A/N: Standard disclaimers apply.

"Bleeding out… I'm bleeding out."

The thought seemed to grab hold of his mind and overtake everything else.

Magnum took as deep of a breath as he could and tried to focus. He could feel himself getting lightheaded and knew that was a problem. It was yet another sign that the stab wound was deeper than he'd hoped when it had first been inflicted.

He shifted in his seat, trying to find some give in the duct tape that bound him to it. It wrapped around his chest, pinning him to the back of the chair, while his wrists were taped together, as were his ankles. His fighting against the bonds only succeeded in aggravating his injuries more, making stars dance across his vision and leaving him breathless.

When he coughed, the movement caused the pain in what felt like every area of his body to flare up angrily, only increasing as he gasped for breath. Besides the various cuts and bruises and probable cracked—if not broken—ribs he was sporting from the fight when the bad guys he was investigating had returned unexpectedly to find him poking around in their place of business, he also had a very nasty-looking stab wound just below the left side of his ribcage that was quickly becoming concerning.

What office still had letter openers lying around anyway? It was the twenty-first century, for crying out loud.

Panting, he carefully tried to shift to evaluate his situation again. There had to be a way to get out of this, to call for help, but he was kind of out of ideas. The fact that his wrists were secured behind his back kept him from being able to put pressure on his injury, and any attempts he'd made to work himself free had only served to make the blood trickling steadily from his side increase. That only added to the dizziness threatening his consciousness and the agony coursing through his veins, and he found himself fighting to stay awake again.

He wasn't sure he remembered why falling asleep was such a bad idea, but there was this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that told him it was. And it was strong enough of a nagging feeling that he felt inclined to listen to it.

"Everything I've been through, and I'm going to die in one of Honolulu's office buildings," he thought wryly, trying to stifle another cough.

He tried to distract himself with the thought that his friends knew where he'd been headed before he'd disappeared. All he had to do was hold on long enough for them to find him. But… he just wasn't so sure he could. Not with the way his head was reeling.

He gritted his teeth and tried to maneuver his wrists again, hoping for some miraculous slack to have appeared in the minutes that had passed since his last attempt. Still nothing except for what felt like even more blood soaking his already-ruined shirt. A slow glance down—why was he moving so slowly?—told him he was right; that's exactly what it was. He wondered how much blood he'd actually lost at this point, how much more he could afford to lose. It looked like an awful lot from his perspective.

Another wave of pain washed over him, and he groaned as he closed his eyes against it. He was never going to get out of this. He was literally going to bleed to death in this stuffy office, and no one would know until it was too late.

He felt his head growing lighter and found himself wondering if anyone was even looking for him. He had been sure they were, but… how sure was he really? Did they know he was missing? Had they started looking for him? Or were they going about their business as usual and not even aware he was strapped to an old metal chair, bleeding out, and in desperate need of rescue? Because, as much as Magnum was a fan of daring escapes, he was quickly becoming convinced he was going to need some help getting out of this particular predicament.

He could feel panic threatening the edges of his mind as his breaths started coming more quickly and his chest felt even tighter. Even as he pulled against his bonds again, somewhere in his foggy mind, he knew it wasn't a good idea. It was making the pain in his side even worse, and another quick glance downward told him the blood flow from the stab wound had increased even more.

And then, through the haze in his mind, he heard a voice. It wasn't his voice… No, it sounded suspiciously like… like Higgy. And it—she—was not happy with him.

"Oh for—Magnum. You're only making things worse."

But… he had to get free. Had to get help before he bled out…

"Stop moving about! I mean, if you want to bleed out, by all means, keep it up."

He frowned. Did she even realize what was happening? Or was his mind just playing tricks on him? He was fading pretty fast; he could feel it. Maybe this was all just something elaborately concocted by his mind to trick him into giving up… It certainly didn't seem like the worst idea at the moment.

"You're such a drama queen. Man up and take control of the situation."

