Chapter 44
Steve stood next to Tom as the coffin containing Gabrielle's body was loaded onto the CIA plane. Tom would be accompanying her back to DC, where he would meet Greer's parents and help them arrange the funeral. When they had a date organized, Steve would fly over for the service to pay his final respects. Steve started to speak, "Look, man – I'm so sorry for dragging you all into my mess. This would never have happened if I hadn't involved Gabrielle−" Tom interrupted Steve at that point,
"No way, you don't get to internalize the guilt and put all this onto yourself. If you hadn't stirred all this up then we never would've identified Kray as the mole. He was directly responsible for all of our missions in Asia – Gabrielle only just got out of her last assignment by the skin of her teeth. We would have ended up dead eventually, when the traitorous bastard next decided to sell us out for a payday," Tom checked Steve was taking it in before he continued, "she didn't die because of anything that you did. She died because that piece of shit decided that money was more important than the lives of his own people . . . I was up most of the night thinking about all of this, it could've been me or any number of the people I care about lying in that coffin. The agency just doesn't feel the same anymore. I'm probably going to hand in my resignation when I have seen to the funeral and had some time to just think about things."
Steve pulled him in for a one-armed hug, "They'll always be a spot for you on Five-0. I could square it with Chin and the Governor." His friend smiled,
"Thanks, man – but what about you? Is there still a place for you on Five-0?" Steve shook his head,
"I couldn't do that to Chin, he's earned his spot as the leader of the Task Force. Besides, my new role at Pearl isn't so bad – I still get to sleep in my own bed most nights." Tom chuckled despite his mood,
"Try not to sound so enthusiastic, you might even convince yourself." Both men turned as they were informed that the plane was ready for departure. With a final hug they went their separate ways; Tom up the steps of the plane and Steve back to JBPHH.
No one seemed to be around in the situation room, so Steve went looking for Harry in his usual office. He found the industrious intelligence officer at his desk, clacking away with deadly intent on his keyboard. Steve clapped him on the back,
"Careful Lt. Brown. You wouldn't want to do yourself an injury." Harry rolled his eyes,
"Just because I'm not dropping out of the sky on a HALO jump with 50 kilos of equipment strapped to me doesn't mean that I'm not making a difference, Commander." Steve smirked and checked that no one else could overhear him before slipping into a more informal greeting,
"You don't have to tell me that, Harry. Without your intel we wouldn't have achieved half as good a result as we did," Steve eased himself into an office chair and used his feet to wheel it across the floor so he was next to Harry, "that reminds me, I still have a tracking chip in me like an unwanted pound dog. Do I need to visit the medics to have it removed?"
Harry laughed, "It's not sale or return, you know. They can't use it for anything else now that it has been in you." He suddenly looked concerned, "Is it causing you any problems?" Steve was quick to reassure the younger man,
"No, nothing like that. I don't even know it's there." Harry looked relieved,
"Oh that's good. Well, in that case we should leave it in place – this particular device has been tested for extended periods of time in situ and we might just be glad of it one day. You know, when you next get targeted by a deadly international arms dealer with an insane vendetta who is seeking revenge on you and your family." The SEAL chuckled darkly,
"I'm hoping that there's not going to be a next time . . ."
The men were interrupted by Commander White as he ducked his head around the door,
"Ah, Commander McGarrett. A word, if you please." Steve hopped up from the chair and, with a nod goodbye to Harry, followed Joe down the corridor and into an empty office. Joe motioned for him to take a seat and waited for him to get settled, "Outstanding work, Commander. Admiral Janderman is a very pleased man and I can tell you that's not a situation we get to see all that often." Steve supressed the smirk that was trying to get out at that remark,
"Thank you, Sir." Steve sat in silence, waiting for his CO to continue.
Joe duly obliged, "It is my intention to recommend you for promotion based on your performance evaluations and outstanding achievement. It could be viewed as a little early based on your time in service, but I believe that the Selection Board would review the application favorably . . . but before I did that, I wanted to know your intentions for the future. A promotion to a Senior Officer grade would require certain sacrifices from you – most importantly you would be unable to have any control over where you would be stationed. You would be deployed at a moment's notice to wherever the op dictated. I appreciate that your recent return to Oahu might make this more of a consideration than it perhaps would have been a year ago."
Joe stopped talking and observed the man sat in front of him. A number of emotions flitted across Steve's face as he processed the information for a few minutes and Joe didn't rush him. Steve pondered on Joe's bombshell. Part of him felt absolutely delighted; he had been focused on his career from the moment he had enlisted, never happy to just be coasting along – his relentless drive pushing himself to the limit to ensure that everything he did was to the very best of his ability. One of the most visible outcomes from this driven approach was a steady series of promotions to a higher ranking officer each time. But did he want to sign his soul over to the Navy, because that was what he would essentially be doing. In return for the promotion, they would control almost every aspect of his life again. He huffed to himself, this would have been such a no-brainer a year ago. Before the fateful mission with Freddie, before that god-awful gun shot over the phone and, last but not least, before Five-0 and his new extended ohana. He had rushed his last major career move, making a split-second decision in the heat of the moment and didn't want to do that again,
"Permission to consider the offer, Sir? May I get back to you with a decision tomorrow?" Joe nodded once, understanding how much was riding on this decision for the man,
"Permission granted. We'll meet at zero nine hundred hours when I'll expect a decision from you. You are free to leave the base to consider your options until then." Joe watched Steve leave the room and wondered what his protégé would decide, but swiftly came to the conclusion that it was just too close to call.
Steve had left the base and was driving back to his house when his cell phone rang. He flicked the accept button and waited for the person to speak. When they did he slightly swerved the wheel in surprise and was forced to make a slight correction to stay in his lane,
"Commander McGarrett? This is Margaret Thompson, Director of the CIA." Steve would've stood to attention if he wasn't driving at the time,
"Yes, Ma'am. How may I help you?" The lady gave a little smile to herself,
"Actually, it may well be the other way around, Commander. I am proposing that we meet when you are stateside for Agent Greer's funeral in a few days . . . I was terribly sorry to hear about her death, especially given that it was by the hand of a fellow agent." Steve composed himself, getting choked up at the mention of Gabrielle,
"Thank you, Ma'am. I would be available to meet either before or after the funeral, as soon as I have a confirmed date."
Director Thompson replied, "Excellent, I'll have my aide set something up once we know more and he will communicate the details to you in due course . . . oh and thank you for your exemplary work on our recent joint operation. Although you have created rather a lot of work for my agency, just tracking the money is occupying two full teams." Steve gave a little snort,
"I take it that it's good work though, Ma'am." She smiled,
"That it is, Commander. That it is."
As Steve drove the rest of the way home the journey was a blur. It wasn't every day that the Director of the CIA called you personally to say thank you and ask you for a meeting. He was amazed that she had even taken the time to find out who he was.
The first thing he did upon getting home was to kick off his boots and go straight out back. He stood on his lanai and wondered if it was too short notice to get everyone round for a cook out, they may already have made plans for the evening; then he faltered, remembering his promise to Gabrielle to have her meet the team while he grilled her a steak on his BBQ. Feeling the need to surround himself with friends he started texting and soon had a raft of replies, many in the affirmative with promises to bring drinks, sides and desserts.