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

Notes: RL is still busy ... thanks for your patience; we're there now with this story! I've fallen behind with getting back to many of you and I'm sorry about that. I have a series of business meetings already lined up for this week, so my apologies as that lapse will have to continue. As for the below with Ponch and a reference to Todd ... early on in my first stories with him as an OC, it was briefly mentioned that Ellen was his second wife. His first left him with full custody of their son. Ergo, the reference to Todd.

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Chapter Seventeen

"Uncle Steve? Where's Uncle Danny?"

"What? Ow!" Steve startled awake from a light doze to find Becca by his bedside. "Ow! Shi ... Becca!" He jarred his leg and his rather inelegantly hissed reply proved the spark of pain which radiated into his hip bone. He automatically bit his tongue to prevent what he wanted to say about the painful burn as Becca's eyes bore worriedly into his own. Behind her, and already looking chagrined, Ellen placed her hands on her niece's shoulders, poised to leave as quickly as they'd showed up.

"She was too fast for me and I didn't have a chance to head her off," Ellen apologized. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were sleeping, Steve. We'll come back later so you can rest."

"No, no. It's all good," Steve said as he gestured to the dog-eared magazines which littered the bed. "You should both stay." One magazine was tented over a knee, pages furled and crinkled. Bored, he'd only closed his eyes for a few minutes before their unexpected arrival. His response was entirely truthful as he gently fidgeted to a better position. "I was only resting my eyes."

"Are you okay?" Becca asked. She was on his right side, warily gauging the intravenous line and how stiffly he was laying in bed. It was all especially scary since she'd been there the first time when the bad men had trapped them. Now, she'd been told particular bits and pieces of what had happened next at Steve's own house. Danny had gotten hurt again and so had Steve in protecting him with her Uncle Ponch.

Eyes pooling as if she might cry too soon, Becca looked at the second empty bed. "And Uncle Danny ... is he okay, too? Where is he?" Afraid to smile for any number of reasons, she was entirely serious and her usual exuberant self was incredibly forlorn.

"Yeah, I'm good and so's Danny," Steve said to lessen some of her fears, his smile more relaxed as the ache in his leg lessened to a duller roar. He tapped her nose with one finger, trying to make her smile but was confused when she barely managed to lift one side of her mouth. She was very upset then and it was more apparent that her single-minded goal continued to be related to her father's plans. With a glance to Ellen, Steve nodded before turning his attention towards the little girl, encouraging her to climb up and sit next to his side. Evidently there was no time like the present.

"I think we have a lot to talk about though. Is that right?" He chuffed a quizzical sound when Becca nodded, her head down and her long hair hiding part of her face. She played with her own fingers until he took her hand to stop the nervous movements.

"Rebecca does want to talk to you. Alone if okay," Ellen confirmed, her head cocked though while she measured his complexion and the tiredness which creased his eyes. "But maybe now isn't such a good time. You look tired. Do you need anything?"

"I'm seriously fine," he assured Ellen before looking towards Danny''s empty bed and frowning in thought. Danny had improved greatly but he didn't much like the tone of things; his friend's general attitude was nearly as unreadable and subdued as little Rebecca's.

"He's not back yet?" Steve fumbled for the remote, his thumb simultaneously raising the head of his own bed a little higher. He'd lost track of time, but it seemed as if his friend had been gone for a very long time. However, he could only shrug as he smiled warmly to both of his visitors. "Danny decided he needed to take a walk and make a phone call or two. I'm sure he'll be back soon. Regardless, we can talk a bit now ... it's fine. Really."

Without looking at her aunt, Becca didn't move a single muscle. She'd already asked if she could talk to Steve alone. Privately. And so, fighting another bout of tears, she waited for the two adults to agree. Behind her, she felt her aunt shift her feet and then both her shoulders were gently squeezed, providing all the permission she needed. Then, the instant where Ellen left her with Steve, Becca's eyes were indeed filling with tears, one daring to escape much too soon. Even though her father had missed the flight to Los Angeles because of some mistake at the airport, things were far too fresh and she didn't trust that he'd make plans to go again.

"I don't want to leave," Becca blurted softly. "He keeps talking about this stupid job ... and more money ... and taking care of me better."

"He only wants the best for you," Steve insisted, his comment instantly wrong as Becca's face crumbled further. He scowled at himself knowing that the little girl had heard that at least one thousand times before. She wanted more - valid reasons she could understand in her young eleven year old mind - and with all his heart, Steve suddenly wished Danny had been there to help with better words.

