Shot To Hell by ceilidh

A/N:- Aw, more reviews – thank you!

Okay, this is where the 'medical stuff' comes in. I've researched it as much as I can, but like I said before, I'm not a doctor – just an evil fanfic writer! Seriously, if it's too inaccurate, any advice on the medical stuff would be a great help, so I can work it in and re-submit this chapter.

Thanks as always, and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Four – Descent Into Hell

At her normal, long legged pace, Abby knew there were three hundred and sixty five steps to his desk. But at an all-out, panic fuelled run - damn it, what did it matter? What the hell did she care?

All she cared about right now was reaching her precious Timmy, to be there for him this time, to tell him how sorry she was, and –

– and the expression on Gibbs' face, the urgency in his voice, stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Abby, no! You don't want to see this, just – just stay back."

She couldn't argue, not against that. No-one, not even her, would dare to defy that voice. Instead, Abby stood behind Ziva's desk-screen, helplessly watching Ducky and Jimmy rush past her – the shock on their faces alone, snatches of urgent questions and shaken answers, telling her all she needed to know.

Whatever had caused Tim McGee to collapse, and made Gibbs order her to stay back… yes, it was bad.

"What happened, Jeth-? No, Tony, keep him on his side, we've got to keep his airway clear-"

"I don't know, Duck, he was down when I got here, and - damn it, Ducky, what the hell is it?"

"Anaphylaxis, Jethro. Timothy's suffered a severe allergic reaction, and - adrenalin, Mr Palmer. And oxygen. Quickly!"

"I – I was just razzing him, boss… that CD, it – it was just a joke-"

"There was something wrong before that, Tony, he was ill, his movements were… not right-"

"Yes, Ziva, I know, he came down to me earlier, and he was clearly unwell then, but he- well, he… uh-"

Backed into an awkward corner, Ducky then breathed a sigh of relief as its escape route arrived.

For him, for Abby, and for Timothy McGee especially, those EMTs couldn't have timed it better – his quiet run-down as much for Abby's benefit as the paramedics who now set to work beside him.

"I'm Dr Mallard, the ME here. He's gone into anaphylactic shock, possibly from a set of inoculations. He was mauled by a dog earlier today, and those wounds have also re-opened as he's fallen.

Temp's one zero two, still rising. BP's hundred over seventy, heart-rate raised, but holding steady. I've given him adrenalin, and his breathing's certainly easier, but- well, it's still very laboured. He's also been sick, three times now, and… oh, dear, that's, um… four-"

Wincing suitably in response, the senior EMT nodded, glancing expectantly into four anxious faces

"Okay, doctor, we'll take it from here," the senior EMT nodded, glancing expectantly back at him.

"What's his name?"

He was expecting just one, of course. To his surprise, he received three in a quiet, anxious chorus.

"Timothy-"

"T – Timmy-"

"McGee-"

Seeing the paramedic's reaction to this three-way flurry of answers, Gibbs almost smiled too – silently vowing to use it a damn sight more himself now as he added a soft, guiltily awkward fourth

"Tim, he… uh, prefers Tim"

Clearly used to dealing with anxious relatives, if not multi-named casualties, the EMT smiled back – easing at least some of the tension and worry around him as he tried to gently rouse his latest patient.

"Okay, Tim it is. Tim? I'm Jeff, I'm an EMT and- Tim? Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand?"

In anxious silence, everyone in that room was watching, and listening, for some kind of response. All they saw and heard instead was more laboured retching, Tony Dinozzo's stricken wince, and Jeff's voice again – still calm, with the unique skill of his profession, but betraying the disappointment all of them felt.

"Okay, Tim, let's get you more comfortable here. Ben, start another IV. Full bore, wide open-"

From where he knelt, still cradling Tim in his arms, Tony watched the two EMTs work in rare silence – fear, frustration and guilt finally breaking it as McGee continued to shake violently against him.

"Can't you do any more to – to make this stop?"

"Not 'til we know what's causing this reaction, sir. We could make it worse," Jeff explained gently – offering Tony a calm smile which held no resentment, only reassurance, as he nodded to his partner.

"Okay, Ben, we've got him as stable as we're gonna get, let's get him to Bethesda-"

Watching his youngest agent being lifted, so gently, onto a waiting gurney, Gibbs swallowed hard – the worry he always felt for his team, but never showed, openly there now as he turned to Ducky.

"Go with him, Duck, We'll be right behind you"

Dryly certain that Gibbs would get there first, Ducky nodded and followed the EMTs to the elevator – offering Abby a brief smile, what little comfort he could, as Tim's gurney was wheeled gently past her

Except there was no comfort. Instead, Abby stared down at his now silent, lifeless form in complete horror. All she could see around him were wires, and tubes, and -

- oh, dear God, there was one in his throat too! He had an ugly tube taped into his throat. Without it, if that tube wasn't there, to help him breathe, he'd be -

- her precious, irreplaceable Timmy would be -

Abby closed her eyes, as if to keep that unthinkable thought behind them. By the time she opened them again, still helplessly whispering his name, he was gone.

Within minutes, he was on his way – taking the fastest trip to Bethesda that he'd ever experienced. Following them, with practised ease, Gibbs then glanced across at two ashen, shell-shocked faces.

Beside him, and behind him, two unnaturally silent passengers sat stricken by their consciences – all three offering a silent prayer as Tim McGee's ambulance rocketed on towards Bethesda Hospital.