AN - Hi everyone, sorry about the delay between this chapter and the last my weekend was mad crazy busy and today I finally got a chance to get on the computer. Hopefully this chapter's worth the wait though. Warning - some heavy Danny centric angst here.

"Danny, we've found Steve!" The sound of Chin's voice as it rang through the hallways was glorious music to Danny's ears, and he followed the sound of that voice down a darkened hallway where yellow light pooled outside from the room at the very end.

Swallowing back his nervousness, he ran through the open doorway to enter a very bare looking office. Except for the pot plant in the corner and the rickety desk and chair to his right, the office was empty. The nighttime breeze caused the curtains to flutter, parting just enough for Danny to see the cracked glass. However he felt his world narrow down to the sight on the floor immediately to his left where Steve was lying spread eagled on the ground as the EMTs fussed over him. Acting on pure instinct, the detective felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest and the air squeezed out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe, nor could he stop the suspicious stinging in his eyes as a soft sob tore out of his throat. He shoved the burly EMTs out of the way to grasp Steve's face between his hands.

"Steve! No…"

On the verge of hyperventilation, the panic quickly gave way to horror as his hands could feel how cold Steve's skin was to the touch. He bent down and placed his ear against the fallen detective's mouth, listening for any sign of breath. There was none, and beside himself with desperation the young detective seized his older friend's shoulders and began to shake the limp body roughly. Biting his lip, the tears trickled down his face as he fought against the pair of hands that had grabbed his shoulders to pull him away from the injured, if not dead, man. Furious, he turned around to glare at the EMT who was trying to drag him away from Steve. "Leave me alone! What is the matter with you?"

"I'm sorry, sir. But he needs to get to hospital right away! His condition is critical and the more we delay medical treatment, the more likely it is that he will die. Please," the EMT begged. "Let us get him to Hospital, you can ride in the wagon with him if you want."

The medical professional's words were like the metaphorical twist of a knife and he tried to get his legs to move. It seemed that basic motor function was beyond him at the moment. His legs felt like lead and he just couldn't move. Horrified, he ground his teeth as he forced himself into a standing position, before stepping aside to allow the EMTs room to bring the stretcher in. Danny watched as the two large men lifted McGarrett up and placed him gently on the stretcher. The young detective tried not to look at Steve's head, which lolled around like a doll's.

He had always thought of Steve as being some impenetrable fortress, a beacon of the resilience of the human spirit, but seeing him here looking so broken and eerily skill really scared him. This was different from all the other times Steve had been injured – the man had still been conscious when that car bomb went off on his 35th Birthday and he had received immediate medical attention after Joyce Bennett had shot him while under the control of that psychology quack. He tried to clear his throat but nothing was going to force the lump of emotion there to go away – there was a very real possibility that Steve could die. The edges of his shirt had long dried from a vivid wet crimson to a flaky dull brown, and he had no idea just what his friend had been injected with. Seeing the man here really brought the message home that he was human too – cut him and he will bleed, beat him and he will feel pain. Do it too often and the body will often give up long before the mind does.

When he lost Jane Steve had been there to help him through the worst of his grief, had watched him go through the seven stages of grief – been there when he worked through his anger before falling far from grace into the clutches of the deepest darkest despair. After that happened he had sworn to himself that he was never going to allow himself to come close to anyone again, because in his line of work it was very possible that harm would befall them, or he just simply wouldn't come home from work one day. Steve had been the one constant in his life. What he had with Steve ran deeper than the most complex of friendships, deeper than the blood bond of brotherhood. Steve had stormed into his life and had uprooted everything and thrown it all to the wind - and he hadn't even realized.

At some stage he began to care for the dark haired man. He wasn't exactly sure It was all a jumble of half-sorted fond memories, and now was he watched the man's hand dangle limply from the side of a stretcher the tightness of his chest became even more painful, such that unconsciously he found himself sinking to his knees as he gave into the overwhelming urge to cry. A howl of raw emotion ripped from his throat as the very essence of his grief echoed around the room. All the officers working there ceased what they were doing to turn around and look at the detective as he buried his head in his hands and his shoulders began to shake. It was not something that men did, but he had never been particularly brave. His heart was a confused muddle of fear and regret and horror and self-blame and hatred and fury and anguish as well as a bone deep sort of weariness that signaled just how tired he was with all of this.

He had learned that friendships could fade just as easily as they were formed, as time forced a wedge between two people who were once inseparable. Kono showed that magnificently, when the Hawaiian detective had to come home to look after his ailing elderly mother. Even when Mrs Kalakaua passed away late last year, the young Hawaiian had been unable to deal with her death, instead choosing to get away from the Islands and all the memories of her. Kono ended up relocating to Miami - the next best thing to Hawaii and joined the PD there. For the first few months Danny would get letters from him, but as time marched on the intervals between the letters increased, until they stopped completely.

