This popped into my head, fully formed when I was attempting to write a much longer H50 fic that I will hopefully eventually finish. So I wrote it down, so that I could get back to concentrating on what I was meant to be doing!
The Mask Slips
All he can see is Steve's eyes.
He knows the others are there, Chin, Kono and Jenna, but he can't focus on them, they're outside of his immediate field of vision.
So all he can see is Steve.
He sees the look of sheer panic that crosses the other man's face and, for one pathetic moment, he can't help but be grateful that there's at least one adult on this paradise-masquerading, godforsaken hell-hole of an island that would give a fuck if he met an ignominious end at the hands of whatever the hell it was that killed the dumb schmuck inside the condo.
He's babbling a bit, as much as he can with the limited amount of air that's reaching lungs that are beginning to burn under the strain.
But Steve still looks scared.
That terrifies him. In fact, it terrifies him more than whatever it is that's stolen his breath and turned his chest to lead. Because this is Steve McGarrett. A certified lunatic who laughs in the face of hand grenades and probably wrestles lions before breakfast. He doesn't do scared and if he does, he damn well hides it behind that tough-as-old-boots SEAL exterior he's got going on.
But there's no mask now; just fear for a friend.
And Danny knows that he is going to die here, propped against a gatepost on an island he loathes, rather than in his bed, aged a hundred and four, surrounded by doting family.
But the barest of silver linings is there. At least he's not alone. He has friends here. 'Ohana.
Darkness begins to encroach on his vision and his muscles begin to seize.
And for a moment, before he's lost to the void, he feels a momentary pang of regret that this crazy friendship they've got going on is going to be brought prematurely to a close.
Then all is black.