I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.

Notes: So it took some time, but here's Steve's POV. The muse hadn't quite found the right thing for the longest time. I hope this delivers because sometimes a delay like this winds up feeling disconnected. The usual caveats apply: not a doctor. Not beta'd. Didn't quite bother to research much of anything at all medically speaking ... etc. All for fun!

H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O

Word of the Day: Judgement- the ability to make considered decisions or come to sensible conclusions; an opinion or conclusion; a decision of a court or judge; a misfortune or calamity viewed as a divine punishment.

Part 2: to Cacophony

Steve watched, eyes wide, pacing worriedly back and forth as the EMT's readied Danny for transport. Backboard, neck brace, oxygen mask ... hell, they'd done just about the whole nine yards in less time than it had taken Steve and the rest of his team to carry Danny out of the remains of the building. The EMTs were intent on Danny's care. Hyper-vigilant about his breathing and his struggling vitals.

"Come on, come on," Steve coughed the words out as he watched the huddle over his partner's body. He coughed again, each of his shallow inhales daring to rattle a bit inside his chest. An EMT glanced his way and he shook his head to negate any need of care, his gaze authoritatively aimed at his downed partner. The man didn't agree, but he nodded in understanding; looked away, his focus once more on Danny. At least for the moment.

Too long. They'd taken way too long to get Danny out. And the chance they'd taken in moving him by only using their hands? Without any of the right tools at their disposal? Nothing at all? His entire team had balked at first. He'd been adamant though.

Now, Steve glanced down at his gloved fingers in dismay not knowing what to think about the potential aftermath of his orders. At war with himself for what he'd taken responsibility for doing.

Using his own hands to stabilize Danny's head and neck the entire way? What the hell had he been thinking? Just suppose ...

"Damn it," he rasped out as he scrubbed hard at his face against that next terrible thought, wiping away sweat and smearing smudged lines of soot down his cheeks. Danny had been out of it but not wholly unconscious. He'd been confused, in pain. As they'd begun to lift him, he'd tried to struggle and Steve had nearly lost his fragile hold on Danny's neck. Then Lou had tripped over debris, cursing in alarm over the bad stumble and yet managing through some divine bit of luck to keep his own grip steady.

Steve had doubts now though. As he watched the dire scene continue to play out in front of him, insisting that he'd done the best he could based on the circumstances dealt him, was giving Steve far too little comfort.

The EMTs hummed indecipherable words amongst themselves. Quiet demands were made. Numbers were called out; odd, silent orders were somehow given and shared. The team was just as good as his own when it came to the fluid ability to work as one. They were in tune with each other within their specialized world. But Steve's world had been turned upside down and he'd found himself helpless to do more than make what could become a very bad decision. He'd been rushed into a singular option that he hadn't wanted to make. And again that terrible thought leaked into the forefront of his mind. Just suppose his orders hurt Danny more? Caused some horrific level of yet unseen damage? Throughout their escape from the damaged building, Steve had only whispered a litany of reassurances into Danny's ear as best as he could. Things he'd certainly meant. None of what he'd whispered so urgently had been thoughtless or untrue.

Yet what the hell good would any of that really do? It was stupid ... stupid and maybe even reckless.

No one was doing that kindness for Steve now either. Other than that one studious glance about his own needs, he was being ignored and in all actuality? That was fine with him because he sure as hell wasn't the priority.

Steve's face twisted unhappily as a low moan reached his ears. Barely a second later, a wet-sounding muffled cough made him visibly wince. Though unconscious, Danny was still coughing heavily, the rattle in his lungs already a problematic wheeze. Like Steve and the rest of his team, Danny had similar dark sooty marks around his nose and mouth from smoke inhalation.

Too long. They'd taken way too long to get him out. Going round and round inside his head, Steve brutally lambasted himself for all of his recent decisions. He cursed under his breath, the simple sound irritating his own lungs and spurring on a heavier coughing spasm. He spat a thick wad of phlegm to the ground and wiped at his lips. Through a reactive spate of tears as he argued another spasm, he glared at Danny's hand, and then his fingers. Lastly, his foot, willing something to just twitch. But Danny was limp. Pliable. Except for coughing and the erratic heave of his chest, he wasn't moving at all.

Why wasn't he moving? Danny was always moving. Always. He was a bundle of nerves, high energy, and constant motion. What Steve was seeing now was incomprehensible and potentially his fault.

Why the hell hadn't he taken a few seconds to look for a plank of wood to keep Danny flat? A damaged door... anything? Surely there had to have been something that might have made due as a litter to better keep Danny as flat as possible? But Steve remembered looking around and having seen nothing. He'd had no choice in the end. Heat and smoke - the race against a fast moving fire - had made the decision for him. The building had been, and still was, an inferno. There'd soon be nothing left of it at all.

