Catherine's phone call was a punch to the gut. It left him feeling weak and it's all he can do to sit there, tears falling onto his shirt, and breathe. The disconnected feeling is back again. He tries to breathe through it, which isn't easy because his head is starting to pound in his skull. Very carefully, he looks down at his watch and frowns as he waits for it to swim into focus. When it does, he's grateful that it's safely time to take another dose of pain killers.

Steve slowly stands assessing his balance. He feels good to go. Bending over to get his scripts from his bag, he almost does a header into the wall. His higher brain functions kick in, this is more than the tiredness he had originally ascribed it to. Head to the wall to prevent any elevation change, he fumbles for his phone. Intending to call 911, he can't focus well enough so he hits his speed dial instead.

Danny sighed as he kicked his feet up on the coffee table, ignoring the inner voice (which sounds like his mother's) saying feet don't belong on furniture. It had been a long flight, rather an eternally long few days and all he wanted to do was sleep for 48 hours straight. Something was preventing him from relaxing; his body was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Steve's ringtone broke the silence.

"Shouldn't you be indulging in a nice pharmaceutical induced nap right about now?"

"Danny," said so quietly that it was almost missed by the intended recipient.

"Steve! Talk to me!" Danny demanded when silence followed his name.

"Danny, something's wrong," Steve forced out through a wave of nausea.

"I'm calling 911," Danny declared.

"No, just…"

"Fine. I'm coming over to assess the situation and when I arrived, if I don't like what I find, I am calling for an ambulance, Steven."

"Danny," he repeated the only word he could get out.

"Steve, understand!"

"Yeah. Hurry."

"I'm already out the door. Keep talkin' to me, all right?" All he could hear was his partner's deep breaths. "Steve, I'm gonna require some words."

"Yeah," Steve grunted.

"I'll take it." Danny hit the lights, siren and gas pedal.

Screeching to a stop on the far side of the drive, mindful of the possibility of an ambulance, Danny jumped out of the car and ran for the door. Steve had managed to open the door but he hadn't changed his position for fear of falling over.

Danny cautiously pushed the door all the way open. He took one good look at his friend and knew the other shoe had dropped and it was a size eleven Timberland. He didn't even consult Steve as he pulled his phone out. "This is Detective Williams. I need an ambulance at 2727 Pi'ikoi Street. I've got a thirty-six year old male suffering from extreme vertigo and nausea." He stayed on the line to hear the ETA. "Okay, babe, what do you need me to do?"

"Ground me," Steve managed.

Danny put one hand flat on Steve's back and the other on his bicep. "This good?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"You've been acting off since you came to, I just couldn't put my finger on it. When you stumbled on the porch, I attributed it to exhaustion. Obviously, that's not the case."

"Yeah," Steve grunted again as he fought another wave of nausea. "I feel like I'm seasick."

"Hear that? Medical professionals are almost here," Danny said, trying not to let on how concerned he is.

"Ya gotta speak up, Danny, my ears are plugged."

"EMT's are here," he enunciated.

"Good," he groaned.

The paramedics took control of the situation as soon as they entered the house. Danny stepped away, not wanting to impede. He watched as they methodically maneuvered Steve onto a gurney, stopping only once to allow his friend to void his stomach.

"You riding with?" one EMT asked.

One glance at his partners expression had Danny climbing in the ambulance after him. "Slow and steady," the same EMT told the driver, "we don't want to escalate his condition." Despite the extra care, Steve was gray as a ghost and on oxygen by the time they pulled into the emergency bay.

Danny was allowed to stay with him through most of the exam, for which Steve was extremely glad. He'd grabbed the man's hand at some point and was afraid to let go for fear he'd float away. Danny stayed and committed everything to memory, positive Steve wasn't tracking fully. After every test imaginable, the two men were finally alone, waiting for the results.

Steve lay on the half inclined bed, staring straight up because most eye movement caused his symptoms to flair up. "What the hell?" he questioned the ceiling.

Danny actually jumped at Steve's voice, he'd been so deep in thought. He jerked his head up to look at his friend. "Steve, did you take in anything the docs were saying?"

"Yeah," Steve moaned, "they are saying head trauma."

"No," Danny corrected, "they are saying inner ear trauma."

"Oh," Steve replied.

"How ya doin'?"

"Better as long as I don't move my head or eyes."

"We'll take what we can get," Danny said.

"Sure," Steve snarked. "You call the rest of the team?"

"I called Chin when they took you for the MRI. He said he'd pass it on," Danny replied.

"That's good."

"You want me to call Mary?"

Without thinking, Steve moved his head to try to get a better view of his partner. Big. Mistake. His vision blurred, the room moved like a surfboard on the waves and his stomach sent warning signals to his esophagus on impending action. Danny immediately put his hand on Steve's shoulder and chest, picking up his breathing mantra. When the world finally settled down, Danny joked, "So that would be a no then."

"I'd rather wait until we know what's really going on," Steve replied slowly.

"Fair enough."

Steve practiced inhaling through his nose, exhaling through his mouth and Danny laboriously answered his emails from his phone while they waited for someone to return to give them an update. When the doctor did return, Steve didn't repeat the head movement mistake, forcing the man to come around to the other side of the bed. His name tag identified him as Capt. Douglas Samuels M.D. Danny didn't recognize him from the barrage of previous medical professionals so he moved closer to Steve, putting himself between the man in the bed and the newcomer. The action garnered a knowing smile from the doctor.

