Author's Note - Hello Ex-Factor fans and new readers! I know that it has been awhile but this story idea came into my head recently and I just had to get it out! For any new readers out there, this is a follow up to my fic The Ex-Factor. The main character in this little number (Steve's wife Harper) was introduced in that story. If you want to go back and read it, settle in because it's a long one! This fic, on the other hand, is just a one shot about the difficulties of mixing career and marriage.

The idea came to me while watching the latest episode of Graceland on TNT. In fact, I borrowed some dialog from the show and am giving credit to the writer's here and now. I hope you enjoy this peek into Harper and Steve's life at Five-O...

His Kryptonite by Beccabo

"You are my kryptonite, you take my powers away. And if I spend the night, you'll probably drive me insane." ~ Jazmine Sullivan

"That was my shot!"

Commander Steve McGarrett knew the heated comment was directed at him but he decided to ignore it…for the moment. Shoving their suspect, Bret Oleole, toward one of the uniformed officers standing nearby, he barked, "Take him down to interrogation." After watching the scumbag walk away, the leader of Five-0 turned his attention toward his wife and asked, "Do you have a problem, Detective?"

"You took my shot," Harper James McGarrett repeated in an icy voice which was in total contrast to the anger radiating from her. "I had him in my sights and then you made your move without..."

"My move," he repeated forcefully, "saved that child's life. The hostage taker was taken out, we have his accomplice in custody, the hostage was not hurt…mission accomplished." Narrowing his eyes at her, he drawled, "Now let's check your ego at the door so we can get in there and interrogate this son of a bit-"

He knew the moment the words were out of his mouth he would live to regret them.

"This is not about my ego!"

"Really?" he shot back.

"Really."

Steve was so not in the mood for this. Running his hands through his hair, he asked angrily, "So…what? Are you going to make me guess? What is this about?"

"You didn't trust me to take that shot," the redhead replied, reaching around to begin taking off her Kevlar vest.

"That's ridiculous."

"You didn't even…"

"If you had taken that shot," Steve interrupted, his anger growing by the second, "you would have alerted his men as to your location and they would have taken you out. I was protecting you."

"I didn't need for you to protect me!" Harper replied furiously, frustrated by her inability to remove her vest and yell at her husband at the same time. Ripping at the Velcro, she glared up at him and hissed, "I needed you to trust me! For once in your God damned life Steven, you should have trusted me!"

Finally free of the vest, she flung it at him and darted off down the hall. In her anger and haste, she practically knocked over Detective Chin Ho Kelly as he was stepping off the elevator.

Looking confused, Chin asked, "What's up with Harper?"

"She's pissed at me," Steve growled, taking his wife's discarded vest and handing it to the equipment clerk who was waiting nearby and pretending he hadn't heard anything. "I guess you and I are handling the interrogation."

"What'd you do?" Detective Kelly asked, falling into step with his boss as he tried his best to suppress a grin.

"As usual," the Commander replied sharply, "I have no idea."

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The interview of Bret Oleole was not going well. The creep was far too cocky and arrogant for someone who was about to spend the rest of his life behind bars. Steve and Chin knew it. Kono and Danny, watching on monitors outside the interview room, knew it. The only member of the team who didn't know it was Harper.

Which would explain why she chose the most inopportune moment to walk in with the ballistics report.

Without looking at her husband, Harper handed the report to Chin and whispered the pertinent information in his ear. Detective Kelly's face didn't give it away, but he could tell that she had uncovered something important. She usually did. She was one hell of a cop.

Which made everything else about her so damn infuriating.

"Who was that?" Oleole asked, staring at the door where Harper had exited like a dog in heat.

"We're asking the questions here," Steve reminded him as Chin walked over with the ballistics report and pointed out Harper's findings.

Damn her, he thought as he shook his head at the evidence. She really was the best around.

"Is she a cop?" Oleole asked again, completely unaware of what was about to happen to him. "No way she's a cop, man. Cops don't look like that…except in Hollywood. And this ain't Hollywood."

"Focus now, Bret," the former SEAL warned, beginning to pace in a circle around the suspects' chair, "because you are going to want to think very hard about your answer to our next question. It could be the difference between life and death…"

But Bret Oleole was too arrogant to realize that he was in trouble and he continued, "Damn, she's a cop. I mean, please tell me one of you guys has gotten a piece of that, because man, what I wouldn't give for five minutes alone…"

"Shut up!"

"Hawaii's a great place for beautiful women and all, but your girl there is a redhead, you know? Redheads are so much fun. They're so fiery. Do you know if she's single? I bet she could just—"

Oleole never got to finish the sentence. As he made his circle around the room, Steve had stopped directly behind Oleole and in one swift movement kicked the criminal's chair out from under him. Without ever knowing what hit him, Bret Oleole suddenly found himself on his back with Commander Steve McGarrett's boot at his throat. When McGarrett finally spoke, his voice was little more than a low growl.

"I suggest you stick with answering the questions we're asking you. Now, tell us about the guns we found in your car…"

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"What the hell was that?"

Steve was really sick of people hurling accusatory questions at him like he was supposed to know what they were talking about. Turning abruptly to face his partner, he pasted a dumbfounded look on his face and asked, "What the hell was what?"

"We have seen men react to seeing your wife before," Detective Danny Williams informed him as he ran to keep up with the pace of Steve's long strides. "We have been dealing with it since she came to Hawaii. This is not a new thing…"

"I assume you have a point?"

"I was just wondering why we picked today to start stepping on people's necks?"

The Commander knew he has crossed the line and didn't care, so he answered nonchalantly, "I didn't like his attitude."

