kristen999 | When the Ocean Meets the Shore (3/3)

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Terror was watching your baby girl slip and fall and hit her head. Grace had been unconscious for the longest five minutes of Danny's life. Nothing had ever come close to that type of fear. Not armed assailants or the possibility of being blown up by a bomb.

Tonight was a close second. He rode along in the ambulance with Steve utterly still while the paramedic rattled off vitals to the dispatcher. They burst into the ER into a swarm of hands and yelling voices. A nurse had to guide him into the waiting room filled with crying children and drunks.

Cold coffee lurched inside his empty stomach as he zoned out to the white noise of all the crises around him. He saw the shadow before he heard the footsteps and looked up at a slightly rumpled Kono dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

“Hey,” Danny greeted. “What time is it?”

“Three thirty,” she sighed. “And that's in the morning.” Kono sat next to him. “Chin called me after you arrived at the hospital. I took a quick a shower and dropped by your place. Grabbed you some clothes.”

Danny gratefully took the plastic bag. “Thanks.”

“Have you heard anything?”

“Nuthin'. Not a damn thing in over two hours. Even used my badge.”

“What happened?”

“I don't know.” Danny stood and waved his hand at the nurse's station. “And no one here has found fit to tell me anything!” he yelled loud enough for all to hear. Kono grimaced. “Sorry,” he apologized.

“Maybe I can get some answers. Try honey instead of vinegar.”

“That won't be necessary,” a voice coughed.

Danny whirled on the physician in front of him. “Finally.”

“Detective Williams, let's have a seat.”

“I'll stand.” Danny scanned the nametag. “Dr. Okole, what's wrong with my partner.”

Okole wasn’t more than five two with curly salt and peppered hair and a sun weathered face. “Commander McGarrett has a high fever from an infection in his arm.”

“This is because McGarrett wasn’t taking his antibiotics, isn't it? I swear to God, when he wakes up, I'm gonna clock him.”

“The commander hasn't been taking his antibiotics?”

“No. I mean, I don't know.” Danny took a steadying breath. “I'm guessing that's why he's sick?”

Okole removed his glasses and wiped them with a cloth before slipping them back on. “It could be a contributing factor.”

“Wait,” Kono said. “A contributing factor?”

“A wound infection is not an uncommon occurrence if it's not properly taken care of, or if you miss too many doses of medication. In this case, the infection started because a foreign object was still embedded deep inside the commander’s bicep. It kept the wound from healing and created a breeding ground for bacteria.”

Danny couldn’t believe his ears. “What foreign object?”

“A tooth.”

“A...” Danny resisted the urge to punch something. “A tooth. Are you kidding me?”

“Well, part of a molar,” Okole clarified. “I admit I wasn't exactly sure how one got caught in the wound tract until I read the commander's medical file. He was involved in a drive-by shooting?”

“The suspect was shot in the head. Steve had bone fragments pulled out of his arm.”

“Even with an x-ray, the piece was easy to miss.”

“What now?” Kono asked. “He's going to be fine, right? He just needs antibiotics?”

“He arrived with a fever of a 104.8,” Okole explained with a frown. “We're trying to bring it down.”

“And?” Danny hissed, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Because there's always an and or a but.”

“We have to worry about the infection spreading to his blood stream.”

“Wait a minute. Are you saying that this...this fucking tooth could--”

“I'm not saying anything, Detective. The molar can be problematic. It's organic and carries bacteria, but we've caught it in time and we’re treating the commander with an aggressive regimen of antibiotics.”

His brain reeled with the news.

“He has a sister,” Danny breathed, panic setting in. “She's in LA...do I...do I need to--”

“We’re not there yet,” Okole reassured him. “The commander’s in excellent health. Everything we’re doing is to prevent the infection from spreading.”

“Okay...alright.” Danny swallowed, suddenly needing a wall to lean against.

“Can we go in and see him?” Kono asked.

“We have him settled in now. You can both go in for a few minutes.”

---------

Kono went toward the bed and stopped. Danny wrapped an arm around her shoulders for comfort and strength.

A nurse placed ice packs under Steve's armpits and looked up. “I know it seems strange, but one of the best things for bringing a fever down is ice packs.”

“Of course,” Kono acknowledged.

“I have to keep rotating them around the core parts of the commander's body. I'll be back in twenty minutes, alright?”

The nurse left and it was just the three of them.

Danny stood over the bed, rested his hands on the steel rail, unsure of what to do. His partner was somewhere beneath a snarl of wires and tubes. An IV dripped in fluids, a BP cuff and pulse-ox clip monitored vitals. A thin sheet covered Steve's lower half, allowing his body to release the heat raging inside it.

A fresh bandage wrapped around Steve's bicep, and the skin was swollen and inflamed around it.

“You idiot,” Danny whispered. “You can perform surgery on a teammate, but didn’t notice your arm roasting?”

A hand touched his shoulder. “He's going to be fine. The boss's a warrior.”

“He better be,” Danny growled. “You hear that, McGarrett? Don't you dare let some stupid infection kick your ass. I will never. Ever. Let you live it down. Got it?”

Water slapped at Steve's toes, warm and tingly against his skin.

