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Don’t let yourself have attachments.
It was the first thing she was taught. Don’t make attachments, don’t call any one place home, don’t settle anywhere, be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Honestly, the Navy was a good fit. Navy Intelligence gave her training and connections that would be unique in her chosen field, but allow her reasons to be somewhere else immediately if need be. She was a Navy brat anyway, her father was a retired Captain living peacefully in Virginia, and it only seemed… like a choice she would have made anyway.
Which is one of the reasons why she was chosen.
She got to wake up every day and serve her country, proudly, and in uniform, and her father was proud and her great aunt cried and Catherine joined the Navy right out of college.
It was the perfect cover.
Two weeks later she got her first real assignment. Simple, really. An Asset Assessment. She’d do a dozen of them before she’d get any other sort of assignment. To meet, befriend, and assess potential players in the community.
“This is Steve McGarrett,” White said, pulling a sailor away from half a dozen other sailors in an old, Navy bar on Coronado. Lieutenant Commander Joe White had been one of her contacts in the Navy – she had half a dozen or so – but twenty two year old Catherine had no idea how much this man would end up directing her life over the next few decades. “Steve, this is one of my new trainees.”
She had no idea that her first Asset Assessment would end up meaning so much to her either.
She’d learn, much, much later, that Steve had already had his assessment done. He was a family friend of White’s, academy graduate, with an aptitude for quick decision making, and an easy, friendly charisma. He was her first real test for the company.
At the time she was sure she had passed.
Thirty seven year old Catherine wasn’t so sure.
But right now, Steve had a wide smile and a warm laugh that made you want to smile too; he been deployed once, but hadn’t seen any real combat. Not yet.
“I did do a rescue mission for a SEAL team though, that was cool,” He bragged after they had been introduced and had spoken a little bit. “Can’t tell you much more than that, though. Classified.” He took a swig of his beer with a smug little smirk that made her want to strangle him a little bit.
“Oh, okay sailor,” She said with a grin herself, trying not to let the flirting get too out of control. She was supposed to assess not seduce.
“What about you?” He asked. “What do you do?”
“I’m going the Naval Intelligence track like you,” She said. He looked impressed. “So, you know,” She took a swig of her beer this time. “Classified.”
He laughed and she smiled and they spoke about their families,
(“The Potential Asset has few family attachments that aren’t strong. Deceased mother, estranged father and younger sister. He does not seem troubled by this and content to focus on his career.”)
a little bit about their pasts,
(“He is from Honolulu and has a family lineage in the Navy.”)
their dreams for their careers,
(“He has aspirations to be a Navy SEAL, and as he is of an athletic build this could be an option. He has a known history of marksmanship, and would make a good SEAL candidate, in this operative’s opinion. He seems to fit the type.”)
and how exciting it was to be serving their country,
(“He seems to be particularly proud of his Naval lineage, although does not seem to be close with his father. He is very much a patriot, motivated to serve, and obviously willing to travel.”)
exchanged phone numbers,
(“He has a cell phone but no permanent home address, preferring hotels and short term rentals when on leave. Does not prefer East or West Coast over the other. He has not been home to Honolulu since he was a teenager. The phone number is a California area code, where his sister currently lives, but hasn’t seen her since her high school graduation last year.”)
phone numbers which his buddies all hooted and hollered about.
(“Easily liked, charismatic, and seems to be the chosen leader of his small group of friends with him on leave, names learned listed below.” - R)
She turned her report in before 0600 and White had told her that she had done a good job and she didn’t think about that night again. She didn’t talk to Steve again for almost a year, and he never did call.
Don’t let yourself have attachments.
Ten months later she got a new type of assignment. Whoever was reading her reports had liked Steve. Someone wanted to know more about him, wanted details about his deployment, his plans for his future, his life. She had orders to be his friend. That was an easy assignment, as she quickly learned that Steve was easy to be friends with. The same bar, the same beer, the same buddies in the corner, and new dark circles under Steve’s eyes.
“Do we have the same deployment schedule?” He asked her, after pleasantries of recognizing each other.
(“McGarrett is naturally curious and suspicious, recognizes patterns, remembers names and faces after passage of time.”)
“We must,” She said back smoothly. “How has your year been?”
He shrugged, pulled a face, took a sip.
“That rough, huh?”
He smirked. “I finally got off a boat.”
She perked up, “Yeah? What doing?”
His smirked again, that same smirk from ten months before. “That’s classified.”
(“He seems excited about combat and service, yet knows when to stop talking about his job when the details are classified.”)
New tactic. “Alright then,” She said, adjusting herself on the bar turning more towards him, “Tell me about your friends.” She eyed the table of sailors against the back wall.
That did it. He perked back up, very obviously happy to talk about anyone except himself. He spoke highly of his friends, all names she put to memory right away. Freddie Hart, Billy Harrington, Sam Hanna, a couple of others… all names she’d put in her report, and all people that she’d eventually work with, asses, and monitor over the years.
(“He is evasive with details about himself, but seems to gather details about others easily. He is also a natural leader, as many, well trained sailors took his lead in the bar, looking to him for beer suggestions and places to visit while on leave. He made plans with one of them to go camping while they are in California on leave.
He surrounds himself with excellent people. Only a single member of his party was not a decorated or titled serviceman. Hanna and Taylor are both SEALs, (Naval personnel files attached) and Fredrick Hart, Michael Davis, and Lindsey Carlton (Naval personnel files attached) are all Academy alumni (their school reports also attached.) Carlton’s boyfriend, Nick Carlton, is a Marine (service personnel file attached.) The only one without title or uniform, only referred to as “Spencer” has special forces training; military branch; unknown. Operative’s guess, Army Ranger or Green Beret, although there are no “Spencer”s, first or last name, currently serving.
This cements my assessment last winter that he’d make a good SEAL if that’s the path he chooses, as he already friends with several. He seems to be on the fence about it, though, and I am unsure as to why. I will report more to this in the future. More reports to come. Further instructions?” – R)
They all let out a cheer over something, Steve invited her back over to meet all of them, and like that, they were friends.
Don’t let yourself have attachments.
She said that to herself the next morning, wrapped up in the sheets of Steve McGarrett’s hotel bed.
(“Continue friendship. Gather intel. Encourage continuing service in military.” – D.C.)
Sex with Steve was, well, for a lack of a better word, addictive. Over the course of their next handful of shared leaves, (how White pulled that one off, she’ll never know… or maybe one day she’d be the one pulling the strings of a dozen assets like her someday and she will know) they got to know each other better, she got to know his friends better, she sent in regular reports to some unnamed ghost she’d never meet, and it was all very… intense.
(“McGarrett still seems unsure about the SEALs, still won’t reveal his reason, although a friendship has been established.
Sexual relationship has begun. Desist or continue?” – R
“Continue. Use it.” – D.C.
“Further instructions?” – R
“We have decided McGarrett would be valuable as a SEAL. Assist in helping his decision.” – D.C.
“Understood.” – R)
She had orders to encourage Steve towards the SEALs. The way a couple of his friends looked at her with inquisitive eyes from time to time, she wondered if any of them were also working for the company; she wouldn’t doubt it. That was the paranoia, something she was taught was healthy in this line of work. Everyone always has an agenda.
And wow was that something she never thought she’d deal with. A small, very small – she wouldn’t even admit that it had mass within her – part of herself questioned if what she was doing was right. This double agent role within the Navy. The Navy taught her things, gave her purpose, gave her experiences and friends and
No. Not friends. Contacts. They were contacts. Stop thinking like that. Thoughts like that lead to disappearances and deactivations and cleaning crews. She was still serving her country, just in the shadows. She liked it like that, made her feel important, and part of the bigger picture.
Once and only once, Steve introduced her as his girlfriend and she had to sit him down, explain that their jobs had to come first, and she didn’t want anything holding them back while they focused on their careers. He seemed taken aback at first, but agreed. Their next shared leave he didn’t reach out to her. She didn’t reach out to him.
