A/N: Finally- the sequel to TOS has arrived, after much strife. I've completed it, so you needn't worry about updating.

Also: I enjoy Whump. Just an FYI- you can pretty much expect it from me. I've already- in this story line alone- beaten the shit out of Steve and shot him in the chest. In other story arcs of mine, my Dexter-ish pleasures become apparent; I do quite a bit of physical and psychological damage to the boys. I'm just looking for new and improved ways now. I've really needed to get creative.



Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, plotlines, and snappy catchphrases belong to CBS studios. No profit is being made in the online publication of this story.

McGarrett Residence, Saturday 0700 hours

Danny grimaced. It was, in part, because- even at seven o'clock in the morning- Hawaii managed to be one hundred and eighty degrees. Mostly, however, Danny grimaced because of the awkward paradox that was presenting itself to him.

Here he was, at some ungodly hour on a Saturday, knocking on Steve McGarrett's door. Okay, so he wasn't knocking as much as he was walking up the front steps, already planning to walk in uninvited. Still, normally it was Steve who was not knocking at his door on their day off, not the other way around.

But not today. Oh no, not today, because today Danny just had to get a call from the Governor herself at six in the morning, demanding that he go and find out why McGarrett wasn't answering her calls.

So he found himself, grumbling and grimacing and just plain unhappy in general, making his way over to his wayward Partner's house, hoping that this time, he didn't get himself shot.

Of course, knowing Steve, Danny really couldn't rule out anything.

The McGarrett house was unusually quiet when Danny stepped in, and he couldn't help but let his mind wander to a place where Steve had up and left, back on assignment like last time. Last time- when he dragged the Russian conflict all the way back to Oahu and then proceeded to get himself shot in the chest. Danny really hoped that wasn't the case- he could only take so much before dying prematurely of a brain aneurism.

"Steve?" He yelled up the stairs, not expecting a reply. It was well past seven- the SEAL would have been up for at least an hour at this point. Crazy- ass ninja and his strange, military sleep habits.

Receiving no word, he whipped out his phone, dialed, and pressed the device to his ear, hoping Steve would make his life that much easier and just answer.

Of course, that was impossible when Steve's phone rang ten feet to the left, alerting Danny to the fact that his partner's only means of communication was laying uselessly on the kitchen counter.

Danny began to panic slightly- the last time this happened…

He was two seconds away from calling Chin and Kono when the front door burst open. Danny, assuming Steve was just making an entrance, whipped around. The snarky comment died on his lips when the doorway did not reveal his partner coming back from a morning run through the jungle, and instead showed three rather ominous looking meatheads.

The one in front, perhaps the ugliest Danny thought, looked at him intensely. He was large, overtly hairy, and had a perpetual sneer plastered on his flat face. He fingered the gun on his hip, eyeing Danny's tie and slacks with a leer. Danny thanked whatever god there may be that his badge was sitting in the glove compartment of his car.

"Who're you?" The front man asked, his voice belaying that he himself was just as much of a Ha'ole as Danny. It sounded Spanish- maybe Caribbean. His tanned skin and dark eyes would attest to that.

"He's my guy." Danny whipped around once more- feeling as though he might develop whiplash- to stare at the back door.

There, in all his annoying smug SEAL glory, was Steve McGarrett. He was dressed for running, Danny noted, and appeared to have just gotten back from the beach- if the sand on his trainers was any proof. He didn't really look at Danny, but rather looked past him to the three men in the front hall.

"He's with me, Diaz. You gotta problem with that?" Steve asked, using much the same tone and grammar as the man in the hall. Danny's heart sunk. He'd seen this Steve once before, and that case had almost killed the both of them.

"I don't like new people, Sawyer. And what the hell's he wearing?" Diaz asked, staring at the tie around Danny's neck. He bristled with irritation; the last thing he wanted was more people who had something against the ties he wore.

Steve gave Danny a look that told him a) don't say shit, and b) I'm your superior in this scenario so do what I tell you to do.

"He's a cop." Diaz lurched. Danny almost did, too. At the last moment he caught himself, but he was seething. What the hell, McGarrett?

"Relax hombre," Steve said, and Danny was not surprised to find Steve had no trouble with the Spanish intonation. "He's bent. He's our ticket inside."

"I don't like it, Sawyer. I don't like them at all."

"Good thing you're not paid to care then, Diaz," Steve replied, adding just the appropriate amount of nastiness. "Now, what are you doing here?"

"Lorento sent me. He says you got the stuff he needs. That true?"

"I got what he needs."

"Give it to me."

"What, so you can cut me out of the deal and tell Lorento you did it yourself? So you can put a bullet in my head? I don't think so. Leave, and I'll meet you tomorrow."

