haolehothead | Timeloop

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Timeloop

Danny wakes up to the severe pain in his back that only comes accompanied by his pull-out bed. The alarm is blaring, the police radio is sounding that someone needs to check on John McGarrett, and when Danny rolls over to turn off the alarm, his body comes into contact with about two hundred pounds (give or take) of warm flesh. Danny doesn't have to think much to know what this day is. True, the events after he goes to the crime scene are just a little bit more vivid, but he'd been on the island the day that John McGarrett was killed and that was the day he'd picked up the case.

He wakes up fully, giving a wary look beneath him and bracing his weight against Steve's torso with both palms, staring at Steve in the pull-out bed of his crappy apartment. This is going to be so bad for Steve and Danny isn't even sure how to begin going about it. How do you? Steve had been thousands of miles away the first time this happened, there's no way that he's going to deal with this normally. It's Steve, after all.

And the radio keeps asking for someone to check on McGarrett, who went AWOL after lunch.

Danny knows this isn't possible, this has to be a bad dream. He pinches at the flesh of his skin, but it aches thoroughly and now he's faced with the knowledge that he has to figure out how to tell Steve about this. "Steve," he hisses, pushing at him. "Steve, wake up."

First he gets him awake and calm, then they figure out what to do about all this.

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Steve wakes to the sound of a groan, shifting and stretching in the bed long before he figures out it's his own sound, a noise of pain and momentary daze at being woken up so harshly. He realizes he's grown accustomed to a certain set schedule on the island, but on the weekends, all he wants to do is lay in bed with Danny a little longer - and for some reason, Danny isn't sharing his beliefs today.

He groans again, sitting up slowly, rubbing sleep out of his eyes with a closed fist, muffles a yawn against that same hand and then blinks blearily, but he's awake and alert shortly after that, frowning as his brain processes the change in surrounding. He can hear the faint sounds of a police radio in the background, but his waking brain can only make out the occasional words - McGarrett... not responding. That, combined with the knowledge that he's sharing Danny's pull-out bed - sleeping in Danny's apartment, no less - and he's up on his feet in seconds.

"Danny," he finally manages, quiet and even, voice raspy from sleep, "mind telling me what the hell is going on right now?"

Danny's been checking the date -- September 20th, 2010 -- and knows that one, they've managed to go back in time, and two, this is definitely the day that Steve's Dad is going to die. What the fuck is he supposed to do with that? Danny's already stripping off his long-sleeved shirt and shorts, pulling on a decent pair of work clothes in the meantime. "Babe, I have no fucking clue, okay?" he says bluntly. "Look, just, ignore the radio would you? All I need you to know is that it's September 20th and it's about eight in the morning."

Steve doesn't even have to think to know what the significance of that date is - it's literally the day that changed the rest of his life. It's safe to say Five-O wouldn't have even existed if the events of September 20 had never happened, but there's something else that profoundly affected him, a life that was snuffed out before he even had the chance to try and save it.

"September 20," he echoes flatly, staring at Danny, unmoving. "When? Danny, what year?"

Danny's finishing up with his tie as he pauses, just long enough to flash a look of pity at Steve, leaning in to clasp him by the cheeks and lay a long, adoring kiss to his lips -- lest he think he's managed to go home to a different Danny. "2010. It's September 20th, 2010, Steve," he says quietly, still holding onto him.

Steve stands there for what feels like the space of minutes - in reality, it's only a few seconds - and he's pulling out of Danny's grasp with a shrug, immediately searching for his clothes throughout the room. "Damn it," he hisses, yanking his shirt on over his head and practically jumping into his pants. The time difference had been significant, but he can do the math now. "Damn it."

Danny closes his eyes tightly and watches as Steve practically bolts. There's a part of him that says there's nothing to be done. There's a part of him that thinks that Steve has to let it happen, if only...if only...

"Steve, what if, what if you go, what if you go stop it and what if you never meet me as a result? What happens if you stop it and Five-0 is the price?" He listens to himself for a single second and that's all he needs to know that, no matter what, a father outweighs that. "Fuck it, let's go."

He looks for his gun, looks for his badge - it's on the nightstand next to the pullout, exactly where he'd leave it if this was any other day, if it was just the two of them waking up together, just like always -

"We have to. If I can stop Hesse by getting there in time, even by five seconds," he hears himself saying. He stops, his boots on and laced, and that's when the pause happens, a moment of hesitation in his gaze as he looks to Danny, briefly wavering. He knows what he has to do, but he's not sure the cost will outweigh the risk. If he does this, how does he know everything isn't about to change? And Danny - God, he could wake up tomorrow and not even remember Danny, or any of this.

