A/N: Once again, I want to thank everyone for continuing to be interested in the story of Sam Devereaux. I am trying to get into a better pattern of writing more consistently and therefore posting a little more frequently.
So, here is the point in the story where my character, Sam, officially "joins" the world of 5-0. My vision for this story not only includes original content/cases/characters/etc., but also intertwines them with the existing canon of the show. As such, you will begin to see some story lines change to fit where I am taking Sam's current life and filling in her back story. I have noticed that my original concept is already started to change a bit. I hope to continue to entertain you with the world I am building.
Again, thank you for your support and kind words. :)
Now - here's when Sam and Steve collide.
BACK IN BLACK
As they started the drive back to the house, Sam finally felt herself starting to calm down, finally compartmentalizing as she had been taught. Her breathing under control, her heart rate slower, Sam took a deep breath and watched the beautiful scenery of the island go by. She also started formulating a plan on what she needed to do moving forward.
Mae glanced over at her passenger. She knew Sam was up to something in that crazy brain of hers. Hoping to distract her a little longer, hoping she could stop 'crazy' from happening the minute they stepped over the threshold, Mae pondered what she could say to catch Sam off guard. Throw her a little. So, she went for the jugular.
"He looked damn good," Mae said, with a little growl in her voice.
Sam barked out a laugh that ended up in a snort, causing both women to bust out laughing. "Yeah. Yeah, he did," Sam conceded, quietly. "He definitely filled out those dress blues nicely."
"I noticed you guys didn't talk much," she fished.
"Nah. It's okay. I did what I came to do," Sam replied. The hint of sadness in her voice was different than Mae had heard the past few days. This sadness had nothing to do with John and everything to do with Steve. Mae had been there for the four years between the deaths of the Devereauxs and Doris MacGarrett. She had seen what an utter handful Sam and Steve had been together, but they were also so loyal to each other, always looking out for each other, always there when the other needed it. Mae knew how heartbroken Sam had been when Steve left, when John sent him away. To Mae, it seemed as if it was a loss Sam never truly got over.
Seeing Sam slip back into a melancholy she was scared would start to consume her, Mae went for another distraction. "How about we stop at Kimo's for lunch? I think we could use the sustenance," Mae said.
"Sure, Mae, that sounds good," Sam responded with a small smile.
After lunch at their favorite little café, Mae suggested taking a walk along the beach, once again stalling for time to get Sam's frame of mind straight. "Mae, do I really look like I'm in beach walking attire?" Sam asked with a lopsided grin, gesturing to the rather warm dress uniform she was still wearing. Mae acquiesced.
"Ah, you're right. Sorry. I imagine you're a little itchy and probably about to keel over from the heat stroke," Mae joked.
"Um, yep, pretty accurate," Sam chuckled. They made their way to the car and headed for home.
Sam once again couldn't keep her eyes off the house next door as they passed. She had come up with a few ideas while at lunch, in between Mae's constant barrage of stories of old family friends. Sam knew Mae was trying to distract her. Sam also knew that Mae knew it wasn't going to work but she was going to try anyways. Just another reason Sam loved and revered her Aunt Mae. The woman didn't know when to quit, when to take no for an answer and she absolutely refused to give up, no matter what. I guess that's where I get it from, Sam thought with a smile.
Once inside the house, Sam made her way upstairs, making excuses about wanting to get changed and rest. Mae knew better but she was also keenly aware of the fact that not one single thing she said or did was going to change Sam's mind. Mae just hoped she didn't to have arrange to have bail money at the ready before the afternoon was over.
"Well sweetie, if you're going to lie down for a bit, I think I'm going to make some tea and follow suit, if you don't mind. I'm sure if you can't rest, you'll find something…constructive to do."
Sam snickered. Mae Devereaux would have made a good agent. Hmm, maybe she had been at some point, given all the travelling she did when Sam was young. I never thought of running her through any databases, Sam thought, only half-jokingly. But, for the moment, she simply said, "I understand. It's been a rough morning. Get some rest."
Mae smiled at her and went into the kitchen, shaking her head and sighing.
Sam climbed the stairs to her room and peeled off the blazing hot uniform. Pulling her hair out of the tight, headache-inducing French twist, she put it back into a ponytail. After throwing on a black ensemble of a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, she changed into her favorite pair of matching boots. Back in black, Sam thought as she looked in the mirror. For some reason, Sam always felt all black attire like this equaled better spying. Silly, she knew, but all agents have their quirks, superstitions, and 'things'. Black had always been her go to color-of-choice when it came to her wardrobe. But after running an inventory of what she needed through her head, she changed her mind and stripped off the jeans for a more practical pair of cargo pants. She loaded them up with her lock picks, phone for photos, a small flashlight, and she grabbed her badge just to be safe. Sliding her Glock into the back of her waistband, pulling her t-shirt over the outline of the gun, she waited until she heard Mae close her door before she left her own room. Sam quietly went downstairs and walked into the oversized pantry, pulling out a few pairs of gloves. Mae loved to cook and ate her steak as bloody as the next guy, but she was completely grossed out by actually having to touch raw meat. Sam said a silent thanks that she always had a bulk supply of food grade, nitrile gloves stashed away. They were nearly identical to the black latex gloves she had used at crime scenes over the years.
