Disclaimer: Do not own Hawaii Five-0. No copyright infringement intended.

Authors Note: Another warm thanks to the ever tolerant, patience of a saint(s), beta's. You're the best!

Pohihihi – Not clearly understood.

As ever … Enjoy!

Chapter 4

"Just tell me why? One good reason that will prevent me from shoving this down your throat, and keep our medical examiner from picking up the pieces of your skull afterwards." Steve's rage highlighted every word, but the guy never flinched, so he pressed the muzzle of his SIG into the back of the dad's head, hard. He had to use his left hand, because he was certain his right one was busted.

"Steve …"

He brushed off Chin's warning. Saw red again, more than figuratively, when the guy underneath him half grinned, blood pooling in the corner of his mouth, coating his teeth, but offered Steve nothing. He let more weight shift over to the knee pressed into the guy's back, until the man grunted.

"Go ahead. Try to explain to me why your son being evicted from a game gave you the right to 'put the haole referee in his place'. And then why it seemed reasonable to kill the next ref for the same action."

"Steve …"

Steve bent over, his sneer just inches from the side of the man's bloodied face, all his upper body weight supported by his SIG still digging into the guy's skull.

"I hope your wife and son enjoy visiting you in Halawa the rest of your natural life. That is, if they'll still speak to you. Maybe, if you're lucky, your son will grow up to be a better man than you. Wouldn't take much, would it?"

Steve pushed off the guy, digging his knee and the SIG in harder.

"Get him out of here, Chin."

He watched the guy stagger down the hallway, his teammate manhandling him out the front door before Steve allowed himself to lean against the wall. He just wanted to take a shower, get the man's filth off him. But he couldn't yet. So he closed his eyes, pulling his damaged hand and wrist against his chest, still trying to make sense of everything that'd happened. Make sense of it … right.

It'd taken Five-0 another three months after Danny's melt down at KIHA to pin his beating on this guy. After his partner's attack, the rink had installed security cameras to their back, more deserted sections of the parking lot, and not advertised that they'd tightened things up. So when the idiot had actually killed the next ref who'd evicted his son from a game for illegal contact—a fatal beating this time—Five-0 finally had him dead to rights.

The guy had put up one hell of a fight, though. Used his wife and son, first as a shield, and then as hostages. Threatened both of them into submission. Law enforcement could actually hear the guy raging within the house. No one knew if their suspect had a weapon, so Five-0 hadn't waited. They'd stormed the place, Chin and Kono concentrating on getting out the wife and the son, leaving the raging lunatic for Steve to handle. And the guy was built like a two-story brick house, so right about now, Steve would actually admit that he hurt just about everywhere from the takedown.

"Hey, boss? You okay?"

Steve cracked his eyelids open, adjusting the hold of his throbbing wrist before answering.

"No. I don't think so, Kono. Not this time."

She nodded. Steve could tell she understood that he wasn't talking about his physical injuries.

"Yeah, what a waste. I mean, who does that? It's a game … a sport. It wasn't like his kid was gonna make pro or anything. Heck, even if he was. To kill someone for evicting your kid from a game? I don't get it, boss. And I was pro."

Steve pushed off the wall, slowly heading out the same way as Chin had, shaking his head. Danny's beating, the death of the young ref … he literally had no answer for her, so he kept moving, trying to stay ahead of the overwhelming futility of it all.

"You gonna call Danny?"

Steve stopped just past the threshold of the house, taking in the subdued, but still purposeful movements of emergency services all around them. Even as he stood there, uncertainty began to cover him like a shroud, because … Danny. What the hell was he supposed to say to Danny?

"Boss?"

Steve cleared his throat, glancing over at his teammate. She frowned at him, all kinds of worry oozing from the lone expression.

"No, I'm not gonna call him yet. I'll go get this looked at," Steve gestured to his arm, "get cleaned up, and then head over there. He doesn't have Grace tonight. I want to tell him in person."

"What are you gonna tell him?"

Steve hesitated, looking back over the scene, picking out the HPD officers that were speaking with the wife and the kid by the ambulances.

"I don't know, Kono." He shrugged his shoulders, because in all honesty, he just hoped something would come to him by the time that he got there.

"You tell him the truth, brah. Just the truth. Danny can handle it." Chin had joined them after dumping the guy in Duke's lap. Seemed as if no one could stand to be around their suspect for more than a few minutes at a time. Like his sickness would leach out all over them or something.

A disgusted sound, that had nothing to do with laughter, escaped out of Steve.

