Title: (no title)

By: tdei
Disclaimers: Ouran Host Club is the property of Bisco Hatori and its respective agencies.
Warnings: Some graphic descriptions; possibly a little angst at the end.
Notes: Missing scene for the end of episode 11/manga volume 5. Nekozawa-centric. All original characters and the storyline are mine. Please do not repost this fic anywhere without my permission.

-----

Pain.

His skin boils and his lungs burn. His stomach is a tight mass of inflamed nausea as he spasms uncontrollably. His racing heart feels like it's bursting and cold sweat slicks his swelling skin. The black cloak someone threw over him is a relief from more searing pain, but it is hot and stinks of rust and vomit from where he's thrown up. He gasps even as he coughs uncontrollably, hard enough to feel the wet metallic taste in the back of his throat, from trying to breathe as they move him.

"Oh fuck me." The cloak wrapped around his entire body is cautiously, if hurriedly, peeled away as the sickening jarring stops. Cold air presses against hot skin as his jacket and shirt is removed. The blond flinches at the soft dim lights and groans in abject agony, squeezing near-blind eyes tightly shut. "No lights!" snarls the accented, cranky voice.

"Sir, we can't operate without lights."

"Then I suggest you explain how we treat a corpse 'cause that's what he's going to be if we continue to expose him to trauma!"

"Nurse Kunou, please shut down all lights except for the one over the exam table-- leave it on at lowest setting."

Oh god, I'm burning to death, thinks Umehito deliriously as he grips the bloody scratches on his blistering skin. For a few minutes, he'd hallucinated he could make the corrosive pain stop by clawing at his too-tight skin, but the attack on his suddenly fragile skin merely made it worse. He jerks as hands tug his hands away from his arms impatiently, and struggles feebly, shaking his head in denial.

The cold needle slides under his skin and injects ice in his veins. As the sedative relaxes the taunt spasms, the blond's crowding servants' tension ease.

"Nekozawa-sama, you're being treated. This is Doctor Kayama. You're at home. You have to relax and let us help you," coaxes the accented voice. The vertigo is so severe, Umehito barely remembers to be chagrinned at forgetting how familiar the voice had seemed.

"--ah." Umehito manages to croak before a seizure has him rattling the exam table violently.

The head doctor swears something vile in English.

"Must've been the sedative--"

"Trauma's altered the sensitivity of--"

"Mokuren, where the hell is the glucose IV!"

"Young master-- young master!"

"I can not help your master," says the head doctor with darkest ire, "If he keeps insisting on doing things that I've repeatedly told you all will kill him!" Noboru Kayama's face is a hard mask of furious worry as he glares at the servants entrusted with the Nekozawa heir's care and steps closer to examine the wheezing blond on his table who had just stopped seizing. "What the hell were you thinking!" He spares an exasperated scowl for the semi-conscious mess shakily sprawled before him before continuing to glower darkly at the two chastised servants.

A weak grip on his coat sleeve stops him at the start of his tirade.

"I..." slurs Umehito in a barely audible rasp, barely conscious. "I most humbly... ask for your forgi..." His heart falters from the continuous crushing pressure and finally skips a few beats in angry rebellion before stopping altogether.

"Sir, he's crashing!"

"Young master!"

The doctor swears again, carefully resting the unconscious boy's lax hand next to the boy's side. "Get me 2 milliliters of Epi stat! Where's that fucking IV! Mokuren! God, get those two out of here!" A couple of nurses detach and attempt to lead the protesting servants away as the team of doctors and nurses move in desperate frenzy.

"Sir, what about hematin--"

"It's been what, 25 minutes? Too late to do anything for him right now. Where the fuck is my IV!"

"Respiratory failure--"

"Dr. Kayama!" A nurse hands him an epinephrine autoinjector. The doctor grabs it as another nurse wheels over a defibrillator.

"Prep him! No sedatives, no barbiturates! From what just happened, I don't want to risk it even if he can usually take them, Use a shot of Fentanyl and Zemuron after we get his heart and breathing restarted!"

"Yes, sir!"

"You stupid kid," hisses Noboru as he stabs the injector home. "I don't forgive you if you've killed yourself with this. Don't die on us yet!"