"Danny," Jax said, and it bordered on a whine, it really did. "Why are we being punished?"
"Not being punished, babe," Danny sighed. Although, mid-way through the day of processing the arsenal that Declan Novak had left for Martin Lassiter, it was starting to feel that way.
"I'm never even going to get to shoot any of these," Jax said morosely, as she painstakingly dusted yet another wooden case for fingerprints. So far, they'd found only Lassiter and Novak's prints; which meant Novak had personally ensured that Lassiter had enough weapons to take out the entire Five-O team.
"Aw, I'm sorry," Danny said. "Maybe Steve will let you keep one of the M8-4 stun grenades."
"You think?" Jax said, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet in excitement.
"Do I thi - no, I do not think," Danny said. "You people are crazy."
"Then we are being punished," Jax muttered.
"Geez, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Danny said.
Jax shrugged, sighed, and rubbed at the side of her head irritably. Danny studied her for a moment, his trained eye taking in details at a glance: still pale, with dark circles still smudged beneath her eyes. He shook his head and pondered for a moment, then grinned as he pulled a small radio off the shelf. Wiping a fine layer of dust off the top, he plugged it in and fiddled with the controls.
"Aha," he said smugly, as music started to fill the evidence bay.
Jax turned back from the case of RPGs and looked at Danny. "Bon Jovi, seriously?" she asked, arching her eyebrows at him. But a grin was tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Yes, my Jersey Girl, you know it," Danny said, grinning back. "Nothing better for getting you out of a funk."
Jax rolled her eyes and turned back to the case, smiling. Danny watched her and sure enough, there was a subtle lift to her shoulders, and by the second verse she was humming along.
"Are you still hopeless on the dance floor, Jax?" Danny asked.
"Shut up," she said fondly. "Just because some of us didn't hit the club scene during our misspent youth . . . I bet your moves are old, now, anyway."
"My moves are classic," Danny said, and proceeded to demonstrate. It had the desired effect, and Jax smiled and laughed as Danny broke out his best moves.
"Okay, you're actually really good, you know, for an old guy," Jax teased. She wasn't surprised; Danny had natural coordination and athleticism. Plus, there had been that one undercover case that had lasted for weeks. Jax had watched Danny and Grace tear up the dance floor for nights on end, and he had more than held his own.
The radio station switched to a slow ballad, and Danny smiled and held out his hand to Jax. "Come on," he said, "you're not terrible at slow dancing."
"Danny," Jax protested, "we're supposed to be working here." But she stepped into his open arms all the same, and rested her head on his shoulder.
"So," he said quietly, leading her gently around the corner of a box of grenades, "everything okay?"
"Ummhmm," she mumbled. She was tired, really, and this felt nice.
"Cause, you know, not to insult you or anything, but you look like shit," Danny said.
"Aw, Danno, you say the sweetest things," she said, stepping on his foot accidentally-on-purpose.
He chuckled and deftly kept her from tripping. "You and Steve don't know when to say when . . . you know that you have nothing to prove, here, Jax. I know you. You were this way in the academy; always pushing to go harder, faster, further. Don't try to keep up with Rambo, okay? None of the rest of us mere mortals are trying. Remember to eat. Get some decent sleep."
"Okay, Danny," Jax agreed.
The music shifted again, this time to the latest club dance hit. Danny looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged.
"Okay, yeah, I got nothin' for this," he said. He kissed Jax on the forehead and went back to his clipboard. "One more crate. You wanna count or fingerprint?"
"Fingerprint," Jax said emphatically.
They carefully pried open the crate, after Danny had photographed and logged the Novak family crest which had been stamped onto the corner. He was muttering about the arrogance of the ubiquitous symbol as they set the lid aside.
"What's that?" Jax asked, pointing to a sheaf of papers that appeared to be shoved into the edge of the crate, nestled among the wood shavings. Danny snapped a photo of the papers before pulling them out, gently.
They looked at them in stunned disbelief.
"Well, shit," Jax said succinctly.
