"We should be back in four days, Danny," Steve said, as they parted ways at the gates of Hickam. He had applied for official leave from the Naval Reserves, signed off on vacation days from Five-O. However, flying commercial under their own names with assorted weapons and suspicious looking electronic gear would have attracted attention and slowed them down; besides, Riley had no passport. Steve had secured two seats on a military transport leaving out of Hickam. It wouldn't be comfortable, but there wouldn't be any questions asked.

"We'll have to go by Jeep and by foot from the base to the forest," Steve said, as they buckled in for the long, uncomfortable flight. "You're good with that?"

"Steve, I was trained for that, remember? I'm good," she assured him.

About an hour into the flight, Steve noticed Riley rubbing the back of her neck.

"You hurting?" he asked.

"Just stiff and sore. This seat hits, you know, where . . . "

"Lean forward." Riley did as he asked, and Steve placed his cool hand on the still inflamed skin. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a tube of analgesic antibiotic cream that Malia had insisted he carry on his person. He squeezed a bit onto his fingers and gently rubbed her neck.

"Thanks," she sighed in relief.

"Ummhmm," he murmured absently. "Riley? Tell me about your time with Doris . . . Oliva. Please?"

"It was pretty amazing, really. I don't remember much, of course, until I was about preschool age. We lived in this tiny little apartment on the outskirts of Tokyo. I remember her reading to me constantly. She taught me to read and write. We played memory games . . . How many steps from the corner to the market? How many blocks from the apartment to the library? What was the butcher wearing today?"

Steve's hand went still.

"What is it?" Riley asked.

"I don't think those were games, Riley. I think she was training you, preparing you."

"For what?"

"I'm not sure. But if we've attracted the attention of the Special Activities Division because of searching for Joe, and Joe is definitely connected to Doris . . . well, it's starting to sound to me like Doris may have been connected to the division as well. And those memory games were teaching you to be exceptionally observant. She also could have just been teaching you to be able to find your way home if you got lost. Who knows."

"What do you remember about her?" Riley asked.

"She was a much more stereotypical mom, you know? Cookies and milk after school, PTA meetings. She was a stickler for homework, I guess we have that memory in common. She was a very popular teacher. My dad and she . . . they seemed really happy, you know?"

Riley nodded.

"One day, the doorbell rang," Steve continued. "A uniformed officer came and told us that she had been killed. By a drunk driver. I was almost sixteen. Within three months, my dad had sent us to the mainland. That was it; I just took for granted she was dead. I never stopped to question. But my dad might have, I'm not sure. He at least didn't buy that she had been killed by a drunk driver."

Steve continued to rub small circles on Riley's neck and shoulders. She was completely knotted with tension, not that he was surprised.

"What happened, when she disappeared?" he asked.

"That's just it, exactly," she said. "She just disappeared. Went to the market one day for rice, and didn't come back. I was almost sixteen, too. I searched the city for her for days. Nothing. One night, Joe showed up. You know the rest – he took me to Frank's and spent months in training. All he said was that I was being placed in WITSEC."

"I'm looking forward to hearing exactly what this training was, but I think you need to try to get some rest. Do you think you can sleep a little?"

Riley nodded, and Steve settled her so that her head was nestled on his shoulder. By the time he had covered her with their father's jacket, she had already drifted off to sleep. Two hours later, he realized that she had not had a single bad dream. Smiling to himself, he closed his eyes and fell into his own peaceful slumber.

Two flight changes later, including a one hour layover with blissful hot showers, Steve and Riley were in their Jeep headed toward Bukhansan.

"This is just killing you, isn't it?" Riley grinned at Steve shifting uncomfortably in the passenger seat. "Wait, you're miserable because you're not driving, right? Or are hurting? We can stop . . . "

Steve shifted again and gave Riley a tight smile. "I'm used to driving," he said.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Yeah, I'm a little sore. Let's keep driving, though."

Riley nodded and expertly maneuvered the Jeep along the dirt roads. Steve had reluctantly agreed to let her drive in deference both to her knowledge of the area and his aching ribs.

