Notes: For pat_t, who wanted a HL/H50 crossover. Blame for waking up my HL muses goes to Killa and Rhi, who talked about a certain immortal while I had H50 on the brain. With thanks to my lovely husband, who let me bounce ideas off him while we rode around two counties one fine October Sunday.

Partial beta help from ymfaery, adabsolutely, and Rhi. Any remaining errors are my own.

A Fine Mess

by Raine Wynd

Chapter 1

"Freeze, HPD! Drop your weapon!"

Swearing, Matthew set his sword down, unwilling to damage the ancient broadsword. He hadn't been expecting to be challenged less than six blocks away from the FBI's offices in Honolulu, but the attack had come so swiftly he'd had no choice but to defend himself. It had been all he could do to convince his opponent to head to the former CompUSA building, in hopes of having a private fight. Now the headless corpse lay at his feet; the Quickening energy still surged through his blood.

He could run, but he hadn't been to Honolulu in thirty years; he knew his mental map of the city was rusty at best. He had no bolt-hole, and having turned in his badge less than an hour before, no FBI credentials to shield him. He'd planned to take a few years' vacation from law enforcement and take some time to study the technology that threatened to expose him and every other one of his kind. Hawaii seemed like a perfect place to start. Now that plan lay in ruins.

He studied the cop who'd cornered him. Shorter than Matthew by five or six inches, he was a muscular, compactly built man with blondish brown hair and the stance of a veteran officer, gun held steady, ready to fire. The tie, dress shirt, khaki pants, and patent leather shoes seemed to indicate that he'd perhaps just come from a court appearance.

Matthew could overpower him, force him to shoot. Exiting custody via the morgue was a time-honored way of getting out of this sort of mess, though Matthew was pretty sure morgues had started locking their drawers. Having not expected to need them, he'd locked his lock picks up with his suitcase. Before Matthew could move, however, another man came up behind him, growled, "Hands behind your back," and efficiently secured him.

Turning his head, Matthew saw the man who held him prisoner. Just slightly taller than Matthew, he radiated equal parts annoyance and anger, and in his hazel eyes, Matthew recognized a killer. Matthew's eyes widened further when he realized the cop's partner was dressed in a Navy officer's dress uniform. He'd been captured by a Lieutenant Commander McGarrett, and decided silence was the better part of valor...for the moment.

Handcuffed, and quickly escorted into a waiting HPD cruiser, he was stuck playing a waiting game. He'd spent too many years in the FBI and had gotten a bit lax about having a backup identity, secure in the knowledge that he had the perfect alibi. This was not his day, and knowing he was more than old enough to know better only made it worse.

"So what have we got on the guy we arrested this morning?" Steve asked a few hours later. Between traffic and processing their suspect through HPD, it had taken him and Danny longer than Steve had anticipated.

"Matthew McCormick. Ex-FBI, specialized in serial killers," Kono said, pulling up the profile. "Looks like he arranged it so that he could turn in his last investigation with the field office here. He's listed as retired as of 12 pm today." The youngest member of the H50 team looked at her coworkers. "He hasn't said anything to anyone since you and Danny arrested him this morning, not even to ask for an attorney."

Danny frowned at that. "Ex-agent would know all the tricks; if he says nothing we have to wait on evidence to tie him to the crime scene. I didn't see him kill anyone, but that bloody sword was a dead giveaway. What about the vic?"

"Head's vaporized, but the prints match up to Quezada, who was on our be-on-the-lookout list," Chin Ho said. "Gun runner, dabbled in illegal meat as well."

"So McCormick did us a favor," Steve summarized. "What's the tie between him and Quezada?"

"That we don't know," Chin Ho said. "When did you arrest him?"

"About 12:30," Danny replied. He jerked his thumb at Steve. "He insisted we needed sushi after all that testimony."

Now more casually dressed, Steve crossed his arms defiantly. "As if you didn't eat all my California rolls," he shot back.

"Grace taught me to eat those," Danny retorted. "And you would've shot that woman if I hadn't been there."

"She was trespassing on my beach, and she hit my truck."

"So what did the judge say?" Chin Ho asked, derailing what had become a familiar debate.

"Fined her $500 and let her go, since she's not a local," Steve said. "She was drunk at the time of the incident and sincerely apologetic in court this morning. If she'd been local, the judge would've been harsher."

Chin Ho and Kono nodded knowingly. Tourists sometimes got breaks the locals didn't. "So what do you want to do with McCormick?"

"Talk to him," Steve decided. "He's not talking for a reason."

Chapter 2

One more mistake like that, and you'll lose your head, Matthew cursed himself as he sat in the holding cell. Thanks to his record as a police officer, he was being held away from the general population, which was a small comfort. Fighting in public, in broad daylight, three blocks from an office full of law enforcement? Where was your brain? Your sense of paranoia?

He knew the answer: he hadn't expected any trouble, and he'd had his mind on figuring out how to get from Honolulu to Lanai City, where he'd planned to rent a house. He thought he had time: time to get his next identity together, time to relax, time to plan his next move. It was no excuse: if he'd been a less experienced fighter, without seven centuries of practice engraved into his muscle memory, he wouldn't have the time to ponder regret. He was off his game, had been for the last six months. Grief always threw him off stride, made him reevaluate what he was doing.

He hadn't saved Anna by being a lawman; he'd painted a blood-red target on her instead.

For a moment, Matthew closed his eyes, the grief as fresh as the day he'd walked through his door to find her dead.

Thinking of her isn't going to get you out of here, old man, he admonished himself. Who can you call?

He knew no one on the islands. Most immortals used Hawaii as an unofficial place of truce; nobody wanted to start a witch hunt in an area where the good guys knew all the bad guys and vice versa. Most of Matthew's immortal friends were either on the mainland or scattered across the rest of the world. Then he smacked himself. Hawaii had three things his oldest student preferred when he wasn't going after something like a Federal Reserve: people he could charm into letting go of their money, people he could seduce, and people to whom he could give freely.

