A change is gonna come
Honolulu Airport
Honolulu, Hawai'i
January 28th, Monday
2037 Hours
Night has fallen by the time Steve disembarks his flight at Honolulu airport. He considers calling Danny or Lou, but the thought of having to answer questions about what happened in Afghanistan fills him with dread. First, because nothing happened in Afghanistan, compared to what happened in Washington. Second, because everything that happened ever since he left the same airport he's now standing on, reminds him of her, and he still can't make sense of, or believe in, what took place between them. Third, he highly doubts he would be able to hide his emotional state from his best friend, or Lou. Sighing deeply, despondent, Steve decides to grab a cab and postpone the inevitable until the next day, hoping Junior isn't home.
He thanks the circumstances for not having been able to think much, during his flights; the pilot of the military flight he was lucky enough to catch, out of D.C., had asked him if he wanted to travel in the cockpit, and he'd eagerly accepted. Not because he was looking forward to the scenery, but because he welcomed the company and distraction. When he'd gotten to LAX, his flight had been full of wailing babies and sickly sweet honeymooners who appeared to be flying to Hawai'i for the first time, so between being unusually annoyed that he hadn't been able to procure a window seat, the cries, and the requests for photos and aisle access, Steve had also been mercifully distracted. But now, he's starting to dread getting home; being left alone with his thoughts may just prove overwhelming.
Exiting the cab, Steve pays the driver on auto-pilot, thanking him, and glances towards the house; the lights are off and nobody seems to be home. Suddenly, he's transported back to that horrible day, when he'd gotten home and she was waiting for him on the porch, packed bag next to her, a look of utter regret on her face. All the times she'd left, before, to go do her job, he knew she'd eventually return. There was safety in that knowledge, a spurious sense of settlement that had never compelled him to ask any more of her. Or of offering any more than he already had. On that horrible day, though… he finally realised how wrong he'd been, immediately pained by how he was going to feel without her. So, he'd come to terms with the reality that she was not coming back and tried to distract his heart with another love. But three years have passed, now, and all those settled feelings have been unearthed and left exposed, raw, leaving him once again on that porch, contemplating his future – without her. Now, he has enough clarity, afforded by time, to suspect one thing, at least: that he won't be truly happy without her. Suddenly, all he can think is how badly he wishes she was inside, waiting for him. Sighing, inwardly annoyed at himself, he realises he should've insisted on a real reason, then; he didn't do it this time, too. The same mistake, three years apart, and all his doing. What in the name of God was he thinking? Why hadn't he just kissed her senseless, pushed against the wall, and held on until she'd promised to love him unconditionally again, like she had once done?
The closer he gets to the door, the more he finds that he's truly dreading the solitude and silence he's bound to find inside, no longer sure of what would be best: finding Junior home, or not. He drops his keys on the small table just inside his front door and momentarily fumbles with the lamp, flooding the room in a warm, subdued light. Calling out to Junior, there is no answer and no Eddie, too, so he heads to the kitchen and grabs a beer from the fridge, moving back into the living room to slump down on his recliner, not even one bit comforted by the fact that it remembers all the indentations of his body.
His phone suddenly pings with a message and a sliver of hope blooms inside him. Nobody knows he's back on the island, so could it be Catherine, wanting to know if he got home OK, or to ask him to go back? He breathes deeply and closes his eyes, not wanting disappointment to punish his ailing heart. Steve dwells a moment longer before pulling the phone out and checking the identity of the sender. Danny. 'When will you be back? We all miss you.' Anger flares inside him, irrationally, resentment bubbling at his best friend for the way he had treated Catherine when he'd gone to Montana. Despite the fact that he was mourning Joe, Steve had noticed little details of their interaction that had told him it had not gone well. He'd also felt that they were adults and friends, so they should be able to sort their stuff out. But right now, Steve is clinging to any reason to justify her final words to him and attributing blame is far easier than admitting it. So he turns his phone off and throws it on the sofa, to his left, hoping he will get too drunk to remember where he left it. Taking another slug of his beer, he snorts, indignant, thinking that Danny would be furious at him if he knew he was planning on having his liver suffer the brunt of his broken heart, tonight. He also knows he would gladly welcome the provocation, because he needs to take his anger out on someone.
