AN: Special Thanks to Julie Bellon for beta-ing! How awesome is it that a novelist took time to beta my fic? Julie, girl, you are the best! HUGS! Buy Julie's novels. Visit her blog, you won't be sorry! ldswritermom dot blogspot dot com
This one's for my McRoller girls, all of you, because you "get me".
POX
Hilton Hawaiian Village, Thursday 9:30 p.m.
"'Night, guys. Good work." Steve nodded to his team as they walked toward the parking lot of the Hilton. They'd been decompressing over drinks and food after wrapping a grueling case that included thirty six hours of no sleep. They actually had Friday off, unless a situation came up.
"Night, Boss. Get some sleep, you look beat."
"Worse than the rest of you?" Steve noted the dark circles on her pretty face and how her shoulders slumped slightly from fatigue.
"Well, yeah. You look kinda pale. Rest a little."
"I'm fine, Kono." Steve was curious at her concern. It'd been a rough case, and they all looked a little worse for wear, even after stopping at HQ to shower and change before dinner.
Danny snorted. "Y'know what, SuperSEAL? She's being polite, 'cause, actually, you look like shit." He stopped Steve's retort with a raised hand. "Seriously, man, get outta here. Go home. Cath, make sure he skips his thousand-mile swim at 4 a.m. huh?"
Catherine's smile at Danny's sarcasm-veiled concern resulted in him giving her a quick hug as they headed toward their cars. "C'mon, Chin, I'll drop you off at work so you can get your bike."
"Thanks, Brah, see you guys Monday." Chin chuckled at Steve's look as they followed Kono out to the lot.
Still puzzling at Kono and Danny's comments when they reached Catherine's Corvette, Steve automatically reached for her keys. "I'll drive, Cath."
"No. No you won't." She playfully swatted his hand away, going around to the driver's side. "You haven't slept two hours in two days. Get in."
"Jeez, okay. But I'm good."
Startled at the ease with which he agreed, she glanced at him over the roof of the car, suddenly serious. "Hey, are you okay? Really?"
They climbed in and he nodded, his signature smirk in place. "Let's go home and I'll prove it to you." Leaning over to kiss her, he murmured "all night" against her lips.
"You're on, Commander."
When he winced and pinched the bridge of his nose, she reached for her purse and fished out two Tylenol. "Here. For that headache you don't have."
Steve rolled his eyes and swallowed the pills, once again amazed by how well she knew him. He droped another quick kiss on her lips before leaning back in the seat. "Thanks."
10:00 p.m.
"So glad to be home." Catherine sighed upon entering the foyer. She stopped to lean her forehead against Steve's for a brief moment.
He set the alarm and turned back quickly to snake his free arm around her waist, his hand slipping under the bottom of her T-shirt as he guided her toward the steps.
Once upstairs, she kissed him in the bedroom doorway, said, "give me a minute," and headed for the bathroom.
"'Kay." His response was muffled by the shirt he was pulling over his head.
By the time she reentered the bedroom less than five minutes later, Steve was sprawled on his back, fast asleep. His clothes and boots were in a pile on the floor. She shook her head thinking how the smile that after all these years still made her stomach flip a little, didn't fully reach Steve's eyes all evening. He was far more tired than he'd ever let on.
"Not proving anything tonight, are we, Commander?" she whispered.
It was very unlike Steve to fall asleep on her, let alone leave his clothes tossed around, unless of course, she'd helped remove them in a hasty manner. Watching him shift and mumble before relaxing in deeper sleep, she picked up the button-down, T-shirt and cargoes as she reflected on the case they'd just wrapped and why it had all of them fried.
Nearly a hundred illegal immigrants - mostly children - had been saved from human traffickers. Catherine was dead on her feet as well, but even after a firefight, Steve and Danny took the emotional brunt of it.
