You Owe Me

by njborba

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

12. Chapter 12

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

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You Owe Me
Part 12

By
N. J. Borba

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"Do you remember the note?" Steve asked as the GPS chirped about their turnoff being a mile ahead.

"The threatening note you read earlier today?" Danny's eyes narrowed a little in thought. Although he was grateful his partner's driving had mellowed a little the last several miles of their trip, he was still very much worried about Steve's state of mind, "That was just earlier today, right? I'm so tired I can barely remember what day it is."

"Thanksgiving night was two days ago," Steve was plenty tired as well. None of them had slept much the last forty-eight hours. He'd gone through rigorous sleep deprivation training in the SEAL program, learning coping techniques. But that training had never prepared him to deal with the emotional drain he felt now. Not knowing where Catherine was, if she had a plan or was in danger – those thoughts were worse than any lack of sleep.

"One of the notes sent to me last year," Steve clarified, "It said something about Catherine being returned, but that she wouldn't be the same."

Danny nodded, the unfortunate memory of reading that note returning to mind. "Why don't we turn around, head back to HQ and get Chin and Kono out here to handle this for…"

"We're here now, Danny," Steve turned the black Camaro off the main road.

The driveway was short, not far off the main highway and ending in front of a large three-car garage. It was a stone structure, new construction. Steve and Danny exited the car, finding a sandy path around the left side of the garage. The track turned into a stone stairway leading to a lower level where the house sat. The house was large, but not ostentatious - simple sandstone and glass, two-story with private beachfront. There were neighbors on either side, close but separated by a great deal of vegetation and fencing.

Danny pressed the doorbell and a man answered almost immediately. "Mr. Russell?"

Kono had given them what little information she had on the case, a Mr. and Mrs. Russell living in Hau'ula. No details at all about the missing person.

"Call me Larry, please," the man stepped aside to allow them entrance. He wasn't terribly tall, dark brown hair with a lot of gray along the sides. His brown eyes were clouded with worry as he closed the door and ushered them further inside to a large living room. Vaulted ceilings greeted them, and glass windows banked the east wall of the room providing an unending view of the ocean. "I'm glad you could come so soon. My wife, Janet, and I…" Larry motioned toward the woman seated on a black leather sofa in the middle of the room.

Janet had short, dark brown hair with very few grays. She wore a pale green dress with two side pockets and had bare feet pressed against the white stone floor. A slight woman who looked decidedly upset, like she'd been crying for a while. Her eyes were focused on something clutched in her right hand, "We, uh… weren't sure who to call," Larry continued.

"I understood this was about a missing person?" Steve asked, glancing around the house. It was clean and barely looked lived in. Other than one sofa and a matching chair there was no other furniture in the living room. A look over his shoulder to the open kitchen revealed a similar situation. Very few dishes in the glass-front cabinets, nothing on the counters aside from some fruit and a few pieces of mail. It was either a rental or they'd only recently moved in.

"Our baby is missing," Larry finally revealed.

"Baby?" Danny was surprised by the calm manner in which the man spoke. "Why wasn't that part of your report? Missing baby should be on an amber alert."

"We, uh…" the man turned to his very quiet wife, "We didn't want to make much fuss. No news or anything like that."

Steve was instantly alarmed by their behavior. "How old is your child? When did the baby go missing? Do you have any photos we can use for the media?"

"About three months old," the man shrugged a little as he said it, "And we didn't realize the baby was gone until, I'm not even sure how long after..."

"Please," the woman finally spoke to them, green eyes begging them, "You have to find our daughter."

"Son," Larry interrupted. "She means our son," he shifted his stance beside her, one hand against her shoulder, "My wife… uh… she's still a little confused. We adopted a few months ago and originally had been told the baby would be a girl, but turned out to be a boy. These things happen," Larry's tone remained relatively composed. "Janet was out on the beach earlier this afternoon. She had the baby monitor with her," he pointed to the item still clutched in his wife's hand, "The baby was upstairs napping. I was in my office downstairs with the door closed.… I never… I swear I didn't hear anything. I can't believe someone would do this to us, not after everything else we've been through."

"We don't have any pictures with us," Janet spoke up again, "We're in the middle of moving. My husband runs an internet distribution business so he can work from anywhere and…"

"What about on your cell phones?" Steve interrupted. "We really need to get a picture out to the public as soon as possible."

Her head shook, "No, I'm sorry. I had some but transferred them to our laptop before we left home, and the airport lost our laptop."

"How about your house alarm," Danny questioned, growing frustrated with the way both parents seemed to be acting rather odd about the whole case. They were clearly upset, but something was off about them, "I noticed a panel by the front door. Fancy place like this, seems you'd want to keep people out. Didn't you have it set?"

"There's a functioning alarm, but it was the middle of the day. We keep the doors open, windows open, let in a fresh breeze," Larry replied.

Danny and Steve exchanged a look, both of them feeling like something was still very wrong. "Baby's room is upstairs, you said?"

Larry nodded, "Second door on the left."

"Mind if we have a look around?" Steve was already moving that direction with Danny close behind him.

"Not at all," the man replied.

"You and your wife should stay put, check your cell phones again, see if there's a picture you might've overlooked," Steve instructed as he and Danny took to the stairs. "What're you thinking?" he asked his partner as soon as they were far enough away to not be overheard.

"Something is messed up here," Danny finally voiced his opinion, "Parents know exactly how old their kids are, like down to the day, adopted or otherwise - none of this about three months stuff. You usually count in weeks for a while and then months for a couple years. And who doesn't at least have a cell phone snapshot of their baby, or two dozen of them? Transferred them all? Not buying that story."

"And I'm guessing they should know the baby's gender by the time it reaches three months," Steve agreed something was very off about the whole situation. He didn't realize quite how off until they approached the second door on the left. They stepped into the baby's room and found four plain white walls, no pictures, artwork or letters spelling out a baby's name. Steve realized he hadn't even asked what the baby's name was.

There was cream colored wall-to-wall carpet and a portable crib. But no dresser, no changing table, nothing in the closet, no clothes.

Danny looked down into the crib, "No blankets, not a stuffed animal in sight. Nothing," he said, also noticing the plain white vinyl blinds on the windows.

Steve knelt down and picked up a baby monitor off the floor beside the crib, "At least that part of their story checks out," he stood again. "Except," Steve noticed something right away about the device, "It's been turned off on this end," he showed Danny the switch. "Maybe we can get a print."

They searched the rest of the second floor, finding two more bedrooms that were completely empty, one bathroom with no towels or toiletries. The master bedroom had a bed with green sheets and white comforter, closet filled with suitcases and men's and women's clothes, bathroom with a few toiletries, but not a single personal item in sight. "They did say they were moving in," Steve shrugged.

"I guess," Danny agreed as they moved toward the stairs, "Most of their stuff might not have gotten shipped here yet. But if you travel with a baby you have baby gear."

"We haven't found much of that yet," Steve noticed, directing his thoughts elsewhere, "And I didn't notice signs of forced entry in the baby's room."

"Nope, and none of the windows on this second floor are even open," Danny had detected, recalling what Larry Russell had said about letting in a breeze.

When they returned downstairs they could see the couple in the living room, Janet seated on the sofa in the same spot, Larry pacing and wringing his hands. Danny silently indicated to his partner that they check out the kitchen. "There should be a high chair, right?" Steve guessed, "Maybe some baby food or…"

"At three months old, maybe not," Danny countered, "Most babies aren't ready for high chairs at that age, and he… it was a he, right?" he watched Steve nod. "Could still be breast fed exclusively," he offered an explanation for the lack of formula or bottles in the kitchen.

"Danny," Steve opened two wood pantry doors. "There's nothing in here. There aren't even any diapers anywhere."

"I've got a really weird feeling about all this, something doesn't add up," Danny agreed as he spotted a piece of mail on the counter. "And I think I just figured out why," he waved the cardboard item at his partner and watched Steve's eyes widen. The two of them marched back into the living room and Danny brandished the card. "Did you two buy a baby last night on a boat called the Kappa-Shui gui?" Danny questioned.

"Please try not to insult our intelligence by lying, since my partner is holding your invitation to that event in his hand," Steve pointed out. "We were on that boat last night and know that babies were being auctioned off," he concluded.

Larry stopped pacing. He stood behind his wife, both hands pressed against her shoulders. "Does that really matter right now? Our baby is missing."

"Yeah, it matters," Steve scoffed at the ridiculous comment, "Buying a baby is illegal, which means he's not yours. So we're going to arrest you in a few minutes. But first we really need to know everything about what happened here and why someone would steal the baby you just bought."

"The deal was finalized last night," Larry shrugged, squeezing his wife's shoulders a little more. "We paid in full with cash. That's the only form of payment they would take. They gave us the baby, the documents, and then they let us go. Last night we drove back here, fed the baby. He slept for only a few hours, my wife fed him again…" he sighed. "It went that way until just a few hours ago. I needed to get some work done and Janet went out to get some fresh air while the baby was asleep."

"Was anything else taken?" Danny asked.

"Our rental, it was a black town car. Not something we would normally drive, but it was all the airport rental had available," Larry explained. "The garage is separated from our house and we're very close to the highway, we didn't hear anything that seemed out of the ordinary."

Steve turned to Danny, both of them starting to wonder the same thing. "Do you know the license plate number?"

"No, but it's probably on the rental form," Larry went to the kitchen, retrieved it and handed it over to them.

Danny glanced at it and sighed, recognizing the number, "Plates match the car we found Evan in," he confirmed their suspicions, seeing the conflicted look on his partner's face when he used the baby's name. Steve looked more freaked out than when they'd figured out Evan might be his son. "Earlier you said daughter, then corrected yourself to say son, why? I know it has nothing to do with him being adopted. Did you forget the baby was a boy?"

Janet shared a look with her husband before they both nodded. "We tried to adopt once," she spoke again, voice soft and filled with concern, "Back in Oregon we... we tried for ten years to have a child on our own, invitro, sperm donations, even entertained the option of a surrogate. But after giving up on those options two years ago, we started the adoption process for a baby girl. The mother was a teenager, baby wasn't even born yet when we were introduced. It was all arranged through a proper agency, we paid for medical expenses…"

Sensing his wife was unable to continue, Larry took up the story, "When the baby was born she was given straight to us. We named her Abigail after my mother. We loved her like our own, but then… thirteen weeks in, her birth mother changed her mind. It was within the time limits, within her rights. We tried to fight it, but Abigail was taken from us. We couldn't go through that again, the possibility of another baby being taken away, so…" he moved around and sat next to his wife, holding her hand.

