Much the same as the last time he had seen
it, years before, Fisherman's Wharf in
"Napoleon, Illya." Steve shook
their hands. "This must be important."
"Too important to discuss on phone
lines," Solo quietly assured as he steered McGarrett toward the piers.
"And too risky for telex machines,"
Kuryakin furtively added. "We must converse where no listening devices can
hear. And no eyes can pry." He gestured to the ocean, to the people
thronging the tourist mecca along the wharf.
"Our request for your travel is justified, I assure you."
Solo had been a fellow Naval Intelligence
officer in
"I'm sure it is urgent, otherwise you would
have come to me."
"We've been watching you for an
hour," Kuryakin informed. "You are not under surveillance."
"Why should I be? There's nothing
suspicious about coming to
Napoleon shook his head. "You are very
high profile now, my friend. In certain nefarious circles you are well known,
just as Illya and I are infamous. We can't be seen together for too long. Not
this time. We'll save that for our next trip to your fair paradise. How's
Danny?"
"Slowly improving."
Solo nodded sympathetically. "Takes
time, Steve."
Kuryakin flinched. "Brainwashing is
never a pleasant recreation."
Without a word, Steve knew empathetic
memories knitted them all together now in a brotherhood not of their choosing.
First hand, the four of them shared the anguish and terror intimately known to
veterans of torture and captivity.
They walked down one of the docks, drifting
away from the crowds. Rarely called upon to practice the clandestine moves of a
covert agent, McGarrett found himself leery of everything and everyone. Mostly,
he grew concerned about the reason he had been so urgently summoned to the
mainland.
"What have you discovered?"
"You asked us to track someone for
you."
"Jin Wu?" Steve asked, holding his
breath.
"Wo Fat," Solo countered.
"Three years ago after his coup failed with the toxins he stole from
Inside, Steve's heart felt like it had been
hit by a blow. What he suspected was true and the discovery left him cold. No
mental preparation worked when dealing with Wo Fat. "He's alive?"
"And actively at work. He is still top
dragon in the Nine Dragon Triad, Steve," Napoleon related with regret.
"They say Nine Dragons has great influence here."
"Wo Fat is here?"
Kuryakin tightly shook his head. "No,
Hong Kong. But there are rumors a traitor in his family is trying to usurp Nine
Dragon authority here in
"Jin Wu?"
"Exactly," Solo smiled tightly.
McGarrett felt ill. Father and daughter --
was it possible to be rid of either one? "I killed her."
"But the body disappeared," Illya
reminded with a foreboding tone to his voice. "One of Wo Fat's children,
or someone close to him, is here threatening his power structure."
"She comes here every afternoon to
lunch at the Golden Dragon." Solo gestured with a nod to a nearby Chinese
restaurant with huge, curved windows fronting the bay. "That's her
favorite table, the one at the corner."
"You've met her," Illya supplied.
"We'd like you to make an identification."
Suspicious, he studied the spies. "Why?
Obviously you're not going to arrest her."
Kuryakin shrugged. "We have no
authority and no reason to do any such thing."
"She brainwashed Danno -- "
"Steve," Napoleon interrupted
harshly, "She's a spy working on three sides. A triple agent. No one wants
her dead because they don't know how much her absence will damage their little
spy games. Do you think anyone would care that she toyed with your friend's
brains? She's beyond your justice, Steve."
"But not yours," he snapped back.
"Why are you doing this? Not because of Danno. What's the game, Napoleon?
Walking close enough to McGarrett to rub
shoulders, Solo shrugged and quietly responded, "Wo Fat's daughter gave us
some grief last month. We never saw her, but we tracked her down. Before we
exact retribution, we want to see if she's the same one causing you
problems."
"What will you do with her?"
"You don't want to know," Kuryakin
assured.
From their intent, deadly expressions,
McGarrett knew some things were better left unknown. Could he send this spy to
her death? He knew Napoleon well enough to know the former UNCLE agent was too
resolute to want anything less than fatal retribution. Remembering her control
of Dan, her commands as she ordered him to kill, as he turned the gun to his
head -- Yes, he could easily, happily, send her to her justified end at the
hands of other spies.
Napoleon nudged him and Steve looked up to
the restaurant. A short, lean woman with black, short-styled hair sat at the
table in the corner by the window. The build was similar, the features similar,
but not the same. The woman was not Jin Wu. With relief, Steve told them, with
certainty, this was not the woman who captured Danno.
"Are you sure?" Napoleon pressed.
"Plastic surgery could have -- "
"No," Steve assured him. "The
bearing is all wrong. I'll never forget her arrogance, the way she moved. And
the facial structure is off, not just the looks."
Disappointed, the three walked back toward
the street. Napoleon apologized for the fool's errand. McGarrett reassured it
would have been worth it had the woman been their target. Willing to do almost
anything to know if she still lived, he asked them to continue their search in
his behalf.
"So, she's not Jin Wu, but you're
convinced she's your target?"
The two agents exchanged veiled glances.
"Yes," Napoleon slowly
acknowledged. "She's one of Wo Fat's relations, and we have some
unfinished business with her."
"Then Jin Wu is dead," Steve
hopefully concluded.
"An old gypsy saying," Illya
commented, "reminds us to never plan the funeral until we have the
body."
Napoleon shook his head, an amused grin
playing at his mouth. "Your cryptic gypsies have a saying for everything,
Illya, but that's one of the better ones." To the Five-0 detective, he
offered, "We'll find out about Jin Wu for you."
Knowing better than to ask too many
questions, McGarrett accepted the reassurance.
At the back of his mind, he wondered if he
had turned into something as revolting as Webb -- an obsessed machine seeking
his own ends by whatever means necessary. Condoning Solo's and Kuryakin's
actions might put him in the same category of ruthlessness, but he didn't
believe he had crossed over to their merciless level, to Webb's soul-less
tactics.
At the curb, Napoleon called a taxi. With a
handshake he dismissed, "Wish we had time to visit, Steve, but we'll keep
in touch."
"Next time in
Looking back through the cab window, his
friends already faded into the crowd. Pondering the perplexities of the
mysterious meeting, he wondered if Jin Wu still lived. Her father had nine
lives, he hoped she had used up her one the last time they met in
*****
Because of the intense workload of Five-0 --
orienting new staff,
The disgusting ordeal with the Alika smear campaign against Five-0 -- against McGarrett
personally -- had really hampered the police unit. It had not only threatened
the reputation of Five-0 and McGarrett, it stunted the efficiency of the police
force by making them a laughing stock. As a result, the Governor had brought in
an independent investigator -- an internal affairs officer from HPD. The
officer had challenged McGarrett's authority and subjected the new detectives
to unfair scrutiny. It would take a long time and a lot of successful cases to
wipe the mud off their badges. Even so, McGarrett wasn't sure the unit,
himself, or HPD would ever shine again in the public eye. On a more personal
level, he didn't think he could ever trust Governor Jameson again. After the
mess with Danno, then usurping McGarrett's authority on this last case, he was
leery of Jameson's motives. [episode - GOOD HELP IS
HARD TO FIND]
Looking forward to his trip out of the city
and away from the hectic muddle of fitting new detectives into the unit, he was
doubly anxious to see his friend and refocus on Danno's recovery. About to
leave the office, he stopped as a telex message rolled off the machine. As he
read the words he slumped into the nearest chair, overcome with relief, mingled
with an old, familiar anger.
TO: STEVE MC GARRETT
FROM: SOLO
NO PROOF SHE DRAGON TURNED TO DUST.
WE BELIEVE SO.
OLD DRAGON STILL USING SHARP NINE TALONS.
Jin Wu, the dragon, supposedly dead. A
tremendous relief. No more hauntings from her. But
the old dragon, Wo Fat, was really alive. Well, he knew that three years ago in
As he cruised down the drive toward
The thoughts disturbed him. Couldn't he
handle both Five-0 and his friend? As long as he held the office he was
obligated to give his best to the job -- he always had. Yet, he promised
himself to never again let his friendships suffer because of work. Now both
demands vied for his attention. Which would he choose?
As he waited at the front drive of the
Palace he was paged on the radio. Tiredly, he reluctantly answered the call
from Sergeant Paul Nakamura.
"Sorry to disturb you so late, Mister
McGarrett, but I didn't know who else to call."
"What is it, sergeant?"
"I'm up here just past Mokuleia, before the road ends. Danny just drove his car
into a ditch --"
"Is he all right?" McGarrett felt his
whole body go cold as he awaited the response.
"He's banged up some, but nothing too
bad. He won't let me call an ambulance or take him to a hospital, so I thought
I'd better call -- "
"I'll be there as soon as I can. Are
you sure he's okay?" Already McGarrett wheeled the Mercury onto
"He's not hurt seriously,"
Nakamura responded tentatively. "I just think it's a good idea if -- if
you get up here to handle this."
Making new records for low altitude flying
up the center of
"Where's Danno?" he asked
Nakamura, who came from somewhere on the other side of the Mustang.
"Sitting on the curb by his car,"
the officer returned. About to charge on, Steve was stopped by the officer.
"He's doing okay, Mr. McGarrett. The reason I called you is -- well --
he's been drinking. He didn't want it reported."
McGarrett's first instinct was to deny the
absurd charge. In the next second he knew if the officer on the scene gave such
a report it must be true. The patrolman could be trusted, he'd worked with
Five-0 before. There was no reason to doubt the man. Bitter disappointment and
confusion added to his anxiety for Williams.
"Are you arresting him?"
Nakamura was surprised. "No, sir!"
Harshly, McGarrett reminded the man there
would be no special treatment for cops -- or former cops. Nakamura covered
himself by stating Williams would probably not qualify for legally drunk.
Admitting to drinking a few beers, and in a single-car accident, Nakamura
didn't want to make it an official report. The compassion in the tone was
evident and McGarrett wasn't sure if he should censure the officer or thank
him.
"After all Danny's been through,"
Paul explained, "I couldn't book him."