“Hey, Stevie. What are you doin?”

“Waiting.”

“Yeah? For what?”

“The right time.”

His father stood next to him and scanned the horizon. “Timing's everything. Especially with the water. It's to be respected.”

“Yes, sir.”

“These very waves have carried salt from the shores of Africa to the beaches of Japan. It was here millions of years before we ever walked or breathed, and it'll go around the world a thousand times more after we've left this Earth.”

The sun sizzled and baked his skin, zapping all desire to move. To think. All he wanted to do was melt into the beach, and the mist ghosted over his face.

----------

“Do you see this, Steven? Of course not, because you're letting that thing you call a brain slowly roast inside your skull. I am wiping your brow with a wet sponge, and you, Steve, are not my wife or my child. But here I am, dipping and soaking your head with water.”

Steve wanted to smirk in amusement, but he was stuck, caught inside the sun's rays even if the surf was only a few feet away.

---------

“That's some nice ink there, Jay Gee.”

Steve pulled up his sleeve, revealing the rest of the Geiger tattoo. “Thanks. Just got it done. It needs some touching up. Since we'll be in port soon, thought I’d get it finished there.”

“Screw Tokyo. I've got a guy in Osaka. Doesn't deal with tourists. His Kebori is off the hook.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve leaned back in his bunk. They wouldn't be topside for another three days. After hitching a ride on a boomer, they'd conducted close quarters drills and wouldn't stop until they surfaced.

“Ever thought about serving on a boat before?”

Marcus pulled out a deck of cards and shuffled them.” Never. Sea, air and land, sir.”

The walls of the sub melted into steam and vapor. Steve tried finding his way through walls of flies and buzzing mosquitoes.

“Jackson?” Steve called out, swatting at the insects.

“Did you get the message I left for you, sir?”

He pulled out his machete, hacking at the foliage. “What message? Jackson?”

Leaves and vines slapped his face as Steve ran his way through the jungle.

“Damn it! Where are you?”

----------

He had to be somewhere. Find someone.

Steve jogged across the parking lot. Heat simmered off the asphalt and burned through the soles of his shoes. Panting, he rested his hands on his knees, scanning all the vehicles, taking in red, blue, and green hunks of metal.

He spotted his father's car. Saw his mother climb inside.

He ran screaming, but the car burst into flames.

“No!”

Steve bolted awake.

“Hey, McGarrett, it's okay.”

Steve sagged against the bed, his eyes slowly drifted to Chin's.

“You with me, brah?”

His throat felt like sandpaper. “Yeah,” he rasped. Steve wiped his tongue across cracked lips. He felt the pinch of tubes, then saw all the wires. “Why m' I here?”

Chin told him about the fever and the piece of tooth that'd been pulled out of him. Steve only remembered bits and pieces, like sand slipping through his fingers.

“How long?”

“You were brought in two nights ago.”

“Two nights?”

He tried sitting up but the world whited out in pain and dizziness.

“Hey, take it easy.” Chin gently laid a hand on Steve's chest. “You've kept sepsis at bay and fought back a bad fever.”

“I've lost too much time.”

But his batteries were depleted. His left arm was a throbbing mess despite the drugs being pumped into him.

Chin's face went from worried to determined. “Brah, you’re a strategist. Time to reevaluate the playing field and regroup.”

An injured teammate should never endanger the mission. Or his team.

Five minutes after breaking the surface of the living, Steve was being dragged back into the depths.

He battled the claws of exhaustion and the drain of fevered skin. He retreated. It was the tactical thing to do. Allow his body to recharge.

Something nagged at him. Itched under his skin.

“Did you get the message I left for you, sir?”

“The notebook. Chin, there's a notebook... at my house.” Steve struggled with his words, his body fading fast. “In the living room...” He grabbed Chin's arm in a last ditch effort. “Please...”

“I'll find it,” Chin answered. He took Steve's wrist and squeezed it. “I'll bring it here.”

Steve was too spent and his fingers lost their grip on Chin's arm. “You've got to...”

“I'll drive over there right now. I'm on it.”

Good. He wanted to thank him, but Steve finally succumbed to the unforgiving pull of darkness.

---------

He wanted to shed out of his skin like a snake, rid himself of the feel of sweat and illness. It took far too long to become fully awake. The curtain and ceiling were awash in a fuzz of light. He must of groaned because the blob in the chair next to his bed stirred.

“You awake, boss?”

“Kind of.” He rubbed the grit out of his eyes, forced the room in focus. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not sure,” Kono answered. “Seven or eight hours since the last time. Chin wanted you to make sure you got this.” She placed a notebook on the table next to his bed. “There were several sheets ripped out. But I couldn't read them.”

Steve took the withered sheets, glanced at the blotchy writing. “It's Korean.”

She quirked in eyebrow. “You you can speak Mandarin, Japanese, and Korean?”

“No,” he breathed. “Marcus was fluent. I know enough to get by.” Steve stared at the familiar scrawl. “These look like notes on financial records. Not sure.”

His eyes were heavy and he blinked back the need to sleep. “Where are we on the case?”

“Um...”

“Kono?”

