I disclaim.

AN: Okay this is set before the other CIA chick showed up and definitely before the finale (the governor is evil? Who saw that coming?). I don't have anything against her, other than that she seems a little obvious. Her knowing absolutely everything about WoFat that Steve needed to know was too convenient for me.

After the Storm

Prologue: "I run and run as the rains come…"

1030 hrs. Oahu Midtown.

The tropical rainstorm was lightening up as the young woman went for a jog. Oahu's streets, slick with rain, were still rather empty in the early, cloudy morning. Her blond hair was quickly covered by the black hood of her windbreaker, the back embossed with the Marine Corps emblem.

But despite the thin traffic, or perhaps because of it, she didn't notice the van trailing her carefully, her attention on her sneakers and the music pulsing from her earbuds. Checking her watch the runner turned, making her way back to the apartment after a half hour, cutting the run short. Caught off guard the van's driver overcompensated, turning abruptly. Narrowing her brown eyes, the blond didn't break stride but sped up, cutting through a park to get to the center of the city and her apartment quicker. The van, sensing her intention, sped up as well, no longer hiding its intentions as the side door swung open, revealing black clad, masked figures.

The runner reached the single floor apartment first, kicking the door open rather than fumbling with her keys. Slamming the broken door closed, she pushed over a table in front of the doorway, trying to block the entry frantically. She could hear them outside. Desperately she ran to the bathroom as the table exploded out and the men broke in, two through the door and one bursting in through the picture window a few feet away. One rushed for the bathroom, gun drawn, dodging the hand mirror flying at his head. Moments later the blonde was hustled from the space, unconscious figure thrown over her kidnappers shoulder as the others moved through the apartment, trashing and smashing anything they touched, searching for something, then leaving, carefully drawing the blinds over the broken glass and wedging the door closed. They left just as the neighborhood was waking, the streets still quiet after the storm.

Chapter 1: "…on my knees and out of luck, I look up."

1300hrs. Five 0 Headquarters.

Steve McGarrett rolled his eyes as Danny huffed into his office, his partner throwing himself into a chair and his feet up onto the desk. "I hate paperwork. I mean really, really hate it." The Navy man raised his eyebrows, waiting for his partner to get to the point. Danny was using his 'I'm very upset with you but we're both going to pretend everything's cool until I start ranting' voice. "So I understand, you know, how one might chose to ignore some forms here and there… you know an intake here and there. But what I can't understand, I mean cannot mentally comprehend, is how a person doesn't do ANY PAPERWORK, AT ALL for TWO WEEKS! Two weeks! I mean-" Now Danny was almost out of the chair, so riled up he needed to move.

"Excuse me ladies," Chin stuck his head into the office, "if you're done having your little flirting session, there's somebody here who wants to talk to you boss."

Danny watched him leave, steam let out by the interruption. "Sometimes I really hate him."

"More than me?" Steve smiled, getting to his feet, making sure his badge was pinned to his belt before leaving.

The New Jersey native stood as well, smoothing his tie, "No one more than you. Not ever." Shoving to be the first one out, both men left the office, walking to where Chin and Kono were waiting with a young man. Both detectives sized up the guy as they approached. Tall and lean, but well muscled, he looked like half the population of the island; deeply tanned, but clearly Caucasian. Steve almost put him around thirty, he was nearly bald, but a clear look at the guy's young, unlined face and close buzz cut made him reconsider, and after looking at the nervous tick he had, methodically packing his cigarette packs, decided he was a victim relation and not a suspect or informant. Informants tended to at least pretended to be calm and victims had more distress on their faces. This kid looked worried, not hurt.

"Hey, I'm Commander Steve McGarrett," he held out his hand and received a surprisingly strong handshake in return, "and this is my partner Detective Danny Williams." Danny's hand received the same treatment. "What's your name kid?"

Storing his pack in a cargo pants pocket the kid snapped off a salute. "Lance Corporal Sean Doyle sir, Pensacola NAS."

"Long way from home soldier." Danny smirked, "what the hell are you doing here?"

Doyle frowned at the address, opening his mouth, but McGarrett beat him to it. "Marine, Danny, marines are lance corporals. And you never call a marine a soldier, right Doyle?"

"Yes sir," the man gave him a distracted smile."But that's not really what I care about right now. I… my sister's missing, Commander. I think she's been kidnapped."

