Frank Evershall enjoyed the Hawaiian Islands almost as much as Steve McGarrett did. His MIG project had hit another standstill and therefore he could expect a delay in his return to Japan of at least another three weeks. Evershall, dressed in a tropical weight suntan uniform, was stretched out on one of the deckchairs that Steve kept on his lanai and dozed in the early morning sun. Steve could get the authorizations needed for his transfer to the satellite program, Frank told himself, and he could enjoy sunrises like this every morning. His dreams were interrupted when he heard the sound of the front door opening. He got up out of his chair and re-entered the apartment from the lanai at the same time Steve arrived home.

"What in the world?" Frank asked as he watched Steve tiredly drop his jacket on the back of an overstuffed leather chair. "You surely weren't playing poker all night...."

Steve glared at his friend as he picked up the telephone receiver and began to dial a number.

"Steve." Evershall was unfazed by the silent warning and continued his interrogation. "Steve, you look like you slept in your clothes. What gives?"

"Shut up Frank." McGarrett replied curtly as he dialed the last number and waited for the connection. "Yes. Mam." He said into the phone. "Is Corporal Lukela on today? Oh good. When he comes in would you have him call Commander McGarrett. I'm at home. He's got the number. Mahalo." And hung up the phone.

"Mahalo?" Frank laughed. "I didn't know the Corps had gone native."

"HPD. It's business Frank." Steve shot back. "Subject closed." He added as he collapsed onto the couch.

"OK. OK. I was just curious. Geez." Frank replied somewhat offended as he walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "I'd invite you out to breakfast with Doc and I," Frank called over his shoulder as he poured a glass of juice. "But you'd probably conk out in your pancakes."

Closing the refrigerator door with his foot, Evershall carried the glass and a banana muffin into the living room. As he approached the sofa he saw that Steve had fallen asleep. He looked down at his sleeping friend with a sigh, set the items on the end table and shook his head in confusion.

He wondered what kind of 'business' his friend was up to. A knock on the half open door shifted his attention away from the lanky frame on the sofa.

"Morning Frank." Doc called out as he entered through the partly closed front door and stopped in the middle of the living room.

"Coming." Frank answered as he retrieved his jacket from the back bedroom.

Saprestien stared in confusion between McGarrett squirming in his sleep and the seemingly unconcerned attitude of his roommate.

"Business." Frank answered matter of factly as he walked up and stood next to the couch and looked at Steve.

"He looks exhausted, almost catatonic." Saprestien said with concern as he placed his hand on Steve's right wrist. "140. Good Lord. How longs he been like this?"

"Anderson! Hit the deck!" McGarrett yelled as he dove off the couch onto the floor.

"Steve!" Frank exclaimed as he knelt down and tried to shake his friend awake.

Doctor Saprestien quickly rolled his patient onto his back. He noticed the ghostly white, clammy pallor as he removed a silver penlight from his shirt pocket. "What's going on?" The physician asked as he shined the light in McGarrett's unfocused eyes.

Evershall quickly pinned Steve's flailing arms to the floor. Saprestien recovered from the attack and sat across his patient's moving legs.

"Don't know." Frank answered Doc's questioning glare. "Business was all he said. He came home this morning looking like this. He called the local cops and then dropped on the sofa."

"Nothing else?" Saprestien quizzed.

Frank shook his head.

"Are you sure?" The MD demanded.

"Yes." Frank insisted as Steve's left arm broke his grasp and he quickly regrabbed it. "No, wait." He paused as he remembered the .45 that was pointed his way. "Yesterday, he said something about images in his head. But some guy he knew had almost killed himself. I thought it was just because he was upset. You said his emotions could get weird. I didn't think....Is it important?"

"Huh....What...?" Steve mumbled as he slowly opened his eyes and focused on his surroundings. "Frankie?" He asked as he looked up at his friend with a blank stare.

"What's happening Commander?" Doc demanded as he released his hold on McGarrett's legs.

"Let go of me." Steve ordered as he tried to jerk his arms free. "I mean it Frank!"

"Commander!" Saprestien demanded.

"I'm fine." Steve insisted as he tried to slide himself up against the couch.

"I can see that." Doc countered as he watched his patient struggle to regain his equilibrium.

"Steve." Frank ordered. "Tell him what's been going on."

