Don't own H50, just a heart that loves it and an imagination.

There are moments when he can't find him.

Moments where he's there one minute and gone the next, and Danny does his best not to compare himself to those frightened people that jump at shadows in the dark, but it's such a rapid disappearance that he starts to wonder if he was ever there at all.

The thing is, Danny knows he was and maybe that's the reason why he vanishes. He's heard that if enough people believe in something, it'll become truth and maybe that's why he does his best to hide, so people won't believe it and make it true.

Some guys at HPD will tell him, "Guy's a damned Navy SEAL, through and through. In his blood, Williams, you can't take that out of him, ya know. Better quit while you're ahead," and they'll say it as if they're merely talking about a stain on his shirt.

Throw it away, it's ruined.

"Don't worry about it, Danno. You and Grace can stay with me until your apartment is fixed, alright? As long as you like," Steve reassures him as he reaches for the door handle of the Camaro to exit the car and by the time Danny follows suit, he looks over the hood to find McGarrett the Navy SEAL as if Uncle Steve couldn't possibly exist outside the confinements of a small space he can control.

"Danny, you ready? You're on me," McGarrett whispers over his shoulder, gun in a comfortable place between his hands and aimed.

Danny uncoils his left fingers from around his own weapon and taps Steve's shoulder in the affirmative response when he's in position behind him. Steve takes the first step forward and like every time before, it's only a split second after Danny's left hand finds his gun again and he follows him in.

He waits for the hand motion until he veers off to the left to take the hall, already knowing McGarrett's plan of action but giving his partner that sense of control before leaving him, even if Steve doesn't recognize it.

He's shouting, "Clear," before he can put his weapon at ease and point it towards the ground and he walks around the corner to see McGarrett do the same.

"He's not here, and from the looks of things, he never was," Danny says as both men glance around the gutted house with nothing more than peeling wallpaper hanging off the walls for decor. "Probably gave a fake address to our buddy in lock up in case something like this ever came up. Wouldn't get double crossed."

Steve says, "Yeah, maybe," like Danny can't already tell what he's thinking without looking at his face.

"But?" The detective encourages, trying to get his partner out of his head as much as possible.

"But I don't-" and whatever it was, Danny might not ever know because Steve drops off mid-sentence and shoves his partner with as much force as necessary to get him to the floor in record time before the sound of splintering glass and a gunshot reverberates around the empty house while Steve's body falls next to him with a moist thud.

Past memories of combat situations come back to Danny in flashes when he tries to recall them, like turning on a light bulb only to have it blow. He can see the one thing that scared him the most and when it fades to black it burns in a silhouette of orange until the sound of a gunshot instigates the next flash of memory, leaving his heart to hammer in between the shadows and that's exactly what it's doing now.

He doesn't remember getting to his knees, but he'll remember the sound of them slipping in Steve's blood for the rest of his life and he will always see perfectly round, crimson droplets splatter across a white-tiled floor while his hands splash against the pool of it as he tries to catch himself from falling over.

What he does after that burns in the flash and he thinks he can feel the ashes of it sting his eyes as he buries the base of his palms into searing eye sockets while waiting for the next flash of memory. He pushes against his eyes even harder when it comes, not because they sting more, but because he hopes he can burn that memory, too.

Steve's looking up at him with eyes half-mast like the flag they'll fly if Danny doesn't save him and Williams' feels his hands shake against a much more paralyzed chest when the only word McGarrett says is, "Danno," as if it makes up for the blood spilling between Danny's fingers.

It fades and the rivulets of crimson running in the creases of his skin sear into orange as he pulls his hands away in revulsion. He blinks at them, trying to rid himself of the silhouette, but it's stained in the lines on the back of his hands and when he turns them over, he finds that it's ruined his fingerprints, too.

He makes it to his feet despite the weight of the world trying to hold him down, and he's leaning against the bathroom sink when the next memory ruptures across his vision. His partner's eyes are still half-mast, but they can't track Danny anymore, can't focus on him no matter how many times he begs Steve to do and Danny slaps hims gently, smearing blood across his cheek as he does so, ordering him to, "Look at me, you stupid, son of a bitch. Don't do this!" But Steve does, and the memory dissolves so that Danny's heart can disfigure the inside of his chest.

