Author's note: I am (finally) posting the second part of my post-finale story. Although this has been mostly complete for years, I have continued to update and add to it on occasion and am still struggling with where to actually end this part before continuing on with part three, which is why I've been hesitant to post it before now.
But the time has come to stop obsessively editing and just go with it, so here it is. It's currently 20 chapters and all of the early ones are done. Although I do expect to add a bit more, hopefully I'll have some time to do so before I need to think about posting the later chapters. I can't promise regular updates or even give you some idea of the frequency since real life has been overwhelming lately, so I ask that you bear with me.
I apologize in advance for any mistakes you might find – they are all my own and I can guarantee that there are still some out there despite how many times I've read each and every word.
I don't know how many people are still out there in this fandom given how long it's been since the show ended, but I know there are at least a few readers who have been patiently waiting for this continuation. Thanks for your support – I hope you enjoy!
Finding Peace – Part 2
Chapter 1
May
It had been just over a month since Steve McGarrett had bid 'aloha' to his ohana in Hawaii and boarded a plane to the U.S. mainland, hoping at some point during his travels to reconnect with Catherine Rollins, the love of his life and the one who'd gotten away. But she'd surprised him on the plane, and they'd almost immediately resumed their relationship and had been married just under two weeks later.
Three weeks after their wedding they were honeymooning in the Seychelles where they'd settled for a week after spending eight days in southern Europe and two in Kenya. Having left their jobs behind, they had time to spend with each other without interruption, and they'd been making the most of every minute.
On the morning of their last day in the archipelago before heading to Australia, Steve made his way out to the lanai to gather his wife for a planned walk on the beach. When he stepped out, he heard her on the phone, speaking quietly in a foreign language that he recognized as Pashto. He stopped in his tracks as his stomach dropped. Memories flashed through his mind of a day almost five years earlier; the day she'd broken his heart.
The day in question had started amazingly well. She'd awakened him early to make love and he'd been happy to oblige. After she'd left the bedroom to make breakfast, he'd lain in bed, basking in his happiness. He was with the woman he loved after they'd been apart for a year, and he was finally ready to propose marriage and had been planning for weeks so it would be perfect.
The muted sound of Catherine's voice coming from the living room, though, had pulled him from his musings. He'd investigated and realized she was on the phone, speaking quietly in Pashto. He'd assumed she'd been speaking to someone in Afghanistan, a country from which she'd only recently returned, and he'd worried that she was planning to leave again but hadn't told him.
His partner and best friend, Danny Williams, had told him not to assume the worst and to ask her about it. He'd tried to remain positive but had been blindsided when he'd arrived home that evening with an engagement ring in his pocket and learned she was leaving for Nepal because a relationship with him wasn't enough for her.
He'd given her an ultimatum, hoping she would choose to stay, and had been shattered by her choice to leave. What he'd thought was the permanent departure from his life of the person who knew him better than anyone, the only woman he'd ever loved, had left him reeling. She'd seemed devastated by her decision but had ultimately gone and he'd been left wondering how he'd meant so little to her after so much time together.
But he'd later discovered all was not as it had seemed, and the picture had eventually become clear.
The truth was she'd been ordered by the CIA to report for a deep-cover mission in Ukraine and had been under orders to lie to him about where she was going and why. Learning the details had helped him understand why she'd gone. Learning how deeply she had also been hurt had allowed him to forgive. But apparently not forget because even now, five years later, he was being affected by the emotional turmoil her departure had caused him.
The memories he recalled of that day brought rushing back to him the devastation he'd felt and his heart clenched. He forced himself to breathe, in through his nose and out through his mouth, as he reminded himself that she'd left that life behind. She'd retired from the agency before she'd joined him on the plane from Oahu. They were married now, and they'd promised to be open and honest with each other for the rest of their lives.
Danny's voice popped into his head: 'You got to ask her about it, Steve. First things first. You got to confront her and see what's going on.' His partner had offered the sage advice at the time of the original incident,but he hadn't heeded it.
He wasn't going to make the same mistake again. He refused to allow himself to jump to conclusions.
