THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT
PART ONE
This
special DANNO WHERE ARE YOU section starts immediately after the
episode's dramatic climax at the airport. These pivotal events begin in the
eleventh season, with far-reaching consequences. They are the foundation and
explanation of the curious disappearance of Dan Williams in the twelfth season.
Sensationally beginning in October of 1978, life-altering incidents affect the
Five-0 characters in 1979 and beyond . . . . . .
TALONS
OF THE DRAGON
by GM
**********************************
EXCERPT
FROM DEADLY COURIER
***********************************
Keyed
with sharp tension, McGarrett overlooked the airport from the second floor
lanai lounge area. The vantage point commanded a clear vista of the walkway on
the bottom level and the twin escalators connecting the levels. Confused and
alerted by two bizarre and inexplicable phenomenons;
Dan Williams leaving his post; the courier knocked out and the briefcase
stolen. Steve wasn't sure what was going on and didn't stop to seek an
explanation. From his angle, he observed several men rushing through the
concourse, one with a black briefcase, broken handcuffs still attached. He
called to Duke and some patrolmen to stop the thieves.
At
that same moment McGarrett noticed Dan riding up the escalator, a Chinese woman
clinging to his arm. A quick glance told Steve something was terribly wrong
with Williams. After Lukela had recovered the courier's attaché case, McGarrett
directed his full attention to Danno.
The
woman issued harsh, urgently whispered commands to Williams. Face pale, sweaty
and tight with confusion, Danno appeared ill. There were faint bruises around
his temples, cheeks and eyes -- the eyes shone glassy with disorientation.
McGarrett froze from inaction; from bewilderment, from a premonition of
disaster gripping him in paralyzing fear. Dan and the woman reached the landing
and confronted McGarrett.
"Danno!'
As
if fighting with internal demons, Williams seemed to struggle with his own
will. Abruptly he drew his revolver and aimed it at McGarrett!
Steve
jumped back in surprise. "Danno, it's me! It's Steve!"
As
distracting background noise, Steve could hear a blur of shouted commands from
the woman. Concentrating intently on the mind-boggling crisis, he focused only
on his friend. Williams was sweltering and terrified, his weapon held with an
unsteady, nervous grip. Steve issued counter commands for Dan to surrender the
gun. Time suspended. The only reality was the deadly standoff -- his closest
friend aiming a weapon at him.
"Danno,
give me the gun!"
Ever
so slowly he closed the gap between them. As he stepped nearer his confidence
and distress both escalated. Dan looked sick, in pain, and confused. McGarrett
knew -- KNEW -- Williams was not going to shoot. Simultaneously, McGarrett's
fear was also mounting because of the glassy, dazed look in Danno's eyes. The
same look Steve remembered on his own face in the renunciation film, after he
had been tortured, hypnotized and brainwashed by Wo
Fat.
When
Williams came within reach McGarrett grabbed onto the revolver then captured
Williams in his arms. The younger detective was fevered, trembling, and
drenched with sweat. Leaning heavily against Steve's chest, he gasped for air.
"Danno."
"Steve,"
Williams gulped, "I was going -- "
"No
you weren't," McGarrett interrupted quickly, as calmly as he could. His
own heart was racing with remnants of fear and disorientation. Embracing his
friend in a death-grip hold, he used his strength to calm Dan's shivering.
"I
was going to kill you --"
"No
you weren't," McGarrett insisted firmly, certainly. He didn't want Danno
to say, to think what had never been a possibility. Steve would never believe
it! Dan would never, under any circumstances kill him.
It was just not possible. Steve knew that. He would have to make sure Dan
believed that as well.
"You all right? Danno?" He kept a
tight grip around Dan for several minutes. They were both shaky and unsteady
and Steve was reluctant to let go of his friend. A quick glance toward the end
of the terminal showed McGarrett that the woman had been captured by Enslow, the State Department intelligence officer
responsible for the courier. Enslow also had the
courier's briefcase. Duke rushed up and took the Oriental women into custody.
**********************************
EXCERPT FROM DEADLY COURIER
***********************************
The
technical details of the case in other hands, Steve's attention returned
exclusively to his friend. He pocketed the .38 and tightly restrained Dan with
both arms, pressing the curly head against his chest. McGarrett continued to
reassure his friend that everything would be all right.
There
was a sudden shift of the body -- a dead weight in his arms -- collapsing.
Gently the older man laid Williams onto the floor. It took a few seconds for
mental alarms to sound, for him to register that Dan had stopped breathing!
Steve pressed a hand to the pale neck, to the cold, damp wrist. Holding his
palm against the still chest, he frantically sought a heartbeat. His own heart
seemed to skip a beat when he could not find a sign of life within the inert
body.
Then
suddenly a heartbeat thumped against McGarrett's trembling hand. He jumped with
surprise. Quickly he replaced fingers on the carotid artery and a hand on
Williams' chest to verify a beat, although already he could see his friend
breathing again. Steve started to breathe again as well. Slowly Williams' eyes
fluttered open. It took a few seconds for him to comprehend where he was.
Alarmed, he bolted upward.
"Hold
on, Danno," Steve warned. He firmly pressed back on Williams' shoulder
until the younger detective rested on the floor again. "You're not going
anywhere."
"How
did I get down here?"
"You
collapsed," McGarrett responded curtly, opting to not go into detail.
Williams
was incredulous. "I fainted?"
The
tinge of embarrassment could have been amusing in other circumstances. Still
frightened from the alarming experience, McGarrett's response was grim. "If you want to call it that." Williams slowly
leaned up on his elbow. McGarrett kept a steadying hand on the wan, sweaty,
shaking detective. "You're not going anywhere except the nearest
hospital." Williams fell back against McGarrett without offering an
argument. Steve protectively held him until medical aid arrived.
During
the ambulance ride McGarrett felt like a zombie. Insulated in his own sense of
shock, his dazed mind snagged onto a terrible, unavoidable theory. Danno had
been brainwashed, the proof evident from the abnormal behavior and condition of
Williams: The heart failure, the near-shooting, the shock. On the inside of
Williams' arms were countless bruises and needle marks. Steve also noticed
discoloration and abrasions around the detective's wrists and face. He grimly
studied the needle pocks and contusions. Clear indications of
imprisonment and torture. Involuntarily, he winced, haunted whispers and
ghostly images misted into his memory -- foggy tendrils of Wo
Fat.
Pacing
the halls of the hospital gave McGarrett ample time for reflection. He elected
to put his mind to work on some problem, however revolting, to keep thoughts
off the frightening realities of what had happened at the airport.
Brainwashing. They had seen it before. Steve had experienced it from Wo Fat. The first courier, Sherman, had been a recent victim
-- now Danno. Psycho-hypnotic drugs, torture, sleep deprivation -- it sickened
him to know it had all happened to Williams in the short course of a night and
a morning. Also revolting were the theories threading through his mind. He
understood first hand what Dan had gone through. What made it more painful was
the idea that Dan was an innocent to such mental torments. McGarrett had a
certain amount of training from his Naval Intelligence days; preparations for
capture, torture and dealing with the related affects of those traumas. With
those advantages it had been tough enough for him as a POW in
Steve
didn't want to envision any of it, but disgustingly, he knew he would have to
live with it and deal with it now. This second hand bystander role was in some
ways worse than being the casualty. As the victim, he could handle his own
suffering. Now, he had to watch his close friend endure all the anguish of
post-torture. Sometimes the psychological aftereffects could be worse than the
initial physical torment.
As
McGarrett reviewed the events of the morning, it was hard to believe
brainwashing had happened at all. Dan had acted so normal -- the joking, the
assignment, the lie that his undercover visit to the import company had been
uneventful.
'Some
detective,' Steve thought derisively
of himself, 'I never observed Danno close enough to see the obvious signs of
torture and drugs! I shouldn't have let him go alone,' McGarrett
recriminated.
"Use a cover, this gang is lethal," he had told Dan. Then he had not insisted on any
follow up or back up! Careless and unforgivably stupid! Closing shop, he'd
stopped by to see the Governor, then spent the night
on his boat! While Danno was being tortured, he was out in the channel watching
the
"Use a cover, this gang is
lethal."
What
did he think -- Danno could call if he got into trouble? After Chin's fatal
undercover assignment just a few months ago, how could he make such a blind
mistake?
Duke
quietly joined him in the hospital waiting room and reported the Oriental woman
was in holding at HPD. Enslow said she was a known
Chinese spy. Steve had lost sight of the whole reason for this chain of events.
The operation now seemed meaningless, overshadowed by the personal tragedy still
unfolding.
In
a curt, cryptic monotone, Steve explained the situation to Duke. Lukela had
already guessed much of what had occurred. He was subdued and responded in few
woods. There was nothing to say, really. Duke had been through this after
McGarrett's last encounter with Wo Fat. Having it
happen to Dan on their home turf was frightening and a bit incomprehensible. It
would take time for them to come through the shock.
At
a brisk, business-like pace, a doctor emerged from the examination room. The
physician mask was set firmly in place. Steve felt his blood drain away, an
automatic response of expecting the worst and trying to brace himself to accept it.
"I'm
glad you warned me about the drugs," the doctor said blandly. "We
could have killed him if we pumped him with the wrong stuff on top of these
unknown substances. Blood samples are at the lab now. We ought to know by
tomorrow -- "
"Is
he all right?" McGarrett cut in.
"As
far as his physical condition goes, yes, he should recover completely. He's sleeping
now, doing okay."
A
long, unsteady sigh was released from McGarrett. "Why did his heart
stop?"
The
doctor shrugged. "I suspect a side-effect of the drugs. We'll monitor him.
Might take a few days for the drug toxicity to wear off.
There's still trace elements of the unknown toxin --
we're alert for aftereffects. He's slightly disoriented and running a fever
now, so I'm keeping him for observation at least overnight. No problems so far
aside from the minor symptoms I mentioned." The physician paused, then
from McGarrett's pensive expression he continued. "Exhaustion and some
minor bruising are nothing serious. I wouldn't worry about the drugs. A night
in the hospital, then he'll probably be hitting the beach tomorrow."
"Thank
you," McGarrett tersely dismissed. He turned to Duke. "Put a guard
with Danno, just in case." It seemed like locking the barn door after the
horse had escaped, but he was going to take no chances with his friend's
safety.
*****
Steve
stayed with Williams as the restlessly slumbering detective was wheeled into a
private room. For some time McGarrett watched his friend twitch, groan and
toss. The silent observation helped keep his mind occupied. There was a real
reluctance to stray beyond the moment. He did not want to think of the future
and knew it was because he dreaded what lurked there. Afraid the doctor was
wrong; he feared a fatal relapse, or side effects from the drugs. Steve also
feared facing the gritty aftermath, the reality, of recovery from torture and
the demeaning, humiliating acts performed against the will. Recuperation meant
a whole new brand of torture and self-examination. Danno would have to go
through that painful process and McGarrett would be right there with him, going
through his torment, and the memories of his own convalescence three years ago
-- ten years ago -- with Wo Fat. Now, faced with his
reaction in this crisis, he wondered how much he had really recovered.
