Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and no profit, monetary or otherwise, was made through the writing of this.

A/N: I started writing this while listening to Tool's, "Right in Two," and ended it while listening to Counting Crows', "Mr. Jones" (I think) there were songs by Ella Fitzgerald, Chevelle, Michael Buble, Sister Hazel, etc, in between. This story is probably reflective of that, and is probably a bit scattered, which I hope works with the premise of it. Please forgive me the errors.

Sometimes Steve feels like he's two different people. He's never said anything about it to Danny. To anyone. Has always feared being labeled crazy.

And most of the time it's okay. He's gotten by. No one has caught on to the fact that, sometimes, he's two different people. Two minds trapped in a single body.

And Steve has a feeling that he'd have continued on to the end of his life without anyone being the wiser had Danny not wakened Steve's other half by almost dying. It's not Danny's fault. It's not anyone's fault, really.

If anything, it's the fault of the blood that's pooling around Danny's head. It's flowing freely from where the bullet's skimmed Danny's skull, creating a neat little furrow that runs from the base of Danny's skull to his temple.

Danny's not even conscious when Steve's other self comes to the fore, which, other than the time that Steve's mother had 'died', has never happened before. His other self has always been there, though, guiding, or lecturing Steve, threatening to take over if Steve didn't do the right thing.

He's taking over now, fascinated by the flow of blood, and the way that the pool reflects his face - the one that they both share - lips pressed together in a thin line, twisted in some kind of emotion that his other self doesn't understand. Steve tries to explain that it's worry and guilt and agony, but the other self's reaching out to touch Danny's hair, amazed at the silky feel of it, and how it seems to make the red of Danny's blood appear even redder than it is.

"What is this? How did this happen?" His voice echoes in his head, and Steve wonders if this is what it's always been like for his other self when he speaks. If his voice makes his other self as dizzy and sick as Steve feels.

"Danny's been shot, Steve. The paramedics are on their way." It's Kono, and she's laying a hand on Steve's shoulder, another is securing a pressure bandage to Danny's head - something that, had he been in charge of his own body, Steve would have done minutes ago.

Steve feels none of the comfort that she's giving him. His other self is there in his stead, taking over because it's Steve's fault that Danny's hurt, and that there's a river of blood flowing from his head.

"Steve?" Kono's voice is an echo in Steve's head, and he wants to push back into the front of his own mind so that he can answer her, but he can't. His other self won't let him. Won't let him get anyone else hurt, or put Danny in any more danger, or answer Kono. Won't let Steve talk, or think clearly.

"Hey, boss, are you okay?" Kono's voice is faint, and Steve can't feel the hand that she's got on his shoulder. He knows what it should feel like - light, yet strong and sure, a welcome weight - and misses it. Misses the blue of Danny's eyes, and the feel of his partner's calloused hand on the rare occasion that Danny had held his hand, given it a squeeze.

"You're an asshole," his other self says; the words come out rough like sandpaper. They're meant for Steve, but Kono hears them. She flinches, pulls her hand from Steve's shoulder, places it on top of her other hand. The flow of blood is starting to lessen, but Steve feels cold. Alone. Abandoned by himself.

"It looks like it's a flesh wound, maybe just a little deeper than that, and you know as well as I do how profusely head wounds bleed. Danny's going to be fine." Kono's words are matter of fact, her voice crisp and clear, as though she's rattling off facts about the weather, or their latest case. It makes Steve cringe, though his body shows none of that. His face is still a mask contorted in the pool of blood that reflects it.

"You're not getting anywhere near him again," Steve's other self says, words brittle and echoing in Steve's head. Kono's face is hard, but she doesn't stop the pressure that she's applying to Danny's head wound.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Kono asks, eyes filled with anger and what Steve thinks (hopes) might be worry.

"Nothing is wrong with me," his other self says, voice dripping with disdain. "Though it concerns me that you seem to be confused about who is the injured party here, you appear to be doing what's best for Danny, so I am not going to stop you."

"Boss?" Kono's frowning, and giving Steve a look that he knows his other self won't understand, but which he knows means that she's starting to become very concerned about him, and his less than normal reactions to what's happening. "Are you sure you're alright? You -"

"The paramedics are here," Steve's other self says, and he stands abruptly, taking their body away from Kono and Danny and out to the paramedics.

He's not had as much practice with Steve's body as his primary self has, and his movements are stiff and robotic. Steve hates this feeling of being trapped, unable to communicate with the outside world, his other self ignoring him, punishing him for his failures. Keeping him from Danny.

It's this other self that Danny, ensconced in hospital equipment, looking much smaller than he is, first sees when he opens his eyes, confusion marring his face, clouding his eyes. "Wh-h'pp'nd?"

Steve wants to move his hand and take Danny's. He can't. His other self sits stiffly in the chair, watches Danny with eyes that telegraph nothing of what Steve feels - fear, worry...love. His other self is even more of an ass than he is, Steve thinks. His other self doesn't acknowledge him at all, just stares down at Danny.

