A/N: Dementia relatives provide enough content to fill a War-and-Peace sized novel, and then some. Whether it's stealing dentures or resorting to a fist-fight (because they've forgotten how to talk things out like adults), Grandma still has the best stories. She just doesn't realize it.

…

"Uh oh." One look at the black scowl on Steve's face was all Danny needed. "I'm not even going to ask."

"Good. Don't." Steve threw his crutches into the back and wrenched open the side door.

"So… not going back tomorrow?"

"No." Steve dropped into the passenger seat and stared darkly out the window. Danny noted with concern that he didn't even demand to drive.

Starting the car, Danny pulled away from the drab, grey nursing home and turned onto the Pali Highway. As they climbed into the mist above the Koolau Range, Steve continued to look at the window, refusing to meet Danny's eye. Jaw set firmly, he sat in stubborn silence all the way through the tunnels.

Finally, they broke out of the clouds and into the sunshine above Honolulu. Danny cast a glance at Steve. "Okay… What happened?"

"What happened to not asking?" Steve snapped.

"Geez. Look, I just… I mean, how bad could it be? Did you lose a patient?"

"Yeah, actually. You got a problem with that?"

"Oh!" Feeling suddenly guilty, Danny flushed. "I had no idea. I'm sorry, babe." He hesitated, unsure how to proceed. "Was it expected? Was he- or she- were they sick?"

"What?" Realization dawning, Steve shook his head. "No, Danny, he didn't die. I actually lost him. He got away."

"Oh…Wait. What?!"

"Yeah." Steve stuffed his hands into his oversized cargo pockets, ears coloring in embarrassment. "Me, a Navy SEAL who chased down international terrorists, I lost a geriatric patient."

Danny tried very hard to look concerned and not smirk. "How'd it happen?"

"Dunno," Steve responded dully. "If I knew that, I'd be going back tomorrow."

"But they found him, right?"

"No."

"No?"

"They're still out searching."

"And you didn't stay to help?!"

"You think I didn't try, Danny? I wanted to help. But they sent me home."

"Oh." That explained the phone call to 'please come pick up Mr. McGarrett at your earliest convenience.'

Steve slouched in the passenger seat with a scowl on his face. "I didn't even know a 97-year-old in a wheelchair could go that fast."

…

"I'm curious, Commander: how do you do it?"

"Sir?" Steve asked tersely.

The governor of Hawaii leaned back in his office chair and looked Steve over with a critical eye. "How do you run down international arms dealers and keep these islands safe, but can't seem to chase down a single, wheelchair-bound, 97-year-old, dementia patient?"

"To be fair, sir, I am on crutches." It was the only defense Steve had left at this point.

Denning was not amused. "You aren't making a good case for being back on field duty, Commander."

"Just… one more day, sir." Steve tried to not sound like he was begging. "Just give me one more day."

"Oh, you'll be doing more than one day. As far as the paperwork is concerned, you haven't even begun to meet the requirements of the disciplinary action that we agreed upon. But you aren't going back to the nursing home- they won't have you. I don't know where you're going… I suppose I could bribe some desperate soup kitchen to let you try ladlelling soup, but-" he shook a finger in Steve's face, "if I get a call, a text, anything, about you tomorrow… I don't care if the FBI's top 10 walk in and start waving guns around, you ignore it and serve soup. Got it?"

"Yes sir."