A/N: There was NaNoWriMo and then there was . . . life. I apologize for the delay. Another relatively fluffy, team- and family- life chapter, but I think our beleaguered team has earned it. Small correction in this chapter: I realized that the doctors at Tripler would generally be military officers, so "Dr." Link became "Major" Link. At some point I'll go back and correct the earlier chapters. I decided I would rather apologize for an improvement in accuracy than leave an error. There will definitely be more case fiction and action in the future, but I felt like some other issues needed to have the spotlight for at least another chapter or so.

#*#*#*#*#

"The house is going to feel empty," Steve said, taking a sip of his beer. "Rebecca moved out last week, Mary leaves tomorrow. It'll feel weird."

"It probably will," Danny agreed. They looked over the water in companionable silence. "But it's good, right? I mean, Mary was a huge help, and she and Riley had some time together, to get to know each other. Hearing Riley laugh tonight . . ."

"Yeah, it's good," Steve said. "Mary . . . she's not the little girl I remember, not the troubled young woman I bailed out from a distance . . . I've always loved her, you know that. But now, it's - I can count on her, you know?"

"She's proven that," Danny said. "To herself, which was the most important thing, I think."

Steve nodded in agreement. "She was talking to Rebecca about taking a course . . . maybe medical transcription, or phlebotomy. Can you believe that? Mary, with a needle and a syringe."

"Lord help us," Danny chuckled. "Rebecca wouldn't have encouraged her if she didn't honestly think she had potential."

"Speaking of potential . . . and Rebecca . . ." Steve nudged Danny.

"Starts at Queens day after tomorrow," Danny said, refusing to take the bait immediately. "Malia put in a good word for her, of course, but her resume is impressive. She got a position in ICU. Long hours, demanding, but she's excited."

"Her long hours going to allow her to spend any time with you?" Steve probed, grinning sideways at his friend and partner.

"If my crazy-ass boss doesn't monopolize my time filling out paperwork explaining perps dangling off roof-tops and being thrown in shark tanks, yeah," Danny retorted.

"Just don't go and get shot to spend time with the pretty nurse," Steve teased. "Put in a request for a vacation day."

"Funny, Steven, very funny," Danny said. "I won't have to get shot on purpose, it just seems to happen naturally when you're around."

#*#*#*#*#

Riley paced nervously in the living room, waiting for Steve to come downstairs. He was still fastening his watch as he hit the bottom stair, and looked at her in surprise.

"You've been up a while," he observed. "Excited about your first day back?"

"Yeah, sure," she said, putting her hands on her hips in a way that reminded him so much of Mary. "Just trying to decide if I'll lead with 'hey, there, Dr. Fong, how's the gunshot wound healing up? Sorry about that' or 'well, look at that, I see they had to replace the carpet, you know, because of all the blood'." She groaned and put her hand over her face.

"Riley, honey," Steve said, smiling. "Charlie is glad you're coming back. He told me yesterday that he needs you to create a searchable database of evidence from cold cases."

"If . . . with the right algorithm, you could search for seemingly random connections," she said. "Because they might not be random. Evidence is more objective . . ."

"See? There you go," Steve said. "You'll be back in front of a computer, back to being your brilliant self."

"Right," she said dubiously. "Brilliant. Maybe I'll have to settle for 'bright' now. You know. Now that I'm all un-enhanced."

"Riley. They ran a battery of tests on you. Even post-nanobyte, you are a near-genius. It was never the nanobytes that made you intelligent, honey. That's all you," Steve assured her.

"I'm slower. I think slower, I move slower . . . it's like, living in slow motion. It's weird." She stopped, shook her head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't complain -"

"No, don't apologize. It's going to take some continued adjustment, but you're doing great, Riley," he said. "Speaking of continued adjustment, one of us will come down to drive you to physical therapy today."

"I can drive," Riley said.

"You don't have a license yet," Steve reminded her.

"But I can drive," she pointed out. "You shouldn't have to stop your work to come babysit me."

"Not babysitting," Steve said. "If it's a slow day, we'll be fighting for the opportunity to get out. And we will work on getting your license, though, so you can drive. Legally."

#*#*#*#*#

"Good morning, Riley," Charlie said, extending his hand to shake hers.

"Good morning, Dr. Fong," she replied nervously. "Thank you so much for letting me come back."

"Are you kidding? We've missed you. We're glad to have you back, Riley," Charlie said. "And please, absolutely no one in Five-O or even HPD calls me Dr. Fong."

"Dr. Bergman does," Riley said.

"True," Charlie laughed.

"He also thought Steve wanted our DNA compared in order to prove or disprove Steve's possible paternity . . ." Riley mused. "So, okay, yeah, I guess I can call you Charlie. Steve said you had a database in mind that you wanted me to build?"

"Yeah, we've not had the manpower to do that," Charlie said. "Let's go to your office and I can show you what I have in mind."

Riley hesitated at the door of her office. Images of her last day at work at Five-O flashed through her mind unbidden . . . the horrific pain, the inexplicable urge to shoot Charlie, and the equally strong conviction that she somehow had to save his life. She looked down at the floor in the hallway. There was no evidence of blood, or of the extra bullets she'd put into the floor, trying to avoid shooting him.

"Everything here is as good as new, Riley," Charlie said softly. "Including my shoulder. But if you're not ready, it's okay. We'll wait until you're ready."

Riley took a deep breath. "No, it's okay. I'm definitely ready to get back to work."

He opened the door to her office for her. It was just as she remembered; thoughtfully appointed with the low desk that she preferred. There was a plant on the desk, with a card attached.

"Oh, you need to look at that," Charlie said, smiling.

Curious, she picked up the card. "It's from Jerry," she said, laughing. "The plant only needs a few hours of sunlight a week, so I can take it upstairs on the weekends. He should know; he spends a lot of time in the basement."

