Kinipopo peku

By Sym64 and Cokie316

Author's Notes Sym: Throw an idea at Cokie and she is game. Love that about her. And since a few of you had asked us to sit down again and write another story together… well, how could we disappoint our readers? I hope you like what we came up with. We would both be thrilled if you'd take the time to let us know.

Author's Notes Cokie: When Pa'ani went off the air, my first thought was, Well, that certainly isn't over! That ending just screamed for an addendum. So… here it is. :-) Our version of what might have happened. Just to clear up matters and ease your mind, I do not own any of these characters and I'm pretty sure Sam doesn't either. It isn't for lack of trying though. :-)

Both our thanks go to Sherry57 for a really quick and as always fabulous grammar check! And to Sockie1000 for a quickly turned-around beta check! Thanks to both of you!

~~~H50~~~

"Argh..." Steve knew the second the ball left his hand that something in his shoulder had given way. Question was… how serious was it? The pain was increasing by the minute, but he was sure the shoulder was not dislocated again.

"Damn."

"Danny's actually got pretty good hands," Catherine said with a grin while watching Danny running to the end zone.

"You know, if his legs could move as fast as his mouth, he could play in the NFL. Aah."

Steve bent over, trying to relieve some of the pressure from his arm and shoulder, pressing his fingers into the area of most intense pain.

"Hey, are you OK?" Catherine asked, knowing immediately he wasn't.

"Yeah," he told her even though he knew she could see right through him. He continued to watch Danny dancing around at the goal line, until he finally added "I gotta go see a doctor."

"Did you hurt it when you just threw the ball?" she asked.

"Ahh, well, not exactly. The reason we missed the game is because I was in the emergency room." Steve stood back up, trying to rotate his shoulder as the throbbing continued.

"The ER? What happened? Are you OK?" She alternated between watching Danny in the end zone and checking Steve up and down for hidden injuries.

"Yeah, I, ah, dislocated my shoulder and the doc had to pop it back in."

Catherine's head whipped back and she glared at him, her voice rising. "And you thought throwing a football was a *smart* thing to do?"

"Well, I..." He grimaced again as another sharp pain traveled from his neck down to his fingertips. "Doesn't seem so smart now," he mumbled.

Danny returned with a contented smile on his face. "Want to do it again?" he asked, holding the football out to Steve.

Steve reached for the ball, but before he could take it from Danny, Catherine intervened and snatched it away. "Don't even think about it," she muttered. "You've just been sidelined, Buster."

"What's wrong?" Danny asked, looking more closely at his partner. "And why do you look like you've been sucking on dill pickles?"

"I sort of hurt my arm with that pass," Steve admitted.

"You said the Doc said it was 'back to normal'," Danny shot back. "You, looking like this? Doesn't look normal to me!"

"Maybe he meant the shoulder was 'back in place'," Catherine added, rubbing her hand up and down Steve's uninjured arm. "But that doesn't mean you should play ball." She gave his arm a little shake to make him look her in the eyes while her tone of voice let Steve know she was not pleased. "Didn't he give you any paperwork with 'dos and don'ts' or tell you what not to do?"

"He said no swimming," Steve said, remembering his doctor telling him something along that line. "I didn't think one toss of the ball would hurt anything."

"Well, I guess you just guessed wrong, didn't you? Come on, let's go have it looked at," Catherine said, grabbing his left hand. "Our time here is over anyway."

"I don't really need a doctor," Steve whined. "I was just joking."

"Yeah, well, the look on your face doesn't look like a joke, Partner. And I don't think she will take 'no' for an answer," Danny added, pointing to Catherine. "You want to come with me or take your chances with her?"

"Neither. This is really a waste of time."

"And we'll let the doctor decide that, won't we?" Catherine asked him sweetly while tugging him off the field. "Now let's go."

~~~H50~~~

The doctor stood outside the exam room reading the chart. "Nurse, this is an old file. I just saw Commander McGarrett two hours ago."

Nurse Jaime Carson pointed into the exam room. "Take a look, Sir… apparently this is Visit #2 for the day."

Dr. Keahi entered the room. "Commander? What's up? Thought we took care of your arm."

"Well, it sort of… I'm not sure what happened, but my arm and fingers are kind of tingly and my shoulder really hurts," Steve admitted, ignoring the look Cath gave him for pretending earlier that it wasn't hurting much at all. Seeing the questioning look on Keahi's face he added quickly, "not like it did earlier, but something different."

Keahi set down the chart and reached for a pair of gloves. "Can you take off your shirt, please?" He glanced at Catherine and grinned. "I like your shirt. Everybody likes the Cowboys, don't they?"

She grinned at him. "I thought so, too, but apparently everyone in this room doesn't. Just don't get him started," she muttered.

Steve was trying to remove his shirt and realized he couldn't raise his right arm. Catherine stepped in and helped him remove his left arm from the sleeve, then pulled the green shirt over his head and down his right arm trying not to jostle it.

The doctor watched and re-read the chart. "Are you having difficulty raising your arm?"

"Um, yeah."

