Steve McGarrett

"I'm not saying that Grace shouldn't be punished for sneaking out and going to a Halloween party," Steve said, a conversation that clearly started a while ago. "I'm just saying that I definitely did the same thing when I was a teenager."

He glanced along the street, looking for an intersection. "I think we're close to where Harry told us to meet him."

Steve was in black cargo pants and a black t-shirt. Danny was getting into a tux. (Steve didn't trust their new spy friend Harry farther than he could he throw him with one arm and wo uld be watching him while Danny and Kono went in to meet with the smarmy British information broker. Steve hated most parts of this plan.)

"Danno?" he called up the stairs. "If you need help with the bow tie, you're out of luck with me, pal."

Steve and Danny had caught a few hours of sleep in their office after Jerry had figured out the small carved ivory pieces were pawns from an 11th Century chess set, and Chin set their insane McGuffin database searching to see if something like that had ever been seen in Hawai'i.

(Steve didn't know how Jerry had figured that out about the chess piece. He suspected it had involved a reverse image search on Bing, then a lot of Antiques Roadshow binging.)

He rubbed grit from his eyes and was starting up the coffee when Chin finally called them in with a hit.

"A young Kahala couple--Steve and Marissa Blake--disappeared, along with several high-priced items including an 11th century-style walrus ivory chess set, about eight years ago," he said as the photo of the chess set flickered onto their computer screen. "Look familiar?"

"Yeah, those are identical to the ones we recovered from the mouths of our victims-slash-also murderers," Steve replied. "Were there any suspects in this case?"

"One," Chin said with a pleased smile. "A Pierre Shaw, 32 years old. Recently paroled for possession of stolen goods."

"Looks like we're going to pay a visit," Steve said. "Danno, with me."

Steve had been living his Best Otter Life for the last week. He was eating fish! He was playing on the beach! He was collecting the best rocks for Charlie, Grace, and Danny (some of those people were more grateful about the rocks than others)! He was...okay, he was stealing tourists' surfboards and surfing on them and not giving them back and that might be a little bit of acting out and also got him onto the news, but he was an otter and did not believe in consequences!

Otter life was so much better than medically dismissed, pity promoted, ex-Navy life! Steve was happy to stay an otter forever!

...Steve was now a naked human in the Pacific Ocean.

"Fuck a duck."

Steve hadn't been expecting mail, let alone a thick manila envelope emblazoned with the seal of the US Navy and delivered overnight express. He'd been in the military long enough to know that unexpected paperwork was seldom a good thing, and so he thanked the delivery guy and took the package into the living room, sitting down on the sofa to open it.

He tipped the envelope over and a small black box fell into his hand, followed by a sheaf of papers. He opened the box first. Silver oak leaves on black velvet. An off-cycle promotion.

His stomach turned into knots as he picked up the sheet of paper on top. Cardstock. Calligraphy.

Honorable Discharge.

"Commander Steven J. McGarrett was honorably discharged from the United States Navy on June 15, 2010," he read aloud in a shaky voice. "This certificate is awarded as a testimonial of honest and faithful service."

And a tiny part of him, the one who knew just how logical and cold the military was, knew it was coming. He'd be on anti-rejection drugs for the rest of his life for the liver transplant. He couldn't be deployed like that. He couldn't serve like that. The Navy wasn't ever going to hug him back.

He'd hoped for an exception. For an explanation. For a phone call first.

Shit.

"Shit," he said, wiping his eyes.

Steve had gone to bed a 20-something super-soldier who'd run around the island being healthy and athletic and woken up in his nearly 40-year-old body that was still recovering from a liver transplant and being shot multiple times. It took three tries to get out of bed and to walk slowly (he wouldn't call it hobbling, but someone else might) towards the kitchen, only to discover that his other self had eaten alllll of the food.

He was blaming the other Danny for drinking all the expensive coffee.

"Dammit," he muttered, staring into the empty fridge.

The team had come by today to check on them today now that Steve was awake for more than five minutes at time.

He was awake. Awake and bored. Booooooooooooooored. Tired of staring at the ceiling, tired of staring at the wall, tired of eating applesauce and chicken broth, tired of feeling like his head was a balloon trying to drift away thanks to the cocktail of drugs he was on. Tired of the actual balloons, flowers, and cards (even from convicted felons, what the hell, Sang Min, Steve wouldn't send you a card if you'd been in a plane crash).

Steve was taking it out on Danny, who didn't deserve it and had justifiably shut the curtain between them. So now Steve was stuck watching this stupid soap opera he'd insisted he wanted to watch, definitely not falling asleep.

Everything about this situation was stupid and annoying.

[OOC: for the poor roommate.]

The call from their meth dealing mark came in on Saturday, so Steve and Danny didn't have to fly with all of their baggage crashing around them.

They'd taken a portal back to Honolulu and then the Cessna they'd commandeered over to Turtle Island to meet Dae Won, who'd then packed the cargo area full of meth.

Steve reminded himself not to kill this guy immediately because they needed his contact on O'ahu, too.

He'd slid into the pilot seat, put on his sunglasses, and taken himself, Danny, and Dae Won into the sky, heading back for O'ahu.

The small talk was excruciating for the first part of their hour-long flight, even with their covers as people who didn't care about drug shipments, and Steve was almost excited to see another aircraft coming up behind them. Maybe it'd be the Coast Guard. He didn't care who got the credit for the bust, as long as the drugs stopped coming in.

"You expecting company?" he asked Dae Won idly.

[OOC: Warning for incoming character injury. Taken from episode 6.25]

Nahele's friend had overdosed on fentanyl-laced crystal meth, making him the 11th victim of the same drug cocktail in the last two weeks.

Steve had promised Nahele he'd never let anyone hurt him, and that had been a promise he'd also made to the entire state when he'd put on the badge. Five-O had chased down a few leads yesterday and O'ahu was small enough for him to realize pretty quickly that the drugs had to be being brought onto the island. (They knew most of the big players and none of them were making product like this.)

And so now Steve was working on the engine of a small airplane, the top part of the flight suit tied around his waist to expose his undershirt because it was hot as hell, waiting for the contact to...well, make contact.

[OOC: For the much aggrieved partner, and all the SP.]

Steve, as usual, had absolutely no idea where on the planet his mother was, and after half of a lifetime thinking she was dead...well, Mother's Day was kind of weird headspace for him to inhabit.

It had taken him three days, a half dozen favors, and Joe being squirrely for absolutely no reason before he had a phone number that he was 80 percent sure was his mother's. He texted her a quick Thinking about you and heard nothing for most of the day, which, well, even if it was his mom, completely tracked.

He shrugged it off and moved on (...mostly) and busied himself with a salad to go with the comfort food Danny was making himself tonight to get over not being in Jersey with his sisters and parents.

His phone dinged with an incoming text from an unknown number. No flowers?

At least he knew it was his mother?