AN: So sorry for the late update! This chapter was a bear to get through and I wanted to make sure I did it justice. There's a lot of stuff crammed into this chapter, so be prepared for a wild ride! As always, thank you to everyone reading and reviewing... I so appreciate all your encouragement! Huge thank you to SteveFan81 for the medical advice; anything incorrect in this chapter is my mistake, but SteveFan81 really helped me get the details in order.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hawaii Five - 0. Not a doctor either.

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse. Also descriptions of severe injuries

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Steve McGarrett didn't know what to do.

This was a first for his career, and it scared him more than anything else in this world could. Even as a SEAL, there was always some protocol in place, a procedure or a hierarchy he consulted on next steps in impossible situations. Here, no such thing existed. In this frozen hell, there was only himself and Danny.

Danny.

His partner was a mess, in the worst condition Steve had ever seen him. He was pale beneath the mass of cuts and bruises coloring his face, lips tinged blue. One eye was completely swollen shut and a dark purple lump colored his temple, blood dried and flaking on his chin and cheeksBreath coming out in harsh gasps, he was curled tightly into a ball in a futile attempt to keep warm. Pain lined the familiar face, matching the quiet moans that proved Danny was somewhat coherent.

He realized he'd been kneeling beside Danny, helplessly staring, for far longer than merely assessing the situation warranted.

Snap out of it, McGarrett!

The mental slap did little good. He still crouched, frozen beside a partner injured far more than his basic triage skills could cure. Emotions clouded his focus; helplessness, horror, hope dimmed by sorrow, and rage vied for his attention. Clothes soaked with rainwater, the cold was beginning to make his teeth chatter.

The cold… and suddenly, Steve had a direction.

Jumping to his feet, he sprinted to the kitchen. The coast was still clear, but he cuffed and gagged the still-unconscious guard to ensure it stayed that way. Checking his watch, he gave himself two minutes to set up some kind of audio warning in case someone entered the kitchen. After securing their location, he'd move Danny somewhere warmer and give SWAT the order to light the place up.

Opening the refrigerator door as wide as he could, he paused and glanced at his brother lying on the freezing metal floor. He didn't want to leave him, even for a few minutes. After so many hours without knowing where Danny was or if he was alright, Steve couldn't bear to let him out of his sight again. Legs heavy, he forced himself to move away from the door, but not without some final words of reassurance for semi-deaf ears.

"Hang on, Danno, alright? I'm here. You're okay, buddy."

Inhale, hold… two… three… four, exhale.

"Just hold on," he whispered.

~

Numb.

The cold had eaten away at Danny until he was a hollow husk of a man. His bones and sinew ebbed from his body with the meager heat he'd managed to retain. Drifting in a sea of gray and static, his world suddenly brightened with a thud.

If he had the strength, he would've frowned at the unexpected change. Things were penetrating the mist that seemed to have permanently latched onto him, erasing all of his pain. Now, as something new yet oddly familiar buzzed in his ear, he wondered if he was hallucinating. He'd watched Discovery Channel before, he knew how dangerous the cold could be. Even as his shivers began to taper off, he pondered the source of the dream.

Then he felt something touch his cheek.

It triggered a more violent tremor, perhaps from the shock of it all. Or maybe because the contact was warm - blessedly warm even though it was damp. The touch lingered, and Danny longed to lean into it as much as he could lest it be taken from him once more.

Another hand - it took Danny far too long to realize the source of the contact - joined the first. The touch was gentle, soothing, familiar, safe; everything that Darren lacked. A low rumble filtered through his ears - a voice perhaps - but it took strength that Danny lost long ago to comprehend the words. Instead, he focused all of his energy on the heat emanating from those hands, soaking it in like rays of sun after a winter of clouds.

All too soon, the touch disappeared, leaving Danny floundering in its wake. He desperately attempted to form words - a plea for his unknown savior not to leave him - but all that exited his mouth was a quiet moan. Fighting the numbness for the first time, he struggled to open his eyes, to listen for signs of the new arrival, to move even the tiniest bit. After a long and exhausting battle, he heard the voice once more and managed to decipher the words.

"Hang on, Danno… here… okay, buddy."

Hang on.

The words contained far less significance than the voice that uttered them, though it took Danny a beat to connect the dots.

Steve. Steve was here. Steve had come for him.

Danny held on.

