The evening brings much awaited news; the doctors are able to extubate Catherine, but she's now being assessed, so neither Admiral Rollins nor Steve are allowed in. Both men sit down in the makeshift waiting room, in the small-tented health clinic, to wait. A few minutes of uncomfortable silence in, Admiral Rollins clears his throat and turns slightly towards Steve.

"Son, I huh… I need to talk to you about your offer. I spoke to my wife and we both agree that allowing Catherine to go to Hawai'i with you, although convenient, is not exactly appropriate."

Steve interrupts, in a panic. "Sir, please-"

Admiral Rollins lifts his hand, asking him to wait. "Son, please, let me finish. I fully understand your concerns, but her mother and I want her home, with us. Besides, what would she think if she woke up in Hawai'i, of all places? You moved on with your life, you're no longer together, I think she wouldn't want to be placed in such a situation. I'm sure you understand?"

Steve sighs deeply, trying to control and calm himself. "Sir, Admiral, please, I beg you to rethink your decision. The CIA-"

"The CIA wouldn't dare touch my daughter, especially while she's recovering from this ordeal."

Steve raises his eyebrows at Admiral Rollins' naïveté. He really doesn't have any idea, does be? But before he can utter a word, both men see Captain Hamilton walking towards them; his steps are not rushed, but his face speaks volumes. He stops to turn sideways and look at the sun, in a clearly evasive manoeuver, and then casually walks inside, his eyes frantically searching Steve or Admiral Rollins. Looking around and seeing the makeshift waiting room empty, he sits and turns towards them both, conspiratorially.

"Gentlemen, I'm afraid we've run out of time. I just got a call from our CIA liaison officer. I asked him to keep his ears peeled to the ground and… it's not good. Somehow, from someone, they got wind that there is a potential person of interest being held within this base and they want to get to the bottom of it. For now, they think it's a prisoner, so they won't come crawling around here, but how long it will take them to get to the truth, we don't know."

Steve's heart beats a mile a minute, Admiral Rollins' face is devoid of blood. 'Good', Steve thinks, 'at least now you're scared.'

"How's the timeline, Mark?" Admiral Rollins whispers, truly fearful.

"I'd say you have 12 hours at most, before she's found. Night's falling, they may not realise the urgency if they think it's a prisoner being held in a brig."

"I just can't believe I'm about to smuggle my own comatose daughter out of a US airbase in Afghanistan, to save her from the CIA's clutches," Admiral Rollins exhales, running a hand down his face. "What are our exit options, here?"

"How is she?"

"All we know is they were able to remove the breathing tube she had, so she's now breathing on her own. They're still assessing her."

"OK. Let me see what can be arranged. I'll be back soon."

Captain Hamilton is already outside the tent when Steve excuses himself from Catherine's father's side and calls out to his CO. "Sir!"

The older man stops and turns, half expecting the interruption. "Commander?"

"Sir, I want to help. In any way I can."

Captain Hamilton looks him deep in the eye, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "Commander… Steve." He drops a hand on his shoulder and smiles. "Believe it or not, the best help, right now, is for you to do nothing."

"But Sir…"

"Commander." And this voice… this is an authoritative voice. "Please. Trust me? Do nothing, stay put. This is being handled. We need you and Mark to maintain the appearance that things are still ongoing, that no action is being taken. I lied; the CIA is much closer to the truth that I let on. So, we will act tonight, under the cover of darkness. The only question was if we needed a medical transport and a doctor, or simply a nurse to accompany you."

Steve is stunned. What? "Sir?"

Captain Hamilton's smile is strained, now. "You're going through something horrific, son. I'd never leave the burden of saving my goddaughter's life to a man distraught. Thankfully, I'm much better able to keep my head clear, knowing you have her back. Don't worry, I'll send word soon. For now, pray." With these parting words he turns again, and Steve is left bolted to the ground, watching his ever-lengthening shadow until it hastily disappears behind a tall building.

About half an hour later, Dr. Hammerstein appears at the entrance to the improvised waiting room with a smile plastered on his face. It immediately sets Steve's heart onto another gallop, and he rises from the folding chair, nearly toppling it over. Admiral Rollins is slower to move, panicked at even a smile.

"Gentlemen." He hesitantly looks at Steve and then Admiral Rollins, as though asking for permission to speak.

"It's OK, doctor, whatever you have to say, Commander McGarrett can hear."

"Very well. I have good news. Very good news. Your daughter is breathing on her own."

Admiral Rollins whimpers and his legs nearly give out, Steve's hands run over his face, in relief as he extends his arm for the older man to brace himself on, nonchalantly.

"Doctor," Steve has the presence of mind to speak. "How soon can she be moved?"

Dr. Hammerstein's eyebrows rise to his hairline. "What?"

It's Admiral Rollins who explains, voice tired and serious. "We've run out of time. She's going to have to be moved very soon. We're waiting on the details."

