Thank you so much for the kind reviews! They have been so encouraging!

As always, the regular disclaimer applies: All recognizable characters are not my own.

Danny tapped on the hospital room door lightly before pushing it open.

He knew Steve would look bad, but he hadn't quite prepared himself for just how bad and it caused him to stop in the doorway. Steve was pale and sweating, with colorful bruises decorating most of the skin Danny could see. His eyes were glassy and tired, showing the weariness he felt. His left arm was in a sling held close to his body, and his right leg was elevated under the sheet to help with swelling.

"Hey, babe," Danny said softly, shaking himself into action.

Steve looked toward the door warily, then turned his head into the pillow and closed his eyes.

Callie stood up and motioned for Danny to take the chair by the bed. She gave him a tired smile. As she hugged him, she whispered, "He needs you, Danno."

Danny nodded. "You go get something to eat or drink. I'll work on sorting our boy out." Callie squeezed his arm and took her leave.

He pulled the chair as close to the bed as he could. "Ah, hell, babe. They did a number on you, didn't they?"

He didn't get a response, but he hadn't expected one. This was not the kind of experience you bounced back from quickly, even in perfect health. He understood why Steve wasn't talking. He didn't know the specifics, not yet, but he could put enough of the pieces together to get a fairly good picture of what had probably happened, and the picture was ugly. Steve needed love, support, and reassurance by the ton, and Danny was the person—well, one of the people—for the job. He sat in the chair and watched his friend. How had this happened to Steve again? How could such a good man always end up in such terrible situations? Danny felt like God or the universe or mankind or somebody owed Steve a break. A long break filled with nothing but good things because if anybody deserved it, it was Steve.

Danny knew his partner was a different breed. Steve was perfectly willing, at any point in time, to give up his life for someone else. He didn't have to love or even know that person—just that they existed was enough for him. He had proved it over and over again, and, now, with the girl from the village and Elisabeth, it was evident again. Sometimes that kind of selflessness in his partner infuriated Danny. Why couldn't Steve see how important he was, how wrecked so many people would be if he died during one of these selfless missions? Danny didn't know how to get that through his partner's thick skull. And it wasn't just about serious life-or-death things. No, it went as far as he would work himself into the ground so the rest of them could leave at five to go be with their families. He would work all the holidays so, again, the rest of them could be off. Watching his partner sleep restlessly, Danny prayed Callie could cause him to see reason this holiday season. Maybe she could convince him that he deserved to have time off, too.

But, Danny thought, Steve would be off this year for the holidays, wouldn't he? Thanksgiving was next week, and Danny doubted Steve would even be out of the hospital by Christmas.

"Damn it," he cursed in a whisper, tears stinging his eyes. "That's not what I meant by taking time off, babe. I hate this. I hate seeing you sick and hurt. You don't deserve a minute of this, Steven, and, I swear, after we get you through this I'm going to wrap you in bubble wrap and never let you out of my sight again."

Steve coughed weakly, wrapping his right arm around his broken ribs. He groaned. Danny had been lost in his own thoughts, but immediately snapped to attention at the noise. He glanced at the heart monitor as the beeping quickened.

"Hurting?" Danny asked, laying a hand gently on top of Steve's head.

Steve opened his eyes briefly, and the pain there shook Danny. "Mm," Steve hummed in affirmation.

"I'll call for the nurse."

"Don't…bother," Steve whispered hoarsely, finally speaking. "Can't have…anymore…now. Con-," he grimaced and made a whining sound before going on, "Concussion….and meds slow….my breathing. Doctor said…no…more…now."

"So you just have to deal with the pain?"

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. "Mm-hm."

Danny swung his gaze to Scott, who had been sitting in the corner. Scott was standing now that Steve was showing obvious signs of pain, frowning and clenching his fists at his side. "Is that true?"

Danny hated that he was having to turn to someone else for information about his partner, information that he should have heard straight from the doctor himself. The SEALs, in typical SEAL fashion, had swooped in once they had arrived at the hospital, insisting that one of them would always be present for as long as Steve was in the hospital. Somehow Scott and Jack had even forced their way into the ER along with Jacks when Steve first arrived. Danny had stood in the hallway outside the treatment room while Steve's condition was assessed. The tiny room was crowded with both bodies (well-built SEALs) and big personalities and attitudes (the SecNav, SEALs, and multiple doctors), and Danny thought it best if he just stayed out of the mix for the moment.

"Frustratingly enough, yeah," Scott confirmed. "To be fair to the docs, he's got a lot of morphine on board right now. It just isn't touching the amount of pain he's dealing with. He needs—"

"—Dilaudid," Danny said as Scott said the same thing.

Scott grinned. "You know him well."

Scott moved to the edge of the bed, grabbing Steve's wrist and pushing on his good shoulder, grounding him. "Hey," he said with more compassion than Danny had ever thought possible from the strong, tough man. "Breathe. Open those eyes, buddy, and look at me." It took a minute, but Steve obeyed. "Alright," Scott smiled. "There you are. Now, breathe through it." Steve's heart rate and respiration only quickened. "Uh-huh, uh-huh, no, no, no. You've got to calm down. You're going to hyperventilate. I know it's bad, I know it hurts, and I know you want to cuss me for even acting like I know how bad, but you're spiraling, buddy. You keep your eyes open and on me. Danny, move over here." Danny moved to the same side of the bed as Scott. "Look, Dog, Danny's here too. You keep your eyes on us, alright? Breathe with me. In 1-2-3-4; hold 1-2-3-4; out 1-2-3-4. You're one of the best at this, Steve. Use it to get through this. Do it again." He watched Steve's breathing and checked the monitor to see that his heart rate was coming down. "That's it, buddy. That's it. You're alright…" He dropped his voice volume even lower. "You're past it now. Just rest."

"Breathing techniques?" Danny asked.

"Yeah. Have you never noticed him doing it before? It's called combat or tactical breathing. He's really good at it, and meditation too. Had to be, being a sniper. I've seen him settle down, get into position, and not move for hours. His life, our lives, depended on him not moving, and—even though he has all this crazy energy—he could focus, meditate, and do it. That's what he's doing right now. I just had to remind him to do it."

"That's…impressive. And, yeah, I've seen him go still like that before, but I never asked him about it. I figured it was something like that."

Scott chuckled and shook his head. "Gosh, his energy. Like the damn Energizer bunny, you know?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it." He laughed.

Scott turned serious. "Look, I know it probably seems like we just came in and took over everything. And, well…I guess we did. I'm sorry for that. It's a team thing, I guess—that man right there is my CO, but he's also one of my very best friends…my brother, you know? And you don't leave a man behind, even after you get back. That's the way we operate. One of us will always be in this room. We're here for whatever he needs—or whatever Callie needs, or you and your team need…We'll be here, without question, for as long as it takes him to get back on his feet."

Danny understood where Scott was coming from, and realized that Scott, and the rest of the SEALs, were just doing what they knew and had the very best intentions. Danny immediately felt better. His hackles, admittedly, had been up but the conversation had soothed his annoyance.

"Or until he gets pissy about you being here." Danny grinned.

Scott snorted. "That'll happen probably sooner rather than later, no doubt. It's alright though. We've all seen him pissed off before. And he knows how it goes. No matter how bad his attitude is, we're not going anywhere."

Danny nodded, understanding. "Alright then. He's got a bunch of people in his corner. And I'm pretty sure he's going to need every one of us."

Scott shook his head sadly. "Man, it breaks my heart, but I think you're right."