"I told you I'm all right." Steve retorted and gave his friend a cold glare. "Now leave me alone!"

"OK, lets go." Doc stated as he stood. "I'm going to re-admit you."

"No way!" Steve shouted as he slowly stood up and moved across the room. "I'm not going back there!"

"Steve, come off it." Frank challenged as he walked over to his friend and spun him around. "This is serious."

"No!" Steve replied sharply. "It took Heinriche and half the Joint Chief's to spring me. If I go back there, they'll never let me out."

"Steve, you're over-reacting." Frank insisted. "Give him a chance to find out what's going on."

"Back off Frank!" McGarrett barked as he leaned against the bookshelf and crossed his arms defiantly. "Damn. All this ruckus over one lousy dream."

"Dream?" Saprestien asked as he sensed a possible reason for the behavior that he had just witnessed. "That didn't look like any dream to me. Care to explain why you were yelling at Lieutenant Anderson?"

"Because he was in it." Steve retorted defensively. "Think whatever you want doctor, but there's no way I'm going back with you."

"Dream......." Doc uttered to himself as he bent down to retrieve the half-empty Mepergan bottle that had fallen off the coffee table and rolled partly under the sofa. "Just how much of this are you taking?"

"Just what the bottle says." Steve replied curiously, his defiance waning just a little. "Why...?"

"One every four to six hours." Doc read as he tossed the bottle from hand to hand. "That depends on whether its closer to four or six."

"Probably four." Frank answered before Steve could say anything in his own defense.

"With your morphine sensitivity....it's possible....."Saprestien said as he thought aloud.

"What's possible?" Steve asked as he pushed himself off the bookcase. "I'm in no mood to play games."

"Mepergan, my obstinate Commander." Saprestien said as he rose to the challenge. "One of the side effects can be hallucinations." The physician then calmly explained. "Especially if you're not eating and running yourself ragged. Which of course you are NOT doing I'm certain." He replied with a glare.

"You're kidding." Steve replied in amazement. "That's it?"

"More than likely." Saprestien commented. "After the Sodium Pentathol episode in the hospital, I've been prescribing on the high side of normal. If its not clearing out fast enough, you could be getting toxic." He placed the bottle back on the table and added. "That could explain anything from decreased appetite to hallucinations and mood swings."

Steve was taken aback by what the doctor said. That could explain the intensity of the dreams he'd been having. It was the medication he tried to assure himself, and nothing else. He slowly walked back to the couch and collapsed on it. Steve remained speechless as he sighed deeply and wearily ran his hand through his hair.

"See I told you." Frank, though his voice was filled with concern, chided his friend. "Give him a chance to help you. You've been in the spy business too long."

"OK. Compromise." Saprestien proposed. "If I promise that unless something major shows up, I won't admit you. Will you let me do another EEG and a blood workup?"

"Maybe later." McGarrett agreed as he looked up at Doc. "I've got some business to finish first."

The loud ring of the telephone cut like a knife through the tenseness of the room.

Steve quickly grabbed the receiver expecting it to be his contact from the police department. "Duke." Steve anxiously stated into the receiver. It was not the call he was expecting. "Oh Herb." He said as he paused to switch mental gears. "Hi. How's India?"

"India!" Doc exclaimed but stopped abruptly at Frank's warning glare.

"Weren't you guys going somewhere?" Steve asked with his hand over the phone.

"Business." Frank retorted as he rolled his eyes in exasperation. " Come on Doc. We'd hate to accidentally overhear Kruschev's hat size."

"Seven and a quarter" Steve grinned at the pair of officers. "He has them custom made in a little shop just off of Gorki Park." He couldn't help but smile at the friendship that had grown between the two men since his crash. He returned his attention back to the phone as Frank closed the door behind them.

"Yeah Herb, I'm fine." He continued into the phone as he put his feet up on the coffee table. "Really fine. Before I forget; Bill lost part of his notes. I know." McGarrett laughed with the man on the phone's joke about Fitzsimmons' organizational skills as he retrieved a pencil. "But there's nobody better when it comes to watching your back. Just the dates and times. He's got the rest reconstructed."

******************

"So all that's just because of a drug?" Frank asked as he unlocked the door to the Thunderbird.

"Maybe." Doc answered quietly. There were many other explanations for the erratic behavior that could have far reaching implications.