Uncertain of what to do or say, Steve was quiet for a long moment, until he made the oddest of choices. Selecting his words carefully, he shared something that very few knew. "When I was a little bit older than you, my father made a decision I didn't like too much," he said. "Something happened ... something bad when I was in high school. My mom sort of ... left ... like yours. After she left, my dad was desperate to take care of me and my sister."

He watched as Rebecca's ears seemed to perk up at this change in conversation. She waited respectfully, hanging on to every word. "Well, right in the middle of my sophomore year, he sent me and my sister away to live on the mainland ... without him. He stayed here to work because he felt he had to protect us."

"Alone?" Becca asked, her voice literally quaking at the thought. "He sent you away ... alone?"

"Yeah, and it was scary because we didn't have a choice. My sister stayed with family ... and I was sent to a military boarding school for my last two years of high school," Steve added, an old internal sense of unease kindling inside his stomach as he remembered those terrible times. "I made some good friends and really ... it wasn't all that bad in the end." Steve inwardly winced at the white-lies as he strongly edited his comments to cut to the key parts, half of him arguing internally with himself as to how to keep his comparison relevant to the eleven year old.

"After everything was said and done, my sister stayed in California to live with our aunt. I went on to the Naval Academy and finally I came back here ... home ... eventually. But it was hard at first ... really really hard, Becca. And at the time, we both hated it ... we didn't understand why our dad felt he had to make that decision. We missed each other .. and him ... a lot. When we were older, we found out that he hated to have to make that choice for us, too. It split up our family and was ... well, we were all unhappy for a very long time. But it was the right thing to do at the time ... and it all worked out for the best.

"I want to stay with my dad," she whispered sadly as she tried hard to figure out what Steve meant. Leaving was bad enough, but being sent away without her father would be ten times worse. The idea was beyond terrifying. "But I want to stay here, too. With Aunt Ellen and Uncle Ponch. Why can't we just stay here?"

"I know you do, sweetie," Steve gently replied. "I guess what I'm saying is that you have to trust your father to make the right decision even if you don't like or understand it today; you might hate it and you might not understand it until you're much older. But Becca, this is a super hard choice for him, too. And honestly, he does only want the best for you no matter what. He thinks that this job opportunity will do just that - give you both the very best of things - and he just wants to try. I know it sounds really scary ... I understand because I was scared back then, too."

Steve waited as Rebecca mulled through his greatly abridged story. She made a face at him and he nearly laughed because with that one look, she couldn't accept him as ever being scared. Hell, Becca probably couldn't even see him as a kid!

"You never get scared," she said the words finally, her lips toying with a small smile. "Uncle Steve, you're too brave to get scared!"

"You're wrong there! Because back then, I was scared," Steve insisted. "And so was my sister. Come to think of it, she was about your age, too, and super scared about such a big change. But do you get what I'm trying to say, Becca? Your father has some hard choices to make and sometimes, you just have to go with what happens and even if you're a bit scared, try to be brave. And I know for a fact, that you are very brave when it matters most!"

"I'm not," Becca murmured softly. She never felt brave despite what he sometimes said. Still, she thought she understood what Steve was trying to say, but her face reddened in embarrassment when he most unexpectedly reprimanded her.

"You need to promise me something." He held her fingers tightly, his voice a bit more firm than ever before. "I know you were looking for me to talk to that night," Steve whispered privately, a gentle squeeze of her fingers forcing her to look directly into his face. "You can't run away again ... there's other ways. Safer, far better ways to talk things out without scaring everyone who loves you, Becca. Promise me that you will not run away like this again ... not even if you think what you're doing is because you're coming to see me, or your Uncle Danny. No matter how you cut it, you still ran away. You scared your aunt and uncle half to death; you really scared your dad, too, and it only makes everything so much harder. Give everything a chance ... trust your father ... and promise me that you'll not run away again. Promise me, Becca."

"Okay," Becca solemnly nodded. "I won't run away again. I promise." She knew precisely what he meant now and her Uncle Steve was completely right. Her inclination to run and hide had certainly made the tension so much worse between her and her father; even her aunt and uncle were mad at him and she didn't want that either. They were always so happy and arguing was a foreign affair. She'd heard their arguments and something inside her pinged painfully when she was touted as a reason. So she thought she understood and made a private vow to be more brave, too.

"Can I trust you? Really ... will you promise me, Becca?" Steve pressed on though, his hand covering hers to ensure that she was genuinely listening and that he'd made his point. He smiled when she carefully leaned forward to give him a hug, her arms over his chest and her tearful whisper loud and clear.

