Author's Note: Cross posted on AO3. This is not in the same world as "Building a Mystery" - well, same world, but they're not a series, and events do not take place in a shared timeline. This is unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.

I feel like I should mention a couple head canons that come into play in this - one being that Robin Masters is a pen/anglicized name, and Robin is in fact a native Hawaiian - and a huge community supporter. Second one being part of the plot that I'm working on for unnamed prequel, and that Robin literally owes his life to the guys, and he attributes the success of the White Knight series to Thomas for giving him such a good base for a character (I have a lot more details about this, but limited space - blazeofobscurity on Tumblr can attest to the amount of back log head canons I have for Robin and the guys).

So as someone who trains dogs (read - helps undo the damage done by stupid owners), the scene with Higgins training the dogs to attack using Magnum's clothes as an incentive made me *so* mad, because REALLY, HIGGINS? WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN WHEN YOU'RE NOT AROUND TO CALL THEM OFF?! Also, since it's clear they're going an alternative route from the original by having Thomas and the guys having met Robin when they were in Afghanistan rather than have a mystery whether or not Higgins is Masters, I get really kinda grouchy that she's always complaining about Magnum doing anything on the property - you know, the property she doesn't own. So. This was born. Special thanks to blazeofobscurity on Tumblr for listening to me rant and wonder and theorize about the show. ONWARDS!

Thomas was laughing and joking around, pointing the neck of his beer bottle accusingly at TC when Rick caught it.

"That was not how it went down, you liar," Thomas protested, smiling like an idiot despite the argument. "Since when did I ever get behind the wheel of anything that had rotors?"

"Say what you want, Thomas," TC said, taking a long sip from his own drink. "I definitively remember you almost wrecking the Huey in Korea."

Thomas paused, mid protest, his eyes shifting up and to the right the way he always did when he realized maybe he had it wrong. "Wait, wait, wait…you mean that time when you'd gotten shot and Nuzo was trying to patch you up and we were still getting shot at?"

TC gave him a silent 'cheers' with the bottle.

Magnum scoffed. "Well, yeah, I almost wrecked it. I had like a ten second crash course from Bates and thirty hours on a simulator when I was still in training like…six years earlier. If you hadn't gotten out, like I told you not to, you wouldn't have been shot, and then we wouldn't have been subjected to my clearly homicidal piloting skills."

"Excuse you? You don't never tell anyone to wait in the damn car, Magnum! That's how people die!"

"In horror movies! Not action movies! And a helicopter is not a car-"

"Hey, Thomas," Rick interrupted.

Magnum's head snapped towards him, mouth still open in protest of TC's argument about who did or did not wreck the UH-1 in Korea (it was totally Nuzo's fault). "Yeah?"

"You working any cases right now?"

Thomas frowned, glancing back over at TC for a moment who just shrugged. "I just finished one, why? You have another for me?"

"What kind of a case was it? Another missing pet?" Rick asked, trying to keep his tone light.

And failing miserably.

Thomas shook his head, still frowning at the sudden change in topic. "No. Cheating, soon-to-be-ex-husband. Pretty cut and dry, actually. The wife just wanted photographic evidence of it for court."

"So, nothing to do with dogs?"

Thomas paled, and his gaze darted to the half assed bandage just peeking out from under his shirt sleeve before he yanked his arm back, pulling self-consciously at the end of the long-sleeved shirt. "It's nothing."

"Then let me see it," Rick said, holding out his hand.

"It's not that bad," Thomas protested. He pulled his sleeve further down, clenching the ends of it in his fingers. "I already took care of it."

"As in you went to a hospital and had a professional look at it and make that determination?" TC prompted.

Thomas glared at him. "Whose side are you on?"

"Yeah. Didn't think so. You know the rules. You lie about it, and you have to show it," TC reminded.

For a moment, Rick thought Thomas was going to keep ignoring them, or flat out refuse to pull his sleeve up to show the damage. He watched him bite his lip, worrying his teeth along the old scar on the underside of his lower lip from where he'd bitten through it years ago.

"Come on," Rick wheedled, plastering a smile on his face as he waggled his fingers back and forth. When in doubt, go for levity. Even if right now, Rick could already feel his anger start to build.

They were supposed to be past this. That was the deal.

Thomas huffed irritably, and Rick knew he won when Magnum's shoulders slumped in defeat, and he released the ends of the sleeve, pulling it gingerly back up to reveal the bright red marks and darkening bruising encircling his forearm, just below his elbow. Magnum was a righty, and damned near useless with his left and it showed. The puncture wounds were only half dressed, the orange stain of iodine splashed haphazardly at the ones he didn't bother to cover with band aids and gauze, the purple of the bruising making everything a heinous looking black and brown.

