A Kaleidoscope of Blue and Red

A/N: Here's the latest installment. This too was a request with a very specific prompt that I tried my best to develop. You'll find it at the end of the story. The theme is not original, but I hope I managed to add enough personal touches to make it different.

A heartfelt thank you to my beta reader who always knows what to say to make me feel better and to a couple of very special people who helped me through my 'I don't want to write ever again' crisis.

"Hold on when there is nothing in you

except the will which says 'Hold on!'"

— Rudyard Kipling

"Steve! Hey, Steve, come on! Head above the water! What's the matter with you, huh? Who's the SuperSEAL?" Danny urged, looping his own arm around the life preserver and stopping for some much-needed rest. "I'm not doing all this for nothing. Alright? Here, both hands on this thing, come on. Head above the water."

"Yeah… I'm okay, Danny, keep going."

"Just give me a sec, will ya? I'm not trained to swim across the Pacific."

"Sorry…"

"Not your fault. Just… just hold on." He gave his friend's shoulder a reassuring squeeze and turned to float on his back. The blue sky loomed over him, making him feel claustrophobic even though his situation was the very opposite of it. Blue was everywhere. Different shades of it, covering the ocean's surface and traveling up, up, up for as far as the eye could see.

The sun beat mercilessly down on them.

It was almost perpendicular now, signaling it was close to noon.

They'd been out here for hours.

And it was ironic, really, if he stopped to think about it, that he'd been the one to suggest that they checked to see if their suspect's boat had returned to dock.

Steve wanted to head straight to HQ, coordinate with the Coast Guard and have them search the area where they'd last seen it. Danny had insisted, and when they saw the 'Alika' sitting behind a locked gate at the marina, they couldn't believe their luck. 'Let's do it', they'd agreed, nodding at each other without saying a word.

Fifteen minutes later, they had found themselves outnumbered, subdued and incapacitated as the boat sailed again towards the open water with them as unwilling cargo.

The perps' intentions were clear. Dump them into the ocean and hope their bodies would never be found. Danny's initially concerned attitude had taken a nosedive straight into panic when Steve had tried to disarm one of the men and ended up with a bullet to his leg.

A healthy SEAL might have increased their chance of survival.

A wounded partner made things a hell of a lot more difficult.

Steve had been a trooper, Danny had to give him that. The hole in his left thigh hadn't slowed him down a bit. He'd swam as if he wasn't even injured, using his good leg to compensate and head them towards land. Wherever he believed that was.

Gradually, his strength had started to wane, and three hours after their unfortunate run-in with Jin Lao and his goons here they were, in the middle of the ocean, with nothing in the way of resources but a life preserver Danny had had the presence of mind to grab before they were forced to jump overboard.

Blinking away the tears that were threatening to spill, Danny closed his eyes.

In the midst of all this vastness it was easy to lose hope, and his pessimistic nature was slowly but steadily taking over.

He glanced over at Steve, who was stubbornly holding onto their only lifeline. His face was pale despite the time they'd spent in direct sunlight, unflattering lines of pain and worry marking his handsome features. Small rivulets of red stained the water around him, and Danny did his best to ignore the thought of sharks being drawn to blood and what salt, polluted water could do to an open would and a compromised immune system.

The first time his friend's head had bobbed beneath the waves, Danny hadn't worried. Steve had extensive training. He could hold his breath for ridiculous amounts of time and swim the longest distance with the practiced ease of someone who had spent more time in the water than on dry land.

It was his element. There was nothing that scared him about it.

When it happened again a short time later and Steve almost slipped under the water unnoticed, Danny panicked. He was barely hanging on, the responsibility of getting them both to safety weighing heavily on his shoulders.

He couldn't do this without him.

Even half conscious and in pain, Steve was giving him directions and survival tips.

There was no way he'd make it alone.

Plus, if the six-foot-tall, 180-pound Neanderthal lost consciousness, he wasn't sure he would be able to hold his weight and rescue him.

Danny licked his parched, cracked lips.

He needed to move. They were the proverbial "needle in a haystack", adrift on an ocean with no land in sight. Remaining where they were was a death sentence, and not a painless one either.

