No Stranger to Hell

Chapter 35

I know you think it's been way too long since the last update and I agree. If you're still reading, thank you. Have counted the yeas and nays for Ms. Rollins and it's pretty clear what the majority of you think. Will do my best to justify your wishes in the next update. Not much Steve, (a conscious Steve), in this one but that will be fixed in the next update.

Because SPNGran has a life, Imaginary Beta takes sole responsibility for proofing this one. At least we know what to expect. I apologize in advance.

Disclaimer: Don't get paid for writing this but at least NotSoNinjaCat appreciates that her human bed stays in one place long enough for a nice nap.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

Lie to Me

Once again, it's Lori's turn to sit with Steve. It was just the two of them in the semi-quiet room. On the television mounted high-up on the wall played a football game; the volume turned almost all the way down. She assumed Danny had either been watching it or he'd put it on for Steve like some people leave on a radio or TV for their pets. She could just imagine the SEAL rolling his eyes at the very thought.

Catherine had been persuaded to take a few hours to get some rest and Danny had driven her to the McGarrett house. The detective looked wrung-out and the woman with him appeared exhausted when she'd met them at change of shift. From their brief report, Steve's last treatment had been brutal.

She felt for Steve's best friend and even for his ex. She knows Danny is incredibly stressed over his friend's precarious health, plus the responsibility of running Five-0 in his absence adds to the anxiety the detective isn't always successful at concealing. Catherine, unable to hide her guilt over not being here to support her very ill boyfriend – or ex-boyfriend - was pale; her eyes darkly shadowed. She's a wreck but, unlike Steve's sister, is subtle about it.

From a long conversation with Kono, the profiler had learned the island woman still wasn't feeling all that warm and fuzzy toward the one who'd left her friend and mentor in the lurch. Kono was aware that it had affected him badly and that it was obvious to her that Steve just wasn't the same after Catherine had again abandoned him.

When she'd left the second time, Kono said she wanted to track the woman down and kick her ass; that Steve should have but there was no need for him to do it personally. There were many standing in line to do it for him. Kono conceded that her boss's ex-girlfriend's return may have done him some good but, so help her, if she left him again, all bets were off. Ms. Rollins would be fair game for his ohana's wrath. Lori laughed at memory of the fierce look of determination on Kono's usually serene face. There was no doubt Officer Kalakaua meant business.

Steve had been under since the profiler had arrived two hours ago. When she heard a soft moan, she put down her magazine and went to him. He lay curled on his side, his face scrunched as though in pain.

Sweat soaked his hair and chalk white skin showed the flush of a fever. Taking his hand in hers, she found it was ice cold and its structure feather-light as a bird's. Paper-thin skin stretched over spokes of bone that radiated from a knobby wrist. He looked so frail. She remembered hugging him goodbye when she'd been dismissed by the governor. The arms that had wrapped around were strong, the hands warm.

He moaned once more as his grip tightened ever so slightly on hers before he sighed softly and seemed to sink into a deeper sleep.

Satisfied he wasn't waking, she continued to hold his hand as she took the opportunity to study his face. The lines indicating discomfort had smoothed and the set of his mouth had softened making him look so much younger than he usually appeared.

Even when the team had been engaged in relaxing activities: having a beer at Side Street or gathered on Steve's lanai after whatever excuse for a party had presented itself, there was still a tension in face and body. Like a cat whose posture could be one of boneless repose; humming just beneath its silken coat lay energy that could explode into fight or flight at the slightest provocation. It wasn't just mere physical beauty that made the man so attractive, it was the controlled power that lay just beneath the surface that was intriguing.

Steve was nearly successful at maintaining an emotional opaqueness but not quite. To those who knew how to look, like a close friend or a Homeland Security profiler, there was something else to see besides a granite facade. The thought that someone had broken through this nearly impenetrable wall then gone on to fracture what it had protected made her angry as well. If the time comes, maybe she'll go along with Kono to kick a certain woman's ass.

…..

Catherine and Mary returned to the hospital together. Mary had calmed but she still picked at her nails nervously as she sat in the passenger seat of the Silverado. Catherine, mostly in the interest of self-preservation had asked Mary if she wanted her to drive it back to the hospital. Thanks to the effects of several milligrams of Xanax, Steve's sister was calm enough but it didn't necessarily make her a safe driver. Thankfully, she'd relinquished the keys to her brother's big blue truck.

Hearing voices right outside the door, Lori looked up from where she stood next to the bed. She quickly released Steve's hand and placed it gently back on the bed then stepped away just as the door was pushed open and Mary, Catherine right behind her, entered the room.

"Hey." she greeted.

