A/N: A short, slightly fluffy chapter written for Memorial Day. I couldn't find any specific background information for Freddie's parents, so I created a bit of a backstory for them.
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There was nothing for it - four missing prisoners, all assumed armed and dangerous, and a team of federal marshals coming to participate in a joint operation to hunt them down - Steve was going to miss Memorial Day with Freddie's parents. They'd kindly invited him months ago, and he'd almost forgotten until his phone rang and 'Mom Hart' popped up on the caller ID.
"Yes, ma'am, I'm so sorry. I was looking forward to it as well. Thank you for understanding," Steve said, slumped in his desk chair. Jax was on his sofa, pecking away at a laptop, her injured leg propped on a low footstool. She normally shared an office with Grover, but there were two marshals sharing what was intended to be her desk, and it was plenty crowded.
"Actually, that would . . . are you sure? I think that would be very nice, if you don't mind that I'm likely to be tied up and the office and chasing down leads. But I, um, need to ask my . . . well, you see, someone is living with me now. Yes, ma'am," Steve said, and Jax looked up, intrigued. She could swear he was blushing. "Just a moment, please." Steve pushed the mute button on the phone.
"Hey, Jax," Steve said, "I was supposed to spend some time with Freddie's parents this weekend, but obviously, with the case . . . they've offered to come to our place instead, spend Sunday night, maybe at least catch a little time together in the evening. And then they could enjoy the beach. Maybe you could listen to Malia for once, and take it easy for a bit, keep them company?"
"Is this a conspiracy to keep me out of the field?" Jax said suspiciously.
"No . . . although you're definitely not cleared for field duty . . . these are Freddie's parents. They're . . . they're his parents," Steve said simply. It was enough.
"Of course, Steve," Jax said. "I'd be honored to meet them. I'll cook for them, if you think they'd like that. But anything good comes in, you have to promise, you're not going to cut me out of the loop."
"I won't, ku'uipo, but you'll work tech and logistics from the home office," Steve said. "Malia would frown on you even being here today." He returned to the phone call. "Mrs. Hart? We'd be delighted to have you. No it's absolutely no problem whatsoever, my . . . well, Jax, who you'll meet, is injured and on severely restricted duty. It actually works out very well. Yes, ma'am, we'll see you Sunday evening, then."
#*#*#*#*#
The rest of Saturday passed in painstaking, agonizingly boring comparison of notes, and Sunday started off the same. The US Marshals were thorough and followed their own protocol, and while it wasn't Steve's style to put so much energy into creating files, he respected their approach.
So far, the prisoners had vanished without a trace, although it was highly unlikely that they'd made it off the island - at least, not through any conventional means. With no active leads to follow, Steve asked to speak with US Marshal Brian Caviness in his office.
"What can I do for you, Commander?" the marshal asked, curious as to why he was being invited for a private conversation. "Is there a problem?" He was well aware that he, and his team, were likely stepping on toes, even though they were just trying to do their jobs.
"No, Caviness, no problem at all," Steve assured him, gesturing for him to sit. "Do we have any active leads whatsoever?"
"Not yet. I can see where our data-based approach is probably frustrating to you, Commander. You're welcome to add to the cases as you see fit. We are, after all, in your offices," Caviness said.
"Your attitude is refreshing, Marshal," Steve said. "And if my team seems . . . skeptical; well, please bear with us. We just had a very negative experience with an agent from Homeland Security."
Caviness nodded. "Yes, Captain Grover filled me in after your Officer Kalakaua gave me the stink-eye." He laughed and waved off Steve's look of concern. "Commander, I assure you, my team is tight-knit; we would have had a similar dynamic. But, I don't think that's why you asked to speak with me?"
"No, actually, I wanted to let you know that I'm leaving for a few hours, provided there isn't anything pressing you need from me," Steve said. "As Danny will attest - loudly - I often stay in the office 24/7 while there's an open case, but I need to go home for a bit. I lost a team-mate in an op a couple years back . . . his parents are coming in for the Memorial Day holiday."
"And I assume you'll be taking Officer Nolan with you?" Caviness asked mildly.
Steve crossed his arms and stared at Caviness. "Is that a problem?"
"Not at all. She's not cleared for field duty; I assumed she was here because she would be considered an active target for at least two of the escaped prisoners. Her official file lists the same residence as yours; obviously, it's not a secret that she lives with you. My interest in Officer Nolan's whereabouts and schedule is purely to coordinate her safety. We assume every member of your team is a target; especially Nolan and Williams. We're suggesting that the usual precautions be put in place," Caviness said. "I also asked if you were taking her with you, because she's bleeding through her bandages."
