Pehea wau i ʻike ai i kou makuahine

Based on the characters and stories of Hawaii Five-0.

Hawaii Five-0 is owned by CBS and their respective creators.

Steve shifted awkwardly in front of the classroom full of newly-minted SEALs. He cleared his throat as he looked down at his notes and began his seminar. "In 2003, a secret compound, known as Strawberry Fields, was constructed near the main Guantanamo Bay detention camps - or Camp Delta: JTF Guantanamo in Cuba. In August 2010 it was made public knowledge that it had been constructed to hold CIA HVT detainees. These were among the many men known as ghost detainees, as they were ultimately held for years for interrogation by the CIA in secret prisons known as black sites at various places in Europe, the Middle East, and Asia.

'High value detainees' had first been transferred to military custody at Guantanamo on September 24, 2003. The CIA agents on duty thought they had learned most of the information to be extracted from these individuals. At the time, the CIA thought these men could be held securely and secretly at Guantanamo, without any prospect of the public learning that they had been subjected to what United States courts have determined is torture, including waterboarding." He swallowed nervously as the words escaped his mouth. He glanced back at Catherine who was standing in the back of the classroom. She gave him a reassuring nod and a soft smile.

"The camp's nickname was a reference to the Beatles' song "Strawberry Fields Forever", because the detainees would be held there "forever". Ironically, the song was also played on repeat for the detainees. It was used as a method to break them before they ever entered a rendition suite." Steve glanced up and smirked, "And, uh, if you've ever had the misfortune of listening to that song even once, you know it's pretty effective." The group of men chuckled as Steve cleared his throat to continue.

"Extraordinary rendition, also called irregular rendition or forced rendition, is the capture and extrajudicial transfer of a person from one country to another with the purpose of circumventing the former country's laws on interrogation, detention and torture." He looked up from his notes and made eye contact with the SEALs who were captivated by his very presence. To everyone who had entered the SEAL program after his days of active duty, Steve McGarrett wasn't just a former SEAL, he was a living legend. Many SEALs are legendary, but the ones who actually live to tell about it? Those are the ones you idolize.

"You all have chosen a hard path. Truth is, there are no easy days. Not even yesterday. Regardless of where you find yourselves serving in the SEALs, at some point or another you will have to do things that you don't know how you're going to cope with. Sure, you're taught how to compartmentalize, but that's a temporary fix. Why do you think the divorce rate for SEALs and special warfare operators is somewhere around ninety percent? The suicide rate for special operators in the military tripled in 2018. Those aren't good odds. We're here to change that." Steve gripped the edges of the podium so hard that his knuckles turned white. "Look around." He motioned for the crowd to look at each other. "Go on. Look." He paused as their eyes shifted around the room. "The people in this room are the only ones, perhaps on earth, who will ever understand what it is that you have done and have seen. Don't take that for granted. Lean on each other. You're gonna need one another not just to survive on the battlefield, but to survive in your own minds." He stepped back from the podium and began to pace the front of the room. "When you put on your civvies and step off the property line of the base, the people you pass in the checkout line of the grocery store aren't going to have a damn clue what you have done in your lives. Sometimes that's a blessing, sometimes it's a curse."

He looked up at Catherine again and smiled as her hand rested on her slight bump. "And when you decide to hang it up, that's when you come see me. Re-integrating into society is no picnic. At the Special Operator's division of the V.A., we're committed to helping you find a job that fulfils you, making sure you're not forgotten, and, uh, we're just here to be on your team. Every person in my department has seen combat at the highest level and knows what you're about to go through. If that means you just need someone to talk to? We're here. If you need help finding a medical provider to treat PTSD or anything else you've got going on - we're here. We're here for every single one of you because every person who works in my office knows what it's like to have to look at yourself in the mirror every day. There's no shame - there's, there's nothing taboo about getting help or getting treatment. So don't be a stranger. If you're down at the V.A., pop into my office and introduce yourself. Or, uh, if you see me at the gun range or wherever else, come say hi. Questions?"

A young man in the front row raised his hand and stood after Steve pointed to him, "How long were you at Strawberry Fields, sir?"

