Danny Williams moves to Hawaii, joins HPD, and gets partnered up with one John McGarrett, a Detective Sergeant who’s increasingly looking forward to his retirement. And that’s great, Danny loves that; he’s perfectly fine being the junior partner of a team-up, and someone with McGarrett’s time on the force should be a) experienced enough to teach Danny a thing or two and b) relaxed (but professional!) enough to be fun to work with, right?
John McGarrett, it turns out, is a maniac. Things John McGarrett has: a comfortable amount of life savings, a house that’s paid off, and a long-lasting friendship with the Governor. Things John McGarrett has not: chill, restraint, or any fucks to give.
The man served in Vietnam and treats police procedure like it’s more of an adorably quaint guideline than The Rules. He drags Danny into investigating decades-old cold cases and the freaking yakuza and their fellow police officers. He does this with a tenacity and laser focus that’s as admirable as it is terrifying. He gets Danny into shoot-outs. He gets them into high-speed car chases in the middle of fucking nowhere, fishtailing through sugar cane fields and telling Danny to stop yelling, damn it, they’re gonna be fine. Danny shows up one morning to find him tied to a chair and with a gun to his head, and it’s only Danny’s reflexes that keep McGarrett’s brain from going splat on the wall.
Seriously. International terrorists before his second cup of coffee. This is Danny’s life now.
They’re having their weekly beat-the-odds-yet-again-yay barbecue at the back of John’s house when John’s son shows up, looking tired and unfairly hot in his ugly fatigues. He’s a little stiff but friendly and John kind of softens around him, so Danny allows himself the faint hope that hey, if that guy spends his leave here, maybe the next few weeks won’t be a near-death experience a day.
Then the guy informs John that he just accepted a job running the Governor’s new task force so he’s gonna stick around for a while, and oh yeah he’s got full immunity and means, wanna help clean up the island? And they grin at each other, sharp and expectant and completely unhinged, and Danny throws himself back in his chair and groans because, oh god.
(They rope him into their task force. He now has two near-death experiences a day. Three if you count sex with Steve.
His life is pretty fucking great.)
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