After a tormented 10-hour flight, unable to sleep and thinking about all the possible scenarios for Catherine's injuries, Steve disembarks at the Lajes Air Base, in Terceira Island, Azores. From high up in the sky, he can see two large runways, parallel to each other, bordered on one side by houses, which he supposes to be living quarters for the base personnel. Beyond them and right up to the land's edge, green everywhere. It looks like a patch quilt of irregular squares, lush and vibrant, full of life. In the distance, the patchwork continues, high up a hill, only to be replaced, halfway, with dense forest, surrounded by mist and mystery. On the ground, as he explores his surroundings, he realises that the frail separators of the patchwork squares are, in fact, strong, ancient and bulky stone walls, covered in moss, probably built long before he was even born. And quietly and slowly grazing, mimicking the pace of the island, an enormous quantity of Holstein Friesians, with their characteristic black spotted markings. Steve suddenly feels transported back to Hawai'i; apart from the fact that this archipelago of islands lies exactly on the other side of the world from his island home, it also looks remarkably like it. He smiles to himself, wondering if God is throwing him a lifeline of consolation.
Having a few hours to kill, he decides to accept an invitation to dinner. As it happens, he knows one of the pilots, from his time in Navy Intelligence. Before they leave the base, however, he finally decides to make the phone call that he's been hesitating making for the past five hours, ever since the idea came to his mind. Mulling over his situation, he sadly concludes that Catherine did indeed run away from him, in a way. As per Captain Hamilton's words, she could've stayed in Afghanistan, but she had asked to be sent home – without so much as a message, or a text, to him. Steve feels angry and hurt, as he realises that she left without even considering that he would be worried about her, when he found out what had happened. Another thought fleetingly crosses his mind: why hadn't she tried to get a hold of him, before going into Khayfan? Was she so angry at him, because of what had happened the night before, that she had preferred to go alone? Or had she simply been under orders? Most of all, though, he's really scared, because he doesn't know what happened to her. Steve breathes deeply, trying to ward off sad, but familiar feelings of deep loss, and unlocks his phone to dial the number he's been able to obtain from the secretary in the Administration Office. After getting through to who he wanted to talk to, he can now go out to dinner feeling a bit more at ease. At least he now has a plan.
The nearest town, Praia da Vitória, is a beautiful quaint city 10 minutes way, which boasts a dark-coloured, sandy beach peppered with straw beach umbrellas, a marina full of yachts near the waterfront, lined with dark grey and white cobblestoned streets. The buildings look like they came out of a colonial, period novel, all painted white, with bright yellow, or dark stone trim. The evening is mild and pleasant, for winter, and the whole waterfront is illuminated by warm lights, making it look almost like a nativity scene. Steve can spot at least three church turrets nearby, and he again prays, silently, that Catherine is all right.
Three hours later, properly wined and dined on the freshest and most delicious fish he has ever had, Steve is back at the base, getting ready to board the plane that will take him on the next leg of his journey. He thanks the Navy pilot for keeping him company and showing him the sights, and bids him farewell, wondering if they'll ever see each other again. Inside the plane, he settles himself for another six and a half hours of uncomfortable and cramped flying, but soon after takeoff surprisingly falls asleep.
It's already five o'clock in the afternoon when the plane touches down in Washington D.C.. Relieved at finally having arrived, but feeling tired and hurting all over, Steve goes in search of a shower, at the base. The warm water manages to wake him up and relieve him of the pain of sitting for so many hours in the same position, but it doesn't manage to quash the feeling of urgency now gnawing at him. He quickly gets dressed and rushes to the exit, in search of a cab to take him to his next destination. He's unsure of his next move, but has no other choice.
Rollins Sr. Residence
Washington D.C.
