Sorry... This chapter was so hard to write that I ended up starting from scratch a couple of times. But it's done now and I hope it lives up to everyone's expectations. I'll start posting the sister story after the next chapter is done and up.

Thanks to everyone who's taken the time to read, favourite, follow and review. It's much appreciated.

And finally, I'm (still) not a doctor, this chapter is un-beta'ed and any and all mistakes are my own. :)

It's finally the end of the shift from hell.

I'm in the back of the rig wiping down the surfaces when Yoda announces 'a new text you have' from the depths of the Minions tote that's been pressed into service as my handbag. Setting my cleaning stuff down, I pull my phone from its little zip pouch, expecting the message to be Kati asking if I want to meet her for a quick dinner once I've finished here. It's not; instead, the text is from McGarrett, letting me know how Danny's doing.

'Admitted for observation tonight', the message reads. 'At least the company's not so bad…'

Under the text is a photo; Grace is beaming up at the camera from where she's sitting snuggled into Danny's side on his hospital bed, holding a Harry Potter book. Take away the ugly diamond-patterned gown the detective is wearing and they look like they could be in Grace's room or on the couch at home, not sitting in a hospital with only the Boy Who Lived and SuperSEAL for company.

Smiling, I text back 'Fingers crossed for the all-clear tomorrow (And those better not be your dirty boots I see on the bed!)'. Then I stand, shove my phone in my pocket and go back to my cleaning. By the time Heather reappears from filing our paperwork with the watch commander, I've only got the door handles left to do.
"What have you got planned for tonight?" I ask a few minutes later as I check the internal safe one last time and then jump down from the back of the rig.
"Just the usual," my partner replies with a shrug. "Help Ross with dinner and then spend some time with the kids before they go to bed."

Heather has two kids – ten-year-old Kalani and Matthew who just turned seven. When she's on day shift, she leaves the house the kids are awake and only gets home about an hour before Matty's bedtime so her husband, Ross, fits the school run in around his job as a self-employed landscape gardener. Nightshift is a little easier – Heather stays up when she gets in in the morning and then goes to bed once she's driven the kids to school.

"I've barely seen the kids this week, what with being on shift and the kids' extra-curricular activities," Heather sighs as we cross the garage and head inside to sign in our radio and keys. "It's my turn to do the school run next week so I'll hopefully get to see them for more than an hour a day. What about you, Chloe, anything nice planned?"
"Not really, unless you count slobbing out on the couch in front of the TV."
My partner smiles wistfully as she watches me hand everything over to control room supervisor. "That sounds like heaven. The kids are obsessed with Hannah Montana and Sponge Bob so that's what we usually end up watching."

I'm really looking forwards to having a quiet night in tonight. Katie's going to some corporate event tonight so my plans consist of ordering takeout, pouring myself a large glass of wine and soaking in a steaming hot bath until the sour milky smell that's lingering in my nostrils is replaced with something a little bit more pleasant. Then I'm going to put on a clean pair of jammies and my ratty old Jack Skellington, and eat Ben and Jerry's straight from the tub while I watch The Nightmare Before Christmas.

I lead the way down the hall to the locker room once I've signed the radio and key logs. My partner sinks down onto the bench in the middle of the room with a sigh and then bends over to unlace her boots while I pull my soiled shirt and bra out of my locker and bundle them under my arm. I'll need to replace my spares before I come back on shift tomorrow night in case we have a repeat of the baby sick situation; it was bad enough having to wait an hour and a half to change and run a wet wipe over my arms and chest – I shudder to think what would have happened if I hadn't had spare clothes. Just… yuck.

Both of us are parked in the structure across the street so we walk over together and Heather swipes her card at the pedestrian entrance to give us access. When the door clicks open I follow her into the stairwell and start the climb to the fourth floor. Yoda pipes up again as I'm hauling myself up the final flight but I wait until I'm at my car before I pull my phone out of my pocket because I can't afford to get the screen replaced should I accidentally drop it (again) after paying for flights home to Illinois (roll on November), Grace's birthday present and presents for my brother's baby. Admittedly, I went a little overboard buying clothes for my new niece (yes, it's a girl!) but I found this adorable little baby-grow with 'I love my' and a picture of an ant underneath and couldn't resist.

Steve has texted back 'can neither confirm nor deny' in reply to my boots-on-the-bed scolding. There's a little winking smiley face at the end, which I'm guessing is Grace's doing. Steve doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who uses emojis.
"What are you smiling at?" Heather pushes up onto her tiptoes to peer nosily over my shoulder. Frowning, she asks, "Why is McGarrett texting you?"
"It's not what you think," I mutter, hastily swiping my thumb across the message to delete it as my partner leans back against the trunk of my Camry and folds her arms over her chest.
"And what exactly is it you think I'm thinking?"

