A/N: The Jersey universe started a year ago with a vague notion of a h/c story with a feisty but damaged former rookie of Danny's and a protective and intrigued Steve . . . and some of you are still reading. I'm honored, and humbled. Your feedback has encouraged me and continues to influence the story line. Thank you.

#*#*#*#*#

"Of course, I'll take you with me," Jax said quickly. "Does Danny know?"

"No, I haven't mentioned . . . can we not, until I know?" Rachel asked in a low voice.

"I'm not saying a word," Jax said. "Will he be suspicious that you're going out with me? I'll be gone a good part of the day, is that okay? Shit, do you feel okay? Are you sick?"

Rachel smiled and grabbed Jax by the shoulder. "Oh my gracious, breathe. I'm fine." She turned to Danny who was still on the other side of the kitchen, pouring cereal and milk for Grace.

"Daniel," she said, "I was thinking - why don't I let you and Grace have the day with your folks, and I'll accompany Jax into the city."

"Rach, is - did something come up?" Danny asked, his brow furrowed in concern. He glanced toward the stairs. "Did someone say something?" His family was fiercely loyal, and while he knew that eventually they would come around and welcome Rachel - well, her British reserve hadn't exactly won them over the first time, and that was before she'd left him and moved their granddaughter to Hawaii.

"No, I just thought it would be a good opportunity; I know you're here for work, and I do miss the city. Plus," she added, going for the perfect distraction, "I thought it would be nice for Jacqueline not to have to wander around alone. In the city."

Danny lit up. "Yeah, that's a great idea," he said.

"Oh, well-played," Jax grumbled under her breath.

"It's settled then," Rachel said. "I'll go finished getting dressed."

"Well, don't wear anything nice, or flashy. No jewelry. Carry a wallet, but not a purse," Jax said. "Danny, can you give us a ride to the Hoboken light rail station? I don't feel like fighting traffic."

"Hoboken?" Rachel asked.

"It's the closest," Jax said, shrugging. "Besides, there's those pretzels there than Danny loves."

"Pretzels!" Gracie agreed.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve had made the bed, finished the laundry, swept the kitchen, and dealt with the garbage.

And the kitty litter. Pupule had nodded a dignified approval and then immediately availed himself of his clean facilities.

"You're a little bit of an asshole, you know that, right?" Steve said, looming over the cat, who gave no indication whatsoever of being intimidated.

"Mowwwr," Pupule agreed.

Steve glanced at the clock and sighed. One thing to be said for living alone - there was certainly no reason to linger in bed in the mornings. Nope. It was easy to be up and at it, ready to swim or run by zero five thirty. Alone. No distractions. Something to be said for that, really. Allowed for discipline, training, improving fitness and endurance. There was a time when he couldn't have imagined life any other way.

"God, I had no idea what I was missing," he informed Pupule.

#*#*#*#*#

Rachel's eyes had widened a bit when Jax clipped on her badge and Sig before they left the house.

"It's Hoboken," Danny said, shrugging. "Relax, Rach. She's Five-O. You're as safe with her as you would be with me."

Rachel arched an eyebrow at him. That was a bit of a loaded statement, though Danny didn't know all the reasons why at the moment.

"I'll bring her back safe and sound, I promise," Jax said, winking at Gracie.

They boarded the light rail. The morning commuters were already well on their way, and the Hoboken station wasn't one for tourists, so it was lightly scattered with locals who were headed to appointments or errands in the city. The few that took note of Jax's service weapon simply nodded politely.

"So, obviously, we'll find a drugstore for you," Jax said, as she and Rachel settled into a seat. "Are you okay with this? I mean, if you're pregnant?"

"I don't know," Rachel said, twisting her gloves nervously. Her sister-in-law's gloves, actually; Clara had suggested that they just help themselves to winter gear from the well-appointed coat closet, rather than trying to find and pack heavy clothes and sweaters. "It largely depends on Daniel's response."

"Are you kidding?" Jax said. "Danny will be beside himself happy about this, Rachel, I swear he will. You know how much he loves being a dad. He gave up his whole life, moved halfway around the world for Gracie."

"I know," Rachel said softly.

"Shit, Rachel, I'm sorry, I didn't -"

"No, Jacqueline, you're entirely correct. I like to think that he's very happy now, of course, but it was inexcusable, what I did to him. Selfish. I don't offer any justification," Rachel said.

"Were you lonely?" Jax asked. "You're not making excuses for yourself, Rachel, but being married to a cop - I know it isn't easy. It still isn't easy. Five-O is . . . what we do, it's hard. That hasn't changed."

"I understand that now," Rachel said. "And yes, I was lonely, then. I didn't fit in with the other officer's wives . . . or, at least, I didn't want to let myself. And, to be honest, I was jealous."

"Of Grace Tilwell?" Jax guessed.

"Of Grace, and you, at first," Rachel admitted. "They kept partnering Danny with these beautiful women . . ."

"They partnered Grace with Danny because she was the only person around who could keep up with him, really. Danny has these . . . insights. Leaps of intuition. Ways of connecting dots that . . . well, you have to think fast to even follow his line of thinking. He's good, Rachel. He is really, really good at what he does," Jax said earnestly. "I'm not sure anyone ever really explained that to you, back then, and they should have."

"And that is why they assigned you to them as well?" Rachel said. "These 'leaps of intuition'?"

"Oh, hell no," Jax said. "I would never make detective. No, they assigned me to Grace - female officer trainees had to work with at least one female training officer. I got incredibly lucky and got assigned to Danny and Grace."

