February 17th, Sunday
McGarrett home
1010 hours
Danny comes by Steve's place with a 6-pack of Longboards and hopes of a sincere chat. He knocks on the door, but there's no answer, and even Eddie's furious sniffling is absent, so he rounds the side of the house and finds Steve sitting by the edge of the water, on his Adirondack chair, contemplating the ocean. It does not escape Danny's notice that his friend doesn't seem to have partaken of the joys of sea bathing anytime recently and it saddens him, since he knows how much Steve loves to swim. Eddie, on the other hand, is amusing himself with digging holes in the wet sand and barking at them, once they fill with water. Steve seems to be oblivious to the scene playing out in front of him; in fact, he seems very far away, lost in thought. Danny walks closer, coming into Eddie's view, and the dog sprints in his direction, happy to see him. Clearing his throat, Danny takes the empty chair next to Steve, sinking the 6-pack into the sand, all the while petting Eddie.
"Hey, buddy, this is nice."
"Good morning, Danny, yes, it is. My little slice of paradise." He looks happy enough, but Danny knows better.
"Is it, though?" he lets slip, regretting it immediately, not wanting to start with the twenty questions right away.
Steve finally looks at him, still a little lost in his thoughts. "What do you mean?"
"I'm sorry, Steve, I didn't mean to be pushy – again, but…"
Interrupting him, Steve huffs, smiling. "It's what you do Danny. It's how you are. It's how you show people you care."
"No, I mean it. This morning, I decided to come by and just hang out with you. Obviously, that means no questions, no snide remarks, no sarcasm, no quips. I just wanted to hang out with my brother, that's all."
Steve smiles, looking sideways. "Thank you, Danny, I appreciate your concern."
"I know you do, man, I know you do."
Steve looks away again, at the expanse of ocean before him and takes a deep breath, making up his mind. "Can I ask you something?"
Danny eyes him suspiciously, wondering if this will have anything to do with whatever is going on with his best friend, hoping it does. "Sure. Ask away."
"I don't mean to pry, or anything, but… how are things between you and Rachel?"
Surprise etched on his face at the unexpected question, Danny looks away, trying to think of how to respond. "Wow, I was not expecting that…"
"Sorry, Danny, I just thought of her. Are you guys trying to work it out, or…?" He leaves the question unfinished, not wanting to finalise the thought.
"We've been talking, lately. I guess we're both older, more mature, I think we've learned to communicate more effectively. And I've let go of some of my anger towards her. I'm trying – though it's very hard – to NOT react impetuously every time she says or does something I don't like. It's actually improved our interactions a lot."
Steve looks at Danny, a smile on his face. "I'm really happy to hear that, Danny. I know you still love her."
"Woah, hold your horses there, pally, I never said that," and he emphasizes the complaint with his typical hand gestures.
"It's me, Danny. Deny it to my face, if you can," but the kind smile is still plastered across his face. It seems it's easier to ask others to acknowledge their love of a woman, than to admit it to oneself, or do something about it.
Danny sighs, defeated, but not really sorry for being ousted. "Yeah, OK, to you I'll say it. I still love her. She's the love of my life, Steve and I'm really happy we're getting a second, or third, or fourth chance to work out our differences and try to get back together. I've tried dating and all, you know, but I always felt that there was something missing within me. I could never get back that feeling I experienced when Rachel and I were together. Of course, I fooled myself into thinking it was because I was older, and any other woman that came along would also be more mature, and so that all-consuming love would never return… then I told myself that all women are different and our feelings for them are different, too… but every time Rachel and I were on speaking terms, and especially these last couple of years, every time we got together, to take Charlie to the park, or to go to a school function, I got that exhilarating feeling back. I never thought I'd ever feel it again, and I did. When I see her, my stomach flutters. I have an out-of-body experience where I see myself reaching for her waist and kissing her on the lips, and it's the best feeling in the world. So I need to acknowledge my own feelings and understand where she's coming from, be more understanding. And more available. That was out main problem, when we were married. Though she still worries about the job."
