In 65 days, Hawaii Five-0 will be back on TV and I'm already very excited! This one shot deals with the aftermath of Steve's liver transplant and what work will be like for him a couple of weeks after the emergency surgery - At least in my head. Enjoy!

Aftermath

Steve is out of breath. And his entire body is aching.

Maybe he should have listened when Danny had told him to stay behind. Maybe running around, dangling from balconies and climbing down trees only four weeks after getting a liver transplant, hadn't been such a brilliant idea. Not to mention chasing a criminal down the street for ten minutes. So, there was a slight possibility that, maybe, Danny had been right.

Steve inhales deeply and his breath hitches in the back of his throat when sharp pain shoots through his chest, all the way down to his abdomen. He reaches up with one hand to wipe cold sweat off his forehead.

Okay – Danny had been right. No doubt there.

Steve looks up, squinting. The midday sun is relentless and almost blinding, and the sweltering humidity presses down on him like a thick wool blanket. He draws in another deep breath when he sees Chin lead their perp-of-the-week toward the back of a waiting police cruiser. The handcuffed man is limping a bit and Steve can't help but smirk a little at the graze that he has put in the guy's upper leg. He shouldn't have run. It's his own fault, Steve thinks while he watches Chin shove the thug into the back of the police car.

Steve turns to go back to the rest of his team on the other side of the large apartment complex. The sudden movement sends another dagger of pain through his middle and the world around him tilts abruptly. Not good.

He manages to catch himself on the hood of a parked pickup truck, arms trembling with the task of holding his bodyweight upright. The metal under his palms is scalding hot, almost burning, but he can't afford to let go. Dropping his head between his shoulders, he tries to bring his screwed up blood pressure back under control. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

Suddenly, a hand lands on his lower back, the only part of his back that isn't covered by his Kevlar vest. Steve jumps. He didn't hear anyone approach.

"Babe, you all right?"

The question sounds muffled to Steve, like he's floating underwater, but he recognizes the voice. He blinks against the white that has started to consume his field of vision and concentrates on the presence next to him. It's familiar and grounding.

Danny.

"Steve, answer me."

The warm hand on his back moves up to his neck. He hears Danny suck in an audible breath.

"Shit, your skin is really clammy. I knew this wasn't a good idea!"

Steve can't help the faint chuckle that bubbles up in his chest. He closes his eyes and listens to Danny ramble about reckless behavior and common sense. A hand slips around Steve's waist and he feels Danny's fingers fumble with the Velcro straps of his TAC vest, before it simply drops from his body and falls to the ground with a dull thud.

"C'mon, sit down."

Trust isn't something Steve gives away lightly. On the contrary. But Steve trusts his partner. One hundred percent. That's why he offers no resistance when Danny slowly lowers him to the ground, back to the pickup truck he has been leaning on. The parked car offers some shade and Steve is glad to be out of the boiling sun for a bit. He bends his right leg and rests his elbow on his knee, head in his hand.

"Here, drink some water. It'll help."

Steve peels his eyes open and squints at his partner who is crouching in front of him. He has no idea where Danny has gotten the chilled water bottle from and, to be honest, he doesn't really care. Steve's hand is trembling slightly when he reaches out to accept the cool drink. "Thanks," he rasps.

While Steve slowly sips the water, Danny grabs his partner's other hand and wraps his fingers around Steve's wrist, fingertips pressed against the inside. He counts.

"Your pulse is racing," Danny mutters after a full minute. His bright blue eyes meet Steve's. "How are you feeling?"

Steve sets the bottle down, resting it against his outstretched left leg. The disconnected feeling to his body is slowly abating and the roaring in his ears has lessened. He's smart enough to know that he's not fine yet, so he's not even going to pretend he is. Danny knows him better than that anyway. He wouldn't buy it.

"Better," Steve replies eventually, voice still a little gravelly. And it's the truth. He's still a little nauseous but the overwhelming vertigo is almost completely gone, as is the white haze that had threatened to make him pass out.

"Good," Danny says and plops down next to his partner, leaning against the side of the truck as well. "Just so you know, I was this close"-he holds his index finger and thumb half an inch apart-"this close to calling an ambulance to take your woozy ass back to the hospital."

Steve snorts. "That's not necessary."

"You sure about that? Because for one moment it looked like you were about to swoon, my friend. Not very manly," Danny teases, bumping shoulders with his partner. Steve rolls his eyes, but a smirk on his lips betrays his fake annoyance. In fact, he takes comfort in the familiar exchange and it eases away some of the remaining tension.

They sit in silence for a few minutes and Steve allows his eyes to slip closed. He presses the heel of his hand against his forehead, trying to get rid of the lingering headache.

A heartbeat passes and then he feels Danny's eyes on him. When his partner speaks, the playful undertone is gone from his voice and in its place is a deep seriousness, "It's only been four weeks, Steve," Danny says quietly. "You almost died one month ago. You're overdoing it. Allow your body time to heal."

"How could I forget?" Steve responds in a thin whisper. His left hand instinctively seeks out the long scar that stretches diagonally across his stomach. It's almost completely healed by now, but it will never fully disappear. "I feel like my body is betraying me," he admits quietly. "I'm lacking strength, speed and endurance. Not to mention that my blood pressure is all messed up because of the meds I need to take all the time…"

Danny puts a hand on Steve's left shoulder and squeezes lightly. "You'll get back to your old self, Steve. It just takes time. You'll get through this. We will get through this. Trust me."

And there it is again. Trust.

Steve looks up and meets Danny's gaze. His light blue eyes show compassion, love, patience and honesty. And strength. And that's when Steve understands… He's not alone in this. His friends are there for him. He's allowed to lean on them and draw strength from them when he doesn't know how to go on. They're his family. His Ohana.

Steve smiles softly. "I do."

A long moment passes between the two friends as they look at each other.

Eventually, Danny sighs and climbs back to his feet. "We should probably get back before they send a search party," he says, only half joking, as he dusts off his dress pants. He holds out a hand for Steve. "Can you get up?"

Steve nods, grasps his partner's outstretched hand and lets himself be pulled to his feet. Danny steadies him with a hand on his elbow until he's gained his balance. "You good?"

"Yeah," Steve answers with a nod.

Danny smiles and bends down to pick up Steve's discarded vest. He slings it over his own shoulder and motions toward the rest of their team who has already gathered around the Camaro. "Let's go," he says and begins to walk.

Steve stops his partner's movement with a hand on his arm. "Wait."

Danny turns, looking expectant and also a little worried. "What?"

Steve's hand lingers on his friend's warm skin. "Thanks, Danny. For everything."

Danny smiles. "Any time, babe."

The End

(I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters.)