"I have every confidence that Chin Ho Kelly will not make it through the day."
He woke up to a voice every bit as sharp as the face and memories it stirred within him. He could feel the prick of a needle in his neck and a knife in his back, could see the angles of a madly grinning face.
His boss was back. The voices in his head seemed far away, as if he had just been dreaming them. He probably had been dreaming them.
"You had every confidence that our guest wouldn't start remembering his past, so you'll forgive me if I don't have every confidence in your every confidence." He sat up and jumped at the clatter of headphones hitting the floor. He hadn't fallen asleep listening to something…had he? "Besides, Kelly's lasted this long already."
"Yes, but they've nearly lost him several times since our drug-induced setback. The human body can only take so much stress. If he appears to have beaten the odds after all, Polina is ready and waiting to administer another dose of insulin." He crept nearer to the bedroom door and pressed himself against the wall. Listening felt right and wrong at the time; he doubted his boss would appreciate him eavesdropping.
"If you say so. As for me, I'm not banking on a novice like her. How's everything else coming along?"
"Brilliantly. Denning has done exactly as I predicted and reformed Five-0, and my sources tell me that they're well on their way to cracking the case wide open, if indeed they haven't done so already." His boss chuckled. "I do hope to obtain a copy of their reaction to the 911 call. I've heard it was more than enjoyable."
"If you hadn't insisted on splitting the production up, you'd have it available right here," Grunts complained. Neither man spoke after that.
His mind reeled with all of the information he'd just internalized. His boss was keeping tabs on a governor, presumably the governor of Hawaii, and Chin Ho Kelly wasn't yet dead. Something about Five-0...he felt like that should have some memories attached to it, but just like everything about his past, he couldn't quite draw them to the surface. One tiny, dark corner of his mind came to attention as he struggled to remember, and he had the briefest flash of a large room with several computer screens hanging on one wall. The image was gone before he could really focus on it, and he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"Have you briefed him on today's mission?" His boss's voice broke through the heavy silence, startling him.
"Twice before he went to La La Land, but he was weird the whole time. Couldn't sit still, wouldn't pay attention…I started the recording you left for him on before I went to sleep, so hopefully that helps keep him focused. Are you sure we should be moving him to strictly audio already?"
His breath caught in his chest. Who were they talking about, and why did the dark corner of his mind suddenly want to find out so badly?
"For a man with so little experience in this line of work, you are simply brimming with suggestions this morning, aren't you?" He winced at his boss's terse tone and imagined Grunts was doing the same. "I hired you to do what I said, not critique it."
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
"You do raise a valid point, however." Someone began to pace the living room floor. He pressed himself closer to the wall and opened the door slightly to watch. "Our guest, as you defined him as earlier, has been trained to withstand torture of the most exquisite variety. Breaking him was not and is still not an easy task; his subconscious mind is still withholding information about Shelburne, information that I am certain he possesses. At this point, the only way to mold him to my whims is to use a combination of factors."
"So why just the audio now, sir? If you don't mind me asking."
The footsteps stopped. "I am afraid that I became a little too effective in my last meeting with him. Had Polina not stolen some blood just in case, I doubt he would have made it through the session. His body needs a chance to recover, and his mind is understandably operating at a lower level during his recuperation, thus making the audio files sufficient."
"I see. Well, maybe that explains why he was so out of touch last night after we watched our nearly-snuff film."
His mind reeled again and he sucked in a breath. The nearly-snuff film had to be the hidden camera broadcast of the nurse's attempt at killing Captain Kelly. He had been the one to watch that with Grunts.
They were talking about him. Torturing him. Breaking him. Almost killing him.
He didn't know how to cope with this revelation. That dark corner of his mind seemed to taunt him, brightened like it had always known what was really happening. The larger part of his mind screamed for him to rush out and confront the men, but that same corner told him to just go with the plans and wait for a better moment.
He listened to the small corner.
"Go and wake him. I want to go over the plans once more."
