You Owe Me

by njborba

Steve thinks he's finally ready for a future with Catherine, but nothing goes as planned.

9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, Hawaii Five-0.

---

You Owe Me
Part 9

By
N. J. Borba

---

"Catherine!"

She turned her head at the sound of her name being shouted loudly into the night.

Steve's voice sounded slightly panicked, which caused her search to become somewhat desperate. Catherine pawed at the ground until she finally made contact with her fallen flashlight. She scooped it up, flicked it back on and then trotted toward the tent and the sound of his yelling. Catherine came trudging through the underbrush, her flashlight casting a beam that wobbled back and forth. "What happened, what's wrong?" she panted, running into Steve and Trooper several yards away from the tent.

"Hey…" he spun around to face her, looking rather shaken.

"Why the heck were you yelling?" Catherine added to her inquire once she'd seen that he and Trooper didn't appear to be in any danger.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and she could actually feel his heart beating against his chest. "You didn't respond the other two times I called your name."

"I didn't even hear you until you started shouting," Catherine was a little worried by the way he was practically crushing her. He'd done the same thing a few months back after he'd found her at Ka'ena point, which they weren't too far from at the moment.

"I got worried because you were out here for so long, and I couldn't hear you," Steve admitted, taking a few deep breaths to calm his rattled mind.

She chuckled softly, remaining in his embrace. "Yeah, well you not hearing me pee was kind of the point," Catherine replied. "And while I was in squat mode I had the flashlight held between my chin and my chest, which was a bad plan because it slipped. I tried to catch it and ended up flinging it into the bushes, which apparently flipped the switch off. So I was pants down in complete darkness…" she shook off that thought, not needing to go into any further detail. "Next thing I know you're yelling and I found the flashlight."

Catherine took Trooper's leash from him and aimed them all back toward the tent. "Come on, sailor. Obviously you haven't learned the meaning of the word vacation yet, because you look like you're about ready to burst a blood vessel," she noticed the veins in his neck and forehead looking strained. "I'm going to keep reminding you to relax the next few days."

They settled back in the tent and Steve did his best to unwind as instructed.

Trooper was already dozing off by the time Catherine had washed her hands with a wet wipe and had both of their flashlights repositioned for easy retrieval if they needed to return to the dark night for any reason. "Very first thing I'm doing when we get back home is buying you one of those hands-free headlight flashlight thingies," Steve said, curling up beside her atop their snuggly air mattress nest.

Their lips melted against one another for a moment, but it didn't lead anywhere. Steve just held her tightly in their tent sanctuary. She couldn't help wondering what was really bothering him as he laid his head against her shoulder and closed his eyes. "Wasn't there something you wanted to tell me earlier?" Catherine prodded.

"It, uh…"

She listened to Steve's hesitation as his eyes remained closed.

"It wasn't important," he finally said.

Catherine blinked away sleep, waking from the dream with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

That same troubled feeling hadn't gone away for weeks as the same dream kept plaguing her. Of course it wasn't so much a dream as it was her memory of what had happened that first night of their camping trip. Something about Steve's actions that night still haunted her. His panicky words, his clingy behavior, and the way he'd clamed up about telling her something. The look in his eyes earlier that night had her certain there'd been something on his mind, but he'd never mentioned it again.

Now, nearly three weeks past their camping trip, Catherine was still worried about him.

She rolled onto her side and noticed the time on the small digital clock atop her bedside table. "How is it so late," Catherine groaned, stretching and sitting up.

Trooper lifted her head in greeting, though she remained rooted at the foot of the bed. "Why didn't you wake me, girl?" Catherine asked, reaching forward to pat her canine companion atop the head. "I can't just sleep all day. Even though I don't really have anything to do," she realized. "Billy is still in San Francisco taking care of his father who got sick over the holidays," Catherine continued to talk to the dog as she extracted herself from bed.

"I guess I could keep running surveillance on Nina Bishop's husband. She's still paying us. But it seems like a hundred and twenty hours of footage of him playing golf should be evidence enough that he's not having an affair. At least not with anyone other than his nine-iron," Catherine lamented her lack of interest in that job as she went to the shower and turned it on. Trooper followed her into the bathroom, seemingly keeping guard.

"Could put some feelers out for other business," she added. "Billy's way better at that part than I am, though. I could call the Flay sisters and see if they want a self-defense lesson," Catherine went on. "Or maybe just take them and Grace on a shopping trip? It is a Saturday, a day most people relax," her thoughts drifted to Steve again, knowing he'd left earlier, mumbling something about work. "Hmm, except I think Grace is with her mom this weekend, so probably no shopping trip for us."

After a nice long shower, some clean clothing and a small breakfast, Catherine found herself at Five-0 headquarters. She'd abandoned all her other Saturday afternoon options in favor of seeking out Steve's company. He was keeping so busy lately that they rarely saw each other, at least not for longer than it took to kiss hello or good-bye. Catherine couldn't help worrying she'd done or said something wrong that had led to his avoidance.

HQ was quiet as she entered the side door closest to Steve's office. Catherine could see right away that he wasn't there but she went into his office and sat down behind his desk.

"Catherine?" Danny stuck his head inside the office a moment later. "Thought I saw you come in here," he nervously glanced at the bank of desk drawers to her left, knowing that Steve was still keeping the threatening notes hidden there.

"I'm guessing Steve isn't here?" she sat back with a frustrated sigh.

Danny's head shook as he fully entered the office. "He and Chin went to meet Grover in Pearl City. They're questioning a suspect we think might've been involved in those jewelry store robberies last month, a partner. I stayed behind to work on some paperwork since I don't have Grace this weekend," he relayed.

"Do any of you ever take a day off?" Catherine wondered.

"Occasionally," Danny chuckled softly. "But not if Steve is calling the shots, and he's been a little bossier than usual lately," the detective revealed. "I could definitely use a break right now, though," he slid into the black leather chair across from her. "What's up? How've you been?"

"I'm worried about Steve," she didn't dance around the issue foremost on her mind.

"Oh?" Danny instantly felt uncomfortable with their conversation, knowing what he knew about the notes and Steve's precarious walk along the lying tightrope. He'd actually been actively avoiding Catherine for weeks since Christmas.

"The last few months he's been very clingy, and you know that's not really his thing. It took us years to even get to where we are now," Catherine watched as Danny nodded. "And I know he's got some super-duper tracker system imbedded into my phone that could probably find me on the moon," she exaggerated, not terribly upset by that fact. "When we were camping over New Year's he seemed really tense, freaking out almost every time I left his sight for more than a second or two. But the past three weeks it feels like he's been avoiding me all together," she sighed, head shaking minimally. "And you probably don't want to hear all this…"

He shrugged. "It's okay," Danny offered, not wanting to evade her any longer. Not after hearing how obviously distressed she was about Steve's behavior.

"I just wish he'd talk to me, come clean about what's really bothering him…" she trailed off.

"I'm guessing it has to do with Wo Fat," Danny quickly tried to calm her fears. "You know he was supposed to be extradited to China on the first of January, but they've changed the transfer date twice in the last three weeks. You'd think a delay would be a good thing, but Steve has trouble with not being able to control a situation," he stated, trying not to blurt out that his friend was really so tense lately because he'd been lying to Catherine for nearly three months.

"You're probably right," Catherine smiled softly. "I guess I just wish there was something I could do for him."

"Probably not, unless you can promise to never…" Danny stopped himself short from saying that Steve's biggest fear was of losing her.

She sat forward. "Never what, Danny? You know something, don't you?"

"Please, Catherine," he leaned forward, shifting uncomfortably as he realized he'd said too much. "Can we just pretend I didn't say anything?"

"You didn't," her eyes narrowed in thought, trying to work out the underlying meaning of Danny's words.

His head shook as he got to his feet and paced. "Don't put me in this position, Catherine," he practically begged. "It's bad enough that Steve has already got me stuck between a rock and a hard place. I can't say anything. Steve should be the one to tell you what's going on."

"What do you know, Danny?" she couldn't just let it go so easily.

"I can't tell you," Danny maintained, feeling rotten inside. He wanted to punch Steve in the mouth for putting him in the middle of such a horrible situation. He thought of Catherine like family and it was tearing him up inside to see her so worried. Especially since he knew exactly what it was she really needed to be worried about. "You have to talk to him, and don't give up until he tells you," Danny implored. "He needs to get it out. He really does."

"Danny," Catherine sat forward, looked him in the eye. "You'd tell me if Steve was cheating on me?"

"What? No!" he exclaimed. Danny's jaw twitched with barely controlled anger, ready to give Steve a piece of his mind. "I mean… he's not," Danny quickly clarified. "But, yes, I would tell you if he was because I'd punch his lights out. Of course he'd never do that to you," Danny was at least confident of that fact, "Never."

Catherine felt slightly deceitful, "Danny, relax. I wasn't really being serious about the cheating thing," although she did breathe a little easier upon hearing his adamant reply. "I guess I figured if it was something bigger than that you might spill. But thank you for what you said, that you'd tell me," Catherine sat back, her thoughts beginning to jump to all sorts of different conclusions. "Maybe I never should've told him I love him," she wondered aloud.

"Jeez, no, Catherine," Danny felt awful again. He really was going to punch his idiot friend the next time he saw the man. "I'm almost certain he feels the same way about you. It's kind of hard to see it, though, right? I don't really get what his whole issue with saying it out loud is… maybe it's the Doris thing," Danny shrugged as he leaned against the back of the chair he'd been sitting in earlier. "But the fact that he was looking at rings three months ago should tell you how serious he really is about…" he stopped, realizing what he'd just said.

"Rings?" she immediately asked.

"Did I just say rings?" Danny stumbled, "I didn't mean looking at rings as in he was…"

"Danny," Catherine tried to help the poor guy out of a tough spot. "Is Steve planning to propose?"

"Well… he was kicking around the idea," Danny sighed in disgust, not sure why he'd used such stupid words. "Yes, that was the plan. We went ring shopping but he couldn't decide on one, and then when he found out you were pretty much against the whole getting married thing… wow, you know what, I'm shutting up now," the detective sighed.

She swallowed apprehensively, "Steve was actually looking at rings?"

"He was," Danny nodded, knowing he'd already said too much to deny the facts now.

Catherine tried to wrap her head around that unexpected news for a moment. She was somewhat glad for the distraction of the ringing cell phone in her bag. As she pulled it free and glanced down at the screen Catherine grimaced over her business partner's rather bad timing. Her eyes reconnected with Danny. "It's Billy," she told him. "I should probably take this."

