No Stranger to Hell
Chapter 21
I thank all of you who were kind enough to comment on the last chapter. If you've enabled pm's I will always try to respond to your comments. If you have any suggestions as to what might make the story or my writing better, I'd be happy to hear them.
SPNGran once again braved the cannons and performed her duty to heroic proportion. Any remaining booboos are mine.
Disclaimer: Never made any money from this and am convinced that old saying about 'not missing what you've never had' is bunch of hooey.
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Last Chances
Am I a prisoner?
He'd already tried opening his eyes but the vague blobs he could make out were only disorienting so he squeezed them shut again.
I'm fucking freezing!
His body tells him he's plunged into an icy ocean; his bones ache with cold, but when did that happen? He wonders if maybe he's dreaming about his long ago cold water training in BUDS but decides the physical sensations are too strong even for a nightmare.
Who are they?
He knows there are people surrounding him. He hears voices but they make no sense.
What language is that? It can't be English. If it is, I'd understand it, right?
Hands pull at his clothing but he's now shivering so much he can't form words to tell them to stop and is reduced to groaning his protest.
Why is it so cold, dammit?!
He tries to fight as fabric is tugged away from raw feeling skin and the air grows more frigid though he didn't think it even possible. It spurs his efforts to escape his captors.
"Hey, hey! Knock it off dammit!", admonished a familiar voice. "Steven! Stay still!"
The voice sounded very like Danny's. He paused in his battle against the hands that pin his arms and legs but, suddenly feeling as though he's falling, he flails out to keep himself from plummeting to an unknown fate.
"Ow!" he hears as the back of his hand smacks against skin.
He tries to tell him he was only trying not to fall but his words seem to assemble in no particular order. They made no sense even to him.
Then someone threw their weight across his body and he arches up trying to dislodge whoever is laying atop him. Not yet completely successful at finding his voice he yells, "Geh offa me you muth'fkr!
"Calm down, Steven! We're only trying to help you!" said the voice again.
Once again pausing in his struggle, he opens his eyes to blink many more times before finally bringing a face into focus; one that is much too close to his own. Worried blue eyes were staring down into his from only inches away.
"Dnny?" he gasped out, ceasing at least his voluntary movements while he panted for breath; shudders still wracking his body. "Whuh . . . why'r you on toppa me?"
"I'm trying to keep you from hurting yourself or these nice people who are trying to help you." answered Danny in what he hoped is a soothing tone.
Steve tries to look beyond his friend and can make out that he's where he really, really, didn't want to be – in a hospital.
"You with us now?" asks Danny, still staring down at him, forearm pressed against his friend's collarbone to keep him from either rising from or falling off the ER bed. The transfer to it from the EMT's gurney had triggered some sort of struggle but, other than continual shudders, Steve seemed to have given it up.
"Yeh, but why'm I here?" he asked, blinking up at his surroundings. "Mm' I sick?" he asked, hoping that would explain why he's mostly naked and surrounded by strangers while his best friend lays draped over him.
"You could say that." replied Danny, as he lifted himself off his friend's body now that Steve seemed at least a little more with it. Patting him on a bare shoulder he said, "You have a really nasty infection, Steven. It went from mild to raging in zero-to-sixty. We were lucky to find you when we did before it got even worse."
"Oh." said Steve still looking as though he may not be entirely convinced of that fact before he gasped out, "Ss cold . . . 'mm freez'n."
"Yeah, babe. I know that's how it feels but if you stay still so they can give you some meds, you'll feel better in a little while. They're trying to cool you down."
"Arready too c'cold." said Steve, voice trembling with the iciness that had invaded his core.
"No, babe, you're too hot." corrected Danny, "Your temperature is way too high.
He took a step away from the bed as several leery caregivers cautiously approached their formerly combative patient. They'd been waiting for the go ahead to resume treatment and one of them, a beefy male orderly, appeared to have an eye beginning to swell.
"Nn . . . need warm." Steve ground out with his jaw clenched; trying mightily to keep his teeth from chattering as his body was continually wracked with chills.