He stared out across the sea, unable to distinguish between the salty blue ocean and the horizon. "Where to?" he asked. It was a way to engage his friend, determine his lucidity, and reassure himself that his efforts might actually lead to something. "Steve! Which way?"

Steve blinked, stared at him with a confused expression.

It took him a few moments to realize what was being asked of him. When he did, he tipped his head back and looked at the sky, then pointed a weak hand somewhere behind Danny's back. "There," he said in a rough voice.

"Alright," Danny nodded, adjusting the rope that was connected to the life buoy across his chest like he had watched Steve do years before. He could see nothing, couldn't figure out how someone could pinpoint a location when there were no landmarks in sight, but he trusted his friend to steer them in the right direction. "You ready? I'm gonna start swimming again. Hold on, alright?"

"'m ready…"

Danny took a deep breath, ignored his protesting muscles, and began to move.

Steve stared at the slick of red staining the water around him.

The makeshift bandage Danny had applied to his thigh wasn't doing much in terms of stopping the blood flow, which after a few hours was still leaking from the wound. The whole leg was basically useless now, and despite calling all of his reserves and the years of training he had endured, he wasn't sure how long he could last. He felt lightheaded, his mind was losing focus, and the calm and calculated movements he'd tried to make to help Danny move faster were getting more and more uncoordinated.

Despite his problems, all he could think of was Danny and how difficult it must be for him to be in the water like this. The whole thing was probably bringing back memories of their misadventure a few years back and the death of his best friend when he was a kid.

Steve remembered him telling the story while they were stranded in a slowly leaking dinghy. He had asked what was his problem with the water, frustrated by his endless complaints, and Danny had shared the memory of watching another boy die right in front of him.

Losing someone so tragically, at that young an age, had probably helped shape his friend into who he was.

Steve knew all about it, and it hurt to be the one responsible for adding even more pain.

"You should save yourself," he mumbled, using the hand that was not holding the life preserver to move the water around him so his partner wouldn't see the blood.

"What?" the blond replied, pausing to tread water.

"I said you should… save yourself. There's no point in both of us dying out here."

The ocean was something he loved, something he respected. Steve understood its beauty and its dangers, knew that it could turn from quiet and placid to loud and dangerous, taking lives without people even realizing it.

If it came to it, he had to convince Danny to leave him behind.

Danny's eyes narrowed. He swam closer, gripped his partner's shoulder and squeezed it. "Listen to me very carefully, alright? First of all, there's absolutely no way I'm gonna leave you out here alone and secondly even if I did, where the hell am I supposed to go? Huh? There's nothing around here, Steve. A whole lot of nothing, for miles and miles. I get one mile closer and where does it get me? Still in the middle of the goddamn ocean, still too far away from land, so save your breath and use it to stay alive!"

Steve lowered his head, chin resting on the life buoy's plastic surface. "I'm sorry, Danny…"

"For what? If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you. It was my brilliant idea that got us here." He watched his friend's lips curl into a small smile and furrowed his brow. "What? Why are you smiling?"

"Not… used to… you apologizing to me."

Arms and legs moving on autopilot to give them a fighting chance, Danny tried his best to smile back. "I have my moments. We make it out of here, I'm gonna treat you to a nice, Italian dinner, alright?"

Steve closed his eyes, savoring the taste of every dish he'd had the fortune to try. "You gonna cook?"

"Am I go—what kind of question is that, of course I'm gonna cook!"

"Sounds great," he replied, fighting to keep his head above water.

His arms felt like they were made of jello but he held on, shivering despite the unrelenting sun beating down on them. "You alright?" he asked when he saw Danny grimace in pain. They'd been adrift for over three hours. He was probably cramping real bad.

"No. But I got no choice."

Steve bit his lip, forcing down the thought that he was just a burden slowing them down. He wasn't a pessimist, and the word 'quitting' had been erased from his vocabulary by years of training and his very own nature, yet as he watched Danny resume his exhausted swimming and more swirls of red rise to the surface, he started to acknowledge that this time, the odds weren't in their favors.

The thought was validated not ten minutes later, when his hand slipped and he lost his grip on the life buoy.

The cold water pushed him down, and as he went under he was reminded of something one of his instructors had said about drowning being a quiet affair, about people barely making any noise. One minute they're there, and the next they're gone.

