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.


"Princess, wake up." Jude's gruff voice startled her awake. "Catherine. You need to get up."

Catherine peered at him ruthlessly through sleep deprived eyes, "If you're waking me up for anything other than an imminent threat to national security, I'm going to kill you." Their assignment in Saudi Arabia had them up at all hours of the day and night, taking turns running surveillance, tailing targets, and gathering intel. Why couldn't evil people operate at reasonable hours of the day? For the first time in months, she had carved out six consecutive, glorious hours of sleep and she was ready to end anyone who got in the way of that.

"It's Greer."

She rolled her eyes and stuffed her head back in the sorry excuse for a pillow, "Fuck her." Catherine hadn't heard from Steve since her birthday, but the news of his capture of Sienna Greer and her subsequent arrest had made it around the globe.

"Catherine, wake the fuck up." He barked as he ripped the covers off of her, "Greer escaped. She's on the fucking run, now get up and get your ass to the briefing room."

That got her attention. Catherine pulled on a sweatshirt and practically jumped into her jeans. "Are we getting pulled out of the field? Our op isn't anywhere close to wrapping."

Jude glanced down the hallway as he lowered his voice, "My guess is, they're putting a kill or capture on her head. The orders are coming down from Haspel herself. She's giving the briefing as soon as the other teams in this hemisphere get online."

She waited a beat after he left her room before grabbing her personal cell phone and turning it on. Not even bothering to read the eighty text messages from her parents, she sent one off to Steve.

Catherine: Watching your six.


Her knee bounced to a perfect rhythm as the team crowded around the video conference call and listened to Director Haspel. Like they say about coincidences- they take a hell of a lot of planning. First, Steve tips her off about a mole in the Company, then he captures Greer and outs her as a double agent, and then she fucking escapes? He was in danger. She could feel it.

It was the sensation that tickled the back of her neck when she was being followed through town. It was the inkling in her mind that told her which mornings she should carry an extra firearm. It was the whisper that tipped her off when a situation was about to go sideways. Her intuition was honed to perfection. It was an acute sense that had saved her ass more than once.

When she thought about Steve, that sixth sense sent an unnerving warning to her brain. He was in jeopardy and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

Jude had been right. The CIA didn't care how it was done, what country Greer was in, and they sure as hell didn't give a flying fuck about extradition treaties or the lack thereof. They were burning the rule book. The kill or capture order went into effect immediately. There was no reward on her head - there didn't have to be one.

When an agent went rogue, it was up to the rest to put him or her down.

Catherine's cell began to buzz as the briefing ended. She dipped out of the conference room and pressed the phone to her ear, "Rollins."

"Cath, it's, uh… It's me."

Her heart leapt, "Oh my God, Steve…" She whispered, "Are you okay? We just got briefed on Greer. Do you… do you think she's coming after you?"

"Catherine." His thin voice stopped her rambling, "Joe's dead."

In the hallway of the safe house, Catherine sunk to her knees- a shot to the gut. Her hand covered her mouth. She knew. There was an edge to his exhaustion that told her it wasn't accidental. It wasn't of natural causes. It was Greer- she felt it in her bones. She collected her emotions and stored them neatly in a box. "Who are we putting down?"

Steve probably should have argued, but he didn't. He needed her. They both knew it. "Gregers Thomsen. He's a lawyer in Denmark."

"Do you want him dead or alive?"

"Alive." Steve confirmed. "We need him alive."

Catherine glanced up as Jude started towards her, "Send me all your intel and where to deliver the package."

"Copy that."


"Talk to me, Princess." Jude murmured as he eased onto her bed and sat behind her, "You peeled out of there fast. What's going on?"

Catherine's eyes didn't leave the screen as she scanned through four different angles of security footage, "It's probably better that you don't know."

One arm wrapped around her, his big hand stilling hers on the keyboard, "What happened?"

Catherine looked down at the footage and hit pause, "Years ago Steve's SEAL team was on an op that Greer oversaw. She sold the identities of the guys on the op to an international terrorist. They're all dead."

