Early the next week, Steve peered at the ultrasound screen.
"My sister says the babies are going to be badass," he said. "What do you think doc? They looking badass in there?"
The obstetrician laughed as she carefully moved the ultrasound wand over Jax's belly. "Well, thirty-two weeks . . . they are badass enough that if for some reason - and I don't recommend it, mind you - but if you went into labor and delivered today? They would be okay. Extra, extra tiny, but okay."
"Wow," Jax breathed. "Seriously?"
"Ummhmm," she said. "Baby Two - have you picked names yet? - anyway, Baby Two is still smaller, proportionately, but also growing proportionately. Her lungs would need a little help, as of today. A few more weeks, not even that. And Baby One, based on weight, would probably not even need any interventions. Which brings me to a very important discussion: your birth plan."
"My what?" Jax asked.
"The notes from the gynecology specialist indicate that you were informed you would most likely need to plan a C-section," she said. "This was based on several factors - the adhesions, scarring . . ." she paused as Steve's hand wrapped around Jax's shoulder, his thumb tracing over her collarbone gently. "The average size of a singleton infant was part of that equation."
"What are you saying, doc?" Steve asked.
"The equation has changed," she replied. "Multiples are smaller, generally speaking, and Jax's case falls into that generality. The babies, individually, are smaller than average. A C-section might not be medically necessary."
Jax was silent, pondering the idea and fidgeting with the hem of the sheet.
The obstetrician folded her arms and propped a hip against the railing at the end of the bed. "You don't seem at all excited about this news."
"Sorry," Jax said. "Should I be excited?"
"Well, most women would prefer to avoid a C-section," she answered. "It's a surgery, after all. Involves an incision, stitches . . . a longer recovery period. A scar."
"Yeah, well . . ." Jax said, half smiling. "I seem to collect those."
The obstetrician smiled. "It would be minimal, actually, compared to your trophies from 9-11 and service here in Hawaii. So, let's take that off the list of concerns. A C-section would still mean an incision. Stitches. Longer hospital stay, restricted movement . . . you'd be limited in picking up the babies, at first. But, a traditional delivery would have risks as well. I assume with your emergency medical training, you're more familiar with those risks."
Jax nodded slowly and glanced up at Steve. He had a rudimentary knowledge, as well.
"Ah," the obstetrician said. "The standard risks, with which you're already familiar, coupled with your own unique medical history and risks . . ."
"It just - I had assumed, based on what I was told, that I'd be having a C-section," Jax said. "I - in that scenario, everything is planned. Controlled." She looked out the window, away from the doctor. Away from Steve.
The obstetrician propped a hip on the foot of Jax's bed and put a gentle hand on her knee. "That's important to you," she said quietly. "A sense of control."
Jax nodded silently, and Steve's thumb traced its comforting path over her collarbone again.
"I can understand that," the obstetrician said. "I'll send you home with some literature, and you can read over it. We'll make an appointment - soon, because twins have an uncanny way of arriving early - and discuss this further. We'll discuss your preferences. Commander, you will of course be involved, but this is Jax's op, are we clear on that?"
"Absolutely," Steve said firmly.
"And may I suggest . . . talk to Lieutenant Allen as part of the decision process," the obstetrician said gently. "For now, though, I suggest going and doing something relaxing. You both look stressed."
The doctor left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
"Hey," Steve said softly. "We'll read over the stuff, you decide, right? Your op."
Jax nodded and started grabbing for her clothes, her movements abrupt and frustrated. She still avoided meeting his eyes.
"I'll be right outside the door, I'm going to text the office real quick," he said.
"You have to go back in," Jax said. "Immunity and means doesn't mean you have the day off every time I have an appointment. I'm fine."
He flashed a grin at her. "Trust me, I have an idea."
"Isn't that about the time Danny starts to pull on his vest?" Jax asked.
#*#*#*#*#
Kono bounced on the balls of her feet, watching the end of the range anxiously for the sight of Steve's Silverado. The rest of the team sorted out weapons and boxes of ammunition.