"In and out, about three years. My SEAL team specialized in acquiring HTVs. We would grab the target and transport them to GITMO or S.F. or one of the other blacksites around the globe. I would stay and oversee the initial questioning and rendition until we had another assignment. Next?"

"How did you cope with it?" Another SEAL spoke up.

Steve looked down at his notes. He didn't know why he had done that - there were no notes on how to live with yourself after giving someone a fate worse than death. "I, uh, I didn't cope well." He admitted sheepishly. Sure, he had swallowed his pride and sought treatment for his PTSD years ago, but admitting that sometimes you lose control is a different animal. "You also have to remember that these are human beings, the same as you and me. What we do for the sake of our country is for that purpose: the greater good. Only do what is necessary." He glanced around the room. "Time for one more question?"

"Who got you through it?"

He grinned and looked at the back of the room. "She did." He motioned to Catherine who blushed as every head turned to look at her. "Gentlemen, that is my wife, Catherine." He chuckled, "Former Naval Intelligence and former CIA." He smirked as every jaw in the room dropped as he rambled off her resume. "Trust me, boys, she's way more impressive than me." His eyes flickered up to meet hers, flashing with adoration. "While I was working at Camp Delta, GITMO and Strawberry Fields were highly classified and were on a strict need-to-know basis. I was ordered to not tell anyone about where I was or what I was doing. Spend two minutes with Catherine and you'll realize she's smart. She, uh, she figured it out and made sure I kept my mind straight. She saved me from myself. After she left the Navy and joined the CIA, she began to share those similar experiences through her line of work." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "But if you want to, uh, hear Catherine's stories about being a badass field agent, you'll just have to get 'em from her." He looked back at her and grinned with a wink, "Her security clearance is higher than mine." He chuckled. "I think that's all the time they've allotted me, but we'll be around base for a bit if you want to talk. Thanks everybody." Steve nodded as he gathered his notes and made his way out of the classroom with Catherine at his side.

Catherine silently prayed that she was wrong. It was rumored to exist, but even officers with her level of security clearance weren't totally sure that it wasn't a hoax. "Strawberry Fields is real, isn't it." As soon as the words escaped her lips, she knew it was a mistake. She was forcing Steve to either break protocol regarding talking about classified information or she was forcing him to lie to her. "Steve, don't answer." She blurted out, trying to save him from the catch twenty two.

"It's hell there." He whispered. That's what shocked Catherine the most. Steve had always been rigid regarding clearance levels and she knew for sure she wasn't allowed to know anything about it. "Cath, I can't even begin to describe it…"

"Stop talking. You know I'm not authorized to know any of this." She urged.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, "Cath…" He pleaded as he held his head in his hands.

Catherine rested her forehead on his shoulder and cradled the back of his head against hers. For the longest time they sat in silence. She gently stroked the short hairs at the back of his neck and occasionally dotted his head with kisses. "How long have you been assigned there?"

"Most of the year." He mumbled into her shoulder.

She nodded. "So, it started right after I saw you in Hawaii?"

Steve sat up and leaned back in the chair, "Yeah." He sighed.

Catherine didn't want to make the moment about her, but the question practically leapt off the tip of her tongue, "Is that why you stopped calling?"

He looked down in shame, "Yeah…" He lifted her chin to meet his gaze, "I'm sorry."

She shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile, "You have nothing to be sorry for. I just missed you is all."

Steve scoffed, "I have a helluva lot to be sorry for." He pulled her closer and kissed her, "Can I tell you? Cath, I…." His voice cracked, "I gotta talk to somebody or I'll…." Even he didn't want to finish that thought.

"Tell me." She interjected. "Tell me whatever you want to." To hell with the rulebook.

Steve glanced around at the neighboring bungalows. All was quiet, but as they say: loose lips sink ships. "Let's go inside."

Catherine followed him in and sat on the bed. Steve meticulously searched the room. She had already searched for bugs and listening devices when she arrived and had come up empty. She had no reason to believe anyone was watching them or listening in, but you could never be too sure. They were at war, after all. Catherine reached out and grabbed his hand as he passed by, "Steve. I already checked. We're good."

He was obviously on edge. Steve looked as though he hadn't slept in months. His lively blue eyes were gray and sullen. His typical taut, tanned skin was pale and wilted. "Just a minute." He mumbled as he pulled his hand away and continued checking the room.

