The silence was almost suffocating as Meg blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Closed curtains blocked out any moonlight that might have illuminated her surroundings. She knew she'd gone to bed with them open. Had Commander McGarrett closed them for some reason?
The sound of feet on hardwood caught her attention, and Meg jerked her head to the doorway. Despite barely being able to see, she knew it wasn't the commander. She screamed, but the figure lifted an arm, and Meg heard a soft click. A second later, a loud bang echoed through the room as she saw a blinding flash of light.
Her body jerked upright of its own according, and Meg let out a soft whimper. She reached over to turn on the light on the nightstand and glance at the clock. 2:43 a.m. Rubbing a hand over her face, she realized she was drenched in sweat.
Why did she have to keep having these dreams?
Slowly shifting out of her bed, Meg examined her sheets. They were a little damp, but if she completely changed them, the commander might notice and start asking questions. Her pajamas, on the other hand, were a lost cause. She made quick work of changing into a dry pair of pajamas, staying as quiet as she could to avoid waking McGarrett.
She felt tired, but she didn't want to go back to sleep. When she'd done that the previous night, she'd just ended up repeating the nightmare. No, Meg was done with horrible dreams for the night.
Pulling up her covers, Meg grabbed her iPad and earbuds before stretching out across the bed. She'd set up a Netflix account the other day under Mary Andrews, before the commander had made it clear she wasn't to use any of those bank accounts anymore. She was sure she could find something to stream to keep her awake.
At 6 a.m. Meg heard the faint sounds of the commander's alarm clock. He'd be up soon, and she didn't want him to realize she'd been up for so long. She quickly closed the web browser and plugged in her iPad to charge. Then, Meg hurried into her bathroom. A glance in the mirror confirmed that she looked as tired as she felt. Oh well, perhaps a hot shower would help her perk up.
Thirty minutes later, she entered the kitchen, dressed for the day in a tank top and a pair of shorts, and made a beeline for the coffee pot. She wasn't a coffee fan, but she needed caffeine. Black tea wasn't going to cut it, and the commander didn't keep any other forms of the stimulant in the house. At least there was sugar and milk to help make it more palatable.
Meg was just sitting down at the table, mug on its way to her lips, when McGarrett entered the kitchen.
"Good morning, Meg."
She mustered a smile as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Good morning, Commander McGarrett."
"I've been thinking about that," he said as he leaned against the counter, mug in hand. "It seems awfully formal for you to keep calling me Commander McGarrett."
Meg nibbled on her lower lip. "What should I call you?"
He offered a gentle smile. "Steve would be fine.."
"Steve…" she tried out slowly. A moment later, Meg scrunched up her face. She wasn't used to calling adults by their first name. "It feels weird."
"You're welcome to continue calling me Commander McGarrett, if that feels more comfortable to you. I just wanted to give you another option."
It was rather considerate of him, Meg thought, to give her that choice. She did think that calling him "commander" all the time felt more like she was in military school. Maybe she could grow more comfortable with using his first name?
"I'll try calling you Steve."
Steve nodded in approval. "So, are you tired this morning?"
She'd hoped he wouldn't notice the slight shadows under her eyes, but Meg played innocent. Instead of answering the question, she tilted her head slightly to the side in what she hoped passed as confusion. "What do you mean?"
The commander arched one brow, though his face remained calm. "You mean besides the shadows beneath your eyes?" It was hard to maintain an innocent expression under his piercing gaze. "I don't believe I've seen you drink coffee the entire time you've been staying here."
Meg shrugged. He didn't seem mad, so maybe if she acted like it wasn't a huge deal, he'd let it go. "Woke up early and couldn't fall back asleep. No big deal."
The statement was technically true, and Steve seemed to accept it. "You can get some more sleep this morning after I leave for work," he decided. To Meg's dismay, he approached the table, reached out and gently pulled the mug out of her hand. "Caffeine will no doubt interfere with that rest, so let's wait until you're more rested first. If you want something hot, chamomile tea would be a better option."