"Yeah, sure, I'll give you some privacy," Danny immediately sprang at the opportunity to duck out of Steve's office.

"Billy, hi," she answered the call. There wasn't much more to say on her end as she listened to Billy rattle off at length about the details of a fairly large job he'd secured for them. As she listened Catherine caught sight of Danny hovering just outside Steve's office door. She noticed the detective was on a phone call as well, and he looked more than a little upset by whatever was being said on the other end of his call.

"Catherine… you still there?"

Her attention snapped back to Billy. "Sorry. I'm here. It all sounds like a great opportunity," Catherine grabbed a pen out of a container atop Steve's desk, but she couldn't find a piece of paper to write down the information Billy needed to give her. She momentarily lamented Steve's tidiness and was about to ask Billy to just text the information, but she finally found a blank envelope in Steve's middle desk drawer. She scrawled down the numbers Billy gave her, "Yeah, I'll be ready," Catherine agreed before disconnecting.

In her rush, Catherine hadn't noticed that the envelope had Steve's name on the other side, or that it was actually full of paper. She felt bad for having grabbed the first thing she'd found. Catherine removed the folded pages and returned them to the drawer. She kept the envelope and made a mental note to tell Steve what she'd done. As she stepped out of his office Danny nearly ran right into her. "Whoa, where's the fire?" she asked.

He stood there for a moment looking at her. "Catherine, uh…"

"What's wrong, Danny?" her whole body tensed seeing the concern in his eyes.

"It's Steve," he finally said. "Apparently they were ambushed by their suspect and Chin said Steve was shot."

"How bad…" Catherine gulped.

"I think just his arm. They're already at the hospital, so…" Danny trailed off as he watched Catherine rush toward the door. "I'll drive," he offered, darting after her.

000

Catherine tapped her foot impatiently. "Steve McGarrett," she repeated his name a third time, leaning heavily against the nurse's station counter.

"Sorry," the red-headed woman behind the counter replied. "I'm just not seeing anyone by that name admitted to the ER this afternoon."

Catherine let go a frustrated sigh. Danny had dropped her off at the main entrance so she could find out where Steve was right away while he parked. But she hadn't gotten very far yet. "Big M, little c, big G, a… r, r… e, t, t," she did her best to enunciate each letter. "Can you please just check again, one more time," Catherine insisted, trying to remain composed.

"Oh," the woman glanced at her screen. "I was spelling it wrong," she admitted, looking genuinely sorry. "He's in exam room twelve."

"Which is where?" Catherine asked.

"Down the hall to your right," the nurse replied, standing and moving around the counter to block Catherine's path, "Are you a family member?"

"Yes, I'm his…" Catherine could see the nurse eyeing her left ring finger and finding it bare. She thought about lying and claiming to be his sister, but that didn't feel right. "We live together, and I love him. Just because we aren't married doesn't mean I'm not family…" Catherine's voice faltered, feeling like she was about to lose it. A supportive hand rested against her back and Catherine was utterly grateful to have Danny there beside her.

He flashed his Five-0 badge. "I'm Detective Williams, and the two of us," Danny waved a hand to indicate Catherine, "Are here to see Commander McGarrett. What room again?"

"Twelve," the nurse repeated, taking her seat.

"Thank you," Danny replied politely as he guided Catherine down the hall without looking back. "She was friendly. You okay?"

"Fine," Catherine sighed. "In all fairness, I wasn't being entirely patient with her."

Danny smiled as they walked, always impressed by Catherine's sense of righteousness. "I'm sure Steve is fine," he offered up for the third time since they'd left HQ.

In Catherine's distressed mind the hospital hallway seemed to go on forever as they walked, a sea of beige linoleum stretched out as far as the eye could see. They passed several exam rooms, and the ubiquitous hospital smell of antiseptic and rubber gloves permeated every inch of the building. As they neared exam room twelve, Catherine spotted a woman who appeared to be early thirties, dark hair piled atop her head in a messy bun. "Steve McGarrett?" Catherine asked, eyeing the door.

"You're in the right place," the woman smiled in a friendly manner. "He's in there," she pointed over her shoulder. "I'm Nancy, I just took his vitals and everything seems fine. Nurse Dixon is in there now finishing his stitches, but you can go in."

Thankful for the woman's kindness, Danny held the door open for Catherine.

The exam room was tiny and already packed with four people. Chin was seated on a hard plastic chair against the back wall, and Grover's bulk took up the remainder of the space beside Chin. Steve was in a seated position on the exam bed. He had his cargo pants on but a hospital gown was draped over his chest, mostly covering his right shoulder and exposing a pretty nasty wound high on his left shoulder. Steve looked up when Catherine entered the room and smiled to see her, but he easily noticed the frightened look in her dark eyes.

"This is nothing, you should see the other guy," Steve joked. "Bullet took a bite out of me but didn't like what it tasted, headed right through the other side," he explained.

Grover flashed Catherine a guarded look. "Apparently he's not just hard-headed but bullet proof, too. That slug came a quarter inch from shattering shoulder bone, and another eighth of an inch away from hitting a major vein. He's still lost plenty blood."

"Don't tell her all that," Steve glared threateningly at the Captain. "Why would you tell her that? You're worse than Danny."

"I'm standing right here, babe," Danny waved a hand from his position by the door.

Chin got up and tapped Grover on the arm. "We're going to take off."

"You should get some rest, Superman," Grover instructed Steve as he followed Chin to the door.

"He's right," Chin agreed, smiling at Grover's Superman comment. "Marcus Bellows isn't likely to be found again today. Grover called the incident in to HPD and they'll start canvasing for him. But I don't want to see you back at headquarters again until Monday morning at the earliest. That means not tomorrow, but the day after. Understood?"

"Fine, yes," Steve gave in rather easily, "Just quit your nagging and get out of here."

With a little more space to maneuver, Catherine went to Steve's right side as soon as Grover and Chin had exited. She sat on the edge of the exam bed and pressed herself against his right side, doing her best not to jar him too much as the nurse finished up his stitches. "Hey," he whispered as her face buried against his shoulder. "I'm fine."

Catherine didn't say anything, just held on to him.

Steve looked to Danny with an arched brow. Danny just shrugged.

"There," the nurse was the first one to say anything as she finished taping a bandage over his stitches. "You're going to need to keep that clean and dry. And be sure to change the dressing every few hours. But you shouldn't have too much of a scar," the woman noted.

"I've found that women think scars are sexy," Steve joked with the nurse even as Catherine remained silently at his side.

The nurse smiled as she wrote something down on his chart. "I'll try to get the doctor in here as soon as possible so you can head home and rest."

Danny held the door for the nurse as she exited. He looked to Steve again, "I'll just be out in the hall when you're ready to go. Since I'm the only ride you've got."

After both of them were gone, Steve looked to Catherine again. He could feel her warm breath against his neck as he stroked her silky hair. "You want to look at me?" he coaxed.

She sat back a little but remained close, feeling nearly as clingy as he had during their campout.

"I really am fine," he assured her. "I've had worse, and you've never reacted like this before."

"Yeah, well, things have changed a little haven't they? Our relationship isn't just casual any more," her words came out laced with anger that she hadn't expected. "Is it?" she looked him in the eye and could see him struggling with an answer. Catherine sighed as she stood, "Never mind. Obviously you've locked your emotions behind some invisible door recently, for whatever reason, I don't know. I feel like I have no idea what's going on with you right now and…" she walked to the door. "I'm just going to wait in the hall with Danny."

"Catherine, hang on…" Steve was on his feet, groping for the clean t-shirt Chin had brought for him. Most of them kept extra clothing and gear on hand in their vehicles.

"What happened in here?" Danny asked as he reentered the room. "Catherine just stormed down the hall like the devil was after her."

"Good question," Steve grumbled as he shrugged off the hospital gown and struggled to put the t-shirt on with only one decently functioning shoulder.

Danny helped his friend, getting the shirt over his head and through both arm holes with minimal discomfort. "Did she mention the ring thing or the proposal?"

Steve's eyes widened as he leaned against the exam bed, winded from just putting on a shirt, "What are you talking about? What ring thing…" he stared at his friend for what felt like hours. "Danny, what have you done? Did you tell her I was going to propose? Why would you do that? I told you about her parents and that she…"

"Do not even put this on me, pal," Danny warned.

Steve dismissed his friend in favor of seeking out Catherine. He was about to exit the tiny room when the doctor knocked and came in. About five minutes later he gave Steve the all clear. Catherine was outside the door waiting when Steve and Danny exited. The three of them walked down the hall in silence, a pattern that continued all the way to Danny's car, all the way back to HQ where Catherine and Danny transferred Steve to her car, all the way home, and all the way up to the second floor bedroom Steve and Catherine shared.

Ten minutes after arriving home, Steve shifted a little in bed as she roughly stuffed a third fluffy pillow behind his back. His shoes were kicked off, legs outstretched, a small blanket spread across his lap and Trooper curled at his feet. "You know, Chin and Grover were overreacting; telling me to stay home and all," he finally dared to say something. "I have a sore shoulder, not like I'm in a coma. This is ridiculous," Steve waved his right hand over the bed.

She resisted an urge to whack him in the head with a pillow. Instead she stood beside him, hands on hips. "You were shot. Is that what you call ridiculous?" Catherine shook her head and left the room. She returned a few minutes later with a tray, glad that he hadn't tried to escape the bed. "Here, water and orange juice," she sat the tray down on the bed. "You lost a lot of blood, you should relax and hydrate, get your blood sugar levels regulated."

"Yes, nurse," he grinned, hoping to ease over whatever was wrong. But it was pretty plain to see by the look in her eyes that Catherine was not amused or easily appeased by his charms. "Hey, I'm sorry for being so stubborn," Steve reached for her hand but she wouldn't take it. "I'll stay home and rest today."

"And tomorrow," she added.

"But I'll be fine in the morn…" Steve caught her eye, but he didn't understand her fear. "I'm good, Cath. I've barely had a sniffle the last ten years."

"Just broken bones, dislocated shoulder, bruises, cuts, scrapes, and probably more than one concussion… now you've been shot," she pointed out. "Am I forgetting anything?"

"Point taken," he whispered, feeling amply reprimanded. Steve dared to finally take her hand and drew her closer. "Look at me, please," he tried to persuade her, tenderly caressing her palm with his thumb. But he could still see her dark eyes weren't yielding to him. "Okay, you win. I'll stay home and rest tomorrow, too," but even at that Steve could see she wasn't pleased. "Are you hungry? We could order in an early dinner, eat in bed…" she pulled away from him again. "Cath, will you please just tell me what's wrong?"

