Purgatory

Chapter 23 – Recovery

Gibbs first noticed the dull, pulsing pain behind his eyes. There was light coming from somewhere, but he couldn't see anything and then realized his eyes were closed. Murky visions surfaced of hands battering against him, pain lashing through his body, cold concrete underneath. He stiffened as panic coalesced inside him, fear clawing at his mind.

Forcing himself to calm he took inventory of his situation. He was pleasantly warm instead of bitterly cold. The surface beneath him was soft, not the hard concrete he had become used to. And the pain was present, but it lingered in the background, not the overwhelming force he had known for so long.

Struggling to clear his mind he focused his attention on opening his eyes. Through force of will he managed to raise one eye lid, then the other. Blurred light and shapes danced in front of him, causing his stomach to lurch, nausea pushing at his throat. He pulled his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath to quell his rebelling stomach.

Risking a second look he pried his eyes open again. This time his stomach fought only half as hard against him as his vision began to focus, forcing the blurred images into sharper detail. Only a moment passed before he recognized his surroundings. The familiar smell and sounds of a medical facility filled his nose and ears. Hospitals and infirmaries were not foreign territory for Gibbs, having visited them many times as a patient, family member and Marine.

He risked making his headache worse by turning his head to survey the room. Immediately he recognized McGee, sitting off to the side, engrossed in his tablet computer. He tried to speak, but only a dry, strangled gurgle came from his lips. It was enough to catch McGee's attention as the agent's head jerked up, looking toward Gibbs. McGee's mouth dropped open and his eyes bulged as he jumped up and rushed over to the bed.

"Boss!" he gasped. "You're alive …, I mean …, ah …, you're awake." Gibbs saw the wetness in McGee's eyes. "God, it's so good to see you, Boss. Ah …, what do you need? Can I get you anything?"

Still unable to speak, his lips, mouth and throat as dry as the Sahara, he licked his lips and moved his gaze to the pitcher of water on the table next to the bed. McGee got the message. Rushing around to the table he poured water into cup and inserted a straw, holding it up to Gibbs' mouth. He moaned with relief as the cool liquid washed over his cracked lips, soothing his parched mouth and throat.

"Not too much," McGee said. "Just a couple of sips."

Gibbs nodded and released the straw from his lips. His mouth and throat somewhat lubricated, he attempted to speak again.

"Where …?" his voice was a hoarse whisper.

"We're in the Madigan Army Medical Center at Fort Lewis, in Tacoma," McGee responded.

"How …?" he whispered again.

"We got your message painted on the boat seat. We figured it out. Raided the house and found you."

"When …?"

"About 18 hours ago," McGee said.

Gibbs nodded, the pain in his head growing with each passing minute.

"Rathburn?" Gibbs breathed out.

"We caught him, Boss. Figured out his plan and stopped it. No one got hurt."

At McGee's last statement Gibbs turned his head to the side, staring off into the corner of the room. No one got hurt, he thought. No one, except EJ.

EJ had paid the ultimate price. She was dead and it was his fault. Just like Kate Todd had died over a decade ago. Just like he hadn't protected Kate then, he had failed to protect EJ now. Physical pain dulled as his emotions swelled. His eyes squinted as he struggled against the raw, jagged grief devouring what little Rathburn had left of him. Despair enveloped him as his grief battled for release.

Rathburn had won after all, beating his body and soul into oblivion. He was broken now, a hollow shell, nothing left inside and nothing left to live for. He would never walk again in the world without the searing pain of his failure. Every familiar place would remind him of her, fueling a never ending guilt. Every friend, every colleague - all would know it was his fault a monster had ripped her throat out and devoured her. He wouldn't survive that; couldn't live with that pain. EJ didn't deserve to die. But he did. He was a coward, one to which the world owned nothing.

He shuddered, pushing his head back against his pillow. Yes, he truly was a coward. A coward for avoiding the one thing he wanted most in life. A coward for letting fear control him. A coward for not committing ultimately to her. Ducky knew. Ducky had told him of his rare fortune – of having two true loves in his lifetime; first Shannon and then, EJ. And he did love her. He had changed for her – for them. But time was fickle and short and unforgiving. His time with her had run out, recklessly squandered away by his fear.

Gibbs squeezed his eyes shut, his body too parched to surrender even a single drop of moisture. Rathburn had taken everything from him, even his tears.

McGee sputtered, "Boss, are you OK?"

McGee's quiet question pierced his ears. Gathering his self-control he prepared a platitude to relieve McGee of his fears. But the sound of a sharp breath followed by a heavy, shuddering gasp interrupted him.

"Oh, my God. Jethro!"

Grimacing in pain he struggled to turn toward the voice, desperately wanting to believe his ears, but terrified his guilt had finally destroyed his mind. Seconds ticked by as his eyes ached, trying to focus. Then his vision cleared to find EJ standing in the doorway, frozen, a myriad of emotions flashing across her face. Their eyes locked and his weakened body trembled, overwhelmed with disbelief. She was alive.