Steve stares at Danny, stunned surprise plastered all over his face. Never, in a million years, would he have expected to hear the words that just came out of Danny's mouth, be uttered by him. Danny ends his monologue and breaks out of his spell, eyeing Steve with humour. "Bet you never thought you'd ever hear me talk like that, huh?"
Steve swallows, shaking his head. "Wow. That was just… wow."
Danny chuckles, amused. "Turns out I've been doing a lot of soul searching, lately. Therapy has helped."
"Therapy?" and he nearly chokes on the word.
"Yes, Steve, therapy. It exists for a reason and those who are too prejudiced against it, are fools," Danny looks pointedly at his best friend. "I never would have admitted certain truths to myself without the help of therapy, nor would I have changed some of my ways. I still am in the process of changing, really. It's done me a world of good."
"Well, I never…"
"Just goes to show, I will always have the power to surprise you. Maybe you'll mock me a bit less, from now on."
"I don't mock you!"
"Sure, talk to the hand, 'cause I ain't listening." Danny looks away, in an exaggerated fashion, shoving his open hand in Steve's face. "And what's with the beard, anyway?" he says, looking mildly disgusted and waving his hand around. "You haven't shaved since you returned home, why? Just lazy, or afraid you'll lose the respectable look it affords you?"
"Danny, if beards warranted respect, goats wouldn't have horns." He grabs a Longboard and sits back in his chair, amused, deciding not to shave in the foreseeable future.
February 19th, Tuesday
Wahiawa
0815 hours
5-0 swarm a modest suburban Wahiawa house, the last known address of Alani Kealoha. Instead of what they expected to encounter – something akin to a drug den - they find a young boy, barely 16, sleeping in a cot, inside, and the rest of the house empty. Clearly, no one's lived in this house in a long while, which begs two questions: where did Alani live and what is the unknown man doing there? As the team explores further, they discover an impressive hoard of weapons and explosives in the basement, pointing to the boy's job in all this: this place is being used as a stash house and he's been guarding it. Despite a quick interrogation, he discloses nothing to 5-0, and Steve has him transferred to the interrogation room at Iolani Palace.
In the bullpen, Tani and Quinn discover that the man who owns the house – William Prentiss – has, over the years, graduated from a simple street-level drug dealer to an organized crime kingpin who's been linked to extortion and theft and accused of meticulously planning and premeditating abductions, kidnappings and murders. Sensing this new information may also tie in with 5-0's bombing case and, consequently, Special Agent Curtis' informant case, he gives him a courtesy call and invites him to sit in on his interview with William Prentiss.
Two hours later, both men arrive at Iolani palace; one arrives alone, curious, while the other comes accompanied by his lawyer, a $1,500 an hour shark that has crossed Steve's path on numerous occasions, in court. Steve turns to Special Agent Curtis after settling both lawyer and client in the visitor's office.
"What does the FBI know about this guy?"
"Figures himself as the rightful and moral heir to 'the Hawaiian Syndicate', you know, the mobsters who ran the island 50 years ago. Went from being a street-level thug in Kailua to living in a multi million-dollar home overlooking Spitting Cave, in Portlock. It sure wasn't the result of an honest living. Nowadays, he's known for throwing money around to get what he wants and paying off prospective witnesses to do away with his problems with the law. We have plenty on his activities, but he's smart. We've never managed to make any accusations stick."
"Regardless, the house is in his name. Why? Why not have it buried under shell corporations and fake accounts to evade discovery? Why the slip up?"
Special Agent Curtis shakes his head. "Not a slip up, Commander. When it comes to the law, he can't be totally devoid of property or wealth. He gets too many benefits from the State to rent homes to the poor of that community. And, in turn, he finds people to sell drugs for him, who wouldn't dream of narcing him to the cops. It's a 'them against us' kind of scenario, you see."
"And the boy?"
Curtis shrugs his shoulders. "Probably knew what he was doing, despite his age. These kids, nowadays, fancy themselves criminals, but the glorified life of crime never turns out the way they expected."
