Kea akua lapu
By Cokie
~~~H50~~~
Chapter 4
Steve took a deep breath in the light afternoon breeze when they exited the building, thankful for the cooling effect of the air on his hot flesh. The normal afternoon rain had brought cooler temperatures to what had been a muggy day. He hadn't realized the office temps had been so stifling until he felt the wind on his face. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his keys, then looked at Grover, a bit embarrassed at the situation.
"Hey, I'm good. You don't… ah… need to follow me."
"Follow?" Lou pointed toward his own truck. "I'm driving."
"No, I'm taking my truck home. Left it here last night, but I need it at home."
"McGarrett—"
"Listen Lou, I'm fully capable of driving. I've got some kind of bug. It'll pass. I don't need a sitter."
"I didn't say you do, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. Go ahead and drive, but I'm following you. Like it or not, you're not getting rid of me that easily."
Steve nodded and tiredly went to his truck and climbed inside which was a task that he didn't feel should have zapped as much energy as it had. He sat there with both hands on the steering wheel trying to stop the tremors that were shaking him. He sighed, knowing Lou was probably watching his every move. Starting the truck, he backed out of the space and turned right onto the street, glancing in his mirror to see Lou on his bumper.
Great. Now I've got two watchdogs.
~~~H50~~~
Traffic was heavy in the afternoon rush hour, creeping along at a pace slower than a good walk. Steve just wanted to get home. His stomach was still doing somersaults and he knew it wouldn't be long before who- knows-what would make a second appearance. And with the stop-start-jolt-stop action of the truck causing the pain in his head to ratchet, it would be sooner than later.
After creeping for another couple of minutes, the traffic finally began to disappear. He idly wondered how all of a sudden, the cars managed to start moving again. There were no police cars, no accidents, no stalled vehicles… yet the traffic crept. He hit the gas and glanced in the rear view mirror and saw a white van cut between his and Grover's truck. A quick look out the right side mirror and he could see the passenger with what looked to be a sawed-off shotgun halfway out the window.
Shit. Steve reached for his weapon, only to realize it had been setting on his desk. He then remembered it was one of the items Grover was carrying when he met him in the hall. Belatedly Steve realized the other item in Lou's hand had been his cell phone. Why he hadn't demanded that Lou hand over both was beyond him. He obviously had been more out of it than he wanted to admit.
Glancing out both mirrors, Steve could see the driver and his passenger, both dressed in white, steadily remaining on his bumper. As the traffic spread out further, Steve took action. He hit the gas and swerved from the left into the right lane, the vehicle behind him mimicking his move. He quickly passed a minivan before cutting it off as he moved back into the left lane in time to take a sharp turn at the next intersection.
The tires squealed in protest from the quick change of directions and the back of the truck fish tailed into the left turn. A quick look in the rearview mirror showed that the white van was nowhere to be seen. Steve doubled back around the block and pulled back out onto Beretania, keeping an eye out for the vehicle as he headed in the direction of home.
He pulled into the drive to find Grover standing beside his own truck, his arms crossed over his ample chest and a scowl on his face. Steve slowed and parked behind the other truck and after taking a moment to calm down, slowly got out.
"What the hell was that?" Lou shouted.
"What?" Steve asked in irritation.
Grover waved his arms in a good imitation of Danny. "That… that crazy ass move where you scared the soccer mom half to death speeding around her car only to cut her off. And why the hell did you turn left when your house was this-a-way?"
"You didn't see the white van that cut you off?"
"Who cut me off? A van merged between us but it turned right just before you pulled your crazy stunt. I was behind you until you took off like a bat outta hell."
"The passenger in the van had a gun—"
"That passenger was a kid with his hockey stick hanging out the window," Grover yelled back.
"No, it… he…" Steve stopped talking. What had seemed so real earlier was fading from his memory. "I… the van…"
Lou saw the look of confusion cross Steve's features and plucked the keys from his friend's hand and headed toward the door. "Let's get inside. Not to be rude or anything, but you look like something the cat dragged in."