"So, let me see if I've got this right," she says a few minutes later once I've filled her in. "He asked you out to dinner to thank you for babysitting Williams' kid when he – McGarrett – got hit by a car, but then he cancelled on you because of work so you went and hooked up with your ex instead. Did I get that right?"
"I didn't hook up with Eddie because Steve cancelled on me…" I protest but Heather just rolls her eyes.
"Okay well, either way, you should seriously consider writing a soap opera based on your life because wow…."

"Helpful. Thank you," I huff as I start to dig around in my bag for my car keys. "I'm going home. See you tomorrow." I move to brush past my partner but she snag my shirtsleeve and then slides down from where she'd pushed herself up to perch on the lip of the trunk.
"What are you going to do about your ex?" she asks. "Have you talked to him?"
Sighing, I rub a hand up over my face and tell her, "At this point, I'd rather jump off a cliff into the Pacific and take my chances with the Great White that was spotted off Waianae a few days ago."

When I get home Katie's on the couch in her robe and her long dark hair is pinned up into an elegant chignon ready for her work do later on. Her pretty face twists in dismay when she turns to greet me and then spots the bruising beneath my eye, and she scrambles off the couch as I shrug my bag off my shoulder and head into the kitchen to pour myself a stiff drink.
"What the hell happened?"
"Someone hit me," I tell her once I've downed the contents of my glass and poured myself another. "It's fine, I can barely feel it now."
"Shit," Katie mutters. "I hope you returned the favor."
"Not allowed. And technically, the guy was under arrest at the time." Sighing, I rub a hand up over my face and then turn to set my empty glass in the sink. "I'm going to go take a bath. Are you going to be here for a little while yet?"
"Probably - I still need to get dressed and do my makeup," my roommate replies, offering me a wry smile. "Got to look my best for all the corporate bigwigs my boss are trying to schmooze."

I spend a good thirty minutes soaking in a steaming hot bath filled with coconut scented bubbles and by the time I get out, I feel almost human again. My wet hair gets twisted up in a messy topknot and then I wipe the mirror where it's steamed up and tie my robe belt a little tighter before heading out into the hall. Katie's standing in front of the tall mirror in the corner the living room and she adjusts herself in her stunning blue body-con dress before pointing to the earrings she borrowed from the jewelry box in my closet.
"Can I borrow these?"
"If you must," I tell her as I sink down onto the couch and tuck my bare feet up under my body. Spotting my phone lying on coffee table, I frown. "What were you doing with my phone? I left it charging in my room."
"Hmm?" Katie glances up from where she's admiring my diamond studs in the mirror. "Oh, it rang while I was in there so I answered it. Someone called Grier - or was it Grayson? – was looking for you."
"Do you mean Grace?"
Katie cocks a finger at me and then turns back to the mirror to wipe away an imaginary blob of mascara. "That's the one. I told her you'd call her back. Who is she, anyways? She sounded like Minnie Mouse on helium."
"That's because she's just a kid."

Grabbing my phone, I stand and head back along the hall to call Grace from the privacy of my bedroom. Katie follows me, firing questions at the back of my head even as I flop down onto my bed face-first. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" I grumble into my pillow when the mattress dips down near my hip.
"Not right this minute." My roommate carefully lowers herself onto the bed and tenses until she's sure her dress is going to hold; it's so tight that one wrong move could cause the zip at the back to burst. When she doesn't hear the material rip, she sinks back against my quilted velvet headboard with a sigh. "So, are you going to tell me who this kid is, or not?" she asks, pulling at a loose stitch at the corner of the throw pillow she's cradling in her lap.

"She's the daughter of one of the guys I work with. Detective Williams."
"He's the little blond guy I saw on the TV the other day, right?" my roommate asks as I flop over onto my back and roll my head across my pillow to look at her. "Commander Sexy Pants' partner…"
"Yes." I scowl at her. "And don't call him that. I'd like to be able to look him in the eye when I see him at work."

"He is hot, though. Williams, too," Katie smirks. "I wouldn't say no to either of them, put it that way." Glancing down at her watch, she continues, "Right, I'd better get going if I'm going to get there for eight thirty. My boss will flip if I'm late. One of the potential investors we've been wooing for months is flying in from Dubai just for this party – I spent all day running round the whole island trying to find somewhere that sells this really expensive Krug champagne he likes just in case the crate of Dom Perignon they ordered isn't good enough. He better appreciate all the effort I went to, that's all I'm saying."