Dr. Hammerstein's eyebrows now draw together and le looks down, pensive. "Well, I guess if you must…"

Steve is surprised at how much resistance he was expecting and how much acceptance he is experiencing. He looks at the doctor with an inquisitive mien.

Dr. Hammerstein realises the implicit question in his eyes. "I am fully aware of the situation, Commander. I volunteered to come and tend to the patient, so naturally I had to be informed." Then he turns to Admiral Rollins. "Sir, I need to make arrangements. I will not lie to you, gentlemen," he says, now turning towards Steve, too. "This is not ideal. Not ideal at all. The patient has just been extubated and she's still asleep. We have no way of knowing if she's in a coma or simply still unconscious, we have no EEG machine here to scan her brain. There is pupillary reaction and response to deep pain stimuli, but I'd much prefer to keep monitoring her for a few more days. As it is…" he hesitates. "Well, there's nothing to be done for it. As long as she can leave accompanied by a medical professional, I have to agree." He shakes his head, clearly unsettled.

Admiral Rollins is quick and to the point. "Doctor, I really appreciate everything you are doing for my daughter. But right now, I believe it's more dangerous for her to stay, than to be taken away from here―" Dr. Hammerstein opens his mouth, but Admiral Rollins keeps going, holding his arm. "I know, provided we have someone to care for her on the transport. I know. Believe me, I know."

Dr. Hammerstein exhales, nodding. He excuses himself and leaves both men to themselves.

No one speaks. Cogs turning in brains. Indecision slowly ebbing away to be replaced by grim determination. Consequences measured of what they're about to do, of the danger they're putting Catherine through. But no matter how difficult the decision proves to be, they're between a rock and a hard place and there is no other way. They both know it. Admiral Rollins turns to Steve, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Now the hard part begins."

The sun starts to dip in the sky and with it comes the desert cold. While Admiral Rollins has gone inside to check on Catherine, Steve's too worked up to follow him. He goes in search of Danny, or his mother, to discuss what to do next, when he spots his best friend exiting the barracks where he's been trying – unsuccessfully – to sleep for the last few days. Or successfully having nightmares and flashbacks to this whole ordeal. Or longingly remembering their little tryst in her room, when they were here, last. Danny's steps are rushed and stealth, his eyes perusing the perimeter as though expecting a perp to suddenly jump at him with a gun in his hand. When he spots Steve, he gives an almost imperceptible start, then composes himself quickly.

"Steve! Just the man I was looking for. May I have a word?" And with that request, he turns back into the building, his demeanour not betraying anything. Steve sighs, bracing himself for what's coming.

But nothing could prepare him for what Danny discloses. In four hours, they are transporting Catherine's sleeping body to a helicopter that will land not far from the medical facility she's current being held in – after all, nighttime take offs and landings on a military base, during a war, are nothing out of the ordinary and surely won't alert the CIA – and from there, to an undisclosed location nearby. At that location, Lucia Bama is waiting for them with an airplane that will take them home. Steve briefly thinks they've been inside it before, irony of ironies, except last time, Catherine was by his side. Apparently, everything's been taken care of – the flight plans and authorisations, with Captain Hamilton's help, a navy nurse who's due for leave and volunteered for the mission, and an escort that will include her father, Danny, Doris and Harry. Surprised, Steve realises he hasn't seen their spy friend in a few days and chastises himself for not even noticing his absence. Danny notices.

"Steve, don't even go there. He's been busy, as we all have."

"But… Danny, how?"

"Well, as soon as we got here, we realised how dire the situation was. Doris, for one,was very aware of how quickly and royally fucked we could become at the drop of a hat, in an instant. So… we started to plan," Danny finishes, sheepish.

Embarrassment really doesn't become him, Steve thinks, momentarily amused. "Plan? What do you mean?"

"Plan, Steve, plan! How the hell we were going to get ourselves out of here! With a woman in a coma! So, Harry took it upon himself to figure out a way and we articulated with him and 5-0. He was invaluable."

Steve is floored, unbelieving that in the eleventh hour, his Ohana had come through for him when he was disoriented and unfocused, liable to drop the ball and get them all killed or at least severely maimed.

Danny studies all the emotions on Steve's face. Then, he asks. "I need to let Harry know, Steve. Is she to continue on to Washington after she drops us off?"

"What?"

"Where are Catherine and her father going?" Danny stares, not daring to draw breath.

"They're obviously coming with us, Danny," Steve deadpans.

"Yes, Steve, I know that. But after…? Are you sure her father wants her to stay in Hawai'i? Have you cleared it with the man himself?" The skepticism seeping through Danny's face angers Steve. He sighs.

"Danny, that's a problem for another day. I'm sure by the time we get there, Catherine will need to be taken to a hospital. After she's discharged, if her father wants to take her away, then…" Steve's eyes are lost, unfocused, the man clearly in pain. Then he breaks himself out of his reverie and looks Danny in the eye.