Sam walked out the back French doors, making a bee line for the edge of the fence that separated the Devereaux property from the McGarrett's. Sam stuck her head around and made sure the yard was empty and quietly made her way along the fence line, ducking under the police tape on the lanai and knelt at the back door, pulling on the gloves. She made quick work of picking the lock, silently stepping into the home she knew like the back of her hand. After all, she had basically grown up in this house, spending just as much time there as her own.
Taking a deep breath, Sam advanced into the den. A sob stuck in her throat as she stood in the space where John, the man who had saved her life, had lost his in the one of the ugliest, most violent of ways. She felt cold standing there, as if with his death, the warmth that had always wrapped itself around her had died, too. What had once been her safe space, now, wasn't. Victor Hesse took that away. It was no more evident than the moment Sam's eyes settled on the wall. Like a punch to the gut, a wave of nausea swept over Sam as she stared at the blood. John's blood. As the panic attack Chin had helped her stave off earlier began to roar to life again, with a vengeance, she was spared by a noise coming from the garage. Like a flip of a switch, Sam was back in complete control of her faculties. She yanked off her gloves, stuffed them in her pocket and grabbed her Glock out of her waistband.
Sam quietly released the safety on the gun and stealthily made her way to the garage door. Listening carefully, it sounded as though whoever was in the garage was around the Marquis. She heard the rustle of the car cover being removed. Man, John loved that car. She had spent hours with him in the garage after Munich. John had dragged her into the project, believing that somehow, some way, it would help Sam's healing begin. And as usual, John had been right. They continued to work on the car when Sam would come home for holidays or vacations from LA, hoping they would be able to take it out at some point.
Shaking the newest flood of memories from her mind to focus on the intruder on the other side of the door, Sam carefully turned the knob. Praying the door wouldn't squeak and give away the element of surprise, she slowly swept her eyes over the space. While the afternoon sunlight poured through the small window on the opposite wall, the garage was still dimly lit. It took a second for her eyes to focus and once they did, she located the figure of a man crouching down by the work bench. He had his back to her. Moving in on the target, she was taken by surprise when the he swung around, grabbed her and in one swift move, had pinned her face first against the Marquis. Sam countered just as fast and reversed the pin, sticking the muzzle of her gun between the intruder's eyes before recognition set in.
"Steve! You ass!" Sam growled.
The surprise was evident on Steve's face. But then, for a second, it looked as though…he was having fun. And sure enough, he gave her his best Cheshire cat grin.
"Good way to get yourself shot, you idiot," Sam said haughtily as she placed her gun back in her waistband.
"Um, this is my father's house, so good way to get yourself shot," Steve said as he showed her the gun in his hand. "How the hell did you get in here?"
Sam bit the corner of her lip, as she always did when she got caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar. Pondering how he would react, she just stuck her right hand into her pocket and held up her lock picks. Steve's eyebrow shot up. Sam rolled her eyes. "As I was planning on technically breaking and entering an active crime scene, I figured why implicate Mae by asking for her keys." Steve looked at her strangely for a brief instant when she said Mae had keys to his father's house. Then the SEAL mask was back in place.
The pair just stared at each other for a minute. It wasn't awkward, as Sam predicted it would be. More, bittersweet, she thought. Sam's gaze softened and without thinking, grabbed the front of Steve's shirt and pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck. She was slightly surprised when, without hesitation, Steve wrapped his muscular arms around her torso and hugged her back. Tightly.
"I'm so sorry." Sam whispered, stroking the back of his head.
"Me too."
They held on for another moment before breaking the embrace, but remaining in each other's personal space. They just looked at each other for another moment before Sam broke the silence and said, "We need to talk."
"I know it's been a long time, and with the way we left things…I wanted to reach out, Sam, really I did. It's just…" Steve struggled to find the right words.
"Steve," she interrupted, placing her fingers on his lips. It was an innocent gesture that turned into an intimate moment between them neither had been expecting. Sam swallowed hard before removing her hand from his mouth, continuing. "Yeah, I want to talk about that, too, but there are way more pressing matters we need to address. First…"
"Sam, I swear to you, Mae is safe here." Steve knew Mae was the only family Sam had left and he would protect that with his life. In hopes of reassuring her, he continued. "I will personally see to it that she is watched and protected. But I promise you, this will not touch her."
Sam smiled sadly at Steve. He really had no idea, did he? Better than anyone, Sam knew he couldn't promise that. "So, you're looking me in the eyes and telling me that Mae is safe?"
"Yes."
