Wake Up

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There were certainly many breathtaking, beautiful things that made Hawaii special. It would be quite a lengthy list as it would be difficult to choose just one since there were so many – the spectacular sunsets, sandy beaches, delicious cuisine, lovely people, amazing sights – it really was a gem. Even though everything about Hawaii was like no other place, there was one thing Steve could single out – the warm breeze on his skin after a long swim.

Digging his feet into the sand, Steve was sat on the sandy beach, viewing the marvelous sunset, letting his wet body dry from the swim. Even though there were still people on the beach - mostly picking up their stuff or trying to convince their children to leave the ocean and go back to the hotel - it was rather peaceful. Hearing other people's voices soothed him as he didn't necessarily want to be part of a conversation but lately silence became a bit too loud to handle. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the last sun rays of the day, before the sun hid behind the horizon, and he took a deep breath. Yes – feeling the air and breathing the air counted as one of Steve's favorite things about the island. It was like no place else.

A whole week had passed. In that week, Steve learned a lot about himself and his refrigerator. It never occurred to him that raw meat couldn't survive a whole week in the fridge without going bad, although, he had always kept everything in such order that there was never any potential of that happening. Everything in his life was organized, in perfect order, nothing in his fridge had ever spoiled – unless he wasn't home for a while. Hence it came as quite a shock to him, that half of the things weren't edible anymore. At least he made himself reorganize the fridge, heavy heartedly throwing most of the things in the trash, and putting the rest on the counter until the fridge was squeaky clean. It was a hard week – he thought – and promised never to let that happen again. If no one knew about it, he could pretend it never happened.

Danny kept nagging he should take some time off, stay at home and rejuvenate.

Just stop talking.

He believed Steve should seek some sort of professional help and really dedicate some time to himself and his thoughts and he made sure to remind Steve of it every day.

Well, I just believe you should stop talking. Is there someone I could pay for that? I'd rather pay someone to help you shut up, Danny.

Saying things like that helped Danny believe he truly was getting better. The absence of his spirit and attention, however, conflicted with his optimism.

Steve let out a deep sigh. He was fine. He was. Danny was just overreacting, he was always like that – just a very protective, caring friend who worried too much. Steve almost smiled to himself but the sudden coldness he felt on his skin interrupted him. The sun had set and the people had gone from the beach. Steve stood up, shaking the sand off his feet, and started walking toward where he had parked his car. The flip flops on his feet were making a lot of noise which he didn't mind but made him notice the sudden silence. It was like someone hit a switch – from warm and loud to cold and silent. It made him feel uneasy but he approached his car, taking another deep breath. He started digging through his pockets in search of the keys when suddenly, he heard a loud noise. He winced, immediately turning his head towards the ocean. He couldn't make out where it was coming from, but he was sure it was a cry for help. Instinctively he dropped both the towel and the keys on the ground and searched for the source of the noise. His eyes wandered, trying to make out anything in the dark but he couldn't see a thing. Then he heard the noise again, only this time more clearly – it was a loud cry followed by a gunshot. Steve's heart skipped a beat and he maniacally opened his car, in search for his gun and phone but he couldn't find them. He kept looking as the cries became louder and finally noticed his phone, lying underneath the driver's seat. Grabbing it, he immediately turned the brightness on and noticed the inside of his car was soaking wet. It was surprising, considering he had been sitting in the sun long enough to have completely dried. As he raised his head, he saw a silhouette on the other side of the vacant parking, holding a gun with his hand covered in blood. As he was approaching Steve, he kept whispering slowly.

You have one call.

The eerie voice kept telling him as Steve was holding his phone, suddenly realizing it was wet from blood, and trying to dial a number but failing.

"I can't! I can't!" he shouted, trying repeatedly. It seemed as though the blood was coming from the phone itself, and Steve kept pressing and pressing until a picture appeared. It was a picture of Grace, back when she was a little kid, hugging Danny, seemingly bloody on the surface of the screen.

Start.

The phone hit the floor and a loud gunshot ripped through his ears.

