Long chapter this time. This is when it all goes to hell. Thanks for all your reviews, so appreciated!


Chapter 2

By the time the Camaro pulls up to the ER entrance, Steve's not sure he can get up because damn, he feels just this shy of passing out. All he wants to do is lie down and to be able to get in a good breath and for his heart to stop trying to bust out of his chest but it's not happening.

The eyes Danny sets on him as he pulls the passenger door open are full of worry and he's beginning to share it. Something's really wrong.

"C'mon," Danny says, grasping his forearm. Steve can contain the hiss of pain when he's hauled upright but he can't hide the stumble when the world fades to black for a few seconds. He ends up with his arm over Danny's shoulders as they walk into the ER.

"Hey we need some help over here!" Danny hollers to the charge nurse and suddenly, there are more hands on him and he's sitting up on a chair in a triage room that reminds him of the nurse's office at Kukui High. He shivers, suddenly cold, gooseflesh breaking all over.

A nurse with a gentle smile takes his vitals and he sees her frown. He answers the questions she asks him mechanically, about the stabbing, how his heart's racing, about his difficulty breathing. His eyes seek Danny's throughout, knowing his partner will jump in if he forgets to mention anything. Danny's standing in the corner of the room, arms crossed, a do-not-mess-with-me scowl on his face but he gives Steve a half smile.

"Commander? Just follow me. We'll get you feeling better in no time."

Steve nods and pushes to his feet, pausing when it all goes black again. He blinks a few times and his vision clears enough for him to follow the nurse. He feels Danny fall in beside him and he can sense the hand hovering just behind his back. He glances upward and sighs inwardly as the nurse leads him to one of the trauma bays. He sits heavily on the gurney and takes the gown from her hand.

"Take off your clothes and put them in the bag. You can keep your underwear and socks. Lie down and I'll be back in a minute to draw some blood and put in an IV. Can you give him a hand?" she asks Danny.

"Yeah, sure," his partner says. When she's gone and the curtain is closed, Danny comes to stand in front of him, a concerned look on his face. "You need a hand?" he offers, using that tone he usually reserves for Grace. Steve wants to call him on it but he has trouble thinking straight.

"Help me get my boots off," he says instead, shivering hard. His joints ache and the pain in his gut is making it impossible for him to bend down all the way but he still tries.

"Steve? Steve! Holy- Don't… Guh, you weigh a ton," Danny grunts, grabbing his shoulders as he sags forward towards the floor.

"I'm good," he mutters after Danny pushes him back up until he's lying down.

"Right. You're good. You almost took a header off to the floor, you're good. And that's why your ass is parked in a trauma room after being in the ER for all of twenty seconds. Because you're good. Uh-huh. Very convincing. Just… here. Let me…"

It takes a couple minutes but he's in the stupid gown and curled on his side, the thin blanket doing nothing to ease the chills running through him. He's cold. Freezing, even. The nurse walks back in and ushers Danny out, saying something that has him practically running and pulling the curtain closed like his life depends on it.

"Commander? I need to take your temperature."

"Okay," he says, opening his mouth.

"Um, not there. Can you turn to your side?"

Understanding dawns in his mind and Steve winces. "Right." He turns and forces himself to relax as she does her work but he can't suppress the shivers running through him when the cool room air touches his back.

She pats his leg and he draws the blanket tight around him. "38.9," she says. He knows that means around 102. "I'm sorry. I know you're cold but it's just the fever. I need to put you on a monitor. The doctor will be here shortly."

"Okay," he huffs through chattering teeth. Fifteen minutes, an IV, an alarming number of blood vials and an EKG later, the ER doc shows up. He runs a bunch of exams, pulling the blanket and gown away from his chest, listening to his heart, his lungs, his abdomen. The oxygen coming from the cannula under his nose is cold and dry, making him itch. He listens to the doctor ask for an ultrasound while they draw some more blood. Danny's back, standing in the corner and he comes close.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

Steve shrugs, shaking his head. He's glad to be lying down. He aches. He feels heavy, tired, heart still beating too hard, too fast, chest tight to the point of pain. "About the same," he says. "They didn't throw you out?"

"Nah. They're letting me stay in lieu of family. Ah… unless you mind? "

"No," he says, shivering, teeth knocking together. Ugh… god I'm cold."

