A/N: Shorter than the last, but I'm just putting out whatever comes into my head.
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.
Part 3: Touch
She can't stop touching him right now.
Her hands have mapped his skin dozens of times in the last few months. Usually she is admiring the texture, the taste, the smell. Usually she is eliciting gasps and moans and sighs. Usually, touching his skin leads to ecstasy and satisfaction.
But now…
Her touch is chaste but she considers it to be the most important she's ever given him. As she sits beside his still body and holds his too-cool hand, her deeply buried romantic imagination sees herself grounding him. She is holding on to his soul so that it won't leave him like she knows it wants to. She is holding on because she desperately wants to keep him with her.
She can feel Gibbs hovering a few feet behind her. Hours ago he took her into a small, hidden place and nudged her just enough to tip her off balance and make her break. She indulged in the feeling of oblivion until she realized that dragging it out would only prevent her from ever finding her way back. A nod acknowledged his kindness before her eyes begged him not to do it again. She knows he understands her needs, even if they are at odds with his.
She knows he itches to reach out to her again. Not to comfort her, but to console himself. But as much as she loves her father figure, she cannot indulge his needs right now and repay his act of kindness. In fact, she finds herself hoping that Abby's theory of his powers of telepathy is sound, and launches into an internal monologue with foolish hope.
Don't touch me, Gibbs. If you touch me I will fall apart. And if I fall apart I will give up. I cannot give up. I cannot leave him to his death. Never screw over your partner. Never leave a man behind. I have to see this through. I have to keep it together. If I don't, I will stop breathing. And what if I stop breathing and then he doesn't? If I stop breathing when he's not there to try to convince me otherwise, he will be so mad. And he will blame himself. He is good at blaming himself. So if you don't want my death on Tony's conscience, don't touch me.
Gibbs holds his ground. Tony doesn't stir. And he calls her stubborn?
Despite her audience she lets her fingertips graze over the inside of his wrist. In the normal world, the one in which he smiles and moves and reacts to stimulus, it is a tickle that usually makes him jump and snatch his hand away with a laugh. Tonight he is stone encased in carbon and surrounded by steel. Her touch cannot reach him.
Her scattered, panicked and desperate thoughts suggest that since telepathy worked on Gibbs it might also work on Tony. She considers the idea no sillier than simply holding his half-dead hand to guide him back to consciousness.
Please touch me back. Remember when you told me you'd wanted to touch me for so long? Touch me now. Touch me anytime. You can feel me up in the bullpen whenever you want if you just make the effort to touch me now. I promise I won't be mad at you for saving my life. I won't yell. I won't glare. You were so mad when I tried to save you and I know we screamed ourselves sick. I never want to do that again. Even though I am furious with you for putting yourself in this position to protect me, I promise I won't scream and I won't throw it back at you. So if you are just trying to avoid another fight with this stupid not-waking-up act, stop it. Come back. I will even let you win and say "I love you" first if you do. Please just touch me.
He continues to ignore her, and tears burn the back of her eyes as an irrational sense of failure falls over her. She's not enough for him. She's not incentive enough to draw him back to his life. It seems that wherever he is, he's quite happy to stay there without her.
She can't stop touching him right now.
Because she is beginning to believe that this will be the last time she will have the chance.
Just another reminder not to freak out, m'kay?