"We found guns and explosives in the basement. That's why I called you."
Raising his eyebrows, the FBI man looks towards the office, momentarily locking eyes with Prentiss, before looking back at Steve. "Now that, I did not expect. That I would call a slip up. Our intel says the house has been vacant for months, I checked before coming. Now Mr. Prentiss, there…" and he motions with his thumb behind him, not looking back again, "is knee deep in organized crime, with disturbing reports surfacing of victims tossed in incinerators, hacked with axes, blow torched… He's a violent man, reckless. Maybe even a little bit crazy," he pauses, for dramatic effect. Steve smiles. "Organized crime has always been around, but lately, it's been quieter, surfacing periodically through large drug busts, moves against international gambling rings and sporadic violence. Remember the January 2004 shooting of three men in the parking lot of Pali Golf Course?"
Steve shakes his head, explaining. "I was still on active duty, then, probably on a carrier in the middle of the ocean."
"That was reportedly Prentiss's doing, settling score for a drug deal gone wrong. Crimes have changed with technology, and investigative techniques have grown more sophisticated, too. The old mobsters, the grotesquely violent people who were cold-hearted killers, are gone. Nowadays you have a smart, savvy criminal like Prentiss in charge, with his hand in a lot of pies – from illegal gambling to drugs and prostitution. And he knows where the bodies are and he's had someone else bury them. And they're all loyal to him, because they know that if they accuse him, their mother, or aunt, or sister will be raped and murdered the next day."
Steve nods, the familiar story tiring him. He still has to go interrogate the man and he's not looking forward to it.
"In the 80s, drugs smuggled into Hawai'i came from California, Mexico, Southeast Asia, Colombia, Brazil… even the Hell's Angels used to come hide in Hawai'i when they were wanted up on the Mainland. You go down to Puna, nobody'd find you. Then, there was the yakuza."
Steve thinks of Adam, away on the mainland ever since he came back. It seems an entire world revolution has happened within him since they last saw each other. Special Agent Curtis' voice brings him back to the present.
"There were a couple of adult video bookstores in Waikīkī where you couldn't even get in without a Japanese passport, because there was a secret room in the back where they performed live sex shows. The Yakuza's involvement in Hawai'i has ebbed, but illegal gambling houses, the bread and butter of organized crime in Hawai'i for Prentiss and other crime bosses, seem to be on the rise again, more violent than ever. Add to that credit card scams worth millions and the help of the global economy, mail, internet and other delivery services, that have made it easier for more factions to sell drugs and broker sex, and it's easy to understand why the old organized crime syndicates lost control of drugs and prostitution. To men like Prentiss."
"Seems we have our work cut out for us, Agent Curtis. What's his connection with Eddie Friske and Alani Kealoha, apart from her having lived in one of his houses?"
"I see you're thinking of your bombing case, Commander. Once he was done with her, Prentiss passed her on to Friske. They were business partners at some point, but that connection ended when Prentiss threw him under the bus and took control of Wahiawa. Ewa forest has been his hunting ground for years."
February 22nd, Friday
McGarrett Home
2115 hours
After a grueling week where he even had to postpone his appointment with Dr. Alana, Steve heads home after ditching Danny and his suggestion to have a beer or two. He wants the quiet and the dark to allow him some time to lick his wounds. He's tried not to think of Catherine or the fact that her reply, however meager he by now expects it to be, still hasn't made its way into his phone. He's at a loss of what else to do, but feels something new stirring within him, reminding him daily, with increasing annoyance, that he is worth a reply, an explanation. He only had to take one look at Catherine to understand that the likelihood of her staying in touch was very slim, but he had still hoped. Now that hope is fading, but he knows why he's unwilling to accept her decision – deep down, he doesn't understand it. Didn't, then. Doesn't, now. Nor does he want to. Instead, he wants to know, so, emboldened by this realisation and the fact that he knows he has nothing to lose, at this point, he grabs his phone, brings it to life and looks up her number.