(“Why haven’t you made a report?” White had asked her.
“We’ve had a… bump.”
“You’re sleeping with him.” So White wasn’t the one reading her reports.
She said nothing.
“Good, don’t confirm, don’t deny,” He looked up, they were on base, a thousand soldiers and personnel, their conversation didn’t look out of place. “Don’t give him any expectations.”
“Yes sir.”)
Don’t let yourself have attachments.
“He deserves to be happy,” Danny would tell her, standing on a cliff in Hawaii, years later.
Steve sent her an email that summer, about how he had decided to join the SEALs after all, and his schedule might get busier, and that was that. She knew she wasn’t the influencing factor in his decision. Other than a few emails and a handful of phone calls, she hadn’t spoken the man in months.
The influencing factor was Freddie.
(“Of all of McGarrett’s friends in the service one figure that has been there the longest is one Fredrick Hart (see personnel report, attached). They are close with one another. They have served together since graduating from the Academy and their bond is especially strong, as I have stated in previous reports. McGarrett has been to many Hart family events and holidays. They have gone to the coast camping for a few days to a week every leave that is long enough in length to allow them to do so for as long as I have been monitoring McGarrett. This seems to be a de-stressor for them, as they both come back ready for another deployment and more orders.
It is this operative’s opinion that this friendship is valuable to the asset’s wellbeing.” – R
“Negative. Other intel states opposite. I am getting conflicting reports from the field. Maintain cover, gather more intel on F. Hart.” – D.C.
“Affirmative.” – R
That only made the paranoia grow.)
One particular …rendezvous with Steve, the fall after he joined the SEALs and the fall before he’d go through training, was so important that she felt like she couldn’t make a report about it. It was the first time she didn’t. (She’d have many incidents she wouldn’t report over the years, and not just with Steve. Not knowing it at the time, this only made the company and whoever read her reports like her more.)
He showed up at her apartment door one Monday night, quiet and angry. She didn’t even know he was on base. He said nothing, grabbed her face, tore at her clothes, and controlled her. Usually, unlike his battlefield mindset, he was happy taking a back seat and letting her lead in the bedroom. That night he took charge, was rough, took what he wanted and made her toes curl in the most delicious of ways. He was almost angry, like he was ready to prove something to her, maybe to himself, and honestly she really didn’t mind. When it was over, and he was rooting around her fridge for something cold to drink, she asked him what made that happen.
“Nothing,” He answered, his voice even, if almost deadpan. “You want to go Vegas this weekend? Freddie is getting married.”
She had never met or heard about a fiancé, or even a girlfriend. Huh.
“Do you want me to be your date?”
“Sure,” He said, finding pineapple juice (she had mentioned it in a report once, how he liked pineapples, and guessed it was because it reminded him of home, even though he’s never said, and it has been in her fridge at every company supplied apartment since) and he was drinking straight from the carton. “I mean. If you’re good with that. Not being my girlfriend, and all.”
“Sure, weekend in Vegas sounds fun,” She said. “But you’re right.” She took the carton from his hands and took a sip herself. She didn’t care for pineapple much, but Steve liked it. “That does sound like a girlfriend thing.”
He shrugged. “We don’t have to confirm anything with anyone.”
She smirked. “Don’t ask, don’t tell, right?”
His face fell suddenly and his eyes widened and he dropped her gaze and Catherine knew she struck a nerve and found a truth and he changed the subject to getting food before round two.
See, she had gone to school for journalism, of all things. Investigating was what she was good at, it seemed. Putting two and two together and understanding motivations and patterns. She was chosen for the company for her family history, her small remaining family, her aptitude for technology, and excellent deductive reasoning, among other things.
She finally knew what those camping trips with Freddie were. She knew why Steve seemed angry, and why she had never met or even heard of Freddie’s girlfriend.
She didn’t make a report. She didn’t regret it. Don’t ask, don’t tell, after all.
Freddie didn’t get married that next weekend because Tuesday morning the Twin Towers fell and the world fell into chaos and Steve had BUD/s training and Catherine started doing jobs she never thought she’d be doing this soon in her career and next thing she knew Steve was a SEAL and every piece of intel she’d read or heard or copied or acquired that was about a SEAL or a special forces unit… she’d wonder if it was him.
She had a dozen assets she was keeping track of, all over the world, another one even in Steve’s own unit, but she always found herself worrying about Steve whenever she’d hear “joint forces” from some of the other officers.
Don’t let yourself have attachments.
His job became more classified. Hers became trickier. They talked less and less. All the while she was tasked with gathering intel on a dozen possible operatives for her company bosses as well as continue to train and maintain contacts within the Navy and be deployed and it was exciting. Once, she was sure Steve was on a mission, calling mission control for updated intel, and was connected to her desk. They had a moment of recognizing each other, his voice deep and quiet and hers proud and encouraging, but neither of them could talk about it.
She was always so impressed with Steve, as she’d always get orders pertaining to Steve from “D.C.” and that meant someone high up was keeping their eye on him.
(“Don’t let him distance himself from you. Your reports are important.” – D.C.
“Understood. We will both need a leave during a family holiday to encourage companionship.” – R
“How’s Christmas in Virginia sound?” – D.C.
“Perfect.” – R)
That Christmas she cowered behind the couch as her father showed Steve photos of her in ice skates and leotards, and opened the wine when her great aunt pulled out an old VHS of one of her competitions, and smiled at Steve’s warm laugh, and was outraged that her father kept her stuffed animals and Barbie dolls in her room, and smacked at Steve when he found her high school journal and started reading about Zach Devlin in a dramatic voice.
“Dear Diary,” He started. “Zach’s stupid girlfriend Beth doesn’t know what she’s got. She should be taking care of him, the poor thing has strep throat and she should be taking care of him,” Steve dodged as she lunged for the old notebook. “but instead she’s planning to go to the carnival without him! I’m going over to his house tonight and take care of him. Show him what he’s missing. And maybe we can-”
She finally got it away from him, giving him a nasty look.
“Hey!”
“Really Steve?”
“I need to know how that night ended.”
“Why?”
“I’m in Intelligence Gathering. It’s important intel.”
She looked down at the notebook. A ratty, black thing, that traveled all over the world, following her father’s job. It saw five different countries, and nine different high schools. Looking back up at Steve she knew what this moment was. A moment to share, a moment to grow closer with Steve.
Those were her orders, but if she told the truth of that night… one of the worst nights of her teenage life, how she had gone over to Zach’s, professed her love, and gotten laughed at… she couldn’t do that. She could really fall for him, if she told the truth. She couldn’t do that.
Don’t let yourself have attachments.
“I got strep,” She lied.
Steve grinned and moved to hold her waist in his hands. “Oh yeah?”
“Mmm hmm,” She nodded, happily leaning into a kiss.
“Do you think you’re still contagious?”
“I don’t know, maybe some lingering germs exist within these pages,” She said.
“Biological warfare. That’s cruel, Rollins.”
“Is it worth it?”
He kissed her again.
It was a lie.
(“Companionship reestablished. Christmas in Virginia a success.” – R
“Good. Updates on F. Hart?” – D.C.
“Did not join us in Virginia, whereabouts: his hometown in Arizona.” – R
“Good.” – D.C.)
Catherine wanted nothing more for Steve than for him to excel in his career. She knew he was giving up a lot to serve his country, things she would report,
(“Asset has expressed guilt over estranged relationship with his sister.” –R
“Encourage a visit. Emotional distress is not good for soldiers in combat situations.” – D.C.
…
“Asset has changed his mind about his sister, reasons unknown. Expressed desire for a new mission and expressed frustration that HQ is taking so long. He is working out to the extreme, and unable to find things to occupy his time.” – R
“So he’s driving you crazy?” – D.C.
“I believe the phrase is ‘up a wall.’” - R
“Understood. Emotional distress is not good for intel agents in surveillance situations, either.” – D.C.)
