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sealieRating: Slash; h/c
Word count: ~2,663
Warning:
Advisory: potty mouth; disability; IT’S A WIP.
Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Comments: British English spelling.
Spoilers: none, it’s an AU.
Betas: Springwoof – in the words of the incomparable Dean Winchester: you’re awesome *hugs and kisses*
Okay, today is the Second Year anniversary of The Co-operative. I never expected on the twelfth of December 2011, when I wrote a little intro chapter to a fic that was unfurling in my mind, that two years later and some 255,204 words later, I’d still be beavering away.
So the first part is here -- if you wish to indulge in some time travel. Although for the boys it’s less than two months.
The Co-operative.
By Sealie
“Freeze,” Steve ordered flatly.
Jenna Kaye froze. Danny expected everyone in a three mile radius froze at the command.
“Put your hands on the tabletop, fingers spread. Now!”
Jenna obeyed.
Steve could, and did, move like lightening when focussed. He snatched up her voluminous handbag and thrust it backwards into Danny’s hands. Dipping into the pocket of her jacket, without her uttering a word of protest, Steve pulled out a snub-nosed grey revolver. Checking the safety, he tucked it into the back of his cargoes.
“Danny, sit.” Steve pointed to the bench seat on which Mary sat. If Danny sat there she would be effectively pinned in. “Sit.”
“Excuse me,” Danny said to Mary as he sat. Part of him wanted to rail at the order, but it wasn’t the time.
The movement woke Mary up from her stunned zone.
“Steve, you can’t. Jenny--” she protested.
“Jenna,” Steve emphasised, “works for an international terrorist responsible for multiple acts of violence on US soil. You are aiding and abetting her. Shut up and listen.”
Mary slumped back in her seat, arms crossed defiantly over her chest.
“Bossy,” she grumbled.
“Mary,” he snapped.
Jenna Kaye was the total opposite to Mary. Only her hands splayed on the tabletop seemed to be stopping her eeling under the table in a puddle of misery.
Steve swung a chair around from another table and set it, long backrest facing forward, at the end of the booth to carefully hem her in.
He sat astride it with a solid thump.
“Right, Kaye.” He leaned his bandaged forearm across the back of the chair. “Why are you meeting with my sister?”
“Steve,” Mary interrupted again, relentlessly.
“I’m talking to the terrorist, Mary,” Steve said bluntly.
“I’m not a terrorist,” Jenna said to the tabletop.
“Look at me when you’re talking to me,” Steve rapped.
Jenna swallowed, throat working furiously. Her large eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“I’m not a terrorist,” she said timidly. “I just have to work for one.”
“No, you do not,” Steve said.
“I do. I do. He’s got Josh.” She sniffed loudly, drawing back mucous.
“Your fiancé, yes?” Steve said almost dismissively. “What the Hell does P-One need you for? You’re a data analyst.”
“The best data analyst you’ve met!” Jenna said with a true hint of spark.
Danny couldn’t figure her out. She effectively came off as meek and mild, but he had seen her pull a gun in a heartbeat.
“So you use your skills to enable P-One to evade capture, and continue his activities against US interests, and its citizens.” Steve raised an eyebrow.
“Yes.” Her throat was working ten to the dozen.
“How many deaths are on your conscience?” Steve asked brutally.
“Too many,” she said quietly.
“Repeat that,” Steve said uncompromisingly.
“Too many.” Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
Danny heard Mary gasp.
“What is P-One looking for in Seolh?” Steve demanded.
“I don’t know.” Jenna gripped the edge of the table, hard, until her knuckles turned white. “I just hope that it will give me leverage to get him to release Josh.”
Steve absorbed that with the implacability of an aircraft carrier bearing down on a yacht.
“I don’t believe you,” Steve said. “You’re a Harvard-trained graduate, post-graduate data analyst; you must have made an inference… or five.”
Jenna stared down at the pockmarked tabletop.
“You have to help me,” she beseeched.
“Unless you’re looking directly at me, I have a better than fifty percent chance of not understanding what you’re saying. Do you, Dr. Jenna Kaye, Harvard Graduate of the School of Engineering and Applied Science, CIA trained analyst, know what P-One is looking for?”
