Trouble, a hawaii five-0 fanfic

An: I just recently (a couple of days ago) discovered Hawaii Five-0, because even though I've known about the show for years, I've never bothered to watch it. But holy shit. It is so good.

I've only seen the first season (well, I'm in episode 1.21), but I'm in love with the characters - Steve especially. And being the weirdo I am, I can't get enough of seeing him get a little hurt. So here I am, writing a fanfic.

This is whump with little plot because I am tired (thanks to a major case of jet lag, ugh, the only downside to traveling) and because I like it.

I hope you do too!

(Btw, I'm sorry if the formatting is shit. This is hard doing it on mobile.)

It was all bits and pieces, mostly. Fragments of distant memories slowly making their way to his aching head.

A murder, then two. Mutilated so bad it had been impossible to tell the cause of death. There had been internal bleeding and blunt force trauma to the head. Cuts and bruises. Defensive wounds. Signs of struggle - and torture.

Steve groaned as he opened his eyes and saw the sky. It was blurry but it was there, cloudless and blue like it usually was. How he liked it.

Saying his body hurt was the understatement of the year. He was a SEAL, he knew how to handle pain, but the kind of pain that leaves you breathless and unable to think straight, think of anything else than the pain - even he had hard time gathering his thoughts and assessing the situation.

First things first. What happened?

Beginning to lift his upper body up by his elbows, Steve quickly learned that wasn't the smart move. His left shoulder flared up in pain and he crashed back to the grass on his back as it gave underneath him.

"Shit!" Steve hissed, pressing his left arm against his torso and pushing himself upright with his right one. He ignored the spinning and the nausea, closing his eyes just for a moment to force it down.

When he opened them again, he remembered.

Them finding out about three possible next victims. Three possible locations. Danny had taken one, and Chin had taken another with Kono. The furthest one had been left for Steve, and he had jumped on a helicopter.

The remains of said helicopter now lay smoking in front of him, a couple of yards away from him. The shattered windshield faced Steve, the same windshield Steve had crashed out of, probably saving his life, because the strength of the impact had completely destroyed the side of the helicopter Steve had been sitting in. Twisted metal and broken glass now occupied the space that used to hold the steering stick and the seat, and Steve was relieved he was out there and not inside.

At least now he had a chance, even if he was injured.

Suddenly hissing in pain, Steve glanced down. His shirt was practically dripping blood from his right side, under a piece of metal that had lodged itself painfully inside his flesh.

His left arm wasn't much better. Something had cut his shoulder almost completely open, a deep wound running from the front of his shoulder down his arm for three or four inches. It was bleeding bad, but not life threateningly - at least that wound alone wasn't. Whatever hit him probably hadn't cut a major blood vessel.

It was still hard to concentrate. He had crashed, that part was pretty obvious, but why? He was a good pilot, even if he had always preferred water over air, and there was no chance he had just crashed without a solid reason.

"Come on", he groaned to himself, pushing himself to remember. Something was coming back. Hazy, but something…

An explosion. Before he had hit the ground.

He remembered the heat and the sudden pain and fear as he heard all the little buttons and lights on the dashboard go nuts, and the side of the helicopter tearing open and pushing him through the windshield and out into the air before he could even comprehend what had happened. And then pain and a soothing darkness.

Definitely an explosion. Someone had blown up the helicopter.

Shit.

Suddenly he realized he had to move. He had spent minutes just sitting there and thinking, and who knew what kind of welcoming ceremony was on its way to him right now. If someone had shot him down, Steve doubted they'd just leave him be. They'd find him and finish him off, and he couldn't even put on much of a fight in his current state.

Move, move, move, just get up and move, Steve repeated to himself like a mantra, adrenaline finally kicking in.

He pushed himself to his knees. It hurt, the piece of metal in his side shifting as he moved, but he wouldn't let it distract. He needed to move, right now.

Steve got to his shaky feet and almost stumbled over, but steadied himself as he looked around. He was in the middle of nowhere on an almost completely desert small island. There was the sea and the beach maybe a mile or two behind him, the direction he'd come from, and the rainforest and some big hills in front.

