I'm back again with the continuing saga of Five-O in the nineties.

Here's my usual disclaimer about how all the characters that made the series so enjoyable belong to CBS. Everything else is a figment of my very overactive imagination

Got a little preachy about women veterans and veterans in general. On the average 22 veterans a day commit suicide. It's not a pretty statistic and the scary part is a lot of them are women. The original Five-O treated veterans better than any other program of the same time period. I am hoping the 'reboot' does the same.

Now for a bit of Hawaiian history. According to Hawaiian law, that is if it hasn't been changed since he passed away, the license plate that read "FIVE-O" could only belonged to Jack Lord, the original Steve McGarrett.

I mixed in a bit of fact with a lot of fiction... read and enjoy...

O-O-O-O-O

Steve lay back in the Jacuzzi, letting the hot water swirl around his aching body. He took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of eucalyptus, mint, and menthol from the bath salt Maggie had poured into the tub. The mineral concoction was suppose to help relieve muscle pain and stiffness. He felt himself relaxing as he leaned back against the bath pillow. Mission accomplished, he thought, sleepily. Mother's Helper is no longer a threat to anyone and Iolani Palace is still standing. All things considered, the outcome could have been a lot worse.

John Manicote and Duke Lukela were both recovering from gunshot wounds. Duke would probably be home from the hospital by the end of the week. John Manicote would be in a while longer, but was well on the road to recovery. The only dark spot was the death of HPD Sergeant Keokie Aliki, shot down in cold blood by Cord McKenzie. Aliki had been the first officer to sight the van McKenzie had turned into a truck bomb and had called in a description as well as the plate numbers. He had died a hero's death in the line of duty.

He heard the door open and the silky sound of Maggie's bathrobe sliding to the floor.

"Want some company?" she asked.

"Of my favorite naked lady? Get in here," he said as she got into the tub beside him. The Jacuzzi, he decided, was turning into the best investment he'd ever made. She leaned back against him as his hands reached up to cup her breasts.

"You took the bandages off," she said.

"If I had left them on they would have gotten soggy," he said.

"I suppose," she said as he kissed the top of her head. "Got a minute to talk about something serious?"

"Sure," he said, nibbling her neck. Whatever was in the mineral bath was doing more than quieting the aches and pains from the afternoon's excitement. Note to self, he thought, no more stopping truck bombs. You are getting too old for this.

"I had a meeting with the Colonel," she said. "Before this afternoon's fireworks. I'm filing for medical retirement. If all goes as planned, I will be officially retired from the Army by the end of February."

He didn't say anything. He just held her. When he finally spoke, he was having a hard time concealing his emotions. "I think that would be the best news I've heard in a very long time." He closed his eyes as his arms tightened around her. "Baby, you have no idea what a relief that will be. Are you sure this is what you want?"

She loved the way his hands felt on her skin. He was making it hard to focus. "Yes, this is what I want. I'll retire eight months early and with the words 'medical retirement' stamped on my 214, I won't ever have to worry about being recalled for active duty."

She felt his arms tighten around her, holding her as close as he could. "My worse nightmare is you being sent to god only knows where because that jumped up excuse for an Arkansas hillbilly decides to bomb some third world country no one has ever heard of to divert attention from getting caught with another intern. I'm keeping my fingers crossed and hoping he can keep it in his pants until you are officially retired." McGarrett didn't like politics. He had a bad habit of speaking his mind and could never understand the mindset of covering up unacceptable behavior, especially since it would have been easier to do what was right. Whatever happened to morals, he thought. The man's the president and should have known better. He tried to imagine himself in the same situation but couldn't. It all came down to one indisputable fact; he loved his wife too much to ever hurt her.

She turned to face him, placing her hands on his shoulders, looking up at him, eyes unfocused without her glasses. "Think you can put up with having me underfoot until I can find a job?"

"Now it's my turn to be serious," he said. "Who says you have to get a job? In fact, I would rather you didn't. I know that's an old fashioned and archaic idea that went by the wayside years ago, but I don't care. I like the idea of you waiting for me when I get home. I suppose that comes from too many years of coming home to an empty house."

"Your sister warned me about you," she said, smiling. "She said that as soon as I retired you were going to want me to be a stay-at-home wife. You know, I never got to do that before. There's a lot of stuff I never got to do that I never even knew I was missing. Susan said the same thing a few days ago. She said that life very seldom gives you a do over. She says she got one and she's not going to let it go to waste. I got one, too, only I didn't realize it until this morning when I was getting dressed for work."

"That you got a do over?" he asked. "I think both of us got one. Nothing like nearly getting blown to bits to make you appreciate what you have." He tilted her chin back and kissed her, long and slowly and deeply. When they at last broke apart, he smiled down at her. "You know how my sister says I never go off duty?"

