Alternate ending to "Traitor" for Dubigail. I take no credit for the plot, it was all her. I just wrote what she inspired.
She's been asking me to shoot Eric for a while.

Callen and Sam were ten minutes out. Nell was panicking with no way to see or hear Eric. Kensi had just blown the locks off the armoury and she and Deeks were hot on the trail of Brown, who was holding Eric hostage.

"Through the boiler room!" Nell yells to Kensi and Deeks. They set off running, not needing to communicate their plan. And when they arrive they see Brown holding a gun on Eric as he leads them out.

Deeks carefully aims, then yells out playfully to Brown.

"Hey there. Did you miss me?" Brown turns to the noise as he pulls a second gun and shoots wildly, missing. Kensi comes from around the corner, pissed that someone had fired at her partner. She holds her gun steady as she steps towards Brown and Eric, while Deeks laughs, saying. "Ha, you sure did!"

"Drop the damn gun. I'm itching for an excuse to shoot you," Kensi tells Brown, but he fails to comply, laughing.

"You won't take another step closer, or I'm going to blow his brains out," Brown states as he gestures to Eric, far too certain of himself. What he didn't expect was for Eric to reach up and grab the gun pointed at his temple.

As Eric grabs the gun and tosses it aside, Kensi charges at Brown, knocking him flat. Deeks barrels up behind her keeping his gun trained at Brown's head. Kensi pins Brown to the ground as she struggles for the second weapon. A shot sounds and Deeks panics, fearing the worst for his partner. He charges towards them when he sees blood on her, but sighs with relief when he realizes it isn't hers. The relief, however, is short lived when Kensi turns to Eric and sees he's been hit. Nell is screaming into the comms, demanding to know what has happened, and Deeks whispers:

"Eric's been hit. He's down."

Nell chokes out a strangled noise, yelling for someone to call an ambulance as she runs down the stairs, trying to get to Eric as fast as she can. Callen and Sam respond that they're still two minutes out, as Hetty states an ambulance is on the way. Calling for an ambulance has always been Eric's job, and it bothers her that he is now the one needing it.

Eric feels a searing pain through his chest, moments before the world goes black. His last thought before blackness hits is "how did Nell make it look so easy when she did that?"

Moments later, Eric comes to and hears chaos around him. He picks out Nell's voice, hearing her tell him to hold on, and that he'll be ok. He wants to reassure her, but his eyes are heavy and his body uncooperative. All he manages is a soft moan and to weakly move his hand. Nell grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly.

"Hold still, Wolfram, the ambulance is coming. You're going to be ok. I'm right here. Just hold on for me, Eric."

Eric wants to nod. Nell is here. He should do what she says. He decides to hold still, and try to hold on to her hand. She wants him to hold on.

He giggles inwardly, realising that Nell is holding his hand. He's wanted this for a long time, and if he'd known it was this easy he would have gotten shot a long time ago. It was worth it, he thought, but as he realized she was upset he thought maybe it wasn't. He didn't like making Nell sad. He needed her to be happy. He loved to see her smile.

Thinking about Nell's smile makes him happy. He thinks of the smile she gave him when she caught him about to burn Hetty's pants, and the way she laughed in horror when he pointed out that a kilt and Hetty's height were a bad mix. She had finally gotten sick of his complaining about his sensitive thighs, and cut the pants down for him. And that wonderful, conspiratorial smile she gave him when they were almost busted, and she told him "Guess we're going shopping, Beale." That was fun.

Suddenly he feels pressure on his arm. He realises it must be a blood pressure cuff. The paramedics are here, that's a good thing. But the pressure on his arm is annoying. It reminds him of those stupid tights he wore one Christmas, as part of the elf costume Nell asked him to wear. She called them leggings, but they were tights, damn it. They had itched and felt like his legs were suffocating. But it was worth it. And he'd do it all again in a heartbeat if only she would kiss him again like she had that night. Where had that mistletoe come from anyway, and why hadn't it reappeared other years? He should make sure there was mistletoe in ops this year. Maybe he could get her to kiss him again, without tights. He thought about that kiss almost every day.