*****
Just
before McGarrett's arrival at Seaside Import-Export Co., the crime scene
investigators discovered the door to a hidden passage in the back room of the
shop. Stiff with tension, McGarrett warily entered the high tech laboratory. It
made his skin crawl to think of the cold, efficient equipment here; sterile and
empty, used last night to crush his friend's mind and will.
Unbidden,
comparisons flew into his thoughts. This, however, was not the dingy, dirty,
rat-infested cell which had been Wo Fat's prison in
The
crime team bustled around the room cataloging evidence, snapping pictures and
lifting prints. McGarrett was careful not to touch anything. Not solely for the
sake of preserving evidence, but because he couldn't stomach the thought of
coming in contact with the gruesome instruments. The straps --stained with dark
smudges -- which had bound Dan's wrists. The hypodermics filled with milky
liquid, the needles discolored with blood. He assigned an officer to send all
drugs to the hospital for immediate testing. Maybe they could get some answers
to help Dan's recovery. Aside from keeping the evidence intact there was the
need to distance himself from the physical reality of
the torture scene. Beyond the cleanliness and electronic wizardry, spectres of
grimy, dirt-smudged walls and skittering rats lurked in the grottos of his
mind. Always in the deepest recesses of his thoughts there loomed the menacing
shadow of Wo Fat.
*****
Morbid
fascination and a compulsion to overcome the pressing anxiety impelled
McGarrett to leave for HPD. Lukela handled the booking of the prisoner and had
started initial interrogation. Duke was out in the hallway pacing when
McGarrett arrived. The head of Five-0 could see at a glance that the Hawaiian
was seething with anger. It took something nasty for the redoubtable veteran
Lukela to lose control of his temper.
"This
kind of thing makes me wish we could throw away the rule book," Duke
snapped out tightly, his voice ragged with emotion. "Enslow
sent one of his State Department minions over," Lukela said with contempt.
"The guy's name is Webb and he's putting a gag order on this whole thing,
Steve. I don't like it."
Steve
sympathized with the roiling feelings. When someone as close as Danno was hurt
it was tough to see beyond the rudimentary passion for vengeance. They needed
more than ever to lean on the law now, to keep them from sinking to the level
of the animals they were pursuing.
"I
know, Duke," McGarrett agreed warily. "I know. Where is the
dragon-lady?"
Lukela
jerked his head toward the door behind his back. "Reynolds and Hokala are sweating her now. I couldn't stand it
anymore."
"She
won't cooperate?"
"Keeps
giving us the phony name Marla Kahuana and insists
she doesn't know anything about Danny or the courier." His eyes narrowed
with contempt. "She's solid, Steve, like a block of ice. Like a pro."
McGarrett
motioned to the next doorway. They entered the small room where, through a one
way mirror, they could view the interrogation. Several detectives were already
in the observation room recording and monitoring the session. Steve and Duke
slid to the back of the room.
It
was amazing how chill and controlled the woman was, McGarrett thought. Just her
bearing and superior attitude made him want to slug her right in the face and
break the icy facade. He knew it was an instinctive, barbaric reaction, but he
felt it all the same. Underneath her perfect, affected mask was cloaked the
heart and mind of a beast and he wanted nothing more than to confront that
vicious dragon on her own savage level. As he had often wanted to confront Wo Fat with no rules or laws confining him.
With
some surprise he realized his hate for Wo Fat was in
the past-tense. His memories of the spy master were still intense and charred
with contempt, but it was historic. The revulsion for Marla was in the present,
real and fired with vivid hatred. Presented in this perspective, McGarrett
realized that he was truly recovered from his mind-control ordeals. The
memories, the emotional detris still lingered, but
more like an occasionally recurring fear, not the waking nightmare that
shadowed him for so long. The realization lent him a sense of strength, which
he would have to call upon in helping Williams through the upcoming recovering
period.
He
refocused on the porcelain-like mask/face of Kahuana.
This she-beast had been restricted by no morals, ethics or humanity in her
treatment of Danno. Did she deserve anything better? With a regretful sigh
McGarrett knew that she would receive better treatment whether or not it was
deserved. One of the patrolmen who helped at the airport, Paul Nakamura, joined
them at the back.
"Makes
me sick," he spat out. "I heard they ran her prints through
Washington and Interpol, top priority. Nothing so far.
And she's not lettin' anythin'
slip. Wish a few of us could go in there for a few minutes off the record with
her!"
There
were no words of comfort to offer in response. McGarrett agreed with the officer's
attitude and feelings. He guessed the HPD officer, involved in events from the
shocking beginning at the airport, was ready to take this woman out and shoot
her. Williams was considered ohana at HPD. If word spread about the
torture there probably wouldn't be an officer in the building who would want to
play fair with the Chinese woman known as Marla Kahuana.
Somehow that thought held no comfort. To the involved officers' credit, they
had all followed procedure and played by the rules of the land so far.
A
few more minutes of listening to Kahuana's
answers-by-rote and Steve was angry enough to go in the interrogation room
himself. He didn't know what he could accomplish, but he felt compelled to meet
with her face to face. Stopped by a knock at the door, he was pleasantly
surprised when John Manicote, the State's Attorney
General, entered the room. He should have known Manicote
would rally behind them in this crisis. John was a friend to the Five-0 group.
Steve
appreciatively shook hands. "You're moving fast on this one, John. Mahalo."
Manicote
bit his lip. He glanced through the glass at Marla, then back at McGarrett.
"How's Danny?"
"By
the grace of God it looks like he'll be all right," was the terse reply.
Steve couldn't bring himself to offer cover-up clichés. It would be awhile
before Dan -- any of them -- would recover from this.
"Steve,"
John began hesitantly, "We've got a complication to Ms. Kahuana's arrest."
Steve's
mind instantly flooded with a string of technicalities which might have snagged
the arrest. Didn't they Mirandize her? Did State want
to claim her as their prize? McGarrett stilled the flood of doubts racing
through his mind.
"What
complication, John?" It was a harsh challenge.
Again, visible hesitation. To John's credit, he continued to look McGarrett
straight in the eye. "I've been contacted by the Chinese Embassy. Ms. Kahuana is an undersecretary with their staff."
McGarrett
felt his blood run cold. "What exactly does that mean?" Every word
was enunciated as if cut off by sword's blade. "If she's a member of their
staff," he continued icily, "what was she doing running the Seaside
Import Company?"
"She
owns an interest in the company. Look, Steve, it doesn't matter what the
details are she is on the diplomatic staff of the Chinese Embassy!" His
voice was sharp and loud, a reaction of his own anger and frustration. "Do
I have to spell it out for you?"
Voice
and hands shaking, McGarrett clenched his fists into tight balls to counteract
the violent rage building inside him. In frightening contrast, his voice was
silkily cold and deadly. "Do you mean to tell me she has diplomatic
immunity?"
"Yes."
"NO!"
"Steve
--"
McGarrett
exploded. "Do you know what she did, John? What she did to Danno --"
"Steve
--"
"She
can' t get away with this!" McGarrett shoved past
Manicote toward the door.
"She's
not, Steve! Not exactly." Manicote
he took a breath for courage. "We've demanded her deportation."
"Deportation? No way, John!"
"Steve!"
Manicote had a grip on McGarrett's arm to keep the
detective from rushing from the room. It was a one-sided struggle since Manicote was nearly a foot shorter than the head of Five-0,
and motivated by justice instead of his opponent's passion. "Steve, it's
done. Webb from State is escorting her to the airport." He was dragged
along to the doorway as he continued to cling to McGarrett's arm. "It's
out of our hands, Steve!"
During
Manicote's entreaties an HPD officer, a Chinese
gentleman and Webb -- a tall, thin, dark-haired man, sober and stiff in his government issue three-piece suit -- entered the
interrogation room. Webb, an operative of Enslow's
shadow-staff from State Department intelligence, spoke to Kahuanu
in Chinese. McGarrett watched through the one-way glass as Marla coolly, regally,
rose from her chair and exited the room. McGarrett broke free of Manicote, lunged out the door and into the hall, nearly
colliding with the two Chinese.
Standing
just a few feet in front of him, Marla was small, petite and exuding tangible
waves of disdain and lethal danger. For Steve, the air fairly crackled with
intensity and venom as they stared at each other. Completely aware of his anger
and hatred for her, she, in turn, was filled with loathing and contempt for
him.
"You're
not going anywhere. Diplomatic immunity be
damned!"
Webb
stepped forward and tried to push McGarrett away. Almost eye to eye, Steve
stared him down, silently communicating he meant business.
"Give
it up, McGarrett. Her release is signed, she's out of
your hands." The Five-0 detective did not budge. "You want me to get
the governor for you, McGarrett? We've all got orders, now follow yours instead
of making trouble. You can't win."
Fists
balled with rage, he stepped to the wall.
"Don't
forget me," she silkily whispered as she walked close. "I have the
feeling we will meet again, Mr. McGarrett."
There
was no subtlety in his returning threat. "Oh, I promise I'll never forget
you. And I sincerely hope we do meet again." Between words he ground his
teeth in a struggle for control. He fought to keep his voice steady. Although
he was aware he had already lost the battle, he would not show an ounce of
surrender to the enemy. "I hope it's here in
There
was no fear or intimidation in her wide, dark eyes. Challenge and dismissal
rippled beyond the falsely-serene mask. "It is not I who will need
protection, Mr. McGarrett." Offering the slightest bow of her head she
whispered, "I leave you my legacy. Remember there is no defense against
the talons of the dragon." Then she literally turned up her nose and
walked away with the aide.
"Can
they get away with this, Steve?" Duke asked, the
misery and betrayal clear in his voice.
"They
haven't yet," he responded with fire. "I'm calling the State
Department."
"Don' t bother," Webb interrupted. With an air of
dismissal he gave a nod to the group to proceed. Stepping back to confront the
officers, he revealed, "She's in my custody, McGarrett. Stay out of it.
Accept your losses and mind your own business." Then he walked away to
join his charge at the stairs.
"Steve,"
Manicote interrupted, "where do you think the
deportation order came from? I just got off the phone with Jonathan Kaye before
I came here."
Ignoring
the comments McGarrett stalked down the hall. He had suspected Kaye was
involved -- the Pentagon intelligence officer always seemed entangled with this
cloak and dagger stuff. McGarrett would still call. It would probably change
nothing, but he had to fight through every option. How could he ever face Dan,
or himself, without taking this to the limit? It went against everything he
believed in, everything he was feeling now, to let Kahuanu
-- or whatever her name was -- walk. It was as revolting to him as when he had
been forced to let Wo Fat escape on several occasions.
He would do everything he could to keep history from repeating itself this
time.
*****
McGarrett
returned to the office in a barely contained fury. His call to Jonathan Kaye in
Frustrated
beyond words, Steve telexed Marla's prints to a valuable old friend in
Lukela
arrived to offer support and commiseration in their mutual aggravation. The
facade of activity was pathetic -- Steve simply could not concentrate. There
had never been a failure quite like this one -- such a personal failure. He
didn't know how to cope with it. By evening he finally ordered Duke to go home.
Lukela commented he could not sit around and do nothing and opted for the
pistol range to work out his anger on some helpless targets.
To
work off his own seething rage Steve went home, changed, and jogged down to
The
first quiet time allowed during the agonizing day, Steve knew it was a mistake.