Diaz was fuming, his flat face contorted even more in terrible anger.

"Dame las armas ahora, Sawyer, y esta no será mala!" He cried, spitting Spanish back at Steve, who remained passive but clearly wary.

"No. Esto es entre nosotros y Lorento, Díaz. Deja ahora y no voy a tener que matarte en frente de esta policía." Steve bit back menacingly, and, seemingly out of nowhere, produced a gun. It was held loosely at his side, but the safely was off. Diaz got the gist.

"Tomorrow, amigo. Lorento won't be happy to hear you've been running with a cop or hiding his products. He'll hear about this."

Steve said nothing more as Diaz and the two nameless goons turned and marched out of the door, slamming it behind them.

Silence. Ten seconds passed, and the sound of screeching tires could be heard coming from outside.

Finally, after all sounds of a car died away, Steve relaxed. The gun found its way to the kitchen counter, and Steve leaned against the granite surface, putting a hand to his face to rub his eyes.

Danny stared at him, but it was apparent he wasn't going to speak.

"What the hell, Steve? What was that? And who the hell were those people? And what did he say?"

Without looking up, Steve spoke- the sound of his voice slightly muffled by the hand in front of his face.

"They're Columbian drug runners. Diaz asked me nicely for something, and I politely declined." Danny resisted the urge to kick the taller man in the shin.

"Of course they are. Why where they in your house?"

Steve sighed monumentally. Danny noted that he absently rubbed his chest in the same place where he'd been shot just a few short months ago. Danny frowned- it shouldn't hurt after so long, but he supposed that if anybody could prolong an injury, it would be Steve. The man was a magnet for any kind of trouble anywhere in a 50 mile radius of him. He should just go ahead and be superman, because at least then he'd be bulletproof.

"Have you ever heard of the Asesinos?"

"Yeah, they're a gang from Nevada. Word is, they moved down here to take Chinese girls back to Vegas and turn them into prostitutes." Danny frowned, hating everything about the Asesinos. He could just imagine what it would be like to be the father of one of those girls. If they did that to his daughter, then, well… they wouldn't find the bodies.

"Exactly. Except that they have a hand in the firearms business, too. Two nights ago I got a call from the governor, and apparently Raul Lorento and his merry band of miscreants were coming to the island from Columbia to do business with the Asesinos. Lorento wants to exchange Asesino weapons for more than a hundred kilos of pure Columbian cocaine."

Great. Just fucking great. This couldn't have waited until Monday? Danny was seething.

"Fantastic, what does this have to do with burly men in your house on a Saturday morning?"

Steve shot Danny a look of long- suffering patience, but continued without a snarky comment. "I intercepted communications between the Columbians and the Asesinos and said I was a middle man, and that I could get Lorento what he needed."

"Uh… what?" Danny couldn't really form an intelligible reply- his mind was working overtime. Steve sounded just like he did when he was working the Petrov case, and it was not heartening at all.

"It wasn't that hard, really. I just had one of my guys hide all my info and fabricate a criminal record. Actually," Steve pondered, looking thoughtful for a moment, "It was exceedingly simple. We should remember that…"

Danny bared his teeth in irritation at his partner. Steve was entire too calm about the whole situation.

"So… you just became a criminal, waltzed into a gang deal, and now you're controlling the whole operation? How is that even possible? And, if the governor put you up to this, why in the hell did she have me come and find you and make you answer her calls?"

Steve looked at him. "She must be antsy," he said. "She wants the bust to take place as soon as possible. I think she overlooks the fact that these things take time. And yeah, I did just walk into a gang operation and take over. The Asesinos think I'm Anthony Sawyer- an arms dealer who, lucky for us, no one has met face to face. Who are the Columbians to question?"

"And… where is the real Anthony Sawyer?"

Steve eyed his partner, reluctant to say anything. Danny tapped his foot impatiently.

"He's on vacation."

"What did you do, McGarrett?"

"I asked him very nicely to take a small vacation."


"… You're just going to bitch."

"What. Did. You. Do?"

Steve sighed again, and Danny could see he was resigning himself to whatever may happen next. It made Danny want to cringe- it couldn't be good.

"I drugged him and dropped him off in a hotel on Kauai. He's being detained for public drunkenness at the Police Station there, and it will take until at least until Monday for him to get out."

Danny stared at Steve. The man was still calm, even as he told his partner about drugging and framing an arms dealer. And yet, all Danny could say was, "How did you get to Kauai and back so fast?"

"How do you think?"

"Is this where you tell me you hijacked a Navy ship and commandeered the crew to do your maniacal bidding?"

"Of course not, that's ridiculous... I borrowed a plane. It took no time at all. In fact, I did it yesterday morning."