He feels his body shift and sway as he's transferred to the stretcher. It was a strange feeling. He wasn't sure what to make of it. But he didn't hurt so much now, so maybe they had given him something for the pain. He realises there's a mask on his face now and he wonders when that got there. The air in it smells funny and it makes him feel claustrophobic. Maybe he could take it off, he didn't feel so bad. He didn't need it. He tries to lift his hand to pull the mask away but didn't make it far before Nell grabbed it. She was still with him, and he wondered why.

"It's ok, Beale. Just relax and let the paramedics do their thing," he heard her say. He was lucky she was there. She was so smart. He should listen to her. He still didn't know her IQ, but that's just a number. He knew she was smart and didn't need a number to tell him that. She was probably the smartest person he had ever known. But what about Hetty. Hetty was really smart too. He was pretty sure Nell was smarter but what if Hetty could read his mind? She might not be too happy that he thought Nell was smarter. Oh no, if Hetty really can read minds, he is so screwed. He didn't want her to know how much he liked Nell, and if she knew how distracted he was by her at times, she might reassign him. But if she could really read minds, she'd already know that and would have done something about it. So Hetty couldn't read minds and that was a good thing.

When they get to the hospital, he feels them unload him and hears Nell raise her voice as they try to pull her away. He feels bad for whoever is bothering to argue with her, they're going to lose. It's like trying to argue with Hetty. A moment later he hears her triumphantly whisper in his ear that they tried to make her wait outside, but she won. She wasn't going to leave him alone.

His thoughts wandered to when she had to go into the office where they were developing drone technology for China. He couldn't stand to see all the nerds drooling over how hot she was with her gun. OK, she was really, really hot with her gun. But at least he didn't drool. Much. He had gotten there as fast as he could to protect her, but that clearly didn't work out. (Despite her telling the guys he was so good that he didn't even need a gun.) When she got knocked to the floor, he felt sick - but in true Nell form, she bounced right back up and took off after the bad guy. And here he was, taken down by Brown. He wasn't ever going to live this down. Forget the bullet, was it possible to die from mortification? No, probably not. If it was, he would have dropped dead the moment Nell caught him in his watermelon print boxers.

He's jolted out of his thoughts when he hears the doctors saying something about surgery, and feels Nell's hand pull away. Wait, where is he going? Surgery? Is he going to be ok? He doesn't feel like he's dying, but then again he's not sure what dying feels like. Wait, didn't your life flash before your eyes if you were dying? Crap, he was seeing all his favourite moments with Nell. He really didn't want to be dying - it would make Nell sad. The only thing he could be grateful for was that he had told her how he felt - even if it was just written on a sticky note. He hoped she knew that he meant it. He had a lot of regrets, but at least she knew how he felt. Hetty was going to be mad though. She told him to keep his eyes open and his wits about him - he didn't do that so well. If he had, maybe he wouldn't be dying.

Nell was sure her heart was breaking in two as Eric's hand slipped out of hers. He was being rushed into surgery to repair the damage the bullet had done - no one could tell her the expected outcome. And that scared her.

As she sank into a chair, her mind whirled with thoughts of Eric. Today had been a brutal day. She was kicking herself for the tiny trace of doubt that had crossed her mind when she wondered if he could have been the mole. It had been ridiculous - but Hetty's words had shaken her right to the core. But Eric wasn't a mole. He was the furthest thing from it. And yet, for a nanosecond, she had doubted him. She could hear his voice from earlier in the day.

"Nice work, Poison Ivy" - full of admiration, when all she did was wrap a plastic bag around a plant.

She can't believe she slapped him. Yes, he had been near hysterical, and yes, he had admitted that was what he needed. But she had SLAPPED him! Then again, it wasn't like she hadn't hit him before... she remembers punching him jokingly, after the conversation they had about girls punching guys they liked. She hoped that this slap would tell him that she cared enough to snap him out of his panic - and remind him that she trusted him and would never suspect him as the mole.

Her thoughts began to wander and she questioned if Eric really knew how she felt about him. The first time they had met, she admitted in a roundabout way that she did admire him, but avoided confirming it when he asked. And that's how their relationship had been ever since - they danced around it and she teased him mercilessly. Now, for the first time, she worried that maybe he had taken her teasing to heart. Maybe he thought that was how she really felt. And now all she could do was hope she would get a chance to make it right.