The pause in tempo and energy left him time to think. The terrors which crowded
his thoughts were the fearful memories of Dan holding the pistol on him -- the
terrifying instant when Dan had momentarily died. The heartbeat had stopped
only briefly, but still, he had died.
Tears
welled in Steve's eyes. The aftermath of fear, the sense of loss, was catching
up to him. Savagely, Steve swiped at the tears with a shaky hand. He knew this
was his delayed reaction to the trauma. Still, he hated to lose control because
one crack in the resolve could lead to his barricades collapsing.
No,
he couldn't allow himself to crumble because then he would have to really face
the stark horror of Dan's brainwashing and near-death and he could not handle
that yet. Escape -- he had to get out. Too much thinking was dangerous.
Impulsively he drove out to his beach house in Aina Haina. For hours he walked the strip of sand around
*****
When
he reached the nurse' s station he unexpectedly met
the cool, tactless Dr. McBride. The thin, thorny, sour psychiatrist who had
investigated the
"I
think your Mr. Williams is going to have a hard time coming out of this."
Warily,
he asked, "You've talked to him?"
"Yes,
however, he has not responded well. He is uncommunicative," McBride
returned sharply.
McGarrett's
defenses sprang up full force. This prickly shrink was insensitive and
uncooperative. She was much colder and harsher than previous psychiatrists who
had worked with Five-0 years before. Never in a mood to hone his people-skills,
he wouldn't bother to waste time working on tact.
Steve
mounted an offensive. "A bit of a snap judgment, don't you think? He's
gone through a hell of a nightmare!"
"You
saw
Incensed,
Steve took it as a personal affront that she would attack his friend. After
all, she was not only an outsider, but a psychiatrist/minion of the State
Department! She had no business making spot evaluations of Danno. Williams
probably didn't respond because he had had enough of probing women!
"You
mean you gave him more hypnotic drugs?" he asked dangerously. "Because he won't talk to you?"
"Psychological
treatment is not in your purview, Mr. McGarrett. The State Department
authorized any means I thought advisable for Williams and Sherman. Hypnosis is
common -- "
"You
back off, doctor! Leave Dan Williams alone! He's been through enough without
your meddling!"
"You
don't have the authority --"
"He's
my officer! You can do whatever you think you need to about
Glaring
daggers at him, McBride promised repercussions over the dictatorial attitude
and rude treatment. Considering his disposition unprofessional, she declared
the conflict was not over. Angry at the dismissal (she had NEVER been treated
like this!), she implied she had retrieved enough information for now, agreed
to a temporary stay of evaluation, but insisted she WOULD question William
again.
When
Steve entered the private room he was shaking with rage. He quietly stepped to
the bed and for a moment just watched his friend. Perhaps silence was Dan's
form of coping. A reaction Steve could empathize with. Dan needed to have some
time and distance from all the mind games. Even the defensive posture of facing
the wall gave Williams the image of a wounded soul cowering from the world.
After
a deep breath, Steve gently tapped the detective's shoulder. "Danno?"
There
was no response. From the tone of the breathing he could tell Dan was awake.
Worried, McGarrett firmly pressed his hand to his friend's hot, sweaty arm.
"Danno. I know you probably don't feel much like talking. That'
s okay. I want you to know I'm here." He waited for a few minutes.
The silence worried him. He tried to instill all the sincerity and concern he
felt into his voice. "I want to know you re okay."
What
he wanted to say was, 'Don't close me out, please. I need you to include me so
we can work this out together.'
Williams'
hands covered his face. His voice was muffled, but unmistakably cracked with
emotion. "I tried to kill you."
"No
you didn't!" Steve snapped back. "You didn't do anything!"
Drawing a breath he tried to steady his own nerves. He had to approach this
with calm, gentle persuasion. Dan was on the very edge of emotional hysteria.
Steve had completely misjudged the depth of trauma to his friend. He had come
here for reassurance for himself, and to reassure Dan all was well now that the
danger was past. Steve had not rationally accepted that the worst was still
ahead.
"I
aimed the gun --"
"Danno,"
he interrupted firmly, "I know YOU. That's all I need to know. You would
never hurt me. Never! Whatever happened wasn't your fault. You were
brainwashed." Forcing his tone to be trusting and reasonable, he had to
make Danno see nothing had changed. Nothing had shaken his complete confidence
in his friend. "You are not to blame."
"You
can't ever trust me again
"That's
not true. You had no control. That's what you told me in
"That
was different."
Tired
of being ignored, McGarrett went around to the other side of the bed. He pulled
up a chair and sat directly in front of Williams. Gently he moved Dan's hands
away so he could look into his friend's face. The blue eyes would not make
contact, but they were as transparent as windows into the deepest emotions of
the heart. There was terrible pain there; an utter exhaustion of body and soul,
a fathomless agony. Steeling himself, McGarrett pressed on. If he did not get
through this now they would never bridge the gap. There would forever be a rift
in the most valuable friendship he had ever known. McGarrett would not allow
that.
"You
were drugged, tortured, brainwashed, and forced to perform a degrading act of
betrayal. How is that different than what happened to me?"
There
it was, out in the open with a non-stop run of words. Before he could think the
confession/interrogation had taken a disturbing, self-exposing turn. Part of
him wanted to race away, flee out the door and escape this all-too-exposing
conference of honesty. The other part, the better, big-brother part of him,
refused to leave the field and abandon his fallen ally.
"I
tried to kill you!" The words were wrenched out of Williams' torn heart.
For the first time Dan looked at him. Tears spilled out of the tortured blue
eyes and onto the pillow . The voice reflected pure
agony. "I betrayed YOU!"
Shaking
uncontrollably, Dan pulled his hands free of Steve's grasp and covered his
face, then burrowed into the pillow again and cried. Each sob was like a knife
blade slashing at McGarrett's exposed soul; opening old wounds left by Wo Fat, deepening new wounds left by Danno's ordeal.
Not
knowing what else to do Steve impulsively reached over and placed his hands
over Dan's. It was the only comfort he was capable of rendering. They were
beyond the shallowness of words. They shared a mutual need to be reassured and
McGarrett was the only one capable of relating on this level of Williams'
anguish, the only one who could possibly help his violated friend.
It
was several minutes before the sobs subsided into quiet hicoughs
and finally into deep, shuddering sighs. Williams placed one of his hands over
Steve's. For a long time he made no attempt to move. Even when gentle snores
indicated Dan had fallen asleep, the link was not broken.
*****
It
was after
The
canal was a dark sheet of undulating, satin-like watery ribbon which shone in a
sparkling sheen under the lunar light. In the other direction he could see tiny
house and street lights pinpointed at the foot of
In
the early morning hours he dozed to sleep in his chair, his feet propped up on
the railing. Disturbed by intangible nightmares of Wo
Fat; of Marla, of Dan shooting him, Steve awoke stiff, disturbed and fatigued.
Faint
tinges of pink outlined the black silhouette of
Changing
into jogging clothes he left the apartment, hoping to run out his distorted
confusion. Deciding change might help clear his thoughts he jogged a stretch of
beach on
The
sky was now light although the sun would not clear the hotel skyline for a
while. There were a number of walkers and joggers out enjoying the morning on a
uniquely empty
At
The
pace now ruined, he caught his breath and jogged back along the street. Dodging
the thickening morning traffic, he made his way back to the canal and down to
his apartment. The scenic beauty of the morning had been shattered.
Now
his mind was filled with the spectres which had never really left, but had been
temporarily pushed aside. Since Dan's ordeal, wraiths had haunted McGarrett and
he could not ignore them nor hide from them. They were ghosts of his own torture, brainwashing, bitterness, anger and
humiliation. Wo Fat was still out there somewhere as an unresolved threat, a
ghost still capable of hauntings. Danno would share
the same fate and McGarrett seemed destined to relive this unresolved justice
all over again.
*****
McGarrett
stopped at Williams' apartment and picked out some casual clothes. He arrived
at the hospital as breakfast trays were being cleared. Steve approached the
door of William's room and nearly collided with a nurse. She was a short,
pretty Hawaiian girl and was laughing when she stepped into McGarrett.
She
blushed. "I'm sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."
Steve
grinned. "Had your mind on your patient?"
The
nurse's blush deepened. "You must be Mr. McGarrett," she countered,
neatly avoiding his question. "I was warned about you." She threw her
head back in a gesture indicating the room. "Nobody warned me about your
friend. I'm sorry he's being released today."
With
that cryptic comment the latest Williams' conquest left. Amused, McGarrett
wondered; who had alerted her, and what was his reputation which warranted a
warning to hospital staff? When he peaked into the room he was pleased to see
Williams dressed in hospital-issue robe, impatiently pacing the room. He seemed
healthy, energetic and completely recovered from the physical affects of the
day before. It was a positive, delightful scene entirely different from the
dark memories of the night before. Clearly, Williams' recovery was as dramatic
as his breakdown and McGarrett couldn't have asked for better medicine for his
own gloom.
"Giving
the nurses trouble?"
"Steve!"
McGarrett
laid the folded clothes at the end of the bed. "Thought
you might need these."
"Thanks.
I can't wait to get out of here."
Standing
to the side of the bed, Steve observed the meal tray was still full, the food
pushed around on the plate, but not eaten. He also noticed Dan was reacting
just slightly off mark --odd -- a little nervous.
Williams
paced the room and finally took a perch on the end of the bed. McGarrett
wondered if his friend was uncomfortable at his arrival. Perhaps it was a
unique reaction to the brainwashing -- a resistance to conformity and
conventional behavior. A residual physical reaction to the
potent drugs, whatever they had been. On closer inspection, Steve noted
his friend's face was darkly accented by eye-shadows and lines from fatigue and
stress. The physical evidence hit home to Steve that it would take more than
just a few days of R&R for his friend to physically bounce back from this
blow.
When
McGarrett returned from his POW experience, he had displayed odd quirks. To
this day he could not think in a closed room. He was constantly seeking windows
and looking outside. Imprisonment had left him with an odd kind of
claustrophobia. He would have to be alert for those new idiosyncrasies in Dan.
"How
are you doing, Danno?"
"Fine,
fine," he assured glibly. His tone suddenly dropped to a subdued, quiet,
regretful recollection. "I know last night was scary. I don't remember a
lot. What I do remember --" he stopped and stared at his hands for a
moment. Just for a second his eyes seemed vacant, then
they cleared. "It was pretty emotional and -- frightening." His face blushed a deep red. "Sorry. The doctor said my emotions
are going to be unstable for a few days."
'Unstable
hardly covered it,' instantly leaped
to mind. Vocally, McGarrett waved away the apology. "It was the drugs,
Danno. Don't let it bother you. What's important is how you feel now."
"Fine,"
he said instantly. At McGarrett's skeptical look Dan sheepishly amended the
statement. "Well, a little shaky. And I really ache. Leftovers from the
drugs and -- and torture, I guess."
Stumbling
over mention of the torture was another sign that Dan had a lot of readjustments
ahead. McGarrett was also wary of the bouncing emotions and non-stop prattle of
his colleague. The cheery over-compensation was starting to worry him.
McGarrett
stood beside Williams. "You seem much better," he responded
optimistically.
After
a moment of thought Dan was embarrassed again. "Did I say something pupule
last night? I'm really sorry." His still pale face blushed again.
