"Yeah, there's a long list, I'm sure.” He muttered, turning to rummage in the junk drawer. "Sit down, will you? I need to do your sugar."

“'No,you don't."

"Yeah, I do." He shrugged, moving to stand in front of Tai. "Give me a finger."

He stuck the middle one up. "Fuck off."

Despite the situation, Harrison had to laugh. "Yeah, I deserved that one. I still need to check your sugars, love. Just a second, yeah?"

Harrison wasn't expecting it, Tai taking a sharp step forward and shoving his husband square in the chest. It jarred his leg, and it was a surprisingly strong shove, sending Harrison tumbling back, unbalanced and unexpecting.

He cracked the back of his head against the cabinets, his back dragging down the edges of the doors.

Stars danced in Harrison's vision, pain immediately lancing down his neck and back, across his ribs, and annoyingly enough around his prosthesis.

It took him a moment for him to manage to catch his breath, and even then it was forced. Despite feeling like he was dying, he forced himself to his knees, and then staggered to his feet. It was all too similar to his accident, his mind reeling and trying not to dissolve into panic.

He knew he couldn't, though, knew Tai needed him. He grabbed the glucagon kit from the top drawer and managed to stumble into the living room. He sent out a quick emergency text to anyone that was around while he was at it; he knew he'd need help one way or another.

Tai was sitting on the sofa in the living room when Harrison found him, grumbling away to himself and covered in sweat. "Tai?"

"What do you want?"

"You must be feeling pretty shit, yeah? You gonna let me help you?" He was more than a little worried to get close, and spied his phone on the coffee table. He edged forward, tapping on the screen. Alert after alert after alert. Goddammit Tai. The CGM moved slower than capillary, and he didn't want to imagine where it actually was. He was all too aware what had happened the last time it got too low.

"Yeah, I feel like fucking shit." 

Harrison nodded, one hand behind him as he sat by Tai's side. He was grateful his husband was still wearing a T-shirt, despite the weather outside, and briefly rested his hand on his bicep.

"Have you tried doing your sugars?"

"No, I don't care about them. I just feel shit, you're not helping and I'm sick of it." He started rambling again, barely making sense. Harrison knew he didn't have long, and he only had one chance. He took a breath to try and stop the nausea, and stabbed him. There was time for niceties or soft touches, quickly injecting the glucagon and deftly locking the needle away.

Tai shouted, a mix of pain and surprise, but Harrison had already moved away. He'd not made it far, missing the bin as he lost his breakfast on the carpet. Great. It only seemed to make it worse, and he groaned, suddenly glad of the other sofa behind his leg. He collapsed gratefully onto it, letting his eyes close for just a second. 

"What the fuck, Hars?!"

"You act like a dick, you get treated like one." He muttered under his breath. "It's for your own good, love. You're having a hypo. You're not you."

"Fuck off."

"Once you're back up, sure.” He pulled his phone out, dialling for an ambulance. As much as he'd done all he could, and normally would have been able to manage it himself, he knew if things didn't improve then he wouldn't be able to help. He could feel wetness down his back and a ginger feel across the back of his head brought back red. Even better. 

He struggled through the operator's questions, finding it harder to think with each one. Tai, at least, looked better, no longer shaking as much as he had been. 

There was a clatter from the front door, the scarper of paws on wood, and the kids announcing they were home. Harrison sighed. This was going to be fun to explain. 

"Living room, we've had a bit of an issue." He called.

“Dad?” Alfie called, frowning. “What’s happened?” 

"Dad's had a hypo. Can you grab the rest of the sugary stuff? And some toast?" 

Shit. “Yeah. Kieran?” He turned to his brother. “Do the toast?” He asked, and his brother did, whilst Alfie padded into the living room. It was a state, Harrison with blood dripping from his nose, Tai collapsed on the other sofa looking awful. There was vomit on the carpet too, though he honestly had no idea who’s it was, they both looked awful.

“What the fuck?”

"Yeah, I know." Harrison shook his head. "Don't even start."

He took in the absolute state of the room, pressing his lips together. “Has dad had something, at least?”

"Glucagon." He said, holding the phone out. "Speak to the ambulance?"

“Uh, yeah.” He said, taking the phone.

Harrison knew better than to try standing, just glad he'd dragged the bin closer. He'd hoped he'd grow out of the vomiting after every head injury, but it just felt like it got worse each time. He groaned, stomach spasming as he buried his head. 

Alfie winced, watching his dad vomit again, before he tried to answer the operator’s questions, vague on the details. 

With another groan, Harrison raised his head. He roughly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, making an unimpressed noise as he wiped blood from his nose. There was a flash of panic that he couldn't quite hide, but his worry for Tai easily overshadowed it. 