Steve had changed. It was obvious as she watched him move about the space. Maybe it was the fact that he knew more about what was going on in the world than she did, but there was something else too - his spirit. The old Steve wouldn't have wasted the immaculate view outside their balcony or the lush linens and cloudlike bed. This Steve was more worried about listening devices and national security than his girlfriend who he had barely spoken to over the course of the year. The girlfriend who had resisted temptation when it came knocking on her bunk door at midnight.

Catherine swallowed her pride. She was angry at him, but whatever he was going to say, she needed to be available to listen to understand, not just listen to respond. Steve finally settled down and pulled a chair up to the foot of the bed to sit across from her. He rested his elbows on his knees and hunched forward as he stared at the floor. For a few minutes he didn't say anything. Catherine did her best to be patient, but the man sitting across from her wasn't the man she had fallen head over heels for. "Enhanced interrogation techniques." He hissed. The amount of hatred that dripped from his words was unsettling. He laughed almost maniacally. "Rendition. These, these terms - they teach us… They wrap everything up in a neat little package, don't they? They make it palatable for Congress and the lawmakers and the suits in Washington… These non-operators who somehow get to make the rules, but they're not the ones who have to live with the consequences of what they set us out to do." He shook his head. "The CIA destroys all evidence of what we do and any record of who comes in or out."

"Isn't destroying those records illegal?" Her eyebrows furrowed.

Steve nodded. "Yeah. The internal justification was that what they showed was so horrific they would be devastating to the CIA and to the Navy." He scoffed in disbelief. "And that the heat from destroying is nothing compared to what it would be if the tapes or the records ever got out." Catherine nodded. He took a minute to calm himself with combat breathing before he continued. "The interrogation methods they have us use… It's, it's… inhumane. Beatings, binding the inmates in contorted stress positions, hooding, blasting the same fucking song at all hours of the day and night, sleep disruption and sleep deprivation to the point of hallucination, depriving them of food and water, we withhold medical care for injuries, waterboarding, walling, stripping them down naked and humiliating them, subjecting them to extreme heat and cold, confining them in coffins, white torture, medically unnecessary treatments… they have us threaten their families - their mothers and wives, their kids…" By the time he had finished rambling off the horrors he had inflicted, he was shaking. Tears ran down his face as he trembled and began to sob.

She looked at him long and hard, but all she saw was a man broken by abuse and pain: forced to do the unspeakable. He wasn't the monster they had tried to turn him into. His hands were scarred from inflicting torture, and yet she trusted them completely."Oh, Steve." She whispered as she pushed off the bed and wrapped her arms around him. Her tears mingled with his in a moment of solemn solidarity.

Steve wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap. He was exhausted but his Samson-like strength remained. "There are worse things that can be done to a person than death." He cradled her head under his chin. Steve wanted nothing more than to protect her from the pain and suffering he had learned to inflict. "War allows us to dress monsters up and pretend they're saviors."

Catherine pushed her head against his hand and looked up at him, "You're not a monster." She stated with resolve as she wiped his tears away.

He shook his head, "The thing is, monsters are afraid too - even monsters have nightmares."

"When was the last time you had a good night's sleep?" She asked quietly as she slid out of his arms and took his hand. He just shrugged. She pulled him to his feet and slowly began undressing him. Catherine started with his shirt - taking her time on each of the buttons. She pushed the plaid button up off his arms and tugged his undershirt off after it. There was nothing steamy or arousing about her methodically stripping him down. It was caring - compassionate. She deftly unzipped and unbuttoned his jeans and slid them off of his hips. "Lay down." She commanded softly.

"Cath." He sighed, "I'm not gonna fall asleep - it's just.. It's gonna make me anxious and tense and -"

Catherine pulled back the covers and pointed to his side of the bed. "Lay down, McGarrett." Her voice was firm. She wasn't taking no for an answer. Steve rolled his eyes but did as he was told. Catherine joined him but sat up on her side of the bed and adjusted him so that his head was laying in her lap. "Close your eyes." She coaxed in a voice that would make the Energizer Bunny get drowsy. Steve wiggled and shifted until he was comfortable curled up beside her legs, using her lap as a pillow. Catherine began to methodically run her fingers through his hair.

