Purgatory

Chapter 22 – Regret

EJ woke to movement and a rustling sound close to her. Opening sleep filled eyes, her vision blurry, she tried to focus. Disoriented for a moment, her vision cleared and she recognized the hospital bed in front of her and noticed the indentation on the side of the bedspread where her head had been just a moment before, obviously having fallen asleep in her chair next to Gibbs' bed. She looked up and saw Gibbs laying there, his chest rising and falling slowly. Looking to the other side of the bed Doctor Ritchie came into view, checking IV's and monitor leads attached to Gibbs and making notes on a clipboard. Pulling her head away from the mattress she sat up and raised her arms high over her head, stretching her shoulders and back which ached from her awkward sleeping position.

The doctor looked over as she moved. "I'm sorry I woke you," he said.

She yawned and shook her head, dismissing his apology, "That's alright." She checked her watch. It was just after 3 am. Looking up at Ritchie anxiously, she asked, "How is he, Doctor?"

"Doing quite well, actually," Ritchie smiled. "Once we stabilized him his body started to respond to treatment. Organ failure was our immediate concern. His renal system seems to be recovering now. He's a tough old Marine, Agent Barrett. He hasn't stop fighting."

EJ nodded, releasing a long sigh, a half-smile on her face. She looked down at her hands realizing she had been kneading her fingers, a nervous habit she had acquired years before. Relieved by the doctor's report her shoulders relaxed and she slumped back into her chair.

"What now?" she asked.

"It's still touch and go," her responded. "But if he continues to improve, his body should recover fully."

"How long do you think he'll be unconscious?"

"The pain medication keeps him under. I'm starting to back that off now. I image he'll wake up sometime in mid-morning."

He turned to face her, his head tilted down as he looked at her over the top of his glasses. His serious expression made it clear he had more to tell her and a whisper of fear floated over her.

"He almost died, Agent Barrett. It will take a while for his body to heal." He cleared his throat and sighed, looking down at the clipboard in his hand. "But it will take a lot longer for his mind to heal after that kind of torture." He looked back up at her. "He'll need you more than he has ever needed anyone in his life."

EJ swallowed hard past the lump in her throat and looked down again at her hands, nodding her understanding.

The doctor continued, "I've seen his medical records and a large portion of his service records. Sergeant Gibbs is a tough son-of-a-bitch. And, he's a loaner. Does things his way. Definitely a Marine!"

She brought her gaze back to meet Ritchie's, knowing a 'but' was coming next.

"But," he said, "this is one mission he can't complete on his own. Can you handle this, Agent Barrett?"

She knew his question was a courtesy to her, but anger still flared and her gaze turned into a hard stare. "I told myself I was going to find him and that we were either going to live together or die together," she pressed out. She looked down at Gibbs' still form. "I found him. We're both alive. I guess that's your answer."

He nodded, his frown disappearing, a satisfied look of approval on his face. "Good," he said. "I expected nothing less."

Ritchie looked thoughtful for a moment, then continued, "You would have made a good soldier, Agent Barrett. Army fatigues would have suited you well."

Understanding his statement for the compliment it was EJ turned back to the Colonel, smiled and nodded her appreciation, words unnecessary.

"I'll be back around noon," he said. "You should get some sleep."

"I slept," EJ said, setting her jaw, ready to debate whether or not she should leave Gibbs' side.

Ritchie opened his mouth to speak, paused, then changed his mind. Instead, he nodded without protest, obviously reading her posture and expression correctly.

"Good night, Agent Barrett," he said as he walked past EJ and out the door.

"Thank you, Doctor," she replied after him.

EJ drifted in and out sleep the rest of the night, sitting in the chair beside Gibbs' bed, her hand on top his, listening to the various machines latched onto him like parasites. As the morning sun's rays filtered into the hospital room she opened her eyes, stretched and yawned, scrubbed a hand across her face and flipped her ponytail behind her shoulders. Although fitful, her sleep had been without nightmares and she felt more rested than she had in several days.

