I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.

Notes: thank you for the warm reviews! I might not have too much time to respond to each of you, but I'll try. Ongoing thanks to JazzieG!

H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O

Steve glowered down at the small blond man. He had no idea where he was and had no time to figure it out. If it was a ploy, it was a damned good one and Steve stepped over the prone figure with every intention of getting back to the base. As he looked through the windows of the house, he recognized bits of home. The bright sun, the swaying palms. Once he confirmed his exact location, he could make it back to his ship in no time at all.

He snorted in derision when he walked through the kitchen, craning his neck just enough to see the fancy black Camaro under the awning of the breezeway. The blond had a nice ride at least and he'd only be borrowing it until he got within walking distance of Hickam. With any luck, he'd bypass the brig and just need a once over by the doc in the infirmary. Scowling at that thought, Steve thumbed the space between his eyes where a tiny but ruthless band had taken up residence. His head throbbed. He felt sick. He had no idea what had happened to give him such an injury or even where. He'd never be able to explain a damned thing. Avoiding even the infirmary might be a good idea. He didn't feel well at all though and making matters worse, Steve had no idea how anyone could have had the time to shave that patch of hair and even suture the cut on his scalp. Something niggled at him - a distant memory - a feeling that he should know. Maybe that he should even know the unconscious man he'd left on the bedroom. But his ability to concentrate refused to cooperate as that band increased its cadence behind his eyes. The headache he woke with was bad, yet it wasn't anything he couldn't shake off. At least for a little while. And he did that quickly when he spied the Camaro's car keys on the kitchen table. Scooping the fob up, Steve was out the kitchen door in two long strides. He wobbled for a split second in the brightness of the day, working hard to push back an unexpected surge of nausea. For a minute, he was so disoriented that he couldn't even catch his bearings. Sweat broke out along his face and he coughed back the bitter taste of bile. He wasn't drunk, he was sure of that ... maybe drugs then?

Steve pulled a face at that strong possibility. Drugs? Who then ... and why?

He gently traced the sore skin near the three staples. All he knew was that he'd been attacked; the truth of that was more than evident and the throbbing in his head was preventing him from logical thought because there were major flaws in everything he was hypothesizing. If was the blond who'd managed any of this, he'd do better to cart the man along with him and deal with his own pride later. Then again ... why bother? He was already free of him and the house, both easily identifiable. Even the car could be traced. He paused as something else teased rudely at his misfiring senses. Doubts about how he'd handled the short altercation flared and yet, even as he felt a strong urge to return to the man's side, Steve argued each one. He needed to stay his course.

Steve stopped long enough to focus on his surroundings, taking in the pleasant neighborhood. The street was calm, the houses pristine. Other than his own presence there, nothing seemed out of place and he sensed no danger. There was no one outside to stop him from leaving. Utterly confused when all his musings came up woefully short, Steve sighed; none of what was happening made any sense at all.

God, just what the hell had happened to him? He couldn't recall having a leave as bad as that one time with ... in fact, where the hell was Freddie? Steve was going to have his friend's ass if this was all one big joke ... a joke that had left him with a ... cute blond? Oh hell no! Steve chuffed a harsh sound through his nose half in amusement; if this was Freddie's doing, it was a damned good ...

"Uncle Steve!"

The young voice which interrupted his thoughts was as bright as the sun which was blinding him and Steve grunted in alarm as a small body careened wildly into his legs, arms tightly wrapped around his hips. "Hi Uncle Steve!"

Steve looked down into the face of the waif of the boy who had suddenly trapped him. Uncle Steve?

"What?" He blurted stupidly as he tried to tug the kid away from him. "Hey ... let go." Instead, the boy was giggling as he practically climbed his way up Steve's legs. Bare toes dug into his knee and then his thigh, sure to leave bruises behind. Before Steve could react, the kid was tangled in his arms like a monkey and practically nose to nose with him.

"Hey listen kiddo ...," Steve said, stunned when the boy pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I - I gotta go ... "

"But Uncle Steve you promised." The kid's eyes were blue and honest. His expression a mix of excitement and pending disappointment. His hair was damp from sweaty play and his face flushed from heat. Steve surprised himself by thinking that the kid had had enough of playing in the hot sun.

"Promised what? A-and ...I'm not your Uncle," Steve replied thickly. That band inside his head was now double-timing it; the nausea flared. Feeling sicker than ever before, he tried to untangle the boy from his arms. "And listen, I have to go now."

The boy momentarily lost his smile and even Steve sensed that the words he'd just stumbled over felt very wrong on his own tongue. He waffled on what to do as he stared back into the kid's face, an odd feeling of tenderness making him swallow hard. Baffled by his feelings, he ran an aimless circle over the kid's back with his fingertips. The t-shirt he was wearing was sticky, clammy. The kid needed to go in the house ... cool off ... get a drink.

But why the hell would he even care?

"You still don't feel good?" The boy asked carefully. "Uncle Steve? Are you sick?"

"What? No, I feel fine ...and," Steve breathed out in confusion as weird doubts started to creep in. All of his words felt wrong and he winced as a spike of pain shot through his skull. His vision blurred for an instant and he nearly lost his balance. When his eyesight sharpened again, the little boy was looking directly into his face, his expression full of uncertainty.

