Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Are you guys almost done?" Rick asked, walking over to join his friends in the dining room of La Mariana. He wrinkled his nose as he looked around at where several tables had been pushed out of the way, chairs resting upside down on top of them, to clear the way for the ladder that was set up on one side of the room.

"What's the rush?" Magnum asked, looking down from where he was perched on the ladder.

Rick sighed. "Well, it is getting late. I do want to go home at some point tonight you know."

"Rick, buddy, you can't rush good work," T.C. raised an eyebrow as he took another sip of his beer. "And this is what happens when you try to get out of coming in early by asking Magnum and Higgy to come at the end of the day instead."

From where she was standing between the table and the ladder, Higgins chuckled and looked up from the tablet cradled in her left arm. "We did tell you it would take some time," she remarked, amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Which is why we originally planned to come first thing."

Making a face, Rick sat down heavily in an empty chair across from T.C. "Fine. But if it takes too much longer, I'm leaving the key here and going home."

Magnum laughed as he turned his attention back to his examination of the ceiling. "Because that's the height of security. You know, this is your problem. I've been telling you for months you need a better security system, and yet it takes you finding a dead guy in your dining room for you to actually listen to me." He shook his head, the gesture adding to his commentary.

Rick rolled his eyes, then coughed when he caught the look T.C. was giving him. "Hey, we have cameras!" he defended.

"That only cover the register and the doors," Higgins pointed out.

"Which is how a guy ended up dying in our bar without anyone noticing until you opened up the next morning," T.C. added. He looked at Rick pointedly as the other two grinned.

"Hey!" Rick exclaimed, looking between his friends. "I already talked to the closing staff from that night! They didn't clean thoroughly, and that's how they never noticed."

Magnum shook his head. "And that's why you need an upgraded security system." He had to raise his voice slightly as he turned away from to measure a section of the ceiling across from Rick and T.C.'s table. "You gotta admit, Rick, your security is pretty lax—which means La Mariana is vulnerable to attack. If a dead body can lie on the floor all night without being noticed, that means someone could easily hide and wait for everyone to go home before they rob you blind and take off. Avoid the main cameras"—he turned and gestured to the very visible devices near the front of the bar—"and they'll be gone forever. Along with your money," he added as he shot a meaningful glance over his shoulder.

T.C. and Higgins laughed as Rick sighed dramatically.

"Right," Rick replied with a roll of his eyes. "I'm gonna go finish up the paperwork for the night since you two might be a while." He was complaining, but the twinkle of amusement in his eyes belied the tone of his voice.

He didn't get far before the doors to the kitchen flew open and two men barged through. Their sudden appearance was only slightly less surprising than the large black rifles they had slung on straps over their shoulders. Rifles which were pointed directly at the group of friends.

"Hey, what the—" Rick's shout was cut short when the intruder closest to him smashed the stock of the rifle into Rick's stomach.

The savage blow had Rick immediately bent over, silently gasping for air, but the gunman didn't give him a chance to recover. He brought the end of the gun down again, this time connecting with the back of Rick's shoulders in a move that sent Rick sprawling toward the ground with a choked cry that was mostly silent from the air that had already been stolen from his lungs. Grabbing a handful of fabric on the shoulder of Rick's shirt, his assailant dragged him toward the others and then shoved him directly into Higgins, who had started forward when the dark-haired gunman had attacked Rick.

Higgins barely managed to keep the two of them from hitting the floor too hard, although Rick's dead weight was still enough to drag her down.

T.C. had jumped to his feet when the two men had entered the bar and Magnum had taken the rungs of the ladder two at a time to hit the ground running, but neither had a chance to get past the table before the other gunman was waving his weapon between them.

"Ah, ah, ah," he barked as his friend released Rick.

Magnum and T.C. froze, and Higgins glanced up at the shout, her left hand resting on Rick's shoulder. He was seated on the tile but hunched over, his arm wrapped around his midsection; pain creased his face as he tried to get his breathing under control.

"Hands where we can see them!" came the order from the same, blond-haired man who had spoken a moment before. He was glaring threateningly at the others, and the way his finger was hovering just above the trigger wasn't lost on anyone.

Magnum swallowed and darted a look at T.C. They were at a disadvantage in their current positions, and he didn't have a weapon on him at the moment. Even if T.C. did, Magnum knew there was little chance of his friend being able to draw and get off a successful shot before one of the gunmen fired their own weapon. And the fact that there were two gunmen meant T.C. didn't stand much of a chance at all.

"Hands!" the man yelled again, and Magnum had no choice but to follow the command.

Out of the corner of his eye, Magnum saw T.C. reluctantly doing the same before he glanced over to his left to check on Rick and Higgins.

Rick was pale and clearly in pain, but he was still managing to glower up at their captors. Higgins was next to him, her hand still resting on Rick's arm, but Magnum noticed her other was out of sight, and her attention seemed split between the men and something Magnum couldn't quite make out. She darted another look at the intruders, then turned her attention back to Rick… although Magnum realized a moment later that she wasn't exactly looking at Rick, but, instead, at something on the floor between her and Rick.

'The tablet,' he remembered. He just hoped she was sending a message for help because there was no way he, T.C., or Rick were going to be able to call for help. Something told him it would be a very bad idea to go for his phone just then.

All of this had taken place in the span of a second or two, and Magnum turned his focus back to the two men pointing guns in their direction. He'd already sized them up the minute they'd come through the kitchen door. They were both tall and well-built, taller than Magnum himself but shorter than T.C. The one who'd hit Rick was pale, with dark eyes under bushy eyebrows, while his partner was a little taller and slightly more tan, with sandy hair and lighter eyes. Besides the rifles they were currently holding, both had a large sidearm tucked into their waistbands, and Magnum was pretty sure at least one of them had a backup weapon in an ankle holster.

There was also something very familiar about the two men, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it—

"Hey!" The blond man's exclamation was clearly directed at Higgins, and he waved his gun in her direction. "Both hands where we can see 'em."

She took a breath and, to Magnum's studious gaze, seemed to do one last thing before she nodded and slowly did as she'd been instructed.

The blond man gestured with his rifle to the table where the friends had been sitting moments before. "Get him into one of the chairs over here."

Magnum started to move toward his two friends on the floor. "Hey, why don't I—"

"I wasn't talking to you!" the man interrupted harshly. "And I'll shoot you if you take another step."

Tilting his head in acknowledgment, Magnum shifted back to stand where he had been a moment before, but he kept his weight on the balls of his feet. He was watching for an opening, and he planned to take the first one that presented itself. A quick glance at T.C., and Magnum knew his friend was thinking the same thing. He was pretty sure Higgy would jump in at a moment's notice as well; Rick, too, probably, although Magnum was getting concerned with how pale Rick still looked.

"Get him into that chair," the blond gunman repeated, nearly snarling the command as he turned back to Higgins.

She nodded silently in reply and slowly got to her feet, grabbing Rick's arm as she did so. At the same time, he put his free hand on the tile and pushed himself up; the wince that crossed his expression wasn't lost on any of his friends. Rick bit back a groan as he stood, then moved for the table.

Rick's face was wrinkled in pain with each step he took, and the way his breath sounded like it was hitching wasn't lost on any of them either. Higgins moved beside him, her hands lightly supporting him but ready to jump in if he needed more assistance.

Magnum and T.C. could tell both were angry, but Rick was in no condition to make a move and Higgins undoubtedly knew the same thing they did. There was no way any of them could rush the gunmen at the moment. Any move would be quickly met with gunfire, and all four of them were too far away to have a chance of reaching the gunmen before a bullet found its mark.

When Rick had limped over to join the others by the table, Higgins at his side, the blond one who had been giving the orders gestured again. As soon as Rick sank into the chair, the man turned his attention to the others. "Now, take a seat. All of you," he ordered.

Exchanging a glance with T.C., Magnum hesitated a fraction of a moment. He was still trying to determine if it would be possible to take the intruders down. The fact that there were only two was infuriating; in almost any other situation, two guys wouldn't be nearly enough to take on all four of them and succeed. But these men had gotten the drop on them and it would be suicide to try anything in their current predicament.

"Or do I need to shoot someone before the rest of you take me seriously?"

The way the rifle swung up to point at Rick, hunched over in the chair, wasn't lost on the others.

Higgins put up a hand, the movement drawing the intruder's aim up to her. "Come now; no need for theatrics," she said, keeping her voice even and calm. "We're listening. What is it you want?"

"If it's money"—Rick jumped in before the gunman could reply, his voice hoarse and rasping—"there's plenty of money in the office if that's what you want. We just closed on a really good day." He coughed. "You don't… don't have to go to all this trouble."

"You think we're here to rob you?" the blond man responded, snorting in amusement. "What's the matter, don't you recognize us?"

Something clicked in Magnum's brain then, the thought he'd been working on since the men had first arrived. He realized why he'd thought the men had looked familiar—because they were.