Within the hour, they had arrived at their immediate destination. Riley parked the Jeep in a secluded nook. She winced as she climbed out; all of the sitting and driving over the rough roads had taken a toll on her. Grabbing her backpack and tactical bag, she rounded the back of the vehicle in time to hear Steve try to muffle a groan of pain as he unfolded himself from his seat.

"Easy there, Steve," Riley said, extending her hand to grip his forearm and give him some leverage to pull himself to a standing position.

"We have steps," Riley said, indicating to a long series of winding steps leading up to a modest structure on the side of the hill. "Can you make it?"

Steve scoffed and grabbed his bags from the back seat. "Lead the way, I'm fine."

By the time they reached the building, Steve was breathing shallowly and Riley was alarmed at his pallor. She wrapped an arm around his waist as she rang the small gong next to the door.

"Hold on," she said.

To Steve's surprise, a monk in an orange robe answered the door.

Riley murmured a few words in Korean and bowed awkwardly, not releasing her grip on Steve. The monk bowed and gestured them inside.

"Where are we?" Steve whispered.

"Remember when I said I studied martial arts?" Riley asked. "This was my dojang in Korea. Frank found it for me. It's one of the reasons I'm sure we'll find him here. The monks will help us."

Three monks came out to greet them. One broke into a broad smile and bowed deeply to Riley. She returned both the bow and the smile. A few more Korean phrases and a gesture toward Steve, and he found himself being gently led away by the other two monks.

The remaining monk started to lead Riley in the opposite direction, and Steve spooked. He turned, pulling away from his escorts.

"No!" he called out, "No, you can't take her . . . "

"Steve, it's okay," Riley said. She gestured toward Steve and murmured a few more phrases to the monk. He studied Steve dubiously and Riley nodded emphatically. Steve thought he made out the word 'brother'. Finally, the monk nodded and he and Riley headed down the same hall as Steve. She slipped beside him and took his hand.

"I explained that you're my brother, so they'll let us stay together," she explained. "They have rules, you know."

An hour later, Steve had to admit that there were advantages to being in Riley's element.

"Unbelievable," he said, running his hand over his newly wrapped ribs.

"Yeah," Riley said, sipping on tea. "No offense to Malia, but Eastern medicine has a few neat tricks."

They had both been carefully tended to; their burns soothed with ointment and their ribs rewrapped. Riley had a compress of herbs on the back of her neck.

"So, tomorrow morning, first light, we'll head over to the edge of the boundary. It's only about a five mile hike, not too rough. It's where Frank parked Tangerine when we stayed here before."

"His bolt hole?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, exactly."

"Sounds like a good plan. This is . . . when we brought you out of North Korea, I had no idea . . . you've been very well-trained, Riley. It's a little unsettling."

"Eh, you'll get used to it," Riley grinned.

Steve and Riley bowed to the monks the next morning and headed out.

The morning passed quickly as the two hiked in companionable silence.

"I can hear you thinking, you know," Steve smiled down at Riley.

"That obvious?"

"Yeah, what's on your mind?"

"Do you think she's still alive? Oliva?" Riley asked, pausing to take a sip of water, and offering Steve the bottle.

He took a large swig. "I don't know, Riley."

She nodded. "Okay, only about another half mile."

"Is that . . . " Steve stopped, sniffing the air.

"Um, yeah, it is," Riley grinned. "We found Frank."

"Weed."

"It's for medicinal purposes?" Riley offered.

"For what condition?"

Riley stopped, put her hands on her hips, and faced Steve. "PTSD."

"Oh."

"Yeah, so, you know. Just . . . "

"Got it."

Riley walked to the door of a small cottage, the notation of "groundskeeper" on a sign in Korean, American, French, and Chinese. She knocked on the door and waited.

There was a shuffling sound and a muttered curse.

"No worries, Frank, it's just me," Riley called softly through the door.

The door was flung open, and Frank appeared in the doorway.

"Moonbeam," he said, relief and concern evident in his face and tone.

"Gonna let us in?" Riley asked.

Frank sighed. "Not gonna leave you standing out here. Come on, then."

As soon as Riley was in the door, Frank wrapped her tight in a hug and picked her up off her feet.