#*#*#*#*#
The team stood looking at the documents, now scanned and displayed on the plasma screens, while the originals were at the crime lab for fingerprinting.
"Okay, so there are a few surveillance photos of each of the team members; but look," Chin said, pointing at one picture, "in this shot of Jax, she's wearing the HPD SWAT uniform. And the only shot of Grover is one where he's in the frame with Jax, but it doesn't even look like he's intentionally included. These shots, at least, were taken before they transferred from HPD to Five-O."
"So it's highly improbable that Lassiter took them. Novak?" Danny asked.
"That would be my guess," Steve said. "Either himself or at his request."
"My guess is that Lassiter was never supposed to abduct Valerie Keon," Grover observed. "I think he was supposed to target the team, and Jax, after everyone escaped from Halawa. But he's a sociopath; couldn't contain himself, and went after Valerie, true to his usual habits."
Danny and Chin both nodded. "That's as sound a theory as any, until we have reason to suspect otherwise."
Steve was still studying the pictures. "No pictures of Gracie, or Rachel or Stan," he noted, "and none of Malia. There's no indication that anyone else was a target."
"No pictures of Mary," Chin added.
"Okay, let's see what the crime lab has to say; and get them to double check, see if there were any photos or documents retrieved from any of the cells from our guys," Steve said. He glanced at his watch. "Chin, I know you need to go pick Kono up from the hospital; why don't you take the rest of the day, so you and Malia can get her settled. She staying with you?"
"Yeah, Malia has already gone over and packed up a couple days worth of clothes. Malia says she's doing well, though, and I'm supposed to bring her in with me tomorrow," Chin said. "Kono being bored is more dangerous than her being here," he added, shrugging.
Jax grinned. She remembered Danny and Grace driving her all over New Jersey with a freshly casted wrist one time, for the same reason.
Steve glanced at Danny and Jax, both of whom still had lines of pain and fatigue around their eyes. Danny tilted his head almost imperceptibly at Jax, and Steve noticed again just how exhausted she looked. "Hey, why don't we all just call it early today," he said, "I think we've earned it, and we'll let the lab catch up on all the evidence we've given them to process."
"I thank you, my wife thanks you, my children thank you," Grover said, smiling. "And I'll take you up on that before anything changes." He headed into his office; Jax trailing after him to collect her backpack as well.
"I know, Danny," Steve said, his eyes following her. "Since the Keon case . . . she barely sleeps. Falls asleep, but then wakes up and wanders the house."
"And you're not doing much better," Danny observed, "probably for worrying about her. Maybe when Kono gets back, that will be good. Don't girls like to do stuff, like go get fancy coffee drinks, and do relaxing things?" Danny said.
"Hell if I know, Danny," Steve said. "The last time they went out for lunch I had to sign off on a brutality complaint, remember?" He frowned as his phone rang. "Yes, Governor Jameson? An hour? Yes, ma'am, I will be here." He sighed as he put his phone back in his pocket. "Danny, can you give Jax a ride home? I've got to stay and meet with the governor."
"Sure, babe. Hey, how about we go pick up some pizza, you know, from that one place that doesn't suck?" Danny said.
"Yeah, sounds good," Steve said. "And don't wait for me. Go ahead and eat. She keeps falling asleep before she eats, with these cases running us into the ground . . . "
#*#*#*#*#
"No, Governor, I most certainly do not understand," Steve said, pacing in his office.
Governor Jameson sat behind his desk, in his chair, sipping contentedly on a beer. "Steve, you're no longer in Naval Intelligence, remember?"
"I'm in the Reserves," Steve argued, "because you asked me to run your task force, to, and I quote 'get people like him off my island'. Well, Novak is just like Hesse," Steve argued.
"But he's not on my island," the governor retorted, "and if you go chasing after him, you won't be on my island either."
"I'm not entirely convinced that he's not on the island," Steve said. "And there are pictures of my team. My team, Governor. You expect me to just turn that over to . . . to, whom?"
"To Naval Intelligence," the governor replied. "They've already been in contact, asked me to facilitate the transfer of the case and information from Five-O to Naval Intelligence."
