Chapter 62

Steve was relaxing on his beach just soaking up the last of the sun after a long swim when he heard someone coming up behind him. He smiled, "You fancied soaking up a bit of island sunset, Danno? I've got Longboards in the fridge if you want to grab us a couple."

"No, not Danno – just your sister." Steve jumped up to hug her,

"Mary, what brings you by? Not that you need a reason. It's your house too." She smirked,

"I'm very glad that you feel that way because I have big plans for the place. I've been planning it and getting quotes from builders ever since you disappeared off with Danny on Operation Razza." She couldn't help the smirk that formed when she said the mission name out loud, "You know, that man's a genius, no one can think past the stupid name to even wonder what it was all about . . . what was it all about, anyway?"

Steve gave his devious sister a smirk back, "Nice try, Mare. It's better you don't know about that. Anyway, I was half-expecting to find the house being ripped apart by builders when we got back but you hadn't done a thing . . . I should have known that you were just biding your time! So, what are you thinking of doing to the place?" She sighed a little sadly,

"It's way past time we made some major changes, got rid of some of the ghosts - put our own stamp on our home." Steve couldn't agree more, his sessions with the therapist had got him thinking about how he was still clinging to the past and that it wasn't healthy for him. He followed the determined young woman into their family home to look over the proposed workplans, glad that she was getting into the renovation project. She was currently crashing with friends, not wanting to stay in the house, and he hoped that she would see it as her home too after it had been modernized.

It was about 3 weeks later when he was really regretting ever agreeing to the project. The place was a mess, it wasn't just a lick of paint - floorboards were being replaced and there was dusty plasterboard everywhere. Steve had initially wanted to do everything himself, the control freak in him finding it hard to hand over the reins to someone else. Mary had stood right in front of him, hands on hips, and fixed him with 'that look'. She had pointed out that he worked practically 24/7 and they would still be waiting for it to be finished this time next year. He had capitulated with a dramatic eyeroll, having to concede that she was absolutely right. A competent contractor would have the work done in a month or so. He had the money stashed aside to pay for it, being on the payroll for both the State of Hawaii and the Navy had its benefits. He was still living in the house during the renovations, politely declining Danny's offer to come stay with him. Even in the midst of all the dusty chaos, it was still preferable to Danny's poky little apartment. He was pulled from his reverie by the contractor shouting him over. The man pointed to something that was resting under the floorboards of the living room.

Steve was puzzled and knelt down to retrieve it and found himself holding a very old and rusty lockbox. He didn't have the key and so took it into his garage to break the lock open. A couple of hard blows from his claw hammer dealt with the lock easily enough and Steve flipped open the box, full of curiosity. Was it a secret stash of money that had been forgotten about or items of the family's precious jewellery? Maybe Mary had hidden a secret diary and it was full of embarrassing scribbles that he could tease his sibling with at a later date. The box looked to be very old and was extremely corroded from its years sat in the slightly damp atmosphere under the floorboards. His child-like excitement at finding hidden 'treasure' was stopped short when he saw the contents and after a cursory examination of the contents the first person he called was his mentor, "Um, Joe. It's Steve. Are you free right now?" On hearing the other man's response he sighed with relief, "That's great. Can you come round the house as soon as you can? I'm in the garage, there's something you really need to see. I can't get into it over the phone."

Steve ran back into the house and made his way up to the attic and started looking around the dusty old storage space. There was a good chance that there was an old microfiche reader here somewhere as he remembered his dad 'borrowing' one from HPD, as he had a bad habit of bringing work home with him and liked to be able to review all the evidence in the comfort of his own study. As far as Steve could remember, the machine never made its way back to the department and so it was more than likely gathering dust in a corner of their attic, along with all the other junk that had made its way up there. Steve found what he was looking for and lugged the heavy item back down the loft ladder and took it out to the garage. He examined the microfiche that he had found in the box, carefully moving the reader across each section. He let his head rest back on the shelving behind him and scrunched up his eyes in frustration, "What the hell was wrong with his parents?" This was the second box that he had found now with secrets bad enough to get people killed.

