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H50 Fic: The Eleventh Hour 7/13

February 14th, 2011 (09:11 am)

A/N: And now the action picks up a bit :) Happy reading!  Previous parts are here.



Danny had never actually been in a hostage situation before. At least not on the inside.

Needless to say, he had expected such an experience to be somehow more interesting.

Sure, every now and then Blaine came back with the same round of questioning before using Danny like a punching bag, and the use of the gun had had quite the dramatic impact, but the long stretches in between were filled with unconsciousness or general boredom.

For this latest phone call, Blaine had been in the office for nearly twenty minutes, if Danny's internal clock could be trusted. He'd spent the first five getting his heart rate under control after having a gun shoved in his face, but the following fifteen had been nothing but monotony.

Especially since Steve wasn't much for small talk in these situations. All that grunting and fiddling with the cuffs. The constant jerking and pulling as if it would make some kind of difference the two thousandth time he tried.

While Steve frittered away pointlessly at the handcuffs, Danny passed his time in other ways.

First, he tried figuring out just how many boxes were in the warehouse. His best guess was somewhere between sixty-two and ninety-eight, though if the place were actually used for its intended purpose, he figured it could easily house a couple of thousand, hands down. Maybe more if they forewent fire regulations and blocked off the windows.

Second, what exactly was in the boxes? They were stacked rather neatly along the far wall in careful rows. They all had lids but weren't taped down. It was obvious that the warehouse was a front for something far more nefarious, and given what he knew now about Blaine's history, he could only assume the warehouse still had some connection to drug trafficking.

But it seemed unlikely that they would keep any drug paraphernalia in boxes in the warehouse, because that would make it a pretty crappy front, especially since they had been expecting the investigation to come this far.

So what could possibly be in the boxes? And were they Blaine's boxes or Malcolm's? Or someone else's entirely?

For the record, it probably didn't matter, but Danny was handcuffed and beaten in a warehouse, and he was becoming interminably bored with sitting and waiting while Blaine seemed to edge closer and closer to offing him altogether.

All things considered, contemplating the boxes kept him from wanting to ream Steve out for getting them into this mess to begin with.

Of course, it would help if Steve weren't so annoyingly focused on playing with the handcuffs.

Steve gave another particularly hard jerk and Danny sighed in exasperation, feeling the metal slice into his wrist yet again. For the damage Blaine had inflicted to his head, Steve seemed set on topping it with damage to his wrists. "You know," he whispered, as casually as he could. "Even if you could get out of the cuffs, the kid with the gun is standing right there."

Steve paused, seeming to glance at Malcolm. The kid was still standing with his gun, watching them with vague apprehension a few feet away. He looked even less imposing than when they first woke up, with dark smudges under his eyes and disheveled hair. The fact that Malcolm seemed content to watch while Steve worked uselessly at his cuffs did nothing to indicate that Malcolm was something of a real threat, the large gun notwithstanding.

Though Danny did have a feeling that the size of the gun was an indication of the kid's lack of confidence.

Or simply his lack of aim.

Possibly both, but Danny was pretty sure he didn't want to find out for sure.

Danny smiled and nodded at him.

Steve gave the cuffs another shake. "I'm not just going to sit here," he huffed. "And I think Malcolm here can understand that."

Malcolm swallowed a little and made a concerted effort to put on a tough face. "You should just tell us what we want to know," he said, going for something of a growl but not pulling it off completely.

Steve yanked the cuffs again for good measure.

Danny sighed, shaking his head. It was like being between a rock and a hard place. He understood Steve's hardline stand on this one, he really did. Danny wasn't exactly keen on giving Blaine anything that he wanted. But - and this was a pretty important but - the illusion of cooperation might give them a little bit of wiggle room.

More than that, it might mean he would stop getting punched. "You know," Danny offered conversationally, his eyes skimming the room and landing on Malcolm for a moment, before turning back to look at Steve. "If we all just understood the art of compromise-"

"We're handcuffed," Steve cut him off. "They're threatening to kill us."

As if to prove the point, Malcolm adjusted his grip on the gun.

Danny smiled grimly. The action pulled at the bruised skin on his face and aggravating his split lip. "As if I could forget," he murmured. But then he shook his head, undaunted. "But seriously. I mean, Blaine wants his money. I want to get out of here. I'm just thinking if we could all meet each other halfway, this might be a happy ending."