Steep downhill to the right and the edge of the forest just a couple of yards away. Uphill to the left with some houses a couple of hundred yards to that direction.

Move, move, move.

Where? He needed a cellphone, or a radio, or a fucking smoke signal, whatever to get in touch with someone.

Just move, get going, move-

"Hey!"

Steve swirled around to the best of his ability at the sudden shout, and saw a man approach from the left, gun raised.

His instincts immediately kicked in, and Steve took a few fast steps to the right and dove down to the downhill, just before the stranger with the gun fired.

The stranger, or the man Steve believed was the murderer, missed Steve but wasted no time charging after him.

Ignoring the pain, Steve scrambled forward and into the forest, hiding behind a tree just before the killer pulled the trigger again. Steve heard the thud of the bullet hitting the tree he was hiding behind and got to his feet just in time to see the man emerge from his left, his finger already squeezing the trigger again.

Steve jumped at the man, his right hand grabbing the gun and twisting it up while he let the weight of his body to bring both of them to the ground.

Thanks to the rush of adrenaline, Steve barely felt a thing as they collided with the ground. He was on top of the man, but the man still had a tight grip of the gun.

Both of them struggled - the man tried to push the gun towards Steve to take a shot that actually hit, and Steve used all of his strength to keep the gun away. The man kicked up to get Steve off of him, failing, and then tried to twist himself free. Steve's left arm protested as he brought it down on the killer's neck and pushed him to the grass.

"Stop fighting", Steve snapped as he finally got a firm grip of the gun and yanked it from the man, "You're under arr-"

The sudden kick - one that landed, hard - knocked Steve off balance just a little, enough for the killer to grab him by the shoulders and push him completely off. His back meeting the ground, Steve instinctively begun to push himself upright, but the killer, uninjured as he was, was faster and brought his elbow down on Steve's already bruised face.

The already hard blow was followed by a second one, and it left Steve disorientated as his broken nose spurted out fresh blood and pain flared in his skull.

"Don't think so", the killer hissed as he climbed to his feet.

Steve wanted to get up, to fight, but all he managed to do was lift up his head before it fell right back down. The ground was spinning underneath him, the same way it did if you went to sleep drunk. Only this time it was painful and it made Steve want to throw up.

And so Steve was forced to just watch as the killer crouched and grabbed the gun from Steve's hand, easily snatching it to himself.

"Don't", Steve groaned, closing his eyes for just a second as a wave of nausea rolled over him like a fucking tsunami. He hated himself for being unable to get up and fight. He just wanted to get up and fight.

The sound of the gun cocking made Steve open his eyes. It was becoming blurry again, seeing double.

He could still see the smirk on the killer's face, though. "Not feeling very good, are you, mister five-o?"

Mentally Steve had already bashed the killer's head in, but he had to settle for a weak grin.

"Never better", Steve forced out, and let his grin fade.

"Well, that's about to change. Let's go", the killer replied and aimed the gun at Steve. "Get up."

Oh, believe me, I would if I could, Steve thought to himself. His eyes fell close. It was so hard to stay awake and even though he hated - no, loathed the idea of being this weak, the idea of the numbness of unconsciousness seemed so good, so welcoming.

His survival instinct, though, kept telling him to stay the fuck awake, because if he blacked out now, who knew if he'd wake up again. Who knew what the killer would do to him.

"Now!" the killer almost shouted, and in his anger, probably, sent his foot crashing down on Steve's side.

The hot flash of pain that shot through Steve's body as the piece of metal shifted in his side was overwhelming, and Steve couldn't hold on for any longer.

He let out an involuntary grunt and allowed the darkness to swallow him.

Pain didn't yank him out of the unconsciousness, no. It was the exact opposite. It was the soothing numbness that carried him out of the darkness and into the reality.

And boy, did it feel good. Steve was almost afraid to open his eyes, fearing that the moment he would the pain would come back and end it. And somehow he didn't want to, either. He was laying on something soft and warm, like the best bed in the world, and he didn't want it to stop.