Steve can't help but feel that something more than just the job was going on with Catherine, but he has no idea what, and she wasn't exactly forthcoming. First, she gives in to him - something she clearly wanted to do - and then, at the end, tells him to go, tears falling down her face, obviously in pain. Why had she done that? Then, he remembers the two instances when she had tried to reduce their night and morning together to a mere scratching of an itch, and anger flares within him again, making him wonder even more. Catherine has never been that kind of woman and even if she was trying to do it to him, whom she'd dated before, it was definitely out of character. Sighing, he once again berates himself for not having pushed for an explanation, an answer to his final question. Maybe it was a mix of fear of the answer and incredulity at what he was hearing? The certainty that they would have more time to talk? Thinking that he would be able to sway her mind and get her to confide in him? Whatever reasons she may have had, he's been, once again, left in the dark about them, and somehow, after what transpired between them, that knowledge is made many times worse than if they hadn't crossed that line. Two beers later, bitter and with a heavy heart, Steve finally decides to cut his drunken plans short and go to bed, feeling miserable at his situation, bereft at not even having Eddie around to console him.
McGarrett Home
January 29th, Tuesday
0439 Hours
Steve's sleep is filled with nightmares that attack his subconscious mind in bursts; he gets up twice to roam the house aimlessly, plagued by a feeling of urgent despair. He can't erase Catherine's final words from his mind, and all sorts of scenarios come to his mind. Is she being forced by the CIA into any kind of work contract that she wants to get out of, but can't? Come to think of it, how exactly did she start working for them? (Wouldn't you like to know that, Steve?) Or is she dating someone else, and that was her way of telling him goodbye? No, he dismisses that possibility, Catherine would never have slept with him if she was dating someone else. And then, he thinks back to those wonderful hours they'd spent together, and he's sure of one thing. He knows Catherine well enough to read between her lines, and the way she ultimately surrendered to him, the way she looked him in the eye, the scorch of her touch… she loves him. He felt it with the entire might of his soul. Steve sighs again, frustrated, wondering what he can do to find out what is going on. However, any action that comes to his mind is ultimately tempered by an unwillingness to expose himself any more than he already has. They're both adults, he thinks in childish anger. If this is what she wants, he'll have to find a way to accept it. At least, until the next time he thinks about her with that sinking feeling that his happiness will continue to elude him, should he continue to stubbornly refuse to admit that he loves her, and no other.
Soon enough, the day dawns and Steve gives thanks for the end of a sleepless and restless night. He knows he must pull himself together before facing Danny. Danny knows him too well not to notice something's wrong, so Steve needs to brace himself for the possibility of questions. Actually, more like a fishing expedition, Danny is dogged. He dresses quickly and exits the house without having any breakfast, trying to erase the memory of his last, from his mind. As he walks up the stairs at Iolani Palace, Steve can't help the continuing sensation of sadness he's been battling for the last two days and prays for a case to take his mind away from it. When he enters the double doors of 5-0 headquarters, Danny, Lou, Junior, Tani, Quinn and Adam are all around the smart table, and apparently there's a case. This somehow comforts Steve; he knows any scrutiny and explanations will have to be postponed until later. Even the familiar faces that greet him with happiness feel odd, detached, unwanted. It's like he's in the twilight zone and everyone else still sees him in this dimension.
"Hi, everyone, I'm back."
"Steve!", "Boss!", "Welcome back!" they all cry in unison, genuinely happy at having their leader back in their fold. From the far end of the room, he can hear Eddie getting up and running to greet him, happy at having him home, at last. Steve crouches down to scratch behind his head and talk to the dog, happy for the reprieve to prepare for their questions, feeling everyone's eyes on him.
"Hi, guys, thanks. It's good to be back." Even saying it feels strange, as though everyone looking at him will be able to tell that he is not whole, that he's left something of himself behind. The smile that doesn't really reach his eyes doesn't escape Danny's notice, but he refrains from the easy quip, deciding instead to ask about it later.
"So… what happened with Al-Nazri in the end?" Tani asks, genuinely curious.
"He escaped into Afghanistan, long and short. We captured Ahmed Zahed, though, but he told us that he hadn't seen or heard from him since before he left for Hawai'i."
"Is he being brought out here to stand trial?" It's Adam's turn to ask, curiosity piqued.
"As soon as the CIA processes him, of course. I'll make it a point to sit in the front row at his trial, and testify," Steve adds, through gritted teeth. "I'm just sorry I couldn't get my hands on Al-Nazri. But his time will come."
"We know it will, Steve," Lou speaks, at last, smiling reassuringly at him and moving in to hug him. "But now we need to focus on this case. We need to move quickly or we'll lose the trail and these two bastards will escape."
"Sure," Steve says, happy for the distraction, "Get me up to speed."
A few hours later, back at 5-0 headquarters, case closed, Steve finally heads for his office, dreading the mountain of paperwork he is sure is awaiting his attention. Finding none, he turns to find Danny has quietly opened the door and is eyeing him with curiosity.
"So…" Danny moves slowly towards the couch, never taking his eyes off Steve's.