After the court-martial, he'd thought they'd never see Cunningham or Merrick again, but yet here they both were. Magnum had no idea how the men had ended up in Hawaii, but something in his gut told him they were there for revenge. It was the only thing that made any sense, and it was bad news for the four of them.

Based on the quick intake of breath he heard from T.C. and Rick, his friends had made the connection as well.

The blond man—Cunningham, Magnum recalled—grinned coldly. "Good. So you do remember us."

Magnum resisted the urge to clench his fists. The idea that these men were back for revenge on not just him but his friends as well made the roiling of his stomach even worse, but he was at a serious disadvantage to prevent it.

"Since I'm sure you're wondering, we got released a few months ago," Cunningham said, looking between the three prisoners across from him.

Magnum stiffened at the chilling tone to the man's words, but Cunningham continued before he could say anything.

"All those long months behind bars because of you."

"You landed yourself behind bars," Magnum growled, returning Cunningham's gaze with a harsh glare. He knew he was pushing his luck with the way the rifles were still aimed between him and his friends, but he couldn't resist the retort.

Cunningham just laughed before continuing as if Magnum hadn't even spoken. "You all need to pay for what you did to us. Thankfully, there was plenty of information on where four 'American heroes' had decided to move after their 'daring escape' from the Taliban." The sarcasm was heavy in his voice. "You know, I can't say I was sorry in the least to hear about your 'ordeal.' Someone else did beat us to Nuzo, but the rest of you were still here."

The look on Cunningham's face said he knew exactly what he was doing, and he was succeeding. Magnum clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to lunge for the man. He wouldn't get far—not with Cunningham armed and so far out of reach—but he was not going to hold back whenever the opportunity finally presented itself.

Cunningham glanced at Merrick, then turned back to the others, still smiling coldly. "We've been watching you three for a while, waiting for the perfect opportunity to make our move, and, wouldn't you know it, we noticed something interesting. You seem to have made pretty good lives for yourselves here, made new friends…" His gaze drifted over to Higgins and then chuckled at the reaction that drew from each of the four in front of him.

Before any of the others could respond, Merrick jumped in. "We were just going to take you one or two at a time—there are more of you than us after all—but then you all turned up here alone and we thought why not?" He shrugged, the cold satisfaction evident on his face. "We figured we'd get the drop on you easily enough, which it turns out we did, and, well, you can see how well that worked out."

"You heard Rick talking about us assessing his security after closing tonight," Magnum observed, the pieces clicking together in his mind. "And you figured you'd seize the opportunity." He looked between Cunningham and Merrick, weighing the chances of pulling off a bluff. "You know, we did call one of our other friends for a professional consultation," he continued, deciding to take the chance. "Detective Katsumoto from HPD should be here any minute, and he's going to know something's up."

The uncertain look that flashed over both of the gunmen's faces told him his words were having their desired effect.

"Did you lock the back door after you came through?" Magnum continued. "He'll see our cars outside and look for another way in when none of us answer the front door. You'd better—"

"Shut up!" Cunningham barked, cutting off the rest of Magnum's sentence. The anger and frustration were clearly written on his face. He took a small step forward, still too far away for anyone to make a move, then jumped forward and grabbed Higgins by the upper arm before stepping back again just as quickly. It was clear he'd intended to use the threat against her to intimidate the others into doing as they were told, but his action had the opposite effect.

The sudden movement from Cunningham prompted a flurry of movement from the others. Magnum and T.C. both moved without hesitation, each going for the guy closest to them.

T.C. cleared the table in one long stride and lunged for Merrick, who was momentarily distracted by his friend's movement. It seemed he hadn't been expecting the other man to go for Higgins.

Meanwhile, Magnum rushed over to help Higgins. He knew she was more than capable of holding her own, but Cunningham was also over a head taller than she was and much more muscular. Even though she knew how to fight better than many people Magnum had met, it wouldn't make a difference when she was so obviously outmatched.

But he'd barely passed Rick's chair when a sickeningly familiar pop filled the air. It was followed by a pained sound from T.C., and Magnum didn't even have to look to know what had just happened.

He barely had a chance to glance over and see that he was right when a cry of pain from Higgins and a shout from Cunningham pulled his attention away from the stun gun Merrick had used on T.C. and back to the others.

"Stop or I shoot her!"

Cunningham had Higgins' right arm twisted behind her back, pulling her wrist up between her shoulder blades. Magnum could see the pain written across her face as the taller man made use of the difference in height to apply pressure to the hold.

But what really grabbed Magnum's attention was the handgun the man was holding to Higgins' temple.

The rifle was hanging from Cunningham's shoulder, where he'd dropped it to draw the pistol from its holster. He stared at Magnum threateningly, his finger seeming to twitch just above the trigger as he growled. "Don't take another step."

Magnum froze, his thoughts spinning as he tried to figure out his next move. He met Higgins' eyes, trying to work out what they could do to gain the upper hand.

Behind the pain creasing her face, she looked frustrated with the entire situation. Then her eyes widened slightly and she inhaled sharply as Cunningham yanked on her arm even further.

"You think I'm joking?" he snapped, pushing the barrel of the gun so it dug deeper into the side of his hostage's head.

Higgins sucked in a quick breath that hissed between her clenched teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, grimacing as the motion shoved her head to the right, which increased the pressure on her shoulder.

"I will kill her."

Magnum raised his hands to his sides, trying to appear placating while also looking for any kind of opening. "Okay, let's all just—"

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence before something hard connected with the back of his head.

He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

T.C. took a deep breath and gritted his teeth against the way all of his muscles seemed to be rebelling.

He couldn't afford to worry about himself at the moment, though. Merrick had pulled the stun gun away after several long seconds, and T.C. had collapsed to the floor. It felt like he'd been completely drained of energy, and his entire body was aching and throbbing.

But then he'd forced himself to concentrate on the moment. His friends were in danger, and he had to do something to help. He couldn't just tap out of the fight.

He blinked his weary eyes open just in time to see Thomas collapsing to the ground, Merrick standing over him.

"You didn't have to do that!" Cunningham snapped, and T.C.'s slow gaze drifted over to the other man.

He felt a surge of adrenaline as he saw the man was holding Higgy prisoner. Her right arm was twisted behind her back and he was holding a gun to her head. T.C. was willing to bet Cunningham had been using her to threaten Magnum before Merrick had decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Now we have to move him," the blond man added disapprovingly.

Merrick didn't seem fazed by the glare from his partner. "Yeah, well, he was getting on my nerves. And don't you remember he was the SEAL? He'd probably have figured out some way to get the drop on you," he added with a roll of his eyes. "But don't worry," Merrick added, giving Magnum's limp form a sharp kick in the side that had T.C. wincing in sympathy. "He's out like a light."

T.C. wanted to jump up from his place on the floor and take down both of the men while their backs were turned, but he knew he couldn't hope to win. Not with how sluggish he still felt and the fact that Cunningham had Higgins. He'd have to wait it out and hope for an opening he could actually take.

As he watched, Cunningham stepped forward, shoving at Higgy as he moved. She bit down on a cry at the way the movement jerked at her shoulder, and T.C. could see the way the pain on her face increased as the much taller Cunningham forced her arm upward more as he pushed her toward the chairs scattered around the table the friends had occupied.

When they reached one of the empty chairs, Cunningham used the leverage he had on his prisoner's arm to spin her around and force her to sit.

She started up again as soon as he'd released her, but he put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down roughly.

"If you try to get away, we will shoot one of your friends," Cunningham threatened.

To illustrate his buddy's point, Merrick turned the gun in his hands to point down at where Magnum was lying on the floor. He grinned up at Higgins, and T.C. clenched his fist.

Higgins' jaw tightened, but the threat worked.

When T.C. glanced past her to where Rick was still seated in one of the chairs nearby, he immediately saw an expression on his friend's face that mirrored his own thoughts. There was nothing either of them wanted more than to jump up and help Higgins, but they knew any movement on their part would end up in someone being shot. They were outgunned and at a disadvantage, and they were going to have to wait for an opening before they could do anything.

Meanwhile, Cunningham was circling behind Higgins' chair as he pulled a zip tie from his back pocket. He reached around Higgins and grabbed her left arm, yanking it behind her, then doing the same to her right. She winced as the movement aggravated her shoulder but didn't say anything as she was restrained, biting her lip as the tie tightened around her wrists.

"Now, that's better," Cunningham grunted, standing back from the chair. "You should know, this isn't anything against you. We both think you'd be a lot of fun to get to know. But your friends did us wrong, and it's only fair they suffer for what they did."

"Fair, hm?" Higgins snorted. "You mean you spent time behind bars for breaking the law and that's somehow their fault? In my experience, men like you get caught sooner or later; it's just a matter of—"

She broke off as Cunningham backhanded her across the face, the chair tilting as the blow rocked her sideways.

"You don't know anything about us!" he snapped.

Higgins coughed. "I know you didn't check the back door after my friend pointed it out to you, so the only conclusion is that you don't know what you're doing at all." She managed to sound like Cunningham was a bothersome fly buzzing around her ear rather than a violent criminal out for revenge.