He had been right. Laying down made him tense. She could see the way his muscles constricted as he tried to be still for her sake. She could tell he had been working out a lot. Steve had always been in shape and even ridiculously muscular at times, but this was a whole new level of absolutely ripped. Any other time she would have pounced on him to get it on and revel in the absolute absurdity of how defined his physique had become, but not now - not tonight. He had always used working out as stress relief and as a coping mechanism; his current physical state was proof that the demons inside were battling for dominance. She just prayed he was stronger than they were.

Steve's breathing became steady and slow as her fingers combed through his hair. She yawned but kept a watchful eye on him as he slept on her lap. The sun slowly crept above the horizon and illuminated the turquoise water surrounding them. She nearly jumped when Steve suddenly tensed against her body. Even in a deep sleep he grimaced and groaned. Catherine held his head securely against her lap while the other gently rubbed his back. After a few seconds the nightmare subsided; Steve never woke up once. Her gentle touches helped him stay asleep and her presence as the nightmares would creep back in seemed to help him fight. The pattern repeated itself until the sun was high in the sky and Catherine's stomach growled louder than she had ever heard.

Steve chuckled, "I think that's the signal for me to get up." He yawned as he sat up and looked around. "What time is it?"

"Almost 1300." She smiled as she rubbed her eyes. Catherine tenderly brushed her thumb across his brow, "How do you feel?"

He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, "Like I'm never gonna be able to pay you back for this."

Catherine smiled, "Hey, we went half and half on the rental fee - we're even."

Steve chuckled, "I meant for last night… and this morning…" He glanced at the clock to make sure he had really slept until one in the afternoon. "And this afternoon." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, "I know it wasn't uh, wasn't exactly what you had envisioned for our leave."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled, "It's not over yet." She pecked his lips, "But Steve…" Catherine chewed on her lip, "I know you can call from Cuba. It's a Naval base. They have phones… and cell reception..."

He hung his head in shame. "Cath, I just-"

"Just promise me you'll call. If you're ever in trouble or need to talk whatever you're doing and get it off your chest… I mean, I'd like it if you called if you're not in trouble too, you know… just to talk… But I'll answer either way." She slipped her hand into his and laced their fingers together. A wave of worry entered her voice, "Even if it's just to help you fall asleep... I promise, I'll answer."

Steve trailed his fingers up and down her ribcage before pulling her in for a kiss. He rested his forehead on hers, "I'll call. I promise." He kissed her again, this time cupping her jaw in his hand as he sunk his teeth into her lower lip.

Catherine's hips melded into his. She smiled as the familiar fire shot through her body. They just clicked. Somehow after baring their souls to one another in the middle of the night, their rhythms felt more intimate. Steve's hands roamed her body lavishly. Her head tilted back as her body arched towards him. Somehow the shirt of his that she had pulled on in the middle of the night ended up back on the floor with the rest of their clothes.

He laid her back on the bed as he kissed her jaw, then her neck, down to her clavicle and across her shoulders. His strong hands gripped her knees as he slowly spread her legs apart and slid his palm up across the velvety skin of her inner thigh. "Catherine... beautiful Catherine." His husky whisper of her full name sent shivers up her spine. His tongue traced the outline of her lips before locking on for a sensual kiss. Steve's fingers trailed along the gentle swell of her breast. "There are no words for how much I adore you." He whispered as his fingers clenched onto the back of her thigh. She could think of three little words that had been on her mind that explained how much she adored him, but she sure as hell wasn't going to interrupt the moment to say them. Catherine gasped as he pushed her knee up to her chest and swiftly brought their bodies together.

She was dead. Catherine was sure of it. There was no other reasonable explanation for the level of utter pleasure she was experiencing. Amy had once joked that sex with Steve McGarrett would be so mindblowing that she wouldn't live to tell about it, and damn if that weren't true. "Oh my god." She could barely utter the words. Their frantic romp in the sheets upon his arrival the previous day was nothing compared to this. Steve was making love to her - no doubt about it.

He grinned as he looked down at her face. Catherine twisted and writhed in euphoria underneath him. The way she called out his name alone had him about to fall apart. Steve nearly collapsed on top of her when all was said and done. Catherine giggled as his forehead rested on hers and his sweat dripped onto her skin. "Thank you." He mumbled as he kissed her.

