Pillow Talk

Aftershock, a tag scene for Hookman

By Cokie

He sat, sprawled, in a wooden chair at the edge of his yard, listening to the waves gently lapping against the shore. The night was dark; the clouds hanging heavy in the sky. The rain from earlier in the day had lightened to a fine mist, clinging to his skin and hair, but he was unaware of it. A tumbler with a finger or so of Makers Mark was setting on his leg, held loosely in his left hand; the bottle of Makers was within reach on the small table. Five empty Longboards were on the ground next to his bare foot. He still wore his clothes from the day, but his boots had been kicked off as soon as he came into the house.

His right elbow was on the chair arm, his bowed head propped up with his fist. In the background he heard the sound of a car door and knew he had company, but wasn't willing to seek them out.

Let them come to him. He was just… tired. If he was lucky, whoever it was might knock on the door, and not getting an answer, get back in the car and leave him alone. He wouldn't make for good company tonight, and when he was honest he just wanted to be alone. Too many thoughts… and demons… were taking up residence in his mind.

~~~H50~~~

Catherine climbed out of her car and slammed the door, anxious to get inside and out of her uniform. She had been out on maneuvers for a week and a half, but in a surprise move, they had docked about twelve hours earlier than expected. A fact which meant she was back on dry land on Friday night rather than Saturday morning.

And since she was at Steve's, it was a win all the way around.

The truck was there but the house was dark, so she tested the door handle. The front door was surprisingly unlocked and Cath entered and listened to the quietness of the house, not sensing Steve's presence. She set down her duffel bag by the stairs and walked through to the back of the house, finding the lanai door open. She could make out his figure sitting out near the water and warning bells began ringing in her head. Something was 'off' about his posture and she immediately jumped to the conclusion that he had been injured.

She walked across the yard toward the beach, clearing her throat along the way so not to startle him.

"Hey, Commander," she began.

Steve turned his head in her direction and a ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Hey. You're not supposed to be here until tomorrow." She could clearly hear the question behind it.

"Well… surprise. We docked early." She slid one arm around his shoulders and leaned down for a kiss, which he half-heartedly reciprocated. Cath could smell the whiskey on his breath and saw the glass still held in his hand. She hesitated, but had to know. "Everything OK?" she asked, rubbing her hand across his back. No visual injuries. Although she had noticed that he hadn't made eye contact with her and those warning bells began pealing.

"Uh, yeah, I'm good."

She thought maybe he was trying to convince himself.

"You're getting wet," Cath told him with a smile.

"Huh?" He looked up and blinked, just then noticing the water droplets on his eyelashes. "Oh, yeah. I- uh, sorry. Didn't even notice." He brought the glass to his lips then looked at it like he didn't even know how it got there. After a sip, he made a face and tossed the rest of it aside.

Catherine moved to stand in front of him; she just had to know. "Steve, are you injured in any way?"

He looked up at her and gave a crooked smile. "No, I'm fine." He then shook his head, "Well, maybe not really fine, but I'm not hurt."

She glanced down at the empty bottles at his feet. "What time did Danny leave?"

Steve let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair, reaching for her hand to tug her down. She gladly sat on his lap, her arm once again around his shoulders. "Danny has Grace tonight," he explained. "I guess I drank those alone."

"Want to tell me what happened?" she asked.

Steve looked out at the ocean, lost in thought once again. "I'm not even sure. In case you're wondering… the gov'er… the governor told me not to go to the office until Monday, so I'm officially off duty," Steve said and felt the alcohol take effect. "I wouldn't have drunk…drank that much otherwise." He tugged on a strand of hair that had come loose from her bun. "But, I'm not drunk."

"OK," she said with a smile at his slightly slurred speech. It was a very rare occurrence that her boyfriend drank this much. "I'm glad you have the weekend off. You work too hard," she chided. "You need some down time."

He actually got a good look at her and shrugged. "Look at you," he said. "Dressed all in cammie and we have a perfect night to dig a foxhole." He paused, and then added, "And I'm in no mood or shape… sorry, Cath."

"I have a suggestion," she began.

He tilted back his head and smacked it against the wooden chair. "Ow!" he exclaimed and then chuckled. "I hope your suggestion doesn't require any work on my part because I'm afraid I'm kinda buzzed."

She smiled. "It's no secret that you're buzzed right now," she agreed, leaning down to kiss him. "It's late. How about we go inside and get out of these clothes… because you, my friend, are wet, and once we're dry, you can tell me about your week."

He sighed once again before nodding in agreement. She bent down to gather up the empties for recycling while he reached for the Makers Mark bottle. Steve stood up and had to plant his feet firmly to keep from tilting to the side, a feat that didn't go unnoticed.

"Need any help?" she asked.

Steve grinned sheepishly and threw his arm around her shoulder. "Maybe. Lead on, Designated Driver."

