kristen999

--

The weapon's fire will be a giant beacon to their position. While knowing where the enemy will converge is good, not knowing from what directions isn't. Steve anticipated encountering the hostiles trying to flank them, but now the Ox's buddies are more than likely headed this way, too. Running blindly isn't an effective defense and Steve uses the jungle to alert him to danger.

Danny makes an odd gasp and Steve reacts, whipping his rifle in the direction of the noise. Looking sheepish, Danny points at the gigantic spiderweb stretched between low-hanging branches. Staring at the sticky strands, Steve walks through it, tearing apart the bottom with his fingers.

“You have something against Charlotte’s web?” Danny hisses.

“Come on,” Steve says, stepping heavily with his boots toward some large ferns. Unshouldering his pack he nods at Danny. “Dig a hole right here,” he points. “About six inches deep, three inches wide.”

“Sure, why not? This is a great time to play Farmer John.”

Digging through his pack, he finds a rubber band and suture kit from the medical supplies. Tearing it apart, he sets aside the thread. Ignoring Danny's “of course,” Steve pulls out one of his grenades from his vest. Checking that the hole is almost ready, Steve clasps the levers, wrapping the rubber band around it. Taking the suture needle, he quickly sews a loop into the rubber band, pulling a meter of thread free.

“Do we have time for this?”

“Ten more seconds,” Steve answers, grabbing the confiscated .45. Taking the thread he ties the other end several times around the base of the trigger. Setting the grenade in the hole, he pulls the pin out, the rubber band carefully keeping the levers pressed. Covering most of it up with dirt he lays the .45 on the ground. “Most mercs lack field experience,” he says in a low voice. “This trap will tip us off if we got people sneaking up behind us.”

“Hence the spiderweb breadcrumbs,” Danny whispers, hooking a thumb back.

Piling everything back into his pack, Steve grabs his weapon and checks his GPS again. “This way.”

Plunging deeper into overgrowth, sweat pours in rivulets down their brows. Steve's spent days trudging through the rainforests of Uganda and Bolivia with twenty pounds of gear. This is a picnic in comparison. They have to be close, even after taking a detour to throw the goons off their trail.

The beetle and cricket noise has slowly dipped several decibels. While still chirping and chittering, the drop in noise is unnerving. Holding out a fist, Steve stops, searching through shadows of green and black. Something's not right. Like they've just walked into---

“Get down!” Steve shouts, shoving Danny to the ground.

The space above their heads is filled with bullets, branches splintering behind them from the impact.

“Sniper!” Steve yells, searching the treetops.

Gunfire peppers the ground in front of them from another direction and Danny rolls out of the way. “Yeah, well we've got bad guys to our right!”

Danny returns fire and Steve pulls the pin to one of his grenades, lobbing it overhead.

The explosion rattles the jungle and Steve gets to one knee, adding suppression fire. “Get behind that fallen tree to your three o'clock!”

“You’d better be right behind me!” Danny yells, running.

Steve soon follows, diving under the tree. Vines and bark rain down beside him from missing bullets. Those were from a semi-automatic. Steve would bet his paycheck that the enemy had switched channels on the radio. And the sniper was acting as a spotter, telling the others about Steve and Danny's movements.

Unhooking one of his grenades he puts one by Danny's feet. “I'm leaving one of these with you. Pull the pin and throw. That's all you have to do.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I've got to locate that sniper's nest and I need you to cover me. Use the grenade as a last resort.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Listen. Keep moving. Fire then change locations. Don't stay anywhere for more than ten, twenty seconds.”

Once again Danny accepts Steve's every word. The weight and strength of that trust is a formidable force. Adrenaline flooding his veins, Steve takes off, Danny covering his movements.

Being a good sniper is all about patience, camouflage, and geometry. Steve has two different bullet trajectories and he quickly triangulates the angles, searching for the sweet spot. The guy's less than three hundred yards away based on the crack-bangs.

One more shot, just one more and he'll locate the bastard. His partner can't last out there forever.

Danny sprays another volley, but it's met with counter-fire. All fully automatic. The other shooters are closing in.

A ten second lull settles in, followed by pop, pop, pop.

That's the third needed trajectory. Gotcha, Steve smiles.

Leaning against a tree, he peers through his scope in the vicinity of the nest. He searches the canopies for movement or the glint off a lens. Come on, come on.