"So…" Steve faces Danny, but adds nothing more.
"How was Afghanistan?" Danny is struck by the sadness in Steve's eyes.
"Hell." And the word so well describes everything he's been through in the last two weeks, he feels no need to add any more.
Danny sighs, sorry for what his friend has gone through. "I'm sorry, Steve." Hesitating, he decides to continue, sitting down on the couch. "I'm sorry for saying this, but you seem… broken."
"I just told you why, Danny," he throws back at his best friend, sitting down, hoping to distract him. "It was tough, really tough."
"I can imagine, but it's more than that, Afghanistan was not your first foray into a war zone. Did something else happen?"
Damn Danny and his insight. Intuitive and shrewd is not what he needs right now. "War happened, Danny. Terrorists happened. People killed without rhyme or reason. Isn't it enough?"
Squinting at his friend, Danny makes a split-second decision. He lets it go and chooses the illusion of hopeful belief.
"OK, fine. Come on, let's get out of here, beers are on me."
"Not tonight, Danny. I want to go home. I'm still jet lagged and tired."
"Are you all right? Something wrong with your liver? Radiation? Did you make sure to take all your medication when you were out playing G. I. Joe?"
"Yes, mummy," Steve laughs, sarcastic, touched by Danny's concern for his health. "I just feel tired, that's all. We're no spring chickens anymore, you know?" he smiles on, hoping to at least convey the semblance of all being 'business as usual'.
"OK, fine. Well, then, I'm heading home. Call me if you need anything, OK?"
"Why would I need anything?" Steve asks, wanting to perpetuate the idea that all is well, when really, all is far from it.
"Oh, you know, someone to mess up your place, watch TV all night and sleep on your couch? I'm your man," Danny adds, beaming radiantly.
"Annoy me to death, you mean," he throws his friend a death stare.
"Oh, come on, you love me!" Danny smiles back, halfway out the door.
"I often wonder why," Steve mutters to himself, smiling.
Getting home, Steve notices that Junior isn't there, again, and gives thanks for that. Maybe he sensed Steve wanted to be left alone… or maybe he and Tani finally admitted their feelings for each other. He smiles slightly at the thought, and in a heartbeat his smile turns bitter, when she comes to his mind. Disheartened, he climbs the stairs to his bedroom slowly, as if doing so represents a herculean effort. Oh, how he wishes that everything that happened in Washington hadn't ended the way it did, that it had actually meant that they had gone on to put all their cards out in the open, really talked about everything they've been bottling up for years, now, let go of mutual reproaches and admitted their feelings for each other! As he lies down and turns off the lights, under the cover of darkness, Steve allows himself to dream of an alternate scenario for this precise moment: one where she would be lying in bed, next to him, and he wouldn't have to wonder what she would be doing the next day – staying or going. One scenario where he'd proposed, they'd gotten married and were happy, living together. Hoping she has somehow sensed his sadness, Steve reaches for his mobile, in hopes of finding a message from Catherine, but there's just radio silence from her end. Heart constricting with sadness, he turns over and tries to go to sleep.
McGarrett Home
January 30th, Wednesday
0724 Hours
The next morning, Steve wakes up slightly more settled, courtesy of the decent hours of sleep he managed to agree upon, with the night. He hasn't gone swimming ever since he got back; he also feels no desire to, this morning, so he showers and gets dressed, hoping to get to the Palace early and read all the crime reports that have been piling up in his inbox. He has also been mulling over the whole Al-Nazri situation, and makes a decision. As he gets to work, he gathers the team around the smart table and lays out his plan. Although he is happy that Ahmed Zahed was finally captured in Afghanistan, he is also painfully aware that he was not the mastermind behind the bombings. And Steve wants Al-Nazri to stand trial, just like Zahed will. It's a point of honour, for him. And also, maybe, a way of thanking Catherine for her help (and the CIA's, he thinks, begrudgingly) and to justify her concussion, gash across the head and hip bruise. Suddenly, images flood his mind of her pliant, naked body and what he did to it, and he pauses for a few seconds, shooting burn rising in his chest, lost in thought. Brought back to the present by his work colleagues' expectant faces, he lays out his request: along with their regular case load, he asks the team to put in a little more effort and time into trying to find out anything more about the rest of the group that helped Al-Nazri plant the bombs and every single one of them immediately agrees with his plan.
A few hours later, Steve leaves the palace to meet with the Governor; after relaying the result of his trip to Afghanistan, he tells her that the team are still looking into arresting every last one of the men who participated in the bombings. Mahoe takes a moment to really look at Steve and asks him to sit down, taking the chair next to him.
"Commander, how are you doing?"
