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H50
Steve's whole body was on fire, simultaneously stabbing cold and it was aching like hell. He felt like he had already swam around the world (in reality, it were only a few hundred meters), and it was a torture only to think about swimming any further. He was moving since an eternity and the dawn changed into the blue sky of Hawaii not long after he had left the cave.
Come on, Steven, hang on, not far and it's done. You WILL hang on there, or I'll kick your ass, Steve heard Danny pleading and he could practically see him throwing his hands in the air like a maestro, but this imagination was flying away with a loud, gunshot-like sneeze.
He groped at the rock wall once again, trying to get his breathing and the headache under control. And why the hell was the world spinning again?
C'mon McGarrett, time for lil' situation check, huh? Feeling in legs? Ha-ha. Feeling in fingertips? Nope. Feeling in hands? Well, yes, um, no… not really yes and not really no. A little bit. Head? Definitely concussion. Ribs? Have had worse. Strength? Not too much left. Hypothermia? Looks bad, really, really bad. Pneumonia? Not yet. I guess my condition's not too good, huh? Who am I talking to?
He felt miserable.
The pressure in his chest was growing and he already sensed the next hacking coming, but he tried to hold it in as long as possible, the coughing was only abusing his damaged ribs.
How can anybody get sick in Hawaii? In 79°F hot water and nothing but sun?
He chose to swim further, it wouldn't help him if he stopped here and drown. His bluish fingertips let go of the hold and his whole body glided back into the warm-cold water of Hawaii. Steve's left arm started embracing his ribcage again, carefully not to touch it too hard and his tired legs kicked his battered body forward. After a few minutes he closed his eyes and used his right hand to fumble for the wall to let it guide him further and to not swim into the ocean.
Maybe Danno's already searching for me?
And suddenly, in one second to another, he knew what happened.
An accident.
Blood.
Pain.
DANNY!
H50
He woke up.
It wasn't the smooth waking up he was used to, without the nice sheets and his fluffy pillow greeting him, without the sun kissing his body. First, he wondered how many drinks he might have drunken last night when he was greeted with a big, nice headache and a familiar dizzy spell in his stomach.
He wanted to draw his hands to his face to rub over it, but a sharp pain prevented him from that and so he opened his eyes to see what was wrong with him. With the light shining in his eyes the ache in his skull and the nausea worsened immediately, but he didn't paid too much attention to it because, well, he was hanging headfirst from the seat, only the strained belt rescuing him from the fall to the … top of the car.
His gaze drifted to the windshield, which was shattered, splinter of its glass were lying distributed in the car, covering almost the whole top of the car in a strange glitter as the sun was shining down on it. That was when he noticed the safety belt was pressing hard onto his ribcage and he needed to do something about it because that was what really hurt.
Furthermore, he couldn't hear anything, but his own blood rushing through his ears. Grimacing, he turned his head to his right, his vision blacking out a few seconds before he could see again. His partner was dangling from his sit, too, and from the side of his face was blood running… up into his hair. Hell, it was so funny to see the world the other way around.
No, focus, you have to focus.
He tried to reach out a hand to his friend, to feel his pulse, but his body failed him as he practically felt his ribs cracking. "Ohh god," he groaned, slightly panicking as he didn't hear his own voice, but he knew the boom of the impact had caused the temporary hear loss. Determined to check on him, he made a second try and he stuck out his hand again, trying to ignore the hot piercing pain in his chest.
His fingertips brushed past the dust and the flying ashes, to the throat of the unconscious man in the seat next to him. Although it hurt damn much, he finally could touch the spot where he supposed to be the artery and pressed his trembling fingers slightly down. He closed his eyes, praying he would find a pulse and it seemed like an eternity before he felt the up and down of it.
He let out a sigh and coughed painfully – for a moment he had totally forgotten he caught a cold. It sounded so … ridiculous.
And then Steve coughed and coughed again. He drew his hand back to let it hold his chest to lessen the pressure on it because it felt as if an elephant's weight sat on his ribs. When his dry hacking had stopped, his belly tried to empty itself as it was churning and when he thought he would be sick he undid his seatbelt, knowing it wouldn't be the best to puke upside down, but unfortunately he performed it without thinking further. He fell flat onto his head, letting out a parched yell of surprise, then moaning as another jagged pain exploded in his head.
