CHAPTER 36

"What the hell?!" Danny's Jersey accented exclamation echoed throughout the room.

Rodger Tillman turned around at Danny's exclamation with a sheepish expression on his face. Danny stood just inside the front door of Steve's house and stared, open mouthed, at the scene in front of him. Four men were trussed up and gagged in the middle of Steve's living room. Jordan Kupahu was sitting on the plastic-covered couch, working on a laptop computer and typing furiously.

"You didn't think to call?" Danny asked as he stormed into the living room.

Tillman opened his mouth to answer, but Danny cut him off.

"We have been worried sick about you. You didn't think to call to tell us the problem had been taken care of? You didn't think to ask if we had found Steve? What the hell is the matter with you? We thought Nazeef's men had killed you!"

Tillman held up his hands to stop the detective's rant. "Danny, let me explain—"

"—Sure, let you explain. While you have been babysitting, we have been traipsing through the Hawaiian jungle. I'm pretty sure I have more bug bites than pimples on a teenager's face! Turns out Steve had it all under control. He took out Nazeef and Walker, by the way. We spent the last six hours in a hospital waiting room, hoping you would call to tell us that you were safe or at least still alive! Now I find you sitting here on Steve's couch— "

"How's Steve?" Tillman asked before Danny got too wound up.

Danny sighed. "He's…He's in a coma."

"What?" Tillman asked, his voice tight.

"He wasn't in good shape when we got to him. The idiot managed to escape on his own and take out Nazeef. Walker was absolutely off his rocker, by the way. As if Steve didn't have enough problems already, Walker injected him with heroin and he overdosed. Hence, the coma."

"Did you say heroin?" Tillman asked.

"Yeah, as if Steve wasn't already insane enough," Danny added.

Tillman sank his body onto the recliner and placed his head in his hands. Danny frowned at the unusual behaviour from the otherwise stoic man.

"What is it?" Danny asked.

"The previous time Nazeef had Steve…well, he injected him with heroin and it nearly killed him. The withdrawal period was…intense. Have you ever wondered why Steve has such an aversion to painkillers?"

Now that Danny thought about it, Steve often refused pain medication and instead opted to just deal with it. Danny had always thought he was just being a macho SEAL. He had never considered there was a deeper reason behind it.

"Heroin takes away physical pain. For Steve, that was more torturous than the actual torture. He uses pain as a tool to survive in…adverse situations. If there is no pain, he can't fight. His own body would hold him hostage. He needs to feel pain to feel alive," Tillman explained.

Danny was speechless. It made sense in a strange way. To feel so completely numb that you didn't know if you were alive or dead would be terrifying. In essence, to feel is to be alive. The more Danny learned about his partner, the more he realised he didn't know about the man he called his best friend.

"If you guys are done with your feelings," Jordan Kupahu interrupted. "I have decrypted the drive."

Tillman rolled his eyes at Danny before turning to the man on the couch.

Danny could almost see Tillman evaluating whether it was worth saying anything in response. Danny admired the self control. It was obvious that the last few hours had been trying for both men. Evidently, that was too much time for the two men to spend together in a confined space.

"I don't understand why it took so long, since you were the one who encrypted the thing in the first place," Tillman said irritably.

"Maybe I could have done it quicker if you hadn't locked me in the pantry," Kupahu replied snottily.

Danny's eyebrows rose as Tillman took a deep, calming breath before replying. "I told you before, that was for your protection."

"Dude, I don't need your protection. Besides, your guys took care of them," Kupahu said, pointing to the disgruntled men sitting on the floor.

"And the only reason you are still alive is because of that drive," Tillman reminded Kupahu. "You didn't stand a chance on your own. If we hadn't protected your sorry butt, you would have ended up like everyone else involved in this…Dead!"

Kupahu appeared to be on the cusp of answering before deciding it was not a good idea to piss of an already pissed off ex-SEAL. Danny secretly thought that was a very wise decision.

"Well?" Tillman said in annoyance.

"Well what?" Kupahu asked.

"Give us the damn computer!" Tillman said impatiently.

"Oh!" Kupahu jumped before quickly handing over the laptop.

Kupahu looked ready to bolt, but Danny glared at him. Kupahu sat back down, looking like a scolded school child.