Danny gaped. "You flew to Kauai and back before work?"

Steve eyed him. "Believe it or not, I have done this before."

"You've flown a criminal to another island in a hijacked airplane and framed him for a petty crime, all before breakfast?"

"Not that- that was new. But I am very good at the rest of it."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

"It probably shouldn't," Steve said, leaning back against the counter again and replacing the fallen hand to his face, rubbing his jaw tiredly. "We may have just blown the whole thing."

"WHAT? What the hell did I do? You're the one who told them I was a cop!"

"Well, of course I did. What the hell else could you be looking like that?"

"Oh, I don't know, a businessman. A banker. A fucking waiter for all I care."

"Have you ever actually been to Waikiki? Or Kailua? Nobody there looks like that. Plus, they would have killed anyone else on the spot. Despite being completely useless at it, they are trying to stay quiet; killing a cop would have been way too publicized. I saved your sorry ass, Williams, but I just don't know how much damage it did in the long run."

Danny huffed, and fell back into one of the stools in from of the counter where his partner leaned. He didn't know what to say, really.

"This is ridiculous. You are not an active member of the Navy- you shouldn't have to do this anymore."

Steve turned to look out at the morning sun that shone down on the beach. "I have to keep my island safe, Danny," he said quietly, not looking at him. "How else are we going to catch these bastards?"

"Hmmm… maybe we could, you know, conduct a stake out, or a raid. It's called police work, Steve."

"Don't you think they've tried that already? The Asesinos are good, and the Columbians are better. You won't catch them with a stake out."

"You just said that they were completely useless."

"No, I said they were useless at keeping quiet. Normally the Columbians- and even the Asesinos- just go ahead and overtly do whatever the hell they want."

"So, this could get really bloody really fast."


Danny heaved a great sigh, hating himself for agreeing that a stake out probably wouldn't work.

"So where does that leave us?"

"I have a meeting tomorrow to basically do the exchange. They have a boat coming in with all the cocaine, and we're supposed to have the guns ready for them at the docks."

"Every time you do anything with a dock, you get shot and I get my face bashed in."

"Once. One time that happened."

"One time is plenty, thanks-"

"Anyway," Steve cut off the rest of Danny's would- be rant. "Now that they know you're involved, things have changed. The Columbians work fast, and by now both they and the Asesinos will know who you are. They don't play games, Danny. They're going to have leverage tomorrow, and if something goes wrong, they're going to kill you, me, and anybody else who is connected with you."

Danny froze. His mind was racing- but the only words he could think of fully were no, please no.


Danny turned wide eyes to Steve, and was shocked to see how tired and gaunt his partner looked. His eyes were shadowed and his hand had a slight shake to it. Danny had never seen Steve look so broken- not even after the Petrov case, or when Officer Pinkleman died.

"I'm so, so sorry Danny," he whispered brokenly, not looking directly at him. "You shouldn't be a part of this mess. This is all my fault…"

Danny felt determination and anger rise up inside him, and something snapped. He felt such a fierce protectiveness in that single moment that he knew this case had suddenly become his responsibility just as much as it was Steve's. But he also knew that it wasn't Steve's fault that he was in danger.

"Steve? HEY! Listen to me," Danny physically shook his partner. "This is not your fault. How the hell could you have known they were going to show up? We're going to do this right, Steve. We're going to keep Chin and Kono and Gracie- and hell, even Stan and Rachel- safe from these bastards. And we're going to make sure nothing goes wrong tomorrow, because I'm going to be there with you."

"Danny, no!" Steve said vehemently, glaring at his partner. Danny was unfazed, however, and held his ground. He knew there was not a chance in hell he was going to stay away- not this time.

"This became my case too the second you said that I was a cop."

That did it; all of the fight left Steve and he seemed to deflate.

"Good. Now, I need to know what to do."

Steve stared for a second, but seemed to snap out of it as he returned to Commander Mode. For once, Danny didn't mind; he knew Steve would be completely focused and an emotional hardass for the remainder of the case in Commander Mode, and the best way to keep his Ohana safe was Rambo Steve.

"Right, " he said in his clipped, no nonsense tone, and Danny sensed the slight emotional breakdown was long gone at this point, completely run over by the scarier, SEAL side of McGarrett's brain. "We need to contact Chin and Kono, but we need to do it very quietly. We're going to have tails on us now, so discretion is key. I can't be seen near HQ, but you can."

Steve turned hard eyes to Danny, and Danny couldn't help but feel like a young soldier being sized up for a mission. He stood a little taller.

"Go to HQ, go about your day normally; do paperwork, talk to HPD, whatever you want- they can't get ears inside HQ itself, but they will have eyes on the building and any visual they get has to sell. Get a message to Chin and Kono in person- they're going to have your phone tapped. From now on, when you're using any kind of device, you're a dirty cop. Got it?"

