A/N: Not much to say. Busy week, mostly in a good way. But: I get tired of making decisions. After a day of making countless split-second decisions for other people, I'd rather somebody else decide what's for dinner in the evening. I don't want to decide.

Also: I took my best guess with the medical stuff. Not really my area. Sorry for any mistakes.

A/N: Warning: some strong language. Figured that's built into the T rating, but just in case…

"I trust you, Danny. Completely."

"You shouldn't."

Steve didn't know what to say to this as his partner rolled over and faced away from him. A thousand retorts crossed his mind and just as quickly evaporated. "Danny…"

But Danny cut him off. "I'm tired, Steven. I need to rest."

"Bull." Picking up his chair, Steve moved around the bed until he was once more facing his partner. "We're not leaving off there. You said you wanted to talk. So talk."

"I changed my mind." A painful round of coughing suddenly shook the detective violently and he clenched his eyes shut and curled up on his side as his body rode out the fit. As it finally began to subside, he thrust out a hand and gestured to Steve. "Mask," he whispered breathlessly.

Steve lifted the plastic device hanging on a hook near the bed. "I thought you hated this thing," he commented as he pushed it into Danny's trembling hand.

"Still do." Holding it over his mouth, the detective grimaced as the two short words fogged the mask. "Not supposed to… be talking… anyway."

"Uh huh." Steve was more interested in the device over his partner's mouth. "You sure you aren't supposed to be wearing that thing consistently?" he now asked as he took a closer look at the mask.

"Hate it."

"So that's your excuse? The doc isn't going to be too pleased with that, Danny. If you want to get out of here…"

"I know. Just… shut up," Danny puffed laboriously. "Please."

"You gotta finish this conversation sometime, buddy." But watching his partner's anxious, wheezy breathing, Steve knew that now was not the time. Regardless of how much he wanted to finish the conversation, it was evident that Danny's body simply wasn't up to the task at the moment.

Damn cough. Damn water. Damn snow. Steve sighed inwardly and reached forward to grab the mask as the detective jerked it aside and launched into another fit of coughing. "Breathe, Danny," he encouraged. "Just breathe." Holding the mask as his partner curled in on himself, he rubbed a gentle circle on Danny's back and waited for the hacking to subside.

When if finally did, Danny lay quietly in the bed, eyes closed and unusually still.

"You okay?"

Danny nodded once. His heart was still racing from exertion, but his body felt zapped of any energy. All he could think about was inhaling, exhaling, and ignoring the deep ache in his chest and the tickle in his throat.

"Need anything?"

A curt shake of the head.

Steve pressed his lips together grimly and waited.

Danny's eyes remained determinedly closed, but not tight enough to keep a few tears from trickling out and slipping down his cheek to the pillow. The hand clutching the blanket tightened convulsively around the white cloth, and he pulled it protectively over his shoulder until only his face was visible.

"Need sleep," he finally whispered.

"Okay buddy. Whatever you need. An hour sound good?"

Eyes still closed, Danny nodded mutely.

"Okay. One hour." Steve reached over and flicked out the lights. "I'll be here."

…

In the end, Steve let him sleep for nearly two hours. Stepping into the hallway, he spoke to one of the nurses and was finally able to place a much-needed call to Duke from a borrowed cell phone. Following his update, he debated calling Chin and Kono, but finally decided that the cousins didn't need to have their family celebrations ruined with bad news. Steve could fill them in when they returned.

Back in the room, he settled into the chair and flipped through several 'borrowed' magazines and a local paper from the lobby. He devoured the few articles of interest (a remote hiking trail on Maui was the highlight) and skimmed a few commentaries on local issues before giving up and switching on the TV. Small and underfunded already, the hospital hadn't invested much in a cable package, and Steve finally found himself watching baseball reruns from last year's season on a commercial-heavy local channel.

"You must be bored."

Startled, Steve nearly dropped the remote as Danny's sleepy voice emerged from the bed. "Hey, you're awake."

"Yeah." Danny blinked sleepily and then pushed himself up with a small grunt. "How long was I out?" he asked in a rough voice.

"About two hours. Figured you could use it."

"Mmm."

Steve hid a grin as Danny tried to brush his untidy blond hair back into place. "You realize no one else cares if your hair is messy?"

Danny tried to frown but ended up yawning instead. "I care." But after several minutes of fruitless efforts to pull it under control, he gave up, leaned back and closed his eyes again.

"Hey." Steve tapped his leg. "No falling asleep. You just did that."