His oldest student had deliberately vanished off the map ten years previously, telling Matthew that he needed a break. Interpol had been nipping on his heels, and his favorite partner in crime had gone legit. It was a long shot, but it was all Matthew had; Cory owed him more than one lifetime's worth of favors.

It took a while before Matthew was brought to a phone room. The guard watched him while he dialed the number from memory.

"Good afternoon, this is Brad Corwin."

Deliberately, Matthew dropped into French. "Cory, I'm in trouble and I need your help. Are you anywhere near Hawaii?"

A pause, then disbelieving laughter met his statement. Matthew waited.

"You're not joking," was the stunned statement, also in French.

"No. I'm in jail in Honolulu. Can you get me out of here?"

"What, you can't use your get-out-of-jail card?"

"No, I retired. Someone decided my retirement should've been permanent." Annoyance crept into his voice. "Besides, Carl borrowed something of mine."

Cory whistled softly. "He never did plan well, did he?"

"No." Matthew had let his other student 'borrow' his spare identity in an emergency. Carl had yet to return it, and Matthew doubted he'd see it in time for it to be useful, especially since Carl was in South America. It still annoyed Matthew that Carl had managed to make an identity for a 6'1" Caucasian man work for 6'4" black man, but Matthew knew there were places in the world where it didn't pay to ask too many questions.

"Where did you say you were?"

Matthew told him again, repeating the precinct number. He had no doubt his student was local; Cory would have said otherwise by now.

Cory considered it a moment. "You're in luck. I'm in Kailua, but it's going to take a while for me to get there."

"Nothing like what I did for you in Phoenix," Matthew warned.

"Aw, you're no fun," Cory complained, then followed it with, "Do they know who you are?"

"I was three blocks from the office."

Cory chuckled. "You know I'm going to remind you of this." He paused. "Just like you never let me forget Memphis."

Matthew groaned. "Just get here, Cory."

Chapter 3

Matthew's hope that his former student would get there before he was interviewed faded as soon as the guards came to escort him to the interview room. Resigned, Matthew sat in the indicated chair, and watched the guard secure his cuffs. Shifting, Matthew got as comfortable as he could.

The cop who'd first drawn on him entered the room shortly thereafter, followed by his taller partner, now casually attired. Matthew cursed silently. McGarrett worried him; he was an unknown quantity.

"Shall we start with the formalities?" the shorter man asked, taking a seat at the table across from Matthew. "Your prints come back as Matthew McCormick, late of the FBI. I'm Detective Danny Williams and that guy –" he jerked a thumb back at his partner, who'd chosen to lounge against the wall "—is someone you do not want to piss off. So, let's start with the easy questions: why'd you kill Quezada?"

"Is that his name?" Matthew drawled. "I'm sorry, but we didn't get around to introductions."

"Really."

Southern charm wasn't going to work on him, Matthew decided. "Really. He attacked me. I was merely defending myself."

"With a 17th century broadsword?" Danny demanded skeptically.

Matthew leaned more negligently in his chair. "He attacked me with it. I merely took it away from him."

From across the room, McGarrett observed, "That doesn't explain the lightning, or the explosion that blew open the door of the empty store."

Matthew looked across the room. "Some puzzles aren't worth finding the answers to, Lieutenant Commander."

A dry chuckle met his words. "A good memory," he complimented McCormick. To his partner, he said, "You owe me five bucks, Danno."

Danny rolled his eyes. "You suckered me," he shot back. To McCormick, he said, "So here's the deal. You're in the custody of Hawaii 5-0, which means we get to decide what to do with you."

"Hawaii 5-0?" Matthew repeated, confused.

"Special Investigations unit," Danny clarified. "If you hadn't retired, you'd probably be a little more aware of us."

"Good thing you're retiring now, McCormick," the Agent-in-Charge had told him as he'd turned in his badge and gun. "Governor's stirring up trouble with this special unit here in Honolulu – they're going after the ones we can't, and rumor has it they don't have to wait around for warrants and judges. Got some Navy guy heading it up."

Remembering that conversation, Matthew groaned mentally. A unit that had the governor's authority to what they wanted, dispensing justice as they saw fit, was not the kind of group Matthew needed to be the focus of — this or any other lifetime. "And this is important because…?" Matthew feigned innocence.

"Because it means we can lock you up and throw away the key," McGarrett growled. "What's your involvement with Quezada?"

"About twenty minutes," Matthew snapped back. "He wasn't as good as he thought."

"You didn't know him before this?" Danny pressed.

"No."

The sound of footsteps in the hallway warned Matthew they would have company seconds before a knock sounded on the door. McGarrett answered it, slipping out of the room. When he returned, he was scowling. To Danny, he said, "We're done here. McCormick, you're free to go. Seems someone's paid your bail. Don't leave the state. We're not finished."

Steve stalked out the door, Danny following in his wake. The guard unlocked Matthew's cuffs, then escorted him out of the room, down away from the cells. The frisson of immortality hit Matthew as he approached the jail exit, collected his personal items, and walked out the door.

Cory stood in the lobby, looking like a refugee from a biker bar. "They treat you okay?" he asked as they headed outside.

Matthew nodded tightly. "We'll talk later. What are you driving?"

Cory grinned as they entered the parking lot. "When's the last time you were on one of these?" he asked, pointing to the classic cruiser.

"Memphis," Matthew retorted, but he took the three-quarter helmet and goggles Cory handed him, and put them on.

The younger immortal sighed and shook his head. Reaching over, he activated the communications unit on the side of Matthew's helmet before he put on a similar helmet, activating it as well. Then Cory mounted the motorcycle. Matthew climbed on, then Cory started the machine.

