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February 12th, Tuesday

Iolani Palace

1245 Hours

Tani knocks on the door to Steve's office, with a suit in tow. He waves them in, curious, hoping that the stranger does not come bearing bad news – on anyone he knows.

"Steve, this is Special Agent Curtis, from the FBI."

"Good morning, Special Agent Curtis. How can we help you?" As he shakes the man's hand, Tani heads out into the bullpen, excusing herself.

"Commander McGarrett. I'm here because our system flagged down a search your team carried out yesterday."

Now Steve is curious. He raises his eyebrows and remains quiet, letting his visitor get on with his narrative.

"Alani Kealoha."

"Really? Now that is surprising. I thought she was just someone who crossed into the wrong side of the tracks a long time ago and ended up paying the ultimate price."

"Unfortunately it's not that simple. Commander, I'm sure you are very aware that organized crime in Hawai'i is on the rise?"

Steve sits down, urging his guest to do the same. He gets the feeling that this is going to take a while. "Yes, I, too, read the crime reports that HPD sends out every day. The tendency is worrisome, I agree."

"In recent years, crime has rippled through O'ahu like a giant wave, as I'm sure you know… murder for hire, gangland-style slayings, kidnapping, drug trafficking, money laundering, gambling, chemical weapons attacks and more… they are organized, albeit less than a few decades ago. We're talking about a diverse global operation, here, with seemingly upstanding citizens being ousted as veritable crime bosses. One of those crime bosses was a man by the name of Eddie Friske. On the surface, he was just a businessman, but in the underworld, he ran an extensive enterprise sustained by a reputation for violence and intimidation."

"Isn't he awaiting trial for ordering the murder of a competitor? Something about…"

"Exactly, Commander. He had another crime boss' son kidnapped and then offered to exchange his life, for the father's. Then, he killed them both."

"Yes, I remember reading about it in a HPD report. But what's that got to do with Alani Kealoha?"

"She ran drugs for him, at some point. And she also worked in one of his nightclubs."

"As an exotic dancer?" Steve raises his eyebrows, hoping for a confirmation.

"No, the other kind, I'm afraid."

"Why was the FBI interested in a mere prostitute?"

"Because she was our informant. And also Akamu Kahele's girlfriend."

Reaching home, that night, Steve feels truly tired. Mind and body. Some of the information the FBI suit shared is still revolving around in his mind, making him feel uncomfortable with the possible ramifications of the case. He eyes the lanai again, knowing it's a mere segue into his beloved ocean, and decides to head upstairs instead, remembering Dr. Alana's words and how he'd felt at hearing them. In the shower, he begs the hot water to rid him of his thoughts, but all he manages are more unanswered questions, torturing him. Suddenly, he remembers Joe's words, when they were surrounded by enemy fire: 'that girl, Catherine, what's the deal, there? That ever gonna happen? I've seen the way she looks at you, it's very clear the feeling's mutual. What are you waiting for, Steve?' He had tried to deflect the question, but Joe hadn't let him get away with it. He'd given him a perfect description of the woman who already had his heart. 'She's smart. She's pretty. She can assemble a rifle in under 30 seconds in the dark. Not asking her out is a screw-up.' Steve leans into the shower head, letting the warm water massage his back, not caring about his usual three minutes. Then, a sharp pain strikes though his heart with a bolt when he remembers that he can no longer ask Joe for advice; maybe he should cherish the one he got, moments before his second father figure had been shot at by a mercenary. After all, he had seemed contrite and very genuine. 'Steve, don't wait as long as I did to find someone. I sat out too long. I don't want that to happen to you.'

As he's getting out of the shower, his phone rings and he sighs, annoyed, hoping it's not Duke calling him to a murder. He's really not in the mood, tonight. Danny's name lights up his screen.

"Hey, buddy, you got home OK?"

"Hi, Danny. When did I become your girlfriend, for you to come check up on me, huh?"

"You're hilarious, you know that? What makes you think you'd ever be my choice of partner? You're the bane and crux of my existence!"