"Hey," she said with a smile, interrupting his brooding. "You ready to go?"
He realized he'd been lost in his thoughts and hadn't noticed that she'd ended the call and turned toward him. He looked up to meet her eyes, using all of his considerable willpower to remain calm and not assume the worst.
"Who were you talking to?" he asked, his voice quiet.
The smile dropped from her face, and he realized he hadn't been as successful as he hoped in masking his fears. He chained her gaze, determined to give her the benefit of the doubt even though he felt like his world could drop out from underneath him at any moment.
"I was talking to Amir," she said, referring to an Afghani man who had saved her life several years before and whom she considered a friend. "He emailed to let me know Najib got married so I called him to congratulate them." She looked at him questioningly. "Why do you ask?"
Steve sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He took several slow, measured breaths and then opened them again.
"Five years ago, the day you left to go to Kiev, after you left the bedroom that morning to go downstairs, I overheard you on the phone speaking Pashto. When I heard you on the phone just now, it…" He shrugged helplessly.
Catherine shook her head quickly and moved to place a hand on his chest. She looked up at him, her eyes troubled.
"That's not… One thing had nothing to do with the other. I swear to you. That phone call had nothing to do with the reason I left."
His eyes searched her face, and he realized he had no reason to doubt her. He cupped her cheek with his hand, gently stroking with his thumb.
"I never asked you about it back then and I should have."
"I wish you would have," she told him sadly. "I'm sorry I brought up those memories. I can imagine where your mind was just now."
"It's okay."
"Is it?" she asked softly. "Arewe okay? Because I thought we'd put that behind us. I need to know you trust me, Steve, because I don't know how our marriage is going to survive if you don't."
"We have put it behind us," he assured her, "and I do trust you. If I didn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. I'm not gonna lie to you, Cath, my mind went there, for a few I realized I had a choice to make, and I decided to ask you about it, rather than jumping to conclusions. I wouldn't have been able to do that if I didn't trust you. You know that."
She nodded. "Okay," she said. "I'm sorry."
He shook his head and dipped it to kiss her.
"You have nothing to apologize for. I can't believe Najib is old enough to be married," he said about the young boy for whom he and Catherine had once mounted a rescue mission in Afghanistan, a mission that had resulted in Steve's capture and subsequent torture.
"Yeah, he's twenty."
"God, that makes me feel old."
She smiled. "You never even met him."
"That's true," he acknowledged. "But he was 14 when he was taken, I guess I still imagine him being that age." He sighed. "Hard to believe it's been six years – sometimes it doesn't feel like that much time has gone by."
"I know what you mean," Catherine agreed softly.
"Amir and Farah must be thrilled."
"They are. And they're excited for us, too, I told them our news. They are so grateful to you for everything you did. And Farah told me she always hoped we'd end up together. I didn't realize… I mean, I talked about you a lot when I was there, and she knew how much I missed you… how hard it was…"
He wrapped his arms around her and tucked her in under his chin. "They're good people. I will always owe them for saving your life."
She shook her head. "No, you don't. What you went through over there…" She moved back enough to look up and search his face. "We've never talked—"
"We don't need to," he interrupted. "I'm good. Besides, there are other things I'd rather be doing right now."
She sighed wistfully. "Yeah, we should probably finish packing."
He shook his head. "We have time." He grinned wolfishly and looked out toward the water. "How private do you think that beach really is?"
She laughed. "I don't know, sailor, but, uh, it's been a while since we made love in the ocean."
He scooped her up and she shrieked in surprise. "Yes, it has," he agreed as he carried her toward the water. "We should remedy that."
"Yes, we should," she agreed with a smile.
He was on a dusty road in Afghanistan, pretending to herd goats and providing a reason to keep a Taliban convoy stopped so Catherine could rescue the kidnapped children they believed were inside one of the trucks. He knew their plan had been discovered when suddenly he heard gunfire from her position and Taliban soldiers began shouting and started exiting the vehicles.
