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

Notes: Thanks to ALL of you and to the guests I can't reply to. Love all your encouraging feedback. The muse is seeing a chapter 3 now ... caveats apply re proper medical protocol ... methods,etc. Not a doctor and morphing universes and reality to suit the fiction that this is! I don't have a posting schedule per se ... but soon ...

H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O

When Steve next opened his eyes, he was flat on his back and staring up into Danny's worried face. It was disturbingly familiar.

"Steve?"

He was awake and yet Danny's voice was tinny and far away, lurking just out of reach. Squinting upwards, Danny's face was at first blurred to him but Steve felt Danny's fingers roaming idly through his hair. Danny's other hand was wrapped around Steve's fingers in a vise-like grip held firmly against his chest. Instinctively, Steve squeezed Danny's hand trying to half-heartedly communicate that he was okay even if he probably wasn't. Especially since Dr. Morris was taking up all of Steve's airspace on his opposite side.

"H'pnd?" Steve mouthed, confused when Danny choked out an incomprehensible sound and then leaned down to spontaneously kiss his forehead.

"Please tell me that you're not going to throw up on this pair of shoes," Danny said, trying to smile despite the fear in his eyes. "It's my last pair ... and the only pair I have with me. I really don't want to walk out of here barefoot, Steven."

"C'hrlie?" Steve croaked softly, wondering what the heck had happened to his voice. He swallowed hard as his stomach threatened to twist and then tried speaking again, faring much better on this attempt. "Scared him?" Worried now that he'd frightened the boy, he tried to sit up and failed as Danny held him down. "He okay?"

"No, no, no. Stay where you are, okay? Charlie's fine you big goof," Danny said, glancing over his shoulder to a spot in the room where Steve couldn't quite see. Steve could see that Danny was alarmed though. Though his voice was steady, Danny's eyes were wide as he divided his attention between watching Morris, Steve and his son. "He's right here ... you were only out for a few seconds and I don't think he noticed anything at all. He's here and okay. It's you we're worried about so just let Dr. Morris figure things out all right?"

"Steve? How are you doing - what just happened? Can you tell me how you're feeling now?" Dr. Morris interrupted, coming into the picture by Steve's opposite shoulder. "Are you dizzy? Any nausea? Any issues with your vision?"

"H'long?" Steve whispered instead. He tried to sit up again, but this time two pairs of hands kept him in place.

"Hospital?" Danny asked the doctor, completely talking over Steve.

"No hospital," Steve objected. He tried to get up again and Danny barely glanced at him. His fist was mired in Steve's tee-shirt though as he focused on the doctor. Ready to pull the plug on this so-called checkup and follow through on what he'd wanted to do from the onset of this little escapade, Danny's body was tense and he was practically strong-arming Steve's chest.

"Danny ... stop over-reacting," Steve said as calmly as he could, getting nowhere at all as Danny merely took a stronger hold on his shirt. "Let me up, buddy."

"Are you insane? Stay down! Doc? Should we get him over to the hospital?" Danny simultaneously ordered Steve and questioned the doctor. "Yes?" Danny was clearly on board for hauling Steve to the hospital right that very minute and only waiting for Dr. Morris's say-so. He was also clearly taking a risk at scaring his son who Steve could now sense off to the side and likely paying rapt attention.

"Danny, he's listening," Steve whispered when he caught a glimpse of that shock of bright blond hair, slightly mollified when he realized that Danny knew that already. Of course he would know that.

"Doc?" Danny pressed as Morris completed a check of Steve's vitals. With a start, Steve realized that he hadn't even noticed when Morris had had the time to wrap a blood pressure cuff around his bicep or snap a pulse-oximeter onto one of his fingers. Yet, there it all was ... he sighed and lay back limply when the room - and the gurney - had the gall to shift under his back. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly before forcing them back open as Morris seemed to mull over if a trip to the hospital might be indeed on the docket.

"You're dizzy," she astutely confirmed, her brow furrowed in concentration now. "Sick? Feeling nauseous? How's your vision?"

"No! M'fine ... just give me a minute ... please," Steve said, forcing his voice to be low and even. "How long was I out for Doc?" It didn't seem fair that Danny's fingers could be rubbing such gentle circles through his hair and yet he could also sound so angry with him. It was as if Danny's fingers weren't attached to his facial expressions or his general mood which seemed to be bordering on the frenetic. None of it was fair at all as Steve fought his own urges to tuck his head deeper into Danny's hand as he found a particularly comforting spot.

