Fic: Malasada's H5Obigbang chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT: Foreign Affairs
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Travelling on a ship was hell. Danny had come to that conclusion the moment he’d climbed unwillingly onboard, but he had since realized that the small swells that had rocked the motorboat he’d initially been on, and made boarding such a challenge that first day, had been nothing more than an afterthought on the mighty Pacific.
Whoever thought travelling by ship was a good idea probably also thought that cheese in a can and spray on condoms were worthy of a Noble Prize.
Obviously cruise ships catered to fun times and incorporated stabilizers that tried to soften the roiling blow of the wild waters, but cargo ships were working ships and its seafaring crews either adapted to the continuous rise and fall of the ship through the swells, or they got out of the business. Danny wanted out. Out, off, up, whatever, he didn’t want to be on the ship and its lack of solid ground anymore. There was a reason he wasn’t a water person, there was a reason he avoided going on the cruise tours with Grace and the nice catamaran trip when Kamekono’s cousin had offered, and it was because he did not have a stomach for the sea.
Even looking at waves made him uneasy, their rolling, crushing power, and their ability to drag down and swallow and never give up their victims. He wasn’t a moron, he knew where this deep-seated fear/dislike came from but he’d been getting better, he had been. Steve’s love of the water, his confidence in it, Kono and Chin’s own love and respect for the ocean, their encouragement (see: relentless teasing) had helped him grudgingly attack his fears and make an attempt at controlling them. Hell, he’d even taken up a few surfing lessons with Kono, granted he hadn’t made it past the beach yet, but she was patient and seemed to understand he needed his time. But being on the water was killing him.
When he’d woken up and been subjected to Marcel’s idea of hospitality, been introduced to Dr. Smidt, he’d been moderately seasick but he’d had other more pressing matters to contend with. Once they’d finished their idea of a medical, one which he was very much never going to think of or acknowledge he had been part of again, they’d locked him back in his windowless ‘room’ and he’d figured he’d spend a day or so lying around and his body would acclimatize to the ocean.
Looks like another joke was on him.
He’d barely managed to keep a full meal down a day. They hadn’t wanted to give him meds the first few days, not wanting to interfere with his blood chemistry or something stupid like that. Instead they’d slapped white sea bands on his wrists to attack some mystical acupressure point that apparently made motion sickness tolerable. When it got to the point that he couldn’t keep liquids down and dehydration might become a severe problem they’d gone straight to the heavy duty meds and slapped a scopolamine skin patch behind his ear.
The nausea had eventually eased, allowing him to keep down more liquid and light meals, but his vision had been a bit blurry and he’d slept a solid twenty four hours. When he woke up he’d peeled the patch off and refused to replace it. He’d take the continual breaking of his personal upchuck record any day over losing time. They’d compromised with a tiny white Sturgeron pill, which kept the seasickness to a mild continual nausea that he could handle (after the incapacitating illness of before this was a freaking walk in the park).
Between all this the continual questions about his abilities, the tests, the constant observation, it was driving him crazy and it had only been a week. Needles to say when the water had finally calmed as they began approaching Shanghai he was almost relieved about the reprieve, except that the arrival at the port meant that it was time to meet his ‘client,’ and that was definitely not something he was looking forward to.
“Ready?” The heavily accented voice of the Doctor called for his attention and he looked towards the door of the plush recreational room they had sequestered him in for the morning. Smidt was waiting expectantly, a bag already on the bolted down sleek mahogany table in the room, and Will and Johann loomed in their usual spot by the door, dressed in unusually sharp suits, guarding him.
He’d been sitting on the couch staring at the blank TV screen for the better part of three hours and he had been reveling in their attempts to not appear bored out of their minds. They weren’t bored anymore, now they were alert and watching him, waiting for a moment of rebellion that they could pounce on and tame. Danny frowned.
“We haven’t docked at port yet,” he made no effort to get up from the couch.
“Our appointment will not keep with our docking schedule,” Smidt waved impatiently, gesturing for Danny to get up and cooperate. Danny didn’t move. “This is not the time to be stubborn, Mr. Williams.”
“Detective Williams,” he corrected for the hundredth time. Smidt narrowed his eyes impatiently.
“We have to prepare you for your appointment,” he repeated and Danny turned away from him to glare disinterestedly at the blank TV once again. He heard and then saw as Will and Johan moved to collect him with practiced choreography and he lunged from his chair, managing a decent fist to Will’s gut before his arms were grabbed and secured behind him with the padded cuffs they’d taken to carrying around especially for him. Apparently Marcel didn’t like Danny’s wrists to be decorated in shades of purple. He didn’t struggle after that, not having the energy and knowing that he would probably end up doing Marcel’s bidding at some point today regardless. He had to pick and choose his battles here.