"Yeah, it's not a window office," Charlie said, apologetically.

"I'm happy in a space that doesn't have a lot of exposure right now," Riley said. "It feels . . . secure."

Charlie nodded seriously. "It is secure, Riley. We have key cards just for this hallway. Steve had a system installed."

She glanced down, embarrassed.

"No, seriously, we have a lot of sensitive evidence in processing down here," Charlie said. "It needed to happen. Okay, let's take a look at this database we'd like you to build for us. It's going to be a lot of work in the creation and initial set-up, but once we get the old cases logged in, and get everyone comfortable with the program, we should be able to stay current . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

Chin walked by Steve's office on the way to his own, and paused. Steve was deep in thought, absently rubbing his thumb on the corner of a framed picture of himself, Mary, and Riley. Kono had snapped the picture at a recent barbeque to celebrate Rebecca's new job and apartment, and it turned out so nicely that she'd framed it and left it on Steve's desk.

"Hey, Steve," Chin said quietly, leaning against the open doorway. "Everything okay? I hear Riley came back to work today."

"Yeah," Steve sighed leaning back in his chair. Chin took that as an invitation to come in, and he sat down across from Steve's desk. "She's recovered almost completely, physically, anyway. Still some physical therapy for her knee and shoulder . . ."

"And otherwise?" Chin asked quietly.

Steve pulled a face. "That's going to take a while. Shit, I have nightmares from what they did to her, Chin . . . I can't imagine . . . but some progress is being made. There are still a lot of things we don't understand. A lot of unanswered questions."

"Ah," Chin said. He had a feeling he knew what was weighing on Steve's mind.

"Now that she's stronger, and things have settled . . . I'm just wondering at what point I talk to the girls about what Joe said. About needing to test our DNA against his," Steve said. "I'm just . . . I'm not sure I'm ready."

"For what it's worth, Steve," Chin said carefully, "I think it's okay to give it some time and space. Would opening that particular can of worms make a difference in your day-to-day life with your sisters?"

"No, not really," Steve said, shaking his head. "I wouldn't want it to, anyway."

"Then I think when the time is right to bring it up, you'll know it," Chin said. "As long as they hear it from you . . ."

"Yeah, and if they hear it somewhere else, they'll never trust me again," Steve said.

"That's the tough part," Chin agreed. "Go with your instincts, Steve. And if there's anything I can do . . ."

"Thanks, man," Steve said. His phone pinged with an alarm. "Time for Riley's physical therapy appointment."

"You got it?" Chin asked.

"Yeah, Rebecca or Mary have been taking her . . . I'd like to check in, see how things are going," Steve said.

"Anytime you need any of us . . ." Chin said. "It's understandable that you'd feel especially protective; but you know you can trust any of us to help out . . . to look out for her."

Steve gave Chin's shoulder an appreciative squeeze as they left the office. "Chin, I'll never forget the sight of you carrying her out of WoFat's convoy when we first found her . . . believe me, if there's anyone I trust with her, it's you guys. But today's PT appointment, I have covered."

"You're bored because we don't have a case, admit it," Kono said, poking hopefully at the smart table.

"Kono; you do know that crimes don't magically appear out of the table, right? We get the information sent to us there after the fact," Chin said.

"I know," Kono said morosely. "But in the absence of a case, I thought I could use the plasma to pull up the video of the Surfest in New South Wales . . . "

#*#*#*#*#

"She's doing great," the therapist said, after Riley's appointment. "Just a few more sessions . . . and of course, swimming would be a great idea. No surfing until the knee is completely stable."

"Thanks," Steve said, "we can definitely make the swimming happen."

He was pleased to see that Riley barely limped on the way back to his truck - a slightly newer model, same color as his previous Silverado. She'd abandoned the crutches and then the heavy brace, and by the time Rebecca had moved out, was an expert at wrapping her knee herself with a simple supportive elastic bandage.

"Good report," he commented, as she climbed into the truck. She was quiet, looking out the window, when he climbed into the driver's seat. "You don't seem pleased."

"I'd forgotten," she said quietly, "what things felt like before."

"Before the nanotechnology?"

"Yeah. This is taking forever," she said. "Sorry. I'll take the pain over the mind control tricks any day."

He wrapped his hand around her knee. "It's taking a while, but you are healing. And swimming is great therapy for sprains and torn muscles."

"I enjoy swimming, but I'm not a very good swimmer," she said hesitantly. "I know everyone around here assumes that everyone can swim. And surf. I'm . . . I probably would have picked it up really quickly, before . . ."

"Hey, as long as you're enjoying it, that's all that matters. It's moving through the water that helps your knee, not setting new Pacific open water speed records," he said. They stopped at a red light, and he studied her expression. "Riley," he said, realization dawning, "you have absolutely nothing to prove. To anyone. None of this is a test. None of this is training; no one is watching to see if you can go faster, be stronger . . . all we want, all we're looking for, is for you to be happy and healthy. That's it."

"That's my objective?" Riley said, smiling a bit.

Steve laughed. "Yeah, that's your objective. Happy and healthy."

"And build a kick-ass database," Riley added.

"Hooyah."

#*#*#*#*#

"Danny?" Rebecca said, hefting her backpack on her shoulder as she climbed down the bus stairs. The apartment that Danny had helped her find was only two blocks from public transportation which would connect her with Queens hospital - a factor which put the place at the top of her list. She didn't want to invest in a car on the island until she was entirely sure of how long she would stay.

"Hey," he said, his blue eyes crinkling in a smile. "I know it's only a two block walk, but I thought it might rain." He offered an umbrella in evidence.

"And that would be why I carry a rainslicker in my backpack," Rebecca said, "and makes you showing up here not at all suspiciously stalkery."

"I wanted to see you, find out how your first day was, and offer to cook dinner for you," Danny said. "Which makes me sound suspiciously anxious to make a good impression."