His head rested on her shoulder, "Shit, Catherine…. Fuck. I'm sorry…."

"Steve's the only one who made it out."

Jude grimaced. There was something to be said about surviving hell, but no one ever warned you about the guilt that came with surviving. "You're going after her, aren't you?"

Catherine nodded, "I have to." She pressed play on the surveillance footage and continued watching, "Those SEALs weren't just Steve's brothers- I knew them too, Jude."

"Tell me what you need."

She paused the computer and set it aside, "I need you to cover for me."

"Tell me you want to come with you."

"Jude…"

"Catherine, you shouldn't be going off the books alone."

She shook her head, "I won't be alone." Turning and putting her hand on his, she said, "Steve's watching my six."

Jude studied the screen as she made notes, "Where do we start?"

A wicked smile curved up on her lips as she caught a glimpse of her target, "I need a flight to Denmark and then something unmarked to get me and a rendition detainee to Montana."

"As you wish."


"Steve, I've got Thomsen. I'm bringing him in. Black chopper. Pilot's ex-Navy. You can trust him. T-20 minutes until we land at the ranch." Catherine's voice crackled over the satellite phone.

"Is he conscious?" Steve asked.

"Barely." Catherine smirked. "He's docile."

"Copy. See you soon." Steve chuckled. He looked out over the horizon. Darkness blanketed the area and there were no city lights for miles. It was faint at first, but the sound grew. He heard the distant thumping of the helicopter rotors. Steve was grateful that Catherine had given him a courtesy call so he didn't consider the chopper a threat and fire at them.

It had only been a week since he called and asked for her help in hunting down Omar Hassan's lawyer, Gregers Thomsen. Catherine didn't have to be told twice. She was on board for anything. Frankly, he was shocked that she had acquired the target so easily, but that was Catherine, always full of surprises.

The rotors kicked up dirt and dust. Steve shielded his eyes as he watched a shadow hop out of the bay, dragging something - or rather, someone, behind her. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and signaled to the pilot that all was well.

Steve watched as the helicopter lifted off and disappeared into the night. He sauntered over to Catherine and offered a weak smile. "Hey."

"Hey, Sailor." She replied softly. The drugged-out man at her feet groaned, but was met with a swift kick to the stomach from Catherine's boot.

Steve chuckled, "Someone got on your bad side, huh?" He pointed at the mess of a man on the ground. "Let's get him somewhere more comfortable to sober up." His voice oozed with sarcasm and vitriol.

Steve had been preparing for his new house guest while Catherine had been busy "acquiring" said house guest. He had cleared out a stall in one of the barns and created a rather cozy rendition suite. Steve plopped Thomsen down into the chair and cuffed his wrists and ankles down. A twisted smile crossed his lips as he walked out and locked the door behind him. Steve planned on giving Thomsen a day or two to come to terms with his new surroundings before they got down to business.

He walked back into the farmhouse to find Catherine sitting in what was left of the dining room. "Hey." Steve tried to sound positive, but frankly, he was just tired.

"Hey." She smiled softly.

Steve sat down on the couch beside her and rested his elbows on his knees, "Thanks for coming."

"I even brought you a present." She smirked.

He chuckled darkly, "It's a good one too."

Catherine glanced around the room, taking in the wretched state of the farm house. "They really did a number on this place…" Her voice trailed off.

"Yeah." Steve nodded. "Fridge still works." He shot her a wry smile.

"Is there any beer in it?" She laughed sarcastically.

For the first time in two weeks, Steve smiled genuinely. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed two bottles out of the fridge. He peered around at the moonlight streaming through the bullet holes. If it weren't so damn tragic, it would have been beautiful. He walked back into the living room and handed her a bottle.

"Cheers." She took a long sip.

Steve nodded in agreement and sipped his beer. For almost two hours they sat in silence nursing their bottles.

"I can't believe he's gone, Cath." Steve's whisper made her shudder.

