Author's note:- Still being plagued by health problems and anything else life can throw at me- I'm grateful to anyone who's hanging in there with me it gives me the impetous to get things finished even if it takes more time than it should- Let me know what you think- J

Chapter 10

Danny's second return to consciousness was less violent but just as disturbing as his first. His conscious mind resurfaced part way through a reliving of the torture of the last few hours. Mumbled, half formed pleas for it to stop that he hadn't uttered at the time because he wouldn't give his torturer the satisfaction, now escaped from dry lips as he struggled listlessly against invisible bonds. He had no strength left either mentally or physically to fight and he might have just drifted back under, but like Steve earlier there was an intangible something that forced his mind to fight. There was something that he needed to do, someone that he needed to help and the fact that he wasn't yet aware enough to know who or what, didn't reduce the strength of the sensation. So he fought his way through the mire of terrible memories, of unpleasant sensation, of pain and blinked open eyes to blurry vision, everything tumbling back into some semblance of order as reality settled around him, every bit as awful as the nightmare that gave way to it.

He knew that he was alone, no help yet, no good drugs to dull the many different manifestations of pain that screamed at his brain for attention, which meant that Steve hadn't managed to get them any help yet. So how long had it been? How long had he been out for? Where was Steve? Why hadn't he come back yet?

These were questions that Danny had no way of answering and yet the answers were monumentally important. If it had only been moments since Steve had left then there was no need for the growing anxiety, the fear for his friend that was twisting uncomfortably in his gut, and that was all he needed, another source of pain. Still if all was well, relatively speaking, then all he had to do was wait and Steve would be back with help and everything would be fine.

No, not fine, because Steve was so far from fine that he couldn't even put it into words, the uncomfortable churning in his gut wasn't just because something else could happen; it was for what had already happened. That look on Steve's face, his eyes . . . He was. . . .

It suddenly didn't matter to Danny how long his partner had been out of his sight, because every second was a second too long. Every second there was a chance that Steve would lose his grip on reality again, would go back to that place he had been the last time Danny had surfaced to consciousness, a place that they may not be able to get him back from, and that scared Danny more than his own impending death had. Losing his life he could handle, had accepted long ago as a risk that came with the job, but there were things worse than death and watching Steve lose his mind would be one of them.

So Danny had to stop that happening, had to do something to mitigate the mental torture that he had, however unwillingly, been a part of. He didn't know how yet. He just knew that he had to do it. His own pain be damned, because he knew it had to be him.

Danny had a nagging certainty that what had been done to Steve, that what he had helped to do to Steve. . . dammit he had been a pivotal part of the effect it had had on his friend. He knew that with certainty because he knew how he would react if the situations were reversed if Steve had been kidnapped, missing, tortured, if he'd thought Steve had been killed. He was fairly sure he would be close to losing it and that was without the trauma of losing his father, of being dragged back to that day of repeating. . . Steve needed him, needed to know that Danny hadn't died. Steve needed. . .

Danny used the strong emotion to motivate movement, because really all he wanted to do was lie very still and drift back into pain free oblivion. He tried to take it slowly, but each minute movement was so painful that in the end he decided to go for the sitting up equivalent of ripping a plaster off, swinging his legs round onto the floor and using the momentum to pull his upper body up, and then he waited, waited for the room to stop spinning, for the stabbing, screaming pains to settle back to a point where his brain could form coherent thought, and for the nausea to stop threatening to make him heave up the nonexistent contents of his stomach. For once he was grateful that his captors hadn't thought to feed him or give him water in the time that they had held him.

Finally he opened eyes that he hadn't realized he'd closed and drew in a cautious deep breath. So far so good, he was now sitting instead of lying on Steve's couch. Yay for small victories! Now all he had to do was get to his feet, a task that last time he'd tried, even with Steve's help, had caused him to pass out. Then make his way out of the house, find Steve, talk his partner and friend out of a nervous breakdown that he was already well into the middle of and get them both to a hospital because Steve was bleeding and he was. . . Danny would have laughed except that would hurt too much because the only other option was to cry and there was no way that he. . .