"Because they know you sign our paychecks?" Steve asked.
"Because they trust that I have the best interest of everyone involved at heart, and they hope that I can help you see that," she replied. "But make no mistake, Steve, that's the way it's going to happen. Someone from Naval Intel will be here at nine am to accept your evidence and a briefing."
Steve looked at her, a mixture of frustration and betrayal on his face.
"Come on, Steve," she said, "what, are you going to drag the entire team around the world chasing this guy down? How many of your people are recovering from injuries? Would it be the worst thing in the world to have a slow day or two?"
Steve sulked.
"Really?" Governor Jameson laughed. "Oh, my. I see that you think it would be. You and I both answer to the Navy on this one, Steve. As your boss, I'm instructing you to stand down on the Novak case. And Steve, as your friend . . . please . . . take a moment, take a breath."
Steve looked at her, impassive, crossing his arms.
"Need I remind you that I've approved all of the . . . requests you've made of me," she said, staring back at him, nonplussed.
If the governor had been a bit more perceptive, the twitch in Steve's jaw would have concerned her. As it was, she just arched her eyebrow at him and took another swig of her beer.
"Fine," he said. "I'll have the evidence organized and ready for transfer tomorrow morning. Then we will move on to an in-depth evaluation of the clear and present threat to my team, based on the surveillance photos we found among the weapons cache, and measures put in place to ensure the safety of my team and their families. I expect any . . . requests that I make for security will be approved."
#*#*#*#*#
"Why do you have aneurysm face?" Danny said, as Steve dropped heavily into the chair beside him. "We're on your beach, your happy place, you're wearing your favorite ratty tank top. The sun is setting, it's paradise - or so I'm told - there should be no aneurysm face."
"The governor is taking the Novak case and handing it over to the Navy," Steve said.
"Well, babe," Danny said, "Novak isn't on the island, right? He headed out toward international waters; who knows where he is now. Wasn't tracking him part of your job when you were in the Navy?"
"Yes, Danny, yes. Tracking Novak was my job," Steve said tersely. "I stopped tracking Novak to track Hesse, and that got Freddie and my dad killed. And now Novak is playing with me by going after my team; threatening my team. They're a bunch of damn parasites, Danny, and they're going to keep coming, and coming, until they've hurt everyone that I care about and -"
Steve broke off, and glanced around, suddenly alarmed. "Where's Jax? Where is she, Danny?"
"Steve, she's in the garage," Danny said, putting a calming hand on his friend's arm. "Take a moment, partner. Breathe."
"That's exactly what the governor said, Danny," Steve grunted.
"Oh, I'm so sorry that your boss, who no doubt has noted that you and your team have been run into the ground chasing down escaped prisoners, has suggested some down time," Danny mocked.
"No, it's . . . Danny, she's manipulating me. She came into my office today, and sat at my desk. Classic power play. She brought up all the favors she's done for me - oh, she didn't say it in so many words, but it's clear that's what she was doing. I don't like it, Danny. I don't like being manipulated."
Danny was thoughtful for a moment. "Wow," he said finally. "You're sure?"
"I'd bet my life on it, Danny. I don't know what, I don't know why, but Jameson is playing us."
"What do we do?"
Steve shook his head. "Hell if I know, Danny. But I'm trying to keep the rest of you as far away from this as possible, at least until I know what I'm dealing with."
"That's code for 'don't mention it to the others'," Danny guessed.
"For now," Steve said. "I don't know what this is or where it goes. You've already been threatened by Novak; you don't need to be on the governor's radar as well."
"You don't have to go all lone wolf, Steve," Danny reminded him. "You built this crazy family; we're all in it together."
"I know, Danny, just let me do some looking, quietly and carefully, before we say anything, okay? I don't want the team acting or operating differently. It will raise suspicions."
Danny nodded. "Fair enough. Hey, did you get food? Go get food. You don't look much better than Jax. You crazy people, think you can run on adrenaline and caffeine alone."
