(T.C.)

I shift in my seat and glance at my watch. It feels as if days have gone by since the three of us had been at the grocery store, picking up supplies for a surprise party that never ended up happening—and yes, the fact that Thomas has spent his birthday in a hospital hasn't escaped me. Has it really only been… what, seventeen hours? since this whole horrible chain of events had been set in motion? It feels like it's been a lifetime, and still no change in Thomas's condition.

Glancing to my right, I see Rick tapping at his phone screen. He's already told me he called in to the club and gotten one of the shift managers to cover for him tonight; he's supposed to be closing, but he'd been adamant there was no way he was leaving the hospital until we've gotten more news. I don't blame him; none of us want to go very far in case something changes, so none of us had tried to dissuade his decision. For worse or for better, we're going to be here for our friend.

I glance down the hall toward Thomas's room. We've decided to take turns sitting with him; we don't want to overwhelm him and make things worse again, but, on the other hand, there is no way we are letting him wake up alone. Not again.

I can't help but think that things might have been different if someone had been here earlier in the day. Instead, we were all out chasing bad guys while our buddy was in the hospital all alone. And, while I know there's no guarantee one of us could have kept him grounded, I also can't shake the thought that a lack of familiar faces contributed to the start of his flashbacks. But I know from personal experience that isn't always the case. This whole situation is triggering some pretty vivid memories in my own mind, both from the Korengal and from the military hospital afterward. How much worse must it be for Thomas to be lying in that bed, in pain and on drugs—

"Here," a voice breaks into my thoughts. "I thought you boys might be hungry."

Glancing up, I see Kumu settling into a chair across from Rick and me. She's bearing three Styrofoam containers, and I can smell the seafood already.

"Thanks, Kumu, but I'm not really hungry," Rick remarks, giving the older woman a small but grateful smile.

She frowns and takes the top box from her stack, holding it out to him with a no-nonsense look on her face. "I'm pretty sure none of you have eaten at all today and since who-knows-when yesterday!"

He opens his mouth to protest, but she raises an eyebrow and stops him in his tracks.

"Eat."

"Thanks, Kumu," he says reluctantly, accepting the container.

With a nod of satisfaction, she hands him a paper-wrapped pair of chopsticks.

I don't even bother arguing. "Thanks, Kumu," I echo Rick.

She watches us intently until we each have taken several bites, then nods in satisfaction and sits back in her chair. There's one remaining box still in her hands that she sets on the end table beside her. "Juliet's with him now?"

"Yeah," Rick says around a mouthful. "She and T.C. just traded off a few minutes ago."

"How is he?"

The question makes us pause, and I glance at Rick before replying. "Uh, about the same." I sigh and glance away, then looks back at Kumu. "The doctors are saying he can wake up at any time now that the sedative has worn off, but he's still out of it. It's just his body working on healing; it'll be up to him when he finally comes back to us."

She nods slowly. "Well, if I know Thomas Magnum, he's nothing if not a fighter. He'll come back to us when he's ready."

(Magnum)

The darkness is punctuated with brief flashes of images, there and then gone. At first, they're rushing by too fast, and I can't make out anything beyond dim shadows and muffled sounds. Everything's moving so fast, and I strain to focus, to grasp onto something that will ground me. It's so dark, and everything is so fluid; I don't know where I am or what's going on… and I'm not sure how to find out. I want nothing more than to pull myself out of whatever dark, confusing hole I've managed to fall into, but I don't know how.

Then the images start to become more real, more solid. There are still shadows flickering at the edges, but the figures are starting to take shape. At first, I'm relieved, but that feeling quickly turns to cold fear as I realize where I am.

The wooden walls and damp dirt floor start a sinking feeling in my gut that continues as I hear rough laughter filtering in from somewhere outside. No.

No, no, no.

