A/N: Not sure where this came from – maybe just frustration that we don't get to see Danny's talents (er...body!) enough. Also, I'm sure there's going to be a moment with Danny in the water before the end of the season and I felt a need to get in there first with a version of my own...

Disclaimer: Don't own it, won't benefit.

HIDDEN TALENTS

The impact was definitely satisfying. From a height of eight feet, one body landing upon another is likely to result in a solid blow. In fact, Steve was counting on it as he threw himself from the stack of containers that loomed over the walkway below, to send his target sprawling - crashing forwards onto his chest and face. Having had a softer landing, Steve was up immediately and, in one quick, fluid movement, kicked away the Sig automatic that flew from the man's flailing grip. Scrabbling to regain his feet, his opponent rose quickly to his knees only to be greeted by the wrong end of Steve's own weapon, held a steady six inches from his bloodied nose. Steve watched the fight leach from the gray eyes as the man's hands, torn up by splinters from the uneven boards of the jetty, were raised slowly to shoulder height in submission.

"Good call," Steve praised, as he grabbed the guy's right arm and hauled him sideways towards a mooring ring. Feeding his cuffs through the metal he snapped them closed around now submissive wrists before running his hands over the man's frame to check for further weapons and then leaning closer to growl into his ear.

"Do not move." The man shrank away from the low voice and settled uncomfortably onto his backside with an air of sullen resignation.

Turning away, Steve scanned the dockside behind him. His 200 meter sprint had been the result of a split second assessment as he and Danny spilled from their car following a high speed chase through busy downtown streets. Danny's familiar expletives over his driving skills still sounded as the two men had flung open their doors and, in unspoken agreement, taken off with guns drawn in opposite directions.

Three bank raiders, two pursuers – it was never going to be easy and even as he had chased his own man down Steve had registered a gunshot behind him and raised voices that were quickly lost in the rush of his successful capture. Now though, as he pounded back the way he'd come, Steve felt the early knots of anxiety when he realized his partner was nowhere in sight.

The jetty rose up steeply from the water's edge to the dockside and as he approached the top, a flash of white drew his eye to the long pier sticking out into the bay ahead.

Danny was sprinting down the length of the walkway, arms pumping, loose shirt billowing and blond hair flying as he raced towards the end. Steve couldn't seen the target of his efforts but from the pace of his thudding feet he sensed his desperation.

Following his partner at a distance, a small group of people were pointing and shouting. As his brain tried to assimilate the scene ahead, Steve tore passed a middle aged couple loaded down with bags, blankets and a cooler, frozen en route to their planned afternoon on the water. They too were watching the chase but, as he ran on, Steve heard the wife gasp in horror. "He's got a kid. Did you see, they grabbed a little boy. They've taken him...they're going to get away."

The roar of an engine filled the small bay and an aged day cruiser loomed out from the far side of the pier, its bow already lifting a little from the water as it nosed out towards the open sea. On its deck, silhouetted against the sparkling brightness, Steve could make out the shimmering outline of a man holding a child against his chest. Beck. His size and shape were clearly identifiable as those of the gang leader they'd been chasing. Brutal and vicious, the task force had been watching him and his men for days before the latest raid. Now he stood looking back at the dock and was raising a gun in the direction of Danny's rapid approach.

"Danny!" Steve bellowed his warning even as he heard the wayward shot ping a ricochet and then watched, awestruck, as his partner reached the end of the pier and without breaking his pace, launched himself into a perfect dive from the wooden structure into the water below. Streamlined, extended...a racing dive that caused barely splash.

Steve's heart jolted in shock. So surprised, he halted in his stride and held his breath as though it was he who had just plunged into the waves. A moment later he saw Danny's head break through the surface as he started a powerful overarm stroke in pursuit of the boat as it pulled away.

With no time to further consider what he could hardly understand, Steve spun around to the now slack-jawed couple as they stared over at the unfolding drama. Glancing down at a bunch of keys in the man's hand, he gestured at the small launch moored beneath them. "That your boat?" The man turned his surprised gaze towards him. Steve stepped closer and yelled his urgency. "I said, is that your boat?" "Yea...Yeah," the man stammered.

Steve reached out and grabbed the keys from his lax fingers. "Five-0 requisition," he called as he bent to release the mooring rope from a stubby bollard at the couple's feet. Ignoring the quayside ladder that led to the water, he instead leapt down onto the varnished deck below.

The boat bucked with his hard landing but he kept his balance and immediately threw himself to the small cockpit, slamming the ignition key into place and thrusting the throttle up hard.

The Hawaii Princess had never been treated so harshly. The little motor boat was used to gentle putterings around the coastline – never too far out to sea, never roughly handled in case her paint was chipped or the cocktails of her elderly owners were spilled. Now though she responded quickly and Steve felt the power surge as he whipped the wheel to the left, gunned the engine and headed off in the direction he'd last seen his partner...in the sea! Steve still couldn't quite believe it.

