'Uhane, Chapter 1

By Cokie

Hello again to everyone. I started this back a few weeks ago and progressed rather quickly for a while before that thing called "real life" slowed me down. Now, I hope to be back on track and will post, in the beginning, a chapter a week. Once I near the end, I hope to post two per week... but don't hold me to that just yet. I am working on chapter 9 right now and I don't think there will be more than 11 or 12 at the max.

I have had four great betas look at my work and I appreciate so much all that they do to make my ramblings so much more concise and well, believable. Many, many thanks on top of even more mahalos :) to Sockie1000, Sym64, Rogue Tomato and Sherry57. They are absolutely great and masters at what they can do! The malasadas are my treat! But only if I can serve them with Diet Coke.

As always, I own none of this, but am thankful that the people who do own it all allow me to 'gently' play with them from time to time. Steve may disagree with the 'gentle' comment, but I do return them back just the way I found them. Well... for the most part.

And I can't say it enough, but thank you to all readers who read, review and hit that 'like' button. Last time, I got bogged down and was horrible with timely 'thank you's', but I promise to do much better with this story. But for the guests that I can't reach, this is a thank you to you from the start!


Another Monday morning.

Steve slapped the alarm clock with a vengeance, daring that little buzzer to go off again. Some mornings, he just hated 0530… and this was one of them. He rolled toward the middle of the bed, seeking the warmth he knew he would find. Half-awake, Catherine turned toward him and intertwined one leg between his.

That little movement woke up his body more than the clock ever could. And for that reason, they ran late for the rest of the morning.

She was supposed to be on base at 0645. When they finally checked the time, it was 0605.

"Oh! Fudge," she squeaked and jumped out of bed, dragging the sheet with her.

Steve rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his hand, grinning at her. "Fudge?"

She grabbed up clothes as she talked. "New Year's resolution. I'm going to quit swearing. Damn, where are my pants?"

"Good luck with that," he drawled.

"What? Finding my pants?"

"Yeah, where are those 'damn' pants. Hey, isn't that a swear word?"

"Oh, shut up, McGarrett and make yourself useful. I'm going to hit the shower."

He scooted to the side of the bed and stood up. "I'll find your pants. And shoes." He gave her a peck on the forehead and pushed her toward the bathroom. "Probably your phone… and purse…"

He heard the words "I hate you" as the bathroom door slammed shut. He could only grin as he pulled on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt with the sleeves cut off before heading downstairs. He smiled when he found her jeans in the kitchen. Apparently she forgot where they had come off last night. After getting her shoes and socks, he carried everything back upstairs so they would be waiting when she got out of the shower.

Her uniform was on base and she would change properly once she got there. This was only to get her decent for the trip to base. The trip took 12 minutes on a good day. Steve hoped that 0630 on a Monday would be a good time… although he knew all about gridlock on the island.

Steve dropped off the clothes and then raced back downstairs to start the coffee.

Note to Self: Get programmable coffee pot… and a less obnoxious alarm.

In mere minutes, Catherine bounded down the stairs where she was met by Steve bearing a to-go coffee mug filled with steaming coffee. He pointed to the end table where he had set her phone and purse. She fastened her still-wet hair up in a clip and then quickly threw the purse over her shoulder, shoved the phone into her pocket and reached for the mug. "Thank you, Commander," she told him with a smile.

"You're welcome, Lieutenant. See you next weekend?"

"Absolutely," she said, grinning at him. "I'm counting down the hours. Can't wait to get maneuvers over."

His only stipulation for the gifts he handed her was a goodbye kiss, which she gladly gave him.

Their lips still locked together, Steve opened the front door to allow her to go through first.

He was not expecting the immediate pain at his temple that knocked him backward where he fell to the floor.

Catherine screamed "Steve" while being shoved back into the living room by a second gun-wielding man wearing a black face mask. His .38 was up under her chin, pressing her head back, his other hand grabbing her hair. The man removed the gun, but held onto her hair, surprised when she slammed her head into his face, immediately causing blood to gush from his nose.

"Son of a…" Before she had a chance to move, he backhanded her, knocking her down and into the coffee table.

She pressed the back of her hand against her cut lip, trying to stifle the bleeding. Catherine bit off a scream when her arm was jerked upward and the gun was planted once again beneath her chin.

Steve managed to get to his knees; his head swimming and blood dripping into his left eye, but he prepared to stand when he saw that Cath was in trouble. He didn't made it to his feet before he was hit with the butt of the automatic weapon again, this time in a downward motion on top of his left shoulder. He fell backward into a small table next to the stairs, knocking the lamp and books to the floor around him. Steve managed to get to his knees once again and planted his right hand on the floor in the attempt to not fall flat on his face. Through blurry eyes, he could see drops of blood steadily dripping onto the hardwood floor.

"Who are you?" he finally managed to get out in a ragged voice.

"Not your concern," the man holding Catherine said. "Now, Pretty Lady, if you want him to keep breathing, you'll come with us, nice and quiet. The choice is yours."

"Cath! No!" Steve fought to get up.

The P-90 was turned and the barrel pushed against his head, just above his ear, the man holding the weapon smiling as he said, "Try it. I dare you."

"I repeat, the choice is yours," Catherine's handler said with a chuckle. "My friend here is just itching to pull that trigger."

"What the hell do you want?" Steve demanded.

"We've got what we want right here," the leader calmly replied, moving to stand behind Catherine. He put away his weapon and pulled a black zip tie from his pocket and quickly bound her hands. Initially she tried to fight the action until the man holding the gun against Steve's head nudged him with the barrel. She watched Steve's eyes, pleading with her not to do anything stupid.

"Don't hurt him, please. I'll—"

"Catherine, don't go-"

The intruder laughed again. "Looks like you might mean something to her," he said while pushing Catherine toward the doorway. Once they were outside, he nodded to the man who held the gun on Steve. In a quick move, the assault weapon was flipped back around and the gun butt viciously slammed into the side of his head. The force behind the blow knocked Steve sideways where he hit the floor with a dull thud.

"Steve! Stop, don't hurt him. Steve… NO!" Catherine twisted and caught a glimpse of him lying unmoving on the floor before she was pushed into a panel van, her captor jumping in behind her and slamming the door. She tried to head butt him but he used her momentum and threw her against the side of the van, where her head connected with the metal panel. She slumped down, unconscious.


yes, I know it is short. But really, that was the best place to stop it.