Bitterroot Ranch, Montana

14.12.2018

0725 hours

Catherine's been awake for half an hour, unwilling to get up and face the day, stomach twisted in a knot. Joe's service and cremation is today, and Steve's been getting angrier and more withdrawn as the date approached, even going so far as not yet having called Danny. She knows there isn't much she can do to comfort him, and also how hard it will be to get through the day, for both of them, albeit for slightly different reasons. Steve's suffered so many losses in recent years and Catherine wonders at how many more he'll be able to endure, without it taking a toll on his usually positive outlook on life.

Sighing, she gets up and heads to the kitchen to get a drink of water, leaning against the sink in quiet contemplation for a few minutes more. She heads for the room he chose to sleep in, door ajar, and pushes it open, to reveal a sleeping Steve. Softly calling out to him from the entrance, Catherine waits until he starts stirring, not wanting to scare him as she's not really sure where he keeps his SIG Sauer, these days. While she's standing there, she can't help but think back to other, happier times, when she didn't have to knock on his bedroom door, or call out for him to wake up. The last few days have awoken memories in her that, despite masked by their busy days, have been assaulting her at the most inappropriate times. They have been living together for six days, now, no one else around, and the domesticity they've been sharing has, at times, disturbed her, made her think back to when they were living on O'ahu together, and she was happy. Because Catherine knows that, for a while, she was very happy, living with him. Sickeningly so. And lately, she hasn't managed to throw a bucket of cold water on those recurring thoughts by also remembering why she ultimately decided to leave – is she reassessing her life choices and if so, why now? Ultimately, what's the point?

Banishing those thoughts from her mind, she walks further into the room and slowly kneels on the edge of the mattress, as Steve starts to stir and she's reasonably pleased that he knows it's her. His sleeping position gives away the turmoil he must've been in: arms above his head, one to each side, one leg over the covers, the other foot touching the floor, contorted face turned to one side. Steve finally opens his eyes enough to realise it's her, while Catherine breaks out into a shiver, wrapping her arms around her body and smiling sweetly at him. The nights in Montana are brutally cold, and she's not really a fan of thick, heavy pajamas. Steve retracts his legs from their present position and, lowering his arms, raises the covers, inviting her to join him in the warmth they provide. Catherine hesitates for a second, given his accurate read out of the appropriateness of their sleeping arrangements, a few nights before, masked, to a degree, by the excuse of insomnia. However, the uniqueness of the day makes her throw caution to the wind and give in to his suggestion. She smiles at him, looking him in the eye, sighs and lays down on the mattress, next to his body, allowing Steve to cover her. They lie side by side, not touching, for a few minutes, until Catherine starts to feel awkward about the whole situation. Not wanting him to know as much, she reaches down and holds his hand, in a gesture of support, immediately downgrading any potentially romantic situation to a less emotionally charged one. Thankfully, Steve seems to be in another world and doesn't sense the turmoil going on inside her. Facing him, Catherine props her elbow on the mattress, eyeing him kindly.

"Are you about ready to face the day? It's going to be a long one."

"Not really, but what choice do we have?"

Somehow, being included in his struggle warms Catherine's heart and lessens her own sadness. Steve sighs, closing his eyes, and covers his face with his arm.

"God… I wish it was already tomorrow. I am not looking forward to today at all. I keep thinking about my mother, and how much she'd like to be here. Despite everything, they were really good friends. He protected her always, oftentimes against my express wishes."

"Look, you know the drill. Today's going to be really hard. I wish I could… take away all the pain and suffering you're going through, but I can't. Grieving is our way of knowing that we cared for the ones we lost and it's a process we must all go through. But I'm here for you, whatever you need."

"Thanks, Cath. Your being here really means a lot to me. You have no idea," he says, looking her straight in the eye.

"Nowhere I'd rather be," she counters, thinking back to a talk with Danny, a few years back, that still haunts her to this day, glad he's not listening to her, but comforted by the fact that this time, at least, she can be one hundred percent truthful.

