Outside, the rain has started to pour down from the tar-black sky, peppered with grey marshmallow storm clouds, wind howling around him. Steve decides to take cover under the building cornice, uncomfortable with the winter cold seeping into his bones and taking residence there. He's no stranger to these harsh conditions from his time in the Navy and SEALS, but it's been almost 9 years of a Hawai'i-tempered body and the bleak weather is definitely getting to him. It feels… biblically ominous, and images of deluges, flooding rivers and overflowing dams shoot to his mind, making him cringe at the possible associations. He feels totally out of place, here, and is suddenly overcome by an inexplicable sadness when thinking of her in this damp and cold city, realising that it has been her reality for the past 3 years – and that is, when she's safely home, in the States. To him, Catherine comes in two flavours: untouchable, with her Navy uniforms and hair buns (and more recently kickass spy, God knows in which terrorist-infested hellhole) or more-than-girlfriend with shorts, tank tops, sunshine, leis and surf. And he much prefers all mental images associated with the latter. Breaking out of his reverie, Steve wraps his jacket around his torso and looks down the street, tentatively looking for a taxi. He's still debating, in his mind, whether or not he should just let Catherine have a good night's sleep, as from her mother's conversation, it sounds like she needs a rest.
"She's tough", he thinks to himself with a smile, dismissing the thought at last, remembering her annoyance when he doubted she would be able to lift herself out of the spike pit in Kaho'olawe. Steve feels incapable of going to sleep himself, knowing she's a stone's throw from him, and would probably just lie awake all night, mind populated with thoughts of her, eagerly anticipating their talk. He's surprised that none of the thoughts he's been having, regarding her, spurred him into action while they were alone in Montana – apparently he really is a one-track mind, compartmentalized kind of guy. Or slow-moving. At present, his desire to see her overwhelms him like an engine revved up while running still, becoming more and more urgent with each passing moment. He'd been magically waiting for her to come back 'home' of her own accord, for so long, Lynn forgotten, and suddenly that fantasy had shattered into a million pieces. Reality had slowly sunk in, while in Montana, but mainly Afghanistan, leading him to the present course of action, unable to control the thoughts coursing through his mind, of the last 10+ years of having known Catherine, Navy and beyond. Suddenly her job, up to that moment an abstract concept, had become real, and the dangers she was faced with every day had started to jolt his heart every time he thought about it.
Rushing down the stairs, rivulets of rain falling down his very short hair, Steve inwardly curses for never having installed the Uber app on his phone, not willing to go into that, at the present moment. Almost giddy with excitement, he quickens his pace, impatient to find a vehicle that can take him to the address scribbled down on the piece of paper he's fiercely holding on to. A few minutes later, a taxi suddenly appears down the dimly lit road, roof showered with rain, and he moves from the curb to hail it, feeling the rapid beating of his blood pressure reflected in his ears. Handing the piece of paper to the driver, Steve asks him how long the ride will take and leans back in the seat, closing his eyes, mentally preparing for what he wants to say to her. He's a proud man and has no desire to be rejected once again, but he must find out where he stands with her, so he can move his life forward, either way - that has become painfully clear to him. The month spent with her, in Montana, has awoken feelings deep within him and he's sure she was also affected by their close proximity, though she tried to hide them. He genuinely wonders why – does she love her job that much? Well, she did leave because of it. Does she have someone in her life? He doesn't even want to entertain that thought. If he's being honest with himself, he's nervous as hell. He doesn't know how to initiate the conversation with Catherine and has no idea how she is going to react at seeing him here, since he's not even supposed to know where she lives. And she was mad at him, before being sent home from Afghanistan, and he doesn't know why, but figures it's probably his fault. There's also that.
Suddenly, Steve feels the car come to a soft stop and realises he's been engrossed in his thoughts for the entire duration of the trip, rain managing to drown out the sounds coming from the car radio. The driver indicates to him that they have reached their destination, and he pays him promptly, exiting the cab, heart starting to pound loudly again. The rain sluices incessantly from the sky, joined in the dance by lightning, and Steve feels his heart constrict, crying for time lost, sadness overwhelming him. 'How fitting', he thinks, 'that you should be entering this unknown territory on a cold, rainy winter's night, and that you may leave with a broken heart, never to be mended again.' But by now, emboldened by the steps taken so far, Steve feels incapable of remaining in limbo and climbs the stairs, buzzing her apartment, a discharge of adrenaline jolting him.
The pavement has filled with puddles, plinking with the rain, and he sees a couple quickly running past, illuminated by the cone of light from a street lamp, arms around each other's waist trying to run for cover, umbrella open. He wonders if, in a few hours, he may himself be on the way to being one half of the same, or if, on the contrary, she may ask him to leave. He has never felt this much want for a woman in all his life, and the irony of the blatant difference between what he feels right now, for Catherine, and the deepest feelings he ever nurtured for Lynn, at the height of their relationship, doesn't escape his notice. His entire existence has been reduced down to this moment; nothing else matters if he cannot have this woman back in his life, eventually. He has a sense of finality, of doom, as if everything else in his life hinges on the outcome of what he came here to do; he knows, one way or another, his life will change for good, hopefully for the better. Suddenly, a thought comes to his mind, clear as day, making him smile – his life can be divided into two eras: BC and AC. Suddenly, out of the haze currently clouding his hearing, mind populated with random thoughts of her, he hears a small voice, coming through the intercom. Quickly composing himself, despite not recognizing it, at first, he answers with a firm and decisive voice.