"OK," Catherine said, staring at Steve. "Enough of this. Since you won't tell him what's wrong, I will." She turned to the doctor and said, "He threw a football after the game today and immediately doubled over from the pain. Only after that did he mention that his shoulder had just been put back into its socket."

The doctor's fingers felt along the shoulder while he watched his patient's face. Steve jumped when the probing fingers reached a particularly sore spot. He stopped and made a note in the chart, then reached for Steve's hand. "Can you feel your fingers?"

"Yeah, they're sort of tingly though."

"Any total numbness?" he asked, while touching spots on Steve's wrist and arm.

"Not really. Just kind of." Steve felt like a child sent to the principal's office, trying to justify his actions.

Dr. Keahi went to the doorway and called Jaime back to the room, whispering something to her. He then opened the drawer of one of the white cabinets and pulled something out. "OK, I want you to look at your lady friend there," he told Steve.

Steve made a face, but did as he was asked and stared at Catherine, who smiled, trying to see what the doctor was doing.

"Can you feel that?" he asked, sticking the back of Steve's arm with a needle.

"Yeah."

"Sharp or dull?"

"Sharp."

The doctor moved to Steve's wrist and placed the top of his ink pen on his arm. "How about that?"

"Not… dull, I guess."

The needle was placed at the base of his thumb and Steve didn't register it. "Anything there?"

"Where?" he turned back and looked at the doctor.

"Look away. Let me do it again." He placed the needle on his thumb again. "Anything?"

"It all feels like pins and needles," Steve admitted as Jaime came into the room.

The doctor reached for an ice cube from her. "Can you identify this?" he asked, rubbing the ice over Steve's fingers.

"Yeah, cold."

"OK, good." He tossed the ice in the sink and picked up his ink pen once again. "I'll do an MRI, but my guess is that you pinched a nerve in your shoulder when you raised your arm to throw the ball. I will assume that (a) you did not read the information I handed you earlier today, or (b) you read it and decided to disregard it."

"Um… information?" Steve asked, definitely not looking at Catherine.

Keahi nodded. "You know, the papers I gave you with aftercare for your shoulder?"

"Oh, that. Well, I was on a case, and didn't really get around to reading it."

"Do you even know where it is?" Catherine asked, daggers beginning to shoot from her eyes again.

"Yeah, it's on Danny's backse—" He took one look at her face and decided to just shut up.

"Earlier, you assured me you didn't need a sling for your arm," the doctor said. "This time, you do. I'll get an icepack while you're waiting for the MRI. They'll come get you soon."

"Thank you, doctor," Catherine told him.