"What do you mean maybe?" Evershall demanded. "If there's something else wrong I'll go back up there and make him come."

"You saw how paranoid he was getting." Doc pointed out. "Frank, the only way you'd have gotten him to go would have been in a straight jacket. And that would have been counter-productive."

"Yeah. I was worried when he said that the Joint Chief's had sprung him."Evershall admitted as he slid into the car.

"No." Saprestien informed as he sat on the passenger seat and closed the door. "That wasn't a hallucination. I was ordered by Washington to release him."

"What!" Evershall exclaimed.

"Frank, when the Surgeon General calls you personally with a request, you don't say no." The physician frowned and shook his head as he continued. "I don't like what this is doing to him any more than you do. But what can we do? Whatever's going on must be mighty important."

"There's got to be something!" Frank shouted as he pounded his fist on the steering wheel in frustration.

"Calm down Frank or you'll crash right along with him." Saprestien warned. "The Mepergan probably has a lot to do with it, but something's got to be fueling the fire. I didn't lie it does affect the central nervous system, but you saw how relaxed he became. Hell, he was laughing with whomever in India. But more importantly he agreed to the tests, and I WILL hold him to the bargain."

"Damn Doc." Frank laughed as he started the car. "It's taken me fifteen years to learn how to handle him and you did it in three months."

*************

Having gone home only to shower and change clothes an exhausted Heinriche entered the front door of the Intelligence building. Private Jones jumped to attention and saluted as he always did when an officer walked in. Heinriche automatically returned the salute and scrawled his name on the log. He tossed the pen back at the counter only to watch it roll off onto his side of the floor. Nuts! He swore to himself as he bent over to retrieve it. He rubbed his sore back muscles as he straightened up. This morning Captain Albert Heinriche felt all of his 58 years. As he passed the desk Private Jones noticed that the officer had forgotten his security badge.

"Captain." He stated crisply as he stepped out from behind the desk.

"What!?" Heinriche, annoyed at the delay, barked as he stopped mid-stride and turned around to face the young marine.

Jones swallowed a huge lump in his throat when he saw the intense anger in the captain's bloodshot eyes and remembered the fear he had felt after nearly flooring Commander McGarrett. The butterflies in his stomach took flight and his mouth went dry. The commander was bad enough. Man it's not worth it. Jones decided and quickly snapped to attention. "Have a nice day Sir." He replied.

"Thanks Private." Heinriche mumbled as he continued towards the elevator.

Bill Fitzsimmons felt like he had been run over by a tank as he entered the Intelligence Building, automatically signed his name on the log and proceeded towards the elevators. Lost in thought, he did not notice that Captain Heinriche was also waiting for the same elevator. The bourbon he had at the Officer's Club had not mixed well with the beer from Nelson's card game or the cayenne pepper coated chicken wings. Now the Bloody Mary with a raw egg 'guaranteed hang over cure' was churning its way dangerously close to the top of his stomach and the Rolaids weren't helping. He hadn't drank to forget like he had done the previous night in a long time. After being released by the North Koreans following the cease-fire, Fitzsimmons came back to find his wife living in San Diego with a zookeeper whom she had met in a bar. The divorce, difficulty re-adjusting to freedom and being stationed in Japan where all the 'locals' looked like Koreans to him had sent Fitzsimmons spiraling down a long, dark and lonely drunken tunnel. After being passed over for promotion by his commanding officer and a mutually agreeable transfer to Hawaii, he had finally gotten his life back together He was even thinking about marriage again, until last night. Why on Earth would McGarrett's casual reference to North Korea bother me now. Bill wondered as he waited for the elevator.

Heinriche looked up as a shadow passed by the corner of his eye. Fitzsimmons! He groaned to himself and crossed his arms in a defensive manner.

The ding of the elevator bell snapped Lt Fitzsimmons out of his rumination and he stepped towards the open door.

Heinriche rudely cut in front of Bill in order to position himself in the rear of the car where he could observe the traitor without having to worry about a bayonet being shoved between his shoulderblades.

Fitzsimmons over the past several months had become accustomed to Heinriche's behavior and silently followed the captain into the car.

The elevator had just began to ascend when both men heard a loud clunk and the cage jerked to an abrupt stop.

Fitzsimmons tried to control his fear as he pushed each of the buttons. They were trapped.