"You were at Ground Zero that day . . . when Grace was killed . . ." Rachel hesitated. "Jax, I'm sorry. It's probably not something you want to discuss."

"Not today, no," Jax said, a bit tensely, "but it's okay. I'm talking about it now in - You know. With a person. At Pearl."

"I'm glad," Rachel said simply. "So, tell me about this errand you are on today. I do hope that I'm not a terrible imposition. I just couldn't - absolutely couldn't fathom sitting about the house all day, with Danny's family, especially not knowing . . . and there's no way in bloody hell I was going to ask his sister for a lift to the pharmacy."

Jax laughed. "I understand. His sisters are intimidating. And the hugging."

"Oh, my God in heaven, the hugging," Rachel agreed. "It's excessive."

"I've been hugged more by Danny's parents than I was by my own," Jax said absently, laughing. "Yeah, way excessive. But they mean well."

"Yes, they do," Rachel said, looking at Jax a bit sadly.

"Oh, so my errand," Jax said, a little self-consciously. "I'm going to get a tattoo. A modification of a current tattoo, actually. It's a gift for Steve. Which, I know, sounds really backwards, but I really think - and I talked to Chin, and he said definitely, Steve would get it, and he would love it, so . . . yeah. That's where I'm going. So, we should stop somewhere that you can get a book or something, because you'll probably be bored. And the place - okay, it's super clean, because, eww, otherwise, but it's a little . . . well. I hope it doesn't offend your delicate sensibilities."

Rachel gave a decidedly indelicate snort.

"What?" Jax asked, amused.

"I thought officers discussed their intimate lives and such," Rachel said. "Apparently not, if you think I have delicate sensibilities."

Jax gaped at her, speechless.

"Really?" Rachel arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow at Jax. "Is it the accent? It's the accent. People always assume Brits are cold fish in the sack. Well, I suppose it's nice that Daniel was a gentleman, really, I didn't expect otherwise, especially with two female officers. Pity though, you might have picked up a few tips."

"I've got nothing," Jax said, shaking her head. "I have no response to this, other than to insist that you're coming to girls night with me and Kono from now on. I don't know whether to be intrigued or alarmed. And I'm oddly proud of Danny."

Rachel laughed loudly enough to earn a few disapproving stares from their fellow passengers.

#*#*#*#*#

Danny had Gracie settled with his folks in the kitchen; Clara had an enthusiastic sous chef on her hands in prepping the sauce for dinner. He set up his lap-top in the living room, with the dozen applications they had earmarked for the first round of interviews the following day.

The Martinez application mocked him, the edge sticking out from where he'd hastily shoved it out of Jax's sight.

Sighing, he checked his watch, mentally subtracted five, and then picked up the phone and called Steve.

#*#*#*#*#

"Danny?" Steve said.

"Hey, partner, glad I didn't wake you. I know it's early there."

"Nah, I was just getting ready to go swim. It's almost light," Steve said. "What's going on? I haven't heard from Jax. Got a kind of weird text from her."

"Steve, ultimately, who's in charge of this whole interview process? Choosing, training. The whole sheebang."

"Danny, what?"

"Just - who's in charge? Who do Jax and I answer to on this?"

"Me, but what's that got to-"

"Okay," Danny interrupted, "now that we've cleared that up, there's something I should tell you, as the leader of Five-O and the person responsible for this current assignment for selection of additional task force personnel."

"This is weird, Danny."

"You have no idea. I'm telling you, the person in charge, and not my buddy or Jax's significant other, that I am holding in my hand an application from one Officer Martinez, NYPD."

Silence.

"Steve, buddy, you okay?"

"Thought you weren't telling your buddy," Steve said, his voice strained.

"Yeah, well, I could try that but we both know it's bullshit, and I'm just building my case for when Jax finds out I told you and goes to tear me a new one," Danny sighed. "He fucking applied for the task force, Steve. After what he did . . ."

"How is he still on the force, Danny?" Steve yelled. "Do we even want a task force there? Is this the kind of corruption and jackassery I can expect to try to work with?"

"Steve," Danny said wearily, "I talked to O'Connell. She didn't - okay, everyone can read between the lines and there's an unspoken understanding, a - what is that word you use -"

"Scuttlebutt," Steve provided.

"Yeah, that," Danny said. "But she didn't file charges. It's been established that of the three goons that jumped her, by the time . . . when it really went bad, okay, Jackson was out cold. She'd incapacitated him completely. Other than Jax, the only two people who really knew what happened that night were O'Neil and Martinez. She didn't file any charges, she didn't report them officially . . . she went to the hospital, checked out AMA, and then came to us."

"But Danny, O'Neil - when he was holding you, in the elevator - he as much as made a full confession," Steve argued. "He named Martinez. Damn it, Danny, he said Martinez was the one who pulled a knife on her. She had seventeen stitches, Danny. I took them out myself."

"I know, Steve."

"And then, in the Valerie Keon case, when we were tracking Lassiter; she remembered, Danny - she remembered Martinez restraining her . . . "

"I know."

"Did she see the application? Please tell me she didn't - no, of course she did. That's why she's avoiding talking to me now, isn't it," Steve said, sighing. "How did this even happen?"

"O'Connell doesn't think it's been announced who, exactly, is in charge of setting up the task force - thinks Martinez probably read about the new unit being set up, went for it because it looks like a way to operate beyond the law," Danny said. "And yes, you know our girl - denial and avoidance. She as much as acknowledged to me this morning that's her plan of attack for this - didn't even pretend otherwise."