They'd sat with dozens of frightened children until Children's Services arrived, refusing to leave them with just the overwhelmingly busy FBI and DOD agents on the scene. They'd argued with Grover that it was because Steve spoke Mandarin and Danny was 'great with kids', but Catherine knew better. Neither man would leave before the kids were in safe hands.
The partners sat for nearly twelve hours while suffering from adrenaline dump, trying to soothe children who'd been through an ordeal that would give any adult nightmares. That was followed by two full days of wrapping up with the FBI, DOD and Interpol, before they'd finally swung by HQ to clean up, gone out for food and drinks at the Hilton and headed home to crash.
Catherine sighed, remembering the level of patience and kindness Steve had exhibited while interacting quietly with two girls Grace's age as he'd reassured them that the CPS workers wouldn't hurt them. It tore at her to see dismay darken his handsome features as the older child had clung to him, explaining their ordeal. The look of sorrow he gave Catherine as he pressed his business card into the hand of the youngsters' sobbing mother, a terrified young woman of no more than twenty five herself, had raised a lump in her throat.
Her heart full, Catherine gazed at Steve's sleeping face for another second before she undressed, crawled in beside him, and placed a soft kiss on his shoulder. Minutes later, she, too, was asleep.
3:15 a.m.
Catherine stirred, feeling uncomfortably warm and kicked off the light blanket which Steve promptly drew up around himself, shivering in his sleep. Coming more fully awake, she realized she was warm because Steve was pressed against her back, positively emanating heat.
"Steve?" Not getting a response, she placed a hand on his face. "Steve…"
"G'back t'sleep, s'early."
"Steve, wake up. You've got a fever."
" 'm fine." He mumbled, trying to roll away from her but she sat up and leaned over him.
"Steve!"
"What?" He looked at her blearily.
"You're burning up, do you feel sick?"
"'m good."
"Like hell, you're good." she moved her hand to his forehead. "God, you're like a furnace." Concerned she was sitting bolt upright, and her voice had a worried edge. "How sick do you feel?"
"I'm fin…" He stopped at her look.
"It's me, McGarrett, so no bullshit. The truth, please."
He met her eyes. "I've got the chills. My head hurts. Okay?"
Her voice gentled at his reluctant admission. "Okay. Thank you."
"But I just need some sleep, I'll be fine."
She sighed at the short lived victory. "How long have you had the headache?"
Clearly resigned to the fact that Catherine was not going to let him sleep without getting some more answers, he pushed himself up against the pillows. "A couple of days."
"A couple of days?"
"Yeah. Two, three, maybe."
"Steve…" She studied him for a second, frowning in the dim light, and ran her hand over the exposed skin of his chest. Grimacing slightly at what she felt. He was too hot, and while a fever concerned her, the bumps under her fingers worried her more.
Wondering exactly what was going on, she reached across for the lamp.
"…'s bright." He winced.
When she calmly masked her worry and moved to pull down the blanket for a better look, Steve grabbed her wrist, his gaze adorably sheepish. "Cath, I feel like crap, I don't think I …"
"Wow. Now I know you're sick, but I wasn't suggest…" she shook her head at the man who hadn't let being hit by a speeding car stop him from very enthusiastically making up for their missed Valentine's Day. "Umm … did you ever have the chicken pox?"
"The what?"
"Look." She nodded at his chest.
Yanking the blanket aside, he glanced down to see what Catherine felt; raised, red bumps covering his chest and abs. "Holy shit."
"That" she pointed, raising an eyebrow, "looks like chicken pox. You never had them as a kid?"
"No! Hell, no. I never get sick, you know that."
"You never admit you're sick." She said, gently. Sadness for the independent kid who felt he had no one to tell when he felt ill, tugged at her heart. Steve's traumatic teenage years had formed that particular characteristic. Being a SEAL had merely cemented it.
"Whatever. Mary had them. I remember my folks were shocked when I didn't catch them." Shaking his head he repeated, "holy shit." Then his brow furrowed in concern for her. "You've had 'em, right? If not, you've gotta get out of here. Cath, you'll…"
"Relax, I'm not going anywhere."