"Um…Danny?" Tillman said, staring at the laptop screen.

Danny walked over to Tillman and looked down at the screen. "What is it?"

"This is a lot bigger than we thought," Tillman answered.

Danny's eyes took in all the information on the screen. Tillman was right. Nazeef's network was larger than they had thought possible. No wonder the man had been able to avoid arrest, or even identification, for so many years. He had people in every possible organisation protecting him, working in secret. Like sleeper agents, waiting to come online.

Danny smiled wickedly. They were about to get a very rude awakening.


Four days later:

Doctor Eric Palamo stood at the entrance to his patient's ICU cubicle. He watched as the youngest member of the Five-0 team sat next to Commander McGarrett, talking to him but not expecting a response. Doctor Palamo knew from experience there would be no point in trying to remove the Commander's friends from the ICU. If the recent past was anything to go by, their presence generally increased the McGarrett's recovery rate.

Except that wasn't the case this time.

McGarrett seemed to be caught in almost a limbo-type scenario. He wasn't getting worse, but he wasn't getting any better either. At any moment, the situation could turn either way, no matter what they did.

The bruising over the Commander's body had faded in some areas and become more pronounced in others. Doctor Palamo winced when he saw the particularly deep bruising on McGarrett's jaw. He had been surprised to find that the jaw was not broken or even fractured. It was evident that Commander McGarrett had received many vicious blows to the face. He must have pissed someone off.

Doctor Palamo glanced at the wrist that was placed in a, albeit temporary, removable brace. Until the lacerations on McGarrett's wrists healed, they would not be able to cast the arm. In the meantime, the brace was being utilised to keep the hand immobile. Not that there was much need for that.

The Commander remained in a coma. He hadn't opened his eyes since arriving at the hospital and hadn't spoken (not that he could with a tube down his throat). He had, however, responded to painful stimuli, which was a positive.

It meant that not all was lost and he believed the Commander would come out of the coma eventually. It was just a matter of time. From past experiences with the Commander as a patient, Doctor Palamo figured it would be sooner rather than later.

Doctor Palamo shuddered when he thought about the reasons why this good man was lying in a hospital bed. He had caught snippets of the team's conversations when they rotated shifts to watch over their leader. As far as he could tell, a really bad man had come to Hawaii looking for McGarrett and right now, the rest of the team were out looking for the people that worked for this Nazeef character.

Doctor Palamo watched as Kono stood up and brushed McGarrett's hair from his forehead. The Commander did not respond to the touch and Kono looked almost disappointed. She put on a brave face as she made her way over to him.

"Good afternoon, Doctor Palamo. How's he doing?" Kono asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"Good afternoon Kono. He's pretty much the same. The bruising is going down, but he still needs the ventilator. It will take a few weeks for the wrist to heal."

Kono nodded as though it was new information. Unfortunately, that was all the doctor had to report. Until Commander McGarrett started showing signs of being able to breathe on his own, there wasn't much to do but wait.

"Thanks," Kono said with a sad smile. "Chin will be here later this evening."

"What about Danny?" Doctor Palamo asked.

It had been five days since the Commander was admitted to the hospital. In all that time, the doctor hadn't seen the spiteful and talkative Jersey detective once. It was unusual and the doctor had noticed his absence straight away. Even more so, he had noticed that Danny's daughter, Grace, hadn't come to visit her beloved Uncle Steve.

Kono smiled knowingly. "He'll come by as soon as we get all of the people involved."

Doctor Palamo could tell that Kono wasn't too pleased with the fact that Danny hadn't been by to see his best friend. Considering how much the detective had been by his partner's side the last time the Commander was in the hospital, it was intriguing as to why he was conspicuous in his absence this time.

"Well, let's hope he comes by before it's too late," the doctor said.

Kono's smile fell from her face and Doctor Palamo realised he had probably misspoken.

"I didn't mean—"

"No," Kono said. "I know what you meant. And you are right. Danny's not focusing on what's really important here…I'll talk to him…Again."

Doctor Palamo watched as Kono walked down the hall, defeat evident in her posture. He hoped whatever was going on would be over soon. For the sake of his patient and his friends.


Rodger Tillman stood at the end of Steve McGarrett's bed. Apart from the sound of the heart monitor, which was now beating regularly, and the whoosh of the ventilator, the room was silent. Tillman wasn't used to seeing his friend like this. Vulnerable. Fragile.