"Cooking for me definitely makes a good impression, and I'm not the least bit anxious about it," Rebecca said, smiling. They started walking toward her apartment.

"Allow me?" Danny asked, offering a hand out for her backpack.

"After twelve hours on my feet? Sure," Rebecca said. "I'm enough of a feminist to be confident in my choice to let someone else make my life easier."

Danny laughed and slung her backpack over his shoulder. "So, sore feet aside, how was your day?"

"Excellent," Rebecca said. "It's a well-run hospital. Procedures are clear and based on common sense. I think it's going to work. How's Riley? Did you see her today?"

"She was back in the office," Danny said. "Charlie has her creating some massive evidence database; something searchable so that we can cross reference cases."

"Oh, good," Rebecca said, "she was starting to go a little stir-crazy, I think."

"And we know from experience that a bored McGarrett is a bad, bad idea . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve puttered around the kitchen, putting together a simple meal. He could hear Riley in the dining room, fingers flying over the keyboard as she chatted with Jerry.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking," she said, "we could program . . . almost like a bot, except just within the database. It could virtually crawl through the evidence . . . okay, that would work. Hold on, I'll ask." There was a pause. "Steve?" she called.

"Yeah, Riley?" he called back. He stopped, closed his eyes, and soaked in the moment. It felt . . . normal. Wonderful . . . like home.

"Can Jerry pitch in on the programming?"

"That's not a problem as long as the actual evidence and data is secure," Steve said. "For now; anyway. I'll work on getting him clearance."

"Seriously?!"

Steve laughed; he wasn't sure who sounded more excited, Riley or Jerry.

"Yep. Hey, dinner is almost ready."

He heard Riley say her goodbyes to Jerry before she came padding into the kitchen.

"Smells good," she said.

"It's scrambled eggs," Steve replied wryly. "I can grill a great steak, and I make excellent scrambled eggs. Otherwise . . ."

Riley shrugged. "I really like scrambled eggs, though. We had chickens at Frank's. They roosted in Tangerine, sometimes."

#*#*#*#*#

His eyes popped open around two am; instantly and fully awake, without knowing why. He forced himself to be still, to listen, to let his eyes adjust to the darkness.

It was the slide of the drawer in the kitchen; the one that held the knives.

"Shit," he whispered, a million scenarios running through his head as he grabbed his SIG from the drawer. A random burglar, deciding to arm themselves. Riley, arming herself against an intruder - real or imagined. Images of her on the ground next to his truck, his diving knife . . .

He crept down the stairs silently. With no light coming from either Riley's room or the kitchen, he decided to check on her first, and cautiously pushed her unlatched door open.

"Riley?" he whispered, peering in. Both beds were unoccupied, one of them still made neatly, the other a tangle of sheets.

He continued toward the kitchen, calling out louder. "Riley, you okay?"

There was a scraping sound, and he entered the kitchen cautiously. Riley was wedging a chair under the handle of the back door. He glanced into the living room to see another chair wedged at the front door.

"Riley, honey, what's going on?" he asked. "Did you hear something?"

She hefted the knife in her hand and nodded, then crossed to the corner of the kitchen that gave her sight lines to both doors. Her back pressed into the corner, she sank down gracefully into a lotus position, watching. She held the knife in an almost casual grip, but Steve could see the line of tension in her shoulders.

He realized that she'd not made eye contact with him, and wondered if the nod was even in response to his question.

"Riley, I'm going to look outside," he said, going to the back door and carefully pulling back the curtain. He went to the window next. "I don't see anything. What did you hear?"

She looked at him then, her head tilted slightly in confusion. "She hasn't come back," she said. "I went into the city, to look for her. I wasn't supposed to. If she didn't come back, I was supposed to stay right here, until someone came for me; someone with credentials. An American. But it's been days, and I went into the city to look for her, and I think maybe someone followed me. I don't know what to do."

"Oh, Riley, honey," Steve breathed. He put the safety back on his SIG. "Riley, you're not there, you're not in Tokyo anymore. You're here, with me, in Hawaii. You're safe."

She smiled at him, sad and fond. "It's okay; I know you're not real. I've seen you before, when I was dreaming." She paused, looked at him apprehensively. "Sometimes the dreams are bad."

"Riley, I'm right here, I swear. I'm going to come closer, okay? So you can see that I'm real. And the bad dreams you had about me, they were a trick. Someone tried to trick you, but you were stronger. Just like you're stronger now," he said. He slid down to the floor next to her, his eyes locked on the knife, ready to block if she lashed out. "Reach out and take my hand, Riley, so you can see that I'm real. I'm right here."

She touched his hand, and then pulled back quickly in surprise.

"See? I'm right here. You're home; with me. Mary was here, too, remember? She just left to go back to LA. And you were at work today, in your office, at Five-O," he said, capturing her hand in his.

She shook her head. "No, Five-O isn't real. I made it up when something bad happened. I wish it was real. It seems real."

He rubbed the back of his head in frustration, then a thought struck him. "Hey, what if I showed you credentials?"

"Credentials," she said dubiously.

"Can you sit right here? And . . . how about you let me hold the knife?"

"How about you show me the credentials?"

He had to smother a grin. Even caught between dream, memory, and reality, she was as skeptical and sarcastic as ever.

"Fair enough," he nodded. "I'm going to stand up, now, and go to my desk, okay?" He raised his eyebrows pointedly at the knife.

"This is for anyone coming through those doors," she explained.

"Okay, that's good. While I go get my credentials, then, think about the fact that I was already inside, here, with you, before you bolted the doors," he suggested. He saw her glance between the doors and then at him as he made his way carefully to his desk, where he picked up his shield and ID from their customary resting place.

