A/N: This is my reasoning for why Steve was so broken up at the end of Episode 19: Kahania (Close Shave). Something Garig Dobrian, the father, said to Steve in the blue room really stuck with me and I've wanted to write about it since the episode aired. So here's a nice angst-fest insight into/continuation of the episode.

For anyone reading my other story, Halfway, I want to get back to writing it as much as I'm sure you want to read it after a 2+ month hiatus. Soon! I promise I haven't abandoned it completely.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to CBS. This is just for fun, and to get us through withdrawal until September. Woohoo Season 6!

Not beta-ed. All mistakes are my own.

What She Couldn't Do

… … …

"No, you don't understand. My son lied to you," implored the heavily accented voice of Garig Dobrian whom Steve had down on his knees at gunpoint.

Steve froze and wondered if he'd heard the man correctly. "What'd you say?" he asked harshly, still watching the man from behind his gun.

"My son," the Armenian crime boss repeated, "lied to you! Eran. The boy you were trying to protect at the barbershop? That's my son." He was looking at Steve and begging him to understand, begging him to listen.

And Steve did listen.

And it enraged him.

"Your son?" he asked incredulously. "Why would you want to kill your own son?!" Steve was almost shouting now. He was furious that he didn't understand the situation, that he may have misread the boy all morning. He was furious that a father would try to kill his flesh and blood, if that's even what was happening here.

"Eran is…" Garig Dobrian finally began to speak.

"Answer me!" Steve shouted. He wanted to know why. He needed to know why.

"…is a sick boy! Touched by the devil!" the father finally shouted as if expelling his own demon.

What the hell was going on? What kind of person was he dealing with now? Was this some kind of religious fanaticism? Steve couldn't even form a response to that statement. He didn't understand what it meant. He and Odell had spent the whole morning with this kid in an intense environment and he never sensed anything wrong or suspicious about Eran. What was Dobrian saying?

Steve was beginning to get a very bad feeling about this.

"What are you talkin' about?" he asked breathlessly as he considered the ramifications in the back of his mind.

"You're a police officer, right? You must have heard about those children who went missing from my neighborhood?"

Steve felt like he got kicked in the gut. Hard.

"What's that got to do with Eran?" he asked, harshly again. Steve could tell where this was going. He was mad at himself for not seeing it. He was mad at the man he held at gunpoint for trying to fix it this way. He was realizing that he had left Odell with this kid…

"Everything!" Garig Dobrian insisted. As Steve looked into his eyes he could see the internal struggle, the guilt and the pain at deciding to end his son's life. He still didn't understand it, not yet. "Eran…" the man struggled to get the next words out, "he took them. And he murdered them." Dobrian broke eye contact with Steve for the first time when he uttered those words. Guilt, pain, shame, horror: it was all there in his eyes, in his body language.

Steve's heart was convinced by the performance, but his head remained skeptical.

"Why should I believe you?" he asked with deadly calm.

"What father… would want this to be true for his own son, huh?" Steve could almost feel the depth of pain in the other man's eyes. "When I… when I found out… I had to make it right," he stated with conviction. "But my associates failed to stop him. Now please tell me… you did," the man begged him.

A father, wanting to hear that his son was dead. Begging this from a son who wished more than anything for his father to still be alive.

But Steve couldn't dwell right now. He had a mistake to fix, and he only hoped he wouldn't be too late.

... … …

Steve didn't think twice. Once Odell had dropped to the dock he put two slugs in Eran's chest. His conversation with Garig Dobrian was out of his mind and he was taking down an immediate threat to his friend.

Even when the threat was neutralized, Steve still didn't think about it. He crouched down next to Odell to help him up. The man was a bit shaken, understandably. "Hey, you alright?" he asked gently. The only response was a wide-eyed sort of disbelief. "C'mon, Odell," Steve said as he helped his friend up and started to lead him away. Odell wouldn't stop staring at Eran's body as they walked by. Steve gave him a little push while he took his own extended stare.

"Thanks, man," Odell finally spoke. There was acceptance there. That was good. He didn't blame Steve for ending the kid's life.

"You alright?" Steve asked again, knowing this had to be hard on the guy.

Odell glanced around. "I dunno," he stated honestly.

There was no point asking the same question again. That was the most accurate answer Steve was liable to get today. "Thought you were a pacifist," he stated, trying to lighten the mood a bit, but also curious as to why Odell head-butted the kid and dropped. He must have known what would happen.

"Today I'm making an exception," Odell said, his voice once again full of acceptance. He did what he had to do to survive. Steve understood that more than anyone and nodded in response. But the next question Steve didn't yet have a complete answer to. "What'd he do?" Odell asked, resigned. The man had been held at gunpoint by Eran, he knew something more was going on.