The next muzzle flash paints a perfect bull’s eye. He locates a figure six and half meters up. Fourth branch. By the sniper's third shot, Steve adjusts his mil recticle, squeezing the trigger. There's a blossom of red in his lens and he switches back to automatic.

Without a sniper's eyes and ears, it evens the odds with the remaining bad guys. Now he has to locate Danny.

Turning to run in his partner’s last direction, Steve spots a camouflaged figure ten yards away.

Steve squeezes the trigger, but it’s half a second too late. There's pain everywhere, the velocity and force of something knocking him off his feet. It's like someone's dropped a bowling ball onto his chest. For a moment he can't catch his breath, can't move. His weapon is gone and it takes pure force of will to get his arms moving. Pushing up with his hands to get into a sitting position, a sharp pain rips down his side. Oh God, that hurts.

Flopping back down, Steve pants for air, rallying his strength to try again. Pulling himself up with a curse, he forces down the pain, searching for his weapon.

“Lose something?” Stepping forward, a camouflaged figure emerges, kicking Steve's rifle out of the way and pointing his AK at Steve. “Any last words asshole?”

Seeing the approaching shadow, Steve smiles. “Yeah, look behind you.”

The guy freezes in a moment of uncertainty and Danny cracks him on the back of the head with his weapon.

Quickly disarming the thug, Danny does a quick scan of the jungle behind him. Breathing heavily, he kneels in the dirt, face frantic. “What happened? Are you hit?”

“Took a couple to the vest. Think I cracked a rib,” Steve grunts, digging his fingers into Danny's shoulders. “Help me up.” Struggling to his feet, the pain skyrockets and he has to use Danny for support. “How...many...?

“I took one guy out. Leaves one more, but he fled. And you're not alright. Come over here,” he commands. Draping one of Steve's arms across his neck, Danny steers them behind the tree.

This is not good. Steve knows he's hurt pretty bad, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, an ungodly fire poker searing his side. He tears a hole in his lower lip when Danny guides him to a seat on the ground.

Danny doesn't waste time undoing the Velcro to Steve's vest tab by tab. He rips the vest open with both hands. “No, no, no. This is bad, Steve, this is really bad.”

The bottom of Steve's t-shirt is soaked in blood. Snagging the hem, he peels it away, revealing a hole in his lower right quadrant. Visual confirmation of the wound only amplifies the pulsation of pain coming from it. “Bullet must've...slipped under the vest.”

“You think?” Danny snaps, carefully leaning Steve forward.

The motion rips a muffled scream from Steve and Danny whispers in his ear, “Sorry, man. Sorry.”

“It's alright,” Steve manages to gasp out between heaves for air, trying to regain a smidgen of control.

“Okay, there's no exit wound, but um...we'll figure something out. I'm going to slip your pack off.” Pawing through the medical kit, Danny starts yanking stuff out. “What are these? Are these painkillers?”

It takes a second to focus, but Steve stares at the ampoules of morphine in Danny's palm. “Yeah, but I can't take them right now.”

“No, I really think you can.”

“Later.”

“This isn't the time for you to pull your ‘I don't feel pain’ crap on me.”

Holding up his bloody fingers, Steve growls. “I said no. Just...” He waved his hand at the med kit. “I need--”

“Okay, okay you masochist. Hold on.” Ripping open a field dressing with his teeth, Danny pulls out a large gauze pad. Hesitating, he locks eyes with Steve, both of them breathing like they'd run a marathon. “This is really going to hurt.”

Danny presses the dressing against the wound and Steve gnashes his teeth to keep the scream at bay. Choo-chooing for air, he balls his fists as Danny wraps the gauze a few times around his middle.

“Almost done, man, promise.”

Danny actually sounds sick to his stomach and when Steve opens his eyes he thinks his partner shouldn't be that white. “There's duct tape in my pack...I need you to secure the dressing tighter.”

“Excuse me?” Danny wipes away the sweat at his brow. “Are you delirious? I was only kidding earlier about the--”

Steve reaches for his pack and Danny jerks it out of his hand. “What's the matter with you? You're like Grace when she's being belligerent, which is a rare occasion mind you, but she does have her moments.” Finding the tape, he looks at it with disdain. “I can't believe I'm even considering this.”

“It'll help keep the bleeding under control while I move around.”

“Move? You're staying right here while I--”

“Get help? We're the rescue team and we still have two teammates depending on us. I know my limitations, Danny.”

