Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, Hawaii Five-0.

Note: I truly believed that this part would wrap up the story, but it was hovering at 70k and not even close to being done. It was also seriously stressing me out as I tried to edit, so I finally decided to break it off here. That means the Valentine's Day stuff isn't in this part. And.. ugh... I hate long explanations!

If you are still here, I thank you. Please enjoy.

You Owe Me
Part 22

By
N. J. Borba

"Are you upset?" he asked as they skirted the dirt road.

So far they had mostly been able to stay behind a bank of heavy vegetation. And, more importantly, they'd managed to remain out of sight. They had ditched their hijacked vehicle over a mile back. It might have been a faster mode of transportation, but there'd been no way to be certain it didn't have some sort of tracker on it. So they were on foot for the time being.

A small noise slipped past her lips.

It was more scoff than chuckle, although their current situation did lend a certain degree of hilarity to it. Bordering on the absurd. Her heart was still beating wildly despite the fact they'd evaded death a half hour ago. Probably because she knew danger lurked everywhere they turned, and being alert kept her heart racing, which kept her alive. But the adrenaline of the situation also had her on edge, which meant she was worried. And her worry was focused more on him than herself at the moment.

"Why would I be upset?" she managed to speak without too much irritation in her tone, "You left me to fend off about half a dozen guys with very large automatic weapons while you took care of one man," Catherine shrugged, "Not much to be upset about."

Steve pushed a large palm branch out of the way, stepped forward, and held the branch back for her.

He eyed her as she passed, "So you are upset?"

"I'm not…" she sighed but kept moving, weapon still slung over her back and sore shoulders. Her cracked ribs ached like crazy, but she pushed through the pain, "I'm not upset with you, I don't think… but…" Catherine shrugged again, though it hurt to do so, "Maybe I am."

"Thanks for clearing that up for me," he responded, a modicum of derisiveness edging his tone. Steve let go and the palm branch sprang back into position behind them as they trekked onward. They kept a steady pace, but he took some time to deliberately scatter dirt over their tracks.

"You risk your life a lot, Steve," she finally tried to put her thoughts and feelings into more words, at least a few that made some sense. Although she knew very well that when it came to the hot-headed former Navy SEAL her feelings didn't make a whole lot of sense. "I know it's your job most of the time. And in this case I know it's about bringing a friend home, which I would never try to stop you from doing. In fact, I'm right here with you on this one. I just wish… sometimes I wish you didn't always risk your life so much." A tiny drop of rain hit her forehead as they continued to plod forward through the North Korean jungle, "But then… you wouldn't be you."

He stopped and reached for her, wrapping his fingers loosely around her wrist. His eyes locked with hers again, "Cath, I'm really sorry about what happened earlier. I'm sorry…" he hesitated slightly, "Sorry if you were afraid."

She flashed a quick closed-mouthed grin his way, knowing he never set out to intentionally upset her or put his life on the line without a good cause - also knowing she could never stay upset with him for long. He was just doing what he always did, as she'd noted. And she loved him for it, even if she did also hate him for it. Her left hand took his and gave it a quick squeeze before her gaze diverted to the south, over her shoulder.

"Where to now?" Catherine questioned.

It was a lot easier to get his bearings than to face the worry still showing behind her dark eyes, so he focused on the out she'd just given him. He focused on getting them the hell out of North Korea – all three of them. "We'll have to wait, hide out until nightfall. I just killed Ji-Woon, so I'd say it's a safe bet we pissed those guys off back there. Some of them might be out looking for us right now," he needlessly informed her. "We'll need to lay low and… and finish digging up Freddie's remains tonight. Then we need to get back to the jeep."

"In the dark?" she wondered.

"If you think you're up for it?" Steve questioned.

Catherine's reply was a quick nod, no hesitation at all. "I can handle it. If it means getting Freddie home, I think you already know I'm up for that."

"Yeah," he nodded, using both hands to part the thick stalks of tall grass as they resumed walking.

Steve knew what she could handle, and what she could accomplish - what she had already accomplished.

As they moved quietly through the jungle his thoughts slipped back to a few days ago.

He heard a light tap on the glass of his office door and glanced up. Steve smiled and immediately waved her in.

"They agreed," she said upon entering.

"Huh?" Steve questioned her vague statement.

The glass door swung shut behind her and she stood there looking pleased, dressed in casual jean shorts and a tank top, her hair slightly damp and braided messily down her back. "I was out surfing in Waikiki this morning, a rare moment off duty," Catherine rambled a bit at first, "But the second I stepped back on shore, I… I got this strange feeling," she tried to explain, shaking her head, "I went straight for my cell phone and sure enough I'd missed a call with a familiar prefix. I plopped myself down on the beach right there and dialed the number back. The man on the other end of the call went on at length, but…" she finally smiled, "They agreed."

"Who agreed to what now?" Steve was clearly still confused despite her tale of surfing and a phone call. He eyed her from across a stack of files heaped atop his desk. Paperwork was something he loathed more than just about anything and he put it off as long as possible, which usually meant several days' worth of the stuff stacked up and vying for his attention.

"North Korea has agreed to a trade," Catherine's words expelled with a rush of excitement, as well as a slight bit of fear as to how the whole thing would actually go down, "Freddie's body in exchange for two of the hackers I mentioned several months ago."

"Shit!" he shot to his feet, standing behind his desk, heart rate having jumped up at the same time, "Are you serious?"

Catherine looked him in the eye, her smile gone. "I wouldn't joke about this."

He gave a quick nod, still trying to wrap his head around the extraordinary news she'd just delivered, "I didn't think you would, I just…" Steve took a few steps away from his desk. Sorrow, happiness and a little bit of fear mixed together in his stomach, creating an odd sensation as he contemplated the impact of her words. "I didn't think it would actually happen," he revealed in a soft tone of voice as he finally finished the short trek across the room.

Steve stood directly in front of her.

"State department agreed you and I could be the ones to escort him home," she glanced up at him.

A combination of pride and sadness reflected in her eyes.

His hands reached for her, skimming lightly along her shoulders, "I don't know how to thank you, Cath," Steve's voice crackled a little with the confusing amount of emotions flooding through his system at the moment.

"You know you don't have to, but…" she pressed her palms against his chest as her lips quirked slightly to the left in an uncertain grimace, "We have a long flight ahead of us, and some serious finger crossing to do in order to make sure this doesn't all fall apart. State Department put a lot of effort into making sure this goes down right, but the North Koreans could still change their mind at any time. As you well know, they're unpredictable."

He sighed, "Understood."

She smiled warmly for him, pushing aside her doubts for the time being, "Hey," her voice turned softer, but no less insistent, "I'm putting my faith in the State Department this time," Catherine let him know, hoping her words would be a comfort to him.

Steve gave a small nod to reinforce her confidence.

"He's coming home," she concluded.

Steve gulped, swallowing a lump of emotion. Her confidence that day, just a few days ago, had buoyed him for the trip.

Catherine had been right to trust the State Department; the deal had gone through as planned. But they'd all been suckered into believing a fair trade would go down with the North Koreans.

Now, instead of putting his faith in the State Department, Steve put his faith where it rightfully belonged.

He put his faith in Catherine.

They walked for another half hour until finding a group of trees to serve as a hiding spot. They were still several hundred yards away from Freddie's body, but Steve figured they needed to steer clear of that exact spot until anyone who might be searching for them gave up, which he hoped would be by nightfall or shortly thereafter. The trees were a huddled group of three that formed a triangular space just large enough for the two of them to sit down and spread their legs out. Plenty of tall bamboo stalks, palms and grasses kept them well hidden.

Several broad palm leaves directly overhead kept most of a drizzling rain off them.

But they were already rather drenched from their walk.

Steve watched Catherine lean heavily against one of the trees as she sucked in a sharp breath. He noticed the pull of her lips to the right, a contortion caused by pain. But he knew better than to ask about her injured ribs. She'd likely swat his hands away, and he didn't have anything to help. No pain relievers and no ice packs. "You hungry?" he asked instead, unzipping one of the cargo pockets on his pants near his thigh.

"Depends," she shifted a little to try and find a more comfortable spot. "What's on the menu?"

"A very fine vintage of oatmeal-raisin granola bar," he smiled while handing her one.

"Yum, my favorite," Catherine's tone was decidedly sarcastic, but she tore into the wrapper and took an eager, crunchy bite. The sound seemed to echo across the jungle. She did her best to chew a little quieter. Even the smallest of sounds could alert their enemy. After she swallowed, her eyes caught Steve's, "You couldn't have found a chewy version?" she spoke softly.

His head shook, a grin still in place as he kept his voice low, "Not a lot of choices," Steve pointed out. "We were lucky that dive we found Frank in had any kind of provisions other than rice wine and snake's blood."

"I wouldn't mind a little rice wine or even some grilled snake at the moment," Catherine responded as her stomach gave a corresponding growl, "I've heard snake tastes like chicken," she tried to make conversation.

"Lies," Steve immediately informed her, "I've eaten snake before and it tastes like… snake," he gave a small shudder at that memory and then waved a hand at her granola bar, "Just eat what you have and be thankful."

She gave a weak nod, "I am, thank you," Catherine said before trying to chew quietly again.

He devoured his granola bar and could've eaten another dozen or so, but Steve left the last two bars in his pocket untouched. There was no way to know how long it might take to complete their mission. If all they had to do was gather Freddie's remains and make it back to the jeep then they could potentially be back within twenty-four hours. But if they came across any more foes he really didn't want to think about the consequences. In fact, he didn't want to think about the fact that they might not make it back at all if they ran into trouble again. They'd gotten lucky earlier.

When she'd finished eating, Steve noticed how Catherine tried to stifle a yawn – one hand covering her mouth.

"Come over here," he beckoned; shifting his legs wider so there was room for her to sit.

The sun hovered low in the sky, but still had a while to go before it ducked beneath the horizon.

"I'm fine," she protested, even as a sharp pain radiated outward from the center of her cracked ribs.

"No, you're not fine. Stop being so stubborn for once in your life," he reached out and helped her sit between his legs, her back pressed against his chest. "We have hours before we can make our move, and there's no sense wasting that time. One of us should get some rest. I nominate you," Steve whispered in her ear, "And since it would be my vote against yours… I win."

"What kind of democracy is that?" Catherine wondered, trying to ward off another yawn.

He smiled, seeing the yawn open her mouth wide. Steve sensed the protest in her tense body and ran his hands along her shoulders in an attempt to sooth her, "How about this incentive to vote my way? I'm much more comfy than that tree over there."

"How noble of you to be my pillow, but… I don't need… to rest," Catherine replied in a tone that was already fogged with sleepiness. Despite her words she effortlessly gave in and snuggled against him, too tired to protest.

Steve's hands trailed down her arms and he rested his chin against her left shoulder. He whispered again, "Actually, my offer to be your pillow was very selfish of me. I just wanted to use you as a blanket to keep me warm," he joked, lazily draping one arm across her belly. He was extra careful not to brush against her injured side as he attempted to use his snuggling skills to calm her nerves.

"Pretty sure you don't need a blanket," she spoke softly, feeling her body begin to slow down, heart rate evening out and breathing much more relaxed than just a half hour ago. "It's so hot out here I'm still all sweaty from our days' adventures."

He grinned, "I think that's the rain, but I do enjoy the way the word 'hot' rolls off your tongue," Steve whispered.

She said nothing in return for a few minutes, knowing he was overcompensating by flirting rather than expressing his true feelings. He'd cried hours ago, finally starting the mourning process for his fallen friend. A process that had been put on hold for over three years. But she could tell he had a long way to go on that front. Catherine didn't want to push him into talking about it at the moment. That conversation would undoubtedly come later, much later. Not until after they were out of North Korea. Not until Freddie was given a proper burial.

Then, hopefully, he'd let her in – let it all out. And she'd be there for him.

"I'll close my eyes," she finally said, "But I doubt I'll sleep."

"Just try," he implored.

It was quiet for a long time as her body actively fought sleep. She could feel the same from him, his heartbeat a bit calmer but still on alert.

"As SEALs we're trained to endure the greatest stresses and keep going," he spoke in a low, remorseful tone.

Catherine was curious about his words, but she remained silent as he spoke. She listened.

"You can't panic, you have to think clearly and keep moving forward toward the ultimate goal of the mission," he paused a moment, but his voice returned, thick with emotion, "I failed, Cath. I faltered because I was worried about my buddy. I didn't want to leave Freddie behind," the words came tumbling out, "I took a split second longer than I should have to get our man out, and maybe that cost Freddie his life. If I'd left sooner maybe he could've gotten away, maybe he could've hidden out somewhere so I could come back for him later."

Pain seized her, but it wasn't radiating from her injured side. Her heart was breaking. "Steve, you can't do that to yourself… please." Her hands rested against his thighs, doing her best to lend some support, some small comfort, "You can't second guess the situation now."

His head gave a slight nod against her shoulder. "Sleep, Cath," he whispered warmly against her ear, clearly not wanting to talk about it any further.

It was more than she'd been expecting from him so soon, and worse than she'd been prepared for. She closed her eyes with a heavy heart.

In less than five minutes Steve could tell she was asleep, her breathing noticeably calmer. He waited quietly another twenty minutes until he dared pull at her shirt to inspect the wound on her torso. His breath hitched to see the colors had darkened since he'd first looked at it, richer blues, magenta and violet. Steve tried to think of any natural pain relievers that might be in the jungle, but he was drawing a blank. Too many hours on the run and too many raw emotions at his surface were not the best mixture for craftiness.

And they needed to stay put for a while longer.

He pushed her shirt down and nuzzled her neck again. He let her sleep.

It was the most he could do for her at the moment.

Catherine slept restlessly for a while; half aware of the jungle setting where she was reclined against Steve, yet also in a state of dreaming. In her dream she relived the last several chaotic hours of their lives since they'd hiked over the border into North Korea. There was a loud crunch, a twisting of metal and plastic, a squeal of tires - a car crash. Her tender ribs that ached as they walked. There was an echo of gunfire in the distance, and the thrum of her heart pounding in her ears. Then an explosion, which turned out to be their saving grace.

She woke with a small jolt and could see that the deep indigo of twilight had nearly succumbed to an inky black night.

Catherine was vaguely aware of Steve whispering softly in her ear. Her eyes closed again, lulled by his voice.

She thought fleetingly of counting sheep to fall back asleep. Something else filled her mind, though, something much more soothing.

A memory that began and ended with the repetition of ocean waves crashing upon a shore.

Small waves lapped against the shore behind them.

"I like this," she beamed as he carried her bridal-style across the parking lot. Catherine's eyes roamed his body, captivated by how form-fitting the dark tuxedo was on his muscular frame. Catherine had known him to be romantic on almost exactly the same number of occasions as she could count with one hand. But arriving at the shrimp truck on Christmas Eve and scooping her up into his arms had to be the best, by far.

"You like this?" he questioned, a goofy but pleased grin in place - knowing he had her full attention.

"Yeah," she smiled, looking him in the eye, unable to recall the last time she'd been as happy.

Steve carried her over to his truck and managed to open the front passenger door without putting her down. He easily maneuvered her into the seat. "A surprise you finally like?" Steve gave her a quick wink, "I'm shocked," he teased while making a move to close the door.

She grabbed his wrist, keeping him there a moment longer, "Reminds me of the Steve I know you can be," Catherine uttered, "The man I've seen emerge a few times over the years; the one who grilled me a steak on the beach, planned a climbing-picnic adventure in Mumbai, and a relaxing moment alone on the fantail of a ship. You are a romantic guy," she marveled.

He leaned in to capture her lips for a brief moment, savoring the satisfying feeling of being the romantic guy she desired - the one she deserved.

Steve broke away, knowing she also deserved more than just to be swept off her feet.

He closed her door, slipped into the driver's seat and started the engine.

Their friends, still gathered at the beach-side table, slowly faded from sight as he pulled onto the highway.

"Did you really think breakfast-in-a-box at Rainbow was my special plan for your last few days of leave?" he wondered.

Catherine gave a small shrug, "Well, to be honest… yes. You sold it."

He grinned, feeling successful, allowing himself to be genuinely happy for the first time in a very long while.

"So… where are we going?" she asked, "Home… yours or mine… or maybe an actual restaurant?"

"Not telling," his head shook, "It's a surprise." Steve caught the small frown she sported upon hearing that news, but he also noticed how she quickly went back to smiling. That gave him a pretty good idea that she was still genuinely pleased with his efforts. "You can pass some time by changing," he pointed a thumb over his shoulder, "I took the liberty of picking something out for you."

Her eyes narrowed in curiosity, glancing to the back seat where he was pointing. She noticed a hanging garment bag and felt a little annoyed. "I just changed a half hour ago," Catherine said, recalling the gloriously hot shower that had soothed her aching body after her intensely physical fight with Rizzi. "And I can't change clothes in the back of a moving vehicle."

"Why not?" Steve shrugged, "I thought you liked a challenge."

She rolled her eyes at the way he was encouraging her, "It's kind of… illegal."

"You're riding with the head of the 5-0 taskforce, Cath. I'll let it slide just this once," Steve replied, waving a hand along his torso, "I'm in a genuine tux, in case you hadn't noticed. You're going to be underdressed for our evening, as much as I do like you in jean shorts."

"Hmm… you couldn't have mentioned this a half hour ago?" Catherine asked, although she was not terribly upset with him or the request. She thought it over another few seconds, "Just make sure you keep your eyes on the road, mister."

He shrugged, "I've seen you naked before."

Catherine unclipped her seatbelt and hesitantly made her first move toward the backseat, "I meant so we don't get in an accident," she replied.

"I think you overestimate the distractive quality of your naked body," Steve quipped.

She managed to swat the back of his head as she climbed past him.

"Hey," he rubbed his head, "Now that is distracting."

"My mother would kill me if she knew I was doing this," Catherine mumbled as she settled into slightly narrower backseat.

Steve laughed heartily at that comment, "Have you forgotten all the stories you told me about your rebellious teen years?" he called out.

"I was a good kid," she protested.

"Oh, okay," he didn't buy that for a second, "You may have gotten good grades, but I'm pretty sure this doesn't even come close to the beach party you attended in Mexico when you were meant to be spending spring break hiking the Grand Canyon."

She slumped against the backseat and reached to unzip the garment bag, "I regret ever spilling my secrets to you."

He chuckled, catching a glance of her through the rearview mirror. "Do you approve?"

Her eyes widened a little as she spotted the familiar slinky black dress she'd purchased during a mostly drunken tromp through Bangkok, the same dress she'd worn to the governor's charity benefit a while back. Catherine also found a nice pair of heels to go with the dress, even pantyhose. "I didn't realize you had such a good sense of style, sailor," she commented, unzipping and kicking off her ankle boots.

"Actually, just good observation skills and a memory like a steel trap," he pointed to the side of his head, "I've seen you wear that exact combo before. Although I'm not too sure about the hose," Steve shrugged.