Steve exchanged glances with his team, silently asking Kono and Chin why they hadn't just sent this guy to HPD. Kono spoke up. "I know what you're thinking boss, but I think you should hear what he has to say."

Steve nodded, watching as the kid pulled out his cigarettes again, and absently he noticed that they were a brand procured in Iraq. He'd known a couple of guys he served with preferred them to the cheaper, lower quality tobacco that you found in the US. Doyle pulled a hand through what little hair he had left, beginning his story. "I flew out from California yesterday—jumped a transport my CO managed to get me a seat on—and my sister Kara, Kara Doyle," he looked at McGarrett meaningfully, but at the man's blank stare he continued, "was supposed to pick me up this morning when I arrived. I'm only supposed to be here for a few days—I came just to see her. But she never showed up. That's when I knew something was wrong."

"Wait, wait, wait," Danny held up a hand, "your sister loses her car keys and you assume she's been kidnapped? That's a pretty big jump."

The marine threw his cigarettes onto a nearby desk. "No actually, not really. The thing about my sister…she and I, we don't really get along, you know. I was a punk kid, into all sorts of shit—drugs, that sort of thing. She spent most of our lives cleaning up after my mistakes, or dealing with my parents after they'd cleaned me up. Finally she got tired of doing it all, getting no thanks, and stopped talking to me. Of course, it could be that I was just a little asshole. Then Kara went to grad school and I went into the Corps and we just… I turned out alright, now. I'm clean, up for promotion—I'm a good marine sir, but I'm not a good brother. That's why I'm here. My girlfriends pregnant, we're gonna get married. Our parent's don't talk to me and, I just want—I want my sister at my wedding. To be my kid's godmother. So I called her, told her I was coming out and she said she'd pick me up. 1100 hrs on the dot sir. That's what she said." He took a deep breath. "I know you think it's crazy, but my sister lives by her schedule. She plans everything—she even organizes her organizer, color codes it. If she didn't pick me up, didn't call, it means she's in trouble. And there's more too." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, searching for something on the device.

Steve frowned, "Not that I don't want to help Doyle, but why come here, why not go to HPD?"

"That's the thing sir. When she didn't show I went to her apartment. She runs every morning, but she's got a bum knee—I figured maybe she hurt herself. I thought—she lives alone; maybe she couldn't get to the phone. This is what I found." He handed the device to Chin, who opened the pictures the man had brought up on the big screen. The first image was of a busted door, the hinges clearly kicked in, and then the smashed window and trashed apartment. "I was about to call the police when I saw this." He reached forward and moved to the next picture. It was of the bathroom, just as trashed as the living room, pieces of the mirror scattered around the sink. Someone had lifted the cover off the toilet's water tank and propped it up against the wall. Inside written in red lipstick, was the message. 'McGarrett. 5-0.' "So you see I figured I'd try here first."

Chapter 2: "Night has always pushed up day…"

Danny stared at the message for a minute then snorted. "And super seal luck strikes again."

"What?" Doyle asked, unsure. "What does that mean?"

The blonde detective glared at his partner. "It means no paperwork."

Steve elbowed the shorter man in the ribs. "It doesn't mean anything. Can I ask, why exactly would your sister ask for a special task force? Or for me by name? What does she do? Navy? Government?"

"No, nothing like that. That's what I don't understand. My sister's a researcher— a historian and an ecologist. She doesn't do anything that serious, nothing anyone would hurt her for anyway."

Kono smiled at the clearly upset man. "Hey, this may be nothing, case of mistaken identity. We won't assume anything if we don't know anything. Maybe it wasn't even her in the apartment. Let's just get the basics. What's your sister's full name?"

"Kara Margaret Doyle. 29 years old. She's 5'5'', brown eyes, blond hair," he picked up his phone again, "I have a picture here somewhere."

"And she works on the island?"

Doyle nodded. "Yes, with the Park Service. She creates 'interpretive lessons'—whatever that means. I think that she's the one who makes those games kids play on field trips? Oh and she trains rangers to read a site—it's history and stuff—with the artifacts and buildings. She travels a lot, doing that. I'm actually surprised she even has an apartment—normally she just sleeps out of hotels or at a friend's."

"She doesn't have a place to live?"

The young man shook his head. "She owns a boat—a live aboard sailboat—but it's docked in Panama City back in the states. She doesn't travel in it."

