Danny shook his head ruefully and shuffled from the sofa into the hallway. He'd been up the stairs and in Steve's room three times. In two hours. He'd made the same trek from the sofa to Riley's guest room twice in the same time span.

They'd never formalized it as a plan; they never really spoke of it – though Danny was sure that Kono and Chin took it as a given. When an op went bad, when one of them – usually Steve – came out worse for the wear on the other side, no one spent the first night . . . or several . . . home alone. So this was far from the first time that Danny had been on concussion check and nightmare duty with the SEAL. Steve may well be a finely honed fighting machine, but Danny saw the very human side of him during the long nights interrupted by nightmares and pain. Tonight, Steve had reluctantly agreed to take one of the Darvocet tablets prescribed by Malia. Danny knew that the pain would be dulled and allow his body to relax; but with it, the iron control that Steve kept over his emotions during the day would be loosened.

Danny had expected a rough night and hadn't been surprised when both Steve and Riley had woken him with muffled shouts. He could only imagine what horrors were revisiting them as they tried to sleep; he'd seen the extent of Steve's injuries in the hospital and knew that he had endured physical and mental torture at the hands of WoFat. Riley's injuries apparently weren't as severe, but still, they were of the same sort, and she was so young . . . he wasn't sure which was more gut-wrenching: Steve's harsh cries or Riley's quieter whimpers. And then there were the moments when, in what he could only hope was true and restful sleep, one of them would try to turn and gasp in pain as their battered ribs and burned skin protested.

The problem was, neither of them seemed to be able to wake themselves up, but were apparently trapped in the horror of reliving their experiences in their sleep. Danny couldn't bear the thought of it, so he'd dutifully trotted to their respective bedsides to wake them. During his first year as Steve's partner, he'd attempted to wake Steve from a nightmare and nearly been strangled to death; in subsequent months he'd learned how to approach an incoherent SEAL without risking his life: make non-threatening noise (thus the shuffling) and call his name. He'd made the mistake of underestimating Riley, and discovered that she had a mean right hook, even in her sleep: only his experience with Steve had helped him avoid a nasty blow.

This is how Danny found himself standing at the foot of the stairs at 3 am, having been yet again roused out of his own fitful rest by sounds of distress from both directions. At the same time.

"This," he muttered to himself, "is unacceptable."

Fearful that Steve was risking further injury with his increasingly violent tossing and turning, Danny headed up the stairs first.

"Hey, babe," he called out softly, waiting for any indication of response. "Hey, it's Danny. Steve, you're okay. You're home."

He could tell the instant that Steve returned to awareness: the hitched gasp, the shuddering breath, the sigh of relief, as he reoriented himself to time and place.

"Danny," Steve rasped out, "sorry, man. I'm okay."

"Oh, my friend, you are miles and miles away from okay," Danny responded. "Neither of you are okay and no one is getting much rest. Come on, buddy, we're going to try something different."

Danny walked over to the bed and gently but firmly took Steve by the shoulders and helped him sit up. "You, super SEAL, are coming downstairs and I'm getting you settled in the recliner. You keep thrashing around and aggravating those ribs."

Steve nodded. "Okay, that sounds good. Let me hit the head."

While Steve was otherwise engaged, Danny went to grab his pillow and blanket, shaking his head when he discovered them sweat-soaked. There would be laundry in the morning. He grabbed a clean pillow and blanket from Steve's closet; he'd been through this routine enough to know exactly where to find clean linens.

Steve was walking stiffly toward the stairs, his arm bracing his most damaged side.

"You good, Steve?" Danny asked.

"Yeah, I got it." Steve made his way down the stairs painfully and slowing, pausing at the bottom when he heard Riley calling out his name softly in her sleep.

"Go," Danny indicated toward the recliner. "I'll get her."

"Danny." Steve said an entire paragraph in his name: it was thank you, and you're the best partner, and I'm sorry I've put you through this – again; and most of all, it was pain and regret for yet another innocent person caught in the middle of this waking nightmare.

