I can't express how grateful I am for all your support. The reviews always create a smile on my face. Thanks a lot!

I apologize for the late update - life got in the way. But here it is. Enjoy reading!

Steve tried his hardest to scream, but there was nothing left in his lungs. Danny and Catherine laid in a pool of blood in front of him. Lifeless.

Someone grabbed him from behind and flung him to the ground. His face smashed on the hard concrete floor. A deep gash opened above his left eye. Warm, thick liquid gushed out over his face. They had him pinned to the ground: four men, each forcing their weight on one of his limbs, and a fifth man driving a knee into the small of his back.

He tried again to scream. Tried his best to struggle, to break free. But he didn't have any strength left in him. He could manage nothing more than a pathetic squirm as Esther Bennett, a knife in hand, came into view, a look of quiet satisfaction on her pretty face. Her blood-soaked clothes glowed in the electric light.

"This is it for you, darling," Esther said to him. The blade of the knife glistened as she moved it through the air. The men began chanting but he didn't recognize the words. He tried again to scream. He wasn't sure whether anything came out. If it did, it wasn't enough to drown out the noise from the men.

Esther knelt next to him. She placed the cold steel against Steve's neck. For a few seconds, the feeling of metal on the skin was the only sensation that he was aware of. Gone was the pain. Gone was the chanting. Gone was the smell of blood and sweat. But it didn't last long. Seconds later, there was a whole new pain.

The blade began cutting into his neck. Slicing through his flesh. The cold metal moved back and forth, pushing its way deeper and deeper. He tried again to struggle, to shout. But his body lay silent and still as the life was cut from him. Suddenly the silence was broken by a shriek of pure terror.

Steve opened his eyes and realized the scream was coming from his own lungs. He had been laying in his own bed. Esther was gone. And so were her men.

"Steve," Catherine called out, turning to him and cupping his cheek in her hands. "Hey, it was just a dream, okay? Just a bad dream."

He lay still in his bed while his mind recovered from the nightmare. As always after the dream, his breaths were coming deep and fast and his skin was moist. He was lying on his side in the fetal position, his legs curled up to his chest as though that would protect him from the horrors.

Instinctively he raised his left hand to his neck, where the cold steel had been sawing away just a few seconds earlier. His body was trembling and it took a few minutes before he started to regain his composure.

Catherine kissed his forehead and stroked his back soothingly. "It's okay, it was just a dream," she kept repeating. "You okay?"

Steve nodded, not entirely sure he was okay.

The nightmare came every time he slept in the past two weeks. But it had become worse recently, twisting reality into a whole new horror. He hoped for just one good night. So far, his wishes had not been answered. The things he had seen, had been subjected to, had given even him the need to call upon a higher power to save him. It was nothing short of desperation.

He threw away the covers and using the crutches next to his bed he stood up, heading to the bathroom. He closed the door behind him, went to the sink and ran the water, splashing some on his face, then turned off the taps and leaned his back against the wall. He just needed a minute to breathe. To calm his frantic heartbeat.

"Steve?" Catherine said, knocking on the door before she slowly opened it.

When Steve saw the worried look in her eyes, the pain he was causing her, he burst into tears, unable to hold the feelings at bay. He hated himself for doing this to her. To Danny. Maybe it would be better for them to stay away, but for his own selfish reasons, he wanted to keep both of them close.

Catherine's arms were around his shoulders in an instant, hugging him. She wiped the tears off his face, combed his hair with his fingers. She cupped the back of Steve's head and made him look at her when he pushed against her, taking in his sad eyes, the defeat inside them.

"Look at me," she barely whispered.

Steve looked into her eyes and saw the reflection of his own - full of anxiety, hate, pity and remorse, everything all at once.

She didn't say anything, just held his gaze and wiped the remaining tears off his cheeks.

"She won," Steve whispered after a moment, shaking his head. "She's dead but she won anyway."

"No," she protested, putting a hand on his shoulder. "No, she didn't. You'll get better."