"How did you get me out?" Matthew asked once they were clear of the jail.

Cory chuckled. "Took a page out of your book: asked if you'd been charged with anything yet," was the amused reply. "They were just holding you for questioning. If you want, I can get you to the mainland."

Matthew considered the notion. "Not yet," he said finally. "The local law's not what I thought it was going to be, and any flights will be monitored for the next forty-eight hours."

"Who said anything about flying?" Cory asked seriously.

"You are not killing me and shipping me to Russia in a carton and back," Matthew warned him. "You got eviscerated trying that, remember?"

Cory sighed. "How was I to know they were running drug smuggling scams that way? What about Atlanta? If you're dead, they'd expect you to be buried there."

"Not yet," Matthew said, then grinned. "I haven't played cat and mouse like this in years, and I need time to figure out the players."

Cory said nothing for the next half mile. "Last time you weren't in law enforcement was in 1905," he said. "You had that farm out in Alberta."

Matthew smiled; it was a good memory. "Never did master that damned horse," he said. "How long did you have her after you stole her from me?"

Cory laughed. "Two years. Someone shot her out from under me."

Matthew shook his head, unsurprised.

"You sure you want to go back to that kind of living?" Cory asked. "It's rare when you haven't been the sheriff of some sort."

"World's different now," Matthew said. "Technology makes the world a lot smaller, and easier to track."

"What was her name?" Cory asked knowingly.

Matthew wasn't surprised Cory knew him that well. They'd been friends for seven centuries; Cory was like a son to him — the one he knew would always be in trouble. They'd been on opposite sides of the law for too many years to count, starting with the poaching incident that had led to Cory's first death. If Cory ever decided to take his head, Matthew knew the fight would be a close one.

"Okay, so what was his name?" Cory prompted when Matthew didn't answer.

Matthew chuckled. "Her name was Anna." He paused, then added, "Though it's been a while since I was with a man," he mused.

Cory grinned. "I can help with that," he flirted.

Matthew laughed. "Only if I want a thief in my bed," he shot back.

Undaunted, Cory said, "You'll change your mind."

"Not likely," Matthew retorted. "How far are we going anyway, and is traffic usually this backed up?"

"Almost thirty miles total. It's Wednesday. Rush hour starts at two, with the schools letting out early," Cory told him. "Once we get past this area here, we should be okay." Cory glanced over his shoulder. "Come on, we've ridden horses longer than this."

"Yes, but were we any less sore by the end of the day?" Matthew pointed out.

Cory wisely chose to remain silent.

Chapter 4

Fifteen minutes later, Cory spoke up again. "I picked up your carry-on from the hotel; it's in the saddlebag. Did you lose your sword?"

"Airline made me check it at the last minute, then stuck it on a different plane," Matthew said, disgusted. "It's supposed to be on the seven o'clock flight from Baltimore. I was headed to find a sword shop when I was challenged." Mindful of his seat on the motorcycle, Matthew controlled a shudder. The challenge had been closer than he'd liked, and had hinged on the other immortal's willingness to believe that Matthew would surrender his head.

"Thought that was my line," Cory mused. "Walk around without a sword."

Matthew chuckled. "Works for you, doesn't it?"

In reply, Cory tapped the scabbard mounted on one side of the bike. "Used to," he said pointedly. "There's always someone who won't be seduced or charmed, and I'm tired of blowing people up."

Matthew laughed again. "Oh, you mean you haven't found a new explosives supplier."

Cory grinned ruefully. "I can't get away with anything with you, can I?" he complained.

"Oh, I don't know," Matthew mused as the traffic opened up into a clearer stretch of highway. "There was that theft you pulled in Monaco with Amanda I didn't hear about until fifty years later."

"She cheated," Cory griped.

Laughing, Matthew said, "When hasn't she?"

Cory laughed ruefully. "She wasn't supposed to cheat me."

"What, you only figured that out after how long?" Matthew teased.

Cory gunned the motorcycle, effectively silencing him. Matthew just laughed, enjoying the moment. Cory was the first immortal Matthew had ever trained, a mere fifty years after becoming immortal himself. Through the seven centuries since, their paths had tangled, but the friendship that had been forged in those first years of Cory's immortality bound them in a way that meant they'd always be there for each other…even if it had meant that Matthew arrested Cory, or found ways to get him out of trouble.

Grimly, Matthew admitted that he was going to need his student's talent in extricating himself out of difficult situations. He had no doubt that McGarrett and Williams wouldn't rest until they had the answers they needed, and the only thing that would save him now would be some legal wrangling…and maybe a little bit of judicious hacking.

*****

"I don't believe this," Steve said two days later, stabbing his screen at the offending email. "'Dropped for lack of evidence?' We saw him holding a bloody sword!"

Danny looked at his partner sympathetically. "DA said that since McCormick was an agent, it's possible that he was acting in self-defense. Even the sword checks out as Quezada's; it was on his insurance. Oh, and we finally got the detail on McCormick's luggage that was checked into baggage at the last minute. It was an electric guitar." Borrowing Steve's wireless keyboard, Danny brought up the picture of the X-ray scan.

Steve's eyes narrowed. "You believe that?"

Danny met his gaze. "Like I believe in the Tooth Fairy. My cousin used to do that SCA thing — McCormick didn't hold that sword like he was unfamiliar with it."

"We got any way to prove what we both know?"

Danny shook his head. "Not without going before a judge and asking for a warrant, maybe even doing the whole legal dance. Guy like McCormick would know all the tricks — for all we know the FBI could be interfering on his behalf. He put away some of the most violent serial killers on record; hell, I'm impressed he even managed to catch some of those creeps."

Steve swore. "I like my way better – no red tape. Tell me again why we had to go through all the regular channels?"