She slid out of bed, pulling on his discarded shirt and he heard water running in the bathroom. Upon her return, she handed him two Advil and water which he took without a fuss, another testament to the fact he was feeling worse that he'd initially let on. He sank back down.
"I've had them." She reassured him. "Besides, they're contagious before they show, so you've already …ahem... exposed me." She smirked. "Repeatedly."
Steve returned a half smile until a cold, wet cloth landed on his chest. "Jesus, Catherine!"
"We need to keep the fever in check. Put that on your head." She reached for her phone.
"Who're you calling?"
"I'm googling chicken pox, unless you'd prefer I call ...oh, I don't know … Doris, and…"
He cocked an eyebrow "Seriously? You're seriously gonna finish that sentence?"
She giggled. "Of course not. C'mon. Lie back down. You're going to feel worse before you feel better. I'm going to call Max, actually. It says here an antiviral will help. He can write a prescription. It also says you'll be light sensitive." Switching off the bedside lamp, she crawled back in bed beside him, grabbing the balled up cloth from his hand and smoothing it over his forehead and eyes. "We'll get some meds into you as soon as I can reach Max."
"Good. I'll be fine by Monday."
"Nope. Sorry, you're down for a week, at least."
"Cath, I've taken less time off for a gunshot wound, no way in hell am I taking a week…" He moved to sit up, but her hand on his chest stopped him.
"Gunshot wounds aren't contagious. You can't go out. Not until the rash is scabbed over. You'll spread it. I'm going to go grab you some water and juice." She crossed the room, stopping in the doorway. "Relax, Steve, please?"
"Hmpf." He gave in and turned over, looking for all the world like a disgruntled little boy, but within a minute he was asleep.
Catherine resumed her trek to the kitchen, while placing the call to Max.
7:00 a.m. Friday
"Steve? Wake up."
"Whatsamatter?"
"Max is here, he brought meds for you. Chicken pox, remember?" She held out a pill bottle and a glass of water. "Think you could eat something?"
"Commander. How are you feeling?"
Catherine watched him register the wrong-on-so-many-levels fact that Max Bergman was in his bedroom standing next to his girlfriend and that they were both staring at him. She smiled encouragingly as he cracked open an eye. "No. No food, thanks, and I feel like shit. Aren't chicken pox supposed to itch? Why's it feel like I'm being burned by cigarettes?"
"That's because it's nerve pain, Commander. When …ahem… older people contract the varicella virus the pain is more like the type experienced when one has shingles. Patients can experience pain akin to burning, pinpricks, or sudden shocks of electricity, which can be particularly severe."
"You don't say, Max?" He ground out.
"Steve…" Catherine's voice caught briefly. She vividly remembered the marks that took months to fade. She knew he had firsthand knowledge of exactly how severe electrical shock pain could be.
Catching her tone, his voice softened, even as his skin burned like fire. "Cath, it's not that bad, really. I'm good. Here, gimme the pills, and Max, thanks."
"You are quite welcome, Commander. Take the antivirals, and ibuprofen for fever and pain. Catherine, call if you need me. If he starts to cough, especially." He turned to Steve. "We don't want you developing varicella pneumonia."
"Great." Steve swallowed the pills and flopped back down with a disgusted sigh. That's all he needed, something to cause more time away from work.
Catherine walked Max out. "Thank you again, Max, really."
"No problem. I'm sure the commander contracted them from one of the children he and Detective Williams were comforting a few days ago. I will contact CPS and inform them that they will need to quarantine the youngsters for the next 10 days, as they wouldn't have been vaccinated. Please, call if you need to, and good luck keeping the Commander off his feet for the next several days."
With that, Max took his leave and Catherine went back upstairs, exhausted but relieved he had a treatable case of chicken pox. She'd known of two seemingly healthy SEALs suddenly coming down with conditions from a dormant virus they'd been exposed to on a mission. When she'd first discovered Steve's fever and felt the skin rash, those circumstances had flashed through her mind.
