TITLE: It's Okay
GENRE: Angst/Hurt-Comfort
RATING: PG
CHALLENGE: Icon
SUMMARY: It's okay to be afraid.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, but maintain a steadfast belief that one day I will be married to Gibbs.
"Ziva? Ziva!" Gibbs knelt next to where she lay face down in the alley, one hand instinctively going to her shoulder, the other next to the growing red circle on her back as he examined the wound. "Crap." Carefully he turned her over.
The bullet had exited her chest at an angle, leaving even more blood soaking the front of her shirt. He didn't think it had hit her spine, he wasn't sure about her lung. He could hear her rapid breathing, but her eyes stared straight up, like she wasn't seeing him at all. "Ziva? Ziva, can you hear me?"
"Sh...shot?" she gasped, her eyes briefly looking at him.
"Through-and-through." His voice was quiet and measured, but it wasn't enough to stop her vision from drifting to the sky again. "Ziva? Ziva, stay with me." She continued staring straight up, her shoulders beginning to tremble. Gibbs put a hand on one of them and leaned over her face. "Ziva!"
0
Tears streamed down fourteen-year-old Ziva's face, and she struggled to hold them back. She lay on her side on a stretcher as medics applied pressure to the gunshot wound a few inches below her lower back, every touch making her wince. She'd seen people shot numerous times, even been shot at a few times, but until today it had never been her on the stretcher. And nobody had told her it would hurt this much.
"Ziva!" She looked up and immediately smiled with relief. Her father was rushing towards her. She held out a hand, anxious for some type of familiar contact.
Benjamin David impatiently pushed her arm back onto the stretcher. "How were you hit?"
"I-I don't know," she stammered. There had been so many bullets flying around her that the shot that hit her had caught her completely off guard. Her father's expression remained stern — fear, she guessed. Benjamin David had taken three bullets at various times in his life and witnessed countless others get shot. If it scared him... She swallowed. "How...how bad?"
He looked annoyed now. "Ziva, you were just shot in the buttocks. What do you think?" Her butt. Not her back. She started to cry again, this time from relief and reached her hand out to her father again. He simply stared at her. "Are you crying?"
Before she could answer, the medic pressed harder against her wound. She cried out in pain and squeezed her eyes shut. Her father didn't say a word. When she opened her eyes again, she saw him walking away, his back turned in disgust.
Another tear trickled down her cheek. She was alone.
0
"Ziva? Ziva, come on, talk to me! Ziva!"
She opened her eyes to see Gibbs looking down at her. His eyes were stern, but she thought she saw them relax slightly as he realized she was awake. "Stay with me," he said firmly.
She managed a nod, and tried to take a breath, then gasped. Immediately she shifted her features back to a neutral expression. She wasn't fourteen anymore — she could handle the pain this time.
Her eyes must have shown something, because Gibbs brought one hand to her shoulder. "Don't worry. EMTs are on the way." She nodded again and he gave a brief smile, then brought his second hand back down to continue applying pressure.
Sure enough, she saw the dark blue of their jackets appearing behind him. She watched silently as Gibbs stepped back, allowing them room to work, then closed her eyes and braced herself for the examination of the EMTs.
Ziva managed to only draw in a sharp breath as the cloth Gibbs had been pressing down was pulled away, exposing her wound to the air. She even kept herself from stiffening as the paramedic's fingers touched the area, carefully checking the wound. But the resumed pressure as he replaced the cloth was too much.
"Aaah!" The cry was out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop it. Someone squeezed her shoulder and she looked up. It was Gibbs. He hadn't left altogether, just moved to the side and was now helping to apply pressure to the bleeding. His face looked concerned. She tried to smile at him.
"Let's check her back." The EMTs were turning her over, inadvertently pressing her chest even harder against the hand that was already holding the dressing in place. Without thinking Ziva reached out, searching for Gibbs' other hand. She found it and squeezed, hard.
He squeezed back and she looked up into his eyes again. Gibbs smiled at her.
"It's okay."
THE END
This story was inspired by the following icon from Nikki74 (leave out spaces):
http://img . photobucket . com / albums / v482 / HannahStephannie / NCIS / 221016bxb . jpg