"Our love story is epic, spanning years and Continents. Lives ruined, bloodshed. EPIC."

Logan Echols, Veronica Mars

Catherine Rollins' Flat

Washington, D. C.

1223 hours

Waking up again, alone, Catherine sighs dejectedly, wondering for a millisecond if it was all imagined. In the cold, harsh, morning light, the significance of what happened hits her like a ton of bricks, making her feel uncomfortable with herself.

After leaving Hawai'i, her love life had been left in limbo, and few were the times she had willingly stopped to think about what it all meant. The subject was painful to her and don't we tend to simply shy away from stuff that causes us pain? There had been some pretenders, yes. But due to the nature of the job, at first, Catherine had wanted to focus entirely on getting used to the work that was required of her, leaving the US to go on dangerous assignments, alone. When life had settled, somewhat, and she'd been able to find some routine in her chaos, she still hadn't wanted to date or have one night stands – they made no sense to her. She'd had the best, a love that would've only required some compromise to fulfil her, and she knew there would never be anyone else like him. So, she'd been faced with two very simple, straightforward options: ignore that fact and look for solace in other beds, or just assume that, in this lifetime, he was it for her and bury herself in work and forget men existed.

At some point, in one of her rare 'thinking about life's regrets' moments, the thought had occurred to her, that maybe she was punishing herself, subconsciously, for leaving a potentially perfect life behind. But the knowledge of her restless nature had somewhat abated that guilt, and Steve's reaction had further justified her actions. However, time had given her the necessary distancing and allowed her to relativise events and decisions. Looking back, she realises that her need to wander the world had had to be answered, at the time and that had she stayed, she doesn't even know if she'd still be his wife anymore, or even happy. But the years have passed and maybe her wandering need has lessened. Or she's learnt to forgive herself for things she can't control, like Billy's death. Or maybe she's finally admitted to herself that she still wants him, despite time, distance and unspoken words. Maybe theirs is not a common love story. Maybe he's her... what was it people say? Soulmate? Endgame? Maybe they are meant to meet again as partners in another life.

She sighs, annoyed that their timing always seems to be off. After Montana, things had changed... she knew it, and so did he. But she had never expected him to act on those changes. Sure, the best case scenario had crossed her mind. The one where he was no longer attached to the blonde that had occupied his heart and living room when she'd last been to his place. But he'd said nothing, made no indication of such a romantic status change and let's face it, if there ever was a time to have mentioned it, it would've been Montana. And then, Danny had confirmed her worst suspicions, gleefully warning her to back off.

Steve wasn't the kind of man to have bold gestures when it came to his heart; in fact, she suspected that was one of the reasons she had ultimately decided to leave Hawai'i and go work for the CIA. He... settled, for lack of a better word. He had been unable to ask her to stay, to tell her he loved her to her face – in 10+ years -, to say that she was the one and that he wanted HER and no other. Even if he had secretly been planning to propose - it might've been borne out of normalcy, as the next step to take and only that. Not as a gesture spurned from the ardent desire to live the rest of his life with her, and her alone. Looking at things coldly, from her perspective, it's almost as though any woman would do. So long as there was one. And she didn't demand much from him - time or romantic declarations. She had ultimately felt like she was... filling a gap. Not because she was the ONE, the only one he could share his space and heart with, but because she was convenient. She was there. They felt comfortable with each other, they were used to each other. So she had left. And had hoped, for a while after that, that despite his declaration of unwillingness to wait for her, he would. More, that he would chase after her. What woman doesn't like to be told, ONCE, that she is loved, to her face? But instead, he had let her go and held onto his pride. So if she wasn't worth being chased, she'd prefer to be alone. Sometimes it was best. Not that she had managed to forget him, that was a whole different department. Thus, her lack of willingness to enter into a romantic relationship with another man. Steve had left an indelible mark on her heart, one that, by now, she suspected she would never be able to erase. Then again, she didn't know if she really wanted to or had truly tried.

