That evening, the team gathered at Steve's so that Danny and Jax could be caught up on the situation. Danny had commandeered the recliner, while Jax stubbornly insisted on staying mobile, with a crutch tucked under her good arm.
"So, U.S. Marshals?" Danny pondered, shifting a bit to try to get comfortable.
"They are the agency responsible for escaped prisoners," Chin explained. "Wasn't who we were expecting, but they claimed jurisdiction and I'm not sure that anyone really wanted to fight them for it. They will have an entire team here in a few days."
"Who's taking point?" Jax asked.
"Joint cooperation; however, Five-O needs to be free to address other urgent cases as the need arises," explained Steve. He was reluctant to share jurisdiction - but he had to admit, it made sense.
"Here are the files that Marshal Alesha Shelton brought in," Grover said, pulling out two manila folders and handing one to Danny. He held on to the other one and raised an eyebrow at Jax. "I will hand you your file, when you sit down and stop pacing around."
Jax mumbled something about 'once a captain always a captain', but sat down in the corner of the sofa near Danny. She and Danny glanced through the paperwork.
"Okay," Danny narrated, "We have Sang Min unaccounted for - no surprise there. I've never met someone more opportunistic. Declan Novak, who obviously orchestrated this whole thing; although I thought he was out for revenge, not escape - either way, he's clearly nuts. Kevin Mahelona, our prison guard turned criminal."
"This fourth guy," Jax said, holding up a paper. "Was he part of yesterday's fiasco? Martin Lassiter, who was being held in maximum security, for eleven counts of kidnapping and murder. Doesn't sound familiar."
"As far as we know, he had nothing to do with Novak, although of course we can't rule it out," Steve said. "We think he just saw the opportunity to escape and took it."
"Keep reading his file; it gets weirder," Kono said grimly.
Jax and Danny read silently while the others watched them expectantly.
"Holy shit," Danny exclaimed in disgust.
"What . . . oh . . . oh that's just wrong," Jax said shaking her head as she caught up to Danny. "Dismemberment? Killing fields?"
"It's believed he kidnapped and murdered his victims on several of the islands, then cut up their bodies and dumped them on Kahoolawe," Steve said.
"Kahoolawe?" Jax asked.
"The smallest island, uninhabited," Chin explained. "Only forty five square miles."
"And still scattered with live explosives. The military used the island for training," Kono added.
"So, we have an international arms dealer, a rogue prison guard who has no issue turning against law enforcement, and a serial killer presumably roaming on Oahu? Armed and dangerous?" Jax asked, incredulous.
"And Sang Min," Danny sighed. "Don't forget Sang Min."
"Yeah," Steve said, running his hand through his hair. "Try to get some rest tonight, guys; I have a feeling the next few weeks are going to be really interesting."
#*#*#*#*#
After the rest of the team left, Steve helped Danny settled in the guest room.
"You're sure you don't want us to sleep down here, Danny?" Jax asked for the tenth time. "We don't mind, really. What if you need pain meds? What if you pop a stitch?"
"I can get my own medication," Danny said. "And if I pop a stitch I will send you a text message."
"Okay, if you're sure," Steve said dubiously, lingering outside the guest room door as Jax made her way down the hall toward the stairs, thumping along gamely with her crutch.
"Positive," Danny said, nodding emphatically. "I still need brain bleach for the image of you being 'creative', Stephen, I don't need the audio clip to go with it."
Steve grinned. "Ok, Danny, but you shoot me a text if you need anything at all, got it?" He turned and caught up to Jax at the foot of the stairs.
"What is Danny rambling about?" she asked, poking at the bottom stair with her crutch and looking up the staircase as if it were a puzzle to solve.
"You don't remember explaining to Danny that we, um, get creative . . . you know, working around injuries and stitches?" Steve teased, wrapping one of Jax's wayward curls around his finger.
"Working around - oh. OH. Oh dear Lord," Jax laughed. "When I was doped up? No, I don't remember. Poor Danny."
"Yeah, poor - wait, stop, what are you trying to do?" He easily wrestled the crutch out of her hand and set it aside.
"I was thinking of going upstairs," she replied, arching an eyebrow at him.
"Oh, I think that's a great idea," he said, tracing the backs of his fingers over a bruise on her jaw. "Did Mahelona hit you?"
"Nah, that has to be from falling down the stairs," she said. "Speaking of stairs . . . " she tried reaching for her crutch.
"Crutches and stairs don't mix," Steve said, as he bent and gently tucked an arm under her knees, and one under her shoulders, lifting her, carefully avoiding her fresh stitches.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, wincing as the stitches on her arm pulled. A quiet grunt of pain escaped Steve; he'd been so distracted with Danny and Jax, and then the briefing with the US Marshal, that he'd all but forgotten his badly bruised shoulder.
"Am I that heavy?" Jax teased. "I'll lay off the loco moco."