"Oh that's ripe! Here we go ... don't you dare try to change the subject," Danny said just as quietly but in no uncertain terms, definitely angry, as Steve automatically played down what had happened to him. Again. Steve glowered at him, confused about how Danny could divorce his fingers from his voice. How could he be so damnably caring ...and then wind up angry with him?

"I'm not changing anything," Steve objected incapable of hiding his discomfort when his stomach painfully rolled. He breathed in, then out, gaining a small win as his stomach settled and aware that Morris was astutely watching him.

"I'm asking the doctor in the room a question of which, by the way, I am not going to the damned hospital, Daniel," he insisted as Morris tutted over him.

"You will if she says so!" Danny hissed back. "Besides, the doctor asked you a question first! A couple of them in fact!"

"Both of you just take it easy," Morris stated calmly. "To answer your question first, Steve, you were out about forty-five seconds. Less than a minute." She paused and then frowned, thinking to herself. She surprised Steve with her slow supposition.

"Listen, I know you're both concerned about that larger issue we're monitoring. But I don't think we need to over-react just yet. Especially since Steve's latest check-ups have indicated no reason for alarm. So here's a new thought: I know that we've had some rough weather lately and Steve ... keeping you out of the water is likely beating a dead duck."

"Beating a what?" Danny blurted. He looked at the doctor, eyes wide in disbelief, before barking out a laugh. Steve scowled at the sound knowing what it often preceded. Danny was barely holding his emotions in check.

"Did you say ... duck?"

"I swear," Steve muttered bleakly, vainly trying to find a better place for his partner to land as Danny's worry for him only continued to sky-rocket. "The things that you hear and focus on defy normalcy. Let the doctor finish talking!" He also sensed Charlie squirming in the chair he'd apparently been told to stay so the adults could talk. But the conflicting energy was entrenched in the room. They both needed to calm down.

"Me? You didn't even answer her damned questions! It's a damned good thing that you can't trip off a gurney, too! And you - you of all people - are bring up normalcy? You want to talk about normalcy?" Danny groused at him, the rant growing exponentially now. One hand flew over Steve's body, indicating that bringing Danny down was going to be nigh near impossible until Morris - or someone with a valid medical degree - proved that Steve was going to be fine.

"We haven't had a normal day in our life ...," Danny continued to complain until Steve found himself accidentally interrupting him to finish the sentence.

"Our life ... together?" Steve repeated so so softly, that he was sure only Danny heard him. For a minute, Steve forgot about his queasy stomach and sense of vertigo which made the gurney feel as if it might be moving under his back. The turn of phrase was odd though; even more strange that Steve had hit the nail on the head and that it felt - right. If it were possible, Danny's eyes managed to widen even more before he glanced away. He stared at the far wall while heaving in a few settling lungfuls of air. When he looked back, he was under control again. Just barely.

"Shut up," Danny muttered under his breath. He blinked and then knuckled the space between his eyes as hard as he could, the pinched marks he left behind on his skin were briefly white. "Just shut up and listen to the doctor, will you? Please?"

"Are you both done now?" Morris took the opportunity to ask. She was still smiling, so that was a plus at least. Even reassuring. She'd folded her arms though, foot tapping loudly now on the linoleum floor; she understood they were both upset but was still finding some amusement in their antics. Nonetheless, she was definitely wanting to have their undivided attention now.

"Good. I had another patient come in earlier this morning with similar symptoms," she explained. "A surfer. And I'm just wondering - I have a feeling and I'm looking for commonalities - and Steve, I know you're quite the swimmer. So this might be more straight forward than any of us might be thinking."

He frowned, nodding through that uncomfortable flux of nausea, cognizant that Danny's hand was back to gently cupping the top of his head. Despite how good those sturdy fingers felt, Steve sighed for the ongoing worried level of attention. The gestures, words and tone were all bluff for Danny's stress.

"Yeah, so I've been swimming almost every day this week," Steve offered. "Nothing happened ..."

"But where?" Morris asked. "There were a number of warnings posted after the storms we've had."

"Storms? I stick to my place for the most part," Steve objected, his frown deepening when Doctor Morris rolled her eyes because she thought he'd catch on more quickly to her train of thought. He was evidently missing the point that this home could be quite close to the more public beaches reporting issues. Run-off. Contaminants. He vaguely remembered be cognizant of the warnings. Most postings were up on the common swimming or surfing spots. Warning people off until the period passed and the ocean waters naturally cleared. Obviously, contamination could spread and he'd not thought it out well enough. Anything was possible and he harrumphed loudly before sinking back onto the exam room table. It was Danny though who quickly put two and two together and more correctly verbalized Morris's point since Steve was in denial and plus had never, in his life, even remotely had to worry about catching an illness.

