"She hasn't stopped crying since she came home."

Danny sucks in a deep breath, stares at his kitchen ceiling, then slowly counts to ten. This day has already been shitty. Losing his temper with Rachel would be the icing on the cake. Tucking the cell phone back against his ear he tries again. "I'm sorry, okay. But she asked when she would see Max again and I couldn't lie to her."

"All you had to say was she'd see him soon. She's seven years old, Danny. She'll forget about it—"

"I'm not lying."

"It's not lying, it's just—"

"I can't do—"

"Danny!"

"He's not coming back!" Not ever, Danny wants to add but stops; he's already made enough of a fool of himself.

It's gone ominously quiet at the other end of the line. All Danny can hear is his own harsh breathing. As the silence drags out he feels his heart rate quicken; Rachel's always been very good at reading between the lines.

"What happened?"

Sometimes he can forget why he Rachel ended up divorcing. Once in a while the woman he fell in love with and married reappears. He's not sure he can offer her the man she married though; there's been too much water under the bridge. "The Gonzales case. It's just been…it's been a tough day."

"But that's not what you're upset about."

"I'm not upset!"

"No, of course not." Her clipped tones are more familiar. Strangely reassuring. But then there's another silence and Danny feels his heart sink again. "So. How is your Commander McGarrett? And why won't you be seeing him again?"

"He's not my Commander anything," Danny shoots back, words tumbling out before he can check them. "I told you, he was just shadowing me for a few days," he tries instead, taking a deep breath. "And that's why we won't be seeing him or Max again."

Rachel makes a humming noise in reply and Danny starts pacing, unable to keep still. In his mind's eye he can see her mulling over the facts, putting together the pieces of the puzzle. Humming always used to be a bad sign. Any second now she's going to deliver the killing blow.

"He kept looking at you, you know. At the School the other evening."

"Rach—"

"What happened, Danny?"

He betrayed me is what Danny wants to tell her, as insane as that is. He barely knows the man. Hell, there's even a small part of him that agrees McGarrett was just doing his job. But that's the way he feels: betrayed.

"It was an exchange programme, okay? He was supposed to be watching me," he offers in answer to her question, running the fingers of his free hand slowly through his hair. "That's all it was."

One beat passes, then another. "I used to look at you like that."

Danny's not sure how long he stands in the kitchen staring into nothing after the line goes dead. All he's aware of is the anger he's feeling as his mind continuously reruns the events of the day.

Eventually Danny makes himself move, works his way around the house checking the windows and doors are secure. There's a van parked 100 yards down the road that's suspiciously familiar; Danny dismisses it with a shake of head. Heading for the couch he removes his gun from its holster and, placing it on the coffee table, he slumps down.

If Gonzales's men want to come for him, that's fine by him.

Danny ignores the saner part of his brain that's yelling at him how screwed up that plan is. If Gonzales is gone then so is Steve McGarrett; that's the logic he's working on. And Danny needs him to go. Because what's happened today, he's not sure how to deal with it.

Wanting to have sex with someone you hate is not healthy. Danny doesn't have to talk to a relationship counsellor to know that.

He berates himself for being an idiot as the thoughts stack up one on top of the other. He's not having a relationship with anyone, certainly not someone like Steve McGarrett. He's not even sure Steve's interested. Yeah, right, his anger-fuelled brain sneers back at him. Danny thumps his head back into the couch, letting out a frustrated groan.

His brain's turning so fast, so full of angry noise, it's a while before he notices the rucksack stuffed under his coffee table. Danny pulls it out, curses when a smaller bag falls out of a side pocket, the contents rattling as they hit the floor. Frowning Danny retrieves it, weighs it in his hand. Pill vials, he decides, curling his fingers; as a detective he's dealt with a lot of drugs. Danny tells himself that's why he's unzipping the bag; it's professional interest, not spying or invading Steve's privacy.

One name on the label he recognises; it's pain medication. There're a couple of inhalers, some analgesic cream. Danny's not sure about the rest but they've been prescribed by a doctor at Tripler Medical Center. A quick search on the internet would probably explain what they're all for. Danny feels like he's revealing something intimate though; a wave of guilt makes him start putting them back.

Danny's startled by the sound of his cell phone ringing; it's like someone's been reading his mind. He drops the vial and it rolls under the table, almost out of reach. Cursing, he kneels down on the floor to retrieve it, pulling out his phone at the same time. It's not a number he recognises. The voice at the other end makes him clamber to his feet in a rush.

"Could I speak to Grace Williams, please?"

Danny's got his hand on his gun before he even realises it. As he explains that he's her father there's a lot of scenarios going through his head; none of them are good.

"Oh." There's a long pause that makes Danny grind his teeth. "Do you own the dog as well then?"

"What?" Half way to the front door Danny freezes, his face scrunching up in confusion. "We don't own a dog."

"Oh." There's muffled talking on the other end of the line before another voice takes over, more confident this time. "I'm sorry about that. My name is Christine Chen. I work at the Diamond Head Veterinary practice. A dog was bought in this evening. It has a microchip registered to a Mr McGarrett. Unfortunately he's not answering his phone and—"

Danny's brain catches up in a blink. "You've got Steve's dog? Max?"

"That's correct. As I said, unfortunately Mr McGarrett is not answering his phone. We needed to contact someone urgently and as your daughter's name and telephone number is on the dog's collar…"

Danny lets her carry on talking, his brain focussing on the information she's shared. He might only have known them for a few days but there's no way Steve would let the dog wander off on his own. "Stop. Go back," Danny cuts in, grabbing his car keys and jacket. "What's happened to Max?"

"A car hit him, out on the Diamond Head Road," she explains in a tone that suggests she's already said this once. "But we think he may have been injured before that. There's a wound on one of his back legs. We think he may have been shot at."

Her words poleaxe him for a moment. Then Danny's moving again. "I'm on my way."

Danny's got half his mind focused on getting his wallet out to retrieve Max's 'business' card and half on making sure he's locked the front door behind him. That's why it doesn't register at first that someone's standing at the end of his driveway. When it does Danny pulls out his gun and is aiming it at the shadowy figure in a flash.

"Hey, it's okay! My name's Manny. The Boss sent me."

Danny peers at him through the early evening darkness, beckons him forward a few steps before demanding his ID. Out of the corner of his eye Danny can see the van has got its lights on but it's not moving. He takes that as a good sign.

"Sorry, man," Manny apologises when he gives him back his card. "Didn't mean to spook you. I just came by to get the Boss's things," he explains with a smile. "He said you'd be angry but not this-"

"You've spoken to him?"

"No. Text." The smile's disappeared, replaced with a frown. "What's going on?"

Danny elbows past him, heading for the car. There's something badly wrong. He can feel it.

"Hang on." Danny stops; Manny's holding a cell phone in front of his face. Automatically Danny takes it, puts it to his ear just in time to hear someone pick up. "Billy," Manny explains to him when he looks over. "He's in charge when the Boss is away."

Danny has a new-found respect for military efficiency when he finishes the call several minutes later. Billy's going to meet him at the vets while his team track down Steve. There's a tone to his voice though that tells Danny he's not the only one who's worried.