"I do. Yes, I promise," Becca murmured, her tears soaking immediately into his hospital gown. She closed her eyes and then nodded as Steve rubbed a gentle circle on her back because she'd do her very best to try everything he asked her to do. And even though she was afraid, she'd trust her father, too.

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Mike hung his head, eyes closed, hands dangling loosely between his knees as he sat hunched over on an uncomfortable hospital bench. He was trying not to think so hard. His headache had grown beyond the realm of reasonable once Kono had explained the situation. Knowing now that he'd been elbow to elbow with the men who'd nearly killed his daughter – intentional or not because Five-0 was convinced that they'd kept Becca's existence completely quiet – was something he simply couldn't fathom and he wasn't able to flip a switch that might shut his brain off. He was angry. Mortified. Even scared. Frankly, he was so mixed up inside his head, Mike didn't know where to land with his emotions at all.

Callaghan had been subsequently arrested with nary a hair out of place and most customers in the airport being none the wiser. But after being questioned and avowing that he'd not known who Tom Callaghan was, despite Kono's similar reassurances to everyone with a vested interest, Mike had been sent on his way. There'd even been some good humor thrown in about Kono's kiss which she took gracefully from her peers, but which only added to Mike's ongoing embarrassment. By the time that all of that had happened too, he'd missed his flight entirely. Then he'd gone to his brother's house wanting to explain himself only to find the residence deserted.

He'd missed the flight, lost his job opportunity and then misplaced his family. Calls had gone unheeded until Ellen had finally called him back, explaining not only the situation with his daughter, but also that of Danny and Steve. Incredibly, in the few short hours he'd decided to once more act on what he thought was a gift not only for his career, but for his daughter, life had pulled the rug right out from under his feet. Again.

With Ellen occupying his daughter with a short shopping spree, he had nowhere to go and nothing to do. So feeling lost himself and continuing to search for how he'd be able to explain what had happened at the airport, Mike found himself looking for his brother. With nothing but time on his hands and understanding that Ponch was playing medical advocate for their friends, he wound up sitting in the hospital on a plain bench rehearsing scenarios in his head. Merely waiting for his brother; for what though, he wasn't even sure anymore. Maybe Ponchie wouldn't even bother to see him by that point and he'd have no chance to talk things out. Yet he needn't have considered that as an option as a large shape sauntered his way.

"Mikey," Ponch softly breathed out, his tone unreadable. "Ellen said that you might show up here."

"How's Steve?" Mikey instantly asked, his vision blurring as he stared hard at a scuff mark on the floor. "And Danny ... God, I can't believe what ... they ... he... did to him." He didn't look up. Already having judged himself, he was afraid to. His voice faltered and then broke entirely, guilt bleeding through each word.

"How was that kiss?" There was an amused sound on the heels of that sly pronouncement as Mike colored a deep red. A soft curse was nearly inaudible. Ponch grinned at the bowed head and chuckled even louder. With Chin Ho still at the hospital, news had traveled quickly and he'd been filled in on practically everything related to his brother.

"I don't believe it," Mike coughed out, his discomfit growing as he palmed his eyes until they watered. "How the hell did you know? And what exactly do you know then?"

"Chin's still here," Ponch admitted dryly. "Young Kalakaua called ... and well ... honestly, I know everything, Mikey. But I'd love to hear your side of things."

"My side," Mike breathed out blandly. "Do I even have a side anymore?"

"You didn't know who he was," Ponch said calmly about Callaghan. His grin faded as he opted to slightly change the topic in order to give his brother time to regain his composure. "But as for your first question, Steve is holding his own. He'll be here a few days so he can be monitored, as will Danny." He tried to soothe his brother, but he was angry inside, too. For the normally active retired doctor, sitting was a chore, as was his mindless walking which had become a rapid pacing of the hallway as he was forced to wait for updates he'd normally be presented with. Now feeling impotent in the one place he'd ever mattered, in some ways he was as lost as Mike.

"They'll be all right though?" Mike pressed for more and he finally looked up, wanting to be sure that his brother wasn't holding back any information. "Danny?"

"His body temperature is nearly normal now," Ponch replied. "The staff is monitoring his kidneys for any signs of trouble ... so far, he's looking good, Mikey."

Mike nodded a moment later, his relief obvious until he blushed again.