"Because it wasn't a case of eminent danger to the state of Hawaii," Danny returned. "Come on, you know that rule as well as I do. You're the one who explained it to me, remember?"

Steve blew out a breath, clearly frustrated. "All right. We'll let it go for now. But I want to keep an eye out for McCormick." He closed the email and turned to Danny, who held a file in his hands. "What do you have for me?"

Wryly, Danny said, "That thing you hate: paperwork. My captain wants to know if you're borrowing me permanently."

Steve blinked at that. "I don't know how long the governor wants this task force around," he said cautiously. "Why?"

"Because —" Danny tapped the file "it means the task force becomes responsible for —"

"Pay and personnel," Steve finished, glancing at the file, which was stamped 'Property of HPD HR'."The governor won't go for that, since she's 'borrowing' expertise for this project. If I'm still Navy, then you're still HPD. What did you do to piss off your captain? Besides wear a tie."

"I might've suggested he wasn't a cop," Danny allowed.

"Because he wasn't wearing a tie," Steve guessed. "Let me guess, first day?"

"Second," Danny admitted. "Hey, he wasn't there the first day."

Steve shook his head. "What's his number?"

Even as he dialed the number for Danny's captain, Steve couldn't shake the sense that he was far from being done with McCormick.

Chapter 5

Two weeks later

Seated under the shade of a patio umbrella, Cory sipped a mixed drink and studied the beachfront restaurant. Idly, he debated the odds of his success with the Thursday afternoon crowd, and had just narrowed his target down to a pair of busty brunettes when immortal presence sang in his head.

Matthew said he'd meet me here, Cory thought, but not until after he checked out that condo in Waimanalo. That won't be until after four, and it's only two. So who's here?

Casually, he glanced around, then swore mentally in Russian. Bracing himself, he watched as the willowy female immortal made her way to his table, recognizing her as Isadora Sagudan. Though her skin was the nut brown of a Filipina, she was not as short as her heritage would indicate. Immortals tended to be taller, as if the gene that produced it had ensured they wouldn't eventually stand out as midgets. It had made her stand out as a possible mixed-blood, a mestiza, alternately adored and hated in Filipino culture.

Isadora swept her gaze over him. "And here I thought you might eventually change, Cory. Find a beach anywhere in the world and you're there."

"Once upon a time you wanted to be right there with me, sugar," Cory drawled, ignoring the flash of memory that seared through him: the heat of her kisses, the warmth of her passion, the joy of learning what love meant, her insanity when her sacrifice for Cory was rewarded with immortality instead of death.

Isadora lifted her head haughtily. "Just stay out of my way."

"Sure, if you tell me what I might be in the way of," he bargained, well aware that she had always some grand scheme for money in the works.

"Everything," she shot back.

"Sorry, but I was here first," he argued. "You came here."

Isadora narrowed her brown eyes. "Fine," she bit off, then flounced away.

Cory let out a breath, relieved she hadn't pushed for a confrontation. He had no desire to take her head — or anyone else's, for that matter. Yet Isadora had been one of the few to make him reconsider his decision to not get into the Game's machinations for power. That alone made him worry. If Isadora was here, maybe it was time to leave Hawaii. Cory had been here ten years already — long enough to make the kind of connections where people remembered who you were.

Matthew won't leave, Cory remembered, and swore. His teacher was still off balance with grief, and it was taking longer than Cory liked. Today had been the first day that Cory had felt comfortable leaving Matthew's side, and now he found himself wishing he hadn't. Leaving Matthew alone was out of the question, and calling for help from another immortal tended to raise flags. Cory had never doubted the power of the immortal grapevine, and he had no wish to bring Matthew to the attention of hunters looking for an easy kill.

Cory had survived seven centuries by trusting few. He wasn't about to start changing the habits of a lifetime. With a wistful sigh over his lost afternoon, Cory rose from the table. Matthew had always loved making plans…they were going to need a good one if they weren't going to be blamed when Isadora cut loose.

Chapter 6

Three weeks later

Stepping into the office, Steve studied the displays around the conference table. All but the main one were off, and the profile on display didn't match any suspect on the Hawaii 5-0 team's agenda. Danny sat at the head of the table, clearly intent on discerning the difference between the tablet in his hand and the computer.

"It's Sunday," he pointed out to Danny.

Danny didn't look entirely surprised to hear him. "You're here," he countered.

Steve shrugged. "I needed my cell phone charger and remembered I'd left it here," he explained. He studied the profile on display.

The photo was of a grinning man with almost visible charm. Next to it read the name: Cory Raines. Underneath it were the words "Bank Robbery; Unlawful Flight to Avoid Prosecution — Armed Robbery; Theft From Interstate Shipment". Ignoring the award amount, Steve read on.

Cory Raines is wanted for armed robbery in Seacouver, Washington and multiple other locations from 1980 – 1999. In 1996, he robbed a truck destined for the Federal Reserve at gunpoint.

Raines speaks fluent French, Russian, and Spanish. No records of education exist for him, but he is well-read and articulate. He is an avid motorcyclist, martial artist, and archer. He has been known to target charities for his "donations", giving away almost as much as he stole. He has been described as possibly having bisexual tendencies. He is a skilled forger, and has been known to create identities for others. He is careful not to hurt people, though his style of robbery is extensively damaging to property.

Raines has ties to Massachusetts and Louisiana. In the past, he has traveled to France, Mexico, and numerous other international locations. Additionally, he may be in the possession of a Glock 9mm, a .45 caliber handgun, a military-grade crossbow, and various explosives.

