Disclaimer: The character within this body of work belongs to CBS and its holding companies. This was created for fun and no money was earned or expected from its creation.
He stood on the heli pad, duffle at his feet, waiting on the deck dogs as they finished filling the Blackhawk. He was on the second leg of a journey that for once, he didn't want to take. It was still so surreal to him, the mission to bring in Anton Hesse, the phone call that effectively left his family tree looking more like a divining stick than a real tree. Hell, the gunshot would still be ricocheting around his mind, if he allowed his brain the opportunity to slow enough to let it. Surreal and so fucking futile, really.
And now here he was at the United States military installation in the Philippines, watching a helicopter being gassed to fly him away from his team, his mission. It was Davison that had called their commanding officer, General Sherraton. The General set the ball rolling with a round of calls to Honolulu and the various individuals that needed to be in the loop in the vast network of the U.S. Armed Services. Now, with the aid of the General, the team he was leaving behind, the countless men and women of the U.S. military, and not to mention the thousands of dollars in military equipment and man hours, Steve was on his way back to a place where he hasn't been wanted for years.
As the fuel vapors caused the air in the vicinity around the Blackhawk to wave and shimmer, he paused, squinting up at the late afternoon sun to contemplate the coming journey. Once he threw in with this crew, they would carry him to an aircraft carrier stationed in the Northern Marianas, where there was another military installation. From there he would be flown via an U.S. Air Force jet to a second carrier on the edge of international waters just outside of Honolulu. It would be quick helicopter lift from there on into the military base at Pearl Harbor.
The logistics would be baffling to most, but his years of service in Naval Intelligence had honed his brain to what was needed to make these arrangements. He was being leapfrogged east across the Pacific Ocean with such finesse and such ease, just to lay eyes on a single man. A man that no matter how hard Steve had tried in the past to get close to, had resisted twice as hard to keep his distance.
This wasn't the first trip back to Hawaii for him since his dad had put him on that plane back in 1996. Now eighteen long years ago. More than half his life. It was a long time to stay away, especially if you've never been given the answers to any of the questions you've been asking for years, especially if you're a McGarrett. No, he's tried to go back to Hawaii before, four times to be exact. But this time it would be different; because this time he was actually being asked to come.
"Lieutenant Commander?" Steve looked up when he heard his name. "We're ready for you sir."
He nodded at each crew member in turn as the Staff Sergeant who had called for him, introduced each of them. He knew that he should have been more aware and taken the time to match the face to the name, but he doubted that he would ever see any of these soldiers again.
As the crewmen returned to their assignments aboard the monstrous helicopter, Steve stowed his duffle and climbed up into his seat. He secured his harness as the huge blades started to gain speed above him. The sergeant handed him the in-flight ear protection, which he snapped on in time to hear some of the basic in-flight instruction, directives he had heard before, several times over in fact. He settled back and watched as the ground started to fall away below him.
He had worked with Army before, usually Rangers or Delta, where it was always a bit of a pissing match. This crew was different though, they didn't seem to want to engage him in that manner; it was if he was merely another piece of cargo needing to be delivered. A highly regarded piece of cargo, Steve noted to himself, based upon the proper decorum the team was exhibiting on his behalf. Steve thought that if this trip wasn't already so troubling, he might actually enjoy the respect his rank and position was getting from the air crew. But there was just too much circling around in his mind to want to even open his mouth.
He spotted the shadow of the oversized copter as it passed over some of the lesser islands of the Philippines. It grew smaller, the higher they flew. From this height the scenery below could pass for Hawaii, or at least his memories of Hawaii. The dense, lush green interior of the islands were sporadically surrounded by the broad expanses of sandy beaches which in turn bled into the blue-green water of the ocean. So many of the thousands of islands that dotted the Pacific could pass for his former home, but they all lacked one thing. His past.
He listened to the chatter of the crewmen over the com, but he wasn't concentrating on the conversations as they swept across the bright blue cloudless sky. His mind was back in 1998; aboard a 747 inbound for Honolulu International. It was would be his first trip back home since his mother's death. Steve knew that if he tried even right at this very moment, he couldn't be absolutely sure whose idea it had been, he only remembered it being ingenious at the time. He would be able go home; see his friends, his dad. It was probably the last time I thought of Hawaii as home, Steve reflected as he adjusted his sunglasses against the glare coming in the Blackhawk's windows.
Weary of the cold winters on the east coast, he and his buddies Dave, Lance, and Casey had planned a winter break getaway to escape to the sandy beaches of Oahu for a long weekend. They were all in their final year of high school and the anticipation for their futures had been surging through them like a live current of electricity. While the guys went on and on about the bars they would storm, the waves they would dominate and the girls they would bag, Steve had tried to join in, to be as excited as they were, but the growing uncertainty of seeing his dad for the first time since he left had been a viscous entity, steadily gnawing at his gut. Steve placed a hand within his flight jacket, beneath the harness as though the feral feeling was returning.