~

It took Steve less than two minutes to rig the noise trap, so he granted himself the luxury of stripping off his sopping vest and gloves. His overshirt and cargos were still soaked, but his t-shirt beneath was only damp. Tucking them in a corner out of sight, he thumbed his com. "Lieutenant Kaloa, do you read me?"

A second of static, then, "Loud and clear, Commander."

"I found Detective Williams, but he's in rough shape. We need to clear this house ASAP and get him out. Take ten minutes to organize your men, then move-in. It's a big house with lots of exits… make sure you cover them all. Don't take any chances, use lethal force."

"Copy that, Commander. Anything else?"

Steve checked his watch. "Yeah, contact Officer Kelly and Officer Kalakaua and tell them to hightail it down here as soon as they finish their bust. And have the EMTs on standby prepare to come in as soon as the scene is cleared. Tell them to be ready to treat hypothermia and trauma to the chest, abdomen, and head. We're holed up in a kitchen towards the back of the house on the first floor."

"You got it. Kaloa out."

Duties taken care of, he sprinted back to Danny's side. The shivering was beginning to taper off, something Steve knew to be an extremely bad sign. His partner's eyes were closed, but his uneven breaths informed Steve that he maintained at least partial awareness. No time to check for injuries, Steve needed to get Danny out of the refrigerator now without jostling him too much. Without knowing the extent of the damage, any wrong move could trigger a cascade of negative effects.

Hands gently rubbing Danny's sternum, he quickly scanned his partner. His left forearm was badly swollen, his hand puffy from the rush of blood with rings of chaffed flesh around each wrist. His upper arm was similarly swollen and the entire limb fell at an awkward angle. Pursing his lips, he knew he would have to be careful with that. Besides the contusions to his face, the rest of his injuries were no doubt hidden by his torn and bloodied shirt.

Danny twitched beneath his hand, and Steve realized that his partner was leaning into his touch. Cautiously, he ceased the motion and laid his palm flat on Danny's chest. "Danno, buddy, can you hear me?"

No answer, though Danny seemed to sigh and curl closer to his hand. Reaching out, Steve gently tapped his friend's cheek with his other hand. "C'mon, D. The one time I want you to talk, you decide to keep your mouth shut. Gimme something, buddy. Try opening your eyes."

His logical need to assess Danny's condition only compounded his desperation to see Danny's azure orbs. Moving him would be easier if he knew how he'd been injured, and the quickest way to learn that was straight from Danny. However, his partner remained uncooperative. Shivering as the cold bit through his wet clothes, he withdrew his hand from Danny's chest and began working on a way to move him.

Danny whimpered, his right hand twitching plaintively and his forehead furrowing in a move that screamed distress. Steve immediately replaced his hand, and Danny calmed soon after. Chuckling, he rubbed his partner's sternum. "Alright, buddy, I'm not going anywhere, but you gotta open your eyes for me."

It took another precious minute and a lot more coaxing - promises of malasadas for the next week may or may not have been utilized - before Danny's eyelids fluttered open. Dull eyes met Steve's joyful gaze. "Hey, Danno, you're safe. I'm gonna get you out of here and somewhere warmer, alright?"

Brow smoothing out, Danny's eyes slipped to half-mast. Urgently, Steve patted his cheek. "No, Danny. I need you awake, okay? Can you tell me what hurts?"

Danny's mouth moved soundlessly for a moment before he forced words through uncooperative lips. "S - St've? 'S c-c-cold-d." A shudder wracked his frame. "Hurt-s-s-s. St-teve?"

Confusion, slurred speech, lethargy, shivering that was slowing down. Hypothermia leapt to the top of Steve's list of concerns. He needed to get Danny out, now. "Alright, buddy," he soothed his distressed friend. "I'm gonna move you, but I need to lie still and let me do all the work."

Without waiting for a response, he stood and moved to kneel behind Danny. One arm wiggled beneath Danny's bent knees while the other slipped under Danny's pinned arm. With a grunt, he pushed out of his squat and heaved his limp partner off the freezing floor and into the safety of his arms. The move earned a heart-retching moan from Danny, his head flopping onto Steve's chest. Though small in stature, Danny's broad and muscular build tested the limits of Steve's strength as he strode smoothly out of the metal box and into the warmer kitchen.

He walked as smoothly as he could to the far corner of the kitchen, the one in the blindspot of the door. Lt. Kaloa would be moving in soon and he wanted Danny as far out of the way as possible when the bullets started flying. When he moved to set Danny down, however, he felt Danny's tremor increase to a more panicked shuddering.