"Ma'am?" Steve asks, surprised. Mahoe only rarely asks him anything about his personal life. It's like everyone around him can tell he's off, somehow, despite his best efforts at hiding it as best he can.
"It can't have been easy, burying all those people right after the death of Commander Joe White and then getting on a plane to Afghanistan, to chase after Al-Nazri," Mahoe explains, a sympathetic look crossing her features. She's no fool, she knows she needs to have her top man in the best shape and no matter how tough Steve is, he must've been affected by all the losses he has endured recently.
"All in a day's work, Ma'am," Steve answers, smiling and nodding, a little uneasy at his boss' prodding.
"Commander, I may not have been a SEAL, or even in the military, but I am not ignorant of the stress and pressure you've been under, lately," Mahoe goes on, looking attentively at Steve with an easy smile, avoiding giving out the idea that she's on a fishing expedition.
"I'm fine, Ma'am, thanks for asking." But Steve is not liking where this is going. Unless Mahoe wants to offer him some paid leave, he thinks, with irony.
"Commander, my staff is ultimately my responsibility. And I take that responsibility very seriously. It has come to my attention that you're due for a Psych Audit very soon. Please, call Dr. Alana and make sure you go, sooner rather than later."
Steve's anger flares inside him; so this is his payout, for having gone above and beyond? He's never liked Psych Audits, or Shrinks or Therapy, much like every other military man he knows. He's sure as hell not going to start liking them now. But Mahoe is attentively looking at him, perhaps looking for a sign of dissension, so he capitulates, sighing and bowing his head down.
"Yes, Governor."
"Commander," and she pauses, making Steve look up. "This is for your own good. And for that of your team, too."
"Governor…. Have there been any complaints?"
"Now, Commander, that's a silly question, don't you think?" Mahoe says, amused. "I've never met a more united team, loyal to a fault to their leader. And it's exactly because I wonder what would happen to 5-0 if you were not 100%, that I want to keep my most valuable asset in tip top shape." And she's still smiling. "Seriously, Commander, just do the Psych Audit and let's make everyone happy. Even I have to answer to the little man when it comes to rules and regulations."
Steve comes down the stairs at the Governor's mansion deep in thought; he doesn't know what prompted her unexpected request, especially since he's always complied with what was asked of him, in the past. But without more information, there's nothing else he can do or think, but do as he was asked. When he gets to Danny's car, his mind is back on the bombings, and he calls Junior, asking him to pick up Kaikane Nahele at his home. He wants to re-interview him, since he's their best lead at trying to unravel the mystery surrounding the bombings; the team must identify and find all other members of the group and bring them to justice. Steve is not in a very talkative mood, mulling over their options.
"So…" Danny starts, bent on getting to the bottom of Steve's recent sullenness.
"So…" Steve throws back at him, mind on other matters.
"What… uh… what did the Governor want?"
"What do you mean, what did she want? It was our weekly meeting, Danny."
"Yeah, but unlike your weekly meetings, you were out for a lot longer than the customary 30 minutes," Danny laughs. "And you look annoyed. However much you dislike these meetings and always label them as 'a waste of your SEAL time', you don't normally come huffing and puffing out of them".
Steve sighs, unwilling to concede defeat. "She just wanted to know what happened in Afghanistan, that's all."
"Did she, now? Seems we all want the same, these days…"
Steve turns to Danny, confused. "Huh?"
"What did you tell her?"
For a millisecond, Steve contemplates the possibility of Danny having asked Mahoe to talk to him. However, he soon discards the thought, deciding to confide in his best friend. He just got back and Danny wouldn't do that to him. "Fine. She wants me to go see the department shrink. Somehow, she thinks that everything that's been going on has affected me, somewhat."
"What? No…." Danny quips, sarcastic.
"Funny, very funny, Danno. And what's up with that crap, anyway? She doesn't know me!"
"But she worries about you, the head of his task force. With everything on her plate, it's kinda nice, no?"
Steve sighs, defeated. "Maybe. Actually, I'd prefer it if she hadn't. Anyway, I'll have to make an appointment to see Dr. Alana soon. Just get it over and done with."
"That's the spirit," Danny answers, ironic. Then, becoming serious, he adds "It may do you good, you know?"
"Since when do you think that? I've heard you complain about mandatory Psych Audits enough times to be suspicious of you, right now."
"Oh, no, what I meant is that opening up to a professional, about whatever has been going on with you, may do you good."
"Nothing's 'been going on with me', Danny. If I have to do it, I'll do it."
"You should really look at it as an opportunity to, maybe, deal with some of your demons."
"What are you talking about? I have no demons."
