Young Assassins, 1/1, Hawai'i Five-0
Nov. 14th, 2010 08:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveTitle: Young Assassins
Author: james
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,100
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Summary: 'Young Assassins' is episode one of season seven, wherein Danny and Professor Metzger are kidnapped. This is my version of the reboot of the ending of that episode, which had entirely too little comfort, even of the conventional establishment manly sort.
He sits in the darkness, facing the door -- only because he spun right around when they threw him in does he know he's facing the door. He can't see a thing, knows that when the door opens he'll be blinded, too blind to see anything that will help him. Danny tries closing his eyes and listening, not because he will hear anything now but because he'll have to rely on that when the door opens.
He doesn't think it'll help him. He doesn't think hearing the sound of a footstep or a gun being cocked will tell him whether to dive left or right, or if there will be two of them or three or just one. He won't be able to hear if there is an arm within reach, a gunman stupidly moving too close and allowing his captive to grab an arm and yank, off-balance and then stumbling out to make an escape.
But it's all Danny has right now, and he's working with what he's got. The professor isn't proving to be much help -- Danny suspects claustrophobia and maybe a small panic attack. He's sitting in the corner, whispering quietly to himself and Danny has tried telling him they're getting out of here, they're going to be fine, that Steve and the others will rescue them. Nothing seems to get through so Danny leaves him to it, because trapped in a small bunker in the dark with no cell phone reception and no gun and no way of knowing what their captors' plans are for them -- the professor's imagination isn't the only one working overtime. The possibilities are endless and Danny knows there are a lot more ways they could end up dead than not.
He doesn't like that part of himself, the pragmatist that accepts the harsh side of everything as just part of life. He smirks to himself; look at him, living in a tropical paradise. Who wouldn't love it? But Danny knows he sees so much that's wrong with it and the only bright spot is his daughter -- Danny freezes his thoughts there, because thinking about dying and thinking about Grace dealing with that isn't something he can handle. He'd be sitting in the corner along with Metzger, gibbering and pulling out his hair and generally going batshit insane instead of pretending there's anything he can do.
When the door opens he discovers he was right -- the sunlight slams into his eyes and it's an actual, physical pain all the way through his skull. It's so sharp that he almost mistakes it for the slice of a bullet; he forgives himself the error as his ears ring and his reflexes fling him into action -- too late, the door is slamming shut again and the pain in his skull from the light isn't fading and the reverberation of a gunshot is making his head spin and he knows without fumbling in the dark for confirmation that he isn't the one who was shot.
The silence tells him all he needs to know, so he doesn't bother trying to feel his way. There's no laboured gasping for air, no soft wheezes of pain. It was instant, or nearly so, which means a headshot and Danny just doesn't need brains all over his hands if he can help it.
Facing the door again he tries to decide if he wants to know what negotiation has just failed or if the kids who kidnapped them at gunpoint this morning had a raging need to kill the professor and Danny just got in the way.
He doesn't know if he'll be next, or if they've got what they wanted and they're packing up to leave, or if Steve and the others are just over the hill and the next time the door opens it'll be Steve and he'll apologize for being too late to save them both.
Danny realises he's breathing too fast and he wonders if the bunker is airtight. Will he suffocate before anyone can decide what to do about him? If they leave, will he be stuck in here with a bloody corpse until the stench drives him to desperation?
He presses his hands against the door and pushes, but just like the first twenty times he's tried, nothing gives. There are no sounds on the other side of the door, no sounds on this side of the door, either. He doesn't know if he should apologize to the professor for not doing something to save him, but Danny barely knows who these people are, has no clue what it is they want, and he's fairly sure that no one could blame him for failing to keep the man alive.
That doesn't stop the creeping guilt, and he knows it will be a very long time before he stops hearing the sound of that gunshot in his sleep. When he sleeps -- he's done this sort of thing before, and the sleepless nights and vicious nightmares and throwing himself into the job to escape the soft voices in his mind are only part of what drove Rachel away from him. But they certainly didn't help matters, that's for sure, and Danny is stupidly grateful that if he gets out of this one he'll be disturbing no one's life but his own as he struggles with the demons this day will give him.
He's leaning against the door, breathing too fast and too hard, and he pushes himself away. He closes his eyes again because hearing is all he has, the flashes of after-images still clouding his retinas and there is nothing to reach out and touch that will help him. Concrete and rock and blood, the cooling body and soft fabric of clothing -- Metzger doesn't have anything in his pockets that will help. They'd determined that five minutes after being thrown in here, when Danny had tried calling for help and got no signal until the battery on his cell died and even the light was gone.
His own pockets gave him nothing, nothing that could dig through concrete or kill a man who opens the door with a gun pointing in.
The door creaks and the thin crack of light stabs at his still-sore eyes and Danny tenses, already leaping -- backwards, away, as if that will buy him enough time to live.
But the sound that reaches him is a voice saying, "Danno?" and all he can do is stumble out, into the sunlight and the deserted military base they'd been brought to, and Danny can smell the blood and dirt and ozone as he reaches out, grabbing onto whatever he can get because there is no one pointing a gun at his head and he's being pulled forward, bumping against a body that is warm and clean and alive.
