Half an hour later, all her invited guests get up to say goodbye and put on their coats to leave. Dave thanks her for her hospitality and asks if she'd like to meet up for coffee soon. Catherine politely thanks him for his presence and agrees, smiling lightly, without giving his invitation much thought, mind occupied on other matters. Next up is Melissa, and as she hugs Catherine, she whispers in her ear: "I hope and pray that you won't get any sleep tonight. Any at all. And that that Greek God sweeps you off your feet and reminds you of what it feels like to be loved. And sexed up, too, of course. You clearly need it. And I'm pretty sure that male specimen out there never disappoints. Bye!" And she laughs openly, not waiting for her friend's reaction before heading out the door. Catherine dismisses Melissa with an amused shake of the head, happy that no one else heard her. After bidding the others goodbye, she heads for the dining room and finds Steve clearing the table. She eyes him with a smile and throws him a look of disbelief.

"Steve, you don't have to do that. Just leave it, I'll clean up tomorrow."

"You know I would never, Cath. It's no trouble at all," he says, smiling reassuringly at her, picking up a few items from the table.

Catherine's phone suddenly rings. She looks at it with an amused look and picks it up from the dinner table, not before Steve manages to take a peek at the caller ID, curiosity piqued. The caller display reads 'Mark W'. 'This should be interesting', he thinks, another pang of jealousy attacking him. Catherine answers the call with a warm voice, excusing herself to the hallway, but stays within Steve's earshot. Feeling very curious about her life and friends, now, he walks past her into the kitchen and drops the dishes in the sink, half-heartedly trying not to listen in on the conversation. He wonders if it is work-related or of another nature, which he prefers not to think about, as he turns off the kitchen lights and quickly returns to the living room, to wait for her to finish the call.

"Hey, Mark. (…)

"No, I just got back. (…)

"I'm fine, just a few stitches and a bruise. (…)

"Yes, they checked me out as soon as I got back. (…)

"You know, the usual… painkillers and antibiotics for 7 days. (…)

"Yeah, I have a few days off, thank God. I feel like I've been run over by a truck, I haven't slept much in recent days, and some friends showed up at my place tonight, so I am dead. (…)

"They just left. (…)

"No, Mark, you're not coming over, I'm asleep already (she chuckles). (…)

"If you show up, I know I won't get to bed until much later and I need to sleep. Desperately. (…)

"Yes, I am going to bed, I'm not even thinking straight anymore (she giggles). (…)

"No, Mark, alone. Very alone. I'm so tired, right now, I'd sleep straight through an earthquake, believe me. (…)

"You're too much, you know that? Go find a coed to snuggle up with, please, and stop talking silly. (…)

"Speak to you tomorrow. (…)

"Bye, sweet chops. Sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite. (…)

"Bye. Love you"

Listening to her, Steve senses that Catherine's voice sounds different, mellower. Sweeter. Like the voice she used to reserve for him, when they were together. That thought makes him sick and sad at the same time, as he comes to another realisation: she has carved a life for herself, away from Hawai'i and, most importantly, from him, with friends and the semblance of an Ohana. He's suddenly afraid that what he feels for her will now never be enough to get her to go back to a life with him, and the look on his face turns bitter. Catherine disconnects the call and enters the living room, addressing her uninvited guest.

"Look, Steve, it's really late and you brought a bag, so you're clearly here for the night. Stay. Guest room is on the right. We can talk tomorrow."

Catherine is not sure how to act around Steve, now that they've been left alone. Suddenly, Montana and the familiarity that they struck up – again, after so long – is gone. It's as though they were artificially protected by a cloak of tragedy, compelling them into 'easy mission mode', without room for any other thoughts or feelings, and now that that is apparently gone, the deeper issues that they never addressed, by an unspoken mutual decision, are starting to rear their ugly heads, leaving her uncomfortable. Melissa's words are also echoing in her mind, making her feel embarrassed at the prospect that they may be true, not even able to admit that possibility. Right now, she's no longer tired or sleepy, just beginning to get really nervous. She wonders how she's going to navigate Steve's presence in her flat, and his reason for coming, and she needs to be alone to make sense of her feelings and what she wants, but most importantly, doesn't want, to tell him. To top it all off, Madama Butterfly suddenly comes up, on the airwaves. How fitting.

"Are you sure Dave won't mind? He was really looking back, to make sure I left, too," he says, trying to sound nonchalant, but surprised at the tone of jealousy clearly evident in his voice.