"Yeah, thanks," Steve said under his breath.

~~~H50~~~

"Do I have to go in there?"

"Well, it is your house," Catherine pointed out.

"Yeah, but sometimes, it is really crowded in there," Steve replied while climbing out of the Corvette… a task that wasn't easy with his right arm fastened tightly to his body.

Catherine came around the car and once more offered a helping hand. "Well, you assured me once that she didn't bite. Let's just remember that. I'll order Chinese for dinner and maybe we can call it an early night because you need to 'rest'."

Steve grinned. "An early night might be good."

"Well, remember, I know the doctor's orders. 'Nothing strenuous, no lifting and wear the sling for 48 hours'; his exact words."

"That's not gonna happen," Steve said under his breath.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

Steve shook his head and grinned. "I'm sure we can figure out the details later," Steve promised, opening the front door. The first floor was quiet and Steve breathed a sigh of relief as they went to the kitchen to get something to drink.

"Do you want a soda or a Longboard?"

"Soda's good," Catherine replied. "Wow, something smells good in here."

He shut the refrigerator door and saw his mother standing in the doorway, surprise on her face.

"Don't get all worked up, Mom. It's not a big deal. Just a pinched nerve." Steve said before she could even utter a word.

Catherine rolled her eyes at him as she walked into the next room to answer her ringing phone.

Doris crossed her arms and stared at her son. "Funny, being wrapped in a sling, looks like a big deal to me. What did the doctor say?"

"Nothing. Just rest it for a day or so and it will be as good as new."

Catherine returned in time to hear his explanation. "Really, Steve? You wanna play it like this?"

Steve shook his head at her and grumbled something unintelligible.

"Steven, what did the doctor say? What is wrong with your arm?"

"It's a pinched nerve. Really, it's nothing." He sighed and then glared at Catherine who glared right back.

"Ouch," Doris commiserated. "But I detect that there is more?"

"It. Is. Fine." Steve tried again.

"No exercise, no activity, no lifting; wear the sling. Ice it for 15 minutes every couple of hours for 48 hours, then begin going without the sling for a couple hours at a time and begin using heat on it," Catherine rattled off and turned to Steve. "See, aren't you glad I listened to the doctor?"

"Ecstatic," he deadpanned.

"Well, you should be," Doris said. "Apparently you need someone to take care of you."

"OK, stop! I don't need anyone to take care of me. I'm fine. It's just a pinched nerve. Believe me I've had worse. Now, can we just drop it?"

"It's dropped," Doris said, turning to check the stove. "I'm cooking dinner so I'm glad you two are here," she said over her shoulder. "And Catherine, I love your Cowboys shirt. Isn't that team the greatest?"

Catherine beamed, sticking out her tongue at Steve as she watched him roll his eyes. "Well, I think so," she replied. "But…dinner. I – ah," she began, and then moved closer to Steve. "I've sort of got some bad news."

"What's wrong?" Steve asked, reaching down and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear with his left hand, then letting his hand rest on her neck.

"The phone call. I've just been called back to base. I have to be there in an hour."

Steve's face fell. "An hour? That's not enough time—"

"Catherine, please don't worry about my son. I assure you I will take extremely good care of him."

"Oh, no," he argued. "I said I was fine. Don't need anyone taking 'care' of anything."

"Nonsense, Honey. With that sling you can't do much. I bet you can't even take off your own shirt. Now while I'm sure you would much rather have Catherine's help, I assure you I know what to do."

She opened the freezer and sorted through the frozen vegetables. "Here you go, sit down and put some peas on your shoulder."

Steve looked pleadingly at Cath who mouthed I'm sorry to him. She took the peas and nodded toward the living room. "Here, I'll get you settled before I go."

"Don't want to 'settle' anywhere," he pouted. "I'm going outside." He went to the double door leading to the lanai and stood there, trying to open it with his left hand. Frustration was evident in every move he made.

"Hey," Catherine whispered as she opened the door. "I really am sorry, but I can't get out of this."

"Yeah, and I'm left here with… her."

"Steve, she is your mother."

"If you say so."

"I do say so. And you need to learn to play nice. Can I have a kiss before I go?"

He sighed. Loudly. "I'm gonna miss you." He tugged her closer. "Sort of had plans for tonight."

"Miss you, too." She leaned in for a kiss. "Now, I can't stay longer. Have to run by my apartment before I get to base."

"How long will you be gone?"

She shook her head, holding onto his hand. "Not sure – it is something on base. Hopefully just a meeting, but I'll call you when I can, OK?"

"This sucks big time."

"I know it does. And I swear I'll make it up to you. Now, here are your peas. Use them before they thaw."

He gave her another kiss and then plopped into a chair and slapped the peas against his shoulder. "Ow," he said with a grimace.

"Silly," she whispered, while running her hand through his hair. She leaned down for one last kiss on his forehead. "Don't hate me for this."

"Hate you for what?"

Catherine stood in the doorway and called Doris. When she came outside, Catherine quickly spoke, "Doris, he didn't tell you the full story. Steve was at the ER this morning before the game because he dislocated his shoulder. He got that fixed and then tossed a football this afternoon and pinched the nerve." Without looking back, she said, "Gotta run," and then raced through the house.

Doris leaned against the open door. "Anything else?" she asked, one eyebrow quirked upward.

Steve's head clunked back on the wooden chair. "That about covers it," he admitted, removing the bag of peas.

Doris took the peas and put them back on his shoulder. "The doctor said 15 minutes. It has been barely five."

"Yes, ma'am," he grumbled, closing his eyes, resigned to the torture he was sure to receive.

~~~H50~~~

"Company, Steve," Doris told him as she opened the door to the lanai. "Danny's here."

He remained still, his head leaning back against the chaise, soggy peas still on his throbbing shoulder. The cold had only numbed part of the pain, not that he would ever admit of hurting to someone other than Catherine. And even that he only did reluctantly.

"Where the heck is your phone, Steven? I've called like four times."

"Five."

"OK, five. Wait. What? You just weren't answering? What if it had been an emergency?"

Steve opened his eyes and glared at his partner. "Was it?"

"Well, Catherine called and told me she had to leave, so I brought some Longboards," he replied, holding up the six-pack. "Thought maybe I'd share, but now I'm not so sure."

"Steven, where is your phone?" Doris asked.

He sighed and leaned his head back against the lounge. "It's in my pocket," he finally admitted.

"And you just decided to not answer?" Danny asked again.

"Danny, I'm guessing it is in his right pocket and he can't reach it. And Commander-I-Can-Do-It-Myself is too proud to ask his mother for help," Doris said while grabbing the half-thawed peas and turning to go into the house.

"I always keep it in the left pocket, but Catherine had it when I went to the MRI and she stuffed it back in the wrong pocket," Steve explained why he didn't answer his phone.

"Ah. I see." Danny grinned at Steve's predicament. "Doris, can he have a beer or is he on pain meds?"

Steve quickly sat up and reached for a beer, suppressing a groan at the pain the action caused. "Do not ask my mother for permission. Now give me one of those."

Danny grinned and removed the cap from two of the bottles. "Want one, Doris?" Danny had promised himself to be nicer to Steve's mom; maybe this was a good opportunity to start with it, he thought as he waited for her answer.

"No, I'm good," she replied. "Dinner is almost done and I've got a great wine to go with that. You boys drink a beer and then go wash your hands…. Or hand, as the case may be."

"Ha. Ha." Steve replied. "Very juvenile, Mother."

Danny almost spit out a mouthful of liquid. When he could speak, he said, "I thought it was pretty good. You don't mind if I stay for dinner? Because something in there really smells good."

"It is good and I made plenty. You can't just make a small amount of lasagna."

"Now I know why my mouth is already watering," Danny replied. "My favorite!"

