"Jethro, I am hit."

In a heartbeat, Gibbs was on his knees beside Ziva. She moved slowly onto her own knees from the crouched position into which she'd dropped and sat back on her ankles. Her left hand stayed braced against the floor, while her other arm came to rest at a right angle against her body.

"Where?" he asked urgently, running his hands over her before she could even speak, trying to find where the bullet had entered her body. It took every ounce of will he had to keep his panic at bay.

"Back. Right. Shoulder blade," she managed, fighting to breathe through the pain.

"McGee!"

"Already on it, Boss," the younger man assured him from nearby, tilting his cell away from his mouth to update Gibbs. His voice was calm, but on the inside he was anything but. "Ducky's on his way up and I'm calling for a second bus for the suspect right now. First responders are on their way; I told them we have an agent down."

It wasn't easy, but Tim kept a tight lid on his own emotions as he took care of the details he knew Gibbs needed him to handle.

Jethro turned Ziva gently. "Let me see," he husked.

When he couldn't shove her shirt up high enough, he grabbed the neckline in the back with both hands and ripped it. There was an unnatural bulge right where she said it would be, with the bullet appearing to be just under the skin. A thin trail of blood was running down her back.

Ducky, Tony and Palmer came racing up.

"What the hell happened?" Tony barked, his gaze taking in the whole scene in a quick glance, coming to rest on Gibbs and Ziva.

"Suspect got hold of a gun," Tim answered him in a low voice. "She put a bullet in his shoulder when he wouldn't stand down and ended up with one in her back."

DiNozzo crouched down at the side of his partner's desk. "Ziva –"

"I … am … fine, Tony," she forced out reflexively, even as she grimaced in pain.

"I'll be the judge of that, my dear," Ducky asserted warmly, kneeling beside her next to Gibbs. His voice became even softer as he laid a reassuring hand on his oldest friend's shoulder when Gibbs didn't move. "Let me take a look at her, Jethro."

Gibbs had slid her bra strap just over her shoulder out of the way and had placed his hand gently over the wound, attempting to staunch the flow of blood without pressing on the bullet. He seemed frozen to the spot, unable to react to Ducky's request.

"Jethro," Ducky nudged sympathetically.

But it was the brown eyes filled with fear and anguish that turned to meet his that broke him from his trance. Ziva's emotions were starting to get the best of her and she needed him.

"Jethro," she begged in a voice thick with her unshed tears, beseeching him to make everything all right.

Immediately, he gathered her into his arms, sitting on the floor and pulling her carefully across his lap so that Ducky had a clear view of her back.

Ziva's left side was pressed to his chest. Gibbs wrapped his right arm around her waist and cradled her face into his neck with his other hand. He pressed his lips to her forehead as she gripped the front of his shirt until her knuckles were stark white.

"The baby," she whispered in a voice that she clearly had to force past the lump in her throat.

"I know," he murmured, still not lifting his lips from her skin. "I know."

A sob caught in Ziva's chest and Gibbs closed his own eyes tightly against the moisture that threatened. He held onto her even more tightly.

"Ziva," Ducky said kindly as he checked her wound carefully. "The bullet is nowhere near the baby and looks to be just under the skin. I know it is difficult, but the best thing you can do for your child right now is to stay as calm as possible."

Ziva nodded slightly in response as her tears spilled over to run silently down her cheeks.

Just then, the medics arrived. Ducky immediately moved out of the way and gave them a brief run down, including the fact that she was nine weeks pregnant. One of the emergency technicians opened their gear to get the supplies they needed, while the other tried to shift her off Gibbs' lap. The icy look from his blue eyes could have frozen sand.

"Sir," the medic said. "We need to look her over, get the bleeding stopped –"

Ziva gasped as visions of a very different kind of bleeding altogether broke past the wall of control she was attempting to use to keep her worst fears at bay.

"You can damn well do that like this," Jethro informed the young man in a voice that brooked no argument.

The paramedic opened his mouth to disagree, but he was interrupted.

"Do as he says," a voice of authority commanded.

Gibbs looked up to find Vance nearby, his gaze steady … somehow steadying.

The technician shook his head in disbelief, then set about placing a bandage with light pressure over the wound as his partner quickly took Ziva's vital signs. Neither Ziva nor Gibbs released their grip on each other one iota during the process.

