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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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."

It's not like Danny's done nothing to pick up what McGarrett knows over time and so he taps out some morse code against John's arm, hoping to god that father is like son and understands. Slow. Let's go is what he taps, unable to tear his eyes off of Steve, unable to help himself.

He mouths 'goodbye' and then 'I love you', but then they're out, the ropes loose and John able to move.

There's a noise - and Steve sees it before it happens, a place in the floor that his father habitually steps over, a creaky floorboard that he's never had the opportunity to fix but keeps meaning to, and Danny's foot collides with it, and Steve stiffens despite himself.

No.

Hesse is spinning around, gun at the ready, and Steve takes a step forward to leap, to tackle him to the ground, but somehow, somewhere in the fray, the gun goes off.

Danny's breath catches in his throat when he sees the elder McGarrett go down for the count. His breath catches in his throat and he lets out a slight and panicked cry, gaping at Steve like he can't do a thing. He gets down to his knees to try and coax John through it, but the shot's hit an artery.

It's too late.

"Steve," Danny says, voice raw. "Steve, get over here, we have to get out of here."

Steve's not listening. His anger is a wave of rage in his head, his vision goes red and all he can focus on is making Hesse hurt. Making him pay. The gun flies across the floor of John McGarrett's office and there's a spreading mess of blood beneath his father's body and Steve's got Hesse pinned, throwing punch after punch, fist connecting hard with his jaw even after Victor gets a few shots in of his own.

He doesn't hear Danny, not when Victor gets his feet up underneath him and knees Steve off, hard enough to send him flying back against the wall, his breath effectively knocked out of him, and Steve's going for his gun but Hesse is already running, away from the sound of approaching sirens, diving through the open window out onto the lanai.

Steve doesn't have to look at his father to know that he's already dead.

Danny pushes himself to his feet and scrambles to Steve's side to grab hold of his shirt with two hands, hauling him in close to his body where he can glare at him as effectively as possible. "Steven, we need to get out of here," he insists, pressing his lips to Steve's temple and closing his eyes.

It's long enough, just long enough, that everything goes dizzy for about five seconds and when Danny opens his eyes again, he's lying in the pull-out bed with the sun shining in the windows and Steve is beside him all over again.

He feels, frankly, a little sick.

"Steve?" Danny asks warily.

Steve closes his eyes, turning away from the sight of his father's lifeless body. He'd never had to see it when it happened before - and now that he has, he can feel the anger burning up inside him, raging, mixing with overwhelming grief until he's not certain where one starts and the other begins.

He opens his eyes, sits up in bed, and buries his face in his hands - silent, tense and trembling with emotion.

"Fuck, Steve, babe," is all Danny gets out, his words desperate and aching for a kind of grief that he's never had to experience in his life. There's nothing that can stop Danny from leaning forward and sliding both palms up Steve's back to mold his body tightly against his, pressing kisses down his back slowly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

It's happening all over again: the sound of the police radio lightly buzzing in the background, the twinges in his back from waking up in the pull-out bed. Steve lifts his head from his hands to the sight of the room bathed in early morning light and his clothes scattered in every direction, his badge and his gun resting on the table next to the pull-out. There's a tightness in his chest that he can't force away as he reaches for one of Danny's hands, drawing it in and around to his front, clutching it in a tight grip against his own heart, his eyes hard and determined. "I'm gonna kill him," he whispers.

Danny lets out a mild sigh, knowing that he can't dissuade Steve from doing this, not when Danny's of the same mindset. He closes his eyes and presses his cheek to Steve's back, nodding his head. "I know," he says, that sick sound not going away. He pulls away to start grabbing his clothes, dressing with a lethargy in his muscles that he chalks up to exhaustion and grief. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I will," Steve promises, even though considering his own safety at this juncture is hardly the first thing that comes to mind, and he dresses mechanically, quietly, his jaw clenching as he shoves his gun into his holster. "We're going to do this, because I am not going to watch my father die in front of me today."

Danny wraps his arms around his knees as he watches Steve get ready, pushing himself to his feet as he tries to convince himself that Steve is right and that he will be able to stop Hesse. "Think if we kill Hesse, we go back to the island? The other island," he corrects himself. "Or maybe we kill him, your Dad lives, and things just...stay that way."

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