“It’s hidden at Seolh.” Breathing out hard, Jenna lifted her head, and stared at Steve. “I don’t know if it’s in your house or elsewhere. Wo… P-One decapitated Sang Min for attempting to burn down the house. I suspect it’s portable.”
“Does he know what it is?” Steve asked.
Danny thought that was a weird question, but also a really insightful one.
Kaye’s entire demeanour changed from cowed to intrigued in an instant.
“You know that’s really quite interesting.” She clasped her hands together as she thought hard.
“I try,” Steve said dryly.
Jenna stared directly at Steve, mouth slightly open, her expression totally contemplative. Danny didn’t even need a camera to capture it.
“No, I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t.” Jenna shook her head. “It was stolen a long time ago. In the 1980s.”
Steve glanced at Danny. Reading his mind, Danny bet that it was acquired in 1988 by one Doris McGarrett.
“Why does Wo Fat,” Danny asked, “think Steve can find this thing?”
“He’s a Naval Intelligence Officer. It’s not like Commander McGarrett is an idiot. P-One’s getting frustrated. He’s going to try and force the issue soon,” Jenna said candidly.
Steve snorted.
Jenna winced. “What are you going to do with me?” she asked softly.
“What?” But Steve twisted away in his seat and hauled out his phone.
“Please you’ve got to let me go.” Jenna shook her head violently. “Don’t call anyone.”
“You need to be debriefed.” Steve’s long fingers stroked across his Blackberry.
“I’ve got to be available to Wo Fat whenever he needs me,” Jenna said.
Steve regarded her, a predatory mongoose contemplating a nervy viper. He laughed without humour.
“The leash that Wo Fat keeps you on is long enough for you to contact and inveigle my sister to live with you, ostensibly--” Steve’s eyes narrowed, “--without him knowing. I’m betting that we can interrogate you for a couple of days before he notices.”
“Hey, are you guys going to order drinks?” The barman came up beside them, slapping a mangy towel against his palm.
Reflexively, Steve jerked.
“Rape!” Jenna screamed. She erupted out the booth. There was no finesse in her attack. She simply ploughed into Steve, fear-fuelled adrenaline likely driving her as she hit the back of his chair and forced it over. Steve toppled right into the barman.
Danny lurched to his feet, and promptly fell back on his ass as Mary tugged him down.
“Sorry!” Mary immediately apologised, holding her hands high. “Reflex!”
Danny wriggled violently off the bench seat, half leaped over Steve, stumbled, and then hared off after Jenna. He dodged around the chairs and table like a football player intent on scoring a goal.
Danny was going to catch her. Jenna had answers.
She could end this mystery.
Danny blew out of the double doors and onto the sunlit sidewalk.
“Danny. No!” Steve yelled.
Sunday after four o’clock, practically in a back alley, and Danny had an empty sidewalk before him. He scanned left and then right, trying to find her, and caught the tail end of her flowing skirt as she turned down a far street on the right. Galvanised, Danny raced after her. He sped up -- as fast as a whippet over short distances. He was going to catch her. He swung around a corner using a drain pipe like a fulcrum. Jenna ran ahead, the slap-slap of her running feet echoing loudly across the empty road.
A couple of guys -- tall, and stout -- turned the corner at the end of the block. Danny put on an edge of speed. He was catching up with her. He was gaining.
Jenna dodged to the right, around the men, stumbled for a heartbeat, but kept her feet.
Spinning, she pointed at Danny barrelling towards them.
“Help me!” She flailed in Danny’s direction.
They were good Samaritans; Danny could tell, as the taller man glared.
“Shit. No!” Danny skidded to a stop. He could also think on his feet. “She’s a thief.”
The taller guy of the pair grabbed for him. Danny ducked under his outstretched arm. David to his Goliath.
Jenna didn’t hesitate, angling out into the road and avoiding being hit by a braking SUV by a hairsbreadth. Darting around the hood, she headed straight towards the main strip of boutiques, cafés, restaurants, and street vendors.
Thick fingers scrabbled at the back of Danny’s shirt, unable to find any purchase on the well fitting fabric.
“Jesus!” Danny spun free from the guy’s hand.