"Hell, Kono, when Steve gave you free reign of the armory and the month's budget for practice ammo, you didn't waste any time, did you?" Grover grumbled, pulling another case from his SUV.
"Nope," Kono said cheerfully.
"Please tell me you did not bring any flashbangs or grenades," Danny said. He eyed her suspiciously.
"Scout's honor," Kono said. She raised her hand in a shaka sign.
"That's not -" Danny started, but her excited wave interrupted him.
"They're here," she declared. She jogged toward the truck, barely waiting for Steve to put it in park before flinging open the passenger door.
"Hey, Kono," Jax said, grinning, as she stepped down. She used the running board now, instead of jumping, and she hated it.
"Did Steve tell you?" Kono asked breathlessly.
"That it's range day? Yeah," Jax answered.
"No, that he's going to put you on the SR-25 today," Kono said.
Jax looked up at Steve, who had sauntered around the front of the truck.
"The Knight's Armament sniper?" Jax asked, looking up at him with wide eyes. "No shit."
Danny rolled his eyes at the three of them. "Seriously?"
"The doc said, 'do something relaxing'," Steve said.
"Unbelievable," Danny muttered, throwing his hands in the air.
"You don't mind?" Jax asked, as Kono grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the booth set up with the high powered rifle. "This is your baby."
"When your arms get tired, we'll trade off," Kono said. "Besides, I have to requalify with my handgun next month. I need to practice that first."
Steve snorted. "Hardly," he said. "You could requal left-handed with a hangover. You just want to stay on record as having higher marksmanship scores than anyone in HPD."
"Shootz, boss, I wanna eventually go on record as having higher marksmanship scores than anyone in Five-O," Kono tossed over her shoulder. She and Jax stepped into the booth, arranging their ear protection.
"You've got a decade of experience on her, Steve," Chin said, clapping a hand on Steve's shoulder. "She'll have trouble catching up with you."
"Yeah," Steve sighed. He watched Kono and Jax fondly. "But her eyes and reflexes will always be a decade younger than mine. She'll have trouble, but she'll catch me."
"Better practice, then, old man," Chin said, grinning as he headed off to his beloved shotgun.
Steve stood behind Kono and Jax, nodding in approval as Kono caught Jax up to speed on the rifle, reminding her of some of the finer points. He thought back to the first time he'd brought Jax to the range, right after she'd arrived on the island. Her shoulder and collarbone had been badly injured, and she'd spent the day gritting her teeth against the pain and practicing with her non-dominant hand. Today, her shoulder was completely healed, her arms strong and lean from swimming. Her first grouping was better than respectable, and Kono threw up a fist in celebration.
"Decent," Jax said, squinting down the line at the target.
"Damn good," Kono said. "It's been months since you've handled a rifle, much less the SR-25."
Steve's hand rested briefly on Kono's shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?" he asked.
"Go for it, boss," Kono said. "Just remember, this is a family friendly range," she added, winking at them.
Steve shook his head, laughing, as Kono moved to the next booth. His hand wrapped around Jax's hip as he stood close behind her. Her curls sparkled, warm in the sunlight, and the familiar smell of honeysuckle and gunpowder drifted up to him.
"How'd it feel?" he asked, low, in the ear not covered by the protective gear.
She shivered in the mid-day sun, and he chuckled wickedly.
"Good," she said. "Different. My center of gravity is different, and I'm having to compensate."
He tilted his head. "Not sure what to tell you, to be honest," he said. "Just get a feel for it. Want to try a longer shot?"
"Hell yeah," Jax said.
He slipped her ear protection back into place and adjusted his own. A hand signal to the range attendant sent the target a few more meters down. Jax let out a slow breath and squeezed off several rounds, patiently, unhurried.
Steve grabbed a pair of binocs and looked at the target. He handed them to Jax and lifted her ear protection.
"Nice," he whispered.
She smiled in satisfaction as she studied her grouping - fairly close to center, reasonably tight.
