A/N: Hello, All! If you're currently reading this authors note, I love you! Thanks for giving this story a chance. However, they're a couple things I would like to point out before I get started. I have just started watching Hawaii Five-0 – thanks to having no television at the moment and the library. I've seen a good amount of episodes (only most of season 2). I haven't seen Season 3 yet. But I want to apologize in case I do not capture the characters personality as well I possibly could. This is also fan fiction. So please, if you don't like how I portray the characters, then I'm very sorry! Also, the chapters will be longer. This is just the opening.
Please, if you would like me to continue, review!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-0, nor am I making any money from this. However, if I did own the show, I would hug Alex forever and ever.
Secrets
Chapter One: Help
Pain – a familiar feeling for Steven McGarrett, ex-Navy SEAL and the Five-0 task force leader of Hawaii. Whether it was emotional or physical, Steve had been through it. From finding out about his mother and father's death, to being stabbed, shot at, and thrown out of moving vehicles; he had dealt with it. But right now, he was in a lot of physical pain.
His eyes shot open, and all he saw was black. His shoulder flared with pain with every movement, every breath. He wanted to stop breathing, stop the pain, but that would only kill him. He could live through a little pain. He had done it all his life, and he didn't plan on stopping now.
The dark haired SEAL sighed, as the familiarity of his home welcomed him. He mustered a tiny smile as he stared up at the ceiling, the same two-inch long crack that was there yesterday, was there today, and he was happy. He was happy that he had another chance to stare at it.
The events of yesterday were fresh in his mind, and he knew he shouldn't be there. He shouldn't be alive.
Working with the Five-0 task force of Hawaii was a privilege, Steve knew. He loved each and every one of his team-mates. He trusted them with his life, and yesterday, when he needed them the most, they didn't fail.
It had been a routine operation; Detective Danny Williams (his partner, and best friend), along with Officer Kono Kalakaua and Lieutenant Chin Ho Kelly and of course, himself, had caught a break in a case that had lasted much too much; 3 weeks. It normally took the group of four days – and if lucky, a day, to solve a crime, but this one had them stumped.
The media called him 'The Hose Killer'; It wasn't very original, but the public got the point. The Hose Killer killed anyone – he didn't have a preference. He simply killed, and he was good at it. How he killed, was what had Five-0 initially shocked.
He would knock the victims out, on most cases using chloroform. In a matter of minutes, he would hang them from anything that could support their weight. He slid their head into a hole he formed with the gardening hose. He'd kick the chair out from under them, and eventually, they would be dead.
At first it looked like suicide, that's what the Hawaiian Police Department first thought it was, but McGarrett and his crew knew better; and before they it, they were chasing a serial killer. They had been careful, not knowing just as dangerous this killer was. But yesterday, yesterday they slipped up. Yesterday, they screwed up. Yesterday, they stopped being careful.
Steve McGarrett winced as he lay in his bed, shirtless. A thick, white bandage was wrapped around his right shoulder, a bloody, red stain shown through, and he knew he would have to get it changed soon. It took a lot of pestering, but he got out of the hospital, grateful that he didn't have to spend a night there.
McGarrett and hospitals do not mix well.
The events of yesterday continued to flash through Steve's mind like a broken record. It was choppy, and he didn't remember a lot of it, but he recalled his team-mates shouts, cries, grunts, and moans. He remembered the distant sound of an ambulance and back up, arriving at the scene. He remembered the distinct shout of his partner, his best friend, his non-biological brother, Danny Williams.
"Steve, hey buddy, stay with me okay. Eyes on me. . ."
The New Jersey native had rested Steve's head in his lap, as he tried to apply pressure to both of the gunshot wounds; one in his shoulder, the other in his abdomen.
His friend's voice was distant, and the darkness around him grew; but Steve remembered his Naval training, and he had to keep his eyes open. Just a couple more minutes before the ambulance would arrive and he would be in safe hands. He remembered the fight, the fight he needed to have to keep his heavy eyelids from closing on him. It was the hardest battle he had ever fought, an eventually he lost. The last thing he heard was Danny, shouting, panicking, and shaking him.