He grabbed a man to use him as a human shield so he could take a moment to assess the situation. He chose an enemy target and fired several rounds into the tango's chest before snapping the neck of his hostage and tossing the body aside. In this situation, it was kill or be killed, and everyone present knew it.
He heard Catherine's voice calling to the boys, so he knew she was not in distress at that moment. His job was to provide her cover so she could get clear with the children.
He heard her call to him and shouted back that she needed to keep focusing on the kids. He continued to take down as many of the enemy as he could and moved closer to the side of the road to try and get eyes on what was happening at the back of the convoy. He saw a couple of boys run into the adjacent field and knew Catherine was still working on getting them out. He shifted his attention momentarily to check for other threats before looking again for signs of Catherine or her charges. He saw a man who had been down rising to his feet with his weapon poised to fire, and his heart stopped as the woman he loved emerged from behind the truck, rifle pointed down as she moved to follow the boys into the field.
On instinct, he sighted his target and pulled the trigger, then pulled it again when nothing happened. The gun had jammed and all he could do was watch helplessly as the enemy fired and Catherine's body jerked with each bullet's impact; once, twice, three times before she fell backward in slow motion.
He couldn't move as he watched the scene play out. He was paralyzed except for the anguished cry that left his lips, but only for a second until the rage that flooded through him propelled him forward. He screamed her name as he lunged for the man who had shot her and broke his neck in one quick motion. He cared not where the body fell as he reached her side and dropped to his knees beside her, feeling desperately for a pulse at her jugular vein. There! It was weak, but he felt it. She was still alive! And yet he knew she was dying.
He forgot about where they were and the situation they were in. None of it mattered anymore. He grasped her hand and begged her to open her eyes, to stay with him, not to leave him. But her eyes remained closed, and he saw her take her last breath and felt the life leave her body. "Cath! No, no, no, no, no!" he cried out, but knew there was nothing he could do. She was gone.
Steve woke with a start and sat bolt upright. His heart was pounding, and his skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. He realized he was not in Afghanistan and tried to get his bearings as the vision of Catherine's lifeless body kept flashing into his mind's eye.
"…okay. I'm here, Steve, you're safe."
Somehow his foggy brain registered that it was Catherine who was speaking to him and his head swiveled toward her voice. It took a moment for his eyes to communicate to his brain what he was seeing but then reality set in, and he pulled her to him as he tried to catch his breath.
He remembered that they were in Australia, having arrived there late in the day after having traveled more than 24 hours from the Seychelles via Dubai in the U.A.E. They'd both been exhausted, having only enough energy to share a meal before collapsing into bed.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly.
He exhaled. "Yeah," he said, his voice hoarse. "Sorry if I woke you."
She shook her head against his chest. "Don't even worry about that," she assured softly. She knew he'd always suffered nightmares of many of the various horrors he'd experienced in his life. But as far as she knew, he hadn't had any the entire time they'd been back together, so she'd dared to hope he'd left them behind on Oahu. Shehad a feeling their brief conversation the prior day about their time together in Afghanistan had prompted what he'd just relived and blamed herself for stirring up bad memories."What were you dreaming about?"
"Afghanistan. We were on that road…"
He kept speaking, but she wasn't hearing as her own demons fromtheir time together in that country started clawing their way to the surface. She fought to keep them at bay so she could focus on her husband, but she was unsuccessful.
Unbidden, images flashed into her mind. She remembered the sight of himbarely conscious, being loaded on a truck. She saw him being tortured andkneeling, head bowed as he was restrained by Taliban soldiers. She reminded herself to breathe but could hear his cry and see the anguish on his face as a machete was raised above his head only seconds before a team of U.S. Navy SEALs burst into the room to save his life.
He had been seconds from death.
Seconds.
She felt her stomach rolling and shrugged out of his embrace to run to the bathroom with a hand over her mouth.
He followed her and moments later was crouched to help hold her hair as she vomited the contents of her stomach. He rubbed her back soothingly and waited patiently until she reached to flush the toilet. He helped her stand and held out her toothbrush, an eyebrow cocked in silent question.
