A short tag to the most recent episode of Hawaii Five-0 with some added whump! A big Mahalo to imaginary_iby for beta'ing and giving me helpful tips.
TAG to Episode 6.17 (Waiwai)
A loud buzzing sound echoed off the thick walls of the interrogation room when Steve unlocked the door. Ripping it open with force, he strode toward Chris Dalton with an angry glint in his blue eyes. "Tell me again," he said firmly, stabbing a finger at the young man. "Tell me again you're the only one who knows how to unlock those files," he demanded to know.
Dalton shrunk back at the strong presence, pressing his body against the backrest of the metal chair. "What?"
"What, what!?" Steve barked. "Listen to me, all right? Somebody very important to me is at risk because of what you have done. Now tell me you're the only one who can unlock those files." As the words left his mouth, he felt like someone had punched him in the gut all over again. His mind was still a jumbled mess as he tried to process the fact that Catherine was in Ukraine instead of Nepal, where she had told him she'd be.
Dalton swallowed. "Yes, yes…"
"Are you sure? Are you sure?!" Steve asked again, eyes narrowing dangerously. He wasn't going to back down until he was absolutely positive that the information on the flash drive was safe.
"Yes. I encrypted the file with a 128-bit AES key, and I, uh, tacked on a few additional security measures," Dalton blinked sweat out of his eyes. "Tr-Trust me, it is secure."
Steve's erratic heartbeat slowed down a bit upon hearing those words and he briefly glanced at Danny, who stood behind him.
"I am the only person that, um…" Dalton's speech was getting slower and more garbled. His voice trailed off and he closed his eyes, only to snap them open again. "Trust me, it's uh…"
"Hey," Steve said and leaned down to look into the man's suddenly glassy and unfocused eyes. Something wasn't right. When Delton tried to talk again, he didn't manage past the first two words. With a frown, Steve turned toward his partner.
His own look of confusion was mirrored on Danny's face. "What the hell is the matter with him?"
Turning back to Chris, Steve gripped the man's drooping head and patted his clammy cheek. "Chris, hey, hey. Chris." The man's eyes didn't do more than flutter and he moaned quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve noticed Danny shuffle, brushing the back of his hand over his brow. "Chris. Hey, hey," Steve tried again to coax Dalton back to awareness, but the man was fading fast.
Steve stepped back from the now unconscious man. Everything about the situation was making him uneasy.
A soft hissing sound caught Steve's attention and he looked up. His eyes widened when he saw grey fog stream into the enclosed room through the air vent. Memories of a blank white room resurfaced and his stomach clenched.
"Steve…"
His partner's faint voice pulled Steve out of his dark thoughts and he snapped his head around.
Danny was blinking heavily and swaying in place. Without hesitation, Steve rushed to his friend's side. "Danny!" Gripping Danny's arm, Steve looked at him worriedly when he felt Danny's body sag in his hold. Gently, he helped Danny to the floor as his partner seemed to fight a losing battle with whatever drug they were being exposed to. Danny instantly collapsed to his side with a groan.
Mind going ten miles an hour, Steve frantically searched for a way to stop any more of the vapor from entering the room, but his thoughts were getting fuzzy and when he got back to his feet, a wave of dizziness left him staggering to the side. He caught himself on the backrest of the metal chair, but his legs were refusing to cooperate. He wiped the back of his hand over his forehead and called out for Danny again, but there was no answer.
Blinking heavily against the onslaught of vertigo, Steve once again tried to make sense of the situation, but to no avail. His legs buckled and he dropped to his knees behind the chair, landing on all fours. His arms were trembling, and he couldn't do anything to prevent his body from crumbling sideways onto the hard ground. He stared up at the vent, but his field of vision was getting blurrier with each passing second.
His right hand dropped limply onto his stomach as he lost the battle with unconsciousness.