Was the pity from the embarrassing accident?
More likely from the rumors circulating the back rooms of HPD concerning
Williams' resignation from Five-0. McGarrett never personally heard any
specific comments (HPD personnel KNEW better than to let that happen!), but it
was impossible to not be aware of the rumors. Some pitied Williams, some were
confused by the vague reports of a suicide attempt, some denied a stalwart like
Dan would ever quit, or ever attempt to kill himself, yet could not explain the
abrupt exit from Five-0. A few pressed for a closer investigation and found
their inquiries leading back to the cover story that Williams could no longer
handle the stress of police work. Considering the high rate of suicide in
police ranks, the incident seemed reasonable. Some detractors blamed McGarrett.
Many (Five-0, McGarrett, and staff, had their share of enemies) were glad to
see such a high profile policeman fall -- the price of arrogance and Five-0
pride. Whatever Nakamura's opinion, he was trying to protect Danno and it
earned him bonus points in Steve's eyes.
"Besides," Paul finished,
"Danny feels really rotten about this mess."
"He better," McGarrett warned.
Rounding the car, much of Steve's wrath
dissipated back to concern. Williams, head in hands, sat on the curb, leaning
against the convertible. While he seemed scraped and held a cloth to his face,
no serious injuries were obvious. One of Steve's first, inconsequential
thoughts, was that Dan had just barely recovered from the bullet scaring, now
he had more scrapes. Vacillating between irritation and worry, anger finally
won out.
"What the hell did you think you were
doing?" he barked as he came up next to his friend.
Williams' head snapped up. Stiffly coming to
his feet he swayed slightly and caught himself on the car.
Steve grabbed onto his arm, instantly
contrite. "How bad are you hurt?"
"I'm okay, really, Steve." He
turned away, violently pounding the side of the car with his fist. "I came
out for a spin around the island -- blow off some steam! I asked Paul not to
call you!"
Instinctively reacting to the anger, Steve
snapped back, "He was doing his job! You're lucky he didn't arrest
you!"
"Lucky, yeah, that's me!" Dan
shouted back. "The luckiest guy in the world!"
A tow truck arrived and Williams moved away,
McGarrett following down the road. Stopping some distance away, Williams
watched the convertible hauled out of the ditch. McGarrett watched Williams.
Polo shirt torn and muddy, scrapes and abrasions along his arms and face,
Williams must have been thrown from the car into the soft, damp earth.
McGarrett took a breath and started again in
a forced-calm tone, but composed nonetheless. "I want you to go to a
doctor."
"I'm okay!" Dan shouted.
"Forget it!"
Another deep breath. "We can't, Danno.
I need to know what happened. This is not like you." The mellow words came
out more as accusations than concerns, but it was a start. "What's
happening? What's wrong? I need to know before I can help you."
"I had a few beers and took that last
curve too fast!" Dan flung back. Stalking back toward the car, he kicked
one of the tires. "I needed some space! I needed to escape!" In
emphasis he slammed a fist into the side of the car. Hissing in pain he cradled
his hand. "Damn!" He returned to a few violent kicks to the tires --
feet were much better to use than fists when pummeling inanimate objects.
The all-too-familiar action brought sober
realization into McGarrett's attitude. Too many parallels in their lives,
sometimes. He had been waiting for the anger, the pent up hurt and frustration
to crack open the surface of Danno's controlled temperament. Relieved the
eruption finally occurred, it was a little more dangerous and threatening than
Steve wanted. Knowing his friend well, he wondered what set off the explosion.
Understanding lent the compassion necessary
to bridge the gap. Steering them away from the car, Steve sat on an old stone
wall of a bridge, Williams joining him. Now that his volcanic temper subsided,
he filtered past his feelings of impatience and focused on Dan. On the
defensive, consumed with guilt, anger and self-condemnation, Williams was now
prepared to talk.
Gently he checked-out Williams' hand.
"Nothing's broken, thankfully. Feel better?"
Ruefully, Williams nodded and offered a
grin. "Yeah."
Nakamura brought over personal items from
the Mustang. A ball cap, beach gear, strips of ripped newspaper, Steve noted.
Glancing curiously at the shredded print, McGarrett recognized the lead article
in the Star-Bulletin, the one slamming Five-0. The recent, ugly dock worker's
confrontation, the tragic murder of Kevin Wilson, Alika's
most recent grievances. It didn't take a Sherlock to figure this was the fuse
to set off one very sensitive former Five-0 detective. As he studied Dan, he
met knowing eyes clearly expressing anger at the obvious trail of evidence.
"I always hated the attacks from the
press. Now," embarrassed, he shook his head and looked away. "I can't
take the pressure anymore. The helplessness. I wanted to help with the
"So did I," McGarrett wryly
agreed.
"At least you can fight back, do your
job --" Abruptly closing his mouth, he took a breath. "This is my
fault."
“How could it be --“
“Mark Maynard. You heard his slams against you on the
evening news.”
Steve’s lip rippled in disgust. Mark Maynard was a crime reporter for the TV
station KLB. The reporter, the year
before, had discovered confidential information on the Jerrico
kidnapping case and leaked it on the news.
The victim had died and McGarrett went on a personal campaign to get
Maynard removed from the media corps of
Maynard had delivered a great deal of nasty
and vicious speculation about Williams when Danno had abruptly resigned. Then when Alika’s
discrediting efforts hit, Maynard had flung out one of his most wounding
editorials.
Saying of McGarrett: “Because he is a man of such personal vanity, good men have been
resigning in disgust to have been replaced by incompetent sycophants.”
Williams was studying him closely. “He was talking about me. Making it sound like I resigned because I
hated you --“
“Danno, anyone who matters knows the
truth. About Maynard and about --“ He was about to say about Dan’s
resignation. That was not right. No one knew the truth but a handful of
men.
“They don’t know the truth,” Dan opposed sharply. “I can live with them thinking I’m a washed
up mental case, that I gave up because I couldn't cut it. That there was
a break-down or even incompetence! But this is too much. I have to set the record straight --“
The mere thought of spilling the facts behind the brainwashing and resignation were appalling to McGarrett. Never far from his mind were the threats Webb leveled against them. The nasty spy had the power to really destroy their lives with invisible, threats that could come out of no where and make this horrible situation even worse. He would never allow that to happen.
“No you are not!”
Defiantly, Dan stared at him for long
moments, both sharing the anger, resentment and bitter regret at the wrongs
committed against them. Helplessly mired
in the disgust that they could not change the past and had little control of
the future at this point.
Unwilling to dwell on the morose
frustration, McGarrett pushed them to do something about the present.
"Come on," Steve invited, taking his friend's arm and heading toward
the Mercury. "Let's get back to town. We need to take care of those
scrapes, then you can explain everything." As per usual, it was a
McGarrett order not a suggestion.
"I wasn't drunk, Steve."
"I know."
On the cruise back toward Aina Haina, Steve valiantly kept
the car at a sane speed. Emotions running high, concentrating on his companion,
he drove automatically toward the city, knowing this was a key point in Dan's
recovery. A pivotal counsel session he did not want to botch.
"I had to get out, Steve," came
Dan's first quiet, miserable words. "I'm so angry and frustrated that I
can't help you! If I was back on the force -- " Abruptly he stopped,
looking out the window at the pineapple fields. "I had a few beers,"
he started again, "and did what I always do and opened up the
Mustang."
"This is not the answer, Danno."
"I know."
The tone alone exposed the old truth that
McGarrett's condemnation was worse to Dan than the accident, the injuries, the
embarrassment, even the original anger at his helplessness. Salvaging something
of his old pluck, he continued the confession.
"It was stupid. I'm sorry, Steve. If
this gets out -- Damn! What an idiot I am! I was so upset about not helping you
and I've made it worse. The last thing you need is more mud thrown at Five-0.
And I've given the media new ammo!"
"Whoa," Steve edged in forcefully.
"You know I don't give a damn about the press! They can't hurt me. You're
the vulnerable one here, Danno. Five-0 can take care of Alika
and the press. You need to take care of you right now."
"Maybe that's the problem -- the heart
of all this, Steve. I can't make the separation, can I? I can't accept it! I
can't be there for you!" He slammed his fist into the dash and groaned.
"OWW! Damn! I need to stop doing that."
With one hand he patted his friend's
shoulder. With the other he gripped the steering wheel in a death grasp,
sympathetically sharing all of Dan's rage and impotence. Accepting what they
could not change this time was the hardest part of this new, disheartening
reality forced upon them. Getting through it became a daily challenge.
Sometimes there were no answers, only the hostility. Sometime after that came
the slow process of healing.
Reconstructive silence served the remainder of
the drive as they traveled toward the waning sunset. When they pulled up at the
beach house McGarrett shut off the engine and lights. The house was dark, the
surf a soft, resonating peace to their tumultuous senses.
"Feel better?"
Dan surrendered a subdued grin. "Except
for the hand." He released a long sigh. "We really can't go home
again, can we?"
"No," McGarrett croaked past the
tight emotion in his throat. One of life's hardest lessons. No going back. No
magic solutions. "I keep thinking how we could have handled Alika so much better with you there. Or the other
half-dozen cases we've had recently." Just the idea of going in to the
office, now, seemed more like drudgery than anything else. Losing Dan from
Five-0 was a blow he felt every day. Danno, on the other hand, lost his career,
his future, his way of life. Forcing himself to speak what they both regretted,
he voiced, "We have to accept things as they are, not how we want them to
be, aikane."
Dan nodded, exiting the car without a word.
Visually tracking him to the ocean where he sat down on the sand, Steve
questioned his next move. Only one course now. As difficult as it was, they had
to put this to rest tonight. No going back. No more false expectations and
wishes hanging over their heads. Following his friend to the surf, he sat in
the sand.
"Some days I feel like I've got
everything under control, Steve. Then I think of her. "I'm still haunted
by her face, her voice. You'll want to throw me in a padded cell when I tell
you there are times I turn around expecting to see her there." The tone
was a course, grating whisper. "Sometimes I -- I think I see
her."