Steve left for a new mission the next day.)
and things she wouldn’t report…
(“Leave, day 8. Nothing to report.” – R
“Explain.” – D.C.
“Asset left for beers with friends, (S. Hanna, F. Hart) around 1600 yesterday evening and asked if he could have, and I quote, “a boy’s night,” and did not return until 1300 this afternoon. Was not present, cannot report.” – R
“Understood. Condition of asset?” – D.C.
“Is “recovering from the effects of a night of liver conditioning” an acceptable phrase?” – R
“It’s certainly a new way to put it.” – D.C.
She left out that he had hickies – one on his neck, another on his thigh – that she was not responsible for and he was avoiding sitting on solid surfaces.
It hurt, a little, when she noticed, and he noticed her inspecting him with curious, hurt eyes, and said “We aren’t dating, right?”
No, that wasn’t in her report at all.)
He should get recognition and choices and chances; he deserved those chances, and worked hard for them. Her reports and intel gathering was always fair and accurate, but she’d smooth them down, polish them up, just a little bit better than anyone else’s.
“He deserves to be happy,” Danny would tell her, years later, standing on a cliff.
Don’t let yourself have attachments.
Don’t fall in love with your fellow sailor while stationed together. Don’t do it Rollins, don’t do it, don’t. Billy was a SEAL, he was a sailor, he was sweet and strong and had a toothy smile her knees went weak for. Stupid knees. Don’t fall in love, don’t fucking do it. (She failed, but she also ran back to the company with her tail between her legs, knowing she had broken rule number one. Steve was a good guy, but she had fallen fast and hard for Billy over awful mess hall food and bad drill innuendo. She cried on the plane ride back to her double life, cried for the life she could have had with him, and cried it all out so she could, somehow, find her way back to her reality.)
She got herself shot in Afghanistan in late 2007, (don’t make attachments) didn’t report the details, (don’t make attachments) and was given a long leave to recuperate (don’t make attachments, don’t leave Ameer ways to contact you, don’t check up on them four times a year, don’t create false documents to open a P.O. Box so you can exchange things with them without suspicion, don’t make attachments.)
It was in this recuperation time that Steve’s career really took off. She didn’t see him for her entire recovery, although they did video call several times, her on her couch being lazy and him in [redacted] doing [redacted.] He hinted that maybe he wanted to go home, visit, be with his father for a while, asked if she wanted to see Hawaii from a Hawaiian’s point of view and she told him it was a plan.
“I could call my dad, tell him my…” He trailed, waiting for her to fill in the blank.
“Friend,” She told him.
He rolled his eyes a little and smirked to cover up a frown and said “Friend… wants to meet him. Next time we’ve got leave together?”
“Yes,” She told him, her stomach a bit fluttery.
(“Visit to Hawaii for McGarrett imminent. He’s making plans for next leave.” – R
“Unfortunate. Prepare for re-stationing.” – D.C.)
Catherine was stationed in Pearl Harbor two days later. Steve laughed, said it was kismet. Catherine bit her lip and covered it with a smirk.
Steve didn’t make it to Hawaii for another year. She never did meet John McGarrett. She couldn’t even get permission to go to the funeral. Then Steve moved to the reserves and she, for the first time working for the company, was contacted first.
(“Report.” – D.C.
“Immediate S.O. did not grant permission for funeral despite location. It would seem suspicious if orders came from over his head just for my attendance at a funeral, so deemed it a no-go. McGarrett has not made contact. He has since arrived on the island at 1430 this afternoon. Funeral is at 1730. Further instructions?” – R
“Good call with your S.O. Act if asset makes contact. Information on John McGarrett’s death?” –D.C.
“Only that he was murdered and HPD is on the case. Will investigate and send updates as I get them, if deemed necessary.” –R
“Necessary. Wait for further instructions. Investigate and send updates, may not be able to respond for a while.” –D.C.)
She waited, and in the meantime, she did her job. She gathered what intel she could on Victor Hesse, on Steve’s last mission, (she gasped when she read Steve’s hasty “Hart is dead” on his report. Don’t let yourself have attachments. She detached herself from that information. She wasn’t supposed to know. She was certain Steve would tell her soon.
He wouldn’t for over a year.)
Steve didn’t contact her for almost two weeks and it was for a favor for this task force she had heard rumors about.
(“Offered Naval Intelligence via recon satellite. Tracks covered. Might have to offer further assistance in the future.” – R)
And later that night:
“Don’t worry, I understand, Steve. You’ve had a rough couple of weeks.”
“And I called you for a favor on top of everything.”
“Hey, what are friends for if not favors?”
(“Asset has reestablished contact. Seems particularly motivated after the death of his father and of F. Hart. He has not made Hart’s death aware to me. Further instructions?” – R
“Do an intel gathering on the new task force.” – D.C.
She had already done that.
“The Governor Jameson’s Task Force, which have started calling themselves “Five-0” consists of four members. Detective Chin Ho Kelly, HPD Officer Kono Kalakaua, and Detective Daniel Williams. (see HPD and NPD personnel files; attached) They are doing incredible work for the safety of Hawaii, Pearl Harbor’s resources, and the United States. The US’s interests are protected by Lt Commander Steve McGarrett and his task force.
He is still in pursuit of Victor Hesse (see report 1109; attached; currently presumed dead, no body found, see Coast Guard report Oahu-09.24.10.12; attached) and the men responsible for John McGarrett’s murder (see HPD homicide report; attached, Honolulu ME autopsy on J. McGarrett; attached, STF-Honolulu incident report: Victor Hesse; attached.” - R
“Need more info on Task Force members. Any compromising figures for McGarrett? Anyone that compromise him for future company work?” – D.C.
“Kelly and Kalakaua are cousins, both from police families. Kelly was John McGarrett’s junior officer at one point. Daniel “Danny” Williams is a Detective from the Newark Police Department, recently divorced and moved to the islands to be near his daughter. I do not believe there are any on the team that could sway McGarrett away from the community at this point if he were still asked to serve. Further instructions?” – R
“Maintain relationship with the asset; continue with other work, as well as continuation with your Naval cover. Gather intel on Five-0, create profile of their casework and asses productivity and success of the STF. Encourage Five-0 to use Naval resources when needed, all permissions needed will be granted priority, but do make him work for it. Men do like to chase things every now and then.” - D.C.)
That one had been particularly embarrassing.
It went on like that for a while, that trading favors back and forth. Her C.O. suddenly got a reassignment, and she was given a new C.O.. Someone that knew Steve too, someone that made her constant favors seem like another friend giving another friend a hand. All while she may have started falling for Steve. Then Five-0 added another member to their team.
(“New Five-0 member. Assigned by new Gov. Denning. Agent Lori Weston of Homeland Security. She’s a former FBI profiler and I have yet to be introduced. (Personnel file attached.) She and asset seem to becoming friends. She’s smart and friendly and well trained. This operative’s opinion, she’d make a good domestic agent, but any assessment on my end should happen once I’ve been introduced, as to maintain cover. –R
“Good. Will send another operative for asset assessment. Team update?” –D.C.
“Asset and Detective Williams seem particularly close. Friendship has gone a long way to help heal asset after death of his father.”)
Then Steve called for another favor and he gave her a flower. A flower she put behind her right ear, the one that told the world she was single. His face fell and she bit her lip, and she followed through on his favor. Then he asked another favor, one that would smack her around.
(“Asset requesting if Commdr. Joe White has entered a video file to the D.o.D. for analysis. Orders?” –R
“Say that they haven’t released any intel request and that’s all you could find out. Another operative will move in for asset surveillance.” –W.)
Rule number two the company taught her: know when to back away.
She was going to be lying, shew knew she’d be caught in a lie. Steve was too smart, too quick, and there were only so many people above her that would lie about this sort of thing, and she didn’t want to burn any of her contacts for the sake of this one lie. More lies and the burned valley that once was her network of favors would seriously harm her relationship with Steve and she knew she needed to leave.
