A/N - I decided to write a few possible scenarios that I think would be potential Season 13 openers (following on from the Season 12 finale).

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.

Zahko, Iraq.

"Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs turned to see young Luke Harris looking up at him. In that instant, the bustling market place melted away and it was just him and Luke. For an instant they locked eyes. Gibbs saw something had changed in the boy's eyes and sensed the kid was about to do something unimaginable.

Luke slowly and calmly raised his arm. Gibbs saw the gun and reached for the weapon secreted in the waistband at the back of his pants, but he was a fraction too slow. Luke had his weapon already drawn and aimed and the first shot rang out. The impact of the first bullet took Gibbs' left leg from under him as it struck below his knee. He cried out in pain as he toppled, face first, to the ground.

In survival mode, despite his pain, he managed to get to his knees and attempted to stand. Shocked, he looked Luke in the eyes once more and could see that the child was intent on his mission. Gibbs was thrown backwards as the second bullet struck him high in his chest. He landed on his back and lay winded and grievously wounded on the sandy ground, unable to believe that the young lad he had tried to help had shot him.

The noise of the market place faded as shock set in and a ringing began in his ears as his body tried to cope with the initial trauma. The pain was excruciating and Gibbs knew he would pass out soon. His military training kicked in and he could hear familiar voices from his past ordering him to keep his eyes open as he lay there struggling to take a breath. He forced them open and stared up at the sky. It was beautiful, he noted, just a wispy white cloud breaking the azure blue of the Iraqi sky. Would that be the last thing he saw, he wondered, as he coughed and tasted blood in his mouth?

Tony raced to where his boss had fallen. He had reacted to the first shot and was running to his boss' aid, when the second shot rang out and he was forced to watch in horror as that bullet sent Gibbs flailing to the ground and the teen gunman melded into the fleeing crowd. DiNozzo had to decide whether to give chase and apprehend Luke or help his boss. It was an easy decision. He dropped to his knees beside Gibbs.

"I got ye, Boss. You're going to be okay," he said, not whole-heartedly believing it himself. "Just hold on," he said as he visually assessed Gibbs injuries.

Gibbs fading view of the magical sky was interrupted by DiNozzo's worried face. He could see Tony was saying something to him, but he struggled to make it out. He felt his senior agent's strong hands press down on his chest, immediately elevating the severity of his pain. His struggle for breath continued.

He looked up into Tony's face. He noticed that he had tears in his eyes and Gibbs felt a pang of guilt for causing them. Then everything began to blur. He felt as if he was floating. His pain was diminishing. His body relaxed and his eyes gently closed.

"No, Boss. Don't you dare," Tony pleaded. "Come on, Boss. Stay with me now. Gibbs!"

CIA Agent Joanna Teague, the recently deceased Agent Ned Dorneget's mother, had run to their assistance having heard the shots from across the market place and seeing Gibbs fall. She removed her hijab and offered it to Tony to stem the blood flow from Gibbs' chest. An Iraqi police patrol were nearby and had also heard the shots and reacted quickly. They rapidly cleared the market square and set up a secure perimeter.

One of the police men, a former Iraqi Army medic named Rahim Hajjar, ran to the assistance of the Americans. He carried with him an emergency medical bag from their truck and quickly set about using it. He tended to the fallen man while he reported the situation via his radio.

DiNozzo was screaming at him to get Gibbs' to a hospital, but whether it was because he was deliberately ignoring him or just intent on saving Gibbs' life, Raheem did not react to Tony's demands. He had cut Gibbs' shirt away from the chest and, having identified a sucking chest wound, a common wound he would have seen as an army medic, he placed an occlusive chest seal over the entry wound. Having secured the bandage over the wound, he rolled Gibbs onto his wounded side and into the recovery position and waited for help to arrive.

All the while, Tony was frantic. He couldn't help but wish that there was still an American military presence in Iraq. At least he knew Gibbs would receive the best medical care, but they had withdrawn many years ago. He didn't know what to expect in the new Iraq. Was Gibbs going to die because of the lack of infrastructure in this recovering country? The policeman checked Gibbs' for a pulse. He looked at Tony and smiled.

