Heavy eyes blinked against bright, artificial lighting as Meg slowly became aware of her surroundings. Her first realization was that she could breathe, though her body felt like lead. A mask covered her nose and mouth. Her vision was a little blurry, and she tried to lift her hand to wipe them but it required too much effort.
"Welcome back," she heard from somewhere on her left.
Meg inched her head in that direction until she found the source of the voice.
"I'm Dr. Mori and you're at The Queen's Medical Center," came a woman's voice. "Can you tell me your name?"
"M-M-Me... M-Mary," she mumbled, catching herself just in time before she could throw her identity down the drain. "Mary Andrews." Her voice sounded garbled to her own ears, so she wasn't sure if the doctor would be able to understand her.
"It's nice to meet you, Mary. Do you know why you're in the hospital?"
She nodded slightly. Blinking her eyes again, she began to feel a little more coherent. Once more, she attempted to lift her hand, this time reaching for her oxygen mask. She pulled it away from her face, not wanting to listen to her own mangled voice. "I-I had an allergic reaction."
Dr. Mori nodded in agreement. "Have you had a serious reaction before?"
Another small nod. "Allergic to fire ants…"
"Do you have an EpiPen?"
"Mhmm. Forgot it at the hotel…"
It seemed, to Meg at least, that Dr. Mori was slightly satisfied with that answer. Meg was sure she looked stupid, knowingly having a severe allergy and not remembering to bring her EpiPen, but she hadn't expected to encounter any fire ants during her excursion, and to be honest she'd forgotten to move it from her backpack to her purse in her haste to get the hell out of New York.
"Well, it looks like you'll be just fine. Your vitals are returning to normal, you're breathing on your own, and the swelling is going down. We're going to keep you here overnight though for observation, particularly since you had such a serious reaction and there was a delay in administering epinephrine. We'll move you to a more private room. Is there anyone you'd like us to call for you? Perhaps a family member or a friend?"
"No," Meg said with a slight shake of her head.
"We'll transfer you to a room in just a moment." The oxygen mask was gently placed back over Meg's face, but she didn't object. Relieved that she was going to be okay, she allowed her eyes to close as she rested.
A half an hour later, Meg let out a deep breath and took a sip of water from a Styrofoam cup as a nurse adjusted her bed so her head and torso were elevated. She had been able to trade her oxygen mask for a nasal cannula, but she was still hooked up to a handful of machines monitoring her heartrate, blood pressure, and oxygen levels. Naturally, an IV had also been inserted in her arm. The room itself was a bit plain – much like any other hospital room she'd seen – but the windows afforded her a magnificent view of that spectacularly blue sky. Meg supposed that was a positive.
She'd been silently mulling over the doctor's question about calling someone, trying not to let herself cry over the fact that she had absolutely no one to call. She'd been on autopilot since her mother's text a little over 24 hours earlier, and she hadn't had the opportunity until now to wonder what had happened to her mom. If everything was okay, Meg was certain she would have already heard from her mother somehow, but she hadn't heard a thing. Why had it been so urgent for Meg to go into hiding?
"Where are my things?" Meg questioned, trying to push aside the fear and despair that threatened to overtake her. "I had a purse and some shopping bags."
"They're right here," the nurse assured her, moving so Meg could see her belongings on one of the chairs against a wall.
Meg set her water cup down on what looked like a tray or table on wheels that rolled to hover over her lap. "Thank you."
"It's my pleasure," the nurse replied with a smile. "Do you feel up for visitors?"
"Visitors?" Meg repeated, sure she'd misunderstood the nurse. How could she have a visitor when she didn't know anyone in Hawaii? Her face scrunched in confusion. "Who is it?"
Opening the door, the nurse nodded to someone in the hallway. Moments later a man stepped into room. He was dressed in a striped button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of dark slacks. Something gold glinted from his waistband, and Meg thought it looked like a police badge. His blonde hair was flipped back and, at least from where Meg sat, he appeared a little shorter than the average man. Something about his appearance nagged at the back of her brain, but she couldn't put a finger on why, and she definitely didn't recognize him as someone she knew well.