"S-s-st-tay," Danny pleaded, his normally vibrant voice reduced to a whisper of desperate fear.

God help him, Steve couldn't deny his partner anything at that moment. He wanted to gather Danny in his arms and never let go, warding off the demons that seemed to have tormented him for his entire life. Yet Steve's training refused to loosen its hold over him, so he knelt and laid his partner on the floor. Danny's spasming fingers gripped his wet shirt, and Steve gently pried them open and closed his hand around them instead. "Hey, I'll just be gone a minute. I want to see those eyes open when I get back, alright?"

He squeezed his friend's freezing hand and smiled reassuringly before rising to his feet once more. Jogging over to a nearby oven, he turned it on high and opened the metal door to allow the heat to escape into the room. Unfortunately, his frenzied scan of the room revealed nothing he could use to warm… wait.

There.

A familiar red box drew his eye beside the mandatory fire extinguisher. He'd seen them before during his time stationed on a battleship: a fire blanket. Thick, made of wool, and relatively large in size, its design to smother oxygen would work to keep Danny warm.

Unlatching the clasp, he caught the blanket as it fell from the container and shook it out. Danny's eyes were still open - though just barely - when he came back, his shivers reduced to a sporadic tremor. Steve grit his teeth at the sight of his pale partner; he needed to get warm quickly, and this blanket wasn't going to be enough.

Stripping off his wet outershirt, he crouched beside Danny again and gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "So, you do occasionally listen when I talk." Hoping for some kind of feisty response from the smartmouthed detective, he was disappointed when Danny merely blinked, struggling to reopen his eyes.

"Alright, buddy, here's the plan," Steve said, exuding a calm he definitely didn't feel. "I'm gonna move you closer to that oven and then wrap you in this blanket. There's gonna be a lot of shooting here in a minute, so I need you to stay awake and watch my back for me. Think you can handle that?"

"D-Darren." Danny's voice was even more slurred than earlier. "H's h-here."

"Yeah, I know he is, D." Steve once again scooped him up and moved over to beside the oven. This time, he sat down with Danny still in his arms, allowing the detective to lay back against his warm chest while he wrapped the blanket around his cold body. Glancing down at Danny, he wasn't surprised to see that his brother had lost the battle to stay conscious from the stress of the move.

Steve tightened his hold on Danny, attempting to share as much of his warmth as he could without jostling his many injuries. He berated himself for not stabilizing the broken arm and checking for internal bleeding, but the hypothermia was clearly the first concern. Didn't mean he had to like it, though.

As shouts arose from further in the house followed by the crack of gunfire, the decorated Navy SEAL's attention lay far from the fight - for perhaps the first time in his life. Instead, his focus was fixated on the unnaturally quiet man trembling in his lap. He'd found Danny, and in that moment, it was the only thing that mattered.

"You're safe, buddy," he murmured, cautiously rubbing Danny's sternum with his palm. "He won't hurt you again."

Should Darren Kennedy cross Steve McGarrett's path, the SEAL would avenge Danny's wounds a hundred-times over. Eyes flashing ferociously, he clung to that promise even as he clung to Danny.

~

Chin, despite his zen exterior, was a whirlpool of mixed emotions that warred to escape his carefully constructed calm façade. Manson, the scumbag, hadn't been lying about the factory in Pearl City; it was indeed the extensive headquarters of the killer drugs circulating the street. Anyone worth their salt on a police force would call the ensuing bust a rousing success. They'd seized a massive amount of illegal substances and arrested the entire crew manning production without firing a shot. Chin wondered if Danny was right, that Steve McGarrett triggered the massive gunfights that seemed to erupt everywhere Five-0 went.

Therein lay the crux of the matter. A search of the entire facility revealed no sign of their missing detective or Darren Kennedy. Despite claiming that he wanted to cooperate, Manson managed to misdirect their efforts away from where their true priorities laid. He even had the nerve to lie to their faces. Chin couldn't decide whether to kill the man himself or sic Kono and Steve on him. Either way, the idiot was as good as dead when Five-0 got back.

A long look at his cousin showed a similar mix of worry and fury. She approached him, hand clenching around the butt of her assault rifle. "They swept the property again," she reported. "No sign of Danny or Kennedy. They're not here, Chin."

Chin spun on his heel and strode determinedly for his car, calling over Sergeant Lukela. "Duke, take over here. We're going to the second address to join Steve."

