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The 118 station is absolutely bustling with energy, familiar yet unexpected for their return. Floodlights are cutting through the dim bay, triage tarps spread across concrete. The air is full of noise, motion, and various paramedics shouting vitals, people hauling blankets and IV kits back and forth. A thick smell of blood and metal.
Ravi watches as it all unfolds in front of him, with a detached sort of feeling.
Probably from watching a field amputation, right? He can’t quite get the smell and sounds out of his head, the look on Chimney’s face at the suggestion. It was a lot. The day has been a lot.
May and Harry are talking, but the words float around and he can’t quite grasp what’s being said. He shakes his head for a moment, trying to clear it. He’s just tired.
He doesn’t say a word when Buck looks at him with a cocked eyebrow.
Instead, watching as Chimney steps away from May and Harry, turning back towards the team, small puddles of water forming below. “Alright, everyone, go get out the wet gear, and then join someone to help.”
Eddie’s already peeling his coat off, water pooling around him. Buck nods, shivering slightly. “Feels like I've been through a car wash.”
Chimney mutters to himself as he moves away, “with space junk and not soap.”
Ravi stands back, gives a small laugh that is more so reflex than anything else. His body is humming with the leftover adrenaline, the kind that makes everything feel far away. The lack of lighting, the woman’s utter silence, the cold that had long since seeped under his skin, all blurs together.
It takes him a moment to kick into gear and follow the team into the locker room, the stench of damp gear quickly filling it. The noises hit him all at once — the clang of lockers, water dripping, voices bouncing off tile. Too much. Too loud. He focuses on his hands instead, counting the motions as he unbuttons his jacket. One, two, three — steady rhythm, grounding.
He’s learned that it helps when everything feels too bright and far away. Still, the edges of the world blur.
Ravi shoves his turnout jacket off and peels off the soaked shirt underneath, his hands ever so slightly shaking. He doesn’t notice the tremor at first, or how his skin is cold and clammy to the touch.
He just tells himself it's fine. The adrenaline dump always feels odd, the weird floaty feeling, the heaviness. It explains it all.
He’s not about to make a thing of it. Everyone’s still running on fumes, soaked, and shaking. They don’t need another problem. He’s a probie still, not by title sure, but the idea sticks in his head like a brand. So, he keeps moving. He folds his wet gear, swaps into sweats, and focuses on the steps.
One at a time, like always.
Ravi laughs, or well, tries to at one of Buck’s jokes. The sound is thin. He feels… weird. Lightheaded, maybe? His heart is beating too fast, and the rest of him feels so slow and heavy. By the time he pulls his shirt over his head, his fingers are stiff. It feels harder to tie his laces, and the room is tilting slightly. The lights are too bright, the air too still, the noise too quiet for the amount of people around.
Just the adrenaline. He repeats it like a mantra. He’s fine.
When they all step back out into the main bay, the triage setup is in full swing. May is running it like she was born for it, which in a way she was. She’s directing Mara and Denny around to help the volunteers, the kids who are taking it seriously. Ravi knows just how proud Hen would be.
He takes a second in the corner of the bay, rubbing his arms briskly. The motion does little. His breath clouds faintly in the air, inside? That’s new. He stares at it for a beat too long before forcing his focus back to the triage tables. Check vitals. Reassure. Move on. He repeats it like a checklist, the way he does on hard calls. But the words keep slipping through his fingers, same as warmth does.
He takes a breath as he moves to help, kneeling beside an older woman with a small head wound. He checks the makeshift bandage, and his hands don’t feel steady. It takes longer than it should for his fingers to register the touch.
He reaches for a new gauze pack and misses. The motion’s off, his hand doesn’t quite land where he expects it to. The packet slides off the table, skids across the floor. He laughs it off, pretends his knees aren’t shaking.
The woman he’s helping gives him a worried look. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” he says quickly. “Just— slippery hands.”
