Purgatory
Chapter 20 – Trauma
The downwash from the MEDVAC helicopter stung EJ's eyes as it descended, finally landing in the field in front of the farm house. The engine noise and the blast from its rotors continued relentlessly as a Marine hospital corpsman slid open it's side door, jumped down and ran to where she, McGee and Bishop were hovering protectively over Gibbs' unconscious body.
Immediately after they found Gibbs in the fallout bunker Bishop had phoned Cozort, briefing him on the situation and Gibbs' condition and requesting an emergency medical evacuation. Cozort had called Whidby Island Naval Air Station requesting assistance from the base commander who scrambled the Sikorsky MEDVAC helicopter, directing it to their coordinates. It had taken the three of them almost 15 minutes to check Gibbs out to determine if he could be moved and then wrestle his dead weight down the hall and up the narrow set of steps, the last part being extremely difficult and time consuming. By the time they moved him outside EJ could hear the helicopter approaching.
On her knees, Gibbs' head cradled in her lap, EJ listened as the corpsman approached Bishop. McGee stood next to her, intent on their conversation.
"I'm Sergeant Weston," the corpsman clipped out quickly, shouting over the deep whine of the helicopter's engines. "Can you give me a sit-rep?"
"Special Agent Bishop, NCIS," Bishop reciprocated. "We just rescued this man," he said, pointing to Gibbs laying on the ground. "He's been a prisoner and been tortured for three months." His face was grim as he continued, "His vitals are failing. We need to get him to a hospital."
"Roger that, sir," the corpsman said. Shoving a clipboard at Bishop the medic continued, "Sir, I need someone to fill out the patient's vital info on this form. We gotta move fast. Can you do that, Sir?" Bishop nodded and grabbed the clipboard.
Weston quickly stepped over to Gibbs and EJ and knelt down. He pulled out a pen-sized flashlight and moved to Gibbs's head in EJ's lap. "Sorry Ma'am, you'll have to let go."
"Like hell," EJ said, her words came out harsher than she had intended, but she wasn't going to let go of Gibbs now, not for anything.
The surprise on the Marine's face lasted only a moment and then his experience surfaced and he quickly outlined the situation for her. "Ma'am, I need to evaluate him. You need to step back so I can do that. Every second is critical."
EJ didn't move, rooted in place. She saw the displeasure on the man's face as he turned toward Bishop.
"Agent Bishop," he shouted, "please take this lady somewhere else."
EJ scowled at the corpsman. "It's NCIS Special Agent Barrett," she growled back at him, "and I'm not going anywhere!"
Just as the words finished leaving her mouth she felt Bishop grabbing her arms and pulling her up. As he lifted her out of the way the medic took over supporting Gibbs head. EJ struggled against Bishop only for a second, but she had no fight left in her. Giving up she sunk into his chest, staring down at the corpsman as he worked on Gibbs.
The medic looked up at McGee. "Take his head and hold it like this," he said, demonstrating what he wanted McGee to do. "I need you to support his head and neck while I evaluate him." McGee dropped to his knees behind Gibbs' head and assumed the position the medic had shown him.
EJ watched Weston hovering over Gibbs. Sound faded away as her vision narrowed to a pinpoint where only the Marine and Gibbs existed. Time slowed to a crawl as she watched the medic's skilled hands move; touching, prodding, searching, testing. Gibbs looked weak and fragile laying unconscious on the grass, so unlike the strong and powerful man she had fallen in love with over a decade earlier. So unlike the man who had come to her not so long ago, willing to change; finding the strength to risk his love and heart again, trusting them to her. He had fought and survived long enough for her to find him. And she had found him. He needed her now. It was her job to protect him. It was time for her to take over, to keep him alive, no matter what. She owed him nothing less.
After a few moments the medic waved over to the helicopter, his movement pulling EJ from her reverie. Two more medics jumped out with a stretcher. A minute later the three corpsmen were hoisting Gibbs' stretcher into the back of the helicopter.
EJ pulled away from Bishop's loose grasp and ran over to the helicopter. "I'm going with him," she shouted over the engine and the wind.
"Sorry, Ma'am," Weston said. "No can do."
"Bullshit, Sergeant!" EJ spat back. "I'm getting on that chopper. He's not leaving my sight."
"Agent Barrett, I don't have time for this," he scowled back at EJ, his patience obviously having run out. Turning he shouted orders to the other medics as they worked to secure the stretcher for flight.
Panic gripped her. Once again Gibbs' life was slipping from her grasp, just like in her nightmares. She reached out, her hand trembling, and grabbed Weston's arm. He looked over his shoulder at her. "Please," she pleaded, pain in her voice, "I can't loose him again."
Weston turned toward her. His face had softened. But he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ma'am." He turned back toward the helicopter and began to study the information on the clipboard Bishop had handed him.