The head of the Five O looked at Chin, nodding toward the computer. "If she works for NPS she's got a government file—let's see what's in it, get a picture for an APB and a report." Chin's fingers flew over the keys, quickly pulling up the NPS website and gaining access to their database. Steve turned back to their victim's brother. "What's up with the toilet? Was it like that when you got there?"

"No. No I lifted it up—I don't really know why, I know I shouldn't have touched anything." He looked bashful, glancing apologetically at the team. "I just... when we were kids she'd hide stuff in there, in plastic bags. Candy, notes, pictures… anything she didn't want our parents finding."

Danny nodded. "So when she was missing…"

"I just thought there might be a clue or something. I don't know." He found the picture he was looking for and handed it to McGarrett then the man retrieved his cigarettes, looking at them as if they had answers. "I promised her I'd quit."

"Hey boss," Chin interrupted the man's sad musings. "You may want to take a look at this." He brought up Kara Doyle's NPS record. Other than the name and photo the whole thing was blank, personnel information blocked out by the words: SECURITY CLEARENCE REQUIRED. INSUFFICIANT CLEARENCE FOR DATA RELEASE.

Steve stared at page for a moment, his face going white. Then he looked down at the phone photo, muttering under his breath. "Oh damn. Damn…Kara." A thousand possibilities passed through his mind as he stared at the smiling girl posing next to a Christmas tree.

Doyle looked at the screen and then the Seal, confused. "Wait, what's happening? Why is my sister's file closed?" He narrowed his eyes at McGarrett. "You acted like you didn't know her, what is this?"

Steve closed his eyes for a minute then spoke to the group. "Your sister's going to be fine kid—we're taking this case. Kono—take Doyle to a hotel, get his statement on the way. Anything you can remember about the conversation you last had would be helpful." He handed the man a pen. "Write the address of the apartment down please." Once he had the pad back he gave it to Chin. "Call HPD, tell them to get some guys down there to secure the scene—but not to go in. At all. Danny, with me." He shook Doyle's hand once more before heading to his office, leaving behind a confused group, his partner trailing behind him.

"Steve? Steven!" Danny closed the door behind them, worried at the seals unusual actions. "What's going on? You know that woman?"

"Yeah… Yeah I know her—she's a CIA field analyst." He locked eyes with Danny. "Which means if we don't find her ASAP, all sorts of hell is going to rain down on us, courtesy of the US government."

Danny sighed. "Well, that's just fantastic."

Chapter 3: "You must know life to see decay, but I won't rot, I won't rot…"

1430 hrs. Oahu Docks Warehouse 17.

Kara Doyle shifted on the ground, careful to shield her movements from the men watching her. She'd managed to snatch up and hide a piece of broken mirror in her shoe during the brief encounter at her apartment and was now using it to hack slowly at the rope binding her wrists. The shard had cut pretty badly into her foot while she was unconscious but the pain was helping her to focus. They'd tied her hands behind her back, so she knew they knew she was slightly dangerous but so far they'd left her alone, other than walking over occasionally to check that she was still and present.

Even as the edge bit slowly into her bonds she knew it was pretty useless. They were six men in the warehouse with her, and apart from it being a cliché hideout, it was pretty impossible for her to take on that many people in her condition. She was an analyst, a researcher, not some Bond character. It had been years since she was in the field—months since she'd had a decent workout. Hell even four guys would have probably been pushing it. She paused for a minute, breathing heavily through her nose, her gagged mouth making it impossible to gather all the oxygen she needed. She had a concussion, most likely from the gun that had slammed into her temple earlier. Even as she took in the air, using the deep breaths to keep from passing out, she wanted to vomit. Lying beside her, decaying in fluids was the dead body of a dock worker, most likely the poor soul responsible for checking this warehouse.

The smell coming off the body was terrible, especially in the Hawaiian heat, and it was all Kara could do not to hurl as she accidentally glanced at the small pool of blood, feces, and body matter that had seeped from the body and was slowly edging closer the longer she laid here.

She wanted to pass out but knew it wasn't an option. The blond knew better than to assume someone would be coming. The Company was sure to make someone pay for her death, that was sure, but whether or not a rescue was in order was doubtful. She kept on rubbing at the ropes desperately. She may not be able to do anything at the moment, but if the opportunity presented itself… she wasn't going to become the next body rotting on the floor.

Same time. Kara Doyle's apartment, Midtown, Oahu.

"So what the hell is going on Steven?" Danny lifted up a book from the floor. The apartment looked like someone had done their best to create overcompensating damage, without searching for anything in particular. "This is pretty meaningless destruction for a purposeful attack."