(“Agent requests either reassignment or temporary leave from assignment. I’m getting too close, I need time to rededicate myself to the cause.” –R
“Understood. Agent’s well-being and dedication is important. Pre-pare for three to six months of temporary leave. We will use you in another operation overseas. Maintain cover with asset.” –D.C.)
A break. She could use a break. One last meal with Steve then she was gone. But, her orders came in sooner and she was being deployed and then Catherine did something she never did before:
She became a field agent.
It was exciting and nerve wracking and she’d have military orders that would send her somewhere and she’d have to complete company orders and she wasn’t a double agent, per say, but she was following orders outside all of her fellow soldiers. It made her feel important, feel needed, like she was serving her country in ways others only dreamed about. It was just the break from life in Hawaii that she needed, just the reminder of why she chose this life that she wanted. Steve was a fun guy, with a handsome face, but he had nothing on this… this exhilaration.
(“Package has been dropped. No problems.” –R
“Good. Asset update: S. McGarrett has been captured and is in North Korea.” –W.
Her blood ran cold, despite her dedication to her job. Don’t have attachments, and she may not be in love with him, but Steve was a friend anyway.
“Should I be prepared to assist?” –R
It was two days before she got a reply.
“No. His team and assistance were able to retrieve him. Also, good call on Lori Weston. You have new orders. Instructions shortly.” –W.)
Her deployment ended, but she had no orders to go back to Hawaii. She took a vacation, somewhere she figured her work would never take her.
Amsterdam. A city far away from the Pacific and far away from her family and orders and a double life and Steve. Then again Billy being on the same flight with her made her one hundred percent paranoid that he was a fellow company man and that she was being re-assessed.
But he was also a really good kisser and she really didn’t care about re-assessment and that whole week was a whirlwind of being unsure if the company was the life she wanted. It was worrisome that Billy could do that to her.
Don’t get attached. Know when to back away.
She was assigned to Virginia after that. She had further agent training, she was close enough to visit her father, and she had never been more convinced she’d chosen the right path. That became her mantra. She was doing good work; she could see the echoes of it every time she watched CNN. Her great-aunt died and she cried. Her aunt was the closest thing she ever had to a grandmother. This was good; one less attachment. Steve called her to express his condolences and asked when she’d be back in Hawaii. She told him she didn’t know. She went to the funeral, and she helped her father clean out her apartment. She hung around Virginia until her father practically kicked her back into work, claiming he didn’t need a babysitter. She didn’t see Hawaii again until
(“Your orders are to make your way to Hawaii. (Civilian plane ticket information attached.) You are to establish residence and your military assignment will be moved to Pearl Harbor. Establish contact with asset S. McGarrett. Let him know your re-assignment is imminent and you are planning a move. You will be back on asset surveillance and assisting an operatives in a long term setting once there.” –W.)
Something was happening, then.
That something was Shellburne.
It was around this time that she started to wonder why her surveillance on Steve didn’t turn into a partnership. Surely he was an agent too, and she was to watch him for any breaks. She had several men and women she watched for that reason. If they were too close, too obsessed, too close to breaking down under pressure. She was sure she had people that watched her. A few times she was sure it was Steve, but Steve showed disinterest in the company, in that lifestyle, more than once.
It never became more apparent that Steve, and his distrust of spies and hatred for the lifestyle, was not meant for the spy life once his mother turned up not dead.
Doris McGarrett was a fantastic woman, in Catherine’s opinion. Strong, brave, smart, and infinitely curious. She sent in regular reports to “W” and received very few back. Until she realized just who Doris McGarrett was. She was doing some background checks on her and came to find out her maiden name.
Calahan.
Doris Calahan.
D.C.
She had been reporting to Steve’s mother for most of her career. It explained why Steve was never drafted to the company, even if he was the ideal candidate. Doris kept him out of it. Catherine had become a way for a mother to check in on her son. She was not talking to Washington about Steve, and it infuriated her. Infuriated… and captivated her. Steve’s surveillance had to be the longest asset surveillance she had ever heard of and now she knew why. Doris McGarrett was a manipulative liar and Catherine had never been more impressed with someone.
She became her operative.
She asked him to lie to Steve for her.
She gathered intel for her, covered for her, did background checks for her.
This was her job. These were her orders. Doris McGarrett was her superior officer, what else was she going to do? Besides, it was kind of thrilling. It was like she was back in the field again. She was jumping off of balconies, going undercover, running down leads, questioning suspects, balancing a double life again, all in the dark shadows of her friend’s lives and it was thrilling.
Then Steve went to North Korea again, this time for Freddie.
“Will you come with me?” He asked.
“Me?” She asked.
“You’re the only one that really… knew…” He struggled around with words for a moment. “What Freddie meant to me.”
Of course she was going, of course she understood. Steve was smart, he knew she knew. He was also loyal. She knew and didn’t say anything about them, about him at least, so he trusted her with so much more.
That tiny little drop of doubt, the one that worried at her bones with whispers of right and wrong, came back with a vengeance.
That trip for Freddie was the trip that made her think she and Steve had a chance together, if he ever wanted this life. This jump into a world of struggle and adrenaline and finding needles in haystacks and taking down bad guys bigger than the average ones in Honolulu. They worked well together. He fit comfortably behind her back, covering her six, and they read each other silently and without much comment.
He cried over Freddie’s shallow grave in the middle of a combat zone while she had a gun on an enemy and she wanted to smack him. Now was not the time, there’d be time for that later.
(She wouldn’t understand that kind of immediate pain until a few months later when Steve told her that Billy was dead.)
After that he seemed better, calmer, more relaxed. Losing Freddie caused Steve to carry a weight so heavy and so often, she didn’t know there was a difference until it was gone. He had brought his friend home and laid him to rest and it was like Steve hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since Freddie died, judging by how he slept the few days after the funeral. He was happier, more full of life, and hinting about what his next step in his life would be. He wanted to see where things with her could go, she could tell. But he didn’t say a word and neither did she.
Then Doris left again, leaving her with one, final, order.
“You need to make it real.”
“Ma’am?”
“You don’t have to have his children, you don’t even have to marry him, but I need you here, I need you to keep him in Hawaii and off my trail. He can’t follow me around the world, not if I’m to do my job. You need to do yours, and I need you to make this real. You might even need to leave the Navy to do it, but you’d still be an asset. He’s not going to believe it if it isn’t real. He’s too smart for that.”
Don’t have attachments.
She was running on a beach the next time she got orders. The palace was overrun with terrorists, Steve and the rest of Five-0 were fighting for their lives, and she was on a beach getting orders.
“You should tell your grandmother that the cookies she sent were fantastic. My boys couldn’t take them fast enough.”
It was code.
“Tell your grandmother” was ‘another asset’ “cookies” were ‘location compromised.’ “My boys” meant more than one assailant and “take” meant she was to allow herself to be kidnapped and “fast enough” meant it would be happening soon. She was being kidnapped in order to assist another operative’s escape plan. Easy enough.
She smirked as her car started to smoke.
“Oh come on,” She groaned, in case they were listening.
Either way, they were amateurs with the way the tow truck ‘just happened to be passing by.’ Who did they think she was? It was a good thing she had orders to let them take her.
Steve rescued her, which, she was sure, added to his attachment to her, and then he jumped on a helicopter and Catherine didn’t believe that they didn’t try harder to make him an agent like her. He was strange; he could literally chase down a helicopter on foot without breaking a sweat and yet come home and snuggle with his partner and make her toes curl and make a ten year old girl giggle with happiness. It sent shivers down her spine thinking about how good he could be.
Then Billy died.
And her whole world went dark.
She cried for Billy, she cried for her backup plan in life. In the back of her mind she knew that she had a chance to back out of the community, she really could… as long as she had Billy. She hadn’t realized how much she had actually fallen for him until he was gone. But he was dead, and she had failed, and she couldn’t tell Steve she was mourning because she loved him because that would hurt her relationship with Steve… Steve was kind and he was brave and he was everything she should want.