"We don't negotiate with criminals," Steve said roughly, clanking the handcuffs against the back of the chair. It was the same line he'd been repeating all day, and it still sounded like crap from where Danny was sitting.

"Yes, and criminals kill people. Even cops. Especially cops who won't tell them what they want to know," Danny explained. With all the talking, he tasted blood in his mouth, and he swallowed it with a grimace.

As if on cue, Malcolm shifted from foot to foot, using one hand to scratch his ear.

All things considered, it was not exactly an impressive show of force but really, much preferable to Blaine's aggressive tactics.

Not that Steve seemed remotely aware of it.

No, his partner, ever persistent in his own stupidity, simply jerked the handcuffs again, twisting them violently this time so that Danny had to twist with him to avoid getting cut.

"They more they demand, the less I'm going to tell," Steve said stubbornly.

Danny winced, feeling warm blood well up on his wrists. As if he really needed another injury to keep track of. "You know, I think you missed the negotiation part of police work when the governor fast tracked you into service," he said lightly. Rather, as lightly as he could with a split lip, swollen face, and burning abdomen. And bleeding wrists. He couldn't forget the bleeding wrists. Oh, and his probably destroyed knee.

"Did you miss the part where I don't negotiate with criminals?" Steve asked pointedly.

Danny nodded. "Ah, yes. How could I forget. I do believe it was one of the many lines that prompted Blaine to smash his fist into my skull. Or maybe that time it was a kick. My ACL feels great, though, thanks for asking."

Steve sighed a little at that, his struggle ceasing. "Did he get you there?"

Danny snorted, trying not to sort through the many pains that plagued his body. "There and everywhere else," he reported. He didn't bother to tell Steve that it felt worse now than it did when he first tore it back in high school. "I'll be lucky if I only get a cane this time."

Steve paused. "How's your stomach? Anything particularly swollen there?"

Danny rolled his eyes. As if he could distinguish one searing pain from another. But he knew what Steve was getting at. That many blows to the abdomen were going to hurt, but a few well-placed ones could cause a slow bleed.

As if Danny needed anything else cheerful to think about during this lovely stint as a hostage. "Gee, I don't know," Danny snarked. "Perhaps you would like to conduct an exam. Oh wait, that's right. You can't because you're handcuffed."

Steve twiddled with the cuffs again, shaking his head. "You're not being very helpful."

Danny blew out a breath. "And neither are you!" he said. Because if Steve was difficult on a normal day, he was downright infuriating on days like today. Maybe it was the handcuffs, maybe it was the headache, maybe it was the stomach. Maybe it was all of it combined because Steve could hold the high ground all day long but he needed to learn how to stop pissing off the bad guys for the sheer hell of it. Danny's head was hard, but not that hard, and he would rather be able to still recognize Grace when all this was said and done.

And really, they needed a better tactic than sitting and thumbing their noses - metaphorically speaking. In truth, Danny would love to have the ability to thumb his nose at the moment, but since that was out with the handcuffs and Steve was pissing him off, maybe it was time for a little bad cop/good cop.

True, this tactic usually worked best when the other person was handcuffed, but give Malcolm's doe-eyed disposition, Danny had to think it'd be somewhat successful.

If not, it would at least be something to torque his partner off, which, as far as Danny was concerned, Steve had coming at this point. "Come on, please," Danny said, letting himself whine just a little. "Can't you give these guys something? Malcolm will be flexible. Won't you, Malcolm?"

The kid looked at him, face wavering for a moment. It was neither an affirmation or a rejection, so as far as Danny was concerned at the moment, it was a win.

"See, Malcolm's willing to meet us halfway," Danny concluded.

"If you tell us, I'll make sure Blaine knows you were cooperative," Malcolm offered, and he actually did sound sincere.

Not that Danny generally put much stock in the word of a criminal, but beggars couldn't be choosers. "Great," Danny said. "See? So give us a name. An initial maybe. We could play Hangman."

Steve paused again. "You want to play Hangman?"

Danny could see Steve's face, twisted in genuine confusion. "I'm great at hangman," he said. "And I don't know, I thought it might be more fun than playing Whack-a-Cop with my head."

Steve's head cocked.

Danny shook his head dismissively. "Don't think on it too hard."

"Hangman or Whack-a-Cop?"

