A/N: Forensic science and computer technology are not my field of expertise . . . I've tried to make the details reasonable, but please read this in the spirit of a creative work, not a research document.
#*#*#*#*#
"He's long gone," Steve said flatly, staring at the mock graves. "We won't find him here, not now." He turned to Catherine. "He wasn't working with the Hesse brothers. Not when . . . I would have known. I was tracking Novak first, then Anton and Victor. My team was the best; if Novak had been involved, I would have known. So what is he trying to say?"
Catherine shook her head. "It would be speculation, Steve."
He turned to Caviness. "Speculate for me, Caviness. What do you think he's trying to say?"
"I read it one of two ways," Caviness said slowly. "You said at Halawa that he ranted about wanting you to know that he was as dangerous as the Hesse brothers; that he was insulted that you were sent to track the Hesse brothers instead of him. So, he could be trying to prove that now."
Steve nodded. "But he didn't kill Jax when he had the chance."
"Right," Caviness said.
"Because I could still prove useful in his little game," Jax said quietly. "He could have killed Danny, too."
"Equal parts revenge and respect," Caviness said. "He's punishing you for the loss of his people; he said so at Halawa. And he's doing it in such a way as to rub your nose in the fact that he's a step ahead of you. He's trying to prove himself a more cunning adversary than Victor Hesse."
Steve looked at him sharply. "So I'll go after him instead of Hesse?"
"Protecting the people you still have instead of seeking revenge for those you've already lost," Chin said gently, looking at Steve with the same expression he had the day of John McGarrett's funeral: knowing, sorrowful, wise.
"Which could mean that even though he wasn't actively working with Victor Hesse before, he could be now," Catherine said, filling in the blanks. "And this could be a diversion. We'll look at everything we have on both men from the very beginning, Steve, and if there's a connection I swear to you we'll find it."
"Thanks, Catherine," Steve said. He looked down at Jax, who had been flanked by Danny and Grover. "You okay?" he asked quietly. She was staring at the crosses, and flinched when Danny put a gentle hand between her shoulders.
"Hm? Yeah, I'm good," she said. "What next?"
"We need to get all of this back to the lab," Steve said. "At some point, Novak is going to slip up. His involvement with the Miobe brothers means he's likely branched out from arms dealing to human trafficking. That would explain his presence on the island. So we have to assume that he's going to have ongoing interests here. He'll be back; he's not finished with me or with his criminal activity. We need to set up the system to flag every lead we get on human trafficking cases to be cross referenced with Novak as well."
"Steve," Catherine interrupted softly. "I agree, and you'll get full cooperation from Naval Intelligence on all of that. So why don't you let my team handle the evidence. We'll take it back to Pearl; you'll have the best of the best processing it, and everything will go into international systems."
Steve looked like he wanted to argue; shifting his weight restlessly from one foot to the other.
"Commander McGarrett," Catherine said, "your team is top notch, but only human. There are six of you; I have sixteen or so officers at my disposal."
"But I know Novak; I know his type -" Steve protested, but Catherine held up her hand to stop him.
"If there's a crisis tomorrow; a bank robbery with hostages, a bomb scare, a kidnapping - is your team going to be ready to handle it?" Catherine argued. "Because if that happens, they're not calling me, Steve, they're calling you. I'm not asking you to stand down; just give our lab time to process this evidence. Then we'll evaluate; decide what role you want Five-O to have."
Steve was silent for a long moment, looking at his team. They looked back at him, shoulders back, heads high, ready to follow him come hell or high water, pain and exhaustion be damned.
"We're in, boss, whatever call you make," Kono said.
Steve glanced back at Catherine. He felt it, the way he did sometimes, the pull between his new life with Five-O and his old life with the Navy. Danny could see the tension on his face, the scrunch of worry lines between his eyebrows; just as he could see it lift, the lines smooth back out, as Steve's eyes landed on Jax.
"You'll keep me in the loop," he said, turning back to Catherine. "Anything. Twenty-four seven, I want to know."
"Yes, absolutely," Catherine said.
"Okay." Steve exhaled. "Navy Intelligence collects and processes the evidence. Copies of every report to Five-O."
"Yeah, Steve," Catherine said. "We'll find him. We will." She reached out, touched him just once, lightly, on the hand, and then turned smartly and walked back to join the rest of her team.
Jax didn't realize that she had grabbed for Danny's hand and was holding on tight, until Steve tenderly pried her fingers away, wrapping her small hand in his. He traced the fingers of his other hand over her bruised face, tucking her curls behind her ear.
Danny smiled, because Steve didn't look back at Catherine, not even a little bit.
Steve sighed and looked at the mock graves, his shoulders slumped. Jax leaned against him, and he cradled her head against his chest, kissing the top of her head.
"Catherine's right, Steve," Danny said, squeezing Steve's arm. "This asshole can't hide forever."
#*#*#*#*#
Chin tossed the keys of his SUV to Steve. "I'll hitch a ride with Caviness and Kono," he said.
"Thanks, man," Steve said, catching the keys easily in mid-air. "Meet you back at the office."
Steve went to the driver's door automatically, and Danny and Grover both went for the back doors.
"Wait," Jax protested. "Grover is, like, seven feet tall. Take shotgun, partner."
"You sure, Nolan?" Grover said.
"Yeah, positive," Jax said, climbing into the back seat.
"Didn't occur to you that I might want to ride in the front?" Danny groused, sliding in beside her.
"Nope," she said, scooting next to him and resting her head on his shoulder.
#*#*#*#*#
The roads back from Ka'ena Point were narrow and winding, and in the forty-five minutes it took to drive back to the palace, Jax had fallen soundly asleep, her head nestled against Danny's shoulder.
"Jax, babe, wake up," Danny murmured, as they pulled into the palace parking lot.
She shifted against him. "Danno?" she mumbled, rubbing her face. "Ow," she complained, as she encountered her bruised cheek and jaw. "Happ'nd? Grace okay?"
Steve met Danny's eyes in the rearview mirror. Grace. Not Gracie.
"Jax, you're okay," Danny said. "You're confused, though; can you wake up for me?"
"Danny," Jax complained, "what the hell . . . am I concussed or wasted?"
Grover chuckled and glanced at Steve. "Man, she musta been something as a rookie."
"You have no idea," Danny grumbled, trying to shift his arm, which had fallen asleep, without hurting Jax. "Jax," he repeated, brushing her hair out of her face. "Come on, concussion check, you know the drill."
Jax groaned and lifted her head, squinting at Danny. Steve put the SUV in park and slid out. He opened Jax's door and leaned against it, looking down at Jax.
"Hey, ku'uipo," he said cautiously.
"Hey," she breathed. "Hey . . . oh. Shit. Sorry."
"You with us?" Steve asked, cupping her face in his hand and kissing her cheek.
