A/N: Wow, 12 reviews! I'm super excited and definitely feel the love . . . and I want to reassure you all that Tim does not die in this story. What kind of a McAbby story would that be? But that's the only 'spoiler' I'm going to give you guys!

The lyric at the beginning of this chapter is from a song called "Need" - not mine! Also, this chapter contains some medical terms. Though I did some research, I don't have a medical degree - so if anyone in the medical field is reading this, please forgive any errors I have unintentionally made!

"I'm not quite sure how to breathe without you here" – (Hana Pestle)

Grayed out scene: Close up shot of Abby's face under her parasol, holding her cell phone and crying.

"TIMMY!"

Abby's feet flew the distance to McGee's side even as she felt her heart hammering in her throat, making it difficult to take a deep breath. He was so pale, so still, and definitely was not breathing. She didn't need to listen and feel to know – she could see that his chest wasn't rising and falling. Her eyes filled and overflowed as she saw the small bullet wound in his upper chest. Not wasting another second, her hands immediately assumed the proper position on his ribcage and she began to count, her thoughts keeping time with the rhythm of her compressions. He's definitely been shot- but who would shoot my Timmy? How long ago? How long has Jethro been barking? Did he get a piece of the attacker? Was the gun still here in the apartment or did the shooter take it?

She reached thirty compressions and removed her hands, moving up to his face. She tilted Tim's chin up, pinched his nose shut, opened his mouth and gently gave him two rescue breaths, watching his chest rise and fall with each one. As she moved back to start another cycle, she heard movement behind her and looked over her shoulder to see Michael frozen in the doorway. Her hands began the compressions again.

"Michael, call 911. Tim's been shot. We need an ambulance, now! And take Jethro with you." She timed the words to her rhythm, never losing a beat. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the boy picked up Tim's cell phone and dialed 911 and half listened as he argued with the dispatcher that he wasn't crying wolf. Abby was wondering if she needed him to put the dispatcher on speakerphone so she could talk to them, but Michael obviously convinced them because he flashed her a thumbs up sign.

She let out a shaky sigh as she breathed into Tim's mouth again. "Don't you die on me, Tim. Not on your birthday, you hear me?" she whispered as she moved back to his chest. "You're not even working on a case and I refuse to let you die here on your floor like a victim. Come on, Tim, breathe."

Tears were dripping onto her hands, mixing with the blood from his wound, and her hands were becoming slippery, her arms tired, but Abby barely realized this. She had no idea how much time had passed since they had found Tim, how long she had been performing CPR when suddenly the paramedics were there in the room, gently lifting her bloody hands from his chest.

"Ma'am, let us do that now."

Exhaustion swept through Abby and she fell back against the side of the couch, shaking uncontrollably, her eyes never leaving Tim's face.

"What on earth is going on in here?" Mrs. Parker exclaimed from the doorway. "Oh my God, Tim!"

Michael ran to his mom, burying his face against her side. "Tim's been shot, mom. Jethro was barking and the tenants were complaining and Miss Abby came and opened the door and we found him."

Mrs. Parker ran a soothing hand through her son's hair. "Is there anything we can do?"

Abby forced her fear aside and made herself think like the forensic scientist she was. "Yes, you have to keep everyone out of here once we've left, Mrs. Parker. This apartment is now a crime scene. Tim's fellow NCIS agents will be here later to collect evidence."

Michael's eyes went round. "Cool! I'll get to see Tony. Can I help him, mom?"

Mrs. Parker shook her head. "I don't think so, son."

"We're all set for transport, ma'am," the female paramedic said.

Abby scrambled to her feet. "Please let me ride with him."

"Are you family?"

Abby swallowed. "I'm his next of kin."

"Come on then."

Gibbs was doing what he always did on Saturday. Actually what he always did whenever he had free time.

He was downstairs working on his boat, the Kelly2. He'd lost the first Kelly to termites and he was taking more care with this one. It meant a lot to him that Abby had come over a couple of times in the last few weeks to put some of her own handiwork on it because he thought of her as the daughter Kelly never got the chance to be. Of course she had asked the sixty-four thousand dollar question everyone asked who visited his basement.

"Gibbs, can I ask you a question?

He looked up from his workbench, where he was working on a smaller piece for the boat. "Sure, Abs."

"How are you going to get this out of here when it's done?"

He grinned at her, the same "Gibbs" grin he bestowed on all the girls in his life.

Abby smirked back. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

He turned back towards his workbench. "Nope."

He grinned now at the memory as he continued to sand and then glared at the phone that began to ring and broke his solitude. Throwing down his rag, he plucked the offending object out of the Mason jar and put it up to his ear.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"Gibbs, it's Abby," she said, her voice breaking on a sob.

"Abs, what's wrong?" Gibbs' gut was instantly tingling.

"Tim's been shot – we're on the way to Bethseda. Oh Gibbs, he wasn't breathing and he was shot in the chest and-"

"Abs, slow down, take a breath. McGee was shot at home?"

"Yes! I found him just inside his front door! Who would do that to McGee, Gibbs?"