The first thing Danny noticed when he fought his way back to awareness was the cold that seeped into his body from beneath. Groaning, he shifted on the unforgiving ground and slowly turned his head, which was resting on his bent arm. He made an attempt at sitting up, but a wave of nausea and the head splitting pounding in his skull prevented him from doing so. Instead, he rolled onto his back and pressed the heel of his right hand against his aching forehead.
"Danny, you all right?" Danny heard Steve's husky voice.
Groaning, Danny took a deep breath and squinted at his partner, who was slowly sitting up behind the now empty chair. He frowned at his wristwatch. "What the hell happened?"
"I don't know, I'm thinking…" Steve swallowed audibly and looked up at the vent. "I'm thinking it must have been fentanyl. The Russians used to use it," he explained, voice still sounding slurred and uncooperative. "They must have put it into aerosol form and piped it in through the vents."
Danny listened to the words, but he had trouble following them. He pushed himself into a more upright position and once again had to fight the lingering wooziness. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the room to stop spinning.
The next thing he was aware of was the familiar weight of his partner's hand on his shoulder. He must have zoned out. "Danny," Steve spoke softly. "You okay?"
"Don't know," Danny replied and cleared his throat when he felt like he couldn't draw in enough air. He coughed.
Steve squeezed his shoulder before moving his hand down Danny's arm to his wrist. "Let's get outta here. Fresh air will help clear your head. Can you stand up?"
Nodding, Danny grasped his partner's outstretched hand and brought his legs under him. He pushed himself off the ground while Steve gently pulled him up. The sudden change in position brought on another dizzy spell and he leaned heavily against his friend. Breathing in and out through his mouth, he waited for his rolling stomach to calm down.
Steve moved his hand to Danny's back and waited for him to gather his wits. After a few moments, he carefully steered Danny toward the exit.
They were halfway down the long, bare hallway, when Danny stumbled. "Wait," he rasped breathlessly just before his knees gave way.
Steve tried to keep him upright, but he wasn't in great shape either and he fell awkwardly down on one knee next to his friend. "Danny, hey."
Danny hung his head between his arms and gulped in air. His head was spinning even worse than before and it took all he had not to lose the contents of his stomach. "Shit…"
"Easy, Danny, easy." Steve's warm hand was a constant weight on his back, grounding him. "Steady and deep breathes."
Steve listened to the wheezing and almost hyperventilating gasps from his partner and a knot of worry tightened in his gut. He glanced up at the elevator door that was another twenty feet further down the hallway. He was just about to climb back to his own wobbly feet, when the elevator rumbled and the doors slid open, revealing a familiar face.
"Chin!" Steve called out, just as Danny's head dropped onto his shoulder, clammy skin resting against his neck.
Without hesitation, Chin ran to his friends' side and crouched down in front of Danny. He eyed Danny's pale and sweaty skin worriedly. "What happened? Is he hurt?"
Swallowing against the persistent queasiness, Steve shook his head. "There was gas coming from the vent. Knocked us out. But I think something's wrong," he explained quickly, gaze going back to his partner. He could feel Danny's hot and too rapid breaths against his throat, and he didn't like that breathing pattern one bit.
"We were out too," Chin said while pulling his phone out of his pocket.
Steve's head snapped back to Chin. Apparently, the gas had affected the whole building. "Everyone all right?"
Before Chin could answer, hacking coughs interrupted their conversation. Steve tightened his grip on his partner's shaking body, but the force of Danny's coughs almost threw him off balance and he had to brace himself on the wall with one outstretched hand.
Chin pressed his phone to his ear, eyes hard. "I'm calling for an ambulance. He's not breathing right."
Steve's head was swimming with concern and fear for his best friend. The situation reminded him too much of the sarin incident five years ago, making him want to scream. But instead, he put his palm on Danny's pale cheek and patted him. "Danny, are you with me? Come on, buddy, open your eyes."
"Steve…" Danny rasped, blue eyes slowly fluttering open. "C-Can't breathe…" He wheezed, followed by another cough. He clutched the front of Steve's shirt weakly, twisting his fist into the black material.