She stood at the foot of the bed, hands on hips again. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"What?" he'd never been so confused by her behavior before.

"I thought it was a pretty easy question," she sighed. "But I'll repeat it for you… do you think I'm stupid?"

"No," he answered firmly, seeing a fire building behind her eyes. Steve didn't think he'd ever seen the sort of look she was shooting at him at the moment. "No, Catherine, that's not a word I would ever use to describe you," he conveyed.

"Good. I'm glad we're at least in agreement on that," Catherine replied. She dropped both hands to her side, spun on her heel and marched toward the closet. One of her large suitcases was dragged out by the handle. She hefted it onto the bed and plunked it down beside Steve. Catherine unzipped the main compartment and flipped it open.

"What are you doing?" he sat forward. One of the pillows wedged behind him fell to the floor as his heartbeat ramped up.

"Packing," Catherine replied as simply as possible as she went to the bottom dresser drawer and pulled out several pairs of pants. She tossed them into the bag on the bed and proceeded to the next drawer up. "I need to leave," she added.

His mouth went dry as he watched her pack a few bulky sweaters he didn't think he'd ever seen her wear, or even knew she owned. Steve got to his feet and approached her beside the dresser. "Catherine, you don't want to do this. Please, we need to talk…"

"Really?" she faced him with a look that combined disbelief and irritation. "Is this going to be another talk like the one we had when we went away for New Years? You tell me you have something important to say and then after you freak out about me going to the bathroom alone you suddenly don't have anything to say," her voice cracked a little as she bit off the last word with a great deal of difficulty.

"Catherine, what's wrong?" Steve wanted to hold her, but he was afraid of her guarded body language, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

She took a deep breathe, "It's going to be cold where I'm headed," Catherine went back to the closet and returned with the hand knitted scarf and mitten set he'd given her for Christmas. "At least I'll get some further use out of these," she couldn't help recall ice skating with him, wishing everything in their lives could be so simple and carefree. Catherine caught his eye and stared at him for a long time. "Actually, it's going to be freezing where I'm going. I'll need some socks… lots of socks."

The two of them stood still for a long moment after her declaration, like some version of a Wild West standoff.

He watched her make the first move, cutting around the bed and heading straight toward the dresser again. Her hand hovered against the middle sock drawer and his heart thumped. Steve followed her back to the dresser. "Wait, Cath," he breathed out with some difficulty. "Will you just stop for a second and talk to me."

"But you don't like to talk," she accused.

"You're upset about something," he pointed out the obvious.

She shrugged, dismissing his comment. "Nope, I just really need some socks," Catherine repeated, even though she made no further move to actually open the drawer.

As their eyes met again, Steve's stomach flopped. "You know what's in that drawer, don't you?" he breathed out slowly, almost relieved.

"Socks, I would assume," she retorted before finally opening the drawer. Catherine pushed past a pile of white athletic socks and pulled the equally white envelope free. She held it aloft for a moment and then tossed it onto the bed before facing Steve again. "Like you said, I'm not stupid."

His heart broke to hear the frustration in her voice. "How long have you known those picture where there?"

"I found them just after Thanksgiving," Catherine revealed.

"Are you kidding me?" he was shocked by her admission. "Why didn't you say something?"

Catherine gaped at him, "Why didn't I say something?" she turned away and actually grabbed a few pairs of socks from the drawer. Catherine angrily stuffed them into her suitcase, her eyes gazing at the envelope atop their bed. "Those were taken the morning of my retirement party when you went to the store," she pointed at the envelope accusingly. "At first I thought maybe you were having me followed because of those pictures of me and Billy, that maybe you actually suspected me of cheating on you with Billy."

"No, Cath, no… I wouldn't have you followed," Steve was adamant, "And I'd never suspect you of cheating on me with anyone," he was starting to realize just how much of an idiot he'd been to keep her in the dark. "I thought the Dugan case was over, that the pictures were all a part of that. But then when they kept coming…"

"So there've been more?" she asked.

"Yes. One set a week for… until the week of Christmas. Then they stopped," Steve revealed.

Her eyed bore into him, "And you didn't think I should know about them?"

He knew there was no way to stop the avalanche that had already started. "I can't apologize for being worried about you, Catherine," he conveyed with a sigh. "I thought simply not telling you would keep you safe. Maybe that was naïve of me, but when the notes started to make threats on your life it seemed to confirm my belief that not telling you was for the best. And then… everything seemed to escalate from there; my worry, my desire to protect you."

"What notes?" she asked, only able to focus on one thing at a time.

Steve remained standing, facing her, knowing she deserved the full truth. He recited the notes' contents to her, nearly word for word, having read each of them enough times.

"But they stopped?" Catherine was still doing her best to play detective, it helped her to not dwell so much on the fear pooling in her belly.

He nodded, "Maybe Danny was right," Steve commented. "Could be that this psycho is too much of a coward to follow through."

"You don't believe that," she whispered.

"I…" it didn't take long for his response to clearly reflect in his eyes.

Catherine didn't even need his words.

She gently bit her bottom lip, still trying to sift through everything he'd just told her. "You're constantly running around trying to protect me, worrying about me," Catherine took a quick breath. "Well, guess what? You're not the only one who has a monopoly on worry. I worry about you, too, Steve. All the time. I know you have a job to do and I'd never try to stand in the way of that, but do you honestly think I don't get scared about you being in danger every day? Worry works both ways."

Trying to tread as lightly as possible, Steve ventured, "You're mad."

"I'm not mad," she replied before returning to the dresser to grab underwear.

"You sound mad," Steve placed a hand against her arm, gently turning her back around.

She looked up at him with a lump in her throat. "I'm disappointed."

He could see that in her eyes and it was actually worse than anger. "Catherine, I'm so sorry."

"I know," Catherine swallowed a sigh. "I believe you're sorry. But, you… you keep telling me you trust me yet I just hear the words, Steve. I'm not seeing any follow through in your actions," she revealed her deeper feelings on the matter. "I spent so many years in the Navy feeling inferior, working with men who constantly questioned my abilities. Dealing with their mindset that I was less than them, always feeling I had to earn their respect," she breathed outward. "You're the last person I expected that kind of treatment from."

"That's not true," Steve immediately hoped to rectify and indication of such an egregious misconception. "Last year when… you're the only person I ever would've agreed to walk into North Korea with to retrieve Freddie's body. I don't feel that I've ever treated you as inferior, Catherine. At least I never meant to," he amended. "But I guess my actions lately have only proven to you otherwise," Steve realized. "Catherine, I'm telling you now, honestly, I trust you more than just about anyone I've ever known."

"Don't just say it, show it," she insisted. "Prove it to me. Be honest with me. That's what you demanded of me, isn't it? When I kept your mother's secret to protect you. You were pissed because of that, and I swore I'd always be completely honest with you from that point forward."

"And I forgave you for that, Catherine," he tried to let her know he'd moved on from that indiscretion long ago. "This situation is completely different, and you have every right to be angry at me," Steve offered.

"I told you I'm not mad," Catherine sighed, tossing more articles of clothing into the suitcase.

"You keep saying that, but you are mad, Catherine," he stood in front of her again and lifted her chin, "Look at me, please," Steve implored. "I get that you don't want to be like your parents. You want to avoid fighting or admitting when you're upset. But it's not right to hold all that inside. People aren't perfect; you and I are certainly no exception to that rule. It's okay to fight and be upset sometimes. If you're mad at me then tell me."

"I'm not…" she couldn't even say it again. "Yes, okay, I'm mad at you. I'm pissed off!" her voice raised an octave. "Is that what you want to hear?"

"Yes," he nodded and took a deep breath, grateful that they were finally setting some emotions free. Steve wanted to kiss her, to hold her, but he was still utterly uncertain as to the fragile state of her mind. And his eyes could only seem to concentrate on her suitcase. "Should I… do you want me to help you pack your stuff?" Steve asked, hesitant of the ultimate fallout of his lie. "I know your old place has already rented again, but I could take you to a hotel for now or somewhere else if you want," he offered. "Anywhere."

"Why would I want that?" Catherine was confused by his offer.

"Because you…" Steve waved a hand at her suitcase. "You're upset enough to be packing and I figured…"

"I'm going to Russia," she replied.

He took a moment to digest that news. "That seems extreme, but…"

"I'm not leaving you, Steve," she finally understood what his fear was. "I'm just going to Russia for a job," her hands gently rubbed his forearms, trying to reassure him. "Billy arranged an assignment for us at the Winter Olympics in Sochi. We'll be part of a team setting up security measures for a week before the games start, and then we'll be assigned to a security detail for some of the US ambassadors and other dignitaries attending the ceremonies," Catherine explained.

"Oh," he realized.

Catherine smiled for the first time in weeks. "When I'm done with the job I'm coming home, here, to you," she assured him. "I told you that's the plan. I'll always be coming home to you. As long as that's where you want me to be."

He wrapped his arms around her, finally holding her close again. Steve didn't care how much the hug was hurting his injured shoulder; he didn't want to let her go. "It is," he whispered, feeling unworthy of the forgiveness he'd heard in her words: I'm not leaving you. "Why does three weeks suddenly seem so long?"

"It won't be," Catherine tried to reassure him, as well as her. "I've been away a lot longer," she reminded him. "And the time always flies, right?"

"If you say so," Steve kissed her cheek, not wanting to ever let go of her after realizing how close he'd come to losing her to his lie.

She pulled back a little. "I need to ask a favor."

"That's kind of a reversal," he noted with a soft chuckle. "Anything," Steve offered.

Catherine directed his eye to the big dog still curled on their bed like a cat. Trooper seemed to not have even noticed their spat. "Will you take care of Trooper for me while I'm gone?"

"Yeah, of course," he immediately agreed.

"I mean for real, Steve," Catherine's tone grew increasingly serious. "She needs to be outside several times a day and fed regularly, and you need to leave plenty of water for her when you're gone. And if you have a really long case you'll need to find someone who can come walk her and make sure she's taken care of. I know you weren't terribly won over by Molly and Wendy, but they have offered to watch Trooper if you need help."

"Cath, I can take care of Trooper on my own," he insisted.

"Isn't that what you said about Pinkie?" she asked.

Steve stared at her for a moment. "I… how do you know about Pinkie?" he wondered, though even as he asked the question Steve already knew the answer, "Mary told you about Pinkie. First of all, my sister's oddly named pet goldfish looked sickly from the start. And second, goldfish in general have about the same shelf life as a loaf of bread. I fed Pinkie every day when Mary was away on that Aloha Girls trip. It's not my fault it decided to do the backstroke on the morning she returned."

