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.


"Morning, Princess." Jude murmured. His hands slid around the thin cotton of her tank top and pulled her back against his chest.

Catherine rolled in his arms to face him. "We slept together again."

He nudged her nose with his, "You fell asleep halfway through digging up dirt on Donovan Douche Canoe. I carried you in here "

She snorted at the moniker, "Oh God." Catherine rubbed her eyes, "Last night actually happened, didn't it?"

"I'll take a gander and say you're referring to you and Senator Dickhead at the gala considering all you and I did was actually sleep."

"Yeah. That."

Jude chuckled, "It happened. But, if it makes you feel better. I found some shady business deals he's been involved with. Sent it over to a journalist friend of mine who's making sure it gets as far as it can go. Might not be enough to take him down for good, but it'll put him in some hot water until I can find something undeniably damning."

"I wanted to kill him with a cocktail shaker last night."

He laughed, "Sorry to disappoint. There will be no murder, but I'm sure we can come up with something equally unpleasant for him."

"That's what I like about you, Jude Beckett."

"My affinity for plotting someone's demise, or my inability to say no to you?"

Catherine smirked, "A little bit of both." He pulled her up against his chest and traced soothing circles on her back. "Jude?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks for staying over last night."

"Course."

She tucked her head under his chin, "Do you want to talk about her?"

Jude grunted, "No."

Her eyes flitted open to meet his, "You don't have to walk on eggshells around me. You can talk to me about Beth. I mean… you know everything about Steve."

His fingers tangled in her hair as he drew her lips to his, "I really don't want to talk about anyone else while I'm in bed with you." Jude kissed her while his hands slid around the soft curve of her hip. Down the bend of her ass to the back of her thigh, he tucked his hand behind her knee and brought it up over his hip. His guttural growl vibrated against her skin as he kissed down her neck and into the dipping v-neck of her tank.

Catherine's breath hitched in her throat. "Jude." His name was barely a whisper.

"Tell me you want this." He begged. Jude's forehead rested against her clavicle. He pressed a kiss into the valley of her breasts. The restraint was killing him.

The battle between logic and impulse waged war inside of her. Everything with Donovan had been so sterile. So passionless. They'd barely even kissed. But Jude? She felt safe. Wanted. Desired.

Was the risk of losing him worth it?

"I thought we were just friends." She breathed as her chest rose and fell against him.

Jude chuckled, "Princess, you and I both know we stopped being just friends a long time ago."

Catherine hesitated, "What is this?"

"Friends with benefits?" He suggested.

She laughed, "Can we really be just friends with benefits?" She brought his chin up to meet hers, "Things like that always start out so simple, but then feelings get involved and it gets complicated. The whole 'no strings attached' thing? There are always strings, Jude."

He drew her bottom lip in with his teeth. A gentle nip, but Catherine's whimper told him it had elicited the desired reaction, "Tell me what you want then." His tongue slid against hers in a fiery kiss. He pulled back, "Tell me what you want and I promise you, that's what you'll get."

Catherine melted into his every touch. Every kiss erased the stress and tension that plagued her incessantly. She was so small against him. So fiercely guarded and protected. So safe with him. Jude pushed himself lower on the bed as he lifted the hem of her tank. He kissed just below her navel and then worked his way up. Catherine caught his jaw in her hands and lifted his head, "I don't want to lose you. I would never forgive myself if I did."

Firmly, he grabbed a handful of her hair and tilted her head back. Heat zipped down her spine as he nipped and kissed behind her ear. "Tell me you want me to stop."

She didn't.

"Catherine." He growled. His rigid self-control was fading fast. "This ends one of two ways."

"Don't give me that ultimatum. Not when I'm about to leave."

Fuck. Jude gritted his teeth. Some fucking detainee in Cuba had dropped a line about Al-Laja and Catherine and Coen were supposed to be wheels up in six hours to interrogate the bastard. He sighed, "Catherine, look at me." He waited until her brown eyes met his green. "Catherine, I care about you. I do." He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and cupped her cheek in his wide hand, "I haven't felt this way about anyone since Beth died. Honestly, I didn't think I was gonna ever feel like this again. I thought that this part of me died when she did."

Catherine rested her head in his hand, "I can't give you what you need." She admitted.

His brow furrowed. The lines on his forehead crossed and the corners of his pursed mouth ticked into a frown, "What do you think I need?"

"Commitment." She shook her head, "I can't go there again."