Danny swam hard with his head above water, building a powerful rhythm that pulled him through the gentle swell. His hands sliced through the water and his strong reach set up a smooth pace.

He knew he would be faster if he allowed himself to adopt a true racing style, with his face in the water and the trained breathing he knew so well, but he also knew, if he took his eyes off the boat, he might miss the moment he feared was sure to come. He couldn't risk missing where they dumped the kid as he knew they would.

He'd seen the two men grab the child as the boy gazed down, giggling, at the fish that drifted in kaleidoscope shoals beneath the pier's pilings. He'd heard the scream when they snatched him away from his family as they ambled along in the sunshine. The kid was simply a means to the mens' escape, a hostage against the threat of Danny's pursuit, but such cold, professional criminals wouldn't hesitate to get rid of him when they were far enough away.

As Danny approached the end of the pier his breaths had panted out a staccato beat of "NoNoNo" that matched his pounding footsteps and, as he took a breath and dove into the sea, his only thoughts were of saving the child.

Steve rounded the end of the pier and spotted the other boat some 800 meters away with Danny ploughing on through its wake. It was not a fast boat and optimism kicked in as he saw it should be possible to close the gap. But in the same moment Beck's head came up and Steve knew he'd been spotted. The guy's body stiffened and he pulled the child around to face Steve directly. From this distance he couldn't see the child's face but winced at the brutality as he was hauled about like a rag doll.

Beck turned his head to speak to the man driving the boat, then back towards the threat that followed them. Steve could only watch in horror as he hoisted the kid up high like a trophy then swung him around. Skinny splayed legs waved in the air like a fairground ride and then cartwheeled crazily as the boy was flung overboard like a fisherman's net cast out into the sea. His high scream of terror cut off abruptly as he disappeared underwater.

Danny saw the splash as the child hit the water, sinking immediately before spluttering to the surface with arms reaching up, desperate fingers clasping only at air. The dark head bobbed under, then back up again, gasping and crying. Once. Twice. Danny's vision tunneled to the panicked splashing. Beck's boat was pulling away but Danny barely noticed as he kicked on harder.

"NoNoNo!" The mantra rang in his head as he drew near, only to see the water close over the boy's head with no further struggle. It didn't reappear and fear gripped at Danny's heart as he realized he was still too far away.

From his distance behind, Steve also saw the boy go under, then watched Danny's desperate last strokes and his dive to where the rippling surface enveloped the young life.

Steve willed his boat on, fighting the horrified dread that he could not reach the scene in time.

Danny went down at the spot he'd last seen the boy. His clothing dragged against his strong pulls. His wide eyes stung with the salt and through the blurred green wash he could see nothing. Casting left and right for any sign of movement or for a glimpse of the red t-shirt the boy wore, he felt his lungs straining, then burning, and in despair turned towards the surface, breaking through with a whooping gulp for air.

A moment later he piked again into another dive and forced himself down once more.

Steve saw his partner pop up like a champagne cork, the sweeping arc of his blond hair throwing up a plume of jeweled droplets as he flung back his head to suck in oxygen before disappearing again.

Unconsciously he counted as he closed the remaining distance.

Ten seconds.

Twenty seconds.

He slowed the boat as he approached the spot.

Thirty seconds. .

He cut the throttle and turned to launch himself into the water too.

Forty seconds.

One foot on the side.

Fifty seconds.

A minute...

A geyser-like eruption ten meters ahead alerted him to Danny's return to the surface. Amidst the churning water he saw a small limp body clutched firmly to his partner's chest. The boy's head lolled back against Danny's neck as he used one arm to hold him higher while the other worked furiously to keep them both up.

Reaching into the cockpit, Steve gave one quick nudge to the throttle and deftly brought the boat to Danny's side. Leaning out as the vessel drifted closer, he scooped the child out of Danny's arms and, in a reverse replay of the moments before, hauled the boy's body up, landing it into the boat like a slippery fish.

His lips were blue, his eyes closed. Thin, limp limbs lay boneless on the smooth teak. Steve registered he could only be about seven years old. A life barely begun, now ended.

He lifted the chin to tilt the white face back, quickly feeling for a pulse in the stretched throat...nothing. He clamped his mouth to the boy's and blew two quick breaths, feeling the child's cheeks puff out as he received them. Expertly, he began compressions on the bony chest, barely registering the wild tilt of the boat as Danny hauled himself up and over the side to roll, exhausted, onto the cushioned bench seat behind him.

"Come on...come on...come on...come on..." Danny's whispered pleas filtered into the gentle throbbing chugs of the idling engine. He felt helpless now. Frozen in his failure. An ache gripped at his wildly beating heart. His chest heaved against the vice-like pressure of his fears, as his mind blanked out everything but the tragedy before him.

Two more breaths. Thirty more compressions.

Then finally, blessedly, a fountain of water shot from the boy's mouth. With a strangled cry he arched back into spluttering coughs and sobs.

Danny moved forward and quickly grabbed the bony shoulders to sit him up as more water spewed out. "That's it...that's it..you're OK now...you're gonna be OK," he crooned as he held the back of the child's head. Reaching back he snatched up a thick blue towel from the side and threw it around the boy. Steve relinquished his own hold and made room for his partner to wrap the child in his arms, lifting him up onto his lap and hunching around him in a hug.

Sitting back on his haunches, Steve watched as Danny soothed the child, rubbing his back and arms, looking into his face and encouraging him with quiet words. He could see Danny needed this as badly as the boy. The tension was leaving his friend's handsome face as the little body snuggled into a father's experienced embrace.

As the sobs subsided and the boy's struggles quietened, Danny eventually looked up. His hair, normally swept back, now hung down madly but, from under the tousled wet curtain, blue eyes shone brightly with relief and happiness. Smiling broadly, he nodded down at the boy. "Says his name's Dillon and I think he wants to go home now."

In that moment Steve wanted to hug the pair of them. Instead he gently lay a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Sure thing, Dillon. Let's go!"

His eyes met Danny's then, taking in the shirt, opened to the waist and plastered to his solid muscular frame. His much derided tie was, amazingly, still in place, although pulled way down and far askew. At least he'd lost his despised loafers and he sat now in a growing puddle. The effort of the swim and the stress of the rescue had left him still panting and racked by occasional shivers as his adrenalin levels moderated and he slowly fought to bring his emotions and exhaustion into check.

Steve shook his head, and rolled his eyes in disbelief.

"What?" Danny demanded, wrapping his arms tighter around the boy.

"What?" Steve was incredulous. Was his partner really going to pretend there wasn't anything to say here?

"Seriously? You're seriously going to say that to me?...what?"

"Don't start with me." Danny warned.

Steering the boat back towards the shore, Steve shook his head again and laughed aloud as the breeze sent Danny's hair flying. Still smiling, his brow furrowed into lines of utter disbelief.

"You said you couldn't swim!"

Danny raised a fore finger in a familiar wag of correction."No see, I never said I couldn't swim …I just said I choose not to."

Steve couldn't believe he was going to pretend this was no big thing. "Come on!" He cried in exasperation. "You call me Aqua Man...you never do anything but bitch about getting wet, making like you would dissolve in water, and then you pull something like that. You were like Michael Phelps out there!"

Danny ran frustrated fingers through his wayward quiff in a vain attempt to train it back into shape, then turned to his young charge with a conspiratorial and superior air.

"See Dillon...this guy here just can't stand not knowing everything. About everyone. This guy," he repeated with a hand gesture at his friend, "he thinks just 'cos he's my boss, I should have to tell him my entire history of athletic achievements...which are, in fact, many." He looked up at Steve with a smirk. "We do have water in New Jersey you know."

Steve laughed at the absurdity of it. "Yeah, water with garbage floating in it, no doubt."

"Hey! What do you know? At least it's not pineapples."

"What?" Steve cast an arm at the blue waters. "Where are the pineapples...show me the pineapples out here!"

"Oh they're there alright...floating under the surface or something. Along with the sharks. It just ain't safe here!"

Steve knew it was hopeless. His partner would never accept the superiority of Hawaii's natural beauty over his beloved home state. At least, he'd never admit it.

Looking towards the pier, he pointed at the group that were gathered there. "Hey Dillon, looks like your Mom's waiting for you." The boy's face split into a wide smile and he wiggled his arms free of the towel cocoon to wave excitedly as Danny sat back with a mega-watt smile of his own.

Within fifteen minutes of landing Dillon had been whisked away in an ambulance to be checked over in hospital. His mother had dissolved into tears of gratitude and relief as Danny handed him up to her waiting embrace, waving away the thanks and doing his best to hide from the claims of heroism. He promised he'd check up on Dillon later. "After we go get the bad guys," he called with a wink and a wave.

Uniformed cops from HPD had released Steve's prisoner from the mooring and taken him away to be booked. The coastguard had tracked Beck's stolen escape boat to a bay four miles to the east and Kono and Chin were already on their way to pick up the trail. Steve longed for the chance to meet Beck face to face. Five-0 would be bringing that bastard down.

Danny leant against the car now, bare feet crossed nonchalantly at the ankles, as the warmth of the sun dried his clothes on his body. He wasn't about to admit it to anyone but his muscles were aching from the earlier exertion. It was a lot of years since he'd swum that hard and although high school team training might mean you never forget the skill, the swimming he did now - in a bay near his apartment, but only when he knew none of his team would be around - had not fully prepared him for such a challenge.

Steve approached and smiled at the sight of him. "You know you look like a surfer dude with that hair." He reached over to flick affectionately at the salt stiffened strands.

"Hey!" Danny smacked the hand away and pushed off from the car, while still trying to tame the wild look. He moved towards the door and, with arms gesturing expansively, fixed his partner with a look of supreme defiance. "Laugh it up, man...for my next trick I'm planning on challenging Kono at Pipeline."

Steve grinned and clapped him on the back...Yeah, he wouldn't put anything past him... "Finally Brah! We just might make a native of you yet!"