Impact
Summary: Im-pact n. im-pakt the striking of one thing against another; forceful contact; collision. Kate's POV
Pairing: Tony/Kate
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Everything happens in slow motion. She sees the car in front of her, Tony's car, begin to move as the light turns green and she sees the other car come flying through the intersection, through the red light. She hears his voice call out to her teasingly on the phone she's holding and before she can respond, before she can warn him, the car is already plowing into Tony's car. Even though the world around her has gone mute, she knows that whatever he was saying was cut short and even though her ears didn't - couldn't - process it, she knows that he uttered a single, strangled cry of pain just before his phone became useless.
She watches every detail of the crash. She sees the car make contact with the driver's side door and she watches as it bends inward. The glass from the window shatters into a million pieces and showers ever so slowly back into the car – onto Tony, she knows. She watches as the silhouette of his head jerks to the left suddenly, on impact, before his whole body begins to move, along with his car, to the right, toward the metal guardrail and the small ditch that lies just beyond it.
And suddenly, time begins to move at breakneck speed. Before she can move a muscle, his car is in the ditch, the front end of the other car attached to the door of Tony's car. Things begin to process in her brain again, and she feels a hundred different emotions at once, threatening to overwhelm her. She feels violently sick and for a moment, she can't figure out whether her body wants to pass out or throw up.
Fear, and with it adrenaline, slams into her suddenly and spurs her into action. She drops the phone that she had a death grip on and simultaneously throws the gear of her own car into park. Her years of training start to kick in as she runs to the site of the crash and she begins to detach herself from the situation. She jumps over the mangled guardrail and skids down the embankment to the passenger side of Tony's car, because she knows it's impossible to detach herself enough to check on the other driver first.
It's obvious that machinery would be needed to get him out because the car is sandwiched between the far side of the embankment and the other car, but she doesn't want to think about that right now. She needs to see him and until she does, all other thoughts would just be noise in the background.
She finally reaches his car and thanks God that the embankment is small enough that the passenger-side window is both visible and accessible. Her heart stops and her breath catches when she peers in through the glassless window. The first thing she registers is the blood that seems to be everywhere – on the dashboard, the carpet, the seats and the console. She can only see the neatly cut brown hair on the back of his head as he lies partially slumped over the passenger seat and notes that there is no blood on his backside, but she also knows that the blood that's in the car can only be his.
What worries her most is that he hasn't moved at all. To her surprise, her trembling fingers are already resting on his neck in the proper place to check for a pulse and she realizes with a start that she doesn't feel anything. Momentary panic grips her as it dawns on her that he could be gone forever, but she forces it back and tries to concentrate on helping him instead. She refuses to believe that he's beyond help. She moves her fingers to make sure she has the right spot and increases the pressure slightly. Her fingertips finally register a weak pulse and she just can't stop the small sob of relief that escapes her.
It's then that she remembers to call for help. She forces herself to pull her arm back out of the car, even though she wants nothing more than to just hold Tony and make everything better somehow. Stepping back slightly, she looks up from her position in the small ditch to see McGee standing just beyond the guardrail already talking frantically on his cell phone. His free arm is flailing wildly, while his face has turned red from panic; and, though she had forgotten that he had been in the car with her, she's grateful for his presence and for the fact that he had the mind to call for help.
Satisfied that help is coming, she turns her undivided attention back to Tony. She knows that as soon as he can, McGee will check on the other driver, but she can't leave Tony. She moves her hand back through the window and tentatively touches his head. She understands that moving him could be fatal, but she also understands that not moving him could be fatal too. But she can't think about that right now. She can't talk about fatality when it comes to Tony because she can't understand what it's like to live without Tony in her life. Absently, she wonders when Tony became such a vital part of her life, but she leaves that thought to linger in the back of her mind for now. There are more pressing things to worry about at the moment.
She puts her other arm through the window too, and gently grips his shoulder with one hand, and his head with the other. Slowly, she turns him from his position face down on the seat so that he is lying slightly on his side.
She gasps when she sees his face, and knows at that moment that any attempt at detachment is gone. She knows she should have expected it, but the blood that runs down his face from the ugly gash on his forehead and the various angry looking cuts that pepper the left side of his face are almost too much for her to bear, especially when combined with the badly swelling eye and a broken nose. She's in absolute shock at the condition of his face, mostly because it's his face. His face that's supposed to never, ever look bruised and broken like that; his face that's always supposed to showcase his sparkling green eyes and his brilliant smile.
It's then that a piece of knowledge that has been burning at the back of her mind comes to the forefront with such an impact that there is no time for her to formulate some sort of rational denial. She loves him. She's in love with him. And she can't fathom not having him around.
The tears that are burning in her eyes threaten to spill as a memory of his usual antics from just that morning assaults her, but she forces them back. She can't stop the pang of regret she has when she thinks of her harsh reply to him.
"Tony," she calls, but it comes out as a hoarse whisper that even she can barely hear. Her hands are on both sides of his face, gently holding his head to keep it from rolling back to the side and into the seat, and she's leaning into the car enough that if he could, he would surely comment. But he doesn't because he can't.
And she finally lets go, letting her heart decide instead of her head. The already battered walls she had so carefully built around her heart finally fall and she allows the tears to cascade down her face freely. She just hopes that she's not too late; that she can finally give him the chance she knows he's been looking for.
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I'll leave what happens next to your imagination…unless you convince me otherwise. Please review :)