"What? I've only just met the guy, why would he… Anyway, why did you feel the need to be confrontational, huh?" she throws at him, annoyed at what he's implying.

"Confrontational? I wasn't about to let him talk shit like that and keep quiet! Besides, I think I did a pretty good job of controlling myself, after all, this is not my home. He was an idiot."

"Have you thought that maybe, just maybe, I enjoyed his company?" And now anger is evident in her voice. There is a tiny part of her that feels a secret satisfaction at being able to give him a little taste of his own medicine, regarding his gelid welcome, the first time she'd been back on the island, after his ultimatum.

"Are you kidding me? That guy is a civilian! He has no clue about military life or even what it's like to be us... to make the sacrifices we made and continue to make," he goes on, undeterred.

"Maybe that's what I need, ever think of that?" she asks, looking him dead in the eye.

"What do you mean?" He really is stumped.

"A normal, available, regular guy, with a 9-5 job, a mobile phone that rings during office hours only, uncomplicated and capable of talking about his emotions and what he wants out of a woman, willing to keep things casual enough for us to see each other when I'm in town, OK with me leaving to do my job. It's not that complicated, is it?" she goes on, eyeing him defiantly. She's not so much trying to tell him what went wrong in their relationship, but lashing out at his comment, annoyed. Lynn suddenly comes to Catherine's mind, like a gleaming sword, so she really doesn't understand why Steve's suddenly showed up in Washington, in her flat, at this hour, without a phone call or text to let her know he was coming, annoyed at another man for showing a romantic interest in her.

"Was than jab meant for me?" he asks, pinning her with a glare, annoyed at how accurately succinct she managed to be.

"Jab? No jab here, Steve... you asked." Catherine's losing her patience.

"Right. As if..." He rolls his eyes at her, sure that she meant her comment as criticism. "Besides, wasn't it kind of hard to 'keep a relationship going, when you do what you do'?" He's tipped his hand, by now, so 'in for a penny, in for a pound'. It's not as though he's in full control of his emotions, right now.

"Steve, don't you dare roll your eyes at me, I hate that," she wiggles her finger in warning, remembering the last time he'd done that. "And… what the hell do you want from me, anyway? You show up at my door, sit down to dinner with my friends and decide not to like one of them... but that's your problem, not mine... you want to put my friends through a thorough vetting process, now?" Sarcasm really doesn't become her.

"Cath, you know what I mean. That guy's a complete idiot! The stuff he said about the military... how could you even listen to him without telling him to shut up?!" Steve's not ready to let go of the bone, or to admit that his protests have nothing to do with what the man had to say about the Armed Forces.

"Steve, I'm not going to discuss my friends with you. Or dinner guests, for that matter," she adds, with finality, hoping to put the matter to rest.

"It's your life, your choice," he insists, unwilling to let go.

"What's it to you, anyway? My love life is none of your business. Hasn't been for a long time," she throws back, feeling tired. If anyone had told her, a mere two hours ago, that she would ever throw this at his face, she would roll down on the floor laughing.

"And whose fault is that, Catherine?" Steve whispers, looking away from her, feeling a pang of pain strike his heart.

His question leaves her stunned to silence for a few seconds. This was the last thing she expected to hear from him. She exhales forcefully, searching for his eyes and finally looks at him head on, unable to believe what she just heard. She can feel herself getting increasingly angrier and lashes out at him, not thinking her answer through.

"Mine, Steve, all mine. You were just an innocent bystander in our relationship. You were never to blame, in what happened. I just woke up one day, decided that I'd had enough happiness for a lifetime, so it was time to say goodbye to the man I loved, leave paradise and join the CIA, to go on to capture enemy combatants in dangerous, horrible places around the world! No family life, no social life, no love life, sort of like a punishment, you know? Yes. I needed to be punished for what I did to YOU. And now, just when I thought I had been punished enough, you show up at my door, to remind me of my wrongdoing and prolong said punishment. Nice."

Her sarcasm strikes him hard, so much so that he has the decency to look ashamed at her lashing out. He takes a step forward, towards her, hands open, facing down, trying to placate her anger.

"Cath, there's no punishment here, please. But you left without an explanation. I loved you too, you know? I was heartbroken, angry at you for leaving. Those are some very basic human emotions, strong and raw. It took me a very long time to deal with them, and to be able to be in the same room with you, again."

Catherine's momentarily stunned at his words. She would've never expected him to bare his soul, the way he just did. And it's also the first time she's ever looked him in the eye and heard him utter the word love, when it comes to her.

