They left Kono in Malia's competent care, and raced back to the palace. Finally, a lead on Lassiter, but with a rapidly closing window of opportunity to act quickly enough to have any hope of finding Valerie Keon alive.
Jax was quickly restocking her medic bag and pockets of her clean pants. Steve had installed a cabinet just outside the armory, and persuaded the governor to allot a generous budget for supplies - many of which were ordered through military supply, not civilian emergency services. There was a running joke among the team regarding Jax's absolute delight with the arrangement, and even now, she was humming quietly as she selected fresh packets of gauze and hefted a new pair of bandage shears in her hand.
"When you order those, do you think about how well they work as a weapon?" Steve asked, stepping up soundlessly behind her. She jumped slightly, and put the shears carefully in the bag.
"Don't sneak up on a girl with razor sharp medical equipment in her hand, McGarrett," she said. Her attempt at a lighthearted tone fell short of disguising the sudden tension in her body language.
"Sorry," Steve murmured, wrapping his hands easily around her slight shoulders. "I don't mean to startle you."
Jax sighed. "Not your fault. And yes; everything in my bag is a potential weapon as well as a potential life-saving device. You'd be surprised at how many times it's a TAC medic who gets sent in, undercover as a civilian EMS, to a hostage situation. These are really nice. I hope my other pair gets recovered from the scene."
"I think Max might be able to recover them for you," Steve said. "That was quick thinking tonight. Gutsy move."
"Did what needed to be done," Jax said, shrugging.
Steve gently stroked the side of her head where a graze had parted through her hair, leaving a nasty wound behind. She flinched just slightly, but smiled up at him.
"Yeah, I hope you liked the haircut I had when I first got to the island," she said.
"I love your hair, no matter what you do to it," Steve said. "Well, not so much the black, though that had its own appeal . . . but I'm just . . . God, Jax, I can't believe my shot grazed you." He tilted her head to the side, seemingly fascinated with the injury.
"Look at me," Jax demanded, and he reluctantly met her determined gaze. She could see concern and guilt flooding his expression. "First of all, we don't know that it was your shot. It could have been a ricochet; or it could have been Caviness. Don't know, don't care. It was dark and all hell was breaking loose."
Steve was silent, his hands still moving gently through her hair.
"Have you ever been involved in a friendly fire incident, Steve?" she asked seriously. "Is that what this is about?"
"I have, but no," Steve said. "The situations were completely different."
"Then let me make something clear," she said, her eyes flashing, "if you need to shoot me - flat out, full on, take the clean shot shoot me - in order to save my life, or someone else's, you do it, yeah? And this?" she added, gesturing to her head, "this is nothing, babe. It's a scratch."
His hand continued to move gently over her, taking inventory of her injuries.
"They're all just scratches," she said, cupping his face tenderly in her hands. "I'm fine." But she flinched as his hand grazed over the bruising on her windpipe, and over the swollen and rapidly purpling bruise on her cheekbone and temple.
"I can't keep you safe," he murmured. "I thought maybe . . . maybe if you were with Five-O, I could protect you."
"People flew airplanes into buildings, right above my head," she said, her eyes haunted. "Glass and concrete and rebar fell out of the sky like rain." Steve's hand automatically went to the scar on her side; a constant, sometimes aching reminder of that day. "I dodged falling bodies."
"Ku'uipo," Steve whispered, pulling her closer to him. She'd rarely spoken so bluntly about her experience.
"I don't expect you to keep me safe, or protect me," she whispered. "That's asking the impossible. You can't make any promises in a world where people fly airplanes into buildings."
"Then what do I do, Jax?" Steve asked desperately. "Do I watch everyone I care about get hurt, over and over and over again?"
"Yeah," she said, "That's what happens, when we have this . . . this gift, or this curse, that makes us run in when everyone else is running out."
He bent and kissed her, his lips ghosting over the cuts and bruises scattered on her cheeks, her neck, her collarbone. He finally caught her lips in gentle desperation, and kissed her like he was drowning and she was oxygen.
"If I can't promise to keep you safe, Jax, what do I do?" he asked again, frantically searching her eyes for an answer.
"Promise to do your best to stay alive. Promise to try your hardest not to leave me," she said. She reached up and kissed him back with equal fervor, her fingers pressing into the solid muscle of his biceps and pressing him back against the cabinet with a strength that belied her tiny frame.
Steve nodded, not breaking their kiss, and slid slightly down the cabinet to minimize the difference in their height. Jax hummed in approval as she no longer had to stretch up to kiss him, which she did with renewed intensity until his hand brushed too closely over one of the recent cuts, and she bit back a sharp sound of pain.
He trailed the backs of his fingers softly over the injury. "I'm so sorry ku'uipo," he whispered. His fingers once again traced over the bruises on her face, and his thumb smoothed over the familiar scar on her hip. The exact location was memorized and he could find it, unerringly, regardless of layers of gear. "God, you are so beautiful," he murmured.
Jax rolled her eyes. "In the middle of the armory, black and blue, held together with stitches and surgical glue," she commented skeptically. "In the middle of a serial killer case," she added.
"In the middle of anything and everything," Steve said honestly. "Always. You're always beautiful to me." His voice lowered another register. "In the middle of everything, always, I always want you."
"Yeah?" she said, her voice another dimension of raspy that had nothing to do with the bruising.
"Yeah," he said, nodding.
Use your words. Say the words, his brain demanded.
"I told you they'd be down here," came Danny's voice from around the corner. "Good Lord in heaven, Steven, you'd better be fully clothed and decent or so help me . . . I know guns and military grade medical supplies do it for both of you, but we've got a serial killer to catch. Chop chop."
Steve groaned and kissed Jax on the top of the head as Danny appeared.
"Oh, don't bother, your shirts are untucked, Jax's color is better than I've seen since Halawa - actually, it is nice to see come color in your cheeks, babe, even if Steve did put it there - and Jax's hair . . . " Danny muttered, grabbing some extra clips.
"What's wrong with my hair?" Jax demanded.
"Honey, your hair is an event under normal circumstances," Grover said, as he grabbed a case of shotgun shells, "but there is a very distinctive style called "McGarrett's had his hands all up in it" which you sport on a regular basis. Such as now."
Jax scowled and grabbed an old HPD SWAT ball cap from her cabinet and shoved it on her head, muttering darkly. "Fine. I have to get a haircut now anyway."
"Oh, that asymmetrical cut you had when you first got here would work," Danny commented, tightening the straps on the third vest he'd pulled off the shelf this week. "Especially now, with the highlights you've picked up from surfing."
Steve, Chin, and Grover stopped dead in their tracks and stared at him.
"What?" Danny said. "I have sisters and a pre-teen daughter. I know these things. Hey, is that why you had that cut to begin with? One of your fellow officers shot you in the head?"
Steve glared at Danny. "We don't know that it was my shot, Danny," he said.
Chin decided the better part of valor would be to derail their bickering before it escalated. "Okay, how about we go catch Lassiter and then all go home for a much-deserved rest?"