He slid back down beside her, handing her the items, hoping that the tangible evidence would trigger something and ground her in reality. She turned the shield over and over in her hand, rubbing her thumb over the edge.

"Real," she said, her voice hoarse. "You're real. All of it?"

"All of it, Riley," Steve said, putting his arm around her. He closed his hand around hers gently, carefully, and took the knife.

"What if I really heard something, though?" she whispered. "What if someone is trying to get in?"

"Then I will take care of them," Steve said. "But I checked. There's no sign of anyone. I think you had a bad dream, and woke up confused."

"Am I losing my mind?" she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

"No, honey, I don't think so," he said. "This happens to me sometimes, too. I have a bad dream, about something that happened, or I get knocked out, and get confused. When our trucks were hit, when we were trying to get you to Tripler? At first, I didn't know who Danny was. And I thought I was in another country and another time completely. I'm sorry that this happens to you, and I wish it didn't, and hopefully someday it won't, not nearly as much. But it happens to a lot of people who have been through really traumatic events."

"I'm not crazy? No one is . . . what if we missed something? What if there are more nanobytes?"

"The doctors used the files that Shelburne gave us, and checked everything they could. I really don't think they missed anything. But if it would make you feel better, we can check. I'll take you to Tripler tomorrow," he said, kissing the top of her head as he nudged it down to rest on his shoulder. He felt her nod. "Okay, I'll call first thing in the morning."

"You call her Shelburne," she mumbled. "Not Doris, not Olivia - well, you wouldn't - and not mom. Mother. Just Shelburne."

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's . . . I can't wrap my brain around the person who raised me, who I thought died when I was sixteen, as the same person I saw in that bunker. I'm sorry, though -"

"No," she interrupted quickly. "No, it's better. Shelburne is better. That's what we call her."

"Okay," he said, holding her tighter.

"I can't believe you're real," she whispered. "I wish you had come instead of Joe. In Tokyo."

"I know," he said, squeezing his eyes closed against a sudden stinging. "If I had known . . . Riley, if I'd had a clue . . . I would have come for you. Nothing would have stopped me. I will always come for you. Got it?"

She nodded, finally relaxing, and letting him hold her.

"And Mary," she added.

"Yes, and Mary," he said. "Any of our ohana. We always look out for each other. You are not alone."

She nodded again, and yawned.

"Do you think you can go back to sleep?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. But it's okay. Mary brought down a box of books. I'll read."

He thought for a moment. "Okay, if you want to read, that's fine, Riley. How about this - you get back in bed, and read, and I'll bunk in the other bed in your room. That way, if you get sleepy, you can just fall asleep, and I'll be right there if you have another bad dream, or if you wake up."

"Or if someone really is trying to get in," she said. "The chairs stay in front of the doors."

"That's fine, too," he agreed. "I do have a security system, you know."

She pulled back and looked at him, arching an eyebrow. "Those are fairly easily disabled."

He smiled, remembering how easy it was for her to disable the system for an entire building, with a roll-up keyboard.

"Fair enough," he agreed. He stood, and reached down a hand to pull her up. "I'm going to go up and get my phone," he said, steadying her as she swayed tiredly.

"'S'fine," she said, "I gotta hit the head."

On his way up the stairs, Steve pondered the fact that Mary was the only woman in his life who didn't refer to the bathroom as the 'head', and shrugged.

#*#*#*#*#

The weak rays of dawn revealed Riley, sound asleep, her finger stuck somewhere near the middle of A Wrinkle In Time. Steve smiled, remembering Mary carrying the dogearred copy of that book around with her everywhere. He was surprised it hadn't made it into the very few suitcases they each packed up when their dad sent them away.

"Hey," Riley said, her voice raspy with sleep and lingering exhaustion. "Not that I mind, at all, but why are you in my room?" She peered at him, confused, still nestled in the blanket, her hair in tousled waves around her face.

Steve sat up on the edge of his bed. Danny had been right; separating the bunk beds and placing them on opposite sides of the room had been a good idea.

"What do you remember about last night?" he asked.

"I think I had a bad dream . . . about going to look for . . . her. And thinking someone had followed me home," she said. "I don't - I remember talking to you. Did we talk?"

"Oh, yeah," Steve said. "You armed yourself with a kitchen knife, barricaded the doors, and demanded to see my credentials."

"Oh, no," Riley groaned, burying her face in the pillow. "I'm sorry," she said, the words muffled.

"It's okay, Riley," he assured her. "Last night, you indicated that you might want to get the docs at Tripler to double check you. Do you still want to do that? I can call."

She thought about it a moment. "Why did I want to see your credentials?"

"You weren't sure that I was real," he answered. "It took me a while to convince you."

"Then, yeah," she said, softly. "It's just . . . you have no idea. It - she told me that you were the one . . . they messed with - they made it seem so real, Steve. That you were the one who hurt me. And that everyone else was a figment of my imagination. They almost . . . I almost believed it. Completely. They were close."

"Shh," he said. "But they didn't, right? It's okay. We'll get Major Link to just double check, then we'll both feel better. I'm confident that everything is fine. Remember, I have bad dreams and wake up disoriented, too."

"I know, but you don't shoot your boss . . . oh, no," Riley said. "Wait, I'm working on a project, I can't -"

"Yeah, you absolutely can," Steve said. "Who would have a more vested interest in making sure you're nanobyte free?"

Riley stuck her tongue out at him. "You're terrible. You are a terrible, terrible person."

"Too soon?" Steve asked, in mock innocence. "I'll call Major Link. You call Charlie, tell him you'll be in as soon as Link clears you. It's fine, Riley. It was a given that you'd have appointments and follow ups, and good days and bad days."

"And what's your excuse for being late to work?"

"I have a sister who needs me," Steve said fondly. "And my co-workers are just going to have to be jealous."

#*#*#*#*#

Steve sat with Link in the MRI observation booth.

