Work Text:
Oahu
Kono sprinted for Chin’s office, skidded to a stop at the threshold and yelled inside,
“Danny! They found Danny! He’s alive!”
Startled, Chin dropped the folder he’d been reading, jumped up and followed her into the bullpen to the tech table. The newest team members, Brian Aliki and Caitlyn Flynn, watched curiously from their offices. Before he could even ask a question, Kono was bubbling over with explanations, slender hands flying over the table and throwing up info on the wall monitors.
“A member of Joe’s team spotted him on the beach near El Rosario, Baja. She called in local support and they took him into custody this morning. Joe said it looks like he’s in rough shape and he isn’t talking. Joe is flying out from Pearl now with his team to bring him back to Oahu.”
“Any sign of Steve?”
“No, and El Rosario is a pretty small place.”
They both stared at the live video feed up on the monitor, watching as a young female officer gently questioned the silent man.
In it, a disheveled, bewildered looking Danny peered around and blinked sleepily into the camera. His unruly, sun-bleached hair was curling over his tanned forehead and his blue eyes were very bright against his dark gold skin. He looked rough –there was a healing split at the corner of his mouth and he bore the remains of a black eye as well as bruises on his stubbled jaw. Also, he was visibly thinner.
They could see more bruises and abrasions on his neck peeking from beneath the ragged, torn neck of the faded red tee shirt he was wearing. He was dressed in worn board shorts and was barefoot. He sat meekly in a folding chair against a cinder block wall, cuffed hands in his lap and ankles crossed beneath the chair, bare toes wriggling nervously.
Kono scowled at his obvious confusion.
“Why do they have him cuffed? He’s a kidnapping victim!”
They both regarded their former teammate somberly. It had been almost a year and a half since Steve had vanished into the wind, taking Danny with him and leaving a string of corpses behind. Joe had searched diligently to no avail - there were a couple of confirmed sightings of Steve months later, one in Japan and the other in France, but by the time Joe and his team arrived, he was long gone. Joe had been quite certain that Danny was one of Steve’s victims and they would never locate the body, dumped in the deep ocean as Steve fled the Islands.
This scruffy man presented a vastly different picture from their impeccably dressed colleague, but maybe that explained why Danny had made no attempt to contact Grace. Clearly he had been held prisoner for some time by the psychopath they had all once called friend.
Chin leaned in with growing unease and watched the feed closely, noting that Danny held his hands still, the right clasped over the left as though to hide it, and that the knuckles were bruised and split. He swore softly when Danny briefly tilted his face in the light and his blue eyes briefly gleamed silver. Shit, shit, shit. It was exactly what he’d been afraid of.
“Kono, where are they holding him? Is it secure? And how many men are there?”
Surprised, she raised her eyes to search his grim face as he peppered her with questions.
“There are two Navy personnel - one of them is a SEAL, the other the intelligence officer who first spotted him. The rest are local cops. I think they’re holding him at the jail in El Rosario.”
“Get Joe on the line for me, and tell him to get those people armed backup! Now, Kono!”
Her dark eyes wide at his sharp tone, she obeyed and stepped away, cell raised.
He returned his eyes to the video feed, heart thumping and felt a chill seep down his spine as Danny tilted his head and stared directly into the camera and slowly smiled.
El Rosario, Baja
Lieutenant Karen Carr leaned back in her chair with a frown, watching Detective Williams carefully. The camera on her laptop continued to record the interview.
So far, he had not responded to her gentle questioning. He was still mute and docile hours after being taken into custody and seemingly bewildered as to exactly why he was here. She took in the bruises and marks of abuse on his compact body and felt a surge of pure rage rise. The poor man had obviously been brutalized over a long period of time - when Sergeant Ramirez had cuffed him, she had noticed the raw abrasions already encircling his narrow wrists. His withdrawal and confusion were all classic signs of a rape victim.