#*#*#*#*#
Charlie and his team of lab technicians had worked around the clock to determine the source of the grit embedded in the sole of the prison issue slip on. They'd narrowed it down to the distinct pebbles found on Ma'ili, and the team was now rushing toward the leeward coast as the sun appeared over the horizon.
Any idea of stealth or additional surveillance was abandoned; it was a simple race against the clock, and they were desperately hoping to find Valerie Keon alive. This was their only lead, and their plan was simple: find Valerie, stop Lassiter.
"How many open cases are linked to Lassiter?" Steve had asked Caviness, as they'd briefly looked over the most likely places where he would be holding Valerie.
"You're asking if I need him alive, in order to help identify other victims," Caviness had replied. "Yeah, probably. The FBI would probably appreciate that."
"The FBI isn't here," Steve had said, and it hadn't escaped Caviness' attention that when giving instructions to their teams, neither of them had made any mention of taking Lassiter into custody.
Marshals Polinski and Shelton, for all their quiet demeanor, had impressed the team during the stand-off at the abandoned sugar mill. Danny had worked with officers like this his entire career; quiet, unassuming, but completely and totally unflappable and dependable under pressure.
"This is not the time for us to learn our way around the island," Polinski said. "We transferred as a unit with Caviness; we're still a bit unfamiliar with some of the outlying areas."
Chin looked up at the comment. "You followed him to Hawaii? From where?"
"New Mexico," Shelton answered. "We had the option to continue working with Caviness or move to a new team." The two marshals slipped into the back of Grover's SUV, as Jax carefully and gingerly eased her aching body into the passenger seat. For once, she wasn't going to argue with Grover for the keys.
Chin glanced toward Caviness, who was quietly gearing up at the back of his Jeep. Caviness looked up and caught his glance.
"My partner is in the hospital," Chin said. "Care to ride shotgun?"
The slightly stricken look on Caviness' face amused Chin. Perhaps 'shotgun' had been a poor choice of words. Nonetheless, Caviness was headed his way, his long stride easily eating up the space between their vehicles.
"Thanks," he said, putting a rifle case in the back of Chin's SUV.
"So," Chin said, once they were speeding down the highway, "Kono said something about a fourth date . . . "
Caviness briefly calculated the risk of taking a rolling dive out of the car.
#*#*#*#*#
"I'm surprised you didn't make Jax stand down on this one," Danny said, as they sped away from the city.
"Calculated risk," Steve said, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. "We've got one suspect, three marshals, five of us. Jax is a medic on this one."
"You could have called a SWAT medic," Danny observed. "Jax would have threatened to neuter you, but still."
"HPD SWAT doesn't currently have a female medic," Steve said quietly. "Based on Lassiter's file . . . I'm not sure what we're going to find."
"Wow, you thought all of that through during your little make-out session in the armory?" Danny quipped, his eyes twinkling.
"I can multi-task," Steve said smugly.
#*#*#*#*#
Caviness had pinpointed an abandoned farm, adjacent to the coastline, as Lassiter's most likely choice of location. The area was deserted, well away from the quiet beaches that the locals enjoyed, and carefully marked against trespassing. Law abiding citizens would have no reason to stumble upon his activities.
The three vehicles pulled up, lights flashing, and parked just outside the makeshift fenceline. They were more exposed than either Steve or Caviness would have liked, but if they had any chance of recovering Valerie Keon alive, moving in quickly and with a show of force was their best option.
Caviness scanned the area quickly as the rest of the team readied their weapons. He pointed to a small barn, leaning dangerously on its foundation, and they moved toward it, with Steve and Caviness taking point.
Everyone froze at the sound of a faint whimper coming from the barn.
"Your team covers us," Steve said quietly to Caviness, who nodded agreement.
The three marshals faced outward from the barn as the Five-O members crept quietly toward it. Reaching the door, Steve gave a quick series of hand signals to the rest of the team, and they fell into flawless formation. Within seconds, they were in the barn.
"Clear," they each said in turn, as they cleared their designated corners, letting their eyes adjust to the dimmer light.
The sound of another agonized whimper caught Jax's attention, and she holstered her weapon and pulled her backpack off her shoulders, wincing as it caught her stitches and the new injuries.
"Cover me," she said quietly. It was always a risk, holstering your weapon, but in this moment she was a medic first, and she trusted the guys to have her back. She moved quietly toward the far corner of the barn, Grover just a step behind her.
Grover gasped as they came upon a filthy mattress shoved in the corner, a woman chained to the wall behind it.
"Valerie," Jax said softly.
"Y-yes," came the hoarse reply. "Run . . . go get help . . . h-he's coming back."
"We've got her," Grover called back quietly to the others.
"Valerie, that is so brave of you," Jax said, kneeling next to her, "but help is already here. You're safe now, okay? My team will keep you safe, you don't have to worry. How many people were holding you here?" Jax tenderly pulled Valerie's tattered robe more snugly around her body.
"J-just the one man," Valerie said. "I tried to get away, I t-tried, but . . . "
"Shhh," Jax soothed. She pulled at the chain secured to the wall, knowing that checking for injuries and bleeding really should be the first priority, but unable to overcome the overwhelming urge to free Valerie from her constraints.
Valerie seemed to agree, and yanked weakly against the cuffs on her wrists.
Steve recognized the urgency and near-panic in both of their movements. He'd seen it before and understood the compulsion. Pulling a slim kit from one of his many pockets, he knelt next to Jax and selected a slim metal pick, and within seconds the heavy cuffs were off Valerie's wrists.
Jax threw them aside with a vehemence that raised an alarm in Steve's mind, and he briefly looked to Danny, whose eyes reflected his own concern. But Jax moved on quickly, focusing her attention completely on Valerie.
"There, that's better, yeah?" Jax murmured. "Okay, Valerie, can we tell these guys where they might find the man who's been holding you here? And then they're going to go take care of him, while I take care of you. Is that okay?" She pulled a water bottle out of her bag, and gave Valerie a careful sip. She swallowed with difficulty, her throat and neck swollen and bruised.
"I don't know where he goes," Valerie whispered. "He goes away, and then he comes back . . . he always comes back." Her voice broke.
"Well, he's not coming back anymore," Jax said firmly. She glanced around the littered scene, her eyes falling on a simple pair of cotton panties that had been flung to the side, off the mattress. She tilted her head at them, and then closed in on Valerie's field of vision as Grover discreetly collected them and put them in an evidence bag. Her jaw tightened and Steve put a hesitant hand on her shoulder.
"You okay?" he whispered.
"I've got it," she whispered back, nodding.
He squeezed her shoulder gently. 'Got it' was definitely not the same as 'okay' but it would get them through the day.
"Danny," he said quietly, "stay and cover Jax and our survivor. We're going after Lassiter."
Steve handed Danny an extra rifle and clip. With one loaded glance, Danny understood his instructions perfectly, and he nodded at Steve.
Steve, Chin, and Grover stepped carefully outside and joined the marshals.
"Steve," Grover said, "Jax is . . . this is . . . "
"I know," Steve said. "Danny's watching her. He's got it covered."
"If Lassiter shows his face in there," Caviness started.
"Yep, Danny's on it. He'll shoot first and ask questions later," Steve finished.
"Did I miss a discussion?" Caviness wondered.