"Commander, we're going to put some ice packs on you to try to get that temperature down. It's much too high right now, that's why you're feeling so bad." said someone beside the bed, most likely a doctor, sounding at once sympathetic and annoyed.
"No, m'cold." insisted Steve as he curled on his side to draw himself into a trembling bundle.
With gentle but insistent hands and his friend's encouragements they managed to get the shivering man to uncurl and lay on his back. Danny backed a little further away to stand arms crossed over chest, to give them as much room as possible to work but close enough to help if Steve slipped back into fever induced delirium and once again devolved into fight or flight mode.
While his arms were being palpated Steve, continuing to shiver, turned his head and locked eyes with the worried man standing only a few feet from the side of the bed.
They were having difficulty finding another vein to begin a much needed antibiotic drip. Besides trying to hit a constantly moving target due to their patient's unintentional writhing and continual shivering, Steve's normally prominent veins weren't all that easy to access because of dehydration. Bruises were already forming under his skin from several unsuccessful sticks.
Finally, the nurse who'd been in the ER the last time he'd been here called out, "Got it!" She'd been working on a patient in another bay but they'd requested her assistance because she is the ER's acknowledged expert at sticking hard to find veins.
"Finally!" declared a balding man next to the bed, "Let's start that drip and get those ice packs on him."
Steve took his eyes off Danny to blink at a doctor he didn't recognize. At least it wasn't Dr. Farina. She'd be pissed for sure and, right now, it seemed as though the entire universe is pissed at him.
"Commander, we're going to give you something to help you relax." said the doctor.
"Kay." responded his patient; strong shudders still coursing through his body. Maybe being knocked out is a good idea right now. "Sounds good." added the shivering man.
From the corner of the room, Danny watched as another bag of fluid was hung from the metal stand beside the bed; its tubing quickly threaded through an IV drip monitor. Other bags of fluids were left as gravity drips. A nurse approached with a syringe and stuck the needle into a port on one of the drips then pushed in the plunger. She adjusted the flow and, satisfied with the rate of infusion, patted Steve on the arm and said, "You'll be pretty sleepy in another couple of minutes. Just go with it, commander."
Steve once again sought out his friend and their gazes steadied on one another while people bustled about. After barely more than a minute Danny could see that, though he continued to shiver, all the tension had left Steve's body right before his eyes finally closed.
The worried detective was tempted to breathe a sigh of relief but there were too many questions left to answer before he could do that.
When Steve recovers from this latest setback will he be able to start the new drug? Will the infection hamper the drug's effectiveness? Would this cancel the proposed treatment altogether? Does this mean that Steve is now doomed to be on dialysis for the rest of his life?
Danny sighed mightily and stepped out into the hallway to call the team with an update. Whether he likes it or not, Steve is going to need his ohana.
….
Hisao and Junichi know they've been given a second, (and last), chance to get the job done. Their oyabun had been generous in his decision to let them try to make up for the error of letting the thief escape. They couldn't afford to screw-up their reprieve.
All they have to do is find the gaijin and kill him. The killing wouldn't be all that difficult, they'd done it before, and now, they knew better than to take the not very dangerous looking thief for granted. Mr. Nozaki ordered them to notify his Hawaiian contacts and have them put out the word to the organization's sources of information for all of Honolulu and beyond. Their people at the airports, Honolulu International and the smaller ones, hadn't yet spotted the man.
Of course the sea routes would have to be checked as well. Mr. Nozaki's contacts were even more numerous in the maritime industries. They'd find him as soon as he tried to get off the island. Their oyabun impatiently waived them off to go about their duty.
It won't be long, nodded the two henchmen to one another. Martin Shaftbottom is a dead man.
…
The forensics people had pulled prints from the button mechanisms in the tunnel and from some rolls of tape abandoned on the floor of it. AFIS came up with the names of John Boden, the teamster killed at the convention center, and that of another man who'd been one of the guys on the museum's temporary crew the day of the heist. Both men had records of petty theft and minor crimes in the past.
