This is my first H50 fic. The friendship between Steve and Danny is so compelling to watch. I've loved watching it develop. But it's still so vulnerable that, after watching the pilot, I had to write this piece, as seen through Steve's eyes, as he starts to realize what he's taken on.

Sanctuary

There have been so many times when I've yelled at him to be quiet.

I hate it when he is.

Because that's when I realize how much I've gained in making him my partner. How much I stand to lose.

I see it then. Rare times, uncharacteristic times when, if briefly, I manage to breach his defences. Times when he's my silent passenger, lost in thought as he stares out of his window. I may not be able to see his eyes, but I can feel the sadness, the loneliness, within them.

He's so unhappy here, so much the outsider – too damn stubborn to accept my attempts to help him.

But however much I tease him, however hard I try to persuade him to embrace his new life here – no, when he's so far away from me that I can't see his eyes, I know I have to keep quiet.

I know I have to give him that moment, as many as he needs, to remind himself why he's here – because I know I'm still the tiniest, most tenuous factor in the equation that compels him to stay.

The sacrifice that he's made defines his courage – and torments that humanity in equal measure.

He hides its pain so well, behind a dam of ranting wisecracks and humbling selflessness. But sometimes, just sometimes, the dam cracks. He needs this time to repair it. When the weight of his sacrifice overwhelms him, he comes back here, so he can silently heal.

Behind the closed door of his office, he'll sit, alone and undisturbed, and let his mind take him away. Away from everything, all the reasons, why he hates it here. Away from the pain that he could escape so easily, but never will.

I hate myself too, for being one of those reasons. That first time he hit me, I knew he meant it. Beyond my own, I felt his pain. Every part of the sacrifice that he's made to come here. I saw it in the eyes that still met mine afterwards – defiant humanity that refused to back down.

I knew, then, that I'd made the right decision. I've found the best partner I'll ever have. I'll die if I need to, if it means saving his life. I know he'll do the same for me.

That's what partners do.

And he is my partner. I hope, in time, that I'll gain the full privilege of his friendship.

I know it won't be easy.

I know it will be a challenge.

There'll be times when we hurt each other. Say things we don't mean. Do things we both regret. Times that I'll hate myself for, when I overstep the mark, and I'll see fury and frustration blight his eyes.

But if it means gaining his trust, his friendship, I know it will be worth the time to secure them both. The best friendships are those that you fight for. Whatever it takes, I'm determined to win his.

So when I see him as I do now, safe in this precious sanctuary, I know to leave him there – watching the ritual that I know so well already, and which I won't violate until I know it's complete.

He starts, always, with the hardest part. The photographs on his wall. The baseball on his desk. Reminders of home.

He'll sigh. Shoulders that bear the weight of his world will sag. Then he'll unclip his badge and study it, and I'll see the first stage of his healing.

He'll start to smile.

And when he picks up that final photograph, and I see the pride in his eyes, I know he's found it again. All the strength that he needs, all the reason he needs to stay here to protect her, lies in that picture.

His face comes alive again, and I know it's safe to enter his world now, and pull him back into mine.

I know it's still a world that hurts him. I know it's a world where he still just cannot, will not, belong. He'll resist it. Rail against it. He'll rant and rave about it, as only he can. He'll always be haole.

But when my hand settles on his shoulder, he lets it stay there. He looks up at me, and smiles back. Nods acknowledgement of my presence. Accepts the support that I'm offering him. And I know my irreplaceable partner is becoming my equally irreplaceable friend.