“Freeze!” Steve was suddenly there, gun clasped between his outstretched hands, and murder in his eyes, as he barrelled towards them.
“No, Steve!” Danny bodily flung himself between the helpful bystanders and the incensed SEAL. “They’re friends!”
“What?” Steve didn’t lower the large, suddenly threatening, weapon. Implacable, standing tall, gun held high, unerringly pointed, he embodied incensed, cold calm.
The hole at the end of the barrel seemed massive.
“Wrong place. Wrong time.” Danny flung his hands about. “Honestly, they were just trying to help!”
Steve took in the tableau in an instant. A blink later and he was away, darting across the street after Jenna to a similar chorus of squealing brakes and blaring horns.
“What’s happening?” the tall guy demanded.
“Are you cops?” stout asked.
Danny didn’t stay around to answer; he had people to chase. He moved through the traffic more circumspectly, mainly since the cars had screeched to a halt. Emerging on the edge of tourist heaven, Danny scanned up the palm-dotted, paved esplanade. A mess of pedestrians were shying away from the running woman and chasing man.
“Steve!” he chased after them.
Steve’s giraffe legs were certainly a match for a scared Jenna. His problem, for a mere millisecond, appeared to be how to take down a woman. And then Steve delivered an almost gentle hip-check; Jenna stumbled, falling to the unforgiving hard sidewalk outside an open air café. Steve caught her arm, twisting and gracefully lowering her down to the ground in one motion. Danny was impressed.
“Hey, Dude! Are you a cop?” A guy rose from his café seat.
“He…” Jenna began, even as she lay, face pressed into the sidewalk.
“Naval officer in pursuit of a suspect,” Steve said tersely. He twisted her wrist up between her shoulder blades making her squeak.
Danny came to a stop, breathing hard, close enough to help, but giving Steve enough space to act.
“I am more than happy to wait for the Honolulu police. Shall we?” Steve asked Jenna directly, but loud enough for all the bystanders to hear.
“No,” she said meekly, to the ground.
“No funny business, or else,” Steve threatened. He hauled her to her feet, and shook her, once. Steve frogmarched her towards Danny. He canted his hip presenting his back pocket.
Unquestioningly, Danny reached in and hauled out Steve’s Blackberry.
“Who am I calling?” Danny asked flicking it on.
“Lieutenant Simons,” Steve said.
“Oh, cool, is he back?” Danny scrolled through the extensive contacts list.
“Hmm,” was Steve’s only comment, and Danny remembered that Barnabas Simons was on the heels of the Hesse Brothers. Were they back on the scene?
The phone rang once and Simons answered cursorily -- name and rank with a polite, “Yes, Commander McGarrett?” tagged on the end; he obviously had Steve in his contacts list.
“Hi, Lieutenant, it’s Danny Williams.”
“How can I help you, Mr. Williams?”
“I guess I can say that we’ve taken Jenna Kaye into custody.” Danny looked at her fleetingly. She hung her head, morose. “I think Steve wants you to come pick her up?”
Steve nodded definitely: affirmative.
“Where are you?” Lieutenant Simons asked.
~*~
Danny was a little surprised that Steve hadn’t hauled Jenna straight to his Ford and dragged her to the base himself. The response time from Pearl Harbour-Hickam should be quick, Danny guessed, knowing where they were in relation to the base. He felt like they were vulnerable loitering suspiciously on a corner. Arms crossed, Steve scanned the street, his glare a searchlight passing over the sidewalk, road, trees, shops -- relentless and inexorable.
The car that the Navy deployed was a black and low slung vehicle that ostensibly looked like a sedan, but rode really low as if made out of lead.
“You’ve killed Josh,” Jenna said forebodingly, as the reinforced sedan approached. “Wo Fat will know that you took me.”
“If you had come quietly, we Could have had a discreet interrogation, and figured out a way to address your needs and concerns.”
“You haven’t given me any reason to trust that you’ve got Josh and my interests at heart,” Jenna said pithily, eying Simons smoothly exiting the passenger seat.
“You’ve no doubt hacked my files. Read my psych profile. I haven’t given you any reason to distrust me. You, however--” Steve got precise when annoyed, “--have given me plenty of reasons to distrust you.”