"Ooof", she gasped, "ribs, Frank."

"Sorry, darlin'" he said, putting her gently back on her feet. He settled for keeping her pulled close to him, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head. "I see you brought your new friend back to visit me."

Riley pulled back and looked Frank in the eyes.

"Ah," he said, "you've figured it out."

Frank extended a hand to Steve. "Welcome back to Korea, son. You look a far sight better than you did last time I saw you, though I'm not sure you and Riley here should be humping through the forest just yet."

"We came for answers, Frank," Steve said, shaking Frank's hand.

"Yeah, I kinda figured. Okay, well, take a load off. Stow your gear over there. Coffee, tea, something stronger? A smoke?" Frank puttered around the small cottage and Steve and Riley did as instructed, gratefully setting down their backpacks. Frank led them outside to a small campfire and they settled in.

"Okay, darlin', where do you want me to start?" Frank said. "I'm gonna assume that Joe White has left you hangin', yeah?"

Steve nodded tersely. "We know that Riley and I are full siblings. She saw a picture of Doris at my house; she knew her as Olivia, the woman who raised her from the time she can remember. Obviously, Olivia was Doris McGarrett, and she was my mother and Riley's. Setting aside the obvious question – why did my mother apparently fake her death, which I would love to know – the immediate concern is why did Joe White bring Riley to you; and why does WoFat want her? And why is Joe afraid to face me with answers?"

"That's a lot of questions, son," Frank said. "I was hoping Joe would come clean, explain it to you, but obviously he didn't. You're right, of course – Riley was born about six months after Doris McGarrett's memorial service. Now, I swear to you, I do not know any details beyond that. Joe insisted that it was safer for Riley for me not to know. What I can tell you is that Doris raised Riley street-smart in the outskirts of Tokyo. By the time Riley came to me at sixteen, she was fluent in English and Japanese, a blackbelt in Aikido, and could pick any lock put in front of her. Had the scariest powers of observation I've ever encountered."

Frank paused to pour coffee from the campfire into three battered tin mugs. Steve and Riley accepted the rich brew gratefully.

"That's not a typical upbringing," Steve commented.

"No," Frank shook his head slowly. "No, it's not."

"Frank, we know Joe is mixed up with Special Activities Division. We got a visit from an agent with a cease and desist order when we started looking into Joe's life. What you're describing . . . " Steve didn't finish the sentence. If his hunch was right, and Doris was CIA, then the less they knew the better. But not knowing was driving him crazy.

"I know, kid, it's . . . 'spooky' . . . let's just say," Frank said wryly.

"Okay, so what happened, Frank? Olivia just disappeared off the face of the earth. I searched for her, for days, and nothing. Then Joe showed up out of the blue and brought me here," Riley said.

"Joe and I crossed paths on an op . . . just an op, we'll leave it at that. I'm not sure how or why he was connected to Doris; I'm sorry, I know you want more answers but that's the truth. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to be able to give away any information that could endanger Riley or Doris. You have to understand, Steve – you and Mary were just names to me. I only knew that Doris had faked her death in order to protect her family."

Frank stood up and added some more wood to the campfire and refilled Steve's mug.

"Joe tracked me down in a bar one day, said he had a package for me. He followed me back to my place, and pulls Riley out of his truck like a damn rabbit out of a hat," Frank continued.

Riley grinned.

"She was skinny and feisty, guess that much hasn't changed. Joe said that her mother was a contact, with information important to national security, and that she'd had to go underground, leaving Riley behind. Joe brought her to me for safe-keeping; he told her that he was an agent with Witness Protection, and of course, at sixteen, alone in the world, she took him at his word. Riley, I'm sure, has told you some of her antics with Joe. He stayed here for about six months, had Riley up at the crack of dawn every morning, doing what amounted to BUDs training." Frank shook his head; Steve surmised that he wasn't entirely impressed with Joe's methods.

"But why, Frank? What were Doris and Joe both so afraid of?" Steve asked.