***************

Having spent over two hours trapped with Bill Fitzsimmons, the enemy agent, while they waited for the maintenance masterchief to fix the elevator motor Heinriche wanted only to be left alone in his office. Unable to make sense out of his routine paperwork Heinney set aside his pen, yawned and stretched his fatigued muscles. Intending only to rest his eyes for a moment the captain leaned back in his chair. His last conscious thought was to hope that McGarrett was home in bed. What seemed like only moments later, the captain was briefly aroused by a remote knocking sound. Somebody slammed a door is all. His subconscious concluded. Go back to sleep. His tired body eager to comply with the subliminal suggestion; Heinriche shifted slightly in his chair and resumed his snoring.

"Sir?" Anderson asked as he reluctantly shook his commanding officer. "Are you all right?"

"What!" Heinriche demanded sternly as he jolted himself upright in the chair. "Anderson." He exhaled and ran his fingers through his thinning light brown hair and tried to reorient himself. "What do you want?" He barked at the rude awakening.

"Uh..It's about the directive Sir." Glen explained as he picked up his voltmeter.

"Directive?" Heinriche asked in confusion.

"From Washington." Glen replied in a slightly keyed up manner.

Heinriche stared at Anderson blankly.

"About 'insect control'." Glen explained as he waved the voltmeter.

"Oh. THAT directive." Heinriche, annoyed that his sleep had been interrupted for a fake order, snapped. "What about it Lieutenant?"

"I think, Sir, you'd better come with me." Anderson replied as he opened the office door.

The quickest way to be rid of the possibly traitorous officer was to do whatever he wanted Heinriche thought as he followed the tall Swede into the hallway. When Anderson stopped at the service elevator the captain knew he was being taken to the roof. The memory of being stuck in the elevator with the definitely traitorous Fitzsimmons still fresh in his mind the Old Man insisted that he take the stairs instead. Glen nearly severed his tongue as he tried to keep from laughing at Heinriche's paranoia.

Fitzsimmons, wearing his trademark aviator sunglasses, was stretched out on one of the deckchairs in The Garden when the two officers walked up. The big Texan was smoking his third cigarette as he tried to calm himself. "Sir." He saluted and quickly sat up in the chair. "Hey Glen." He added.

Heinriche's suspicions were confirmed. He was livid at the sight of the turncoat seemingly enjoying himself in the sun. Had he realized that he'd forgotten a microphone up here and planted himself purposefully to overhear my reaction. Heinriche wondered. "What is going on here? Don't you have work to do Lieutenant!" Heinney barked.

"Yes Sir." Fitzsimmons replied quietly as he took a last drag on his cigarette and crushed it in the nearby plastic ashtray.

"Then I suggest that you do it." Heinriche ordered.

"Yes Sir!" Fitzsimmons said as he stood, snapped a salute and reluctantly entered the stairwell.

"Sir." Glen said as he watched the normally energy conservent Fitzsimmons enter the stairwell. "Take it easy on him. The elevator kind of shook him up."

"I don't give a damn what he's got." Heinriche snapped. "And I warned you before about questioning my actions Anderson. Now what is it you wanted to tell me?"

"I almost didn't sweep up here." Glen whispered as he pointed towards the palm tree.

Heinriche quickly glanced at the microphone and feigning surprise, pulled Glen back into the stairwell. "Are there 'termites' in here?"

"No Sir." Anderson replied. "I've been everyplace else. Except your office."

"I'll take care of that." The captain stated. "You go over everything again. Carefully." He sure brought it to my attention quick enough. I haven't been able to find anything on him except the trips. Maybe McGarrett was right about him. OR he's a good liar. He sure was buddy buddy this morning with that snake Fitzsimmons trying to keep him off the cage walls. I was just as trapped and nobody told me to breathe deep. Anderson had the worm thinking he was swimming under a waterfall. Oh well at least it stopped the crying. They could be in it together. "I want a report on this Lieutenant. And The Garden's off limits till further notice. Spread the word."

There were two microphones in the captain's office when he returned. Anderson didn't have time. Heinriche decided as he peered between the slats of the venetian blinds and saw the Texan at his desk. "FITZSIMMMONS!" He growled under his breath.

*************

An hour later Heinriche, now awake for the day, was again trying to make sense of the weekly disposition form when Anderson burst into his office waving the voltmeter.