“You have a hole in your gut! Bullets don't make nice, neat wounds. They bounce around inside you like pinballs!” Danny's teetering on the edge, body visibly trembling.

“Kono and Chin--”

“And what are you going to do? Pull out your Superman cape and fly? You may think you're the Man of Steel, but you bleed like the rest of us.”

Danny's right and Steve knows it. But it takes another man to help his buddy off the battlefield. That's why you're taught to wound people in war. It uses manpower and resources. Steve can't be that hindrance, it's irresponsible to try continuing on wounded at Danny’s side. But he can't allow his partner to go it alone. “Look...”

Before Steve completes his sentence, the jungle rocks with an explosion.

Scrambling to his feet, Danny stares off into the darkness. “God, what now?”

“That was the grenade trap,” Steve hisses, trying and failing to get to his feet. “We've got like two minutes before--

“Don't say it. You're like a bad self-fulfilling prophecy,” Danny complains, grabbing Steve's pack and rifle. Then planting a shoulder under Steve's armpit, he hauls him up. “Okay, this is where you prove me wrong, right? That you're really Wolverine and you have secret healing powers?”

There's a pleading quality to his partner’s voice and it takes every last ounce of energy not to cry out as Steve is brought to his feet. “Yeah,” he grunts, making sure he can stand on his own, taking his weapon. Control. Gain control. “Let's move.”

----

It feels like someone's stabbing him with a knife. Over and over and over again. Danny's right. Steve's been taught to endure torture. He learned to pay attention to an interrogator's questions. Focus how to respond to their words, not the pain. But nothing can prepare you for physical trauma. He's severely light-headed and his hands won't stop shaking. But all he can do is concentrate on walking with the invisible knife twisting inside him.

Vines and flowers slap their faces and Steve stumbles over a tree root, Danny grabbing his arm to keep him from falling. Tromping through the vegetation sends birds and critters fleeing, turning their alarm system against them.

He and Danny keep moving, keep listening for signs of their pursuers. They can't be that far from the camp. Steve pulls out his GPS, checking the map. The lines blur together.

Focus McGarrett.

If they fail, Kono and Chin are dead.

“You holding up okay?” Danny asks, walking so closely their shoulders bump.

“Yeah, I'm good.”

“You're a horrible liar.”

That’s one of the traits Steve likes best about Danny; he never sugarcoats things. “We should locate the trail again.”

“Would that be the dirt path we just stepped on?” Danny asks, looking at him with concern.

Steve's boots crunch onto the rocky soil and he stands there, dumbly wondering when that happened.

More shooting erupts and it's Danny shoving Steve into the earth and wet grass. Rolling onto his back is instinct and Steve fires blindly into the darkness.

Danny's next to him, adding to the counter fire before his AK finally clicks empty. Cursing, he tosses it to the ground and pulls out his Sig. Arms straining, he aims side to side, searching for a target.

There's more gunfire, but this time it's not aimed in their direction. New shots are fired, forming a mini-exchange off in the distance.

Then the brush falls deathly silent, Danny and Steve's raspy breaths the only source of noise.

“What now?” Danny whispers.

Did the mercenaries turn on each other?

Steve forces himself to his feet, the world spinning. Arm bracing his side, he uses a nearby tree to stand. “Don't know.”

“This is Kono Kalakaua of 5-0, identify yourself!”

Steve can't believe his ears.

Danny's caught between laughing and crying. “That would be your partners in insanity! Williams and McGarrett!”

There's a lull, followed by scrambling in the thicket. Kono and Chin emerge slack-jawed and wired with adrenaline.

“Holy crap!” Danny laughs both stunned and relieved. “Thank God.”

Kono runs over first, face streaked and plastered with dirt. “I knew it!”

Chin's more cautious, stepping closer, eyes inspecting every hidden angle. When he's within inches of Danny he engulfs him in a giant hug. “Good to see you, bro.”

“How the hell did you guys escape?” Danny asks, smiling like a goof.

Pulling from his embrace, Chin nods at Steve and Danny. “As soon as we heard World War Three break out, we knew something was going on.”

“I found a rock sharp enough to cut through my ropes and gave it to Cuz here. We could tell something was going on when fewer of the guys in the camp came back from patrols,” Kono tells them, keeping an eye on the jungle. “Then we heard the explosions.”

“And that was our cue to make a break,” Chin adds. “We took out our two guards and started heading toward all the noise.”