Her chair sat lower than Gibbs' bed, allowing her to scoot over and lean her chin on the mattress as she reached up and put her left hand on top of his, lacing their fingers together. Watching the slow rise and fall of his chest lulled her into a hypnotic state, her thoughts flowing from visions of the future to memories of the past. She could see a future with Gibbs, a future she wanted without any doubt. And while her memories of their relationship were warm, one specific regret haunted her.

Gibbs was a traditionalist. His age, growing up in a small Pennsylvania town, being a Marine, working in law enforcement, all those factors combined to forge a man who was fiercely loyal, caring to the point of self-sacrifice and with an unshakable commitment to right and wrong. And when it came to their rekindled relationship - he was slow.

He wanted to take things slow. Courting – no other word better described Gibbs' approach to their relationship - was important to him, a sign of respect and devotion. However, courting was not part of EJ's generation, at least, it didn't mean the same thing to her as it did to him. Out of respect for him she had dedicated herself to move forward in their relationship at his pace. But now, with him laying in front of her, barely retreating from the edge of death, she looked at their intertwined left hands and her heart ached with regret at the absence of the two rings which should be on their fingers. She cursed under her breath at her cowardice.

Tears welled in her eyes. She was tired of tears. There had been too many, too often and she was getting fed-up with her crying jags. She let out another curse at her tears.

"Well, I'll tell you one thing, Lass," Flynn's soft voice startled her and she turned to see him standing in the doorway, "you may be a wee thing, but you can cuss like a rogue with a belly full a beer!" His smile was warm and broad.

EJ chuckled and sat back in her chair.

"Mind some company, Darlin'?" the Irishman asked.

She grinned up at him. "I'd love some company."

Flynn, always the nurse, pulled up a chair in front of her so he could see both EJ and the various monitor readouts.

"So," Flynn said, his eyes twinkled mischievously, "when's the date?"

"Huh?" EJ asked, puzzled.

"Doctor Ritchie says there may be a shot-gun wedding soon. That you're gonna force Sergeant Gibbs to make an honest woman out of ya."

EJ let out a laugh. She truly appreciated this man and his brash intrusiveness only made her like and trust him more.

"We'll have to see what happens," she said.

"So, I'm guessing - given the Sergeant is a wee bit older than you - he's been married before?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. Four times, actually."

"Oh …," Flynn drew out the word, his expression thoughtful. "And you?"

"Never been married."

"That's hard to believe, a pretty lass like you!"

"Yeah, well …," she said dismissively.

"Mind me asking how the two of you got together?"

For the next twenty minutes EJ shared her and Gibbs' story. She explained how they met, fell in love and were then torn apart. She recounted Gibbs' four marriages and three divorces. She remembered her years of longing and denial, culminating with how fate had brought them back together just six months ago. As she finished relief swept over her, pushing aside the heavy weight of the past several days.

Flynn sat and thought for a few moments, a pensive look on his face. "Lass, would you care for a wee bit of advice from a man of advanced maturity?" he smirked at EJ.

She chuckled. "Fire away."

Flynn scrunched his brow and his smile faded. His face turned thoughtful, his tone soft, but serious. "Ya know …," he said, "old dogs like me and the sergeant ..., well ..., time and experience beats us up pretty bad sometimes. We can get a little gun-shy, if you know what I mean."

"I know Gibbs is afraid of getting married again and making another mistake," EJ huffed out. "But he's not …," she stuttered. "I won't …," she paused again, obviously flustered. "I would never hurt him."

Flynn's warm smile returned and he shook his head. "Darlin', I've been around long enough to know from the story you told me that with wives number two through four the sergeant was running away - running from something."

"Ok," EJ said, tentatively, not quite following Flynn's train of thought.

"Oh, Lass," Flynn sighed, "this time around it's different for the sergeant. He's not running from something this time. This time he's running to something. He's running to you. That's quite a big difference for the old dog."

"So?" EJ said, still confused.

"He's not afraid of being hurt again, as much as he's afraid of hurting you. Every time his eyes find that locket around your neck it reminds him of the promise he made to you, and it scares him silly."

"Oh," she said, finally understanding Flynn's point. She paused, considering the unlikely romantic before her. "How do you know all this?"