"I know, babe, I know."

Steve stood in the hall and watched as Danny went into the open door of the guest room. He noticed that Danny approached cautiously and grinned, wondering if it was habit or something learned from recent experience.

"Riley," Danny called out softly. "Hey, sweetheart, it's Danny. It's okay, you're safe. You're at Steve's house, remember?"

"Danny?" Riley was clearly confused. "Where's Frank?"

Danny sighed. Steve could tell this was not the first time they'd been through this.

"Wait, they're hurting him . . . no, make them stop!" Riley struggled against her tangled covers, sharp cries of pain escaping as she twisted her fractured ribs.

Steve was past Danny in two long strides. Mindless of his own injuries, he wrapped Riley gently in his arms, his hand cradling her head to his shoulder.

"I'm okay, Riley," he murmured into her ear. "I'm right here. He's not hurting me anymore, and he's not hurting you anymore, either, okay? We're safe. I've got you."

He felt Riley nodding, her hands clutching tightly into the fabric of his t-shirt. He realized that he could barely feel her breathing, as if she were holding her breath.

"Riley, hey, breathe," he said. Danny looked alarmed, and pulled his phone out, ready to make a call at a split second's notice.

Steve relaxed his hold on Riley and gently tried to push her back so he could look at her, but she kept her grip on him and kept her face pressed into the crook of his neck.

"I'm okay, just . . . I'm okay," she muttered. Steve realized then what was happening – she was fighting for control; fighting with every fiber of her being, and terrified to even take a breath for fear that she would lose her grip on her emotions. It was how he had spent much of his adult life, starting with the day the uniformed officer had arrived to tell him that his mother had been killed in a car accident.

Danny read the situation quickly as well, and shook his head affectionately at the two of them. He'd long held the opinion that Steve's version of control was highly, highly overrated, and he had no intention of Riley attempting such behavior, not on his watch.

Besides, Riley was turning just a bit blue, and Steve couldn't possibly hold this position much longer with his injured ribs.

Remembering Malia's advice to follow his instincts, Danny sat down next to Riley on the edge of the bed, and started rubbing soothing circles on her shoulders.

"Hey, babe, you're gonna need to let go of the SuperSEAL just a bit – I don't think his ribs can take much more of this," Danny said softly.

Steve frowned in protest, but Danny gave him one of his "I've-got-this" glances.

Riley immediately let go of her grip on Steve's t-shirt and pressed her hands to her eyes instead. "Sorry!" she muttered.

"No, you've nothing to apologize for," Danny assured her, "I've just got my hands full with the both of you, don't want anyone getting worse instead of better. And Riley, sweetheart, you have got to breathe. You're going to pass out."

She shook her head minutely and continued to take very short, very shallow breaths.

"Riley, you're hyperventilating, and that's not unusual after what you've been through, okay?" Steve tried. "Can you try to slow down your breathing?"

Riley held her breath again, and Danny rolled his eyes at Steve. "Not helping," he mouthed.

Danny looked sternly at Steve. "Can you make it to the recliner without keeling over on me?"

Steve nodded.

"Okay. Go. I'm right behind you." And with that, Danny scooped Riley up in his arms and followed Steve into the living room. As Steve painfully lowered himself into the chair, Danny sat down on the sofa with Riley. He gently took her face in his hands.

"Riley, I know what you're trying to do. You need to stop worrying about staying in control, about being whatever it is you think you're expected to be. Okay? I want you to take a good, deep breath for me. Right now." Danny had slipped into what Steve thought of as his "dealing-with-a-stubborn-Grace" tone.

Riley blinked in surprise and then tried to comply. She took in a deep shuddering breath, but then appeared to get stuck on how to release it. She gave a sort of hiccup, and would have hidden her face in her hands again, had Danny not gently grabbed both of her hands in one of his. His other hand went to brush the hair out of her face, and tilt her head to maintain eye contact with him.

"Okay, it's okay, you're good. You're okay. Just breathe."

Riley took in another breath and exhaled in a sob. Danny gently kept her focused on him.

