The team was still focused on Fielding and his explanation of Riley, when they were startled by a sharp crackle of electricity, accompanied by a violent flicker of the lights in the building.
Steve was the first to make it through the door of the small infirmary, and his eyes frantically scanned the open space for Riley. He spotted her, holding her hand to her mouth, and looking at him sheepishly. HIs long stride carried him to her side in seconds.
"Riley?" he asked, concerned, reaching for her hand. He pulled it away, and winced at the sight of a flash burn on her thumb.
"Stupid mistake," Riley said. "I was distracted . . . let my thumb complete a circuit. Good news, though, I managed to get one of the CPUs running again. Sort of."
"May I?" Joe had grabbed some cream and a roll of gauze from the infirmary and joined Steve and Riley at the long, narrow workstation. Steve instinctively reached for the supplies, but Joe had reached for Riley's hand, and she had hesitantly extended it to him. Steve resisted the impulse to shove Joe away, but he watched closely as Joe dabbed cream onto the burn and wrapped it with a thin layer of gauze, tying it off neatly.
"Shelburne said that your loyalties were with the subject, not the project," Fielding said. He was being propped up by Danny.
"He insisted on coming out," Danny said, apologetic.
Riley had managed to connect the CPU to a monitor. She shoved the mangled keyboard aside, replacing it with her portable one. Data began to flicker across the cracked screen; distorted, but still somewhat readable.
"Tell us what we're looking at," Joe said, looking at Fielding.
"You don't know?" Fielding asked, surprised.
"I was never read in on the particulars of the science," Joe said. "The program was kept deliberately compartmentalized. I only knew the big picture - the primary phases."
Fielding shuffled gingerly to the monitor. "Gamma waves, beta waves," he pointed. "In real time."
Riley's eyes widened. "You mean, right this minute?"
"Yes. It's being read somewhere else, too, I can assure you. Pain receptor readings, biological readings," he continued to point at different lines waving across the screen. "And if we go to a different screen," he added, his fingers moving across the keyboard, "we get a recording of previous readings. "For example, here we have a flood of endorphins - that would have been the first suggestibility test. And here, pain receptors spike. When positive reinforcement doesn't work, negative reinforcement is applied. And here, the pain receptors recede. That would have been when . . . well, I'm sorry. That's when you would have complied with the suggestibility. Again, I'm so sorry."
"Wait, what are you talking about," Riley said. "What do you mean, when I complied with the suggestibility?"
"I'm sorry; to be blunt, when you killed Dr. Charlie Fong," Fielding said.
Riley looked at Steve, unsure of how much information she should give away.
"What if we told you that Charlie Fong isn't dead," Steve said, watching Fielding closely for his reaction.
Fielding looked completely confused. "But, the pain would have been excruciating; the feedback showed an enormous spike directly in the pain center of the brain. And then, it receded. The only way that should have worked is for the suggestion to be followed by the subject. Clearly, there was some sort of compliance; because the subject - sorry, Riley - didn't lose consciousness. I don't understand."
"I took a clean shot," Riley said, shrugging. "And I told Charlie that he needed to be dead, except not really dead. It's pretty hazy. But I didn't kill Charlie; I took a deliberate clean shot." She turned to Chin and Kono, her eyes filled with anguish. "I'm so sorry; I didn't want to hurt him. It was . . . the pain was too much, I couldn't -" She broke off as Chin wrapped an arm around her and kissed her temple.
"You did great, Riley," Chin assured her.
"That shouldn't have been possible," Fielding said, looking at Riley in amazement. He turned and looked at Steve and Joe. "I knew it," he said. "I knew Shelburne had underestimated . . . good for you. Good for you, Riley."
Danny shook his head. This was messed up, is what it was: science fiction, gamma and beta waves, and Joe looking so proud, because he'd taught Riley to take a clean shot . . . this was seriously messed up, and he wasn't even on the clock.
Riley was studying the readouts with interest. "Jerry is going to be so mad that he's not here to see this," she said.
