The take-off of this story is delayed from the beginning, but will pick up speed as it goes along, hopefully becoming a roller coaster ride of emotions and suspense.
WARNING - There will be mayhem as the plot unfolds, including some pretty descriptive scenes like accidents, injuries, flashbacks to war, etc. If this does upset you, please don't read it. I would not want to be responsible for your nightmares!
1. FROM LA TO HONOLULU
The young auburn haired stewardess in the dark blue United Airlines dress is relaxing in the back galley; she looks up in surprise at the sound of the flight attendance chime, the steady blue light indicating seat 33-A.
She knows immediately who it is.
Looking at her watch she sees it's almost 2 AM; most of the passengers are fast asleep. They're now over four hours into the flight, and with a little luck they'll land at Honolulu in about two hours.
The flight, which was supposed to have taken off from LAX at 7:05 PM, finally received clearance for take-off after a two and a half hour delay. The thunder storm hovering over the airport was a bad one.
She had totally agreed with the tower's decision to keep all planes grounded until it had passed, although it had taken a hefty dose of both diplomacy and self-control to placate the grumbling passengers who had just boarded.
Of course it had been just her luck to have one passenger totally flip out. "I want a goddamn drink, lady; now!" the passenger in seat 36-D had snapped at her.
She'd sighed, once again explaining to the red faced, balding man that she was not allowed to serve alcohol while the plane was still on the ground.
She had tried to leave, but he'd half risen out of his seat and grabbed her wrist in a painful, numbing grip. "Give me that drink, or I swear I will …"
She'd seen his other hand come up and had half expected to be hit, when she heard him give a yelp of pain. The next moment her wrist was released and she was gently but firmly pushed out of the way. As she'd stood there rubbing her wrist, still blinking at the sudden pain, she watched a man lean over and talk to the passenger, now back in his seat.
Broad-shouldered, dressed in a flannel shirt, jeans and boots, he'd spoken in a low, calm voice.
She hadn't heard what he said, but she had watched the passenger blanch, first nod and then shake his head. The man had patted him on the shoulder and turned towards her.
"You OK?" he'd asked, taking her wrist and looking at it. She'd taken in his tall, muscular form, the brown eyes looking at her inquisitively from underneath thick, dark eyebrows; the square jaw, a scar running across it, was sporting a pepper-and-salt stubble.
She had nodded, acutely aware of his hands on her wrist, and he'd given her a quick smile. She watched him walk off and settle into his corner seat by the bathrooms, arranging his long legs. Then, throwing a quick, withering look at the troublemaker, she'd gone back about her business.
She gets up and walks towards 33-A; there are now dark circles underneath the man's eyes, and the stubble on his chin is more pronounced.
She whispers so she doesn't disturb the sleeping passenger sitting next to him. "Can I get you anything?"
He smiles. "Coffee, if you have some."
She nods, goes back to the galley and quickly makes some fresh coffee. As an afterthought she gets out the small Thermos she always takes with her, rinses it out, fills it with coffee, grabs a few wrapped sandwiches and goes back to the passenger.
He's rifling through some papers when she reaches his seat; smiling, she hands him the Thermos and sandwiches. When he raises his eyebrows in surprise she says: "So you won't bug me again, or the other passengers." She winks at him and he gives her a big grin, making him look a lot younger than the forty or so years she thinks he is.
"Thank you" he whispers in a low voice, and she smiles and nods again before heading back to the galley.
The plane lands two hours later; the stewardesses supervise the passengers' disembarking procedure, which seems to take forever.
When the plane is almost empty, a hand touches the arm of the auburn haired stewardess standing near the exit; she looks up and sees the man from seat 33-A. He holds up her Thermos. "Cleaned it as well as I could."
She smiles, takes the flask from him, and then shakes his hand. "It's the least I could do after you helped me with that aggressive man."
He nods, says "No problem" and then steps off the plane onto the jet bridge.
Detective Gabriel Martinez from the Gangs and Narcotics Division or GND of the Los Angeles Police Department sits slouched down in one of the bucket seats near Gate 9 at Honolulu Airport; the light padding is doing nothing to alleviate the backache he's developing.
Sergeant Anakoni "Tony" Mano from the Hawaiian Police Department sits next to him, reading a magazine. They've been sitting there for over an hour, having arrived too early despite checking the flight's status, waiting for Gabriel's partner who is coming to join him in Hawaii.
The two LA detectives have been working a case for over a year now, uncovering a large narcotics network lead by a man named Cahan Brody, an Irish national whose family has been linked to Sinn Féin in the past.
The level of ruthlessness this man has displayed in taking out rivals, as well as the involvement of several of the major gangs within LA, makes the case the number one priority on their 'To Do' list.
When the main suspect, Brody, magically disappeared right when they'd gotten close, a re-evaluation of the facts uncovered a link with Hawaii.
Their only hope of finding Brody is following up on the link, and having worked this case for so long, it's only logical the two detectives go to Hawaii themselves. They had decided Gabriel would go first, his partner still needing to dot some i's and cross a few t's before being able to leave.
Gabriel looks at his watch. "First the plane's late, now the man himself is late" he grumbles. "I bet three-quarters of that bird is empty already." He rubs his eyes, then sneezes.
"Ola!" says Tony, looking up from his magazine. Gabriel looks at him, lifts his eyebrow. "That's 'bless you' in Hawaiian."
"Right." says Gabriel, then spots a dark head above the other passengers, moving swiftly among them as he's coming out of the jet bridge. "Finally!" He gets up, pops his back and walks towards the tall tired looking man carrying a military styled duffel bag. "Hey there, Matt. You sure took your sweet time." He claps him on the back, then tries to take his bag from him.
"Don't bother, Gabe, I got my piece in there; better carry it myself." Gabriel notices that Matt's voice sounds even gruffer than usual. The guy must be dead on his feet.