She had nearly done a spit-take earlier, while sitting at the little outdoor café watching the other surfers, when she’d realized that the blond guy shuffling head down along the edge of the surf was one of the men she and her team had been searching for. She had quickly signaled to her friend and teammate Pete, who was on this brief leave with her, both native Californians taking advantage of the Baja waves to get their surfer fix in.
They’d approached Williams cautiously after Pete had slipped back to the motel to call for support and get his weapon. The blond man had made a beeline for the café and been in the process of laboriously digging enough coins out of his pocket to pay for a large black coffee, when backup arrived and they’d swiftly taken him into custody. He had neither protested nor fought and as far as Karen was concerned, the cuffs were merely a precaution.
“Detective Williams, you’re safe now. We’ll have you home to your daughter in no time, but I need to know where McGarrett is. How did you escape? Is he close by? You don’t have to be afraid to talk, we’ll protect you from him. He won’t hurt you again.”
He didn’t respond to the mention of his beloved daughter, merely watched her cautiously from under his lashes. He watched them all warily, eyes roaming over the bare bones room where they waited, moving from the door to the small barred window, flicking to her face, then to Pete who stood quietly behind her, on to Sergeant Ramirez who sat on a stool beside the door. He sat quietly, hands folded in his lap, but his bare toes wriggled, betraying his unease.
It was dusk when another call from Lieutenant Commander White came in. Pete, who took it, straightened from his easy slouch. Karen watched as something like fear flickered across his face as his eyes shifted to where Williams sat patiently, tongue flicking across his lower lip, now watching them intently.
“Sir? Yes, sir! Immediately, sir!” Pete motioned her out of the room, and beckoned to the portly Mexican sergeant to follow as well. Once outside, he quickly spoke in rapid-fire Spanish to the man, who nodded and hurried off, calling for several of his colleagues to assist him. Pete turned his attention back to the phone.
“It’s done, sir, I’ve arranged for an armored transport van and an armed escort. We will rendezvous with you in Cantavina tomorrow morning.” He snapped the phone closed and turned to Karen and answered her unspoken questions.
“We are to move Williams immediately. There is reason to believe that he has been infected with Viral R.”
Karen hissed out a shocked breath. She knew, of course, from training classes in handling the infected, that the new mutated strain could be passed as an STD, but the thought of that gentle family man being abused so by his former partner sickened her. When she saw the sergeant return carrying a set of heavy-duty prisoner transport restraints, complete with belly chain, cuffs and leg irons, she turned to Pete in protest.
“Come on! He’s been as gentle as a lamb! If he were infected, he would have tried to rip us apart by now! He’s traumatized, for God’s sake!”
Pete frowned down at her angry face. Karen had a big heart; it got in the way of her job sometimes.
“Orders, Lieutenant! Commander White wants him restrained in case McGarrett tries to retrieve him tonight. And McGarrett, as you well know, is a very different breed of animal.”
“You think he would try that? We haven’t seen hide or hair of him.”
“That doesn’t mean he isn’t out there, Karen. I don’t want to argue with you, but McGarrett is, was, one of the best of us. When he had an objective to accomplish, he was unstoppable. I served with him on a couple of missions, I know. In this case, better safe than sorry.”
Mutely, she folded her arms and reluctantly stood aside as he and the sergeant stepped back into the interrogation room. Williams shot her a questioning look over their heads as they bent and put the heavy shackles on him. She shook her head at him in silent apology and made a mental note to grab food and drink for him before they left. Williams stared at her for a long moment before turning his attention to the men chaining him up. He made no attempt at resistance.
In the Alley
Steve stood silently in the deep shadows outside the tiny police station, head tilted as he listened to the conversation within. A small smile curved his mouth as they began the process of moving Danny. His mate. He tamped down his growing rage. He could wait. They would pay for laying hands on his mate. A rat ran across his boot, caught his scent and squeaked in alarm as it scuttled for a bolt-hole.
