Chapter 3

They had a decent breakfast – though it was without grass-fed butter, but it was mostly eaten in silence. Steve thought about what might have brought him here or better at what point exactly he had entered the spiral downwards – when he had lost control of his life. "Maybe the better question is if I ever had the control"? he asked himself.

Catherine watched him carefully, concerned with him being constantly absent or in deep thoughts.

"I can hear you thinking", she said. He was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts and looked like he had noticed her sitting at their table for the first time. "Sorry", he said.

"Hey, we've been over this, remember? No more "I am sorrys". I know you have a lot to process, but I don't want you to do this constantly, especially not when you are eating."

"The apology wasn't about me thinking, it was about zoning out on you. And that is part of the problem I can't stop thinking if I am not busy, I have to know what happened, what am I gonna do, what…what…" his voice got louder with every sentence and his demeanor more and more agitated.

"Fuck, I have no idea what is going on. My head is spinning with thoughts, I am always anxious that something is going to happen. I can't, I just…" "Shh", Catherine interrupted putting her right hand on his left, "I know. Come on, try to take deep breaths and calm down a bit. There is no use in getting a heart attack on top." She meant that as a joke and smiled at him, but it didn't get through to him. He was embarrassed getting agitated like this in public. He looked on the floor again, closed his eyes and tried to get his bearings.

When he finally did, he stood up, left the breakfast room without a word, still embarrassed about what just happened, and that Catherine had witnessed it. Yeah, sure it isn't weakness to be burnt out and not having control of your emotions and Catherine had seen this vulnerable side of him more often than you can count one hand, but still….

On the way up to their room his agitation increased again, he slammed the door shut and went into the bathroom. He stared into the mirror and looked at his reflection. He really eyed his complexion for the first time in weeks maybe months. He looked pale in comparison to his usually tanned skin, he had dark circles around his eyes and the eyes themselves as well as his cheeks looked sunken and haggard – at least to him. "Who are you? And what did you just do? Losing it in a room full of people? Humiliating Catherine on top. You are a moron. Yeah, Danny is right. You are a Neanderthal animal." His already existing anger changed into burning rage now, he wanted to punch something and inhaling deep he balled up his fist, reached back and instead of punching his face in the mirror he aimed for the wall next to it and hit it – hard.

The pain flared through his fingers, then his hand, his arm till it reached his shoulder. He cried out, made a half-turn, leaned against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the tiled floor.

The moment he drew his arm back Catherine showed up in the door frame and seeing what he was up to she screamed "No! Don't." But she was too late. She heard his fist connecting with the wall, his cry afterwards and the faint sound when his back hit the wall right before he was sliding down.

He pulled his knees to his chest, hunched over and put his arms around his legs holding his aching right hand with his left.

Catherine, still in the doorway, just stared at the scene in front of her like she couldn't believe it.

All of a sudden Steve straightened up and hit the back of his head against the wall and again and again. That brought Catherine back to life. "No! Steve! Will you stop already?"

She kneeled before him, placed her hands on either side of his head, holding it steady, working against his movements, preventing his head from hitting the wall again and repeated calm but determined "Stop. Just stop. Steve, stop."

When he finally did, he tried to focus on her, but his eyes were brimming with tears which were about to well up again.

"What's wrong with me? I don't know me anymore. Catherine, help me", he pleaded in a voice choked with tears. "Help me."

"I will, I will, come on, let's get you up first." "I can't," he whispered. "I can't".

Catherine got a bit angry at first about his childlike behavior, but then she thought better of it and sat beside him. She had seen him becoming vulnerable before, but this…never ever had she imagined something like this could happen. 'I should have known something was up. Steve leaving Hawaii, his home, his ohana, Danny, Eddie, the beach and the ocean, trying to get away from everything he loved. Why didn't I see through it?' she thought. The moment she touched the floor beside him he turned to bury his face in to her shoulder again. He was still crying and now holding on to her like he was afraid to lose contact. A few minutes passed then the crying became sobbing and his body started to shake with it. She pulled him closer and let him calm down for another few minutes before she spoke again: "Come on Steve. Let's get you up from the floor. Come on." She stood first and helped him to his feet. He just let it happen, let her lead him back to the same couch his breakdown had practically started on yesterday.

"Sit down." When he did, she took his face between her hands again. "Can I leave you hear just for a few seconds? I'm right back, okay?"

He just nodded and Catherine went back to the bathroom to get the first aid kid, then to the bedroom for some Tylenol and back to the "living room" making a detour to the minibar for some water and ice, before reaching the couch again. She knelt down in front of Steve, handing him a bottle of water and two pills.

"Take that. It should help with the pain of your head and probably for your hand too."

