"Do you remember where you went off the road?" May asked as she and Tim went down the road. She was in the passenger seat while Tim drove.
He shook his head in disdain. The entire area looked the same to him. "I know it was somewhere down this way, but I won't know it until I see her car.
The two were driving down the road at a snail's pace, eyes peeled for signs of a recent wreck. Between the horrid weather and the late hour it seemed no other drivers—save for Willy who was on his way to the pay phone to call for help—were on the road, so they were able to amble on as slowly as they wanted to, making sudden stops when they thought they saw something.
I failed her, Tim thought to himself. She had been counting on him to get help, to save her and the little one. And what had he done? He'd wasted precious time by hitting his head and forgetting about her. Good one, McDoofus. If she died as a result of his failure, he would never be able to forgive himself.
As though sensing the man's grief and guilt, May placed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. "We'll find her, dear. The good Lord will watch over her and your baby."
He offered a wan smile, though he made no effort to agree with her.
As they drove on slowly, the rain, thankfully, seemed to lessen. At one point, it let up until it was nothing more than a slight drizzle. Still, they had no sign of Ziva's car.
Tim let out a sigh. "This is hopeless."
"Nothing is hopeless."
"I probably messed up. They were probably in the other direction and now we're just wasting our time, getting farther and farther away from them."
"Timothy, you said you'd been this way and that was your gut reaction. You must always trust your gut. Now keep driving."
He knew better than to talk back.
The blackness which surrounded them left them almost blind, despite the aid of headlights. May had a flashlight which she shone out into the off-road areas. "Careful up here," she warned as they came upon a turn in the road. "It's a sharp one."
Tim dutifully circled the steering wheel, letting the car gently make the turn. His eyes were on the road, not wanting to chance an accident, even at this pace. That was when he heard a gasp from the side.
"Stop the car!" she ordered. His foot slammed on the brake. "Is that what I think it is?"
Tim glanced out, squinting in the dark. May's hand which held the flashlight shook slightly, but there was no mistaking the red color of Ziva's car. He shoved the gear into park and jumped out of the car without another thought.
"Ziva!" he yelled as he ran off the road, down to the wreckage. He stopped short when he saw the damage. Had that tree limb been there when he'd left? "Ziva!"
There was neither sound nor movement from within and Tim ran closer, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst. The windows were broken—again, he wondered, was this new damage or had he simply forgotten about the car being in such poor shape?—and when he looked in he saw the unmistakable image of his girlfriend. She was naked still, the disheveled blanket doing little to nothing for her, and seemed to be cradling her right arm as if it were a child.
"Ziva, baby, I'm here!" he called. She didn't stir. The temperature inside the car was frigid and no sound came from the heaters.
He threw open the door and slid into the car beside her. He'd already removed his coat and he now wrapped it around her. As he was pulling her out, he heard May from behind.
"Careful!" she warned. He turned and saw her standing there beside her car, her own coat wrapped tightly around her large frame. Tim had no idea how smart it was for a woman in her condition to be standing there like that in the cold night air, but he had no time to fight with her about it. He noted that the car was still parked in the middle of the road, the hazard lights blinking brightly. Good. That would make it easier for help to find them.
He carried Ziva from one car to the other, May following behind. "Is she breathing?"
Tim didn't answer. Instead, he placed Ziva in the back of the car—heaters blowing full blast—then pressed two fingers against her neck. A pulse, albeit a weak, unsteady one, was there. He breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in hours.
"How long will it take for help to arrive?"
May wasn't certain. "That depends on who they've got available."
Tim looked longingly at Ziva. His hand brushed away a strand of wet hair which hung in her face. "Come on," he whispered. "Come on, just open your eyes…let me know you're okay."
Her eyelids didn't even flutter.
May, wanting to give the couple as much privacy as she could, slipped into the front passenger seat. Tim lay down in the back, holding Ziva in the same manner he had held her before he'd gone of for help. He situated her on top of him, her head on his chest. His arms were wrapped around her body and he rubbed his hands up and down her arms, hoping to generate some much-needed heat.
"You can't do this," he told her in a low tone. "You've got to pull through this. After all we've been through tonight, all of the boundaries we overcame, it just wouldn't be fair to end it like this."
Sometimes, McGee, life just isn't fair, he heard her say in his mind.
"No, it isn't," he agreed glumly, "but that still doesn't make this right. Now I'm not going to argue with you; either wake yourself up or I'll give you the Gibbs slap of all Gibbs slaps."
You would strike your girlfriend? she asked incredulously in his mind. You would strike her while she's pregnant with your child?
"I don't want to do it…but if that's what it takes…" Now he was just talking so that he could concentrate on something other than crying. He didn't want to cry. He wasn't going to cry.
My silly little McGee. I am supposed to be the stoic one, remember?
"I guess it's begun to rub off on me a bit."
Are you not the one who told me I did not have to pull the stoic act?
"That was different…you had me there. I've got no one…"
As he continued talking to himself, conversing with the voice of Ziva which only existed in his head, May glanced sadly at the couple in the rearview mirror. She said nothing, though. Her words were already being used on the prayers she was muttering beneath her breath.
"So I was thinking that when the baby's born, we should get an apartment together. Maybe we should do that even before then. A nice little place with a nursery. My mom has Sarah's old crib somewhere along with some of our baby stuff, so we wouldn't necessarily have to buy a lot of new stuff, unless you wanted to, of course. I'm not sure what we'll name it…I guess we have time to figure that out, though," he rambled, just saying whatever popped into his mind. "I never thought much about having a junior, but what would you think about Timothy if it's a boy? And if it's a girl, maybe Brittany or something like that?"
"No…"
Tim's words stopped and he looked down at Ziva's motionless form, unsure if that had come from her own mouth or had simply been another figment of his imagination.
"What?"
"No…Brittany…knew girl once…Brittany…a b-bitch…"
"Ziva!" he exclaimed. "Thank God!"
"'S cold,' she murmured, snuggling down deeper into his embrace. "Think I broke m' arm." Her words were slurring; she was in a dizzy state of consciousness. But Tim didn't care so much.
"We're getting help, Ziva," he promised, planting a firm kiss on the top of her head. "They're coming now. We'll get you all fixed up."
"Th…baby…"
"They'll take care of the baby too."
"'S lost…"
"Nothing's lost, Ziva," he swore as the night's silence was broken by the sounds of distant wailing. Lights were flashing, signaling the arrival of the long overdue help. "Nothing's lost…we're going to be okay."