"Pretty sure I should be thanking you." She smirked as she rolled out from under him and tried to tame her wild hair.

Steve shook his head as he grabbed her arm. Billy had done the same thing back on the Enterprise and she felt immense trepidation. With Steve, she was filled with hopeful anticipation. "Not for the sex." He pulled her back to his chest and held her close. "For saving me… for everything, Cath."

"You did really good." Catherine smiled as she held his hand and walked through the hallways of the education building at the SEAL training headquarters at Pearl-Hickam.

"Commander!" A voice called out behind them. Steve and Catherine turned as Admiral Rhodes quickly walked down the hallway after them. "Ma'am." He nodded towards Catherine. "I just wanted to thank you for coming down here and, uh, talking to the boys. You know, we're really trying to change things around here for the special ops boys. Give 'em a fighting chance when they get out, you know?"

Steve nodded as he shook the admiral's hand. "Yes, sir. Nothing I'd like to see more."

"Come by anytime you'd like. It'll be good for them to see a friendly face around here. You've seen more in your career than most of them'll ever see. It'll be good for them to have someone to talk to that's not in their chain of command. Someone they can trust."

"Absolutely." He grinned. "I'll make a point to get back over here soon."

Admiral Rhodes nodded politely at Catherine, "You too, Lieutenant. Welcome anytime."

Steve said a quick goodbye before reaching down for Catherine's hand and walking with her back to the truck. He lingered against the passenger door as he helped Catherine up into the cab. "Tani's not expecting us back to get Shelbs for another hour and a half. Wanna make a stop on the way?"

"As long as there's food, I'm game." Catherine laughed as she rested her hands on her belly.

He chuckled and hopped in the driver's seat. "Fine. We'll get you and the troublemaker a snack too."

"The spot at Ala Wai." She smiled as he slowed the truck to a stop. "Do I have something to apologize for?"

Steve jumped down from the cab and carefully walked across the rocky shore to help her down. "No." He chuckled. Over the years, the seawall at Ala Wai had become their spot to kiss and make up whenever they'd had a fight. He took her hand and the shave ice they had stopped for and guided her to a spot to sit. "You know, I have a uh, a confession."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" She asked as she dug the plastic straw into the shave ice and took a bite.

"All those years ago before Maldives, Amy called me and uh, told me about her telling off Harrington in the mess hall on the Enterprise after he made a pass at you." He chuckled. "She was worried he was going to have her written up for it since he outranked her, and uh, she wanted to see if I could convince him not to. You know - SEALs and rank and that sorta thing."

Catherine laughed, "She never told me what was said between the two of them. She just said that she gave him some advice is all."

Steve chuckled, "I'd never heard her be so stressed before. I mean, she called me for crying out loud!"

"What'd you tell her?"

He smirked, "That I'd call in a favor to Jameson and that I was gonna kill Billy for even looking at you."

Catherine looked out at the water, "You know I didn't act on it, right? I mean, he gave me plenty of opportunities…"

"I know. Amy told me that too." He nodded as he leaned over and wrapped his arm around her. His thumb brushed against her shoulder. "You know, I don't think I've ever made it up to you."

Her brow furrowed as she looked up at him. "Made what up?"

"Saving me." He sighed as he looked down at his shoes. Tears immediately welled up in his eyes at the memories of the darkness that had plagued him. "Truth is, that night that you came out onto the balcony at that place we rented… I didn't know if I was gonna make it through the night. You know? I was, uh… I was thinkin' about throwing in the towel. But you woke up and came outside and then we talked and you got me to sleep… and hell, I don't know how I'll ever repay you for that."

Catherine laced her fingers into his. "I told you I'd have your six."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Wow, this was a heavy one to write. Sometimes the truth is more terrifying than fiction. Digging into Operation Strawberry Fields (which has since been somewhat declassified) was eye opening to say the least. I do want to take this time to remind you that this story is rated M which is why I felt comfortable with approaching the topic of suicide, depression, and PTSD.

There is no shame in talking to someone or getting help.

The National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1 . 800 . 273 . 8255

I love you all! Thanks for reading and reviewing!
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XO,

-Mags-