"So you decided to buy a baby," Steve was surprised by their stupidity, although he could see how much pain losing their adopted child had caused them. "Last night you believed you'd bought a female baby, didn't you?"

"Yes," Janet nodded. "But when we got back home here, we…"

"Discovered he was a boy," Danny guessed, "Wrapped in a pink blanket and everything."

She nodded again. "At that point I didn't care," Janet had a tear running down her right cheek. "I was ready to love him, give him a good life, but maybe I was just never meant to be a mother," she cried, falling into her husband's arms.

"What else was taken besides the car?" Steve asked, "There was something else, wasn't there?"

Larry let go a shaky breath as he comforted his wife, "A navy duffle-type diaper bag. There were diapers, clothes, it was stocked. We were surprised that it was part of the deal, but very grateful. We hadn't prepared much here other than the crib and monitor. And there was a cooler and the note."

"Red cooler?" Danny guessed.

"Yes, it was filled with what we guessed was formula," Larry went on, "The note said to freeze it immediately, that it would last for months if needed. There were even directions on how to defrost it properly…"

"Do you still have the note?" Steve asked.

Janet pulled a folded slip of paper from the right pocket of her dress. "It looks like a woman's writing. I couldn't stop wondering if it was from his mother. I… I'm so sorry."

Steve took the note, noticing it was written on a lined sheet of paper that looked to be torn out of a small spiral bound notebook. He barely had to glance at the writing to know who the penmanship belonged to. "Catherine," he whispered. The note was short, instructional and impersonal. Steve flipped the note over and found Five-0 headquarters phone number written in her handwriting. He eyed the couple again, "Is there anything else you want to say before we arrest you?"

The woman nodded, setting down the baby monitor. She reached for her cell phone on the coffee table, stood and handed it to Steve. "I lied to you earlier about not having pictures. There are maybe a dozen or so photos on my phone. Please, take it," she offered, "If it'll help find him."

"Also, there was a gathering before the auction on the boat," Larry added, "Monday night we got a call. They said to meet up at the Kahuku Golf Course parking lot. From there they took us, blindfolded us the rest of the way. Not sure where, but it had to be on the island somewhere. It took maybe ten to fifteen minutes to get there, but I know we weren't on a boat. Transport was a vehicle of some sort, van maybe."

"When you got there, you saw something?" Steve questioned, "It had to have been a house or factory building…"

"Not sure," Larry shrugged. "It was dark inside, all the windows blacked out. It didn't feel like a very large space. They had pictures of the babies that were being auctioned off, storyboards about them. Some had names and tales of mother's dying in childbirth, or of being abandoned at public places, left for dead. That's where we had to sign a contract of intent to buy. They held us at gunpoint until we swore we would never say a word about how we got the baby or what was going on. Then they re-blindfolded us, took us back to our car. That was it until Friday night's event."

"You agreed to all of that just to buy a baby?" Danny was shocked. "And I thought regular Black Friday sales were ridiculous," he groaned.

Larry remained undeterred by the derisive comment, "Sometimes you do whatever necessary to create family."

Unsympathetic with that answer, Steve eyed his partner, "Book 'em Danno," he instructed.

000

Grover, Chin and Kono were all at HQ when Steve and Danny returned. "Well, if it isn't the Lone frickin' Ranger," the captain remarked.

"Not now," Steve pushed past the blockade on his way to the surface computer. He immediately pulled up a map of the island and zoomed in to the Kahuku area up north. They'd dropped the Russell's off at HPD, instructing Duke to have an officer question them each individually about auction night. "Chin, what have you found?" he asked while attempting to triangulate a ten or fifteen minute drive from the point where Larry Russell claimed they'd been transported on Monday night.

Chin shook his head, "Unfortunately, the Kappa-Shui gui seems to be living up to its namesake as a ghost ship. We've got nothing on Catherine or the boat, no sightings. All video surveillance we've pulled on the island was been pretty tame. Although, we did spot a shoplifter at a gift shop in Waimea Bay," he shrugged, feeling bad for his lack of information.

"Kono, can you transfer the pictures from this phone so we can get a better look at them?" Danny handed over Janet Russell's cell to her.

"No problem," she agreed.

"So when would be a good time for you?" Grover asked; making sure Steve knew he was still there, "Because the governor specifically asked me to be here right now. And your band of means and immunity merry men or lost boys, or whatever you want to call yourselves, just finished explaining to me about Catherine Rollins being alive," he revealed. "And that your team, upon your orders, let a boat full of babies get away because you were focused on saving her life. You put her ahead of a case, again."

"She is our case right now," Steve snarled. They'd managed to work together a few times without too much incident, but Steve was in no mood to argue with the man right now. "She's been held for nearly ten months against her will by a man who hates my family enough to want to destroy us all. That boat was crawling with guards last night, all of them armed. I had to act quickly or possibly lose my entire team and risk those babies' lives," Steve hated having to defend his actions, "And if it was your wife or your children," he looked Grover in the eye, "You would let their safety come second in favor of saving strangers?" Steve challenged. "Don't you dare lie."

The SWAT captain took a breath, calming his emotions. He remembered seeing Catherine at the hospital when Steve had been shot in the shoulder, seeing how the mighty Steve McGarrett had been more worried about her in the wake of being shot. And he recalled attending her funeral, the way Steve had struck out at a friend and taken off that afternoon. Grover understood that a lack of wedding band on either of their fingers was insignificant. He didn't come out and admit Steve was right, but his slightly resigned posture gave him away. "The point I'm trying to make is, if you needed backup you should've called me."

"SWAT doesn't exactly send out search parties," Steve sighed, hoping not to argue with the man any further.

"The heck with procedure," Grover's tone wasn't angry, more exasperated than anything, "You need manpower and I have it. So stop being so proud and ask for help once in a while. You might find you have more friends than you realize."

"Who, you?" Steve scoffed.

"Now you're just talking crazy," Grover replied with a look that was not a smile, but not in any way disgusted, "Where do you need help? You have the Coast Guard out looking for this boat? Or your Navy buddies? How about the surrounding woods where the baby was left? Rollins could still be hiding out there," the captain watched as Steve looked away, "You see what I'm saying," he felt his point had been made, "Your brain isn't functioning quite right. You've been overlooking obvious stuff, you and your team. All of you are too close to this. How long have you been awake?" he asked.

"A few…" Steve could see the man scrutinizing him, "Days."

"Then what you need to do is go get some rest and come back in the morning refreshed," Grover concluded.

Steve stood up as straight as possible, not wanting to give away just how exhausted he really was, "Tomorrow morning? It's only four-thirty, barely dark out. Catherine could be… I have no idea where she is now, but she might be even further away by morning. I can't stop looking."

"According to your friends here, you've been looking for some clue about Rollins' location for close to ten months," the captain stated.

"And I'm not giving up right now," Steve maintained as he looked back to the computer and eyed Kono.

She had the pictures displayed, "Looks like two sets of photos," she pointed out. Six different pictures tiled the main screen, all of a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. "This baby's blanket and outfit look a lot like the ones we found on Evan… the boy that we brought in," she knew Steve was still leery of the boy's true identity or name. "But it doesn't look like him. Like Chin, I've never studied the difference between babies much, but this is pretty obvious when you see…" she changed the screen to reveal a different set of six photos.

"That's definitely the baby we found," Danny pointed to the new pictures. They revealed a baby in the portable crib they'd seen at the Russell house.

"So Catherine somehow switched these two babies on the boat?" Chin asked.

"She did know about the tracker Steve put on her," Kono picked up, "She tossed it in the water, and ditched the white sedan. Then somehow got herself further north up the coastline, maybe stole another car," she guessed.

Danny nodded as he tried to run down the rest of the scenario. "Catherine must have had some advance notice of the baby auction and set everything up. She knew these people's address. So she kidnapped her own baby back, the one she switched with the baby girl they were planning to bid on. Managed to walk right through the front door of the Russell home, shut the baby monitor off without being heard, packed up all his things in the kitchen which was rather exposed to the rest of the house, then stole their rental car and drove all the way over to the other side of the island to abandon him," he instantly felt bad for his use of the word abandon when he noticed the way Steve sucked in a breath.

"And she somehow had another tracker to clone the frequency, the one she left for us to find the baby," Kono pointed out, "Where'd she get that from?"

"Must have stopped somewhere to pick it up," Chin figured.

Grover's brows bunched as he listened to the saga, "So she just stopped off at some tech store? And no one has seen her do any of this? She's been all around this island, managed to elude traffic cameras, house alarms, baby monitors and eye witnesses," he wasn't sure whether to be impressed or alarmed, "Who trained this woman, Ninja Academy?"

"United States Navy," Steve replied with complete seriousness, once again feeling proud of Catherine's abilities, but utterly confused by her motives. "Why go to all the trouble? The plan to leave the baby with the Russell's was obviously conceived before she realized we were on the boat last night. She left Five-o's number for them, so she must've hoped they would have a heart between them and do the right thing by calling us. But once she was free, once she was here sitting in my office, why not just tell me? Or why not take the baby to our place, if he really is our kid?"

"Maybe because you're never home," Danny quipped.

"Or maybe because it was too obvious a choice," Chin countered. He turned to Kono and the two shared a worried glance. "If she thought there was any chance of Wo Fat being on to her, searching for her and the baby, then wouldn't leaving him with you or at your house be the first place Wo Fat might think to look?"

"Uh, boss," Kono crossed her arms nervously. "You might want to go home."

"Why?" Steve asked.

"We sorta left Evan there with… a babysitter," Chin was purposefully cryptic.

"For once I'm actually going to side with your team being right," Grover said, "It's time for you to take a little break. I'm on this, and so is all of HPD. The governor has issued a state-wide alert on Wo Fat, we've got him on the TSA's no-fly list, and we're going to get the Coast Guard on board now," he assured the commander, "You need to trust that we've all got your back on this, McGarrett. Now be a good boy and go home. I promise to call you the second we have something. We won't let you miss the fireworks."

Even though Steve wanted more answers, he couldn't deny being concerned about the baby at his place.

000

Steve arrived home shortly, not sure what he was about to find.