"You were shot. The bullet grazed your skull. I'm not surprised that you don't remember it yet. I can promise you that nothing like that will happen again," his other self says, and Steve wants to clench his fist and shake his hand at his other self, because, not only does he move like a fucking robot, he talks like one, too.

Steve remembers this from when he'd thought that his mother was dead. Remembers the feeling of being stuck in some kind of limbo, trapped in his own body, his own mind, unable to do anything with how he felt, a numbness as his other self took over.

Danny blinks up at him, at Steve's other self. Eyes glassy and filled with pain, and worry.

"Babe?" Danny's hand moves toward Steve's body's hand, and Steve wills his other self not to be a prick, to allow Danny to take their hand, even if he won't be able to feel it right now. Maybe if his other self can feel Danny's hand, he'll understand some of what he's been questioning about Steve's feelings for Danny. Maybe he'll let Steve come to the forefront again, let him give Danny some of the comfort that he needs.

"I'll get a doctor," his other self says, lips turning downward, and head tilting to the side when Danny's hand grips his. "It is -"

"Steven, the doctor can wait a minute," Danny says, eyes searching Steve's for something that Steve's other self can't even begin to understand.

Steve wonders if Danny will be able to find him, the real him, the usual him, within the eyes that he shares with his other self. If Danny will be able to see past what has taken over him, and know that Steve is there, too. Not just the shell of him.

"It is concerning that you did not seem to understand my simple explanation of your injury," Steve's other self says, and Steve wants to kick his other self. "You could be hemorrhaging, or there could be some damage to your brain that has gone undetected."

Danny's eyebrow quirks, and his frown deepens, and he pushes himself upright. He closes his eyes tight and bites his lip. Breathes slowly and deliberately in and out of his nose, and Steve tries to push the concern that he feels for his partner, the man that he realizes he loves, through to the faulty link that he and his other self share, because he realizes that Danny's hurt himself for him, again, which twists Steve up on the inside, because Danny always seems to be doing that kind of thing for him.

"Steve, babe." Danny's voice is weak, strained, and he's panting as though it hurts to breathe. "With all due respect, partner, cut the bullshit, and give the robot-Steve routine a rest. I thought we'd gotten past this."

"I...do not understand," his other self says, and Steve wishes he could return to Danny, kiss him like he's always wanted to, but has been too afraid to do.

Danny shakes his head, and goes whiter than a sheet. Steve panics, but his other self moves quickly, efficiently, helping Danny to lie down, and paging a doctor, and Steve moves into the background of his own mind as Danny's taken care of, doesn't hear whatever it is that his other self is saying to those who are taking care of Danny. He feels sick and dizzy, and like he's losing a battle that he'd never thought he'd actually have to fight, because, other than that one time, his other self has been content to co-exist with Steve, and remain in the background.

'You don't deserve him,' Steve's other self tells him, his voice is whisper soft as it brushes across Steve's mind. It's harsh, and full of venom, and Steve hates it. Hates the thought that his other self, whoever the hell he is, is right. Steve doesn't deserve Danny, but neither does his other self.

'Neither of us do,' Steve tells his other self, pushing himself out of the dark corners of his mind that he'd slipped into. 'I may not deserve him, but it's me, not you, that Danny needs.'

He can feel his other self's mocking laughter, and it makes him angry. When his other self pushes at him, trying to back him into that dark corner of his mind that he'd been banished to when Danny'd gotten shot, Steve pushes back, hard, slips into place just as Danny's eyes open.

It's dizzying, and Steve finds it hard to breathe. It feels like he's been sucker punched, and the only thing that keeps his knees from buckling is Danny's hand, overly warm, gripping his, helping Steve to remain in control of his own body.

"You back with me, Steve?" Danny asks, voice soft and understanding.

Steve doesn't trust his voice, nods, squeezes Danny's hand, and, before he can talk himself out of it, leans down and kisses Danny, pulling back when they both need air.

Swallowing, and trying to smile, Steve says, "I'm back, Danno."

Danny's smile is slow, but it lights up his eyes, and he squeezes Steve's hand, keeps him there, and makes him whole in a way that Steve's never been before, not even after he'd found his way back to the surface of his mind after his mother's faked death. Steve's other self fades into the background of his mind, and settles with a soft, satisfied sigh.

'It's about damn time,' his other self says, and, slightly hysterical, Steve almost laughs out loud.

"I-"

Danny shakes his head, winces, and waves off Steve's attempt to page the doctors again. "You don't have to say anything, babe," Danny says. "Just, promise me that when I'm able to bust out of this place, this," he raises their hands together, presses his lips to Steve's knuckles, "won't end."

Steve's heart thuds in his chest, and he can only nod, and blink in response.

Danny smiles. "Good, 'cause that was one hell of a kiss, and I'd like many more where that one came from, without the whole robot-Steven routine first, mind you."

"I can-" Steve clears his throat, looks down at where his hand and Danny's are joined. "I can do that...er, I mean, I think that my other sel...er, robot-Steve is -"

Danny tugs Steve down. "Shut up and kiss me before I change my mind."

Smiling, and hearing his other self chuckle, Steve complies, losing himself in the kiss, and not minding it one bit.