"Steve, hey! Don't leave me, man. Eyes on—"
But it had been too late, Steve had closed his eyes.
Lightning flashed across the sky, as Steve tore his gaze away from the crack in the ceiling. He painfully rolled over on his left side – his good side – and stared at his digital clock. 7:47am; Wednesday.
He crawled out of bed and stood. His hands reached out and grabbed the bed's headboard, steadying his shaky knees. Steve winced as he looked down at his second bandaged, which was wrapped tightly around his lower stomach. He had been shot at plenty of times before, but something felt different about this.
After a couple of moments, he pushed himself away from the bed, stumbling towards the bathroom. On his way there, he occasionally reached out and grabbed the wall, afraid his legs would give way, sending him tumbling towards the floor.
The usual bathroom trip in the morning took ten to fifteen minutes longer than usual for Steve McGarrett. Instead of brushing his teeth with his right hand, he had to try it with his left, and sadly, he couldn't do anything with his left hand. In the end, toothpaste was all over the place, his lips, his chin, a little below his eye; but he got the job down eventually. Next, he use to toilet, and luckily, that was easy. But as he stood up and washed his hands, his eyes fell on the bathtub, and he inwardly cursed.
There was no way in his condition was he going to be able to take a shower. Luckily, he couldn't take a shower. He couldn't get his bandages wet.
Steve sighed as he walked out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom. The room was dark, since no natural light was shining through the windows, thanks to the rain and dreary weather outside. Forgetting for a split millisecond, Steve flipped on the over head light, using his right hand. He was momentarily blinded as a white light flashed before his eyes, and a jolt of pain shot through his shoulder. He clutched his arm, cursing and yelling profanity at the top of his lungs. It took all of his willpower to keep from dropping to his knees. Tears developed in his eyes, but they refused to fall.
The moment was over; a long painful moment, but it was done. The pain subsided, but a throbbing feeling was still there as Steve continued on with his day.
He slowly, even slower then before, made his way over to his made. With his good arm, he tossed the covers up to the top, and hoped they looked better. It was as close to a 'made bed' as it would get. Steve then walked over to his nightstand and took his iPhone off its home base, fully charged. He had two unread texts and a missed call.
The two text's were from Danny.
From: Danny
Hey Steve, I heard you were released from the hospital. I wish I could've been there, but Grace was staying with me last night and I had to get her back to my dump of an apartment. I was wondering how you were doing. Text or call me as soon as you can.
Steve stifled a smile as he read the next text; this one was sent earlier this morning, at 6:13 am.
From: Danny
Yo Steve, the office is mighty quiet without you around. I know you. . .and I wouldn't be surprised if you tried to come to work today. So let me save you the trouble of getting dressed with one arm and tell you do not come! If you do come, I might have to shoot you in the other shoulder. Seriously, Buddy, don't test me.
The Navy SEAL was in a full blown smile as he exited out of the texts. He probably should reply, but texting with one hand could be a bitch, and he didn't want to have to do it.
Next was the phone call. Whoever it was had left a voicemail, which Steve listened to. He plopped down onto his bed, his grey sweatpants riding up on him. He sighed as a voice he didn't recognize at first, spoke. It was a woman, for sure.
"Hello, Steve? Um. . .I know you won't recognize this number, but its Rachel; Rachel Edwards, Danny's ex—"
Steve nodded knowingly, as if Rachel could see him now. He remembered her.
"—I'm so sorry If I'm bothering you. I know you must be a busy man, but I need your help. I. . .I can't go to Danny with this. And I know you and Danny are practically brothers. . .So if Danny can trust you with his life, then I can surely trust you with this. I can't talk about it on the phone. . .I. . .Can we meet up somewhere? Anywhere, really. Just as long as Danny doesn't know about it. Please, you can't tell him I called you Steve. I really need your help. I don't admit this a lot, but I'm scared. Call me back as soon as possible. T-thanks."
~ To be Continued...