He had been on his board in the water, waiting for a decent wave when he saw a hung-over Danno come shuffling down the beach from their rented shack in search of caffeine. They were out of coffee and had not restocked since they’d planned on moving on tonight, nor had Danny had his morning kisses. Steve had smirked in memory of the previous night, because it had been intense. He and Danny had gotten into an invigorating fight with some Mexican bikers at a bar, then topped the night off with some equally vigorous sex, involving some leather straps, a bottle of tequila, cinnamon lube and the sturdy iron headboard of their bed. Steve had been very pleased with the marks he’d left on his mate’s skin.
He’d ridden his wave in, only to discover his sleepy partner being hustled off in a police car.
He waited until he was sure he knew their travel plans, then slipped out of the alley and down the street where he had hidden the Harley he had stolen from one of the bikers the night before. The man wouldn’t need it anymore. The only thing with wheels he would be riding from now on was a wheelchair. The fool had tried to shank Danny in the back last night. Steve had taken his knife away and planted it neatly in his lower spine. The bike was already packed with their duffle bags, tank topped up with fuel and ready to go.
All he needed now was his Danno.
The Transport
It was almost eight p.m. before they headed out. Pete and Karen rode in the back with their prisoner while two armed guards rode in front. The old van was armored, but left a great deal to be desired when it came to passenger seating - two narrow metal benches bolted to the inside panels. A jeep with four other armed officers led the way along the bumpy, narrow road. Karen had secured a thermos of coffee and a packet of enchiladas for Danny and offered to feed them to him. He had refused the food with a shake of his head, but accepted several sips of hot, black coffee with a grateful sigh and sat back against the side of the van. The heavy chains caused him to move awkwardly as he settled back on the floor of the van, yawned and closed his eyes.
Pete kept a vigilant eye on him, borrowed shotgun in hand. He was puzzled by the man’s behavior. Pete had handled cleanup when it came to the Infected before and he had never seen an infected person act so calm. Williams simply curled up, knees tucked up to give him some chain slack and looked like he planned on napping all the way to Cantavina and possibly back to Oahu. He hoped the man got some rest, because he certainly did not envy him once the research team got their hands on him. Pete’s girlfriend Melody worked in the quarantine unit and he knew they were salivating to get their hands on McGarrett for study - Williams was the next best thing.
Karen sat back and opened her computer to try and finish her report. The van hit a pothole and she cursed as she nearly dropped her laptop. Pete braced himself in the back corner and Williams gave a grunt and wince at the jolt. He had refused to allow a doctor near him earlier and Karen was resigned to the fact that he would not allow medical treatment until they could get him to a larger facility where he could be handled more easily. She didn’t like the idea of handing the traumatized, injured man over to CDC quarantine at all, but it was the safest place for him now.
They continued driving for roughly an hour, bumping along the crooked, pothole infested gravel road while Karen pecked at her keyboard, the camera angled so she could get some video of the sleeping Williams to include, while Pete kept guard. The officers in front chatted quietly and she caught a few words about a wrestling match. It was a relatively quiet ride until the jeep escorting them suddenly exploded in front of them and flipped off the narrow road and into a deep gully. The men inside had no time to scream, much less escape.
Their driver swore and slammed on the brakes and the van skidded to the other side of the narrow road, and jolted into the narrow ditch there. Karen and Pete, unable to brace themselves, both went flying. As she slammed face first into the side of van next to Williams, and felt the hot trickle of blood from her broken nose, she realized two things. One, Williams was awake, and two he was laughing silently at them, blue eyes twinkling with amusement. He grinned at her, white teeth flashing.
“That will be Steve,” he informed her kindly.
Pete was struggling to sit up, blood streaming into his eyes from a nasty gash across his forehead; he was obviously concussed, a purple lump already forming on his forehead, movements sluggish and off kilter. He still held tightly to his weapon though, SEAL training holding.