"Sir. Somebody wants to see you." He said as he pointed towards the rear door with the voltmeter. "I think it's your 'ant' Sir."

"I don't have an...." Heinriche started to answer as Glen re-emphasized the urgency of his need for the captain to follow him and anxiously waved towards the back of the building with the voltmeter. "Oh" He uttered as he finally caught on to the meaning of the lieutenant's cryptic homophone. "Uncle Ivan's wife. By all means let's go. The captain replied as he hesitantly followed Anderson into the rear service elevator for the short ride to the ground floor exit.

"OK Sir." Anderson demanded as he turned around and faced Heinriche. "What's going on! I swept the place earlier this morning and now I found eighteen more of those things!." He tried to control the rising pitch of his voice as he continued. "In places that I know I had already looked!"

"You found what!" Heinriche exploded as he began suddenly feel weak in the knees.

"Yes Sir." Glen replied with his frustration evident in his voice. "They're all over. Wardroom, fileroom, under the desk, even in the head.

"Under whose desk Lieutenant?" The captain demanded.

"Steve's, Sir." Glen replied as he leaned against the outside wall of the building. "Whoever put them out knows that he's not here to find it."

"Is that all Anderson?" Heinriche snapped in disappointment that it wasn't Fitzsimmons desk.

"No Sir." Glen answered disconcertingly as he pulled a plastic bag containing three tiny microphones out of his shirt pocket. "I found these in the back of my desk drawer a few minutes ago."

Heinriche's eyes went wide when he saw the devices. "These were in your drawer Lieutenant?" The captain asked skeptically.

"Yes Sir. There's no prints on them." Glen, his eyes wide in confusion, answered. "And this" He informed, removing a plastic bag containing a small screwdriver from his back pocket. "Was in my locker. I've never seen it before."

"Let me guess, you didn't find any fingerprints on it either?" Heinriche asked grimly.

"None Sir. And according to Chief, it's not Navy issue."

"So, we're possibly dealing with a civilian ."Heinriche answered with a curious look.

"I guess so Sir. Why would somebody want to frame me for this?" Glen asked.

"Maybe because you're guilty!" Heinriche barked

"What!" Glen exclaimed dumbfounded by the captain's accusation. "That's bullshit Sir!" He yelled and squared off against the captain. "I don't know what's going on but I'm starting to smell a cover up!"

What was to be gained by Glen's self incrimination Heinriche wondered at the illogical action. Maybe McGarrett could be right about him after all.

"Lieutenant. Was your locker locked?" Heinriche interrupted

"It will be, starting tomorrow." Glen hissed. "I'm not going down for something I don't know anything about!"

"Anderson relax." Heinriche said as he put his arm around Glen's shoulder. "No one's accusing you of anything. Now, where you found the bugs, had you checked there earlier?"

"Yes Sir. I heisted some of Steve's paperclips and the needle nearly flew off." He stated as he waved the voltmeter back and forth. "The fridge in the wardroom. I was in the head. Sir....We've got a real problem."

OK Lieutenant. Get one of the bugs. Kill it and find out what you can about it. I want a report by the end of watch. Out here." The captain ordered with his hand on the doorknob. "And Anderson...there's two more in my office."

"Holy sh...Sir!" Glen exclaimed in disbelief.

"Anderson." Heinriche stated as he started to walk away. "I want this kept just between us for now. I'm going to walk around a bit out here and see if I can see anything unusual."

"Alone Sir?" Glen asked frankly. "Is that wise?"

Heinriche spun around and glared at Anderson. "Are you saying that I don't know what I'm doing Lieutenant!"

"No Sir." Glen stammered as he tried to justify himself. "But under the circumstances, walking about might be dangerous if you stumble onto something."

"Well thank you for your concern Lieutenant." He replied and softened his glare. "And I thought I was just 'Pain in the Heinney' to you. Very well, you come along then."

"Yes Sir." Glen replied as he felt his heart jump into his throat. Surprised, swallowed hard and wondered how many of his other comments the captain was aware of. " The output on these babies must be really low." Glen stated as he waved the plastic bag of microphones. "I found a signal booster behind the crest in the hallway." Anderson informed as they walked through the parking lot. "Sir one of these cars is probably a recording station."

