SEE YOU IN MY NIGHTMARES
Victor Hesse.
She said Victor Hesse.
"Vic…Victor," Sam murmured. "Victor. Victor Hesse. Hesse killed John. John. Oh my…" Jazz watched helplessly as Sam lost touch with her surroundings. Jazz was 3000 miles away and could do nothing but watch as Sam spiraled into an abyss of memories and terror.
The bile finally won out and Sam quickly grabbed the waste can under the desk. Jazz struggled to keep herself in her seat. Though physically impossible at the moment, she desperately wanting to just wrap her arms around her friend. Jazz feared Sam would rupture something, she was so violently ill. Sam lifted her head back up into Jazz's line of vision but it wasn't there for long. She got up and took the waste can out of view. Jazz could only sit and wait until Sam returned, which she hoped wouldn't be too long. Jazz was legitimately scared for Sam's mental and physical well being. She contemplated calling Matty but knew Sam would be furious with her. She kept herself busy trying to dig for more info as to what happened in Hawaii that day.
Several minutes later, Sam came back into the room, her eyes blood shot from the pressure of the vomiting. She didn't sit, couldn't sit. Instead, Sam started pacing back and forth in the small space, muttering under her breath, running her hands through her hair. It took several more minutes for Jazz to realize what she was saying.
"It's my fault. John's dead. It's my fault. He found me. John's dead and it's my fault. How did he find me? Mae. God, he came for Mae. He found me. Why didn't he just come for me? John's dead. It's all my fault. I have to protect Mae." Sam kept this up for several minutes until…
"Dammit, Sam, snap out of it!" Jazz yelled. And snap Sam did. She had forgotten Jazz was sitting there on her large monitor, witnessing the horror and pain searing through Sam's soul. Sam turned to look at the screen and saw tears spilling out of Jazz's big brown eyes. "Sorry, honey girl, but you're scaring me."
Sam nodded. She understood. Jazz was seeing the side of Sam she always kept buried. That's what they were taught to do. Show no emotion. Learn to mask and hide the emotion. Time to bury it again. Put away the emotions. Compartmentalize. You're here to play a part, a part that is not you.
Well, this is me, Sam thought. There was no getting past that. John McGarrett was dead. Just like Ben Kingston was dead. Both at the hands of Victor Hesse. Both because of Sam. This was all Sam's fault. All she could do now was get to Hawaii, get Mae out and settled somewhere new. Then, she would finish what she started.
She would put a bullet in Victor's brain. Just like he did to Ben.
"I need to get to Hawaii as soon as possible. I have to get Mae to a safe house. Hesse found out about me, found out I'm still alive. He's doing this to torture me, that's what it has to be, right? I still don't quite understand why he didn't just come after me instead. Was killing John just an opportunity that presented itself? He must know what he was to me, just like Mae. Maybe he was getting impatient or he couldn't get to Mae, maybe that's why he…" Sam tried to bite back on another wave of nausea.
"Sam, that's not it," Jazz began.
"It has to be, Jazz. What else could it be?"
"This wasn't about you, Sam. This was about Steve," Jazz winced. For that moment, Jazz was happy to be back in Maryland and nowhere near Sam. She wasn't going to take this well.
"Steve? What the hell are you talking about?" Sam queried.
"While you were, um, cleaning up, I found out a few more details about this afternoon."
"And? What does Steve have to do with any of this?"
"Steve and his SEAL team were in the middle of a prison transport in South Korea…"
"Who were they transporting, Jazz?"
"Anton Hesse."
"Oh my God," Sam gasped, running her hands down her face. The puzzle was starting to come together. "Victor used Steve to find Anton." Jazz recognized that was a statement, not a question.
"It would appear. He was willing to 'make a trade': John for Anton."
"Never would have happened," Sam whispered. "Victor would have killed John without blinking an eye."
"I know," Jazz responded, just as quietly.
"Do you have the transcript of the conversation?"
"No. This has only happened within the past few hours, Sam. I'm surprised I have the information I have, not to mention the access to it. And Sam? There's one more thing."
"Yeah?"
"Anton Hesse is dead."
"What?" Sam didn't dare to hope at least one of the bastards had been wiped out.
"From what I have here, it appears there was an ambush on the transport by Hesse's men and in the firefight, somehow, Anton was shot and killed."
Instinctively, Sam asked, "Steve?" Jazz nodded. Steve had taken Anton out.
Sam nodded a sigh of relief. All of a sudden, the fatigue caused by the emotional roller coaster of the last hour hit her like a mack truck. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hope when she opened her eyes, this was all a nightmare. "Jazz, I've got a lot to do. I've got to find a flight home, get a call in to Wickes to let him know I'm going on leave, I've got to get Red to the kennel. I'm going to go but if you come across anything else, can you let me know?"
Jazz sensed that Sam was trying to build up those famous walls, to keep everything at bay. She agreed, nonetheless, letting Sam sign off the transmission first. While Sam sat staring at the blank screen, on the other side of the country, Jazz really settled in to work. After begging off her date, her next call was one she knew Sam would be pissed about, but she did it anyways.
"Webber."
"Matty, it's Jazz. We need to talk about Sam."
Sam managed to get a flight booked for early the next morning while she called Commander Glenn Wickes, her commanding officer at LAPD SWAT. She tried to keep the conversation vague, but she knew Wickes was smarter than the average bear. He knew the basics of her background before she joined the LAPD and also knew about her close friendship with John McGarrett. He was truly devastated for her.
"Sam, I am so sorry about all of this," Wickes said. "From everything you ever told me about him, he seemed like a really great guy. You know we're all here for you, right?"
"I do, Glenn, thanks," she replied.