He told Odell the story that Garig Dobrian had shared. Odell deserved to know. He also deserved to know why Steve was about to abandon him to HPD instead of helping his friend through the judicial process after a long, hard day.

Steve needed to finish this.

… … …

He knew if he thought about it any longer he wouldn't have the courage to enter the room. So despite not being ready – not knowing what to say – he unlocked the door, heard the familiar buzz and walked in, closing the door behind him.

There sat Garig Dobrian, the father who wanted his son dead. And Steve was the one who made that happen. How do you tell a man horrible news that part of him actually wants to hear? Steve had no idea how to do this. He paced around the room, avoiding looking at its only other occupant. He could feel Dobrian watching him, and he finally forced himself to stand still. Family notifications he could handle. This… this was different. This was Steve fulfilling a hit put out on a kid by the boy's father.

"He is dead, right?" the father asked, finally breaking the tense silence and putting Steve out of his misery.

Steve looked down. "I'm sorry," he said as he finally turned his gaze to the man in the chair and took a deep breath.

Garig Dobrian looked resigned. He dropped his head to his chest and shook it. When he lifted it he looked through Steve as he said, "He was a monster." Then he looked up, as if searching for something and continued, "He was still my son."

Steve had no response to that. He was trying to stay present in this room with this man. The alternative was to let his mind slip and start thinking about another monster, another son…

He couldn't dwell on that until he finished this.

"Thank you," Dobrian admitted softly. "Thank you for doing what I couldn't." The man had a far-away look in his eyes.

Steve mirrored it with one of his own.

…doing what I couldn't. They were just words. But something had started to click in Steve's brain. He was realizing something about the choices that his mother had made.

He felt like collapsing to the floor with the implications of that statement for his own life, but kept his calm and tried to make something good come of the situation. "If you really wanna thank me, help me close this case." He swallowed thickly. "Help me get closure for the families of Eran's victims."

"How?" the man asked, looking lost. "How can I do that?"

"I need evidence. I need you to show me whatever is was that you found… that told you Eran did what he did." Steve may have been requesting the evidence in order to close today's case and help the families of the victims, but more than anything he needed that evidence for himself. He needed to know that he had become the equivalent of a hitman for a reason. For a good reason. Otherwise he was no better than some of the people he'd spent the last five years putting away.

The man in the chair seemed to take a minute before finally nodding his acquiescence.

… … …

The stairs creaked ominously as he slowly descended into the basement. And it wasn't just the stairs that signaled a sense of foreboding in him. This whole place felt evil. Maybe Garig Dobrian was more right than Steve thought when he said his son was touched by the devil. It certainly felt that way as Steve pointed his light at the numerous broken locks on the door.

As he pushed the door open, his light fell on a small red shoe. Steve's first thought was of his partner. He was so, so glad that Danny wasn't here to see this. Or Lou. And Steve would never tell them. This was his partner's worst nightmare, and it just might become Steve's worst nightmare as well.

Trophies.

This was a trophy room. Steve had protected Eran, believed his story. He'd put Odell's life in danger. And now he was standing in the kid's trophy room.

The light glanced over several items, but Steve only had eyes for the box. Garig Dobrian had told him that what he needed would be in the box. He picked up the lid and took out the stack of photos. It was heavy. Too heavy. There were so many photos. Jesus.

He set down the flashlight and used the sunlight coming in from the window to view the photos. But even the sun seemed reluctant to shine in here.

A little girl with a dirt-streaked face.

A little boy who didn't understand what was happening.

Steve started flipping through them faster and faster, wanting to get it over with, but needing to see every one. His stomach was in his throat and he swallowed thickly to keep the bile down. The images started to blur and only after he'd stopped and sucked in a deep breath did he realize that it was tears clouding his vision.

Jesus.

The last thing he wanted was to hand this off to HPD. To force someone else to see this room, these tiny, innocent faces. He tried again to flip through the photos, but it was just too much. In every one he saw little Joanie. He saw Gracie. He saw a kid that he didn't save. He remembered the monster that he'd protected. His back hit the wall and he was sliding down it. The photos landed with a thud on the floor. He cradled his head in his arms and let the emotions wash over him.

… … …

Steve had no idea how long he sat there. The sun was fading, but his flashlight was still shining brightly. He wasn't stupid enough to believe that he could do this alone, but he could at least make sure that it was done right. He called HPD for a crime scene unit to meet him while he put the stack of photos back in the box where he'd found them.

CSU arrived and Steve spent the next two hours helping them catalogue evidence. No one watching the stoic commander would have any idea of the breakdown he'd had a few hours ago or any clue that it took all his willpower to present a confident, controlled façade. Besides, they were too busy dealing with the horror in front of them to realize much of anything else.