But he was an order.
He was a lie.
The company went dark. No orders from “D.C.,” no orders from “W.” (which, she decided later, was Joe White) she had retired from the Navy. Her whole life had become a mess of no direction. She had no clue what she needed to do and she felt useless, and a waste of space, and here was Steve-
“I’ve been here,” He told her. “I promise you, I’ve been exactly where you are right now,” He said. Her mind went straight to Freddie, and those hickies Steve came home with that one time, and how he cried over his broken body… maybe he knew exactly what she was feeling. The loss of someone you loved and the loss of what could have been. “When you lose someone like that, you start questioning everything you did, and all the ways it could have been different… You gotta stop. I promise you, you do not want to carry that weight.”
Maybe he did know. That she loved Billy like he loved Freddie. In that detached, ‘I can’t have this; I can’t let myself want this, not if I want to keep my job’ kind of way. Maybe that’s why he was so distant after he died. He was hurting but he couldn’t talk about it, not like he needed to talk about it. Her one and only order was to let it be real with him. She had to let him in, instead of push him away like he did to her. It was the only way.
Don’t make attachments. Losing Billy (an attachment) was good. One less attachment. It shouldn't hurt, don't let it hurt, why are you letting it hurt? Make attachments with Steve. Make it real. Make him believe it. Don't back away. Make it like it was with Billy. (It's never going to be like it was with Billy ever again.) Don't make attachments. It was messing with her head.
“I want to move on,” She told him. “I just don’t know how. My whole life was the Navy, Steve. Knowing where I had to be every hour of every day, what I had to do, I had a purpose-“ ‘and now that purpose is supposed to be loving you and what if it’s not enough’ her mind thought, “It’s all gone now so-“
“So you find something. It doesn’t have to be a job, it doesn’t matter, you’ve got to find something.”
So she found a way to bring Kono home. She found a badge on her hip. She found bad guys and lost kids and potential terrorists and she found a bit of purpose again. Steve was the wonderful boyfriend she always knew he could be. Once he knew she was in, he was in a thousand times more a boyfriend than he was before. He was attentive and he smiled wide at her and made these goofy faces whenever she’d think a little too long about Billy and made all of his friends fall in love with her too.
But it really, really, wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.
(“Agent update: Going to Afghanistan for personal reasons. –R.”
“Negative.” –W.
“I’m going, Joe. Don’t fight me on this.” –R
“Is Steve going with you?” –W
“Affirmative.” –R
“You want out?” –W
“Affirmative.” –R
“Out of the assignment or out of the company?” –W
She knew Joe well enough that he’d offer her a safe out, if she wanted it. She wasn’t in so deep that she’d leave a trail, she knew that. She knew about Shellburne, and she knew about Steve and Wo Fat, but all attachment could fade easily with the announcement of a breakup.
There’s a reason why the two major rules exist, after all.
“Out of the assignment.” –R
“Understood.” –W )
So she left. She found Najib, she was activated in the southern Middle East, and the purpose she had been chasing for the last year settled deep in her bones. This, this was the work she was always meant to do. The realization, the comfort of that realization made her content. Back alley dealings, stopping arms shipments to their enemies, being the proverbial guerrilla man to the United States’ enemy’s proverbial railroad lines in places where the United States military had no right to be… it was like it was all a dream. She was needed in a way that she had dreamed about when she was a little girl sitting down watching Bond movies and reading Black Widow comics. She felt like she was where she belonged.
But, as per company rules, for every year active she was required to take two months of leave, as long as she was safe and able.
She was.
She went to Hawaii.
She went to Kono’s wedding.
She fell in with Steve again, because it was so, very easy to do.
And Danny met her on a cliff and told her, “He deserves to be happy.”
Don’t have attachments.
She broke Steve’s heart. She left that day realizing that maybe her attachment to Steve was stronger than she had thought. Like Billy, Steve had become this nice backup plan if things went south. A nice life somewhere she could end up, lie low, and protect herself in. Doris did it once, in the same house, even, and she could do it too.
“This is it, Catherine,” Steve had told her. “I’m not going to wait for you.”
And it hurt.
But another year active meant another two months of required leave. She went home, hung out with her father for a few weeks until he kicked her out telling her to try to win Steve back, that she was an idiot for leaving him, that she should give him grandkids already, and she left covered in a layer of guilt.
She found herself back in Hawaii again, after that. Old habits, apparently, die hard.
The taxi pulled up in Steve’s driveway and there were so many cars lined up along the fence that the cab had to drop her off almost at the street. There were blue and green streamers in fancy twirls along the fence spanning the entire driveway.
“Here for the party?” The cab driver asked.
“Apparently,” She answered with a smile. “Mahalo.”
Steve was out front pulling ice out of a cooler in the back of his truck when she finally walked the distance of the driveway. He paused, his face fell, and then he dropped the ice on his tailgate, looking away from her.
“Hey, Catherine,” He greeted. There was no smile. “What are you doing here?”
She shrugged. “I had a couple day’s worth of layover; I thought I’d say ‘hi.’ Check on you all after everything with Danny and Kono…” She heard a huge round of laughter coming from the backyard. “Is everyone here?”
“Mostly,” He answered, checking his watch. “Yeah, I think so. The thing with Danny and Kono was months ago, Catherine. What took you so long to check on them?”
She shrugged again. “I couldn’t get away that quickly. I could make phone calls, but I couldn’t get away.”
“What are you doing now?”
She grinned. “A little of this, a little of that.”
Steve chuckled. He was smart, quick witted, and knew how to put two and two together. “‘A little of this, a little of that,” He repeated. “In Nepal, right?” It was sarcastic and knowing and he was smart enough to understand plausible deniability. That used to be his job title, after all.
It was her turn to chew on her lip, “…can I go say ‘hi’ to everyone?”
His mouth fell open and his eyes darted towards the house, like he was debating.
“I can only promise you one beer,” He said. “And if you’re not wanted back there, you can’t stay.”
She blinked at that. Anger was what she expected out of Steve, maybe Danny. But Kono? She had to try, she had to see.
It was then she noticed the balloons tied to the front walkway.
‘It’s A Boy!’
It explained the streamers.
“Who had the baby?” She asked.
Steve grinned, smug and proud. “I did.”
That hurt more than she was expecting. She did the math, it would have happened sometime soon after she left. She doubted it was planned. Maybe the mother of his new baby wouldn’t want his ex there, and that’s why he was hesitant to let her at least see the others.
The house was full of stuff, more stuff than she had ever thought Steve would have. There were a dozen shoes lined up in the nook next to the stairs, a couple types of bags she couldn’t place, and what had to be Grace’s backpack hanging up on one of the hooks. There were pictures of Grace (and who she assumed was Charlie) and Nahele and Joan and a little boy (maybe Mary had adopted another baby? she wondered) she didn’t recognize sitting on several surfaces. Steve had become sentimental, it seemed.
There was a small child’s chair sitting next to his recliner and she grinned. That must be for Charlie, as often as Danny was over.
He led her through the house, stopping her just below the stairs.
“Let me just,” He held up the ice, heading towards the kitchen. “Wait here, for a minute, okay?”
She heard Steve dump the bag of ice, and then heard another round of laughter broke out through the lanai as she stood in the living room. She tried peeking through the glass windows and saw streamers and balloons and one huge sign covering up most of the windows. She could see dozens of people though, so this baby shower or baby party was a huge gathering.
Then she heard the toilet flush in the downstairs bathroom.
The downstairs bathroom that no one ever used, ever, because that was Steve’s dad’s room and nope, that door stays closed.
Except it was open.
It was breezy, with the windows open, and she could see new furniture, and huh. That was a change. Steve wouldn’t even talk about that room, let alone leave the door open, let alone change out the furniture inside of it.
Steve darted out into the living room again. “Hey?” He called out. “Nahele?”
“Yeah,” Came back a weak reply. “I’m okay.”