He had called from the airport then, before they boarded and again when they landed, but there had been no answer at home. They had had fun, he and the guys, but there was always a bit of frustration that had blanketed his own experiences of the trip. He had called a few more times during those first few days, each time the feeling of animosity within would grow stronger with every unanswered call. Finally on the day before they were to leave, Steve remembered how he had had enough and marched into the police department and all but demanded to see his father. The disappointment that had coursed through him when the desk sergeant had informed him that Det. Jack McGarrett was over on another island as part of an investigation, would follow him for days to come.
He had tried the house next; it looked the same as it had the day they had driven away from it two years prior. There was still a tangible bitterness deep within his core, even today, when he thought about the hibiscus beside the front door. Such a stupid thing to hold a grudge about, bright flowers swaying in the ocean breeze. It had been his job to take care of the yard when he lived there. That last day of his trip he just stood there and stared; the hibiscus looked just as brilliant and vivacious as they had two years ago when he last saw them. They had continued to flourish without him.
He knew better than to try the locks that day. If his dad was off the island, the house would be locked tighter than a bank vault. He had always been a stickler for it. Steve had walked around the property, just looking and feeling the anger starting to build. He remembered now, how that indignation had festered within him, how it burned hot and bright at the idea that his dad was purposefully avoiding him. As he stood on the beach behind the house, Steve remembered looking over his shoulder at the numerous empty windows time and again. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone had been watching him. It was a skin crawling feeling that he had carried with him from the house back to the hotel. Thinking on it now, he couldn't sure, but that someone had been following him, all the way to the airport the next day.
"Sir? E.T.A. ten minutes. There should be no delays, sir, and you should be airborne again in thirty."
Steve looked around for someone looking at him, someone he could match with the disembodied voice over the com. His eyes finally landed on the Staff Sergeant who had handled the introductions earlier looking back at him, he nodded his assertion.
Staring out the window of the Blackhawk, he watched as the few low clouds they encountered, would break apart around them as the blades cut heavily through the air. He could feel the weariness that comes after an adrenaline spike starting to well and truly settle into his joints. It had only taken a little over four hours to get from the convoy and his team in South Korea to the air base in the Philippines. Now nearly ninety minutes later he was closing in on his second touchdown of the day. He rubbed beneath his aviators at the tiredness trying to settle in his eyes; Hesse had called less than seven hours ago.
"Once you strap in, sir, we'll be off. We'll be in flight roughly two, two and a half hours, barring any inclement weather. If you don't mind an observation, sir?" The pilot, a second lieutenant in the U.S. Air Force waited until Steve looked at him. "Your flight time may go quicker with a cat nap. Get a little rest while you can, sir."
Steve nodded. It was a good idea, but he doubted that he would find the comfort of sleep any time in the near future. He climbed into the second seat of the cockpit and accepted his duffle from the airman; stowing it at his feet, he set about tightening the harness straps. One hundred and twenty minutes or so, until they landed near Hawaii, he thought, and probably another hour after that roughly until touch down in Pearl Harbor. He could feel his throat constricting slightly at the thought.
The take-off was as smooth as it ever was. Steve remembered the first time he had boarded a plane atop an aircraft carrier. It had been his second trip to the islands since he was sixteen. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't return until his father invited him, but the Navy had no reason to take his personal relationships into consideration when they deployed him. Feeling the power of the jet beneath him slicing through the afternoon sky, Steve rested his head against the neck rest, letting the vibrations lull him into his memories.
He had been assigned aboard his first ship, a supercarrier, as a twenty-three year-old Ensign and sailed out of port in San Diego en route for Pearl Harbor. He had graduated his Midshipman First Class at the top of his class, an honor which allowed him a few more options in assignments. It was sometime in his second year, Steve remembered making a decision that would shape his life to come. He had talked to a SEAL for the first time; really talked to him and knew that he had found his niche. From then on, he focused all his energy on information technology and following the global political landscape. Well, all the energy that wasn't already being expended on molding his body into the strongest weapon possible. He felt a weak smile growing as he stared through the scratched windscreen that separated him from the darkening sky. He had thought he was in peak physical shape then. But it was nothing compared to what he was now.
The smile lasted for a few seconds before it slipped from his face in the remembrance of his current objective. He swallowed dryly, wishing for a drink to numb the sharpness in his heart. He hadn't wanted to be sent to Hawaii at first, but then the desire for his dad to see him as a commissioned officer in the U.S. Navy, to see him as a man, blossomed in his soul. He never made it to the base. Word had come down that there was a need for several seamen to replace the injured aboard a different carrier in the Persian Gulf. So it was with both excitement and disappointment that he winged away from the islands again; this time without ever setting a foot on the hot volcanic sand.
