Just a little Happy New Year, Happy New Episode (in the US) pressie for the Danny whumpers out there. Light on plot—heavy on whump!
Standard disclaimer—not a medical expert, just a girl with google and lot of creative license. My apologies to any actual medical professionals for any inaccuracies.
Thank you so very much to my beta, the awesome and wonderful JoaniexJony. You rock, girl.
Hope you enjoy…
Hell Hath No Fury
Detective Danny Williams yawned. It was only two in the afternoon, but he and the rest of 5-0 had been up for the last thirty six hours working a high profile kidnapping case. Sheer adrenaline had kept the exhaustion at bay. With the case now closed it was fading fast, and all Danny wanted was to finish his report, go home, and go to bed.
Kono and Chin were down at HPD booking their kidnapper. Steve and Lori had gone to fill in the Governor. That had left him with the paperwork. Danny sighed and stretched, blearily rubbing at his eyes before peering once more at his computer screen. He sighed tiredly—he was crashing fast, and his eyes were refusing to focus.
He reached to his left and popped the last of his sandwich into his mouth, washing it down with a swig of soda. He was moving his hands back to the keyboard when the first cramp hit his stomach. The pain so severe, it doubled him over. He'd barely caught his breath when he felt the bile rising in his gut. Desperately he twisted in his chair, trying to make it to the garbage can.
He was still in mid-motion, his knees just barely hitting the floor when he began to retch. Frantically he grabbed the trash can. He hunched over it, clinging helplessly to its edges as the acrid sickness exploded out of his mouth in an unending stream. Just when he thought he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen, the puking stopped. His body trembling, heart racing, he gasped for air. Weakly he hung over the garbage can, resting his forehead on his arm.
"Shit," he whimpered, nearly choking on the vile taste in his mouth. "Shit, shit…shit."
Another wave of cramps sent him sprawling to the floor. He clutched at his stomach, and groaned in agony. One of his arms instinctively wrapped around his middle, as if that could protect him from the pain.
Dimly he heard someone enter his office and call out his name. Just as he was about to try and open his eyes and respond, the nausea hit again. Powerless to stop it, he vomited in a long torturous heave. Then his lungs demanded air and he involuntarily sucked in a breath. The rancid bile reversed directions and he began to choke on it.
Strong hands grabbed him, muscled him into a sitting position. Finally the nausea passed and he shuddered, coughing and sputtering.
Danny heard Steve yelling at him, but he couldn't answer. His voice was gone, lost in a paroxysm of coughing. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he wheezed and panted. His heart pounded. The room spun dizzyingly. Steve's arms tightened around him, propping him tight against his chest.
Then the searing pain was back and he cried out in agony. He wanted to curl into the pain but Steve's arms were like iron around his chest. His legs twitched and his hands tightened into fists. "No," he moaned piteously.
"Make…stop…can't," Danny pleaded hoarsely, weakly shaking his head.
He didn't hear Steve's response, because it was happening again. This time, as his stomach heaved, as his lungs fought and strained for air, as his body jerked and trembled, he couldn't hold on. And everything went black.
- H-50 –
Steve whistled as he sauntered down the hall. He was tired, but it was a good tired. His team had saved a life today and taken another scumbag off the streets. Days didn't get much better than that. He'd already sent Lori home, now he was about to make sure Danny was on his way as well.
"Danno!" Steve called towards Danny's open office door. "You about done?"
The silence that greeted him was the first sign something was wrong. Instinctively his hand drifted to the gun on his waist.
"Danno?" He called again, cautiously approaching his partner's office. "You in there, buddy?"
Steve heard a low moan, and his wary sidle turned into a sprint.
"Danny!" Steve cried out as he burst into the office to find his best friend sprawled on the floor, an overturned trashcan next to him. The distinct smell of vomit hung in the air, a pool of it at his partner's head.
Steve knelt down, hauling his partner up and stabilizing the other man's body against his chest.
"What's going on, Danny?" Steve asked, patting Danny lightly on the cheek even as he slipped his other hand into his cargoes and yanked out his phone. "Come on, talk to me buddy. You were fine an hour ago. What happened?"
Dialing 911, Steve pressed two fingers to the pulse point on Danny's neck.