EJ rushed to his side, crashing down over him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, burying her face into his neck. Thick sobs wrenched at her body, shaking them both. He struggled to sit up as sharp, jolting pain surged through every part of his body. Slowly he brought his arms up and around her, pulling her to him with what little strength remained.

His mind spun. She was alive. But what about the news stories and the TV report and her locket? She was supposed to be dead. But she was alive. Disbelief faded as her touch and smell and the wetness of her tears convinced him she was real. And she was in his arms, once again.

Time disappeared as their embrace continued, desperate and fierce, neither willing to let go. After a while EJ's sobs quieted and she relaxed her grip enough to move her mouth to his ear, her voice shaking, "I thought you were dead. But you came back to me. " Her voice choked again with emotion, "I love you, so much!" She buried her face back into his neck.

In spite of the pain searing through his body, Gibbs pulled her closer. "They told me they killed you," his voice cracked as he choked down the emotion threatening to burst out. "They showed me things. They gave me your locket. I …, I didn't want to go on." His body started to shake and he felt EJ tighten her grip around him, anchoring him to her. Anchoring them to each other.

"Bastards," she cursed into his neck. She pulled her head back to look at him, reaching up with both hands to cup his face. "I'm here, Jethro."

Gently she pulled one of his arms from around her, grasping his hand and guiding it to the locket dangling by her throat.

"See," she said.

His fingers gently caressed the delicate white rose and the smooth silver edge. "How did you get this?" he asked, surprised and elated to see it around her neck.

"You had it when we found you," she replied. "Your fist was wrapped around it. Tight! You never let it go, Jethro. You never let me go."

Her eyes touched his, the love reflected in them, undeniable. She pulled his lips to hers, visiting a soft kiss and then tilted her forehead, touching his.

"We're gonna make it," she whispered. "We …, you and I …, together!"

Gibbs sighed, "you got that right, Munchkin."

She let out a half-hearted scoff at the nickname and pushed her lips back to his for another fleeting kiss.

"Ahem," McGee cleared his throat, bringing their attention back to the room.

Where McGee had been standing earlier – Gibbs couldn't estimate how long ago that had been – were two new visitors. One very large, redheaded man in green scrubs and a short, dark haired man in a white lab coat. Gibbs surmised the former was a nurse and the later, a doctor.

"Boss," McGee said.

"Not your boss any more, McGee," Gibbs managed to croak back.

"Boss," McGee continued, undaunted, "this is the charge nurse, Ryan Flynn and this is your doctor, Colonel Ritchie," he said, pointing at each man respectively.

Gibbs managed a weak nod as EJ moved to sit on the side of the bed, never letting go of Gibbs' hand.

"Sergeant," Ritchie said, "you gave us quite a scare."

Gibbs looked at the doctor and frowned. "Not a Marine any more, Doc."

A loud laugh burst forth from Flynn, startling Gibbs, making him pull back a little in surprise. Gibbs looked from Ritchie, to Flynn and then back to Ritchie.

"You tell him," Ritchie said to Flynn.

"You're in an Army medical center, Sir," Flynn said. "And you're a veteran and a patriot. We wouldn't do you any less honor than to refer to you by your rank, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs." Flynn's face beamed, his eyes shifting back and forth between EJ and Gibbs.

"Oh," Flynn said as an afterthought. "Like Agent McGee said, name's Ryan Flynn. Pleasure to meet ya," his brogue was strong now. "Been waitin' to meet the lucky beggar that captured the heart of this amazing lass," he nodded his head toward EJ. "From one old dog to the other, I'm guessin' you know how lucky ya are." Flynn smiled and winked at EJ, then turned a serious face back to Gibbs.

Gibbs managed a smirk as he looked from Flynn to EJ who blushed bright red, her lips turning upward in a smile that made him forget about the nagging pain lingering throughout his body.

Gibbs looked back at Flynn. "Got a good idea," he rasped out.

"That's good," was all Flynn said in return.

"Agent Barrett," the doctor interjected, "may I impose and have a few minutes with Sergeant Gibbs alone. Now that he's awake I need to perform an examination and schedule some tests."

EJ looked at Gibbs. He saw the quick flash of fear on her face and felt her hand tense around his. "It's OK, Erica," he said. "Not going anywhere – least not without you."

Her face calmed and her hand relaxed. She leaned down, giving him another soft kiss. He managed a weak squeeze of her hand as she hopped off the bed and she and McGee left the room, but not before giving Gibbs one last, longing glance over her shoulder.

Doctor Ritchie's prognosis was for a full recovery, albeit a long, slow and painful process. The following two weeks in the hospital moved by at a snail's pace, which suited EJ just fine. After months agonizing over his death she was elated for any situation where he was not out of her sight, especially now that he was recovering.