The teenage boy came padding out into the living room looking a bit pale about the same time Steve came in to meet him. Catherine had met Nahele a handful of times the previous summer. He and Steve were close, and it felt like Steve had taken him under his wing. They tossed a football back and forth and Steve had invited him over for dinner more than once, claiming he wanted to make sure he was eating. It was good to see that relationship didn’t dissipate after she left. It was good for the boy.
Steve cupped his face and Catherine’s eyebrows shot up at the familiarity. They had gotten a lot closer, apparently.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Nahele sighed. “Just another bout of it, I think.”
“Do you want some medicine?” Steve asked.
“Nah,” He said. Steve gave him a look. “I will if it happens again, okay?”
Steve did that thing with his jaw, the thing that told you he was kind of annoyed but was going to surrender. He dropped his hand from his face to his shoulder and it still felt too familiar. “Fine, but I’m going to hold you to it.”
It was about then that Nahele noticed Catherine. He even did a double take.
“What’s she doing here?” He asked, not taking his eyes off of Catherine.
She felt very exposed, all the sudden.
“She just showed up and if you don’t-”
Steve was interrupted by some kind of clanging of wood up the stairs. Catherine jumped at the sound, but Steve and Nahele only grinned.
“Steve!” She could hear Danny yelling from outside.
“I heard!” Steve yelled back.
Nahele smiled.
Steve turned to him, “Like clockwork!” Then he started up the stairs when the sound happened again and Nahele chuckled. He had made it about five steps, high enough that he had to duck under the landing to look at her again and said, “Stay right here, yeah?”
She nodded and was left with a very judgmental-faced Nahele.
“So,” She started. “What’s the occasion?” She motioned to the back yard.
“I was adopted today,” He told her.
She felt her mouth drop. She wasn’t expecting that. “This is your adoption party? You were adopted?” She made an aborted move to cup his shoulder; she had only met him a handful of times a year ago. “Congratulations!”
He smiled, “Thank you.”
“So does Steve know your new parents, or-“
He let out a chuckle in a silent huff, “You can say that.”
He silently giggled for a moment when it hit her. The balloons outside, Steve’s announcement he was the new father, and, she was a little slow on the uptake today, it seemed. Her face fell into shock. “Steve adopted you.”
Nahele’s smile, proud and fond, grew slowly before he nodded.
“Good for you,” She found she meant it. “Good for both of you.”
Don’t have attachments.
Steve had moved on without her. He told her that he would. She was so very happy for this smiling boy in front of her. She remembered how timid he was, how sad his story was, how he looked at Steve like he was his white knight pulling him out of the unfairness of it all. She was honestly happy for Nahele. She glanced up the stairs, wondering where Steve was, if his need to help people had led to a right decision for him. This was positively the best thing for Nahele, but was it the same for Steve?
They stood awkwardly for a few moments before, “Don’t you want to get back to your party?”
He shook his head, “I’m not missing this.”
She bit her lip at that. They both knew it meant he wanted to see her reaction to something and she had no clue what it was. Was it just because she was back? Or was it something more? Another surprise on top of learning Steve had adopted a teenager. She scratched the back of her neck out of awkwardness.
Then she started to hear steps coming down the stairs, slowly, one by one. It was Steve, coming back from whatever that sound was, when she noticed Nahele grinning at her, like he was enjoying this… whatever was happening.
She was not prepared to see Steve holding a baby.
Steve, it seemed, wanted to see her reaction too, wearing the same kind of knowing grin.
“Catherine,” He started, not even down all the steps. “I want you to meet my sons. Nahele,” He motioned towards the boy, “And Jack.” He bounced the baby in his arms and the baby threw his arms up in some kind of celebration, like he was happy to be fresh from his nap.
Two kids. Steve adopted two kids. Wh-
“Is he your little brother?” She asked Nahele.
“He is now,” He said proudly.
“Not blood related.”
Nahele frowned. “We don’t have to share blood to be brothers.”
“Of course,” She caught herself. Then she turned on Steve. “I understand you adopting Nahele. In hindsight, that’s where that was going when I was here last,” She told him. Nahele straightened his back at that before glancing up at Steve before looking down again. “But why did you adopt a baby?”
It was Steve’s turn to frown, and he looked at Jack in his arms with a seriousness that she had never seen on his face before. She had seen him in combat, stern and detached. She had seen him chasing down murders, fierce and determined. She had seen him in interrogations, powerful and foreboding. She thought she had seen ever shade of serious he had to offer the world, and yet.
He was thoughtful and looked…
He looked like he was full of adoration.
He had never looked at her like that.
“Well,” He started, bouncing him again when the baby patted his face gently with his hand. There was a moment when Steve grabbed the hand gently with his mouth and quickly let it go. Then he opened his mouth in shock to mirror Jack’s face. Jack giggled in response and Steve smiled openly and happily.
Fatherhood looked good on him.
Her heart hurt.
“He deserves to be happy,” Danny had told her.
“Well,” He started again. “Among other reasons including but not limited to ‘I fell in love with him’ and ‘I wanted to give him a stable life and home,’” He looked up at Nahele with the same seriousness and Nahele preened under the gaze. “But also…” He let out a sad little chuckle before looking up at her sadly. “…I like the feeling of being needed.”
It hit her so hard, so fast in the gut that she almost doubled over.
He turned to Nahele, like he hadn’t even thrown a punch, holding up a diaper, “Do you know where the wipes we bought yesterday are?”
Nahele thought for a minute before scrunching up his face, “I think I saw them in the pantry?”
“What are they doing there? They aren’t food.”
He shrugged. “What’re your protein bars doing in there?” He grinned as he said it.
Steve’s face blanked before, “Hey!”
Nahele laughed openly and Steve’s face went soft at the sight. He threw an arm around the boy, pulling him close, and kissing his head. She understood the familiarity now.
“You need to stop listening to Danno, I swear.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him that you said that I shouldn’t listen to him,” He said with another grin.
“Oh, god, please don’t,” Steve’s face fell. Nahele laughed again. Then he glanced up at Catherine, nodding towards her. “You okay that she’s here or-“
“Oh, no,” He turned to her. “You can stay. Might make the day more memorable.”
Steve took in a very measured breath and let it out in a fast sigh, “Why do you make things uncomfortable for me?”
He grinned. “Isn’t that what kids are supposed to do to their parents?”
Steve took half a beat before he smiled, “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?”
Nahele rolled his eyes with a smile before turning to her. “Come on, I want to see everyone’s faces when they see that you’re here.”
He liked making things awkward for her as well.
“Are you sure?” She asked. “It is your day.”
He shrugged, made a face, and then nodded, “Come on.”
Steve let him go with a lingering hand on his shoulder, “Go on, then, go make things awkward. I’ve got to change someone’s diaper.”
At his mention, Jack giggled, like he knew exactly what Steve was talking about. Steve threw him a frown and Jack smacked his face again. He threw his head, like the hit hurt him, and Jack frowned, reaching out for him. Jack pulled on his face and Steve let him and Jack placed a wet, sort of kiss on his cheek. Steve pulled back in awe, before pulling the baby’s head forward with his own hand, kissing him quick and sweet on his head.
Fatherhood looked really good on him.
“Who’da thought, Steve McGarrett changing dirty diapers,” She said.
He took several beats to recover, his face fell, and then his smile came back softer, like maybe he was remembering something. “I’m faster than Danno.”
“I’m sure you are,” She praised.
Nahele led her through the kitchen (with bottles drying on the counter and a high chair in the corner, this was real, this was very real and not a dream) and outside where all the talking just kind of… stopped one by one as everyone noticed them.
“This is Steve’s ex-girlfriend. She came to say ‘hi,’” Nahele said, obviously thrilled. He then moved quickly through the shade of the lanai, around the table and then sat back and clasped his hands with a grin, like he was about to watch a show.
Catherine gulped.
She was sure he was.
Kono (holy shit, Kono was pregnant. She was very pregnant!) was the first to react, and she reacted by laughing into her glass of water.
