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Title: All I Want: Chase
Fandom: Hawaii Five-0
Pairing: Grace/OMC
Sequel/Series: Loving Series
Summary: Chase's story.


Chase's POV:

The sound of my team's chatter in my ear via my headset helps me to focus on the mission. I know some teams prefer to maintain radio silence but we've got one hell of bad-ass tech guy (girl, actually, back home) on our side and so we have a channel that no one, not even the Brass, can hack. But even so, call signs are used and everything is in our own special code; a code that not even the Old Man is privy to. Plausible deniability and all that.

The change in Moses' pitch from genial to near frantic has me instantly on alert and turning to head to his last known position. If he's as close to yelling as I've ever seen then something ain't right. And sure enough, as I round the next corner with the muzzle of my AK-47 leading the way, I discover that not only is something not right but something is downright FUBAR.

Moses is the only member of my seven (eight counting me) man team still breathing and the assholes used him to lure me away from my target.

My eyes dart around the room, cataloging every little thing while looking for a way out of this clusterfuck. I'm horribly outnumbered; there are a dozen of them and only one of me. Not too terrible odds for a SEAL but still not a situation I want to be in. Moses might be able to help; if he has enough strength to break free from the bastard holding a gun to his head.

"Put your weapon down." The voice has a very slight accent to it, not enough to place the origins of the speaker though.

I look around to see if I can figure out which one of them is the leader, because surely only the leader would order me to surrender, but all I can see are their eyes. Hard to tell where someone is from just by their eyes. "Here's a thought: why don't you have your men put their guns down and release my man there." I nod at Moses.

"We do not take kindly to being threatened in our own home." The words are uttered with absolute calm, as if we're having a casual conversation.

"Neither do we. You're the assholes who came to our shores and not only threatened us but attacked us unprovoked."

"Unprovoked!?" His laugh is rough, like he doesn't laugh often. "You Americans have been putting your nose where it doesn't belong for longer than you've been alive. We just want to live our lives in peace."

"Hey, I'm all for that, really I am, but seeing as how you used four planes full of innocent people including women and children, I don't think I can let you have your wish here today."

"What do you know about it?" Finally, a man, taller than the others, steps from the shadows. "You couldn't have been more than a child yourself when the attacks took place."

"I was seven. Certainly old enough to know that a bunch of cowards came into my home and tried to destroy it."

"Much like you did with mine."

"Funny, I was taught that we were invited in order to liberate a people who wished to overthrow a government they no longer wanted."

"I refuse to argue politics with a child." With a careless wave of one hand, he turns back the way he came and tells his men "Kill them."

My bullet enters the brain of the man holding Moses just seconds after his bullet enters Moses'. I then thumb the switch to turn my gun to full auto and begin spraying the room with bullets. I barely feel the ones that slam into my helmet and body.

Eventually my magazine is empty and I fall to the floor wishing I had had one last chance to see my home before I died.



The next time I'm aware of anything I wish I was still unconscious. I feel something pressing down on my chest (possible broken ribs), there's something in my throat, something pinching the forefinger of my left hand, and I can smell that distinctive hospital smell and hear the beeping of machines. The one thing I don't hear and really wish I did is the sound of someone quietly crying. I can, however, hear two people talking too low for me to make out their words.

I must have twitched or something and alerted them that I was more or less awake because one of them stops talking mid word. "Lieutenant?" The voice is coming closer and has an edge of worry in it. "Can you hear me, Lieutenant?" Fingers slide against the palm of my right hand. "If you can hear me, squeeze my hand." The fingers wiggle. "Lieutenant?" I try to do as requested but my fingers won't obey my brain's command and I can feel myself slipping back into the blackness of oblivion. "Lieutenant? Lieutenant?"



My parents, the two people in the world who should have been crying in my hospital room, died two years ago while I was deep in the middle of the Afghanistan desert. I didn't know they'd passed for several months and so missed their funerals. In fact, the last time I saw them was at my graduation from Annapolis.



I manage to find my parents in the sea of people after the ceremony and the instant I'm within reach my mother gathers me close in a tight hug.