Williams tilted his head and studied him clinically for a second, then casually twisted his compact body around and neatly snap-kicked him in the face with both feet. Pete slumped back against the side of the van, unconscious. Karen scrambled for the shotgun, only to hear the audible pop and clink of breaking chains as Williams snapped the long chain attached to his ankle shackles free and whipped it around her throat. She gagged and gasped as he pulled her back against his belly, clawing at the chain. She could feel his cuffed hands tangle in the hair at her nape as he gave her a reproving shake.
“Ah, ah, bad girl! Stay still and be good if you and your friend want to stay alive.”
Karen choked and nodded, and he loosened his iron grip enough for her to draw in a few clear breaths. There were white stars dancing in front of her eyes and mentally she was gibbering in fear at her own foolishness. Why had she trusted him? Why hadn’t she armed herself? Why was he acting this way? Was it an advanced case of Stockholm syndrome?
There was the distinct, heavy thud of boots landing on the roof of the van and she could only watch, dazed, as a long arm reached down and yanked the stunned driver out the window and up as he screamed and kicked. There was a loud crack of breaking bone and his discarded body was carelessly dropped to slide down the hood. The shotgun rider emptied his shotgun in a couple of wild shots into the roof, then broke and ran. Karen heard an amused chuckle from the roof, then a short shriek abruptly cut off by that sickening crack of bone and followed by the heavy thud of a body against the ground.
“Danno?”
“Clear, babe.”
The reinforced metal of the back doors screeched in protest as they were abruptly yanked open, the locks popping easily and Karen got her first glimpse of Commander Steve McGarrett. Long and lean and darkly tanned, he wore only a pair of torn jeans, a heavy belt and a pair of motorcycle boots. His tattooed biceps and broad shoulders glistened with sweat. He flicked a glance over her and Pete, but had eyes for only one person, whom he gave a wide, delighted grin.
“Hey, D!”
Williams snorted behind her and she could hear the amusement in his voice.
“You wanna get me out of these chains sometime tonight?’
McGarrett ran a lazy eye over him and leered. “I dunno, it’s a good look on you, baby.”
Williams huffed an exasperated breath against her hair, but she could tell he was more fond than annoyed. Pete stirred and gave a low moan of pain and McGarrett was across the van in a flash, one big hand wrapping around Pete’s throat. Karen gave a strangled cry of protest.
“No! Please!” she choked out.
McGarrett turned indifferent eyes on her, but stopped when Williams chided softly.
“Don’t, babe, he’s one of yours.”
At that, McGarrett tilted Pete’s face up and leaned close and sniffed his hair. Karen felt her bile rise when his tongue flicked out and he lapped delicately at the cut on Pete’s face, before raising his head and licking his lips, face thoughtful.
“Yeah, Pete Montgomery, a San Diego boy. Did a couple of runs with him. Good man.”
She watched as he gently slid a folded jacket under Pete’s bloody head and turned him over into the recovery position even as he removed a set of cuffs from his back pocket and cuffed Pete’s limp wrist to the metal bench bolted against the side of the van. She froze when he palmed Pete’s sidearm and then turned those cold silver-gray eyes on her, then blinked in shock when he was suddenly close and she had not even seen him move. Williams released her abruptly, the chain flipped away over her head and she took deep gulps of the cool night air gratefully.
McGarrett reached out and snagged her elbow and yanked her over to sit next to Pete, tucked Pete’s Beretta into his waistband, pulled another set of stolen cuffs out of his pocket and quickly cuffed her to the bench next to him. Strong hands deftly searched her pockets and withdrew the key to Williams’ restraints. She breathed in his rich, musky male scent and blinked in shock at the unexpected, hot surge of arousal, and could only watch numbly as he attended to his lover. And they were lovers, of that she no longer had any doubt as she watched McGarrett reach out and lovingly cup Williams’ bruised face with both big hands and take his mouth in a deep, wet kiss.