One thing that he would always remember was the note of sadness in the other man's words, that sense of wanting to go home, but never being able to. That crushing fear that rendered even the bravest men cowards – the refusal to admit that the most cherished of loved ones were no longer with them on this plane of existence.

He hated how despite his most vehement protest he had gone and done the thing that he had sworn to avoid that day as he stood in front of Jane's grave, when the wind whipped past his hair and he looked on at the tombstone where she would rest peacefully for all eternity. Now as he watched the EMTs carry Steve out of the office, he seriously wondered what he was going to do. He had always counted on the fact that Steve was going to be there to help him get through the darkest of times, when he hit rock bottom. He hated how at some stage he had become so dependent on the injured man, and was so blinded by this sense of belonging that it blinded him to the fact of his own dependence. He was weak man who needed to seek out a larger than life person to make him feel whole on a psychological level at the very least. Now that Steve was most likely dead he was truly alone, and that thought scared him more than he could ever admit.

A gentle hand laid on his shoulder forced him to look up. It was a simple gesture yet one that Steve always made when Danny was distraught or worried, and the act caused one bright bubble of hope to well up, filling him with warmth until he finally saw Chin standing over him, the older detective's concern radiating off of him in waves. "Come on Danny," Chin said in soft, calming tones. "The EMTs are waiting for you."

Danny tried to move, but found himself frozen in place by his very own fear. He didn't want to see the sight of Steve looking so broken like that ever again and the thought of being trapped in a small moving metal box with him was almost too much to bear. Suddenly the room was too small and he couldn't breathe through the tears that caused him to choke. Chin's hand rubbed smooth circles onto his back as the choked gasps melted to become hiccups. "I can't Chin," he admitted in a very small, defeated voice. "I just can't."

"Danny, I know it's very hard," Chin reassured him. "But nothing's impossible. One step at a time, if you please." When the younger man made no move, the older detective sighed. He hated himself for doing this but as Steve's listed Next of Kin Danny had to get on that ambulance. In his twenty years with the Force he had seen grief manifest in different forms, but never anything this extreme. Danny was locked in his anguish and despair, and it was looking increasingly likely that he was going to stay there until someone gave him a really hard kick. Shaking his head, Chin moved to stand up before huffing a breath in disgust. "You can't even get over your own fear to help your friend when he needs it the most! You're more of a coward that I thought Danny Williams, and if Steve were here right now he would be completely ASHAMED to be your friend!"

Chin spun on his heel dramatically and made a move to exit the room, but paused by the doorway when a Danny admitted in a small voice. "I know I am. I've known it for a long time. I don't deserve to have a friend like Steve. I guess I lucked out in that respect."

The older detective fought the instinct to go over there and comfort the younger man because it was likely to do more damage than help things. Danny was beginning to respond, and he was almost over the line. "Pathetic," he spat out, before storming out of the office. He prayed that it was enough, as he disappeared to try and find Duke to ask when Che Fong was going to get here.

Chin's words kept replaying over and over in Danny's mind, until he could feel nails digging into the palm of his hand and looked down, surprised to find that he had balled them into tight fists, which were trembling. His face was wet with tears and he brought a hand to wipe at them. Chin was right - he was truly pathetic. Being like this wasn't going to bring Steve back, nor was it going to help things. If anything, it was going to impede things. By allowing himself to remain stalled in shocked grief, he was endangering Steve as the EMTs were waiting for him. Each second was precious, and here he was being the biggest fool of all time. The emotional ache that threatened to pull him under reared its ugly and ignoble head again, but he fought it and forced himself to his feet. No, Steve didn't deserve to die alone in some cold impersonal room that smelt of sickness and antiseptic. He deserved better than that, and Danny was determined to be there for him, with him, offering him all the comfort he could give and praying for his recovery. Gulping large breaths, he rose unsteadily to his feet and slowly made his way out of the room.

Whatever happened was going to happen but he wasn't going to fail Steve one more time. He was going to be there when things either came around. He owed his friend at least that much. With a steely sense of determination, he headed along the hallway out onto the dance floor, crossing it to exit the building before feeling the floor to his stomach drop. He was too late and the ambulance was gone. There was a huge space where it should have been. He listened for the sounds of sirens but was deeply troubled to hear none.

"No use, bruddah." The familiar voice caused the grieving detective to turn around, and caught sight of Duke approaching him. His arms crossed, the HPD Sergeant looked anything but happy. "They just left. Couldn't wait for you 'cause Steve crashed and they had to get him to the hospital right away." He sighed as Danny looked like he was about to sink down onto his knees again. The annoyance melted away to be replaced with awareness, as he realized that Danny was taking this harder than any of them. He had been very close to their fallen comrade, so it was understandable that he was taking the current situation harder than anyone else. It didn't make things any better, but it made them a lot more understandable. "Come on," he enunciated softly before crossing to the driver's side of his patrol car. "Hop in, I'll drive you there."