"How is he!?" worriedly asked the female half of what's left of the McGarrett family.

"He's resting." replied Lori, keeping her voice low. "The nurse said he'll be out of it for most of the rest of the day and maybe through tomorrow. They've given him something to keep him under so that he can get some rest."

"Yeah, I guess that last treatment was pretty rough." said Mary as she approached her brother's bedside.

"So I've been told." replied Lori, trying not to hold the woman's previous hysteria against her. How Mary could be related to Steve she had no idea. Except for maybe eye color, they didn't even physically resemble one another all that much let alone possess any similarity of temperament.

Mary stood looking down at him. "He doesn't even know I'm here, does he?" she asked rhetorically.

"Probably not but you should talk to him anyway. I think somehow he'll know. It couldn't hurt." replied Lori.

Catherine had hung back but now stepped up to take a place next to the bed and gaze worriedly down at her former lover. "I think Steve needs all the support he can get right now." she said sincerely.

Yeah, about that . . . thought Lori as she smiled faintly at the dark-haired woman before asking, "Why don't we let Mary have some time alone with her brother? Let's go downstairs and get some late lunch or early dinner. I'm starving."

Catherine smiled back and said, "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. We'll be here for several hours so it's probably wise to get something to eat." Turning to Mary she asked, "Can we bring you something?"

"Nah, thanks. My stomach is still too messed-up to eat. I'll just hang with Steve. This is probably my opportunity to tell him that I'm thinking of getting married and he won't be able to talk me out of it." she smiled a bit grimly.

"We'll have to hear all about it when we get back." answered Catherine who'd been relieved that Mary didn't seem to be holding much animosity toward her. Perhaps she was too self-involved to make much note of her brother's love life but, more likely, Steve had soft-pedaled the story of how he felt about his long time love going her separate way. As he'd once said and then confirmed by just being himself, McGarrett men were not known for displays of emotion.

In any case, Steve's description of one of Mary's past paramours, (calling him a na'aupo douche), made her hope it wasn't the same guy. It had always amused her that Steve sometimes mixed-in other languages when swearing. For the last few years the added words were more and more in the language of his islands – either Hawaiian or pidgin.

They left Mary with her brother. Walking out the door and turning left toward the elevators, the two were on their way to what would prove to be an interesting lunch.

….

Martin startled when he felt a hand placed on his shoulder. It was that Hawaiian cop from Five-0. The man frowned down at him and asked, "You ready to answer some questions for us?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess." answered the thief who'd yet to stop trembling from the adrenaline that had flooded his system during the gory/ketchupy battle twenty minutes earlier.

"This was what? The third attempt on your life?" asked the man the uniformed cops addressed as Lieutenant Kelly.

"Yeah, only." snorted Martin before shakily lifting a bottle of water to his lips.

"Time to tell us what you know so we can get you to a permanently safe place, brah." said the wearing a button down Henley.

He assumed the Hawaiian cop's rank wasn't just honorary. Like many others on this much too casual island, he's attired in clothing that gives no indication of status. The only display of any sort of officialdom is the shiny badge clipped to his belt.

"They'll keep trying until they're successful you know. The Yakuza has a really long memory. Elephant's got nuthin' on them." said the very tall black man wearing a rather gaudy Hawaiian shirt.

The shaken thief ran his hand through hair coated in nearly as much ketchup as the rest of him. He wondered if the substance would stain his only recently restored color. The stuff was becoming disgustingly gummy as it dried.

Not knowing if it was blood from damage caused by the broken bottle or if it was the contents of the bottle itself, the image of the dead assassin lying in a puddle of red was stuck in his mind. Either way, it was a grisly sight. He'd never caused physical damage to anyone before – let alone killed them. In the past, if he couldn't talk his way out of a sticky situation, he'd used speed and evasion to deal with it. Evidence of that failed tactic was being zipped into a body bag only a few feet away.

"So, what now?" he asked, "I just spend the rest of my life locked in a hotel room?"

"Nah, replied Grover, "First of all, the State of Hawaii would eventually run out of funds to keep your self-entitled ass ensconced in such nice surroundings. The accommodations would have to decline in quality to something decidedly less pricey. You've heard of Motel 6, right?"

Martin rolled his eyes at the very thought.

"Second of all, there are other alternatives." supplied Lieutenant Kelly.

"Other alternatives?" asked Martin; at once hopeful yet hesitant.

"The federal government would be willing to enroll you in its WITSEC program in exchange for all of the information you have on your Yakuza connection. So far, you've only come up with information on the ship involved in this particular case. We and Interpol are very interested in certain pieces of art that have gone astray in the past few years." said the lieutenant.

