Notes/Disclaimer: The title is "A Cracked Mind". No doubt, you will agree that I do have just that. It was sort of a dare from a friend trying to get my brain jump-started into writing something. I do want to say that this is pure nonsense and it was not written to offend anyone. Please don't take offense...it wasn't written that way.
As for the disclaimer bit, "Why yes, thank you very much, I do happen to own them." Well, my initials are not CBS, so I guess I don't really own anything.
A Cracked Mind
"Yes! What a play." Danny Williams was up and out of the chair, waving his beer bottle at the TV screen. "And there's the kick over the goal. Up another seven points right at half time. You are so going to owe me when this is over."
Danny looked to his partner, sprawled on the couch, oblivious to the game, the shouting, or the fact that his team was losing. "Hey, McGarrett, your team is crashing over here. Wanna wake up and see? Hmmm…no? Too bad, you're still gonna owe me the money."
Not wanting to be totally heartless, he walked to the couch, just to check and make sure said partner was still breathing. After all, it was half time.
"Damn, you're going to be colorful tomorrow. And sore. And royally pissed when all those drugs wear off. Maybe I'll see if Chin or Kono can come over and watch you when that happens, cause you're going to be like a grizzly with a sore paw." He glanced at the splint on Steve's left wrist before readjusting the ice pack on the man's left knee, then examined the knot on the side of his friend's head. "Want me to get another ice pack for your head? You do? Glad to help…after all, I'm heading to the fridge for another beer anyway."
Williams rummaged through the freezer, grabbing a couple frozen Snicker bites before finding what he needed. "Here we go. Now for the beer. Hey! Didn't see the dip before. Wonder what the expiration date is? Octo—hell, no!" The container hit the garbage can before he slammed the door shut. "I'm going to charge extra for cleaning out your fridge." He opened a cabinet, checking out the food supply. "No dip, but hey, here's Fritos and Ruffles. Damn, McGarrett, you're holding out. And I thought you only ate tree bark and crickets. You're a closet junk food junkie."
He moved back to the living room and dropped his pilfered food onto the coffee table, shaking the bag of frozen peas. "Couldn't find another ice pack, so this will have to do. In the movies, they use steak, but I figure slapping a frozen t-bone up side your head might hurt like hell. Peas will do just fine. And it will put the peas to good use since they sure as hell aren't good to eat. There you go. What? You're welcome. Anytime Steven. What are partners for?"
He grabbed the bag of Fritos and the remote, settling back down in the Lazy-Boy, closely watching his partner. "I hope the doctor knows what he was doing sending you home," Danny muttered. "I know he said there was no sign of concussion, but boy, you ain't been right since we got here. And whatever was in those two pills he said take must've kicked your butt good, 'cause ten minutes later you were a zombie." Danny turned up the sound on the TV and began flipping channels during half time. "Hey, here's a game of golf. How appropriate is that, Superman? Maybe we should watch some of this."
"Want to tell me again why we're doing this?"
Steve McGarrett chewed his lower lip before answering, to keep from using his, "BECAUSE I'M THE COMMANDER, AND I SAID SO" voice with his partner.
"Danny. Listen carefully. Someone was murdered. On the golf course. The governor picked up the phone and called me to handle the case. We are now in the car, driving to the golf course where we will begin an investigation. Does any of that make sense to you?"
"What do you mean, 'which tee'? What the hell does that matter?"
"I dunno. Just curious. I mean, if he died on the 17th hole or something, we might think about getting a golf cart. And for the record, if we do, I'm driving. You would probably try to drive through the water and we would drown or you would take the curve too fast and throw me off a cliff."
"We have a murder and you want to drive around in the golf cart?"
"Sure. You don't?"
"No. I don't. Did you hit your head or something after you went home last night?"
"Not that I recall. Why?"
"High fever or anything else I should know about?"
"Steven, what is your problem? I simply do not like going to a crime scene without knowing the particulars of a case. I would like to appear knowledgeable while looking professional. Is that too much to ask?"
McGarrett glanced over at his partner, noticing the blue shirt and ever present tie. "I've got a question."
"Go for it, Superman."
"What kind of professional wears a shirt and tie to the golf course?"
"I don't know. But if you recall, I didn't know I was going to a golf course when I got ready this morning."
"So, had I called you, say 15 minutes earlier, you would have worn something different?"
"Well…no, probably not."
"Didn't think so," McGarrett replied, turning into the swank country club before being stopped at the gate and opening his window.