Steve winced, sitting wide awake in his bed, drenched in cold sweat. His heart was pounding and he couldn't breathe.

It was just a dream.

The fact that it was just a dream calmed him down a bit, although it should have been a red alarm. Steve shook his head, feeling a jolt of pain and landed his feet on the floor. He concluded how he needed to take a pill for his headache before work and one more important thing:

Don't mention this to Danny.

Because, of course, Danny would only overreact.

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"Can I come in?" Chin peeked behind the glass door, raising his brows and smiling at Danny.

"Yeah, Chin, come in," replied Danny, pulling away from his desk, putting down the pen he was just using.

"I'm worried about Steve," Chin glanced at the clock, showing Steve was already twenty minutes late. Danny nodded his head.

"Uh, I know," he sighed. "He did call me though, said he'd be a bit late today. He said he had some things to take care of. I have no idea what he could possibly be needing to take care of now except for himself but what do I know anyway, he's a big boy, he can take care of himself," Danny said, sounding slightly annoyed, gesticulating with his hands.

"Wow," uttered Chin, surprised Danny would say that, knowing well enough Danny was worried sick about Steve. "You really think that?"

Danny didn't reply. He just sat in his comfortable chair, counting every second Steve wasn't there.

"What I think is – we need to get back to the case, it's been four days since we spoke to the governor and I really don't want her to call us again unless we have some good news for her."

"Right," agreed Chin and stood up, turning away from Danny.

About half an hour later; Chin, Danny, Kono and Lou were standing around the touch-screen computer table, looking at the pictures that would appear after Kono swiped the screen. There weren't any successes in the last few days – all their suspects were already dead and they had no new leads. The team had already investigated their homes, talked to their families, dug through their files. At the first glance, they had a few things in common – all men had some sort of combat training, whether from the military, the navy or otherwise. They also had families and no police records, except for one man who was pulled over for speeding. They didn't seem like they belonged to any kind of illegal organization, especially not one that would hold children hostage and shoot mercilessly.

Steve walked in, holding a paper bag in his hand and rushed to his office, joining the rest of the team shortly after with nothing in his hands. Danny didn't miss that detail.

"You okay, Steve?" asked Kono and looked at Steve.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied and crossed his arms on his chest. Lou glanced at the scars on his hands and quickly looked away while Steve stared at the big screen in front of them. He was silent, waiting for Kono to bring him up to speed.

"So, as I was saying, these guys don't seem like the type who would run around with rifles, holding random hostages or threatening children or Five-0," she began, swiping the screen until multiple pictures of different men appeared on the screen. She selected only one, enlarging it. It was a dossier from one of the offenders. Kono then selected a few more of the exact same dossiers and aligned them on the screen.

"They all have families, good jobs, no criminal record and also had no connection to each other prior to the incident," she then selected a bunch of pictures, each showing a different family. "The only connection was this."

Dozens of e-mails appeared on the screen.

"All of these men received threats that their children were in danger. After they responded, they started getting e-mails with instructions what to do. Their first tasks were ridiculous, like work out at the gym for an hour and send proof," explained Kono. "Later they started to get more morbid requests, like shoot a pigeon, all while receiving pictures of their children at random places."

"Clearly some psychopath started stalking their children and threatened to hurt them unless they did what he wanted?" asked Chin.

"Yes, but the police couldn't find the guy. It was impossible to track him down."

"Okay so we have a group of armed men, ready to do anything to protect their children, obviously forced to do so because some freak manipulated them," said Lou. "But that doesn't explain why they started shooting at the hostages. They were just kids."

Just kids.

Kids.

Steve's head hurt.

I should take another pill.

The team kept talking about the case while Steve distantly kept thinking about his headache. He couldn't exactly remember how many pills he had taken that morning. All he remembered was an empty pill box.

One? Two? Three?

He couldn't remember.

Was it for the headache? Or the shoulder pain? Or because of lack of sleep?

The only thing he could remember was not to mention this to Danny.

Don't let Danny see the paper bag.