This story picks up two months following the end of 'Deceptions' ID: 8249516

This story stands alone from the previous one, as it makes very little reference to events that occurred in "Deceptions". I've included a small prelude to the main story since 'tis the season for the flu!

Hope you'll enjoy!

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The silver Camaro came to a halt in the driveway of McGarrett's house. Out of the driver seat came Steve who walked to the passenger side where Danny was sleeping with an open-mouthed drool, his head resting awkwardly against the headrest.

"Hey! Sleeping Beauty," Steve beckoned, shaking Danny's shoulder. "Time to wake up."

A dazed Danny started out of sleep with a grunt; his bleary eyes trying to bring his partner into focus.

"We're here." Steve opened the passenger door and gently took hold of Danny's arm to assist him out of the car. "Let me help you out."

"I can do it," Danny argued, arms sluggishly flailing about to brush Steve's hand away, though a sudden dizzy spell quickly had him reconsider his decision. "Whoa! Didn't see that one coming. Thanks."

"You're welcome." He held Danny by the waist as he closed the door with his free hand. "Let's get you inside."

"Hey, wait a minute!" Danny stopped, rapidly batting his eyes to adjust focus on the house before him. "This isn't my apartment building."

"No we're at my house. Come on." Steve slid his arm underneath Danny's shoulders to get a better grip and helped him steady his wobbly gait to the door. "Lean on me."

"Steven, please, take me to my apartment. I'll be okay there," Danny whined, drowsy from being doped up on antiviral drugs.

"In that cockroach-infested sardine can you call an apartment? Not a chance! I have a hunch that's where you caught that virus. I love you too much, brother, to do that to you."

"Ahhhh I love you too," a giddy Danny drawled. He lazily looped his arm around Steve's neck to bring his cheek to his lips to plant a big noisy smack. "And it's only temporary."

"Yeah, how many months have you been saying that?" Steve remarked sarcastically. "And don't ever kiss me like that again!" he scolded. "People might get the wrong idea."

"Yeah, well, they already think we're an old married couple," Danny slobbered, waving his free arm about.

"Exactly."

"That was just an innocent peck on the cheek," Danny dismissed. "By the way you need a shave, babe."

They arrived at the front door. "Hold still," Steve instructed as he positioned Danny against the wall. He rummaged through his cargo pants for his house key while keeping a hand against Danny's shoulder to steady him.

"I don't feel so good," Danny whimpered, swallowing against a gagging reflex.

"I know, buddy. Just a few more seconds and I'll settle you into a nice comfy bed where you can rest."

"Something I don't understand."

"What's that, bro?" Steve opened the door and helped Danny inside.

"I always try to take real good care of myself, you know? Eat right, exercise, get plenty of rest," Danny bellyached as he slouched inside the house, clinging onto Steve. "Sure I occasionally get shot at but that's only when I'm around y...wait a minute! Wait a minute here. It's YOU!"

"What are you blabbering about?"

"It's you," Danny jabbed his finger into Steve's chest. "You gave me that virus."

"You're delirious my friend."

"Don't call me friend."

"Look at me? Do I look sick?"

"Everyone knows you don't need to be sick to get someone else infected," Danny slurred inches from Steve's face, who slanted his head sideway in disgust. "You just need to carry the virus and spread it around. Man, I bet we caught it on our trip. First you almost kill yourself and now me sick. I'm telling you this place is jinxed!"

Steve looped Danny's arm around his shoulders and held his own at his friend's waist as he guided him toward the staircase. "Danny, the petroglyphs are not what made you ill. I can assure you there's no curse on the Puako cave," Steve mocked. "You heard the doctor. There's an influenza epidemic sweeping the island. I'm afraid you got caught in the wave. And perhaps if we'd stayed up there a while longer like I suggested, you wouldn't have come in contact with infected people."

"I sure don't want Grace to catch this."

"That's why I'm putting you in quarantine until we completely eradicate the bug."

