CHAPTER 10

Wednesday morning, McGarrett residence:

"Still fighting?"

He ignored the voice, willing it away until it became an annoying background noise.

"The pain…I can make it all go away."

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the slimy voice. He knew it was just his imagination. It wasn't real!

"I know everything. I know you gave up."

He covered his ears with his hands, pressing harder until he could hear nothing but the sound of his own ragged breathing.

He felt a stab of pain in his arm, followed by an unexplainable cold flowing though his veins.

Trepidation. Dread. Fear.

Sheer, unadulterated panic overwhelmed him.

No!

Not again!

No more!

He couldn't breathe! His chest wouldn't expand, wouldn't let him breathe.

He jerked upright, his chest heaving as he drew in oxygen. He looked down at his arms, surprised to find nothing there. He forced himself to take deep, steadying breaths until his heart settled into a regular rhythm.

Steve felt cold despite the sweltering heat in the stuffy room. He rolled over and stood on on shaky legs. He shuffled over to the window and opened it, gratefully inhaling the fresh ocean air. He felt the wind blow over his sweat-slicked skin, inducing a long shudder.

Steve gulped as he felt the bile rise in his throat. He forced it down, knowing he didn't have the energy to get to the bathroom if needed. He spent the next few minutes forcing his body to relax.

Nightmares were nothing new to Steve. He'd had them before and at varying levels of intensity. This was one of the more mild variety but still had him terrified nonetheless. He wished they would stop, that he could close his eyes without reliving the past.

He tore his gaze away from the window when he heard his phone ringing on the bedside table. He stumbled over to the other side of the bed and grabbed the phone. He squinted as the bright light pierced his eyes. Through watering eyes, he could just make out the caller ID. With a sigh, he declined the call and threw the device onto the bed.

He'd been ignoring Tillman's calls for days now. Instinctively, he knew he should just answer him and get it over with. Except he was ready…far from it.

He was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to move. He quickly dressed in his usual running attire, tugged on his shoes and raced down the stairs two at a time. Once out the front door, he started running. Every step taking him further away from the stuffy confines of his house, his personal jail.

Logically, he knew he couldn't outrun his demons. He could, however, focus on the steady pace and controlled breathing until he was stable again. Until he could face his demons head-on. He willed himself to go faster and faster.

He hated this.

Hated that his life had become this…this inescapable barricade of self doubt, failure and pain. He did not ask for this. He did his job, that's all.

He suddenly found himself wishing he had never returned to Hawaii after his father's death. Wishing he hadn't gotten so close to the people here, the people that were constantly in danger because of him. His family and friends. Sweet, innocent people.

So what did that make him?

Not innocent? He was far from innocent. He'd killed people; bad people and good people.

A monster? Maybe. Maybe that's all he ever was. A monster masquerading as a hero. Just pretending. Going through the motions but not really feeling.

The toe of his shoe suddenly caught on a raised lump in the concrete path and he focused all of his attention on not face planting right there. After awkwardly jump-hopping for a few metres, he finally stopped. He sat down on a wall and gripped his hair with his hands, panting hard.

His muscles shook with exhaustion as sweat dripped from his brow. He forced himself to take deep breaths until his heart started beating at a normal rhythm. He knew he'd pushed himself too far when he stood on trembling legs.

He desperately wanted to scream. He couldn't outrun his body's fallibility as much as he couldn't escape his torturous mind. He knew it was just his inner concerns manifesting themselves and feeding on his self doubt, but he wondered if he would ever be the person he once was.

The flawless sailor whose unerring precision and accuracy got the job done.

Except he had never been that man. Qari Nazeef had proved that. He'd always been broken, incompetent. He'd just never realised it until now.

Steve turned and walked slowly towards home. Several cars passed him by, but he paid them no attention. He nearly tripped again and looked around, hoping no one saw his stumble. He was relieved to see the tail end of a silver van disappearing around the corner and no other people on the path.

No one to witness his weakness.

Arriving at his house ten minutes later, he checked the mail box before making his way down the path to the front door. He spotted something bright red sitting on the door mat and stopped short. His right hand immediately went to his hip where he normally holstered his gun, only to discover its absence.

His eyes searched the immediate area for signs of movement. Nothing.