Steve moved from the bedroom back into the living room where the rest of his team was waiting, glancing around to make sure no HPD was inside. "You know, the more I look at this room, the less I think this has to do with anything CIA?" He was holding up a small brown leather book. "If these guys knew Kara was with the agency, they would have been after this, and yet the bedroom has barely been touched."

Kono reached out, taking the small book from him and flipping through the pages, confusion on her face as she attempted to read the confusing cipher. "What is this thing? It looks like a newspaper jumble—without the clues." She passed the book to Chin and Danny.

Steve cleared his throat, "Analysts aren't like agents. An agent doesn't keep notes—an analyst does—and that's what these are, notes. They're basically researchers, running on-site background checks on areas, cultures, people… the information that military personnel receive before deploying into an area is usually compiled from intelligence data. The information is coded, and at the end of mission the agent uses a key to decide the data and file a classified report, allowing them to destroy any field notes. Skilled, experienced analysts like Kara usually double as handlers as well." He took another look around, carefully looking for any other clues his old acquaintance may have left. "That's what she was doing last time we met—she supervised a case I was working with the CIA. She, Catherine, and I worked off the Roosevelt for a few months, trying to track down weapons shipments."

Stepping over some glass, Danny bent down, picking up a fallen photo, the frame smashed. He showed it to the group. "You're telling me this girl, Miss Bangs here, works for the CIA tracking down illegal arms sales? She has bangs McGarrett—she looks like Gracie's kindergarten teacher!" Steve peered at the picture. Sure enough Kara was sporting a large fringe across her forehead, partially covering her large eyes. She did look rather innocent.

"I'll admit, she's not a 'SuperSEAL'," he glared at Danny, "but don't let the haircut fool you. Last time I saw her she could hold her own, mentally, if not physically. She earned commendations working drug runners in Mexico and Panama—that's not exactly fluff work."

Even Kono, who admittedly didn't know all that much about crime outside of the islands, looked suitably impressed. "So what's a CIA agent who specializes in drugs doing in Hawaii?"

Danny snorted. "Well I'd say we certainly have enough drugs coming through here to warrant an investigation."

"No." Steve shook his head. "The CIA can't take action inside the states. They're foreign intelligence gatherers—if drugs were moving inside Hawaii it should have been a DEA or FBI case. Unless…" He pulled out his phone.

"Unless what?" Danny threw up his hands. "I hate it when you do this. Finish a thought!" Chin and Kono shared a look and the older cousin stepped outside to talk to the HPD officers outside. Danny continued to rant. "It's not like all of our brains work quite as quickly as yours you know. Not to mention your radical leaps to conclusions are usually just insanity—seriously, I think we should have a discussion with some sort of psychiatrist-"

"Danny!" Steve shouted. His brief conversation was over and he wasn't in the mood to listen to his partners usually amusing rants. "That was Catherine-"

His partner smirked, "Of course it was."

Steve sent a sharp look at the detective. "As I was saying—Catherine says that Kara was pulled off of the drug cartels about a year ago and she hasn't heard from her since. She thinks that she was flagged and pulled for a CI position." Chin walked back, looking ruffled—probably from a less than positive conversation with his old co-workers.

"CI?"

The former SEAL looked worried. "Counter Intelligence. Basically Internal Affairs for spies—except they're not investigating takes—more like terrorist sympathizers and traitors."

"Get this brah," Chin pitched in, "apparently early this morning, around 9:30, one of the neighbors called 911, claiming there was a disturbance at this address but right before the dispatch could send a car out someone called back, saying there had been a mistake and not to bother."

"Let me guess," Danny rolled his eyes, "the call came from a different number, but HPD didn't check at the time and no one bothered to drive by anyway."

The taller native inclined his head. "Bingo."

"So now, due to HD's infuriating 'if we don't see it, it never happened policy' we have a CIA agent, probably privy to some damning info on a traitorous spook, missing for over five hours with no clues and an extremely small window to figure out what exactly is happening."

Steve sighed. "And before we left I phoned the governor—this is priority, but we have to treat it like it's a regular kidnapping, at least officially. If HPD finds out anything about this then Kara's cover is blown and she'll never do field work again."

The Jersey native sighed. "Great, now I not only have to worry about the damage you inflict, Captain America, but about what the Justice League is going to do if Wonder Woman dies. Perfect."