"Uncle Steve?" The voice was small, quiet and Steve felt a pang of guilt which almost floored him.

"N-no. W-what did I just say to you? Go i-inside ..." Steve stuttered badly, unsure of what to do as the child stared far too trustingly into his face. Little fingers tore into his shirt as big blue eyes welled with tears. Steve coughed, wincing through another flux of pain. He was losing his focus and he really needed to get rid of the kid. "You ... you need to go inside now. Enough play ... it's hot and ... and uh, besides ...I'm not your Uncle ..."

"But...Uncle Steve ...," the boy began to object immediately, his lip beginning to tremble. "But ..." The child's next inhale was breathy, ending in a hitch, a foreboding of what was to come. The smile had fallen from his face entirely now and much to Steve's dismay, a tear broke free to roll down the boy's reddened cheek. Barely a second later, another followed that one. Hand shaking, Steve automatically thumbed the moisture away.

"Put him down."

The strident voice came from over his shoulder and Steve literally lurched in surprise, nearly dropping the boy. "Steve? Put him down."

Steve turned towards the house, his back now to the black Camaro. The blond man was there, hovering between the doorway and the breezeway, his eyes a blue which matched those of the teary-eyed child Steve was holding. What he saw now though made Steve's heart inexplicably twist in pain. Hands out-stretched, fingers splayed wide, the man's fear was palpable as he dared take a step or two closer.

"Just ... please ... put him down. All right?"

For the briefest moment, Steve felt a surge of anger replace that flux of internal heartache because this? This wasn't his fault and he wasn't going to hurt anyone. Least of all, he'd never hurt a kid. The blond must have sensed it too - but for all the wrong reasons - because the look of sheer panic which flickered across his bruised face was stunning in its intensity.

"Steve ... please," the man whispered. His words were slurred around a lip which was bloodied and by the swelling spreading across his jawline. Another bruise marred his temple where his head must have connected with floor. "I don't care where you go ... take the damned car if you want. Just put him down. We'll get it all sorted out later."

"Danno?" Steve shifted the child in his arms unconsciously when the boy sobbed out, his hand still on autopilot as it rubbed a soothing circle on the kid's back. He was crying nearly silent tears now, the only other sound that of each shuddering inhale and exhale. He was frightened and uncertain, likely more than just a tiny bit scared by the blood marring his father's ... because the blond man was the boy's father ... face.

Steve winced when he bent down and that knife-like pain slashed through the center of his head. "Get down ... let go," he whispered to the boy who finally released his shirt long enough for Steve to set him on his feet.

"Charlie," the man said, his hand out as he beckoned his son to his side. "Come to me, okay? Everything's okay."

Steve nodded as the boy finally left him, a sad parting glance aimed his way. Suddenly everything around him felt wrong. The sun was too bright, the air far too hot and humid. He could barely breathe. Steve grimaced as his knees began to shake. He was holding it together just long enough to have placed the boy on his feet and to make sure that he'd made it safely to his father's side. After that though? Steve staggered heavily before falling to a knee with a loud grunt. The car keys slipped from his fingers when his hands flailed, finding nothing to lay purchase on.

There was a flash of blue sky, the white fluff of clouds as the world did up-end him right then and there. It tossed him up and heaved him right over.

"Steve!"

Steve moaned as he hit the macadam, his head thudding hard against the pavement. He heard the garbled shouts of his name and felt a warm, steady hand on his arm, strong fingers curved under his aching head to lift it off the hot surface.

"Steve? Steve ... can you hear me? What's wrong ... can you tell me what's wrong? Steve!"

He looked up into the blond's terrified face and something snapped inside hard enough for each broken piece to finally fall into place. Uncle Steve. Charlie. Thoughts of the base, leave and Freddie melted away as if they'd never even existed. Ghostly memories that were stale and false evaporated and Steve's mouth gaped open in confusion because he knew then. Danno. There had been a case ... he'd been attacked ... Danny was trying to help him. Take care of him.

"Come on, stay with me," Danny begged him. "Just ... take it easy ... everything's going to be okay."

"Danny?" He heaved in a breath of air, searching now for Danny's hand.

There was the sketchiest of smiles as some, but not all of the fear, left his partner's face. "Yeah. You with me again, buddy?"

"Think so ... w'at happened?," Steve whispered as he clung to Danny, their fingers twined together, confused and scared because he knew. He just didn't know why or how ... breathing hard through the pain, Steve dug his fingers into his partner's hand in a vain attempt to combat the debilitating agony inside his head.

"Hang on all right?" Danny said anxiously. "Ambulance is on the way ... and you're going to be okay. You hear me?"

"Danny?" Steve whispered again and again. "Danny ...?" He blinked wildly as his vision fluctuated and fractured into shards of gray and blacks. He could barely make out his partner's face now through a hazy blur. "D'nny ... ?" He didn't know what he wanted to say and then, it hardly mattered. He was losing the fight to stay conscious, his only lingering connection to reality was the feel of his hand wrapped within Danny's equally unrelenting grip as his eyes simply closed.

~ to be continued ~