"For a change I have some good news.
You don't have to worry about Jin Wu anymore, Danno. She's dead."
Williams stared at McGarrett. "You
didn't tell me you knew for sure."
"Napoleon confirmed it for me today.
She's dead."
"Positive?"
McGarrett shrugged. "Well, Napoleon
said there was no body -- no positive proof -- but he thinks -- he's pretty
sure she's dead. Wo Fat is still alive, still leading the Nine Dragons, but Jin
Wu is dead."
Breathing a deep sigh, Dan nodded his head,
silently showing the tremendous relief from the statement.
"And about everything else, I'll help
you any way I can, Danno, you know that."
"Yeah," he nodded, his voice thick
and hoarse. "It's the only thing that keeps me from going off the deep
end, Steve. And I promise you I'll make this work. Somehow." A vow more to
himself than his companion. "I've got to."
"I know, Danno, and I promise I'll be
there for you." He patted his friend's shoulder in reassurance.
Clearing his throat, Dan related, with a
measure of confidence, his plight was not hopeless. Nervously he rubbed at his
right temple, massaging away a headache, a persistent, residual token from the
shooting. He knew he still had what it took to earn a living. Inside his soul,
some elemental piece of himself had not died when he had pulled the trigger of
his own revolver pressed against his head, when he had been bounced out of
Five-0 for political expediency. Dan Williams still lived and breathed and was
about to return to the human race.
Before Williams had made progress on his
personal attempt of solving the
Gnashing his teeth and keeping silent,
McGarrett accepted the disheartening realities Williams outlined. Danno's life
had to be outside of Five-0 -- they had known that for months. Saying it and
accepting that reality were two different things. If Danno now truly accepted
it and could move on to progress with his life, then Steve had to accept it,
too. Even if it was one of the most disappointing moments of his life.
*****
McGarrett paced down the sand a short ways,
turned, glanced at his watch and walked back toward his beach house. Since
Williams' return yesterday from Christmas on the mainland with Aunt Clara,
Steve had not seen his friend. McGarrett could not get away from the current
caseload, Clara's broken leg was not mending well and she could not travel, so
Dan went east for the holidays. Checking on his friend several times over the
holidays, the visit seemed good for both nephew and aunt, and eased some
worries for the over-protective McGarrett.
Steve glanced at his watch again when he
reached the back door. For several years now he had owned the comfortable
two-story cottage. Originally renting it from Doc Bergman for awhile, then he
finally purchased the house; a small guest cottage, garage and a large parcel
of land in Aina Haina. The
spare house was kept empty for Bergman, who requested occasional occupation
when on
Until Dan's shooting, it had not penetrated
that McGarrett had a lot of opportunities for enjoyment outside Five-0 if he
would only give himself the chance to find them. Since 1959, he had been
devoted -- consumed -- with his career. Girlfriends, friends, hobbies, had all
taken distant second places to his job. He had lived and breathed Five-0 with
almost single-minded determination.
In that space of over two decades he had
lost a few detectives, a number of personal friends, several women, and almost,
finally, the closest friend he had ever had. Chin's death had jolted him into
some awareness of the way he had closed himself off from life. He compensated
with more free time with women companions, with his detectives. Earlier in the
year he over-compensated when Tom Riordan's son died from drugs. Steve
obsessively investigated, almost ruining the career of an innocent doctor in an
over-zealous attempt to help a friend. It wasn't until Dan had shot himself that
McGarrett had realized, too late, that there was more of a direction to his
days than just work. There had to be, because Five-0 could no longer fulfill
his purpose in life.
He had started to comprehend the concept
somewhat after Chin had been killed. McGarrett had consciously loosened up;
spent more time with Dan and Duke, tried to establish a steady relationship
with Nicole Wylie, then Agnes DuBois, tried to relax
and enjoy the things the islands had to offer. It had been a half-hearted
effort because McGarrett had not given the new attitude enough commitment.
After this jarring set of events with Danno,
he had straightened out his priorities. McGarrett finally understood how much
he NEEDED Danno. He promised himself to never again let his friendship suffer
for any reason.
This was a second chance at working things
out. It did not matter what had happened in the past: Five-0, Wo Fat, Jin Wu,
politics, were all mud in the water to obscure the central issue, which was and
always would be, their friendship. They had forged it around the job, yes, but
that was only the beginning step. They did not need Five-0 to be the structure
of their future. They had always expected it, yes. When that opportunity
collapsed, they -- Steve -- should have realized they no longer needed that
skeletal support. He truly believed they had been through too much, formed too
solid a bond, to let it collapse from external forces. Their relationship stood
on it's own merit and own strength. They could build a new future without
Five-0.
He looked up at the sound of a car pulling
up the curved driveway. The convertible Mustang had just returned from the shop
yesterday and Williams had spent this whole morning test driving.
Involuntarily, Steve grinned. Dan gave the impression he had acclimated back
into the culture without a ripple.
Dan jumped over the car door, waved and
trotted down to the beach to meet McGarrett. "Sorry I'm late, Steve.
Running on Hawaiian time. I was at the King Kam club renewing my membership. I
ran into some red tape -- I didn't ruin lunch, did I?"
McGarrett was unable to restrain his laugh.
Danno was like a kid late for curfew -- filled with valid excuses and too
enthusiastic to notice any concern on the part of the parent. He was almost
buoyant with energy.
As they walked back to the house McGarrett
assured, "Nah, you're lucky this time. All raw fish."
"Great," Dan said. "It's been
too long since I've had sushi. When I eat alone I don't have the patience to
fix it. Anyway, the club," he explained as they set the table. "I let
my old membership lapse and I don't have current employment or residence -- I'm
not even renting from you so this doesn't count," he gestured vaguely at
the house. "Luckily I'm on the good side of the chairman of the board of
directors, Higgins, remember him? He vouched for me. Rick would have too, of
course, but it's nice to have friends in high places."
McGarrett smiled. It was absurd, but it felt
good to have such normal, ridiculous problems. It felt wonderful to hear Danno
chatter about mundane matters so far removed from murders, crime and spies. The
beach house had an open lanai which led into a living room and breakfast area
from a huge, glass sliding door. Once the food was set on the table they sat
facing the ocean and eagerly consuming the lunch.
Dan pulled a copy of the classifieds out of
his pocket. He had already circled several job ads and a few rental
possibilities. To McGarrett, the jobs looked a bit menial and most of the
apartments were small places up on the windward coast. His initial reaction was
disappointment. His own house, in a private enough suburb, was an easy, quick
distance from
Mentally he stopped himself. Looking at Dan
-- enthusiastic, optimistic, healthy -- the longish hair covering up the
bullet-scar -- this Danno was so close to his old friend. Far away from the
shattered Williams after the shooting. Life would never be like it had been
before Jin Wu. He had to lose that idea, but so far that mental discipline had
been impossible.
"You don't want something closer to
town?" he asked, taking another helping of sashimi with his chopsticks.
Dan shrugged. "I wouldn't mind
something around here," he gestured broadly, "or Hawaii Kai, but
prices are too high. Since I don't have a job yet, I can't afford it." A bit
frustrated, he sighed. "I guess I should look for a job first, huh?
Repairs on the Mustang were unreal."
Steve had never given a thought about the
money situation. Dan's pension was not extravagant, but should be comfortable.
In these inflationary times it would not get him far, but Steve had supposed
there were savings put away somewhere. As practical a person as he was, he
never stopped to consider the financial side of Williams' new status.
McGarrett's healthy income was padded by solid investments and frugal living
over the last two decades, plus, money coming in from his Navy reserve status.
"You can stay here as long as you want,
Danno."
"I know. Mahalo."
"If you need something to hold you over
for awhile --"
Dan waved away the idea. "No, I'll be fine.
But even I would get tired of being a surf bum seven days a week. So I'll look
around for work, then find a place to live."
Casually, Steve asked, "Any
prospects?"
"A few," Dan said equally
off-handedly. "Shelly Bryce, do you remember her? I ran into her the other
day. She and Kelly Hatsuyuki run a travel agency.
Kelly is Suzi Kelly's old friend, remember her?
Anyway, Shelly said she could probably fit me in," he said between bites
of sashimi and sushi. "And Sam Onoka, used to be
on Vice, he's a PI now. He said he had enough work for a partner sometimes. Not
to mention Magnum."
McGarrett nearly choked on his mouthful of
lomi salmon. "God save us from that," he said aghast, not sure if Dan
was joking or not.
"Oh, it's not so bad. I still have the
touch with informants. That would come in handy . . . . his voice faded when he
saw his companion's frosty, suspicious look.
"When were you talking to old
informants?"
For a moment Williams squirmed under the
glare, then decided the right move would be to come clean.
"When Kevin Wilson was killed. I
couldn't keep out of it, Steve. I didn't do a bit of good, but I gave it a
try." From the cloudy expression on McGarrett's face, he knew this was not
going over well. Giving a condensed version of his experience with Maki, he
talked fast to avoid the censure bubbling on McGarrett's tongue.
Grinding his teeth to keep silent, McGarrett
quelched his irritation with an incredible effort of
self-control. Disturbed Danno had put himself at risk on
Yes, he was grateful Danno was finding his
way again. It just wouldn't be easy on either of them, was his final, certain
thought.
Dan hurried on, trying to ignore Steve's
stormy expression. "I'm a -- I used to be a cop, Steve. Whether I have a
badge or not, it's not something I can give up. Signing on with a PI, or
something, is the only shot I have left. After the suicide verdict, I'll never
get my own State license, I'll have to go with somebody else."
"There's got to be a better
alternative," was McGarrett's curt response.
It was an effort for Steve to fight off a
wave of resentment, once more, for the impossible situation. Danno had been a
brilliant policeman with everything promising in front of him. His future had
been stolen from him. Now what was he left with? What career could there be for
a former Five-0 officer who could no longer be on the force?
