A/N: This was not the chapter I was planning to write. Well, some of it was. Some of it came out of nowhere and I hesitated about including it; but it seems that those unplanned, unscripted bits are often the bits that resonate most deeply with some of my readers so . . . I hope you don't hate it.
Nothing too graphic, but this chapter does deal with the aftermath of some of Jax's previous experiences. Pretty sure it's still well within the T rating.
#*#*#*#*#
"There's going to be paperwork," Steve mused. The faint rays of early morning sunshine seeped through the new curtains they'd hung just before everything went to hell. His fingers combed absently through Jax's riotous curls, spread over his shoulder.
"Paperwork? On the case?" Jax asked. "Before coffee?"
"No, paperwork for - because we're married," he explained. "Insurance, and the house . . . you'll need a new driver's license, and - bank accounts. Should we get a joint account?"
Pupule scratched at the bedroom door.
"I - need to go feed the cat," Jax said, bolting so quickly that she almost face-planted, her feet tangling in the sheets.
"Jax?" Steve asked uncertainly, as she fled the room in a blur of Annapolis blue t-shirt and vibrant red hair. "Shit," he mumbled to himself.
He moved through his morning routine quickly, and was dressed and downstairs just as she was pouring a cup of coffee. Pupule eyed him coldly over his food dish. Jax looked up as he came into the kitchen, and wordlessly poured a second cup of coffee and slid it to him.
"Sorry." "I'm sorry." They spoke over each other.
Steve gestured to Jax.
"I don't know how any of this works. I don't know if we should get a joint account because I don't know how any of that stuff works. I just had enough, in New York, to pay my part of the rent and buy food. That was all I needed." She stopped and took a breath. "So, I'm sorry I - I just panicked."
Steve stared at her. "Okay, first of all, I've never even asked someone to live with me, until you, and I have no idea how this really works, either. My dad shipped me off to military prep school before I had more than a paper route. I went to Annapolis on scholarship, then straight into the Navy, where my checks were direct deposited into the Navy credit union. The house is mine and Mary's, free and clear. I paid cash for the truck out of a hazardous duty paycheck."
Jax's eyes widened, impressed. "That was some hazardous duty."
He grinned at her. "It was awesome. I wish it wasn't classified, I really do, because man, I could tell you that story and I would get laid, I just know it."
She snorted coffee out of her nose and Pupule looked up in alarm. Steve handed her a napkin.
"My point being, I don't know how this works, either. By the time I was old enough to even pay attention, my mom was gone and . . . I have no idea, either, how any of this works."
"So what do we do?" Jax asked.
Steve pondered for a moment. "Danny and Grover. They've gotta know all this stuff, right?"
She nodded emphatically.
"Okay, so we'll ask them to help us sort it out. If you're comfortable with them, you know, kind of knowing about our private stuff," Steve said.
"They've both seen both of us in our skivvies, when we've been injured," Jax pointed out. "Pretty sure I can handle them knowing about our life insurance. Hey, we should definitely have that."
"We all have policies through Five-O," Steve said. "I had Danny set up as your beneficiary. You signed the paperwork, did you not realize . . . "
She shrugged. "I trusted you and Danny."
"You should have at least read it," he argued.
"Did you read everything the Navy put in front of you before you went on a mission?"
"No. Hunh. So, we talk to Danny and Grover," Steve said, nodding in satisfaction.
Mission objective established. This marriage thing was going to be a success.
#*#*#*#*#
"Wedding shower, a surprise one," Kono said, marching off the elevator.
"I don't think Steve and Jax appreciate surprises," Chin said, one step behind her.
"Reception, then," Kono said. "Something. Chin - they got married. We have to do something."
"I think Steve is pretty single-minded right now," Chin said gently. "Maybe not in a mood to celebrate."
"Hmm," Kono nodded. "When Jax's stitches come out, then."
"And ask them," Chin said sternly. "Seriously. You do not want a bunch of people jumping out from behind the sofa or the shrubbery and yelling surprise at the two of them."
"You can say that again," Grover said, ambling out of his office. "Speaking of, where is our fearless leader and his lovely bride? I see the truck."
"Armory," Danny said, coming out of his office and joining them at the smart table.
Kono grinned wickedly.
"The Champs box," Danny said, holding a finger up in warning. "Ostensibly."
"Break out the word-a-day calendar again, Danny?" Steve said, as he and Jax stepped off the elevator. He held the red box in his hand.
"Are we gonna start digging into that?" Kono asked.
"Possibly," Steve said. "I'm going to keep it locked in my office and at least work on it between cases. Do we have anything new from the facial recognition?"
Chin's fingers were flying over the smart table. "I'm checking to see if anything came back from my inquiries to Interpol. With the time differences, sometimes replies come in the middle of the night." He paused, scanning through, and then - "Ah. Here we go." A few more keystrokes and a message appeared on the main plasma. "A file from the Interpol office in North Korea."
Steve's eyes scanned the brief message, with the attached photo. A more recent, less grainy photo of -
"Doc," Jax murmured.
"Interpol has been tracking his movement through North Korea," Chin said. "A person of interest. No mention as to what their interest is, though."
"North Korea is where we picked up Hesse," Steve said quietly. His phone buzzed, and he glanced at it, frowning in confusion as he answered. "Commander Lear? Hello, sir."
There was a long pause.
"Respectfully, sir, I am not investigating this under the jurisdiction of the Navy. This is a Five-O Task Force investigation. No, sir, because it wasn't a Naval officer that was the target; it was my sister. And the actual . . . person who was kidnapped was a member of my team. So, no, sir, I do not see how the Navy can give - well, you'd be welcome to come to our offices, sir, or video conference," Steve said.