"Jesus, Danny, I can not believe this shit," Steve said. He was pacing in the kitchen now, Pupule watching his every move; his cream head, surrounded by a full mane, swiveling back and forth. "We can't just let this go, Danny."

"I agree," Danny said. "O'Connell has offered to help, or to keep Jax busy while we deal with Martinez, off the record."

"O'Connell is a good man," Steve said seriously.

"Steve, I don't think he was joking," Danny said.

"Neither am I," Steve said. "O'Neil died quick; he didn't deserve it. Martinez goes slow. I'm getting the first flight out. Don't do anything until I get there."

"Okay, Steve, listen to me. You have at least ten hours to process this and cool down a little bit; this is why, my friend, I am risking Jax cutting off my balls and shoving them down my throat by calling you without telling her," Danny said.

"Where is Jax now?" Steve demanded.

"She went into the city," Danny said. "Took Rachel with her," he added hastily, "along with her gun and badge. She's okay, Steve, I swear. You know I would not stand back and do nothing if she was spinning out. She doesn't want to talk about it, but she's okay otherwise. And Rachel has a good head on her shoulders, and at least an inkling of Jax's backstory. She'll call me if anything goes sideways."

"Good, good," Steve muttered. He was in their bedroom now, Pupule sitting on the bed and watching as he efficiently packed a suitcase. "Look, I'll meet up with you at the hotel tonight; send me the details. I'm going to head to Hickam, try to get a fast flight over."

"I'll do you one better," Danny said. "You send me your flight into and I'll ask O'Connell to pick you up; seems he's been assigned as our NYPD liaison, since most of our applicants come from NYPD. He'll be able to get you to us easily."

"Sounds good," Steve agreed quickly, which concerned Danny.

"Steve. Steven. Do not - " Danny demanded. "I have some ideas . . . I'm making some calls. Just . . . okay, you needed to know but this is one time I'm glad that it's nine hours in the air between Honolulu and New York."

"Yeah, Danny," Steve said absently. "See you soon."

#*#*#*#*#

Rachel held up her pharmacy bag triumphantly. "Three tests, three different brands, just to be safe," she said. "And also, a novel to read while you, um, are busy."

Jax peeked at the title of the novel. "Really?" she said, raising her eyebrows at the racy cover.

Rachel sighed. "Honestly, do you think that just because I'm British I read Jane Austen all the time?"

They decided on lunch first, because Jax's appointment would take a while, and Rachel was a bit 'peckish', which would lead quickly to queasy, and just . . .no. That wouldn't do.

"So, I don't personally have ink," Rachel said, as she sipped her tea, "but I do understand that it can be a very private and meaningful thing. I truly am sorry, Jax, if I imposed by coming along today. I was only thinking of getting out of that house."

"It's okay," Jax said, "If I was having it done in Honolulu, I probably would have taken Kono with me. I just never imagined that you would be comfortable or remotely interested. And no, it's not because of your accent - which, by the way, we all think is lovely."

"I'm not necessarily interested in getting a tattoo myself," Rachel said, "but I see the appeal. Danny, you know, has the small . . ." she pointed to the base of each thumb. "And then Steve's work . . ." she sighed. "It's . . . impressive."

"You can say it," Jax said, grinning.

"Okay, I may have had the curious urge to lick his biceps at Thanksgiving," Rachel blurted out. "But in my defense, that was my first clue that I was preggers. The hormones, as I recall, make me a bit poshy."

#*#*#*#*#

"Hey, Marcus," Jax greeted the mild-looking man in horn-rimmed glasses as they entered the shop, simply marked "InkWell" on the door.

"Baby girl," Marcus said, shaking his head and wrapping her in a big hug. "It's been a while. Good to see you."

"Marcus, you remember my training officer, Danny? This is his . . . Rachel," Jax said, realizing at the last minute that Rachel and Danny weren't technically married.

"Rachel, lovely," Marcus said. "Are you getting some work done today?"

"Hmm, not today, thank you," Rachel said, looking around the shop.

"Rachel came into the city with me today, to give Danny and their little girl some time with the grandparents," Jax explained. "Can you set her up with a comfy chair, maybe a place to put her feet up? I know this will take a while."

"Got you covered," Marcus said. "Follow me." He led the way into the back of the shop, and pointed out a comfortable booth for Rachel. "There you go - reclining chair, water cooler is over there, coffee in the back. Just yell for me if you need anything, okay?"

Rachel nodded nervously.

"Rachel, you're safe as houses in here," Jax assured her. "Marcus has CCTV security and he monitors it from his booth. He sees anything off, he lets me know, and I've got it. Okay?"

"Of course," Rachel said, looking embarrassed.

"Hey," Marcus said, "being cautious is being alive. No shame in that."

He and Jax continued to his booth, where he pulled out several sheets of paper. "I've messed with the font a little more since that last image I sent to you. You got it, right? You had me using someone else's email."

"My friend Chin, yeah," Jax said. "I didn't want Steve to stumble on it, ruin the surprise. And Chin's known Steve the longest. I wanted to be sure it wasn't lame or stupid."

"From what you told me of the story, I think it's perfect," Marcus said. "Here, what do you think of this?" He presented Jax with a sketch.

She traced her fingers over it reverently. "It's perfect," she said. "Absolutely perfect."

"Good," Marcus said, smiling. "I'm glad you like it. Okay, let's go for it." He stepped back, clearly expecting Jax to drop her pants and hop up on the table.

She hesitated. It had never crossed her mind that this part would make her nervous. Granted, Marcus had done the work on her one and only tattoo a decade ago, but she'd hung out in his shop long before and long after - during her racing days, Marcus did all of the racers' ink; and then after, in her NYPD days, as she'd bounced from one department to another, she'd continued to hang out in the shop, offering a sort of unofficial security presence - and finding a different kind of security in return.