"He lives," he told him in broken English. Tony didn't smile back.

"Thank you," Tony said, shaking the soldier's hand. "Can you help me get him to a hospital?" he asked, still clinging to his hand.

The soldier's radio crackled into life. He responded in his native language.

"Help is coming," the soldier then told him.

The words had only left his mouth when a battered-looking ambulance drove into the square. Two paramedics casually climbed out, opened the back and unloaded a gurney. After a quick conversation with Raheem, they loaded Gibbs' limp body onto the gurney and into the back of the ambulance. Tony tried to follow, but one of the medics stopped him. Tony tried to argue with him, but he was insistent. Tony was at his wit's end as the ambulance door closed and it disappeared to God knows where with Gibbs on board.

Tony ran his hand through his hair and turned to Joanna in frustration. He was close to tears. Where were they taking him?

"Hey, American," Raheem shouted from the back of his truck. "You come. I take you to hospital."

Tony was so relieved he ran straight to the truck and grasped the policeman's hand, thanking him profusely. Joanna followed and hopped in the back with Tony. Raheem hammered the roof of the flat-bed truck to signal to the driver to go. They sped through the dusty streets of Zahko for a few minutes before turning into the entrance of a brand new, modern-looking hospital building.

The truck stopped behind the now empty ambulance in the ambulance bay. Tony and Joanna climbed down from the truck.

"Thank you so much," Tony said, shaking the Raheem's hand. "I owe you."

"Good luck," he said. "I hope for your friend to get well."

"Me too," Tony replied.

He turned and hurried into the trauma centre. He looked around and could see no sign of Gibbs or of much activity for that matter. He went to the admissions desk.

"Excuse me. I'm looking for an American. His name is Gibbs. He was brought here a couple of minutes ago in that ambulance. He was shot in the chest," Tony tried to explain to the girl behind the desk.

She looked up blankly at him.

"American. Shot," Tony said, making the universal sign for gun with his hands.

Then Joanna stepped in and asked in fluent Arabic about Gibbs. Tony stood back, impressed with Joanna's language skills, but was too worried to compliment her. She turned to him and translated what the girl told her.

"He was taken straight to emergency surgery," she told him. "She said we can wait in a relative's room on the first floor."

Tony tried to take it in. It was becoming a bit too much for him. He felt claustrophobic all of a sudden and turned without a word and rushed back outside to the ambulance bay and gulped the warm air.

Joanna followed him, concerned.

"Are you okay, Agent DiNozzo?"

He took a few more deep breaths before answering.

"Not really. Damn it! How could I let this happen? I should have been with him, Joanna. This is my fault," he said angrily. "I was distracted by Budd. He called and I let my guard down. I should have had his back."

"This is not your fault, Tony," she told him. "We still have work to do. I know you can't think about work right now, but those kids are still out there. Who knows what else The Calling has lined up?"

"Yeah, I know but I need to call the Navy Yard. I need to tell the rest of the team what's happened," he told her.

"I understand," Joanna replied. "You do that. I'll contact my office and see if they have any new intel on Budd. You said he called you? We might be able to trace the number."

"I doubt it. He's very careful," he said, showing the number for her to take note.

"Leave it with me. You stay here and let me know how Gibbs is," Joanna told him. "I'll arrange some security, you know, just in case. I'll call you later."

Tony went back inside and found the relative's room, then he made the call to Director Vance.

"DiNozzo, what the hell's going on? I thought we would have heard from you before now. Did you find the kids?" Vance asked.

Tony remained quiet for a moment, not sure the best way to break the news. Just say it, he thought.

"Agent DiNozzo? Can you hear me?"

"Something happened," Tony began. "It was a trap, Director. Gibbs was shot."

"Shot? How bad?"

"Pretty bad," DiNozzo told him. "He's in surgery now."

"Who shot him?" Vance asked.

"I think it was Luke. I couldn't see clearly. Budd called me and I lost track of Gibbs for a minute, only a minute. Then I heard the shots," DiNozzo admitted.

