AN: You might have noticed that I've been focusing on Meg's thoughts and feelings. That may change as the story moves on, but right now Meg is the focus.
Also, in case anyone is wondering, this takes place the summer between seasons 7 and 8. Chin and Kono have left, but Junior and Tani haven't joined the group yet.
Meg sighed in relief as a nurse pressed a cotton ball on her arm where the IV had been just moments before, snugly securing it with a Band-Aid. Just over 20 hours after being rushed into the ER, the doctor had officially cleared Meg to be discharged, and the teen couldn't wait to get out of there. Despite her assurances that she already had one, she was being given another EpiPen, this one under the name 'Mary Andrews'. Gratefully, the commander had agreed to let her keep that identity at the hospital to avoid any extra issues or complications. He'd been hesitant though when Meg had insisted on using her debit card for 'Mary Andrews'. Meg thought back to the conversation they'd had an hour earlier.
"I have the money," she'd told him when he broached the subject.
He'd shaken his head. "I'm not allowing you to perpetrate credit card fraud."
"It's a debit card," she had said mildly, "and the money is legit. The name on the account might not be accurate, but the funds belong to me and I didn't obtain them through any illegal methods.
"Meg, the bill is going to be several thousand dollars. You can't possibly afford that."
"Not an issue," she'd insisted.
It was a bit ridiculous that Commander McGarrett had asked for Meg's 'promise' to remain in the hospital until discharged by medical professionals, because he really hadn't provided her an opportunity to escape had she wanted to. Someone had been in the room with her during her every waking moment. Commander McGarrett and Det. Williams had taken shifts staying with her, and when neither of them could, they had another person sit with her – a rather round man named Kamekona who had brought food that tasted way better than any of the food the hospital served. Meg had had to convince both the doctors and Commander McGarrett (who Kamekona had apparently been relieving) that she had zero food allergies before anyone would allow her to eat some of the shrimp.
Meg silently watched the nurse leave the room and close the door behind her before turning to the commander, who was seated in a chair against the wall. "I kept my word," she reminded him. "Now what?"
"Now, we're going to stop by the hotel to pick up your things and you're going to come home with me."
Whatever she'd expected him to say, it wasn't that. "What?"
"I'm keeping my word. I'm not calling child protective services, and I'm not taking you to HPD, but you're still a minor and I'm not about to leave you to fend for yourself. So, for now you'll stay with me." Rising to his feet, Steve pulled a package out of a bag he'd brought in earlier. "They'll be back in five or ten minutes to officially discharge you. Now that you're IV-free, I want you to go clean the makeup off your face." He held out the package to her.
She internally balked at the command and the assumption that she was underage, even if his tone had been mild, but she didn't want to give him any reason to change his mind and cart her off to child services or jail. Meg didn't think either of those places would ultimately prove safe for her. With a sigh that she hoped conveyed her displeasure, Meg took the pack of facial wipes and shifted her legs over the side of the bed to slide onto her feet. She grabbed her regular clothes and trudged into the bathroom, setting the pack on the rim of the sink. Huh, she thought. Burt's Bees. It happened to be one of her favorite brands. There was no way he could have known that, but it was still unnerving that he'd managed to pick out a product she actually used at home. Meg wondered if he'd chosen it himself or if he'd had someone shop for him. Then again, looking at the 'sensitive skin' label, perhaps he'd figured it would be least likely to trigger an allergic reaction in her.
Meg changed out of the hospital gown they'd given her the day before and put on her own clothes; the small change made her feel more normal. Once sufficiently dressed, Meg focused her attention on the mirror before her. After her near death episode the day before, Meg had to admit that her makeup looked (and felt) crappy. Her face would feel much better without the added gunk (and the stuff she'd worn to look older definitely wasn't her preferred brand), but Meg didn't want to give the commander or detective any more proof that she wasn't yet a legal adult. It didn't seem she had much of a choice at the moment, so reluctantly Meg broke the seal on the pack and pulled out a wipe, setting to work on her face.
Two minutes later, Meg examined her reflection and had to admit that she looked better. Younger, but better. Oh well. Without her full name or a missing person's report, it would be hard for anyone to track down her real identity, and Meg had no reason to believe an AMBER Alert could have possibly been issued so soon. It was summer break, so her school wouldn't be looking for her, and her mom would contact her as soon as it was safe. It would take several days of her friends not reaching her before one of their parents might think to contact the police. The chances of the average teenager making it from New York to Hawaii unassisted and unnoticed were so slight that Meg couldn't fathom anyone making that leap. It was one of the main reasons she'd chosen Hawaii.
Grabbing the pack of wipes, Meg rejoined the commander in her room. He gave her a nod of approval. "Much better."