"Yeah," she said. "My head hurts."
"I know," Steve said, slipping his fingers into her curls and rubbing her head gently. "Motrin?"
"Coffee?" she countered, smiling at him. She climbed out of the back of the SUV and started toward the entrance of the palace, moving stiffly but with determination.
"Well, you heard the woman, McGarrett," Grover said, shaking his head. "Let there be coffee."
"Amen," Danny agreed.
#*#*#*#*#
They weren't surprised to find Chin, Kono, and Caviness in the well-appointed break room. Kono had skipped the single-cup and was brewing a full pot, much to Jax's delight.
"All the nice things Danny said about you are absolutely true," Jax said, closing her eyes and inhaling the aroma.
"Aw, Danny said nice things about me?" Kono beamed.
"Hmmm," Jax mumbled absently, reaching for a mug and waiting anxiously for the beep of the coffee maker. "He said you were McGarrett's brand of crazy in an even hotter package." She stopped, blinking at Kono. "The stuff from the hospital may not have worn off yet."
"Danny thinks I'm hot," Kono said proudly.
"Even hotter than McGarrett," Caviness agreed.
Danny groaned. "I'm gonna go call my baby girl," he said, walking out of the room muttering about damn rookies.
Steve was on his heels, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. "I, ah, need to call the governor."
"I'm not leaving this room without coffee," Grover decided, reaching easily over Jax and grabbing a mug. The coffee maker beeped, and both Grover and Caviness stepped back to let Jax and Kono get to the machine first.
"Wait, I thought the two of you were hard-core feminists. No protesting deferential treatment?" Caviness teased.
"Not when coffee is involved," Kono replied, dead serious.
"You'll learn," Chin said, getting his own mug, "not to stand between Kono and caffeine, especially first thing in the morning."
"I really look forward to learning that," Caviness said, speaking to Chin but smiling at Kono.
"Kono does too, but you have that ten date rule," Jax said absently, sipping her coffee as she walked out of the breakroom.
"She's fun when she's concussed, isn't she?" Grover said, beaming at them.
They went to their own offices and started the tedious paperwork that followed every single operation. They could see Steve on the phone, pacing in his office as he talked to the governor. At intervals, he would stop and rub his eyes tiredly, and then resume.
Grover looked over at Jax, squinting at the screen despite her glasses, and hunting and pecking at the keys, still wearing her tactical gloves. He sighed and stood up from his desk, propping a hip on hers and looking down at her.
"Hey, partner," she said, smiling tiredly up at him. "What's up?"
"Did you ever take that Motrin?" he asked, fishing around in her desk drawer and coming up with the well-worn bottle he knew she kept handy. "And don't you want to take the gloves off? I know Steve likes them, but . . . "
She laughed and held out her hand for the bottle. Grover decided she didn't need the aggravation of the child-proof cap, and opened it for her, tilting two tablets into her hand. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he shook his head and tilted out two more.
"Thanks" she mumbled, as she tossed them back with a sip of now-cold coffee.
"Gloves?" he said, pointing at her hands.
"I, um, think the gloves are holding the bandages on at this point," she said, making a face. "It's going to hurt to take them off, and . . ."
"I'm sorry, honey, but . . . isn't it just going to get worse, the longer you leave it?" he asked.
"Yeah," she sighed, "you're right. Let me go get a couple rolls of gauze from downstairs, though. What I have up here isn't non-stick."
Steve caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, and as Jax headed to the elevator, he looked at Grover questioningly. Grover pointed to his wrist and then to Jax, and Steve nodded. A moment later, he put his phone deliberately on his desk and sat down, staring out the window.
Danny knocked on his door as he went in.
"How'd that go?" he asked quietly, sitting down in the chair opposite the desk.
"I have no idea," Steve sighed "She wants us to turn this completely over to the Navy, which . . . okay, I guess it makes sense, on the one hand, but I can't get her to understand that if Novak is possibly cooperating with Hesse, and possibly engaging in human trafficking, this is going to hit way too close to home to make it strictly a Navy problem. It will be exactly the sort of thing that Five-O was created to handle, and yet she seems to be trying to put us at a distance."
"For what reason?" Danny asked, frowning.
"I don't know," Steve said. "Hey, how's Gracie?"
"Yeah, she's good. Rachel's being exceptionally cooperative; she's going to let me have her this weekend, since this case has had me tied up a couple of my weeknights lately," Danny said. "And Gracie is reminding me that we need to have our Five-O anniversary celebration. I explained to her that . . . now might not be a good time."
"But she'll be disappointed if we don't," Steve said. "We need to do it."
"Steve," Danny said gently. "I appreciate your consideration of my kid, but she'll get over it. She's a cop's daughter, she unfortunately understands these things. You've got a lot to deal with right now."
Steve looked at him somewhat blankly.
"Don't do that, Steve," Danny said, leaning forward in his chair. "Don't give me the thousand yard stare and try to convince me that those mock graves we stumbled on today didn't affect you. Your dad's name. Freddie's. There was a cross, Steven, a cross on what looked like a fresh grave, and it had Jax's badge tied to it with a red ribbon. That's going to be what I see when I close my eyes tonight. Don't try to tell me that it's not that, times three, for you. Because I'm not buying it."
"Danny, it was just Novak trying to play mind games with me. With us," Steve argued. "I'm not going to let it get to me. We made a promise to Gracie, I'm not going to let some nutcase start dictating my personal life."
"Not buying it, try again."
Steve sighed. "Okay, would you buy that . . . having the team around makes me feel better?"
Danny studied him for a long moment. "Because you're evolving into a more mature being who is able to admit that he needs the support of his friends, or because you think that if you have us all in one place you can single-handedly protect us from harm?"
Steve thought about that for a moment. "Both?" he asked, uncertainly.
"Well, that's a little bit of progress," Danny said, smiling at Steve. "You've come a long way from the insane loner who pulled a gun on me the first day we met."
"Thanks, I think," Steve said.
"Jax has had an effect on you," Danny observed. "You're marginally less reckless than you used to be. Speaking of, where has our girl gone off to? She's not in her office."
Steve stood up, frowning. "She was heading down to get stuff to bandage her wrists, I think, but she hasn't come back. Let's go check, she shouldn't be wandering around the armory concussed."
They met Max coming off the elevator. "Commander, Detective," he greeted them cheerily. "I have the lab results from the blood tests of the victims. Since the information is sensitive and contains potential health information of one of your team members, I wanted to deliver the information myself." He held a sealed envelope in his hands.
"Jax is downstairs," Danny said, "we'll take it to her."
"Excellent idea," Max said. "She may want to read the results in some measure of privacy."
"Why?" Steve demanded.
"I wouldn't know," Max said. "I've not looked at the results. As I said, it's sensitive information." He held on tight to the envelope.