Catherine nodded. "Me too." She glanced over at Steve - the man who had been her rock for so many years, she watched the tears well up in his eyes. Hesitantly, she reached out and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. That was all it took. In an instant, the great Steve McGarrett was hunched over and sobbing. Catherine rested her head on the back of his shoulder and gently rubbed his back. She knew that he had been keeping his emotions bottled up and she knew how dangerous that was. Joe was more of a father to Steve than his own father had been. Holding Steve as he wept crushed her. It wrecked her knowing that she couldn't stay indefinitely, regardless, she swallowed her pride and held him in her arms. Tonight she had to be his rock.

Catherine and Steve fell asleep on the couch that night. Steve's head laid in her lap, and for the first time since the siege on the ranch, he slept.


The morning light leaked through the windows of the old house. Catherine stirred awake and looked down at the man laying across her lap. She gently ran her fingers through his hair. Steve startled at her touch and snapped awake.

"Steve, it's me." Her voice was calm. "You're safe."

Steve's heart raced as his eyes darted around the room. "Cath…" His throat was dry and his eyes were still red and puffy from crying himself to sleep.

"Hey, Sailor." She kept her palm on his back.

Steve rubbed his face with his hands and stroked his growing beard. "Hey." He said groggily. Steve blinked a few times before sitting back on the couch, "How long was I out?"

"Seven hours." She smiled softly.

"Can't remember the last time I slept that long."

"I bet." Catherine laughed quietly, frankly, it had been a long time since she'd slept that long as well. "I like the beard." She pointed to his face, "Reminds me of your SEAL days. Well… you have a little more gray now."

Steve chuckled, "So is that it? You kidnap a guy and fly all the way around the world to tell me I've gotten old?" He teased.

Catherine looked down at her hands, "I flew all the way here because I wanted to make sure you were okay." She picked up a spent shell casing from the coffee table and held it in her fingers for a moment. "Didn't really seem like the kind of situation you'd want to bring Lynn into… you know… her being a civilian and all." She clarified.

"I know what you're doing, Cath." He leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the couch.

Catherine peered out of the corner of her eyes, "What is it exactly that I'm doing? I was just making an observation." Catherine leaned back against the side of the couch, "When we went to Kaho'olawe last year when I was after Asad Al-Laja you said things were good between you two."

"Lynn and I aren't together." He stated plainly. "I broke up with her a while ago, actually."

Catherine sat in silence for a moment, contemplating the possible reasons for him ending his relationship with Lynn. "Morocco?"

Steve shrugged, "More or less."

"How much does she hate me?" Catherine tried to crack a smile.

"She doesn't know." He looked over at Catherine. "What we did wasn't the reason…" He sighed, "It didn't help, but it wasn't the reason."

Catherine nodded, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" His eyes narrowed.

"Because the end of a relationship is something to mourn." Even after all their years together and apart, Catherine's kind demeanor remained the same.

Steve knew she wasn't talking about Lynn. She was referring to them - his relationship with her. She was referring to his dad. To Freddie Hart. To Joe. To Doris. Whether severed by death or distance, he had lost the people who were supposed to mean the most to him.

"I know." He whispered.


They had spent the majority of the day cleaning up Joe's house. Catherine had walked around picking up shell casings and sweeping up the broken glass while Steve continued working on patching the bullet holes, replacing the windows, and reinforcing the structure of the house. He knew that eventually he would need to call in a contractor to repair the damage from the RPG, but for now, this would have to do.

The clock told Catherine that they had been back together for just under twenty-four hours, but they'd said little to nothing to each other. She glanced over her shoulder as Steve walked back in the kitchen, pulled off his baseball cap and sunglasses, and tossed them on the table.

"What's all that about?" She motioned towards the hat as she stirred the bubbling pot on the stovetop.

"Gave Thomsen an MRE." Steve shrugged. "Didn't want him to know who I was just yet." He walked over to examine whatever it was that she was cooking for dinner. "He's got a big day tomorrow." He muttered.