"Sure you do, Steve! We all do! I have my brother, whose killer I shot in cold blood, the death of my partner, back in Jersey… you have your Dad, Freddie… and, on another level, Doris and Catherine." Danny knows he's risking a serious fight with Steve, but he adds their names to the mix, for the sake of thoroughness. And also, if he's being honest, because he's still not sure what exactly happened between Steve and Catherine in Montana, and if what he suspects, happened, then he has words he wants to say - many, many words - of caution and anger. Of it not being smart on anyone's part to repeat past mistakes.
"Danny," Steve says, gritting his teeth and squeezing the steering wheel, "don't bring up Catherine's name again, OK? She's gone."
Danny looks to his left, trying to read Steve, uneasy again. Why is he referring to her as "gone", when not that long ago, they were together for almost a month in Montana, after she took time from her work to come help them capture Joe White's killer? As far as he knows, they parted on amicable terms, right? Does he detect a renewed anger or agitation in Steve? Or is he simply sad that she left, once again, to her super-secret missions and mercenary employer? He knows she will eventually return, if he ever needs her to (or if she needs him, Danny thinks with annoyance). "Is all this reaction because of Montana? You knew she would eventually leave, Steve…" Muttering to himself, but just loud enough to be within his partner's earshot, he concludes, "She always does."
Steve breaks suddenly, veering to the curb, bringing the car to a halt. He sighs, hands still gripping the wheel, and turns to Danny, making an effort not to be rude. "Danny, please don't go there again, OK? I'm trying… I'm trying to balance myself after all the crap that I've gone through in the last few years, and you bringing up my failures does not help. OK?"
Steve's words only serve to confirm what Danny had already suspected. Something else went down. But he also understands that Steve is having a hard time dealing with all that's happened in recent weeks, so he backs off. "I'm sorry, man. I went too far. I just want… need you to be OK. You're not only my partner, but also my best friend. I love you, man."
Steve dismisses him, annoyed. "It's all right, Danny. Let's just navigate the rest of the day, OK?"
When the two men reach the Palace, Tani lets them know that Kaikane Kahele is waiting to speak to Steve. The man is terrified about helping, not wanting to follow his brother's fate and doesn't offer any further information that may help the investigation. Frustrated, Steve goes back to his office to browse the incident report of the bombings and Danny remains in the bullpen, pensive, eyeing Steve from the corner of his eye, until he hears Tani's distant voice.
"Danny? How's the boss been? I'm kind of worried about him…"
"He's on edge, jumps at you at the smallest thing, hasn't been sleeping well, from what I can see, has stopped swimming in the mornings… something's happened. Something big. And with Steve, BIG usually means Wo Fat, Doris… or Catherine. Since I genuinely hope that Wo Fat is definitely dead, that leaves the two 'Cocaine Import Agency' spooks," Danny concludes, not really realising who he's talking to.
"Wow, you really love the pair, don't you?" Tani says, raising her hands and shrugging her shoulders, to signify that if Danny doesn't want to answer, she won't resent him for it.
"There's too much painful history between Steve and either of them… so I think it's best for him if they stay gone."
"Maybe he doesn't think so, ever think of that?" Tani goes on, serious.
Danny now turns his full attention to the younger member of 5-0, amused at her insight in a case she knows so little about. "Yeah, Tani, I've been thinking about that non-stop for the last couple of days, and it's not a happy thought. As it is, there's not much we can do. Doris has disappeared without a trace and she doesn't want to be found, and Catherine… well, you know, basically the same thing," Danny sighs, torn. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. "They're one of a kind, two peas in a pod. A rotten pod."
"Come on, Danny, you're being unfair. When the Boss needed her, she dropped everything and came immediately, right?"
"Yeah, you're right," he begrudgingly admits. "The problem is the emotional whirlwind she leaves behind when she disappears, afterwards."
Tani wants to ask more, but doesn't. After all, Steve's personal life if not her business, however much she likes him. And Danny is not her confidant. She'll make sure to ask Adam later. Turning to the work table, she busies herself for the next half hour with trying to find any other lead on the bombing case.
January 31st, Thursday
5-0 Headquarters
1023 Hours
While the new case is ongoing, Steve gets a call from security downstairs, telling him that a Mr. Kaikane Kahele is there, requesting to see him. Intrigued, as he'd really thought that the wouldn't be able to extract any more information or cooperation from the man, he asks the security guard to bring him up and decides to meet him at the elevator doors. He really needs a win, right now, so any information, any memory, anything Akumu's brother can share with them, is a win. He doesn't want to be pushy, and he really doesn't know if Kaikane is the type of brother who would want to avenge a sibling death by being forthcoming with information about possibly shady dealings. He needs to be patient; his is a task that doesn't reward haste and yet he can't tarry too long.