Steve spent a several long minutes think of that first posting, of how he had had to swallow down his nerves and have faith in himself and his training, praying that it had prepared him for the unknown that was the Middle East. It would be nineteen months before any ship he was on, would dock in Pearl Harbor.
Steve tried then, to shift minutely beneath the cumbersome quad strap of the seat in the tight cockpit. It made him glad yet again, that his grandfather had opted to join the Navy rather than the Air Force. While he could pilot his own aircraft if the need was called for, but he much preferred the openness of the water to that of the sky. He ran the numbers through his head, figuring that they were a little less than halfway to the final rallying point of his journey. It had been only hours ago when the shot practically deafened him through the phone, but it seemed a lifetime. He thought of the time that had seemed as though it were a lifetime; standing on the deck of the U.S.S. Ronald Regan as it steamed into port in Honolulu.
He, as well as many of the other men and women, had been granted a two-day shore leave; enough time to paint the town red, so to speak. But as he stood with the other sailors, nearly all dressed in their best civilian garb; he again felt the gnawing of anxiety building up within. It was the tail end of his last posting before he was slotted to begin his Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training back in Virginia next month. It was also to be his last time to see his boyhood home, for how long, was anybodies guess.
So he stood. One of many, watching as the harbor lights grew dim in the rising sun, listening to final instructions on the integrity and moral standards of being a member of the U.S. Navy and with a final salute, they had been released to see what kind of mischief they could rain down upon the island. Steve pushed a hand under the left shoulder of his harness, trying to ease the pressure. He knew it wasn't really the tightly woven nylon causing his current discomfort, but he fumbled at the strap anyway. He remembered watching his fellow sailors rush down the gangway, wanting so badly to follow in the same carefree spirit. In the end though, knowing that he was not in a place to deal with the deluded and unsettling memories of his former home, he had walked back to his berth and settled in for the next two days, reading the SEAL Qualification Training manual.
Looking out at the black eastern sky as it stretched to engulf them, Steve closed his eyes and concentrated briefly on the feeling of movement all around him, as they flew high and hasty for no reason other than to reach a destination he never wanted to reach. He could hear the sneer in Hesse's voice as it plagued his subconscious, the repugnance in his tone, sharp and brittle. Steve knew that the man was as vindictive as his brother had been, so he shouldn't have allowed himself to be drawn in, to be manipulated by the bastards. But it was his dad's voice, the pain evident in the tone, if not the words, that made him get on that first helicopter out of South Korea. He couldn't be there for him in life, but he wouldn't let him be lowered down into the ground alone.
His dad had sounded scared. Steve had never heard that in his voice before. Happy or content was how he usually sounded in Steve's youth. Sure he had an angry tone, when eleven year-old Steve and his friends had broken one of the glass doors that led to the lanai with a poorly aimed soccer ball, but it didn't last long. His dad's voice had flattened with the despondent tone of sadness as Steve stood on his right and Mary on his left as he watched his wife being buried. These past few years it had seemed completely detached, distant. Stretching his neck in the limited space the straps allowed, Steve let his dad's voice reverberate within his skull. The words bouncing erratically along with the vibrations his neck rest. He could recognize now, hours later, that it wasn't just fear, but also regret that blanketed each and every utterance. Steve honestly believed that if he were the cry sort, he would be sobbing right now.
"Lieutenant Commander McGarrett? We will be touching down in less than twenty minutes, sir, if you need to prepare yourself." The pilot had spoken quickly to him, before returning to his communications with the carrier they were liaising with.
Steve tried a meditation technique that he had picked up in Laos; to steady himself for the duration of this part of the trip. He calmed his breathing and regulated it to his heartbeat. He closed eyes to the horizon; looking within for the place of refuge he sought. He opened them quickly as his breath caught harshly beneath his ribs. Time to get a new meditation destination he thought uncomfortably. The glorious vista of brilliant greens and rocky outcroppings with a hint of the dark blue ocean in the far off distance held too many memories of his father. He doubted that he would ever go there again, even if he visited the island every year for the rest of his life, Steve was positive that the recollections of hiking with his dad across the Hawaiian landscape would prove too painful to ever recreate.
"There's our ship, sir, off the right wing." Steve turned his head to see the lights of the carrier, glowing a somber welcome.