There was a brief pause, then Cunningham growled out a sigh. He waved a hand at Merrick. "Go check the door," he muttered reluctantly. "I'll keep an eye on these guys; they're not going anywhere."

Merrick nodded, glancing at Rick in a nearby chair, then back at Higgins. "Got it. I'll be right back."

T.C. allowed himself a brief smirk but then closed his eyes again as Merrick turned toward the back room. Hopefully he could continue the ruse that he was still out from the stun gun a few moments before. With the two men separated, there was a chance T.C. could take down Cunningham before Merrick came back. It was a very slim chance, but it was his only shot.

It seemed Rick had been thinking the same thing because no sooner had Merrick disappeared through the door into the kitchen than Rick jumped from the chair and tackled Cunningham from behind.

Their captor clearly hadn't been expecting the attack, and he went down with a startled yell with Rick on top of him.

That was all T.C. needed to leap up from the floor. There was no way Merrick hadn't heard the shout, and they needed to get the situation under control before Cunningham's partner came back.

He glanced at where Rick was just ducking a swing from Cunningham. T.C. knew he couldn't just sit by and let his buddy go up against Cunningham by himself; judging from the way Rick already looked unsteady on his feet, he must still be feeling the effects of the blow to the head from before. There was no way he would last long fighting his opponent alone.

But Rick seemed like he was holding his own for the moment, and so T.C. rushed for the chair Higgins was currently tied to. He gave her a grim smile as their eyes met, which she returned gratefully. Impatience seemed to be dancing in her eyes as well, which T.C. understood; he also wanted to jump in and help Rick. But first things first; he needed to free Higgy.

He pulled out his pocketknife as he neared the chair but, just then, heard the sound of footsteps that told him Merrick was back. T.C. turned to see the man momentarily pause in the doorway, and T.C. knew he had to do something.

It seemed Higgy had seen it too, and she jerked at her bound wrists. "Just give me the knife!" she urged quietly.

T.C. knew she was right. It was the quickest way, and someone needed to help Rick. And so he rushed to lean over and press the unopened tool into her right hand before turning back to the scene unfolding in front of him.

He saw Cunningham land a blow on Rick's jaw that sent him stumbling back, but then Merrick was rushing forward and T.C. had to focus all of his attention on the shorter, dark-haired man.

Practically running to meet Merrick halfway, T.C. lowered his head and caught the man in his best football tackle, taking him to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

He noted with satisfaction when the other man hit the floor with a grunt, then had to duck aside as Merrick threw a fist at his face. He followed up with a punch of his own, which Merrick wasn't able to avoid, but then grunted at the impact of the other man's uppercut managing to land in his stomach.

T.C. coughed and shook his head to clear it, but he gave the other man enough time to shift his weight and roll to the side. The movement was enough to throw T.C. off-balance, and Merrick managed to wriggle free.

They rolled over on the floor, each fighting to gain the upper hand in the fight, and T.C. only caught a brief glance of Rick in the middle of a similar struggle. But that was all T.C. was able to see before a foot landing in his side pulled all of his focus back to his opponent.

He just hoped Higgy had gotten herself free and would be able to locate a gun.

Rick didn't have time to do much more than note that T.C. had taken on Merrick before he had to turn back to his own opponent.

He knew he needed to take Cunningham down and fast. His head was spinning, something in his side was aching and sending bolts of pain through him with each movement, and Rick wasn't sure how much longer he could stay on his feet. But he also knew he had to keep going.

Burying his fist in Cunningham's stomach, Rick tried to avoid the retaliatory swing, but he wasn't fast enough and felt the blow land on the side of his face, sending him stumbling to the side.

Rick shook the stars from his vision just in time to side-step another punch. His jaw ached and his cheek throbbed just underneath his right eye. He ducked and took advantage of the opening from Cunningham trying to hit him to come up and deliver a blow of his own.

And then, before Rick could block it, Cunningham slammed a fist into Rick's lower chest, driving all of the air from his lungs and sending him stumbling backward.

Rick felt himself falling, which was suddenly and violently halted as he slammed into a sharp, hard surface. He barely had time to realize he'd hit the corner of the table before a burst of pain flared through his side.

Rick gasped breathlessly as he fell forward, his knees threatening to give out as he stumbled to catch his balance. Something cold and yet fiery was spreading through his chest, the room had gone gray, and everything sounded like it was coming from far away. He couldn't see, couldn't process anything as his body fought just to take another breath, so he couldn't anticipate his opponent's follow-up strike.

The blow snapped his head to the side, and he felt the pain explode through his cheek and into his already pounding head. He couldn't catch himself as he dropped to the ground, and he felt the impact rattle through him. Still struggling to breathe, Rick fought to clear his vision, to make out what was going on around him so he could do something.

He shook his head, his vision still hazy and spinning, and pulled his hands slowly under him—

And then something hard slammed into his stomach, flipping him over onto his back, and Rick gasped out a hoarse cry as more pain flashed through him. He barely had time to curl protectively in on himself before he was hit—kicked?—in the side, hard enough for him to feel something give with a sickening crack that seemed to echo up through his chest into his head.

Rick knew he had to get up before Cunningham took him out of the fight for good. At least… he knew he needed to, but that didn't change the fact that he couldn't get up. He couldn't seem to clear his vision to concentrate long enough. If anything, the darkness was only growing with the pain. It was threatening to drag him down into unconsciousness, and he was tempted to let it, but he knew he couldn't give in now, not when his friends needed him.

He swallowed, trying to stuff the pain into a back corner of his mind. It was easier said than done, and he had to fight just to take a deep enough breath past the way every inhale seemed to set his stomach and side burning all over again.

It was no use, though. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't make himself get up, he couldn't…

In the next moment, there was a shout from somewhere above him, followed by the sounds of a struggle, and Rick frowned. What…

He shook his head and blinked hard, trying to bring his surroundings into focus. His vision cleared only slightly, shadows dancing at the edges, and he tilted his head in confusion.

Jules was now on her feet, darting to evade Cunningham's reach then rushing in to deliver a series of jabs to his torso before jumping back.

But, as Rick watched, the other man managed to land a blow of his own. The force of it drove Jules backward so quickly she nearly tripped, and then Cunningham hit her again. The second punch sent her reeling to the floor, and Rick tried to push to his feet to help.

Thomas beat him to it, and Rick blinked as he wondered when his friend had woken up. The last he'd seen, Thomas had still been lying unconscious on the floor. Rick wasn't about to argue that fact though.

Squinting past the blurriness of his vision, Rick noted with satisfaction that Cunningham seemed to be moving more slowly than he had moments before. The man looked like he was favoring his right side where Rick knew he'd landed a particularly hard blow.

Rick just hoped the others could take care of Cunningham on their own because, as much as Rick knew he should get up and help, his attempt to push to his feet sent another flash of pain through him so fast he nearly blacked out again.

He collapsed against the ground, panting, his breath coming in shallow bursts that set his chest burning all over again with each one. Everything was growing more and more hazy, and the pull of unconsciousness was becoming too much for him to fight any longer.

Magnum slowly forced his eyes open, struggling to remember what had happened even as he fought to bring his surroundings into focus. It felt like he was still floating in a haze, his head was pounding, and he couldn't seem to make his mind concentrate on anything. His head felt too heavy, and he let it drop as his eyes slipped closed again. 

And then there was a cry of pain from somewhere close by and everything suddenly came rushing back. He had to clench his jaw at the rush of pain that accompanied the jolt of adrenaline that spiked through him, then taking a deep breath through his nose and ignoring the way the throbbing of his head increased in intensity, he forced himself to open his eyes and take in the room.

It took more effort than he'd expected, and he found his breath starting to come more quickly than a moment before. But then another shout had him glancing to the left so quickly the world tilted around him. He knew Merrick had hit him and something was definitely wrong, but he didn't have time to worry about himself right then.

And then his gaze refocused, and he quickly looked from where T.C. was exchanging blows with Merrick to where Higgins was fighting what appeared to be a losing battle with Cunningham.

Rick was crumpled on the floor nearby, and Magnum couldn't tell much about his friend's condition. He seemed to be trying to get back up, but he wasn't succeeding.

Magnum looked back to where Higgins was trying to hold her own against Cunningham just in time to see the man deliver a devastating blow that drove her to the floor. That was the last bit of motivation Magnum needed, and he quickly scrambled to his feet. It was probably ungainly and uncoordinated to anyone watching, but that was the last thing he cared about at the moment.

He barreled forward, taking Cunningham by surprise as he hit him just below the belt.

Cunningham went stumbling back, away from Higgins—who, Magnum briefly had time to notice, hadn't moved from where she'd fallen near the table. But he didn't have time to worry about that because Cunningham had turned and delivered a particularly vicious blow to Magnum's side.

It felt like all of his breath left him, and he doubled over involuntarily. Cunningham took advantage of the opening to drive several more punches home in Magnum's abdomen, and Magnum groaned as he felt something give under the second particularly sharp blow that hit him in the exact spot that had already been throbbing.