"We can't put her in an MRI every time she has a nightmare, Commander," he said.

"I know," Steve agreed, rubbing his hand over his face.

"What you described when you called this morning sounds like pretty typical PTSD," Link continued, not unkindly.

"I know," Steve said. "I just . . . Major, I'm in over my head here."

"Well, it's uncharted territory for us, too," Link replied. "But one thing I can tell you for sure - nothing is lighting up on the MRI. Want to see the comparison from the last one?"

"Yeah, please," Steve said, leaning forward in curiousity.

Link put up an image which looked like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. "See? What looks like entire constellations? We don't see that, ever, on MRIs. We assume that had to be nanobytes. And then here . . ." he put up another image. "No indication. That was at the end of the initial MRI when you brought her in from . . . well. When you brought her in."

"And today's image?" Steve asked anxiously.

Before Major Link could answer, there was a soft knock at the door. He stood and opened it. "Lieutenant Rollins, glad you could make it."

Steve stood in surprise, and barely resisted grabbing Catherine in a hug. He pulled his hands back awkwardly.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Steve said. "Who called you?"

"Well, Riley is still of keen interest as a connection to WoFat, and unfortunately, any time there's a concern, even a potential concern, about the nanotechnology, I'll get an official call," she explained. "Please, don't let me interrupt."

"I was just explaining to Commander McGarrett that his sister's MRI looks completely normal; no evidence of nanobytes," Link assured him. "I'm still seeing a residual abnormality in the bilateral amygdala."

"The fear - anger center," Steve said. "Has there been any change?"

"No, not that I can tell, comparing two images," Link said.

Steve sighed in disappointment.

"No changes - no deterioration, no evidence of continuing damage," Link said. "It's not a bad thing. And it's soon. She's young, healthy . . . it could improve."

"And in the meantime?"

Link hesitated, remembering all too well what Riley was capable of when spooked - his nose still ached when storm systems moved through. "Keep an eye on her. Enhanced or not, she's had similar training to yours, and she's remarkably strong for her size. She's got a good reach on her. And if she has trouble differentiating the sensation and response of fear and anger . . . a situation in which a normal response would be to take cover, seek help . . . well. She could, instead, be unreasonably aggressive. Which may not be in her best interests."

Steve chuckled. "Or the safety of those around her."

"Well, you don't want to get on her bad side. I'll give you two a few minutes to, ah, debrief, and I'll ask the nurses to help Riley get situated and ready to leave." He grinned as he left the room.

"Cath," Steve said, grabbing her and wrapping her in a hug. He pressed his face into her hair, inhaling the comforting, familiar scent of her shampoo. "Thank you for coming. I know it's your job but you could ask for reports . . . thanks."

"Hey," she said, squeezing his arm. "I was told that she had a rough night, and that you were bringing her in for an MRI; I wasn't sure if any of the team would be here, figured you could use a little company."

"I didn't tell the team what happened . . . Riley was freaked out enough last night that she wanted to get checked out, but almost talked me out of bringing her this morning. I didn't think she'd want the extra attention. Yesterday was her first day back, so she called Charlie, and I just let Danny know I'd be late."

"Steve, she's okay," Catherine said. "And now you've both been reassured, and you can go on."

"Today," he said, sighing. "What about tomorrow, and tomorrow night . . . God, Cath, I'm in over my head, here."

"We'll get her some help, Steve," Catherine said. "Major Link can make some calls; I can, too. And I have a three day weekend off-base this weekend. I could stay with you a couple of nights."

"Yeah?" His face lit up. "That'd be . . . you know I love it when you can stay, but if she - Cath, she had a knife last night."

"I guess it's handy then, that I'm a highly trained, exceptionally skilled Naval Intelligence officer," Catherine said, smacking him. "Stop being a caveman. I'm coming for the weekend. If things get rough, you have back-up. If not . . ."

"Hooyah," Steve whispered, deciding it was worth a bit of embarrassment if he got caught kissing her in the MRI observation booth.

#*#*#*#*#

"Thanks," Riley said quietly, as they headed toward the palace. "I'm sorry you had to . . . I'm sorry."

"Riley, it's okay," Steve assured her. "It's okay that you're spooked. But everything looked good, I swear to you. Everything Major Link explained to you, I saw with my own eyes."

"I know. Thank you. And it was nice to see Catherine again," Riley said, looking at Steve out of the corner of her eye and smiling.

"Yes, it was," he agreed. He hesitated, then decided it was best for everything to be as transparent as possible. "You're still her best lead - Naval Intelligence's best lead - to WoFat. So, anything that is of concern . . . is of concern. First and foremost for your protection; but beyond that . . ."

Riley nodded. "I understand. You could just turn me loose in Tokyo, see if he comes after me again," she said.

Steve almost rear-ended the car stopped at the light in front of them. "What?! No, no we could not just turn you loose - why would you -"

"It might work," Riley said, shrugging. "Jerry could tag me with another tracker."

"We are not discussing this," Steve said, his hands white knuckled around the steering wheel.

"It should be kept in play as an option," Riley said seriously. "Now, about Catherine."

Steve blinked. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the high-test coffee at Tripler, but he was having trouble keeping up with Riley's segues.

"Okay," he said. Anything was better than talking about using Riley as bait for WoFat.

"You smell like her. Lavender and vanilla. It's nice," she said, smiling.

"Oh," he said, grinning sheepishly at her. "She has leave off-base this weekend, and we thought she might come to the house. Is that okay?"

"Duh, you don't need my permission," Riley said.

Steve laughed. "Mary has rubbed off on you. 'Duh'? That's what you're going with?"

"Sure, it's the appropriate colloquial rejoinder for the conversation," Riley said. "But you're wandering off-topic."

Colloquial rejoinder, Steve mouthed to himself, as he parked the truck and they started making their way into the palace.

