Something wasn't right. He'd known it from the first second he had heard her voice and suddenly she was there in front of him. In those first wild racing heartbeats his brain had screamed that it wasn't possible… she couldn't be here… NOT POSSIBLE…

But she was there… hesitant and beautiful and walking towards him and Dear God she was HERE… wrapped in his arms… solid and warm and real… hugging him back… smelling like the desert and the ocean and his heart was singing with a joy too loud for all reasons why it couldn't be.

He wanted to drink in the sight of her… never let go of her… never let her out of his sight again. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to, in a moment, get lost in her endless brown eyes, her every feature, all of it exactly as he remembered.

And that should have been the most obvious clue of all. It was all right in front of him… he almost had a finger on why…

But suddenly there was danger and a job to do and she was back with him doing this together and that niggling sense of "not right" got pushed aside in their mad dash to stop everything from being destroyed.

And before the adrenaline even had time to fade they had a wedding to finish and "not right" got pushed even further away to make room for "what if…"

All the what-ifs he had shushed for the pain their whispers caused were suddenly loud and full of the clamor of potential and promise again. And he could no longer hear the reasons why none of this was possible.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The ocean spread beneath them like an artist's canvas, breathtaking sharp colors that somehow seemed more vibrant than he'd ever seen them. He glanced over, finding her also studying the expanse of blues and greens steadily rushing up to meet them. It was good that they were on a mission together again… falling into sync like the time apart was nothing. Falling towards the ocean side by side. She caught his eye with a twinkle in her own and he felt a smile pull along with the canvas harness tightening as they both tugged the release, dropping free of their parachutes and into the ocean feet first, barely causing a disturbance in the surface of the water.

Fabric pooled on top of the water as they sank beneath the crystal surface.

Her hand found his and squeezed, "This isn't what trust looks like, Steve."

Something in his heart seized, he'd thought they were past all this. Blue eyes sought out brown to try and convey the sincerity when he promised, "I trust you."

She flashed that half-smile that made him forget to breathe, "I love you too…"

Then her fingers slipped through his and the water went dark.

Another voice drifted faintly through the darkness...

"Did I tell you that Grace is currently not speaking to me? Not since she found out about Charlie. I'm not sure if she's more upset that Rachel and I had an affair or that we ended it. Which…"

He blinked...colors slowly fading back in from inky black. Not the bright cerulean blues and sharp turquoise...just muted creams and subdued beige. The complete lack of vibrancy surrounding him was more startling than suddenly not being in the middle of the ocean.

"Steve? Hey, you back with me?"

He rolled his head towards the voice, catching a swath of color again in the blue eyes he found watching him. Haggard blue eyes beneath disheveled blonde hair. "Where-" Words caught… feeling like they were forced around sandpaper and razorblades.

"Shh… take it easy, okay? You're in the hospital."

Things were fluctuating between clarity and something blurry… and mushy. He closed his eyes when the room shifted in a way he was sure it wasn't meant to. "Danny?"

"Yeah. Right here." The voice remained soft… tired. There was a gentle pressure on his hand...which was strange since he felt disconnected from the rest of his body.

"But...I thought that...Catherine?"

He opened his eyes again to catch the flash of surprise across the other man's face quickly shift to one of sorrow. Brows knit together, Danny shifted in seat, scooting to the edge of the chair, shoulders bowed. He blew out a slow breath and scrubbed a hand over the stubble dusting his jaw, the lines around his eyes seeming darker, more pronounced. "Steve…" he hesitated, "Catherine never made it back from Afghanistan."

Memory skittered back then. Reports that said "ssédza dzhangyaalay" had finally been caught… reports he'd refused to believe… until a video had surfaced…

Eyes suddenly burning, throat closing around a lump that hurt much worse than whatever razorblades he'd somehow managed to swallow earlier, he couldn't breathe. If he unclenched his jaw long enough to take a breath it would all come bubbling out.

The pressure on his hand increased, joined by another on his shoulder. He risked a quick glance and caught Danny, out of his chair, crouched next to the bed, pain written on his face, throat working like he wanted to say something. But there hadn't been anything to say then that wouldn't come out hollow and there wasn't anything he could say now.

Steve could feel himself starting to shake, his free hand moved to cover his face, but he could feel the hot tears slipping past.

He should have known it was a dream. It seemed so obvious now… they had been talking underwater. The colors had been too vibrant to be real… the surface of the ocean as still and smooth as glass, not a wave or a ripple in sight. And their parachutes had sported bright yellow smiley faces.

He choked on a laugh that sounded hysterical even to his own ears, and ended in something much closer to a sob. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to breathe through it even though air was coming and leaving in jagged and unsteady bursts.

An arm abruptly hooked around his shoulder and tugged and he found himself pulled into a rough embrace, head awkwardly pressed against his partner's shoulder. The smell of stale coffee and Danny's cologne drifted from the fabric that was pressed against his face, chasing away the last impressions of saltwater, but slowly dampening with more as Steve silently shook.