She nodded and he waited while she brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth.
His concern for her was written all over him. "You okay?"
She nodded. "Yeah, probably just something I ate."
"We ate the same things, and I feel fine," he mused softly and held a hand to her forehead. "You don't feel warm. Any other symptoms?"
"No, I don't think so."
He studied her for a moment, deciding how far he wanted to push then chose to take her at her word. "You want to share a quick shower or you ready to go back to bed?"
"A shower would probably feel good," she admitted.
He turned on the water to warm, then stripped down and stepped under the spray. She grabbed a clip to secure her hair and then joined him. They washed up quickly, then stepped out and dried off. He wrapped a towel around his waist as she fastened one under her arms and then he tugged her into his embrace and kissed the top of her head.
"You sure you're okay?" he murmured.
"Yeah, I feel better," she said honestly. "How about you? It seems like that dream was a bad one."
"I'm okay. You ready to go back to bed?"
She pulled her pajamas back on and climbed into the bed while he located and donned a clean pair of shorts before joining her. He was not expecting her to roll onto her side and drape herself across his chest but welcomed her into his arms and kissed the top of her head once she was settled.
He felt sleep beckoning but was still feeling unsettled by his nightmare. He tightened his hold on her to try and banish the images of her dying in his arms, but it wasn't enough. He rolled her to her side and spooned himself behind her so he could wrap his body around hers to keep her as close as possible.
She closed her arms over his, and he could barely tell where he ended and she began, but it still wasn't enough. He needed more. He nuzzled her shoulder as his hand snaked its way down her torso and started to stroke her gently.
She breathed out a moan. "That feels so good," she said softly, "but I'm not sure I have the energy."
"Me neither," he acknowledged but kept us his ministrations.
She grabbed his hand, stilling it, then rolled to her back to look up at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered contritely, "but I'm so tired."
"It's just…" He sighed. "I need you, Cath," he admitted quietly.
She heard the hint of desperation in his voice and studied him for a moment. She wasn't sure exactly what he was feeling but could see that he was struggling with something. If she was being honest, so was she. Wanting to help banish both his demons and hers, she nodded and pulled his head down for a kiss. He slid off his shorts while she removed hers and then he rolled her onto her side before claiming her body gently with his. Their coupling was languid and tender but just what they both needed, and they finally drifted off to sleep wrapped securely in each other's arms.
Steve opened his eyes to the stillness of night and wondered what had awakened him. He was lying in a comfortable position and his wife was on her side next to him. He rolled to spoon his longer frame around her body and closed his eyes to try and return to slumber when he heard her whimper his name in her sleep. It didn't take him long to determine she was having a nightmare, and he rubbed her back to try and rouse her.
"Cath, I'm here. You're safe."
He kept repeating the mantra as her soft cries grew more urgent and he heard her whimper his name again. Finally, she woke with a jolt and turned suddenly onto her back as she reached out blindly. He grasped her hand and wrapped an arm around her as he soothed, "I'm here, Cath. I'm okay and so are you."
She nodded and blew out a breath.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
"Yeah," she said, but moments later bolted from the bed and ran toward the bathroom with a hand over her mouth.
He was instantly up and following her. He knelt next to her and rubbed her back soothingly as she emptied what little was left in her stomach and dry heaved a few times. When she was done, he helped her up and supported her against his chest as he reached to flush the toilet.
"I'm officially worried now," he told her softly. "You don't feel warm, but something's clearly going on." He kept a hand on her as she rinsed her mouth, then wrapped his arms around her as she sagged against him. He was stroking her back soothingly when something occurred to him. "Is this related to the dream you just had?" he asked softly.
She breathed out and nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think maybe…"
"What did you see? Maybe it will help to talk about it."
She nodded again. "Maybe. I just…"
"What, Cath?" he asked gently. "What do you need right now? Please tell me how I can help."
"I just… I need a couple of minutes, okay? I'll be right out."
He studied her for a moment and then left the room and pulled the door shut behind him, although he stood next to it and listened to the sounds of his wife using the toilet, then washing her hands, and brushing her teeth. He didn't care if it was a little creepy, he needed to be close to her, just in case.