Wavering between hesitation and decision, he finally makes up his mind, annoyed at himself, and clicks on the call sign, closing his eyes. He can feel his breathing become shallower, for fear of missing the desired 'click' on the other end and quicker, helped by the adrenaline pumping in his veins. He hasn't even though of what he'll say, if she answers. This feels like the longest minute of his existence; even in BUD/s, he never experienced anything similar.
All too suddenly, the beeps stop, but no click is heard, and there's no voice greeting him, either. 'That can't be right, the phone only rang, like, 3 times', he tells himself, trying to get a grip on his emotions. He feels as though the disappointment from the past week has been condensed into this moment - made of mere seconds - and thrown violently at his gut, making him recoil. He was right all along – sending a text and waiting a week for an answer is much, much less painful than this. This rejection is immediate and cruel, stirring low in his gut, making him wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow for all that's been lost between them.
He lingers for a few minutes afterwards, staring at the dark screen, hoping irrationally that she might call back; then, he starts to think of what to do, if anything. Should he still send a text, after the courage he's just managed to gather? Considering that she will see the missed call, he may as well say what he wanted to tell her over the phone, right? A jolt of adrenaline courses through his body when he remembers the next best option: her mother. But since he really doesn't know where she may be, or doing what, he's afraid he will alarm Elizabeth Rollins for no good reason, so he decides to postpone that option for a later date. Ditching the option of sending another text, given that his first went unanswered, he bids good night to Eddie and heads up to bed.
March 1st, Friday
Outside Dr. Alana's office
1545 hours
Steve gazes vacantly at the ground, the sky and the opposite houses, stricken by the feeling that his sessions with Dr. Alana are unsettling to a degree that he ever expected. He definitely doesn't welcome the feeling, as it's had the effect of making him look back at his life with a very critical eye and a detachment that are not typical of him. He's a man of action, always on the go, and he'd never really given much credit to all the psychological mumbo-jumbo about past actions conditioning new ones. Or events from childhood and adolescence shaping us in the present. But however much talking about past events has hurt him lately, he also feels a sense of pride at being able to voice and analyse them, even going so far as concluding that some things need to change. In other words, his passage through Dr. Alana's office is having a transforming effect on him, and he knows he'll come out a better man, partner, friend, perhaps son and hopefully, boyfriend, at the end of it.
A few minutes later, having finished his distracted scrutiny and soul searching moment, he proceeds slowly down the lobby of the building, keeping his eyes riveted on the ground, unwilling to make eye contact with passers-by. He wants to clarify something he said in the last session and opens with it, after greeting the therapist.
"I'd like to go back to something you said last time, Doc", Steve says, scratching the back of his head. "Regarding how normal it was that I felt a sick satisfaction at introducing Catherine to my new girlfriend. Fine, I was still very angry at her, but it wasn't an honourable thing to do and to this day, I feel guilty and ashamed that I even felt like that, you know? Sort of vindicated."
"And like I said, Commander, that's a completely normal, human reaction. We want the other person to know that we are thriving, without them, that we have managed to move on and, who knows, find someone better than they had ever been. We need that reaction to balance ourselves out. No shame in that."
"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" Steve smiles, with a huff, making Dr. Alana stare. "Except, Catherine being Catherine, she'd taken time away from her CIA work to come to Hawai'i, on purpose, and let me know that my mother had been incarcerated, in a CIA jail," he stresses, "and that if we didn't break her out, she'd spend the rest of her life, there."
"What? Your mother?" Dr. Alana looks down at his notes, flustered. "Oh, I see, your mother is also CIA?" he looks at Steve, confused.
Steve huffs again, the irony not escaping him, getting tired of the ridiculousness of his life. "Exactly. So, can you imagine the scene? One girlfriend holding a bottle of wine and hoping for a romantic celebratory evening and one ex- coming to tell me my mother had been arrested and thrown in a CIA jail. The woman I was so angry at, justifiably, I thought, had come to help me rescue my mother from jail. And let me tell you, CIA jails are NOT regular jails. Plus, she risked the wrath of her employer, if they found out she'd been the one to help me. She risked everything. For me."