Williams responded hungrily, humming with pleasure, mouth opening eagerly for McGarrett’s insistent tongue as he returned the kiss. For a long, uncomfortable moment, they apparently forgot she was even there, then Williams gave a grunt of discomfort when he tried to raise his cuffed hands, trying to touch McGarrett in turn, only to have the belly chain thwart him.
At the small sound of pain, McGarrett raised his head with a snarl and one last nip to the blond’s lips before turning his attention to the restraints holding him captive. His big hands were huge compared to the smaller man’s as he gently cradled them in his own while he unlocked the cuffs and tenderly massaged the reddened skin. Only when he raised the left to his mouth to delicately brush a kiss on the bruised skin, did she see the heavy ring on Williams’ ring finger. He had kept it carefully hidden with his other hand the whole time he’d been in custody.
McGarrett swiftly freed his partner, scowling when the belly chain lock refused to yield to the key. He simply discarded the key and twisted and snapped the sturdy links apart with his bare hands, tossing the heavy chain aside, then pausing only to frown over the marks left by the leg irons on Williams’ ankles. He cupped and examined Danny’s small, sturdy feet. Satisfied that they were not cut or badly bruised from his lack of shoes, he ran his thumb over a tender sole and grinned at the reflexive growl and jerk he got in return, before releasing Williams and tossing the shackles away.
The speculative look he shot Karen had her cringing reflexively, because there was no pity in his hooded gaze. She froze and held her breath until Williams nudged him playfully, recapturing his attention with a nip to his stubbled jaw and a hand tugging teasingly at his belt buckle.
“Leave her, babe. She bought me food and coffee. Did you bring my shoes?”
McGarrett nuzzled his partner’s cheek and kissed him again, humming an affirmative under his breath. He raised his head and reluctantly stepped away, hopping down out of the van.
“Yeah. Wait here. There are fucking cholla and catclaw cacti everywhere.” He slipped away in the shadows.
Williams straightened and stretched languidly, and gave a happy sigh as his vertebrae popped. He then turned a sharp blue gaze on Karen before sliding down the long bench and retrieving the satellite phone and their cells, the shotgun and riffling through her purse and Pete’s wallet, helping himself to any pesos or cash he found.
He contemplated the laptop for a moment, then smashed it against the bench, snapping the fragile components easily between his hands. Then he examined the phones, scrolling through the menu on the sat phone and shooting her a mischievous glance and tapping out a brief text message - probably to Lieutenant Commander White. The phones and unloaded shotgun were then tossed out of the van, well out of reach.
Karen felt a surge of anger rise. She felt so damned stupid. Before she could stop herself, she spat out questions.
“Why? Why did you let me think you were… why do you stay with him when he hurts you? Why kill everyone?”
Williams arched a sun-bleached brow.
“I didn’t make you think anything, Lieutenant. You just assumed. Which is a classic mistake, by the way. As for the bites and bruises, well, sometimes fighting and fucking get the same result, you know?” He gave her a lascivious grin and scratched thoughtfully at the half-healed bite on the nape of his neck as he padded back to the back of the van.
He crouched there, like a scruffy, golden cat, arms on his knees while he waited, eyeing the darkness contemplatively for a moment before turning back and facing her. The smile he gave her this time was almost kind, laugh lines crinkling around bright blue eyes under the flickering ceiling light of the van.
“You probably think you were doing a good thing by bringing me in, but do you really believe they want to haul Steve and me in to find a fucking cure? No, babe, they don’t. We’re something different now, even our DNA mutated. There is no cure for that.”
His smile broadened when he saw realization dawn on her face, leaned forward and spoke quietly and intently.
