I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.

Notes:

I am reposting this chapter 14 after what I already posted - Why? because I got a note that it wasn't appearing. I also was asked if the story was Complete. Which it is. I have it marked as Complete but that seems iffy too. SO - here is the chapter purposefully repeated and appearing as Chapter 15. I'm not sure what's happening ... but I hope this might fix the issue or at least help readers find the last chapter.

H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O

Steve's very unhappy room-mate showed up just shy of two hours later. But where Steve was completely oblivious to that fact, his new room-mate was awake and grumbling under his breath in abject disgust. Flat out on his back, Danny was wheeled back into the ICU objecting the entire time.

"Don't need intensive care ...," he repeated to a nurse who merely gave him an obligatory smile. Danny made a face; one he aimed at Lou. This was, after all, Lou's fault. For one, he easily could have been given his own hospital room. Secondly, he could have even declined medical attention and gone home ... at least if he'd been given half the chance. Lou Grover had seen fit to step in though, taking away each one of Danny's potential objections. Danny might have made it home if not for one ex-SWAT Commander who'd given him no choice at all.

"Lou, this is even over the top for you," Danny complained as the medical staff got him settled.

"Now you listen to me for a change," Lou said in a low voice. "Both of you."

"Steve's asleep," Danny said sarcastically. "He's not exactly listening, Lou. And don't you think he should be for this? I mean, fair is ..."

"Don't you sass me!" Lou interrupted him and Danny raised an eyebrow. Finger twirling through the air like he might be conjuring up some kind of potion, Lou ended the last clockwise rotation by stabbing the digit sharply in Danny's direction.

"He's sick as a dog. You're sick as a dog ... infections and leptospirosis ain't nothin' to fool with! And I can't even deal with the concept of needing to corral either one of ya ... or, worse yet, play messenger boy when you each start griping about the other like a pair of fussy, pansy-assed hens. So Danny, I'll just leave it at that. You stay in that bed and you heal up. If you need to know how your boy is doing, just turn your head to the left."

Danny bit his lip, scowling and for once, didn't know what to say. Though he sure as heck wanted to on principle alone, he actually didn't intend to go anywhere. Wilting backwards, Danny stayed quiet and blamed that on how sick he was feeling. In truth there wasn't a thing which Lou had said that wasn't valid. With an aggrieved sigh, Danny turned his aching head towards the all to familiar bed nearest the window. In dire need of a shave and decent shower, Steve was indeed in a deep sleep. Danny's ill humor immediately softened in relief.

Steve was sick. He was still sporting an oxygen mask and blood pressure cuff. And to Danny's mostly untrained eye, his breathing might have been just a bit off. His blood pressure might have been on the too low side, but Steve was sleeping. He was really sleeping and he did look better than when Danny had last laid eyes on him.

"That's good," Danny murmured softly as he stared at Steve's uncommon lax expression. Seeing for himself that the heavy lines of pain were gone from his partner's face, did Danny good. The fever and pain had come on fast. Steve's earlier weakness had been blatant and that? That in the likes of Steve McGarrett had been downright terrifying.

So again, Lou was right. If Danny'd been perfectly fine, he'd either be at the hospital or fretting at home that he should be at the hospital.

"I'm going home."

Danny glanced up and caught Lou's eye. He nodded at the stern expression, feeling duly chastised.

"I'm leaving," Lou repeated as if he had to. But Danny easily read between the lines. With a tone that was still very stern, Lou was warning him to stay put. Something which in all honesty, Lou didn't need to do to him; Danny wasn't usually the problem in the equation.

"Have I ever ignored doctor's orders?" Danny saw to fit ask as a chill ran through him hard enough to jolt his body from head to toe. "Ever?"

The initial non verbal answer and lopsided frown only half-believed him which Danny didn't think was fair.

"It's not me ...," Danny insisted stubbornly.

"Don't matter," Lou finally said. "With you it's more like how you got here that I don't appreciate. Did I not say you looked bad hours ago and did you not absolutely insist that you were perfectly fine?"

Danny scowled as Lou poised his finger high in the air again going from Danny to Steve and back to him again. "Alls I know right now is that having you two in the same spot makes my life a whole lot easier."

Danny blinked tiredly. It was a battle he was losing - had lost well before it started - and he'd best keep his mouth shut. He was nauseous and cold. His muscles ached deeply not only from the tussle, but from the leptospirosis he'd managed to acquire during his little impromptu swim. Something he also couldn't afford to have as a donor, not only so recently to his partner, but also for his son. In fact, the normally smiling and easy-going Doctor Sloan wasn't at all too happy to have learned the whole of Danny's medical history.

"Get some rest, man," Lou whispered as he disappeared out the door. With another sigh and long, hard look at his partner, Danny closed his eyes and did just that.