"Agent Teague?"

"She's fine. She's gone back to the hotel to contact her office," Tony told him.

"Good. I'll inform the team about Gibbs. Let me know as soon as he's out of surgery," Vance told him.

Vance hung up and composed himself. He was angry and upset that his agent had been targeted. Now he had to go and break the news to Gibbs' team, his family. He took his time walking downstairs to the bullpen where McGee and Bishop were working.

He broke the news to them as gently as he could. They were never-the-less shocked and upset and wondering what they could do. Vance told them to continue to do their jobs, that Gibbs would want that. They had to find Daniel Budd and stop him. He was ultimately responsible for what had transpired.

His next port-of-call was to autopsy to inform Ducky, Gibbs' close friend. Ducky was sitting at his desk at the side of the large sterile-looking room when Vance entered.

"Ah, Director," he said happily. "How lovely to see you. We don't often see you down here. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Doctor Mallard, I'm afraid I bring some bad news," Vance told him. "Gibbs has been injured in Iraq."

"What? Oh my. Is it serious?" he asked, his demeanour immediately changing.

"All I know is that he was shot and is in surgery at the moment. Agent DiNozzo said it was bad. He's at the hospital and said he will call as soon as there is any news."

"Oh dear. Does Abigail know yet?" Ducky asked, knowing how upset the young forensic scientist would be.

"Not yet, Doctor. I was hoping you would come with me when I tell her," Vance asked.

"Of course," Ducky replied and straightened his British stiff upper lip.

Together they made their way to the forensic lab. The music was pumping as Abby keyed away feverishly at her computer console. The director cleared his throat, but she didn't hear him above the noise.

"Ms. Sciuto," he said, startling her.

She turned around suddenly, surprised to see the director and doctor in her lab.

"Oh, hey," she said, wondering what they needed as she muted the music.

They looked very serious and sombre. Abby sense something was wrong.

"What's going on?" she asked nervously.

The doctor sighed struggling to hide his own upset.

"Abigail, something has happened to Jethro," he began.

"Gibbs? No. What is it? What happened? Tell me," she demanded anxiously.

"He was shot earlier this afternoon," he told her.

"Shot? Oh God, no. Please tell me he's alive," she pleaded.

"He is. He's in surgery but I understand that his injuries are quite serious," Ducky told her.

"Serious? How serious? Could he die?" she asked.

"I don't know any details yet, my dear," he admitted. "Tony is at the hospital in Zahko and I will try and contact him as soon as I can, but Jethro is strong. He'll be fine."

As he heard the words, he prayed he was right. Suddenly Abby turned to her workstation and started typing furiously.

"What are you doing?" Vance asked.

"Finding the next available flight to Bagdad," she told him. "Or maybe Istanbul would be better. Zahko is just across the Turkish border, might be quicker."

"Ms. Sciuto," Vance interjected. "We should be able to arrange for you to get to Iraq, but we should wait and see how he is first."

"Why, because it would be cheaper just to send his body home?" Abby snapped and then realised how harsh her comment was. She saw the hurt on Vance's face and felt terrible. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"He may be transferred to another hospital. We don't know the situation but I will work on getting you out there if you really want to go," Vance told her.

"Of course I want to go. Gibbs is hurt. He needs me," she said.

"And I would like to accompany her, Director," Ducky said. "I am Agent Gibbs' medical proxy after all," he reminded Vance.

"Okay," Vance said with a nod of his head. "I'll make the necessary arrangements."

Meanwhile, back in Zahko, Tony was pacing the waiting area anxiously. His feelings swung between anger and helplessness. He really wanted to get his hands on that Harris kid, not to mention Daniel Budd. He was considering what he would do to them when his cell phone rang.

"Yeah, Dinozzo," he said.

"Tony, it's Joanna. Any news on Agent Gibbs?" Agent Teague asked.

"Nothing yet," he replied. "Anything on Budd?"

"Our techs were able to say that the call you received was made from the market square," she told him. "He was there, Tony, watching us."