Ten minutes later they sat at the table and Steve was loath to admit it, but his mouth was also watering from the smell emanating from the kitchen. He had fond memories of his mom's lasagna. Steve took in the huge lasagna setting in the middle of the table, the bowl of salad beside it, two large loaves of buttered French bread, and… peas.

"MOM! You cooked the peas I was wearing a few minutes ago? That's just gross!"

"Settle down, Silly. Those are fresh peas I bought from the open market this morning and shelled myself. I did not use your bag of soggy peas; that one is back in the freezer for you to use again," she told him while dishing lasagna on his plate. She then cut a huge slice for Danny before sitting down and reaching for the salad bowl.

Steve picked up his fork and Danny asked, "You need any help over there, Lefty?"

Steve managed to hold onto the fork with one finger in the air.

"Steven!"

He ignored both of them and took a bite of lasagna and savored it. "This is good," he finally admitted.

"Thank you, but be nicer to your partner."

"Yeah, be nice to me," Danny added.

"You started it," Steve whined.

"Oh, good grief, would you two just shut up and eat?" Doris pleaded.

Several minutes later, Danny took a sip of his wine and leaned back in his chair. "Doris, I have to say that your lasagna rivals my Nonna's. And her lasagna is the best in all of Jersey."

"Thank you, Danny. I appreciate that."

Steve nodded. "It is as good as I remembered," he quietly said.

Doris smiled at him. "I'm glad you liked it."

Danny swirled the last of his wine in his glass. "So, was your son always as klutzy as he is now?"

"I am not a klutz!" Steve argued.

"You dislocated your shoulder by jumping over an escalator. How the hell did you do that?" Danny shot back.

"I don't know… it just happened."

Danny turned to Doris and smiled. "Like I said, a klutz. Right, Doris?"

"Mom…" Steve's voice held a warning.

"Danny, I will say he had his moments," she admitted. "Mostly just boy stuff, but after he began playing football, I don't think I had a single fingernail that hadn't been chewed to the quick. Watching your son getting pounded into the ground is not my idea of a Friday night filled with fun."

"I was tackled, not pounded," Steve replied. "There is a difference."

Doris smiled at him. "Not from a mother's point of view."

Danny glanced at his watch and then stood. "Hey, sorry for leaving like this, but I need to get going. Grace is supposed to call at eight. I'm helping her with some homework tonight so I need to get home. Doris, thank you for the best dinner I've had in a while."

"You're welcome, Daniel. I'm glad you liked it."

"Loved it. And just think… not a pineapple in sight. I'm surprised Steve made it through the meal," he teased his partner.

"Get out of here, Danno. See you in the morning."

"Ah… you supposed to work?" Danny asked in surprise.

"Doc didn't say otherwise. So I'm working."

"Desk duty only," Doris and Danny said together.

Steve tossed his napkin on the table. "Whatever. Pick me up?"

"Yeah, sure. See ya."

"If you come home with so much as a paper cut tomorrow, I'm calling Catherine," Doris threatened.

Steve rolled his eyes, but was saved by the buzzing of his telephone.

"Stand up," Doris ordered. "Let's get the phone." In a quick move, she had it out of his pocket before he could even think of what she was doing.

He glanced at the display. "It's Cath," he said, turning to go to the lanai while answering. "Hey!"

"Hey, yourself, Commander. How are you?"

"I'm good. Mom made some awesome lasagna. I think she was going to save you some."

"Aww. Well, I'm stuck here until tomorrow night at the earliest."

"What's up there?"

"Not much. Just some uppity-ups from DC coming to base. Apparently we are on the 'meet and greet' committee."

"And SECNAV coming to town is more important than taking care of me?" Steve asked, the whine returning to his voice.

"Oh. So, now you're injured, huh? A minute ago, you were 'good'."