Now Dr. Alana understands why Steve felt so torn about feeling vindicated. "Except your friendship. How did that make you feel?"
"I have no idea," he laughs again. "I just knew I had to go through it, deal with the practicalities of what was happening, like a robot, trying not to think or feel. At first, I resisted the idea of rescuing my mother… she's been 'dead' for the better part of my adult life and AWOL ever since I found out she was alive, so despite being my mother, I had a lot of anger towards her, too. Still do."
Dr. Alana nods, slowly, imagining the situation. "But you went, anyway?"
"Catherine convinced me. Can you imagine that? Told me that she knew me well enough, and that I'd never forgive myself if I let my mother rot in a CIA jail. And she was right, of course. After the op, we went our separate ways, but not before she told me that she knew I was planning on proposing. That was a shocker," he goes on, remembering what he'd felt right at that moment.
The therapist smiles kindly, urging him to go on. "How did she know?"
"Lynn had unwittingly told her, when they were both waiting for me to change and get my gear ready. So, I asked her, on an arid airstrip, in the middle of nowhere, in a hostile country, surrounded by my work colleagues and my mother, what her answer would've been, had I asked."
"Oh?" Dr. Alana asks, surprised, but also wanting Steve to think of the reasons for that curiosity. "Why did you feel the need to ask her that?"
Steve shrugs slowly, looking to the ground. "Figured I'd never have another chance, didn't even know if I'd ever see her again. There was a kind of desperate urgency in me, at that moment. So… yeah."
"Why was it important for you to know?"
"I wanted to know if it had been my fault, or hers. Perhaps I wanted closure."
Dr. Alana looks at Steve and wonders how such a grown up man can have such poor insight into his own life, but says nothing, just stares. "And did she clarify that, for you?"
"Not really. Told me she would've said yes, which did nothing to appease my conscience or still my unsettled heart." Steve looks pained at the memory.
"Wasn't it Shakespeare who once said, 'In friendship, as in love, we're happier living in ignorance than in knowledge'?"
Steve smiles at the bard's words. "In the end, she told me she wished I could find happiness with Lynn and hitched a ride with my mother. I came back with my team and didn't utter a word on the plane back to Hawai'i, I was so disturbed by what she'd told me. But there was nothing I could do, we'd both moved on. I was dating someone else and Lynn didn't deserve a boyfriend who was still pining for his ex-."
Dr. Alana smiles as he looks at Steve, aware of the unwitting cruelness of the situation he's just described. "You went on with the relationship, regardless."
Steve eyes Dr. Alana, hesitating. In the cold, harsh, afternoon light, enhanced by two years' worth of days and nights, his actions do seem callous. "I knew Catherine was never coming back, so I made a conscious effort to make things work with Lynn."
"It should never be an effort…"
"I know, Doc, but in this case, it was. Much appreciated by my partner, by the way. He keeps accusing me of being a monk, of having joined a Buddhist monastery and having taken a vow of celibacy."
"It sounds almost as you started dating this girl because he egged you on, but your heart was never really in it. So… why do it? Just to keep him happy, thinking that you had moved on?"
"The decision to date Lynn was mine," Steve says, half indignant. "I told you already, Catherine was gone, without an explanation, she wasn't coming back. What was I supposed to do? Pine for her for the rest of my life or move on? Try to… I don't know. Make a real effort to try to be happy with someone else, you know, the whole dating concept."
"Not because you were simply tired of being alone? Not because you wanted a woman to share everyday life with? Someone to bed?"
"No, we've been here before, I told you. I've lived alone most all my adult life, I am very used to it. I don't have a need for company, unless it's the one that feels right. And I'm not going to be a prude and say that sex is unimportant, but the satisfaction you get from it also depends on the person you're having it with, doesn't it? I'm not an irrational animal who satisfies his urges with a warm body." Suddenly, Washington comes to Steve's mind in a flash and a pang of hurt mars his features.