Katie's dress is still intact by the time she flop-rolls herself off the bed onto her feet, and I can't help but grin when I catch a glimpse of her waddling down the hall to grab her clutch purse and shoes from her room. "A word of advice," I call after her, leaning over to grab my phone from where it's fallen off the side of the bed. "If you can't walk in your dress without waddling like a duck, it's too tight."
She makes me snort with laughter when she yells back, "There's no such thing, Chloe Sweeting, and you know it!"

Grace called me from Steve's phone and when I call him, he answers on the third ring. There's music playing softly and the low buzz of chatter in the background so he's obviously not at the hospital with Danny anymore.
"Hey, is Grace still there with you? My roommate said she called earlier," I say, pushing myself up to sit. My pillow gets pulled out from underneath me and tossed to the side as I lean back against my headboard and pull my knees up to my chest.
"Yeah, she's here," he replies, sounding more relaxed than he has in days. "Hang on, I'll pass you over."

I run my finger over a scar on my ankle – from a blister courtesy on my work boots during the breaking-in period – while I wait for Steve to give the phone to Grace. I wonder what she wants? We've only met once and it wasn't exactly how I imagined it would be – who in their right mind ever imagines having to look after a distraught seven year old in the wake of a car accident? You just don't.

There's a lot of whispering going on on the other end of the line - Well, Grace is whispering. Steve's just talking a little quieter than normal – and part of me wishes they'd hurry up so I can plant myself in front of the TV with a glass of vino. After a minute or so, the whispers die down but instead of Grace it's Steve I end up hearing.
"Grace wants to know if you're –" There's a sudden flurry of indignant whispers and a pause before he clears his throat and continues, "Sorry – Grace and I would like to know if you're doing anything?"

Frowning, I let my legs slide down over the top of my comforter. "What, like right now?" It's a little short notice but other than that, I'm not quite sure why I'm hesitating. Well, actually no, I do – it's because I have the apartment to myself tonight and, as much as I love Katie, I'm kind of looking forwards to being able to watch TV without her providing a running commentary. On the other hand, it's not like Jack and Sally won't still be here when I get back and Katie won't be back until the wee hours so I could go out, and then watch my movie went I get back; and since I'm going onto nights tomorrow, I don't have to worry about staying up too late because I can sleep as long as I want in the morning. It's a win-win situation.

"Yeah, I'm free. What were you guys thinking?"

"How about dinner?" Steve suggests as I shuffle forwards and swing my legs over the side of my bed. "I still owe you for the other day and I told Grace's mom we'd eat before I drop her off. The only thing is, I kind of promised Grace I'd take her to see the dolphins so – "
"The Hilton is fine," I interrupt, walking over to my door when I hear Katie's heels tap-tap-tapping along the laminate flooring in the hall. Sticking my head out, I motion for her to wait a second as I tell Steve, "Give me fifteen, twenty minutes. I need to get changed and dry my hair, otherwise it will be completely unmanageable in the morning."

"Hot date?" Katie comes to lean against my doorframe as I duck back into my room, already halfway out of my robe. It gets flung onto the bed as I head over to the dresser for a bra and panties that don't have Bazinga stamped across the ass.
"No… It's just dinner. Could you give me a ride to the Hilton?" I ask, hopping around as I try to pull her seriously low-riding skinny jeans (the same ones I wore to Side Street) a smidge higher on my hips. Once they're zipped and buttoned, I hold up two tops. "Which one?
"The black tank." She takes the other one from me and tosses it on the bed on top of my robe before checking her watch. "We need to leave in, like, three minutes," she warns before disappearing back along the hall to check the full effect of her makeup, dress and heels in the mirror in the living room.

Three minutes means I have to settle for scraping my hair back into a slightly neater bun and slapping a bit of concealer onto my bruises. My mascara goes in my pocket along with my phone as I thrust my bare feet into the first pair of flat shoes I find. I leave the laces undone – I'll do them in the car – and hurry down the hall to the kitchen to grab some money and my keys.

"Chloe!"
Grace pushes out her chair and runs to meet me when she spots me weaving my way through the tables at the Hilton Hawaiian Village's poolside bar. Her rather over-enthusiastic greeting nearly knocks me on my ass and I laugh as I return the young girl's hug. "Hi, Sweetheart. I'm sorry I took so long to get here."