Suddenly Danny cried out, his body going rigid with pain. Steve struggled to keep the other man upright.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"My name is Lt. Commander Steve McGarrett, head of the 5-0 task force. I need an ambulance at 5-0 headquarters. My partner, Detective Danny Williams, is suffering from sudden onset severe abdominal pain and vomiting. He's tachycardic and I think he's aspirated some of the vomit into his lungs. He's beginning to have difficulty breathing."
"Yes Commander. EMT's are on their way. ETA ten minutes. Is your partner conscious?"
"Barely," Steve answered tersely.
"No," Danny moaned, his head tossing agitatedly from side to side against Steve's chest.
"Danny?" Steve asked, glancing down at his partner. "You with me?"
"Make…stop…can't," Danny pleaded, his hands fluttering restlessly at Steve's arms.
"Hang in there, Danny," Steve squeezed Danny's arm reassuringly. "Paramedics are on the way. Just hang in there."
Danny began to throw up again, his body shaking and shuddering until the sick man suddenly went limp. Steve cursed. Gently laying his partner on his side he attempted to clear his airway.
"Jesus Christ," Steve gave a panicked whisper. "Don't do this, Danny. Come on."
"Commander McGarrett!" A voice shouted from down the hall.
"In here!" Steve yelled back. "Hurry up! I don't think he's breathing!"
The paramedics hustled into the office, quickly pulling their kits from the gurney and dropping to the floor next to their patient.
Reluctantly Steve backed out of the way, anxiously watching as the EMT's went to work. In what seemed like seconds, they'd established two IV's, hooked Danny up to cardiac and pulse ox monitors, secured a blood pressure cuff around his left bicep, and had begun pushing air into his lungs with an ambu bag.
As one of the paramedics relayed Danny's condition to HMC, the other began asking Steve questions.
"Is your partner on any medication?" the EMT asked, his eyes glued to the monitor readings. Seemingly satisfied, he set the ambu bag down.
"No," Steve answered.
"Has he had any recent health problems?" the EMT asked, flashing a penlight into Danny's eyes.
"No," Steve said, clenching his hands into fists.
"Has he complained of headaches recently? Chest pain? Stomach pain?" the EMT continued, placing an oxygen mask over Danny's nose and mouth.
"No," Steve shook his head. "Do you have any idea what this is?"
"Could be a lot of things—poisoning, drug overdose, stroke, heart attack, appendicitis," the EMT replied. "They'll have to run tests at the hospital."
"We're a scoop and run," the other EMT clicked off with HMC's Emergency Department. "Doc wants us to bring a sample of the vomit," he continued as he helped his partner load their patient onto the gurney. They positioned Danny on his side in case he began to throw up again.
"I got it," Steve snagged the trash can, pulling out the bag and tying it into a knot.
"Let's go," the paramedic said, guiding the gurney down the hall.
Steve ran after them, quickly making a call to Chin, ordering him to call their team in and head back to the Palace. He needed to know every single thing his partner had done between the time they'd last seen him and when he'd taken ill. Something had happened in that sixty minutes. They needed to find out what, before it cost Danny his life.
Steve stood against the back wall of the trauma room and watched as a team of doctors and nurses worked in concert to save his partner's life. He'd refused to leave. If someone out there had done harm to Danny, Steve was going to make damn sure they didn't get a second chance.
He figured his presence in this room would go down as one of those things it would be far better Danny never found out about. Within moments of being transferred to the gurney in the trauma room, Danny had been quickly and efficiently stripped naked. Only after they'd completed about a half dozen invasive procedures, including cramming an intubation tube down Danny's throat and inserting a Foley catheter, did they throw a hospital gown over their patient's midriff in an attempt at modesty.
Steve had watched, feeling utterly helpless, as they drew vial after vial of blood, extracted urine for testing, and hooked Danny up to a variety of monitors.
While they waited on test results, Danny's doctor, Jenna Clark, began treating symptoms. She administered medications to counter his low blood pressure and his fast heart rate. She ordered the nurses to suction out Danny's trachea. The doctor also conducted a thorough physical examination, spending extra time palpating Danny's abdomen and listening to his heart and lungs.
When the lab called, announcing they'd found high levels of ipecac syrup in Danny's urine as well as in his vomit, the team again leapt into action. They'd positioned Danny on his left side, shoved another tube down his throat, and began to pump out his stomach. They'd repeated the process again and again until finally Danny's stomach contents came back clear.
At this point, the one good thing about any of this was that Danny was unconscious.
