A/N: "Do the 6-mile swim with us," they said. "It'll be fun," they said. Uh huh. Sorry for the lack of updates… I'm still recovering. (Admittedly, it was fun.)

A/N: sorry for any mistakes. No beta on this chp, and I spent less time reviewing than normal. Thanks for continued reviews and favorites! Y'all are awesome!

Outside Steve's cell, footsteps echoed hollowly down the corridor. The pace was slower and the footfall slightly heavier than the guards posted outside his door. With nothing else to do, Steve had been listening carefully to his guards' movements, listening for not just how many were outside, but also logging their suspected height, weight, and how they might be armed. Of course, he had no use for that information while he was trussed up, but he recorded it all anyway, just in case.

He rolled his head as another muscle spasm pulled painfully in his shoulders. Whoever had tied him up knew exactly what they were doing; it would take several days to work the kinks out.

As the twitching faded, he heard the new footsteps approach his door, stop, and then a command was given. Steve stiffened. A moment later, the door opened and Steve, sensing he was in the presence of a superior officer, straightened slightly.

"Commander McGarrett?" a heavy, older voice asked.

"Yes," Steve jerked his head in acknowledgement.

"Colonel Thule, Army Cyber Division," the voice said briskly. "Let's get you out of those restraints."

A moment later, the blindfold was removed and the heavy restraints fell to the floor as Steve stood and rubbed his wrists appreciatively. The colonel, a tall man with short-cropped hair and a surprisingly thin face, stood by the door as a table and three chairs were brought into the tiny room.

"I apologize for the wait. We needed to confirm your identity," he said briskly, exactly as Steve had expected him to.

Steve didn't bother to acknowledge the lie. No one needed to confirm his identity. No one was sorry about the wait except Steve himself. He knew this game.

The colonel continued, "Now that we know who you are, let's talk about you." The soldier who had brought the chairs left and returned a moment later with a large bag that he set on the floor with a heavy clunk, then took up a position behind Steve near the wall.

The colonel gestured to one of the chairs. "Sit."

Steve sat.

Reaching inside the bag, the colonel began to remove Steve's weapons one by one and carefully laid the confiscated items out on the table.

"That's quite an impressive arsenal you have there," he said when he had finished. "Do you usually carry this much when going to apprehend a suspect?"

"That depends on the suspect," Steve replied vaguely, unsure where the conversation was headed.

"Tell me about the suspect you were chasing today."

"I think you already know about him. Sir."

The colonel's eyes narrowed. "Don't play games with me, Commander. Your immunity will only protect you so far. You reached the end of that protection when you jumped the fence earlier today."

"And my suspect?"

"What about him?"

"What about his immunity? Clearly he's here."

The colonel wasn't impressed. "Careful, Commander," he warned. "Do you know where you are? Do you know where here is?"

Steve made a show of looking at the barren concrete walls and heavy door. "I've got a few ideas."

"Then let me make it clear: this is a place where you might never see the sun again, or the color green, or the ocean you love so much. We're both men of rank," he nodded in acknowledgement of Steve's service, "so do yourself a favor: cooperate. Trust me: I want you out of here as much as you do." Clearing the table of weapons, he passed the full bag to another soldier who took it away. "Let's try this again. Tell me why you're here. We contacted HPD- your task force has no active cases on file."

Which meant that Danny forgot to file the paperwork. Unusual for the normally organized and scrupulous detective, but not impossible. Steve guessed that Danny had probably filled out the appropriate forms but neglected to file them after finding Steve unconscious Tuesday morning. "We do have a case, sir. It may still be logged with HPD in the system, though."

The colonel crossed his arms and waited.

Steve knew when to push boundaries, but he decided now was not the time. Locked up for eternity because you wanted to push his buttons? he imagined Danny lecturing him. What the hell were you thinking? Play 'Whose is biggest?' later! Steve sighed and forced his pride down.

"We identified a suspect in our latest case. He's using the alias Aaron Hernandez," he began and laid out the facts as succinctly as possible. "We believe he may have ties to a Chinese gang involved in drug and weapons trafficking. My partner and I were kidnapped by this gang Wednesday evening. This morning, my team identified Hernandez in video footage from the scene of the kidnapping. We were able to locate him and then followed him here."