"But you could make me better," he suggested with a grin and even though she couldn't see it, she just knew it was charming…

~~~H50~~~

Steve came into the house an hour later, after finally hanging up the phone. He found his mom in the living room, reading a book while the TV was turned down low.

She glanced up and asked, "Catherine coming back tonight?"

"No, she's stuck there all day tomorrow," he replied, sitting down in the chair, shaking his head when she offered him the remote.

"I'm not watching it, so you can change the channel."

"Nah, I'm going to take a shower," he told her. Standing, he said, "I'll see you in the morning. Thanks again for the good dinner."

"Good night, Honey," she told him as he trudged up the stairs. "Do you need any help?"

He turned and looked at her like she had grown another head. "Seriously? I think I can manage. But thanks."

Ten minutes later, Steve was stomping back down the steps. His wrist was out of its restraint but the cuff around his biceps was firmly in place, as was the strap over his shoulder and the band around his chest.

Doris glanced up and smiled at him, swearing she could see steam coming from his ears.

He stopped in front of her and turned around. "Would you please get me out of this… torture device? And stop laughing!"

Doris stifled her smile. "I'm not laughing," she assured him as she stood up. "Here, I'll get it."

"I can hear laughing."

She grinned again. "Really, I'm not."

Steve pouted and sighed. "Yes, you are." And then he tried to hold in his own snicker of laughter.

Doris tried to keep a straight face. She was an operative… and a good one at that. Surely she could keep from laughing at a strategic time such as this. But his snicker opened the dam and she couldn't hold back.

And she laughed as the hated sling fell away.

Steve turned around and tried to glare. But it was a hopeless cause and he laughed with her.

Doris wiped her eyes and asked, "Honey, do you hate me so much that you can't even ask for help?"

Steve stared at her, his smile suddenly gone. "I don't hate you," he replied in a low voice.

"Then what was this? Just macho guy stuff where you can't even ask for help when you need it?"

Steve thought for a moment and then shook his head. "I don't know. It's just… I've had to learn to fend for myself. It's just easier than asking for help, I guess."

Doris reached for the hem of his shirt. "Well, now you have a good team… good friends to help you. A girlfriend who adores you, and, if you'll accept it, you have me, too." She raised the shirt and he pulled out his uninjured arm. "And I promise that I won't smother you." She placed her hand on his shoulder, adding, "But, Steve, I am here if you ever need me." Doris pulled the shirt off his head and then eased it down over his injured shoulder and smiled. "Like right now."

Steve took the shirt and sheepishly said, "Thanks," surprised when Doris reached out and touched a spot on the left side of his chest. She traced the small, barely noticeable white scar, then looked up at him.

"This is what I was thinking about when I told Danny you got pounded into the ground playing football," she explained. "It scared me half to death."

Steve shrugged, and grimaced when he moved his right shoulder. "I don't really remember much about that night." He took his shirt from her and sat back down in the chair when she took her seat on the couch. "I know Billy Stinson tackled me, but I don't even remember much of being in the hospital."

"A concussion can do that to you. And you were so young. Steve, I know you will think I'm being silly, but I just had this intuition thing going on and I knew something was going to happen. I tried so hard to talk your dad out of letting you play. But you wanted it so much…"

McGarrett Home, Friday Morning

October 1991

Doris McGarrett looked at her two children playing in the water close to the shore. She watched her son helping his little sister as she tried to stand on the surfboard. There were almost no waves this morning, so it was safe for them to do this by themselves. Stevie was a very good swimmer, and was getting really good on the surfboard. Mary hadn't shown any interest in surfing or swimming until a few weeks ago. She had always been gung ho for swimming in the pool, and her dad had often taken her, but she had been afraid of the ocean.

At first Stevie had been annoyed that his little sister suddenly wanted to tag along when he went to Mamo for another surf lesson, and had complained loudly about having to watch his sister. But after a while he had accepted that it was his job as the big brother to watch out for her. So he did. He had always been very protective of her, only when he was about twelve did he start to sneak out without her. Doing 'big boy stuff' little sisters had no business witnessing.

Doris had to smile thinking about that one morning a couple of years ago when he came to her to tell her that he was almost a grown up now, and couldn't be bothered to watch his little sister anymore. He had his most serious face on, and it took all her willpower not to laugh as her barely twelve year old son wanted to have a serious discussion with her.

She turned away from the scene and settled down at the table on the lanai, joining her husband who was hidden behind his morning paper.

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't think this a good idea. We should wait and talk to the coach again," Doris told her husband. And not for the first time. She kept trying to get him to understand her reasoning.

"Honey," John McGarrett said after he put his paper down and looked at his wife. "We have talked about this for weeks now. This is a great day for Steve. Please let it rest. Trust me, trust his coach, Steve is ready for this."

"But he is only fourteen, John."

"Doris, he is not your little Stevie anymore. He is a junior now," he told her with a sigh. "He will always be one of the youngest since he skipped a year. But he is doing fine."

"You don't get it, John. This is not about his school work. I know he can breeze through high school and can hold his own against the older kids. This is about him playing quarterback in a team where everyone is at least two years older than he is. Have you seen some of the linebackers he has to face?" Doris asked her husband. "I just don't want my little boy being run over by a guy who has fifty pounds on him.

"Doris, we don't even know if he is going to play. He is second after Thomas, Steve might not even play tonight," John tried to calm his wife down. He himself was also a little worried about Steve playing with the 'big boys'.

When Steve had started high school everyone knew that he was almost two years younger than most of them. It had been a surprise when his coach called to tell them that he wanted Steve to play for the varsity team. They had talked to coach Benson in length about the dangers. Steve was still a lightweight; he was already close to six feet, but he lacked in body mass. And John was just as concerned as Doris that their son might get hurt in a tough tackle.

But after a while it dawned on him that the way Steve went about everything he did, with his all or nothing mentality, it was always a high possibility that he might get hurt, no matter what team he played. So after a few meetings and watching his son train with the older boys, he gave his okay.

Steve's coach told John that if he would play like in training, it would not be a year that he would shatter every single record the various players held at the school.

"I just think he should play in his own age group."

"What? You want to punish him for being an exceptional talent and take the opportunity to play during his senior year from him? Doris, next year he will be in his last year. If he doesn't play this year, he won't at all."

"I know." Of course Doris knew that Steve had great talent, everyone was constantly telling her that. And she was happy for her son, he already had the first college offers on the table, which he wasn't interested in at all. And she knew if he didn't play now, it would be extremely hard for him to make it into the team when he would be a senior next year. It was just that she was worried because he was so much younger than the others.

"It will be fine, trust me." John smiled at his wife, and it would be only twelve hours later that he wished he had listened to his wife.