"The point is the fish died under your care," Catherine noted.

"Does my sister ever tell you good childhood stories about me?" he pouted. "Cath, Trooper and I get along great. And she's more into the dog paddling thing than the backstroke so I think we should be good. We'll probably have so much fun without you I doubt either of us will even miss you," Steve smiled.

"Liar," Catherine accused. She immediately regretted her choice of word when she saw his face, "Sorry."

He breathed out, knowing she hadn't meant to berate him. He was glad she was able to make a joke without dwelling on everything they'd just discussed. "Catherine, don't go."

"What?"

"We're so close to getting Adam and Kono home safely, and that's mostly due to your help. You've been instrumental in getting Intel on the Yakuza. You should be with us for that mission. Stay and work for Five-0," he offered.

She was rather shocked by his sudden proposal. "I have a job to do in Russia. I have a duty to Billy and this company I've helped him build."

"Leave Billy's security company and work with me and the task force," Steve repeated the offer.

"Steve, I…" Catherine sighed regretfully. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because you'd never be able to concentrate if I was in the field with you," she replied.

"That's not true," he denied her accusation.

Catherine frowned. "You've spent the last several weeks freaking out every time I was out of your sight because of this stalker case," she pointed out. "And I nearly fell to pieces today, practically bit some poor nurse's head off when I found out you'd been shot."

Steve knew she was right about those particular instances, but he wasn't ready to back down. "We've worked together before and managed to be completely professional."

"That was before I realized how much I love you," Catherine didn't hesitate to point out. But she could easily see he still had a hard time processing his emotions every time she spoke those words, which was why she hadn't said them much since Christmas. "I don't need you to say it back," she insisted. "I thought I made that clear. The words aren't nearly as important to me as the actions and the feelings behind them, even if those actions have been that of an obsessive worry-wart lately."

He breathed out, "So that's a no?"

"Why did you ask me to stay and work for Five-0 just now?" Catherine questioned. "Was it because you truly value the skillset I could contribute to the team? Or was it just a spontaneous means to keep me close because you're still worried?"

"Little of both," he admitted.

Catherine smiled, grateful of his honesty. "Until it's entirely the first one, my answer is no," she confirmed. "I think too much has happened recently to forge a working relationship on top of our personal one. And you're the one who encouraged me to take the job with Billy in the first place. I want to stand by that decision for now. That's not to say that maybe someday down the road we might be able to make it all work. But right now…"

He kissed her again, always impressed by her realistic sensibilities. "When do you leave?" Steve asked.

"Billy arranged a flight for me tomorrow," she replied. "He's flying out of San Francisco and we'll meet up in D.C. then fly the rest of the way together to Russia."

"So we have tonight?" he verified.

Catherine nodded. "We have tonight. And if I recall correctly, you're meant to be on bed R&R."

"There're a lot of ways to rest and relax in a bed," Steve arched his brow suggestively.

She laughed. "Yes, there are. Including reading, listening to music, sleeping…"

"You're a cruel woman," Steve retorted, though he instantly felt bad for saying those words. "Sorry, Catherine… I didn't mean…"

"Ugh," she groaned, taking him by the hand and guiding him back to bed. Catherine curled up beside him, but not just because Trooper and her suitcase were still taking up a goodly portion of their bed. "Can we please stop apologizing?" she asked with a hopeful tone.

"I'll promise if you promise," Steve offered.

"Promise," she replied without hesitation.

"So… maybe I should put on the dress whites and go wash some dishes? Start to repent?" he suggested.

Catherine's bark of laughter startled Trooper. The dog raised her head and aimed her big, dark eyes upon the two of them for a brief moment before deciding they were just the same crazy, but lovable, family she'd grown used to. "How about the black boxer-briefs…" Catherine replied as she gently petted Trooper with her foot. "Maybe a little vacuuming action, followed by some dusting," she laid her head against his chest. "And I'll consider that a good start."

"You got it," Steve kissed the side of her head. He sighed, still a little worried, though not so much about her safety as before. "Catherine…"

She heard the hesitation in his voice and wondered what else was troubling him. Catherine sat forward a little to look him in the eye. "What?" she prodded.

"I…" Steve regarded her with a heavy heart, feeling sad to know that anyone could think of her as inferior, "I just want you to know how very much I respect you, Catherine." He sat forward as well and clasped her hand in his. "From that first day we worked together in Intel I knew you were someone who held the job in high regard and would stop at nothing to get it done properly, you do that with everything you take on. I respect that, and I respect you," Steve asserted.

With more gratitude than she could ever relay in words, Catherine did her best to convey it with a kiss.

000

She rolled onto her side as the annoying buzz of her cell phone persisted.

Catherine groaned, not wanting to open her eyes fully for fear she'd never get back to sleep. Not that she'd been fully asleep to begin with. The first two weeks of her Olympic Games security assignment had left Catherine feeling like she was almost always on call. And even when she wasn't working the hotel was rarely quiet enough to sleep restfully, always bustling with the comings and goings of dignitaries, news media personnel and former athlete delegates.

She blindly groped the bedside table for the phone as it vibrated again. Catherine cracked her eyelids just a hair in order to swipe the screen and answer the call, not bothering to even take note of the caller's identity, "Hello?"

"Hello, pookie-bear."

She sat up a little, eyes opened fully as she glared at her phone, "Who is this?" Catherine asked.

"It's Steve."

It certainly sounded like his voice, but she was thrown by his choice of words. "What did you just call me?"

"I was trying out a pet name, thought maybe we could still give that a shot."

"Yeah, no," her head flopped back onto the pillow. "Promise you won't call me pookie-bear again," she groaned.

"How about Cutie?"

"No."

"Hot lips? Snookums?"

"Stop it," Catherine warned with a not-so-threateningly chuckle, swiftly worn down by his goofy tone. His voice seemed so relaxed she still wasn't even sure if it really was Steve. It seemed like a very long time since she'd heard him sound so cheerful.

"Would you prefer battle axe?"

That one certainly caught her attention. "Okay, now you've crossed a line, mister," she responded. "You are so lucky there's nearly eight thousand miles of land and ocean between us right now," Catherine felt sleep slipping away and she reached over to flick on her lamp.

"But a battle axe is a very cool weapon. I thought you'd approve. What did you think I meant?"

A small bubble of laughter escaped even as she tried to keep up pretenses, "I'll tell you what I mean… don't ever call me battle axe or pookie-bear."

"Sorry, Lieutenant," she could hear his chuckle over the line. "I won't let it happen again, on my honor."

"You weren't being serious at all, were you?" Catherine realized how much she'd missed the sound of his voice, relaxed or otherwise. They'd only been able to chat a few times the last two weeks and usually for a very short time because the fourteen hour time difference typically left one of them talking in the wee hours of the night.

"No, I'd never try to seriously call you pookie-bear and think I could live to tell about it."

"I wish I was home right now," she felt like a wimp for revealing that fact to him. "It's freezing here and I miss Trooper. How is she?"

"Really, you miss the sun and Trooper? That all?"

Catherine smiled. "I thought missing you was a given."

"Nice save, Lieutenant. As for Trooper, she's doing just fine. We had a nice meal together last night, chicken and rice kibble for her and a lovely grilled sea bass for me. Then we went for a moonlit run on the beach. And she slept next to me in bed. She's very cuddly and warm."

"Great, now I'm officially jealous of my dog," she lamented.

"You sound tired."

"I am," she sighed. "I keep thinking this jetlag fatigue of mine will end soon, but with all the activity going on around here I don't ever seem able to catch up with myself," Catherine was grateful to be able to talk to him. She couldn't very well complain about the job to Billy. "I've never had such a hard time adjusting to a different time zone before. Probably doesn't help that it's just after midnight here right now and I was on the verge of falling asleep."

"Oh, Cath… I'm sorry. I thought, shoot… I must have miscalculated."

"You can Google these things, you know?" she teased, not really upset at him.

"True…"

A different sort of buzzing caught her attention. Catherine's eyes focused on the exterior door of her hotel room.

"What was that sound?"

"Apparently some idiot is at my door at midnight," she sighed, turning the lamp off in an attempt to go unnoticed by anyone outside her door. "This place is pretty much going all hours of the day and night. If I'm quiet they'll go away," even as she said those words the door buzzer sounded again.

"Maybe you should see what it's about."

"Why?" Catherine asked, keeping her voice low.

"I don't know, could be something important."

She stared at her phone again, contemplating his odd comment. "Steve, do you know something about who's at my door that I don't?" Catherine kept the cell to her ear but practically leapt out of bed. She glanced down at her over-sized Olympic rings t-shirt and shrugged, figuring it was decent enough attire. Especially if her hunch was correct. Catherine opened the door with a hopeful look that was dashed the second she noticed a familiar young blonde man she knew to work at the hotel.

He happily presented a red, heart shaped box to her, "Delivery for you," his very well pronounced English was punctuated by a definite Russian accent.

"Spasibo," Catherine replied, taking the box from him. The simple reply earned her a small smile from the young man before he turned and headed down the hall.

"What happened?"

Catherine closed the door, "Someone just delivered a heart shaped box of chocolates."

"That was nice of someone. Who are they from?"

There was a shiny red card taped to the top of the box that she hadn't noticed until Steve had asked. She opened the card and read the message to him over the phone, "Chocolates will have to do for now. I promise you better than chocolate when you get home. Steve."

"Who's this Steve guy that's sending you chocolate?"

She chuckled softly and crawled back into bed, warm comforter pulled up high as she hugged the box against her chest. "Nobody special," Catherine replied.

"Do you like the gift?"

"Very much, thank you," Catherine realized she hadn't said that yet. "Not exactly what I was hoping might be at my door, but…"

"Cath, did you think I was going to be there?"

"Sorta," she admitted.

"You really are homesick, aren't you?"

"Never had a home to miss before," Catherine defended her sentiment.

"I wish I could've jumped a flight to Russia," she heard the sincerity in his voice. "I'd like nothing more than to be with you right now, either here or in Russia, but things have been kind of busy the last few days. Kono and Adam are expecting us in Hong Kong in five days to finish this Yakuza business."

Her head nodded even though he couldn't see her, "I understand that you're needed there, and my job is here right now," Catherine acknowledged as she ran a fingernail against the chocolate box's plastic seal. "It's just… every day here has reinforced my decision to leave the Navy and long overseas assignments behind. I keep telling myself it's only one more week and then I can be curled up in my own bed again, with you. And I'm never doing this again, local assignments only for me from now on."