Steve noted that the colonel appeared unsurprised by this information. There were none of the usual questions that would have followed such a statement, like, "How did you escape?" or "Were you or your partner injured?" He frowned, annoyed, but also disconcerted. How much did the colonel already know? And, more to the point, why did he care?

Even with the addition of drugs and weapons to their missing 'unicorn' case, Steve had no clue how the Army Cyber Division might be involved. Created only in the past few years, it was the Army's response to increased security threats to the military from other nations, with a particular eye on Russia and China. Unless one of their kidnappers had ties to something far bigger than a drug-toting unicorn, he was at a loss for the colonel's interest in him.

"This 'Mr. Hernandez," the colonel began, watching Steve carefully, "what makes you believe he is involved and not simply an unfortunate bystander at the scene?"

"We have him on multiple security footage stills throughout the week. He has clearly been following us and our progress on the case. We believe Mr. Hernandez has either been passing information to one or more of the cartels and gangs who have shown an interest in the stolen drugs, or is possibly a member of one of these groups."

"And you believe he is here?"

"I know he's here," Steve stated. "I know he's here and that you are protecting him. What I can't figure out, though, is why the Army Cyber Division is interested in a horse thief and low-level drug dealer."

Something almost like a smirk crossed the colonel's face. Going to the door, he spoke quietly to someone outside. A few minutes passed while before he returned.

"Tell me, Commander McGarrett: is this your suspect?" The colonel gestured and a young man entered.

Steve started. Clean, in fresh clothes and with combed hair, 'Aaron Hernandez' had an entirely different appearance from the dirty, curly-haired thug Steve had chased earlier.

"That's him, but-"

"Allow me to introduce Blake Romero," Colonel Thule interrupted. "He is working undercover with a local Chinese gang that we've taken an interest in."

Several pieces suddenly fell in place for Steve.

"This is about espionage."

"Yes."

"And Daniel Ma, the father of the birthday girl. You believe he took something. But…" Steve tried to pull the pieces together, "he's not Chinese."

"But his wife is, and she has ties to a segment of the Triads that appears to receive funding from Beijing. We believe she influenced her husband to download classified information at his work onto a thumb drive and bring it home for her to pass along to the Triads."

"So you posed as FBI and tried to intercept him with the thumb drive before he could pass it over. You found him at the birthday party, but the thumb drive was missing. You think he hid it in the horse."

"Very good," the colonel nodded. "And now we need to find the horse."

"What about the wife and daughter?"

"They don't have it. We know for a fact that she never received the thumb drive." The colonel didn't mention how they knew and Steve didn't ask. "Of course, the Chinese have come to the same conclusion and are determined to find the drive first, by any means necessary. We obviously can't let that happen. We've been following Five-0's progress for the past week in the hopes that you might uncover a clue that we missed."

"And by 'following our progress,' you mean him," Steve nodded disdainfully at Romero. "He's been following us all week, reporting back to you."

The colonel and Romero exchanged looks but did not deny the statement.

Steve leaned back and folded his arms as he addressed the colonel, but his eyes were fixed on Blake. "Let me get this straight- he followed us all week? The gunfight at the wharf- my partner was shot and we were pinned down with very little ammo and few options- we could have died, but instead of helping, he sat and watched." Steve stared the young man down and was pleased to see him flinch slightly under his glare. "Where were you, Mr. Romero? Nice, comfy, air conditioned car somewhere?"

"Commander," the colonel rumbled in warning.

"What about Wednesday?" Steve continued, ignoring the colonel. "We have you on camera in your car again, watching my partner and I get kidnapped. Did you feed them information about the sting? Were you at the warehouse when we were being tortured? Maybe grab some popcorn and a coke while Danny was being waterboarded…"

"Commander, that's enough."

"No. You know what? Screw you," Steve shot back at the colonel. He pushed his chair back, nostrils flaring as he shoved his finger in Blake Romero's face. "My partner almost died this week and you didn't do a damn thing to prevent it. The next time you decide to use Five-0 as bait, you sure as hell better let me know or else I'll- oomph!"