"I know, Danny. Help's on the way, okay? Just keep breathing," Steve said. By now, Danny was limply lying in his partner's arms, chest heaving uncontrollably. He was still responding weakly to questions with a nod or a shake of his head, but just as the paramedics arrived his head rolled to the side and he lost consciousness.
The paramedics didn't waste any time. They quickly began to assess the situation and strapped an oxygen mask to Danny's colorless face. Steve followed the flurry of activity with his eyes locked on his partner. He braced his hand against the wall in order to lever himself off the cold ground when they moved Danny onto a gurney, ready to transport him to the nearest hospital. Dizziness hit Steve as soon as he was on his feet and he took an unsteady step to the side to regain his balance.
"You okay?" Chin asked, eyeing him worriedly.
Steve nodded, pushing the vertigo down. "I'm fine. Let's go."
The ride to the hospital was a blur to Steve. He couldn't remember the details of the journey, which seemed like one of the longest of his life. He recalled one of the paramedics calling out Danny's readings to his colleague, and they didn't sound good. They also asked him a couple of questions, but everything, even his answers, sounded like they were spoken through a layer of thick cotton to his ears.
As soon as they pulled into the hospital, the backdoor was flung open and two pairs of arms reached for the gurney. Everything happened so fast, Steve had trouble following. Stumbling out of the ambulance, he followed his friend's stretcher until a nurse stepped in front of him and blocked his path. The woman smiled compassionately at him and told him to have a seat in the waiting room. Reluctantly, he dragged his body over and collapsed into one of the padded chairs.
It didn't take long for the rest of the team to arrive at Tripler Army Medical Center. They all wanted to be there and wait for news on Danny, but they still had a case on their hands. Steve was torn between staying by his partner's side and wanting to hunt down the woman who was responsible for so much death and destruction. Eventually, the decision was taken out of his hands when Lou, Chin and Kono decided to continue with the case and keep him updated.
It was another hour after Steve's family had left when an elderly doctor with salt and pepper hair entered the waiting room. Steve was on his feet in a heartbeat.
He listened to the doctor's explanation about the fentanyl overdose that had compressed Danny's respiratory system and caused his vital signs to jump all over the place. They'd put him on oxygen and an IV drip to regulate the readings.
"So he's going to be fine?" Steve asked once the doctor was done talking.
"Yes, he will be fine."
The answer caused a huge weight to drop off Steve's chest. He ran a hand through his hair, only now noticing that he was shaking ever so slightly, and smiled tiredly at the doctor. "Can I see him?"
Two hours later, the sun long since disappeared behind the horizon, Steve sat in the white chair next to his best friend's hospital bed. Danny had yet to regain consciousness, but he already looked far better than he did back in the interrogation room. The color of his skin was almost back to normal again and his breathing sounded clear and effortless with the help of a nasal cannula. Steve had already texted the rest of their team about Danny and learned in return that they'd managed to get the untouched flash drive back. Case closed.
Steve shifted in the chair and leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. He pressed his fingertips against his temples, which were throbbing with each beat of his heart. The day was obviously starting to catch up to him. The worry about first Catherine and then Danny had caused his adrenaline to go into overdrive, but now that he knew that two people who were very important to him were safe – at least for the time being – he suddenly felt exhausted and drained.
He closed his eyes when the walls surrounding him started to tilt and shift. The lingering nausea he had been fighting ever since waking up on the floor of the interrogation room was unexpectedly back with a vengeance. He tried to fight it, to bring it back under control, but the burning in the back of his throat didn't let up. He coughed, almost gagged.
Stomach rolling and cramping, Steve pushed himself into a standing position. The dizziness worsened immediately and he gripped the rail of the hospital bed to keep upright. Sucking in an unsteady breath, he carefully made his way to the attached bathroom, where he latched onto the sink. His fingers felt numb and his grip almost slipped.