She gets up and heads for the kitchen to have a drink of water, thoughts swirling in her head. When she reaches the threshold, she spots Steve in front of the stove, clad only in boxers, cooking. She leans against the door jamb, crosses her arms and smiles, reveling in the vision in front of her, waiting for him to notice that he's no longer alone. Her eyes roam the expanse of his body, while she remembers everything he made her feel when he finally managed to get her to give in to him, and a smile spreads again through her cheeks, regrets and sorrows forgotten. Steve is also smiling, oblivious to her presence, focused on what he's doing. He turns to grab something from a supermarket bag, on the counter and finally notices her. His sly smile grows wider as he ambles towards her, lazily, and his arms circle her waist, reaching for her lips to kiss her with gusto.

"Hey, Lieutenant," he says, smug, never letting go of her body.

"Hi, Commander," looking at him sideways, she throws him a lopsided smile, loving the way his voice sounds

"Hungry?" he asks, moving his eyebrows up and down, in a suggestive manner. "I went out for some eggs. We weren't going to repeat the frustration of Montana all over again. This time we'll have everything our hearts desire," he concludes, smiling, hinting at so much more than food.

"You're... making breakfast?" Catherine asks, pretending she hasn't noticed how at ease he seems to be in her kitchen.

"Yeah... figured you might need some sustenance, after last night and this morning..." He smiles openly at her, never letting go.

"Really? Why? What happened last night that might make me hungry?" She throws back at him, the picture of innocence.

"Well, you know... there was a lot of physical exercise going on... that makes people tired, and hungry."

"So... you're saying I'm hungry AND tired? Because of all the physical exercise I did yesterday and this morning?"

"WE did", he corrects her, making a point.

"Doesn't ring a bell, sorry, no. And I'm fine, not tired or hungry," Catherine counters, shaking her head, serious.

"Cath..." Steve warns, feigning offence.

"What? I don't remember anything happening that could possibly make me hungry. The physical exercise was average, like a 10 minute run, and that was it," she counters, turning away from him, smiling to herself.

"Is that so? Not what you said, regarding the lack of physical exercise you've been voting yourself to, during the last couple of years..." He's fishing, but she doesn't take the bait and confirm how long it's been. He pulls her arm, stopping her from moving, and wraps his arm around her waist.

"Two different things, you know? In that department, last night didn't ruffle any of my feathers," Catherine says, a look of mischief crossing her features.

"Well then," Steve says, a disarming smile crossing his, "I guess I'll have to tire you out this morning. Again."

"Not if it's going to be a repeat of last night..." Catherine says, laughing. "Steve McGarrett, losing his touch! Ouch!"

He laughs and decides to play. "What I'm hearing you say is that you're not happy with my performance, is that it?" Steve says, raising his eyebrows and waving his index finger between him and Catherine.

"What I'm saying is that it did not have the... expected effect."

"I see... How about we terminate the experience, then, since I did not measure up to your exacting standards?" he says and moves away from her, to crack a few eggs onto a bowl, reaching for a drop of milk. His absence makes her shiver with longing.

"Ah, Commander... I did not remember you being like this, giving up on the first hurdle..."

"I'm not 'giving up', as you put it. I KNOW my performance was up to par. But your standards are so exacting I might as well pack up my bag of tricks and leave. You know what they say, "there's no pleasing some people, no matter how hard you try..."

"Thanks for not going with the obvious "If you're not happy with my performance, someone else might appreciate what I have to offer…" Catherine says, suddenly growing serious.

"Didn't even come to my mind. Really," he throws at her, mimicking her facial expression.

"Regarding your performance, Commander... how hard DID you try, really?" she says, shaking sad thoughts from her head that she doesn't want contaminating this moment.

"Seriously? I tried really hard NOT to hurt you..."

"Oh, so you're going to go with that, huh? I see… so had I NOT been injured, I'd be hungry and tired, right now?" Catherine says, giggling.

"Yes, you ARE," Steve says, smiling disarmingly at her." But if you maintain that you're not hungry, then I'll just have to eat all the eggs by myself. And leave, in shame. That kind of stuff destroys a man's ego, you know..."