"Thanks, Max," Steve said. He gestured to Danny. "Danny is Jax's medical proxy; I promise, we'll take these straight to her."
Max handed over the envelope to Danny with a small flourish. "When receiving medical results, it is wise to have a friend or family member present. I think in this case it is arguably more appropriate for Detective Williams to deliver the report to Officer Nolan than for me to do so. Here you go."
"Thanks, Max," Danny said, as he pressed the button for the basement floor.
"I believe I heard Mr. Fong mention that they were going to process Officer Nolan's badge as quickly as possible," Max added, as they descended. "I'm sure she is anxious to have it returned to her possession."
"Yeah, thanks Max," Steve said. "We'll stop by the lab before we go back up."
They parted ways, with Max heading toward his office suite as they headed toward the armory and supply cabinet. As they rounded the corner, they could see Jax, sitting cross legged on the floor, cradling her right wrist in her left hand. Her head was bent over her hands, curls cascading down and hiding her face.
"Jax?" Danny called quietly.
"Hey, ku'uipo, what -" Steve knelt down next to her, gently lifting her hand in his own. "Oh, shit, Jax, this is . . . " He sighed. "I should have thought of this earlier, I'm sorry."
"What -" Danny started to ask, and then broke off as Steve pulled Jax gently to her feet. He caught sight of her hand, the glove half-way off. The bandage was a mess - blood-soaked and crumpled, pressed into the broken and bruised skin, which had swollen over the course of the day.
"You should have asked for help," Steve said, wincing as he gingerly pulled the bandage away.
Jax shook her head stubbornly. "I knew it was going to hurt like hell, and I didn't want . . . I guess I just wanted to lick my wounds privately. I told you, I don't want to be the weak link; I don't want to be coddled and . . . "
"Babe, when are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that there's nothing weak about asking for help?" Danny asked, exasperated. "What do you need, Steve?"
"Saline and non-stick gauze," Steve said. "And surgical tape." He boosted Jax easily to sit on the sturdy table. While Danny rummaged for supplies, he finished pulling her glove off, murmuring soft words of comfort as she flinched. "One down, let's go ahead and pull this other one off," he said, reaching for her other hand. By the time he finished, there were a few tears streaking down her bruised cheek. He brushed them away with his thumb.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered. "It's just an abrasion."
"Hey, it hurts like a son of a bitch," Steve commiserated. "I know, ku'uipo."
She looked up at him, touching his cheek softly. Of course he knew; and then some.
Danny put the supplies on the table next to Jax's knee. "Classified, I suppose?" he said, rubbing Jax's knee.
"Except for one unfortunate incident involving a great deal of tequila and a blind date," Steve said. He grabbed the bottle of saline and squirted a particularly stubborn section of bandage, teasing it away from Jax's skin gently.
"Will you tell me the story?" Jax asked. "Please?"
"You have to be hurt a lot worse than this for me to feel sorry enough for you to tell you that story," Steve said, grinning at her.
"Great; she's going to take that as a challenge the next time we're in a hail of bullets," Danny complained. "Babe, are you sure you don't need to go back to the ER? That looks terrible."
"There's nothing else they'd do for it, Danny," Jax said. "Hey, will you look for the analgesic antibiotic cream?"
As Danny checked the cabinet again, Jax glanced down at the envelope he'd laid on the table. "What's with the mystery envelope?" she asked.
"Blood test results from the Miobe brothers," Steve said, pulling the last of the stubborn bandage away. "Max brought the lab report."
Jax was silent, chewing on her lip thoughtfully.
"Hey," Steve said, tucking his fingers under her chin and tilting her head up to look into her eyes. "I love you, got it? I'm not going anywhere; nothing's changing that."
"Read it, Danny?" Jax asked, while Steve's hands were still busy with hers.
"You sure, babe?" Danny asked, picking up the envelope slowly.
She nodded, and he opened the envelope and slid the paper out. It took only a moment before his face flooded with relief. "It's all clear. Nothing. Not even chicken pox."
Steve felt her hands start to shake under his. "You're sure?" she said, trying to peer over edge of the lab report.
"Absolutely sure," Danny said, grinning at them.
"Thank God," Jax said, laughing shakily. "I . . . with everything going on I don't think I realized how scared . . . okay. This will heal and I'll be good as new. Everything will be fine. I'll be fine."
She slipped nimbly from the table and headed for the elevator, leaving a slightly befuddled Steve and Danny staring after her, medical supplies still clutched in their hands.
"See, she's going to be fine," Steve said, but his tone was dubious. He looked at Danny uncertainly.
Danny sighed. "What have I told you about 'fine'?. Let's go get her badge from the lab. And then, please, dear God, can this day be over?"
#*#*#*#*#
The sun was starting to set by the time they wrapped things up and headed home.
"Are you okay?" Jax asked quietly, rubbing Steve's hand where it casually wrapped around her knee.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered quickly. Very quickly. "You hungry? We haven't eaten all day."
She shook her head. "Hurts to chew. I'll grab a protein shake or something."
He frowned. "You need more than that in you to take your meds. I can make some eggs -"
"Not taking those," she said decisively, interrupting him. "Not tonight. For starters. Probably not again, honestly."
"Jax, you need -"
"I need to . . . what if there's a break in the case? What if Lieutenant Rollins calls with a lead? I can't be wandering around the island, armed, and looped out on that stuff. I hate it. I'm pretty sure I said something vaguely mortifying in the break room today, after I fell asleep in the car and I can't . . . I can't stand not being in control," she said. "I'm afraid -" She broke off, looking out the window.
Steve felt an unease crawl up his spine. "Jax," he said slowly, "is there something you're not telling me? I've never heard you say that."
"What?" she snorted. "That I can't stand not being in control? Pretty sure you knew that was part of the package, sailor."
They were stopped at a red light now, and he looked at her. "I've never heard you say that you were afraid. Of anything."
She was silent, still looking out the window, and the light turned green. He sighed and stepped on the gas.
"You don't want to talk about it, I get that, Jax," he said, finally.
"You gonna try to convince me that you do?" she asked. "Wanna tell me how it felt, seeing your dad's name, Freddie's name, on those damn . . ." She stopped, brushing at her eyes impatiently.
He remembered then that he had her badge in his pocket; he and Danny had picked it up in the lab but by the time they got upstairs he'd had to sign off on everyone's report and deal with another phone call from the governor. He shifted in his seat now, pulling it out of his pocket.
"Wanna tell me how it felt to see your badge hanging there?" he countered. He held her badge out to her, and she took it from him. Her hands were trembling again. "Jax -" he broke off helplessly.
"I don't want to talk about it," she said softly, turning her badge over in her hands. "Not . . . not yet. Please?" She paused. "I'm sorry, I'm being selfish . . . if you want to talk about it, if you need -"
He shook his head. "No," he managed to get out, past the strangled feeling in his throat.