“They want us for one thing, Karen; as guinea pigs, templates for super soldier designer DNA. The way Steve and I figure it, his rare blood type is the reason he changed the way he did. No, they would have used me as bait to draw Steve in, and then as hostage to his behavior. At best I would have ended up in triple max confinement and under 24 hour observation for the rest of my life, with the occasional visit - through glass, of course - with Steve, if he cooperated with their tests and ‘missions’. At worst, I would have been the one on the dissection table because Steve already is exactly what they want. So, no, thanks, we’ll pass on a lifetime of confinement and servitude. Also, I might point out, neither you or SEAL boy there are dead… yet.”
“What he said,” McGarrett growled, as he appeared silently at William’s back.
He playfully nipped Danny’s ear and handed him a bundle of clothes and a battered pair of boots. The look on his face was openly adoring as he watched Danny change - shamelessly dropping his board shorts to reveal a shapely bare ass and pulling a pair of boxer briefs and pair of faded black jeans up his well-muscled thighs.
Williams winked at the hot blush stealing over Karen’s face, since his junk was dangling practically in her face, then gave an indignant yelp when McGarrett grabbed his hips and pulled him backwards long enough for Steve to sink jealous teeth in and bite his ass cheek hard. Danny twisted around, gave him a wry look and scowled as he fastened his jeans before gingerly sitting to pull on and lace his boots.
“You eaten tonight, Stephen?”
McGarrett just gave him a wicked smirk, smoldering gaze locked with his, then deliberately licked his lips and stepped back into the darkness. Williams grinned and followed without a backwards glance and she heard the brief crunch of their boots on the gravel as they scuffled, followed by a throaty chuckle. Then there was nothing but silence, broken only by the cooling ping of the van’s engine, the crackle of flames from the burning jeep and the sound of Pete’s breathing. She put her head down on her knees and began to shake, tears stinging her eyes.
The Next Day
It was hours before Joe and the rest of the team finally tracked them down, thanks to Williams’ misleading text claiming a vehicular breakdown and a short delay. The sun was hot overhead and Karen thirstily gulped down a bottle of water as she watched Pete being loaded onto a med-evac chopper. He was feverish and had not regained consciousness and was being airlifted directly to a quarantine unit at the nearest hospital. She hoped and prayed that he wasn’t infected. She had already made a verbal report directly to White, all the time refusing to look him in the eye, tamping her anger down. She felt both used and abused - not just by McGarrett and Williams, but by the Navy and her team commander as well.
The coroner’s personnel were busy retrieving the dead police officers from the ditch and beside the van. The ones who had been in the van both had expertly broken necks. One of them was young, almost a boy. Karen noticed Joe and his SIC standing near a cluster of boulders staring down at something on the ground under a mesquite bush. She wandered over and looked for a long moment before she actually realized what exactly she was seeing. She gulped and brought a hand up to cover her mouth as her stomach lurched. Lying discarded and buzzing with flies, the remains of a large rattlesnake lay on the rocks in a small pool of congealed blood. There was little more than the head, skin and delicate vertebrae left.
It had obviously been slit down the belly and devoured raw.
She turned and staggered away towards the helicopter, intent on getting away from this whole hellish mess, ignoring Joe’s concerned call behind her. When he followed and gently grabbed her arm, she twisted and shook his hand off, hissing up into his worried face.
“You knew! You knew the whole time what they were! You let us go in unprepared! Your own team!”
“Karen…”
“Shut the fuck up, Commander. They are not just infected fugitives, and I am no longer buying that bullshit about a ‘cure’.”
She watched his face smooth into the blank mask of a professional soldier with contempt, then got right up in it, voice low enough so that only he could hear, finger stabbing his chest to get her point across.
“I want a goddamned transfer, and not to the middle of a war zone or fucking Antarctica either. You’re going to give it to me, too, otherwise my husband the New York Times journalist gets an interesting story about how the military experiments on infected people to manufacture the perfect killing machine.”
She watched his mouth snap shut with satisfaction, waited for his stiff nod, then turned and marched off to climb onboard with Pete. She might be a little slow on the uptake sometimes, but at least she had the sense to never step in the same pile of shit twice. She made a mental note to call her husband ASAP, so that if she disappeared, he could at least raise some hell using the media.