"Shit…" He gasped, pressing a hand to his constricted chest. He loosened the top button of his black button-down shirt with uncooperative fingers, but it didn't help to ease his breathing. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead and upper lip and he barely managed to twist around to face the toilet before he was throwing up. He tried to regulate his breathing between retches, but he wasn't able to catch his breath. His chest was heaving and he was panting desperately to pull air into his lungs.
Black spots twirled in his peripheral vision right before his death grip on the porcelain bowl loosened and he passed out.
For the second time that day, Steve clawed his way back to consciousness, but unlike the first time he woke up, he felt a soft mattress underneath his body instead of the hard, cold concrete floor. His head was a bit fuzzy and he struggled to remember what had happened. Then he felt the steady stream of cool air under his nose. The distinct memory of fighting to draw in a breath resurfaced and he inhaled deeply, relieved to find it easy to fill his lungs. Piece by piece, the events of the past hours came back and filled in the blanks in his head.
Suddenly, the vivid picture of his partner lying unresponsive in his arms reappeared and he snapped his eyes open. He jackknifed into a sitting position with a strangled gasp.
"Whoa! Hey!"
A hand landed on his shoulder, pushing him back against the pillow, and he jerked his head to the right. A pair of familiar bright blue eyes were watching him with concern. Steve blinked. "Danny." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah. You all right?" Danny asked softly, squeezing Steve's shoulder before he let go.
"Yeah, yeah…" Steve licked his dry lips and reached up to run his IV-free hand through his hair. He winced when his fingers brushed over a sore spot on his forehead. He gently prodded the tender area.
"Already found your goose egg, I see." Danny chuckled softly. When Steve continued to poke at it, Danny reached up and smacked his hand away. "Stop touching it. You probably already have a headache without that."
Steve dropped his hand back onto his chest and eyed at his partner. He looked good. He had a healthy color on his face and no medical equipment attached to his body anymore, except the blue hospital gown. "Are you okay?"
Danny snorted. "Me? Yeah, I'm fantastic," he answered and weaved his right hand through the air. "You, on the other hand, are a walking disaster."
Steve frowned. He still couldn't quite recall why he was now the one occupying a hospital bed when he clearly remembered arriving at the hospital with his partner as the patient.
Danny seemed to notice the confusion on his friend's face and took pity on him, "You, you giant idiot, forgot to mention to the nice medical personnel that you were exposed to the fentanyl as well. They found you passed out in the bathroom, barely breathing."
Steve swallowed dryly. "I… I didn't know it was that bad," he said and shook his head. "I don't understand. Everyone else was fine."
With a sigh, Danny dropped into the padded chair next to his partner's bed. It gave Steve a clear view of the second hospital bed in the room. The one Danny had been lying in earlier. The covers were still undone.
"Apparently, fentanyl is heavier than oxygen and therefore collected on the lowest level of the building, which happens to be the basement," Danny explained. "We both suffered an overdose, only my symptoms appeared earlier and you didn't mention a damn thing about feeling crappy to anyone!"
Steve winced at the rise in volume. He wasn't sure if the dull headache was the result of the vapor, or the bump on his forehead. "Sorry?"
Danny huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Was that a question?"
"No. Look, I'm sorry, okay? I've been exposed to gas before and the aftereffects were the same. I didn't think anything about it until I was in the bathroom and struggling to breath. I was worried about you and about Cath and didn't really think."
Danny exhaled loudly and leaned back in his chair. "Well, now that you know that everyone's okay, you can relax. If you follow the doctor's instructions they'll discharge us tomorrow morning."
Steve smiled. "Okay. And Danny?"
"Yes?"
"I'm glad you're okay. I was worried."
Danny returned the smile and reached out to place his hand on top of Steve's, mindful of the needle inserted there. "I'm glad you're okay too. I couldn't imagine doing this job without my crazy partner." He grinned and squeezed his partner's hand.
Steve snorted. "Yeah, love you too."
The End
(I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters.)