"Maybe I should let you go before you get even more homesick."

"I do have to be up early tomorrow," Catherine noted. She'd opened the box but set it aside realizing she didn't need to add chocolate to the list of things keeping her awake. "Lenore Silva, the Brazilian ambassador to the US we've been guarding, is such a sweet lady. We got talking the other day and her twelve-year-old daughter takes figure skating lessons back in D.C., so I happened to mention skating when I was younger. Anyhow, the ambassador managed to get us all tickets to the Pairs long program tomorrow morning."

"That was incredibly nice of her."

"Yep, the job does have its perks. I've seen both Scott Hamilton and Brian Boitano eating breakfast in our hotel restaurant this past week and felt rather star struck," she admitted.

"I'm glad you're having some fun, and I guess I really should let you go and get some sleep."

She clutched the phone a little tighter, "Please don't, not yet. How are you? How's your shoulder feeling?"

"It's pretty much back to normal. You know I'm a quick healer. Don't tell mother-hen Chin, but I've been lifting some weights again."

"I won't tell," she replied in a sleepy voice, eyes feeling droopy again.

"Catherine…" there was a long pause after he spoke her name and she wasn't sure what was on his mind, though she prayed it was nothing bad. "Marry me?"

Her heart raced, eyes wide again as she stared at the phone for a second, unable to make sense of what she thought she'd just heard. "Did you…" Catherine wondered if maybe she'd fallen asleep and was having a strange dream. "Did you just ask me to marry you over the phone?"

"I did," his voice sounded very real to her ears.

And the disappointment in his words was evident. "Steve, I…" she realized that neither of them had brought the topic up after Danny's slip about the ring search. They'd been a little too busy with the bigger topic of his lie about the stalker at the time. "We've talked about marriage before," Catherine finally managed a few coherent words.

"Briefly, yes. And I remember you said you didn't think you ever wanted to get married, so I'm not sure why that just came out… your answer is still no?"

"No," Catherine swallowed. "I mean, I'm not saying no," she stumbled over what she'd meant to be a clarification, "I'm saying I think we should talk about it some more when I get home," she offered, knowing it was inevitable, "A lot more."

"That's better than no."

She could hear the sudden lightness in his voice and it made her miss him even more. "Steve, I'm sorry if that wasn't…"

"Catherine, no, you don't have anything to apologize for. Didn't we make that agreement, to stop apologizing so much? I jumped the gun. After wanting to ask you for so long and after the way you forgave me before you left I just got a bit ahead of myself. But you're right. We do need to talk about it more. And the last thing I want is for it to turn into me pressuring you. I want you to be ready, even if that means we don't get married until we're ninety."

"Really?" she was the one suddenly feeling undeserving of him in her life.

"Yes, really... you're worth waiting for, Cath."

000

"I'm sorry… could you say that again for me?" Danny prodded.

Steve sighed as he fiddled with the touchscreen remote control on the surface computer. It controlled all of the monitors, either individually or simultaneously and he was currently using it to channel surf at work, checking for any local news stories that might yield a case. Only a few hours ago Steve had told Catherine about his busy last two weeks, yet after months of planning and preparation for Kono and Adam's strike against the Yakuza, they were experiencing a strange lull on Valentine's Day.

He glanced over at Danny again, seeing the expectant look on his partner's face. "I asked Catherine to marry me and she turned me down, sort of," Steve repeated.

"And why did you choose that particular moment to ask her… over the phone?" Danny tried not to laugh.

"Because I was missing her and she was missing me, and it is Valentine's Day," Steve sighed, "I got carried away."

Unable to hold back any longer, Danny snickered. "I can't believe you, of all people, are actually lovesick. It's nice to know you're human after all, though. You get nervous and blurt out stupid stuff just like the rest of us non-Super SEALs. It makes me feel better. I mean… don't get me wrong, what guy wouldn't want to try that move? A phone proposal has got to be a lot less nerve wracking than doing it in person."

"That's nice, Danny. You're making fun of me?" Steve asked. "You know how many guys I overheard asking their girlfriends to marry them over the phone or over a Skype session when I was stationed overseas? Some of those same guys watched their kids be born from half way around the world, only got to say I love you or Merry Christmas to a computer screen image of their loved ones. They had to make the most of every moment, even if it was over a phone call."

Danny's smile faded a little as he leaned against the surface table. "Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," Steve replied, not meaning to get so worked up about it. He switched channels again as he rocked on his heels. "Come on. We've got to have some sort of case on this island… armed robbery, shoplifting, cat up a tree… anything?" he willed the TV to produce a crime from thin air.

"Nope, sorry," Danny responded. "Apparently criminals are romantics and take Valentine's Day off."

"I have some news you're not going to like," Chin announced as he joined them.

Steve frowned. "Why do the words, news you're not going to like, come out of your mouth a lot?"

Chin shook his head as he inserted a USB drive and took control of the table away from Steve. He glared at the man for opening way more files than necessary for a simple channel surfing operation. Finally he pulled an image up on the main screen. It revealed a large building, nondescript, mostly concrete with barely any windows. A low wire fence surrounded the structure and perimeter. And there was a jeep-type vehicle parked out front. "Wo Fat has been released to this minimum security facility in Shanghai."

"When, today?" Steve stood up straight, taking notice of the vehicle and the figure of a man in the back that appeared to be Wo Fat. "I thought they'd pushed it back again."

"All the CIA channels I've been monitoring maintain that Wo Fat is due to be released next week. But he's actually been in Shanghai for the last three days. They kept it extremely quiet, but I have a reliable source that sent me this picture. That same source also claims Wo Fat could be released within a year if he gives up more secrets," Chin reported.

Steve's fingers balled into fists at his side, still staring at the slightly grainy image of his greatest foe. "So a global threat, sociopath, who sells weapons and God only knows what else to our enemies - the man who ordered my father's death and has been gunning for my mother for twenty some years - is essentially free again," Steve shook his head in dismay. "Oh, and my mother gave Wo Fat some sort of information a year ago that may or may not be helping him, and of course she's off galloping the globe. Then there's Kono and Adam hiding out and planning a major strike against the Yakuza."

He exhaled slowly. "I'm actually glad Catherine is away from all of this right now. At least we haven't had any more pictures or notes show up this past month and a half."

"Seriously, you're happy she's in Russia?" Danny commented, "In a very cold place where people probably like to cuddle to stay warn, with a man she once had a relationship."

"They didn't have a relationship so much as a…" Steve shook off that thought. "You know what, it doesn't even matter to me anymore what she and Billy Harrington used to be. They're friends and business partners right now, nothing more. And she agreed to have a conversation with me about getting married, Danny. So even if she's not wearing a ring yet that means more to me than her working with Harrington."

"A lot of women wear rings. That doesn't stop men from going after them… or them from going after other men," Danny pointed out.

Chin tried to stifle a chuckle as he just watched the two, but Steve shook his head in outright annoyance, "Could you be a little more doom and gloom right now?"

"Sorry," Danny held his hands up, realizing he was being rather pessimistic about the topic. "Ever since Gabby and I broke things off I find myself thinking about Rachel more often, which is completely ridiculous because the two of us were just... it still stings when I think of what could've been that second time around and…" he shrugged, not wanting to dwell on it any further. "I really hate this holiday," he grumbled, eyeing Steve, "What are your plans for Valentine's Day?

"You do remember the part where Catherine is still in Russia," Steve noted.

"Yep," Danny grinned. "I was just hoping to make someone else feel as annoyed as I am about this lame non-holiday."

"Sorry, Danny," Steve replied. "Afraid I can't sympathize with you right now. I'm not even going to let this Wo Fat situation bring me down today. Catherine's willingness to talk about marriage is more than I could've hoped for. And she's probably about as safe as she could possibly be at the Olympic Games in Russia. With all those officials and athletes, security there is top-notch. Who'd be stupid enough to try anything there?"

Danny swallowed as he saw Chin motion for his attention. "Uh, Steve…" the detective immediately noticed what Chin was pointing at.

Steve followed their eyes to the far screen where he'd stopped on CNN a few minutes ago.

His relatively good mood plummeted as soon as he noticed the breaking news story headline scrolling across the screen.

000

She pushed the door buzzer and waited. When he didn't answer, Catherine pushed it three more times before finally trying his cell phone again.

Within a few seconds she could hear a phone ringing from inside the hotel room. Catherine frowned at the closed door. She ended the call and pulled out her hotel key card. Due to their security clearances, and the fact that most of the people housed in the hotel were under their security purview, they had access to almost every room in the hotel in case of an emergency. Catherine opened his door and stepped inside, cautiously taking a look around. "Billy?" she called out. "Are you in here, or did you just forget your phone?"

Catherine spotted his cell on the small table beside his bed.

The sound of running water caught her attention and she edged toward the bathroom. "Billy, you in there?" she asked but received no answer.

"If you're naked I suggest you grab a robe," Catherine gently warned. "I'm coming in," she only paused a moment before following through. The bathroom was warm and steamy, shower water running full-blast. When she noticed the shower curtain wide open and Billy not in it, Catherine turned it off. She turned, glanced around, and could see feet sticking out from behind the wall that partially hid the toilet area.

"Billy?" she dropped to her knees beside him. He was sitting with his back against the tile wall, slightly slumped over to one side, a white bathrobe on. Catherine noticed a trickle of blood running down his forehead and some along his bottom lip. "Why didn't you answer me?"

"Embarrassed… I slipped," he closed his eyes.

She could see pain radiating across his face. "So I noticed," Catherine tried to access the seriousness of his injury. "What are you, an old man slipping in the shower?" she did her best to lighten the mood. "Cut on your forehead doesn't look deep, shouldn't need stitches. Think you've got a concussion?"

"No… it was silly. I tripped over a towel and…" Billy got to his feet, but he instantly faltered, leaning heavily against the wall.

"Do you feel dizzy?" she went to his side.

He stood up straighter and made a small attempt to shake his head. "I'm fine," Billy took a single step and swayed again.

Catherine hooked an arm around his waist and sighed as they moved toward the main room. "You're not fine." Catherine wondered why she always seemed to be surrounded by pig-headed military men who never wanted to admit they were hurt. "Let's get you into bed," she caught a small smile on his face and rolled her eyes. "That was not a proposition."

"Too bad," Billy lamented.

She helped him get settled in bed and regarded him for a moment. "I'll grab you some water," Catherine went back to the bathroom, found a plastic cup and filled it. She was about to head back into the room when she noticed something on the counter. Catherine picked up the prescription bottle and carefully regarded the label. She read the words several times over, but couldn't quite make sense of their possible implication.