There was an accident on the H1 heading towards Pearl City and two of the lanes ground to a standstill not long after we joined. Katie was practically hyperventilating about being late by the time we had crawled as far as the off-ramp for the Moanalua Freeway so I ended up getting a cab here from the Marriott, which is where Katie's party is being held. My fifteen to twenty minutes ended up being more like forty-five.

"We had to order without you," Grace says, wrapping a hand around my wrist and proceeding to tug me along behind her. "I wanted to wait but Uncle Steve said no."
"That's okay. I should have let you know I was running late," I tell her as we quickly slip past a rather rowdy table near the bar and continue around the side of the pool to where Steve's sitting. "So, was your dad surprised to see you earlier?"
"Uhuh… He said it was the best surprise ever."

Grace loosens her grip when we reach the table but she doesn't let go. "Sit next to me," she begs, tugging me round the table until I'm stood with her on my left and Steve on my right.
"Sorry, I murmur, offering Steve an apologetic smile as I pull my chair up to the table. "The traffic was horrendous – I would have been quicker walking here. Grace said you ordered already…?"
"Yeah. Sorry." Steve leans forwards to set his beer bottle down on the table and then pushes himself up, saying, "I'll go get you a menu. What are you drinking?"
"Beer, please. Anything is fine."

I order a burger and fries to go with the Longboard Steve brings me. I smile my thanks to the waitress as she sets a heaped plate down in front of me and then get to work stacking my onions ring on top of the bacon rasher and pineapple ring on my burger patties while Grace tucks into her angel hair pasta. My burger tower is hallway to my mouth when I realize Steve is watching me with a mildly horrified expression on his face. I'm sure you know the one – like, when you see a snake devouring a poor little helpless mouse and you want t look away but physically can't?
Like that.

"What?"
Steve leans back in his seat. "What do you mean, what? That thing is like ninety-nine percent cholesterol. I can hear your arteries hardened from here."
"My arteries are just fine, thank you," I retort, pointedly taking a large bite out of my burger stack. I may not run a half marathon every morning before work like some people but I still get plenty of exercise. You try lugging all of my equipment and the stretcher up six flights of stairs and then tell me I'm not fit. Anyways, I deserve something nice after the day I've had.

Only… Well, it's kind of hard to enjoy my food when a guy, who eats like a ninety-year-old man with no teeth most of the time, is judging me over it. It's enough to give a girl a complex.
"I'm done," I mutter, dropping my half-eaten burger onto my plate. I shove it into the middle of the table and then flop back in my chair as Grace looks up from where she's twirling angel hair pasta around her fork like a pro. She eyes my discarded plate curiously before he gaze flicks across the table to her uncle, who looks rather bemused by my sudden change of heart.
"Is it not good?" Grace asks, wrinkling her nose. "You can have some of my pasta, if you want." She goes to move her bowl into the space between us, but I stop her by laying a hand on her forearm.
"I'm okay, Sweetie, but thanks for the offer." I lean forwards to snag my Longboard off the table and then whisper conspiratorially, "I might steal some of your uncle's fish, though."

Grinning, the young girl whispers back, "Uncle Steve doesn't share food."
"Unless it's blue M&Ms, right?" I say with a wink, remembering the story she told me about Mr. Big Bad Navy SEAL saving his blue M&Ms for her.
"Oh, yeah…" Grace says, pausing her fork twirling momentarily before she snickers and tells me, "This one time, Auntie Kono stole a cookie off his plate and Uncle Steve chased her all the way down the beach to get it back."
When I twist to look at Steve for confirmation, he shrugs and says, "I didn't chase her all the way down the beach."
"You didn't?" I drain my beer bottle and motion for him to elaborate.
"She only got as far as next door," he eventually admits with a smirk as Grace dissolves into a fit of giggles behind me. "I may have tackled her. But, in my defense, they were really good cookies."

Grace slides onto Steve knee as I'm finishing my third beer.
"Tired?" he asks, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind the young girl's ear. When she nods, he asks, "Do you want to go?"
"Yeah," she mumbles. "Can we still see the dolphins? You promised."
When the waitress brings the check, she takes that as he cue to slide down from her perch and I slip a few bills out of my pocket, and slide them across the table. Steve shakes his head and pushes them back, saying, "I've got it" as he pulls his wallet from the pocket of his cargos. He drops a few notes onto the silver tray and then stands. Once he's upright, Grace holds her arms up – the universal gesture for 'pick me up' – and Steve settles her on his hip with a practiced ease.

