A/N: It occurred to me that there really hasn't been much McGee in this story. Ironic as it is about him.
This may be the last chapter I post for a couple of days, as it's shaping to be extremely busy at work this weekend. Please bear with me, and thanks for reading. F.
Sensation slowly returned.
He tensed, waiting for the burning pain to reappear, and then slowly relaxed as it failed to appear. It was replaced by a dull, throbbing ache. He tried to move his shoulder, hoping that the change of position would ease the soreness. Panic swept over him; he couldn't move his arm. He tried to turn his head to see, but was stopped by something firm. What was going on?
His eyes flew open, searching for someone, anyone that could tell him what had happened. All he could see was an off-white ceiling. It looked institutional somehow. As he tried to figure out where he was, he heard a voice.
"Hey, he's awake!" It came from somewhere beside him. Suddenly there were two faces in his line of vision. One he'd never seen before; the other was Abby. She'd never looked quite so good to him before, he decided. She was watching him with concern in her big green eyes.
"Timmy?"
"Abs." He rasped. "My arm...can't." The words wouldn't come out, but she understood.
"Shh, it's ok. You're in the hospital. They had to operate on your arm; that's why you can't move it—to let it heal."
She looked like she was about to cry. That wasn't right; Abby shouldn't cry.
"'M sorry." He mumbled. His eyelids fluttered closed. He slept.
...
When he awoke the next time, the room was in semi-darkness. He couldn't tell how much time had passed. He let his eyes adjust to the dim light for a few minutes before trying to see what they'd done to his left side. He'd slept badly, disturbing snatches and fragments of memory haunting his dreams. Most of them had faded, leaving him unable to recall them. All except for one. He twisted in the bed, trying to confirm or deny his nightmare.
He heard the sound of someone getting up from a chair and hurrying towards him. Sarah's face came into his vision.
"Tim, calm down." She gently pushed against his right shoulder, making him lie flat "You'll hurt yourself."
He stopped struggling, but he had to know.
"Sarah... I need to see it."
"See what, Tim?"
"My arm" he told her. He could see from the sudden rigidity of her face that it wasn't good news. He swallowed against the rising fear "I-I heard the doctors talking when they brought me in. They didn't- they didn't –"he could hear the note of panic in his voice making him sound shrill and forced himself to take a deep breath. "Do I still have my arm?"
At her slow nod, he let go the breath he didn't even realise he'd been holding. Relief made him tremble; the memory had been fragmented, but so vivid. She took his right hand, carefully lifting it over his chest so he could touch his heavily bandaged left arm.
"I thought- I thought they'd have to amputate it" he said, his voice still slightly higher than normal.
"They nearly did." Sarah whispered. She cleared her throat, and then continued in a stronger voice "Abby wouldn't let them."
"Abby? What about Mum and Dad?" he asked. He couldn't think why Abby would be called on to make that sort of decision.
"They're on the cruise, remember?" Sarah reminded him. Their parents had decided to take an extended cruise through the South Pacific, calling it their second honeymoon. "Something went wrong with the ship's satellite phone and I haven't been able to contact them."
"Where is Abby?" he asked. He needed to talk to her; to thank her, and to apologise for forcing her to make that choice.
"She went home; she hadn't slept since you were hurt, Tim. Gibbs and Doctor Mallard went to the cafeteria; they should be back any moment"
"Sarah, will you please call me Ducky?"
McGee turned his head slightly, seeing Ducky enter the room followed by Gibbs. They came towards the bed.
"You're awake, dear boy. You gave us quite a scare." The words were delivered in a jovial tone, but the elderly ME's eyes were solemn. McGee looked to Gibbs, seeing a similar serious expression. It was obvious they wanted to talk to him. Ducky addressed Sarah
"Why don't you go and get something to eat, Sarah? Gibbs and I will sit with Timothy for a few minutes."
McGee could see Sarah resisting and added his entreaties to Ducky's.
"Go on Sarah, you need to eat" he told her. She gave in and left, promising to be back shortly. When he was certain she was gone, McGee looked at the two older men.
"So they're letting you break the bad news?" he asked.
Ducky sighed. "I've managed to convince them that I'm your personal physician. Your surgeon and I agreed that it would be better coming from someone you know, instead of a stranger."
McGee nodded; he understood that much.
"Your shoulder was very badly injured. They had to take you back in for surgery again this morning to reconstruct it."
"Sarah told me that Abby stopped them from amputating." He tried to keep his voice as steady as he could.
"Abby said she couldn't do that to you." Gibbs said.
"Yes, well, with that sort of damage, there's the possibility that you won't get full movement back in your shoulder." Ducky told him gently. McGee swallowed, trying to absorb the knowledge.
"How much movement will I lose?" he asked.
"With time and intensive physiotherapy, you should get much of the movement back." Ducky hedged.
"How much?" he asked, more insistently this time.
Ducky sighed.
"Around 30 to 40 percent. You'll still be able to perform most normal activities."
McGee let that sink in for a moment before asking his one burning question.
"Field work?"
No one spoke, but the look of pity and sorrow in his Boss' eyes was answer enough.