Shot To Hell by ceilidh

A/N:- Yes, I know - I'm a hopeless slushbucket when it comes to Tim and Abby! I can't help it, though, they're just so perfect for each other. So for all you other McAbby fans out there, who want them to kiss and make up, I hope you enjoy this chapter - I certainly enjoyed writing it!

Chapter Thirteen - From Hell Into Hope

When he'd last checked, Tim McGee had counted twenty four healthily solid, if rather ticklish ribs. In a crushing, all-out Abby hug, though… damn, he was sure he'd just heard two of them crack.

"Abs? Abs! Ribs - breathing… kinda important-"

Thank God, he could breathe again, but – no, now she was squeezing his lunch out of his stomach. If she went much lower, and kept snuggling him like this… oh boy, things could get real embarrassing.

Then again, she was practically sharing the bed with him now, her head on his chest, and both arms wrapped right around his waist, so – yeah, they'd kinda gone past embarrassing already.

She needed to hold him, though. After the flashback which had clearly terrified her, she needed this simple, reassuring contact. And until she could bring herself to talk about it, and so much else besides, she just needed to snuggle – letting the sound of his heartbeat convince her that her nightmare, in every sense, was really over.

Knowing better than to rush her, Tim just kept holding her, his free hand soothingly stroking her back – waiting until the pig-tailed head on top of his heart finally lifted, the eyes that met his still wet with tears.

And even though he'd guessed what was coming, its whispered confirmation still silently horrified him.

"You died, Timmy. You – You died-"

He'd almost died, from his own bloody-mindedness, so he'd assumed her nightmare had come from that – hence the puzzled surprise Tim felt now, as Abby reached to shakily touch the gauze dressing on his neck.

It still hurt, of course, but not nearly as much as his arm – and the injury itself wasn't nearly so serious.

Through her nightmare, though, Abby clearly thought otherwise – and it had left her badly shaken. With the utmost care, and holding her reassuringly closer, Tim now gently tried to find out why.

"In – In the attack, Abs? Not from this, but… you – you mean when Jethro attacked me?"

Another shaky nod solved one mystery – but Abby's quiet answer only served to puzzle him with another.

"Ducky was right, Timmy. If – If you hadn't shot Jethro when you did, you could have died-"

Tim stared at that. Ducky? Aside from saving his life, when had Ducky become involved in all th-?

Oh, crap. Of course. That fateful trip to Autopsy. Yeah, how the hell could he have forgotten that?

His next question was obvious. Thankfully, Abby now saved him the trouble of trying to ask it.

"When you left the lab, and – and you were all upset, Ducky, he… well, he – he was kinda mad at me. And – And I know you'd already told me why you'd shot Jethro, that – that it was self defence, but… well, it took Ducky to make me understand why, to – to make me see what could have happened if-"

"I'd let him reach my neck," Tim quietly finished for her, nodding now in almost sad understanding – regret for that desperate act, and everything that happened since, reflected in his next, heartfelt words.

"Abby, I'm sorry. I really didn't want to hurt him, and if – if there'd been any other way, to-"

"No, Timmy, you had to do it!" Abby insisted, with a welcome flash of her familiar loyalty – her priorities changed now, completely reversed by the near tragedy they'd both just been through.

"Timmy, you had to defend yourself. He's just a dog… a – a beautiful dog, but he's not you, Timmy! You're you, and you're an irreplaceable you. You're my Timmy, and I could never face losing that…"

For a clear twenty seconds, Tim McGee was speechless. Then, at last, he smiled back into her eyes.

It had taken a crisis which had almost killed him to make her say those words, but – well, at least he'd heard them. And trust his Abby to take the term 'kiss and make up' to a new, wonderful, then truly sublime level.

It was a moment of rare and precious intimacy, re-building each and every bond between them – one pricelessly ruined now as their shared big brother dropped in, to just 'check' how they were doing.

"Hey, Abs? If you want a ride back, we're about ready t-… aw, jeez, McStud! Find a room!"

Torn between embarrassment and exasperation, Tim glared at his best friend with a mixture of both. Baltimore's finest ex-detective? With those powers of observation? Yeah, right.

"We're already in a room, Tony-"

"Yeah, Tony, and it's a private room. You know, as in private?" Abby agreed, just as vehemently – any further wisecrack that Tony might have dared to make instantly quashed by her familiar, ultimate threat.

"A private room, occupied by a forensic scientist who could kill you and leave no traceable evidence-"

Faced with that thought, and like all the best lieutenants, Tony DiNozzo did the only thing he could.

Leaving wicked laughter behind him, he fled back to the hospital cafeteria to de-brief his boss – hoping that massive mug of coffee would put Jethro Gibbs in a good mood for what he had to report.

"Uh, boss? You… um, you know number twelve?"

"Never date your co-workers? What about it, DiNozzo?"

"Well, I… uh, think McSlushy's forgotten it. Again…"

Gibbs' eyes widened, and for a moment, Di Nozzo felt tempted to run for the nearest safety bunker.

Anyone who dared to break, or simply forget, any of Gibbs' sacred rules was in serious trouble – hence the disbelief he felt as he watched a slow smile of complete delight spread across his boss' face. And if that wasn't enough, he then heard Jethro Gibbs give quiet approval to the seemingly impossible.

"Oh, I hope he has, DiNozzo. I really hope he has-"