And so he just kept them shut.

"I know you're awake", a distant voice echoed into his ears. Warning bells went off in Steve's mind, shouting 'getupgetupyou'reindanger' over and over again, and Steve must've shifted or done something because suddenly something stung his neck and the warning bell in his head faded and then silenced completely.

"Shh. Just sleep", the voice continued, and Steve did.

It had been two hours since anybody had heard from Steve, and Danny was growing scared. Even if he'd never admit it out loud, especially in front of Steve, he was, because something bad had happened. Even without any solid evidence - yet -, Danny's gut told him so, and he trusted his gut.

He walked into the office where he knew to find Chin and went to the desk. "Tell me you've got something."

Chin, to Danny's great relief, nodded. "Just got these."

He flicked the board and sent some pictures on the screens on the wall. Satellite footage of the island Steve had gone to - pictures of the wreckage that used to be the helicopter.

"That's the heli?" Danny asked, but already knew the answer. "You see Steve?"

"Unfortunately, nothing solid", Chin replied truthfully and flicked another picture on the screen - thermal picture of the crash site. "But this indicates he's still alive."

Two red splashes on the picture, near the forest.

"We need to get there. Right now", Danny said, eyeing the thermal picture. Two splashes meant two people, which meant that either Steve had been rescued by somebody or he was in deep trouble. And Danny knew better than to assume it was the first option. "Who's the other person?"

"No way of knowing", Chin admitted. "But an educated guess? I think Steve may have met our killer."

The freezing water splashed on his skin and woke him up in a jolt. His eyes swung open and he drew in a sharp breath, beginning to get up only to realize he couldn't.

Not because he was lying down and tied. No. He was already upright, his hands secured above him, hanging by them from the ceiling. Shit.

It was a room - an office, maybe, but he had no idea where. The windows had been covered with black curtains but he could hear the sea, which didn't really help. He could be wherever.

Fucking islands.

"Good morning", the killer said, emerging from behind Steve, and Steve's eyes focused on him. "Slept well?"

"Like a baby", Steve replied, taking in the killer's face. He remembered the guy; he had been watching the first crime scene with a handful of other curious people. Fucking hell. He had been there. Mid thirties, definitely not from Hawaii. The accent was european, but not english - maybe german?

The killer grinned. "Good. Good! Because today, mr. five-0, we're going to have a little chat."

"Why'd you do it?" Steve couldn't help asking. "Killing those people. I can't wrap my head around it."

"Don't bother yourself with it. It's not like you'll live to actually do something with that information", the killer replied. "Although, miracles happen. If you tell me what I need to know and it checks out, you might walk out of here."

"I'm going to get you", Steve said, grinning in his turn.

"We'll see", the killer replied, taking a few steps towards Steve and placing a hand on his side.

That was the moment Steve realized the piece of metal wasn't there anymore - but it still hurt when the killer placed his thumb on the wound and pressed down. Steve suffocated a cry and closed his eyes as pain flared up and down his body, and he'd never felt that vulnerable before.

Danny watched as they got closer to the crash site. He was sitting in a heli operated by a guy he'd never seen before but Chin claimed he knew and trusted, and that was enough for Danny.

The helicopter, that was now in millions of small pieces spread across the grass, was on fire. It seemed like most of the fire had already gone out by itself but it was still going strong. The smoke was grey and thick, and it made it hard to see around the crash site.

"We can land about half a mile from here", the heli driver informed Danny.

Danny nodded. "Just get us down as close as you can."

The man nodded too, and they circled away and to the left towards the houses they could see peeking through the treetop.

"You got something?" Danny asked, walking towards the crash site. He was on the phone with Chin, who'd stayed behind with Kono to find out the identity of the killer.

He was getting close to the remains of the heli.

"We did find something out", Kono's voice spoke into Danny's ear. He was on speaker at their end.