Another long pause.
"To Pearl," Steve said flatly. "In uniform? Sir, do you really - yes sir. But my team comes with me, it's non-negotiable. Yes sir, one hour." He pressed the end button on his phone.
"What's going on?" Chin asked, as Steve tossed the phone on the smart table in disgust.
"Five-O has been given a cease and desist order," he snarled. "Again. Just like with Novak."
"Navy? Special Activities?" Danny asked, incredulous.
"They want us at Pearl for debriefing in an hour. I'm to be in uniform," Steve sighed. "I'm sorry, guys. It seems like between my family and my position in the reserves . . . damn it. What a clusterfuck."
"Steve, you couldn't have known where this was going," Danny said. "We're with you, partner."
"Yeah, boss," Kono agreed.
Jax slipped her hand into his. "I'm kinda stuck with you," she said, grinning up at him.
#*#*#*#*#
Jax couldn't help it. Steve, in uniform . . . he kept a set at the office. He'd changed in the locker room and she'd tilted her head appreciatively when he emerged. Grover smacked her oh-so-gently on the back of the head - she still looked fragile, as far as he was concerned - and grinned at her.
They rode to Pearl in their usual configurations.
"So the Navy says jump, and you say how high?" Danny complained. "Will the Navy always outrank Five-O?"
"Yes, Danny," Steve said, exasperated. "I don't like it, either, but what do you want me to do? If I weren't in the reserves, we wouldn't even be read in and given whatever information we're about to be given. We'd be told to cease and desist, that would be it. We'd be left in the dark. My position in the reserves at least gives me some leverage."
"Leverage to do what? Keep finding international criminals for the military?"
"Well, yeah. Come on, Danny. Don't tell me that this never happened when you were a detective back in Jersey. You get a big case, turns out the FBI or the DEA or some other agency was already all over it. They step in, pull rank, you've done half of their work for them," Steve said.
"Yeah, yeah," Danny groused. "I didn't like it then, either."
#*#*#*#*#
They went through security at Pearl, and were led down a series of corridors, ending in a room that Danny thought looked like something from a movie. The door opened, and they were greeted by Commander Lear.
"Thank you for coming, Lieutenant Commander," he said, emphasizing the lieutenant part of Steve's title ever-so-slightly.
"I believe you ordered me to, sir," Steve said. "And I'd appreciate knowing why."
The door opened and closed again, and Catherine was in the room.
"Lieutenant Rollins, do you have the files?" Commander Lear asked.
"I do, sir," she said. She glanced apologetically at the team as she handed over a flash drive to the commander.
"It would seem that once again, your work as a civilian has crossed paths with your experiences in Naval Intelligence," Lear said, inserting the flash drive into a laptop on the conference table. Several large plasmas screens lit up.
Chin noticed, with some satisfaction, that the screens were not nearly as nice as the ones at Five-O. Three pictures appeared on the screens.
"We understand that you've been requesting help from Interpol in identifying these three individuals," Lear continued. "As it turns out, the Navy has . . . an interest in one of them."
"Like you had an interest in Novak?" Steve said. His voice sounded level. Calm. But Danny knew that it was a deceptively controlled rage.
Catherine must have, as well, because she shot a nervous glance at him.
"Yes," Lear said. He enlarged the photo of the Asian man. "As you well remember, Declan Novak tried to ingratiate himself with Victor Novak."
"Yeah, by delivering Steve to him on a silver platter," Danny said. Jax recognized the dangerous edge to his voice, and wondered if the Navy really knew what her new ohana was made of.
"And in return, Hesse left Novak for dead before turning his . . . attention on Commander McGarrett," Lear continued.
"If by attention, you mean he tortured him mercilessly and damn near killed him, then yes," Chin said, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't share Steve and Jax's tendency to minimize things.
"Before Novak expired, we got a name out of him," Lear continued. He had included the Five-O team under protest, and was conveniently ignoring them.
"I remember," Steve said tightly. "The name WoFat."
"Does it mean anything to you?" Lear asked.
"No. Neither does the name Shelburne," Steve said, "but I'm going to assume they're connected."
"You assume correctly. This is WoFat," Lear said, pointing to the picture. "He is the one looking for Shelburne. He is the one Hesse and Novak answered to, when they were alive. So there's the connection between the Hesse brothers and Declan Novak - WoFat. When the Navy sent you after Novak, and then after Anton Hesse - this was the purpose. The target. WoFat."
Steve crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Lear. "You kept me in the dark."
"It was need to know."
"WoFat is looking for Shelburne. What's the connection to my family?" Steve demanded.
"Why are you so certain this has to do with your family?" Lear asked.
"Stop playing dumb. You know damn well why I am certain this has something to do with my family. You know why we're looking at these men - because WoFat didn't send those two lackeys of his after my team," Steve snapped. "He sent them after my sister, and the assholes kidnapped my wife instead."
Catherine inhaled sharply, her eyes widening. Even Commander Lear looked momentarily stunned.
"Officer Nolan, is this, or is this not, the man who had you briefly in . . . custody?" Lear asked.
"It is," Jax said.
"Custody? That's what we're calling it?" Kono demanded.
"We regret that you were detained and subsequently injured," Lear said. "Our contact assured us that he could control the situation."
"Doc was yours?" Jax asked incredulously. "He was Navy?"
Lear looked at her in confusion.