Catherine grinned as she shimmied out of her shorts and halter top. She noticed Steve's eyes on her through the mirror again and couldn't pass up the opportunity to sit there in her strapless bra and panties for a moment, giving him a bit of a show. She finally grabbed the dress and winked at him through the mirror, "Eyes front, Commander," Catherine ordered, chuckling when he realized she knew he was starring.

The dress had a built in slip lining and was form fitting, but easy enough to zip up on her own.

She decided against the hose and climbed back into the front passenger seat with heels in hand.

Her seatbelt was re-secured before pulling on the shoes then righting herself in time to realize they'd already gone past her house as well as his. In fact, they were headed out of the city all together. Catherine grinned a little as she realized what direction they were headed. "I think we both might be overdressed for this night," she said by way of sniffing out his plan.

He waved a finger at her, "You think you know, but you don't know," Steve playfully responded.

A small grumble escaped her lips, but she sat back and patiently waited as he drove them along the curved highway, past Koko Head and the lighthouse point turnout, down around the Sea Life Park and then straight on to Waimanalo Beach Park. The windward coast was breathtaking, with a jagged mountain range to the west and the ubiquitous turquoise ocean to the east. It was a distinctly less populated slice of paradise.

"Told you so," she said when he parked the truck.

"This evening can end right now if you don't want your surprise," he warned, sitting back and not making a move to exit the truck.

Her bottom lip bore the brunt of her willfulness as they both sat there a moment, seeing who could out stubborn the other. She stayed in her seat, but strained to glance around the park to see if she could spot anything out of the ordinary. Catherine could see folks roaming along the beach, down the path, and around the small cluster of campsites. She glanced over at Steve again.

He nonchalantly raised his arms and then clasped his hands behind his head, relaxing further into the driver's seat, "I've got nowhere else to be all evening," he sighed, "And this tux doesn't need to be returned until after Christmas."

Catherine chuckled, resigned to let him have his surprise. "It's nice if the guy opens the door for a woman."

Steve grinned, instantly coming back to life. He stuffed the truck keys in his pocket and casually strutted around to her door, opened it and extended a hand to help her down. Steve closed the door and tucked her left hand into the crook of his right elbow as he motioned for them to head slightly north. They walked along the paved path for a few minutes until they reached a covered area, a gathering spot mostly used by locals. He led her further out past the structure and onto the grassy lawn which eventually gave way to sandy terrain.

Playfields lined their left side, the ocean to their right.

"Is there a reason you put me in heels to walk through sand?" Catherine wondered.

Tall and spindly ironwood trees towered over them. Scraggy evergreen branches swayed gently in the evening breeze.

"Is there a reason you keep fighting this surprise when you were disappointed by my Rainbow breakfast?" Steve shot back.

She caught site of the ocean and its bright turquoise waters calmed her, making her wonder why she was being so snippy. "Sorry," Catherine whispered, thinking maybe Ethan's case had rattled her a bit more than she cared to admit. She'd fought off the bad guy and Ethan and his dad had been reunited, but she still felt a little on edge. "Do you feel like this after every job?" she turned to him, "Like it could've ended differently… worse?"

He gripped her hand, realizing what was on her mind, "Pretty much," Steve nodded, "But not so different than a Navy op."

"Except I'm usually behind the scenes for those," Catherine countered, "Not quite as personally connected the way I was with Ethan," she noted.

Steve took a deep breath, unable to argue that point. Although he knew her Navy career was not always spent behind the scenes, Steve also understood that she was less experienced at dealing with the aftermath of a serious case, especially one that put a kid in danger. He opted for distraction, stopping and turning her by the shoulders to face slightly more inland.

Her breath caught and a smile bloomed wide across her face. "Steve…"

His chest puffed out; rather proud of his surprise.

"You mentioned a restaurant with a table and all that…" he waved a hand, "I liked the idea of an outdoor restaurant."

There was a round table set up among the ironwood tress, with a white linen table cloth and two wooden chairs. Real china plates with silver edges, and cloth napkins, adorned the tabletop. Silverware, wine glasses, and four pillar candles that were lit completed the setting. The ocean was only twenty feet away, waves lapping against the shore. And the final touch was a young, sandy-haired man in his mid-twenties; tall and trim, dressed in a crisp white shirt with black vest and trousers. He stood quietly alongside the table.

"A waiter?" Catherine questioned.

"That was part of the deal, right?" Steve walked her over to one of the chairs and pulled it out for her.

"Yes, but…" she looked out at the ocean and realized he'd been sure to give her the seat with a view of Manana Island. Catherine returned her focus to the man who took up the seat across from her. "You had to have planned all this before this morning, before…" Catherine felt a bit sick to her stomach to think he'd had all this in the works while she'd been rather ungratefully starring at her Rainbow breakfast.

He smiled, taking her hand from across the table, "You didn't complain," Steve guessed what she was thinking, "Well, you pointed out a few things you would've liked better, but you were just going to eat your breakfast and let it go."

Catherine nodded, "Spending time with you, no matter where - no matter what we're doing - is enough."

"Which is why you occasionally deserve something…" his free hand waved at the table, "More," he concluded.

"Just occasionally?" she chuckled.

Steve grinned, winking at her.

"Would you like some wine, ma'am?" their waiter asked as he reached for the chilled bottle in a cooler beneath the table.

"Thank you, yes," she smiled at the young man who barely looked old enough to drink. He poured for her and then a glass for Steve.

The waiter looked to Steve for further direction, "Should I serve right away or would you like to wait a few minutes?"

"Um," Steve turned to Catherine who shrugged. His attention returned to the waiter, "Will it stay warm for another… say, fifteen minutes?"

"Absolutely," the young man nodded.

"You can serve in fifteen minutes then," Steve gave a firm nod, "Thank you, Jake."

Jake the waiter took his leave for a moment, slipping in to the back of a white catering van parked nearby.

Catherine sipped her wine, savoring the drink while enjoying the setting, and most of all, enjoying her date. "So, how long has this been in the works?"

"A few weeks," Steve revealed. "Is this a better picnic?"

"There are no waiters at a picnic," Catherine teasingly tossed those words back at him, watching his resulting grin. Her lips curled into another smile, "Sorry I ever doubted you," she held her wine glass out to him, "A toast," Catherine offered up, "You're like a fine wine that gets better with age, specifically, more romantic with age."

"I think that applies to cheese as well," he noted, still smiling, "The better with age part, not the romantic part."

"Could be," she chuckled. "Cheese and wine do complement each other."

Steve gently clinked his glass to hers and they both drank, although he still was not exactly clear on what they were toasting. It didn't matter, though; he could fill a book with reasons to toast Catherine Rollins. "I would like to compliment you on your dress, you look gorgeous."

She felt a flush of excitement roll over her body at his words, touched by them more than she could say, "You've seen this dress before," Catherine settled on their familiar pattern of banter, "Actually, you plucked it from my closet recently."

"Yes," he took another sip of wine and sat his glass down, leaning back in his chair, "But it still looks fabulous on you and that's worth a mention."

His flattery and the few sips of wine helped to relax her a great deal, "You were with me when I bought it in Bangkok," she reminded him.

"And so drunk I barely recall that day… or night… or whatever time of day it was when you bought the dress," Steve shrugged.

"I remember pretty clearly that you went into the dressing area with me while I tried it on," Catherine felt her cheeks heat up a little, "And there was some kissing, a lot of kissing… and some rather inappropriate behavior on your part. At one point you stumbled backward into the dressing room curtain and nearly exposed my nakedness to the entire boutique."

"Ah, yes…" Steve nodded slowly, "I think it's coming back to me now," he grinned, lifting his glass again as he thought about all the adventures they'd experienced together. Steve hoped her being on Oahu would facilitate many more new adventures, "My turn for a toast," he announced, "Which I will put as simply as possible. Welcome home, Cath."

She smiled at that, but was curious, "I've been here for months."

"I know, but we haven't had a chance yet to really relax," he held his glass inches away from hers, "I wanted tonight to be special. I wanted it to be right here on this beach," he extended his glass-free hand toward the water, "Because this view brought you back to me, and this is your home now."

Her eyes never left his, "Yes, it is," Catherine agreed.

"This will always be your home," he added, clinking his glass to hers again.

Catherine drank to that, but she eyed him over the top of her glass. "Steve, the ocean view isn't what brought me home," she revealed.

"Good to know," he nodded, understanding that when she looked him in the eye and said the word 'home' it encompassed more than just Waimanalo beach or even the whole of Oahu. He was grateful beyond words for that honor.

Their waiter returned with two plates.

Steve set his glass down as the food was placed in front of them.

Catherine and Steve each thanked the young man for his service before the waiter disappeared again for a while.

They feasted on Caesar salad, grilled ahi, garlic shrimp scampi with linguini and a medley of roasted vegetables.

"So…" Steve stabbed several veggies onto his fork, "You still want to spend tomorrow with me and Doris?"

"Well," her attention was drawn away from the food for a moment, although she continued to twirl a bit of pasta around her fork, "I want to spend the day with you, so I suppose that means spending it with your mother as well," Catherine agreed.

He chewed his veggies before adding, "I also asked Danny to join us. I hope that's okay? He might not, though."

She smiled; enjoying the garlic scampi and not worrying about it getting in the way of kissing Steve senseless later. "I get you alone tonight, for dinner and…" Catherine shrugged, but her eyes spoke suggestive volumes as to what was on her mind, "Whatever happens after dinner, which I hope involves you complimenting me without this dress on," she set her fork aside and reached for her wine, "As far as tomorrow goes… the more the merrier."

"Adaptable…" he chuckled approvingly, "My kind of girl."

"No, he's not… Steve?"

He was instantly worried as he heard her call his name.

Steve could see her eyes were still closed. She'd fallen asleep a couple hours ago and had woken up once. He'd managed to whisper assurances in her ear that first time, enough to help her fall back asleep. She had slept for at least a full hour after that without a peep, seemingly calm. Two minutes ago he'd felt her shift in his arms, even felt her heart rate kick up beneath his palm that was pressed against her chest.

But now he could see her eyes were still closed, which worried him.

"Cath, you're just dreaming," Steve tried to reassure her. "Why don't you wake up now," he gently whispered.

"Where… no…" she mumbled in her sleep. "Steve, wake up," her voice trembled.

Her fearful tone caused his stomach to ache.

"No, he's not," Catherine spoke again, twisting beneath his hold, "He's not dead… he's not."

That caused him to take further action, shaking her enough to break her out of the nightmare. "Catherine, wake up," he demanded.

The dream faded swiftly as Catherine woke, her breath caught in her throat and her body pitched forward a few inches away from Steve's chest.

"Hey," his voice was a warm balm against her ear and neck as he drew her close against his chest again, "You're okay," Steve did his best to calm her. "We're still in North Korea," he said, hoping to help her get her bearings. Not that being in North Korea was much comfort.

She reclined further against him and exhaled, "I know." Catherine felt foolish. She was meant to be there as a comfort to him.

"Want to talk about it?" he prodded, "The dream?"

Her eyes turned to gaze upward. Night had completely fallen, from the looks of it at least an hour ago. She realized he'd let her sleep a lot longer than he probably should have. She should've woken and kept watch for a while so he could get some rest. Catherine knew him better than that, though. She knew he'd keep going until he finally collapsed at some point, which would most definitely not be until after Freddie was home.

"It was you…" she braved; her tone a meager whisper as she noticed the raindrops huddled on a palm leaf to her left. It had apparently rained a little more while she'd slept. "You were… your body was lying on a beach somewhere. I didn't recognize where we were or…" Catherine tried to explain the dream, "Freddie and I were there to take you home. You were dead."

Steve sucked down the lump in his throat, "It never happened that way," he whispered reassuringly.

Attempting to shake it off, Catherine sat up and stretched as best she could with her sore ribs. "How do we do this?" she turned to face him, noticing a spark of confusion behind his stormy-blue eyes. "How are we going to transport him to the jeep? It's still several miles away. We don't have a body bag or coffin…" Catherine hadn't thought out the details before and she could see from the look in his eyes that he hadn't either.

"We'll figure something out," he replied, grabbing his gun and standing before he gave her a hand up.

"Maybe we should just contact authorities and tell them we got the wrong body, if we explain…" she trailed off, knowing how foolish a thought that was. They'd already toyed with the idea, but it had taken years just to get to the point where the North Koreans had traded for the wrong remains. "Some sort of stretcher then?" Catherine refocused her efforts.

He nodded, thankful for her presence even if she did have doubts. "First we'll scout the burial site, make sure no one is around," Steve stated the plan. There was some small degree of safety in a plan. "Then I'll dig and you can weave."

Catherine actually smiled, "I got an A in my high school home economics class, but it was not a night weaving class."

A tiny chuckle escaped his lips; no doubt some small bit of delirium was slipping into their minds after the ordeal they'd been through. "I have a compact flashlight you can use," Steve let her know, "I can dig fine in the dark."

She gave a firm nod, glad to have a plan, even as ludicrous as it all seemed.

They hiked to the burial spot and scanned the area the best they could in the dark. Not too far away was a small crater where their prisoner had exploded earlier that day in a grenade blast. Rocks, grass and other matter had been scattered all about the area, but Steve had calculated the blast radius so that it hadn't disturbed Freddie's grave. That was his task now. It was his job to disturb Freddie's burial site, and transfer him to a proper one. Steve sunk to his knees again beside his fallen friend. He glanced over to Catherine who was already gathering materials.

Steve looked back down at Freddie and gave his comrade a quick nod before using his hands to commence digging.

Catherine found two bamboo poles that were each roughly six feet long. She gathered a ton of vines and long shoots of grass all while holding Steve's tiny flashlight with her teeth. Gathering had been fairly easy, the weaving took some time. Sinewy vines were braded with spiky blades of grass and even a few roots that had gotten tangled up with her supplies. She tugged at each long braid to test its stability before tying them to the bamboo poles.

After a couple hours her hands ached and her ribs felt like they were on fire, but she had a makeshift stretcher.

It wasn't pretty. It didn't need to be.

Her knees came to rest on the dirty ground beside Steve as she regarded Freddie. Their eyes had long ago adjusted to the darkness and she could see Steve had done a good job of uncovering the remains of his fellow Navy SEAL; his best buddy. "Looks like they brought him here on a tarp?" she noticed the decaying brown nylon item that stuck up around the sides of the body.

"It's tattered," Steve noted, "But I think it will help us move him onto the stretcher in…" he sighed, "Mostly in one piece."

She swallowed hard and ignored the pain in her tired and battered body, as well as the pain in her heart. "Whenever you're ready then," Catherine let him continue to take the lead as she did her best to be supportive.

Steve took a deep breath then moved toward the head of the remains, "Go slowly," he warned.

Her nod was the only answer she gave as she moved toward the bones of Freddie's feet. The gregarious man she'd known looked so much smaller in skeletal form. She closed her eyes a moment and remembered the sound of the man's boisterous laugh, his strong voice, and the huge grin he'd given while proclaiming he'd clean the fish she'd caught on their Florida trip. Those happy memories sustained her as they shifted his remains.

The tarp held for the most part, but it certainly wouldn't have been sturdy enough to carry Freddie's body to the jeep.

They wrapped it over top of him, protecting him from the gentle rain that was beginning to fall again.

"You sure you're okay to do this?" Steve asked from his crouched position near the head of the sturdy stretcher she'd constructed.

"If you lead the way, I've got your back," Catherine assured him. "Let's go home."

He gave a quick nod and stuffed the flashlight into his mouth so it could light their way.

They each reached down to grasp their ends of the bamboo handles, Steve up front and her behind.

They stood in unison and were once again surprised by how lightweight Freddie was.

But as they walked, his memory loomed large in their minds.

000

She woke abruptly; her whole body flinching, arms flailing out from her lap.

Catherine reached out to Steve with her left hand and made contact with his right arm.

He twisted around in his seat beside her, feeling the touch of her warm fingers against his bare arm.

"Hey, Cath," Steve whispered, confused by the fact that her eyes were closed.

Sunlight greeted her even through eyelids that remained shut.

She shifted and slowly opened her eyes to face the sunshine head on, a sliver of light peeking out from beneath the half-closed window shade. It was a sharp contrast to her shadowy dream. The dream had been dark, the kind of vast inky black that left you unable to identify your own hand even as it hovered a half inch from your nose. She let out a slow breath, trying desperately to shove aside the darkness of that dream.

The nightmare.

"You're safe," Steve whispered comfortingly, rubbing her hand as he weaved his fingers with hers, "Want to tell me about it?"

It took another few seconds to realize where they were, even with his calm voice beside her.

They were still on an airplane, their second flight. The first flight had taken them sharply north and west to Los Angeles. This one was transporting them across the Pacific Ocean toward home. Home. Finally. She smiled a little; reaching for the shade and pushing it up to clearly see the vast azure ocean rolling along beneath them. They were closer to the ground than she'd been expecting.

"We're just approaching the big island," Steve informed her, able to see the questioning rise of her brow though she was turned in profile to him, "Only about an hour left till we land on Oahu," he assured.

Her eyes peeled away from the comforting ocean and rested on the even more comforting sight of her husband. "It was Evan this time," she revealed as her head rested against the airplane seat and she sighed. She didn't want to keep things from him, but at the same time she hated telling him. With a bit more effort she expelled the dream fully, "Evan was the one I couldn't save. You know… on the bridge, in the dark."

"Oh," he gulped, not sure what to say to that. The other night it had been him she'd lost in her nightmare, now it was their baby boy. He wished like hell he could make those visions disappear from her memory, even if they were just dreams.

She gave his hand a squeeze, silently letting him know there was nothing he needed to say or do. "I'm surprised Vichy didn't try to take Evan from us, to use our son as a pawn. He must've known we'd do anything to keep the nugget safe."

"Maybe even he had limits," Steve remarked, hating the new topic even more. He was glad Vichy wouldn't be bothering them again. "The boys he took to keep Emerson and the others in line were all between the ages of six and eleven years old. There were no babies," he recalled. A stretch of silence lingered for a moment longer than he would've liked as he tried to find some words of comfort for her, "Evan is fine. He's with Mary and we're going to see him soon. And just like most dreams, this one will fade. Eventually."

She gave him a weak smile, wanting to believe that was true; hopeful that it was possible.

Within an hour they were off the plane and safely on Oahu soil; one step closer to their son.

Steve and Catherine walked hand-in-hand along the airport breezeway that connected terminals, allowing the island's warmth to sooth them.

They had no baggage to wait for, already shouldering the small carry-on packs they'd purchased in Brazil. Packs which contained little more than a soccer ball, a change of clothes each and a box of Dramamine. They'd gone through customs in LA so they didn't have to deal with that arduous process now. All they needed to focus on was heading home, but the ringing of a cell phone cut that focus short.

