I do NOT own anything, but the plot.

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As always, thank you and I hope you continue to enjoy what's to come!

Nalo a loaʻa

-loosely translate to "lost and found"-

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

As consciousness ebbed in, Steve was aware of the near silence that surrounded him. Fleeting memories from months ago invaded his mind and his stomach sank at the mere thought that he had never made it home.

Slowly, his senses began to come back and with it his awareness grew. He could feel a blood pressure cuff around his bicep, the clip on his finger was reminiscent of before when he was monitored post-op, and the familiar nasal cannula told him he was definitely back in the same position he was five months previous. However, the pain that hit him was different this time, and he couldn't resist the groan that followed the ebb of pain at his side.

"Uncle Steve?"

Turning his head towards the sound of the soft voice, Steve willed his eyes to open. Blinking multiple times, slowly Grace's face began to come into focus. He wanted to smile, but the grief stricken look on her face wouldn't allow it and he knew not to assume everything was okay between them.

"It's late ... everyone's asleep," she whispered gently, taking his hand. "It's good you woke up."

"Wh'appened?" he slurred before coughing gently against the dryness of his throat, groaning as pain radiated from his side.

"You were shot," Grace told him, reaching for the cup on the table near his bed. "And stabbed," she murmured, tearfully rolling her eyes. "Here, drink this," she coerced him as she brought a straw to his lips. "It'll help. I can go and get some ice chips if you want."

"No, this is good, thanks." He drank greedily before letting his body melt into the pillow. "Why are you still here, Grace?" He asked, fixing her with a look, but he saw the devastation light her eyes up as he asked the question and quickly reached for her hand. "Not that I'm not grateful, but it's late, and you-"

"-said I didn't want to be around you," she added with a sigh, her head dipping shamefully. "I was mad ... I still am mad."

Steve felt his heart sink and prayed it wouldn't show on the monitor beside his bed. The beeping had been something he'd noticed first, that was a harsh contrast with the silence he lived in.

"I know now that I'm not mad at you," she suddenly spoke, squeezing his hand. "At first, when you first came back, I thought about how you left us and how you just came back and looked like nothing had happened ... but then Danno said how something had happened and I couldn't wrap my head around any of it ... and then I was just mad that I couldn't understand why this had to happen to us ... to me ..." she paused, her tearful eyes slowly rising to meet his. "To you."

"Hey, hey, Gracie," he soothed, trying his hardest to be comforting, but he was too tired to move. "Stuff happens and sometimes we don't get to make sense of it ... the governor was trying to look out for us, he didn't think of the fallout."

"He used you," she hissed, the tears finally falling. "He took you away from us."

"It was to protect you," Steve said and groaned harshly as his body started to come back to life.

"Uncle Steve?"

Concern sliced her words heavily, hating seeing her uncle in evident pain. Still too young to understand, she wondered how he could be in a hospital bed, hooked up to so many wires and lines, but still be suffering.

"Grace?" Danny suddenly whispered. "What are yo-"

"Uncle Steve's awake and in pain," she said, squeezing her uncle's hand.

"Steve!" he said, manoeuvring as quickly as he could from the couch he was sleeping on with Charlie.

"Hey Danno," Steve said softly, his voice tinged with pain.

"Hey Babe, I know your internal body clock is shot to pieces compared to the rest of us mere mortals, but you could've given us a few more hours shut eye."

"Sorry," Steve whispered, swallowing harshly around the lump forming in his throat. "You're all still here..."

"Is that a question or an observation, Super SEAL?" Danny asked, leaning a little further over the railing of the bed. "Where else would we be?"

There was a shift in Steve's eyes. Something so swift and quick that Danny almost missed it. Had he blinked he would've, too, but he caught it, the look of desolation that was smothered with relief.

"We've got nowhere else to go," he remarked, placing a reassuring hand on Steve's arm. "Now get some more sleep. You look wasted."

"Yeah, I feel like shit," Steve swore and then gave an apologetic look to Grace. "You'll have to chuck a dollar in the jar."

"Hey," Danny started while Grace giggled. "Stop, I think we can allow you a free pass."

"Thanks," Steve appreciated. "Pretty sure I don't even have my wallet right now."

