And on to chapter 6 we go. Now, I am not a doctor- my medical knowledge is basically what I pick up watching Gray's Anatomy and what I learned in Health Class. So basically, it's not much. So just… go with it. This chapter is where the weirdness starts with all my OC's and such. If you see a plot line issue, just let me know because it is a long fic and I have a whole long backstory in my head about everything, but if I've forgotten something and therefore something else doesn't make sense, let me know. And yes, I kind of did a shout out to my college in this chapter(which extends into the next chapter), mostly because I didn't want to have to research another college and I just used my majors because they kind of fit really well and I know all about them.

Huge thanks to my amazing beta VanishingP2000. Any remaining mistakes are mine and probably due to my excessive editing right before I post the chapters.

Chapter 6
They arrived at Georgetown University Hospital 15 minutes later and Colby was looking considerably paler, although he was still joking with David even as they unloaded the stretcher at the ER ambulance bay. David was ushered off into the ER waiting room while Colby was rushed off into a trauma bay.

David paced around the waiting room, resembling a caged panther. A nurse made a move to come and say something to him, but then saw the gun and badge decorating his belt and seemed to think better of it and veered off away from him. Apparently she had experience with Law Enforcement Officers waiting for news on injured partners and had learned that they were best left alone. About a half an hour later a doctor came out and made a beeline for David.

"Are you here with Agent Granger?" he asked and when David nodded, he continued. "Well, as you know he sustained a gunshot wound to the abdomen. It was really right in the middle of being a graze and being a through and through that just happened to be right next to his side. He was very lucky, though, another inch or two and it would have hit an artery and he would have bled out before we could get to him."

David reached out and gripped the counter for support. An inch was all that had stood between his best friend dying and his best friend simply laughing the injury off as a minor setback. Thank god that guy hadn't had better aim. Or, depending on where Charlie had been before Colby had tackled him, thank god he had such good aim. Thank god for that inch, at any rate.

"Anyway, the bullet didn't hit anything vital and it hardly damaged any muscle at all. Your partner is basically the picture of good luck. We stitched the wound up and gave him some painkillers, nothing major, just enough so that it didn't hurt to breathe anymore. Which, I might add, he wouldn't admit to. As far as stubborn cops who don't know their own limitations, he's one of the worst. Anyway, I'm guessing that he won't want to stay overnight, so as soon as we fill his prescription for some mild pain meds, he can go home. I'll take you up there now. Maybe you'll have more luck in getting him to move than we've been having."

"Sounds like Colby. Although, he has the highest damn pain threshold of anyone I've ever met, so he might not be in as much pain as you think and honestly, after the couple of months he's had, this probably seems like a paper cut," David said and the doctor looked over at him curiously.

"If I may ask, what happened to him?" he said and David considered him for a moment before answering.

"He was tortured. Using drugs. Tubocurarine and Quinuclidinyl Benzilate. It wasn't pretty and it almost killed him. Well, actually it was the potassium chloride that almost killed him, but still," David said, shaking his head slightly and the doctor stared at him.

"Wow. Yeah, now I'm thinking that he might not actually have been in as much pain as we assumed."

"Oh, I'm sure he's definitely in pain, he just manages to block it out extremely effectively," David said, wishing, not for the first time, that Colby didn't need to block out severe pain quite so often.

"Well, in any event, we gave him the pain killers, although he insisted that they not be too strong, he still wanted to be lucid," the doctor said and David rolled his eyes.

"Like he doesn't know that the only place that he is going right now is back to the hotel and into bed. He was already on the verge of collapse before the gunshot." The doctor sent David a confused look once again and once again David explained. "Up until about 4 this morning he hadn't slept in about 3 days and since then he's only gotten a couple hours of sleep at home and a few more on the plane from LA."

"Well, with this injury, he is definitely going to need to get, at the very least, one good, long night of sleep," the doctor said and David nodded in agreement as they reached the door to the room that Colby was currently occupying. "You can go right on in and a nurse will be by with his discharge papers and a wheelchair for him in a few moments."

"Thank you, doctor," David said as he opened the door and the doctor headed towards the nurse's station.

The door closed quietly behind David, and Colby cracked his eyes open and looked up to see his partner standing by the end of the bed and looking at him in concern.

"How are you doing, Colby?"

'Eh, I've had better days. But on the bright side, the nurse that bandaged me up was very hot," Colby said, in true Granger fashion and David rolled his eyes at his partners' antics, although he couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, you'll be fine," David laughed. "So, you've got a choice. Either you can walk-okay; actually you can be wheeled out of here in a few minutes when the nurse comes in with your discharge papers and the wheelchair, but sans your shirt. Or, I can call Don and have him or somebody bring you a shirt over, but it'll be at least 45 minutes before it gets here. Your choice, man," David knew perfectly well that Colby would chose the first option, as he absolutely detested hospitals with every fiber of his being, and he would also most likely make a vaguely dirty comment. Plus, he would definitely try to weasel his way out of the hospital's wheelchair requirement. Which wasn't happening.

"Well, as a service to the women and gay men in this hospital, I think I'll take the no shirt option." Check and check. "And man, seriously, is the wheelchair really necessary? I think I can mange to walk to the car. I'm fine." And that made it three for three.