"You're such a good mom, Danno," Steve teased, but he hauled himself out of the chair in search of food all the same.
#*#*#*#*#
"Hey," Jax said, looking up from under the hood of the car.
"Hey, yourself," Steve said, grinning at her. She was wearing the old cut-off shorts that apparently lived in the garage, and one of her old Newark PD t-shirts, sleeves long since ripped away. Her cheek was smudged with motor oil, and her hair appeared to be trying to escape from . . . "is that a zip-tie?"
She absently tugged on her hair. "Oh, yeah, I forgot an elastic thingy, this was handy," she said, scratching her cheek and smudging more oil in the process.
Steve placed the pizza box and two Longboards on the workbench and came to stand next to her. "How's it coming?"
"Really, really good, considering my boss works me non-stop and I haven't had any decent wrench time lately," she said, bumping her hip against his as she tightened the connection on a cable. "Help me reach - there. Thank you. Okay, that's all I can do until the next batch of parts come in. Shipping is slow from Detroit. I'm thinking, maybe after the Marquis is finished . . . I might look into a project car for myself."
She struggled to reach high enough to lower the hood of the car, and he stepped closely behind her, reaching over her easily to help. He lowered the hood until it latched with a quiet snick, and then wrapped his arms around her, inhaling the familiar scent of her hair. It grounded him and he took a moment to try to settle the swirl of questions in his mind.
Home, his brain sighed, and he tightened his arms around her.
"Hey," she said quietly, turning around and reaching up, cupping his face in her small, strong hand. "What is it?" The tiny lines around his eyes were deeper, and his expression belied a fatigue that went beyond a lack of sleep.
He leaned his face into her hand and smiled tiredly at her. "Rough day at the office," he said simply. "Hey, how about another slice of pizza? I haven't had any yet."
"It doesn't suck," she said helpfully. "And it doesn't have pineapple on it."
Steve boosted her easily to sit on the workbench and opened the box, pulling out a slice for himself. "So," he mumbled around a bite, "tomorrow morning, we have to turn everything on Novak over to Naval Intelligence."
"Why?" Jax asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "I would think you'd be the person most likely to track him down."
"The governor and the Navy say that since he's off the island, he's out of Five-O's jurisdiction," Steve explained.
Jax was silent for a long moment. "So, will you go back?"
"Go back - what?" Steve asked, confused.
"Go back to active duty. Naval Intelligence. So you can track down Novak," Jax said. "Come on, Steve, I might be new to the story but I can follow the plot."
Steve sighed. "Okay, it crossed my mind. And I won't say that it couldn't happen, at some point. I'm still in the Reserves. It's not unheard of. But that's not on my radar at the moment, and if it comes up, you and I will have a long, long conversation. For right now, my place is here, with Five-O." He wrapped her curls around his fingers. "With you."
"I wouldn't ask you not to go," she said, even as she pulled him closer, tracing her fingers over the intricate ink on his biceps. "Not now, not later. I wouldn't ask you to stay, for me. It's . . . it's the Navy," she shrugged. "It's part of you, and if it came up, it would be for a good reason. I wouldn't ask you to stay."
He tried to imagine leaving the island again, leaving Jax, leaving Five-O, and for the life of him, he just couldn't. Funny; he had been away from Hawaii as long as he had lived there, and he'd never felt like he would be homesick for it before.
Ohana, his brain supplied, as he tilted Jax's head back and kissed her, gently at first and then with the focused intensity that he usually reserved for disarming small explosives. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and he put his hands in her back pockets, pulling her closer.
"Okay," she said breathlessly, "I wouldn't ask you to stay but I might ask to go with you . . ."
#*#*#*#*#
The moonlight spilled through the windows, illuminating the bedroom in a pale silver light. Steve turned and brushed his hand over the empty space in the bed beside him. The sheets were cold . . . she'd been up for a while, then.
"Jax?" he mumbled sleepily.
"She's otherwise . . . occupied." Novak's cold, arrogant voice came from the chair in the corner of the bedroom.