“Should’ve guessed the boss was behind it all,” Kono grins. “So, where's everyone else?”

“Um, we're it,” Danny coughs. “Super SEAL decided to reenact D-Day on his own.”

Kono and Chin both look awe-struck, standing there at a loss for words.

Steve's dizzy in relief, a lopsided grin on his face. He allows a second to bask in finding his friends, taking it all in, before reality sinks in. “What about the missiles?”

“They were all loaded into a flatbed truck,” Chin tells them, his face breaking into a mischievous grin. “I might’ve put bullets into all its tires when we made our run.”

“That's awesome,” Steve whispers, like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders.

Chin's staring at him. Realization finally clicking, his eyes pass over Steve’s form. His face blanches when he sees the rapidly spreading stain on Steve’s cargo pants. “Is that your blood?”

Kono steps closer, eyes skating down at the growing dark stain. “Boss?”

Steve doesn't answer them, tries to give Kono a reassuring smile that fails miserably. “Danny,” he rasps. “Remember...when I said I knew my limits?”

Danny grabs Steve by the front of his vest, trying to hold onto him as he sways drunkenly. “Steven?”

“I think I've reached 'em.”

His legs buckle and Danny has him, wrapping both arms around his shoulders. “Easy. Easy. I've got you.”

Steve gives in, allows Danny to hold him up, the rest of his body crumpling beneath him. Danny takes Steve's weight, slowly easing him to the ground. His stomach is rolling and Steve cranes his neck to see what's going on. Danny pulls back the flaps to his vest again, revealing a bandage soaked through with blood.

“Kono could you take this pack off me?” Danny asks her. “There's a med kit inside and duct tape. Find the duct tape.”

There's a rustling of noise and Kono's suddenly at Steve's left side, handing over the kit, eyes wide and scared. “What happened?”

“He was shot,” Danny answers, tearing open another dressing.

“You shouldn't have kept searching for us,” Chin admonishes Danny.

“We weren't going to stop looking for you and Kono. Besides, the bad guys were on us,” Danny growls, obviously not in the mood to argue.

Steve claws at the ground as Danny takes the second bandage and applies it to the first one. It hurts like hell; the invisible knife is now burrowing deeper into his flesh. He fights not to pass out and clings to consciousness, holding on to the bits of conversation going on all around him.

“But we took care of the guys coming after you,” Kono says, voice faltering. “That can't leave too many others. Right?”

Danny starts adding a layer of duct tape and Steve's world blurs into a series of white hot fireworks.

“How many did you guys take out?” Chin asks.

“Eight,” Steve tells them, instincts overriding all other brain impulses.

“No talking,” Danny orders him. “I'm doing all the talking.”

“We knocked out three at the camp,” Chin fills them in. “That leaves three or four more, depending if we saw everyone in the operation.”

“Okay, let me think,” Danny says, rubbing at his forehead. “Steve, what was your plan once you found us?”

“Radio for an extraction.”

“Radio?” Danny sing-songs. “That's great. How about doing that now so we can all get out of here?”

Steve's arms feel like taffy, his fingers fat and heavy. He struggles with one of the pockets on his vest; Danny finally bats away his hand and digs the radio out for him.

“Okay, now we're talking!” Danny says as he lifts free the radio. His expression immediately falls flat and he groans. “Except it's got a bullet hole in it...Damn it! Wait, what about the one you got off that goon?”

“It's cheap...doesn't have military channels.” Steve licks his dry lips in thought. “Leave me here,” he tells them. It's the most strategic move they have. “Go down to the beach and find a way to signal for back-up.”

“Excuse me, you are obviously delirious; that's not gonna happen,” Danny snarls.

“The quicker reinforcements arrive, the quicker this will all be over,” Steve argues.

“I might not’ve gone to SEAL school, but I do know that you guys don't leave each other behind.” Danny leans over, squeezing Steve's shoulder. “We're your team now, remember?”

“You stay, we stay,” Kono says.

“Damn straight,” Chin echoes, staring at Steve, silently daring him to argue.

Steve doesn't have the energy to fight, so he just nods in acquiescence and closes his eyes as a wave of nausea washes over him.

This triggers some type of panic-mode in Danny, because his voice goes up an octave and he begins snapping his fingers. “No, no falling asleep!” he demands. Steve's eyelids snap open as he feels Danny's fingers on his neck. “Do you always have to go all out on everything? A hummingbird’s pulse has got nothing on yours right now.”