But it is there, as real as anything, and I sink back as I realize I'm in solitary—again—still trapped in the nightmare in the Korengal Valley. Any thoughts or dreams I'd had of home, of life after this hellhole, were just that: dreams. As much as I wish they were real, this is my reality.

I hear more laughter, footsteps, voices drifting through the cracks in the beams. Something's coming, something bad, and I can't do anything to escape it.

More voices now, and I try to push them away, to block them out of my mind. I can't focus on them, on what's undoubtedly coming. If I hope to get through this—

But then the voices are gone. The sudden silence is almost as bad as actually hearing my captors. I can't even brace for what's coming if I can't hear anything.

I notice everything starting to grow dark again, and I shake my head. I can't pass out, no matter how hungry or tired or hurting I am. No, I have to stay awake. For me. For my buddies. I have to…

My thoughts trail off as another sound prods at the edges of my consciousness, and I pause. That voice… I know that voice. It's soft, kind. There's a lilting accent to it that replaces the dread that the rough voices from a moment before had brought with them.

And then an image dances across my vision. A woman, her blonde hair curling around her face. She smiles at me, encouraging me, and I feel myself wanting to respond in kind, but I can't move. I just watch as she starts to move away, then turns and looks back at me with that same beautiful smile.

"Thomas."

I feel like I should follow her, should reach out, should say something. My feet won't cooperate, though, and I watch her fade slowly into the darkness as it comes rolling back over me. As it settles in like a thick blanket, I find myself searching for that face again, straining to hear that voice saying my name just one more time…

The quiet of the afternoon was reassuring—but only to some. For the man sneaking along the treeline, it was much too quiet for comfort. He knew that any small noise might give him away, and there were next to no other sounds to mask any accidental rustling he might cause. And so he made sure to tread carefully, putting one foot in front of the other while continually glancing ahead. Heel, toe, heel, toe… He padded along cautiously, watching for any rogue branches or roots that might crack underfoot or trip him up and send him sprawling, neither of which were a very appealing idea.

He glanced down, noting with pleasure how his green camouflage clothing helped him blend into his environment seamlessly. Patches of sun streamed through periodic breaks in the trees overhead, and he was glad for the grease paint he'd smeared on his face that would help hide any glint of the sunlight off of his tan skin.

Slowly making his way through the undergrowth, he paid no mind to the mosquitoes swarming nearby or the occasional squawk of wildlife. He had one mission, one sole focus, and he was not going to let himself get distracted. Distraction meant almost certain death, and he couldn't let that happen. Too much was hanging in the balance today.

He reached the end of the trees and halted. Pulling a small spotting scope from his pocket, he lifted it to survey the scene ahead of him. Across a small clearing, a cluster of buildings sat surrounded by a tall, cinderblock wall. From the edge of the jungle, all he could make out of the buildings were the tops of their roofs that extended above the walls.

There were two sentries he could see from his side of the compound. Tilting his head, he studied the chain-link gate that secured an opening in the wall. He'd already reconned the entire perimeter; this was his last side to check before deciding on his attack plan. There had only been one other entry into the place on the opposite side of the compound, and that one had been bigger and protected by more guards. If he was going to get in at all, this was where he'd need to make his move.

Granted, it wasn't the most ideal situation, but he had dealt with worse. He could handle this without breaking a sweat

With one last look at the men standing watch, he was satisfied to see neither seemed to have spotted him. Having ascertained that his presence hadn't been noticed, he checked his watch and quietly radioed in his position, then settled to his stomach to wait out nightfall.

It had taken him most of the afternoon to sneak through the jungle and recon the entire compound, so he didn't have long to wait before dusk set in. As it did, he looked at his watch again to check the time. Previous surveillance work told him the guards here changed posts regularly every evening, meaning the perfect time to strike was just near the end of these men's rotation and before a the fresh shift came on. It would be much easier to take down guards who had been standing around in the heat and humidity all afternoon than replacements who had probably just had a good meal and a nap.