Steve barely registered the sound at first, not recognizing the annoying chirps of a preset ringtone. It wasn't until Catherine pointed to his left back pocket that he recalled buying the cheap-o international throw away phone in Brazil, just in case. They moved away from the main flow of pedestrian traffic, hugging a wall as Steve pulled the ancient looking flip-open cell phone free.

He wondered who'd managed to get the number as he answered with a simple, "McGarrett."

The voice on the other end of the line wasn't immediately recognizable, but when the man gave his name Steve frowned a little.

Catherine noticed the frown and it caused a bolt of fear to shoot up her spine.

They'd been through too much already. She wasn't sure she could handle anything else going wrong. In an attempt to distract herself she focused on the other travelers moving steadily around them. There was a family of four; mom, dad and two little girls with golden hair shimmering in the sunlight. They had pale skin that was not yet kissed by the Hawaiian sun. The girls laughed and tugged excitedly at their parent's hands as they slipped out of view.

She took a deep breath, wishing to be carefree again like those innocent girls.

Her greater wish was that Evan would remain carefree his entire life.

"Can you confirm…" Steve paused, reaching for her hand again, "No, I understand. Thank you for keeping us in the loop," Steve wound up the short conversation that had been mostly one-sided. "I'll let her know," he ended the call and stuck the phone back in his pocket before facing his wife. She wore a look he'd seen a time or two before, the one that said: I'm worried, but I don't really want you to know I'm worried. He squeezed her hand reassuringly and aimed them back on their previous course toward the airport's exit.

"Steve?" she finally prodded.

"That was agent Donnelley," he let her know; realizing that giving it to her straight was the best way, "He wanted us to know that…" Steve shook his head, but pressed on, "A few of the boys from Lawson's complex have gone missing," he spit out the words quickly, "None of his agents were hurt. He just thinks they've run away. They were in transit to Rio when…"

"Damn," Catherine sighed, instantly feeling guilty. "I knew it wouldn't go so easily. Who was it?" she questioned, "How many boys?"

His head shook, "Donnelley couldn't confirm how many or names, but he said he'd keep us posted. He's got search teams set up," Steve relayed.

She laughed, though it was by no means a joyful sound, "If those boys don't want to be found…"

"Then they won't be found," Steve knew it to be true just as much as she did. "Cath, there's noth…"

"Please, don't," she stopped him, "If you say there's nothing we can do about it I think I might explode right here in the airport."

"That would be messy," he clutched her hand a little tighter and used his thumb to massage softly between her thumb and forefinger, "TSA would probably have a ton of questions for me," Steve kept up the light-touch, the teasing, the joking, anything to get her out of the deeper funk Donnelly's report had just caused. "And I'm way too tired for questioning." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, "We'll figure something out, but at the moment we're heading home to see our boy. Nothing's getting in the way of that."

Catherine exposed a tiny crack of a smile for him, uplifted by her husband's love and the prospect of holding her baby boy again.

A few minutes later they arrived at the ground level transportation area; a bustling hub of cabs, rental car buses and hotel shuttles.

Steve scanned the area, "Danny said he'd be here to pick us up," he reached for his phone again, about to dial the familiar number. Catherine stopped him as she smiled and pointed. He followed her finger to a spot where a beat up white jeep was parked hastily along the curb about a couple yards ahead of them. "Well, I guess it's a ride," Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head.

She let go of his hand as they approached the jeep, her smile widening to see a familiar face; if not the one they'd been expecting.

"Howzit, Catherine?" Kamekona grinned back at her.

Her arms wrapped about his neck unabashedly as she kissed his cheek, standing on her tiptoes to do so. He gave her an equally happy greeting; a great big bear hug. "Kami," she took a step back, "You have no idea how good it is to see you," Catherine whispered, her voice catching a little as she spoke. It felt like they'd been gone a lot longer than a few days.

"Good to see you, too," the big guy nodded enthusiastically.

Steve eyed Kamekona, "What, you're not glad to see me?" he feigned a hurt look.

Kamekona chuckled, still grinning brightly, "Of course I am, but… you know, ladies first," he quipped before taking Steve's outstretched hand. They shook briefly before Kamekona pulled the former Navy SEAL close and bestowed a quick brotherly hug; their hands still clasped. "It's good to see you, too, Commander," the man said as they stepped apart.

"Likewise, Kamekona," Steve gave a nod then motioned toward the jeep, "I'm grateful and all, but where's Danny?" he wondered.

"You know how it goes," Kamekona drawled in his islander intonation. He took Catherine's pack and tossed it into the back of the jeep, "They got a case, I suppose," the big guy shrugged, "All I know is I got a call to come get you and here I am, happy to have you both home again."

With another nod of appreciation, Steve lobbed his pack into the back next to Catherine's and they piled into the jeep.

The vehicle easily maneuvered through the airport traffic and soon enough they were on the highway.

The warm, sweet smelling air was already starting to relax Catherine.

Kamekona made a right turn off the main road about thirty-five minutes later, which put them on the long stretch of driveway that lead to the McGarrett household. Catherine's stomach was suddenly in a knot as she sotted the old white plantation home, though she couldn't figure out why. She was finally home yet nervous for some reason. As if sensing her mood, Steve turned around from his front seat and flashed a grin her way, mouthing the simple words, 'welcome home'. Kamekona parked by the gate, jumped out and handed them their bags.

"This is where I leave you," the big guy smiled warmly, a hand against Steve's shoulder and one on Catherine's forearm. "Be well, okay?"

"We're home, Kami," Catherine beamed, her worry slipping away at that moment, "And as soon as I hold my little nugget I'll be well."

Steve took Catherine's hand as they waved Kamekona off, wishing it could be as simple as she'd just said. He knew they both had some serious healing to do, and not just from their physical ails. For now, though, he wanted to focus on seeing his son just as much as Catherine did. Steve eagerly walked beside his wife, beneath the trellised entry and into the front yard.

The knot in Catherine's stomach instantly returned as she spun around to face the garage and the expanse of driveway. "Steve, where's…" she glanced out at the grassy patch along the right of the driveway where they could park nearly two dozen cars if need be. "Your truck's not here," she noticed.

"Maybe it's in the garage," he felt the doubtfulness of that theory reflected in her hand's tight grip, "Doesn't matter, Cath, we're…"

"What about your mom's car, or…" she paused as her eyes darted across the yard again, "Or my car?" Catherine swallowed hard as they maneuvered the stone path that led to their front door. "Your dad's Mercury is always in the garage. And we told Mary and Doris specifically not to take the baby to the airport. Kami was there to pick us up, so why wouldn't the cars be here?"

"Maybe they had to go to the store… emergency diaper run," Steve knew it was a flimsy excuse the second it left his lips, and truth be told, he was more than a little worried by the rather quiet looking house.

"They knew exactly when we were due to arrive, they'd have diapers ready," Catherine rushed toward the house and nearly allowed her pack to fall off her shoulder when she realized the door was unlocked. Her heart thumped loudly, reverbing through her skull. The blow she'd taken there the other day hadn't really hurt the last twelve or so hours, but now it was noticeably pounding.

"Hello? Mary?" Steve called out as he followed Catherine inside, their bags swiftly discarded by the door. In years past it wouldn't have been such a big deal to find the house unlocked. If he knew someone was at home they'd often left the doors unlocked since they were usually coming and going from the front yard to the back. But they hadn't been so lax in security since before Catherine had been abducted by Lawson. "Is anyone here?" he tried to keep his panic level low, not wanting to upset his wife any more than she already was.

Catherine stood just inside the door pretty much frozen, her feet afraid to move. "What if…"

He spun around and held her shoulders in both his hands, "No, Cath, they're fine. They just went out to the store, maybe… or… they could be in the back yard. Why don't you come with me and we'll check out there. I'm sure they…"

A soft jingle interrupted his thoughts. The tinkling sound continued, punctuated by the heavy clacking of paws against the hardwood stairs.

Trooper came bounding down the steps and nearly bowled both humans over in her obvious excitement to see them. The yellow lab barked once, twice, before rearing up and landing her big paws against Catherine's waist, licking her owner's hands, "Hey, girl," Catherine couldn't help speak kindly to her loyal canine friend, even though she was still fearful of her son's whereabouts. "Trooper, I'm glad to see you, too, but… down," she gently ordered and pointed to the floor. Catherine managed a small smile when the dog immediately obeyed.

The big, loveable animal trotted a few steps away and snatched up Steve's flip-flops that had been left by the door. She brought them over and laid them at his feet then looked up at him with a hopeful glance, all the while her tail flip-flapped rapidly from the excitement of seeing them again.

"She seems too happy for anything to be amiss," Steve noted, reaching out to pat the dog affectionately. A moment later he found himself bending at the waist to look the animal in the eye, "Hey, Troop, you seen Mary and Evan around here?"

Catherine actually laughed a little, "Steve, she's not Lassie. I doubt…" she was interrupted by another bark from the canine as Trooper took off.

They watched the animal gallop back up the stairs and were too curious not to follow her.

Steve had to hustle to keep up with his wife as they shot up the stairs.

Trooper had stopped outside the upstairs bedroom down the hall from theirs; Steve's childhood bedroom. The enthusiastic dog barked again and lowered her head a little. She pushed the partially opened door open a little wider with her snout and disappeared inside. It took them an extra half a second to follow the dog and another half second for them to realize the room had been completely transformed.

It was a full-fledged nursery.

Waist-high wooden wainscot had been given a fresh coat of crisp white paint. The walls above the wainscot had been painted a soft aqua; beach ball blue, to be exact. It was the color they'd picked out together for their son's room. Navy blue curtains covered the large window that faced north as well as the smaller window along the west wall. Both sets of curtains hung open just enough to allow a slice of sunshine to cast light across the hardwood floor. The hardwood was partially covered by a new 7x9 blue and white striped area rug.

The changing table they'd chosen from a catalog had been assembled and situated on the north wall beneath the bigger window.

Evan's portable crib had been set up along the south wall in a much darker corner of the room.

There was a yellow paper banner attached to the crib that read: Welcome Home Mommy and Daddy.

Catherine felt her heartrate kick up again as she moved toward the small crib.

She could see something pale green inside, which appeared to be wiggling. A peak of soft brown baby hair came into her sightline, causing her stomach to jump into her throat. Tears sprang to her eyes as she surged forward to take him in completely; his sweet rosy-cheeked face, and his pudgy little arms extended over his head as he lay on his back. Evan shifted a little, turning his head at the sound of her approach.

His dark brown eyes connected with hers in an instant.

The baby cooed contentedly as his little legs twisted and wiggled, his bare feet kicking softly against the crib.

All the while his steady-eyed gaze remained focused on her.

"Hi, nugget," she barely managed to get the words out, her voice croaking with relief and joy. "Are you supposed to be going down for a nap, or are you waking up?" Catherine asked as she reached in and plucked him from the bed, not really caring if she was interrupting a nap. She pressed his belly against her chest and he happily settled his cheek atop her shoulder.

The baby had his head turned to face Catherine, starring affectionately at her.

But when Steve pressed his strong hand against the boy's back, Evan turned to look up at his daddy.

"Waking up," Mary said softly from the doorway, "Perfect timing."

The family of three turned to spot Mary and Doris hovering at the door. Behind them they could see other faces clamoring for a chance to get into the room. Soon enough half a dozen people entered the newly decorated nursery. Trailing behind Doris and Mary were Danny, Grace, Kono and Chin. "I am so sorry," Mary spoke again as she approached them and was wrapped into a huge hug by her big brother. Her eyes stayed focused on Catherine, though, "I told them this being a surprise would probably upset you. Making you think no one was home after everything…"

"No," Danny gently interrupted, "This one's on me," he let them know, taking the blame, "I got Kamekona to tell you we were on a case and I made everyone park down the block. I should've known not to…"

"It's okay," Steve assured his sister, rubbing her back. His eyes went to Danny, "Really," he nodded.

Mary's gaze remained glued to Catherine, "I'm sorry," she repeated, able to tell her sister-in-law was not as easily put at ease.

Catherine swiped away tears with her free hand; her right hand firmly keeping Evan stuck to her. "I, uh…" she tried to find words for Mary but instead sniffed and snuggled Evan even tighter, closing her eyes as she pressed a tender kiss against the baby's soft forehead. Her hand tenderly rubbed up and down his back, "I missed you so much, nugget," she whispered to her boy, forgetting for a moment that anyone else was there. She delighted in his powdery smell and the soft, content, dove-like coos that he emitted.

Her little boy's presence helped erase most of the last week.

Chin cleared his throat, "Maybe we should all give them some time to…"

"No," Catherine interrupted, knowing what he about to say, "I'm sorry," her eyes reopened and she acknowledged that there were people in the room other than herself and her son. "Don't go, please… not just yet." Her gaze caught Chin's and he nodded happily. She focused in on Mary and stepped away from Steve to embrace the woman she felt had become a real sister to her, "Don't be sorry," she let the woman know, "This is…"

They pulled out of the hug and Catherine glanced around again.

"This is wonderful," she finally uttered, still taking it all in.

There were wooden shelves hung above Steve's old dresser, a dresser which had been repainted to a shiny white finish with new silver hardware. Upon the shelves rested several blue and white polka dot fabric baskets. Each basket was filled with ointments, extra wipes, and everything else one could possibly need for proper baby care. Atop the dresser was a mound of stuffed animals, and inside the open closet some of Evan's tiny clothes had been hung up. To the far left of the smaller window on the west wall was a cushy loveseat and a low table with a lamp.

Hung above the loveseat was a panoramic photo of Waimanalo beach.

To the left of the changing table someone had hung one of Catherine's better attempts at painting Bellows beach.

And high above the portable crib were four painted wooden letters hung in a straight line.

Grace stepped forward, noticing that Catherine was eyeing the letters.

"I made those," the girl beamed with accomplishment. "Well, I painted them. I've seen it done in magazines. I used the same white paint Danno used on the dresser and then dark blue for the polka dots to match the fabric bins Kono found for the shelves. Uncle Chin hung them high enough so that when the real crib is there Evan can't reach them. The letters spell out Evan's name," she finally declared.

"I see that," Catherine wrapped one arm around the girl and kissed her cheek, "Thank you, kiddo, they're great."

"Thanks, Gracie. Those letters are actually gonna be really helpful," Steve jumped in, reaching out to capture Grace around the waist, tickling her softly before pulling her into a warm hug. He kissed the top of her head, "Evan will be able to learn his name that way since someone… his mommy," Steve eyed Catherine, "Doesn't ever seem to call him by it."

The girl giggled, "Maybe I should've put the name Nugget up there instead," she joked.

That got everyone in the room to laugh for a moment. It was a welcome sound.

Danny clapped a friendly hand against Steve's shoulder. "We did all this since we figured you'd be worn out from the trip."

"And because I kept complaining about the lack of having a changing table," Mary put in.

"But we left the crib for you to put together, boss," Kono spoke up, "We didn't want to step on all your manly pride toes," she grinned.

Steve's head shook, "To be honest, you could've done the crib as well. I mean it, all of you, this is a fantastic gift," he addressed his closest family and friends. "And it will give Catherine and me a chance to do what we've been planning to do as soon as we got home… to go straight to bed."

"Hey now, there are children present," Danny responded, playfully covering Grace's ears, "And we really don't need details."

"To sleep," Steve immediately put in, "Just… sleep."

"Absolutely," Catherine echoed his sentiment while covering her mouth as a yawn escaped.

"Well, when you do go to sleep," Chin grabbed something off the changing table, "Here," he handed a seven-inch flat screen monitor to Catherine. "There's a state-of-the-art surveillance camera mounted there," Chin pointed to the area in the upper corner of the room opposite from where the crib was. "You can monitor Evan from anywhere in the house with the wireless handheld units. This one is for upstairs," he lightly taped the one in her hand, "There's another one downstairs that has full range even outside, toward the water or the road."

Catherine smiled while trying to stifle another yawn, but with Evan in her arms and the monitor in one hand she had no way to cover her mouth.

"I think that's our cue to get going," Chin said as he wrapped his arms around Catherine, careful of the baby. "It's good to have you home, sister," he let her know, reaching out to smooth away another tear that had escaped her eyes upon hearing his brotherly words.

She sniffed back tears while resettling the surveillance monitor on the changing table. Catherine watched Chin duck out of the room along with Kono, Danny and Grace, each of them saying good-bye. "Uh… brunch," she finally called after them, slightly incoherent after her ordeal in Brazil, travels, and the overwhelming relief of finding her son safe at home, "Here. Next Sunday?"

All heads gave a nod. A simple 'you got it' was given from Chin. A 'let me know what to bring' from Kono. And a 'we'll be here' from Danny and Grace.

Doris and Mary remained in the nursery as Steve walked with Danny out into the hall to have a quick chat. They waited a beat until Chin, Kono and Grace were downstairs. "What's the deal with Lawson?" Steve inquired.

"Still behind bars," Danny assured his friend that nothing had changed since they'd last spoken.

"What about bail?" Steve wondered, "The guy's a billionaire. You should've seen that complex he had built in Brazil."

"Judge wouldn't set bail," the detective revealed.

That surprised Steve, "Huh," he pondered that news for a moment, "What's in those files An left us?"

"What little I've seen so far," Danny sucked in a breath, "Not enough to convict. Lawson's not in any of what we've seen. Mainly it's that Vichy idiot. But the Governor and State's attorney felt there was enough to hold Lawson. They didn't set bail since he's a flight risk. I'm pretty confident he'll go to trail, but I… I don't know. The guy has snuck around us before."

Those words were not the comfort Steve had been hoping for, but his real worries resided elsewhere at the moment. "Do you think there's any chance we can keep those files out of Catherine's hands for a while?"

Danny grinned, "We can always try. But you married the woman, you'd know better than anyone that if she wants to see them…"

"She'll see them," Steve agreed.

"I'll do my best," Danny clapped his friend on the shoulder, "We haven't even gone through a fraction of them yet." The detective eyed his friend, who was keeping a close watch on the new nursery. Danny could tell Steve hoped Lawson would stay behind bars and never have an opportunity to harm his family again. "It's nothing you need to think about today. Be with your family."

Steve cracked a small smile, "Thanks, Danny… for everything you guys have done."

"No need to thank me," Danny grinned, edging toward the stairs, "If I've learned one thing living on this island, it's that you do anything for 'ohana."

Those words touched Steve more deeply than they ever had before, realizing how very true the statement was.

There'd been a time not so long ago that he'd lost his father, his mother had been presumed dead for years, and his little sister had been at a distance from him in more ways than just geography. Now he was blessed with a huge family, both blood and friend related. "But you can still thank family," Steve said, recalling someone who'd said the very same thing to him once.

The detective nodded and took his leave.

Steve promptly made his way back into the nursery. He caught Doris' eye right away. She took a cautious step toward him, seeming unsure about where the two of them stood with one another. She was clearly allowing him to take the lead. Steve didn't even hesitate as he enveloped his mother in a hug, happy to do so without everyone else around. "Thank you for keeping them safe," he whispered for her ears only, "For keeping your word."