"More?" he asked, his lips brushing under her ear.
"More," she murmured.
"What else do you want to shoot today?" he asked.
"Everything," she said, carefully adjusting the scope on the rifle. "I want to shoot everything."
#*#*#*#*#
Steve stole glances at Jax on the drive home.
"What?" she sighed. She could feel his gaze on her, even with her eyes closed and her head tilted back on the seat.
"You're a little sunburned, 'cross your nose," he said. "Otherwise . . . did you have a good afternoon?"
"The best," she sighed. "You know I love going to the range. Hanging out with the team . . . thanks." She opened her eyes and looked at him.
"You're welcome," he said, smiling. "It was good. How'd the babies like it?"
Jax chuckled and put a hand on the curve of her stomach. "I don't think they cared one way or another." She sighed, staring out the window.
"Jax . . . you're gonna have to help me out, here," he said quietly. "I can't - if you don't tell me what you're thinking, I can't - look. I get that you were kinda thrown, today, by what the doctor said but . . . I'm not sure I understand why. It is . . . is it the thing with, you know, not being in control? Because, I get that, I do. And if -"
"Please," she said. "Please can we . . . not tonight. Tonight, I want to just smell the gunpowder and feel the gun oil on my fingers and . . . please."
"Okay," he said, wrapping a hand around her knee. "Okay, ku'uipo."
#*#*#*#*#
He held her, wrapped in her favorite quilt, as they looked up at the stars.
"You still smell like gunpowder," he murmured, nuzzling her cheek.
"Hmm, so do you," she said. She snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his chest. His fingers brushed absent circles on her shoulder and arm, and she was so quiet and still that he thought, for a bit, that she'd drifted off to sleep.
"I've taken bullets," she said quietly. "Broken bones, blunt force trauma . . . I've been knifed."
"I know," he whispered.
"I handled all of it," she said. "I handled all of it, just fine, and it came with the job. I knew what I signed on for. We all do."
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I know," he repeated.
She was quiet for a long time before she finally spoke again. "I'm not some chickenshit," she said quietly. "It's not that."
He hugged her close. "You are not a chickenshit," he agreed. "But I know you're tired. Come to bed. Dream of sniper rifles."
She grinned, looking up at him. "You say the sweetest things."
#*#*#*#*#
Jax popped her head through the neck of her scrub shirt and then did a double take.
"What gives?" she asked, eyeing Steve's crisp trousers and blazer curiously. "You're wearing grown-up clothes."
"Meeting with the governor," he said, smiling. "Danny has pointed out that it doesn't hurt to try to offset the image of Five-O as being, um, trigger happy."
"Everything okay?" she asked quietly. "Have I been so caught up in - have I missed something?"
"No, Jax," he assured her, cupping her face in his hands. "No, I need to talk to her, get a feel for where she'd fall in the situation with Joe. See if, maybe, she'd be an ally."
"You think he'll come in?" Jax asked. "Do you think we'll ever see him again?"
Steve shook his head. "I have no idea, honestly. I'd like to think that he could, though. That his one questionable choice would be taken in context of decades of service to his country."
"Seems only fair," Jax said. "Good luck."
He kissed her cheek, gently, tenderly. "Have a good day," he said. His eyes fell on the stack of pamphlets sent home from the doctor's office, and he felt Jax tense. She pulled away from him carefully.
"I gotta run," she said. "Be there in plenty of time to get reports from the last shift."
"Jax," he said, tugging her to him and holding her close. "I love you," he whispered into her ear, quickly, fiercely, and then he let her go.
She flung her arms around his neck, standing on tip toe. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck. "Love you, too," she whispered back.
His hand cradled her jaw, his long fingers slipping under her ear. "You're okay?"
"Of course," she replied, quickly. "I'm okay, Steve. I - we'll talk, about . . . you know. Later. I'm okay." She turned her head, pressed another kiss to the palm of his hand, and then she was off, wrapping her stethoscope around her neck as she headed down the stairs.