"And what about charges against yours truly? Not that there should be any, mind you, considering I had nothing to do with any other art thefts." cautiously asked the art thief. "If I can somehow be of help regarding any art in the possession of a certain East Asian gentleman, would I be charged with any crime in which he could be implicated?"

Chin smiled his cat-that-ate-the-canary smile and replied, "Of course not."

"Look Shaftbottom", interrupted the other cop, "Cut the crap. We know you're in this up to your pompadour. If you want to make a deal, then give us what you know and, maybe, we won't let the Yakuza grab your ass and you won't be joining your museum buddy in his long his dirt nap."

Martin pulled his Tommy Bahama away from where it was stuck to his chest as he grimaced in disgust. "You think I can go somewhere nice?" he asked.

…..

Seems it's 'Taco Tuesday' according to the sign at the door. The smell of corn tortillas, garlic, and cumin were top notes in the cafeteria's olfactory ambiance; its menu pleasingly varied. If one wanted healthy fare, there were fruit and veggies galore but, if one wanted to indulge in fare that would probably get them drummed out of Whole Foods, there were other choices as well.

This time, both women opted for the mainstay of many seeking solace during stressful times – chocolate. Catherine chose a slice of decadent chocolate cream pie to go with her coffee while Lori went right to mainlining the stuff; chocolate ice cream drowned in hot fudge and piled with whipped cream. Of course, there was fruit as well, (if maraschino cherries count).

The lunch crowd had cleared out and only a few stragglers remained here and there. The smells of steam table food hung thick in the air as the two women found a place in the corner that would provide the most privacy.

They'd eaten only a few mouthfuls before Catherine blurted, "It's nice to talk to someone who doesn't hate my guts for a change . . . or least I don't think you do." tentatively smiled the dark-haired woman. "Do you?"

A bit taken aback by the question, Lori asked, "Why would I hate you?", (though she probably already knew the answer).

Catherine's dark eyes crinkled at the corners as she regarded her lunch companion. "Maybe you haven't yet heard. It seems that everyone is pissed that Steve and I are no longer together."

You mean that you dumped his ass and took off for parts unknown, thought Lori before carefully replying, "I did hear something about you leaving." She took a sip of the strong black coffee that accompanied her 'lunch'. She had no idea why she'd ordered it. Having already drunk at least two cups she was beginning to feel the effects of caffeine overload. Her pulse rate must be in hummingbird range by now.

"So, did Steve wake at all?" asked Catherine.

"Not really. He sort of moaned a couple times but didn't come all the way awake. I um . . . I held his hand for a little bit and he seemed to calm down." said Lori, feeling strange admitting she'd held the hand of the ex-boyfriend of the woman who sat on the other side of the table from her.

Catherine sighed sadly, staring into the depths of the cup of tea that sat steeping before her. "He's so lucky to have you guys around. I've failed him so badly by not being here."

"Well, you couldn't know that he'd become so ill." said Lori not unsympathetically.

Voice catching with emotion, Catherine replied, "I haven't been there when so many things had happened to him. He was alone so many times when someone should have been there for him."

"His ohana is always there when he needs them. They'll always help him." said the profiler with absolute conviction.

"He won't ask for help." replied Catherine with a negative shake of her head. "That's one of the things we talked about a few times." With a small smile she added, "It didn't seem to have much of an impact. But, with Steve, the attitude isn't just macho bullshit. I honestly think that he doesn't feel he deserves it."

Lori is again surprised. Maybe it's just lack of sleep that prompts this forthrightness. "Why do you think that is?" she asks, genuinely interested in the answer.

"How . . ." began Catherine, her voice catching again before she cleared her throat and steadied herself. "How can anyone feel valued when . . . when people keep leaving them?"

A clatter made both of them jump when, on the other side of the fern-filled planter that divided off this section of the cafeteria, someone had dropped a tray and cursed loudly.

When the profiler returned her gaze to her lunch companion, she was dismayed to find that Catherine had pressed her hands tightly to her face in attempt to hold back emotion. She wasn't entirely successful; the shuddering of her shoulders giving her away.

After a long moment, Lori cleared her throat and went for it; asking softly, "Why did you leave him, Catherine?"

Pulling her hands from her face and sniffing wetly, Catherine picked up her paper napkin to dab at her eyes. "Sorry." she apologized. Then taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders she began, "The first time I left was because I had to repay someone for saving my life in Afghanistan. I had to find a boy named Najib."

"Did you find him?"

"Yes, yes I did; within a couple of months but I didn't come back to Hawaii for several more."

"Why did you stay away for so long?"

"I told Steve it was because I'd found my place working with the kids in the village. I told myself that too but it wasn't entirely true."

