This is definitely a McRoll story, so don't read if you ship differently. I will update as inspiration and time allow. Reviews welcome. The usual disclaimers apply. Eventual M rating, whenever I get to it. Otherwise, K.

The reckoning

Bitterroot Ranch, Montana

December 2018

Joe White is dead. The idea keeps repeating in his mind, in a loop.

Steve had held Joe's lifeless body in his arms, until his former mentor, friend and almost father, really, had turned cold.

What a contrast, between the most gorgeous sunset he's ever seen, and how dark his soul feels, right now. He wants to scream at the sun, the mountains, the trees and the birds; he feels like reaching for the perfect display of nature and ripping it away, as if it's a backdrop designed for a play that's ended. It all feels fake, foreign, artificial, stupid… oh, so stupid!

Joe had taken a bullet for him, and Steve had failed to save him.

He feels numb to everything around him, a dangerous place to be, considering the circumstances. Nothing registers; not the smell of the grass, the view of the mountain peaks, the sound of horses in the distance or the feel of the cold settling in. Or maybe he welcomes it, as a stark reminder that from this moment on, he should no longer feel warm, contented, comfortable, or happy – much like Joe. At this moment, he doesn't care if twenty more guns for hire show up and try to take him out. He needs the punishment, this is all his fault.

And what the hell had Joe played at, calling off the Med Evac and leading him to that tree? He could've been saved!

Steve feels angry tears streaming down his face, as images of Joe come to his mind. Wallowing in grief is just not a sensible thing for him to allow himself to do right now, military training surfacing, but he can't help it and lets the emotion carry him, hands shaking, eyes swollen. His legs give way, and he feels an uncontrollable nausea taking hold of him, chest oppressed by a gigantic weight, breathless, mouth dry and papery. Being here is making him physically sick.

His first and most primal instinct had been to run away, to disappear from this reality, to erase the day's events and start anew.

But he knows, from past experience, that the death of a comrade in arms is not something he will ever be able to make sense of. They happen and you deal with them as best you can. Steve drops to his knees and sits on his legs, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around his midsection. He sits there for several minutes, stone cold still, as if hoping that this has all been a bad dream and he is about to wake up.

He'd called NCIS and reported Joe's death; then he'd gone through the Military notification detail, leaving the circumstances to be explained on site. It was bad enough having to do it once; twice was unbearable. Steve just wanted to be left alone, but knew that was one wish he would not be granted. He'd carried Joe's body back to the ranch, on his horse, and laid him down next to Cole's, for the authorities to deal with the formalities. He'd sat down next to them, in front of the bullet-riddled house, and waited. Oblivious to everything, except his own thoughts attacking him relentlessly, he'd alternated between refusal to accept that Joe had called off the Med Evac, to thinking what could've happened, had it come; between better protecting his body, during the shootout to wishing he had been the one to take the bullet. Why, God, why did it have to be Joe? His whole life felt surreal, at this point, dizzyingly unpredictable, numbing him, rendering him immobile. His anger was palpable, and directed at the person he was sure had betrayed them all: Greer. He'd never actually believed that she would have the courage to betray their identities to the same people she had worked against, to protect her country; such level of evil was beyond his understanding. On some level, he was also berating himself for having been such a bad judge of character, when it came to that woman. Slowly, clouded by his pain, profoundly angry, a plan had started to form in his mind, something that hadn't occurred to him until that moment. He would avenge their deaths, even if it cost him his life. All of them. Joe's and Cole's bodies had eventually been taken by the coroner and he had given statements to the police as well, refusing to move from the cabin to have his injuries tended to. He'd patched them up as best he could, with the first aid kit in the gun room and resumed his position on the porch, as a sentinel guarding his prisoners, tears once again rolling down his face as both men were taken away from the land of the living.

Joe – he had been more than a father figure, more than a protector, more than a mentor. He'd been a second father, both in terms of his personal life, but also his life in the Navy - SEALs and beyond. He'd been the one to save his ass on so many occasions, to help him find his mother (skirting around the issue more times than Steve had wanted to allow him to, but he'd ultimately understood why), to make him ask Catherine out on a date (and look where that'd gotten him, he thought, with a mix of happiness and sorrow), to ultimately die protecting him. He had once dismissed Steve's thanks for everything he'd done for him, proud of the man he'd become and the people he'd helped, all these years.