Steve realized his head was pounding to the beat of his heart and his stomach began to roll. He headed in the open door and straight for the bathroom without another word to Grover.
Several minutes later he stared at his expression in the bathroom mirror. Even he had to admit he was pale and the dark circles beneath his eyes didn't help his complexion any. It's a stomach bug he tried to assure himself, all the while willing his hands to stop shaking. He grabbed the sink with both hands when a wave of dizziness hit. He glanced in the mirror again once the wave passed, only to see himself twice in the reflection. He blinked and there was one of him. But behind his right shoulder stood the White Ghost, his mouth curled in a knowing sneer.
Steve jerked, knocking the bottle of liquid soap onto the floor. He turned only to find himself alone in the bathroom, the door still closed and locked. No one was there.
"Hey, you OK?" Lou's voice came from the other side of the door.
He quickly turned on the water and yelled out, "Yeah, be out in a minute."
Steve cupped his hands and splashed water on his face before drying his hands. Purposely not looking in the mirror again, he left the room.
~~~H50~~~
He found Grover in the kitchen adding coffee to the coffee maker on the counter. Tylenol and a bottle of water were setting on the island as a not-so-subtle hint. Without a word, Steve uncapped the bottle and downed three of the pills.
"You gonna lie down?" Grover asked.
"No… because it isn't my nap time, Lou," Steve shot back, glancing around the room. "Where's my SIG and phone?"
"The phone's on the table," Grover said, turning around to stare at Steve. "Why do you need your gun?"
Steve stared at him. He knew he couldn't tell his friend that a ghost was after him. As if you can kill a ghost with a gun anyway. "Lou?" His tone of voice and demeanor appeared non-negotiable.
"Upstairs in your bedroom, in the nightstand. I saw you put it there the last time I was here," the captain told him. "Since you don't want to sleep, want to sit outside?"
"Yeah, I guess," Steve replied. "You know, you don't—"
"I know, I know. I don't have to stay," Grover ended for him. "But I'm gonna, OK?"
"What about your family?"
"I called my wife from the truck on the way over. Told her I was helping out a friend. She's good with that. No questions asked."
Steve nodded and took his bottle of water and headed to the back lanai. Standing there, he longingly looked at the chairs near the water but decided that the distance wasn't worth it. He was tired and hurting so he dropped into a chaise on the lanai.
Lou leaned against the door jamb with his cup of coffee. "I don't suppose you would consider being checked out by a doctor?" he proposed.
Steve jerked his head around to glare at his friend, no need for a reply. But his glare lost its needed oomph when he had to blink rapidly trying to clear up the dizziness his movement caused. He quickly looked down to the porch to clear up his vision and ignored the look he knew he was getting from Grover.
~~~H50~~~
Lou took a seat and chose to ignore whatever had happened to Steve, but knew there was no way he intended to leave him alone without first knowing what was wrong with him. If it was an infection or a 'bug' as Steve called it, OK, but if it was something worse… well, he was going to be there.
The two sat in an uneasy silence for a few minutes before Grover spoke. "When's the last time you heard from Catherine?"
Steve flinched visibly at the mention of her name, but remained quiet for a few moments before asking, "Why?"
"One, I'm making conversation… it's the polite thing to do, but two, this seems to be related to her. So, I'm asking."
Steve sighed. "We texted last Saturday night."
"She OK?"
He hesitated once again. "Guess so."
"Want to talk about the nightmare since it relates to her?"
"Hell, no."
"Up until this, have you been sleeping?"
"Jeez, Lou, what's with the Twenty Questions? Can we just drop it?"
"No, we can't. Steve… something happened this morning and we can't ignore it any longer. You were out there, hunting for bear. What would have happened if someone had walked along the beach? Care to answer that?"
Steve glanced toward the ocean. "I wouldn't… it was…"
"Exactly. You don't have an answer. Steve, we can't just let this go. And add to that, your crazy-ass driving earlier…" Grover paused and shook his head, then continued. "Steve, I'm worried."