As it turns out, Kaikane does have new intel, and quite a lot of it; he remembers the place where his brother picked up the bombs from the biplane, a few days before the bombings and shares some more details on how Zahed came to meet him and hire him to do the dirty part of the job, as well as the location they used as headquarters while on the island. He offers the team a list of names, of men who used to hang around his brother, and who may have helped; given that he was not involved, he has no way of knowing which of them his brother recruited.
After lunch, Steve and Danny are en route to Halawa, after having stopped by Kamekona's truck for lunch and tried to find some information on the men on the list. With a promise of quick news, they leave the entrepreneur to his important task and head to the prison to question a man who, although not on their list, is related to someone who is.
But both men are met by a seasoned jailbird, a whopper of a native Hawaiian, accustomed to law enforcement antics and well aware of Five-0's fame. He gives them nothing, not even when Danny tries to bate him into disclosing anything about a cousin whose name is on their list. Not even the promise of improved living quarters or better commissary sways the man into giving them any information that may help. Steve considers requesting his transfer to the rendition room at Five-0 headquarters, but one long, hard look at the man, and he knows it would be pointless. So he decides to change tactics. He tells him everything he knows about the bombings and how his own cousin is involved. How he will chase him down and make sure he ends up next to him, in Halawa. How he'll make sure the cousin's family will suffer and how his children will know what their father was guilty of. Even Danny is surprised at Steve's icy cold voice; eerie and detached, it makes him sound more dangerous than usual. Dismissing the fleeting thought and classing it as tiredness from the recent long hours, Danny is surprised by a breakthrough – the man's bravado starts to falter and he seems genuinely concerned for his relative's family. Realising he's in an ingrate position, he agrees to talk, in exchange for a review of his parole hearing date. Steve doesn't hesitate. He wants to know exactly how the men brought the explosives onto the island – who provided them with the plane, who was on land to take charge of the explosives, where they were stored, who else helped and where they are. The man doesn't know a whole lot, though, merely that his cousin seems to have favoured other shores to O'ahu since the bombings and that he's been hiding in Maui ever since.
From Halawa, Steve and Danny head to Kamekona's. The big man is still trying to plow the underworld of crime for intel on the list, but Steve wants something else – his bird in the air, headed for Maui, after having received a call from Duke with information on Akoni Aukai's possible location. Although annoyed at Steve's unwillingness to pace himself, Danny decides to shut up and go with the flow. He has the distinct feeling that if he says anything, Steve will bite his head off. He also gets the feeling that Steve needs this win, so he gets in the helicopter, straps himself in, shuts the door and prepares for one of his least favourite activities in the world.
Forty-five minutes later, they're met by local law enforcement, with whom they drive to the location suggested by the caged gorilla in Halawa. As it turns out, they're in luck – the man is hiding at the location and comes without putting up a fight. The three men return to O'ahu in silence and after having dropped their prisoner in jail, Steve and Danny get another call from Duke. HPD found the plane originally chartered by Al-Nazri to fly the explosives into the island. With the promise of a call as soon as the crime lab has managed to get any trace or clue from the plane, Steve heads for headquarters with Danny in tow, still in silence. Danny is feeling more and more like Steve's on auto-pilot, using the day's events to power himself, for fear of stopping and breaking down. But he also gets the sense that questioning his best friend again is not the best course of action right now, so when Steve heads for his office and grabs his truck keys, bidding him a quick farewell without even looking him in the eye, Danny waves and bows his head down, pensive and increasingly more worried. Since there's nothing more he can do tonight, he heads home too. Disquieted, but unsure of what exactly he can do next.
February 1st, Friday
McGarrett Home
0715 Hours
After a night where he's managed to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, Steve considers resuming a much loved activity: his early morning swim. The ocean normally manages to both calm and reinvigorate him, a feeling that has long eluded his body and mind. It seems like lately he doesn't know himself anymore; his steps are shaky and his ground wobbly. He's always been a self-assured man, confident and proud, but Catherine somehow managed to deflate his bubble and leave behind a shell of what he'd once been. Steve sighs and thinks that he's not being fair; after all, he's the one who dated another woman for 2 and something years. If that relationship didn't work and he ultimately decided to break things off with Lynn, it wasn't Catherine's fault. She wasn't even on the island - at least, not physically, he thinks, huffing and chastising himself. Feeling devoid of motivation, he takes one quick, disinterested look at his mobile phone, not hoping to find a message from her, and gives up on the morning swim idea, deciding to head for the office instead.
