Summary: Just a little extra for the season 5 premiere.

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine

Thanks to Cokie for the quick job on this one.

5.01 - The Comforts of Home

Steve wearily watched the car door slide shut. At least Jerry's mom's van was comfortable and had allowed him to sit without his bum leg hurting too much while sitting in an uncomfortable car.

He waved at Jerry and then slowly made his way up the driveway. His leg didn't hurt that much; the drugs they had given him at the ER were still doing a pretty good job. But Steve knew that wouldn't last for long and that soon, the torn muscles would hurt like a bitch.

Thankfully there wasn't that much damage; no bone damage and no nicked arteries. Mainly just some shredded muscles which would need a couple of weeks to heal. That is, if he kept his leg elevated and his weight off it for a while, as the doctor has recommended.

Lying down with his leg propped up sounded like a really good idea right now. He felt a little lightheaded; probably from not eating much and from blood loss.

Steve chuckled thinking back to when Danny came to check on him after he had caught his guy.

He had just slowly slid down against the surfboards, not being able to remain standing. He still had his gun trained on Lawrence Turner who was writhing on the ground, but his vision was graying, and Steve was afraid he might pass out.

The belt around his thigh had loosened and he was bleeding again. He watched the precious blood slowly soaking his pant leg and collecting in a puddle on the ground beneath. But Steve was too dazed to do anything about it, besides he had his hands full with keeping his gun up.

"Steve! Hey, buddy, you alright?" Steve heard his partner calling out and felt a hand on his shoulder which made him look up.

"Don't feel so good," Steve mumbled and finally let his arm with the gun drop into his lap.

"Steve! Stay with me, come on, no sleeping," Danny urged him.

"No' sleepin'," Steve slurred before he felt Danny's hands on him, guiding him to lie down.

Steve hissed in pain when Danny raised his legs and pushed a box under them. He closed his eyes and snapped them back open when his friend gently slapped him.

"Stay awake, babe. You with me?"

"Yeah."

"Keep that up, OK? I'll check on Turner but I'll be right back with you. Ah, shit, what did you do?"

"Argh," Steve called out when Danny tightened the belt around his thigh again.

He tried to grab for his leg, but his hand was pushed away by Danny. "Don't touch it. You're bleeding all over the ground. Just stay put, alright?"

" 'K."

Danny had made good on his promise and had been back next to him just a couple of minutes later, right before the paramedics had arrived. Shortly after, both he and Turner were loaded into separate vehicles and were on their way to the ER.

Steve slid his key into the lock and pushed open the door and hobbled inside his house. He longingly looked at the upper floor; his bed was calling him, but he knew he wouldn't make it up the stairs. Not right now.

He put the food containers on the table next to the couch and slowly sat down. He lay his crutches on the floor and leaned back. The events of the day were slowly catching up with him. The adrenaline rush from earlier had left him long ago, and the second wind, compliments of the drugs they had given him was also fading.

Steve slowly slid sideways and managed to get his bum leg up onto the couch. He breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes.

That was when it hit him. He was alone. No Catherine to take care of him. No gentle hands making the pain easier to handle. No Catherine to talk to about the events of the day.

But the worst was he couldn't make sure she was OK either. He knew she would take care of him, as he did of her. But right now, right this time, neither of them could do anything. And if by any chance they would text or talk on the phone, neither of them would mention any injuries so not to worry the other.

This really sucked. Steve choked up and swallowed noisily. He wasn't sure if it was from emotion or from the drugs, but suddenly he felt nauseous. Bile was rising fast and he sat up with a groan, not sure if he'd made it to the bathroom in time.

There was no time to use the crutches, so he went without them and made it barely in time before he lost his stomach's contents into the toilet bowl.

"Fuck, that hurts," Steve grumbled as he kneeled on the floor.

His leg was not happy with him. Hobbling without the crutches had gotten him to the bathroom in time, but had also awakened a fierce pain in his injured leg.

Steve made his way back onto his feet, flushed the toilet and hobbled over to the sink. He looked into the mirror, and was surprised that aside from a light sheen of sweat he didn't look like death warmed over. He felt it, but he didn't look it.

"Whatever," he mumbled and splashed water onto his face.

The sudden nausea had abated somewhat, but he still felt a little queasy. Maybe this was the remands from sitting in the back of the van. Steve had to grin at that. He knew Danny… and probably the therapist also, didn't believe him this morning when he said he got car sick when not driving.

It wasn't a lie. Not really. He didn't get sick to the point of actual puking, but he did get queasy and would feel unwell. He'd been like that since he was a kid. Yes, he knew he liked to be in control, but that was only part of it.

Steve looked down at his now throbbing leg and slowly made his way out of the bathroom. It hurt to put weight on the leg and he was glad when he sat back down on the couch.

He felt drained and exhausted. It had been a demanding day, and even though it was still early, Steve was sure if he lay back down he would fall asleep. Thinking about it, he decided that wasn't such a bad idea.

Steve again slowly slid sideways and position his leg in a way that was comfortable. There were a few red dots on the crisp bandage, but he was sure the bleeding was minimal. No need to worry about it.

When he finally lay in the right position a light shiver went through him and he cursed not to have thought about a blanket. But he would not get up again to get one. It wasn't cold, so he would be fine.