"Hardly," Steve said, nudging the bedroom door open with his foot. He placed Jax carefully on her feet, making sure she had her balance before letting go of her. She caught him wincing again before he could school his features.
"Okay, sailor, off," she said, tugging on the hem of his shirt. He was clearly hiding an injury and she was having none of it.
Steve smirked. "Aye, aye, ma'am."
"Oh for crying out loud," she said, rolling her eyes. "You're obviously hurt, I want to see."
"Hmm, how many times did you use that line on your patients?" he teased, reaching a hand back and grabbing the neck of his tshirt and pulling it forward over his head in one smooth motion. It didn't matter how many times Jax saw that particular move . . . it always made her knees a tiny bit wobbly. The shirt went sailing in the general direction of the hamper. Even in the low light of the bedroom lamp, Jax could see the dark purple bruise on the top of Steve's shoulder, extending down toward the intricate tattoo on his bicep. Her fingers probed gently, prompting a hiss of pain.
"Sorry," she murmured. "When did this happen? Did you get this checked out? And your collarbone is swollen, it's at least strained," she added, her fingers delicately tracing over his shoulder, across his collarbone, and then trailing up his neck to cup his jaw.
Steve's eyes darkened in response to her gentle touch, and his hand slid into her hair, tangling in her curls and turning her face up to his. Bending, he kissed her, carefully at first, and then when he was sure that he wasn't hurting her, much, much less carefully.
"You didn't answer my question," she observed, several minutes later, when she reluctantly pulled away for much-needed oxygen. Damn Steve and his Navy SEAL lung capacity.
"What was the question?" Steve murmured, as he kissed the bruise on her jaw, and then the one on her cheek. There was a particularly nasty bruise forming under an angry looking scrape on her wrist, and he turned her hand over gently to brush his lips across it.
Jax shivered. "What question?" she asked, losing her train of thought completely. Since her clothes, as usual, had been completely thrashed, she'd worn scrubs home from the hospital, and the v-neckline revealed the perfectly fist-shaped bruise high on her sternum.
Steve touched the darkening bruise reverently. "Your heart stopped," he whispered. "It just . . . stopped. You flat-lined. Danny and I were watching, and it just stopped."
"I know," she said. "But Gibson started it again."
"Scared the shit out of me, and I knew what he was doing," Steve said. "Does it hurt?" he asked, bending and pressing a kiss to the bruise.
"Not as . . . oh . . . not as much as compressions would have," she answered breathlessly.
Her scrubs and Steve's cargo pants joined the pile of clothes reasonably close to the hamper. He found several more bruises to kiss better as he helped her gingerly ease her aching body onto the mattress. . . she'd fallen unhindered down a flight of stairs, and while her vest had provided protection for her ribs, the other points of impact were colorful. His hand ghosted over the bandage on her thigh, and he caught a glimpse of a strange expression on her face.
"What is it?" he asked, brushing her hair away from her eyes.
She shrugged. "I won't be able to swim until the stitches come out," she hedged.
His hazel eyes stared straight into her. "You want to try that again?" he asked, not buying her answer.
"Do you think my board shorts will cover the scar?" she asked, looking down. "Never mind, that's stupid."
He tucked his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up to look in her eyes. "It's not stupid, ku'uipo. Malia called plastics in for both you and Danny, remember, so I'm sure the scar will be faint. And I do think board shorts will cover it, which will be good while it's healing completely, so it won't get sunburned. But Jax," he said earnestly, "trust me when I tell you that when you're on the beach, no one is looking at your scars."
She blushed and smiled, as he traced over the scars on her sides and then finally the one on her hip. "I happen to love this particular scar the most," he continued, "because you let me take care of this the first week you came to the island. I couldn't believe that you trusted me enough, after all you'd been through."
He pulled away reluctantly and she made a sound of protest.
"Danny didn't make any stupid rules," she pointed out. "Where are you going?"
"Danny's stupid rules aside," he said, "you're bruised all over and stitched up in two places."
"So? Be creative." She grinned at him wickedly.
Creative? Oh hell yes, his brain chimed in, and for once, Steve didn't feel the need to ignore or contradict his subconscious.
When he woke up the next morning, Steve smiled, realizing that Jax had slept soundly through the night, her head cradled on his uninjured shoulder. Granted, she'd taken her prescribed sleep and pain medication, but when she did have a night of uninterrupted, pleasant sleep, he always liked to think that he had at least a little something to do with it. He checked his phone and sighed. It was a good thing they'd had a decent night's sleep - the governor had already emailed to ask about the search for the four men missing from the Halawa fiasco, and Steve had absolutely no idea what to tell her. It was going to be a long day.
#*#*#*#*#
A/N: This story line will definitely be continued! I need to do a little research on the US Marshal service, and I'm going to work a bit on Skeletons and maybe one other one-shot that is nibbling like a plot bunny at the corners of my mind. Thanks for all the reviews and messages!