Chapter 10: Pulled from the Edge

Time was frozen in that moment of realizing that Tim had stopped breathing. It was an agonizing moment that couldn't seem to end, and Tony, for the first time in his life, thought he might just understand the concept of time dilation. Tim didn't look any different than he had when he was breathing...it was the sound that was missing. He was still bald, white, thin...he was still Tim, but his grip on life was gone...illustrated by the sudden cessation of the noisy breaths that had so disturbed Tony before. What he now realized was that the silence was infinitely worse than any wheezing sound Tim could have made. ...or so he thought...

Then, time moved on and Dr. Scott and one of the nurses were there, working on Tim, getting him to breathe again. It seemed to take forever, but in reality, it was less than a minute before there was a loud, long, weak gasp for air. Then, the little bit of air that had been taken in rushed out in a fit of coughing that seemed too strong for Tim to tolerate, too much force, too much energy. In between, he tried to breathe in and Tony winced in sympathy, knowing how it felt to have the air going out and not being able to bring any back in. He backed up a few steps, trying to give the medical personnel more room to work, to help...and then, Tim's eyes opened as he struggled to inhale.

He met Tony's eyes, the only part of him showing behind all the garb, and what Tim said was harder to hear than the silence.

Each word cost Tim dearly, a bit of air that he could ill afford to lose...but what he said was more important, more important even than air.

"Please..." Tim coughed again as his lungs tried to expel the fluid clogging up the airways. "...don't... ...go..." Another coughing fit, but somehow, Tim managed to keep his eyes on Tony. "...not... ...al-...-one..."

Tony looked from Tim to Dr. Scott who merely gestured for Tony to come back to the bed. With a feeling of slight reluctance, he did.

And he stayed...all through the agonizing minutes (it felt like years) that Tim coughed and gasped. He held him up, reliving his own experience...from the outside this time.

He doesn't have the plague. Pneumonia is much less serious, Tony tried to reassure himself as another coughing fit shook Tim. If you're healthy, it's less serious, reality intruded mercilessly, but Tim isn't healthy.

"Come on, McGee. Just breathe."

Tim's hand reached out and grabbed Tony's arm...with a grip stronger than Tony would have thought possible under the circumstances.

"Is... it... the... ...same?" Tim's words were nearly unintelligible through the desperation for air.

"No," Tony said, feeling the tears that he didn't want to shed. "No, it's so much worse. I'd rather go through it again myself than watch."

In spite of the coughing, in spite of the struggle, Tim smiled. "Trade..."

"If only I could, Tim."

Tim coughed, each fit seeming to do less for him. Each violent release of breath seemed to only bring Tim closer to having none at all.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

...then, suddenly, without warning, the coughing stopped and Tim was back to the slow steady wheeze he'd been using before. He slumped back and his eyes closed, his mouth moving, but no sound coming out...except for the wheeze, of course.

Tony sighed with a relief so deep that he wasn't sure he could stay upright for a second.

"Is he...going to be all right?" he asked, cursing a voice that sounded so fearful, so unlike himself.

Dr. Scott sighed himself and shook his head. "He could be."

Tony just nodded. That was all they could ever say, really. All they could ever give were possibilities...but at least, Tim was breathing again. Not well. Not efficiently...but he was breathing. That was something.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It wasn't much, but it turned out to be enough. Tim teetered on the brink for three more days. Tony was finally forced to leave, but Dr. Scott did begin to allow visits from others. One per day. Tim didn't wake up during those three days...or if he did, he gave no sign. Tony didn't get to ask him what he had seen, others took the allowed visiting hours, but he didn't forget it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

On the fourth day after his near death, the twenty-fourth since he had started chemotherapy, Tim woke up. It wasn't exciting, not as such. No one was staring eagerly at his face, waiting for his eyes to open. He didn't give a huge gasp and regain consciousness. It was in the early hours of the morning. No one was there. It was in the brief periods between visits, whether family, friends or medical staff. Dr. Scott had been adamant that everyone needed to get sleep, that it wouldn't help Tim if they all exhausted themselves as well. Soon, there would be people around. Soon, another one of the nurses, whose names he had never bothered to learn, would come in and check his vitals...but for now, there was no one.

Breathing was still more difficult than it should be, but at least he could take a breath and feel as though he was actually getting oxygen. He opened his eyes and looked around the room. There were chairs outside the window, lots of them, more than probably should be there. Tim smiled to himself. He liked that thought. Then, his smile faded as he looked over toward the corner of the room. He wondered if it had merely been a dream, a hallucination brought on by his oxygen-starved, fever-addled brain. Tony hadn't seen what he had seen. Real or not, it was gone now. He'd never know.

Tim tried to think about how he felt. He was fairly certain that any real attempt at movement would end with him either gasping for breath or in a limp heap on the floor...probably both. And yet...it wasn't as depressing as it had been. He could feel the fear and the anger and the self-loathing hovering around the edges of what he was feeling now, but they weren't the dominant emotions.

