Sorry for the delay. I'm putting up 2 chapters in the hope that you'll all forgive me!
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Back on the Somali beach the first hint of dawn was glowing on the horizon. Soon the SEAL units would no longer have the protection of darkness. They would be vulnerable as they waited for the Seahawk helicopter to reach them. The Platoon Commander ordered a secure perimeter to be established to provide protection for the rest of the unit and the injured while they awaited the arrival of the helicopter. McGee felt uncomfortable and helpless waiting for the unknown. He observed Ziva closely. She was pretty weak. She drifted in and out of consciousness the whole time. She kept mumbling incoherently and repeating something in Hebrew but he couldn't understand it.
Fornell was sleeping close by. He was exhausted. Despite his injury he had been doing pretty well. He had remained conscious throughout the whole truck journey from the camp. The medic had given him morphine for his pain which had made him drowsy. That coupled with the blood loss led him to eventually succumb to sleep. McGee kept a watchful eye on him though, just to make sure he was still breathing.
From where he sat, McGee could hear Tony talking to Gibbs. Since the medic had released the pressure from Gibbs chest, he had slowly regained consciousness. Tony was talking to him, trying to keep him that way. If Gibbs hadn't been so dazed and had the strength, he would have head-slapped Tony from where they sat straight onto the carrier for talking such nonsense. He was gibbering on about some God forsaken movie which he felt Gibbs would enjoy, starring none other than Jessica Alba. Who the F was Jessica Alba Gibbs wondered? It may not have been having quite the calming effect Tony had hoped but even annoying Gibbs was doing some good and keeping him awake. Poor McGee was feeling a little over-whelmed as he sat looking at his friends scattered on the sand, awaiting rescue. To him it felt like one of those war movies Tony was always mouthing on about, with the injured lying on a beach awaiting rescue. Then out of nowhere Abby popped into his head. 'She's really going to kill me for this' he thought. She'll wonder how come I didn't protect Gibbs. I promised her that I would. As those thoughts flew around his head, he heard the sound of rotors in the distance.
"Thank God," he whispered as he stood up to try and see the chopper. Eventually it came into view. As it closed in on the beach, the C.O. was shouting into his radio, then he came over to McGee and DiNozzo.
"They don't think it's a good idea to land on the beach. It will kick up a storm of dust. They're going to lower one of their guys down and bring the injured up one at a time," he said, holding onto his hat and shouting to be heard above noise of the rotors.
And that was how it happened. First Fornell was lifted into the Seahawk, then Gibbs and finally Ziva. There was a medic on board as part of the crew so he was busy trying to stabilise his three recently acquired patients. DiNozzo, McGee and the SEALs remained on the beach and were ordered back to the USS Freedom by boat. As the Seahawk disappeared from view, DiNozzo climbed into the same boat as McGee.
"Do you think they'll be alright?" McGee asked looking worried.
"Sure they will," Tony replied trying to be as convincing as he could. "They'll be fine," he insisted. Soon one of the SEALs was pushing their boat off the beach and into the calm waters of the Indian Ocean. Their craft cut through the glass like water with ease. Both agents remained quiet throughout the journey, their thoughts with their friends.
Miles further out to sea, the Seahawk was approaching the aircraft carrier. Medical teams were on standby to take the injured to sickbay. The Senior Medical Officer stood on deck, waiting to assess their injuries. He would decide their treatment and whether anyone needed to be evacuated to a medical facility on land. As the Seahawk bounced onto the flight deck, swarms of Corpsmen descended on the aircraft with stretchers to remove the injured from the flight deck and below as quickly as possible.
"What have we got Lieutenant?" the Senior Medical Officer asked.
"Two gunshot wounds, one assault victim," he began before listing the treatment he had given to each of them.
"Okay, Lieutenant, we'll take it from here," the S.M.O replied before turning and following the stretchers that were being carried to sickbay.
The sickbay was buzzing with personnel as the three injured were placed on treatment tables. Each of the agents was assessed individually. The Senior Medical Officer and the Ships Surgeon agreed that Fornell was the priority as his vitals were low and he was going downhill fairly rapidly. The Air Wing Flight Surgeon was also called for, as his surgical skills would also be necessary today. Fornell was moved to the ships surgery where he was operated on almost immediately.
As Gibbs was examined he regained consciousness once again. Unaware of where he was he began to panic and fight the nurses who were stripping him of his bloodied fatigues.
"Sir, it's alright. We're going to help you," a Corpsman explained. "You're back on the Ronald Reagan, Sir."
"Where… are my team?" Gibbs asked breathlessly.
"Not sure Sir. I'll find out for you if you just lay back down," he promised.
Gibbs did as he was asked. Truth be told, he felt as weak as a kitten. He lay back gratefully because the whole room was spinning when he raised his head. A nurse placed an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and told him to breathe normally. Another Corpsman took portable x-rays of his chest as he lay there. They needed to find the bullet. Shortly after, the Senior Medical Officer approached a drowsy Gibbs with x-rays in hand.
"Agent Gibbs, I have your x-rays here. The bullet is lodged just behind your sternum, here. It entered your body dangerously close to your spine but by some miracle it missed. Looks like it nicked your lung here," he said holding the x-ray towards the light and pointing for Gibbs benefit. "You're a lucky man. We'll get you into surgery and remove the bullet and you should be feeling better soon."
Gibbs thanked him weakly. The sooner the better, he thought. He turned his head to the side in an effort to see where Ziva was. She was on a bed at the other side of the room, surrounded by nurses and Corpsmen.
"How's she doing?" Gibbs asked the nurse who stood close to the head of his bed. She turned around and looked over. She couldn't really tell from where she stood.
She looked down at Gibbs and could see the fear in his eyes. It was obvious to her that he cared deeply for the young lady.
"I'll check for you," she said kindly. He watched as she walked over and talked to her colleagues. They both turned and looked back at him for a moment and they turned away again. The nurse was smiling as she walked back towards Gibbs.
"She's stable," she announced putting her hand on his, a comforting gesture. "She's exhausted and dehydrated but they're dealing with that. They're running some tests to determine if she has any internal injuries and are monitoring her for signs of serious head injury, but at the moment things look positive."
Gibbs felt a wave of relief wash over him. At least they got her back. He asked again about the rest of the team. Someone familiar with their mission was able to tell him that they were on their way by sea to link up with the USS Freedom and that there were no other casualties reported. Absorbing that information Gibbs relaxed back onto the bed. He was finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. He closed them and slipped into the welcome warmth of the darkness. The nurse became concerned when she couldn't rouse him and called one of the Corpsmen. He examined him and noted the changes in his Obs.
"We can't wait any longer. Let's move him to surgery," he ordered with composure.
TBC