"These kills weren't the guy's first", Chin continued where Kono left off. "There was a murder very similar to these ones a month ago in Miami. They never caught the guy, but they had a strong suspect until he went underground. Aidan Wilkens."

"He killed a man called Paul Richards. He had ties to a local criminal organization in Miami", Kono told.

"So what ties Richards and the criminal organization to Aidan Wilkens?" Danny asked. "Why is he doing this? What's his motive?"

"We don't know. All we know that Paul Richards made five calls to Wilkens the week he died, and the last he was heard of was on his way to Wilkens", Chin replied. "Seems like Wilkens had some shady past. We dug into him and he's been to prison twice. First time for breaking and entering and the second for drug trafficking."

"Wild guess, they were old friends", Kono continues. "The two men Wilkens killed here are still pretty much a mystery. We know that at least other one had criminal connections, but they had nothing to do with drugs."

Danny sighed. He had wished for more. "Okay, well, keep digging 'til you figure it out. I'm at the heli."

And that wasn't a lie - he was. He began to circle around it, looking around himself for any sign of Steve.

"He there?" Chin asked, meaning Steve.

"Don't see him", Danny replied truthfully as something caught is eye, "but his phone's here. It's still mostly intact."

Danny crouched down, picking it up. The screen had cracked but other than that, it was fine.

"He wouldn't have left without it", Chin pointed out.

"Is he okay?" Kono asked, her voice full of worry.

"If anyone can look out for themselves, it's him", Danny reassured Kono but couldn't help but worry himself too. This only meant one thing; Steve hadn't left voluntarily. "I have to go. I'll let you know when I find him."

"We'll call when we have more info. Good luck", Chin told Danny before hanging up.

Danny pocketed his phone as he stared at Steve's. Where the fuck was he?

And then he noticed something else - blood. A lot of it, on the grass a couple of yards away from the heli.

Shit.

He tried his best to fight the nausea and to force down the puke that made its way into his throat. He kept his eyes closed, blocking all the pain as best as he could, and kept it down.

Suddenly something penetrated the bare skin on his aching arm - he'd been hanging from the ceiling quite a while now. Steve immediately recognized it as the needle of a syringe, and opened his eyes just in time to see Wilkens pull it out.

The man lifted up the empty syringe for Steve to see. "You know what this is?"

Steve didn't bother to answer, and Wilkens didn't expect him to.

His arm begun to burn. Not slowly, tho - in a flash, and Steve couldn't help a silent groan.

This seemed to amuse Wilkens and his eyes lit up a little.

"It's gonna hurt like hell in a bit. It's like a laid back neurotoxin, kinda like the toxin you'd find in a bullet ant. And you know those fuckers, don't you? The most painful sting of all animals?" Wilkens tossed the syringe away and it shattered. "Non-lethal in small doses. I don't want to kill you, now do I? But it'll hurt. Just give it a second."

Steve closed his eyes as the first wave of pain suddenly tore through his arm - hot, intense pain, numbing every other sensation he might've felt because holy shit that hurt-

"I see that it's working", Wilkens laughed. "Unfortunately I don't have anything to ease the pain. I have something in case you start seizing, but there's nothing that'll help the pain. Fortunately, though?"

Steve couldn't focus on what the psychopath in front of him was saying. The excruciating pain was growing stronger, something Steve hadn't thought was possible. It was like someone had shot him in the arm, but at the same time the muscle was practically convulsing, sending burning hot waves up and down his shuddering body.

"If you just tell me where you've taken the money, I won't give you more. I promise. And I'll let you down and care for your injuries. Because Steve, I have to admit, that's a lot of blood pouring out of you", Wilkens continued, eyeing the shirtless Steve up and down. "I think that gouging out the piece of metal stuck in you lifted the pressure from a major blood vessel. In other words, it was the only thing keeping you from bleeding out."

"I don't know anything about any fucking money", Steve grunted, opening his eyes for just a second to glare at Wilkens before gasping in pain and pressing them shut again.