Danny sighed, wishing again for full control of his hands. They were the only part of him that didn't feel broken, save for the abrasions from the handcuffs, and yet they were still completely useless to him. "I think you're missing my point."

Steve fiddled his fingers again. "No, I'm sure I'm missing the point, because I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about telling Malcolm something. Anything," Danny said, a little pleadingly. Because act or not, Danny knew he still had a point, even if Steve wasn't going to admit it. And yes, Danny was aware of the futility of his request - even the stupidity of it - but his face hurt, his head hurt, his stomach hurt, and his friggin' leg hurt, and he really, really wanted it to be for something. "Make a show of good faith."

Steve was quiet for a moment, fingers twitching restlessly. Malcolm almost looked hopeful.

Then Steve shook his head. "It won't help us, Danny," he said. "You know that."

Danny groaned, letting his head fall back in full melodramatic despair. "You're impossible," he moaned. "You're completely impossible. Masochistic, self-righteous, and impossible."

"But I'm right," Steve said simply.

"That would be the self-righteous part," Danny agreed with a nod.

"But I'm right," Steve reiterated pointlessly.

"Do you not know the definition of self-righteous?"

Steve's reply was excessively annoying. "Do you know the definition of self-righteous?"

Danny couldn't bear to justify the comment, at least not without access to a wall to slam his head against. Repeatedly.

Since that wasn't an option, Danny turned his attention elsewhere. Fixing Malcolm with an apologetic look, he shrugged. "I just want it on the record that I tried," he said. "Gave it everything I had."

Malcolm looked at him warily before retreating back to the office. When he got there, Blaine closed the door, shooting an angry look at Danny before jerking Malcolm roughly by the arm. Even though the wall, Danny could hear the heated timbre of Blaine's voice.

"You're pulling quite the show over there," Steve mused from behind him.

Danny shrugged a little, wetting his lips and trying not to notice the stinging on his lip. "How do you know it's a show?"

Steve worked his wrists. "I know," he said plainly.

With a snort, Danny shook his head. "You know?" he repeated. "Maybe I just don't like being bashed in the head repeatedly just so you can make your epic last stand."

"It's not going to be my last stand," Steve said simply.

"Of course not," Danny said. "It'll be my last stand."

"You know why I can't tell them," Steve said, his voice hedging a little.

At that, Danny felt his frustrations deflate somewhat. He did know why. He saw the logic of it, even if he didn't agree with it.

Danny made a face. "Looks like things aren't going so well on the criminal front," he said.

Steve rattled the cuffs again. "Yeah, well, they're not going so great on this end either," he said. "And what do you think you're doing? Looking for a way to get killed?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "That kid isn't a killer," he said.

"He's got a gun," Steve countered. "I thought you were against kids with guns."

"I am against kids with guns, but all things considered, I've got to pick my battles today and little Malcolm and his gun are at the bottom of my concerns."

"So, just to be clear, it's okay for a kid to have a gun as long as he's not as scary as an adult with a gun?" Steve clarified.

Danny rolled his eyes. "He's not going to shoot it," he said. "And what are you doing? I respect the determination to get out of here, I promise, I really do, but don't you think we need to revise our plan of attack just a little bit?"

"Oh, what, by getting in buddy-buddy with the kid?" Steve asked.

"Don't even," Danny said, shaking his head. "I know you're working him, too."

Steve was sullen at that, but Danny took satisfaction in the fact that he didn't disagree.

"I'm talking about our approach with Blaine," Danny continued, keeping a cautious eye on the office. Blaine was working up a heat now, pointing a finger at Malcolm while the kid was pale.

"We can't tell him anything," Steve said, sounding annoyingly like a broken record. "I told you that."

Danny sighed. "I'm not asking you to compromise your morals, Captain America," he said. "I'm not even asking you to to relinquish what little leverage you have. I'm just asking for a plan. Leverage is only leverage if you're using it to work to your advantage. You, sitting there, telling Blaine to go screw himself, really doesn't seem like you're doing anything but pissing him off."

"I'm stalling," Steve said. "Our best bet is to drag this out."

"Drag it out, yes," Danny agreed. "But if we don't give them something, they're not going to let it drag out. They're going to kill us."

"Not without the information," Steve said. "Blaine's going to a lot of trouble. He needs the name."