“I don’t know why you make it so difficult for yourself,” Smidt tsked disappointedly as he made quick work of unbuttoning the black shirt Danny had been given to wear that morning. Danny merely glared at him as the man pulled out the wireless electrodes he was such a fan of and quickly pressed their sticky sides onto Danny’s patchy shaved skin. When the sensors were where he wanted them the doctor quickly re-buttoned his shirt and tugged it into place, effectively hiding them while Danny glared over his shoulder. “There, now if we could please?” He gestured towards the still open door and Will, the thug he liked least of the two guards, gave him a little push to get moving.
“I’m going, but you know I might move faster without the restraints,” he grumbled. He expected to head to the stairs that would take them down to the ships deck, but instead they kept moving down the corridor, passed doors to rooms he hadn’t yet been in, until he was pushed out a door and into direct sunlight for the first time in what felt like forever. It pierced right into his brain and he turned his head to the ground and squinted as his eyes adjusted.
“Ah, Mr. Williams, feeling better I hope,” Marcel’s smooth voice mixed with the distant cry of seagulls and the cool wind whipping off the oceans surface. Danny gave him a look that he hoped displayed how stupid he thought the notion was.
“There’s definitely room for improvement,” he jangled the cuffs behind his back pointedly and Marcel’s lips quirked before his features smoothed out and he gave a directive nod to Danny’s guards. A moment later his wrists were released and Danny ran a hand through his hair, sweeping it back into place and looking around, distracted as the distant thumping he had heard was growing louder and louder. Everything was too bright, too sharp, and he realized with trepidation that he was standing on a helicopter landing pad. “We going far?” he asked, doing his best to come across as unconcerned but Marcel’s little knowing smile told him that he wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Ah, Anook, just in time,” Marcel smiled, ignoring his question, and held out his hand as the woman in question joined them on the heli-pad. She handed over a thin black bag and Marcel untied its dainty little strings before pulling out a mask. He looked it over, flipping it in his hand before nodding. “Very nice,” he gave her a nod and she stood taller in satisfaction even as she watched Danny coolly. Marcel flipped it over again, its black surface gleaming in the sun and held it out to Danny, who made no attempt to take it.
“We going to a ball? I didn’t know China was a fan of Mardi Gras,” Marcel sighed at Danny’s apparent lack of appreciation.
“It is to protect your identity. You have rather distinctive characteristics Mr. Williams, I do not wish for our clientele to have a way to identify you in the future.”
“Right, because it’ll be so difficult to find me on your luxury cargo ship if they decided they wanted a piece of the action,” he snapped sarcastically.
“That is not your concern, but I do believe that you are intelligent enough to understand the necessity of keeping your anonymity,” he held the mask out once more. “Wear it, Mr. Williams.” Danny pressed his lips together in anger, breathed deeply through his nose to control the temper he wanted to unleash, snatched the mask from the outstretched fingers and pulled it on. It covered the upper half of his face, sweeping low across his cheeks, fitting perfectly as the elastic pulled tight across the back of his head. He bet he looked like a Phantom of the Opera reject. “The hat as well,” Marcel was staring at him again as Danny snatched the proffered black hat from Anook and glared at it.
“A fedora? Really?”
“We could always shave your head, dye your hair,” Marcel had to raise his voice over the approaching helicopters’ din but still managed to convey a lack of concern either way. At least the approach of the chopper drew his attention so he wasn’t staring at Danny with his stupidly blue eyes. Danny put the black hat on and then held it in place while the chopper landed and he was herded onto it and pressed into the center seat, Will and Johann settling in on both sides. He closed his eyes during the ride, adjusting to the different type of movement and not caring that he was missing out on seeing Shanghai in person for the first time: this was not the way he had wanted to see the city.
One thing he could say was that the helicopter was definitely designed for comfort and easily fit his five-person escort alongside. Upon landing a third guard, gussied up the same way Will and Johann were, joined them on the tarmac from the helicopters front seat. Danny didn’t have any difficulty spotting the telltale bulges of weaponry underneath his black suit. He didn’t have much time to assess him though, as a group of equally well-dressed men approached them from the obscenely tall building’s roof door.
There was a lot of bowing and friendly greetings as the helicopter rotors slowly stopped turning and the pilot disembarked and leaned against its side, already looking bored but alert. The man in charge of the meet and greet smiling politely as he and Marcel exchanged pleasantries and it was all very business like and proper and professional enough that he didn’t once acknowledge anyone in their party but Marcel before leading the way into the building.
