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.


Journal #1

Qala-i-Mirza, Afghanistan

Today Jude and I are leaving the safehouse to go to Qala-i-Mirza today. It'll be our new home for a while. The last few days have been weirdly normal. Filling out paperwork for H.R. and getting acquainted with CIA field procedures and their version of the rules of engagement. Spoiler alert: there are none. It's basically the wild west. Just make it up as you go.

I've kept to myself. These people aren't permanent to me. I don't want to cloud my judgement by getting attached. Get in, get out, get home to Steve. That's the plan. Jude thinks it's weird that I refuse to socialize with any of the other agents in the house. To be fair, I wouldn't socialize with him either. He's just the only one who has introduced himself. Well… except for Coen. What an asshole. I'll be glad to be out of here and in a village. At least there I can do some good.

That's what I should be doing, right? Making the world a better place. I keep thinking about what Billy said in his letter. That he thought I was the kind of person who would be really good at doing good things. I hope I can live up to that.

You'd think that after spending nearly a month searching for Najib by myself that I'd be grateful for the company of everyone in the house, grateful for running water, electricity, and a bed, but honestly, I'm looking forward to living in Qala-i-Mirza. Alone. I should be more worried about being in a hostile area, but I've always found peace in those situations.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about Steve. It makes me physically ill to think about what happened to him. It makes me sick knowing that I'm lying to him about what I'm doing. He'd be mad as hell that I folded and signed that damned contract to keep him out of it. Steve would have wanted to fight his own battle. I've had all the time in the world to call him and talk while I'm waiting for us to move out, but every time I do, I feel like I'm going to die.

I hope that one day I can tell him. I hope that one day he'll forgive me. I hope he'll still love me because I don't think I'll ever stop loving him.


"Alright, Princess. This is us." Jude declared as he pulled the rickety pickup truck up to what she would describe as a shack. Because it was. Jude hadn't been derailed by her icy demeanor in the slightest. In fact, he had just shrugged it off and talked to her regardless of whether or not she offered anything to the conversation. The other agents in the house had dubbed her the Ice Queen and had a running bet on how long it would be before she was KIA. Like most things, amicable Jude just shrugged it off and softened the Ice Queen nickname by deciding to call her Princess instead. Which, of course, drove her absolutely crazy.

Catherine hopped out of the pickup and adjusted her hijab. A rusted bracket that appeared to be the doorknob was sure to give her tetanus. Avoiding touching it at all costs, she hooked the bottom of the wood slat door with her boot and toed it open. "Nice place." She muttered as she inspected the interior. One room with a dirt floor. Suddenly, she wished she was back with Amir and Farah, drinking tea and playing games with Najib.

Jude squeezed through the small door and dropped an armload of supplies on the floor… ground. "Don't worry. We'll make it homey." He grinned. Was Jude never in a bad mood?

Her brow furrowed. "Wait." She called out.

He returned with the last of their bags and kicked the door closed. One of the weathered slats splintered and fell off, leaving a gaping hole in the door. "Uh, I can fix that." He reassured her. Dropping the last of their things, he wiped his hands on his khaki dress pants and crossed his arms over his crisp, white Teach Across the Globe polo shirt. "What's up?"

"You said I wouldn't even know you were here." Catherine raised an eyebrow. "And this little... house… isn't big enough for the two of us. Also, this is my op. Not yours."

The corners of his mouth quirked with amusement. "First." He ticked off the beginning of his retort by holding out one finger, "Teaching and intel gathering is your op. You staying out of trouble is my op." He prepared her for his next response with two fingers, "The village won't know I'm here. They'll see me and my fancy, do-gooder polo leave after getting you set up, but I'll be back after it gets dark. You, however, will have to be okay with the fact that I'm here for your security and you're not staying here alone." His third finger sprung up, "And it's adorable that you think this is where we're gonna live." Jude stomped around the dirt floor until his boot echoed off of a sheet of metal. He bent down and brushed the dust away until he found a latch and pulled.

Catherine eased down the ladder that extended from the trapdoor. It reminded her of the underground cellar beneath Amir's house. "Is this a joke?" She wasn't claustrophobic, but the three by three cellar didn't add any liveable square footage to the shack.

Jude gripped the edge of the trapdoor and lowered himself down into the cellar, skipping the dilapidated ladder altogether. The ladder had held Catherine's weight, but Jude's Everest-sized body would snap it like a twig. They shimmied around each other until Jude was able to face the west wall. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket and held it between his teeth as he smoothed his hand along the wall. A faint hum filled the cellar as he pressed his palm against a black box that hung discreetly on the wall. "Biometric access. You, me, Coen, and Marshall are the only ones cleared for it right now."

