-1Okay, chapter four. I had to get dramatic; I apologize, it's a curse. But I hope everyone likes it. And please review. I'll be happy with just a plain, 'read it, liked it, continue please'. Because this site has no hit counters, reviews are the only way I can tell how many people are reading my stories, and if no one's really reading one, I feel more inclined to drop it and concentrate on ones people do read. So, if you read it and liked it, please give me a word or two to let me know!

Chapter Four

The rest of the team had all had their five minutes. Ducky had sat down on the side of the bed opposite Gibbs, taken her hand carefully, and talked to her the whole time in true Ducky fashion, telling her stories and rambling on as if it were completely normal - Gibbs had honestly been grateful for that; it was oddly comforting for him, if not for Abby. McGee, on the contrary had sat in silence the whole time, and Tony had said little more than his initial 'Hey, Abbs,' and a couple half-attempts at teasing, each likely ending with the thought that she wouldn't hear him anyways and couldn't laugh and tease him back even if she did.

No one had tried to get Gibbs to leave, and even the doctor - Doctor Nicholas Richards, his name was - hadn't bothered him about it when he came in to check on her. He probably figured that with her condition, it wouldn't make much difference if he was there or not - it wasn't like she needed to rest, after all. He hadn't said much, either, except to alert Gibbs that the test results on Ziva's blood would be back in a few hours. He hadn't said how Abby was doing, and Gibbs hadn't asked - from what he could tell, nothing had changed, and if she was fading, he didn't want to know.

He'd spent the last couple of hours sitting beside her, sometimes silent; sometimes talking to her; always touching her, scared to let go lest she slip away when he wasn't watching. He'd stroked her forehead, her hand, her hair, knowing she was a contact-oriented person and wanting her to know he was there. If she couldn't hear him, maybe she could feel him. He'd give anything to be able to scoop her up in his arms and hug her, but she looked so fragile lying there, he was almost scared of hurting her; every touch was gentle, cautious.

But now he was facing having to leave her side, if only for a moment - he was feeling very drowsy and didn't want to risk dozing off, so he needed coffee. And, to be fully honest, he needed to make another trip to the restroom. He gave her hand a light squeeze before laying it carefully back by her side, promising, "I'll be right back, Abbs." He hesitantly stood and left the room, looking over his shoulder at her the whole way.

He wasn't gone too long, really; he knew right where the bathroom was, so finding it was no problem. The cafeteria took a bit longer, and then he had to order the coffee, which was certainly not the best coffee he'd ever had but would do the trick to keep him awake. All together, it had been maybe thirty, thirty-five minutes when he made his way back to ICU and headed for her room, but something in the back of his mind kept urging him to walk faster, to get back to her as soon as possible.

He knew something was wrong the second he entered her room. The beeping of the heart monitor wasn't slow anymore, or anything resembling even; it was fast and erratic, and he felt his heart speed up to match it as he realized what that meant. He stood frozen for a second before springing into motion, pushing the door back open to yell out into the hallway for a doctor, then rushing to Abby's side, grabbing her hand, shouting her name, but too late. The erratic beeping faded off into a steady, high-pitched whine, and Gibbs felt his world screech to a halt.

But it only froze for a second before the room burst into motion, a violent whirlwind of activity. Doctors and nurses rushed into the room, and Gibbs felt himself being half-pushed, half-led away from her bed. No one was sterile; he assumed it didn't matter anymore. Her bed was surrounded, the covers hit the floor.

"No pulse!" someone yelled, followed by another voice announcing, "I can't get a blood pressure!" Gibbs felt himself trembling; over all the urgency and noise sounded the persistent whine of the heart monitor.

"Get the cart!" Gibbs recognized Doctor Richard's voice. The machine beside him was yanked into motion; shoved over to Abby's bed. Doctors attached electrodes to her bare skin. Gibbs didn't want to watch, but he couldn't drag his eyes away. She shouldn't be there, that shouldn't be her, it was his fault, he shouldn't have left, he should have run faster to get to her lab, he shouldn't have let Jen keep Chip in there in the first place. A voice yelled, "Clear!" and everyone backed away from the bed and the cart; Abby's body twitched as electricity surged through it.

"No response! Let's hit her again." Gibbs was clenching his fists so hard it hurt, he was cold and numb, his eyes burned like fire and he didn't care. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears, mixing with the ever-louder whine of the heart monitor until he thought his eardrums would explode. "Clear!" was barked out again, the machine zapped and crackled, the body jerked on the bed one more time. The whine was broken as the monitor sent out a weak, wavering blip. Gibbs felt his breath catch in his throat.

"Abby! Can you hear me?" Doctor Richards was bending over the bed, his mouth by her ear. She didn't respond to his voice, or to the sharp clap of his hands. He turned to Gibbs and commanded, "Call her. Keep calling her name."

He didn't know how he got from his position against the wall to the side of her bed; all he knew was that he was kneeling beside her, shouting her name into her ear over and over again, frantic. "Abby! Listen to me! Come back, Abbs! Please come back!" Where was she? Could she even hear him? "You can't leave, Abby. Do you hear me? You cannot leave!"

A doctor shouted, "We've got a heart beat!" The green line staggered on the monitor, rising and falling in uneven peaks.

"I've got a pulse and a blood pressure," a nurse announced. Sighs could be heard all over the room. "That was close."

"Too close," Doctor Richards muttered, looking over at Gibbs. He was sweating, his knuckles were white from grasping the sides of her bed, and a few drops of moisture on his face were not sweat but almost certainly tears. He sagged with relief, falling back into the chair beside the bed and taking hold of Abby's hand again, panting slightly, trying to catch his breath. "We've got to do the transfusion."

"The test results aren't back, though," a nurse protested. "If the types don't match well enough, a transfusion could kill her."

"She'll die anyways if we don't." There was little emotion in his voice, just fact.

The nurse looked uncertain; she helped with the tests, and she tended to be cautious - if something went wrong, it would be her fault for not doing thorough testing. "Just give us one more hour and we'll have the results." It sounded so much like what Abby always said that Gibbs glanced up, looking at Richards for his reaction. He shook his head.

"She doesn't have an hour." They'd barely gotten her back; the next time, he knew they wouldn't. "Go get Ms. David, bring her in here. If we don't do this now, we'll lose her. We don't have any more time to wait."

Giving in, the nurse nodded and left the room, followed by most of the other doctors and nurses who had rushed in. Doctor Richards remained, along with a nurse who was still working with the crash cart, hooking up another IV to Abby's arm.

Gibbs turned his attention back to Abby, sighing heavily. "God, Abbs," he whispered. "Hang in there, just a bit longer. Don't scare me like that again." He gently stroked her forehead, brushing her bangs back, moving a few stray strands of hair out of her face. After that close call… this had to save her. It just had to. "Please, Abby, hang on."