Steve called Kamekona as he neared the airstrip.
"Hey Big Guy"
"MCG! Long time, no see. You haven't been to lunch for a few days bruder? I got a new chili lime flavored shrimp I need you to test out for me"
"Yeah, I've been out of town. I'll stop by soon, I promise. Hey, I need a favor"
"Undercover work maybe? I kept the cammo gear from Halloween you know. I'm always ready to expand my business"

Steve smiled adding, "No, nothing that exciting. I'm going to be flying into Oahu in about six hours and I need to….um shall I say... come in under the radar"
"I got ya MCG. I'll call my cuz' and I'll be there for you"
"Thank you brother"
Kamekona's cousin owned an airstrip and the big guy stored his helicopter there. This would make things easier. He wouldn't have to answer anyone's questions …..at least not tonight.

The heavy rain provided a good distraction for the SEAL as the few employees at the airstrip were all inside the buildings. He pulled in to the far end of the runway and saw the Governors plane parked outside a hangar about 200 yards away. He shut off the trucks headlights and drove to the hangar parking a few feet from the plane. Hoping he had gone unnoticed he grabbed the two duffel bags and raced through the rain to the plane. Thunder and lightning filled the skies and with the rains he knew he would have a very 'bumpy' flight. Firing up the engine he began to slowly taxi towards the end of the runway. He continually glanced back and not seeing anyone exiting the buildings he continued down the tarmac turning at the end and picking up speed as he began his takeoff. Inside the main building three men came racing out totally shocked as they watched the plane take flight.

One of the employees addressed the shift supervisor, Martin Blalock "What in the hell Martin?"
"I don't know. It must have been the pilot, he had the key"
"Aren't you going to call the boss?"
"Not yet"
"How are we going to explain that we didn't see this? We're in their playing cards and we missed this!"
"I need time to think"
The other two men nodded and they re-entered the building as they continued to watch the tail-lights of the eight passenger Cessna Citation Bravo disappear into the storm filled skies.

Steve was a skilled pilot and thankfully he was able to fly safely in the severe weather conditions. He hadn't had much sleep at all though and as soon his 'highs' began to subside he would become drowsy. And as with anyone addicted this gave Steve the excuse he needed to keep pumping the junk into his veins. Steve McGarrett was in trouble and he didn't even know it.

At the same time Steve was flying towards Hawaii the rescue team was flying into the larger International Airport in Everett, Washington. They arrived a little after nine o'clock and were met by the team of CIA Agents who took them to their Hotel room. There, they ordered dinner into the room and discussed their plans for finding and rescuing Steve and Matt the following morning.

******************
Steve approached the airstrip at about eleven thirty and flipping the switch on the panel he sighed deeply and then contacted the air traffic controller on the ground. The owner of the airstrip, Kamekona's cousin Kahana Makali'i came across the airwaves and guided Steve safely to the ground motioning for him to park in a hangar at the far end of the strip.

After Steve shut down the engine and exited the plane he shook hands with the two big Hawaiian men.
"Kahana, thank you Sir"
"Of course Commander"
Kamekona looked at the SEAL with concern, "McG what's this all about? You don't look too good"
"I'm fine. I can't say much Kamekona I'm sorry. I need you to trust me"
"You know we trust you. That's why we're here brudah"

Steve turned to Kahana, "This is the Governor's private plane. I'll be contacting him soon and I'm sure he'll be sending someone to pick it up tomorrow" Steve noticed the tension in the man's face, "Kahana, it's okay. I used the plane on a case. Governor Denning gave me use of the plane, it's okay"

Kamekona placed a hand on his cousin's arm, "Cuz, if McG says it's good…it's good"
Kahana extended his hand and shook Steve's, "Okay man, no worries"
Kamekona then asked, "Do you need a ride home braugh?"
"Yeah buddy, that would be great….Thanks, both of you"
After final handshakes, Kahana re-entered his building and Steve grabbed his bags and followed Kamekona to his vehicle.

Steve laid his head back against the headrest closing his eyes, not wanting Kamekona to get a good look at him. They drove in silence to Steve's house and as they turned onto his street Kamekona spoke quietly, "Steve, we're here brudah"
Steve's response was both confusing and frightening to the big man as he stated, "Yeah Parks, we need to get Jack out there now"
"What? Hey, McG are you sure you're okay?"

Steve turned towards him quickly coming back to reality but he was sweating profusely and his voice shook, "Yeah…..yeah, sorry man. I'm fine" After pulling into the driveway he exited the jeep and after thanking Kamekona again he made his way into his house.

Tossing the bags onto the couch he moved into the kitchen. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and downed it quickly. Taking a second beer he went back into the living room and sitting on the couch he stared at the bags next to him. As he sipped the beer his hands began to shake as his desire for another fix began to overwhelm him. He was tired…..so fucking tired. He had to get to the shed. Once he got there everything would be okay…once again he justified the drug use. He needed to stay alert, he had to get to the shed... without any further thought he pulled the meth and a needle from the pack and moments later he felt the high, this time intensified even more by the beer. "The shed…..I have to get to the shed" Setting the beer onto the coffee table he moved up the stairs as fast as his stiff and bruised body would move.

He went straight to his bedroom, stripping off his dirty and bloodied clothing leaving them on the floor next to his bed. Moving to his dresser he pulled out a t shirt, pants and boxers. Closing the drawer his eyes were drawn to the picture….of Jack. He picked up the picture and stared at it as tear drops fell dampening the glass. Taking the picture with him he moved to the bathroom and started the shower. He stood under the hot steaming water for a long time. The water hurt, but felt good all at the same time. He ran his hands over his bruised flesh watching as the blood and dirt ran down the drain.

After exiting the shower he stood at the sink and looking into the mirror, what he saw shocked him. He had been beaten and tortured before and the cuts and bruises didn't bother him, they would heal. But his eyes…the eyes staring back at him were dark, sunken and hollow. Dark rings encircled them and the pupils were fully dilated. Suddenly Steve was overcome with rage, a rage he had never before felt. He hated the man staring back at him…this weak and pathetic man staring back at him….this broken man.

He screamed in anger and frustration as he pounded his fists into the mirror shattering it cutting his hands up horribly. Blood soon covered the vanity and sink as the pain finally began to register in his drug hazed brain. "SHIT MCGARRETT!" Grabbing gauze and tape from the cabinet above the sink he rinsed his hands under running water and then he wrapped and taped them tightly. After dressing he went back to the bedroom grabbing a flannel shirt, duffel bag and a couple of blankets from the closet along with a pillow. Stopping back in the bathroom he put first aid supplies, a bottle of Tylenol and a few towels into the bag along with the picture and then he made his way downstairs.

Putting on the flannel he went into the kitchen and put several items of food into the bag. His keys were on the counter and he took everything out to his truck. From the garage he took two sleeping bags and two unopened cases of water as well. He then walked back into the house and to the couch. He picked up the beer and as he took a drink he glanced down at the open duffel bag. As he saw the vials of meth, the needles and the rubber tubing the rage he had felt a short time ago upstairs again took control of him. Picking up the bag he hurled it, along with the half empty beer across the room. The beer bottled shattered as it hit the wall and the drugs and paraphernalia flew all over the room.

He was sweating and breathing fast, clenching his fists as blood was beginning to soak through on his left hand. Picking up the bag holding the numerous guns and ammunition he walked from the house, but he didn't get far. Once again the pull of the drugs was too much for him and halfway to the car he turned back and cursing to himself the entire time he re-entered the house. Kneeling on the floor he placed eight vials along with needles and tubing into the bag and soon he was in his Silverado driving towards shed.