Steve turned his gaze away, reluctantly looking into the reflection in the mirror behind her. The man he saw was someone he didn't recognize anymore. A piece of Steve McGarrett died in the hands of Esther Bennett. The reflection in the mirror reminded him of those fateful days and a wave of anger surged through him. He shoved Catherine's hand away and in the next instant, he smashed his fist into the mirror, shattering it into pieces.

Catherine jumped backward, sharp pieces of the mirror falling almost in slow motion around their bare feet, the sound almost musical as slivers cut into their legs.

Steve's hand was bleeding when Catherine went to him, stepping over shards like knives.

She took his hand in both of hers, pulling out the pieces of glass without a word. Steve's other hand closed around the back of her head, caressing her hair.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, his voice a mere whisper. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's not your fault," she said to him as she cleaned his hand. "None of this."

Steve collapsed to the floor, his back to the wall. His face was white, his eyes ringed with shadows like he hadn't slept in weeks. Because he hadn't.

Catherine lowered herself to his eye level, lifting Steve's head with her finger to look into his eyes.

"It's not your fault, you understand?"

Steve nodded but didn't mean it. Whose fault was it then? He was the one who got broken and caused all this mess. He was in this situation just because of his actions. And what was worse, he took Catherine and Danny down with him, almost killing them in the process. Twice.

"I love you, sailor," Catherine confessed, cupping his cheek. "And I won't let you beat yourself over this. Not anymore."

Steve held her gaze and placed the palm of his hand to Catherine's, shutting his eyes for a second, wondering how could she love him after what he'd done to her, to them, to their country.

"We're going to get through this," she said. "Okay?"

"Okay," he murmured, opening his eyes again.

He looked at Catherine, watching her, his face looking like a little boy. His face and the look in his eyes reflected how he felt too.

Lost.

It's been almost four weeks since their release from the hospital. Four weeks of physical recovery, recuperation, and rehabilitation. It had been grueling four weeks. And the mental rehabilitation, which Steve knew deep down was nowhere near complete, had been more like torture.

During that time Steve kept questioning what he had done and where his life was heading, sometimes unsure if he really cared about living at all. But every time he had doubts, his ohana was there for him, never leaving him alone. Especially Danny.

This time it was actually Steve who insisted on Danny staying at his place. Partially to help his injured partner to heal, partially for mental support. But most of all, he couldn't get rid of the vivid nightmares of his friend dying and keeping the blonde detective where he could protect him made Steve feel a little better. Despite Junior being back home, Danny didn't protest at all and gladly took the couch, which he was now used to.

But what surprised Steve the most was the fact that Catherine kept her promise this time and stayed in Hawaii. She's been gone for a day or two here and there but she always came back, which he was grateful for.

Just like before, it was the day she came home after a weekend spent away. But this time, Steve knew exactly why she had left and he was certain she won't be coming back alone. And he didn't like it at all.

Steve was sitting on the couch with Eddie's head in his lap, cradling a whiskey. He'd been drinking it quite often since his return home.

He looked at Danny, who emerged from the next door. He looked equally tired.

"Dinner will be ready soon," Danny announced.

But Steve was so anxious lately, that he hadn't been able to keep anything down, leading to losing quite some weight. He was certain he would throw up if he'd eaten anything more than two crackers he'd managed to eat earlier.

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat something," Danny insisted, his forehead creased with worry.

Steve didn't reply and finished his drink. Before his friend had a chance to say something, he heard a knock on the door but didn't bother to lift himself to open it.

"I'll get it," Danny said after the second knock.

Danny opened the door and let the visitors inside, greeting them.

Staring into the distance Steve didn't look in their direction, his mind going in circles. It was Catherine's voice he'd heard first, then a male voice he didn't recognize. They both greeted him and approached closer, stopping just a few steps to his right.

"Hi," he said without looking at them.

Danny sighed, watching his partner intently. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me," he said to Catherine and walked away.

Steve felt a light touch of Catherine's hand on his and he finally looked up at her. She gave him a sad smile.

"Steve, I'd like to introduce you to someone," she said.

But Steve didn't feel like meeting anyone at all, let alone someone new. Especially knowing why she wanted him to meet the guy. Her attorney friend, for sure. He definitely looked like one. She's been talking about him for a while, but he never showed an interest in the guy.