"Kid, I think that whatever Doris was involved in, Joe was involved in it too. I think Doris was always looking over her shoulder, so she did her best to raise Riley to be smart, tough, and independent. So if anything happened to her, Riley could hold her own. And I think Joe knew more than Doris; I think he knew that Riley would be a target, so he was trying to teach her to protect herself."

"I didn't do a very good job," Riley frowned.

"Riley, you couldn't expect yourself from a danger you didn't know existed," Steve said. "Joe lied to you and kept you in the dark. He should have brought you to me. He should have been honest, told me what was going on."

Steve stood up and paced around the campfire. "You don't know anything about Doris' mission, Frank? Her work? What she and Joe were doing?"

Frank shook his head. "Sorry, kid. My role in all of this was to keep Riley safe. I only knew of your existence; I didn't know anything about your activities. Joe wanted me to stay completely off the grid to keep anyone from tracking Riley through me. I had no way to keep track of you, or contact you, for that matter. It all came together for me when we came to haul you out; but Riley being there – Joe was completely surprised."

"Yeah, convenient for Joe to suggest that," Steve said, sarcastically. "Perfect way to keep me completely unaware that Mary and I had a sister; that our mother was still alive. But, you did tell me to take good care of my sister, and I intend to."

Frank shrugged. "Kid, I can't explain or defend Joe's motives to you, and I have no intention of trying. I don't know him all that well, didn't care for him all that much."

"And yet, you took me in when he asked you to?" Riley asked.

"What can I say, I like a challenge," Frank drawled. "Plus, it was damn fun to teach you to fly Tangerine. We had a few good years there, kid, you and me against the world. Till Joe showed up and took you off to college. I've missed you, darlin', truth be told. Even if you did cramp my style with the ladies."

"You let Joe take her away to the university?" Steve asked.

Frank sighed. "I had mixed feelings, son, don't think I didn't. But, it had been a few years. Joe said that a man who was loyal to your father had provided the education for Riley. And she was going to be under protection."

"By whom? Certainly not Joe," Steve said.

"Hell, no," Frank snorted. "By the Kkangpae."

"Wait, I was being protected by organized crime thugs?" Riley protested. " I would have expected better results from the rivals of the Yakuza. At what point, exactly, did they protect me?" Riley stopped and rubbed her eyes wearily. "Certainly not at the point that the Yakuza clocked me over the back of the head and drug me off to WoFat."

"Hey, kid, I think you better hit the rack. You're looking a little rough around the edges. One of the perks of being a groundskeeper is indoor plumbing – knock yourself out and take first shift in the shower. I've got a pot of soup on the stove, we'll get it heated up."

Riley nodded and headed inside, grabbing her bag. It was easy to find the bathroom in the tiny cottage. She smiled to herself as she brushed the remnants of a joint off the sink and started the shower.

"What aren't you saying in front of Riley?" Steve asked quietly, as soon as she was inside.

"You don't miss a trick, do you, son?" Frank asked.

"No sir. Joe trained me, too."

"Well, for starters, Joe said that Doris had to go underground. I don't know if he meant that figuratively . . . "

"Or literally," Steve finished.

"Yes. I'm sorry, son, I wish I could tell you and Riley at least that much. The fact that Joe was so hell bent on training Riley tells me that he thought Doris was alive, though, for what that's worth. I think he always thought she would be a target," Frank said. "I didn't know the name WoFat until our last meeting, so I don't even know if that's who was in play back when Joe brought me Riley."

Steve shook his head.

"Steve," Frank said, "I don't know your relationship with Joe. He came all the way to North Korea to pull you out of that compound."

"Joe was my training officer in BUDs and my CO on quite a few ops. But before that, he was a close friend of my father's. He's always been something of a father figure and mentor to me . . . but when I needed him most, needed answers . . . he lied and bailed out. You don't need to protect my opinion of him at this point; just tell me what you know." Steve crossed his arms and waited for what Frank had to say.

"Well, son, then I'm going to tell you, Joe's methods of 'training' Riley were brutal."

"Yeah, BUDs training is hard core, there's no doubt about it," Steve agreed.

"Umm hmm, and how old were you when you went into BUDs?" Frank asked.

"Twenty-three," Steve replied.