Doris gave a silent nod and released a relieved sigh. She stepped back and kept ahold of one of his hands. She grasped Catherine's free hand for a moment as well, squeezing them each gently. "I'm glad you're both home, and safe."

"I thought you said you were done with the CIA, mom?" Steve questioned, "Agent Donnelley certainly seemed to be taking some direction from you."

Her eyes widened, realizing she should've known the hug and his thanks had been too easy. "At your request, I believe?" Doris shot back incredulously, unable to not defend herself. "I am done with the CIA, except when my contacts have the means to bring my son and daughter safely home to their baby boy; my grandson. In that case, I'll use them in any way I see fit and I won't apologize for it either," she concluded.

Steve recalled what he'd said to Catherine, somewhat jokingly, about how he wished she'd just say thank you the next time he saved her life. And she had. He recognized that now was the same sort of situation. Although he still felt reluctant to completely let his mother back into his life, she'd gotten a lot right lately. And he could only think to say one thing at the moment, "Thank you for helping us get home, mom."

"I made you a promise," Doris shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal of it. She knew she still had plenty to make up for, but hearing her son thank her gave her hope. "Now I promise to leave so you can have some time to relax."

Mary turned to her mother and smiled, glad to have her whole family back together and acting civil toward one another, "I'll ride home with you, mom. Just give me an extra few minutes to gather my stuff?"

With a quick nod, Doris kissed the top of Evan's head, gave Catherine's hand a final squeeze and left the nursery.

"He's gotten bigger," Catherine remarked as she held Evan out at arm's length for a moment, marveling at how calm he was. Normally he'd be hungry after a nap. Now he seemed content just to be with them again as he kept making genuine eye contact with her. He reached for her face and hair with his chubby, grabby hands, which were not completely coordinated yet. "He's grown so much since I left him."

"We left him," Steve remarked, taking on some of that blame, but more so trying to calm her nerves, "And I don't think he's grown."

"Yes, he has. He's definitely bigger," she insisted, glancing over at Steve as her mouth hung open with realization, "Oh, crap… I am so sorry," Catherine handed Evan over to his father with the sudden realization that she'd completely monopolized the baby. She stood back as Steve took hold of the boy, new tears springing to life and rolling down her cheeks as she watched father and son reunite. "I'm a complete mess," she swiped at her tears, "You're right, he probably hasn't grown, and I'm… I need some rest."

Steve only had eyes for his little boy at the moment, kissing his chubby cheeks and making silly faces at him.

"Best of luck with getting any rest," Mary said good-naturedly as she took Catherine's hand and pressed something into it. "Evan hasn't been sleeping too well, but maybe that's just because you've been gone. He has been eating a lot, though, like all the time," she remarked, "His diaper rash is completely gone at the moment, and Trooper has been watching him like a hawk. Seriously, she's a nanny dog," Mary chuckled, running a hand along the back of Trooper's head as the dog stood beside her. "That…" she pointed to the item in Catherine's hand, "Should help ease your mind a little. I hope."

Catherine noticed it was a microSD card. "What is it for?"

"I took at least a hundred pictures of him while you were gone," Mary grinned, "And by that, I mean a hundred every day." She gave Catherine another brief hug, "Now I am going to get some rest," she leaned in to kiss the back of Evan's head, "I love you little guy, but you are a handful and a half," Mary concluded while moving toward the door.

"Thank you, Mary," Steve stopped her in the doorway, eyeing her with genuine gratitude.

"We'll never be able to thank you enough," Catherine added.

"No need," Mary gave a small wave as she slipped out the door, "I love you guys… see you later," her voice carried down the hall.

Steve pressed a kiss against the baby's cheek even as the little guy was clearly reaching out to Catherine and whining a little. "Hard to believe that's my baby sister, the same one who's managed to shirk responsibility for most of her life." He gave Evan another kiss, gentle bouncing the boy, "But she seems to have done a good job with you, hmm? You look happy... mostly happy."

"She's grown up a lot," Catherine pointed out as she held Evan's little left hand.

"Yeah, she certainly has," Steve agreed, watching as Catherine kissed the baby's tiny fingers one at a time. It warmed his heart to see Evan smile as she did so. He handed the boy back to her, not jealous at all, just glad their son loved her so much. The feeling was mutual.

Catherine snuggled Evan into the crook of her left arm as he reached for the hair that had fallen over her shoulder.

The room and the house seemed infinitely quieter as soon as they heard the front door close, Doris and Mary now gone along with the others. Only the distant sound of ocean waves gently crashing on shore out back greeted their ears, causing them both to turn to one another. Catherine smiled, leaning most of her weight against Steve even though he was barely standing up as it was; injured backside and weary from travel.

"Take me to bed?" she whispered, not seductively in the least.

His free arm snaked across her shoulders, "You got it," he agreed, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

They moved down the hall a short distance to their bedroom.

"So…" Catherine sighed as they stood in the doorway.

"So…" Steve echoed her sentiment, one hand pressed against the small of his wife's back. "What do you want to do first?" he asked, "I know you said bed, but I was thinking maybe a shower and a change of clothes would be good before crawling into that bed. After a nap we could lounge the rest of the day with the little guy and Trooper… maybe have dinner on the back patio?"

"That all sounds nice, but I…" Catherine gnawed her bottom lip, "I feel like if I leave this room, if I take even the smallest step away from here, I'll…" she had difficulty putting her thoughts into words, her feelings scattered in several different directions at the moment. "I feel like all this might fall apart again," Catherine finally voiced, a whisper that she was hesitant to put in the universe for fear she'd jinx everything.

He felt much the same.

Steve gave her a smile, though. He wanted to be strong for her and their son, the way he hadn't been able to be there for them for so many months when they'd been on that ship. "Something will come up sooner or later," he tried to be the voice of reason, "I'll have to go back to work eventually and you'll have to figure out what you want to do next, work or not work for a while. But nothing major is going to disrupt us, nothing like what we've been through this past year," Steve did his best to sound reassuring. "So… let's just try to relax for a while."

"Okay," Catherine finally nodded, wanting nothing more than for life to go back to normal. It was just going to take a while for things to go back to anything resembling normal, mainly because she was at a loss for what normal even meant these days. "I don't want to shower, though, not yet," she let him know, "I don't want Evan to be out of my sight."

"I'll be right here with him, he'll be perfectly safe with me," Steve reminded her, feeling a little bit like history was repeating itself. "I bet you'll feel better after a shower at home, and a chance to wear your own clothes."

"I know, but… just not yet," she maintained. "I want to hold him for a little longer."

Steve flashed a reassuring smile. He nodded and kissed her again. He wouldn't push her any further at the moment. "All right, then how about I shower while you snuggle. After that maybe you'll be ready?"

"Maybe," Catherine remained hesitant as they fully entered their bedroom. The room was pretty much as they'd left it, bed made up and everything tidy. Both of them having military backgrounds meant they kept a mostly organized home, and Mary had clearly stayed in her old room downstairs. "Why did Mary get the downstairs room when you were the oldest?" Catherine wondered, having never given it much thought before.

"I may have been a little difficult during my teen years," he confessed, though she already knew about most of that, "Dad was worried it would be easier for me to sneak out of the house at night if I had a second floor room."

She eyed him a moment, noticing the shifty grin he was trying to hide. "I'm guessing that didn't stop you."

He shook his head, "Nope. I found a way. The roof outside my window wasn't too high to jump."

"Remind me to nail Evan's windows shut when he gets to be a teenager," Catherine groaned. "Or… hopefully he'll take after me."

"Yeah, because you were a perfect angel," Steve scoffed.

Catherine rolled her eyes at him, grateful for the moment of lightheartedness before she focused on their bed again. It looked particularly inviting, which sparked a happy memory for her of the day they'd picked it out. She sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled at Evan who remained curled up between her arm and chest. Something resting atop her nightstand caught her eye. "A cell phone?" Catherine picked it up, turning to her husband. "Did you…"

Steve shrugged, "Not me. I'm still using this crap phone," he pulled the disposable cell from his back pocket and waved it at her.

He tossed the phone onto his nightstand while kicking off his shoes. Trooper came over to him, brushing up against his legs, clearly looking for some attention and love. He gave the dog a good long scratch behind both ears since Catherine was devoting most of her time to the baby. Trooper was likely hoping for some roughhousing more than anything, but he knew they were all too tired for that. "A little later, girl," he whispered to the dog.

Catherine noticed there was something else on her nightstand where the phone had been.

She set the phone down and grabbed the piece of paper, realizing it was a print out of an email message. Catherine began to read it aloud, "I heard you damaged another cell phone so I asked Doris to pick this new one up for you. It's a gift from me, though, which seems to be a new tradition. I'm glad you're home safe, again. Let's see if we can keep it that way this time. Keep in touch, princess. Love, from your dad."

"That was nice of him," Steve grinned, knowing how much the Rear Admiral loved his daughter.

She gave a small, tired, nod. "Remind me to call him later."

Catherine placed her dad's note back on the nightstand, slipped off her shoes and quickly settled down on the bed. Steve helped prop her back with a few cushy pillows as she stretched her legs out. One arm remained holding onto Evan while her free hand smoothed along her dress so it didn't ride up as she repositioned herself and the baby. Evan snuggled his belly up against her again, alert and happily smiling at her as she crossed her legs at the ankles.

Steve watched them a moment, mesmerized by the intense love radiating between mother and son.

He grabbed a soft cotton throw that was draped over a chair in the corner of their room near Catherine's record player. Steve placed the throw on the bed beside her. "In case you get chilled," he offered, "Or I can adjust the air-conditioning for you?" he glanced up, noticing the ceiling fan was running.

"I'm fine," she held a hand out to him. "I'm enjoying the slightly cooler weather after our adventures in the sweltering rainforest." Catherine smiled as he took her hand and gently kissed its palm. She pulled his hand to her lips and kissed it in return, "Go, take your shower," she insisted, "I'll help put a clean bandage on your tushy when you get out," she winked while letting go of his hand and playfully pushing against his chest.

He chuckled softly, "You are such a tease," Steve replied, leaning in again to give the top of Evan's head a quick kiss before he moved toward the bathroom. He stood in the doorway, eying her with a grin, "I'll take you up on that bandaging offer and… maybe a little something more?"

She gave a playful shrug, "Yeah, maybe," was her nonchalant response.

Catherine noticed the happy look he sported and the slight shake of his head, clearly more amused with her response than annoyed. She watched him disappear inside the bathroom. Catherine knew that Steve was just as tired and mentally worn out as she was after their time in South America; far too tired to do little more than clean up, maybe have a meal together and then sleep. Of course their desire was there - it was always there - but neither of them possessed enough physical energy to enjoy themselves at the moment.

"Your daddy is a relentless flirt, nugget," she spoke to the baby in her arms, running a finger along his chin. "I hope he always will be."

"I heard that!" Steve called out over the sound of the running shower.

"Good!" she responded, noticing the baby was still starring up at her intently. "I'm really sorry we were gone so long, nugget. I won't ever leave you alone again," Catherine promised, "That might become an issue for you when you start school," she joked.

Steve stood at the bathroom door again, listening a moment longer and smiling before he stripped down and got in the shower.

The hot water soothed some of his aches, but it stung a little where the stitches remained at the junction of his thigh and butt cheek where he'd been shot. An area that probably should not have gotten wet, but he was too tired to care at the moment. He showered rather quickly, realizing he really didn't want Evan out of his sight for very long either, or Catherine for that matter.

"I'm just as crazy overprotective as my wife," Steve mumbled to himself, realizing once again just how alike they were.

He dried off a little, left his hair damp and wrapped the white towel around his waist, tucking it over on one side to secure it. Steve glanced in the mirror and saw a weary man looking back at him. Their trip to Brazil had taken a lot out of him physically. Fingertips brushed through his hair for a moment before he gave a shrug, not caring much about his appearance.

There was no sound coming from the bedroom as he approached, causing Steve to wonder if they'd both fallen asleep.

What he discovered was definitely not a sleeping baby or wife.

"Cath?" He rushed across the room and crouched beside her.

Steve noticed she'd at least changed into one of his casual button-up shirts, which was unbuttoned several inches to allow Evan to nurse. The little boy had his left hand pressed against her chest as he nursed, looking completely comfortable. It was Catherine that looked anything but content as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. Steve knew they were not the happy tears of relief she'd cried earlier in Evan's new nursery.

Her dark eyes turned to him, which only served to break his heart.

"Hey, what… Cath, what's wrong? What happened?" Steve rubbed one hand against her arm, the other squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. He tried to get a response out of her, but she looked down. That's when he noticed her new cell phone resting on the bed. Steve stood, walked around the bed, and settled down beside her. Catherine leaned against him immediately as he reached for her phone.

She didn't protest as he woke her phone.

He read the text message that she hadn't closed.

Steve could tell right away it was a forwarded message from Kono that had originated with their CIA contact in Brazil. "These are the boys Donnelley mentioned disappearing in Brazil while in transit," he skimmed the message at first before he focused fully on all the names of the missing. He almost wished it had taken the CIA agent longer to identify them. "Edgar," Steve recalled hearing that name briefly, but there was one in particular that caught his attention, "Emerson," he read the name that he figured had set his wife off.

Catherine turned to face him, "I don't even know why I'm crying. I barely know them," she sniffed, brushing away her tears, "It's not like it was Henry or Khalil. Emerson was just some kid who hit me over the head… and… I shouldn't be so…"

"Emerson was more than that," Steve replied, knowing she'd taken time to speak to the boy about his future. "He was headed off to join the Army, his choice," Steve recalled, "He seemed fine the last we saw him, aside from recovering from the leg wound."

"Obviously he wasn't fine," she lamented.

"Hey, I know you feel responsible for all of those boys," Steve acknowledged with a regretful sigh. He wished Kono had waited to send that message, but he reasoned she might not have known about Catherine's new cell phone. Steve powered off the phone and put it on the nightstand next to his crappy phone. "Why don't we just stay away from phones for a while," he suggested.

"Please don't tell me not to feel responsible," Catherine requested, her thoughts still focused on the boys she'd spent a brief amount of time with at Lawson's complex, "Because I…" she faltered and let herself succumb to tears again.

Steve held her as she cried. "You can feel any way you want, Catherine," he assured.

His comforting presence and words caused her to stop crying after a few more minutes had passed.

The tears slowly dried into crusty flakes in the corners of both eyes that she didn't bother dealing with. She swiped snot from her nose and chuckled softly, feeling overwhelmed by the last year of her life, "I must look horrible," Catherine realized, glancing down at her baby boy. Her eyes met with Steve's gaze again as she smiled, "Evan doesn't seem to care how I look. He always let me cry on the ship. He'd just keep on nursing and let me cry," she recalled. "You two are so much alike. You both give me strength."

Her words nearly brought him to tears. "No, Cath…" Steve smiled, "I think you got that wrong. You give us strength."

000

The graveside ceremony had ended over an hour ago.

Almost everyone had made their way to Freddie's parents where a reception had been set up in their backyard.

She sat on a black metal folding chair beside a square card table. The table was draped with a simple white cloth. A large arrangement of lilies and ferns rested atop it. All the tables were set in similar fashion with various flower arrangements, extra napkins and bowls of nuts. The sun was out, birds were chirping merrily in the oak and maple tree branches overhead. It was a lovely setting befitting of the man they were honoring.

Catherine was by herself at the moment as Steve chatted with the 5-0 gang, thanking them again for being there.

She'd already spoken to them and as many other people as she could muster before finally nursing her sore ribs and taking a much needed seat. She watched as Steve moved through the crowd and was stopped by a few men in uniform, all of them roughly his age. Catherine recognized most of them as members of his old SEAL team simply by the descriptions Steve had given her in stories he'd told more than once.

Her attention turned to Kelly. The woman looked tired, but remained smiling, radiating strength in an admirable manner.

A tiny voice startled Catherine out of her thoughts and caused her to glance left.

"Hi," the voice said sweetly.

Catherine smiled immediately upon seeing the little girl that had approached.

Emma stood right in front of Catherine and stared at her for all of thirty seconds before she invited herself onto the woman's lap.

Not at all surprised by how sociable the child was, Catherine happily situated the three-year-old so she was seated crosswise on her lap. Emma turned her head to Catherine and smiled a beaming-eyed, tiny-toothed grin. She had her mother's nose, her daddy's eyes, and both of their friendly personalities rolled into one. "Did you know my daddy?" the little girl looked Catherine in the eye as she spoke.

"I did know him," Catherine responded, watching as the girl fiddled with the aluminum tags still hanging around her neck, Freddie's ID tags that had been given to her by Steve. They jingled softly, the chain resting against her delicate young neck. "I wish I'd gotten to know him better, but Emma, your daddy was a very kind man… and so funny. We went fishing together once in Florida."

"Mommy lived in Florida when she was a little girl like me," Emma said with a big Freddie grin.

"That's right," Catherine nodded. She knew some of the history, how Kelly's parents had died shortly after she'd finished college. How the woman had migrated to the west coast after that to find work as a teacher and to be closer to Freddie. She also knew one of Kelly's brothers and Freddie's parents had all made the move to San Diego shortly after Freddie's death in order to be closer to Kelly during her pregnancy.

"Me want to see Florida someday," Emma announced, "But mommy says it's a lot like here," the girl shrugged.

Catherine smiled, nodding along as she let the girl ramble about beaches and palm trees and Disney attractions. Emma seemed to have a fantastic vocabulary for someone as young as she was, although Catherine had to admit she wasn't sure how chatty three year olds usually were. She certainly couldn't remember being that age, and she didn't spend much time around small children.

"I like fish," Emma innocently pressed her head against Catherine's shoulder, seeming to need comfort as her mother dutifully made sure to talk to everyone in attendance, "Me and mommy go fishing at a lake where Unca Tommy has a boat."

"Yeah? That sounds like a very nice uncle you have, letting you use his boat. Do you catch lots of fish when you go there?" Catherine wondered, wincing a little as the girl rested more heavily against her chest. Her cracked ribs were wrapped tightly, but still hurt like crazy. She wouldn't dare say anything, though, not wanting her time with the child to end just yet.

Emma's head shook, "No, me not catch much. Mommy says it's okay 'cause it's just fun to fish."

Steve pulled up a chair and sat down next to them, a hand going to the little girl's head. "Your mom is very smart. It is just fun to fish," he agreed, having overheard that much. He mussed the girl's hair a little, "I used to go fishing with your daddy. Catherine and I went with him and your mommy once," he repeated what Catherine had already told the girl, but Emma seemed rapt no matter, "I remember that Catherine caught a huge fish and your daddy cleaned it for her. We all ate a feast that night," he recalled with a happy smile and tone.

Catherine grinned, liking the way he finally admitted to her being the one to catch that fish when years ago he'd done his level best to take credit, at least for starting the process. Mostly she enjoyed the way he interacted with Emma. "Maybe we could all go fishing together sometime," Catherine suggested as she caught Steve's eye, "Steve and I, and you and your mommy," she proposed to the girl, "Would that be fun?"