Danny nodded and resisted the urge to yell YES SIR and salute.

"Good. After that, go to Rachel's-" Danny made to cut him off but was silenced with a hand. "Go to Rachel's and ask to see Grace. They will have eyes and ears on you, so don't say anything incriminating. Ask Rachel- loudly- if she and Stan are still taking Grace to Lanai tomorrow to see the Garden of the Gods. I'll make sure she know what you mean, and I'll arrange to have Grace, Rachel, and Stan moved to a safe location tonight."

"After you leave Rachel's, come back here. Don't try and shake the tail, and don't be surprised if there are people in here when you arrive. We'll go over the plan of attack when you get here- granted there are no drug lords, criminals, or real dirty cops around. Got it?"

"Yeah," Danny was surprised to find himself breathless. He felt a overwhelmed by everything- as though he was trying to juggle falling vases with his hands behind his back.

"Don't question anything, Danny, and don't ever look nervous. Being nervous will get you killed."

Danny nodded. "Is this how you feel every time you… work the other side?" He asked.

Steve frowned a little. "You get used to it," he said. "You learn to become someone else entirely; it's the only way to keep from going crazy."

Danny nodded again, and asked another question that had been nagging at him for the last several minutes.

"What happens when they look me up and find your face, or video feed of us doing something for the force? What then?"

Steve, despite the severity of the situation, laughed out loud.

Danny frowned, irritated at his partner's obvious lack of concern for his own safety.

"They aren't going to find my face, Danny. Have you ever seen me pose for a newspaper article? Haven't you ever wondered why I always walk on the far left side of the hall when we walk in HQ?"

"You mean… there's not one picture of you in any database?"

"Not one that they can find."

"That's… wow. You're like Sherlock Holmes."

"Uh… what?" Steve raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"You know- actually, never mind. I doubt you would understand the reference, anyway."

"That's cute. You do know that I live in the real world, right? I watch movies."

"Really? I would've thought you'd rather spend your time baiting large Samoans and shooting yourself in the foot just for the hell of it."

"Ha ha," Steve said dryly.

Danny, done poking fun at his partner, got serious again.

"Do I need to know Spanish for this little adventure?"

"Why, were you planning on learning between now and tomorrow morning?" Apparently Steve wasn't as serious as Danny at that moment.

"Laugh all you want, Ninja Boy, but- unlike you- I don't speak four languages."


Danny started. Steve just shrugged.

"Anything else I should know?"

Steve hesitated, and a small faction of the emotion he'd left behind seeped though his calm mask, before his walls flew back up again and it was gone.

"Yeah. When you're out there, you can't be Danny Williams of Five- 0 anymore. You have to be Danny Williams the dirty cop- the mole. If you think like a good guy, you're going to end up dead. You're a criminal, and you have to act like it."

Danny gulped.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Danno?" Steve asked, less harshly than before. "I can put you in protective custody too and just hope to hell they don't catch on- it seemed to work the last time."

"Hell no," Danny said with vehemence. "They threaten Grace, and I'll see to it that they all go down."

Steve smiled slightly. "There's the irritating Jersey boy I know."

"Shut up."

"That's rude," Steve said, and he put his arm on Danny's shoulder and directed him to the front door.

"Remember, you're a dirty cop, Danny," he said as Danny pulled the door open, stepped out and turned to face him. "You're a dirty cop until they're all dead or booked, or until you're arrested for aiding a criminal operation and thrown inside HPD lock up."

Danny looked up at his taller partner, getting an annoyingly familiar ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach- but it was overshadowed by a deep, and inappropriately timed, curiosity.

"What languages do you speak?"

"The important ones."

Danny just let it go and moved on. He would just have to give Steve a few more of the Vicodin he loved so much and then ask him. That's how he learned about the leg, after all. He was half- sure than Steve actually had no recollection of telling Danny that particular story, and Danny had no intention to bring it up again.

"Just curious," Danny said, not quite ready to let it go, "would you have told me about your Sunday morning escapades as an arms dealer had I not walked on your little party this morning?"

Steve seemed to genuinely ponder the question for a moment. "No. Definitely not."


"It wouldn't have mattered, really. You would have been exactly the same as you are on every Monday. No one would be the wiser."

"Do you have a lot of weekend playdates with drug dealers that you don't tell us about?"

"Not a lot."

Danny gave an exasperated sigh, but let it go.

"What are you going to do until I get back tonight?" He asked.

Steve just smiled a little and gently closed the door, leaving Danny standing alone on the porch as the early morning sunlight beat down on his head.