Steve followed Caviness's gaze out to the main computer, where Jax had a hip propped against the computer, her crutch long abandoned in some forgotten corner of the office. She and Kono had their heads bent over the console, and as Jax stretched to reach and click on a file, Steve could see the faint trace of blood seeping through the bandage on her arm.
He sighed. "If her arm's bleeding, she's likely pulled stitches on her leg, too. Yeah, I'll get her out of here. I'm reachable by cell, and I have a home office."
Marshal Caviness smiled and nodded. "Commander McGarrett, your team has been through an incredible ordeal. We're here to help and support - please allow us to share some of the workload. All of you need to take some down time this weekend. We know how to reach you." Caviness stood and extended a hand to Steve. HIs handshake was firm, but not aggressive.
"Marshal Caviness, I appreciate it," Steve said. "I look forward to working with you."
"Jax, you're dripping on Chin's computer," Steve said, leaning in the doorway of his office and looking at her with fond exasperation.
"Sistah, you've pushed it too far again," Kono chided. "Sorry, boss. I didn't notice or I would have tried to bench her."
"Come on, we're going to head home, be there when Freddie's parents arrive," Steve said.
"Okay," Jax sighed. "Kono, let me know if that stake-out for Sang Min becomes a possibility." Jax started to limp toward the elevator.
"Crutch?" Steve said, quirking an eyebrow at her.
"In here," Danny called from his office. "Where it's been for the last hour, while she neglected to use it." He came out of the office, holding the crutch out toward Jax, who took it reluctantly.
"It makes my good arm hurt," she protested.
"You know, a good solution for that would be to, oh, I don't know, stay off your feet altogether," Danny said. He looked exhausted; still pale from blood loss, and lines of fatigue and pain etched his face.
"Danno, call it a day," Steve said. "That's an order. Go home. Rest on the sofa; let Gracie play nurse. Marshal Caviness is going to keep us posted if any leads come in. Kono, you and Chin and Grover wrap it up when you are ready, okay?"
Marshal Caviness nodded in approval, smiling as Steve's hand settled on the small of Jax's back as they headed toward the elevator.
#*#*#*#*#
"Do we need to go see Malia?" Steve asked, as he boosted Jax up into the Silverado.
"Nah," she said, leaning her head back against the seat. "Will you change the bandages for me?"
"Of course," Steve said, looking at her with concern. She usually was stubborn enough to insist on trying to do that herself. Her skin was pale beneath the smattering of freckles across her nose; her eyes closed, lashes dark against her cheeks. "I could call the Harts . . . " he started.
Her eyes flew open and her head snapped up. "Don't you dare," she said. "I'm fine, really and truly. I'd never forgive myself if you missed seeing Freddie's parents because of me."
"Okay, but no cooking tonight," he said. "We'll get the good barbeque from Chan's; Mr. Hart especially will love it."
Jax nodded in agreement and fell silent for most of the rest of the drive home.
"What is it, Jax?" Steve asked gently, putting his hand, warm and strong, on her knee. "You're awfully quiet." She was biting her lip uncertainly, and he resisted the urge to just pull over and kiss her until she stopped.
"I think I should sleep in Mary's room," she mumbled quietly, looking down at her hands. "I mean, I don't know his parents, and what if they're old fashioned, and how are we going to explain . . . I mean, I haven't even known you that long, and . . . "
"Jax," Steve said, stopping her rambling. "Seeing as how their granddaughter was conceived before Freddie and Kelly got married, I don't think they're going to be shocked at the idea of us sleeping together. But if you're more comfortable sleeping in Mary's room, then of course, that's absolutely fine."
"I know how important the Harts are to you," Jax said, "and I just don't want to disappoint you."
Steve shook his head. "Jax, they are going to adore you. And you could never, never disappoint me. Now, come on, let's go get your bandages looked at, and get a couple of beds made up." He winked at her as he easily lifted her from the truck, and carried her, protesting, into the house.
#*#*#*#*#
A little of Jax's nervousness slipped away the moment Fred and Maureen Hart entered the house. She'd stood back, hesitant, balancing on her crutch, as Steve opened the door wide and welcomed them inside.
Fred shook his hand and clapped him on the back.
"Good to see you, son," he said.