"She named them," Steve snarled, gesturing at the pictures on either side of WoFat's. "According to the US Marshal who helped me track her, it's what kidnapping victims often do, to cope with the situation. They went after my sister, Jax protected her and let them take her instead. Then they held her, roughed her up, shot her, and left her for dead. Damn near succeeded when an infection took hold. And I'm dangerously close to thinking you knew about it the whole damn time, and I want to know what the hell is going on."
"I'm genuinely sorry for your ordeal, Officer . . . Nolan," Lear said uncertainly. "WoFat is near the top of the food chain in the arms trade. The Hesse brothers were a bit further down, with Novak beneath them. WoFat was our ultimate target. We had hopes that Novak and the Hesse brothers would give up some information. Unfortunately, neither of those situations worked out. We thought the trail had run cold until . . . "
"Until our Interpol search was flagged," Steve finished, rubbing his hand over his face.
"What did WoFat want from you?" Lear asked, addressing Jax.
"Shelburne," Jax said. "He thought I was Mary, and he asked about Shelburne."
"Which means, Lieutenant Commander, that you are correct. This quest of WoFat's - it's about your family. Your father. Not the Navy," Lear said. "Which means you are both a valuable source of information, and a target. As was made obvious by the attempt to take your sister."
"So why not let us track this guy down," Steve said, gesturing. "Seems to me we've made more progress than the Navy."
"If getting kidnapped is progress," Lear retorted. "This is beyond the scope of a six person civilian team, McGarrett. Given what you've been through . . . you deserved to be read in. And your demand to have your team accompany you was a concession that we were willing to make, given their pain and suffering as collateral damage."
Steve took a menacing step toward Lear. What he lacked in rank, he made up for in size.
"Collateral damage?" Steve said quietly. "You knew this animal was out there, searching for something that has a connection to my family, and you did nothing? You gave me nothing to go on, nothing with which to protect my family?" He gestured behind him. "Some of my team have children. Children, Commander Lear. What if WoFat's intel had been better? What if he'd had more up-to-date information on my team, their families? Just how much blood do you think you could have on your hands right now? As it is, I sat next to my wife not knowing if she was going to make it through the night, sitting there helpless as she relived . . ." He broke off, his hands clenched in fists.
Catherine stole a blatantly curious glance at Jax. There was that word again: wife.
"Lieutenant Commander, I'm genuinely sorry," Lear said. "But now you understand - this is what you're up against. One of the three most prolific arms dealers in all the world. He's the big fish; we've been chasing bait hoping to find a lead. And then, lo and behold, he finds you."
"Because he's looking for Shelburne," Steve said flatly. "God help me, if you know what Shelburne is . . . "
"We don't," Lear said. "We don't," he repeated, when the rest of the team looked at him skeptically. "We were hoping you did."
"If I did, I would tell you, just to try to protect my people," Steve said. "But I don't. Mary doesn't. We don't know what it means, Commander."
"Who is he, really?" Jax said, out of the blue. She was looking at the picture of the kidnapper she had nicknamed Doc.
Lear looked at her in surprise.
"What?" she said, putting her hands on her hips. "He interfered and intervened the best he could. He saved my life - he did," she said, as Steve protested. "I'd like to know who the hell he really is."
"He's not one of ours," Lear said, finally. "He's Irish Intelligence. G2. Sometimes we work together on matters of mutual interest."
"And by 'we' you mean . . ." Grover said, raising his eyebrows.
"You'd probably be happier not knowing that," Lear said.
Grover looked at Steve, who nodded and shrugged.
"Well, what now," Steve demanded. "Are you suggesting we stand down? Because that didn't work so well with Novak, did it?"
"We didn't have someone on the inside with Novak," Lear argued. "Agent Brogan has found his way into WoFat's inner circle. He's the best intel, the best inside angle, that we've had in the ten years we've been tracking WoFat. We can't afford for your team to blow his cover. We're ordering you to stand down in order to let us continue what we've already started."
"What you've already started almost got Jax killed," Danny said flatly. "Tell us why we should trust you."
"It's more a matter of orders than of trust," Lear said.
"We're civilians," Danny argued, his temper flaring. "You can't -"
"They can, Danny," Steve said quietly. "If they label it an issue of national security, they can do pretty much anything they want." He looked reproachfully at Catherine. "So I was bait, too? For the big fish. That's why they had you keep me on the hook, right? WoFat, Shelburne . . . my God, Catherine, do you even have a soul?"
"That's enough, Lieutenant Commander," Lear said sharply. "Lieutenant Rollins has followed the orders of her superiors to the letter. She's an exemplary officer. Officer Nolan will need to be debriefed. We need to know everything you know; no matter how insignificant you believe the information to be, we need everything."
"We can share our files," Steve said, resigned.
Commander Lear shook his head. "No. We conduct our own interview. And we'll review your files."
Steve drew himself up to his full height again, ready to explode in argument, but Jax's small hand on his chest silenced him.
"Steve," she said quietly. "Whatever we need to do to keep Mary safe."
#*#*#*#*#
The rest of the team had been sent, protesting, back to the palace. Jax sat across the table from Lear and Catherine, and two other Naval officers while Steve paced on the other side of a one-way mirror. The young ensign assigned to accompany him glanced at him with expressions that alternated between sympathy and alarm.
"You're sure they never called each other by name?" Lear asked, for the fourth time.
"Never," Jax said without hesitation. "Not in my presence. Not while I was conscious." She rubbed her jaw absently, remembering the vicious backhand from Grumpy when everything had started to go south. It was still bruised, and tender. Catherine winced in sympathy, and Jax quickly moved her hand.
"Did he ask you about Shelburne directly?" Lear pressed. Again.