"We are so proud of you, Eddie!" She's hugging me so tight she almost knocks my cover off my head.

"Good work, Son." My father shakes my hand since my mother hasn't let go of my neck. "Let the boy breathe, Amanda." Dad gently pulls Mom away and wraps his arms around my shoulders, pounding me hard on the back before stepping back. "So very proud." Are there tears in his eyes?

"Thank you." I can't keep the smile off my face.

"What are your plans now?" Mom asks, stepping in close again and twining her arm with mine.

I'm confused by her question. Back when I was a Freshman I had decided to join the SEALs and they know it. They also know that I received my acceptance yesterday morning because I told them over dinner last night. My gut is telling me that something's wrong here.

Before I can answer my mother a group of fellow graduates approaches. "Hey, Chaser, we're headed into town to see how well these new stripes work with the local lovelies. Care to join?" No one in my class calls me 'Chaser'; they all call me 'Chase' and that voice is not one I know from Annapolis. No, it's one I know from much later; or more recent depending on how you look at it.

When I turn around I see that the 'cadet' inviting me to go on a bar crawl with him is none other than Moses, the fellow SEAL I watched die just recently.

Instead of calling him out on that, I open my mouth and say, "Sorry, man. My parents are here and I don't see them enough." Which is true. They live (or rather lived) on Maui, Hawai'i and I currently reside in Annapolis, Maryland. "Next time, huh?"

"Won't be a next time, Chaser. We start our TDY on Monday. Or have you forgotten already?"

"I'm sure we'll meet up in some port or other over the years. Planet's not that big."

"Sure 'nough." He reaches out and slaps at my chest near my heart. "Stay true. See ya when I see ya."

I nod, blinking back sudden tears. "Yeah, man. Keep golden. See ya." He touches the brim of his cover before spinning on his heel and sauntering away, whistling a jaunty tune. God, I miss Moses.

"Eddie?" Mom gets my attention by touching my arm. "Come on, Dear." She and Dad begin to lead me away.

"Lieutenant?" the same voice from before calls to me. "Lieutenant, if you can hear me, open your eyes."

"Come with us, Eddie." Mom has started crying. "I've missed you so much. Please come back with us."

"We love you, Eddie." I've never seen my father cry but he's definitely crying now.

"Lieutenant Momoa, we need you to open your eyes."

"Eddie." Mom takes one of my hands in both of hers. "Please."

"Lieutenant, open your eyes."

I look back over my shoulder even though I know there isn't anyone there. Turning back to my parents I say the most difficult thing I have ever said in my life: "I'm so sorry, Mom and Dad. I love you both but you're dead. Have been for years. It's not time for me to join you just yet. I miss you both so much." I hug them tight before turning and running in the opposite direction.



Next time I 'wake' I sense that I'm alone. The tube has been removed from my throat so I guess I started breathing on my own, or the doctor decided I no longer need it for whatever reason it was put in. Everything else is the same: the pressure on my chest and finger and the beeping of machines. I try opening my eyes and instantly wish I hadn't because the light shinning in through the window nearly blinds me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I turn my head to the right and slowly open them again in time to see a nurse enter my room.

He stops short when he realizes I'm awake. "Lieutenant!" Quickening his steps he continues to my bedside and begins checking my vitals. He makes a happy noise. "How are you?"

I open my mouth to answer him but all that comes out is a croak.

He chuckles. "Sorry. Should have offered water first." He holds out a cup with a straw in it.

I lean up and take a sip, then clear my throat before trying again. "Too…bright." It amazes me how tired just saying those two words has made me.

"What?" He looks up and his eyes widen when he sees the problem. "Oh! We've taken to leaving the curtains open so you could get some sun. I'll close them now." And he puts action to words. "There. That's better." He turns back to me with a huge grin on his face. "And now to call the doctor." He presses a button and says that I'm awake. "So,-" He fluffs my pillow a bit and smoothes the covers over my legs. "-how are you feeling?"