~~~H50~~~

Steve McGarrett looked at his jersey with the number 50 printed in bold white letters on the red fabric. It would be the first time that he would play in a Friday night's game. This would be his first real game. Sure he had played for years now, and everyone told him he was really good. But playing with the seniors was very different. And he had the bruises to prove it.

After he showed his teammates that he could really throw a ball, they started to become very protective of him. They tried their best to shield him from any tackles by the opposing team. But of course football was a full contact sport, and Steve had eaten quite a lot of dirt. Not just in practice but also during his short stints in the games.

This night though was different. It was a Friday night's game, Steve thought with excitement. The stadium would be packed and if they won the game, they would be well on their way to the championship. The coach said that he would most likely play since Thomas had a problem with his arm… an inflammation in his elbow, or something like that. They all hoped he could play, but it wasn't looking too good. So Steve was up for his first full game.

"Hey, you nervous?" Randy asked him. Randy was his left tackle and was guarding his blind side. That meant he was responsible for preventing Steve from getting tackled from behind when he threw the ball.

"Yeah," Steve admitted and fidgeted with his protective gear.

"Hey, is that new?"

"Uh huh," Steve said noncommittally. He was slightly blushing thinking back to his mom taking him shopping to the sports store. Buying him a new cup. He had wanted to die of embarrassment that day. She thought it was perfectly normal to take your son to buy that sort of equipment. Thankfully the clerk understood his predicament and engaged her in a lengthy discussion while he could slip away and find what he was looking for.

"Steve, don't worry too much, I'll keep the guys off your back." Randy smiled at him.

"Have you seen Billy? He's grown a foot since Junior High." Steve said and shuddered a little thinking about the massive outside linebacker whose job it was to ram Steve into the ground. Preferably before he was able to get the ball going.

"Hey, man, and what am I?" Randy said in mock outrage. "I'll block you, don't worry. I won't let him through."

Steve grinned at his friend who had at least 30 pounds on him but was almost a head shorter. Not to mention two years older and in his last year of high school. "I'm counting on that."

"Trust me, I have no intention of facing your mother and having to answer her question about why I didn't protect her Stevie," Randy teased him.

"God, don't remind me." Another situation where his mother had embarrassed him, when she picked him up after practice and called him Stevie for all to hear. His mom was so clueless at times, but he loved her anyway.

"Are your folks here?"

"Yeah, just listen for the ones screaming the loudest," Steve told him smiling.

"Will do. Get your gear on, we're expected to be out in ten minutes, and you're not even dressed." Randy shook his head at Steve, but knew that his friend was really nervous about playing tonight.

Everyone would be looking at him. The youngest quarterback playing for the varsity team. It was a lot of pressure, but he knew that his young friend could handle it. "Come on, the coach is waiting."

Steve looked up and for the first time registered the buzz around him. There were all the other players getting ready, making a lot of noise. It was the typical chaos before the game when almost 30 boys aged from 14 to 18 were getting dressed for a game. It was for sure not a quiet affair.

"Okay. Hey," Steve called out to his friend who was just leaving. "Thanks, Randy."

"Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up, you don't wanna be late for your first game."

~~~H50~~~

Steve looked around and saw his teammates looking back at him. They all had encouraging smiles on their faces. This was their last chance to win the game. They only had ten seconds left on the clock and they were four points behind. They needed a touchdown to win.

It had been a great game; Steve had thrown three touchdown passes, made one run that ended with a touchdown and many short passes that gave them first downs. But the opposing team was really great tonight, and their own defense wasn't having a good day. So Kukui trailed behind and only a touchdown could pave their way to the championship.

Steve was looking a little nervously across to Billy, who had tried his best to get to him, but so far Randy had blocked every single attempt. He knew that Billy was fuming and that he would give his very last to get to him this time.

They were now on position and everyone knew what was going to happen. Everyone knew that only a pass would give them a chance for a touchdown. They were still 30 yards from the end zone, no way would they manage to get there with a short pass and a run.

So, the only goal the opposing team now had was to keep Steve from throwing that damn ball. The plan was for Steve to run a few yards back and then throw the ball to his wide receiver who hopefully had managed to get to a free position. It would be a good 40 yard pass, but Steve knew he could easily do that if he had enough time.

Everything ran smoothly, Steve hung back, made out his target and threw the ball. And then time seemed to stop. He felt the impact into his left side, felt himself being lifted into the air and smashed into the ground. He was lying on his stomach and blinked a few times to clear his vision and figure out what had just happened. The only thing he saw was the green grass right in front of his face. Sound around him kind of faded out and the green was suddenly turning to gray.

Steve tried to lift his head, away from the grass, but he felt so tired. And it was so hard to keep his eyes open. Breathing was really hard too; it felt like an elephant was sitting on his back. Someone was calling him, he felt a hand on his back, but he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He wanted to ask if they had won, but he couldn't get the words out.

And suddenly there was no sound, no feeling, no anything anymore. That was when Steve gave in to the darkness that had been calling him the last minute.

Doris shook her head and looked at Steve who was watching closely as she shared her memories. She gave him a smile and said, "I thought I was going to die."

"The last thing I remember is the huddle and planning the Hail Mary," Steve told her. "I can't even remember throwing the pass."

Doris nodded to his shoulder and grinned. "Apparently throwing passes gets you in trouble every time."

"I had a lot of good passes, thank you very much!" he argued.

"Yes, you did. And I have to admit… I did love watching you out there when I could get over my fear. But… well, that night wasn't the best. I was watching and when you didn't get up…"

Doris looked at her husband and could see how proud he was of their son, who was now standing among his teammates, getting ready for their last play. She herself was proud of him. He had played a great game, and she was so happy for him. After the first quarter she had relaxed a little more, after seeing how protective his guards had been. So far there had been no real tackle, and she was glad that it would be over in a few seconds. She knew that she was being kind of silly, after all her son was playing football. A tackle was a normal thing to happen, but all day she had been nervous. It was not just that Steve was so much younger than all the others. She just felt that something would happen.

But thankfully that feeling was probably just what every mother felt when they looked at the field and realized that their little boy suddenly wasn't so little anymore.

She watched the play, just like everyone else, but other than most, her eyes stayed on her boy after he threw the pass to his wide receiver in the end zone; his fourth touchdown pass of the night. And her eyes were still on her son when her heart stopped.

The ball had just left Steve's hand when one of the opposing linebackers outran Randy and smashed into his side. She watched in horror how Steve was lifted into the air before he came crashing down onto the field and was buried under the huge guy who rammed her son into the ground.

She had a clear view of her unmoving son, and was waiting for him to get up. To shake his head and run over to celebrate the winning touchdown with his friends. But nothing of the sort happened. He lay absolutely still. She watched in horror as the coach was suddenly running onto the field. That was when she also hastily made her way down the bleachers and onto the field, closely followed by her husband and daughter.

"Stevie!"

Steve groaned. "Mom! You called me 'Stevie' again? You know how much I hated that name!"

"Well, forgive me, OK?" she shot back. "I was a tiny bit upset and it was over 20 years ago, so I don't think it matters much!"

"Yeah, but everyone laughed at it."

"Trust me, they weren't laughing that night…

John McGarrett looked at his wife, and was a little shocked at what he saw. His wife never lost it. She had always been the calm one. Calm and collected. That was Doris. Always. Not so now. She was not quite in hysterics, but not far from it.

Sure, he was upset too. Who wouldn't be after seeing their son being strapped onto a backboard, and still being unconscious? When the EMTs arrived they carefully put a neck brace on Steve before they turned him over and secured him on the backboard. They quickly inserted an IV and checked all kind of things before they lifted him onto the stretcher, backboard and all. And all the time Steve didn't even so much as twitch. He was completely out of it.

His wife was watching what they were doing to their son, and John felt with her. It was not easy to see him so utterly still. Just a few minutes ago he was a happy teen having the time of his life, and now he might be seriously injured. Maybe with an injury that would change his life forever.

One second in time might have consequences for the rest of his life. John looked over to Billy, who went to junior high with Steve, standing nearby and who looked devastated.

"Son, it's not your fault," he told the young man when he stepped closer.

"I'm so sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to hurt Steve," Billy looked with huge eyes at him and then back to the injured player.

"It's okay. You were just doing your job." John didn't know what else to say. As much as he wanted to blame someone, Billy was surely not the one to address. He didn't do anything wrong. It was a normal tackle, just with an unfortunate outcome.

"Sir, we're ready to go. We're taking him to Kapi' Olani, they have a pediatric ER. You know how to get there?" One of the EMTs asked John as they got ready to carry Steve to the waiting ambulance.

"Yes, of course." John had been at the Children's hospital many times for cases, and both of his children were born there. "Can my wife ride in the ambulance?"

"Sure, no problem," Tom answered.

"Daddy, why isn't Steve waking up?" John looked down at his daughter whose hand he had been holding since they came down onto the field.

"He will be, Sweetie. Your brother will be fine, don't worry."

John watched his son and wife disappear into the ambulance and made his way to his car, to join the rest of his family at the Hospital.

"I don't remember any of that," Steve admitted.

"You remembered parts of it after you woke up, but with the concussion and after anesthesia, I'm sure the memories faded," Doris explained. "But even after we got you to the hospital, you still weren't finished scaring me."

Steve felt slightly sick, and there was a terrible taste in his mouth. And something was itching under his nose. And there was something pulling at his chest, and it was kind of hurting. But not really.

Steve felt a little confused about all the things he was feeling right now. His head hurt, and there was not just a pulling sensation in his chest but also in his groin. Eww, there was a tube coming out of his… what the heck? Steve let his hand explore further upward and felt a bandage and another tube sticking in his side.

He tried to open his eyes, but even that little task felt like a monumental effort. His whole body felt really heavy and he was so very tired. He tried to remember what had happened. He knew that he had played in the Friday night's game and that they only had about ten seconds left to get the winning touchdown.

He also remembered that he threw the ball, but after that his memory was a bit hazy. He couldn't even remember if the ball had reached its target. Since he had no memory of what happened after he threw the ball he also had no idea why he was now lying in a hospital bed.

"Stevie?" He heard his mom calling to him and taking his hand.

"Mommy?" Steve croaked out, using a term for his mom he hadn't used in a few years.

"Steve, can you open your eyes for me?"

Steve listened to his mom and tried to do what she asked of him, but was not able to do so. All his effort caused was that his head started to hurt really badly.

He couldn't suppress a groan and grabbed on to his mom's hand.

"Sweetie, the doctor will be here any minute and he'll give you something for the pain. Can you hear me, Steve?"

Steve felt his mother leaning over him and gently kissing his forehead. Normally he would object to that kind of affection, but right now he was really happy to have his mom close by.

"Hmm."

"Stevie, please open your eyes."

Steve again tried opening his eyes and this time he had a little more success.

His vision was blurry, but slowly the distorted blob in front of him morphed into his mother's smiling face.

"Mom, did we win?" It was the first thought that popped into Steve's head, remembering his pass.

His mother couldn't help but laugh, even though it was more of a choked sob.

"Yes, Sweetie, you won."

"Good," Steve said as his eyes closed again. He heard his mother talking to someone who had come into the room. But Steve was too tired to care who it was. Just being awake for that short while had exhausted him.

The voices slowly faded out, and not even a minute later he was back to sleep.