The older man nodded solemnly. "Good luck."

The rain was slowing as the car sped off on wet roads, sirens wailing. No words were exchanged, both lost in a world of desperation and morbid scenarios. Chin, ever the optimist, was struggling to find a bright side in the situation. He'd seen the pictures on Kennedy's file at HPD; he'd witnessed the aftermath of the man's horrendous treatment of Danny so many years ago. It was growing increasingly difficult not to fear the worst.

The harsh shrill of his ringtone broke through his brooding, and he answered on the second ring. "Kelly."

"Officer Kelly, this is Lt. Kaloa. Commander McGarrett told me to contact you."

Kono straightened in her seat, hope filling her eyes as Chin replied, "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"McGarrett went in to do some recon and found Detective Williams. He's alive." At these words, twin sighs of relief filled the car. "He's in bad shape though; McGarrett asked for the EMTs to prep for hypothermia and severe trauma."

"What's the timeline for getting them out?" Chin asked, concern leaking into his tone.

"We're moving in to take the compound as soon as I finish this call. They're hiding out in a kitchen near the back of the house, they should be relatively out of the way. McGarrett wanted me to tell you to get here as soon as you're able."

"We're already on our way, Lieutenant. ETA twenty minutes."

He could almost hear Kaloa nod. "Copy that. I'll have my guys patch this number into the coms so you can listen in."

Though grateful for the extended courtesy, Chin would've given his right arm to lead the charge to extract his teammates and take Kennedy. Gripping the wheel with a white-knuckled grasp, he pressed the accelerator firmly into the floor. "Be careful, Lieutenant."

"We'll get them out, Kelly. Kaloa out."

Kono clutched the chicken handle above the door, eyeing her cousin with a mix of awe and worry. "We're not going to make it, Chin."

Chin glared out the windshield, as if his anger could make the miles between them and the rest of their team disappear. "We'll see about that."

~

When the sound of a battering ram crashing through the door rang through the house, Darren Kennedy hardly flinched. Elias briefly wondered if anything on this planet scared his boss; he had yet to see anything resembling real fear in the man's eyes. Many people considered his boss's methods borderline suicidal, but anyone who stuck around long enough discovered them to be both effective and highly lucrative.

Kennedy had evolved since the early days; prison changed him, though not in any way a court of law wished. He grew more calculating, more cunning, and less prone to fits of rage. He emerged with new ideas and new contacts that created an empire that flew beneath all law enforcement radar.

Yet as the rattling retort of gunfire grew closer and closer, Elias found it ironic that his boss's downfall would come at the same hands as his first. Dan Turner was the one vice Darren never escaped. It was a lustful hatred and power-trip that addicted the kingpin more so than any opioid Darren concocted.

Even now, his doom relentlessly approaching, his old friend merely sighed in annoyance and rose from his seat. "Get out, Elias," he ordered, grabbing a 9mm handgun off the end table. "Take as much cash as you can and regroup."

"Boss, where are you going? You're not gonna have enough time to clear out!" Though a waste of time, Elias felt he had to try to talk some sense into the man.

His instincts were right. "I'll get clear," Kennedy growled. "I just gotta take care of something first."

As his boss disappeared and a wave of blue flooded through the opposite door, Elias raised his gun and wished Dan Turner had never resurfaced.

~

It was a fool's hope that lulled Steve into assuming that they'd be safe in the kitchen. Even as the rattle of cans signaled someone intruding their sanctuary, it took Steve as second too long to realize that danger approached with relentless ambition. He barely had time to stiffen - transforming from friend to SEAL - before a mountain of a man burst around the corner, gun in hand and eyes spitting fury.

Darren Kennedy.

Almost instantly, the gaze locked on the blanketed form of his partner lying limp in Steve's arms. Completely ignoring Steve, he sneered lustfully and raised the gun.

No time for caution. Steve roughly grabbed Danny and dived out of the bullet's path, hissing as it carved a path in his calf. He landed - hard - on top of his partner's chest, feeling something give beneath his elbow that shouldn't.

It would have to wait. Darren shoved a table out of the way, metal screeching against tile as he sought a second shot. "I should've done this long ago, Dan!" he spat, crazed rage oozing from his body.

Steve lunged before the man could pull the trigger a second time, knocking Darren off his feet. The startled oof brought a satisfied smile to Steve's lips even as the two men crashed to the ground. Darren was a huge man, but Steve's smaller frame was rock-hard with muscle. A twist of the wrist forced Darren to drop the gun, earning a meaty fist to the side of the head for the move.