"Especially this part," Fielding said, his pain forgotten for the moment as he explained the readouts. "See this? The beta waves are absolutely off the charts. Usually, your gamma waves are stronger."
"What's the difference?" Chin asked.
"Beta waves measure emotional response; gamma waves measure processing and higher logical order thinking. Here, right here, the beta waves completely overwhelm every other measurement. I actually thought it was going to fry the system," Fielding said. "You can see here, the timestamp . . . "
"Son of a bitch," Steve said quietly. "The overlook."
"And then here, we lost all readings. All biologicals. Until here; at this timestamp. There was a definitive event, and at that point, the monitoring system went from localized, to fully integrated with your central nervous system," Fielding said.
"Her heart stopped, and they started it again," Steve said.
Kono had her hand over her mouth; tears in her eyes. She hadn't been told.
"Electrical shock?" Fielding asked.
"Epinephrine," Steve supplied.
Fielding nodded his head. "Chemical catalyst. It launched the system into full integration with her central nervous system."
"So they did it, then," Joe said. "They've been working on this technology since the sixties."
"Did what?" Steve asked.
"Neural implants" Fielding said. "Developed many steps further, of course, but the same basic principal as cochlear or retinal implants. Just smaller, faster, and stronger. The science has always been there, but Special Activities Division is one of the few organizations with the wherewithal to take it this far."
"Take it this far, and use it for something other than medical applications," Danny said darkly.
"Oh, man. Jerry is gonna be so, so mad that he's not here," Riley said, her eyes wide. "Okay, so neural implants, but that only happened when I got here, to Hawaii. Joe says that he suspected something when he took me to Frank's. Tell me about the DNA. What did they do?"
Fielding hesitated, and swayed a bit on his feet. Chin found a rolling office chair that was still intact, and pulled it up behind him, gently pressing on his uninjured shoulder until he sat down.
"That was years before I came to the project," Fielding said. When Steve took a threatening step closer to him, he put his hands up defensively. "I swear. What do I possibly have to gain by withholding anything from you at this point? I know your DNA was somehow enhanced; controlled. Certain characteristics emphasized, other characteristics minimized. When, and how, exactly, I'm not sure. If there are records, I never had access to them."
All eyes turned to Joe; he nodded apologetically. "Same here. I didn't even suspect anything, remember, until Riley was with me in Korea, with Frank."
"Shelburne always worried, and half expected, that your personal attachment to the subject - sorry, to Riley - would cloud your objectivity. I was always under the impression that there was a great deal of information withheld from you, Commander White," Fielding said.
"Ah, no need for the title, remember? You disavowed me, and the Navy discharged me," Joe said, bitterness evident in his tone.
"So, now what?" Danny demanded. "This is the biggest mess . . . stupid CIA and SAD and all these godforsaken alphabet agencies . . . what I want to know is, how do we keep Riley safe, and what the hell do we do with these two?" He gestured wildly, causing Kono to smirk. "We're collecting disavowed and presumed dead CIA agents like Gracie collects Hello Kitty stickers. How do we, you know, turn it off? Turn the neural thingy off?"
"There was a chemical catalyst to activate it," Steve mused. "Surely there's something to deactivate it. She's a sitting duck, if she's actively transmitting and -" he stopped short, but everyone knew what went unsaid: not only was Riley actively transmitting, she was completely defenseless against further attempts at suggestion and control.
Fielding was uncomfortably silent.
"What is it, Agent Fielding?" Joe said, standing over him.
"Well, as you said, Commander White, the program was kept deliberately compartmentalized. The only mention I heard of deactivating the implant was in Termination Phase. And I'm not read in to the science."
"Son of a bitch," Steve shouted. "So, what, they just planned to - what, Fielding?!" he demanded.
"Commander McGarrett, I'm so sorry," Fielding said. "Genuinely sorry. I had no idea, when I was recruited for this project . . . I didn't know. If it's any consolation, there was obviously a termination phase for me, as well. If it hadn't been for you all, it would be complete by now."