1830 hours
Elizabeth Rollins enters her home library and closes the door softly behind her. She reaches the desk and sits in the chair, reclining and breathing deeply, nervous about the phone call she needs to make, cognizant of its importance. She has always loved the idea of Steven McGarrett as a son-in-law – a handsome man of action, honourable, a SEAL and Navy, like her husband. More importantly, he clearly loved her daughter very much and she him, despite the life they led, Catherine always deployed, Steve always on classified, dangerous missions. She never really understood why her daughter had decided to leave Hawai'i when she had, nor the reasons she'd had to make that decision. At the time, Catherine had thrown herself into work and only come home four months after leaving Hawai'i, and when Elizabeth Rollins had tried to pry into her reasons, Catherine had simply told her that she had no wish to discuss her love life at that moment. Elizabeth had respected her request, scared at having left her on the brink of tears, but on subsequent visits had managed to extract small tidbits of information from Catherine and also learned not to ask again. This was clearly a subject too painful for her daughter and, despite being sad at the turn of events, Elizabeth had had to accept her daughter's choice of new job and the dangers that unfortunately went with it. Steven McGarrett, however, had remained a fond memory and vivid hope in her mind, and when he'd called her the day before, asking to see her, she had warmly invited him to come over as soon as he landed. Naturally, Steve had told her nothing of what had happened in Afghanistan; if Catherine had omitted the information, it's because she didn't want her own mother to worry, and she knew very well how to manage her. Steve had told Elizabeth that he was returning to Hawai'i after a few days in New York, where he'd been working on a case, and he had thought of calling in on Catherine, to catch up. After Christmas, he thought her mother wouldn't suspect anything and he had been right. Elizabeth Rollins was more worried about what his visit meant, in terms of her daughter getting back together with the man she knew was right for her, than why exactly Steve was in town.
Turning her phone on, Elizabeth dials Catherine's number. If she answers, that will mean she's home. After a few seconds of a familiar ring, she hears a click and her daughter's tired voice.
"Hi, mom," Catherine greets her, smiling.
"Hi, honey, it's so nice to hear your voice, I missed you. How are you?"
"I'm fine, tired and still sleepy, but fine." Her mother will never be able to understand the level of tiredness Catherine is experiencing right now or even what she went through in the last few days, so she just lets it go. "How's Dad?"
"He's fine, honey, he had a work dinner at the Pentagon. How long have you been home?" Elizabeth asks, slightly hurt that her daughter didn't call her when she got back.
"I got home about 12 hours ago... I was tired and sleep deprived, mom… all I wanted was my bed, my sheets and my pillow," she lies down on her bed, again, understanding her mother's question. "Speaking of which, I was getting ready to go back to them. Can we talk tomorrow? I'll call you when I wake up, promise."
"Did everything go OK on your trip? You know your father and I worry about you, honey…" Elizabeth goes on, undeterred, with that motherly sixth sense they often have. "I hate that job of yours. Whenever you're gone, I am always worried about what might happen."
"Mom, please, not this again! It's the life I chose and I'm OK with it," Catherine counters, sighing. Never has she protested less emphatically.
"Listen to yourself! You're OK with it? You shouldn't be OK with your life, you should be happy, honey!"
Elizabeth Rollins' exclamation makes Catherine cringe, at once again having been masterfully tricked into disclosing how she truly feels.
"I AM happy, mom! Let's just not go there, OK?"
"How am I supposed to not worry about you, Catherine? What happened with Steve, in the end?"
"Huh? Steve?" she stands at attention, dumbfounded, but surprised at her mother's precision. "What does Steve have to do with our conversation?"
"You were with him, recently, right? I had hoped that you two might have…"
But Elizabeth Rollins is quickly interrupted. "Mom, we went after some people who killed his old SEAL Commander. It was just work, OK?"
"But you were with him, in Montana, for over two weeks before you came here. Was there no… spark, nothing?" Elizabeth asks, grasping at straws, holding on to hope. She's no fool, Steve's sitting in her living room for a reason.
"It was nothing like that, he was grieving. Besides, remember I told you, Steve has a girlfriend? Last time I was on the island, which was, like, a year ago, he spoke of her, said everything was going fine. They're probably living together by now," Catherine finishes, lowering the phone to her neck and closing her eyes, a stab of pain reaching her insides and making her sick.
"Sweetheart…" Elizabeth commiserates, having heard the faint change in her daughter's tone of voice.