"With Steve and Danny . . . " Chin shrugged. "If you blink, you've missed it. I'm thinking we start here, move in a grid pattern toward the shoreline."
Steve nodded, and they started searching for any evidence of Lassiter.
#*#*#*#*#
Danny stood a few feet away from the corner; angled to cover both the door and a small opening in another corner of the deteriorating barn. His back was turned to Jax and Valerie, but he could hear the slow, quiet murmur of Jax's voice as she painstakingly cleaned and bandaged the lacerations and burns that covered Valerie's body. One cut in particular was deep, and vicious, and Jax sprayed it with a topical anesthetic before she cleaned it gently and wrapped it in clean gauze.
"Do I need to call a bus?" Danny asked quietly.
"Yes, but have them on standby," Jax said. "The scene technically isn't secure until we have him in custody."
"Do you know who did this?" Valerie asked. "You're searching for him now?"
Jax nodded. "Yes. Let us worry about it, okay? Danny and I are going to stay right here with you. As soon as it's safe, there will be an ambulance here to take you to the hospital, and we'll call your family to meet us there."
Tears streamed down Valerie's cheeks at the mention of her family.
"I know, it's overwhelming," Jax said, gently wiping the tears away with a soft gauze pad. "You're going to be okay, Valerie. Someone will be with you every step of the way, and then your parents will be there, and you can call any of your friends to come be with you."
Danny's heart sank. Jax hadn't had any of those things when she'd been attacked in New York. Her parents had fled the scene years before, and he was in Hawaii at the time, completely oblivious to what had happened. Jax had never mentioned any other friends in New York, and when he'd packed up her apartment, he hadn't found any evidence that anyone, even her roommate, had been close to her. No wonder she had jumped on the first available flight to Hawaii.
"They're going to need to do a kit, aren't they?" Valerie whispered. "I know they need to . . . collect evidence."
Jax stopped what she was doing and held Valerie's hand. "There are two options," she explained gently. "You can just be evaluated and treated for your injuries. Or, evidence can be collected along with that process, so that charges can be filed. You don't have to decide that right now; and whatever you decide, someone will stay with you the whole time."
"Will you stay with me?" Valerie asked.
Jax didn't answer directly. "I promise, you won't be alone, Valerie."
"Please," Valerie pleaded, her voice breaking. "Please, will you stay with me?"
"Okay," Jax soothed. "I will. I'll stay with you."
Danny's hand tightened on his rifle as gunshots broke the silence of the early morning, and Valerie cringed in fear.
"Valerie, look at me," Jax said quietly. "What you hear is the sound of us getting one step closer to getting you out of here."
#*#*#*#*#
Martin Lassiter had gone to the shoreline to fuel up and stock the boat that would have carried Valerie's body to Kahoolawe. On his way back to carry out his horrific plans, he'd caught a glimpse of the six armed officers steadily bearing down in his direction, and ducked behind a rocky outcropping.
At this point, even with the odds of six to one, Lassiter had an advantage: a veritable arsenal stashed in the cave-like structure afforded by the rocks. He had cover, and he wasn't likely to run out of ammunition any time soon.
The first volley of gunfire caught the marshals and Five-O team off-guard, and they dove for cover.
"What the hell?!" Grover exclaimed.
"That's automatic rifle fire," Steve said, looking at Caviness. "There was no mention of him using automatic weapons in the file."
"We've never found evidence of automatic weapons," Caviness said.
A whistling sound, followed by an explosion of sand and dirt just behind him, had them all flat on their faces covering their heads.
"What was that?" Chin asked, shaking his head to clear the ringing in his ears.
"That was a grenade," Steve said incredulously. "Oh, hell no, two can play that game." He reached into one of his pockets and retrieved a grenade. Nodding to Chin to cover him, he stood up from behind the small tractor where he'd taken cover, and expertly lobbed the grenade toward the rocks.
Steve's satisfaction at the small explosion and shower of rocks was cut short by an even louder whistling sound, followed by the tractor in front of him exploding into a cloud of shrapnel. Only his combat experience and reflexes had him turned and curled in on himself in enough time to let his vest take the brunt of the damage. He stayed flat on the ground, the wind knocked completely out of him, until Chin and Caviness grabbed him by his vest and dragged him behind more cover. Both teams had hunkered down behind a feed bin, but it wouldn't provide protection for long.
"Okay, now we have a problem," Steve panted, pulling a sharp piece of metal out of the back of his shoulder. Thankfully, it had deflected off his vest, but it stung, and he was royally pissed off. "That was an RPG, and it's conceivable that an RPG could reach the barn."
"We can't let that happen," Chin said.
"No we can not. Caviness, you and I are going to flank him while everyone else keeps him busy," Steve said. Caviness bumped his fist solidly and moved two clips to the front of his vest for easy access. As the rest of the teams moved around, popping off random cover fire from as many different angles as possible, Steve and Caviness crept in opposite directions, moving behind and beside their target.
#*#*#*#*#
"Danny," Jax pleaded. She wasn't entirely sure what she was begging Danny to do - go find Steve, let her go find Steve, or just make everything stop and be okay.
"Babe, I know this is one of the hardest things you've ever been asked to do, but we hold here, okay? Have faith, kid."
"Danny, that's automatic weapon fire and explosions," Jax said quietly. She had given Valerie pain medication and a mild sedative, in preparation for moving her to the ambulance and transporting her to the hospital.
"I know," Danny said. "Look, I'm worried too. We've called for backup. Until we hear from Steve otherwise, we stay put. C'mere." Danny held out his arms and Jax leaned against him as he hugged her gently, mindful of her injuries. He felt her take a shuddering breath, and he kissed the top of her head, stroking her hair. In the next instant, he felt as though she was physically rearranging her molecular structure, and she squared her shoulders and pulled away from him.
"I need to check Valerie's IV," she said, her voice flat and emotionless, as she turned away from him.
"Jax, babe, don't do that," Danny pleaded. "I know this case . . . this is the first case like this you've handled since New York. It's natural for it to be hell for you. Don't try to shut off your feelings."
"I have a critical patient and it sounds like a stand-off out there, Danny," Jax said. "My feelings have no place here."
"Jax," Danny started, but she turned and looked at him. Just a glance, before she looked away, but the flash of raw anguish was enough to shock him into silence.
"Just don't, Danny, please," she whispered, her hands clenched so tightly that Danny was afraid she would split the skin over her knuckles.
"Okay, Jax, okay," Danny sighed, and he resumed looking anxiously through the doorway for any indication of what hell was breaking loose outside.
#*#*#*#*#
Steve and Caviness were in position. There was no way to know if Lassiter was unaware of their positions slightly behind and to his sides, or if he was just busy returning fire and hadn't acknowledged them yet.
"US Marshals," Caviness shouted. "Martin Lassiter, give it up. We're taking you into custody."
Lassiter turned toward Caviness, raising his weapon to fire at him. Steve fired off three quick rounds, and Lassiter fell forward, his automatic rifle spraying off several more wild rounds, obscuring Caviness in a cloud of sand and rock.