“Commander,” Simons said. He didn’t salute, but his hand twitched as he overrode habit.
“Jenna Kaye.” Hand on her elbow, Steve handed her over to the lieutenant.
Lifting her chin, Jenna stepped into Simons’ custody.
“Steve?” Danny jerked his thumb at the sedan. “You going with?”
Danny figured Steve would, and he could return to Steve’s truck and -- Danny had kind of forgotten -- retrieve Mary.
“No. Simons knows what to do. Mary.”
“Sir.” Simons acknowledged as he guided Jenna into the back of the car with a hand on her head.
~*~
Mary, of course, was no longer in the bar.
“What now?” Danny stuffed his hands in his pockets, and rocked on his heels.
“I knew, I knew that I should have forced-paired her cell phone!” Steve snarled.
“Any idea where she might have gone?” Danny scanned the empty bar. Nothing ventured; nothing gained, Danny wandered over to the bartender who was watching them leery eyed as he wiped clean glasses with the horrible dish rag. Danny made a mental note to never drink in the bar.
“What do you want?” he said sullenly.
“Do you know where the blonde went?” Danny asked, and helpfully pointed to the empty booth where they had been sitting.
“No, man.” He shrugged. “You’re not cops, are you?”
“No, the woman that we chased was a … con artist.” Danny thought that that was pretty apt. “She’s… Any rate, the blonde?”
“Why should I tell you?”
Opening his wallet, Steve pulled out a folded note. He pushed a fifty dollar bill across the bar top, and kept the tip of his index finger on the edge of the bill. His fingernail turned pink with pressure.
“She sat for a while. I asked her if she wanted anything. She looked pretty upset. She got up and left.”
Steve released the bill. The bartender slapped his rag on top of it, and pulled the bill into his orbit.
“Where would an upset Mary go?” Danny asked.
Steve pondered, bottom lip automatically jutting out.
“Shopping maybe? Shoes?” he offered. “Somewhere where there are people. She likes… crowds.”
So Mary was a people person. Steve was not. It seemed suitably apposite for skirmishing siblings, Danny thought.
“The Ala Moana Centre,” the bartender offered, and then abruptly turned away, removing himself physically and mentally from the conversation.
Steve absorbed that statement.
“Good a place as any, thank you,” he said. “Sorry for the disturbance.”
“Yeah man, weird. This sort of thing normally happens after midnight.”
~*~
The mall was busy: post-Christmas sales.
There were a lot of shoe shops. Danny contemplated the deep furrow between Steve’s eyebrows. He was developing a headache, or the one he was nursing was intensifying. The mall was massive, four levels dedicated to shopping and eating, and it felt like the entire population of Honolulu and a dedicated portion of visiting tourists were buying offerings to appease the God Mammon.
“Okay. We’ll have to approach this logically.” Steve drew in a heavy breath.
“Look if there were a whole team of us, I’d go along with that. The only option is to return to the House and talk to her when she comes home. Or,” Danny said brightly, because hindsight was always twenty: twenty, “we can ask the Kapu guys if they know where she’s at? They had a team on her.”
Steve slapped his forehead.
~*~
Tbc
Part eighty three
Word count: ~2,663
Warning:
Advisory: potty mouth; disability; IT’S A WIP.
Disclaimer: writing for fun not for profit.
Comments: British English spelling.
Spoilers: none, it’s an AU.
Betas: Springwoof – in the words of the incomparable Dean Winchester: you’re awesome *hugs and kisses*
Okay, today is the Second Year anniversary of The Co-operative. I never expected on the twelfth of December 2011, when I wrote a little intro chapter to a fic that was unfurling in my mind, that two years later and some 255,204 words later, I’d still be beavering away.
So the first part is here -- if you wish to indulge in some time travel. Although for the boys it’s less than two months.
The Co-operative.
By Sealie
“Freeze,” Steve ordered flatly.
Jenna Kaye froze. Danny expected everyone in a three mile radius froze at the command.
“Put your hands on the tabletop, fingers spread. Now!”
Jenna obeyed.