"Sir, your car doesn't have a member decal on the window."
Williams leaned over the seat. "That's because it is my car and it is not and never will be a member here." Holding up his badge, he added, "But we have passes. Open up."
"Yes, sir," the guard replied.
"Hey, where was the murder?"
"On the third tee, just over that hill."
"Thank you," Danny replied with a wave.
"I think I could have found it," McGarrett muttered. "I mean, while I'm not a knowledgeable, professional detective like you, I bet we could have driven up to those cars with the red and blue flashing lights and maybe asked those policemen for directions."
"I just want to be prepared."
Steve pulled in behind the HPD cruisers and parked, both men exiting the car.
"There's a cart," Danny mentioned.
"Who peed in your Cheerios this morning?"
"That's just gross. Besides I ate granola."
"Earth to 5-0," Chin spoke, moving to stand between them.
"Yeah, Chin, what do we have?" McGarrett asked as they began walking toward the tee.
"One DB. A Juan Gonzalez. One bullet to the chest, close range. Apparently Gonzalez was taken down right after his swing. The club is still in his hands."
"What can you tell us about Mr. Gonzalez?" Danny asked.
"He's been on the island for about four years. He was a patron of the arts and a friend of the governor's. In fact, she is already here waiting to speak with you."
The three team members joined Kono and Governor Jameson at the crime scene.
"Ma'am," Steve said with a nod.
"Commander, I trust this murder will be expedited and you'll find the person who did this. After all, we already know the weapon."
"We do?" Danny asked.
"Well, anyone can see that it was a golf gun," she replied.
"Governor?" Steve asked. "What is a golf gun?"
Lt. Commander Steve McGarrett burst out laughing…and promptly rolled off his couch, abruptly waking himself up.
"Whoa, Big Guy. Easy there," Danny told him, jumping up from the Lazy-Boy and dropping to the floor next to his friend. "You're going to bust something else."
McGarrett continued to laugh while lying on the floor. "You've got to admit, it was funny, right? "
"What's funny? Falling off the couch?"
"Hell, no, that hurt. The governor was funny," he continued, still uncharacteristically chuckling.
"Huh? You were dreaming about the governor?"
"No, not dreaming. I saw her this morning at the golf course." He spoke as if Danny had just gotten off the slow bus.
"No, you didn't," Williams replied, shaking his head. "'Cause she wasn't there."
"Was, too. And she made a joke. A funny one."
"Really, she didn't. She. Wasn't. There. Are you okay?"
"Was, too." He looked around his living room. "Why am I on the floor?"
Danny stared at him with concern. "Because you just rolled off the couch."
"Oh. Okay. Don't remember."
"Okay, let's get you back up. Can you sit up?"
"Ow. Ow. Ow. What the hell happened?"
"Steve, you were in an accident this morning. Remember any of that?"
"Nope." The giggling began again.
"Come on, up you go," Danny prodded, trying to grab his partner's 'good' arm. He managed to prop McGarrett against the couch before the other man started sliding the other direction. "Hey, now, watch it," he ordered while hauling him once again into a sitting position.
Williams knelt in front of him, trying to get McGarrett's attention. "Let me check your eyes. Can't believe that moronic doctor sent you home…and expected me to take care of you."
Steve was intent on checking out the splint on his left hand, holding it up close to his eyes, then from a distance, turning his head to the side.
"But it's pretty. What color's that?"
"Huh? You bird-brain – its white."
"Ah. Okay. I could be Michael Jackson. Want me to dance?"
"No. Dear God, please don't," Danny replied, holding the other man down by his shoulders. "Look at me for a minute," he ordered. "I don't care what anyone says, you've gotta have a concussion." He laughed at the expression on his partner's face. "Never thought I'd hear the words 'want me to dance' come out of your mouth. Do you even remember your name?"
"Well, what is it?"
"What is your name?" He gritted out the words through a clenched jaw, struggling not to scream.
"Steven." He wagged his finger in Danny's face. "And I know your name, too."
"Okay, what's my name?"
"You don't know? Aww, that's sad." He whispered, "But I'll tell you anyway. Your name's Danno, okay?"
"I'm gonna kill that doctor," Williams muttered. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Hmmm…" McGarrett pointed, touching one of his friend's three fingers. "One…two…SIX!"
"Okay, that's it. Back to the hospital." Danny stood, reaching down a hand for his partner.
"Nope. Don't want to."