Danny, for once, doesn't say a word, just rubs his hand up and down his IV free arm, the small contact warming him a bit. He dozes until the doctor comes back, ushering Danny out for the ultrasound. He does his best to lie still as the man pours the cold gel on his skin and spreads it with the probe. The pain isn't so bad but he can't control the full body shivers as the probe slides over his abdomen. It's like the gel's leeching all the heat from his body, replacing it with a freezing touch. He breathes deep to try and still the tremors but it's not working. Instead, it's just getting worse, like someone is pouring liquid ice over his skin. He shivers hard, breath hitching in his throat. It's like the room's temperature has suddenly dropped to fifty below.

"Cold…" he huffs. "M' cc…col..dd…" he grinds out, his jaw locking, teeth chattering.

Alarms start to wail around him but he can't pay attention. The only thing that registers is the cold.

Before he knows what's happening, he loses control of his body, the shivering escalating into full-blown seizure-like spams. He's shaking so hard he can't draw a good breath, the muscles in his back, chest, arms and legs jerking and bucking with a depth of cold he's never, ever felt before; didn't even know existed. He couldn't even imagine he could feel so damned cold and not be submerged in arctic waters.

"Cold, cold… cold… so cold, he repeats over and over again. It's like he's trapped in a pool of dry ice, the cold making his bones ache to their very core. He's never been this deeply freezing before, not even during that fubar op in Siberia. Cold doesn't even feel like an adequate word.

He can't draw in enough air and his throat feels like it's choked with sand, like someone sucked all the moisture from his body. He's suddenly intensely, irrationally thirsty; he feels like he'll suffocate if he doesn't get water, like the air he's trying to draw in his lungs sticks to his throat like sludge, suffocating him.

"Water… cold… please… water… water," he begs.

Through it all, he hears the doc shout for a nurse, picks up on the urgency of his tone. He hears rushing footsteps and there's suddenly a confusion of voices around him, too many hands on his arms, alarms wailing all around him.

"Get a second line in, ASAP. I want two liters wide open! Damn. He's cyanotic. Get a BP on him now! Find me the veina cava."

"Commander, lie still. I need to put in another IV."

"Tryin… Cold… so cold… water… water. Please," he begs, trying to keep his arms still but failing. "Cold… dad…. Dad please…."

"BP's 96 over 40, tachy at 140. Resps are erratic."

"He's in going into shock. Veina cava is 80% collapsed on rebound. He needs those fluids now!"

"You need ABG's?"

"Yeah."

He grunts as he feels something stab his finger, something digging into the puncture. "Keep your hand still, sir."

"I can't get a vein! Carol? Hold his arm. Yeah. There. I got it! Second line is in."

Steve gasps in pain as he feels the needle pierce his skin, like a wasp's sting.

"God, he's so rigid… Sat's dropping: 90 and still falling."

"Commander, please don't move. We need to get some more blood."

"That line isn't… yeah. Hand me another cath. A 20. Okay, You…"

"Cold…. C.. Cold… water… want… water… please…."

"Sat is still falling! 87, 85… 82. "

"Geez.. C'mon… okay, no, I want an OR prepped stat. I have fluid in the abdomen, could be from the left mesenteric…"

"Chest is clear."

"Commander? Open your eyes. Look at me. Look at me!"

"Can't…. breathe…"

"Get the intubation kit and prep Ketamine and Versed. If he drops below 80 we'll have to intubate."

"You want him on a non-rebreather?"

"CRT?"

He feels someone taking his hand and squeezing a nail bed. "Four seconds. His hands are like ice."

"Okay, he's spiking his fever and if we don't stop this soon... Rachel get me some warm blankets. Did you get those cultures?"

"Dad… I…Don't… help… me… Help me…So cold…" In that moment, he's terrified. He doesn't know what's happening, if he can hold on. He doesn't want to die. He wants to live but he can feel himself slipping. He still hears his voice call out to his dad, begging, praying for help, for more time. The noise around him is deafening; alarms, voices and clatters of metal ring in his ears and he feels like he's drowning in the cacophony, losing his grip and sinking into a black hole of cold, noise and fear.

"Commander, keep your arm still. We need to draw some more blood, okay?"

"Tryin… So cold… so cold… Water. Water please… I need… Help me…" He huffs, willing his arms to still as he feels the prick of needles on both. He hisses with the pain but he's still shaking so hard and he just cannot make it stop.

Sharp, biting needles puncture his skin over and over again and he hears he nurses mumbling about not finding a good vein, about how badly he's doing. He keeps hearing his father's voice, telling him 'I love you, son,' and he wants to call out to him, wants to ask for his protection because somewhere in his mind, he's still a scared five-year old, wanting to be just like his dad. He shudders ever harder, his back muscles spasming painfully.

