The next four hours passed just as slowly as the first sixteen had. It seemed that they had been forgotten about, as they weren't addressed again until Doctor Burton came in to speak with another family, and saw them there. He left, but returned quickly afterwards to tell them that Ziva had not had any alarms, and that two people had clearance to visit for another ten minutes. An unspoken agreement was reached and Ducky once again accompanied Gibbs back to room 156.
Gibbs took one step inside and knew that something had changed. Something was different, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. His focus tunneled on Ziva, who remained still and unmoving on the white sheets. He retraced his earlier path to her bedside, but this time didn't touch her. He just looked at his lover, taking in every last detail. And then he knew his gut was right. Something about her had changed. It was a few moments before he realized what it was.
She seemed—less peaceful, than she had before. Her expression hadn't changed, it was still blank, but he could tell that she was in some sort of distress. It was then that he finally reached out to touch her hand, and it was in that moment that he knew what was wrong.
"Jesus," he said, "Ducky, get over here." Ziva's hand was warm, too warm. Her skin was slick, and he realized it was because a sheen of sweat had coated her skin. Her skin tone suddenly different; it was flushed slightly, which made for a sickly pallor when superimposed on her already-pale features.
"My lord," Ducky said as he laid a hand on Ziva's arm. He immediately reached up to feel her forehead. "This is not good."
"Ziva?" Gibbs asked. He felt foolish, knowing that she couldn't possibly answer him, but he could do nothing else. "Ziva, baby…" He looked at Ducky. "Get someone in here."
At that moment, Ziva's heart monitor started beeping erratically. An alarm outside the door alerted the nurses in the hall to what was happening. Three immediately rushed into the room, and Ducky had to pull Gibbs away from the bed, where he was still clinging to Ziva's overheated hand.
"Temperature's spiking! Heart rate increased!" One shouted. "Someone get Doctor Johnson!" And then the heart monitor started to trill sharply. "She's in tachycardia!" The nurse began barking orders. Dr. Johnson raced into the room, quickly surveying the scene before taking over.
"She's got a bleed! Get her back into the OR, tell them to keep the crash cart ready!"
"ZIVA!" Gibbs shouted instinctively, though he knew she couldn't hear. Dr. Johnson looked over her shoulder at him.
"Get them out of here!" she ordered. Ducky quickly pulled him out of the room. Only Gibbs' desire to not hurt the medical examiner kept him from doing everything in his power to stay with Ziva. He watched helplessly as they worked over her still form. Within moments they had pushed drugs into her IV line and were wheeling her out of the room.
"Ziva," he said as they pushed her past him. He moved to follow them, but Ducky held him back.
"Let them work, Jethro," he said. "They can help her, but only if you let them." Gibbs didn't respond, but he stopped fighting him. His shoulders slumped as he could do nothing but watch as they wheeled her around a corner and out of sight. Suddenly, he turned abruptly and lashed out, slamming his foot against the nurses' station.
"Son of a bitch!" he growled. He kicked the desk again not caring about the startled, and then pitying looks the nurses gave him.
"Jethro," Ducky started, but Gibbs cut him off.
"No, Ducky! She is in a goddamn hospital, and she's still dying! I should be helping her, but…"
"You thought it would be different," Ducky said, his voice quiet. Gibbs looked at him. "You thought," he continued, "that if you had been there for Shannon and Kelly, they'd be alive. And the same with Jenny. But now you're here for Ziva, and it doesn't seem to be making a difference." Gibbs didn't answer, but gave his friend a hard direct stare. His blue eyes were haunted, pained, and tired, and it twisted the Scotsman's heart to see the normally stoic man so hurt.
He lay a hand on Gibbs' shoulder, and the Marine reached up and gripped it firmly, as if taking strength from it. They stood there for a moment in silence before Gibbs broke the contact, brusquely turning away and making his way back out of the ward. He saw Abby look at him, and when she saw his haunted expression, her eyes widened in horror. Her hands flew to cover her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.
"Oh no," she said quietly. She turned into McGee, who immediately wrapped his arms around her protectively. Gibbs approached quietly and put a hand on her shoulder. The Goth immediately left McGee and moved to hug Gibbs. He felt he shirt dampen as her tears started to fall.