He rubbed his brow - the pulse ox clipped to his finger bushing his skin, the IV in the back of his hand snagging - hoping to unknot the confusion washing through him alongside the nausea. When it didn't work, he dropped his hand down onto the bed, spent from the small movements.

"Good morning, Commander," the nurse said stepping in, her tone soft and considerate to those still sleeping around the room. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," he said and tried to shift, but groaned. "That hurt."

"Try not to move too much. You had surgery to remove a bullet and repair damage to your leg." Her tone was soft, her smile softer. "You're due some meds, so let's get you resting properly."

"Okay," Steve managed as she left his side. "How long?"

"Pardon?" Danny asked leaning heavily on the bed rail. "How long what?"

Steve knew Danny knew what he was yearning for most.

"Want that beer," Steve murmured, offering Danny a loopy grin. "So, how long until I can leave?"

"You're unbelievable, y'know that?" Danny snarled, no malice to his harsh words. "What part of you had surgery to remove a bullet and repair damage to your leg did you not understand?"

"I understood they removed a bullet and repaired damage to my leg, Danno," Steve mastered, his eyes dropping. "Don't want to be here."

If he was honest, he could feel panic rising at being back in the same hospital that kickstarted the end of his life because he was sure he was in Queens again.

"Want to go home."

"I'm sure that's not quite true," the nurse said, re-entering the room, medication in hand. "Because when your meds fully wear off, you'll be begging me to do my job."

Danny snickered.

"You've clearly never had the privilege of caring for this nut case."

"I haven't, but I have heard stories," she mentioned, giving Steve a small sympathetic smile. "But just know, Commander, I run this ship, and on my watch, we'll keep you as comfortable as possible." She went about administering the drugs, not bothered by Danny and Grace's watchful eyes. "I've added an antiemetic to your IV to help with the nausea before it kicks in, but let that and the pain meds work and sleep. It's the best thing for you right now." She watched Steve nod slightly, his eyes screwing up as he evidently triggered his headache to ramp up. "Anything else you need?"

"No," Steve said, gulping dryly as his eyes went from Danny to Grace, spotting Charlie asleep in the background. "I'm good. Thanks."

"Okay, good." The nurse smiled warmly, tapping his hand. "Anything you need just push the call button and I'll be in. We'll be doing concussion checks through the night, but you're a lot more lucid this time."

"I am?" he asked, confused.

"Yeah, you were quite out of it before, Babe," Danny notified him.

"Sleepy now," Steve admitted.

"Then sleep," the nurse coerced. "Make sure he rests, please. You've been quite the help since he was brought up."

"We'll make sure he does," Grace said, grinning. "He'll listen to one of us."

Danny was watching Steve, his eyes already a half mast, getting heavier as the seconds ticked by and thanked the nurse before she left.

"Shit," Steve suddenly mumbled. "Franklin?"

The prior threat hit him full throttle and he tried to get up. He knew nothing after making it to the hospital, but he knew he hadn't neutralised the threat to his family - and suddenly he felt the need to do just that.

Pushing himself clumsily up, was not an easy feat, but while Franklin still breathed, his family wasn't safe.

"Uncle Steve! Stop!" Grace gasped.

"Hey, whoa, calm down... your blood pressure needs to not be through the roof." Danny held him down, pushing him down against the mattress and pillows. "He's locked up and looking a little battered." Danny watched Steve trying to focus through the lines of pain on his face. One by one the meds started to loosen them. "Wanted to file an assault charge, if you could believe that."

"I bet he did," Steve said, feeling the drugs meddling with the aftereffects of anaesthesia. "You guys should go home," he mumbled as the pain meds cooled his veins. "If it's safe… go home."

"Uncle Steve, you're being silly," Grace said softly. "We are home."

"She's right, Babe, we're all good here, so rest and we'll be here when you wake up."

Gulping convulsively, Steve nodded before murmuring "'kay."

Grace watched Steve fall asleep and while his hand loosened its grip on hers, she didn't relent.

"You okay, Monkey?"

"Am now," she replied, giving Danny the first real smile in too long. Slowly glancing up, she sighed. "Everything's going to be okay now."

"You know what, Gracie, I think you're right."