Knowing there were only two weeks left before he'll meet the judge before his trial to enter his plea, Steve sighed. He knew Catherine did her best to help, but he also knew any attorney would keep asking, digging, and bringing the painful memories that he wasn't sure he could handle just yet.

He didn't want to spend hours or days talking to the stranger about the details of what had happened. What he'd done. What he'd caused. He didn't want to relive his capture and admit the fact he'd been broken and what that meant. He didn't want to remember what pain he'd caused to his loved ones on top of everything else.

He closed his eyes for a moment and regretted it immediately. As much as he tried not to, his mind wandered to the night of Esther's death. To the moment he thought he'd lost the people he loved.

Every single time he closed his eyes, he saw Danny and Catherine dying right in front of him. And now it was not any different. He opened his eyes and just sat there, wondering when he'll stop having to watch them die over and over again. They were alive and he knew it, but his subconscious kept planting the painful images into his mind. The look in their eyes when they thought it was over had been haunting him ever since.

"Steve," Catherine repeated his name after noticing he hadn't moved or react. "This is important. Talk to me, please."

The smart-looking guy in the blue suit stepped in and stood right in front of him. It made Steve look at him.

"Please don't stand up," he began, glancing over the fracture brace on Steve's broken leg and extending his arm toward him. "I'm Michael Stevens," he introduced himself. "I owe Catherine for getting me out of trouble. She told me about your problem and the circumstances. And I'd be happy to help."

"Michael never lost a case," Catherine announced when Steve didn't respond.

Steve didn't even shake his hand, but Michael didn't want to back off anyway. "I know you'll be assigned a military attorney," he kept talking. "But you're allowed to have a civilian lawyer as a part of your defense counsel."

"I know my rights," Steve replied with no emotion in his voice. "And I appreciate your offer, I really do. But as I already told Cath, your help won't be necessary. I'm sorry you came over nothing."

"Steve!" Catherine said as though suggesting him to behave.

"It's all right," Michael said and gave her a smile, then reached into his pocket. Taking out a paper card he looked back at Steve and put the card on the table in front of him. "I'll leave this here. In case you change your mind."

"How much do you know?" Steve heard Danny's question directed to Michael from behind his back. He didn't notice the blonde detective come back into the room.

"I'm almost sure I know enough to win this case," Michael replied with confidence in his voice. "But I'd need to meet the other attorney to discuss the strategy and prepare the defense plea."

Releasing an annoyed sigh, Steve placed the empty glass on the table, picked up the crutches next to him and began to lift himself up. He hated the restriction in the movement but he got used to it in the past weeks. It'll be just for a few more weeks.

"As I said," he turned to Michael. "That won't be necessary."

"What do you mean it won't be necessary, Steven?" Danny asked, raising his voice. "You need every help you can get right now. This man can help you. Or do you want to spend the rest of your life in jail for something that wasn't even your fault? Huh?"

Steve didn't reply and walked away, leaving others in the living room. He headed to the kitchen, ignoring Danny's and Catherine's protests. He grabbed a clean glass and a bottle of scotch, poured himself a drink and drained it.

Leaning his back against the wall, his mind began to wander again and he fought hard to think about something else. Anything. But it didn't work.

"Steve?" Danny said, entering the kitchen. His voice was soft and compassionate. "Wanna tell me what was that about?"

"What was what about?"

"Why did you refuse that guy's help? There are not many lawyers around as good as him."

"I know," Steve admitted. He'd done his homework and checked the guy out before Catherine brought him into his house.

Michael Stevens was one of the best attorneys he could get, with zero losses on his account. Yet Steve didn't care.

Danny seemed to notice the look of disconcert on his face and gave him a moment to think. He grabbed an empty glass and pushed it toward Steve without a word.

Steve looked at his friend, poured scotch into his and Danny's glasses and took a sip.

"I screwed up, Danny. I have no excuse. When I think about what happened - what did I do, I'm sick, disgusted with myself," he admitted, his voice broken. "And I only see one way out of it."

"What way?"