"So what you're saying is because of the changes in his immune system ... the anti-rejection meds for the liver transplant ...the other thing. All of if," Danny said, asking the doctor if his assumption about what she was implying then was spot on. "He's more susceptible to catching something - and this could be proof of that risk we've been warned about? So, seriously, this could be nothing more than an infection? A treatable infection?"

"Yes, maybe a very treatable infection and ... I'd like to pursue this a bit with you both," Morris confirmed. "The surfer ... he was just in this morning so it's fresh in my mind. His symptoms were very similar and the guy had been sick a month ago, just generally run down. And for Steve, with his recent medical history? Well, it's making sense to me in conjunction with the postings for high bacterial advisories."

"An infection?" Steve asked not knowing how to take that bit of news. Danny's fingers were now rapidly rubbing through his hair, nearly scratching his scalp. His fingers were rough but it felt good though, almost calming.

"Vestibulitis. An inflammation of your inner ear .. more than likely caused by a viral infection," she explained. "It's wholly possible. The inflammation disrupts your balance. Vertigo, dizziness, and difficulties with vision - even with hearing - any one of these or a combination of them could all indicate a viral infection. A neuritis will absolutely cause vertigo resulting in nausea ... "

"I've never had to worry about this before," Steve said petulantly. "I swim all the time." He was thinking about what she was saying though; crunching through it mentally and in all honesty, beginning to feel relieved. An infection could be healed and dealt with. An occurrence - a real occurrence - of what his exposure to uranium might cause despite the fast care and other precautions? Not so much.

"Well," Morris soothed. "I know, Steve. But you need to be more cautious now until your immune system has a chance to recover. It's an unhappy fact, but you're going to be potentially subject to certain viruses or bacterial infections until your immune system strengthens. Like Danny just said, you both know that already; I'm not telling you anything new. The advisory for the posted beaches was specific - Mother Nature has her own plans though and these things travel. You know that there are potentially harmful microorganisms in the waters after the storms we've had and with the flux in run-off. Reports included the presence of bacteria, viruses, protozoa, and even the potential for parasites in the water and the tides are always strong."

He nodded in slow agreement. He hadn't missed a day of swimming in, well, since the storms had cleared out. He'd all but ignored the posted reports. Unlike Danny, he'd remained wholly ignorant, whether it be intentional or not, as to the new demands placed on his recovering system. If Morris was right, then Steve could be getting off easy.

"How do you feel?" She asked as she busiest herself with his vitals. "It's obvious to me that you're dizzy; nauseous. You're still pale and heart rate is elevated ... blood pressure is slightly elevated as well, but nothing to write home about with the bit of stress you've just had. We might be able to avoid the hospital if I can validate my theory ... run a few simple tests ... make a few calls."

"I have to go," Danny suddenly muttered under his breath. "Be right back ... I, uh..."

"Danny?" Steve started to say and then stopped, his voice petering out. Next to him Danny was fidgeting badly. His fingers were stilling their warm, patterned march through his hair and then that gentle touch was gone. Danny pulled out of Steve's hand and then backed up a step or two. Confused and losing his train of thought, Steve really looked at him. Danny's eyes were a glossy, pale and he seemed unnerved; the only word Steve could put to the odd expression until he realized that Danny might be on the verge of a panic attack.

"I'll be right back," he repeated. Danny half turned beckoning his son to his side and then took up Charlie's hand. "Talk to Dr. Morris. You talk to her and you tell her everything," Danny stated adamantly. "Everything, Steven. I mean it." Despite the ferocity of his words, his voice sounded thin, almost weedy. He kept backing up, nearly dragging Charlie with him and not giving a chance for Steve to say a thing to him.

"I need to take Charlie to the bathroom ... need to, uh, take him. He has to ... to go. So, so ... I'll be back; in a minute or two."

Then he was gone out the door. The last thing Steve saw was Charlie's equally confused expression as the boy was tugged along behind his father. Steve might have been distracted about his own care; lamely arguing his case with Danny for a time. Yet he was sure of one thing: Charlie hadn't asked for a damned thing. Steve opened his mouth to call after them, but it was too late and just like that ... Steve was alone.

When he had no recourse but to look at Doctor Morris, Steve noticed another thing: there was a coy tilt to her eyebrow and an interesting gleam in her eye.

~ to be continued ~