"Not sleeping," Danny mumbled. Pushing back a cough, he reached for a glass of water, only for his hand to become entangled in his IV line. Growling, he strained to untangle his hand while fighting the ache in his chest. "Stupid thing."

"No. Not stupid. You need that." Snagging his wrist, Steve deftly unwound the line, then poured and handed him a cup of water. "How's the lungs?"

"Feels like a herd of elephants trampled them." Danny cast a glance at the IV pole and noted the new bag hanging there. "More meds?"

"Doc is worried about infection. He'll be by later- wants to listen to your chest."

"Mmm." Danny closed his eyes again. "How long?"

"How long what?"

"Till we get out of here." Noting the absence of a bracelet on Steve's wrist, he added, "I see you've been checked out already."

"Yup. Nothing wrong here."

"So how long?"

"Depends. If there's no sign of infection and your cough improves, we can take the last flight out of Hilo at 11. Chief Namaka already booked us tickets."

"And otherwise?"

"Otherwise, you'll be here for a while, buddy."

"Maybe I'll pull a McGarrett and run away," Danny chuckled.

Steve didn't laugh; it didn't seem funny.

Danny sighed and sobered. "Listen, about earlier… I uh…" He sighed and smoothed a hand over his hair. "My head wasn't in a good place. And the '86 Mets lineup wasn't helping. But, ah… I'm feeling better now. I was just really… tired. But now I'm fine."

"Physically fine and mentally fine are two different things, D."

Danny snorted. "You think I don't know that? I work with you, you big oaf."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, physically you're a perfect specimen, but mentally," Danny patted his chest impatiently as he tried to forestall another cough, "mentally, you're a great example of what belongs in a psyche ward. I just need some rest and clear lungs. Gimme a few days and I'll be good to go."

"I'm being serious, Danny. I've seen this before."

"Yeah, yeah, Mr. I've-seen-it-all-before, Commander McPerfect, Navy SEAL." Danny waved his hand dismissively as a red flush crept up his face and Steve sensed a dark anger ripple through his friend. "I don't need you psychoanalyzing me. And don't patronize me, either. I'm fine."

"Danny, you're not-"

"I'm fine, Steve," Danny interrupted. "Physically, I may need a day or two, but I'm fine. Quit worrying about me."

"It's my job to worry about you, Danny. Both as your boss and as your friend."

"Boss, huh. You're going with that? Not partners?"

"Danny…"

"No, you know what? Maybe you should just fly back to Oahu and finish the whole damn case by yourself," Danny said fiercely. No longer merely irritated, he was angry and Steve shrank back slightly as Danny continued: "You seem to do just fine on your own; you don't need me. I hold you back. You don't break, you don't need sleep, you always have a plan and know exactly what to do. You need a partner who can keep up with you. Someone who won't weigh you down. Who won't keep you…"

A sudden fresh wave of coughing and hacking interrupted whatever Danny had been about to say. Doubled over, he clutched his chest as coughs wracked him back and forth. Grateful the conversation had been interrupted, Steve reached forward and snagged the discarded mask that Danny had pushed aside earlier and now pressed it into his partner's hands.

"Breathe, Danny. Just breathe."

Gasping, Danny pulled the mask over his face and wheezed for several minutes as he tried to catch his breath. Then, sweaty and exhausted, he finally relaxed against the pillows and closed his eyes.

"This sucks." Clutching the mask in one hand, Danny wiped the other hand across his face. "This really fucking sucks."

Steve had nothing to say except to nod in agreement.

"I can't… can't even… properly talk… " Danny opened his eyes and eyed Steve guardedly. "Bet that makes you happy."

"You being here, in the hospital, does not make me happy."

"But if I quit talking, then you'd be-"

"-then I'd be happy because you'd be resting and giving your body a chance to get better. I need you better, Danny. I need you to get well."

Danny shrugged dejectedly. "Why?"

"Why? Why? Danny, you're my back-up!" Waving his hands in close mimicry of his partner, Steve continued, "Who's supposed to back me up in the field now? Chin and Kono aren't here. Neither is Grover. You want me to take Jerry the next time there's a shootout?"

Danny couldn't help the small snort that escaped at the thought of Jerry with a gun.

"I need my partner, man. And that means you. And you," Steve continued, noting (and ignoring) the dampness in Danny's eyes, "you need to do whatever it takes to get better. Whatever you need to do to back me up."

"So… therapy? A shrink?" Danny tried cautiously.

"If you need it, if that's what it takes, yeah."

"And if I don't?"