Her head bobbed enthusiastically and Emma sat up straighter, "When we go?" her question was aimed at Steve.

"Anytime you want, sweetheart," Steve replied, plucking the girl off Catherine's lap when he noticed Catherine wincing.

"We go 'morrow?" Emma momentarily wondered if that was too soon. She wiggled out of his grasp and was on her feet again standing in front of Steve, eyeing him with anticipation. She was so eager that she began bouncing on the balls of her feet and tugging at his hands.

He shared a quick glance with Catherine and she smiled encouragingly.

"Yeah, tomorrow sounds like a great day for fishing," Steve answered, "But we'll have to make sure it's okay with your mommy first. Deal?" Steve tried to sound stern about that decision, but he was already pretty much wrapped around the little girl's finger.

Emma threw up her hands in added excitement, "I go ask her now, Unca Steve!"

Her short legs carried her off at a run before either of them could try to stop her.

"Kids are amazingly resilient," Steve remarked wistfully, rejoicing in the proud feeling he got from being called Emma's uncle.

Catherine took his hand in hers. "She never got to know Freddie. Maybe in some way she doesn't miss him as much as you or Kelly."

"I hope not," he whispered.

Her hand squeezed his a little tighter.

"How you holding up?" she wondered, knowing the last several days had been both emotionally and physically draining for them.

Steve turned to look her in the eye, "If you weren't here I'd be a mess," he claimed, "You give me strength, Cath." Steve leaned in to press his lips against hers, a gentle kiss filled with gratitude. "Maybe that sounds sappy," he said, pulling away just a little, "But it's the truth. You do."

It took a great deal of effort to keep her tears at bay as he bestowed that compliment. Steve rarely got emotional, but she knew what he'd been through the last few days, or rather, the last few years. Having a friend like Freddie Hart in his life had changed Steve. Catherine distracted herself from potential breakdown by changing the subject a little, "Am I biased, or does Emma seem very smart for her age? She talks a lot."

He actually chuckled softly at that, "Well, she has a mother who teaches High School English… and Freddie could be a real chatterbox."

She gave a nod, recalling how talkative and open Freddie had been the first time they'd hung out. He'd certainly had no qualms telling her how adamant he was about her and Steve being the right fit for one another. Catherine could tell mentioning Freddie again had gotten Steve caught up in the past. She glanced out across the grassy lawn and watched as Danny, Kono and Chin chatted with one of Kelly's brothers and the man's wife.

"It was really sweet of your team to be here," Catherine remarked.

"Yeah," Steve smiled, "Above and beyond."

"They're your family and they love you," she simply declared.

Emma came rushing back toward where they were seated.

"Mommy's coming!" the girl announced with the kind of exuberance only a child could radiate. She stopped and stood in front of Catherine again. "She wants'a talk to Unca Steve…" Emma extended her hand, "Will you get me punch and a cookie? Please," she batted her long lashes.

Catherine chuckled, "How could I say no to that face?" she asked Steve.

He shrugged, "You can't," Steve replied, standing and giving Catherine a hand up. He also pressed a tender kiss against her cheek.

Kelly approached Steve just as Emma was dragging Catherine off to the refreshments table.

The three-year-old waved exaggeratedly to her mom before returning her full attention to Catherine.

"I think Emma has made a new friend," Kelly grinned, wrapping an arm about Steve's waist. "Do you remember that fishing trip the four of us went on?"

"Emma, Catherine and I have just been talking about that fishing trip," Steve replied with a grin, his thoughts getting lost a little deeper in the memories, "How could anyone forget being on that small boat, stranded out on the ocean with Freddie's snoring?" he shook his head.

Her head gave a corresponding nod, "His snoring was legendary."

"Jeez, you're not kidding," Steve instantly agreed with her comment, "We all had to wear earplugs during BUD/S because of him. Not that any of us got very much sleep during that time," he chuckled fondly as the memories of his best friend flooded to mind without causing too much sorrow. "I don't know how you ever put up with sleeping next to him in the same bed."

"Usually there wasn't a lot of sleeping going on when we were in bed," Kelly replied.

His nose scrunched, "I didn't need to hear that."

Kelly smiled, glad that neither of them was quite as sad as they'd once been while talking about her lost husband. "About that trip," she returned to their fishing adventure in Florida, "I remember Freddie and Catherine becoming fast friends. I also recall Freddie and me taking a walk after that trip, just after we'd dropped you and Catherine off at the airport. Freddie was talking about you, non-stop; all the same old stories about your time in the service together. I remember he often mentioned how detached you were from family, but how you'd found one in the Navy."

Steve nodded slowly, knowing it was true. "I got a brother in Freddie, that's for sure," his voice quavered a little.

"He said something very important to me that day after our fishing trip," Kelly went on, "He said you were noticeably different, that you'd had a change of heart. Freddie said her name was Catherine. He also told me that day that you were going to marry Catherine and have a couple of kids. He truly believed it even though he felt you were still resistant to the idea. He said he just knew it; felt it. He even tried to bet me a steak dinner over it. I didn't take the bet, though. I had a feeling about you two as well."

"That so?" he wondered, catching a glance of Catherine with Emma. The two laughed at something that was said between them and Catherine looked up, caught sight of him and smiled. He watched as her attention quickly returned to the little girl.

"It's hard not to notice it, Steve…" Kelly trailed off, witnessing the same moment between her daughter and Catherine, "The looks you two share. And the fact that you both worked tirelessly to bring Freddie home. If that's not love," her head shook, "I can't imagine two people who trust each other and care about one another more… except maybe for Freddie and me."

He grinned at that comment, "You two fought like crazy, breaking up and getting back together…" Steve remembered all the times his buddy had chewed his ear off about bickering with Kelly. "Each time you broke up he'd swear that was it."

"I know," Kelly smiled, "It was just our way." She took a deep breath, "Steve, I don't know how to ever thank…"

"Don't," his head shook, "Please," he pleaded. Suddenly he could see Freddie as he'd left him that day in North Korea, fighting until the very end; his last breath. "Please don't ever thank me for bringing my brother home," Steve swallowed, trying to keep his tears at bay, "I don't need thanks. What I did, what Catherine and I did to get Freddie home… that's what you do for family."

Kelly leaned in to kiss him upon the cheek, "But you can still thank family. Thank you, Steve."

"The only thanks I want…" Steve cleared his throat, "Would be another fishing trip," he perked up, pushing away the stronger emotions for later, "With you and Emma and Catherine, tomorrow. Why wait?"

"Why wait," Kelly nodded her agreement.

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to do this, to be here with you and Emma," Steve let some of his feelings come to the surface again, "I didn't think I could face you until I'd gotten Freddie home. I realize now that was… silly. We're family, always will be," he noted, "So, no more being strangers, deal?"

She gave another nod, a tear rolling down her cheek, "Okay, and as long as we're making demands… there's one thing I'd like for you to agree to," Kelly allowed her gaze to drift to where Catherine was helping Emma fill her plastic glass with fruit punch. Kelly smiled, turning to eye Steve again, "Catherine is a great woman," she told him, "And not just because she puts up with you," Kelly chuckled a moment, but her voice turned serious again, "Be happy with her. Be happy, period. He'd want you to be happy, Steve."

Steve swallowed the emotional lump that had formed in his throat again. "I'll try."

"No," Kelly's head shook, looking him in the eye, "Don't just try. Do it."

He smiled, realizing how much she sounded like Freddie in that moment. "Okay, Kel…" Steve nodded, "I will."

Catherine and Emma returned a few minutes later.

Emma held two plastic glasses of red punch that she'd insisted on carrying over herself. "This one's for you, mommy," she proudly handed a glass to her mother. There was cookie crumb evidence all over her smiling face and down the front of her pretty dress.

"I hope Catherine didn't let you have too many cookies," Kelly spoke to the little girl, reaching out to swipe a few crumbs from her cheek.

"Aunty Cath just gave me one cookie," Emma said with an exaggerated tone and equally overstated nod.

Steve gazed meaningfully at Catherine as she handed him a bottle of beer, "I'm sure she did," he placed a hand against her hip, low enough to avoid her injuries. "Confession time," he whispered in her ear, "You gave her more than one cookie, didn't you?"

"It's an aunt's job to spoil her niece," Catherine replied, winking at the little girl.

He chuckled, kissing Catherine briefly on the lips. Steve couldn't imagine any other woman standing by his side. His eyes registered the drinks in all their hands and he took a cleansing breath. Steve kept Catherine in his arms and Kelly and Emma close as he cleared his throat and then made his voice known to all the other mourners who had gathered on Freddie's behalf.

"Excuse me," he said a few times, a little louder the second time to reach the people across the lawn.

A hush quickly fell over the yard.

Catherine could sense his hesitance. She gave the hand at her hip a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

With a quick glance to Kelly, Steve held his beer a little higher in the air. "I will never quit," he bit down on the words at first until they rolled more freely off his tongue, "I persevere and thrive on adversity. My nation expects me to be physically harder and mentally stronger than my enemies. If knocked down, I will get back up, every time. I will draw on every remaining ounce of strength to protect my teammates and to accomplish our mission. I am never out of the fight," Steve took a breath, a moment to reflect on those words.

His other SEAL buddies had been mouthing the words along with him.

"Freddie Hart embodied those words better than anyone I have ever known," Steve continued his toast. "I was privileged to have served with him. I was even more honored to have been counted among his friends. He was true to his country, but even more than that…" his eyes went to Kelly again, and down to Emma who held her mother's hand, "Freddie was true to his family, to his friends… to life itself," Steve managed to say all of it with a genuine smile, pride for having known the man, "He was one of a kind and he will be greatly missed, by many."

Catherine leaned against him, lending what strength she could while allowing her tears to fall freely, "To Freddie, a dear friend," she toasted.

Kelly gave them both a grateful, watery smile as she lifted her glass, "To Freddie, loving husband and father."

Freddie's dad managed to croak, "To Freddie, our beloved son," while his wife stood beside him in tears.

"To Freddie, a lost brother," Steve concluded the toast he'd started.

They all took a moment to drink, silent and reverent.

000

Her head dipped forward a little, her eyes slowly but steadily narrowing to slits.

She sat upright a moment later, eyes opening wider as she did her best to stave off sleep for a while longer.

Catherine glanced down at the nursing baby in her arms who appeared to be resolutely undeterred by her shifting body.

Her son seemed to have plans of his own, which did not include falling asleep easily or staying asleep for very long periods of time. Nor did his plans include having both of his parents out of sight at the same time. The little guy had been awake for most of the afternoon and evening since they'd returned home. Evan didn't seem distressed, though, rather he looked to be savoring every adoring embrace from his parents.

Catherine was convinced there was more to it. She was positive her nugget was afraid of them disappearing again.

Steve didn't outwardly seem to share that sentiment. He'd taken the time to shower and gotten her to let go of Evan long enough to help bandage his stitched gunshot wound. Then he'd ordered in a ton of Italian food for them. He'd walked and fed Trooper. He'd even managed to fall asleep shortly after eating dinner. Catherine was envious, wishing she'd been capable of falling asleep, but every time she tried she was woken by a knot of guilt tied up tight and buried deep in her stomach. It just wouldn't leave her alone, neither would the tears.

She found a new trail of them working their way down the smoothness of her cheeks now as she nursed the baby.

Evan had actually fallen asleep after they'd eaten dinner, and she'd agreed with Steve to put the baby down in his new nursery.

Her head had barely hit the pillow when she'd heard Evan's cries over the new monitoring system Chin had set up. Evan had managed to stay asleep a grand total of twenty minutes. Steve had felt her tense from his spot beside her in their bed, had reached for her, pulled her closer to him. "Let him cry for a few minutes, you've done it before," he'd tried to convince her. "He might fall back asleep on his own."

Catherine had tried that plan out for all of sixty seconds.

Then she'd gotten to her feet, crossed the room, and headed down the hall a short distance to the nursery.

She'd lifted Evan out of his port-a-crib without even trying to rub his belly and comfort him back to sleep. Catherine had cradled him and sunk down onto the new loveseat that had been situated near the crib. She'd flicked on the lamp and studied her baby boy's innocent face for minutes. She'd rubbed his hands and his tummy and ran a finger lovingly along his cheek as he calmed, settling into her embrace once again.

After ten minutes he'd looked up at her and immediately rooted around until she'd given in.

That had been twenty minutes ago and the baby was still wide awake as he nursed.

"All this comfort nursing is going to give you a tummy ache," she whispered, not really worried about that happening but needing to babble about something, anything. "Or maybe it's a growth spurt. No one seems to think you've grown, but a mommy knows. I'm going to need to eat non-stop to keep up with production," Catherine gently teased the baby. "And daddy's going to need a second job to pay the food bills."

Their chat ended abruptly when she began to drift off, her eyes closing.

Then she was wide awake the next moment.

That pattern continued for a while.

Steve found her that way, eyes more closed than open.

Trooper was there with them, curled up on the rug right in the center of the nursery, keeping watch with her eyes completely closed.

He crouched in front of his wife and gently shook her shoulder, "Cath, wake up."

She jolted upright again and looked around the dimly lit room, "I'm awake," she protested.

"Sorry," Steve whispered, feeling bad, "I didn't mean to startle you," he watched her a moment longer, the way she'd woken with a death grip on the baby in her arms. She was right about Evan, though; he didn't seem at all disturbed by her fluctuating emotions when it came to nursing. "You're barely hanging on here, Cath, and the little guy is still chugging down." Steve observed that his son seemed genuinely hungry, "I can grab a bottle for him and finish putting him to sleep. You should get some rest," he insisted.

"No, I'm okay," she replied groggily, "Let him finish."

"Catherine, you're exhausted," he protested, actually more worried about her now than he'd been in Brazil.

Steve knew she was going to hit a wall soon and it wouldn't be pretty.

"Welcome to parenthood," she snapped at him, "I've been doing all of this a lot longer than you…" Catherine trailed off, mentally kicking herself for actually saying those words out loud to him. She thought they'd moved past all that. "I'm sorry for," she broke down again. "I… I really am fine, I'm just…" Catherine knew her tears weren't helping her case much, "I'm just happy to be home," she honestly conveyed, "I know I probably look like a mad woman at the moment, but… please, let me stay with him for a little longer."

He sighed, wishing there was more he could do. "Yeah, okay," Steve agreed, sinking down on the loveseat beside her.

"I was just going to tell the nugget a bedtime story about our trip to Brazil," Catherine found a small bit of energy, no doubt from her husband's supportive presence, "All about the things we saw. I remember our first night there, seeing these monkeys in the jungle with glowing eyes. And we spotted the prettiest birds you could ever imagine, so many different colors… bright yellows, blues and white," she recalled. Evan held his hand out to Steve and wrapped his chubby fingers about his daddy's thumb. "The trees were taller than any I'd ever seen before and there was a gigantic waterfall," Catherine described it all in greater detail, "The rainforest was so lush, breathtakingly beautiful."

Steve actually smiled as he listened. "Leave it to you to find good things to tell him about our trip."

"It wasn't all bad," her gaze shifted to Steve as she recalled some of the other good things that had occurred during their trip. "I remember a night of cuddling with you in the back of a fruit truck. Someone was rather frisky despite a wound to his rather sensitive anatomical region," Catherine mentioned with a touch of humor, "There was a lot of good, actually," she insisted, trying hard to focus on those parts, "Paulo's generosity, and the family who gave us a ride to Porto Velho… also, our night of camping in the rainforest."

Those were things Steve couldn't deny had made the trip somewhat bearable, "I do like camping with you."

They sat there for a while longer as Evan nursed. The baby slowly closed his eyes, still opening them every now and again to check on his parents, to make sure they were still there with him. He finally succumbed to sleep, his mouth going slack against Catherine's breast and his little fingers loosening their mighty grip on Steve's thumb. Evan's body relaxed as he slipped into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Catherine looked to Steve and gave him a small nod.

He maneuvered Evan out of her arms and walked the baby over to his little port-a-crib. "I promise I'll get your real crib set up before you graduate to a big boy bed," Steve whispered, brushing his lips lightly against the baby's forehead before he nestled him into the crib.

She didn't move from her spot, except to shift a little and button her shirt. Steve rejoined her, not sure if she was planning to go back to their bedroom or spend the night on the loveseat in Evan's room. He didn't push her one way or the other, just sat back down beside her, one hand against the back of her neck and the other resting atop her thigh. His forehead pressed against the side of her head.

His warm breath against her cheek caused Catherine to cry again.

"I'm scared," she whispered to him.

Her words were like a knife to his heart, "About what?" Steve tried not to worry, which was like trying not to breathe.

"About…" Catherine took a shaky breath, "Everything… leaving this room, leaving Evan alone even to go back to our bed. I'm afraid to walk out our front door, and I'm… I don't want to close my eyes because I know I'll have that same dream again, the one that switches between you and Evan falling off that rickety bridge in Brazil," she confessed with a tense sigh.

There was no denying it, Steve was concerned. Her fears were much worse than what she'd been projecting the last few days.

"You… you're…" he tried to tread lightly, but he also wanted to be as honest as possible with her, "What you've been through would make anyone scared, Catherine, but admitting it is huge. And you know you're not alone. Don't you? I'm here for you," Steve vowed, "You can lean on me as much as you need to. You should know that by now. I hope you do," he pressed a kiss against her temple.

"I do, but… I just don't want to put everything on you. I can take care of myself. I don't want to be a burden," she expressed.

He sat up a little straighter, cupping her chin and turning her head so he could look her in the eye, "Let's just scratch that word from our entire vocabulary right now, because you could never be a burden to me, Catherine. You have been my shoulder to lean on more times than I can count. Now it's my turn to be there for you. I was in Brazil, and I will be here at home."

She sniffed. Her tears were not overwhelming ones, but a gentle release of some tension. Catherine shifted to fully face him, "I want to talk to someone about it," she said, seeing the slight confusion behind his eyes. "I want to talk to a counselor about this, about my fears and…"

He heard some reluctance in her tone, "I think that's a good idea. I've told you that before, about talking to me or someone, anyone," Steve was supportive. "You don't have to ask my permission," he looked her in the eye, wondering if that was what she was trying to say.

Catherine hesitated for half a second before revealing, "I wanted to ask if you'd go with me, talk to someone together… as a couple."

"You think we need couple's therapy?" he asked. That idea made him a little uneasy.

"No," her head shook, "That's not… I didn't mean…" she regrouped, "We're good, Steve. I just," Catherine sighed, "I hate that I keep laying all of this on you. I know you say I can, and I love how supportive you've been, but I feel guilty putting it on you. I think maybe if we talk to someone together then we can figure out a better way to get through all this, so neither of us is carrying so much of the weight."

His eyes moistened, tears threatening as he listened to the love and fierce protectiveness in her voice. She was trying to look out for both of them.

"Of course I'll go with you," Steve agreed.