Meg secretly warmed at the unexpected praise. Wordlessly she offered the package back to Commander McGarrett, who placed it back in its bag. Meg wondered if he was going to say anything else, but before she had the opportunity to find out, there was a knock on the door before an orderly walked in, pushing a standard wheelchair.
She let out a suffering sigh. Having someone push her out of the hospital in a wheelchair when her legs were fully functional and she was feeling fine was absurd. "I can walk."
"Hospital policy," the orderly explained with an apologetic smile.
Grudgingly, Meg took the few steps to the wheelchair and sat. She murmured a 'thanks' as the commander held out her purse for her to take, but it was then she didn't notice her shopping bags from the prior day. "Where are my bags?" she asked in confusion.
"They're in my truck," Steve assured her.
That confused Meg even more. Had he taken them out while she was sleeping, or had someone taken them out there while she was in the restroom? The last time she could remember seeing the bags was the night before, but hadn't really been focused on them that morning.
Ignoring Meg's obvious confusion, McGarrett nodded toward the door. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."
The trip to the hotel was largely uneventful. McGarrett had escorted Meg up to her room, but he remained by the door as Meg collected her belongings. If Commander McGarrett thought it unusual that Meg didn't have at least one suitcase, he didn't say so. The teen had half expected the commander to insist on going through her backpack, but for the time being he was giving her some space.
Still somewhat wary, Meg insisted on keeping her backpack on her lap on the drive to the McGarrett house, hugging it to her chest like some sort of lifeline. Commander McGarrett didn't push her to speak, which was just as well with Meg, because her mind was racing with too many thoughts as it was. Why on earth was this man, this complete stranger, insisting on having her stay at his place? She didn't think he was a danger to her, at least not in a serial killer or rapist kind of way, but he seemed to have vast resources at his disposal. Look at how quickly he'd discovered all of her IDs were fake! Meg had no idea how he'd done it in such a short amount of time, but it was intimidating.
It wasn't the only intimidating thing about the naval officer, Meg thought to herself. His mere presence was intimidating. Meg wasn't used to someone like him – someone who could probably command an auditorium with one word or glance. Honestly, Meg really hadn't had much in the way of a father figure, period. Her mom had never been serious with any of the men she'd dated, and while her friends had fathers that seemed nice, she really didn't know them – most of them spent more time at work than they did at home.
As the silver Chevy Silverado pulled up in front of the house, Meg took in her surroundings. The house was nestled in a sea of green. It really was pretty, and seemed tranquil. A two-story house stood before her, and as Meg stepped out of the truck, she swore she could hear the ocean. Draping her purse and backpack over her shoulder, Meg grabbed her bags and closed the passenger door, waiting for the commander to lead the way.
"Are you feeling okay?"
The question caught her by surprise, and watching a look of concern settle on the commander's face, Meg was silent for a moment before she found her voice. "I'm fine."
Reaching out, Steve gently took the shopping bags from Meg's hands. The movement served to catch Meg further off guard, and she was torn between feeling grateful and worrying he might try to take her backpack too.
"Come on," he said gently, offering a comforting smile.
Meg followed him up the pathway to the door, stepping inside as he held it open for her.
She found herself in a comfortable-looking living room. The space was clean and orderly, with brown leather seating. The coffee table and other furniture were also brown, and the area rug was tan. An indoor floor plant and the curtains added a small splash of green, but the colors in general were very earthy. Meg supposed this was probably typical for a bachelor (and she assumed, based on his lack of a wedding ring, that the commander wasn't married).
"Welcome to my home," he said as he closed the door. "Your home, for the time being. Let me show you your room, and then I'll give you a tour of the rest of the house."
Meg followed Steve up a set of wood stairs to a small loft. Steve motioned toward the first door. "That's my room," he explained. Leading the teen through the other door, they walked across a small sun room and through another doorway. "This will be your room," he said as he set the shopping bags on the bed. At the announcement, Meg tentatively set her backpack and purse on the bed, though she made sure to slip her phone into her pocket. "You have your own bathroom through that door."
Having her own bathroom was a relief, thought Meg. Having to share one all the time would've felt awkward. "Thank you," she said softly. Glancing to her right, she saw through the window that there was a large balcony outside her room, and the backyard led up to the beachfront.
He offered her a smile. "You're welcome. There's a door to the lanai in the sunroom we just walked through, and you're welcome to spend time out there if you'd like. For now, let's go back downstairs. I want you to know where everything is."
Steve led Meg back downstairs, pointing out the living room, the study/dining room, the guest room, and the downstairs bathroom. They stopped in the kitchen, and Steve motioned for Meg to join him at the table.
"I meant what I said upstairs," Meg said before Steve had a chance to speak as she perched on one of the stools. "Thank you for not throwing me to the wolves. I mean, you could've just let me go…"
"Meg," Steve said in a firm voice, cutting her off. The teen paused, pressing her lips together as she watched him warily. "Let's get something straight right now. Under no circumstances am I going leave a child to fend for herself."