That was the plan he and his team had decided on before heading out that morning on their mission. If they hoped to get to the aid workers, hitting now before the shift change was their best opportunity. He knew that, while he would infiltrate from the ground, the others would fly the chopper in and be ready to assist with fire and manpower from above. Then they'd load up the two rescued hostages and evacuate the area.

He checked his watch one last time, counting down the seconds until it was time to make his move, and then he rose from his hiding place in the bushes and hurried a few yards farther down the treeline. Crossing the clearing was one of the most risky parts of the whole plan; the mission would end almost before it started if the guards spotted him too soon—and he preferred not to serve as target practice for a couple of guerrillas, at least not today.

When he was what he deemed a far enough distance away, the camo-clad figure darted across the open space, his legs pumping as he ran through the grass. He was now approximately ten yards from the gate, and he kept a sharp eye on the guards, hoping they wouldn't look in his direction just yet.

He somehow made it to the wall without detection and flattened himself against it, breathing hard. Thankfully, the shadows of the structure now helped hide him from the guards' sight, and he slowly started to make his way along the wall toward the gate.

Just as he was closing the last remaining gap between them, the guard closest to him turned. The armed man's eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth to shout a warning, but that was as far as he got. A fist to his jaw sent him reeling to the ground where he lay, motionless.

The second guard had his gun up and swung it toward the intruder, but he didn't get off a single shot before meeting the same defeat as his partner.

In a moment, both had been relieved of their weapons and one of his hat. Allowing himself a small moment to wipe some of the grease paint from his face with his sleeve, the White Knight smiled and then ducked through the gate of the compound. With any luck, the rest of this operation would be just as easy.

His good fortune continued as he darted unseen from shadow to shadow. In search of one particular building, the one that had been pointed out on a map to him as the location of the hostages, he had to pull up twice and crouch to stay undetected as guards went past. With the way everything looked the same within the walls, he almost felt like he was going in circles. But, finally, he let out a quick sigh of relief as he located the structure.

Glancing around to make sure he was still in the clear, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black case. Selecting the tools he needed, he clenched the case between his teeth and then set about working to pick the padlock that held the door closed. It was slow going in the dark, but he felt he was getting close when the sound of footsteps from behind him caused him to freeze.

Turning slowly, he saw another of the guerrillas staring at him in shock, then the man growled and lunged forward—only to be met by a well-placed, powerful side kick that sent him reeling backward and crashing against the wall of the building opposite them.

Unfortunately, the man recovered too quickly and again rushed for the intruder picking the lock. He drew a large knife from his belt as he moved, and it was only a deft side-step that saved his target from what would surely have been a fatal blow.

With a yell of fury, the guerrilla swung the knife again, and was met this time by a whirl of blocks and punches that soon had him dropping to his knees and gasping for breath. His opponent finished him off with a final smashing fist to his temple, and the man crumpled to the ground.

Case still between his teeth, the White Knight shook out his hand and then turned back to the lock he'd been trying to get through before being so violently interrupted. There was no time to waste, and he soon had the latch undone. Tucking the picks back into the case and then putting everything back into his pocket, he smiled in satisfaction and then swung the door open.

A man and woman were huddled against the far wall; it was likely they had heard the commotion going on outside but had no way to know what was happening. As the moonlight streamed in behind the new arrival, they squinted toward the doorway, trying to make out who was there.

Their rescuer stepped inside and flashed them a brilliant smile. "Come on; it's time to get you home," he said with a wink.

(Higgins)

"Ya know… that's not… exactly what happen'd."

I nearly drop the book in my hands. "Thomas!"

He makes a face, and I belatedly lower my tone. "Sorry," I apologise quietly. Quickly setting the hardback on the bedside table, I stand and reach a hand to feel his forehead. It's cool and dry, and I smile. "How are you feeling?' I ask, my eyes searching his intently.

In answer, he cracks a small grin. "Had better days."