Danny stumbled the first few steps, not quite used to the solid ground and Johann gripped his arm tightly to steady him, giving him a warning look as two of the Chinese guards eyed him curiously, gaze lingering on the mask that already made Danny’s face feel overly warm. They were led through a towering hall of glass, sunlight and flowing vertical slate fountains. They didn’t pass a single person who wasn’t a part of their group. At least it was air-conditioned; the humidity outside was worse than Hawai’i before a tropical storm.
“Please,” the spokesperson that matched Danny in height waved them through a door and into a lounge filled with sharp leather chairs and couches, a bar, and more of the water fountains flowing in several key positions around the room. The only wall that wasn’t made of windows looking out upon the city was taken up by a giant silk scroll painting of mountains and trees. It looked very, very old behind its spotless glass covering. “Please, make yourselves comfortable,” he gestured towards the seats before he, Marcel, and Anook disappeared through another wall.
Then a half hour of stony silence commenced as Danny’s three armed guards and the Doctor took up position in seats around him protectively (he was laughing on the inside at the irony, really) while trying to appear nonchalant as they stared down the three armed men of the Chinese faction left in the room with them.
The only time anyone spoke was when Danny asked for a ginger ale, no ice, with a slice of lime, just to see if they would oblige. It barely took sixty seconds before the drink was in hand, the guard who had retrieved it for him taking care not to meet his gaze as he delivered it. After that the only sound in the room was the obnoxious slurping he decided to partake in, which was worth it when he spotted the slight tightening of Will’s fist every time he drank. Danny didn’t mind silence, he could do silence for ages when it suited him, so he wasn’t too thrilled when Marcel and his apparent business associate emerged from their meeting.
“We are ready to proceed,” the excessively polite host announced, finally looking upon Danny, his curiosity and doubt clear for a moment before being hidden once again behind a polite façade. “If you will please follow me, Mr. Jiang is waiting.” Danny thought about making a fuss, but with every eye on the room watching him closely, even if not directly, he recognized a lost cause when he saw one. He clunked the glass on the table, missing the coaster by a good foot, pushed to his feet, feeling every year of his not so significant age, and followed.
Mr. Jiang was older, maybe mid-sixties, and surrounded by family members that looked suspiciously upon them the moment they entered the room. Marcel was unfazed, Smith moved to a side table to pull out some equipment he used to monitor and record the information he wanted from Danny, and Danny was pressed to the side of the bed.
There was some last minute rapid fire exchange between a younger, hard looking man who must have been Jiang’s son, Jiang’s Doctor, and the Host, as Danny had decided to call the man who had greeted them upon arrival. The son did not look impressed, glaring icily between Danny and the Host. He backed down when Jiang, weak but apparently still aware enough to remain in charge, snapped something from his bed before turning his watery eyes on Danny and beckoning for him to begin.
“He has cancer,” the Host paused beside Danny at the foot of the bed, speaking softly but very clearly, his accent barely discernable. “Dr. Yao only discovered it two weeks ago, but this discovery has come too late, conventional treatments will not work, he has been given days to live.” Danny frowned, looking over Jiang as his wife watched him stonily from the other side of the bed. Cancer. Danny took a breath to steady his nerves, and gather his energy, his fingertips already tingling like they always did when around severe illness.
Cancer didn’t seem right.
Behind him Marcel sniffed, a subtle warning to get on with it. Danny had been well versed that morning in all the reasons why he shouldn’t fuck this up.
“Cancer-” he mumbled to himself under his breath, finally moving right beside Jiang, taking in his sickly complexion, seeing the high intelligence watching him from tired, pained eyes. Danny reached out, hesitating when the son stepped forward to protest again, probably spouting off things about false hope and tricks, which is what Danny would have done as well in his place, but another sharp wave from Jiang’s hand silenced him again.
“Go on,” the dying man rasped and then wrapped his fingers around Danny’s outstretched wrist and pulled until Danny’s hand was flat on his fever moistened chest. It was Danny’s turn to flinch, he did not like being touched that way, and Jiang seemed to understand as he let go quickly. Danny swallowed, closed his eyes, and did his thing.
It only took minutes, and when he finally straightened and pulled away, dizzy and once again tired beyond reason, Jiang was already looking a hundred times better. Alfonse’s leukemia was the only cancer Danny had ever healed, it had been bone deep and integrated into the body to the point where rapid, instant recovery was impossible. Danny didn’t know if that was the way it would always be with healing cancer, or if it should be a quick fix like severe burns, broken limbs, or brain trauma. He did know one thing though, as he stepped shakily back from the table to see Jiang already trying to tiredly sit up, clearly feeling better and staring at Danny like he was Buddah’s reincarnation.