“I was sworn not to talk about the investigation with you. Letting you have the notebook was a compromise.”

“Letting me?”

Steve fumbled for the controls beside him and elevated the bed until he was sitting up.

“There was this discussion about rules and regulations when it came to um...” Kono's cheeks flushed pink. She cleared her throat. “It was determined you weren't fit for command and--”

“And nothing,” Steve growled. “5-0 answers to me and I answer to the Governor. That's it. There are no votes on the matter.”

“Look at that,” Kono said with a glance at her watch. “Jenna should be here any minute so we can drive over and relieve Danny and Chin during the stakeout.”

“Where have we gotten with that?”

“I'm not at liberty to say.”

“I'm ordering you to brief me on this case.”

Instead of backing down, Kono squared her shoulders. “Technically, you're on sick leave and therefore in no position of authority.”

Kono had that look. The one that said she wouldn't back down.

Steve surveyed his room. One exit. No windows.

Kono settled into her chair. “There's always going to be one of us here until you’re released. Danny said something about not caring how many prisons you've escaped from.”

“He threatened me with cuffs, didn't he?”

Kono pulled out a magazine and started flipping through it.

The super high-tech spy equipment was pretty cool if Danny admitted it to himself. The LCD screen displayed details far superior to a normal lens. “We've got a vehicle pulling up to the warehouse. Small semi truck. Three Caucasian male subjects.”

“Same as yesterday,” Chin observed. “Can you get a visual on the plates?”

“No,” Danny sighed. “It's parked at an odd angle.”

Chin pushed back the blinds, peered through his binoculars and shook his head. He walked over to the nightstand and sifted through the takeout menus. “You hungry? We still have two hours left.”

“Yeah, but no more Chinese.”

“Pizza?”

“As long as it has motz and pepperoni, it’s cool.”

Chin ordered dinner and took his spot by the window. “You heard anything from the hospital?”

“Kono dropped off the notebook Steve was so agitated to get. It was written in Korean. Steve's called Jenna to see if she can help him decipher it. He thinks they might be bank records.” Danny let out a frustrated breath. “I rifled through that box, and that notebook was nothing but blank pages.”

“On the contrary; Jackson used invisible ink.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Invisible ink?”

His life had become a horrible spy movie.

“I'm not joking,” Chin chuckled. “You can mix baking soda and water together. Inject the liquid into one of those old-fashioned pens and presto. Invisible ink. Then you soak the sheets in grape juice to read what it says.”

“Steve mumbled about grape juice a few times when he was out of it. I thought he was having some odd thirst craving.”

“McGarrett said a lot of strange things there for a while.”

“Yeah, don't remind me,” Danny grumbled, trying to erase the images of his partner caught in the throes of fever.

Steve was a lot of things. Insane. Brave to the point of stupidity. A complete pain in the ass. But he was a vibrant, headstrong, always full of life pain in the ass. To have seen him so frail and ill was….

Danny's temper flared. Steve survived being a SEAL and almost died because of a drug dealing scumbag. “I can't wait to nail these SOBs.”

“You okay?” Chin asked.

“Yeah, I'm fine.”

Danny focused the lens at the truck waiting at the stop sign. It was the same make and model of the previous ones, and he used the streetlights to zoom in on the plates. “Bingo,” he said snapping three pics.

Grabbing a pen and paper, he jotted down the letters and numbers and snagged his laptop. “I've got a plate to run,” he crowed in triumph.

Punching it in, he sat back against the creaky chair and waited on the results. “I spoke to Jackson's physician today.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you know he prescribed Jackson three different painkillers?”

“Pharmaceuticals are helpful in the right dose and while under constant supervision,” Chin reminded him. “He might not have been made aware of Jackson's previous troubles.”

“I'm aware of this, but the guy was his doc. He practically threw the medicine cabinet at Jackson. When I questioned him on if he thought it was too much, do you know what he said to me?”

“What?”

“’The man was a hero’.” Danny threw his hands up in the air. “That's an excuse to over prescribe narcotics?”

Chin grabbed his water bottle and sipped it in thought. “Do you think Jackson fell off the wagon?”

“No. The bottles in his cabinet were nearly full. The dates on them were from last week.”

“Then we'll make sure his name is cleared,” Chin announced.

A knock came from the door. Danny ambled over and checked the peephole. “Pizza's here.”

Chin fished out his wallet and Danny opened the door to the aroma of a piping hot pie. “Dude, I'm starving. Hold on a sec.”

The pizza guy crinkled his nose at the room. “Um....where do you want it?”

“I've got it,” Danny said, taking the box.

With Danny’s hands full of hot cardboard, the delivery guy pulled out a gun. “Take four steps back inside the room.”

Chin reached for his weapon, but two more guys jammed inside and slammed the door closed. Both aimed .45s at him.

“Everyone remain calm,” one of the thugs said. “Put your hands in the air, gentlemen.”

Chin obeyed, eyes darting around. They were caught dead-bang. Danny sighed, dropping the pizza onto the table. He nodded at Chin, and they put their arms above their heads.

“Disarm them,” Thug Number Two told the pizza guy.