Nearly ripping apart the med kit, Danny doesn't stop talking. “I'm giving you one of these morphine shots. Before you start your yammering, I'm going to be carrying you over my back like a sack of potatoes because you're not walking, end of story. And it's going to hurt like a bitch, so do me a favor and be quiet.”

Despite his big preamble, Danny holds the ampoule up, waiting for Steve's permission.

But there's more to it than just accepting the morphine. Steve looks to Chin and Kono, finally resting his eyes on Danny. “Do it.”

---

The jungle is a swath of green brushstrokes, flowers glowing with pink and yellow halos. Every rainforest has a different scent, from sickly sweet to festering rot. Home smells like fresh rain and sand, but all he breathes is blood and sweat. The odor is overwhelming and he tries not to gag, squeezing his eyes closed against the bouncing ground below.

Crickets, flies, birds. Noises pan in and out with other voices.

“You want to take a break? I'll take McGarrett for a while.”

“No, I'm good.”

“You sure, Danny? You look kind of tired.”

“I've got him.”

Steve hears the flapping of wings take to the sky, his muddled brain going on high alert. He tries to shout out a warning, but Danny's already yelling, “Down!”

The air moves and Steve's on the musty ground, automatic fire erupting seconds later. He reaches for his gun, hand trembling so bad that he can't get his finger around the trigger. The weapon wobbles weakly in his grip and he grabs it with both hands to keep it steady.

Rata tat tat!

He swings the gun in the direction of the noise, sweat pouring down his face.

“Steve! It's okay.”

Slender fingers easily push his hands down, pulling the gun from his shaky grasp, Kono's face swimming into view. “I've got you covered, boss. Chin and Danny are taking care of things,” she tells him, inching away, listening to the darkness.

The whole front of Steve's cargo pants looks wet and when he presses his hand over the duct tape it comes away sticky. There's more shooting and he instinctively tries pushing himself into a sitting position but his body refuses.

“Hey. What did I tell you? We've got this,” Kono tells him, stepping back and crouching by his side.

She’s scared as hell, eyes flicking back and forth between the blackness and Steve. But Kono’s holding her ground and Steve’s chest fills with warmth despite a sudden onset of chills.

An AK echoes in the distance and Kono moves directly in front of Steve, shielding him. He thinks about his knife tucked away in his vest, but he doesn’t go for it. He knows he doesn't have to pull it out. Kono has his back and those goons are no match against Chin and Danny.

They’re protecting him because that's what teams do for one another.

The realization hits Steve—hard. A wash of emotion so intense it takes his breath away. He’s always been the one to take the risks, to go all out. Willing to lay it all on the line. For God and country. In the SEALS it was all about the team, about the mission. There was nothing else.

But Steve has more to life now.

An eerie silence slowly descends around them, the reports of gunfire dying away.

Kono tenses, training her weapon, eyes scanning before her body slowly relaxes. Turning with a smile, she places a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “Danny and Chin are coming.”

Steve wants to say something, but nothing makes it past his throat. It takes an unfathomable amount of effort to move his hand again but he grabs Kono's, squeezing hers.

She squeezes back, eyes widening when she looks down at her red-stained fingers. Face frantic, her lips begin to move, but any words are lost in the sudden buzzing in Steve's head.

--

Images of a warehouse swirl in his head, flashes of muzzle fire, his team under threat.

“Get down!” Steve yells.

Men climb the stairs to the second level and Steve chases after them, but he's too late as they open fire at his friends.

“No!” Steve screams.

“Sssssshhhhhh. Take it easy,” a voice tells him.

Steve's eyes fly open and he finds himself upside down and he starts thrashing.

“Calm down,” someone says. But Steve only fights harder. “Okay, okay, we're stopping. We're close enough.”

Steve is settled into a blanket of warm sand, his heart trying to saw through his chest.

“Steve! Take it easy. Do you hear me?”

“Danny?” Steve pants, his partner’s face a blob of flushed cheeks and panic.

“Yeah. Would you mind not screaming your head off, please?”

It's like his brain is swimming in oatmeal and Steve repeats, “Danny.”

“Yes, we already established who I am,” Danny says, lowering himself onto the beach next to him. “But maybe you could take a second to relax? Remember how to breathe like a normal human?”