"Oh, baby girl," he sighed. "Damn it, I'd hoped the word on the street was exaggerated. You want me to go get your friend? Would you be more comfortable if she was back here?"

"No," Jax said. "I'm fine, I . . . it's fine, Marcus." He silently handed her a pristine white, crisply folded sheet that smelled of sunshine.

"I'm gonna get a cup of coffee," he said gently. "I'll be back in just a minute. Make yourself comfortable."

Jax nodded and swallowed against a rush of tears - from frustration at no longer being fearless and confident in her own skin, or at his kindness, she wasn't sure. She unbuttoned her cargo pants and pushed them down to mid-thigh, then slid easily onto the reclining chair and draped the sheet over her lap.

"Are you comfortable, lovely friend Rachel?" she heard Marcus asked as he came back toward the booth, and smiled at Rachel's cheery reply.

"Hey, sweetie," Marcus said as he came back in. Jax noticed there was no coffee in his hand and remembered that he didn't even drink coffee; it was there for customers waiting.

"I'm sorry, Marcus," she sighed. "Thanks for, you know."

He laid out his equipment neatly, slipping on gloves. "You're welcome," he said quietly, nodding at her. "This okay?" he asked, putting a hand carefully on the sheet.

"Yeah, I'm fine, really and truly," she assured him.

"Okay, if at any point you're less than fine, you tell me, yeah?"

She nodded.

"This still looks awesome," Marcus said, looking at the simple stylized tattoo he'd placed about ten years before. "Damn, I do good work. Yeah, our sketch will work perfectly. You're so ridiculously the same size you were at nineteen . . . there's no shifting, no alteration. More color though. You're gonna need to keep sunscreen on the new ink, no cheating, no forgetting."

"I will," Jax promised.

Marcus traced a finger over the scar on her hip, revealed above the skimpy bikini underwear she'd worn to give him access to the tattoo. "This isn't good work," he chided. "They let some intern practice on you?"

"I may have been a little impatient in recovery on that one," she mumbled.

Marcus was an expert on skin. "Looks to have happened about . . . oh, I don't know. About the time you left New York suddenly, headed to Hawaii," he said, as he picked up the tattoo gun.

"Yeah," Jax said, but didn't offer any more information.

"Okay, relax, settle in," Marcus said, as he started to work. "This is going to take longer than the last one, but you'll be fine. Give it a few and the endorphins will kick in, you little adrenaline junky."

Jax closed her eyes and relaxed . . . compared to her injuries received on duty, the pain of the tattoo gun was superficial and relatively easy to ignore. Something else was nagging at her, though.

"Marcus?"

He paused his work. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, keep going," she said. "You said something about word on the street. And you'd hoped it was exaggerated. What did you mean?"

He finished a perfect line of ink and took a moment to wipe the area, examining his work carefully.

"NYPD boys get a lot of work done here," he said after a moment. "Rumors were flying when you left."

"Alien abduction, unplanned pregnancy, tapped for the CIA?" Jax quipped.

Marcus chuckled. "Heard the one about the unplanned pregnancy a few times," he said.

"Yeah? Who was pegged as the father?"

"Your friend O'Connell."

"That's adorable," Jax said. "He doesn't even pretend to be straight."

"If he did, that's when people wouldn't believe him," Marcus agreed. "Funny how that works. But what really kept going around was that you got taken down hard by a few of your own."

Jax was silent.

Marcus moved on to another section of the piece. "I dismissed it at first, but it kept coming around. Variations on a theme. Then I heard that you came back, with Danny. For some hearing, where someone ended up dead."

Jax squeezed her eyes closed, images of that day returning unbidden to her mind. She let the pain of the tattoo gun, the staccato beat of it, ground her and keep her in the present.

"Heard there was a lot of suspicion, but not a lot of fact to go on. Not a single eyewitness left to what happened, except you, of course, and whoever was responsible for this scar. Among other things," Marcus said quietly. "Always a couple of bad apples in the bunch, think that sort of thing makes for small talk. Ugly talk. Then a good apple like O'Connell hears the ugly talk and that's when a couple people get hurt."

"Shit, Patrick," Jax sighed.

"But mostly," Marcus continued, "mostly there's a whole lotta silence. But the thing about silence is, it's like the old song. It's like a cancer, and it grows. I understand the appeal. I like the quiet, I do. It's comfortable. But there's a difference between quiet, and silence. Quiet . . . that's peace, you know? I bet it's quiet where you live now. Just the waves."

Jax nodded.

"Silence . . . that's different, baby. Silence is like a blanket. You think you're hiding underneath it, but what it's doing, really, it's suffocating you. Other people, bad people . . . walking around proud and free on top of the blanket. Maybe hurting other people, like they hurt the person they put hiding underneath them. Silence protects the wrong people, leaves innocent people in the wrong hands," Marcus mused. "Of course, I spend a lot of time inhaling ink. Maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. Maybe I do. But one thing for sure, I don't live in Hawaii, and you can't wait another ten years for me to exhale some of my ink-wisdom at you. And another thing for sure, this scar here? It doesn't look like it healed well to me. Looks to me like it's still causing you a lot of hurt. I'm just reading your skin, baby girl. You think on it, yeah?"

Jax nodded again.

"Okay, my work here is done," Marcus said. He studied the finished product. "It's elegant. And fierce. Just like you. Remember the drill? Bandage stays on for a few hours, then air, liquid soap and water, and aquaphor."