"Don't lie", Wilkens said softly and grinned. Not that Steve saw it - he was too busy keeping himself from groaning and crying out, so he kept his eyes closed and tried to focus on anything but the pain. "The money HPD confiscated from Arthur Wells. I need it. Now. So where the fuck is it?"

Wilkens tone was harsher now.

Then there was a moment of silence as Wilkens eyed Steve, waiting for a reply that never came. Couple of seconds, probably, but an eternity for Steve.

"Fine", Wilkens finally said. "Let's give you some more. Maybe you'll talk then."

Steve felt a needle pierce his skin - his other arm, now - and braced himself.

It was a blur of pain. Blur of pain, nausea, tears rolling down his cheek and someone yelling. Maybe it was him. Maybe it wasn't. Steve didn't know, because all he could feel was the pain and the nausea and the unconsciousness lurking right there, waiting. It wouldn't be long. He had endured this for far too long and pushed his body to the limit. He couldn't take it much more.

He could vaguely see Wilkens' fist rushing towards his face before his head snapped back, but the sting from the punch faded into the pain of everything else.

"The money!" Wilkens screamed, hitting again. And again, and again. He was mad - furious, even, for something Steve knew nothing about.

Steve rolled his head back onto his chest and lifted it up a little to look at Wilkens. Instead he saw was the fist, and Steve closed his eyes in anticipation - his head swung back, and this time it hurt.

He couldn't bring himself to lift his head up. It hurt. It was hard, almost impossible, to stay awake - it was like every fiber of his body just wanted to give in to the pain and he hated himself for it but couldn't fight it. Not anymore.

He had had enough.

He let the darkness inch closer, not keeping it at bay anymore - and then suddenly there was a yell full of pain and fear that didn't belong to him.

It was Wilkens.

A blam Steve recognized as a gunshot echoed into the room followed by a thud and then -

"Steve? Oh, Steve, what the hell…"

Danny.

He'd been found.

Steve forced his head up to look at Danny, but was powerless to do so, his head lolling from side to side. He could open his eyes, just a crack, enough to see the blurry chest of Danny's.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, don't worry", Danny's somewhat panicked voice rang into Steve's ears. "We need an evac, right now. I found McGarrett. He's bad, he's really bad."

Help was on its way.

And then darkness.

Danny's heart was racing like he was about to have a heart attack as he stared at Steve's limp, bloody and bruised body. His partner was pale as a sheet, having lost more blood than Danny dared to estimate, because it was a lot.

He pushed his phone into his pocket as he ended the call to Chin.

He grabbed the ropes keeping Steve hanging from the ceiling and swiftly cut through them, holding Steve so he wouldn't just fall. He gently lowered him to the floor and settled beside him.

"Steve. Steve! Come on", Danny pleaded, checking his pulse. It was there. Weak, but it was certainly there. Thank God. "I'll get you out of here, you hear me? I'm not letting you get away that easy. You don't get to do that, not a chance. Come on. Open your eyes."

Simultaneously he began to take off his suit jacket he'd thrown on this morning and pressed it on the wound on Steve's side. It wasn't bleeding that bad anymore, but blood dripped from it and Steve had lost enough of it as it was. Danny wouldn't let him bleed out. Never.

Wilkens lay dead on the floor behind them, and as Danny turned to glance at him to make sure he'd stay down, he couldn't help but want to rip his head off. That guy was a sick monster, a psychopath, a twisted fucker. Death was too good for him. He would've deserved to rot in jail his whole life.

Danny shook his head as he turned to Steve again. "You hear me, babe? You gotta open your eyes. Come on. Just open them."

Gently he placed his free hand on Steve's neck, rubbing softly. His heart was bursting of worry but simultaneously relief. He just wanted-

Steve opened his eyes.

Just a crack, but he definitely opened them, and gasped.

It was enough for Danny. Steve was awake and that was a good sign.

"Hey, hey, you hear me?" Danny asked, keeping himself from overwhelming Steve by yelling or coming too close.

It took a moment for Steve to focus his eyes on Danny, but he got there. A slight grin appeared on his face for a second before it turned into a groan and he shifted, turning his head away in pain.