"Influenza in Hawaii? I would understand if we were in Jersey where we get cold winters, but here?"

"It can occur all year round. There's no seasonal pattern here like in cold climates. We sometime have flu outbreaks on the islands. I myself caught a nasty one five years ago when I came on an extended visit between missions."

"You? Superman SEAL? Didn't you say you never get sick?"

"I never said I never get sick. I said I don't get sick."

"Hum," Danny frowned in confusion. "Say that again?"

Steve tightened his grip around Danny's waist and steadied himself on the railing. "Do you think you can make it up the stairs?" he asked, looking up to gauge the distance.

"Of course I can," Danny groused, gripping the rail with one hand and holding onto Steve's shoulders with his other. "Just need a little shove."

Seeing how his friend could hardly lift his leg up the step, Steve chose an alternate, more radical approach to the problem. "Ah screw it!" He grabbed Danny's arm and swung him over his shoulder as effortlessly as he would a rag doll.

"Hey!" Danny griped.

His strong constitution would normally have easily carried him up the stairs, straddling two steps at once without breaking a sweat, even with a dead weight on his shoulder. Oddly enough, this exercise proved to be taxing on his body. Halfway up, he paused to catch his breath. "You've put on weight, Danno," Steve huffed out, a small cough gagging out of his throat. "And you tell ME to lay off the malasadas!"

Two purging breaths later, he resumed his trek and reached the top totally spent. He gently slid Danny off his shoulder and steadied him against the wall. "You okay?" he asked breathlessly, a deep crease slowly etching between his brows as he watched his friend's face turn a shade of green. "Maybe that wasn't such a good idea." He quickly grabbed a plant saucer and held it under Danny's chin just as he vomited.

He held Danny by the waist and waited for him to empty the content of his stomach. "I hate puking!" Danny loathed, spitting the last speck of vomit into the saucer. "Say babe, next time you feel the urge to haul me over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes...don't. You're lucky I didn't leave a trail of spew on your stairs."

"I'll keep that in mind. Come on, let's get you into bed." Steve left the vomit-filled saucer on the small hall table and assisted Danny down to the guess bedroom.

"Excuse me! I like to be wined and dined before I roll in the sack and it's usually with a pretty lady," Danny slurred nonsense, shuffling his feet alongside Steve who bore most of his weight. Reaching the bed, Steve held Danny with one arm while he flung the bed cover and sheets aside with the other. He gingerly lay Danny down on the mattress and adjusted the pillow behind his head.

"There! Comfy?"

Danny licked his dry lips and nodded.

"Kono will drop by a few of your things later. Toothbrush, razor, jammies, that sort of thing."

"How will she get into my apartment?"

"Guess?" Steve mocked as he went to the foot of the bed to remove Danny's shoes.

"She's gonna break in?" Danny asked dazedly.

"We took the key out of your pants, silly."

"Oh. What else did you pull out of my pants?" Danny feebly wiggled his eyebrows.

"Don't ask. It might be embarrassing," Steve humored.

"Ahhhhhhhh, taking advantage of a man when he's down. That's not nice, Stevie," Danny droned, waging his finger disapprovingly.

Steve choked out a guffaw, "Danno, you're such a babbling idiot when you're sick." He went to unbuckle Danny's belt.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked, shooting Steve a dubious stare.

"Taking your clothes off. You'll be more comfortable."

Danny raised a hand in protest. "If you don't mind, this is a task I'd much prefer performing by myself."

"Suit yourself." Steve went to the windows to close the blinds. He then adjusted the air conditioning and walked back to stand next to the bed where he watched Danny fumble with his tie. "Need help with that?" he smirked.

"No, no. I got it."

"Okay I'll go downstairs to make you a pitcher of cold water." Steve brushed his hand against Danny's forehead. "Not too warm. Won't be long before the fever peaks, though. How about a nice cup of tea?"

"Oh yeah sounds good, but none of that yucky herbal stuff please. Tastes like dish water," Danny whined while distractedly fidgeting with his tie.

