"How are we supposed to focus on this poaching case, with Steve and Riley out there, doing God knows what, with Joe White and that, that - spook?!" Kono said, pacing in front of the tech table.

"Kono, babe, we can't do anything to help them right now. As talented as we are, this is out of our element. Besides, the governor is going to get suspicious, and antsy, and start asking way too many questions. And Steve doesn't need that, on top of everything else. No, we need to make progress on this poaching case," Danny said. "Besides, I think we need to prepare ourselves for the possibility . . . "

"What, Danny?" Chin asked.

"I was there when Steve pulled Mary out of the trunk of a car. I was with him when he turned that laser focus on tracking down the people who took her . . . the people who hurt his sister. You haven't seen the scary Super SEAL side of Steve until you've seen someone lay a finger on a sister of his, I'm telling you," Danny said. "We need to prepare for the possibility that Steve is going to go off the reservation."

"Off the reservation," Kono repeated, arching a brow and folding her arms. That usually didn't bode well for Danny. He knew that Kono practically worshipped Steve, and he may have just taken his life in his hands by questioning him.

"Look, I'm not saying that Steve isn't completely loyal to Five-O. He is. But Steve, with his family . . . you understand. Family. Ohana. He goes a little nuts. And if he went nuts over Mary, I can't imagine . . . with everything these schmucks put Riley through . . . I'm just saying, we need to have a contingency plan, in the event that Steve takes some time away from Five-O to deal with this," Danny said.

"We want there to be a Five-O for him to come back to," Chin said.

"Exactly."

The three of them were silent for a moment.

"Okay, so poachers . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Joe fixed Riley her own cup of tea, and showed the group around the spacious house. In deference to his injuries, they agreed that Fielding would get the front bedroom with it's own bathroom, and he collapsed gratefully onto the low bed.

Joe led them back through the living area, and they made a gentle turn into what felt like a separate wing of the house. There was a spacious study, two guest bedrooms and a hall bath, and another bedroom with an en suite. The floors were gleaming wood, covered with rich oriental carpets; their decades of wear only enhancing their beauty. The artwork was simple and understated, where it existed at all. Riley found herself thinking of the monastery as she walked, barefoot, down the hallway. She'd instinctively slipped her shoes off at the door, as the Asian influence of the house had her slipping easily back into her life-long habits from living in Japan. Steve doubted that it had even registered with Riley, really, that the house was hers; willed to her by Mokoto.

Joe smiled at her. "When I asked if this felt like home," he said gently, "this was what I meant. The style, the architecture - it's all Japanese."

"It even smells the same," Riley said. She was relaxing for the first time in what seemed like days.

"Teak, and sandalwood," Joe said. "I thought Riley would want this bedroom; it has its own bathroom as well, and I'll take the room just opposite." He said it hesitantly; he thought it was for the best, but he wasn't sure how Steve and Riley would react.

"Riley stays with me," Steve said firmly.

"Then that bedroom is yours," Joe said, pointing to the third bedroom. "Look. Until we know more about what's going on, and until we can figure out a way to safely undo whatever Shelburne has done, Riley is better off kept under close protection; our protection."

"You mean, you need to protect the team, and the innocent citizens of Hawaii, from me," Riley said. "No, I get it, really," she added, as Joe looked at her apologetically. She turned to Steve. "He's right on this one. I will be a nervous wreck back down there, not knowing what could happen. Fielding seems to know a few tricks, and Joe might be able to take me on, with back-up." She grinned at Joe.

"You're sure?" Steve asked. "I'll stay, then." In addition to enough surveillance and early warning detection materials to outfit a small compound, they'd all brought enough clothes and supplies for several days. Steve had been somewhat saddened to realize that Riley had, in fact, never unpacked anything at his house - all of the clothing and items that Renee had gathered for her had remained neatly packed into her bag; folded and put right back each time she did laundry.

Riley shook her head. "Steve, at some point you'll have to take care of your team, take care of Five-O. I want my job back when this is over."

Joe smiled. It was settled, then. Maybe, just maybe, in this beautiful space, and a little bit of time, he could earn back the trust that he'd betrayed all these years. From the look Steve was giving him, it wasn't going to be easy, but then, Steve hadn't punched, strangled, or threatened him in the last few hours, so there was hope.

#*#*#*#*#

Steve woke the next morning feeling reasonably rested. Joe had suggested that they simply take shifts being awake and listening for Riley; since neither of them would sleep well for worrying about her. Knowing that Joe was deliberately listening for any sign of trouble did, in fact, allow Steve to sleep. He still had some reservations about his former commanding officer, but Joe was slowly and surely proving himself. The fact that Shelburne and the SAD no longer trusted Joe, meant that Steve was more inclined to.

He showered quickly and went into the kitchen. Riley was there, fixing a cup of tea.

She held up an extra tea bag in his direction, and he nodded.