And there is one other problem remaining: Manny won't let him get in his own car.

"No way." Manny's herding him away from the Camaro, giving him no choice but to keep walking towards the van.

"I can drive myself," Danny can't stop himself from insisting, despite his need to just get moving. He's been handled one time too many today.

"Uh, uh. Boss's orders. Don't let you out of our sight."

"Really?" Manny nudges him forward. Danny sticks his heels in, locks his knees up tight. "You sure that's gonna work? I thought you guys were putting us out as bait."

"Bait?" Manny's come to a halt like Danny wanted. Except now he's standing in the way, arms crossed, his expression wary. "You're not a friend of Walters, are you?"

"The DEA guy? No."

"Good. 'Cos the Boss said we're following his plan now."

Apparently that signals the end of the conversation. Danny's being pushed into the back of the van and they're pulling away before he can get his jumbled thoughts into order. As he blinks, eyes adjusting to the darkness inside the cab, he realises that Manny's got two other men with him. Silently they stare back.

The van's old, creaky and it reeks of gas – from the outside it appears barely road-worthy. But inside it's filled wall to wall with electronic equipment. There's also something that looks suspiciously like a gun cabinet in one corner, top of the range security. Danny can remember the Captain complaining that HPD wouldn't spring for something similar. The DEA must be paying really well.

The sight of so much military hardware is reassuring. But Danny still can't make himself sit still.

The sound of Manny's cell ringing breaks the silence. Danny doesn't miss the way the three men exchange worried glances as Manny takes the call. The tension rises further when Manny puts his phone away, shaking his head. Steve's still not answering his phone.

There's no way Steve would have left his team hanging this long if he'd been in a position to contact them, Danny guesses. It's starting to look like Gonzales has made his move.

The van accelerates, weaving through the early evening traffic. The change of speed seems to act like a silent signal to the other men. Suddenly they're moving, checking weapons, expressions focussed, no time for the outsider in their midst. Danny takes the hint, sliding through the small space to take the front passenger seat. Belting in he glances out of the window. They're still fifteen minutes out from Diamond Head. And it's at least another ten minutes by road to where Steve lives.

"Scale of one to ten?" he asks quietly, catching Manny's gaze.

Manny makes a see-saw motion with his hand. "Gonzales's men may have bitten off more than they can chew." He checks on the road, looks back again. "You okay there?"

Danny clears his throat, turns his attention back to the traffic outside. Somehow in the middle of this shit-fest he's managed to get attached to a man he barely knows; might never get to know better if Gonzales is the reason Steve's gone off the grid.

Right now Danny's got no idea whether he's okay or not.

H50H50H50H50H50

Danny identifies Billy instantly as they pull into the parking lot of the vet clinic. It's not just the top-to-toe black outfit he's wearing, or the way he's leaning against a black 4x4 truck, with tinted glass. He'd seen him at the mall that morning, he suddenly realises. He'd been following Steve as he went after Gonzales's men.

Billy doesn't waste time with introductions, just indicates with a nod that Danny should follow him. "We still haven't been able to contact Steve," Billy explains, striding out at a fast pace. "I've got a team going over to his place now and HPD are on their way. The couple who found Max are still here so we'll get the intel from them and decide on our next move."

Danny's heart sinks at the news. But there's something, someone else he's worried about. "What about Rachel and Grace? If Gonzales is—"

"Steve's orders were to lock down their house if things went south," Billy shoots back, pushing through the entrance doors, not missing a beat. "I've got reinforcements going over there now and to Detective Kelly's location."

"And the DEA? Shouldn't their agents be here if—"

"This is our operation now, Detective. If we're tasked to protect someone that's what we do. If Gonzales wants to come after you or your colleagues they have to come through us. It's as simple as that."

There's a chilling finality to the other man's words. Danny doesn't realise he's stopped walking until Billy looks back over his shoulder, impatience written on his face. Danny's a police officer, he's the one who's usually tasked to protect people. When the Captain had insisted on him accepting the extra protection he'd never actually thought it would come to this.

People are risking their lives to protect his family.

Steve may have already given his life to protect Grace.

The thought pops up into Danny's head unbidden, sucking the air from his lungs. He's vaguely aware that Billy's come back and is hunkered down in front of him, a deep frown on his face. There're so many thoughts running through Danny's head. But there's one that's screaming to be let out. "Do you think Gonzales has killed him?"

Billy studies him for a moment, his frown growing. "He's going to have a tough job on his hands," he replies, planting his hand on Danny's arm with a firm grip, tugging. "Steve's survived worse."

Danny doesn't have time to think over that statement, a member of staff is introducing them to the couple who found Max. Billy's intense questioning obviously makes the couple uncomfortable but Danny silently applauds his technique. There's always a chance that these people are involved in some way, even if they do seem horrified that they've hit the dog.

"What do you think?" Danny asks once they've finished.

Billy's silent for a moment, thinking things through. "Max was heading east along the Diamond Head Road. That's away from Steve's place. He wasn't trying to get home."

"So, was he…following something?" Danny wonders if that's a dumb question; he'd never actually asked what the dog was trained to do.

Billy considers the question, thumbs open his cell phone. "He'd follow Steve."

Steve's team seems to know everyone on the island, Danny decides, as he listens to Billy reeling off instructions. In a few minutes he's got people checking CCTV and traffic cameras along all possible routes, starting from the encampment.

Billy turns indecisive when he finishes though; he looks over at the entrance and then back to reception several times. Danny takes a minute to catch on but then he takes the initiative. He speaks to one of the staff who takes them through to a treatment room.

"Max is sedated," a nurse explains to them, her voice low. "We're about to prep him for surgery."

"We'll just be a minute," Danny assures her.

"Steve'll want to know he's okay," Billy says at the same time, his words coming out in a rush.

Steve's not the only one, Danny thinks. He's going to have to add himself to that list as he crouches next to Billy to look at Max who's stretched out in an open cage. Danny has to swallow down the swell of emotion in his throat as he listens to Billy talk quietly to the barely-conscious animal.

When Billy steps back Danny reaches out to gently stroke back the wiry fur between the dog's ears. Max's eyes are barely open but he lets out a tiny whine. "I know, buddy. You're worried about him too, huh? We'll figure this out. I promise."

"It's lucky he had this on his collar."

Danny turns around; the nurse is standing behind him, a pink heart made of paper in her hand. A piece of glitter-covered ribbon is threaded through the top. Danny takes it, turns it over, instantly recognising Grace's block handwriting on the back. "My daughter," he explains as Billy looks over. "She's fallen in love with Max."

Danny's not sure what expression he's wearing but the nurse touches his shoulder. "He's in good hands. Once we've cleaned him up and he's had the surgery we'll have a better idea of his prognosis. He's in good condition though, that will help." She pauses, looks apologetic. "We weren't sure about the burn marks on his back. We can see they're old but we weren't sure—"

"Chemical burns. Afghanistan," Billy cuts in, pushing himself to his feet. "Insurgent attack."

"They targeted the dog?" The nurse sounds horrified. Billy doesn't answer, just heads for the door.