"As I've already told you, no," Jax said. "He told them to dispose of me. And then I overheard him say to Doc - Agent Brogan - on the way out the door, 'I'm further from Shelburne than ever'."
"And then what?" another officer questioned.
"And then they started to cut me loose, and I fought. Hard. Do - Agent Brogan cut through the zip ties, and -"
"You were restrained, then," an officer interrupted.
"Zip-tied, to a chair, it's been established," Jax said.
"Continue."
"When I had a hand free, and a foot, I tried - I managed to get in a couple of punches, one solid kick. But it knocked my chair over backwards, and one wrist and ankle was still restrained, and that's the last thing I remember," Jax said.
"What, exactly, is the last thing you remember?" Lear asked, frowning at a piece of paper in front of him.
"My head, connecting with the floor," Jax said. "I was aware of voices, movement, but not . . . I was incapacitated at that point."
"You couldn't continue to fight?" Lear questioned.
"No, I couldn't, I was -" Jax stopped, her mind flooding with the memory of what she'd felt in that moment, before the darkness had claimed her completely. Helpless. Weak. She swallowed convulsively.
"Sir, I believe the officer could use a break," Catherine said gently. "Perhaps the restroom, some water? Coffee?"
Jax nodded gratefully.
"She has to be accompanied. This is a secure area," Lear said, waving his hand dismissively at Catherine.
"Understood, sir," Catherine said. She stood, and opened the door, gesturing for Jax to come with her. Steve tried to remember the layout of this corridor, tried to anticipate where they would emerge, but Lear was a step ahead of him.
"Lieutenant Commander McGarrett, you're to stay where you are," he said, looking in the general direction of the mirror. "You've already taken a statement for Five-O; you're not to influence the witness during our investigation."
Steve smacked the window in frustration. "Interrogation," he growled, even though he knew Lear couldn't hear him.
#*#*#*#*#
Jax splashed cold water on her face with shaking hands.
"Here," Catherine said quietly, handing her a length of paper toweling. "Do I understand correctly that . . . congratulations are in order?"
"Yeah," Jax said, pressing her face into the towel. "There was an undercover op that turned out to be . . . the set-up was fake but the chaplain didn't . . . anyway. Yeah. I'm sure that's not the way Steve intended for you to find out."
Catherine nodded slowly, meeting Jax's eyes in the mirror over the sink. "I wish you both happiness," she said. "I just hope that . . . I hope you can give him everything he deserves."
Jax stared back at her for a split second before Catherine gestured back to the door.
"We better go finish up," she said. "Commander Lear doesn't like interruptions."
#*#*#*#*#
The sun was starting to set by the time Steve and Jax pulled through the security gate at Pearl.
"I'm so sorry," he murmured, glancing over at her. Lines of fatigue and pain were etched around her eyes and mouth. "About everything. I can't believe . . . the way they questioned you, I'm sorry. I tried to go over Lear's head, but he's a favorite among the brass."
"Does he get the job done?" Jax asked quietly.
"Yeah, but -"
"No. It . . . if it had been anyone else, other than me, it probably wouldn't have bothered you," Jax pointed out. "They were just doing their jobs, Steve. To try to find WoFat. To keep Mary safe." She closed her eyes and rested her head against the window of the truck, and Steve felt like she was entirely too far away. "Can we go home?" she asked, her voice quiet.
"We're going home," he answered. "I sent everyone else home for the day. We'll regroup tomorrow."
"Good," she said, smiling.
He put his arm on the back of the seat and rubbed his fingers gently over her injured shoulder.
"I'm sorry I can't swim. Again," she said. "I love swimming with you. I miss it."
"Soon," he said, still rubbing her shoulder, still wishing she weren't so far away. "Scoot closer?"
She slid closer to him, sighing as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Better?" she asked.
"Much," he said, threading his fingers through her curls. He smiled as he felt her relax against him, and wasn't surprised when he glanced down at the next stoplight to find her dozing lightly. He continued to drive, enjoying the gentle weight of her head on his shoulder as he angled the truck through the light, post-rush traffic.
She sensed the change in speed as he pulled into the driveway and lifted her head, rolling her neck to alleviate the stiffness that had set in. They walked up the porch steps hand in hand, and as he opened the front door, he automatically removed his cover and tucked it under his arm. Quickly setting the alarm code, he bent to kiss her on the cheek. Her fingers traced over the name tape on his uniform, and her eyes sparkled.
"Commander McGarrett," she said, her voice low and raspy from fatigue.
"Mrs. McGarrett," he replied. "Wait. We never talked about that."
She put a finger over his lips. "I can think of better things to . . . talk about," she said. She tugged on his hand and he willingly followed her to the sofa, laughing as she shoved playfully at him and plopping down unceremoniously onto the soft, worn cushion. He expected her to slip onto his lap, as she'd done so many times, and his eyes widened in surprise when she knelt on the floor in front of him.
"Jax," he whispered, as her hands slid over the name tapes once more, and then down to the front of his uniform pants. "What are you doing?" he murmured, as her fingers sought out the buttons and she began to pop them open.
Catherine's voice echoed in her mind. I just hope you can give him everything he deserves.
She looked up at him in the dim light of the living room, the last rays of daylight barely filtering through the blinds. "All those years of Naval Intel, and you're not sure?" she asked.
"You've never . . . we haven't . . . " he hesitated. "If this is going to bring back . . . Jax, you don't need . . ."
"Shh," she said, her fingers still working deftly on the buttons. "Let me . . . "
His head hit the back of the sofa with a solid thunk, and for a few moments he was blissfully unaware of anything but pure sensation.