"If Catherine is coming for the weekend, I need to clear out," Riley said firmly, "and give you some privacy. You've essentially been living in a girls' dorm for weeks. Hey, Danny!"

"Hey, guys," Danny said, coming off the elevator.

"What's up, do we have a case?" Steve asked, frowning as he grabbed his phone. No one had called.

"No we do not - I wanted to come down, see that Riley is okay," he said.

Riley looked reproachfully at Steve.

"I didn't say anything," Steve said, holding his hands up in protest.

"I'm a detective, kid," Danny said, wrapping her in one of his bear hugs. "Unscheduled appointment of non-specific nature . . . plus, you both look like you didn't sleep last night. You okay?" He patted her head fondly.

"I'm fine, Danny," Riley said, "and Steve got to see Catherine."

"Nice deflection," Danny said. "And I'm willing to go with it, so what about living in a girls' dorm?"

"Catherine is coming this weekend, and I want them to have a nice weekend, without me underfoot, because Steve deserves that," Riley said. "Don't you agree, Danny?"

"I do, in fact, agree that Steve and Catherine are due a nice weekend together," Danny said, "but you are not underfoot. I'm sure any of us would be delighted to host you for the weekend, Riley."

"Okay, we'll talk about it," Steve interrupted quickly, "but we better both get back to work."

"Yeah, your boss is a real hard-ass," Danny said. He kissed Riley on the cheek and then turned to push the button for the elevators.

Steve wrapped his arms around Riley. "You need anything; anything at all, I'm right upstairs, yeah?"

She nodded. "I feel embarrassed now," she said. "It was just a bad dream. Can we just - everything's fine now, okay?"

The elevators dinged at the same time, and Steve tousled her hair as she hefted her backpack and stepped onto the descending elevator. He joined Danny, sighing and leaning against the railing.

"You look like shit, Steven," Danny said quietly. "What the hell happened?"

"Woke up to Riley barricading the front and back doors and wielding a kitchen knife," he said succinctly. "Took me awhile to get her reoriented. We went to see Major Link, just to be sure . . ."

"She wasn't back online?"

"Yeah. No issues there, thank God. So it was just . . ."

"Just like the time you talked me into going camping, and you woke up, convinced that we were hiding from insurgents?" Danny asked quietly.

"Yeah, pretty much like that," Steve said, wincing at the memory.

"Okay, well, don't you think that's to be expected?" Danny asked gently.

Steve stared at him, a horrified expression on his face. "Danny, I - shit, Danny. You're right, but that - what that's like - I don't want that for her, Danny," he said, his voice breaking.

Danny sighed and pulled out his phone, shooting off a quick text and slipping it back into his pocket.

"Okay, big guy," Danny said fondly, "you are fantastic when the bullets are flying, but we're past that point and getting into the part where we deal with the aftermath, and thankfully, that is my specialty. Come on."

Steve followed Danny off the elevator, into Danny's office.

"Danny, I probably have ten calls and twice that many emails -" he started to protest, but Danny cut him off.

"And that's why we're in my office," he said, closing the door firmly behind him, and sliding the blinds closed. "Sit," he commanded, pointing to a comfortable chair.

Steve sank into the chair and put his head in his hands. He was vaguely aware of the door opening, and Danny's soft 'thanks, babe', and then a cup of hot tea appeared under his face.

"Tea?" he confirmed, trying not to sound entirely too grateful.

"Kono made it; extra honey," Danny said.

Steve sipped it appreciatively. "'S'good," he mumbled. "Thanks."

"Okay, so here's how this is going to work," Danny said, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms. "Things are going to get better, Steve, you have to believe that. Things will settle in, they always do. But you're going to quit trying to be the one-man army that fixes it."

"Navy," Steve replied automatically.

"Fine. Mary went back to LA, Rebecca started a civilian life, and Riley started back to work. It was a couple of days of huge transition. Isn't that one of the triggers?"

"Triggers?"

"For PTSD, yes, triggers."

Steve stared at Danny blankly.

"What, they just wind you up and send you to God-knows-where and then . . ." he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nevermind. Okay, so give it a little time, and maybe some professional help."

"Like, a nurse?" Steve asked, wrinkling up his face.

"Like - no, Steven, like, professional help, which I've been begging you to get, for this very reason - for the waking up and hiding from insurgents and walking around with kitchen knives in the middle of the night. Professional, psychiatric help. For both of you, seriously," Danny ranted, waving his hands.

"But Danny, I -"

"You. You just said that you didn't want this for her," Danny reminded him.

"I don't, Danny - I - what goes on, inside my head, Danny, I wouldn't wish that on -. Oh."

"Yeah, oh. So isn't it worth a try, see if there's someone who can help her?" Danny asked. He fished around in his desk and pulled out a stash of chocolate. He broke off a piece and handed it to Steve.

"Yeah, if there's someone who can help her, then . . . " Steve trailed off, nibbling the chocolate absently. "This is good," he said, half surprised.

"It's chocolate," Danny said, "of course it's good. I keep a steady supply for Kono."

"Kono?"

"You really are a Neanderthal. Yes, Kono, and you and Chin owe me, and this chocolate, your lives, some days. So if it's worth a try to see if we can get Riley some help, don't you think you owe it to yourself to try, too?" Danny decided he also deserved some chocolate.

Steve looked at him dubiously.

"Steve," Danny tried a different tactic. "You could hurt someone. You and Riley both. Get some help."

Steve nodded slowly. That night, when he'd shoved Danny into a cave, protecting him from the enemy . . . he had woken up in a cold sweat for many nights after that, wondering what would have happened if he had mistaken Danny for the enemy.

"Okay, I'll contact Major Link," Steve said. "Because all of this, it's classified, Danny . . . "

"I get that," Danny said. "It has to be the right set-up. Now. This weekend - Riley is absolutely right. You, my friend, need a break. Let Riley come stay with me, or have a girls' weekend with Kono."