"Really?" she was a little surprised, "You'll talk to a counselor? You hate talking about your feelings."

"I don't really like talking about my feelings, no," he didn't bother trying to deny that fact. "In fact it's probably one of my least favorite things to do, because I'm a stubborn guy. I also happen to know you don't like talking about your feelings very much either. Sometimes I look at you and I have no idea what's going on in your head. I just want you to know you can always talk to me. I love you, Catherine. I love you more than I hate talking about feelings." Steve held her close, "I love you more than anything."

She was bleary eyed again as she let her head fall against his shoulder, "I love you."

They sat there a while, listening to the welcome silence of a sleeping baby. Steve massaged the back of her neck a little, thinking about the meaning of the blue star tattoo that resided there, "Do you remember when we broke up and you and Harrington were together for a while?"

It seemed odd timing for such a question, but she nodded.

He took a deep breath, "I was scared back then, Catherine."

Trooper got up and yawned while stretching her back, resting more heavily on her front paws for a moment. She walked over and settled herself in front of them, resting her chin against Catherine's knee. Catherine reached out to give the animal an affectionate pat. Her hand stayed there, resting on the dog as she faced Steve again, "I remember… you were scared to fall in love."

"No," Steve's head shook, "I was never afraid of falling in love with you, Cath. I was always afraid of losing you."

"Steve," she gulped, "I…"

He continued to gently rub her neck, "I'm telling you this because I did lose you, and that's the most scared I've ever been," Steve revealed, "I was lost without you, but I... I got through it and you came back." His fingers brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

"So… what you're saying is this feeling will pass?" Catherine guessed.

Steve sighed, "My dad once told me that there were three typical outcomes for war veterans. One is that they drink. Second is that they never stop trying to be the hero. And the third is that they learn to move on with their lives," he explained, "I think we've both avoided number one, aside from that drunken weekend in Bangkok," he smiled a moment, but turned serious again, "I've been stuck at number two for a while, and I think the same can be said for you. I want us to figure out how to make number three a possibility. I want us to move on, move past... all of it."

"I want that, too," she whispered.

His head gave a gentle nod, "I know that we can get through anything as long as we're together."

"We do make a heck of a team," Catherine found a renewed sense of strength after listening to him.

Steve gently kissed her temple again, his lips lingering there a moment.

"You and Evan mean everything to me. You are my life," he whispered to her. "I will never quit on my family. I persevere and thrive on my wife and son's love. My family expects me to be physically present and mentally strong when it comes to dealing with them. If knocked down, I will get back up for them, every time. I will draw on every remaining ounce of strength to protect my wife and son. I am never out of reach when they need me."

Catherine brushed a tear from her cheek, touched by how he'd changed the SEAL credo for her and their son. "I want to do the same for you."

"I know," he nodded, "You have, you do, and you will continue to," Steve reassured her, "I know you can take care of yourself. I probably know that better than anyone. I admire your strength and your independence. Those are just a couple things that first attracted me to you. But what I'm trying to say is… sometimes you can let others take care of you. You need to rest, and I don't just mean sleep. You need to let me help out more with the baby and you need to relax," he did his best to lay down the law without being too demanding. He knew she hated demands.

"You're right. I feel like Brazil set me back to where I was a few months ago after first leaving that ship," she sighed.

"No. Trust me, you're not there, Cath," he assured her, "You… you fought me back then, physically. You wouldn't talk to me the first time we saw each other again after I got you off the Kappa. We are not there. We'll get through this. You'll bounce back quicker this time. I know you will. You just need some proper sleep. Why don't we stay here with the little guy for a while? Close our eyes. If you fall asleep I'll carry you back to our bed, deal?" Steve knew she wasn't quite ready to leave the baby, so he made the compromise.

She gave a tiny nod, "Deal."

His hand at her neck moved to gently stroke her hair, "You're safe, Catherine. Sleep. I'll be right here with you."

Those simple words were the gentle balm her chaotic thoughts needed to settle.

In his arms, and in their home, she eventually drifted off to sleep.

000

She awoke to the faint kiss of sunlight against her face.

The bed was cozy, a little cocoon oasis. But the best part was she hadn't woken up from a nightmare. Catherine yawned, stretching both arms up over her head and stretching her entire body. Her head ached a little, though at a tolerable level. She didn't remember Steve carrying her to bed after she'd fallen asleep in Evan's nursery, but she did recall waking up another few times in the night. Once from a bad dream. Another time to nurse her infant back to sleep again. But overall it had been the best night of sleep she'd had in ages.

Catherine rolled to her left and found Steve's side of the bed empty.

Fear tangled in her gut until she spotted the note on his pillow.

An elbow propped her up and her fingers grasped the note. Her tired eyes took a moment to focus before she read.

Morning, sexy wife-

Please don't worry. I'm just downstairs in the kitchen.
I have the baby monitor so I'll get Evan if he cries.
You are not to leave that bed for any reason.

Rest. Relax!

See you soon,
Your handsome husband

She cracked up at the note, especially the nickname he'd given her and the way he'd signed off.

It was silly, writing notes on paper in the age of text messaging. She liked the tangible comfort of it, though.

The same way she'd relied on the comfort of her notebook journey while trapped on Lawson's ship.

Clutching the note in her left hand, she flopped onto her back.

Her eyes closed as she thought about how much Steve had changed over the last several years since they'd first met. She felt privileged to have witnessed that process, slow though it may have been. Somewhere along the way they'd fallen in love. Catherine couldn't even say when it had happened for her. It was a combination of things; a journey of years – each new moment together better than the last.

She found her heart beating a little more rapidly thinking about him - her handsome husband, often reckless yet remarkably tender and kind.

Thinking about him wasn't quite good enough.

She was seriously considering disobeying his note when she spotted the monitor on her nightstand.

Catherine was curious since Steve had mentioned having it with him. Then she recalled what Chin had told her about there being one downstairs as well as upstairs. Catherine reached for the device, wondering if she could track him down with it. She grinned upon seeing Steve tending to their son in the nursery. Her fingers immediately sought to find a volume button, hoping there was sound as well as video.

The volume bar appeared on screen a moment later and Steve's voice greeted her ears.

"Hey, buddy, I've got this…" he spoke softly as she watched him place the baby on the changing table, "You know how much I love dirty diaper duty, don't you? Mommy gets the good end and I get the other," Steve joked, "Lucky me, huh?"

Catherine smiled while listening in on their one-sided conversation, although Evan did make his voice known a few times.

"Whoa, there… that is some seriously nasty… I know you have no control over this, but what is your mommy feeding you?" Steve remarked, "I might need a biohazard suite for this… wow, up the back… gonna need a change of clothes, yep," he concluded, "Maybe I can convince your mama to let me use a bottle to feed you and she can take on diaper duty, hmm? How does that sound?"

Evan gurgled a stream of nonsensical gibberish, "Ahh…buuuhh…buh…" and something that sounded like a tongue being clicked.

"Is that right?" Steve pretended to carry on a conversation with the baby. "You know what, buddy, I've been thinking a lot about someone lately. No, I'm not talking about your mama. Of course, she's always on my mind. But actually the person I've been thinking about lately is my good friend, Freddie. You don't know him yet, but you will. Well, you'll know him through me. You see, he died several years ago. He was one of my best friends and he taught me something very important that I'd like to pass along to you. It's about battles."

The baby jabbered again and Catherine swore it sounded like a questioning gurgle, as if the boy was interested in knowing what his father meant.

She was certainly engrossed.

"Battles," Steve repeated, "Are not won with weapons," he declared. "You can have the newest and best weapons and still lose to an inferior enemy. You know why? I'll tell you why. Friends. Buddies. Teammates. Family. Heart. If you don't have something to live or die for, then you've got nothing. I didn't get out of North Korea that first time because Freddie outgunned those men, I got out because he… he cared enough to put his life on the line for me. And the second time in North Korea, your mama and I got out for the same reason; our love for one another, and our desire to protect each other."

Catherine felt a teardrop roll down her check.

"Now, I'll probably be sure to teach you how to shoot a gun properly someday," Steve continued, "And maybe your mommy or grandpa Rollins will teach you to shoot an arrow. But don't ever forget that family and friends are what will help you most in a battle, or in life. They're what you fight for, son. They are what will keep you hanging on when it seems like all hope is lost. I don't know what I'd do without your mommy or you in my life. You make every day better. You make every battle worth fighting."

Her eyes closed a moment as she listened.

"And one other thing Freddie taught me is that there's nothing better than changing dirty diapers," Steve chuckled.

She turned the monitor off, setting it on her nightstand.

A moment later her bedroom door opened a crack.

Trooper poked her head inside the room and promptly invited herself all the way in. The easy going dog jumped up onto the bed and jostled the covers a moment as she circled. Finally she settled down, pressing her fur body against Catherine's side. She nuzzled her snout beneath Catherine's chin and one of her big paws rested gently against the woman's forearm.

"Hiya, Troop," Catherine welcomed her canine companion, her warmth and calmness. "You know, if I start to see you fall off that bridge in my sleep I think I might need to check myself into some sort of mental institution," she lamented. Catherine stared into the dog's soulful eyes and smiled, "How did you do it, Trooper?" she wondered. "You were abandoned, probably neglected before that. Did they hurt you?" Catherine wondered.

The dog shifted her head lower and gave her owner's hand a delicate lick of affection.

"I think I remember Steve saying you'd been on the verge of being put down at the shelter." Catherine ran her palm along the animal's soft coat, recalling how much of a comfort her childhood dog had been after Ben's loss. "How'd you come back from all that?"

A soft yawn emitted from Trooper before she closed her eyes and snuggled up even closer beside her human friend.

"Oh," Catherine felt a tear welling in her left eye, surprised she had any left to shed, "I think I get it," she whispered to the dog, "You found shelter here, hmm? You found a home and people to love you. And I've got that, too, right? Is that what you're trying to tell me, girl?"

Catherine's eyes closed for a moment as she smiled, thinking about what she'd just overheard Steve saying.

Family and friends are what get you through a battle. They're what you fight for. Dogs included.

Before she knew it sleep had overtaken her again.

Steve had only been back downstairs for a half hour when he sniffed the kitchen air and frowned.

The omelet he was preparing had onions, green peppers, ham and two different cheeses, which combined to produce a pleasant smell. And the dog was nowhere to be seen at the moment. That meant the assault against his nostrils could only be due to one thing. He turned to look at the baby boy securely propped against his left shoulder. Evan looked perfectly happy there as his daddy cooked breakfast.

"You've got to be kidding me," Steve groaned as he turned his head so he could easily sniff the boy's backside, confirming what he'd already suspected. He scrunched his nose a little, "I sure don't have to be a detective to figure out where that's coming from," his head shook at the baby, "Again already? You really couldn't have waited and done it all at once?"

Evan smiled, reaching for his daddy's mouth.

"I get that I told Catherine I'd change the first couple of poopy diapers when we got home, but I just never expected them to be back-to-back," a soft chuckle escaped Steve's mouth as he nibbled gently on the baby's slender fingers. "This is why mommies and daddies change yucky diapers," he tickled the boy's belly, "Because you're too cute to know any better."

He reached over to turn the burner off with his free hand and moved the skillet off the remaining heat.

"Okie-dokie," Steve's voice remained calm, knowing it wasn't the little boy's fault he'd had two blowouts in a half hour. "Seriously, what has mommy been feeding you, huh?" he asked in a playful tone as he walked up the stairs.

Steve laid the boy out on the changing table again to assess the situation.

Evan twisted at his waist a bit as Steve freed his second leg from the red and white striped outfit.

"Hey, wiggly…" Steve chuckled, keeping a hand against the boy's right side, "Stay put for a second. I need to change this diaper or your mommy will accuse me of neglect." He pulled the soiled diaper free and used it to wipe off some of the poo, grateful an entire wardrobe change was not necessary this time. Evan let out a squawk that sounded like a bird. "You're right, I doubt she'd ever do that. She's a really good mommy, isn't she?" Steve smiled when Evan cooed, "Yeah, you certainly got a good one. I know you'd probably rather it was her changing your diaper right now."

Evan lifted his hands into the air and let out a soft sigh.

Steve nodded, "I know. I understand she's the one you want most at this point in your life." He reached for a wet wipe and his eyes widened a little when he looked back down at the baby. Realizing his mistake, Steve expertly grabbed one of the pee-pee teepees that Danny had gifted them. He managed to place it over the baby's tiny penis just before the flood gates opened, "Whoa, that was a close call," he joked with his son.

A low humming sound came from the baby, his dark eyes aimed up at his father.

"I understand your mommy is the preferred parent at the moment because she has nice breasts…" Steve paused, shaking his head, "That did not come out how I meant. They are nice for me, of course, but I meant they're nice for you to do your nursing thing," Steve shook his head again to clear away those thoughts, "Let's just be glad you'll never remember this conversation."

Evan reached his right arm out toward the door. His head turned in that direction as well.

"You really do want mommy, don't you?" Steve asked, doing his best to be gentle and quick. "I can't really blame you; mommy is the better parent at all this stuff. But I need to tell you something about mommy," he eyed the little boy who seemed to be interested in his voice again. "Your mama has one flaw. It's not a very bad flaw, though. You see, she's spent most of her life being badass. She doesn't like me using that word around you, so let's keep that between us. But seriously, either behind the scenes or in the field, your mommy is a badass," Steve insisted.

Although he was currently trying to shove his left foot into his mouth, Evan still stared up at his father.

"It's no different now," Steve continued as he finished with the wipes, "Now she's just shifted her badass focus on being a badass mommy. But that's where her flaw emerges. The flaw is that she doesn't take enough time for herself. And that's where daddy comes in. I'm going to do my best to help her out so she can continue being your badass mommy."

Evan dropped the foot and reached for Steve.

"That's right," Steve smiled at the baby as he positioned the clean diaper, "And another thing… when you start getting a little more movement under your belt you're going to learn the art of rough housing, which is something daddies do best with their kids. That's something to look forward to, huh? Mommy might be all about comfort and eating, but daddy is for playtime," Steve declared as he securely fastened the diaper tabs and snapped up his outfit, "Not that I'm going to be a big softy. There will have to be chores and discipline at some point, but not for a while, hmm?"

Steve pulled the baby up and kissed his cheek then rested him against his chest.

"I should also let you know I'm not always the best at relaxing and taking breaks," he spoke to the boy again as they made their way into the hall. "They say opposites attract, but your mom and I are a lot alike. We share that flaw I mentioned. But you know what?" Steve rested a hand against his son's back as they made their way down the stairs, "I look forward to learning how to relax with your mom."

The baby let go a sharp cry.

"No, not like that…" Steve grinned, joking with his son, "We're already very good at that kind of relaxation," he shared a wink with the baby, patting his back softly to calm the boy's cries, "And I'll probably need to stop talking to you about certain things in regard to mommy and daddy as soon as you can understand me," he chuckled as they entered the kitchen.

Steve managed to wash his hands, one at a time while carefully holding on to the baby.

Then he continued to alternate between talking to his son and finishing the omelet.

Her eyes focused on the ceiling for a short time, contemplating getting up or staying in bed.

She'd fallen asleep again for a while with the dog, long enough to suffer through her recurring bridge dream again. This time her father had been the one on the bridge with her. He'd also fallen off the bridge while she'd been forced to watch, reaching out frantically for his hand. She shifted to her left and spotted the cell phone her father had gifted her. Catherine realized his presence in the dream had probably only been due to having him on her mind.

Trooper was noticeably missing from the bed as she shifted again, and something crinkled beneath her.

Catherine pulled Steve's note out from under her arm and re-read it.

Her eyes sought out the clock on her nightstand and she realized it was already eight o'clock in the morning. Evan was usually hungry by that time of morning. She tried to stay put and relax, let Steve handle the baby for a while. But after only a few more seconds of lying there she heard her baby boy crying. There was a short sharp cry at first, then it slowly grew into a drawn out cranky cry.

Catherine remained torn for a while, knowing Steve could handle a few cries. But, while she would have loved to stay in bed all day, her overwhelming desire to be with them quickly won out. The top sheet covering her was haphazardly pushed back and she sat up. Her legs swung over the side of the bed and her feet had almost touched the floor when she was abruptly interrupted.

"Where the heck do you think you're going?" Steve asked from the doorway.

She turned to face him with a sheepish look.

Catherine hadn't heard him make his way up the stairs. He was most definitely stealthy.

Although now that she took a moment to reflect, she realized Evan's cries had grown steadily louder, clearly because he was closer. Despite the crying baby in his arms, most of her worries faded as she caught sight of Steve. His tall and lanky frame was adorned by her polka dot apron. The baby was held at his right hip, and a plate of food was balanced with his left hand.

It was such a domestic look, and sexy as hell.

"I was just going to…"

"No," he eyed her feet, which were still hovering inches above the floor. "I don't care what you were about to do, get back in that bed."

A ridiculous jolt of desire pooled in her belly as he spoke the command. She was about as independent as a woman could get, but there was a certain undeniably desirous quality to Steve McGarrett's authoritative tone. It did things to her she hated to admit; girly clichés like making her knees weak and her stomach flip-flop. Made her wish there wasn't a baby in his arms or food for that matter. Made her dream about a cabin in the woods, the silence of snow falling all around them, and the things she'd like to do to him inside that cabin on their own.

With a shake of her head to clear those thoughts, she smiled, her feet still hovering near the hardwood floor.

"And if I fail to obey your orders?" she playfully tested his resolve.

Steve's jaw twitched, knowing she wasn't one for a domineering man. He let out a breath; let all pretenses fade as he regarded her with a small shrug, "I can't force you, but I'd really like you to stay in bed. I had a whole thing planned," his left hand raised the plate a little in indication, "I was going to feed you and make you feel like the most special mommy and wife in the world - a queen for the day."

Those words did the trick, melting her need to test or tease him.

Catherine sat back and pushed her feet between the sheets again as she propped pillows behind her.

"First," he walked over and leaned down so Evan was near her.

The little guy was still somewhat fussy, but he kicked his legs excitedly as soon as he spotted his mother.

Evan's hands were outstretched for her as he emitted a soft cry.

"I already feel special," she said while taking the baby from her husband, holding Evan under his little arms. Catherine pulled him closer, delighting in the feel of his soft, chubby body. She pressed a tender kiss against his cheek and then held him so his little nose was pressed against her nose. "Have you been helping daddy make breakfast?" Catherine asked in a tender voice that was far more baby-talk than she ever imagined herself using. She didn't mind because it elicited an excited squeal from her little boy, chasing away his cries.

"More like interrupted," Steve lightly intoned as he finally had a free hand to untie and shed the apron. He tossed it aside and cuddled up beside her in bed. Steve reclined, legs spread out in front of him. "He woke up this morning just as I was mixing the eggs. I had to run upstairs to grab him before he could wake you, then changed an extremely dirty diaper and his clothes. Then I dragged him down into the kitchen with me," he explained, "And just before I was about to cook the omelet there was a second stinky diaper. After that I was stuck wearing him as an accessory while I cooked breakfast, because every time I tried to put him down he got cranky."