"Riley, it's okay. Let go. Breathe."

Danny held her as she fell apart in heart-wrenching sobs, stroking her hair and murmuring softly in her ear. Steve felt completely helpless, and entirely impressed with Danny.

As she quieted a bit and regained control of her breathing, Danny asked, "What were the worst nightmares about, sweetheart?"

"I heard them. Over and over again . . . I saw them bring him in, and then I heard them beating him . . . and I yelled and yelled for them to stop, to come back to me, but no one would listen. And I heard WoFat and I heard that damn cattle prod, and I heard him scream and I knew . . . I knew WoFat was going to not stop until he had killed him. And if I had known who Shelburne was, I would have told them. I would have, to make them stop. And then I heard that gunshot and I thought . . . " Riley broke off with another sob.

"You thought that WoFat had killed Steve?" Danny prompted.

Riley nodded. "And I thought, it was my fault. If I had known what he wanted . . . but I'm not supposed to give out information, Joe said, he warned me . . . but I would have, if I had known, and then that would have been my fault . . ." Her words were coming out in a rush.

"Shh," Danny soothed, "but, you didn't know, so there was absolutely nothing you could have done; and, you didn't know, so you didn't give out any information that you shouldn't have – and we are going to so get into that tomorrow but not tonight – so it's okay, sweetheart. You were in an impossible situation and you couldn't do anything."

Riley shook her head. "If I had fought harder, maybe, or I could have slipped out of the chair, or something. I just sat there and let them . . . I could hear them, Danny, don't you understand? I could hear all of it . . . "

"What, you think you could have somehow . . . Riley, are you blaming yourself for not stopping WoFat from torturing Steve?" Danny asked, incredulous.

"Yes, of course," Riley whispered – as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Danny and Steve exchanged "I've-got-nothing" glances.

"Okay," Danny said, "well, that is . . . wow, okay, Riley, you are a college student, I'm guessing barely twenty if that, and Steve is a highly trained, uncommonly capable United States Naval Officer, part of the SEALs, and leader of an elite law enforcement task force. I think, sweetheart, that you need to cut yourself a little slack, okay?"

Riley nodded dubiously. Danny could see that she was past the point of exhaustion, and he gently pulled her feet out and pressed her shoulders down onto the sofa. He tucked the soft throw around her and stroked her cheek gently. "Close your eyes, sleep for a little bit, okay? We are right here."

She didn't even respond; she was asleep before he finished speaking.

Steve jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen and carefully stood up and walked in.

Grabbing a glass of water, Steve took a few gulps. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, literally speechless.

"Danny, this is seriously messed up. Every time she shows anxiety or fear – "

"Same thing, Steve. Remarkably and completely unconcerned about her own ordeal. Calling out for them to stop hurting you."

"So, Malia said that as the benzos wore off, she would experience a more typical level of anxiety."

"Yeah, and so far, her primary source of anxiety is . . . well, you. She hasn't said one thing – awake or in her sleep – about being kidnapped, drugged, beaten, electrocuted, restrained. That can't be normal."

Steve sighed. "It is for a SEAL."

"You're not suggesting . . . what are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting she's having exactly the reaction that I would have in her place: confident in my own ability to withstand torture, unable to forgive myself for allowing it to happen to someone else. And I'm suggesting that she is either having an almost psychotic and completely atypical reaction to what's happened, or there is way more to her than meets the eye, because she's compartmentalizing at a scary good level, and assuming responsibility for my safety and well-being in that situation implies that under some circumstances, she has reason to think that she could have intervened successfully."

Realization dawned on Danny.

"Joe White," he said.

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "If he wasn't part of the equation, I'd assume that with the drugs and delayed stress response, she's having an understandable reaction to hearing someone else being tortured and feeling helpless."

"Which is horrific, and for some personalities, more traumatizing than physical pain," Danny continued.