Oahu, Later that Week
Kono looked up eagerly from her computer when Joe White stepped into the office, only to feel her heart sink at the grim expression on his face as he stepped into Chin’s (once Steve’s) office and closed the door. She made no pretense of working as she waited impatiently for news. She knew that White and his team had returned from Mexico last night and she was anxious for news of Danny. From the look of resignation on Chin’s stoic face, the news was not good.
White left shortly afterwards, looking old and haggard and gave her a brief nod as he passed. She looked questioningly at Chin and he beckoned, so she stood and quickly entered his office.
Chin looked at her eager, young face with compassion. He hated having to be the one to give her this news, but his suspicions were finally confirmed. Unlike the others, he had never believed that Steve had kidnapped Danny when he left the Islands. No, Danny had gone willingly and now Chin knew why. Malia made it a point to keep up with the virology journals regarding Viral R and she kept him updated with knowledge not available to the general public and Joe had just brought him the final proof.
With a soft, “I’m sorry, Kono,” he slid the folder that Joe had given him across his desk and watched as she bit her lower lip ad reluctantly opened it and began to read.
Kono read through Lieutenant Karen Carr’s report, then the scene and autopsy reports. There was a stack of photos that she paged slowly through, feeling her bile rise. Photos of two wrecked vehicles surrounded by sprawled, scattered bodies. Karen Carr and Peter Montgomery’s battered faces. Even a photo of the remains of the snake, complete with a toxicity report showing evidence of both Steve and Danny’s saliva on the skin, was included.
She sat back and raised her eyes to Chin’s, blinking back tears.
“You knew. You knew all along that he was infected,” she accused dully.
Chin shook his head and spoke gently, “No, Kono, but I suspected. I always thought he went with Steve willingly, they were more than partners at the end there, you knew that.”
She raised her chin stubbornly.
“Danny didn’t kill any of them.”
“No, he didn’t, but he didn’t warn them about Steve or lift a finger to help them either. Kono, Danny is wearing a wedding ring - Steve’s ring. I found the jeweler’s receipt in Steve’s papers and the civil partnership papers filed at the courthouse. They’re in this thing together whether we want to believe it or not.”
He reached across and gently moved the stack of photos aside to reveal the last one, taken by an airport surveillance camera in London only a day before, according to the timestamp in the lower corner, and nudged it over. As usual, the Navy was three steps behind McGarrett.
She lifted it reluctantly, felt the hot tears start to spill down her cheeks and raised a hand to cover her mouth as she fought to keep her composure.
It was a photo of Steve and Danny, taken from behind as they walked side by side down a concourse. They had eyes only for each other, Steve smiling indulgently down at the smaller man while Danny, hands caught in mid-arc, gestured about something as he ranted up at his partner, eyes bright. It was such an ordinary picture - two guys walking along, dressed as tourists, carrying backpacks. Steve wore cargo shorts and a blue tee shirt and sunglasses with his favorite desert boots, while Danny wore a crisp white, linen button-down, short-sleeved shirt and khaki pants with sneakers.
She had seen them walk along like that a thousand times, caught in each other’s orbit, bickering happily back and forth, in the hallways at HQ, at crime scenes, in the parking lot headed for lunch. It was the sheer familiarity of the scene that broke her. Everything was the same and yet never would be again.
Dimly, she was aware of Chin moving around the desk, of him sliding his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close, even as he waved their curious, concerned colleagues away. She shrugged his comfort away, put her head down on his desk and wept for her lost friends.
Steve and Danny were no longer the men she’d known and respected and loved. If she ever saw them again, it would be at the end of a gun and nothing good would come of it, because such a meeting could only end in blood and tears. She felt she would never again be as innocent, as reckless or as bold. The team she loved no longer existed and 5-0 would never be the same again, could never be the same, those days were gone forever and she wept for that loss as well.