Steve thought he was out cold, but as he was still thinking, he had to be awake. He opened his eyes, the world was spinning like a record and the Commander blinked a few times to get focused, to help Danny because he needed him.
Steve gulped down the bile rising up into his throat once more, but his stomach wouldn't settle down again and soon he lost the battle and his body was maneuvered violently to the car's window just in time to drop his food forcibly in a noisy splash. It wasn't much because he hadn't been very hungry the past days (he didn't mention it to Danny, Kono or Chin because they would have sent him home, but he had been vomiting twice while on the case and then he didn't dare to eat anything else because he feared he would be sick in front of them), so he was more likely dry heaving onto the ground than really puking. He coughed intensely while spitting out the rest of the icky bile to the side of the car, with the back of his right hand wiping away beads of sweat that were daring to run into his eyes.
When the burning had settled down a little bit he leaned back onto the passenger door. Steve felt miserable and he just wanted to pass out, to sleep because that was what he needed more than anything else (okay, medicine and water sounded pretty nice, too).
But Steve couldn't give in now, he wasn't somebody who gave in that easy and he was damned if he let a small cold (and a rollover) take him down.
So he forced his eyes open, placed his shaking hands on the ground and pushed himself up, crying out in sheer pain as he did so, but he didn't stop proceeding. He had noticed the pain he was feeling in the chest was getting more intense as he moved away his left hand too far away from his ribs and even though some ribs of his right side were at least cracked, too, they weren't aching as much as the ones on the other side.
He swallowed and moved on, crawling through the glass and the dirt, paying no attention to the fragments of glass cutting open his hands.
"Danny," he whispered, catching his breath, grasping Danny's hand, which was sagging freely through the air, pulling at it, trying to haul him back to consciousness.
"Danny," he called louder.
When he didn't get a response, he examined his friend a little closer by feeling carefully for broken bones and he guided his right hand to the collarbones, to the ribs, and, around the steering wheel, to the… lower parts of Danny's body.
Satisfied he didn't seem to have anything broken, he took an extensive look at the gash that was bleeding on the side of his face. It didn't seem to be anything serious, maybe he would only have a concussion, but head injuries shouldn't be underestimated, he knew that.
Suddenly, he had the idea to check his cell phone, maybe it was still working and he was able to call for help.
'You're a smart person, McGarrett, really, not calling 911 even though you might had the chance to call for help. Damn idiot,' he teased himself, while extracting his phone from smeary pants.
No reception.
Oh god, was he in some thriller movie where everything, just everything, goes wrong, like having an accident and then accidentally not having any reception?
This was getting lousy.
Slowly, he backed his hand away and prepared himself to the next thing he was planning to do- he was letting Danny fall on him so he could get them both out of the wreck and secured because, even if he wasn't able to smell anything through the congestion in his nose, he was pretty sure there was gas leaking out and he didn't exactly want to be part of an explosion.
He knew the risk of a whiplash in their situation, but he couldn't just sit there and wait for either a rescue team showing up, an miracle or an explosion. He led his thump to the buckle and pushed it down, waiting for Danny's body to slump forward onto his own rattled body.
But the brunette didn't expect the cop to be so heavy, he was pushed hard onto the ground, top, or whatever of the car and his ribs were, once again, shoved down by harshly and if he had anything left, he was certain he would have vomited on Danny. He bit onto his lip to avoid crying out and his mouth filled with blood shortly after.
Steve tried to inch forward with Danny on his stomach, but he could barely move, let alone open the door.
'Wow, supreme genius McGarrett, now Danno's taking a nap on you and you can't do anything about it because your thorax is disintegrating because of his obese ass!'
He coughed loudly and his face scrunched up in pain as a deafening sneeze left his body and he propelled forward and bumped with his forehead into Danny's back of head. He closed his eyes a few minutes, to rest, to let his body recover from the recent collision, and he missed his body drifting into slumber.