"Abby," he said quietly. "Abs, they had to take her back into surgery. She's not—" he couldn't bring himself to say the dreaded word. He didn't have to. Abby looked up at him, mascara running down her cheeks.
"She's still alive?" she asked. Gibbs nodded.
"For now." He hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. Ducky came to his rescue yet again.
"Her temperature has spiked, and they think that she has sprung another bleed. They took her back into surgery to repair it." He left out the part about her heart going into tachycardia, and Gibbs was grateful. No one needed to know exactly how frail Ziva was. Their hope rested on the fact that they knew Ziva as tough, unbreakable. The longer they thought of this as a temporary setback, the better.
Gibbs kept Abby in his arms until she got herself under control. Eventually she wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. She withdrew after a long hug, and sat down in one of the chairs against the wall. McGee sat next to her, taking her hand in his. She gave him a sad smile in response. The rest of the team drifted to different areas of the room to wait.
Hours passed, and Gibbs' gut rolled and churned uncomfortably in worry over what was happening in the Operating Room. Was she still alive? How bad was the bleed? Did they manage to slow her heart rate? Questions and what ifs swirled through his head at a dizzying speed. He said little in those strained hours, but neither did anyone else.
When Doctor Johnson finally emerged from behind the doors of the Recovery Ward, the group were at various stages of dozing off. Gibbs noticed the woman first, straightening quickly and making his way towards her from his position against the wall. Concern filled him at her disheveled appearance. She saw his concern, and quickly spoke.
"She's still alive," she said quietly. Gibbs sighed in relief. "Her fractured femur was more grievous than we thought." She paused, and puzzlement crossed her features. "Did she walk on her broken leg?" she asked. Gibbs nodded. "Unbelievable," she said in awe. "The bone had splintered, Agent Gibbs, and a shard nicked her femoral artery. She was bleeding out. We managed to stop the bleeding, and we removed the splinters. A plate was inserted to prevent further damage.
"Her heart rate is under control, but we're afraid that the scare may have been too much for her system to handle. It's doubtful that she'll make the night."
Gibbs felt his heart skip a beat as it threatened to stop in his chest. His mind went blank for several long moments as the words sank in. And then his thoughts exploded into rebelliousness. This doctor didn't know jack, not when it came to Ziva. Ziva was strong, stronger than these doctors could possibly realize. And she always keeps her promises. It didn't matter what these doctors thought; she was still alive, and she was going to make it.
The revelation didn't ease his worry, but it kept despair at bay. He wasn't going to think the worst, not now. He asked her to hang on, and so would he. He would believe in her until the end. He focused back onto the doctor as she continued to speak.
"We're keeping her in isolation for the next twelve hours, to reduce the risk of infection. The less work her body has to do at this point, the greater her chances." She paused. "Unfortunately, this means no visitors for the next twelve hours. We will give hourly updates on her condition." She hesitated. Looking seriously at Gibbs, she pressed her lips together. "In all honesty, Agent Gibbs, it doesn't look good. I would prepare for the worst." Gibbs resisted the urge to contradict her. "I'm sorry."
She turned and re-entered the ward, leaving a silent room in her wake. Gibbs shook his head, silently disagreeing with the prognosis. He heard Abby clunk towards him in her platform boots. He turned to face her.
"You don't believe her, do you Gibbs?" Her tone was almost pleading. He shook his head.
"No," he said seriously. "No, I don't."
"Why not?"
"Because he didn't give her permission." This came from Tony, who was walking towards them. "Remember when I was dying Abby? Gibbs didn't give me permission. And look at me now." His grim smile was out of character, as was his serious tone. "If she was having visitors I would tell her to be on the lookout for a love tap. I know from personal experience that being near death does not exempt you from…" He paused when he saw Gibbs hard look. "…Gibbs' affection."
"You're right," Abby said authoritatively. "She's going to be okay. Those doctors don't know anything. Well, they might know something, but not about Ziva. And if we all have positive thoughts, that'll help Ziva even more. She's going to be okay, because we all know her better than those stupid doctors." Gibbs smiled at her pep talk. He wrapped her in a one armed hug.
"That's right Abs." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "We know her best."