"Coming?" he asks when we reach the winding path that leads down through the gardens to the man-made cove that houses the Hilton's small pod of dolphins. When I motion for him to lead the way, Grace smiles sleepily from where she's resting her head against Super SEAL's shoulder.
I feel decidedly tipsy as I carefully pick my way along the dimly-lit path in their wake but I still nearly end up on my knees when I catch the toe of my Chuck Taylors on a raised paving block. Thankfully, Steve grabs my arm before I can do any damage.
"Careful, you don't need any more bruises," he grumbles, hauling my upright as though I barely weight anything (if only), and then setting me back on my feet. Cringing, I mutter 'thanks' and quickly lean down to brush the dirt from the bottom of Katie's jeans.

After that, I make it down to the dolphin pool without further incident. The pool itself has been cordoned off to stop people wandering in unsupervised but there's a sort of raised platform where we can look down over the fake crop of rocks and watch as a member of staff throws fish into the water in return for a trick.
"Okay, I think its time I took this one home," Steve says a few minutes later when Gracie yawns and rubs at her eyes with the heel of her hand. Bumping her up higher on his hip, he leads the way back along the winding path up to the hotel and when we get there he holds the door open for a group of elderly women, who all coo over how adorable our 'little family' is. Steve just smiles politely instead of correcting them and when I open my mouth to do it for him, he kicks me in the shin and tells the women 'have a good night, ladies', while I scowl and rub at the sore spot on the front of my leg.

"I'm sorry, but no way do I look old enough to have an almost eight-year-old kid," I grumble as Steve and I walk through the hotel lobby towards the main entrance. "I would have had to have her when I was fifteen… They need their eyes tested, every one of them. Stop laughing, you… Neanderthal." Fighting a smile of my own, I lean over and thump him squarely in the thigh to make my displeasure known, and then duck into an empty revolving door enclosure to head outside.
A cool breeze dances around my bare ankles as I pull my phone from my pocket and then perch myself on a boulder just along from the valet stand. It's only nine thirty so there's no point in head back to the Marriott because a) Katie's party will only just have started and there's no way I'll be allowed in because b) I'm not on the guest list and c) even if I was invited, I couldn't go in wearing a tank top and jeans. There's a distinct lack of cabs at the rank down the road so, climbing down off my rock, I head over to the doorman to see if he'll order one for me.

"I'm going to Moanalua. Ala Kapuna Street," I tell him as Steve wanders over and digs a slip of paper out of his pocket. Grace is now fast asleep in his arms, her head lolling on his shoulder.
"I'll give you a ride," he offers as he hands his ticket stub to the doorman, who eyes the former SEAL suspiciously before ducking down to look in the safe box underneath his stand; Steve's not wearing his badge – or his gun, for that matter – so for all the doorman knows, he could a total creep looking to scam on a (slightly tipsy) young woman who's out on her own. It's both incredibly sweet and hysterical at the same time, so when he reappears holding the keys to the Silverado, I flash him a grateful smile and say, "The commander and I work together."

It only takes a few minutes for one of the attendants to bring Steve's truck round from the parking garage and Steve gets Grace buckled in in the back while the doorman helps me up into the passenger seat. He smiles and tips his hat when I push $20 into his hand as a thank you for looking out for me.
"Ready?" Steve asks, shifting the truck into drive. Leaning back in my seat, I wave a hand in the air and tell him, "Take me home, Jeeves."

Danny's ex-wife and her new husband live in Kailua in a large house hidden behind high walls and a wrought iron gate, which is lying out when Steve pulls up to the curb outside. He leaves the engine running as he ducks into the back to gather a still sleeping Grace in his arms and when he disappears into the grounds of the Edwards' sprawling McMansion, I slouch down in my seat and close my eyes. I don't open them again until we pull up outside my apartment building in Moanalua and Steve gently nudges me awake.
"Home, sweet home," I murmur, rolling my neck to work out a kink as I reach down to undo my safety belt. Opening the door, I look back over my shoulder and smile as I tell Steve, "Thanks for dinner. I had a nice time."

On the spur of the moment, I lean across the trucks center divide and press a kiss to his cheek. My lips tingle when I pull away and it sounds ridiculous, I know, but my heart is suddenly beating so fast I'm sure it's going to burst right out of my chest as I hover in the cramped space between the driver's seat and the roof. I'm scared to move in case the spell breaks and the butterflies I'm feeling turn out to be indigestion, or something equally as soul-destroying, but then Steve reaches up to cup the back of my neck and all I can think is fuck it as I lean down and kiss him.