She then took his right hand into both of hers and carefully examined it. "Looks like you got lucky, your knuckles are heavily bruised and the wrist is badly sprained, but nothing appears to be broken. I going to bandage it, then you can put some ice on your knuckles."

He still let her do everything without a comment, complaint or sign of approval, he just sat there apathetically. The only reaction was a short and quiet moan when she moved his wrist to bandage it properly.

She passed him the ice pack "here put that on your knuckles." He took it and did what she has said, but he still seemed like he wasn't really aware what was going on around him.

She waited two minutes, giving him some time to gather himself and to let the ice work.

"Steve." No answer. "Steve?" He finally looked up to her, exhaustion evident in his eyes, but at least the tears had stopped to fall.

"I'd say I am sorry, but you've told me not to," he said with a bitter smile. "I really don't know what happened. I guess I just snapped, huh?" He sighed deeply: "Don't think you accept that as an explanation, right?" Pause. "That's what I thought. But…but I have no other. I don't know what's wrong, why I did this, why… it is just…I don't know what to say…or do. I…I talked to Danny about two weeks ago. I told him that something had happened, but that I didn't know when or where, that I felt lost sometimes. I also told him that I felt like I was protecting everybody except myself. He suggested to take some time off to clear my head. That kind of encouraged me to do what I just did and I was looking forward to it, because I thought it would bring some light in all this. But…the day I left and said good bye to Danny I could see how sad he was – even when I told him that it wasn't good-bye forever. He even tried to convince me to stay, telling me how beautiful the island is, the beaches, the sand. He told me that he felt like his main dude was leaving him. He almost convinced me to stay. When I was on my way to the house I turned, had a last look at the ocean, the beach and then Danny. Sitting in one of the chairs – alone and hurt- physically and now mentally – I almost stayed. But seeing him physically hurt it also reminded me of one of the reasons I had to leave. Cause everyone in my life is either leaving or lying to me – or both – or gets hurt because of me, my job, my past. So, I just left… and failed Danny – again." His eyes began to water again. "I mean Danny. He is my partner, my best friend, my brother. He helped me through everything, made sure I was okay even in my worst times and I left him – hurt…hurt because of me, my family, my past…because I killed Wo Fat and his wife wanted revenge. She told me she took him, because she knew how important he was to me. And what did I do? I hurt him even more, leaving him behind like just some average guy. And for what? To make ME feel better? What kind of a friend am I?" His voice had gotten louder and agitated again. "Tell me, Catherine! Just tell me!" He was yelling now, but he wasn't finished. "How did I get this far?" he asked, then becoming quieter again he said: "Danny…Danny, he flew around the world for me – several times, he was there when you left me out of the blue, he donated a part of his liver to save my life – again. The second time that day and the umpteenth time since we've met each other. He came to Montana to check on me after Joe died and to Washington – after my mom got killed – because he wanted to make sure "I make it back to Hawaii." He was my lifeline through all these years, Catherine. And I wasn't even able to wait till he feels better? I am just a self-serving asshole. How can I ever make up for this?"

"Are you made at me, Steve?"

"What?" he asked confused. "No! Why would I?"

"Because I lied to you. I left you – twice - and although I didn't mean to, I hurt you with that – badly."

"I think you got your reasons. And maybe I deserved that for asking all this favors and giving nothing in return. I just took advantage of you to get my work done. Looks like there is a pattern," he smiled sadly.

"Stop with that crap!" Catherine sad with anger in her voice. "Don't worry, you gave me a lot in return and I didn't do anything I didn't want to. So, what I wanted to tell you is: If you are not mad at me for all the things, I've done to you, why do you think that Danny might be so mad that you have a reason to make amends? You did what you did for your mental health and that means for your general health as well. Do you really think Danny is that superficial that he doesn't see that? Of course, he is sad, because he misses "his partner, his best friend, his brother" but that doesn't mean he didn't understand. You are a great friend and person Steve McGarrett. To a lot of people. Don't ever forget that."

"Yeah, sure…I think I take a nap." He stood up and went to the bedroom.

Catherine stayed were she was, thinking about what she just heard, trying to process how deep this goes – 'very', she thought.

Fifteen minutes later she got up and went into the bedroom, looking at Steve who was lying on his left side, facing away from the door, his bandaged right hand beside his head, pretending to sleep.

She climbed on the bed, lay down beside him, but left a few inches between them.

"Hey, I know it is hard but…", she started.

"Can you just hold me?" he asked, voice on the edge of breaking.

It took Catherine a moment to register what he had just asked, then, without saying anything she closed the gap between them and put her arms around his waist. Ten minutes later his breathing evened out and he was asleep und just like the night before Catherine comforted him every time a nightmare was about to come up which made him still almost instantly.