"Well, don't be. I'm fine."
"No, that's where we differ." Grover turned in his seat to stare at his friend. "You are not fine. And that's the reason I'm staying put tonight."
Steve sighed and then mumbled, "Suit yourself."
"I will," Grover shot back, taking a sip of his coffee.
Several more minutes passed before Steve spoke. "When I was driving home, I checked the mirror in the truck… I could have sworn I saw a gun," he quietly said.
Finally, Lou thought. "Sometimes our eyes play tricks on us," he said, his tone even.
"It ever happen to you?" Steve still hadn't looked at his friend, but stared at his feet propped up in front of him.
Grover nodded. "Hell, yeah. After I got back… let's just say I am very lucky to have an understanding wife who didn't boot my ass to the couch for waking her and the baby up with my screaming."
"Yeah," Steve agreed with a nod. "Cath was good, too. When I was in the middle of a dream she would wake me up. But… you know, sometimes she was the one having the dreams."
"And I'm sure you helped her, too," Grover commended.
Steve nodded again. "I tried. I wonder… I mean, I hope she isn't having any now. She's out there without back up. Without me to back her up."
"Do you think that's the reason for the nightmare last night?"
Steve looked out at the horizon and shrugged. "I don't know. It's been a crazy few weeks and I haven't gotten much sleep. I just think it was a wild nightmare. That and the fact that I've got some kind of bug."
"Yeah, you may be right," Lou agreed. "Danny said you mentioned something about a ghost this morning. Where did that come in to play?"
Steve shrugged. "You know dreams; how they can take one part of your life and merge it with another even though the events don't even coincide?" He finally looked at his friend. "I don't think there's any reason for it other than a weird dream." He smiled when he heard Grover's stomach growl.
The captain smiled back. "As you can no doubt hear, I'm hungry. Are you feeling up to anything? Thought I'd order some Chinese."
Before Steve could voice an opinion on food, his stomach did a belly flop and he hastily swallowed back bile. He shook his head and managed to breathe out the words, "No, thanks." He stood, not knowing if he was going to need to make a mad dash to the bathroom once again.
He got out of the chair; that much he distinctly remembered. But the next thing he knew, he was back in it. He opened his eyes to stare into Lou's dark ones that were much closer than Steve would have liked. Steve blinked away the dizziness and started to rise.
"You stay put," Grover ordered in a gruff tone. "If that chair hadn't been there you would have been flat on your back on the concrete. What the hell happened?"
Steve couldn't keep from making a face at the loud tones. "Lou, tone it down a notch, will ya? I just got dizzy. Maybe I do need to eat something."
Grover stood up and gave Steve some space. "Yeah, maybe so. But you're also running a temp. I've just never seen someone do a perfect imitation of a swoon, McGarrett."
Steve slowly stood once again, thankfully with no theatrics. "I did not swoon," he argued while heading toward the door.
"Yeah?" Lou shot back. "Maybe you got the vapors like my Great-Auntie Irene used to get. Only her vapors were usually of the gin variety."
Steve turned around to shut the door once Grover had followed him inside. "Bite me, Lou. Ya know, you're sounding more and more like Danny every day."
"Now there's no need to be insulting," the captain shot back. "That's a low blow."
~~~H50~~~
"You sure you don't want anything?" Grover asked once again while Steve warmed a bowl of soup in the microwave.
"Go, Lou," Steve said, turning to grin at him. "I am fully capable of heating and eating a bowl of soup without someone watching me."
The captain nodded, then leaned on the counter to get Steve's attention. "I know you think we're worry warts, but I kind of like to err on the side of caution."
Steve looked at his friend and admitted, "I know, Lou. And I appreciate it. Now go get some food before you die of starvation." Steve removed the hot bowl of soup and set it on the counter, burning his fingers in the process. He grabbed a towel and carried it to the living room, setting it down on the coffee table, listening to Grover's truck leave the drive.
Finally... peace. And quiet.