"I remember. She also said you were a born worrier, overprotective, and that you were still living by the cadet honor code from Annapolis and that's just a few of the reasons that I love you so much." She gently slid her palms down his chest. She heard the quick intake of his breath as she wrapped her fingers around him.

"Keep that up, baby, you've got my attention. What I was trying to say, is that while you were in the hospital I read your journals. I found the note that said it was okay to read them and I did. Then I found the box with the stories." He was having a hard time thinking coherently. "What I'm trying to say is you don't have to go back to work. Stay home and write."

"You read my journals? All of them? Even the last one?" she said, pulling away from him and feeling the panic surging through her.

"Yes, even that one. I read that one first. You had left a pile of them on the dining room table and that one was at the top. I found the note and I read the journal. I don't frighten easily, but that one scared me, more than you will ever know. I talked to Susan and she filled in a few of the blanks for me. You are not allowed to ever get that depressed again. You had too many bad things happen too quickly. I have no idea how you handled it as well as you did."

"I don't think I did a very good job of handling anything," she said quietly. "I could function at work because the Army has rules and if you do your job properly, they don't bother you, especially when you're wearing a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star. I was a mess and I wanted to die, anything to take away the pain. Only I got a wake up call instead of visit from the Grim Reaper," she looked up at him, her dark green eyes filling with tears. "I'm better now. I'm not sad any more, or at least not like I was. I still have the occasional bad day. I think everyone does, and I have learned that with veterans, that can be dangerous. On the average, everyday, 22 veterans commit suicide. Every day, Steve, and a lot of them are women. The suicide rate for women veterans is six percent higher than the national average. I was almost one of them, only I got lucky. In more ways than one. Women veterans have a fifty percent greater chance of being involved in an abusive relationship than women who never served. I thought I would never fall in love again, much less marry again. But I found you. That was all I really needed."

She looked up at him and gave him a weary smile. "I'm sorry, I'm sounding like a statistician. I have been doing research for an article about what women can expect once they leave the military. Sometimes it's not a pretty picture and the VA isn't being much help because most VA hospitals and clinics still aren't set up for women vets. It's the same with most military hospitals. They have no idea what to do with us. I'm sorry, sweetie, I'm babbling again."

"Babble all you want," he said. "For the first time you are telling me what's bothering you and that's the only way I'll ever know. You have to tell me things. You didn't tell me about Lydia until after we were engaged. You never talk about Michael, or the War. You have to tell me what's going on inside that beautifully brilliant mind of yours, or when you get depressed, or anxious, or afraid. You're living with a lot of bad memories, pain, and that damned PTSD. I can't help you get through any of that if you don't let me know what's going on." He held her tighter, as if he were afraid she'd vanish if he let go.

She was silent for a moment, resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "It's hard, sometimes, to talk about the bad things. I started keeping the journals when I enlisted. I don't know why, just thought it might make a good story. Parts of it are funny, parts of it are intense, some are downright scary, and some of it's a goddamned Greek tragedy. It was easier to write about it than to talk about it. So that's what I did. Micheal never read my journals, just the stories. I think maybe there was a lot I should have told him that I didn't and it's too late now. I don't want that to ever happen to us."

"It won't, baby. If there's something you just can't talk about, write it down and I'll read it. I know I should have asked before I read the rest of the journals and that what I did was an invasion of privacy, and I hope that you'll forgive me, but I had to know what made you, well, you. I learned a lot from the journals and from the stories. Now it's time to share them with the rest of the world."

"You mean that?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. "There are times when you are the most exasperating woman I've ever met and I love you dearly. So how about it? You stay home and write, and I'll go to work, and in six years when I retire, we spend the rest of out lives horrifying the neighbors by making love at all hours of the day and night, all over the house, and the yard, and on the beach."

"That's the best offer I've heard since you asked me to marry you," she said smiling. "Okay, Big Guy, if that's what you want, that's what you're going to get, one stay at home writer in residence." She pulled his head down to kiss him. "Let's get out of this tub and into bed."

"Now that's the best offer I've had all day." he said, smiling. He got out of the tub, wrapped a towel around his waist and held one out for her. He wrapped her in the soft cotton and pulled her into his arms.

OOOOO

Maggie's internal alarm, conditioned by almost twenty years of military service, went off at 0430. She got out of bed quietly, leaving Steve sleeping soundly, pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt and headed down to the beach to watch the sun rise. The beach was always peaceful at this early hour. She rolled up her pants legs and waded to the water's edge, letting the surf wash over her feet.

He doesn't want me to work, she thought to herself, he wants me to stay home and write. I can do that, or at least give it a try. She watched the sun come up as the tide came in. She glanced at her watch and started back up the path to the house. It was just after five, and she knew that Charlie Swanson and his construction crew would be there at seven. So much for sleeping in. At least they would have time to have breakfast together, an event that rarely happened midweek. She put the tea kettle on to boil, took eggs and bacon out of the fridge, started preparing breakfast, humming to herself. I think I could get use to this. She switched on the small TV on the counter to watch the morning news while she cooked.