"Did you think, at the time, that you'd be able to be happy with someone else?"
"I hoped, yeah. I truly did. You know what they say, ignorance is bliss and hope feeds us," Steve jokes.
"I know you were introduced by a mutual friend, but… why her?"
Steve shrugs his shoulders, unaware of his gesture. "Why not her? Born and bred here, roots in Hawai'i. She was easygoing, happy, worked with disadvantaged youths for the social services and wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon."
"Ah, so a safe choice. Someone you knew wouldn't leave you, unlike Lieutenant Rollins."
Steve is surprised by the incisive words of the man in front of him. "It wasn't like that, Doc…"
"Of course not, not consciously, but subconsciously, maybe. Besides, Commander, you can't predict how a relationship will work out …."
"Yeah, well, I was never as attached to her as I'd been to Cath, so… even if she left, eventually, I wouldn't have hurt the same, no chance of that."
Dr. Alana hesitates with his truth. "Not at the beginning, at least. But down the line…?"
"I don't see that happening, no."
"So you self-sabotaged, basically? Chose someone you knew you wouldn't get attached to?"
"I didn't see it as that at the time, it was more like protecting myself, I think I would've acted the same with any new woman. But I guess you're right, I never gave Lynn the chance she deserved during our relationship. Never opened my heart up to her, not really. Don't get me wrong, Doc, I went out of my way to be a kind, considerate, present boyfriend, as much as the job allowed. We went on adventures, spa weekends, double dates, romantic dinners… everything that normal couples do."
"Out of your way?" Dr. Alana asks, brows knitted together. "It sounds as though you were making it up to her, when a relationship is a 50-50 partnership."
"Look, I'm being unfair on Lynn. She's a great woman. Was a great girlfriend. I'm sure she'll make someone very happy."
"But not you."
"No, not me. Despite my best efforts."
"Do you think you were overcompensating for the real effort you wished you'd made before? Maybe if you had, Lieutenant Rollins wouldn't have left?" Steve just stares, not knowing what to say. "Deep down, were you afraid of forgetting Catherine? Letting her go?"
Steve finds his voice again, adamant. "Oh, I wanted to forget about her, then, I was so angry, I wanted to banish her from my mind."
"And that lasted all of… what? A few months?"
Steve smiles at the man in front of him. "I managed a few uninterrupted days, every now and then. But when I was happy, or doing something that made me feel free, I'd think of her, automatically, before I could shove the thought down my subconscious mind. It was torture. Got to a point where I became angry every time it happened. Made me want to make even more of an effort, with Lynn. Until the day she knocked on my door, in the middle of my date. That was the beginning of the end, as I've said."
"What did your partner think of all this?"
Steve huffs, amused. "Detective Williams is a sarcastic, nagging, angry policeman who had to relocate to Hawai'i from New Jersey because his ex-wife remarried and brought his only daughter here, 'to live in this pineapple infested hellhole', as he calls it. He's a cynical man, but the best of friends and partner. He's become like a brother to me, over the years. We've gone through so much, and always came out the other end. He even donated half his liver to me." Steve ends, looking proud at the therapist.
"A proud achievement, indeed, Commander. Good friends are the best treasures we can hope to amass, in life. They are the family we choose."
"And he's the best."
"So… how does he feel about Catherine? I mean, they worked together, right? She was your girlfriend, he was your partner…"
Steve hesitates, not wanting to be too harsh on either of them. "He was very angry at her, when she left. But she's Ohana. He knows that. He just doesn't want me to go back to her - ever. Hence the constant nagging at me, to date. Before and after Lynn."
"I see…" Dr. Alana smiles, understanding. "And how do you feel about your partner's wishes?"
Steve shrugs, defeated. "I guess there's no chance of that ever happening now, so…"
Sensing sadness and anger again, he changes the subject. "Let's continue, shall we? When was the next time you saw Lieutenant Rollins?"
