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

Notes: Never thought I'd do this ... but after dwelling on this special request from a lovely reader to consider doing a coda, the bug "bit" and so here it is ... a coda to Season 6's finale. I hope it satisfies! Thanks again to KomodoQueen for being the beta-taskmaster-treasure which she is!

H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O

He smiled but no one noticed that it lacked his usual humor. In fact, not even a smidgen of good will reached his eyes and the sad attempt faded quickly. Still, no one even spared him a second glance. He both resented that and then weirdly didn't care at all because he was simply too exhausted on so many levels. The bad jokes had grown stale, as had much of his friends' other supposedly funny antics. Bone-tired and feeling utterly unwell from the top of his head down to his very feet, he'd honestly never been amused and now, he was truly bordering on downright miserable.

Tuning everything out around him, Danny closed his eyes as he argued a sickly chill. He catalogued the various aches in each part of his body, then added in the deep throb from the recent surgical procedure just for good measure. The incision was tight and seemed to leak a steady heat. It was more than uncomfortable and he briefly wondered if Steve felt the same way, but discounted his flare of worry quickly when he heard the strength in the voice from the second bed.

Steve apparently felt just fine - thank you very much - and truth be told, that was equally fine with him, too. He didn't want thanks. In fact, that never even occurred to him; not once. Ever.

Steve. Alive. THAT had been the point of the surgery in the first place. To want thanks or to feel any other way about how good Steve sounded - how wonderfully alive he was - would only serve to sabotage the real truth.

He'd nearly died and God help him, Danny thought Steve had, even before he'd managed to land that damned plane. Steve - alive - was miraculous on each and every level. To be next to him and hear him laugh was seriously incredible. At the mere thought of just too many frightening events, Danny felt the sting of tears behind his lashes before almost brutally forcing them away. Everything was simply too fresh for him and feeling ill made those things all the more vivid.

Steve survived. Period. He was healing and would be fine.

The cold hard fact for how Danny might be feeling the exact opposite of good was interestingly very typical. Where Steve could evidently bounce back from near death, Danny's own discomfort served him right and was just another type of woe to add to a very, very long list. And that was just the physical aspect; Danny hadn't even spent too much time dwelling yet on the emotional disconnects.

Swallowing hard in an effort to settle a queasy stomach, Danny didn't say a word after a while, not even bothering to feign being interested in the conversation between Steve and the rest of their team. His fingers twitched to trace the edge of the bandage just under the blanket, stopping shy of really testing how sore he might be when a sharp pain flickered warningly under his skin.

He sucked in his breath and squeezed his eyes closed when the pain sharpened to that of a knife and refused to abate. It lasted long enough for him to wonder if he should say something, then it was gone and he was left lying exhausted once more. Still, for the first time, Danny felt a pang of unease and wondered if it meant anything.

A week had gone by since Steve had nearly died on that damned plane. An entire week since they had both miraculously survived a shooting, a crash landing and dual surgeries. Seven total days had elapsed and Danny didn't feel better; he only felt incomprehensibly worse.

It was normal though. A mission gone so badly wrong, inconceivably followed by a plane crash, and hours of activity. And what had he topped it off with? A major surgical event.

Of course, he'd be bruised and sore. Sick. It was going to take days and even weeks to get back on his feet.

Forcing himself to relax because this was all part and parcel of recovery, Danny kept his eyes closed, the lines in his face evening out after a time. He drifted within his thoughts and got mired in his physical aches as the conversation ebbed and flowed from the opposite side of the hospital room. Sometimes a sharp laugh or the boom of a deeper voice would bring him back to center. Yet he couldn't focus, so he kept his eyes shut, feigned sleep, and felt even more removed from the others as he permitted himself to drift away again. Part of him was duly annoyed for being ignored. But that part was so small in comparison to his current physical reality, Danny chose to feel more relieved that he didn't have to participate. He found himself preferring to escape into his head when he heard their visitors preparing to leave and not caring that one no one questioned his long stretch of unusual reticence.

"Danny?"

He roused briefly at the call of his name, clearly recognizing Kono's voice, her query soft as she apparently second-guessed if he might be merely resting his eyes or sleeping. "We're going to go," she added even more quietly, a tinge of concern evident when he didn't respond. "Danny?"

