Author's note:- I'm back writing after a long absence, and I'm trying to pick up the threads of all of the stories I was working on but in the meantime to get myself back into writing I'm having to go with the things that have caught my imagination recently, hence this story.

Déjà vu all over again

Disclaimer: - This is a piece of fanfiction written as an homage to a show that I love. No copyright infringement is intended, just a borrowing of interesting characters and situations for entertainment purposes in the hope that nobody minds.

Synopsis: Steve has been through something that no-one should have to go through once. He survived but can he take it a second time around?

Set season 1 pre-season finale. Spoilers for the pilot.

Chapter 1

"Steve McGarrett and 5-0 have taken down everyone they've gone after since the Governor set up the task force." Sheldon rubbed his hands together before starting to fidget uncomfortably with his dress ring. "It's like being the target of the goddam Terminator. Once he has you in his sights there's no stopping him."

Hughes was tempted to point out that the Terminator had in fact been stopped in 3 films, 2 television series and at least one theme park extravaganza, but he didn't think that it would improve Sheldon's mood any, besides the man paid him too much to accept any form of sarcasm, however warrented it may be. So instead he brushed a non-existent mark from the leg of his expensive suit, uncrossed his legs and leaned slightly forward. "What if I told you I had a way to get him off your back?"

Sheldon shook his head "Ordering a hit on law enforcement officers is special circumstances. That's the death penalty, and that's a step further than I'm prepared to risk." He shifted in his seat. "I'd rather take my chances that they won't put things together in time. I only need a few more days and then I'll be out of here for good."

"And what if they do?"

Sheldon stared for a moment, clearly uncomfortable at the thought, but before he had a chance to reply Hughes continued, "I don't think you need to take that risk. The plan I have doesn't involve killing anyone," Hughes paused looking at Sheldon for permission to continue. He had learnt long ago that it was always best to allow men like him to at least think they were in control.

"I'm listening." Sheldon supplied. If he was aware he was being played, he didn't show it.

"I've been doing some research of my own" Hughes stated, "and I'm fairly sure I know how to take McGarrett and his team out. You just have to know the right buttons to push. If it's done right McGarrett and his team will simply fall apart."

Sheldon studied him for a few moments. "You really think that you can pull that off?"

Hughes nodded. "Despite his reputation Mc Garrett's human like the rest of us and that means he has weaknesses, weaknesses that if you know what you're doing you can exploit."

"Something tells me that I don't want to know the details."

"Probably not, "Hughes confirmed.

"And you're not planning on killing anyone."

"Not planning on it and if I do it won't come back to you. I'll make sure of that."

Sheldon stared for a few moments, clearly thinking things through. "Ok," he said finally.

"So I have your permission to go ahead." Hughes clarified.

Sheldon nodded. "You have my permission."

Hughes allowed himself a small victory smile, he had what he wanted, a chance to take down Lieutenant Commander Stephen McGarrett with all of Sheldon's considerable resources at his disposal. "Thank you Sir." He said sincerely.

50*50*50

McGarrett stared at the armoured troop carrier, trying hard to suppress the memories that it evoked, the last time he'd been inside one it had been blown out from under him in an ambush, orchestrated by the man who shortly thereafter blew his father's brains out, and that wasn't a set of memories he'd choose to evoke, ever.

If he'd had the choice he would've just turned heel jumped back into his truck and driven away at high speed; Hell if he'd had the choice he wouldn't have gotten out in the first place, let alone started walking towards a vehicle that could trigger a physiological response as strong as the one he was experiencing now, the nausea was barely under control, the churning in his gut, the cold sweat all powerful reminders that he did not want to be here, doing what he was doing.

Whoever had chosen this location had chosen perfectly, it was so damn close to the way he remembered, the terrain, the convoy, detail perfect; the only thing missing, a seal team and an escort of MPs. So if Steve had had the choice he would've turned tail and got the Hell out of there, because this couldn't have said set up more clearly if it had had a neon sign. This was meant to mess with his head and the problem was that it was succeeding, so if he'd had any choice, any damn choice at all. . .

He didn't.