"After that first time, she came back once more, to ask for 5-0's help in apprehending a known terrorist. This time, Danny was also away – he didn't come with us to Morocco – so another 5-0 veteran was around to take his place," Steve laughs, remembering. "Captain Lou Grover, formerly of SWAT. He was quite annoyed that I was considering helping Catherine. But there was a terrorist on the island, so we had to."
"Is that the only reason? Couldn't she have used the CIA's resources to capture the terrorist?"
"That's what I asked her," Steve smiles again, remembering. "She said that O'ahu was my island, that no one knew it better than me and that I would've been annoyed if she'd come and done everything behind my back. She was right, of course," he laughs again. "I would've been furious if she hadn't gotten in touch."
"If she hadn't contacted 5-0 for the work portion of her stay, or Steve McGarrett, her ex-boyfriend?"
Steve thinks for a moment. "I don't know. I'd never thought about it in those terms."
"Maybe you should, Commander. What percentage of anger would you have felt, if any CIA agent had neglected to ask for your team's help… and what percentage would it have ascended to, if it had been Lieutenant Rollins doing it? Think about it."
"Fine. You're right, I admit it. It would've been much worse, of course."
"At least you're being honest with yourself. But do go on."
"Well, after we captured the terrorist and she left, again, I realised I'd been happier in those short hours of being with her, chasing after a dangerous terrorist, than I'd been in the last few months."
Dr. Alana interrupts Steve. "Why only the last few months? You'd been dating your girlfriend for two and a half years, correct?"
"You know how it is… at the start of a new relationship, everything is new, exciting… then, after a while, you start to really listen to your feelings and take stock of the plusses and minuses. And Catherine's return, this time…" Steve shakes his head, pensive. "Wow. I mean, I felt this happiness, with her, you know? It put everything into question, every single moment I had ever spent with Lynn." Steve looks at Dr. Alana, hopeful that he understands what he's trying to say, without having to use more words. He'd never dare share these thoughts with Danny, because he knows the torrent of angry words that would come out of his mouth, so it's actually liberating to finally be able to put his thoughts into words, letting them roam free in the cosmos, balancing off each other, perhaps to return to his mind in an orderly fashion, fully resolved.
"I know, I've been happily married for 34 years, Commander. I know how the right woman makes us feel." Dr. Alana smiles pointedly, not so much at the thought of his wife, but at the obvious life's truth he's offering Steve.
"Wow, congratulations, that's a feat," Steve replies, thinking of Catherine. "So we talked, in Kaho'olawe, we were alone. Well, almost," he corrects, thinking of their third wheel. "We took an honorary member of 5-0 with us, but we got separated almost upon entering the danger zone, so we were alone for most of the talk."
"And what did you talk about, to make you realise that you missed Lieutenant Rollins?"
"Dating," Steve laughs at Dr. Alana's surprised look. "Crazy, huh? But yeah, dating. She asked if things were OK with Lynn, I asked if she was still alone. Then, for the sake of normalcy, I told her that things were OK with Lynn, she told me she was dating a little bit, but that with her hectic work life, dating was hard. I don't know why, but at some point, I felt the need to downplay the importance of my relationship to her, I got this distinct feeling that Catherine was also lying. Make no mistake, Lynn and I were boyfriend and girlfriend in every sense of the word, but to Catherine… I don't know! I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I had been dating Lynn for 2 years, but suddenly, it felt like such a foreign concept, so I told her that we were taking things slow. Who says that of a girlfriend of two years? 'Taking things slow?' What was I, twelve?"
"Well, maybe in your book, that was taking things slow? After two plus years, you were still each living in your own homes, not engaged or married… I'd call that taking things slow."
