Thanks to all my reviewers and my beta reader for the cheeseburgers. :D

Chapter Two "What Real Fun Looks Like"

Lane was only half focused on work. She was supposed to be gathering intel, planning her next move, and keeping a tight control on all of her personal interactions. Steve was some sort of exception she didn't know existed. He was disarming.

That was a bad thing, but Lane hadn't yet decided how to deal with it. She probably knew that getting closer to him wasn't a good idea, but at the moment, it seemed like the thing to do. She wouldn't admit to herself that she had invited him out more for his benefit than hers. He seemed stressed. She could help.

When she left the 'Iolani Palace to find Steve waiting in the driver's seat of her car, Lane thought he looked quite at home there. She realized that she had left her hair up and her earrings in as she slid into the passenger side.

"Where we headed, Boss?" she asked with a smile.

Steve pulled out onto the main road and accelerated more quickly than he probably should have. "What sounds good?" he asked.

"You know, I really don't like French food, so I could go for a cheeseburger."

"Your brother took you to a French restaurant?"

"Yes. He's a snob, and I'm hungry."

"You got it. I know just the place."

Steve drove Lane to a tiny hole in the wall on a backstreet she would never have found on her own. It didn't look like much, and Lane was more than skeptical. Steve seemed to anticipate her protest before it came.

"Trust me," he said. "You want a good burger, this is the place."

"Fine." Lane reached for the door handle. "But if I get mugged, I'm telling my brother on you, and you do not want to be on the wrong side of the man who could kill you seven different ways with a socket wrench."

"He sounds like a joy." Steve smirked, getting out of the car. "Does he spend his free time thinking up ways to kill people?"

Lane closed the car door and rested her elbow on the roof. "No. He just thought it was important to know how to use the tools with which he surrounds himself."

"Rather than using a socket wrench for... blots?

"Oh, he does that too. When he was fourteen, he dismantled an entire Honda Civic in our garage. Our neighbor wrecked it and sold it to him for a hundred bucks. He rebuilt it by the time he got his license. Actually, I think that's why he knows how to kill people with wrenches."

"I should have him come look at my dad's old car... when he's in a good mood."

Lane smiled and followed Steve toward the door of the "restaurant." "He's usually in a good mood."

Steve held the door open for her. "So as long as I don't get you mugged, he might come over?"

"Yeah, I think he'd be interested." Lane was glad Steve didn't see the look in her eyes as she said that. It might have been too much excitement or maybe a little dread. This was going better than she planned, and she wasn't even trying that hard.

H-5-O

Steve wasn't sure how he ended up here in a dark corner of a somewhat questionable establishment with a woman who was becoming more and more intriguing. First she'd suggested drinks, which he was all for. Then, of all things, she wanted a cheeseburger, which wasn't that unusual, but a girl who wanted a cheeseburger after going to a fancy French dinner was interesting to say the least. And her brother was into cars.

Steve didn't really have a problem with their current situation, but he hoped no one would get the wrong idea. He hadn't planned on getting this close to a coworker he didn't choose. But Lane was different. She was like him.

Maybe that was dangerous, and Steve would be as cautious as he always was, but it wasn't as if he had any reason not to spend time with Lane. If she was doing her job right, she would keep appropriate distance. If she wasn't, that was not Steve's problem.

As they enjoyed their late dinner, the two of them talked more about family and the things they used to do as teenagers. Steve usually tried to avoid thinking about that time in his life. He found it easier to focus on the present, but the way Lane talked about her brother made him want to remember the fun he used to have before things got bad. He did notice that she hardly mentioned her parents though. It was as if Lane and Mac had grown up on their own.

Steve told himself not to ask, but apparently he wasn't listening. "So, what did your parents do?" It was a simple enough question.

Lane didn't exactly hesitate, but the flow Steve noticed in her speech pattern seemed to dissipate. "My dad was a detective," she said. "Then he retired."

Steve nodded. "Mine too. I had already left when he retired though."

"Sounds like he didn't really."

Steve frowned. "Where did you hear that?"

"I've read about it. And there was some talk of the interweaving cases when I met with the governor the first time."

"Speaking of your boss..."

"Oh, yeah. He is my boss."

"I don't think forgetting that is a good way to keep your job."

"I know that. I've been following orders, just like I'm supposed to, turning in reports and all that."

"No issues yet?"

"Yet? You mean there will inevitably be issues?"

"Your position would be redundant otherwise."

"You can't just play nice, can you?"

"Not when lives are at stake."

"Of course. I wouldn't ignore any misbehavior, but I doubt if I would emphasize it, unless I thought it was really bad. I think I'll stick to the facts and let them speak for themselves."

"I probably shouldn't be talking to you about it. The governor might accuse me of trying to influence you."

"I consider the whole situation strange." Lane stabbed a french fry with her fork. "From what I've seen, Five-0 runs pretty smoothly. Why does he even need me?"

"When I first met Governor Denning, I was a recently exonerated fugitive. He made me promise to keep things under control. I proceeded to release a criminal to use as bait for Wo Fat, which didn't work, and then the governor gave us Officer Weston."

"Which didn't work out either?"

"Not particularly."

"Because...?"