"Don't worry. I'll make us the regular dish water," Steve quipped as he stared disbelievingly at Danny toiling with the simplest task of removing his tie.

"Are you making fun of me?" Danny asked.

"Of course I am," Steve ribbed with a silly mug on his face. "I learned from the best."

"And just who might that be?"

Steve grinned at the futility of continuing this exchange. "Ah, I think we'd better postpone this conversation until you remember who you are."

"Good thinking 'cause I have no idea what I just said to you." Danny mumbled with one hand flailing about.

Steve stopped to stare amazingly at Danny still fumbling with his tie. "Sure you don't want me to give you a hand with that?"

Danny dismissed Steve's offer with a wave of the hand. "I'll be done before you get back."

Steve went down to the kitchen to prepare the tea. He dry coughed twice, wincing at the scratchy feeling it left in his throat.

Minutes later, Kono knocked on the door. Steve went to open it.

"So how's our patient doing?" she asked as she followed Steve into the kitchen, where she tossed on the counter a duffel bag containing Danny's personal belongings and a briefcase filled with 5-0 case files.

"Not too bad. I'm afraid it's going to get worse before it gets better. The doctor gave me instructions on how to care for him. Right now he's as weak as a newborn kitten and might I add, giddy as a drunken sailor. He babbles nonsense. He's also slow as molasses. I offered to give him a hand undressing, but he insisted on doing it himself. At this rate it might take him an hour just to remove his shirt."

Kono chuckled. "Perhaps I should go upstairs and give him a hand. He could be more receptive if it's a woman."

"I doubt it, besides the doctor advised against having too many people in the same room. Keep the same nursemaid to avoid contagion. I volunteered since I had the flu five years ago. I'm immune."

"Yeah well don't think you're completely impregnable here. This virus is highly contagious and might very well be a different strain than the one you caught."

"Don't worry. I'll be careful. I won't let him cough or sneeze on me."

"Ok. I think I brought everything that he might need," She said unzipping the duffel bag and unlatching the briefcase. "Got your backlog files in the briefcase and Danny's personal hygiene items and other stuff in the bag. If he needs anything else, just call and I'll bring it tomorrow morning."

"Thanks Kono. I really appreciate this," Steve acknowledged gratefully as he escorted her back to the door.

"Think nothing of it, boss. And you take care of yourself too."

"I will. Bye."

No sooner had Kono left that Steve went back upstairs with the tea pot, cup and duffel bag looped around his shoulder. As soon as he entered the room he found Danny's inert form sprawled ungainly on the bed with his legs dangling over the edge of the mattress; his tie still hanging loosely around his neck. He was out like a light with his mouth open; saliva drooling down his neck.

Steve placed the tea pot and cup on the night table and started rummaging through the bag for the pair of jammies. He spred the pyjama bottoms at the foot of the bed and began unbuckling Danny's belt. He gently removed his cotton khaki pants and his socks, leaving his boxer shorts and slid on the flannel pants, after which he removed his tie and shirt.

He thereafter took hold of his legs and tucked them underneath the sheets, then grabbed him by the shoulders to align him straight, with his head comfortably resting on the pillows. He then mantled the rest of his body with the sheets. Once again, he placed a hand against his friend's forehead and cringed at the heat radiating on the flushed skin.

"It's going to be a long night," he sighed. He poured himself a cup of tea and settled in an armchair across from the bed.

Later that evening, Steve was sitting at a small desk in the corner of the guest room, working on a file when he suddenly felt the urge to cough. He tried to muffle the sound with a hand over his mouth so not to wake Danny. A dizzy spell hit him and he pinched the bridge of his nose believing that it was merely the effect of having been engrossed in those files for the past two hours.

A barely audible moan escaping a sleepy Danny's lips prompted Steve to stand and walk over to the bed where he turned on the night lamp and checked the clock.