"Yeah, well, that was not the idea I was trying to convey. I specifically told her we were taking things slow so she wouldn't think that things were as serious as they were, with Lynn. I consciously lied, I heard the words escape my mouth and I couldn't believe myself! And afterwards, I felt like crap, like a son of a bitch. Like I hadn't honoured that fantastic woman I had in my life. That moment… that moment was the beginning of the end. I tried to forget about it, tried to forget about Catherine, how she'd made me feel, how happy I had been, how I had depicted Lynn to her… but in the end, I couldn't. One night, it just hit me. I was still angry at her, but despite that fact, all I wanted was for her to show up at my door and tell me she was here to stay. Lynn would never make me truly happy, I had tried and failed, and I was being unfair to her and to myself. Then, there came a time when I started to compare her to Cath. Not her, per se, but my levels of happiness and contentment when we were together. So, I realised that I'd rather be alone, for the rest of my life, than settle for less. It took me that long to realise – or to admit to myself, because I guess I had known all along - that Lynn would be less. And it was also not fair on her. She had the right to go out into the world and find the right person for her, you know, the pot to her kettle," Steve says, smiling timidly. "So a few weeks later, before the summer holidays, I broke up with her."
"How did that make you feel?" Dr. Alana again scribbles 'Honourable', realising he'd used that word before on his notes.
"Relieved," Steve laughs again, honest. "For so many reasons, and mind you, this had nothing to do with hoping to get Catherine back. She'd made no mention of wanting to quit the CIA, so there was no hope there. Plus, she was gone again, I had no idea where to."
"Well, she did think you were dating another woman, and for over two years…"
"Meaning?" Suddenly, Steve's stomach flips and he feels uncomfortable.
"You said that you got the feeling that she was lying, when she told you that she was dating a little bit, right? So maybe, in your subconscious mind, there was hope in you. That you might be able to rekindle your relationship. Nothing happened between you two in Kaho'olawe? You were alone, hadn't seen each other in a long time, you missed her, the conversation had veered onto that territory…"
"I'm a one-woman man, Doc," Steve says, almost angry. "Lynn was my girlfriend at the time, I would've never let anything happen with Catherine."
"But something clicked inside you, that day."
"With such clarity, it actually startled me. So, I knew I had to break up with Lynn. It was a decision that made all the sense in the world. Still does."
"And you went back to being alone and having your friends try to set you up on dates," Dr. Alana says, amused, now, trying to lighten the somber mood of the conversation.
Steve smiles, amused. "Something like that."
"Go on, Commander."
"Well, about three months ago, my past came back to haunt me. My former SEAL team was targeted by the son of a terrorist we had taken out in the past, and my former C.O. was killed, as well as the rest of the team. I'd known him since I had been sent away from home by my father, at 16, after my mother's supposed death. He was a second father, to me."
Dr. Alana raises his eyebrows again. How many assassins can a person come across in a lifetime?
Steve smiles sadly, and explains. "I was a SEAL for seven and a half years. You tend to collect a lot of baggage in that department. Really unsavoury characters." Dr. Alana stares, nodding. Steve goes on. "Catherine was the first person I wanted to call, she also knew him very well. So, I picked up the phone and dialed, without thinking. It was a reflex action, but I was in so much pain…"
"Not your partner?"
"No, it was her I wanted. Needed. A mere few hours later, the CIA underworld produced her at my door, in the middle of a ranch in the freezing hills of Montana. Seeing her felt like almost freezing to death in a blizzard, dressed in a t-shirt, and suddenly stumbling upon a cabin in the woods with a lit fire and food in the fridge. I know it's cliché, but… without her, I don't really know what would've happened. She stayed for almost a month, helped me plan the capture of the man who was responsible. And let me tell you, this involved international flying and a few non-sanctioned ops," Steve finishes, smiling conspiratorially at the therapist. "She also helped heal my heart. I think I finished forgiving her then."
Dr. Alana seeks clarification. "Finished?"
Steve looks at him, nodding sideways to signify the obvious. "Remember? I'd started forgiving her on that day she showed up and interrupted my anniversary date."
"But you're still angry, Commander. That much is clear."
Steve sighs, remembering why. "That's another story, nothing to do with Montana."
"Well, we're out of time, for today. Thank you for opening up to me, I think it's going to be very helpful for you. Shall we say two weeks from today?"
Steve nods and bids the therapist goodbye, thinking of the problem that's been torturing him ever since he came back from Washington, the real reason for his anger.