"Steve," Maureen said, as she cupped his face in her hands and kissed his cheek. Steve wrapped her in a hug, and from the way he rested his forehead on her shoulder, Jax knew he was struggling to control his emotions. "I know, honey, it's okay," Maureen murmured. Freddie had always easily expressed his emotions, but Steve . . . well, Maureen suspected it had been frowned upon, and she thought that was a shame.
"Steve, there is a beautiful young woman in your house," Fred said. "Hello, darlin', I'm Fred."
Jax awkwardly reached her hand out to him, still precariously balancing on her crutch.
"Jax," she said, "it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hart."
Maureen turned Steve loose with a pat. "Jax, please, we're Maureen and Fred. It's so lovely to meet you. Shouldn't you be off your feet, though, sweetie? Please, don't stand on our account."
"Let's sit on the lanai," Steve suggested. "Jax is supposed to stay off that leg; you all get settled, I'll bring out some drinks."
Jax shot Steve a look a sheer panic, but he just winked at her and headed to the kitchen. Something about her reaction seemed odd to him. She hadn't been nearly this worked up over meeting any of Danny's friends when she arrived on the island.
He pulled out his phone and shot Danny a text.
You feeling okay Danno? Looked tired today. Take it easy.
I'm good, Steve. Gracie and I are settled in for an evening of movies.
Bring her over if she gets bored. The Harts would enjoy her. Hey, Jax is totally freaked about meeting them. ? Why ?
Steven. You numbskull.
What?!
You realize: this is the equivalent of meeting your parents.
It is?
Yes, you neanderthal. Your parents are gone. You speak of Freddie like a brother. Ergo, his parents are in loco parentis.
Crazy what? You're not making sense.
Not loco, you idiot. In loco parentis. Substitute parents.
Well, yeah, we're close.
Steven. You've invited her to "meet the parents". I'm sure you've not yet had any sort of conversation with her about your relationship, mind you, you schmuck, but yet she's meeting the parents.
Oh shit.
Yeah.
How would you feel if her parents walked in the door?
Oh shit.
Yeah.
Okay, thanks Danno. Gotta go.
Steve leaned against the refrigerator. Why hadn't he thought of this - of course Jax was nervous about meeting Freddie's parents. Now he was a little nervous, too. This was ridiculous. He sighed and grabbed a tray, loading it with bottles of water, and a beer for Fred.
When he stepped onto the lanai, he had to smile. As he had predicted, the Harts were clearly smitten with Jax. Fred had launched into an animated retelling of one of his and Freddie's misadventures, and while Jax laughed in delight, Maureen was discreetly investigating the bandage on her arm.
"I promise I cleaned and dressed it properly," Steve said, smiling down at Maureen.
"I'm sure you did, Steven," she said, patting Jax's arm gently. "This remarkable young woman hasn't mentioned yet how she got injured."
"Maureen, she might not be able to say," Fred reminded Maureen gently.
"It's actually related to one of the missions Freddie and I were on, before . . . " Steve said. "Someone we were chasing held a grudge. Wanted to hurt me, so . . . "
"So he went after someone close to you," Fred said, nodding. "I'm sorry, son. And I'm sorry you got hurt, Jax."
Jax hesitated. Her injuries seemed so insignificant, compared to the Harts' loss.
"Oh, no, you can't do that," Maureen said, reading Jax's hesitation accurately. "You can't be sad to be alive, just because Freddie isn't. Right, Steve?" she said, fixing an intense gaze on Steve. "We had to have this conversation quite a few times," she added to Jax.
"From the way Steve looks at you, I think he'd be quite devastated if anything happened to you, darlin'," Fred said. "So none of this nonsense of feeling guilty for being alive. From either of you. Is that beer for me? Good man, Steve. You aren't having one?"
"No, sir, we are on standby and I could have to drive at any point," Steve said.
The evening passed pleasantly, with the Harts hearing the story of how Jax came to the island. They told more joyous stories in memories of Freddie. Sometimes Maureen laughed through tears, and Jax saw Steve struggling to control his emotions more than once; but on the whole, the memories brought them joy. Fred and Maureen smiled at each other when they noticed Steve's arm around Jax, his thumb tracing idle circles at the edge of the bandage on her arm. And they didn't miss the way Jax's hand slid into Steve's, holding it tightly when a memory of Freddie threatened to overwhelm him.
As the sun started to set, Steve turned to Maureen.