Releasing a weary sigh her chin dropped to her chest and her shoulders slumped, defeated once again. She glanced over at Bishop, then McGee, both wearing pained expressions. She knew they could see the fear and grief on her face.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Weston freeze as his finger traced down the paper on the clipboard. He spun around and stared at her, his mouth hanging open.
"Ma'am," he said, his face contorted, a combination of surprise and concern. "This man's name is Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Is that Marine Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs?" his voice was urgent, almost needy in its tone.
"Yes," EJ shouted anxiously over the thrum of the engines. "Why?"
"Sergeant Gibbs served with my father during Operation Desert Storm. My father was captain of a Marine company and Gibbs was a sniper under his command. He saved my father's life."
EJ stood stark still. For a few seconds Weston was speechless and those moments seemed to drag on forever as her stomach churned, the trembling moving from her hands all the way through her body. She watched the Marine, praying about his next move.
"Get in, Ma'am," he motioned for EJ to step in front of him and into the helicopter.
Her heart skipped a beat as relief coursed through her. "Thank you, Sergeant," she choked out as she climbed in.
"We're taking him to Madigan Army Medical Center, in Tacoma," Weston shouted back at Bishop and McGee from the open door as the helicopter began it's slow ascent.
Time ceased to exist for EJ during the twenty minute flight to the hospital. One minute she had ensconced herself next to Gibbs after the medics completed hooking him up to various monitors and machines; watching their readouts and listening to their beeps and clicks and whirrs. The next minute her feet hit the landing pad, following the medics as they transferred Gibbs to a gurney and rushed him into the hospital through large double glass doors that opened to swallow them up and then slid silently shut behind her.
Once inside the three Marine corpsmen turned over their charge to the hospital's emergency trauma team. They started to wheel Gibbs down the hallway, EJ following closely. Quickly she turned and smiled back at Weston. "I don't know how to thank you, Sergeant," she said.
"Just help that old jarhead get better, Ma'am," he replied. "And tell him 'Semper Fi', from Frank Weston's kid." He snapped to attention and gave her a quick salute, then turned on his heel and headed out the door, the other two corpsmen right behind him.
She followed the gurney down one corridor, and then another, and then another, until finally it stopped in front of a large set of wooden double doors with a sign mounted above that read 'Critical Care Unit.' As the doors opened and the gurney was pushed inside EJ stepped forward to follow, only to find a very large and very imposing older man dressed in green medical scrubs blocking her way. The photo badge hanging at the end of a lanyard draped around his neck identified him as a charge nurse for this unit and his name was Flynn. She looked past Flynn at the gurney going through the doors and began to step around the large man, but he side-stepped and continued to block her way. Anticipating a knock-down, dragged-out battle to be able to stay with Gibbs she planted her feet and squared her shoulders.
EJ glared up into the nurse's face, ready for a fight, but found something completely different when her eyes met his. Despite his imposing size Flynn's eyes were soft, his face compassionate, almost fatherly. He looked down at her and there was something knowing in his face. She stood, motionless, not understanding her reaction. Speech failed her as she sputtered.
"You must be Agent Barrett," Flynn said, his voice as gentle as his expression, with a slight Irish brogue.
EJ nodded, her mind still spinning at the contradiction of this man. "How …, how do you know who I am?" she managed to squeeze out.
"Sergeant Weston radioed ahead. I've known him a long time. He's a good lad. He told me to take good care of Sergeant Gibbs …, and you, too."
"Oh," was all EJ could muster.
"Lass," he said, his brogue a bit thicker now, "there's nothing you can do for him right now. What say we let the doc's do what they do best."
EJ turned her attention to the floor. Bringing her hands together she started nervously kneading her fingers.
"You must love him a lot, Dear," Flynn said, stepping closer to EJ.
She swallowed hard and nodded, the telltale burning in her eyes announcing that tears had once again arrived. She wiped her cheek with her sleeve.
Closing the distance Flynn wrapped one huge arm around EJ and pulled her into him. She clutched at his scrub top and cursed the return of the trembling she had been fighting off and on all day.
For a brief moment in time Gibbs had come back to her; she had held him, touched him, told him how much she loved him. But it had been a hollow reunion, as an unconscious and near death Gibbs could not return her whispers of love or her soft caresses. She ached to look into his blue eyes, to feel his fingers squeeze her hand, to touch his lips with hers. But now that chance might have vanished before it had even become real again.
"Come on, Darlin'," he smiled down at her. "Let's get you settled in the waiting room. You need some water. And a skinny little thing like you could probably use something to eat as well."
She nodded and was surprised when she let out a choked chuckle. This man understood. He obviously knew about love and family and pain and grief. She was thankful that right now, in this place and in this time, she had been blessed with someone she could trust.
Still holding tightly to the huge man she walked with him down the hall and into the waiting room. Fear clutched at her chest. She was powerless. Gibbs life was hanging in the balance and there was nothing she could do. Nothing, but wait.
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