Steve sighed and rubbed his hand over his face.
"If Shelburne finds out you're still alive . . . " he said, looking at Fielding.
"I won't be for long," Fielding finished. "I can handle myself, disappear . . . once I'm healed up."
Steve was pacing back and forth, processing, calculating . . . he stopped, and turned to Riley.
"Hideki Mokoto left you a house . . . it's fairly remote, defensible . . . would you consider -" he started.
"Yes," Riley said, before he even finished. "Fielding can stay there. And Joe, because Fielding can't defend himself right now."
Steve thought about it a moment, then nodded. He looked at Joe. "Well, Joe, what do you think? Would you be willing to offer protection to Fielding, until we get this sorted?"
Joe shrugged. "Same agency is gunning for both of us, may as well throw our lot in together. You and Riley could use with a secondary safe house as well. We'll need to set up surveillance, entry and exit points, intruder detection."
"Of course," Steve said.
Joe grinned. "I always did like Mokoto's place."
"They're both smiling," Danny sighed. "This does not bode well for us."
#*#*#*#*#
Chin, Kono, and Danny were dispatched back to Five-O with minimal protest, much to Steve's surprise.
"You're not arguing with me," he said, crossing his arms and looking down at Danny suspiciously. "Why aren't you arguing with me? You weren't terribly worried about plausible deniability when you drove out here to back us up. Which, thank you, by the way, but it makes me wonder why you're willing to go back to the poaching case now."
"Because, Steven, this is too much, okay? It's just all too much, and we're getting into completely unfamiliar territory here. I mean, DNA, and neural implants, and anything involving Joe White . . . I just need a moment. Or two. There's no . . . I have no frame of reference for this. You're taking it very calmly."
Steve shrugged. "Working Naval Intelligence, you hear . . . rumors. This isn't my first brush with Special Activities Division. I've worked with their people, provided security for some of their projects. There's been extractions where . . . well, I've seen things."
"It is a scary, scary place inside your head, Steven McGarrett," Danny said. "Don't you think Riley should come with us? Do you trust Fielding and Joe White?"
Steve hesitated, looking to ensure that they weren't within earshot of the others. "If what Fielding says is true, and whatever they used to try to get her to shoot Charlie is now integrated with her central nervous system . . . he is the closest thing we have right now to answers. Danny, if somehow Shelburne has even more control over Riley now . . ."
"She could be dangerous," Danny finished quietly. "Shit, Steve. I'm sorry. Okay, yeah, I see your plan. Just - don't start looking at her the way Fielding does, got it? Like she's some sophisticated piece of Navy-issued technology. For all her nifty nanobots and DNA enhancements, she's just a wide-eyed innocent with the same abandonment issues as you."
"I don't have abandonment issues," Steve replied automatically.
Danny's eyes crinkled in a warm smile. "And I don't have a Jersey accent, babe."
#*#*#*#*#
The drive to Mokoto's mountain home was quiet; the sky was overcast with low-hanging clouds. Riley sat silently next to Steve in the Silverado; Joe and Fielding behind them in Joe's nondescript Jeep.
"You okay?" Steve asked, as she fidgeted with the bandage on her arm.
She nodded. "It's a lot to process. I thought . . . I wonder, if I had just been faster, if I could have gotten that thing out of my arm sooner, maybe . . . " She fell silent again, and looked out the window as the wind continued to build, turning the leaves.
"Maybe what, sweetheart?" Steve prompted gently.
"Maybe you wouldn't have to try to protect your team from me," Riley said, turning her hazel eyes to him. "I'm so, so sorry, Steve. If I had just realized, if I had just moved faster. I'm sorry."
"Riley," Steve said earnestly, "none of this is your fault, do you understand me? None of it."
"What if I hurt someone? What if I hurt you?"
They pulled in front of the house just as the first fat raindrops began to splat on the windshield. Riley followed Steve's lead and climbed quickly out of the truck cab and ducked onto the wide, covered porch. He wrapped one hand around her shoulder, and the other hand cupped her face gently.