TC sucked in an appreciative breath at the spectacular coloring, sitting forward on his seat as he put his beer bottle down on the table between them. "Damn. What'd you do?"

"Higgins was gone, and the dogs were out," Magnum complained. "And those hounds of hell decided they wanted dinner to go."

Rick cautiously took Magnum's outstretched hand, turning his arm over to see the puncture wounds on the underside of his arm. They didn't look life threatening, but god only knew what those dogs got into when someone wasn't around to watch them. He already knew according to Thomas they weren't exactly well house trained, and while he liked them, Rick knew the same could not be said for Thomas or TC.

"Why were they coming after you, anyway? What'd you do, try and attach the shock collars to them again?"

Thomas shrugged. "They don't like me very much, and I swear to god Higgins encourages it. Did I tell you about how she used one my shirts to help them with their 'refresher course'?"

Rick's hand seized around Magnum's arm harder than he meant to and Thomas hissed. A quick glance to TC, and Rick could see his hands clenching white knuckled into fists.

"Dude, leave it alone, it's fine," Thomas protested, trying to pull his arm away from Rick's less than gentle fingers. "It could've been a lot worse, lemme tell you. I don't know how the hell you stand those mutts. Did you bribe them? Are you some sort of dog whisperer? Are you secretly dating Higgy?"

Rick glanced at the gauze pads, trying to decide if the blood from them was enough to warrant a trip to the ER – just in case. His vision was starting to edge in red, and for a moment, the blood was impossible to see – everything was covered in it. He shook his head, and his vision cleared, and he found himself offering a thin smirk. "No, but Higgins never trained them to go after me, either."

Because who would do that to a guest on a property that wasn't even theirs?

"You up to date on your tetanus?" TC asked, interrupting Rick's downward spiraling thoughts.

"Tetanus?" Thomas echoed, turning his attention away from Rick who was cautiously peeling back the band aids to double check the wounds underneath. "Since when do dog bites cause tetanus? Shouldn't you be asking about rabies?"

"Hawaii is the only rabies-free state in the US. Every animal coming in, including those monsters, have to go through quarantine and be vaccinated before they even set foot here," TC pointed out. "Tetanus, on the other hand, is a bacterium that lives in the soil, especially on former farm lands, and can enter the skin through any open sore or injury, but deep puncture wounds are the ones that are the worst because it can drive the bacteria far into the muscle and skin so that topical antibacterials don't always reach it. It's why people always associate it with rusted metal – it doesn't cause it, it's just a great place for the bacteria to hang out until someone steps on it."

Rick stared at his friend. "Uh, good to know, Mr. CDC…"

Thomas scrunched up his face in disgust. "Now I like those mutts even less."

"You didn't answer the question," Rick pointed out. "Are you, or are you not, updated on your vaccines?"

"We got the same shots when we got out of the camp, and that was like…two years ago. Aren't they good for ten or fifteen years?" Magnum protested.

"You're immunocompromised," Rick reminded him gently.

"All of us are," TC added as Magnum opened his mouth to protest further. "Remember? They warned us that we were gonna have problems with getting sick easier. Remember the hell I had when flu season rolled around with the football team? Kids are like plague carriers. I thought I was gonna die."

Magnum snorted, but at least he was smiling again and not paying any attention to Rick's hands on his arm. "That's because you're a wimp. You thought you were gonna die from the sniffles, too."

It was a familiar tag-team ritual – one that if Magnum was aware of, he didn't comment on. But when they were in the camps, medical aid was non-existent. They lived or died under the care of themselves, and thanks to Thomas's less-than-model prisoner behavior earning him extra attention from their captors, TC and Rick were the ones left to patch him up, and since they didn't always have the benefit of him being aware of who they were or what they were trying to do – distraction was their only option.

The caves were dim, poorly lit or not at all, and while they were given enough food and water to survive, it left their immune systems a disaster. Dysentery, osteomalacia, blood poisoning, anemia, beriberi and half a dozen other diseases were a constant thing – along with any number of parasites transmitted between prisoners. Keeping an eye on one another was second nature, but Thomas added a new level of difficulty towards the end. In the Pit, he was lucky enough to get water and enough food to not die, but after the incident with the radio, they left chains on him constantly. The metal would wear and tear and gnaw away at the skin underneath it as if they were a living thing trying to devour him. Pockets of infection developed and burst and scarred over only to repeat again, until finally the skin started to grow over the manacles. At that point, Thomas was deluded more often than not, and when they tried to take a look at the cuffs, he fought them with everything he had, unable to tell the difference between them and their captors.