"Catherine?"
He is unable to say any more, as the short taxi ride did not allow him time enough to think of what he should open with, so he just dry swallows and hopes she's more curious than mad and decides to let him through. A gasp can be heard.
"Steve?" Two seconds of silence follow. "Is that you?" Incredulous voice. Tired voice. He's probably one of the last people she expected to hear from, at this time of night, in person, outside of her apartment block.
Catherine says nothing more, and instead buzzes him in. Steve quickly opens the door and eagerly climbs the stairs to the third floor, failing to notice that there is an elevator that could easily take him there quicker. Then again, he's got plenty of energy to use up. Reaching his destination floor, he walks down the hall, in a mix of rush and delay, wanting to get to her quickly but also apprehensive at what she'll say and think of his unannounced presence. It's as though now that he's here, he wishes he could delay their encounter just a few minutes more, indefinitely. He's on edge, heart leaping in his chest, unsettled. It's not a feeling he experiences often, so it's leaving him uncomfortable.
Dismissing these thoughts, Steve picks up his pace, looking for that elusive apartment number. When he finally reaches it, the door is closed. He needs to knock, once again and he does so, quietly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, in a vain attempt at calming his now obvious nerves. After a few seconds, Catherine opens the door and looks directly at him, a mix of surprise and annoyance obvious on her face. Not exactly what Steve was waiting for, if he's being honest. She looks tired, but beautiful as always, he thinks, despite the leftovers of an angry bruise on her left forehead, the rest covered up by a large bandage. He wants to ask her about it, but quickly realises that he can't open with a question about the sensitive subject of what happened when he wasn't there. With a serious look on his face, he brushes his right hand across his drenched hair, looking down to the floor and then up at her again, eyes never wavering from hers.
"Hello, Catherine. I heard you'd been injured. I came to see how you were doing. Mind if I come in?" The obvious stab is there, but she doesn't let him bait her.
Catherine simply opens the door wider, waits for him to enter and closes the door behind his back, sighing. He turns around so they are face to face, and she fixes him with an unwavering stare, silent. Steve suddenly hears alarm bells ringing in his head, warning him that she may not be alone, but then thinks back to the conversation with her mother. He tells himself that if that were the case, Elizabeth Rollins would not have advised him to come to her daughter's house at 9 o'clock at night, instead of calling the next day and making an appointment to see her, somewhere in the city. Then again, he thinks, Catherine may very well have someone in her bed, at that moment, and simply not have shared that fact with her mother, but he quickly dismisses that thought, not wanting the pain associated with that possibility to shatter his heart. Her right hand reaches her hip and stays there, and she's obviously waiting for an explanation, but says nothing, face expressionless. Steve eyes her quizzically, knowing full well that she knows why he is here. But he's invading her space, right now, so he needs to be careful how he words his concerns.
"Look, I'm sorry for showing up like this at your door, unannounced and at this hour. How are you feeling?"
"You came all this way to ask me how I'm feeling?" she says, now genuinely surprised.
"Actually, I came all this way to find out if you were still alive," and his sentence has the desired effect. Catherine's eyes dart to his and she blushes in embarrassment. "I was told you'd been injured in Khayfan and sent back to the States that same morning. No one else was willing to give me any other detail on what had happened or how you were. You didn't even send me a text, to let me know you were OK. You ran away, basically," he replies, eyeing her carefully. "I know you were pissed off at me because of what happened the night before, Catherine, but this was life and death. Have you any idea how I felt, at that moment? The thoughts running around in my head in the last… twelve hours?"
"Steve, look," Catherine starts in a half-pleading voice, finally realising what she's done. "We got some intel on Ahmed Zahed and we had to move. You were in with Captain Hamilton, so we decided to go without you. We figured we might lose our chance if we didn't move immediately. And it was a good thing we did, because he was getting ready to run. So now that you have your man, you can go back home." Whispering to herself, she adds, in a plea, "Please, go back home."
"You're crazy if you think that I came all this way to… what? Ask you for a justification on why you decided to move on Zahed?" he says, getting annoyed, raising his arm and pointing away from him. "One thing is the job – and I fully trust you to make the best decisions for the good of the Country, Catherine! But that's not what I'm talking about, here, and you know damn well it's not."
Sighing at being emptied of reason, her own anger forgotten, Catherine tries to placate him. "Steve, I was ordered back to the States that morning…. I had no choice, but to come." She knows, however, that her explanation doesn't invalidate a quick, ten second text that she should've sent him, but didn't. At the time, her anger had spoken louder, but she now realises that she was not only childish, but also mean. And he doesn't let it pass.