Danny buries his face in Steve's chest and takes deep, shuddering gulps of air, and he doesn't think about how soon he has to move because Steve is holding onto him tightly enough that he's pretty sure it isn't going to be an issue for awhile. Maybe a long, long while, and Danny is really very okay with that. Because Steve is talking, and moving, and the sunlight hurts Danny's eyes until they're watering.
the end
Author: james
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,100
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Summary: 'Young Assassins' is episode one of season seven, wherein Danny and Professor Metzger are kidnapped. This is my version of the reboot of the ending of that episode, which had entirely too little comfort, even of the conventional establishment manly sort.
He sits in the darkness, facing the door -- only because he spun right around when they threw him in does he know he's facing the door. He can't see a thing, knows that when the door opens he'll be blinded, too blind to see anything that will help him. Danny tries closing his eyes and listening, not because he will hear anything now but because he'll have to rely on that when the door opens.
He doesn't think it'll help him. He doesn't think hearing the sound of a footstep or a gun being cocked will tell him whether to dive left or right, or if there will be two of them or three or just one. He won't be able to hear if there is an arm within reach, a gunman stupidly moving too close and allowing his captive to grab an arm and yank, off-balance and then stumbling out to make an escape.
But it's all Danny has right now, and he's working with what he's got. The professor isn't proving to be much help -- Danny suspects claustrophobia and maybe a small panic attack. He's sitting in the corner, whispering quietly to himself and Danny has tried telling him they're getting out of here, they're going to be fine, that Steve and the others will rescue them. Nothing seems to get through so Danny leaves him to it, because trapped in a small bunker in the dark with no cell phone reception and no gun and no way of knowing what their captors' plans are for them -- the professor's imagination isn't the only one working overtime. The possibilities are endless and Danny knows there are a lot more ways they could end up dead than not.
He doesn't like that part of himself, the pragmatist that accepts the harsh side of everything as just part of life. He smirks to himself; look at him, living in a tropical paradise. Who wouldn't love it? But Danny knows he sees so much that's wrong with it and the only bright spot is his daughter -- Danny freezes his thoughts there, because thinking about dying and thinking about Grace dealing with that isn't something he can handle. He'd be sitting in the corner along with Metzger, gibbering and pulling out his hair and generally going batshit insane instead of pretending there's anything he can do.
When the door opens he discovers he was right -- the sunlight slams into his eyes and it's an actual, physical pain all the way through his skull. It's so sharp that he almost mistakes it for the slice of a bullet; he forgives himself the error as his ears ring and his reflexes fling him into action -- too late, the door is slamming shut again and the pain in his skull from the light isn't fading and the reverberation of a gunshot is making his head spin and he knows without fumbling in the dark for confirmation that he isn't the one who was shot.
The silence tells him all he needs to know, so he doesn't bother trying to feel his way. There's no laboured gasping for air, no soft wheezes of pain. It was instant, or nearly so, which means a headshot and Danny just doesn't need brains all over his hands if he can help it.
Facing the door again he tries to decide if he wants to know what negotiation has just failed or if the kids who kidnapped them at gunpoint this morning had a raging need to kill the professor and Danny just got in the way.
He doesn't know if he'll be next, or if they've got what they wanted and they're packing up to leave, or if Steve and the others are just over the hill and the next time the door opens it'll be Steve and he'll apologize for being too late to save them both.
Danny realises he's breathing too fast and he wonders if the bunker is airtight. Will he suffocate before anyone can decide what to do about him? If they leave, will he be stuck in here with a bloody corpse until the stench drives him to desperation?
He presses his hands against the door and pushes, but just like the first twenty times he's tried, nothing gives. There are no sounds on the other side of the door, no sounds on this side of the door, either. He doesn't know if he should apologize to the professor for not doing something to save him, but Danny barely knows who these people are, has no clue what it is they want, and he's fairly sure that no one could blame him for failing to keep the man alive.
That doesn't stop the creeping guilt, and he knows it will be a very long time before he stops hearing the sound of that gunshot in his sleep. When he sleeps -- he's done this sort of thing before, and the sleepless nights and vicious nightmares and throwing himself into the job to escape the soft voices in his mind are only part of what drove Rachel away from him. But they certainly didn't help matters, that's for sure, and Danny is stupidly grateful that if he gets out of this one he'll be disturbing no one's life but his own as he struggles with the demons this day will give him.
He's leaning against the door, breathing too fast and too hard, and he pushes himself away. He closes his eyes again because hearing is all he has, the flashes of after-images still clouding his retinas and there is nothing to reach out and touch that will help him. Concrete and rock and blood, the cooling body and soft fabric of clothing -- Metzger doesn't have anything in his pockets that will help. They'd determined that five minutes after being thrown in here, when Danny had tried calling for help and got no signal until the battery on his cell died and even the light was gone.
His own pockets gave him nothing, nothing that could dig through concrete or kill a man who opens the door with a gun pointing in.
The door creaks and the thin crack of light stabs at his still-sore eyes and Danny tenses, already leaping -- backwards, away, as if that will buy him enough time to live.
But the sound that reaches him is a voice saying, "Danno?" and all he can do is stumble out, into the sunlight and the deserted military base they'd been brought to, and Danny can smell the blood and dirt and ozone as he reaches out, grabbing onto whatever he can get because there is no one pointing a gun at his head and he's being pulled forward, bumping against a body that is warm and clean and alive.
Danny buries his face in Steve's chest and takes deep, shuddering gulps of air, and he doesn't think about how soon he has to move because Steve is holding onto him tightly enough that he's pretty sure it isn't going to be an issue for awhile. Maybe a long, long while, and Danny is really very okay with that. Because Steve is talking, and moving, and the sunlight hurts Danny's eyes until they're watering.
the end