"Yeah, sure. I'll just tell Danny that some ass wipe used him for a punching bag because of a game. I'm sure he'll understand. He's a hard core competitor. He'll get it." Sarcasm dripped from Steve's voice, his cheeks beginning to flush in anger, but Chin didn't flinch from the cutting remark. Which actually pissed Steve off more. Because he understood anger. It was familiar, almost comforting. "I mean, it's not like telling him that he almost died because the guy was just some thug from our job. Something he'd expect. It's not like we don't have enough threats coming our way for what we do." Steve's irrational mind, and some of the exasperation left over from the takedown, wanted to tear through the calm coming from the man standing before him. Even if he was his friend. "No. Instead Danny has to worry about a bunch of parents who think their little prodigies have a shot at going pro. The big times: huge salaries, huge endorsements, celebrity status ..." Steve had one handed air quoted the last bit and was just about to gain more steam when ...

"For God's sake! Who've you killed now?" Danny's voice ripped across Steve's angry one, even matched his intensity syllable for syllable, though there was no vehemence behind it. Not really. Not if you knew how to read Danny. And his 'ohana were experts at it. Especially Steve.

The SEAL's focus on Chin had prevented him from noticing his approaching partner, but the friend, who he'd just been tearing into, must have seen him. Because Chin had smirked before the distinctive voice that bellowed 'New Jersey's arrived' had cut in, and he'd let Steve blow off his anger and frustration anyway. The Hawaiian must've known that Steve had needed the outlet and that Danny would be able to help his partner pull it all back in again. Tilt the world back onto its proper axis.

"I leave you alone for one take down …"

His partner and Chin had exchanged a fist bump once Danny had gotten close enough, but their detective had never taken his gaze off Steve, studying him still.

He could feel the tumble of his raw emotions settle. Let his partner's voice wash over him, even though the man wasn't supposed to be there. Sometimes, like now, Steve was grateful that his partner could be as pig headed as he was, though he'd never tell him that.

"Why are you here, Daniel? I specifically recall banning you from being anywhere near this place."

"If you wanted me to stay away, you should have called me afterwards. I had to call Duke to find out it was all over. I swear none of you answer your phones anymore."

"I'm gonna have to have a conversation with Duke about sharing information with detectives that are supposed to be on light duty."

Danny chuffed.

"Yeah, good luck with that." His partner looked him up and down, his critical eye probably registering every injury he'd taken, even the ones not blatantly obvious. "So, ready to hop into your limo, Steven? Get a ride to the hospital in style so they can check you over, fix up whatever damage you've managed to do to that hand of yours?"

Steve glowered at the blond, though he wasn't even sure why he bothered sometimes. The man was practically immune after five years.

"I'm not going to Queens in an ambulance, Danny."

"Of course you're not. Come on, Rambo. I'm driving." After getting the Silverado's keys from Steve, Danny threw the Camaro's at Kono. "I want it back in one piece, woman."

"No promises, brah." Kono's eyes actually twinkled with mischief.

"Chin, don't let your cousin joy ride in my car," Danny threw back at the two before latching onto his partner's sleeve and tugging at it. "Come on, princess, your chariot awaits."

"We'll see you guys later. We'll hook up with Duke and make sure this gets closed down properly." Chin patted Steve on the shoulder, and nodded at Danny, before both he and Kono took off in the other direction.

By the time Steve crawled his way into the passenger seat of the Silverado, buckled up, and was resting his head back when Danny took off towards Queens, his partner had returned to throwing daggers at him in-between glimpses of the road.

"You gonna tell me what that was all about? Why you lit into Chin back there?"

"Rather not, Danny."

"Not one of your most shining moments, babe."

"No. Definitely not."

Steve stewed for a minute, trying to figure out how to even start the conversation, when it finally dawned on him. Danny had heard him. At least bits and pieces of his meltdown, anyway.

"You already know, don't you?"

"Yep, you forget. I'm a damn good detective. And you're pretty loud when you're angry. So, between my detective skills and you blowing off steam, I put the pieces together pretty quickly."

"How long?" Steve didn't buy it that Danny didn't know before he heard him take Chin's head off.

Danny chuffed.

"As soon as we found out the guy's name, I figured I could guess motive."

"But you didn't say anything."

"Wasn't important."

"Danny …"

"It's a sport, Steven. A sport I love. That I want to share with Grace, just like baseball. Just like you want to share your love of all things aquatic and dangerous with her. Same thing. And just because there's a bunch of psychotic parents out there that need to stop living their lives vicariously through their kids, I'm not gonna let that stop me, or stop you for that matter, from spending that time with my daughter."