"Like I said, Lass, I'm an old dog - like the sergeant. We've walked many of the same paths from what you tell me. Trust me, Lass, this man loves you. But if you want to get things movin' along you may have to reach out and put a boot in his ass …," he paused, a slight flush of embarrassment tinging his cheeks, "Ah … pardon my language, Dear."

EJ continued to stare at the man, seeing the truth of his wisdom. If her relationship with Gibbs was going to move to the next level, if they were going to make a permanent commitment to each other, she couldn't wait for him to propose. Otherwise it might take years. And she was unwilling, especially after the grief and fear of the past three months, to spend one minute longer than necessary without that ring on his finger.

She nodded at Flynn. "You're right! I'm done waiting. We're done waiting. If I could get to a drugstore I'd buy a 25 cent plastic ring and hang it on his finger - and if he gave me any backtalk, I'd force it down his throat!" she huffed out a laugh.

"Now you're talking, Lass!" he said, echoing her laugh.

EJ arched an eyebrow, feeling a sly smile pull at the corners of her mouth as she captured his eyes with hers. "Are you sure you're not Cupid in disguise?"

He looked down at his huge frame, then looked back up at EJ and scoffed. "Not likely, Dear. Don't think there's wings strong enough to get this old tub off the ground."

EJ stood, stepped across and leaned down to kiss Flynn on his cheek, whispering in his ear, "Well, you're my Cupid." Pulling back she saw his face flare scarlet red.

She looked over at Gibbs and sighed. "He's gonna get better. He has to. And when he does …, well …, I'll have my boots ready."

"That's my girl!" Flynn snorted, a grin stretching across his face.

They both turned toward the door as the sound of knocking reached their ears. His knuckles resting on the door frame, McGee smiled at them. EJ motioned for him to enter and he stepped over to them, but kept his gaze on the still form lying in the bed. "How's he doing?" he asked.

EJ responded, "Doctor Ritchie says he's doing OK. Expects he'll wake up sometime this morning."

McGee looked at EJ, surprised. "That's really great news!"

She nodded.

"EJ, why don't you go and get some sleep?" McGee said. "I've had about six hours and feel OK. I can take over here."

"I slept," she said, assuming the same posture that had won this battle with the doctor hours earlier.

But McGee was not the doctor and he persisted. "You couldn't have slept much sitting here and it probably wasn't good sleep. The hospital has a couple of small guest rooms with beds. They're not the most comfortable, but after about two minutes I was out like a light and didn't know the difference. Go on, I've got this."

"Thanks, Tim, but I'm OK."

"EJ," his voice had shifted into a pleading whine, "you've got to get some rest."

She really liked McGee and appreciated his concern for her, but he was about to cross the line with his nagging and she could feel her self-control slipping. She gritted her teeth, "I said I'm fine, McGee."

"But ...," he started to reply.

Flynn cut him off. "You are a fine lad, McGee, but a bit slow on the up-take," he chuckled softly.

"Huh?" McGee grunted back.

"Lad, have you heard the saying, 'a cold day in hell'?" Flynn quickly looked over at EJ as he finished the sentence. "Opps. Sorry again for the language, Dear."

EJ just smirked back.

"What?" McGee replied, not understanding the big man's point.

"That's the kind of day it'll be when this lass walks out of this room against her will," Flynn finished.

"Oh ...," McGee paused, obviously catching on.

McGee changed his tactics. "Well, at least go grab something to eat in the mess and take a shower. It'll make you feel better. We're only talking about an hour and I'll be here the whole time."

EJ paused and hummed to herself for a moment, pondering McGee's proposal. A shower would feel good. The grim and sweat from the previous day still clung to her. And her stomach had been periodically protesting the length of time since her last meal with various gurgles and growls.

"OK," she said. "I'll be back in less than an hour. You call me if anything changes. You got that, McGee?" the seriousness of her tone was unmistakable.

"Copy that," McGee responded. "I will call you if anything changes," he reaffirmed her instructions.

"Alright. I'll be back." She stood and quirked up one eyebrow staring at Flynn for a moment, then turned her glare upon McGee, the sternness in her expression making it clear she was not to be messed with concerning her wishes. Satisfied both men knew there would be hell to pay if they crossed her, she left, the anticipation of a hot shower and a hot meal raising her spirits.

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