"As if, Steven John McGarrett, as if..." she says, pensive, throwing him a suspicious glance.

"What?" he asks, playing the innocent card so well, it makes her laugh.

"You know damn well you wore me out," Catherine says quickly, in a sharp tone. Their banter is so familiar, it makes her heart ache with the knowledge that it will soon end.

He shrugs, pretending to be sorry for what he's about to say. "You know what people say, 'if you didn't leave her shaking in the knees, you did not do your job well'."

…"'And if the neighbours don't know your name by now', too?"

"You said it, not me." He shrugs, smug.

"Funny. Real funny."

"So… ARE you hungry?" he asks, dropping the eggy mixture onto the frying pan.

"Eggs will do… for now," she answers, taunting him with a naughty smile.

"Wow, aren't we feeling impish this morning..." he laughs openly at her, brows slightly furrowed. Then, getting serious, he moves closer, grabbing her by the waist again. "I haven't felt this happy and free in a very long time. It's as though, suddenly, the black clouds hovering over my head have cleared and let the sun shine through." As he looks her in the eye, Steve leans down to capture her lips in a heated kiss.

"Well, I'm not going to have you here forever, now am I? I have to make the most of it..."

Steve releases her and goes back to the eggs, turning off the burner. Catherine looks at him in bewilderment, wondering how they went from him showing up at her door the night before, unannounced, to him now standing in her kitchen, making scrambled eggs that she didn't even know she had. A warm, fuzzy feeling invades her, much like comfort food does, and she can't help but smile.

"You know, you turning up at my door, yesterday… and what happened afterwards, was very unexpected," she concludes, looking at him.

"Not from where I'm standing... I've been dreaming of this for weeks, now," Steve answers, smiling openly. He knows his best policy, at this point, is to be as honest as he can, if he has any chance of getting this woman back in his life, in any way, shape or form. And he wants that, with all his might.

"I'm glad to see that the Alpha male in you finally took action. Long time coming, this booty call, huh?" Catherine says, pensive. "Could've saved us both a lot of pent up sexual frustration," she continues, trying her best not to label what just transpired between them as anything more than what she just called it. Maybe if he agrees with her, they can move forward relatively unscathed, after having scratched their long-standing itch.

But Steve is not the type of man to go to this much trouble for a booty call, and she knows it. Much less if the object of his search is the woman in front of him, who has been populating his daydreams for the longest time. In fact, he's pretty sure, by now, that he only momentarily forgot about her due to sheer force of will, aggravated by anger, coupled with desperation about the fact that she was gone for good, or so he thought. So he tells her that, in no uncertain terms.

"Again, you're mad if you think that I came all the way from Afghanistan, to come knocking on your door on a cold, winter's night, to what? Get laid? A booty call? That's not what this is, Catherine, and I'm not that kind of man," Steve says, his expression turning serious, "though it's been a long while for me too" he says, smiling at her.

"Oh, come on, Steve... can we please not go there?" Catherine answers, losing the smile and looking him straight in the eye.

"I'm not 'going there', I'm just answering you. Sincerely. I'm starting to wonder if you're happy I'm still here or if you wish I had left already. Booty call-style," he goes on, now annoyed at her. It's been a long time since they've been together as boyfriend and girlfriend, and he's starting to think that maybe she's changed, maybe he doesn't know her that well anymore. Or maybe her damn job changed her.

Shaking her head, Catherine thinks back to the day she left Hawaii and Steve, and realises he has a point. She smiles warmly at him, and reaches for his arm, stroking it lightly.

"I'm very happy you're here. I'm very happy to have woken up with you in my bed. I'm very happy you showed up at my door yesterday and that we made love." She can tell he's happy that she's being sincere.

"I knew that, had you absolutely decided against us, you would've kicked my ass when I kissed you and shown me the door."

"Don't think that I wasn't tempted. But you're…. you. I guess that's the best way to describe it. You hold a very special place in my heart. And I've definitely missed this… whatever it may be. A girl has needs."