"You should go, Catherine," Billy said when she returned and handed him the water glass. "I know you've been looking forward to the figure skating event this morning. I'll call agent Darren in to help you run security for Silva and her family," he offered. "I feel foolish enough about tripping in the bathroom, I really don't need you hovering around," he smiled.

"Are you okay, Billy?" Catherine asked, looking him in the eye.

He held her gaze, "Actually, I'm better than I have been in a while. Did I tell you An came to San Francisco just after the New Year?" he watched Catherine shake her head. "I felt so guilty over the date that we'd made and I forgot about. The first day she was in San Francisco I asked her to marry me."

Catherine was more than a little surprised by that news, "Billy, you've barely known her for six months."

"Not everyone is like you and Steve," his words came out ruder than he'd anticipated. "I didn't mean that as a bad thing," Billy sighed. "For the two of you, taking things slow seems to work. But I know how very short life is, Catherine. Shorter than we ever realize," he stated. "An said yes to my proposal and I gave her my mother's wedding ring," Billy smiled. "I don't care if it's too soon, or if we don't work out. Even if we only last a year or a few months… what the hell," he shrugged.

She knew him well enough to know such a carefree attitude wasn't normal; at least it never had been before. Catherine was more than a little concerned about her friend. "Billy, what's going on with you? I know losing Marty was a huge blow last year, but now you want to marry a woman you barely know."

"Unless you want to marry me," he interrupted.

Her mouth hung open and she clutched the bottle of pills she'd stashed in the left pocket of her bulky parka. "Billy, what's going on?" she repeated her question.

"I just want to know what it's like to be married…" he trailed off, looking out the window. A spectacular view of the Black Sea shimmering under a dome of winter sunshine stared back at him. "I want to live my life, Catherine. I don't need Marty's money because I want to work. I want to feel like I've accomplished something in life, made a difference. And I want to know what it's like to be in love, to marry… I want to enjoy all of that."

"Billy," her voice croaked with emotion as she pulled the pills free from her pocket and revealed the bottle to him. "There's something you're still not telling me and I want you to be honest with me this time. No more talking in circles like you've been doing the last few months," she implored. "When I went back into the bathroom I found these," Catherine took a shallow breath. "And there weren't any towels on the floor for you to have tripped over."

"You're right, Catherine," he turned his attention away from the water and faced her, "There's something you should know."

000

"A lone male assailant has been captured after trying to attack an ambassador at the Sochi Winter Olympics in Russia."

Steve, Danny and Chin stood with their eyes glued to the TV as a female reporter spoke.

"Lenore Silva, a Brazilian ambassador to the US, seemed to be the target of the man's attack. Silva was attending the figure skating Pairs program with her family at the Sochi Games this morning when a man dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt and jeans approached them in the nearly packed ice arena. One of the ambassador's bodyguards, an un-named female security agent as of this report, apprehended the man but not without sustaining some sort of stab wound. The female agent was whisked to hospital while the ambassador and her family were immediately taken back to their hotel where other agents have secured them for now."

Danny and Chin could see the worry in Steve's eyes. "Probably wasn't Catherine," Danny offered. "There must be hundreds of security guards at the games, right?"

"Yes, but I know she was planning to be there today at that figure skating performance with the Silva family," Steve tried to keep calm as he turned away from the report on TV. "Chin, can you pull up the tracker program I had installed on Catherine's phone?" he knew the more tech-savvy man would be faster at it.

"She might not even have the phone on her, or it could be off if she's at the hospital," Danny said as Chin pulled the program open.

"The tracker I had installed works independently of the phone's battery. The phone can be off, even uncharged, and we should still get a location on it," Steve relayed. "Someone would have to crush or dismantle that phone for the tracker to go dead."

"Here," Chin zoomed into the area of Sochi, Russia along the east bank of the Black Sea. "I don't see anything," he reported.

"Can you zoom out some more," even as Steve made the request his cell phone rang, "Harrington," he answered the phone and put it on speaker so his friends could listen in. "Billy, what the hell is going on over there?" Steve demanded.

"Commander, I don't know if you've seen the news reports yet? We've had a hard time trying to keep this story…"

"I'm watching it right now," Steve interrupted. "Where's Catherine?"

"She's on a flight to Paris, should be landing soon, if not already."

Chin zoomed out even further and sure enough he found a small green blip hovering over the central northern part of France.

"Is she okay?" Steve asked, only slightly relieved to see the green dot and to hear from Billy. "The reporter said someone was stabbed, a woman…"

"Catherine was stabbed in the shoulder."

That confirmation didn't sit well with Steve, but he continued to listen.

"She was taken to the hospital for stitches, but another agent guarding her at the hospital assured me her injury wasn't that serious. And Catherine insisted on escorting Silva and her family back to the U.S. We at least managed to get Silva, her family and Catherine out of the country without the news reporters finding out those details."

Steve calmed down a little more as Danny came up beside him and shoved his cell phone under the man's nose. He saw Catherine's name on Danny's cell. Chin stepped in and took over talking to Billy as Steve grabbed Danny's phone. He answered while walking into his office, "Catherine?"

"Hey, your phone was busy so I called Danny… at least I thought I had."

"You did," he let out a sigh at the sound of her voice. "I heard you took a trip to Paris… slacking on the job, huh?" Steve tried to joke.

"How'd you know?"

"I just talked to Billy, briefly," Steve revealed. "That's why my phone was busy. Billy's assurance that you were alright didn't do much, though. I'm really glad you called. As soon as I heard the event was connected to the skating, I…"

"I'm glad Billy was there to call you. Everything happened so quickly earlier, then they rushed me to the hospital and… I wasn't even sure if I had my phone on me until we boarded the flight. Billy got my stuff together and thankfully it was in my bag…"

Steve could hear the fatigue in her tone. "Billy said you were stabbed in the shoulder?"

"Yeah, we'll probably have matching scars now."

"How romantic," he commented, worry still eating away at him.

"Security cameras show the guy made some sort of shiv from a bit of stainless fencing he pried off an entry gate."

"Jeez, I bet that was painful," he sympathized.

"Very. It wasn't exactly smooth or hygienic. I got a tetanus shot, so now both my shoulder and my butt are sore."

He winced, "Sounds like you haven't had a very good Valentine's weekend."

"Not so much, no. I did find out a little about the guy who attacked us, apparently he's part of a group called BSWR, Brazilian Soy Worker Rights."

"Soybeans have rights now?" Steve's brow bunched.

"No, it's a small movement to stop what some consider unsafe working conditions at several soybean factories in Brazil that export exclusively to American companies. It seems unlikely he traveled all the way to Russia to protest unfair working conditions, but that's our only connection at the moment."

Steve definitely found the whole thing odd, but focused on Catherine instead. "So where are you headed next?" He mainly wanted to know when she'd be home.

"I'll be on flight U8517, direct from Paris to Washington D.C. Actually I'm already on that flight. We're sitting on the tarmac in Paris waiting for the weather to clear. There's a bit of a snow storm here. When we do get to D.C., I'd like to make sure Ambassador Silva, and her family, are settled before I catch the next available flight home, hopefully Sunday."

"Sounds like a good plan," he couldn't help be proud of her for once again seeing her job through to the very end.

"I know you're gearing up for this Yakuza op in Hong Kong, but do you think you might be able to pick me up at the airport if I do get in on Sunday?"

"Try to stop me," Steve replied, thrilled at the prospect of seeing her a week earlier than expected.

"We, uh… there's something we need to talk about when I get home."

His heart thumped, worried by her tone shift, "Everything okay?" Steve had a feeling she was talking about more than their previous marriage discussion agreement.

"Not really, it's been a very strange day and Billy, he's… well, we'll talk when I get home. Feels like we're taxiing again so I should probably let you go. My shoulder is really sore and I'm hoping to just sleep the whole way to D.C."

"I hope so, too," he commiserated, knowing he wasn't going to be able to relax much, maybe not even sleep, until she was home again. "I'll see you soon, pookie-bear," he deliberately used the ridiculous pet name, hoping a bit of levity might downplay the serious ordeal she'd just been through.

"See you soon, butthead."

He could hear her soft laughter echo over the line even as the call ended. Steve was glad he could get her to forget things if only for a second, and even if he'd had to break a promise to do it. He exited his office and rejoined his friends. "I told Billy that you were in touch with Catherine," Chin said, "He had to get back to the investigation."

"And I'm guessing by that goofy smile on your face that Catherine is okay?" Danny immediately asked as Steve handed his phone back.

"She sounds tired and a little rattled, but she's safe and on her way home," Steve let out a relieved breath.

Danny clapped his friend on the back, thankful of that news. He glanced at his watch and cringed. "Crap, I didn't realize it was so late. I need to pick up Grace," Danny realized. "She went to a friend's house after school but I was supposed to pick her up at six and now it's nearly seven and I didn't plan anything for dinner…" Danny made his way to the door.

"Hey, Danny," Steve called after his friend. "Why don't you grab Grace and head over to my place tonight? I can pick up a pizza and some drinks on my way home. We can all hang out and watch a movie," he offered. "I'd appreciate the company to take my mind off Catherine not being home. Worrying about her isn't exactly the best way to spend an evening. I should know since that's been my mindset the last few months."

"So you want me to spend Valentine's night with you, my daughter, a pizza and the TV?"

"Trooper will be there, too," Steve noted.

"Oh, in that case it's a date," Danny grinned, "Never have been able to turn down an evening with a cute blonde."

Steve's attention turned to the other man in the office. "How about you, Chin? Want in on this Valentine's pseudo-bachelor party?"

"Actually, gentlemen," Chin sported a demur grin. "I have a date tonight."

The other two exchanged a quick nod of approval. "Will any of Leilani's friends be there?" Danny inquired.

Chin's smile grew a little bigger. "Not this time," he replied.

"Good for you," both Steve and Danny said at the same time, genuinely pleased for their friend.

000

By eight-thirty they'd consumed enough pizza and soda to keep them stuffed and wired all night long. The three of them were sprawled on the leather sofa, Grace sitting between her dad and Uncle Steve. Trooper lay curled up on the floor near Steve as the movie played out on the TV across the room. The main actress on screen had just said something about carrying a watermelon when the first really detailed depiction of the movie's title began to play out.

"You sure this Dirty Dancing stuff isn't too risqué for you?" Danny asked his daughter.

"It's from the eighties, Danno," Grace chuckled. "Besides, I've seen this before. And I've seen worse."