"Good thought Lieutenant. OK. Call the shore patrol, find out whose car is whose. And all of these staff cars..I want to know who has been checking them out?"

"That's Chief Morgan's job Sir." Anderson replied.

"Lieutenant?" Heinriche, having made a decision, implored. "Have you seen Steve lately?"

"Not since we took him home the other day." Glen answered and felt a little guilty about not visiting. "I'm sure he's OK. Frank's still here. If anything had happened he would have called me."

"I'm going to take a chance." Heinriche declared as he stopped at his car and opened the driver's door. "Tell Chief to get on those cars. Then come with me. And toss that thing in here."

********

Glen pointed out the directions as Heinriche drove towards McGarrett's quarters. As he passed his own house curiosity overcame the captain. "How did he get an apartment here? This is the senior officer's section. He hasn't had time to request new quarters. Do you know where you are going Lieutenant?"

"Yes Sir. I ought to I've been here enough times. It's a long story Sir. When Steve filled out his housing form, some yahoo of a recruit abbreviated commander as CMD instead of CDR. The petty officer in charge misinterpreted is as ADM for admiral and assigned Steve over here." Glen explained as he gestured to turn left at the stop sign. "Steve informed them of the mistake and the whole thing got bucked around for weeks. He was staying with me when he first arrived and when we both brought home girls at the same time, Steve decided he was going to go ahead and move into his new apartment until they threw him out. By the time his housing form went through all the channels some Wagner loving captain told him since he'd already unpacked, he might just as well stay there. So that's how Steve got his palace. Worked out pretty well with Frank here and all."

Heinriche bit his tongue to keep from laughing and shook his head as he parked his car in front of the building. "I'll sweep the place." The Old Man ordered as he grabbed the voltmeter off the back seat. "You get him. If he's having one of those dreams it'd be easier on him to find you than me."

"Dreams Sir?" Glen asked as he selected the key to Steve's apartment from his key ring.

"Never mind. Just get him. Quietly."

As the officers entered the apartment they found Steve dressed in a gray US NAVY T-shirt and diving shorts sitting on his couch staring into space.

"Hey." Glen said as he shook his friend slightly as he sat down next to him. "What's up?"

"Nothing much." Steve replied suspiciously. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not sure." Glen answered as he put his feet up on the coffee table and made himself comfortable. "Heinriche brought me over. He's checking for 'termites'."

"Huh?" Steve replied with a quizzical look.

"Nothing here." Heinriche stated as he returned to the living room from the back bedroom.

"Sir?" Steve asked as he stared up at Heinriche with a confused look on his face.

"You win Commander." The captain conceded. "I'm letting him in on our predicament."

"Change of heart Sir." McGarrett snapped,his voice edged in sarcasm.

"Steve, the bugs are back." Heinriche announced.

"What?" McGarrett gulped in surprise. "You're kidding. How??" He exhaled deeply as he looked at Heinriche. "I guess that means we can proceed then Sir."

Heinriche nodded his head in resignation

Glen looked back and forth between the two men. "Does somebody want to tell me what's going on?" He asked.

The captain waved his hand in McGarrett's general direction to indicate he should inform his friend about the situation they faced.

As Steve slowly began to explain everything that had transpired since his abrupt rooftop departure, Anderson stared at him dumbfoundedly. As the tale of background checks continued Glen's pale blue eyes began to fire. Finally the realization that HE had been investigated by the man he considered his closest friend leveled Anderson. This sent his mind reeling in a thousand different directions as he tried to make sense of what he had just heard.

"You were investigating me!" Glen exclaimed as he leaped from the couch. "Steve! After what we went through!!" He angrily grabbed hold of the front of Steve's shirt and pulled back his fist. "If you weren't screwed up I swear I'd" He hissed as he waved his fist in McGarrett's face.

"Glen I..." Steve tried to explain as he raised his left arm to block the punch he knew, by the look in Glen's eyes, WAS coming.

"Hold it!" Heinriche shouted as he grabbed Anderson's arm and pulled it up behind his back in an arm bar.

Unfazed by the physical discomfort Anderson struggled to grab at his 'friend'.

"Judas!" Glen swore. "You're not gonna get another medal off me for this one!"

Heinriche pulled up on Glen's arm until he screamed in agony but continued reaching towards the traitor on the couch. "ANDERSON!" The captain ordered as he applied a chokehold to the angry Swede's muscular neck. "Calm down!"