While Steve had a job to focus on, he was fine. He was capable of pushing his thoughts away and helping out where he could. But after two hours of being knee deep in the heartbreaking scene, the job was done.

He knew he didn't want to go home, but he also didn't want to go to the office for fear of being caught by his team. He never wanted to explain this to them. He never wanted anyone he cared about to have to see any of this horror. Besides, they'd updated him on the situation with Jerry and were taking him out to dinner. While he loved his team dearly, he didn't think he could enjoy their company right now. Hell, he just didn't have enough humor in him to deal with Jerry right now. The office might be safe and team-free, but he'd still be alone with his thoughts.

So he hopped in his truck without a plan and started driving. Now that the day was ending, he allowed the thoughts he'd been pushing away all afternoon into his head. Thank you for doing what I couldn't. It kept echoing in his head. He was a monster… He was still my son.

Doris.

Wo Fat.

A monster.

Our mother.

She had raised him as her own son.

And then abandoned him, like she abandoned him and Mary years later.

The two slugs pulled out of the floor in the safe house almost four years ago.

Thank you for doing what I couldn't.

Had she wanted to kill Wo Fat? Had she tried, but just couldn't do it?

He was a monster…he was still my son.

Did Doris face the same dilemma?

While all these thoughts chased each other around Steve's mind he had driven aimlessly and just now realized where he'd ended up. Back at Odell's.

It was past business hours and the scene looked eerily similar to this morning. Streets empty. No one open. No movement anywhere. This morning it had been peaceful and Steve had enjoyed a good, relaxing shave. He'd even enjoyed getting to know Odell a little better. And then through what followed he'd gotten to know the man even better.

Talk about a day going from bad to worse.

"Hey, McGarrett!" Odell shouted from under his half open gate. "You coming in or you just gonna sit out there and keep lookout or somethin'? Whatever you military types call it."

Steve felt a smile forming on his face despite the day he'd had. Odell had the same bad day. He was glad that his distracted driving had led him here and his friend was in his shop, or at least what was left of it.

"C'mon, McGarrett! I got a glass of scotch with your name on it," Odell shouted again.

Steve smiled again and got out of the truck. As he was walking across the barren street he checked his pocket. Cell phone. Check. He would never make that mistake again. This morning he'd felt the need to unwind, just get away from everything for a while especially after the debacle in Colombia and the new developments about his mother. But now he fully understood that he was never allowed that luxury and he wouldn't be taking it again anytime soon.

"I like what you've done with the place," Steve snarked as he ducked under the half-open gate.

"Bite me," Odell responded as he turned to look at his friend. "Jesus, McGarrett. You look like death warmed over."

Steve just snorted and waved him off. "Rough day, ya know."

"Yeah. Yeah it was," Odell said as he looked down and paused before he asked, "Did he really do it? The kid?"

Steve didn't want to talk about this right now. He gave a heavy sigh and nodded. Luckily Odell didn't press him further.

"Jesus," Odell repeated. Before Steve looked up again Odell shoved a glass into his hand and held out the nearly full bottle of scotch. "Here. You look like you could use this, McGarrett. You actually look like you could use a dozen more, but we'll get there."

Steve looked at the glass in his hand and took a long sip. "Steve. Call me Steve." It was a little ridiculous that Odell still called him by his last name after everything they'd been through today.

"Well, Steve. Knock that back and then grab a broom. That scotch isn't free you know," Odell gave him a wicked smile and turned back to cleaning.

Steve did as he was told. The scotch burning a welcome pain down his throat. He grabbed a broom and got to work.

… … …

Hours later the shop almost looked back to normal except for the bullet holes in everything and the complete lack of windows. The sun had started to rise and Odell had opened up the gate fully to let the light in.

He and Steve sat with their backs against the counter, ironically recreating their positions from that morning. Except this time instead of being armed with a single gun they were armed with two bottles of scotch.

"Doesn't look half bad," Steve remarked as he took another sip straight from his bottle. He hadn't eaten anything the previous day and now on top of staying up all night he was feeling the full effects of the alcohol.

"Not bad at all. They teach you how to clean that well in the Army?" Odell asked jokingly as he drank from his own bottle.

Steve snorted loudly and started chuckling.

"What? What did I say?" Odell asked with a smile on his face.

Steve continued laughing, holding his ribs. "Nothin'. Nothin', man. It's just, Danny always does the same thing. Knows I'm in the Navy, but says stuff like that to rile me up," Steve explained after he finally stopped laughing. "Doesn't do it much anymore though," he added longingly.

