Disclaimer: I don't own anything; all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).

A/N: Thanks for reading! Special thanks to Diana for all the support.

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There's a different print on the wall. It's just a picture of a window, but it's a lot more cheerful than the last one, so she'll take it. Too much time staring at those rusty train tracks could make anyone feel depressed. I mean, people kill themselves by jumping in front of trains all the time. Then again, there's probably even more people who jump out of windows. Maybe someone should suggest a new decorator. It is, after all, a shrink's office; wouldn't want the patients to get any ideas.

This is her last session and Dr. Hale seems more uptight than usual, like she's figuring out how to say something. Kono just sits, staring at the new print serenely.

"Do you feel like you've made any progress?" Dr. Hale asks eventually, looking down at her notes.

"I guess so." Kono admits generously, feeling kind of sorry for the doctor. There she sits, in a pathological search for validation so severe she actually had to make a career out of it, and Kono is being all sane and untroubled. Shucks.

"I've been dealing with things a lot better." She adds, to make it more believable. Dr. Hale does not look convinced. Maybe she should work on her acting skills?

"Do you feel like you've been honest during these sessions?" the doctor asks in a carefully neutral voice but Kono can see Hale's really upset that she hasn't gotten her to open up and spill all her childhood traumas. Aw. How sweet. Didn't know you cared so much, doc.

"I've been as honest as I can be to someone who is obligated to report back to HPD." Kono explains flatly. And that's the best deal you're ever gonna get, lady. So suck it up.

Dr. Hale doesn't look too surprised to hear this, although she does raise her eyebrows in a perfunctory reaction. She claps her pen, puts her notes down on a side table, looks at Kono for a minute.

"I have to tell you, Kono." She says after a while. "What concerns me about you is your ability to either rationalize or else completely ignore anything you deem unpleasant. I'm sure you can see how that is a potentially dangerous way to deal with things."

Kono considers this for a second, which is a second longer than necessary. "Look, Dr. Hale. I like you. I've been as open as possible. But thinking you know anything about me, about how I deal with unpleasant situations, after a few months is…pretty laughable." She says and, to hell with it, she leans forward in her seat, clenching her fingers into fists, all fidgety and shit. She's trying to make a point here.

"I shot someone, and I dealt with that, because that's my job." Kono says, because it's really as simple as that. She's, like, the definition of a well adjusted person. "And frankly, that is the only thing I believe you are qualified to know about my life." She concludes sharply. She glances at the clock, gets up to grab her jacket.

"I believe our time is up."

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Steve is rearranging the furniture in his office. The official reason is: there's a draft. No, seriously. That's what he tells Danny when he asks, and Chin, and even Kono. Nobody but Danny bothers to tell him he's not making any sense.

"Seriously" Danny is saying perplexed, "why are you doing this? Is it Feng Shui? Is your desk not facing east for optimal productivity? Is something blocking the flow of chi in the room? What?" At this point, Danny realizes that everyone has turned to look at him funny because he sort of blushes and smoothes down his tie nervously.

"What? A man can know about these things." He frowns, defensive. "I have hobbies, interests, I am a well-rounded individual."

"That's good to know, Danny." Steve says seriously, dragging his chair across the room. "No, really. You never know when your knowledge of interior design could come in handy. It's good to have an expert at hand."

"You're mocking me, that's…real mature, by the way. But it's fine, you know what? Feng Shui has changed my life. I used to get these terrible headaches, which I thought, working with you? Kind of a package deal, but I moved my bed around, and poof! Headache's gone. So go ahead, mock all you want, while I enjoy my headache-free life."

"I think I might be getting a headache." Chin remarks ruefully at Kono who gives him a sympathetic look and hands him some aspirin she keeps on her top drawer for this sort of thing.

"Look, all done." Steve says with finality. He hasn't actually changed that much, just turned his desk around to face left and—Ohmygod, that idiot! This is so mortifying. She can't believe he did this. Seriously, this is so unprofessional, why? WHY on earth would he do such a thing? She glares at him murderously, hoping no one else has figured it out.

Steve sits down in his chair, trying it out. "See? No more draft." He says, sounding pretty pleased with himself, gesturing wide. Danny runs a hand through his hair in exasperation and declares he's getting lunch. Chin almost sighs in relief and goes back to his paperwork, but Kono is still staring at Steve, waiting.

And sure enough, when Steve looks up from his desk, he's staring right at her, smirking. She glares back. That sappy idiot. He sees her glaring, and breaks into a smile, acting comically surprised. Kono is not buying it.

"Look at that!" He says cheerily. "I have a clear view of your desk, Kalakaua."

"Yeah, imagine that." Kono says dryly. "How will I ever concentrate now?"

Steve spends the rest of the day staring at her, not getting anything done.

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They're having a barbeque at their place, because everyone else is too lazy to host it or deal with the clean up afterwards. Steve is at the grill, in the middle of a long winded dispute with Danny about how his hotdogs compare to New Jersey hotdogs. Unfortunately, Kono has to hear this sort of stuff a lot at work, so she's trained herself to tune it out.

She's in the kitchen, chopping up things for a salad in case anyone decides they want to try to eat better, maybe make it to forty. Grace is with her, leaning against the counter and pretending to help.

"Babies make a lot of noise." Grace remarks, seemingly out of the blue. Kono looks over at her with a puzzled expression, and sees the girl looking back at her expectantly.

"O-kay…" Kono says, bemused. "What made you think of that?"

Grace gives an exaggerated shrug. "I just thought I should tell you. My friend Tommy has a baby brother, and he cries all the time. And his mum has to stay at home, taking care of him all day long, and she had to quit her job."

Kono stops chopping and turns to look at Gracie, because obviously there's something going on here and she's not getting it. Is Rachel pregnant or something?

"Gracie" Kono starts hesitantly "do you want to talk to me about anything?"

Grace rolls her eyes as if Kono is the one not making any sense here.

"I just think you should know, because if you have a baby you won't have so much time to take me to football games and teach me how to surf."

Okay. There's been some serious miscommunication here.

"Grace, sweetheart. Noone's having a baby." She says, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, because Grace is being all cute and insecure. Grace looks at Kono steadily, as if trying to see if she's lying and finally nods, satisfied.

Kono sighs in relief and goes back to chopping carrots.

"You should tell Uncle Steve, though." Gracie adds thoughtfully. "Because when I was outside, he was telling dad you'll have to look for a bigger house when you have kids."

WHA—"Ow!"

Great. Now she's bleeding.

In other news, Steve has apparently decided they're having kids WITHOUT EVER TALKING TO HER ABOUT IT.

That's just…great. Fucking typical. HOW does she even get herself into these situations?

"Grace, honey? Can you grab me a band aid?" She asks calmly. She looks through the window at Steve who sees her staring and waves, grinning widely and looking stupidly happy.

Whatever. He's still a douchebag.

"And maybe tell Uncle Steve I'm going to murder him?"

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The End