His brooding must have gone on for some
time. He felt the silence surround him, felt Dan staring at him. When he
looked, he knew his thoughts had been openly readable.
"Steve," Dan reproved in almost a
resigned sigh.
"I know."
"We need to find a way to live with
this." His tone was speculative and without condemnation. It was as if he already
knew the direction which had to be taken, the things which needed to be said.
He had already traveled the path and was waiting for McGarrett to reach the
same conclusions.
For awhile they walked along the beach which
curved beyond the house and along a quiet bay. Most of the walk was spent in
silence. They wound their way back to the house and settled into the chairs on
the boat deck.
"Let's go see what they did to your
car."
"You mean take it out and open it
up?"
"That's how you clear the cobwebs out
of your head isn't it?"
Smiling, Dan nodded. "Blows 'em right into orbit."
"The way you drive, I bet it
does."
*****
The day could not have been more perfect if
they had ordered it custom made. Dark and light clouds drifted in and out of
the winding King Kam highway as they coursed their way up the windward coast.
The trade winds off the ocean were stiff and cool. With the top down the wind
whipped around them in swirling, fresh gusts brushed with errant rain, the
remnants of a wet winter storm. The Mustang rolled in and out of the dappled
sun and shade as clouds and liquid sunshine chased them up the sea-coast edge
of
"This is more than just a test drive,
isn't it?" Dan finally observed after his friend's notable silence.
"Is this to lull me off-guard so I'm more susceptible to therapy?"
"It's hard to know where to
start," McGarrett admitted somewhat self consciously. "I wanted to
clear everything away that afternoon you came out of the Foundation. But it's
taking a long time for the scars to heal."
"Not that easy, is it?" Williams
responded with a rhetorical question. "I know. Little things keep coming
up and I -- I don't know how to deal with them."
"Yeah," McGarrett agreed quietly.
This was not exactly a therapists room, yet
he already felt himself more inclined to talk in the relaxed situation. Danno
had something here in a convertible psych office.
Steve almost felt this was a soul-searching
session which could end up in all kinds of confessions. He couldn't remember
the last time he sensed such self-consciousness. Confidence and speaking his
mind were not problems he associated with himself. Then again, this was a
situation he had never been in before.
McGarrett paused on the brink of confession,
to steady his nerves. Thinking he was over all this, he was surprised at how
strong some unresolved feelings were. Obviously, he had just ignored it without
the depth of feeling going away. "The hurt and anger are dulled, but I
still can't erase those feelings. But they were never -- never directed at you,
Danno."
At the comment, Dan found it difficult to
keep his attention on the road. He glanced at McGarrett several times,
incredulous at the statement. "How could you not hate me? I hated myself!
How could you not be angry at me?"
"Because I was angry at the system
which had betrayed you -- us!" he snarled back. "You and I were
victims, Danno. You were a political liability. You had to be quietly
eliminated before you became an embarrassment."
Every word was a bitter indictment against
powers which he had been unable to ward off. It had been impossible to accept
then and he still could not accept it now. Williams had suffered through too
much for McGarrett to easily forgive anyone connected with the cover up. Danno
had been forced to end his life in trade for McGarrett's. What had been Steve's
big sacrifice to save his friend public humiliation -- or to even save a
career? Nothing.
"You were sacrificed, Danno. And there
was nothing I could do about it. Maybe I should have resigned, too."
"No, you couldn't, Steve!" Dan
flung back decisively. Unable to keep his eye on the road, he pulled off at a
nearby beach and parked the car. "You've put everything you are into
Five-0. I'm glad you didn't resign. I couldn't stand that, too, on my conscience."
"Is it anything to be proud of
now?" McGarrett wondered harshly.
"Yes," Dan shot back. "Five-0
is you! It always has been!"
McGarrett shook his head in disagreement.
"Five-0 was not me. Years ago it was when I organized it, maybe. Since
then it's altered and grown. Over the years you, Danno, you and I worked
together and made it something better. When you left, so did the heart of
Five-0. Five-0 worked because of us."
Dan looked away. He shook his head, denying
the words. "You're giving me too much credit." His voice was thick
with emotion.
McGarrett pressed on. He was too far into
this now to pull back. "It's true." Williams did not seem to agree.
Steve sighed in frustration and looked out over the ocean. The waves were high and
choppy, a matching correlation to his own inner turmoil. At last, McGarrett
finished with the plaintive regret, "And, there was nothing I could do to
save you."
"Then you have nothing to feel guilty
about," Williams said as he spun around to face his friend.
"I don't feel guilty," Steve
maintained. "I'm angry. And I can't understand why YOU aren't angry."
"What do you think that little drive up
to Mokuleia was?"
A grudging smile pulled at his lips as he
remembered how he had viewed that incident as a positive purge for his friend.
"An expensive tirade."
Williams was continuing his train of
thought. "You're feeling responsible because you couldn't save my
job."
Steve wanted to force out the denial, but
could not. Unable to continue with this strong, one-on-one intensity, he left
the car and walked to a low, lava-rock sea wall. Dan followed his former boss
and leaned on the wall. Light rain was sweeping in on the wind and Dan brushed
it from his face.
With the same driving force Steve had used,
Williams pressed McGarrett to admit there was nothing he could have done to
alter the course of events. Once the brainwashing had been completed they both
had been pushed onto an unalterable course. That was what Dan had learned and
been forced to accept. He didn't like it, but he acknowledged changing
inevitable events was beyond his control. It was what he wanted McGarrett to
accept.
"Steve, we start fresh here and now or
we can never let the past go. We said we were going to do that when -- when I
was released, but we haven't. It's been too hard. Now we have to accept what
has happened and move on. No more guilt and no more agonizing over what might
have been. We can't live with the confusion and injustice anymore. We have to
get rid of it. I can't pretend I'm with Five-0 anymore. You can't ignore that
you are."
McGarrett stared out at sea for a long time.
Williams' amateur psychology was entirely too probing. "Can you do
that?" he finally asked.
"I think so. I hope so. I have
to," Dan responded thoughtfully. "One thing would really help."
Intrigued, Steve went for the bait and asked
the stipulation.
"I have to ask you to forgive me for
everything. It's the only way I can bury my ghosts."
"Danno, there's nothing to forgive
--"
"Steve --"
"It wasn't your fault --"
"In my mind it was! Can you --"
"Yes," McGarrett interrupted
sharply. "I forgive you." It was blurted out in the tone of a forced
confession under duress. After a moment he shook his head and looked over to
his silent companion. "I never blamed you. Not for your actions when under
Jin Wu's control. You were always harder on yourself than I ever could
be." He scrutinized his friend's face and knew that was not the answer Dan
wanted. "Okay," he sighed, "I forgive you," he capitulated
in a much more subdued voice. This time there was sincerity backing the words.
"Now can you forgive yourself?"
was Williams' quiet return.
McGarrett was wary. "For what?"
"For not being super-human. For not
preventing everything from my lay-off all the way back to Jin Wu's plot and Wo Fat.
None of it was your fault, Steve. Nothing you could have done would have
altered or prevented the way things turned out. You have to accept that."
Steve was guarded. "Part of it is my
fault, Danno. If I had voiced my -- premonition, if you will -- about the
latent programming, this might have been avoided."
With a scowl, Williams said, "It
wouldn't have made any difference, Steve. I was given a clean bill of health.
McBride couldn't find any evidence of any danger." He released a huge
sigh. "Jin Wu was more diabolical than any of us expected. We still don't
know --" self-consciously he stared at his hands. Clearing his throat, he
commented, "We still don't know exactly what happened, or if I'm still a
threat to you. We have to believe -- really believe -- it's behind us."
After it was clear there would be no response from McGarrett, Williams said
"It's been nearly impossible for me to forgive myself for everything.
Sometimes I'm not sure I've convinced myself yet. Not deep down, you know?"
The inner struggle with guilt related to his
attempt to shoot McGarrett; his brainwashing, his suicide effort. He still
couldn't even talk about what he had done to Steve, to himself. With time, he
hoped to be able to cope with it all. Right now, it would be enough if he could
clear away those mental ghosts for his friend. Steve McGarrett was the anchor
on which his life was fastened until he could stand on his own again.
As McGarrett mentally reviewed the long list
of tragedies leading up to this moment, he was amazed they had survived so
much. It was a tribute to their strength of character as individuals and their
strength of friendship and commitment to each other. Alone, he was uncertain
they could have weathered the storms which had assailed them. Now, it would be
the friendship that would pull them from this eddy of confusion to a final,
safe harbor.
After all they had survived from without, it
seemed a small thing to admit a few of his own failings and to the source of
his strengths. Very slowly he nodded his agreement. "You're right, Danno.
I have to start by forgiving myself for failing once in awhile. Not easy for
me." Astonishment covered Williams' expression and for several moments.
McGarrett savored the overwhelmed attitude of his friend. Before Dan could recover,
Steve went on to his next surprise. "There is one thing you will have to
forgive me for."
"Anything," was the ready
response.
"For waiting so long to tell you --
really tell you, how much you mean to me, Danno. When everything was so black
-- well, without you around my life was pretty empty."
Obviously embarrassed, Dan interrupted.
"Steve, you don't have to say --"
"I have to say that you're my only real
friend," he cut in. "You've become closer than a brother -- I love you.
You keep my head together when I can't." Despite his fervent resolve to
get through what he felt needed to be said, he found he could not keep the
tangled emotions from creeping into his words, his tone. As he warmed to his
theme he found it harder to keep his voice steady. "When you were at the
Foundation it was like a part of me was gone, too." He paused to catch his
breath. "You're my focus when I get obsessed, when my vision of the world
gets blurred. I still need you with me, whether we're with Five-0 or not. Thank
you for being a patient and loyal friend."
Several deep sighs escaped Steve. More
emotions were revealed than he ever expected. Embarrassed by the openness, he
still felt better now that these emotional remnants surfaced. It was a purge he
would never want to repeat, but felt stronger for finally saying so much of
what needed to be said for so long. They had covered a lot in a very intense,
short period. They had left a number of things untouched. Like the future. That
would be something to discuss another day.