"Yep, and how tall were you, how much did you weigh?"

"About six one, one ninety going in. Little less coming out."

"Right. And did you have team-mates, buddies to help you when the going got tough?" Frank kept on.

Steve paused. "Yeah."

"So. Try to imagine . . . I guess you would have been about sixteen when Doris was supposedly killed in that wreck, right? Yeah, so imagine Joe White bringing you out here in the middle of nowhere, right then, at that point in your life, and starting your BUDs training. Now, imagine being a good half foot shorter and about a hundred pounds soaking wet," Frank scowled.

"Shit," Steve breathed out, the realization of Joe's methods sinking in. "Riley acted like it was day camp."

"Because she didn't know any different," Frank reminded him. "Joe had her convinced it was Witness Protection and this was protocol. Don't get me wrong, some of it probably was fun for her. She was a natural with the guns – kinda like that pretty Kono girl that came to bust you out. She's strong, and she's light, so she could do things with climbing that I don't think even Joe could have imagined. And let me tell you, your mother had made sure that girl had the best martial arts training. I saw her take Joe down sparring once."

"No way," Steve said.

"I shit you not," Frank said. "But I had to draw the line on some of his ideas."

"There was a worse idea than putting a one hundred pound sixteen year old girl through BUDs training?"

Frank hesitated. "What was the worst part of your training that you recall, kid?"

"SERE training," Steve replied, without hesitating.

"The parts you can talk about, or the parts that are classified?"

Steve gave Frank a sharp look.

"Yeah, well, I'm just an old bastard that's missing in action; I don't do classified very well. Let's just say that Riley's 'training' ended the day I drew a gun on Joe for training her to withstand torture. I couldn't take it any more."

Steve gaped at Frank in horror. "He didn't seriously . . . "

"Oh, yeah, son. When he decided that cigarette burns and waterboarding needed to be part of the curriculum, I decided school was out. For good."

When Riley came out of the shower, rubbing her hair with one of Frank's ratty towels, Frank was puttering in the tiny kitchen, warming up the promised soup.

"Hey," she said to Steve, who was standing outside the bathroom door. "Sorry, didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"Riley," Steve said hoarsely, "Frank . . . can I just . . . ?" He gestured toward the neckline of her simple t-shirt.

Riley didn't know what he was getting at; so she shrugged. "Yeah, what?"

He gently pulled the collar of her t-shirt down below her collarbone. There, just as Frank said, was a row of four perfectly circular scars. He repeated the gesture on the other side, to reveal three more scars.

"I didn't do so well on that side," Riley mumbled. "Sorry." She looked at Steve, expecting to see disappointment.

"You didn't . . . you're apologizing for . . . oh my God, Riley. No. No, no sweetheart. It was . . . Joe was completely – what he did, Riley, that was insane. I'm so sorry, if I had known . . . Frank should have shot him," Steve said, gritting his teeth in anger.

"It's okay, Steve, he was just trying to make sure I could handle myself. See, that's why what happened with WoFat wasn't that big of a deal," Riley said earnestly. "I could handle it; I'd had worse."

"It doesn't matter, Riley, it was so wrong. All of it, so terribly wrong. I can't even explain . . . " Steve broke off, at a loss for words, and pulled Riley to his chest, cradling her head against his shoulder.

The next morning, Steve and Riley reversed their journey and started the hike back towards the dojang to retrieve their Jeep.

Frank had sent them off with fresh provisions, though Steve politely declined his offer of some first class grass. Riley made it about thirty yards away from the cottage before she turned back in a dead run and launched herself into Frank's arms.

"Thank you, Frank," she said, trying desperately to hold back tears.

"Darlin', I love every minute I ever have with you. You know you can always come to me, right?"

Riley nodded. "Should I just stay, now?" she whispered. "Pretend none of the rest of this is happening?"

"I don't think you'd be happy with that for long, baby girl. Besides, that big brother of yours would be lost without you right now. You need to take care of each other for a while, okay?" Frank said.

Riley hugged Frank once more and then turned and walked back to Steve, who was waiting patiently for her.

"You okay?" he asked gently as she returned to his side.

