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Hello, everyone! Welcome back to another chapter of my second Hawaii Five-O fic! If you haven't already, please check out Boundless as the Sea, my first story. If you're enjoying this one, I think that you'll enjoy that one as well.

Thank you so much to everyone that has read, reviewed, favorited, followed, and private messaged. I really appreciate each and every one of you!

Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the Hawaii Five-O characters, though I certainly wish that I did. All of the OCs are of my own creation. And, similarly to my last Hawaii Five-O story, I will not be following the timeline of the show, nor will I use every single plot that they've introduced. I really only use the characters and a few of the storylines. So, if you're reading something and you think, "no, that can't be right because Steve had already met Catherine" or "but that doesn't make sense because Danny said this in season two…" just know that it does make sense in my own little Hawaii Five-O universe.

Lastly, if you like the chapter, please consider leaving a review! I absolutely love to read your thoughts and opinions. My previous readers also know that I'm more likely to update quickly if I'm getting a lot of reviews, because reviews equal motivation to me. Also consider favoriting and following the story and/or me. Thanks in advance!

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Chapter Ten: Will You…?

Twelve Years Ago

Bailey

I woke up covered in sweat, a scream scratching my throat on its way out. Arms were around me in an instant and I thrashed against their hold, terrified of what they would do to me. And then a deep male voice at my ear… a familiar voice…

"Bailey!" Steve pleaded, holding fast. "Bailey, wake up! It's just a dream. You're okay; you're safe."

The room came into focus then. The green numbers of the digital alarm clock read 3:41. In their dim light, I could just barely make out the book on the nightstand – a book that had been recommended to me by a colleague. I was halfway finished with it. That scent was the carpet powder that I'd used before vacuuming. What Steve was saying to me was true: I was okay; I was safe.

"Just a dream," I sighed and felt all of the tension leave my body at once, leaving me exhausted. "Just a dream."

As I moved into a sitting position, Steve sat up beside me and sighed. "Bailey, why don't you just go and get evaluated?"

My muscles tensed. It was a conversation that he'd tried to start with me several times, and I was always on edge, wondering when he was going to bring it up again. "I don't need to be evaluated."

"You have PTSD."

I'd said those exact words to numerous patients. And I responded exactly how the majority of them did. "No, I don't."

He ticked the symptoms off on his fingers, one by one. "Hypervigilance, social isolation, agitation, severe anxiety, mistrust, insomnia, and nightmares. And those are just the things that I've noticed. You might also be experiencing a loss of interest in formerly pleasurable activities, guilt, and loneliness."

My heart began to pound as tears stabbed at my eyes. "Someone's been doing some research."

Steve nodded. "I have. Denying that you have a problem is also an indicator."

"I don't need to be evaluated."

"You have seven – possibly more – symptoms of a disorder, and you don't want any help?" Steve was incredulous. "I could maybe expect that kind of response from a soldier, but you deal with this kind of stuff every single day on the job. How can you just brush it off knowing what it can do to people?"

"I don't want to talk about this." I stood up and moved around the bed, heading for the door. "Are you hungry?"

Steve followed behind, flipping on lights as he went. "No, Bay, I'm not hungry. It's four in the morning."

"Pancakes," I decided as I made it to the kitchen and flicked on the light. "I'm going to make some pancakes. Do we have any strawberries?"

I went to open the fridge, but Steve slapped his hand down on it and pushed it closed again. "Forget the damn strawberries, Bailey. This is serious."

Though I knew that Steve was easily three times stronger than me, I tried to open the door. Unsurprisingly, it wouldn't budge.

"Bailey."

Still, I tried. If I could just get the door open and find some strawberries, then I could make some pancakes and everything would be okay.

Delusional thinking.

The sobs escaped before I even felt them, and I fell to the floor. Rather, I would have fallen to the floor if Steve's SEAL reflexes weren't so quick. Instead, he scooped me into his arms and held me while I cried. All that I could feel were his arms around me, holding me together while I fell apart.

I cried for Emily, the sweet nurse that hadn't deserved her slow and painful death to exposure.

I cried for myself, for the pain and torture that had nearly taken my life as well.

I cried for the loss of something that I couldn't even quite put my finger on.

Steve held me as my sobs grew quiet, and then turned into shuddering sighs. When at last I was still and quiet, he kissed the top of my head. "Please," he begged me quietly. "Will you get help?"

"Yes."

"Thank God."

We stayed like that for several more minutes, and then he lifted me up as he stood.

"I can walk," I protested, but put my arms around his neck as he carried me towards the bedroom.

"I know. I've seen you do it. And may I just say, you're quite talented at it."

Smiling, I said, "Flatterer."