He'd somewhat been expecting to see Kamekona standing on the front lawn, baby boy lost somewhere in the folds of his bulky arms with the McGarrett homestead behind them riddled with bullets. Or his very worst case scenario, dead babysitter and missing baby. Instead, the outside of the house seemed quiet, undisturbed. That didn't stop Steve from pulling his gun and leading with it as he approached the front door with caution. His left hand reached for the doorknob and he was just about to turn it when the door opened. Both Steve's hands gripped his weapon, aiming it in the face of the woman that greeted him with a look that was half scowl and half smile.

"Why am I not even surprised anymore when you show up?" Steve sighed, slowly lowering his weapon and sheathing it at his side.

"Chin Ho called me, said he needed a favor," Doris replied breezily, "And you're just in time for his next feeding," her eyes aimed downward at the baby in her arms. The brown-eyed boy was a bit fussy even as he had his perfectly pink lips wrapped about a bottle's nipple. "I don't think he's used to feeding from a bottle, but good golly can this kid eat," she stepped away from the door. Her free hand waved at Steve's face as he entered the house, "That's an interesting bearded look. I don't like it, makes you look a little crazed."

"Why would Chin… how would he even know how to find you," Steve shook his head, ignoring her facial hair comment, still trying to work through a few things in his head as he closed the door. It didn't take him very long to conclude, "You're Chin's CIA contact," it wasn't a question; "You fed us that information about Wo Fat's transfer to Shanghai, and the invitation to the baby auction. Why?" Steve was even more frustrated than before. "And what are you doing here with that baby, mom?"

"That baby?" Doris echoed. "You mean this adorable mini-Steven? That the baby you're referring to, your son?"

"You don't know that," he glanced around the room, realizing how much he missed hearing the jingle-jangle of Trooper's identity tags when she came to welcome him home at night. But she was still with Billy, and he was stuck with his mother and a child everyone seemed to believe was his.

"Yes, I do. And so do you," Doris held the little guy out a little for Steve to get a better look at him.

He averted his eyes, looking over her shoulder, "Max has been by with the DNA results?"

"No," she drew the baby in closer, sensing her son's reluctance, "But I don't need DNA results to identify my grandchild. Look at him, Steve. He's got your chin, your nose and Catherine's eyes. It doesn't get any clearer than that." She could see his apprehension faltering just a little as he peeked at the baby, the same way he had faltered when he'd first seen her again after twenty years. He'd always been such a curious, inquisitive little boy and Doris could see those traits remained strong in him. "Do you want to hold him?"

"No," he shook his head, moving over to check that his files were all still in order, "I don't even want to be home right now but Chin was worried about the baby's safety, and Grover somehow got his hooks in this case and now he's demanding that the team get some rest."

"And you don't want to rest," Doris easily guessed.

"How can I rest? Catherine is either hiding out on the island somewhere or she's on a boat with Wo Fat, half way back to China by now or…"

"He sure can eat," Doris remarked again, seeming to ignore Steve's comments about Catherine, "This is his second feeding in about two and a half hours. I've heard breast fed babies don't go as long between feedings. But at this rate we'll run out of breast milk by sometime tomorrow morning."

Steve glanced down at the baby again, noticing the bottle was already half empty. "How can you be sure its breast milk?" he asked, recalling the note he'd read in Catherine's handwriting. None of it seemed to be real to him, like he was struggling through some bizarre dream.

"Tastes different than formula," she shrugged.

"You tasted it?" his nose scrunched, "Why would you do that? That could be some random stranger's breast milk, or Catherine's," Steve wasn't sure which scenario he found creepier.

Doris shrugged again, "I had to test it, make sure it wasn't off, or poisonous."

"Oh," he was actually surprised he hadn't thought of that.

"You're hilarious," Doris chuckled, "You drink milk that comes out of cows you've never met but you find it odd for me to taste Catherine's breast milk?"

"You don't even know its Catherine's… and can we just stop talking about breast milk entirely," Steve practically begged.

"I'm sure you probably blame your inability to be demonstrative on the fact that I never breastfed you as a baby," Doris didn't drop the subject, "I didn't with Mary either, I couldn't. My milk just never came in. Apparently it's not that uncommon, but I was rather upset at first, felt a bit like a failure as a mother. But then your father made me see that it wasn't such a big deal. He told me all I needed to do was hold you close like this," she glanced down at the baby snuggled against her chest, "And that we'd bond just fine."

"Dad said that?" Steve was always curious about his father.

"He was right," she replied. "John was always right. He could always make me feel better with just a few words, and sometimes with no words at all."

Steve tried even harder not to think about the baby being his, because it made him miss his father more. To think the man would never get to know his grandchildren was hard enough, but to know his child would never get to know how wonderful of a man his grandfather had been – that tore Steve up inside. "I am… affectionate," Steve defended, "With Catherine I am, with Mary and my friends… most of the time," he waved a little, "Okay, I try."

"I know you do," Doris acknowledged.

"What is this?" he attempted to shift the conversation again, "Chin just calls you up and you fly half way around the world from, wherever you've been, to come babysit?" Steve was still confused by her presence, and when he took a moment to think it over he realized something wasn't right, "Except there hasn't been enough time for you to fly in from…"

"I've been staying at a small rental house in Waikiki," she explained, "Ever since Catherine's funeral, or… you know, I guess not really a funeral after all."

His eyes widened, "So you've been here all this time? Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you tell Mary? She was here visiting last week."

"I know, but you told me I should stay away," Doris countered.

"No, I told you if you couldn't stay put then you should stay away. But you've been here and didn't…" he groaned. "You are the most exasperating woman I know."

She grinned, "John used to tell me that all the time as well."

He sunk down onto the leather sofa and ran both hands through his hair, trying to get some kind of grasp on reality. "Danny seems to think that baby is about three months old."

Doris nodded, "I'd have to agree with him. Evan is somewhere in the early infant stage, newborn/infant cusp maybe," she could see the confusion on his face, "The three month mark is when a newborn becomes an infant," she clarified, "Lots of changes going on at that time - means he's getting stronger every day, his head and neck not so wobbly, starting to smile for reasons other than being gassy."

"So that means Catherine got pregnant when, around this time last year?" he realized, even though that reality was still not sinking in for him, "And that means she would've been at least two months along before she left for Russia. Why wouldn't she tell me?" he was shaken by another thought, "Maybe she didn't want to tell me because she wasn't planning on keeping the baby. She told me she didn't want kids. She wasn't ever sick or…"

It was easy to see him falling apart a little, which worried Doris.

"Not being sick doesn't mean she wasn't pregnant," his mother offered up. "Everybody is pregnant in their own way. I was so sick when I carried you, for nearly the first six months, and not just in the morning," Doris recalled. "You were ten days late, thirty-two hours of hard labor, 9lbs 3oz.; all length, though, not bulky. Mary was completely different. Not sure if it was because she was a girl or because it was a second pregnancy but... I was never sick with Mary, delivered her exactly three hours after I felt the first twinge of labor and she was a measly 6lb. 6 oz., short and a lightweight compared to you."

"So you're saying I've always been a difficult child?" Steve replied.

"No," Doris smiled at the serious look in his eyes, that same seriousness she remembered from the day he was born, "Actually, you were a very sweet, calm and quiet baby. Barely ever cried, slept through for six full hours at three months old. Your sister Mary was the crier, didn't sleep six hours in a row until she was about a year old," Doris recalled. "What I'm saying is its possible Catherine didn't even know she was pregnant. Maybe didn't recognize the symptoms she was having. I doubt very much she was keeping it from you."

"She was tired," Steve finally recalled, "Even before she left, but really tired when I talked to her in Russia that night. I figured it was retirement, finally catching up on sleep after years' worth of service. And in Russia she thought it was still jetlag, but… she was homesick, too, which is not like Catherine at all," he sighed. "And around Christmas I found her eating this strange comfort food sandwich, I thought it was just PMS, I think she did too, but maybe…" he took a deep breath knowing there was no way he could rest.

Steve looked up and spotted the navy diaper bag Chin had carried into HQ earlier, same one the Russell's had mentioned. It was sitting open on the dining table. He stood and made his way over to it. Something spurned him to start removing all the contents. A few clean glass bottles, clothing, a ton of diapers, ointment, some items he couldn't identify including one with a large suction cup looking thing attached to a bottle-type vessel. When the bag was empty he hadn't found anything other than baby products.

"There has to be something, some other clue," he whispered. Steve regarded his mother who was silently watching him and gently rocking the baby, "Catherine's left notes and clues everywhere so far, there's got to be something else here," he insisted. "I just wish I knew what, or why she's leading me around like this."

He focused his energy on the bag again, running a hand along all of the seams inside until he felt something odd – an unusual pucker of fabric. A moment later he pulled a small folding knife from his cargo pocket and began to cut away at the bag's seams. The inside lining gave way easily as his blade made the cuts, and at the bottom of the bag he found another small slip of folded paper. Similar to the notebook paper her feeding instructions had been written on.

Steve unfolded it, hoping for something solid this time; some message from her that would explain everything.

Instead he found another string of nonsensical letters.

"It must be another code," he realized. "Why is everything in code? Why does it feel like she's deliberately trying to stall me?" Steve asked, though he wasn't expecting any sort of answer from his mother, "I need to go see Billy again, and…" he faced Doris, "Are you going to be okay here if I go?"

"The two of us are getting on just fine," Doris insisted, "Go. Do what you need to do."

"Mom," Steve didn't know why she kept popping up and causing him to have an ulcer, but at the moment he was mostly grateful for her presence, "You do realize that Wo Fat could be on this island right now, possibly even hunting that baby down?" this time he actually managed to point to the little boy, who was nearly done with his bottle. "If he finds the two of you here, I…"

She shrugged, "I have a weapon on me. Well, with me here. Granny's packing heat."

"Oh, great, that's very reassuring," Steve sighed in resignation, "I'm going to arrange for a couple officers to watch the house, okay? No arguments, and no trying to talk them into leaving," he already had his finger pressed against the HPD speed-dial title on his cell phone as he edged toward the door, "Just try to stay indoors and keep the alarm system set," Steve ran down the safety list as if she was a child and not a trained spy. "If you need me or anything else…"

"I'll call you or someone on your team. You can stop worrying, Steve," Doris insisted.

000

"Stop worrying, she tells me. What a stupid thing to say," Steve sighed as he and Danny cleaned up some of the glass in his office that HPD had missed.

"You're not upset at Chin for calling her, are you?" the detective probed. "I know he's been worried about your reaction."