Tony smiles and sticks out a hand: "On behalf of the HPD, welcome to Honolulu, Detective Sterling. I'm Sergeant Tony Mano; I'm here to pick you up and take you to your accommodations."
Matt takes his hand and shakes it. "Thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to go to wherever I'm staying, have a shower and then get some sleep."
The young Hawaiian HPD-sergeant is slightly taken aback at the man's directness.
Gabriel notices it, and sighs; his partner's social skills, or better described as lack thereof, are a constant subject of discussion between them. He decides to give him a break now, though.
Tony scrapes his throat. "If you'll come with me, I'll drive you to your apartment in Aina Haina. We've arranged for your rental car to be dropped off there, so you don't need to go through that hassle tomorrow."
Matt nods appreciatively.
They bypass Immigration and Customs quickly and without a hitch, and when they get outside Matt stands still for a moment to inhale the cool, clean night air.
"You clogged up again, dude?" Gabriel asks. When Matt nods, he continues: "Those vents systems in planes and airports get you every time, don't they?"
He knows this is an after effect of injuries Matt sustained in Iraq some ten years ago, but he's never been made privy to the exact details.
Matt never talks about his time there, and when Gabriel found out his partner was a former Marine, Matt had simply chopped off Gabriel's initial questions with a joking "That's classified; if I told you, I'd have to kill you."
Somehow Gabriel had felt that, underneath the joke, Matt was deadly serious.
Matt had only ever once volunteered information directly related to having been in a war.
One night, while having a beer after a particularly intensive day, Gabriel noticed Matt ignoring a pretty girl's obvious efforts to flirt with him.
Curious, he asked why he'd never seen Matt with a woman. "How about that, dude; is there something I need to know?" Grinning, he joked: "Do I need to be afraid when you say you have my back?"
Matt's mouth lifted in a half-smile. "Don't worry, Gabe; I don't cheer for the same team."
Gabriel nodded, then asked: "So how come there's no woman in your life, man?"
Matt took a long sip from his beer, then calmly looked Gabriel straight in the eye. "Because they can't handle my nightmares."
Gabriel's beer had frozen halfway to his mouth; as he looked into Matt's eyes, he saw a flicker of an emotion so raw, so gut-wrenchingly stark that it cut off his breath. He'd slowly put the beer to his mouth, taking his time, unable to come up with one of his usual quips.
Matt kept looking at him, and Gabriel eventually nodded, dead serious. "I get it, Matt; I get it." And he did.
He knew that people could experience things, could go through situations that would not only scar them for life, but the reverberations of which could send those close to them running, shrieking in terror.
It had happened to him when he was young, and stupid, and part of the gang scene in LA; and afterwards as well, when he'd jumped out and joined the LAPD, and then gone undercover.
So yes, he'd gotten what Matt meant. And had silently vowed to never mention it again.
It takes them about fifteen minutes to get to Papai Street in the Aina Haina area, where Tony pulls into the driveway of an old-fashioned 1950's house. He parks behind a black Dodge Avenger, turns around to Matt and hands him a set of keys. "These are the keys to the house and," he turns back and nods to the Dodge, "for your rental car."
Matt accepts the keys, then looks at the house, where a soft yellow light shines from within. "I'm sure it's fine. Thank you."
Tony nods at him.
"Well, you go do what tired people do, dude, and I'll see you tomorrow" says Gabriel and he claps Matt on the shoulder.
Matt gets out of the car. "Normally I'd invite you guys in, but I don't know if there's anything I can offer you, and more importantly, I really need to sleep."
Gabriel waves away his apology. "Don't worry about it." He grins. "You go drink by yourself." Matt throws him a questioning look, and Gabriel continues: "I stocked the fridge and got some basic food stuff. That way you don't need to rush to the stores first thing in the morning. Oh, and there's a map on the kitchen counter where I've marked a few points of interest for you, like the HPD. So you won't get lost."
"Great, thanks Gabe." Matt lifts a hand as they reverse out of the driveway, then turns around and opens the front door.
The house is small and sparsely furnished; there's a couch, two comfortable chairs and a coffee table in the living room area, a made-up double bed and built-in closets in the bedroom, a tiny but functional bathroom and a small cupboard in the hallway connecting the two rooms.
Matt is glad he has opted to accept the offer of spending his time in Hawaii in a private home. Hotels are not his thing; he prefers to be able to grab his towel from where he hung it last and doesn't like people coming into his room, even if only to clean.
Most importantly though, he knows he won't get much sleep in a hotel.
The little house is owned by a cousin of Detective Noa Mahi'ai from the HPD, their liaison in Hawaii. Having recently bought a bigger house after getting married, the cousin is not using the little house and plans to put it on the market; it's perfect for Matt, who knows he has Gabriel to thank for this opportunity. His partner is aware of his sleeping problems and arranged this under the ruse of Matt needing private space in order for them to review the case.
The kitchen has all the basic amenities, and Matt sees his partner has not only left a map, but there's a file marked 'Brody' on the counter as well. The fridge is stocked with basic food items, milk, a six pack of Budweiser and another six pack of what Matt presumes to be Hawaiian beer, Longboard.
Matt takes one of the Hawaiian beers, opens it and takes a sip; liking the slightly spicy flavor he takes the bottle and the file to the bedroom, kicks off his boots and lies down, flipping through the papers.
It's not even ten minutes later when the words in front of him start to blur; he finishes off his beer, goes to the bathroom, strips down and hops into the shower. Fifteen minutes later he's in bed, and in less than two he's asleep.
A few hours later the nightmares come, as they always do.
"Where's Five-Oh?!" Just be patient. McGarrett & Co. will put in an appearance soon, I promise. I hope you'll continue to join me for the ride .