The second ambulance team arrived and began treating the suspect, who was still being pinned to the ground by Agent Millin and Officer Martinez. With the addition of a new audience, the man started hollering about his mistreatment and innocence. Tony, Tim and Vance all whipped their heads in that direction.

"Shut him up," Tony ordered the medics, "or I'll shut him up for you." He took a threatening step forward, itching for the opportunity to beat the guy senseless.

Vance caught the eye of the senior med tech and then looked meaningfully at the medical supplies. The guy had enough wisdom and experience to realize it was in everyone's best interest to quiet and immobilize the suspect as quickly as possible.

"Giving you something for the pain, buddy," the medic lied as he drew some medication into a syringe. Well, technically, there was truth in what he said; the man wouldn't be feeling any pain while he was unconscious.

Blessed silence reigned as the sedative worked quickly – until Agent Reynolds started moaning and groaning about his broken nose, acting every inch the injured party.

Vance laid a hand on Tony's shoulder as the very special senior agent cursed under his breath and stepped menacingly in Reynolds' direction.

"Knock it off, Agent Reynolds," Vance commanded. "That's an order."

He'd already assigned a different team of agents to travel in the ambulance with the suspect. Reynolds needed checked out as well, but it wasn't serious enough for a third squad to be called.

Sergeant Robinson had arrived on the scene and was asked by the director if he could spare Officer Martinez to drive Reynolds to the hospital. The two men agreed with speaking glance that the officer could be trusted to keep Reynolds in line. At six feet three inches tall and on the plus side of two hundred seventy pounds, the sheer size and confidence of Martinez could intimidate anyone, even an idiot like Reynolds.

"Go ahead and get him out of here now," Leon advised the younger security guard, his eyes moving dismissively from the agent still sitting on the floor squeezing his bleeding nose.

Martinez was only too happy to oblige, roughly hauling the agent to his feet.

"Hey!" Reynolds protested.

"Shut up, asshole," Martinez muttered darkly, looking the agent straight in the eye. There wasn't a guard in the building with an ounce of respect for this guy – and without admiration and a genuine liking for Ziva.

Hearing his own words tossed back at him was not lost on the agent. Thankfully, it stunned him into silence and Martinez marched him off, taking the stairs.

Simmons had been placed on a stretcher which had been moved off to the side to allow the other medical team to use the elevator first.

The medics treating Ziva were now ready to transport her to Bethesda. One brought a gurney closer, then they both moved to lift her.

"No," Gibbs stopped them, feeling the way Ziva had clutched him even more desperately as they moved to take her from him. "I've got her."

"Sir, with all due respect –"

"I said, I've got her," he reiterated with conviction, determined to somehow get up without releasing his grip on his wife.

Vance snagged Tony's eye and tilted his head slightly toward the couple on the floor. Tony caught the drift immediately.

"Pardon us, gentleman," the director said to the paramedics. They instinctively shifted at the authority in his tone.

Moving quickly, Vance and Tony crouched on either side of Gibbs.

"We're gonna give you a hand up, Boss, all right?" Tony asked quietly.

Jethro nodded, communicating his gratitude with just a look. He adjusted his grip on Ziva so he had one hand under her knees and the other more firmly around her waist.

"On the count of three," Leon directed. "One … two … three."

Working as a unit, the three of them got him to a standing position, with Gibbs cradling his wife closely to his body.

Ziva couldn't speak, but she breathed a sigh of relief that Jethro hadn't let go of her yet. An irrational hope had taken hold that if she stayed curled into herself with her husband's arms wrapped around her that somehow, between the two of them, they would keep the baby tucked safely inside her.

The paramedics tried one more time to get him to put her down on the gurney, making the argument that they would be traveling at a high speed to the hospital and she would be safest belted in. She shook her head slightly against him. Jethro dropped a kiss to her head before taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"Look," he told them quietly, with feeling. "I'll put her on the cart in the ambulance so you can strap her in safely for transport. Until then, I've got her."

Without another word, he strode toward the open elevator that McGee already had waiting for them.

"We'll meet you there, Boss," Tim said softly as the paramedics joined them in the elevator. Jethro nodded, then met Tim's eyes to wordlessly communicate his thanks for being able to depend on the younger man to quietly and assuredly take care of the necessary details.

The doors closed and they were gone.