Pizza Guy was in his late twenties with short, cropped hair and wore what had to be a stolen red-and-black delivery uniform. He reeked of nerves and the desire to prove himself. He took Danny's and Chin's guns and even found the backups at their ankles. “Clear,” he told his people.

“Now what?” Danny demanded. “Because right now, you've only crossed over the line of stupid. You still have a ways to reach moronic.”

There was a rapt at the door and their would-be kidnappers allowed Martin Sabo and Paulo Walaka of Singer Industries inside.

Danny recognized the Hawaiian CEO from his dossier. “Wow, looks like a party.”

Walaka stepped forward, still dressed for the boardroom. “This doesn't have to be complicated. Just get McGarrett on the phone and we can make a deal.”

“A deal?” Chin spoke, giving Danny time to think. “What's this about?”

“We want the ISP address that Jackson used to store the data he stole.”

“What ISP address?”

Walaka glared at Chin, smoothing out his business suit. “The one he used to transfer some very important account numbers. McGarrett found Jackson’s notebook, although we didn't know anything had been written in it.”

“How the hell do you know about the notebook? We just found out about it!” Danny demanded.

“Funny how surveillance equipment can be used both ways,” Sabo gloated. He puffed out his large chest; a gold chain peeked out from his unbuttoned shirt. “When Lanny and his boys cleared the room after dealing with Jackson, they found his little toys. Awesome long-range listening devices. We heard that McGarrett has the file we need from you guys yappin'.”

Danny wanted to wipe away the slime oozing from Sabo's smile and hose him down. The man reeked of cologne. “It was your boy who killed Jackson?”

“Yeah.”

“Will you shut up?” Walaka snapped. “If it wasn’t for that idiot's incompetence, we wouldn't be in this mess.”

“He got the job done, didn't he?”

“By using pure grade heroin because he thought it'd kill faster. Yeah. High IQ there, brah. Not to mention his incompetence at finding the files at Jackson’s apartment or selling the drugs he was supposed to plant there for a slam dunk case.”

Sabo shrugged. “He wasn't the sharpest tool in the set, but I took care of my loose ends, didn't I?”

Too many cooks in the kitchen. Danny could use this to his advantage. Walaka finished arguing and turned his attention toward Danny. “Now, how about ringing your boss for us?”

“That might be kind of difficult since he'd not answering his cell at this time.”

“You think this is a game?” Sabo snarled. “I could put a bullet through your partner here and dump his body outside 5-0's headquarters with a handwritten message.”

“I'm not a fan of the dramatic, but McGarrett's not here. Being a SEAL and all, he's required to return to base to practice killing people with safety pins and paper clips. He's incommunicado for the next couple of days.”

Danny caught Chin's eyes, the two of them communicating silently. No matter what went down, book or not, these guys were going to kill them. It was obvious they weren’t aware that Steve was in the hospital, and no way in hell was Danny going to let these assholes know so they could go in and kill him while he was vulnerable.

Screw that.

Of course, it was that very moment that Danny’s cell went off, causing every weapon in the room to spin in his direction.

“It's my phone. I'll turn it off.”

Sabo snagged the cell from Danny's holster. “Hey, ever heard of personal space?”

“Well, lookie here,” Sabo grinned flashing the display for Danny to see.

Fuck. Steve. Of all the times to be calling.

Hitting speakerphone, Sabo answered on the fourth ring. “Is this McGarrett?”

“Yeah. Who's this?”

“That doesn't matter. What matters is that I've got your two guys here, and if you want to see them again, then I suggest you do what we say.”

“I'm listening.”

“We want Jackson’s notebook. The one with the codes and instructions for retrieving our missing data. Bring the book and we'll bring your teammates,” Sabo ordered.

“That's going to take some time. What if--”

“No. I'm calling back in ten minutes with a location, and you're coming alone. If we see a single cop or member of SWAT, your buddies are dead. Believe me, McGarrett. Where we're meeting, I'll be able to see for miles.”

He hung up and studied Chin and Danny while Walaka immediately pulled out his cell, barking orders.

“We're going on a little trip,” Sabo said.

The assholes used Danny's and Chin's own cuffs on them, locking the bracelets tightly. They were forced outside and shoved inside the back of an awaiting van. Danny landed awkwardly on his knees, and Chin fell in the same manner.

There was no telling if the van was bugged too, and Danny leaned over awkwardly near Chin's ear. “McGarrett's got to be calling SWAT because there's no other choice. The last I saw him, he couldn't even string a full sentence together.”

Chin shook his head. “We're family. The rules don't apply to ohana, brah.”

That's exactly want Danny didn't want to hear.

Steve stared at the phone next to his bed.

“What happened?” Kono asked, even though the answer was written plainly on her face. “Chin and Danny?”

“They've been kidnapped,” he answered, setting his cell back on the bed table. All he wanted was an update and now...

“Kono, you ready to go?” Jenna bounded in and quickly read the tension in the room. “What's going on?”

“Should I call SWAT?” Kono asked, pulling out her cell.

“No,” Steve answered. He pushed back the sheets and glanced down at his gown. “I need clothes.”

Jenna stared at him wide-eyed. “You what?”