But whatever he would have done was lost as the guard behind him, sensing danger, stepped forward and Steve suddenly felt a stab of pain and found himself on the ground with the guard's knee in the small of his back and one arm wrapped tightly around his neck. As the guard tightened his grip around Steve's neck, four more men rushed through the door, weapons drawn. Slightly dazed as spots danced in his vision, Steve winced as his hands were pulled behind him and zip ties slipped over his wrists.

"Enough," came the colonel's voice. "Let him up."

"Yes sir." The guard pulled the still-unfastened zipties off and stepped back. Steve lay on the ground a moment, blinking as his faculties slowly caught up. Then he pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He didn't need to look behind him to know that the guard was hovering just out of reach, ready to intervene again if necessary.

"Let's try this again, Commander," Colonel Thule said sternly, "and this time, you will remain seated. That is not a suggestion."

"Yes sir." Disgruntled, Steve sat stiffly in his chair as the guard fastened one wrist to his chair with handcuffs.

With a frown reflective of not just Steve's actions but the entire situation, the colonel continued: "I realize you feel betrayed, but you need to understand that we were prepared to intervene if we felt the situation required it. Mr. Romero has kept us up-to-date on each situation as it happened, and we have had a team on standby, should it be required."

"And being waterboarded didn't require intervention?" Steve retorted unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. "What circumstances do require intervention, sir?"

This time, Blake Romero stepped forward. "We- I- lost track of you after the Chinese captured you that night. We realized the gravity of the situation, but were unable to locate the warehouse where you were being held. I apologize for the stress caused to Detective Williams and yourself, but it was outside of my control."

"I thought you were undercover with them?"

A small twitch, almost a smile, crossed Blake Romero's face. "Yes, well…" and Steve realized the situation had been a grave error on the young man's part. "I'm still very low on the food chain," Romero shrugged. "The warehouse where you were held wasn't a location I was aware of. By the time we located you, you were on the Big Island and being treated at the hospital."

"Exactly. So," the colonel rubbed his hands together, clearly eager to move on. "Any final complaints?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"You should have told me ahead of time, sir. I like to know why I'm being shot at." Steve was pushing the boundaries of acceptable behavior, but he still felt used and abused and wanted it clear where he stood. "Ask me before you use my team as bait next time."

"We couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"This is classified information, commander."

"But you're telling me now."

"Things have changed."

"What has changed?"

Colonel Thule and Romero exchanged a glance. At a short gesture from the colonel, the guards left the room and closed the door, leaving the three men behind in silence. The colonel pulled out a folder and laid it on the table. "You may share the following information with your team: Mr. Ma stole a thumb drive containing classified information and attempted to pass it to foreign agents, but was intercepted before the exchange could take place."

"But there's more," Steve guessed. There was always more. He settled back for the longer explanation.

"What I'm about to tell you cannot leave this room. You may not share this information with Detective Williams or any other member of your team. Is this clear?"

"Yes, sir."

The colonel opened the folder. "When you did a background search on Mr. Ma, it triggered several alerts for us. Much of his information hadn't yet been removed from the system, so you were able to learn quite a bit about him before we took the information down. What do you recall about his background?"

Steve frowned. Monday night was now ages ago, and the drugging incident wasn't helping his memory at all. "He's Russian. Or was. Took his wife's name when they married. That's about all I remember."

Colonel Thule nodded. "Good enough. We have reason to believe that Mr. Ma never gave up his loyalties to Soviet Russia. The country may have a new name and some new faces in Moscow, but the truth is that many of the old names and faces are still working behind the scenes toward the same goals. Russia suffered an embarrassing defeat in the Cold War. They may not admit that they lost, but the United States emerged in a far better state economically, scientifically, and socially, than their rival. Russia needed- and still needs- to save face. They want to be a dominant player. And, unlike some of their Soviet-converted-to-Capitalist neighbors, their motivations and intentions are not good."

"And what are their intentions?" Steve asked.

"Cyberterrorism."

Inside the cell, it was very quiet. Steve leaned forward and studied Mr. Ma's picture clipped inside the folder. "Cyberterrorism," he repeated slowly. "Is this about the elections?"

"Partly. Just another playground for them to test their prowess. There's no evidence Moscow actually did anything with the intel they obtained; just showing they could hack in and obtain it seems to have been the goal. We believe their little endeavor was just an exercise, a test run, if you will."