"Exactly. But factor in Joe White . . . Danny, she apparently has some reason to think that she could have actually broken out of there and rescued me from WoFat, and she's second-guessing as to why she wasn't able to do that. "

"Oh, shit," Danny replied, succinctly.

"No kidding."

Steve swayed a bit.

"Whoa there, partner," Danny reached out a steadying hand. "Okay, we definitely have to get some answers but first, you need to go down, and then the sun needs to come up, and in that order." Danny slipped easily back into his parenting persona. "Into the recliner with you, we've got Riley comfy on the sofa, and I am going to crash right here on this loveseat – don't even with the short jokes, Steven, I am in no mood. Since Riley is waking up anxious about you, she'll feel better if she sees you when her eyes pop open. You, my friend, will rest better if you're not thrashing around on those broken ribs. Everyone wins and maybe I can sleep for more than ten minutes at a time. This is worse than the Great Flu Incident the year Grace was in first grade."

Steve was too tired and too amused to argue; besides, Danny's plan had merit. Strategically, even.

The rest of the night passed a bit more smoothly.

As the drugs wore off, Riley was able to wake up more easily on her own, and as Danny had predicted, was much less anxious being able to see Steve, alive and relatively in one piece.

Steve refused additional pain medication, with an "are you kidding me?" to Danny, but rested more comfortably without tossing and turning.

Content that the worst was over, Danny shuffled down to Mary's room just as the first rays of sunrise warmed the house. He knew that Steve would be fully awake soon, and want some space and sense of control, without Danny hovering over him.

Catherine let herself into the house quietly, gently placing her suitcase by the door and her keys silently onto the table. She surveyed the normally tidy living room and glancing into the dining area. Pillows and blankets were tossed haphazardly around the sofas and chairs. Maps, charts, and devices appeared to have taken over the dining room table, which served primarily as Steve's home office most of the time, anyway, since his discovery of that damnable Champs box.

A soft sound drew her attention back to the sofa, and she realized someone was curled up there sleeping. Danny had given her only the barest of information, but enough for her to know that this must be the young woman they had pulled out of North Korea along with Steve.

Not wanting to wake or startle her, Catherine moved quietly toward the stairs, smiling fondly at the sound of Danny's gentle snoring coming from Mary's room. God bless him, he had to be exhausted.

The door to Steve's bedroom was closed, and Catherine knew better than to risk startling a post-mission SEAL. She settled into a comfy chair on the landing. When she heard the shower stop running, she sent him a text.

Hey, sailor.

Cath. You're here?

Just outside your door.

Steve opened the door, hair still wet, and wearing one of his oldest, softest pair of cut-off Navy sweatpants. He looked startled to see Catherine on the landing.

"Oh," he said, smiling, "this door."

Catherine stood, taking in the burn marks scattered across the violent bruising. She walked to him slowly, her graceful fingers reaching up to trace over the steri-strips holding together the cut over his eyebrow. His hands wrapped around her waist and he pulled her against him, suddenly desperate to hold her. She gently pulled his head down to her shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.

"Steve," she whispered, "you're home."

"You came," he whispered back.

"Of course. I would have come to North Korea if I could have."

"Glad you didn't. You can't risk your career for me."

Catherine snorted. "I risk my career for you every time I retask a military satellite without permission."

"You can't risk your life for me. This has to stop . . . I'm hurting people; good people, who care about me, and who don't deserve –"

"Stop. Steve, you deserve to have people in your life who love you. When will you let yourself believe that?"

He sighed, hands tangling in her hair, breathing in the scent of her rather than responding, because he had no idea how to answer that question. She held him as tightly as she dared, until she accidentally grazed too closely to one of the burn marks, and he flinched.

"Okay, sailor, let's get those burns medicated and covered, get you dressed, and get some coffee, yeah?" she asked, smiling up at him.

Steve gently framed her face in his hands, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you, Catherine. I'm not even going to pretend that I didn't need you to be here."

By the time they reached the kitchen, Riley had disappeared into the guest shower, and Danny was pouring coffee.

"C'mere, you," he said to Catherine, holding his arms out for a hug.

