Small Comfort

Chapter Twelve

OK, here's the final chapter of Cujo's journey through the world of crime fighting. I hope you enjoyed it. There may be sequels if there are enough requests. I have plenty of material as Cujo is based on a real cat that struck fear in the hearts of landlords and veterinarians for many painful if entertaining years. Thank you all so much for your kind reviews and alerts and favorites. Thank you also to Amanda who gave name to 'The Cone of Shame'.

Disclaimer: Don't own, just borrowed. I broke one of them but he's repaired now and I've given him back. Not making any money, just in it for the hell of it.

Mistakes: All mine, can't blame anyone else.

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The following two weeks had settled into a routine for Detective Daniel Williams.

Take Steve for a check-up, take Cujo for a check-up. Get everyone their meds. Hope that SEAL and cat will stay out of trouble for at least a little while.

Steve was beside himself with the desire to get back in the action. He'd been restricted to desk duty until the frenetic Dr. Hazeltine signed-off. It was driving him insane. In fact, if you wanted to purposefully drive Steven J. McGarrett over the edge, just him he had to sit still.

Danny, of course, took amusement in reminding his bad-ass, ninja-freak partner, daily: no running, no jumping, no calisthenics, no chasing and tackling bad-guys . . . just sit and behave . . . STAY!. Chin and Kono always made themselves scarce for a little while after the detective felt the need to remind their boss about the doctor's instructions. It was safer that way.

Cujo had been forced to wear 'the cone of shame', that plastic funnel looking collar that fit over an animal's head to prevent it from interfering with its bandages and/or stitches.

Danny, of course, thought it hilarious that the little buzz-saw, piranha, spawn of Satan, shithead had to walk around with the lampshade on his head. They could actually hear the little cat grumbling. Every time he failed to negotiate something because of the awkwardness of it all, he'd let out a small rumbling growl as though swearing to himself.

Actually, one short, loud, hand-waving detective was very lucky that Cujo had the device around his neck. It also prevented the cat from latching onto said detective with his needle-sharp little teeth when the man, inevitably, guffawed at the cat's blundering into office furniture every time he failed to successfully negotiate a move.

Steve was still enduring the immobilization of his left arm. He'd already torn stitches twice by doing something he shouldn't have. Danny even suggested that perhaps his overly active partner should also wear a plastic collar. Of course, he said this as he ducked out the door before one very annoyed SEAL could kick his ass, (even one-handed).

Cat, SEAL thought Danny; two animals with a strange correlation. He pondered this as he was on his way to pick up his partner to take him to the, now dreaded, workplace where the still recovering commander was allowed only to use the phone and computer. He'd also not yet been cleared to drive and wouldn't be until he no longer had the need of vertigo meds. McGarrett was one miserable S.O.B.

The little detective began to mentally list the similarities between two: Cat - fierce, SEAL - check; Cat - Fearless, SEAL - check; Cat - nearly silent unless pissed, SEAL - check; Cat - deceptively attractive but dangerous, SEAL - not anything that Danny would ever admit in this lifetime to his arrogant partner.

"You know, Rambo, you've only got a couple more days until you can go back to being a one-man demolition crew. I know you're suffering from L.E.A." said the smirking blonde man driving the silver Camaro while a dark haired man slumped dejectedly in the passenger seat.

"What? What the hell is L.E.A.?" said McGarrett testily to the driver, not really sure if he'd heard him correctly.

"Lack of Explosions Anxiety." said his partner with a smug look on his stubbled face.

McGarrett only let out an annoyed huff as his expression morphed into the familiar one that Danny had named Aneurism Face eons ago.

"You know, you haven't lobbed any grenades or blown anything up in over a month. Must be very stress producing for a Ramboized, ninja."

"Do you make these terms up yourself? Of course you do because they never make any sense. They're ot even in the dictionary! Not even in the colloquial dictionary!" huffed the man in the passenger seat. Danny knew that his partner hadn't been in a good mood for several weeks . . . not that anyone was counting or anything.

"Colloquial? Good word Steven. You've been studying."

"Bite me."

"How are the stitches? Still holding?" asked Danny with a not very well concealed smirk.

"You know they're fine Danny. Are you asking just to annoy me? You're doing a very good job of it bye-the-way."

"Hey, it's not my fault you decided that chasing and grabbing the spawn of Satan with your bad arm tore your stitches, you idiot."

"Danny", explained his partner for what he thought must have been at least the fiftieth time, "He was going out the door with that stupid cone on his head. He can't see where he's going. He would have been a sitting duck."