Steve looked over at his partner, his head still resting back, thinking.

"Why not tell me?"

Danny quirked an eyebrow, the corner of his lips turning up a bit before he answered, still watching the road.

"Why not tell me, says Mr. Olympian." Danny chuckled, then got serious again, sort of. "I was gonna to tell you, Steve. I just wanted to see how crappy I was so I could prepare myself for the shit pile of ribbing that I'd get for doing something so hometown." Danny glanced over at him, an honest to God grin breaking out then. "Turns out I haven't lost much. So I'll take you on, you exasperating beast. You can come to a game—not that I could stop you—once I'm back on my skates."

A grin began to gather around the edges of Steve's mouth, then a warmth that was familiar within his guts. But he still needed more from his partner.

"Why'd you stop playing before, Danny? Ice hockey. Why'd you stop?"

Steve could see his partner roll his eyes at him, his gaze fixed straight ahead, fingers tapping the steering wheel.

"There's no mystery or life threatening reason, Steven. Not every decision I've made is because of blackmail or the danger of someone breaking my bones. I gave it up for Grace." Danny glanced over at him, a knowing look passing between them. The father's world would always revolve around Grace. "When she was born, there just wasn't enough time in the day for work, Rachel, and my daughter. So I gave it up, hoping to get back into it when she got older. Something that I could share with her, just like baseball."

"So you gonna keep letting her play? Even after this?"

"Yep. Even after this." Danny glanced over at him again, seeming to gauge how his next statement would be received. "Worst game of Jenga ever."

Steve knitted his eyebrows together and sat up a bit straighter. He'd missed something. Something important.

"What?"

Danny kept his eyes glued to the road, refusing to look at him.

"You gotta change man, you can't live like that. Start small ..."

Steve kept staring, a slow smile creeping into a full one. He sat back, his head against the headrest, his eyes closed.

"So you do listen to me sometimes."

A long, comfortable silence fell between them.

"Sure. Whatever you say, Steven. You just keep telling yourself that."

H50

"Come on! Come on, Danny!" Kono was standing, both hands belled around the edges of her mouth like a bullhorn. She'd been up and down off the bleacher seats for the last seven minutes.

"Yeah, get it. Get it, Danny," Chin mumbled to no one in particular. He was leaning forward, his hand on his cousin's hip to move her back, force her to sit as Danny skated down the rink towards the goal. He visibly flinched though, when their mainlander went down, hard, crashing into the boards and lost the puck to a defender.

"Oi …! How'd you miss that tripping call, ref? He only tried to smash his head into the boards again!" Kono was up once more. "Get another job, you moron, 'cause you suck at this one!" She was standing on the seat row in front of them, towering over everyone, face red, obviously ready to jump down the remaining seats and into the rink if Danny didn't get up soon.

Steve didn't try to stop her. He was also standing, rubbing the fingers of his casted right wrist, his gaze locked onto his partner. He watched, relief settling over him when Danny nodded to the two players of his team that had helped him up after the whistle had finally sounded. That he'd been tripped from behind and never saw it coming had made Steve tense up, but his friend seemed to shake it off fine.

"About time, ref!" Kono was still yelling, even though the foul allowed Danny a penalty shot.

Steve turned to Chin after Danny had scored, his partner's team up by four. His features had darkened, his fingers clenching and unclenching.

"That the same guy?"

"Yep, same team. Same guy. They've developed a bit of a reputation now. Him more so than the others." Chin nodded his head towards the rink, following #66, the last name Matsuoka clearly emblazoned above the number. And then the Hawaiian was standing, yelling his own frustration at the refs as the buzzer sounded, ending the game.

"What the hell, ref?"

Danny had taken a slash from Matsuoka to the face. He was down again. Steve could just begin to see the blood blossoming underneath his partner's gloved hands before Danny was up and skating after the other player, his face covered in red as he tore his gloves off. Steve watched as their right winger crashed into the guy from behind, taking them both down to the tiles in an unglorified heap.

"That's it," Steve growled. "I've seen enough." No one heard him. All three team members were moving. It seemed as if the bleachers had emptied onto the rink. By the time Steve hit the floor, Matsuoka had Danny pinned underneath him and was trying to pummel his face. The guy outweighed his partner by at least eighty pounds but Danny was protecting himself pretty well with his arms. Steve's vision crimsoned once he got his hands on the guy. And then time just kind of winked out on him.

"Steve …! Steve, knock it off! Get off him!"