Danny's eyes flickered and slowly pried opened, squinting against the bright light. Steve adjusted the lampshade so that the light wouldn't shine directly into Danny's eyes. He sat on the skirt of the bed and ran a hand against Danny's feverish brow. Beads of perspiration were visibly pearling down his clammy face and neck.

"Hey sunshine!" Steve's cheerful greeting was met with a dark scowl. "Guess there's no point in asking how you're feeling."

"Just shoot me," Danny croaked faintly, his eyes watery and bloodshot.

"Not yet. Maybe if you get to be a pain in the neck, I might consider it," Steve joked.

Danny scanned the room and squinted. "Where am I?"

"You're at my place."

"I don't remember getting here. When was that?"

"This afternoon. I'm not surprised you don't remember because you were pretty much out of it. The doctor gave you an antiviral shot."

"Oh." Danny's face flushed with embarrassment. "Did I do or say something that I will regret later?" He coughed as he braced himself for the answer.

"You want the truth?" Steve couldn't help but tease.

"On second thought, no."

"Relax, Danno. It was innocent." Steve assured with a friendly tap on his friend's arm.

"How, how do you mean? What did I do?" he asked fretfully.

"Well, you kissed me and told me I needed a shave. See?" Steve leaned in to show his clean-shaven face. "Did it for you, babe." He gave an impish wink.

"Don't screw with me, McGarrett. I feel lousy enough already."

"What's a little torture between friends?" Steve smirked. He reached for the thermometer and took Danny's temperature in his ear, removing it seconds later to read the number.

"What's the verdict?"

"103.2." Steve grabbed the pitcher and poured a glass of water. He then popped two acetaminophen tablets into the palm of his hand and picked both with his fingers. "Open," he asked the patient before placing the two pills on Danny's tongue. "Here, take some water." He slid a hand in the back of Danny's neck to tilt his head forward and held the glass to his lips.

"So it's official. I'm a statistic," he wheezed out between sips.

"M'fraid so. Hate to tell you it'll get worse before it gets better. But with the antiviral shot, the doctor said you might not drag this for more than you need to, but that all depends on your metabolism."

"Gee thanks. That really gives me the incentive to shoot myself." Danny held his hand up sluggishly and nodded for Steve to stop with the water and he gently laid his head back on the pillow. "You know, you didn't have to do this."

"What? Do what?" Steve asked as he soaked a facecloth into the bowl of water on the night table and wrung it dry before dabbing at Danny's face with it.

"Babysit me. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate it, but I'm sure you could have made better use of your time."

"Kono brought over the backlog files so I can work on them while keeping a vigil on you. I'm actually getting work done without interruptions."

"I haaaaaaaaaaaaate thissss," Danny bewailed like a helpless child. "Sooooooo weak."

"I hear ya, bro," Steve empathized with Danny's predicament as he recalled being in the powerful grip of a similar unmerciful virus. "I know it's rough. I've been there. All you can do is ride out the storm until it's run its course." Steve dropped the cloth into the washbasin and adjusted the sheet over Danny's bare chest. "You try and get some sleep now. I'll be right there," he motioned to the desk and armchair across the room, "if you need anything."

Danny blinked heavily and smiled his thanks before letting his drooping eyelids close.

In the wee hours of the morning, Danny's fever reached an alarming peak. He barely had time to open his eyes that a coughing bout hit him.

Steve has dozed off in an armchair when Danny's retching began. His eyes shot open and focused on his partner's restless form. As he sprung up, the world did a double turn, forcing him back down on his seat. Nevertheless, he thrust aside his own discomfort with a shake of the head and staggered to his feet to dash to Danny's side.

He grabbed the vomit bowl seconds before the eruption occurred. He rubbed a soothing hand up and down Danny's back as he splattered the bowl with phlegm mixed with greenish bile.

Steve felt a bit lightheaded and none too fresh himself, but kept an all-night vigil at his friend's bedside. It was a rough night for Danny who kept nodding in and out between bouts of vomiting.

"Some..somebody!" Danny bemoaned in his sleep, in the grip of a powerful delirium. He was drenched in sweat and in obvious distress.