He lashed out with his own fist, just barely catching Cunningham's chin but not doing much damage.

But something distracted Cunningham then, and the man glanced in the direction where T.C. and Merrick had been struggling—which, Magnum realized in the pause in the fighting, it was now very quiet.

Cunningham seemed to make up his mind about something and turned back to Magnum, pulling up his knee to drive it into Magnum's stomach.

When Magnum again hunched over, his body curling in on the injury, Cunningham slammed his elbow into the bottom of his neck.

The blow dropped Magnum in a heap on the floor, and he couldn't hold back the exclamation that was somewhere between a groan and a shout as he fell. He tried to pull his legs up to protect himself, wincing but trying to ignore the pain as he fully expected Cunningham to follow up the move with more blows or perhaps kicks—but nothing came.

The sound of quickly receding footsteps told him the other man had decided to flee, and Magnum took a breath and forced his eyes open to see what was going on.

Cunningham was gone, but Magnum didn't have a chance to look around for him before T.C. was hurrying up beside him.

"Hey, T.M., talk to me," T.C. said worriedly. Magnum didn't miss the wince as his buddy squatted down beside him.

But Magnum ignored the question in favor of looking around the bar. "Where's Cunningham?"

"He must've decided it wasn't worth sticking around," T.C. replied with a shrug. "He ran out the back when he noticed I'd knocked out Merrick."

Magnum chuckled, then winced at the way the motion pulled at his side. Yeah, he definitely had some damaged ribs, if he had to guess, probably a bunch of other things too that he didn't want to think about. "Good job, bro," he said, grimacing at how hoarse his voice sounded.

Dropping his hands to the floor beside him, Magnum pushed to a sitting position and then took a breath at the exertion. T.C. extended a hand and Magnum grabbed it. Both groaned as T.C. helped Magnum stand, but they didn't say a word except to turn to their fallen friends.

T.C. was closest to Rick, and Magnum didn't hesitate in turning toward where Higgins was lying by the table.

She was lying on her side, her head right next to one of the table's legs, telling him she'd most likely hit the hard piece of metal when she'd fallen.

Taking care not to move her in case he'd accidentally aggravate a neck injury, Magnum quickly checked her over. There was a cut on her cheek, probably from where a punch had split the skin during the fistfight but not deep enough to be of concern. She'd also have plenty of bruises, but, outwardly, she seemed to be okay overall. However, Magnum was much more concerned with what damage the head injury might have done.

Movement nearby had him looking up, and he saw T.C. shifting where he was sitting by Rick. T.C. might be awake, but Magnum was no less concerned for him. He'd just gone several rounds with Merrick, not to mention if there was any remaining effect from his being shocked with the stun gun. And, even though T.C. had eventually taken Merrick down, the split lip and various abrasions on his face told how it had not been an easy victory.

It was hard for Magnum to tell how badly the other man was injured otherwise, though; besides the stun gun, he wasn't sure what else their captors might have done to T.C., and he was worried there might be more going on than he knew about.

"Hey, T.C."

His friend's head came up at that, and T.C. blinked at him. "Hm?"

"How's our boy?" Magnum asked, glancing at Rick.

"Oh." T.C. blinked. "He's… We need to call an ambulance."

Swallowing, Magnum nodded; he'd guessed as much. A quick glance at Higgy told him she was still unconscious. He started to reach for his pocket, his sore muscles protesting, and he winced as he had to shift his weight to pull out the device.

As he started to tap at the screen, the sound of sirens down the street caught his attention.

Magnum looked up to meet T.C.'s gaze, his confusion turning to understanding after a brief moment. "Higgy," he said.

"What?" T.C. asked.

"She was typing something on the tablet when they first came in," Magnum explained, looking over at where the device was still lying on the floor. It had been kicked off to the side during one of the scuffles, and he wasn't sure if the screen was still intact or not. "I guess she got a message off."

The sirens were louder now, accompanied by strobing lights, and the two men could hear the sounds of cars pulling up outside the bar and car doors opening.

"Guess we should go unlock the door," T.C. remarked, trying to push to a standing position. His voice was shaky, and his stance was worse.

Magnum sighed. "Sit down before you kill yourself."

Frowning, T.C. still obeyed the instruction, although it was hard to tell whether that was because he wanted to or because his body was giving him no other choice.

Satisfied that T.C. wasn't about to make himself worse by going to the door, Magnum took another breath and got to his feet. Everything in him protested the movement, and he could feel the trembling in his muscles that threatened to have him back on the floor in a moment. But he just clenched his teeth and pushed through.

When he reached the door, he could see multiple police cars in the front parking lot, as well as one unmarked unit that he was certain was Katsumoto's. And, sure enough, the detective was already approaching the bar.

"Magnum!" Katsumoto yelled, his voice carrying through the glass door.

Magnum didn't bother to respond; the detective would find out what had happened soon enough. Instead, Magnum just unlocked the door and pushed it open, leaning heavily on the handle. He wasn't sure he could stay standing if he let go and so followed the outward motion of the door to step outside.

"Hey, what happened?" Katsumoto was by his side in an instant, clearly ready to help the minute the other man needed it. "Are you okay?"

Magnum leaned more heavily on the door handle that was supporting him and managed a nod. "Yeah, I… yeah." He felt like he needed to answer the first question, but he couldn't quite remember what it was.

Giving him a serious look, Katsumoto just nodded and took a breath. "Okay," he said, glancing inside.

Magnum knew the man wouldn't be able to see the others from where he was standing; the half-wall and tables would be obscuring any view of the three on the floor inside. "They're in there," he said, managing to wave a hand in the general direction of the bar's interior. "You need to call an ambulance."

"Don't worry," Katsumoto said, shifting his attention back to Magnum as uniformed officers moved past them into La Mariana. "Paramedics are already on their way."

Nodding slowly, Magnum swallowed. "How, uh, how'd you know? Was it Higgy?"

Katsumoto smiled and nodded. "She sent me a message," he replied. "I just didn't see it right away because I was at another scene." His words sounded regretful.

"Don't… blame yourself," Magnum told him, swallowing again and taking another breath. With the adrenaline wearing off, he was starting to feel the effects of everything he'd been through. His muscles were aching, his head was spinning, and he suddenly wasn't sure he could keep himself upright any longer.

"Magnum?" Katsumoto asked, concern filling the question.

"I… need to sit down." He managed to sink ungracefully to the ground, just barely heading off an actual collapse, and closed his eyes against the way everything was spinning around him and the lights from the cop cars were blurring into one mass of color.

A hand patted his shoulder, and he heard Katsumoto's voice from somewhere nearby.

"Just hold on. Help's on the way."

Chapter Text

"Magnum, did you hear me?"

He looked up with a start at the sound of his name. The way Katsumoto was watching him made it clear Magnum hadn't heard whatever it was the other man had been saying. Honestly, Magnum wasn't even sure exactly when he'd zoned out.

"Sorry." He rubbed a hand over his face and flashed an apologetic look at Katsumoto, who was standing at the foot of Higgins' hospital bed.

The detective's expression softened slightly. "Hey, we're going to find him, okay? Cunningham might have gotten away, but he can't hide for long. The whole island's looking for him."

Magnum nodded and sighed, then winced and gingerly put a hand to his left side at the twinge the breath had caused. He'd sustained a couple of cracked ribs during the ordeal at La Mariana, and the drugs were only doing so much to mute the pain. He massaged his temple with his other hand, also wishing the medication could do more for his headache. It felt like his head was about to explode, and the pressure inside his skull was making it impossible to concentrate on anything for very long.

His doctor hadn't been happy when Magnum had refused to stay in bed. He'd been admitted to a room and repeatedly told he needed to rest. Between the concussion, severe bruising, and injured ribs, he supposed there was cause for concern. But Magnum knew from personal experience how disorienting it was to wake up alone in a strange room, in pain and confused, and he didn't want either of his friends to go through that if they didn't have to.

Plus, there was no way he and T.C. were about to leave Higgins and Rick on their own, not with Cunningham still on the loose. Although both of their friends were stable, they were also in the worst condition of the four.

Higgins had a pulled muscle in her shoulder from where it had been twisted behind her, and the fight had left her bruised and sore. Most concerning, though, was the injury from where she'd hit her head on the table. There was some worry about possible internal bleeding, and her doctor was keeping her sedated until the swelling went down.

As for Rick, the damage done by the butt of Merrick's rifle had been exacerbated by the blows he'd taken during his fight with Cunningham. The concussion had him shying away from bright lights, and he was currently sitting in a dimmed hospital room, on strict bed rest with a broken rib and bruised kidney. Considering the scars he carried from what he'd been through in Afghanistan, his doctor didn't want to take any chances.

The doctors were concerned about that factor for all three of the men, but the last thing either T.C. or Magnum was going to do was relax in a hospital bed and leave their friends in danger. In the face of the two men demanding the paperwork to sign themselves out, their doctors had reluctantly agreed—as long as Magnum and T.C. promised to stay as still as possible and not do anything strenuous.

