Catherine made her way across the lanai as laughter drifted all around her. She gathered a few empty beer bottles and napkins as she headed into the back of the house.
There was the familiar clinking of glass as she placed the bottles into the recycle bin before she disposed of the napkins and other trash in the regular can under the sink.
Catherine wrapped her arms around herself as she stared out the back window. The sun was just beginning to sink low across the edge of the horizon, setting off brilliant hues of pink and blue. As she glanced upward, Catherine could just make out the twinkling of a few stars against the blotchy sky.
Another round of laughter drifted into the house and Catherine turned her attention back towards the lanai. All of 5-0 was gathered in a makeshift circle of lounge chairs. She eyed the empty one next to Steve, who seemed completely oblivious to her disappearance.
The group was all smiles. Danny and Kono were swatting at each other playfully and Chin was shaking his head as he laughed. Steve wore a brilliant smile as he Lou raised their beers in a mock salute.
They were a team. No, they were more than that, they were ohana. They were 5-0.
And Catherine, she was what exactly? Not a part of team that was for sure. She missed that closeness, that feeling of support. She had lost that security when she left the Navy, but had quickly found her footing with the very team she was now on the outside of.
Another round of laughter erupted and Catherine subconsciously slid her arms around her middle, just above her pregnant belly. She hugged herself tight as she started to gnaw on her bottom lip.
It was ridiculous, she kept reminding herself. There was no reason to feel so left out, so out of touch with her friends and family. Because that's what they were, right? They were all her friends and by extension, her family, her ohana. Nothing about that was any different than before, was it?
Catherine shook her head and busied herself in the kitchen, worrying over the marinating chicken breasts and large shrimp that were laid out on platters. She sprinkled on a little more seasoning and sliced a couple of lemons to squeeze the juice out of.
As she stood there with a used lemon wedge in her hand, she stopped. What was she doing? Was this what her life was becoming? She was a former Naval Intelligence officer for fuck's sake, not some barefoot and pregnant housewife!
Catherine flung the lemon rind into the trashcan, angrily squeezing the rest of the pieces across the top of the platters, not even caring that the seeds were dropping across the dish. One by one she pitched the used wedges into the garbage, feeling her anger grow with each toss.
Catherine washed her hands quickly and stormed out of the kitchen heading for the stairs. She tossed her head back as she paraded up the stairs and into the bedroom. She slammed the bedroom door for good measure, listening to the walls vibrate and picture frames rattle before settling against the wood paneling.
The whole situation was ridiculous, Catherine reminded herself as she sat down on the edge of the bed. She let out a long breath and rubbed her hands over her face. This wasn't like her to feel jealous and resentful of her friends.
Steve worked hard to assemble that team and forge those bonds. But where did that leave her? She knew he loved her, of that she had no doubt. He had taken her back without hesitation when she'd returned to the island. Their relationship picked up as though no time had passed between them.
Catherine rubbed her thumb against her ring finger, spinning the gold band and engagement ring. Steve had made his promise to her known right away. It had only been a few weeks since she'd arrived back home and he was down on one knee. Their time apart had only served to strengthen their commitment to one another and remind them both that life was too short.
And Catherine was beyond happy; her heart had felt so full she thought it might burst. It was beyond anything she could have imagined. Her fears of being rejected were blown away the moment Steve had hugged her on the beach that morning of her return.
So why now? Why question his love or his commitment? Why did she feel like she was playing second fiddle to Steve and the rest of the team? There was no place for her among the taskforce, other than the occasional contact she could still provide to Navy Intelligence. And that hurt. It hurt way more than she wanted to admit.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she sniffed her nose. Catherine glanced around the bedroom, her eyes landing on the wooden cradle in the corner by the porch door.
It was truly a thing of beauty. Hand carved teakwood, with the phrase "Hiwahiwa" engraved across one arm, Kono and Adam hand given the cradle to Catherine and Steve at their baby shower. That was almost two months ago, and it was the last time Catherine recalled feeling so welcome and a part of the group.
Over the past few months she had felt her relationships begin to drift, even with her sister friend Kono. Time had passed, Kono slipping into her own role as a wife and the caseload for 5-0 becoming more hectic, and they found themselves further apart.
There was a time, not long ago, that Catherine wouldn't have gone a single day without a text or call out to her friend. But that time was gone and Catherine felt herself become more alienated from everyone and everything.
Her life had become a never-ending sea of doctor's appointments and baby preparations. Nothing was her own anymore, all of her time and energy focused on preparing for the arrival of her child.
Steve was there, of course, as best he could be, given the frantic schedule of his job. He'd burst into doctors' appointments wild-eyes and winded but with a fierce determination. He had made a commitment and he would honor that, come hell or high water. No task was too small, no job to trivial, always reassuring Catherine that he was there for her.