He's separating the distance between them, crossing the room to Danny in long strides, fingers sliding along the side of his neck as he hauls him in and kisses him hard, full of purpose and understanding, because this might be it, right here, the very last time.

Danny kisses back just as hard because he's never purported to be the kind of guy who's strong enough to look the possible end of his relationship in the eye and not falter. Danny buries his fingers into Steve's hair as desperately as he can, trying not to let it show on his face as he kisses Steve back, on his toes to get closer. "Fuck," he exhales raggedly. "You have to do this. It's your Dad, Steve. It's your Dad," he murmurs, grabbing his piece and hauling Steve by the shirt towards the front door, handing him the keys.

Steve doesn't let go right away, can't even think about letting go right in this second, because it's Danny, it's Danny, and he needs to be able to feel this as long as he's able. He's breathing a little quicker as he pulls away, screws his eyes shut and pushes a kiss against Danny's forehead before they're both finally moving, catching the keys Danny tosses in his direction without hesitation.

"He's going to be at the house," Steve answers, voice stern and quiet. "With Hesse and at least one other man - whoever it was operating the technology at my father's desk."

Danny follows hurriedly, moving his legs fast as they can to keep to Steve's pace. "Okay," he agrees easily. Considering they've worked this case as long as they have, Danny knows it inside and out. He feels a sick turn in his stomach and stops, just outside the apartment. "Babe, do you have your cell on you? Is he gonna..." What if Hesse calls Steve before they get there?

Steve pats himself down, checking his person for a phone before they get in the Camaro. "I had a different cell back then," he realizes, flashing back to the day itself. "Military-issued. It wouldn't be the same number, but still - " He checks his watch, tilting the face away from the glare of the early morning sun.

"We'd better get moving."

Danny's already in the passenger seat and his hands scramble to buckle up because he knows, immediately, that this is going to be one of Steve's 'both hands on the wheel' kind of days. He's trying not to think about the part where doing this might erase his whole relationship with Steve and his history with Five-0 and the one thing, outside of Grace, that makes him happy on the island.

He loves Steve. He'd do anything for him, and this definitely falls into place. "Are we gonna talk about a plan anytime soon?"

Steve doesn't typically wear a seatbelt, not because he doesn't believe in them but because he knows this car, knows every single inch of it and how it responds to him, knows these roads better than anyone - and he's going to have to get out, fast. He doesn't have time to fiddle with a seatbelt.

"Sort of working on that right now," Steve mutters, thrusting the Camaro into gear and tearing out of the parking lot with only a small squeal of tires. "I only know as much as I heard over the phone that day and what was left behind at the crime scene. My guess, Hesse has my father restrained somehow, tied up."

Danny feels like he's going to fidget himself to death at this rate, his knee hammering against the side of the car while he fidgets with his fingers rapidly. "Okay, so, I'm guessing you're gonna bust in and shoot the place up and down. You want me to untie your Dad?" Danny's been on the island for six months, at this point, and McGarrett's been at the HPD for information.

Of course they've met. Hell, they've spent a little bit of time together.

Steve doesn't need to know that, right now.

"Just get in, get him out. I'll deal with Hesse. I don't want you in there any longer than you have to be," Steve slowly answers, hands steady on the wheel even as he takes the Camaro sharply into a turn, skimming inches away from the curbside.

The house is still miles away, and Steve's gaze keeps sweeping to the dashboard clock. Few more minutes, Dad, just a few more minutes.

Danny grips for the dash when Steve takes a wild turn, closing his eyes tightly and going quiet. It's the mark that he's genuinely concerned about all of this and not just the hostage situation they're about to walk into. Danny's not sure that Steve's processed this normally. Now they're going to walk into the fray again?

Add in the possible undoing of his future and well, Danny's not exactly jumping for joy, now is he?

They're still a couple blocks down when Steve pulls the Camaro in alongside the curb, shutting the engine off and getting out quietly. He waits for Danny to follow him up the sidewalk as he takes out his gun and checks it discreetly. One in the chamber, full cartridge. He thumbs off the safety and carries it low, in both hands, walking steadily until they reach the wall of plants close to the front gate.

"I'm gonna lure Hesse's man out, separate the two of them, improve our odds," Steve whispers, drawing Danny in close against him as they crouch down in the neighboring yard. "Once I take him out, I don't want you moving in for my dad until I signal, alright? I need Hesse's attention engaged elsewhere."

