"Joe . . . I - what are you saying, Joe?" Steve demanded.
"I'm saying when you find Riley, I expect you're going to want to eliminate this threat, once and for all. It's what I've trained you to do. And to do that, you're going to want to get your hands on absolutely every piece of evidence . . . every bit of information connected to her, to Shelburne." Joe shifted, trying to ease the ache taking hold of his body. "And when you do that, I think it's possible - possible - that you're going to come across something . . . I don't know, Steve. I just know that I've always wondered. Timelines match up and I've always wondered, and if there's any possibility - I just wanted you to hear it from me, first. Not from someone else."
"You and . . . and my mom?" Steve asked.
Danny couldn't help but smother a smile, even in his shock. Steve sounded for all the world like a kid who just discovered that storks did not, in fact, drop babies off at houses.
Joe started to say something, and then thought better of it.
"I need to find Riley," Steve said. "I can't -"
"Go, Steve," Joe urged. "Go find your sister. That's what matters now. We can sort out the rest later."
Danny found himself steering a shell-shocked Steve by the elbow.
They paused outside Joe's door.
"Danny, I can't . . . " Steve shook his head.
"Look," Danny said, turning to face Steve, his hands reaching up to gently squeeze his shoulders, "marriages, relationships . . . they're complicated things. You, and Riley, and Mary - you have each other, and you have us. No matter what. Right?"
Steve nodded, an expression of relief flooding his face as he looked into Danny's earnest blue eyes.
"Yeah, Danny," he said. "Okay, let's start trying to figure out a location, based on what Joe said."
"Steve!" Kono was running down the hall, oblivious to the disapproving glances from the medical personnel. "Jerry is awake; you have to - Steve, you have to come talk to him, right now."
"As if this day isn't strange enough," Danny muttered.
They followed Kono the few steps to Jerry's room. She became suddenly quiet at the door, and turned to them.
"He's really, really in a lot of pain, and loud noises and bright lights make it worse, okay?" she cautioned. "Don't yell at him," she added, pointing to Steve.
Steve had a passing thought that Kono was remarkably comfortable giving him orders, and then he was following Kono into Jerry's room.
"I'm sorry," Jerry blurted out, the minute Steve came through the door. "I'm really, really sorry."
"Jerry, you couldn't have done anything differently," Steve assured him. "We know, based on your injuries, that you did everything you could to protect Riley. That means a lot to me."
"She has a tracking device," Jerry said.
"We know, Jerry, Shelburne . . . they've been tracking her," Danny said, assuming that Jerry was confused.
"No, she has . . . okay, please don't be mad," Jerry said, looking at Steve.
"Jerry," Steve said slowly, "you're not making much sense. Try again."
"She had me tag her with a tracking device. It's in her ankle. Well, not in her ankle, not in the joint itself, of course, because that would be impractical and it would have involved surgical placement. It's subcutaneous," Jerry said. He tended to ramble when he was nervous, and the pain medicine wasn't helping. "If you'll get me a laptop, I can turn it on, and with any luck, you can track her. Please don't be mad. It was her idea."
"You can find her?" Steve said, stepping closer to Jerry's bed.
Jerry looked up at him nervously. "If she hasn't been taken off the island, and if the signal isn't blocked . . . I can't say for sure, but I can try."
Steve whirled around and almost bumped into Kono, who was hovering anxiously.
"Chin's already gone to get the laptop and a wireless tablet," she said. "How are you doing, Jerry? Holding up okay?"
Steve looked back at Jerry. His color was terrible . . . he was sickly pale, a light sheen of sweat covering his face.
"He had them turn off his pain meds until he could talk to you, and activate the device," Kono said. "Everything is wearing off. We need to hurry so they can start it back up again."
Steve looked down at Jerry, filled with respect and appreciation. "Well, hooyah, Jerry," he said. "Well done."
"You're not mad?" Jerry asked.
"Jerry, I'm not mad," Steve assured him. "I'm nothing but grateful for what you've done for Riley."
Chin came rushing into the room, arms full of equipment. Kono grabbed the laptop from him and handed it to Jerry, helping position it on the narrow hospital table, and carefully raising the head of the bed so that Jerry could reach the laptop.
"Sorry, sorry," Kono murmured, as Jerry bit back a cry of pain. "This good?"
"Yeah," Jerry said, breathless, "okay let's see . . . " His fingers began flying over the keyboard, while the rest of the team waited anxiously.
"It actually worked," Jerry said, in a whisper. "I can't believe it. It actually worked." He turned the laptop around and there it was . . .
There was a blinking green light.
"That's Riley?" Steve asked, his hand reaching out to gently touch the laptop. "You're sure?"
"Well, no, I can't be sure. That's the transmitter. They could have found the transmitter and cut it out of her," Jerry said.
Danny's hands gestured wildly at Jerry, out of Steve's line of sight.
"But that's very unlikely," Jerry amended quickly. "Very unlikely. It's so low-tech, I doubt they would even notice it. But I did just activate it, so now it's sending a signal . . ."