Steve yelled for the others to cover Caviness, as he rushed forward to ensure that Lassiter was subdued. As Steve knelt to put his knee in Lassiter's back, the man suddenly wrenched himself sideways, his leg striking out and catching Steve with a punishing impact to his ribcage. Still slightly winded from the explosion, Steve once again found himself gasping for air and slightly stunned. It was enough of an opening for Lassiter to grab a handgun and point it at Steve.
Chin watched in horror as, for one terrifying moment, it looked like Lassiter had Steve at gunpoint. But then Chin noticed Steve's SIG firmly gripped in his hand, pointing at Lassiter as well.
"Go ahead, Lassiter, take the shot," Steve said calmly.
There was a deafening sound of two guns firing at close range, as Chin and Grover stood, their own weapons trained on Lassiter. They could hear Polinski and Shelton behind them, trying to determine how badly Caviness was injured.
Time seemed to stand still for a split second, and then Lassiter's body was falling back, and Steve was standing over him.
"Clear," Steve said quietly, stepping over the body. "Caviness?" he asked.
"Rock fragment caught his shoulder just at the edge of the vest; looks like he may have fractured his wrist breaking his fall," Polinski said. "We'll get him back to your medic. Looks like you could do with a once-over yourself."
Steve looked down, not sure what Polinski was talking about. Rivulets of blood were running down his muscled forearms and dripping steadily onto the pebbles below. Chin came up behind him and gave a low whistle.
Steve craned his neck around to see what the problem was.
"Ow," he said, as the twisting motion made sharp pains shoot through his shoulders and arms, where the vest had not blocked the bits of tractor.
"Yeah, ow," Grover agreed. "I would, ah, try to hold still there, McGarrett, until Jax can get you fixed up."
Steve grinned at Grover. As far as Steve was concerned, there was never a bad reason to have Jax's small, capable hands on his body.
"You people are unbalanced," Grover muttered, shaking his head as they all trudged back toward the barn.
Steve paused at the small arsenal tucked into the rock formation at the edge of the shoreline. His eyes landed on the crate which had contained the RPG.
"Son of a bitch," he swore quietly, and Chin appeared at his side.
"What is it, Steve?" Chin asked.
Steve pointed at a small emblem embossed on the crate. He would recognize it anywhere; he'd chased it for months all over Afghanistan.
"The Novak family crest," he said in disbelief.
#*#*#*#*#
"Here they come," Danny said.
"All of them?" Jax asked, her heart in her throat.
"All of them," Danny confirmed. "Looks like Caviness got hit, but he's on his feet. Super SEAL, as usual, is covered in blood and dirt." Jax grabbed two rustic stools and shoved them from the corner of the barn to just outside the door.
"Whatever Danny," Steve said, as he and Caviness gratefully sank onto the stools where Jax pointed, her eyebrows arched at them, daring them to argue with her.
Steve liked this arrangement, it put him right at eye level with Jax's beautiful emerald eyes. Which were currently filled with a swirl of emotion that he couldn't quite pin down: fear, uncertainty . . . pain.
Not good . . . she's not okay, his brain flashed out in warning.
"You okay?" he asked quietly, pausing her efficient movements with a gentle hand on her hip, his thumb brushing over the scar beneath her cargo pants.
"I'm better now," she answered honestly, but she avoided his gaze. She plopped her medic bag unceremoniously on Steve's lap, trusting him to hold it steady for her while she helped Polinski and Shelton carefully remove Caviness' tac vest and shirt.
She wrapped soft gauze around Caviness' shoulder. "This fragment should be removed at the hospital; I don't think it hit anything vital. Looks like you might have to wait on asking Kono for surfing lessons for a while, though, because this wrist is going to need at least a hard splint," she said, sympathetically. "What the hell went on out there; it sounded like Armageddon."
"Lassiter was well-armed," Caviness said, with a lopsided shrug.
"By Novak," Steve added grimly, shaking his head. "I can't even sort this out right now; my ears are still ringing. We'll have the tech team bag and tag every single piece of evidence on this beach."
Jax was using a pair of forceps to carefully remove the shards of metal from Steve's shoulders and arms.
"All of these cuts will have to be cleaned, and maybe one or two could use surgical glue," Jax said, collecting her bag from Steve, still avoiding looking him in the eyes. "I need to get back to Valerie; make sure she's ready for transport."
He stood to follow her, and then stopped short and stood next to Danny.
"How bad, Danny?" he asked quietly, so that only Danny could hear.
"Valerie Keon or Jax?" Danny murmured, then shrugged. Didn't matter, the answer was the same. "Bad. She made Jax promise to stay with her. You know, through the whole thing. At the hospital."
"Shit," Steve said, patting Danny on the shoulder, and then following Jax into the barn.
"Send the medics in here when the bus gets here, please," Jax said. Her voice was level and efficient, but with a tonelessness that sent a tendril of cold dread curling up Steve's spine. "I want to give them the report in here, not out there in front of the teams. Preserve what I can of Valerie's dignity."
"Jax," Steve said helplessly.
"He's not in custody, is he? Lassiter," Jax said.
"No."
"There's no ambulance coming for him?" She kept her back turned to him as she asked; her shoulders a stiff, straight line.
"Coroner."
Jax nodded in satisfaction as Valerie stirred and whimpered.
"Valerie, it's okay. You're safe," Jax said, tucking a blanket around her. "The ambulance is almost here, and we're going to ride to the hospital."
"You're going with me?" Valerie asked anxiously.
"Yes, I'm going with you," Jax assured her.
"Did they find him? Did they find the man?" Valerie whispered. "Is he coming back?"
"He is never coming back," Jax said, with a quiet intensity that made her voice almost unrecognizable to Steve. "He is never going to hurt you or anyone else, ever again."
"Jax?" Steve tried again.
"Steve, I think I hear the ambulance; could you check?" There was no hint of anger or impatience in her voice; but Steve thought he would have preferred that to the toneless resignation.
He quietly slipped back outside and stood next to Danny in the mid-morning sun, and waited for the ambulance.
#*#*#*#*#
Malia ran an efficient emergency department, and there were three teams and three rooms ready and waiting for them as they arrived, in turn, at Queens. Normally, Steve would have had nothing but appreciation for the almost military precision, but today, he was frustrated. Valerie Keon, along with Jax, had been swept quickly and quietly into a treatment room at the end of the hall, before Steve could even catch a glimpse of her.
"She's gonna be okay, Steve," Danny said sympathetically, as Steve fidgeted on a narrow treatment bed. Given his frequent injuries and high pain threshold, it wasn't unusual for Malia to turn him over to interns who needed to sign off on skills, and today was no exception. "Would you sit still?"
"Yes, please, Commander McGarrett," the fresh-faced intern asked.
Steve turned to glare at her, and she put her hands on her hips and glared right back. Well, damn, Malia knew how to pick them.
"Sorry," Steve muttered, turning back around and sitting quietly. Danny could feel the tension radiating from him, but at least he wasn't tormenting the poor intern, and she quickly finished, patting a final bandage into place over one of the larger lacerations.
"I'll go get a report on Marshal Caviness for you," she suggested, beating a hasty retreat from the room.