"He helped kidnap a child and held her at gunpoint!" His partner reminded him, "We went in there knowing we weren't going to like anything about him…especially his attitude."

"What do you want from me?"

"Look, I don't know what the problem is between the two of you," Danny began, pulling on his partner's arm and forcing him to come to a complete stop, "but it's gotta stop. The two of you promised the Governor that none of this crap would happen at work. So you've got until the close of business today to shut up, make up, or file for divorce. Again."

The detective watched in silence as a dark shadow crossed Steve's face, his normal calm and control melting into thinly restrained fury. His voice was quiet when he spoke but Danny could see the tension building in his neck and shoulders.

"Or what?"

"Or Chin, Kono, and I will lock the two of you in a room and set it on fire."

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Two hours later…

Steve didn't even glance up from his paperwork when his partner cautiously stepped into his office. Instead he simply asked, "Are you here to set my office on fire?"

Ignoring the sarcasm, the New Jersey detective settled himself into one of the chairs across from Steve's desk and replied, "I notice you haven't worked things out with your wife."

"What I do or don't do with my wife is none of your business," was the tight reply.

"Normally, that is true," Danny agreed, taking a deep breath, "but…"

"But?"

"But this is not about the usually happily married Mr. and Mrs. McGarrett," the detective told him pointedly, "This is about Commander McGarrett and Detective Harper James McGarrett." When his partner didn't answer, Danny continued, "We knew the lines were going to get blurry every once in awhile and for the most part you two have managed to keep it professional at the office. But today…"

"Today was just a bad day," Steve interrupted, finally looking up from his file. "When it involves kids, Jimmy gets overly emotional. She just needs some time to settle down."

"Yes," Danny agreed, "all of that is true. But that is not what happened today."

"Well enlighten me, Danno." McGarrett replied, instantly sensing that he was not going to like the answer to his next question but asked it anyway. "What, in your opinion, happened today?"

"Ever heard of quarterback syndrome?"

"Can't say that I have," Steve replied, leaning back in his chair and preparing himself for whatever was to come.

Meeting his boss' dark gaze, Danny informed him, "You don't think any of us can win unless you are leading the charge. And your wife is the only one of us with enough balls to say it out loud."

Instead of reacting instinctively, McGarrett took a moment to let his partner's words sink in. Finally, he shrugged and answered, "Tom Brady has quarterback syndrome. He also has 3 championship rings."

"Yeah, Eli's got 2 and he's four years younger," the detective from New Jersey shot back with a shake of his head, "You Patriots fans make me sick."

Steve bit back a grin and then asked, "You were making a point?"

"That was Harper's shot," Danny replied matter of factly, "It made the most sense for her to take it so that we could move in and get the girl if anything went wrong. You know that."

He did know that. But hearing it out loud didn't help soothe his ego any. Instead of answering his smug partner, Steve reached over to the fridge behind his desk, pulled out a couple of Kona Lagers, and tossed one across his desk. Danny grinned as the pair settled into silence so they could drink their beer.

Steve McGarrett knew he was in trouble the moment he'd first laid eyes on Harper James. And trouble had definitely followed. But ever since they had remarried on the shores of Oahu the previous spring, she had become all that he could believe in. He believed in the scent of her hair, the taste of her skin, the fire in her eyes. After a life of service and solitude, his wife grounded him. All she had to do was lay beside him, her fingers laced with his. She didn't have to ask what was wrong. She never wanted or needed to know.

After he allowed the last taste of his ale to settle in, he looked at his partner and admitted, "From the minute I met her, that woman has been my kryptonite."

Danny swallowed his last swig of beer and answered, "The best ones usually are." Swinging his legs down from where they had rested on his partner's desk and standing up, he checked his watch as he reminded, "You have 5 minutes before I set your office on fire."

"Too late," Steve admitted with a sigh, glancing out the window just in time to see his wife's car peeling out of the parking lot.

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An hour later…

Harper wandered out of the bathroom of the McGarrett home clad only in a fluffy towel. Her face was flushed from the heat of her bath, her hair was stuck to the back of her neck...and Steve went weak in the knees.

Still. After all this time.

Their eyes connected across the room and she immediately closed the distance between them with only a few steps. He dropped his head down to rest against hers, his eyes glazed and vacant as an unwinnable battle raged in his mind. Her eyes fell shut and her free hand drifted up to rest at the back of his neck, fingers grazing lightly up and down as she waited out the storm. Steve's hands moved from resting at her waist to wrapping his arms completely around her and drawing her close. She could see the strain of the muscles in his arms as they tightened the embrace. Harper turned her head slightly, bringing her mouth next to his ear. As she whispered words of apology and comfort, Harper gradually felt the anger seep out of him as the storm of raw emotion calmed to a shower of resigned regret.

An hour later the couple laid in bed in silence and nothing else needed to be said. His hands were flat on her back, her red hair tickled Steve's nose, and her shallow breath was warm on his neck. He ran his fingers through her hair as Harper's eyes closed and she leaned into his touch. He pressed a kiss behind her ear and another just below it, his teeth gently scraping her earlobe. He gently turned her face up to his and saw that her eyes were wet with tears. The last thing he wanted was for her to cry. Steve tenderly took hold of her face and began to kiss them away.

"I have always trusted you," he whispered between kisses, which caused a fresh batch of tears to begin flowing down her flushed cheeks. He held her close, as possessed by her as she by him and they basked in the light between them, the sheets discarded on the floor. Harper's head dropped to rest against his muscular chest, her fingers playing across his taut stomach.

It was in moments like this that Steve definitely felt like Superman. And Harper James McGarrett was the only kryptonite he would ever need.