She knew how he felt about her. It was evident over and over again. When she had been attacked at the boatshed (interestingly - also by a guy named Brown), she had seen the fear and affection in his eyes as he handed her back her earpiece. When he brushed back her hair, and then told her she was never leaving Ops again. She had known, and he knew she had known, just how much he cared. And even though he wasn't an agent, he felt the need to have her back when she went in the field. He hated to see her hurt, and felt responsible every time.

She thought back to when Kensi was in Afghanistan. Kensi had contacted her, needing help. Eric had seen right through her attempts to hide her concern and insisted on helping her. First he tried to calm her by telling her to think of butterflies. She smiles to herself. Who finds butterflies calming? Butterflies are symbolic of nerves! But in a very Eric way, it had helped. Or maybe it was his hands on her shoulders. And then she had told him her concerns, and he had gone off on a typical tangent about making an emergency file in case something happened to them. She couldn't help but grin again at the thought. It was so Eric - calming, and reassuring. And it had given her the courage to try to go tell Hetty what was going on.

She began to pace, not knowing what else to do while she waits to hear from the surgeon. And her thoughts continue to whirl. Eric, standing in Ops, grinning as he finds a critical piece of information, or perplexed and frustrated as he tries to make sense of things that quite simply don't make any sense. The jealousy that overtook him when she flirted with Ira, or when she went undercover and caught the attention of any male. And she had loved to toy with him and tease him, loving the feeling of getting a rise out of him. And now, all she could feel was regret.

The regret reminded her of Eric's first time undercover. She was the one who suggested it. It had made total sense - he understood the field and they didn't have time to teach someone else. But it had scared the shit out of him and she had pushed him to go. She was pretty sure he had only agreed to impress her. And it had nearly gotten him killed. Or "frelted" as Deeks had said. Even then - she had teased him, using that awful word.

With a sigh, she continues to pace. At this rate, she would wear a track in the floor.

Another memory fills her mind, and gives her hope. She and Eric working together while the world seemingly fell apart around them. The heartache on his face, before he speaks up and says:

"If you don't tell someone how you feel about them, you may never get the chance."

She wholeheartedly agreed, and told him so. Then out came the sticky notes. Something so simple. But Eric decided to seize the day and he wanted to tell her how he felt about her. She had teased him at first, but quickly decided he was right. So she had grabbed the notepad and pen herself to tell him just how she felt as well. Even as she had done so, she couldn't be serious. She knew he was - he would pour out his heart and say how he felt. But she wasn't ready, so instead she had written something suggestive and inappropriate - but she knew he would get the message.

And he had. They agreed not to talk about it but they knew how the other felt. And that gave her comfort, for now.

But after a few minutes, she realizes something. Not talking about it was the dumbest idea they had had. What was the point in telling someone how you felt if you weren't ever going to discuss it again? And now she was angry at herself once again. If Eric was ok - no, WHEN Eric was ok, she corrects herself, they're going to talk about those damn sticky notes. And they're going to act on it. She just has to wait until he's out of surgery.

Her pacing resumes. But she takes a moment to message Kensi, and asks her to bring several things to the hospital. Then continues pacing a track on the floor.

16 hours later

Eric slowly opens his eyes. He's groggy and confused, and has no idea where he is. He realizes he's in a hospital bed, and his chest feels heavy. The way the room is spinning, he's pretty sure he's loaded up on painkillers. But he forces his eyes open and looks around. He sees Nell off to his side - her body draped between a chair and his bed. Her face is puffy and red, it appears she's been crying. But she's now asleep and he smiles at how peaceful she looks despite having obviously been wracked with worry.

He slowly turns his head and takes in the rest of the room when his eyes fall on the small tray table across the bed. A box of Oreos sits on the table, with a yellow sticky note. He can't reach it, but he can just make out the words.

2015Eric+Nell

Why is his password on the sticky note? And what the hell does it mean? He reaches out and tries to grab it. When he finally reaches it, he feels there are several sticky notes in a pile.

The second reads: "You're right. This is our year."

The third: "You know, telling each other how we feel and then not talking about it was pretty stupid."

The fourth takes his breath away. "I love you, Wolfram. And we're going to talk about it."