"I didn't even - Danny, she wouldn't even look at me. What the hell happened in there?" Steve demanded, snagging the shirt that Danny tossed at him and yanking it over his head. "Ow."
"Steve . . . " Danny sighed. "You're gonna have to be patient. You can't shoot this; you can't shove this at me and tell me to book it."
"Danny," Steve said quietly. "I'm going in blind, here. She visibly reacted to the cuffs and restraints. There wasn't anything in the NYPD report about restraints, was there?"
"No. There wasn't. Who the hell knows what was left out of the report."
"What else, Danny?"
"She kept assuring Valerie that she wouldn't be alone. Over and over; kept telling her that her family would be with her, that someone would be with her every minute - from leaving that god-forsaken barn, to the hospital, to going home. With her parents. Her family. Jax seemed to know that was the one thing that could somehow make this bearable for Valerie."
"Shit."
"Yeah. The one thing Jax didn't have in New York. Days, Steve. Days, before she snuck out of the hospital and hopped a plane to come find me. Not one record of a visitor; aside from IA coming to serve charges against her."
"Shit."
"You've said that already."
A knock on the door interrupted their despondent conversation, and Malia poked her head in.
"Ms. Keon is going to be taken to a regular room soon. May I suggest you go get some food, and good coffee, and bring some back for Jax?" she said. "Marshal Caviness is all set; I believe he's going up to check on Kono," she added, smiling delightedly.
#*#*#*#*#
Brian Caviness wasn't sure how fracturing his wrist and having a fragment of rock dangerously close to his rotator cuff could feel lucky, but as he shoved his prescription bag into his backpack and stepped off the elevator on Kono's floor, it somehow did.
Confirming her room number at the nurse's station, he found it and softly knocked on the door.
A slight, gentle looking man opened the door, holding his finger to his lips. Kono was sleeping soundly, an oxygen mask over her face.
"Hello," Caviness said awkwardly. "I'm Marshal Caviness; I've been working with Kono's team these last few days. I just wanted to check . . . but I see she's sleeping. I'll go."
"No, no, it is okay. I need to get back to her mother, but we learned from Kono's knee injury that she very much dislikes waking up alone in the hospital. I was expecting Chin Ho, but I understand you all had a very busy morning."
"Yes, sir . . . Mr. Kalakaua? Yes, it was a busy morning. There is a scene to secure. I got sent home early," he said, indicating his splint and sling. "I would be honored to sit with Kono. With your permission, of course."
Mr. Kalakaua studied Caviness for a moment, and nodded in approval. "She does not like to wake up alone," he repeated.
"I will see to it that she doesn't, sir," Caviness said. He settled into the recliner to wait.
#*#*#*#*#
Steve had settled on coffee as the best strategy available to him. Jax loved coffee; as evidenced by that adorable little sigh of happiness and contentment when she was handed a cup. It wasn't his favorite little sigh of hers, but it was close. Coffee, guns, and hard-core medical supplies . . . this situation definitely called for coffee.
They stepped back onto the ER wing, and Malia's favorite nurse, Julia, motioned for them.
"Jax is in Suture Suite 3," she said. "Dr. Waincroft said to bring you back."
"Suture?" Danny asked, worried.
"She pulled just a couple of stitches jumping out of the back of the ambulance today," Julia said. "That's going to be easily fixed . . ." her voice trailed off hesitantly. "She's . . . well, she's had a hard day, obviously. She was an amazing help to Ms. Keon."
Julia knocked softly on the door, and tilted her head inside. "Commander McGarrett and Detective Williams are here," she said. "With coffee," she added.
Steve stepped into the room; the lights were dimmed, except for the strong light which Malia had focused on Jax's leg, which was sticking out from under a cocoon of blankets. Her cheeks were pale beneath the smattering of freckles across her nose, and the recent bruising stood out in sharp relief. It brought him back to her first night on the island; she'd appeared in his kitchen, holding out gauze pads and a tube of antibiotic cream, covered in bruises, and triggering every protective strand of his DNA.
That was then, and this was now. And now, they were sharing a career, a life, a bed. From the minute he'd met her, Steve had thought Jax was really something. Now . . . now he realized that she was everything. It scared the living shit out of him. He'd never known how much he stood to lose.
"Hey," she said. "Coffee?" She dropped her eyes quickly, twisting her fingers in the blanket, but not before Steve had caught the flash of the one thing he most desperately needed to see in that moment: trust. And he knew, whatever had been dredged up in the barn that day, they'd deal with it, somehow.
"Yeah," he said, smiling. He handed her the cup carefully, his long fingers brushing against her strong, compact hands. His hand slid to the back of her head, and he kissed her auburn curls gently.
"You're okay? How's Caviness?" she asked. One hand clutched her coffee, the other twisted in the blanket, and she kept her eyes fixed on Malia's painstaking repair of the torn stitches. But her voice, while shaky, was no longer frighteningly toneless, and Steve let out a silent exhale of relief.
"I'm fine, ku'uipo," he answered softly. "The intern that fixed me up said that Caviness had his shoulder stitched up, and his wrist splinted. It was fractured, not broken."
"There you go, Jax," Malia said. "Honey, please try not to tear these out. I think we've still minimized the scarring but let's not push it, okay?" She smoothed a clean bandage over the stitches.
"Okay, Malia," Jax said. "Thank you. I can go home now?" she added, hopefully.
"Yes. We'll clear out and let you get sorted, and then you can go home," Malia said. She gestured for Steve and Danny to clear the room, and closed the door quietly behind them.
Steve and Danny both looked at Malia anxiously.
"Jax is a remarkably strong young woman," Malia said. "Her day with Ms. Keon was undeniably traumatic, but you wouldn't have known it to watch her in action. However, even Jax has her limits, and once Ms. Keon was settled in her private room, Jax experienced a drop in blood pressure and some other symptoms of traumatic shock. While I'm sorry that she tore some stitches, the damage was minimal, and it gave her a graceful way to accept some simple comfort measures: warm blankets, a quiet room."
"Coffee," Steve added.
"Yes," Malia smiled, "coffee seems to always be welcome. Look, guys, Jax didn't offer any clues as to what, specifically, was most unsettling to her. I've read the very vague, superficial report from her own assault back in New York. No details - and this isn't unusual. She might have refused to give up any details, in an effort to maintain some sort of control of the situation. She might have been so severely concussed that she didn't remember many details. In either case, today may have forced her to confront some painful memories; possibly for the first time."
"So, what can we do to help?" Danny asked. No way was he letting his two best friends struggle through this alone. It just wasn't how he worked. Besides, those two needed someone who knew how to use their words. Loaded glances would only get them so far.
"There's no simple answer," Malia said. "For starters, your entire team needs to stand down for a minimum of forty-eight hours, Steven. Chin and Grover are the only team members uninjured at the moment. And as for Jax . . . " she sighed. "Follow your instincts. You've done well this far. She may not even know what she wants or needs - be patient. Unfortunately, in this sort of situation, setbacks like this are typical."
Jax came out of the treatment room; shoulders squared, head high. The only indication that all was not perfectly well with her was the blanket still wrapped firmly around her.
"I'm going up to check on Kono," she announced, as she walked past them to the elevator. "Be back in a few minutes."