Catherine grinned, "So you spoiled him?"

"Yep," he readily agreed, "Just like you picking him up every time he makes the tiniest peep," Steve said, eyeing her as she gave a resigned shrug, knowing it was true. "And now I plan to do the same for you… spoil you," he announced as he balanced the plate between them.

Her eyes widened as she noticed the huge omelet and what looked like five pieces of toast, "Are you expecting me to eat all that food?"

"No, it's to share," Steve took up the fork, "But you might need to eat a bigger share because I'm sure Mr. Cranky Pants is going to be hungry soon."

Her lips formed an exaggerated frown as she looked sympathetically at the baby pressed against her chest. "That's not a very nice thing for daddy to call you, is it? You tell him you're just a baby and you have to cry sometimes to make your needs known."

Steve chuckled, "I thought we weren't doing that?" he probed, watching as her brow rose is an equally questioning manner, "You know, the whole calling each other mommy and daddy thing."

A shrug was her first response as she kissed Evan's forehead, "I've pretty much gotten over that." Catherine ran a hand soothingly up and down Evan's back. "Nearly dying a few times makes you remember not to sweat the small stuff. And I may have overheard you calling me mommy several times this morning when you were changing that first nasty diaper."

"Ah, so you're an eavesdropper now, are you?" Steve cocked his head at her. "Maybe that was a private conversation."

"Sorry," she was genuinely apologetic, "But… everything you said…" Catherine felt her throat constrict a little. She couldn't quite find the words to let him know how deeply his words had touched her.

"You're right about not sweating the small stuff," Steve agreed, cutting a piece of omelet, scooping it onto the fork and holding it out to her. He noticed the way she'd narrowed her eyes at the offer, "Come on, this is all part of the making you feel special service," he wiggled the bite of food at her; "Open wide," Steve made it into an airplane for a moment.

"Really?" Catherine rolled her eyes.

"Practicing for the little guy," he grinned, "Now, eat."

Her smile returned, "You are rather sexy in command mode," she whispered, leaning in and carefully taking the offered bite as she gazed into his cheerful eyes. Catherine's eyes widened as she chewed, "Oh, wow… that is so good," a contended sigh escaped her lips as she watched him gather up another forkful. She eagerly took the second bite without hesitation. It tasted even better than the first. "I love green peppers in a ham and cheese omelet."

"I know," Steve beamed at how happy she seemed at the moment, guessing a little bit of sleep had been a big contributor. He took a bite as she chewed her second. Putting the fork down, he handed her a half slice of multi-grain toast.

"To be honest," Catherine said as she paused between bites, "I was more leery of your omelet cooking abilities than you feeding me. It's not something I knew you could do; omelets. I thought you were only a hash brown expert?"

He grinned, "I have many talents. One of them is being able to follow online instructions."

She chuckled at that and munched her toast as Evan remained snuggled against her chest, "You're being so good, nugget. Did you miss us?"

Steve turned his voice as high pitched as possible and shifted so he was speaking from behind Evan's back, "Yes, mommy. I missed you so, so much. I hope you never leave again. Aunt Mary is great and all, but I love you the most, mommy!" he exclaimed, attempting to interpret his son's content look.

He sat back and grabbed the fork.

Catherine and Evan both stared at him with the same look on their faces, one that clearly said: you're an idiot.

Steve could only laugh at their identical looks.

They continued eating, sharing bites of the omelet that was plenty big enough for two. The toast and eggs disappeared in swift fashion. All the while Evan happily stayed in his mother's arms, occasionally reaching out to grasp her lips or her hair, or just craning his neck to stare at her in the hopes she wouldn't disappear again any time soon. The meal was nearly completed when Evan finally made it known he was hungry as well, tugging on the collared neckline of Catherine's shirt, which was actually Steve's shirt that she'd fallen asleep in.

"Someone knows where the good stuff comes from," Steve joked as he took the plate and sat it atop his nightstand.

She unbuttoned her shirt and Evan did most of the work as he nestled in and went straight to suckling.

"So…" Catherine rested her head against Steve's shoulder as Evan nursed. "Is this it for the day?"

"Well, yeah…" he eyed her, "This is what you said you wanted, a whole week of it in fact."

"I know," she was quick to agree, "I just figured you'd already be making plans behind my back to go to work, or..."

"Nope," he responded as the fingers of his left hand lazily caressed her shoulder, "I've got nothing planned all week. Unless you think you'll get bored of this?" Steve watched her head shake. "We could rot our brains on television if you want, but since we don't have a TV up here we'd have to…"

"Move this slug-fest downstairs?" Catherine guessed, "Bed, sofa… pretty much the same thing. Definitely doable," she agreed, gently running her palm along Evan's soft hair. "But I'd say this guy is gonna nap after eating and I wouldn't mind lounging in bed a little longer."

"You got it," Steve agreed, "Whatever my sexy wife wants, she gets."

Her chuckle caused the baby to shift a bit, but he settled back down almost instantly, "I kind of like sexy wife as a nickname. It's better than sweetie or pookie bear," she noted, "And it's a definite improvement on battle-axe. It may not be appropriate for outside the house, though, or in front of our boy when he's old enough to understand those words."

Steve nodded, "How about just wifey?" he suggested, "And you'll know the sexy part is implied."

"Wifey?" she grimaced.

"What? It's a combo of the two, wife and sexy… wifey," Steve declared.

"We'll work on it some more," Catherine patted his knee in a placating manner.

Their attention was suddenly diverted toward the sound of the doorbell.

"Are we expecting anyone?" Steve turned to his wife but she shook her head. He could see the remnants of fear lingering behind her dark eyes, despite how hard she was trying not to show it. "Hmm, stay here," he suggested, still not entirely at ease being back home either. It was hard to forget the past week of their lives, the struggle to stay alive. It was meant to be easier once they'd landed on Oahu, but Lawson and those in his employ had given them plenty to be fearful of while on their home turf. "I'll be right back."

"Steve…"

He heard the trepidation in her tone and turned to flash a reassuring smile her way. "It's probably nothing," Steve maintained a calm attitude about the situation. "Your cell is right there on the nightstand, just in case."

Steve pressed a kiss to her cheek, got out of bed, and was half way out into the hall before she could think of a further protest.

Catherine hated how on edge she still was. She was home, she was meant to feel safe in her own home. For the most part she did, but there was still that niggling feeling in the back of her mind. Lawson had housed hundreds of boys in Brazil over the years, some of which had turned into men, men who were fiercely loyal to him. Men who had so easily stood guard outside her stateroom on that ship where she'd been held prisoner for months.

She'd befriended a few of the boys at Lawson's compound, Henry and Khalil, a few others. She'd even talked them into dropping their guard and giving in to the fact they were done being Lawson's soldiers. But that didn't mean they were all together ready to say good-bye to that way of life; the way they'd been raised. Clearly some of them were still willing to fight back, such as Emerson and a few others who'd escaped transfer.

In an attempt to settle her racing heart, Catherine grabbed her cell phone. She held it tightly, like a life line, as she listened to the soft muffled sounds downstairs. The slight creak of the old front door that Steve kept meaning to oil was actually a reassuring sound. But the indistinct conversation between her husband and someone else she couldn't identify did little to calm her nerves.

Her phone vibrated and she nearly jumped.

One hand remained secure around Evan as he nursed. He seemed oblivious to any possible danger.

She glanced down at the text message she'd just received and smiled when she realized it was from Kono.

Her smile faded as she read.

Steve will probably be pissed if he finds out
I sent these to you, but I knew you'd want
to see some of this stuff sooner rather than
later. I'll deal with the boss, if need be.
Take care.

Catherine noticed three of the files were videos. The forth was a simple text document.

Unable to contain her curiosity, Catherine played the first clip.

She wasn't prepared for it.

An's battered image abruptly came into view on the cell phone's screen. The woman was deathly pale and looked half starved. Her dark hair hung somewhat over her eyes, matted and filthy. There were dirty sweat tracks running down her face, cuts and bruises marring her cheeks. Catherine could see the woman's eyes were closed behind the hair hanging over them, but An was conscious.

She was mumbling something.

"You can't make me… you can't… make me…"

Her voice hit Catherine's ears in a broken string of syllables.

The same words repeated several more times until Catherine realized she'd heard wrong.

An was in fact repeating, "You can't break me." She suddenly sat up straighter and shouted it at the top of her lungs, "You can't break me!"

The video panned out to show An tied to a small metal chair. Her blue blouse was soaked with sweat, sticking to her frail body. She remained sitting upright, making herself as tall as she could. An shook her head, effectively removing the hair from her eyes. Her gaze took a while to focus in on where the camera was set before she defiantly asked, "How is that for endurance?"

Catherine recalled what An had told her about Wo Fat and Lawson being present, but mostly keeping their hands clean.

The recording was probably for their benefit.

Her stomach clenched as a different voice could be heard through the clip. Catherine knew the voice without seeing the face.

"This is very disappointing, An," Vichy spoke in a controlled manner as he came into view. "Let's try again, shall we?"

An glared at the man. "How can I be a disappointment when he told me these tests were about endurance? Haven't I endured enough?" she wondered.

"I think you misunderstood him," the man gave a simple shrug.

"No, I didn't," she replied. "He said my brother would have enemies, enemies who might try to use me against him. He said I needed to be tougher. I agreed." She looked up at Vichy with eyes that were losing hope quickly. "I've changed my mind. I don't want to do this any longer," she pleaded. "I made a mistake. I thought he wanted to train me to work with my brother, but this is… torture."

Vichy scoffed, "Do you think your brother's enemies will be as kind as I've been?"

She starred off screen for a moment, "Are you watching right now? I thought you were my friend. We traveled together, you taught me about the business you and my brother run. You let me into your homes around the world. I've helped you with security systems for most of your buildings. I… I told you about the falling out with my parents. I thought we trusted one another. I trusted you when I agreed to this training, but this doesn't feel right."

"He's not here," Vichy said to her.

"Yes, he is. I know he's watching," An turned toward the same spot, starring somewhere off screen. "I agreed to help you. I've agreed to a lot, but not this. Not being a scapegoat," her gaze returned to Vichy, "Your trainer here is a monster, but he will not break me."

Vichy chuckled mirthlessly, "Oh, I'm pretty sure I will." Vichy circled An like a shark, "Now, let's review. You set up Dugan and Chase, and Meyer. You got Melanie Lawson killed. It was you who did all those things. Say it, believe it," he whispered the last part in her ear, leaning in to caress her neck.

"No, I didn't hurt anyone," An maintained, her voice not as in control as before.

Vichy allowed his fingers to wander to her blouse, "It was your plan to set everything up, your idea to make Steve think Billy had killed Cathleen Dugan." He kept touching her, light caresses along her neck and arms, wearing a satisfied grin as she recoiled from him, "You care about Billy, don't you? So you came up with the plan. Tell me what you did. You killed them, didn't you? Tell me?"

Her head shook, the only part of her that could move, "No," she remained firm.

Vichy nodded, "You killed them."

"No."

"Yes, you murdered them."

"No."

"Say it, you killed them."

"No."

"Repeat each word I say," Vichy commanded, "I…"

"I," An whispered.

"Killed…"

"Killed," she gritted her teeth, speaking in a low hiss.

"Dugan…"

"Dugan."

"And Melanie…"

"And…" An went quiet for a moment, "No. I did not kill any of them," her eyes diverted to the same spot off screen again, "This is what you want from me?" she asked, "All I wanted was to know where I came from. I wanted to know my family. My brother."

No response was given from the shadows.

"Of course you did," Vichy picked up where he'd left off. "That was your plan. You wanted…"

There was a loud throat clearing from off screen.

Vichy straightened his stance a little, "You wanted your brother to notice you," he continued to use the term brother, clearly instructed not to use names on camera. "Because your adoptive parents never could love you the way you wanted. The way you desired. How could they? You're not their blood."

"They raised me," An protested with a little less fight.

"But they're not real family," Vichy maintained, "Your so-called parents were paid and forced to raise you, An. The sooner you realize that the better off you'll be," he insisted. "Your brother is all you have left. You figure he needs your help because he's been wrongly accused. Revenge is yours to take. So you came up with this plan to help him. Setting up Billy for murder, getting McGarrett pissed enough to kill Billy.

"No," she denied. "No… no… no…"

Another sound was made from out of camera range.

Vichy sighed, annoyed. He turned and walked into the shadows.

"You said this would work," a man's voice could be heard.

Catherine knew it was Lawson. For some reason she'd been hoping it was someone else, but she knew better.

"It is working," Vichy defended. "I'm very close to breaking her."

"It's been months," Lawson replied, "You said you were close after three weeks," he reminded, "And after seven weeks, as well as ten weeks."

Vichy scoffed, "You think this is so easy then you give it a shot. She's stronger than she looks. I've already drugged her past the reasonable dosage for a woman of her size. She's been starved and left in that chair for days at a time and still she fights back."

Lawson let go an amused chuckle, "She and her brother come from a strong line. She has certain skills that could be very valuable to us, but we need her compliant for our next phase. We need her to become something more than just a fall guy, preferably. She's helped immensely so far with that Billy fellow, but we need more. We need absolute compliance. I laid the ground work. I found her, I became her friend, a confidant. Now it's up to you to make sure she can handle anything that might deter her. Is that understood?" Lawson asked.

"Of course," Vichy answered in a clipped tone, clearly not a fan of being directed, "But I can't keep this up, simply trying to confuse and beat her into submission. I need to be able to handle things my way. I'd like to show her the true consequences of her refusal," he demanded.

The clip ended there.

Catherine held the phone with a shaky hand.

She didn't need to hear specifics to know what Vichy had in mind. An had never admitted at much, but it had seemed evident in her reluctance to speak about it. The worst was that Lawson had never appeared on screen. She could easily ID his voice, but that sort of evidence was usually the hardest to make stick. Catherine sighed as she glanced down at her son. Worry flooded her, fear that she was exposing him to such awful things. Even if he couldn't see the video, he could still hear the hateful things occurring.

Steve appeared at the door, smiling as he moved across the room and settled down beside her again on the bed.

Catherine covertly powered down her phone without him seeing, but he did notice something was off. She could see the concern in his eyes.

"You alright?" he asked, troubled by the strange look she wore. He couldn't quite place it. Not exactly trepidation, but some degree of unease.

"I'm fine," she insisted. Lied.

"Okay," he gave a small nod, not entirely convinced of her response. Steve hoped she'd eventually open up about everything that was bothering her, but he'd give her time. "That was Officer Nehala at the door. He and Officer Cramer are going to be watching the house this week. Sorry I took so long, but I wanted to go over a few things about the property and alarm system with them."

"Why are they here?" Catherine was immediately suspicious, "Did something happen?"

"No," Steve's head shook as he ran his hand along her shoulder for added reassurance, "Danny and the team are just being overly cautious, but there's nothing to worry about. Lawson is behind bars. He can't hurt us."

She let go a sharp scoff, "You think he can't hurt us?" Catherine questioned. "What about Emerson and those other boys that are out there on their own right now? With the sort of skills they possess… they could…" she sighed, shaking her head in frustration after what she'd just watched, "You think Lawson doesn't still have connections around the world, people still loyal to him and his money?"

"Of course I know he does," Steve responded, trying to keep a cool head, "Emerson didn't seem the sort fueled by money, though."

"How do you know?" she shot back at him, "We know so little about any of those boys."

He took a deep breath, "Okay, you're right. I don't know," Steve agreed, "But I do know I can't live my life in fear. We can't keep looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives. How can we raise Evan if we live a paranoid life?"

Catherine wanted to argue that she wasn't being paranoid, but after watching that brief clip of An with Vichy she was very much on edge. She knew An had gotten herself involved with Lawson and Wo Fat willingly and yet they'd still hurt her. She knew An had fought as hard as she could and that she'd lost. Catherine had too much at stake to lose. "I'm not saying I want to raise him with police officers surrounding us 24-7," Catherine sighed, "I just… I don't have the answers. I want the police here and yet I don't, which doesn't even make sense to me."

"No one has the answers, Catherine," Steve tried to reason. He glanced down to see Evan's eyes were closed, completely down for the count. "He's asleep," Steve shook his head in amazement at how the little guy could be so oblivious to the world other than eating, sleeping and enjoying time with his parents. He was glad their son seemed unaware of their argument. "Why don't I put him down so you can shower? Or better yet, take a nice long bath," he effortlessly took Evan into his hold with no protest from his wife.

She nodded, trying to regroup, "I'm sorry I got upset. I'm not mad at you."

He smiled, "I know," Steve leaned forward to give her a quick kiss.

"You'll keep an ear out for him while I'm in the bathroom?" Catherine needed his assurance.

"You got it, take your time," he insisted, making his way toward the door, "I think he's gonna be out for a while. He was up early." Steve smiled at her, grateful that she was finally letting him do more for her, "Most important thing you can do right now is… relax," he reiterated.

Her head gave a vague nod, "I'll try."

"No, don't just try," he implored, "Do it."

Catherine didn't bother buttoning her shirt as she got out of bed and walked around to meet him at the door. She pressed her lips to his for a brief moment and then stared up at him, "I love you so much. I hope you know that."

"Love you, too," Steve replied before he carried Evan away.

000

Steve and Catherine woke together in a small guest bedroom.

The room's windows were adorned with frilly, white lace curtains and the bed was covered in a pale blue matelassé coverlet.

It was all very old fashioned, yet the Hart's had not balked at them sharing a bed.

Emmett and Gerda Hart had insisted they stay with them, to which Steve and Catherine had been extremely grateful. Steve had helped Emmett clean out a clogged drain in the basement laundry sink. Catherine had overheard a bit of their conversation as it floated upward into the kitchen, their words heavily focused on Freddie. She'd chatted about the same with Gerda as they'd cleaned up after the reception.

They'd just buried their son, but the reality of dirty dishes and clogged drains meant life went on.

Catherine and Steve had fallen asleep early after their emotional day, and had managed to sleep in late.

They'd taken turns showering, not feeling comfortable enough in the Hart's home to shower together. Now they were fully dressed and seated out on the narrow front porch of the old San Diego house that overlooked a sliver of Pacific Ocean in the distance. They quietly sipped their steaming coffee while holding hands and exchanging small glances, both of them equally glad to be alive and in the other's company.

The Hart's had left early to attend church, leaving them alone for the morning.

It wasn't long, though, before Kelly and Emma approached the house. They were each dressed in far less formal attire than the previous day, shorts and t-shirts, sandals and sunglasses. Emma skipped faster upon spotting them on the porch. She jumped up the four front steps with the exuberant energy of a typical child her age. "Hi, Unca Steve and Aunty Cath!" she exclaimed.

"You two ready for fishing?" Kelly asked as she leaned against the porch's banister, arms crossed over the top rail as she faced her friends.