"I love you too, buddy," Steve retorts, a smile in his voice.

Danny's about to make another sarcastic remark, but it dies on his lips. "What are you up to?"

"Danny, stop checking up on me. I am not a child. You don't need to micromanage me. I'm fine."

"Forgive me for not believing you. You want to come over for a beer?"

"Thanks, Danny, but I have an important phone call to make," Steve answers, imbued by courage he's just managed to find within him.

"OK, I'll see you tomorrow. Don't forget, if you need to talk, I'm here."

"I won't, Danny, thanks. Enjoy your beer. See you tomorrow."

Steve lets his phone fade to black, pensive, as he tries to decide what to do. He really wants to call, hear her voice, and fade away the awkward note on which they said goodbye to each other. Then he remembers that despite having asked her to stay in touch, she hasn't, and it stings. The possibility that she simply won't answer his call also weighs heavily on his mind, that four-headed beast called rejection gnawing at him. At least with a text, he can bear to wait longer for an answer, diluting the sharp pain of being ignored by the days it will take him to realise she won't answer him. A small, simple message, but one that he hopes will open the channels of communication between them again. In the end, he realises that though his intention was some form of levity and 'carefreeness', he's ended up with something akin to light begging.

'Hi, Cath. I know we parted on sad terms, but I need to know you're OK. Please, get back to me. I miss you.'

Flipping the phone down on his nightstand, he lies down and closes his eyes, begging for sleep, angry at even letting the thought of waiting for her answer cross his mind.

Two days later, still no answer. Steve finds himself lounging up and down the pavement outside Dr. Alana's office for a good half hour, debating whether or not to go in. Conflicted, he alternates between his deeply ingrained irrational instinct to not share, and the rational understanding of the benefits he may reap from doing so. And while the former has become a way of life for him, he suddenly startles himself with the realisation that maybe, just maybe, if he tries to change just one little bit, then who knows what positive results may come from it? Especially since not sharing hasn't really brought him that much success, as it turns out. And since he's not really planning on talking about what happened, with anyone else – least of which Danny, no matter how much he begs or kindly tries to goad him into doing so – maybe the therapist can help him make sense of her actions and words. And maybe he's way off – but he really feels that he's missing a part of that story.

This time, Dr. Alana calls him from inside the door after a previous patient – not the leggy brunette - leaves it open. He nervously takes a tentative seat while the man in front of him scribbles down some notes, and looks around him, something he didn't do the first time he was there. Apart from the customary framed University diplomas, behind the physician, Steve can see a few contemporary art paintings decorating the walls. Not only are they in stark contrast to the generic and uninteresting art peppering the walls in the waiting room, but he also finds himself liking the man's obvious personal taste. Bright coloured paintings that appear to have subliminal messages – again, Steve wonders if it's a shrink thing – and, in a corner, a modern interpretation of Venus de Milo, in marble. Distracted by his thoughts, he doesn't acknowledge Dr. Alana when he addresses him for the first time, forcing him to clear his throat insistently.

"So, Commander, shall we pick up from where we left off, last week?"

"I guess," Steve shrugs, half-invested in the process, retreating to his hesitant self.

"How is your sleeping? Any better?"

"Yes, things are a little bit better, thanks," he lies, trying his best to remember where he left the prescription.

Dr. Alana checks his notes, trying to find a way to ease into Commander McGarrett's story without being too blunt. "Going back to where we left it last week… what happened after the wedding of your 5-0 colleague? You heard your ex-"something like that" speaking Pashto to someone and decided not to propose."

Steve smiles at how Dr. Alana remembers his uncommitted shrug. "Lieutenant Rollins, that's her name. Catherine Rollins. I guess I can tell you her name, it makes no difference, now," and his smile turns bitter.

Looking at the man in front of him, Dr. Alana wonders how sad the ending of this story is going to be. Then, he remembers what Steve said about Afghanistan, and smiles. The way her name rolled off his tongue speaks volumes. Maybe there's a chance at a happy ending, and he's a romantic at heart, after all. "Thank you for sharing her name with me, it'll make it easier to imagine her in my mind's eye. What happened then?"