"Orders, right," he huffs, sarcastically. Then, looking her straight in the eye, he goes on. "Captain Hamilton told me you asked to be sent home, even though you could've been treated at the base, Catherine! So you were alert, you could've remembered to ask Morrison to let me know what had happened. Or left me a note! Sent me a text? You haven't lost my number, have you?" He knows he's being sarcastic, but he has finally seen for himself that she is apparently OK, so his relief is translated into a succession of angry questions and reproaches.
"Sorry", she says, looking down, not offering any more excuses. He knows she's deflecting, but lets it go, anger quickly fading.
"Are you alone?" he finally asks, remembering what he came here to do. He needs to move the conversation in the other direction.
Eyeing him up and down suspiciously, she asks, starting to feel a slight panic. "Is something the matter? Did something else happen?"
Steve is quick to dismiss thoughts of any fallback from the op. "No, no, sorry for alarming you, nothing happened, relax. We questioned Zahed and he's being brought back to Hawai'i, where he'll face charges, but Al-Nazri is still in the wind, unfortunately. The Navy and the CIA both feel that it'll take him some time to resurface again, so there was no point in me staying. I'm headed back home." Then, he asks again.
"Are you alone?" Before she can answer, he hears voices and the clatter of cutlery that he'd been deaf to, before.
"No, Steve, I have some friends over for dinner," she replies, a laugh mixed with an exhaling breath of relief, still unable to fully relax at his assurance. "Why are you here, then? More to the point, how are you here? How did you know where I... oh, wait. My mother. Right."
Catherine slowly moves away from Steve, hissing slightly in pain at the movement, sardonic smile in place and closes her eyes, trying to keep her anger under check. Her mother! Not only had she put her in her present situation, awkward at best, but she had also grilled her about her love life for over half an hour on the phone. Now, she understood why. Clouded by her rising rage, she starts to slowly pace the corridor, breathing in deeply. Suddenly, Steve touches her arm and looks pointedly at her, breaking her out of her daze.
"Cath, please, don't be mad at her. I called her yesterday, from a base literally in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and told her I needed to see you."
"Just like that, huh?" She's not surprised that her mother likes this man so much. So does she.
"No, not just like that," Steve says, smiling, understanding her reaction completely. "I made sure not to tell her anything that happened and where it happened, relax. Told her I was in New York, for work, and would really love to catch up. You know she really likes me," he says, smug, but playful.
"Right... perfect!" she replies, not amused in the slightest, brows rising and her bruise getting angrier.
"Come on, Cath, it's not as if I don't have a high security clearance... according to the US Navy, I can be trusted," Steve says, trying to lighten the mood.
"To know where I live? I should expect not! You're Navy, this is the CIA!" Catherine replies, visibly annoyed. "Besides, why not call me?"
"Like I said, I wanted to see you. Make sure you were all right. I wasn't even sure you'd answer my call! Why are you so angry, anyway? Is it at my knowing where you live, or at my being here? Right in front of you?"
The question takes Catherine by surprise, and she gasps at how accurate his assessment is, realising that she is indeed shaken by his presence. She just hopes that 'checking in on her' was his only reason for coming over, tonight. Suddenly, Catherine remembers that she has friends sitting down at her dinner table and turns to Steve, matter-of-factly:
"Don't be silly, Steve! Look, just go drop your bag inside and I'll introduce you to my friends. We can talk later," she says, dismissing him and turning towards the living room, walking slowly and alternating her weight on each foot, as though in pain.
"How many stitches?" he asks, with a sad voice.
Catherine freezes in place, taking a second to compose herself. The last thing she wants is to appear weak or feeble to this man.
"What, this?" she asks, turning around and pointing to her forehead. "It's just a bruise, nothing much," she hopes to put the matter to rest, smiling at him and dismissing his worry with a flick of the hand.
"Cath…" Steve fixates his eyes on her, never wavering.
"Five," she finally lets up, defeated, looking down at the floor. "I should've known I can't get anything past you."
"And the hip?" he asks, voice level, no hint of smugness or annoyance.
"What do you mean?" Catherine asks, raising her eyebrows, hoping she can pretend her way out of having to catalogue her latest injuries to him.
"I mean… what about the hip? Cuts, gashes, bruises, bullet holes, stiches?" he says, breathing out slowly, thinking back to Montana with a smile, praying she doesn't try to be strong for his viewing pleasure.
"How did you…?" Catherine says, genuinely surprised, pushing her head forward and hunching her eyebrows at him.
"I know you, remember? I know how you walk, move, breathe, talk… and I can tell something is definitely not right with you. So, I'll ask again: how many stitches?"
"No stiches," she says plainly, happy to be able to be truthful. "We ran into some enemy fire that morning, and things got slightly out of hand. I was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, that's all…"
While she talks, Steve closes his eyes and breathes deeply, not wanting to look at her while he imagines how that op could've gone sideways and she might not even be here in front of him, right now, to enumerate stitches.
"Anything else?" he asks, almost not letting her finish her account, finally looking back at her, starting to feel annoyed.