"I'm not asking for commitment."

"But that's what you're made for, Jude. Don't you see it?" Catherine sat up in the mess of sheets as he pushed himself back against the headboard, "You've stuck with me through it all when you didn't have to."

Jude closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. He exhaled a cleansing breath that was more frustration than relaxation, "Go to Cuba. Come back. If you still feel like you can't do this, then I'll accept that."

Catherine leaned over and rested her head on his chest, "I don't want to ruin us."

"Princess, no matter what happens, I'll be on your side." He tilted her chin up and left her with a loving kiss, "And if you change your mind, you'll know where to find me."


Journal #10
Camp Delta - JTF Guantanamo

"You know, the beaches in Cuba look pretty different from here and from Hawaii."

I remember it plain as day. That night in Maldives when Steve told me everything. I saw that look in his eyes. He was lifeless, but there would be flashes of something. Anger or rage, maybe? Maybe anxiety and terror of what he had done or what he had learned he was capable of.

I remember him humming Strawberry Fields by the Beatles. That was his breadcrumb. He asked me how I felt about the Beatles.

Maldives was a long time ago, but I remember everything he told me and I've never told another soul. Now, I'm here.

And I get it.

Because I've done it.

"War allows us to dress monsters up and pretend they're saviors." I didn't understand what Steve meant when he said that, but now I do. Because now I'm that monster too.


The wire coils of the mattress poked into her already aching back. Every muscle in her body sang as she rolled to her side. There was no getting comfortable here. That was the point.

Sure, she was in officer housing. She wasn't in a rendition suite, but that didn't make it any better. Rendition happened regardless of what time it was. The tiny room was stuffy. She thought to prop the window open, but the blood curdling screams from the adjacent facility carried through the glass enough as it was.

Catherine thought about calling Jude. She could use someone to talk to. Between being on the plane with Coen and running her first enhanced interrogation, she was tangled in the adrenaline and the guilt.

She kicked one leg out from under the blanket and readjusted her pillow.

That was strange...

Catherine moved the pillow out of the way and trailed her fingers along the etched letters on the metal railing of the bed frame. Reaching over, she grabbed her phone and flicked on the flashlight. It was plain as day.

GY6

What are the odds it wasn't him? Sure, it had been years since Steve had been in the Navy, much less here, but she knew he had, at one time, been here. And GY6? That had always been their shorthand for 'got your six'.

Running on the adrenaline of the day, she snapped a picture of the railing and fired off a text before she had the sense not to talk to him.

Catherine: How do you feel about the Beatles?

Minutes passed and regret began to pool in her stomach. If he saw the picture she sent and the shorthand on the bed railing hadn't been him, he would think she was a raving lunatic, or worse- pining over him. The sheets glowed as her phone lit up and softly vibrated.

Steve: How are the beaches?

Catherine: A lot different than Hawaii and Maldives, that's for sure.

Steve: You free to talk?

She chewed on her lip. She should say no. She should turn off her phone. Hell, she should rip the SIM card out and throw it away entirely. But sleep deprivation makes you do crazy things, that's why she swiped across the screen and pressed call.

"How you holding up?" Steve's voice filled her ear. She couldn't quite tell where he was, but it was quiet. Glancing at the clock and factoring the time difference, he was probably at home, about to go to bed.

Catherine sighed, "How did you do it? How did you stay here as long as you did?"

Steve chuckled quietly, "Can't sleep?"

"Something like that."

"I'm not gonna ask questions because I, uh, I know how it works. But you can talk. I'll listen."

Somehow, that was the most comforting thing he could have said. Catherine relaxed against the lumpy mattress, "I was in the box for six hours with a detainee today." She groaned. "I can't get the sounds out of my head."

Steve let out a string of colorful profanities that would make even the most seasoned sailor blush. "I take it back. I'm asking questions." She heard, what she assumed to be, the lanai door opening and closing. The faint ambience of the waves crashing floated over the line. It sounded like home. "Were you, uh, were you renditioning or observing?"

"Both." She whimpered, cursing how pathetic she sounded.

"Did you get what you needed?"

Catherine sighed, "Not yet. Gotta get back in there in a couple hours."

"You can do this, you know." His voice was calm. Resolute. "You're always one step ahead of the rest of us. Didn't I, uh, didn't I always tell you that you're the smartest person I've ever met?"

"I don't follow."

"You scare the hell outta me because I know you, Rollins." He chuckled, "If they knew you too, they'd be shaking in their slip on shoes."

