Danny 'Danno' Williams (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hatesparadise) wrote2020-12-14 11:06 am
hatesparadise) wrote2020-12-14 11:06 am
That's Still Classified (Bagram AFB), Afghanistan - Monday Afternoon Fandom Time
After Cath's phonecall, Danny had used that guaranteed portal thingy from 'Santa' to get back home in time to both contact Joe White and raise enough of a stink with Naval command using every tiny fraction of leverage he'd earned on Five-0 to get himself put on a military transport out to Afghanistan.
Which, on the multiple hour long trip with some moderately confused soldiers, he'd started to think might have been a bad idea. But they'd taken his Intel at face value (probably because of Joe) and Steve had been rescued from a situation that made Danny's stomach clench and breathing become difficult if he thought about it for any length of time.
And there'd been plenty of time while he waited to be allowed to see him in the infirmary. Thank God he was still Steve's primary emergency contact.
[for the guy]
Which, on the multiple hour long trip with some moderately confused soldiers, he'd started to think might have been a bad idea. But they'd taken his Intel at face value (probably because of Joe) and Steve had been rescued from a situation that made Danny's stomach clench and breathing become difficult if he thought about it for any length of time.
And there'd been plenty of time while he waited to be allowed to see him in the infirmary. Thank God he was still Steve's primary emergency contact.
[for the guy]
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In his head, though, Steve was still stuck in that undisclosed location:
Steve woke up strapped to a chair, and he really, really wished this was the first time it'd ever happened. Cold, damp, under-lit cave-like facility: check. Concussion: check. Bruised ribs: check. Surrounded by goons: check.
"Where is the woman?" Omar Hassan, still alive, great, well done everyone, yelled. In English, which was nice for his pounding head, but was also not a question Steve was remotely inclined to answer.
His answer in silence was countered by a nice solid punch to the ribs. He grunted because something had definitely bruised, but remained silent aside from that, glaring at the man again.
"Where did she take the children?"
Steve continued to say nothing and got another punch--this time to the head--by a guy he'd mentally named Asshole #2 as Hassan stalked to the back of the room to where Asshole #1 was sitting behind a beat-up laptop. "American Navy SEAL," he said, glancing up from the screen.
Steve stared back through the eye that could still focus.
"You're him, aren't you?" Hassan said. "You're the policeman who took down Brother Nazaria's soldiers in Hawaii."
Steve thought back to the confused, stupid, angry 20-something white kids who'd bought into the Taliban's lies and pursed his lips. "I'm gonna do the same thing to you," he said.
"Welcome," Hassan said sarcastically, then gestured back to Asshole #2.
Steve closed his eyes and prepared for the pain.
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"Hey," he said, gently putting a hand on a spot without bruises or bandages on Steve's arm.
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Dumb question, yes.
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Which wasn't too surprising, honestly.
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Ow. Stupid headache. Concussion. Whatever.
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Then stiffened a little in his seat as the two unobtrusive if burly men in uniform who had been guarding the infirmary they were in, came over with two older men. One clearly brass and the other clearly a spook.
He tapped Steve's shoulder to get his attention as they closed in on Steve's bed.
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Spook turned to Danny. "CIA," he said. "Hear me? You need to step outside."
Steve very carefully did not smirk as he braced for Danny's reaction.
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Then took a breath and looked back at Steve for a moment before returning his gaze to the man. "No, no. I think I'm gonna stay right here with him."
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"Excuse me?" he barked and Steve winced slightly because ow, that was loud.
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"I'm not a soldier, you don't have any authority over me," Danny said patiently. Like he was explaining it to a toddler. "So I'm gonna just stay put."
They could turn this into A Thing. But then again, he'd gotten this far as just a civilian, so would they really test what sway he did or did not have?
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"Okay, I'm going to make this real simple for you, Commander," he said. "We know you weren't alone over here, so unless you want to spent the next ten years in prison, you need to tell me who else was involved and how you got your intel."
Well. That would be not ideal. Steve coughed lightly and winced as it pulled at the bandages across his ribs.
"You know Hassan's boys," he said, voice raspy, "they knocked me around pretty good. My short term memory's a little foggy. I'm sorry."
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He didn't care what politician McGarrett had backing his little team.
"I want a name and the source of your intel. Now.
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He'd spent the better part of several days being tortured by the Taliban and escaped an execution by moments to keep this information to himself. This guy and his threats could kiss his entire bruised ass.
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The man sighed, not so much stepping back as withdrawing the level of physical presence. "All right, listen up," he snapped. "Today, you get a pass."
The spook next to him's expression went narrow and angry before it was smoothed away to be brought up again in private. Awww, someone thought they could managed to get the information out of Steve.
"But these rogue ops of yours are over. Speaking on behalf of the entire U.S. military, you ever set foot in this part of the world again, you are gonna be in it up to your neck. I don't care what you did in the service. I will personally throw you in the brig. We clear?"
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Not getting captured again would probably help.
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Because if there was one thing he knew, it was that this wasn't over in the slightest.
Only then did he and the spook walk away, giving in far too easily for this to have been anything other than a set up, right?
Danny pursed his lips and nodded at the masters-at-whatever-they-were as they took up a much more obvious position, guarding the room. "Nice to meet you both," he called over.
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Even drugged up an injured, Steve was a struggle to handle.
"We don't need that. All right? Catherine's a big girl, she can take care of herself. Put your head down. Relax. Okay? Okay? Please?"
Great, now he was begging.
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He finally turned his head and gave Danny a tiny smile, lingering on his face with his one eye that wasn't swollen closed.
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Because he didn't want Steve to get some stupid guilt over it or anything.
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"How?" Steve asked.
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That was meant to let Danny spend the holidays with his kid. You know. That one.
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Had Danny checked the chart hung on the end of the bed for the list of injuries while he'd waited for Steve to wake up? Yes, of course he had. But he'd at least felt weird about it, unlike how Steve would have been with him.
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Steve finally caught his breath and surreptitiously wiped at the tears that much coughing had given him.
"Thank you," he said softly.
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"When are they kicking us out of here?"
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Of course Steve knew that. He'd been doing these opps for years now.
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Steve generally helped them along by finding them as they shadowed him and staring them down for being bad at their jobs.
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Even if Danny wasn't exactly happy that she'd just left him there. The goddamn focus on the mission was something he didn't think he could ever fully understand.
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"Roger that," he said instead, closing his eyes for a quick break that was going to turn into a drug-induced nap if he wasn't careful.
"Nice jacket," he added.
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The doctor--as doctors do--bustled in seven minutes later and did enough poking and prodding to wake him back up again.
"You're on the next transport back to Hickam," she said, "and we, frankly, would like to never see you again, Commander."
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Also like a worried spouse, but whatever.
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She'd dealt with a lot of Special Forces testosterone.
Steve looked mulish about that.
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"You end up with a messed up arm because you're an idiot and I'm never letting you live it down."
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That was no.