He held a mirror so Jax could get a right-side-up - if still backwards - view of the new ink. She nodded, smiling at him.

"Speechless is good?" Marcus said, reaching for the bandage.

"Speechless is good," Jax confirmed. "Thank you. For the ink, and the metaphors."

#*#*#*#*#

It didn't take Danny long at all to schedule the official interviews for the new task force; the applicants were thrilled to be in the first round and had no problem making time in their schedules.

That settled, Danny turned his attention to another matter. Emails were exchanged, calls were made and returned . . . finally, Danny had as much in place as he could. He made his final phone call, relieved that he'd somehow managed to pull it off before getting word to come pick up Jax and Rachel at the rail station.

"O'Connell," Danny said, sitting back in the chair. "I've got all the answers on everything I was looking for . . . tell me you found what we need."

"I've got it, Danny," Patrick said grimly. "We've got everything."

#*#*#*#*#

They left a jet-lagged Gracie sound asleep at her grandparents house, and Danny, Rachel, and Jax made the drive to the hotel. It would put Danny and Jax within walking distance of the NYPD precinct where they'd arranged to meet with the first dozen candidates.

"Babe, want to come to dinner with me and Rachel?" Danny offered, as they were checking in.

"No, thanks so much, Danny, but I'm exhausted," Jax said. "I'm just going to crash."

And not wear pants. Not wearing pants is so very important, she added silently, willing herself not to fidget with the new ink, which was feeling a bit fidgety.

"Then I'm going to risk great personal injury and give you a heads up, because I don't want you to shoot anyone - Steve is about an hour away," Danny said.

"Danny," Jax gritted.

"Look. They didn't catch a case, he decided to come one day early," Danny said.

"You told him about about . . . the application."

"Yes."

"Danny."

Resigned, not angry, Danny noted. Progress.

"Look, babe, this isn't just going to go away. The application forced our hand. You don't have to deal with it, if you don't want to, but it's there. It has to be answered," Danny said. "Just - hey, look forward to an extra night together, okay? Did you get that gift taken care of?"

Jax nodded and grinned. "It's not quite ready but I guess it'll have to do now, won't it?"

"There ya go," Danny said. He kissed her on the top of the head. "It's gonna be okay, babe."

#*#*#*#*#

Jax groaned in relief as she shed her cargo pants and took the bandage off the tattoo. She felt better immediately. A quick shower, a gentle application of Aquaphor, and she was set. Too exhausted to consider other options, she slipped into the old Coronado Naval Base t-shirt of Steve's that she'd packed, and decided it wouldn't hurt to close her eyes for just a moment.

Forty-five minutes later, her phone was buzzing frantically.

"O'Connell . . . " Jax mumbled, grabbing her phone to read the text message.

I just picked up your SEAL at Newark. Holy shit.

Jax chuckled. Steve did have a tendency to make a positive impression. She typed a response.

You approve?

No wonder you didn't come back.

I got a better job in Hawaii.

No shit. I would work under him. And yes I mean that in every cliched way possible.

Patrick. Are you seriously perving on my boyfriend who is also my boss?

I am. I absolutely am.

Down boy.

Are you sure about him? Because I would totally ship him with Danny.

You are insane.

No, I have a name for it and everything: McDanno.

Seriously, Patrick.

I'm sorry. It's the all-ness of him. You should have warned me.

I'm warning you now: don't touch. Also, don't you dare go with him to visit Martinez or any such idiocy.

You just eliminated the two things I most wanted to do with my life tonight but okay.

What's your ETA?

Oh. I'm in the hotel parking lot. His ETA is probably, like, now. What are you wearing?

Goodnight, Patrick.

Jax chuckled and put her phone on the nightstand just as she heard a soft knock on the door. She padded over and checked the peephole to make sure it was Steve, then opened the door carefully, mindful of the fact that she was wearing only bikini panties under Steve's t-shirt.

"Hey," she said, poking her head around the edge of the door and grinning up at him.

"Hey," he replied, smiling that slow, soft smile that always made her knees feel funny and shaky. It would have been annoying except for how it absolutely wasn't. He stepped inside the door, closing it behind him and carelessly tossing his bag toward the general direction of the closet. His long arms reached for her and pulled her to his chest, burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply. "You're not mad that I came early?"

She flinched just a bit as his rough cargo pants brushed against her freshly inked skin, and he froze.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"You are here early, and thus your Christmas gift is still a little tender," she said, backing away from him just a bit.

"Hunh?" he said.

There's all of that Naval Intelligence training put to work, his brain offered. Nice.

Jax backed up another step and raised the hem of the t-shirt. She was suddenly convinced that this was a bad idea; the worst idea, in fact, in the history of ideas. Chin probably hated her; had always hated her, and this was his way of getting her out of the picture . . . convincing her to get a completely inappropriate, probably hurtful, possibly offensive -

"Oh my God, Jax," Steve was murmuring. He was on his knees in front of her, his fingers hovering over the fresh design.

"Is it terrible?" she asked, covering her eyes with her hands. "Do you hate it?"

He reached up and gently pulled her hands away from her face. "Jax, it's absolutely perfect." He held her hands in his, but didn't take his eyes away from the new design. As if it had been there all along, the phrase Five O now appeared - not covering the digits of 3, 6, and 1, that represented the firehouse of her brother and her first love, but integrated into one, seamless design of letters and numbers.

"This is . . . my dad, and the team, and now you, it's . . . God, Jax, it's all the best things, all the best things about my life," he murmured.