Except maybe he wasn't. Steve frowned. He was positive he'd just seen Danny's foot twitch. He inched closer to the bed and inwardly groaned. Danny's leg definitely moved, and then his blue eyes opened to slits. Firmly, he took Danny's ankle in his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
Danny's petite red haired doctor glanced over at Steve and quickly leaned down over the head of the bed. She began talking quietly to her patient, but it didn't stop Danny's body from going rigid with tension or the heart monitor from speeding up.
"Steve, why don't you come up here for a second?" Jenna motioned Steve forward. "See if you can calm him down. I'd rather not sedate him if I don't have to."
"Activated charcoal is ready, Doctor," one of the nurses called out.
"Good," Jenna nodded. "Let's get it on board."
Steve stepped forward, moving up to the top of the gurney. He knelt by Danny's head. He was careful to remain out of the way of the medical team as they flooded Danny's stomach and digestive tract with the solution that would absorb the toxicity of the drug that had poisoned him.
Steve smiled at his partner, placing his hand gently on the back of his friend's neck. "Can't even leave you alone for an hour, can I?"
Danny's eyes tracked to Steve's face. Steve could admit that he might have a look. He knew Danny definitely had a tone, but Danny also had another tell—his eyes. They were completely transparent, and right now they were filled with pain, confusion and fear.
"Hey, it's okay, Danno," Steve soothed. "You're going to be okay."
Danny winced. His fingers curled into loose fists and his heart rate sped back up. His lips twitched miserably around the tubes in his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut as tears slowly rolled down his cheeks.
"Doc?" Steve glanced worriedly at Jenna.
"The abdominal cramping should subside as the ipecac is absorbed by the charcoal," Jenna explained. She glanced over at one of the nurses. "Kalia, go ahead and administer five mgs of morphine, IV push."
Within moments of being given the pain killer, Danny's body relaxed, his eyes sliding closed. His heart rate, though, continued to beat at a staccato rhythm.
"Damn," Jenna muttered to herself. "Kalia, push another five mgs of Digoxin. If that doesn't work, let's prep to cardiovert. And find out what's holding up Nakamura."
"What's going on, Doc?" Steve asked. He pushed himself slowly back up to a standing position. He glanced worriedly down at his again unconscious partner.
Jenna sighed and then motioned Steve to join her at a slight distance from Danny. He could tell she didn't want her patient to possibly overhear what she had to say.
"You understand what ipecac syrup does?" Jenna asked.
"It's used most commonly to induce vomiting after an overdose or a poisoning," Steve nodded.
"Your partner was given approximately twice the recommended levels. In acute high dosages, or chronic long term abuse, ipecac can cause serious, life threatening cardiac problems. I'm concerned that the tachycardia is not resolving, so I've called down the cardiologist on call to take a look." Jenna's eyes strayed to the heart monitor before she looked back again at Steve.
"It can also cause severe nausea and abdominal pain along with drowsiness and lethargy. As soon as we're done treating the overdose we'll take Danny up to the ICU. To make sure his airway is protected, we'll leave the vent in until he fully wakes up. After that it's a case of monitoring his condition. Hopefully within twenty four hours he'll stabilize and we can move him to a regular room. If he remains stable, we should be able to release him in a day or two and I'd expect no further complications." Jenna once again glanced over at the heart monitor, nodding slightly in satisfaction as the rhythm finally began to slow.
"He aspirated some of the vomit before I got to him," Steve said worriedly, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Aspiration pneumonia is a concern," Jenna admitted with a frown. "In fact, the tachycardia could easily be a symptom of that as much as a result of the overdose. I've ordered a chest X-Ray and blood gases. We did a thorough suctioning of his upper airway so I'm hopeful we got most of it out, but I've also called up to Pulmonary for a consult. But I'm afraid we're in a 'wait and see' kind of mode now."
"Thanks Doc," Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We're still not sure who did this to him, so a member of my team will be with him at all times."
"Understandable," Jenna nodded. "I trust I can count on you to stay out of the way of the medical staff."
"Of course," Steve assured her.
"Does he have any family?" Jenna asked.
"An ex-wife and a daughter," Steve slowly moved back towards Danny's gurney.
"You might want to call them," she said quietly, stepping away from the Navy SEAL and pulling her stethoscope out of her pocket. "Things could get a lot worse before they get better."
Steve watched silently as the doctor moved the bell of the stethoscope over Danny's chest. From the look of concern on her face as she looped the device back around her neck, he feared Danny's recovery was not going to take the smooth and easy road.
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