"Please tell me you have not been dragging those old, tired things out of the attic every Christmas," Mary said. She was faced off against Steve, her hands fisted on her tiny hips. "I don't know if it's stingy or pathetic. Or both."

"But you're surprised, aren't you, that I even put up a tree," Steve said. "And lights."

"Yes and no," Mary sighed. "Because you're a big softy, and I bet that first year, Danny's little girl looked up at you with those big brown eyes, and asked when Uncle Steve was going to put up his tree. And it was probably done the next morning."

Steve rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "That night, actually. Seriously, Mare, the things are still in pretty good shape. And all of the ornaments from when we were kids . . ."

"Okay, I give you the sentimentality of the ornaments, you giant marshmallow," Mary said. "But Steve, think about it - a thirty year old artificial tree? It's a fire hazard."

"You're probably right," he admitted.

"Plus, did it occur to you that Jax might like to choose something?" Mary asked.

"No, it did not, because Jax just isn't . . . " he tried to explain.

"What fresh sibling rivalry have we here?" Jax asked, coming down the stairs. "And Jax isn't what?"

"What did you think of the Christmas stuff we put up last year?" Steve asked.

"It was . . . Christmassy?" Jax offered. "I don't know. There were lights, and it made Gracie happy. I think she was worried that Santa wouldn't be able to find us."

"I rest my case," Steve said. "Mary thinks our stuff is lame."

"And a fire hazard," Mary added.

"Why?" Jax asked.

"Because it's thirty years old," Mary said. She set her jaw stubbornly.

Jax's eyes widened, and she looked up at Steve. "Wait, that's not stuff that you got when you came back to the island?"

"No, it was in the attic," he said. He had a sinking feeling that he was about to be outnumbered.

"The lights?" Jax asked faintly.

"Probably from the nineties," Steve admitted. "They still work."

Jax glanced at Mary and then back at Steve. "Babe. You're FDNY's worst nightmare."

"So, Jax and I are going to go pick out some new things," Mary said. "Steve, we'll still hang all the family ornaments. It's just . . . don't you think it's time for some new traditions? The house is still full of ghosts. I mean, our mother has come back to life, which is weird, but . . . "

"Okay, Mare," he said, smiling down at her. "Don't go crazy. You're not even going to be here, remember?"

"I know, that's why I need to make sure this is done right before I leave," Mary said. "I'm going to go get ready." She bounced down the hall toward her room.

Steve wrapped his arms around Jax. "Good morning," he murmured into her hair. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm not sick or injured," she protested. "Gus just refused to schedule me because I can't see my damn feet. I'm a tripping hazard. I'm going to be out of work for ages. Seven more weeks before my due date, and then six weeks after that . . ."

"Jax, your job at Tripler is secure," he assured her. "If you want to go back."

She looked up at him, horrified. "I want to go back."

"Okay," he laughed.

"That's okay, right?" she asked, anxious. "I mean, my mom stayed home with us, and your mom worked, so . . . you're okay with me working, right?"

"I'm okay with whatever makes you happy," he said. "Renee works, Rachel stays home right now. There's no wrong choice, Jax, not as far as I'm concerned."

She relaxed against him, resting her head against his chest. She had to scoot her feet back a little, to accommodate her belly, and he was glad that she couldn't see the grin on his face.

"When we go for my next visit, then, you can check out the day care at Tripler," Jax said. "I want you to see it, make sure you think it's okay."

He rubbed circles on her back. "Okay, we'll do that. You sure you're up for going out with Mary today?"

"Goodness, yes," Jax said. "I'll need something to do, while I'm benched. Sounds like decorating will make Mary happy, and it will give me something to do. I'll probably end up cooking way too much, but that's okay, the team will be coming over, right?"

"Christmas Eve," Steve said. "Started the first year of the task force, not gonna change if I can help it."

"Good," Jax said. "Although we'll miss Grover this year. It's their year to go back to Chicago for the holidays. And Mary. Speaking of, I better go get ready."

"She just got in the shower," Steve laughed. "Trust me, you've got plenty of time. Come look at what I have planned for the Airstream."

She took his hand and followed him to the side yard. The Airstream was parked, as always, on a small level patch of grass, facing the driveway. A series of neatly driven stakes and colorful marking tape now surrounded the vintage trailer.

"So, first, I'm thinking of having a parking pad poured for it," Steve said. "That's where you see the blue taped stakes. If we get a lot of rain, the ground could wash away from under it. It's pretty sandy. And then, I was thinking, instead of cement stepping stones, maybe build what looks like a little boardwalk, from the driveway to the pad, and from the pad to the house. So our guests can come and go without getting wet or sandy. What do you think?"

"A boardwalk?" Jax asked, smiling. "Seriously?"

"Well, it won't be exactly like the Jersey shore, but -"

His explanation was cut short by her arms wrapping around his neck.