As she entered the room, he was sitting up, looking at her with slightly glassy eyes while fumbling in the bedside table. "Cath?"
"Yes?" She couldn't hold back a smile because a sick, spotted, cranky Steve McGarrett looked, well, adorable.
"Where is my weapon?"
"I locked it up because Danny's coming over with Grace."
"Oh, my God, you called Danny?"
"No. Danny called me, because you didn't answer your cell. Steve, I had to tell him. You may be 'off', but you're all on call. He's in charge if you're sick, how could I not tell him?"
"You realize I'll never hear the end of this?"
"Of being sick?" She moved to join him on the bed, reaching out to feel his forehead.
"Of having chicken pox, like a ten year old."
Another barely suppressed smile. "Steve …"
"Don't 'Steve' me. He's gonna make my life hell, and … wait … Gracie's coming? Is that safe?"
"Grace had the vaccine and even had a mild case of chicken pox, so she's fine, and it's her week with Danny. She was positively squealing when she heard her Uncle Steve was sick. She couldn't wait to help you. If Danny didn't agree to let her come along, she may have actually imploded. They're just stopping by to drop off some groceries and stuff. Now, you, finish this." She handed him the juice she'd brought up earlier. "Then sleep."
"Was sleepin'" he mumbled, downing the juice while Catherine settled next to him, sitting up against the headboard with a magazine. Within minutes, he was asleep, his arm across her lap, head resting against her hip, comforted by the circles she was gently tracing through the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
Noon
"Uncle Steve … wow you look bad. Um, I … I mean … I'm sorry you're sick." Grace stopped short when she realized her favorite uncle was sleeping. His neck and face were dotted with the angry looking rash.
"Grace." Danny held out a hand, stopping her just inside the doorway. "I know you want to help and I'm sure Uncle Steve will be really happy to see you when he wakes up, but why don't you go downstairs and watch some TV while I help Auntie Catherine in here a little bit, okay?"
'But I wanna help Uncle Steve, Danno."
"You know what, Grace? It'd be a big help if you could make us some sandwiches. Think you could do that?" Catherine said, placing a hand on her shoulder and guiding her into the hall.
"Okay." Happy for the task, she runs down the stairs.
Danny studied Steve, his snarky comment dying, and turned to Catherine. "He looks out of it. You should've called, hon. I'd have been here sooner."
"I know, but he was doing okay and the fever was better. It's just since you said you were coming over with groceries that it's gone up again. It's 103. I keep dosing him with Advil but Max said I should get him in a cool shower if it doesn't break. He is kind of out of it and pretty much dead weight. Can you just help me get him into the bathroom?"
"You got it. Let's go." Danny crossed the room, "C'mon Babe, up and at 'em."
"Danno?" Steve's bloodshot eyes settled on his best friend and girlfriend hovering over him. "Leave m'lone, 'm 'kay."
"Bullshit. Let's get that fever down, partner. Gracie had chicken pox, the first 24 hours are the worst, and … ugh, Jeez, what the hell do you weigh?"
"Shu'p, Danno."
Danny got him to his feet while Catherine grabbed a change of clothes for her and Steve. As he walked him to the bathroom.
"You okay from here?" Danny asked as she turned on the shower.
"G'way 'm fine."
"Not asking you, Steven."
"We're good, thanks, Danny. I can get him under the water." Her helping Steve was one thing; but he'd be less than happy if Commander 'I'm fine, it's only a 103 degree fever' had to be dragged into the shower by his partner.
Danny backed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him, before Catherine striped Steve and dragged him under the spray.
"Danno!?" Grace arrives with the tray of sandwiches she'd proudly made.
"Whoa, Monkey, that looks delicious."
"Thank you!" She beamed. "Is Uncle Steve worse? Why were you all in the bathroom? Is he throwing up?" She wrinkled her nose. Grace hated to be sick to her stomach, almost as much as her dad did.