Steve didn't want to add his name to those statistics so he fought, doing his best to swim back up.

He kept fighting even as his oxygen levels dropped and his heart started to beat faster, moving uncoordinatedly like no SEAL ever should while he held his breath and wondered if Danny had even realized he was gone.

He couldn't leave him out there.

He wouldn't leave him alone.

The struggle seemed to last forever but only took less than a minute. With superhuman effort, Steve managed to break the surface, gulping in air as he strained to stay afloat. His hand found the ring-shaped flotation device and he held onto it with all his might while coughing and sputtering the salt water he'd swallowed.

"Steve!" Danny called in a panic as soon as he saw him. "What happened? I turned around and you weren't there!" He rushed up to his friend in two powerful strikes, looked him over, then grabbed Steve's free hand and placed it next to the other. "What'd I tell you, huh? Both hands. Here, hold on or I'll make you wear this thing like a child."

"'m alright…"

"Like hell you are…"

Danny was breathing hard, his own heart thumping wildly inside his chest. He shook his head at the unfairness of it all and mirrored Steve's pose, holding onto the life buoy while he took a few calming breaths and rested his cramping legs.

They stayed like that for a moment, looking into each other's eyes.

Making promises, asking for forgiveness.

Professing their love.

"Da... Danny..." Steve suddenly wheezed, feeling all the strength leave his body and a numbing cold envelop him.

"Yeah."

"Danny…" he repeated, this time a little louder.

Wide, worried eyes stared back at him. "What? What's the matter?"

"I… I think I'm going to pass out now."

Before Danny could react, Steve's vision blurred out and his consciousness faltered. Within a few seconds he was drowning again, sinking faster and faster, limbs as heavy as lead.

The ocean closed in around him, trapping him, threatening to swallow him whole. Using the last shred of awareness he had left, Steve held his breath. He had done it a thousand times and yet, now that it mattered, his brain couldn't seem to grasp the familiar command with the same ease as in the past.

His head pounded, every cell in his body screaming for oxygen. Splotches of black began to progressively seep in at the edge of his vision, to the point where he couldn't tell if his eyes were opened or closed. There was pressure, unbearable pressure on his chest as the indigo water kept swirling around him, keeping him from the oxygen he needed.

When the urgency for air became too much and he felt like he was going to explode, he said a silent apology to his best friend and gave in.

There was no fear, no heart hammering inside his ribs.

He just… took a breath.

The water rushed in, cold and murky, and thrusted up his nostrils, cascading into the back of his nose and throat.

It didn't hurt like he thought it would.

In fact, it was almost peaceful.

His limbs slowed down and he let himself float, falling further and further into the depths. The coldness he had felt up until then was completely gone, and — ever so slowly— everything faded away. He didn't want to die like this, but it was too hard to even try to fight it.

Exhaling one final breath, Steve watched it rise in a fascinating stream of bubbles back to the surface.

Then he let the darkness take over.

Danny had known, the minute he'd heard Steve's distressed voice, that something terrible was about to happen. The man didn't scare easily, and would rather cut his own arm than show anybody fear.

Seeing him disappear beneath the surface caught him by surprise and he froze, paralyzed by fear, because Steve couldn't drown, it just couldn't end like that and his eyes rolling to the back of his head weren't going to be the last thing Danny ever saw of him.

"Steve!"

The hoarse, desperate call tore out of his throat as he started to move, hoping against hope to see him resurface while fighting the vision of his lifeless body, waterlogged and blue, pulled up by the rescuers.

A particularly strong wave pushed him farther away just as he was getting ready to dive in. Danny screamed in frustration, doubling his efforts to get back to where his friend had just dropped from sight.

Ditching the life preserver so it wouldn't slow him down, he sucked in a deep breath and plunged into the water, head pounding with fear, looking around frantically through his increasingly blurred vision.

Colors faded, sounds muted, and all he could hear was his heartbeat quickening in intensity and speed.

Where was Steve?

How was he ever going to find him?

His brain was in full panic mode, threatening to burst any second.

Arms and legs desperately kicking out, lungs feeling as if they'd been set on fire, he clawed through the water for what seemed like the longest time until he spotted a hint of blue down by his feet.

