Tim awoke and blinked trying to clear his fuzzy vision. Blank white ceiling. Dry mouth. He blinked again. He felt nothing. He was empty.
He remembered seeing the huge dark shining pile of blood on the ground as they lifted him quickly up onto the stretcher and carried him away into the ambulance, strange urgent voices and hands and bodies surrounding him. That was why he was empty. He had left it all behind on that dirty bitumen.
He had strained his head back even as they struggled to get an oxygen mask over his face. Even through the pain. He needed to see Gibbs' face, to know that everything was going to be alright. He was so afraid. It hurt so much. Gibbs would look at him and he would know that everything was going to be ok. Just like it always was.
Pain that couldn't be masked by the strongest painkillers known to man couldn't hide what he was feeling now as he remembered Gibbs kneeling in a pool of his blood, head sagging down onto his chest. He hadn't even watched him go.
Gibbs had given up on him.
Was that why he wasn't here? He never expected Tim to be able to pull through? Did he really think he was a weak as that? After all this time did Gibbs not truly understand his strength?
Tim gasped and heard the monitors and machines beside him that had been keeping a slow measured rhythm suddenly stutter and soar, growing increasingly louder.
No No No. He needed to get up. To get out. To tell Gibbs that he was ok. He needed to show him that he wasn't weak. He was strong and he wouldn't let this stop him. Where was Gibbs? Had something happened to him after he had been taken away?
Had Gibbs been hurt? Had the shooter returned to the scene? Why couldn't he move his legs?
Tim struggled against what felt like steel bands across his chest and arms as fresh pain exploded behind his eyes. He didn't understand. What was wrong? What was happening to him! He arched his back and tried to make his body move under his command. No no no no. Black spots swam about the endless white and seemed to close in on him.
Where was Gibbs? Why wasn't he here? What was wrong with him?
Somewhere down the sterile corridor an alarm sounded at the nurse's station and rubber soled feet hurried to his side. The white curtain was torn back with a metallic shearing sound.
He struggled to breathe through the pain and he tried to tear off the mask covering his face in his panic. Tubes and needles deep in his arms. Panicked voices again surrounding him, bright lights shone into his eyes. No warm familiar voice.
Gibbs had wanted to leave him for so long. He had seen it in his eyes. The stabbing anxiety always present behind the surprising joy. He hadn't known how to do it. Gibbs had always been the one left by others. He had never been the one to do the leaving. Whenever he left Tim's bed it was always without goodbye and Tim had nothing but his hope that he would eventually came back.
Had Gibbs finally said goodbye? Was this it? Had he shamed Gibbs so much by being foolish enough to be shot that he couldn't stand to look at him? What had he done?
Get the crash cart in here! We're losing him!
*******************************************************************
Gibbs stepped back into the corridor with Ducky at his side. He was going to do this. He couldn't believe it but he was going to give it a shot. He was going to tell Timothy McGee that he was in love with him and he would like to pursue an adult relationship with him.
He didn't know when he had felt more afraid.
Suddenly he was pushed aside as a flurry of doctors and nurses surged down the hallway surrounding a patient. A man was kneeling astride him and furiously giving him chest compressions and shouting instructions.
Gibbs caught a look at the patients face and suddenly Ducky grabbed his arm.
"No Ducky No Tim? TIM NO!"