His gloves are off. His hands aren’t slippery. They’re just… not working right.
Instead of focusing on his hands, he counts the beats between her breaths. Numbers are reliable. They don’t waver.
“Okay, ma’am, you’re doing great, just keep still.”
His voice sounds strange to his own ears. Almost like he’s trying to speak under water. He sits back on his heels for a second, swallows hard. The world tilts again, the lights slightly blurred. He blinks till it steadies.
Come on Ravi. Get it together.
But the shivering starts a moment later – small at first, then harder, uncontrollable. His teeth keep clicking together, his hands won’t stop shaking.
He rubs them against his jacket sleeves, but the motion feels clumsy, uncoordinated.
He’s pale. He can tell May think’s something is up by the too long of a look she gave him before someone asked her for help. He blinks as he shows the woman how to keep a steady hold on the bandage.
Ravi then moves to get up, shaky on his legs as the world spins. He doesn’t realise how pale he’s gotten or the blue tinge on his lips. He just keeps working – because it's what they do. They keep going.
He moves towards a younger woman, her leg wrapped in a temporary splint. He smiles at her, or well, tries to. The expression isn’t reaching his eyes.
“Hey, you’re doing good, they’ll get you checked out at the hospital soon.” He says softly.
Her gaze flicks over him, a mix of confusion and… concern? “Are you okay? You look cold.”
He wants to tell her she’s wrong, that he’s supposed to be reassuring her, not worrying. The embarrassment burns hotter than the cold as he forces a smile. He opens his mouth to answer, but the words come out wrong. Slow, and slurred around the edges. “‘M’ fine. Just… a bit, uh– a…a bit cold.”
His tongue feels thick. His brain fumbles for words that don’t come,like he’s undergoing chemotherapy again. His fingers are stiff, shaking, and he can’t feel his finger tips. He flexes them once, twice, trying to force warmth back into aching bones. The motion makes his stomach twist. Too much effort for too little of a result. When he tries to place a small pillow under her head, it slips right out of his grasp.
The woman moves back to lean on her elbows, frowning. “You don’t look fine.”
Ravi blinks at her, eyes seemingly looking through her. “‘S okay, just– cold, just gotta–” He trails off midsentence, her voice softening to a whisper.
The woman looks around, raising her voice “Hey! Somebody come here! This guy needs help!”
Her call cuts through the noise. May, who was sorting water bottles, spins towards the sound. Chimney and Eddie's heads snap up instantly from where they stand.
“Ravi?” Chimney says as they rush over.
Ravi’s sitting back on his heels now, blinking sluggishly, as he half unzips his jacket like he’s trying to take it off. His movements are jerky, his hands fumbling with the zipper and Chimney’s gut twists. All the voices are blurring together. He thinks someone is saying his name, but it sounds like a dream. He couldn’t answer if he wanted to.
“Hey, don’t do that,” Eddie says quickly, kneeling beside him, hands gently moving Ravi’s own. “‘Leave it on, okay?”
Ravi looks at him blankly, shivering so hard he can barely keep upright. “’M’ hot,” he murmurs. “Too hot.” He feels like he’s burning alive. Like there's a fire inside him that he can’t put out.
Chimney’s looking at him oddly, like he’s scanning him for injuries, with wide eyes with a sharp focus he gets when something is bad. Ravi’s lips are blue. His skin’s pale, clammy, wet with sweat despite the chill.
“Eddie,” Chimney says, voice clipped. “He’s hypothermic. Bad.” Ravi isn’t processing anything anyone is saying. The words are swimming around as he sways where he sits.
May hurries over, worry flickering across her face. “Hypothermic? But we’re inside, it’s warm—”
“We were in freezing water for over an hour,” Chimney’s pulling the blue gloves on and Ravi’s oh so very confused. “He always has had issues with his core temperature.”
Eddie tightens his hold as Ravi sways again. “Hey, Rav, look at me. You’re okay, we’ve got you, alright?”
