Disclaimer – See chapter 1

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Chapter 54

Dr Donald Mallard entered Mia's hospital room at dawn the next morning, a flask of 'properly brewed' Earl Grey tea in one hand, and an extra-large takeaway cup of Gibbs-strength coffee in the other. The medical examiner opened his mouth to announce his arrival but closed it again as a smile crossed his lips.

Gibbs, resting against the pillowed headboard, slept with one arm limp against the mattress, the other arm lay along his leg, Mia's little hand wrapped around his thumb. The child, positioned safely between the Marine's legs and tucked under the blanket, had slumped slightly to the right as she slept, head against her right shoulder.

Ducky paused for a few seconds to enjoy the moment, before he moved forwards to place the Marine's coffee on the table. Whether it was the subconscious feeling of there being someone else in the room or, as Abby would call it, Gibbs' 'spidey-sense' that there was coffee nearby, the agent blinked and inhaled deeply as he woke.

A raised hand from his colleague stilled Gibbs' movements and alerted him to the little girl still sleeping against his chest. The silver-haired agent dropped his head slightly as he smiled at the hand gripping his thumb. There was no tension in Mia's body other than the occasional muscle twitch brought on by sleep and it lightened the hearts of both men to see the child finally resting.

Ducky passed the coffee to Gibbs to prevent him disturbing Mia's sleeping form, and the agent took a grateful mouthful. The strong, bitter liquid seemed to awaken not only Gibbs' senses, but appeared to reach something within the little girl. Her tiny hand squeezed slightly as she tried to sit more upright.

"Need some help there, sweetpea?" Gibbs murmured softly, noting her left arm reaching to the side.

"Can't… can't… get no… not get… hold…" She tried, shaking her head, sleep messing with her words.

"Got nothing to pull yourself up with on that side, honey." Gibbs said. "Hang on and I'll sit you up a bit, ok?"

A nod was all the response he received as he passed his coffee off to Ducky. Placing strong hands under Mia's arms, he slid the little body upright, noting the inhaled gasp as the pain flared, and keeping his hands in place until she was steady. Mia watched as the doctor handed the cup back to Gibbs, who seemed quite happy to have the child resting against him. Anything but that damned plastic chair, which killed his back!

"How are you feeling this morning, Mia?" Ducky asked, sitting beside the bed.

"Words… bad… slow…"

"Remember what the doctor said?" Gibbs soothed, taking Mia's hand in his and kissing the top of her head. "Your words will be mixed up sometimes, but you take your time and keep trying."

"I 'member… bug… bug… no…" Mia sighed, frustrated. "Now… badder."

"You mean you feel worse today? Not as good as yesterday?" Ducky prodded. A nod. "Alright, little one, can you tell me what this is?" He asked, holding up his pen.

"A… black." She replied, looking intently at the object. There was no sign that she knew the answer was incorrect and she made no attempt to change the word.

"And can you take it from me?" Ducky asked, ignoring the previous answer. Gibbs was motionless and silent, terrified at what he was witnessing.

Mia moved her hand from within Gibbs' and reached for the pen, her movements highly uncoordinated. Dropping her hand into her lap, she took a few shaky breaths before trying again.

"S…smell…"

That word marked the beginning of strong, unstoppable contractions within the child's muscles as she was pulled into a forceful seizure.

Ducky immediately pulled Mia forward, and motioned for Gibbs to get off the bed.

"Help me get her on her right!" The doctor ordered. Between the two men, they managed to get Mia onto her good side. Gibbs' heart was breaking at the pained sounds coming from the little girl, whose muscles were straining hard. "Page her consultant!" Ducky shouted to the nurse who entered.

Mia's back arched, head thrown back, muscles in full spasm as Ducky attempted to support her heavily-damaged leg.

"She's not breathing, Duck!" Gibbs cried, gently catching Mia's arms as she risked further injury and feeling surprised at the strength in her limbs.

"Hold the oxygen mask in front of her face," Ducky instructed. "And keep talking to her."

For several long minutes, Gibbs and Ducky could only support and reassure the child as spasms wracked her already-injured body. It became clear after some time that consciousness had fled from the little girl as the moans and whimpers died out. Nurses had entered, putting the sides of the bed up and slipping padded sleeves over the rails.

After what felt like an impossibly long nine minutes, Mia's body started to relax, the shaking lessening, and allowing her to finally breathe properly.

"It's stopping now, little one." Ducky murmured to the child, internally relieved. The neurological consultant had arrived not long before and nodded his head in agreement with the medical examiner.

"Duck?" Gibbs asked, needing information.

"The scans we took of her brain when she was first admitted showed some damage due to the length of time she went without oxygen." The consultant informed them. "From the reports leading to this admission, there may well have been further damage done, which we don't know about."

"You saying now she has epilepsy?" Gibbs growled, frustrated.

"What the consultant is saying is that we need to do another scan to see if there is more damage before we jump to diagnosing conditions she may not have. This seizure might be a one-time event, or it might be something which will happen again." Ducky explained.

"I will go and book her in for an MRI." The consultant said, turning on his heel and leaving.

"For the moment," Ducky started, turning back to Mia. "There are a few things we can do to lessen her pain when she wakes up. Her muscles have been strained and will be sore, a bit like if you went for a run and didn't stretch when you finished."

Gibbs nodded, taking Mia's good arm in his hands and mimicking his colleague's actions by rubbing the limb, running his thumbs down the muscles lying beneath the skin in the hopes to take the strain away. Her arms and legs were easy enough, even despite the external metalwork protruding from her left leg, but little could be done for her back.

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