"So they're practicing for something." And if the 2016 elections were 'just' a playground, Steve was deeply concerned what the actual target might be. "What is it? What is this 'practice' for?"

"That's above your pay grade, commander. You aren't in Navy Intelligence anymore. My superiors have agreed to read you in on the information I just gave you- no more."

"With all due respect, sir…" Steve began, but the colonel held up a hand.

"You're not on this case. I'm giving you this information because this case, our case, keeps finding you. You need to be aware of what you're dealing with, and, if you should find the thumb drive, know that it is property of the US Government and you are to turn it over to me immediately. Without looking at the contents," he added seriously.

Steve pursed his lips and repressed frustrated growl. To be read in, even partially, on a case of this magnitude only to then be told "Stay away" was hardly fair in his opinion. "Sir, I believe the Five-0 task force could be a valuable asset in this case."

"You and your team can help us by looking for the missing horse. We aren't sure at this point whether the drive is hidden on the horse, or whether Mr. Ma stashed it somewhere else before his arrest. Or, if you prefer, you can focus on the drugs and gang-related violence, but anything having to do with the thumb drive or our Chinese and Russian friends is off limits. Stay out of it and pass the information to either myself or Mr. Romero."

Steve avoided looking at Mr. Romero, but he didn't miss the small (and, Steve thought, smug) nod the man gave at the colonel's instructions. Directing his attention to the colonel, he tried a different tactic. "We're out of leads, sir. We need something else to go on. A suspect, evidence, surveillance footage, something."

"Fine. You'll get your suspect," Colonel Thule nodded agreeably. "We've come across one or two people who don't have anything useful for us, but they might be helpful to you if you'd like to take down a few of these local gangs. But," he leaned forward, folding both hands on the table and looked pointedly at Steve, "in return, I expect you to steer clear of our operation and turn over any related intelligence to me. Do we have an understanding?"

Steve nodded. "Yes, sir."

…

One hour later, a blindfold was ripped from Steve's face as he was pushed out of a black SUV and onto the Palace lawn. Tumbling across the grass, he quickly picked himself up and turned around, but the van was already gone.

…

"Where the hell have you been?!"

Steve had expected an irate Danny and was rewarded with an especially irritated form of his partner marching out of his own office as he entered the Five-0 lobby. "I was detained," he said shortly. Jerry, typing away at the central console, stopped his work and looked up with interest. "And why are you in my office?" Steve added to Danny, hoping to reroute the conversation.

"Me? I'm doing the plan. Our plan. And don't change the subject," Danny continued stubbornly. "What do you mean, 'detained'? Like, detained, detained? Secret CIA black site or something?"

"I can't talk about it, D." Stepping around his desk, Steve noted the finished copy procedure on the computer and the unplugged the hard drive next to Danny's inhaler.

Danny snorted. "Can't talk about it… Wait, are those…" Leaning in, he suddenly snatched one of Steve's arm's in a strong grip. "Are those cuff marks?" His fingers briefly traced the red irritation around the wrist before Steve yanked his arm away.

"I don't want to talk about it, D."

"So they are!"

Steve snagged a water bottle from a drawer and took a long drink, using the few seconds to decide how to best respond to his partner.

"Well?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "We are not talking about this, D." Pointing to the inhaler, he cast a concerned look over his partner. "Why is this here?"

"Because it's annoying when it sits in my pocket. All it does is take up space."

Steve cocked an eyebrow. If that wasn't some b.s., then Steve didn't know what was. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Danny beat him to it.

"And don't change the subject. Why are we not talking about your little field trip?" Danny demanded. "You disappear for several hours, and when you show up again, you're all mysterious and crap and- are those grass stains on your shirt?"

Danny was interrupted as Jerry, having overheard enough to pique his curiosity, summoned a new image on the screen. "Sweet ride, dude!" he whistled.

Steve groaned. A magnified still from the security feed outside of the Palace showed him tumbling ungracefully across the lawn as a dark, unmarked SUV exited the lot behind him.

"Well, that explains the grass stains," Danny commented, "but that does not satisfactorily explain everything else."

"And you're not going to get a satisfactory explanation this time, Danny, so get used to it."

"Oh really? Why not? Who are those guys, Steven?"