They were in front of the house now, and Steve cut the engine. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.
"It's not too dark yet, you could swim," she suggested. She could feel the tension and nervous energy radiating off him; knew that usually a swim or run helped. "I'd join you but -" she gestured to the bandages on her wrists, and then turned to get out of the truck. Pain and weariness was evident in every movement, and she winced visibly as she landed.
"How about I help you with your dressings and we find a hockey game?" Steve countered, meeting up with her on the sidewalk. His hand was warm and comforting on the small of her back, and she turned on the porch steps to face him. She liked standing on the steps to talk to him; she was less likely to get a crick in her neck that way.
"We're going to be okay, right?" she asked, her voice hesitant. "I know I'm being . . . bitchy. I'm sorry, I just -" she broke off with a frustrated gesture that reminded him again of Danny.
He cupped her face in his hands. "Yes," he said emphatically. "We are going to be okay."
"We need to find him. Novak. We need to find him, and stop him, before . . ." her voice broke again.
He studied her, unable to shake the feeling that there was something she was holding back.
"We will, ku'uipo," he said, kissing her carefully, mindful of the bruising. "What is it? What has you so on edge?"
She hesitated for a moment. "I'm missing a lot of time," she blurted. "From the time I let them get the drop on me, to the ride to the hospital . . . I'm missing a lot of time, and what I remember is distorted. I don't remember what really happened and what I was dreaming while I was in the hospital. Even with the drugs . . . I know some of it wasn't real, because I remember Rachel being there. So some of it had to be . . . What if I'm forgetting something, or remembering something wrong, and I'm missing something important? Something that would help with the case?"
"It's possible, but unlikely, Jax. You're trained to remember. You had the presence of mind to collect evidence that would exonerate Chin and Kono," he reminded her. "But you also had a concussion and a shitload of trauma to deal with. Do you need me to call Malia? Or Danny?"
She shook her head. "I'm okay, it's just been a long day. Maybe eggs sound good after all. And coffee."
He chuckled at her hopeful tone. "Eggs and toast," he said, "and coffee. Coming right up."
"Perfect," she said, trudging up the stairs as he went into the kitchen. "I'm just going to grab a quick shower."
He looked over his shoulder to be sure that she was going up the stairs, and then hazarded a look out the kitchen window. The crime scene tape was cleared and the lanai had been scrubbed clean. He heaved a sigh of relief. He'd forgotten to call HPD to ask them to send a crew, so . . . Chin. He would bet on it. It had been Chin who had sent someone to come clean after his dad -
Shaking himself free of that line of thought, he could hear thumping and muttered cursing coming from upstairs. He took the stairs two at a time and padded silently into the bedroom. Jax was sitting on the floor next to the bed, much like she had been in the basement earlier, this time struggling with her boots.
"Need help?" he asked, and then dodged as a small, but relatively heavy, steel-toed combat boot came flying at his face. Only his exceptional reflexes saved the lamp on the dresser closest to the door. "Whoa," he said mildly, setting the boot down and holding his hands out in case he needed to catch another one. "Good arm. We are so going to cream Honolulu Fire Department in this years' softball tournament. Want to tell me what brought that on?"
She was still tugging on the second boot. "Dammit," she muttered, her bruised hands fighting to get a grip.
"Stop it," Steve said firmly. "Move your hands, and let me. This is ridiculous." He sat down crosslegged on the floor, facing her, and picked up her foot into his lap.
"I know, I'm sorry," she mumbled.
"No, it's not ridiculous that you're having trouble," he clarified. "It's ridiculous that you're trying to do it alone. Damn, woman, you are stubborn. If the situation were reversed; if this were me, or Danny, or Kono, you'd be the one helping with boots, and gloves, and bandages."
"I'm supposed to be the one helping with boots and gloves and bandages," she retorted irritably. "It's my damn job. I'm sick of feeling helpless and incompetent. You shouldn't have to . . . I've become a liability to you. To the team."
Steve slid the boot off her foot and froze. "What the - where did you get that idea?"
"Don't deny it. You wanted to push the issue today, with Catherine. You could have . . . I don't know, reactivated or something and gone after Novak. With her. And instead, you're stuck here. With me," Jax gestured. "With me and my stupid feet."
"Your feet are not stupid," Steve said, setting her boot aside gently and tenderly pulling the bandages from her ankles, one at a time. The boots had been kinder than the gloves, and she only winced slightly where the gauze was stuck. "A little stinky, I'm not going to deny it," he continued, glancing at her through his long lashes, smirking. "But, you know, that's relative. I've done blister checks on my team five days in to a mission in the rainforest."
"Which rainforest?" she asked. It was a fun game, trying to catch him out in giving up a location.
"Classified," he smiled. "There. You're good to shower. Do not come down the stairs, got it? I'm grabbing the kit and some food and we are going to sit right out there," he said, pointing to the second story lanai.
She nodded and let him help her up. As she turned to head into the bathroom, he stopped her.
"Jax."
She turned back toward him. "Yeah?"
"I'm not stuck here," he said, reaching out and tucking her curls away from her face. "I'm not stuck here with you. I left active duty, went into the Reserves, because I wanted to. That was a choice that I made; and it was before I met you. I've never regretted that choice, and I especially don't regret it now."
"But you miss it, sometimes," she said. "I can tell."
"Yeah, maybe, like you miss street racing," he acknowledged. "I can tell. But do you regret leaving that scene, going to the academy, being a cop, being a tactical medic?"
"Never," she said firmly.
"Okay. Then why . . . okay, don't be mad, but Danny's mentioned that you are a little . . . insecure. Is there something that I say or do that makes you feel that way?"
She shook her head and chewed her lip uncertainly. "No, it's just . . . I'm not used to . . . my whole life, I've been a disappointment to . . . um, people. This - the team, a partner I can trust - I'm not used to this. I guess I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop."
"Well, you can stop," he said, wrapping her in his arms. "Now, can I go downstairs and whip up some eggs, or do you need to throw another boot at me?"
"Coffee, don't forget the coffee," she mumbled into his chest.
#*#*#*#*#
The door that led from the bedroom to the second story lanai was ajar when Steve came upstairs, bearing a tray with eggs, toast, and two mugs of steaming coffee. He'd grabbed one of his trademark Navy showers in the downstairs bathroom, and tossed on a clean pair of boardies from the laundry room.
Stepping out onto the second story lanai, he spotted Jax in just his old Coronado t-shirt, leaning on the railing and looking out at the water. The fading rays of the sunset caught on her damp ringlets, burnishing them dark auburn. He placed the tray on the table and stepped behind her, bracing his arms on either side of her and kissing the back of her neck.
"There's coffee," he murmured, and she shivered as his stubble did delightful things to the tender skin of her throat.