Catherine snorted and covered her mouth, "I haven't heard someone call me Rollins in a long time."

She could practically see his lopsided smirk as he laughed quietly, "That's a damn shame."

"Did you really scratch 'got your six' into the bedframe?"

"Yeah. It, uh, it took me forever."

She snickered, "Why?"

Steve sighed, "I did it with a quarter. On the, uh, the nights I couldn't sleep, I did it to keep my mind occupied on somethin' else."

"That bad?"

"You remember Maldives. How I was back then. It, uh, it changes you."

Catherine looked at the clock. She had two hours before she was supposed to go back to Strawberry Fields with Coen. Her body was relaxed and her mind was at ease. "You got any advice for me?"

Steve was quiet for a few minutes and she didn't mind in the least. It was just like when he would call her just to fall asleep. "Only do what is necessary. Nothing more, nothing less." He paused a beat, "Keep your priorities straight. It's not about punishing your detainee, it's about getting useful information. In my experience, getting in someone's head is, uh, it's a lot more effective than breaking their body. You're smart, Cath. You can do this."

"Thank you." She chewed on her lip before continuing, "And thanks for answering the phone."

"I told you I'd have your six."

A smile flickered at the corner of her mouth, "Be in my ear?"

Steve didn't hesitate. "Always."

"Stay safe, Sailor."

"You too, Cath."


Journal #10
Camp Delta - JTF Guantanamo

Somewhere around hour 10,000 (Okay, so maybe like… hour twelve.) the detainee cracked and dropped the location of one of Asad Al-Laja's associates. My hands are bloodied, but my mind is sharp.

When I walked into the rendition suite and asked Coen what the rules of engagement were, his response chilled me: whatever you want.

I like rules. I thrive on rules. When it comes to potentially harming someone, I need rules. In combat it's always made clear what the parameters are. But here? I had to make my own. So, I decided to do what Steve said. Only what is necessary. Nothing more, nothing less. I told myself not to get carried away. You can't get intel out of a dead man.

But I did it. I did my damn job. Now we're loading up the bird to head back to Langley so the team can form a plan with the new intel. We're going to get this son of a bitch.

Talking to Steve a few days ago helped. Just hearing his voice made everything better. It calmed me. Got my head straight. I hate that he still has that effect on me, but I'm lucky as hell that he's on my side. He's watching my six, and I'm watching his. It's what we do, it's just a little bit different now.

It was nice talking to him again. I miss him. I miss our friendship. What we had was undeniable. But where we are now after all the hurt and pain we caused each other? Where we are right now is where we need to be. To heal. To forgive.

When your heart has been shattered, forgiveness feels like an unrealistic request. At first, it feels too soon and then months and years go by, and it feels too late. But the thing is, I don't think forgiveness is something we have to grit our teeth and muster up. It's not something where we have to grin and bear it. It's not an act of determination or sheer will- it's made possible by cooperation.

I think after Morocco, after we aired our dirty laundry. After we said what we had to say - rather, what we hadn't been saying for years, I think we're both moving on.

I think Steve will always have a place in my life. I hope I always have a place in his. I'm not sure what those places look like, but I hope they exist. I think we're both in a season of growing right now. We need this time to strengthen ourselves. To be resilient. And I think when the time comes, maybe we'll grow our friendship - the way we used to be.

For now, at least, I can rest easy knowing that we can still care about each other. And for now, that's enough for me.


Catherine's hands shook as adrenaline pumped through her veins. It was the rush that only came from an exciting win or a devastating loss. Thankfully, it was the win that had her on edge. Not an hour after she had coerced the detainee into spilling the intel, she and Coen were on a plane back to Langley. The Corvette growled as she floored it up to Jude's cabin. The white Christmas had melted into a gray January, but it wouldn't matter. They were going to be in the air, heading to Africa, in less than twenty-four hours.

She tried her best to take a slow breath to still her racing heart, but she couldn't shake it. She needed to run or assault a punching bag. It was the addicting high she was used to feeling after a firefight in Afghanistan. She slammed the gear shift into park and stumbled out of the car. "JUDE!" She shouted as she lifted up the doormat and grabbed the spare key. "JUDE!" Catherine yelled again. His truck was in the driveway, but he could have been out getting firewood or on a run through the trails. She shoved the key into the doorknob and gave the handle a twist. "Jude! I-"

He sauntered out of the bathroom with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. Catherine stopped dead in her tracks. Drops of water glistened off of his broad shoulders and his boulder-like biceps. His sandy hair was slicked away from his face. His flawless pectorals led to a grid of perfectly square abdominals that were centered between the two hard cut obliques that dipped just below the white towel that was hanging dangerously low on his hips.