"It's going to be perfect," she whispered. "I'll love it. Our guests will love it. Will you have it done before the Harts come?"

"Absolutely," he said. "And . . . later, sometime, if you want to ask your parents to come . . . "

"They've never called," she said quietly. "Since 9/11, since they left, without even going to Billy's service, they . . . not once. Danny told them, he wouldn't change his personal cell number, because of all his family and friends in New York, you know? He made sure they had it. They've never called."

"They don't know you're married," Steve said. "They don't know about the babies. Maybe . . . if they knew . . . "

"I know," Jax said. "I know, and maybe I should . . . I just . . . I wanted them to call for me. Not for . . . they'd love you. My mom, she'd be so impressed because you're an officer. And my dad, he'd respect you, your service. But me . . . they haven't called for me."

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his lips brushing against her curls.

"I'm sorry your mom won't be here," she said. "Maybe next year."

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "That would be incredibly weird. But . . . yeah. Mom and Uncle Joe, showing up for Christmas. God, what a mess."

"You think you mom and Joe . . . ever . . . you know . . . " Jax trailed off thoughtfully.

Steve looked at her with a horrified expression on his face. "Why do you do that?" he hissed, glancing down the hall anxiously toward Mary's room. "First my dad and the governor, now - what the hell?"

Jax snorted with laughter.

#*#*#*#*#*#

"Don't have the babies until I get back," Mary said, squeezing Jax tight at the security gate, just before boarding for her flight.

"I'll do my best," Jax said. "Don't remember all the things you loved about LA and decide to stay."

Mary laughed. "Not a chance. I'll be home. Not for Christmas, but soon."

Jax drove out of the city limits to the ramshackled auto parts lot where she'd scrounged parts for both the Supra and the Marquis. She'd spotted a VW there on her last trip. It still sat, near the front of the lot.

"Hey, my favorite haole," the owner called out. He was a cousin of Kamekona's. Or Kono's. Maybe both.

"Howzit," Jax said, grinning.

"Ah, see, I knew, you stay long enough, you pick up the bird," he said, smiling back at her. "You need more parts?"

"Actually, I'm ready to start another project," Jax said.

"Looks like it," he said, gesturing to her belly.

"Well, that too," Jax said. "But I am thinking about that little baby bug right there."

"Yeah? That's not built for speed, sistah," he said, frowning.

"Good, because it's for Steve's sister," Jax said.

#*#*#*#*#

Jax came home to the empty, quiet house. She put down her keys and phone and walked around, looking at the decorations that she and Mary had finished the day before. Simple green garland was swagged on the landing railing, twinkling with white lights. An artificial tree stood in the front window, several brightly wrapped packages underneath.

She sat down on the sofa and stared into the room. Pupule jumped up onto the sofa and tried to climb into her lap. He looked suspiciously at her belly and settled next to her with a disgruntled sound.

"I know, buddy," she said, scritching the top of his head. She sighed, then got up and went into the kitchen. Ingredients and measuring cups and bowls were lined up neatly on the counter, but it was too early to start cooking. Next she went into the babies' room. She gave each colorful mobile a spin, watching the colorful cars and sailboats dance over the cribs.

They hadn't quite finished organizing the babies' closet.. A couple of her boxes from New York still sat on the floor, stacked neatly. She knelt down awkwardly and opened the top one. It was the box of random items from her various cases in New York. She'd only opened it once before, to pull out the items she needed undercover in the racing scene. One by one, she pulled out the items, turning them over idly in her hands. She could imagine Danny and his sister, looking at each other in confusion, as they'd emptied this particular drawer into a box. There was the leather mini skirt from a vice bust. She wrinkled her nose in distaste and dropped it back. Her fingers brushed against a traffic ticket book and she groaned. Her days as a beat cop were long, hot, and exhausting. Memorable, in the worst kind of way. She shoved it aside impatiently and caught her fingers on a black apron.

Her last undercover . . . the Irish bar, with Patrick. The shift she'd missed when . . .

She shoved the box into the back of the closet, her hands shaking. A voice in the back of her head told her to walk away, to go to the kitchen and start doing something - anything. But her shaking hands moved to the next box, opening it. She remembered the contents of this box - Billy's personal effects. She turned the items over in her hands, reverently, unaware of the tears streaking down her face.

She was only vaguely aware of finally standing up, walking on autopilot out the back door and down to the water's edge.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve was on the phone with Nick when Danny came into his office.

"You want me to come in and help?" Steve asked. He gestured for Danny to take a seat across from him. "Okay, yeah. Thanks, Nick. You and Catherine . . . yeah? Well, enjoy the time. Keep me posted."

"Any progress?" Danny asked, when Steve hung up the phone.