He rushed back to the bed and picked up the headphones, placing them back near his ears as Grunts' heavy footsteps clomped towards the room. As the door opened, he suddenly realized how sore he was. His entire body seemed to ache with new pains, but that corner of his mind told him that those pains had been there for a long time, just covered up by recordings like the one still playing through those earphones.
"Hey, get up. We've got work to do." The headphones disappeared, and he opened his eyes to meet Grunts' glare. "The boss is waiting."
"What time is it?" he murmured.
"Almost seven-thirty, meaning you're running behind already. C'mon, let's go."
He and the portly man walked back into the living room, where their boss stood in front of a large television screen. The Asian man was the very image of militarism, with his hands folded neatly in the small of his back, his legs stiff and still, and his head held high. His face didn't have to be visible for him to radiate power. God, he hated him. Drawing upon some part of himself he hadn't known existed, he managed to control his temper. "Sir."
"I trust you are ready for your mission?" He couldn't answer because, as Grunts had said earlier, he had been too distracted the previous evening to get the full scoop. His boss's shoulders stiffened further. "When I ask you a question, I expect an answer."
"Not exactly, sir." He coughed as phlegm began to form in his throat again. Grunts shoved a pill and a bottle of water into his hands.
"Then I suggest you prepare yourself, because you leave in five minutes." His boss moved to the side to reveal a photo of the blond man. He had to choke back a smile at the sight of the man with a large wad of material and a string hanging from his nose, but also at the brown bag one of his hands clutched. The scent of warm sugar and fried dough wafted from that corner of his mind. "Is something funny?"
"Just his face, sir. He doesn't look very happy."
His boss sighed. "He should look less happy in about two hours. Now, about your mission…"
"Help, thief!" He pointed his gun at the steel door of one of the warehouses and pulled the trigger twice. "Help!"
Just as his boss had planned, footsteps pounded towards the warehouse he stood by. The officer tasked with guarding the crime scene leaped around the corner, reaching for his gun and his radio simultaneously. The novice was too late, however, and was struck down with a sound hit to the back of his head. Blood began to pour from the wound before he hit the ground.
He cursed and pushed down on the cop's wound, hoping to staunch it in case he began to bleed out. He didn't want more deaths on his conscience than necessary, particularly with that once dark corner of his mind ever brightening and expanding, but he hadn't worked out how to avoid them altogether.
After several seconds of profuse bleeding, the flow began to ebb. He pulled a roll of gauze he'd stolen from Grunts from his pocket and used it to haphazardly wrap the officer's head before injecting him with a sedative. His job was to keep this officer away from the warehouse, and even if he wasn't going to kill him he couldn't bring himself to not at least attempt to comply with the mission.
As he began his trek back to the crime scene, a flash of light and a grumble caught his attention. The sun glinted off a silver car door as the blond man slammed it shut and ducked under the yellow tape. He didn't even check to make sure he was alone first.
Either he was a bad cop or in a hurry. He suspected the latter.
He sped up his pace to a jog when he heard shouting from the cordoned-off warehouse. Ducking inside brought the shouts to a form of clarity, and he couldn't help but smirk. "…swear on all things holy to you and yours, I am going to shoot you square in the face if you don't drop that weapon this very instance. Do not test me, because I am not in the mood for games right now."
"Why don't you drop yours instead?" The blond man whirled around as he approached with his gun drawn. "Two against one doesn't seem like real good odds to me."
The blond man made a strange choked sound as his mouth opened and closed several times. His partner barked a laugh from the other side of the warehouse at the noise. "What's the matter, wise guy? Can't take a loss?"
The words seemed to bring the blond man back to reality, and he tightened his grip on his SIG. "If you think I'm going down that easy, you're insane."
"I don't think you have much of a choice," he said.
"You obviously can't kill me. You brought me all the way down here instead of sniping me like you did Sang Min, so you must want me for something." He blinked. "Oh, yeah, I know it was you who offed him. I guess I should really thank you for saving my little girl, but I'm really not in the mood right now seeing as you have an effing gun pointed at my face, so maybe-"
"Enough!" his partner shouted. "Last warning, pig. Drop it or die."