H5O* H5O

A name he knew better than his own faded away like a whisper, along with the oppressive thickness of the nightmare. First it was there stuck with him inside an all-consuming darkness and then there was nothing at all ... and Danny was awake. The nightmare was gone. He remembered something important though - he hadn't spared himself the indignity of collapsing in private. And because of that, nor had he escaped the confines of the hospital. Why? Because he'd managed to contract some funky bacterial infection after his impromptu swim.

Yeah. Right. Danny scrubbed at his face as he brought himself back up to speed when he connected with the nasal cannula.

But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. If he milked it the right way, a short stay could almost be like a sweet little vacation of sorts. If he had to be stuck here for a day or two, Danny thought that he might deserve these moments of quiet, self-absorbed selfishness. Solitude was under-rated. At least, when it was above ground.

He moved his arm. Then adjusted a leg, fidgeting to the left to get more comfortable on his sore back. He conducted a few minor experiments in moving his body with his eyes still resolutely closed even as various noises eked their way in.

The steady beeping of a monitor. An undertone of conversational voices. A distant laugh. Normal. Common and soothing. Things he was happily aware of but didn't need to get involved in ... not just yet.

Danny tentatively shifted his other arm and stopped when he felt the uncomfortable tug of an IV line. What felt like a clunky plastic cap of some sort, encased one finger. He knew what it was ... he'd seen a pulse oximeter on Steve.

Steve.

Momentarily alarmed, Danny peeled his eyes open and swung his head towards his left. Steve was still there. Still sleeping. He didn't look as if he'd so much twitched a muscle. Nothing had changed at all. Nevertheless Danny stared longer still, examining his partner from head to toe. There was hardly a crease in the light sheet which draped the quiet form. The one hand he could see was lying quietly on the bedding, palm flat, fingers open.

Quiet. Calm. Pain-free.

With a final look for good measure, Danny slowly relaxed back into his bed and stared up the ceiling. His head was throbbing along with his heartbeat. Nausea toyed relentlessly at his stomach. He willed himself to relax and just breathe while he traced the nasal cannula. It was new; he was sure of it. He didn't recall having needed one earlier. Apparently now though, Danny's own oxygen levels were suspect. Just what the hell was wrong with him then? He'd only been a bit sore and over-tired but now, his physical damages weren't so nominal. His muscles still ached with a vengeance, as did the base of his skull. The doctor had explained that leptospirosis caused flu-like symptoms. His muscles would ache, as would his head. Not all of Danny's pains then were directly from his fight with Jason Cowell.

With a mental sneer, Danny hoped that Cowell was as sick as he was. After all, the lunatic had gone for that very same swim. How else had he made it to the other side? Danny hoped Cowell was suffering as much as he was as he shivered under a blanket he hadn't seen before. He was cold. Freezing really, so he still was spiking a fever. If he'd expected a miracle upon waking, Danny found himself dead wrong. He was sick and deserved to sleep. And hospital bed or not, didn't he deserve this time off?

With one more worried glance towards his partner, Danny finally let his eyes close. Steve was right there and sleeping. Lou had told him to rest too, so he would do just that. Besides, based on the dim lighting, it had to be the middle of the night. A feeling of dread teased somewhere just below the surface though and Danny pushed it away. He needed to sleep; he wanted to sleep.

Nightmares or not, Danny closed his eyes and vowed himself to sleep.

Just this once.

Just for a little while.

Just ...

"Hey Danno. You awake?"

Danny scowled as Steve's fairly loud stage-whisper cut through his quiet mental ramblings.

"No."

"You're awfully fidgetedy to still be asleep." The tinge of relief in Steve's voice was obvious, as was the smile. "Besides, you were looking at me just now. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine," Danny started to say, cringing inside when Steve literally had the absolute gall to make a sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter. "Shut up." He had to admit though, his response practically mirrored Steve's "fine" ... they were both always just dammed peachy, weren't they? Danny bit back a grin.

"Oh, now I should shut up?" Steve continued to chuckle lightly, his voice a mere whisper. "Me?" For a minute, the soft chuckles continued on because Steve wouldn't let it go and Danny heaved out a long, suffering sigh. But he was trying not to openly smile now too.

"I thought you were sleeping," Danny complained petulantly as he forced his eyes back open, still squinting even in the dim light of the room. But. Wait. Danny scowled as what Steve said sank in a bit more firmly: Steve knew he had been looking at him? "You looked like you were sleeping!" He glared at his partner who'd obviously been playing possum quite well. Steve was grinning at him. Then he shrugged unapologetically.

"You were dreaming before," Steve stated quite plainly. Suddenly serious, he lost his smile and he stared back at Danny just as hard.

Danny blinked at him, surprised by the comment.

"It was nothing," Danny said. "I don't even remember it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Like I said, it's gone already."

"Is it? Because you said my name," Steve gently offered next. "You called out to me. You sounded ... you know..." His voice trailed off. Steve stopped talking without actually saying the word - a polite gesture - but Danny remembered being scared. Scared shitless he'd lose Steve. Scared to death he'd be buried alive ... terrified of the closed in pitch darkness of a place that was slow to letting him go ... even when he was wide awake.