Steve's shirt.

It had to be Steve.

Danny dove farther, almost bumped into the solid wall of muscles that was his friend's chest, and with no time to waste clasped his wrist and started to drag him towards the surface.

While he was no expert in deep-water rescue, he had learned the basics and knew there was a short window of time before lack of oxygen and brain damage became a real possibility.

Throat searing with the rising pressure of trapped air, he positioned himself behind Steve, reached one arm across his chest, holding him firmly, and started to tow him upward.

The ascent felt excruciatingly long, the daylight above looking elusive and far, too far away. Danny struggled, his legs moving frantically to cover the distance as quickly as he could.

When he finally emerged, gasping for air, his whole body was throbbing and shaking from the adrenaline rushing through his system.

Ignoring his own needs, he placed both hands under Steve's armpits and grasped his shoulders, rolling him over so that he was face-up, then allowed himself a moment of relief for accomplishing something that seemed impossible to achieve.

The reprieve was short-lived, only lasting until he noticed his friend's blue-tinged lips and realized that Steve wasn't breathing.

"Steve? Come on, buddy, don't do this… you're not leaving me here alone, you hear me?" Using one hand to stroke, he scrambled towards the life preserver that was floating nearby and grabbed it, putting it around his partner's unconscious form. "I know you hate this, so feel free to wake up and yell at me, alright?"

It was a tricky act holding it steady against the waves, but Danny tried to position him as best as he could. Ear over Steve's mouth, he quickly confirmed that his friend had a pulse but his lungs were stubbornly still, and immediately started the rescue breathing to provide him ventilation. He tilted Steve's head back, parted his lips and sealed their mouths together.

He breathed for him once, twice, three times, his exhausted lungs -already weakened by the dive- working overtime to deliver the much-needed oxygen and keep both alive.

"Breathe, man… breathe…" he urged him in between tries.

The strain left him lightheaded and out of breath, but he was rewarded a few minutes later when Steve started to cough and sputter salt water out of his mouth.

It was the most beautiful thing Danny had ever seen.

"That's it, come on! Breathe like the badass I know you are…"

Dazed, confused eyes slowly opened and stared back at him as Steve kept hacking up water.

"You're alright," Danny whispered, overwhelmed with relief. "You're alive…"

"Wha—" Steve tried in between coughing.

"You drowned on me, that's what happened. Your SEAL buddies are gonna have a field day when they hear about this." His voice was rough and tense but his gaze was soft and caring. He had almost lost him, and it was a feeling he never wanted to experience again.

He closed his eyes for a moment, physically and emotionally exhausted from the rescue, the hours-long swim and everything that had happened.

They had won a battle, but the war was still on.

They couldn't stay there. Danny had to at least try to get them closer to land.

"You hold on, alright?" he said, framing Steve's face with both hands. He would do anything for him, including exerting himself until he collapsed. "I can't get us out of here if you don't do your part. I know that— wait, what…" he stopped when his eyes caught a glimpse of something in the distance. He turned to get a better look and his heart almost leapt with joy. "It's a raft! Steve, hey, look! It's a raft!"

Steve struggled to shift so he could stand perpendicular to the surface. He followed Danny's gaze and sure enough there was a grey, raft-shaped object bobbing on the waves about 300 feet up north.

"That's... great, Danno. You're... going home," he said softly, attempting a weak smile.

Danny ignored the use of the singular pronoun and grabbed a fistful of his friend's shirt.

"I'm gonna get us there, alright? You just promise me to stay alive."

Heedless of his weariness and the wet clothes weighing him down, he looped the rope connected to the life buoy back across his chest and started to swim towards the raft.

The current was so strong that every stroke he took felt like he was pushed back two. And yet Danny moved, braving the strong waves of the ocean that seemed to have him in its clutches, relentless in his quest to get them to the very thing that might keep them alive.

He forced through by sheer will, inch by inch, farther and farther, and when his hand finally touched the rubberized fabric and curled around it there were tears running down his face.

Turning on his back, he let the waves wash them away.