He grasps the sides of the sink, feels his hands slip against the porcelain with a similar sound of his knees slipping in blood and it causes him to gag. He breathes through it, grips the sink hard enough his fingers crack, and looks at himself in the mirror. It's not a premeditated action, but it feels good when his knuckles break the glass in the dead center of his reflection. He wants to hit it again, wants to make it shatter into tiny microscopic pieces, but there's another hand that catches his fist, an arm that pushes him back against the wall and there's nothing he can do but give in.

He slides down the wall, feels that stinging in his eyes again and tries to rub them but the hand catches his once more as if that were its purpose from the start.

"Don't do that. You may have glass in your hand."

He doesn't have to open his eyes to know it's Chin, but he does anyway to watch him grab a paper towel and wet it in the sink before bending down in front of him and taking his hand again. He wipes at it, careful of any glass that could be imbedded, and makes about cleaning the cuts.

"Probably doesn't need stitches, but you'll have to get it bandaged before you can see Steve."

Danny's head collides with the wall when he jerks at the name and with a bleary gaze, he finds Chin grinning at him as if it were that easy to pick up the pieces, glass or not.

There are moments when he can't find him.

Moments where he's calling out, but hidden away like a small child in the back of a wardrobe, and Danny does his best not to compare himself with those preoccupied people that give up after only a few short minutes, but it's such a long search that he starts to wonder if he's even in the same place.

The thing is, Danny knows he is and maybe that's the reason why the detective keeps his vigil, because he knows that no matter how good a person is at hiding, they're always looking for someone to find them and set them free.

Some nurses tell him, "He's a fighter. It's in his blood and you can't take it out of him, that's for sure. Don't give up on him," and they'll say it as if they're talking about cracks in the most unbreakable things. It's just cracked, not broken.

But the cracks are deep and Danny watches them form in the middle of the night when Steve turns his sweat-dampened head into the pillow with a pitiful excuse of a frustrated growl between clenched teeth that chatter despite the heat from the fever. He twists his body as if he can bury himself away from whatever ails him, but it follows him because it's raging inside and he really makes a sound after that.

Danny does his best to let him hide without pulling the IVs and monitor lines, but he stops his partner by putting a hand on his head and warning him, "Don't go too far, Babe," and Danny hopes he knows he means that in more ways than one.

Steve blinks sluggishly at him, and it takes everything Danny has to hold the wavering gaze because it reminds him too much of the memory that got them here, but he finds Steve's searching hand and grasps it in his free one and waits for, "Danno?" because it always comes.

"Right here, buddy. I got you."

And for whatever reason, Steve settles after that like a kid in their favorite hiding place content with the thought of eventually being found.

There's a painting that hangs on the opposite wall of Steve's room in the ICU and Danny's stared at it for days trying to make sense of it. In the frame hangs a picture of a pitch black room only illuminated by the open crack in the door filled with light and in its radiance stands a small boy exiting the room.

On the fifth day, when the stubble on his jawline is in enough that it becomes too loud to scratch in the silence as a nurse checks to see if Steve's temperature has gone down from the infection, he clears his throat and asks, "What's with the painting?"

"What do you mean?" She asks, writing something down only after a quick glance at the picture behind her on the wall and it silently tells Danny she obviously doesn't see what he sees when looking at it.

"Nothing, nevermind," he waves off.

"If it bothers you, I can have someone take it down?" She ventures, not really sure whether he was making small talk or didn't like the painting.

"No. No, it's fine. How's my boy?"

"Stable. Temperature isn't going down, but it's not going up so that's good. The chest incision from surgery doesn't look as aggravated either. He's headed in the right direction."

"At the pace of a turtle, but I'll take my silver linings where I can get them," Danny says as he leans back in his chair while he watches the nurse exit.

But at the door, she turns and points to the wall, saying, "Like the painting," before she leaves.

He stares at the picture, finally seeing the silver lining symbolized in the beam of light in the dark, but suddenly he can't help but feel that maybe it's a child hiding in the back of a wardrobe and somebody's finally found him to set him free.

"Danno?"

Eventually he'll give thought to the fact that it's the only word Steve seemed to remember when Kono mentions that it's the only one he's said since he got shot, but right now he only hears the unspoken question his partner wants to know every time he slogs his way through the drugs enough to be conscious.

"You got shot, remember? You're in the hospital, but you're going to be okay- well, I mean the doctors fixed the gunshot wound, but they told me they can't do anything about the preexisting mental conditions in which you, my bullet magnet friend, have," Danny answers while leaning over the bedrail and doing his best not to flail his arms as usual so that Steve has a chance of keeping focus on him.