When she opened the door and saw him waiting just on the other side, she tamped down the urge to roll her eyes at his over-protectiveness. He was clearly concerned about her, and she figured he had a right to be.
"I'm okay," she reassured him.
He watched her carefully for a moment before guiding her back to the bed and climbing in next to her. She rolled onto her side and tugged his arm over her. Knowing she wanted him close he snugged her back against his chest and held her tightly.
"You might feel better if you talk about it," he said gently.
She nodded but remained silent.
"How about if you tell me about your dream," he encouraged softly. "What did you see?"
"It was… Afghanistan," she whispered. "I was dreaming about when you were taken. We've never really talked about what happened over there."
"We haven't," he acknowledged, then sighed. "I'm not gonna deny that it ranks in the top ten shittiest moments of my life, but I'm still here because of you. You saved my life, Cath. Yes, it sucked, but I got past it. I'm fine, and I've put it behind me, but it seems like maybe you haven't."
"I just… you went there for me, and I hate that it's still affecting you."
"I don't blame you, Cath. You know that."
"I know, but I still blame myself." She blew out a breath. "What you went through…"
He shushed her quietly. "It's nothing I wasn't trained for. What matters is that you got a call out to Danny, and he called in the cavalry, and they got me out."
"But you're still having nightmares and I—"
He shook his head. "That dreamwasabout Afghanistan, but not about me. It was about you."
She shifted slightly so she could look over at him. "I don't understand."
"I dreamed that my gun jammed, and I couldn't take out that guy before he shot you." He cleared his throat but couldn't look at her as he admitted, "You, uh, you died in my arms, Cath. I…"
She wrapped her arms around him, and he pulled her in against his chest and held her tight.
"That must have been awful," she soothed. "No wonder it affected you so much."
He nodded and pulled back enough to see her face. "Yeah, it did. But right now I'm more concerned about what affected you that much."
"It's… I just… I was so worried about you. I mean, I know what they're capable of, and I always imagined the worst, but…"
He waited for her to continue, then prompted, "But, what?"
She shook her head.
"Cath, I know it must have been bad, and I get not wanting to talk about it. But it made you physically sick. Twice. And that tells me youneedto talk about it."
"You're probably right," she admitted. "But I…"
"We agreed not to keep secrets from each other," he reminded her gently. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
"I know. But this…" She shrugged helplessly, then moved out of his embrace, got off the bed, and started pacing.
His concern spiked and he sat up fully. "What it is?" he asked. "What don't you want to tell me?"
The room was bathed in the light of the moon, and he watched her continue to pace for a moment before standing and placing his hands on her shoulders to stop her movement. When she looked up at him, he was alarmed to see tears in her eyes, and he felt his gut clench.
"You're starting to scare me, Cath. I need you to tell me what's going on," he demanded softly.
She wrapped her arms around her middle as it trying to fight off another bout of nausea and seemed to deflate right in front of him.
"You almostdied, Steve," she whispered. "I saw the video. What they—"
Shocked, he released her shoulders and sank heavily onto the edge of the bed. "You saw the… How? When?"
"It was part of what the CIA used to recruit me," she admitted softly.
"They used…" he closed his eyes and muttered an expletive.
She heard the anger in his voice and moved to sit next to him. Tension radiated from him in waves as he processed what he'd just learned. Finally, he blew out a breath and looked at her.
"I bet they told you it was your fault, didn't they?"
She nodded sadly. "Not in so many words, but… yeah."
"Well, that explains some things," he muttered as he struggled to come to terms with what she'd told him. The final piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place; she'd joined the CIA because she'd thought it would help protect him. Although he didn't like it, he understood it. But he was also angry that they'd used her feelings for him to manipulate her into getting what they wanted.
"I'm so glad you're finally done with them," he ground out. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, reminding himself that nothing had changed. In the end, they'd still gotten their happy ending. But even though his brain told him it didn't matter, his heart felt differently.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said, unable to make eye contact. "I wish you hadn't. It's… I was…" He stood suddenly and moved away.