"There are a few heavy bits of melodrama I remember, I was hoping they
belonged to some terrible dream."
With
easy reassurance McGarrett made it clear there was nothing said or done to
worry about. All drug induced and not worth mentioning. Perhaps if Dan was
lucky, the memory would never fully return. As for himself, Steve thought, he
would never forget anything about yesterday or last night.
Bravely,
Dan said, "I remember I tried to kill you."
"Not
you -- "
"Okay,
okay," Dan relinquished with a quirk of a gin, "I DO remember you
drilling it into my skull that this wasn't my fault." Very serious, he
stared into McGarrett's eyes "But it was, Steve. I know yesterday wasn't
the first time I tried to kill you." When McGarrett's expression
registered confusion, Dan quickly explained. "You wore Navy suntans and I
-- I shot you." [MURDER EYES ONLY]
"No!"
Steve sharply denial. "That was a test! Don't you
remember? Dr. Brinkman's experiment -- it was a test!"
Angry
and disturbed, he demanded to know how Williams remembered the years-old
hypnotic demonstration that helped them solve a murder and espionage conspiracy
when they were working with Naval Intelligence. McGarrett was livid when he
learned Dr. McBride discovered the repressed memory of the test through
regressive hypnosis. The psychiatrist had brought back Dan' s
full knowledge of that experiment in mind control, as well as the details of
the torture by Marla Kahuanu. McGarrett found the
methods unforgivable. Danno would have been so much better off if he could
forget.
"Can
you ever forgive me?" Williams plaintively wondered.
Steve
should have anticipated the downward plunge. He tried to keep his own reaction
steadily positive. "There's nothing to forgive, Danno. YOU didn't have
control. You couldn't pull the trigger yesterday because you could never do
anything to hurt me. Ever!" He was almost
shouting and forced himself to back off from the strident, intense reprimand.
Calming, with formidable effort, his voice and demeanor mellowed. "Better
than anyone else I should understand what you' re
going through. Stop blaming yourself, Danno." He gave a slight nod and a raise
of his eyebrow, waiting for confirmation of what he said. "It
was never -- NEVER -- Dan Williams holding that gun on me."
Dan
replied silently with a slow nod. He turned to stare out the window and his
face held a distant quality far removed from the scenery. Clearly he was
thinking through the advice, trying to make it fit his feelings. Finally he
looked back at McGarrett. His eyes, his voice, were haunted "Do you ever
forgive yourself?"
McGarrett
suppressed the urge to squirm under the scrutiny, under the starkness of the
probing question, under the demand for honesty and help from his friend. His
fingers tapped a nervous cadence on the end of the bed.
"Over
time, yes," he responded slowly. A partial truth.
There were still vestiges of guilt trapped in the backwashes of his mind which
he couldn't reconcile. To himself, thought, he had long ago admitted he could
not have done more to fight Wo Fat.
"This
isn't your fault, you know, Steve."
Far
away in time and distance, McGarrett took a moment to come back to the new line
of conversation. He forced his mind away from his own dilemma, his own memories
and into the present.
"What?"
he replied, truly confused. He was having difficulty again keeping up with
Dan's bouncing train of thought.
"You're
going through what I went through. Don't forget, I was once in your same
position," Dan explained. "Blaming myself for Wo
Fat capturing and brainwashing you in
"But
you did help, Danno. As soon as I let you. And I
expect you to let me do the same for you. I don't think we need to examine MY
psyche, either," he said firmly. "One at a time is enough. I just
want to make sure YOU'RE not the one blaming yourself right now."
Uncomfortable
with the truth and honesty game they were playing,
McGarrett backed away and leaned against the window. As usual, Danno had pegged
it right. There was a lot of guilt and blame in his mind. He should have
checked on Dan' s progress, he thought for the
thousandth time. He never should have approved an undercover job without back
up.
That
was how they had lost Chin. [episode -- DEATH IN THE
FAMILY]
Steve
recognized his guilt for an even greater oversight. He had maintained some kind
of blind spot with this undercover business. Since Chin's death on the fateful
undercover assignment not so long ago, Steve had purposely blinded himself to
vulnerabilities of Duke, and especially, Dan. Steve couldn't comprehend that
something could happen to another close friend. Sending Williams on the
assignment and not checking up on his progress was just another way of proving
to himself that everything would be all right. What a fool he had been! His
blindness had proved nearly fatal to his closest friend. He could not handle
losing another team member, especially not Danno.
With
a mental start he realized the interview was entirely too probing and Williams
was suddenly all too perceptive. He guessed it was probably a way for Dan to
focus on other problems than on his own. Steve could relate to that and tried
to do the same thing after his brainwashing. Strange how
their reactions differed. He had pushed everybody away then,
particularly Danno, the one closest to him, the one who should not see all the
flaws. McGarrett had been trying to ignore the incident and thus hoped everyone
else would as well. Dan had never budged, however, and had stuck by him, had
become a constant presence who ignored what had
happened, looking beyond the failures to the core of their friendship.
Not
believing in the need for much psychological detraining, Steve had not done
more than answer a few questions during a physical exam after escaping Wo Fat. After some rocky days between Dan and he, they had reestablished their relationship and McGarrett
settled back into a normal routine. That had been the only detraining he had
needed.
Now,
living similar events from the other side, he wondered if time alone would be
enough for Williams. Steve found himself a little afraid to reach out far
enough to offer any kind of open, unguarded aid. It would be so close to his own emotional scars. He wanted to make sure Williams was
not left with any such scars. He vowed he would do whatever he had to for his
friend. Danno should have the best possible care, including anything he could
do to help.
"Don't
worry, I'll be okay," the younger detective stated, but nothing in his
tone corroborated the assurance.
To
Steve it was like a distant, distorted echo of his own feelings and attitudes
after his encounter with Wo Fat. Williams was
following too closely in the agonizing footsteps Steve had left behind. He had
to do something to knock Williams back on the right mental track. A searing
jolt of honesty seemed a difficult, but obvious choice.
"Did
you ever forgive me for betraying my country?" Steve wondered, turning to
look at Williams.
Dan
scoffed. "Come on, Steve. That wasn't your fault --" He stopped
short, realization transforming his face from skepticism to understanding.
"There's nothing to forgive," he slowly stated. The blue eyes
suddenly misted and expressively betrayed unrestrained affection and gratitude.
Moving closer, he touched his friend's arm. "Thanks."
Too
moved and embarrassed to respond, McGarrett turned back to look out the window;
his constant refuge when things got too stressing or too personal. Williams
made it sound like Steve had done something incredible when all he had done was
spoken from the heart -- a friend concerned for a friend in need.
He
swallowed the lump in his throat, then turned and faced Dan. "I learned
that from a good friend of mine."
Embarrassed,
Dan wiped his hands over his eyes. "Damn drugs make me really
unstable," he explained gruffly. "Dr. McBride said I'll be a basket
case for another few days till my system is cleared."
McGarrett
leaped at the chance to change the subject. "What else did that beast-lady
say?"
Dan
laughed. It was a heartwarming sound and renewed Steve' s
confidence. That natural response showed him everything was going to be all
right. Not too far in the future life would be back to normal.
"What's
the problem with you and McBride?" Williams asked as he sat down on the
bed.
"Nothing,"
Steve minimized with a shrug. "You know how I feel about
psychiatrists."
"Yeah,"
Dan said around a yawn. Leaning his head back he closed his eyes. "You
welcome them like an eruption of
Sudden
fatigue, McGarrett diagnosed. The drugs again, he realized as Williams' head
drooped. Dan's mood and energy swings were going to be tough to handle for the
next few days.
*****
As
McGarrett drove to the office he rolled down the windows and breathed in the
fresh morning air. Feeling revitalized and uplifted, he never noticed how
weighted down he had been with concern for his friend. Now his mind could be
channeled into other areas since it was freed from the intense worry over
Williams' immediate condition.
One
of the first focuses would be the source of this misfortune, Marla Kahuanu. Freed by the State Department meant nothing to
him. She was still Steve's personal target. He tried to keep apprised of Wo Fat's whereabouts, now the woman would be on his hit
list.
Duke
and the secretaries were in the large open area when Steve barreled though to
his own office. Lukela trailed in behind.
"Danny?"
he asked brightly, already guessing the answer.
McGarrett
smiled. "Much improved. I'm springing him this afternoon. He's already
flirting with the nurses."
Duke
grinned. "That's our boy." Seriously, he asked, "He'll be all
right?"
"Fine,
Duke, fine," Steve sighed. "Thankfully."
He checked over the papers on his desk. From years of experience as an HPD
sergeant, Duke was an excellent administrator -- much better than the
less-than-perfect paperwork Williams got away with. Duke had organized and
prioritized several important files on the top of the McGarrett's desk.
"There' s Dr. McBride’s report on the top," he
summarized. "The HPD and State Department reports are at the bottom."
"What
do they have to say?"
Duke
shrugged. "Didn't read them yet. Oh, I've evicted
Ms. Vernor of the Advertiser twice this morning.
Surprised she didn't ambush you on the front steps."
"Maybe
she gave up," McGarrett hoped of one of the newspaper's most obnoxious
(was there any other kind?) reporters.
"That
would be a first," Duke skeptically admitted. "I'll warn you if she
comes back."
McGarrett
murmured his thanks and Duke quietly left the room.
McBride's
report was irritating and depressing and McGarrett did little more than scan
the contents. Basically it stated Williams' bloodstream was filled with
hallucinogenic, hypnotic, will-bending drugs of uncertain, potent properties
(not to mention the drugs SHE gave him). McBride recommended a prolonged leave
of absence for Williams while he underwent therapy. Steve bristled -- he
wouldn't allow his right hand man to be out of the action for very long.
A
shiver coursed his spine and he was stabbed with the remembrance of those
panicked moments when Dan's heart had stopped. Danno had actually died. The
chill returned. What if Danno had died? Steve couldn't lose Dan -- especially
not so close to Chin's death.
Physically
shaking away the brooding thoughts he forced his concentration back to
McBride's unpleasant report. Any distraction was preferable over memories of
yesterday. Reading McBride's findings he felt there was nothing extraordinarily
wrong with Williams. Work and routine would be a valuable therapy. McGarrett
would keep a close watch on Williams, make sure he
didn't overdo things, that he did not get involved with anything too dangerous
for awhile. Abstractly, Steve thought if it was in his power he would make sure
Dan, and Duke, were never anywhere near dangerous or life threatening
situations. Unfortunately, that was not the nature of their work.
McBride
insisted on periodic psychological tests to monitor Dan's long range stability.
She warned of possibly dangerous flashbacks or deadly, latent programming.
Basically she did not know what to expect and warned there were endless
possibilities. At the end of the report she recommended Williams be relieved of
field duty indefinitely for safety's sake. At that point Steve almost threw the
papers in the trash. Instead, he closed the file folder and slapped it down on
the end of his desk.
Next
was a medical report detailing the ER doctor's initial diagnosis.
Steve glossed over it. Possible medical reason for temporary
heart failure -- massive doses of extremely potent drugs which defied exact
composition analysis. The doctor found the heart failure immaterial and
McBride had not even commented on the temporary 'death'. Steve cringed at the
references to Dan's exhausted, depleted condition; abrasions on his wrists from
restraints, bruises on his face from electric shock and physical blows. Again,
Steve's own mental images of torture flashed into his mind. He tossed the file
to the farthest end of the desk.