“Boss, you're not in any--”

Steve cut Kono off with a look. “We don't have time to gather SWAT. They want me to deliver the notebook.” He carefully yanked his IV out and got rid of the pulse ox clip. “Kono, can you get someone in here to remove my other tube? I prefer not doing that myself.”

Her eyes drifted from the blood from his IV site to his state of undress.

“Kono. I need a nurse now,” he said breaking her hesitancy. “We have less than ten minutes before I'm given a location.” Kono looked up at him and Steve met her gaze. “I need your help and focus. Do you trust me?”

Her eyes spoke volumes. “I'm on it.”

Steve glanced up a Jenna. “Do you think you could go down to the gift shop and grab me something to wear?”

“T-shirt, black. Cargo pants or jeans, size 34. Got it.”

Jenna left like the wind, leaving Steve staring at her in disbelief. He flicked his bare wrist. Hopefully his things were stored away somewhere. He needed his watch. His gun. A few dozen other items.

His mind went into overdrive, formalizing the best tactics when going into an op undermanned and overwhelmed. He glanced at Jackson’s notebook, reliving the scent of sickly sweet flowers, the scar under his collarbone aching again.

“Commander McGarrett, we cannot release you,” a little old doctor grumbled as Kono practically dragged him into the room.

Kono waited out of the way while the physician continued his lecture. ”You're still running a low grade fever and--”

“I'll leave against medical advice,” Steve interrupted.

“I can't allow you to--”

“I know the risks. Either help me or get out of the way.”

The tiny physician may have needed a box to stand on, but he made up for his height with a booming voice. “Alright, but as soon as you finish whatever you have to, I want you make back in this hospital. Got it, sailor?”

“Aye, aye,” Steve answered out of instinct.

He stared at the doc and the physician snorted. “I was a corpsman back in the day. I'll have a nurse remove your Foley, but you need to be on a constant flow of antibiotics. I'll get you a booster.”

Steve obeyed, and he had all of his tubes and wires removed, and a shot in the ass to keep him going, in time for Jenna’s return.

“Here are some clothes.” She handed him a shopping bag. “Um, sorry. No boxers. And all they had was these.” She lifted a gaudy Hawaiian print shirt and a pair of boardshorts. “I found your boots in the closet, but they must have secured your weapon or Danny took it.”

His cell rang on the bed table. “McGarrett.”

“Ka'ena Point State Park. It's closed for an annual clean up. On the south side is a paved road. Drive your vehicle until the road dead ends, then get out on foot and walk a half mile. We'll be waiting. You have one hour to reach us, or they're dead.”

The call ended.

Steve's bare feet touched the cold tile and he clung to the railing while his legs buckled. He sucked in several breaths, waiting out the dizziness. “Kono, do you think you could…”

“Got you covered.”

She didn't argue or scold. She helped him change, keeping him steady as he slipped into his whatevers. Jenna assisted with the shirt since his left arm wouldn't work quite right. He ditched the sling.

“What's the plan?” Kono asked, quickly tying his laces.

Half their team was being held captive, and the other half trusted him to get them back even when he wasn't up to snuff, no questions asked. Neither Kono nor Jenna was trained for this, but they were sure as hell up for the task.

“There's power in numbers. We'll use that,” Steve assured them.

Jenna and Kono blinked at him in confusion.

“I'll fill you in on the drive, but we have to stop by HQ. We need some gear from Marcus's storage unit.

----------

Ka'ena was the westernmost tip of O'ahu. Walking in from the north side was the best option, but he'd been instructed to come in from the south, passing the beach and forcing him onto the unpaved road that was washed out. Cliffs of basalt lined the path. There was nowhere for a vehicle to follow him.

It was perfect. The bad guys would spot a SWAT team or choppers coming in from miles away. It forced Steve to go in alone without backup.

Except that wasn't true.

“Testing one, two,” he spoke into his earwig.

“Gotcha, boss,” Kono answered.

“Copy that,” Jenna responded.

His vest felt heavy. His fresh t-shirt and cargo pants already stuck to his skin. A slight trickle of rain mixed with the sweat on his face. Kono had dropped him off at the edge of the road and he'd been walking for ten minutes. His stamina was nothing but adrenaline fumes and pure determination.

He used the steady pulse of pain in his arm as a guide and forced his feet one in front of the other along the sharp bend in the path and up a steady incline. His SEAL team would have kicked his ass if they'd seen him struggle this hard to walk half a mile.

Mind over body. Never quit.

Chin and Danny were more than his team. As much as he wanted redemption for Marcus, he'd give it all up for their safe return. Even trade himself for them.

He marched forward, step after painful step. In the middle of nowhere, under a sky of rain and gray, everything he’d missed hit him-- minutes, hours, weeks, months.

So much lost time. With his mother. His father. Mary.

He'd returned home to find justice and had joined 5-0 for all the other survivors out there. While he'd continue to carry the flag for those who no longer could, Steve had found friends and family with him in the here and now who could still feel the sunshine and rain. Whose hearts still beat.

He wiped at his brow and focused on the terrain, studying the blind spots and angles of view.