"Jax is an amazing cook, so you'll have to come again some time when she can be on her feet. But we got some really good barbeque from our favorite local place," he said. "Are you all ready for dinner?"
Maureen popped to her feet. "Let me come help," she said, holding out a hand to Jax, who had reached for her crutch. "Nonsense, Jax, stay and entertain Fred. I'm perfectly fine helping Steve."
As soon as they were in the kitchen, Maureen grabbed Steve in a fierce hug.
"She's just lovely, Steve, and we're so happy for you," she said. "But there's a sadness beyond her years. What happened?"
"She was at Ground Zero; really young, not even quite twenty, but New Jersey PD. She lost a brother, and her first love," Steve said quietly. "And she left out a lot of details about the case just before she arrived here," he added.
"You care very deeply for her," Maureen said.
"Yes, ma'am," Steve answered, nodding.
Maureen studied him for a long moment. "It's important to say the words, Steven," she reminded him gently. The Hart family told each other frequently, and specifically, how much they loved each other. It had seemed to Maureen that Steve's family had not set such an example.
"Well, then," Maureen said briskly. "Let's go get everyone fed, shall we?"
After a hearty dinner, the Harts took a short walk on the beach. Steve saw Jax looking wistfully at the Adirondack chairs closer to the water, and scooped her up and headed for them.
"Crutches are useless in the sand," he said, sitting down in a chair and nestling her comfortably in his lap.
"The Harts are good people," Jax said, snuggling her head against his shoulder.
"They feel the same about you," Steve assured her. "You sure about sleeping downstairs? I'm pretty sure we're not fooling them."
Jax laughed. "I know you think it's silly, but . . . "
"Not silly; whatever makes you comfortable is not silly," he said, kissing the top of her head.
#*#*#*#*#
Steve made sure everyone was comfortable for the night, including a brief argument with Jax over her pain medication.
"Are you kidding me?" she hissed. "Me. Completely zonked and unfiltered. Saying who knows what in front of the Harts? Unhunh. No way. Negative. Give me some Motrin, I'll be fine."
Steve gave in, exasperated, and kissed her goodnight. "Sleep well, ku'uipo," he whispered.
#*#*#*#*#
Perhaps it was his own exhaustion, or perhaps the subconscious knowledge that the highly competent Maureen Hart was on hand, but for whatever reason, Steve didn't wake up immediately when Jax stumbled out of Mary's bedroom at 2 am, half asleep, and not at all aware of her surroundings.
Maureen did, though. She and Fred had thought it was quaint, and charming, that Jax had stayed on the first floor.
"Who exactly does that boy think he's fooling, Mo?" Fred had asked. "She didn't even know where the light switch was in that bedroom."
"Well, it's whatever they're comfortable with, Fred," Maureen said. "We're the closest thing Steve has to parents, remember? I think it's sweet. It's high time Steve shared his life with someone. Though between the two of them . . . " she sighed. "They've lost entirely too much."
So when Jax stood in the hallway, completely disoriented, Maureen didn't think twice. Her instincts kicked in, and her heart went out to the petite young woman.
"Billy?"
The cry of anguish broke Maureen's heart.
"Jax," she said softly. "What is it, sweetheart? Do you want me to go get Steve?"
"You need to get out," Jax said urgently. "The building is going to come down. I'm trying to find Billy."
Maureen hazarded a guess. "Your brother?" she asked gently.
"Yes, ma'am, and Danny. You need to get to safety, though ma'am." Maureen was touched; even in her confusion, Jax's instinct was to try to protect others.
"My dear, I think you are not fully awake. Can you tell me where you are?" Maureen asked. Her years in social work had given her a solid understanding of PTSD, and there was no doubt in her mind that was what she was dealing with here. "Do me a favor, look down at your feet, and tell me what you see."
Jax looked at her feet in confusion. Light wood, bleached and worn smooth with age. Definitely not concrete.
"I'm not in New York," she said. "And Billy and Jake are gone."
"That's true, sweetheart, and I'm so sorry," Maureen said.
Realization dawned on Jax. "Oh, I'm so sorry; I woke you up . . ."
"Nonsense," Maureen said, reaching out and tucking a wayward curl behind Jax's ear. "Darling, I understand. Sometimes, in those first moments between asleep and awake, I find myself wondering if I'll hear from Freddie, or trying to remember if I've marked the date of his next leave on the calendar."
Jax nodded in understanding, impatiently brushing a tear from the corner of her eye and squaring her shoulders. She mentally berated herself for creating a situation which clearly reminded Mrs. Hart of her loss.