"Well, as your boss, it's my responsibility to sign off on your field duty paperwork, and if you aren't fit for duty, then…"

"Ah." Danny huffed in frustration. "Okay, for your information, this does not impact my ability to shoot or to chase bad guys. Once the doc clears me, I should be good to go." But he couldn't quite hold Steve's piercing gaze. Shying away, he twisted the blanket through his hands, his eyes focused on the bed. "Just, uh… no cases around water for a while. Okay?"

"Danny, we're on an island. We're surrounded by water."

Danny shrugged weakly and looked miserable as he once more closed his eyes and carefully pulled the blanket up to his chin. Feigning sleep, he lay there for several minutes, ignoring his partner as he struggled to pull his thoughts and emotions under control. "Freakin…"

"What?" Steve hadn't quite caught the mumbled words.

"Me. Like a freaking hormonal woman- all over the place. Like Rachel at her 'time' of the month- oh man."

"Don't let Kono catch you saying that."

Danny snorted. "Or Rahcel." He wiped his eyes again. "But it's annoying- can't seem to help it."

"That's trauma, Danny. And it's natural. Nothing wrong with crying."

"It sucks."

Steve sighed. Pulling his chair close to the bed, he brushed a hand wearily over his face as his partner

"Look, I've seen men break, Danny… completely. Men that I've served with, tough, bad-ass guys, and they sold out their teammates just to make it- the torture- stop. My men… men I was responsible for…" Steve stopped. Everything about that mission was still classified. "You did everything you could do. I don't fault you for anything that happened. In that situation, it could happen to anyone."

Danny said nothing. Eyes tightly closed, he clutched the white blanket against his chest like a lifeline, his shoulders shaking with silent tears.

"And I'm sorry, Danny."

"What're you sorry for?" Danny mumbled. "You didn't tell them anything."

"Like I said, it should've been me on the bench."

"So I could watch you being tortured? I've got news for you, Steven: that wouldn't have fixed anything."

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted as the doctor suddenly entered.

"So… Mr. Williams." Not realizing what he was interrupting, he scooped up Danny's chart and scanned it quickly. Steve cast an exasperated look at Danny, but the other man's eyes were tightly closed as he tried to hide his red, watery eyes.

Having already been made aware of their situation, the doctor didn't bother asking Steve to leave as he approached the bed and flashed a quick smile at his patient. "How are you feeling?"

"Uh…" Danny brushed a hand quickly over his face and tried to discreetly dry his damp cheeks as he blinked cautiously up at the doctor. "Okay, I guess."

"How's the chest?" the man asked as he helped Danny to sit up.

"Okay." Ears reddening, Danny shuffled the covers aside in anticipation of the doctor listening to his lungs. A moment later, the icy stethoscope slid under his hospital gown.

"Deep breath please."

Danny sucked in as much as he could. There was a pause, then the cold instrument moved across to the other side.

"And again."

He inhaled again, this time coughing briefly. The doctor listened for a moment, hmmed, and made a note in his chart. Then he had Danny blow into something, and clipped something else on his finger, and asked him quite a lot of uncomfortable questions that Danny really didn't want to think about. How much water had he inhaled? How much had he swallowed? Did the water have a particular taste or smell? Did he become unconscious while holding his breath? How long did the incident last?

Incident. As Danny answered the doctor's questions to the best of his ability, he barely had time to reflect on the man's choice of words. Being waterboarded and nearly dying was no mere incident; why not call it what it was? Torture. Danny was tortured. And beating around the bush about it wasn't helping matters any.

Danny pushed down the resurgence of anger and tried to focus as the doctor asked him about any perceived pressure in his chest and pain around his heart. No, it didn't hurt, except when he coughed. Yes, he was still having difficulty controlling his coughing. Yes, the mask seemed to help.

He was surprised at how angry he was over the whole thing. Sure, the whole situation was bad. Yes, it had been intense and stressful. But, as Steve pointed out earlier, he hadn't died. Hadn't even come close, according to the doctor, although it certainly felt like it. So why was he so angry?

Frowning, he suddenly realized he had missed the doctor's last statement. "Sorry, what?" he said quickly, shaking the other thoughts away.

"I said, I'm writing you a prescription for this," the doctor said, holding up a green pill, "and I'm sending you home with an inhaler. It should help you breathe easier, especially with those coughing fits. But, barring infection, I'm expecting the cough to clear up in a few days." "Is infection normally an issue?" Steve asked.

