I'm cleaning out the vault. This story has languished in my files for years. It's not polished, and it's not very long. I hope you enjoy it.

"Steve."

The name came out small. Like a pebble he'd held in his hand for a long time. Smoothing it between his fingers, polishing the rough edges. His treasure alone.

Danny didn't get an answer so he tried more words.

"Hey. Please. Tell me you're alright."

He knew was babbling but he couldn't help it.

Kneeling on the concrete, he closed his eyes into a relieved sigh after watching the slow rise and fall of his partner's chest for a few beats. Steve was alive.

He was afraid to touch him. Danny knew he might end up on his back if Steve perceived a threat in this altered state. So he waited.

"Babe. It's Danny."

A groan and then the usual lie. "I'm fine."

Danny chuckled. That response wasn't meant to be answered. It was SOP for them.

Steve opened his eyes and winced.

"I bet that hurts." Danny deadpanned. "Hell, I bet everything hurts. I hurt just looking at you."

Steve grunted, baring his bloody teeth. "Help me up."

"Sure. Anything."

He could tell by the gruff voice that Steve was putting on a huge act. Throwing up walls that cut off any shared air between them. He knew how hard it was for his best friend to let him in.

Danny glanced at Lee Campbell, impaled and dead, too close to his partner. He knew right away. Steve had watched the man die. Had it been justice for their crimes? Robbing the banks. Killing the old man. Violating their oath. Making their own rules. No matter the transgression, Steve would not take this lightly.

Normally, Danny would be pissed as shit. At his partner. Their job. The bad guys. The world. Not this time.

Surprised, Danny found he was numb.

Steve was pretty fucked up. By the looks of him, there'd been quite a fight. Danny couldn't even begin to fill in the details. It hurt too much to think about anything other than getting his friend out of there. Because this shit was beyond ridiculous.

He took most of Steve's weight. Feeling the heat radiating from his body. His racing heart and unsteady stance. He smelled his sweat and - Danny smelled fear there too. Desperation.

This had been epic battle. One Steve could very well have lost. Danny bit his lip to keep from crying. The rush of emotion was intense.

Steve had met his match. Without backup. Maybe missing a step or two. Danny knew he'd been hiding an injury from the shot he'd taken to the vest. The normally uninhibited Steve hadn't whipped his shirt off in front of him to change his shirt.

Well he couldn't take it. Not today. So he helped Steve to the EMTs and waited patiently to make sure his partner was alright. If alright meant bloody and bruised. And stubborn as hell, and in denial so deep it was gonna drown both of them.

He made sure Lou would take Steve home. Babysit him a little.

Then Danny left to take care of something he could fix.

He could reason with a bank, help the widow keep her home. She was innocent in all of this. Steve on the other hand - no way.

A terrible thought popped into his brain.

Steve was hitting bottom.

He'd been winded and just a hair off normal speed at Rider's place. The bullet extraction was all an act. A tough guy thing. A distraction.

A smoke screen meant to mask the hard truth.

The liver transplant had affected Steve more than he'd ever let on. Danny knew Steve might hide it from him more than anyone. He didn't like to worry him.

Yet something else was going on, too. He could feel it. He hoped his best friend would share it with him before it was too late. Because Danny was worried. More than ever.

Steve was hiding something from him. And to be honest, that was okay. It was normal. A Steve without locked compartments wasn't Steve. Danny knew this deep down, no matter how much it hurt some days.

Steve was a puzzle he'd never solve.

And the worry that kept Danny awake at night was simply part of the deal. Because you did that for friends and family. You kept the door open and the lights on. No matter how much they broke your heart.

As long as they let you break theirs, too.

Until next time...