Higgins hadn't slept well. Honestly, she'd barely slept at all. Her hands kept prickling and her head kept aching. And when she had managed to drift off, it was only to wake up drenched in sweat and crying out. After the third time, when she had woken with her pillow twisted in her hands like it was an attacker, the swollen burns leaking from the freshly broken blisters, she had given up on the whole idea of sleeping. The water had stung, wringing tears from her eyes, but she was showered and dressed and working in the study before the clock struck three, choosing to ignore that she was wearing sweats because her hands hadn't been able to manage anything else.

She had tried to get a headstart on the timetable for the decorators she had, for reasons she could no longer think of, decided she absolutely needed. She'd managed to get as far as listing the rooms they would be redesigning before her laptop clicked and went dark. She blinked at the dead screen before looking down at the power cord where it was lying coiled up uselessly on the side of her desk. Of course. She hated using it when it was charging. It was all in her imagination, she knew, but she felt like it ran slower.

After she'd plugged the silly thing in, she had wandered off to the kitchen to make herself a coffee. Despite living in America for so long, she still preferred using a kettle rather than a coffee machine. So, naturally, she had nearly scalded her wrist over the steam as she moved her mug. Her fingers slipped on the handle as she jerked her hand away from the kettle spout and the mug, a birthday gift from Richard, bounced off the counter, split in half, and crashed to the floor. She had stared at the shards with something approaching heartbreak on her face.

Her eyes had slipped closed as the memory of her birthday, the last birthday she had spent with Richard, flooded into her mind. She had remembered the smile on his face as he had watched her rip the paper open. The way he had laughed at her when she had insisted on making hot drinks right then so she could use her gift.

She had nearly cried as she'd swept the sad remains of her mug off the floor, choosing to believe the tears were, once again, from the pain of the burns rather than the sudden rush of emotional pain that had nearly taken her breath away. She'd taken down another cup, even though she hadn't really wanted a coffee at that point, and missed the way one of the porcelain shards had embedded itself in the countertop until she'd cut the pad of her thumb open on it.

The freshly made coffee went down the sink, chased by the blood that had run freely from her already damaged hand. At least, she'd told herself, the pain in her thumb was a nice distraction from the grief.

Magnum had found her, hours later, and reminded her that they had a case, that they were late leaving.

"This might be the only chance we get this week," he'd said.

She hadn't even noticed that he was looking at her hands, too busy trying to hide the pain from him, wipe it off her face and erase it from her voice. She didn't see the way his eyes softened with sympathy even as his face darkened at the memory of her statement to Katsumoto, the clinical, detached way she had talked about the basement and the electrified fence.

"We really need to get going," was all he'd said, but, in the time it'd taken to say those six words, he'd come up with a plan.

He turned away from Higgins, noting as he did the way she grimaced as she stood, and sent a quick text to Rick, begging for help with the case. As Higgins started to walk towards the stairs, Magnum sent another text to Rick, a follow up to the first.

Higgy needs a break.

He waited nearly a minute for a reply, hoping Rick wasn't too busy to check his cell. Finally, as Magnum could hear Higgins' footsteps reaching her bedroom, his phone buzzed.

I bet she does. No problem.

Magnum typed out a thanks while heading to the kitchen, making a mental list of the supplies he would need. She'd been prescribed an ointment for the burns, and he knew she had a habit of popping medicines in a cupboard in the kitchen rather than taking them to her bathroom. Sure enough, the tube was sitting on the shelf along with some painkillers. Magnum grabbed them both, then started poking around in the other cupboards.

By the time he headed up the stairs to follow Higgins, he had his arms full. Which made knocking on her bedroom door a little awkward. He resorted to using his foot, tapping lightly with the toe of his shoe and hoping not to drop any of the things he was juggling.

"Higgy?" he called, after a few seconds had passed.

"I'll be right out, Magnum."

He waited for a while longer, listening for footsteps that would tell him that the door was about to be opened. The seconds dragged on and he was getting dangerously close to dropping something when he finally heard "oh just come in."

Opening the door wasn't exactly easy. He could have simply put everything down, but that would have meant picking it back up again and he wasn't entirely sure he could manage. It took some creative use of his knee, but he was rewarded with the click of the latch and stepped into an empty bedroom.

"I brought a few things up," he called in the direction of the partly ajar en suite door, not sure if he would be allowed to go in. After a few seconds of silence, he dropped everything onto the bed and moved to carefully push the door open. Higgins was sat in front of a mirror, a look of utter defeat on her face, her hands resting, palms up, on the table.

Magnum didn't even bother to say anything, just walked over and put his hand on her shoulder. He felt awful about what had happened to her, what she had gone through. Even though everyone, including Higgins, had told him it wasn't his fault, the guilt had been gnawing away at him. And now there was something definite he could do to help.

He waited for her to look up, meeting her gaze in the mirror, before offering a small smile, one that was full of sympathy.

"Gimme a second." He kept his voice quiet and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before walking back out to the bed and quickly sorting out the things he had brought up.

The two bottles of water he cracked open then put on the bedside table, along with the two breakfast bars and the pack of painkillers. Then he grabbed the ointment and headed back to Higgins, sure that he had seen cotton wool pads on the table in front of her.

"Thomas?"

She sounded so tired that Magnum was sure she would fall asleep given the chance regardless of the pain he was sure she was in.

Magnum just shushed her as he busied himself with the burn ointment, squeezing a small amount onto the palm of her right hand and using the cotton wool pad, folded in half, to gently massage it into the angry looking burns. Her left hand was no better, the burns weeping a little and the skin around them cracked and dry.

Higgins seemed happy not to talk, just sit in silence and watch, so Magnum stayed quiet too. He was glad, actually. Usually he quite enjoyed chattering, especially with someone who was able to keep up with his sarcastic streak, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to come up with anything more interesting than "I'm so sorry," and he'd already said that at Rick's the night before.

So he just stayed focused on the injured hands, made sure he wasn't using any more pressure than was needed, being careful not to get any threads from the pad stuck anywhere. He noticed a blister on her index finger that somehow hadn't burst and wondered if he should try to cover it. But he couldn't see any dressings anywhere. He was about to ask what the doctor had said about it when she spoke.

"I broke my mug." Her voice was matter of fact, almost emotionless, but her hands shook a little.

"I'll buy you a new one," Magnum promised. He didn't know for sure why the mug was so important, but he had his suspicions.

Anything further was forestalled by his cell suddenly bursting into life, buzzing and ringing, making him and Higgins both jump violently.

"You might need to get out here, buddy." Rick didn't bother with a greeting. "It, uh, kinda blew up in my face."

"You just had to tail the wife! How did it go wrong?"

Rick started to say something, but Magnum's attention was captured by the small smirk on Higgins' face. He moved his phone away from his mouth and raised an eyebrow at her.

"I appreciate the help, Thomas. But I think maybe you need to go and save our business from Rick." She was openly grinning, doubtless remembering the last time poor Rick had 'helped' with a case by pretending to be Magnum. "I'll be fine now."

And she really meant it. She felt better, less… whatever it was she had felt when she had first dragged herself out of bed that morning. Her hands didn't hurt as much, the tension that had been lingering in the back of her neck had eased off, and she was pretty sure she would get some sleep when Magnum left.

The dark blue mug with a picture of a large paw print on it that was sitting on the counter when she woke up and went back downstairs was just the icing on the cake.