"Kid, I'm pretty sure I can take you," he said, grinning down at her. She was lanky and lean, just like him, but he still had quite a few inches on her. Just like a big brother should, he thought, although he didn't completely tower over her the way he did over Mary.
When she shoved him - hard - both hands against his chest, he realized that he had miscalculated the situation. And as he fell against the side of the house, hard enough to knock the wide out of him, he realized that he had underestimated her strength.
"Can you, though? Are you sure?" Riley demanded, her eyes blazing. "If I try to take out Danny, or Kono, are you going to be able to stop me? Will you have what it takes to put a bullet in me before I hurt someone? Because I'm counting on you, Steve. I'm counting on you to protect your people from me. I'm counting on you to protect me from myself."
"Riley," Steve said, holding his hands up and approaching her carefully, "we are going to figure this out; we're going to get answers. We're another step closer - a big step - with Agent Fielding helping us. And in the meantime, Riley, yes. Joe and I will stop you. We're going to protect the team, and we're going to protect you."
"The team. The team comes first, Steve, promise me. Promise me if it comes to it you'll take me out and protect your people," Riley insisted. Her normally low voice was pitching higher, tinged with hysteria.
Joe and Fielding had quietly joined them on the porch, standing back and watching with growing concern.
"Promise me," Riley demanded again. She was eyeing the holster at his belt.
Steve shook his head. "It's not going to come to that, Riley," he said. He was watching carefully as Fielding had stepped in closer to Riley, his hand reaching . . .
"Hey!" Steve barked, but Fielding had pressed his thumb against the base of her skull, and she crumpled, boneless, to the wooden floor of the porch.
Joe stepped between Steve and Fielding before blood was shed, and held up a hand. "Steve," he said calmly, "she was on the verge of panic, and you and I both know she was looking awfully hard at your SIG. Fielding diffused the situation quite well, I think, all things considered."
Steve knelt and checked Riley's pulse - strong and steady.
"There are multiple fail-safes built into the protocol. When she comes to," Fielding said, kindly, "you'll be able to assure her that we can, in fact, protect her from herself. It would seem that the possibility of hurting others is her greatest fear. If she realizes that we have ways to keep her from doing that, she's going to be much happier, don't you think, Commander?"
Steve curved his body protectively over Riley's prone form. He didn't look up as he spoke. "Will she come around on her own, or is there a protocol for that as well?"
"I can bring her around," Fielding said, "but she'll be more comfortable if we let it happen naturally. If I force it, she'll experience -" His sentence was cut off with a warning glance and shake of the head from Joe.
"Get out of my sight," Steve grit out. "Now. The both of you."
Joe put a hand on Fielding's shoulder and steered him inside the house. He settled the injured agent in the kitchen with a cup of tea, and then returned to a window where he could see Steve and Riley. He watched as Steve slid his arms under Riley's knees and shoulders and picked her up easily. He sat down in one of the simple, low teak chairs on the porch and cradled Riley against him, ensuring that her head was resting comfortably on his shoulder. Joe saw him murmuring against her hair, but from the angle, couldn't make out what he was saying. The slump of his shoulder, and the impatient swipes of the heel of his hand against his eyes spoke volumes, though, and Joe turned away from the window as a flood of remorse threatened to overwhelm him.
Joe went into the kitchen and fixed two more cups of tea, and then stepped quietly out onto the porch. He placed the cups carefully on the small, intricately carved table between the two chairs, and settled into the empty chair. Leaning forward, Joe looked out over the scenery that spread below them, as dark clouds continued to roll in. Lightning flashed in the distance, as the occasional low rumble of distant thunder accompanied the steady patter of rain around them. Joe stayed silent, content for the moment that Steve hadn't demanded to be left alone.
Finally, Steve took a sip of tea. "I would have had a couple years with her, before I went off to college. Even if I had gone to Annapolis, and not stayed on the island - I would have had a couple years with her. She would have been a toddler. She would have been saying my name; I would have come home for holidays, and picked her up and held her. She might have even cried when I had to leave. Mary would have had five or six years with her, you know? She would have been in kindergarten, or preschool maybe, when Mary graduated high school. I bet she would have made Mary crazy, getting into her stuff . . ."
