Jenna tries to dismiss it as paranoia, she really does– she’s CIA, she’s known for a long time that work like that can play tricks on you, make you see threats everywhere. But for all the rambling awkwardness in conversation that can make her seem young and silly sometimes, Jenna is levelheaded and good in a crisis, sharp as a tack and difficult to fool. Someone is tailing her, though why she can’t be sure yet– there are any number of people who probably have it in for a member of Five-0, even a new one.
She doesn’t go to Steve first because she doesn’t want to feel like she’s crawling to him for protection; for much the same reason, she doesn’t tell Kono immediately. Kono is a fighter, not an analyst, and Jenna doesn’t think she knows how to be afraid or let someone else protect her. Chin, she had thought, because she’s gotten to know him during long hours combing over evidence at the computer, but Danny gets to her first, takes one look at Jenna and asks, “Okay, what’s going on?” and that’s all it takes to make her spill.
“Hey, woah,” he murmurs kindly, interrupting her when she starts to babble, “easy, Kaye. You’re Five-0 now, none of us are gonna let anything happen to you, all right?” He squeezes her shoulders in a one-armed hug and she smiles up at him and manages not to let it quaver.
“God, I bet witnesses gush their innermost secrets to you all the time,” she accuses, and Danny grins at her and gets up off her office couch.
“Sometimes,” he says, “but usually Steve would rather dangle them off buildings.”
Steve, in typical Steve fashion, had insisted that the rest of the team serve as Jenna’s protective detail, which would be annoying if it weren’t a relief. She makes a cursory protest that no one really listens to, and Steve informs her, military-stern, that her skills as an analyst are too important to risk. It’s bullshit, they got along fine before she came into the picture, but she appreciates it anyway because she knows it’s his backhanded way of trying to make her feel better. She knows, too, that he’d do the same for any of them, even if she’s the only one he’d dare to handcuff to a car.
Danny takes the first night, because it’s a Friday and he’ll be busy with Grace tomorrow. He drops Steve off at his place first, and Jenna smothers a smile at the way they seem to live in each other’s back pockets and climbs over the console to take the vacated passenger seat. She turns on the radio, flipping through a few stations before settling on one playing the Beatles, and Danny smiles.
“Finally, I get someone in this car with some taste in music.”
“Steve’s is bad?”
“Bad, no, bad taste would imply any taste, okay. He is forbidden from touching the radio, because if I ever have to hear “Sexy Eyes” again in my life I will kill him, I swear to God.”
Jenna giggles and turns up the volume for the rest of the drive back to her place. She has a tiny apartment, fine for one person who’s not home much but sort of close quarters for two, and since she hadn’t really planned for all this it’s in disarray. Jenna’s preferred method of organization is controlled chaos, but to the uninitiated eye it mostly just looks like a mess.
“Sorry,” she apologizes, “not really prepared for company.”
Danny waves her off. “Don’t worry about it, my place is a shithole. Yours is a hotel by comparison, just throw a pillow on the couch for me and I’ll be good.”
“Sure thing. How about I order us a pizza and we see what’s on tv?”
“No pineapple,” Danny says reflexively, and Jenna rolls her eyes.
“Fellow mainlander, here,” she reminds him, digging her phone out of her bag. “Can you do sausage?”
“Sausage I can do,” he agrees, and settles on the couch with the remote while Jenna disappears into her tiny kitchen with the phone against her ear. She returns with two cans of soda and sits down next to him, kicking her shoes off to tuck her feet up under her.
“Anything good on?”
“Friday is where television shows go to die, so not really,” Danny answers, and Jenna hmm’s in response and gets up again to paw through her meagre DVD collection.
“Heist movie night,” she declares, and holds up two cases. “Ocean’s Eleven or Italian Job?”
“Italian Job, and I’ll tell you about the time Steve decided to recreate that scene where they play chicken with a helicopter.”
“I’ve seen how he drives,” she agrees. Jenna pops the disc in the player and returns to the couch while Danny hits play, and she opens her soda.
“To life being crazier than fiction,” she offers, and Danny grins and clinks his can to hers.
“Heard you and Danny had a nice little movie night yesterday,” Chin says when he shows up at Jenna’s place the next day. She’s still only half-awake, dressed in a ragged t-shirt and pajama bottoms, but Chin seems disgustingly alert for eight in the morning on a Saturday. Jenna, however, is not, so she just nods blearily.
Chin smiles at her. “Go back to bed, Jenna,” he says, and she’s not about to argue. Chin settles in on the couch with his smartphone, and Jenna shuffles back to her bedroom to catch a few more hours of sleep. It’s almost lunchtime when she gets up again, but Chin is right where she had left him, tapping away at his touch screen and frowning slightly. She makes herself some coffee and some toast, the caffeine and food perking her up, then goes back to the living room. Chin’s phone is making sounds. Familiar ones.
“Are you playing Angry Birds?”
“The bombs these white ones drop are useless,” Chin grumbles, “they barely do any damage.”
“You need one of the black birds, hm?”
“I like the yellow,” he mutters, “targeted attack.” He huffs out an annoyed breath. “Damn pigs.”
