First of all, THANK YOU so much to all of you who left a review for the last chapter or on Bleeding Out! I knew that I was going to get a mixed response to the last story, but even those of you who preferred the happier ending left great reviews and I really appreciate the feedback!

I also want to thank all the guest reviewers! I wish that I could answer each of you individually, but without that I'm option, I guess I'm just stuck replying here. So thank you all so much for reviewing and leaving me your thoughts!

To the guest that inquired about doing a torture story-I hadn't planned on doing one necessarily in this collection, but there are a few songs near the end that I haven't finished writing yet and haven't completely decided what they're going to center around, so it's a possibility if there's interest from the collective. I do recommend you head over to my page and read Enough, which might satisfy you for a while! :)

And with that, onwards! This one is a bit shorter but definitely lighter than the last one, so hopefully it'll soothe all of your frazzled nerves from the last go round!

"Hey, that sounds like my luck,

I get the short end of it.

Oh I love to be, I love to be the underdog."

"Clear!"

Steve's shout came from the other side of the house, and Danny lowered his gun cautiously, feeling like there was still someone in the house with them even though it had apparently been deemed safe by a man he trusted implicitly.

But there was something, something in the back of his mind that was keeping him on edge, making him supremely unsure of his physical safety that made him keep his hand on his gun just in case, finger on the trigger. So when something moved silently into his peripheral vision, everything darkened, and he brought up his gun without thinking and fired off a shot.

There was a yelp that sounded a might too familiar and then "What the fuck, Danny?"

Instantly his vision cleared and he was met with the sight of his partner holding his arm, blood running through his fingers. Of course, Danny hadn't hit his vest—he'd been aiming to stop, not kill, after all—and instead had struck the meat of his best friend's bicep. Or perhaps former best friend, if the way McGarrett was glaring at him was any indication of things to come.

Unable to meet his partner's gaze, Danny picked a spot on the floor, trying to ignore the immense guilt washing over him, and started studying it with all his attention. "Sorry?"

"Sorry—that's all you have to say? You just shot me!"

"I thought you were a suspect, okay? I'm sorry!"

"A susp—Danny, we just cleared the house! Why the fuck would you think I was a suspect?"

Danny knew that his words were going to sound ridiculous before he even said them, but pushed forward anyway. "You sounded like you were on the other side of the house, and then I saw someone moving in stealthily and I just reacted, okay? It was an accident!" He finally looked up to meet McGarrett's eye, only to see the other man close his eyes and mutter something under his breath. "What was that?"

Dark blue eyes flashed open to meet his own. "I said it's just my luck that this would happen. It's always my luck." Danny was about to comment on McGarrett's finally recognizing his trouble-magnet status, but then his partner kept going. "This is going to put a cramp in surfing with Grace tomorrow, you know that, right?"

Danny cringed slightly at the impending disappointment for both his daughter and her adopted uncle, and offered cautiously, "You're telling me you can't surf with a hole in your arm?"

That only earned him a glare and a reply through gritted teeth. "You're the one that can say that to the doctor when he stitches me up."

"One day we're going to laugh about this, you know," Danny said, in one more effort to help the situation.

"Not today," Steve replied tightly, and for the first time Danny heard the underlying tone of pain in his friend's voice.

"Seriously, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

Steve's eyes met his own again briefly before they slid closed, presumably out of pain. "I've been better." He shrugged, and then winced as if he regretted the action, but nonetheless pulled his arm around to look. "It's a through-and-through," he said matter-of-factly, "but the way that it's bleeding means you may have hit a small artery." He went to rub his hand over his face, but stopped as he realized it was covered in blood, and Danny felt a new wave of guilt come over him. "I have an aid kit in the car—can you get it?"

"Yeah, I'll be right back." Danny started forward, then stopped and turned back. "I'm really sorry, Steve. You didn't need this. I was an idiot."

There was a half shrug again, and then Danny was rewarded with a small, very weary uptick of his partner's lips. "I'll live. It's a pain in the ass, sure, but it's definitely not the worst I've ever had."