Danny knows he should follow him but suddenly his shoes feel like they're full of lead. It's not a co-incidence that Steve and Max have similar types of scarring. On some level he'd understood what he was looking at when he'd caught Steve putting on his shirt, that is was linked to Max in some way. But what Billy has just described, however briefly, is conjuring up horrific images in his mind.

"You coming?"

Danny's only half-concentrating as he follows Billy to the truck. As they drive away he can feel the other man watching him. "It wasn't just Max they targeted, was it?" Danny asks finally, unable to keep the words inside.

There's silence. A long one. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Billy considering what he's just asked. When a reply comes it throws him for a loop. "So your daughter's fallen in love with Max, huh?"

"Kinda difficult not to," Danny answers after a beat, struggling to know where to pitch his answer. There's an underlying current here, so much he could accidentally give away. "He's a lady killer with those big brown eyes."

"Yeah." The word is wrapped around a long, tired sigh. Billy studies him again before straightening his back, his attention on the road ahead. "Afghanistan. The insurgents, they hated the K-9 units, man. So much. The kids over there, they love them."

"Just like Grace?"

"Just like Grace," Billy nods, his lips quirking upwards. "Us, we were supposed to treat the dogs like another weapon. Dispensable."

But you didn't, Danny fills in for him silently, remembering the way Billy had just managed to calm the injured animal. "You become attached."

"They're one of the team." Billy shrugs, aiming for nonchalant and failing badly. He clears his throat and tries again. "It makes them targets. People become…inventive. Come up with new ways to take the dogs out."

"And take out their handlers as well." Danny looks out of the window again, hates his brain for supplying images to go with Billy's explanation.

"Yeah." Billy pauses, a shadow passing over his face. "That day with Steve… It was just a normal patrol, not that unusual," he explains as they join the main highway, the truck accelerating to slip into the traffic. "We were just coming out of a compound, the kids had been making a fuss of Max. And then-"

Danny looks away, pretends not to notice the way Billy is biting his lower lip, his breathing sounding harsh over the sound of the truck's engine. "Steve was lucky," Billy continues, straightening his shoulders. "Some of the guys it's happened to have been blinded, had their lungs compromised much worse."

Billy doesn't say anything else; Danny knows he wouldn't hear him even if he did. The chatter in his head is deafening. There's part of him that wants to know why someone's lungs would be compromised after a chemical attack. He needs to understand just how bad the damage is.

But there's another part of him saying it's none of his business, that this vice-like feeling around his heart is just a passing phase. Right now he should be with Grace and Rachel, not out searching for a man he barely knows.

Danny crosses his arms tightly across his chest, trying to ignore the feeling of dread lining his stomach. As roller-coaster rides go this is a bad one; he feels totally out of control.

H50H50H50H50

The chatter in Danny's head is silenced when they arrive at the encampment. It's replaced with a growing feeling of panic.

Police cruisers are parked along the road, their blue flashing lights giving the tents an eerie glow. Much more worrying are the fire trucks with hoses trailing around them. As Danny gets out of the car he can smell smoke; it tastes bitter and ominous on his tongue.

Billy's moving like a guided missile, pushing the people who are watching out of the way. Danny speeds up behind him, takes a shallow breath, then another. His heart feels like it's hammering against his ribs. He tastes bile as they reach the other side of the encampment, feels his stomach cramp painfully. The charred remains of Steve's trailer are starkly outlined by the emergency lighting set up by the rescue teams. There's nothing left of Steve's home.

"Sonofabitch. Please don't tell me he was in there." Billy's voice sounds broken. Danny knows exactly how he feels.

"He wasn't. And he's not any other place around here either." It's Manny who's materialised out of the darkness behind them and for a second Danny considers giving him a relieved slap on the shoulder. Manny's murderous expression warns him against it. Danny tucks his shaking hands in his pockets and waits. "A couple of people ID'ed a van hanging around that they hadn't seen before," Manny reports to Billy. "HPD have put out a BOLO on it and we're checking all CCTV."

"Good." The blazing anger in Billy's eyes, the muscle twitching in his jaw, tells Danny he's not the only one who'd love to get his hands on Gonzales right now. "We're going to get these bastards. Get the rest of the team here, Manny. We've got some work to do."

Danny watches them head back to Billy's truck before turning his attention back to the wrecked trailer. He'd had a gut feeling about this; now he wishes like hell he'd been wrong. Gonzales is sending out a clear message, he's telling the DEA and HPD that he's in charge here. That he has the power to destroy anyone or anything that gets in his way - including Steve.

H50H50H50

"He awake yet?"

Steve bites back a groan as another foot connects with his side. His head's ringing, his vision still blurred. He tries not to flinch away, to give himself more time to figure out what the hell is going on but it's pointless. Rough hands are lifting him up by the shoulders, pulling him off the dirt floor. The move jars a couple of ribs that he's pretty sure are broken, pulls at the scarred skin on his back. Pain shoots across his chest and this time he can't stop a groan escaping.

The coughing jag that follows in inevitable.

It always starts at the top of his lungs, tightening the muscles as he drags air in, causing a ripple effect that acts like a vice around his chest. Usually it only happens when he exerts himself, pushes his lungs beyond their reduced capacity. As he tries not to panic it vaguely occurs to him that his ribs must be really fucked up.

"What the hell's wrong with him?"

Looking up is beyond Steve at the moment but someone grabs his hair and pulls back hard. As his head comes up he feels his heart missing a beat.

Gonzales is standing in front of him.

Steve knows that at any other time he'd feel like cheering. This is what Danny had wanted, a chance to catch the bastard himself. Now he's here though Steve's not sure what the hell he's supposed to do about it. Breathing is his only priority – single-handedly taking out an international drugs baron is way down on his list of things to do.

"Hey!"

A slap across the face snaps Steve's head backwards. Whatever they hit him over the head with originally did its job; everything's phasing in and out, sounds around him going muted then loud again. Blinking doesn't improve his vision much, just allows him to see the next blow coming before it lands.

Idiots, Steve thinks vaguely, as they try shaking him instead. What's the point of hitting someone who's already got a concussion and busted ribs? You're never going to get anything out of them that way.

Apparently Gonzales's men agree with him. The hands supporting him suddenly disappear. Steve's legs fold under him and he crumbles to the ground. He can hear a voice in his head yelling at him to get back up, that he's a target, that he's vulnerable when he's down. But he's got nothing left.

Nothing.

Closing his eyes he lets himself go.

H50H50H50H50

When Steve wakes up the second time things are a little clearer. Not better, he acknowledges, taking in his surroundings. He's still stuck in a makeshift cell in what looks like a deserted office building. But at least he can see that now, even if his vision is a bit blurry round the edges. And it doesn't feel like someone's trying to rip his lungs out of his chest.

Steve actually feels optimistic as he catalogues the rest of his injuries: a sore head, busted ribs and an impressive collection of bruises are all things he can deal with. And although his hands and feet are taped tightly together, the idiots have left his hands in front of him.