"No, he's okay. He was a little wobbly from the fever so he needed some help getting to the shower to cool off. As soon as he does, I think he'll be ready to eat one of these great sandwic…"
"Shit!" Steve's voice cut through the bathroom door in obvious reaction to the cool water hitting his feverish skin.
As Grace giggled at her uncle's language, Danny was thankful it wasn't a worse expletive. "He's sick, Babe, he gets a pass on the swear jar today." Let's go downstairs and make some lemonade to go with your fabulous lunch, okay?" He led his daughter out of the room.
In the bathroom, Steve was suddenly alert and trying to reach around Catherine to shut the water.
"Steve! Leave it! Don't fight me or we're both gonna fall." Catherine braced herself against the wall, guiding him back under the spray.
"It's damn cold!"
"It's cool." She smiled softly. "Your fever was 103, and .. woah there, sailor." He swayed a little and she steadied him. "You just need to stay put a minute to get your body temp down."
"This sucks."
"Grace is out there."
"Okay, this stinks, Cath."
"Not exactly the most fun I've had in a shower with you either, Commander." She reached back, adjusting the water, and placed a hand on his forehead. "See, you're cooler already. Now, can you finish up if I get out, or do you need help?"
Catherine could see his eyes clearing and running over her, registering her soaking tank and shorts.
"You got in the shower fully dressed? I was that out of it? Cath, thank you, I'm good. Dry off." When she looked skeptical he kissed her lightly to reassure her. "Really."
She decided he was steady enough and stepped out of the stall while he showered but stood close just in case. A minute later, he was done and they were both in dry clothes when she cracked open the bathroom door and called Danny.
"Right here!' Danny put down the pitcher of lemonade he was carrying up from the kitchen and offered a hand to his much more alert, but slow moving best friend, who waved it away. "Okay, be that way. But if you fall, I am not picking your overgrown, 3,000 calorie-a-day, exercise freak butt up off the floor!"
"Danno! That's not nice, Uncle Steve's sick." Grace admonished, knowing her two favorite men in the world were never serious when they bickered.
Danny and Grace pulled chairs up to the side of the bed. She passed Steve a sandwich, watching him intently with crossed arms and an expression that Catherine decided could only be described as one of Danny's while her uncle picked at his food. He managed half a sandwich, some lemonade and a smile for his niece.
"We brought you groceries and I made lunch, Uncle Steve."
"Thanks, Gracie, you did a great job."
"You're welcome. Oh, here." Grace handed him his phone.
"Monkey, why do you have Uncle Steve's phone?"
" 'Cause it rang when you were helping him. You need to call the Governor; he said it's a case but not an emergency. I told him you were sick. Uncle Chin called, too."
Steve dialed Denning, placing the phone on speaker. "Governor, we're on speaker with with Detective Williams, Sir."
"Commander, Detective. I spoke to Detective Williams' daughter. She tells me you're ill."
"I'll be fine, Sir."
"You will remain at home until you are no longer contagious, Commander. I do not need half the Palace staff infected with chicken pox, understood? Detective Williams, we have a situation to discuss, take me off speaker." Steve huffed in frustration and Grace grinned.
Danny indicated 'Yes' to Steve's mouthed 'caught a case?' as he gathered the remains of lunch, switching off the phone and tossing it back to Steve.
"Danny, leave that."
"I've got it, Cath. We put a ton of food in the fridge, and there's juice, too. Don't let him drive you too crazy." He turned toward Grace. "Sorry, Monkey, I need to go to work. I'll get Mom to pick you up, okay?"
"No! Danno, it's your week, and I can help here." she swiveled to face Catherine. "Can't I?"
"Monkey, Uncle Steve needs to rest."
"Please, Danno?"
"Danny, it's fine. Leave her with us."
"Cath, you've got your hands full already." Danny gestured toward Steve.
"Hey, Danny?" Steve called.
"Yeah?"
He mouthed 'bite me' so Grace didn't hear.