The west wall gave way and he pushed it open. He padded down the hallway until he found the lightswitch. Catherine's mouth gaped open. Modern hallways spiderwebbed from the dirt entrance. Three or four rooms by her count. It was bigger than her bunk on board the Enterprise. Hell, it was twice the size of her apartment in Coronado.

Jude busied himself with checking all the rooms to confirm that they were secure. "Can you go topside and toss the bags down?" He called back. When he didn't hear her move, his head poked out of one of the rooms. "I don't think standing there impersonating a guppy will produce the desired results, Princess. We gotta move. Don't want the locals knowing we have running water, electricity, and M16s."

Catherine scurried back up the ladder and began to heave the loaded bags down into the cellar. One by one, she dropped them in before closing the makeshift door to the shack, lowering herself back down into the cellar, and slamming the trapdoor closed. "Question." Catherine called out as she walked down the hallway, "Which one was Marshall?"

"What?" He called out from their version of an intel station.

She dropped the bags in the doorway, "You said that Coen and Marshall have access. Who's Marshall?"

Jude nodded in understanding, "Ah. Caroline. She's the one who read you in on the op after you put Coen on his ass. She's the Operations Command for Afghanistan and our team lead. Oversees all the ops happening in the area."

"Pantsuit." Catherine muttered. Pantsuit's name was Caroline Marshall.

He chuckled, "What'd you just call her?"

Catherine cracked a nervous laugh, "I, uh, gave everyone these nicknames until I learned their names. Fun fact, I don't actually want to learn anyone's names, so I've just been calling her Pantsuit in my head."

Jude stared at her for a minute before his deep voice bellowed in raucous laughter, "What'd you call me?"

"Fridge." Catherine stated matter-of-factly.

"And Coen?"

She smirked, "Asshole."

Jude grinned as he grabbed the bags she had brought in and began unpacking, "Pretty accurate. Sucks that he's your handler. You're gonna be stuck with that jackass for a while."

Catherine looked around the intel room. There were screens filled with a live feed of the village from all different angles. One quarter of the screen was a dedicated aerial view of their little shack. She crossed her arms and watched one of the feeds. "Is that the school?" A handful of kids of various ages sat on the dirt floor, intently listening to a boy who couldn't be over the age of fifteen teach their lessons.

He glanced up and nodded, "Yeah. I'll have eyes on you at all times unless you go in someone's house. We've got all the roads covered. This place. The school." He pointed to a small weapons cage in the corner, "I've got eyes, but you don't leave here without a handgun. Keep it concealed at all times unless you have to use it. And if you have to use it, know I'll be on my way with something that has a little more firepower."

"You've been prepping for this op for a while then." She observed.

"Yeah." Jude groaned as he laid on his back underneath the CIA server and did his best not to strangle himself as he plugged in an assortment of wires. "You were the wildcard, but, uh, the more the merrier. Glad to have you on board."

Catherine pawed through one of the bags, "That makes one of us."


Journal #1

Qala-i-Mirza, Afghanistan

Jude is a good looking man. I'll say it. Super ripped, a movie star smile, and nice eyes. Here's the other part of that. We've been in the shack for a week now and I feel absolutely nothing. No butterflies. No attraction. Not even the slightest goosebumps. Jude's a great guy. (Even though I'm still freezing him out.) I'm sure hundreds, if not thousands of women, would kill to be sequestered with him like I am. The thing is, the only person on my mind is Steve. That must be what love is, right? Being surrounded by great people, but he's the only one I see. Just the thought of him has me hot and bothered all the damn time. He's 8,000 miles away and it's starting to be too much. I miss sex. I miss waking up to him. I miss him hogging the sink in the mornings. I miss the smell of his cologne mixed with salt water when he gets back from a swim. I miss hearing him say he's got my six.

Things have been tense between us. I call him as much as I can without raising suspicion, but I can tell he's not happy with my being here. Part of me regrets telling him not to come back to help me find Najib. Maybe if I had asked him to, I wouldn't be in this situation. I hope one day he'll understand why I did what I did. Maybe someday he'll be able to forgive me.


Catherine smiled and waved goodbye to her students as she walked into the shack. Jude had outfitted the top floor of the shack to resemble the traditional living spaces of the area in case she had visitors. There was a pallet of linens that served as a bed, a small desk, candles and lanterns, buckets for well water, and a clay oven. She pulled the front door closed and latched it from the inside. She kicked back the rug that covered the trapdoor and practically dove down the ladder. Catherine dipped into her room and tore off the hijab. Quickly, she changed into the SEAL hoodie and Steve's boxer shorts, rolling them over at the waist to fit her slim hips. She dug through her bag until she found the satellite phone. Dialing, she sat on the edge of her bed and waited.

