Danny Williams sat by the hospital bed and watched his husband, his soulmate, Steve McGarrett, die. Oh, he wasn't bleeding out, or having a heart attack, or gasping his last breath, but he was dying just the same, slowly slipping away.

Danny knew he should let go, but he couldn't. He wouldn't just be letting go of Steve, but of his own life. Sure, soulmates could live without each other—his ex-wife Rachel's soulmate had passed away 10 years ago, and she had gone on with her life just fine—but it was different with Steve and Danny. Their bond had always been stronger than any other soulmates Danny knew or had heard of. They'd always felt things more intensely. Any time one of them had been near death, the other had been out of their mind with worry, requiring heavy sedation more than once. Danny had even coded once when Steve had in surgery. Everyone knew when one went, so would the other.

Danny didn't know why he was holding on. He was 85 years old. He'd had a good life, a good career as a cop, a good family. Everyone always thought it would be Danny who would be ready to go first, not Steve. Steve was always so active; it seemed he would just keep going until he dropped. Even after retiring from Five-0, Steve had continued to act as security adviser to several governors, only retiring five years ago when he'd been forced. Danny, on the other hand, had retired at 65, content to be a grandfather and, later, a great-grandfather. It seemed he'd accomplished everything he wanted in life, everything he needed, so there should be nothing holding him back.

There was always something though—Grace's marriage, the birth of his grandkids, their weddings, the birth of his great-grandchild, and finally, his and Steve's 50th wedding anniversary. That was months ago, though, and Danny really couldn't think of anything else to live for. Steve had started slipping away soon after, and Danny knew he should follow, but he just couldn't.

Danny felt Steve grip his hand. "Danny," he gasped. "I need to go, please."

Tears filled Danny's eyes. "I know, Steve," Danny said. "It's just. . .it's hard to let go."

"I need you to," Steve begged. "Please," he said again.

"I'm sorry. It's just. . . I'm not ready." He knew he should, knew it was time, but he just couldn't take that last step.

Tears fell from his eyes, landing on Steve's cheeks. Danny knew why he couldn't let go; he was scared. Scared of losing Steve. He'd been raised Catholic, had the idea of an afterlife drilled into him, but he still wasn't sure he believed. He couldn't live without Steve, couldn't die without him, had to know they'd always be together, even in death. And he just didn't.

Steve slipped into semi-consciousness as the tears continued to fall. Steve looked so pale, his skin translucent, every vein showing. He'd lost so much weight Danny thought he could count every bone. Danny couldn't keep doing this to Steve, couldn't hold him here just because he was afraid.

Finally, Danny came to a decision. It was time. He had to trust that his religious teachings were right, that if there wasn't heaven, there was something, and he and Steve would be together. As soon as he thought that, Danny relaxed. There was something, he knew it deep down, the fear had just kept him from admitting it.

Danny took a deep, shuddering breath. "Okay. Okay, let's do this."

Steve tugged on Danny's hand, and Dany crawled into the hospital bed beside him, settling in next to Steve. Steve turned his head to share one last kiss with Danny, deep and passionate despite the fact that it was hard for Steve to breathe. Danny snuggled in next to his soulmate, Steve's arms tight around him, closed his eyes, and let go.