"We need to move," Steve said. "Now."
Chin grabbed the tablet and shoved it at Jerry, and there was a quick murmured conversation, then Chin was by Steve's side, the table clutched firmly in his hand. He pointed a finger at the green light.
"I've got her, Steve," he said. "Let's go get her back."
The team started to rush out the door, but Steve turned back and stepped back to Jerry's bed. He put a hand on Jerry's shoulder, carefully.
"Thank you," he said.
"She's the best friend I've ever had, Steve," Jerry said. "I know that sounds crazy."
"No, it doesn't," Steve said. "I'm sure you're the best friend she's ever had, too. Thank you, Jerry."
A nurse came in the door, quietly. "Can we get this patient back on his pain medication, Commander?" she asked, smiling at Steve.
"He's accomplished his mission, ma'am," Steve said. "By all means, give the man some well-earned relief. Jerry, you hang tight, we'll go get her, okay?"
Jerry managed a smile before he closed his eyes.
"Whatever this stuff is," he said, beaming at the nurse, "I like it. It's really trippy."
#*#*#*#*#
Hold on to whatever you can . . .
The young nurse with the kind eyes had whispered that to her, Riley was sure of it. Just before the chemically induced fog descended over her, like an unwelcome blanket, the nurse had whispered to her.
Hang on to whatever you can.
Riley pulled up image after image, a mental photo album. It was becoming more and more difficult as the benzos flooded her system, making everything hazy, and she felt memories slipping away.
Associate. Make an association. Olivia had taught her that, when she was a little girl, and they played memory games. Make an association, she ordered herself now. Hang on to whatever you can.
Warm blue eyes . . . sunshine. A flash of dimples . . . the smell of coconut. Dark eyes . . . and strength; strong arms, that had carried her somewhere. Curly hair . . . the quiet clicking of a keyboard, soothing, familiar. Safe.
You're stronger and smarter . . . trust me. Strong hands. Familiar voice.
There were no names now, to go with the images. No faces, just bits and pieces. Just the one voice, the one that kept saying she was strong, and smart. Riley held on, mentally repeating and rehearsing the flashes of images with the associated impression.
It didn't take long for her to realize that she was going to have to choose between pushing away the pain and holding on to the fleeting memories. She hesitated, the drugs taking effect, making her body feel heavy and disconnected, her muscles useless. It was becoming difficult to think, the drugs clouding her memory and her mind, but not taking the edge off the pain.
She chose; shifting what little control she had of her mind, she held on to the fragments of memory, and let the pain push back into her awareness. Riley smiled as the pain sharpened her focus and the images and associations became less hazy, more defined. She welcomed the pain, then, let it wash over her, and held on until finally, blissfully, the sedatives took full effect and took her under.
Garrison shook his head in disbelief, his eyes tracking over the tablet he held, as he stood in front of the observation window.
"What is it?" Shelburne asked.
"She chose memory. She chose memory over pain suppression. That was . . . unexpected," he said.
"More benzodiazepine?" Shelburne suggested.
"Only if you want her to stop breathing," Garrison said. "No, now all we can do it wait and hope that when she comes back up, the drugs have done the job and wiped her memory. Then we can . . . direct her ideas. Convince her of our version."
#*#*#*#*#
"I'll bring the car around," Danny said, as they stopped back by Steve's room, where Catherine was waiting for him.
"Kono and I will meet up with you all - back at the palace?" Chin suggested.
Steve hesitated a moment. His team was not going to like what he had planned, but he would wait until they were at the Five-O headquarter to explain it to them.
"Yeah, meet up with you there," he nodded, and Chin and Kono followed Danny, jogging to catch up as he held the elevator for them.
Steve closed the door to the hospital room and locked it.
"Wow," Catherine said, her warm eyes filling with concern. "Tell me."
Steve took a deep breath. "Joe thinks we should run his DNA against mine and Riley's. And Riley had convinced Jerry to tag her with a low-tech GPS tracker. We think we have a location. I'm going after her."
"Wait, Joe thinks - what is he saying, Steve?" Catherine asked, wrapping her small hand around Steve's arm. "That he's -"
"He doesn't know. Apparently there could be some question. I can't - Catherine, I can't think about that now. If I don't get Riley back, it will be a moot point. I have to set that aside," Steve said.
"Okay, I understand. Wow, all the stuff I've heard about compartmentalization . . . it's true, isn't it?"
"Yes," Steve said simply. "Otherwise . . . but Catherine, there's something I don't want to compartmentalize, not any more. When this is over, you and I . .. this thing between us; I haven't been fair to you, Catherine. I want -" He broke off, shaking his head ruefully. "I'm really bad at this."
Catherine laughed softly. "At ease, sailor. It'll keep. I'm not going anywhere."
She cupped his face in her hands, gently, mindful of the various cuts and the bruises that were still darkening. Stretching up on tiptoe, she kissed him, softly, but with unmistakable intent.
"Hooyah," Steve whispered, when they had to come apart for oxygen.
"Danny will think we've snuck out the back if we don't get down to the car," Catherine said, smiling.