So. Damn. Good. his brain managed, in a semi-coherent stream of consciousness. His fingers slid into her hair and then down her neck, resting lightly, and he could feel her pulse racing. So fast. Too fast, the thought registered. Too fast, his brain agreed.
"Hey," he managed, hoarsely, cupping his palm around the side of her face and gently, gently tipping her head up to face him. "Jax . . . shit . . ." he panted, calling up a considerable reserve of self-control.
"It wasn't -" she murmured, dropping her eyes.
"Oh, no, it - shit, wow - it was - it . . .hmm," he blinked, trying to get his neurons to fire in the right direction and speak, damn it. He took her shaking hands in his and stood, pulling her gently to her feet along with him. "Bedroom," he whispered, wrapping his hands around her waist and boosting her up, and striding purposefully toward the stairs.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and he tried to navigate the stairs with his pants slipping down over his hips, his boots catching on the risers, and his arms full of her.
"Steady, sailor," she murmured, her lips grazing against his neck, making him growl.
Pupule made a show of protest by stalking down the stairs as they went up, his tail swishing in irritation.
"I think he questions your intentions," Jax said, as Steve held her with one hand and turned the door handle with the other.
"Questionable. My intentions are questionable . . . "
#*#*#*#*#
Their legs were tangled with each other and with the sheets, and moonlight illuminated the neat row of stitches on Jax's shoulder. Steve's fingers brushed over them, barely touching.
"Hmm," she mumbled, her lips brushing his chest.
"Sorry, that hurt?" he asked, drowsy.
"No, feel'sgood," she said. "The stitches are starting to itch."
His fingers continued their hypnotic movement.
"You have a scar fetish?" she teased.
"Never did before," he said. "Maybe now. Just yours."
She looked up at him; his eyes were closed, a half smile on his face. Goofy, Danny would have said. Her fingers mimicked his, tracing over the small scars on his ribcage, courtesy of Victor Hesse.
I hope you can give him everything he deserves, Catherine's voiced echoed, again..
"So, Rachel is about half way through her pregnancy," Jax murmured. "Halfway. So soon. It's awesome, isn't it, Danny having another baby?"
"Yeah," Steve agreed. His arm tightened around her just slightly.
"I mean, Gracie is so cute. I knew Danny wanted more kids. I'm glad it's working out for him," she continued. "It's good. Kids."
"Gracie's awesome," Steve said, yawning. "Great kid. This one'll be great, too. Maybe this one'll have Danny's hair," he added, chuckling. "S'great. Kids are great."
The stress of the day had melted away, and he let the pull of sleep claim him. "Love you," he murmured, kissing the top of Jax's head, his hand splayed possessively on her hip, as he drifted off.
She stared into the darkening room.
Everything he deserves.
#*#*#*#*#
He was drifting toward wakefulness; his dreams pleasant for a change. Images flitted through his mind. Jax, her hands tracing over the name tapes on his uniform, skimming down, pushing him down, laughing, onto the sofa. Taking her shaking hands in his, pulling her up . . . carrying her up the stairs . . .
Her hands. Shaking? He blinked, awake, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.
Shit.
He closed his eyes again, remembering . . . her hands, seeking out the buttons on his Navy working uniform. Her fingers, so agile, her hands so strong and adept at bandages, the lean strength he'd seen so many times in the field . . .
He'd taken her hands in his and pulled her up, from where she was kneeling, her small frame tucked neatly between his boots. He'd taken her shaking hands into his and pulled her up . . .
Shit. Shit shit shit.
He'd started to ask, and she'd replied . . . he closed his eyes again, playing it back.
If this is going to bring back . . . he'd started.
Let me, she'd replied.
Shit. Let me. Not, it won't or I'm okay.
Let me.
There was no weight on his chest and shoulder; no slim leg curved around his. He sat up in the dark, reaching for her side of the bed. Empty.
"Shit," he muttered aloud, grabbing his running shorts from the chair in the corner and hopping into them, almost tripping in his haste. A pair of golden eyes glowed reproachfully at him. Their door was slightly ajar, and Pupule had slipped in, and was now sitting on the dresser like a fluffy gargoyle.
"I know, buddy, I missed it," Steve said.
"Rrroowwwwr," Pupule scolded.
Steve descended the staircase, deliberately making a slight noise. They'd learned early on that it never ended well when one of them accidentally startled the other in the dark night hours. He couldn't hear anything from the kitchen, so he stuck his head in toward his desk. Nothing. Frowning, he checked the downstairs bathroom and laundry room. Nothing.
He felt a thread of panic start to pool in his gut, as he glanced out the kitchen window, and then let out a sigh of relief at the sight of light pooling from the garage onto the lawn. He headed for the back door, grabbing a couple of water bottles out of the refrigerator on his way by.
He went out of the door and toward the garage, going in quietly but not silently.
Jax was leaning into the engine block of the Supra, the worn, oil-stained cut-off shorts that she kept in the garage riding low on her hips. She didn't acknowledge his presence, but she didn't flinch or startle when he came to stand next to hear, leaning on the front of the car.
"Why?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.
"I couldn't sleep, thought I'd work on -"
"No. Why?" he repeated.
She tightened a bolt, and he watched. Her hands were steady and strong. Sure. Not shaking.
"I was . . . I missed it, because . . . damn it, Jax, I missed it. I took your hands to pull you up and your hands were fucking shaking. And you . . . that's why I'd never, never, because I just - with everything you've been through, I didn't want . . ."