"Listen, why don't you let me handle Red for you. Don't put him in a kennel. I know he loves the staff over there but if you're out of town for a week or more, it's just going to put a lot of stress on him. Let me bring him here. He loves Bo & Duke and he's great with the kids. I know Janie won't mind at all. Please, let me do this for you."
Wickes was such a good guy, an exemplary leader and a great friend. Sam found herself agreeing with his idea because he was right. As much as the kennel would be fine, being with Glenn's family would actually be better for Red and Sam would definitely feel more at ease knowing he was getting the best care with them. Sam thanked him for not only volunteering to take Red in but also handling the paperwork necessary to get her leave started and telling the team she would be gone indefinitely.
With the most immediate needs addressed, Sam decided to shut down the SCIF for the night. She unlocked one of the grey filing cabinets and pulled out the dossiers on Victor and Anton Hesse. She grabbed one of her secure laptops and locked the SCIF down, heading to the living room to plop down on her favorite piece of furniture, a wide chaise lounge. Before she delved further into her files, she decided to call Mae, rather than text her.
"Sweetie?" Mae answered tentatively.
"Hey Mae." She sounded so tired, Mae thought. "Got my flight info handled. Red's going to stay with Wickes and his family while I'm there."
"That's good. He'll be fine. I hate to ask, but did you find anything?"
"Yeah. I'll fill you in when I get there. I don't believe you're in any danger but please stay with Jim & Paula tonight, ok? I'll get you tomorrow as soon as I land and then we'll go from there."
"Ok, sweetie, please get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow. I love you."
"Love you, too, Aunt Mae. Good night." With that, Sam hung up the phone and turned to the shelf behind her, pouring herself a good, stiff drink. She nodded heavenward. "Here's to you John. I swear I'll make this right." Sam swung her legs up on the chaise and got comfortable so she could go through everything she had on the Hesse brothers. After spending quite a bit of time studying the files, making new notes, trying to make sense of everything, Sam put her laptop down and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was nearing midnight and she still had a ton to do. She noticed a text from Wickes that he would swing by in the morning to pick up Red, so not to worry about him, though he knew she would definitely worry about 'her guy'. Sam knew she needed to pack, get everything in order, but she was just exhausted. She leaned her head back and before she knew it, she had drifted off.
It came as it always did. Pieces. Snippets. Like a movie preview. Just small bits, no full scenes. At least, not until the end.
Munich, Germany
The restaurant. A small dining room off to the side. A warm, inviting fire burning in the fireplace.
The younger one was sitting at the table. A leer on his face.
Anton.
Ben squeezing her hand. The fire glinting off his silver wedding band.
Sam absently fingering her wedding band.
Ben's smile.
The leer on Anton's face lingering on her. She was uncomfortable.
Something was off.
The nearly imperceptible nod of his head. The sizzle of electricity on the back of her neck. The fall into an abyss of darkness and silence…
Then there was the hood, the duct tape. She couldn't see anything.
Ben was grunting. Sam could sense him…and someone else. Wait, two of them.
They were beating him. She felt the restraints, tried to fight against them. She felt the needle prick into her arm. Again, into the abyss.
The hood was ripped off her head. She never was able to figure out how long she had been under.
Light. Too bright. She clinched her eyes shut against it. Someone grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked her head up.
Victor.
The sick smile. The backhand across the face. She opened her eyes.
Ben.
Bloody. Beaten. Practically broken.
Anton still hovering, still leering at them both.
The next few…hours…days…blurred. Constant pain. Very little detail. Mercifully.
Finally awake and alone, Sam kept fighting to get out of the restraints. Too little, too late, she thought. She could hear angry voices, getting louder by the moment.
Footsteps.
An explosion.
The door bursting open. Victor and Anton. They were arguing. The drugs and the beatings had taken a toll. Sam couldn't understand what they were saying. Until…
"Cruz was supposed to keep them off the scent, for fuck's sake," Victor said.
Cruz? Their handler, Cruz?
"Just kill 'em and get it over with. I'm bored. And they'll be here in a matter of minutes. Let's just go," Anton replied lazily.
"No, we need more time with her," Victor mumbed.
Her? Me? They were talking about Sam.
"Well, the gate's blown, they'll breach any minute. Let's just cut our losses. We'll get what he needs another way. This isn't worth it." Again, Anton sounded bored, put out.
Him? Cruz? What was going on?
Sam looked up. Saw the resignation in Victor's eyes.
Then she saw the guns in their hands.
Close range.
No way out.
This was it.
Ben saw it all, too. He tried to lunge. Sam looked on in horror as he tried to throw himself in front of her, despite being restrained to the chair. She felt the blood before she felt the pain.
Sam tried to twist and lunge, like Ben. It helped. Very little.
Heat. Left shoulder.
Pain. Right thigh.
Graze. Right ear.
Then, her right side. That was it. That was the one that would overtake the other shots. She knew that was the one that would ultimately force her last breath.
She was on the floor, on her side. That's when she heard the moan. The left. Look to the left, she thought.
Ben's grey eyes. Such pain and sorrow.
Victor walked up between them. One last shot.
The last thing Sam saw was the bullet rip through Ben's temple.
She didn't remember screaming.
Because then, she didn't. But she was now.
Red was up barking, fearing he missed something. He stood over her, protecting her.
Sam found herself on the floor, next to the chaise she had dozed off in. She was curled up into herself, tears flowing down her face as the nightmare of six years ago once again took hold.
How could it not?
Victor Hesse had once again taken one of the men she loved most in the world.
There was only one man left Victor could take from her. And Sam would die before she let anything happen to him. So, there was only one thing left to do.
Kill Victor Hesse.