"It's okay, don't move", Danny immediately jumped in, still trying to soothe his friend by massaging his cheek with his thumb. "I'm keeping you from bleeding out so don't move, Steve. Just stay still. Help's coming."

The apparent wave of pain started to ease and Steve relaxed, closing his eyes but turning his head up again. "'bout time", he silently muttered.

Danny couldn't help a smirk. "You really think I'd leave you behind? As much as I'd love to, I kinda sometimes like you around, babe. Like when you're sleeping."

Amused, a weak grin rose on Steve's lips, and he opened his eyes a little. He opened up his mouth to speak but a sudden cough interrupted him.

"Hey, don't", Danny said, "Don't try to talk. I know you love me. Just hang on 'til the others get here. Should be any second now. Just hang on, you hear me?"

Somewhere during Danny's speech Steve had closed his eyes again, Danny noticed, and he got no reply - not even a smirk or a huff.

"Steve?" Danny asked, worry arising in his chest again. "Steve, come on."

His fingers fumbled to the side of Steve's neck to test for pulse - it was still there.

Thank God.

Danny was pacing around the hospital corridor, his shirt still covered in Steve's blood. He'd washed his hands, but he had had no time to run home and change is shirt. Steve was being operated on by the doctors, and he wanted to be there when there was some news.

They had arrived to the hospital maybe twenty minutes ago, and he knew it'd be a while 'til Steve got out of the surgery or whatever they were doing to him - or woke up. He knew he wouldn't be leaving the hospital for a bit, so he had asked Chin and Kono to look into the whole mess for him. Steve needed him.

Danny had also called Steve's sister, and she was on her way to Hawaii to see him. She'd take the next flight in, which, unfortunately, wasn't 'til five more hours.

One of the scariest calls Danny had ever had to make, because it was so personal.

And he hated being unable to help his friend, but he knew he'd done everything in his power. Didn't make it any easier, though. Steve's heart had stopped once on the flight to the nearest hospital, but the EMT's had started it again while pushing Danny aside, telling him to give them room to work.

Steve had died, for fuck's sake, and all Danny had been able to do was sit and watch.

"You here for McGarrett?"

Danny spun around to face a nurse in her mid twenties and nodded.

"Yeah."

The nurse looked serious. "He suffered a lot of injuries, but we've stabilized him. One of his broken ribs has punctured his lung, so we'll need to take him to a surgery. They're preparing him as we speak."

"Will he be okay?" Danny asked, the most important question of them all. He prayed the answer would be yes.

"He should be", the nurse admitted. "Given the severity of his injuries, it will take a while, but he seems to be a fighter. Not many would've survived what he went through. The main concern right now is the blood loss. We've given him blood, but it'll take weeks before he's fully back to normal. He's broken two ribs and a finger, and suffers a major concussion. There's no sign of internal bleeding in the brains, though, which is fantastic news. There's a little internal bleeding in his stomach, which we will cover in the surgery. His shoulder was dislocated but we popped it back, and the ligaments in his left ankle were torn. There's a lot of bruising and a few minor cuts that will heal on its own, but we had to stitch the wound on his side and the one on his arm. Overall, he's in bad shape, but with enough rest and care he should heal."

Danny felt like screaming - of joy, relief and also pure hatred and despise. Instead of screaming, though, he nodded.

"So he'll live", he more stated than asked, and watched the nurse confirm it with a small nod. "Thank God."

White walls.

That was what Steve saw when he opened his eyes. White walls surrounding him. Those kind of white walls you only saw at hospitals.

He was safe. He'd be okay.

He mustered the strength to grin and then fell right back into the blissful unconsciousness.

The second time he woke up it was dark. A dim light lit the room just a little, so now the walls looked dark grey instead of white.

It was easier to process things now. His mind was clearer - and it didn't hurt. Sure, he was uncomfortable, but whatever pain medication the nurses had given him was working, and it was such an unforgettable feeling. After hours of suffering, being this painless felt divine.