"I'll plead guilty."

Danny's widened eyes met Steve's. "Are you out of your mind? You can't do that," his partner objected, raising his voice again.

Steve didn't want to do that. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life in prison. But he couldn't just continue to live his life with a clean conscience after what he'd done.

His partner seemed to notice a change in Steve's eyes, his moment of vulnerability.

"It wasn't your fault," Danny continued to protest. "We can prove it and you know it."

"It doesn't matter, Danny."

Steve frowned, finished his drink, poured another one. He didn't expect Danny to understand. But it was the right thing to do.

Danny pushed his glass toward him and Steve poured for him too, then sat on the kitchen counter and drank a swallow of the burning liquid.

"You can't give up. You have to try and prove that you weren't really you. That you weren't in the right mind, " Danny said, not looking at him. "You don't deserve to be locked up. Or…," Danny paused, closing his eyes and swallowing hard with the thought. "Or worse."

"I do," Steve opposed. He drank another swallow. "Danny, I can't pretend nothing had happened. I let her break me. I let her make me commit treason against the country I've been fighting for. It's not acceptable."

"But-"

"There is no but, partner," Steve interrupted him. "As much as I hate it, I have to accept the responsibility for my mistake. A mistake that cost the young sailor his life and endangered many more lives."

"But it wasn't-"

"Look, my decision had been made. I'll plead guilty. And I'll leave the decision about the punishment up to the court."

Danny locked his gaze on Steve, sadness lining his eyes. He nodded reluctantly, taking a sip of his drink before speaking up. "I get it," he said. "I know you're hurting. But you can't plead guilty. It's just not even fair you're being court-martialled for what had happened."

"Life's not usually fair, Danny."

"No, it's not."

They remained silent for a long minute, Danny was the first one to speak. "I just don't want this for you," he murmured.

"I know," Steve replied, his gaze down on his feet.

"Steve, I'm in this with you, okay?" Danny said, resting his hand on Steve's back, making Steve look at him.

Steve gave Danny a sad smile, grateful for his support. He knew it was hard for his partner as much as it was for him, if not even more. The pain and concern were written all over his eyes.

"Thanks, brother."

It's been two days since Michael Stevens showed up at Steve's house, but his stubborn friend didn't want to hear a word about his offer. It was tearing Danny's heart apart to see Steve like this.

Broken. Lost. Defeated.

But he wasn't about to give up on his partner, and he wasn't about to let Steve give up either.

A knock on the door brought Danny back to reality. His mind had been wandering into the dark places and he was grateful for the visitor.

He opened the door with a fake smile plastered over his face, well aware of his tired eyes giving the truth away anyway.

"Lou, hey. Come in," he said, holding the door open.

Lou smiled and entered.

"Where is Junior?" Danny asked. "I thought he'll come with you."

"He stayed at work. He said he wanted to finish something," Lou said. "Or maybe that was just an excuse to spend some time with Tani."

"Ah, I see."

"So how are my boys doing?" Lou asked, waiting for Danny to close the door before lifting his hand with the crate of beers. "I brought something I thought might be useful."

Danny shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers and gave Lou a sad smile, lowering his gaze.

"Why such a sour face? Since when don't you like beer?" Lou asked.

"No, no. I do like beer. It's just," Danny began, looking for the right words. "Maybe it's not a good idea right now."

Lou creased his forehead. "Why not? What's wrong?"

Danny's eyes glanced over the big window leading to the backyard, where Steve and Catherine sat in the wooden chairs, talking. They both seemed dead serious and Steve kept cradling the glass full of amber liquid.

"Oh," Lou said and the expression in his face softened. "Let me guess. Drinking problem?"

"He's overdoing it a bit. Trying to drown the problems, I guess."

Lou nodded, placing the beers on the floor, looking at Danny. "It's McGarrett, he'll be fine. Give him time."

Danny frowned. He wished Lou to be right, but he wasn't so sure this time.

"How are you doing?" Lou asked. "How's the leg and shoulder?"

"Still sore, but I can walk on my own now," Danny replied.

Lou held his gaze, as though waiting for Danny to continue.