Back at headquarters, he spends most of his morning doggedly going over HPD incident and arrest reports. The afternoon wastes away lazily, as no news reach 5-0 from the crime lab, still investigating the evidence found on the Cessna. Soon enough, it's time to head home. Danny steals a quick glance at Steve's office, hoping to get a sense of what he's planning for the evening and weekend. He's sure that something will come out of his friend's mouth, soon, on why he looks so conflicted and… angry? Annoyed? Hopeless? He can't quite put his finger on it.
But Steve is quietly studying his laptop, as he's been doing for the last four hours and shows no signs of wanting to move, let alone go home. Danny decides to try his luck and bravely heads in the way of Steve's office. The door opens so quietly, or Steve is so engrossed in his reading, that Danny's words elicit no reaction. "Hey, Steve…"
A thought fleetingly crosses Danny's mind. Is Steve angry at him? For his continuous twenty questions? He enters the office fully, releasing the glass door and letting it slowly and quietly close behind him. "Steve?"
The other man finally looks up from his reading, seemingly startled by how close Danny has managed to come without his notice. "Danny? What is it?"
"Time to call it a day, buddy, come on. Let's go out for drinks, how about it?"
Steve looks back to his computer, sighing. "Not really in the mood, Danny. You guys go. I'll come with some other time, OK?"
"Come on, Steve… It'll do you good… relax and unwind. Besides, everyone's been waiting for you to come back to breathe again, to go celebrate our win. You can't deny them that?"
Steve relents. "Fine, I'll come, but I won't stay long. One beer, OK?"
Danny smiles, happy at the easy banter he can introduce into the conversation. "What, you JUST got back, is this you being cheap again?"
Steve looks at his friend, sad and doesn't take the bait. "It's not that, Danny. I'm just not really in the mood to socialize."
Danny looks at his friend, increasingly more concerned, but says nothing. The rest of the night goes by without any further incident, but everyone quickly picks up on the fact that Steve is different. More melancholy, sadder, quieter but unsettled, eyes longingly searching for something. By the end of the night, they're all convinced something more than he let on, happened, but everyone is not sure how to broach the subject with their leader, so they let it go. For now. And they're all fully aware that it'll fall on Danny – or maybe Lou - to extract, from Steve, what happened. No one else will dare ask.
February 2nd, Saturday
McGarrett Home
0935 Hours
Early next morning, remembering they're both off, Danny comes by Steve's place early, with a box of malassadas and the hope of the offer of coffee and a conversation. He rings the doorbell, but there's no answer, so he circles round to the back of the house and finds Steve looking into the expanse of ocean in front of him, sitting down on one of his Adirondack chairs, Eddie at his feet. He calls out to him, but Steve doesn't answer, absorbed in thought, so Danny simply drops the box on the porch table and walks down to the beach, sitting down on the chair opposite him.
"Good morning, sunshine."
Steve breaks out of his reverie, surprised at Danny's presence, once again. For a SEAL, he sure has been dropping the ball, lately. "Morning, Danny. I didn't hear you come in." He says it more for his own benefit than to criticize his friend. As if that would ever work.
"Yeah, well, I knocked and knocked. There was no answer, so I decided to walk out back."
"Sorry, Eddie here was too busy digging holes in the sand to hear the doorbell." It's the first smile Danny has seen come out of Steve's mouth since he got back.
"Steve, are you OK?"
"Huh?" He finally looks Danny in the eye. "Sorry, buddy, I was just lost in thought. How have you been? Grace and Charlie? Rachel?"
"Oh, no, no deflecting. I want to know what is going on! And they're fine, you'd know if they weren't."
"Nothing's going on, Danny. I'm back. Everything's fine."
"Steve, you look different. Please tell me what happened."
"Danny, again, nothing happened. I don't really want to talk about it."
"So there IS something to talk about?" Danny asks, happy to have caught his friend in a little white lie. Maybe now he can start to unravel the story.
But his insistence makes Steve angry, and he lashes out at his best friend. "Look, Danny, you take care of your life, I'll take care of mine, that's two different buses, OK?"
Surprised by the violence of Steve's words, Danny raises his hands in surrender. "Woah, buddy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, I'm just worried about you."
Chastised, Steve faces Danny, finally looking at him. "I'm sorry, Danny. I'm just dealing with some stuff that I don't want to talk about, and I'm not in a really good place, right now, OK? Can we just bypass this whole conversation?"
"Sure," Danny shows no signs of being hurt, instead sitting back on the Adirondack chair. "I brought some beers and malassadas, how about we just sit and enjoy the view?"
"Beer and malassadas at 10 in the morning?" Steve smiles, thankful for his friend's understanding. "Drunk and diabetic at day break. That would actually be perfect."