"I didn't propose. That day, I got home and she was waiting for me on the porch, all packed up and ready to go."

"Where?"

"Relief work in Nepal, is what she said. I told her that would take a couple of months, maximum, but she deflected and told me that she needed to build something for herself, on her own terms, that 5-0 was my 'baby', not hers. That she really wanted to be able to be in two places at the same time, but failing that… she needed to go. An ex-boyfriend of hers, Navy and SEALs, too, had died very recently, when they were on a stakeout together, and she felt terribly guilty about it. I guess that also contributed to her need to go achieve something on her own. But, of course, later, I found out she had lied to me. I hate being lied to," Steve adds, through gritted teeth.

"Before we go into that, tell me – did she stay as a friend, when she came back? You mentioned bags and your porch…"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she came home, a year later and didn't even call before coming… had you dated other women in the meantime? It might've crossed her mind that you had moved on…?"

"No, I hadn't dated anyone else." He speaks as though the mere thought is ridiculous.

"Why?" Now the man across from him is clearly annoyed at even having to answer his question.

"Because I was still with her!"

"Interesting… even though you'd hardly talked to each other during all that time?"

"Yes, even though. We were in the Military for a long time, a year is nothing, for us. And absences are something we come to expect and learn to live with."

"So… she shows up on your lanai, after a year, and… what? How did she act? How did you?"

"I was… surprised," Steve says, smiling. "Left me speechless, I was not expecting to find her hiding away behind a tree, holding my towel for ransom. She was clearly ashamed, or embarrassed that she hadn't kept in touch. Tried to apologise, but then just gave up altogether."

Dr. Alana straightens his back and leans forward, eyeing Steve with attention. "How did you feel, right at that moment? Do you remember?"

Steve looks at Dr. Alana and huffs, turning serious. "Like I was hallucinating. Like my biggest wish, for the longest time, had just come true. I mean, I knew I loved her, we'd had complicated moments, before, where I'd realised that with painful clarity, but this was… a truly happy moment, you know? The kind we only get twice or three times in our lives. That was one of mine."

Dr. Alana lets Steve's words sink in, nodding lightly. He remembers such rare moments in his own life and wonders if there are still any left for him to experience. "So, what happened then? Did she stay?"

"Yeah, we were in the middle of a case, she ended up helping, we had to defuse a nuclear bomb, believe it or not," Steve smiles sheepishly at the Doctor, wondering if he should be disclosing this information to him.

"Commander, what I'm trying to ask, and excuse me for being blunt, is if you shared a room while she was in O'ahu."

Steve looks at Dr. Alana, surprised, but he looks dead serious. Wincing inwardly at having to disclose such personal information, he takes a deep breath and goes on. "We did. Well, actually, I thought I'd better offer her the guest bedroom, to reduce the awkwardness of the whole thing. I didn't want her thinking that I was assuming anything. Plus, we really hadn't talked about what she'd been doing for the last few months."

"And did she accept it?"

"The first night, yes. Can't tell you how hard it was not to knock on her door and talk… just talk, you know? Like we used to. But she was severely jet lagged, so she was asleep by 8 p.m."

"And the next day?"

"The day we defused the bomb. It was a life or death situation, so when the wedding got under way, I felt an irresistible urge to kiss her as we were on our way to the dance floor."

Dr. Alana smiles at his patient's candor, feeling the need to reassure him. "The joy of being alive mixed in with the adrenaline of a highly stressful situation makes us do things our normal 'egos' would temper. But our 'id' comes out in full force during those moments. How did she react?"

"She laughed and told me that it had taken me long enough," Steve smiles, reminiscing.

"So she hoped you would start over from where you'd left things, too. After all, you could've asked her to come back on those rare phone calls you had with her, right?"

"Of course not. If she decided to leave, coming back would have to be her decision, too. I wasn't going to beg and run the risk of being told NO."