"I'm an idiot," he blurted out when he felt his brother rock into him, their shoulders brushing each other. He felt the responding ripple through Ponch's arm even though the older man tried not to laugh outright. With that sly shudder, Mike literally felt the silent huff which meant Ponch agreed wholeheartedly and he had to smile down at the floor.

"You could be just a little more understanding about it," Mike said reproachfully.

"You're kidding right?" Ponch grinned into the side of his brother's face, completely incapable of not giving him a hard time. "You wind up meeting a mobster at an airport bar, have a heart to heart with the guy over your daughter. This is the same maniac who almost killed two of our best friends and would have killed Rebecca whether he knew she was there or not. You manage to kiss young Kalakaua ... and I'm supposed to be understanding? What exactly am I supposed to understand, Mikey?"

"Ponchie, stop!" Mike replied, half laughing and half miserable. "I get it ... I am an idiot!" He was still unable to look his brother in his eye, made worse because, in his mind, he'd already embraced a mobster's advice. Of late, he could barely talk to his daughter and only managed to talk to his sister-in-law when she initiated any and all conversation. The job was done. Over. There was no opportunity any more; it had dried up like dust and simply disintegrated. But all of that was going to be okay because he was going to heed a killer's sound advice. It made no sense and yet it completely did. He'd be staying on Oahu and Becca would happily stay, too. He hadn't said it out loud yet, but he'd made his decision. He'd decided, but he wasn't content or happy or even remotely at peace with any part of what had occurred.

"Yes, you are," Ponch agreed as he threw an arm over his brother's shoulders and hugged him into his side. "But I love you anyway, Mikey. Besides, between you and me ... I do understand. More than you know."

"Todd," Mike replied. He shook his head regretfully. "I'm sorry ... after nearly losing Becca, I can imagine what your divorce was like. Then losing custody."

Ponch heaved a deep sigh, loudly and unapologetic. "I chose my career over my wife and child at the time; and she was right. So now, I don't even know what my son looks like anymore, Mikey. I know you mean well ... and deep down, so does Becca. And whatever Steve said to her seems to have really calmed her down a great deal. She's not happy, but she's definitely more settled. Still, with whatever comes down the road and with whatever decision you decide in the end, I will support you. Just please, make sure you're both ready."

"Steve is a good friend ... I can't thank him enough for whatever he said to her," Mike whispered with a genuine smile. "Based on what Ellen could share over the phone, she's definitely more settled. But you would have been a good father, Ponchie. To Todd ... if he'd ever given you the chance."

"Todd's his mother's son. There are no chances," Ponch replied with a wry smile as he got to his feet at the sound of happy shout. He smiled and held his arms out to the colorful blur that was running towards them both down the hospital hallway.

"Daddy! Uncle Ponch!"

"Besides, Mikey!" He laughed as he swung Becca high up into his arms before mock-tossing her over to Mike, who caught his daughter in the air, mid-giggle. "I make a much better Uncle anyway."

H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O

Danny lay quietly on his right side, his hands sandwiched palm to palm between his drawn up knees, staring at Steve while he slept. He had the pillow just right so he wouldn't lean exactly on the white steri-strips and was managing to miss the worst of his bruised temple by a hairs-breadth. Almost comfortable, he just kept staring. Separated by no more than four feet and an occasionally drawn privacy curtain, over the course of the last ten hours, he'd ample opportunity to hear about his best friend's list of mind-boggling woes. The last of Danny's tests had come back healthily optimistic, his kidneys confirmed as functioning well. His body temperature now a very boring normal, too. However, Steve's medical case was quite another story because where plenty of time had elapsed for Danny's health to improve, Steve's continued to be guarded.

Quietly cataloguing what he saw, Danny disliked Steve's pallor and the way the skin remained so tight around his eyes. The slight pinch proved the ongoing feelings of a pained discomfort. Even with the strength of the pain meds, Steve's leg and hip seemed constant homes to a deep, dull throb. The ongoing ache was exhausting and physically debilitating in its persistence. It chipped steadily away at Steve's usual calm reserve and was directly responsible for his lackluster appearance and diminished energy where he barely deigned to move in the bed.

Anger spiking over Steve's condition, Danny moodily fought his dire thoughts about Callaghan. While Steve had his short tete-a-tete with Rebecca, he'd made a series of phone calls. One in particular, state-side to check on Rick Peterson and he'd learned that not one, but two attempts had been been made on the ex-police officer. Peterson was in solitary and the episodes frightening enough. Discussions about a discrete move to a different facility were in progress. But to Danny, the damage was done and nothing would prevent Callaghan from getting his way.