The blond man didn't move his gaze. "If you say so."
It happened so quickly that he didn't have time to react. His partner shot, but the cop was faster, having rolled to the side and ducked behind some large crates before he could even get close enough to grab him. He growled and gestured for his partner to go around the other way as he followed the cop's footsteps.
He hadn't expected the blond man to stop in his tracks a few seconds into the race. "Look, you have to listen to me. I can help you, but you have to come with me. I know you shot Chin, but I also know you wouldn't have done it unless something was very wrong. I just...I can't do it again. Please don't do that to me again."
"You don't know anything about me!" he said loudly. His voice cracked as his throat thickened, but he couldn't tell if it was his illness or emotion that made it do so. The cop flinched at the words, like they were a bullet into his own clavicle. "What makes you think I didn't enjoy sticking that cop like the pig he was?!"
The blond man sucked in a deep breath. "I heard the 911 call. You were devastated, and I get that. Don't make the same mistake again."
He had been devastated. How had he forgotten? He'd been absolutely torn up about shooting Chin Ho Kelly, especially after he heard his name. And when that idiot had come along and shot him in the back, he'd wanted to die himself.
But why? Why did he feel that way? Why had he forgotten? Why couldn't he think clearly? Why did this stupid blond cop make so much sense? "Why?!" he shouted aloud, stomping his foot in fury at his own sieve-like mind.
"Don't move or your brains're gonna be all over this factory floor." His partner had sneaked up on the cop and put his gun to his head. "One false move and blam. Drop your gun, now."
The cop squeezed his eyes shut in frustration but did as he was instructed. The metallic thud it made echoed throughout the factory, and the sound made his head ache.
"Good man. But you know, it's probably going to end up there anyhow, once we've milked you for information." The other man laughed. "Which do you prefer, haole pig? Should we kill your daughter in front of you, or should we let her watch you die first?"
The cop's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "If you touch a hair on Grace's head, you will die. That's a promise."
Grace. That name sounded almost as familiar as Chin Ho Kelly.
"Well you won't be able to do anything about it, now will you?"
The cop's eyes refocused on his. "No, but I won't have to. Will I, Steven?"
Steven?
"You'd kill anybody who tried to hurt Gracie."
And he realized that the cop was right.
That beautiful, fragile little girl would never be hurt on his watch.
And his name was Steven.
He was Steven McGarrett. Steve. Lieutenant Commander McGarrett. The ever-expanding part of his mind that seemed to have some sort of understanding rejoiced at the revelation.
"Enough talking! Get a move on." The other gunman cocked his gun and pressed it into the cop's head.
Steve lost control at the gesture. Before he knew what he was doing, his aim had switched from the haole's forehead to the Hawaiian's, and his thumb had pulled back the hammer, and his finger had pulled the trigger.
And the cop scurried away from the hands that held him as a hole bloomed between the other gunman's eyes. The large man swayed for a moment before stumbling backwards into a crate, his gun clattering to the floor. He slid down to join it, his chest no longer moving and his eyes still wide open.
His breath quickening, Steve turned his weapon back on the cop, hoping to salvage the mission even in the light of his betrayal, but the blond had already gotten to his gun. He raised it to meet Steve's.
As they stood, Steve's mind began to collapse. Everything but the guns and the cop's face began to fade into darkness, and his thoughts drifted away. He wasn't sure he would be able to fight much more.
He wasn't sure he wanted to.
A/N: Aloha! Since my last chapter was kind of lacking in substance and length, I decided to give you an extra long submission today. And what a joy this one was to write!
I've actually had the next (last!) chapter of this story written since before I even posted it. Remember that dream I said I had of a confrontation between two characters? You just read the first half of it. Since I already have it done, I'll get it up for all ya'll tomorrow. That way you won't have to wait too long for some resolution.
Mahalo once again to Forest Rose for her help, and to everyone who reviewed! I've become rather slackadaisy about replying, but I still read every single review and I greatly appreciate them.
Until next time, friends!