A/N: New story time! I'm finally getting some extra time for writing so I'll be finishing up some stories and starting new ones in different fandoms. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me except for Jasmine.

Chapter One: Family

The beeping of the machines that monitored his bodily rhythms was steady, assuring me that he was still alive. The room was quiet, except for the monitors and the sound of my own breathing. Earlier it had been alive with activity, lots of visitors coming and going and wishing him good health. I had been sure that I'd be fine alone, and eventually insisted that they all leave. Now I was sure it was a mistake. Being alone with my thoughts was depressing for me.

I thought about calling someone, but didn't want to disturb them. They needed their sleep in order to function at work tomorrow, and in any case, it wasn't really their company I was craving at the moment.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I called Callen. Callen was like an older brother to me, practically raised by my dad in many ways. They saved each other's lives in war, and ever since then, they'd kept in close touch.

"Jaz," he breathed, "how is he?"

I shook my head, though I knew he couldn't see it. "Not good, Cal. They say they're not sure if he's going to wake up this time. And I'm trying to be strong for everyone, but it's so, so hard." I sobbed, not able to hold it together anymore. The hard wooden hospital chair was making my back ache and my sore knee hurt from being bent in the same position for so long.

"I know, Jaz. I'll be there soon. I'm in the taxi now, and Hetty gave me as much time as I need off, so I'll be there with you all the way, okay, baby?" Callen asked.

I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand. "Yeah, yeah, that's fine. Thank you so much for coming, Callen. I just can't worry the rest of the team with such a heavy case resting on their shoulders…"

Callen sighed, "I know. But they will find him, I'm sure of it. And I will help in any way possible, and I know my team will be there for us if we need them."

I leaned as far back as possible in the uncomfortable chair. "I love you, G. I'm sorry I made you come out to D.C. I just need you."

"I love you too, baby. Don't be sorry, though. There's no reason for it. I would have come out anyway, even if you hadn't asked, because your dad is as much yours as he is mine." I could just imagine him winking at that, and it made me smile a little.

"Do you know how far out you are?" I asked impatiently. I couldn't wait for him to arrive.

"About fifteen minutes," he assured me. "I'll be there soon, I promise. I've got to go, but if you need me, call, okay?"

"Sure," I said shakily. "I can last fifteen minutes without you." I laughed, but it got stuck in my throat and sounded more like a choked sob.

After I hung up with Callen, I looked at my father. I started with his hair, memorizing every inch of his face and his features.

His silver hair was short on the sides and longer on top. Still as close to regulation as could be. I actually smiled ruefully at the sight of his silver hair. His hair had begun growing silver after we had lost Mama and Kelly in the accident and he was faced with raising a six month old on his own. The lines in his face had been there since their deaths. His blue eyes, which I couldn't see at the moment, could be the most expressive feature of his or it could be the least, depending on whether you were his friend or his enemy. His blue eyes were one of the most prominent features that we shared.

My eyes roamed over his broken, motionless form. His injuries included: head trauma, broken left arm, both from the fall, and broken ribs, severe internal bleeding due to the six bullet wounds he had suffered. The doctors said that he was in a coma in order to allow him to heal internally.

I let out a shaky breath and scooted the wooden chair closer to the bed. The nurses had informed me that if I wanted to, I could talk to him and he may be able to hear me.

"Daddy?" The word came out sounding like a question. A tear escaped my eye and I brushed it away. "Daddy, Callen's on his way- he should be here any moment. But I am so scared right now. I don't know if I could handle losing you. Not this way, especially not after what happened to Mama and Kelly." I stood from my chair and reached over him to hold his uninjured right hand. I held it tightly, almost afraid to let it go.

"Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me." I whispered repeatedly as silent tears glided down my face. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, mainly in awe over how my father, my strong, indestructible, forty-eight year old father could possibly die.

At that moment, I heard the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching the room.

