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

Notes: just a rather lonely and very late bromantic one shot that came out of the blue and based on the 100th episode. I didn't rewatch the episode - hopefully my faulty memory wasn't too faulty. Unbeta'd soppy mess of a thing ...

H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O

There was no reason for him to open his eyes and making that decision wasn't even really a decision at all. Opening his eyes would have taken him a monumental effort. Plus, with the cocktail of drugs still in his system, he'd see any number of weird or inexplicable things through a dizzying, unfocused haze. And that singular fact made the attempt not even worth it.

On one level he knew that his reality had been terribly skewed. Danny had gently coached him through that over the last few hours time and again. Still, it was hard. Because on another plane, he definitely believed some of it. In fact, he wanted to at least believe a little bit of it. Especially the part about his father and he found himself desperate to find the pleasant bits of what he'd once thought had been so real. But the misfiring synapses inside his brain refused to cooperate and instead, he mourned his loss yet again.

His current reality was an unfair mix of right and wrong; of truth and lies. He ached mentally and if possible, even worse physically. He was nauseous, in an incredible amount of pain and all of that, too, was reason enough not to open his eyes, let alone twitch a muscle. Quite literally, from the top of his head and down to his still bare feet, he hurt like a sonofabitch and there was no relief in sight.

No relief because of the weird mix of drugs which had been mercilessly pumped into his bloodstream, leaving none of his vitals remotely on a par with normal. At least, his physicians couldn't give him anything yet; not until almost hourly blood tests told them whatever it was they needed to know. So at that very moment, the only line running into his arm was for fluids in an ongoing battle to flush his system free of so many terrible toxins. His doctors didn't dare prescribe pain medication of any sort for fear of worsening adverse reactions and so they left him to his bone-deep druthers and painful mental wanderings. Inside his silent hell, he argued all of his memories and those lies foisted upon him while struggling through the pain caused by a severe concussion, a gunshot wound to his shoulder, several contusions and three cracked ribs. Each shallow breath was a struggle despite the oxygen mask strapped to his face and the purported comfort of the bed he now lay upon.

In the end, he simply couldn't do it.

Steve kept his eyes closed despite the ball of panic dwelling inside his chest. He was safe and yet he wasn't. The ball was bigger than his fist and it sat there - right next to his heart - and refused to budge. If anything, it was getting hotter, bigger and heavier with each passing minute and his breathing noticeably hitched. The discomfort that caused worsened his real physical woes and Steve lost his battle to remain calm.

"You're okay, babe," Danny's voice was his balm as his fingers clenched the thin fabric of the bedsheets at the same time his face crumpled in pain. Eyes welded shut, Steve sucked in a careful breath of oxygen and lost a reactive tear to the flare of agony spiking through his chest.

"Shit!" Danny cursed over his head, a rapid-fire rush of reassurances following closely and virtually in Steve's ear. "You're okay ... it's okay. Try to relax, I'll be right back." There was a parting of air and then Danny was gone, yet his voice easily still reached Steve's ears from where he now stood in the doorway to his hospital room.

"What the hell are you all waiting for? What were the results of his blood tests?"

Steve heard his partner gripe, the annoyance in his tone oddly soothing, but not enough to ease his rising panic. Not nearly enough to make him even want to smile as his hands began to tremble.

"This is bullshit already ... he's been here for four hours and you can't figure this out?! He's in pain!"

Steve lay there, breathing in pained spurts, eyes still closed and his head throbbing in time to the uneven cadence of his heartbeat. The ball inside his chest had grown to the size of an anvil now as more panic unfurled inside his mind to become a physical thing which he couldn't control. He was losing the fight again and getting mired in a contrived reality as after-images flashed rapidly behind his closed lids where they scattered like dust.

His father. Mary. On a beach when they were just kids ... his mother filming them because who else could it have been? Then Danny ... yet, not Danny. Not his Danny in a crazy, shit-loud Hawaiian shirt that he'd never wear in a million years. Not his Danny .. and not his Danny shooting ... Hesse. Point blank range to get a confession. Stifling a cry of pain by using a pillow? Had it really been Hesse in a hospital bed? Worse yet though ... had Danny done that ... twice?

"D'nny?" Steve hoarsely rasped under the oxygen mask. Under his fingers, the bedsheet was now a wadded mess of damp material as another vision revisited: Danny happily married. Happily entrenched and at home in Hawaii because he wanted to be here. Inconceivably breaking rules. But that was without mention of a task force. Without Five-0 ... without their friendship.

Steve's breath painfully hitched again while his face creased in pain from the pull on his ribs. They ... he ... had no team. Nothing. No one. His breath shuddered through partly opened lips as he got stuck in an endless tailspin. Again. Knowing he was hopelessly stuck and praying for it all to stop while his head tossed in refusal at the voice stuck inside his mind.