"You didn't," she said quickly. "It was . . . I wanted to. It's no big deal."
"You have the steadiest hands I've ever seen, and they were shaking, and you didn't stop, you didn't say anything, you just . . ." he grabbed her hands again, making her stop what she was doing. She kept her eyes fixed on the engine block, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
"You didn't stop," he whispered, his voice anguished. "If I hadn't stopped you, would - why? Why put yourself through . . ."
"You deserve . . . we're married, Steve. Married, and you deserve . . . and if I can't - it's not fair. To you," she mumbled.
"I don't care, I've never cared," he insisted. "What we have is amazing."
She shrugged, still refusing to meet his eyes. "You deserve more. Someone who can . . . who doesn't have all . . . the marriage thing, it was a fluke. You don't have to stick it out."
He slid his legs out in front of him until he was sitting on the bumper of the car, so that he could look her in the eyes. "What the actual hell, Jax? I thought we both wanted to be married?"
"It's sweet of you, it is," she said, "but . . . " she shook her head, looking past him to the workbench and then dropping her eyes. He followed her line of vision. A photo shoved in the frame of the pegboard caught his eye. Gracie, beaming toothlessly. Jax had helped her pull her first tooth, and the photo snapped just after had been so adorable that Danny had printed a copy for them.
It's good. Kids, she'd said, as they had snuggled in the nest of sheets, just hours before.
Kids are great, he'd agreed, as he'd drifted, stupidly sated and bonelessly content.
"Damn it," he muttered, leaning his forehead against the open hood of the car. His arm went around her waist, pulling her against him, his other hand threading through her disheveled curls as he tucked her head into the crook of his neck. "No. No, ku'uipo. Why? Why tonight?"
She shook her head and tried to pull away from him, but he sensed reluctance, not discomfort or anxiety. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back gently. "Hey, don't run from this; don't shut me out. Why? Why are you doing this to yourself? Why tonight?"
"You deserve so much more," she whispered. "I'm afraid I'll never be able . . . what if I can't . . ."
"Why tonight? What happened today that -" he stopped short, his blood running cold. "Catherine," he said, his jaw clenching.
"It's not her fault," Jax protested. "She knows how amazing you are, she knows you deserve - she's right, she's absolutely right, you should be with someone who can give you everything you deserve. I thought if I could at least - if I could try -"
"Shhh," he said. "I can't believe you pushed yourself . . . Jax, I don't care."
"You're a guy. Guys care."
"Men care about the women they love. Nothing matters more than that. Nothing is worth you feeling . . . Jax, your damn hands were shaking, I should have - right away, the minute, I should have -"
She chuckled weakly. "Well, I'm flattered that you didn't notice. So I wasn't completely incompetent and I can try, I can keep -"
His arms tightened around her. "The hell . . . ku'uipo, no." He rubbed soothing circles on her back. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry that you even thought, for a minute, that . . . "
He felt a hot tear splash onto his collarbone.
"You can tell me, if you want to," he whispered. "Only if you want to."
"Just when I think they can't take anything more from me," she whispered, hiding her face in his neck. "I thought it would never matter. I didn't know; I didn't know that I would meet you, and that I would want . . . and they've taken so many things away."
"I'm sorry," he murmured, "but it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change how I feel about you. You have to believe me."
"I want to," Jax said quietly. "I'm afraid you mean it now, and you'll change your mind later."
"No," he said. "That's not how I work. And I think you know that."
She nodded.
"Come back to bed?" he asked. "It's the middle of the night. You have to be exhausted."
"Okay," she murmured again, and he took her hands - steady - in his, and led her back into the house and up the stairs. Pupule yawned and stretched but stayed curled on his cushion on the landing.
Jax discarded the denim shorts next to the bed and slid beneath the sheets, curling onto her uninjured side. Steve slipped in behind her, his hand ghosting over her stitches and a few of the deeper scrapes that still hadn't healed. He wrapped his arm carefully around her waist.
"You okay?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the back of her neck.
"Always, with you," she murmured. "Always. That's why I thought . . . I thought it would be . . . you know. I thought I could be what . . ."
"Shh," he whispered again. "You're everything I could ever want. Stop doubting that."
She was quiet, for several long moments, and he thought she'd drifted off to sleep, until she started talking.
"They suspected I was a cop," she whispered into the dark. "Rivera's crew. I shamed them into letting the girl go. I actually thought that if I could buy enough time, Rivera would show up and . . ."
"You thought he would show up and make them stop," Steve guessed, his voice low. He kept her wrapped protectively in his arms.
"He did. Show up," she said. "I thought, even if he suspected, even if . . . I thought . . ."
"Jax," he whispered.
"I knew he was a criminal. I knew . . . guns, and racing, and . . . but, there was - they were right, they said I got too close, I didn't stay objective, and he did show up and -" she made a sound that was half laugh, half sob, and Steve felt like his heart was going to splinter into a thousand pieces. "He didn't stop them. No, he definitely didn't stop them."
"Ku'uipo," he whispered again, kissing the back of her neck carefully. "I'm so, so sorry. You trusted him."
"A known criminal. I trusted a known criminal," she scoffed. "He said I had been running my mouth to the cops and he would teach me a lesson accordingly -" she broke off, pressing her face into her pillow.
"You never said," Steve whispered, his voice threaded with agony. "You said that he left -"
"I'm sorry," Jax said, the words breaking like glass, "I didn't want anyone to . . . I was so ashamed, I just . . . when I was walking over the bridge, I thought it would just be easiest . . . I'm so sorry, it's all these years later and I still . . . I can't . . . I lied to the doctors, too, I didn't tell, I didn't want to tell anyone about any of it. I didn't know, I didn't know that there would be scar tissue, and that it might . . . that later . . . I'm sorry."