Tamping down the instinct to get moving, Steve strains his ears to listen, to get a better idea of his surroundings. Apparently he's been out of it for a while – weak, early morning sunlight is creeping through the blinds on the windows. There are voices nearby, loud enough to be heard over the sound of traffic from outside. They're male, speaking Spanish. And from the tone they seem fairly relaxed. Steve files that information away but he lets himself hope, just a little bit. If all they're doing is waiting for him to wake up then that might mean they haven't taken anyone else yet.

Or it could mean there are more men out on the island somewhere and right now they're busy grabbing Danny and Grace.

Steve's blindsided by the unwelcome thought; it steals his next breath, threatens another coughing fit. Burying his face in his forearm he breathes through his nose, blinking back the tears he can feel forming. His chance to escape will evaporate if Gonzales's men hear him.

There's no way he's going to throw away that opportunity.

Shuffling across the floor on his ass takes more energy than Steve would like. Every movement pulls at his injured ribs, sending a stab of pain across his chest. He's looking for something sharp to cut the restraining tape with - he's rewarded when he finds a piece of broken glass.

Leaning down to release his ankles makes the world go grey around the edges but Steve pushes through it. His wrists are easier to release - it only takes one small cut and brute strength does the rest. Getting his feet under him with a grunt of effort, he uses a wall to help push himself upright. He's still gulping in air, his legs shaking from a lack of oxygen. But he's up and he's moving in a fashion.

Already he's visualising how he wants this to end. Walters wants Gonzales for questioning. But Gonzales isn't going to go for that. So Steve is going to take him out. It's the only way Danny and Grace will be safe.

And he is going to keep them safe. Whether Danny wants him to or not.

Steve slams down hard on that last thought as it threatens to rob him of air again. Breaking out of his makeshift cell takes some effort and a lot of silent cursing but it's not long before Steve's working his way through the abandoned office. Adrenaline finally starts to take over; he's grateful, it helps him think.

The sound of a door opening and closes grabs his attention. Steve follows it, carefully shifting from wall to wall. He's not under any illusions about how dangerous this is; Gonzales's men might sound relaxed but once they realise he's gone he'll be hunted, surrounded in territory he doesn't know.

So he feels like he's been given a gift when one of Gonzales's men crosses the corridor just in front of him. Yawning widely he disappears into a restroom. Steve intercepts him on the way back out; the man makes it easy, he's still zipping up. Once he's hidden the body in a cupboard Steve gives himself a chance to regroup; his ribs hadn't enjoyed dragging a 200lb unconscious man. On the bright side the man had been armed; Steve's now the owner of two guns and a t-bar knife.

Steve uses the knife when another of Gonzales's men appears. It's quick and dirty; the man had been about to shout out. Wiping the knife on his shirt Steve tucks it in his belt and moves on. He repeats the manoeuvre when another man appears a few minutes later. Adrenaline's keeping him going but the concussion is affecting his co-ordination and balance; he knows he hasn't got long.

The empty building is a labyrinth of short corridors and closed doors. Steve cocks his head again and listens. There's a gap along the top of all the walls; it's why he could hear the voices clearly but it also means they're carrying further than he originally thought.

Steve nods to himself, starts moving again. There's less voices now, he hadn't imagined it. Gonzales has only got a small crew here. Getting out and raising the alarm would still be the logical option. But his gut instinct is still to see this out. Steve tells himself it's not his heart doing the thinking as he checks the two guns again. Cutting the head off the snake that is Gonzales's operation is a tactically sound decision.

Even if he is putting himself at unnecessary risk.

Steve tucks the spare gun in his waistband and readies the other one. Putting his ear to the nearest door he listens; it's definitely Gonzales and his men on the other side. Creeping along further, Steve checks the rooms on both sides and his heart sinks. There are no obvious points of entry apart from the one door; there's a small ledge that runs underneath the windows but he'd be suicidal to take that route. Hunched over with his damaged ribs he'd be a sitting target.

Steve feels a surge of hope though as he looks out of the window again. He'd thought that they were in an unpopulated area but there are people walking around outside. Yelling for help isn't an option but he's got a better idea.

It takes him another ten minutes to set everything up; all the time Steve's expecting Gonzales to come looking for his men. By the time Steve fires the first shot out of the window and ducks down behind the makeshift barricade he's made out of tables, the adrenaline is thrumming through his veins. He's actually relieved when two of Gonzales's men appear, guns raised.

Steve picks them off systematically, like target practice at the firing range. Vaguely he's aware of panicked voices outside in the street but all he's really focused on is the weight of the gun in his hand. The next few targets are harder to pick off, he doesn't have the element of surprise anymore. Blood drips into his eyes as wood splinters from the tables fly through the air but Steve blinks it away, fires again.

He's only got a few bullets left; he's been keeping count carefully. The knife's a reassuring weight against his back, he double checks it, gets ready. Outside, in the distance, there's the sound of police sirens. Steve allows himself a small smile, takes a deep breath, pulling together the remains of his waning energy for one last push.

The sound of gun being cocked behind him makes Steve freeze. Still hunched down, he slowly turns. Gonzales is standing behind him, a shotgun in his hands. Grinning widely he jerks the barrel upwards. Steve takes the hint, pushing himself awkwardly to his feet.

Steve can hear sirens in the distance getting louder. As he looks into Gonzales's eyes his heart wrenches; he's certain at that moment that he won't see Danny again. Max will be looked after by Billy; they've discussed that so many times. But more time with Danny...

Gonzales is still grinning. The sirens are getting louder but there're not here yet. A couple more minutes, Steve guesses, tensing every muscle.

He needs to make every one of those minutes count.

H50H50H50H50H50

"What the hell?" Billy's voice is pitched low, he sounds worried.

Danny's asking himself the same question as Billy pulls up and parks. They'd been working at HPD headquarters when a call had come in confirming a sighting of the van from the encampment. The directions had led them to a deserted office building. They'd arrived expecting to meet the uniformed officers who had put the call in. Instead there is a SWAT team, EMTs and police cruisers. A lot of police cruisers.

"Danny! Over here!"

Danny takes a few seconds to trace the voice amongst the throng of emergency personnel. Then he nudges Billy to follow him before pushing a path through the crowd. His target is Sgt Harry O'Reilly. A twenty year veteran of HPD, he looks after the rookie cops at headquarters. Danny had met him when he'd first joined the force and they'd understood each other instantly. But now Harry's looking worried, which means Danny is too.

It's been a long, frustrating night.

The van they'd been pinning all their hopes on had disappeared into thin air, until the call had come in. Hastily arranged raids on the known locations of Gonzales's men had come up empty too. It was like they were chasing a ghost.

And now the bastard has Steve. They're sure of that; there's no other explanation.

Danny's been trying not to think about that; about what's happening to Steve. He's watched Billy and his team struggle with the same thoughts. The tip-off about the van had been more than welcome, only now it looks like events have overtaken them.

Harry wastes no time explaining what's happening. "It was just dumb luck the officers spotted the van. They'd stopped for breakfast, were sitting across the road in the diner when they noticed it parked next to that office building. They called it in then decided to ask around, see if anyone had been seen around the van. The lady behind the counter identified this man."

Harry's got his phone out to show them a picture. Danny sucks in a sharp breath - beside him he can hear Billy doing the same.

It's Gonzales.