Before he'd been allowed to leave his room, Magnum had been sternly warned—threatened was probably a better word, come to think of it—of the need for a wheelchair if he didn't follow instructions to the letter. He was just glad he had managed to win the argument that he should be allowed to wear regular clothes instead of an open-backed hospital gown if he was going to be out of bed. The agreement had come with the caveat that he wear a button-down rather than a t-shirt, but Magnum was okay with that; he didn't exactly feel like lifting his hands above his head anyway, and it meant he could feel somewhat normal again.

Honestly, he wanted nothing more than to check himself out of the hospital and join the manhunt for Cunningham, but he had been forced to admit his doctor was right when the effort to change had exhausted him. However much he wanted to, there was no way he could go running around the island in his current condition. It wasn't just that Katsumoto would object; Magnum genuinely wasn't sure he could.

He and T.C. had split up watch duties, T.C. sitting with Rick and Magnum with Higgins. They knew Katsumoto had already posted officers in the hall outside of each door for extra security, but they were worried about their friends and neither T.C. nor Magnum wanted to leave anything to chance. No one knew what Cunningham's next move was going to be, but the fact that he and Merrick had tracked the friends to Hawaii made them suspect Cunningham might come after any one of them rather than simply fleeing the island. The man had been dreaming of revenge for years; someone like that was not going to let his plans go easily.

Magnum was just glad Kumu was out of town for the week. It would have made things that much worse if Merrick and Cunningham had been able to get to her as well; he didn't even want to think about that possibility.

"Magnum."

He blinked and sheepishly turned to meet Katsumoto's gaze, realizing that he'd zoned out again while the other man was talking to him.

Katsumoto raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you don't want to go rest for a while? Officer Park will be right outside to keep an eye on Higgins. I know you're concerned about Cunningham, but you don't have to push yourself like this."

It was a tempting idea, but Magnum shook his head, ignoring the way his head was pounding and his side was hitching. "No, I'm fine. Really," he insisted when the detective continued to look concerned. "I'm good."

It wasn't that he didn't trust HPD, but Cunningham and Merrick had made things personal. And if Magnum couldn't be out there hunting Cunningham down, then he was going to do whatever he needed to protect his friends until the threat was gone.

Besides, with the way he felt at the moment, he would much rather stay where he was than try to limp through the halls to his own room.

Katsumoto didn't look like he believed the answer, but he didn't press further. "Okay, well," he said, "I need to get back out there, but I'll keep you updated."

"Thanks." Magnum managed to muster a nod of appreciation. He really was grateful for what Katsumoto was doing; he just couldn't find the energy to offer much more of a response. He could feel the pressure building behind his eyes, which were already burning in exhaustion.

"I'll check back in later," Katsumoto promised. He gave Magnum a nod in parting and then swung the door open and stepped into the hallway.

In the quiet of the dim room after the door had closed, Magnum found the weight of the day settling on his shoulders. He kept telling himself he needed to stay awake, but the thought was nothing against the utter exhaustion swamping him.

He rubbed a hand over his face and tried to focus past the throbbing of his head. He couldn't afford to fall asleep. Higgy was counting on him, and he couldn't—wouldn't—let her down. He'd been tired before, but he always pushed through. This was no different than any of the missions he'd been on over the years. Stay awake, watch his buddy's six, be ready to spring into action the moment he was needed.

But his eyes were still burning, his head spinning… Magnum took a breath, trying to calm his breathing. He felt himself starting to drift off and just couldn't muster enough energy to fight off the drowsiness, as much as he tried…

'At least there's someone right outside the door,' was his last thought before dropping off.

It felt like no time at all had passed when his eyes flew open. There had been a muffled noise somewhere off to the side that had woken him.

He froze, trying to determine how much time had passed. He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep, and there was a knotted feeling of dread in his gut with the realization that he'd failed in staying awake.

Glancing over at the bed, he blinked, trying to clear his mind. His bleary vision took a moment to focus, but, when it did, every muscle immediately tensed.

The fact that the figure standing by the bed was wearing scrubs gave Magnum pause, but something didn't make sense. He had a nagging feeling this wasn't a regular visit by one of the staff, and there was something familiar about the other man…

In the shadows filling the room, it was hard to make out details, and Magnum's mind was still fogged with the remnants of his interrupted nap.

Something glinted in the man's hand then, catching Magnum's eye. It wasn't a medical instrument, he suddenly noticed, but a knife.

With that shock, everything suddenly seemed crystal clear, and Magnum realized he was staring at Cunningham.

Magnum didn't know how the man had gotten into the room, but that didn't exactly matter at the moment. The only thing he was focused on was the knife that was now inches from Higgy.

Ignoring the way his entire body protested the movement, Magnum threw himself out of the chair. Cunningham didn't even have time to turn before Magnum caught him around the waist.

They crashed into the wall, barely missing the medical equipment next to the bed. Magnum felt the shock of the collision roll through him and couldn't hold back a sharp yell of pain. He grabbed for the knife and managed to get his grip around Cunningham's right fist, but a blow to his cheek sent him stumbling and his hands slipped.

The room was starting to spin, but Magnum just shook his head to clear it and jumped back into the fight. The only thought running through his mind was keeping the knife away from Higgins.

When Magnum lunged again, Cunningham slashed the blade toward him. Magnum dodged the swipe, barely managing to alter his momentum in time to avoid being stabbed, and the blade glanced across his left forearm. He hissed at the sharp pain as he stumbled, then recovered and went for Cunningham again.

This time, his opponent stepped aside at the last moment, too late for Magnum to anticipate the move. There was a flash of fire as the blade swept across his right side under his outstretched arm, and Magnum pulled back, hand going protectively to the wound. He felt blood between his fingers and growled in anger as much as pain. That was a rookie move, leaving himself open like that; he should have seen it coming.

Cunningham was advancing again, and Magnum concentrated on the blade as it raced toward him. He tensed, waiting until the last possible second to reach out.

He managed to catch the other man's wrist, even though the strain of the sudden movement yanked at his injured ribs and knife wound, making him struggle for every breath. Bringing his leg up in a move that made Magnum clench his jaw at the fresh burst of pain, he drove a knee into Cunningham's stomach at the same time as he twisted the man's arm. Magnum heard a soft grunt in response, but then Cunningham yanked back against his grip and nearly slipped free.

At the same time, Cunningham struck out with his left hand, catching Magnum in the side of the head with the back of his fist.

The blow caused everything to go fuzzy, and Magnum felt his knees go weak. His side was throbbing painfully and his breath was coming in tight gasps, but he fought to stay conscious. He wasn't sure what had happened to the officer who was supposed to be outside of the room, but there was no way someone hadn't heard the sounds of the struggle. Help would arrive soon; he just had to hold on until then. If he didn't… he didn't want to think about that.

Knowing he couldn't stay on his feet much longer, Magnum tightened his grip on Cunningham's arm and let his weight drop. The move worked like he'd hoped and dragged his opponent down with him.

Magnum managed to shift his weight in midair, and they hit the tile floor hard with Cunningham on his back and Magnum over him. However, Magnum was still unsteady, and the other man took full advantage of the fact. In a flash, Magnum found himself blinking up at Cunningham's shadowy form.

Somehow, he still had hold of Cunningham's knife hand—which was straining to bring the weapon down. Magnum's muscles burned from the effort of pushing against Cunningham's arm, keeping it in the air, and he struggled desperately to keep his grip. He knew the man would use the knife against him if he let go or slipped, but it was getting harder and harder to hold on. The already dim hospital room was growing darker by the second, and Magnum could feel his arms trembling at the continued exertion.

In the next moment, there was a yell from the doorway of the room, followed by a shout from a very familiar—and very welcome—voice.

"Stop or I'll shoot!"

Magnum allowed himself a small sigh of relief. If T.C. was there, it was going to be okay.

Unfortunately, the lapse in Magnum's concentration was all Cunningham needed to wrest free of his opponent's steadily weakening grasp.

Magnum saw the flash of the knife descending toward him and tried to put his hands up to block the blow, but his arms were suddenly leaden and wouldn't obey.

The loud report of a gunshot rang out nearby—once, twice—and the downward motion of the blade halted.

Cunningham's body jerked with the impact of the bullets, there was the sound of the knife clattering to the floor, and the man slumped forward.

As Cunningham collapsed, Magnum had the brief thought that he should move, but he couldn't manage to pull himself from under the other man in time. He hissed at the sharp pain in his side at the sudden dead weight on top of him. The pressure he'd been feeling was exponentially worse, and his chest was alarmingly tight. His breath was coming faster and faster, but it didn't feel like any of the air was getting to his lungs.

Pinpoints of light prickled across his dimming vision. Somewhere above him, he could make out T.C. pushing Cunningham's limp form aside, but nothing improved even when the extra weight disappeared. He heard his friend call his name but was feeling weaker by the second and couldn't seem to find the breath to respond…

He blinked hard, but it was no use. A cold feeling was quickly spreading through him, and he was unconscious before his eyes slipped closed.