"It's okay, Danny. I'm here. I've got you, bro."

"Sooooooooo hot. Make it stop!" he pleaded, making Steve's heart bleed for his friend, knowing there was nothing he could do but offer some soothing comfort with wet towels.

Steve hurried to the bathroom to pour a generous amount of cool water into the washbasin and grabbed five additional washcloths before returning to Danny. He placed the bowl onto the night table and sunk the cloths in it. He wrung them of excess water and applied them at strategic areas on Danny's body. Two underneath his armpits, two that he wrapped around his wrists, a fourth he looped around his neck and one on his forehead.

Hues of grey mantled over Danny's cheeks followed by a series of gags, warning Steve that a second flood was about to gush out. He grabbed the vomit bowl and lifted Danny to a sitting position just as he hurled a familiar mixture followed by a few dry heaves.

Danny kept writhing and moaning and begged for anyone to stop the pain. Steve took the thermometer to his ear and cringed at the result of 103.8. He reached for his cell phone on the table and held onto Danny while dialing the doctor's number.

"Yeah, Doctor Stanford? This is Steve McGarrett. Sorry to call you so late but my friend's temperature is 103.8. Should I get him to the hospital?"

"No need if you stay with him and keep applying cool compresses on him. Is he vomiting?"

"Yes, quite a lot actually. Nothing but phlegm and bile."

"Try to make him drink water."

"He's delirious."

"In that case open his mouth, trickle down a few drops of water and massage his throat to elicit the swallow," the doctor instructed calmly.

"He keeps throwing it back up."

"All the more reason to keep forcing water down. We must keep his body hydrated."

"Okay, will do."

"Call me back if his temperature reaches 104 but from what I've seen with other cases at the hospital, he's going through the worse."

"Okay, thank you Doctor." Steve hung up and returned his attention to Danny.

"Throat...hurts to swallow," Danny lamented in his delirium.

Steve scooted closer to the head board and grabbed Danny underneath the armpits to haul him up onto his chest to elevate his upper body. Danny's head was now resting on his shoulder and this was obviously relieving stress on his burning throat. "How's that?"

Steve reached for the glass of water on the night table and brought it to Danny's lips. "Drink a bit of water for me." Danny didn't respond. "Come on, Danno!" Steve coaxed but to no avail. He then positioned himself to force Danny's mouth open and proceeded to dribble a few drops of water between his lips, taking heed not to make him choke or gag. He massaged the throat as the doctor instructed to trigger the swallow. He repeated the motion several times until he was satisfied Danny had drunk enough.

He then threw the washcloth from the forehead, now too warm, into the cold water. He twisted his body underneath Danny's dead weight, raising his arm over his head to reach the bowl and wrung the cloth dry of water before repositioning himself to apply it to the scalding forehead. Steve started smoothing Danny's damped hair back while keeping the cool cloth in place.

Steve grabbed a nearby pillow and slid it underneath his own head against the headboard. He continued his motion with the hair and closed his eyes to rest.

Morning dawn had risen for quite some time when Steve woke up groggy and stiff. He focused on his surroundings and remembered that he was in the guest room. He felt hot and looked down at the furnace lying against his chest. He placed his hand on Danny's forehead, which was still warm. He reached for the thermometer and took another reading. He sighed with some relief at the new number of 103.4.

He slowly and methodically slid out from underneath Danny and settled him on his pillow. As he was covering the blond's chest with the bed sheet, he was seized by a debilitating coughing fit. He stifled it with a hand over his mouth until he got to the hallway and hurried down to the bathroom to throw up in the sink. He leaned his forearms against the counter, waiting for the dry heaves to stop; feeling his weak legs giving way from under him. He had the worse splitting headache.

He turned on the water to wash the spew down. He looked up in the mirror and saw dark circles forming under his eyes. He touched his forehead. "Oh crap!" he cursed himself for coming down with the same virus. "I can't get it!" he argued with fate that had obviously dealt him a bad hand.