"For what!" said Williams, waving the arm he wasn't using for driving duty. "It's not like there's wolves or eagles out there! We're in the middle of friggin' Honolulu you paranoid idiot!"

"Eagles?"

"Yeah, they carry away small animals all the time."

"Animal Planet, right?"

Danny ignored his partner's question and continued, "You really shouldn't worry though, I'm sure the little buzz-saw could whip a whole herd of wolves . . . "

"Pack" Steve corrected automatically.

"Yeah, whatever, and an entire squadron of eagles."

"Squadron?" repeated McGarrett. Not sure what to call a large group of eagles.

"Besides, with you, Kono and Chin giving him cat treats every five minutes, he's getting so fucking fat that they'd never be able to lift his ass off the ground! . . . So, no worries brah."

Instead of defending his supposedly pudgy pet, McGarrett smiled and said, "Yeah, you might be right on that one. He's gotten pretty big."

"He gets any bigger and he's going to give Kamekona a run, err, make that a waddle for his money."

"Now, you're just being unkind." huffed his partner, though not without a small smile threatening to turn up the corners of his mouth.

"Unkind? To the little shithead or to our shave-ice mogul? In any case, you'd better cut back on Cujo's kibble or get him some diet Friskies or something."

"Vet said he's not overweight." defended the SEAL

"Not for a baby elephant maybe." snorted Williams and smiled at the 'cat lady' as he'd taken to calling his annoyed partner.

At least the little shithead was a distraction of a sort for his restless owner. He seemed to be the only thing that could get his cranky partner to even crack a smile; well, besides Gracie. Steve was always glad to see her.

For awhile, they'd toyed with the idea of sending Cujo to live with Grace. Much as Danny delighted in the possibility that Stan would become the wolverine's next chew toy, he didn't want to let an animal he considered just this side of a mountain lion that near his daughter.

The cat hadn't exhibited any hostility toward anyone but Danny for quite some time. After Cujo's injury, he was too lethargic to take a chunk out of the vet but Steve was pretty sure that would change by the next visit.

As a matter of fact, that's where they were headed now - to pick up Cujo after they'd dropped him off at the vet clinic on the way to Steve's doctor's appointment.

Now I'm the friggin' animal taxi! thought Danny sourly as they pulled into the lot at the clinic. And I don't mean for just the damned cat! he added to himself though he really didn't begrudge any assistance his partner may need. Even if it involved being personal chauffer to a furry piranha.

They walked into the cool air of the lobby and were immediately welcomed by Purrsy, the handsome tuxedo cat that was the office's official greeter. He knew when to stay out of the way. He had an uncanny sense of who or what was safe to approach. Steve stooped down and scratched him behind his ears as he purred loudly and looked up at Danny as though telling him it was his turn next.

This was the regular vet, a very nice, attractive woman with a pretty decent shape from what Danny could discern under the white jacket with the picture of Tweety and Sylvester embroidered over the pocket. Her name was there also in blue thread: Patricia Charteris, DVM.

A large sign on the front of the reception desk which sat directly opposite the entry read 'Cats' under which was a left pointing arrow and 'Dogs' with an arrow pointing toward the right. Apparently the 'Dog' side also included whatever other miscellaneous creatures could be hauled in on a leash or stuffed in a box. Danny could see a rather large iguana sitting on its owners lap on the right side of the lobby. It was wearing a neon pink harness with a matching leash that was wound around its owner's tattooed wrist. She was kinda cute thought the little detective. The nose wring was a little off-putting but one could work around it.

They waited their turn behind a woman with a loudly meowing cat in a carrier and behind her, a guy with a very nervous Irish setter.

Every time the cat meowed, the setter whined and tried to get as far away as possible from the plastic crate containing the agitated feline.

As the paperwork was being filled out by its owner, the cat gave one last, loud, forlorn meow. The dog promptly created a very large puddle on the linoleum flooring, his embarrassed owner blushing and looking apologetically at the others in the short line.

"He doesn't like cats much." the young man said apologetically as everyone backed away from the growing puddle.

"Who does?" said Danny as the woman with the cat turned from the desk and glowered at him before going to the 'cat' side of the waiting room.

The setter and his owner checked in and dispersed to the dog designated area. The big red dog slinked away with its tail tucked and head down. "Know how you feel, buddy." said Danny to the dog as it was led away, looking like it was going to its own execution.