"You were what?" she asked gently. When he continued staring at the wall silently, she stood and moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle as his automatically covered hers. "I know you were trained to never show fear," she said against his back, "but this isn't combat and I'm not the enemy. You never have to hide anything from me."
"I know," he said honestly then admitted, "but it's… not easy for me sometimes."
"I know it's not," she reassured. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to put up a front with me. I've seen you at your best, and at your worst and that doesn't make me love or respect you any less. It's okay if you were scared, you're human. But you were also incredibly brave. You held up under their questioning and didn't betray your country. You were prepared to die rather than giving them what they wanted, and nobody can fault you for that."
She said everything he needed to hear, the same things he'd told himself as he'd worked to put it behind him. But it was ingrained in him to never show weakness, to compartmentalize that which he couldn't control. He knew all she'd ever wanted was for him to share with her what troubled him the most, to let her help carry his burden. He wanted the same of her, so why did he still struggle with it so much sometimes?
She sighed. "I'm sorry," she said sadly. "Maybe I shouldn't have told you."
The tone of her voice tore at something inside him, and he finally turned to look at her.
"No, I'm glad you did," he admitted. "I know I'm not always good at this stuff, but I'm trying. I don't want there to be any secrets between us. Not anymore. I hate that you've been carrying this around all these years. Like I told you, I got past it and I'm good now. But you obviously aren't, which means it's something we need to deal with."
"Maybe you're right," she admitted softly. "I know you don't blame me, but that doesn't mean I don't blame myself. You were on that road because of me, and I wouldn't—"
"Hey," he interrupted. "I'm glad I was on that road with you. If you'd been out there alone…" He shook his head like he was trying to dislodge bad memories. "After… when I regained consciousness back on base and realized you weren't with me, I started to panic. All I could think about was what if they'd captured you? They would have done so much worse than they did to me and—"
She put a hand on his chest. "I know. But I couldn't bear the thought of you being hurt again because of me, that's why I told Danny he needed to make sure you got home."
He was confused. "Wait… what? When did you talk to Danny?"
"I, uh, I got ahold of him on base in J-bad."
He leaned back to look at her. "Catherine, that was incredibly dangerous. Why would you do that?"
"Because the only thing that mattered to me was that you got home safe," she stated firmly. When he held her gaze, she finally relented and sighed. "I blocked the number and went through channels, saying I was your sister calling for an update. I'm not an idiot."
He chuckled. "No, you're not. Far from it."
"Danny never told you, huh? I asked him not to, but I wasn't sure."
"No, he never did. I wondered why he seemed so certain that you were okay. Why didn't you want him to tell me?"
"Because I knew you would refuse to leave without talking to me and I really needed you to get back to Oahu safely." She looked up at him, her eyes still wet. "I'm so sorry. For everything."
"You have nothing to apologize for." He sighed. "Honestly, I don't really want to dig all this up again, Cath," he admitted quietly. "But you're obviously still struggling with it so I will do whatever I have to to help you deal with it."
"Most of the time, I can tuck it away somewhere in my mind and not think about it, you know? But sometimes, like right now, it's…" she shrugged and shook her head sadly.
He guided her back to sit on the edge of the bed then reached up to cup her face and stroke her cheek with his thumb.
"If you need to talk about it, then I'll listen, no matter what. But it might help for you to talk to someone else," he suggested gently.
"Like a therapist? I don't know…"
"I did," he admitted. "It helped."
She sat up straighter. "You did? When? Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's not that I was keeping it from you," he reassured. "It just hasn't come up. It never became a regular thing, but there have been a few times in the last few years that it was helpful to check in. Does it bother you?" he asked, and she could clearly hear the uncertainty in his voice.
"No," she reassured him vehemently. "No, not at all. I'm glad you did, especially if it helped. I'm just surprised, I guess. You never seemed very open to it."
"I know," he concurred. "It's not that I would ever judge anyone who went, I know it helped a lot of people. I guess I just thought it wasn't for me."
