A/N I know, I know depressing rewrite, huh? Now Because I'm mean I kept you waiting for this chapter. Heh. Heh. I was going to write this right after the rewrite. buuuuuuut I got really tired and went to bed. Disclaimer: Do I look like a middle aged Australian guy? Then I'm probably not Shane Brennan. But not for long… ! Its all part of my plan for ultimate world domination! I mean, uh, enjoy the story…. And keep the tissue in hand this one is also rated EW for severe emotional wreckage AND BH for extensive boohooing. Oh, and can anyone catch the Bones reference?
Nell's P.O.V
The chair was lumpy, the air was cold and smelled of antiseptic. It was nauseating. I chose to focus on that. I tried to keep myself from thinking about the circumstances that brought me into a waiting room. We were all there. Hetty. Sam. Callen. Deeks. Kensi. No one wanted to see him gone. It was my fault. If I had coached them just a little bit faster. If only…
"Eric Beale's next of kin?" A young, brunette nurse asked. We all stood up. We hadn't called his parents, and anyway, they lived in Minnesota.
"Is he okay?" I asked.
"Well he is in surgery, The bullet just hit his lower ventricle, the close range of the shooting increases the impact of the bullet."
I stopped paying attention to her. She wasn't going to answer my question. She really couldn't. All she could say was that the doctors had put him in a medically induced coma for the surgery. She left quickly and Hetty made an attempt to rally her troops.
"I think Mr. Beale will be okay. I don't think he'd want to sit around here waiting for him to be out of surgery. Take the weekend. Rest. I'll expect you at work on Monday... We've got to find the bastard who did this" For the first time that night I realized we only had Ursula and Flotsam accounted for. I slumped in the lumpy hospital chair. Slowly all my colleagues left. Soon I was alone, lost, and breaking inside. I went home a few hours later, when they kicked me out of the hospital. I cried myself to sleep for the first time in fifteen years that night.
Next Morning...
I woke up to the sun blinding me. I sat up trying to remember why my pillow was damp. I blinked three times before it all came back to me and my heart broke again. I had to get back to the hospital. I had to know if he survived the night. I hadn't changed my clothes since the night before, so I skipped that as well as breakfast. Food just didn't seem to matter. I was about to leave when a memory from months ago popped into my brain.
I WAS STANDING IN OPS, SNEAKING AN OREO AS ERIC WATCHED, HORRIFIED. WE
WEREN'T REALLY WORKING. JUST GOOFING OFF, WAITING FOR A CASE TO WANDER
IN. I PRESSED A COOKIE INTO HIS HAND AND HE IMMEDIATELY SHOVED IT IN
HIS MOUTH. AFTER EATING AS QUICKLY AS HE COULD HE SPOKE.
"IF HETTY FINDS OUT ABOUT THIS I WANT YOU TO CALL MY PARENTS IN
MINNESOTA" HE SCRIBBLED THE NUMBER DOWN ON A PEICE OF SCRATCH PAPER AND
SHOVED IT IN MY HANDS.
I hadn't called his parents, like I said I would. I swallowed and ran back to my bedroom. Opening my closet hadn't been this hard in ages. I riffled around in the back before my fingers felt the box. The box where I kept every little scrap of paper I wanted to remember. Ticket stubs, phone numbers, post cards, fortune cookie fortunes, tootsie roll
pop wrappers with the Indian shooting the star, book marks, poems, etc. I set it on the bed and looked for the Oreo- scented sticky note he'd written on. When I finally found it a half an hour had gone by. I pulled out my phone and dialed. Listening to the phone ring, I tried to compose what I'd say. A woman with a thick Minnesota accent tinged with German answered the phone.
"Hello?" Mrs. Beale asked.
"Mrs. Beale? This is Nell Jones, from NCIS" I introduced myself slowly, so I didn't say the wrong thing.
"Has something happened? Is Eric all right?" She asked, panic in her voice. I took a deep breathe to keep my voice from shaking.
"Eric was kidnapped, a-and shot. He's in and out of surgeries. I- I don't know if he'll make it" So much for not stuttering. Mrs. Beale began to sob. I listened to her sob for twenty minutes. It was the worst thing I've ever experienced. I wanted to tell her Eric was okay. I wanted to tell her he was out of surgery for good and talking, but I couldn't. He wasn't. More tears found their way out of my eyes. I felt hollow and useless. There was nothing I could do. I told Mrs. Beale I was going to the hospital and cell phones were frowned upon. As I hung I wondered how long before she'd book a flight.
I didn't think it was safe to drive in such a dazed state, so I walked. It wasn't to far, and the fresh air cleared my head. I focused on the sound of my shoes on the cement, on the breeze blowing my hair gently, on anything trivial to take my mind off everything. When I arrived at the hospital I was surprisingly calm. I was immediately greeted by a doctor who said he had done surgery on Eric.
"I'm Eric's… friend, Nell Jones." I introduced.
"Have you contacted Mr. Beale's next of kin?" the doctor asked, and my stomach fell. That can't be good.
"Yes. His parents in Minnesota. Why?" I tried to steady my voice, but it was blatantly shaky.
"I'm afraid he had a bad reaction to the anesthetic. He isn't waking up from the coma we induced… He may not." With those words I felt whatever was left of my heart dissolve and burn, as though his words were acid.
I picked up my phone and dialed the Beales again. It was going to be a long, painful day.
The Beales flew in a week later. I spent most of the following days at Eric's side, praying that he would wake up. I shed more tears than in my entire life. When three weeks passed and he still didn't wake, the Beales decided to pull the plug. He was really going to die. The worst part was the day before they were going to do it. Callen and Sam appeared in the hospital.
"We're.. uh… planning a memorial service for Eric. We thought you'd like to be a part of it…" I didn't let Callen finish before I screamed at him angrily.
"HE'S NOT DEAD YET!" I ran out of the room hurriedly. I ran all the way to OSP and slid down next to the monitor, tears rolling off my cheeks. I remembered all the good times I had with Eric. Sneaking Oreos when Hetty was gone, talking about dreams, finishing each other's sentences, saving the team time and again, that ridiculous whistle and those bizarre cargo shorts. I laughed through my tears. He was really gone. I stayed there all night. I didn't sleep, but I couldn't leave.
The next morning I went to say good- bye. If I wasn't going to see him ever again, some things needed to be cleared up. As I entered the hospital room a nurse left, a sad air about her. A faint beam of sunlight filtered through the window, and I sat by his side. I grabbed his limp hand and held it tight.
"You're dying Eric. They're pulling the life support. So I have a confession to make. I love you. Its more that that though…" I sighed trying to put what I was feeling into words. A foggy memory of my past surfaced, and I spoke softly. "Before she was killed my mother told me something. She said, 'Nell, you will meet and love a lot of people in this world, but there will be one person you will love the most. Hold that person tight and never let go.' You're that person, Eric. I will never forget you." I stared at his closed eyes, feeling the endless supply of tears form in my eyes again. And then it happened.
Eric blinked.
A/N: So what'd you think? Sad enough for you? I'm glad its finally here. BTW, since no one has told me why it was warehouse 211, I will share. The first episode Nell was in was Season 2 Episode 11!