Why not? He fell asleep again, wondering.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Yes, I am perfectly healthy now, Tony," Ziva insisted.

"Are you sure?"

"YES!"

"I mean, really sure?"

"Tony, you sound more like a mother than McGee's mother does."

Tony stopped as they walked down the hallway toward Isolation. "I do not!"

"Yes, you do," Ziva said, grinning maliciously. "I have taken many precautions to be sure that I did not pass my illness off to anyone else, and now I am well. I wish to see him. Dr. Scott said that it was fine."

"When did you talk to Dr. Scott?"

"This morning."

"He's not even awake, you know."

"For now. That does not mean he will not wake up while I am there. He did for you."

Tony caught the edge in her tone. "Yeah, and then he almost died."

Ziva stopped and turned around. "Are you trying to make me believe that you would rather be somewhere else, even with McGee almost dying?" Her smiled mellowed. "You would not. Neither would I. It is hard to see, but it is even harder, just to hear about it, without ever seeing."

Tony couldn't think of an answer to that, and Ziva knew she had won. She continued down the hall.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up...again, and realized that there was someone else there. He tried to decide whether or not it was worth actually joining the conscious world...but then, he remembered how much there was waiting for him and he opened his eyes.

"Ziva," he whispered in surprise.

"McGee!" The happiness in her voice was genuine, and a little surprising. "I did not think you would wake up yet."

"What...I haven't...been sleeping long...enough yet?" Tim asked, smiling. "Are you all...recovered?"

"I should be asking you that question, McGee. I only had a cold."

Tim laughed a little...and he didn't cough. "Isn't the answer...to that question...pretty obvious?"

"I suppose. I am completely recovered. I would not be here, otherwise."

"True. Two...obvious questions..."

"McGee," Ziva began.

"I'm...alive, Ziva. That's...more than I could say...before."

"If you were dead, you would not be saying anything at all."

Tim grinned, a pale shadow of his usual expression, but it was a real smile.

"You look...better in scrubs than...Tony does."

Ziva chuckled. "I look better than Tony does anyway."

Tim tried to leer, but that was too much to accomplish in his current state. He looked toward the corner of the room, just to make sure that what he had seen before wasn't there again. He hadn't understood it before, but now, whether it was real or not, he thought he did...it had been a warning. Then, he looked toward the window and saw Tony...and his family, all outside, staring at him.

"We have...an audience, Ziva."

Ziva looked over her shoulder. "I would give them something to enjoy watching, but I cannot with this mask over my face."

Tim blushed, and he knew Ziva noticed it.

"I don't...know what you mean, Ziva."

Ziva leaned right over and whispered in his ear. "You just wish you didn't know what I meant, McGee."

"Ziva...my parents are here," Tim said, blushing again.

"Good thing for you that I am masked, then, yes?"

Tim laughed again, but this time, he coughed. "Stop...it, Ziva."

"Should I speak more loudly, McGee?"

"No!" Tim looked desperately toward the window. "Hey...Dad...how are...things?"

Ziva whispered, "Sneaky, McGee. Do not worry. I will not embarrass you further."

"Thank you," Tim whispered back, but the look in his eyes made her wonder what he was thanking her for.

"Better now that you're awake," Sam was saying. "Are you feeling any better?"

In spite of the awful wheeze, Tim could answer fairly optimistically. "A...little. I still...feel a bit...under the weather."

"I wonder why," Tony said, drily.

Tim smiled and then looked at Ziva again. "Is Gibbs...still stuck in MTAC?"

Ziva looked at Tony and Tim noticed something.

"No, he is not."

"What...is it, Ziva?"

"Nothing, McGee." If Tim hadn't seen her expression moments before, he might have believed her.

"What...happened?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying." Tim looked at the group at the window again. "Where's Abby? Where's Ducky?"

Ziva was silent.

Tim looked at Tony. "What is it...Tony? What...is going on?"

Still no one answered, and finally, Tim got angry.

"Tell me!" he shouted and then had another coughing fit. Ziva had to hold him as he tried to breathe calmly again. "Please..."

Tony finally relented and nodded at Ziva.

"Gibbs is in Bethesda."

"The Naval Hospital?" Tim asked, feeling a measure of dread.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He was undercover, part of an operation. We still don't know what it was. Only he and Jenny were in on it. Abby and Ducky are with him."

"Is he...okay?"

"We hope so."

Tim leaned back, drained by more than coughing. It seemed impossible that something else could have happened to Gibbs. It wasn't enough that he had been shot by a terrorist, nearly blown up and then poisoned over the last couple of years. Now...he was injured again. As he continued to breathe, he lost most of his desire to speak. He was just overwhelmed at the thought of Gibbs injured again...and by the fact that once again, he wouldn't visit Gibbs in the hospital. Tim hadn't...not once...and this time...he couldn't.