I open my eyes, my ears ringing painfully. I am on the grey carpet of the bullpen. From where I'm laying I can see clouds of smoke billowing around me. I lift my head a few inches from the ground, to see more. The bullpen is smoldering and the entire wall that had windows in it is gone. The wind coming in is whipping burning papers through the air.
Some of my blood, from a cut on my forehead, drips to the floor. Part of the staircase has collapsed, and most of the cubicles are piles of debris.
Slowly, I push myself onto my hands and knees, pain shooting through my ribs, and the blood on my forehead drips into my right eye.
I use the remains of McGee's desk to push myself to my feet, gritting my teeth.
I see Ducky on the floor a few feet in front of me, and stumble to him.
His left arm is bent at a weird angle and there's shattered glass and shrapnel on him, leaving little slices.
I nudge him with my foot, but he doesn't awaken. I see his chest rise and fall with breaths.
I continue forward, catching sight of Abby, splayed out on the floor.
I am about to go to her when I hear a muffled
"Tony!"
I crane my head around to see McGee, struggling to stand up, and catch sight of a large piece of shrapnel sticking out of his stomach.
I hurry over, and make him stop moving, his adrenaline is negating the pain he should feel and his movements are making his condition worse.
I sit him down in the nearest desk chair, Gibbs'.
"Stay here." I say, firmly. He nods.
I turn and see Gibbs on his feet, covered in cuts and scrapes, with a bad burn on his left leg.
"Dinozzo!" I watch his mouth move, but it's getting harder to stand.
I fall to the floor as men and women in hospital uniforms run in, and I let the dizziness consumes me.
When I awaken, I'm on a stretcher inside of an ambulance. Across from me are two other ambulances. One has Ducky, who's awake, his arm casted, and chatting with Abby, who is asleep, but looking healthy. The other ambulance has McGee, whose stomach is bandaged, but he's out cold, and Gibbs who is talking with a paramedic.
I turn to look next to me, and see an empty stretcher, and panic fills me.
Where is Kate?
I heave myself to my feet and stumble back to the NCIS building, wading through the chaos. I trip up the stairs to the bullpen, paramedics everywhere, along with another federal agency.
"Kate!" I scream "Kate!"
I totter over to a huge pile of rubble where I last saw Kate.
I kneel beside it, not feeling the pain I know should be in my ribcage. I dig through it, frantically.
The paramedics try to pull me away, but I become hysterical when her wrist appears.
I barely register a paramedic yelling that there was a sixth person.
"Kate!" I scream again.
When they remove the rubble, I free myself from the man holding me and throw myself onto my knees beside her.
I press my hand to her bloody and dusty cheek, my other hand is laying on her stomach, where I feel the firm swelling of her – our – unborn child.
Only then do I start to cry.
