A/N: Nothing belongs to me. This can be read as slash, but it doesn't need to be.
Tears
He had just given up.
Tony stared at the closed doors right in front of him from where he was sitting on the cold hard floor. Occasionally he could hear them yell. He didn't understand anything but it was enough to know that it wasn't good.
He had just given up.
He leaned back against the wall trying to find something to hold on to. He had no idea how long he had already been sitting there, time seemed to have stopped a while ago. He couldn't tell if it had been ten minutes ever since he had pulled him out of the water or ten hours. He could still see him floating in the ice cold Potomac, though, his eyes staring into nothingness.
He had just given up.
Tony closed his eyes and immediately he felt them. Tears. Burning right behind his eyes. He had never learned to cry properly. Tears had never rolled down his cheeks from wide watery eyes like they did in the movies. He wished they did. Then, he could have done it in front of people and not in dark cinemas, empty bathrooms or in bed. And he could have cried right there and then. But he kept his eyes closed. He couldn't do this here, right in the middle of an overcrowded hospital.
He took a deep breath and then startled out of his thoughts when a loud shout came from behind the doors again.
"Push more epi."
He had seen too many hospital shows not to know what it meant. His heart still wasn't beating. Tony gulped, letting his hand rest upon his own heart. As if by some miracle it was still working. Silently he counted the beats. 1 – 2 – 3. 1 – 2 – 3. 1 – 2 – 3. He was quite obviously still alive. While…
He had just given up.
He felt someone sitting down next to him and intuitively knew it was Tim. He didn't know how he had found out but little did he care.
"You're wet," he heard him say, but it didn't really register.
He couldn't listen to him. He needed to hear whatever was going on behind those doors. Those doors that were blocking his view. Those doors that were blocking his view from him. But did he really want to see? Tony wasn't sure. He had been white and cold and dead.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
He felt his heart pick up pace underneath his hand and heard his breathing fasten. Suddenly air was hard to reach, no matter how hard he was trying to breathe.
"Tony." McGee again. "Tony, you need to breathe."
He felt him put a hand at the back of his head to guide it towards his knees and immediately it was easier to suck in a breath. He sat there for a while, just listening to his own breathing with Tim rubbing up and down his back.
"What happened, Tony?"
For the first time, Tony turned to look at him and realized that Tim looked whiter than ever and his big eyes were full of sorrow.
"He…," Tony started, once more feeling tears well up behind his eyes. "He… wanted to help," he finally found words that would make sense. "There was a kid. She was bleeding and he wanted to help… but she just… she pushed him and he lost his footing. His knee just didn't hold up and then he… and then he just fell."
… and then he just gave up.
"Come on," someone behind the doors said. "Come on."
He turned again, desperately trying to hear more, but the doctors didn't do him the favor. Only silence greeted him for a while.
"But…," Tim started barely above a whisper. "But he can swim."
Tony sucked in a breath as the younger man unknowingly confirmed his suspicion, his mantra, his devastation.
"I know," Tony said, his voice sounding just like he felt. Defeated.
"But…" Tim replied, but trailed off. "Oh."
He felt Tim's hand on his arm, squeezing it softly and then they were there again. The tears that he still refused to let fall.
He had just given up.
He hadn't fought, hadn't tried to swim. He had just gone under like it all didn't matter. Like his whole life just didn't mean anything. Like NCIS didn't mean anything. Like his family didn't mean anything. Like Tony didn't mean anything.
He just hadn't meant anything to him.
"I couldn't stop him," he finally whispered, causing Tim to lean closer ever so slightly. "He just gave up. He just let go. Why, Tim? I was right there. I was there and he just didn't care. I just didn't matter."
"No, Tony," Tim interrupted him, but Tony just shook his head.
"You know it's true. He has given up so long ago. Ever since his girls died. After that, he just kept on living. And here I was stupid enough to believe that maybe he was still here because of me. That maybe I was enough for him. But I'm not. He just gave up."
Pain suddenly gripped his heart so hard that he forgot how to breathe for a moment again. He forcefully took a breath despite it all and tried to ride it out, hoping it would go away again. He knew the wound that caused the pain wouldn't heal. Ever. There were no solutions that made more sense than him just giving up because he couldn't outrun it. Not this time around.
He felt a sob trying to escape his mouth and just when he thought that he could let it out, could let the tears fall, McGee's grip on his arm got stronger.
"No, Tony," he said, his voice firm with determination which in return caused Tony to swallow down the tears again. "You don't get to break down now. This isn't over. Maybe he'll pull through. He loves you, you hear me? You don't get to give up."
Tony turned to look at him again and damnit, he just wanted to punch him for telling lies but somehow it seemed like Tony had lost all his strength in the Potomac, too. So he just nodded as his eyes wandered towards the doors again. He wished he could just feel him, feel that he was still alive or that he was already dead. But there was just nothing and that was even worse.
"One more time," one of the doctors shouted. "Clear."
There was a moment of silence before a shrill sound was to be heard from inside. He felt Tim's grip tighten again as he apparently realized that it was the flat line.
Silence, then again. "Clear."
Shuffling, footsteps, murmurs that Tony couldn't make out. He just hoped that they had yet to pronounce him dead.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
No.
Tony brought his hand to Tim's and gripped it hard. The younger man had been right. He couldn't give up, too. Maybe his hope was enough for the both of them. Maybe, just maybe, his love was enough for them both.
For a moment or two everything seemed to stand still. It was quiet. Deadly quiet. Then someone behind the doors moved again and Tony breathed in. Either way, it would end soon. The not knowing. That would soon be gone.
He wouldn't give up.
Tony didn't know for how long nothing happened. For how long he was squeezing Tim's hand, for how long he kept on staring at those doors, for how long nobody behind them spoke or for how long he kept on holding on to the last thread of hope until somebody spoke again.
"We've got a rhythm."
Tony let his head fall back against the wall.
He felt McGee breathe out, felt his grip loosen and felt his own tension wane.
Maybe he hadn't given up just yet.
And then – they came. The tears.