But at what cost? Steve couldn't sideline his career for her, no matter what he tried to say. There were so many reasons why, money being the most practical. Unless they wanted to start panhandling on the streets of Waikiki, Steve needed to stay employed. Babies were expensive. Catherine had done the research and the math. The mean cost of raising a child to age 18 was approximately $250,000 in the US.
And what did she contribute to that? Nothing. That's what. Catherine felt a sob escape her throat as she crawled across the bed. She lay down and pulled her body pillow close as the tears began to swell. No, she had to get a grip on herself. There wasn't time to wallow in her own self-pity.
There were only a handful of weeks left before they baby was born. It was time to start taking matters into her own hands. Catherine tossed the pillow aside and rolled to the edge of the mattress. Blindly she reached under the bed and felt around until she grasped the edge of her laptop. She retrieved the device and sat back against the headboard as she booted it up.
Catherine had sent out a few emails and signed up for some message boards over the past couple of weeks, trying to put some feelers out on the market. She could still manage to do some basic recon and intel work even while she was pregnant. Running background checks were simple, nothing more than a few hours combing through someone's financials and she could pull in a couple hundred bucks easy. But she felt torn about it.
Catherine couldn't shake the feeling that Steve would disapprove in some way and because of that she felt the need to hide what she was doing. It fed into her irrational belief that Steve wanted a housewife. A kept woman. Someone to wash his clothes, clean his house, cook his meals, and keep his bed warm. He man. She female. And Catherine would be damned if she was going to get dragged around the proverbial cave by the hair. No, she had to do this. She had to make her own way. Contribute to the family and provide for her child.
The laptop dinged, signaling that she had new emails. Catherine scrolled through the messages, noting that most were trash, but a few caught her eye. One was from a man wanting to know if Catherine could provide some background on a new business partner. Another was from a woman who was sure her husband was cheating on her and wanted to get proof to take to a lawyer.
Catherine sighed and typed out her replies before powering the laptop back down again. She shoved the device back under the bed and rolled onto her side, burying her head in the pillow next to hers. She inhaled deeply, the light scent of saltwater and just a hint of shampoo tickling her nose. Steve was her last thought as she drifted off to sleep.
It was dark outside when Catherine awoke from her nap. She blinked rapidly, allowing her eyes to adjust to the warm glow of the bedside lamp. She arched her back and yawned, feeling her muscles protest against her efforts.
Catherine rolled over to look at the clock but found a surprise instead. There was a plate of food on the bedside table, along with an unopened bottle of water. A small piece of paper was tented next to the plate with a distinct scrawl "Thought you might be hungry when you woke. Love you – S"
Shaking her head, Catherine smiled and sat up as she retrieved the plate. Her smile grew even wider as she took in her meal. The grilled chicken was cut up into small bite-sized chunks, along with an assortment of grilled vegetables, and a few shrimp. All of it perfectly suitable for eating with her fingers.
She popped a piece of chicken into her mouth and chewed, thinking about her earlier misgivings. She felt better after her nap, but the overall feeling was the same. She had to find a way to fit back in. Something to make her feel useful and not so pathetic and miserable.
Catherine opened the water, noting that it was still cold, meaning Steve had been there fairly recently. She drank quickly, almost emptying the bottle in one gulp and turned back to her meal. She devoured the food, realizing just how much she needed the sustenance.
Satisfied that she'd cleaned her plate, Catherine gathered up the bottle and dish before making her way downstairs. It was quiet, save for the squeaking of the boards as she finally made it to the first floor. The living room was cast in shadows, illuminated only by the dim light coming from the study and kitchen areas.
Catherine made her way into the kitchen and placed her plate in the sink, finishing off the rest of the bottled water in another large gulp. She was screwing the cap back onto the bottle when a pair of hands snaked around her stomach. Catherine smiled, "Hey sailor."
"Did you have a good nap?" Steve's breath was warm against the skin of her shoulder.
"I guess," Catherine shrugged before she turned around in his arms, "Could have been a bit longer I suppose."
Steve gave a sad smile as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "You know you can talk to me about anything, don't you?"
"Of course," Catherine answered quickly.
Steve studied her for a moment, giving her an appraising look. Catherine felt awkward beneath his piercing gaze. She reached up and cupped his face with her hands, fingers brushing against they days growth of stubble against his skin.
Steve closed his eyes briefly, "Catherine," he breathed, "Don't." He shrugged her hands away and stepped back.
Catherine sighed, "What do you want from me, huh?"
"I want," Steve balled his hand into a fist but kept his voice even, emotions in check, "I want you to be honest with me. To tell me what's going on with you."