The post-assignment high rushed through every extremity in her body. Their eyes connected and with it, the adrenaline. A successful op was an undeniable aphrodisiac for agents. Jude felt it too.

Catherine's keys dropped out of her hands and hit the floor with a metallic clatter. In an instant, Jude crossed the room and had her pushed up against the door. "Tell me you want this."

Catherine pushed the towel away from his hips, letting it drop to the floor, "I can't commit."

"That's not a deal breaker." He growled as pulled her in for a panty melting kiss.

She pulled away momentarily as he worked her shirt away from her body and tossed it aside, "I want this. Right now."


"Mind if I join you?" Jude walked into Steve's workshop and looked around. "Nice place."

Steve grinned as he turned off the circular saw and pushed his safety glasses on top of his head, "Don't mind at all. Make yourself at home."

He chuckled, "Apparently I was driving Catherine crazy."

Steve glanced out the workshop door and caught a glimpse of Catherine watching him from the bay window where she liked to read and ogle him unabashedly while he worked. He stifled a laugh, "It's, uh, it's not you, man."

Jude followed his gaze and immediately figured it out. Deciding to change the topic from Steve and Catherine's obviously healthy sex life, he opted for. "Hey, look, I owe you big time. I really appreciate you being cool with all this and giving her and I a chance to reconnect."

"You took care of my girl." Steve rested his forearms on the plank of wood on his work table. "The way she talked about it, you, uh, you made sure she didn't make rash decisions. Didn't push her into anything she didn't wanna do." He shrugged, "I know there's history there, but I respect the hell outta you." Steve grabbed a stack of sandpaper and began to work at the rough edges of the wood. "And my, uh, my mother and I… we had a touch and go relationship, but Cath, she… she told me you and Doris were real close."

He meandered around the shop, silently admiring Steve's handiwork. Tables, bookcases, toy bins, even a dollhouse- all handmade with flawless craftsmanship. "Yesterday Catherine said something... She said that the three of us- we all knew Doris in different ways. So, if you ever wanna know about her. What she was like in The Company, I'm more than happy to share. So, uh, offer stands."

Steve gave him a nod of gratitude and offered him a piece of sandpaper- the male equivalent of being welcomed into the pack. Jude stood across from him and began working at the opposite side of the plank in a comfortable silence.


Catherine tucked her feet underneath of her body as she watched Jude and Steve from the window seat. The way Steve loved her, it was something for the storybooks. The way he fought for her, picked up her broken pieces, welcomed others into their lives without jealousy or resentment- he was healing her. Giving her peace. Jude at her side, Steve at her six.


AUTHOR'S NOTE

Happy Wednesday, loves! We're halfway through the week! Leave your thoughts and reactions in the reviews!

Q and A:

1. Why do you put up a chapter every day? I like to push myself. It's a challenge. It keeps my mind fresh. Yes, I could slow down and only do a few chapters a week or even just once a week, but if I'm being honest, I see the light at the end of the tunnel and I'm ready to be DONE.

2. Why do you write a chapter anyways when you have writer's block? Why not just take a day off? Truthfully, I'm scared that if I take a break on a hard chapter that I'll never pick it up again. Don't quit on a bad day. You have three choices: give up, give in, or give it all you've got.

3. What's next after Pehea is done? Do you have another fic lined up? Yes, no, maybe, and I don't know. I have a lot of different ideas swirling in my head as far as what's next, but all of them are preceded by a break from writing. I've been writing just this story daily for over three months now. Each chapter is about four hours of writing and an hour or two of proofing and edits. So, yes. I have other fic ideas. No, I don't know what's next. Maybe I'll take a break from FanFiction, maybe I'll keep going. I don't know what I am going to settle on at this moment in time.

4. How is Mr. Mags liking Throwing Darts? So far so good! (I think!) It's a lot easier to be brave and outgoing on the internet when no one knows you in real life! It's intimidating to have someone who knows you read your work. He's watched the entire series with me so he's very familiar with the franchise.

Any other questions? Leave them in the reviews or on Twitter and Instagram XOMaggieWrites

Have a wonderful day!

XO,

-Mags-


l