Williams was completely silent; too stunned,
too touched, for comment. For awhile they walked along the beach in mute
meditation. Both were emotionally drained from the discussion. Slowly, they
wound their way back to the car. Sitting on the not yet repainted hood, they
watched the nearby surf crashing on the sand.
From Dan's back pocket McGarrett pulled the
folded newspaper, tore it into several pieces, and threw it in a nearby trash
can.
"I need you closer than Waimanalo or
Haleiwa, Danno," was the simple explanation. "You'll stay at the
beach house until we find you something in the neighborhood."
'A royal edict if I ever heard one!' Dan
mused with an quiet smile. He suspected McGarrett was watching out for him not
just out of concern or affection, but because McGarrett DID feel responsible
for all that had happened. For now, Dan would let it go. He needed his friend's
support as much as he needed the air to breathe. If Steve didn't want him very
far away yet, then he would stay at the beach house for awhile.
"What fun will it be having you back if
I can't get you to jog with me at six in the morning?"
Very slowly, Dan nodded his head.
"Maybe you should have saved the classifieds," he gestured to the
trash can. "If I stay in your neighborhood I'll have to get a really good
job. How much does a PI make?" he speculated.
"I'm sure we'll think of something more
suitable," was McGarrett's counter reply. Then a gleam appeared in his
eye. "We could always go in as partners in something when I retire."
Dan laughed at that incredible, impossible
option. "That sounds dangerous," he joked, then seriously reminded,
"I have to do something, Steve. I can't go on in limbo like this."
As always, he became easily frustrated with
the corner they had been forced into. Steve impulsively sprang to his feet. He
offered a hand to his friend and yanked Dan up. He started away, but was
anchored by Dan still holding the hand-lock. He turned to give a silent inquiry
for the delay.
"Mahalo," Dan said quietly.
McGarrett nodded, accepting the spoken and
unspoken meaning covered by the simple word of thanks.
*****
The lengthy transcript on handgun
legislation was placed on the kitchen table along with a huge mug of coffee.
The lanai door was open and a balmy, spring breeze rolled in from the
night-dark sea. McGarrett was setting the stage for a long night's homework. He
did not like business intruding on his time at the beach house, yet he did not
seem to get enough done at the office to finish all the work. The problem was
he just could not get focused on the job at hand. He glanced at the classified
ad pages spread out on the table. Dan had circled several possibilities -- all
horrible in Steve's opinion. His mind kept straying back to the more personal
role of finding Danno a job. McGarrett had assumed the responsibility for
Williams' welfare, and so far he had not been able to formulate a solid plan of
action for Williams' future. He needed to soon because Danno's patience was
quickly fading.
"Bringing the job home again?"
"Hi, Danno," he greeted without
looking around.
Williams came in from the lanai, helped
himself to coffee and took a perch at the edge of the table opposite McGarrett.
McGarrett restrained a smile. He had almost
expected an early return by his friend. Dan was finding it hard to slip back
into the social scene of
"Mei have a
curfew?"
"Yeah, morning classes at the U of H. I
don't know why you keep your condo, Steve. You're never there. Why don't you move
out here? It'd save you bucks. How can you resist this great piece of
paradise?"
McGarrett gave up trying to study the legal
material and glanced at his friend. His response was dry. "You've been
telling me that for years."
Williams sipped his coffee. "You're
here more than you're at home. Less stress than city living." Having moved
to hover over the Five-0 detective's shoulder, Williams desultorily thumbed
through the papers. "Move out here and I'll find a place of my own,"
Williams offered too neatly, too calculatedly.
So that's what the conversation -- the
incessant chatter -- was about, McGarrett realized. Danno wanted an excuse to
get kicked out of the beach house.
Williams paused to refill the coffee cups.
"You might as well live here. You bring the office back with you. Bad
habit, Steve," was the gentle reprimand. "Glad I'm not the one having
to do this," was the final comment as he placed the mug on top of the
papers.
McGarrett scowled at the observations which
were right on target, then moved the mug. "If you're so concerned, have a
seat and help."
"Oh no," Dan waved away. "I
always hated this detail work. Bad on the eyes." Distractedly, McGarrett
returned his attention to the papers.
Dan sipped coffee and leaned against the kitchen
counter watching his friend. After an uncomfortable moment, he stuttered,
"I -- uh needed to ask you something, Steve."
"Okay, Danno," he sighed, pushing
the papers away, obviously he was not going to get anything done. Secretly, he
was grateful for the intrusion. He had always put too much time and energy into
his job while away from the office. "What's your question?" he asked,
looking up at his friend.
Dan ran a hand through his hair, a sure sign
of frustration or confusion. "I talked to Sammy Takamura
about a security job at the Reef. He said you called him and asked him not to
hire me."
"True," McGarrett admitted
bluntly.
Williams was incredulous. "Steve --
why?" he sputtered. "It was a good job. Security is something I can
handle. I have the experience and I still have the contacts in HPD and my
snitches."
"Pushing pencils in a hotel security
office, Danno." He eyed his friend suspiciously. "Since when have you
been using your contacts on the street and HPD?" Dan tried to adopt an
innocent expression and failed. "What have you been up to?"
"Nothing you need to worry about, just
helping out on a few things with a PI I know at the club."
"Danno -- "
"I owed Higgins a favor for getting me
back in the club, Steve. And I can't just sit around here doing nothing. Magnum
paid good money." From his friend's glowering expression Dan hurried on.
"You don't need to concern yourself with the details, Steve." On the
darkening scowl he hurried on. "I've still got cop instincts, Steve."
His face was earnest. "I can't just walk away from it. And if I can't be a
real cop, then I'll have to go with a substitute."
"You can do better than Sammy's
offer," McGarrett maintained. "Or Magnum's questionable
activities!" In emphasis he rumpled up the classified section and tossed
it into the trash.
Dan shook his head, muttering. Sitting next
to Steve, he studied a knot in the wood table while his right hand nervously
fingered the side of his head under the thick, frosty hair. "With my --
past, I can't get a PI license. So I need something else." He added
pointedly, "If I could get a recommendation from my influential friend.
Without your help --" Williams stumbled. "Well, ex-cops with a
history of suicide attempts aren't at the top of the hiring list."
"You've got to put that behind you,
Danno," McGarrett said sharply. "It's history --"
"Not to the public, Steve."
This dilemma was something Steve had
pondered off and on for the last several months since Dan's release from the
Foundation. Williams would need a job, although not just any job. It would have
to be suitable. Even with his reputation as the second in command of Five-0,
Dan would not find it easy to get good employment. For one reason, the job
market in the islands was not healthy. For another, there still swirled a cloud
of controversy concerning his retirement from Five-0. If someone dug too deeply
they might find out the truth of Dan's dismissal. That must never happen, Steve
promised himself. It would be a crushing embarrassment for Dan to live through
a public dissection of the tragedy. The official story was already bad enough.
In all his pondering, McGarrett had not come up with any solutions, but he knew
what was NOT right for Williams. In his eyes, Dan was still the best cop he'd
ever known and that deserved more than an assistant clerk for hotel security; a
rent-a-guard, a tour guide, or a PI aide on sleazy divorce cases.
Neither was McGarrett in a hurry for
Williams to leave the protected sphere constructed at his Aina
Haina retreat. Having Danno close was McGarrett's own
psychological crutch to deal with the brainwashing, the near loss of Williams
and the following tragic events.
"We'll find you something, Danno, don't
worry."
Williams looked up to face his friend.
"Steve, this is my problem, not yours." There was heavy exasperation
in the tone. "I need to handle this myself."
"Okay," he agreed. "But why
throw away your time and talent on something that isn't worthy of you?"
Dan ruefully shook his head and breathed a
deep sigh. "Arguing with you is like hitting my head against a lava
wall." Frustrated, he tried to find the words to articulate his position.
"I need to stand on my own. I really appreciate everything you've done for
me, but I -- I don't know -- I need a purpose in life."
"I know that," McGarrett agreed
readily. "I'm sorry if I've crowded you, Danno. It's my way of
overcompensating, I guess."
Dan nodded his understanding.
"Yeah," he accepted. "So what am I going to do about a job?
Where am I going to live?"
"You stay here," McGarrett
responded simply.
"I can't stay here forever,
Steve."
"Why not?"
"You're practically living here now. We
need space from each other. Privacy."
A quirk of devilment stole into McGarrett's
thoughts. "We're not getting married, Danno. We're sharing a house -- a
big house."
"I know," was Williams' flustered
response at the tease. "I occasionally have -- women over. It's pretty
crowded when you bring Agnes over. And when Nicole comes you'll want me out of
the way."
McGarrett shrugged. "We'll work
something out."
Williams muttered under his breath. He had
not used 'signals' to warn off intruding roomies since college and did not want
to start the practice again. Things were just not going the way he had
anticipated.
"Look, Danno," McGarrett said
matter-of-factly. "I promise I'll try not to crowd you or control your
life. But, I want you around for awhile." He pushed away from the table
and went to stand at the open lanai. "When you were at the Foundation
there were times I wasn't sure if you would ever get out. If I would ever have
my friend back. Now that you're here I want to make up for that fear, I
guess." Realizing he was a little too personal, he went for a line which
was more distant, yet still sincere. "You have your own room with a lanai,
an ocean view and a private beach. How can you refuse?"
"I can't," Williams admitted with
a rueful smile. "I can't just be a beach bum, either, Steve. I need to DO
something important with my life." Williams was both frustrated with his
own struggles and sympathetic to his friend's. He went to the lanai, thrust his
hands in his pockets and leaned on the other side of the broad doorway.
"Since my uncle died, maybe before, I wanted to be a cop. He was a good
one and I wanted to be like him. When I came into Five-0, I wanted to be like
you -- super-cop. I never thought I'd have to worry about another career. Now
here I am, over forty years old and what am I supposed to do with my
life?"