With his mother in parts unknown, Steve feels that he has, once again, lost a parental figure to the job. Or the consequences thereof. He closes his eyes and lets a lone tear fall, allowing himself the perceived weakness, since there is no one about. He's tired. For too long, now, his life has been all about the job. Nothing but the job. He's put his life in danger more times than he cares to admit, and the return has always been a sense of fulfillment, of job well done, of completion. Helping others has always been his motivation, and that feeling always propels him forward. He doesn't know how to be different. His life has always been a succession of dedication and obeying orders, ever since he was sent to the Naval Academy, as per his father's instructions, under Joe's watchful eye. Even his relationship with his sister became irreparably damaged and cut short by his mother's "death", and he hasn't yet been able to mend it, since moving back to Hawai'i. And then, there's the woman he loved. With whom he'd been for over 10 years. Catherine. She had also left. Claiming to need something of hers in this world. And broken his heart in turn. He feels all those compounded losses now, not just Joe's. It's unbearable.

Then, his mind wanders back to the reason he is now sitting on a bench, on a ranch, in Montana, the last of a team of highly trained brothers in arms, and his chest feels the rush of adrenaline, the breaking pain and the horrid reminder of what has just happened, and that his life will never again be the same. If he wants to contact his mother now, who will he turn to? Joe was his last link to her… maybe not, he thinks, bitterly, a second later. Unfortunately, there is Catherine (another pang). How ironic that the worst possible choice of a job, by her, has now turned into an indirect link to his mother, for him. But he wants nothing to do with it, he thinks, with childish anger. Wouldn't even want to consider going to her with such a request. That would be akin to accepting her decision, profiting from it, belittling the pain he'd felt when she'd left him sitting on that porch, ring box burning a hole in his cargo pants' pocket, unable to believe that she was just giving him that half assed excuse and breaking his heart yet again. The feeling of dread at her imminent departure, much the same as he feels right now. Lost. Without direction.

He'd been aimlessly wandering the fields with Joe's body propped on the horse, trying to make sense of it all. Of the purpose of it all. Of the reason for the death of such a good man. Of why he always had to be surrounded by guns, shootouts, stark and sterile interrogation rooms, phone calls, immediately being on the go, to save someone else, while his own life was in pieces. Dad dead. Mother presumed dead, then not so much, then suddenly alive, then missing without any possibility of connecting with her. Sister gone to the mainland too young, and the connection lost. Aunt dead. Joe dead. Catherine gone and very difficult to reach, but no longer his girlfriend.

Danny, Chin, Kono, Lou, Grace, Charlie, Adam, Junior, Tani, Noelani and Kamekona are his Ohana at present. They're great, they've carried him through many an incident, accident, medical emergency and downtime, but they have their own families and some of them other jobs, to keep them busy. Even Danny, his partner, has Grace and Charlie. And Rachel. However much he tries to deny it, Danny loves Rachel. He hasn't yet forgiven her, but he loves her. They're a lovely family. What does he have to show for, after all these years of hard work and selfless dedication? That is tangible, palpable? A transplanted liver and radiation poisoning! And lots of scars, physical and psychological. No wife, no girlfriend, just an aching heart. No house in the suburbs, no children to fill it, no white picket fence, no minivan… He snorts and thinks, ironically, that he does have a dog. Well, at least that. And then how out of place he and Catherine would look in a 'suburban house, white picket fence, minivan and soccer practice' scenario. Or… maybe not. Maybe it wouldn't be that outlandish, or crazy. Suddenly, Steve breaks out of his reverie and realises that his mind has wondered to Catherine immediately, when thinking of his life's achievements – or lack thereof. But Lynn is the woman he dated last. Suddenly, he remembers Joe's words, as well as Wade's:

"Steve, don't wait as long as I did to find someone. I sat out too long and I don't want that to happen to you", Joe had told him, while they were prepping the guns in the middle of the back room. At that time, too, his mind had immediately wandered to Catherine, Lynn forgotten. "Find yourself a good woman and settle down." Problem is, the only 'good woman' he'd ever wanted to settle down with, hadn't wanted to settle down with him.

Catherine. Their history was long and winded, but he'd never stopped loving her, one way or another. He sadly suspected he never would. She'd gone away, leaving his heart broken and every fiber of his being raw, a feeling worse than many a torture he had endured during his time with the SEALs. In time, he had slowly managed to pull himself back together. But the void, the gaping hole, had remained, skillfully stashed away in a secret compartment of his heart and mind. He'd tried to fill it with another love, but after a couple of years of really trying to fool himself into thinking that maybe he'd managed to replace her, she'd come back to ask for his help in finding a terrorist. Lou had warned him against helping, glaring at him behind her back, but they had always been friends and he didn't want a terrorist with uranium running around free on his island. At least, that's what he had told himself. He knew he would never refuse anyone help, let alone Catherine. The familiarity of being close to her once again felt so comforting, so smooth… so natural. Her smile, her beautiful brown eyes, her easygoing nature, how well she knew him, all made him secretly reminisce back to the time they were happy on the island, living together.