Steve didn't really want to answer that question. The whole situation was awkward, and he would prefer to forget about it. "I think she was trying to make everyone happy. At the expense of actually doing her job."

"I guess it's a good thing I'm not a people pleaser then."

"Aren't you?" Steve leaned back against the seat.

"I may come off that way, but fundamentally, no. I'll go to a French restaurant to make someone happy, but proceed to eat a cheeseburger afterward." She gestured at her nearly empty plate. "Which was delicious, by the way. Reminds me of a place my dad used to take us in Anacortes. We had to take a ferry to get anywhere from Lopez Island, but it was kind of fun."

"Sounds like you enjoyed living there."

"Living on an island is like... being in a story. Maybe that's why my brother chose to live here. It's a lot different, though."

"I can imagine. Did he just up and move here, or did he have a reason?"

"He didn't need a reason. I was in the Army, and he was stuck at home. I guess he just needed to get away. What better place, right?"

Steve smiled. "Yeah. Makes me wonder how I stayed away so long. There were times I could have been here, but I didn't want to see my dad, so I stayed in Coronado or wherever I happened to be at the time."

"Well, I can understand that. I loved Washington, but I don't think I'll ever go back."

"You might be surprised. I don't think life ever turns out the way we plan, no matter how sure we are that we know exactly what we're doing."

Lane sat back in her seat and blinked slowly. "You're talkative tonight."

Steve noticed how she changed the subject away from herself and back to him. "Danny rubs off on me," he said. "And he thinks I'm a bad influence on you."

"How's that?"

"Today's little take down might have had something to do with it."

"I only did what was necessary, and I certainly didn't learn it from you."

"That's what I keep telling him. I think he knows it; he just likes hearing himself talk."

Lane nodded. "It's comforting to some people." She didn't elaborate, but Steve got the feeling someone she knew had been like that. Someone who wasn't around anymore.

"Must be," Steve replied. "But you don't mind it too much?"

Lane smiled curiously. "Why would I mind?"

"Some people are put off by Danny's... Danny."

"Ah, well, I've been surrounded by men of all kinds my whole life. He's not so bad. There was this guy in my unit in Iraq who literally could not keep his mouth shut to save his life. I think he's a city councilman now or something like that."

Steve laughed. He suddenly imagined Danny as a politician, and it somehow made perfect sense. "Sounds like you enjoyed being in the Army." Steve tried to direct the conversation back to Lane's history.

She nodded. "It was a good place for me. I fit there. But I think I fit here, too."

"You do. I think I'd like it better if you worked for me."

"I think you'd like it better if you didn't work for anyone."

Steve shook his head. "That's not true. There would be nothing worthwhile to do if I did it all for myself. No, I like things the way they are."

Lane nodded, staring off away from the table. In her line of sight was a long bar full of noisy patrons along with other booths like the one in which they sat. The dim lighting disguised the grimy floor and dirty windows. Steve watched her eyes. She didn't seem to be focusing on anything in particular until she broke her gaze and looked back at Steve.

"That guy's about to get into a fight," she said.

Steve resisted the urge to turn around and see what she meant. "What guy?" he asked calmly.

"There's a man two from the far end of the bar. He's been drinking steadily ever since we came in here, and he's getting more and more agitated. He's arguing with the man next to him. I don't think they know each other."

Steve could hear the voices behind him getting louder, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. "Think we should do something?"

"I'm thinking." Lane was silent for a moment. "I think he has a weapon under his jacket."

"That's not a problem."

"It might be for bystanders if he gets mad enough."

"So what do you think we should do?"

"I have an idea. Just follow me like we're headed toward the restrooms."

"Okay. What are you going to do?"

"Just follow me. Act like you're trying to ignore him."

Steve nodded and got up with Lane. He left some money on the table for their dinner and they headed down the narrow walkway between the bar on their left and the tables on their right. Lane took the lead, walking closer to the bar than the tables. Steve could see what she was planning to do before she did it, and he didn't think it was such a good idea.

"Oh, sorry!" she said as she ran too hard into the man, spilling his drink down his shirt, and forcing him to face toward the walkway.

"Watch where you're going, bitch," he grumbled loudly.

Steve realized this was his cue to step in. He still didn't like the way things were going, but he couldn't very well let someone insult Lane and get away with it could he? At least that would be his story later.

"Mind your manners," Steve said in mock politeness. "She said she was sorry."

The man didn't respond but reached into his jacket and pulled out a revolver. People started to take notice when Steve bent the man's arm over the bar, causing the gun to fall to the floor behind it. But that wasn't anywhere close to the end of the matter. The man pushed back, and he was stronger than he looked. And more in control of himself than his behavior indicated. He pulled Steve off with his left hand and shoved him into the partition between two booths across the walkway. He got a few hits in before Steve managed to return the favor.

The two of them were now standing across the narrow strip of red carpet. Steve tasted blood, and his vision seemed hazy in his right eye. The man lunged at him again, but Lane planted her foot in front of his, causing him to faceplant at Steve's feet. Lane moved her foot to the back of the man's neck and looked up at Steve.

"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind," she said with a smirk.

Steve held up one finger. "Next time you're on point." He turned to the bartender who was staring along with the rest of the building. "Five-0."

That answered everything.