Steve sat up, grabbing his backup out of the bedside table and pointing it, furious, toward the voice. "Where the hell is she?" he demanded.
"Where do you think? Go ahead; go and look."
Steve bolted down the stairs, his feet barely touching them. He rounded at the bottom of the stairs. She was there, hands and feet tied to the chair, just like . . .
He woke with a gasp, reaching out instinctively for Jax. The bed was empty next to him, the sheets cold. His heart was racing as he grabbed his backup out of the nightstand. He cleared the bedroom, then the bathroom, then crept quietly down the stairs. Clearing the kitchen, he moved silently through the house, clearing each room as he moved toward the back door.
Jax was on the lanai, wrapped in an old quilt and nestled into one of the chairs, looked up as the door squeaked open. "Whoa," she said, sitting perfectly still as Steve's SIG was trained on her. "You okay?"
Steve huffed out a sigh of relief and flicked the safety back on his weapon, placing it securely on the shelf next to the back door. He knelt on the floor next to Jax, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her close to him, his big hand cupping the back of her head and tucking it under his chin.
"I thought -" he paused. "I guess it was a dream, and you were . . . scared the shit out of me," he murmured into her hair. "What are you doing out here, anyway?"
She shrugged. "I can't sleep, didn't want to keep you awake."
"Jax," he whispered, "what can I do? Tell me."
"It will pass, eventually," she said, fidgeting with the blanket. "It always does. You've done this, right? Surely . . . after Freddie, your dad. You have a few days, a few weeks . . . it gets better. Valerie Keon . . . anyway. It will get better. You get it, right?"
"Yeah, I get it, ku'uipo," he said gently, "and yeah, it gets better. What can I do to help make it better?
"Can there be coffee?" she asked hopefully.
He kissed the top of her head. "Yes, there can be coffee," he said.
#*#*#*#*#
Malia wrapped her robe around her and found Chin on the porch. It was still dark, and she was no stranger to waking at odd hours. He turned to smile at her, gratefully accepting one of the cups of coffee she held toward him.
"Hmm, thank you," he said quietly. "Is Kono okay?"
"Still sleeping," Malia said, "and you could be. What's wrong?"
Chin sighed. "The high profile arms dealer that ended up in and out of Halawa? Had surveillance photos of the team. I'm thinking of installing a security system here . . . I'm so sorry, Malia. This isn't fair to you."
"Nonsense. Do you think that an emergency department comes without risk? Just let me know, please, if you put any friends from HPD in my path. Let's not have a repeat of that last time."
"I was embarrassed on behalf of that young officer that you clobbered with your clipboard," Chin chuckled. "I promise, for your sake and theirs, I will keep you in the loop this time."
#*#*#*#*#
Danny sighed as he looked at his phone. It was early; entirely too early to be awake. Still awake. He gave up the idea of further sleep and gathered his trainers and basketball shorts. For all his taunting of Steve's running and swimming, Danny was no couch potato. Jersey hadn't been a place for developing outdoor fitness routines; it was a place for a solid gym membership. His latest apartment may have left many things to be desired, but the complex had a decent gym, accessible twenty four hours a day.
Within half an hour, Danny had stretched - carefully, mindful of his stitches - and was moving fluidly through the weight sets that minimized any strain to his midsection. He finished the repetitions on auto-pilot; his mind full of the images of Novak's surveillance photos.
It was always, always unnerving to see yourself or your loved ones the subject of someone else's surveillance. Most of the photos had been taken at active scenes. Anyone with a rudimentary knowledge of Five-O, picked up on any public website, would have known to look for them there.
But then there were the other few photos: the team coming out of Sidestreets . . . Chin coming out of the bike shop . . . Steve coming out of the surplus store just outside Hickam. Okay, that one wouldn't have been a stretch, maybe. No pictures of Grace's school, or Queens, where Malia worked. No pictures of Rachel coming out of the coffee shop, or Stan's office. No pictures that they knew of. And that was what had kept Danny awake much of the night. What if there were more photos? What if their families were, in fact, in specific danger?