"Colby, you do realize that if that bullet had been another inch to the right, I'd be identifying your body in the morgue right now. Which is not a thought that I find particularly pleasant. Not to mention the fact that the blood loss on top of your already existing exhaustion, you'd end up going down halfway there. And man, you're heavy and if you pass out, I'm going to have to catch you, because you are my friend and it is, therefore, my obligation to keep you from face planting. So, you're using the wheelchair or else I'm not signing the papers saying that I'll baby sit you tonight and then they'll keep you here overnight. So, it's either 5 minutes in a wheelchair or 15 hours in this hospital. Up to you, bud," David said and Colby sighed, dropping his head back onto the bed. He knew that this was an argument that he was not going to win and quite frankly, at this moment, not walking actually sounded very appealing.

"Alright, whatever. Let's just get this show on the road already," Colby said, clearly very antsy to get out of the hospital as soon as possible.

"Just as soon as the nurse gets here we can get going. And before you even think about it, we are going straight back to the hotel, where we are staying until tomorrow morning," David said, forestalling any suggestion Colby would have undoubtedly made about stopping by the NCIS office to see where they were in the case before heading back to the hotel.

"Sure man. But can we just swing by McDonalds or something one the way. I'm starving," Colby said and David looked over him in concern.

"When was the last time you ate, Colby?"

"Uh…that's a really good question. I think it was the Chinese we ordered for dinner last night."

"Oh, well, that's great. Allow me to rephrase my previous comment. You've been shot, you're exhausted and you haven't eaten in 24 hours. Are you just trying to see how far you can push yourself before you collapse?" David chastised and Colby looked up at him defensively.

'Hey, it was not my intention to get shot and you're the one who dragged me out of bed at 0600 this morning, getting in the way of me correcting both the eating and sleeping problems," Colby said and David deflated, looking guilty, which Colby noticed and hurried to continue. "Not what I meant. It's not your fault; don't shoot the messenger and all that. Blame the crazy that's killing off all these guys."

"I should have made sure that you had eaten something, though. Or at least insisted that you go to the hotel to get some sleep before you started working on the case," David said, unwilling to let go of his culpability in the matter.

"David, it's not your job to keep track of me, I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself." David opened his mouth and Colby quickly amended. "Well, at least I should be able to. And I usually am, too. Plus you were focused on the case, same as I was," Colby reasoned, but David still refused to let it drop.

"Yeah, but I remembered to eat!"

"And so did I, until today and that's because my day went a little something like this: 3am, almost passed out in the FBI bullpen, 4am, was dragged home by you and collapsed on couch, 6am, was rudely awoken by the overly shrill ringing of my cell phone, 7am, left my apartment with you for the airport, 7:30am, got on FBI plane to Washington DC, 3pm-now we're on EST, not PST, by the way-arrived at DC, 3:30pm, arrived at NCIS headquarters where I had to deal with Special Agent Gibbs being an arrogant, self righteous bastard, 4pm, get meet with informant and leave for aforementioned meet and finally at 4:30 pm I got shot by...someone at an abandoned ware house, which leads to me sitting here at 5:37pm having this conversation with you. Not really much chance for food," Colby summarized wryly and David raised his eyebrows at his partners' uncharacteristic bitter sarcasm. "Sorry, I get really cranky when I don't get food."

"Yeah, clearly. I'm guessing that the pain and lack of sleep have nothing to do with it."

"Well, they're not exactly helpful," Colby said with a small smile.

"No kidding. We'll stop somewhere on the way back to the hotel, but not McDonalds. Something with some type of nutritional value. How's Subway sound?" David asked and Colby nodded. At that moment the door opened and a nurse appeared with two clipboards and wheelchair. She handed the first clipboard to Colby and the second to David. David signed the single piece of paper saying that he would take responsibility for Colby and make sure he didn't go skydiving or anything that night, while Colby had to sign about a dozen different forms for various things. Once he had finally finished they both handed the clipboards back to the nurse, who thanked them and left, Colby watching her intently.

"See, I told you she was hot," Colby said and David just rolled his eyes, though privately he had to agree with Colby's assessment. He didn't comment, instead he offered his hand to Colby to help him up off the bed. David supported Colby as he got off the bed and helped him sit slowly down in the wheelchair. "Let's blow this popsicle stand already, man!" Colby said, eager to finally be rid of the hospital and David laughed at his enthusiasm.

"Sure," David said, still laughing slightly as he pushed the wheelchair out of the room and towards the elevators. They stopped in front of the elevators and waited for one to arrive on their floor. A young woman, probably a college student, if the VCU sweatshirt, jeans, messenger bag and armful of textbooks were any indication, looked over at Colby oddly. Not in an 'oh my god he's hot' way that would have been expected, considering Colby' well defined muscle and his current lack of a shirt, but in a 'why does he look so familiar' sort of way.

"Hey, Sarah!" A voice called and the young woman, clearly Sarah, looked around at a young man that was jogging towards them.

"What's up Eric?" she said as he got to where she was standing and handed her a folder, taking the textbooks in exchange.

"I thought that you might want to see this. Jackson just brought it in. Apparently Martins was killed last night."

"Damn it. We're being hunted, Eric. And we need to find out who the hunter is." the girl named Sarah fumed, turning on her heel and taking off back in the direction that she had come from, the man named Eric quickly following behind her, still holding her textbooks.

Okay, I know that they could have (and in reality would have) given Colby a scrub top or something or that David would have at least given him his jacket and that it's cold in DC December, but I just enjoy the thought of Colby shirtless. So what do you say we ignore logic, weather and hospital procedure and all just take a moment to enjoy the mental of image of Colby wandering around shirtless?