Alfie couldn’t help the jolt of worry at the sight of his Dad, the blood dripping from his nose. Neither of them looked well, and the operator at the other end of the phone reassured him that they were on their way as soon as they could be. Kieran had appeared with the toast and other things for Tai, offering to him and trying to ignore the state of the room. Neither parent looked well, and the twins were out of their depth completely. They knew how to manage Tai’s diabetes, of course, but with Harrison looking so ill too, they didn’t have anyone to help them. 

"What's his sugars doing, Kit?"

Kieran had grabbed his Dad’s phone, open to the CGM’s app. “Better, coming up now.” He said. Tai looked better, too, no longer as agitated, and was eating the toast without protest. 

He shot them a smile. "Thanks, boys. Sorry you had to come into this."

“Are you okay?” He asked. “You look like shit.”

"I just took a tumble, I'm fine."

“You’re bleeding and you’ve been sick.”

"Head injuries bleed a lot. It's fine."

“Alfie is on the phone to the ambulance.”

Harrison hummed. "Yeah, for dad."

“Like you don’t need it too.”

"Course not. I need Tai sorted, then I can go to bed."

Given the seriousness of the situation, the ambulance arrived quickly, and Alfie rushed to the door to let him in, Keiran still trying to get Tai to eat. 

“They’re in here. It’s kind of bad…”

Harrison glanced up, offering a sheepish smile. "I'm not the one I called about, I'm fine enough. Tai had a hypo."

“You don’t look too great yourself.” One said, whilst the other radioed for another set of hands. This was definitely more complicated than a simple hypo. 

"I'm just concussed a bit. I'm always sick, I've got a bit of a lac to the back of my head, but I don't think it's that bad."

“What happened?”

Harrison glanced at the twins before returning his gaze to the floor. "I fell."

“Can you talk me through how you fell?”

"Nope. I'm not your patient. Tai is."

“You both are at this point, I’m afraid.”

"Nah, I'm good."

“With a concussion you don’t get to make that choice.”

Harrison narrowed his eyes at him. "Ah, fuck."

“You know I’m right. How did you fall?”

"Backwards, against the kitchen cabinets."

“Ah. Did you lose consciousness? Black out?”

"Remember the whole thing, got really dizzy and couldn't see properly. Winded, too, with how I hit the bench. Took a moment, followed Tai through here, managed to get his glucagon in and then I started throwing up. I always have done." He gave as much information as he could get away with while withholding the important bits. "I'm just a bit concussed, head injuries just piss everywhere, that's all. I'm really not that bad, I just need a lie down."

“You’ll get a lie down.” He reassured him. “That’s a significant fall, you and I both know that.”

"A lie down in my own bed."

“Not going to happen I’m afraid."

"I'm not being rude to you, but that's bullshit." He sighed. "On second thoughts, you carry ondansetron?"

“Not being rude, eh? Yes, we carry ondansetron.”

"You can stab me for being rude then. I won’t say no to that." He adjusted his grip on the bin, trying and failing to breathe through it. 

“Now you want something from us.” They knew Harrison, often seeing him at work, and knew where they could tease. That was flirting the limit, but he hoped it would be okay. 

Harrison huffed. "Ah, but look. I pretty much fixed your patient for you."

“I suppose you helped.”

"Didn't want you to feel like I was doing all the hard work though." He broke off to vomit, giving a quiet apology before continuing. "So I decided to make another patient for you."

“Let me get that ondansetron sorted for you, then.” He said, reassuring him. But things were serious, especially with the vomiting. 

"Yeah, thanks." He murmured. "What's Tai's sugars at?"

“Uh, 3.5 at the moment.”

"Mm, okay. He's coming up alright then."

“Going in the right direction.”

"I got a 1.3 on his phone."

“So likely even lower? Okay, yeah. Explains things.”

"Couldn't get a fingerprick."

“We’ve managed one, which is good.”

"Yeah, he's more compliant now."

“Things are moving in the right direction.”

Harrison retched. "Well, it makes one of us."

The other para had sorted the ondansetron quickly enough, and returned to Harrison. “Here, got this antisickness for you.”

"Who's the lucky one that gets to stab me?"

“That would be me.”

"I'm not gonna judge you, just stab me once yeah?"

“That’s the plan.” He said, getting his kit sorted. “Can get you some pain relief too, if you need it?”

"I might take you up on that."

“Alright, I can get that sorted in a mo.” He said, finding a good vein and prepping it carefully. “Right, sharp scratch.”

Harrison hummed, letting him get on with it. He focused on trying not to be sick while he worked, all too aware of being on the other side of things. 

He got it in easily, and it flushed nicely. “There. Just gonna get this antisickness in for you now, well done.” 