"Oh, hi Steve, hi Danny!" smiled the receptionist, a local girl with glossy black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. Her dark lashes fluttered at the SEAL who grinned back with a smile guaranteed to melt the heart of the most frosty of women.

Danny only rolled his eyes. Even pale, bandaged and under fighting weight, McGarrett still had them eating out of his hand. Danny would never figure out the opposite sex, though he supposed that, at this point, it might have something more to do with the 'mothering' instinct than lust. At least, that was his opinion.

"Wait here while I get Cujo for you." she smiled and went quickly through the door to the back where the 'patients' were kept in comfortable cages. Steve didn't care how comfortable the cage was, it was still a cage. He was sure Cujo would be relieved to get out of there.

Less than a couple of minutes later, she came out with Cujo resting quietly in her arms. His 'cone of shame' was gone and the drain had been removed. Only a shaved patch with a neat row of half-healed stitches remained to give evidence of the injury.

Behind her, Doctor Charteris had come out to the lobby as well and stopped behind the desk.

"Commander" she said "I think we need to draw blood one more time before Cujo leaves. His white cell count was still a little high when we checked it yesterday. You can take him home after the blood draw. If it looks like he needs another round of antibiotics, I'll call you."

"May I?" she asked smiling at the dark haired man as she took the cat from the arms of her receptionist and placed him against her neck to cuddle him. Danny gasped and even Steve winced at her lack of caution.

"Be careful." warned the SEAL, "He's not the friendliest cat."

"Oh, we get along fine." smiled the vet. "Let me just take him into the back for a moment to get that blood. We'll be right back."

She smiled brightly at them and with Cujo still tucked against her, she went through the door into the back office. Danny thought he caught a glimpse of evil yellow eyes with hugely dilated black pupils as the two disappeared behind the door.

Steve and Danny looked at each other doubtfully but didn't say anything as they turned and walked to the waiting area and sat down. The woman with the cat was still waiting and as she looked disapprovingly at Danny, he smiled at her disarmingly. She looked away and began to coo to the cat in the carrier set on her lap.

She probably has pictures of the friggin' cat in her wallet, thought Danny. Probably uses it as a screen saver too.

They sat in the crowded waiting area for several more minutes; surrounded by every imaginable color and type of cat: orange, tri-color, black, white, long haired, short haired, completely hairless, (which gave Danny the willies), but Steve didn't even seem to notice he was surrounded by an army of felines. He kept his worried eyes on the doorway that had swallowed Doctor Charteris and Cujo.

It started with a loud, familiar yowl. Then another yowl with a chilling screech added for good measure.

Suddenly, all hell broke loose. They could hear the sound of a struggle on the other side of the wall. Someone bounced off of it with a loud thud and they could make out a small scream and then a cry of pain. There was another minute or two of the sound of yelling, screaming, thumping and banging, then silence.

Steve and Danny just looked at each other. Danny smirking and trying not to laugh and Steve pale with dread.

The door that lead to the lobby banged opened and the vet came out holding Cujo by the scruff at arm's length. Her teeth were gritted and she had a steely look in her eye. The cat's hair was spiked and tufted with wet spots over much of his body. He sort of looked like the feline version of a punk rocker. The strong smell of alcohol accompanied them to the lobby.

"I don't think we're getting any blood from this animal today." said the vet through clamped teeth as she practically shoved the still snarling Cujo at Steve.

"Danny, get my wallet from my pocket and give them my credit card." said McGarrett, his face set in stone as he carefully held the little cat by the scruff supporting the squirming bundle's hindquarters with the other hand.

"Please tell me it's in your back pocket." said Danny as he looked at the rear of his partner's cargo pants.

"Right side." muttered McGarrett before the blonde man sighed in annoyance and reached gingerly into his partner's hip pocket to feel around for the billfold.

McGarrett only glared at him, flinching as the cat squirmed and growled and Danny roughly yanked the wallet out of his pants.

Two vet techs then came scurrying from the back office to stand beside the vet. Each held their arms bent in front of them in the pose of a surgeon who'd just scrubbed up and was getting ready to don his gloves. Both sets had long copiously bleeding scratches, some of the blood actually dripping off their elbows to splat onto the linoleum along with the dog urine.

"Uhh, my cat didn't do that, did he?" swallowed McGarrett, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, he did." Bit out one of the techs in a strained voice, the small round one with dark hair. The other, a taller, thinner redhead only shook her head in grim affirmation and glared at the squirming cat that McGarrett was struggling to hold onto.