"I see." Dr. Alana scribbles 'extremely proud' on his notes. "And then, she left. How did that make you feel?"

Steve looks away, pained. "Lost. Angry. Sucker-punched. Like I hadn't been told the whole truth. She said, and I quote: "I need more than what a relationship can give me, right now."

"And you were hurt by her words… offended, even."

"Well, yes. She'd left for a whole year, hardly ever called, and then came back and left forever. It's as though she was grasping for air, with me, like she needed to go find something else that allowed her to breathe! It's not even getting on with life, it was bigger than that. She came back, confirmed that she had indeed been suffocating, and left for good! But I had been suffocating without her! How come she never thought of that? And what kind of half assed excuse was that, anyway?" Steve asks, losing part of his composure.

"You felt you deserved a different explanation, perhaps? If there even was one?"

"Oh, I got an explanation, it just made no sense at all. She threw away a life together, for what? The CIA? The most cunning, deceitful, mercenary government agency known to man?" Steve says, angry irony plastered all over his face.

"You ever think that maybe, for her, at that moment, leaving was what made sense? Maybe she needed to go… for unknown reasons? Or for her own sake, maybe what she said was totally or partially true?"

Steve sighs, uncomfortable. "Well, Doc, you know what they say. Hindsight's 20/20.

Dr. Alana moves on. "What kind of a woman is she? What kind of upbringing did she have? Could those factors account for her actions? Our past is what shapes us, we must delve into it to understand the present and the future…"

"She's a Navy brat. Her father's an Admiral and her mother's a Psychologist. She has two older brothers. She's a kick ass woman," Steve says, immediately regretting his depiction of Catherine. "I mean, she's tough. As tough as they come, but sweet, at the same time. My equal in battle. Really Intelligent. A great professional, in everything she does. She was a stellar Intelligence Officer, received many commendations. Then, she really excelled in 5-0. And, I'd imagine, the CIA recruited her for a reason…"

"Let's talk about her recruitment, Commander."

Steve winces, pained at having to go back to that dark and painful time in his life. "It's very simple. She told me she was headed to Nepal, for aid work, to fly choppers for the Red Cross. A couple of months later, we came across a plot by a foreign national to steal and divulge a list of deep covert operatives working for the CIA. Guess whose name was on it?"

Dr. Alana shows his surprise, this time caught off guard. "I see. What happened, in the end?"

"We managed to get a hold of the list and keep it safe. But I finally knew what she was doing, and it did not make me any happier."

"Because she'd lied to you?"

"Because she was working deep cover for the CIA in the Ukraine! Can you think of a more dangerous job?"

"Even though you just told me she's your equal, in battle?"

Steve looks at Dr. Alana, surprised at his translation of his depiction of her. "I still worry. No one is immortal. I will always worry, that's how I am. I will always want to protect my Ohana."

"You're including Lieutenant Rollins in 'your family?" Dr. Alana tries to sound the least surprised as he can.

"Of course. Just because we're not together anymore, that doesn't mean…"

"Of course, you're right," Dr. Alana says, jotting down 'Loyal to a fault'. "So… after she left, you, what? Did you try to stay in touch?"

"You know how spooks are… never in the same place twice, secretive, no way of reaching them… she had tried to contact me a few weeks before the whole list thing went down, but not after."

"So, you never heard from her again until last week?"

"Oh, no, I did. A few weeks after she left, I decided to erase her contact from my phone. I guess I was trying to sever all ties, you know, force myself to move on."

"I guess that was a hard decision, for you?"

"Very," Steve huffs, annoyed at the levity of the word 'hard', that doesn't even begin to describe what he felt, at the time. "But she was gone, I was going to stay in Hawai'i, I had a job to do. I figured it'd been her choice to leave, so I couldn't wait for her forever. I told her so."

"How?"

"When she told me that she didn't know how long it would take her to get back, I was mad, really mad."

"So, she wanted to stay in touch?"