T.C. took a deep breath as he headed toward Higgy's room. Rick had been taken back for scans and tests, and rather than sit around in an empty room, T.C. decided to walk down to check in on Higgins and Thomas.

It had been a while since Thomas had texted with any updates, but T.C. figured there might not be any yet. The other man had been pretty bad off, even though he'd stubbornly insisted he was well enough to sit next to a hospital bed. And, although T.C. would have rathered Thomas take it easy, he knew his friend would never stand for that, not while Cunningham was still on the loose. Which was understandable; T.C. wouldn't either. Everything that had happened was a lot to process, and T.C. just hoped HPD would be able to track down the fugitive before someone else got hurt.

He was considering texting Katsumoto to ask for an update when he rounded the corner, caught sight of the door to Higgins' room hanging slightly ajar, and noticed the officer on duty was gone.

T.C. jogged forward, then broke into a run as his stomach knotted in dread. A nagging feeling he couldn't shake was telling him something was terribly wrong, and he couldn't move fast enough.

When he neared the room, he could hear the sounds of a scuffle coming from inside, and T.C. wasted no time throwing the door open the rest of the way and rushing inside—pulling up short when he nearly tripped over a limp form just inside the doorway.

A glance told him it was Officer Park, but the fight going on in the middle of the room immediately commanded T.C.'s attention.

Thomas was on the floor, locked in a struggle with a larger man in scrubs. For a brief moment, T.C. was confused about what was happening, but then his eyes fully adjusted to the dim interior of the room, and he realized who it was.

Cunningham.

Thomas was pinned under the other man's weight, and T.C. could see his friend fighting to keep a large knife up and away from him. There was blood smeared on the floor around the two men, but it was impossible to tell whose it was. At the moment, though, it didn't matter. Judging from the way Thomas was faltering, T.C. knew he needed to do something fast.

Reaching down, he unsnapped Park's holster and pulled the pistol from it. "Stop or I'll shoot!" he yelled, bringing it up to bear on the figure leaning over his friend.

But Cunningham didn't listen. He didn't even glance at T.C. Instead, he just curled his lip in a snarl and yanked his arm free from his opponent's grip.

T.C. fired as Cunningham brought the knife down toward Thomas's chest, two quick shots that hit his target center-mass. The knife clattered to the floor as the man slumped forward.

"Thomas!" T.C. yelled, rushing to kick the knife away and shove Cunningham off of his friend. He immediately noticed the criminal was dead, but T.C. didn't feel the least bit sorry about it. Setting the gun to the side, he turned to his friend.

"Hey, hey, talk to me." T.C. reached over and hit the call button on the side of the hospital bed. He knew the sound of the gunshots would bring staff running, but it wouldn't hurt to urge them on and tell them exactly where they were needed.

He quickly glanced over Higgins at the same time, breathing a sigh of relief as he took in the normal readout on the machines beside her bed. She was fine, he reassured himself, just still under the effects of the sedative.

When he turned his attention back to Thomas, T.C. noticed his friend's eyes were darting around without seeming to concentrate on anything. Thomas's breathing sounded like it was catching on something every time he inhaled; it was fast and shallow, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

Footsteps pounded in the hallway, but T.C. didn't look up. He quickly continued to check his friend over, searching for the source of the blood still pooling on the floor under him. He winced when he spotted the cut on Thomas's arm and the deep slice in the right side of his shirt that was already soaked in blood. With a lack of anything close at hand, T.C. pressed down on his friend's side with his bare hand, trying to stem the flow of blood until one of the medical staff could take over.

"Come on, T.M. Can you hear me?" he urged again. Shocked voices came from the doorway behind him as he patted his friend's cheek with his left hand. "Come on; look at me."

"What happened?" someone asked, and T.C. turned to see one of the nurses crouching beside him. The woman pushed T.C.'s hand aside and then shifted Thomas's shirt to get a better look at the knife wound.

T.C. sat back on his knees. "That's the guy the cops are looking for," T.C. said, gesturing to Cunningham, opting to skip over everything but the most important details. He could hear the way Thomas's breathing had gotten worse in the past seconds, see the way his friend's chest was hitching and the way he was sweating, and he knew there was no time. "I walked in on them fighting."

She nodded seriously as several more nurses joined them, and someone pressed a thick wad of gauze against the bleeding knife wound.

T.C. had to climb to his feet and move farther back to avoid the gurney being wheeled in.

Someone checked on Cunningham but, seconds later, confirmed what T.C. already knew. "He's dead," the nurse announced, his voice sounding clinically calm amid all the chaos.

And then Thomas was being rushed out of the room, medical staff intent on their task. When T.C. tried to follow, a slim woman in scrubs quickly stepped in front of him with a hand up.

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to wait here, sir," she said politely but firmly. "We'll update you as soon as we can, okay?" Then she gestured to the door. "We're going to have to move Ms. Higgins to another room. Why don't you clean up and have a seat in the waiting area? I'll come get you when she's settled."

T.C. sighed. He didn't like it, but he didn't really have a choice. With a nod, he turned toward the door, noting the empty floor where Park had been, and paused. "The officer who was hurt," he said, glancing at the nurse in question. "Do you know…?"

She smiled kindly. "He's still alive, yes. We'll know more soon." Then she put a gentle hand on his arm. "I promise, we'll take good care of both of them."

"Thanks." T.C. gave her a small, grateful smile before heading for the small waiting area just past the nurses' station. He made a quick stop in the single-stall bathroom nearby to scrub his hands, trying to ignore the thoughts of whose blood he was washing down the sink. Hands clean, he splashed cold water on his face, allowing himself a brief minute to breathe before exiting the bathroom and heading to the plastic chairs lined up in neat rows.

He sank into one of the seats and massaged the bridge of his nose. It was no use trying not to think about his friends, and he just hoped nothing was seriously wrong—and he couldn't shake the worry clawing at his chest. The way Thomas's breath had sounded… He knew his friend had sustained rib fractures from what they'd gone through before the hospital, and T.C. was worried the second fight with Cunningham had made them worse. If even one of the breaks had been worsened to the point where it had punctured a lung…

He shook his head and sighed. Thinking that way wouldn't do him any good. T.C. ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath, but any further worrying on his part was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone.

T.C. pulled it from his pocket and glanced at Katsumoto's name on the screen. It made him realize he hadn't even thought to call the detective, and he took another steadying breath before tapping to answer the call. "Hey, I guess you heard?"

"Yeah. I'm on my way to the hospital now," the detective replied. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," T.C. replied slowly. Then, "I shot Cunningham." That was it. Simple, matter-of-fact, to-the-point.

T.C. could almost hear Katsumoto nodding. "I know." There was a pause, then, "Want to tell me about it?"

"I… I was going check on Juliet and Thomas and walked in on him fighting with Cunningham. I'm not sure how Cunningham got in, but he was in scrubs… and he had a knife," T.C. explained. "So I had to stop him," he finished simply.

"And it was good shooting from what I heard," Katsumoto remarked. "How is Magnum?"

The words made T.C. grin slightly despite himself; they all knew the "not friends" routine between Katsumoto and Magnum wasn't actually true. But then his expression grew serious as he answered the other man's question. "I'm not sure. They took him back a few minutes ago; I haven't heard anything yet." He swallowed. "Higgins is okay, though. I'm just waiting for them to get her settled in a new room; the old one's a crime scene now."

"Yeah," Katsumoto replied grimly. "Part of the reason I'm headed there now. Look, I'm just a few minutes out. We'll talk more when I get there, okay?"

"Thanks," T.C. acknowledged. "I'm in the waiting area by the nurses' station on the second floor, near where Higgins' room was. I'll either be there or with Rick or Higgy."

"Got it. I'll come find you."

After the line had disconnected, he sat quietly, staring at the phone in his hands. As much as he was trying not to worry, that was proving impossible. They'd all been through some pretty rough stuff over the years, T.C. reminded himself, and they'd made it out on the other side. Higgy was okay; Cunningham hadn't gotten to her, thanks to Thomas—except now that meant T.C. had to hope his buddy would pull through.

T.C. took a breath and shook his head. Out of all of them, Thomas was the one who seemed to have more lives than a cat. He'd be okay. He had to be.

Rick's room was still dim as T.C. slipped in through the door. The overhead lights were off, the only illumination what came through the door to the bathroom that had been left slightly ajar.

By the dim light that afforded, T.C. could see his friend lying with eyes closed in the bed. The top of the mattress was slightly raised, keeping Rick in a half-sitting position.

The digital displays of the assortment of machines clustered around the head of the bed emitted a faint glow as they tracked the patient's vitals, and T.C. breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw Rick's readouts all seemed to be normal.

"Hey." The quiet greeting told T.C. his friend hadn't been sleeping.

"Hey," T.C. returned, keeping his voice low so as not to worsen Rick's headache. "How're you feeling?"

Rick made a face. "Tired," he said simply.