Brothers.

Wo Fat had insisted they were brothers. A fallacy in any universe. But Danny ... the one constant through it all. Because even in that altered state of being, Danny had been by his side every step of the way. At least taking every step that mattered ... even when he'd killed Wo Fat for the first time on the docks. Only Danny had been there to back him up.

Steve practically choked at the retinal images flying through his minds-eye, wondering what they meant or maybe they meant nothing at all.

"D...D'nny?" Steve called out, his voice breaking but managing to be louder behind the oxygen mask. "Danno!" He projected his voice upwards, wincing in pain and panting in fear while his stomach clenched in warning. The feeling of nausea increased in spades and Steve moaned deep and low. A machine dinged nearby and then another. When no one answered him, Steve fought to open his eyes and won, wincing at the overhead lights even though they'd been intentionally dimmed. He stared at the sterile setting and panic blossomed bigger than before.

It was too much like the all-white room he'd first woken in and he literally felt his heart stutter-stop inside his chest, strong enough for yet another alarm to go off near his head.

"Danno?!" Steve pushed out through clenched teeth, his eyes tearing as he fought to focus on the murky shadows now swiftly coming to his bedside. None seemed familiar and he helplessly allowed the panic to take over. He was panting through a soul-aching whine, his breath keeping the oxygen mask permanently fogged, his heart racing when adrenalin spiked too high. He groaned when nausea devolved into a stomach-churning need to really vomit and he swallowed vainly against a flux of bile. The sour sting settled deeply in the back of his throat forcing him to cough which only managed to badly ping his injured ribs and he groaned again, sweat now beading his forehead.

The cycle was unfair and vicious, and Steve lost whatever little energy he'd garnered quickly as his voice waned to nearly nothing. Limp and exhausted, he closed his eyes again, a frantic whisper of his friend's name the only sound he could make. "Danny ... D'nno?"

"Here! I'm here," Danny called out as he bypassed a nurse to scoop Steve's fingers out of the twisted bedding. "Easy ... easy, Steve. You're okay, babe. I'm right here. Not going anywhere ... I just had to ask the doctors a few questions. Can you calm down for me? Please? You've got every damned bell and alarm going off in here."

Steve forced his eyes back open. He squinted to bring Danny into focus, his eyes resorting to a wild blinking as he cataloged the rumpled light blue dress shirt first. Ordinary. Boring. It screamed out of place mainlander. After that, came the hours worth of exhaustion and the deep lines around his partner's eyes. Then plainly etched in his expression was an undeniable fear ... a fear entirely for Steve's own well-being.

His Danny. His reality ... without his father ... and yet this time, Steve felt a certainty of spirit which left him absolutely and utterly relieved.

"I'm here. You're okay," Danny whispered because he knew where Steve had gone again inside his head. The terror would fade and things would be okay. Eventually. So, his voice was steady and calm; precisely all that Steve needed to hear. But then his head turned away as he berated the closest of the medical staff and Steve weakly squeezed his hand to stem an anger that had to be aimed somewhere ... at anyone.

"What the hell just happened? Oh I know ... he's in pain!" Danny ground out sarcastically from over his head, both his hands virtually welded to Steve's own. Helping him to hang on for dear life as if willing him to understand that this was his best, safe reality and that Danny was going to do his damnedest to keep it that way. "When the hell are you all going to get your damned acts together and do something to make him feel better? He's in pain ... he's hurting ... he's ..."

"M'fine. Danny," Steve breathed out softly, interrupting the emotional tirade. He forced down a sob which cracked his already weakened voice while he tightened his grip on Danny's hand, his knuckles white with effort. "I'm ... fine. I just ... I thought you ... I only thought ...you'd left ... I thought ..."

But Danny was shaking his head, his attention now entirely back on Steve while his trembling fingers remained enveloped within his own. Danny's mouth flapped open soundlessly, a look of disbelief morphing into a flicker of humor, yet he didn't argue Steve's ludicrous statement. In fact, he passed no judgment at all.

Instead his eyes wound up narrowing in consideration and he said nothing. Danny didn't need an explanation or a reason for Steve to elaborate. He knew enough about Steve first believing that his father had still been alive. He knew plenty about the drugs he'd been subjected to and how they were still messing with his mind and toying with his fragile state of emotions.

Danny was astute enough to fill in the gaps, guess everything else which remained unsaid, and Steve felt the stifling weight of the ball begin to unravel as his best friend wilted to sit onto the edge of the bed.

"I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere," Danny promised quietly.

~ not really the END ~ ... because of the unexpected second chapter and a few others