"Hello?" He groaned.

Catherine knew that tone, "Hey- sorry, did I wake you?" She asked as she laid back on the bed.

Steve sighed, "No. I, uh, I haven't gone to sleep yet."

"Overnight case?"

"I just haven't been sleeping." He admitted.

Catherine loosened the tie that held her hair in a bun and ran her hand back through her tresses, "I miss you so much."

Steve was too tired to argue. "Then come home."

"Steve, I-"

"You can't. I know. You've said so." He snapped.

Catherine did her best to stifle the tears. "I'm trying to do the right thing here." She whimpered.

"Catherine, you sound miserable. You're not safe and you're choosing to stay there. I- I just can't wrap my head around it."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, "The right thing to do isn't always the easy thing."

Steve scoffed, "Cath, I got it when you said you weren't coming back until you found Najib. But this? You're choosing to be away from me. From us." He was sure Catherine was going to argue, but she never got the chance. A beeping on the line alerted him to an incoming call from HPD dispatch. "Look, I gotta go. Picked up a case." He hesitated, but added on, "I love you."

She winced at his words. Every conversation was getting harder and harder and she didn't know how much more she could take. "I love you too. Stay safe, okay?"

"You too."

Catherine dropped the satellite phone to her side and broke down into gut wrenching sobs. She didn't even hear the knock on her door. Didn't hear the creak of the hinges as it slowly opened. Jude's mammoth upper half sat on the edge of the bed, causing it to sink so far down she nearly rolled off. "I'm not gonna ask if you're okay, because clearly, you're not."

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie. "You're very observant." She tried to muster her sarcastic shield of safety, but the fight had left her.

Jude chuckled, "I have a law degree." Catherine looked at him suspiciously before he continued, "Not all of us get hand-picked to be a field agent. Consider yourself lucky that you spared yourself the student loans."

"Lucky me." She muttered.

He poked a meaty finger into her shoulder "How you doin', Princess?"

Catherine stared at the ceiling, "If I was a camel, I'd be covered in straw."

"An interesting way of saying lots of little things are upsetting that pretty head of yours." He noted.

She tilted her head and peered at him out of a hooded eye, "Leading the witness." She teased. Jude cracked a smile and it began to ease some of the burdens she had been carrying.

"I'm a good listener. You know, you can talk to me and I won't tell a soul. One, because I've actually passed the bar, so it probably falls under attorney-client privilege, and if that isn't good enough, there's always the fact that I work for the CIA and I'm literally paid to keep secrets."

Catherine groaned internally. Why did he have to be nice? Jude was the human equivalent of a golden retriever, and let's be honest, there's no way to stay mad at a furry ball of sunshine. "Maybe another time."

Jude stood up from the bed, causing her to bounce on the mattress as it sprung back in place. "C'mon, kid. Let's go celebrate."

Her eyebrows furrowed, "What are we celebrating and how are we celebrating?"

He motioned for her to follow him into the intel room. "We're celebrating you making it through your first week alive." Jude turned and flashed her a satisfied grin, "Which means Coen's out of the betting pool." He typed in a few commands on his laptop and turned the screen towards her, "A buddy of mine sent me a bootleg copy of the new Jack Ryan movie."

She frowned, "Isn't us watching Jack Ryan kind of like real doctors watching Grey's Anatomy?"

Jude crossed his arms, "Fine then. You and your bad attitude can go sulk in a corner somewhere and I'll enjoy this all to myself." He said as he held up a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Her eyes widened, "Where'd you get that?!"

"Dead drop while you were teaching today." He grinned. "Marshall thought it'd be a nice pick-me-up. You did real good this week. Got some good intel. Made in-roads in the community." He nudged her chin with a crooked finger. "You in or out?"

Catherine sighed reluctantly and sunk down into a chair, "I guess I'm in. Pour the Jack."


Halfway through the movie and a third of the way through the bottle, Catherine downed the last drops of whiskey in her cup and quietly spoke up, "Jude?"

"Hm?" He leaned his ear towards her as he kept watching the movie.

"What was your bet?" She poured herself another shot and knocked it back. "How long did you think I'd survive?"

Jude shook his head and peeled his eyes away from the movie, "I have faith in you, Princess." Catherine shot him a look that told him she was going to require a more definitive answer and he obliged, "I watched your interrogation. You lasted a hell of a lot longer than anyone else I've ever seen go through it. Showing you that footage of McGarrett?" He shook his head, "Between you and me? Coen played dirty. I wouldn't have done that. Marshall wouldn't have done that either."

"You're avoiding the question." She noted.