Danny has a look on his face that implies he's vaguely sick to the gills about this, but he's got his gun in his hands and takes a deep breath to calm himself down before his mood can get any worse. "Yeah, yeah," he echoes in a whisper, keeping his posture low as he follows. "I got it." The house is coming into view and he can see the strange cars in front of it.

He doesn't know how, but somehow they've managed to come back to this exact day.

Steve leans in, but all he does is look at Danny, just once more, taking in the sight of him. He's pale, worried. He knows as much as Steve does about the aftermath of today - but what he doesn't know is what it felt like to hear it happen, to be thousands of miles away and unable to stop it from happening.

He nods for Danny to head around towards the back of the house and then makes his way along the fringe of tall-growing palms, ducking through thick leaves and keeping low to the ground. He knows this house, knows the layout of his childhood home, and he knows how to remain out of sight through the outlooking windows. He grabs a stone from the driveway path, aims for one and smashes it through the pane.

"Go and see what that was," he hears Hesse, audible and frustrated through the broken window. He hustles forward, rolling towards the front of the house and makes himself flat between the window and the front door, sticking his gun into his thigh holster. The other guy's gun precedes him, his forearm exposed, and Steve launches himself on silent feet, grabbing his arm and twisting his wrist to an unnatural ankle as he jabs his knee up to break the bone.

Danny keeps himself hidden where he can find cover. For all that he protests, he's spent a lot of his time at this house with Steve and he knows the inside and the out pretty damn well. He counts, patiently, trying not to go too early and ruin this for Steve. Not only that, but he doesn't want to make Hesse freak out and shoot and kill Steve. He will put a dozen bullets in Hesse if he injures a single hair on Steve's head.

So he waits.

He waits for the signal, watching Steve go postal on the accomplice.

The gun clatters across the front porch and Steve's got an arm around the other guy's neck before he can shout in pain, forearm squeezing against his throat in a move designed to incapacitate. He's not about to leave more bodies in his wake than he absolutely has to - if anything, he wants to save all his bullets for Hesse.

But first things first.

The guy slumps, after a struggle, and Steve counts to five before he releases his grip, gently laying him down to the side and going to retrieve his gun. He's not about to leave a weapon laying around where the guy can come to and use it. But he's not planning on this taking very long.

"Listen to me, Champ."

Steve stops cold, practically freezing at the sound of his father's voice. He's on the phone now, he realizes. With me. He's got the accomplice's gun in his grip, his own gun holstered and at the ready, and he slowly nudges his way into the house through the open door, moving along the walls.

"I'm sorry that I lied to you."

I have to wait. I have to wait until he's done talking.

Danny's getting impatient and when Danny is impatient, he starts to do rash things. He's itching to get inside the house and do something, but fuck if he knows what the right thing is. He waits. He waits, because he needs to wait until Steve's signal, lest he screw this up. He won't do that. Not with something this crucial.

They've agreed on a signal - a code word that Steve's going to use to cue Danny into the room, but he needs to get Hesse's attention completely on him, needs to distract him long enough for Danny to do his thing.

He holsters his gun and waits until he hears the sound of the cell phone flicking shut - and then leans up against the corner of the doorway, calling out.

"I know why you're doing this, Victor - but this isn't the way to get your brother back."

He can hear Hesse's gun cock as he lifts it, trains it on the spot where Steve is standing, but he doesn't take a shot. He knows the silence means Hesse is weighing the impossibility of Steve being here alongside the probability that things aren't about to go his way anymore.

"Looks like it's going well so far," Hesse shouts back - and Steve finally walks around the corner, both hands empty and held up, putting himself on the defensive as he comes forward slowly. The sight of his dad in the chair, eyes dark and mouth bloody, feels like a punch in the stomach.

"We can talk about this," Steve says, forcing calm and stepping along the side of the room in a wide sweep, forcing Hesse to turn his back on John if he wants to keep Steve in his line of sight. "Negotiate." There's the word, the audible signal.

Edited 2011-06-24 11:33 (UTC)

Danny swears under his breath when he hears the signal and hurries into the house using the back way that he knows exists. He's swift and keeps low, aware that Hesse is going to be occupied by Steve. Danny's on his knees behind John, as quiet as can be. "Sir, it's Detective Williams from HPD, I'm going to get you out of here," he says quietly. "Keep still, don't draw attention."

Steve's got Danny in his periphery and Hesse in his direct line of sight - which means Hesse could catch a glimpse of Danny, too, if he turns at just the right moment.

"We can give you what you want, Victor," Steve replies, keeping his hands still.

"It's a pretty simple trade," Hesse responds, his voice equally low. "My brother for your father, McGarrett."

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