Catherine stared at the floor for a moment; silence permeated the room, the steady tick of the wall clock growing louder and louder with each passing second. Finally Catherine turned back towards the sink, turning on the faucet and grabbing the sponge, "I'm fine. There's nothing going on. I don't know why you think something is-" She had just begun to scrub the plate when she felt Steve's strong grip on her right arm, spinning her around, the dish slipping from her wet hands as it shattered against the tile floor.
"Dammit, Cath! Don't do this! Don't shut me out!"
Catherine stood in shock at the sudden outburst. She took in Steve's barely contained anger before settling her gaze back towards the floor. The light blue ceramic plate was scattered into wet fragments along the floor, soapsuds dripping from her fingertips.
Who the hell was he to get mad at her? Catherine felt her own anger begin to bubble to the surface. She reached for a dishtowel, snatching it from the cabinet drawer as she wiped her hands dry, "You have some nerve!"
Catherine squatted down and began retrieving pieces of the broken plate, "Don't you dare talk to me about shutting people out!" She could see his sandaled feet pacing back and forth before her, "I'm doing the best I can here, Steve."
The feet stopped in front of her and then Steve was there, squatting, his eyes seeking her own, "I'm worried, Cath. You haven't been yourself for a while now and I want to help, that's all." He reached out and took the ceramic fragments from her hands, "I need you to talk to me, to tell me what I can do."
Catherine closed her eyes and shook her head, afraid to speak, afraid that her emotions would spill over and shatter across the floor like the plate. She wouldn't be a burden, she couldn't. Catherine heard Steve sigh before he got up, tossing the broken dish in the trashcan.
Steve grabbed the broom and dustpan from beside the refrigerator and started sweeping up the remaining smaller fragments. He studied his wife carefully. She remained squatted on the floor, her arms wrapping around her chest, head down, and looking utterly defeated. He felt so frustrated and confused.
He had noticed her gradual decline over the past month. It was subtle but steady. Ever so slowly she'd begun to retreat into a shell. Steve could almost pinpoint when it happened, but he wasn't entirely certain.
Catherine had become a regular fixture at the Palace once they had married, always stopping by hang out or give some advice on a case when needed. Steve had enjoyed the extra time he got to spend with his wife and looked forward to her unexpected visits.
She would help out when they needed research or serve as a communications relay for the team in a crisis. As her pregnancy progressed, the team found themselves the center of her nurturing instincts. Catherine began running personal errands for the team, ensuring everyone ate when they needed to, and even reorganized the teams tactical gear and supplies.
One morning though, something changed. Catherine had been up early, even by Steve's standards. She'd left the house before him and was waiting patiently at HQ when everyone arrived. There was a piping hot carafe of coffee set out with everyone's coffee mugs, along with a box of fresh malasadas.
Catherine was all smiles as everyone gave their appreciation. Danny was sipping on his second cup of coffee, when it happened. In typical Danny fashion, he blurted out, "You know, you might just be worth keeping around for all this."
It was such a typical Danny thing to say. Nothing had been meant by it, no malice or disrespect intended. It was just Danny being Danny, in all his unfiltered glory. Everyone gave a chuckle and a shake of their heads, everyone that was except for Catherine.
Steve saw something shift in his wife, saw a flash across her eyes, something unguarded and dark, but it was gone almost as quickly as he'd noticed it. She smiled and then playfully punched Danny in the arm, giving a chuckle of her own. Steve had let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. And the team sat around eating pastries and enjoying the company.
After that, Catherine stopped coming around as often, no longer dropping by when she was out and about. No more checking on everyone's eating habits, or offering to pitch in when she could help. She began brushing off lunch dates, or had last minute plans whenever they tried to organize a team get together.
Next there was a decrease in phone calls and texts from his wife, little things for sure, but they meant something. The sound of her voice or a few hastily typed messages was always a highlight for Steve's workday. And they slowly dwindled away, until now he was the one making the calls or sending the texts. Hell, he'd even asked Chin to make sure his phone was working properly one day because she didn't respond to one of his texts.
Then Kono had approached him, genuinely concerned about her friend. She'd relayed that Catherine had seemingly ignored a few of her phone calls or messages as well. Steve had done his best to reassure his teammate that Catherine was fine, but even he had a hard time believing the words as they'd left his mouth.
Steve had tried to mend that bridge between Catherine and Kono himself. He tried to nudge his wife into calling her friend, even going so far as to suggest a girl's night out, but Catherine didn't respond. She had simply brushed him off and said she would get in touch, but never got around to it.
And then things started to shift between the two of them. Catherine had grown more distant both physically and emotionally. Gone were the early days of her pregnancy where all she wanted was his touch. Catherine started going to bed earlier or pretending to be asleep when he crawled into bed beside her after a long hard day of work.