English meant he was with them.

Dari meant he was with them.

Trying to keep him focused in the here and now and away from whatever they were trying to do with him almost always fell to TC and Nuzo – Nuzo, who's New York Italian accent was a dead giveaway he wasn't Taliban, and TC who could tell a bedtime story to a dragon and have it asleep before the second act. 'Arguing', even amongst themselves, was the best thing for Thomas – the ridiculous subjects were hardly serious, but the tone was familiar enough to get through to him when nothing else could.

"Well, good news and bad news for you, Thomas," Rick said, finally letting go of Magnum's arm. "You get out of a hospital trip, but only because I just so happen to have a first aid kit in the car with bacitracin in it. I'll be right back."

Thomas didn't pay that much attention beyond the 'no hospital needed', deeply engrossed in his argument with TC about whether or not 'man flu' was real, or if TC just liked any opportunity to have Kumu bring him saimin soup and would play it up like he was trying for an Oscar.

TC, on the other hand, shot him a glare that Rick damn well knew the meaning of, and he actively chose to ignore it, plastering a smile on his face.

"Be right back," he said, clapping TC on the shoulder as he left.

The lights were still on in the main house – Higgins was still up, then.

Good.

He wouldn't have to break in to rip her a new one.

He hit the door a little harder than he meant to with his open palm, and it stung against his skin but at least it gave him something to focus on. He dug his nails into the palm of his hands, pressing the sharp crescents into the skin until he was sure he was going to leave permanent marks.

Permanent like the bite marks on Thomas's forearm – just more scars to add to a very, very long list that wasn't supposed to be getting any new additions.

As the door opened he could already hear the wind up of Higgins's standard complaining, but she noticeably started when she saw it was him, not Thomas or someone else.

"Hi," he said, flashing a grin he didn't feel. "Got a minute?"

Juliet frowned, unmoving from the door way with one hand on the door knob and the other on the frame, blocking his entrance. "It's actually quite late, and I was just about to –"

"This will only take a second," he said cheerfully, and shoved his way past her, knocking his shoulder into hers as he passed.

A petty move for a petty mood.

Higgins seemed too stunned for words for a moment, before she glanced back outside – presumably to see if he was alone, or had just managed to out walk the other two – before shutting the door and crossing her arms defensively over her chest.

"Yes, please, do come in. It's only the dead of night, I wasn't planning on turning in any time soon. I'm always up for unwelcome visitors," she deadpanned, one elegant eyebrow raised.

Rick kept the smile on his face – a tactic, or perhaps bad habit he'd picked up in Afghanistan – before snarling: "You have approximately eight seconds to explain why you've been training Zeus and Apollo to go after Thomas, or you're going to be homeless."

She bristled, but at the same time, he noticed a faint flush of pink beneath her tan creep up her neck. "I beg your pardon?"

"Seven," he counted. "Six. Five. Four. Three. Two…"

"What on Earth are you talking about?" she asked.

"Did I stutter?"

Juliet pursed her lips, her eyes shifting down and away from looking him in the eye and he felt his eye twitch. So not only was Magnum not exaggerating, Higgins knew damn well that it was an abhorrent behavior it was.

"Ah. So it is true. Don't worry, Thomas didn't rat you out," he said, seeing the flash of betrayal in her wide eyes. "The bite marks on his arm from the dogs did. Now," he continued, taking a step towards her. "I get it. You don't like Thomas very much. He rubs you the wrong way, gets under your skin, interrupted your island isolation…whatever. Maybe you think he's a mooch. Except, riddle me this, Juliet. Whose kitchen are we currently standing in?"

"Mr. Masters, but –"

"And whose cars are in the garage?" Rick asked through gritted teeth. "Whose beach do you swim at? Whose six thousand square foot, multi-million-dollar mansion, with its nine bedrooms, six baths, sauna and home theater, are you currently occupying, rent free?"

He took another step closer, now invading enough of Higgins's personal space she took a reflexive step back.

"Whose dogs are they, Higgins?"

Wisely, Juliet didn't answer, but the faint blush was turning crimson.

"I don't care how funny you think it is to have the 'lads' chase Thomas all over the property. Did you even stop to think what training them to go after him would mean if you weren't around to call them off?" He grabbed her arm, his hand easily encircling her forearm with a bruising grip. "Do you know how you get bite marks here, Higgins? By putting your arm up to defend your face."

Juliet was looking pretty much anywhere but at him, and he squashed the flare of anger threatening to red out his vision. It was one thing to be embarrassed at being called out like a truant teenager caught out after curfew, but refusal to acknowledge fault was another thing entirely.