“Where’s your father?” Danny asked Nahele through gritted teeth.
The grin on his face was wide at the question. “Changing Jack,” Nahele said happily.
“Why are you happy?”
“Because the attention is no longer on me, once again,” He said with a grin.
Danny’s face fell, “Nahele.”
Chin moved towards her then, saving her, “Aloha,” He held his arms open and she hugged him easily.
“Aloha,” She greeted back, thankful someone came to her rescue.
“Catherine,” Lou greeted from the yard, raising his beer towards her.
“Lou,” She greeted back, grinning. “How are you?”
“You know, suffering under McGarrett’s leadership.”
The yard laughed at that, and there were several people Catherine didn’t recognize. An elderly couple sitting on the bench in the shade of a palm tree, several kids she didn’t recognize, whom she figured were friends of Nahele’s, several, smaller kids whom she had no idea which adult they belonged to, a man she met once and knew to be Danny’s ex-wife’s husband Stan. Max was standing with an arm around a woman Catherine had never met, and there was a tall woman, blonde and athletic, very much in the middle of what was a pickup game of football.
Catherine’s mind immediately went to ‘new girlfriend,’ but with little to go on, she was unsure.
The whole yard held maybe eight people she could name on sight. The world really did go on without Catherine in it.
Things were starting to get awkward again when Steve came out of the house carrying a happy baby in one hand and two beers in the other. He handed one to Catherine, “As promised.”
She took it with a grin.
He then made a beeline around the table and Kono straight to Danny, handing him the second beer, “As a preventive measure.”
Danny narrowed his eyes, “It’s going to take more than a beer.”
The yard laughed again and Steve grimaced and Catherine didn’t know what that was about.
He sat the beer down on the table before he clapped and reached up for the baby. The baby went with a happy squeal before settling himself down on Danny, laying his head under Danny’s chin. Kono made a coo-ing sound and Catherine had to agree. That baby was adorable. Steve went and stood behind them, setting his hands on the back of Danny’s chair, letting it bounce and rock a bit under his weight.
“Are you-“ Danny turned a bit, “Are you hiding behind me?”
“Yep,” Steve said, not looking at anyone in particular.
The yard laughed again.
Grace was standing in the middle of the yard staring at Catherine, holding the football, and wearing a frown. That threw Catherine, as Grace always seemed to have a smile for her before. She wondered if she was angry at her for leaving. She watched as she threw the ball off to the tall blonde before making her way to the shade of the lanai, going immediately to stand next to her father, instead of moving in to hug Catherine.
The lack of a greeting was not lost on Steve or Danny, but neither of them said anything as she crossed her arms and leaned against one of the posts.
The football game started up again (and the blonde was Australian, imagine that,) the party turned away from its newcomer, and some of the awkward feelings lifted off of Catherine’s chest. That wasn’t so bad.
Kono then made a move to stand up. Adam, in the chair behind her, moved to help her, but she flopped back down with a, “Nope.” She turned to Catherine with open arms.
“You’re coming to me.”
Catherine smiled wide, happy to hug the woman that had come to mean so much to her. “Oh,” She said moving forward and dropping her beer on the table as the yard went back to the festivities, “Happily.”
They hugged, Catherine leaning down and squeezing tight, Kono readily humming into the hug. “I have missed you,” She said. “There are not enough women around here.”
“What about this one?” Catherine said, motioning to her stomach.
“A boy,” Kono said proudly.
“Named ‘Will,’” Danny said, smugly. “After me.”
“That’s not going to get old really fast,” Lou said, not-so-under his breath.
The yard laughed again, except when Danny noticed Steve laughing too, he leaned back and gave him a dirty look. Steve noticed and dropped his laughter with a grimace. Something was going on there; Catherine just hadn’t figured it out yet.
“So how long you got left?” Catherine asked Kono, picking up her beer again.
“Little over two months, if all goes to according to plan.”
Adam leaned forward, grasping her shoulders, “Let’s hope it all goes according to plan. She’s a trooper. I’m freaking out.”
“First one’s the roughest,” Danny said to Adam. “Trust me.” He then grinned over at Grace, but Grace was still too busy frowning at Catherine to notice. Danny bit his lip with worry at the sight, but still said nothing. Jack was busy trying to distract Danny’s sudden frown with hitting his hands on either side of his face and it worked. Danny’s mouth opened into a shocked smile and she watched as Steve looked down at the interaction with fondness.
“There’s only going to be ‘the first one,’” Kono said with conviction. She turned to Catherine, “This pregnancy has been rough, let me tell you.” She grimaced. “Don’t ask me about my second trimester. I get green thinking about my second trimester.”
“Very, very green,” Adam said squeezing her shoulders, speaking like he was telling a war story. Catherine was sure he was. Kono smiled, and reached up to take one of Adam’s hands in hers. Catherine grinned watching the two of them, taking her first sip of beer.
She looked back up to Steve.
Steve was busy looking down at Danny.
“She just showed up!” They were talking lower, but that particular line of defense was a bit louder than the rest of their conversation. Catherine lowered the beer from her mouth with embarrassment. They were talking about her.
“Yeah, okay, but to invite her back here? Today?”
Steve pointed to Nahele, “Nahele said it was okay.”
Danny turned to Nahele, as did the half dozen or so people under the lanai.
Nahele sat up straight. “No!” He whined. “The attention should not be back on me. Steve!” He said pointing up at Steve, eyes darting between Danny and everyone else. “The attention should be on Steve.”
Steve blinked and then pointed at him, “We’re going to talk about this anxiety thing later.”
“Oh, do we have to?” Nahele asked with a grimace.
“Yep,” Steve said, sure.
“It’s one of the reasons why you don’t like going up to bat,” Danny said to him.
“I don’t like going up to bat because I’ve never hit a ball,” He said to him quickly, eyes darting around to everyone under the lanai.
“You’ve never hit a ball because you’re anxious when everyone’s looking at you,” Danny countered.
Nahele squirmed. It was this that finally took Grace’s glare off of Catherine. She breathed a sigh of relief; that girl would make an incredible interrogator someday.
“Is that true, ‘Hele?” Grace asked.
He grinned at her. “It’s easier when everyone is looking at a cheerleader instead.”
She grinned, “That’s not what I asked.”
He shrugged, “It’s no big deal. I’m a catcher, not a hitter. It’s okay, not everyone is.”
“‘Hele,” Steve started.
“Please,” He squirmed again, rubbing his hands on his board shorts. “Not right now? Not today?”
Steve and Danny nodded. It was very domestic. Her heart hurt again. This could have easily been her life. Her life, but a few solid decisions ago. Like she had taken a turn while Steve kept on going and now they may live in the same neighborhood, but were no longer living in the same house. Or even on the same street. It was a bit jarring, that realization. She took a long sip of her beer.
“That’s fine,” Danny said, readjusting to get a better look up at Steve. “The attention can be all over Steve right now.”
“Can it not be?” He asked, standing up, waving his hands around in a move he totally learned from Danny. “Can we just… talk about it later?”
“No,” Grace spoke up.
Steve turned to look at her of absolute shock, “Betrayer.”
She let out a soundless giggle at that, smiling wide.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” First to Grace, then to Nahele. Then he looked down at Danny, quieter, softer, “Nothing.”
“Right,” Danny said, unbelieving.
“Oh for the love of-“ Steve stopped himself, turning Danny’s swivel lawn chair around, Danny turning with shock all over his face. Then put a hand on either side of Danny, resting himself on the arms, and ducked down and kissed him.
They were at an angle, and she got more of Steve’s face than she did Danny’s, but it looked like a very nice kiss. She remembered Steve’s kisses, wet and soft and the full, center of his attention.
She did not feel jealous, it felt like everything clicked. She had even joked about it more than once, maybe even encouraged it on occasion. How many times had Danny been talking and said 'our car,' looked up to see her, corrected himself to 'his car,' and then lost his train of thought for several seconds. Like he was already thinking in terms of 'we' and shouldn't because Catherine was there. Nodding, she looked down at the beer in her hands.