"You know, Steve, knowing things and communicating them to the person you're with are not exactly the same thing. Expecting the other to guess how you feel and what you want out of them... normally doesn't work. Adults need to speak, to communicate. And it's good to know that you finally found your 'relationship voice', and that you can finally talk about stuff. It's just a shame that it comes two years too late, and directed at the wrong person.

"What are you saying, Cath? If you were unhappy when we were together, why not tell me?"

"Nothing. I'm saying nothing. It's very late and I'm really tired. I think we both need to stop dredging up the past, and just leave it where it belongs."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that we both may say stuff that we regret, so let's not go there, please. Our window has passed."

"If there ever was a time to speak our minds, this is it. I'm here, I want to listen to what you have to say, no time like the present."

"You don't really mean that, believe me," Catherine says, looking at him seriously, hoping he doesn't go on.

"Why not? We're not together anymore, but we're still friends, right? I would've thought the time we spent apart, since breaking up, would've given us enough distancing to be able to talk about what happened, like two adults," he says, trying to convey a lightness he definitely doesn't feel. And what's with the "we're still friends" crap, Steven?

"Is that what you came here to do, then? Talk about what happened?" she throws back at him, as though the concept is as ridiculous as him suddenly having changed to the point of wanting to bare his soul to her.

"That, too."

"Why? Why now? What happened? Why the sudden need to rehash something that's in the past?" Catherine replies, annoyed. This is getting too painful for her.

"I'm older, wiser, more mature… call it what you want. I've been through a lot, in the last few years, and at some point, you start to take stock of your life, you know? Stuff you did right vs. stuff you got really wrong. I want to move forward with a clean conscience, to understand why some things happened."

"Oh, that's beautiful," Catherine says, dripping disdain. "Just perfect. And you're here to… what? Tell me about this beautiful realisation that suddenly hit you, so you can wash your conscience at my expense, and put the full blame of what happened on my shoulders?"

"No, Cath, it's not like that, please," he pleads with her, sighing, sorry for having made her feel the need to defend herself. "I needed to know you were OK, see you, talk to you."

"And this whole conversation couldn't have taken place in Montana? You had me all to yourself for almost four weeks! No need for air travel or cloak and dagger prying into my current address!"

"Montana was all about Joe. I was grieving at losing another father. My mind was consumed by thoughts of revenge, of finding out who was responsible. I had no time to think of anything else. You know how I get when I have work on my mind…"

"Sadly, I do know how you get when work is on your mind. But right now, you're here, you've seen I'm relatively unscathed, we've talked. What else do you need? Let's get this over with, I need to get some sleep."

"What else? First of all, I'd love to know why you left."

"Whoa, Nelly! I thought we'd had this conversation already – like, years ago."

"No – as always, we simply trampled all over our emotions and buried them. You remember our "talk" on the plane?" Steve says, smiling ironically.

"Wow, that's a first! You, admitting to not talking?" She's genuinely surprised.

"I've had a long time to think about this," he says, growing serious. "Why did you leave, Cath?" Suddenly, his eyes are on her and they never waver.

"Why can't it have been the reason I offered, at the time?" she says, only half invested in the lie.

"It could. But I don't buy it. So tell me – was it me? Was I so bad at being your boyfriend that you just decided to let go, not fight for us?"

"Oh, wait… so now this is ALSO my fault? I seem to remember you telling me, sitting on your porch, that if I left that time, you couldn't wait for me, not anymore. So, technically, you ended it, not me."

"And you could've told me why you were leaving, what was going on, Cath… Hell, kissed me and told me you didn't accept my ultimatum!"

"You're an adult. I would never presume to know what was going on in your heart. You never ever told me 'I love you' once, Steve! If you were so emotionally stunted that you were unable to open up to ME, why would I expose my emotions like that? Beg? That's not me! How could I be sure of your feelings for me, since you never said anything? I may be a Lieutenant in the United States Navy, and former Intelligence Officer, but there are things even I can't do, such as read your mind! We can't be expected to always figure out or assume how the other person is feeling, without words! And I'm also a woman! We like to be wooed, sometimes, you know?" And then, kind of to herself, she murmurs, "you might want to make the most of that tip in the future."

He looks at her with a 'really?', annoyed look, having heard her just fine, but lets it go. "So we both messed up, fine… Look, I'm gonna ask you the same question I asked you over 2 years ago, on that air strip, in Rabat. Are you happy, doing what you're doing? Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?"