She nodded mutely, still struggling to maintain her composure.

Steve waved once more at Frank and then squeezed Riley's hand. "Come on, let's go home," he said.

They were loading their gear into the Jeep when Steve heard the twig snap.

He whirled around in time to disrupt the punch that was thrown toward his face; the blow glanced off without doing much damage. He instinctively struck out with a strong uppercut of his own, and heard a satisfying crunch as his fist connected with his assailant's jaw.

He turned, frantic to get Riley in his sight, and then froze and watched in amazement.

While he had been busy dropping his attacker, Riley had taken on three of her own. One was already on the ground, groaning and clutching at an arm bent in an entirely unnatural position. A second was on his way over her left shoulder. Steve heard the pop as his shoulder dislocated, and then he landed on the ground with a solid thud.

The third attacker stopped at the sound of the safety sliding off Steve's gun. Riley looked mildly annoyed.

"Steve, stand down," she said. "They're just punks."

She spoke a few sharp words in Korean, and the third assailant raised his hands, as if to indicate that he would not interfere with their exit. As Riley moved toward the Jeep, however, he made the grave error of making a grab for her ass. Her roundhouse kick landed him against a tree, groaning and clutching his crotch in agony.

"Would you like to drive, Steve?" Riley held out the keys to him. She wasn't even breathing hard.

"They're in Korea," Joe said into the phone. "If they head your way I'll have to intervene on this end; if not, I'll wait until they get back to the island."

He was silent for a moment, listening to the other party.

"She'll be able to retrieve the information and create enough misdirection to lead WoFat to believe that John was Shelburne; I'm more sure of it than ever." Joe paused. "Either way, I'll move her after she's finished. It's too dangerous to allow her to stay in contact with Steve. We'll have to keep them separated."

"Frank told me you once bested Joe in sparring," Steve said, "and now I almost believe him."

Riley tossed her head back and laughed. Steve smiled – it was the first honest laugh he'd ever heard out of her. It reminded him of Mary, again.

"Glad to know I can impress my big brother," Riley said.

Steve felt a sudden and completely unexpected sting of tears rush to his eyes. He was a big brother . . . not just to Mary, but to Riley as well. The DNA test had confirmed what he somehow had instinctively sensed from the moment she first opened her eyes on that helicopter. And now he was responsible to protect both of them, somehow. It wasn't an unwelcome responsibility, but the enormity of it was starting to sink in.

"Steve?" Riley asked hesitantly. "Are you – I'm sorry, you don't have to be stuck with me, you know."

Steve realized that Riley was misreading his silence.

"No, no, Riley, it's not that at all. But you and Mary have both been put in harm's way recently . . . I'm just trying to think things through."

"Where is Mary?" Riley asked. It seemed strange to be asking about a sister that she had never met.

"Mary, thank goodness, is currently on a Marine base. She can be a bit of a trouble magnet, even without Joe's cloak and dagger shenanigans."

"Shenanigans, really?" Riley asked. "Frank helped raise me, you can use your Navy vocabulary."

Steve laughed. "I spend a lot of time with Danny, who has a word-a-day calendar, and a preteen daughter."

"Oh, that explains a lot, then," Riley said. "Are we headed back to Hawaii?"

"Yes, why?" Steve asked.

"I was thinking . . . if we went to Tokyo," Riley answered slowly, "maybe we could find some answers?"

"About our mother," Steve guessed.

Riley shrugged. "I mean, we know a lot more now . . . maybe we could turn something up?"

"I've thought about it Riley, believe me. It seems like a logical place to start. Even talked to Frank about the idea last night. But, I can't afford to get us caught in a war between the Yakuza and the Kkangpae; not on their own turf. If we go back, I have my team, the resources of Five-O, and the protection of the governor. We can get you back to Jerry's and see if you can do some digging off the record," Steve explained. "So, we go home, okay? We'll come back, if we need to."

"Home." Riley tried the word on for size. She still looked skeptical.

"Home, and ohana," Steve said.

"Ohana?"

"Means family. And you have one now, Riley, make no mistake," Steve said firmly. "So for now, we go home."