"Yeah. So, being the sensible boys they are they don't go in all guns blazing. They call it in."

Billy's nodding, his eyebrows drawn together in a deep frown. "So that's when SWAT were mobilised."

"Nope." Harry indicates the building with a jerk of his head. "They were called when the gunfire started. A lot of gunfire," he adds with a grimace.

"Steve." Danny knows it's just a hunch but he can see the same hope in Billy's eyes.

"Maybe." Harry's tone is cautious; the sympathy in his eyes says a lot more. "SWAT cleared the area. The EMTs have just gone in."

Billy's already moving. Danny quickly thanks Harry then follows close behind. He feels his heartbeat ratchet up when they finally negotiate their way into the building; the place is a maze of blind corners, every time they turn one Danny's terrified what they'll find.

His racing heart flickers as they approach the first group of SWAT officers guarding a dead body. Even from a distance it's obvious it's not Steve. Too big, too bulky, it's wearing a brightly patterned Hawaiian shirt. A shirt that's covered in blood; his throat's been cut.

Danny knows he's staring, has to mentally shake himself to stop. Billy's kneeling down beside the body, checking up close. When he stands up he's nodding - it takes Danny's brain a few moments to catch up.

"Steve?"

"Yup." Billy acknowledges the SWAT officers and then starts walking again.

There's another body around the next corner; it looks like it's tumbled out of a closet, sprawled across the floor. Face down it's clear the cause of death is the knife wound in its back. Billy doesn't pause.

There's a strong smell of cordite, it grows stronger as they move further into the building. Danny quickens his pace as they hear more voices but Billy's faster, almost jogging. Danny's so busy trying to keep up that when Billy suddenly stops around a corner he nearly canons into him.

"Jeez." Billy looks stunned and Danny understands why; they've just walked into a large open plan room and the scene in front of them is pure carnage. Danny does a quick head count, there are five bodies lying amongst overturned tables and chairs. At least three of them are Gonzales's men; they must have gone Hawaiian shirt shopping together. But he feels the blood drain from his face because there's one body dressed in black and it looks like…

"Steve!"

Danny's head jerks round at Billy's yell. The other man's not looking at the body in black; there's two EMTs crouched in the far corner and sitting propped up against the wall between them is Steve. It's obvious he's been in a fight; his face is pale under the blood smears that cover it. But Danny's never been so grateful to see anyone in his life.

As Billy hurries over Danny allows himself a minute. His body's shaking anyway; he's not sure how much use he'll be. Steve tries to sit up straighter when he spots Billy, despite a protest from the EMTs. Billy drops down beside Steve, reaches out to reassure his friend but Steve's still looking for something, a glint of panic in his eyes. Then Billy leans down to say something in his ear and Steve's gaze swings around the room again. He's squinting, Danny notes with a frown. But there's no mistaking the moment he sees Danny; Steve's expression morphs from worried to utterly overjoyed.

Danny wobbles. It feels like someone's just sucked all the air out of his lungs.

Billy's waving him over but it's a few seconds before Danny's legs will work. Then he's dropping down into the space vacated by Billy as the other man shifts to start rattling off medical details to the EMTs. Steve's got both hands lying in his lap, curled into tight fists. Danny reaches over to tuck his fingers around one hand, relieved as Steve's fingers relax and let him in. They're warm and solid underneath his; they feel so reassuringly real.

"I'm sorry."

Steve's eyelids are drooping with tiredness but his gaze is still intense. Danny feels his face flush, has to look away. He could ask Steve what he's sorry for but he already knows. This is all about their last conversation before Steve had gone missing. Danny had meant what he'd said back then; right now it doesn't seem so important. "Later," he replies honestly. He doesn't like the way Steve's breath is hitching around every word, his lips pressed together in pain.

Danny can see the EMTs working out of the corner of his eye. They're unpacking equipment from one of their kit bags. Danny has to restrain himself; he really wants to tell them to hurry up. The fingers wrapped around his keep tightening and loosening. Using his thumb to draw small circles he tries to soothe Steve's pain.

"Where's Max?"

Danny nearly misses Steve's question, his voice is so quiet. There's a hint of confusion too which sends off warning bells in his head. Danny forces himself not to look guilty as he looks over at Billy. Despite worrying about the injured animal all night, in between worrying about Steve, he'd completely forgotten about Max since they'd got the call about the van. Max had come through the surgery well but wasn't out of the woods yet: Danny knows he can't tell Steve that.

Billy kneels down beside them, puts a reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder. "Manny's looking after him."

"No." Billy's grip tightens as Steve tries to sit up further, his face twisted in a scowl. "He'll feed him doughnuts and that—"

"—will be Manny's problem to sort out," Billy finishes for him, gently pushing him back down.

Steve's expression turns more mulish when an EMT appears with an oxygen mask. He glares silently at each of them in turn before conceding. His eyes drift closed as his warm breaths fog up the mask. The EMTs take that as their signal to get their patient ready for transport; Danny can't hide a wince as the grip around his fingers tightens like a vice.

There's talk about a possible concussion and suspected broken ribs, neither of which surprise Danny. Steve's got a lump the size of an egg on the side of his head and where the EMTs have cut away his shirt there's already bruising visible on his torso.

Danny can feel his blood pressure rising; all of a sudden he just wants to smack the hell out of something, somebody. And that's when it occurs to him that they haven't seen Gonzales. Danny twists around to check out the room again, surprised to see how many more people there are now. On the far side of the room, by the opposite entrance, there's a huddle of SWAT officers standing around a body.

Danny allows himself a grim smile when he confirms it is Gonzales. It takes him a moment though; Gonzales' face is obscured by blood. Danny's initial thought is that someone had shot him but there's something that looks like a wooden table leg lying next to the body. Broken off at one end, it's covered in blood; it seems to have been used as an impromptu weapon.

"He said he'd protect you."

Billy might have whispered but Danny hears the message loud and clear. Looking around the room again he re-evaluates his assessment of the scene. It's not carnage Danny's looking at, it's carefully executed destruction. The level of violence is frightening; it sends a shiver down his spine. But he'd be lying if he didn't admit he's grateful. Steve's kept his family safe.

Danny's so engrossed he doesn't notice Steve's eyes are open; he's blinking blearily over the top of the mask. Danny forces himself to hold Steve's gaze this time. The other man's expression is hopeful but also wary. It's a combination that squeezes at Danny's heart. He's been trying to ignore his feelings but now he lets them out, praying that what's he's feeling will be conveyed in his eyes.

Steve's eyes widen in understanding. Then his body slumps in release, like he'd been bracing himself for a blow. He starts coughing, wracking coughs that make his shoulders shake. It's obvious he's finding it hard to breathe even with the mask on. There's hurried movement from the EMTs, some colourful cursing from Billy. Danny just holds on, feels his own shoulders relax when the coughing finally stops.

"Sssh, babe. I got you." Danny freezes; he's just used the same tone he would with Grace. He feels exposed, like he's just pulled out his heart for the whole world to see. But the EMTs have carried on, oblivious. Beside them Billy's nodding, a small smile on his face.