The
HPD files he didn't even glance over. Too depressing, he decided. Marla's legal
escape was a slap in the face he would not soon forget. In fact, he made a
mental note to contact an old friend in intelligence circles in
Disturbed
now, he sighed and flopped into his chair. He had arrived in such an upbeat
mood, but reality soon squashed his enthusiasm. Resolutely he tried to put his
mind-set into perspective. Dan was alive and mending and that was the important
thing. The rest of the spectres must be shelved to the background. He had spent
enough time lecturing Dan on just that need, now Steve had to take his own
advice.
Curious
about the last file, he picked up the telex received from his friend Napoleon
Solo. He scanned the lines identifying Marla Kahuanu
as a Chinese spy named Jin Wu, a vicious operative known to Solo, who still
kept his hand in counterintelligence on a free-lance basis. She was wanted in
most of the Western countries of the world for espionage activities. Notorious not only for her own ruthless reputation, but also as
part of a family of Red Chinese spies. Involuntarily his lip twitched
with disgust. The Red Chinese were responsible for a great deal of misery in
his life. Sometimes -- He audibly gasped!
His eyes had scanned a line with a dreaded name. Rereading the words, several times, the letters blurred on the page. Finally they cleared into shockingly lucid print.
Wo Fat.
He blinked, then refocused again.
Wo
Fat, patriarch to a spy dynasty, top dragon in the Nine Dragons triad -- father
to Jin Wu.
Wo
Fat.
Steve
pushed away from the desk. He found it hard to catch his breath. So the trail
of misery really never did end. Wo Fat was not enough. Now he had sent a
daughter to
Once
he calmed down he turned his mind to logical trails of investigation. Was Jin
Wu here to kill him, and Danno was drawn into the trap by mistake? Or was Dan
the target all along --specifically picked to murder him? Had the Five-0
investigation coincidentally placed Danno in danger, with Jin Wu quick to use
the resources available to her?
Reportedly
the Chinese killed Wo Fat after his bungled coup in
'76, when he had captured and tortured McGarrett. Another
lie? He tried to squash down the wild speculations, but they flooded
through his mind like a downhill lava flow.
This
certainly explained Jin Wu's (the name he would hear when he thought of that
cold, hate-filled face) supercilious attitude! She could have been here merely
for the purpose of nabbing the couriers. No wonder she was so adept at
brainwashing. She learned from a master. Was she here independently or at Wo Fat's bidding? Was the whole family still in power? Was Wo Fat alive? Did he still have influence in
' "I leave you my legacy." ' she cryptically warned. Now he knew what she meant. ' "Remember there is no defense
against the talons of the dragon." ' Another attack
on them from the Chinese spies? Or was their subterfuge more subtle?
Suddenly
Steve's blood ran cold. He raced back into the office and fell to the floor
collecting the strewn report pages. Scattering papers everywhere he frantically
searched for several specific passages.
------------------------------------
"Williams could be prone to latent programming dangerous to
himself or others," he
read aloud the report from McBride. "Williams is susceptible to
hypnotic suggestion, i.e. Naval Intelligence report attached.
"
-----------------------------------
Steve
quickly turned to the transcript of McBride's visit with Williams. She had put
him under drugged hypnosis to see what he could remember and to discover any
hidden time bombs in his mind. She reported there were certain blocks in his
memory, even though he was an easy subject to hypnotize. That was why she
warned against latent programming.
McGarrett
pieced it all together. What if Jin Wu found Danno an irresistible subject to
play with? On her own initiative she could have decided to use Dan to get to
the courier. Then as an added present to dear old daddy, she would use Dan to
kill McGarrett.
It
was almost too scary to contemplate -- yet all the facts fit. The diabolical
genius of the plan certainly reeked of Wo Fat, but
with a really nasty, perverted twist. Something a very scheming, evil daughter
could devise. The icing on the cake would be the surprise cushion of diplomatic
immunity.
The
intricate plot sickened him. Dan had been used as a pawn, then thrown away to
die as the coup de grace of the plan. Only the oh-so-clever Red Chinese
dragon-lady had not counted on intangibles such as loyalty and friendship to
override the drugs and torture. Dan's regard for McGarrett had turned the plan
inside out.
Steve
was almost glad Jin Wu had slipped away from them. By now she was probably
reporting back to daddy about the incredible failure of their ploys. They had
been outmaneuvered by the very simple, human factor of friendship. The gruesome
effectiveness of their brainwashing and torture could not overcome the
stronger, more durable bond of camaraderie between two old friends.
There
were still revolting questions to consider and Steve did not know how to answer
them. Was there latent programming? Was there a way to really find out? Was
Williams still a danger to himself or to Steve? Should McGarrett take these
doubts to McBride? If he did, Williams could be off the team for good. The
doctor and McBride had already dismissed the heart failure as unimportant.
Perhaps McGarrett was simply jumping at shadows. In a moment of blind
arbitration, McGarrett chose to not report his suspicions. They were, most
likely, based on his own paranoiac reactions to Wo
Fat. There was no need to cause irreparable harm to Dan for nothing. With a
ragged sigh he sealed his silence, hoping he was making the right decision for
their future.
*****
"Have
you got time for a late lunch before you go back to the office?" Williams
asked with forced casualness.
"Absolutely,"
Steve responded, stopping when they reached the sedan parked in front of the
hospital. Over the roof he said, "I'm all pau. The rest of the day
is yours."
"Great.
I'm starved. You know how bad hospital food is." Williams tossed the
overnight bag into the back seat of the Mercury. "How about that new
Chinese place on Ala Moana?"
"Fine,"
came the instant agreement.
"Since when are you taking afternoons off?" Dan probed with a grin.
As
they cruised through the pre-rush hour traffic, Steve shot occasional glances
at his relaxed, cheery companion. Dressed in a bright blue aloha shirt, jeans
and deck shoes, Dan looked ready for a day on a boat. Hard to believe Williams
had been tortured and had clinically died the day before. The detective was now
energetic, even exuberant at leaving the hospital and coming back to the real
world. A last minute visit by beast-woman McBride had not dampened Williams'
spirits.
The
reaction was probably another of the mood swings Williams had been experiencing
-- the incredible highs and lows caused by the remnants of drugs. This was a
high Steve hoped would last, but knew soon there would be a corresponding
descent. The depressions were hard to watch. Danno was normally so
light-hearted -- and he wore those dark moods like an ill-fitting cloak of
black. Steve found himself becoming wary of the changes even when Williams felt
good.
During
the meal Williams was almost chipper with idle chat connected with tidbits from
the social pages and sports news. Then he outlined his plans to try windsurfing
during his enforced recovery period.
"If
you're feeling that lively I should put you back to work," he joked.
"I'll
probably be back before my two weeks are up anyway," Williams replied
ruefully. "Much more than a week away and I start to get
bored."
Steve
grinned. "I'll remember that next time you ask for a vacation."
"You
will, too." Dan wryly forecast "How are things at the office
anyway?"
"None
of your business," the smooth but firm reply followed quickly. Pointing
chop-sticks at his companion, he firmly asserted, "You're on sick leave,
Danno."
"Okay.
Just looking for an update. At least tell me
this," William asked, his nerves on edge
suddenly. Hands compulsively tapped chopsticks on the table in a staccato
drumbeat. "Am I going to have to break into my holiday for a
hearing?"
Momentarily
McGarrett was nonplused. "For what?"
Williams'
eyes darted around the room and finally zeroed in on his associate. "The hearing against Marla Kahuanu.
I can't -- can't say I'm looking forward to seeing her again."
For
a few seconds Steve debated on what to say. He had given this a lot of thought
and come to no conclusions. The truth, of course, was always the best, but it
wasn't an easy epigram to live by when honesty could be so painful.
Steve
stalled by placing a fortune cookie on his friend's plate. "Let's finish
eating first."
Wary,
William pushed aside the cookie. "You sound like you have a clearer vision
of my future than this fortune." At the hesitation Dan urged, "Come
on, Steve, what gives?"
"Let's
wait until --"
"Let's
not," Williams interrupted with an edge to his voice.
"You
won't like it," was his warning.
Dan's
face drained of color. "You're going to fire me."
"NO!" McGarrett instantly denied.
"I couldn't blame you, Steve. After what I did you can't trust --"
"Danno!" the sharp command brought an end to the rapid-fire
"No, of course not!" Steve leaned forward, intensity sizzling
his voice and certainly his eyes, because Dan blinked. "I trust you
completely! I told you that before and I meant it."
Dan
released a sigh of relief. "Good. I thought maybe you --" he
looked at McGarrett, apparently saw the stormy expression and rephrased.
"I thought maybe the governor was pressuring you to get rid of me after --
what happened."
"No way, Danno, no way." The misconception was sobering, however. Obviously
Danno had a lot of concerns he had never voiced. Although he should know
better, job security had apparently been on his mind. What Steve had to reveal
was not as bad as being fired, which made it easier for him to plunge ahead.
"The governor knows better," he assured. "You're on the team
until I kick you off. And I'm not going to do that."
"Thanks."
"The
bad news is about Marla Kahuanu, about who she really
is and what's happened since your brainwashing."
William
nodded slowly, seeming to steel himself for bad news. "Okay, lay it on
me."
"Her
real name is Jin Wu. She's a spy for the Chinese and was attached to their
embassy." He tried to be neutral in his delivery. Once started on the
explanation, however, he knew that his tone and inflections revealed the
bitterness and betrayal he felt as deeply as Dan would feel them. "She's Wo Fat's daughter."
"Wow,"
was Williams' breath of incredulity. "Wow," he repeated, stunned by the
news. "That's heavy," he breathed out.
Steve
nearly squirmed with discomfort at the blow about to come. "It gets
heavier," he grimaced. There was no way to cushion the shock, to make it
any easier than by just telling it straight out. He would have wished for
better surroundings, but on reflection realized there was no good time or place
for this crushing injustice. "She had diplomatic immunity, Danno. She
walked."
"Damn,
I don't believe it," he snapped. Anger instantly flooded his face. "Dammit, how could they do that!"
He launched to his feet, nearly overturning the table.
"Danno
--"
Williams
violently threw his chopsticks on the table and stalked from the restaurant.
Ignoring the curious stares of the patrons, Steve hastily tossed some bills
down and raced after Williams, catching him out on the sidewalk.
Placing
a firm hand on Dan's shoulder he stopped his friend. "Easy,
Danno. It's over," was his hypocritical advice, ignoring the memory
of his own violent reaction to the same revelations. Dan shrugged away and kept
walking. McGarrett put an arm around his shoulder and resolutely steered him to
the Mercury. "I know it's hard, Danno, but there's nothing we can do about
it now. It's over."
Williams
leaned against the car, his hands in his pockets, and stared up at the sky for
a moment, shaking his head. Steve retained his contact, unsure of what else to
say or do. He had been through all this before, yet it hurt to relive it with
Dan. This official betrayal was even more agonizing than those many instances
when he had witnessed Wo Fat walk out of a noose.
Perhaps this was more intense because it was happening to Williams this time
and McGarrett despised being so powerless to help his friend.