When he chose not to budge an inch, he felt her ease away and soon forgot she'd even lingered or gently ran her fingers over the back of his hand as a type of good bye until Steve's voice reached his ears. The others might have gone, but she'd hung back to return to Steve's bedside. Likely to talk to him a bit longer. However, Danny didn't expect that he'd be their soft topic of conversation.

"He okay?" Danny heard Steve ask Kono and he mentally sighed over a tone which bordered a true worry. Was he okay? Better yet, did anyone really give a shit if he was or wasn't okay? After seven days of bad jokes and poorly timed teasing, Danny had had enough.

"I think he's just sleeping," Kono replied quietly, now lurking at the foot of his bed and then meandering closer to the doorway, before pacing back towards Steve. "But I'm not sure. He seems... just not right, to me. Maybe I should ask the nurse?"

"M'fine you two," Danny grumbled unhappily as he was forced to speak. "Shut up ... and let me sleep." He ignored their chuckles and then the minor patter of discussion after that last comment. It was all so very normal. So very, very typical.

But a minute later, Kono was back in his airspace and Danny peeled his eyes open when he felt the weight of a heavier blanket settling over his body. He was indeed cold down to his very bones and she'd noticed.

"What's wrong?" He murmured, though he was instantly gratified as warmth finally began to seep into his cold body.

"You're shivering," she explained her actions with those two simple words. "You're cold. I thought you'd like another blanket." She was right. Danny didn't have a need to argue that singular truth. He was very cold and uncomfortable. Making matters worse, an annoying ache just below his ribs had started to take an even firmer hold. That ache had become a sharper pain, something he almost couldn't ignore anymore as it began to flare whenever he tried to take a deeper breath.

Experimenting had proven to him that if he'd just stay still. If he could just lay there, eyes closed and his breath slow, shallow and calculated, he could actually find a place where he could lightly doze. But none of those woes were really gone even with that tactic. The cold lurked in his bones and the pain was still there. The only thing he'd managed to do was to keep it all at a dimmer, slightly more manageable level.

With a murmur of thanks, Danny closed his eyes and willed his body to find that more neutral place. The blanket moved again as Kono tucked it higher under his chin and then smoothed a stray strand of hair from his temple. The gestures were kind, soothing and Danny's lips slightly lifted upwards as he fell back into a doze.

"Get some sleep, Danny," Kono's voice breezed ever so softly over his head. Eyes closed though, Danny never noticed her expression. One that communicated a sense of uncertainty and indecision about the coolness of his skin and his unlikely lethargy. He never knew that she waited to see if he did fall asleep, reluctant to leave until Steve laughingly reassured her that he was fine - that they were both perfectly fine.

When Danny did finally deign to surface a bit more, it was dark with the silence that only night-time hours could bring. He was oddly relieved to realize that the room was empty now, too, except for the light sounds of Steve's evenly cadenced breath sounds as he slept on. Other than that, it was blessedly quiet and he was relieved to be alone as he lay in his misery.

Danny mentally chided himself for being so negative and for having such a terrible attitude. Maybe, it was because of some kind of post surgical depression which magically made all the bad around him so much worse. However, he couldn't find it within himself to feel any other way no matter the excuse. Bad jokes from his team aside, maybe the way he was acting was prompted by the general ill way he felt.

Nothing was amusing. Nothing was good enough. But he felt sick and that was reason enough. As he roused now, he realized that the nausea had increased, as had the pain under his ribs. In fact, he dimly sensed that this pain was what had woken him.

He fidgeted briefly and hissed out a slow pained noise between his teeth. A cold sheen of sweat dotted his forehead and sparkled treacherously along his neck, small beads of moisture settling at the base of his throat.

'Normal,' he reminded himself. All of his damnable pains were a normal part of the healing process. Essentially alone and unable to rediscover a comfortable position, Danny fought to distract himself. His eyes flickered over to the TV remote, but he'd be disturbing his partner. Instead, he lifted his hand with an intent to pull the bedside tray closer, but then changed his mind there, too. The small packet of crackers and container of juice just weren't appealing at all.

He wasn't hungry or thirsty; had no interest in reading or watching television. Even less interest in talking or socializing. Hours had passed and he'd slept, yet he never felt truly rested.

Danny recognized that he was in a bad place and beginning to wallow more as another wave of nausea roiled his stomach. He was definitely in a bad place, yet he didn't care one bit. No matter the reason, should it be valid or not, Danny found it easier to play possum and hunker back down into a welcoming gray area where he could listen to the hum of life around him and yet remain far removed from all of it.

~ to be continued ~