I shake my head and sink back into my chair, moving to gently grab his hand in mind while making sure to mind the IV. "I would imagine so," I reply as I reach over and press the call button on the bedrail.

He turns his head slowly toward me. The smile is still playing at the edges of his mouth as he meets my gaze. It's small, yes, but it's like a breath of fresh air after all we've been through, and I don't want this moment to end.

But, all too soon, it does. Magnum shifts as if to rub his head and freezes as his arm won't follow the command. I see his eyes move downward to take in the restraints on his wrists and then grow wide at the realisation. He looks toward the bottom of the bed, and I can see the panic starting to well up in his expression.

"Thomas," I say with gentle firmness as I grasp his hand a little tighter and rub it encouragingly, trying to draw his focus back to me. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Look, I'm right here."

He darts wild eyes back to me, and my stomach clenches. I can't let his memories take over again; he's just awoken, and I'm not going to lose him to nightmares, not a second time.

"Look at me. Hey," I continue to soothe. "It's okay. Look, see? You're here; you're safe. The nurse will be in any moment now, okay? Just look up here at me. That's it. Good!"

It's a relief as he pulls his gaze to look back at me, but his expression still holds fear and… now sadness as well. I'm not quite sure what to make of it, and I'm worried it's not a good sign.

"Thomas? Are you okay?" I'm tentative, not sure if another memory has somehow been stirred up from the back of his mind.

He swallows and glances away, then back to me, searching my face. "Did…" He trails off, his voice rough. "Did I hurt someone?"

My heart clenches, and I quickly shake my head as I hum comfortingly and rub his hand again. "No, no, shhh," I reassure him. "It's okay."

"Juliet."

The gravelly sound of my name, coming from him, very nearly stops my heart.

"I did, didn't I?" He sounds so tired as he searches my face. "Who? …you?" Then he glances around, and his eyes widen slightly. "The guys?"

"No, no, Rick and T.C. are just outside."

"Who?" he presses quietly.

I shake my head but then pause. Magnum is smart; he knows something went down, even if he doesn't remember what, and I know I can't hide it from him. But I also hesitate to tell him the truth for fear it'll reawaken the memories that drove him into such a dark corner of his mind earlier today.

It seems he takes my silence as an answer, and his face falls. He blinks up at the ceiling before looking back to me. "Are… are they all right?"

"Everyone is fine," I reassure him, reaching up to put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I promise. Don't worry, please." The last thing I want his him making himself worse by stressing about what he might have done.

He looks like he might press further before there's a knock at the door and a nurse pokes her head inside. She takes in the scene before her and smiles at us both.

The next long minutes—it feels like forever but is probably more like half hour—are filled with the bustling of medical staff who poke and prod and ask questions and take readings from the machines around the bed. I feel like a weight has been lifted from my chest when the doctor, having finished talking to Magnum, turns to smile and nod to a nurse, giving the okay for the restraints to be removed. The look on his face as the straps are taken away clenches at my heart, but, when he looks my way, I manage to smile encouragingly from where I've been relegated to the side of the room.

While the doctor is finishing up, I quickly reach for my phone to text the others, who I know are all close by. I'm sure none of them have put their phones away, as I hadn't when I was out there, and expect them to arrive within moments. Sure enough, T.C., Rick, and Kumu all hurry into the room less than a minute later.

It's been a long day with only fitful naps to count as rest for any of us, but that exhaustion I'd seen in everyone's eyes—and know was in mine—not long ago is now replaced by excitement and relief as the three quietly join me along the wall of Magnum's room. I glance between my friends and see guardedly hopeful expressions on all of their faces, and I know they mirror my own.

Magnum looks past the doctor to us and smiles weakly. It's clear just how exhausted the poor man is, but it's also clear just how glad he is to see familiar faces.

I meet his eyes and, again, muster as encouraging a smile as I can. Memories from the past day flicker across my mind, but I squash them as quickly as they come. I know Rick and T.C. are right and nothing that has happened is truly my fault, but that little worm of guilt is still there, threatening to take over once again.