"Thanks."

“Hopefully this second crew should be here shortly and we can get you both off to hospital. Have you got someone to come and be with the kids?”

"Kit and Bug are seventeen."

“I’m sure it would be nice for them to have someone with them?”

"I don't know if anyone replied." He was starting to get more than a little tired of the situation, the nausea still there and the pain creeping in.

“Do you want us to call someone?”

"Maybe, yeah."

“I, uh, I…” 

“Shut up, I don’t want to hear it. Cover my hands with yours and hold the pressure until I say otherwise. Unless you want to start an IV? No? Didn’t think so.” He snapped, as the other man took over. He wiped his bloody hands off on his shirt, and shifted over slightly to Harrison’s arm, eyes looking critically for a vein as he rifled through the kit. 

The pain somehow got worse. Harrison wasn't sure how, but it did. He cried out through gritted teeth, trying to arch away. It took a moment to coordinate, but he started swinging, trying to get away. 

Fao ducked out of the way, catching Harrison’s fist and gently forcing his arm back down. “Harrison? It’s okay, you’re okay. It’s Fao, I’ve got you. Try and relax, you’re safe now. I’m helping, alright? Let me help.”

"He's going to hit me!"

“He’s half unconscious, try harder to dodge him.” Fao shot back. “I’m working as fast as I can.” He gritted his teeth as he tried desperately to get a vein, struggling with poor light and Harrison’s struggling. He got one eventually, shouting triumphantly. It wasn’t enough, and he wanted more access, but he could at least get some pain relief in, hopefully settle him. 

Harrison twisted as Fao shouted, whining as he tried to get away. His chest heaved as he struggled to get his breath, the feeling he was drowning all too much. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Fao soothed. “You’re okay, I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay, Hars. Just focus on doing that breathing, let me to do the rest. Giving you something for the pain, now, gonna make it easier.” He told him, quickly checking the drug before he gave it. 

His shouts died down into cries, quiet whimpering softly to himself. The pain had started to ease slightly, making it easier to focus. It made breathing more difficult, though, and he couldn't stop the panic coursing through him. 

“You’re okay, that’s it. Well done, keep breathing for me.”

He turned his head, looking towards Fao's voice. "Help."

“I’m helping, I promise.”

"It hurts." He managed, finally managing to focus on him. 

“I know, I know. I’ve given you some painkillers, they’ll work soon.” 

"'m dying."

“No you’re not. Just focus on your breathing for me, let me sort the rest.”

"I am." 

“That’s it, good.” Fao reassured. There was so much blood, and he was really struggling to properly control it. The van went over a bump and jolted, and Fao tried to brace himself on his knees. “Fucking hell.”

Harrison whined, trying to pull away from the pain. It was everywhere, though, and there was nothing he could do.

“Well done, that’s it.” He soothed. “I’ve got you.” He stretched for his kit, rifling through to try and find what he needed. He needed a trained someone, anyone who he could trust. Not Harrison’s little team. 

Frustrated and tired, he started fighting against the other man. He got a solid elbow in their ribs, the relief of pressure against his side just bliss. 

“I know, I know.” Fao murmured, moving to try and pack the wound. 

He twisted again, curling away from Fao. His scream died on his tongue, his hands pushing against Fao's. 

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” Fao muttered. He was happy enough with the packing, and moved to try and get a listen to Harrison’s chest. It was loud on the van, and he struggled to keep his balance as he listened, swearing to himself. 

Harrison could feel himself slipping, the ceiling of the van swimming in and out of focus. Even the pain couldn't keep him conscious, his head lolling.

Fao’s stomach twisted as Hars lost consciousness, but he was relieved in a way. At least he wasn’t in pain. He didn’t like what he was hearing at all from his chest, and dug in his kit to find what he needed for a chest drain. It certainly wouldn’t be perfect, but it would do. He didn’t even bother talking to the other men as he grabbed a scalpel, found his landmark, and made the cut. 

He definitely felt that, and he cried out again, but he wasn't with it any more. The men beside Fao retched, especially as blood quickly poured from the drain.

Fao rolled his eyes as the men retched. What he wouldn’t give for Steve or Finn or someone. Trying to manage this completely on his own wasn’t working. He took a set of obs as best he could, blood soaking his trousers and making them cling to him. The numbers he got back were more than a bit concerning, despite his interventions, and they weren’t getting any better. Fuck. 

Harrison coughed and choked, spots of blood on his lips. His resps were through the roof, his heart rate doing its best to compensate for his blood pressure circling, for his blood volume pooling on the floor. He managed to catch Fao's eye, and he met his gaze with panic and fear in his eyes. 