Well, that was a little unfair. But mental-Higgy did have a point. Not about the first part, obviously, but the second. He needed to stay in control. Losing focus and letting himself panic were sure ways to guarantee the whole situation got even worse.

Magnum clenched his jaw and concentrated on breathing steadily through his nose. He needed to focus and think things through. There was a way out—there always was a way out—and, besides, his friends had to be looking for him by now. He'd stopped by the office on his way to meet up with the others at La Mariana… He wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed since he'd been left alone by the guys who'd stabbed him and tied him up, but it had to be at least an hour if his internal clock wasn't too far off. That meant he was long overdue at the bar, and that meant the others had to be looking for him.

Right, so, even if he couldn't get free on his own, that was okay. If he could just hold on until they showed up, he would be fine.

Another burst of white-hot fire ran up his side into his chest, and he swallowed as he breathed deeply against the rolling of his stomach. He could feel himself growing more and more tired by the second. His eyes felt heavy, and he shook his head to try to clear it.

"Gotta… stay awake, Thomas," he muttered to himself. He just had to keep his eyes open, keep himself from falling asleep… something was still telling him it was a bad idea to let himself drift off, but he was just so tired…

"Magnum!"

Oh, right; there was mental-Higgy again. She probably wasn't happy with the fact that he was about to give into the pull of the darkness.

He swallowed, wincing at how even that small motion hurt now. "Sorry," he muttered aloud. "Just… tired." Magnum blinked slowly, noticing how long it took his body to complete the action, and feeling extremely tempted to just keep his eyes closed. His head was spinning and felt even lighter than ever now.

"I know, but I need you to open your eyes. Come on now."

That was weird. Higgy didn't sound like she was in his head any more. More like right beside him…

"Hey, buddy, can you hear me?"

Wait… that wasn't Higgins' voice. That was… T.C.?

Something tugged at the duct tape around his chest then, and he felt himself starting to sag only to be caught by a firm pair of hands. The movement dragged a groan from him, and Magnum coughed on the pain that shot up into his head. Everything hurt so much.

"We got you, man. Just hold on."

Then he was falling… No, not falling. There were hands underneath him, lowering him to the floor. He gasped at the way his side was jostled as he settled onto the hard tiles, even as he felt his head coming to rest on something soft.

"Careful," someone said. It might have been Rick. "Hey, Thomas, can you hear me? Ambulance is on the way; you're gonna be fine."

Then there was movement at his side, and then pressure that had his eyes flying open. He gasped, feeling even more white-hot flashes of pain as his back arched reflexively.

"Shh, hey, it's okay," a quiet, British voice soothed, and he felt a hand on his forehead. "Just breathe. Come on; deep breaths. In, out, in—Good. There you go."

Magnum blinked, trying to bring the blurry form above him into focus even as his body seemed to listen to her instructions and started following her cadence. He swallowed again, squeezing his eyes shut, barely biting back another cry of pain as the pressure on his side shifted slightly.

"Magnum, look at me."

This time, when he managed to drag his eyes open, he could see Higgins watching him worriedly. Then his gaze flicked down to see Rick holding something against his side, a grim but determined look on his face.

Rick looked over to see Magnum watching him, and he offered an encouraging smile. "You're going to be okay, T.M." He exchanged glances with Higgins, then turned his attention back to Magnum's side.

Wincing again at the movement as Rick readjusted whatever he was using to stem the blood flow, Magnum fought against the way he still felt like he was about to fall asleep. It was just so hard… his head felt so light and his body felt so weak…

"Thomas." Hearing Higgy use his first name pulled Magnum's attention back to her, and he felt her hand on his face again, then one stroking his hair. "Come on; you have to stay with us. I know it's hard, but just a few more minutes. That's all I need from you."

He tried to nod, although his head didn't want to cooperate. But he could hear sirens now, although they seemed so far away, and he clenched his jaw in determination even as Rick joined Higgy in trying to keep him focused on them. They were right, he knew; he'd held on this long. He could hold on just a little longer. It was hard, but he could do it. And they'd be right there beside him to make sure he did.

Fin.