"Right, so we need to tell him something to whet his appetite," Danny suggested. "I mean, can't we tell him something to get him off our backs? Just for a little bit? A lead for him to check out? A hint? As fun as it is to get beat up, I'd really prefer not to go another round, especially since Blaine seems increasingly fond of his gun."

Steve drew a breath and then let it out. "He's getting desperate," he said. Then he paused, shaking his head. "It's make or break time. Blaine's playing his bluffs now."

"Yeah," Danny agreed. "But how many times will he bluff before he follows through?"

"I'm not sure he will," Steve said slowly. "He's waited this long."

"You know as well as I do he's not going to just let us go," Danny said, because it was true. He didn't want to talk about it, but it was about time they were honest or they might never come up with a plan to avoid it. "If we don't give him something, we're going to be dead."

"Chin and Kono are looking for us by now," Steve replied. "It's just a matter of time."

"But how much time?" Danny challenged. "Because I told you, I'm due to pick Grace up from school."

Steve sighed again, and Danny felt his head shake. "I just need you to trust me on this, okay?"

Danny couldn't help it: he laughed. Because it really was kind of funny. Danny couldn't see out of one eye, he had a split lip, and was probably going to be permanently stuck with a limp, and Steve wanted him to trust him. "We're handcuffed and I'm getting beaten to a pulp and you want me to trust you?"

"Getting you out in time to pick up Grace is my topmost priority," Steve said, and the son of a bitch sounded like he meant it, too. Only Steve could pull off such utter frankness even as he was staunchly responsible. "But I told you, the more you know, the more likely it is that Blaine will up his game."

Danny shook his head, feeling the sticking point come back to him again. "I still say we share the burden," he said. As much as he hated the beating he was taking, he knew it was only a matter of time until Steve got a taste of it, too. "If he's got two of us to question, he'll have to take longer with each of us."

"I know Blaine," Steve said with finality. "If he thinks you know, he'll take you out back and kill you for it. Right now, you're nothing but a bargaining chip, which makes you valuable. As long as he thinks you're just along for the ride, he's less likely to kill you."

It was hard to argue. Not because Steve was necessarily right or wrong, but because his focus was so singular. Steve was playing team leader to a predictable T. Protect the cause; protect the team. Even if that meant leaving himself ultimately vulnerable and letting his partner suffer in the interim. "Just beat me up quite thoroughly," he said lightly.

"It's better than the alternative," Steve said shortly. He paused and Danny could imagine the tight expression on his face. "Just trust me."

Danny sighed. There was so much about the plan he didn't agree with - almost fundamentally - and yet Steve was bringing it all back to trust. Steve was keeping his secrets, leaving Danny as leverage, and asking for trust. Eye swollen, lip bleeding, stomach aching, and Steve was asking for trust.

Of all the things, Steve wanted trust.

On most levels, Danny trusted Steve. He really did. He knew his partner would never intentionally get him killed or even purposefully let him get hurt. And he even knew that in his flagrant disregard for Blaine's threats, Steve really was doing it to protect Danny. It was stupid and misguided and lacked all common sense, but Danny trusted that Steve's intentions in all of this were good.

Danny even trusted that when push came to shove, Steve wouldn't sacrifice Danny's life for some so-called greater good. Steve was still new to the whole partnership thing, but he was rabid about protecting his team. Danny knew that Steve wouldn't let Danny die without giving up the name, if that was what it took.

But, the thing that bothered him most - well, second most, because the he was pretty worried that he'd have to have surgery on his knee this time - was that Steve knew more than he was letting on. There were a whole lot of pieces that Danny was missing to this puzzle. Pieces about who Blaine was and what relationship he'd had with Steve. Pieces about who the informant was and the mysteriously absent money. Pieces that drove Danny's detective brain absolutely crazy and made him want to slap Steve upside the head for playing it so close to the vest.

But trust.

Danny had to trust him. He'd had to trust him from day one, from the first time he'd played backup and gotten shot, and he hadn't stopped since. Because Steve was a moron. He was difficult and annoying and bullheaded and insane, but he cared about doing the right thing.

And yeah, despite his antics, he did care about Danny's well-being. Danny even had an apology to prove it.

Partnerships were built on trust. They were defined by trust. There was no way Danny could come in to this job, day after day, if he didn't trust Steve.

Even when it got him shot. Even when they were driving onto boats. Even when they were driving on cliffs.