"I'd love some, thank you," he said. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Mostly," she said, pouring water from the kettle into their cups. "You and Joe work out the shift schedule for Riley-watch?"

Steve grinned. "Hey, we have a rogue agent in the house, too, you know. It's not all about you, kid."

"Yeah, well, I was a spoiled only child until you came along," she retorted.

He took the cup from her outstretched hand, and brushed her still sleep-tousled hair away from her face. She looked so young in the weak morning light streaming into the kitchen window. "You okay with not being an only child?" he asked, smiling down at her.

"Oh yeah," she said, "really, really okay."

He frowned as his phone buzzed quietly in his pocket, pulling it out and looking at it.

"What is it?" Riley asked, curious.

"They have a big lead on the poaching case," Steve sighed.

"Go," Riley said. "You're the team leader; go lead the team."

"Riley, I -" Steve started, but she cut him off.

"Steve. You can't do this. You can't just put your entire life on hold for me. We don't know where this is going to lead, how long it's going to take to unravel everything. I want you to have a life when this is over," Riley insisted. "I want to have a life when this is over. There's a job for me at Five-O, I hope, someday, when I can be trusted to interact with civilized folk again. Go. Catch the bad people hurting the animals, and then come back and tell me all about it."

"You're sure?" Steve asked quietly. "I mean, Fielding is . . . and Joe . . ."

"Well, they're no friends of Shelburne, which means, maybe, they're friends of ours?" Riley asked.

"It feels like a gamble," Steve admitted.

"Gotta trust someone, sometime," Riley said. "Or I can go back to North Korea and stay with Frank. Go. Go do the Five-O thing, Steve. Seriously. I'll be fine here." She paused, then poked at him with her foot. "Don't smother me."

Steve grinned as he sipped the last of his tea, then stood and kissed Riley on the forehead. "Okay, bossy pants."

#*#*#*#*#

When he returned that evening, a bit bruised, and sporting a few bites from a small exotic primate, Riley was sparring with Joe in the quiet, manicured garden behind the house. They each spared him a small nod and then went back to what they were doing.

He watched, intrigued, as Riley easily blocked Joe's punches. Joe was hardly up to his full strength, but still, it was easy to imagine the grace and speed that Riley had at her disposal. Fielding sat in a corner, observing; studying. It made Steve feel uneasy, the vaguely clinical expression on Fielding's face as he watched.

Riley went on the offensive against Joe, backing him easily into a low stone wall.

She looked up at Steve, flushed and happy. "Come on, big brother, let me see what you've got."

"I'm not sparring with you, Riley," Steve said, shaking his head, smiling indulgently at her. "But you've impressed me. Joe, you trained her well."

"She got more from the monks than she did from me," Joe said.

"Well, to a point," Fielding observed. "Riley, if you were to take Steve on right now, how would you do it?" His tone was light, curious.

Riley stalked around Steve, her bare feet completely soundless in the short, dense grass. He had an image of a Siamese cat.

"Well," she said, eyes sparkling . . . this was a fun game she had played with Joe as a teenager in North Korea. "He has a height and weight advantage, so I'd have to focus on undermining his balance. He's favoring his right forearm right now; he has - what bit you? - he has puncture wounds on that arm, probably some bruising underneath those, so I'd try to get him to block as much as possible with that arm. I'd look for a pain reaction and then go for the ribs . . . " she paused, tilting her head and studying him, ". . . no. Not the ribs. The groin." She grinned as Steve flinched.

"Hey," he protested.

Riley shrugged. "It's effective," she said. "Groin, then knee. Hard and fast; I'd only get one shot, so I'd have to make it count. Take out the knee, then I have the advantage of balance. Once I have the advantage of balance, his height and weight become a disadvantage, not an advantage. Then I go for ribs, neck, head shot."

"Punch or kick?" Joe asked.

Riley studied Steve. "Kick. I'd have to kick, because . . . I don't think I could bring myself to hurt him with my hand. A kick would feel less personal; I'd have more distance. I'd have to go for a roundhouse, or a flying back."

"Can you get the height you need?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Riley said. "Easily." She demonstrated, moving into a fluid roundhouse, followed by a flying back kick, in the general direction of Joe. It was obvious that she could have made contact with his jaw quite easily.

"Wow," Steve said, impressed, as Joe and Fielding smiled in satisfaction.

"Tell me how you'd go for others," Fielding said.

"Who?" Riley asked.

Fielding shrugged. "Just for practice. Detective Williams. How would you approach Williams?"

"Easy," Riley said. "Knee. He has a weight advantage, but not a height advantage. He favors his knee consistently, so there's an old injury. I would go for the knee, hard and fast."

"Kono," Fielding prompted.

"Same," Riley said, her eyes somehow shifting, giving Steve the uneasy impression that she was possibly in some sort of meditative state. "She favors a knee as well. She's more flexible, way faster than Danny. I'd have to come from behind, ideally. Knee, and then probably pressure point at the neck, take her down gently."