Fao locked eyes with Harrison. “I’ve got you, Tomcat. You’re gonna be okay.” He told him firmly. Things were just consistently getting worse, though, and Fao felt considerably out of control. He gave as much TXA as he felt he could, but it wasn’t close to enough to help the bleeding. 

“How far out are we?” He snapped, asking whoever cared to listen. 

"We've still got at least fifteen minutes."

“Fuck’s sake.” 

Hars could feel himself slipping again, missing parts of the conversation. He grabbed for Fao's top, his hand leaving more bloodied streaks across it. 

"I want Steve."

“We’re gonna be with him really soon, Hars.” Fao murmured. “He’s gonna be waiting for us at home.”

He shook his head. "I'm not gonna make it."

“As if I’m giving up on you. I’m gonna make sure you’re okay, alright? Hold on for me.”

He knew Fao was trying his best, and he’d continue to do nothing but. He trusted Fao with his life, and they unfortunately kept ending up in situations where it was tested. It didn’t take a genius to know he wasn’t okay, and the small bit or working brain he had left had worked out it probably wasn't going to end well. 

He forced his eyes open again, though he didn't remember closing them. "It's okay."

Fao’s repeat set of obs were no better. In fact, they were worse. He swallowed thickly, digging around in his pocket for his phone. He needed to talk to Steve, needed someone medical he could talk to, to reassure him he wasn’t completely out of his mind. 

He chucked it on the floor of the van on speaker as it rang, and he prayed he’d answer. 

"Fao, talk to me. I heard the call for medical."

“It’s Hars, and it’s bad. We’re still miles out, in the back of a shitty van, and all I have is my kit.”

Hars stirred again. "Steve?"

"Hey, Hars. You causing problems for Fao, eh?" He tried to sound light for him, but even he could hear the waver in his tone. He cleared his throat. "What's happened with him? Head to toe, obs, and what kit do you have?"

“GSW, it’s gone just under his vest, entry is the abdo but exit is further up into the chest. Haemothorax on the right. I’ve got a drain in but it’s putting out so much fucking blood. Pulse 138, BP 76/50, SpO2 94 on high flow, Resps sitting at 36, he's still not getting chest rise on the right. He's with it enough, but he's starting to pass out and stay out. I've given the TXA but it's just not stopping. The floor is covered, I'm covered. It’s my kit, it’s decent. Airway kit, ket, paralytics, TXA. I’m just out of my fucking depth here, nobody else knows a fucking thing and I feel like I’m going insane.”

Steve took a moment. Well, fuck. "Right. Take a breath. Reassess, keep going ABCs. You need to get on top of that bleeding. He's not going to be able to compensate forever. Have you got anything to give? Will they follow instructions?"

“I know he won’t compensate forever.” Fao snapped. “I’ve got saline but no blood. They’re fucking useless, hadn’t touched him at all when I showed up. Not even put pressure on.”

"Fucking hell. Okay. Fluid bolus, see if that helps his pressure at all. He's not going to hold his airway by himself if he goes, so just be careful."

Fao quickly set up the fluids, wiping his hands on his trousers as he struggled with the connectors. Fluids running, he forced himself to breathe. “Alright. Fluids in. I want to sort his airway before it becomes a problem.”

"If you're thinking RSI, you need to trust they can help." 

"Steve." Harrison interrupted again, apparently unaware of the conversation. 

“I don’t think I’m going to have a choice, Steve. I’m watching him deteriorate in front of me, and we’re still miles out.”

"You can see him, not me. Do what you think is best."

Unimpressed by Steve's lack of response, he shoved at Fao with a frustrated grunt. "Steve."

Fao huffed. “Thank you, Hars.” He muttered under his breath. “He’s very insistent that he wants you, Steve.”

"Hars, we're just trying to help you."

"No." He shook his head, though Steve couldn't see, and Fao wasn't sure he didn't realise that. 

“We are, I’m doing my best right now Hars. Focus on breathing like I said.” 

He sniffed, setting himself off coughing again. The pain exploded again, despite the morphine, and, once more, slipped under. 

God, it was just getting worse. He hated watching Harrison slip into unconsciousness again, powerless to stop it. 

"Fao, talk to me." Steve's tone was tense, and Fao could hear him pacing. 

“Unconscious again, I’m repeating obs.” Fao replied, his own tone similarly tense. 

"Come on, Hars. Don't do this." Steve murmured, wishing he was there with them. 

The blood pressure cycled, protesting at the numbers. It continued tightening, way into the two hundreds, and Harrison gave a whine. He tried to pull away from it, panicked. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Just give it a minute, I know it’s uncomfy.” Fao murmured, but it wasn’t a good sign. He knew full well it wasn’t high enough to need that kind of pressure - it was just struggling for a read full stop. 