Steve could, and did, move like lightening when focussed. He snatched up her voluminous handbag and thrust it backwards into Danny’s hands. Dipping into the pocket of her jacket, without her uttering a word of protest, Steve pulled out a snub-nosed grey revolver. Checking the safety, he tucked it into the back of his cargoes.
“Danny, sit.” Steve pointed to the bench seat on which Mary sat. If Danny sat there she would be effectively pinned in. “Sit.”
“Excuse me,” Danny said to Mary as he sat. Part of him wanted to rail at the order, but it wasn’t the time.
The movement woke Mary up from her stunned zone.
“Steve, you can’t. Jenny--” she protested.
“Jenna,” Steve emphasised, “works for an international terrorist responsible for multiple acts of violence on US soil. You are aiding and abetting her. Shut up and listen.”
Mary slumped back in her seat, arms crossed defiantly over her chest.
“Bossy,” she grumbled.
“Mary,” he snapped.
Jenna Kaye was the total opposite to Mary. Only her hands splayed on the tabletop seemed to be stopping her eeling under the table in a puddle of misery.
Steve swung a chair around from another table and set it, long backrest facing forward, at the end of the booth to carefully hem her in.
He sat astride it with a solid thump.
“Right, Kaye.” He leaned his bandaged forearm across the back of the chair. “Why are you meeting with my sister?”
“Steve,” Mary interrupted again, relentlessly.
“I’m talking to the terrorist, Mary,” Steve said bluntly.
“I’m not a terrorist,” Jenna said to the tabletop.
“Look at me when you’re talking to me,” Steve rapped.
Jenna swallowed, throat working furiously. Her large eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“I’m not a terrorist,” she said timidly. “I just have to work for one.”
“No, you do not,” Steve said.
“I do. I do. He’s got Josh.” She sniffed loudly, drawing back mucous.
“Your fiancé, yes?” Steve said almost dismissively. “What the Hell does P-One need you for? You’re a data analyst.”
“The best data analyst you’ve met!” Jenna said with a true hint of spark.
Danny couldn’t figure her out. She effectively came off as meek and mild, but he had seen her pull a gun in a heartbeat.
“So you use your skills to enable P-One to evade capture, and continue his activities against US interests, and its citizens.” Steve raised an eyebrow.
“Yes.” Her throat was working ten to the dozen.
“How many deaths are on your conscience?” Steve asked brutally.
“Too many,” she said quietly.
“Repeat that,” Steve said uncompromisingly.
“Too many.” Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
Danny heard Mary gasp.
“What is P-One looking for in Seolh?” Steve demanded.
“I don’t know.” Jenna gripped the edge of the table, hard, until her knuckles turned white. “I just hope that it will give me leverage to get him to release Josh.”
Steve absorbed that with the implacability of an aircraft carrier bearing down on a yacht.
“I don’t believe you,” Steve said. “You’re a Harvard-trained graduate, post-graduate data analyst; you must have made an inference… or five.”
Jenna stared down at the pockmarked tabletop.
“You have to help me,” she beseeched.
“Unless you’re looking directly at me, I have a better than fifty percent chance of not understanding what you’re saying. Do you, Dr. Jenna Kaye, Harvard Graduate of the School of Engineering and Applied Science, CIA trained analyst, know what P-One is looking for?”
“It’s hidden at Seolh.” Breathing out hard, Jenna lifted her head, and stared at Steve. “I don’t know if it’s in your house or elsewhere. Wo… P-One decapitated Sang Min for attempting to burn down the house. I suspect it’s portable.”
“Does he know what it is?” Steve asked.
Danny thought that was a weird question, but also a really insightful one.
Kaye’s entire demeanour changed from cowed to intrigued in an instant.
“You know that’s really quite interesting.” She clasped her hands together as she thought hard.
“I try,” Steve said dryly.
Jenna stared directly at Steve, mouth slightly open, her expression totally contemplative. Danny didn’t even need a camera to capture it.
“No, I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t.” Jenna shook her head. “It was stolen a long time ago. In the 1980s.”
Steve glanced at Danny. Reading his mind, Danny bet that it was acquired in 1988 by one Doris McGarrett.
“Why does Wo Fat,” Danny asked, “think Steve can find this thing?”