They'd talked about common, run of the mill things, like Tani and he'd even given her a compliment about having a good heart, which she'd immediately thanked him for, and teased him about his bad habits in return. They had managed to reach a new friendship normal, or so he thought, avoiding the mines along the road of 'the' conversation. But immediately after that, she'd asked him about Lynn and how their relationship was doing, and deep down, he'd been thrown for a loop; to her face, he had nervously smiled to disguise the pang directed at his heart. He'd been almost non-committal, barring not acknowledging Lynn's presence in his life; he'd told Catherine, laughing, that he and Lynn were 'keeping it casual', when the truth was far from that. They saw each other several times a week, they slept at each other's houses often and had what everyone else would class as 'a committed relationship'. He was, for all intents and purposes, her boyfriend, and she, his girlfriend. So why had he succumbed to the need to play his relationship down, to Catherine's face? To convey the idea that their relationship was casual, so casual to the point of him not even considering her his girlfriend? 'No big deal', Steve thought, trying to justify his actions, 'I never called Catherine my girlfriend, too'. And then… why had he been unable to just let that topic of conversation die? Why had he asked her about her dating status, in return? He had heard what he hadn't wanted to hear, although he suspected that answer had been nothing more than Catherine trying to save face, for both their sakes. In the end, she had left again, off to her CIA missions and her enemy combatants and he had stayed, heart in uproar, left to do the math of that visit. Feelings for Lynn vs. dormant feelings for Catherine, skillfully and painfully stashed away in the deep recesses of his mind and heart.

From that day forth, he'd given Lynn some half-arsed excuse about being on duty more often, now, and had taken to staying late at the office, not wanting to go back to a home that was missing 'her'. As though she was a physical piece missing from it, like the house was not complete without her, and bringing another woman into it and into his bed had somehow been a betrayal. He wondered why those thoughts were only now coming into his mind, but suddenly realised that his anger towards Catherine had faded into a lull, a remnant of a reason that he had desperately needed to cling on to, to continue to have the moral high ground on her departure. And one night, he'd just woken up, startled to realise that he'd dreamt of her, and felt an overwhelming urge to know where she was, what she was doing, who she might be dating, if she'd ever come back. To him. The thoughts just came rushing, like a dam had burst open and then, he just knew. There was no point in leading Lynn on, in maintaining the farce, in lying to his heart. It was also unfair on Lynn, because she was wasting her time on a relationship with him, and there was no chance in hell of her being able to achieve anything more than what they already had. None whatsoever, he realised bitterly. His heart belonged to another.

So he'd had THE talk with Lynn, who, surprisingly, had smiled sadly and accepted what he was telling her. Her comment had been more along the lines of 'I knew this was coming', but she'd been at peace with his decision. She loved Steve, she'd told him, but knew that his heart wasn't in it and thanked him for being honest with her, for giving her the chance to move on and find the love of her life - as he had done. That elicited a quizzical look of surprise from him, because she'd always seemed so innocent, so "there in passing", never there to bring deep feelings or attitudes out of him, and Lynn had further explained. She'd told him that when they'd started dating, she'd had hopes of building a life with him, but as time had passed, and especially after Catherine had showed up to go help him rescue his mother, and he'd retracted into himself with anger towards her, she'd realised that there was a part of his heart, hidden away even from her, that belonged to that woman, that would always belong to her and that he didn't want to let go of. Sort of like a wound that he bled, on occasion, as the ancients used to do blood lettings to alleviate the pressure. Her exact words had been: 'We're not for each other, in this life, Steve. I don't know who my person is, or if I'll ever find him, but you… you've found yours. It's a shame that you keep refusing to see such a clear truth.' Naturally, he'd never explained the circumstances of his and Catherine's breakup to Lynn.

She'd kissed him warmly on the cheek, bid him farewell, asking him not to contact her in the near future and her parting words were that she wished that he would be able to find his way back to the woman he loved, because he was a good man and he deserved to be happy ('oh, the irony', he thought, 'she told me that once about you'). And she then went on to say that she suspected that he would only ever be happy with her. So, whatever he needed to do to get her back, he should. She had left him in silence, sitting in his living room, in the dark until late that night, stunned to his core. Lynn understood a great deal more than he had given her credit for. By the time he'd gone to bed, he was inwardly thanking her for everything she'd told him, even the parts that hurt too much to even consider. But he hadn't acted on any of the advice Lynn had gracefully given him, unable to bring himself to face the possibility of yet another rejection. Being rejected by Catherine hadn't 'hurt like hell'; it had knocked the air out of him, sent him reeling, really broken him, made him think that he would never, ever be able to open his heart up to anyone, ever again, to laugh, be happy, sit in one of the white-washed Adirondack chairs, near the ebb and flow of the water's edge and just stare at the dying sun with a beer in his hand and be at peace. He'd been able to achieve that, after many long months, and he would have to be very, very careful about putting himself back in such a position again.