Even when they were handcuffed and beaten to hell.


For all the things he didn't know, he knew Steve, and that was ultimately what mattered, even if Danny didn't like it. Especially when Danny didn't like it.

Danny sighed in resignation. "Fine," he said tersely. "I'll trust you."

"Good," Steve said, and the son of a bitch didn't even have the decency to sound relieved.

Scowling, Danny turned his head, as if to make his point clearer. "But not happily," he said.

"I'll take what I can get," Steve said hastily.

Danny shifted a little, fingers stretching in the cuffs. "That's easy for you to say since you're not the one being used as a punching bag."

"It's not that bad," Steve said, maneuvering his own wrists in another futile attempt to ascertain any weakness in the cuffs.

"That's funny," Danny said. "Me and my headache think that's very funny."

"Yeah, well, you and your headache should just quiet down now for a little bit," Steve said, his shoulders squaring a little. "We've got company."

Looking up again through his good eye, Danny could see Blaine and Malcolm making their way back through the door.

Danny grimaced in anticipation. "Wonderful," he said. "Because I sort of missed getting punched in the head repeatedly."

Steve didn't reply, but there wasn't really much time to. Blaine made short work of the distance, stopping a few feet in front of them, Malcolm taking up his normal position in the shadows.

"So," Blaine said, rubbing his hands together. He looked from Steve to Danny and back again with an efficient nod of his head. "Malcolm and I have had the most scintillating conversation."

Danny's gaze flickered back to Malcolm, who was positively skulking now, a good five feet behind Blaine.

Danny nodded with a forced smile. "I can tell."

Blaine's demeanor didn't darken. "Because it was so insightful, I decided to give you one last chance."

"I'm not telling you anything," Steve interjected, voice hard and unwavering.

A smile twitched on Blaine's lips. "But I didn't even get to ask the question."

Steve shrugged. "You don't need to," he said. "I'll spare you the effort."

Blaine nodded, still smiling. "Very thoughtful of you," he said. "But still. Perhaps for Detective Williams' sake, I should ask."

"Hey, it's not like anyone's taken me into consideration so far," Danny muttered. "Wouldn't want to strain you all now with the bother of my presence."

"Well, this one is for you," Blaine said politely. "Lieutenant Commander McGarrett, can you please tell me who your source was?"

There was a small hesitation, but Danny knew Steve well enough to know that it was nothing but dramatic effect. Steve accused Danny of liking theatrics, but Steve had his moments.

Besides, when the flat, "No," came out of Steve's mouth, no one was surprised.

Blaine nodded again, this time with a knowing regret. "I thought you might say that," he said. He looked down, scratching his ear. He looked up again with a self-deprecating shrug. "But I wanted to give you the chance."

That was almost laughable, especially given the throbbing in Danny's face, side, and knee. He hadn't had a chance this entire time, no matter what delusions of grandeur their psychotic host was harboring by this point.

It was all wrong, though. Different. Blaine was always more composed when he first came out, but this was different. It wasn't just Blaine blowing smoke or playing the part. Something had changed.

Something big.

And Danny wasn't sure he actually wanted to find out what.

Shifting uneasily, Danny wished there was something he could do or say to make this go a little bit better.

Unfortunately for him, being leverage made him valuable only as an object. And while his witty repartee was an excellent distraction, his vocal cords didn't seem to be completely functional at the moment.

Not with his heart in his throat.

If Steve knew - Danny didn't want to imagine the wonders never cease spiel.

Actually, Danny didn't want to imagine much of anything because he was pretty hard up on positive possible outcomes. All he knew for sure was that he had a hard-ass partner with all the answers but no inclination to give them and he was being held captive by someone equally as moronically hard-lined but with no moral compass to balance it out.

At least, not in a way that led to Danny coming out of this thing in one piece.

So when the psycho criminal turned hostage taker was happy even when he still wasn't getting what he wanted? It was time to be worried.

Really worried.

Not that Steve noticed.

"Your game isn't working, Blaine," Steve said. "And it's not going to. There's no point. You can leave us here and run. By the time anyone finds us, you'll be on your way off the island, free and clear."

Blaine looked thoughtful, and Danny dared to hope. It was foolish, and he knew that, but at this point, he was a little desperate to hope, actually. Even criminals had common sense, he had to figure. He didn't much count on compassion - not at this point in the entire miserable process - but there might still be hope for common sense. Sooner or later, reason had to appeal even to those who were criminally inclined.