Scars and Marks: None

Aliases: Corwin Green, Ramsey Corwin, Eugeny Sidorov

Date(s) of Birth Used: June 22, 1962

Hair: Dark Brown

Place of Birth: Boston, Massachusetts Eyes: Green

Height: 6'1" Complexion: Light

Weight: 180 to 190 pounds Sex: Male

Build: Medium Race: White

Occupation: Varies depending on name used

Nationality: Varies depending on name used

At the end of the profile, Steve noted the "updated info" link. Stepping to the display built into table, he clicked on the link, and saw that the profile had "Confirmed — Deceased October 26, 2000. Killed in shootout with Memphis, TN police" added to it.

"So?" Steve turned to Danny. "Why this guy?"

"Because that program that scans the Homeland Security watch list for people of interest pinged on him, and I've been trying to figure out why a dead guy would still be interesting."

"Do you not have a hobby?" Steve demanded.

"Yeah, it's called figuring out puzzles," Danny shot back. "And it's on my own time, boss, so you just go do whatever you were doing."

Mulling that over, Steve went back to his office and picked up his spare phone charger. Then stepped back out, and saw that Danny had started running a photo comparison. Steve's eyes narrowed. "You don't think he's dead. Where'd you see him?"

Danny sighed. "Can't a guy have all his facts before he jumps in guns waving and knee aching?"

"Sure," Steve agreed readily, seating himself in a chair across from Danny. "What came across the scanner this morning?"

"Nothing," Danny denied.

Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe nothing," Danny amended, tapping the display to bring up the police scanner log for the last twenty-four hours. "See? No alarms triggered. But the Paycheck Advance on Kapiolani Blvdis 'closed for emergency repairs' this morning and the ATM's out of order, which is why I came in — I wanted to check and see if maybe something happened."

Steve frowned. "Don't you have an ATM closer to your place?"

"Yeah, but their ATM doesn't charge a fee," Danny countered. "I haven't moved my bank account from New Jersey yet."

Steve nodded understanding.

"Now, there's a lack of news about this — not surprising, it's one place, right?"

"What makes you think something's up?"

"Because the same thing happened with the 7-11 on North King Street last week and Shop 'n Go on Kalakaua Avenue two weeks ago," Danny said. He pointed to the police scanner log. "That code means a fire truck went to that location, but alarms were also triggered at the nearby banks. The detail report says both were false alarms, but what if someone was testing to see what kind of response they'd get?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but dead guys don't rob banks." Slapping Danny on the back, he said, "Come on, too much work and no play makes Danno a dull boy. Let HPD handle it. If there's a problem, you know we'll get called."

Aware that Steve would only annoy him into leaving, Danny sighed and rose. Logging off the display, he said, "If you say anything about sitting in the sun —"

Steve rolled his eyes. "I have sunscreen, you big baby."

"But I don't —"

Gently pushing him ahead, Steve cut him off with, "Yes, you have swim trunks; I saw them in the back seat of your car."

"Look, I know where you're going with this, and no, we are not swimming in the ocean off your beach," Danny protested, turning to look at him. At Steve's look of disbelief, Danny said, "Oh, and don't get me started about the chemicals in a pool, but at least there's no sharks or jellyfish or —"

"—anything that might actually be interesting?" Steve finished.

"We can't all be Navy SEALs, you know. I left a perfectly good department in a decent neighborhood –—"

"You worked Homicide," Steve said flatly. "Couldn't have been all that decent if you closed eighty-one homicide cases."

Unable to argue with that logic, Danny decided that retreat was the better part of valor. Still, he promised himself he would check on it later. Steve wasn't trained as a cop, and it hadn't escaped Danny's notice that there were some things Steve was all too willing to let someone else handle. Danny preferred to prevent problems where he could, and his cop instinct told him that what he found heralded trouble. He just wasn't sure what that trouble meant yet.

Chapter 7

The following day

"You have that look," Cory observed, coming to stand next to his former teacher and leaning on the railing of the terrace of the beach house he owned.

A half-finished bottle of beer in hand, Matthew turned to meet his gaze. "What look?"

"The one that means I better get out of town," Cory told him, grinning.

Matthew looked at him sharply and set the bottle down on the railing. "You forgot to mention Isadora was here."

"Did I?" Cory looked contrite. "I'm sorry, it slipped my mind." His hands underscored his words.

"Did you learn that one from Amanda?" Matthew mused, and Cory flushed. "I'm not that gullible, Corwin. Last time you crossed paths with Isadora you nearly lost your head, and nearly got me arrested for aiding and abetting a federal fugitive. I thought you were smarter than that." Matthew's voice was mild, but delivered a whip-like sting.

Still, Cory held his ground: Matthew had yelled at him in that quiet-but-deadly voice before, in far worse situations. "You weren't ready to hear it," he countered, matching Matthew's tone. "That was the day you went from being able to handle house-hunting to sitting in the living room staring at the wall. I could've taken your head."

"You wouldn't." Matthew turned to study him, remembered history in his eyes. "You never could. Even when it would've been easier."

"No fun in that. Who'd bail me out of trouble?"

Matthew chuckled briefly, then sobered. "You can't protect me forever, Cory."

Cory stepped closer. "Don't tell me what I can't do. I'm not your student anymore, Matthew of Salisbury, or your squire." Cory paused and met Matthew's gaze. "I've heard your nightmares; I know you found your lover pinned to the bedroom wall like a damned butterfly. You almost lost your head a few weeks ago, remember? You'll pardon me if I'm a little concerned."

The older immortal acknowledged that truth with a nod. "What happened to Anna could've been much worse. Isadora tried to kill you. I thought she'd gone back to Manila, else I would've put her on my target list. If I hadn't seen the news feature about the upcoming show and seen her in the video, you wouldn't have told me, would you?"

"And how do you suppose you're going to deal with her now?" Cory demanded impatiently. "Without your badge and all the privileges of that rank?"

Now Matthew smiled. "A retired FBI agent can always be curious."