Danny started to go after her, but Steve put a hand on his shoulder.
"Danny," he said quietly. "I'm pretty sure we weren't invited."
#*#*#*#*#
The nurse smiled at Jax as she came off the elevator.
"You're here to see Officer Kalakaua?" she guessed. "Come right this way. She may be sleeping but I know she would want you to stop in."
Jax tiptoed into Kono's room, smiling at the sight of Caviness, sound asleep in the recliner. Kono's eyes opened, and she grinned widely and gestured for Jax to come in the room.
"Hey, Kono, I didn't mean to wake you up," Jax whispered.
"I'm so tired of sleeping," Kono complained. "But the last time I woke up, there was a US Marshal in my room. So apparently nice things can happen while I'm asleep."
"I hope he's not here to protect you," Jax said, smirking. "Because he's doing a lousy job."
Kono laughed quietly. "I convinced him to take his own pain meds about thirty minutes ago. His wrist had to be killing him, and he was just exhausted. You're looking a little rough around the edges, there, girl." She hesitated. "Caviness said you treated Valerie Keon. Are you okay, Jax?"
Jax replied quickly. "Ms. Keon is settled with her family. Thanks to Steve and Caviness, there won't be a trial for her to deal with."
Kono shook her head. "Not what I asked. Jax - are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Jax waved her off, and then gestured toward the metal clipboard file at the end of the bed. "Hey, do you mind if I look at the notes on your chest tube? I want to see what they placed and how it's doing. And your CT; I know the first one came back clear, but they should be doing a repeat, just to be safe."
"Jax," Kono said again. She'd scooted over on the bed, and she patted the space beside her. "Put my chart down and come here."
Jax reluctantly replaced the chart and shuffled to Kono's bed, sitting down carefully. Kono tugged on her until she relaxed, resting her head next to Kono's on the pillow.
"Now, you wanna tell me again that you're fine?" Kono said quietly.
"I'm fine," Jax whispered. "Kono, please . . . really. I'm fine."
"You're a lying liar who lies," Kono whispered back.
Jax snorted out a half-laugh, half-sob. "You're a terrible friend."
Kono took her hand and held it tightly. "Please. I am a fantastic friend and you know it. You're not fine. But you will be. You have an ohana now, Jax."
Jax impatiently brushed away a tear that had escaped despite her best efforts, and nodded, not trusting her voice. It was nice, sitting here with Kono and Caviness. There was something nagging at the back of her mind about Caviness . . . oh yeah. Something Kono would like.
"So," Jax whispered. "Caviness . . . "
"Yeah," Kono whispered back. "What do you think?"
"I think," Jax said, yawning, "that I'm looking forward to hearing from you when you discover the ink."
"There's ink?" Kono said dreamily. "What? Where?"
"Sorry, patient confidentiality," Jax murmured sleepily. "You'll have to discover that on your own."
"You're a terrible friend," Kono protested. "Jax?" Kono craned her head around, trying to see if Jax had really fallen asleep.
"I think she's asleep," Caviness whispered, looking fondly at Kono.
"Oh, hey," Kono said, dimpling at him. "How's the pain?"
Caviness blinked at her. He hadn't gotten past the dimples yet. Wait, she said something about pain.
"You're in pain? I'll get the nurse," he offered.
Kono shook her head and smiled, then looked up as Steve and Danny quietly opened the door and looked in. She gestured for them to come in the room.
"Hey, guys," she said quietly.
"Kono, babe," Danny said, crossing the room and kissing her on the cheek. "How are you feeling?"
"Not bad," Kono said, holding up her hand attached to the IV. "They're giving me the good stuff."
Caviness looked up at Steve standing quietly next to him. "I don't know how you manage, man," Caviness said, nodding toward the two beautiful women in front of them. "My ability to concentrate would be seriously, seriously compromised."
"I'm a SEAL," Steve said, shrugging. "I compartmentalize."
"Sure," Caviness said. "That's why the two of them were able to render you completely speechless in the office the other day."
"Hey," Steve protested, "I'm still human. How's the arm?"
"Cracked, not broken," Caviness said. "Enough to warrant a couple of days off active duty."
"So you've assigned yourself protection detail?" Steve grinned. "You know we have all the guys in custody."
"Can't be too careful?" Caviness offered. "Wait, Chin's not allowed to bring that shotgun to the hospital, right?"
The sound of Steve's low laughter woke Jax, and her eyes flew open, startled and disoriented for just a moment. Kono squeezed her hand gently.
"Hoaloha, the boys are here to take you home," Kono said.
"Sorry," Steve said. "You didn't come back . . . "
"So Super SEAL decided to recon and retrieve," Danny supplied. "You ready to go?"
Jax nodded and stood, keeping the blanket wrapped around her. "See you tomorrow, Kono. Take it easy, Caviness," she added. "Don't forget to take all of the antibiotic. I don't even want to know what was growing on that rock."
The late afternoon sun had warmed the Camaro, and Jax slid wordlessly into the back seat. Steve didn't reach for the keys, for a change, so Danny had the rare privilege of driving his own car.
Jax snickered from the back seat as Danny adjusted the driver seat forward, and it was a welcome relief from some of the tension.
"Shut it, you," Danny groused, smiling at Jax in the rear view mirror. "Steve, did you want me to drop you off to get your truck?"
"It's out of the way," Steve said, leaning his head back against the seat. "I'll ask HPD to bring it to the house tomorrow. Let's just go home, yeah?"
#*#*#*#*#
By the time they arrived back at Steve's house, the sky had clouded and a gentle rain was falling. Jax simply pulled her blanket up over her head and wandered slowly up the front walk to the porch.
Danny got out of the Camaro and hesitated. "I guess I'll head on . . . " he said.
Steve and Jax both turned to him. "Stay, Danny," they said in unison. Danny grinned and grabbed his bag out of the trunk, then fell in next to Steve, and they followed Jax into the house.
"Dibs on the shower," she said, and trudged up the stairs, without looking back at them.
Steve sighed and headed toward the kitchen, Danny patting his shoulder sympathetically.
"I guess that's a clue that she wants a little space? Shit, Danny, I am out of my element here," Steve said. "What's . . . " he broke off, looking at the counter in confusion. A large collection of familiar Kamekona takeout containers were neatly stacked next to the sink, a delicious smell wafting from them.
Steve grabbed the note left on top of the containers. "I'm proud to have such a gifted officer and medic as my partner," Steve read. "Eat up, Nolan, I know it's been a rough couple days. Share some with Steve and Danny if you feel sorry for them. Grover."
"Aw, that's nice," Danny said. "I'm going to grab a quick shower before Jax uses all the hot water," he added, and headed off to the guest bathroom.
When he emerged, there was still no sign of Jax, and Steve was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up. Danny stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder, in companionable silence for a while.
"You look like you're contemplating breaching a fortress," Danny said, finally.
"I know how to do that," Steve said. "That would be easy."
They heard the shower turn off, and retreated hastily to the kitchen, aiming for nonchalance as they set the food and some Longboards out on the island. Jax padded into the kitchen, wearing sweats, her brother's old FDNY t-shirt, and wrapped in the same blanket that had apparently become her talisman against the evils of the world.