"All right," she reluctantly agreed. Meg had no intention of going back to sleep, but Steve didn't need to know that, especially since he'd be at work a good part of the day. Wanting to change the subject before the commander could make any further executive decisions, Meg said, "So, I was thinking about dinner for tonight…"
"Nope," Steve cut her off. "Danny's coming over again tonight, and we'll pick up takeout on our way home. I don't want you worrying about dinner when you're tired."
Meg frowned. "You said I could cook when I wanted."
"And you're welcome to cook again when you're less exhausted. Getting some rest is your priority for today."
She couldn't hide her frustration as she huffed softly. "If I get some rest this morning, can I cook this afternoon?"
"Dinner isn't up for debate," Steve announced, leaning back against the counter, this time without his coffee, and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm happy to pick up dinner from just about anywhere you'd like, but you are not going to cook dinner today."
Scooting back a few inches, Meg crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at the commander, hoping to make her displeasure known. His expression didn't change, though, and he seemed thoroughly unaffected by her pouting.
When he continued to calmly watch her, Meg sighed. "What about baking?" she tentatively offered. "Can I make something like brownies or cookies this afternoon if I get some rest this morning?"
He appeared to consider that for several long seconds before giving a small nod. "All right. If you spend all morning resting and getting some more sleep, you may choose one thing to bake this afternoon.
Meg's smile lit up the kitchen. "Thank you, comm- I mean, Steve."
Just a few minutes past noon, Meg stood in the kitchen, a large mixing bowl filled with oatmeal raisin cookie dough on the table in front of her. She'd spent the morning "resting", meaning curled up on the sofa in the family room with a mug of contraband coffee and watching TV. All evidence of her caffeine consumption had since been erased, so she wasn't worried about Steve finding out.
The oven timer buzzed, and Meg grabbed an oven mitt to carefully extract a cookie sheet from within with steaming, freshly baked cookies. She set the pan on the counter so the cookies could cool and set for a few minutes before removing them to a cooling rack.
She knew she wasn't exactly following the commander's instructions, but honestly, he was overreacting. Who made a big deal about a teenager being a little tired? And requiring her to take a nap before being allowed to play around in the kitchen? She wasn't a baby!
Glancing around the kitchen, Meg felt somewhat pleased that she'd cleaned up most of the mess from the cookies. The extra ingredients had been returned to their rightful places, and the tools she'd use (including several measuring cups) she'd used to create the dough had already been washed and were drying on a rack.
A quick glance at the clock confirmed that the cookies on the pan were ready to be moved to a cooling rack. Meg carefully transferred them, not wanting the cookies to break. They'd be a nice treat for Steve and Danny after work. Once she completed that task, Meg checked the temperature of the pan before carrying it over to the waiting bowl of remaining cookie dough.
Two minutes later, 12 practically perfect balls of dough sat evenly spaced on the pan. Lifting the pan gingerly with her left hand, Meg carried it over to the oven and gently set it inside. Overcome with the urge to yawn, Meg instinctively covered her mouth with her right hand and began to pull her other arm out of the oven. She wasn't paying close attention, though, and a sudden, searing pain on her left arm let Meg know she'd just bumped it against the ceiling of the oven.
A string of curses flew from Meg's mouth that no doubt would have bothered Steve. She slammed the oven door closed, set the timer as quickly as she could, and all but ran to the sink, turning the faucet on and jerking her arm under the cool, running water.
She could see a pink stripe forming across the pale skin of her forearm. The pain, even with the cool water, was intense. She'd never burnt herself while cooking or baking before, and Meg could hardly believe she'd managed to do so now.
Meg was still pondering the ridiculousness of the situation when she heard her phone ring. From her spot, she couldn't see who was calling. Reaching out with her good arm, she realized she couldn't reach the phone and keep her burn under the water. Taking a deep breath, she extracted her arm from the water and hurried to grasp the phone.
"F***************ck!" she moaned out as she hit the green spot on the screen to accept the call while getting her arm back under the water as rapidly as possible. Too concerned with her arm, she didn't take notice of who was calling. "Hello?" she asked somewhat breathlessly.
"What's wrong?" a voice demanded through the phone.
"Oh," she breathed. "Hi comm- I mean Steve." Meg took a few breaths to calm her racing heart. Her arm definitely hurt more without the water. "What's up?"