"Is that okay? I talked to Chin, he said that he thought your dad would be honored, but . . . Steve, if it's not okay - I should have asked, but I wanted it to be a surprise, and Chin seemed so sure -"

"Jax, ku'uipo, Chin was absolutely right. My dad would be so honored. I'm so honored . . . it's with the boys' numbers . . . Billy and Jake's firehouse number, Jax, I can't even tell you . . . "

"They would love you as much as I do, Steve," Jax said.

Steve shook his head in amazement. "The lettering, even . . . it's . . . "

"The same font they use on the USS Enterprise," she said softly. "I looked it up, and Stephanie said it didn't violate any protocol or anything to use it."

"It doesn't," Steve said, nodding, "and it's . . . wow."

The primal, alpha part of Steve's brain had already been put on high alert by his conversations with Danny and O'Connell earlier in the day, and now, his hand hovering around the unmistakable evidence that this amazing woman was willingly declaring herself his . . .

Well. It was good that the Navy had taught him all sorts of things about control and how to appropriately channel that part of his psyche.

"Speechless is good?" Jax asked.

"Speechless is so much better than good, it's . . . wow," Steve said. "Listen, I'm going to shower nine hours of flight off of me. Give me three minutes. Or less."

True to his word, Steve was back in moments, his hair damp, and smelling deliciously of woodsy hotel soap and clean linen towels. He knew he still had a smile on his face that bordered on goofy.

"You really do like it," Jax said, beaming up at him from where she was sitting cross-legged in her nest of soft hotel linens, a stack of application files next to her on the bed. She watched as his smile turned less goofy and more laser-focused. "Oh," she breathed. "You really like it . . . "

He placed the files deliberately on the table and then all thought of applications and task forces were obliterated as he proceeded to demonstrate exactly how much he truly, completely, absolutely loved the gift . . .

#*#*#*#*#

It was just before dawn when Steve found Danny waiting in front of the elevator; the rest of the hall still silent and still. They grinned at each other as the doors opened with a subdued ding, and stepped in.

"Your hair is looking a bit worse for the wear, there, Danny," Steve quipped, as he pressed the button for the lobby floor. "Good night?"

"Oh, no, you first, Super SEAL," Danny said. "Because the smugness is bordering on pathological with you this morning."

"Jax got a new tat," Steve said, smiling. "Very specific, very meaningful. For me. Jax got ink."

"That's fantastic," Danny said. "Rachel got pregnant."

"She - Danny - you -" Steve stammered.

"Rachel and I are having another baby," Danny said slowly, testing it out, a smile spreading across his face. "A baby."

"Shit, Danny, that's amazing," Steve said, and grabbed Danny in a rough hug, clapping him solidly on the back. "She okay? She's feeling okay?"

"Yeah, a little queasy if she lets herself get too hungry, thus I am on a mission to find the continental breakfast and bring back food," Danny said. "It feels very hunter-gathery. I like it."

Steve laughed as the elevator deposited them at the lobby. "I'm on a mission for good coffee," he said. "Bonus points if I'm back before Jax is out of the shower."

"Good thing she doesn't believe in Navy showers," Danny said, as they found their way toward the generous counter of food. He found a pastry that he thought would appeal to Rachel, and turned in search of tea.

Steve was filling three of the largest cups he could find with the rich, fragrant coffee.

"O'Connell filled you in on our thoughts for Martinez last night?" Danny asked.

"Yeah," Steve sighed. "It's a good plan. You did good, Danno. I still like O'Connell's original idea better. Seriously, Danny. I could do it alone. I know what I'm doing. They'd never find the body."

Danny remembered a time, before Steve McGarrett had turned his life inside out and upside down, when he would have assumed such a statement to be a humorous exaggeration. Now, he took it for what it was: a simple declaration of truth.

"What is it like, inside your head?" Danny asked. Not sarcastic this time, no biting Jersey humor. Sincere . . . fond, even.

"What do you mean, Danny?" Steve asked, his face open, the way only his close friends got to see.

"I mean, I've watched you building sandcastles with my baby girl, and I've watched you comfort Jax after a bad day . . . hell, now I've witnessed you cuddling a cat," Danny said. "And yet, there's this whole other side of you . . . I know you could grab Martinez, hand down God knows whatever justice your mind could conjure up, dispose of the body and evidence, and be back here in time for breakfast. Without breaking a sweat. And it wouldn't be anywhere near the first time. What is is like, living with that inside your head?"

"Well, I'm in therapy, Danny," Steve said seriously.

"None of us say it enough, Steve," Danny said, equally serious, "but thank you. For your service. I mean that sincerely."

Steve smiled at Danny as the elevator dinged at their floor. "Thank you for being my friend, Danno," he said. "And hey - " he tossed back over his shoulder as he headed down the hall. "Congratulations."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve fumbled with the three coffees and the key card, but managed to get the door open.

"Jax?" he called softly. The sound of running water had stopped, but there were tendrils of steam coming from the bathroom, so he headed in that direction. "You okay?" he asked, knocking gently on the bathroom door.

"Ummhmm," she replied absently. "Is there coffee?"

"Yeah, there's coffee," he assured her, opening the door carefully. She was standing in front of the mirror, her HPD t-shirt hitched up on the side.

He grinned, assuming she was checking out the new ink, but then noticed that her fingers were tracing higher, over the scar on her hip. He placed a coffee on the counter in front of her, then stepping close behind her, he wrapped one arm around her waist, and settled his other hand over hers, linking their fingers and tracing over the scar along with her.

"Ink looks great," he whispered. "But that's not what you're looking at. Why?"

"You know, in Hawaii, there are surfing gurus? Like Mammo."