Catherine nodded. She knew that Steve had interrogated prisoners at Guantanamo, but he rarely divulged what exactly it was that he did. Before her time in the CIA, she had been okay with not knowing. Now, they both knew more than they'd ever be able to forget. Steve was a kind man. He was gentle and honest. She knew plenty of service men who couldn't shake the nightmares of things that they had done in the name of God and Country, and it ate them alive and destroyed everything they held dear. Regardless of her and Steve going their separate ways, she couldn't help but be thankful that he seemed to be stronger than his demons.

"Sit." Catherine commanded as she laid silverware out on the table.

Steve hesitated but was caught with a raised eyebrow from Catherine. He chuckled and slid into the chair at the end of the table. "Yes, Ma'am."

Catherine laughed quietly as she slid a bowl of pasta in front of him. "Eat."

Steve rolled his eyes as he shoved a forkful in his mouth, "You're just like your mother, you know that, right?" He mumbled.

"So I've been told." She grinned as she sat beside him with her own bowl.

They ate in silence for a little while. Catherine glanced over to see that he had completely devoured the portion she had given him. She stood and reached out to grab his bowl, "Seconds?"

"Please?" Steve nodded.

Catherine grabbed his bowl and went to turn, but Steve's hand intercepted her arm. "Cath?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for coming out here." He said sincerely.

Catherine smiled softly, "Of course." She filled his bowl again and handed it to him and sat back down, "Look… I don't want to overstay my welcome, but… How long do you want me here?"

Steve's hand stilled before dropping the fork back into the bowl, "How long can you stay?" The double meaning was less than subtle.

She laced her fingers together and rested them on the table, "A couple weeks probably. Maybe a little over a month. I'm on a long term assignment, but my team is covering for me." Hesitating just a moment, she reached over and laid her hand on his, "I'm with you 'til the end."

He flinched, but didn't pull away.

"Thomsen's gonna talk. He's gonna give us Hassan's location and Hassan is gonna roll on Greer."

"You make it sound easy."

A smile flickered at the corner of her mouth, "Don't get your hopes up. The only easy day was yesterday." Pushing back from the table, she said, "I'm gonna grab a quick shower."

Steve nodded as he began to wolf down the pasta.


He heard the squeak of the shower as the water turned off. A few minutes later Catherine emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her hair, a thermal shirt stretched across her curves, and a pair of sweatpants riding low on her hips. She looked around the house until she found Steve stretched out on the couch. "I washed the sheets and blankets on the bed this morning." She motioned back to the adjacent room, "Why don't you crash back there? You'll be more comfortable." She smiled softly, "Probably get better sleep."

"You take it." He offered. "I can sleep out here."

"Steve, you need to rest. You've been running on fumes for almost three weeks." She scolded.

He sat up and paused, "We can share it, you know…. The bed."

Catherine grinned, "You'd like that wouldn't you." She winked playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

Steve chuckled as he stood up, "But what would your boyfriend think?"

"Boyfriend?" Catherine panicked. Did he know about Jude? And why did Jude pop in her mind as soon as he said the B-word.

"You're the one who told me you were dating a little bit. You know- when we were on Kaho'olawe?" He smirked.

"I kind of lied." She cringed.

"Oh, really." He stated sarcastically.

"What was I supposed to say? That I was lonely and thought about getting a cat, but the CIA has a strict 'no pets' in the safe house policy? Or that I tried going on a couple dates with civilians and they were all terrible and eventually just gave up?" She laughed. "I didn't want you feeling sorry for me."

"I know you lied, Cath." He chuckled, "Your poker face hasn't changed in twenty years."

Catherine rolled her eyes.

"Come to bed with me." Steve asked. "We'll both sleep better."

She hesitated. Steve was in a vulnerable place and she didn't want to make that harder by jeopardizing their mission with emotions - she remembered how much that had complicated things in Morocco. Although they had spent the better part of two days cleaning up Joe's farmhouse: sweeping up the shattered glass and picking up shell casings, the house was still a wreck. Moonlight leaked in through the bullet holes in the walls and ceiling, and the spot where the RPG had struck was still only covered with a tarp, causing the house to be a frigid temperature. January in Montana was no joke.

"I don't wanna be alone." He admitted.