He rounded a giant slab of rock and found a dozen heavily armed men waiting for him twenty meters ahead.

“Stop. That's far enough!” one of them shouted. It was Walaka. Mr. Two-Thousand-Dollar Suit still in a tie and platinum cufflinks. “Do you have the notebook?”

Sabo stood behind him, surrounded by four of his crew. He was the dangerous one.

Together, they were white and blue-collar partners in crime.

“I have what you want,” Steve shouted. “Where are Chin and Danny?”

Several thugs opened the back door of a van and forced his friends out at gunpoint.

Three men covered Danny and Chin; Walaka had two guards, and Sabo his four thugs. Everyone was armed with automatic weapons.

“I've got eleven targets,” Steve whispered.

“Copy,” both Jenna and Kono answered.

“Get into position. Wait on my signal,” Steve told them.

Walaka moved closer, his security detail flanking him.

Sabo remained behind his crew, guys a little more rough around the edges. Trained on the streets.

“Hand over the notebook, McGarrett,” Walaka demanded.

“Let me guess. Your company laundered all of Sabo's business. Earned a nice kickback. And what else? Or is Sabo just a pawn?” Steve taunted.

Sabo snorted like a bull through his nostrils. “I'm no one's pawn.”

“Really? Is that why you answer to him?” Steve gestured at Walaka, stalling for time.

“I don't answer to anyone,” Sabo snarled. “He provides an easy way to transport my product. It's a mutual arrangement.”

Walaka had island connections and government contracts for Navy parts. It was an easy way to smuggle drugs across the state.

“Hand over the notebook or I'll put a bullet in one of your guys.” Sabo threatened, face reddening in anger. “Maybe in the gut.”

A thug pointed his weapon at Chin's belt line.

“Now,” Steve whispered.

Red laser lights pinged the goons that held Chin and Danny hostage right in the chest.

“What the fuck!” Walaka exclaimed.

Lasers tagged him and Sabo in the chest as well.

Sabo's goons aimed their guns erratically in the dark while Walaka's men froze like rabbits caught in headlights. Time stood still as death nails painted five main targets.

Chin and Danny remained cool, never moving an inch.

“I didn't hear any choppers,” Walaka growled, but the front of his pants was wet.

“Do you really think you'd hear them?” Steve challenged. “We had stealth ones when we took out bin Laden.”

Walaka looked ready to bolt. His hired help sweated bullets.

“You don't have that type of pull,” Sabo argued, trying to gain control.

“I don't need any,” Steve boasted. “I had volunteers waiting in line.”

Sabo shook his meaty head. “We didn’t see any--”

“What makes you think that any of you could spot a SEAL, asshole? You killed one of our own. Did you think that'd go unpunished?”

Steve was still outgunned, but the enemy was flustered.

Time to apply the pressure.

“We're in Hawaii. How hard do you think it was to pull a team together?” Steve challenged. “And out here, if something goes down, no one will question the body count.”

He gestured at the bad guys. “I suggest getting on your knees.”

No one moved.

“Martin,” Walaka hissed.

“Shut up! Don'tcha think if they had the shots, we’d all be dead by now?”

Sabo pulled out a .45. “You don’t look so good, McGarrett.”

Steve's legs shook under his weight, the night concealing the tremors. “Go ahead and shoot me. It'll be the last thing you do.”

“But I'll take you with me.”

“Want to bet one of my guys won't cut you down first? A bullet through the brain stem paralyzes all muscle control. I've taken that shot myself at two miles out. My team's less than one.”

The goons guarding Walaka took off at a run, leaving their boss unprotected.
Walaka stared at the red beam of light over his heart and went to his knees.

“Coward,” Sabo snarled. “You’ve never had the stomach for this business. I'm callin' McGarrett's bluff.” He turned to the flunkies covering Chin and Danny. “Kill them.”

The three thugs looked at each other. A guy with dreads glanced at the laser and back up at his boss. “No way, man.” He tossed his weapon, and the others did the same.

They went from eleven armed enemies to five.

Sabo stared at the laser on his chest to the three lasers hanging in the air where those guarding Chin and Danny had been. His eyes widened. His goons caught onto the charade three seconds later.

“Now, Kono!” Steve ordered, pulling out his Sig.

Times of life and death really did play out like flashes in a movie.

One of Sabo's goons went down from the crack of Kono's rifle. The other three flopped onto the ground in terror when the air filled with automatic fire.
Sabo stood his ground and shot several rounds at Steve.

Steve rolled to his side and came back up, squeezing the trigger.

Danny and Chin took advantage of the chaos and snagged their guards' guns, covering them.

Confusion was an ally. Sabo's people were too busy dodging phantom fire to go after Steve.

“Keep at it,” he panted into the radio.

It sounded like a war zone, the deafening noise of an MK30 overwhelming. It was scary and confusing to those not used to it. Steve took advantage of the shell shock.

Sabo took off, but his street crew remained threats.

Steve kept to one knee and steadied his aim, then took out two targets with several shots.

The third goon returned fire, emptying his clip chaotically. Steve rolled the opposite way, ignored the burn in his arm, and pulled the trigger twice, dropping the guy.