"We'll find you something, Danno,"
McGarrett said with iron conviction. "Trust me."
The resolve forced a grin from the younger
man. It was a familiar, forceful tone he'd heard so often; rock-solid
confidence that could move mountains. All Williams had to do was share the
faith.
"Okay," he agreed. "But as
soon as I find a job I start paying you rent."
"I won't accept it," Steve flatly
countered.
"But --"
"Danno, I'm in a position to do you a
favor."
"Steve, I don't want you to feel
obligated --"
"You're missing the point."
Steve stepped over to stand by his friend.
His voice was quiet as he told Williams to think back several years to when
there had been a plot to frame McGarrett for murdering his girlfriend. He had
been booked. Bail had been set and paid at fifty thousand dollars. The next
morning he found out his guys, spearheaded by Dan, had put up the money. Later
he learned Chin and Duke had spared what they could from their meager family
savings. Dan had scrounged up the remaining bulk of the money.
"You took out a personal loan from a
finance company because the banks wouldn't touch you," McGarrett pressed
on with a wavering voice. This was the first time he had ever revealed his
knowledge of the great sacrifice of his men. It still touched him, shook him
beyond words to know they -- Dan -- cared so much about him.
"I always knew you were a great
detective," Dan said quietly, striving for some light touch. He sat down
on the top step. "I didn't think you were clairvoyant."
A ghost of a smile danced on Steve's lips as
he sat next to his friend. "I'm not. I cornered Chin one day. That good
natured Chinaman was a softy," Steve said fondly. "He broke real easy
under interrogation."
"I'm not surprised," was Dan's
arid response. "Who could stand up under your questioning?"
"I got a confession of the true
breakdown of finances, Danno. When the bail money was returned you paid off
everyone's debts and absorbed the loss." He leaned closer and made sure he
had complete eye contact with his victim. "Don't refuse me this chance to
do something for you."
Dan was incredibly moved by the intensity of
the argument. Obviously he no longer had the heart to resist.
"I have the opportunity to help you. So
please stay here while you put your life back together."
Very slowly a smile spread across Williams'
face. It was a warm expression which touched his eyes. "Well, when you put
it that way, I'd be happy to. Mahalo."
Steve grinned, pleased by the victory which
had been more important than he understood. "You're welcome."
"I still have to find a job."
"We'll work on that next,"
McGarrett promised.
"That's what I'm afraid of," came
Dan's sarcastic response.
"First, I'll need you this weekend to
help me move."
Williams nearly choked. "Move here?
Great!" His elation was cut short and he eyed McGarrett suspiciously.
"Since when have you been so impulsive?"
"Must be your bad influence," was
McGarrett's conclusion.
"Okay," Williams agreed, obviously
pleased his friend was taking his advice. "But don't bring the office back
with you, bruddah."
McGarrett said nothing, eyeing his friend
with a critical gaze. He was not ready to take orders from his house guest yet.
Kindly, but firmly, Williams was told to stop complaining. McGarrett returned
to the table and shoved half of the weighty documents to the other end. Then he
instructed the former detective what they were looking for and ordered Williams
to get busy.
"I thought I was through with this
thankless work," Dan sighed as he sat at the table, placing the coffee pot
between them. "Nevermind. I'm not even going to
waste my breath arguing with you."
"Good," McGarrett responded, satisfied
everything was going his way. That's how he liked the state of his world.
*****
Dan felt a bit disappointed that
Meeting his old pal Nick Kamekona in the
lobby, he enjoyed the grand tour set up by the new security chief. Normally
impulsive by nature, there had been no second thoughts when Nick had called the
night before and asked if Dan wanted to fly over for a last-minute job
interview for the position of assistant chief of security. Nick now explained
that three other candidates, suggested by management, had washed out, which
opened the opportunity for Nick's number one candidate, Williams.
Studying the massive open lobby, impressive
grounds, jet-set quality accommodations, Dan admitted he could fit in here
without any problem. It would be a new island, a new environment, and a fresh
start. By the time they had lunch with the management directors, Dan felt
confident the mutual inspection came off like a charm.
Ending the tour back at the lobby, Nick
wanted Dan to meet with one more person in his office. Walking in, Dan was
stunned to see Jenny Sherman Kamekona sitting behind the desk.
"My secretary," Nick announced
with a smile.
Jenny glanced up, initially started, then
rushed and gave Williams a warm hug. "Danny, it's so good to see
you."
"You too, Jenny. I was hoping I'd get
to visit with you."
"I work here in the afternoons. When
you get the job we'll see each other every day. Almost like old times."
Dan's smile faltered, but he recovered
quickly. "Yeah, that would be nice."
They offered him a seat in the comfortable
reception area.
"How's Steve doing?"
"Okay," Dan responded, surprised
at how difficult this reunion suddenly became. The past hitting him flat in the
face was a shock. He'd thought this was all behind him. Every time someone
whispered a little too loud behind his back, whenever he ran into an old law
enforcement colleague and they struggled through a strained, brief, polite
conversation, it all came back to haunt him. Some ghosts just couldn't be
exorcised. "Still busy."
She sadly shook her head. "Poor Steve.
He never let's up. Then another Five-0 policeman was killed -- there's still so
much danger and politics and controversy." Realizing too late the
significance of her words, she apologized. "Sorry, Danny, I didn't mean
about you."
Dan brushed it aside, knowing his bravado
was weak. "No, that's okay, Jenny."
"Well, I need to be at a meeting.
You'll have supper with us, won't you, Danny?" Nick invited.
"Thanks, but I'm booked on a flight
back to
"But the managers like you. I'm betting
they'll offer you the job tomorrow. If so, they'll want you to start right
away. Why not stay the night?"
He shook his head. "Steve's
superstitious nature must be catching up with me. I might jinx the deal if I
stay. Call me. If I need to, I can fly back tomorrow."
Nick agreed, shook farewell, and left. Dan
felt he needed to say more to Jenny. Loyal to a fault to her Five-0 family,
especially Steve, it was a hard decision for her to leave when she married Nick.
As she mentioned back in '76, it was the right time for her to go. The job
became more violent, the attacks against Five-0 and it's detective's more
intense. She couldn't juggle a husband with such a demanding job. Many times
Dan felt the detectives could not have gotten through some of their crises
without the stalwart Jenny. In the last few years, particularly, he missed her
support and sage counsel. As someone he deeply respected, his ohana, he felt he
owed her an explanation.
"Jenny, before I leave, I want you to
know something."
Anticipating his motives she responded
quickly, "You don't need to say -- "
"Jenny, I can't tell you everything
that happened, all the reasons why I left Five-0. But I want you to know --
" Words failed him momentarily. "You've heard lots of reports and
rumors, and everything." He changed seats and took hold of her hands in
both of his. "You know sometimes we were involved with -- things," he
stammered. "Things we couldn't really talk about." Taking a deep
breath, he looked straight into her eyes now brimming with sympathetic tears.
"I did -- I fired -- shot myself, Jenny," he confessed quietly. The
tears trailed down her cheeks and he felt his eyes burn with tears of his own.
"It's not what everybody thinks -- "
"Of course not," she refuted
loyally, instantly, but relief tinged her tone.
"There were reasons behind what I
did," he brokenly continued. "But I want you to know it was not to
hurt Steve. And it wasn't because I wanted out of Five-0."
"I'm sure," she choked, hugging
him as she wept into his shoulder. "You would never hurt Steve. And you
would never leave Five-0 if you had any choice at all," she affirmed.
Shaking from the emotional release, he
cried. Never dreaming this interview would be so hard, he struggled back to a
level calm enough to talk. "And you wouldn't know it from our years
together, but I'm not crazy," he added, as close to a joke as he could
manage.
Jenny laughed, as she always did, at his bad
jokes. This time through her fading tears. "Oh, Danny, I don't know about
that. I've seen some of the girls you date."
He laughed, hugging her tightly. Only for a
moment, not wanting his shaky emotional state to dissolve again into another
teary scene.
"I'll be all right, Jenny." He
pulled away so she could see the conviction in his eyes. "Really. And
Steve's okay, too. We got through this together."
Wiping her face, she patted his arm.
"Of course. You two can do anything together." She studied him
closely. "That's why I wonder if this is a good job for you." His
eyebrows shot up and she continued. "I'd love to have you so close again,
Danny, but you and Steve work as a team. When one of you left, it was never the
same." She squeezed his hand. "When one of you hurt, the other hurt
worse until everything cleared up. I don't think politics, or being part of
Five-0, or anything else can change that, Danny. But living on a different
island would be hard for both of you."
He wanted the job, but he knew she was
right. He kissed her cheek. "You're the best detective we ever had, Jenny.
Thanks, but I need this job. Besides, living in
She shook her head. "You'll make a good
life for yourself no matter what job you do. But that life will always include
Steve. You're stronger together, Danny."
He kissed her again, thanking her for the
best job interview he'd ever had. Daring to believe in her optimism, trying to
accommodate her advice and her wisdom, he left the office more buoyed than he
had felt in a long time.
*****
On the return flight to
Worn out, Steve needed a vacation. Needed to
leave Five-0, came the unbidden flash of criticism and Dan regretted the
unconscious selfishness. Five-0 still qualified as the most important thing in
Steve's life -- always was, always would be his life. Dan's absence didn't
change that, he chided himself for the egotistical aberration. Steve was
Five-0. The past few months Dan had needled his friend to take time off and
recover from the strain they had endured, but Steve met the advice with
typical, stubborn resistance. Evidence enough Five-0 remained the center of his
life. Dan had no right to ask him to give that up. A little time off would do
wonders for him. And probably, so would Dan living on another island. Close
enough to visit regularly and keep in touch,
More determined than ever to make this work,
Dan convinced himself the
*****
Late afternoon brought long shadows across
the sand. The low sun shimmering on the horizon made the tall palms spotted
around the property look like elongated fingers stretched across the beach.