"Oh, you have, huh? Exactly what sort of movies have your mom and Stan been letting you watch? You ever heard of a movie called Poltergeist? That was from the eighties, too. And it still scares the bejesus out of me to think about it," Danny shuttered and could hear Steve's soft laughter at his comment. "You sure you don't want to watch some of the Olympic coverage?" he asked Grace, ignoring his friend. "Aren't they showing more ice skating tonight?"

The girl's eyes turned to Steve. "I'm still too upset about what happened to Catherine," she confessed, having heard the story when her dad picked her up earlier. "I think watching that would just make me worry about her."

Steve leaned over and kissed Grace's forehead. Then he got to his feet, a silly grin on his face, "Who wants cookies shaped like hearts?"

"Are you kidding me? More food? More sugar?" Danny lamented, patting his rather bloated belly. It took him a moment to actually grasp what his partner had just said. "You seriously have heart shaped cookies?" he asked without trying to hide his disbelief.

"I bought them," Steve shrugged, already half way to the kitchen door. "Not like I whipped up a batch during my free time," he said before disappearing into the kitchen.

"I hate to be the one to have to tell you this, monkey, but your Uncle Steve is one seriously lovesick puppy," Danny relayed the news to his daughter in a serious tone. "Never thought I'd see the day, but he's definitely gone over the edge."

Grace giggled as she continued to watch the movie.

Steve returned from the kitchen a few minutes later with a plate of cookies, but his ear was attached to his cell phone. "Yeah, I got it," he said to the person on the other end, looking to Danny with a flash of disappointment. "Thanks for letting us know, Duke. We'll handle it from here, and hopefully bring our guy in to you later tonight," Steve ended the call with a regretful sigh. "HPD just got a tip from a man at a pawn shop across town. Apparently he gave them a description of someone trying to sell what he thought was stolen goods. His report sounds like our jewelry thief's partner, Marcus Bellows. I told Duke we'd go talk to him tonight."

"Danno, no," Grace complained as she grabbed a cookie off the plate, knowing exactly what all of that meant for their evening.

"Sorry, monkey," Danny got to his feet and motioned for her to get up. "I'll have to drop you at your mom's."

Remembering what Catherine had once told her about her dad's job being important and having to enjoy what little time they did get to spend together, Grace didn't protest any further. She dutifully grabbed her bag by the door while Danny shut the movie off and Steve hid the cookies from Trooper. "I can't wait till Aunty Catherine gets back. She promised me an eighties movie marathon, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club… and she'd never allow any interruptions," the girl obediently followed Steve and her dad out to the car.

After dropping Grace off, Danny and Steve arrived at the pawn shop. The place was lit with nearly two dozen super bright florescent tubes that caused everything to practically glow a nasty shade of neon yellow. There were no dark corners for anyone to try and sneak a small trinket into their pocket. "Was he armed?" Steve asked first off.

"Not sure, could've been. Dude was real sketch, like shaking and everything, probably high on something," a middle aged man stood against a backdrop of old stereos, DVD players and karaoke machines. He was stout with a salt and pepper beard that touched his chest. "The jewelry he was trying to hock was seriously sparkly, had to be the real deal, diamonds and gold. He had a little of everything. I don't touch new stuff, too much likelihood it was stolen," he said.

"You know any place that might take his stuff?" Danny asked.

Steve watched the man's eyes roam the store in avoidance of their question. "You told him something, didn't you? Where's he headed?"

"There's this old lady runs an antique shop with her husband, they do a killer good business with tourists," the shop owner finally revealed. "She's pretty feeble, though, been known to buy stuff that she probably shouldn't, real and fake, new or old. I sent your boy there, but I told him not to show if the old man is there. That old cat is seriously wrinkled but totally with it," the man tapped the side of his head. "He's been trying to crack down on the guys using his wife. I haven't sent anyone their way in months, maybe even a year."

"So you sent this guy over to take advantage of a little old lady?" Danny scoffed. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"We all gotta make a living, man," the shop owner shrugged. "Besides, I called HPD, didn't I? Done my good citizen gig."

"You have an address?" Steve didn't care about the man's attitude, only the case.

The antique store turned out to only be a few blocks west from the pawn shop. The store's interior lights were still on when Steve and Danny arrived at nine-thirty. A plain paper sign with sharpie marker words was taped in the window, advertising that the store stayed open until six every night. But a special pink-paper sign was affixed beside it, specifically stating that they'd be open until ten o'clock the night of Friday the 14th, Valentine's Day, "For special gift needs," Steve read the line beneath the time.

Danny gazed at the display window. "Because nothing says romance like a rusty old tractor seat. Who even buys something like that?"

Steve opened the door and a gentle tinkle of bells chimed. The interior held a musty smell with hints of apple-cinnamon potpourri. "Bellows could be desperate enough not to care if only the male owner is available…" Steve trailed off, spotting a slight, gray-haired man behind a glass display counter. "Danny…"

"I see him," Danny and Steve pulled their weapons at the same time and aimed as they rounded the corner.

Standing next to the old man was Marcus Bellows, a shiny silver gun pressed against the store owner's neck. "Good evening, gentlemen," the proprietor greeted them cordially over the soft hum of a muted TV behind the counter. "I was just trying to explain to this young man here that I do not keep very much cash on the premises, not since my dear, yet overly trusting, wife passed away six months ago. But our friend doesn't seem interesting in listening to reason."

"There's no way out for you this time, Bellows," Steve warned, eyeing the man who'd shot him in the shoulder a few weeks ago.

The young man's hands were shaking. "I just want the money, not trouble," Marcus insisted.

He was early twenties with shockingly blonde hair and a dark tan, the same as his robbery partner Malcolm. Steve and his team had figured out the two young men were brothers, abandoned to foster care at a young age. They'd spent most of their teenaged year's pickpocketing money and jewelry off unsuspecting tourists. And when that had become less of a novelty to them they'd graduated to armed robbery and drug dealing. "You won't get any money here," Steve assured the young man. "So how about we do this as easily as possible. You put down that gun and everyone walks out of here on their own two feet."

Marcus gripped the weapon tighter. "Then what, jail?"

"Yes, for a while," Steve answered. "After that you can get clean, start over. I'm not saying it'll be easy, but I know some people who can help if you give them a…"

"No one's ever going to give a damn what happens to me," Marcus spat as he roughly pushed the shop owner to the floor, jumped and slid over the counter.

Steve didn't want to risk shooting while the old man was still near the counter. Instead, he pursued Marcus as the young man headed for a back staircase. "Danny!"

"Go, I've got things here!" Danny shouted as he knelt beside the owner and checked him over.

The antique shop was packed with stuff. Handmade quilts and knitted blankets draped over old oil barrels or wooden drying racks. On his way up the stairs, Steve passed shelves that lined the walls and reached the ceiling, stacked with dusty tattered books, ancient fishing equipment, real metal toys and gardening implements. There were dark wood cabinets adorned with green and orange glassware, milk bottles from the twenties, gas station signs from the fifties and eight track tapes.

Steve felt like he was running through a time capsule as he climbed the creaky wood stairs and entered a room packed with old furniture. Velvet covered settees and worn leather winged back chairs, Persian rugs, antique wooden beds and vanity sets all crowded the space. There were plenty of places to try to hide, but the old building creaked and groaned with every tiny movement. Steve heard Bellows in the far left corner. A vanity mirror betrayed the young man, revealing his back to Steve.

Moving as slowly as possible, Steve managed to sneak up behind Bellows. He caught the man's arm, but Marcus was quick to react. His silver gun swung around and aimed at Steve.

"I'm not going to jail like Malcolm," he swore. "I'm going to make enough money so he and I can get away from here when he gets out. Go somewhere to start over. I'm his big brother, it's my job to take care of him," Marcus squeezed the trigger.

Crouching at the last minute, Steve swept Bellows' legs out from beneath him.

Marcus' gun was dropped and skittered beneath a massive cherry wood four-poster bed. Bellows crawled on his belly to try and retrieve it. Steve caught the guy's right pant leg and struggled to keep hold of him. Marcus kicked out with his free leg and caught Steve in the left shoulder, exactly where he'd been shot by Marcus two weeks ago. With gritted teeth, Steve fought through the pain and got ahold of both legs. He drug Marcus out, grabbed both his hands and pinned them behind the man's back.

"Man, no one else's going to look out for us," Marcus fought against Steve. "I'm all Malcolm has. We're all either of us has."

Steve cuffed the youngster and hefted him to his feet. "Then set a better example for your brother," he offered. "Show him you can change."

Those words caused Marcus to quiet and stop struggling.

After recovering the weapon from beneath the old bed, Steve handed Marcus over to Duke and two other uniformed HPD officers. Then he went to see how Danny and the shop owner were doing. Danny was still with the man who seemed to be uninjured and in a surprisingly lively mood. "Boys, I haven't seen action like that since I was a much younger man working as a beat cop on the streets of Chicago." He smiled to see Steve was okay. "My name is Sandor Fileas, but you may call me Sam. I thank you for your service, sir."

Steve exchanged a curious glance with Danny, but he shook the man's hand. "Commander Steve McGarrett," he said. "I'm glad you're okay. You were a cop?"

"Retired about twenty-five years, after which my wife and I moved here to try something completely different," Sam grinned as he noticed Steve's gaze dip a little, seeming to catch on something inside the glass case where they all remained huddled. "If there's something there you'd like to see closer…" Sam offered.

"Oh," Steve looked up. "Just admiring that ring," he pointed.

Sam's eyes widened with approval. "This one here," he opened the cabinet and pulled free a small green velvet box. "Don't let this cheap dime store box fool you, son," Sam held the ring out for Steve. "Go ahead, take a closer look," the older man insisted, handing it over. "That is a classic English carved ring dating from the Victorian period, 1889 to be exact. All handcrafted, completely original and one-of-a-kind. 18 karat rose gold. A strikingly rich royal-blue sapphire flanked on each side by mine-cut diamonds. The sides and shoulders are beautifully adorned with elegant scrollwork. And the three gemstones are dotted by tiny rose-cut diamonds on the corners," Sam explained.

"You don't see craftsmanship like this anymore these days," the store owner noted.

"It's gorgeous," Steve remarked, never seeing a ring quite like it, certainly not in the shop where he'd spent hours looking at dozens of rings, all of them modern and unremarkable. The ring he was holding now seemed subtly intricate. It had character that no new ring could duplicate.