"Not an option, Steven. You need help that I can't give. Like a padded room," was muttered beneath his breath.
"Are we going to ride in the golf cart? That's bad."
"We'll take the car. Do you even remember what happened to you?"
"THIS MORNING. Hell, do you even remember three minutes ago? What was in those pills – PCP? You're high, aren't you?"
"Nope, I'm on the floor."
"At least you remembered that." Danny's cell rang, interrupting his rant. He reached for the phone, running his other hand through his hair. "Williams," he barked into the offending instrument, while beginning to pace.
"Well, good of you to call, Dr. Chiu, because I was just getting ready to call you. We're heading back to the hospital because my partner (a) is either highly concussed or (b) flying higher than a kite right now. What the hell did you do to him?"
He leaned against the window and calmed down enough to listen for a moment. "What?" he bellowed. "You have got to be frickin' kidding me. Yeah, he passed out for about an hour, but when he woke up, he's… he's, well he should be in daycare. What kind of idiots work there? No, don't answer that."
Danny scrubbed a hand over his face and continued his pacing. "Okay, so what do I do? Hydrate, got it. You're sure? And it's gonna wear off?" He laughed. "You want me to keep him from hurting himself? You really don't know who you're talking about, do you?"
He stared out the window, trying to understand the conversation. "So, how long until he's what passes for normal? Another five to six hours? Hell, Doc, I might have to shoot him if I have to listen to this for another five hours. I'm serious, he's like a kid on speed. Okay, okay, I will, but I have your number and so help me, you'd better answer if I call."
Danny placed his phone back into his pocket and blew out his breath. "Okay, Super SEAL, we can do this." He turned back around to find his partner eating frozen peas out of the bag. "Steve, what the hell are you doing? Those are for the ice pack."
"Snacks. I like snacks," he commented, shoveling in another handful of peas.
Williams grabbed the half-empty bag of soggy peas. "Gracie's 'terrible two's' were never this bad," he mumbled. "But maybe we can get through five more hours. Alive." He thought for a second that he would call Chin and Kono but quickly decided that wouldn't be fair to his friend and commanding officer. Not that he wasn't going to tease him unmercifully, but there was no need to have two more witnesses.
"Steve, listen to me."
McGarrett was watching golf, staring at the screen, his face scrunched up in thought. "I don't like golf carts."
"That's understandable after this morning. Listen, somehow…" He knelt in front of McGarrett, blocking the view of the TV. "Steve, look at me." He grabbed the other man's face, forcing eye contact. "Are you with me?"
"Yup. Don't yell. My head hurts."
"Okay, sorry for yelling. You got double dosed with pain meds. The doctor ordered the pills I gave you but someone at the hospital read the chart wrong and gave you a shot of something before we left there. The combination of the two sent you into orbit. So…it's not your fault. At least, most of it isn't your fault. This time. Doc said you need to be hydrated, so I'm getting you some water. Sit. Stay."
Danny laughed. "What I'd give for a video camera," he mumbled. "Nobody's going to believe me. One bottle of water coming right up." He grabbed the water and opened the freezer once again, scrounging around for more frozen bags. "Lima beans…that'll do. Who the hell in their right mind has Lima beans in the freezer? McGarrett, you're just plain lolo. Oops, can't be heard speaking 'Hawaiian'. Would never live that one down."
He carried the supplies back into the den, stopping at the doorway before rushing the rest of the way across the floor. "No. No. NO. Gimme that."
Steve had Danny's relatively full beer bottle tipped up, chugging the last of it down. "That was good." He held up the empty. "More please." And then he promptly belched.
"McGarrett," he sighed. "This can't be good. Drug overdose and alcohol."
"It's all gone." He waved the empty bottle in the air.
"Yes, it's gone. And no more. You need water. Here, drink all of it." He twisted off the plastic cap and handed over the bottle.
"Yeah, well, so do I, but I guess that ain't gonna happen for either of us. Drink your water."
"I learn from the best. Drink."
McGarrett took a sip, then hiccuped. "Oops…hic…uh…I don't…hic…feel so good."
Williams noticed the green hue to his face and jumped back. "You will not hurl. I swear to God, I am not cleaning up green peas and beer." He frantically looked around for a trash can, grabbing one and bringing it back to shove in his partner's lap. "Here."
"Hic…false…alarm. Burp. That feels better."
"You are so not funny. Now, listen. I'm going to get you back up onto the couch, put another ice pack on your head and maybe you can go to sleep. For five hours. Please." He glanced at the TV realizing he never changed channels. "Damn, I'm missing the third quarter."