While the U.S. Military operated on most days as a well oiled machine, Steve acknowledged to himself that sometimes unforeseen circumstances occurred, causing delays. He understood his place and knew that his current expedition, while not planned could and should be preempted at a moment's notice if such circumstances arose. It was because of this understanding that he found himself in a shower cubicle below deck, letting the lukewarm water wash away several days' worth of sweat and grime. The helicopter that was supposed to ferry him on into the harbor, had been deployed an hour before they landed, to aid in the rescue of a tourist vessel in trouble off the coast of Maui. They had since received word that the trip had been successful and the Blackhawk, was en route back to the carrier. But they had already secured a seat aboard a Naval Airborne plane, that was already scheduled to head into Hickham Airfield that day.. They were finishing fueling it up now. With some time to kill, he had taken the advice of the Lieutenant that had greeted him on deck and had decided to freshen up.
The spasmodic clenching in the pit of his stomach continued to plague him, as he watched the lather escape down the drain. This was the closest he had been to the islands in over seven years. With the SEALs it was fairly easy to stay away, as his particular skillset wasn't exactly in great demand on free soil. This trip, he thought with a heavy heart, was going to be about as fun as his last one. Only difference was that the last time he was here, it had been his choice.
He had been twenty-six, sporting a new insignia upon his uniform, one that classified him as a SEAL; one of his few dreams fulfilled. The team, Bullfrog, Johnson, Tigs and the other guys were all taking their week long leave on the road to Bali and at first he had agreed to go with them. It sounded like fun, a week spent filled with booze and debauchery, how could he possibly refuse. But as the date grew closer Steve remembered how he knew he wouldn't enjoy the reprieve from the action they had all just seen. It may not have been the exact date or week even of his mom's death, but it was the month that marked ten years since he had last seen her. No, there was no way he could go and cut loose with the team, he remembered thinking at the time.
He had only spent a day and a night on Oahu then; he had caught a ride in with a cargo plane and would fly back out with them the next morning. He had called the station and left a message for his dad, one that he regretted the minute he relayed it, but he tried not to let it bother him. All he had told the desk sergeant was that he was on the island for less than twenty-four hours and that he was going to visit his mom. He could hear the confusion in the poor man's voice, but he merely continued and asked him to tell his father hello for him. He knew then, just as he did now, that he had to touch base with his family. Even if they would never know or even if they did know that he was there.
He winced slightly now, at the sting of soap in his eyes. He had spent that afternoon seven years ago, just sitting by his mother's marker, telling her of all his accomplishments. A sorry act, he was sure, but it made him feel better at the time. That was when he remembered believing that she was up there somewhere watching over him. That was before he had been jaded into disbelief by all the evil that he had witnessed man do to one another. He remembered that skin tingling again as he returned to base, but he had thought that he was older and wiser that time and never looked back. An act he found himself regretting deep down.
"Twenty till take off, Lieutenant Commander." The voice echoed against the empty basins and cubicles in the room. He heard the metal hatch door as it slammed closed again.
Steve rushed through the rest of his ministrations and redressed rapidly. Hustling, he tucked his belongings as tidily as possible back into his duffle and after lacing up his boots, followed the voice a mere five minutes later.
His shoulders felt pinched and achy as he cinched the harness straps over them. Third time today, he thought blithely. Soon though, soon he would be able to step back onto solid earth and not be tied to anything. He could feel the adrenaline starting to creep into his system, causing him to feel the agitation of the situation prickling across his skin. This last bit of travel already seemed to be the slowest he had experienced since yesterday afternoon. It was hard to fathom that less than twelve hours ago he had heard his dad say he was proud of him and he called him 'champ'. He wondered if his father was feeling the lost time as acutely as he was and had grown sentimental in his words. He closed his eyes at the ache forming behind them. He could feel the sorrow taking hold of his lungs, squeezing them roughly against his ribs.
He opened his eyes again and watched as the soft peach hue in the east took on a brilliant orange quality and chased the band of lavender night right towards them. It was a new day. A day in which he would see again the man that had guided him and unknowingly shaped into what he was today, a morally upstanding defender of freedom and an honor bound citizen of the United States. It is a day that is dawning clear and bright, bringing with it the terrible realization that he is now a fatherless son.
He held his breath as the Naval pilot eased the plane down onto the runway. He wrestled the sense of dread back down, deep within. He has to be strong. He unhooked his harness and waited for the door to be opened. Steve grabbed his duffle and headed towards the Captain that was apparently waiting for them. Waiting for him.
"Lieutenant Commander McGarrett. Welcome home to Hawaii, sir. I am sorry to hear about your father." The Captain stated as he snapped a proper salute and then shook Steve's hand "We all are."
"Thank you, sir." Steve spoke in a soft clip as they turned towards the offices. Me, too, sir. He added to himself. Me, too.
A/N: I am thinking of doing companion pieces for the other members of Hawaii 5-0. Yea or Nay?
Also, I have never seen the pilot episode, blasphemy, I know. Actually I missed the first six episodes, sorry, if it is skewed. So if this is completely off base to how canon explains to us on how Steve returned home, please read it as an AU. Thanks. -stella