"You have someone in mind for that ring," Sam replied, not posing his words as a question but a statement of fact. "If you're wondering whether it could be used as an engagement ring," the man further ventured a guess, "I assure you that this ring would make a fine engagement gift. Any ring can be used for engagement purposes. There really are no rules governing such things. And it has been said that sapphires are symbolic of faithfulness and truth, worthy traits of a lasting union," Sam smiled. "This ring here was designed one hundred and twenty-five years ago specifically for my grandfather, who was also Sandor Fileas."

"That so?" Steve was suddenly a little wary of the man's tale. "You seem like the type who could weave a good story to make a sale."

"You're an officer of the law, I can understand your skepticism," Sam did his best to appease the man. "Of course I can only give you my word that what I tell you is the truth. My wife was the one prone to telling tales in order to secure tourist's money. But I take you for a local."

Steve nodded and shared a look with Danny, neither of them exactly sure of the man's character. "Hundred and twenty-five years, I take there's a story behind this ring?" Steve asked.

"One of true love and tragedy," Sam's voice grew solemn, but he didn't wait to be prodded any further, "My grandfather came to the United States from Greece. Men from the US Navy brought him to this country as a young boy, told his parents they could give him a better life. The Navy men nicknamed him Sam because it was easier to pronounce, and it stuck. He was educated and well taken care of. And when he was finally eligible, he joined the US Navy, like those men who'd helped him. He wanted to be American through and through, prove that he belonged, work hard and give back to the fine country that had welcomed him in," Sam explained.

"And I'm guessing somewhere in this story he meets a woman," Danny interjected.

"Who's telling this story, son?" Sam winked at Danny, not offended by the interruption. "Yes, of course he met a beautiful young woman. Caroline Hallsey, a gorgeous blonde haired and blue-eyed girl from a very wealthy family. Supposedly her ancestors came over with the Mayflower and made a decent living for themselves as farmers, cattle barons, fur traders and eventually business men. Caroline actually held a job in a library in New York, which her family privately owned. My grandfather stumbled upon it one day and began to visit her as often as he could. Made up stories about wanting to research the history of his non-birth homeland, but she knew why he was really there," Sam smiled slyly. "Inside that library they discovered a mutual love of French poetry and Italian artwork, among other things."

"He asked for her hand in marriage and she agreed, though they kept their plan secret due to her family's dislike of Sandor," he continued. "My grandfather was not daunted by his pursuit of love, but he was deterred due to being shipped out later that year. And in those days boats did not sail as quickly as they do now. He was away for years, but he kept a journal, every entry addressed to Caroline. And when he was in London he had that ring you're holding right there," Sam pointed to Steve. "Forged by a talented jeweler. He had saved every cent for several years in order to get a special ring for Caroline, to prove his richness to her family. Grandfather tied that ring securely to the leather straps that held his journal together. He carried them both everywhere. But on their journey home to the US, my grandfather's ship was sunk in a terrible storm."

"Are you having a go at me?" Steve finally asked. "How is this man your grandfather if he died at sea?"

"I said his ship sunk, I did not say he died," Sam pointed out.

Danny chuckled. "He's right."

"Sorry," Steve acknowledged his mistake, surprised he was actually interested in the story. "What happened to him after the storm?"

"Sandor was rescued by Portuguese fishermen and taken to the island of Madeira in the Azores," the old shop keeper regaled. "He was nursed to health but he didn't remember who he was or where he'd been going during the storm that had capsized his boat. And unfortunately all of the ink on his journal pages had been washed clean. But he still had the ring, and the ring helped guide him home."

"You sure his name wasn't Frodo?" Danny piped up again.

"I'm sure," the man replied, catching the Lord of the Rings reference of his dubious audience. "One friend he made on the island researched and identified the jeweler mark on the ring. They discovered it had come from England. Those island fishermen had next to nothing but they managed to get my grandfather back to England. The jeweler remembered him. And Sandor Fileas eventually made his way back to the United States on a Navy vessel. Of course by the time he finally returned home, fifteen years had passed."

Steve sighed. "Makes an eighteen month deployment seem easy," he remarked.

"Caroline Hallsey was thirty-three by then, an old woman in those days, at least for one to remain unmarried. But she had done just that, her heart settling for none other than her true love who'd been lost at sea," Sam recalled. "It took nearly ten more years before my grandfather's memories resurfaced. He'd retired from Naval service and had moved west a short distance, settling in Chicago. He didn't know at that time but Caroline had moved to the same area to be with her widowed sister and three nieces."

"And she still hadn't married at forty-three?" Danny asked, finding himself engrossed by the story.

Sam shook his head. "She'd been considered an old maid years earlier. Caroline paid little heed to such thinking, though, and she had become a nurse instead. One fateful day, Sandor walked into the clinic where she worked. He'd been injured at the factory where he was working, needed stitches to his forehead. They looked into each other's eyes and even twenty-five years later they were overwhelmed with love. Grandfather Sandor swore that his memories returned in that very moment that he laid eyes on her again. They were married straight away, Caroline wearing the ring he had carried with him all those years. She gave birth to a baby later that year."

"She was a bit old for that, wasn't she?" Steve asked.

The man nodded, "In those days more so than now. Unfortunately she died in childbirth. But the baby boy, my father who was also named Sandor, was perfectly fit and happy. Never had a medical trouble until his death at age 84," Sam recalled. "After Caroline passed, my grandfather wore the ring around his neck on a chain until he took it off a week before his death. He handed it to me and told me the story that I just told you. He didn't remember that he'd told me the story twenty or more times already," he chuckled softly.

"I was married by then and my wife wore a ring I'd bought for her," Sam recalled. "But my grandfather entrusted that ring to me for a reason. I've always believed it was meant for someone special. Surprisingly, no one has shown it any interest. Until you," Sam looked Steve in the eye. "Who is the woman you wish to give this to?" he knowingly asked.

"Her name is Catherine," Steve instantly replied, "But I…"

"Look inside the band," Sam gently interjected.

Feeling an odd kinship with Sam, Steve did as instructed. He spotted a few markings he didn't understand, what he assumed were the jewelers identifying marks. Then he noticed what he guessed Sam had been insistent about. "S+C 1884," he read aloud.

"Sandor and Caroline, the year they met, not the year the ring was made," Sam explained. "Steve and Catherine, you have the same initials," he noted the similarities. "It's fate that you are the first to be interested in this ring."

"I don't believe in fate," Steve placed the ring back in the box, sat in down on the glass counter and slid it over to Sam.

The older man didn't touch the box. "But fate believes in you, Steve McGarrett. It brought you here to the ring."

"Actually, a man trying to fence stolen goods brought me here tonight," Steve resisted.

Sam laughed; a hearty belly laugh that resounded through his spacious store. "You're a stubborn one. I like you," he eyed the ring again. "The sapphire has been called the stone of destiny. You should take the ring and give it to your true love. The ring will assure that the two of you will always come home to one another."

Even as reluctant as he was to believe in Sam's fanciful tale of true love and fate, Steve was tempted by the ring. He was intrigued by the man's words which somewhat echoed Catherine's promise to return home to him. He'd been drawn to the ring, its simple beauty reminding him instantly of Catherine. "It's a family heirloom," Steve's head shook. "I couldn't just buy something like that."

"I don't want you to buy it," Sam replied. "I want you to take it. Call it a gift for saving my life," he said, sliding the box back to Steve.

"That was just me doing my job as usual," Steve insisted.

"My wife, Agatha, and I were not blessed with children," Sam regretfully informed them. "That means I am the end of the Fileas line for my family. There is no one to pass this ring along to. I lost my dear wife recently, and I'm due to turn eighty in a few weeks so my time here is limited. And I am assured the state will seize this property and everything else within the shop when I'm gone. I'd rather the ring go to its rightful owners than to tax collectors."

Realizing how much he really did want the ring, Steve pulled his wallet out. "I'm going to pay you for it. How much is the ring worth?"

"What do you have?" Sam asked.

"Only sixty-five in cash right now, but…"

"I will take your sixty-five as full payment," the older man agreed.

"Sam, are you trying to hustle me?" Steve questioned the nearly eighty-year-old man, "You know I'm going to have this ring checked out by someone I trust. And if it's anything other than a Victorian period rose gold and sapphire ring as you've led me to believe, I'll be back here for my sixty-five bucks."

The man nodded. "I know we have only just met, Commander McGarrett, but I would expect no less from you."

Realizing he may have met his match when it came to stubbornness, Steve eyed the ring again. "If this ring is really a hundred and twenty-five years old, handcrafted and original… it would be worth a couple thousand, right, at least?"

"I will take your sixty-five dollars for it," Sam repeated, "But only that much, and only because I see you are the type of man who will not just take something. You are a proud man much the same as I am," he smiled.

Steve sighed in defeat and handed over the money, pretty well assured that the older man was in no way trying to con him. In fact, he could see how happy his decision made Sandor; the man's smile reflecting a kind of pleasure only derived from an ultimate feeling of graciousness. As he put away his wallet and picked up the ring box again, Steve shot Danny a warning look. "You have to swear to me that you'll never tell Catherine I only paid sixty-five dollars for this ring."

Danny chuckled as he nodded. "I swear," he agreed, happy that his friend finally seemed to be on the right track. But the jovial mood in the antique store was dampened when Danny noticed the TV news program that was playing behind Sandor. "Can you turn that up?" he asked the shop owner.

All three men turned eyes toward the TV as Sam raised the volume. They watched silently as a CNN news reporter gravely divulged information on another breaking story.

"For those just joining our broadcast, U.S. bound flight U8517 which left Paris at 9am local time has crashed into the North Atlantic Ocean while in route to Washington D.C. It is believed that Brazilian Ambassador Lenore Silva, the woman who was the target of an attack earlier today at the Winter Olympic Games, was aboard this flight with her family; husband and two young children. Initial reports have indicated there was some sort of large explosion, and witnesses on a nearby cruise ship claim the plane was broken in half and on fire as it made impact into the ocean roughly five hundred miles off the Eastern coast of the United States."

"All we have to go on at this point is purely speculation, but some are saying this could be part of a larger scale terrorist attack. Others believe it was most likely an isolated incident, something to do with the de-icing of the craft in Paris. Of course we here at CNN headquarters will keep you alerted on all the latest details as we receive them. However, at this point, whether it was an act of terrorism or not, it seems unlikely that anyone aboard flight U8517 could've survived what we've been hearing described as a massive explosion and two burning halves of the aircraft crashing into the Atlantic Ocean."

While the reporter began to rehash the few details again, Steve looked down at the ring in his hand and wondered if it was cursed.

---

To be continued…