"It's part of the job, Steve. I'm fine. I'm home, now, so I'll have time to recover."
"Any more stitches?" he asks again, ignoring her.
"No, no more stitches. Just got thrown around a bit and my left hip is a bit bruised, that's all," Catherine replies lightly, trying to not make it into a big issue, for his sake. She knows he can't help but worry, after all they're friends. She's just not sure what kind, at this point. Turning away from him again, she repeats her invitation:
"Come on, just go freshen up and come into the dining room. I'll introduce you."
"OK, thanks," he says, deciding to let it go, for now and smiling at her back, thankful that he'll at least have a chance to explain himself as to the reasons that brought him here tonight.
After dropping off his overnight bag and wet coat in the first room he can find off the main corridor, Steve dries his hair and retraces his steps, following the noises he can hear coming from the dining room. The warmth in her apartment and the dimly lit corridor and entrance hall are in stark contrast to the cold, dark street below, appealing to his senses and he starts to feel less like a defrosting icicle and more like a consoled, albeit tired traveler who's reached shelter. The flat is typical Catherine: comfortable, modern and with an edge of something he can't quite define. He immediately feels at home.
There are five people sitting at the table; a woman Catherine's age, another, older woman, a man his age, a man probably 5 years younger and an older man. They are all talking animatedly, laughing and very relaxed, but Steve's arrival silences them. Coming from the kitchen with a place setting in her hands, Catherine turns to the assembly, while busying herself with laying the plate down and setting the cutlery, motioning for him to sit down.
"Everyone, this is Steve. We go way back, from my Navy days. Steve, this is Melissa," she says, pointing to the woman her age, sitting to her left. "And this is her friend, Dave," she says, motioning to her right, to the guy his age. "These are Marc and Johanna," she motions to the older couple sitting next to Dave, "and this is Brian," she says, smiling at the younger guy sitting next to Melissa. While everyone greets Steve with a "hi", or "hello", Brian extends his hand to Steve with a sultry "why, hello, handsome" and a sunny smile, eliciting a laugh from everyone at the table. Steve really doesn't know how to react, but extends his hand to Brian, briefly, while smiling at the others, sitting down to eat at the place left vacant by Melissa, who moves to Brian's place, after he moved left as well. The flow of conversation is somewhat resumed, but curiosity has piqued Melissa's attention, and she goes in for the kill. Throwing Catherine a naughty smile, she turns to Steve.
"So, Mr. Navy man, how do you know our girl? Pray, do tell," she says smiling, looking between the two, clearly amused at Catherine's rushed and nervous demeanor, busy with such mundane things as setting cutlery down on the table and averting her gaze.
"We met when we were in the Navy. We served together," Steve answers, trying to detract attention from himself all the while sharing as little as he can, hoping his explanation will be enough. But Melissa is undeterred.
"Oh, I'm going to need details," she says, laughing at his embarrassment.
"We worked together for Navy Intelligence, we became friends then. We've been friends ever since," Steve replies, eyeing Catherine firmly and seriously, letting her know he noticed her description of their relationship sorely lacking in accuracy. She looks at him and smiles warmly, confirming his description.
"Oh, we are going to want to know many embarrassing and funny stories about our Kit Cat, here," Brian interjects, getting up and coming towards Catherine, hugging her and laughing openly. "She never shares any details of her previous life, and this is as good an opportunity as we'll ever get," he finishes, looking pointedly at Steve.
Everyone breaks into laughter at Brian's antics and they decide to give the newcomer a break, not noticing the fleeting look of sadness that crosses Steve's face at the "previous life" reference. Conversation breaks into smaller groups as everyone eats and it falls on Melissa to keep talking to Steve, while Catherine's attention is diverted to Dave. Steve senses that they haven't known each other long, and that this guy is very interested in Catherine. He smiles at her, smirks and lightly touches her arm while telling her about his job, something to do with travel. Melissa is also trying to engage Steve in conversation and he answers her with as much politeness as he can muster, all the while trying to listen in on Catherine's conversation. Suddenly, Dave says something that catches Brian's attention and he addresses him, slight amusement in his voice.
"What do you mean, Dave, you're a pacifist?"
"I mean I don't believe that the way to achieve peace is through war, that's all," Dave replies, throwing a smug smile Catherine's way.
"So how do we do it?" Brian says, clearly amused at the hole Melissa's friend is digging for himself. They all serve, one way or another, so Dave's sentence is almost offensive for him.
"Diplomacy, understanding the other side's position, trying to reach a middle ground, a consensus…" Dave replies, now serious. "Going to war to achieve peace is…. It's crazy. And in between, many innocent lives are lost."
"And meanwhile… while we can't get the other side to understand us, our point of view… while you have fanatics and fundamentalists unwilling to listen to reason… You what? Let your own people die at their hands?" Steve says, very serious, quieting everyone's conversations. Suddenly, the light tone of the exchange of opinions turns heavy as Steve's piercing glance falls on Dave, while he awaits an answer. The thirteen dead, in Hawai'i, come to his mind.