Catherine nodded, "Okay." She timidly followed him to the bedroom and pulled back the covers on the bed. She watched as he slowly tugged his shirt over his head, folded it neatly, and set it back in his bag. It was as if everything was happening in slow motion and her world was spinning.

Joe was dead.

Steve was ten feet away from her.

Joe was dead.

She felt the tension in the air as his eyes locked with hers.

Joe was dead.

Steve was five feet away from her.

"I should've died, Cath…" His voice was low and hoarse. He was getting closer and closer. Catherine could feel the heat from his body as he stood in front of her. "I feel dead inside." His whisper drifted off into the night air. "I need to feel something."

Catherine was scared to touch him.

"I need to feel alive." He admitted as his eyes roamed her body.

Catherine was scared to touch him and feel a spark, because if she did, the whole world might burn. Her mind drifted back to when she was a little girl. A baby bird had fallen out of a tree in her backyard and she had run into the house to get her dad to help her put it back in the tree. Her dad had warned her not to touch it. His deep voice floated back into her mind, "Catherine, dear, there are some wild things that you just aren't supposed to touch."

Steve's hands slid onto her hips as he stood pressed against her body. "You make me feel alive." He whispered as fire shot through her body.

And then the world began to burn.


Catherine woke up the next morning curled up in Steve's arms. She shivered as a cold breeze blew through the drafty house. Her eyes wandered across his scarred face. His untamed beard hid most of his wounds, but the sight of his raw state made her father's admonition about the wild things creep back into her mind.

"Hey." His gruff voice startled her out of her thoughts.

"Hi." She replied softly.

Steve blinked and rubbed his eyes to rid them of sleep. Catherine immediately felt a chill wrap around her body and craved his warmth. "How long was I out?" He mumbled.

"All night." Catherine snuggled deeper into the blankets to keep the cold away.

Steve let out a scoffing laugh, "That's probably the best sleep i've had in a long time."

Catherine smiled kindly, "The, uh, 'workout' before you crashed probably helped."

"Cath, I'm sorry." He sighed. "I, uh… I shouldn't've come onto you like that."

She shook her head, "Don't be." She chewed on her lip for a moment before continuing, "I think we both needed to feel something.

The warning resounded in her mind again, "Catherine, dear - there are some wild things that you just aren't supposed to touch." And then she remembered her childhood response, "But what if I'm wild too?"

When Steve pulled her back into his arms, she didn't protest in the slightest. In the dawn light she could see the damage. The stab wounds. The bruises. Her finger trailed gracefully along the amateur stitches, "Was this a DIY patch up?"

"Junior stitched me up after Bauer tried to off me at my place. The rest happened here."

"Geez." She breathed. Her hand wandered lower to the three pointed scar that sat just above his still flawless abs.

"That was the transplant."

Catherine let out a quiet groan. She traced her fingers from scar to scar, playing connect the dots on his skin.

"Multiple GSWs. Those are from when the, uh, the plane I was flying got shot up… causing the transplant."

She grimaced, "You're a mess."

Steve's hands slid down her side, "Takes one to know one."

A smile quirked up on her lips, "Talk to me." She urged as she reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, "Where's your head at?"

The light in his eyes dimmed as he was reminded of all the events that had transpired to have her end up in his bed. Steve let his heavy lids close and allowed himself to enjoy her touch. "I'm gonna work on Thomsen today."

The way he said it sent shivers down her spine.

When they had met up for R and R in the Maldives, he had confided in her about his time interrogating prisoners in Guantanamo. He had been broken and scared of himself. At the time, she couldn't understand what he was feeling or what he had been through. Now, however, she understood more than she'd ever want to admit.

And it scared the hell out of her.

Electricity pulsed in her fingertips. Catherine flexed and curled her hands, trying her best to make the sensation pass. That's when Steve's hand found hers.

"Take a breath." His gruff admonition made her freeze. Steve's hand covered hers, his thumb brushing across the top of her hand. "I, uh, I need you to go into town for some basics. Joe didn't have much stocked up here. There's a little general store thirty klicks north. There's a farm truck out in the barn. Take it."

