A blast of frigid air blew over Kelly and Mac, made them stagger back from the railcar and stumble over the track at their feet.
"F'God's sake!" Mac exclaimed as Kelly grabbed him to keep him from falling. He straightened. "Kelly, look!"
Scotty was there, on the floor of the refrigerated car. Not moving.
"Scotty!" Panic shot through Kelly's voice. His partner – dammit, his partner…
In one motion Kelly swung himself up into the opening of the car. The cold instantly infiltrated the soles of his topsiders, clambered up his legs. And Scotty was on the floor. Quickly he hopped over the loose floorboard, avoided the gap, saw the hole to the ground below. With the toe of one topsider he nudged aside tomatoes scattered across the space and kicked clear the broken pallet with two still nestled inside. Swiftly he knelt beside Scotty and pulled him up into his arms – cold, too cold. It was already grabbing at his knees, making them ache. What had it done to Scotty?
"C'mon, Jack," Kelly told him. "Time to go…"
Scotty made a muffled sound of response, half awareness, half-pain. He was gray under the dark cast of his skin, barely shivering. "Girl," he uttered thickly, trying to reach through Kelly for the warmth working in through the open door. His fist bumped against Kelly's thigh. "Margo…"
Kelly half-whirled, saw her slumped against the doorframe. "Mac – the girl's in here!"
"Get her," Scotty insisted around his sluggish tongue, sinking on a shallow gasp. He shoved weakly at Kelly, his hands working like paddles. Kelly reached for one, handling carefully, seeking a change in skin color, frostbite! raging through his mind.
Scotty grumbled something at him and pulled away. "No," he managed, "…girl first…"
Reluctantly Kelly let go. "Hang on," he murmured to Scotty, then scooped up the unconscious Margo and handed her down to Mac's waiting arms.
"I've called for help," Mac told him. "Get Scotty out of here…"
Yes, and right now. "Scotty, c'mon, m'man…" Kelly reached for him again. Hypothermia, he silently determined over a burst of alarm. The symptoms were present – drowsiness, lack of coordination, confusion, shallow breathing. He tucked Scotty's head into the protective curve of his shoulder, felt the stiffness of his partner's cold cheek through the thin windbreaker he'd hurriedly donned after that frantic call from Margo. He hadn't bothered with a tee shirt; now he wished he'd chosen something else so he could hand it over. Scotty needed warmth – this wasn't good, not good at all. He eased Scotty around, closer to the door, got his head and shoulders into the sun. Refusing to let go, he twisted a hand into the shirt collar and climbed back over his partner. From there he dropped his legs over the side of the car and jumped onto solid ground, immediately grateful for the sun re-warming his back. But there was no time to waste. He reached back up, locked both arms around Scotty's broad and trembling back, drew him slowly out of the frozen cave. One helluva locked room, Jack…
"Can you help me a little, Duke?" he prodded. He had little strength from this angle, would only have a moment to adjust and take Scotty's full weight once he was pulled clear. And without being able to grab both arms and legs at the same time, there would be a definite tangle on the way down. "Just a little forward – that's it…"
"Sun…" Scotty mumbled, grimacing at he tried to fold his legs up and thrust himself forward. "Kel…"
"Here – I'm right here," Kelly told him, grabbing one cold hand, then the other, and guiding them both to rest just over his shoulders. "Easy...let me---"
Another tug and Scotty was free. His dead weight rolled onto Kelly, instantly bending him backwards. Quickly he braced his legs to take it on. Scotty's feet banged hard against his shins and he slipped heavily down. Kelly made a fast grab to keep him from tumbling headlong down onto the track, a dreadful thought popping up into his mind – what if he'd just snapped one of Scotty's fingers or toes – or even a whole limb?
"Hey, hey," Kelly called, crowding close, working a hand across Scotty's jaw, trying not to rub. He gave the stiff cheek just the lightest tap. "Scotty, c'mon, wake up."
Cold, too cold…And no response.
Kelly quickly drew Scotty into his chest once again, worked one-handed to fold up one heavy leg, then the other, trying to create body mass that he could wrap himself around. Next he brought in one arm, tucked it into the space made between Scotty's chest and drawn up leg, wished for once that he had more physical bulk to provide warmth. Why didn't I grab a shirt?? He wrapped a hand around the other wrist, pulled up the arm, saw for the first time the ripped sleeve, the crudely bandaged arm – the blood leaking through – dammit! His own hands shaking now, Kelly finished folding his partner up, then enveloped him as best as he could with his own body, instructions from the memorized emergency treatment manual burbling through him. Provide covering to warm the body, intake of warm fluids if possible. No rubbing, no immersion in hot water. Cover the head…
"Scotty, come on," he urged. "Come on, now, Jack, it's time to wake up. I'd slap you if I could, but I can't. So you just have to do this on your own." He knew he was starting to babble but he couldn't help it – talking always helped him through a situation. He wasn't a cogitator like his partner. Scotty would ponder and consider and deduce, but Kelly Robinson would fly through all that and use the sound of his voice to think. That's what made them so good together – that's what made them the perfect team. One to think and one to talk. "Stay with me, Duke," Kelly said tersely now. His hand crept in to find the pulse at the neck – there, but slower than it should be, than he wanted it to be. "I didn't check every rail car back in that first train yard for nothing, didn't get Mac to break the speed limit on the freeway just to find you permanently frozen. I told you I didn't like this plan, didn't I? It should have been me playing tour guide and not you. And why didn't you remember to duck when the bullets started flying? Haven't I always told you to duck?"
Why isn't he responding? Terror broke over Kelly – he was too cold. What if – coma… No! It couldn't end like this, broken by an unexpected ride in a refrigerated rail car. Shot, stabbed, beaten, betrayed, in a foreign country almost certainly, by the Other Side more than likely, all in the line of duty – but not this. They were partners – partners didn't die on each other. They didn't give up – ever. Hadn't he told that to Scotty often enough?
"Scotty – c'mon, please," Kelly pleaded. He was talking before – why not now? Was that the start of frostbite on one cheek? No, please… "C'mon, man, come on now…talk to me, Duke." Mac was waving at him and shouting something. Two men flanked him, yard workers, and one was carrying a blanket. In the distance came the scream of a siren – the ambulance. Yes, help, hurry up!
Scotty suddenly jerked and the top of his head banged Kelly's chin. He blinked, mumbled something. "That's it," Kelly encouraged as hope flared back through him. "Come on, Jack. Come on now. Listen to me. I've got you. You're going to be okay." He felt Scotty take a shuddering breath; it caught and came back out as a rasping cough. Panic sluiced back through Kelly. Scotty'd been breathing that cold, cold air; what had it done to his lungs? What if fluid built up? Fluid, pneumonia…he'll drown… "Breathe for me, man," he stammered, taking some of his own breaths, trying to get Scotty to feel them through his own chest wall. "Breathe, breathe. Don't stop – dammit, don't..." What is wrong??
"Hurts…" Scotty mumbled. He coughed again, tried to straighten, and said something – it sounded like "squished."
Frantically Kelly eased him forward, got a knee behind him to keep him propped up. "That better? Scotty, is it better?"
"…squished…" Scotty muttered again. Or maybe that wasn't the word, because he suddenly began tugging at his shirt, pulling one end out of his waistband and digging at his skin. What the hell is he doing…? "No, now! No!" Kelly exclaimed with unabashed fear."Keep that on…" He reached over and shoved the fabric back inside. "Keep your clothes on, Jack. Listen to me, you're cold, you need to stay covered, all right? You're hypothermic. Keep dressed – keep – here, give me your hand…" Dammit, this was bad. It was really bad…
Scotty abruptly stopped. He frowned, tilted his head, caught Kelly's gaze with his own and hung onto it, trying to focus. "Hypo…" tried to repeat. Then his whole body started to quake with fresh shivers. "…did you say…?"
"Hypothermia," Kelly told him, saying it slowly. "You know – as in frozen? Just relax – you'll be okay…"
"Here, mister," said one of the arriving workers, handing over a quilted packing blanket. "Ambulance is coming." To his companion he directed, "Get one of them crates so's he can sit."