There was also an unidentified set of prints that had no match in the database. It would be interesting to locate its owner. The team had the strong suspicion the mystery fingerprints may be those of someone higher up the foodchain in this operation. These prints hadn't been found on any of the tools left in the tunnel, (implements required to actually do manual labor), they were only on the buttons that triggered mechanisms to open the doors at both ends of the tunnel. Surely someone who'd been so conscientious in planning the operation would have to ascertain for him or herself that the artwork was being handled correctly.
In addition, it appeared as though the 'accidental' death of the teamster needed more looking into. Kono and Lori were disappointed in themselves for not thinking it had a connection to their initial investigation. The women doubled down on their efforts. They tore apart the late museum director's files and found a receipt for an overnight shipment from a local hauler. It had been contracted to be made on the last day of the trade show and gave the destination of a pier at Honolulu Harbor. The name of the ship wasn't listed but a look into the harbor master's records could probably provide that.
Now that there was suspicion of murder, they hadn't much trouble obtaining a warrant to search through the deceased's mail. In the late teamster's they'd found a dunning notice for the balance of money owed for purchase of four wooden crates that were to be delivered to the convention center. Apparently, Boden was killed before he'd taken care of it.
The connection between Loulea Convention Center and the state museum wasn't just a physical one. Now that most of the pieces were in place, all they had to do is locate buyer and seller – no problem.
…..
Steve hadn't been awake when he'd left so Danny had given the contact number to Tina with the request to call him if needed and asked if she'd relay the message to her patient that someone from the team would be back to see him this evening. He'd been at the hospital for hours and only when his partner had finally been declared stable did he feel he could return to HQ.
"I told him I didn't want to see him back on this floor." said the big nurse with a shake of her head. Tina was dismayed to recognize the man who'd been wheeled into the step-down unit two hours ago. Though he wasn't assigned to her, she'd traded patients with another nurse on the floor knowing this one needed a caregiver who was immune to his charms, (well, mostly immune). Her coworker was one who'd been taken with the handsome commander on his last hospitalization only a few days ago. Tina had no doubt McGarrett could easily manipulate the infatuated young woman. It was only a matter of time before the man would be wandering the hallways at all hours despite the order he remain in bed.
"Yeah, don't waste your breath, Tina. Believe me, I've been working with the guy for years. It's like dealing with a cat. You can talk to 'em 'till you're blue in the face but they're still gonna do what they're gonna do." said Danny.
"I know exactly what you mean." said the big nurse nodding her head in agreement. "Well, I'm on the job now and he isn't gonna get anywhere by batting those eyelashes at me." she said firmly, "I saw how he worked it last time. Some of the ladies here are way too easily swayed by that crap."
Danny had to chuckle. 'That crap' had been happening for years. Steve, a man as loyal to his woman as anyone he'd ever met, could get many miles out of a smile and the aforementioned batting of eyelashes. This calculated charm had served Five-0 well many times in the past to gain the cooperation of those who were reluctant to part with needed information. At first a bit disconcerting to witness, Danny had actually come to expect this weapon to be deployed when the situation called for it.
Actually, maybe it was a good sign that Steve was up to using his secret weapon again. After Catherine had left, there'd not been much evidence this talent even existed. Steve had been as focused as usual but the spark was missing.
Perhaps, despite his physical challenge, Five-0's leader is getting back at least a bit of his old self. Danny certainly hoped so. He'd missed him.
…
He'd only been awake for a few minutes when Fanning made an appearance. The doctor tapped and prodded and frowned but, so far, hadn't said much other than, "So, you just couldn't bear to be away from us, huh?"
"Tina already yelled at me." grumpily responded his patient. Besides feeling like crap, the sedative he'd been given hadn't yet worn off completely. It just added to the events over which he had no control and fueled his frustration.
"You sure don't do things the easy way." muttered the hematologist as he examined the newest bruising on the insides of his patient's arms.
"Yeah, that's what my team always tells me. One guy in particular." said Steve almost resignedly
"Can't imagine who that might be." snorted Fanning as he gestured for the man to sit up from his inclined position on the bed.
Checking the older bruising on his patient's back, and lifting the bandage to check the deep scratch that was the cause of this latest hospitalization, the doctor was pleased to note that the multi-colored splotches looked no worse and the deep scratch, though still angry looking, appeared to have begun scabbing over. The transfusions Steve had been given appeared to be helping with the bleeding issue, but they'd have to be even more watchful from now on for any signs of additional infection and the blood clots that can form in lungs and extremities due to septic shock.
"Well, you're fever is down thanks to the quick response by our worse-for-wear ER department." said Fanning, looking over the top of his wire-rimmed eyeglasses.
Steve couldn't help but look guilty. Tina had given him the lowdown on who in the ER he'd caused damage to. There were apparently several. Actually, he should probably just get a couple of twenty-pound boxes of chocolates and send them to the entire Emergency Room morning shift. Apologizing with candy is probably a good idea considering that his team has the reputation of occasionally needing the use of their services. Couldn't hurt.
"The scratch on your side that started all this doesn't look all that bad considering, but your arms looks like hamburger from all the bruising caused by multiple attempts to get a vein. You're lucky you didn't wind up with a central line. The rest of you doesn't look all that bad." deemed Fanning. "How do you feel?"
"Pretty much as you described my arms; like hamburger." chuffed Steve. "I'm really tired, even more than before if that's even possible."
"Well, it's good that we got control of the infection so quickly but I'm afraid you're not going anywhere for several days at the very least." said Fanning as he put his stethoscope back into his pocket.
"Think I figured that one out already." glumly responded his patient.
"I know this isn't what you want to hear but we're going to have to do some serious re-evaluation, Steve. We have to decide if the drug is still going to be effective since your body now has to deal with this infection. You'll be on some pretty strong antibiotics for several days yet."
Fanning had now removed his eyeglasses and in an unconscious reveal of his concern, (much like Danny's running his hands along the sides of his hair), he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Shan and I will be going over your latest readings and will come up with our recommendation for your treatment; whether there'll be any changes."
"You mean, whether I'm still a candidate to take the drug." said Steve trying not to reveal his own anxiety. If he couldn't take the new drug, (and if it didn't work), he's doomed to a life drastically different from his current one. Without the Navy or Five-0, what is he going to do?
Though McGarrett appears calm, Fanning noted the numbers on the silenced heart monitor's display. The rate had sped up considerably and was beginning to show a few pvc's. He knows that anxiety is probably compounding the mild tachycardia that had initially been brought on by the anemia.
"You know we're going to do our best for you." said the hematologist, hoping to somehow reassure his patient. But the man is much too sharp not to realize the consequences of any change in his proposed treatment.
"I know, Tom. I guess I wasn't prepared for something to go wrong even before I started the drug." sighed McGarrett.
"Steve, despite your promise to follow my instructions, I don't think you took me seriously when I OK'd you to leave the hospital."
McGarrett started to protest but Fanning interrupted by saying, "I didn't say don't go back to work but I obviously didn't think I had to. You're a smart man and I thought you could figure out that one by yourself."
Steve dropped his head before looking back up with his face blank but Fanning knew the man would probably be blushing if it was even possible considering the anemia.
"Yeah, I know." said McGarrett, "What I did was pretty dumb."
"Yes, it was." nodded Fanning before taking a breath to say, "Look, I know you're used to being physically active but, right now, that's not an option. You've got to slow it down. You've got to be very, very, careful right now. Any little thing, like that scratch, or becoming too tired or putting yourself in any situation detrimental to your health can have incredibly serious consequences for you."
Steve nodded. "I get it. If I didn't believe it before, putting myself back in the hospital has hammered it home. Trust me."
Fanning nodded at Steve's acknowledgment of the error in judgment that had almost been fatal. "But mostly, Steve, you've got to give your friends a chance to help you. From what I've seen, you've got some really good ones."
Steve swallowed and looked away before bringing his eyes up to meet his doctor's earnest gaze,
"I know." he said barely loud enough to hear.
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NOTE: From here on, medical stuff will have to carry a disclaimer similar to the one carried by docudramas. It will be 'based on'. Will try not to stray too far from reality but will be taking a bit of literary license if neccessary.
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