"Why gently?" Fielding asked, curious. "You wouldn't take Steve or Williams gently, why Kono?"

"Kono is rarely out of range of others," Riley said. "Chin, for one. Cousins. She doesn't realize it; I'm not sure they even realize it. I'd have to take her down gently, or they'd hear."

"Chin?" Fielding prompted.

Riley started to respond, but then blinked, shook her head as if to clear it, and looked at Steve, her eyes clouded with confusion. She misread his expression of concern for her as disgust, and her eyes filled with tears.

"No," she said fiercely, turning to Fielding. Before Steve or Joe could react, she had the former agent by the throat. "No. You're trying to make me hurt them," she hissed.

As Fielding's eyes bulged, Steve and Joe rushed to try to gently pull her away from him. Steve was amazed at the strength of her grip, and worried that they would not be able to physically prevent her from strangling the man.

He changed tactics. "Riley, sweetheart, you're okay," he said quietly, into her ear, while he stroked the back of her hand gently. "No one is going to make you hurt the team, or let you hurt the team."

She released her grip on Fielding and turned, clutching at Steve.

"How do you know?" she said brokenly. "Apparently, I've already found their weak spots. God, Steve, what am I? What did they make me into?" She dissolved into quiet sobs, hiding her face in his neck, as he rubbed soothing circles on her back.

"Go," he said quietly, to Fielding and to Joe.

"I'm sorry," Joe said quietly, his voice full of regret, and he laid his hand softly and briefly on the back of Riley's head. He helped Fielding get up out of his chair and silently led him back toward the house.

Steve continued to murmur soft words of comfort in Riley's ear as he rubbed her back, waiting for her sobs to subside.

"You're something else, you know that?" Steve said. "You are absolutely one of the strongest people I've ever met; in fact, it's only someone else being hurt that gets to you. You know what that makes you?"

Riley shook her head.

"That makes you incredibly compassionate," Steve continued. "And truly compassionate people rarely, rarely ever hurt others. They weren't able to make you hurt Charlie, and they're not going to make you hurt anyone else. We're going to get answers, and figure this out, but I believe that you're stronger than anything they've done to you, Riley."

"Do you really believe that?" she whispered.

"Yes," Steve said firmly. "I absolutely believe that." He squeezed her shoulder. "Let's go inside, yeah? I need to give myself a tetanus shot."

Riley's head shot up at that, and she grabbed Steve's arm and looked at the small puncture marks. "These look almost human . . . did a little kid bite you?"

"A tiny little primate," Steve laughed. "Which has now been returned to its natural habitat, giving Danny yet one more thing to rant about."

Riley laughed.

"There we go," Steve said, smiling back at her. "That's better. You okay?"

She shrugged. "Not really," she said honestly. "But I'm better. Fielding needs to . . . he can't do that. He can't try to satisfy his curiousity like I'm some science project."

"I think he gets that now," Steve said, wrapping his arm around her as they walked together toward the house.

#*#*#*#*#

The rest of the evening passed in relative tranquility, although Fielding kept a studious distance from Riley, after making a profuse apology. Joe cooked a simple meal of steamed rice and vegetables, and Steve smiled at Riley tucking into the food with enthusiasm, holding her bowl and chopsticks with complete ease.

"She's more relaxed here than I've seen her since we brought her back from North Korea," Steve observed to Joe, quietly.

"The style of the house, the shape of the dishes . . . everything about this place is more familiar to her," Joe said. "I think Mokoto knew it would be, when he left her the house."

"I want her to be able to enjoy it," Steve said, "not feel like it's an exile. She's terrified that she's going to hurt someone. We have to find answers, Joe. We have to figure out how to undo whatever it is that Shelburne has done to her."

"We will, Steve, I swear it," Joe said.

Steve studied him for a long moment. "Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to leave her here today?" he asked quietly, looking down at the beer that he'd snagged as he and Joe had left the kitchen and gone out to the porch. "I was afraid . . ."

"You were afraid you'd come back and we would have taken her, or hurt her?" Joe guessed.

"Yeah, to be honest," Steve said.

Joe nodded his head slowly. "I understand, Steve," he said. "I betrayed your trust. I hope that at some point it does become obvious that my intentions were good. I really was convinced that I was protecting you, you know."

"I think I believe that," Steve said. "I believe it of you. I don't believe it of her."

"Of your mother," Joe clarified.

"Right. I don't believe her intentions were every honorable, in regards to Riley," Steve said. "Am I wrong?"

Joe sighed. "You're not wrong, Steve. I'm sorry. I wish I could say honestly that you're wrong, but I'd be lying."

"I would have known you were lying, Joe," Steve said wearily. "I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry that my mother . . . that our mother . . . God, Joe, what was she doing? What was she thinking?"

"That, I can't tell you," Joe said. "I don't think I want to know."