"Danny, I don't want to let go of this cat. Just forge my name on the receipt. You probably write it better than I do by now anyway." said McGarrett

His partner only nodded, scribbled the signature and handed the office copy back to the receptionist who was looking at Cujo cautiously. Danny knew very well how to forge McGarrett's signature. He'd done it many times when his ADD partner had wandered off to blow things up or chase suspects before completing paperwork with short deadlines that required the head of Five-0's signature. He was sure that, by now, no one could tell the real signature from the forgery.

The two vet techs were noisily conferring with their boss on the best urgent care location; all eyes in both waiting areas on them. "Don't worry Commander, it's part of the job." sighed the still cute but stressed Doctor Charteris as she signed the appropriate forms for her employee's medical care. The two women grabbed the forms and hurried out the glass door to the parking lot.

"Sorry." was all the SEAL could mutter as they walked past him. He and Danny shortly followed out the door with their growling and wriggling charge.

"That went well." smirked Danny

"Bite me" scowled McGarrett.

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Eventually, everyone got back to work and things settled into the routine of investigations that usually resulted in gunfire and arrests or body bags and double the paperwork.

Having an office/attack cat was easier than everyone had envisioned. Cujo provided quiet affection and loud purring after days that needed a gentle end. Having the sleek little cat around was proving to be a very therapeutic thing.

He'd take naps on Kono's desk. Chin routinely moved the cat's tail aside to reach his paperwork after Cujo had decided whatever it was that was under him was a comfortable place to plop himself. He acted as a furry paperweight in Steve's out-box and had proven to be a very efficient instrument of pest control in the palace.

The Five-0 team even got used to finding 'gifts' of dead mice, bugs and the occasional unfortunate lizard that the very efficient Cujo had dispatched and presented to his friends. These presents were usually found on desk tops, chairs, and in the middle of the computer table on occasion. Everyone had learned not to don any shoes that had been left under desks without first turning them upside down and shaking them out.

They still told the tale of the morning that Chin had felt a lump in the toe of his shoe but didn't have time to check it as he'd run out the door. Much later in the day, the annoying lump was discovered to be a very dead mouse. He didn't bother to thank the cat for the gift.

The old building housing Five-0's offices had no dearth of prey for the sleek predator that stalked its hallways during the work week. On weekends, he went home to the house on the beach that had the world's biggest litter box as its back yard. Cujo was content.

Today Danny had brought Gracie in with him. It was summer and she had no school. Steve had given Danny the afternoon off and the little detective and his daughter had come in to spend a couple of hours so Gracie's dad could finish up a report on a murder that had been recently solved.

The precocious child had spent a few minutes charming her 'Uncle Steve' before joining Kono in her office. They drew pictures for awhile. Most of them showing surfer girls or men with blonde hair and neckties standing next to a dark haired man wearing a t-shirt and boots or another dark-haired man wearing a flowered shirt.

Eventually, Kono had to get back to work and Grace contented herself with the pink, Hello-Kitty laptop her mom had given her last Christmas. She spent time looking up YouTube moments of cats playing the piano, cats jumping out of boxes, cats chasing dogs and whatever other of the thousands of amusing feline videos that had been posted online.

"Auntie Kono!" suddenly squealed the eight year old in delight, "Look, it's Uncle Steve and Cujo!"

Kono's stomach lurched as she looked at the image on the screen of her boss lying on his back with a sleeping kitten on his chest as the videographer panned the wreckage that surrounded the softly snoring man and the sprawled kitten. Chin, hearing the child's joyful squeal, looked up with an expression of dread on his face and put his head down on his arms, thinking of covering his ears as well.

Before Kono could stop the giggling little girl, she'd grabbed her laptop and dashed toward her Uncle Steve's office.

Kono sat frozen at her desk, looking toward her cousin's office for help only to see him with his head down and his hands over his ears.

"Look Uncle Steve! It's you and Cujo! You're on YouTube!" They could hear McGarrett's muffled voice through the glass walls of their offices and then the door opened and their boss handed a purring Cujo to the child and calmly asked her to go feed the little cat in the break-room.

She disappeared down the hallway with the complacent cat dangling in her arms.

"Danno!" came a bellow that could be heard on the next island. "You are a dead man!"

Uhh oh, thought the startled little detective as he contemplated making a run for it. Gracie would be safe but, somehow, his own safety was of concern.

It was too late. He realized he was doomed as he looked at the murderous glare coming from his partner as the tall man stood with arms crossed and blocking Danny's doorway.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he could see a small grey cat with a smug look of triumph in its evil yellow eyes.

...

The end