Kelly got the blanket quickly wrapped around Scotty, head and all, and they lifted him up onto the proffered crate grabbed out of the open railcar. "Coffee, if you have it," Kelly told them. "He needs something warm."
"In my thermos," the other worker said, and they trotted back off.
"How's that?" Kelly asked Scotty, still holding him, watching helplessly as Scotty's teeth clacked and chattered with shivers. But shivering was so, so good. With the thickness of the blanket as a buffer, he began the lightest of massages across Scotty's back, trying to increase blood flow.
Scotty slumped and gave what sounded like a little sigh of relief. "You…you saw---?" he asked, his breath hitching. He, squinted, slowly brought his head forward. His face didn't look as gray now. From inside the blanket his arms worked, seemingly scratching – was he trying to dig at his clothes again?
Maybe he was warming up, getting pins and needles. Kelly got a hand inside his collar and tested for warmth – yes, it was there. "I saw," he confirmed, heartened; Scotty had tried for a sentence; that was good – very good. The siren was screaming louder – the ambulance, red lights flashing, was swaying drunkenly over the tracks toward them. "It's a good thing you dropped those tomatoes," Kelly told him, his voice shaking loose again. He glanced back over to the bright red blobs littering the dull ground under the car. "Saw 'em right off and knew it was you. Who else would have thought of dropping a vegetable down a hole? My brilliant partner, that's who…it was a beautiful plan m'man, just beautiful…"
"Actually…" Scotty took a breath, swallowed back a shiver. "It's – it's not…" His voice trailed away.
"It's not what?" Kelly prompted, watching as the ambulance attendants ran to the back of the parked vehicle, yanked open the door, and withdrew a gurney.
"It's not…" said Scotty again.
"Hold on," Kelly soothed, hands still working to keep is partner warm. "Help is coming."
"Vegetable…" Scotty said in a clear voice. He shook his head, slowly at first, then as if thawed from the rest of his body, faster. "It's not…vegetable…"
Fear stabbed Kelly clear to his kidneys; hallucinating…? Dammit, where were those guys with that thermos? Why weren't there more ambulance attendants? Kelly looked down at him, peering into that dark gaze to try and find the Scotty he knew. "Ah, what – is that right? What're you telling me, Jack?" he demanded softly. Keep him talking, bring him around. He'll respond to his own partner's voice…
"Botanically speaking," said Scotty slowly. And paused again, as if to catch his breath.
"Botanically, yes?" Kelly urged, his heart rattling in his chest. He was out of it – he'd already tried shucking his clothes…
"Botanically," Scotty repeated. He swallowed, worked his jaws a couple of times, straightened a little. "Nightshade family…"
"Yes, certainly," Kelly responded indulgently. "Nightshade. Okay now, take it easy…"
"Solanicum lycopersicum…" Scotty rolled off his tongue. From lykos…means wolf."
"Ah…okay…" Where was he getting this from? Rhodes scholar Scotty – how could his mind be making this up?
"Persica…" Scotty went on. "Peach….together – wolf peach."
Oh hell, he really was hallucinating. Damn – damn, damn… What do I do??
"Werewolves," Scotty stated, sounding so normal. But what he was saying just wasn't normal. "Used them…to lure…"
Werewolves – Scotty wasn't even a believer in that sci-fi stuff and here he was babbling crazily. "Shhh," Kelly soothed frantically. "It's okay. Just rest, Jack." This was awful. No more crazy talk, please. Stop – you're scaring me. "Listen," Kelly implored. "Just listen to me – there aren't any – werewolves around, no peaches or anything. Okay? It's all right; it's going to be fine. Can you hear me, Jack?"
"Of course," Scotty continued in a stronger tone, "…Aztecs called it titomatl---"
Kelly cringed. "Is that right?" he asked in a tiny voice. Forget talking. He pulled Scotty closer, trying to bury his head into his jacket sleeve. Shut up, Jack. Just be quiet…
"Yes," Scotty continued with calm. He shivered, but the tremor wasn't as harsh. "Translates…literally – plump thing with a navel…"
"Stop now," Kelly begged, unable to stand it. "We're going to get you warm and you'll be okay…"
"The seeds," Scotty continued as if he hadn't heard – maybe he hadn't; maybe he couldn't. "The seeds…classify…as fruit."