Two hours later, they arrive at the Montana State Veterans Cemetery. The service is brief and painful, it rains from start to finish, everyone wears black and life seems drained of colour. Steve feels cold to his bones as he contemplates life and death and the meaning of it all - again. Catherine stays by his side the entire time. At the end of the service, as per Joe's request, Steve is given his casket flag, properly folded. People flock to Steve's side, some known to him, like Joe's army buddies, others unknown, probably friends from around the area, like the army neighbour. After about one hour of hanging around, trying his best to appear composed, not knowing what to do with his hands, he's had enough. Catherine, who's been discreetly eyeing him, moves to his side and holds his hand, gently signaling that they should move the celebration to the local Irish pub, as Joe would've liked. He accepts the momentary reprise to breathe again, despite the crushing pain and never lets go of her hand until they get there. Another three hours ensue, filled with remembrance of Joe's life and achievements, singing and drinking, and speeches from friends.

Nearer the end of the business day, they head to the crematorium to pick up Joe's ashes. Steve has decided to scatter them near the old Ponderosa pine that Joe had wanted to die next to, but he wants to have a small memorial made to him, on that spot. He hasn't uttered a single word since they left the cemetery; and even there, he had merely thanked the people who had showed up and listened to unknown stories about Joe, smiling sadly. They had managed to afford him some comfort, knowing Joe was so loved and had so many friends in his life, but after a while, even that had become too much. Catherine had let him be; she knew he would talk when he was ready and ask for help when he needed it.

As they reach the house, Steve sits down on the couch, and just remains there, despondent, for some time. He refuses dinner, and Catherine doesn't insist, knowing he needs time to process and reflect in solitude. She turns on the lamp nearer the sofa he's sitting on and retreats to the room she's sleeping in, to continue searching for Greggers Thomsen. She figures it's the best use of her time, right now. However, the day's events have affected her more than she had expected. While Catherine had viewed her job, during the day as a giver of support, she seems to have forgotten that she also loved Joe, and is, therefore, also grieving for him. After about an hour of not being able to concentrate for more than 10 minutes, Catherine gives up and heads to the living room to check on Steve. She finds him in the exact same position, absentmindedly staring into the wall. Sitting down next to him, she reaches for his hand and squeezes it as she leans into him, tears falling down her face. She doesn't dare utter a word, for fear of his brittle walls of control collapsing. The stay like that for another half an hour, none of them knowing what to say to lessen the other's pain.

Suddenly, Steve breaks the silence that has settled between them.

"Did you know Joe was living with a paediatrician in Nairobi? I found a photo in his bag, when I went to retrieve some cotter pins. He looked so happy in it… He had someone to live for, to share his life with, someone who was waiting for him, someone to go back to. Why couldn't he have fought harder? God, I wish it had been me taking that bullet."

"Please, don't say that. You have an entire Ohana that loves you. Many people, who are waiting for you to go back to them," Catherine says, eyes far away, an image of Lynn coming to her mind's eye, thinking back to when she was the one waiting for him to come home. "Speaking of which, have you spoken to Danny, yet?" she says, trying to dismiss the mental image.

"No, not yet. I'll call him soon," he answers.

"Call Danny. It'll help. Really."

"I hear you, Cath. And I will. Thanks," Steve says, genuinely comforted by her concern for him and his relationship with his brother. What he doesn't want to share with her is part of the reason he hasn't called Danny yet. He's thought about calling a few times, but decided against it. Once Danny knows Catherine is there with him, alone, his rant will be epic and Steve's not really in the mood, these days, to hear anyone criticize her, especially since she left everything at the drop of a hat and came immediately, no questions asked, for how long it takes. And because of that, he slightly resents Danny, at the moment, childishly refusing to acknowledge his ever present concern for him.

As they both get up, Steve turns to her and hugs her fiercely, broken, body nestled against hers, seeking friendly comfort, staring into the distance. His warmth comforts her; his scent invades her nostrils and shoots straight to her brain, ingraining itself in her neurons. Annoyed at herself for letting her mind wander there, at this moment of grief, she shakes her head, trying to make the thoughts disappear and hugs him tighter, hoping that he doesn't sense the internal struggle she's going through.