He set me down on my side of the bed and then slid in beside me, holding me close.

"The lights are still on."

"I know." He smiled gently and brushed a wayward strand of hair out of my face. "I'm probably about to head out for training. You can get in an extra hour of sleep, though."

That sounded like heaven. "I think I'll do that."

"Talk to someone today," he said and leaned in to kiss me. "Okay?"

"Okay." I kissed him again and then smiled guiltily. "You know, couples that have only been dating for a few months don't normally have obstacles this large."

"That's because couples aren't usually as incredible as we are. And normally, relationships don't start on a rescue mission in Asia. During an avalanche."

Hearing it said out loud made me laugh. "It sounds like a movie."

"Don't joke. We could sell the rights and make millions."

"To do that, we'd have to see how the story plays out."

"That's easy." He leaned in and kissed me again, long and slow. "With a happily ever after."

Steve

The front door opened and Bailey called out, "Hey, I'm back."

"Great. How did it go?"

For the last five months, Bailey had been seeing a therapist on Thursdays. She still had a long way to go, but she described it as a journey to healing and said that she was right where she needed to be. Paxil hadn't worked well at all, but the Zoloft that she took daily seemed to be helping. When things got too bad, she had Ativan that she could take, but she hadn't had an episode like that in over two months. She still had nightmares, but she handled them much better and there were some nights that she didn't have them at all.

She came into the kitchen and smiled when she saw me stirring the soup. "You're making dinner?"

"I cook," I said defensively, but her surprise was completely justified. I'd been known to burn grilled cheese. "It's your recipe and I've been following the directions to the letter."

"Ah." She came a bit closer and took an overly dramatic cautious sniff.

I playfully pushed her out of the way.

"Hey!" She laughed and moved to grab a can of Coke from the fridge. "It went fine. I don't think I'll need too many more sessions."

My metaphorical antennas went up. "Why?"

She rolled her eyes at me and popped the top of the aluminum can. "Because I've made a lot of improvement and I think that I can handle it from here. I'll still be meeting with Dr. Cooper every now and then until I decide that I don't need the medication anymore."

"You should go to therapy as long as you need."

"I know. But I don't think that I need it much longer."

I decided not to push it. One of the most endearing – and, in some cases, annoying – traits of hers was stubbornness. But not just any stubbornness. It was on par with my father's, and that was saying something. "Soup's almost ready."

"Okay. I'll set the table."

We worked comfortably together, chatting about our respective days. Living with her was easy, despite our small arguments about where the milk goes in the fridge or if the toilet paper is supposed to go over or under. She hadn't wanted to be alone after everything that had happened, and so she had moved in with me and gotten rid of her apartment.

I could live with her forever.

As the thought crossed my mind, I nearly reeled back in shock. I'd never given too much thought to the whole marriage and family business. I had always assumed that it would just come along when the time was right. But… Bailey had made me start to believe that maybe the time was right. We already lived together and shared nearly everything. Why not officially share a life, too?

"Steve?"

I came out of my train of thought to find her standing at the stove, looking at me curiously. "Sorry. What?"

"Soup's ready."

"Right."

But my mind was as far away from soup as it could be.

I'm going to marry that woman.

Bailey

"Just log in."

I looked at Steve and exclaimed with incredulity, "Just log in?"

Looking confused, he nodded. "Yes, that's what I just said. Log in and see if you passed."

"No." I set the laptop aside and stood, beginning to pace. "God, I'm so nervous. What if I didn't pass?"

"You can take them again, right?"

I didn't miss a step. "Yes, but no one wants to be the person that couldn't pass their boards the first time around."

"Bailey, there's no way that you didn't pass your boards. I don't think I've ever seen anyone study as hard as you did in the weeks leading up to that exam."

True… I'd stayed up late every single night and had been up early every single morning. My notes and flash cards had taken up every single inch of counter space. My stress levels had been through the roof. There was no way that I could have failed after all of that. And yet…

"I can't check. It gives me too much anxiety. Do I still have any Ativan lying around here somewhere?"

"No," he said sternly. "You're not taking any Ativan, because Ativan makes you sleepy. And if you're too sleepy, you won't feel like going out and celebrating, which we are going to do because you passed your boards. Now just log in and make it official."

With a sigh, I plopped down onto the sofa and picked up my laptop. Heart pounding in my chest, I typed in all of the appropriate information and then waited as it loaded. But, when the appropriate screen came up, I found myself unable to look at it.

I shoved the laptop at Steve. "I can't look at it." I stood and moved for the kitchen. "I feel like I'm going to pass out."

"Bailey-"

I cut him off. "I don't want to know, okay? I'll check it later."

"But Bailey-"

"Are we out of Coke? I don't see any in the fridge."