"That's not what I meant," Dave says, clearly uneasy, looking at Steve, trying to lessen the impact of his sentence. "I just meant that war is never the answer."
"Well, you know, that is a lovely sentence to print on a t-shirt, and we can all try to ride our unicorns to work – doesn't mean we'll be able to. Of course it's a huge shame that people have to go to war, but many times, it's the only way to protect those same innocent souls you mention," Steve finishes, shrugging his right shoulder and raising his eyebrows, conveying that he's not being confrontational.
Brian can tell that Dave has been properly made ashamed of, with his stupid platitudes, and decides to throw him a bone, after glancing at Catherine and realising she's no longer happy at the direction the conversation is headed. He asks Dave to tell the assembled company about his job and the most interesting countries he's ever visited, smiling wickedly at Catherine, who smiles back at him with a shake of the head.
"Well, I propose a toast to our girl," Brian says, raising his glass. "May she stay home long, may she recover quickly, and we all love you, Kit Cat."
They all raise their glasses, toasting to Brian's words, and Steve can't help notice that Catherine does not drink after raising her glass. Knowing her not to be a teetotaler, he realises she's probably still on antibiotics for her stitches. He wonders if the case wasn't more serious that she let on. He'll have to investigate further, later.
"Thank you all, you're all very kind. Thanks also for showing up unannounced at my door tonight, when I was getting ready to… get a Catnap, appropriately," Catherine says, laughing. "Anyway, I had made a date with my pillow, my comforter and my TV, but I much prefer ditching them in favour of being with you guys…" she says, smiling.
Melissa throws her a kiss and says, playfully:
"Well, this is all Brian's fault. He doesn't really like Morpheus …"
"Of course, it's all Brian's fault. Just because he doesn't sleep, it doesn't mean I don't need to," Catherine says, smiling at her friends, engaging in their usual banter.
Everyone laughs at her, and suddenly Catherine's eyes land on Steve's slightly surprised look. She smiles at him and gets up to take her wine-filled glass into the kitchen. Her emotions are overwhelming her, unable to cope with Steve's sudden presence in this part of her world. It isn't enough that Melissa brought her friend, Dave, to dinner, she thinks, but it had to be on the same night that Steve decides to show up, unannounced, out of nowhere. Her emotions are raw, right now and she needs to get a grip, or else everyone will know something is up. Especially Steve, and she does not want that.
Melissa follows her into the kitchen, roasting dish in hand, and eyes her cautiously, sensing that something is up with her friend, sure that it has something to do with the handsome stranger sitting next to her at the table. Catherine is leaning heavily against the counter, breathing deeply, eyes closed, oblivious to the other presence in her kitchen. Melissa decides to lighten the mood with a little humor, determined to extract any and all information from her friend, not noticing that Steve has followed her into the corridor and is moving towards the kitchen, behind her.
"Who is that hot piece of man candy you've got sitting next to me at the table, girl? Where have you been hiding him?" she says, smiling, walking past Catherine, who suddenly opens her eyes, startled, but thankful for the interruption to her dangerous thoughts.
"Down, girl, don't get excited, he's taken," Catherine laughs at her friend. "Remember I told you about a guy I used to date, lives in Hawai'i, met him when I was in the Navy?" she says nonchalantly, trying not to elaborate too much. Thinking about her past life, that by now feels so remote, still gives her pangs of heartache that she prefers not to remember. While listening to her, Steve can't help but feel small at her résumé of their life together, at how easily she summed up their relationship of so many years.
"Wasn't that the one who died?" Melissa asks, eyes wide, uncomprehending.
"No, that was Billy. He wasn't from Hawai'i. Steve is."
"Well? You never told me about him. I wonder why..." Listening to her, Steve also wonders why and he feels slightly offended by that realization. Had he been so easily discarded, that Catherine had erased him from her memories as soon as she had left?
"Nothing to tell," She says, shrugging. "We used to date, we don't, anymore. It was before your time…"
"Oh, girlfriend, don't imagine, for a moment, that you're going to get away with that reply, after what I saw in there. I want details. Many, many details. Juicy details," she says, naughty smile in place.
"No, no details, please," Catherine says, laughing, hand in the air and mock-pleading, "that part of my life is in the past, so I really don't want to go there. We're just friends."
"In the past? Are you sure? Because that gorgeous, charming, 'Captain America' guy sitting at your dinner table clearly still has feelings for you," she goes on, eyebrows knitted, thumb pointed outwards. "The way he's been looking at you, all night… it's like he wants to clear the table with a sweep of the hand and lay you down on it, without even making sure we're gone. Not to mention the murderous looks he's been sending Dave's way and how much he's ignored me all night," Melissa says, serious. "By the way, I totally forgive him for stuffing it to Dave, he can be such a jerk, sometimes…"
"And this is the friend you wanted me to meet?" Catherine, says, laughing good naturedly. This knowledge makes Steve's heart skip a beat, not wanting to contemplate the implications of her statement. He's also impressed by how incisive Melissa is and embarrassed at how obvious he apparently was. He has no game.