"Hey there Mary," he said, slipping his hands in his pockets and offering her a friendly smile. Meg figured he must have gotten her name from the doctor or the nurse, particularly since he was using her fake identity. "I'm Detective Danny Williams, and I wanted to check in on you and see how you were doing."
Upon hearing his voice, Meg realized why the man had seemed slightly familiar, and it wasn't simply his hint of a Jersey accent. "You helped me earlier," she said.
"I did," agreed Danny, nodding his head. "I'm glad to see you're doing better. I was a little worried for you out there. How are you feeling?"
Meg managed a slight smile. "Tired, but being able to breathe is a relief. Thank you… for whatever you did. I remember the beginning of the reaction, but then I don't remember anything else until I woke up in the ER."
"You're welcome," he said with sincerity. "Outside, you said something about being allergic to ants?"
"Fire ants," Meg clarified with a small nod. "I didn't see any on or near me, but I'm not allergic to anything else."
Danny moved to stand near the foot of Meg's bed. "I couldn't find an EpiPen anywhere in your purse."
She could hear the question in his statement. "I forgot it in my hotel room," was her sheepish explanation. "I feel really stupid for not putting it in my purse."
He gave a small nod, but didn't comment further on the subject. "So you're visiting Hawaii? Do you have family on their way here?"
Meg shook her head, wondering why Det. Williams was asking the same question the doctor had asked in the ER. It was an expected question from a doctor, but not from a stranger. "No, I'm traveling alone."
His face remained friendly, but Danny cocked his head in curiosity. "I hope you don't take offense to this, but you seem a little young to be traveling by yourself."
"I'm eighteen," she said with a small shrug, grateful that this identity portrayed her as a legal adult. Of all of her identities (and she had several that she hadn't even used), 'Mary Andrews' was the only one of legal age. It had been her mother's safeguard for her to avoid attracting unwanted attention.
Meg hadn't realized the door had been left ajar, but it gained her notice when she heard a quick knock on the door. Glancing away from Det. Williams, Meg watched a second man enter the room. He was noticeably taller than Det. Williams, with short brown hair and a much more casual look.
"This is Commander Steve McGarrett," Danny explained.
"It's nice to meet you, Commander McGarrett," Meg smiled, doing her best to mask her confusion over why she was being visited by a U.S. naval officer.
"Mary," Steve said in greeting, offering her a sincere smile. "I have to say, it's nice to see you conscious and breathing on your own."
Meg's eyes widened in surprise. "You were there too?" She couldn't remember hearing his voice, but she wasn't sure how long it took for her to black out. It was the fastest reaction she'd ever had, and Meg shuddered to wonder what would have happened had she accidentally stepped in a fire ant mound. Would she have even had the time to find her EpiPen, had she had it on her?
"He kind of saved your life," explained Danny, though Meg swore she could see a slight reluctance on Det. Williams' part to admit it.
"Thank you," murmured the teen, hoping her eyes expressed her gratitude.
Steve gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "Like I said, I'm glad you're okay. I've gotta ask though, why didn't you have an EpiPen?" questioned the naval officer. "You clearly knew you were having an anaphylactic reaction, and epinephrine is typically prescribed to people with severe allergies."
It was a tad annoying to have to explain herself repeatedly, but Meg kept her irritations to herself. "I do," she said softly. "I forgot it in my hotel room."
"That was a really dangerous thing to do, Mary." Meg frowned at the hint of a stern tone Commander McGarrett had adopted. "If the paramedics had taken much longer to reach you, you might not have survived."
Was he scolding her? He didn't even know her. Even so, Meg wisely kept her thoughts to herself. It probably wouldn't go over well if she said what was on her mind, and she needed to keep a low profile anyway. "I know," she agreed in an attempt to placate the man. "Trust me, it won't happen again."
He didn't say anything in response to her promise, but his eyes held approval. "So where are your parents, Mary?"
It was the third time he'd said her name since they'd officially met, and Meg found it a little unsettling. Det. Williams had only used her name once, but it was almost as if Commander McGarrett was purposely using her name over and over.
"At home," she lied smoothly, though honestly it could've been true. After all, she had no idea what had happened with her mother, and her father, whoever he was, could've been anywhere in the world. "I'm on a summer vacation to celebrate graduating high school."
"Yeah?" questioned Steve. "What high school?"