"Normally in near-drowning cases, the victim has ocean or pond water in their lungs, both quite dirty, so infection is expected. However, in Mr. William's case," the doctor nodded appreciatively toward Danny, "the water seems to have been relatively clean and he appears to have inhaled a minimal amount."

"So when can I go home?"

Another flash of a smile appeared as the doctor closed the chart and deposited it in the tray at the foot of the bed. "At this rate, tonight. Possibly in time to make the last flight back to Oahu. Your cultures were inconclusive so I'd like to know more before I release you."

Steve exchanged a look with Danny. "Any chance we can make that flight a guarantee?"

"Well…" Slipping the chart out of its slot again, the doctor rubbed his chin as he studied Danny's information. "I can't guarantee anything, you understand," he said, and Steve and Danny both nodded. "As I said, the cultures we took earlier are inconclusive, so I'm keeping you here for at least another four hours. Pneumonia is still a possibility, and I want to see that cough disappear. That being said, I would be surprised if Mr. Williams didn't make the 11pm flight back to Oahu. Possibly even the 10 p.m. if things continue to improve. But if you go home tonight, I cannot stress enough that you go immediately to Queen's or Tripler tomorrow morning before engaging in work of any kind, even light desk duty." He gave them both very serious looks. "Understood?"

"Yes sir," Steve said, nodding vigorously to back up Danny's barely-audible yeah.

"There's a note in your file, Mr. Williams, from the doctors at Queen's. Seems the two of you don't always follow orders, so I'll just say this: lungs aren't like broken bones. The bone will eventually heal, regardless. The lungs need rest. Don't provide that rest, and you risk some serious complications that could be permanent. Do I make myself clear?" His eyes rested on Steve.

"He'll go to the doctor first thing tomorrow, sir."

"Good. And certainly before he returns to work."

"Understood."

...

"Well?"

"They have a flight out of Hilo at 11."

"And?"

"I'm not expecting anything. But I'll have a man on that flight. Just in case."

…

Luck was with them ("for the first time ever," Danny muttered in an aside to Steve as he scrawled his signature across the discharge paperwork), and after another long nap, supper, and one last battery of tests, Danny was finally released around 9:30 p.m. The officer guarding their room drove both men to the airport where the Chief Namaka was waiting with their wallets, cell phones, and a late supper (since the hospital 'supper' had been rather unsubstantial). "I had Sergeant Lukela send your things over this afternoon," he explained as he walked with them through security and down the open-air terminal. "Figured you'd need them for your flight back. He said he'll have a car for you when you arrive."

They settled onto a long bench near the gate and opened up their sandwiches. For a moment, Danny sat stiffly, taking in the sights and smells of this new location as he tried to sort out any dangers. Nearby, a group of construction workers in bright vests prepared for their daily commute back to Oahu. Not far away, a young couple clearly returned from a romantic weekend occupied the two chairs nearest the gate. Scattered around the gate area were a few straggling tourists in the remaining chairs, and backpackers sitting on the floor along the walls. A warm breeze off the ocean blew through the open space, bringing with it a familiar, salty smell that reminded Danny strongly of Steve's backyard. Steve, for his part, was already halfway through his meal and the police chief was making small talk with him about the latest eruptions at Kilauea. Sensing no danger, Danny finally relaxed enough to sit back and take a bite of his sandwich.

"What about the plane and crew that brought us here?" he asked in a low voice between bites. "Any updates on that?"

"No, unfortunately," Namaka frowned. "Whoever did it made a mess but was very thorough in the clean-up. No prints or anything useful so far, but the techs are still sorting through the evidence." The chief shrugged unhappily. "It'll take time."

"And the hospital staff…?"

"Have been warned not to talk about the incident. Aside from your doctor and one nurse whom we've worked with before, no one else knows… I hope." Again he shrugged. "It's a small town. Word gets around. But I think any danger you'll face will be waiting for you in Oahu, not here on Hawai'i."

"That's what I'm afraid of…" Danny muttered.

…

The two boarded the final flight out of Hilo at 11p.m. As Chief Namaka had predicted, it was a quiet flight back to the island and an equally-quiet ride to Steve's house where he insisted that Danny spend the night. By early Friday morning, both men were finally in bed, fast asleep.

A/N: The Hawaiian airports are definitely the most beautiful and interesting airports I've been through. Open-air gardens in Honolulu and the almost entirely open-air airport of Hilo (the TSA section has some reluctant walls and windows) make for a very pleasant experience. And who doesn't love to pick up their baggage in a garden? So cool and so strange, compared to what I'm used to. So what's your favorite/weirdest airport?