"Like I said. We'll deal with that when the time comes. That's not a priority right now. So tell Harry we're all getting dropped off on O'ahu, please."

Danny sighs again but moves to do as asked.

Almost four and a half hours later, in the middle of the night, they profusely thank Captain Hamilton and successfully manage to load Catherine's sleeping form into the med evac helicopter and leave Afghanistan, war and the CIA behind, with a brief refueling pause in Kabul. In Islamabad, they bid farewell and thanks to their life-saving pilots and greet Harry and Lucia, thanking them for everything they're doing and settling in for the long flight to O'ahu. Catherine's stable and the nurse accompanying them seems very experienced in this kind of transport. Steve wonders, for a brief second, if her "leave" is real or merely an excuse Captain Hamilton had come up with, to not make him feel guilty about depleting Navy personnel for his own, private rescue mission. He lets go of the thought almost instantly – if it helps save Catherine's life, it's worth it.

Lost in thought, Steve only notices the Admiral when he's sat in front of him, away from the others. He seems hesitant.

"Sir? Everything all right?" he asks, stealing a glance behind him at the main cargo hold, now turned into a makeshift hospital room. Everyone else has dozed off.

The man dismisses his concern with a wave of his hand. "Oh, yes, son, she's stable, don't worry. I thought we should talk. You know… about where we go, from here."

"Sir, I'm sorry, but this was all planned behind my―"

"Son, please stop apologizing for saving my daughter's life. Even if it was through your excellent group of friends, now I understand what you meant by having an Ohana behind you to help my daughter. I also now realise what a fool I was, regarding the CIA's potentially dubious methods. Captain Hamilton clued me in on some things."

"I'm sorry if I alarmed you, Sir, but time was of the essence. We had to make a decision. Well, as it turns out, a decision was made for us, but still…"

The Admiral smiles. "Yes, I realise that. In the end, fate intervened and made a decision for me. I shall speak with Mrs. Rollins and convince her to come meet us in O'ahu, at least for the first few days. Do you know if your friends have made any other arrangements, regarding Catherine's medical care?"

Steve eyes him, amused, despite the situation. "Knowing them? I have no doubt."

An ambulance is awaiting their arrival on the tarmac, together with Lou; the kind Navy nurse conveys all the information to the medic on the patient's condition and how she fared, on the flight over. Admiral Rollins boards the ambulance and they disappear quickly from view, illuminated by the sparse lamps that bracket the runway. Steve thanks the nurse profusely for her availability and kindness, promising to keep her appraised of her patient's condition as soon as there are news. A fleeting thought burns through him, that he hopes the news will be good, from here on out, though he doubts it will be that straightforward. It never is, with him, is it?

Lou drops Steve at the hospital and then takes Doris and Harry back to the beach house. En route to 5-0 headquarters, Danny apprises him of every new development. The rest of the team are all waiting to hear the news.

At the hospital, after a few hours of waiting, Admiral Rollins is briefed on his daughter's condition and Steve is allowed in to see her shortly after. Another hospital waiting room, another long, brightly lit corridor, more hospital smells – ether, decaying flesh and desperation, another hospital room. The place is eerily quiet, again, and the only other living soul around is the night nurse, at her station, busy eyeing her computer monitor, but not so busy that she doesn't throw him a glance in surprise. He points to Catherine's room, the only new arrival and she nods, smiling, giving him the go ahead. She clearly knows who he is.

Again, the room is silent, except for the steady beeping of the machines attached to Catherine's body. Steve sits on a chair that stands to her right and leans forward, drawing a hand across his mouth, emotions finally catching up to him, now that he's alone and the weight of what could've happened finally dawns on him. His eyes trace the new bruises developing on her body; one slowly blooming around the cut above her eye, another that starts on her chin and disappears underneath the neck of her hospital gown, the stitched ugly red gash on her neck now visible without the bandages she'd been covered with in Afghanistan, the circular bruises around her wrists which he knows are mimicked on her ankles. He wonders if there are more, hidden underneath the covers, chastising himself for being so naïve or hopeful that he still wonders 'if'. The sob that suddenly escapes him is too quick to rein in; if he doesn't curb the exercise his mind is frantically repeating, on a loop, of imagining out how she got them, he will go crazy. Every different scenario is worse than the one before and he suddenly feels sick. Almost wishes she'd never wake up and have to face the nightmare awake.

He tilts forward, resting his forehead on her arm, lightly grazing her palm with his knuckles. "I love you, Catherine. Please, please come back to me."

Suddenly, a twitch of her hand claws his and when Steve rises from his position in a jerk and looks at her, she's sleepily staring at him, those deep brown eyes appraising him. His shock is palpable, heavy and slow, eyes wide open in shock, and all he manages is to whisper, aware enough that the last thing he wants is to scare her: "Cath? Can you hear me?"

She nods imperceptibly and closes her eyes again, too tired to manage the effort to keep any muscle in tension.

Steve rushes to the nurse's station, begging for a doctor.