~~~H50~~~

"Is he okay?" Doris McGarrett asked Dr. Dickson.

"Yes, don't worry, some kids need a little longer to shake the anesthesia," Steve's doctor assured Doris. "He is doing fine. The surgery was only minimally invasive, and we'll take the tube out in a couple of days."

"He seemed to be in pain. I think his head is hurting."

"Yes, but that is to be expected with a concussion. Your son was very lucky." Doc Dickson raised his hand to stop Doris from objecting. "Steven has three broken ribs and one of them pierced his lower left lobe. But it didn't cause a pneumothorax right away. He was very lucky that his lung didn't collapse on the field."

"Will he have any long lasting effects from the injury?" Doris was worried that Steve would have to suffer some kind or ailment for the rest of his life.

"No, I highly doubt that. Steve is a healthy young man; he will bounce back from this rather quickly. We have to watch out for pneumonia; he won't want to take deep breaths because of the pain from the broken ribs. But he will get breathing therapy and I think the risk is not very high."

"What about the concussion?" Doris looked down at her sleeping son, who now slept so peacefully, "he was unconscious for so long…"

"No, he really wasn't, Mrs. McGarrett. He came around in the ER, but we sedated him for the surgery. It just took him a little longer to wake up from that, but that is not unusual. You really don't have to worry."

That was easier said than done, thought Doris, remembering what had happened in the ambulance. She had been scared to death when she saw her son struggle to take in air when a rib had torn into his lung tissue. Thankfully, they had been close to the hospital and as soon as they entered the ER, Steve had been whisked away, and she had been left behind not knowing how seriously injured her son had been.

"Thank you, Dr. Dickson, for all you've done," Doris said as she settled back into her chair next to Steve's bed. The chair she had not left in the last ten hours, ever since Steve had been transferred to this room. That was after he had spent a half hour in surgery and almost three hours in recovery. Now all she could do was wait for her little boy to wake up again. She had been surprised when he had called her mommy earlier, and she was sure as soon as he felt better she would never hear that term again. But for now she would sit at his bed, hold his hand and do whatever he needed to feel better.

"I did not call you 'mommy'! I was 14 years old!" Steve was mortified. And absolutely refused to believe any such thing.

"You most certainly did call me 'mommy'. Hey! You don't even remember any of that, so how would you even know?"

Steve shook his head. "That's embarrassing! Was anyone else in the room?"

"No one was there and I haven't told the story to anyone, so you can trust me," Doris assured her son with a smile.

Steve stood up. "But the most important thing was that we won the game!"

She stood as well. "Oh, really? My son gets pummeled into the ground and all that matters is that Kukui won the game?"

"Damn straight. And I do remember leaving the hospital," he recalled.

"Yeah, that was fun," Doris agreed. "I couldn't believe they surprised you like that."

Steve grinned. "I think the entire Kukui team was waiting there holding the winning ball, but even Billy Stinson and some of his friends showed up."

Doris smiled as well. "Don't forget the cheerleaders. I seem to recall you really liked seeing them, too," she teased. "Hey, you were planning a shower a half hour ago. Go do that and I'll get you some Tylenol and your bag of peas before you go to bed." Doris was well aware that her son was hurting. He tried to hide it, but she had seen him wincing with every move of his injured shoulder.

In a surprise move, Steve leaned over and gave her a smacky kiss on the cheek before heading to the stairs. "Thanks, Mommy," he called, glancing over his shoulder, a wide grin on his face.

"Smart ass," she replied, unable to hide her own smile. Maybe we had a small change in our relationship tonight. Doris thought that maybe something good had come out of Steve's injury after all.

~~~H50~~~