"Let's get you two out of here," Billy prompts him as more EMTs appear. Danny holds on until the last moment before standing back to let them do their work. Steve's eyes are barely open but he's breathing easier. It's probably just exhaustion catching up with him, Danny tells himself, looking around the room one last time before they leave.

They've all been through one hell of a day.

H50H50H50H50

"Will you stop fussing!" Steve knows he sounds like an ungrateful bastard. But his ribs are giving him hell and the rest of his body feels like it's gone up against a prize fighter. Which, when Steve thinks about it, it probably has; Gonzales had been no slouch with his fists. Luckily he'd been distracted by the arrival of HPD.

It really had been that close.

Steve locks that thought at the back of his mind, concentrating all his energy on walking to Billy's truck. The four days he's spent in the hospital have dragged on forever - he can't get out of the place quick enough. He can feel rather than see Billy following him on one side, Danny following further behind on the other. He and Billy have been here together before; it's Danny that Steve's feeling guilty about. This isn't a version of himself that he would have chosen to share with Danny, not this early on in the relationship at least.

He's shuffling like an eighty year-old granny for fuck's sake.

Steve's silent as he gets into Billy's truck - the fact that he needs his friend's help to climb in is just too embarrassing for words. He closes his eyes as Danny takes the seat up front next to Billy, lets his mind drift as they head for the hotel he's going to be staying in while he looks for a new place.

Danny had broken the news to him about the destruction of his trailer. Steve guesses Danny had been expecting a bigger reaction from him. But at the time he'd just been grateful he was alive. Now the knowledge has finally sunk in Steve's not sure what to do. Most of his parents' belongings are in storage. He's never felt attached to them but he understands their worth enough not to throw them away. He's not afraid of making a new start either. It's just he's not sure yet whether he's going to have someone to make that new start with.

Steve feels a shiver of excitement go down his spine. It's quickly followed by a shiver of dread. He's had no time to talk to Danny about what's happening; his time in the hospital had been spent answering HPD's questions and focusing on getting mobile again. He has made one discovery though: Danny's almost as good a guard dog as Max. Steve smiles to himself at the memory of Danny throwing Walters out of his hospital room.

Steve's woken by the sound of excited barking; he hadn't even realised he'd passed out. He has just enough time to realise they've stopped when the truck door opens and Max appears, trying to lick any part of Steve he can reach. It's obvious to Steve that the dog's still suffering from his injuries – normally by now he would have a lap full of excited German Shepherd greeting him. He's relieved beyond words to see him but Max's head is resting against a particularly sore rib. It hurts like hell.

"Shit. Okay, that's not going to work, buddy." Danny appears in Steve's line of vision, his expression apologetic. He grabs Max by the collar and gently pulls him back. "Come on. You can slobber him to death when he gets inside."

Steve's admiring the way Danny's managing to drag Max back inside the house; he knows just how strong the dog is. And then it hits him – it's Danny's house they're parked outside of. "No," Steve whispers as it sinks in just how much he's been played. "No."

Billy appears in front of him, effectively cutting off Steve's only escape route. It's clear he's not in the mood for arguing. "I'm going to explain this to you only once, Steve. Just the once," he emphasises as Steve debates whether it's worth trying one last break for freedom. "Those goofy looks you and Danny have on your faces when you don't think the other one is looking? That means you like each other."

"I can't just barge into his house and-"

"It's not barging if someone's invited you. And if you don't get in there in the next 30 seconds I'm going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you, broken ribs or not."

"You wouldn't…"

"Twenty-nine-"

"Goofy?"

"If you ever tell the team I used that word I'm gonna kill you. Twenty-eight-"

"Okay. Okay!"

'Twenty-seven—"

"Will you shut up already? And give me your arm. I can't get out of this damn thing on my own."

Danny reappears as they make it to the porch. Steve pretends to ignore the worried frown on his face, just keeps on moving. If his memory is correct the couch is only a few feet past the front door. His plan is that he's going to sit in it, maybe even go to sleep. And hopefully the world will seem like a better place in a few hours.

Steve's right about the location of the couch but his heart sinks as Billy helps him get comfortable. Danny's bustling: he's got pillows and a blanket and so much other stuff that Steve just wants to yell that he's not some goddamn damsel in distress.

"Don't." Billy's kneeling down beside him, watching as Danny disappears into the kitchen. "That crap with Gonzales, it scared him, okay? So just let him do this."

Before Steve can answer the kitchen door reopens and Max shoots out, all paws and tail. Despite the enthusiasm he's got a noticeable limp. One of his front legs has been wrapped from top to bottom with a dressing and there's a large shaved patch of skin near one back leg. It's a toss-up which one of them looks more beaten up.

"It's not as bad as it looks."

Steve nods at Danny but he can't stop himself from running his hands over Max's body, checking everything for himself. Max leans against his leg, letting out a happy whine as Steve gently runs his fingers through his fur.

"I've been feeding him some extra chicken and rice," Danny explains as he and Billy look on. "He wouldn't eat the normal food you'd left so the nurses suggested—"

"What?" Stilling his hands, Steve looks up at both men in surprise. "Max is an eating machine, Danny. He'll eat anything you put in front of him. It doesn't matter if he's fit or not."

Danny looks confused at his explanation. Billy, however, has found something interesting to look at on the ceiling. Steve knows what is coming next; he saves Billy the effort of explaining. "Max gave you the big eyes, didn't he? And you fell for it."

Bottom lip caught between his teeth, Billy's looking everywhere but at them. "He was missing you. I just figured—"

"Hang on a second. Are you saying I've been tricked by a dog?" Danny's puffed up and indignant.

Steve can't stop a huff of laughter escaping, despite the way it pulls at his ribs. He's trying to impress Danny though, he reminds himself. It's probably time to show he's a responsible dog owner. Putting on his sternest face, Steve turns his attention on Max. His façade almost slips as Max slides down to lay his head on his front legs, his brown eyes huge as his gaze moves from Steve to Billy. Finally they settle on Danny and Max's eyes grow even bigger. Slowly, ever so slowly, Max blinks.

Danny throws his hands in the air.

"You and I are going to have a talk, Maximillian," Danny declares as he heads for the kitchen. "A long, long talk." Max scrambles up to follow him, his tail wagging madly. It's obvious they've become good friends.

Steve's smiling as he watches them go but it quickly turns into a yawn. Now that he's stopped everything's catching up with him. He endures the next hour in a tired blur; there's soup and more pillows and Max licking his face in apology at every opportunity. Billy disappears at some point – Steve's not clear when – but eventually it's just him and Danny. And Max, stretched out in front of the couch, one eye opening occasionally but mostly fast asleep.

They've just argued about whether Steve should be resting in a bed. Steve's not sure if he came out on top of the argument; he suspects Danny might have just let him win. It was absolutely worth it though, despite being exhausted. Danny's beautiful when he's animated. A shiver of need ripples across Steve's skin.

"What'cha you thinking about?"

Steve opens his eyes. He hadn't even realised he'd closed them. Danny's taken the seat beside him, his eyebrows raised. "You," Steve answers, letting his eyes drift closed again. Maybe a bed wouldn't be a bad idea. But he'd imagined being back here, thought he'd lost the chance when they'd argued - he wants to enjoy it, just for a while.

