Chapter Text
They pulled the bullet-ridden Camaro out of the ocean down by the docks. The windshield was shattered and Max later found traces of Danny’s blood on the upholstery. They never found a body and when Steve, Chin and Kono dove and searched the area all they found was Danny’s service revolver still in its holster and his badge on the sandy bottom. It took a year and a half before Steve reluctantly forced himself to face the fact that his partner was dead.
Attending the memorial service while holding a sobbing Gracie’s hand nearly killed him. He had to force himself not to return to active duty—to run. But he had promised Danny to always be there for Grace and he kept that promise. His job became nothing more than a daily grind, a reason to get up, punctuated with adrenaline-fueled violence. He missed his whirlwind of a loud, opinionated, stubborn partner to a degree that shocked him. There was a Danny-sized hole in his life and nothing could fill that aching void. Steve had lost comrades before, but this was Danny. They had been close and getting cautiously closer, content to take their time—thinking that they had time to do this thing right.
He and the team searched for months trying to find Danny’s killer, but came up with nothing. No one had seen anything, heard anything or was willing to talk. Finally, they reluctantly laid the case aside and moved on. It killed Steve to think of Danny’s body forever lost in the sea. He had nightmares of swimming underwater and seeing Danny floating ahead, his body twisting languorously in the current, just out of reach.
The tsunamis hit shortly after that, the tides came in and didn’t go back out for a very long time. Hawaii was a disaster area. They had almost no aid from the government on the mainland, which was dealing with what would eventually be called End Days, or simply the Disasters. Massive earthquakes in California, volcanoes in the Pacific Northwest, tornadoes in the heartland, killer hurricanes along the east and Gulf coasts. All followed by brutally cold winters, followed in turn by cycles of killer flu viruses. Europe and Asia suffered much of the same. Governments everywhere were in chaos. Fortunately, Hawaii had the Naval base and ships to rely on for aid and protection.
Still, for over two years Hawaii was under martial law. When things settled, the Sovereign State of Hawaii was one of the few democratic states left. Under Governor Jameson’s direction, it was a small nation of its own—backed by McGarrett and 5-0, HPD, and the remaining military bases. They pulled together and dealt with would be incursions from potential invaders, Asian pacific pirates and slavers with brutal efficiency that soon earned Hawaii a reputation of self-autonomy.
This new world was one that had been pared to the bone. To seemingly top off the disasters, what remained of the US had to deal with outbreaks of a mutated bio-weapon. A virus that everyone simply called Viral Z—because that was what you became if infected; a shambling, walking corpse intent on spreading the disease. Hawaii quarantined itself and kept clean of the virus. No ship or plane landed without thorough inspection and decontamination. Life was harder now in paradise, but the people were survivors.
McGarrett was older now. Leaner now, his body honed with a rigorous exercise routine, with more gray in his close-cropped hair. He was colder too, especially since Rachel had taken Gracie back to England after Stan’s death. He ran 5-0 with an iron fist and despite the fact that he had more task force members and resources than before-- he never warmed up to the new guys. No one could or would ever replace Danny.
The new men respected him, but they didn’t like him much. It was McGarrett’s way or the highway. Still, 5-0 had finally gained the love and respect of the people of Hawaii, because they had had a bitter taste of exactly what 5-0 stood between them against, and now H5-0 could do no wrong.
Then one day, a Pan-Pacific Interpol agent walked into 5-0’s offices with something to show Steve. Liam Murphy had been on the trail of a particular slaver before the Disasters struck. Viktor Hesse, along with his brother Anton, dabbled in gunrunning, human trafficking and illegal gambling. His specialty though was cage fighting. Humans forced to fight to the death while the wealthy bet on the outcome.
He had been impossible to catch, because they could never discover the exact location of the fights. Now Liam had finally learned that they were held on an oil tanker, one that moved constantly, supposedly ferrying its innocuous cargo back and forth among various ports of call. That tanker was due to reach Hawaiian waters within a week and Liam badly needed 5-0 and the Navy's help to finally take them down because Interpol’s resources were stretched thin in this part of the world.