AN: A ficlet based on a screen cap of Danny walking into a guarded hospital room, worry etched on his face. This was a response to a writer's challenge. We hope you will all have as much enjoyment reading this as we had much fun co-writing it. Reviews are appreciated, thank you :-)

Standing Guard

By "Honu59" and "Tanith2011"

"And put a guard on Steve's door."

It was an ordinary enough order. The head of the state police was hospitalized under suspicious circumstances. Posting a guard made sense at the time. But now Danny knew the irony of that order. He knew what his boss, his best friend, needed was a microscopic guard on his very cells that were under attack by the strange bacteria developed by corrupt scientists under the direction of Wo Fat. There was nothing Danny could have done to prevent this. He knew that in his head, but in his heart he felt the guilt of not fulfilling his primary duty to protect McGarrett.

Danny entered the hospital room and was shocked by the sight before him. He willed away the tears that threatened to flood his eyes, but could do nothing about the large lump that had suddenly materialized in his throat. Steve lay beneath an oxygen tent, semi-conscious. His unshaven face and bare chest glistened with beads of sweat from the high fever that gripped his body as his immune system attempted to battle the invisible invaders. The room was quiet except for the mechanical sounds of the medical equipment and the patient's ragged breathing.

"Steve…"

The name escaped Danny's lips, barely above a whisper, before he could even think, purely a reflex. He pulled a chair over to the bedside, sat down and gripped his friend's hand, which was uncharacteristically limp. The young detective's mind raced with various frightening scenarios of the immediate future as he watched his mentor fighting for his life.

From the moment Steve had recruited Danny into Five-O, the young man felt as though he had been adopted into a family. Sure, there were times when Steve's stubbornness would shut him down but in his heart, he knew that Steve believed in him. Or did he? The question echoed relentlessly in his mind.

Now I have failed you.

The image of a bleeding teenage boy, crawling on his belly across the floor in a modest apartment, still haunted him. It better tear your guts out every time you pull that gun! Steve's voice, which had sounded like a reprimand to Danny at the time, rang in his mind. Harsh as the words sounded, he could hear the hurt in Steve's voice as they left his lips. He did it because he cared. He cared so much it tore him up to see me go through that ordeal. He didn't want me to get used to killing, to pulling the trigger - because he cared for my humanity.

Danny squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard. He winced as he realized his grip on Steve's hand had tightened so much that it hurt. Loosening his grip, Danny opened his eyes and looked into Steve's unfocused stare, willing him to respond to his presence. You never doubted me. Danny thought back to the days he spent in a holding cell at HPD, facing serious criminal charges. You never gave up on me. But no matter how hard he tried to push away the seeds of guilt that coursed through his veins, he couldn't forgive himself for allowing Wo Fat to fulfill his evil plan.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I let you down." The words escaped through lips that felt numb and unresponsive. He remembered the day Steve told him he was a free man, the day he returned his badge and gun. Danny saw his mentor smile that day and he knew everything would be all right. Now all Danny could see were Steve's parched lips straining to form words as he finally looked into the younger man's bright blue gaze.

"Dan-Danno," a weak whisper broke through Danny's recollections of the past. The ghosts vanished as the voice brought the young detective back to the present.

"Steve, can you hear me?" Danny leaned in closer and squeezed Steve's hand gently. He felt tired fingers twitch beneath his touch. Bright as the ocean's hue, Danny's eyes glistened as waves of guilt continued to ripple through him.

"Not your fault, Danno. Not your fault."

"I let him get to you," Danny countered. I should've protected you like you protected me.

"No, no you didn't. It was my fault. I should've listened when you told me that Tong was a plant," Steve's voice grew stronger with each word.

Danny feared that Steve's effort to put things right between them meant that the man was losing the fight and his life was slipping away. The young detective felt a renewed sense of urgency. How could he possibly tell this man, in the short time that remained, all that his friendship had meant to him? Theirs was a bond stronger than that of blood brothers, one that was beyond mere words. But he had to try. Danny swallowed and began in a low and serious voice, the sadness never leaving his eyes.

"Steve, I want you to know that…"

Before he could continue, Doc Bergman entered the room at a quick pace, carrying a tray bearing several vials and syringes. Startled, Danny glanced up at the physician. Instead of the tense, worried expression he had seen on the doctor's face the past several days, Bergman's face was relaxed, almost relieved. Without so much as a greeting, the doctor quickly loaded a syringe, injected its contents into McGarrett's IV line and returned the empty syringe to the tray. Then he repeated the procedure with a second syringe.

"Doc?" asked Danny, desperately hoping that the impossible had indeed come to pass.

"Yes, Danny, Che managed to isolate and identify the organism. Together we were able to develop a serum that should destroy it without any ill effects to Steve," Doc explained. "It should take effect in a few minutes."

Together, the two men stood in a silent vigil by the bedside. Gradually they noticed the big detective relax, his breathing becoming even and less labored. The improvement in his vital signs was nothing short of miraculous to the two men scrutinizing the patient.

When he was certain that his patient was out of danger, Doc turned to face the younger man, gently gripped his shoulder and broke into a rare smile. "You look like hell, Danny. I don't suppose I can talk you into getting some rest yourself…"

There was no mistaking Danny's answer from the look on his face.

"No, I thought not," grumbled Bergman as he picked up the tray and turned to leave the room. "I swear - the two of you are cut from the same cloth!" the doctor declared in an exasperated tone.

Alone again with the patient, Danny sank back into the bedside chair, tears of joy and relief now spilling unashamedly from the very depths of his blue eyes. He wondered if Bergman had any clue of the enormous compliment he had just bestowed on him or of the unbearable weight that had just been lifted off his young shoulders. A feeling of immense gratitude cascaded through him while he watched his boss's chest rise and fall in a regular and steady rhythm.

With his hand resting on Steve's arm, Danny's tense muscles relaxed, and he drifted into a soundless sleep, finally free from the guilt that had plagued his mind and spirit.

Pau