"Is the phone still on? Can you trace it?"

"No. Looks like he dumped it," she told him. "But some of the kids have been spotted in a nearby town. I've sent a team over there to check out the reports. If I get an update I'll let you know," she told him.

"Thanks."

Tony resumed his waiting. The hours crawled by. He had spoken to McGee by phone, but had no update to provide. At last, as he sipped a cup of water, a short, rotund doctor approached him carrying a chart. Tony stood, preparing himself for what he may hear.

"Hello," the doctor said, extending his hand to the American. "I'm Dr. Nazari."

Tony shook the doctor's hand and noticed that it was clammy.

"Your friend, Mr. Gibbs, has survived his surgery," he began.

Tony released the breath he had been holding.

"Thank, God."

"His condition is serious and he is now in the Critical Care Unit," he told him, his English taking on a British accent leading Tony to assume he trained in the UK. "The bullet caused damage to his left lung but we were able to surgically repair it and re-inflate it. There was also damage to his pericardium, the sac surrounding his heart, which was caused by a bone fragment from a rib damaged by the bullet. He has lost a lot of blood and is very weak," the doctor explained.

"But he is going to be okay?" Tony asked.

"It's early days. Too soon to say with certainty," the doctor replied.

"And his leg?"

"The bullet fractured his tibia. We will need to call in a specialist when he is stronger as he will need a more intricate surgery. We have cleaned the wound and removed the bullet which will suffice until he is stronger," the doctor explained.

Tony listened but didn't really hear. All he cared about was that Gibbs was alive. He needed to see for himself.

"Can I see him?" he asked.

The doctor smiled.

"If you follow me," he said, turning and leading the way down the corridor.

They took a right turn and the doctor opened the doors to the Critical Care Unit using an access card. He led Tony to a small single room where he walked around to the head of the bed, allowing Tony access to the bedside nearest to the door. He looked down at his boss who was unconscious and breathing through a tube in his throat. The last time he had seen Gibbs so sick looking, he had been blown up and ended up with amnesia. That time, Director Shepard stood by his side and worried with him. This time, he was alone, in a foreign country and really wished his team was around.

The doctor left him after checking the equipment briefly. Tony stood there unsure what to do. The silence was deafening, the only thing breaking it was the rhythmic sound of the ventilator.

"Oh, Boss," Tony said, resting his hand on Gibbs' bare arm. "I'm so sorry. I should have had your six, Boss. I let you down. Now look at you, but you've got to fight for me, Boss. I need you to get well so …..hang in there, Boss."

Tony looked around and spied a plastic chair in the far corner of the tiny room. Other than that and the patient's bed and some equipment at the head of the bed, there was room for nothing else in the room, barely room to walk around to the other side of the bed. He pulled the chair close to the bed and sat. He desperately wanted to do something, but realised that he had no authority in Iraq.

The Iraqi police were already looking for the children. An officer, accompanied by Raheem who acted as translator, took Tony's statement while he had been waiting for Gibbs to get out of surgery. He told them everything, about Daniel Budd, about the radicalised children and about the potential for these children to carry out terror attacks locally.

They had descriptions. They also had been given contact details for the NCIS office in DC, who were prepared to share information to help them locate the perpetrators of the gun attack on Gibbs.

Tony sat for a while, mulling over what had happened, considering what Gibbs' future would be after such serious injuries. Considering his boss's age, would he ever return to active duty? He looked at the pale and drawn features of the man lying in the bed beside him. How would he cope if his career was over, Tony wondered. Then Tony realised that he was getting ahead of himself. He reminded himself that Gibbs wasn't out of the woods yet; one thing at a time.

Right now, he was just grateful that Gibbs was alive and that he had a fighting chance.

Tony was dozing, his head resting on his hand, when he was startled by a female voice with an American accent entering the room.

"Hi," she said as she walked to the head of the bed and began to unhook the empty saline bag. "How's our newest patient?"

"Eh, hi," Tony replied with a slight look of confusion on his face. "You're American," he said, stating the obvious.