Both men scrambled to their feet, sizing up their opponent. Adrenaline flooded Steve's veins; this was the man who caused his partner so much pain through the years. Thanking whoever heard and answered his plea to tear the man to shreds, he sneered at the bruising on Darren's face - no doubt courtesy of his partner.

"Not so tough, are you?" he couldn't help but taunt. "Guess taking on my partner is a little different than beating up a defenseless kid, huh, Darren?"

The kingpin growled, teeth stained with blood. "He's mine!" he screamed. "You will not take him from me!"

Darren charged - quick on his feet for a man his size - and Steve barely had time to dodge the tackle. Using the momentum from the move, he landed a spinning kick to the kingpin's back that sent him crashing into the wall. Careful to keep himself between Darren and his partner, he resisted the urge to follow-up the attack. "You can't have him."

"He's my brother!" Darren snarled, his fury solely focused on Steve now.

Steve bounced on the balls of his feet, ignoring the pull of his calf. "No, he's not… not anymore. He's my brother now, and I won't let you hurt him again."

Advancing with more care but no less determination, Darren threw a flurry of punches. Unable to truly dodge in order to keep his positioning, Steve was forced to block and absorb the powerful blows. The raw power behind them was unmatched, but Steve had years of experience on his side. He took a few punishing hits, but for every blow Darren landed, Steve landed two.

Slowly, he beat Darren back, withholding none of his calculated strength. The SEAL had been unleashed, and Steve relished in the growing fear in Darren's eyes as blow after blow hit their devastating marks.

Stumbling back as Steve's fist cracked against his ribs, Darren raised his hands. "I surrender!" he gasped, blood leaking from his cut lip and mouth. "Stop!"

"Like you stopped?" Steve hissed, grabbing the man's blemished white shirt and throwing him to the ground. "I've seen the scars, Kennedy! I'm sure you yielded when Danny begged you not to rip the skin off his back."

Darren scrambled backwards on his butt, reaching for his gun where it lay discarded on the floor. Steve stomped on his hand before he could reach it, his boot smashing spasming fingers. Howling, Darren clawed at Steve's foot but the SEAL didn't relent.

In a last-ditch effort to escape, Darren's free hand clasped Steve's injured calf and squeezed. Pain shooting up his leg, the SEAL grasped the offending hand and yanked it up to dislocate the kingpin's shoulder.

That was Darren's limit. Eyes rolling back into his head, he crashed to the ground unconscious with Steve standing over him. Of course, that was the moment S.W.A.T came running in, shouts of, "Clear!" ringing in the Five-0 commander's ears. It was finally over. Danny's tormentor lay battered on the floor in front of him, and he'd never hurt the Jersey detective again as long as Steve was alive.

Danny.

He sprinted back to his partner, shoving anyone who dared block him aside. Two officers knelt beside the crumpled figure, concern radiating in their eyes when Steve crashed down beside them. "He's having trouble breathing," one officer reported. "EMS is on their way in."

Sure enough, wheezing gasps burst through Danny's lips, his chest struggling to rise beneath the blanket. His breaths sounded wet, almost like he needed to cough up phlegm, and his face was whiter than a sheet. Even as Steve held Danny's hand in the folds of the blanket, his mind raced to decipher what caused this latest turn for the worse. It wasn't like Danny had been hit...

Oh.

Guilt roiled in his gut, the jolting dive to escape Darren's bullet replaying in his mind in slow motion. The crack of his elbow against Danny's already damaged chest rang in his ears as Danny's wheezing grew more and more labored. Though the move saved Danny's life, Steve couldn't help but wonder if it would kill him down the road.

Pushing an officer out of the way, he sank to his knees behind Danny's head and lifted his partner to recline against his chest. Immediately, Danny's breathing eased somewhat, though it still possessed a wet quality. "I think a broken rib pierced his lung," he quickly explained to the officers, shoving his feelings into a box for the time being. "He took a hit when Kennedy stormed in, which might've triggered it."

At that moment, two paramedics sprinted through the kitchen door, belining for the huddle on the floor. "You Commander McGarret?" one asked gruffly, shooing the two officers out of the way.

Steve nodded, glaring at the two of them. "I'm not leaving. Danny's my partner."

"Wasn't askin' you too." The first medic tore open his bag. "I'm Mikey, this is Reyna. You said hypothermia. How long was he exposed to the cold and how long has he been unresponsive?"