Steve came into the kitchen just as she was taking the bacon out of the pan. "Something smells good," he said, embracing her from behind and kissing her neck.

"You're suppose to be sleeping," she said. "I was going to bring you breakfast in bed. I turned on the morning news and everyone is still talking about the explosion at the palace. Meyers from channel nine is calling you a hero, and a hero deserves breakfast in bed."

"Meyers called me a hero?" Steve asked incredulously. "That's a switch. What he usually calls me never makes it past the network censors."

"Well, you did save an important historical Hawaiian landmark from destruction," she said, giggling at the look on Steve's face. "Hey, he said that, not me. I'm just quoting. They also had a clip of Danny giving the press conference at the hospital. He gave most of the credit for discovering the 'dastardly plot' to Pacita Mendoza's computer skills and Chin's ability to do on the spot analysis. And of course he said you were being your usual heroic self."

"Danny called it a dastardly plot?" Steve asked with a raised eyebrow. He turned on the coffee pot he couldn't remember setting up the night before. I must have really been out of it. He tried to stretch the kinks out of his spine. It felt as if every bone and muscle in his body were queuing up to see which one could be the most painful.

Maggie poured him a glass of orange juice and gave him the blood pressure medicine and one of the pain pills Doc had prescribed. He was too sore to argue about the pain medication.

"No, Meyers did. That man never met an adverb he didn't like. Sit," she said, as he swallowed both pills. "Breakfast is ready." She gave him a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast, and put a platter of fresh fruit on the table. She sat across from him and smiled. "Just like an old married couple."

"We are an old married couple," he said. "or at least I'm feeling the old part. Doc wasn't kidding when he told me I was going to be hurting this morning."

Maggie was spreading strawberry jam on her toast. "Next time leave the heroics to someone younger."

"There wasn't time," he said. "We were out of time and options. That's when you do what has to be done and hope like hell it works."

"Don't do it again," she said, suddenly serious. "I've gotten use to having you around."

"You don't have to worry on that score, baby," Steve said. "McKenzie and his crew are officially out of business."

"Yes," she said. "For now. But what about the next McKenzie, or the one after that?"

"If I can, I'll save the heroics for the younger men." He paused for a moment, watching the woman who sat across the table, wondering, not for the first time, how he had managed to live without her for so long. "I already told the governor he's got me until I'm sixty and not one day after. Then I'm going to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Which brings me to a question I asked you the day you got out of the hospital and I know you've been brooding about since. Do you want to adopt a child?"

She looked back at him, her big green eyes suddenly sparkling with unshed tears. "You know I do, but only if you want to. Do you think we'll be up to chasing a little one around the house? We both have to admit that neither of us is getting any younger."

"If Duke can, so can I." Steve said, smiling. "He's only four years younger than I am, and I know you're younger than Susan. If you want, I'll start making calls and setting up appointments today."

"You mean that?" she asked, eyes wide with wonder and soft with love.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't. You can be a full time stay-at-home mom who is going to be Hawaii's most famous writer," he said, smiling.

"I don't know about being a famous writer, but I like the stay-at-home mom part."

"Then it's settled. I'll make the calls as soon as I get back to the office and get the numbers."

"You mean when Jenny finds the numbers and gets them on the line," she said. Suddenly she became very serious. "Steve, I want to give Susan and Duke the nursery furniture in the garage. They haven't had a chance to shop for baby furniture yet. With their wedding and all the medical testing, and now with Duke getting hurt, it looks like it'll be a while before they can. And we have to face the fact that it could be a long time before we get a child."

He reached across the table to take her hand. "Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked. Maggie and her late husband had brought the furniture in anticipation of a child that never came home from the hospital.

"Yes," she said. "We can always buy more when the time comes," mentally adding, if it ever does. She had spent hours researching adoption agencies only to find that all of them had waiting lists and that even if they wanted an older child, there was still a wait. "That furniture has crossed two oceans and its never been out of the boxes. It's time to put it to some use."

"I'll call Eddie and have him pick it up this weekend. I don't think Duke is going to be doing any heavy lifting for a while."

"I'm glad he was wearing that vest, that's for sure," Maggie said. "And that you had yours on. I don't even want to think about the alternative." She shuddered involuntarily.

"Finish your breakfast," he said. "I'm going to hobble off to the shower." He gave her a wicked grin. "Want to join me? You can massage my aching muscles."

"You'd better make it a cold shower. I still have to be at work by nine."

When she joined him a few minutes later he discovered his muscles weren't that achy after all.