The sarcasm has a grounding effect and Steve focuses on Danny's voice, on the slow delivery of each word.

“There you go. Inhale. Exhale,” Danny chants. “That's it. Now maybe you could stop digging your fingers into my arms? It kind of hurts.”

Steve doesn't remembering grabbing them and it takes a lot of focus to get his fingers to release their death-grip before letting his hands fall limply by his sides.

“You're going to be okay. You understand me? The morphine's making you a little goofy that's all,” Danny tells him, pulling Steve over, cushioning his head against Danny's leg.

Steve looks up at the bright blue sky, tastes the salt in the air. His chest is heaving like he’s swum for five miles and he tries to reign in his body’s struggle for oxygen.

Danny places a hand over Steve’s racing heart, grounding him like an anchor. “Take it easy. Everything’s under control because I have a plan,” he declares, pulling out the grenade Steve had given him earlier. “Who needs a flare gun when you have one of these?”

A giant smile spreads across Steve’s face. “That's beautiful, Danno.”

“Yeah, I knew your twisted mind could appreciate the overkill.”

Chin and Kono come over, Kono kneeling next Steve, grabbing his wrist.

Taking the grenade from Danny, Chin nods at the slapping waves. “I'll go hail our ride.”

With the ocean breeze blowing over his face, Steve closes his eyes, drawing on the strength of his team to get him over this final hurdle.

-----

The noise of chopper blades morph into shouts of orders, desperate voices dulling into soothing ones. Then everything descends into a placid calm, like the silence beneath the ocean. But the tranquility doesn't last long and Steve slowly returns to consciousness. Opening gritty eyes, he awakens to humming equipment and a horrible headache.

“I heard you groan. Are you finally awake?”

“Define awake,” Steve mumbles, wanting to scratch at the cannula in his nose.

“Something you haven't been in almost twelve hours.”

Turning his head takes forever and Steve finally gets his neck to cooperate, settling on Danny's blood-shot eyes and wrinkled t-shirt. “You look like crap.”

“You're not winning any beauty contests anytime soon. Perhaps a carnival freak show,” Danny says, motioning at the various IVs and other tubes snaking out from under Steve's sheets. “Of course that hasn't stopped the number of nurses stopping by to 'check on the machines'.”

Steve rolls his eyes, the only movement he's capable of. “When do I...” he has to take a deep pull on his oxygen as the room spins.

“Will you just take it easy? You were in surgery for the longest five hours of my life while all the king's men sewed up your insides. You're stuck in that bed for the foreseeable future and in the hurt locker for at least a month.”

“What about the--”

“I tell you what, since you have such a one-track mind, how about I answer all your questions before you ask them. The missiles were recovered during the raid. Navy special forces took the island and intercepted the ship on its way to pick them up.”

Opening his eyes, Steve stares at Danny in amusement as his partner rails on.

“There are three men in custody and that Parks and Recreation agent was picked up this morning. You killed the ringleader, he was that sniper in the trees. But the others are singing like canaries. NCIS kind of took over, but since they saved our bacon. Who cares.” Easing into the ugly green chair, Danny's voice loses some of its bluster. “The bad guys have all been booked. End of story. I would really love never to have to think back on the last two days if you don't mind.”

Mission accomplished. Except things are not that simple anymore. Steve's not supposed to erase what took place to make room for the next time. This is his new world and his actions have consequences.

Wetting his lips, he struggles to find the right words, but Danny starts talking. “I wanted to thank you and before you shrug it off, listen to me.” Danny who always knows what to say, struggles with his thoughts. “I always give you a hard time for your recklessness and your tendency to act like a maniac. That you're not hunting terrorists or warlords anymore. Don't get me wrong, you need therapy, but if you weren’t you Grace wouldn't have a father and Chin and Kono would be dead.”

It's not just the narcotics that mess with Steve's ability to speak and he clears his throat to hide the fact.

“You came for us,” Danny continues, voice thick. “Staged a one-man assault. And from what I heard, you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“I only got part way. You, Kono and Chin, brought me back,” Steve tells him.

Leaning closer on the railing, Danny's voice breaks a little. “What I'm trying to say is, and I don't believe it. But, don't ever change, Steven.”

With his eyes getting heavy, Steve gives Danny a smile. “A little change, goes a long way. The only easy day is yesterday, Danno.”

------

fini

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Feedback is always appreciated.

**Title from a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson

"The only easy day is yesterday." -SEAL motto