"Screw the coffee," she whispered, turning and leaning back against the railing. She traced her fingers over the intricate ink on his biceps.
He swept his eyes over her, first; and then his hands, carefully, thoroughly, as he'd been restless to do since hauling her, covered in blood, out of that damned liferaft and into the hospital. She let him, standing patiently as he looked at her wrists, brushed his fingers over her bruised cheek, assuring himself that she was relatively intact.
Food might have been forgotten altogether, had his stomach not rumbled loudly in protest just about the time his thumb traced over the familiar scar on her hip. She grinned at the noise of his stomach growling, as he frowned at the prominence of her hip bone.
"Hold that thought," he said, smiling down at her. "First, food."
"Second?" she said, her eyes glinting wickedly as he nudged her to the table.
"Second . . . we forget about Novak for one damn hour," he said.
#*#*#*#*#
Her cheek, the one that wasn't bruised, nestled perfectly against his collarbone as he absently ran his fingers through her curls. She winced as he grazed too closely to the recently mended cut at her hairline, and he remembered that she was still concussed.
"Shit, Jax," he said, slipping out from under her, settling her gently on a pillow. He propped up on an elbow and raised her eyelids, one at a time, checking her pupil response. "I can't believe . . . ku'uipo, I'm sorry, you're still concussed and . . . "
"And what, sailor?" she asked, pulling him down for a soft kiss. "The agreement was to forget about Novak for an hour, remember? Did you hear me complaining?"
"Complaining? No," he said, smirking. "The neighbors may have heard you, but I don't think they would mistake it for complaining."
"Shut up," she said. "You bring me coffee wearing nothing but those damn board shorts, what do you expect?"
His grin faded as he rubbed his fingers lightly over her temple. "You sure you won't take the pain meds tonight?"
She shook her head. "I can't, Steve."
"Okay," he soothed. "You gonna be able to sleep?"
"Are you?" she countered.
He sighed and slipped out of the bed, retrieving a soft blanket from the chair in the corner and draping it over the corner of the bed where she could reach it. She tended to run cold when injured and fatigued, and after one memorable incident in which she'd nearly taken a header down the stairs, searching for a blanket while disoriented, he'd started thinking ahead.
"I'll sleep better when Novak is behind bars," he said, sliding back into bed and wrapping his arm around her, nuzzling the back of her neck. "What's wrong?" he said, stilling as he felt her flinch and stiffen next to him.
"Sorry, I - your arm is heavy," she said carefully.
He paused in confusion; his arm was heavy every other night, and she hadn't complained . . . of course, he realized, that was before she'd had two dead bodies dumped on top of her.
"Shit, Jax," he said, immediately pulling his arm back. "I'm sorry." He wrapped his hand gently around her hip instead, his thumb rubbing a familiar pattern. "This okay?" he whispered.
"Yeah," she mumbled, sleepy. "I'm sorry, it's just -"
"Shh, don't apologize," he said. "It's okay, Jax, it's perfectly understandable."
"They were so heavy," she said absently, whispering, half asleep, in the dark. "I was afraid the raft would sink. I was afraid the raft would sink, and my hands and feet were tied. I didn't want Novak to leave. How crazy is that?"
"Not crazy, ku'uipo," Steve murmured.
"When he left . . . I could hear the motor, and then I couldn't. All I could hear were the waves. Every time a wave washed over the raft, I thought I would drown. I was never afraid of drowning, before, but then after the river, in New York, I was afraid," she rambled, more asleep than awake. "Drowning isn't easy like they make it look . . . it's terrifying. I was afraid . . . I was afraid I would drown, and wash up on your beach, and I didn't want . . . your beach should only have happy memories, I didn't want that to be taken away from you."
His hands clenched into fists so hard that the muscles cramped, and he fought the urge to gather her in his arms and hold her tight, knowing that especially half-asleep it would probably trigger a flashback.
"We'll have happy memories on the beach, I promise," he whispered, trying desperately to replace the images in her mind with something different. "We promised Gracie a Five-O anniversary celebration, remember?"
"Hmm," she hummed, as exhaustion took hold. "We'll need ice . . . and burgers . . ." her voice drifted off, content.
He was awake for a while, thinking of possible scenarios in which Novak would resist arrest, and wondering if the Geneva convention applied in this particular situation.
#*#*#*#*#
It probably would have been just fine, if they had remembered to close the door and set an alarm.
But they didn't; distracted, they'd tumbled into bed without bothering with an alarm, and left the door open. As the night air cooled, Jax predictably got cold, even with the blanket, and Steve predictably curled around her, holding her tight when his subconscious recognized her shivering.
And because they'd left the door open, the sound of the waves easily drifted into the room; the gentle crash on a loop, repeating, working its way into Jax's exhausted, concussed mind.
And because they'd forgotten an alarm, Steve had slept straight through his usual five am wake-up, exhausted from the case and sleep-warm and content with Jax in his arms, the scent of her hair soothing and reassuring.
If they had remembered to close the door and set an alarm, Danny wouldn't have been standing in the kitchen, having let himself in and reset the security system behind him, when he heard Jax's panic-stricken screams from upstairs.
Danny stopped cold and tilted his head toward the stairs. Sure, he'd heard her wake up in the middle of a nightmare before, but this sounded different. He hesitated. Steve would wake her up; he'd give them a few minutes to get sorted.
"Steve!"
The sheer, unadulterated terror in her voice was unmistakable, and Danny felt fear in an icy grip around his heart. Someone was hurting her, and she was calling for Steve, who at this time of morning was likely in the middle of a swim. Or someone had managed to get in the house, and Steve was hurt . . .
He was halfway up the stairs, weapon drawn, by the second time she called out for Steve, a loud crash and a thud following, and a second later, he was in the bedroom, gun pointed at -
Steve. Who was pointing a gun back at him.
"Shit, Danny," Steve said, his voice steady, "stand down. She had a nightmare."
Danny holstered his weapon, with a fleeting sense of the ridiculousness of finding himself in this situation in Steve's house. This never happened in Jersey.
"Danny?" Jax asked, confused, as she tried to extricate herself from a tangle of sheets and blankets.
"Yeah, Danny's here," Steve said, his hands deftly untangling limbs and sheets until Jax was sorted. "You okay?"
She bit her lip and shook her head, and Steve knelt by the side of the bed, gathering her gently in his arms. "Shh, I've got you," he said. "I'm so sorry, Jax. I wasn't awake . . . I didn't mean to scare you."
Danny frowned and crossed his arms, stubbornly leaning in the doorway and refusing to budge.
"Not your fault," Jax mumbled, her face tucked securely into the crook of his neck. "I could hear the waves, and then . . . it just . . ."
"I know, I'm so sorry," he repeated.