The sun's broiling rays made him feel like he was being cooked alive, and he was grateful for the sudden chance to get out of the water for a while. They'd been in there too long. Sighing, Danny braced both hands on the raft so he could lift himself up first and then get Steve inside. His partner had his eyes closed, and it looked like he'd lost consciousness again.

Swallowing hard, the blond detective quickened his pace.

As he pulled himself up and onto the life-boat, his hand touched something that felt suspiciously like cold skin and he recoiled in disgust with a gasp, almost falling back into the water.

There was a dead body inside, limbs sprawled out as if death had just caught him by surprise.

Danny recognized the guy. He had been on the boat with them, and his face had come up during their investigation as Lao's business partner.

So what the hell had happened?

Good old-fashioned greed, Danny guessed, since the drug lord had recently acquired a large sum of money that he probably didn't want to share.

Not that he cared.

Good riddance, he thought, looking at the gaping hole in the man's gut and the blood that had pooled under him. A sense of dread rose within him as he thought of the similar fate awaiting Steve if they didn't rescue them soon, and he quickly shoved it aside.

"Steve?" he called, voice thick with emotion. "Come on, buddy, let's get you out of the water."

He stripped the dead man of his shirt, then with absolutely no remorse dumped the body into the ocean to make room for his friend.

Hoisting up Steve's unconscious form was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, and Danny cried out in frustration the first two times when he couldn't get him into the raft.

Memories of the plane incident and the air traffic controller's voice urging him to a water landing filled his mind. Danny remembered every detail as if it had happened just moments ago.

This.

This was what he'd been afraid of.

Being forced to watch his partner die because he couldn't lift him.

"Come on!" he screamed as if someone could hear him and help him out.

A few excruciating minutes later, he finally managed to get Steve's body out of the water.

"You owe me, you hear me?" he panted, his exhausted body slumped on his hands and knees. "I know I said we were... square when we helped... the nightmare that is... my ex mother-in-law, but I... changed my mind. This is almost as... bad as me giving you half of my liver."

He checked Steve's pulse, then proceeded to wrap part of the dead guy's shirt around his thigh to stop the blood that was still leaking from the wound, using the rest to craft makeshift hats to protect them against the blistering sun.

When he was satisfied that his partner was resting somewhat peacefully and he'd done everything he could, he sat down and leaned his head against the edge of the life boat, closing his eyes. They weren't safe yet, and he still planned on towing them as closer to land as he could, but he needed to take a break.

Just for a short while.

His last thought before exhaustion took over was the hope that his kids would still be proud of him if he didn't make it.

Steve drifted into consciousness.

Heavy lids parted, taking in the blurriness that was the world around him. His chest felt tight, making breathing harder than it was supposed to, and he couldn't keep focus.

So he drifted back out.

When he came to again, the first thing he noticed was the unusual, pleasant warmth spreading through his body. How could he be warm if they had been swimming for hours?

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes, blinking in surprise at the realization that he was no longer in the water. Details were hazy, the fractured images he was trying to access completely out of reach. He knew they were stranded, but how or when he had gotten into the raft, he couldn't tell.

Stretching his legs, he noticed the white, thick bandage on his thigh. He had no recollection of that either, though he was relieved that the wound had finally stopped bleeding.

Not that it was going to help.

He was still a burden, wishing like hell that he could do something besides sitting and trying to breathe properly.

A movement to his left drew his attention, and he saw Danny curled up next to him, fast asleep.

Steve reached out a hand to touch him, driven by the familiar need to make sure he was alright.

What Danny had done went far and beyond what any non-trained individual would have accomplished. It was no surprise he was exhausted. He just hoped they would find them in time so his friend could go back home to his kids.

Shivering despite the heat Steve sat up, taking in the view. The ocean stretched around them in every direction – a perfect, endless circle of blue. And in the middle of it, their little raft, lost and almost out of place in the vast expanse of water.

For now it was calm, harmless, but he knew it wouldn't stay that way forever. And even if it did, they would likely die from dehydration before they could fully appreciate it.

How long had it been since Lao's boat had ditched them?

How much time did they actually have left?

As if on cue, a bout of coughing rocked his frame, alerting him that it might be less than he thought and waking Danny up in the process.