Nothing.

"Shit," Danny murmured inaudibly. His eyes fully expressing his ongoing worry, he went back to staring at his friend. A jailed Callaghan meant little in the grand scheme of things. The mobster had grown more powerful over the years. He'd also extended his arm to reach so very far. Peterson wouldn't be safe and frankly, neither would he until there was some kind of a very permanent resolution.

"Stop staring at me," Steve lazily exhaled the words without opening his eyes. "You're staring ... knock if off, Danno." He'd woken just a few seconds earlier, a soft fidget and a murmur of sound immediately reaching his ears. His voice was weedy, thin and he barely projected across the short span between the beds as he easily guessed the crux of Danny's troubles. "I'm fine ... and none of this is your fault."

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Danny snarked, disguising just how upset he still was through a faked flare of annoyance. Between his knees, his hands clasped even more tightly together. He was feeling better, but Steve was certainly not as he suffered through more scans of his injured leg, rounds of antibiotics and strong pain medication all still prescribed courses of action. And all of which Steve readily accepted without complaint because the ramifications were terrifying. With only a few hours elapsed, he was still at risk of continued bleeding or compartment syndrome. He'd be a resident of said hospital until his caretakers were fully assured that he'd stopped bleeding internally.

"Besides, yeah. It is totally my fault; all of this is my fault," he added. "You ... you sure as hell didn't need to make it ten times worse."

Once he'd learned the true scope of Steve's injuries, he'd hit the roof. Hard. Unrelentingly. "You nearly died the first time," he argued, the grimace on his face further telling of his feelings but his verbal rampage picking up speed. "I guess it wasn't enough that you had to deal with a slug that decided to live in your back for a while? It wasn't nearly good enough that you needed surgery to fix untold damage?" Danny ramped up though his words slurred for his position. "Oh no! You just had to aggravate the entire thing by ... running?"

"Yup," Steve shrugged. "And I'd damn well do it again. All of it." His blasé attitude only serving to aggravate his partner more; precisely his goal. "How long you want to go at this, Danno?"

Jaw-cocked in annoyance, Danny glared at his friend when Steve's head rolled his way. Eyes now open, he tried to stay firm as Steve's weary gaze met his own. But the aged look only made him angrier and Danny chuffed a disgusted sound. "You almost died, Steve."

"Knock it off, Danny," Steve breathed out with as much energy as before. "You almost died, too. Twice. So we're even." He was tired and the constant ache was indeed sapping his meager reserves despite the pain meds. Enforced rest was something he was beginning to be unable to cope with; much like Danny's occasional issues with claustrophobia. So in this as a comparison, Steve could completely sympathize. But being in such state was additionally trying on his sense of patience, and beneath his calm exterior, he was fighting an urge to smack Danny upside his bruised head for good measure.

"I'm sorry," Danny choked in stunned surprise. "What?" He shifted his head and then hissed as he accidentally tweaked the bandages on his temple. "Even? We're ... even? Even in what ... internal bleeds? Hematomas? What exactly? Who gets the most blood transfusions? Are near-death experiences now a challenge? Because I don't like those rules, Steven."

Steve kept his eyes closed as a cocky grin deepened across his face. "I'd like to think that it's the saving part ... but then, I'd win because I saved your ass twice ... and you might have saved mine only once. So you're right; it's not a tie and we're not even at all. Actually, I win. So ... you're welcome, Danno." With a sly chuckle, Steve turned his head back to center on his pillow, his eyes closing again as he calmly listened to a series of perturbed sputters from his left. A soft smile stayed on his lips until Danny's next words reached him. Words which sobered them both.

"It's not over," Danny mouthed so low that Steve barely picked up on the murmur of sound. "Just because Callaghan is in custody ... jailed. It's not over, Steve. He's gone after Rick ... he's not done and he won't be done until he gets what he wants."

"I know," Steve said as he turned his head just enough. "I know and I don't like the idea of you getting out of here before me ... I mean, I know that you want to get home. But Danny, we have to be careful. You have to be more careful and I don't want you to be alone."

If he'd been expecting an argument or a show of anger, Steve was incredibly wrong. Instead, the silence in the room was deafening in its intensity. For the first time, in a long time, neither of them really knew what to do because it wasn't over. Silence meant that Danny agreed. His lack of response clearly meant that he was more than just a bit rattled. Even though Tom Callaghan was incarcerated, he wasn't finished. Not by a long shot.

~ END ~