“He’s a Naval Intelligence Officer. It’s not like Commander McGarrett is an idiot. P-One’s getting frustrated. He’s going to try and force the issue soon,” Jenna said candidly.
Steve snorted.
Jenna winced. “What are you going to do with me?” she asked softly.
“What?” But Steve twisted away in his seat and hauled out his phone.
“Please you’ve got to let me go.” Jenna shook her head violently. “Don’t call anyone.”
“You need to be debriefed.” Steve’s long fingers stroked across his Blackberry.
“I’ve got to be available to Wo Fat whenever he needs me,” Jenna said.
Steve regarded her, a predatory mongoose contemplating a nervy viper. He laughed without humour.
“The leash that Wo Fat keeps you on is long enough for you to contact and inveigle my sister to live with you, ostensibly--” Steve’s eyes narrowed, “--without him knowing. I’m betting that we can interrogate you for a couple of days before he notices.”
“Hey, are you guys going to order drinks?” The barman came up beside them, slapping a mangy towel against his palm.
Reflexively, Steve jerked.
“Rape!” Jenna screamed. She erupted out the booth. There was no finesse in her attack. She simply ploughed into Steve, fear-fuelled adrenaline likely driving her as she hit the back of his chair and forced it over. Steve toppled right into the barman.
Danny lurched to his feet, and promptly fell back on his ass as Mary tugged him down.
“Sorry!” Mary immediately apologised, holding her hands high. “Reflex!”
Danny wriggled violently off the bench seat, half leaped over Steve, stumbled, and then hared off after Jenna. He dodged around the chairs and table like a football player intent on scoring a goal.
Danny was going to catch her. Jenna had answers.
She could end this mystery.
Danny blew out of the double doors and onto the sunlit sidewalk.
“Danny. No!” Steve yelled.
Sunday after four o’clock, practically in a back alley, and Danny had an empty sidewalk before him. He scanned left and then right, trying to find her, and caught the tail end of her flowing skirt as she turned down a far street on the right. Galvanised, Danny raced after her. He sped up -- as fast as a whippet over short distances. He was going to catch her. He swung around a corner using a drain pipe like a fulcrum. Jenna ran ahead, the slap-slap of her running feet echoing loudly across the empty road.
A couple of guys -- tall, and stout -- turned the corner at the end of the block. Danny put on an edge of speed. He was catching up with her. He was gaining.
Jenna dodged to the right, around the men, stumbled for a heartbeat, but kept her feet.
Spinning, she pointed at Danny barrelling towards them.
“Help me!” She flailed in Danny’s direction.
They were good Samaritans; Danny could tell, as the taller man glared.
“Shit. No!” Danny skidded to a stop. He could also think on his feet. “She’s a thief.”
The taller guy of the pair grabbed for him. Danny ducked under his outstretched arm. David to his Goliath.
Jenna didn’t hesitate, angling out into the road and avoiding being hit by a braking SUV by a hairsbreadth. Darting around the hood, she headed straight towards the main strip of boutiques, cafés, restaurants, and street vendors.
Thick fingers scrabbled at the back of Danny’s shirt, unable to find any purchase on the well fitting fabric.
“Jesus!” Danny spun free from the guy’s hand.
“Freeze!” Steve was suddenly there, gun clasped between his outstretched hands, and murder in his eyes, as he barrelled towards them.
“No, Steve!” Danny bodily flung himself between the helpful bystanders and the incensed SEAL. “They’re friends!”
“What?” Steve didn’t lower the large, suddenly threatening, weapon. Implacable, standing tall, gun held high, unerringly pointed, he embodied incensed, cold calm.
The hole at the end of the barrel seemed massive.
“Wrong place. Wrong time.” Danny flung his hands about. “Honestly, they were just trying to help!”
Steve took in the tableau in an instant. A blink later and he was away, darting across the street after Jenna to a similar chorus of squealing brakes and blaring horns.
“What’s happening?” the tall guy demanded.
“Are you cops?” stout asked.
Danny didn’t stay around to answer; he had people to chase. He moved through the traffic more circumspectly, mainly since the cars had screeched to a halt. Emerging on the edge of tourist heaven, Danny scanned up the palm-dotted, paved esplanade. A mess of pedestrians were shying away from the running woman and chasing man.