Steve shrugged, "I don't know. I'm so sick of being frustrated and confused," he shook his head while repositioning the floor lamp Catherine had moved during her breakout. "I know Doris has some sort of magic way of getting people I care about to lie for her, first there was Catherine and now Chin," Steve was more than a little conflicted by his mother's sudden reappearance. Even more so by the fact that she'd been on the island again without him knowing, "Don't be surprised if Evan's first words are a lie his granny Doris teaches him."

"Granny Doris?" Danny found that term amusing, but he was more intrigued by the way Steve referred to her as Evan's grandmother.

"At least Doris is consistent and keeps recycling behavior," Steve sighed. "Maybe I can use that to predict her next move."

Danny decided to refrain from further comment on that matter, or anything else to do with Steve's mother.

They both spotted Billy entering the office and went out to meet him.

Trooper came jogging over to greet Steve and he crouched down to welcome the dog.

"We probably could've just called Billy, right?" Danny guessed. "But you missed your dog, didn't you?"

Steve didn't respond, but he actually smiled when Trooper gave him a big slurp-lick against his bearded cheek. He stood and the dog walked with him over to the computer table. Kono came to join them and Chin exited his office, looking cautious around Steve. Thankfully, Billy's presence squashed some of the tension in the room. He set up his small laptop and inserted the new code letters into the cipher program. He had a decryption in a matter of just a few minutes. The laptop displayed eleven letters as one jumble:

WOFATLAWSON

"Well, the Wo Fat part seems pretty obvious," Kono noted, "Cath must have left this note before she knew we were on the boat and aware of his involvement."

"I think that's safe to say," Danny agreed.

"Lawson could be a name of someone involved, maybe Catherine is trying to tell us that Wo Fat and this Lawson person are partners," Billy suggested.

"Maybe the older guy from the recording," Chin ventured.

"Or the woman," Steve added.

"Wait a second here… Lawson?" Danny latched on to that name, "We don't think this could have anything to do with Melanie Lawson, do we?"

"Wasn't that the name of the woman who killed Marty?" Billy tried to remember, "She worked with him and Cathleen."

"And killed them both," Chin noted, "Also responsible for all that stuff with the dove branding. Now maybe she was actually working for, or with, Wo Fat?"

"After everything that's happened the last forty-eight hours I'm not ready to rule out any possibility," Steve was starting to rethink a lot of things that he previously never would've added up. "We know Melanie Lawson wasn't meant to die. Maybe by killing her, Keith Meyer messed up Wo Fat's plans for Lawson, and Wo Fat made sure Meyer paid for that."

"So now you're thinking Myer's death was made to look like a heart attack, but maybe wasn't?" Chin questioned.

"Could be," Steve rolled with the idea, "I never thought much of his heart attack other than it was probably brought on by the stress of the case, but it was pretty convenient that Meyer died before he could go to trial. And there was no autopsy to prove the heart attack wrong. If Meyer had any inkling that Wo Fat was involved…"

"Wo Fat killed him before he could talk," Danny sucked in a breath, thinking it all over, "Okay, let's say that is the case, I still don't get why Catherine would bother to clue us in on the fact that Wo Fat was working with Lawson," he paused, "Melanie Lawson is dead, right?" Danny glanced around the table, mainly at Steve and Chin. "The three of us were there in her office that day, we can at least all agree on that one?"

"She certainly felt dead," Steve responded.

"Please don't tell me we think she's alive now, too?" Chin groaned.

Steve's head shook, "I seriously doubt it. Max pronounced her dead at the scene."

"Then what's the connection?" Danny was still at a loss.

Steve tossed the possibilities around in his head some more, kicking himself for not confronting his mother about the file she'd stolen. He couldn't help thinking now that the dove branding might've had something to do with Wo Fat, "Lawson… why does that name sound really familiar to me?"

"Pretty sure we went over that a minute ago," Danny was a little concerned about his friend's memory. "Melanie Lawson, dead lady, murderer," he summarized, "Not in that order."

"No, not her," a silent alarm bell went off in Steve's head. "Please let me be wrong about this," he looked to Chin, "Can you look up the name Nick Lawson for me?"

Chin did as he was asked and pulled up a couple files for U.S. citizens named Nick Lawson. He displayed pictures for more than a dozen of them.

"Not these," Steve waved his hand at a few men in their twenties and thirties, "He's older, gray hair and maybe… I don't know, maybe he's related to Melanie Lawson somehow? An uncle or… or it could just be a common last name."

After a few more minutes Chin displayed a single image of a man in his early forties, "Melanie Lawson's father is a man named Nickolas Lawson. This is the most current picture of him on a U.S. license, but it's nearly twenty years old. He'd be in his early sixties by now."

"That's a Hawaiian driver's license," Steve noticed, "Chin, check to see if he was ever in the Navy."

Within another minute Chin had the confirmation displayed on screen, a photo of Lawson in the service, "How did you know he was former Navy?"

"Damn it," Steve slammed his palms against the edge of the computer table. "How could he do that to her?" his furry was growing by the second and he could see the rest of those gathered staring at him with confusion. "Nick Lawson, Master-at-Arms, U.S. Navy. That's got to be why Catherine called him master on that recoding we heard the other day. Maybe she wasn't being subservient to him at all. What if she was addressing him by rank, in a manner of speaking?" Steve sighed, "How could he betray the very Navy uniform he once wore?"

"Am I the only one still wondering who Nick Lawson is?" Danny finally asked outright, "Other than being Melanie Lawson's father and former Navy?"

"He was a friend of Catherine's father when she was a girl," Steve recalled. "When she told me about her baby brother dying, Catherine said this man," he pointed a finger at the image on the main screen, "This friend of her father's held her and told her about how her brother had died, he comforted her as she cried over Ben's death, and now…" he still didn't want to believe it could be true. Yet it was the only thing that made any sense.

"But how does he know me?" Steve sighed, his thoughts running over one another again, "Catherine obviously knows this man from her past, but how does my family factor in to Lawson's vendetta? If this is the bastard that's been sending those notes to me, why? How does he know the McGarrett family and what makes him hate us so much?"

"I might already have an answer for you on that," Chin had been searching while his friend spoke, hoping to make up for his mistake in calling upon Doris's help, "I just found a newspaper article from twenty-one years ago, fall of 1993. It's about a fatal car accident along state route 72. John McGarrett is mentioned in it, so is Nickolas Lawson. I have vague memories of this; I was at the academy back then but I remember my uncle talking about it. The name Lawson never rang any bells for me, though, since it was such a long time ago. Maybe your dad mentioned it to you," Chin suggested.

"No, I would've been what, seventeen, back then?" Steve swallowed, "We weren't in touch much at that point. I was still upset about him sending me away to California. It wasn't until I graduated and decided to go Navy before the two of us finally started talking again."

Steve read the article:

"On Thursday, October 7th, HPD officer John McGarrett was cleared of any wrong doing in the May 21st accident that killed fifteen year old, Matthew Lawson and his mother, forty year old, Hannah Lawson. Father and husband of the deceased, Nickolas Lawson, filed a civil suit against John McGarrett a month after the accident. In the course of the investigation it was revealed that, in March, young Matthew Lawson had been questioned by HPD in connection with some drug deals involving high school students on the island. The minor was let go at that time without charges filed. On the morning of May 21st the young man was driving his mother's minivan with a valid driver's permit when he stopped for gas.

"His mother reportedly waited in the vehicle while Matthew Lawson went into the gas station to pay. The gas station owner, Richard Laukala, reported that the boy paid for his gas but was then seen through a security mirror at the back of the store with two other teenagers. Laukala claimed the boys were arguing, and some small package of what appeared to be drugs was exchanged. Matthew Lawson then fled while Laukala called police, having noted the license plate number of the Lawson's minivan. A high speed chase ensued as Lawson made an attempt to flee police. Officer McGarrett was driving the lead car in pursuit when Lawson's minivan lost control on state route 72 near Koko Head Park.

"The minivan jumped the guardrail, rolled down a section of jagged rocky shoreline and crashed into the ocean, killing both Lawson and his mother instantly. Lawson's father, Nickolas, later accused office McGarrett of reckless pursuit which he believed contributed to his son's and wife's death. But before the case could even make it to trial, a toxicology report revealed that Matthew Lawson had been high at the time of the accident. Judge Clewell dismissed the case against John McGarrett at that time. Nickolas Lawson and his eighteen-year-old daughter, Melanie, a freshman in UH's Architecture program, appeared to be inconsolable after they learned of the ruling. They left the courthouse without speaking to reporters."

"So his son was dealing drugs," Danny was the first to speak, "And he was high. Yet this Nick Lawson goes and tries to blame the accident on your father," his head shook. "How does someone's mind work like that?"

"He didn't want to believe his son could be at fault, so he twisted events and tried to make my dad into the bad guy. And he clearly hasn't been able to let it go after twenty-one years," Steve guessed. "It's grown into a monster that Lawson probably couldn't control if he wanted to. Do we know anything about what happened to Nick Lawson after the judge's decision?"

Kono had pulled up some more history while they'd read the article, "Looks like the Lawson family moved here in 1990 when Nick was stationed at Pearl Harbor. He retired in 1992 and took a security guard job. He was fired from that job about two months after the accident. After that I can't find any job records for him, driver's license was never renewed, no flights taken, no passport renewal, kind of like he disappeared. Melanie Lawson was living in the family home at the time of her death last year. Home's mortgage was paid off in February of 1994, and apparently is still legally owned by Nick Lawson."

"We need to check that house," Steve eyed Danny as he spoke.

"I'd like to go with you," Billy requested, having been rather quiet up to that point. He looked Steve in the eye. "I know you're trying to protect me by keeping me doing mundane things like figuring out Catherine's codes, but I owe it to Marty and Cathleen to…" he paused a moment, "I owe it to Catherine. I want to be there for her now."

Danny could see his partner struggling with an answer, so he made the decision. "Yeah, absolutely," he agreed. "We can use all the help we can get, right?" Danny asked Steve.

Steve finally nodded. "Sure."

000

"I didn't think anyone was living here," Billy said as Steve pulled the Camaro to a stop across the street from the Lawson home.

The house was pale blue and not fancy in the least. There was a large carport at the front of the house with main living space over the carport and on the ground floor to the right of the carport. A red basketball hoop with white backboard was attached to the wall above the carport and three teenaged boys were currently shooting hoops there. Steve led the way across the street and approached one of the boys, a tall, skinny blonde haired kid with a path of freckles across his nose, "How you doing?" Steve greeted.

Turning around, the boy shrugged, "Good, you?" he held a red-orange basketball under his left arm, the other two boys standing behind him. "You lost, man?"