He slowly approached the object that caught his attention. Half a dozen crimson roses were neatly bundled together, a white card contrasting against the viridescent stems. They looked identical to the ones that had been delivered to the office the previous day.

Steve felt the hairs on his arms stand up as a shiver ran down his spine. He turned around, trying to spot the person that had left them on his front doorstep. Again, he found no one.

Returning his attention back to the flowers, he kneeled down to inspect them. There were no identifying marks to suggest they came from a local florist. He plucked the card from where it had been tucked underneath one of the stems and read it.

A token of affection, from me to you. I hope these make you smile.

Steve grimaced at the words on the card. Sending flowers to the office was one thing, but this was his house. The words made him feel uncomfortable. If anything, it had to be a practical joke. Maybe Danny had decided to mess with him; Steve wouldn't put it passed his partner to pull something like this. Instinctively, however, he knew this had nothing to do with Danny.

Gathering up the flowers he went inside, closing the door behind him with a loud click. He shoved the roses into the bin before going upstairs to shower and change before Danny arrived to pick him up.

By the time Steve was ready to go, Danny was already walking up to the front door.

"Morning," Danny greeted him as the door opened before he had a chance to knock.

"Morning," Steve replied.

"Ready to go?" Danny asked.

Steve looked around the living room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything before nodding. "Yeah. Let's go."

Danny turned to follow Steve out the door when something obviously caught his eye. "Hey. Did you get another delivery?"

"What?" Steve asked, already halfway out the door.

"The flowers? Are they new?" Danny asked, pointing at the rose heads sticking out of the bin.

"Oh, yeah," Steve said distractedly. "They were on the mat when I got back from my run this morning."

"Did they come with a note?" Danny asked.

Steve rolled his eyes and dug into the bin to pull out the card. Danny's eyes skimmed over the message.

"This is getting a bit…weird," Danny said. "We should get the card analysed, see if there's any prints."

"I don't think we need to go that far. I'm sure it's just someone's idea of a joke." Steve tried to sound like it didn't bother him.

"If that's true, then it's one heck of a prank. Sending flowers to the office is, well, creepy. But sending them to your house? I don't like it."

Steve waved off Danny's concern. "It's fine, Danny. It's just flowers."

"You say that now, but the next thing you know you'll have a bomb delivered to your front door."

Steve knew Danny was a catastrophist but he made a good point. Who knew where these flowers were coming from and the intention behind it.

"Danny, I get you are concerned but can we just leave it? We have work to do."

"Fine. Just…be careful," Danny pleaded.

"I always am," he said before closing the door behind them and leading the way to the Camaro.

Nevertheless, Danny stuffed the card into his pocket.

Wednesday morning, temporary Five-0 offices:

Steve and Danny arrived at HPD's parking lot after an awkwardly silent drive. As they climbed out of the car, Danny's phone rang.

"Go ahead, I'll catch up," Danny instructed Steve, waving his phone.

Danny watched Steve walk inside before answering the phone. "Detective Williams."

"Danny, it's Rod," the person on the other end answered.

"Rod! Man, long time, no hear. How have you been?"

"I've been about as good as can be expected."

"Last time I saw you was the surprise party at Steve's place. You promised to tell me how you owed Steve so many favours," Danny said, smiling at the memory.

"I never promised anything of the sort. I said it was a story for another time."

Danny chuckled before getting back to the point. "I'm assuming you are not calling just to say hello."

"No," Tillman's voice turned serious. "No, I'm not."

Danny did not like the tone of the older man's voice. "What can I do for you?"

"How's Steve?"

Danny frowned. "He's…fine. Why?"

"I've been calling him and he's been avoiding my calls."

Oh.

"Um, maybe he's just…"

"Danny, I don't need you making excuses for him. I'm just checking he hasn't gotten into trouble or anything."

Danny breathed a sighed of relief. "I guess it depends on what you define as trouble…but really, he's okay. Back at work…light duties only though, which is pissing him off."

"So back to normal then?" Tillman said with a laugh.

"Pretty much."

"Look, the reason I'm calling is…well…the Navy needs his statement for the inquiry."

"Oh," Danny muttered.

Uncovering a whole network of terrorists, some of which were hiding in plain sight amongst them, was not just going to be swept under the carpet. The death of the man responsible, a man previously confirmed to be dead, would only bring about more questions. Questions that couldn't be answered without comprising the safety of the one person Steve had worked so hard to protect.