"He's a nice guy, a really nice guy. But if he feels threatened… he obviously will try to clumsily retaliate," Melissa laughs at the thought.
"Threatened? By whom?" Catherine asks, genuinely surprised at her friend's assertion.
"Jesse Ventura over there?" she motions in the direction of the living room, again with her thumb, clearly amused.
"You're imagining things, Melissa. We're just friends. And even that was not a given, for a long time after I left. Let's just leave it at that," Catherine finishes, by now almost sure that what happened in Afghanistan was a figment of her own imagination.
"Fine, I'll pretend I am leaving it at that. But we will revisit this conversation later, you're not getting off that easy," Melissa says, laughing at Catherine's embarrassed look.
"Nothing to talk about, my friend," Catherine dismisses her, wondering if she'll be able to dismiss Steve as easily as she's trying to dismiss her friend.
"You keep telling yourself that," Melissa says, laughing.
Suddenly, Brian's slightly inebriated, loud voice can be heard from the living room.
"Hey, girls, where u at? We're feeling very loooonely in here…!"
Startled, Steve turns back and returns to the living room, not wanting Catherine to realise that he has heard the girls' conversation. He is deep in thought as he sits back down, throwing the assembled company a quick smile while trying to reign in his feelings and thoughts.
"We'll be right out! Let me just heat up the sauce for the dessert," Catherine says, turning to Melissa, smiling. Brian's impatience is legendary. Melissa quickly gets back to the conversation at hand.
"So… what did you mean by 'he's taken?'" She presses on, curious.
"He has a girlfriend…? They started dating a few months after I left," Catherine says, sad, her mind wandering back to that fateful day, on Steve's porch. She can still remember what she was wearing, the feel of the sun burning her skin, the smell of his cologne as he hugged her, the sting of the tears falling down her cheeks as the car moved away. It was definitely the hardest thing she's ever done in her life.
"Why did you leave?" Melissa asks, now serious, aware of Catherine's change of demeanor. "Did you… stop loving him? Did he do something that made you want to leave?"
"Stop loving him?" Catherine suddenly looks directly at Melissa, huffing ironically. "That would be an impossibility. I will always love that man, one way or another…" Catherine lowers her voice, pensive, feeling a rush of adrenaline flood her system at knowing that the man she's talking about is not thousands of miles away in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, but across the hall and she doesn't know what he's doing here. She closes her eyes, trying to regain her bearings and makes a decision. "Look, M, I really can't go into that right now, OK? Everyone is expecting us back and I can't be dredging all this up again with Steve so close. It will throw me off balance, do you understand? I'm pretty shook up as it is…" Catherine says, hands shaking, eyes on the brink of tears.
"C, I've never seen you so emotional! Are you OK? I'm sorry I brought it up… it's just that I'm actually surprised, since I've never really seen you interested in a guy… wow, now I get it," Melissa says, looking at Catherine and feeling sorry for her friend. She is just getting a glimpse of the whirlwind of emotions that Catherine is trying to process and realises that this story not only has plenty to tell, but is also far from over.
Suddenly, Melissa makes a decision and grabs a disoriented Catherine by the arm, pulling her out of the kitchen and into the corridor, in the direction of her room. She yells a very carefree "Bri, we'll be right back! Sauce is in the microwave!" and pushes her friend into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Catherine is surprised by her friend's action but lets herself be driven, overwhelmed by the memories flooding her. She sits down on the bed and lowers her head, closing her eyes, breathing deeply. Melissa gives her a few seconds to compose herself and decides to wait for more details, as she can tell that Catherine is struggling. She sits down next to her friend on the bed and grabs her hand, in a show of support.
"Steve showing up at my door, tonight, was the last thing I ever expected to happen. He called me to come help with an op, that's where I went last month. A very good friend of ours was killed, like a second father, to him. We were together on his ranch, in Montana, for almost a month, then we went to Laos and China. He was grieving, but there were moments, you know… moments when I wondered why I had decided to leave the way I did, when I remembered why I loved him so much, because he is so easy to love… and so hard, at the same time," Catherine says, smiling at the reminiscence. "When I went to Afghanistan, last week, he was there, for a retrieval mission, and the Navy asked for our help, so we ended up working together again. And now I am back here, hoping he leaves soon. Back to his island, to his job, to his Ohana, to his girlfriend."
With a contrite face, Melissa goes on. "Sorry for telling you this, my friend, but I think his reason is obvious, especially since you two were together a week ago. Why else would he be here?"
Catherine lowers her head again, wincing. "Well, I did disappear from the base without so much as a text. Apparently, no one told him what had happened to me, so he came over to make sure I was still alive. His words."
"Ouch! You did what? Left him wondering if you were even still alive?"
"I was angry at him."
"Why? Seems to me he is the one with a reason to be angry. You're friends, after all, right? It's only natural he should worry…"
"He came to my room, the night before, and tried to kiss me. I just sat there, stupefied, wondering how such a decent guy could do that."
"What? Try to kiss you? Oh, the fiend! How could he?" Melissa satirizes, laughing, trying to lighten the mood of the conversation.