"No," Steve lifted the corner of his blue t-shirt to reveal the gold badge there. He was glad that none of the boys scattered at the sight of it, "Steve McGarrett from Five-0," he announced himself properly, "We didn't think anyone was living here?"

The blonde boy shook his head. "No one does. I'm Dalton, and these are my buddies Wayne and Luke," he introduced, each boy lifting a hand at the mention of their name, "We live on the street and know the place is empty, just come over here to use the hoop sometimes. Didn't think that was a crime."

"Technically… trespassing," Danny said, though he was impressed by the fact that the boy didn't give them attitude. "You know the family who lived here?"

"I knew Ms. Lawson," the kid replied. "She hired me a couple years ago starting when I was thirteen, sometimes to do yard work or collect her newspapers if she was out of town for a few days. She worked a lot and wasn't home much. A few times she'd pay me just to make sure the house was locked up, nothing going on."

"You ever see a man living here with her?" Billy asked, "Older man who could've been her father," he suggested.

Dalton shook his head, "My dad got stationed at Pearl-Hickman five years ago. This is the longest we've been anywhere. Only ever seen Ms. Lawson here in that time."

"Ms. Lawson ever give you a key to the place?" Danny wondered, since they hadn't been able to find anyone with access to the house.

"Nope, but…" Dalton stepped in closer toward Steve, "She always kept one under the planter pot by the door," the boy whispered, "It's still there."

"Thanks for talking to us, Dalton," Steve smiled for the boy, "I need you three to head home now. We're gonna have a look around this place," he let the kids know.

The three of them headed off without any trouble, Dalton dribbling the ball down the sidewalk with a rubbery phink-thunk sound echoing down the street. Teenaged chatter followed them down the road until they were out of sight. Steve found the key and easily entered the house, no visible alarm system present. The place smelled a bit musty and there was a decent amount of dust on the surface of everything, table, chairs and bookshelves.

"Danny, see what's upstairs," Steve instructed, "Billy and I will root around down here."

Harrington watched Steve's partner take to the stairs. He helped Steve search the main level, leafing through books and desk drawers. Even rummaging around in the kitchen cabinets, which were pretty empty. "How you holding up?" Billy finally asked as the two of them looked around the only bedroom on the lower level.

Steve shrugged, not having any better frame of mind to answer that question than he had early when Danny had inquired the same thing, "I feel like my heart and my head have been pulled in a dozen different directions the past two days, and seeing Catherine again briefly just makes me miss her more," he revealed.

"I can't even imagine what that must feel like," Billy sighed, peeking inside a small closet.

"Sure you can. If it was An you'd feel the same," Steve looked to his old friend, not sure what sort of response he was expecting.

"Maybe," Harrington's voice was unconvinced, "I love An, I really do," he replied, "But what we have is… it's been rushed, maybe even forced by me out of a desire to have something real before I…" he trailed off for a moment, "I'm pretty sure we're not at any level like you and Catherine. To be honest, most days I feel like I barely know An," Billy confessed.

That answer didn't do much to settle Steve's earlier warning feelings about the dark-haired woman. But he was nowhere near having any evidence to support his fears.

"Guys, I might have something up here!" they heard Danny shout down the stairs to them.

Billy and Steve immediately ditched their uneventful search and took to the stairs, "Thank you for letting me do this," Harrington spoke up again.

"Don't thank me," Steve reached the upper landing first and paused to look Billy in the eye, "You said you wanted to help. Danny and Grover are right, we'll need all the help we can get if we're going to get Catherine back," he concluded.

"In here," Danny beckoned them.

The three men huddled in a large front bedroom that was set up as an office. A glance out the windows told Steve they were above the carport. Big wood desk sat in the middle of the room, with a large desktop computer tower and two twenty-four inch monitors aimed away from the window's potential glare. Danny had the computer turned on and was going through the files on the hard drive, "So far all I've found are drawings of houses and other buildings, must be Melanie Lawson's stuff," Danny guessed. "There're file cabinets on both sides of the room," he pointed.

Steve walked to the far end of the bedroom and started there.

Harrington stuck closer to the desk.

"Hey, you're better at this computer stuff, right?" Danny asked.

"I suppose," Billy shrugged.

Danny stood and waved a hand at the desk chair, "Be my guest," he offered. "I'm better with paper," he smiled, moving to the nearest file cabinet. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Billy sat down and began to quickly type in search words. He seemed to be whizzing through the hard drive files in a matter of seconds, "You know all that code stuff you do?" Danny said as he sifted through a drawer full of files that contained hard copy drawings, "That's not mundane at all. I can't do that stuff."

"I'm sure Steve told you about what's been going on," Billy replied, "My condition."

"Yeah, he did," Danny admitted. "Not sure what to…"

Harrington shrugged, "Actually kind of nice to tell people, get it out."

The detective nodded, feeling a bit bad all of a sudden, "I know maybe I wasn't as friendly as I could've been before," Danny said, "But you working with my best friend's girlfriend and all, I guess I kind of jumped to some conclusions about you that I probably shouldn't have. You've helped us a lot recently and I know it's because you really care about Catherine."

"Don't sweat it," Billy offered as he gave up on the computer. "There's nothing out of the ordinary here," he stood and glanced around. "And the file cabinets feel too obvious a place to leave anything," he remarked, "What about that?" he pointed to the ceiling.

Looking up, Danny spotted what Billy had. "Hey, Steve," he called his partner back over and pointed up. "Looks like one of those pull down attic ladders."

The ceiling wasn't very high and Steve was tall enough to grab the handle and pull the wooden ladder down. He glanced up into the space then turned a half-smile on Danny, "From what I can see, seems to be pretty low clearance up there," Steve said. He and Billy shared a brief look and then both returned their eyes to Danny.

"Oh, sure, I get it," Danny understood the message without them having to say a word, "Send the short guy up into the attic? Wow, guys, that's real nice. I appreciate it. Not so sure I like working with two Super SEALS," he grumbled as he made his way up the ladder, "Is the height thing a Navy SEAL requirement or what?"

"Is he going to be mad about this for the rest of the day?" Billy actually cracked a small smile as he stood nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with Steve.

"Yep," Steve nodded, "You can pretty much bet on it," it felt nice to relax a little with his friends, even though they were working on the most serious case of their lives, at least as far as Steve was concerned. "Anything on the hard drive?" he finally asked.

Billy's head shook, "All of it was work related, drawings and client notes," he sighed. Going through Lawson's things had reminded him of his friend Marty, and made him miss the man all the more. "The things she designed were almost all modern, glass and steel, doesn't it seem odd she'd still live in a place like this? I realize it's a family home, but…" he caught a glint of red light out of the corner of his eye and looked to Steve.

Harrington's stomach leapt into his throat, a feeling of dread that had rolled across him a number of times in battle situations. That feeling in which instinct and action took over without too much forethought, "Steve," the name was barely a whisper on Billy's breath as he tackled the man beside him.

Steve turned upon hearing his name, but the next thing he knew he was falling toward the floor. The sound of broken glass echoed behind him.

He lay on the soft beige carpeted floor in a daze for a moment until he realized Harrington was lying partially on top of him. "Billy, what the…" Steve quickly realized the man wasn't moving. His heart beat faster and spurned him into action. He rolled Billy off him and immediately spotted the pool of blood already seeping into the carpet. "No, no, no…"

"What's going on down there?" Danny called from above.

"Just stay up there for now, Danny!" Steve shouted, keeping low, not wanting anyone near the windows as he tried to figure out what had just happened. He drew his weapon and inched toward the window on his belly. Steve pressed his back against the wall and then turned slightly to peek out the window. His eyes scanned the street. All the houses seemed still. There was a blue jeep with a surfboard loaded in the back, headed south. And a woman pushing a stroller north along the sidewalk. A dense swath of vegetation behind the neighborhood seemed undisturbed.

There was nothing out of the ordinary, no one on a roof top, no one running away on foot or speeding off in a vehicle.

"Danny, get down here, now!" Steve shouted, keeping watch at the window.

"What the heck," Danny appeared a few seconds later making his way down the ladder, "First you want me to stay, now you say…" he turned around and his eyes instantly caught sight of Billy. "Shit…" he rushed to the fallen man.

"Sniper," was the single word explanation Steve had to give. He was already on his phone to HPD, "Duke, we have an unknown assailant somewhere in the vicinity of Pearl City. Shots have been fired and we have a man down on Kaweloka Street, we need paramedics immediately," he rattled off the exact address. "We also need to get CSU here as soon as possible," Steve ended the call and made his way back to Harrington.

"Hey, Billy…" Steve could see his eyes were open.

Danny had Harrington on his side, "He's somewhat alert, probably in shock. Bullet went through his back, can't find an exit wound," Danny reported.

It was easy for Steve to determine the wound was in the upper left chest area - heart, "What were you thinking, Harrington?" he held Billy's hand as Danny rushed out of the room.

Billy tried to smile, but grimaced instead while attempting to draw in a breath, "Thought it would be better this way. Better to go out saving your sorry butt, commander. Than to…" he gasped for air, "I'm sorry…"

"You've got nothing to be sorry about," Steve assured him.

A second later Danny returned with a towel, "Here," he pressed it against Harrington's back, not bothering to care if it had been sitting on a shelf for a year. Danny was only worried about putting pressure on the wound to try stopping the blood flow. Even though he already knew the effort was mostly futile.

Steve continued to clutch his friend's hand, "You just hang on, okay? Paramedics are on the way."

"Did you see who?" Billy asked, trying to dwell on something else.

"No," Steve sighed.

Harrington looked him in the eye, "Don't lie. You saw something, someone… think about it, remember."

"I saw a…" Steve closed his eyes for a second, impressed by Billy's ability to focus on anything other than the bullet in his back, "Only person I saw was a woman with a baby stroller, the back of her head, dark hair…"

"Was it Catherine?" Billy whispered, "She wouldn't…"

Steve felt a chill roll over his shoulders and sail down his spine. He couldn't believe he might've overlooked the woman as a suspect because she was pushing a stroller. It seemed baby Evan, whether his son or not, was clouding his judgment. "No, I don't think it was…" he realized he wasn't sure what to think any more. But he knew for a fact that Billy had taken a bullet intended for him. And he couldn't imagine Catherine would be aiming for him, he just couldn't, "Not Catherine," Steve had to say it to believe it, to assure Billy of it.

Danny eyed Steve, "Then who?"