“Steve!” Chin shouted.

He hit the ground and came back up shooting, but there was no need.

Blood soaked the front of Walaka's pristine white shirt. He dropped his gun and slumped to the ground.

Chin nodded and returned his weapon on his former guards.

There was one target left-- the one responsible for Marcus's murder. Sabo.

Steve ran. Things tilted and spun, but he kept after Sabo, seeking out the bumbling shadow against the night.

Shots rang out, and either luck or bad aim kept Steve in one piece. The familiar click of an empty chamber echoed in the night.

He spotted a shape meters ahead of him and took aim. Center mass point blank.

Except he was out of ammo as well, his Sig clacking loudly.

There was a guttural noise and a shift in the air. Steve didn't have time to brace for the tackle. Weight and momentum knocked him down and crushed his chest and lungs.

A fist clobbered him in the left cheek while another smashed his jaw.

Steve didn't feel either punch and zeroed in on the other man’s vulnerabilities. He struck Sabo in the side of the throat, then rammed his palm under the man's chin.

Sabo rolled to the side and Steve scrambled to his hands and knees, coughing and spitting blood as he tried to suck in oxygen. He staggered to his feet, watching Sabo writhe on the ground and sputter for air.

There were dozens of ways to the kill a man quickly and efficiently. Steve focused on his breathing as he tried to rally his strength.

“Guess Jackson...wasn't so tough if…one of my minions...killed him,” Sabo rasped.

Steve could plant his boot on Sabo's skull. Crush it beneath his heel.

“I saved...the taxpayers some dough,” Sabo wheezed.

Steve slammed another clip into his Sig and pressed the barrel to Sabo's forehead. “You're spending the rest of your life in an eight-by-eight cell. I'm not giving you an easy way out.”

He cracked the butt of his gun against Sabo's skull and took a steadying breath.

Sirens echoed in the distance signaling that the cavalry was on its way.

Steve straightened to his full height, his legs miraculously supporting his weight.

Within minutes, the sirens became shouts of people running around. HPD and SWAT crawled all over the scene, and he shuffled toward his team.

Danny huffed over, bursting with emotion. “There you are! I thought you were dead. Or busy breaking every bone in Sabo's body. Or God knows what else.”

Steve stood there since that was all he was capable of. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see me?” Danny repeated. His face a mixture of ticked off and relieved. “Is that all you have to say, you dumb son of a bitch?”

Steve was confused, because Danny yelled and hugged him at the same time. “God, what do you think you're doing with this one-man-army bull?”

Steve patted Danny on the back and pulled away with a grin. “I wasn't alone.”

Chin wandered over, eyebrows arched in amusement.

Kono walked behind him, rifle perched easily on her shoulder. Jenna beamed in excitement behind her.

Danny ping-ponged between all of them. “Could someone explain to me what happened?”

“Subterfuge,” Steve smiled.

“Subterfuge?” Danny echoed. “What's with you and the million dollar words?”

“It was really cool,” Kono grinned.

“Masking your numbers. Classic deception,” Chin chuckled.

“I got to fire an MK 30,” Jenna bragged before clearing her throat. “Well, I had to aim it in the other direction, and I promised never to point it near anyone.”

Danny paled. “You shot a fully automatic weapon?”

“McGarrett made me practice first,” Jenna defended.

“We used all the equipment from Jackson's storage shed,” Kono explained. “He had multiple laser sights.”

Danny snapped his fingers. “You guys made it look like a whole team of snipers was here. And you,” he pointed at Jenna. “Fired one of the big guns to keep the illusion alive.”

“It seemed the best practical direction,” Steve said despite how Danny gawked at him.

“You are certifiable, did you know that? Not only are you insane, it's spread like a disease to everyone else. And unless you magically developed healing powers, you should still be in the hospital.” Danny planted his hand on Steve's forehead. “How are you still even standing on your own?”

Chin was at his right, Kono and Jenna huddled to his left. He looked at Danny. “Because I'm not.”

The weekend with Grace helped put the events of the last few days into the realm of horrible memories and snippets of nightmares. Danny returned to work on Monday and enjoyed catching up on things like mundane paperwork for a few days. He basked in the silence while his partner recuperated at home. Steve had actually stayed a full twenty-four hours at the hospital before being released.

Not that he'd really been resting.

Staring at the notice in the paper, Danny read Marcus Jackson's obituary and funeral notice. When he got off work later, he needed to go by the cleaners to pick up his uniform.

Chin knocked on the door and entered the office with a folder. “With Walaka dead, Sabo can't stop begging for a deal. The DA's beside herself with the number of charges to hit him with. The boys in narcotics are having a field day tearing apart his organization.”

“He had the perfect way to smuggle drugs across the islands,” Danny admitted, “using Walaka's business to transport his goods in vehicles loaded with naval parts.”

“Jackson stumbled onto the operation by accident. Since his job entailed searching for all suspicious activity, he discovered the doctored accounting.”

Leaning in his chair, Danny stretched his back. “And the notebook?”

“It was a key,” Chin said in admiration. “Jackson copied everything that connected Singer Industries with the money laundering operation-- wires, account information, both sets of books. He also discovered that Walaka was skimming off the top.”