Danny huffs with laughter. Steve realises he's spoken out loud. "You're an idiot," Danny berates him but there are warm fingers wrapping around his own.

Steve lets his eyes drift closed again and pulls Danny closer. The television's on mute, the glow from the screen the only illumination in the room. He's warm and relatively comfortable and everything would be perfect except for one thing. "You're staring."

The accusation comes out sharper than Steve had intended; he's tired and grouchy and there's a lot of history behind those two simple words. He doesn't need to open his eyes to know what Danny is staring at – people stare at his scars all the time. In the queue at the store, taking Max for a run on the beach, people are always looking.

"Sorry." Danny sounds embarrassed. "I'll go and let you—"

"No." Steve tightens his grip. He takes a deep breath then opens his eyes on the exhale. Danny's staring back at him, his eyes wide. His fault, Steve realises, his heart skipping at the raw emotion in Danny's eyes. Billy was right - it's time for him to step up and show Danny this attraction isn't one-sided.

"The scars used to look worse," he begins, testing out each word carefully. "When I first came back stateside they looked much worse. People used to stare and they'd ask questions and…" Steve's struggling to find the words; he hasn't shared these thoughts for a reason. These days he wears his hair much longer to hide the scars, but back then his hair had been shaved short. Even wearing a baseball cap hadn't been enough to hide them – every time he'd stepped outside his door he'd felt like a target.

"Babe-"

"I just wanted to be me," he grinds out, the memory of that time still sharp in his mind. "That's all, Danny. I didn't want to be the injured soldier, I didn't want anyone to be grateful for my service. I just…I just wanted to be left alone."

Danny squeezes his hand, pulls it closer. "So that's why you're living at the campsite."

Rubbing his hand over his face Steve realises he's shaking. His eyes are hot too. He's not even sure why he's still talking except the soft tone of Danny's voice is acting like a balm on his raw emotions. "I'm not ashamed. It's just…when I'm there…they don't care."

Danny's ominously quiet. Steve's not sure he wants to look. This isn't the way he'd wanted the evening to go. Hell, given a choice he'd never have shared those memories.

"Steve."

Steve lowers his hand. He's got no choice; Danny's tugging at his fingers, determined to make eye contact. Danny's lips are pursed tightly, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. He's angry with me, Steve thinks for a second – and then Danny's actual expression registers with his tired brain.

Danny's not angry with him. He's angry for him. He looks like he wants to go out and destroy anyone who's ever said a bad thing to Steve.

"Hey." Steve pulls Danny as close as he can get. The dizzying waves of emotion coursing through him make it impossible to do anything else.

"You know I'm a police officer, right?" Danny states when eventually he pulls away. "If you want me to go find these people—"

"So you can talk them to death for me?" Steve cuts in, forcing a smile on his face. "Yeah, why not? Let's do that, Danny. I'm sure your Captain would be thrilled with that idea."

Danny huffs but he still looks unhappy. Steve pulls him closer, tucking him against his side. "It's okay. They don't hurt anymore," he reassures him, burying his nose in his hair. "See?"

Offering is one thing, actually doing is another. Steve feels like a nervous teenager as he undoes the top buttons of his shirt but Danny's hands come up to help him. The first touch of Danny's fingers on his skin is tentative, barely there. The scarred skin is numb in places so Steve's taken by surprise when Danny's next touch sends a shiver down his spine. His body twitches in reaction, jarring the injured ribs. "Ow."

"Maybe we shouldn't—"

"Don't you dare." Steve surges forwards to block any attempt at escape but Danny's way ahead of him, meeting him before he's halfway. There's nothing tentative about their first kiss; Danny's pressing in with lips and tongue. It's messy, uncoordinated. Steve feels giddy, tasting Danny on his tongue. It's amazing – but his ribs still aren't happy with the sudden moves.

"Shit." Danny shifts off him, worry written across his face.

Steve pulls him back greedily, already missing his warmth. "Ssh. I'm good," he reassures, dipping in for another kiss. Danny's gentler this time, almost hesitant, raising a hand to stroke his jaw. Steve leans into it, throwing caution to the wind. But after a few minutes he feels breathless again; even the flush of heat sliding up his spine is not enough to keep him going. Reluctantly he pulls away, his eyes closing as he collapses back into the pillows.

"It's okay."

Steve opens his eyes again to point out that it's really not. Danny's face is only inches away, his eyes and lips crinkled in a smile. It's too much temptation; Steve reaches up for another kiss. Danny's hand on his chest stops him, pushes him back gently. He's pinned to the spot by another quick kiss and then Danny is gone, his weight shifting off the couch as Steve closes his eyes again.

Steve's not sure how much more time has passed when he's roused by one of his least favourite sounds: pills being rattled in a bottle. Eyelids at half-mast he watches as Danny appears with a tray. On it is all the medication from his overnight bag, not just the tablets he's been given by the hospital.

"Wasn't sure what you needed," Danny says as he puts it on the table, tapping his chest with his hand. "You were sounding kinda …wheezy."

Danny's right, Steve realises. His chest does feel really tight and it's not just because of the broken ribs. For a second his hand hovers over the inhaler on the tray, pride warring with common sense. He's got no problem using the inhaler – Danny watching him is what he's not comfortable with.

Steve opts for the common sense option, focusing on the mechanics of taking the medication rather than Danny's face. Danny's taken a seat on the floor beside Max, not back on the couch. He keeps looking over when he doesn't think Steve is watching, his eyebrows drawn together in a deep frown. Danny might not be talking but there are questions scrolling across his face.

Steve is beginning to understand that while Danny might be nosy as hell, when it comes to the important things he'll wait for answers – no matter how long it takes. This man he's fallen for so badly has a huge capacity for giving and not expecting anything back. But this is linked to Steve's history; it's a big part of who heis now. Danny needs to know what happened. Even if the act of retelling it makes it feel real again.

So he tells Danny about Afghanistan, about the moment the insurgents had attacked his patrol. Their first target had been Max. The glass bottles they'd thrown at the dog had been filled with lethal chemicals. Breaking on impact, the liquid inside them had sprayed over Max's back, burning through the fur and onto his skin. The dog's yelps of pain had been enough to distract the SEAL patrol: seconds later they'd been taking heavy fire.

Steve had grabbed Max and tried to pull him under cover. Curving his body over the injured animal, trying not to get his hands bitten by Max's snapping teeth, Steve hadn't noticed he'd left his back exposed. A glass bottle had hit him on the back of the neck, catching the bare skin there. Before he'd even realised what had happened the liquid chemicals had spread under his helmet and his body armour.

The rest of the incident is a panicked blur of pain and noise.

Steve has a vague memory of lying curled up on his side in the dirt. Billy's yelling at him to let go of Max, trying to unlock Steve's arms from around the dog. There are other hands trying to pull off his helmet and body armour but there're still under fire, trying to protect their own backs.

Steve's grateful when Danny sits beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. Steve wants to stop and take the comfort that Danny's offering but there's one more memory from that day that he needs to tell him about.