"Don't make me ask twice, Meg."
Meg noted that his voice had grown hard, and she didn't care for that tone at all. "Sorry, I just accidentally burned my arm while making some cookies. It's fine, though."
"How big is the burn?"
She squinted at the rapidly reddening skin. "A couple of inches?" she guessed. "I don't know."
"Did you get it in cool water?"
Meg nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "Yeah, I have it under running water from the kitchen sink."
"Good. Listen, you keep that burn under the water. Danny and I will be there in five minutes."
"That's not…" she began with a sigh, but a click on the line indicated he'd already disconnected the call. "Ugh," she grumbled.
Standing there in front of the sink, holding her arm so the water could flow over the injured skin, quickly became boring. Meg twisted her body to eye the timer on the oven. The batch currently cooking had two minutes left to cook. She'd just have to deal with the pain for a minute or so when they were done, because there was no way she was letting a stupid burn screw up her cookies.
To pass the time, Meg thought about other things she wanted to make for dinner in the near future. Steve and Danny would surely appreciate a good steak, although Meg wasn't as accomplished with a grill (having had less practice cooking on one), and she wondered if Steve would let her use it unsupervised. He might find a difference between cooking with a stove or oven and cooking over an open flame. It wasn't as if she was a little kid, but he seemed more protective than she'd anticipated.
Fajitas might be nice. She could do those in a skillet or in the oven. She'd been in the mood for fajitas for a few weeks.
The oven timer went off, and Meg sighed. Steve and Danny had yet to return, and there was no way she was letting perfectly good cookies burn on her watch. Mentally preparing herself for an increase in pain, Meg turned off the faucet and grabbed a kitchen towel to dry her hands. The stinging in her left arm intensified, but she could get more water on it as soon as the cookies were safe.
She was so absorbed in her task that Meg didn't hear the front door open and close. Just as she was slipping an oven mitt on her right hand, a stern voice startled her.
"Hey!"
Jerking her gaze up, Meg spied Steve stalking towards her with a particularly displeased expression on his face.
"I told you to keep that burn under the water, young lady," he reminded her, wrapping a hand around her arm, just below her shoulder, and leading her back to the sink. Spying the reddened skin on her left arm, he grasped her elbow and gently tugged her arm until water was cascading over the burn once more. Satisfied that the burn was being cooled, Steve turned and headed for the downstairs bathroom.
Frustrated, Meg extracted her arm from the running water. As she turned, she spied Danny standing in one of the doorways to the kitchen. He looked concerned at first, but his frown deepened as Meg moved away from the sink. "My cookies are going to burn!" she complained.
Steve spun in the other doorway, and Meg couldn't help but find his current expression a little scary. "Meg." Crossing the kitchen in record time, he once more grasped her arm and forced it back under the water. As the water began to cool the burn, though, Meg felt a sharp sting in her backside.
She jumped and let out a sort of squeak, but before she could turn around to demand what he'd just done, Steve's face was inches from hers. He wasn't angry, per se, but he was definitely displeased, and his stern gaze drilled holes through her eyes. When he spoke, his voice was low and hard. "You pull that burn away from the water again before I tell you to, young lady, and I'll take you across my knee the moment I'm finished treating your arm. Do you understand me?"
Thoroughly intimidated for the first time since her arrival, Meg swallowed and nodded her head.
"No, I want to hear your answer."
"Yes sir," she murmured.
"What do you need?" Meg heard as Steve straightened and moved out of her line of sight. The teen realized in horror that Danny had seen and heard everything that had just happened. She felt her face flush in embarrassment.
"Aloe in the fridge," Steve called out as Meg heard cabinets in the bathroom being opened and closed. "Also, Danno, would you mind getting those cookies out of the oven before Meg earns herself a sore butt?"
'Oh god," she thought as she covered her eyes with her right hand, her mortification only growing.
Meg stood nearly as still as a statue for what seemed like forever until she heard her name, this time spoken with a tone that, while still firm, was less hard than before. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Steve seated on the opposite side of the table.
"Come sit down," he told her in a calm voice.
Cautiously turning, Meg took three steps and lowered herself onto the stool. "You hit me," she mumbled, though it was more surprise than accusation.