"I'm hearing you talk and I'm feeling cheap. Like I just performed a service. I know you don't really mean it," Steve says, half amused, trying to gauge just how serious she's being.

"… Don't I, now?" she answers, lost in thought.

"What gives, Cath? Why are you being so guarded? Why can't we talk about us?" He finally says it, but his joy is short lived.

"Us? There is no US!" Catherine becomes agitated, breaking free of his hold.

"Why?" Steve's heart is breaking all over again.

"I'll tell you why - you live in Hawai'i and I've been running black ops for the CIA for three years. Plus, there's our personal circumstances, you think, for a moment, that I want an occasional 'friends with benefits' relation with you? How many more reasons do you want?" She's angry now, her voice aggressive, sorry for the mess they've made of this.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, genuinely oblivious to what she's referring to.

She falters in her bravado, the defiance in her abating, something in her softening towards him. She's quiet for a moment.

"Steve, look… I won't pretend, last night and this morning was… magical, beautiful, wonderful."

His groin responds to her words with a faint reverberation. "That, Cath, is the understatement of the century," he says, absentmindedly fingering the end of a long strand of her hair.

"And no one will ever take those memories away from us…"

"Or the memories of the days and nights to come…" he murmurs, chuckling softly when she turns an appealing shade of pink.

"It was… unbelievable," she says again, nervously folding the hem of her dressing gown.

A warning flags in Steve's brain – he suddenly comes nearer, puts one arm around her and with the other forces her to look at him. "But?"

"But… so much has gone on between us, so much is still going on with each one of us…" She mutters, miserably.

Panic. Swift and sharp, it makes his stomach dip as if their future together has just been cut short by a cruel fiend. "What do you mean?" he asks, trying to keep his voice level.

She drops her gaze again, and he stares intently at her, uneasiness in him swelling.

"Steve, I don't want a relationship with you or anyone else, right now. Can't you just… you know? Forget this ever happened and go back to your life?" Her tears are falling freely, right now, but he's so surprised at her words, he doesn't move.

Her meaning finally sinks in; his worst fears are confirmed and her rejection tears through him, a pain sharper than the first time. Steve's a mix of feverish, jittery, unsettled and rushed, adrenaline punishing him for his audacity. He's been wanting her ever since she showed up at his door, in Montana, so letting go of her is unthinkable, right now. He tries to delay what's inevitably coming up next.

"We're not promised tomorrow, you know? We have today," Steve says, and the tone of his voice is the saddest that has ever come out of his mouth. "If my transplant taught me anything, it was that. Regardless of what happens next, Catherine, you'll always have my heart." He looks her in the eye, pointedly, and pauses for 5 seconds. "Always. You're my best friend. So let me love you one last time, like I'm going to lose you, like I'm saying goodbye. I don't want to think about what happens tomorrow. Just give me that, please."

She cries all the way to the bedroom, on his lap, unable to join two words together. Knowing this will be their last time ever, his heart constricts with sadness, sure that he will never get back the part of him that had died, the day she'd left. Their coupling is all-consuming, irrational, intense, and wild. He wants to memorise every curve of her body, the electrifying touch of her skin, the smell of her hair, the taste of her kisses, the sound of her moans, the way she begs for more when she's about to come and cry 'Steve!', how she looks him deep in the eye and sinks her fingernails into his back at the pleasure he gives her, molding into him and not wanting him to pull out afterwards.

Before he leaves, he begs her to stay in touch, but he knows she won't. Desperation takes a hold of both of them; maybe severing all ties is best, but he still hopes she won't do it. "I still need you in my life, Cath," are his final words to her, before he grabs his trusted duffle bag and heads out.

As she closes the door to her flat, Catherine leans against it and sinks down onto the floor, silently saying goodbye to the only man she has ever truly loved. Tears have started to flow freely, again, and her heart wants nothing more than to call him back, but her mind stands her ground, knowing this is her only option, if she wants to regain some of her dignity and maintain it. Praying that Steve manages to find the happiness that has always eluded him, Catherine cries herself to sleep on the floor.