Danny's stomach turned over once more with remorse, but he just nodded and moved out of the house to the car to get the requested aid kit. The self-recrimination started hitting even more as he realized that this was going to be the first time the three of them had planned to go surfing since McGarrett's whole ordeal with Wo Fat, since his own ordeal in Columbia; all of their collective broken ribs had finally healed, and he knew how much his partner had been looking forward to this outing. So Danny came back into the house with an apology on his lips, which died suddenly and quickly as he realized that McGarrett was engaged in a standoff with the suspect they had been looking for—a suspect that abruptly decided Danny would make excellent leverage.

Before the Jersey detective could move or even react in any way, the man had his arm wrapped around Danny's throat and a gun at his head. Danny's sputtering was cut off immediately as the arm around his neck tightened its hold. "You better let me go, pig, or I'm going to put a nice, new hole in your friend's head here. Got it?"

McGarrett's eyes were steely as he studied the suspect over the barrel of his gun. "You know that's not going to happen. Put the gun down now." The slow plop of Steve's blood hitting the floor was the only sound for a moment before Steve continued. "Besides, where are you going to go? Back in your little hidey-hole?" For the first time, Danny noticed the previously hidden trap door that had been flung open a few feet away, and felt a surge of vindication as he realized that there had been a suspect in the house after all.

The I-told-you-so feeling was fleeting though as the arm pressed down on this throat just a little more. "I'll just shoot this guy and then I'll shoot you. Or run, 'cause you don't look like you're really in the shape to come after me."

The scarily focused gaze remained on the man, but a self-assured grin graced McGarrett's face. "I'm a Navy SEAL. You really want to take that bet? Put down the gun."

The man hesitated for a moment before he moved to point his gun at Steve, arm still cutting off Danny's voice. "I'm thinking you don't look so tough right now, soldier or not."

Sailor, Danny corrected in his head, and if it hadn't been for the offending appendage covering his throat, he would have corrected the suspect's description of McGarrett for McGarrett's sake; but as it was he could do nothing but watch as a feral look took up residence on his partner's face. "I'm giving you two seconds to put down the pun and release my partner, or you're going to wish you hadn't underestimated me."

The suspect wavered for a moment, but instead of lowering his weapon, the man chose to push Danny forward suddenly, sending him stumbling into the floor, and take off running out the door behind them. Steve spared a second to make sure Danny was okay before he took off in pursuit.

Danny wasn't injured, only stunned, and so, after regaining his composure, got up and ran after the other two, coming outside just in time to see McGarrett tackle the man the ground, pulling the man's hands behind his back to be cuffed only a little more forceful than necessary. Right before hauling the criminal upright, Steve leaned down and whispered something in the man's ear, his tone clearly menacing as the man flinched away from him slightly. The SEAL pulled the man to his feet then, swaying only slightly, and shoved him in Danny's direction, indicating that the Jersey detective should handle him until further notice.

After securing the man, Danny walked back to his partner, forgotten aid pack in his hand once more. "You might want this, babe. You're bleeding like crazy." Steve shot him a look, clearly indicating something along the lines of And who's fault is that? but took the offered gauze nonetheless. "So what did you say to him anyway?"

"Oh you know, just reminded him not to underestimate us SEALS. That we're the best when someone thinks we're underdogs. Just a friendly reminder for the future."

"Didn't seem that friendly to me."

"Watch it, Williams. It's your fault that I'm leaking like a sieve over here, so unless you want to be on the same end of that friendly reminder just shut up." McGarrett's tone was light, though, and Danny knew that at least for the moment he had been forgiven. He knew he was forgiven for sure when Steve, one hand still cupped around his arm applying pressure, nodded towards Danny's throat. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. And seriously, I'm sorry about, you know, shooting you."

"Oh I know. But not as sorry as you're going to be when you have to explain to Grace why we can't go out tomorrow because you shot her favorite uncle!"

We'll get back to some more angsty Steve next week!

Charlotte