Harrison, of course, didn't listen. He twisted away, an unintelligible shout in both pain and frustration. 

"Hars, listen to Fao. He's looking after you."

“It’s alright, it’s okay.” Fao tried vainly to soothe. But sure enough the blood pressure gave up, failing to get a read, and Fao’s stomach dropped. “Fluids haven’t done shit. It won’t even read, just cycles until it gives up.”

"You're going to have to give more, you can't RSI that low. Has he got a radial?"

It took Fao a moment. “No. Nothing.” 

"Give him fluids."

“I might as well just pour them on the fucking floor.” Fao muttered, but swapped the bag over to give more. 

"Just try."

“Yeah, they’re running.”

Harrison screwed his face up, managing to squint at Fao. He was sure he'd heard Steve too, but the huddle of men behind Fao were too small to be him. 

“That’s it Hars, you’re alright.” Fao said softly, half as reassurance for himself. 

"Where's Steve?" He slurred, more of a mumble than anything. 

“On the phone with me.” Fao replied. 

"Right here, Hars."

“Both of us are looking after you.”

"Sorry."

“Don’t apologise.” Fao said firmly. 

Harrison lapsed back into silence, somewhere between conscious and not. As the blood pressure started again, he whined once more, but didn't pull away. 

Harrison’s blood was drying on his hands, as Fao waited for the machine to read, praying it would give him something. Just a number would be better than the endless cycling. 

Harrison's breath caught in his throat again, and his frown deepened. He knew Fao was looking after him, and Steve was there too, somewhere. He could see Fao leaning over him, doing things in slow motion. Which left Steve..

"Dad?"

Fao’s stomach twisted, and the noise Steve made over the crackled phone line was less than dignified. 

“I’m right here, Hars. I’m right here, I’ve got you.” He replied, his voice wavering. “You’re going to be okay.”

He seemed to have a sudden rush of energy, though his observations were still terrible, and his prognosis even worse. 

"Thank you." He muttered softly.

Fao sucked in another deep breath, forcing himself to re-focus. He had to keep doing this. “Blood pressure is a little less shit. I’ve at least got a number.”

"That's good." Steve managed. 

Harrison reached for Fao’s hand, for a moment of comfort in his desperation. 

Fao squeezed his fingers. “I’ve got you.” He murmured. He laid out his airway kit with the other hand, leaving smears of blood all over it, though he didn’t notice. He needed the blood pressure up a bit more before he could fully RSI, but it never hurt to prepare. 

The squeeze managed to help, a tiny hint of a smile gracing Harrison's blood-splattered lips. He tried his best, his fingers twitching in Fao's before his eyes rolled. It didn’t take long for things to go south, as Hars took a breath and then stopped. 

“Fuck.” Fao muttered, snatching up his kit. He couldn’t put this off any longer now, he needed control of his airway. Unsure just how conscious he was, having watched him flick in and out, Fao chatted away to him as he sorted it, half to keep himself from losing it. “Alright Hars. That’s you finding your limit, hmm? It’s okay, I’ll take over from here. Got some meds to get you off to sleep now, so you can have a nap whilst I do the hard work.” He quickly pushed the ket, watching him carefully. There were men clustered around Harrison’s head, and Fao snapped at them to move, which they did. Happy with his sedation, he pushed his roc, bagged until he was happy with it, and snatched up his tube and laryngoscope. He was rusty with his intubations, of course, so what better time to practice than in a dark, moving van covered in blood? But Harrison, for all he made Fao’s life difficult, apparently wasn’t a difficult airway, and Fao got it first time. He shouted triumphantly, checked his placement, and then secured it. 

“Tube’s in, airway’s secure.”

Steve let out a shaky breath. "Good. Well done."

Fao couldn’t breathe for Harrison forever, not if he was going to continue to manage the bleeding. “Which one of you lot is the most competent here? Who’s not a complete idiot?” He asked. 

They were all quiet, slightly afraid of Harrison and definitely afraid of Fao. After a moment, one of them stepped forward.

"I can help. What do you need?"

Fao looked up. “Are you capable of breathing?” 

"For him?"

Fao huffed. “Essentially, yes. Every time you take a breath, I want you to squeeze this to breathe for him, too. Can you do that?” He asked, demonstrating. “I can’t sit here and do it, I’ve got other stuff to do.”

Panic flashed across his face. "Okay. Yeah." He swallowed, taking a moment. It was Harrison. He'd got him out of shit so many times before, it was only fair to return the favour. "I can do that."

“Just whenever you breathe, breathe for him too. Just got to think about breathing. Okay?”

"Okay." He moved to take Fao's place. "I can do that."