Steve suddenly realises he's been thinking about Catherine for a long time. He needs to call her, he thinks with apprehension. His heart always aches when he sees her, and right now he feels so raw, so damaged and sad, that he does not know how he will react to seeing her. Will she be solace, or even more pain? Regardless, the thought of not calling is unthinkable, not only because she'd want to come to the service, he is sure, but also because he desperately needs to see her, one way or the other. She belongs to this part of his life, he thinks with sadness, since he can't say that about the last 2 years and three months of their lives. Joe had been the one responsible for getting them together, ultimately – how ironic! He'd been the one to make Steve promise he'd call and ask her out. Joe could see what Steve couldn't, and when Steve had given him the "we'll ruin the friendship" excuse, Joe had rolled his eyes and pointedly looked at him, until Steve gave up the pretense that he did not have feelings for Catherine, and agreed to ask her out. So it's only right that he and Catherine should see Joe through to his final resting place. Together, as he had intended. Even if life had gotten in the way and they'd parted ways, probably never to be joined again, he thinks with another sad sigh.

Opening the cabin door that he patched up as best he could, Steve sits down on the porch and sighs deeply, thinking of how to go about explaining what happened. She will be alarmed, once he's explained all they've been through at the ranch, he's sure, but there are no two ways about it, it has to be done. He unlocks his phone and looks up Catherine's name on his contact list. He knows that she will very likely not answer the call, and he is now trying to think of how to word the voice message to get her to call him. Whatever it is, he knows, she will be intrigued, as they haven't seen or spoken to each other in about seven months, so for him to be calling… He sighs again, acutely aware that he is procrastinating and taps on her name. The screen changes and a dial tone can be heard; "too late to back off now" Steve thinks.

As expected, there is no answer. Hearing her voice on the voicemail pre-recorded message makes him realise he's extremely nervous, heart pounding in his chest and he considers disconnecting the call, but then thinks better of it. She'll see the missed call, wonder what he wants, and wonder that he hasn't left a voice message. Trying to sound upbeat, Steve waits for the "leave your message after the beep" part, and starts to talk. He realises instantly that his voice sounds hoarse and rough, but it is too late to do anything about it, now. He hesitates slightly, inwardly cursing for not having done a test run in his head, but presses on, wanting to finish this and end the call quickly. "Hi, um, Cath… It's Steve. I, uh… I need to talk to you. I don't know when you'll hear this call, hope it's soon. Could you please get back to me as quickly as you can? I have, uh… I have some news. Thanks."

After disconnecting the call, Steve feels like a bumbling idiot for leaving such a message. What is he, when it comes to this woman? A lovesick teenager unable to put two words together, or a Navy officer, a SEAL, the Head of Five-0? Damn it! If just the thought of hearing her voice on the other end of the line leaves him like this, he wonders how he'll feel when he's face to face with her again. Especially with the news he has for her. Steve's heart aches again, when he's brought back to reality and recent events come rushing to his mind. The pain of losing a loved one is always horrific, but Steve feels as though he has literally lost his father once again. The pain is the same, anyway. The prospect of facing life without Joe's presence, of knowing he will be buried in a box, six feet under, is unbearable at the moment.

He considers calling Danny, but for some reason, feels that he needs to keep his grief to himself, to guard against having to tell anyone what happened, and partially deal with his emotions, in the process. Catherine feels different – she'll provide comfort, she'll know what he's going through without him having to explain. He needs her at this moment; he feels the need to not have to explain anything to Danny. Harsh, but that's how it is.

As the mild afternoon sun gives way to a chilling evening, Steve realises he's been sitting on the porch bench for too long, now, immobile. Still no call from Catherine, so he resigns himself to the loneliness, now suddenly unwanted at the prospect of 'her'. Getting up to go inside, he grabs two large logs to feed the fire with, as the nights are very cold. This is not Hawai'i, he thinks, with sadness. Inside, he finds a thin, foam mattress, drags it into the gun room, locks the door and lays down, not really knowing what to do with himself. Sleep will be a hard commodity to come by, he knows, but he needs to rest his body, if not his mind. Tossing and turning in the makeshift bed, tormented by the day's events, Steve gives in to his sadness and cries quietly, late into the night.