"Yeah," Tillman answered solemnly.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that's why he's been ignoring your calls?"

"Probably," Tillman confirmed. "But that's not all."

"Go on."

"They want to pin a medal on his chest. The Navy Cross."

Danny hissed. "Oh, he's not going to like that."

Tillman's laughter was devoid of humour. "No, he's not."

The Navy Cross was the second highest military award for heroism in combat. The fact that Steve would be adding another medal to his already impressive collection was astonishing. However, both men knew that Steve would not see it that way.

"So, what do you need me to do?"

"Tell him what's going on. That way he won't freak out when some Navy people come to talk to him," Tillman requested.

"Any idea when this is supposed to happen?" Danny asked.

"All I know is it's supposed to happen soon. The Navy wants to rid their hands of this debacle and they think giving Steve a medal will make it all go away."

"They don't know him then," Danny replied bitterly.

"It's the Navy, Danny. They won't take no for an answer," Tillman said.

Danny ran a hand through his hair in frustration. That's not what he wanted to hear. "Fine, I'll tell him. But just for the record, I hate this."

Tillman sighed. "Me too."

"Why can't they just leave him alone? He did everything right the first time. He shouldn't have to relive it so they can clear their conscience. It's their fault they didn't know about Walker and Gibbon and the hundreds of others. If they'd done their job then we wouldn't have a dead officer…"

Danny trailed off when he saw two HPD officers walk passed, one of whom was Lieutenant Clarke who gave him a look that promised death.

"Look, I've got to go," Danny told Tillman.

"Okay. And Danny…thanks."

"Yeah," Danny said half-heartedly as he hung up. "This day just keeps getting better and better," he added to himself.

Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Danny walked over to the entrance to HPD and picked his way through the busy bullpen until he reached the door to Five-0's temporary home. As he entered, he saw Chin, Kono and Steve standing around Chin's desk.

"Morning everyone," Danny announced his presence.

"Hey Danny," Kono said, glancing up at him from the tablet she was working on.

"What have we got?" Danny asked.

"Steve shared the money laundering theory with us. It looks like he might be on to something there," Chin answered.

"For an electronics store, it sure was a successful one," Kono said, her eyes on the tablet in her hand. "You were right, Steve. The store started making significantly more money after Kevin Braithwaite took over from the previous owner. As in two thousand dollars a week more."

"That's a lot of cell phone sales," Danny commented.

"Either Braithwaite was a really successful businessman or he was making money in other, less-than-legal ways," Steve summarised.

"So the Triads were running their dirty money through the shop and paying Braithwaite for what? His services? For keeping his mouth shut?" Chin queried.

"Maybe they found out that Braithwaite was getting cold feet, getting ready to renege on their deal and they torched the shop?" Danny suggested.

"You know what this means?" Steve asked.

Danny hung his head and groaned loudly. "Don't say it."

Steve grinned. "We need to talk to the Triads."

"I hate you."

Chin and Kono exchanged amused grins, much to Danny's despair. Today really sucked.

Wednesday afternoon, temporary Five-0 offices:

Danny walked over to Steve's desk and sat on the corner of it, his arms crossed over his chest. He radiated nervous energy.

"Steve? Can I talk to you?" Danny asked.

Steve looked up from the form he was filling out and met Danny's eyes. He looked nervous. "If this is about the flowers—"

"No, it's not."

Steve stopped what he was doing and gave Danny his full attention. "Then what?"

"It's…it's just," Danny took a breath. "There's something I need to tell you and I'm not sure how you'll react, because I'm pretty certain you will hate the idea and to be fair, I hate it too. But it's not something I can control and…"

Steve was instantly on alert. His partner was known for his ranting, sure, but he rarely rambled. "Whoa, Danny. Slow down. I don't understand what you are trying to say. You're rambling."

"Right. Sorry."

Steve stared at Danny. Something had his best friend riled up. Steve suspected it had something to do with the phone call from earlier. He opened his mouth to ask exactly that but was interrupted by Chin.

"Hey, we're heading out. You coming Danny?"

Danny started. "Uh, yeah. Let me just get my vest."