Steve smiled. "Yeah."

"In New York, I had a . . . an ink guru, I guess you would say." She paused, and seemed to shift gears abruptly. "Do you think Martinez has gone after anyone else? You know, since . . . " she asked quietly.

"We can find out," he said.

"Hmm. We can check records. There's a difference," she said.

"That's true," he answered, nodding. "Yes. I think he's probably hurt other people; before and after you. People like that . . . there's usually a pattern."

"So, it could be my fault if someone else has been hurt since."

"Jax," Steve sighed.

"He applied for the task force. Someone like that, with any kind of immunity and means . . . "

"I know."

"I should have filed charges," Jax said. "Or at least reported them. Officially."

Steve weighed his words carefully, threading his fingers through her damp hair. "We're still within the statute of limitations, you still could. No one is going to pressure you to do that. But Martinez is dangerous; and with this application, he's given us an opening to deal with him."

She nodded and reached for her coffee. Steve dropped the subject, figuring she would circle back to it in her own time.

"We don't start interviews until late morning," Jax said. "Danny and I should go over the twelve we selected for the first round; see if you agree with our choices."

"Yeah, that would be good," Steve said. His lips twitched in a sly smile. "Once Danny has Rachel settled. He was getting her tea, and something to eat."

Jax whirled on him. "What do you know?" she demanded.

"I know Danny well enough to know that he's going to want to be the one to tell you," Steve said, but he couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

#*#*#*#*#

They decided to meet up with Danny in the lobby and walk to a nearby diner to go over the files.

His face lit up when he saw Jax, and she found herself enveloped in one of his trademark bear hugs.

"Thank you," he whispered, "for taking care of Rachel yesterday."

"I just gave her an excuse to get to a pharmacy," Jax said. "So . . . yeah?"

"Yeah," Danny said, beaming. "We're having another baby. And you did a lot for Rachel yesterday; more than you realize. I think . . . I think we might actually get a second chance."

"I'm happy for you, Danny," Jax said, squeezing him tight. "You deserve so much happiness. You deserve your happily ever after. And I deserve more coffee. Let's go."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve agreed with the reasoning for the selection of the twelve candidates, but he had one additional candidate in mind.

"Officer Patrick O'Connell," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"He didn't apply," Danny pointed out.

"But he's qualified," Steve said. "And capable. I say we ask him if he wants a spot. Jax?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "I don't know why he didn't apply, but yes. He's good; very good."

"You don't need to convince us," Danny said. "I worked with him yesterday on . . . logistics."

Jax tilted her head at Danny, glanced between him and Steve, and decided that she didn't have it in her to ask. "Okay, so a baker's dozen, then." She tapped her finger on the stack of files in front of her. "Not a bad day's work."

#*#*#*#*#

The day passed pleasantly and quickly, and they realized it would be difficult to narrow the choices down to three or four of the twelve candidates they had selected.

"The governor only approved a budget for four?" Jax complained. "We have six . . . nine when we work with Caviness' team."

"I can ask Governor Jameson to put in a good word, down the road, and see if we can get more manpower and equipment for these guys," Steve suggested. "What do you say we call it a day? We can go over all of this tomorrow, decide who to call back in for the fun part."

"The fun part?" Danny asked.

"Yeah, field testing," Steve grinned.

Jax reached for her phone which was buzzing on the table. "Patrick says that he'd be happy to join us for dinner," she announced. "Danny, you're sure you're okay with Steve and I talking to him about the task force?"

"Absolutely," Danny said. "Rachel and I have some big news to share with Gracie and the family; you and Steve enjoy talking shop."

#*#*#*#*#

A day at a conference table had Steve feeling jittery and jet-lagged. He flipped through the hotel's listing of amenities, hopeful . . . yes.

"Jax, there's an indoor pool," he said. "I'm going to get in some laps. Want to join me?"

"Can't," she said ruefully, pointing to the fresh ink. "But you go ahead, enjoy it. I'm . . . " she took a deep breath. "I'm going to make a phone call."

He studied her for a moment.

"I'm calling Lieutenant Allen, okay? Don't make it a thing."

He grinned. "Aye, aye, ma'am."

#*#*#*#*#

"Okay, yeah, I have to admit it - this is pretty spectacular pizza," Steve said. "I get why Danny and Jax miss it."

"You can't get this on the island, I'm guessing," Patrick said, smiling. He glanced toward the back of the tiny pizzeria, where Jax had slipped away to the restroom. "Shame; it might help her keep a few pounds on if you could. Damn. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply - she's clearly very happy. She's just . . . when we were in the academy together, we hung out, and you know, all the studying, and training - we were starving and we'd go for burgers, pizza, whatever. And, I mean, she's tiny, so we'd end up finishing her fries, most of the time, but . . . after the boys . . . she just pushed food around on her plate. It was like . . ." He pointed at her plate, which had been absently rearranged but largely unchanged in volume.

"Survivor's guilt," Steve said gently. "We see it after combat. You lose someone you love, you think about all the things they can no longer enjoy . . . now you can't enjoy it either."

She caught their eye from the bar, and held up three fingers to see if they wanted another round. She smiled when they nodded, and waited for the bartender.

"So it's not my imagination," Patrick said.

"No. It's usually better than this; but yeah . . . sometimes it's an issue. One of many; but what do you expect? She's seen more than most law enforcement ever will; more than a lot of soldiers."

"You seem to take it in stride," Patrick said. "A lot of guys wouldn't be willing."