"They managed to recover a hard drive from one of the laptops from Adam's house," Steve said. "They'll go over it with a fine-tooth comb. But it's going to take time."

"So, no rushing of to Pearl Hickam on this, the final hour of our workday, before our well-earned Christmas Eve and Christmas Day vacation?" Danny asked.

"No rushing off to Pearl Hickam," Steve confirmed. "Not today. Today, I'm going to go home, see Jax."

"Ah, and not Mary," Danny grinned. "No wonder we're not rushing off to Pearl Hickam."

#*#*#*#*#

Caviness smiled as Kono opened the front door of her cottage and squealed in delight.

"It came!" she shouted. "Our gift for Steve and Jax came. Holy shit, that was cutting it close."

He watched as she flicked out a blade and neatly slit the tape on the package. She folded back the bubble wrap and pulled out two neatly folded items.

"One black and one camo?" Caviness said.

"SWAT and spec ops," Kono said absently. "They'll probably carry different stuff, they need to be able to tell them apart."

"I can't believe you found diaper bags with tactical elastic," Caviness said.

"Texas," Kono shrugged, and Caviness nodded. That did explain a lot, actually.

#*#*#*#*#

The Silverado rumbled to a stop in the driveway, and Steve climbed out, humming. He'd never much bothered to celebrate the holidays while he was active duty. He paused and looked at the house before he went up the porch stairs. He had intended to come home for the holidays, a couple of times. Instead, he'd ended up agreeing to take one more mission, one more chase. He would always call his dad, though . . . usually on a sat phone.

Like the one he'd been talking on when he'd heard him murdered.

His steps toward the house were slower, his feet dragging a bit as he went up the front steps. Opening the front door slowly, his eyes were drawn to the wall where . . . he shook his head, trying to push the thoughts, the memories, aside.

"Jax?" he called softly. The house was silent, and he headed toward the stairs, thinking that perhaps she was finally starting to admit her need for extra rest during the day. Clutter on the floor of the babies' room caught his eye, and he stepped in. His eyes swept over the open boxes. Her commendations, random belongings . . . Billy's medals, his gloves . . .

"Shit," he swore. He called her name louder, fighting a sense of panic in the silence that followed. Pupule meowed loudly, a big paw pushing against the back door. Steve moved quickly to the kitchen and looked out, sighing in relief when he saw the sun glinting off her red curls. She was sitting in one of the wooden chairs, looking out over the water. He let the screen door thud closed, and saw her hastily wiping at her face as he approached.

"You don't have to do that," he said softly, crouching beside her chair. "You don't have to try to pull yourself together, ku'uipo. It's just me." He cupped her face in his hand, his thumb brushing away a few tears, and kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I came home from the airport, and the house was empty and - okay, as much as I love your sister, I thought I was looking forward to a couple days, you know, but I guess - and I don't know why I looked through those stupid boxes, and -" she stopped, shaking her head.

He sat down in the chair close to hers and took her hand in his.

"I had the option, on several of my tours, to catch a flight home for the holidays," he said quietly. "And every time, I would imagine it - catching a taxi from the airport, so I could surprise my dad. What it would feel like to walk up the front steps again. But every time, something came up. A new piece of actionable intel, another terrorist cell located . . . I didn't come home. A couple years, I missed calling."

"I'm sure he understood," Jax said.

"I didn't think he cared, to be honest," Steve said. "Until Chin told me that he never missed my football games. That he was proud of me. Then I realized that . . . it would have meant a lot to him, for me to come home. Today, coming into the house, all decorated . . . it made me feel losing him all over again." He looked at her, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand.

She nodded. "Billy would have come from New York," she said. "He would have put in vacation and come, for the holidays, maybe even planned to stay to see the babies. We would have picked him up at the airport, made him feel a little awkward with a lei, and brought him here. And he would have stayed in the Airstream. And he would have come again next year, and the babies would . . . "

"I know," Steve said, around the lump in his throat. He could picture it, too. Billy and his father both playing with the babies. He tugged on Jax's hand. "Come'ere," he murmured.

She slipped into his lap and he wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. They heard the back door thud again, and Steve didn't even bother to look around.

"Danny?" Jax mumbled.

"Danny," Steve chuckled.

Danny sat down in the chair that Jax had just left. "Ghosts of Christmas past and future?" he said quietly.

"Yeah," Steve said. He brushed hastily at his eyes.

"Don't," Danny said quietly. "Have you learned nothing? Pain isn't biodegradable. You bury it - it doesn't decompose."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, and then Danny continued. "Holidays are hard. It's like, you've got your every day standard of okay to live up to, which is hard enough. But then, the holidays, man, you've got this unrealistic expectation of merry and bright, and then you've got all this pain that you carry around, and it's just - the gap is just this huge, yawning chasm, you know?"

"Yawning chasm," Jax whispered against Steve's neck. "We gonna regret getting him another word-a-day calendar?"