That was Danny's voice, Danny's bloodied hands on his shoulders, latched onto his t-shirt and trying to pull him backwards. Steve's right arm was cocked, his fingers fisted, his left hand clenching the green and black jersey that he'd lifted to pull the downed man's shoulders slightly off the rinks surface.

"Steve, come on. He's had enough." Danny tugged again, ripping one shoulder of his shirt at the seams. "Come on, Steve. I'm fine. Let him go."

Steve leaned forward, dropping the guy back to the ground but not letting loose of the jersey. The force of his growl blew across the man's blood and sweat covered face.

"Touch him again and you'll be playing your next game of hockey on a sled—for Special Olympics." It wasn't until Steve felt a forearm around his neck and saw the bloodied fist latch back onto his shirt that he let go of the guy, falling backwards into the persistent tug. He landed, he assumed, in Danny's lap. At least he hoped it was just Danny's.

"You idiot. Let me see."

Yep, Danny's legs were tucked on either side of him, his bulky arms around his chest still pulling him backwards. Steve didn't resist, leaning back into his partner as the pain in his right hand began to register.

"Jesus, Steven. You're gonna need to get this re-casted. Probably re-set, too."

The anchor of the cast, the piece that ran across Steve's palm and between his thumb and forefinger was broken, almost pulverized, and covered in blood. So was the rest of his cast and bits of his t-shirt. Steve's knuckles were split open and swelling already, too. At this point Steve couldn't tell if it was his or Matsuoka's blood all over him.

"Okay, that's just disgusting." Danny plucked the offensive cotton away from Steve's chest. "What were you thinking?"

He shrugged, his gaze still hammering into the guy barely able to crawl away from them.

"No one messes with 'ohana, Danny."

By the time the rink had been cleared and the officials mollified, Steve and his partner were being shuttled off to Queens by their teammates. They had another ten, maybe fifteen minutes to go before they got there. Chin was driving Steve's truck, Kono riding shotgun. Steve and Danny had been piled into the back, and for whatever reason, he was now lounging with his back pressed into his partner's chest, Danny crammed into the corner of the rig, supporting him.

Danny likely needed stitches to his nose and a quick check to make sure it hadn't been re-broken, though their right winger swore that he'd know if it had been. His partner would be sporting two black eyes by tomorrow morning, which made Steve growl and want to return to the rink anytime he thought about it. Tear the rink apart, just to blow off the anger that he felt at the sight of his, once again, injured partner.

Steve definitely needed his hand re x-rayed and re-casted. It was broken again for sure, his fingers taking on the semblance of plump, fatty sausages. Kono had laughed at him when he'd made the analogy. By this point, even ice wasn't keeping the swelling at bay, but it was keeping the throbbing to a minimum. So he was at least grateful for that.

Both cousins had managed to stay clear, for the most part, of the free for all, though Steve had caught a glimpse of Kono taking out the away team's other forward at the knees. The guy had been looking to help his teammate and was aiming for both Danny and Steve when she'd taken care of him.

"Ah … glad you're on our team, Kalakaua. Nice take down back there." Steve knew he would get grief from Chin for encouraging her. And an enthusiastic retort would have her cousin frowning at him also. Steve was glad he couldn't see it.

"Nah, brah. I was just getting warmed up." Her grin morphed into one of concern though, when Danny groaned from under the bag of ice across his nose and covering most of his face. "You okay, Danny?"

"Haven't we done this before?" Danny looked up briefly to smirk back at her, resting his head back again between the seat and the door frame, the dripping ice bag back in place. Steve was certain the guy was going to freeze his face off if he kept it on there any longer.

"Seems like it," Chin answered before anyone else could. Steve caught Chin's glance in the rear view mirror. "Think maybe you could pick a different sport, Danny. Maybe something … I don't know, a little less hazardous to your health … and maybe ours?

Kono snorted.

"Yeah, brah. Any other hazardous sports or activities that we need to know about, that you've failed to share with the team? It's not like you don't have enough excitement trailing behind first Boss all day …"

"Trailing behind? Trailing behind, Kalakaua? Who says I trail behind …?"

Steve caught Chin's gaze again. His teammate raised an eyebrow at his smirk, but then nodded. Steve closed his eyes and became lost in the safety of his 'ohana. He let his body melt into the hard, compact torso of his partner, patted the man's leg as the sounds of his friends washed over him. He must have drifted off, because he hadn't realized that the rig had gone quiet until his partner's whisper drifted past his ear.

"You okay, partner?"

"Never better, Danny. Never better."

~the end~