Author's Note: Usually, I don't write fan fiction for shows that are still in production, but this story has been begging me to write it for the past few months (probably because the hubby and I binge-watched the whole series as far as we could on Netflix and then the CBS app until we caught up a few weeks ago). I know that what I've written will clash with the upcoming season 8, but I had to write it anyway, and I hope you will enjoy the story as much as I enjoy the story-crafting. Assumptions I am making after the Season 7 finale: Steve will have to take some time off or at least scale back while dealing with his radiation sickness, and Kono will return. Now that summer is coming (ahh, the delight of a bone-tired teacher!), I will try to update twice a month, but I am also working on two other stories and I am preparing to travel to Ukraine to work at youth camps for a few weeks in June/July, so there may be some delays.

Thank you to Kat Bybee for serving as my Beta reader and to my son for being my research consultant (I think he's as excited as I am about this). Your help and encouragement is invaluable!

Disclaimers: 1) I do not own any of the 5-0 characters, but they somehow got inside my head and started talking, so I had to start writing. I make no money from this, I promise. 2) I am neither a doctor nor a Navy SEAL, and I am not on any elite crime-fighting task force. I do love research and I strive for accuracy, but I can and do make mistakes. If you see something that is beyond the bounds of creative license, please let me know in a kind and constructive manner so that I may correct it. 3) I love studying languages and when I can, I will, to the best of my ability, use bits and pieces of other languages in my story to help create the atmosphere I want. I will always include a glossary at the beginning of the chapter. I can only claim a decent level of fluency in English (my native tongue) and German. If you are familiar with a language I use here and see a mistake, please let me know and I will correct it. Thank you!

Glossary (Russian to English)

Vy zakonchili skanirovaniye…? - Have you completed your scan…?

Lyudmila Mikhailovna; Andrei Vasil'yevich – These are examples of formal Russian address, using the given name and the patronymic (a name indicating "daughter of" or "son of"). In this case, "Daughter of Michael" and "Son of Basil."

Imyarek - a Russian version of John Doe

Prodolzhayetye – continue

Varvary – barbarians

Spasibo – Thank you

Antiseptic smell… can't move… body numb… far away voices… hospital? No, doesn't feel right… Why can't I open my eyes? Wait… what language is that? Try to fight… try to get away… Please… no…! Awareness fades… nothing….

"Vy zakonchili skanirovaniye, Lyudmila Mikhailovna?" A slender man wearing a white lab coat and a tall white cap peered over the shoulder of his colleague, a heavy-set woman similarly clad, at the patient stretched out on the exam table.

"Yes, Andrei Vasil'yevich," the woman responded, likewise in Russian. "There are no tracking devices. He started coming to, but I sedated him again. He should be out for another four hours."

"Catalogue." Andrei Vasil'yevich Orlov took a pen from the breast pocket of his lab coat and prepared to write notes on the patient's file. At the top, he scrawled the name, Imyarek. "Injuries?"

Lyudmila Mikhailovna Ivanova "Probable concussion from a severe blow to the occiput—it could be fractured and may cause visual disturbance. Patient requires an MRI."

Orlov scoffed as he made the notation. "You are no longer in your St. Petersburg clinic, Doctor. We have no such equipment. Continue."

Ivanova sighed. "Open fracture of the left humerus with radial nerve involvement. Appears to be at least a week old, but has been left untreated. Deep laceration below the right eye, approximately six centimeters. Sutures are contraindicated at this time. Numerous minor lacerations and contusions. Patient appears to have been beaten before he was sent to us." She shook her head and muttered under her breath, "Varvary."

Orlov ignored her. "Prodolzhayetye," he said. "If you are done with injuries, move on to identifying marks." He started a new column of notes, scribbling the header, then poising the pen above the paper while he waited for his colleague to proceed.

"Large tattoo on each bicep… a scar from previous abdominal surgery…" She ran through a litany of the patient's many scars, and finally fell silent.

"Spasibo, Lyudmila Mikhailovna."

"Do you know anything about our patient, Doctor?" Ivanova asked.

Orlov opened the file and glanced through it. "Only what our North Korean friends disclosed here, and that doesn't even include a name—Prisoner #58326, arrested as a spy, incited a riot among his fellow prisoners in the camp in Kwaechon, saved at the last moment from execution for reasons unstated, and sent here to spend the rest of his life enjoying our fine accommodations." That last comment was accompanied by a wry twist of his lips. "Our supplies, as you know, are limited. We do the best we can with what we have—keep that in mind as you treat him. If he dies, all the easier for him; if he lives, we'll eventually release him for work detail."

"Should we not try to discover his identity?" Dr. Ivanova asked. "Surely his people are looking for him."