Gibbs swore under his breath. "I don't know, Abs, but we'll find out. I'm coming to meet you and I'll send Tony and Ziva to process McGee's apartment."

"Bring Duck man too."

"I will."

"Hurry, Gibbs! Timmy-" she broke off and started crying harder.

Gibbs swore again.

Tony collapsed next to Ziva on the bed, his chest heaving. "When I catch my breath, you are in so much trouble, my little ninja," he panted, pulling the sheets higher around them.

"You started it, my little furry bear," Ziva purred, reaching out a hand and running it across his chest. "I was in here, trying to catch a quick bat nap after brunch when you came in and tackled me."

"Cat, Zee," Tony corrected, capturing her hand in his and lacing their fingers together. "It's a cat nap, not a bat nap."

Ziva laid her head on his shoulder. "Whatever. You still started it."

"But you finished it."

He felt her smile against his skin. "I like to finish things." She rolled on top of him, pinning his body under hers to the bed. "How about I start and you finish this time?"

Tony groaned as he met her lips halfway, running his hands through her hair and down her bare back.

"Are you going to get that, Tony?" she breathed against his lips.

"Get what?"

"Your phone – it is ringing."

Tony groaned again, this time in frustration as his arm reached out blindly for the phone on his nightstand as Ziva continued to kiss along his neck and collarbone. He stiffened when he saw who was calling and Ziva paused, noting his body language.

"It's Gibbs."

She sighed and rolled off him, back to her side of his king sized bed.

Tony flipped open his phone. "Dinozzo."

"Tony, I need you and Ziver to grab your gear and get over to McGee's apartment."

"Boss, we were going over later for – wait, did you say grab our gear?"

"Do you have a hearing problem, Dinozzo? Yeah, that's what I said! Abby just called me – McGee's been shot."

Tony sat up in bed, the sheet pooling around his waist, his eyes darting to Ziva's in shock. "How bad?"

"I don't have the details yet but Abby said he'd been shot in the chest and he wasn't breathing when she found him."

"Boss, he's not-" Tony swallowed, not even able to say the word. He was flashing back to a diner in the California desert and the broken and bloodied body of Jenny Shepherd lying on the floor.

"No, he's alive. He's being taken to Bethseda but I need you two to get your butts over there before McGee's neighbors mess up our crime scene."

"On it, Boss," Tony said hoarsely, ending the call by snapping his phone shut.

Ziva wrapped the sheet around her and sat up, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Tony, what is it?"

Tony swallowed, trying to get the lump in his throat to go away so he could form the words needed to tell her. He was startled out of his reverie by his partner and lover straddling his lap so they were face to face.

"What has happened?" she asked softly.

"Tim's been shot."

Ziva's brown eyes widened but otherwise her face was a mask. She squeezed his shoulders. "He is alive?"

"For now. He was shot in the chest and evidently wasn't breathing when Abby found him."

This time he saw the brief spasm of pain that crossed her face before her mask hid it. "Abby found him?"

Tony nodded. "She must have been picking him up for their brunch date. Gibbs needs us to go process his apartment."

Ziva nodded in understanding, leaning forward and giving him a soft kiss of comfort. "Then we had better get going. The sooner we get there, the sooner we finish and can go to the hospital, yes?"

Abby couldn't sit down. She knew that she was making the other people in the waiting room feel worse by her constant pacing and muttering but she just couldn't sit down. Every time she did, her eyes would close and she would see Tim lying on the floor, bleeding from the chest and not breathing. So she kept moving and praying.

"Abby."

She turned at the sound of her name and with a sob, threw herself into Gibbs' arms.

"Hush, Abs, take some deep breaths. Tim's going to be ok. He's strong and healthy," Gibbs reassured her.

Abby shook her head furiously against his shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of sawdust. "You didn't see him, Gibbs, lying there so still and quiet. He wasn't breathing. How long wasn't he breathing? I know from my CPR classes that brain damage occurs after three minutes from a lack of oxygen and Jethro had been barking for at least that long. What if Timmy has permanent brain damage? What if he's a vegetable? What if he-"

Gibbs pushed her away from him, giving her a little shake. "Stop it, Abby!"

"We won't know the extent of the damage until Timothy wakes up, my dear. Try not to borrow trouble until then," Ducky said softly from his place beside Gibbs.

"Oh, Duck man!" Abby cried as she noticed him for the first time. She gave him a hug but was gentler in her embrace than she had been with Gibbs. Ducky patted her on the back and whispered soothing words in her ear.

"Have they told you anything, Abigail?" Ducky asked once she had calmed down and he had convinced her to sit down for a few minutes.

She shook her head. "They took him straight back to trauma and I haven't heard anything since. I do know that the bullet is still inside of Tim."

Just then a doctor approached them. "Miss Sciuto?"

Abby jumped to her feet. "You have news about Tim?"

"Yes, I'm Dr. Hart. We're prepping him for surgery right now to remove the bullet and repair the internal damage it caused."