Nodding, T.C. moved for the chair next to the bed. "Yeah, I bet flirting with the nurses is really hard work."

"You got it all wrong, buddy. They flirt with me." Rick smirked, then winced as he shifted to sit up a little more. "And then I can't disappoint them, so of course I return the gesture."

T.C. chuckled as he reached to help adjust his pillows, watching the other man's face appraisingly. "Are you sure you shouldn't still be sleeping?"

"Nah, can't," Rick informed him. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath, then cracked one eye open again. "Can you hand me that cup?"

T.C. reached for the plastic cup with a straw sticking out of it that was sitting on the rolling table off to his left. Holding it up for Rick to take a long sip, he shifted back once his friend had nodded that he was done with the drink. Setting it down on the table again, T.C. sat back and let out a deep breath of his own. He was still bone-tired, and what he'd just been through wasn't doing anything to help matters. He just needed to grab a few minutes' shut-eye before Katsumoto arrived.

"What happened?"

"What?" T.C. blinked and looked back at Rick.

Rick looked concerned as he studied the other man. "Something happened. What? Is it Jules? Or Tommy?" It was obvious he was assuming the worst, and T.C. swallowed.

"Rick, I don't—"

"How bad is it?" Rick's tone was clipped and tight with emotion. "And don't you dare lie to me just because you think it's in my best interest. I'll decide what's best for me."

T.C. took a breath. He should've known he couldn't hold out on Rick. "They're both alive," he responded, wanting to assure Rick before getting into the actual details. The raised eyebrow that met his statement told him he'd better hurry up and continue. "But, well, Cunningham came back."

"Here?" Rick sat up with a jolt, only to quickly drop back against the pillows with a hand against his head.

One of the machines next to him started beeping indignantly.

"You good?" T.C. asked worriedly, trying to determine how much damage his friend might have just done.

Rick swallowed and took a studious breath, wincing as he exhaled, but didn't respond. T.C. stayed quiet, watching his expression, and relaxed slightly when Rick seemed to recover from whatever flare his quick movement had caused. However, he waited for Rick to continue the conversation, not wanting to make things worse.

"No, but this isn't about me." Rick waved off the question. "You said… Cunningham was here?"

Nodding and still keeping a careful eye on Rick's face, T.C. replied, "Yeah, he tried to come after Higgy when he thought she'd be alone."

The rage on Rick's face would have been discernible from a mile away.

"He didn't hurt her, don't worry," T.C. added quickly, trying to mitigate the emotions that might lead to Rick hurting himself again. "Thomas stopped him."

Rick's sigh of relief was short-lived as he seemed to catch something in T.C.'s tone or face. "And Tommy…?"

When T.C. hesitated, trying to figure out how to phrase the news, Rick fixed T.C. with a firm look. "T.C."

Rick's tone of voice was enough that T.C. couldn't keep it from him any longer. "He's alive," he repeated, although the reality that he didn't honestly know if that was true any more hit him like a truck. "They brought him back for surgery a little while ago," he continued, trying to make the words sound more certain than he was. He couldn't shake the memory of his friend being rushed out of the room, bleeding and fighting for breath. Jaw tense with frustration, he ran a hand over his face.

"How'd Cunningham even get close enough to hurt him?" Rick asked, the quietness of his voice only making him sound more furious.

A knock on the door saved T.C. from having to respond. He wasn't sure he knew what to say anyway; he'd been too tired and too shocked by what he'd walked into, what he'd had to do, to fully process everything in the moment.

Rick gave T.C. a serious look, but T.C. ignored it for the moment in favor of inviting in whoever was waiting outside. He was hoping it would be Katsumoto, and he was rewarded when the detective was the one who stepped through the door.

"Rick, how are you feeling?" Katsumoto asked in greeting, coming over to join the two friends.

But Rick wasn't in the mood to chat. "What happened with Cunningham?" he asked tersely. "How'd he get into the hospital?"

Katsumoto raised an eyebrow as he exchanged a look with T.C. "It appears he was able to slip in undetected; he'd picked up a pair of scrubs elsewhere and stole someone's ID badge when he arrived. It would have looked like he was just another member of the staff to anyone who didn't look too closely. And he didn't hang around anywhere, so there wasn't much time for someone to realize he didn't belong."

"What about Officer Park?" T.C. asked then. "I haven't heard anything. Is he okay?"

Katsumoto nodded slowly. "I just got an update on him. Cunningham used a stun gun to incapacitate him long enough to drag him into the room before anyone noticed anything and then knock him out." The detective's expression was serious. From talking to Merrick earlier, these guys have a screwed up sense of 'honor.'" He made a face. "Cunningham probably wouldn't have wanted to kill anyone he didn't have an argument with."

The other men's frowns deepened at that.

"No," Rick bit out, "but they didn't mind hurting Higgins because of what that would mean to us."

T.C. had been thinking the same thing, but it felt like there was more he was missing… he couldn't put his finger on it. He blamed his headache and fatigue.

Katsumoto nodded slowly. "That's how it looks. From what we can tell, Cunningham got into a computer and saw each of you had your own rooms; he didn't count on Magnum and T.C. not being there."

"Which means he thought we all were by ourselves," T.C. added.

Katsumoto nodded. "When I talked to Merrick…" He trailed off, clearly weighing his next words. "He admitted they'd planned to use Higgins as part of their revenge against you three. If I had to guess, Cunningham decided he'd go after her first since there was no guarantee he'd be able to get to all four of you before being caught."

Rick snorted, and the others could see him clenching his fists by his side. "He thought he could kill her and get away, leaving us to blame ourselves for being so close and not having been able to save her." He didn't add that, if Cunningham had succeeded and gotten away, the rest of them would have been left to try to find him and wonder if he'd show up when they least expected it to do more harm.

"But she wasn't alone," Katsumoto said, fixing both Rick and T.C. with a firm look. "And he didn't get away with anything."

T.C. just nodded, feeling the guilt once again of not having gotten to the room sooner than he had. If he'd made it even a minute earlier, how much pain could he have saved Thomas?

"Hey." Katsumoto's voice drew his attention. "You did good, T.C. If it weren't for you, things would have been a whole lot worse."

"Yeah…" he responded quietly. The more time that passed from that moment in the hospital room, the more the adrenaline was wearing off. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep himself awake, but he couldn't just doze off. They were waiting for news about Thomas. Plus Higgy would wake up any minute and—

"Theodore."

The sound of Rick using his full name brought T.C.'s head up to look at his friend.

It was clear from the looks on Rick and Katsumoto's faces that both men were concerned about him. And probably rightly so, he thought to himself as he shook his head to clear the cobwebs.

"You kind of checked out on us for a minute there," Rick said, the worry evident in his voice even past the pain still filling it.

Katsumoto nodded. "Hey, why don't you go back to your room for a while?" he asked, although it was clear it was more of a suggestion than a question. "Everything's under control now."

As much as T.C. wanted to push himself to stay awake in case there was news on Thomas, everything that had happened was compounding the exhaustion he'd already been feeling, and he wasn't sure he could keep his eyes open for much longer. It was a bone-deep tiredness that seemed to swallow every part of him.

"Go," Rick said. The look he was giving T.C. said he knew what his friend was feeling. "You're no good to any of us if you're dead on your feet," he added.

"Come on," Katsumoto said, tilting his head toward the door. "I need to get back to the station; I'll walk out with you."

T.C. sighed but didn't argue. He knew the others were right, and he just didn't have the energy to resist any longer. "Okay," he agreed, slowly standing before turning for the exit to the hallway. "Don't go anywhere," he added, giving Rick a stern look.

His friend chuckled lightly. "Yeah, right," Rick muttered, waving a hand.

Light from the hallway cut through the dimness of the room just then, and T.C. glanced over to see Katsumoto holding the door open, waiting for him. He slowly headed over to join the detective, and they stepped into the hallway together.

"You sure you're all right?" Katsumoto asked as they started in the direction of T.C.'s room. His tone conveyed more than just the question itself.

T.C. smiled weakly. "I'll be fine. Just need some shut-eye is all."

They were just passing the nurses' station, and Katsumoto's reply was interrupted when a woman in a doctor's coat glanced up and noticed them.

"Mr. Calvin." She waved him over, and T.C. immediately stepped closer to the counter. "I'm Doctor Kerr," she continued with a reassuring smile. "You're here with Mr. Magnum, right?"

T.C. was immediately on high alert. "Yes," he managed as he searched the woman's face for more details. "Is everything okay?" He could feel Katsumoto standing close by but didn't turn to glance at him.

"He's out of surgery," she replied, giving him an encouraging smile, "and should be moving to ICU soon. One of his ribs punctured a lung, which, along with some heavy bruising, was restricting his breathing. We were able to take care of that, though," she added, putting up a hand as if to reassure her audience. "We've left the ventilator in after the surgery but will be monitoring his condition and hope to be able to remove it soon. The knife wound in his side took a little patching up; it was deep, but he was very lucky it didn't hit anything vital. At this point, we've done what we can, and now we just have to wait and let his body do the work of healing."

