Fasten your seatbelts...
Steve lay face down on the floor. Eyes closed, he couldn't see the beautiful sunset. He didn't feel the refreshing breeze that was so welcome after such a hot day. For the first few seconds, the only thing he knew was the coolness of the tile on his cheek.
And it felt good. Until it didn't.
He needed to get up. Something didn't feel right. But he couldn't.
His head hurt too much to move and his lungs were on fire. Bad combination. But he didn't care. If he let go, none of it would matter. The pain would stop.
But he kept coming back to the fire in his chest. Something was burning.
Something in the kitchen. His kitchen.
Oh shit.
He pushed off the floor in slow motion, head foggy, weighed a ton. Felt like he might puke. One hell of a hangover. But it wasn't.
Must have been hit on the head. There was something wet in his hair, dripping down the back of his neck. Couldn't think straight. Except…
Dinner was burning.
He was having dinner with someone. Danny. Where was Danny? Why would he let dinner burn?
Looking around, Steve turned too quickly. A hazy, smoky room spun around without him. And he couldn't keep up with it. He stumbled, catching himself on a chair.
Dinner was on fire.
Stop that first. Then Danny.
But Danny, he had to find his partner. He should be here.
"Danny? You here?" His voice loud and hollow in his head. "Danny? You alright? Danny!"
He switched off the stove, moving the pan into the sink, running the tap. Welling his hands to catch some water, splashing his face. Fresh air, he needed fresh air. There was a surge of panic when he almost couldn't get the window open. Then, the outside came rushing in and he greedily sucked in as much clean air as he could.
Adrenaline kicked in with a vengeance, only adding to his dizziness. But Steve powered through it to call out for his friend again.
"Danny?"
The silence was a concern. The smoke detector wasn't going off. All he could hear was the ocean and the wind, yet even that was muffled through his ringing ears.
His eyesight zoomed in and out, and he crumpled to the floor. "Danny?" Crawling, he searched for his partner.
Strength giving out, throat resisting the acrid air, he went into a coughing spasm. Only made worse by bruised ribs. He couldn't take in even half a breath.
Help. He had to get help.
Reaching into his pocket, he prayed he still had his phone. He came up empty, and a wave of nausea curled him into a ball. No phone. Where was it?
He closed his eyes and composed himself. He could do this. Had to keep moving. Find his phone. Find Danny.
Steve had been mixed up and turned around before – in training and at work. He could do this. Crawling back to where he woke up; he prayed again that he'd find his cell phone.
First pass he found nothing. Then he focused and thought about how he must have landed. The phone might be farther to his left. He searched there and finally came up with it. Pushing speed dial, he called Chin.
No answer, so he left a message. "Chin, it's Steve. I can't find Danny. Come quickly."
He dropped the phone as his vision grayed out a bit. A few slow and steady breaths and he had his cell again, this time dialing 911. He mumbled his situation before losing consciousness completely. The phone, his only lifeline to the outside world, slipped out of his hand still connected to the operator.
/././
Chin glanced down at his phone as he slid behind the wheel. He was headed to pickup some take out food.
A missed call from Steve. Dammit.
He dialed the number only to get voicemail. Checking his messages, he listened to Steve's frantic voice. He sped off toward his friend's house, dialing Kono before he called HPD.
The fear in Steve's voice said it all.
Something was wrong, definitely wrong. He'd felt it all day. The unease that had been building over the weekend was now leaking out around the edges.
Chin stepped on the gas, flipping on his lights and sirens. His heart wanted to tear itself from his chest. Gripping the wheel, he forced himself to focus on the task. Get to Steve's place in one piece. Find out what the hell was happening.
Yet, so many thoughts flooded his mind. Had something happened with Eric? He should be on his way back to Jersey by now. Had it been a mistake to send him back?
Had Vitor's boss really left on that jet?
They'd all hoped it was over.
Chin knew hope was a funny thing. Dangerous in its laziness. You let down your guard just a bit because you hoped that the best possible thing would happen. But he knew all too well. Holding on to hope could kill.
Life demanded action.
His phone buzzed and he checked it, hoping to see Steve's name. But it was Max instead.
"Max, what is it?"
"I have some information for you, Lieutenant Kelly. Regarding Danny's friend in New Jersey, the restaurant owner."
"Can it wait? I'm on my way over to Steve's now."
"Is something wrong?"
He played it cool, not wanting to alarm his colleague. "Not sure. I'll call you back when I know."
Chin disconnected the call, not saying anything more. Max could wait.