"I gave you a well-earned swat, Meg, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I told you to keep that burn under the water and you disobeyed me not once, but twice."
"It's just a little burn," Meg protested with a frown.
Steve held a hand out, and Meg tentatively lifted her left arm, extending it far enough that he could reach it. Gentle fingers grasped her arm and turned it so that Meg's burn was in plain view. "This is not a little burn, Meg, and I'm sure you'd rather not have to go to the hospital over it." Meg couldn't disagree with that statement. "Your safety is my top priority, and if you're doing something to jeopardize that safety, legal guardian or not, I won't hesitate to spank you to help you remember to make better choices. You might want to keep that in mind."
"Sorry," she murmured, and she mostly meant it. Glancing to her right, Meg spied Danny leaning against the counter. "Thanks for getting the cookies, Detective Williams."
"Your safety is more important than a batch of cookies, Meg," he told her, his expression and tone serious.
Meg didn't think her burn was going to interfere with her safety, but she gave a small nod of acknowledgement anyway, hoping it would appease him.
A finger tapped against the side of Meg's arm, and she turned her attention back to Steve. "How much does your arm hurt right now, on a scale of 1-10?"
"Five," she replied honestly.
"I'll get her some Tylenol," Danny offered, pushing away from the counter and heading for the bathroom.
Steve reached for the bottle of aloe. "I'm going to spread a thin layer of aloe gel on your burn, Meg," he explained. "It will help further cool the skin and keep it hydrated. I don't know how uncomfortable it's going to feel at first, but I need you to keep your arm still." At her nod, he squeezed some of the gel onto his left palm. Using his index and middle finger on his right hand, Steve scooped up some of the gel and began to gently spread it over the inflamed skin.
Meg let out a soft hiss, but made no other sound. She understood that the aloe would help, so she'd just deal with a few more moments of discomfort in the meantime. Focused on what Steve was doing, she jumped a little in surprise when a glass of juice and two pills were set in front of her. Meg lifted her gaze to Danny's.
"Take them, babe," he said in a gentler voice than before.
"Thanks," she murmured before washing down the pills without another word or argument.
"How did you burn your arm?" Steve asked as he lightly covered the burn with a sterile gauze pad and began wrapping gauze around her arm to keep it in place.
"I had just put that sheet of cookies in the oven, and when I was pulling out my arm, it bumped into the top of the oven."
"Have you ever burned yourself while cooking or baking before?"
Meg emphatically shook her head. "Never. I suppose there's a first time for everything." She paused, a disappointing thought entering her mind as she watched him work. "You… you aren't going to ban me from cooking or baking while you aren't home, are you?"
"I wasn't planning on it," Steve said as he secured the gauze wrap. Satisfied, he lifted his gaze to Meg. When she continued to stare at her arm, he reached out a hand and gently nudged her chin until he could see her face properly. "You still look tired," he observed. "Did you get any more sleep this morning after I left?"
That was definitely a question Meg didn't want to answer. "I rested all morning," she hedged, hoping it would satisfy him.
"Meg." Steve paused, watching her struggle not to fidget. Apparently it hadn't. "Did you get any sleep this morning after I left?"
She really wanted to give an excuse that might appease him – that she had tried but couldn't fall asleep – but it wouldn't be truthful, and although his expression was calm, she didn't think he was very pleased with her at the moment and didn't want to risk lying on top of that. "No."
The commander leaned forward slightly, folding his arms in front of him on the table. "So, you knew you were tired, but you thought you'd bake cookies anyway?"
"You said I could…" she said, though her voice lacked confidence.
"I did," he agreed, "on the condition that you spent the entire morning resting and getting some more sleep. I wanted you to be more rested before working with anything hot, which I'm fairly sure you understood ahead of time, didn't you?"
Meg could only nod. She'd known he wouldn't want her baking anything without actually being rested.
Steve arched an eyebrow. "Did you feel more alert and better rested when you started baking?"
The teen shook her head no.
Steve nodded, more to himself than to Meg. "It appears we need to have a deeper conversation about today's events. Head on up to your room, Meg. I'll be there in a few minutes."