No, I shake my head. No, I can't think that way. Least of all right now. Right now, I need to be here, in the moment, for Magnum.

There will be time enough to worry about everything else later. And, if pushing my feelings and memories aside for the time being means Thomas stays here with me, then I'm more than okay with that.

(Rick)

I glance up at the man sleeping across from me for the umpteenth time since I'd taken over bedside duty. He hasn't stirred since the last time I checked—which, admittedly was only about thirty seconds ago.

Yawning, I stretch my legs out in front of me and rub a hand over my face. The day is starting to catch up with me, and it's only early evening. After Juliet had texted us all that Thomas was awake and we'd piled into the room, we'd been relieved to hear from Doctor Olina that Thomas was recovering well considering everything. But then she'd also raised an eyebrow and insisted all of us couldn't stay in the room at once because it would be too much excitement. Thomas still needed to stay quiet and unexcited.

We didn't necessarily like it, but one look at our friend's drooping eyelids had been all we'd needed to nod in agreement. At least we knew he was on his way back to normal; we could handle having to wait a little longer to get to talk to him.

The others had reluctantly agreed to finally go home to freshen up. Except for Kumu, all of us have been at the hospital since the wee hours of the morning, the only break being our quick trip out to help Katsumoto with the case. We could all use some serious rest right now, but none of us wanted to admit it.

Kumu had sent us all away to shower and get some sleep, but I'd immediately returned to the hospital room after freshening up, ignoring the need for a nap. My excuse was I still had work to do, and I might as well do it while everyone else went home for a bit. She had given me that raised eyebrow look but finally relented and patted me on the shoulder as she'd left.

My excuse isn't a lie; I do have work to do for the club that I was planning to do from the office tonight, but it's nothing I can't do remotely. But, if I'm being honest, there's more to it than just wanting to catch up on work. Truth is, I can't bring myself to leave Thomas right now.

As much as what I told Jules is true—dwelling on situations that are out of our control do no one any good—but the memories have been stirred up fresh in my mind and I can't get away from them yet. Every time I think I'm over what went down back in Afghanistan, something happens and stirs those old nightmares up again. And this whole situation with Thomas is apparently the perfect catalyst to make me start reliving that whole hellish experience.

I swipe a hand over my face and glance across the dimly lit room as a noise at the door interrupts my internal dialogue. The nurse enters a moment later, giving me a smile as she makes her way over to the bed.

"Hello again, Rick," she greets me quietly.

"Hey, Sarah," I respond, glad my voice isn't betraying me to the pretty brunette. "How's your night?"

She tilts her head as she evaluates the readout on the machine by the bed. "It's good, thanks. Nothing too exciting happening out there so far. How about you?"

"I can't complain." I wink. "I get to talk to you every hour."

That gets an actual laugh from her. "Well, your luck's about to run out because I get off work in about twenty minutes."

Thomas stirs and opens his eyes as Sarah fiddles with the blood pressure cuff on his arm.

"Sorry," she apologizes.

He lifts a hand halfway. "'s fine."

Finishing up her check-in, Sarah adjusts the blanket draped over the bed. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

My friend cracks a grin. "Not unless you can arrange to get me a steak up here. Well-done. Oh, and a baked potato."

"I feel like Doctor Olina might have my head for that one," the nurse replies with a friendly chuckle. "Sorry."

He makes a face. "Thought you might say that."

"Ignore him," I tell her, winking at Thomas. "He's on a strict vegan diet lately." My smile grows when I see my words having the desired effect.

Thomas rolls his eyes. "Hah, right. You, maybe."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I object, spreading my hands.

"Okay, I think I'll leave you two gentlemen to sort this out on your own." Sarah laughs again. "If you do need anything else, you know where to find me."

I flash her a charming smile. "Bye, Sarah."

"Bye, Rick. Have a good night."