"Damn it, Matthew, I don't want you anywhere near her! Hell, I think we should book a flight to Paris — there's a lovely bar there —"

"Oh, the one on Holy Ground?" Matthew shot back, and Cory tried not to look surprised that the older immortal knew about it. Matthew quirked a smile. "What, you think I didn't know Amanda bought a bar?"

Cory sighed and bit off, "Fine. How do we get off this island?"

Matthew shook his head. "Wrong question."

"I am not taking Isadora's damned head. She wasn’t crazy before she decided to run out and try to save me from Kurt Huntingfield." Cory shuddered, remembering how Kurt had run her through, forcing Cory to defend her before Kurt had taken her newly immortal head. "Maybe I should've let Huntingfield take her head."

"Could you have?"

Cory sighed again. "I loved her too much then."

"And now?"

Green eyes met green eyes. "Not without an escape plan."

"We're not going to get out of Hawaii if she starts blowing things up; they'll lock down all points of exit. What were you thinking, teaching her to handle explosives?"

"How not to blow her head off," Cory shot back. "She was already handling them, planning on blowing up the Japanese."

Matthew arched an eyebrow. "And maybe teaching her to be your partner if she agreed to let you kill her?"

"I didn't plan on Huntington showing up," Cory snapped.

"You got my wire, didn't you?"

"Yeah, the next day. It was wartime, remember? I was trying to convince Isadora to get the hell out of Manila."

Matthew studied him a moment, then said, "Clean up. We have a performance to see."

"Performance?"

In reply, Matthew showed him a newspaper advertisement. "Luzon Dance Company One Night Only — Last Stop in US!" read the ad.

"That's not until Wednesday," Cory objected. "Besides, I said I wouldn't get in her way."

"Of course you won't," Matthew assured him. "But surely you'd like to scope out the layout, see what she's planning?"

Cory knew that tone, and cursed the fact that the bathroom in the house didn't have a window out of which he could escape. "And if I said I didn't want to know?"

Matthew looked at him skeptically.

"Okay, so maybe I'm a little curious, and —"

"She has a bad tendency to hurt people who aren't us," Matthew pointed out. "And you know theaters tend to put on charity performances the day before the big show. Dance performances are usually considered safe for kids."

Cory looked skyward, hoping for some divine intervention. None came. He sighed, aware that his old friend knew exactly what would get his undivided attention. "I suppose we can just drive by."

Chapter 8

Sitting around the conference table that same afternoon, the H50 team studied the information on the ATM robberies. Chin Ho had just expressed his disgust over the incompetence of the Theft unit when Danny's phone rang.

The ringtone was the default one Danny used for people he didn't know. For half a second, Danny debated answering, then decided to put it on speakerphone instead. "Detective Williams. Can I help you?"

"Daddy? Can you come get me? I don't like it here."

Alarmed, Danny grabbed the phone, but Steve's hand on his wrist stopped him. Shooting him a glare, Danny managed to keep a reasonable tone. "Hey monkey, where's here?"

"The Hawaii Theater. There's a lady who's very mad and she has everybody scared."

"Where are you?"

"I was in the bathroom. This nice man came in and found me. I told him my daddy was a policeman and he said to call you. He's right here. We're across the street."

The voice that came on the line was unfamiliar to everyone. "I'll keep her safe," he promised. "But you'd better hurry. I'm not sure Isadora's buying what Matthew's selling, and if I know her, she has this place wired. I only managed to get about half the kids out."

"Who are you?"

But the caller disconnected the line without answering. Alarm went though Danny as the implications set in. Reading his expression, Steve promised, "We'll get her back."

Chin Ho picked up the phone to confirm the incident with police dispatch as Kono called up the satellite photos for the Hawaii Theater and called the school.

Within minutes, they had the confirmation they needed — and more. Isadora turned out to be Isadora Sagundo, listed as the creative consultant for the Luzon Dance Company. By the time Steve and Danny arrived on the scene, the presence of explosives had been confirmed, and Isadora was cooperative — to a point. She'd released the rest of the children and most of the performers, but now the producer and a civilian were being held hostage.

The SWAT team leader met Steve at his car, while Danny ran to make sure his daughter was okay. "Sir, you need to hear this." He pressed play on a recorded audio clip on his phone.

A man with a Southern drawl pleaded, "Isadora, leave him out of this. Fight me, fairly."

"You are not the one I want," Isadora hissed. "And he dared to insult my talent in choreography!" A shot was fired.

"How long ago was this?"

"Less than two minutes. The building is rigged to blow; we have a team working to dismantle as many of the devices as we can. The suspect is in the main part of the theater, in the lower section."

Steve swore. Looking down the block, he saw Danny hugging Grace. Just beyond them, a tall, boyishly handsome man hung back from the crowd.

"One more thing," the SWAT leader said.

Steve looked at him.

"That civilian insists he's the key to ending this," the SWAT leader said, indicating the man standing off to the side.

Steve studied the officer. "Your take on him?"

"He's hooked into the guy inside, the one with the Southern drawl."

"Any info on him?"

"Former FBI agent, Matthew McCormick."

Steve stiffened as the name clicked with his mental file. That same mental file also remembered that the guy hanging back looked suspiciously like the one Danny had pulled up not long ago. Eyes narrowing, Steve waited until Danny had reassured himself that Grace was okay and had sent her on her way with a patrol officer.

"What's the situation?" Danny asked.

In reply, Steve turned him in the direction of the man the SWAT leader had pointed out. Danny's eyes widened. "I don't believe in coincidences. What the hell is he doing here?"

He didn't have long to dwell on that, however. Abruptly, a stocky, older man stumbled out of the theater, looking terrified and relieved at the same time.

"Don't shoot, I'm Max, the producer," he called out as police officers surrounded him and checked him out. "She shot the other guy. And she said I had to tell you guys something strange."

Steve and Danny stepped closer. Danny looked at Max. "What did she say?" Steve asked.