What if his Monkey was in danger, right this minute?
And what the hell should he do about it?
Danny sighed and moved to the treadmill.
#*#*#*#*#
The team arrived promptly, if tiredly, at the palace. Grover was the last to arrive, but he was greeted enthusiastically by the rest of the team clustered around the central console - he came bearing a tray of coffees and a bag of malasadas.
"Grover, you are a god among men," Danny sighed, helping him with the coffees.
"You people are looking just a little the worse for wear," Grover said, smiling as Kono relieved him of the bakery bag with a huge, dimpled smile. "Welcome back."
"Thanks, man," Steve said, accepting a coffee with a nod of thanks. "Okay, someone from Pearl should be here in about fifteen minutes to get all of our evidence and our reports on Novak. I want copies of everything - absolutely everything - saved to our internal hard drives. We may be turning over the case and the evidence, but no one has suggested that we can't retain all of the information. So that's what we're doing. Chin, you've set up the designated files? Excellent; transfer two copies of everything - one to the file designated for transfer to the portable hard drive for Naval Intel and one to our internal drive."
Chin nodded as he, Grover, and Steve headed off to their offices and fired up their laptops.
"So, we need to do stuff with the inventory stuff?" Jax asked uncertainly. "Right?" She looked at Danny for confirmation. Navigating the computer had never been Danny's forte, and Jax hadn't fared much better.
Danny, as usual, looked at Kono and grinned. She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Danny, since I don't have my own work on this case, I will gladly come show you what Steve is talking about." She laughed and followed Danny and Jax into Danny's office.
Kono demonstrated the intricacies of multiple file management, not that she was especially hopeful that Danny would remember later. Maybe there was hope for Jax.
"Okay, Jax, enter your password," Kono instructed, and then grinned as Jax typed it in with two fingers. Maybe not. "Where's the hard copy?"
"It's still downstairs with the physical inventory. Should I get it?" Jax asked.
"Yeah, we will be asked to turn that over, I'm sure," Danny groused.
Jax took the elevator down to the basement and signed in with the HPD clerk to enter the evidence bay. As she turned the final corner, a young, overeager intern barrelled into her with a rolling cart full of evidence being transferred to the courthouse. Tired and distracted, Jax fell over hard, and backwards, when the cart made violent contact with the row of stitches in her thigh.
"Oh, gosh, I'm terribly sorry," the young man said, rushing around the cart to offer Jax a hand up.
She glared at him, but accepted his hand and pulled herself up easily onto her feet. "No problem," she gritted out between clenched teeth, and waved him off. She limped into the evidence room as pain momentarily took her breath away and gray spots danced in her eyes. "Holy fucking shit," she sighed, closing her eyes and leaning on one of the crates, "damn baby interns running the hell around the basement with their shit mail carts. Bloody stupid stitches. Fuckwit Novak and his damn knife and his stupid family fucking crest. Bollocks."
"Wow," a low, amused voice said behind her.
"Shit," Jax swore again in surprise, whirling around to see who was behind her and almost losing her balance. "Fuck," she added for good measure, as she tweaked her now throbbing leg. The voice behind her belonged to a very put-together looking woman, in what Jax recognized now as the Navy working uniform. "Sorry," she apologized.
"No need, I spend my life surrounded by sailors," the woman said, extending her hand. "You have to be Officer Nolan," she guessed.
"Yes, ma'am," Jax said, shaking her hand. "How did . . ." Five-O didn't wear name tags, so Jax wasn't sure how she'd been so easily identified.
"Sounds like Jersey swearing, with a dash of British, and I heard that a friend of Danny's had joined the team," the dark-haired woman said. "Lieutenant Catherine Rollins; nice to meet you."
Jax's eyes widened a bit comically, but she recovered quickly. "It's very nice to meet you, as well. Are you here to collect the inventory and evidence?"
"Yes; I have a team right behind me to collect the actual inventory but I wanted to see it for myself. Wow," she said, glancing at the pile of neatly stacked crates.