Steve stopped and growled in annoyance as Jerry peered at them curiously. Taking a deep breath, he folded his arms and gave his partner a hard look. "Danny. And Jerry. Look, if you value your job, your life… if you value what you have here, at Five-0… you will shut up right now."

Perhaps it was his tone, or his glare, or his feet-spread, angry-intimidation stance, but Danny suddenly calmed. He looked around the room, then returned his gaze to his partner and asked seriously, "Is this one of those 'classified and I'll have to kill you' things?"

"Yes," Steve said seriously.

"Oh." Danny seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded. "Okay."

Jerry likewise seemed to realize this was not something to be taken lightly. "I'd rather not die today," he commented as he closed the security footage and returned to whatever he had been doing before.

"Good." Relieved, Steve ran a tired hand through his hair and his eyes fell again on the inhaler. "Do we need to go to the hospital?"

"Um yeah, about five hours ago," Danny shot back. "No point in doing it now. Dr. Karsten's shift ended a while back."

"Oh." Sheepishly, he added, "Sorry, D. I didn't know I'd be gone that long."

"Yeah, yeah," Danny waved him off. "It's fine. I got a little out of breath climbing the stairs, but it's fine. I ended up not needing it," he explained, answering Steve's earlier question. "As long as we go tomorrow, I'm sure one more day won't be a problem."

"I'll take you first thing in the morning."

Danny wrinkled his nose. "How about around lunch? Tomorrow's Saturday- you know, weekend? Day off? I'd kind of like to sleep in. You can go swim, run, bike, or whatever else you do at those ungodly hours on your day off, and I'll get re-acquainted with my bed."

"You spent two nights away from home. I don't think your bed has forgotten you." But Steve was looking forward to his own bed as well, and if he slept in an extra hour or two tomorrow morning, Danny wouldn't know. "Do we have a suspect in interrogation?"

"Do we have a what?" Danny's sudden swing in demeanor would have been funny if Steve weren't still irritated from his conversation with Romero. "No we don't have a suspect! How could we? You didn't catch the guy!"

"Wrong guy," Steve muttered as he unloaded his weapons, which had been dumped out with him, and returned them to the gun cabinet. "Have you checked interrogation?"

"Yes."

"Recently?"

"Um, no. Criminals don't just say, 'Eh, I think I'll turn myself in today. Let me just walk down to the basement and cuff myself to this chair.' It doesn't happen, babe."

…

But it had. Steve couldn't help the small smirk that flickered across his face when Danny saw the suspect nice and neatly cuffed and slouched over in the chair downstairs. After a solid 60 seconds of silence, Danny wordlessly summoned his partner and exited the room.

"How…" Danny pointed at the closed interrogation room door and stopped. He shook his head as though clearing water from his ears and tried again. "How on earth did that even happen? Do I want to know?" He stopped, pinched his nose, and shook his head. "You know what, never mind. No. I don't want to know. I don't care to know. Just… just tell me who this is."

"I don't know," Steve replied honestly.

"You don't know."

"No."

"But you knew he was here."

"I had a hunch, yeah."

"Well, he's pretty out of it right now." Danny nudged the door open and peeked inside again. "Actually, if I didn't know better, I'd say he's unconscious."

"Yeah…" Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "He might be," he confirmed.

"You can't interrogate an unconscious man."

"No…" Steve sighed and Danny caught a hint of frustration- or was it disappointment?- in his voice. "I'll call Max over and have him checked out. The suspect can stay there until morning."

"Cuffed to the chair?" Even with their substantial immunity, Danny smelled a lawsuit.

"He can stay in the room. On the floor. I'll have his leg cuffed to the chair. And maybe put in a camping pad." He cocked an eye at Danny. "Does that meet your approval?"

"Not really but…" Danny could feel his own bed at home calling to him. "As long as Max gives the okay, it'll work, yeah."

"Good. Go home, D. Get some rest."

"Yeah, yeah." Danny waved him off as he trudged tiredly toward the elevator. "Rest," he muttered under his breath. "What is this mysterious stuff, rest?"

A/N: I really, really wanted to whump Steve in this last chapter, but it just didn't fit with what I had planned for later, so I gave the plot bunny a good, hard kick and kept moving. Sorry. But I went ahead and wrote the Steve whump scenes for later!