True to his word, Gibbs gently laid Ziva on the portable bed once it was set up in the back of the ambulance, though she barely let go of him enough for him to do it.

He stayed right by her head, clutching her hands in one of his and smoothing her hair with the other as one medic strapped her in carefully as she lay on her left side, her knees still curled toward her stomach.

She tried to speak to Jethro, but nothing came out but a strangled sob. Their eyes locked on each other's, instinctively falling back on that unspoken link that had always been between them.

He let her see the moisture standing in his own eyes even as he began to murmur to her gently, reassuringly. He pressed his lips to her hands, her forehead, her cheek, willing his own unshed tears to stay put. Sensing she needed it, his left forearm came to rest on the side of her right thigh with his hand curved over her hip in a modified version of the hold he'd had on her moments before.

Within minutes that screamed past in a blur even as time seemed to stand perfectly still, the ambulance was pulling into the emergency bay at Bethesda. The hospital personnel had been alerted to their impending arrival and opened the double doors as soon as the vehicle came to a stop. In a practiced move, they lifted the gurney out and wheeled it quickly toward the trauma room that had been prepared.

The suspect had been taken to a different local hospital since he was not connected to the Navy; Reynolds would be brought here, but the staff had strict orders to keep him away from Agent Gibbs – both of them.

Gibbs kept hold of Ziva's hand until he was pushed forcibly aside so they could get her into the closed treatment room and transferred to the hospital bed in there.

"Jethro," Ziva called urgently, reaching for him until a flash of pain forced her back onto the bed.

He started toward her.

One of the paramedics quickly identified Ziva's husband to one of the hospital employees.

"Excuse me, Agent Gibbs." The nurse who'd spoken stopped him by planting herself directly in his path. "We need some information."

"I need to get in there," he bit out, jabbing his finger toward the room where a team was swarming around Ziva.

"The best thing you can do right now to help your wife is to give me some information and the doctor a chance to examine her," the nurse said firmly. "Is she allergic to any medications or to latex?"

Jethro started to tell her what she could do with her questions while making a move to get around her. Just then, Tony, McGee, Ducky, Abby and Vance arrived. The experienced nurse sized them up quickly and looked at Tony.

"You – stand over there," she nodded her head back toward the door behind which Ziva was being treated. Her look and her tone telegraphed that she was a force with whom to be reckoned.

Hoping Gibbs wouldn't kill him for this – though he wouldn't blame him if he did – Tony took up the position into which he'd been ordered.

Jethro started toward the door again anyway, so McGee and Ducky each took an arm.

"Give 'em a chance to do their jobs, Boss," DiNozzo said quietly, looking into the death glare coming from Gibbs' eyes and seeing the agony beneath the fury. "We'll get you in there as soon as possible, even if we have to put all of them in cuffs to do it."

Gibbs shook his friends off and grabbed the nearest object. It happened to be a chair and he threw it across the room with the sound of a wounded animal, somehow retaining enough control to toss it into other furniture instead of into his friends or through a window.

Part of him knew they were right, but the bigger part of him – the part of him that loved the woman and child on that hospital bed more than his own life – needed to get into that room.

His attention was abruptly diverted momentarily by the hovering of a figure standing a ways away. It was a man who was clearly hesitant to come closer, but too concerned to leave altogether.

"You!" Gibbs snarled. "Get out!"

Agent Millin blanched and started to edge away.

He rounded on Leon. "What's he doing here? This is his fault!"

The young agent froze on the spot, looking every bit as guilty as Gibbs had just accused him of being. He was devastated that a suspect had used his weapon to shoot a fellow agent. And the fact that Agent David Gibbs was pregnant … his eyes closed as an unbidden image of his own very pregnant wife sprang to his mind.

"No, Gibbs," Vance said firmly, moving to stand directly in front of his best lead agent so that stormy blue eyes were forced to meet deep brown. "The blame here lies with Reynolds – or with me for not giving that arrogant SOB the boot the day I took the chair. And you can better believe I'll be taking care of the situation. Right now, just concentrate on Ziva."

With that, the wind went out of Gibbs' sails and he suddenly looked every day of his fifty years – and then some.

"Yeah – okay," he muttered, rubbing his hand over his face.

Turning back to the nurse, he asked quietly, "What do you need to know?"

The collective sigh of relief from the others in the room was nearly audible even as their concern for Ziva, Gibbs and their baby fairly crackled in the air.