“Shout if you get stuck.” Fao murmured, and moved away, to carefully take yet another set of obs, praying they were better than before. 

Steve hated being so far away, so unable to do anything. "Fao, talk to me."

“I’m taking obs.” Fao shot back. “I’ll tell you stuff when I know it.”

"You just went silent. I need to know what's happening."

“I’m trying to concentrate!”

"Fine, hurry up."

“Going as fast as I can.” He muttered. For once, Harrison’s obs had trended slightly upwards, and Fao was glad of it. “A bit better. SpO2 has come up, as has his BP.”

"Good. The tube will be helping with his sats."

“Yeah, that’s why I did it.” Fao said flatly. 

"I just mean that he's not going to be resping at fifty or some shite."

“Yeah.”

"How's the bleeding doing?"

“Still fucking bleeding.”

"I've put a call out for more blood, you just need to get back."

“I’ll need the whole trauma setup.” Fao muttered, doing his best to manage the bleeding. “Can you go up and wake Ely? I’m going to need her.”

"Everyone's up. They're just sorting the basement out."

“Good.” Fao was relieved he had a team waiting for him. 

"If the second lot of fluids helped, you can give him another 500 bolus."

“It’s helped, but I don’t know for how much longer. I’ve got no pressors, and limited fluids.”

"You just need to get him back. If he's still got pressure, give it."

“Giving it now.” He muttered, trying to push his hair out of his face. 

"Give me a run down of his obs once you've done that."

He finally got it connected and running, discarding the spent bag. His ‘assistant’ was doing well ventilating, surprisingly, and so he quickly started on obs. He hated having to do this in such an old fashioned manner, he missed his hospital conveniences and continuous monitoring. 

“It’s alright, Harrison. You’re home now, you’re safe.” Steve said, rubbing his back gently. “I’m gonna take care of you.” He soothed him as he retched, a bowl stuck under his chin. 

His body trembled with exhaustion and shivered with the cold. Each breath was laced with a whine, no longer silent and stoic. Steve wouldn't hurt him. 

He turned away for a moment, to discard the bowl and grab what he needed. “I’m going to get a cannula in, alright? Get you some painkillers, some fluids to make you feel better.” He said, unsure if Harrison could actually hear him. He took his good arm, quickly found a vein, and didn’t waste any time with the cannula. “Sharp scratch.” He warned, but got it in easily.

Harrison had tried to pull his arm away, but Steve's grip was too strong. He supposed it might mean he'd get some relief from the pain, but the sudden realisation he might just knock him out had him panicked. 

"No. I don't want it."

“It’s alright. Just some painkillers, nothing nasty.”

"I'm sorry."

“It’s okay. Just some painkillers, yeah? It’ll help.”

"Don't hurt me."

“I’m not going to. I’m going to help, yeah?”

"Promise?" He finally looked up at Steve, searching the older man's face. 

“Promise.” Steve said firmly. “I’m going to need to put that shoulder back in, and that might hurt a bit, but let’s sort your pain first okay?”

Relief flooded his features. "'Kay."

“I won’t lie and say there’ll be no pain, but I’m going to be helping.”

Harrison nodded, letting Steve fuss around him. The promise of pain relief was good enough for him to leave Steve in control. Besides, he knew he'd be useless if he tried, aside from getting in the way.

Steve carefully gave the pain relief. “Give that a moment to kick in. Just keep breathing through the pain for me, I know it’s hard.”

He hummed, quickly feeling the pain relief, the room spinning. "Did Fao get away?"

“Made it to the safehouse, yeah.”

"Mm, good. Henri had it all planned. Had to do something to distract him."

“This is a bit overkill though, Hars.”

"He went too far."

“What a cunt.” Steve muttered. “How’s the pain now?”

"Better."

“You’re soaked to the skin. Can I get these clothes off?”

Fear flashed across his face. "He found the water."

“I can tell. There’ll be no more of that, not here. I’ll get some warm, dry clothes.”

"Okay." He sighed. "You can just cut it. I'm not moving my arm."

“They’re wrecked anyway.” Steve said, grabbing his shears.

"Yeah. I don't want them."

Steve worked quickly, and soon the wet clothes were discarded, replaced with thick blankets for now. He’d get proper clothes once everything was sorted. 

He knew he needed to sedate Harrison to reduce his shoulder and sort his fingers. The pain relief had worked, but he was going to need more than that. 

“Hars? I need to sort your shoulder now.”

"How?"

“It just needs putting back in place.” He said gently. “I’ll give some more for the pain, and some antisickness. Won’t take long.”

"Okay."

Happy that was good enough consent, Steve gave the antisickness and the dose of sedation he wanted. It would be best if Harrison didn’t fight this, even better if he didn’t remember.