~~~H50~~~

Catherine stopped in the kitchen and put the bottles in the bin while Steve set the Makers on the counter. He waited for her, a vacant stare on his face.

"Hey, are you hungry?" she asked. "Have you eaten anything?"

"Huh?" He came out of his haze. "No, I'm good. But you go ahead and eat."

"I've eaten, too, so why don't we go upstairs? I'm ready to get out of these clothes." They climbed the stairs in silence and she noticed Steve kept a firm grip on the railing to keep his balance. Maybe he was a little more buzzed than he thought.

She got out of her uniform and kept an eye on him, her concern growing with each silent minute. He peeled out of his damp clothing in the bathroom but she noticed him take something from his pocket before doing so. His back was to her, but she could see that he was turning something over and over in his hand before closing it in his fist. He came into the bedroom after being done with his business and grabbed sleep shorts and sat down on the side of the bed. He set the object on the nightstand, but she couldn't see what it was. She decided he would share it with her when he was ready.

Catherine moved to stand in front of him when he didn't make a move to lie down in bed. "Hey," she whispered. "Will you talk to me? What's wrong?" She placed two fingers beneath his chin to tilt up his face, hoping he would look at her. "Whatever it is, you need to tell me about it," she told him. "Please."

Steve stared at her and nodded, reaching both arms around her waist and pulling her closer to him, his head buried in her chest. Catherine's hand moved to the back of his head and she splayed her fingers through his hair, giving him the comfort he was seeking.

After a short while she gently pushed so that they both fell onto the bed. She rolled over Steve to her side of the bed before pulling up the sheet and cuddling next to him.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

Cath turned out the light and maneuvered until they were cheek to cheek. Whatever it was haunting him… and she could read the signs, she hoped the darkness would help him open up.

"I'm not sure what you're sorry for," Cath begun, but was glad Steve was starting to talk.

"We had a cop killer this week," Steve said into the dark.

Catherine rose up and looked at his face in the shadows. "Not one… no one I know, is it?"

"No, we're all good," Steve assured her. "It started on Tuesday. I got to the scene and Danny told me it was a motorcycle cop named Keoki. And I knew it was Ben – he… he lived down the street from us when I was a kid and he and Dad were really close." Steve paused for a moment, clearly remembering his dad's friend. "Ben was shot while escorting a hearse to the cemetery. It was… it was pretty hard having to look into his face. After I got back, I kept meaning to look him up… but I never did." He added in a quieter tone, "Now I have to go to his funeral."

"Was he the target or was it a random shooting?" she asked.

"We didn't know at the time, but Chin soon found evidence on the hill where the killer took the shot. It was a brass casing with "Keoki" stamped on it."

"Wow. That sounds pretty personal," Cath replied.

"Yeah. I talked to one of Ben's friends about old cases and anyone who might have had a grudge against Ben, but Troy couldn't think of anyone. Troy said everyone liked him."

Steve grew silent and Catherine could feel the set of his jaw and the tension in his body. She rubbed her hand up his arm in a gesture she hoped would calm him. Finally he continued, "Troy Ookala was killed the next day. Victim number two."

"Oh, Steve," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"It was all a set up. The killer had given a rifle to an unstable druggie and then called in a disturbance call. We shot the guy, but during the fire fight, Troy was shot and killed by the killer" Steve told her about the wild shoot-out with their suspect. "The next morning, Duke Lukela was found in an alley after responding to a call."

"Oh, not Duke," Cath said. "He's been so nice the few times I've met him."

"Yeah… Duke is a great guy. Thankfully he's alive. It was a pretty close call, but they think he'll pull through." Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"So, did you get the guy?"

"We caught a break and ended up in a car chase. He drove right into the harbor basin. When the car was pulled out, he was gone, but he left behind a prosthetic arm… still attached to the steering wheel."

Catherine raised her head and stared at him. "You have got to be kidding me."

Steve shook his head. "Not kidding. But then I knew who he was. I remembered him from an old case dad had told me about. Dad was one of the arresting officers. A bank heist had gone wrong and there was an explosion. Curt Stoner lost both hands when one of the shots hit a blasting cap that he was holding on to," Steve explained and shook his head at the image his mind made up of that scene. "He did his time, and while there, the State of Hawaii gave him state-of-the-art prosthetic hands. Still don't quite understand why… anyway, they said he was a model prisoner and he was released about three months ago."

"And apparently out for revenge," Cath commented.