Ravi blinks slowly, eyes unfocused. “’...Fine,” he mumbles, the words barely audible. “Just tired.”
Chimney presses the thermometer into Ravi’s ear as Ravi whines and tries to back away from the intrusion. Chimney rests his hand on the back of Ravi’s neck, attempting to steady him and wincing at the ice cold feeling.
The thermometer beeps far too soon. “Eight-nine, Shit.” Chimney swears.
May kneels down opposite him. “What do you need?”
“Blankets, warm packs, IV line, heated fluids if we’ve got any,” Chimney rattles off. “Now.”
She bolts.
Ravi’s head dips forward suddenly, his chin hitting his chest. Eddie catches him by the shoulder. “Whoa, hey— hey, stay with me. You gotta keep your eyes open.”
Ravi tries. He really does. But everything feels slow, foggy. The sounds around him blend together — Chimney’s voice, the noise of triage, the hum in his ears. He feels distant, like he’s sinking underwater again.
“C’n’t think,” he mutters, voice thick. “Can’t… ‘member… what— ‘ddie? Off?” Again, trying to remove his jacket as his stomach fills with heat. The noise and lights are too much now. Every sound spikes sharp, then dulls like cotton. His brain can’t find the pattern anymore, and somehow that seems worse.
“I know you feel hot,” Eddie says softly, moving his hands away and rubbing his arms to generate friction. “But you’re too cold. Have to keep it on, while we warm you up.”
Chimney’s trying to get the line in, but struggles. Ravi’s veins, small and constricted, and he keeps moving. “Come on Rav, stay still for me,” he says.
Ravi’s head lolls to the side. His eyelids flutter. “Cold?” he whispers, barely audible now.
“Yeah, buddy,” Eddie murmurs, his voice breaking around the edges. “We’re fixing it.”
May returns with a stack of blankets and hands them off. Eddie wraps one around Ravi’s shoulders, another around his legs.. Chimney finally slides the IV needle in, connecting the line. “Got it,” he says, exhaling. “Warm saline. It’s not much, but it’ll help.”
Ravi makes a small noise — something between a groan and a sigh. He’s still shivering, but slower now, weak, his body running out of strength.
“Come on, Panikkar,” Chimney mutters, squeezing the infusion bag. “You’re not clocking out early, you hear me?”
A familiar voice cuts through the noise “Whoa, what’s going on?”
Buck jogs up, sweaty from running around, concern written all over his face as he takes in the sight. Ravi, pale and slumped on Eddie’s shoulder, blankets piled around, and an IV in his arm.
“Hypothermic,” Chimney says tightly, still monitoring the fluids. “Got down to around eighty-nine. He’s barely holding temp.” Buck’s eyes flicker to Eddie with a silent, tight exchange that says what words don’t: Not again. Not another one of ours.
Buck immediately drops down beside them, instinctively pressing close to Ravi’s other side. “What can I do?”
“You run hot,” Chimney says without missing a beat. “Good. Body-to-body’s the best we’ve got right now. Jacket off, get some heat on him.”
Buck doesn’t hesitate, shrugs out of his damp jacket and wraps himself around Ravi’s left side under the blankets, rubbing briskly at Ravi’s arms. “Hey, buddy. You’re okay. We’re gonna get you warm, alright? You just stay with me.”
Ravi gives off a faint sound, half a mumble, half a whine. His words slur together. “Feels… weird… hot-cold.. can’t.” His head feels like it’s going to fall off, and he can’t quite even remember where he is.
“Yeah, that’s the rewarming,” Eddie says quietly, rubbing Ravi’s back. “Your body’s confused. Just breathe.”
Chimney checks his pulse again, it’s faster now, erratic. “Heart rate’s up, good sign. We’re hitting the rewarm zone.”
May crouches nearby with a portable heater pack. “Got more hot packs from the ambulance,” she says.
Chimney takes them. “Good. Eddie, Buck, Armpits, groin and torso for now.”