"Smells good," she said, sliding onto a stool. Steve handed her the note from Grover, and she read it, smiling. She took a long pull on her Longboard, swallowing past a sudden lump in her throat.
"Is there any hot water left?" Steve asked, smiling at her and tucking her damp curls behind her ear.
She nodded and ducked her head down, biting her lip. Steve risked tucking his fingers under her chin and tilting her head to look up at him. He rubbed his thumb gently over her lip until she smiled at him. "Maybe enough for one of your Navy showers," she said. "Sorry."
He shook his head. "I love having you here using up my hot water," he said. "I'll be right back. Go ahead, start eating. You know me, I'll catch up."
Danny pushed the carton of lemon pepper shrimp toward Jax. He knew it was her favorite.
"Thanks," she said, trying to ignore the funny feeling in her stomach that the smell of the food was prompting.
This is your favorite, she chided herself. Stop being such a baby and pull it together.
Pulling the blanket around her a little more snugly, she snagged a bite of rice. It was almost to her mouth when she realized that she was not going to win this fight. Dropping the chopsticks back into the takeout tray, she bolted from the kitchen, making a beeline for the bathroom.
Danny sighed and grabbed the blanket and followed her, wedging his foot in the door when she tried to slam it in his face.
"Danny," she protested weakly, turning and hovering over the toilet. "Just leave me alone."
"Not gonna happen, babe," he said evenly, standing over her and holding her hair back. There was little to nothing in her stomach, and she retched violently and dry heaved, until Danny winced in sympathy.
Finally, she stopped and leaned back against the cabinets, wrapping her arms around her legs and laying her head on her knees. Danny tucked the blanket around her and filled a small cup of water.
"Tiny sips," he instructed, handing it to her. She swished a mouthful around and spit it out, then took a few sips.
"Thanks," she muttered.
Danny slid down to the floor next to her, ignoring the twinge in his knee.
"I'm sure someone, at some point, warned you about this, prepared you for this, yeah?" Danny asked, rubbing the back of Jax's hand with a finger.
She nodded. "Not my first rodeo, Danny," she whispered. "I thought maybe this time would be easier, though."
"This time?" Danny questioned. He was pretty sure . . . but he had hoped maybe . . .
"Thought this time would be easier than, you know. After the first Rivera case."
Danny clenched his fists in anger. "That wasn't in the Rivera reports. No charges were filed against his men."
"Wasn't part of the case," Jax said wearily. "Jade was still a viable cover; and Jade would never have gone to the police or pressed charges. Jade wouldn't have even gone to the hospital."
Danny saw the faint shadow outside the bathroom door, knew that Steve was listening quietly.
"Jade didn't go to the hospital," Danny said softly. "She went over a bridge instead. And you wouldn't look at me, when I came to the hospital then. Just like you won't look at me and Steve today."
Jax shrugged and picked at a loose thread on the blanket. She was quiet for a long time, and Danny had almost decided to give up and suggest they get up off the floor. He saw Steve's shadow move just slightly, and then Jax spoke.
"Were there photos?"
"What, babe?" Danny said. He wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly.
"Were there photos? In my file. The report . . . after O'Neil," she repeated softly. Steve's shadow shifted more, and he opened the door carefully and slid down to the floor, joining Jax and Danny.
"There were," Steve answered, rubbing his finger over the back of her hand, much as Danny had done a few minutes earlier.
"When Valerie found out that Lassiter was dead, and that she didn't have to go through pressing charges, and a trial . . . we asked Marshal Shelton, and she said that Valerie didn't need to feel obligated to do photos. That it wasn't needed to help build a case against him. I couldn't remember . . . I didn't remember anyone asking me about photos," she said quietly.
"You had a severe concussion," Danny reminded her. "There's a lot you probably don't remember." He thought it was possible that photos had been taken without her permission, but he didn't trust himself to say that out loud.
"Oh, God," Jax groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Did the team see the photos?"
Steve pulled her hands away from her face gently. "No. No, ku'uipo." He held his breath, hoping that she wouldn't ask . . .
"You saw the photos," she said. "You and Danny."
"Some of them," Steve answered honestly. "Not nearly all. I closed the file. I could barely stand the idea of the injuries I could see for myself, in real life . . . I couldn't bring myself to . . . and it seemed like an invasion of your privacy."
Danny nodded in agreement. "Same here, babe."
"Jax," Steve continued, "NYPD sealed your file. Caviness pulled records on all of us, to see how vulnerable we were to a threat. He barely had any information from NYPD at all. Just that you were injured in the line of duty and decided to transfer to HPD."
Jax nodded. That seemed to make her feel better.
Steve was still idly tracing over her hand with his finger. As much as he longed to take her in his arms and hold her, he knew, from experience with her nightmares, that it might be a while before he could do that without spooking her. But this, she never seemed to mind. Maybe because it was a reminder of her battered and bruised knuckles; evidence that she dealt out plenty of hurt of her own to those who had dared attack her. His finger drifted down to her wrist and she inhaled sharply.
"What is it, ku'uipo?"
"There weren't any ligature marks," she said. Her voice was dispassionate, as if she were reviewing evidence for a case.
"I don't follow," Danny said.
"I don't remember . . . but there weren't ligature marks. I wasn't restrained?" she asked in confusion.
Steve looked at Danny carefully over the top of her head, which was bent down, studying her wrists. This was unsettling. Danny shrugged, his eyes full of alarm and concern.
"I don't remember there being marks on your wrists, Jax, if that's what you're asking," Steve answered slowly.
"That makes no sense," she said sharply. She stood easily, with a gracefulness that made Danny feel keenly the ten or so years he had on her, and stalked, cat-like, toward the kitchen.
Steve looked at Danny. "Okay, I got nothing, buddy, how about you?"
"I'm not even going to touch that one," Danny said. "Look, partner, you're the expert on combat PTSD, but I've had countless classes on post assault PTSD. Hate to say it, but this is pretty classic. Honestly, she's too strong for her own good. If she would just let go of that damn control for five minutes . . . "
"I know, Danno," Steve agreed. Danny looked at him side-eyed. Steve, Mr. Control Freak himself, was one to talk.
"Okay, I'll let that slide. Help me up, my knee is killing me," Danny complained.
#*#*#*#*#
Jax stood at the window, frustrated with the rain. She was exhausted, but not sleepy. Vaguely achey, but not in actual pain. Tired, but restless. A swim would have been nice, but stitches. Or a run, but rain. And stitches.
Stupid rain. Stupid stitches.
She let out a string of expletives that had even Danny raising his eyebrows.
"Sorry," she said.
Danny shrugged. "Hey, babe, you let it rip. No judgment. About anything."
"Can we go to the range tomorrow?" Jax wondered aloud. Her mood changes and subject changes would have been amusing, under other circumstances.
"Might be a good idea," Steve said. He could relate with the urge to shoot something.
"I think the last time I was here, I set the DVR . . . " Danny muttered, fumbling with the remote. "Aha! Hockey. Ranger vs Red Wings."