"It's hard, to be honest," Danny admitted. "I'm not sure we can get past this. And I'm worried about him. I mean the court-martial. It's behind the corner."

Lou lowered himself into the couch and frowned, realizing there was a chance of Steve being locked up.

Danny lowered his gaze. "Lou, If he's found guilty, the life imprisonment in Leavenworth is the best he can hope for," he muttered, his voice broken.

He blinked back the tears welling in his eyes thinking about what he'd been told by the attorney. The life penalty in the military prison without any hope of parole would be the better option. But Steve was charged with espionage on top of everything and that meant if convicted, he may face death by the very country he swore to protect. How could that even be an option?

Lou sighed and leaned back in the couch, creasing his forehead in worry.

"But even if that was the case, if he avoided the death penalty, he wouldn't be in jail for long anyway," Danny continued, fighting off the burning feeling in his eyes. "Steve's got too many enemies. As soon as someone finds out he's in jail, he's a dead man, Lou. He would be an easy target and we won't be able to protect him."

Lou stood up and shook his head. "It's not gonna happen."

Danny wished Lou was right, but there was a very real possibility Steve will be locked up. And with the long list of Steve's enemies, not even the Pacific ocean and three thousand miles would keep him safe in there. Because there was nothing money couldn't buy. And that was not considering the death penalty.

"You hear me, Danny?" Lou's hand squeezed his shoulder, the look in his eyes determined. "It's not gonna happen. They can't convict him. He was not in the right state of mind. They're gonna evaluate his mental state at the time of the incident."

"Yes, they can," Danny rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. "And they would only evaluate it if the defense counsel requested the evaluation. And Steve showed exactly zero interest in preparing any kind of defense so far."

"Then we'll have his lawyer do that. He can request the evaluation."

"You don't get it, Lou."

"I don't get what?" Lou didn't understand. "What are you talking about?"

"He wants to plead guilty," Danny breathed out with defeat in his voice. He was unable to stop the single tear run down his cheek as he said it out loud.

Lou's jaw dropped and his gaze was locked on Danny. "But if he'll do that-"

"I know," Danny said. "There won't be a trial, no chance of proving anything. They'll just proceed straight to sentencing."

A sliver of anger rushed through him with the thought of his best friend not even trying to defend himself, to blindly take the responsibility for what wasn't even his fault, knowing the consequences of his decision.

Maybe Steve was ready to give up, ready to be miserable for the rest of his life in the jail, ready to die if that's what the jury will decide. But Danny wasn't. He'd lost one brother already and he couldn't lose another one. He couldn't watch Steve allow a bunch of criminals to destroy his life.

With hands in the pockets of his trousers, Lou strolled toward the window with a long sigh and looked to the backyard, his eyes searching for Steve. He creased his forehead. "They look serious. What are they talking about?" he asked.

"Cath is trying to talk some sense into him, I guess."

"Then I hope she's got better luck than the rest of us."

"Yeah," Danny whispered, his gaze locked on Steve and Catherine in the distance. "I hope so."

Watching her reflection in the mirror, Catherine took a few deep breaths, readying herself for what was necessary and overdue.

She didn't want to force Steve into the conversation when his mind was full of something else, healing from what had happened in the past months of his life. But he needed to know.

Taking one more deep breath, Catherine headed outside, to the backyard, knowing it was the place where Steve had spent most of the time lately, contemplating life. She walked closer to the beach and saw the back of Steve's head. He was sitting alone watching the sun setting over the horizon of the endless ocean as he sipped his drink.

She lowered herself onto the empty chair next to Steve and turned to him, a serious look on her face.

"Steve, we need to talk."

"I don't want the lawyer, I've made my mind already," he answered swiftly.

Catherine nodded. "I know. It's something else."

He finished his drink and shifted his gaze to her, holding his empty glass. "Okay," he said. "What's going on?"

Catherine looked up at him and bit her lip, looking for strength to tell him what she needed to tell him.

"Several things actually," she said, shifting her gaze back to him.

"I'm listening."

"I quit CIA," she confessed and watched Steve's jaw drop and his eyes widen.