Orlov arched his eyebrows. "He is a man without a country, Lyudmila Mikhailovna," he stated. "He has no people. We are bound by our nation's contractual agreements with North Korea to keep him here and put him to work, sending his pay to Pyongyang just as we do with all the other workers. Now, do your job and let me get on with mine." He placed the prisoner's chart on a rickety desk and stepped out of the exam room without another word.

Doctor Ivanova leaned over her patient and whispered near his ear. "I wondered why I was exiled to this wasteland—now I know. I am here to do whatever it takes to get you home. Rest well and heal. I will do all that I can for you."

Danny paced the floor of Steve's office, muttering in frustration. Joe White stood to the side, his arms crossed, his face devoid of emotion. Kono and Chin stood in the doorway, eyes wide with shock. Lou and Jerry were absent, the former visiting his parents on the mainland while the latter was home sick with the flu. Catherine Rollins, who had accompanied Joe to the Palace, sat on Steve's sofa, her face pale and streaked with tears, her eyes still moist. She never stopped loving him, Danny thought suddenly, a surge of anger passing through him at the thought of what Steve had suffered because she couldn't settle down and stay in one place. "Spill it, Joe! What do you mean, we've lost Steve?!" He wanted to throw something, punch somebody, or maybe just wrap his hands around Joe's neck and squeeze, because he'd lay odds that Joe was responsible for this somehow.

"Breathe, Danny," Joe said quietly. "You're of no help to anyone if you can't control your emotions."

Danny rubbed at the bridge of his nose as he took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Fine. I'm calm. Now answer my question. What do you mean, we've lost Steve? Last thing he told me, he was going on an extended vacation with an old friend. Now that he's over most of the effects of the radiation poisoning, he needed a little time to relax and recharge before he returns to full duty here."

"I can't go into a lot of detail," Joe explained. "The operation Steve was part of is highly classified and the vacation was his cover."

At the word "classified," Danny rolled his eyes. He'd heard it repeatedly from Steve before and it never failed to rankle him.

Joe ignored the detective's frustration. "I've already told you more than I should have. I'm here because I made a promise to Steve that… that if something happened, I would tell his Five-0 ohana the truth, that I would give his last message to you all. Like I said, the vacation story was a cover. Steve volunteered for a mission in North Korea that was crucial to our national security. The mission was a success, but Steve was captured and charged with espionage. He knew from the get-go that if he was compromised in any way, our government would have no choice but to disavow all knowledge of his activities there—it was a risk he accepted. My sources informed me yesterday that he was interred two weeks ago in a labor camp in Kwaechon, where he was then blamed for a riot among the prisoners. He has since been moved, but my source does not know where."

Danny frowned as he sat down on Steve's sofa and rested his head in his hands. The thought of his best friend in a labor camp, forsaken by the very country he had served for so many years, was physically painful to him. He looked up at Joe, blinking back the tears he felt forming. "We can't just leave him there," he said hoarsely. "What am I supposed to tell Grace and Charlie? They'll never forgive me if I don't do something to bring their favorite uncle back. C'mon, Joe. This isn't like you. Once upon a time, you'd have been the first one on the plane to go after him." He decided to drive the knife a little deeper. "I thought Steve was like a son to you."

Joe sighed, his emotions finally starting to break through his stoic exterior. "I wish I could tell you something different, Danny. This isn't like the time we rescued him from Wo Fat. Steve is in the government's hands this time. A rescue mission would be suicidal. They are never going to let him go. In a few days, you will receive word that Steve was killed in a climbing accident in the Alps, that his body was unrecoverable. This is what you have to tell Grace and Charlie."

Danny stepped towards Joe, fury burning in his eyes. "And I'm supposed to be satisfied with that? Lie to my kids, pretend he's dead, and let it go?!"

"By now, he probably is dead." Joe's eyes glistened, and Danny knew this had affected the gruff older SEAL more than he was willing to let on.

Catherine let out a soft moan. Kono moved swiftly to her side and hugged her, but Danny felt no sympathy. If she had just given him a chance to propose… if she had said yes… he never would have volunteered for this mission. He felt a brief pang of guilt for blaming her, but he pushed it aside. He was angry and he wanted to stay angry. Catherine had no right, spurning Steve the way she did and then waltzing in here all grief-stricken like this. "You said you had a last message for us," he growled. "Give it to us, and then get out, both of you."

Joe pulled a battered envelope from inside his jacket and thrust it at Danny. "There. Take it." He patted Catherine on the shoulder, murmured gently to her, and then helped her to her feet. "I wish I could have come with better news," he said to them all as he guided her to the door. "I'm… sorry."