Jenna smiles over the edge of her coffee cup. “How often are you playing Angry Birds when the rest of the team thinks you’re working?”
Chin’s lips quirk. “Sometimes I’m playing solitaire,” he deadpans, and Jenna laughs and peers over his shoulder, watching him play. Having Chin around is peaceful, familiar; Jenna is used to his calm presence at her side over the tech table at work, quiet but companionable. After a while she gets her laptop out to catch up on some things, and they fall into an easy silence.
“Do you want to go out at all today?” Chin asks when Jenna has wrapped up her paperwork, and she shrugs.
“And go where? You guys are pretty much the closest thing I have to a social life out here. And, wow, that came out sounding way more pathetic than I meant it to, but I haven’t been here that long, is all.”
Chin regards her for a moment, then smiles. “Go change into jeans and sneakers. I took my bike over, we can go for a ride.”
“That thing is a deathtrap, have you seen the statistics?” Jenna protests, but she’s thinking about it. It does look fun.
“You think I’d let anything happen to you, ipo?” Chin rejoins lightly. “I’ve been riding for years, and you can borrow my helmet.”
“I could use some air,” she allows, getting to her feet and heading to her room to change. Chin is waiting by the door when she’s done, and they head out to the parking lot together. Chin hands her a helmet and settles on the bike, and Jenna slides on carefully behind him.
“Hold on to me,” he murmurs, faint amusement in his voice, and Jenna wraps her arms around his middle while he starts the bike. The engine rumbles, vibrating under them, and Chin takes them out to empty back roads to break the speed limits, warm wind rushing past. Jenna can see why he loves this, the freedom of it, the Hawaiian scenery passing in a blur of green and blue. Laughter bubbles up out of her, and right then the following and the stress don’t matter; all of it is gone, temporarily forgotten.
Trust Chin to make her feel better without saying anything at all.
On Sunday, Jenna is startled awake by someone shaking her, and she jolts upright to find Kono standing at the edge of the bed.
“C’mon, get up. Nothing’s wrong,” she adds before Jenna has a chance to panic, “but I’ve got plans for you.”
“Plans,” Jenna echoes uncertainly, and Kono nods decisively.
“Plans,” she agrees. “Eat some breakfast and dress in something comfortable to move in.”
Kono’s plans, it turns out, are to take Jenna to the gym and beat the crap out of her in the name of teaching Jenna self-defense. Jenna has never been a very physical person; she doesn’t trust in her body’s abilities the way Kono does, so learning to dodge blows and throw punches doesn’t come naturally. She’s better with a gun; Steve had started teaching her to shoot when she joined Five-0, but this is different, sweaty and split-second and rough.
“Have a break,” Kono finally says, tossing Jenna a water bottle which she cracks open gratefully. Her whole body feels sore, and Jenna is quietly stewing in frustration. Kono makes it look so easy.
“Hey,” Kono says, sitting down on the mat next to Jenna, “it’s your first time, you’re doing good.”
“You’re kicking my ass,” Jenna replies bluntly, and Kono looks amused.
“Yeah,” she agrees, “but I’m a cop, and before that I was a professional athlete, and it’s your first time really doing this stuff. Boss would probably bench me if I weren’t kicking your ass.”
“Well,” Jenna says, then nothing more because okay, fine, it’s a fair point. At least Kono looks like she’s had a workout, too, even if Jenna is the one who’ll have bruises. Kono smiles at her.
“I’ll buy dinner,” she offers, “least I could do after this.”
“You’re on,” Jenna agrees, levering herself to her feet. “I need a shower. And probably an icepack.”
“Poor baby,” Kono coos with a grin. “Come on.”
It’s late, and Jenna and Kono are sprawled on Jenna’s narrow bed with a deck of cards and some junk food, playing poker for Skittles, when the sound of a gunshot splits the night air. They both drop, Jenna scrambling for the handgun she now keeps in her dresser and Kono pulling hers from the holster at her hip.
“Stay out of sight and call for backup,” Kono mutters, “I’m gonna see what’s going on. Don’t get shot.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Jenna hisses back, but she obediently slinks back to the corner next to the window and glances at it. If she has to jump, the fall shouldn’t kill her. Kono disappears, and Jenna is left alone with her racing breaths and thudding heart, listening for any other sound.
The wait isn’t long, but it feels endless, stretching out with each nervous breath until there is the sound of footsteps approaching. Jenna tightens her grip on her gun, but it’s Steve who comes through the door, Kono behind him.
“This idiot,” Kono says, hooking a thumb in Steve’s direction, “decided to take out the guy tailing you without giving anyone a heads-up.”
Steve frowns. “Not true. Danno knew I was coming.” He holsters his gun and sits down at the foot of Jenna’s bed. “Thanks for calling HPD, though.”
“Who was after me?” Jenna asks, and Steve frowns.
“Yakuza. Getting rid of Wo Fat doesn’t mean they’re all gone.”
“Oh,” she says faintly, “great. So we still have the Japanese mob after us, this is what you’re telling me.”
Steve thumps her companionably on the shoulder. “Welcome to Five-0, Jenna.”