"What made you change your mind?"
He sighed. "I did a few sessions after Afghanistan – the governor required it before I was cleared to return to work and then a few months later, he mandated that Danny and I do some sessions together, but it was the, uh, the transplant that made me seek it on my own. I started questioning a lot of things. What I was doing with my life. Whether the sacrifices of the job were worth it. You were on my mind. A lot…"
She couldn't help but smile softly. "I was?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I was going stir-crazy in the hospital, and one day I just needed to get away, get some space to think, you know? They wouldn't let me move around without the chair, so I rolled myself into the chapel, but I didn't realize there was someone else in there. I offered to go, but he invited me to stay – said he could use the company while his wife was in surgery.
"He asked me what happened to me, and I told him it was, uh, work-related. He asked what kind of work I did, and I told him. He said he'd been a cop, too, and I was surprised – a cop who'd been married forty-five years? I asked him his secret, and he said, 'No secret. I just met the right gal.'" Steve cleared his throat. "So, he asked if I was married or had a girlfriend, and I told him, 'no', and he said, 'I'm sure the right woman is out there for you somewhere.'"
He turned to face her and brushed hair off her forehead before searching her eyes. "I asked him what if I had met the right woman and couldn't hang onto her, and he said then she wasn't the right woman. And I told him I wasn't so sure about that, and I was right. Because youarethe right woman for me. Theonlywoman for me. And sometimes it still doesn't seem real that we found each other again."
She smiled sadly. "I know. But we did."
"Yeah, we did. And I want forty-five years like that guy had," he said with a gentle smile, "I want as much time as I can get with you, for the rest of my life. And I want us to be happy for all those years, so, yeah, I think if what you saw on that video still haunts you then you should talk to someone about it. And anything else you might want to talk about. And I'll go with you if you want, and if not, that's okay, too."
She smiled. "Thanks, I'll think about it, once we settle somewhere." She leaned over to give him a kiss, then scooted back and climbed under the duvet, holding it up for him to join her. He tugged her close and held her against his chest before placing a gentle kiss on top of her head. They were both quiet for a while, thinking about the conversation they'd just had.
"So, did you stop having nightmares?" she asked, and he could hear the uncertainty in her voice. "I mean is this the first one you've had since then?"
"No," he reassured gently, "they didn't stop completely. They got better, though. The PTS is still there; it always will be. But I feel I've got a pretty good handle on it now."
She could tell that he retreated into himself for a moment and prompted, "What are you thinking about?"
He sighed. "Eddie. Did I tell you about the time his canine PTS flared up?"
"No. Poor guy. I didn't realize he suffered from it. But, I mean, it makes sense, given his history. What happened?"
"He got out of the house and was running in traffic on Kalanianaole."
"Oh god, did he get hit?"
"No, uh, he-he was lucky, I guess, until I found him and got him out of there."
"Didyouget hit?"
"Uh, no. No, but it was close," he admitted. "But what could I do? He was frantic, not obeying commands, so I had no other choice."
"But he's okay now, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, he is."
"That's good. So, do you know what happened? What caused the flare up?"
"Yeah, he was triggered by some flowers my new neighbor had planted. She's a botany professor and likes to study plants from around the world. She had some spiny restharrow, those, uh, those purple ones that were common in the 'Stan, and he must have smelled them. I found out the field where his first handler died was filled with them and the scent… it, uh, it took him back there, I guess."
"Wow. How did you figure it out?"
"Lou put me in touch with an army vet at Fort Shafter who specializes in military working dogs. He confirmed the PTS diagnosis and asked if there was anything that might have triggered him. It was last fall, uh, after Mom… and I-I was still dealing with that and I thought maybe I did something, but the vet said it was probably related to an old trauma Eddie suffered and a sight, sound, or smell had brought it back. He also said it probably wasn't something that happened when he was with me because I probably would've noticed the signs immediately. He said it was probably something he experienced alone, uh, at home or outside. I knew he'd lost both his first handler, in the Marines, and his DEA handler, but he'd been with me since then, so my gut told me it was something from his military days.