"Hell, yeah," Jax said, dragging her now ubiquitous blanket to the sofa. Steve shook his head. The blanket would have been amusing under any other circumstances, too, but now he was wondering if it would be hauled upstairs with her at the end of the night.
Danny hauled out two six packs and a bowl of pretzels from the kitchen and plopped them unceremoniously on the coffee table. Steve raised his eyebrows. They'd each already had a couple of beers with dinner.
"Look," Danny said, gesturing in his familiar fashion. "I'm usually the poster child for moderation, and dealing with problems appropriately, and all that. But enough. We all feel like shit. This was a horrible case, and it ended horribly, and it brought up all kinds of horrible stuff for Jax. And it's awkward and miserable and none of us know the hell what to do about it. So let's watch hockey, and drink maybe just a little too much, and trust that tomorrow will be better, okay? Tomorrow has to be better. And no one is driving. I'm not going home to my empty house, okay?"
"Okay, Danny," Jax said agreeably, patting the sofa cushion next to her. She tried to think of something helpful and normal to say. "Thanks for recording the hockey game," she said with a nod.
That was good, Danny thought. "You're welcome," he said, plopping down next to her. It was still awkward, as he tried to determine the appropriate amount of distance. That wasn't usually a problem. He grabbed a beer and a handful of pretzels.
Steve sat down on the other side of Jax, equally awkward. On the rare evenings that they vegged out in front of the TV, it usually started with snuggling and ended with a complex arrangement of tangled limbs and discarded clothing. Tonight, Jax was radiating a nervous energy and Steve didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do. It seemed inconsiderate to put his hands all over her, given what she'd been through today, what she'd had to relive . . . but his fingers itched to touch her, his arms felt useless and empty with not holding her.
He sat in awkward misery, pretending to watch the game while studying Jax's shallow breathing and the way she kept biting her lip and fidgeting with the blanket. The tension radiated off of them until Danny couldn't bear it, and he mumbled an excuse about going to call Gracie, and shoved off the sofa, walking quickly down the hallway.
"I'm sorry," Jax whispered. "I wish . . . I understand. It's too much to expect. I know you were standing outside the bathroom, I know you heard."
"Heard what, ku'uipo?" Steve asked, shifting on the sofa to try to look at her.
She shrugged, picking at the label on her Longboard. "The Rivera case. The first one."
"Jax, I'm so sorry," Steve said. "You'd never said, but you know, Danny and I . . . well, we wondered. You deliberately provoked them; made them turn on you so that young girl could get away . . . then there were things that Dillon Rivera said. I hate that you were made to believe that preserving your cover was that important, that it was worth . . . " he shook his head.
"I understand, Steve. Once is a fluke; twice is . . . " She shrugged again. "And the photos . . . God, I don't even . . . I understand."
"Okay, I don't. Understand. Jax, I don't understand what you're saying," Steve said softly.
"I understand why you don't want to touch me," she whispered. "It's okay."
"Wait, what?" Steve said, putting his beer down and turning sideways on the sofa, tucking one of his long legs up beneath him so that he could face her. "What? No, Jax." He ran a hand through his hair. This was not going well at all. "I'm so sorry . . . no, sweetheart, it's not that. God, it's not that. I want to hold you so bad, it's making me crazy."
"But you're not. You're very carefully not touching me, and I get it, I do. It's . . . horrible."
"No, Jax," he said firmly. "No, you being hurt, that's horrible. It's just . . . okay, when you have nightmares, I have to be really careful . . . you hit. Hard," he teased gently.
"Oh," she replied. "Oh! Because I don't know it's you. Sometimes I get . . . confused. You're not you, you're . . . someone else. For a few minutes." Steve didn't argue, he knew what it was like to have no sense of time. But he could think of several times when a 'few minutes' had been an agonizing hour.
"But you know it's me right now," he said, stroking her tousled curls, wincing at the sight of the graze above her ear, hidden by the tumble of hair until he moved it.
She nodded.
"And this is okay?" he asked, sliding his arm around her and pulling her gently into his side.
She nodded again and hesitantly rested her head on his shoulder. He waited patiently, brushing his fingers through her hair gently, until she pulled the blanket more firmly around her and relaxed.
"Hey," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Are you still cold?"
She nodded yet again, and shrugged. "Yeah," she said quietly.
He shifted a bit, so that she was snuggled against him, knee to shoulder, and wrapped his arm more closely around her. His fingers caressed the bandage on her arm. She marveled that the hands that could so be so dangerous could also be so impossibly tender.
"I am so, so sorry that I misread the situation, Jax," he said quietly. "I told you, in the armory: there's never a time - never - that I don't want to touch you, and hold you. No matter what. Nothing changes that, Jax."
Her breathing hitched. "I thought that maybe . . . maybe it was just too much." She pressed the heels of her hands violently into her eyes.
This can not be happening, she thought. Pull it together.
Danny came back into the living room, and took in the scene in front of him. Progress had been made on some fronts, obviously, because his friends were snuggled together - not in their usual eye-roll inducing public display of affection, which usually involved someone's hand on someone's ass, true, but Jax looked distinctly more comfortable, and Steve no longer had aneurysm face. But clearly, Jax was working way too hard to maintain control, and failing, from the looks of it.
"Jax, babe, tell us what we can do," Danny said, sitting on the edge of the coffee table and stroking her knee gently.
Steve looked perplexed, and helpless.
"You were right, Danny," Jax started, and Danny put his hands out in an 'of-course' gesture which brought a smile to her face. "Today sucked. Can we just sit here together, and pretend to watch hockey, even if I'm being all weird and all over the place? Because I feel like I'm going to crawl out of my skin, here, guys, and I'm freaking out a little. So I want to drink, and curse, and can we pretend it's because we're watching hockey?"
Danny was reasonably sure that Malia would not approve, but she wasn't here, so he ignored that little voice of disapproval.
"You got it, babe," he said, and handed their beers back to them, and they proceeded to do just that. When Jax let out a string of curse words at random intervals during the game, Steve and Danny cursed right along with her. If the names O'Neil and Rivera got mixed in with phrases like 'bad call' and 'stupid ref', well, blame that on the Longboards. When Steve felt her shoulders shake quietly with tears that she didn't understand and couldn't begin to explain, he simply held her until it stopped and kissed her head. And Danny wordlessly handed her tissues out of one box, and held an empty box to her to collect them when she was done.
After the hockey game, Danny collected all the empties, waving off Steve's half-hearted offer to help, and queued up one of the Lethal Weapon installments. He and Steve argued over which of them was Riggs and which was Murtaugh, until Danny noticed that Jax was sound asleep.
"She's down for the count, partner," Danny murmured, smiling fondly at Jax. He let out a shaky exhale. "Shit, that was brutal. I know it's normal, after a day like today, but learning about it in a seminar and witnessing it are two different things. Want me to help you get her upstairs?"
"No," Steve said, stroking her hair thoughtfully. "Just toss me an extra pillow, would you? I don't want to risk waking her up."
Danny grabbed a pillow from Mary's room and gently lobbed at at Steve, who caught it mid-air with a flick of his wrist.
"Good night, partner," Danny said, as he shuffled to the guest room. "And good luck."