"She said for you to stay out of the theater."

"Did she say why?"

Max didn't answer for a moment.

"It's okay, you can take your time," Danny assured him.

"No, I'm fine," Max said hastily. "Isadora's a bitch; always has been. She's been a bit of a diva, too." He shrugged. "Artists. Egos up to here; part of the job to deal with them. But I never thought she'd go this far. Whatever she's after with that guy is serious."

"Let me go in," a new voice broke in.

Steve and Danny turned to see Cory behind them.

"I’m the one Isadora's always wanted," he offered.

Max stared at him. "You Cory Raines?"

He nodded. Turning to Steve and Danny, he urged, "She's going to kill Matthew if you don't let me in there, and trust me, you don't want that happening."

Danny eyed him. "Why not?" he challenged.

"If Isadora takes Matthew's head, this block won't be left standing." Cory looked grim.

Steve and Danny exchanged looks. No way were they going to let an unknown quantity, a possible wanted felon, into a situation filled with chaos.

"Fine," Cory bit off. He walked off, and it looked as though he'd accepted their decision.

Steve studied the floor plan the SWAT team leader handed him before going to escort Max away from the scene and moved to examine it closely.

"Danny, see if you can find more info on this Isadora," Steve directed as Kono and Chin Ho joined them. "Any news on the explosives?" he asked Chin Ho.

"Bomb squad says he thinks there's a big one somewhere either on the stage or in the pit. Says there's some weird magnetic field distortion thing going on that's causing their meters to go haywire. They had to pull back — they couldn't go any farther into the building because they didn't want to tip off Isadora how far they'd gone."

Suddenly, a roar of a motorcycle got everyone's attention. Pulling just short of the entrance, the leather-clad biker dumped the bike, grabbed something off the side, and ran into the building. Swearing, Steve and Danny followed him, waving off the other officers as they did so.

Chapter 9

It didn't take them long to catch up to the man, who was only ahead of them by inches. On the stage, Isadora held a gun to Matthew's head, laughing manically.

Matthew already looked as though he'd been shot at least once, maybe twice. Blood poured out of a fatal chest wound as he sat tied to a chair.

At Cory's grand entrance, Isadora froze for a moment, then aimed for Cory. The bullet hit him squarely, and he grunted at the impact. Impossibly, he tried to keep going, managing to deflect Steve's attempt to grab him.

Danny went for Cory as well, but quickly paused as he saw the flash of steel Cory carried. Concerned for his partner, Danny shifted position quickly, and pulled Steve back instead. "He's carrying a sword," Danny hissed.

Steve glared at him, but Danny ignored him in favor of drawing his weapon and shouting, "Freeze, H50. You on the stage, put down your weapon."

Taking a deep breath, Cory pulled a bloody hand away from his chest and wiped it on his jeans. "Stay out of this," he told them, even as he advanced towards the stage. "Isadora, if you're going to take his head, you're not going to live to regret it."

Isadora laughed. "Oh, but if I take his head, I can take yours," she countered. "But since you asked so nice, I promise I'll play fair." She aimed her gun again, and fired once. Cory dropped like a stone, dead. Then she looked at Steve and Danny. "If you want to live, you'll do what I want. One of you, bring me the sword Cory was carrying."

"Do as she says," Matthew said, all traces of a Southern accent gone. In its place was a commanding, crisp British accent. The change startled Danny.

"Shouldn't you be dead?" Danny asked, stalling.

Matthew let a small smile cross his lips. "Not yet. Not if you bring that sword up here."

Sizing up the situation, Steve went with his gut. Either Matthew was wearing some kind of vest underneath his shirt or he had a very good reason for wanting the sword Cory had seemed determined to deliver. Easing the sword out of Cory's grip, Steve moved to deliver it. His heart pounded with the rush of adrenaline as, at Isadora's direction, he set it carefully between Matthew and Isadora, mindful of Isadora's aim with the gun. She had at least two bullets left in the chamber — more than enough to hurt him.

"You —" Isadora pointed to Steve "— untie him." Her hands indicated Matthew.

Once that was done, Steve waited, poised to disarm her, but Matthew's hand on his wrist stalled him. "Go, sit down," he said softly. "Sit on Cory if you have to, but you cannot interfere."

Steve's eyes widened at that. "Are you crazy?" he hissed.

"No," Matthew said. "Leave us now and sit down."

The sharp bite of command voice was something Steve had learned not to ignore, and he reacted instinctively before his conscious brain caught up to the fact he'd moved off stage. He turned back in time to see Isadora had produced a pira cotabato, a traditional Filipino sword with a wicked edge and a heavy blade.

Matthew had taken possession of Cory's sword, holding it in a way that reminded Steve of the way he'd seen Matthew hold a similar sword not that long ago. Competence radiated through him as he dodged Isadora's opening attack, and countered it with a parry of his own.

On and on, the deadly ballet continued. From the safety of the seating section closest to the stage, Steve ran through his options, but something about the sword fight made him pause. Shooting Matthew didn't seem to have any permanent effects; the probability that Isadora was just like him was high. Then Cory stirred, groaning as he sat up in the aisle where he fell, swearing in Russian as he realized both Steve and Danny had been watching him.

In the same language, Steve answered him. "What the fuck are you? Immortal?"

Cory eyed him warily before replying, also in Russian. "No, that's the wrong question, Commander. It should be 'Who are you'? The answer is: I'm Robin Hood." He rose to his knees, and Steve heard Danny gasp in a way that made Steve lean back to see what made his partner had seen.

"His jacket has a bullet hole in the back," Danny said, stunned. "He shouldn't be alive. And what are you saying?"

Cory got to his feet. "I'm really sorry, Commander McGarrett, but it's better this way," he said in English, and drew a tranquilizer gun from his motorcycle jacket. Before either Danny or Steve could react, he shot them both, stunning them instantly.