"I have a military background," Steve said. "An active background. Teams. There was . . . we had a rough time of it, some fireworks and smoke - I damn near killed her before I got back in my head. Scared the shit out of me. So, we're both getting official help. I don't handle anything of hers that she doesn't have to handle in return." He took a swig of his beer, his jaw tightening and his eyes darkening. As horrific as some of his missions had been, there was one experience that they definitely did not share. "Well, almost anything. When this goes down tomorrow - you do not leave her side, you understand me? I don't want that scumbag to so much as breathe the same oxygen as her."

"Understood."

Jax headed toward them, beers in hand. Steve watched her appreciatively.

"You have me to thank for those jeans and that jacket," Patrick smirked. "From our last undercover op together; I held on to them, figured one of these days she'd come back through. Man, did those clothes ever serve the purpose."

"And what was the purpose?" Steve said absently, watching as Jax wove through the crowded tables, looking positively fetching in a leather jacket with her red curls spilling over the soft fleece hood, the butter soft fabric accentuating her curves. She slipped sideways to clear a chair, and he tilted his head appreciatively at the fit of the jeans.

"The purpose? To get guys as distracted as you are right now," Patrick said. "Because damn, she looks good."

Steve raised his eyebrows in mild challenge.

"Oh, I am no threat to you, I assure you," Patrick said.

"Not to Steve, maybe, but I'm watching you, O'Connell," Jax said, sliding in the booth next to Steve. "And you can admire all you want, but if I catch you copping a feel, I'm calling David."

"I won't touch," Patrick said. He turned serious. "And you do look good, Jax. The island agrees with you. And the people on it, apparently. You look happy; it's a good look for you."

"I am happy," Jax said, as Steve slipped his arm around her and kissed her cheek.

Just in case, his brain decided. He let his hand rest possessively on her leg. For good measure, his brain agreed.

"I enjoy my work," Jax continued, amused but non-plussed by Steve's not-so-subtle gestures. "The task force is . . . a lot like what NYPD first hired me to do, with the variety of roles and opportunities, but with a team. Not being bounced around from precinct to precinct with no connections."

"It sounds amazing," Patrick said.

"We like to think so," Steve said, "so we were surprised that someone with your capabilities and background wouldn't have applied. I mean - you know we all think very highly of you. You had to assume that you'd have a good shot. Did you consider it?"

Patrick took a long swig of his beer. "Wow. I'm flattered that you thought of it."

"Would you be interested?" Jax asked.

"Of course. Anyone in their right mind would love the opportunity," Patrick said. "It's just . . . I didn't know if there would be a place for someone like me on the task force."

"You mean someone Irish?" Steve said, deadpan.

"Funny. Come on - a task force modeled after the one originally founded by Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett, United States Navy? You have to understand why I was a bit skeptical about applying," Patrick said. "I've made my peace with who I am. I'm also a damn good cop, and I know it. That doesn't mean that other people are comfortable working with me."

"DADT was repealed, first of all," Steve said. "Secondly, Five-O was never a military organization, and I never - never - would have excluded anyone on the basis of orientation. It wouldn't have been a factor. DADT was the Navy's idea, not mine."

"I understand, and respect that, Steve," Patrick sighed, "but I'm sad to say, you're more the exception than the rule. I hate to sound trite, but it's difficult for you to understand."

Jax nodded in agreement.

"What do you mean?" Steve said, looking between the two of them for clarification.

"Look at you," Patrick said. "White, straight . . . "

"Hot," Jax murmured absently.

"People find it easy to work with you," Patrick continued, "because you don't challenge any of their notions of what a Naval officer or law enforcement officer should be. But there are plenty of guys who don't want to work with the gay cop - don't want to share a locker room, don't want to go on stake-outs together. Same thing with a lot of guys not wanting to work with female officers. It makes them uncomfortable. In both cases, some idiots find the idea emasculating. The task force, Five-O - you count on HPD for back-up, right? So, the task force here would count on NYPD for back-up."

"Yeah, it's vital," Steve agreed. "And there's been some hard feelings, at times, between HPD and FIve-O. It's rare, but even a great law enforcement agency has a few members that don't deserve the badge."

"They're jealous, or resentful," Patrick suggested.

"Yeah, a few," Steve admitted.

"The kind of jealous and resentful that O'Neil, Martinez, and Jackson were," Jax said quietly. "That kind of resentful, Steve - the kind of resentful that's based on your orientation, or your gender. You've not come up against it, not the way Patrick and I have."

"Damn," Steve said. "That's . . ."

Patrick looked at Steve sympathetically, as Jax rubbed the back of his hand with her fingers.

"So you wouldn't consider it?" Steve asked.

"Nah, I didn't say I wouldn't consider it," Patrick said, smiling. "Just that I hadn't."

"Well, alright then," Steve said, nodding in satisfaction.

"I want to be put through the field test, day after tomorrow, though, just like everyone else," Patrick said. "I'm signing up for enough potential trouble without the accusations of favoritism to deal with as well."

"The association with me won't do you any favors," Jax said.

"That's where you're wrong," Patrick argued, leaning across the table. "You had more friends on the force than you realized, Jax. You were just so damn stubborn, you never let anyone close; never asked anyone for help. You'll find out tomorrow, you'll see."

"Tomorrow?" Jax said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"We have one more interview tomorrow," Steve said, nodding at Patrick.

"Martinez?" Jax asked quietly.

"Charges are being filed," Patrick said. "That's been taken out of your hands."

"But beyond that, anything you have to do with it - or not - that's completely in your control, Jax," Steve said. "You have control, here, ku'uipo."

Jax wasn't the only one who had placed a call to Lieutenant Allen.