When she ducks out into the hallway again, Thomas rolls his eyes at me. "Really, Rick? Hitting on the nurses?"

"Hey, man, I can't help it if I'm irresistible." I quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Ow, don't make me laugh," he protests.

Oops. I'd kind of forgotten about that. "Right, sorry." Might need to curb the humor just a little for now. I shift and pull my chair a little closer to the bed. "So, how you doin', bud?"

"Oh, you know," he says with a small sigh, "as well as can be expected, I guess."

I pinch my lips together and nod. "Right."

Something on my face must have caught his attention because his eyes flick over it before meeting my gaze again. "Rick, you good, man?"

Me? I blink. "Yeah, yeah; I'm all good. Fine." How do I explain everything happening in my head right now without overwhelming him? I'm under strict orders not to upset him, and recounting the images that have been filling my mind all day is probably not the best way to follow that command.

Judging from the look he gives me, even past his swollen features, he clearly doesn't believe me. He knows me too well.

I glance away from him for a moment and look back to find him still watching me. "Nah, I'm okay," I insist. "Really. It's just… been a long day."

Thomas nods slowly and clears his throat. The low rumble of coughing grows, and I look over in concern as he keeps going. His face is pained, and I wince in sympathy. In the next moment, thankfully, he seems to get under control, and I reach for the cup on the side table. The straw bobbles around in the water as I stand to hold it for him.

"Here," I offer, then add in caution, "Slowly."

He accepts, but I can tell he's less than pleased with the whole situation. I can't say I blame him. After a few sips from the straw, he pulls back, and I set the cup to the side. When I do, he fixes me with a look.

"Rick, there's something bothering you," he says. "And you don't want to tell me because the doc said not to get me excited and you think it'll upset me, right?"

T.M. is sharp; I should've known I couldn't pull one over on him. I still don't want to get him excited, though. Regardless of his accurate assessment, I also don't want to disobey Doctor Olina's strict instructions.

He grins at me. "Since when have I ever cared about a doctor's instructions?"

That gets a chuckle out of me. He does have a point, though. And if he keeps pushing because he's concerned about me, that's not really resting either. So I close my eyes and take a deep breath, then look back at my friend. "This is just all stirring up a bunch of memories, you know?"

He nods in understanding. "But not just any memories?" he asks quietly. Good ol' T.M.

"You know…" I sigh. "Jules thinks this is her fault," I say tentatively. Although I almost don't want to tell him about that, there's a part of me that decides he needs to know. I'm sure Juliet will never tell him herself.

At that, he lets out a small sigh of his own and nods. "I thought there was something going on," he replies. He sounds tired, and, if I had to guess, he hadn't asked Jules because he wasn't up to the task when she was in here earlier.

"We were putting together a surprise party for you at Robin's," I continue. "She'd decided a sure way to get you over to the main house in the morning was to clean out your fridge."

He hums in realization. "But… it wasn't her fault those guys were at the house."

I nod. "True, but that didn't stop her from feeling absolutely guilty about you being there." I run a hand through my hair. "T.C. and I tried to help her see that."

There's a moment of silence, and Thomas glances away from me. I watch him, taking stock of how tired he still looks and realizing he probably needs to sleep more. I'm about to say as much when he suddenly looks back to me.

"Rick." The expression in his eyes is firm but sad. He doesn't even have to say what he's thinking; I know.

"Yeah," I nod. "I told her. I thought it would help." My throat clenches around the words. It's amazing how, even now, the memories haunt me so tangibly.

He doesn't say anything right away, and we both fall silent. Flashes of memories are playing across my mind, as I'm sure they are for Thomas as well. Then, I hear him clear his throat again, and I glance up.

"Rick," he says, so quietly I have to lean in to catch his words. His eyes look heavy, and they flutter as he glances my way. "You're a good friend," he says with a small yawn that prompts another wince. And then his eyes slip closed.