“He deserves to be happy,” Danny told her. Looks like he followed through on his declaration, if the smile on Steve’s face when he pulled back was anything to go by.
Steve’s kisses were wonderful, but Danny, however, recovered quickly, “Have you told her about us yet?”
“That was me telling her.”
Catherine couldn’t help it. She laughed. She couldn’t look up at anyone, and she covered her mouth, and she laughed.
Rule number two, know when to back away. This time, she was happy to.
“Grace,” She heard Danny say. “Remember when you and I were talking about ‘avoiding emotional conflict?’”
“Yeah.”
“This is what it looks like.”
That only made Catherine laugh harder, and the yard join her in laughing.
Later, about halfway through her beer, and pleasantries, and hugs, (and a promise to Kono that she’d email her at least once a month, only if Kono emailed her baby pictures) she made her way through the house, inspecting all the new pictures. Some of them she recognized from Danny’s home, others were new.
She peeked in the downstairs bedroom. She saw a guitar on the dresser, and boat models on the self on the wall, and a blazer laid over the back of chair, and hastily taken off dress pants thrown flat on the bed, and she realized this wasn’t just a cleaned out room, it was a lived in room, this was Steve’s room. Steve’s room with Danny.
She backed away, feeling like it was too personal, and wondering why Danny never told her he could play the guitar.
It made her curious, though, what was made of their old room.
That thought hit her funny. Why did she think about it in terms of ‘them?’ She didn’t back then, why did she now? She made her way upstairs, through a baby gate (a baby gate in the McGarrett house, who would’ve thought) and their (his) old room looked like it belonged to a teenage boy. Nahele’s room, then. Baseball everywhere with text books on his desk and a shelf full of fictional books and an old laptop, plugged in and charging. The boy was a reader, that much was obvious. A reader and very neat. His bed was made, his suit, probably from his day in court (Steve was a dad) laid out arranged on the covers.
Going further down the hall, she peeked in Grace’s bedroom, lived in, and nothing like it would be if she visited every weekend. There was a shelf on the wall that held a cheerleading trophy, and her pom-poms hung from it with care. Her dresser and wardrobe were overflowing with clothes, her bed was unmade with another old laptop thrown hastily on it, and her desk had a mirror set on it against the wall in a make-shift vanity with a little bit of make-up and hair brushes cluttering the top of it. Grace lived here.
‘The baby had to come from somewhere, though,’ She thought as she turned around to a new view. The wall at the end of the landing was closer than she was expecting, and the single door was surrounded by toys organized neatly against the walls, like the landing was a playroom. Steve had built a room in his house. His father’s house. The one she was sure he’d never change in any real way because it meant he had settled.
The door was open, and she could see a crib from where she stood, so she moved closer to investigate.
A crib, a changing table, the dresser she recognized from their (Steve’s) old room, and another twin size bed. A giant shark hung from the ceiling over the bed, and a fish tank holding several fish sat against the far wall, bubbling every so often. There was a window open to the back lanai, letting the fresh ocean air into the room ever so often on a breeze. There were several toys scattered on the floor, but Charlie must sleep in this room. His bed was unmade; fancy clothes were thrown on the covers, abandoned for the play clothes he was wearing now.
“We didn’t want the babies in a room with an outside door,” Steve said from behind her, causing her to jump. He was standing, leaning against the doorway, with his arms crossed.
“That’s smart,” She said, catching herself. “But a teenage boy?”
Steve smirked, “He knows better. There’s also a lock on the outside and only Danny and I have the key.”
“Also smart,” She smirked.
“So why’d you really come, Cath?”
She hummed, “You know, before I met you, no one called me ‘Cath.’ It was Catherine, or Cat, but never ‘Cath.’”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be,” She smiled. “I always liked it.” She reached up and touched the shark, and it moved back and forth like it was swimming underwater. “A little scary for a kid’s room, don’t you think?”
“Charlie loves it,” He said with a chuckle. “He built it with Stan, and I think it helps having it here, knowing that.”
“Yeah,” She started. “How’s that work, with Danny and Stan…”
He shrugged. “We make it work. He’s here full time, and Rachel and Stan each get a weekend a month. Stan’s always traveling, and Rachel’s lucky to have that.”
“I feel like there’s a story there,” She said, taking a sip of her beer.
“You don’t have enough beer left for me to tell it,” He said seriously. She looked down at her beer, sad. Really only one beer, then. “So why’d you really come here?”
“I don’t know,” She said, honestly. “Old habits, I guess. I can’t believe you’re a dad.”
“I didn’t know how badly I wanted to be a dad,” He shot back.
“I didn’t realize the ‘bromance’ was that serious.”
“It’s not a ‘bromance.’ It’s a romance. A real one. A real love. Not a fantasy or a lie or something to do while we do other things.” That was a cheap shot, but she knew it was at both of them, at shot meant for himself as much as it was for her. “It’s real, and it’s work, and… I… I…”
“Are you happy?”
He looked around the room, taking it all in. Charlie’s toys, Jack’s slept in crib. He looked behind him, towards Grace and Nahele’s rooms, and the yard below them laughed again, floating in through the boys’ open window.
“Yes.”
“Good,” She said, sadly.
“You know, I used to think about a room like this, with you standing in it, but the baby in the crib was ours.”
She couldn’t help it, her eyes started to water. “I never did,” She confessed.
“That’s okay,” He said, unmoving. Like he believed it. “Sometimes people want different things. I wanted this kind of need from my life. You wanted a… ‘little of this, little of that’ kind of need.” He said it like maybe he knew what she was.
She felt her breath hitch; she hadn’t felt this since the last time she was here. This pain that came with knowing she didn’t want this sort of life with the sort of man that stood in front of her. It would be a perfectly good life with a perfectly good man. It was a life that everyone wanted. It was a life that everyone wanted… except her.
“I want you to be happy too, Cath,” He said, seriously, like he meant it, like maybe he was a little sad for her.
She wiped at a rebellious tear. “I tried with you, I really did.”
“I know.”
“When I’m out there, I am happy.”
“Good, then I’m happy for you,” He said, and she believed him. “Grace told me, once, that sometimes people just aren’t meant to be a couple forever, but they were always meant to be together, while they were together.” He shrugged and chuckled, “I think it’s something Danny probably told her during the divorce. But I still like it.”
“So why were we together?”
“So we could figure out what we wanted,” He said honestly. “So I could know I wanted this kind of life,” He motioned around them. “And you could figure you wanted…”
She grinned, “‘A little of this, a little of that?’”
He grinned back, conspiratorial. Oh yeah, he knew very well what she was. They shared a laugh at their joke. Catherine felt lighter than she had in years. It was nice someone finally knew, even if there was plausible deniability involved. In that moment she knew this was the first time she was honest with this man for over a decade.
It felt like they were friends.
She looked down at her beer and took a long, nice gulp.
“If you wanted to stop by every now and then, share a beer, I wouldn’t mind,” He told her. She breathed a sigh of relief. 'Don't call any one place home,' Well screw the rules, she'd already broken the cardinal one anyway with the man in front of her, with half a dozen people downstairs. “I doubt Danny would mind a beer either, for that matter. But you and I…” He shook his head. “We aren’t… We’re not going to… We’re never going to…”
“I know,” She said, finally putting a nail in it. The box that was their relationship was finally closed, and for good this time. She opened another one marked ‘friend’ with a joyful glee.
“I think I’m always going to love you a little bit,” She told him.
“Likewise,” He replied.
Finishing a beer had never been so satisfying. She went back to her hotel room and made a report. It was her one, final gift to the relationship.
(“Met with asset S. McGarrett. Asset compromised. Asset is no longer fit to be a possible agent.” –R
“Explain.” –D.C.
“If you want an update on your son’s life, Doris, pick up a damn phone.” –R)