Lori waited quietly for Catherine to elaborate. There was no need to prompt her. She wondered if the woman had ever had the opportunity to explain herself. "It, it's a long story but, truth is, I'm a coward."

At that Lori raised her brows. From everything she'd heard, Lieutenant Catherine Rollins is anything but a coward. "Why do you think that?" she asked.

"I ran from someone who was no threat to me. Someone who only ever showed me how much I meant to him even if he didn't say it. It just seemed so, I don't know, overwhelming to be the object of something that intense. It scared me. How could I possibly be worthy of it? Not many people know how long it took him, years actually, before Steve told me he loved me." She smiled wistfully, "Of course, I knew he did.

"It sounds like maybe Steve isn't the only one who has trouble considering themselves worthy."

Catherine's expression grew even sadder. "It wasn't love that was the issue – it was trust. He'd been abandoned by so many others in his life that taking the chance and declaring it out loud was a big step; a giant one."

Lori nodded, saying, "That would be a big step for a lot of people."

As though she hadn't heard her, Catherine went on, "When I came back again, for Kono's wedding, I had every intention of staying. I wanted to make it work. I'd finally gotten over myself, my doubts, and intended to give it everything I had. Steve deserved no less."

"But you left again." nodded Lori, trying to keep her tone neutral. It must have torn Steve apart and that was hard to forgive for anyone who cared for the man. The profiler knew that Catherine had gone back to work in some sort of capacity for the government. That's as much as anyone knew except for Steve. Even Danny didn't know the details and had told her as much.

"I'm no better than any of the others." Catherine bitterly declared as tears began to pool in her eyes once more. "I let my job take precedence and abandoned him again. How can he want me to stay after what I've done?"

"Catherine, I can't tell you to go or stay but, at this point, Steve needs all the support he can get. His battle could go either way and we all have to do whatever we can to help him hang on long enough to win it." Now, despite her resolution to keep her own emotions in check, Lori's pale eyes began to glisten. "You have to be here for him for now. Lie to him if you have to. Tell him what he needs to hear. He'll believe you."

…..

Sunlight glowed pleasingly through the amber contents of the decanter sitting on the blotter before him. A soft breeze stirred the draperies on either side of the open french doors leading to the terrace overlooking the ocean. This island is pleasant enough, conceded Tatsuo Nozaki, but it's not home. Tonight, he'd be taking a flight out of Honolulu International to Narita. His business is concluded here and in only a few more days his long awaited shipment of paintings should be arriving in Japan. Picturing in his mind's eye where he was going to hang his newest acquisitions, he took another satisfying sip of his single malt whiskey.

Even with the couple million he'd spent getting the paintings, he was still paying only ten percent of their appraised value. Actually, now that those extraneous participants in the operation had been 'taken care of', the artwork was even more of a bargain. There was no need to pay dead people. As he'd heard the gaijin say, 'Every penny counts.'

Smiling to himself he decided he had the perfect place for the Renoir; it should go over the washlet. His new electronic toilet is top of the line so the art that hangs over it should be as well. Unfortunately, age has made it a bit more time consuming to tend to his morning business so he'll have plenty of time to study the painting's intricacies of color and light.

The location for Mrs. Trabuc hadn't yet been decided. To have the sour-faced woman staring at him from a wall in a room he'd be spending a lot of time in would be a bit disconcerting. Perhaps he'll put her in one of the guest rooms. His visitors need to be reminded that they are watched – and judged.

He'd just decided on the perfect place in his Tokyo mansion for Mrs. Trabuc to reside when gunfire and yelling erupted on the other side of the wall that separated the mansion's grounds from the other estates in the tony Black Point neighborhood. Looking upward at the big screen mounted on the wall opposite, Nozaki quickly punched the remote's button that switched the screen from the Nikkei Index report to the feed from the surveillance cameras scattered about the grounds.

He observed several people in tactical gear, some of them with SWAT lettered on their vests and others with 'POLICE'. There were others who had less obvious labels and appeared to have badges displayed on their protective gear.

"Unko! (shit)" he muttered as he watched in alarm. One-by-one, his troops were taken out; several by gunfire and others by the use of stun grenades that had them staggering blindly about the grassy lawn before falling to their knees and puking up their insides.

Reaching into the desk, he took out his Beretta and made ready to take his stand. It had been awhile since he'd had to engage in violence personally but a warrior never loses his taste for battle. He wouldn't go down without taking someone with him.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

Will try my best to update within a week. In the meantime, your comments would be most welcome.

PS – If we can ignore the medical fantasies, the 7th season looks like it's going to be awesome!