Chapter 1:

Steve McGarrett flashed open his eyes to stare at his ceiling. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving, and heart pounding in his throat. He was lying on his back on his bed, his arms stretched above his head. Sweat had been dabbed lightly on his face and across his bare chest.

5 years, 7 months, 9 days…

The same damn nightmare, every night. About that time, in Afghanistan. But he was in his house, in Hawaii, not in Afghanistan. It was still dark, except for the moonlight that shone through his window.

Steve inhaled deeply as he closed his eyes as he felt the familiar tension of fear close around him. He turned to his side, pulling his knees close to his chest and arms in tight around him, in a fetal like position. He felt a tear find its way down his cheek.

He was home.

Everything is going to be alright.

He inhaled deeply once more, trying to calm himself with the smell that made him feel at ease. The smell of home. He wiped his face free from the sweat and tears. He tried to shake himself from the fears that haunted him daily.

Steve had only been home for roughly 3 years. 3 long, crazy ass years of coming trying to terms with his past in the service, with both of his parents being gone from his life, clearing the house of their things and remodeling the rooms, you know, paint, new furniture, stuff that helps him forget. Forget the hard times.

Even with the hard times, the good times were still there. The time Steve's sister broke her arm running and tripping down the stairs, the time Steve skinned his knees in the driveway, the time Steve, his sister and their father stayed up all night playing the board game The Settlers of Catan and had pancakes the next morning.

Yes, Steve loved the house and the memories. When they didn't disappear to be replaced by Afghanistan, in flashbacks.

He huffed out a laugh through his tears at the silliness of the situation. Him, of all people, feeling anxiety and fear over stupid dreams and temporary flashbacks. He shook himself away from the tears and fears he felt and looked to his left and picked up his phone on the bedside table. 5:50 a.m. Ten minutes till the alarm sounds.

Might as well get up.

Steve wiped his face once more and threw his covers off his half bare body and pulled himself up in one swift movement. He sat on the side of the bed for a second, running a hand through his hair and putting his face in his hands. He thought about what needed to be done today. Laundry needed to be done, he needed to go to the grocery store to grab some things, finish painting the guest room, oh, and of course, work.

Steve stood up. Hopefully, work would stay quiet today, just with paperwork and filing cases away. He sighed.

For now, he needed to start his daily routines of making the bed, working out, eating breakfast, showering and heading off to work. Steve made his bed and went into the bathroom. He stood at the sink and opened a drawer and pulled out his toothbrush and toothpaste. Steve knows he lives alone but no reason to be a slob. Or at least an ordinary person. Yeah, okay, old habits die hard. Everything he owns has a place, just like how everything in the Navy had a place.

He prepped his toothbrush and scrubbed his teeth clean from "the fuzzies" he woke up with. He looked at himself in the mirror. He didn't know how he felt about the image he saw. Sure, he looked good. He wasn't conceited, he just knew he looked good. Even though dark circles clouded underneath his eyes and his face was a little pale, his chiseled facial features magnified in any light. He was strong, muscular, and ripped. Abs showed on his tanned stomach, biceps and deltoids thickset, as were the muscles in his legs and further down his arms. Steve was grateful for the SEAL's. They helped him get this great body. But even though they helped him get it, he knew he had to continue to take care of it.

He spit into his sink, rinsed his mouth, and his toothbrush and put it into the drawer along with the toothpaste. He went back into his room and grabbed his workout clothes. He dressed into them and pulled on his tennis shoes. He went downstairs, drank a glass of water and walked outside. He did some stretches, placed his earbuds in his ears, turned on his music player on his Ipod and set out for his usual morning run.

About 45 minutes later, once he was out in his back yard, Steve had taken his shirt off and was doing stations. Push ups, suicides across the yard, sit ups, lunges, and pull ups at the bar he put up when he got home from being over seas.

Steve wasn't sure why he felt the need to continue with the workouts. Maybe it was because of his job. Being a cop required a lot of physical activity, but not as much as people would think. His fellow co workers didn't work out as much as he did and they were able to keep up their stamina and do well with their jobs. Maybe it was a way to feel like he was in control, when his life was so out of control. Or maybe it was just an excuse to escape the nightmares that terrorized him every night.

Steve finished his last station, and walked to the shore that lapped onto the sand in his backyard. He pulled off his shoes and socks and stepped into the Pacific waters surrounding the beautiful islands of Hawaii. He stepped further into the ocean, allowing it to envelop him, like a blanket. When he was waist deep in the water and couldn't handle his delight of being in the water again, he took in a deep breath and dove underneath the surface. The turquoise and cyan waters engulfed him with a calmness as he glided gracefully through the water below the serene waves.

Steve pushed himself to the surface and wiped the water away from his eyes. He opened them and saw his parens home, and behind it, the sun peeked out from behind the mountains.

This was home.

Everything was going to be alright.