"Hey, you're awake! How are you feeling?" Danny asked, shifting into a kneeling position so he could get closer. The back of his fingers brushed his friend's cheek in an affectionate, intimate gesture and Steve closed his eyes, reveling in the comfort that the physical contact provided.

The lie he was about to tell died on his lips.

"Like crap," he croaked, licking his dry lips. They were literally surrounded by water and he couldn't drink any of it. It might be humorous if the situation wasn't so damn dire. "I'm sorry," he added a moment later.

Danny held up one hand, index raised. "Stop saying that. There's nothing you could've done."

"I know how hard this must be because of you friend... Billy," Steve went on, lost in a train of wild thoughts fueled by dehydration, blood loss and exposure. "And I... I'm sorry for putting you through this because... I may not make it out of here."

Danny sat back, stunned.

"This isn't hard because of Billy," he replied with a firm voice that left no doubt about the truth he was speaking. "It's hard because it's you."

It was the truth. He hadn't thought of his best friend's death in a really long time.

Watching Billy die had been horrifying, but the panic he'd felt as a young boy when his best friend had disappeared below the water was not even remotely comparable to the terror that had seized him when it had happened to Steve. Their current-day predicament was much, much scarier, his only concern now Steve and the real possibility of losing him to his injuries and the circumstances they were in.

"Don't get any ideas, alright? No one is dying."

It had taken young Danny months to recover from the loss of his best friend.

Today, adult Danny was positive he never would.

As a kid, Steve had learned the myths and legends of ancient Hawaii.

Day after day, he'd sat in fascinated awe, listening to Mamo's tales of the powerful deities who were believed to have ruled the islands.

In one of those legends, he had learned about Kanaloa, one of the four major gods of the Hawaiian religion. Ruler of the ocean and god of the underworld, he was tall and fair-skinned, often represented as half man and half octopus.

Mamo had showed him a painting, a beautiful artwork of the almighty god who lived his days underneath the ocean's surface and was considered a healer and a teacher of magic, and Steve could've sworn that the man depicted on it was the same one he'd seen earlier during his near-drowning accident.

He remembered falling into the abyss.

The absolute darkness that had enveloped him.

The feeling of peacefulness when he had decided to let go.

And a presence, hovering around him.

Inquiring, scrutinizing eyes, then a hand reaching out for him and the slightest brush, a gentle touch that had slowed his descent.

Steve wasn't a religious man, but he had embraced a few beliefs of the Hawaiian culture, including the idea of spiritual energy inhabiting places, objects and persons. He had known, the minute he'd slipped underwater, that he was doomed to certain death. Now, as he lay inside the raft plagued by a worsening fever, he wondered if something, someone had watched over him until Danny could find him.

A tap on his shoulder gradually brought him back to the present.

He heard disjointed words, felt somebody shaking him, and crawled back to awareness to the reassuring touch of Danny's hand on his cheek.

"… and I would very much like to stop talking to myself... Steve? You with me, buddy?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Good. Stay awake, alright?"

Steve nodded, wishing he could promise him that. He was growing more and more tired and was having trouble catching his breath. "He saved me…" he whispered, because Danny was his best friend and he wanted to tell him all about the god that had spared his life.

What?

Danny's brow furrowed in concern.

"He? Who's he? I saved you, buddy. There's no one else here…"

He touched his partner's forehead and flinched at the warmth radiating off his skin.

"He's real…" Steve continued in his pain-induced hallucinations. His chest spasmed and he coughed again, bending over as sharply as if he'd been punched in the stomach. Blood spattered his lap and the hand he'd tried to cover his mouth with. He looked up, startled but not really surprised, and met Danny's wide-eyed gaze.

"It's alright, buddy, you're gonna be alright," the blond immediately reassured him, using a piece of the dead man's shirt to wipe away the bright red drops staining Steve's mouth. "Why don't you tell me all about this man who saved you, huh?" he added, playing along with his friend's fantasies while he frantically looked out over the water and tried to figure a way out.

He watched helplessly as more fits racked his partner's body. They were coming thick and fast now, and it looked like Steve was struggling to get enough air. Danny was no medic, but he knew shortage of breath was the first sign of more than a few life-threatening diseases.

He had to get him to a hospital.

Fast.