He swallowed hard and took another step forward, focusing on the ground again; it was the only way he'd made it this far, focusing on the ground, one step at a time.

Damn! It was a good job he hadn't stayed in the seals; no way he would have lived this reaction down. He forced himself to take another scan of his surroundings, this was a set up but that didn't mean he had to make things easy for them, whoever they were. In fact he intended to do everything in his power to make this as difficult as possible for everyone involved, they were going to regret ever having messed with him or with the people he loved; with that thought came strength, Steve's resolve and determination reasserted themselves. Not that any onlookers would have noticed them missing, the outward signs of his inner turmoil were at best fleeting, a haunted look, deep in expressive eyes, a tight swallow, and then, as now, he would lock it down and get on with what needed to be done.

His scan of the immediate vicinity once again found nothing, well nothing except the damn clear reminder of the day he'd failed to keep his father alive. So he kept his gun pointed forward and down, his hands forming a v shape, raised slightly from hanging down vertically. He tensed for a moment, ready to react to the slightest sign.

There was nothing so he dropped his gaze to the ground again and kept moving until he was within a dozen feet of the door was open, its thick armour plate and interior padding clearly visible, the dark interior was a little more tricky, from this distance the brightness of the sunlight precluded seeing anything within the dark cabin, after all the vehicle had been deliberately designed to keep what was on the outside outside and that seemed to include light. So the only way he was going to get any idea of what was waiting for him on the inside was to go in.

Steve gave another small swallow, raising his gun and scanning the vehicle again. He had no choice but to move forward and delaying the move held no tactical advantage, whoever had set this up, left this here, knew that he was coming and if they were waiting inside to ambush him. . .

Steve made his next moves quick and skillful sprinting forwards and flattening against the side of the troop carrier; it allowed him to get a partial view inside; he wasn't surprised when that view yielded nothing. He leant back again, using the solid support behind him as a prop for just a moment; closing his eyes he drew in a deep breath, a muscle along his jawline twitching in response to the twin stimuli of tension and adrenaline. It was a fleeting moment of stillness and then his eyes opened and he exploded forward round and up, gun and eyes sweeping the interior cabin efficiently even as he established his new defensive stance.

Nothing!

Nothing but empty seats,For a moment he wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed, because at least if there had been someone there, then at least he would have someone or something to fight, someone to be the focus for his anger and frustration. The Lt. Commander dropped back into a state of preternatural stillness, broken only by the rise and fall of his chest, as lungs desperately sucked in oxygen to supply overtense muscles, but even that had a deceptive calm and control about it. It was a good physical analogy of his emotions, outer calm masking inner turmoil.

He stood silently scanning; his weapon lowered, and allowed his brain to catch up with instinct and action.

He should have known the cabin of the vehicle would be empty; no-one would set up a trap this elaborate and then just shoot him. No, this was cold, calculating, deliberate, meant to keep him on edge, throw him off his game and he couldn't afford. . .not with . . .

Damn, he closed his eyes again shaking his head briefly as he once again shoved the emotion deep. This was not the time or the place, he'd deal later, better yet he'd deal never, yeah, never dealing with this particular set of emotions, ever, seemed like a much better option. If only it were that easy.

He was moving forward even as his eyes reopened. He needed to look for the next step, find out why he had been brought here. What the hell could these people. . .?

His phone rang.

It made him jump, his already elevated heart-rate taking another spike. He was supposed to be ready for anything but somehow the familiar tone was startling, just like last time.

"You'd better answer that." Steve whirled round scanning the empty cabin for the source of the voice "You don't talk to your partner nearly enough."

There was still no-one there, his mind spiraled him back in time to a day nearly a year ago now, the words were so close even the accent was. . . Had he just heard that, was he hallucinating? remembering? He sank down onto the seat, gun lowering. What the Hell. . .?

The phone was still ringing its insistent tones drawing back his attention. He pulled it out, and looked down at the caller ID, knowing what he would see even before he looked.

No he couldn't do this again, not like this.

These bastards were repeating everything exactly as. . .which meant. . . He looked at the screen and sure enough a single name was displayed there-

DANNY.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .