AN: This chapter is a bit different, but I had a lot of fun writing it. Hope you enjoy reading & reviews are wonderful :))
Visiting hours are a nightmare. Doctors can't check up on their patients without getting a dozen questions from worried relatives. Nurses don't have it easy either – try saying, down the hall, second door on the right, then take the elevator and look for room X, without having a mental breakdown and/or forgetting your own name midday. At least patients are getting their slice of comfort. But when your room gets turned into a flower shop and Aunt Lucile keeps asking if you're okay when you're not okay but you can't say that, then you might become intolerant to visits as well.
"How is she today, Rose?" Gibbs asks, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile, yet it's actually a full-on grin, by his standards. He knows that she is doing better; he spent the night in the hospital, even though he wasn't allowed to. But with little help on the inside –
"Kate is doing better, Agent Gibbs. I see you came for a visit," Rose smiles at him, dimples grazing her cheeks. "She is in room 316, but she might be sleeping. Pain-meds and all –" The nurse needn't say more and Gibbs leads the way to the room, with Tony having to keep up with his fast-pace.
"We're not waking her up, if she's sleeping. Got it, DiNozzo?"
"Sure, boss. Might be better this way," Tony concedes. Last time he saw her, she was pretty angry with him.
The two of them walk in and Tony lets out a sigh of relief – Kate appears to be in deep slumber, her chest rising and falling in even intervals. Sunlight is creeping in and Gibbs draws the curtains closer, anything to keep her resting. Of course, he forgot about the Tony-factor, about his senior field agent who doesn't like to go unnoticed, especially when slippery doorknobs are concerned. BANG. The door closes shut, brown eyes snap open in an instant, a death glare rises on an angry man's face and – oh shit.
"Sorry, boss," Tony murmurs, looking sideways at the former marine, whose face doesn't even flinch, yet two angry fists rest by his sides, gaining momentum –
"Tony!" Kate's excitement is obvious as she pushes herself up to a sitting position. "It's so lovely to see you."
Tony's jaw drops, especially after Gibbs pats his back and whispers an explanation. "Morphine, Tony. Otherwise, she'd be in great pain."
For a moment, DiNozzo is speechless; he looks through squinted eyes from Kate to Gibbs, from Gibbs to Kate, back and forth. Then –
"Wow, look at you, Agent Todd. Katie in the sky –" A head-slap cuts off his little sing-along, despite Kate's protest.
"But I love this song. Jethro, why do you have to be so cranky?" Kate pouts and Tony has to look down, as he is most certainly cracking up. Regardless of the consequences.
"Don't hit him, honey," Kate whispers softly, then suppresses a yawn. "You're so handsome, you know that, grouch-bear? Let me kiss that frown off your face. Come 'ere." Tony snorts, his hand flying up to cover his mouth. And is his boss blushing? Outrageous. DiNozzo is calling it quits if Gibbs calls her pumpkin pie, that's it.
"Fine, you get a free pass, DiNozzo," Gibbs grumbles and Kate smiles sweetly, before closing her eyes.
"You go now, pretty people. I'mma take a nap, k?" she slurs her words in the pillow, quickly drifting off to sleep.
She is a cartoon character – one of the old, 2D ones – skipping across fields of gold, candy-house looming in the distance, following that invisible scent of freshly baked goods –
And she is waking up.
"Abby?" Kate murmurs, still in the haze of sleep.
"Hi, Kate." The Goth has pulled a chair and is sitting by her side, shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Did you bring something, Abs?" Kate looks around, the divine smell of croissant au chocolat still taunting her.
"I did, Kate," Abby sighs, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I made you snickerdoodle cookies," she explains, pointing to a dark, wicker basket, set on the corner table.
"You're not a baker, Abby," Kate giggles, but then meets her friend's gloomy gaze. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sure they're wonderful." She sniffs the air, before adding, "A little burnt perhaps."
"You can't eat them anyway, now, right?" Abby smiles at last. Then swiftly changes the topic. "They have you on painkillers, huh?"
"Mhmmm. So lovely –" Kate all but hums the words, taking Abby's hand in her own. "Lemme take care of the baking from now on, Abs. I'm such a great baker, y'know."
"I know, Kate."
The creak of a door pushed open, hushed voices disrupting the silence. Go in, little one. Tiny feet tracing a path across hospital tiles, fingers tugging at blankets and a 4-yeard old, hoisting herself up onto her mom's bed.
Kate opens one eye lazily, and smiles. "Hi, baby."
Emory scoots closer and lays her head on Kate's shoulder. Kate notices the rag doll she is holding and the change in her appearance. "You cut her hair, Em?" she whispers in dark curls, arm tightening around the little girl's shoulder.
"Yep."
For a while, the room is silent but for the regular drippings into Kate's IV line.
"Mommy?"
"What is it, sweetheart?"
Em shifts a little to look up at Kate. "I don't wanna see my friends anymore," she admits reluctantly, a frown crunching her brow. Kate is perplexed, but her daughter, the adult that she is, reasons, "If I stay home, you don't have to stay here, or go to work –" She sighs, content with her decision, and lets her head drop on Kate's chest. "I can take care of you," Em murmurs, tugging at her hospital gown.
At a loss for words, Kate kisses the top of Emory's head. "You'll take care of me?"
"Mm," tired eyes close shut and Em relaxes in her mother's hold.
"Sounds about right, baby," Kate whispers before drifting off to sleep once again.
"You sure she won't mind, boss?" McGee looks through the blinds into Kate's room and then back at Gibbs, whose irritation has started to show – his right eye is twitching and his nostrils are flaring, Tim is certain.
"Do you need a special invitation, or what, McGee!" It's not a question, and despite his lowered voice, Gibbs seems to be heard across the hall.
"Right, boss. Sorry," he mumbles and walks in, before Gibbs can put an emphasis on his words and grant him a head slap.
Unlike Tony, he takes his time closing the door, quiet as a mouse. He almost drops the flowers he is holding, when Kate's voice calls out to him.
"Was grouch bear rude to you, Tim? I heard y'all talking outside."
McGee turns around, his mouth taking on different shapes, as he tries to form words, but no sound comes out. His forehead wrinkles in concentration and Kate giggles.
"Relax, McGee. Come 'ere now, pull up a chair."
In Gibbs' absence, McGee follows her orders, and sits down, still holding her flowers (obviously having forgotten about them).
"Uh, how are you, Kate?" he asks, straightening up a little and pushing his discomfort away.
She ignores his question, eyes set on the orchids. "You bought me flowers, Tim? That is so sweet. Orchids are my favorite. Are they your favorite, too?"
"Uh – maybe, I don't know."
"You don't know? McGee!" Kate chuckles, before concern crinkles her brow. "You need to put them in water, Tim. Go, get them some water."
Tim knows better than to question her instructions and leaves the room. He even finds himself feeling relieved. He is not used to Kate rambling. At all.
"I see she is taking a nap now. This is certainly good for her and would immensely help her recovery. How many milligrams of morphine are you pushing in? Once, during my residency in Scotland, I had a patient who was in great pain – two gunshot wounds to the abdomen, one to the right leg –"
"Ducky," Kate whispers, eyes still closed, but she is sure he is the one sitting by her bedside.
"Caitlin, you can go back to sleep, my dear. I just wanted to come see you –" At this time, the nurse exits the room, without hearing the rest of Ducky's story. But perhaps he wasn't talking to her at all –
"It's alright," she mumbles, brown eyes blowing wide open, as if to punctuate the point that she is awake, really.
"As I was saying, I was in Edinburgh – marvelous city, by the way. Have you been there, Caitlin? You should definitely go when you get back on your feet. I'm certain that you'll be feeling well in no time. Even Jethro might enjoy the trip. The landscape is remarkable, to tell you the truth, but the weather can give you a bit of trouble – so windy, and there's a lot of rain, as you can guess, my dear –"
"Ducky, you talk a lot, you know that?" Kate tilts her head to the side, obviously not paying attention to what he's saying. "You start here," Kate points to an invisible point in the air, "—and then you jump over there and –" She sighs. "I get confused, Ducky."
The doctor looks startled, but quickly snaps out of it.
"You're right, Caitlin. Do accept my apologies. How are you feeling?"
"Mmm alright."
"I'm glad to hear that, my dear. Laparotomy was evidently the right approach in your case. Of course, if Dr. Jones had chosen to perform a laparoscopy, the surgery would have been less invasive, yet this would have limited —"
When visiting hours are over, silence engulfs hospital hallways. Only those with special privileges – doctors, nurses, NCIS team leaders – get to sneak into rooms, where darkness, too, has started to fall. Where morphine is wearing off and the doctor is due to come back in the next hour or so, to hopefully prescribe another dose of analgesics. That's a long time when you're in pain.
"I want to go home, Gibbs," a woman whispers, facing away from her husband, who slips off his shoes and lies down next to her, the only comfort he can offer.