"You and him? You're close?" Odell asked.

The conversation had sobered up quickly, even if the men hadn't.

"Yeah. We are. Were. I don't really know anymore, ya know? We've gone through some really rough shit this year and he just seems distant. I guess we both are." Steve became lost in his own thoughts, reliving all the things that had happened just this year. He'd been shot by the weaponized drone after barely being recovered from Afghanistan, not to mention Catherine staying behind. Danny had been dragged through hell in Colombia with Steve by his side and getting out of there had been no easy feat. Then his capture and subsequent torture by Wo Fat – again. And finally learning his mother's secret. Thinking that his dad was alive. Almost losing Joe to the biological weapon plot. Then just recently Chin and Danny being arrested, and Steve being forced to make the hard choice between the two of them. He learned even more about his mother's actions in the shit storm of rescuing Danny.

And now this.

"Steve? Hey, Steve?! McGarrett!" Odell finally shook his shoulder and brought him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. I'm good," Steve tried to shrug off the concern.

Odell looked at him skeptically. "I'd call you a lot of things, McGarrett, but good isn't one of them right now. You looked like you were off in la-la land. What's got you so caught up?"

"I thought you were a lawyer, not a shrink," Steve tried to change the subject.

"Neither. Or maybe both. I'm a barber, Steve. It comes with the territory. Now, something's got you all messed up, so spill," Odell urged, taking another swig of alcohol. "C'mon, man. You saved my life today. A couple of times. I can tell something's eating at you and I just wanna help. I'm a good listener, I swear." Odell had seen plenty of men sit in his chair and could tell when they needed to open up. The SEAL was no different.

Steve looked across the beat-up shop and took another drink before setting the bottle down at his side.

"Is it about the kid from today? Your mother? What?" Odell prompted, trying to get the stoic man to talk.

Steve exhaled and looked down between his feet, arms resting on his knees and his bottle of scotch abandoned on the floor next to him. "My mother…" Steve scoffed.

"Yeah, you said she aided and abetted a man who tried to kill you and then went into hiding so that you couldn't call her on it," Odell restated word for word. "Although I highly doubt that all you wanted to do was call her on it," he added.

Steve huffed and banged his head back against the counter. "Thing is, I don't even know how I feel about that anymore."

"How's that?"

"You know what Garig Dobrian said to me after I killed his son?" Steve asked.

"Um… No. I have no idea." Odell was thrown by the sudden change in topic, but was curious as to where this was heading.

"He thanked me," Steve stated.

"Come again?" Odell thought he'd misheard.

"He thanked me," Steve repeated. "Said 'Thank you for doing what I couldn't'. Said his son was a monster, but he was still his son." Steve had his eyes closed with his head still resting against the counter. Odell would think he was relaxed if not for the emotional rollercoaster of a discussion they were having.

"Well, he ordered a hit on his own kid, so I guess he kind of got what he wanted, even if part of him didn't really want it." Odell still couldn't figure out where this was going.

"Yeah," Steve sighed. "I wonder if my mom ever wanted the same thing, but just couldn't go through with it. If she would thank me now. Maybe that's why she's hiding."

Now Odell was even more confused. "Wait, I thought she only helped the man who wanted to kill – oh." It finally clicked. "So this guy, that was trying to kill you…he was her son, your brother?"

Steve instantly came alive. "He's NOT my brother!" he shouted, staring Odell down with rage in his eyes.

Odell held his hands up. "Okay. Sorry, man. Sorry. I'm just – I'm having a little trouble following all this, okay?" he talked the SEAL down. "I'm sorry."

Steve breathed deeply and banged his head back against the counter, and didn't that hurt? Odell thought. The SEAL closed his eyes and took another deep, calming breath before he spoke. "No. I'm sorry, man. It's just that – It's complicated." His voice was littered with distain.

"Well, how about you un-complicate it for me, huh?" the barber suggested.

Steve rolled his head to look at him for a full minute. Then seeming to make up his mind he grabbed the bottle off the floor and took a long drink.

"It's not a pretty story," Steve tried to steer his friend away one last time.

"Lay in on me, man," Odell shot back.

Steve looked at Odell and saw only concern in his eyes. The sun had almost fully risen, bathing the shop in a pale red glow. It was calming in a way. Steve sighed heavily and finally started talking.

"So this guy, Wo Fat's his name…"

… … …

FIN

Did anyone else think that the episode was a giant, glaring allegory for Doris' relationship with Wo Fat and Steve gaining some insight into it? No? Just me? Well, hope you still enjoyed. I had a whole giant chunk of further conversation between Steve and Odell, but this just felt like the right place to stop. I'm not entirely happy with this, but I just wanted to get something out there.