"I need to read the reports," she blurted, out of the blue. "I lost too much time, I don't know what happened. I need to see the timeline, read Max's report."
"Jax are you sure?" Steve asked, his big hand cradling her head easily against him. He could feel her nod.
"There might be something significant," she insisted. "What if some of the things I thought were from the concussion, and the hospital . . . what if I'm wrong? What if it happened in real time, and it wasn't part of my statement? We could be overlooking something significant."
"Okay," he agreed. "Okay, we'll go over everything. Together."
She nodded. "I get first dibs on the shower."
"Opportunist," he chuckled, kissing the top of her head. "I'll make coffee."
"Hi, Danny," she said casually, as she slipped out of bed and padded toward the bathroom.
Danny stared at Steve, who was grabbing a t-shirt and pulling it on over his gym shorts.
"Danny," Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck, "can we move this conversation downstairs? Please?"
"You gonna tell me what the hell that was all about?" Danny asked, gesturing wildly as he headed down the stairs. "I've heard her wake up from plenty of nightmares, Steven, and that was . . . I really thought that someone was murdering her, or you, or both."
"It was the combination of the sound of the waves -"
"Scream inducing, I agree," Danny interrupted.
"Because the door was open," Steve continued, "and I guess she got cold, which she does, always, when she's exhausted, or hurt, and usually I . . . um, try to keep her warm." He shrugged self-consciously and turned to put grounds in the coffee maker.
"Ah, so she woke up with the sound of crashing waves, and almost two hundred pounds of you wrapped around her, and panicked," Danny surmised. "But Steve, that was unlike . . . that was the sound of sheer, unadulterated terror. Not confusion, not the tail end of a bad dream."
"That's because it was a flashback, Danny," Steve explained. "I was holding her, and it triggered a flashback. She wasn't dreaming about what happened, or remembering it . . . in that moment, she was there. She was back in that damn raft, with the water coming over the edge, and bodies on top of her, weighing it down . . ."
"Ah," Danny said. "So she talked to you about it?"
Steve shook his head. "Not so much as mumbled about it as she drifted off to sleep. But yeah, enough to let me know . . . it was bad, Danny. Her response is normal."
"Normal. This is normal," Danny said incredulously.
"Yes, Danny, for someone who has been subjected to this type of psychological torture, this is a normal, predictable response," Steve said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter defensively.
"Steve, babe, only in your world is it normal to be subjected to psychological torture," Danny reminded him gently.
Steve stared at Danny, horrified. "Danny, I . . . this is my fault -"
"Wait, Steve, no," Danny said, grabbing Steve by the shoulders. "This is not on you, partner. That's not what I meant. It's obvious that you knew how to respond to the situation, and I wouldn't have."
Steve looked at him, with a new face that Danny hadn't categorized yet.
"Hey, look on the bright side partner," Danny said, because he couldn't take that stricken look on Steve's face any longer.
"What?"
"She was terrified, and she was calling for you, Steven. Not Billy, or me, or Jake . . . you. That's something, right?" Danny asked, looking at Steve fondly.
Steve stared back at Danny, clearly fighting a mix of emotions.
"Steve," Danny sighed. "It's okay to be happy about that, buddy."
#*#*#*#*#
"And as far as I can tell," Max said solemnly, "that would have been the final injury inflicted before the fatal gunshot."
The team, standing around the smart table, was silent, as they had been since Max started his gruesome review. Caviness, who still had a light case load, had shown up again that morning with coffees for everyone and a chaste kiss on the cheek for Kono. Steve wasn't sure if he had shown up for Kono, for the team, to help track Novak, or simply for moral support, but regardless, he was thankful for his presence. He could see him watching Jax, analyzing her reaction to Max's horrifically detailed report.
She was standing next to Steve, shoulders squared, head high. But she'd flinched more than once during his litany of the torture Novak had inflicted on the Miobe brothers, and he wasn't sure that whatever she was sacrificing to maintain that control was worth it.
"I think," she said, her voice strangled; she cleared her throat and tried again, as Kono went to grab a bottle of water. "I was hoping maybe I just imagined it, or it was part of a nightmare at the hospital, but I think I might have asked Novak to kill them."
Her fingers clenched in a white knuckle grip around the edge of the smart table.
"While he was torturing them?" Caviness prompted gently, exchanging a look with Steve.
She nodded, accepting the water bottle from Kono with shaking hands.
"Jax, even if you did, you have to understand . . . that's on Novak," Steve said. "It's not an uncommon tactic among prisoners of war. It demoralizes the survivors. It doesn't mean that you're responsible."
She nodded silently. "He asked if I would do that for you," she said, looking directly up at Steve. "If I would be willing to beg him to kill you; how far I would be willing to go, what I would be willing to do to convince him to end your suffering. I'm almost certain of it."
Kono put a hand over her mouth, her eyes filling with tears.
"Okay, then maybe that's a clue," Steve said, calm, confident. "Maybe he plans to try to take me, at some point. Caviness, let's go over the surveillance again."
"You can't seriously be thinking of putting yourself out there as bait?" Danny interrupted.
"I'm certainly not ruling it out," Steve retorted.
Caviness was working with Chin to pull up the surveillance photos of the team that they'd found among the crated weapons that Novak had brought onto the island. In a moment, they were all up on the plasmas.
"The photos were superficial, and outdated," Caviness mused. "Jax and Grover are still wearing HPD gear."
"Nothing in these photos indicates an intimate knowledge of the team on Novak's part," Chin observed. "Anyone could have had this much access to us. There's no pictures of our family or friends."
"And yet, Novak knew just where to hit us," Steve said. "He made Danny think he'd hurt a little girl, tried to set up Chin and Kono as dirty cops . . . and when the Miobe brothers jumped ahead in his little game, he punished them, but then he got opportunistic, went ahead and played on our fears."
"Wait," Caviness said, "you're saying that he came up with ways to target specific fears?"
Steve glanced at Jax, raising his eyebrows in question. She nodded firmly. "Whatever you think will help, Steve; I'm not interested in keeping secrets from our family."
"Jax's fear of drowning," Steve said.
She nodded in agreement. "Restraining my hands, which may have just been part of making me think I was going to drown, or . . . well, it's an issue in and of itself."
Caviness turned to Steve. "What about you?"
"Not being able to protect my people," Steve replied instantly.
"That's a given; you're a Navy SEAL and a task force leader," Caviness said. "He had conversations with you . . . what did he say? Word choice is very telling."
"Well, the last thing he said was that perhaps this was my nightmare; feeling enraged, feeling impotent -"
Caviness held up a hand, interrupting him. "Specifically, he used the word impotent?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Well, not to overstep but . . . "
"What, am I shooting blanks?" Steve asked, incredulous. "I don't know. It's never come up."