"Danny, it's not that easy," Steve said. "Like you said, she could hurt someone."

"You don't think Kono or I could handle her?" Danny laughed.

"No," Steve said, deadly serious. "No, Danny, I don't think you could. And not just because you wouldn't want to hurt her. She's had . . . Danny, Riley and I weren't taught self-defense. We were taught to kill. Trained. To kill."

Danny felt a chill go up his spine.

"Danny, why do you think I have you take me to Tripler instead of Queens if I take a really hard hit?"

"Their trauma ranking is higher?"

"They're military, not civilian. I have you take me to Tripler to protect civilians, Danny. Because if I'm not coherent; if I'm not in control . . ."

Danny let that sink in for a minute. "Okay," he said finally. "I get it. Doesn't change the fact that you have got to have a break, Steve. What about Joe?"

"What about him?"

"Let her go stay with Joe. He trained her, he could handle her, right?" Danny reasoned.

"Yeah, but - can I trust him?" Steve asked.

"That's a question for you and Riley to answer, but my gut says yeah," Danny said. "Now, yeah, you can."

"I'll think about it, Danny," Steve said. "Talk to Riley about it tonight. Okay?"

"Fair enough," Danny said, nodding. "And you'll make the other call, to Major Link."

"Yeah, Danno."

"Come'ere," Danny said, pulling Steve up and into a big hug.

"You're convinced that people need hugging," Steve groused, even as he welcomed the gesture.

"I am, and they do," Danny said. "Now, go to work, keep this god-forsaken pineapple infested heap of volcanic ash safe."

#*#*#*#*#

By the weekend, a plan was in place.

"It's only a forty minute drive," Steve said, as he put his duffle bag in his truck. Riley was on the front porch, watching him in amusement, while Joe was already relaxing in the chairs by the water. "Anything - anything at all comes up, you call me."

"Yes, Steve," Riley said, rolling her eyes. "I'll be fine. I would have been fine by myself."

Steve paused on the front porch. "Maybe - but you know - when I approached Joe with the idea, he was really, really happy, Riley. I think - I think he wants an opportunity to make amends."

"It's taking a lot, for you to trust him, isn't it?" Riley asked.

"Yes," he answered simply. "But my gut tells me it's the right thing to do. I'm going to go say goodbye to him - would you watch for Catherine? She should be here any minute."

Steve sat down next to Joe and looked out over the water, silent for a long moment.

"I sense that I'm about to be given a condition," Joe said, his eyes crinkling.

Steve laughed. "I haven't said anything to the girls. About - checking our DNA any further. It's too much, too soon, Joe. I will. I just need a little time."

"I understand, son," Joe said. "It's not my place to say anything, don't worry. A word of wisdom, though, if I may? Secrets . . . they have a way of coming out. And because of the way I brought it up, some of your team knows. Chin knows -" He stopped.

"Chin knows what?" Steve demanded. "Did Chin know-"

"No, no, Steve - Chin never knew that your mother and I - he never would have kept that from your father. No, Chin knows that in regards to the DNA, well . . . I know what I'd like the outcome to be, if you ever decide to check," Joe said quietly. "I didn't mean to involve my own emotions, it's not my place - he just picked up on something."

"Joe, I -" Steve stopped, shook his head. "I don't know how to feel about any of this."

"You shouldn't have to," Joe said. "It's not a burden you should have ever had to bear. I think I hear the purr of that sports car of Catherine's. You two have a nice break - you need it. Don't worry about things here."

When Steve reached the front porch, Riley was helping Catherine load her bag into Steve's truck.

"Not even a hint?" Catherine teased.

"Nope," Riley said. "It will be a surprise, and you'll love it. I hope. I mean, you will. I know you will."

Steve slung an arm around Riley's shoulder and kissed her cheek. "Yes, she will. Thank you."

#*#*#*#*#

"I really don't need a babysitter," Riley pointed out, sitting down next to Joe.

"No, you certainly don't," Joe agreed. "But Steve would like his house in one piece when he gets back. And his kitchen knives all where they belong."

"Hey," she protested.

"Riley, there's no shame in struggling to adjust," Joe said. "Remember the night that Frank was convinced that the Viet Cong was tunneling up into the cabin?"

She thought for a moment. "That's what that was? I thought it was a bad trip or something. That - wow; that makes sense now."

"Damn straight," Joe said. "I'm sorry, Riley, for everything you've experienced - so sorry, that much of it has been a result of my poor choices - but no one is surprised that you're having some issues. Steve says you started meeting with someone."

"Yeah," Riley nodded.

"Think it will help?"

She shrugged.

"Ah. Not interested in talking to me about it. That's fair. If and when you'd like to, Riley, I'm here. I know a thing or two about what you're experiencing. In the meantime - what would you like to do with our weekend?" Joe asked.

Riley's eyes sparkled.

"I have a few ideas . . ."

#*#*#*#*#

"I didn't know you had it in you, sailor," Catherine teased, "planning a romantic get-away."

"It was actually Riley's idea," he admitted. "Sorry, Cath - I guess I really could have done better in the romance department."

"Hey, you arranged a chopper ride from the top of Tripler," Catherine said. "That counts in my book."

"Yeah?" Steve said, grinning.

"Yeah - wait, what are you thinking?"

"Nothing . . . look. We're here."

Catherine looked out and gasped as the mountain home left to Riley by Hideki Mokoto came into view. "Steve," she said, "it's stunning. Is this -"

"Mokoto's house," he nodded. "Well, Riley's now. And she wanted us to come here, enjoy it."

Catherine smiled up at Steve, then sobered when she saw the solemn expression on his face. "Hey, Steve," she said, "what's going on?"