After what seemed like hours, the coughs slowly eased in intensity and then completely stopped. Face ashen, Steve slumped in exhaustion against the raft's edge. It felt like the air he breathed just wouldn't go in, plus the constant movements of their inflatable boat bouncing against the waves didn't help the dizziness that was getting increasingly worse.

Danny felt suddenly lightheaded as well, the strain he'd put his body through rearing its ugly head against his will. He plopped down next to his friend, shoulder bumping against shoulder.

"Really stupid way to die, huh?" he said, letting his pessimistic side get the better of him.

He had done everything he could, and it hadn't helped a bit.

The sky was looming over them.

All he could see was blue.

Different hues, same haunting color.

Steve reached out a hand, curled it around his friend's wrist.

"Let's... rest for a bit, alright? Then… maybe we can f-figure out a way..."

Never a quitter, he held onto hope even if he didn't believe it.

They both closed their eyes.

Driven by the wind, the raft travelled up north with its precious cargo inside.

The two friends remained asleep.

They stayed like that even when a boat appeared on the horizon, glistening in the sun, its outline becoming clearer and clearer as it made a steady approach towards them.

Strong arms pulled them to safety, and yet they did not stir.

Only hours later, in the confined space of a hospital room, one of them came back to life and started his silent vigil on the other.

"I fell asleep..."

"You were exhausted."

"I was supposed to help him, and I took a nap instead." The disgust lacing Danny's voice was hard to miss.

Five days after being rescued by the coast guard, his life had been reduced to waking up in his hospital bed and spending the day at his friend's bedside, only to go to sleep at night and start it all over again the next morning. There was no world outside Steve's room, only people who came and went with food and updates and the occasional phone call to remind his children he was still a father.

Today it was Adam's turn to babysit him and they were sitting outside the Intensive Care Unit while the doctor checked on Steve and started him on a new treatment they hoped would help.

Danny had been treated for dehydration, exposure and fatigue. Nothing compared to what his partner was going through, which only added to his all-consuming guilt.

"You did help him, Danny."

"How?" he asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "How did I help him? Because he's lying there with a tube down his throat and—and I can't fully understand what the doctors are saying but it sounds bad and they say there is no direct cure for it so tell me… tell me how exactly did I help him." The words flooded out of his mouth with the force of a lava-spewing volcano, so fast he barely had time to breathe as he spoke. Once they were out, he deflated like a puppet and buried his face in his hands. "I'm the one who put him there in the first place..."

Adam shook his head. "Come on, man, don't do this to yourself."

"Just stating the truth," Danny shrugged.

"Look, I've know you guys longer than any other member of the team, and you've both been there for me when I needed it, so trust me when I tell you that this is not on you. And if Steve was awake right now, you know he'd tell you the same thing."

A sad smile curved Danny's lips.

Yes, he would.

"So what did they say exactly?" Adam continued.

"They, uh… they said his lungs need to heal, that all they can do is make sure there's enough oxygen in his blood and give him medications to prevent complications."

The wound to Steve's thigh had turned out to be the least of their concerns when they'd found out he had developed ARDS for swallowing salt water during his near-drowning accident.

Danny had learned that the acronym stood for 'acute respiratory distress syndrome', which basically meant his partner's lungs had filled with fluid, making it difficult for them to expand and depriving him of air and his organs of the oxygen they needed to function. He wasn't sure he'd gotten the explanation and all the medical terminology right, but suddenly the shortness of breath, tiredness and confusion Steve had experienced made perfect sense.

'ARDS often worsens in the first few days', they'd told him. True to their words, the day after the diagnosis the dreaded ventilator had been added to Steve's oxygen therapy. They had made him comfortable, and told Danny it was all a waiting game now.

Despite the reassurances that many people with ARDS made a full recovery, Danny knew his heart would only stop aching when he could witness that for himself.

"Doctor's out," he said, jumping to his feet without even realizing it. He turned to look at Adam, then back towards the nurses' desk where the man had stopped.

"Go. I'll talk to him and then update you."

Danny nodded gratefully.

As he watched him walk down the hall and disappear inside Steve's room, Adam wished he had someone as special as Danny Williams in his life.

If there ever was a positive side to waking up in the ICU, it was opening his eyes to the biggest, most caring smile Steve had ever seen.