Jax cleared her throat again and scuffed her boot on the ground. "Yeah, but . . . okay, might be completely unrelated but I might not be able . . . they don't know for sure, but there's some question on my part. I might not be able to have kids."
Kono carefully took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Caviness looked at the photos and back to the team a couple of times.
"The photos are superficial and dated, like Chin's supposed history of being a dirty cop. Superficial - no doubt it made the news; and dated - because obviously his name has been cleared, and then some. But Novak would understand how that lingers, how it affects the family. But then some of his knowledge is intimate," he repeated. "Like information that would be in your medical records. Your department psych records."
"Son of a bitch," Steve ground out.
"Medical records are surprisingly easy to access, or to hack," Caviness continued. "It's one of the things we have to be most careful of when creating new identities. Identifying features, like tattoos, scars, joint replacements . . . these things are as unique as fingerprints. His arrogance . . . he may have just slipped up."
"If the records have been hacked, we should be able to tell," Chin said. "I'll get the tech guys on it."
"I'll do you one better," Danny said.
"Toast?" Steve asked, incredulous. He shook his head and laughed. "Okay, well, we want results."
#*#*#*#*#
"He didn't cover his tracks very well," Toast mumbled, munching on a handful of trail mix.
"Arrogant bastard never thought we'd look," Steve said.
"Well, there you go," Toast said, casually pointing to a set of coordinates in North Korea. "That's where the hack came from, anyway."
"You're sure?" Danny asked.
"From that one IP address, someone has accessed medical records at two hospitals in Honolulu, and four in the greater New York metropolitan area. I'd say the odds are ever in your favor," Toast said, yawning.
Steve was already heading out the door, and Danny had to break into a light jog to catch up to his long stride.
"Catherine," Steve barked into the phone, "I've got a set of coordinates, I want satellite surveillance, facial recognition from every camera in a hundred mile radius . . . "
#*#*#*#*#
It was Danny's evening to have Grace, and besides, everyone was too fidgety and on edge to concentrate on cold cases or requisition forms.
"Go home," Steve said, just before three o'clock. "Or go surfing, or go . . . just go."
"Thank God," Kono muttered. Steve shot her a look and a raised eyebrow. "I love you boss, I do, but your pacing is making me dizzy." Caviness slipped out on her heels, followed by Chin.
"Anything at all comes up, page me," Grover said. "Otherwise, I'll be on the golf course. Feed that partner of mine, make sure she gets some decent rest," he added. "She looks like she's been drug through a hedge backwards."
"I'll be able to pick Gracie up from school," Danny commented. "Thanks, partner."
"Why don't you bring her over to the house?" Steve suggested. "We have a Five-O party to plan."
"You're sure?" Danny asked, surprised. He glanced at Jax.
"You're worried she'll be upset?" Jax asked, her fingers automatically going to the bruising on her face.
"Nah, not my Gracie," Danny said proudly. "Okay, we'll come over."
#*#*#*#*#
They usually ate outside, but between the scattered rain showers of the early evening, and the heavier plates of mac and cheese - Gracie's request - they'd shoved the detritus of paperwork off the dining table and spread out with dinner and legal pads to make meal and activity plans for a Five-O anniversary celebration.
Danny followed Steve into the kitchen, his hands full of plates, and almost crashed into him when Steve stopped short, looking back at the dining room.
"What - hey -" Danny sputtered, until he followed Steve's line of vision. "Oh," he said, smiling.
Gracie's bare feet dangled adorably a foot off the floor, and Jax's feet were next to hers, her toes barely grazing the carpet. Gracie was beaming up at Jax, her eyes sparkling in delight at some idea they'd agreed upon.
"Wow," Steve said reverently.
"Yeah," Danny agreed.
#*#*#*#*#
The call came, naturally, at three am.
"Steve?" It was Catherine's voice on the phone, and he was instantly wide awake.
"Yeah, Cath," he said, pulling on pants and grabbing his gun and badge.
Jax sat up at that, and rummaged for her clothing as well, watching Steve intently.
"I want to go," he said. There was a long pause. "Team Five? Yeah. Okay." Another long pause. "We'll see you there."
"They found something?" Jax said, mumbling around her toothbrush.
"They found someone," Steve said, shoving his feet into his boots.
#*#*#*#*#
The situation room was a tight fit, but every single one of the team managed to squeeze in. Caviness had arrived with Kono, whose shirt was on inside out, and Chin was silently contemplating that situation with a raised eyebrow.
"Facial recognition picked Novak up, two miles from the coordinates your . . . colleague gave us," Catherine said, queuing up a grainy night vision broadcast that showed three SEALs and the occasional boot of the fourth, the one wearing the body camera. "We sent in an intelligence officer to confirm and we believe this is indeed Novak's base of operation."
"You only sent in a four man fire team?" Steve asked.
"We were prepped for a squad of eight," Catherine replied, "but there's been no indication of additional personnel. Novak appears to be working alone."
"Most sociopaths do," Caviness said.
They watched in amazement and awe as the four men breached the nondescript cinderblock house. There was no audio, which Danny absently thought might have made it seen a bit more dramatic, and within moments, two of the SEALs had a man between them, his hands zip tied. The third SEAL tilted his face toward the camera.
Steve nodded at Catherine. "Confirmed. Positive ID of Declan Novak."
Catherine picked up a small microphone. "Confirmed. You have Declan Novak in custody." She turned and smiled at the team. "Congratulations. Your six member task force accomplished what my Naval Intelligence team couldn't."
"We couldn't have done it without Naval Intel," Steve said graciously. "Thanks for the satellite."
Catherine rolled her eyes. "Anytime, sailor."
Jax was still staring at the screen, which now showed a jumble of images from the back seat of a rapidly moving armored vehicle. "That's it?" she asked, her voice quiet.
"That's it," Catherine confirmed, a gentle hand on Jax's shoulder. "It's over, Officer Nolan. He's in the custody of the US Navy, and he'll be held on charges of arms and human trafficking and prosecuted by the Department of Justice and the United Nations Security Council."
Jax nodded numbly. "Okay." Danny discreetly took her hand. It was unnerving, to say the least, to be part of taking down an international criminal; this wasn't something they trained for in New Jersey.
They all filed out of the room, thanking the officers who had allowed them into the secure area. Catherine put her hand on Steve's elbow and he turned back to her.
"Steve," she said quietly, "the file sharing went both ways. I just wanted to say, on a personal note . . . I'm sorry. For what you've been through. For what Jacqueline has been through."
Steve nodded. "Thanks, Catherine. We'll be okay."
"Steve, she . . . she's a great cop, and a gifted medic, but she wasn't trained for this. I wasn't trained for this. Not like you were. Just because you've been trained to understand the nature of psychological torture, prepare for it on some level, recover from it . . . she hasn't been," Catherine warned. "If there's anything we can do . . . you have access to the best the Navy has to offer, just remember that."