"Shh," he soothed, stroking her hair. "You have nothing to apologize for . . . and nothing, absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Never. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry that happened."
"Catherine is right," she said, her voice still muffled by the pillow. "I can't give you what you deserve. She's not a bad person, she didn't mean . . . she's just looking out for you. You should have taken her up on her offer a while back."
He deliberately set his rage towards Catherine aside.
"Catherine has been misled by her superiors and doesn't know which end is up," he said. "Would you agree?"
Jax nodded.
"Can she be trusted?"
Jax went very still, thinking. He could feel tension radiating from her. Finally, she shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I don't think we can trust her."
"She may or may not be a bad person," Steve said. "But she's been lied to, misled, used . . . and we can't trust her intel."
"She could be wrong," Jax said.
He wrapped his arm more securely around her.
"She is wrong," he said, emphatically. "She was wrong to say that to you, and she was wrong to worry. Jax. I knew, in the hospital . . . long before I told you. One phone call, I could have had the marriage annulled by the JAG lawyers. I didn't want to. I was selfish, honestly . . . I thought my chances were better getting you to stay married to me than convincing you to marry me."
She turned over, mindless of her stitches. There was just enough moonlight in the room for her to make out his features.
"What?" she asked, ineloquently.
"My family history got you kidnapped and damn near killed," he said. "I have a ridiculous job and I'm still in reserves and my life is insane. I don't know how to do any of that romantic stuff, and Danny says I'm a terrible communicator. And communication is important in a relationship."
"Danny seems to think so," Jax agreed.
"And my laundry, it's just . . . "
"It's pretty awful," Jax agreed again. "But you do your own laundry. I don't touch it. It's nasty."
"You deserve better," he said, brushing her hair away from her face.
"No, that's not true, I - oh."
"Yeah. I know what I want, Jax, I don't need Catherine to worry about me or look out for me or second guess my choices. I want you. Exactly the way you are," he said, rubbing his nose playfully against hers. He stopped, searching out her eyes in the dark. "Because of the way you are, who you are . . ." He kissed her gently.
"What if I don't even know all the stuff that . . . things keep coming up, things I didn't think about, and what if -"
"Together," he said. "We'll figure it out together. You'll have to trust me . . ."
She nodded.
"Yeah?" he whispered, his fingertips grazing tenderly over her cheek.
"Instantly, and since," she murmured.
He felt the tears on her cheek and she tried to turn her face away, but his hand slid up to cup the back of her head gently, tucking her face into him instead.
"I've got you," he said. "Don't hide from this . . . from me."
Tears spilled over, tracking down and disappearing into the soft sheets, and words spilled out into the darkness.
"It was a tire iron," she said, "that broke my arm. We were in a garage, there were . . . his crew, he always ran with eight or nine guys."
His blood ran cold. This was it, this was what Lieutenant Allen had wanted; Jax was going to talk, finally, and she'd decided to talk to him and he was honored, overwhelmed. And it scared the shit out of him.
"So they came at me with a tire iron, while I was yelling at the girl to run, and I blocked - I'm better now, I'm faster, and my technique is better, because you've been training us, me and Kono - but I tried to block it, the tire iron, and I felt my arm break."
He wrapped his hand around her forearm, easily, his fingers overlapping. He knew where the break was, he'd noticed her rubbing it absently after a swim, if the water was cold. Ducking his head, he pressed his lips against her arm. It felt futile, after all these years, but he could make out a smile on her face in the wan light.
"I tried, I was still trying to buy time, but there were so many of them . . ." she whispered. "When Rivera got there, one of them pulled a knife." Her fingers went absently to a scar on her collarbone. "I had to stop fighting."
He kissed over the scar.
"I had to stop fighting," she repeated, whispering.
"I know, ku'uipo," he whispered back. "I know."
"Rivera left," she continued, because she couldn't stop the words now if she tried, "and it - it started all over again -" her breath hitched, and he held her tight, closing his eyes and trying not to let her feel him shaking.
"I was too tired to keep fighting," she said, and it sounded like an apology, or a confession, and it broke his heart all over again. "And they lost interest. I guess it wasn't as much fun for them, once I stopped fighting. I grabbed . . . not my clothes, I couldn't find . . . but a flannel shirt, it was big enough to cover, and they just . . . they let me walk out. I just started walking. I think maybe I was in shock."
He nodded. Wordlessly, because he had no words for this. The image of a younger Jax, beaten, bloodied, cradling a broken arm, stumbling out of a garage, wearing a shirt of someone who'd just . . . he hadn't realized that an anguished sound was forcing its way out of his throat until she cupped her hand around his face to comfort him.
"I was in shock," she said again, as if the thought had just struck her for the first time. "So, when I went over the side of the bridge, I - that wasn't - I wasn't thinking clearly. I really wasn't . . . I didn't really mean . . . hunh."
He nodded again, knowing she could feel the movement of his face under her hand. "No, you weren't thinking clearly," he agreed. "You would have been in shock, confused, disoriented . . . in pain."
"I didn't let Danny down, then," she whispered. "Not really."
"Never," he murmured. "Jax, even if you'd known exactly what you were doing . . . it's okay."
"I don't want to disappoint you," she whispered.
"Never," he repeated, brushing away her tears before they could reach the pillow.