"Steve?" He asked thickly. 

“Yeah?”

"Dizzy."

“That’s okay, that’s just the meds. Don’t worry about it.”

Steve wouldn't lie. "Alright."

“Nice deep breaths for me. Well done, you’re doing so well. How are you feeling?”

"Still hurts."

“I’ll get you some more meds.” Steve said gently, turning away to give more. “There. We’ll let that work.”

He frowned. "Fucking hell."

“Sorry, sorry. What is it? Dizzy?”

Harrison nodded, doing his best to breathe through it. "Too much."

“I’m sorry.” Steve said gently. “Try and relax into it, yeah? You’re safe now.”

"Trying."

“I know. You’re doing great.”

He gave a huff in response, too out of it to do much else.

Happy now he was properly relaxed and sedated, Steve could get a quick x-ray of Harrison’s shoulder and fingers. It was obviously dislocated, and the fingers broken, but it was good to have some images as a starting point. Still happy with his sedation, he could then go about putting the shoulder back, carefully grasping his arm. It was hard - it had obviously been out of place for a while - but he was well practiced by now and took his time. 

Harrison whined as Steve started to manipulate his shoulder, the drugs clouding his rational thought. "Get off."

“Sorry, it needs to be done, Hars.” Steve told him. “Won’t be long.”

"It hurts."

“I know, I know. Just give me a minute, yeah?”

"Please." He murmured. "I've been good. I've had enough."

“I’m helping, I promise. Just give me a minute.” Steve groaned, and managed to shift the joint back into socket.

Harrison moaned in pain, trailing off into a relieved sigh. It still ached, and the muscles spasmed around the joint. He struggled to get comfortable for a moment, shifting in the bed. The relief from the relocation was simply bliss, and he soon found himself drifting.

“You keep that still for me.” Steve said, glad Harrison had stopped fighting. He needed to sort the leg wound out now, and he worried that would set him off again, but he didn’t have a choice. Delicately, he cut through the makeshift bandage, trying to get a better look at the wound itself now he had better light.

He whined as the bandage was pulled off his leg, the dried blood sticking to the wound. He stretched his good arm out to push Steve off, confused why he'd be hurting him again.

“Sorry, I know it hurts. I need to stitch it.”

"No."

“I know it’s not nice, I won’t be long. It’s nasty though, Harrison, it needs looking at.”

"Steve." He whined, aware he was acting childish, but too out of it to care.

“I know. I’m really sorry, I’ll be done soon.” Steve murmured. “Try and relax, yeah? I bet you’re exhausted.”

"It's nasty because he shot me."

“Because he’s a cunt, which is why I need to sort it.”

"Gently." 

“Of course gently.”

"Good."

“I’m going to numb it in a minute, alright? Then it won’t be sore.”

"Good." Harrison nodded to himself. 

Steve reached once more for his supplies. “It’ll sting, but then it’ll be better.”

"Promise?"

“Promise.” Steve murmured.

"Please be gentle." 

“As gentle as I can be.” He reassured, starting with the local. “It’ll sting, sorry.”

Harrison groaned. "Ouch."

“I know.”

"I need a drink."

“Maybe later, yeah?” Steve said, taking his time to numb the whole area. “I’ll get you something to help.”

"After this."

“After this.” Steve agreed, finally finished. He left it a little time to go numb, hoping it would give Harrison time to mellow again under the sedation. 

He drifted for a little while, until Steve started prodding again. "Ow. Steve?"

“Yeah?” 

"Can we have a whiskey?"

“Maybe later, yeah?”

"Together."

“Yeah, maybe later.”

"Steve?"

Steve stifled a sigh. “Yes, Hars?”

"Thank you."

Harrison was tired. The assaults hadn't stopped in what felt like hours, but he assumed it was more. His head felt like it was exploding, each rib grated with every shallow breath. He'd thrown up more than once, too, much to the amusement of the others around him. By the end of their fun, he barely had the energy to raise his head. His smartarse comments were toned down and scaled back, too worried that he'd let something slip that he shouldn't. 

When they came back nearly a full 12 hours later, they were laughing. Even Henri was with them, though he hung back and let them do the work. He was just here to watch, he had no intention of letting his suit get dirty. 

Harrison kept his head low, watching the gang enter. He did his best to seem unbothered by it all, but there was more than a little excitement in their attitude - and that worried him. 

They laughed as they shoved the chair to the floor, his head smacking off the floor of the cell. His quiet groan only made their laughter louder, taunts flying. 

From his position on the floor, his view of what was coming next was almost nonexistent. As the cloth was placed over his face, though, he knew exactly what was coming next. 