He blew on the spoonful of Chicken And Stars… Cath's all-time favorite soup from when she was a child. Her mom had always made it for her when she wasn't feeling well and she loved having that 'comfort' from her childhood. Steve took a bite and smiled while remembering her insistence that they keep a couple of cans around… just in case.
And then it hit him… how much she would love to be eating some comfort food right then. He wondered when she had last eaten… or when she had slept.
Suddenly the soup before him wavered and he once again saw Cath's lifeless eyes as she fell forward onto him in their bed. He jerked back on the couch, dropping the spoon; the bowl of uneaten soup sloshing onto the table. Steve sat there trying to catch his breath, feeling Catherine's dead weight against his chest, seeing again her blood coating his hands.
A chuckle brought him out of the vision. I'm coming for you, next…
Steve bolted up from the couch, wiping his hands on his pants to remove the blood. He stared at them, and then at his shirt, realizing that it was only a hallucination. There was no blood.
The voice taunted him, a whisper bouncing from one wall to the next. He turned in a circle, frantically searching for its source; seeing nothing.
But Steve knew he needed to be ready. It… he was coming. And Steve was going to fight.
The SIG? Where the hell's my gun?
Upstairs. Lou took it upstairs.
Steve moved quickly toward the steps, only to stop on the landing, looking upward. He didn't want to go up there. He wasn't ready. That was where… no, that wasn't real. But still, Steve did not want to go to the bedroom. There was another weapon in the garage along with his dad's rifle. And another locked in the back of his truck.
But the bedroom was closer.
Steve took a deep breath and headed upward. He walked straight to the chest and grabbed the weapon and holster. Without a backward glance, he raced back downstairs, stopping only when the pain in his side began to throb once more.
With the holster clipped to his belt, he felt marginally calmer and managed to both slow down his racing heart and relax so that the pulsating pain in his side dulled to an ache. Steve looked out the picture window in the living room, seeing nothing untoward. His truck was where he had left it and there was no one in sight. On the way to the kitchen, he stopped and checked the back of the house. The sun was almost gone, bathing the yard in a mixture of light and shadows, but he found nothing that should not be there. He breathed a sigh of relief, then heard the front door open.
His hand went immediately to his side and the SIG was in his palm. He pressed against the kitchen wall, waiting, not breathing.
"Hey, Steve, what's with the soup? You OK?"
Grover.
Steve released his breath and slowly replaced the gun in his holster.
"Steve?"
"Uh, yeah, in here," he called, grabbing a roll of paper towels from the counter. He went into the living room, tearing off some towels at the same time. "Made a mess," he explained to Lou while soaking up the soup from the table.
"Why the hell you packing in your house?"
"Huh? Oh… it's just… you know, it's for safety."
"The hell it is. What happened?"
"Nothing," Steve quickly replied, not looking at his friend.
"McGarrett? Come on, Steve, take it off. We're safe for tonight."
I'm coming for you.
Steve reached for the holster and handed it to Grover. He didn't believe for a minute that Lou was right, but he couldn't find the words to explain to his friend that he was being hunted. It would have to wait for later.
~~~H50~~~
Steve refused to spend the night in the bedroom. He assured Lou that many nights were spent in the brown recliner in the living room. He offered Grover one of the beds upstairs, but the captain opted for the couch against the far wall. It better fit his frame, so he grabbed a pillow and an afghan, making himself comfortable.
Grover had offered a couple of Tylenol and Steve gratefully accepted them. The pain in his side had steadily increased since his mad dash up the stairs. Once he settled down for the evening he was able to relax and dropped off to a sleep.
Lou listened to Steve's even breathing for quite a while before allowing himself to relax enough to get some shut eye. He knew he would wake if Steve even moved in the chair.
~~~H50~~~
The sun's first morning rays were shining thin ribbons of light on the front window when Steve jerked awake. His breath hitched when pain seared his side. He listened, knowing something woke him.
A quiet sound came from the back of the house. Almost imperceptible, but it was enough to pull him out of sleep.
A clink. The back door…
I'm coming for you.
~~~H50~~~