And the fact that that smile was reserved just for him spread a warmth through his body that had nothing to do with him finally being on the mend.

Weeks later, Duke told him he'd had a vision of the god Kanaloa at the exact moment Steve had slipped beneath the waters.

A deep connoisseur of the Hawaiian culture, the Sergeant believed that the energy of power and strength flowing through all things and humans, the Mana, was gained throughout one's life by meaningful work, relationships and the service lent to the community. For this very reason, because of his good heart and his exemplary dedication to the citizens of the island, he was convinced the Commander had been deemed worth and spared from death.

They greeted each other with the traditional Honi, pressing forehead against forehead and inhaling at the same time. The 'exchange of breath' through closed eyes had always had a special meaning for Steve, making him feel connected to others in a deeper, more spiritual way.

Having lost both his father and his mentor, Duke was now the only figure he could look up to as a role model, and learning of the connection they'd shared prompted him to admit that, whether it was real or not, he had seen something too.

The older man patted him on the shoulder and smiled.

"Only you," Danny said in his usual 'I rant because I love you' voice, finger jabbing at Steve's chest, "would celebrate surviving a horrific ordeal in the water... in the water." He shook his head, still in disbelief at the news that his partner wanted to spend a day at sea on a boat that Junior's dad had volunteered to lend them.

"We're going to be perfectly safe," came Steve's deadpanned reply as he opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water. His meds were already lined on the counter for what had become his morning ritual since the transplant, with the addition of two more pills courtesy of his latest misadventure. He held the door open for Danny, who grabbed the milk and put some into his coffee.

"Says the man I had to rescue not weeks ago from the bottom of the ocean."

"It wasn't the bottom of the ocean."

Danny stilled. "How would you know? You were basically dead. I had to perform CPR to save your ass which, by the way, reminds me that you owe me. Again." The hand holding the mug shook ever so slightly as unwelcome memories filled his mind, refueling his guilt.

Steve saw it and tried to break the tension. "I thought we were square," he scowled.

Leaning against the counter, Danny took a long sip of his coffee. Over the last few weeks he had ingested enough caffeine to last a lifetime, and the dark shadows under his eyes were a visual reminder of the battles he'd fought to get them both to safety and on the way to recovery. "That was before you decided to check out on me. Besides, you're not fully healed yet so you shouldn't even think about being out on a boat."

Unsurprisingly, Steve had started asking to be discharged from the hospital the minute the last wire had been disconnected from his body. Healing was a process he'd rather do in the comfort of his own home, away from everyone.

"The ocean air will do me good," he shrugged.

In his own twisted way, he was probably right. Steve craved the water like junkies craved their fix.

Danny didn't understand, but had learned to accept it. He reached for the crutches that were propped against the kitchen island and handed them to his partner, who glared at them as if they were the ones responsible for his misery. "Let's start with going outside. We'll talk about sailing later."

They made their way out to the lanai and sat down on the chairs by the beach.

Steve tipped his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the sun and the ocean breeze after weeks of being inside. As the quiet settled a round them, he focused on the sound of the waves breaking on the shore, Danny's words still weighing heavily on his mind.

"I had to put my finger inside your chest to save your life," he said somberly a few minutes later.

Danny shifted in his chair, turning to look at him. That was something else he wanted to forget. "So?"

"We're even."

The blond seemed to consider the statement for a while, then heaved a long, weary sigh. "What a pair, huh?"

Steve nodded, eyes still closed and the hint of a smile on his lips. "Yeah. What a pair…"

THE END

This was the prompt:

'Steve and Danny are stranded far from land, with not much in the way of resources.

Steve is injured, in and out of consciousness, and it's up to Danny to save him.

Steve is aware of how difficult it must be for Danny to be in the water like this. He tries to tell Danny that he's sorry, that he knows how hard this is because of Billy Selway, assuming he's gotten his friend into a bad situation that will bring back horrifying memories of Billy...instead of the reality being the current-day horrifying situation of possibly losing Steve. Danny looks at him and says, "This isn't hard because of Billy. It's hard because it's you." And it's true. He's not thinking about Billy drowning. He's thinking about Steve drowning.'