Steve blinks at him once, then again, but the second time he does his eyes stay closed long enough that Danny thinks he's fallen asleep and the detective sits back in his chair with the intention of doing the same. However, as soon as he feels comfortable in the piece of furniture that's become his home for the past ten days, Steve calls him again.

"Danny."

He opens his eyes and stands so that he can lean over the bedrail once more. "Yeah, babe?"

Steve blinks, knuckles an eye, and seems to struggle to remember what he was going to say. Danny waits patiently through it all and he thinks Steve's found it, but the injured man seems to swallow it, instead.

"Hey, uh uh, I was almost asleep and got up for you so do me a favor and make it worth it. What is it?"

He squeezes McGarrett's hand and gives it a gentle shake to rouse him enough to speak when he starts to droop and he watches as Steve grins lethargically at him while mumbling, "Danno," like he's told Danny exactly what he wanted to hear, and Danny realizes it would've been worth it to stand even if he hadn't spoken at all.

There are moments when he can't find him.

Moments where he's completely lost in the dark, and Steve does his best not compare himself to those afraid of failing, but he feels so far away that he begins to wonder if he'll ever find him at all.

The thing is, Steve knows he will and maybe that's the reason he keeps calling out for Danny, because he's the last person he can remember seeing and every time he calls him, a tiny light appears in the dark and Steve starts to believe he's not as far away as he thought.

Some voices will say, "It's alright, Steve. You've done enough. You don't have to find him," and they'll say it as if they're talking about an ordinary object that can be replaced. Let it go, you'll find a better one.

But he can't let it go, can't let him go, because if he does, Danny will be in the dark forever and there's no one else to find him besides the voices that don't seem to care. So, he finds that little beam of light again and calls out for his partner and prays that he finds him this time because he's not sure he'll ever find that light again. There's an ache in his chest that pushes him back towards the darkness as if all his troubles were for nothing and it's the world's way of telling him he's failed Danny just like he abandoned Freddy.

It burns down deep, so much so it's raw in his throat like acid and he voices his displeasure at it all because he doesn't understand why he can try this hard and still lose.

" 'Ey, it's okay, Babe," and Steve completely stills because he wants to believe that it is, and when he feels pressure on his head and around his fingers, light breaks up the dark and he starts to believe that the darkest places can be the brightest.

He's seen him enough times to imagine what he looks like in this moment, so when the light blinds him he doesn't care. He thinks he squeezes the hand in his, but Danny doesn't react. He just keeps his vigil, keeps telling him, "I got you," and in that moment Steve realizes that he himself was the one that was lost and wanted to be found.

Steve pushes his fork around in the hospital food as he watches Danny, who's perched on the side of the bed by McGarrett's legs, eating unseasoned mashed potatoes like it's a beloved slice of pizza from his plate on the bed tray they both share as a table between them.

"You not hungry?" Danny asks around the white mush in his mouth, and Steve does his best not to gag. He shakes his head negatively and pushes the food back around, wishing he could actually sit down at a table in front of Kamekona's shrimp truck and eat decent food. "Come on, Babe, they're not ever going to let you leave if you keep up this diet. Hospital food is not that bad. I'm eating it."

Steve rolls his eyes and busies himself with taking a drink of water while Danny pokes at a piece of chicken curiously, then takes a bite. Steve knows his partner doesn't think he's paying attention and sees his partner do his best not to grimace while he chews.

"Not that bad, huh?" He asks while laughing, almost coughing on the water he's drinking.

"Take it easy on me, I'm eating it for your sake which by the way you don't even appreciate because you're over there building tiny replicas of military forts out of your food."

Steve grins, does, in fact, appreciate his partner not eating the food he knows Kamekona brought earlier, and relents, "Mahalo, brother, but the day I get out of here, we're eating at Kamekona's."

"You make it sound like you're in prison," Danny replies and takes a long sip of his drink, "But you got it, Buddy. Anything you want, alright?"

"You buying?"

"Am I- Am I buying? Let me tell you something, I only provide for three types of people in this world: myself, those directly related to me through blood such as my beautiful, amazing, perfect daughter, and last but not least, those of whom I would spend three weeks by a hospital bed for while eating this disgusting food just so that they might actually quit being stubborn enough to eat it like the kind nurse asked them to, so if you fit into that last category, then yes, my friend, I am buying you as much food from Kamekona's as you can possibly eat."