"I'm so sorry," she said again, trying to make a retreat to her room. She turned and put too much weight on her leg, and gasped in pain, reaching out to the wall for support. Maureen took her gently by the elbow and pulled her into a hug.
"Oh, my dear, let's get you sorted," she sighed. She sized Jax up. "Let's see, NYPD, SWAT . . . how about a nice strong coffee?"
Jax smiled, and Maureen chuckled, fetching the crutch from where it leaned against the wall next to Mary's bedroom door.
"Steven," Maureen said calmly, as they made their way past the stairs and into the kitchen, "I see your feet on the stairs. We're having coffee; do you care to join us?"
Steve sheepishly shuffled down the stairs the rest of the way, wrapping his arms around Jax and snuggling her to his chest. "You okay, ku'uipo?" he murmured. She nodded against him, and he gently framed her face with his hands, tilting her head back to look in her eyes. Satisfied that she was okay, he kissed her gently, brushing her cheekbones with his thumbs.
"I gotta hit the head," she mumbled, thunking down the hall as quietly as possible.
Maureen had started the coffee pot and set out three mugs. Steve sighed as he came into the kitchen.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hart; I couldn't convince her to take her pain medicine tonight," Steve said. "Did she hurt you?" he added, suddenly worried, and remembering the assorted bruises that he'd suffered from some of Jax's more violent nightmares.
Maureen pointed at a stool and Steve slid obediently onto it.
"No, she did not hurt me, Steven - I'm quite alarmed, though, that apparently that's a possibility," Maureen said, reaching out to hold Steve's hand across the counter. "Has she hurt you, honey?"
Steve scoffed. "Please, she packs a punch but I'm a Navy SEAL, remember?" He grinned.
Maureen fixed him with a no-nonsense glare.
"Her last case in New York . . . just before she came here," Steve said, "she was assaulted. If she has a nightmare, sometimes, she can get violent, and I have a hard time waking her up without hurting her. It's getting better."
"And what happens when you have nightmares, Steven? Have you ever hurt her?" Maureen asked quietly.
"Never," Steve said.
Maureen gave him that look again.
"She's learned how to avoid getting punched," Steve admitted.
"My darling boy, it's time to stop pretending you're okay. It might be time to get some help. The both of you. Promise you'll think about it," Maureen said.
"Yes, ma'am," Steve said, glancing down the hallway as Jax came out of the bathroom.
"Now," Maureen said, as she poured three cups of coffee. "What is this nonsense, with Jax sleeping downstairs in a clearly unfamiliar room, waking up from a nightmare without you to comfort her, Steven?" She smiled over the top of her coffee cup as Jax and Steve glanced at each other sheepishly.
"It was my idea, Mrs. Hart," Jax said. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable; I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with . . . you know. It seemed disrespectful, somehow . . . "
"Ah. It seemed disrespectful for you and Steve to have a normal, healthy relationship . . . because Freddie isn't here with Kelly?" Maureen guessed.
"Yes, ma'am," Jax said, studying her coffee.
"I see. Steven, would Freddie have liked Jax, do you think?" Maureen asked.
Steve lit up. "Freddie would have adored Jax," he said. "Don't you think?"
"I do," Maureen agreed. "He would have liked her smile, and her pretty freckles, and he would have teased her about her hair. And you would have had to smack him around a little bit, because despite his faithfulness to his Kelly, Jax is absolutely fetching, and he would have made several inappropriate comments. Am I right?"
Steve laughed. "Yes, ma'am. I would have had to threaten to rat him out to you or Kelly."
"So, my darling children, what part of making yourselves miserable do you think honors Freddie's memory?" Maureen asked gently. "You honor his memory, and the memory of all of those that you've lost, by being as happy as they would want you to be. Yes?"
Steve's arm had wrapped around Jax again, his thumb brushing the edge of the bandage on her arm. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he dropped a kiss into her hair.
"Now, we have several hours before sunrise," Maureen said, gathering up their coffee cups, "and I had the foresight to make decaf. Off to bed, the both of you, and get some more sleep. Or, not," she added, winking at Jax, who blushed furiously.
A few minutes later, Jax was snuggled contentedly next to Steve.
"I told you they wouldn't mind," he whispered, teasing her gently.
"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, her fingers delicately tracing over his intricate tattoos. "Be quiet; we're supposed to be sleeping."
"Or not," Steve whispered. "That was an option, too . . . "
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