Catherine caught on to what he was doing. He was sparing her from what could only be defined as torture. "We can make do with what's here. There's enough."

Steve knew that if Catherine Rollins had her mind made up, that there would be no changing it. Still, he was determined to try. "Cath, you should go. "

"I've got your six, Sailor. If you need to tap out and take a break when you're in with Thomsen, I'm here and I can take over. It's my job."

He had never been so aroused or terrified of the beautiful woman in his bed. "You're, uh you're not the same girl who was scared of a storm on the Enterprise, are you?" Steve tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and let his hand linger on her cheek. He had missed this. Missed her.

"That girl had to grow up."

Steve's thumb whispered across her pink tinted lips, "She turned into a badass woman." He leaned in and pulled her in for a kiss. Soft and sinful. "You scare the hell outta me, Rollins."


Journal #13

Bitterroot Valley, Montana

I'm in over my head. I've been on the ground in Montana for less than twenty-four hours and Steve and I already ended up in bed.

Why does this cycle never end? Why do I go completely senseless when he looks at me with those eyes? It's like there's something deep inside him and something deep inside me that will forever connect us. Leaving is going to hurt. It's not like when we went to Morocco or when he helped me hunt down Asad Al-Laja. There's no real end date to this.

Unlike the two times prior, we're both unattached. He said he broke it off with Lynn a while ago. I don't exactly know how long ago it was, but he seems over it. Maybe he just wasn't that invested.

I still can't believe that Joe is gone.

I don't know that it's really hit Steve yet either. I mean, I know he was here when it happened, but there's something to be said about the mix of adrenaline and shock when you lose someone like that. You keep planning, keep moving, keep taking that next step until the job is done.

We're soldiers. It's what we do.

I guess I'm afraid of what's going to happen when the job is done. When he slows down and the reality of what happened really sinks in.

The thing about pain, whether it's physical or emotional, is that it demands attention. A lot of the time, that's as it should be. You attend to a painful wound so that it heals. When pain doesn't go away quickly. When it festers. When it's not something we can easily fix, it starts to dominate our lives. Add in a hefty dose of righteous anger and it's easy to forget how to feel anything other than pain.

I'm glad he wanted me to stay. Someone needs to make sure he attends to his pain too.


Catherine stirred as Steve crawled back into bed. "Mmmm. Did Shelb go back to sleep?"

"Yeah." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and pulled her into his chest, "Just had a, uh, a bad dream or somethin'. She fell asleep on me and I put her back in bed. Never even opened her eyes." Steve brushed her hair aside and pressed another kiss into the junction of her shoulder and neck. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"How are you sleeping?" He asked as he stretched his arm down and tangled his fingers in hers.

"Better now." She nuzzled her head into his chest and rested in his strength. "You?"

"Better." He confirmed.

Minutes passed as they laid in silence. It had been quite a day. The stress of his job, her being with the kids, parenting, and keeping a house had turned into a cocktail of hurt feelings and miscommunications. The argument had been legendary.

"I love you." She murmured against his skin.

He exhaled a sharp breath, "I don't know why sometimes."

Catherine contemplated her answer as she was soothed by the steady rhythm of his heart. Until Shelby had woken up crying in the middle of the night, they'd retreated to their separate edges of the bed, refusing to touch. The cool wall of air between them was no match for the sharp edge of the icy words they had exchanged. She looked up at him, threading her fingers through his hair, "Maybe that's not how love works. Nobody's keeping score. I love you because I do. Because of who you were and who you are now. Because something deep inside me is connected to something deep inside you. And whatever that thing is? It's worth fighting for."


AUTHOR'S NOTE

Happy Monday, folks! Leave your thoughts and comments in the reviews!

We FINALLY made it to Montana! Whoop whoop!

Did you pay it forward this weekend? Did you do a random act of kindness? Tell me all about it! I paid for the car behind me in the Starbucks drive through and gave my hairdresser an extra large tip. (Homegirl is a MIRACLE WORKER!) Keep spreading kindness and joy this week! YOU make the world a better place!

XO,

-Mags-


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