Steve closed his eyes and tried to ignore the still throbbing leg. He concentrated on the beating of his heart and tried to slow it down. It only took a couple of minutes for him to fall asleep. Still shivering and groaning every time he moved.

H50 - H50 - H50

Lou Grover turned off the engine and wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do. But he felt like he needed to check on his friend. He knew Steve still struggled with Catherine's absence, even though he never let on about it while at work.

And now injured, probably not feeling so good, the empty house would hit him hard. They had talked quite often after Steve had opened up about his struggle with the death of Freddie hanging over him. Lou had been amazed to learn that Steve had gone to group therapy. Something Lou thought was a brave step, to seek professional help.

Grover knocked on the door and listened to the silence behind it. After a moment he tried the door knob and was surprised when the door opened.

He went into the house and was about to call out to Steve, when he saw him on the couch. What he saw made him frown. Steve was soaked in sweat and he was shivering. The former white bandage was tinged a bright red.

Lou wasn't sure what to do, but the former SEAL looked totally out of it. So, he stepped closer and gently touched his forehead, and was not surprised to feel the heat. The touch roused Steve somewhat and he mumbled something Lou didn't quite catch but thought it sounded a lot like "Catherine".

"Steve, come on, wake up," Lou called out and gently shook his friend's shoulder.

"Wha'? Go 'way."

Grover grinned, but shook the shoulder again. This time with more success. He looked into two bleary eyes.

H50 - H50 - H50

"Lou?"

"Hey. Sorry to wake you, but you're bleeding," Grover said and motioned to the bandage on Steve's thigh.

Steve looked in confusion from Lou to his thigh and back to his friend. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, making sure that you were OK. Which you're obviously not."

"I'm fine," Steve answered.

"You have a fever."

"I might have a slightly elevated temperature," Steve corrected, reaching up his forearm to wipe the sweat off his face. "I was shot, of course, I have a temperature," Steve grumbled after seeing Lou's frown. "Fine, I have a fever, and I feel like shit. Happy now?"

"No. No, not at all. You're bleeding, Steve. We need to get that checked."

"I'm not going back to the ER. I walked to the bathroom without the crutches. It's nothing, really."

"Why the heck didn't you use crutches?"

Steve looked at his friend and debated whether to tell him the truth or not. "I got sick, and didn't have time to grab them."

"Do you still feel sick?"

"No."

"Could be the meds, or the blood loss. Trauma often causes nausea," Lou said.

"Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Grover?"

"Funny. You know, if you don't want me to haul your ass to the ER, you should be nice to me."

"Yes, Sir, Captain," Steve said and laid his head back down. Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the nausea that again was showing its ugly head.

"You going to puke again?"

"Not if I can avoid it," Steve grumbled.

"Did they give you anything for it?"

"I wasn't sick at the hospital. They only gave me a prescription for pain meds."

"Well, to be honest, you look like you could use one of those pills, too" Grover said and helped Steve sit up.

Steve was glad to be sitting again, it helped with the nausea. He looked down at the soaked bandage. "Damn."

"You're supposed to have it changed tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, every day for the next few days. But we need to take a look now," Steve said and looked at Grover. "There's a med kit in the upstairs bathroom."

"Do you think you can make it upstairs? You'd be more comfortable in bed," Grover asked.

"No sure," Steve honestly answered.

"Come on, I'll help you."

Together they made it upstairs, Steve cursing a few times, but in the end he was glad to be sitting on his bed.

"The kit's under the sink," Steve said and started to peel off the bandage.

When Grover came back with the medical supplies, Steve was ready to take off the last layers of gauze.

"That doesn't look too bad," Grover said in surprise after taking a close look at the injury.

The wound wasn't bleeding, and Steve was sure it had only bled because he had put his weight on the leg. Or maybe he hit the wound in his haste to get to the bathroom. Whatever the cause, it had stopped bleeding.

It took the two men only a few minutes to put a nice new bandage on the leg. After that was done, Steve felt thoroughly drained and scooted back on the bed. The nausea was also back and he wasn't sure if he would puke again or not.

"You look sick again," Grover observed.

"Hmm."

"Listen, I'll call the hospital and ask about something for the nausea, and if they say you should come back, we go back," Grover said and it sounded like he wouldn't argue that point.

"OK. Lou?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. Thanks for coming by."

"Sure, no problem."

Steve watched his friend from his prone position on the bed. He listened to the one sided conversation, and was glad that Grover didn't push the issue when he obviously learned that they didn't need to go back to the ER.

"So, what's the verdict?" Steve asked.

"He wrote a prescription for the nausea that he said should help. He also said for you to rest, and to keep the leg elevated. If the fever doesn't go down in the next few hours we should call again, or come right back in."

"We?"

"Yeah, we. Guess I was just promoted to McGarrett-Keeper. That, by the way, was not in your glorious job description. Neither were drones, or all the other shit from today."

"But Danny warned you of getting shot at," Steve argued.

"That he did. Now, stay put, I'll get the meds," Grover said from the doorway.

"Not going anywhere," Steve said aloud. "Don't think I could, even if I wanted to," he grumbled under his breath, but still loud enough for Grover to hear.

"Good, that makes my job easier. I don't have to come looking for you. I'll be right back."

Steve watched his friend leave and thought even though Catherine was not here, there were still friends around who did care about him and took care of him when he needed it.

H50 - H50 - H50