"I wish I'd met your dad, Steve," Danny said. "And I wish Billy was here, babe. But Steve, I'm glad that I met you. Regret the circumstances, but damn, I'm glad that you pulled a gun on me and then barged into my apartment. Five-O changed my life. And Jax, I'm glad you're not spending any more Christmases alone in that hell-hole of a walkup you called home in New York."

"It was a cute apartment," Jax protested.

"You should have seen Danny's first apartment here," Steve said. "And the second. Want to talk about hell-hole?"

"Well, sure, because it's a million degrees on this rock," Danny said. "But it's home. We're home for Christmas."

Steve's arms tightened around Jax, and he kissed the top of her head. "We are home for Christmas, Danny, you're right. And we're glad you'll all be here tomorrow."

"For a couple of snarly lone-wolf types, the two of yous do seem to enjoy hosting the gatherings," Danny grumbled.

Jax shifted in Steve's arms so she could face Danny. "You been talking to Bridgett," she stated.

"Maybe," Danny said, laughing.

"Thanks, Danny," Steve said quietly. "Thanks for stopping by. Your instincts . . . yeah. You really do have good instincts."

"I do, I absolutely do," Danny said. "I also have a Camaro, which unfortunately does not have trunk space for my precious daughter's Christmas gift. So I was hoping that Uncle Steve would let me borrow his ridiculously overcompensating pickup truck?"

Steve laughed as he and Jax untangled themselves to stand and head toward the house.

"Told you before, Danny," Jax said, a wicked glint in her eye, "it's not an overcompensation."

"You were stoned on pain medication when you said that," Danny said, waving his hands. "Why? Why would you say something like that stone cold sober? I hate you, I hate you so much."

"You love me, Danny," Jax said, throwing her arms around him. "Merry Christmas Eve eve. Let's go get Gracie's present."

#*#*#*#*#

Christmas Eve dawned, overcast and breezy. Jax stretched and snuggled back against Steve.

"Good morning," he murmured, his lips brushing the back of her neck.

She sighed and nodded sleepily. "You sleep?" she asked.

"I did," he said. "You?"

"Yeah. It's a Christmas miracle," she mumbled, giggling.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. "You're sure? You're okay?"

"I am," she said firmly. "We have a big day, sailor. We have our entire, crazy, wonderful extended family coming over this evening. I have a full day planned in the kitchen."

"What are my orders, ma'am?" he teased, trailing his fingers over her hip.

"Cease and desist, or I'll never get the turkey in the oven on time," she said. "And stay out of my way. Work on the Airstream set-up."

"Aye, aye, McGarrett," he sighed.

#*#*#*#*#

The evening was proclaimed a huge success by everyone. They all crowded around Chin's iPad for a Facetime chat with Grover, then scattered around the house, lanai, and yard with plates laden with food.

"Commander McGarrett," Max said, nodding up at Steve. "Thank you for including me, once again, in your holiday festivities."

"Of course, Max," Steve said. "I know Hanukkah ended on the twentieth this year. Things were . . ."

"Quite hectic for your team," Max said, beaming. "But thank you, I had a good Hanukkah. Perhaps next year, you will be able to join me for one of the evenings."

"It would be a true honor to light a candle with you, Max," Jax said, joining the two. She slipped her arm around Steve's waist.

"Have you given any thought to any religious training for your children?" Max asked.

Steve and Jax looked at each other, their eyes wide.

"Um, no?" Jax said, hesitantly.

"Yeah, not so much," Steve agreed.

Max spread his arms wide. "The babies will be surrounded with love. What else matters, really?"

#*#*#*#*#

They cleared away the last of the mess shortly before midnight, and Steve playfully tugged Jax's hand until she stood under the bunch of mistletoe.

"This spot saw a lot of action tonight," Jax said, grinning up at him.

"It's about to see a lot more," Steve said, as he bent and kissed her gently. "I missed Mary being here but . . . on the other hand . . . she isn't here . . ."

"We have the house to ourselves?" Jax whispered.

"Not for long," Steve said, smiling. He splayed his hand over her stomach. "About five weeks, give or take?"

"Better make the most of it then," Jax said solemnly, her eyes sparkling in the lights from the tree."

#*#*#*#*#

Oh, readers. Today was a really hard day, wrapping up a really hard year. My beloved 16 yo Maine Coone crossed over the Rainbow Bridge today. He went peacefully, with all of his people holding him. Rest in peace, sweet boy, and know that your exploits will be forever immortalized in Pupule.

A heartfelt THANK YOU for your kind words and reviews as we wind down this installment. The promised holiday chapter was not nearly what I wanted it to be, but going ahead felt like the right thing to do. Christmas day adventures for the team may be recounted, in the break room, after they return from their well-earned days off.