"Feeling better enough to be a pain in the …" he glanced at his daughter "… butt, Steven?
Okay, babe, you can stay and help, but listen to Catherine, promise?"
"Yes!" She hugged her dad and nodded vigorously.
"Update me, Danny!" Steve yelled as his partner left the room.
"No working!" Danny and Grace said together, while she walked him to the door.
Smiling at Gracie's 'orders' Steve called Chin.
"You've got chicken pox? You okay?"
"Yeah, Chin. I'm good. You're on speaker. I need you to send the Krebbs file to Danny's phone and send a copy to me."
"No problem, but Steve, you might want to talk to Grace about answering your cell, Brah."
"What are you talkin' about?" Steve glanced at Catherine.
"Well, she may or may not have mentioned that Uncle Steve was in the shower … with Auntie Catherine … and Danno …"
Catherine lost it, collapsing in laughter as Steve grimaced at her. "Jeez."
"Just sayin'. If Grover got hold…"
"Chin?"
"Yeah?"
"I'd tell you my thoughts on that but Gracie's here…" He hung up to Chin's laughter.
Next morning
After another all-nighter and a solved case, Danny let himself in with the spare key Steve gave him for emergencies. Turning off the alarm he entered the quiet house to find a sight that brought a smile to his tired features.
His fifty-five-pound, eleven-year-old daughter was standing with a finger to her lips, guarding the 6 foot-plus, BAMF Navy SEAL and his kick-ass girlfriend, who were fast asleep in front of the TV, the dreaded Notebook flashing unseen on the screen. Danny barked a laugh, snapping a photo with his cell and Catherine jumped to attention.
"Danny! God, you scared me. Grace, why didn't you wake me, Sweetheart?"
"You only fell asleep like a second ago. You looked really tired, and I slept all night in Mary's room. I was watching the movie, anyway." She walked over to hug her dad, tilting her face up to his. "We couldn't get Uncle Steve to stay upstairs anymore, so I told him how when I had the chicken pox, we watched The Little Mermaid and I got to stay on the sofa. Tell him how I listened and was a good patient, so I got better faster."
"You're a good nurse, Monkey. Looks like Uncle Steve's better?" He raised an eyebrow at Catherine.
"Yeah, he is." She nodded. "Fever's down to 100 and he's eating. He's just got to wait out the rest, until he scabs over. God knows he's not going to be easy to keep inside."
"He's right here and he can hear you both." Steve growled from the sofa.
"Well, hello, Sunshine. Welcome back."
Grace giggled at her dad's teasing, even if her Uncle Steve's not quite amused.
"Grace, say goodbye, Babe. Danno needs to go home and crash."
"Bye." Grace hugged Catherine and blew a kiss to Steve before heading toward the door. "Feel better."
"Thanks Gracie, you're a great nurse."
"You're welcome, Uncle Steve. Be good, no scratching!" She waved.
Catherine smiled. "Thanks, guys. Grace, you were a big help, Hon."
His blue eyes twinkling, Danny said, "I'm going to take my very beautiful, very caring child home now. So, Cath, if you need anything, like … I don't know … a tranquilizer gun, call me." While herding Grace outside to the sound of Catherine's laughter, he turned at the doorway and added, "Steve?"
"What?"
Danny reached back in and draped an arm over Catherine's shoulder, giving her a quick hug. "I was right, you know. Best thing, ever, partner, best thing."
Catherine beamed and planted a kiss on Danny's cheek. Not getting the exact reference, but happy Danny reciprocated her feeling that he's family.
Steve, feeling better, smiled at his best friend and girlfriend, "When you're right, you're right, Danny."
End thanks for reading!
The POX story was based on real events. I had the chicken pox at age 30. There are no words to describe how much they suck when you are an adult. That said, Not McG also had them a few years later while on TAD in Keflavik, Iceland, also not a good scenario. The first 24 hours are hell on wheels, and it took 6 days before they scabbed over.