"Look, mom, I chose to leave Steve and Hawai'i, and join the CIA, so I can't blame anyone for it. That path, that you are thinking of, is now closed to me. Steve is living in Hawai'i, he has a girlfriend, he's probably going to marry her, and they're going to have children and be happy ever after and… I'm happy for him, you know? Happy that at least one of us can have a semblance of a normal life. The life that everyone else around us has, you know? Two and a half kids, minivan, Labrador Retriever and a white picket fence," Catherine says, thinking to herself that she could never conform to that life with anyone else, now, but for her mother, it paints a pretty picture. "Weekends at the beach and holidays on some island paradise. Well, some other paradise, because you already live there. That's what I really wish for him and I hope he gets it. So stop talking about Steve and Hawai'i, stop talking about that life, it's not my life anymore. It's gone, it's not in my future, OK? The more you ask me about him, the harder it is for me. So, please, stop," she pleads, tired and sad.
However, her mother's curiosity is still not satisfied. "Did he ask you about your love life, in return, by any chance?" There will never be another opportunity as good and timely as this one.
Sighing, Catherine gives in. "Fine, I'll play. I guess your questions were inevitable, at some point. I should be surprised it took you this long. To answer your question, you know how that kind of talk goes, 'This is what's happening with me, how about you'? Just so he doesn't sound completely disinterested. I'm sure he just did it out of good breeding, social convention, whatever…"
"Of course…," Elizabeth replies, a knowing smile appearing on her lips. "And what did you tell him?
"I told him I was dating a little bit…" Catherine is past trying to end the conversation, so she just answers her mother, hoping the questions will end soon.
"And… are you?" This is news to her.
"Mom, really? No, but I wasn't going to tell him that."
"Why?"
"Because… he is dating this woman, and he was asking me 'what about you'? I wasn't going to tell him that I hadn't dated since I'd left him! There was no point… he was going to feel sorry for me, I was going to feel pathetic and there was no need to compound the situation even further. It could become embarrassing and awkward. So… I answered vaguely."
"You lied."
"Mom, why this fixation on Steve? Leave the man alone! He's getting on with his life, so am I." Catherine is ready to put this conversation to bed. She's still mad at Steve, so he's the last person she wants occupying her mind, right now.
"Well, sweetheart, I'm just sorry that you two couldn't work out your differences. I really like Steve…"
"That's your problem, I guess," Catherine retorts, without thinking. Then, realising she's been rude to her mother, she concludes. "Mom, I don't want to talk about Steve anymore, OK? I need some sleep. Give my love to dad, I'll speak to you both tomorrow."
"OK, honey, talk to you tomorrow."
Disconnecting the call, Elizabeth Rollins moves from the library to the living room, where Steve is waiting for her. She's happy for the good news she has for him and not one bit sorry for going against her daughter's plead.
"Steve, I've just managed to get Catherine on the phone. Apparently she just got back this morning, and she's home. She sounds very tired, but I am sure she'd love to see you once again."
Steve sighs, not nearly as sure as Elizabeth Rollins, but relieved, nonetheless. If Catherine is home, her injuries can't be anything serious. Elizabeth Rollins moves to the table and scribbles down an address on a piece of paper, handing it to Steve. She smiles at him, a very warm and hopeful smile and says:
"Steve, may I ask, and forgive me for prying," she goes on, conspiratorially, "but are you here in a professional capacity?"
"No, not really, huh…" Steve says, caught off guard. "I was in New York, for a case, and just thought it would be nice to surprise her, that's all." He does manage a smile, however.
"Well, It's been lovely to see you, Steve. I am sure that, if my husband were here, he would be really happy to see you too. God speed, my son. See you soon, I hope", Elizabeth Rollins says, hugging him warmly. She is really not saying those word just for the sake of it.
"Good night, Mrs. Rollins. It's been lovely to see you and again, thank you for the big help. Give Admiral Rollins my regards," Steve says, as he hugs her back. He throws her a warm smile, picks up his overnight bag and heads for the door, closing it softly behind him. Easy part of his plan – done. Now comes the hard bit.