"We
just never seem to get the best of him," finally came
a comment. Dan's voice was thready with emotion, as
if he was fighting off tears. The irony he tried to force into the words was
lost in the overwhelming wash of bitterness. "I thought the good guys were
supposed to win."
"We'll
win someday," Steve assured and firmly patted Dan's shoulder. He could
think of nothing else to say. It was an empty pep talk right now, but it was
all he could come up with short of sinking into a mutual depression.
"Any more bad news?" Williams asked, at last facing Steve. "Give it
to me now so I can put all my depression into one day." The attempt to
lighten his tone fell short of normal, but already he was starting to come out
of the depths of anger and stabilize to something of an old, recognizable
attitude.
"That's
it."
"That's
enough," was Dan's dry admission.
"You
got that right, bruddah," Steve concurred wholeheartedly. "Come
on," he urged and guided Williams to the side of the car, opening the
door. "Let's take out our anger on some unprotected tennis balls."
The
surprise invitation knocked a lot of unpleasantness out of Williams'
expression. He came to a stop, incredulous. "First
lunch, then the afternoon off?" His tone was teasing. "Watch
out, this might become a habit, Steve. You might like taking time off."
"Maybe, " Steve agreed, taking up the jibe and tossing it
back. He patted Dan on the back then crossed to the driver's side of the car.
"Maybe I should make you come back to work early so I can do this more
often."
"That'll
be the day," Williams flung back with a grin.
Steve
smiled as well, cheered at this small, temporary victory against what had
seemed like overwhelming adversity. Perhaps, for a while, winning small battles
were all they could hope for in the overall war.
*****
The
purple/blue horizon of dark storm clouds melded with the sea pressed close to
shore. Like a moving wall of grey water, the storm approached the beach without
Williams being aware of the oncoming front. His own inner turmoil matched --
overshadowed -- nature's tumultuous atmospherics. Even the magnificent sets of
huge wave-curls remained unappreciated by the surfer in the throes of his own inner tempest. He valued this solitude, this chance
of silent, lone introspection. There had been precious little of this in the
past weeks. Between McBride's prying and the well-meaning interference from
McGarrett, there had been scant time left for Dan Williams to think for
himself.
Then
Steve had called Dan back to help out while McGarrett served on a jury. {episode -- THE CASE AGAINST PHILLIP
CHRISTIE} Then it was with a case
fighting legalized gambling in
Dan
wasn't sure if he liked that or not. Part of him wanted to just forget the
brainwashing had ever happened and bury it deep in a part of the mind which
would somehow forget the terror and guilt. Another part of him yearned to talk
-- really talk to Steve -- ramble through the fears and guilt and confusing
emotions which still churned within. So far, neither side had
won in this internal war, and Williams was unsettled because of the
conflicting desires and needs.
There
were times, many times, since Steve was such a constant part of his life, when
he had almost spilled out his thoughts. Instinctive hesitation prevented the
revelations. His own still prevalent guilt being the
over-riding factor of silence. Resolve over nearly shooting Steve
remained elusive -- a truth he would never reveal to McBride for fear of his
continued suspension from full duty. His other overpowering reason for the
silence was to protect Steve; from the pain of this incident, from the pain of
Steve's own brainwashing experiences. Mostly for the latter reason, Williams
refrained from questioning Steve. These intimate fears lingered as intricate
roadblocks, impossible for Williams to fully discuss, although he really wished
for Steve's input. A thoroughly upsetting situation.
His friend was in a position to help counsel him through this, but only by
dredging up unpleasant memories. It seemed that peace was not to be found from
outside advice, nor from inward exploration. Dan
wondered if any option existed rather than simply the passage of healing time.
Williams
ran fingers through his hair in frustration. This interlude of solitude had
resolved nothing. He loved Steve and appreciated the big-brotherly concern held
for him, but since the brainwashing, Steve had become as close and sometimes as
oppressing as the oncoming storm. Dan still felt inwardly chaotic with his
tumultuous emotions as unsettled as ever.
For
a moment he stared at his clothes, surprised he was wet. Only then did he
realize the storm front had hit the beach without him noticing. Slowly he came
to his feet and trudged through the damp sand to his car, resigned that there
was no easy or quick solution to his continued recovery.
*****
Steve
McGarrett paced, out of the rain, just under the protection of the entrance to
the apartment building.
He
could have gone up and waited in the apartment, but this was a more tactically
advantageous spot. From here McGarrett could confront his wayward protégé' as
soon as Williams drove into the garage. Steve was too impatient to wait the
extra time it would take Dan to reach the apartment.
While
he waited he tried to master control of his temper. It wasn't easy. Being
called out of a meeting to face an irate Dr. McBride had ruined his day. That
McBride's complaints concerned Williams' mental health put an added edge of
unpleasantness to the confrontation. In turn, McGarrett was willing to pass the
residual unhappiness on to Williams.
The
head of Five-0 ground his teeth at the memory of McBride' s
accusations. She had blamed him for Williams' uncooperative attitude toward
therapy, claiming Steve as a role model of bad habits. That perceptive
accusation amused him. While he didn't want to pass on any of his least
admirable traits to his friend, he had to admit Williams had picked up a lot of
his idiosyncrasies over the years. A belligerent attitude toward McBride was
something Steve could only encourage.
McBride
insisted that his obsession to control and dominate was oppressing Williams'
recovery. 'Fool', he labeled the psychiatrist under his breath. Obsessed was
the wrong appellation. Steve was concerned and acted neither controlling nor
domineering! His best friend had just been through a harrowing experience, a
trauma which might have been avoided if McGarrett had been thinking a little
more clearly. This was the way he could best aid Danno -- spending time with
him, easing him back into the work routine -- a proven method of recovery. This
was the only way Steve knew to show his support.
The
thought of the necessary evil of therapy sobered him. He had made it clear to
Williams the therapy would continue or he could not remain on active duty.
Williams' sick leave had lasted only a week -- he had returned early to help
McGarrett with an undercover assignment gone sour . . . . 'Well, enough
about that,' he thought.[episode -- SMALL
POTATOES].
Now
Williams would go back on the job with a four or five day work week to ease him
back into the routine. McBride's therapy was a stipulation right from the
governor's office and a mandate McGarrett could not, would not, refuse. It was
more important to Steve than to anyone else, except Williams, that the
detective continue counseling.
The
screech of tires on wet pavement alerted Steve and he stopped pacing. Williams'
white Mustang slid on the slick street and sped up the ramp driveway into the
garage. The car slammed to a stop in an assigned slot and Williams leaped over
the door of the open-topped car. The detective's pace slowed when he saw the
forbidding stance of his boss.
"What's
up Steve?"
Taking
in the soppy wet Williams -- from his dripping hair, the skin-clinging clothes
to the sloshing tennis shoes -- left Steve speechless. Dan was soaked, looking
like a drowned cat. The picture was so ludicrous the anger seeped out of
Steve's thoughts.
"Isn't
the rain bad for the upholstery?"
"Water resistant cloth."
"Where
have you been?' he asked with a trace of humor and a twitch to his lips.
"North Store. Enjoying island living! You ought to see the waves
from this storm, Steve. They are --"
"Were
you surfing in this?"
"No.
Would you believe windsurfing.?"
Just
from the tone he knew it was one of Williams' jokes, but it was not so funny
when he thought of how dangerous any water sport would be in this storm.
"I
just needed to get away for awhile. Be alone," Dan confessed.
The
carefree spontaneity of Williams was impossible to resist and Steve swallowed
the stern lecture he had prepared. After what they had been through it was good
to see his friend relaxed and happy. He could afford to ease up -- a little.
"You're
still on the official sick list, Danno." The tone
unintentionally sharp from concern.
What
made it harder was Williams' opposing attitude of trying to push the limits on
every front. Adversely to Steve's protectiveness, Dan was out for adventure. In
some kind of defiance to the brainwashing, the therapy, the emotional upheaval,
Williams seemed to go out of his way to pour out his energies in sports and
activities which he hoped would literally drive out and purge the effects of
his mind control.
Steve
wished his friend luck. He didn't know if there was yet a cure for the after
effects of being controlled by a master.
"So
what are you doing here?" Dan asked -- almost accused. "Checking up
on me?"
"Yes.
Where's your watch?" He indicated the tan line on Dan's left wrist.
Williams
shrugged. "I guess I forgot it."
McGarrett
crisply indicated, "It's after four-thirty. You missed your
"Oh,
damn," Williams snapped and rubbed his hands through his drippy hair.
"Is today Thursday?"
"All day."
Dan
shook his had in frustration. "I totally forgot. So she laid it on you?
Blast her. You didn't have to come after me, Steve. Just because I miss an
appointment doesn't mean I'm a danger to society or something."
"No,"
was Steve' s razor-sharp response, "but she'll
obviously read something into it.
"Well
there's nothing sinister TO read into it!" Williams snapped. His
frustration at his own unresolved status was fed and flamed by the continued
intrusion by McBride, and the oppression by Steve. He was fed up with it all!
"I wanted some breathing room! If she doesn't like it
that's tough!"
With
an agitated stride he stalked away, McGarrett matching his pace. "She
won't let you stay on duty unless she's satisfied you're cured! Any
irresponsibility on your part and she has the authority to yank you off the
team!"
"She's
not my keeper!" Dan shouted back. He rooted himself to a spot just inside
the garage. He glared into his friend's face. "She doesn't have all the
answers, Steve, and I'm not going to let her control me! I've had enough people
controlling -- to last the rest of my life!" Williams turned away and
slammed a fist into the elevator controls.
Steve
caught a retort in a breath. This was not at all what he wanted to say -- not
the direction he wanted this discussion -- confrontation -- to go. With a deep
sigh he shook his head, knowing better than to push someone who had endured
what Dan went through.
Williams
caught his breath. "Sorry."
"Me, too."
The
elevator doors opened and they stepped into the box.
"You
didn't have to come out on this, Steve. I could have handled McBride."
"You
won't say that after my lecture." his comment was not completely
sarcastic.
Williams
rolled his eyes.
"All
right, all right," McGarrett sighed and slapped him friend on the
shoulder. Water sprayed off the soppy shirt and grimacing, he wiped his soggy
hand on a handkerchief. "First you better get into some dry clothes,"
he suggested.
"Uh-oh,
sounds like a long lecture," Dan retorted lightly.
The
tone forced an exasperated, nearly amused grimace from the older man.
"Sounds like a good idea right about now."
*****
For
a moment Williams stood at the threshold of his living room and studied Steve,
who contemplated the stormy ocean from the glass door of the lanai, unaware of
the scrutiny. A quick change into dry clothes prepared Dan for the next phase
of their discussion. Analyzing their clash of a few moments ago, the conflict
resolved some things that his psycho-therapy sessions could never plumb. Not a
stranger to psychology, Williams recognized a few fears of McGarrett's which
had surfaced in the heated, intense exchange. Steve was worried about Dan's
health, but afraid of the change this brainwashing had affected on their
relationship and on Five-0. The 'mother hen' routine was the undemonstrative
McGarrett's form of affection and care.