"Maybe," Steve shrugged, grasping for any possibility other than it being Catherine, "The other woman on the boat with Wo Fat and Catherine."

Billy's eyes closed and his breathing grew raspier, "She needs you, Steve. That's why I did this… Catherine needs you," he whispered, his voice weak, "You'll find her, bring her home. I know you'll find her… tell her I'm sorry and that I…"

"Billy, she already knows you… she wouldn't want you to…" Steve felt his friend's hand go slack, "I will," he promised.

After pressing two fingers against Harrington's neck, Danny shook his head. "I'm sorry, Steve, he's…"

"Dead," Steve already knew that as he gently let go of Billy's hand.

He jumped to his feet and fled the room. Steve rushed downstairs, burst out onto the street and turned in the direction he'd seen the woman walking. He was two blocks down the street when he spotted a trail between two houses. He followed the grassy path that led into a northern vegetation boundary along the neighborhood. Steve walked for several hundred feet until he came across the stroller he'd seen earlier. There was a blanket inside, and when he pulled it out a rifle with scope lay beneath it.

Steve glanced left and right as he tried to find a trace of the woman. He searched the area for nearly twenty minutes, but there was nothing to be found. No broken branches, no footprints. Finally he returned to the stroller and pushed it back to the house where HPD and the paramedics were gathered. Steve knew they wouldn't find any prints on the weapon if she'd so easily discarded it, but he hoped they might be able to trace the gun back to an owner or point of sale.

He found Danny pacing outside on the sidewalk.

"I waited with Billy until the paramedics showed," Danny said as Steve approached. There was really nothing more to say about that, and he knew well enough by now not to ask how his partner was doing. He focused on the case, "I found something in the attic before…" Danny held the book-shaped item in his left hand for Steve to see, "Some sort of journal," Danny guessed, "Leather bound with the initials N.L. embossed across the front. Seems like a good indication that it belonged to Nick Lawson."

"We'll have Kono and Chin look through it," Steve decided, "But first they should get some rest, and you should go home and rest if you can."

"Got a text from Grace on our drive here," Danny revealed, "She's already home at Rachael's. They left Vegas earlier than planned after their holiday."

"Then go and see Grace," Steve insisted, watching helplessly as the paramedics rolled Billy out on a stretcher, knowing he'd be transferred to Max at the coroner's facility. Knowing there was nothing more he could do for his friend. Knowing they all needed something to hang on to in the wake of death.

Danny nodded, worried about his partner's sudden desire to take another step back, "What're you going to do?"

"I just need you to drop me back at headquarters," he replied, "Someone I need to pick up."

000

Steve walked the dog into his house, closed the door and unclasped her leash.

Trooper was on full alert as she stopped just inside the door, her head raised, ears perked. She sniffed around at the air for a moment and then immediately trotted over to the small portable crib that was set up in the living room. Steve could see the baby was sleeping in the crib, and he noticed his mother was slumped against the sofa, her eyes closed. He watched as Trooper continued to sniff around the crib, clearly curious about the new smell in their home.

Doris sat up, yawning, "You're back."

"And you went shopping?" Steve wondered, motioning to the crib. "Didn't I tell you not to…"

"I never left the house," she cut him off.

"Then how?"

"Mick brought the crib over for me. I sent him shopping," Doris chuckled. "Wish I could've seen him roaming the baby aisles in the store, picking out a port-a-crib," she wore an amused smile, "Back when you were a baby we called them playpens, but nowadays I think they consider leaving your baby in a playpen to be boarder line child abuse. Now it's all about the holding and the tummy time and… who knows what else," she yawned again.

"It's probably a miracle you and Mary ever made it past the toddler stage with all those light sockets I left uncovered, and the lack of seatbelts," she joked. "Mick also bought extra diapers and even formula if you run out of breast milk before…" she stood and stretched, remembering his discomfort of discussing breast milk, "Anything new on locating Catherine?

Steve stood in the middle of his living room feeling rather out of place, the baby, the crib, his mother – it was all disorienting, "You ever heard of a man named Nickolas Lawson?"

Her head shook, "No, that name doesn't sound familiar," Doris replied. She sat forward, elbows on her knees as she listened intently while Steve explained everything to her, as much as he knew about the case that John had been involved in just shortly after her faked death. "I know what Catherine is going through," Doris ventured, diverting topics just a little, "I know what it feels like to be on your own for so long, feeling like there's no one to trust, lonely."

"Catherine has Wo Fat to keep her company," Steve replied dryly.

"Oh, would you please give it a rest," Doris groaned, keeping her words to a whisper so as not to startle the baby. "I know you don't believe that."

"What?" he folded his arms, still standing near the crib but not daring to look closely at the baby inside, "What don't I believe, Doris?"

"This…" she sighed, getting to her feet, "This sanctimonious, up on your high-horse routine you've got going on here. You're not fooling anyone. I get it, I do. You tried to grieve for her and you tried to move on but you couldn't and now that she's back you've switched into protect mode again. Protect your heart; don't let anyone get close again for fear of losing them. Well, how's that working for you, Steven? Feeling pretty good?"

"Mom, you don't understand," his head shook.

She didn't let up, "I know you love her and she loves you and you both do this stupid dance where you don't say it. I also know - this whole god-damned island knows - Catherine would never do anything to hurt you. Certainly not by her choice, and certainly not by being with Wo Fat in any way other than out of necessity."

"She said it," Steve spoke in a tone just above a whisper. "Last Christmas before she… Catherine told me she loved me and…"

"You couldn't say it back," Doris guessed.

"I kept telling myself I wanted it to be the right moment," Steve sighed with regret, not blaming Catherine for being upset with him, "That I'd say it when I proposed or," he shook his head again, but snapped out of his lament when he noticed Doris grabbing her purse and heading for the door. "Where are you going? You can't leave me with that..."

"You want to keep referring to him as that baby?" Doris walked back into the living room, bent down to pick up a folded sheet of paper off the coffee table and slapped the item against her son's chest. "Here, I suggest you read this," she instructed, "That doctor friend of yours, Max Bergman, dropped by earlier to deliver the news to you personally. Bit of an odd fellow. He wasn't even going to leave the results with me, but I managed to persuade him."

"I'm sure you did," Steve held the results in his right hand, staring at it like it might bite him.

"He ran the baby's DNA against yours, Wo Fat's and Catherine's," she wondered why he hadn't opened it yet.

His eyes leveled to hers, "And you obviously already know the results."

Doris groaned, "Well it sure as heck didn't indicate you and Wo Fat as mommy and daddy."

Steve huffed, "I'm really not in the mood right now for…"

"Congratulations, daddy," she tried to keep her tone light, honestly happy for him and Catherine despite the awful situation. Her hand pressed against his cheek for a moment, "I love you, Steve, I do hope you know that," Doris insisted, "But right now, I suggest you grow up and learn what it means to be a parent," with that Doris marched out the front door.

The door closed, partially waking Steve from his state of confusion-denial-regret. He opened the file and read it through.

A small noise came from the crib a second after he'd finished reading. It wasn't Trooper and it wasn't a cry, but Steve could tell the boy was awake.

He tossed the file back onto the table and walked over, looked down at the baby, not sure what to do with the infant.

"Evan McGarrett, huh?" he whispered the boy's name, trying it out for the first time. The baby kicked at his blanket and Steve frowned, seeing the pink cottony item was still wrapped around his son. He realized how odd it seemed to think of the boy as his son, and also how much joy it caused in his heart. "Mick couldn't buy you a new blanket?" he asked, "Maybe a blue or white one, green, even yellow."

The baby grew fussier by the second, tiny fists batting at the air, eyes opened wide, and legs kicking as his soft whimpers slowly grew into a louder cry of discomfort.

After removing the pink blanket, Steve carefully tucked his hands under the baby's armpits and scooped him up.

Steve held the boy at arm's length for a moment, starring into a set of dark eyes that were nearly identical to Catherine's. Evan let out a howl. "Hey, okay," Steve finally drew the baby toward him, cradling him with his left arm. "You're gonna need to help me out a little here, not sure if you're hungry or have a wet diaper," he noticed the boy looking up at him, not very fussy anymore. "Just want to be held, huh?"

Trooper remained steadfast at Steve's side. He wasn't sure if she was jealous of the baby or being protective, but liked to think it was a little of both, "Trooper, this is Evan," Steve bent down a little so the dog could get a better look at the baby, "Evan, meet Trooper," he continued the introductions, "Trooper is Catherine's dog… uh, your mom's dog," Steve corrected, still getting used to the two of them being parents. The whole situation certainly wasn't the way he ever could've imagined things.

Standing up straighter, Steve smiled guardedly at the boy, "Guess maybe I should introduce myself?" he wondered, more nervous than he'd ever been around a baby before. "I'm your… your dad," Steve felt the word get caught in his throat.

"It's kinda stuffy tonight," he said, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the fact that a lifetime of fatherhood was stretched out before him. That rank scared him more than anything he'd ever faced before, "That why you kicked off your blanket? Or because it's pink?" Steve asked the boy, smiling at his fat cheeks and curious brown eyes. "We could go for a walk," he suggested, "It'd have to be a short walk, just around the yard. I'm sure as heck not going to risk Wo…" he trailed off, not even wanting to talk about the man in his son's presence.

The three of them stepped outside into the front yard and Steve noticed how the boy's eyes widened a little. It was dark out but the baby almost appeared to be smiling as his gaze aimed upward toward the canopy of stars above them. "So you're a fresh air kind of guy? I guess you've grown up on a boat so far, makes sense, lots of fresh air out there. Your mom has spent a lot of time on boats, Navy aircraft carriers mostly," Steve sighed, "Gonna have to teach you how to swim, and surf, and..." all of those things made his heart ache, because he couldn't picture the activities without Catherine being there with them.

He turned around in the front yard to face the house, "This is where I grew up, where your aunt Mary grew up. You'll meet her soon, I hope. I was kind of mean to her recently. Don't tell your mom that when we see her again, she'll be mad at me," Steve warned. He found himself out in the garage a few minutes later, flipping on the light to see the old black Mercury sitting there. "This car belonged to your grandpa John. I'm sorry you'll never get to meet him. You already met your grandma Doris. I'm sorry about that, too."

Steve noticed the old toolbox sitting on the workbench, the worn off letters and the ones that remained to spell: Champ.

Evan was only content for a brief amount of guy talk and car ogling before he finally let out a wail that told Steve it was probably time for more food or a diaper change.