Steve grins and takes a bite of mashed potatoes.

It's four weeks, and they still won't release Steve due to a few setbacks from the infection. Despite still being sluggish, and at times completely out of it from walking the halls, he's ready to put up a fight, but Danny calms him down enough that he can talk to the nurse outside without having to worry if his partner will try to escape out the window.

It's takes a bit of persuading, and a lot of give and take, but he walks back to Steve's room an hour later pushing a wheelchair. "I know you like to drive but you'll have to settle with me pushing you down the hall in this bad boy for now," he says, and parks it next to the bed.

"Can I go home?"

"No, no you can't. Not yet, but!," Danny holds out a hand to stop the furious protests from starting again, "you're looking at a very persuasive guy here, and I pulled out my very best for you, so please just trust me and get in the chair, huh?"

It's a hassle, and Danny bends down next to Steve once he's in the wheelchair to make sure he isn't about to pass out and only when McGarrett's 'aneurysm face' disappears does the detective stand to push him out of the room.

He watches him closely, intending to keep his promise to the doctor that at the first sign of weariness he'll bring him back up to his room, but he enjoys seeing his partner more at ease than he has been the past four weeks.

Steve chews hungrily on the small bites of shrimp he takes from his plate and seems to melt with the taste and the heat of the sun shining down on them. "Thanks for this, Danno," he says, and it's Danny turn not to gag as Steve talks with food in his mouth and shovels more in.

"Hey, at least pretend to be a normal human being and quit eating like a Neanderthal. It's not going anywhere. Slow down. The last thing we need is for you to choke," Danny warns from across the small picnic table in the courtyard. "But you're welcome."

Steve smiles and makes a show of slowing down causing Danny to roll his eyes. "I wasn't just referring to just this. I mean...everything."

Danny nods, "I know, but don't thank me. You took a bullet for me, pushed me out of the way. I should be thanking you."

"Well, it's a nice sentiment coming from you, but I didn't push you out of the way so you could thank me."

"Oh no? You mean you got a better reason?"

"This would be reason enough," Steve says as he gestures with a hand between them, then does his best to hide a smirk, "I mean, you buying me food. I can get use to this."

"Get use to it? I think you lost some memories, Babe. I've been doing that for years, you cheapskate."

Steve had only lasted twenty-seven minutes outside, but their short trip was worth it because he kept saying, "Thank you," as he fell back asleep in his bed and Danny's pretty sure that it's the reason that Steve takes the next setback a little bit better than he would have before.

He keeps getting a little nauseous from time to time, and tonight hits him pretty hard. They've put new sheets on his bed and clothed him in clean patient attire by the time Danny's changed his own clothes and Steve's laying on his side struggling between staying awake to loathe himself for his sick spell in front of and on his partner or falling back asleep in that unknown oblivion he seems to be afraid of.

"Hey," Danny greets him quietly as he takes a seat in the chair next to the bed.

Steve swallows hard and blinks his eyes a couple of times to focus. "Hey."

"You, uh, you feel any better now?" Danny asks, and he prides himself for making it sound more casual than concerned.

Steve just nods as if he really can't muster up the energy to put on a facade of being his definition of 'fine' and Danny reaches out to grab his partner's arm and gives it a little shake. "Why don't you try and get some more sleep, huh?"

Steve closes his eyes as if he were merely waiting for permission and Danny leans back in his chair for the long haul once more, but his partner suddenly says, "Hey, Danny," and before the detective can reply, Steve continues, "Don't go anywhere."

Danny's sitting up and half way on his feet to promise him, "Never," but McGarrett adds, "I don't think I got your shoes last time. I just want to be thorough."

Danny sits back down with a laugh he actually feels and says, "If there is a next time, I'll do a better job at finding the trash can, so I'll know if you puke on my shoes on purpose, and I will kill you."

Steve just grins before falling asleep.

There are moments when he can't find him.

Moments where Danny will look to the ends of the Earth, and Steve does his best to be there, but sometimes he doesn't think that he should be.

The thing is, Danny seems to think otherwise, seems to believe that cracks in the most unbreakable things, in the most unbreakable people, make them worth more than anything whole, and maybe that's the reason Steve tries so hard to be found.

People will say, "One day, you two are going to kill each other," and they'll say it as if they're talking about two people who can't survive with or without each other, like brothers, because there are moments when Danny can't find him, but Steve knows it's okay to be lost.

AN: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.