He could take pretty much anything. He'd endured days of prolonged torture, sleep deprivation, and starvation. But this? He couldn’t do it, and he knew he'd made his bed when he started fighting against his restraints.

Henri chuckled, stepping closer. “I think he’s scared, boys. Have we hit a nerve?” He purred. 

His chest heaved. "You fucking wish."

“Mm, I think I’m right.”

"I don't think you've ever been right."

“I was right about that blonde whore you all protect.” He said, circling him. He knew he couldn’t see, but he’d hear the clack of his shoes over the concrete. “Go on, boys. Let’s see who’s right.” He said, snapping his fingers. One of the men approached, and poured the water over his face. 

Harrison started coughing almost immediately, his fear getting the better of him. He writhed under their grasp, trying to get away. 

They enjoyed the coughing and the struggle, Harrison making it blatantly obvious this wasn’t something he could tolerate like the punches. Henri let them go on for a little longer before he raised his hand, and they stopped. 

“Are you going to talk to us now?”

He couldn't breathe, there was no chance of him being able to talk. He managed to clear his throat enough to gasp for air, tears already falling.

“Oh, look at the state of him already.” One of the men said. “Fucking crying.”

“Looks like I was right, then.” Henri said. “Are you going to talk? Or are you going to sit there crying like a baby?”

"Fuck you." He spat, trying to act braver than he felt. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He teased. “Go on boys, again. We’ll break him.”

"Best fuck you'd get." He retorted, twisting out the way.

“Hold him down.” Henri ordered, and two men moved forwards to pin him before a third poured the water over him again. 

His sarky response was cut short, suddenly choking again. He did his best to stay calm, to remember that this was just his job and he'd be able to get out of it. He'd been through enough before that it would just be added to the list. Or, at least, that's what he tried to convince himself. They didn't give up, and he couldn’t hold his breath forever. He didn’t have a choice but to try, immediately being met with water and more laughter as he choked.

“You can’t hold your breath forever, Carlos.” Henri goaded. 

It was as though all the blood had been drained from him. His fight, too, was gone, one simple word breaking through the barriers he'd made. 

“Oh, was it the personal touch? That name was hard to find, I’ll admit. You’re clever, but I’m persistent, and I’ll get what I want in the end.” Henri purred. “You’ll talk to us now.” He raised a hand and the water stopped again. 

Harrison didn't bother to retaliate, though his chest heaved as he tried to breathe. He wouldn't talk. He couldn't.

“No more sarcasm now, hmm? I almost miss it.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched tight. He owed it to the Daniels to not say anything, as much as he claimed to not have alliances. Henri couldn’t find out, especially not from him.

“Come on now, don’t be shy.” Henri said, moving to take the cloth from Harrison’s face. “Talk to me.”

"Fuck you." He managed, his voice trembling. 

Laughing, Henri rung the cloth out, letting the water drip onto Harrison’s face.

Harrison couldn't help it, flinching away from the droplets. He kept his face turned away from Henri, pralying he'd get bored of him soon.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Henri said, crouching beside him and digging his fingers into his chin to turn his head. 

"Get off." He grunted, jerking his head back. 

That earned him a slap. “Now, now, there’s no need to be rude.”

"You should take your own advice."

“And where’s the fun in that?”

"I'd be having more fun."

“You’re not enjoying this? A shame.”

"Your hospitality has been a bit crap."

“That’s rude.”

"Pretty much just like you then." He knew he was playing with fire, but he couldn't let them think he was rattled. 

“We’ll let you go if you just tell us what you know.”

"I don't know anything."

“Don’t lie to me.”

"I'm not."

Henri dropped the cloth, and snapped his fingers. “That’s alright, we’ll jog your memory.”

"Please." Harrison's voice broke. 

Henri grinned. “Oh, we’ll stop eventually.”

"You might as well kill me." His attempts to get free were pointless. "I'm not going to tell you shit."

“I’ve invested far too much time in you to kill you.” He said, moving away as the water was poured over Harrison yet again. 

Harrison fought against the men holding him, against the restraints. He bucked and writhed, but to no use. Henri was wrong, he was going to kill him. 

They poured the water for a long time, with no opportunity for Harrison to catch his breath. Henri could tell that somehow they’d hit a trigger, and he was going to make the very most of it. They’d push Harrison right to the very edge. 

When they finally removed the cloth from his face, he didn’t fight. He struggled to breathe, his vision only growing darker. He didn't have the energy to keep this up, and he knew that Henri was all too aware of it. 

One of the men looked over at Henri, who was enjoying the way Harrison’s chest heaved and he struggled to cling onto consciousness. “Boss, he doesn’t look too good…”

He tutted. “Again.”

“Boss?”