McGarrett felt a spark of warm contentment every time he pulled into the long,
curved drive to the house. This was a perfect spot to enjoy paradise.
He was surprised to see Williams' Mustang in
the drive. Dan had mentioned he had set aside the day for either work with one
of his ecology causes, or for serious job hunting, so Steve had not expected to
see Dan until late evening. Williams took his causes seriously, although he
made sure he kept a low profile. Because Williams was still trying to keep out
of the public eye, his efforts for the preservation of
As for the job hunting, Williams was
diligent, but still unemployed. He countered the footloose position by seeming
to enjoy the carefree lifestyle of a beach bum. An unemployed Williams was fine
with McGarrett. It was still good to have his friend there, knowing Danno was
close at hand and a permanent fixture in his life again. He was in no hurry for
Williams to get a job because that would significantly decrease their time
together and McGarrett wasn't ready for that.
On the down side, unemployment was not doing
any good for Dan's ego. As much as Steve tried to bolster him, Williams was
beginning to feel depressed. It was not easy for an ex-Five-0 cop; aggressive
and highly-motivational, to get a mundane job. There were some offers too
menial that McGarrett simply would not sanction for his friend. Good naturedly,
Williams had, so far, taken Steve's advice on the job market. Steve foresaw a
time in the near future when that would change. It meant Steve would have to
find a mutually acceptable compromise before Dan ended up narrating tour busses
around the islands.
When McGarrett stepped through the front
door and around to the dining room table, he was surprised to see an entire
case of
"You found the chips, I hear,"
came Williams' voice from the spare room which had been adopted as his own.
McGarrett leaned in the doorway, still
munching. He was surprised to see Dan packing clothes into an overnight bag.
"While I've been making
Williams stopped packing long enough to grab
a few chips from the open bag. "Thought I'd bring back a decent supply
while I was there. Your stock of junk food is pitiful."
"What's the lure in
Dan smiled and shook his head. "Not
yet. I got an offer for an expenses paid day in Lahaina so I took advantage of
the opportunity." He moved to the closet and pulled out a new suit. Since
his departure from Five-0 he had streamlined his wardrobe, ditching several
suits which were practically the uniform of plainclothes detectives. He had
purchased one sharp, off-white linen suit for the few times he thought he would
be needing something semi-formal. He hung the coat hanger on the top of the
door so the suit could air, then he glanced at McGarrett's casual leisure outfit.
"Get out a suit, Steve. I made reservations for Chez Michel's. My
treat."
McGarrett dusted the oil and salt from his
hands then thrust them in his pockets. He warily considered the disjointed
elements of information in this conversation. Somehow he instinctively knew he
was not going to like this.
"What's the occasion?"
"I won't know for sure until tomorrow,
but I think I've got a great job in Lahaina."
Williams' face was lit with an enthusiasm
McGarrett hadn't seen in awhile. Until now he had not realized how much it
meant to Dan to have a good job. He momentarily felt guilty about his
stubbornness, sometimes his outright undermining, to keeping Dan unemployed. It
was a purely selfish motivation, however upon reflection, he felt no regret or
guilt at his actions. Dan was above all the jobs he had so far come up with.
Steve would torpedo this one, too, if it didn't measure up.
"I'm flying back tomorrow and spending
a few days to check out the place, let them check me out." He rattled on
oblivious to McGarrett's silence. "I'm gonna
take a quick swim and then get ready. We have early reservations for
seven."
McGarrett went back down to the ground
floor, sat on the lanai step and watched Williams swim. Steve went through a
whole bag of chips before his ethereal, indistinct ideas formed themselves into
a viable, solid presentation he could offer Williams as an alternative to Maui.
Now he had to wait for an opportunity to make this look like anything other
than a last ditch effort to keep Williams here.
*****
"Jenny sends her love, by the
way.."
"How's she doing?"
"
His explanations were coming fast and
crowded, as if he was rushing through before Steve could offer an objection. It
was a defensive ploy and made McGarrett feel Williams knew objections were on
the horizon.
"Security is something I know. Working
with people -- well, I have a lot of experience with that, too."
McGarrett toyed with his water glass. He was
singularly uninterested in the delicious fare he had been pushing around his
plate. "Don't you consider this sleeping with the enemy?"
Williams' scowl indicated the barb had hit
home. "Maybe I'll get blackballed from Friends of the Earth. I don't want
to work for a resort, but I don't have many of choices. A lot of ex-cops are
hotel security personnel."
"Too bad it's not in
"Maybe that's a good thing," Dan
countered, equally casual. "Something new and different. Get me out from
under foot for a while."
"Sounds almost perfect," McGarrett
admitted tightly, the words in direct opposition to his tone and mood.
"There are no perfect jobs
around," Williams admitted. He pushed his plate away, no longer interested
in the expensive meal.
McGarrett looked at him levelly. "What
would be your idea of the perfect job?"
"Besides a perennial surfer?"
Williams returned flippantly. Sobering he shrugged his shoulders.
"Something close to this offer, I guess," he unenthusiastically
remarked. The vigor and excitement of his pitch waned as their conversation
sobered to subjects still too sensitive. "A continually challenging job in
security or something." His expression darkened and he looked away over
the ocean view afforded at their well-situated table. "I need to get out
of limbo, Steve. Not enforcement anymore."
There was a lot of unspoken regret there.
Steve didn't want to touch that sore spot, it was a tender subject for both of
them. The perfect job, Five-0, was inaccessible to Dan forever. They hadn't
covered this during Dan's employment search. It was too hard to talk about.
Dan brought his gaze back to McGarrett.
"The perfect job -- isn't available," he admitted with difficulty,
unknowingly -- pr perhaps knowingly -- echoing Steve's thoughts. "Short of
that -- " He shook his head.
Hating himself for the bruise this would
inflict on his friend, Steve pressed for an answer. Dan was leading himself
right into a corner and Steve couldn't give way. A minor wound now might clear
the way for them to save their future. And that was what he was fighting to
preserve here, their future. Williams escaping to
"What?" McGarrett pressured.
"This isn't what you really want, is it? Now's the time to admit that. Find
the right job and you'll get your life back, I'm sure of it."
A regretful smile lingered for a moment,
then Dan responded quietly, "It's a good job, Steve. I do want it."
"You want it because it's a good offer.
But it's not what you're looking for, is it? Honestly, Danno."
Locking eyes with his friend, Dan recognized
the resolute challenge there. Sighing, he surrendered. "Why are you
pushing, Steve? You don't want me to take this job, either, do you?"
Masterfully avoiding the pitfall of
contention, Steve countered, "If you could create it, what would be your
perfect job, Danno? Just humor me. Five-0 is out of bounds now. What's your
second choice?"
After another sigh, Dan gave a nod.
"Something close. Somehow working with you again . . . ." he trailed
off, staring out at the sea.
That was the hook Steve had been waiting
for. His plan, fully formed, could now be presented to his primed subject.
"I've had something stirring in the
back of my mind for awhile, Danno. See what you think. Sometime soon I'd like
to retire from Five-0."
Williams nearly choked on his coffee.
"You retire?" he scoffed.
Miffed, McGarrett countered that he had no
intention of remaining with Five-0 forever. He did not say that with the
current direction of the state police unit he did not foresee staying on very
long at all. Without Williams there was no passion left in the organization and
McGarrett felt he did not need to remain as a director. There were many others
who could qualify in that position.
Williams seemed to sense his thoughts
because the younger man sobered and admitted retirement from Five-0 would do
Steve a world of good. Eagerly, he invited McGarrett to continue.
"Retirement is on the horizon, Danno.
I'm enough of a realist to know that. I've been there a long time. After this
past year, I should retire, take some time off, of course, but I know myself
well enough to know I can't be a beach bum forever, either. I want to have
somewhere to go, like you, somewhere challenging, but in a field similar to
police work. So I thought I'd start a security consulting company. What do you
think?"
He outlined details of a business catering
to corporations, estates, hotels, anyone with needs for increased,
sophisticated security measures. In a time of rising terrorism and world threats,
and his expertise and credentials, the idea seemed perfect. With a nod of
approval, Williams indicated it seemed a logical progression for someone of
McGarrett's accomplishments.
"I have the money to invest,"
Steve went on, "but I need someone up front who can sell the company and
who has the personality, talent and skill to really run things while I stay in
the background." He directed a probing stare at his friend. "How'd
you like the job?"
"Me?" At first Williams was
surprised, then his expression altered to wariness. "Steve, you don't have
to invent a job just to keep me from hotel security."
"I've been thinking about this for
awhile," he defended quickly. "I've been trying to fit the pieces
together. This is as good a time as any to give it a try."
"And you don't think the head of Five-0
starting a security firm is a conflict of interest?"
"Touché," Steve acknowledged.
"That's why I'm the silent, financial partner and you're going to do all
the initial work. We might get some heat, but what's new about that? This
venture is certainly not illegal!"
"And you just happened to mention it
now when I'm about to take a job?" he countered skeptically.
"You know me, I lead a fire-drill
existence. It takes a crisis of some kind to push me into things
sometimes."
"Me getting a job is a crisis?"
"The wrong job, yes," McGarrett
clarified. There was no other way around it so he plunged in with the difficult
assortment of explanations from the heart that he found so arduous to express.
"All these other jobs you've applied for, I told you they were beneath
you. And they were." He looked away for a moment staring at the dark ocean
and tried to collect his thoughts, his courage, to say what he really felt.
"I want us to go in the same direction. We could work together as if -- as
if nothing had ever happened to change that."
"A big 'if'."
He turned back to Williams and leaned
forward, placing his elbows on the table, allowing the intensity to surge into
his eyes and tone. "That's what I've been trying to work out. A security
consulting business is perfect for us, something we can build together -- our
own vision. If you're willing to give it a try."
For several moments Williams was speechless.
His expression reflected the reluctance and the confusion he felt. He leaned
back in his chair, biting his lip as he contemplated the scenario. His eyes
were pulled to the sea again. Night made the undulating waves a deep blanket of
midnight blue.