"Come on," Steve rasped out as the EMTs continued their triage, needing to cough again from the bitter hitch in his own throat. With anger in his eyes, he waved off that same EMT who bravely stood tall by the gurney to pointedly stare his way. His professional needs to also care for Steve as a patient were on the rise; his eyes intent and his posture more determined to battle Steve's iron will. Steve's lips adopted a firm line and he stood just as tall, nonplussed when the uniformed man literally dared to poke a meaningful finger in his direction.

Even from afar, a judgement had been made against him and he was next. Come hell or high water ... Steve was next on that man's short list.

Steve's expression darkened and he ignored the EMT's meaning, his thoughts far too many places at once as he glanced at his watch surprised that time had barely budged. He frowned then, automatically making a mental reconnaissance of the chaotic scene. Lou was nearby, partnered with the HPD contingent. The firemen were well entrenched in battling the blaze.

Chin? Kono?

For a long time, he couldn't find either of them and Steve paused, searching frantically amongst the rapidly moving figures for his two remaining team members. His eyes flickered over to the second ambulance, registering the arrival of a third and already resolutely determined that this third not be for him. Then he saw them. Chin was at the second ambulance, hovering by his cousin. Sitting on the rear bumper, a medic was catering to Kono's apparently broken arm. Another was taking her vitals as she sucked in lungful after lungful of oxygen. She coughed, gagged and sputtered, Chin by her side.

Chin looked up as if sensing Steve's focus and provided him with a simple thumb's up signal and Steve sighed in relief. She'd be all right. Though coughing, Chin was also fine.

With all of his team once more accounted for, Steve's attention refocused back on Danny where the EMT's were stalled over him, the stretcher still just about ready to be loaded into the ambulance.

"What the hell is going on?" Steve complained under his breath. Seconds seemed like hours to him when all of a sudden something changed and the medical team was moving. Nearly taken off-guard, Steve surged forward practically lunging into the rear of the ambulance on their heels.

"How's he doing? We had to ...," Steve asked as the door slammed closed and the bus started moving. "I had to move him ... dammit."

He sat there then helpless to do anything more but continue to watch and wait. "I had to move him," Steve whispered softly to himself. He curled his fingers through his filthy hair known that he carried the heavy odor of smoke with him. It was in his clothes, his hair and stuck in his sinuses. He could even taste it with each throaty cough. And all of that should only have made his decision to move Danny all the more valid. Yet those facts were doing little to soothe his mind as his eyes focused on the cervical collar wrapped around Danny's neck.

"Here," a voice demanded in his ear as an oxygen mask was forcibly placed over his nose and mouth. "Don't take it off ... breathe."

"I'm fine," Steve complained as that same medic stared unyieldingly into his face, his hand firmly on the oxygen mask until Steve managed to nod. He gave in then, holding the mask himself, agreeing to keep it in place.

"We're getting him more stabilized," the medic said about Danny as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Steve's upper arm. "You though? I'm not sure how the hell you're on your feet ... and you're not going to be good to anybody if you keel over now."

Steve nodded again, his eyes briefly closing as he momentarily relinquished control to the EMT. He felt sick, nauseous; his chest felt as if a rubber-band was wrapped too tightly around it. He breathed in, then out as he'd been told. Slowly. Methodically. The oxygen alone was already making a big difference in how he was feeling and the man was right: if he didn't take care of his own needs, he'd be good for nothing and for nobody.

"What happened in there?" The EMT asked quietly.

"Gas leak," Steve whispered, his voice cracking from smoke and strain. "At least, that's what we think."

He shook his head helplessly. His team had been tracking down a lead on a homicide case and what had happened that morning had nothing to do with them. It was an accident or maybe even related to some negligent fault of a hasty construction crew, but it had zero to do with them. Nothing at all to do with their investigation or why they'd been there in the first place. It was ironic really. A simple case of bad timing and being at the wrong place.

Rocking in time to the speeding ambulance, Steve knuckled the space between his eyes, wincing at the pain he caused himself. He blinked his eyes open, his vision taking a few seconds to re-focus. Danny's forehead seemed permanently furrowed in distress and pain. However, he still wasn't moving. Blood trickled from his left ear, more drifted sluggishly from his nose under the oxygen mask.

A surge of fear twisted Steve's gut and he fell mute. Helpless to do more than continually punish himself for what might be, he sat motionless on the small bench in the ambulance.

H5O* H5O

Hours later, Steve stood hunched over Danny's hospital bed in the Intensive Care Unit at Queens. He didn't have much time before he was shooed back to his own room, the threat of poor oxygen sats looming dangerously over his head. Like most of his team, smoke inhalation was his biggest woe. In addition to that though, he was sore and painfully stiff from a myriad of scrapes, bruises and lacerations he hadn't even known about.

Most of his team were now temporary residents of Queens. Kono had her arm set and was resting nearby. Chin had fared the same as he, needing to stay over to monitor a set of iffy vitals.

Only Lou had gotten off the easiest of them all, lucky to have been released to go home after a once-over.

Steve sniffed a pensive sound under his breath as he looked down at Danny and promptly failed at stifling a heavy cough. Danny had been cleaned up and the traces of dirt, soot and blood were now gone. His face was scraped and bruised, barely visible under a restrictive oxygen mask. Despite being unconscious, he looked uncomfortable in the cervical collar he'd be required to wear for a few more hours.

But other than severe muscular strain, the doctors had found nothing wrong with Danny's neck or spine. Adding insult to smoke inhalation, he had a concussion and more than a few contusions, too. However, he would be fine with proper pain management and time. Nonetheless, Danny had yet to regain a full state of consciousness. He remained in a half-twilight state brought on by injury and medication.

Steve blamed himself even though the doctors had reassured him that he hadn't done anything wrong. Even Lou had said the same after recounting the state of the building and the fire marshall's confirmation of the gas leak. The thing had been a ticking time-bomb and they'd had no choice. So yes, Steve had done the right thing and yet, he still didn't feel blame-free. That dangerous sense of knowing what his decision might have caused still lurked inside his head. That damned 'what if' refused to let him go completely.

"We all got out," Steve whispered hoarsely as Danny's face crinkled in blind confusion and a flux of pain. "Hey, hey ... you're okay. Just breathe through it, Danno."

Instead of hearing him, Danny moaned and gave out with a ragged cough, the sounds muffled by the oxygen mask. His fingers clenched and then loosened in the bedding, another moan echoing softly as he failed at moving his head.

Daring to smile gently, Steve felt a flare of relief by seeing these weak movements which further compounded the fact that Danny would be fine ... that he was rousing and slowly coming back to center.

"Take it easy ... breathe, buddy," Steve murmured. He was relieved but not wholly satisfied. As he beat himself up for what could have happened despite hearing the doctors' reassurances, Steve found himself wanting more and more. Until Danny opened his eyes and looked at him, Steve could only guess at his partner's discomfort. He could only assume - believe the doctors - that Danny would truly be okay until Danny opened his mouth to lob some sort of sarcastic comment at him, a hand flailing wildly in his direction.

"Shhh. You're going to be okay. Rest ... sleep ... I'm here," Steve said as Danny's face twisted again. The confusion and his damnable feeling of claustrophobia that the combined use of oxygen mask and cervical collar together likely inflicted were increasing his level of distress. Though the doctors might disagree there, this was an innate truth which Steve fully believed in. Without a doubt, as Danny roused more but failed at truly waking, no amount of pain medication or sedation would ever alleviate this particular stress and so, Steve reached out, seeking to calm him as Danny's breathing noticeably altered.

Steve reached out, his hand finding a spot just above the strap to the oxygen mask. His fingers traced gently along Danny's temple, his thumb falling on the deep creases in his forehead where Steve rubbed a gentle circle of sorts.

"Hey ... hey," Steve breathed out, a smile in his tone when he thought he saw Danny mouth his name, though part of him was sure that hadn't actually happened. Nonetheless, Steve continued talking, hoping that Danny might hear or find some comfort in knowing he wasn't alone.

"Yeah, yeah ... I'm here. Not going anywhere, buddy."

Steve stood there not knowing if he was doing any good at all. Hunched over the bed, he now found himself oddly willing the stressed twitching of Danny's hands to calm where he once craved their action; demanding that Danny's erratic breathing find a happier, quieter cadence while he rolled his thumb gently up, down and around on his forehead. Wishing that Danny would just open his damned eyes a little bit so he could see for himself that he'd be all right. Instead, Steve found himself murmuring the contrary when Danny drew in a deeper breath, his chest seemingly hitching in pain.

"Easy. Easy ... come on, buddy ... take it slow," Steve murmured worriedly as Danny's face scrunched up more and he gagged again, a sharp cough on its heels. Danny's pain was obvious and Steve stood back in alarm, ready to call the nurse or doctor, fully understanding what that chest-deep ache felt like as he fought to stifle a similar spasm. He watched, wary, as Danny's cough subsided to a wheeze. Hesitating to reach out again, but finally doing so to resume that same circular motion across his friend's forehead.

"Shhh. You're going to be okay," he repeated, knowing that he had to wait longer for Danny to open his eyes because his partner simply needed more time.

"Rest ... sleep, Danny," Steve whispered as he watched Danny's expression begin to ease, tense muscles relaxing one by one. He stood there, whispering nonsensical things, his thumb never ceasing in its course. Amazed when Danny's breathing finally ... finally evened out as if he might be ... listening? Possibly aware of Steve's presence?

"Hey? Can you hear me, Danno?" He asked, suddenly realizing that Danny ... did.

"You can, can't you," Steve said in wonder as he watched a peaceful change come over Danny's face. "Get some rest ... I'll wait," he whispered quietly, utterly relieved that this - just being here - mattered enough.

He would remain there then, steadfast. Ready to flatly decline the pending demands that he, too, return to his room to rest. All the while, murmuring reassurances while Danny tiredly mouthed his name again and the heavy, pained lines around his eyes smoothed as he gave in to sleep.

~ End. ~