"Yeah, I guess. But I had missed her like crazy, I guess I was no longer willing to have to go months without her. So, I…" Steve winces and scratches the back of his neck, uncomfortable with what he's about to say. "I told her that if she left, this time, I could no longer wait for her."

Trying to sound neutral, but failing, Dr. Alana whispers, "So, an ultimatum?"

"Yeah," Steve huffs, again, in irony. "And surprise, surprise, she chose to go, anyway. Kissed me on the cheek, told me she'd always love me and left, in tears."

Dr. Alana pauses for a moment, considering the pain the man sitting across from him must've felt. "Why did you put things on those terms? Because… you missed her? You wanted a girlfriend in your life? You were tired of waiting for her?"

"That was not the main reason," Steve stubbornly retorts, but adds nothing more.

Dr. Alana nods, understanding, eyeing Steve carefully. "Because you felt rejected, you were angry. You threw an ultimatum at her, but you never really tried to get to the bottom of what she was trying to say. You thought only of yourself." And this time, Dr. Alana's words carry the sting of reproach.

"How was I supposed to understand what she was saying and where she was coming from… if she never told me what was going on? How?" Steve cries, getting up to pace the room.

"Exactly, Commander, that's what happens when people don't communicate. Don't, for a moment, be naïve enough to think that the situation was created at that moment, or that it was entirely the CIA's fault. Something must've happened to make Lieutenant Rollins feel the need to leave." He lets his words sink in, until Steve sits back down, defeated.

"Even if it did, she wasn't willing to share the reason, at the time. Now, I guess we know why." Tiredness starts to seep into him, again.

"So you were angry at her and decided to erase her number from your contact list."

"That was much later, but yeah, I thought it'd be easier, you know, no temptation to call and hear her voice."

"How did that work out, for you?" Dr. Alana quickly shoots.

Steve laughs, genuinely amused at the older man's insightfulness. "I'd never realised that I knew her number by heart. But I managed to control myself. Never called again. She'd know, anyway, so I didn't want to risk it."

"I see," Dr. Alana says, looking again at his notes and scribbling some more. 'Proud and stubborn'. "And life went on?"

"I was actually sitting next to my new girlfriend, when I erased her number. Lynn – that was her name – was introduced to me by an old acquaintance of my father's, one of the ADAs on the island."

"Oh, so… this new woman in your life WAS a girlfriend?"

"What do you mean, Doctor? Yeah, we dated…" Steve asks, mildly confused.

"I'm just trying to understand what qualifies as a girlfriend, to you… or what the difference was, between Lieutenant Rollins and this other girl?"

Steve tries to put his thoughts into words. "One thing is to date a civilian, from scratch, at 41, another is to date, desire, love, from afar and for years, your own work colleague who was, at one point, your subordinate, in a male-dominated environment, with a boss that seriously discourages fraternization of any kind. Don't forget that unfortunately, in this day and age, women are still the subject of the rumour mill, especially in the Military. I had to make sure that no one had anything to say about us, either to the brass, or between themselves. We learned to be extremely cautious, even on leave, and it became a way of life, for us. No PDAs, no dangerous conversations or professions of love, no touches, nothing that could harm either of us professionally. By the time we were out… I guess we still felt like we were in, you know? You don't change mindsets in a day, or even months." He looks at Dr. Alana, happy that he at least managed to put this thought clearly out in the open. "And then… I guess I felt that "girlfriend" didn't really define her. She was so much more than that. Now Lynn… she was the real girlfriend, you know? Civilian, carefree, psychologist, 9-5 job, never saw action, someone I could get to know slowly and without pressure. Someone who would not leave."

"But Commander, you called this new girl, your girlfriend. I'm sure even you will agree that having that status is way better than being something undefined. Remember your words?" Dr. Alana says, flipping back pages on his notebook. "'Yes, I guess you could call her that'. What happened in the time between Lieutenant Rollins leaving and this other woman showing up in your life? It can't have just been the Military, or you getting used to the idea, I mean, you dated Lieutenant Rollins for how many years? Did you realise that maybe you'd done something wrong, in the first relationship, which you then decided to correct, in the second?"