"You're sure this is what you want to
spend your money on?"
It was a light inquiry but laced with deeper
doubts and uncertainties.
"Absolutely," Steve assured
sincerely. "You'll be your own boss."
"I would want to pull my own
weight," Dan insisted, a little more securely.
"You'll be the front man, Danno. A
talent which suits you perfectly. You can charm in all the clients we'll need.
You can write your own ticket. I'll just supervise."
A smile quirked at Williams' mouth.
"You don't know the meaning of the word." He glanced across the
table, his eyes sparked with the light of humor.
With the warmth of satisfaction glowing in
his thoughts, McGarrett knew he had won. "Then I'll learn," he
offered magnanimously. "I'll be a silent partner. Promise."
"We'll see," Dan compromised, as
if he knew the impossibility of that fantasy.
"No
Williams shook his head, ruefully conceding
to the overwhelming power of his once and future boss. "No
"You can talk to Nick about being one
of our first clients." Enormously pleased, McGarrett raised his coffee cup
to offer a toast. "Here's to the continuation of a partnership."
Dan raised his own cup and clicked the
china, adding his concurrence to the toast.
*****
In between sips of hot, fresh coffee,
McGarrett knotted his tie and gathered paperwork into his briefcase. Cool,
crisp morning air was blowing through the open lanai door. There was a towel
draped on the handle of the glass door and McGarrett assumed Williams'
overnight guest was out for a morning swim. It certainly wouldn't be Danno
voluntarily up at this hour. Steve couldn't think of her name, but he knew the
green VW bug which he had seen in the driveway when he arrived home last night
belonged to the travel agent. Giving up trying to remember the names, he stuck
with the occupations or cars; still, he almost needed a scorecard to keep them
all straight.
With Williams' attempts to slip back into
'normal' life, he had managed a packed social calendar. There were, however, no
relationships of any depth or permanence. This was not just another side effect
of the brainwashing; no strings, no serious emotions. Williams had started the
trend years before after his girlfriend, Jane Michaels, had been murdered, he
recalled. McGarrett wondered if, thanks to Jin Wu, Dan would ever feel
comfortable again in a stable relationship.
He stopped himself short at the thought.
Hardly one to even silently lecture his friend on girlfriends. Only in the past
few years did he venture into extended relationships of any length with women.
Forcing himself to bring a halt to all the
speculation, McGarrett took the coffee mug into the kitchen and picked out his
daily assortment of vitamins. When he returned to the table to retrieve his
briefcase, he stopped cold. Dripping wet, standing near the open door, was a
naked woman drying her long, dark hair with a towel.
"Oh, hi, Steve."
"Morning, Shelly." The name
suddenly leaped into his mind. Amazing what surprise did to the memory.
"Oh, sorry," she said and draped
the towel around her body. "I forgot my manners. Some people get nervous
when I swim in the nude."
"Like my neighbors?" he asked
neutrally. He was impressed that his expression reflected a non-reaction to the
free-spirited woman. As he recalled, she was a bit of a sensationalist and
loved to shock people.
"That's why I'm up early."
"There are ordinances against this, you
know," he mildly lectured. He closed his briefcase and grabbed his jacket
from a hanger.
She grinned like a Menehune. "You won't
arrest me, I hope."
"No," was his dry response.
"And please tell Danno I want him to call me later this morning."
"Sure," she agreed.
As he walked to his car he pondered the
interesting morning. It looked like he would have to reevaluate the house-guest
situation. He would make a few calls when he got to the office.
*****
"Yeah, Doc," McGarrett said
loudly. The marine-phone connection with the retired, former ME was garbled. On
a deep sea fishing boat, Bergman was tracked down off the
"What about security for the governor's
luncheon next week?" McGarrett asked Carew. The
phone rang and once more interrupted the meeting.
"McGarrett."
"We must be officially in business,
Steve. I'm calling you from our new phone in our new office."
The bright voice brought an instant smile to
McGarrett's face. "I guess that makes it legitimate, Danno." He took
a seat on the edge of the desk.
Grinning, Duke called in a loud voice,
"Nice to know you're finally earning your pay after --" he consulted
the desk clock, "after
"Did you hear that, Danno?"
"Yeah, and tell him --" McGarrett
smiled and gave the phone to Lukela.
Williams was saying, " . . . in this
business I don't have to keep killer hours. Yet."
"Only a few more months, Danny, and I
will be retired and laughing at my friends who are hard at work," Lukela
warned and handed the phone back to McGarrett.
"Listen, Steve, I have to swing over to
a place on Beritania later. Shall we meet for a late
lunch around two?"
"Sure. You want to come by here?"
"Uh -- no -- uh, why don't we meet over
at Nick's?"
"Fine," McGarrett said quickly to
cover his foot in his mouth. He knew Danno did not want to come here ever
again. To smooth over the embarrassment, he changed the subject. "I
thought we needed to discuss Shelly," he said off-handedly. THAT would
give his partner something to stew on for a few hours.
Duke muttered, "I've seen Shelly."
"Oh," Williams answered, his voice
a little weak. "See you at two."
For several minutes after Williams hung up,
McGarrett, now amused, stayed on the desk, thinking about the best way to use
the uninhibited Shelly as ammunition to tease his friend. Seriously, their
arrangements would have to be modified. Five-0 still looked bad after Alika's smear campaign. McGarrett had to be careful of the
image he portrayed -- and a nude swimmer staying at his house was not what he
needed for his image.
"Steve, what about the governor's
luncheon?"
McGarrett forcibly brought his thoughts back
to the meeting. "What?"
"The luncheon."
He came to an impulsive decision. "I'll
be out of the office the rest of the day," he said. Only out of the corner
of his eye did he catch surprised expressions from his new detectives.
"We can handle things," Duke
assured.
McGarrett didn't have to explain to Lukela.
He DIDN'T explain to the others. He didn't have to, he was the boss.
*****
"It's coming along nicely," Steve
commented as he walked through the office filled with building materials for
custom renovation. The large room was empty, but was sun-filled from two long
glass doors which opened onto a lanai overlooking Koko Marina.
"Steve!" Williams popped from
behind a shelf, nearly hitting his head on a board.
"It looks better all the time,
Danno."
Williams dusted his hands off on his jeans.
He gestured toward the phones on opposite sides of the room, placed on the
floor. "Yeah. Furniture is going to be late, so we have to use the floor
until Friday."
This office was the new home of AIKANE
SECURITY CONSULTANTS. Located on the second floor of a small professional
building, McGarrett could easily imagine bright Hawaiian paintings on the
walls. Danno insisted he picked the cheery setting because of the cheaper rent
outside of
In the last few weeks their security firm
had really started to roll. There were a lot of details to cover when starting
a new business and Steve had found the venture an invigorating and fresh
challenge. While Williams was making most of the decisions, McGarrett couldn't
help but involve himself in many aspects of the enterprise. It offered him
something different. It also gave him an opportunity to work on a new level
with his friend. He was pleased to find Williams had an impressive flair for
creative organization. It made McGarrett wonder what it would have been like to
have Danno there on the ground floor of Five-0's inception. Probably not much
different. He would not have surrendered control to anyone those long years
ago. That he was stepping aside, more or less, to let Danno have the power now
was a testament to how McGarrett had mellowed over the years. Or a tribute to
how good it was to work within a partnership.
"I take it you won't want me to cancel
the lease?"
The obviously wry statement brought the tug
of a shadow-smile to McGarrett's face. "No. I like it."
McGarrett thought he could not have chosen
any better. The place was roomy, with lots of light coming in the windows. The
lanai, essential addition for any place McGarrett frequented, was an extra
touch of class. The location, aside from the perfect view, was only minutes
from the beach house.
"So, why did you drop in? I thought we
were meeting for lunch." Williams asked as he stepped onto the lanai.
"Just checking up on my
investment," was McGarrett's reply.
"Oh. I thought you were playing
hooky."
Slightly exasperated, McGarrett nearly flung
a snide comment back to his cocky friend. Thinking better of the sharp words,
he knew Williams was right. McGarrett resisted acknowledging the frequent
comments because he did not want to admit his disillusionment with Five-0.
There was no good reason why he refused to admit the truth to his friend.
Williams obviously could tell McGarrett's avoidance of the office was
progressively worse with each passing case.
"Just a stressful morning,"
McGarrett conceded. "Problems -- you know."
"Or detectives?" Williams probed.
McGarrett shrugged. "Kimo is a real hard-head sometimes."
"I don't know why you take that from
him, Steve. You're the boss, he's a new detective. Push him into line."
Defensively, McGarrett said, "He'll
come around."
"Why put up with the aggravation?"
Instantly Williams regretted the remark.
Putting McGarrett in the middle was unfair. Literally and verbally Williams
backed off, irritated at himself for overstepping their preconceived DMZ. For
sheer emotional survival purposes, he had requested they not discuss Five-0
business. Still, months after Jin Wu, he found it difficult to accept his
position as an outsider. McGarrett did not accept interference from anyone,
even Dan. As always, Steve ran the police unit his way and NO ONE was allowed
to crowd that authority. That Williams was able to hand out opinions and advice
spoke of the singular tolerance afforded the former detective.
"Sorry, I don't mean to be critical."
McGarrett waved away to the apology.
"You're just offering your opinionated view," was his light
rejoinder. More seriously, he admitted, "You're watching out for me."
He grinned. "My personal psychologist."
"Yeah. Flexible office hours. If you
need to talk, you know my Mustang is always available."
"Deal. Now, let's go to lunch. We'll
have to find out what's good around here. Someplace we can take our time and
talk. By the way, I found you a cheap place to rent in my neighborhood."
"I'm moving out?"
"You were right, Danno, you need your
own space. We'll talk over lunch. And about Shelly . . . ."
As McGarrett walked back into the office,
Williams shook his head and smiled. McGarrett could no more be a consultant
than
Continued in:
THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT
PART THREE
The Scars of the Dragon