I watch until his breathing evens out, then sit back and close my own eyes with a sigh. We might never fully be over the memories of our experiences in the camp, but at least we're still together. And, together, we can get through anything.

(T.C.)

I hurry down the hall toward Thomas's room. He's been doing so much better since he woke up yesterday evening and hasn't had any further relapses, but there's a part of me that's still worried something is going to happen when we least expect it.

Although the doctor has told us he's continuing to improve and will be able to move out of ICU soon if his condition keeps up like it is, I still need to see for myself that he's recovering well. After what I've witnessed over the course of the past day—some of the longest thirty-two hours of my life—I know I won't rest easy until the day the doctor finally discharges Thomas and we get him safely home. There's been way too much concern and uncertainty for my comfort; I think I've had enough to last me several lifetimes.

I knock on the door and poke my head inside when I hear Rick call, "Come in."

"Hey, Rick," I greet him, then turn to Thomas with a wide smile. "How's it going this morning?"

"Eh," he replies, flicking a hand in a wave. "Ready to be out of here."

I chuckle as I come over next to the bed. "I bet."

Rick yawns, and I look over at him and shake my head. "You let this guy keep you awake all night?" I ask Thomas, pointing at our friend.

"Haha, thank you very much for your faith in my bedside manner," Rick retorts with a good-natured eye roll.

I pat him on the back. "Nah, we have all the faith in you, Orville. We just also know how much you talk."

That draws a light chuckle from Thomas, who looks like he wants to laugh more but doesn't want to aggravate his side.

Rick just rolls his eyes again. "Well, fine, if that's the way it's going to be, maybe I'll just stay here a little longer to make sure you two don't start telling tales about me." He glances between the two of us, a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

"We promise we'll behave," I tell him. "Go on; you need some breakfast."

He gets to his feet, but then he turns back and points between the two of us. "I'm trusting you."

"Scout's honor," I reply, raising a hand.

Thomas nods along. "Promise."

Rick still doesn't look like he believes us, but he just shakes his head and pulls open the door. "See you guys in a bit," he says in parting.

As the door swings shut behind him, I take the seat he vacated and regard my friend lying in the bed. He still looks pale, but nowhere near as severely as he had at first. The dark circles under his eyes have started to lighten, and I'm grateful to see he appears much less drained overall /now. It gives me hope that he really is fully on his way to recovery.

Thomas glances over and catches me watching him. He gives me a reassuring grin. "I'm good, T.C. I promise."

I give him a small smile of my own but don't reply right away. We regard each other for a few moments, then he shakes his head.

"After all we've been through, it's going to take a lot more than some idiot dognappers to take me out." He shifts his hand toward me. "T.C., bud, it's okay. I'm okay. Really."

I manage another smile, this one a little warmer, and nod. He's right; T.M. is tough, and I'm proud to call him a brother. But, "Enough about that," I say. "I think there's a Tigers replay on ESPN this morning. They wouldn't let me bring popcorn, but I think we can survive without it. What do you say?"

(Katsumoto)

It's well into the afternoon after everything went down on the dognapping—and assault—case before I make my way back to the hospital. I'd spent the day before doing paperwork and, when I trailed off in the middle of typing my report for the third time, I'd had to admit to myself I needed sleep. I've put in my fair share of sleepless nights since I'd joined the force years ago, but, after two days of no sleep and two separate fistfights that had left me bruised and injured, it was probably time to call it a day.

Thankfully, I wake to find several texts waiting for me, all from the group at the hospital. I sigh in relief as I scroll through the updates. Magnum is awake and doing much better. I'm sure he'll be back to getting involved in my cases in no time, but I've long-since gotten used to dealing with Thomas Magnum and his antics. The news that he's well on his way to recovery is good to hear.

Checking the time, I nod to myself. I'll stop by the hospital on my way to the office. I still need to get Magnum's statement for the case file, and that's much better done in person than over the phone.