"Yeah. There is a photo of Ben, Troy, Duke, my Dad and a couple of other cops receiving an honor for their part in stopping the robbery. We got protection for the other two guys and found out where Stoner lived," Steve told Cath what they had done to protect the lives of the men. "When we moved in for the take down, he wasn't there… but while we were in the apartment, I got a phone call. He was watching. Had me open a drawer… there was a picture of me with the words "You will pay for the sins of the father," written on it."

Catherine sat up in bed and turned to face Steve. "Wait! He came after you?"

"Tried to," Steve replied. "But don't worry, we got him."

"What did he do?"

"Fired through the window, but we got out of there and down to street level. He was on a roof on the other side of the street and I… diverted him away from everyone else and Kono took a shot."

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Did he make a bullet with your name on it?" she asked.

Steve leaned over and reached for the bullet on the nightstand. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger before dropping it into her cupped palm.

Catherine stared at it for a few moments, not saying anything before closing her hand around it. "This makes it seem too real," she finally admitted. "Steve, he could have killed you today."

"But he didn't… we took care of him." He held out his hand and she dropped the piece of metal back into it. "It's evidence so I need to turn it in, but I just couldn't let go of it yet. He had a full magazine of them," Steve softly added.

"I can tell this case was way too personal," Cath said as he set the bullet back on the nightstand. She wrapped her arm around Steve's waist and laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad the governor gave you some time off."

"Cath?" Steve asked quietly.

She looked up to see his face bathed in moonlight. "Hey, what's wrong? Is there more you're not telling me?"

"I… Cath, I don't know. It's… I can't explain it, but have you ever seen something you know can't be real? I-uh-saw something… well, someone."

Catherine turned on her side and propped her head in her hand, her other hand resting on his stomach. "Steve, please tell me what's going on."

"It wasn't real. Just my mind playing tricks on me," he began.

"Well, tell me anyway. I want to know what's bothering you."

He blew out air, then hesitantly began. "After Stoner was dead, I was standing over his body and I had the bullet in my hand. Danny and the others had already headed back to the cars. I… um, saw a shadow, so I looked up."

Steve stopped talking so she prodded him once again, knowing this was important for him to get out. "Go on…"

"Ben Keoki was standing there, dressed in his uniform and motorcycle helmet. And he thanked me for getting Stoner. And when I looked to his right, Troy was next to him," Steve said in a quiet voice. "After that, I saw my dad. He was… wearing his uniform and he smiled and held out his hand. He said he was proud of me. Cath, I shook his hand. I mean, I could feel his grip in mine, I swear it." Steve still felt in awe about the moment. Rationally he knew it wasn't real, but somehow it was.

"I know your dad has to be proud of you," Catherine said.

"Yeah, maybe," Steve replied, "but I… saw him. Only I know that didn't happen. Danny called my name and I turned the other direction, and when I turned back around, they were gone. And even though I know they weren't really there, it was all so real. Cath… I'm worried. Do you think I'm losing it?"

"No, of course not," she hastily disagreed. "But what I do think is that this was a rough case and it was very personal to you. One of the victims was a good friend. When did this start? Tuesday, you said? Today is Friday… and knowing you, you haven't slept hardly at all, hell bent on catching this guy."

"I slept…"

"Yeah, I bet. What time did you get up this morning?"

"Uh… around oh-dark-thirty," he said around a yawn.

She grinned at him. "Uh-huh, I was right. How about yesterday?"

Steve thought in silence. "I'm not sure… but I woke up on the couch and it was still dark."

"You know what, after a good night's sleep, I'm sure things will look much better in the morning. Besides," she said with a grin, "we have the whole weekend. Maybe I can help make you feel better."

"You think?" he asked, turning to face her.

"Hey, down, Boy. Not tonight. You need rest. And I've been going for long hours this week, too," she added, leaning over to kissed him. "Steve…"

"Yeah," he sighed, pulling her closer.

Catherine gently placed her hand along the side of his face. "I'm proud of you, too. Don't ever forget that."

"Thanks," he finally answered. "I just wish things could have been different."

"How so?"

"I never realized until today just how much I miss my dad. Still miss him. After… when everything was over today, I came home and he was everywhere I looked in this house. I kept going over everything in my head. That's why I was on the beach with a bottle of Makers."

"To forget?" she asked quietly.

"No… just the opposite. To remember. And to toast Dad and his friends."

"That's very sweet," she said, watching him yawn again. She moved her hand from his face down to his chest and began rubbing circles on his bare skin. She could feel him relaxing into the bed and against her.

He didn't say anything else and she stole a glance, seeing his eyelashes flutter, then lie on his cheeks.

Catherine waited a moment longer, before whispering, "You are a good man, Steve McGarrett. One I am proud to know."