Joe listened silently.
"She would have had a boyfriend by now, you know? Even if she was the classic McGarrett late bloomer; she would have had guys asking her out. I wouldn't have made it easy for them. There would have been, at the very least, video calls. I would have called them on a secure satellite video feed. From Afghanistan. In uniform."
Joe chuckled. Steve wouldn't have been the first older brother to hassle his baby sister's dates.
"And she would have complained to Mary, and Mary would have laughed and talked about how I did that with her boyfriends, too. Except I didn't get to, Joe, because our mother faked her death, and our father sent us away, and Mary . . . she was so, so angry and hurt. And I tried, Joe, I did; I tried to keep up with Mary but she didn't even want to talk to me, and I was as lost as she was. And all this time, Riley was . . . and I didn't know. I didn't even know."
"I know it doesn't count for much, Steve, but I'm sorry. I thought everything was being done to protect you, and Mary. By the time I realized, second-guessed . . . questioned my orders - it was almost too late," Joe said.
"I trusted you, Joe," Steve said quietly. "You were the only . . . after my mom died, and dad shipped me off to the mainland, you were the only family I knew."
"And I can still be that family, Steve, if I can earn back your trust," Joe replied. He took another sip of his tea. "If I can earn back your respect."
Steve was silent, looking out over the wind-swept trees in the valley below them. Riley began to shift a little in his arms, and he brushed the hair away from her face.
"She was an exceptional child," Joe said quietly. "She reminded me so much of you, even as a toddler. Strong-willed, perceptive. I saw her a few times a year, when I would go to debrief your mother."
"You were seeing them . . . my God, Joe, the whole time I was at Annapolis, going through BUDs, going on those early missions - you were seeing my mother. And my baby sister. And you came back and . . . I don't understand, Joe, how you could keep that from me. From my father," Steve said.
"Because I was reminded that if you knew, if any of you knew - you would be targets. I was convinced that it was the only way to keep you safe. To protect you," Joe said. "I'm not sure you realize . . . Steve, your mother isn't one of the CIA's highest ranking operatives for no reason. She's convincing." He paused. "Manipulative," he added, apologetically. "You didn't get that from her; you got your dad's honesty and straightforwardness. As did Riley."
"I guess Mary got the manipulative part," Steve chuckled. "That explains how I find myself consistently bailing her out of trouble."
"The McGarrett women are a beautiful bunch," Joe said. There was something in his tone that Steve started to question, but just at that moment, Riley stirred, then flinched violently.
"Charlie," she gasped, struggling in Steve's arms.
"Hey, hey, no, it's okay," Steve said, holding her tightly. "Riley, calm down. Wake up, it's okay. Charlie is okay."
Riley stilled and struggled to open her eyes.
"Hey, there you go," Steve said. "You with me?"
"Yeah. What happened?" Riley asked, confused.
"You got agitated; do you remember what about?" Steve asked, handing her his cup of tea.
She took a sip and nodded at Joe. It was familiar. "I was . . . worried that I would hurt someone."
"So Fielding pulled some sort of pressure point and you went down like a sack of potatoes," Steve said.
"The little shit," Riley mumbled.
"Language," Joe said, looking at her sternly.
"Riley, we'll get Fielding to explain more, but this means that there are ways to safely defuse any . . . situation that comes up," Steve said.
"Failsafes," Riley said, standing up and walking to the porch railing. She leaned her arms on it, looking out over the trees. The sky was continuing to darken and the thunder was getting closer. "It's beautiful," Riley said.
Joe looked around at the Japanese style house and the lush forest below. "Does it look like home?"
Riley turned and looked at him. "Home? Not sure where that is, Joe."
"Home's with me, Riley," Steve said, his voice quiet but strong. "Home is with me, and family is with Five-O."