(Magnum)

"I'm serious, Higgy. I really thought they were going to go for me instead of the actual bad guys," I protest, trying my best to look pitiful from my spot in the hospital bed.

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Why are you always acting like the lads want nothing more than to eat you for dinner?"

Visions of being chased across Robin's lawn run through my mind. "Uh, because they do?" I start to cross my arms, then rethink the action as I grimace at the way the movement pulls against my side.

A knock comes at the door just then, and I'm grateful Rick and T.C. have arrived just in time to rescue me. When the door opens, however, it's Detective Katsumoto who steps into the room.

"Good afternoon, Detective," Higgy greets him with a smile.

I grin when he looks my way. "I didn't realize we were such good friends that you'd come check on me in the hospital."

He rolls his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, Magnum. I'm only here because I need your statement for my file."

Ah. I nod slowly, wincing when the movement aggravates my headache. "Whatever I can do to help," I say, looking between Higgy and Katsumoto.

"Good." Katsumoto takes out his notebook. "So, I'm sure you've been filled in on the details, but those thieves had hit multiple other homes on the island before they broke into Robin's Nest the other night."

Higgy smiles at that. "Unfortunately for them, they didn't take Magnum or the lads into account."

"'Them'?" I protest, only half-jokingly. "What about me? I got stabbed, you know." I cough as the words scrape at my throat, although I have to admit the dramatic effect is nice. I take back that admission when the pain of the movement aggravates my injuries. Speaking also is taking much more effort than I'd expected, and I just hope I'm not as pale as I probably am.

Beside me, Higgy gives me a slightly raised eyebrow but doesn't say anything.

Katsumoto nods. "I heard. We have the security footage to prove it, but I am still going to need your statement," he adds.

I nod tiredly. "Right."

I'm grateful Katsumoto lets me go slowly as I recount the events from the moment I heard the first noise at the house until the last moment I remember, slipping into unconsciousness on the kitchen floor and sure I hear Higgy at the door. It's halting, and I have to go back a few times to add in details as I remember them.

When I finally finish, I'm exhausted—both from the effort of holding an extended conversation as well as the rush of memories now in my head. I sink back against the pillows and watch as Katsumoto makes some final notes.

Higgy clears her throat, and we both look over at her. "Yes, well, thank you for coming, Detective. I trust you have everything you need at the moment?" She lifts an eyebrow pointedly.

Catching the look she's giving him, Katsumoto nods and flips his notebook closed, tucking it in his pocket. "Sure. If I have any follow up questions, I'll check back in later."

Nodding in satisfaction, Higgy smiles charmingly. "Thank you. We appreciate you coming by."

"No problem," he replies. "Nice seeing you." Then he turns to me. "Get some rest, Magnum; I'll talk to you later." He gives us a parting smile and then ducks out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

"Thanks," I say to Higgy, knowing she knows what I mean.

"Yes, well, you're looking quite pale," she informs me. "I'm sure any more visitors can wait until you get some sleep."

I don't protest.

Higgy gets up to turn off the lights, and I smile as I watch her. I might still have miles to go before I can hope to be discharged, and I know I've got a lot to sort through mentally. From experience, I can already say it's going to take me some time, but it's time I have, thanks to my friends.

They're the best friends—family, really—that anyone could ask for. Regardless of how long it will take for me to get back on my feet, I know they'll be there every step of the way.

Fin.

A/N: Thanks for sticking with me through this whole crazy ride! I always love reviews, and getting to hear what you all thought of this story was fantastic. I honestly gave myself a lot of feels writing this story, which was supposed to be a short, slightly humorous/slightly whumpy one-shot and just spiraled out from there.

Big thanks go out to frankiemcstein for her help with ironing out wrinkles in the plot, helping me stay on course, and feeding my terribly angsty bunnies. Thanks also to dominatempore for also helping with the story details and to OllieCollie for her helpful suggestions and comments. You three really helped make this story what it is, and my fragile writer's ego and I are forever grateful.