"Princess, you flew to Afghanistan to rescue a kid that had been taken by the Taliban. Your boy got held hostage and you still finished the op. Successfully, I might add. A bunch of agents are pretty pissed that you and McGarrett showed everyone up and sniffed out Umar Hassan with little to no official help." He paused the movie and rested his elbows on the desk, "I'm not betting against someone like that. Whatever the odds are? I'd put my money on you winning every single time."


Joe White: Incoming call from Shelburne at 16:00.

Steve stared at the clock in his office as it struck four in the afternoon. His phone immediately lit up and he snatched it off the desk. "Hello?"

"Gotta make it fast, I'm in the field." Doris's voice was chipper as if Steve hadn't just moved heaven and earth to get her to respond to his messages.

He didn't waste any time with pleasantries, "I think Catherine's in trouble. You got any contacts in The Salt Pit?" Even after being in hiding for twenty years, Doris had CIA contacts far and wide. The closest ones to Amir's village in Badakhshan would be at The Salt Pit black site just north of Kabul.

"What kind of trouble are we talking about?"

Steve quickly recounted the events leading up to his capture by Umar Hassan, Catherine rescuing Najib, and her decision to stay in Afghanistan. "Mom…" His voice was a desperate plea, "I just, I can't shake the feeling that something's not right."

"I know some people. I'll look into it." Doris reassured him.

"She's there illegally, Mom. You tip off the wrong people and she could get in serious trouble."

Doris laughed, "Oh please, you act like I haven't been entering countries illegally longer than you've been alive. Don't worry. I'll take care of her."

Steve didn't know why, but somehow that reassured him. "Thanks, Mom."

Just as she was about to hang up, Doris's tone softened, "Steve, I'm sure she's fine. But I'll look into it. Personally. And if anything's wrong, you can trust me to have her back. I know I've been a little misguided in accepting that you have people in your life that have a closer relationship with you than I ever will, but I like Catherine. I'll do whatever needs to be done to make sure she's safe."

"I love her." Steve admitted. "I'm… in love… with her."

He could practically see Doris's satisfied smile, "Have you told her that?"

"Yeah."

"And does she love you?"

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah. Yeah, Mom- she does."

Doris laughed and sing-songed, "Told you so! If I find anything, I'll be in touch."

As the line went dead, he stared at the picture on his desk. It was one Catherine had taken of them on their date to hike the Ka'au Crater Trail. She was grinning ear to ear as she held the phone away to take a photo while he planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek. The corners of her eyes crinkled with joy. He could still hear the laugh she let out as she snapped the picture. Steve loosened the top button on his shirt and pulled out the dog tags. He held her tag in his fist and pressed it to his mouth. "Got your six, Cath." He whispered.

A knock on his office door caught Steve's attention as he tucked the dog tags back under his shirt. Danny popped his head in, "Hey, uh, didn't expect to see you back. Thought you were still at the DMV and the bank tryin' to get everything straightened out."

Steve rubbed his hands over the tired lines on his face. Thirteen hours over two days spent between the DMV, the bank, the social security office, and the post office, trying to replace all of the contents of his wallet and passport. Hell Week in BUD/s was easier than dealing with incompetant government workers. "Just got back."

Danny dropped a box on his desk, "This came with the mail while you were out." He pointed to the many international stamps and customs checks plastered on the cardboard. "Think it's from Catherine?"

He shrugged and sliced his pocket knife through the tape. Opening the flaps of the box, his passive face evolved into a bubbling fury. "Son of bitch." He muttered as he pulled out his wallet and passport. Chucking his passport against the window, he sulked back in his chair and groaned, "I just wasted two fucking days replacing all that shit, didn't I?"


Catherine tiptoed down the stairs after rocking Will to sleep. She found Steve passed out on the couch with one of her journals open in his hand. He had been reading them religiously. Sometimes he would ask her questions. Other times, she would watch the emotions on his typically controlled face change like a slideshow.

It wasn't so scary, she thought, letting him into the world she had to hide away for so long.

Steve stirred as he felt her lift the journal off of his chest, "C'mon, Sailor. Time for bed."

"Five more minutes." He smirked as he swatted aimlessly towards her ass.

Catherine caught his hand and pulled him to his feet, "Bed, mister."

He nodded and kissed the top of her hand, "You comin' with?"

She thought back to all the lonely nights she had spent without him. All the times she had cried herself to sleep. All the days where it took every ounce of courage and colorful threats from Jude to get out of bed. She'd never take another day or night with him for granted. Catherine gave his hand a little squeeze. "Always."


AUTHOR'S NOTE

Leave your thoughts and comments in the reviews! Thank you to every single one of you you takes time out of your day to leave me a note!

Have a wonderful weekend, you amazing people!

Be good humans! Spread joy, respond in kindness, offer grace.

XO,

-Mags-


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