Two days after Gibbs' rescue and MEDVAC flight to the hospital Director Craig had called both McGee and Bishop back to DC to close-out the Bangor case. Rathburn's planned terrorist attack on a nuclear warhead using a stolen army anti-tank missile had moved the case up to the forefront of interest for not just the Navy, but for the Army and Homeland Security as well. The FBI also wanted in the loop, given that Gibbs – a civilian – had been kidnapped and transported across state lines.

Thinking Director Craig would also make her return she had readied herself to battle with him, and if he was unrelenting, resign her position. Nothing would keep her from Gibbs' side now that she had found him. Surprisingly, Craig had informed the SecNav's office he had assigned EJ to a special security and protection detail, guarding one retired NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Although Rathburn and his men were in custody, Craig argued to the SecNav a chance still existed that an unknown accomplice might attempt to silence Gibbs once and for all and there was no better strategy for protection than leaving him in the hospital, in the middle of an Army base, with an experienced NCIS agent on guard. EJ knew the likelihood of such an attack was minimal and that the director knew she would not leave Gibbs. He had made this arrangement to avoid an unnecessary conflict, knowing that staying with Gibbs was what both she and Gibbs needed. Once again, Craig had proved to her his staunch ability to make tough decisions - as he had when he refused her request to mount a rescue - while exercising his compassion and support for his people by letting her stay with Gibbs as long as necessary.

The first night after Gibbs regained consciousness EJ's exhaustion was prevalent and when prompted by McGee, Flynn and even Ritchie, to retreat to a guest room and sleep, she had vehemently refused. Flynn - remembering it would be a cold day in hell before any of them could persuade her to leave Gibbs - had a cot setup in Gibbs' room. Relieved she could stay close to Gibbs she opened herself to rest and was rewarded by sleep free from the terror of nightmares which had haunted her for months.

Gibbs spent most of the first week in a slight haze caused by the pain medication, drifting in and out of sleep as his body strived to mend itself. She spent every waking moment by his side, holding his hand, rubbing his arm, watching him sleep, content just to be close to him, to touch him. Her heart swelled with pride that it was she – no one else - who was his guardian, the sentry protecting him from the outside world, as she maintained her vigil at his bedside.

The second week brought longer and longer bouts of consciousness as the doctor reduced pain medication while his body's healing progressed slowly. With his ability to think coherently restored, they spent many hours talking as EJ slowly went over the past three months since his kidnapping and imprisonment. She was careful not to overwhelm him with the details of her personal struggle. But she could see in his eyes he knew. Of course he knew. He, more than anyone else, knew exactly the pain and despair she had experienced, even if it went unsaid between them.

He didn't offer any information about his captivity and torture, nor did she broach the subject. His body was a testament to that horrific experience and she knew he would tell her on his own terms and in his own time.

As she spent time with Gibbs EJ's thoughts often turned to her conversation with Flynn about her needing to take the initiative if she and Gibbs were going to take their relationship to the next level. She wanted that – no doubt lingered in her mind. She had waited for ten years – perhaps not intentionally – but she had waited. Waited for him. Never meeting anyone who even remotely felt as much a part of her as Gibbs. From the moment they met they knew each other. And throughout the years she never felt with anyone else the way she had felt with him.

She told herself she had delayed talking about their future so as not to upset him, to allow him time to heal without imposing extra stress. But part of her knew that fear fueled her hesitation. Fear that he wouldn't feel the same, that he wasn't yet ready. Fear that if she forced the issue it might push him away, something she was unwilling to risk. But at the same time she was unwilling to continue as before.

She thought back to six months prior and the terror she felt when she had gone to Gibbs' home and told him she still loved him and wanted him back in her life. She had said she was 'all-in' and if that wasn't enough for him, she'd understand. It had been enough for him. He had come for her, snatching her from the bowels of a transport plane just moments before she would have flown back to Spain and out of his life forever. He did love her – as much as she loved him.

But Rathburn had changed everything. Rathburn had dredged up a fear in Gibbs he had spent decades overcoming. If Flynn was right – that Gibbs was afraid of hurting her – then this brush with death could only have resurrected that fear. Yes, they knew each other. He would know his death would devastate her. She was certain he had seen as much in her eyes as they danced around that exact issue during the past two weeks, because it had proved more difficult to hide her emotions from him than she had anticipated. He knew the excruciating pain of loosing a spouse for whom he had cared deeply and he would not want for her to experience that pain and suffering. Where the fear of loosing him made her heart ache for the culmination of their relationship, she knew the exact same fear would probably motivate Gibbs to avoid taking their relationship further in his effort to protect her should she ever lose him.

Over the past week she had ruminated over and over about what to do. Pushing Gibbs might turn him away in his misguided belief that he would be protecting her. He had done this to them before, ten years ago in Hawaii, and there was a serious risk he might do it again. But continuing on as they had was killing her inside. She wanted more and with each passing day the need inside her grew, along with the ache of its denial. She knew she needed to talk with him soon and that any conversation would shape the rest of their lives, either together, or apart.

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