A/N: There's some slight inconsistencies here that don't quite jive with the first cockroach story. If you aren't a detail person, it should be fine. If I ever get bored enough, I'll go back and adjust the original story so that this works seamlessly.

"What's that?" Propped up in a hospital bed with pillows, his arm immobilized in a sling, Danny pushed away his lunch tray (which hadn't tasted good at all) and gestured at the small cigarette box in Steve's hands. "Please don't tell me you started smoking."

Steve didn't smile. "Leilani found this in Jamel's clothes," he began, tapping the battered cigarette box with one finger. "Apparently cockroaches aren't immune to drowning. I, uh… I thought you might want to have it." Steve passed the box across to Danny. "I wouldn't open it, though. He's a bit waterlogged."

Danny cracked it open and made a face. "I'm touched. And surprised. I'd figure you'd burn him." He cocked an eyebrow. "What changed?"

Steve grinned. "It was tempting. But…" he settled into the chair next to the bed, "he did save your life. Or so you said. You never finished telling me what happened."

"Oh. Yeah." One hand resting respectfully on the box, Danny leaned back and closed his eyes. "Not much to tell, really. We were headed south on the highway. Jamel was on edge, had a gun in my side. Then George came out and distracted him, hissed, ran all over the place… you know how he is. I saw an opportunity and I took it." He shrugged. "You know the rest."

"You couldn't find a way to disarm Jamel withoutdriving off a cliff?"

Danny cracked an eye open and glared. "We don't all have your skill set, Steven."

"You'll notice I don't have your injuries, either."

"Shut it," Danny warned. "I'm injured. You're supposed to play nice."

"Suddenly sensitive Daniel?"

"George may be dead, but I'm certain he has plenty of relatives who would love a certain nice pickup truck," Danny threatened. He bit back a chuckle when Steve scowled. "Seriously: thanks for bringing him over. It means a lot to me."


They buried George in the small cigarette box in the grass in Steve's backyard, just out of reach of the waves. There was no eulogy except a brief thank you from Danny who felt indebted to the roach for its final, life-saving sacrifice. He pushed the dirt and grass back over the hole and Steve pressed it down with his foot. Then they stood side-by-side, staring out at the waves.

"Bummer about your neighbor's car," Steve commented after a moment.

Danny shrugged. "It was on its last leg anyway. He was trying to get rid of it. I think insurance will pay more than any buyer would have."

"So what are you going to drive?"

"What do you mean?"

"Until your car gets out of the shop."

"My car was fixed on Tuesday, Steven."

Steve turned to him in surprise, but Danny gave no indication he had noticed. "I was actually going to pick it up the afternoon that we were in Kailua, but I ran out of time."

Steve didn't know what to say. He searched for some hint of humor in Danny's face, but the man remained impassively stoic. "So… you could've been driving your own car? Almost all week long?" He was astonished when Danny nodded. "So why didn't you pick it up?"

"Because once I saw you with George, I realized I had found someone- or something- that annoyed you more than I did. It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up."

In the dimming light, Steve saw a smirk clot Danny's face. He snorted. "You kept that stupid car all week long because of a bug?"


"That's messed up, man."

"Says you, Mr. I-Hate-Bugs."

"Was it worth it?" Steve asked. He was surprised as a deep, mischievous smile grew behind the detective's eyes. A sudden suspicion entered his mind and his eyes narrowed. How much, exactly, did Danny know about their plot to kill George and rid the car of its resident cockroach? Did he realize that the Five-0 team and his own daughter had been in league against the beast for the past week? Five seconds ago, Steve would have said Danny was clueless, but now…

As though he could read his partner's thoughts, Danny's face cracked into a wide smile. Reaching up with his good hand, he patted Steve's cheek in an endearing, if mafia-esque gesture.

"Oh yes," he said. "It was worth it."