And Rick knew, knew that she didn't know about Magnum's issues with barking dogs, because even she wouldn't be that pointedly cruel.

Besides. No one but TC and Rick knew about the phantom hell hound hallucinations caused by Thomas's CPTSD, and Rick knew Nuzo took the secret to his grave.

But that didn't stop the idea of breaking Juliet's arm in his hands from crossing his mind.

"Thomas lives here, same as you, because Robin invited him. You can call him a freeloader all you want, but I don't recall a MI-6 character being the one to make Robin a millionaire, do you? Robin has this because of Thomas, which means you're here because of Thomas. Now, maybe things are different in England, but in Hawai'i, being a welcoming host is sacred, and if you break the peace with a guest, it's one of the biggest insults you can make – and since you're standing in for Robin, you're ruining his reputation. It's a tenet of life here that connects the islanders to their history – ho'okipa, something which Thomas seems to have grasped a little better than you, because he broke a promise to us when he hid injuries caused by whatever petty vendetta you have against him."

Which he absolutely would not let Thomas start doing again. It nearly killed him in Germany – hell, it nearly killed all of them.

Juliet twisted her arm, trying to pull it back, but he didn't let go.

"You're hurting me," she said, sounding more annoyed than injured.

"Retrain the dogs," he snapped. "Or the next phone call I make is to Robin about having you evicted for siccing his dogs on his friend." And the guy Robin owed his life – millionaire status aside – to. Robin was a pretty even-tempered guy. Even before the White Knight series became a hit, he was the type to invite anyone who needed it to crash on his couch. But he took ho'okipa seriously, and Rick had no doubt in his mind that if he told him half of the shit Higgins had been pulling on Thomas, she'd be lucky to be just fired. "I don't hear a 'yes'. Maybe just nod."

For a moment, Juliet met his steely gaze with one of her own, and he could see the impulse to tell him to screw off flit across her face, because Higgins took orders from no one as far as she was concerned. Just as quickly, though, the impulse was gone, and for the first time since confronting her, Rick saw remorse.

"I apologize," she said sincerely. "Is Magnum alright?"

The red haze that'd been threatening to engulf his vision receded slightly.

"Yeah. He'll be fine, once we redo the bandage and get some bacitracin on them." And just because he didn't want her thinking he'd let her off the hook just yet: "No thanks to you."

"If you let go of me, I have a field kit in the cupboard that would shame the one for James Bond," she offered.

He released his grip on her arm, and she edged around him, walking back to lower cabinets under the counter.

She he handed the bag – duffle, really, she wasn't kidding about the extent of preparedness – and he turned to leave.

TC would be wondering whether or not he should send in the cavalry by now.

"I didn't know that," she said, just as he was about to close the door, making him pause and glance back, an eyebrow raised in question. "About the… ho'okipa -"Rick cringed at the butchered pronunciation. Apparently, she hadn't been studying up on Hawaiian lessons with Kumu. "Nor did I consider the ramifications of using Magnum as a training incentive."

She shifted self-consciously, and Rick wondered if she really thought that was going to enough for him to forgive her. Thomas would, in a heartbeat – hell, he probably did the second the incident was over. He was just that kind of guy.

Rick wasn't.

"You shouldn't need a reason to be nice to other guests at a house that isn't yours. Apologize to Thomas tomorrow, or I'm calling Robin, and you can see how hard it is to find work on the island when you've been black listed by the guy who patrons half of it. Good night."

And with that, he shut the door in her face.

So, like it, love it, hate it? Drop me a line and let me know! Can't improve if I don't have suggestions (besides, some of you have some pretty good plot ideas). Not gonna lie, I had some serious debates about Rick's conversation with Higgins - he was a lot more aggressive in the original, and then a lot tamer, and then down the middle with this - while I think Rick was probably taught not to hit a lady, I think the idea that Higgins was siccing dogs on Thomas that went way past the being a joke stage would be a good shove over that line. The Hawaiian hospitality and its importance is from "Ho'okipa: A History of Hawaiian Greetings and Hospitality" by Randie Kamuela Fong (which is a really interesting read, and you guys should go read it). Feel free to swing by and say hi on Tumblr disappearinginq. I still plan on writing a prequel where they are caught and imprisoned by the Taliban (unwritten said story already has a sequel to it in the works), but I just wanted to try writing Thomas and TC a bit first, so let me know how I did!

Also, I do ultimately like Higgins, but sometimes she just rubs me the wrong way, and I really hate romantic sub-plots in pretty much everything, so the relationship teasing between Higgins and Magnum is not my cup of tea, and if probably never going to make it into a fic of mine.