Her eyes narrowed a bit. "Why?"
He moved to stand beside her bed, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a rectangular plastic card before setting it on her little table.
Looking down at the card, Meg saw her ID for Mary. Her gaze shot back up to Commander McGarrett in a flash. "Why do you have my driver's license?" she demanded.
"The hospital wanted any possible identification," Steve explained, unperturbed by her shock and dismay. "Det. Williams and I wanted to contact your family to let them know where you were. Imagine our surprise when we couldn't find any record of a Mary Claire Andrews living in Akron, Ohio."
Having no way to explain that discrepancy, Meg stared silently at the commander. She wondered if he was going to demand an explanation.
Instead, the man continued, "So we took another look your purse to see if we could find any clues about you, and I made an interesting discovery." Reaching once more into his pocket, he produced several more plastic cards, which he proceeded to spread across the table.
Four more driver's licenses stared at Meg, each with her face but different names and different states – Angela O'Hara from Connecticut, Hayley McKendrick from California, Jasmine Lee from Florida, and Megan Carson from Oregon. Each identity gave a birthdate that implied an age of 16. Meg could barely process what she was seeing. All of her efforts to go unnoticed – flushed down the drain. How the hell was she going to get herself out of this?
She wanted to yell at him for looking through her purse in the first place, but it wouldn't change the fact that she couldn't explain any of the licenses.
"Naturally, we searched for these other girls, but we couldn't find any record of them, either."
Her chest tightened with anxiety.
Shifting, Steve reached for one of the chairs available for visitors and lifted it with one hand, setting it down beside the bed. He took a seat and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped, eyes locked on Meg's eyes. "What's your real name?"
Should she tell him? Meg really didn't want to, but she had a feeling she wasn't going to be allowed to leave the hospital without giving them something. Defeated, she murmured, "Meg."
"What's your last name, Megan?"
"Meg," she repeated, this time a bit louder, "and I'm not telling you my last name."
Steve's brow furrowed, expressing his dissatisfaction with her response, but he didn't comment on it. "How old are you, Meg?"
She shook her head. "Not telling you that, either."
His voice took on an slight edge. "Do you understand that using a fake ID is illegal?"
Meg really wanted to fold her arms over her chest, but she suspected the IV in her arm would make that uncomfortable, if not worse. "If I say I'm eighteen or older, you'll have me arrested. If I say I'm under eighteen, you'll throw me to children's services until you can find my family. Either way I lose."
A knowing smile, almost a smirk, from Steve only fueled Meg's irritation. "I know you aren't an adult," he told her. "I don't even think you're sixteen, even with the makeup you're clearly wearing."
"I'm not going to child services," Meg said. "If you try to send me there, I'll just run away." She still had one ID in her backpack, and as long as she could grab her backpack while avoiding the authorities, she could get herself the hell off this island and find a different place to hide out.
She struggled to maintain her confidence under the weight of his gaze. He wasn't glaring at him, and he didn't seem mean, but it almost felt like he was seeing right through her. It was downright unnerving. After several long seconds, Meg watched Commander McGarrett give a short nod. "Okay."
Meg blinked in surprise. "Okay?" she repeated.
"Okay?" echoed Det. Williams. Meg had nearly forgotten he was in the room. "What do you mean 'okay', Steven? Don't tell me you're thinking of taking her to HPD." He seemed outraged at the mere thought.
"Okay," Steve repeated, his attention focused on the girl before him. "I'll make a deal with you. I won't call child protective services, and I won't place you under arrest, if you agree to stay put until tomorrow when the doctors decide you're ready to be discharged."
A naval officer couldn't possibly have the authority or jurisdiction to arrest her, but Meg figured it wasn't worth arguing that point considering she was fairly certain that Det. Williams could arrest her. "And when they discharge me?" she questioned. "What happens then?"
"We'll discuss that tomorrow, so long as you stay here and behave yourself." Meg had to resist the urge to roll her eyes over the 'behave' comment. "So, do we have an agreement?"
Considering the risk of leaving the hospital before the doctors were certain she wouldn't have another allergy attack, Meg hadn't planned on slipping out anyway. Still, Commander McGarrett didn't need to know that. "Okay," she agreed.