Without
a doubt, Williams now saw his status and future were an integral part of Five-0
in the eyes of McGarrett. Steve remained stubbornly adamant -- obsessed --
believing nothing would change with either relationship. Williams HAD TO
recover; Five-0 HAD TO return to normal. Everything interrelated and
intertwined to a blurred point where Williams could no longer decipher the
whole complex tapestry anymore. Steve, he and Five-0 were merged and hazy
beyond separate distinction. He wasn't sure he could pull them asunder and he
knew Steve could no longer see the delineation. Dan did not consider this a
slight; in no way felt diminished by the realization.
Williams
also concluded that to rebel against McBride's program would be to strike
against McGarrett's desire for a return to normalcy. Or, if Williams voiced his
own self doubts, he would damage Steve's attempts to rebuild this complex
structure they had fashioned of their lives.
This
amateur foray into psycho-motivations was a bit frightening for Dan, too. He
understood that he had already chosen a direction for his immediate future.
Pulling back from the edge of rebellion, confusion and frustration, he fell
back on the familiar. Go with the flow, stay
hard-pressed to the routine of work. Definitely do not push any emotional
boundaries right now -- no pressing Steve for answers to uncomfortable personal
questions. Dan would work things out on his own and allow time to heal the
doubts and fears yet harbored in his soul. Not for the world would he hurt
Steve or repay this caring with anything but loyalty. The decision made, he
already felt better. He had a direction now, confident this path was the best
possible course for them both.
The
rain lashed against the glass door like liquid pebbles, pelting the transparent
shield in a stinging clatter of cascading sound. Instead of going out onto the
lanai as was his usual habit, McGarrett watched the rain from the shelter of
the living room.
Williams
entered the room with a towel draped over his head. He flopped onto the sofa, a
can of beer in his hand and his bare feet propped on the coffee table.
"Okay," he announced, "Ready for the reprimand."
Steve
took a seat on a nearby chair "No lecture, Danno. I just want to make sure
you're okay."
"I
am." On the dubious expression of his friend he smiled.
"Really," he sincerely assured. "It's taken time, Steve, you
know how it is."
Now
that the moment was upon him, Steve wasn't sure what to say. At first anger had
lent plenty of mental ammunition about Dan's lax attitude lately. He had
adopted a new, general air of irresponsibility that would have to disappear
before he came back to full-time work. Williams had to understand how critical
it was that he receive a clean bill of health from
McBride. The psychiatrist wielded the mighty power of saving or discarding
Danno's career and Steve demanded nothing threaten Williams' return.
Steve
knew these minor character aberrations of Dan's were just reactions to the
brainwashing. Even now, Williams acted more like a teenager caught out after curfew
than a detective slipping responsibilities. For an amused, irritated second
Steve had the comical image of Dan's uncle/guardian/cop who
must have had his hands full raising Dan Williams, i.e. teenage free-spirit.
Steve felt a stab of sympathetic, frustrated understanding with the long dead
guardian.
"I
don't mean to make you worry." Dan apologized. "I'm up and down, you
know? More ups now, though. I need to be free, you know. No restraints, no
confinement."
"Sure,"
McGarrett sympathized. "It's only natural. You want to fight back against
the control that was forced on you."
"Did
you -- I mean, you must have felt that way, too, I guess."
The
question would have normally been ignored, but Steve knew he couldn't do that.
He owed it to his friend to help in any way possible. Even if
the aid was as tough as digging into his own private agonies and sharing them
-- to a point. He admitted to himself he was still hung up about Wo Fat, even about his imprisonment in
"Yeah,"
Steve admitted guardedly. "It takes a long time, Danno. You want to never
be confined or enclosed."
Dan
gave a nod of understanding. "How did you cope with it, Steve?"
"Not
as well as you have," he responded immediately. Dan began to protest, but
he went on. "I'm sure you've noticed how hard it is for me to talk about
things like this." Dan smiled in understanding and agreement. "You
can open up, Danno," Steve admitted slowly, unveiling a glimmer of his
inner feelings. "You can ask me how to cope. I could never ask that. I can
hardly answer it." He paused and briefly glanced out at the dark, churning
see. "A few years ago," Steve turned back to meaningfully glance at
Williams, "a wise friend said we gave Wo Fat an edge when we personalized
our encounters instead of treating him as the criminal he is.
"
"I
said that?"
"You
did. And it helped put things into perspective. I'm -- I just -- well, I hope
it helps you, Danno."
Prolonged
silence indicated the advisory session was at an end. McGarrett could delve no
further into his past or his intimate ordeals.
Understanding,
Williams nodded his thanks. Attempting a cock-eyed grin he lightly changed the
subject. "I'm okay and ready to go back to work. Don't worry about me so
much, it'll give you gray hair. So no lecture?"
In
deference to his privacy, his reluctance to reveal inner secrets, Steve knew
Dan would probably never press him for intimate answers again. A bit sadly,
Steve wondered if he had closed a door of aid and friendship. He thought --
hoped -- Dan was perceptive enough to know better. Steve wanted to help, to
answer questions when needed -- it just wasn't easy.
"Only to remind you not to miss anymore
appointments."
There
was a grimace on Dan's face as he agreed to be more responsible. He assured his
friend therapy was otherwise going as well as could be expected when dealing
with McBride. "On the bright side," he sighed, "McBride feels
there's no more threat of latent programming."
"Thank
God," was McGarrett's heartfelt sigh of relief.
"Yeah,"
Dan agreed fervently. "It must be scary to think your best friend might
still have a hidden program to kill you."
"I
never worried about that for a minute. Never!"
McGarrett snapped sternly. "I worried about you." He mellowed,
wishing he was as good a communicator as his friend. "I just want you to
be okay. My only concern has always been your health, Danno. I want you back on
the team as soon as possible, probably even more than you."
"I
don't know about that," Williams smiled.
More
than anything, Steve just wanted his friend to be back to normal, or whatever
they could establish as normal in his reconstructed psyche.
Steve
did not mention that the concerns he had for the subliminal programming had nothing
to do with the order Dan received to kill him. Steve was far more appalled at
his theory that the latent programming had been targeted for self-destruct
after the mission. He still had not mentioned that to McBride, afraid the
psychiatrist would ban Williams from work altogether. Nor did he mention it to
Dan, who had enough to worry about without thinking he was a walking time bomb.
Momentarily, he wondered if his arbitrary withholding of such vital information
would hurt Danno's recovery. If McBride was convinced there was no longer a
danger of subsurface programming, then he felt justified in his continued
silence.
"I'll
be fine," Williams reassured.
"Yeah,"
Steve grinned, "I think you will." 'And so will I,'
he added silently, 'as soon as this is all behind us.'
*****
Storms,
winds and low temperatures predominated early December. An off-shore tropical
depression brought moist liquid sunshine whipping through
The
walks proved more beneficial than the jogs, affording the two friends an
opportunity to relax and talk more openly than ever before. Unusually cool wind
and rain had driven them to the shelter of a beachside cafe this morning, where
they treated themselves to an indulgent breakfast instead of exercise.
"How
did you work out your frustrations when the stress built up?" Dan had
asked about Steve's recovery from Wo Fat's torture.
Picking
at the fruit in his breakfast bowl, Steve answered, "Jogged till I dropped.
And I did a lot of jogging, bruddah." It was something he had not been
able to admit before, even to Dan. Years of resistance to emotion and intrusion
remained solid against all attack, even from friendly allies. Feeling compelled
to help Dan, McGarrett reluctantly allowed
interrogation -- gentle, restrained interrogation -- into his private life.
"Some ghosts linger for a long time."
"I
wish you would have let me help," Dan commented.
"I
wish so, too, Danno. I was too scared, I suppose. So scared I pushed you
away."
"You
never -- "
"I
did. In
Williams
nodded. "Thanks. You've already helped so much, Steve, more than you can
imagine." He smiled. "Maybe not more than
that."
The
completely Danno-like expression brought a smile to Steve's sober demeanor. "Mahalo."
From
behind him a voice cut into the conversation. "Well, if it isn't two of
Nancy
Vernor slid into the chair next to McGarrett, her
smile both triumphant and predatory. Thin, narrow-faced, she resembled a bird
of prey swooping down on her latest victims. In her early thirties, Ms Vernor held a reputation as one of the toughest, unkindest
journalists in the
"Ms
Vernor," he acknowledged cooly.
She
zeroed in on Williams with merciless hazel eyes. "I see you're recovering
from your unspecified wounds, Officer Williams. Care to comment --"
"No,"
Dan interrupted her sharply. He came to his feet. "We were just
leaving."
"You've
been coaching him, McGarrett," she accused over her shoulder, then continued her scrutiny of the second-in-command.
"You're as tight-lipped as your boss, Williams. Why not give me the real
story? I know there's more --"
Bending
down, inches from her face, he countered, "What you think you know is
nothing compared to everything you don't know, Ms Vernor.
I have nothing to say to you. Leave me alone." Dan pushed past her.
Before
she could recover, Steve gave her a curt farewell and jogged into the drizzling
rain after his friend. McGarrett didn't break the pace with conversation, but
followed Williams down Kalakaua all the way to his apartment.
"Feel
better?" McGarrett wondered, invigorated after the wet, brisk exercise.
Inside
the garage they walked until Dan leaned against his car. "You're right,
Steve. The ghosts. They linger. I thought everyone had
forgotten . . . . " He shook his head, wiping
away the lines of water on his face. "Publicity.
Another haunting I have to learn to live with?"
"Afraid so, Danno. We're public servants. Our lives are an open book.
It probably would have been easier if we could tell the truth about Jin Wu -- "
"And
tell everyone I was brainwashed?"
"No!"
Steve denied instantly, aghast at the thought of what such sensational press
would do to Danno.
Just
the concept of the exposure drained the blood from his face and chilled him to
the bone. In the aftermath of Wo Fat's brainwashing
and phony film of McGarrett denouncing the
"Not
the brainwashing, Danno. Never! But Jin Wu's covert web of
spies."
Williams,
pale and disconcerted, rubbed his hands over his eyes. "No, she would have
spilled everything. Maybe Webb did the right thing in getting her away. Maybe
injustice and the uncertainty of her status is best
after all. If it ever got out -- I don't know how I'd live with it."
"Fortunately,
we don't have to worry about that," McGarrett sighed. Seeing his optimism
was not shared, he asked, "Right, Danno? You're not going to let this bug
you, right?"
"No,"
Williams agreed with less conviction than his friend.
McGarrett
dropped the debate, sensing Williams' need to work it out on his own. Refusing
a ride back to his apartment, Steve jogged across the
*****
McGarrett
shuffled the papers atop his desk in restless annoyance. The afternoon traffic had
been thick and crazy. December holiday congestion mingled with the slowness of
the tenacious tropical storm which had hit
When
Duke arrived after lunch he had the usual HPD morning updates. There were more than the average number of problems, probably
because December always brought a rise in the crime rate. It was after three
when they finished the reports. McGarrett glanced at the digital clock and for
the first time realized that Dan was late getting back from lunch. Very late. Members of Five-0 did not take three hour lunch
breaks.
"I'll
ask my snitches what they know on the Stark murder," Duke said in closing.
"Steve?"
"Yeah,"
McGarrett nodded. "I heard. I was just wondering why Danno was late."
He picked up the phone and dialed Williams' number.
"He
just pulled up," Duke said, a touch incredulously.