He's lying on the ground, his cheek pressed into the dirt. Inches from his face there's broken glass glittering in the sunlight – and wisps of vapour from the spilt chemicals are floating towards him like feathers in the wind. "It turns out that inhaling poisonous chemical fumes, even for just a few minutes, plays hell with your lungs."

"Billy said your lungs had been compromised."

"Chronic inflammation caused by the chemicals," Steve explains as Danny reaches down to tap his fingers, gently encouraging them to unfurl. "It means the breathing tubes are narrowed. They're highly sensitive to irritants."

Danny nods, his expression thoughtful. "Chemicals? Pollen? That kinda thing?"

"Strong smells, gases, dust. I'm susceptible to chest infections." Steve lists them easily from memory, he's had no choice but to learn what they all mean for him. There's one other symptom that he hasn't mentioned yet though – it's the one that effectively ended his naval career. "I can't do strenuous exercise."

"Ah." Danny's nodding slowly again, like that explains a lot of things. "I'm sorry, Steve," he says, his voice gruff with emotion. "I really am. That's gotta be hard."

They both fall silent for a while, lost in their own thoughts. Steve's focused on Danny's hand tucked in his, drawing on its warmth to ground him as his heartbeat gradually resumes its natural rhythm. The skin between his shoulder blades is clammy: he can feel sweat sliding down his spine. The memories are still lurking, threatening to come back uninvited, so he's grateful when Danny grips his hand tighter, using his thumb to draw soothing circles across the back of his hand.

Danny's the one to break the lull, indulging in a full body stretch that makes his joints pop. He twists and leans down to brush his lips against Steve's. This kiss is softer than their first one, comforting rather than sexual. Steve closes his eyes and lets his other senses take over: the touch, taste and scent of Danny calms his mind.

When he opens them again, he's looking straight into Danny's eyes. They're red-rimmed and tinged with sadness. But there's a hint of mischief peeking through that sets warning bells off in Steve's head.

Leaning back, Danny studies him for a moment, his eyes tracking every inch of Steve's face. "No strenuous exercise, huh?" he asks, his voice still husky. "So, uh, what does this mean for us?"

"Us? What?" Danny wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Steve's sluggish brain catches on. "No! Its fine…no, I mean it's good. I mean I'm good."

"Its fine?"

"You know what I mean."

"You're good?"

"Danny!"

"How good?"

Steve pulls back his shoulders, determined to keep some of his dignity intact. "I'm excellent."

"Really?"

"Really." Steve knows he's pouting but he doesn't care. Danny's wearing a big grin, his eyes full of warm affection. Steve's mentally taking notes, determined to learn how to make Danny feel like that again.

"You're a goof, babe. That's what you are." Danny plants a kiss on his lips before pushing himself to his feet. "Sleep. Eat. Repeat. That's all you're going to be doing for the next few days. After that you can show me just how excellent you are with that body of yours."

Spoilsport, Steve wants to say but he knows Danny's right. Exhaustion mixed with medication is never a good combination: he's barely able to stay awake, let alone think about having sex. His eyelids feel like they've got lead weights on them so he lets them slide closed.

When he wakes up again the first thing Steve's aware of is warmth. There's a blanket draped over his legs. In the corner he can hear Max snoring. The best thing though is the sleeping body tucked up next to his on the couch. Danny's head is resting on his shoulder, wisps of blond hair tickling Steve's chin. Danny's arm is stretched across his belly, his hand curled around Steve's hip.

Steve's pretty sure he is wearing a goofy smile right now. It's kind of possessive, the way Danny's claimed his space. Unable to resist touching he strokes his thumb across Danny's cheek. His breath catches as Danny shuffles, turning further into him. Steve feels cared for and safe and he has no idea how that's happened so fast.

But damn it, he loves it.

He loves Danny Williams.

H50H50H50H50

Danny's not sure how his Sunday mornings ended up like this but it's not like he's complaining.

He loves spending time on the beach.

Danny wriggles his toes, stretching his legs out on the beach towel he's sitting on. Their beach kit includes an umbrella so he puts it up, laughing as Max flops down beside him. The puppy (as Grace still likes to call him) seems to have adopted him. Danny thinks that's only fair. After all, Danny has adopted Max's owner.

Slipping on his shades, Danny opens his book and starts reading. The first time Steve had suggested coming to the beach so early Danny had told him he was insane. But Steve had given him the puppy eyes, the one's Danny's discovered he's defenceless against. So this is where they go now, every Sunday.

The early morning temperature is perfect; just right for him. Not many people are out and those that are keep to their own space. Grace has been learning to surf – she's even got her own little board, now. Max loves to frolic in the waves, sniffing seaweed and playing fetch until he's happily exhausted. The beach is also where Danny had seen Steve bare-chested in public for the first time – Danny has very fond memories of this place.

Looking over the top of his shades Danny can see Steve and Grace coming out of the water. Gracie is pinned under Steve's arm; he's carrying her like a parcel. She's squealing loud enough to get Max's attention but it says something about the way the puppy's adapted to his new family life that he just flicks an ear and huffs.

Danny sits back to soak in the scene. Steve's not wearing his rashguard, it's next to Danny on the beach towel. The scarring on his torso that he's always so self-conscious of is more noticeable now that it's wet. All Danny can think is how beautiful Steve is – and the more he knows about Steve the more that feeling grows.

Steve swings Grace upwards, tickling her one last time before hooking her on his hip. Danny knows he's a total sucker but the sight sends a shiver of want across his skin. It's not just how protective Steve behaves around his daughter; it's the contrasts that turn Danny on.

The night before, he'd had Steve face down in their bed, naked. Steve's scarred skin is surprisingly sensitive when it's kissed. Watching him squirm against the sensation, how his fingers curl into the pillows, it's always a huge turn-on. The first time Danny had lavished Steve's back with love and affection he had thought Steve was going to bolt.

It's amazing how much his life has changed in six months.

"Danno! Danno, did you see? Steve said I was swimming like a fish!"

Danny gives himself a mental shake. Grace's dropped down on the towel in front of him, an excited grin on her face. He shouldn't be thinking about how salty Steve's skin would taste right now.

Steve's pulling on his rashguard, smirking at Danny as he flattens his hair with his hand. Danny silently promises retribution later but settles for slapping him on the leg.

"You did good, Monkey." Danny pulls her over, plants a kiss on her head. The 'ewww' noise she makes fills him with warm affection; he's still smiling as Steve whistles for Max's attention and the two of them lope off to buy breakfast.

Grace scoots up to tuck herself against his chest and Danny pulls her in close. She's growing up fast but he still loves these moments; it's like having his baby girl again. By the time Steve reappears with breakfast they're snuggled up together. Danny doesn't miss the soft smile on Steve's face.

Steve looks confused as Danny reaches out to drag him in to sit beside him. It's Grace who takes over, arranging the men in her life into a tight huddle so that she's being cuddled equally. Grace solemnly serves them food, Max sitting at her feet and drooling hopefully – they're still besotted with each other. It's true puppy love.

Life couldn't get any better, Danny thinks, as Steve's hand slips into his own.

It really couldn't.

THE END (unless you want to see the artwork and meet Max: at Archive of our Own website /works/10621302 )