Glen continued to struggle but was unable to free himself from the captain's grasp. When his oxygen supply was expended Anderson ceased struggling.

Heinriche cautiously released the chokehold.

"OK" Glen whispered between gulps of air.

Heinriche released the grip on Anderson's arm.

Feeling himself momentarily free, Glen quickly dodged the captain and grabbed hold of Steve's shirt and jerked him up off of the couch. "After all that." Glen hissed in Steve's face."You could betray me like this." He felt his blood boil at the loss of his most valued friend that he now wanted to strangle. Glen shook Steve a few times and pushed him back down on the sofa. His fists balled in anger. "OK. You saved my neck once. I guess I owe you for that. But this is it! We're finished!!"

The room was spinning counterclockwise but Steve tried to ignore that. "Glen I..." He began but paused briefly as his mind reeled in the opposite direction as he tried to explain. "You never owed me anything. I happened to be in the neighborhood." He said as his eyes met Glen's acid glare. McGarrett felt his polychromatic world turn gray. "I tried to turn down the Cross. Glen you know that. Anderson please." Love, fear, desperation, and anger: all of Steve's emotions churned perilously close to the exploding point. "You're the one who insisted I take it. All I did was knock you down once. Probably a hundred times you kept me from giving up back then."

Steve swallowed hard as he leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. Despite the warmth of the room Steve felt a deep cold that penetrated through to his core. His logic was overwhelmed by the wave of desperation that assaulted him. Communication had never been easy for McGarrett, although Annapolis had taught him presence when addressing a crowd. He had never mastered self-expression on a personal level. How many relationships has that cost me Steve thought as the realization that he had just lost his best friend hit him. "Glen...I didn't....you're important to me....."

"Yeah. I'm important all right!" Anderson shouted. "You get two dollars and ten cents a month for being a hero! Glad to have helped you out Ol' Buddy." Glen retorted sarcastically. "But you'll still get that after I'm gone so don't worry."

"I'm sorry Glen." Steve mumbled as he slowly stood up and walked out onto the lanai.

It was a beautiful day as the warm island sun brightened the green philodendron leaves. The sky provided a brilliant blue backdrop for the pink tinged clouds that hung over the Weather Operations Building across the street. A tiny brief metallic glint from that direction hit him in the eye but its implication was lost on McGarrett. As if sensing his depression, even Steve's potted orchid tried to glow a little more lavender. But to McGarrett everything was black and white. He had just lost his best friend for something he had not wanted to do in the first place. As he stood on the deck Steve felt hollow on the inside. When his father was killed he had gone into a protective shell. And now, twenty years later, he realized he was still alone inside it. His mother had died while he was in Korea. MaryAnn and Tom were living in LA now. His friend Paul was dead. Sure Frank was here for now but he would, unless Steve did some fast-talking, have to leave shortly. Hennessy's clear over in Hong Kong. Ron, I only see him once a year on the layover in San Diego. Steve thought. Now his friendship with Glen was over. "How did my life get so screwed up?" He asked the orchid. And now I'm talking to plants..... He leaned on the rail and stared obliviously towards the Weather Building. McGarrett realized he was completely alone and with no foreseeable escape from it in the near future. He felt eighty years old as he idly played with the herbs in the planter box as his mind wandered further into depression. Glen's oregano.... How am I going to get up in the morning?.....Why bother?.... Steve wondered as he plucked a hard object out of the dirt. Kathy.... was his last thought as his world suddenly went black.

**********

Inside the apartment, Heinriche grabbed hold of Glen's uniform blouse and roughly shoved him backward onto the vacated couch. "Don't take it out on him Lieutenant!" The captain ordered and sternly glared at Anderson as he pinned him down to the sofa. "He's got enough crap to deal with right now. Everyone had to be checked out. Including me. That's SOP Lieutenant. You know that as well as I do. I was the one who cleared you. So if you want to hit another superior officer go right ahead. But let me assure you this one WILL press charges."

As Heinriche straightened himself he looked out the door and watched Steve as he played with his plants.