He had to get to his feet, moving his hand protectively across his stomach he began to inch his way to the edge of the seat. That was when he heard the noise. It was at the front door and it was enough to put him on high alert, adrenaline flooding his overtaxed system as he followed his instincts and looked for a weapon to protect himself, because this could be help. But really with the luck he'd been having in the last twenty four hours it could equally be another threat. His eyes were drawn to the gun that Steve had put down on the ground when he'd knelt next to him, which meant it was back by the chair that Danny had been tied to, a scant six feet away but the state Danny was in it might as well have been a mile. Still there was no way Danny was going down without some sort of fight.

He pushed to his feet and moved across the room one arm remaining protectively across his middle the other almost touching the floor because he didn't even try to straighten up, his movement wasn't elegant or smooth but it had the desired effect of getting him to the weapon. He dropped back against the wall still not fully standing and raised the gun just as the door was pushed open. There was a tense moment as Danny almost responded automatically to the drawn weapon which was the first thing that registered; his finger tightening on the trigger as the rest of his mind caught up ."Chin," the name was uttered with relief but it still took a moment for him to gain enough control to lower the weapon.

Chin's own expression was at war between relief, shock and concern and he took his own moment to compose himself before dropping and holstering his weapon and moving toward the barely standing bloody mess that was his teammate. "Danny, what . . .?"

He didn't have time to finish the question before another noise drew Danny's attention. Chin watched as Danny reacted with more fear than he'd ever seen from the younger man, raising his weapon and aiming it at the doors to the lanai. His gun was leveled at Kono as she entered and again it took him way too long to register that it was friend not foe, fear and pain not fully retreating from his features even as he recognized her.

She did a quick but graceful sweep of the room and then lowered her own weapon as she turned and saw them. A shocked "Danny," escaped from her lips, somewhere between a question and a gasp as she took in his appearance and moved quickly to join Chin at his side.

Chin barely glanced at her, catching her eye just long enough for an exchange of pained concern before focusing back on Danny. He reached forward and gently removed the gun from Danny's shaky grip. "Why don't I take that," he said softly and Danny turned his eyes to stare into his, giving a slight nod as the weapon was removed. He didn't need it. He was safe now the rest of the team were here- safe. He could let them. . . He felt himself slowly beginning to slide down the wall as the adrenaline that had allowed him to move at all ebbed, soft pressure from hands that gripped his arms and shoulders helped to control his descent until he was sitting.

Chin and Kono did their best to help Danny supporting him until he was seated against the wall, both of them doing their own visual assessment of his injuries. Worried by the cut on his temple and the blood matted in his hair, the already black and purple bruising on his torso that could be clearly seen through his ripped shirt, the evidence of cuts and burns, the weakness, the shaking, the dazed expression, all spoke of trauma and pain and would be difficult enough to see on a stranger but this was Danny, one of them, their friend. This shouldn't happen to anyone but most of all things like this shouldn't happen to Danny. It was hard to focus on anything but cataloguing his injuries.

"Danny," Chin's voice was still soft and he was proud that he managed to speak at all without his voice wavering. "Can you tell us what happened?" When there was no immediate response he tried again with "Danny?"

Danny seemed to give himself a small shake, before making eye contact, the world was drifting in and out again as a part of him stopped fighting because he didn't need to any more; because Chin and Kono were here and that meant help so he didn't need. . . His brow furrowed in a small frown. No there was Something. . .Someone. . . He had to. . .

Kono leaned back a little allowing Chin to take the lead in caring for Danny, in assessing just how serious things were. She pulled out her cell ready to call for help, they needed paramedics, HPD to secure the scene and. . .

"Steve?" Danny asked

Kono stopped mid-action, Chin was already watching Danny closely.

"Where is Steve?" Danny asked plaintively.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .