So, Colby and Danny are safe, but - oh dear, I feel some more whumpage coming on. Sorry, Danny, but you're just so adorable when you're suffering! Besides, I need to keep my whumpage loving reviewers happy!

Don't worry, there's some good old fashioned snarkiness too, and even more in chapter eight ;o)

Calculated Risk - Chapter Seven

In Safe Hands

The rotors were still turning, dangerously close to the top of his head, but Steve McGarrett didn't care. His flight trainer would have thrown a damn library at him, let alone a single book, for the stunt he'd just pulled. 'Unsafe egress' from an aircraft broke every rule in the book. Steve still didn't care.

All he cared about was reaching the gurney in front of him, as fast as pounding legs could get there – so fast that the EMTs around it had to move smartly aside before they were skittled to the ground.

Don Eppes was right beside him, making an equally instinctive beeline for the other gurney beside it – both of them skidding to a perfectly synchronised halt beside the figures that lay huddled upon them. Cocooned in blankets, it was only a tangled mop of blond hair that told those two figures apart.

Beyond their relief, both still dreaded what they'd find. Steve, especially, was expecting the worst. The Yakuza were sickeningly famous for their ruthless brutality, and… oh, God. Those bastards.

Staring down at the cuts and bruises that covered Danny's face, he felt his breath hitch in his throat – a groggy apology behind him only adding to the fury, the tide of rage, that now surged through him.

"I'm – I'm sorry, Steve. I – I tried to protect him, but… but they – they were just too strong."

Reminded that Danny hadn't been the only victim of Noshimuri's revenge, Steve turned around, hoping that Colby didn't misinterpret the fresh anger he felt as he studied his friend's haggard face. It wasn't as bloodied as Danny's, but there was still a mass of bruises along Colby's left cheekbone – testament enough that everything he'd done to try and protect Danny had been brutally subdued.

"I know you did, Colby. It's okay, we got you back, and you're gonna be okay," he said at last, forcing a smile through a fresh surge of fury – knowing from the tremor than ran through his voice that Don Eppes felt the same way.

"Yeah, we got you back, Colby. You're going to be alright, so is Danny. Just let the EMTs work on you here, okay?"

A shaky smile was welcome, of course. But all three of them still needed professional confirmation. Unsurprisingly for what he'd been through, Danny's eyes were closed, and he was worryingly pale. He was silent too, despite the activity around him, and that always set Steve's alarm bells ringing – his next question to one of the EMTs as much for Colby's benefit, and Don's, as it was for his own.

"How is he?"

Given the state of his friend, the EMT's reply was reassuringly positive as he checked Danny's vitals.

"He's taken a real beating, and at least two hits from a stun gun. But there's no sign of internal injury, so… yeah, he'll be okay."

Slightly happier now, Steve nodded. A weak but unmistakeable voice made him all out ecstatic.

"T – Tol' you I could swim. Distance medal, N - Newark High, 1991… record still stands, so - so there."

Pain had threaded every word, but that irrepressible smile was undoubtedly there. And when Danny's eyes finally opened, all the tension and terror of the last few hours melted away. The weight of the world lifted from Steve McGarrett's shoulders.

"Hey, I never doubted you for a second, Danno," he grinned, gently ruffling Danny's hair – everything else that he was trying to say understood, and returned, in two sleepily blinking eyes. Beyond the pain and exhaustion within them, the unbreakable bond between them was still there.

But then Danny's smile faded slightly, reminding them both that he was still badly hurt – a deepening wince, and a worrying slur in his voice, causing a fresh buzz of activity beside him.

"St've? I – I don' feel so good."

Now it was Steve's turn to move smartly aside as the EMT set to work again, frowning as he pressed his stethoscope against Danny's chest.

"I'm getting an irregular heartbeat," he reported at last, studying two sets of welts on Danny's neck. "The shocks from that, and the exertion from that swim has knocked his rate out of rhythm."

He'd spoken calmly enough, as EMTs could unfailingly do, but the urgency beyond was obvious. Two extra pairs of hands now lifted Danny's gurney, and then Colby's, into the ambulance behind them.

With so much equipment inside it, and two briskly working EMTs, there wasn't much room left. But that didn't stop Steve and Don from planting themselves, immovably, at the foot of Colby's bunk. And Steve's heartrate wasn't far away from the 'beep' 'beep' 'beep' on the monitor next to Danny's. It was unnaturally fast. Worryingly erratic. And Danny's face was now haggard with pain.

Whatever the EMT then injected into his IV took that suffering away, with merciful speed. As the drugs took effect, so the wildly jumping signal settled into a steadier, more natural rhythm.

Even so, Steve's heart still felt like it was going to burst out of his chest as he watched his friend – oblivious to the sudden acceleration beneath him, or the wail of sirens that now cleared the way to the nearest ER.

Yes, his partner was safe, his condition visibly improving, but – no, that still wasn't enough. It didn't stop Steve McGarrett from making two injured friends the same heartfelt promise.

'I'll find them. I swear to God, I'll find them. And I'll make them wish they'd never been born.'