Unfortunately, he had seen this before, in another time and place.

-Flashback-

He opened his eyes. Tiny specks of light invaded his vision. He blinked a few times before he realised it was the stars in the night sky, shining bright in the absence of light. He took a deep breath, taking stock of his body before moving.

His body felt mildly bruised all over. He knew that wasn't going to be a problem. A throbbing sensation down his entire left leg told him that was the most serious injury. Carefully, he sat up, pleased when he didn't get dizzy from the change in position.

In the light provided by the stars, he inspected his leg. He couldn't see much, but his hand came away wet when he inspected the area. Then he remembered feeling the bullets tearing through his leg before falling and passing out.

He looked up and saw there was no easy way out of the deep hole he was in. He tried signalling on the radio, only to get no response. Either his men were out of range or…

He shook himself. He couldn't think about that right now. He had a mission to complete.

He shifted his leg slightly and bit down hard on his bottom lip when agonising pain shot through the limb. He figured the bullet that had landed in his hip was still there, probably lodged in the bone. The one to his knee, however, had just missed the joint, hitting the flesh above it and gone straight through.

He sighed. He wouldn't be walking any time soon. At least, not unaided. He looked around and spotted a conveniently large stick lying on the ground near him. Using his arms, he scooted his body over to the stick. Propping the stick upright, he used it as leverage to lever himself off the ground and into a semi-standing position.

Tentatively, he put weight on his injured leg and almost screamed from the white hot pain that encompassed him. Taking a few deep breaths, he got the pain under control and attempted a step forwards. It was extremely painful, but as long as he kept breathing, he could move.

After ten minutes of 'walking', he was covered in sweat and shaking with pain. He paused, leaning heavily on the stick and hoping it wouldn't snap under the pressure. Luckily, it held firm. Panting, he looked around, hoping to see a path out of the ravine that wasn't too steep. No such luck.

Sucking in a deep breath, he continued his trek in search of a way out. What felt like years later, but was in fact only about an hour, he found a path that he felt he could tackle. Unfortunately, it would require him to ditch the crutch. He took a moment to catch his breath before deciding on the best way to pull himself up.

He grabbed a protruding rock with his left hand and another with his right. He pulled his body upwards, using his right leg as an extra anchor point. Slowly and painfully, he make his way up the side of the ravine. Just when he could see the edge, his right leg slipped on a loose rock. His lower body slammed into the side of the ravine. He clung on with both hands, holding on for dear life.

When the pain receded, his arms were trembling with the effort of holding on. He had no idea how much time had passed, but his muscles were telling him it was time to move. His leg was on fire. If he had to guess, the bullet had moved, causing the pain to reignite.

His muscles were so fatigued that he almost let himself fall to the ground. With one last surge of adrenaline, he pulled himself up and grabbed onto the ledge with his fingers. Scrambling at the ground, he managed to pull his chest out and onto the flat ground. His lower body soon followed and he slumped on the ground, panting for breath.

The sky seemed bright than it had before. Maybe it was because the light had to travel further to reach him at the bottom of the trench, or it was because the sun was starting to make an appearance. Tillman groaned. He had to move and find shelter soon. Otherwise, he would be stuck in the extreme Afghanistan heat.

He rolled onto his stomach and began crawling across the field; to keep off his leg, but also to keep out of sight from any remaining hostiles. In the near distance, he saw a figure on the ground. He approached as quickly as he could, before recoiling when he realised it was one of this men.

Petty Officer Twigg was lying face down, a bullet having torn through the back of his neck. Tillman allowed himself a moment of remorse before promising the fallen sailor that he would be brought home.

With great effort, he pushed himself forward. He would not quit. As long as he could move, he would. When he encountered two more of his men's body's, that became harder to do. However, the knowledge that two of his men were still unaccounted for spurred him onwards. He hoped they hadn't met the same fate as the rest of the men under his command.

Tillman resolved to continue until he found Johnston and McGarrett. Over the next two days, he crawled and hobbled, taking breaks in any available shade. Every time he stopped to rest, it was harder to get up and move on. Blood loss and pain took a toll, not to mention dehydration and hunger. If he didn't find his men soon, he would be in real trouble.