Somehow he managed the bottle feeding procedure better than he'd anticipated, even the burping, but Steve ran into a bit of trouble with diapering.

He had the boy laid out upstairs on the bed, and had just pulled off the top of the diaper when an impressive arc of pee streamed over Steve's left shoulder. "Whoa, easy there," Steve dodged the outpour and gently aimed the boy's tiny penis downward into the diaper, attempting to mitigate any damage. "You've got some serious fire power there, champ," he found himself calling the boy by a pet name his father had only used as a sort of code phrase. But it seemed fitting for some reason, "We definitely need to teach you some aim," he finally secured a dry diaper without further incident.

Trooper sniffed the puddle of pee that had formed on the hardwood floor beside the bed. Steve groaned, "No, girl, stay away from that," he left the baby in the center of the bed, "You keep watch over him," Steve commanded the Labrador, hoping the little guy didn't know how to roll over yet as he dashed into the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth.

Steve smiled when he returned, seeing how Trooper was holding position by the bed, her snout softly pressed against the mattress as she attentively watched the baby. He got down on his hands and knees and did his best to wipe up the wet pee spot. "That's about right, Catherine leaving me here alone with two kids," Steve looked up to check on the baby.

The boy was fussy again as he kicked at the air and beat tiny fists against the soft comforter.

"Not sure what else I can do for you, champ," Steve sighed, quickly tossing the cloth into the bathroom sink, washing his hands and then sitting down on the bed beside his son. He ran his palm across the small tuft of golden-brown hair atop Evan's head. "I know my voice isn't familiar to you, and my singing is even worse. Wish I had some sort of recording of Catherine's voice for you, but we've never really been the sort to take a bunch of pictures or videos."

He scooped up the baby again, an idea formulating in his head. "But I might have something…" Steve rooted around in Catherine's bedside drawer, "Got it."

A snapshot was pulled from the drawer - Steve and Catherine at the governor's charity ball a few years back. He remembered Kono had insisted on taking the picture of them. "How about that," Steve held the photo up in front of Evan's face, "I know her hair is a lot shorter in this picture, but she's still Catherine… still as gorgeous as ever, isn't she?" he starred at the black dress she'd been wearing that night, recalling the black dress she'd been wearing the night they'd met.

Evan's lower lip actually trembled as he seemed to really be focusing on the photo.

"Ah shoot, I didn't mean to make you miss her even more," Steve sighed regretfully, unsure how to comfort his own son. He kept hold of the baby while he walked around the room, trying out a jiggle-bounce move he'd seen Danny perform at headquarters. When that didn't work, Steve reached for the chain around his neck and pulled it free. He dangled the ring and ID tag above Evan's face, but the baby only grew fussier.

Steve's eyes finally fell upon something across the room he thought might actually help. He walked the baby over to Catherine's record player and pulled an album out. "Maybe…" with the baby still nestled in one arm he managed to put on one of her Chicago records. "Maybe your mom sings these songs to you?" he asked as a song began to play out.

Yesterday I would not have believed that tomorrow the sun would shine. Then one day you came into my life. I am alive again…

The baby immediately began to settle down, his whimpers subsiding, brown eyes starting to grow sleepy. Steve gazed down at the boy and realized the picture was still in his hand. He compared the two, mother and son. Steve had never missed Catherine quite so much as he did in that very moment, "I'm so sorry you had to be born into all this craziness," he spoke softly to Evan as the child's eyelids grew even heavier, "And if your mom was here right now she'd probably tell me to stop apologizing for what I can't control."

By the time the first song ended, Evan was completely out.

Steve continued to rock his son as the music played, only one thing on his mind, "Where's your mom, champ?" he whispered.

000

"What's wrong, my dear? I thought you'd be happy for your freedom, and for you own clothes," Nick Lawson watched her with attentive eyes.

"I'm grateful," Catherine sat on a cream colored sofa across from the man her father had once considered a friend. Her back ridged, a silky red dress clinging to her skin. The bra she wore felt like a torture device as her breasts rested heavily against her chest, full of unexpressed milk for the baby she longed to see again, to hold and nurse, "I don't know why they insisted I wear those ridiculous sweat pants and t-shirt, I guess to check my clothing for trackers or a wire," she lied.

He scrutinized her for a moment, "I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you on the boat last night. Wo Fat assured me his security would be top-notch for the auction, and yet Steve McGarrett so easily punched through them. But I'm so proud of how you got away from them," Lawson beamed, "I knew you were the right choice for this all along, even when Wo Fat had his doubts. I remember as a little girl how strong you were."

Catherine sighed, "I'm very tired," she hoped to appease him.

"I remember how tired you always were while carrying Evan," Nick recalled with a smile, "I should really contact the doctor to have you looked over. I'm worried that McGarrett might have hurt you or the child."

Her head shook, "No doctor, please. I'm fine. I just need some rest."

Lawson easily acquiesced to her requests, "Okay, no doctor. But you can't fool me, Catherine. I know how much you must miss Evan right now. Losing a son in any way, either to death or kidnapping, it breaks your heart. But unlike my Matthew, I assure you we'll get Evan back."

"I trust you," she nodded, "I understand the guards couldn't risk taking the fight to the mainland," Catherine smiled demurely, not wanting to tip him off about the true events that had transpired before Steve and Danny found her, "I was helpless in getting Evan back, but the important thing is that I managed to get away and came straight here. I had no way to contact the Kappa, but I remember you mentioning this place being the only safe spot on Oahu for you."

"This location is secure for now," Nick agreed. "But we'll need to return to the ship as soon as we retrieve Evan. Coast Guard is running more patrols than usual, but my people have us covered. I have eyes and ears on this island that McGarrett can't even begin to know about, but we're still better off at sea."

"Why do we need to get Evan back?" Catherine asked, trying hard not to feel guilty as she spoke the words, "We don't need him anymore. You'll have Wo Fat's child soon. That's what you wanted, isn't it? McGarrett's child is a… a liability," she gulped down the pain of uttering those words about her son.

"You don't need to lie to me, Catherine," Lawson got up and moved to sit beside her, "I know you cared about McGarrett very much, and that you were fooled by him for years before we rescued you," his right hand pressed against her shoulder, "I know for a fact you love your son more than anything. That's admirable. You're a very good mother, and a child needs its mother," Nick insisted. "Evan has also proven to be a helpful way of keeping you in line," he noted with a hint of distain.

"I came back to you on my own," she defended, only able to dwell on the last comment.

The man regarded her, "True, you did. But we need McGarrett's son. Having him in our arsenal was a gift I'd never expected. I'm so proud of how you dealt with seeing McGarrett again, but he needs to know the true consequences of his family's actions. And that means he can never be allowed to raise Evan."

"Zhu, the McGarrett family is insignificant compared to what you and Wo Fat have built together over the years," she tried to mollify, "Why do we need to bother with this vendetta any longer?" Catherine wondered.

He frowned, "Please don't make me question your loyalty again, Catherine. We've come so far from having to use this," he brushed his fingertips against the silk fabric wrapped about her neck," Lawson sighed and stood. "I didn't want to have to show you this, but…" he walked across the room and turned on the large screen TV. "This will be difficult for you," Nick warned, "But you need to understand how horrible McGarrett truly is."

Catherine sat forward a little, pushing away how tired she really was. Her eyes gazed at the screen as a news reporter began to speak.

"This was the scene earlier today in Pearl City where a man was killed by an unknown assailant," the camera panned over to a blue two-story house with a basketball hoop above a carport, "The quiet neighborhood was disturbed around 5pm tonight when a single gunshot penetrated the second-story window of this home and killed former Navy Lieutenant Commander William Harrington."

She sucked in a breath, "No…" Catherine whispered. "Please, not Billy…"

Lawson couldn't hide the delight upon his face as he watched her reaction.

The news camera zoomed to the front door of the house and focused in on a stretcher being pushed by two paramedics. "William Harrington was working with the Five-0 task force on a case that neither Commander McGarrett nor the governor wished to disclose any information on. However, we've been told by reliable sources that there's an island wide manhunt going on at this time, though we have no information on who is being hunted."

"Look," Lawson stabbed his index finger at the TV with accusation, "You see how McGarrett and his partner just stand there. They don't even care about Harrington, leaving him alone with the paramedics like he's no more than some stranger to them. He and McGarrett did a tour together, didn't they?" Nick could see the tears in her eyes and pushed further, "Now look how McGarrett just walks away and gets into that fancy black car."

With a shaky breath, Catherine turned her eye upon Lawson, "Turn it off, please."

He did so immediately and returned to her side, taking her hand in his, "I know Harrington was a friend of yours. His death was unnecessary. Why was he there with them?"

"I don't know," Catherine lied again, knowing Billy had to have been helping Steve and Danny search for Wo Fat. She was proud of them all for setting aside differences and working together. But the guilt pooling in her belly was overwhelming. "You've proven your point," the words were a whisper, the lies becoming almost too heavy to bear, "I'm on your side, Zhu. This," she brushed a hand against the fabric collar, "Why does it remain if I've proven my worth to you?" she dared to ask.

"You know it's meant to serve as a reminded of those earlier months," Lawson declared, "And to put you in your place should it ever be needed again."

"Then I'm still nothing more than a prisoner to you," Catherine sighed, "Even though you claim I've proved myself. You're no better than the McGarrett family, trying to impose their rule on others. You do the same. If you truly trusted me I'd be free to do as I wish."

"I know this is difficult to understand, but…"

"No, I understand. You rule, I follow."

"None of this has been easy on me either, Catherine," Nick attempted to appeal to her, "Years ago when Wo Fat rescued me I was completely lost. But now he looks to me like a father due to my years of loyal service and hard work. It has taken many years, years you've not even begun to serve," Lawson pointed out to her. "It's a slow process, but if you can give him this child he desires, a son to be brought up to rule one day in his stead, the same way Wo Fat stood up and took over for his father at a very young age…"

Catherine hardened herself again, "Then I'll finally have the freedoms you spoke of those first months when I resisted you and your plans?"

"Exactly," Nick smiled.

She'd been banking on that answer, "Then why don't we have Wo Fat meet us here," Catherine suggested, "If you and Wo Fat want to hurt McGarrett so badly then I think you should make your stand here on the island. McGarrett won't ever hurt me," she had faith in that fact, "If I stand with you and Wo Fat he won't be able to attack us because that would mean he'd have to risk killing me in the process."

