Disclaimer: Ditto the previous one.
The music was blaring by noon and Abby was hard at work, as some one crept up behind her. They grabbed her arms and forced her to the floor, then a gun was fired and another.
Abby felt the blood and the pain. The sweet darkness of unconsciousness gripped her quickly.
From his desk Gibbs heard it. A loud cracking bang, one he had heard only too often, but not like this. This one brought terror with it, he knew that Abby wasn't testing any weapons today; she'd have told him, knowing he'd worry.
Anyway the ballistics lab was soundproof to prevent people from panicking.
Gibbs seized his SIG from the drawer and raced towards the stairs, Tony, Kate and McGee behind him. While he ran, Gibbs readied his gun and quietened his footsteps. The others did the same, still wondering what Gibbs would do.
Ducky had heard the shot from downstairs, even with the music he couldn't mistaken the sound of gunshot, and came tearing up the stairs, not bothering with the dilatory elevator, leaping into action the moment he saw Abby, keeping the bleeding down as much as he could. By the time Palmer had gotten up to the lab, Gibbs had phoned the paramedics and had handcuffed the wounded shooter, while Tony had slowed the bleeding from the man's left knee.
A few minutes later the paramedics rushed into the room, followed by Kate, who had guided them to the lab. Abby had become incredibly pale, making the blood look a strange vivid red, which Kate had never seen before. Then a thought entered her head: 'I'm surprised the guy isn't dead, having shot Abby.'
Ducky may have specialised in the dead, but he was ok with the living as well. The wound was to her lower left chest; he supposed that she had struggled against her captor just as the shot was fired.
She would have been dead, if she hadn't.
She might still die.
He had done all he could for her, put pressure on the wound and kept her calm as she drifted between the different consciousness' and, once he'd handed her over to the medics, went to stand by Gibbs.
Gibbs looked at the scene for a moment longer before turning to look Ducky in the eye, with his eyes pleading for a quick fix, one that, Ducky knew damn well he would know, was not forthcoming.
"I'm sorry Gibbs, but I don't know what to say or do, apart from wait."
"I know. I just feel so helpless, I hate to see her like that, but knowing I can't do anything makes it worse."
"I see." Ducky picked up Gibbs emotion quickly; he always had been able to work him out, "Have you told her that? Listen you go with her and we'll be along as soon as possible, ok?"
With a quick nod Gibbs exited behind the medics, who had Abby and held her hand. He clutched at it tightly, as if his hold could some how keep her alive, reverse all this, make it so everything was as it should be. But it couldn't and he knew it.
The elevator was slow as usual, but today it seemed to know to hurry itself a little. Still gripping Abby's hand, Gibbs found he knew what Ducky was talking about:
'Have you told her that?'
No he hadn't, but that would be opening himself up to somewhere he thought he had banished from his mind years ago, with the deaths of his wife and daughter. But he'd forgotten about his heart.
He came up with a resolution: if she was still alive for her birthday then he would tell her, if not then he would still tell her, so either way he would tell her on her birthday exactly how he felt about her.
'But what if she doesn't feel the same and just rejects you?'
His second thought's contribution to the inner debate was received with a dance partner.
'Or what if she does feel the same and you scare her off because you come out with it bluntly?'
'Either way she will be told, so there.'
Good, his sensible, no-nonsense, once-a-marine-always-a-marine attitude was back from its short trip to nowhere.
Four hours later the whole team was sat in the friends and relatives room of Bethesda Naval Hospital, when a middle-aged doctor came in.
"I take it you're the NCIS lot?" Nods answered his question. "Ok, well luckily we have managed to avoid any life threatening damage, but Abigail is not out of the woods yet. Umm, which one of you is Jethro Gibbs?"
"That would be me."
"Could I have a word with you please? This way." Gibbs followed the doctor out into the corridor and through into an office.
"On Abigail's records it says you are her only emergency contact, but they were updated about five years ago, so will need rechecking soon. Do you still consent to being her contact?"
"Erm, yes, of course. Will she be ok?"
The doctor's eyes hardened suggesting he had to this often.
"I'm only called in if they think I might be able to do something. Personally I think she has a good chance, but with the amount of blood she lost we have no way to tell if damage has occurred to the brain, due to it being starved of oxygen. So yes, I do think she will survive. But whether she will fully recover? I don't know. We can only hope and pray until she wakes up." Leaving he left Gibbs with more to think about.
'What if she doesn't remember who we are? Who am I kidding? What if she doesn't remember who I am?'
He needed air, coffee and a good friend. Walking back to the rest he signalled Ducky to follow him.
Once out of the hospital with it's clean, sterile smell Gibbs felt better.
"What am I going to do? The doc. said there might be a chance that she has brain damage."
"Did he say what type?"
"What? No."
"Well don't worry then! It's more likely there will be nothing wrong, or if there is it'll be something like temporary short-term memory loss. Temporary, Gibbs, as in not forever and she'll never forget you, nobody, not even Abby, is brave enough to try that."
Half an hour later Gibbs and Ducky returned to the waiting room with coffee for everyone, except for Ducky himself, who, being a true Englishman at heart, had tea.
"Any news?" McGee shook his head, eyes red and puffy, worry managing to make a guest appearance on his face. Looking round they saw that everyone had their own concerned looks, but that only McGee was really beating himself up about the situation.