"Yes, Sir, I am," she replied, her Texan drawl becoming more pronounced.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting to meet any American's here," he said, standing up and stretching his back out.

"Why would you? I'm a volunteer nurse. I've been here almost six months. There are a few of us here actually, just helping them get set up until they can train in local nurses. I'm Natalie, you can call me Nat."

"Hi, Nat. I'm Tony," he said, extending his hand. "This is Gibbs. So, how is he?"

"He's doing okay considering," she replied, as she hung a fresh saline bag on the IV stand.

She checked the read-out from the cardiac monitor and checked his O2 sats.

"He's stabilised," she said with a reassuring smile. "He was lucky, I hear. Another centimetre higher and he'd be dead."

Tony digested that fact for a moment.

"Why don't you take a break? You look beat," Natalie said when she noticed how pale and tired the American agent was. "There's a small cafeteria on the ground floor. He'll be fine for a few hours if you wanted to go back to your hotel and get some sleep."

"Thanks," Tony said. "I might go and get some coffee but I doubt I would be able to sleep. I'll be back in a while."

Meanwhile, a C90 flight had taken off from DC. On board were Dr. Donald Mallard and Abby Sciuto. They were bound for an American base on the Turkish border and from there they would take a truck into Iraq and drive to Zahko.

There was little conversation on the flight. Ducky had heard from Tony, before the flight took off, the details of Gibbs injuries. He realised how gravely his friend was wounded. He couldn't help but wonder what news awaited them when they landed. He looked over at Abby who was trying to put on a brave face, but he could see how devastated she was. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. She had been crying but not in front of him. She held a rosary beads in her hands, twisting it occasionally. He knew she was praying.

McGee remained in DC. He was continuously working, communicating between Agent Teague in Iraq and gathering as much information on Daniel Budd as he could to make sure he was caught.

DiNozzo spent the night at the hospital, rarely leaving Gibbs' side. Agent Teague stopped by for an hour and offered to stay the night so that Tony could get some rest, but Tony declined her offer. She had little news on the shooter or on Budd. He could be anywhere. The Iraqi police had placed a guard outside the Critical Care Unit to protect the Americans which gave Tony little comfort.

He was glad, however, when Dr. Nazari appeared the next morning. He examined the chart and then did a quick exam of Gibbs. Tony waited outside the door until he was invited back in.

"He is doing well," Dr. Nazari said, reassuring him. "I have decided to hold the sedation and try wake him up. We have taken him off the ventilator and he is breathing on his own. Sit with him. Talk to him. He should wake in the next few hours."

"Thank you, Doctor," Tony said, shaking the man's hand furiously. "Thank you so much."

Tony resumed his vigil but this time he had hope. Without the ventilator breathing for him, Gibbs looked so much better. Tony felt a small sense of relief. It was now 24 hours since Gibbs' had been wounded, the longest 24 hours of his life.

Another few hours passed before Gibbs showed the first signs of waking. Tony had been watching him very closely. Initially, he noticed how his breathing had changed slightly. There was a sense of anticipation. A while later, his head moved a little on the pillow and his eyelids fluttered. Tony grabbed for his hand and spoke to him.

"Boss?" he said, leaning forward on his seat. "Come on, open your eyes."

To his delight, Gibbs obeyed. His eyes opened sluggishly but were unrecognising.

"It's me, Boss. Tony."

It took a few moments for Gibbs to manage to focus his vision and then he gave a faint smile of recognition.

"Heh hey!" Tony exclaimed in delight when he realised Gibbs knew him.

"Wha….?" Gibbs tried to speak but struggled to form words.

"Ssshh," Tony said as he reached for a glass of water with a straw and offered it to Gibbs.

Gibbs took a small sip and tried to speak again.

"What happened?"

"You were shot, Boss," Tony told him. "Luke Harris shot you."

Gibbs digested that nugget of information. He struggled to remember. His face creased as he tried to recall recent events.

"We're in Iraq," Tony told him, anticipating Gibbs next question.