"Bailey!" Steve cut me off and I turned to see him grinning at me. "You passed."

Suddenly elated, I squealed, "I did?!"

"You did." He set the laptop aside, still grinning. "Congratulations."

I threw my hands up into the air like some college kid instead of an accomplished doctor. "No more residency!"

"Not to brag, but I told you so." Steve laughed. "Now, go get dressed and figure out where you want to go to celebrate."

An hour later, we were at my favorite Italian restaurant, munching on breadsticks and sipping on sangrias. It was a weeknight, so we hadn't had to wait at all, and it wasn't overly crowded. Conversation was flowing smoothly. Everything felt absolutely perfect.

"What now?" Steve asked me once our entrées had arrived. "Are you going to stay with the Navy?"

"I considered leaving, after everything." I thoughtfully studied my pasta. "But military psychiatry is where my passion is, and I want to pursue that. So, yes, I think I'm going to stay with the Navy and turn down the offer from the civilian hospital."

His smile told me exactly what he thought of that plan before his words did. "That's great. I know that we've talked about it a few times, but I still wasn't sure exactly where you stood on it. I'm glad that you've officially decided to stay."

"Yeah, well, I also think that the consistency will be good for me. Routine, patterns… it'll be good for my recovery. And… you know…" I found myself unable to finish, a heat creeping up my neck and to my cheeks.

It wasn't as though Steve and I hadn't said "I love you" to each other. We'd said it very early on in our relationship, our mutual traumatic experience having pushed us closer than most couples have a hope of being in the beginning. There's something to be said about sharing a trauma and being together on the journey to healing from it.

"What do I know?" Steve had picked up on the nervous undertone in my voice. Steve picked up on nearly everything. In the early months, I had chalked it up to his SEAL training, but now I knew that we just had a connection. A connection that not everybody was fortunate enough to find and that plenty of people wished for.

I met his eyes and took a deep breath. "A lot of the decision had to do with you."

"With me."

It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I confirmed. "With you. I didn't want to be too far away from you, and I know that you don't have a desire to leave the SEALs anytime soon. So, we'll stick it out in Virginia until you're done with Team Six, and then we'll go wherever we want."

"Together."

My heart started to beat a little faster as a dismal thought occurred to me. "Unless… unless you don't want to make plans like that. I mean, planning so far into the future. That might have been a little much. I…" Fully aware that I was rambling, I was so grateful when he took my hand and stopped me from continuing.

"Will you…"

"Stop talking?" I guessed.

"Stop interrupting," he corrected me, but softened it with a small smile.

My blush intensified. "I'm sorry."

"Will you marry me?"

He could have asked me to chop off my own hand and I wouldn't have been any more shocked. My mouth fell open and I lost all ability to speak. The gears in my brain were whirring at high speed, making it difficult to concentrate.

On the one hand, marriage was scary. My parents had divorced when I was seven and all of my memories of their marriage were horrible. If you married someone and ended up married to the wrong person, it could do damage that would take years to repair. I'd seen it in plenty of my clients that struggled with depression or anxiety after a failed marriage.

On the other hand… Steve wasn't the wrong person. I was so certain of this that I was a bit startled at my own conclusion. I had always promised myself that I would be extremely picky about the man that I was going to marry, because I did not want to end up in a marriage like my parents'. And Steve… Steve was everything that I had ever wanted. He had his flaws, sure, but so did I.

And after surviving an avalanche and an attack with gunfire, I was certain that we could handle anything else that life had to throw at us.

"Bailey?"

Steve looked a bit nervous, and I absentmindedly wondered how long I had been frozen like that, my hand in his.

Smiling to reassure him, I asked, "Is there a ring?"

Relief flooded his features and he laughed. "Yes, yes, there's a ring. Not here, though. I bought it a few weeks ago and I wasn't actually planning to propose tonight, so…" He shrugged sheepishly. "Do you think that maybe we can just do this all again tonight back at the apartment?"

I squeezed his hand. "No way. As far as I'm concerned, we're engaged – ring or no ring."

His brown eyes were practically glowing with joy. "Excellent."

"In fact…" The warm, bubbly feeling was overwhelming me. "Let's skip the long engagement period, why don't we? Let's just get married. We can go to the courthouse tomorrow?"

Surprised, he asked, "Here?"

"Or anywhere in the US." The possibilities ran through my brain so fast that I could hardly keep up. "Vegas, NYC, Hawaii… hell, I don't care. Where do you want to go?"

Suddenly grinning, Steve looked at his watch. "It's too late to go right now, but we can fly out first thing in the morning."

No longer hungry, I shoved my plate of pasta away and stood. "Then we should go and pack."