#*#*#*#*#
"How's Jax?" Governor Pat Jameson asked, gesturing for Steve to take a seat across from her desk. "Feeling okay? Babies doing okay? I can't believe WoFat got his hands on her - again."
"Yes, ma'am, she's doing alright," Steve said. "I wanted to talk to you about WoFat, about how we got Jax back."
"Go on," she said.
"Well, as you know, my mother was ready and willing to cooperate with the exchange," Steve said, "and the Navy and the CIA both approved the plan. They were happy to have her back in active service again. They believe - we believe - that she can help bring down his entire network."
"So I've been informed," Jameson said.
"None of that would have happened, ma'am, without Commander Joe White," Steve said, leaning forward. "He facilitated the entire exchanged."
"Hmm, because he knew Shelburne's identity this whole time," she said. She arched an eyebrow at Steve. "He was in a convenient position to facilitate, seeing as how he'd been withholding information."
"Until the time and situation was right," Steve said. "Five-O operates with immunity and means, governor, or it's pointless."
"I can not create a task force that outranks the US military," she said. "I don't have that kind of authority."
"Five-O doesn't outrank the military, but it could be considered paramilitary," Steve argued. "Civilian authority of the highest order - yours."
"What's your point?" she asked.
"Joe has collaborated with Five-O on numerous missions," Steve said. "He's contributed to the task force, and to the citizens and government of Hawaii."
"You want immunity and means - emphasis on immunity - for Joe," she said. "That's what you're getting at."
"Yes, ma'am," Steve said. "Look, I get that he put the Navy in a difficult position. I do. But Five-O is unique. It's civilian, but elite. Everything about Five-O stands unprecedented. I believe that immunity could be extended to Joe without compromising the integrity of the task force or of your office."
She studied him for a moment. "Let me talk with legal," she said finally. "And with the governors of the other states where we've just helped launch new task force groups. We do set a precedent, now. Other states will look at our actions."
"I understand," Steve said, standing up. "Thank you for your consideration."
"Steve," she said, as he reached the door. "I'm damn glad you got her back."
"We all are, ma'am," he said. "And I'm asking that we remember who made it possible. That's all."
#*#*#*#*#
"Good call yesterday afternoon," Danny said, quietly, standing in the door of Steve's office. "It was nice to hang out with Jax again, with the team. She seemed to enjoy it."
"Guns and coffee," Steve murmured. He'd come out of the locker room in his usual cargo pants and boots, and was pulling a polo shirt out of his desk drawer. "She's always been damn easy to please, Danny. Doesn't ask for much, you know? Just . . . can't seem to catch a break."
"Appointment go okay yesterday?" Danny asked. "I noticed the two of you rather obviously avoided talking about it yesterday so I didn't ask."
"Yeah, I guess," Steve said. "She was told she'd have to have a C-section. Now, they're saying maybe not? She seems . . . I don't know, freaked out. Quietly, mind you, but I can tell. I'm not sure I understand. We have stuff to read . . ." He pulled the shirt over his head, sighing.
Danny nodded, pulling his lip in thoughtfully. "You, ah . . . you have questions, feel free to ask me and Rach, okay, big guy?"
Steve looked at him sharply. "Shit. I feel like you know something I don't, Danny."
"Unsettling and unusual, isn't it?" Danny asked kindly. "Just . . . okay. I'm gonna say one word, just one . . . medical term, if you will, to get you started . . . and you do the reading, I think you might start to get the picture. Okay?"
"Okay, Danny," Steve said earnestly, and Danny had to smile.
"You're such a good guy, Steven, you know that?" Danny said. "Okay. When Jax isn't looking - this is important, pay attention - when Jax isn't looking, you look up episiotomy."
"Epi - Danny, what -" Steve started.
"Unh unh," Danny said, shaking his head. "You're a good friend. A brother. There are some things I'm not explaining. Look it up." He thumped the door frame on his way back to his office.
#*#*#*#*#
Jax wrinkled her nose as she poured a cup of decaf in the nurses' lounge. She glanced up as Gus marched into the room and stood next to her.