"Would you like to be kissed by a guy you know has a girlfriend? Whom he's living with?"
Melissa eyes Catherine seriously, thinking. "How do you know he's still with her?"
Catherine sighs again, feeling her insides hurt. "I just know, OK?"
"How? Maybe they broke up."
"Look, M, I haven't spoken to anyone of this, not even my own mother, who grilled me about Steve this afternoon…," Catherine confesses, looking pleadingly at Melissa. "But when I was in Montana, and two days before we went over to Laos, to complete the assignment, his best friend showed up."
"Go on…" Melissa hesitatingly encourages her friend, sensing she won't like the next few sentences to come out of her mouth.
"I've known him almost from the first day he set foot on the island. We worked together at 5-0. We were really good friends. But one day, after I had been away for a year, trying to find that little boy whose family saved me from the Taliban…"
"I remember the story, go on…."
"Well, I went back to Hawai'i, for a friend's wedding, fellow 5-0. And Danny – that's the guy's name, by the way – called and asked to meet me, without Steve knowing. He basically told me that Steve was a much happier person when I was around, and asked me not to leave, again."
"And you did, so I assume you told him so?"
"No, I was evasive. Very," Catherine cringes again, looking at her friend. "I told him there was nothing I wanted more. And the days went by, and Steve never found time to sit down and talk to me. And one afternoon, the call came. I was in an impossible situation, but I had committed to the CIA. So I left."
"Come on, Catherine! It's your life, you owe him nothing."
"He doesn't seem to think so. We didn't see each other for another 2 years after that, so when he showed up in Montana, I really didn't know what to expect."
"And…?" Melissa is on tenterhooks.
"It was as bad as I had expected," Catherine says, closing her eyes, remembering. "He wasn't at all happy to see me. Gave me the cold shoulder, almost ignored me and blamed me for Steve wanting to go out to Laos. He mentioned the talk we had, so I know he was still angry at that, too, but merely from a perspective of 'the liar'. Then he told me, flat out, that he really wished I hadn't come to help. He said that, after a long time, Steve had finally managed to pull himself back together and that he was happy, these days, with his job, his Ohana, and his girlfriend. Told me they were living together and that he hoped Steve would propose, soon, so there was no room for me, in his life. Not even as a friend."
Melissa sits down on the bed, mouth agape. All she can utter is a surprised "Wow," contemplating what Catherine has just told her. "So… he… but…"
"Yeah, leaves you wondering, right? What the hell is he doing here?"
"C, come on. You guys are clearly friends, no matter what this Danny character says…" Melissa is trying to rewrite the narrative in her head, given what she just witnessed, since Steve's arrival. "Though I have to say, that's not the vibe I'm getting, from him…"
"Regardless… he knows, Steve knows that I would never put myself between a couple. It's not my style. Besides, there were reasons for our breakup, reasons why I left in the first place."
"And if he wasn't dating her anymore? What then? People break up all the time, you know…"
"If 'ifs' and 'buts', Melissa… They've been together for three years, now, and Steve is not the type of guy to make rash decisions. They're still together, I'm sure. So this conversation is pointless."
"Catherine... are you actually convinced that they're still together, or are you actually hoping it? Because the way you keep telling me that he's still with her, almost sounds like you want it to be so... what for? So you don't fall into temptation? Because that would open up a new world of possibilities that you have denied yourself for over 2 years? Or because that would mean you having to make a difficult decision regarding your job?"
"No, that's not what's happened here. The decision to leave was mine."
"Why? You clearly loved him a lot…"
"He never made time for us, his job was all consuming. 'Job first, everything else, second'. Not what a girl wants to feel, right? He's an Alpha Male, SEAL, Navy Intelligence, but he never once told me he loved me to my face. Not once." At this, Melissa shows her surprise again. "We never talked about the future, not even after I resigned my commission with the Navy and moved in with him. You know, Military mentality, I guess we took the 'don't ask, don't tell' to a whole new level. I felt lost after Billy died, without direction and no one could help me make sense of what was to come. When I decided I had to go rescue Najib, he came with me. He was almost killed, my fault, and was shipped back to the States," Catherine says, hands shaking. Melissa holds them, giving her strength to continue. "I was persuaded by the CIA to save his six, if you get my meaning," she says, making air quotes. "They recruited me then. I was under strict orders not to tell him, so I stayed behind. A year later, when I returned, he was still single, waiting for me. He thought I was back, I knew I had to leave again. He told me he couldn't wait for me anymore, if I left. I did. He was angry at me for a long, long time, he's got issues. Trust issues. Mommy issues. Commitment issues. And I hurt him. Bad. Next time I went back, to help save his mother's life, he actually introduced me to the girlfriend. I'll never forget the angry look on his face, never expected it to hurt so much. I pretended I was fine, but you can imagine how I felt…"
"My God, so you both hurt each other…"
"And from that moment on, my job was all I had left. He was gone. In my mind, they were good for each other, I really wished them the best, because he's a very good man and he deserves to be happy. So what was left, for me? Work. I threw myself at it with all my strength. And here we are," Catherine finishes, physically drained from the short summary of her love life of the past 10 years.