****

Mindful of the fact that losing was out of the question unless he wanted to cause a volcanic eruption, and that a quickening of any size in such a grand structure was dangerous, Matthew was deliberate in his parries. Isadora soon tired under his careful strategy; though trained in wielding her sword, she wasn't as practiced with it as she could be.

Forcing her to her knees, Matthew stabbed her in the heart. Dead, she keeled over. Breathing from the exertion, Matthew then turned his attention to the audience. Seeing that Cory had dealt with the cops, he swore under his breath at his student's methods even as he admitted how effective they were.

"Hurry," he told Cory. "I want to get out of here and to the pier," he said. "Otherwise this isn't going to work."

Nodding grimly, Cory headed up to the stage. Getting out of a place surrounded by cops was old hat for him, but this wasn't going to be easy. It reminded him of a heist he'd pulled in Monaco, right down to the need for an untraceable but fast boat in advance. His smile widened as he contemplated just how he was going to tease his oldest friend about this particular mess, even as he hefted Isadora's dead weight into an equipment trunk.

Chapter 10

"Oh, man, what the hell did they shoot me with?" Steve groaned. A quick assessing glance told him he was in a hospital room; Danny was in the bed next to him, still apparently out for the count. Kono smiled as she stepped inside.

"Was wondering when you'd wake up," she said. "Doc said the only treatment they could do for you is let you sleep it off and make sure you weren't feeling too nauseous when you woke up," Anticipating his next question, she said, "It's been almost forty-eight hours."

"The people in the auditorium — where are they? Isadora, Matthew McCormick, and Cory Raines?" Steve's head pounded with the force of the worst hangover he'd ever had.

Kono shook her head. "Sorry. I traced McCormick and Raines to a house on Ewa Beach. It was rented out to a Brad Corwin; it's been cleared out. Raines was also working part-time in a motorcycle shop in Kailua, but he hasn't shown up for work."

"Isadora?"

"No trace of her. No one's seen her, and the dance troupe flew out after their performance yesterday." Kono paused, then pulled an envelope out from a pocket and handed it to Steve. "This came in for you by courier this morning."

Taking the envelope, which had been taped shut, Steve quickly opened it. Inside was a key.

"I figured you'd want to know what was in it, so I took the liberty of looking into it. It's to a storage locker down by the pier," Kono explained. "Had one of the equipment trunks from the dance troupe in it — one of the ones that are big enough to fit someone inside. There was some blood, but we didn't find anyone."

Sensing there was more, Steve looked at Kono expectantly.

"There was also a note. It said some legends never die, but justice is always served." She paused. "We also received a report of an odd lightning storm offshore just before dawn yesterday morning, and a boat adrift was recovered by the Coast Guard about 7 am."

"Anyone aboard?"

Kono shook her head just as her phone buzzed. Slipping it off her belt, she answered it, switching it over to speaker phone so Steve could also hear.

"Just got the update from the Coast Guard," Chin said. "They just confirmed they found two bodies aboard — two men dead of gunshot wounds."

"Why weren't we notified sooner?" Steve demanded. A sinking feeling had formed in his gut. If McCormick and Raines were immortal, as he suspected they were, then dying temporarily would be a great way to drop all suspicion.

"Good to know you're awake, brah," Chin said with a grin, then he sobered. "They weren't sure who had jurisdiction over the bodies, and they were embarrassed to admit they'd lost them."

Steve groaned. "Lost them?"

"The airman who handled the bodies swears he brought them to the morgue, but when they opened the body bags, all they found was a pair of mannequins."

"Damn it." He had nothing to use to chase McCormick and Raines — what threat were they to the safety of Hawaii if they'd clearly targeted one particular individual who'd already shown she had no regard for others? Steve knew his team would think he was even more unhinged than usual if he set their sights on those two. "All right. We'll deal with them if they come back to Hawaii," he decided. "In the meantime, have divers search —"

"Already done," Chin interrupted. "We found Isadora's head, but not much else. My guess is that the sharks took care of the rest."

"Thanks, Chin," Steve told him as Danny began to stir in the other bed. "Good work," he said to Chin and to Kono.

Kono looked at Steve sympathetically. "Sorry it's not better news."

He shrugged and tried to see the bright side. "One less person terrorizing kids at a dance performance, one less person we have to go find." He looked over at the other bed as Danny moaned, and hit the nurse call button.

"What the fuck did he shoot me with?" Danny demanded miserably. "Please tell me we have him in custody."

"Sorry, brah, can't do that," Steve said. "But they won't be a problem. Kono, why don't you bring him up to speed? I think I’m going to close my eyes; the room's still spinning a little."

Kono chuckled a bit at that understatement. "Sure."

Steve closed his eyes and listened to Kono updating Danny, then Danny arguing with the nurse about how she couldn't possibly understand the scope of his pain, letting the familiarity of Danny's bickering serve as background as he contemplated his next move.

Maybe I'll take McCormick up on his advice when he'd said some puzzles aren't worth finding the answers to, Steve thought. Focus on what we know to be a threat to our island — not people who know how to deal with things that belong in myths. Maybe they're part of some operation so classified the rest of the world can't ever know about them. Yeah, that's probably it. Else why would McCormick and Raines both warn us not to interfere?

Pleased with his reasoning, certain his instincts were correct, Steve let himself relax, opening his eyes only briefly to tell Danny, "Hey, my head hurts too. Give the nice nurse a break, okay?"

"Oh, sorry, but some of us haven't learned to endure pain like G.I. Joe over there," Danny bitched, and Steve smiled. Hawaii was safe, Danny was going to be just fine, and for now, those were what mattered most.

~finis~ 11/13/10

Comments welcome, at HLFiction, AO3, or at my journal.