I instantly let go of my dad's hand, instead tensing and reaching for something I could use as a weapon. My father's attacker hadn't been found, and I wasn't about to take any chances with my father's life. My hand tightened around my purse. I sighed in disappointment that I couldn't find something that would be more practical to use as a weapon, but it would have to do.

I crouched down below my father's hospital bed, cursing myself for not being more alert to the sound so that I could have planned a better escape route if the need arose. Suddenly, one of my father's lessons came to mind: "Never allow yourself to become trapped, especially in tight corners. If you get backed into a corner, you'll have to fight your way out, and it's more than likely you will not have the upper hand, especially if the attacker has a firearm. Always be aware of your surroundings, and be near an exit."

The footsteps were in the doorway when I heard a familiar voice call my name. I leapt up from my crouching position on the floor and made a beeline for the person who stood in the doorway.

"Jasmine, I'm here. I'm here, baby." Callen said soothingly as I embraced him tightly and he stroked my vivid red-orange hair that I had gotten from my mother.

I clung to him, feeling overwhelmingly happy that he was here with me and that I wasn't alone anymore.

"I've missed you so much, Cal. I've been so scared…" I admitted, tears welling in my eyes.

He pulled away when he heard my watery tone and felt the tears on his shirt. "Hey, hey, hey, don't cry. Everything will be okay, I promise you. Dad will get better."

I gave him a watery smile when he referred to my dad as his too. I pulled out of his embrace and he tucked me into his side.

"Sit down." I commanded, pointing at the uncomfortable chair.

Callen shook his head. "You should. How long has it been since you've slept or eaten? You look exhausted."

I looked at him, feeling too tired to argue. "I've only been up since I got the call from Tony at about midnight. I ate some fast food that McGee brought me when the team was here earlier."

He glanced at his watch. "Jaz, that was over twenty-two hours ago. You need to get some rest."

"Callen, I'm fine. Please, sit down."

G watched me for a moment and then sat down. He tapped his thigh. "Come on, Jaz. Sit down."

I simply gave him a dubious look. "I'm too heavy."

My brother rolled his eyes. "You weigh one hundred and twelve pounds, and you're only five foot three. You are not too heavy. Sit, Jaz."

"Fine, Cal." I gave up and sat down on his leg. He grabbed my waist and maneuvered me into a more comfortable position for him.

"Now explain to me again how this happened."

I rubbed my eyes tiredly and took a deep breath. G's hand settled on my back, rubbing it gently.

"Daddy was working on a case involving six dead Naval officers. He believed it was a group of people working together to commit these grisly murders." I shivered. "Anyway, he and the team were working a late night last night in order to come up with some more possible suspects. Tony told me that someone called my father and that he hung up and told them to get their gear. They went to a playground where my father said that someone had told him the killer would be. He didn't give the team any names, and Tony wasn't sure why he seemed so certain this 'someone' was telling the truth.

"Tony said that they were there for about ten minutes, canvassing and observing the area, when suddenly about ten shots were fired one right after another." I began to cry again, unable to rein in my emotions. "Six of the bullets lodged in his chest, and when he fell he broke his left arm, some ribs, and suffered from head trauma from hitting his head on the asphalt. The doctors say this medical coma is to help his internal injuries heal."

Callen sighed, looking at my father. "Sounds similar to what happened to me."

I looked at Callen, really looked at his expression, and then down to his chest, where he had gotten shot not long ago. Callen appeared to be miles away. His gaze was on my father, but he wasn't really seeing him.

I touched his chest carefully. "Does this hurt?"

G snapped out of the trance he was in and looked down at his chest. He grabbed my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "No, not any more. The memory hurts more than the actual wounds did."

Tears began to blur my vision again, but this time, they were for Callen, and his ordeal. I'd been there throughout his recovery from that, and as broken as that close call left me, I'd at least had my dad with me every step of the way. This time, I didn't have him. I had Callen though, and he was as important to me as my dad was.

I rested my head on his shoulder and whispered, "I love you."

He laid his head on mine gently and stroked my hair. "I love you too. I'm going to be here for you and Dad every step of the way."