Buck nods, taking a heatpack and sliding it gently beneath Ravi’s jacket at his ribs, and another at his chest. Ravi flinches, jerking hard as he sucks in a deep breath. The heat feels like fire licking at his ribs.
“I know it hurts. Your nerves are waking back up.” He murmurs while Eddie and Chimney place more heatpacks, each additional one making Ravi whimper.
Ravi’s shivering kicks up again, violent and uncontrolled tremors ripping through him. They hurt, and his teeth chatter so hard that any other day he would worry about a dentist visiting being needed after. He winces again, clutching his stomach.
“Hurts,” he mumbles, trying to move away from the pain. “Chest hurts.”
“Yeah, rewarming pain,” Chimney says, checking the monitor. “Muscles cramping, vessels dilating. It’s gonna feel rough for a bit. You’re okay kid.”
May passes him another blanket fresh from a heater. Eddie layers it over the others, tucking it tight around Ravi’s shoulders. Buck keeps up steady friction, murmuring quietly whenever Ravi’s eyes start to drift closed.
Ravi shivers hard again, then groans. “Feel… sick.”
“That’s still normal,” Chimney says, steady, clinical. “Body’s freaking out a little. You’re not dying, I promise. We won’t let you.”
Buck huffs a laugh. “You’re a real comfort, Cap.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Chimney mutters. “You want him awake, don’t you?”
The minutes stretch long and heavy, punctuated by the rhythmic beep of the portable monitor and the hum of the triage bay beyond them. Outside, debris keeps falling, the world keeps moving, but inside this corner, time has narrowed down to Ravi’s shaking breaths.
Chimney sticks the probe back in his ear, and this time Ravi doesn’t fight it. “Ninty-three. He’s coming back.” He exhales with relief, as he changes out the IV bag.
Ravi nods, his breathing deepening, steadier now, though not without tremours. His skin is flushed from the rewarming, patches of colour breaking through.
He’s sweating now under the layers, flushed instead of pale. His words come a little clearer — still slow, but more coherent. “S’gonna be… paperwork, huh?”
“Oh, yeah,” Eddie says dryly. “Endless. I’m putting in that you scared the hell out of us.”
Ravi gives a faint smile, eyes still closed. “Don’t… tell Hen. She’ll worry.”
Buck huffs quietly, still trying to rub warmth into his arms. “You always think everyone worrying about you is a bad thing.”
Ravi doesn’t answer. It’s easier when people don’t.
Slowly his core temperature raises above a ninety-five, the worst of the lethargy lifting. He’s still shivering, but in a more controlled manner. Chimney watches the monitor, satisfied but cautious. “He’s stabilising. We’ll keep the warming techniques till we can transfer him.”
May exhales, the tension leaving her shoulders. “Ambulances are still backed up, but I’ll keep checking.”
“Don’t rush it,” Chimney says quietly, glancing down at Ravi. “He’s holding his own now.”
Ravi looks between them blearily eyed. “M’kay to sleep now?” he mumbles, head tipping toward Buck’s shoulder.
Eddie smirks. “Nice try. You can nap after the other medics take over.”
“Unfair,” Ravi mutters, but his voice is clearer, the slur fading.
Chimney sighs as he leans back on his heels. “You really scared us Rav.”
That makes Ravi feel bad. He obviously didn’t intend for this to happen, yet it did. “Sorry, I’ll shiver quieter next time.”
Eddie frowns. “Don’t even try. You’re allowed to need help too, kid.”
Ravi smiles as the noises of triage fades back in. The clatter of gurney’s, Mara’s voice as she banters with Denny. The world feels small still, just him, his crew and the feeling of warmth again.
And though he’s exhausted and so sore, he knows deep down that he’s safe. He lets his eyes drift around, listening to the hum of people, and Buck’s steady breathing behind him. The heat is comforting, and for the first time all night he can think.
They brought him back.