Finally, Blaine nodded, as though reaffirming something in his mind. "You're quite right, McGarrett," Blaine said. "This game isn't working."

That wasn't exactly the answer Danny had been expecting.

He'd been expecting a "You don't know who you're messing with speech" or perhaps a monologue about all the convenient ways to dispose of a body on a supposed tropical paradise. He'd possibly been expecting an epic meltdown, the equivalent of a toddler's tantrum, right there in front of them. Punches and raging and kicks had all been in the realm of possibility.

But Blaine was serious. Really serious. The game wasn't working and he was onto it.

For a moment, almost irrationally, Danny let himself feel giddy. Maybe Blaine had changed his mind. Maybe Blaine was going to let them go. Maybe Blaine was cutting his losses, packing up and heading out, making for better times.

And Danny was okay with that. He wasn't prone to letting criminals walk free, but this time, for now, he'd make an exception, even if it meant being stuck in this warehouse a little longer. He counted his chances for survival pretty good as long as Blaine and his happy fist were out of the picture. Of course, being handcuffed to Steve for a few more hours would be unpleasant and Danny was certain he'd have to endure more twiddling and ineffective escape tactics, but at this point, the prospect was better than the way the last few hours had gone.

Hell, he'd even play scoot the chair across the floor, bum knee and all. Anything for this miserable ordeal to just be over.

And if the game was over, then it was over. Danny could move on with his life, bruises notwithstanding. He'd take them as a consolation prize.

Danny wasn't prone to such irrational conjecture, but he wanted this one. He wanted it pretty bad.

So maybe it was his foolish hope that blinded him. Or maybe Steve's calm and logical voice that had finally managed to blunt his senses entirely. Or maybe he just hadn't had the chance to think it all through yet, because he probably should have seen it coming.

Danny should have seen it, but he didn't.

In fact, Danny didn't see anything at all when the sound of a gunshot split the air.

Didn't see a damn thing before it happened. Didn't see the gun, didn't see the bullet. Didn't see the trigger being pulled. Nothing.

But he did see the shocked look on Malcolm's face, the contented smirk on Blaine's.

For a second, all he could do was stare, trying to put together what it all meant. All the pieces were there, parts of a puzzle, but he couldn't put it together. Not for the life of him.

The life of him...

Danny blinked, and his vision tunneled, his ears almost popping.

Somewhere, he heard Steve yell, scream something profane, but it was hard to make out over the ragged sound of his own breathing as his pulse pounded in his ears.

The life of him.

"But you know as well as I do, McGarrett, that running away from your problems doesn't help," Blaine continued easily, his gun finding its spot in his holster once again. He smiled. "You just have to change the game."

Change the game. He just had to change the game. What the hell did he mean by change the game?

Then Danny blinked, and his senses caught up with him. Malcolm staring and Blaine smirking and Steve yelling if he was alright, and Danny looked down, blinked again, and saw red.

Not the kind of red he saw when Rachel's lawyer sent over new paperwork. Not even the kind of red he saw when Step Stan had some new brilliant plan for Grace's future.

Literal red.

All over.

On his shirt, on his tie, some of it even seeping into his pants.


His blood.

Change the game.

The life of him.

Danny looked up, mouth open, gasping for breath as all the pieces fell into place and he got the full picture. "You shot me," he breathed, his entire body tingling now, pain a distant but vibrant feeling. "You son of a bitch. You shot me."

At the admission, Steve's struggles intensified, and he heard his partner mutter a string of curses, but couldn't find the strength to address it just yet.

Blaine inclined his head with something of an apology. "Again, I assure you, Detective Williams, it's not personal," he said. "But Lieutenant Commander McGarrett wanted to play a new game. So here we are. Either he tells me what I want to know, or he can listen to you die slowly and painfully."

Danny gaped, the numbness in his body giving way to radiating pain. His eyes watered and he choked on a cry. "I was thinking a nice game of Monopoly might suffice," he said stiffly.

Steve pulled again, jarring them both, but Danny only felt the movement distantly.

Blaine's smile widened. "I already own Park Place and Boardwalk," he said. "So how about the game of Life instead?"