Glen slowly began to calm down as the captain explained the particulars of the case again. "If it's worth anything to you Anderson, he refused to vet you. I only promised to do it in order to keep him from having a stroke in my office. It might interest you to know, he was prepared to resign his commission over you." Heinriche informed as he removed Steve's jacket from the back and sat in the overstuffed leather chair. "Look at this logically Lieutenant. You take alot of trips around the Far East. And the best place to recruit a double agent has always been a POW camp. The evidence was there, and I wasn't sure until I saw the look on your face when the bugs reappeared that you weren't involved." With a deep sigh the captain continued. "It's a bad time for all of us Lieutenant; and the best way to get through it is to catch the bastard who is selling us out. Are you with us or not?"

Glen slowly stood and walked around the room as he tried to comprehend everything he had heard in the past half-hour. As he stared at the wall ,Glen's eyes locked on a photograph of the four ex-POWs. It was the first time they had taken Ron from the hospital for an afternoon on the rented yacht Glen remembered. An old man had volunteered to take their picture. As Glen glanced over at the patio doors he suddenly felt guilty for having doubted his friend. "Yeah. I'm in." He told Heinriche, who had walked up and stood behind him. "Lets get the SOB."

"Good man." The captain, relieved that the tension was over, replied. He smiled and slapped his officer on the back. "Now then. Can I trust the two of you in the same room?"

"Yes Sir." Glen replied and realized that he needed to apologize to his friend. "You can." This time, when he looked out the doors, he didn't see Steve on the deck. "Oh nuts. Where'd he go? Steve?" He called out curiously as he entered the kitchen. "Come on. I'm a jerk sometimes........but don't...." Glen looked down at the floor of the deck and saw Steve sprawled sideways on the teakwood. "Oh man!" He gasped in horror. "Captain get over here on the double!"

"What is it...." Heinriche asked as he stared down at the deck. "Is he in Korea again?"

"Steve?" Glen asked as he knelt down to examine his friend. Having gotten no response he turned Steve over onto his back in order to examine him. Glen felt something wet and sticky on his hand as he removed it from underneath Steve's body.

Heinriche approached to help.

"Sir!" Glen yelled as he grabbed Steve under the arms. "Get back off the deck!" He shouted as he quickly pulled Steve in behind him and adjusted him into a supine position, out of view from the sliding doors, on the terracotta tiled kitchen/diningroom floor. "Sir." He stated pointing at the growing red spot on McGarrett's gray T-shirt. "Hallucinations don't bleed. Somebody shot him!"

"Oh my God!" Heinriche uttered. "Is he....."

"No. He's still breathing." Glen informed as he watched the regular rise and fall of Steve's chest. "I think he knocked himself out when he fell." Glen gestured towards the small hematoma forming on McGarrett's left temple and stared up at the captain. "What the hell's going on?" Anderson asked bluntly.

Before Heinriche could answer Steve began to move slightly as he started to come to.

"What..." Steve murmured quietly in response to his name and attempted to sit up. Unable to maintain his balance he fell back over sideways. "Glen?" He asked in confusion as he tried to orientate himself. "This might be a dumb question but, how come we're on the floor?"

"Relax Commander, we don't know yet." Heinriche replied reassuringly.

"Because somebody just sniped you off the deck." Glen informed and gave the captain a 'yes you do know what's happening' glare.

"WHAT!" Steve groaned as he became aware of the pain in his left side and cautiously moved his hand towards the area. "I'm not..." He began to say until he felt the blood seeping between the closed fingers of his right hand and laid back on the floor. "Why...?" He whispered as the room began to spin again.

"Jealous husband?" Glen grinned as he offered to help his friend up.

"Nah." Steve retorted through clenched teeth as Anderson took hold of his left arm and pulled him up. "That's more your style."

"Doesn't look too serious. Just slight crease" Heinriche informed as he helped Glen guide Steve towards the couch. "Couple days back in the hospital won't do you any harm."

"Sir I'm in this thing." McGarrett insisted as he tried to keep his knees from buckling before he was able to reach the couch.

"Commander!" Heinriche barked as he stared at his officer. "It's over. Anderson and I'll catch him tonight."

"No way!" Steve retorted as he straightened up to face the captain only to wish he had opted for the seat on the couch instead. If the room and his stomach would not cease their gyrating, McGarrett prayed, then at least let them spin in the same direction. Cautiously he shrugged off Anderson's assistance and returned Heinriche's glare. "Somebody just tried to kill me. I intend to finish this!"

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