"Here, I've got a quarter," McGarrett offered.
"Do you just open your mouth and words fall out? Huh, SuperSEAL? You're killing me here."
"You said you wanted a third quarter but I don't see one and two."
"Forget the quarters. Sorry I mentioned it." He reached down and grasped his partner's arms. "Okay, on three. You push and I'll pull. Use this leg to push off with and be careful of your left knee. Got it? We're going on three. One…two…thr…oomph. Shit."
"Where we going?"
Danny was on the floor next to McGarrett. "Nowhere, apparently." He got up and sat on the couch, behind his partner. "Let's try it this way."
Steve was spinning the beer bottle on the floor. "Look, I made a whirly…whirlyma…whirly birdy."
"STOP IT! No more whirlys with the beer bottle."
"Spin the bottle!"
"So help me, you try to kiss me and I'll knock you into next Tuesday." He grabbed Steve under the armpits and pulled. "Come on, McGarrett, PUSH." After more cursing and many grunts of pain from both of them, Danny had his friend half on the couch and half on his own lap. "I swear this day will never be over. Next time you need someone to stay with you, I'm not available."
He was interrupted once again by the ringing of Steve's cell phone. He slid his partner onto the couch and got up to reach for the phone. "Don't move." Glancing down, he mumbled, "Guess we need to take this. This is Williams. Hello, Governor."
"Hey, tell her I like her joke, okay?"
"Quiet. No, sorry, ma'am, not you. I was talking to—never mind. You did get all the paperwork? Good. I knew Chin and Kono would handle everything. Well…I don't think he's hurt too badly, but he'll be black and blue for a while. Unfortunately—"
"Can I talk to her?"
"No. … Governor what I was trying to tell you was—"
"I. Said. No. Now can you please shut up? Sorry, ma'am, I wasn't talking to you. Steve was overdosed with the happy kind of drugs and he's a little… not himself right now.
"I'll say please."
"McGarrett, please just be quiet so I can talk. Yes, ma'am I am serious. The doc said he should crash in five to six hours. Unfortunately, I think I've got about 4 of those hours to go. Yeah, thanks. Do I get hazard pay?" With a chuckle, he hung up the phone and tossed it onto the chair. He looked back at his friend, to find him sitting once again on the floor, spinning the beer bottle.
"Forget it. Just forget it. Sit on the floor for all I care. Here," he reached for the Lima beans. "Hold this on your head."
"Ow! You hit me."
"I did not." Danny put the bag in the other man's hand and held it up to the side of his head. Just…come on, Steve. Work with me here. And don't eat them."
"You're really grumpy."
"You bring out my best side."
"Grumpy, grumpy Gus," he added in a sing-song voice.
"Where are you getting this stuff? No one's gonna believe this shit when I tell them." He sat down on the sofa and picked up the remote, letting out a breath of air. "Now, let's both relax and watch the rest of the football game, okay?" Changing the channel, he whispered, "and maybe one of us will pass out and sleep it off."
"This is boring."
"Deal with it. Hey, look, I'm still ahead. What was the bet? Fifty? Hmmm…maybe I can convince you it was $100." He glanced at McGarrett and found him nodding off. "Bet you wish you were back on the couch, huh? Too bad. You're going to be black and blue and have a crick in your neck, 'cause you're staying on the floor."
He was surprised several minutes later when the doorbell rang.
"Door!" Steve sat up straight, wide awake.
"I heard. I'll get it." Danny got up, muttering, "This better be good." He glanced out the window and saw the shiny black SUV in the drive. Opening the door, he was surprised at their guest. "Governor?"
"Hi," she began, a sheepish smile on her face. "I'm sorry…this is wrong on so many levels, but I had to see for myself."
Williams grinned at her, opening the door wider. "Did you bring a camera?"
"No incriminating evidence, Detective." They walked into the den to find Lieutenant Commander McGarrett trying to balance the beer bottle on his nose. The governor turned quickly around, unable to wipe the smile off her face. "Oh, my. He really is…is…-"
Danny laughed. "Yes, ma'am, I'm afraid he is." He grabbed his phone from his shirt pocket and quickly hit the video button. "And damn the chain of evidence, I've got to get some of this as proof." He managed to record the beer bottle toppling off his partner's nose.