“Jackson never stole any accounts. Walaka was covering his ass.”

“Yep. Jackson documented and uploaded everything onto a private ISP. The notebook had the location of the ISP address as well as all the offshore accounts Singer Industries used to launder Sabo's drug money.”

It was all nicely wrapped up in a package, except it wasn't enough. Jackson had discovered the warehouse and had poked around Sabo's records. He’d connected the dots and decided to play detective.

Chin must have been a mind reader. “Jackson had enough to go to the police, but he didn't. Who knows why? Maybe he craved the thrill of the hunt, or he was compulsive and wanted to give HPD everything on a silver platter.”

Or maybe Jackson missed what it was like to go after the bad guys. No one would ever truly know.

Getting up, Danny gathered the files he wanted to review over the weekend. “See you tomorrow?”

Chin nodded. They'd all be there.

--------

Chief Petty Officer Marcus Jackson wasn't from Hawaii. He'd lived on the island for less than two years.

That didn't matter to the hundreds who came to pay their respects at his funeral. Danny stood in police dress, a mere speck in the ocean of starched collars and crisp gloves.

Members of all the armed services were on hand, although the pride of the Navy made up most of the crowd, both those in active duty and from the local VFW. Danny recognized the tridents on several uniforms.

Kono and Chin stood next to him, with Jenna at the end of their little row.

Steve was one of several pallbearers, carrying the casket draped in colors to its final resting site.

There were a couple speeches, the salute of gunfire from the honor guard, and the familiar redemption of Taps.

Danny itched to be out his uniform but he remained. They all did until the masses thinned to the few.

Steve walked over, face unreadable, shoulders stiff at attention. “I wanted to thank all of you for coming.”

“Of course,” Kono answered before giving Steve a quick hug.

Chin and Jenna did the same, sticking around while Danny came over. “So, I'm sure you need to take off. I bet you've got dozens of tales to share with your Navy buddies.”

Steve swallowed, clearing his throat. “Actually, I was hoping we could all grab a beer somewhere.”

“Yeah, of course,” Danny said surprised. “You name the place.”

“How about my house?”

Despite the oppressive weight of formality and the layers of uniform and medals, Danny had never seen Steve so willingly unprotected.

“We'll get there early. I'll dig out your grill,” Danny offered. “We're supposed to eat at times like this.”

Steve allowed a slight smile. “Yeah, we are.”

November 28, 2003

“Looks like I won’t be calling you ‘Jay Gee’ anymore.”

Steve chuckled and glanced down at his lieutenant’s stripes. “Guess not.”

Marcus dumped his duffel bag onto the ground and shielded his face from the bright sunshine. “We wheels up in three hours?”

“Yeah.” Steve studied the Black Hawks as they were being fueled. “We’ve got another gear check in twenty minutes.”

“You know that rush you're feeling? It's the same adrenaline as last week, sir.”

It was his first mission as a full-fledged SEAL. He nodded, still gazing out. “I'm aware of that.”

“I live for this feeling. Don't know what I'd do if it ever went away.” Marcus grabbed his duffel and slung it over his shoulder. “I'm glad we were assigned together, sir.”

“Likewise,” Steve answered, slipping on his shades.

“Now let's go blow some shit up!” Marcus howled.

---------

Steve sipped on his beer; a half-eaten hamburger stained a paper plate next to him with grease. He sat in shorts and a t-shirt, his dress uniform hanging in his closet.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Danny pulled out the chair next to Steve's, plopping down and stretching out his legs. “That's a really dumb saying if you really think about it.”

“I dunno. It's kind of right. Although mine are worth much more,” Steve smiled, emptying the rest of his bottle in a few swallows.

“Guess I'll never have enough money then,” Danny snorted.

Steve's gaze drifted toward the beach where Kono and Chin laughed as Jenna’s impromptu sandcastle toppled over. He fiddled with his bottle, started tearing away the label. “Marcus called me a couple of weeks ago. I put off talking to him because we had a lead on Wo Fat. Hours turned into days. Days into a couple of weeks.”

“It happens, man. Nothing good ever comes out of what-ifs.”

“I know. I'm not second-guessing myself. Much,” Steve admitted. “I've spent most of my life serving my country. Wouldn't trade a second of it. But sometimes I wonder...”

“If maybe you need to enjoy the fruits of your labor? That life and work are not the same thing?”

“Maybe.”

“’Maybe’, he says.” Danny held up his hands, framing the sunset with his fingers. “This right here is worth it all. We'll never know when it'll be our last.”

Staring up, Steve leaned back in his chair, soaking in clouds of swirling purple and orange. He drank in the beauty. Life dealt many blows, but true friendship was a gift. It was earned, but it was also something to be shared.

“Marcus and I served three years together before he was wounded.”

Danny sat and listened. He didn't poke or pry. He was just there for whatever Steve needed.

“That mission was fubared from the beginning. We were in this jungle. Surrounded by thousands of orchids. God, the scent was amazing – vanilla, I think. We were outnumbered a hundred to one....” Steve began, unlocking a tightly closed door and forcing it open.

Fini-