"Even though -"
"Because. Not even though, not in spite of - because. Because everything that's happened has made you who you are. And that's who I fell in love with. I didn't know you before, Jax, and I'm sorry for all of the painful things in your past, but I fell in love with you after," he said. "And I'll say it as many times as you need me to say it."
She smiled at him in the darkness.
"Say it at least one more time."
"I love you," he said, smiling back at her. "I want you to promise me something."
"Anything," she said.
"Never again. Pushing yourself to do something, anything, that you're not comfortable . . . not at home, not at work, not in our personal life, not on a case . . . never again. You talk to me. We work through it together; you tell me what's going on, and the second - the second, Jax - that you need to back off, you back off," he said earnestly, tucking her hair away from her face and searching out her eyes. "Promise."
"I promise," she whispered.
"Come 'ere," he murmured, pulling her close to him.
She bit back a muffled cry of pain. "Stitches," she gritted out, as the movement aggravated her arm.
"Sorry, sorry," he said. "Turn back - there."
She settled again on her uninjured side, and he wrapped his arms around her, kissing the back of her neck and nuzzling into her hair. She smelled like honeysuckle and gunpowder, still, with faint traces of motor oil.
"God, I love holding you," he whispered.
"Some days, that's all . . . that's all I can -"
"I know," he said. "I know; don't you get it? I know that, and I don't care. You fit so perfectly in my arms, in my life . . . you have no idea. You're everything I want, Jax, and everything I didn't know I needed."
Her hand tightened around his, and she nodded. He felt her breath hitch again.
"What is it?" he murmured.
She was silent a moment. "I hate them," she said, with a quiet intensity that surprised him. "I hate them for what they took from me. Better me than that poor girl, but I hate them."
She muffled a sob in her pillow, and he pressed a soft kiss behind her ear.
"Let go of it, ku'uipo," he whispered. "I've got you."
The faintest rays of sunrise made their way into the room as he held her, still, waiting for the last of the shaking to stop.
#*#*#*#*#
"Is everything ok?" Rachel asked, as Danny kissed her goodbye.
"Yeah, Steve just needs a ride to work," he said, looking at his phone. "Jax needs the truck. If she'd quit getting kidnapped she could get her Supra up and running."
"Yes, well, I think you should bloody well get on that," Rachel said.
#*#*#*#*#
Danny smiled as he pulled into Steve's drive. He put the car into park and took in the scene in front of him: Jax, standing on the running board of the truck, her arms looped around Steve's neck, his arms around her waist. As usual, his big hand was splayed possessively on her hip. He kissed her and murmured something to her, and she nodded in response. Turning to climb the rest of the way into the truck, she reached into the back and handed Steve a red medic bag. He took it from her and kissed her once more, then closed the door and thumped it gently before she pulled away.
She waved at Danny as she passed, and he waved back, climbing out of the Camaro.
"Hey, Steve," Danny said, joining Steve on the porch steps. He wasn't prepared for Steve's hand to land on his arm, squeezing so tightly that Danny knew there would be odd finger-shaped bruises to explain to Rachel that night. "Steve?"
Steve was still smiling and looking at the back of his truck, until it turned out of sight. Then he collapsed on the front steps, and Danny almost fell over at the sudden removal of his hand.
Danny sat down slowly, cautiously, next to Steve.
"Kono and Jax, they never go undercover alone," Steve said hoarsely. "Never. I don't care what the case is, or why it would make sense, or what assholes we're trying to catch. They never go undercover alone; they're never out of audio or visual surveillance. Got it?"
Danny nodded. "Okay, I got it. You okay?"
"No," Steve said, shaking his head. "No, I am not okay."
"Are you going to be okay?"
"Eventually, I think."
"You need a minute."
"At least."
"Okay," Danny nodded. "What's in the bag?"
Steve gave him a half-hearted glare. "The contents of the Champs box."
"I thought you moved the Champs box to your office," Danny said, confused.
"We did. We're going to see who's interested in it. But the contents, and the study of the contents, is going to take place at my house," Steve explained.
"Is that why you have Aneurysm Face?"
"No."
"Do I want to know why you have Aneurysm Face?"
"God, no. No, you don't," Steve said, his voice tight.
"Where's Jax going?" Danny asked.
"To see Lieutenant Allen," Steve answered.
Danny nodded. "Okay. We'll just sit, until you're ready to go." He settled himself more comfortably onto the step.
"Thanks, Danny," Steve said quietly. They sat in silence for a while, the early morning sun warming their faces as it found its way up the porch stairs.
Eventually, Steve held out his hand and Danny wordlessly put the keys into his palm. Steve put the red pack inside the house, set the alarm code, and locked the door. They slipped into the Camaro and Steve started the ignition.
"It was a tire iron," he said, as he put the Camaro into drive. "When she had her arm broken, in New York, on the first Rivera case. One of Rivera's crew, eight or nine of them, swung it at her, and she tried to block it. It was a tire iron."
"Shit, Steve," Danny said.
"I want the file," Steve said, his voice flat. "The case file. With the names. Can you get it for me?"
"She needs you here, Steve, not locked up serving back-to-back life sentences for manslaughter," Danny said.
"No one will ever find the bodies," Steve said, in the same flat tone.
"Steven."
"Daniel."
"Can we find WoFat first, and figure out Shelburne, and then talk about it?"
There was a beat of silence. "Okay." Another pause. "We aren't supposed to be looking for WoFat, Danny."
"Yeah, but . . . we are though, right? I mean, at your house. That's why you emptied the contents of the Champs box out and stashed everything at your place, right?" Danny asked.
"Danny?"
"Yeah, babe?"
"I'm really glad I made you join Five-O."
#*#*#*#*#