"Catherine, when I met you, I couldn't understand why you were so driven in your job and kept refusing to even look at men. Now, I understand why. You feel guilty for leaving, but you also still love the man you left behind, who is now living with someone else. You're in an impossible position, suffering for love. And the best policy is to ignore the ache and keep going, as though that part of your life is closed for business. But guess what - it just popped up in Technicolor, at your door, and you'll have to deal with it soon. Very soon. As soon as we all leave, soon. I can't shake the feeling that he's not here merely to make sure you're still in one piece."
Getting up, impatient, Catherine turns away from her friend. "Stop it, Melissa, please, you're making me even more nervous. I don't want to dwell on it, we're just friends, now. We managed to carve this friendship out of the rubble of our past relationship, and it took time, let me tell you. He's happy, now, with his girlfriend and his Ohana, who must love her to death, because they sure as hell don't like me. So all's well, as it should be," she finishes, bitter tone to her words.
"You keep telling yourself that. But I'm telling you - that man, sitting at your table, in your living room, is here for a lot more than a simple 'hello, how are you doing, let's catch up?' Otherwise, why would he have come knocking on your door, alone, this late, no advance warning?", Melissa says, lowering her voice and getting serious. "If he's as honourable as you say, something else must be going on. And he can't be that angry, if he called you, of all people, to come help him avenge your friend's death. Don't you get it? It's obvious he's here for you. And if he came all the way from Afghanistan, it must be something important."
Catherine mulls over her friend's words, deep in thought. "Anyway, let me just navigate this dinner, find out what he's here for and be done with it. My head's spinning and I have a feeling it has a lot to do with my sleep deprivation mixed in with my pain meds," Catherine replies, getting up and throwing Melissa a pleading look.
"Oh, girl, I hear you, but the heart wants what the heart wants, you know?" Melissa says, feeling sorry for her friend. "And I'll tell you what, I really hope that's what he's doing here. You, my friend, deserve to be happy. You're the best person I have ever known and I really hope the two of you can sort out your issues. So I can finally see what my very good friend Catherine looks like when she's genuinely happy."
"Melissa, I live here, now, and I have a job that I really love. There's no question of us getting back together."
"Oh, sure, given a choice between living in paradise with a man you love to death - and working there - and living alone, going on black cover ops to flush out terrorists... yeah, really, there's a lot to think about! You just don't want to allow yourself to dream of a life with him!" Melissa says, irony plastered across her face.
"There is no 'life with him'. There is no dream. I hurt him. Bad. I broke his trust. Regardless of my reasons. With Steve, you don't come back from that. I wouldn't know how to. That shadow would always be there, between us. And it's not just that. He doesn't trust me, so building a life with someone on those terms... unthinkable," Catherine sadly shakes her head. "Besides, I've been in this situation before – living with him and not knowing what to do for work. It was horrible, let me tell you. I need a challenging job to feel needed, useful. Without it, I become a nothingness and am not fun to be around."
"Love conquers all, my friend… even stubborn, non-communicative Navy SEALs, you know? I'll bet you'd rethink your decision if he told you he loves you and you're the only woman he wants in his life, huh? Regarding what you do, now … it's a very dangerous job, which you've been doing very well, for the longest time. It's high time you let someone else do it and go find your happiness, however sad that would make me. Don't tell me there isn't a job in the whole of Hawai'i that you could do? Come on… You deserve it, think about what I'm telling you. Hear him out. Please."
With her plead, Melissa heads for the door and exits the room, leaving Catherine inside, digesting her last words. A few seconds later, they both sit back down at the table, Catherine hardly managing to stifle a yawn. She apologises and smiles, feeling tired to the bone, glad she can use it as an excuse for the time they were away. Brian wraps his arm around her shoulders, eyeing Steve with a quizzical, but amused look.
"Hey," he says, smiling at her, "you look really tired. Maybe we should go and let you sleep – after we've finished our dessert, that is."
"Funny... I told you, Bri, when you showed up, it's a miracle I'm still standing," she replies, smiling wide, knowing that her friends will not take it the wrong way.
"Come on, Kit Cat, we haven't seen you in almost 2 months! You were away, doing God knows what secret mission for a month, then you came home only to leave again on an op…. we missed you!" Brian replies, with a whiney voice, amused.
"Yes, Bri, but I've slept, like, 6 hours in three whole days." At her admission, Steve raises his eyes to her, remembering. "I'm dead to the world, I can hardly keep my eyes open. I'm not even listening to what you're saying anymore," she continues, amused, dismissing him with her hand.
"Yeah, yeah, we all get the hint." He lowers his voice, down to a conspiratorial tone. "You want to be left alone with James Bond, over there," he whispers in her ear, winking, clearly amused at her nervousness, unaware of their history. "Poor Dave, never stood a chance. Such bad timing…" he tsks, smiling openly. "I'm going to want to know the whole story tomorrow, you hear?"