Dr. Alana's words silence Steve, as he goes through the stages of thinking the man is being way too intrusive, to actually giving him reason. He'd never really thought about this specific topic. "I'd never thought about it that way."

"That's what I'm here for, Commander. To make you look at things from a detached corner, coldly and without bias. That's the only way for any of us to change the things that we feel are not well, in our lives. I'm not trying or going to tell you what it is that you must change – merely question your actions when I believe, through my professional eye, that you may not have acted in your own best interest."

"This is hard," Steve says, half smiling, contrite.

"They don't call it therapy, for nothing… let's keep going, though. So, you moved on. Well done."

"Yeah, I did," Steve beams, proud of his accomplishment. But the next second, his smile turns bitter. "Until the day she found Catherine's engagement ring stashed away in my sock drawer. I managed to navigate that debacle pretty well, I thought, but all those feelings came rushing back. It was really hard to quash them all back down."

"Why?"

"I guess I was still very hurt by what had happened. I guess I still loved her, in some capacity. I was angry, very angry."

"And until you manage to let go, anger anchors you down," Dr. Alana completes, a pearl of real wisdom.

"Exactly. But I managed to deal with it." He's deep in thought, now, so Dr. Alana brings him back to the conversation.

"So… by the time you erased her number, you were already dating this girl."

Steve smiles at the therapist's phrasing of the name of his former girlfriend. "Yeah, we dated for almost two and a half years."

"That's a long time to date… usually leads to marriage or a breakup, long before. What made you hesitate?"

"I guess I could say work… hectic, as always… but I'd be lying."

Dr. Alana appreciates the man's small sliver of insight. It would appear he's given his love life some thought, at least. "OK… then, what?"

"On our first dating anniversary, Lynn and I were having a romantic dinner at home. I'd cooked, which, let me tell you, is a very rare occurrence," Steve explains, amused. Well, if he's being honest, it was always a combination of work and his unwillingness to dedicate himself to cooking. "But I thought I'd make the effort, you know, turn over a new leaf, and all."

Dr. Alana smiles, and writes 'Willing to change'.

"In the middle of our date, I got a phone call from an unlisted number. I deal with a lot of information and get calls from a lot of people, as you can imagine, so it never occurred to me…" Steve hesitates, in his very familiar fashion, struggling to find the words to describe what he felt, at the time. "Guess what, it was Catherine. A few seconds later, there was a knock at my door. Guess who?"

Dr. Alana knits his eyebrows together, now genuinely curious at what happened next. "Yeah, Catherine. She just barged into my date, all business. You can imagine what happened when I let her in and introduced her to Lynn."

"Awkward, at best?" Dr. Alana offers.

Steve huffs. "Yeah, you could say that. And it was at that moment that I felt the true dimension of my anger towards Catherine. I couldn't believe she was there, in the middle of my date!"

"And acting as though nothing had happened between the two of you? That she'd never left without an explanation?"

"Exactly!" Steve raises his voice, feeling all his anger come to the surface. Then, realising he's in the presence of his therapist, he calms down. "Like she hadn't made me suffer like hell, when she'd left."

"Did you tell her that?"

"In front of my new girlfriend? Yeah, right. We briefly talked about it on the plane, but again, no real rehashing of what had happened, just clarification on how her new job had come about."

"How did she react to your new girlfriend?"

"She was surprised, I could tell. She wasn't expecting to find another woman in her place, I can tell you that."

"But, she'd been the one to leave, right?"

"Yeah, but I could never shake the feeling that, somehow, she'd hoped I hadn't started dating again. At least her surprise was genuine. I could see it in her eyes, she was deeply hurt, didn't really know where to look, awkwardly shaked Lynn's hand... Well, here was my chance to show her how angry I was, and for the sake of honesty, I may as well tell you, I felt a kind of sick satisfaction at being able to throw the new girl in her face."

"It's human nature, Commander. Nothing to feel ashamed about."