This is a one-shot that came to mind.
I'm not sure if I'll develop it into a full story, but thought I'd share anyway.

EDIT: I have received quite a few requests to further expand this story, so that's what I'll do ;-)
Please be patient though, as I'm still working on another major story that needs finishing.
I'll definitely post a new chapter for this story this weekend though.
Oh, and I'll try to use less exclamation marks *grin*

1. PARCELLED OUT

Opening his eyes isn't easy; the left one is swollen completely shut, and the right one is caked over with dried blood. His head pounds something fierce, and his body is sore. No, scratch that; sore isn't the correct description. His body is on fire! There's fire when he breathes, and fire when he moves. All his nerve endings feel like they have been seared with a hot poker.

He tries to determine where he is. The bouncing and jarring motion mean he is inside a vehicle, a moving vehicle at that. When he finally manages to crack open his right eye, he sees his feet are tied together with a thick zip-tie. Looking up, he can see his wrists are cuffed above his head, the cuffs linked around steel reinforcement bars running beneath a tarpaulin cover. His mouth is taped shut; he can feel the tight band around his lower face, tastes the plastic between his lips.

Then comes the most important question: what happened?!

There's a memory of being with the team, sitting out near the beach and enjoying a cool beer after a long day's work. He was going to get something from the car - what was it; something for Grace? - and the warm fuzzy feeling of the sun and beer had made him slow; too slow to fully turn as he sensed imminent danger, and way too slow to draw his gun. The next moment he felt himself going rigid and a pulsating sensation going through his muscles. Taser! he knew.

He was unfortunate enough to hit his head on the edge of the curb when going down.

"Well, that saves me from having to sedate him. Now get him inside the trunk!" Two burly men bundle Steve's unconscious form into the trunk of a large black sedan. The three men look around quickly, get in, and then the car speeds off. The whole affair has lasted less than five minutes.

They stop just outside the city limits. "I need to check on our package" says the slim, Asian looking man. One of the big Hawaiians gets out with him, and they move towards the back of the car. When they open the trunk, the Hawaiian man sucks in his breath. "Ouch; that was a bad fall!."

The material beneath Steve's head is soaked with blood, having run from a large gash just above his right eye, now filled with coagulated blood. His left eye is swollen shut, and the area around it is starting to bruise badly. "Think he broke something?" the Hawaiian asks.

The Asian man doesn't answer; he gently probes Steve's head, causing him to groan. "He might have an orbital fracture, you know, broke his eye socket. But I'm pretty sure that wouldn't slow him down much if he decides to get out, so ..." He pulls a capped syringe from the pocket of his jacket, takes off the cap and sticks the needle in Steve's neck, fully depressing the plunger. "That should take care of him for the next six hours or so."

They close the trunk, then get back into the car. "So what's the plan, Boss?" The Asian man looks coolly at the big man. "We're going to get him off the island, of course. The whole idea is to have him out of the way so we can operate without interference." He chuckles. "His team mates will be so busy looking for him that they won't spare us a second glance."

The motion suddenly stops, and next he hears a door slam shut. Closing his eye and relaxing his body, he senses the tarpaulin being opened as light filters through the interior of the vehicle.

"Looks like he's still out. You sure he doesn't get too much drugs?" Next he feels the vehicle move slightly as somebody is getting inside. He has to exert all of his self control not to jerk away as he suddenly feels a rough hand moving his head from side to side, the pain sudden and jarring.

The voice next to him belongs to a different person. "Nah, he's fine. This stuff may have it's side effects, but it won't kill him." Before he realizes what happens, he feels the sharp sting of a needle going into his neck. He groans as the fiery sensation in his body increases a hundredfold, then mercifully he sinks into a deep, black abyss.

He doesn't know how long he's been unconscious, but waking up is not pleasant. He moans at the fire coursing through his veins, eating at his raw nerves. This must be due to the drug they've been giving him, the side-effects the man talked about. It demands his complete attention, makes it nearly impossible to sense anything else going on.

Willing himself to breath through the pain, he manages to slow down his heart rate, push the fiery sensation into a separate place. It's still there but doesn't occupy his whole world anymore. Opening his eye, he notices there is no longer any light filtering through beneath the tarpaulin. It must be night.

There's something else as well.

At first he doesn't get it, doesn't understand why things feel wrong, off somehow. Then he realizes: the sounds outside are different! He is intimately familiar with the night-time sounds of Oahu, the bird calls, the insects. He doesn't hear those here! And with something close to shock he can only reach one conclusion.

He's no longer on the island!

Please let me know what you think about it, and whether you would like me to expand it.

Thank you!