Steve watched Danny walk away before flicking his eyes to Chin and Kono. They were both in tactical gear, their weapons holstered and ready to go. Even though they were only going to talk to the Triads, Steve had insisted they at least have protection. He loathed that he wouldn't be going with them, but he had orders from the Governor (and he suspected from his doctor too) to remain in the office while his team handled it.

He had never been good with downtime, especially when he knew there was work to be done. His skin was crawling with the need to move, to be in the thick of it but more importantly, the need to have his team's backs.

"We'll be back soon, Steve. Hopefully with some answers," Chin said, obviously picking up on his mood.

"Yeah. I'll just be…here, I guess," Steve replied petulantly. He hated that he was that easy to read.

"Steve, you know we would have you with us if we could, right?" Chin reminded him.

"Yeah. I know. Just…be careful," Steve urged.

"You're starting to sound like Danny," Kono replied with a dimpled smile.

"Is that a good or bad thing?" Steve asked with a strained smile of his own.

Kono shrugged. "I guess that depends on your perspective."

Before Steve could ask exactly what her perspective was, Danny returned having donned his vest.

"Okay, let's go," he said without looking at Steve.

Steve watched as the trio left, once again bemoaning that he wasn't going with them. Steve leaned back in his chair and glared at the ceiling. He knew he was lucky to be alive, let alone even behind a desk, but he couldn't help loathing his body's ineptitude.

After his team had rescued him from the hell-hole that Nazeef had created, he'd realised that the ordeal had left scars and not all of them were physical. Faced with an arduous recovery that could take several more months, Steve was not particularly excited by the prospect of being confined to his desk.

His pity party didn't last long as a blonde haired woman walked in about twenty minutes later. Wearing a light blue business shirt and black slacks, she stood in front of his desk and smiled.

Steve frowned and sat upright in his chair. "Can I help you?"

"Rebecca Marsden, from the Honolulu Times," she introduced herself.

There was a moment of fleeting recognition as Steve's brain slowly worked to remember where he knew her from. It took him longer than he would have liked to realise she was the reporter that had been seeking information on the skinning case and had given the description of an HPD officer acting suspiciously after they had spoken to Malory Winters. Unfortunately, the information hadn't come soon enough as Winters had ended up dead…and so had Officer Carl Rogerson.

"Ms Marsden. What can I do for you?" he asked warily. Reporters had a way of talking their way into getting the information they needed for a good story.

"I was hoping I could interview you. Last time we talked, I suggested maybe doing a piece on how the taskforce works," she answered with a hopeful expression.

Steve rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb. "Yeah, I remember."

"So?"

He tried to think of an excuse to avoid doing an interview. "It will need to be approved by the Governor's office."

"I'm sure you could arrange that?" Marsden asked, batting her eyelashes.

Steve surveyed the reporter. She was persistent, he'd give her that. But there was something about her, something that made his spine tingle with unease.

"No. We are in the middle of a case," Steve replied sternly. The excuse sounded pathetic even to him, but he really wanted her to leave him alone so he could get back to work.

Rebecca Marsden looked pointedly around at the empty office and glanced back at Steve dubiously. "I see. Do you at least have a few minutes in your busy schedule to give me a quick statement about the hostage situation at Ohana Greenhouse and Garden Supply?"

Steve frowned, confused by the sudden change in topic. "That was over two weeks ago. I think it's been covered enough."

"Well, I was out of town and only returned a few days ago. I want to hear your version of what happened," she explained with an alluring smile.

Steve felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and breathed a sigh of relief at the distraction.

"Excuse me," Steve said to the reporter before answering the phone. "McGarrett…WHAT?!" He stood up abruptly as a feeling of dread filled him. "I'm on my way."

She watched him go with a sense of annoyance mixed with admiration.

She made to follow him out the door but paused when she saw a flash of red in the trash can positioned in the far corner of the room. She approached the bin out of curiosity and saw a dozen beautiful roses stuffed into the garbage.

The dozen roses that she had spent hours ensuring were perfectly trimmed and arranged, the best of the crop. Thrown away like trash. She scowled, turned on her heel and stalked out of the precinct as her anger threatened to boil over.

Obviously her approach wasn't working. She didn't have much more time to do this. She needed to make her move soon. Time was running out. Once it did, however, she would have everything she could ever want.

Any day now.

The waiting would soon be over.