"They . . . this is where it all started to go sideways," he said, trailing his hand up the railing as they went up the stairs. He unlocked the front door and held it for Catherine to go inside. "They got to her, here," he continued, following her in. "She had a seizure . . . we may never know if that happened on its own and they capitalized on it, or if they triggered it. And that's when they started with the pictures."

"Pictures . . . when they linked your image with the pain and fear centers . . . wow."

"Yeah, it was -" he stopped, ruefully rubbing a hand over his eyes. "She was terrified. Of me. The kind of abject terror that I've only seen in . . . well, not on US soil, even. I hadn't thought, coming back here -"

Mokoto's estate had retained a minimal staff, and they'd come, quietly and efficiently, and restored the house and grounds to order. But Steve could still picture the bank of computer equipment which Riley and Jerry had set up, could still picture Riley looking up at him in terror as he'd crouched next to her, could still picture getting into the truck to go to Tripler . . .

"Hey," Catherine said, putting her hand on his arm, "we can go somewhere else."

"No," he said quickly, "No, Riley specifically said to make some happy memories here, so that's what we're going to do. She said something about . . . energy, or something. Probably something she picked up from the monks."

"Okay. So, where do we start with some happy?"

Steve smirked at her.

"Other than the obvious," she added, rolling her eyes.

"There's an amazing garden in the back," he said. "I think, Catherine, that it would make me very happy to hold your hand and walk in the garden."

#*#*#*#*#

The range fell silent as the handful of law enforcement agents and sport shooters stopped their own target practice and stared, mesmerized, at the slender young woman picking off targets at an impossible distance. A man, clearly ex-military in his bearing, stood over her, spotting the targets with a set of worn binocs.

"Well done," Joe said, smiling down at Riley. She squinted up at him, rubbing her shoulder absently. Joe caught the action and raised his eyebrows. "And with that, we better call it a day. Nice shooting."

"Nice rifle," Riley said, rubbing her hand over the smooth stock.

"It was your father's," Joe said quietly, congratulating himself for not stumbling over the word. "Not sure why he wanted me to have it, but he did, and I've treasured it. Brought Steve out with it not too long ago."

"Yeah? How'd he do?" Riley asked, trying to sound casual, but dying of curiousity.

Joe laughed. "You mean, is he better than you?"

"Yeah," Riley admitted, grinning. "So?"

"A little," Joe said. "More practice, more training. More experience."

"You mean, like combat experience," Riley said. "Was I supposed to get combat experience?"

Joe was momentarily taken aback. "Honestly? I'm not sure," he said. "From the files your mother gave us, we know that some of the things that happened were considered field tests."

"Shelburne. We call her Shelburne," Riley said. "And what things? Like the museum bombing?"

"Yep. Shelburne, hunh?"

"Yes," Riley said tersely.

Joe wisely decided to not investigate that further. "So, we've visited the range. What else did you have in mind?"

"How do you feel about video games?"

#*#*#*#*#

"Thank you," Steve said, as Catherine handed him a steaming cup of tea. He smiled at her as she settled into the chair next to his on the porch.

"The gardens are stunning," she said, "but this view is hard to beat, too. Thank you, Steve, for taking Riley up on her suggestion. This is lovely."

He nodded, staring pensively out over the mountainside. "I feel like . . ." he sighed.

"Like you're coming up for air for the first moment in a very long time?" Catherine suggested.

"Yeah," he said, smiling at her again.

"You are, Steve. I've been - we've all been worried about you. What you've been handed to deal with in the last year, it's a lot. A lesser man might have given up, walked away from all of it," Catherine said. "You've stayed the course, looked out for your family, your team . . ." She put her tea down and unfolded her legs from where they were tucked underneath her, and stood behind Steve, her hands resting on his shoulders. Feeling the tension there, she started pressing her thumbs carefully into the tight muscles, smiling as she was rewarded with a relieved groan from Steve. "So, give yourself a couple days to come up for air, Steve. Let me look out for you for a little bit, okay?"

He nodded and dropped his head forward, allowing her strong, capable hands to coax out some of the tension and strain in his shoulders. After a few moments, he reached up and covered one of her hands in his own.

"Catherine," he said, tugging gently on her hand. She allowed him to pull her in front of him, and she stood, smiling down him, her hand cupping his face. "Thank you," he whispered. "For everything. For putting up with all of the crazy . . ."

She slid into his lap, her trim legs easily fitting on either side of him in the porch chair, winding her hands around his neck.

"I wouldn't imagine it any other way, Steve," she said.

His hands wrapped around her hips, holding her tight, as he closed the distance between them and kissed her, slowly and tenderly. He slid one hand up to tangle in her hair as he stood, fast enough to make her gasp and giggle, and wrap her legs around his waist.

"I think, actually, that maybe I won't come up for air for just a little bit," he murmured, as he buried his face in her neck, trailing kisses from behind her ear to her collarbone. "Would that be okay, too?"

"I think that would be acceptable," she said, her fingers once again seeking purchase on his shoulders and holding on tight.

"In that case, Lieutenant," he said, nudging open the front door, "allow me to show you the master suite."

#*#*#*#*#

The sun was setting, highlighting the mountainside with vibrant pinks and oranges, as Catherine padded into the kitchen. Her hair was still damp from a shower, hanging in loose waves over the collar of Steve's shirt. He smiled appreciatively at the sight.

"I didn't feel like rummaging in my suitcase," she explained. "Let me guess," she said, peering over his shoulder at the grill pan heating on the high end gas range. "Steak?"

"Steak," he confirmed.

"And scrambled eggs in the morning?" she teased. "Your specialties."

"Specialties," he laughed, "that's being generous. I also brought cereal and oatmeal; but definitely, scrambled eggs if you're hungry."

"I think," she said, standing on tiptoe and pulling him down for a kiss, "that I will be hungry."

#*#*#*#*#