T.C. swallowed as he processed the information. "Can I see him?" he asked, all thoughts of returning to his own bed gone.

Doctor Kerr smiled sympathetically but shook her head. "I'm sorry, but he needs absolute quiet so he can rest. That's the most important thing for his recovery at the moment. I'll reevaluate his condition in a few hours; once we know he's out of the woods, you can sit with him. But, for now, I'm restricting his room to medical staff only. I'm sorry, but it's the best thing for him right now."

Taking a deep breath, T.C. nodded. "I understand," he replied, although he could hear the reluctance in his voice.

The doctor gave him another encouraging smile. "The next few hours are going to be critical, but, if he pulls through without any complications, he should be on the road to recovery. I'll make sure you're updated if anything changes," Dr. Kerr added in parting before turning to head back down the hallway.

T.C. let out a deep breath as he watched her go. It wasn't what he had wanted to hear, but there wasn't much he could do about it. 

A hand clapped his shoulder from behind, and he turned to see Katsumoto watching him kindly. "Magnum's strong," he told T.C. "He'll pull through. Now come on; let's get you to bed. You don't look like you should be on your feet right now."

Knowing the other man was right and not having the energy to argue, T.C. gave in. He'd only let himself sleep for a few hours, though; he needed to get back to Higgy before she woke up alone. He could catch up on his sleep later, once he knew his friends were all okay.

"Hey."

The voice seemed to drift into her consciousness from somewhere far away, as if she were hearing it through a long tunnel.

"Hey, Higgy, can you hear me?"

Whoever it was sounded worried, and she wondered why. She knew the voice… she couldn't quite remember whose it was or how she knew it, but it sounded familiar. She wanted to open her eyes, to say something to let the man know she had heard him, but that seemed like too much effort. The more she tried to focus on waking up, the heavier her head felt.

She focused instead on taking a steadying breath and realised there were more sounds around her. There was a low beeping from somewhere nearby… she knew that as much as she knew the voice, but, in the same way, she couldn't place it.

And then the voice came again, closer this time. "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me," it encouraged.

It took much more effort than she'd expected, but she painstakingly managed to make her fingers move. Even as she did, she noticed the noises around her were starting to become just a little more clear, and she felt herself take a deep breath as the feeling of someone's hand in hers finally registered.

"Good. There you go, Higgy baby. That's it."

Only one person she knew called her that… But what was going on?

She felt panic starting to flutter in her chest as flashes of memories rushed through her mind. She remembered heading to the bar with Magnum… joking with the others like always… remembered the men barging in through the back of the bar…

Shifting, she felt pain flare up into her head. Her breath caught at the sudden sensation. The beeping nearby that had previously been slow and steady was speeding up now, sounding more urgent, but she barely heard it.

"Hey, hey, shhh." The hand in hers tightened its grip ever so slightly. "It's okay. You're okay. You're in the hospital."

It felt like too much effort to force her eyes to open, and she gave up after a moment. But other things were starting to register, and she could now feel a soft surface beneath her. She swallowed, noticing how dry her mouth felt. "T.C.?" she whispered hoarsely.

Something cold and wet slipped between her lips and began to melt on her tongue, and she relaxed ever so slightly at the relief the small ice chip brought to her

"Yeah, I'm here," he encouraged.

She was torn between wanting to fall back asleep and finding out what had happened. More ice dropped into her mouth, the freezing sensation drawing her more fully into the present. She slowly swallowed the trickle of water as she struggled to crack her eyes open again. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, but she slowly succeeded.

"Hey, there you are." The smile in T.C.'s tone would have been obvious even if she hadn't been able to see his relieved look. She could see lines of exhaustion on his face, but he just patted her hand gently. "It's good to see you awake, Higgy. We were worried about you."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What… how…?" She heard her voice crack on the second word and licked her lips.

T.C.'s hand remained in hers, but she felt him put his other on her forearm. "Don't worry about it," he told her. "We had a little bit of a rough time earlier, but it's okay now. You're safe."

Higgins felt herself relax at the assurance. She wanted to ask more questions, wanted to know where the others were, but she was already exhausted from the energy she'd exerted in the short time she'd been awake. Her eyes were still heavy and getting harder and harder to keep open each time she blinked.

There was a voice at the door then, and she slowly looked over to see a woman in scrubs join T.C. by the bed. Something was telling Higgins she needed to stay awake, that the nurse would have questions, but it was just too much effort.

She vaguely thought she heard her name before her eyes slipped closed yet again.

It was the next day before anyone was allowed in to visit Magnum. Doctor Kerr was concerned about too much excitement all at once and would only allow one visitor for a short time with a break before the next person could go in.

He'd been extremely disoriented and groggy when he'd finally woken up, and it had taken most of the day before he even really knew what was going on around him. T.C. had been in with him first for as long as allowed, followed by Rick and then, late in the day, Higgins when she'd finally been allowed to get up and move around.

Magnum hadn't been able to hold much of a conversation or even stay awake for very long at one time. Everything seemed to be somewhat muted for him because of the painkillers, and it wasn't until the evening that his chest tube was removed. And then the nurses had cleared everyone out for the night, insisting that uninterrupted rest was the best thing for the patient at the moment—something the rest of the group could use as well.

There was no use arguing; the staff had been firm about it, and there had been no choice but to retreat—although none of the three friends had really had the energy to argue for long anyway. Just walking the halls was enough to wear out Higgins and Rick, and T.C. wasn't much better.

Katsumoto checked in on them several times throughout the day, and Kumu had begun texting almost nonstop once she'd learned what had happened.

But the only thing they could all do was wait, the unfortunate result of the very human element of the healing process. Medicine could only do so much; it was up to them to get the rest they needed to recover.

"So basically I missed all the action because I had to get another x-ray," Rick remarked with an exaggeratedly annoyed expression.

They were gathered around Thomas's hospital bed a full two days later, finally able to all sit together and recount the details of what had happened now that Thomas could stay awake for longer than a few minutes at a time. He only knew pieces of everything, and his friends were filling him in, complete with good-natured ribbing.

Jules leaned over and gently patted Rick's arm. "Don't be so hard on yourself. I was in the same room, and I still missed it."

"But you were sleeping," Rick objected, his expression a mix of trying not to look convinced by the reassurance and the smile he almost couldn't hide.

"Orville"—T.C. raised an eyebrow—"you have a broken rib that nearly punctured a lung before you even got here, not to mention that laundry list of other injuries. What do you think would've happened if you'd tried to take on Cunningham again? I mean, look at Thomas."

"Hey!" The offended protest from the patient in the bed made them all grin.

T.C. was only partially successful at smothering his smirk. "And you did puncture a lung," he said, his voice growing a little more serious. "You know how close we came to losing you, bro? What if I'd been just one minute later getting to the room?" He grinned, although not quite as much as before, and something serious in his eyes told the others just how worried he'd been—and still was.

"But you weren't," Thomas replied quietly. He smiled, although it was obvious to the others how much the motion pained him. His face was swollen and bruised, and there was a clear tube snaking under his nose, providing him with a steady flow of oxygen.

The brief pause that followed Thomas's words was broken by the chime of a phone. When Jules shifted to pull the device out of her pocket, Rick immediately noticed her wince and how she was still moving a little more slowly than normal, but he didn't say anything. None of them were currently at their best, and that was putting it lightly.

"It's Robin," she told the others, briefly glancing up with a smile before looking back to her phone to tap out a reply. "He wants to see how we're all doing."

"You guys will back me up when I tell Robin about everything that happened, right?" Thomas asked, a mischievous smirk playing on his face. "Imagine what an action sequence it could make for the next White Knight novel."

T.C. laughed. "Maybe I'll finally get to save the day for once. You know, since I saved your life?"

"Nah," Rick grinned. "Not with all the times we saved him from certain death only for the fictionalized story to change."

Thomas managed to look offended at that. "Now hold on! 'All the times'? 'Certain death'? That's stretching the truth a little, don't you think?"

"Oh, I don't know, Magnum," Higgins jumped in. "I seem to recall saving your life many times myself. With your track record, I would have no trouble believing you got yourself into even more dangerous situations whilst in the service."

"Higgy speaks the truth." T.C. winked at her before turning back to look seriously at Thomas. "Admit it, T.M. There wouldn't even be a White Knight to write about without us."

As the banter continued, Rick sat back and smiled to himself. T.C. was right, but not just about the White Knight.

None of the four of them would be there without the others, not on any normal day—trouble seemed to find Thomas like he was actually the fictional protagonist Robin had based off of him, and he regularly dragged the others into his misadventures—and not on extraordinary days like the past couple had been.

None of them had to face any of it alone, though. They had always been there for each other, and they would continue to be. There would be weeks, perhaps months, of recovery, both physical and mental; he knew that from unfortunate experience, but he also knew from experience that none of them would have to go through it alone.

They'd made it through the past few days together, and that was how they would make it through the days to come. Together.