"So all the trips in the past months…"

"Yeah," she said. "I had to finish the last assignment, that was the deal. But I'm all done now. For good."

"Why?" Steve asked. "You loved that job."

She nodded. "I did. But I realized it's not what I want anymore."

"What is it you want?"

Catherine looked deep into his eyes, dark, full of pain, and hoped the truth might chase at least a little bit of his suffering away.

"You know, when Danny had called me and said you were kidnapped, it got me thinking," she began. "It made me realize I might never have another chance to tell you I still love you."

Tears rushed into her eyes. She took a deep breath and continued. "I'm so sorry for leaving you, Steve. You are the last person I'd like to hurt. Walking away from you was the biggest mistake of my life. And I'm not asking you to go back to where we left off, I have no right for that. But I hope you can forgive me."

A tear rolled down her cheek and Steve leaned forward, wiping it off her face with his thumb.

"I love you too, Cath," he said, staring into her eyes. "I always have. And I'm not gonna lie, I was angry. But not anymore. I'm just glad you're here, right now."

Catherine remained silent for a moment, looking for the courage to continue.

"There is something else," she confessed, lowering her sight.

"What is it?"

"I'm pregnant."

To hear the word out loud, it was strange. Foreign.

"Pregnant? How?" Steve asked, his gaze burning into hers.

"How? Do you really need an explanation?"

Steve shook his head. "But-"

"Do you remember the weekend spent at your place about a month ago?"

Sure he did, but she could see it in his eyes that he would rather not remember anything, especially not the way it ended. It was too painful for him to think about that fateful night.

"You sure?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course, I'm sure. I wouldn't tell you if I wasn't."

Steve's forehead creased, like he was deep in thought, turning his gaze on the horizon.

"Steve?" Catherine said. "You okay?"

He didn't respond, just continued staring into the distance, cradling the empty glass.

She could feel tears building behind her eyes as she watched him.

"Steve, say something, please."

He rubbed his temples with his fingers and dragged his gaze to Catherine's.

"If you said this a few months ago, I'd be the happiest person on the planet."

"I know it's not the right time," she said, taking his hand into hers. "But it had happened and I thought you deserve to know. I'm not asking you for anything, I just wanted you to know."

Steve shook his head. "It wouldn't make a difference if you did," he said. "Because soon I'll be behind the bars and the last time I checked you can't really be a good parent from there."

She could see the change in his eyes, the frustration, and despair building up inside him. She studied him and she saw the broken boy behind that angry, hard facade.

"It doesn't have to be that way," she whispered, looking deep into his eyes. "You can still change your mind and have a fair trial, have a chance to live a normal life."

Steve snorted. "How could I live with myself if I didn't take the responsibility for my actions?" he said. "How could I look into my child's eyes?"

"Steve-"

"I want to be alone," he didn't let her continue. "Please."

Catherine blinked away the tears and gave him one more pleading look, then released his hand.

"Okay."

She stood up and watched Steve pour himself another drink. She turned on her heel and walked away, bursting into tears as soon as she was far enough to be sure he couldn't hear her.

This was not how she imagined things. Maybe if she didn't walk away a few years ago, they would be happily married and the kids would run around right now, instead of all this.

But she had left. The cards had been dealt and it was up to them what they're gonna do. She didn't know what will happen, but one thing she was certain of. She won't give up on Steve and she'll do everything in her power to help him get his life back on track.

2 weeks later

Unable to fall asleep despite the exhaustion, Steve gave up trying and opened his eyes. He looked over Catherine, asleep in his bed, curled into him.

He looked at the clock, barely two in the morning.

Pushing the covers back, he climbed out of the bed, careful not to disturb Catherine. Finally able to step on his leg without any aid, he pulled on his shorts and a t-shirt and walked out of the bedroom, down the stairs and out of the house, heading to the water's edge.

The sand was cool beneath his bare feet and he stopped to listen to the sound of water lapping against the shore. How calm it was. How comfortably predictable. It was always the same, no matter what. No matter the chaos in his head.

He looked up at the sky, dark enough that he could see stars. It was a new moon. And it fit his mood. Black.