"Commander, I'm Doctor Samuels. I'm the chief neurologist here at Tripler. Dr. Cho asked me to consult on your case."

"Forgive me if I don't shake your hand," Steve said in acknowledgement.

"That's perfectly understandable. Are you okay with your friend staying?"

"Yeah, I'd prefer it," Steve replied.

"Okay, then. After reviewing all the tests, assessing your symptoms and reading your recent medical history, I'm convinced you have vestibular trauma as a result of a severe head injury." The matching confused faces he received prompted him to continue, "Your peripheral vestibular system is what gives you your balance. According to your chart, you recently received some concussive blows to your head. These hits most likely cause the vestibular trauma."

Danny's brows furrowed. "If those hits caused inner ear damage, why is he just manifesting symptoms now? I mean it's been over a week."

"Vestibular trauma is not always readily apparent. Sometimes it can take weeks, months, even years to manifest. The good news is there are effective treatments."

"So I can overcome this then? Lead a normal life?" Steve asked.

"If you stick to the physical therapy routine, make an allowance for a couple of changes, then there is no reason you won't be able to," Dr. Samuels replied.

"What aren't you telling us, doc?" Danny prodded.

"Even with the treatment, there is a likelihood of long term side effects from triggers; sudden changes in altitude, major changes in air pressure. They could cause a vertigo attack."

"You said could. Does that mean not every time?" Danny questioned.

"Essentially, yes. There is no way to tell unfortunately," Samuels answered.

Steve, who'd remained quiet up to this point, whispered, "My military career is over."

"That's not necessarily true. It all depends on how you respond to treatment but I won't sugarcoat it. There is a chance that you'll have residual side effects that will lead to a medical discharge," Samuels informed them.

"So where do we go from here?" Steve asked, putting on his stoic face.

Samuels cleared his throat. "We're going to admit you and tomorrow you'll meet with the physical therapist to start the process for your P.T. Do you have any questions?"

"Nah, I'm good," Steve stated, closing his eyes.

"Someone will be to get you as soon as a room is ready."

Danny thanked the doctor and turned back to his friend. Before he could say anything, Steve spoke. "Why don't you head home, Danny? You have got to be as tired as I am."

Danny contemplated the man in the bed who was looking at him with one eye. "That may be true but I'm gonna stay until you're settled in a room."

"Danny, that's not necessary. I'm a grown man. I think I can handle this," Steve protested.

"Yes, I'm sure you can but maybe, just maybe I, as your friend and partner can't. Maybe I need to stay, make sure you're okay because that's what friends do. They travel to hostile countries to rescue their friend's ass and they stay to make sure that friend gets settled properly in a hospital room. They have their friend's back. That's what friends do."

As Danny wound down, Steve grinned. "Did you get it all out? Oh, and thanks for keeping the arm movements to a minimum."

Danny glared at Steve for a moment, then he let out the breath and tension he'd been holding in, sagging a little. "Yeah, I'm good."

It wasn't long before Steve was being pushed down the hall to the elevators and a room. The doors closed on the car and it began its ascent. Steve turned gray and reached for Danny's hand. "So sorry, Commander, we're almost there," the orderly apologized.

The car lurched to a stop and the orderly pushed on the open door button. People were waiting to enter the elevator. "Sorry, folks, you need to give us a minute." Turning to her patient she said, "You let me know when you're ready to move."

Steve eventually muttered, "Kay."

Danny made sure they moved slowly down the hall till they reached Steve's room. Knowing he wouldn't be let in until Steve was settled, he watched as the nurses took two carts in before Steve and closing the door. Danny moved to the end of the hallway so he wouldn't disturb anyone as he called Chin.

Chin answered on the first ring. "Hey, Danny, what's the word?"

"They're keeping him."

"For how long?" Chin asked, voice laced heavily with concern.

"Depends on how well he responds to treatment." Danny went on to tell his teammate the rest of the information. Chin agreed to pass it on and hold down the fort tomorrow at HQ. They both agreed Danny would stay with the boss for the day. They talked until the nurses exited Steve's room and gave Danny the sign that it was okay for him to go in.

Danny wrapped lightly on the door frame. He took Steve's grunt as an okay to enter. As he surveyed his friend with intent, his eyes caught the bag hooked to the frame at the foot of the bed and traced the line snaking its way under the covers. "You, um, you seem to be hooked up to a few more, um, bits of equipment that when I last saw you."

The tips of Steve's ears turned red and he winced as he shifted to get comfortable. "I'm not supposed to get up without assistance. They're short staffed tonight," he grumbled.

"And that's how they chose to deal with it? Man, I'm sorry," Danny exclaimed.

Steve made an unintelligible noise in response.

"Is there anything I can get or do for you before I head out?" Danny asked quietly.

"Nah, I'm good," Steve replied.

Danny studied his friend for a moment. "If you're sure. I'll be back in the morning."

"You don't have to do that, Danny. I'm okay."

"You, babe, are far from okay but you'll get there and I may not have to, but I want to. I'll see you in the morning."

"Thanks, Danny," Steve said to the man's retreating back. Danny made a dismissive gesture over his shoulder.