He looked around a little, not really daring to turn his head too much, afraid the pain would come back if he did.

The room was empty. There was a chair to his left but nobody sat in it. The TV was off, and there were like four empty takeout cups of coffee on the table near him.

Someone had definitely watched over him.

Steve closed his eyes again, still exhausted, and that's when the quiet creak of the door echoed out.

Turning his head to the side to see who it was, Steve saw Danny, tiptoeing in, carrying a full takeout cup of coffee.

And when Danny saw Steve, he froze for a second.

"You're awake", Danny said, hurrying to Steve. He laid down the cup of coffee.

"Think so", Steve said, surprised to find his voice almost gone. He cleared his throat. "How long…?"

"Six hours since you got out if surgery", Danny replied, sitting down on the chair. "You were beaten up pretty bad."

"What about the…"

"Wilkens?"

Question rose on Steve's face.

Danny smirked. "Chin and Kono figured him out. Wilkens. We're not sure what he was after, but he's dead now. He did it."

"Money", Steve said. God, he was tired. "He kept asking me about money."

"Did he say something else?" Danny asked.

Steve shook his head no. "Just 'where's the money?'. He… He mentioned HPD. Probably thought I'd know what they do."

"Don't worry about it", Danny sighed. "We'll figure it out. Right now you need to rest, you hear me? Because I need you out there with me, because nobody else is crazy enough to pull off the shit you do. Even if my days will probably be safer while you're here, there's a chance they're also boring."

Steve grinned. "You telling me you need me?"

"No", Danny immediately replied, "I'm not telling you that. I need you out there. There's a difference, babe."

"Sure", Steve kind of laughed.

Silence fell on them for a moment as Steve turned his head away and Danny wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm happy you're here", Danny finally admitted, his voice silent. "You scared the crap out of us."

"Me too", Steve sighed, turning back to Danny. "You're not getting rid of me that easy. Because who'll watch your six if I'm gone?"

"Are you saying I need backup? Because-"

"I'm totally saying you need backup."

"-if I remember correctly, it was me who rescued your ass from a psychotic serial killer."

"I had it under control."

"Keep telling yourself that. Just, sure, believe in that."

"Care to remind me how many times I've saved you?"

"That's not the same, and-"

"It is."

"-you know it. It's not."

"It is!"

"Just go back to sleep, Steve. You're much more fun when you're sleeping."

Steve grinned, and nodded. "Fine. Just because you asked so nicely." He turned his head away and closed his eyes. He was dead tired.

Danny watched as Steve relaxed on the bed.

There was a moment of silence as Danny grabbed his coffee and took a sip, hissing a little as it burned his tongue.

"Thanks", Steve suddenly spoke, and Danny couldn't help a smirk.

The doctor left the room, walking to Danny, who was waiting outside it in the corridor.

"He's doing a lot better", the doctor Danny recognized as Laura Jenkins said, smiling. "I think he's good to go home at the end of the week."

Danny nodded. It had been a week and a half since the whole ordeal, so it was about the damn time. "So he's fine?"

"I wouldn't go as far as saying he's fine, but he's getting there", Laura said. "He'll need to rest for at least a couple more weeks, preferably more since his ribs need time to properly heal. His ankle won't be fine for few weeks, but he can move around as much as he is able to. I suggest using crutches, because laying any weight on the twisted ankle will be painful."

"Thanks, I'll try and make him use them", Danny (half) joked, and Laura smiled. She was pretty when she smiled, Danny noticed. "Thank you."

"You can see him if you want, but all visitors must leave in half an hour", Laura mentioned, beginning to walk off.

Danny headed for the door and walked in, finding Steve sitting up on the edge of the bed, shirtless.

Colorful bruises decorated his whole torso, pretty much. It was an awful sight.

"Hey", Danny said, closing the door behind himself. "How you feeling?"

"Never better", Steve laughed. "Shouldn't you be with your kid?"

"It's Tuesday", Danny pointed out. "I only see her on weekends. What's up?"