Today was the day he'd been called by the military judge to enter a plea. Time to officially confess to the crimes he was forced to commit and accept the punishment he'd deserved. Because that was the only way he could live with himself.

Pretending nothing had happened was simply not an option. None of it would have happened if he didn't let Esther break him. How could he move on? How could he live with himself in peace knowing what damage had been done? What damage could have been done? A cold shiver ran down his spine with the thought.

He shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths, drawing the salty air into his lungs. Decided it was the right thing to do, he opened his eyes and continued to stare at the waves washing over the sandy beach.

It was two in the morning when Danny heard steps on the stairway. He didn't open his eyes to look, he didn't need to. In the past weeks sneaking out of the house for a couple of hours and getting some alone time with the ocean in his backyard had become Steve's way of dealing with the chaos in his head, with the wounds on his mind.

Danny usually pretended he was sleeping, to give his friend some space, but sometimes, sensing it was one of the worse nights, he got up and headed to the beach to be there for him in the time of his need.

It wasn't like he had been sleeping anyway. The nightmares kept him awake most of the time. And even if he managed to fall asleep, Steve's loud reactions to the horrors of his sleep would wake him up. But he didn't say a thing to his friend, knowing Steve wouldn't want him to hear that.

And tonight, he couldn't sleep at all. The silence upstairs just told him Steve was awake too, lost in his own thoughts. Just like himself.

He let Steve creep past him and head to the beach, giving him a few minutes alone. But he knew what day was today. And it was not a good time to leave Steve to fight his demons alone. Because maybe this night was the last one Steve spent in his own bed. Unless he'll change his mind about the plea.

Danny shook his mind, shoving that thought into the back of his mind. That couldn't happen.

He walked outside and stopped next to his friend, his bare feet digging into the cold sand. His eyes scanned over his partner. Steve looked different tonight. Worse than usual. Like he was chasing away the demon and he was definitely not winning.

Steve kept his head hung in silence, staring into the sand.

"You all right?" Danny asked after a while, but he had already known the answer to his question.

"No," Steve admitted. "No, I don't think so."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Steve was quiet for a few minutes and Danny decided not to push him. He knew his friend for long enough to know Steve only speaks when he decides to do so and for this stubborn SEAL talking about the feelings was harder than jumping off the cliff.

"It's Catherine," Steve murmured, his eyes locked on the dark ocean. "She's pregnant."

Danny's eyes widened with surprise. "She's pregnant?"

"Yeah."

Danny's lips curled into a genuine smile. "That's, uh… that's amazing. Congratulations," he said, patting Steve's back. "When did you find out?"

"About two weeks ago."

"And you're telling me just now?" Danny said. "Nevermind. You're gonna be a dad, that's awesome."

But Steve lowered his sight and drew his brows together.

"Why are you frowning like that?" Danny asked. "I thought you wanted kids."

"I did. Before," Steve said.

Without asking any further, Danny knew why Steve wasn't happy about it. He thought it was not the right time with all that had been going on. But Danny didn't agree. Because if this wasn't going to change Steve's mind about his decision to plead guilty, then nothing will. There was a tiny spark of hope that Steve will fight to get his life back now that he had a reason to do so and that's all Danny needed right now.

Hope.

Steve lowered himself, sitting into the sand, and buried his face into his hands. Danny followed him and sat next to his friend.

"I'm scared, Danny." Steve's voice was barely a whisper. "I don't know if I'm ready for today."

Danny wrapped his arm around Steve's shoulders, comforting him. "I know," he said. "I'm scared too. But you're not in this alone. All right? I'm here for you, babe. Always."

"Thanks, Danno."

Steve didn't pull away, he just sat there, leaned on Danny, lost in his own world.

Danny knew exactly what Steve needed - what they both needed right now and that's what he did - he sat there with him in silence for hours, until the exhaustion took over and Steve fell asleep on his shoulder.

Watching the sky turning orange with the sunrise, his arm still wrapped around his sleeping friend, Danny smiled. There might be hope after all.

I'd really appreciate if you found a few moments to review and let me know what you think.