Danny actually laughed, ignoring Steve's demand for answers in the background. "Not my favorite, honestly," he said. "I could have really used that two hundred bucks for passing go."

Two hundred bucks, getting the hell out of here and to the nearest hospital. Little things like that.

But given the look on Blaine's face (somewhere just shy of ecstasy and bordering on revelation) and the sound of Steve's voice (a good octave lower than normal with an added growl that Danny was sure he picked up from Christian Bale), Danny was pretty sure he wasn't going to end up with either any time soon.




Posted by: Kathy (kitmerlot1213)
Posted at: February 14th, 2011 04:32 pm (UTC)
Scott/Alex arm touch

I haven't left any feedback before because this story is just about killing me. It is extremely emotionally draining and please know that I don't mean that in a bad way but in a "I'm incredibly worried about Danny" way.

Every punch you desribed was agony to read but now that psychotic bastard shot our boy and what the hell are Steve and Danny going to do now? It would seem that Steve has vastly underestimated Blaine and overestimated his own game plan.

Can we hope that Chin and Kono show up soon? Or maybe Malcolm will be of some help.

This is a heck of a story and I hope you update soon :)

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: February 17th, 2011 02:31 am (UTC)
danny doesn't get fired

I'm sorry to create so much stress for you! But I do have an end goal in mind that I think resolves things decently, so I hope the payoff is worth it :)


Posted by: hbfan2608 (hbfan2608)
Posted at: February 14th, 2011 05:17 pm (UTC)

He shot Danno. OMG. seriously. I spend every 3rd day refreshing waiting for you to update i am loving this soooo much. AMAZING>

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: February 17th, 2011 02:32 am (UTC)
danny thoughtful

LOL. Well I will be updating in the AM tomorrow :) Thanks!

Posted by: Jill (gunslingaaahhh)
Posted at: February 14th, 2011 05:42 pm (UTC)

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: February 17th, 2011 02:32 am (UTC)
danny ready

Steve is definitely going to have to let out some of his growing emotions before the end of this :)


Posted by: alamo_girl80 (alamo_girl80)
Posted at: February 14th, 2011 05:59 pm (UTC)
Five-0 Classy McDanno

I love reading the reactions of your other readers to this, too. It's hilarious all the "OMG you SHOT HIM!" and especially the "Steve's gonna kill the bastard now!"

I think that may be what has my mouth watering most, what is Steve gonna do?

Seriously, Steve asks for trust and THIS is what it gets both of them? Guilt, party of one, your table is ready!

Fan-Five-0-tabulous! (btw, I friend-ed you so I can keep up with updates too)

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: February 17th, 2011 02:34 am (UTC)
danny steve partners

Yeah, I'm amused, too, mostly because I always knew my goal was to shoot Danny so it seemed very natural to me :)

Guilt is a lovely element of any h/c fic. If you can torture one character physically, you can do a number on the other emotionally and the angst is so much fun to write.


Posted by: sans_souci2 (sans_souci2)
Posted at: February 14th, 2011 06:48 pm (UTC)
jeep icon

incredible ride-amazing story,
loved your Danny seeing red part- pacing ramped up the scariness !
take a bow!!!

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: February 17th, 2011 02:34 am (UTC)
danny steve bust

Thank you! I'm so glad it's keeping your interest :)

Posted by: Flute (sgflutegirl)
Posted at: February 15th, 2011 12:12 am (UTC)

Holy crap, he shot Danny!!! Gah!!

I wish I could read the next part like right now.

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: February 17th, 2011 02:35 am (UTC)
danny gun bw

Next part will be up tomorrow.

(And the present is a gopher! When I first saw him, I got a little giddy...)


Posted by: Flute (sgflutegirl)
Posted at: February 17th, 2011 02:36 am (UTC)


I got 2 of them. I have to say I was a little giddy too. LOL

Posted by: ratherastory (ratherastory)
Posted at: February 15th, 2011 07:03 am (UTC)


It really was only a matter of time, wasn't it?

You are KILLING me, here.

*waits for Thursday*

Posted by: do i dare or do i dare? (faye_dartmouth)
Posted at: February 17th, 2011 02:35 am (UTC)
hawaii family

Yeah, it really was only a matter of time. I'd be a liar if I said that shooting Danny wasn't one of the main reasons I wrote this fic.

And update will be tomorrow as per normal :) Thanks!

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