"Yeah, there's some great stuff in here," Jax said, wistfully.
Catherine laughed softly. "I'm sorry to take it away. Is it all there?" she asked, teasing.
"Yes," Jax said sadly. She held out the clipboard a bit awkwardly. "This is the hard copy; Danny thought you might want it, as well as the electronic files?"
"Thank you," Catherine said, accepting the clipboard. Jax produced a chain of evidence form, which Catherine signed and handed back to her. "Shall we head up to the office?"
Jax nodded and they headed to the elevator; Jax limping slightly.
"You're injured," Catherine observed.
"Stitches," Jax said. "Freshly contused by an evidence cart."
"Oh," Catherine nodded, as they boarded the elevator together, "the damn baby intern?"
"That would be the one," Jax said, pressing the button for the second floor. The door closed and Jax leaned against the wall of the elevator.
"This is, I suppose, just a bit awkward," Catherine said, smiling at Jax. "I really am sincerely happy to meet you. And happy for Steve. And you."
"Thank you," Jax said quietly. "I don't really understand . . . the whole awkward . . . I've never been good at the whole, you know. Dating. Being the . . . whatever." She sighed in frustration. "I don't have enough experience at relationships to know what's supposed to be awkward and what isn't," she finally said, in a rush.
Catherine laughed. "Well, that explains quite a lot. Let's just not bother being awkward then."
Jax smiled in relief, her face open and delighted, her green eyes twinkling. "That would be great," she said, nodding enthusiastically, a curl escaping from the loose clip holding it back from her face.
They exited the elevator together and approached the rest of the team standing at the center console.
"Close your mouth, brah, seriously," Kono hissed under her breath at Steve.
#*#*#*#*#
Catherine sat across from Steve's desk, smiling at him.
"What?" he said suspiciously.
"You didn't mention that she was so very pretty," Catherine said. "God, that hair is to die for. She has no idea, does she?"
"Not a clue," Steve agreed, grinning back at her.
"And the swearing?" Catherine smirked.
"Hey, blame Jersey, and Danny, and Danny's ex-wife," Steve protested. "So, you're taking the lead on tracking down Novak? Stateside or are they sending you out?" He tried not to sound just the tiniest bit jealous.
"I'm staying stateside," Catherine said. "I'm at Pearl for a while, but I'm in charge of satellite surveillance of Novak. I understand there were hard copy photos of the team?"
"Yeah," Steve said. "You know the Navy and the governor pulled us off of this, right?"
"And I take it you're not entirely happy with that?"
Steve didn't reply.
"Ah. Okay, sailor, how about I keep you in the loop on anything that would remotely affect your team?"
"That's a start," Steve said. "I need an objective risk assessment. Not just of the immediate team, but of their families as well. Novak very, very specifically targeted Danny and Jax in the Halawa fiasco."
Catherine nodded. "I'm not completely objective when it comes to you and your team, you know that, right?"
"You're the right kind of objective," Steve insisted. "Keep me in the loop. Me," he emphasized.
Catherine arched an eyebrow. She could read between the lines. "Off record?"
"That a problem?"
"Not for me; it might be for the Navy. I'll do what I can. Dare I ask why?"
Steve shrugged. "Hunch. Unsubstantiated."
Catherine studied Steve for a moment, concern evident on her face. "Take care, sailor," she said softly, as she stood up. It felt just a little bit like goodbye, and she was surprised by a prick of tears that she blinked back quickly.
"You too, lieutenant," Steve said, coming around the corner of his desk. He decided to toss protocol for a moment, and gathered Catherine in a gentle hug. "Be well, Cath," he whispered, kissing the top of her head.
Catherine started to head out of Steve's office, and paused as she watched the rest of the team moving about the open center room. Steve followed her gaze with his own, and smiled at the sight of Jax, absently batting Danny's hand away from fussing over her leg.
"Oh," Catherine said softly, looking up at Steve. "There it is. That was never there for me."
"What?" Steve asked, looking down at her fondly.
"Your heart," Catherine said, smiling at him.