McGarrett
followed his gaze out the closed lanai doors. No wonder Lukela was taken off
guard. Williams had just arrived in his Mustang, the top down in the pouring
rain. Abruptly irate at the unexpected irresponsibility of his detective,
McGarrett launched to his feet. "Get cracking on the Stark case," he
snapped to Duke as he briskly strode out of the office.
"Where
the hell have you been all afternoon? And you want to explain why you're doing
your best to catch pneumonia?" he barked when he confronted Williams on
the steps of the Palace. He took the younger detective by the arm and drew him
under the shelter of the entranceway.
Sincerely
repentant, Dan apologized. "I'm sorry, I just had
to get away, Steve. I didn't realize the time."
"This
is crazy," McGarrett gestured toward the convertible.
"You
know it helps me think when I drive with the top down. I thought --"
"In a downpour like this? I thought we were beyond the top-down monsoon
stage?"
"Sorry."
The
incident had taken McGarrett completely off balance. He had not been prepared
for this unexpected regression into unusual behavior. Everything had been so
normal for the last month. Even that run-in with Ms. Vernor
last week hadn't prompted any more than a grumpy morning for Williams.
Worried at the portent of this behavior, a good look
into Dan's eyes revealed deep anxieties. "Why didn't you say something?"
Williams
shrugged. "It was just an impulse. Things were closing in."
Fidgeting, he ran a hand through his wet hair.
"What
happened? You were fine this morning!"
"Oh
yeah, fine," Dan flung back the sarcastic rejoinder. He paced away from
his friend and hit the nearest pillar with a fist. "Wo Fat's daughter
decided to turn my brains inside out. Last month my old girlfriend, Melissa,
used me to get back at her boyfriend and nearly got us both killed![episode -- A LONG TIME AGO] I turn forty tomorrow and what
have I got to show for those wasted years?" He leaned his head back and
covered his face with his hands. "I had to get out," he finally
breathed hoarsely. "I -- I thought you would understand."
McGarrett
closed his eyes against the accusation which was not nearly so
harsh as his own self-condemnation. Danno was right. Not only should he
understand, but should anticipate reactions like this. It was holiday time. A season when anyone could get unusually depressed and unsettled.
Melissa Cole, the former girlfriend, committed suicide a few days ago in her
jail cell. Today was December Seventh --
"I'm
the one who should apologize, Danno." Closing the distance he patted his
friend on the shoulder. "I didn't think -- "
"Steve,
it's not your job to be my keeper --"
"I'm
your friend!" he crisply reminded, his short temper still burning. "I
know what you've been through and I didn't do anything to help you!"
Without
making eye contact, Williams placed a hand on his arm. "You're here for me
when I need you, Steve. That's more important than anything else. You're
patient when I go a little crazy. And you keep me planted on the ground when I
want to fly off into orbit, like today." Drawing in a ragged breath, he
sighed. "You never give up on me, Steve. That helps me to not give up,
either."
McGarrett
drew him close. "Count on it, Danno, count on it." Keeping Dan beside
him, he waited a few minutes until his friend pulled away, indicating the
immediate crisis at an end. "Go home and take the rest of the day
off."
"I
don't --."
"That's
an order, Danno," Steve interrupted firmly, but gently. "I'll come by
later, but I don't want you back here at the Palace until tomorrow
morning."
With
a nod Williams walked back down the steps. The rain, now decreased to a heavy
mist, seemed a metaphoric comment on the emotional outburst. When Dan reached
the car he turned around and threw back a partial smile. "You mean I have
to work on my birthday?"
"It's
just another work day around here, Danno," McGarrett assured, striving,
and failing, to copy the light direction Williams turned them into.
"Slavedriver," Williams smiled, then
soberly called, "Mahalo, Steve. For everything."
"Sure,"
McGarrett responded clumsily. "And don't forget to put the top up this
time," he warned.
Williams
answered with an amused nod. Within moments the top rolled into place and Dan
drove away. For a time McGarrett stayed on the steps just out of reach from the
rain. Duke eventually joined him.
"You
okay, Steve?"
"Yeah,"
was the terse answer. "Just too
blind to see evidence right in front of my eyes. Some detective."
"Don't
be so hard on yourself," Lukela urged. "Danny still has mood swings. A lot. Sometimes we don't see them cause
we're used to them now. With all that's happened lately, with Christmas coming
up, that's always a hard time with the added stress."
McGarrett
shook his head, not taking the easy out. "I see Danno every day. I know --
KNOW -- what he's going through! I should have seen this coming."
Lukela
would not accept it. "Danny couldn't even see it, Steve. You couldn't have
either." When the boss didn't respond he said, "I'll go over later
and check on him."
"No,
I will." After a brief pause he cocked his head at the Hawaiian. "How
did you know I told him to take the rest of the day off?"
The
response was dryly advisory. "I could hear you from the other side of the
Palace, Steve. Next time you have a conference, don't do it out here. The
acoustics down this hall are great."
Duke
trotted down the steps to his car. Steve ruefully shook his head in
frustration. All around it had been a vexing day.
*****
Williams
shut down the small computer in his office and sat for a moment staring at the
screen. Reviewing personnel files was a boring job, but had to be done.
Spearheading a subtle, one-man campaign to restaff
Five-0, he searched for good candidates to offer Steve. Replacing Chin Ho Kelly
was an emotional hurdle for McGarrett, one that would not come easily, or
quickly.
Dan
removed his reading glasses, a tangible sign of his over-Forty status, and
rubbed his tired eyes. The personal computer was new to the Five-0 offices and
Williams, being the chief proponent of the technology, had been elected the
official operator until the rest of the staff could be trained on the
electronic wonder. Williams thought he would probably hold onto the title for
awhile because so far no one else felt inclined to touch the intimidating
hardware.
The
PC also had its drawbacks. Williams was still new at logging files and had just
stumbled into an old file report on his brainwashing. The cold, impersonal efficiency
of the PC failed to distance him from the disconcerting memories, to make the
old document somehow more remote and sterile. It wasn't easy reading, exposing,
the insides of his mind and his soul. The brutal facts from months ago, long
since given over to the boss, still haunted Williams.
Clearly
recalling the moment when he gave Steve the report, when they had joked about
Dan remembering everything of the brainwashing. There had been the obvious
humor about Jin Wu's manufactured fiction of a hot date being pure fiction.
"You
mean I struck out?" he had asked.
There
was really nothing funny about the affair, including the facet that his real
'date' for that night had been stood up and now would not speak to him.
Steve,
Duke and he had laughed about the incident. Not that there was insensitivity on
the part of Duke or Steve. Nor had any of them forgotten the gravity of the
encounter with Jin Wu. It was a habitual reaction to try and find something
light in even the darkest situation. If they did not make that attempt they
would all mope around under a morbid cloud of depression.
Honestly,
he felt remarkably restored and healthy now. Intellectually he knew he would
stabilize more and more with time. There were moments, however, when reason
could not absolve the guilt. Every once in a while he would look at Steve and
wonder how he could ever try to kill his best friend -- twice -- even under
hypnosis. He hoped the culpability would diminish with time. Just as most of
Steve's guilty feelings had eased since his last encounter with Wo Fat.
The
name now invoked the tingle of iced blades along Williams' spine. Every time he
thought of the fat Chinese spy there would follow a memory of the beautiful,
treacherous daughter as well.
The
bitterness at being robbed of justice was nearly as persistent as the lingering
guilt he felt. He had heard somewhere that love and hate were equally strong
motivating emotions. Vengeance should have been added to the list as well.
After Wo Fat had brainwashed Steve, Dan craved revenge
against the Chinese spy. He wanted payback for the suffering Steve had gone
through, for what they had all had gone through. Now they could add Jin Wu to
the list of elusive, most wanted personal targets. Until there was some way to
get the father and daughter, Dan would always feel cheated. The dreaded
experiences forever open-ended, unresolved torments. Without a finish to the
cases he did not think Steve, or he, could ever really put these incidents in
the past.
One
thing had kept Williams going all along -- an anchor, a foundation, a support -- strength to keep going every day. That one
power was the persistence and force of McGarrett. Steve's dominating
personality, the greatest influence in Williams' life, held his splintered
heart and soul together. If his mentor insisted he could be trusted and
forgiven, then he had to believe it of himself. Eternally grateful to Steve for
the boost of confidence, he could never have survived without the support.
"Danno?'
Startled
at the call, he looked up to see McGarrett in the doorway. "You were miles
away."
"Yeah,"
Dan agreed quietly. "Worlds away."
Sensing
the importance of the comment, Steve nodded toward his office. "Come and
tell me about it..
Since
the brainwashing they had engaged in a number of these private discussions.
Steve tried to make himself available when he felt Dan
needed to talk. After the incident with driving in the rain last December,
Steve now sometimes pressured him into talking. Walking straight out onto the
lanai, McGarrett leaned his back against one of the white pillars.
On his look of anticipation, William. took a deep breath.
"It's nothing specific. Just little things remind me, then
I'm in a funk for a little while. No big deal. I just wonder, how long does the
moodiness last?"
"A
long time, Danno," he quietly responded. "A long
time. The good news is, as with any personal tragedy, time helps the
ghosts fade. Even the worst of the memories diminish."
Williams
nodded. "Yeah." He stepped closer to his friend
and looked directly into McGarrett's eyes. "After going through this, I
admire you more than ever. I don't know how you went through it alone."
Obviously
embarrassed, he squeezed Williams' shoulder. "I was never alone. Never. I tried to be, but I had a good
friend who forbid me to wallow in self-pity." Steve critically
studied his friend. "You okay now?"
Williams
had lost track of how many times Steve had asked that question over the last
months. Dan would probably hear it a lot more. Whenever he got tired of hearing
it he just reminded himself how nice it was to have a big brother watching out
for him. That sheltered, protective feeling was an inexpressible comfort. Just
what he needed after everything he had been through. Being a controlled puppet
was a devastating way to realize your mind and thoughts were as valuable as
your own soul. His soul had been rescued by a friend who had been through it
all before and was guiding him past the worst of his lingering nightmares.
Williams
smiled to reaffirm his response. "Fine, really. Just sometimes I find
myself thinking too much."
"Yeah
I know," Steve offered sympathetically. "I'm here whenever you need
to talk about it."
The
moment was broken when Duke came out to join them. "I'm ready," he
announced.
In
an enthusiastic surge of ambition, Williams had organized a Five-0 outrigger
canoe team to compete in the annual race from
McGarrett
looked at Dan with speculation in his eyes. "The Maui Channel is a little
tough for three over-the-hill detectives."
"We'll
never make it around the point," Duke predicted darkly.
"I
have some impostors from HPD coming aboard. Kono and his
cousin Truck."
"We'll
never make it out of the breakwater," Duke corrected deadpan.
They
all laughed. An obvious devise to keep things upbeat, but nonetheless
appreciated. When they were through with the jokes Williams urged them out of
the office. As they strolled down the front steps of the Palace, Williams felt
renewed appreciation for his friends. Humor helped all of them get back to
normal -- better than normal -- Dan mentally corrected. He felt closer to Duke
-- to Steve -- than ever before. Now out of the refiner's fire, they were
stronger than ever.
to be continued . . . . .
The
End of the World as We Know It - Part Two
Ghost of the Dragon