Before he knew it, the compound they had been sent to infiltrate stood before him. Well, what was left of it, anyway. The building was still smouldering, so whatever had happened, happened recently.

Hope surged in his chest as he searched the nearby area frantically, looking for any sign that Johnston or McGarrett had made it out alive. He half hobbled, half hopped, around the side of the remaining building.

The sight in front of him stopped him momentarily before he threw all caution to the wind and dove towards the two men lying on the ground. As he got closer, he realised that one man's head was at an unnatural angle, his body lying on top of the other man.

Tillman was almost ashamed to admit that he was pleased to see Steve still breathing underneath Johnston's body. He couldn't help it. Sure, he still felt remorse, but to know that at least one of his men was still alive…that meant everything at this point.

"Steve?" he called.

Steve jerked underneath Johnston, his eyes opening and actively scanning the environment for threats. As soon as his bleary eyes focused on him, Tillman could see the relief reflected in those blue eyes. Tillman watched as Steve's eyes flicked to the weight on top of him and watched the younger man swallow down his emotions as he carefully and with all the dignity the deceased man deserved, removed Johnston's body from his own.

The sound of footsteps approaching from his right had Tillman pivoting and pointing his gun in the direction of the sound. He froze when he saw little Ari staring at him with wide eyes. Quickly, Tillman lowered his gun and holstered it, before holding out his hands to show he was not a threat.

The young boy appeared to be petrified, but otherwise unharmed. Tillman glanced over at Steve and smiled. He had to give it to the young man. When he got an idea into his head, there was no going back. In this case, he was glad that he did. Tillman turned back to the young boy and smiled reassuringly.

"Steve!" Ari exclaimed.

Tillman turned his attention back to Steve abruptly. He was having trouble breathing. Based on all the bruising and lacerations that he could see, Tillman knew there had to be some underlying injuries. Broken ribs, punctured lung, who knew what else.

Tillman crawled over to Steve and placed Steve's head on his good leg, allowing an easier breathing position. Steve was talking, but he couldn't hear anything. Tillman leaned in closer, putting his ear near Steve's mouth.

"Look…after…him," Steve pleaded.

Tillman glanced at the boy kneeling next to Steve, holding his hand with his much smaller ones. It was clear that Steve was fond of the kid, and vice versa. It was a beautiful thing to be witness to.

"Make…sure…he…stays…safe," Steve whispered.

Tillman nodded, silently promising he would look after the boy that Steve had clearly gone through hell for. Steve nodded once, then his body went limp. Tillman felt a surge of panic grip him and refuse to let go.

The rest happened in a blur. The next thing he really remembered was waking up after surgery to remove the bullet lodged in his hip. He was told that he would need more surgeries, but they would be done at home, in America, where he could recover.

When he was allowed out of bed, he took a wheelchair to the ICU where Steve McGarrett was. He took a moment to brace himself before entering. The doctors had told him about the extensive damage done to his friend's body. It saddened him to know what he had experienced during his captivity. He would do anything to trade places with him and stop his pain.

He entered the room and froze at the sight. Steve, normally so vibrant, was lying in a bed with a machine breathing for him. Apparently, the heroin had depressed his respiratory system to the point where it had shut down. If they hadn't been found by the recovery team when they had, he would be attending five funerals instead of four.

Tillman watched as Steve's chest rose with the push of air from the ventilator. His mind turned back to the moment when Steve's chest stopped moving. He shuddered when he remembered Ari's wails of despair.

Tillman had made sure the boy was safe. Just like he had promised Steve. The boy deserved to live without fear. He hoped that the family that had adopted him would look after him. He hoped that Steve would approve.

When Steve was better, Tillman would make sure they got to see each other. They deserved at least that much.

Tillman held his head in his hands as he stared at Steve's face. He knew the young man didn't have much in the way of family, so he took it upon himself to make sure Steve made it through this ordeal whole. Or as close to whole as possible.

An event like that would leave a mark on anyone. Even someone as strong and resilient as Steve McGarrett.

-End flashback-

Rodger Tillman knew that, this time, Steve would finally be able to put it behind him and focus on the future. Tillman had seen the family Steve had created here in Hawaii and he knew his friend would be in good hands. They would stick by him, no matter what happened.