-1For the three people who read this, here's chapter two!!! Sorry it took so long. I got stuck about halfway through and ended up going in a different direction than I planned to, 'cause of a random idea I had, so I hope this one works out the way I hope it will. Please review!!

Chapter Two

Gibbs sat in the hard plastic chair, his head in his hands, eyes gazing unblinkingly at his blood-soaked clothing. The ride to the hospital had been long and terrifying; they'd almost lost Abby after they got her into the ambulance, and it had taken the paramedics three tries to get her heart beating sluggishly once more. Breathing was another matter; she hadn't been breathing on her own by the time they'd reached the hospital. They'd told him her lung had probably been punctured by the knife and collapsed; all he knew was that his Abby wasn't breathing when they had rushed her into ER an hour ago.

He knew medically what was wrong. She'd lost too much blood, and was still losing it; her lung had collapsed, and now she wasn't breathing; she had clinically died and then been brought back, but that didn't mean they could keep her there. And he was stuck out here, away from her, where he couldn't even know what was going on.

He heard more than saw Ducky sit down in the chair next to his, sighing heavily. "You haven't even cleaned up yet, Jethro." Gibbs glanced at him, but otherwise didn't respond. "Sitting around worrying won't make time go any faster, you know."

Gibbs sighed, dropping his hands into his lap and leaning back in his chair. "Why haven't we heard anything, Duck?"

"Sometimes no news is good news, Jethro." At Gibbs confused look, he explained, "If we haven't heard anything, then they are still working on her, which means she is still alive."

Gibbs sighed again. "But for how long?" he asked quietly, staring at his blood-stained hands.

Ducky put his hand on Gibbs' shoulder. "Our Abigail is a fighter, Jethro. She won't leave us that easily." He looked at Gibbs for a long moment. "She won't leave you that easily," he added quietly, knowingly.

Gibbs shook his head slightly. "I can't lose her, Ducky. Not like this. I never even told her…" He dropped his head into his hands again.

"She knows, Jethro. She knows. And that's why she won't give up without a fight." Gibbs nodded slightly, trying to take all the comfort from those words he could. "Now, go wash up a bit. If anyone comes with information, I will come get you immediately."

Gibbs gave in, getting to his feet and heading for the restroom. He scrubbed his hands and arms until they were clean of all blood, and then took some paper towels and cleaned his shirt as best he could. Once he'd done all he could in the way of cleaning up, he took a moment to splash some cold water on his face and try to think through the situation. Ducky was right - Abby was a fighter. On top of that, she was damned stubborn. And she hated Chip too much to let him win like this, he thought with a small chuckle. Fourcing his mind to think positively and his heart to beat evenly, he took a deep breath and headed back for the waiting room.

Reaching it, he found that three more chairs were now occupied; Tony, Ziva, and McGee were sitting in a row with Ducky. All four heads snapped up when he walked in. He half-glared at Ziva and McGee. "Who's with Chip?" He knew the man had been brought to the hospital too, for treatment for his gunshot wound, but one of the agents was supposed to stay with him.

"The director put another agent to watch him and made us leave," McGee answered.

"She was afraid I would kill him, I think." Ziva spoke matter-of-factly, as if it was a completely logical and justified fear. It probably was, Gibbs thought with a wry smile, nodding and sitting back down in his chair. Ziva and Abby might not be close, but he knew she felt just as protective of Abby as the rest of the team did.

Silence fell over the room once more; no one could think of anything to say. Tony flipped idly through a magazine, not even attempting to look as if he were reading it; McGee made a hobby of looking at his watch; and Ziva sat straight in her chair, glancing around the room and trying not to fidget. And when the doctor walked into the room ten minutes later, she nearly rivaled Gibbs in who could stand up faster.

The doctor didn't seem intimidated by the five pairs of eyes staring at him; he searched for one man - the one who had come to the hospital with her, the one who she listed as her emergency contact, and thus the one to whom he had to talk. "Mr. Gibbs?"

"How is she?" Gibbs saw no reason for formalities; there was only one thing he cared about learning from this man.

The doctor sighed - never a good sign, Gibbs noted fearfully. "There was a lot of damage, the most notable being that the blade did puncture her left lung. We were unable to get her breathing on her own again; she's currently on life support." At the collective gasp, he sighed again; this was a part of his job he really did not like. "She lost a lot of blood, and unfortunately, she has a rare blood type - O negative. We've sent an alert to all the hospitals in our radius, so if they have the type she needs and can get it to us… but so far, we haven't gotten a response."

Ducky was the only one able to find his voice. "What are her chances?"

"Well, she's young, and in good health. With a transfusion, I'd say at least 50/50."

"And without one?" Ziva asked hesitantly.

There was a long pause. "Without one…" the doctor started, shaking his head slightly. "Without one, I honestly don't think she'll last the night."