“Steve!” he chased after them.
Steve’s giraffe legs were certainly a match for a scared Jenna. His problem, for a mere millisecond, appeared to be how to take down a woman. And then Steve delivered an almost gentle hip-check; Jenna stumbled, falling to the unforgiving hard sidewalk outside an open air café. Steve caught her arm, twisting and gracefully lowering her down to the ground in one motion. Danny was impressed.
“Hey, Dude! Are you a cop?” A guy rose from his café seat.
“He…” Jenna began, even as she lay, face pressed into the sidewalk.
“Naval officer in pursuit of a suspect,” Steve said tersely. He twisted her wrist up between her shoulder blades making her squeak.
Danny came to a stop, breathing hard, close enough to help, but giving Steve enough space to act.
“I am more than happy to wait for the Honolulu police. Shall we?” Steve asked Jenna directly, but loud enough for all the bystanders to hear.
“No,” she said meekly, to the ground.
“No funny business, or else,” Steve threatened. He hauled her to her feet, and shook her, once. Steve frogmarched her towards Danny. He canted his hip presenting his back pocket.
Unquestioningly, Danny reached in and hauled out Steve’s Blackberry.
“Who am I calling?” Danny asked flicking it on.
“Lieutenant Simons,” Steve said.
“Oh, cool, is he back?” Danny scrolled through the extensive contacts list.
“Hmm,” was Steve’s only comment, and Danny remembered that Barnabas Simons was on the heels of the Hesse Brothers. Were they back on the scene?
The phone rang once and Simons answered cursorily -- name and rank with a polite, “Yes, Commander McGarrett?” tagged on the end; he obviously had Steve in his contacts list.
“Hi, Lieutenant, it’s Danny Williams.”
“How can I help you, Mr. Williams?”
“I guess I can say that we’ve taken Jenna Kaye into custody.” Danny looked at her fleetingly. She hung her head, morose. “I think Steve wants you to come pick her up?”
Steve nodded definitely: affirmative.
“Where are you?” Lieutenant Simons asked.
~*~
Danny was a little surprised that Steve hadn’t hauled Jenna straight to his Ford and dragged her to the base himself. The response time from Pearl Harbour-Hickam should be quick, Danny guessed, knowing where they were in relation to the base. He felt like they were vulnerable loitering suspiciously on a corner. Arms crossed, Steve scanned the street, his glare a searchlight passing over the sidewalk, road, trees, shops -- relentless and inexorable.
The car that the Navy deployed was a black and low slung vehicle that ostensibly looked like a sedan, but rode really low as if made out of lead.
“You’ve killed Josh,” Jenna said forebodingly, as the reinforced sedan approached. “Wo Fat will know that you took me.”
“If you had come quietly, we Could have had a discreet interrogation, and figured out a way to address your needs and concerns.”
“You haven’t given me any reason to trust that you’ve got Josh and my interests at heart,” Jenna said pithily, eying Simons smoothly exiting the passenger seat.
“You’ve no doubt hacked my files. Read my psych profile. I haven’t given you any reason to distrust me. You, however--” Steve got precise when annoyed, “--have given me plenty of reasons to distrust you.”
“Commander,” Simons said. He didn’t salute, but his hand twitched as he overrode habit.
“Jenna Kaye.” Hand on her elbow, Steve handed her over to the lieutenant.
Lifting her chin, Jenna stepped into Simons’ custody.
“Steve?” Danny jerked his thumb at the sedan. “You going with?”
Danny figured Steve would, and he could return to Steve’s truck and -- Danny had kind of forgotten -- retrieve Mary.
“No. Simons knows what to do. Mary.”
“Sir.” Simons acknowledged as he guided Jenna into the back of the car with a hand on her head.
~*~
Mary, of course, was no longer in the bar.
“What now?” Danny stuffed his hands in his pockets, and rocked on his heels.
“I knew, I knew that I should have forced-paired her cell phone!” Steve snarled.
“Any idea where she might have gone?” Danny scanned the empty bar. Nothing ventured; nothing gained, Danny wandered over to the bartender who was watching them leery eyed as he wiped clean glasses with the horrible dish rag. Danny made a mental note to never drink in the bar.