She didn't want to cuddle or let him hold her when she slept, favoring her recently acquired body pillow instead. On that point, Steve tried to be rational. He'd read enough information about how uncomfortable pregnancy was and he tried not to take it personally.
But it had become so much more than that. Catherine rarely instigated any kind of physical contact anymore. And when she did, it was usually a diversion tactic, designed to waylay Steve from his questions or concerns. She never offered so much as a hug or a peck on the cheek. And while she didn't pull away from his advances, she wasn't enthusiastic about it. Sometimes she was almost unresponsive.
Conversation had become almost nonexistent between them. Steve had always made an effort to keep Catherine in the loop when it came to the team and what was going on on the island, but she started to seem bored by his words, disinterested in the world around her.
Steve had tried to make small talk, always asking about how she was feeling and how the baby was doing, but even that didn't seem to peak her interest. Dinners became more about eating and less about time spent together. Uncomfortable silences started to fill their mealtimes until Catherine began taking her food up to bedroom and eating her meals in solitude.
Once that began, Steve felt like something had to be done. He had labored over the idea for a few days before he finally gave in and called Catherine's doctor. He hadn't wanted to be one of those men who went behind their wives back, but he knew things couldn't continue the way they were.
Much to Steve's surprise, the doctor had voiced his own misgivings as well. He expressed his concern over Catherine's overall demeanor and mood. The doctor added the hormonal disclaimer of course, but he didn't just brush off Catherine's behavior either.
So Steve was given instructions to watch Catherine closely, to monitor any sudden changes in her mood or behavior and take notes. And so he'd begun to run a sort of covert surveillance on his wife, silently observing her as she paced around the house or sat alone by the beach. Watching for any sign that she might be ready to fall apart.
And now he wondered how close she was to doing just that, as she remained squatted on the kitchen floor. Steve blew out a breath and scratched the back of his head, trying to figure out what his next move should be.
Steve wondered if Catherine thought her disappearance earlier in the day had gone unnoticed. He was sure she thought she was being subtle as she made her way towards the house, collecting trash and bottles, looking for all the world like she was playing a good hostess.
But Steve knew. As soon as she got up from her chair, he knew she wouldn't be coming back. And when the questions about her departure started to surface, he'd given a pretty convincing story about her stomach being upset.
All through dinner Steve had his thoughts firmly planted on his wife. He would glance up at the patio doors, wondering if Catherine might be watching them from behind the sheer curtains. After everyone had left, he gathered up the plate of food that he'd set aside and grabbed a bottle of water. He scribbled out the note as an afterthought and headed up the stairs.
The bedroom was dark, save for the moonlight filtering in through the windows. It was enough light for Steve to make his way across the floor and set down the plate on the bedside table. He flicked the switch on the lamp, casting a warm glow across the one side of the bedroom.
Silently, Steve stood watch over his wife. She was lying on her side, with her back towards the side of the bed. She had her arms wrapped around his pillow, her face almost buried in it.
He could make out her steady breathing and the slight arch to her shoulder with the rise and fall of her chest. Steve reached out and brushed her hair back away from her shoulder before placing a gentle kiss on her skin.
Then he'd retreated to the safety of his father's study and tried to busy himself with a case file. Catherine had come down shortly after that, not even noticing him as she made a beeline for the kitchen.
Now, Steve felt like he was teetering on the edge of some giant cliff. And any wrong move could prove fatal. He sat down on the floor next to Catherine, reaching out for his wife, "C'mere."
Steve felt her stiffen as his arms wrapped around her and she resisted as he tried to pull her into a hug. But he wasn't going to back down, "Cath," he leaned forward and brushed his lips against her forehead, "You've got to let me help you. You can't go on like this."
He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Catherine's. And then he felt it happen. A small tremor shook her body, followed by another one and then a strangled cry erupted from somewhere deep inside her throat.
Catherine's arms moved quickly, wrapping around her husband's body, her hands fisting and balling the material of his cotton t-shirt. She buried her head against his neck as she fought the battle of emotions that were threatening to consume her.
"It's okay, I've got you," Steve tried to soothe her as he ran his hand up and down her back, gently rocking her as he went. They stayed locked in their embrace for a few moments longer before Steve felt Catherine's legs give in and she slumped backwards onto her backside. Steve moved quickly and shifted them until Catherine was almost sitting across his lap.
"I'm sorry," she whispered against his neck before pulling back. Catherine felt like she was slowly losing control of everything in her life. This wasn't her. She wasn't some sappy female who wept on the kitchen floor. She was stronger than this. She was better than this! And she was going to find a way to ensure that her emotions didn't get the better of her. "I'm good," she lied.
Steve gave her a pained expression as he cupped her cheek, "No. No you're not."
But she would be. Catherine had to make sure of it.
TBC