"I don't know," Steve replied, hating how helpless he felt. "He's been missing approximately 18 hours. He was unresponsive when I found him in that refrigerator, but he roused briefly. He recognized me, but wasn't very coherent, then passed out again maybe 15 minutes ago."

"Moderate hypothermia, borderline severe." The medic nodded, pulling out a couple IV bags. "What else?"

"His breathing is compromised somehow, possibly by a broken rib piercing his lung. His left arm is definitely broken as well as damage to his left shoulder and collarbone. Facial contusions indicate a probable concussion." Steve despised how clinical he sounded, but damn it all, he couldn't afford to be emotional right now! "I didn't have a chance to examine him because I was more concerned about warming him up. He stopped shivering shortly after I found him."

Mikey nodded. "Reyna," he turned to his partner. "Go grab the stretcher, some more blankets, and call in a helo for Lifeflight. I'm gonna do what I can now, but he might crash and needs a hospital STAT."

As the other medic ran off, Mikey attached an oxygen mask over Danny's face and turned it to full blast. Whipping out a blood pressure cuff, the medic quickly took a reading and frowned. "What's wrong?" Steve asked, fear creeping into his tone.

Mikey pulled the blanket off Danny's body, using a pair of scissors to cut the detective's shirt open. "His blood pressure is lower than I'd like, lower than hypothermia or a pneumothorax would account for." He immediately set an IV and ran it wide open, handing the bag with the solution to Steve. "This is warmed saline; it'll help combat the hypothermia and blood loss. I need you to lightly squeeze the bag to increase the output. If he goes into shock, we've got real trouble."

Steve automatically obeyed without relinquishing his hold on his partner, eyes drinking in the mottled bruising covering the entirety of Danny's torso. Hands running over the wounded areas, the paramedic's expression grew more and more severe.

As Reyna - the other EMT - ran back in, he immediately began barking out orders. "Bag him, then let's get him out of here. We can stabilize the broken arm in the chopper."

Reyna nodded. "It's eight minutes out." With frightening efficiency, she removed the mask and guided a tube down his unresponsive partner's throat, attached a bag, then began a rhythmic squeezing.

Mikey clipped a pulse ox to Danny's finger, grimacing at the reading. "85% saturation, but it's rising slowly. Let's get him out."

Next thing Steve knew, his arms were being gently pried away from Danny's body. Before he could protest, Reyna's voice broke through his panic. "Commander, help us lift him. Keep him steady."

The next few minutes were a blur for Steve. He caught glimpses of faces as they sprinted through the house with Danny strapped to a backboard between them. Reyna jogged backwards, focused on the even motion of pumping oxygen into Danny's lungs. On Steve's left, Mikey mirrored the commander as they hoisted the backboard with one hand and squeezed warm bags of saline into Danny's veins with the other. It was a striking image of a critically ill patient that made Steve want to vomit. Instead, he forced it down and continued mechanically following the medics' instructions.

Bursting into the cool evening air, Mikey temporarily ceased his efforts in order to cover Danny with blankets. The chopper roared overhead, hovering briefly before descending onto the perfectly manicured lawn. Off to the side, two figures broke through the throng of HPD. "Steve!"

Chin and Kono, his mind supplied. Their presence soothed his frazzled nerves, though he knew they wouldn't be able to join him in the chopper. Ever astute, Chin realized this as well. "Tripler?" he yelled over the blades of the copter.

Steve glanced at Mikey, who nodded. Signalling affirmatively, Steve clambered into the copter behind the medics. His newly freed hand found Danny's icy cold one as the paramedics continued the life-saving efforts around him. Each word Reyna relayed to the hospital was like a knife to the heart.

"Detective Danny Williams, age 34. Found semi-conscious in an industrial-grade refrigerator. Warm saline and blankets raised his temp from 91.1 degrees F to 91.8 degrees F. Decreased breath sounds on the left, oxygen saturation at 93% on intubation. Suspected internal bleeding in the abdomen, broken left forearm and collarbone, probably concussion."

"Have a trauma team and an operating room standing by." Mikey added. "ETA 12 minutes."

Rubbing Danny's freezing arm, Steve prayed they'd make it time.

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So Steve got to beat the crap out of Darren (I feel like Darren was incredibly lucky the police showed up when they did) and avenge his brother! Danny's not out of the woods yet though... *evil laughter*. As always, let me know what you think!