The 'child' comment ruffled Meg's feathers. "I'm not a child!" she huffed.
"If you are under the age of eighteen, you are a child, and we already discussed the fact that you are not eighteen."
He wasn't wrong, of course, but Meg found it a bit presumptuous of him to assume anyway. "You don't know…"
"I do."
Meg frowned at being cut off a second time, as well as the tone Steve was using with her. It wasn't hard, but he wasn't entertaining any nonsense and it had been a while since anyone had spoken to Meg in such a parental way. Meg hadn't been a terribly difficult child, and it had been at least a year since her mother had needed to scold her for anything.
"We need to go over some ground rules," he continued, "and then you and I have a few things to discuss."
That sounded anything but pleasant. Meg wasn't much of a rule-breaker for the most part, but this guy wasn't even her parent, and she wondered just how strict his rules would be.
"First, I need to know where you are at all times. I don't know what you're doing in Hawaii and why you're on your own, but if I don't know where you are, I can't keep you safe. You will get my permission before going anywhere."
Meg didn't think that was terribly unreasonable, and honestly she wasn't sure where she'd go anyway. It wasn't as if she knew how to drive, and she hadn't seen any bus stops nearby. She gave a small nod of agreement.
"Second, honesty. I need to be able to trust you and I want you to be able to trust me. I may not tell you everything you want to know, but I will always tell you the truth, and I need you to tell me the truth."
"Okay," agreed Meg. That wasn't unreasonable, either, though she wondered what she would do if he asked a question that she couldn't answer without giving him too much information. Would it be sufficient for her to say that she wasn't going to answer the question, like she had regarding her last name and actual age?
Steve nodded, and it seemed like he was pleased with her answers but Meg couldn't be certain. "Third, respect. I will treat you with respect, and I expect you to treat me with respect."
Also reasonable. "Yes, sir," Meg murmured, hoping the 'sir' would be taken as proof of her agreement. She didn't always use 'sir' and 'ma'am' when talking to adults – it wasn't something her mother had pushed – but there were times when the situation felt appropriate and this was one of them.
"Fourth, though I think it goes without saying, you're going to avoid doing anything that could put you in harm's way."
"That's fair," admitted Meg. She bit her lip, not really wanting to know but needing to ask anyway. "What happens if I break one of those rules? Not that I'm planning to, but…" She trailed off nervously.
She watched his face become thoughtful, and she wondered if he even had an answer for her. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Steve decided. Pulling out the ID cards from the previous day, he set them on the table, deciding to switch topics. "Let's talk about these for a moment, because I'm impressed by the quality of them. Detective Williams and I found five different fake IDs in your purse. Are these the only fake IDs you have?"
Despite promising not a minute ago to be honest, Meg lied without so much as blinking. "Yes." There was no way she was giving up her last ID. It was her contingency plan, in case things went sideways and she needed to make a quick escape. Without it, she'd be completely at this man she'd known less than 24 hours.
He met her gaze, seeming to study her face for any hint of deception, but if he found it he didn't let on. "I think you already know that I'm not going to give these back to you, but I'd like to understand why a kid would have so many fake IDs. I know of kids who have gotten fake IDs to get into clubs or bars or to buy alcohol, but none of these IDs would allow you to drink, and none of them are even from Hawaii. I'm confident in saying you're a long way from home, wherever that is. Why are you in Hawaii?"
She couldn't give him details, but a vague answer could meet the 'honesty' requirement, and she didn't want to have to lie to him if she didn't absolutely have to. Too many lies, and she could become confused and everything could blow up in her face. Meg opted for a small shrug. "You said it. It's a long way from home."
"Where did you get these IDs?"
Meg shook her head. "I can't answer that."
Steve folded his hands on the table and leaned forward slightly. "I want to help you, Meg, but I need your help to do that."
"You can't help me," she admitted softly. "Not with this."
"You'd be surprised. Five-0 has a lot of resources at our disposal."
The teen frowned in confusion. "What's Five-0?"
"Five-0 is a special task force put together by the governor. We're like police officers, but we have more resources and fewer restrictions that HPD."
"I'm guessing HPD stands for the Honolulu Police Department?"
"Yes."
Meg shook her head again. "Despite your resources, this still isn't something that you can fix."
As far as Steve was concerned, there couldn't possibly be a situation that he couldn't fix, at least in regards to this girl. He had no idea who or what she was running from, but he had a gut feeling that whatever it was, it wasn't her fault. "I disagree, but I can understand why you don't trust me yet. That's okay for right now. You have a safe place to stay, and I promise you that I'm not going to let anything hurt you."
There was no doubt in Meg's mind that the commander believed every word he said with his entire being, but not knowing what she was running from herself, Meg just couldn't trust that he could keep that promise.