As they put me into the back of the ambulance, one of the older gentlemen pulls the young man aside. 'Apologize to her, and make sure you don't screw up again.' Says the older man, his finger in the young ones face. The older man wals around the ambulance and climbs into the drivers seat as the young one climbs in back and shuts the doors. The other paramedic looks at him with digust on her face as she gets an IV with pain killers ready for me.

'I don't need the pain killers.' I tell her stubbornly.

'You will need them. The ride may get bumby.' She says as she reaches for my hand. I pull it away from her.

'No pain killers. This isn't the first time I have been shot. I know what it feels like.'

'Fine, whatever.' She leans forward through the opening to the front seat. 'She is refusing pain killers.'

'I thought she might. Just put it in the paperwork. You did the same thing last time Special Agent McGee.'

'Yeah, I know I did. Just hurry up okay. You know I hate being strapped to this thing.'

'Do I ever. We will be there in five.' The female paramedic climbs up and sits in the front seat with the older man.

The younger paramedic and I are left alone in the back ad he tries to avoid eye contact. 'Your first call like this isn't it.' I ask him. The weakness and pain clearly visible in my voice startles him.

'Yeah, it is. How did you know?' He says, surprised at my knowledge.

'I can see it in your face. It is okay you know. You learn from every mistake. Just be thankful I was the one your hands slipped with. Most other people would be talking about sueing you right about now.' I say, a small grin on my face. I grimmace as we hit a pot hole.

'Are you sure you don't want pain killers? I can administer them.' He says, trying to redeam himself.

'No, I am fine. Just do me a favor. Learn from this. If you can do that then you are going to be one hell of a paramedic.' I smile at him and the ambulance screeches to a stop and the doors fly open. The ER doctors are pulling the gurny out. As he stands to help his facial expression changes and he looks determined to do right. Faces blur past me as they rush me into an operating room. They throw question after question at me trying to see how much damage has been done. They place a breathing mask on my face and I slip slowly into darkness.

There is a heavy weight on my legs as I slowly wake up. My chest is tight and I can feel a breathing tube in my throat. I am sitting up just enough to see that the weight on my legs is McGee, asleep. Gibbs is sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, starring out the only window.

I gently lift my hand and place it on McGee's, squeezing gently. He wakes with a start. 'God, Gracie. You scarred the crap out of us.' Gibbs is up and out of the room, getting a nurse. She comes in with a doctor following just behind her.

'Well, Agent McGee. You gave us all quite a scare.' He says as he picks up my chart and checks my vital signs. 'Now, we are going to get this tube out of your throat but if you have difficulty breathing, we are going to have to put it back in. Do you understand?' I nod my head yes. 'Take a deep breath for me okay.'

As I inhale, the doctor pulls the tube out and I gag. I choke once the tube is out of my throat from the dryness. 'Nurse, can you bring the young woman a cup of ice chips please?"

'Yes doctor.' The nurse leave the room and the doctor pulls up a chair. 'It is gong to be a while before you can talk but you can write what ever you need to on this pad of paper. Is there anything you want to know or that you need?'

I take the note pad and pen he offers me and I start writting. I hand him the pad of paper with three questions on it.

'Okay,' he says, 'to answer your first question. We put you under to repair the torn blood vessels that the bullet hit. You stopped breathing twice during the operation and coud not breath on your own afterwards. Secondly, you have been in a state of coma for seventeen days. And finally, I don't put you back at work for at least six to eight months, and that is if everything goes perfectly.'

I reach for the pad and write a short sentence on it. I hand it back to him and he laughs. 'Yes, you did recover in a much shorter period of time last time we went through this, but there were no complicatios the last time, remember?'

TO BE CONTINUED...