"So, I got in touch with one of the members of the original team and asked him about that day. He took me through what happened and remembered the flowers. So, Tani and Quinn went to talk to my neighbor and see if she could help identify where he might have come across them and it turned out they were in her yard."
"So, did she get rid of them?"
"Yeah. She dug them up that day and moved them to one of the greenhouses on campus. It took some time and some anti-anxiety meds, but Eddie's back to himself. At least, he was before I left… but I'm sure he's fine or the guys would have let me know."
"That must have been hard for you, seeing him suffering and not knowing how to help."
"It was. I was, uh, I was leaning on him a lot, then. I don't think I realized how much until that all happened. "
She smiled sadly. "I know you miss him."
"I do. But, uh, I have no doubts that I'm where I need to be right now."
"So, you know about Eddie's trigger. What about yours?" she asked gently. "Did therapy help you with that? Is there anything I should know? Things I should or shouldn't do?"
He shook his head. "Just having you back in my life and having you here with me now is more than enough." He looked down at her and brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. "You know, I bet Doctor Fletcher would love to know that we got married."
"Oh. Um, how do you think he or she would feel about that?" she asked.
"I think he would be very happy."
"So, since we're not going back to Hawaii right now should we find you someone new?"
"That's a good question. I mean, it's not like I was seeing him regularly, and it may never be an issue."
"I know, but if you think there's any chance it might come up, I'd feel better knowing you have that option."
"Okay," he agreed. "Then we'll look into it for both of us when we get settled somewhere." He leaned over to kiss her and rolled her to her side so he could spoon behind her as they shared a pillow. He reached up under the shirt she wore to place his hand on her abdomen, and she wrapped her arms over his. "You know," he said quietly over her shoulder, "one of the things I talked to Doctor Fletcher about was whether someone up there was watching out for me."
"You mean, like a guardian angel?"
"Yeah, I guess. I mean, there have been enough times in my life when I shouldn't have survived, shouldn't have made it out, but I did. I used to wonder if my mom was watching over me… and, I mean, it turned out she was, but not the way I was thinking."
"I like the idea that the people we've loved and lost are watching over us," Catherine murmured.
"Do you think they know that we got married? That we're happy?" he asked.
"Who?" she responded softly.
"My parents… Aunt Deb, Joe, Freddie… He was always your biggest fan." He chuckled. "He, uh, he told me more than once not to mess it up with you. Part of me hopes that he knows, but part of me still feels guilty… I'm still here, I get to have you in my life, to be happy. We've already been married longer than he and Kelly were. It's just…"
"I know about guilt," she admitted. "I will always blame myself for leaving you and all the time we lost."
"Just like I will always blame myself for letting you go without a fight. But we can't change what happened in the past, so we need to let it go so we can focus on the future."
"I know. I just…"
"The guilt will never go away completely," he told her. "But I've learned to live with it, to not let it take over my life. Therapy helped. And I will listen anytime you want to talk. And I will always fight for you, no matter what."
She rolled over to face him. "Me, too. I know you miss Freddie, and your parents, and Joe and Deb. I do, too. And I hope they know that we got married because they'd be so happy for us. I like to believe they're up there - Freddie watching over his family, watching his little girl grow up. Watching over you…" She smirked. "Hopefully notallthe time."
Steve laughed and hugged her against his chest. "We're on our honeymoon," he pointed out. "If he is watching, I hope he's been enjoying the show."
"There must be rules, right? Or is the afterlife filled with a bunch of peeping toms?"
"I don't know. But if it is, they're going to be getting an eyeful. I have every intention of making love to you as often as possible for the rest of my life." He stretched to give her a kiss, then amended, "Starting tomorrow, because the jet lag is kicking my ass right now."
Catherine yawned. "Mine, too." She turned onto her side again and he snugged up behind her. "I love you, you know."
He smiled softly and kissed her shoulder. "I know. I love you, too."
A/N: The conversation Catherine had with Danny while he was in Afghanistan after Steve's rescue was introduced in my story Fair Winds and Following Seas.