Steve looked at her for a moment. "About that," he said, cupping his hand around her face and stroking her jaw lightly with his thumb. "I need you back at Pearl."
"Steve, I'm perfectly capable," she started to protest, stopping as a look came over her face, and realization dawned.
"You're going in alone," she said quietly; not a question. She knew. She knew the side of Steve that the Five-O team had never really seen; she'd been read in, several times, on classified missions when their paths had crossed when he was a SEAL and she was working Naval Intelligence.
"I need satellite intel," he said, "and for once, you already have authorization to give it to me. WoFat could be closing in on Shelburne as fast as we are."
"Okay, Steve, I'll go," Catherine agreed. "Be careful?" That was a question, because that could not be assumed.
He nodded, and bent to kiss her again, soft and sweet and perfect, and she couldn't help it, her eyes filled with tears.
"Hey," he whispered. "I'll be careful, okay? I haven't even introduced Riley to Mary yet, and I want to make good on all of those dinners I owe you. Catherine, I -"
She stopped him with a finger over his lips. "No way. You don't get to say it before a mission, as if you might not have a chance to say it later. And you don't get to say it in a hospital room. After. You get to say it after."
He nodded and smiled at her, holding her hand as they left the room and made their way out of the hospital.
Steve slid gingerly into the Camaro next to Danny, for once, not arguing to drive.
"Catherine coming?" Danny asked, glancing at her as she headed in the opposite direction.
"Catherine is going to provide satellite intel for us," Steve explained.
"Okay, so to the palace?" Danny confirmed, putting the car in drive.
Steve glanced at Danny. "Where's the stuff from my truck? Still at the scene?"
Danny snorted. "No, Steven, the CSI unit had to carefully load, label, and transport all of that stuff back to headquarters. It's locked up in your office. I can't believe you get away with carrying that much live ammunition and . . . I didn't even know what half that stuff was."
"Immunity and means, Danny," Steve grinned. "Back to the palace."
#*#*#*#*#
Doris slipped into Riley's room, quietly.
"Are her vitals stable?" she asked the young nurse.
"Yes, ma'am," the nurse replied, refusing to meet Doris' eyes. Coolly polite, bordering on sarcastic. She made a notation on a clipboard hanging next to the array of IV infusion pumps.
"Then I want you to administer another dose," Doris said.
The nurse looked up at her, dismay evident in her expression.
"Shall I call in another technician?" Doris asked, crossing her arms and staring down the nurse, daring her to argue or question.
"No, ma'am," the nurse said, reluctantly retrieving the syringe and expertly adding it to one of the IVs. "Ma'am, you do realize that this has just a sedative effect; there's no analgesic in this. No pain relief. Her injuries are severe . . . "
"I'm well acquainted with the protocol," Doris said sharply. "How long before this dose starts to wear off?"
"It should last for about two hours, and then she should start to come back around," the nurse said. "I strongly recommend adding a bag of Ringer's; she's becoming dehydrated."
Doris nodded dismissively and stood in silence while the nurse added a bag of fluids to the crowded collection of IV bags pumping into Riley's veins.
"Is that everything, ma'am?" the nurse said, looking at Doris. Defiant.
"Yes; you're free to go," Doris said.
When the nurse slipped out the door, Doris remained standing next to Riley's bed, her back toward the window, her face turned away and her body blocking the angle of the security camera in the room. She slid her hand over Riley's, her thumb rubbing lightly over the skin, reddened and slightly swollen at the edge of the restraint.
"Riley," she whispered, "please, please don't fight it. Please, darling. Please, just go with it; let this work." Her other hand clenched tightly around the file folder, the one with the latest set of orders.
Garrison stood, watching impassively at the observation window, glancing down at a duplicate set of orders: Project Shelburne had until midnight to be established as viable, or the project - and the subject - would be terminated with extreme prejudice.
Doris stroked Riley's hand once more, then schooled her features and turned around, walking out of the room and closing the door quietly behind her. She nodded at Garrison.
"She's completely under. Go ahead with the final set of data," she instructed. "When she regains consciousness, she should be completely convinced that she's been rescued, and fully cooperative."
"You understand our orders," Garrison said.
"I understand that this project is going to be a complete success," Doris said. "Our orders are to establish the project as viable, and that's what I intend to do. If you do your job properly, that shouldn't be a problem."
Garrison nodded and walked away, heading toward the computer lab where he would upload the final program, the one he'd created to obliterate Riley's memories of McGarrett and the rest once and for all, and replace them with associations of fear and pain so traumatic . . . she would be so grateful for having been rescued that she would be willing to do whatever was asked of her.
Doris put her hand on the observation window.
"Please, Riley," she whispered.
The nurse came around the corner of the hallway, her thick-soled shoes silent on the floor, and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight: Shelburne, the agent that she had come to fear and loathe, was wiping tears from her cheeks. The nurse made a hasty and silent retreat, leaning against the wall out of sight, and daring to hope against hope that somehow, her patient was going to make it out of this alive.