"Right", Steve said, beginning to lie back down. It was clear it hurt to move, even if Steve hid it pretty well. What gave it away were his stiff movements. "It's hard to keep track of the day in here."

Danny sat down onto the chair next to Steve's bed.

"You find something?" Steve continued, watching Danny.

By 'something' Steve meant anything regarding why Wilkens had done what he did. It had been a slow research, but he finally had something.

"Actually, I do", Danny said and saw Steve's eyes light up a little. "HPD finally agreed to let me go through their case files and I understood why they were so hesitant. The guy Wilkens killed in Miami only used the drug business to hide a more sinister business, human smuggling. And they kinda go hand in hand anyways. Well, the organization was in charge of smuggling this woman to the States, Wilkens' mother. She was terminally ill and Wilkens wanted the best treatment for her, only, she couldn't get a visa or a residence permit", Danny continued explaining.

"So Wilkens had her smuggled her in?" Steve asked.

Danny nodded. "Or that was the idea. He paid the guy almost three million dollars to smuggle his mom and to get her a new identity so she'd get the treatment. Only, on the way there, the mother died and the guy tried to keep the money. The two guys he killed here were a part of the business, and the other one actually worked at the bank where they kept their money. Where they put the three million. Or, would've put, if the border control hadn't seized it and sent to HPD to be investigated."

"Okay, so that's why he kept asking me about the money. He wanted it back. For what?" Steve asked. He wanted to know why he had been tortured - what had been so important to Wilkens he was willing to kill for it.

"No way to be sure. Revenge, maybe", Danny shrugged. "Chin got to see his bank details and the three million he gave for his mom was all he had. If he wanted to get revenge and tear the world apart, he would've needed money. The organization is big, and I mean like seriously huge. People across the world."

Steve nodded, letting his head fall on the pillow. "We going after them?"

"I don't think we have the jurisdiction", Danny laughed. "But I did tip off the Interpol on what we found. They told me they've been following their moves for a while now. Seemed like they even have a couple of undercover agents in the field with them."

"Good", was all Steve could say. "Good."

The day Steve got back to work started well. His ankle didn't hurt when he woke up, and he could even carefully stretch it, something he hadn't been able to do in weeks. He still couldn't jump, and running got painful after about ten steps, but he was good enough to go back to work.

The sun was shining on a bright blue sky when he hopped out of his car in front of the Five-0 headquarters and headed inside. It was a hot day, but he was feeling great.

It had been seven weeks since the whole ordeal. Seven long weeks full of pain and discomfort but slowly he'd gotten better. Some days he had accidentally banged his foot against something or hit his side, resulting in a lot of pain and ache for hours, but even that had mostly stopped.

He was grateful, happy and excited.

Walking through the front doors into the main room of the headquarters, Kono was the first one to greet him.

"Steve!" she cried out, walking to him and pulling him into a hug. "Oh, we've missed having you here. I'm glad you're back."

"Missed you too", Steve grinned, parting from the hug.

"Speak for yourself, Kono", a familiar voice echoed out from behind them. Steve turned to see the grinning Danny. "You do realize this is officially the end of our peace and quiet? And the safety?"

Danny walked in with Chin following right behind.

"I know you missed me", Steve replied.

"I did", Danny answered, the grin unwavering on his lips.

"Good to see you here, bro", Chin said on his turn, stopping in front of Steve. "You got us worried for a moment there."

"Yeah, takes more than that to kill me", Steve shrugged, playful look in his eyes.

Danny snorted. "Well, technically you did die for a moment there", he said, getting a laugh from Steve. "For real. You see the light? Probably the flames of hell for you, but light's a light, right?"

"Come on, that's just cruel", Kono laughed.

Steve grinned, shaking his head a little. "Come on. We got work to do, right? Get me up to speed."

Kono nodded, walking to the table and flicking a picture of a body on the screen. Their newest victim who looks like she drowned - if it wasn't for the bullet hole in her chest.

Watching Kono explain the situation to Steve, Danny took a step back and just enjoyed having everyone around again.

End.