"It's gone." Danny shook his head, wanting to deny that whisper of a memory. But he knew it was true. He knew he'd called out for Steve. He'd only thought he'd dreamt that part though.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"Yeah I'm fine," Danny whispered, though he was frowning now as an uncomfortable feeling of something being terribly wrong settled in the pit of his stomach. Fragments came back to him. The white flash of Steve's profile. A shadowed hand ... the image of a booted heel that was there and then suddenly wasn't. Danny closed his eyes and visibly shuddered. The dank smell of the tunnel was in his nose again and he was filled with a sense of dread.

He didn't remember anything of the nightmare and yet, he did.

"Danny? Are you absolutely sure you're okay?" Steve pressed him harder.

He nodded, eyes still closed. "It's gone," Danny insisted. "It is ... it's just ... dark." There was a pause in their soft exchange long enough for Danny to reopen his eyes. He stared at the ceiling, feeling sickly chilled and incredibly out of sorts. He'd swallowed a bit of tainted water and would be fine despite Sloan's professional concerns over his donor status. But Steve had been shot. The wound a bloody and painful one requiring surgery. At first deemed a success, Danny was harboring doubts about the medical prognosis. A deep infection near the bone was the very last thing Steve had needed to have happen. Turning his head he stared harder yet back at his partner.

"But you ...how do you feel, Steve? How's the pain?" Danny asked. "Sloan said there was a pocket of infection ... like an abscess ... could have killed you."

"It didn't, Danny," Steve replied. "And it won't. Sloan changed up my meds and already I'm feeling better. I'm sore but better. The new round of antibiotics are working. I'll be good as new in a day or two."

Danny snorted noisily through his nose, a mocking sound. He waved his hand through the air, his next giggle, far too-sharp as his stress skyrocketed again.

"What's so funny?"

"And then I'll have to keep you out of the dammed ocean or you'll get what I've got!"

"I'm not going swimming, Danny!" Steve objected loudly.

"Says you ...," Danny muttered under his breath. "Two seconds ... just two seconds ... just once, I'd like to believe you'll listen to a doctor. Any doctor!"

"I won't go swimming; not this time," Steve recanted in a softer voice. "I promise, Danno. Believe me. Scout's honor."

Feeling almost obligated to do something, Danny snorted again. The noise as soft as Steve's promise because, dammit, if Steve's tone wasn't absolutely genuine.

"Okay. Fine," Danny muttered when he sensed Steve staring at him. "I believe you."

"Why'd you follow me?" Steve whispered unexpectedly. "You shouldn't have ... I mean ..."

"Why'd I follow you?" Danny repeated incredulously. "I shouldn't have?" He raised the head of his bed to get a better look at his partner. No, his best friend. Danny had a ton of good answers. Sarcastically voiced snide ones. Excuses about Jason Cowell and how dangerous the perp was. The need to get his particular man at all costs. But each one died before they could touch his lips.

Why had Danny followed Steve into his own personal living hell? Danny opened his mouth and then closed it, unsure of what to say. To be sure, Danny wanted to yell. Some part of him wanted to yell and beat his chest at the stupidity of it all. But he just couldn't get himself there. He couldn't find the wherewithal to get that mad because, God help him, based on Steve's expression, it was an honest question.

Honest, because Steve knew just how terrified Danny was of tight places. He knew and didn't berate him for it or take it lightly. Steve got it as only a friend could. And that was it in a nutshell. They each got the other without apology. They trusted each other implicitly ... as only brothers ever could. Each would follow the other anywhere no matter the stakes.

They would always ask the hard questions, too. Talk it all through later no matter what and Danny began to smile. Isn't that what they were doing that very minute? Hashing it out? Checking each other out? Making sure they were still rock-solid? These were the very reasons why he would follow Steve to the ends of the earth to back him up.

To bring him home. To save him.

So case in point, what would have happened if Danny hadn't followed him down into the bunker? He didn't even want to entertain the thought of that. Not ever. He could manage a few bad dreams if he could be exactly where he was that very moment: flat out in a hospital bed staring back at his partner's very much alive face.

"Are you really asking me that question?" Danny asked. His smile grew as he shook his head from side to side. A move which apparently surprised Steve.

"Yes. And I'm serious," Steve said, seemingly worried by Danny's calm response. He pushed his oxygen mask off to the side in order to speak more clearly. "So, but Danny ... why'd you do it? I mean ... I get it ...and I'd never blame you if ...," Steve stammered. "It would have been all right if you hadn't ..."

"Because you imbecile," Danny said warmly, interrupting him. "I'm your partner and ... I wanted to. I will always want to be there."

"Even when you don't?" Steve asked slyly, his worried eyes lighting up as he dared to smile again, understanding exactly what Danny was getting at.

"Yeah," Danny chuckled lightly. "And even when I don't."

~ End. ~