"From Victor Hesse?" Steve's eyes widened slightly at Sam's question, particularly the emphasis on Hesse's name. She continued, softly. "Yeah, I know it was Victor Hesse." Tears threatened yet again.
Sam could see in his eyes that he was fighting an internal war. What was it, she wondered as he started to speak. "You know about Hesse?"
"Yeah, Blue, I know about Hesse. I know it all," Sam confessed. Steve's reaction to her childhood nickname for him quickly transformed from playful into one of surprise and something she didn't quite recognize. Perhaps it was fear.
"You know it all, Red? Really? How could you possibly know it all?"
"Didn't you ever wonder what happened to me?" Sam meant for it to be a segue into a brief explanation of her life in intelligence. But it was also a sad query – had he ever thought about her? About them? Had he missed her, had he tried to contact her, had he even wanted to? Sam would have settled for anything at this point, which if she was honest, made her feel like a silly little girl. So, she was taken by complete surprise at his answer.
"Every day, Sam. Every, single day." Steve placed his right hand on the side of her face. The two briefly got lost in each other's eyes. Sam's were full of surprise and bittersweet pain at Steve's confession while Steve's were filled with sorrow. They had lost so much at such a young age, most of all they had lost each other. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip as he leaned down…
"Hands up, don't move!"
Within the blink of an eye, Steve, Sam and some blonde ha'ole had drawn their weapons on each other and the two men engaged in a shouting match. Sam just stared at Steve when she realized he had flipped her around behind him, in protection mode.
"Boys. Boys! HEY!" Sam yelled. Silence. "Hmm, ooh, thought. Why don't we all show each other our badges and clear this right up?" The two men looked at her with a look that was a cross between 'she's grown a 2nd head' and 'that makes sense'. Sam loudly whispered in Steve's ear. "And if you ever pull the soccer mom arm slash women & children behind the big bad SEAL move on me again, I will throat punch you." Steve gave her a dirty look and rolled his eyes.
The two men went on to argue that neither were putting their gun down. Sam rolled her eyes, but the truth was, she wasn't putting her gun down either.
Finally agreeing to pull out IDs on the count of three, everyone reached for their credentials. "One. Two. Three." The blonde was Detective Daniel Williams, Honolulu Police Department. Aha, Sam thought. So, this was the guy she planned on giving a hard time after his refusal to give into her request for some interagency cooperation. Huh, she thought. Not bad.
"Lieutenant Devereaux? We spoke the other day, right?" Danny asked. Steve shot her a look, which she ignored.
"Yes, Detective Williams. You were less than inclined to, how shall I say, throw me a bone," Sam replied playfully. Danny turned his attention to Steve.
"Listen, I'm really sorry about your father, but you can't be here right now," Danny said to Steve. While they exchanged a few barbs, Sam studied Detective Williams. Jersey accent. Tie. Too much hair product. She smiled inwardly, thinking how fun he would be to tease and mess with. He seemed like the kind of cop she would want on her side. She got a good vibe from him, despite their initial interaction and the current state of affairs. And he was pretty cute, too. Before she could get any further with her assessment of the cute cop, Steve grabbed John's red tool box from the work bench with one hand and Sam's hand with his other.
"Leave the box or get arrested," Danny said.
"All right," Steve said. "Gonna call for backup?"
"An ambulance," Danny replied. Sam had to duck her head to hide her snicker. She was surprised when Steve put the box down on the back of the Marquis and looked at her. She couldn't read the look on his face. The way he was staring into her eyes, it was as though he was trying to read her, figure out what she was thinking. There was a brief moment that passed between them before he spoke.
"Wanna find some trouble, Red?" Steve asked her with a twinkle in his eyes and an incredibly sexy lopsided grin on his face.
"With you, Blue? Hell yeah," Sam instantly replied. She couldn't help but smirk. Yet another little back-and-forth thing they used to say to each other as kids. Sam shook her head slightly. Feelings – lots and lots of feelings – were happening. They were settling into their old verbal sparring in less than five minutes, despite being separated for nearly two decades. How was that possible, Sam wondered. Yet, it felt good, it felt right. It also felt like, all of a sudden, Sam knew her world was going to turn upside down. Again. She resumed chewing on the left corner of her lip, unsure of what direction this was going to take her.
Before Sam or Danny knew what was happening, Steve was on the phone with Governor Pat Jameson. Looking into Sam's eyes, Steve said, "Governor, I'll take the job. No, let's just say I found some things that changed my mind."
"Take the job?" Sam mouthed at him, which simply elicited a wink. Next thing she knows, she's listening to him take an oath. What the hell is going on, she thought. Steve didn't break eye contact with her until he hung up the phone and once again grabbed the tool box. And Sam's hand.
"Now it's my crime scene." And with that, Steve pulled Sam through the door. She had the courtesy to at least shrug in empathy and throw a look of apology at Danny, who was standing there with his jaw wide open. Sam simply stared at the back of Steve's head as he dragged her out of his father's house.