#*#*#*#*#
It was late afternoon when they all gathered at Steve's, a little worn around the edges, but they'd all agreed that they would be too wired to rest anyway.
"I can get behind adding celebrating Novak's capture to celebrating two years of Five-O," Chin said, clinking his Longboard against Steve's.
"Hooyah," Steve agreed.
There was a blur of dark pigtails headed for Danny. "Danno!" Gracie yelled, as she came full speed around the side of the house. Danny caught her with ease as she launched herself at him. Rachel appeared a moment later, looking perplexed.
"Gracie?" she called.
"Over here, mommy!" Gracie called back from her perch in Danny's arms.
"I'm sorry, Daniel, she just sprinted off the minute I slowed the car," Rachel said, nervously pushing her hair out of her face.
"It's fine, Rachel," Steve said, loping over to join them. "Gracie is at home here; there's no need to stand on formalities. You drove her over?"
"Yes, I . . . well, she was quite excited, and Stan is working and the driver is otherwise engaged," Rachel said. "I wasn't going to keep her waiting."
"Thank you, mommy," Gracie chimed in. "You should stay here. We have the best food planned, and I'm going to help grill the chicken, and Auntie Kono said she will help me surf. And Auntie Jax is going to let me help cut up all the fruit, because I'm learning how to use knives safely in the kitchen."
"I don't want to impose . . ." Rachel said, hesitating.
"There's going to be a sandcastle building contest," Gracie continued, "and you can be on the team with me and Danno. Please?"
Rachel looked at Danny. "We'd love to have you stay, Rach," he said. "If you like."
Steve grinned at her and handed her a Longboard. She took a skeptical sip. "Lovely," she said, trying not to make a face.
Jax had wandered up by that point, and she tilted her head back and laughed. "Steve, don't tease," she said, taking Rachel by the hand. "I have a very nice white wine spritzer in the kitchen, Rachel," she said, leading her inside the house.
"This is lovely," Rachel said again, as they entered the kitchen.
"It feels like home," Jax said, as she poured a drink and handed it to Rachel. "I'm glad you're here. It's nice, for Gracie, to have you both here, I think." She shrugged. "I guess. Sorry, I actually don't know the first thing about kids. But she seems happy."
"Thank you for making me feel welcome," Rachel said, "you and Steve. Jax," she hesitated. "I need to ask you something. You said something at the hospital . . . "
Jax groaned and covered her face with her hands. "I knew it. I knew you were just being polite in front of Danny. I'm sorry; what did I say? Something about thigh holsters? Tattoos? God, please don't tell me I made a comment about the size- never mind."
Rachel laughed. It was the first time Jax had heard her laugh since the early days, when Gracie was a toddler, before things had gone wrong. She remembered Danny being crazy in love with Rachel, before the stress and strain of being married to a cop had made Rachel cold and distant.
"No, you didn't . . . actually you said something about Danny," Rachel said.
"Oh no, that's even worse," Jax said. "You have to understand, I've never been legitimately attracted to Danny, but he is sweet, and so kind -"
"And still in love with me?" Rachel blurted out, before she lost her nerve.
Jax paled and sat down on the kitchen stool. "Rachel, I - I don't remember saying that. I was so doped up."
"But it's true?" Rachel asked.
Jax nodded. "Yeah. I'm so sorry. Danny wouldn't . . . we sort of badgered him into saying it one night; we were trying to convince him to start dating again, we didn't realize . . . I didn't mean to betray a confidence. If he wanted you to know that, it should have come from him."
"Jax, you were completely snockered," Rachel said. "No one will blame you, and I won't say anything to Danny. I just . . . I didn't know if it was true, or if you were just rambling."
"Why does it matter to you?" Jax asked quietly.
"Because . . . it might be mutual," Rachel said, taking a sip of her drink.
"Seriously?" Jax blurted. "Do I look like the person to tell secrets to? Rachel, I will do my best to honor your privacy but the next time I get hurt, there's a decent chance I'm gonna spill that out while I'm . . . snockered."
"I'm aware of that," Rachel said, with a shrug. "Now, shall we go see about this sand castle contest? What can you tell me about my competition?"
#*#*#*#*#
"That was amazing," Steve said, after the last bottle had been cleared and the kitchen swept. It was well past midnight and they were the best kind of exhausted.
Second best kind of exhausted, Steve's brain corrected.
"It was fun," Jax agreed. "Rachel really hit it off with Renee; that was nice."
"And Chin was polite to Caviness," Steve continued, turning off the lights and setting the security system.
"Because Malia threatened him," Jax laughed. "No, Caviness is a good guy. He's . . . perceptive." She started heading up the stairs.
"Hey," Steve said, tugging on her hand, and she stopped and turned, standing a couple of steps above him so that he could see her eyes. "A lot of stuff came up, with Caviness profiling the team, and Novak. Are you okay with that?"
"Yeah, I am," she said, nodding. "I mean, it helped solve the case, right? And, I'm pretty much a disaster . . . not like I'm fooling anybody." She dropped her eyes. "They may as well know," she added, mumbling.
"Ku'uipo," Steve sighed. "I'm still sorry that your privacy had to be impacted in that way." He stepped up one more step and wrapped her in his arms. She sighed happily and snuggled against him.
"People don't keep a lot of secrets around here," she chuckled.
"What?" Steve demanded, holding her at arms' length and smiling down at her. "What do you know?"
She grinned at him. "Classified."
And then there was laughter, and a bit of a scuffle, and somehow Jax found herself off her feet and in Steve's arms.
He placed her carefully in the center of their bed, propped on his elbow next to her. With one finger he traced over the cut just at her hairline, down her still-bruised cheek and jaw. He lifted her hands one at a time and pressed careful kisses against the abrasions around her wrists which had just started to heal.
"I'm sorry I let them get the drop on me," she whispered.
"I'm sorry I can't keep you safe," he whispered back.
"I don't blame you," she protested.
"Then stop blaming yourself," he countered.
"Are we going to have an argument now?" she asked, her eyes twinkling. "I mean, I do have a temper. Arguments are inevitable. But I hear rumors that make-up sex is incredible."
"Let's just skip the argument part," Steve suggested. "And go straight for incredible."
#*#*#*#*#
A/N: So many readers have commented that they hope to see Steve and Jax get their "happily ever after" . . . I have quite a few ideas of case fics, and of course Kono and Caviness and Rachel and Danny need to get their acts together, and Jax and Mary need to meet . . . and of course, it's obvious, right, that things were just a little too easy with our arch nemesis? . . . all of that said, however, I'm considering skipping "indefinitely ahead" in the timeline of this universe and writing the happily ever after story for Steve and Jax for NaNoWriMo. It would be a stand-alone story in the series so readers could take it or leave it as it suits them. What do you think?