“What do you want?” he said sullenly.
“Do you know where the blonde went?” Danny asked, and helpfully pointed to the empty booth where they had been sitting.
“No, man.” He shrugged. “You’re not cops, are you?”
“No, the woman that we chased was a … con artist.” Danny thought that that was pretty apt. “She’s… Any rate, the blonde?”
“Why should I tell you?”
Opening his wallet, Steve pulled out a folded note. He pushed a fifty dollar bill across the bar top, and kept the tip of his index finger on the edge of the bill. His fingernail turned pink with pressure.
“She sat for a while. I asked her if she wanted anything. She looked pretty upset. She got up and left.”
Steve released the bill. The bartender slapped his rag on top of it, and pulled the bill into his orbit.
“Where would an upset Mary go?” Danny asked.
Steve pondered, bottom lip automatically jutting out.
“Shopping maybe? Shoes?” he offered. “Somewhere where there are people. She likes… crowds.”
So Mary was a people person. Steve was not. It seemed suitably apposite for skirmishing siblings, Danny thought.
“The Ala Moana Centre,” the bartender offered, and then abruptly turned away, removing himself physically and mentally from the conversation.
Steve absorbed that statement.
“Good a place as any, thank you,” he said. “Sorry for the disturbance.”
“Yeah man, weird. This sort of thing normally happens after midnight.”
~*~
The mall was busy: post-Christmas sales.
There were a lot of shoe shops. Danny contemplated the deep furrow between Steve’s eyebrows. He was developing a headache, or the one he was nursing was intensifying. The mall was massive, four levels dedicated to shopping and eating, and it felt like the entire population of Honolulu and a dedicated portion of visiting tourists were buying offerings to appease the God Mammon.
“Okay. We’ll have to approach this logically.” Steve drew in a heavy breath.
“Look if there were a whole team of us, I’d go along with that. The only option is to return to the House and talk to her when she comes home. Or,” Danny said brightly, because hindsight was always twenty: twenty, “we can ask the Kapu guys if they know where she’s at? They had a team on her.”
Steve slapped his forehead.
~*~
Tbc
Part eighty three
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2013-12-12 08:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-12 08:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-12 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-12 08:23 pm (UTC)I'm really curious what Mary is up to.
Thank you!
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Date: 2013-12-12 08:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-12 10:28 pm (UTC)Of all the people I feel badly for, it's probably Mary. She's desperately trying to cling to something (the friendship between her and Jenny) she thought was great even though everything she's seeing is to the contrary.
I have a tiny bit of sympathy for what Jenna is going through, but I don't know that I could be the cause of so many death just to cling to the hope that my one person is going to be alive/unharmed.
I hope they're able to find Mary before Wo Fat decides to go after her and use her for leverage with Steve.
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Date: 2013-12-19 11:49 am (UTC)It's hard not to feel sympathy for Jenna (imho), it's just, man, she's all alone in the world. I don't think that she has any happy endings.
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Date: 2013-12-12 11:29 pm (UTC)Happy Anniversary!!! I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed the last two years of this saga. It's been a joy to escape and wallow in every chapter. I treat it like a weekly episode so thank you for the love and care.
This chapter was so intriguing, it feels like set of dominoes were set off with this. Jenna's in custody, but she said Wo Fat is growing frustrated. eeep. Love the semi interrogation at the bar and subsequent chase.
Now, where did our lost Lamb, Mary run off to?
:)
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Date: 2013-12-19 11:54 am (UTC)A frustrated Wo Fat is an interesting thing -- I think that your domino analogy is quite apt.
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Date: 2013-12-13 12:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-19 11:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-13 03:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-19 11:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-13 09:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-19 11:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-19 09:54 pm (UTC)I wanted to say that I love this story and really enjoy your writing and characterizations. I really enjoyed reading and rereading the first part on AO3 and was SO excited to find out you were doing a second season that I could follow from the start. I love all of the characters in this AU, but I have to say I love your descriptions of Danny as a photographer and his artistic vision, and I look forward to where you will take this part of the storyline.
Thanks!
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Date: 2013-12-20 09:22 pm (UTC)thank you for taking the time to comment.