"Thank you for calling me, Danny," she said. "Now, someone want to tell me what on earth is going on?"

"Who's asking," Danny replied, "Catherine, the not-girlfriend, or Lieutenant Rollins, Naval Intelligence?"

"For right now, standing in the kitchen? Catherine the . . . not-girlfriend – is that what Steve calls me? I don't know if I'm offended or relieved."

"That's what Danny calls you, and okay, if this is off the record, I'll tell you everything. Catherine, I'm serious, I don't want you jeopardizing your career," Steve explained.

"That ship's sailed; may as well tell me everything. And if I can help, officially or otherwise, I will," she stated resolutely.

"Okay, this is what we know: Riley Patterson was being held in the same compound where Jenna delivered me to WoFat, in what she thought was an exchange for her fiancé, Josh. Turns out he was long dead. Riley had arrived before me, though. WoFat was in the process of questioning her when I was brought in."

"Questioning her?" Cath interrupted.

Anger flashed in Steve's eyes. "Yeah, like he questioned me: beating, a damn cattle prod. She had been kidnapped, starved, and drugged first, though. He asked one thing of both of us: the identity of a code name, Shelburne. I'm not even sure if he knows if it's a person or a location."

"And it means nothing to you?"

"It was written on a map in my dad's toolbox. I have no idea what it means – only that it's connected to him in some way, and that WoFat is desperate for answers."

"And Riley? Anything?"

"She says no – says that she would have gladly given up the information if she had known it. She, um . . . well, apparently she had more trouble with overhearing WoFat in the room with me than in dealing with her own ordeal ."

Catherine paused and poured herself and Steve another cup of coffee.

"Unusual reaction, from a civilian," she commented.

"Yeah, well unusual doesn't begin to cover it," Danny said. "Turns out Joe White has been leading Riley around the globe, ostensibly as part of WITSEC."

"Ostensibly, Danny?" Steve said.

"It's a perfectly appropriate word," he retorted.

"Wait, no way is Joe part of WITSEC," Catherine protested. "The Navy does not involve itself in civilian witness protection."

"We know that," Steve explained, "but Riley didn't. Apparently she's had no reason to doubt it before. I think her run-in with WoFat has her questioning a lot of things."

"No shit," Riley said, entering the kitchen.

Danny, still following his parenting instincts, went and wrapped Riley in a gentle hug; tousling her damp hair. He was pleased that she didn't flinch or pull away from him.

"Riley," Danny said, "meet Lieutenant Catherine Rollins. Cath, this is Riley Patterson. She's a little something extra we picked up on our vacation to North Korea."

Riley gratefully accepted the cup of coffee that Catherine offered her. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

"You okay?" Steve asked her, brushing a finger over the line of steri-strips that resembled his own. "These are gonna need to be replaced."

"Yeah, I'm good," she responded. "What's the plan? Where do we start?"

"You're sure you're up for this?" Danny asked. "Sweetheart, we have no idea where the answers are going to lead."

"Look, Danny, whoever this WoFat character is, he's not going to stop until he finds this Shelburne. I don't intend to sit around waiting for him to send someone to knock me over the head again."

Steve nodded. "Well, then let's gear up and head to HQ."

"Excellent," Riley said, "get me to a good computer."

Danny, Catherine, and Steve all turned to look at her.

"Oh," she said. "I didn't mention? My scholarship to the University of Tokyo? Computer Forensics."

Twenty minutes later, the four were heading out the door. Steve and Riley moved stiffly but with purpose. Danny still looked a little rough around the edges but simply filled a large thermos with coffee and smiled tiredly at Catherine's gentle suggestion that he stay and get more sleep.

"There's a sofa in my office, Catherine, but thanks. I'm curious now to see what young Riley can do."

Undisclosed location

"We're going to have to move you again," Joe spoke quietly into the phone. "Well, he has Riley with him. Yes. It's only a matter of time. Wait for me there; I will be there within twenty-four hours. Be ready."

He tossed the phone into the water and walked away.