Gibbs eyes closed momentarily once more. He felt so weak. While his eyes were closed, a flash of a memory came back to him. A voice- "Agent Gibbs". He remembered turning and then pain.

His eyes shot open again and DiNozzo was standing over him looking concerned.

"Luke."

"Yeah, Boss."

"Did ye get him?"

"No, Boss," Tony replied, sounding disillusioned. He knew he had let Gibbs down. "They're still looking for him."

Gibbs knew from the heaviness in his chest that he had taken one in the torso. Breathing was an effort. He looked down towards his knee which he could feel was heavily swathed in bandages. Tony saw him looking down and knew what he must be thinking; career ending injury.

"You're going to need more surgery on that knee," Tony told him, trying to sound upbeat. "They want you to be a little stronger before they put you through it."

Gibbs sighed heavily. He was struggling to stay awake. Tony could see it.

"You rest, Boss. I'll be here when you wake," he promised.

Gibbs didn't fight the urge to sleep. He drifted away easily. During the rest of that day he woke for short periods and slept for longer periods. Tony did as he promised and stayed by his side, loyal to a fault. And he was still there that night when an exhausted Donald Mallard and Abby Sciuto arrived at the hospital. Tony had to tell the Iraqi guard that it was okay to let them through to see Gibbs.

"Oh, Tony," Abby said dramatically when she first set eyes on hiim. "He looks awful."

"He's lucky to be alive, Abs. We nearly lost him this time," Tony told her as they stood shoulder to shoulder looking down at him.

Abby put her hand to her mouth as if she couldn't bear the thought. Ducky had a cursory look at the monitors that surrounded Gibbs and then brazenly removed the chart which was in a holder just inside the door of the room so he could have a look.

"Did he wake at all?" Abby asked.

"He's been in and out most of the day," Tony told her.

"Oh my," Ducky said, as he understood some of the notations on the chart. While his Arabic wasn't very good, he knew enough from his time in the service to read the chart.

"What is it?" Abby asked.

"The bullet tore his lung and fractured a rib which caused damage to his pericardium," Ducky told her. "You weren't exaggerating Tony when you said he was lucky to be alive."

Ducky continued reading and took out an x-ray and held it up to the light. It was of Gibbs' leg and it looked bad. The bullet had hit bone and fractured the head of the tibia. He would definitely need reconstructive surgery.

As they were looking at the x-ray, they failed to notice Gibbs opening his eyes.

"How bad, Duck?" he said sounding hoarse.

"Jethro!" Ducky exclaimed as he turned around, surprised to hear his voice.

"Gibbs!" Abby screamed before launching herself toward him without thinking and hugging him tightly.

She felt him flinch and released him quickly, annoyed with herself for not considering his injuries.

"Oh my God," she said feeling embarrassed. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"Good to see you, Abs," Gibbs said, putting his best foot forward.

"How do you feel, Jethro?" Ducky asked, ever the physician.

"Been better," Gibbs replied honestly.

Gibbs gestured towards the x-rays in Ducky's hands.

"Show me," he asked, wanting to see the damage for himself.

Ducky glanced at Tony who shrugged his shoulders as if to say why not. Ducky raised the film to the light above Jethro. The x-ray showed no bullet but an obvious fracture high in the tibia and a few smaller but more severe fractures lower down the bone. He sensed that this may be a career-ending injury.

"Am I done, Duck?" he asked, not really wanting to hear the answer, but he trusted his friend to be truthful.

Ducky sighed and shook his head.

"It's hard to say, Jethro. There are many fine ortho surgeons who will get you back on your feet, but the recovery time will be long. And then getting back to fitness for duty, at your age, I just don't know. I'd never say never though," he said, trying to soften the blow.

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs said, appreciative of his honesty. "How did you guys get here?" he asked, remembering that they were in Iraq.

"It's a long story, and we'll tell you when you're feeling better. For now, I think young Anthony should head to his hotel and find a shower," Ducky said, stepping back from DiNozzo, who raised his arm and sniffed his pits.