And they sit for an hour, in complete silence, the sea just below them laving the shore with small, agitated waves, before Danny has to leave to go pick up Charlie from Rachel's. Danny's feeling more and more unsettled at Steve's behaviour, but decides to bide his time, hoping his best friend will eventually open up. When that will be, he has no idea. And he doesn't like it one bit. A few hours later, he gets a call from Lou.
"Hey, Danny, so, how is our boy?"
Danny sighs, struggling to pinpoint exactly what he felt at Steve's place. "I really can't tell… he seems OK, but he doesn't sound OK at all. I guess that's the best way to describe it."
"What do you mean?"
"He's on edge, like really wound up. He almost bit my head off when I pressed him for details of what happened in Afghanistan. And considering he's been in many war scenarios, I can't imagine what made him come home like that. It's like he's suffered some kind of trauma, you know?"
"Did he say anything more?" It's Lou's turn to get worried.
"No, not really… I stayed for a whole hour and we didn't exchange a single word. He just sat there, drinking his beer and contemplating the horizon. It was actually creepy. He was there, but it was as if he wasn't. Or as if I wasn't, whichever way you choose to look at it."
"What the hell?"
"Yeah, I'm actually getting more and more worried about him. I need to get him to talk to me. I'll give him a few days to process whatever happened, then I'll try again."
"Is he coming back to 5-0 on Monday?"
"I guess… he didn't mention taking any more time off to me, so I expect so, Lou. The Governor told him to go see the department shrink, so I hope he goes. Soon."
"Well, I'll try to go by his place tomorrow."
"Talk to you tomorrow."
"Yeah, give my regards to Renee."
"Will do, bye."
Danny disconnects the call, and goes back to his pensive state. As far as he knows, no one Steve cares about died recently – or was injured – to warrant such a reaction, such withdrawal from his usual self. Making a mental note to ask Junior to keep an eye on him, Danny falls asleep on the couch watching his beloved Jets.
Author's Notes
Hello, lovely readers, Happy Holidays!
I meant to publish a new chapter before or around Christmas Eve, but writer's block has been murder. Still haven't managed to write more than half the next chapter, which is truly frustrating, but figured maybe, just maybe, if I publish this one, then I'll force myself to go back to the next one (I may go back to this one tomorrow and change small bits, I need distancing from it, but really want to publish now!)
Hope you are all doing lovely! I am sorry for having disappeared – and for making many of you think that I had given up on my story (to the reader who commented that she thought the story had ended with that sad goodbye, would I ever do that to the lovely readers? ;-)
Life happened, work too, and coupled with that, the funniest thing. I don't watch a lot of TV nowadays, but did when I was younger (and there were far fewer channels on TV). And in 1989, as a teenager, I watched what I normally class as "the soap of my life". I was so obsessed with it, that during its broadcast, I traveled with my parents for a whole fortnight. And since I had taken to recording every episode (on VHS tapes!), that was a huge, huge problem. I had to get the building janitor to go into my parent's home every three days and actually exchange the tapes on the VHS player to make sure I didn't miss a single episode (yes, I watched them over and over again, such is the power of TV!). One day, my dad probably ran out of tape and decided to reuse one of mine. Smack, bang in the middle of one of the most important scenes, when the heroine kills the mother of her boyfriend in self-defense! (Imagine the drama, and I had never watched the episode until a month ago, because, of course, in those days, there was no way to watch anything again). About 2 months ago, I was browsing TV channels and ended up on the network channel that had originally broadcast the episodes. And what do you know? They had started broadcasting it the day before! Talk about coincidence. So what did I do? I went online and tried to find out if YouTube or any other such place had… you guessed it! All the episodes, so I could binge watch them. No such luck, but then…. I found ALL episodes, neatly recorded from VHS (very decent quality, too!) on MEGA. I downloaded them ALL and spent 2 weeks watching all 203, 35-minute episodes. It was a rare pleasure. It was great to go back to that wonderful, very well written story and get re-acquainted with all those characters. So… after that, I needed to detox the thing. I needed to stop thinking about the characters, the story, the magic (oh, yes, the magic was back as strong as ever, go figure, it really was THE story of my life!). It took me this long to detox, to be able to get my mind back on H50 and out of the other place. Because if I don't think of Steve and Catherine, and the H50 universe, I can't go back to writing about it. I need to be "in the zone". Anyway, that's my excuse – and I was also deeply entertained by XOMaggieWrites' story. I hope you all enjoy the return of this long and winding story. Can't promise to update again very soon, but I will try to get back to it more often.
Hope you are all well. Stay safe, please. Wear a mask, wash your hands, don't go in crowded spaces with little to no ventilation. Remember, the vaccine does not help much until we reach group immunity, so all cautions still apply. The 'crazy twenties' are just around the corner. Just be patient for a little while longer. ;-)