Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Idly he scrunched up his toes in the wet sand at the water's edge and let himself be mesmerized by the little waves coming in and washing over his feet. He marvelled at the way the waves gave off the gentlest of shushing noises as they advanced up the beach.
He had been standing there just looking at the water pooling around his toes for some time now, staring at nothing in particular. Feeling light-headed he made to turn back towards his lanai, but stumbled over his own feet and found himself sprawled face down in the shallow water. Cursing at his own clumsiness, he tried to kneel but it took far more energy than usual to get back to his feet. As he turned towards his house the full brightness of the sun hit him; moaning in pain he quickly shut his eyes to block out the light. His head was pounding as he set off back towards his lanai, but he never made it to his destination – after a few steps his limbs began to jerk erratically and he was unable to control his movements before his body went rigid and he dropped to the sand. The seizure stopped after a minute or two, but he was no longer aware of anyone or anything and lay where he fell.
His return to consciousness was slow and confused, as he gradually became aware of pain in what felt like every muscle of his body. At least the sun had moved around in the sky and was no longer in his eyes. Groaning, he tried to roll over onto his front but felt like he was moving in quick sand and his limbs just wouldn't cooperate. His headache was back with a vengeance and he was struggling to focus his eyes. Steve could be described as many things, but being a quitter was certainly not one of them and so he gritted his teeth and forced himself to roll over. A wave of nausea came over him and he automatically resorted to combat breathing to ride through it; the controlled long breaths in and out helped him to focus and regain a level of control over his body. Slowly he came onto his knees and then was able to stand and shuffle back onto the lanai. Lowering himself carefully into a chair, he continued to control his breathing until he felt able to fully open his eyes and take stock of his surroundings.
"What the hell happened?" he thought to himself as he subconsciously took a quick inventory of his body, a familiar process that he had been forced to do far too many times, "no visible injuries, no new holes, no blood, all four limbs present and correct." Running his hands over his head and face, he looked to see any evidence of blood but his hands came away clean. It took him some time to think to locate his phone, but it was not in view. "Come on Steve, pull yourself together," he mentally chided himself as a voice that sounded suspiciously like his vocal partner chimed in with "You complete Neanderthal animal, you can't even evade trouble literally in your own back yard!"
Speaking aloud this time, he answered with, "Jesus, Danno. That must've been one helluva party . . ." trailing off as he chastised himself for holding an imagery conversation. It was bad enough having to deal with the opinionated detective in real life without starting to talk to him when he wasn't even there.
He shifted in discomfort in his seat as he became aware of the unpleasant cold feeling from his wet pants, no doubt a result of his little tumble down at the shoreline. It took a minute but with a sniff he worked out that it wasn't just the seawater that had made them wet. "What the hell?" He sucked in a sharp breath and flushed in embarrassment as he came to the awful realization that he had soiled himself.
With a disgusted grunt, he pushed off the arms of the chair to stand and gingerly walked into his house through the glass doors that he failed to even notice had been left wide open. The breeze was causing the sheers to flutter and the graceful movement of the fabric took his attention for a few seconds before he shrugged off his temporary lack of focus and continued into his house. Sweeping his gaze over the dining room, he made a cursory pass of the living room before ending up in his kitchen. Sighing in relief, he located his phone on the counter where it had been left on charge.
His head still felt foggy but he forced himself to assess his situation and the realization hit him like a freight train, his breathing speeding up in panic as he recognized his symptoms. It had been a number of years ago on a FUBAR mission to some god-forsaken hellhole, but he remembers with sickening clarity feeling exactly like he does now. "Shit," he softly cursed as he painstakingly scrolled through his contacts until he got to his old CO, Captain Edward 'Eddie' Brown. He waited for the call to connect and steeled himself for the conversation ahead.
Taking a calming breath, he exhaled and then responded to the clipped greeting, "Sir, Steve McGarrett here," he waited for the customary polite enquiry about his health and was uncharacteristically tentative in his response, "um, actually no, Sir. I'm not alright. Requesting permission to meet ASAP. Can I meet you at the Branch Medical Clinic in Makalapa – I um, I think I need to be tested for Rohypnol ingestion . . . I could've been compromised," he took more calming breaths while listening to Captain Brown's instructions, ". . . understood, Sir . . . yes Roger that. Thank you, Sir."
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Captain Brown lowered his phone back onto the cradle and could not hide his worry after the brief exchange, so much so that Senior Chief Petty Officer Iosua walked over from his desk to check on him. Perching on the edge of the captain's desk he asked, "Trouble?"
"To be honest I couldn't really say yet, but I am very worried about the ramifications." Iosua raised his eyebrows, unable to contain his surprise. Edward Brown was the very definition of unflappable, known as 'Steady Eddie' amongst base personnel - although certainly not to his face. He was overdue to retire and would take with him a wealth of operational experience; he would have already hung up his cap but had been 'persuaded' to transfer to Pearl Harbor to help with the complex process of merging with Hickham Air Force Base to form Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickham (JBPHH). His calm demeanour and ability to cut through bureaucracy had proved invaluable, with the new joint facility in full swing now. If he was honest, Eddie had accepted the transfer offer quickly enough instead of retiring; the chance for a steady desk job on the island he now called home was not exactly a hard sell. His wife Eleanor, a kindly but formidable woman, had been delighted as she didn't think that the world of retirement was quite ready for her husband and so it was a win-win in Eddie's book.
Handing over a piece of paper to Iosua, he gave the order to get an enlisted sailor over to 2727 Piikoi Street with instructions to pick up Lt. Commander McGarrett and bring him to the Makalapa Gate on Base. Iosua took the paper with a nod of assent and went about his business whilst Eddie sighed in resignation and dialled the Governor's office, "This is Captain Brown from JBPHH, may I speak with Governor Jameson? Yes, I'll hold . . ."