"Don't think about it," Kelly hushed him. "Just be quiet now." If he was this far gone, could they pull him back?
"Culinary purposes…a vegetable," Scotty finished. He eased the blanket off his head, pulled it down off his chest, and then slumped back. Kelly was struggling to keep him upright when one of the ambulance attendants finally appeared.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Hypothermia," Kelly quickly reported. "He got locked in a refrigerated rail car. He's still cold – they're getting him some coffee. His arm…" His mind – what can they do for that---? "I think he's…"
"Kel," Scotty called faintly.
Oh no, starting up again…
The attendant nodded and reached for the bandaged arm. "How'd he get out?"
"Kelly…Hey…s'all right…"
No, man, don't…
"He – uh…" Kelly gestured toward the car; what did that have to do with anything? "He dropped some tomatoes through the floor and I saw them and…"
Scotty was pawing at him with one hand. "Kel…"
"I'm right here," Kelly finally insisted to him, stroking a shoulder in comfort. "Be quiet now – let them look you over. Don't talk!" he declared as Scotty opened his mouth again. "Just – don't – talk anymore…"
The attendant swiveled his head to look at the tomatoes scattered under the car. "Pretty clever," he commented. He began working at the bloody, makeshift bandage. "Did you know that technically tomatoes aren't a vegetable, but a fruit?"
The space before Kelly suddenly swooped. He felt himself slipping through the warm air, and instinctively twisted his hands into Scotty's collar to keep from dropping. What had the guy said? Tomatoes aren't a vegetable, but a fruit… But that what's what Scotty was – were they all mad? Was he mad? "What're you?" he demanded angrily, trying to straighten. "Some kind of scientist or something?"
The attendant shrugged. "Learned it in a botany class," he said simply.
"I told him," Scotty interjected from between them. Kelly could only stare down at him, his hearing fuzzy – what is he saying?
"Hold this," the attendant said, taking Kelly's hand and putting it over Scotty's bandaged arm, then moved away. "I'm going to get some fresh bandages. Keep him talking – he needs to stay awake…"
Kelly stared dumbly at him, suddenly very confused. "Yeah, okay," he stuttered. Botany – botanically speaking…keep him talking…
"Hey, Jack…" Scotty tugged at Kelly's sleeve.
"What, man?" Kelly murmured back, trying to comprehend. He glanced down – how did they both know…?
"I told you," Scotty said. And then he smiled.
Not a half-frozen, reactive smile, but the rare and genuine Alexander Scott smile, the impish but intelligent, I-know-and-you-don't smile.
Kelly's heart lurched. Something in his brain quickly righted itself. He looked down at Scotty again and realized – what Scotty had said was true. Dammit, he was fine. He was all right! No hallucinations, no craziness; never was any. It was all crystal clear – Scotty was Scotty. Like always. Ridiculously like always. Scotty, Scotty…
"You – you're not…" he sputtered.
"I told you, man," Scotty said once more.
He told me, he's okay…"Yes, you certainly did," Kelly choked out, suddenly getting a hand around his cheek. He just wanted to hug him, right there. Scotty – his amazing wonderful Scotty.
"You didn't believe me."
"I – I," Kelly stammered. You were there – not moving – and then you said …and you were scratching …and I…"
"Splinters," Scotty told him. "That floorboard."
"Oh, yes. Right." Kelly blew out a breath. Splinters…of course. "You sure you…?" he began.
"Just cold, man," Scotty answered. Then, "Sorry about the etymology lesson – guess I was a little out of my head." He tsked at himself. "Wolf peach…plump thing with a navel. I'm telling you, it's true."
Scotty, I know what's true… Kelly brought his cheek onto the top of Scotty's curly head, almost planted a kiss there. "Jack," he declared around a lump rising in his throat, "I don't care what you call it – I'm just glad it fit down that hole."
--With thanks to Wikipedia. Whether confirmed or not, it gave great inspiration!--