"You're brooding," Gus said bluntly, hands on her hips. "Why are you brooding? Are you hormonal?"
Jax chuckled and shook her head as she poured a bit of cream into her coffee. "Maybe, Gus."
"Shit, you had an appointment yesterday," Gus said in a softer tone. "Everything okay?"
Jax bit her lip. "I was told by one specialist that if I got pregnant, I would absolutely deliver via C-section. Yesterday, the ob said maybe not. Because of twins being smaller." She glanced down at her stomach. "Nothing about this entire ridiculous scenario seems small. I almost had to ask Steve to tie my shoes this morning."
"Time to trade up to the clogs," Gus said. "Ugly as a warty toad but no laces. Anyway. 'Maybe not' doesn't sound like a glowing endorsement. I'd say, demand they schedule a section. I know, you'll get a lot of whooey - not so much here, thank God, military hospitals aren't big on whooey - about it being a beautiful, natural whatever. Like somehow it's proof of being a real woman or a good mother. I call bullshit. Schedule the damn section. And stop brooding."
"Yeah?" Jax said, considering.
"Well, I mean, I don't have kids so I don't have up close and personal experience," Gus said. "But for what it's worth . . . look. I've helped deliver babies in combat zones. I get it. It's an uncontrolled, uncertain scenario. Someone with control issues -"
"I don't have control issues," Jax protested weakly.
Gus laughed, loud and heartily. "I didn't say it was a bad thing, mind you, and don't even start with me. I see you check your back-up with security every single morning. Your control issues are armed and dangerous, and I suspect there's damn good reason for it. Stop apologizing for who you are, Jax. Own it. Demand the C-section. And tell me when to stop scheduling you for shifts, don't mess with my staffing."
She turned crisply on her heel and headed out of the room, leaving a bemused Jax in her wake.
#*#*#*#*#
Danny was filling out yet another incident report - the entire team dumped these on him, always, without fail - when he sensed a shadow falling over his desk. He glanced up to see Steve looming in his office.
"I swear to God - some people, you know, consider it polite to tap, even on an open door," Danny groused. "I coulda been working on something confidential. Or sensitive. Personal, maybe."
"Like looking up medical terms," Steve said weakly. He collapsed in the chair across from Danny's desk.
"I didn't - you just couldn't wait until you got home, could you," Danny sighed, putting down his ballpoint pen. The governor had started demanding incident reports in triplicate. "So, the 'I am SEAL trained I can deliver a baby on a moving aircraft carrier in a hurricane' didn't actually prepare you for shit, did it?"
"Aircraft carriers have doctors. Surgeons," Steve said absently. "We're trained to give aid to fellow SEALs. I can clamp an artery, deal with a collapsed lung . . . we had one afternoon session on delivering a baby. The scenario was being pinned down in hostile territory with a group of civilians."
"And that's rare, for SEALs," Danny guessed.
"Hell yes, we get the civilians out, we don't get pinned down," Steve said. "That's the point."
"No, I think the point is that you know nothing about childbirth," Danny said, "or the aftermath."
"There was a video," Steve said, paling. "You told me to look up episiotomy. You shoulda warned me, Danny. Did - no. I don't wanna know."
Danny sighed and started to begin the process of talking his best friend through his latest crisis, but his phone and Steve's alerted at the same time. He could hear the phones of the rest of the team pinging as well.
"What the hell is breaking loose?" Danny said, grabbing at his cell.
"Shit," Steve said, leaping from Danny's chair. "The Admiral Clarey Bridge - there's reports of explosions."
Danny was right behind him, rushing to the center room along with the rest of the team.
"Steve, it's the bridge -" Chin was saying. Kono's eyes were wide with fear.
Steve was frantically calling Nick, his knuckles clenched white around his phone. Danny looked at Chin, his eyebrows raised in question.
"The Admiral Clarey Bridge - if it's true that there are explosions," Chin explained quietly, "then Pearl Harbor Hickam joint base could be under attack."