“That wasn’t cancer,” he announced softly, stepping further out of the way as Jiang frowned and the ever strong grip he recognized as Johann’s wrapped around his bicep to steady him, fingers digging in.
“It was,” Jiang’s doctor insisted into the suddenly quiet room looking rapidly between Danny and Jiang.
“No,” Danny shook his head to try and clear it, “no it was something else. Something toxic, foreign. Poison?” He wasn’t expecting the ferocity of the son’s temper as soon as the words left his lips.
“You lie!” He snapped sharply, approaching with clear contempt and Danny jerked back, not having the energy to defend himself right now, but the Host was quicker than either of them and Danny’s guards, placing himself between Danny and the son with a fluidity that was not to be messed with. The son instantly backed off, turning to Jiang who was pulling off the medical lines and pushing to his feet, a dark, steely look on his face.
“What do you mean, poison?” Jiang’s voice was stronger now, the tension in the room thick as he stared at Danny trustingly, like he would believe anything Danny said simply because he had healed him. Actually, that was a pretty good reason for trust. Danny wondered if he could use that to get these guys to free him from Marcel.
“I mean poison,” Danny shrugged. “Deadly, but it wasn’t incurable I don’t think, not if it was treated quickly.” Jiang’s doctor paled as his boss’s intense dark eyes turned to stare at him. He bowed his head in submission a moment later and Danny, a little slow admittedly, clued into the implications of what he was saying. To be fair it had been a long week and Danny wasn’t at his best.
“You would believe the words of this lying foreign dog?” the son once again spoke up, fury evident but also the beginning of panic as he looked around the room as though seeking support. Oh buddy, not the brightest ember in the fire.
“I do believe that is our cue to leave,” Marcel spoke calmly and just like that Danny was pulled from the room, closely surrounded by Marcel’s armed goons and marched brusquely back the way they had come.
“Mr. Marcel,” the Host called out only moments from the door that would lead them to the helicopter that Danny could already hear warming up. Marcel stopped and turned to the man, a pleasant smile on his face, which grew more satisfied as he acknowledged that the Host had come after them alone. “Please, Mr. Jiang would like to thank you for your honourable services,” he bowed deeply and Marcel returned it in good form. Danny’s hopes at being aided by these people evaporated as the Host didn’t even spare him a glance, back to formality.
“There is no need for thanks, our transaction has been completed in full. We wish Mr. Jiang a speedy return to full health.” Host looked like he wanted to argue, to insist that they come back so Jiang could thank them more officially, but after a look shared with Marcel he backed off knowingly.
“Then please, allow me to escort you to your flight,” and he did just that.
Danny collapsed into the seat, tired and shaky and not at all enthused about returning to the ship. He ignored the pleased congratulations Marcel gave him for uncovering Jiang’s sons plan on an apparently hostile takeover of the family business, speculating on what future gift Jiang would no doubt bestow on them for the additional, unexpected service.
Danny couldn’t care less. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep, arms crossed over his chest protectively.
He felt the heavy stare of Marcel the entire trip back to the ship, felt it as he was escorted with caution back to his windowless room somewhere in the center of the tower. Felt it even after he was left alone and the lights had shut off, curling up in the bed with his back pressed against the cold wall. He pushed all thoughts and feelings out of his head and thought about the two things that would make this all better: his team, and Grace.
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When Danny woke up an indeterminate amount of time later his skin crawled and he felt sick in a way that had nothing to do with the motion of the ocean. He’d been used; he felt dirty in a way that helping people had never made him feel before. He couldn’t just wait around anymore for someone else to come and rescue him, he couldn’t. When the door finally opened he was ready and the person on the other side was not. He took them out with an upper cut that would make Steve proud and dragged their unresponsive body into his cell in a weak attempt to hide.
He made it up and searched three floors, finally getting the control room in his sights when he was taken down from behind. He didn’t make it easy on them, the rage and helplessness he’d been carrying for over a week was unleashed and he left bruises that wouldn’t fade for some time, but he never made it to the radio. He never got a chance to send out a distress, to tell anyone who was listening that he was there.
Turns out it probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because by that time they’d left Shanghai far enough behind that it was barely a speck on the horizon.
This time when he entered unconsciousness it had more to do with the fact that his head bounced off the wall than the fact that he needed the healing sleep.
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Chapter 9
Masterpost