"I think you may be right," Lawson was nearly salivating at the prospect. "You have no idea how I've longed for this. Since the day Wo Fat found me at Jaro Tech, even before that. Did you know I was the one who found and hired the Hess brothers for him? And with their help we arranged John McGarrett's murder down to the very last details, including that goodbye phone call with his son," he wore an intimidating smile.

Her head shook slightly, feeling like she might throw up listening to him, "No, you never told me," Catherine did her best not to stab him right then.

"Taunting McGarrett's son felt so good that I knew I needed more, something bigger. I thought John McGarrett's death would satisfy but it didn't," he revealed. "So I set new plans in motion to destroy his son. But that younger McGarrett is tougher than I ever imagined," Lawson spoke with a modicum of admiration. "But it's time to see the look on McGarrett's face when we take his son back and prove your loyalty to us. You're right; Wo Fat should be here for that moment. He deserves that special reward for his years of patients."

It took every ounce of strength she had left to smile in response to his malicious desires. "All of us should get exactly what we deserve for the parts we've played in all of this," Catherine concluded. She stood, but yielded to his command, "Do you mind if I rest now?"

Nick smiled again, this time like that of a father sending his daughter off to bed, "You're going to need your sleep," he agreed, waving her off.

Catherine climbed the stairs, one painful step at a time until she made her way to the room Lawson had assigned her. It was simply decorated, white billowy curtains, fluffy blue comforter upon the bed. She sat down on the edge of the bed, her thoughts a mess. Catherine had seen Chin and Danny remove Evan from the back of the car she'd stolen, but she had no idea where he was now. She couldn't be sure if Steve had figured out he was Evan's father, or if the baby was even safe.

All of the unknowns weighed heavily on her as she curled up on the bed.

She knew focusing on the path ahead was important, but her place of comfort was continually stuck in the past.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is Catherine Rollins there?"

Her smile was immediate upon hearing his slightly nervous voice, "Sorry, who?" she asked with a serious tone.

She could hear his soft chuckle over the line, suddenly relaxed, "Lieutenant Catherine Rollins?" he repeated, sure to include her rank. Catherine didn't reply right away, which prompted him to continue, "You were a little harder to find than I thought. Turns out you're not stationed around here, but I used my resources and figured out your father is stationed here. You're on leave?"

"Guilty," Catherine finally replied, having enjoyed the sound of his voice for a moment. "It couldn't have taken you very long to track me down, sailor. It's only," she stretched herself to glance at the clock on the nightstand in the guest room of her father's quarters. "0930, and you should know I like to sleep in on my leave days."

"Are you still in bed?" he swallowed hard.

"You mentioned something about dinner last night," Catherine avoided his question as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"I did," Steve agreed, "Meet me at Coronado beach tonight, near the hotel… 1730?"

Catherine's smile increased to hear the eagerness in his tone, "I don't know. I was actually looking forward to spending my day packing. I leave tomorrow afternoon for North Carolina."

"Are you being serious right now?" he wondered, "Or is this just more of your prickly nature that I seem to evoke?"

"Evoke?" she was impressed, "That's a good word, someone obviously paid attention in more than just SEAL class," Catherine let him suffer for a minute more before dodging his question again, "Don't you know things are better when you have to work hard for them?"

"Do I have any idea what I'm in for with you?" Steve asked, a bit skeptically.

"Probably not, 1730 sounds good," Catherine ended the call.

Eight hours later she walked along the beach wearing a long, pale-blue cotton skirt that skimmed along the sand. And a white peasant blouse with teal swirl design along the hem and sleeve cuffs. Her feet were bare, a pair of sandals stuffed in the mesh bag slung across her right shoulder and across her chest. She spotted him standing close to the water, blue jeans hugging the tautness of his butt and thigh muscles which had been rather hidden under his dress blues. A cobalt blue t-shirt and well-worm flip-flops completed his simple attire.

She snuck up behind him, "I'm surprised you actually showed, sailor."

He turned around, lopsided smile in place as soon as he faced her. "Why's that?" Steve reached for her left hand, recalling the softness of her palm against hers as they'd danced the night before. "Didn't think I was brave enough?"

"No, I just haven't exactly been very friendly to you," Catherine shrugged.

"So dancing with a guy for three hours is your way of being unfriendly?" his eyes narrowed a bit even as his brow arched, "In that case I'm definitely sticking around to see your friendlier side," he was rewarded by another flash of her softer side when she smiled. It was slightly over a week into February and the area was experiencing a chillier winter than usual for southern California. A mild breeze blew and he watched her shiver, "Maybe we should head to the restaurant? I made reservations for 1830, but…"

"Then we still have an hour," she interrupted, dropping her bag and settling down on the sand, "Sit," Catherine patted the spot beside her.

He grinned and sat as instructed, "Am I a dog now?"

Catherine leaned against him, grasping his arm and snuggling against his warm torso, "Let's watch the sun set."

Deep purple and dark blue sky pushed in as several gold and orange streaks flooded the horizon, "I know you're not stationed in North Carolina either," Steve broke their silence, "So do you have a serious boyfriend who lives back there, or maybe a fiancé?" he glanced over at her left hand, pretty sure he would've noticed a ring after three hours dancing with her. Steve saw the distant look in her brown eyes and felt bad for prying, "You don't have to tell me."

"I always try to spend equal time with my dad and mom," she revealed.

"Child of divorce," he guessed.

She nodded, "My mom lives with Ted in North Carolina. Ted the shoe salesman."

Steve noticed the way she rolled her eyes when mentioning Ted, "I'm guessing he's a step-dad?"

"Soon to be," Catherine replied. "They're getting married in a few months, which is why I'm visiting now."

Steve wasn't sure how to take her comment, "You don't want to be at the wedding?" he questioned.

"Not really. Maybe I'll go if I get a forty-eight hour leave, but I'd rather see her before," she pulled away from his arm and looking into his eyes. "You should know I'm not looking for anything serious here, I mean… I find you very… I don't normally dance with complete strangers for hours. I really had a great time with you last night, but I…"

"I'm headed to Iraq in a few days," he reminded her. "I'm not looking for anything serious either."

A smile finally returned to her face, "Good, I'm glad we're in agreement," she said before closing her eyes and capturing his lips with her own.

His touch was soft and so much gentler than she could've imagined. But with a simple press of her fingers against the back of his neck the kiss evolved. His tongue pressed against her lips and she parted for him, willingly, shamelessly.

She woke up snuggled beside him much later that night, her head resting against his chest. Both sand and sunset had been replaced by a motel room, the sound of the surf outside their window the only reminder of their first kiss on the beach. The shallow rise and fall of his breathing was a comfort to her confused mind. Her mother's impending wedding and visiting her workaholic father had her stomach in a constant state of turmoil. And now possibly the nicest guy she'd ever met had suddenly showed up in her life.

Catherine couldn't help recall the way he'd so easily made her body both relax and shudder with desire at the same time.

"Morning, Lieutenant," Steve sleepily greeted as he turned to face her.

"Actually, it's still the middle of the night," Catherine whispered, sitting up and taking part of the sheet with her. "I should've been home hours ago."

His eyes opened, wide awake all of a sudden. "Really?" Steve sat up, "What are you, a sixteen year old with a curfew?"

"No, but I'm meant to be spending time with my dad this week and I leave tomorrow…"

"I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have crowded in on your time," Steve said the words even as he kissed her bare shoulder, "Where you planning to sneak out on me?"

She bit her bottom lip as he continued to kiss up her neck, "I would've left a note."

"A note?"

"I told you…"

"I know, nothing serious," he nodded, still keeping her close, "You're not ashamed about sleeping with me so soon, are you? It is our second date," Steve grinned.

"Ugh," she sighed, cupping his cheek, "This would be so much easier if you weren't such a nice guy."

"Sorry," Steve looked her in the eye.

"And stop apologizing," her hand moved from his cheek to the back of his neck as she drew his lips toward her, his touch setting her skin on fire again, "You owe me," she said, catching her breath as she pulled out of the kiss, "Dinner," Catherine clarified, "Because we never made it there last night."

"But you just said you had to leave, and you fly out this afternoon."

"I didn't mean today," she shrugged.

He shook his head, "You're gonna be a handful, aren't you?" Steve kissed her on the lips again. "Will you write me when I'm in Iraq?"

Catherine's eyes widened, "Write? Like pen pals?"

Steve chuckled, "No, but friends stay in touch. They write each other emails or call on occasion. And they go out for dinner when they're in the same city, or don't go out to dinner…"

"You're gonna be a handful, aren't you?" she sarcastically echoed his words, dropping the sheet and getting out of bed, roaming the small room to gather her clothes. She found her skirt and top, but one important item eluded her for a moment.

He reached down and plucked it off the floor, "You wouldn't happen to be looking for this?" Steve held her white bra by the delicate lacy patch between the cups.

She could see the amusement on his face as she took it from him. "Thanks, unless you'd like a trophy to show your SEAL buddies?"

"I'm going to miss your sass, lieutenant," he sighed, extracting himself from bed and pulling on his boxer briefs.

Her eyes had a hard time focusing anywhere but on his muscular body, "And I'm going to miss your rhymes-with-sass, sailor," she concluded before stuffing her bra in her bag and finally exiting the room, already daydreaming about their next encounter.

Catherine laid her head against the pillow in the strange room of Lawson's safe house. Her knowledge that sleep wouldn't come that night was born from months of the same. She hadn't slept well for almost a year, not since the night before she'd left for Russia, Steve pressed beside her in the bed they'd picked out together. Catherine rubbed the spot where her left ring finger no longer existed, wondering how Steve McGarrett had managed to knit himself so seamlessly into her life when she'd vowed not to let things grow serious.

He'd gone to Iraq, her to her mother's place and then back to her post on the carrier. She'd even gone to her mother's wedding later that year and told Steve about it on their quasi-third date six months after the second, which had ended much the same - never making it to dinner. She'd written him emails, mostly long-winded accounts about the routine of her days. His responses were always short, usually only a paragraph or two. A year after first meeting they'd gone bowling and drinking with his friends Freddie and Kelly.

That pattern had persisted for a while, brief encounters several months apart when their schedules allowed, and then a momentary breakup.

Somehow their agreement of not looking for anything serious hadn't gone as planned.

All of that seemed like a different lifetime when she thought about it now, after the past nine and half agonizingly long months spent apart. "Hopefully it'll be over soon," she whispered to herself, breath trapped against the pillow, "One way or another."

She closed her eyes, comforted somewhat by the memory of his lopsided grin.

---

To be continued…