It goes on and on and on, time stretching in planes of incontrollable shaking, painful needles and bone-numbing, all-encompassing cold. And the fear's there too; cold, black terror, because it feels like he's dying and he can't fight back. He wants to scream but he can't find enough air to breathe, suffocating, throat parched and raw.

"Get a gram of acetaminophen and 600mg ibuprofen in, Carol."

He manages to open his eyes and searches the room, looking for something to hold on to. Somehow, Danny's still there, standing in the corner, blue eyes on his. Danny gives him half a smile and mouths a few words. He doesn't hear them but he knows well enough what's being said. Hang in there, babe. It'll be okay.

"Damn, I've never seen rigors this bad! He's got to be septic."

"Commander? Can you take these for me?"

A nurse is suddenly near his face, a small cup in her hand. She puts pills into his mouth and brings blessed cold water to his lips. He swallows greedily and somehow, the wracking tremors cease for a second, but only a second.

He can't keep going like this. He feels it, feels the energy draining out of him, like the air he can't force into his lungs. He can't breathe, can't…

"Help… me… Can't… Water… Please… help… help… Dad, dad, please… please… please… Dad please…" he says, the plea slipping from his lips before he can't stop it and somehow, he doesn't care. He's been hurt before, badly, but he wonders if this is it, what it really feels like to be dying. The thought circles his mind like a vulture, feeding on the fear.

He locks eyes on Danny again as the doctors keep working. Danny nods to him and moves closer, snaking a hand under all the wires and tubes by the monitor. He places it on his shoulder and squeezes. The touch is what Steve needs; something concrete to ground him, to keep him from flying apart. He rolls his head towards it and feels Danny's callused palm over his head. He knows he'll be ashamed of it if he comes out of this but he can't spare a moment to care right now. He's been afraid before but he's never been this terrified and he needs this.

Still, he feels the world slipping away, his lungs seizing with the muscles in his chest.

"We're losing him! Push a third litre, ASAP. And get those blankets on right now!"

"I don't… so… cold… so cold… water… water.. help me… please…"

"Shh. I know. It's okay," Danny says, and it really isn't.

Piles and piles of mercifully warm blankets are suddenly wrapped all around him and he curls into them, an inkling of warmth finally reaching the depths of his body. The desperate shaking slowly begins to ebb and after another few, interminable minutes, stops altogether, leaving him drained, washed out but alive. He feels Danny step back when a nurse asks him to but his eyes track him back to the corner. He draws in a breath, feeling his chest stretch out and oxygen fill his lungs. He forces himself to breathe through his nose, the cool oxygen flowing into his starved body, bringing back the clarity in his mind.

"Sats are coming up. 92, 94, 98."

"Get another temp, okay Susan?"

"He's stabilizing. Heart rate is coming down a bit. Hang some Tazo, 4 grams and get a rush on those blood cultures."

"Commander McGarrett? Steve? Can you hear me?"

He opens his eyes to find the blond nurse from before in his line of sight. "Yeah," he murmurs.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," he whispers. "Not so… cold anymore."

"Good. I'll take another temperature and let you sleep, okay?"

He grunts and groans, his back muscles sore as if he's been doing sit-ups for hours. His arms ache and his abdomen is a mass of burning pain.

"We'll get you something for the pain in a minute."

"Kay," he mutters, closing his eyes. He struggles to his side, carefully, as much as he can manage with all the tubes, wires and blankets. He hears the nurse tell the doctor he's at 40.5. It translates to about 105. In other words, he's got a hell of a fever, meaning, if he knows his field medicine well, he's got a raging infection from Hesse's little gift. He heard the word septic shock floating around and he knows how bad this is, how bad it can be, how it can still end.

"You all right, babe?"

He opens his eyes and nods tiredly. It feels like he's been swimming against the current for hours but the clock tells him the whole ordeal lasted at most twenty-odd minutes. "I heard the doc. They think it's sepsis from the shank."

"Yeah. They're taking you up for exploratory surgery in a few minutes. I'll give Mary Ann a call soon as they take you up. Okay?"

Steve shakes his head, his breathing still difficult. "No. She's… New York. Too far… Don't want to worry her."

"Hey. Family first, babe. She'd want to know."

"Doesn't even know I was in jail…"

"Steven."

"What..."

"Relax. I'll take care of it."

The argument stops there, an orderly walking in to take Steve up to the OR. He doesn't even have time to thank Danny for being there. They whisk him away to surgery and time becomes fragmented and broken.