"Please, have a seat," Dr. Ma said, gesturing to two pea soup-green chairs opposite a very cluttered, disorganized desk. He rounded behind it and made to sit down, but noted Steve hadn't done the same.

Steve couldn't sit. He had to be ready to spring into action at a moment's notice because…because what? Because he'd somehow be able to run out, find Danny, and save him if this doctor tried to tell him there was no saving him?

It was foolish. Steve knew this. He didn't care. He would stand.

Dr. Ma seemed to understand the unspoken conflict in the man before him, nodded once, and remained upright as well. "Lieutenant Commander McGarrett, your friend took a bad blow to the head."

Steve swallowed, folded his arms over his chest, muscles flexing as his hands clenched and unclenched beneath his armpits.

"Detective Williams had a seizure shortly after the trauma nurse had taken his vitals."

Steve went rigid.

"He's having a CT scan as we speak, then we'll do a three-sixty skull X-ray. I have to be honest here, I'm suspecting some form of traumatic brain injury. Whether we're talking a hematoma in the many forms that can take, a skull fracture or damage to some other portion of his brain is up in the air until I see those scans."

Steve wasn't breathing.

"I need to ensure you understand my meaning here, Lieutenant Commander. The fact that he experienced what would equate to a grand mal seizure on the table, and has been unconscious for an unknown period of time, combined with his pupils being fixed but different sizes from each other, his breathing difficulty, pallor and weak pulse indicate the extent of his injuries may be severe."

Steve swallowed, but he had no spit there to swallow. He remembered to inhale, so violently it almost sounded like a gasp. His fists were balled so tight he could feel his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands.

"Are we talking severe in that he'll come out of this with some sort of…disability?" he asked quietly. "Or severe in that he won't come out…" His voice trailed off. He just couldn't ask.

Won't come out of it at all… echoed through his mind.

"I might be able to answer that once I see the scans, but even then the brain is a funny thing. For all we know about it, there's more we don't know, and how Detective Williams reacts to whatever the injury is, is completely individual to him. What sends one person into a coma they never wake from could do nothing more to another patient than cause them to become dyslexic or suddenly be able to speak another language they've never before heard. I wanted to prepare you, and will be keeping you apprised every step of the way, as per the detective's wishes."

Steve couldn't help but let a wan smile grace his features. "He was that specific in his instructions, huh?"

The doctor smiled in return. "I've never seen anything like it. He didn't want anyone worrying too much, and presumably guessed you would handle the interface with others once you had the facts." Ma shrugged. "We know you here at Kings, we know all of you, and given what that young man's made it through in the short time Five-0's existed, I can't help but respect his wishes to the letter."

What that young man's made it through in the short time Five-0's existed…

And it was Steve's fault. All of it.

Whether it was, in reality, was irrelevant. Steve knew no other way than taking the weight of the world on his shoulders. Whether it was his mother's and father's murders or the kidnapping of Danny's daughter – something that had nothing at all to do with him in any way. From the men he'd once commanded in the Navy to the task force he now was in charge of, and every person who'd ever followed his orders, Steve needed the responsibility of taking everything onto himself. It was in his genes. In his blood. It was him.

In this case, Danny had fallen down the stairs. Steve hadn't been there; he wouldn't have had any reason to be there even if he hadn't been gone to training for a week. Danny'd gone grocery shopping, he was coming home, he was going to prepare for picking up Grace tonight—

Steve's eyes widened. He looked at his watch and they widened even more.

Grace. Danny was supposed to pick her up from school at three fifteen.

It was two fifty-two.

"When will you know more about Danny's condition?" Steve asked.

Dr. Ma held his hands in the air in an I-don't-know-for-sure gesture. "As soon as I get a look at the scans, and I have a brain surgeon on his way from the North Shore. He's the best in the islands, Dr. Noshimuri."

Steve stared at Ma. "Doctor what?"

"Alan Noshimuri, Mr. McGarrett. He's been practicing on Oahu for two years, and is very good. What's the matter?"

It couldn't be.

There couldn't be another man related to…to…

And working on Danny?

"I need to go pick Danny's daughter up," Steve said abruptly. "You have my cell phone number."

"Yes," Ma replied, looking at him very strangely.

"Call me the second you know anything," Steve ordered and yes, it came out like a command, not a request.

"I will, Lieutenant Commander, I will," the doctor replied. He followed Steve out the door and watched him stalk away. Some part of him hoped he'd have really good news to share with the man in an hour's time because he was a little frightened of what the consequences might be if he didn't. The other half of him knew from having seen McGarrett and the others in their ER before, that Steve wouldn't hurt a fly where the health and well-being of his team was concerned. He would, however, go to the ends of the Earth to make sure they got the proper care.

Ma sighed. All any of them could do right now was hope.

Danny, Danny was floating. Flying. He wasn't sure which, but it was good. It was all good.

There were clouds. There was a sky, it was blue. There was the sun, it was warm but not so hot like the Hawaiin sun.

Oh! He must be back in Jersey! Home at last, home where he belonged.

It felt good. So good, and then he saw his daughter. She was flying, too! They must all be able to fly, he thought, it must be a Williams gene. Of course it was, Williams' are special people, after all.

Grace joined him, reached out to take his hand, and he was smiling, beaming, he could feel it cover his face and so, so happy. So happy.

Then her face crumpled.

Her eyes filled with tears as she was jerked away from him, like someone had physically pulled her hand from his before they'd even touched. Her arms were outstretched, the big, huge tears rolled down her cheeks unbidden.

Why was she sad, why was she crying? Why wouldn't they let her come to him, he needs his baby girl, he wants her, he wants to hug her, chase those tears away, why are there tears? Who's doing this? Why was she so sad, so sad?

Then he saw his partner, saw him bend down to one knee, saw him open his arms, saw Grace launch herself into them, wrap her arms around his neck. Saw him stand up holding onto his daughter.

His daughter, she's Danny's, she's not Steve's, why was Steve comforting her and not Danny? She's…she's Danny's.

Her face was buried in Steve's shoulder, her body shaking, and Steve turned just enough that Danny could see his face, and…

Steve was…crying.

A blinding flash of pain and they were gone, and Danny didn't see anymore.