"Woah," he said, realising that he reeked. "Better go, Boss. Three day old scent of a man is not that attractive. I'll see you in a few hours."

"Tony," Gibbs called as DiNozzo was leaving. "Thanks."

Tony was surprised by Gibbs' gratitude but felt humbled, knowing that he meant it.

"No problem, Boss," Tony replied.

Over the following few days decisions had to be made in relation to repatriating the wounded Gibbs and his ongoing medical treatment Stateside. It was agreed that he would be flown home to a naval hospital that was familiar with treating traumatic wounds. He had grown stronger and was recovering from the chest wound. Needless to say, he was more anxious than anyone that he be cleared so that he could fly back to the states.

He had also been giving Tony a hard time, insisting that DiNozzo concentrate on finding Daniel Budd and his followers. However, they had apparently vanished from Iraq. Gibbs had a sense of fore-boding, fearing where they may strike in the future.

Gibbs was flown home a week later by air ambulance to continue his recovery. Once strong enough he underwent a complex surgery to repair his knee and began a long road to recovery. He was out on medical leave for almost six months during which time he had to undergo intense physical therapy.

Needless to say he was reluctant to accept help but knew that if he was to have any chance of seeing active duty again that he had to attend the therapy. And as fate would have it, while in therapy he met someone, a lady friend. They met after one of his particularly difficult first appointments. He was sore and frustrated and needed coffee. Not having the energy to find good coffee, he settled for the cafeteria at the hospital. While in line the lady ahead of him offered to help him carry the beverage as he was still on crutches at that stage. There as something about her smile or her energy that made him immediately feel at ease.

He turned on the charm and asked her if she would like to join him and much to his surprise she said yes. They chatted, small talk at first, but then more in depth conversation. He discovered that she too was a patient although she was well on the road to recovery. Her name was Sara. She told him that she had been involved in a horse-riding accident which had left her with a fractured pelvis and damaged knee. But she was almost back to normal now, she told him.

Gibbs told her about his injury without going into too much detail of the circumstances. They parted ways after their first meeting without exchanging numbers. Gibbs went home hoping that their paths would cross again. Luckily for them both, they did. The second time he was more prepared and gave her his card, hoping that she would call him sometime.

And she did. And so began a beautiful friendship. She helped him get through his darker days. He spent time out on her small farm, keeping busy doing small carpentry jobs for her. Soon their friendship developed into something more and Gibbs felt something he hadn't felt in a long time – contentment.

When he was eventually permitted to return to work he was assigned to desk duty for another few months. He struggled with being confined to the office during this time, but his team did their utmost to ensure that he felt useful. Tony took control of the team in the field and excelled in the role.

It was during his desk duty stint that Luke Harris was identified as the suicide bomber who walked into a border crossing between Iraq and Turkey and detonated a bomb killing himself and eight Turkish soldiers and two civilians. The news hit Gibbs hard. He felt that he had failed. The boy was there for the saving. He had given him every chance. He had tried. Even after the kid had almost killed him, he had insisted that Tony try and find him and get him away from the devilish grip of The Calling.

But Daniel Budd was good. He had a network of followers and seemed able to appear and disappear throughout the Middle East with ease. Agent Joanna Teague was dedicated to finding him, not only because he had killed her son, but because she knew how dangerous he could be. It was proving a gargantuan task.

Gibbs struggled with guilt over his failure to help the boy. He dreamt about Luke Harris often. However, having Sara to lean on proved his salvation. She refused to allow him wallow, sent him home if he refused to talk to her and made him work hard to deserve her. And he did.

Even after he was returned to active duty, Gibbs was never the same. His knee ached almost every day. On bad days it was enough to cause him to limp. But he hid it well and kept going for a couple of years until Sara finally convinced him to retired. He continued to consult on some cases, as his experience was invaluable, but he was content. He moved in with Sara and helped her with the running of the farm and they were happy.

Getting shot changed his life but Gibbs determination and the people he was surrounded by helped him through. Fate had stepped in and given him a second chance and he was grateful.

The End

A/n - a happy ending. Wouldn't that be nice.