"What do you mean? This is the job I chose, and I love it."

"I mean… is it enough for you? Are you happy, going from country to country, alone, acquiring assets and fighting enemy combatants, always in danger, with nothing and no one to come back home to?"

"You're assuming a lot, Steve," Catherine says, throwing him a look of warning, slightly offended by his perceived lopsidedness in their familial circumstances.

"Am I?" he asks, sad look marring his features.

"Don't go down that route, please," she says, mimicking his look, but with an edge of warning.

"Why? Is anything I'm thinking not true? Do you have a stable, happy love life, during the short periods you are stateside? A boyfriend? A husband? A child? A real Ohana? Are you happy with your life?"

"You bastard! How dare you?" Catherine gives Steve an incredulous look, feeling her ire rise within her, and moves away from him, breath catching in her chest, heart pounding furiously, brows furrowed.

"What? Ask you about all this? They're normal questions between friends!"

"We're not JUST friends, Steve. So these questions, from you to me... no, not with our history. I still can't believe you're here, asking me this stuff!"

"Exactly, Cath, we're not JUST friends. Despite what we told each other in Kaho'olawe, trying to make an awkward situation less awkward, I never ever regretted 'sleeping with you'," he makes air quotes. "Besides, there was no other way that relationship could've gone. I loved you almost from the first day I met you. Which is why I'd really like to know if you're happy with the life you lead these days."

"You know what? I'm going to bed, I refuse to rehash our breakup. We had a silent understanding between us, where we didn't talk about our past. And I was fine with that!"

"You refuse?! Our breakup? You mean, your breakup! Because it was all about your decision, your move, your leaving, your wants and needs," Steve says, indignant, unable to control his mouth.

"What? Is that how you see it? As though you always put your thoughts out in the open? As though YOU weren't the one to throw an ultimatum at my face? 'If you go now, don't bother coming back?' You can't force me to talk about that! I won't!"

"Catherine… your refusal to talk about what happened only makes me even more suspicious as to why you left. Please, talk to me," he pleads.

"Steve, you're grieving and that makes people do crazy things. I am sorry Joe's gone, but that doesn't give you the right to show up here, and…"

"This has nothing to do with Joe," he says adamantly, dismissing her suggestion with a flick of the hand, matter-of-factly. "Joe is dead and buried. I am grieving, yes, but right now, I am following his advice. Because I am not dead. And neither are you. Life's for the living, Catherine! Everyone around me kept telling me that I needed to get my head out of my ass and chase after my happiness, "Don't waste time", "'Find a good woman, settle down". So, I thought I'd found my second chance in life, after so much heartache – and I took it. I guess I was just hoping you'd been able to find a similar peace, for yourself…?" Steve says, calming down and lowering his tone of voice. He looks at her with his full attention and at that moment, can literally feel each of his heartbeats pulse in his ears, air burning his nostrils, wave of adrenaline punishing him. "I worry about you, I am your friend, after all," he finishes, clumsily, trying to deflate her anger.

Catherine can only think of Lynn as she listens to Steve and angrily turns her back to him, turning off the living room lights with him still inside. She starts to walk towards the bedroom, ready to close the door and shut Steve's words out, annoyed that her walking pace can't be faster, to put her point across. She's on the brink of tears at hearing him tell her that Lynn was his 'second chance', and no longer worried at what he will think, given her reaction. Suddenly, she hears Steve's angry voice, as he moves closer to her:

"Yeah, walk away, like you always do."

His words have the desired effect; she turns around, indignant look on her face and just stares at him, glances doing battle, wanting nothing more than to throw him out of her flat without ceremony. Instead, all she can feel is her arm rising and her hand slapping him with force across the face, as though she's having an out-of-body experience. The force of the slap is only equaled by her angry words, tears falling from her eyes.

"How dare you, Steven McGarrett! How dare you?" Catherine sputters, turning around to flee to her bedroom.

Without even blinking from her slap, Steve caringly pulls on her wrist, hoping this will stop her, but Catherine is really angry and simply breaks free of his hold with a tug of her arm, never looking back, intent on continuing towards the bedroom. What she hasn't counted on is Steve's speed, as he swiftly walks forward and does a 180, standing in front of her, intense, pained look on his face. When Catherine tries to round his form and continue forward, lowering her eyes so he doesn't see her tears continuing to fall, he lunges towards her, hands on both sides of her face and crashes his lips on hers - a hungry, desperate, primal kiss, ignited with a passion that he has been holding back on for weeks, now.