Steve turned around at their voices. "Hi, Pat. I didn't know you were coming. Beer's in the fridge, so help yourself. And bring me one. Hey! You wanna play spin the bottle with me? All Danny wants to do is watch TV."
"Um, I really can't stay, Steve. I just wanted to see how you are feeling."
"I feel good." He made a face. "'Cept my head hurts. Look—" He held up his left arm. "I've got a cool glove."
"Well, yes you do. Just like Michael Jackson."
"See! I told you so," he pointed to Williams, a pleased look on his face.
The governor turned to Danny, a questioning expression on her face. She sat down in the side chair and whispered, "Are you sure you shouldn't take him back to the hospital?"
"Believe me, I wanted to. Doc seemed to think he would be just fine here. Not sure why."
"Is he going to remember any of this?"
"Who knows. If he does, I can't wait to see his reaction."
"What did happen out there this morning?" she asked.
Steve looked at her. "You were there, with your friend Juan. But now he's dead. Poor, dead Juan."
"Steve, I'm sorry but I don't remember."
"Okay, I'll start at the beginning. You'll remember when I tell you. I was driving and Danny peed in somebody's Cheerios and he wanted to drive the golf cart but then we found out that Juan was dead and you said—"
"McGarrett, please let me tell the story."
The commander huffed and turned back around. "Fine."
Danny began the real chain of events. "We met up with Chin and Kono at the golf course to discover Gonzalez' body on the third tee. He's one in the gang we've been dogging for the last three weeks."
"Right, I remember his name. I'm guessing his partners got a bit greedy."
"So, how did this happen?" she asked, waving a hand in McGarrett's direction.
"We were walking back to the car when a kid in a golf cart came up over the hill and plowed right into Steve. Knocked him down, Steve rolled, and then the kid ran over him. Sprained wrist and wrenched knee, but he hit his head pretty good when he went down. Add to that, the drug overdose …and one beer…mine, I might add, and this is what you get."
"Ouch. And you're sure nothing is broken."
"Nope," McGarrett answered her question. "But you left out the bestest part, Danny."
"Yeah...the joke. "
"Steve, there was no joke. Governor Jameson wasn't even there this morning." He turned to her, explaining, "He keeps talking about you and a joke."
"Sure she was there." He pointed his hand toward Jameson. " Governor, you said, 'We know what kind of gun it was."
He next pointed toward Williams. "And Danny said, 'We do'?"
Flying hand back to Jameson. "You said, "It was a golf gun."
Then I asked, 'What's a golf gun'?"
Both hands made an appearance at his finale. "And then you said, "I don't know, but it made a hole in Juan." He finished with peals of laughter.
They both stared at him, dumbfounded.
"Get it? It was a golf gun on the golf course and made a hole in Juan? Told you it was funny."
Governor Jameson held her hand over her mouth, smiling behind it.
Danny just continued to stare at his partner, in shock. "Steve, you told a joke."
"No, she told it," he argued, pointing to the governor. "What'sa matter with you? Don't you remember yet? " In a huff, he turned back toward the television. "You Haoles prob'ly don't even get it."
The governor couldn't hold it back any longer and began snickering, glancing at Williams. "It really is kind of funny, isn't it?"
He grinned at his partner. "Yeah, it is. Can't believe he dreamed it. And I can't believe he told a joke."
"Did he just call us Haoles?" She shook her head, laughing once again while standing. "I've got to go. But this has been…very enlightening. And well worth my time. I hate being in the office on Saturday anyway." She bent down and placed a hand on McGarrett's shoulder to get his attention. "Steve, I need to leave now but I hope you feel better. Why don't you lie down on the couch and get some rest?"
He looked at her and then looked at the couch. "Okay. Bye, Pat." He managed to crawl back up on the couch and grabbed the pillow.
Danny reached for the soggy Lima bean bag. "And you couldn't have done that when I needed a forklift to get you up there? Here." He placed the bag over the swollen area above his partner's ear. "Sleep tight."
He walked Jameson to the door. "I'm glad you came over, Governor. I felt bad about calling Chin and Kono, but now someone will know I'm not crazy when I tell this story."
"Um...sorry, Danny, but if he doesn't remember any of this, I'm going to have to plead the Fifth."
"You're one smart detective, Detective! I'll be in touch."
"I'm sure you will." He grinned and closed the door, walking back to see his partner sound asleep on the couch. Reaching for his cell, he dialed. "Hey, Chin. Did you know that the gun that killed Juan Gonzalez was a golf gun? …."