He was still sat in his garage when his mentor arrived, "What's up, Son? You were a bit cryptic on the phone." Steve just pushed the box into this hands and let Joe have a minute to examine the contents and look at the microfiche. When Joe finally looked up Steve couldn't help his outburst,

"She had this in the house all this time. With Dad, me and Mary. They're un-redacted CIA files. Everything about the mission to take out Yao Fat, all the people involved. There looks to be all sorts of other classified intel as well and incriminating evidence on people who are very high-profile now. Like Tyler Cain, our Director of National Intelligence." Joe was shell-shocked the minute he had laid eyes on everything in the box and joined Steve in his condemnation,

"Holy hell. People would kill to get this back, I mean literally kill anyone in their way – like you and Mary when you just kids. I can't believe that Doris would have this in your family home and put you all at risk like that." Steve just shook his head sadly,

"I would, I'm starting to believe that Shelburne would do just about anything." Joe slumped down next to his protégé,

"So what do we do? This information is dangerous." Steve couldn't agree more. He sighed before speaking,

"I'm gonna take it in person to Director Thompson. I believe her when she says she wants to root out all the corruption in her agency. This will give her plenty of ammunition to take some people down." Joe frowned, deep lines appearing on his forehead as he thought of something,

"And if it implicates your mother in anything?"

"Then so be it."

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Three days and one plane journey later found Margaret Thompson and Steve sat in the same booth as before in the upmarket restaurant in DC. She placed her hand onto the box of evidence, "Are you sure you want to do this, Commander. It could have implications for Shelburne?" Steve just nodded,

"The lies, all the secrecy and living in the shadows . . . lockboxes full of highly classified incriminating intel under our floorboards – it's just madness and it has to stop. My line in the sand is drawn right here. Please, Director - take this and do whatever it takes to root them all out. I'm just done."

The wise lady completely understood, the man sat in front of her had been impacted by this since he was 15. His family had been torn apart and he had been forced to listen to his father being murdered over the phone. A dangerous foe had then set out to destroy him. He really didn't need to explain himself any further and she told him that. Steve asked if she would accompany him to Agent Greer's grave to pay their respects. With a nod, she followed him out of the restaurant and suggested a good florist that was on the way to the cemetery. Steve had already called his ex-CIA friend and Tom Hennessy met them at the cemetery and the three of them solemnly placed the fresh flowers into the holders next to the headstone. They took the time to reflect on another life lost in the line of duty and the sacrifices that they were all prepared to make to keep their country safe and free.

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Steve exited the airport to find Danny waiting for him in the no-stopping zone. He smirked, hoping that his partner had managed to annoy the over-zealous parking official, "Let me guess. Kono was tracking me again?"

Danny could only shrug, just being at the airport as Steve's flight arrived was all the evidence the other man needed. He let Steve take the keys to the Camaro, not even putting up a token protest and they drove back to Steve's house. Danny didn't say anything on the ride over, wanting it to be a surprise. He wasn't disappointed, Steve was certainly surprised as all of his ohana popped up from behind the sofa and other assorted furniture as he flicked on the lights,

"Surprise!"

It was only his combat training that stopped him flinching at the loud collective shout and sudden loud bangs and distinctive whistling noises that came from a large number of party poppers going off at once. Steve was bemused as he watched the brightly-colored streamers fly gracefully through the air to drape themselves all over his home and was pretty sure that the one that Grace had popped contained a deadly payload of sparkly glitter. Shit, he would be vacuuming that up for weeks. He then noticed the table piled high with party food and bottles of beer and soft drinks lined up on his sideboard. Steve looked to Danny for an explanation with one raised eyebrow as he crossed his arms across his chest.

The detective obliged, "It's a house-warming party for you, Babe." The other man was confused,

"But I've lived here for nearly a year now?"

Danny begged to differ, "No, not like this. Take a look, we got the renovations finished while you were on the mainland. This is a whole new house and that deserves a fresh start. So, like I said – it's a house-warming party." Steve took a moment to fully appreciate his new-look home and the happy faces of his ohana. He let a genuine warm smile come over his face,

"That it is, my friend. That it is."