"Mommy and me made sam'iches for a picnic on the boat," Emma grinned proudly, rushing over and hugging Catherine without prompting. "Will you sit next to me on the boat, Aunty Cath?"

Catherine felt a deep tug in her chest; not from her cracked ribs. It was a special warmth reserved for the very sweet little girl of Freddie Hart. She'd never been called Aunty by anyone before. It felt right coming from the girl. Catherine nodded, "I'd like that," she agreed.

They finished their coffee, grabbed a few things and locked up the house.

Steve held Catherine's hand as they followed Kelly and Emma to the car. After a half hour drive they arrived at a small lake outside of the city. The surrounding landscape was mostly rolling brush-covered hills with a few chaparral trees interspersed. Her brother's boat was not nearly as fancy as the one they'd rented in Florida. It was a small fishing boat, metal sides and simple outboard motor. It sat the four of them comfortably enough and it even included fishing poles and a fully stocked tackle box.

Kelly was quite adapt at driving her brother's boat so Steve and Catherine sat back and enjoyed the ride.

It was Emma who told her mother where to stop. Smack dab in the middle of the lake where it was sunniest.

"I think the fish like to stick to the outer banks, kiddo," Steve tried to interject, but the little girl shook her head and he couldn't argue with her.

The four of them soaked up the sunny afternoon, alternating between fishing and munching on their lunch. Their poles hung slack over the boat's edge for an hour with no fish biting. Emma finally agreed to move closer to the shore as her honorary uncle had suggested. Another half hour passed without a single tug at their poles. They were all about to call it a day when Catherine felt her pole jerk forward.

"Hey, I think I might have something," she sat up, concentrating on the insistent pull and zing of the line being drawn out.

"You have to plant your feet a little more," Steve shot out instructions, "Ease it in… do you need me to…"

Catherine turned and glared at him, "I've got this handled," she gently spun the reel as the fish on the line tugged harder. Her injured side protested a lot. "Emma, why don't you help me?" she finally suggested. "Grab the net and be ready, I think this guy is a big one."

The girl's eyes lit up with delight, honored to be the one called upon for help.

Kelly and Steve sat back with smiles and a camera. Kelly shot half a dozen snaps before the fish finally made its appearance.

With a hand covering his mouth, Steve tried hard not to laugh.

Emma eagerly captured the fish with the net, which didn't take much effort as he was probably the tiniest largemouth bass in the entire lake. The child beamed proudly as she held the net and fish, "We got him!"

"Yep, we sure did," Catherine reached into the net and freed the poor little guy from his barbless hook. "But you know what, Em? This guy is just too small to keep," she did her best to break the news gently to the child.

"He is?" Emma frowned. "We can't take him home with us?"

"Nope," Catherine's head shook, "He needs to go back and swim with his mommy fish and daddy fish for a while longer."

"Oh," the child was clearly disappointed, but she seemed to understand. "Okay."

Catherine helped Emma gently release the fish back into the lake, watching as the girl waved good bye to him. Kelly proposed that their fishing day end on that farewell. The others agreed, especially since Steve and Catherine had to fly out that night. The four of them returned to the Hart's home and were treated to a hearty meal prepared by Gerda. After that Kelly and Emma saw them off at the airport.

Emma looked up at her uncle Steve and smiled, "We go fishing again 'morrow?" she asked.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he hated to disappoint her, "Catherine and I need to get home."

"Where's you home?" Emma's eyes shifted to Catherine.

"Hawaii," the woman replied, squatting so that she was at eye level with the girl.

"Oh…" Emma seemed to mull that over, clearly not sure where Hawaii was or how far away it was from where she lived. The girl turned her head back and forth a few times between her aunt and uncle, "When you gonna come visit me 'gain?"

"I'm not sure, sweetie," Steve replied.

"Soon, we hope," Catherine added.

Emma was happy enough with that response. "Okay, bye-bye!" she gave them each a hug and waved as they walked over to join the security check line.

They watched the little girl drag her mother along by the hand, following the security line as long as she could until they slipped out of sight.

Their flight wasn't too long, and no turbulence. Catherine's dose of Dramamine had worked wonders for her, even allowed her to sleep for a little bit of the trip. But her sore ribs kept the nap from being very restful. Steve carried her bag for her off the plane and they moved silently through the motions; reaching the terminal and the cab station, and enduring the forty minute drive back to his place, which was where her car had been parked.

Steve payed the cab driver and they stood by her blue corvette for a moment.

She leaned heavily against him, sensing he needed her close.

He wrapped his arms around her, clinging to her as he broke down right there in his front yard. His tears finally came again, the first ones shed since he'd briefly wept over Freddie's remains in North Korea. Unable to keep it at bay any longer, the entire ordeal came crashing down on him. The horror of finding his buddy in a shallow grave, nearly dying, and worse than that, nearly getting Catherine killed while she'd been helping him.

Catherine held him, calmly rubbing his back. She tried to be the strong one for him even as her own tears fell freely.

000

After her tranquil soak in the tub Catherine was feeling slightly less on edge.

The bath she'd opted for had done wonders for relaxing her muscles. For nearly forty-five minutes she'd forgotten about her troubles.

She pulled on comfy grey cotton leggings, and wore a loose fitting white tank top over her nursing bra. Catherine left her feet bare and her face free of makeup. She combed her damp hair and pulled it back into a low ponytail in an effort to keep it out of Evan's hands. She hung her towel up to dry and entered the bedroom. Her eyes immediately spotted the phone on her nightstand.

Catherine was drawn to it, compelled to power it back on. She was overwhelmed by the need to see more of the videos Kono had sent. She needed to know if Lawson would ever reveal himself. An had told her the files would be enough to put Lawson away for good, but Catherine feared they wouldn't. She was worried he'd go free and rebuild everything they'd been fighting so hard to destroy the last few months.

The second clip began to play as she sat down on the edge of her bed.

An was the first thing Catherine saw again, but the woman wasn't as gaunt. In fact she seemed muscular.

She was standing in the middle of a room, her feet hip width apart. In her hand was a weapon, nine millimeter.

There was a series of sounds, popping, clanging. An spun around the room and fired at random intervals. Her eyes darted across the space, seeming to search for something specific. The noises stopped for a moment as she reloaded, then a new series began. The same thing occurred, An aiming and firing as she searched the room. Finally the camera panned out to show a multitude of cardboard figures in the room.

A few were female, but most were male. There were even some images of children and dogs.

"How'd she do?" Lawson's voice could be heard off screen, again unseen.

"She got all but one, she's making great progress," Vichy proudly relayed as he walked into view of the camera. "An, stand down," he directed.

There was silence for a moment as An slowly lowered her gun.

Lawson spoke again, "Impressive, you really have turned a science tech into a killing machine. In theory. But… did she hit anyone else?"

Vichy seemed uncomfortable for a moment before he nodded, "Yes, three others this time. I'm sure it was an accident."

Catherine guessed Vichy's worry steamed from the knowledge that if he messed up with An he'd pay a price.

"Which ones?" Lawson asked.

Vichy moved around the room, collecting some of the cardboard cutouts. He displayed three of them in front of the camera.

Catherine felt her stomach tighten upon seeing the three female faces.

Doris.

Mary.

The third was a picture of herself.

She watched as Vichy collected more cutouts and eventually tossed at least a dozen onto the ground at An's feet.

All of those faces were the same.

Steve.

"Still," Lawson sighed, "She missed one."

"Yes, but one is a marginal mistake," Vichy defended.

"When have you ever known me to accept marginal mistakes?" Lawson demanded, "I'm beginning to question your loyalty, Vichy. It'd be a shame if I tipped off the CIA about your double dealings with an international human trafficking business."

Vichy seemed sufficiently mollified by that threat. He calmly walked over to An and held his hand out to her, "The weapon, please?" he requested. They stood facing one another for a long moment. "You think about it every time, don't you, An? Maybe I should leave one bullet. Maybe I should shoot him instead of the targets," Vichy summed up what he felt she was thinking.

"Why shouldn't I?" An finally spoke.

"Because you know they won't give up if I'm dead. They'll just find someone new to do my job," Vichy replied, "And you sort of like me."

An looked disgusted, "In your dreams," she said before smacking the gun against his palm. After that she moved across the room, grabbed a chair and dragged it to the middle of the dark space. She sat down and waited for what she seemed to know would follow.

The first video had obviously occurred before this one. Their methods had seemed choppy before, but now An appeared to be complying.

Vichy disappeared for a couple minutes and then some sort of video began to play.

Catherine couldn't see the screen, just a flicker of light that changed colors from time to time.

"Who is this?" Vichy asked.

"Doris McGarrett," An responded, hands resting calmly against her thighs.

Catherine thought the woman looked too composed. It sent a chill along her spin.

"And who is she?"

"She's a CIA agent."

Vichy appeared again, but the video remained hidden, "What did she do to you, An?"

The woman stared straight ahead at the flashing screen, "She killed my family. She killed my real mother and father. She kidnapped me and separated me from my brother. She sold me to my adoptive parents."

"How do you feel about that? How do you feel about her?" Vichy kept up his barrage of questions.

"I'd like to kill her," An said without hesitation.

He smiled, "Do you know where she is?"

An sighed, "No. Neither do you."

Vichy gave a nod, "That's right. We'd tell you if we knew where she was. So, what is your second option since we can't find her?"

"I find her family."

"And…" he prodded.

"I kill them."

"All of them?" Vichy questioned.

"No, not the innocent ones. Not Mary," An turned to him.

"Who else are you not to kill? Who is the most important one that must live in all of this?" the man persisted.

"Catherine Rollins. She's not to be harmed," An rolled her hands into fists as she spoke the last bit of her answer.

The motion did not go unnoticed by Catherine as she watched the woman closely.

Vichy looked down at An, "Why not Catherine Rollins?"

"She's important," An said, "She is the most innocent according to…" she looked to a point off screen, "According to the one who dictates all of this."

"And who is Catherine Rollins to you?" Vichy asked.

"She's… uh," An faltered a moment, "She works with Billy. And she… she is…"

"Yes?" he pushed her, "She is what, An? We've been over this before. Who is she to you?"

"My friend," An managed to say. "She's supposed to be my friend. I need to pretend to be her friend so that the one who dictates all this is pleased, so he has someone to watch out for her when he's not able to." She clenched her fists a little tighter, "But it's a lie. I'm not her friend. You made me get close to Billy to get close to her, but… I didn't. I barely spoke to her and her friends. This will never work."

Catherine could finally see there was fight left in her.

Vichy reached out and struck An, a hard smack across the face.

"You made me pretend to fall in love with Billy," An continued while blood trickled down her chin, "But you didn't count on me actually falling in love with him. He's a good man. He is Catherine's true friend. Steve McGarrett is a good man, too. All of this is stupid."

"You're the stupid one," Vichy growled as he approached the woman. He grasped her chin and squeezed her split lip until it bled even more. "You know there are consequences when you misbehave. Or maybe you like the consequences," he taunted.

An swept his legs in a split second and he tumbled onto his hands and knees.

She managed to get in a kick to his stomach before two men rushed into the room and restrained her arms, pulling her away from him.

They held her while glancing down at Vichy. "What do you want us to do with her?" one man asked.

Vichy scrambled to his feet, slightly doubled over, "String her up," he sneered.

The clip ended there.

Catherine stared at her phone's screen for a moment.

She got to her feet, pacing the bedroom, squeezing the phone tightly. Finally she flung the phone onto her bed. Her hands balled into fists as she tried to control her emotions, which wavered between wanting to punch a hole in the nearest wall and breaking down in tears. She knew she needed to calm down somehow, and fast. Steve would probably be looking for her soon, worried she'd fallen asleep in the tub or slipped.

A small smile actually graced her lips as she thought about her husband, and all they'd gone through together to get where they were now.

She left the phone behind and went in search of Steve and Evan, hoping they might be together.

Catherine entered the nursery less than a minute later and, sure enough, found Steve sitting on his knees upon the rug in the middle of the room. She could see Evan was in his portable crib. Her smile returned, realizing the two of them were exactly what she needed to calm down. They always settled her, always made her feel as if life wasn't completely set on breaking her down.

She finally noticed that Steve was surrounded by a sea of wooden parts and screws.

Evan's crib.

The baby in question was just beginning to stir from his nap and she walked over to scoop him up. With her free hand, Catherine spread a quilt out on the floor; the quilt her mother had given Evan at Christmas. It was a simple log cabin pattern with soft greens, blues, and white accents. She settled the baby down on his belly and sat between him and Steve. Her husband remained quiet the whole time as he studied the instruction manual.

"This is not TV watching and lounging," Catherine noted, reclining with her hands pressed against the floor behind her.

She took a deep breath, doing her best to push the images of An and Vichy from her mind.

"No," he grumbled.

"How's the crib building going?" she finally probed, already sensing his frustration. Catherine studied him for a moment. He was wearing black running shorts and a navy blue t-shirt, but his body language was not as relaxed as his attire.

"I think getting in and out of North Korea was easier than figuring out this crib assembly," Steve declared.

Catherine chuckled; thankful she could still manage such a happy emotion.

"Hmm…" he sighed, flipping a page and furrowing his brow as he read. "This might be English, but I'm pretty sure it was written by an alien from outer space. Listen to this: Insert tab B-2 into slot C-9 and use screw A-3 with wrench #824 which is included in the assembly package. But…" Steve looked around at the mess of parts and pieces, "I swear there's no wrench," he dropped the manual and turned to face her, "Seriously, Cath, I've had missions in high combat areas that were easier to accomplish than figuring out these instructions."

"I'm good at deciphering codes, maybe I could take a look," she suggested.

Steve picked up the manual and gripped it a little tighter, "No, I can handle this."

She laughed softly again, "Pride goeth before a fall," Catherine commented. "Figuring out coded battle plans was my job, Steve."

"Okay, smarty pants," Steve handed the manual over.

Catherine took several minutes to read it. "Apparently the assembly package is something you have to buy in addition to the crib contents, so the wrench is actually not included," she declared, "This really is all worded a little confusingly, but it looks like a standard hex head wrench," she showed him the picture she'd found. "I'm sure we have one of those. Where's your dad's toolbox? I think we can knock this out together in no time."

He leaned in and kissed a spot behind her left ear, "You smell good."

"You said I smelled good in the back of Paulo's truck after I'd been hiking through the rainforest for days," she remarked.

"Sure, you smelled good then, too," he gave a nod, "That was a primal, sweaty, pheromone smell. Now you have a freshly bathed smell. Your vanilla and jasmine scents are back, and… maybe there's a little added sexiness from seeing you figure out those instructions," Steve wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her earlobe again, then her neck and along her shoulder that was only covered with a narrow tank top strap

"If you keep this up, Evan will never get his crib done," she whispered, eyes closed as she delighted in the warmth of his lips against her skin.

Steve sat back, "I know exactly what's going to happen as soon as I get this crib done."

"Oh, do you?" Catherine wondered what he was talking about. "And I think you mean to say, as soon as we get this crib done."

He smiled, "So what happens is, Evan gets a nice finished crib in his nursery and he still ends up sleeping in the portable crib in our bedroom for another couple of months," Steve guessed, eyeing her to see if she would bother denying it.

Her lips quirked to the left a little, "Yeah, okay… maybe," she reluctantly admitted. "I tried having him in here last night, but it's just more convenient to keep him closer while I'm nursing," she defended her actions.

His head bobbed with understanding, "I know. It's fine. But he takes all naps in the crib to get him used to it," Steve laid out his plan.

She laughed, "I'll agree to most naps in his crib, unless I'm too tired to carry him there."

"Deal," he agreed. Steve shot to his feet and headed toward the door. "Don't move; I'll be right back."

He quickly made his way down to the garage where it took him a moment to remember where he'd last seen the old red toolbox. He finally spotted it on the floor beneath the work bench near the front of his dad's Mercury. Steve slid the metal box out from under the bench, gently scraping it across the concrete floor. He picked it up by the handle and turned to face his dad's Mercury. Steve ran a hand slowly along the side of the shiny black boat of a car. He always felt connected to his dad when the Mercury was in sight.

"We're doing alright, dad," Steve spoke to the car, or to his father's memory. He wasn't sure which, but probably both. "Lawson is behind bars and Catherine and I are home again with Evan," he gave a slow nod, a sigh escaping. "I'll never stop wishing you were here, though. Wishing you could meet your grandson," Steve swallowed, "I hope you know about him, somehow. I hope you can see it all."

He gave the car one last pat as he made his way back inside the house.

Evan was pushing himself up a little on his hands when Steve rejoined them. Catherine had gotten down on her belly in front of the baby, smiling and encouraging him. Evan lost his balance and fell forward, bumping his chin on the quilt. He was startled silent for a second and then let out a pitifully soft cry of distress. "You're okay, nugget," Catherine rubbed his back comfortingly.

"He's getting stronger every day," Steve said as he sat down and rummaged through his dad's toolbox.

Catherine turned the baby onto his back and smiled as Evan reached to his left to try and grab ahold of her, "I think he's already working toward rolling over," she noticed the baby's body twisting at the waist, his right leg arching slightly over the left as he continued to reach out his arms to her. She took pity on him and picked him up, although it was more a matter of her wanting to hold him.

"Aha!" Steve declared when he found the old trusty set of hex head wrenches his dad had bought ages ago. He tried a couple for size against the crib screws. "Perfect," Steve settled on the right one, grabbed the instruction booklet again and passed it over to his wife, "Okay, you read and I'll assemble."

She held on to Evan with one hand and flipped through the manual with her other.

An hour later they had a fully formed crib, and amazingly enough they didn't have any extra screws, washers or other leftover parts.

"Nice job, Team McGarrett," Steve said as he high-fived his wife.

Catherine chuckled as Steve tried to high-five their baby boy.

She stood, holding Evan against her right hip as Steve placed the crib mattress and put on the sheet. They'd ordered two sheets with the crib, one a solid aqua blue color. The second set had a tropical fish theme, which was the one Steve had chosen to put on first. He added the coordinating aqua blue baby bumpers and adjusted the bed to a proper height for a four month old infant.

Steve reached into the crib, pressed his hands against the mattress and pushed down hard to test the safety of the crib.

"Seems sturdy enough," he declared, "Want to give it the real test?"

With the utmost faith in their abilities, Catherine gently laid their son down in his new crib.

Evan lay on his back looking up at them with a toothless grin as he kicked his legs.

"Welcome home, champ," Steve said as he placed a hand against the boy's belly.

A tear slipped down Catherine's cheek as she felt the weight of Steve's simple words hit her in the gut. She realized it did feel like they were all finally home. With the final touch finished in Evan's nursery their home felt complete. She placed her hand against Steve's, both of them resting atop Evan's belly. The baby gazed up at them, still smiley as his hands gently patted theirs.

Steve had told her in Brazil that Evan had her happy smile, but Catherine definitely saw Steve's easy-going grin reflected in their boy.

"It's good to be home," she whispered.

To be continued…