How does he expect me to feel? "Like I just had a…uh… doz… a dozen… dozen men use me for…um… tar… uh… target…target practice." How embarrassing to forget those two words.

"Of course. Sorry. Habit, ya know?" Either he didn't notice my fumbling speech or he's choosing to ignore it.

Just then the doctor enters. If not for the confident way she walks and holds herself I'd think she was a student, she looks so young.

"Ah, Lieutenant!" She heads straight for the sink to wash her hands before bustling up to the bed. "Welcome back to the land of the living." She extends one hand for me to shake. "I'm Doctor Gupta." I can barely lift my arm to shake her hand and only manage to give it a feeble squeeze before it drops heavily back to the mattress. Gupta step to the foot of my bed and begins doing something.

"Ouch!" I say and try to jerk my foot out of her grasp.

"Excellent!" She smiles at me and repeats it on the other foot.

"Doc, I'm warning ya…" I try to glare but have a feeling I'm unsuccessful in intimidating her.

"Do you know where you are, Lieutenant?"

Of course I know where I am. What kind of stupid question is that? And then I remember that this is SOP after a severe injury. "Yeah, I'm…um…in…the…" I press my lips together when the word refuses to come.

"Don't force it, Lieutenant," Gupta says, patting my foot.

I grit my teeth and her treatment of me. I'm not a child just learning how to talk. "I'm in the place where sick people go."

"Yes, you are. What is that place called?"

That's the fucking word that won't come to me! I take a deep breath and release it slowly. "H-hos-hospital." What the fuck is wrong with me?

Gupta beams at me. "Good."

"Why do I keep having trouble…um…?" I wave my hand in a circle to indicate my difficulty speaking.

"We'll get to that after a few more tests." She places her hands against the balls of my feet. "Press down like on the gas and clutch, please." I do so but my feet don't move very much despite my 'flooring' it on the gas and 'stomping' on the clutch. "Hm. Okay, good. Mark?" She turns to the nurse. "Help me sit him up."

Mark steps over to the bed and presses a button that raises the head of the bed. He then fluffs my pillow again. "Once the doc is done, I'll get you some lunch," he says with a grin when my stomach rumbles.

Gupta raises my right arm and puts her hand on my wrist. "Don't let me lower your arm." When she presses down, my arm drops like it did when I shook her hand. "Okay. Now again." She does the same with my left. And gets the same result. "Don't worry, Lieutenant, these results are to be expected."

"Why?"

I don't miss the look between Gupta and Mark. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Oh, no. I know that tactic. "Answer my question."

"You've been here for nearly a year."

I choke on air. "A year!?"

She nods. "We almost lost you several times."

I look back and forth between Gupta and Mark. "My…uh…te-team?"

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. You were the only survivor."

I can't catch my breath as her words penetrate my mind. Moses, the team leader and surrogate father to us all. Bullfrog, the newest member of the team. Shaft, whose wife is finally pregnant with the little girl he always wanted. King, Marlboro, Cowboy, and Music Man; the final four members of the team and the only ones who knew each other before joining the team. All gone. Dead.

I close my eyes as tears spill over my lower lids to run down my face. My entire team is dead. And most likely long buried; just like my parents. Yet again I've missed the funeral of people important to me.

"Lieutenant? We really need to finish these tests."

"I'm tired. Can we do it later?"

"I suppose it can wait. I'll have Mark bring you something to eat. Please let him assist you; I really do not want to have to put the feeding tube back in."

"Yeah, okay."

The next few weeks pass in a bit of a blur and I have trouble remembering what happened the day before. Gupta says that's normal for someone with a severe TBI. She also tells me that the aphasia is just another side-effect and should get better with the therapy I have to do for the TBI (seems they're so closely related that the treatment for both is the same). But for now I keep a white board with me at all times because I may not be able to speak the proper words at times but I can usually write it down. If I can't write it then the process of writing it sometimes teases it from my memory banks.

I've been in the hospital for nearly six weeks when one of my old COs shows up. He finds me where I can be found most days: sitting in a chair in my room next to the window.

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