"What is the nature and extent of that damage?" Ducky asked.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Dr. Hart asked.

"Dr. Donald Mallard, Timothy McGee's personal physician and this is-"

"I'm Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, NCIS. I'm Timothy's supervisor and primary next of kin."

Dr. Hart looked in confusion at Abby. "But I thought-"

"I'm his secondary. Please, Dr. Hart – what's going on with Tim?"

Dr. Hart exchanged a glance with Ducky. "Having you here will make things easier for me, Dr. Mallard. Let's sit down, shall we?"

Abby balked at the suggestion but Gibbs fixed his stare on her so she nervously perched on the edge of a chair and tried not to tap her toes in impatience.

"The bullet did not penetrate Mr. McGee's heart."

Abby closed her eyes in relief.

"But?" Ducky prompted.

"The bullet punctured his pericardium and is lodged in the pericardial fluid very close to the heart."

"Ducky?" Abby looked at him in confusion.

The ME placed one of his hands over hers but continued to speak directly to Dr. Hart. "Any bleeding into the pericardium?"

Dr. Hart nodded. "Yes. I think the bullet did hit the heart muscle and that is why the pericardium is filling with blood. As you know, we need to operate quickly to remove the bullet and blood so the pericardium can fill with the pericardial fluid again."

Ducky nodded solemnly. "What is Timothy's current condition?"

Dr. Hart sighed. "I won't lie to you, Dr. Mallard. It's very grave. If he survives the surgery and doesn't develop any further complications, his chances for survival will increase."

Abby pressed a hand to her mouth and buried her face in Ducky's shoulder.

"I have to go and scrub in now," Dr. Hart said. "I'm sure Dr. Mallard can answer your questions and I'll let you know how the surgery goes."

Gibbs stepped into the doctor's path. "I'm going to need that bullet, Dr. Hart. Someone shot my agent."

Dr. Hart nodded. "I'll see that it's set aside and bring it to you myself."

Gibbs nodded and let the doctor pass. He returned to his chair, watching his friend try to console a sobbing Abby. When her sobs had reduced to sniffles, he said,

"Ok, Duck, in words Abby and I can understand, what is going on with Tim?"

Ducky sighed. "The bullet went through the pericardium, which is the protective sack that surrounds the heart, Jethro. The sack is filled with a fluid that allows the heart to pump but when the bullet hit Timothy it must have nicked his heart because the sack started to fill with blood from the heart muscle. This caused Timothy's blood pressure to drop and he lost consciousness. His heart also stopped beating. That's why they're taking Timothy to surgery so quickly. The faster they repair the damage, the better his chances are."

"So they're going to take out the bullet and plug the hole?" Abby asked.

Ducky nodded. "After draining the blood that's leaked into the sack, yes."

Abby seemed satisfied with Ducky's explanation because she asked no more questions but Ducky could tell his friend still had something on his mind.

Gibbs waited until Abby slipped out to the bathroom before he claimed her seat beside Ducky.

"Will he make it?"

Ducky sighed. "I'm not God, Jethro. I don't decide who lives and who dies."

Jethro fixed his piercing stare on his friend. "What are his odds, Duck?"

"Are you looking for a number?"

Jethro waited.

A muscle ticked in Ducky's jaw before he answered. "Twenty to thirty percent of surviving the gunshot wound. If you are asking me to factor in brain damage from lack of oxygen, I'm afraid his odds go down significantly."

Jethro continued to wait.

"I won't put a number on Timothy's odds, Jethro! I wasn't there so I don't know how long he'd been without oxygen before Abby started CPR. I do know that Timothy wouldn't be on his way to surgery if she hadn't performed CPR – he would be on a slab in my morgue. And I do know that man has been defying a doctor's diagnosis on whether he'll live or die since man earned his first medical degree. A person's will to live is almost always stronger than the body's desire to die."

Ducky paused as Abby came back into the waiting room, her arms hugging her waist, her lips moving silently. He smiled and turned back to Gibbs.

"And when you have someone to come back for, your will to live truly becomes a force to be reckoned with."

McGee had been in surgery for an hour and twenty minutes and Abby felt like she was going to crawl out of her skin. Gibbs was on his second cup of bad hospital coffee, his feet propped up on one of the small tables, and perfectly willing to wait hours if need be. Palmer had arrived half an hour ago, given Abby a hug, and was now deep in discussion with Ducky.

She sighed, knowing that she couldn't put the phone call off any longer. Sarah was family and she needed to be here.

Abby picked up her parasol and Gibbs looked at her questioningly.

"I'm going to get some air."

That got Ducky and Palmer's attention; now all three men were looking at her like she had just lost her marbles.

"Would you like some company, Abigail?" the ME asked gently.

She gave him a sad smile. "Thanks, Ducky, but I have to make a rather urgent phone call – unless, one of you already called Sarah?"

Gibbs spoke up. "I tried but I got her voicemail."

Abby paled. "You didn't –"

He sighed. "No, Abs. Didn't think it was the sort of thing she should hear on her voicemail."

Abby nodded. "I'm going to try her again."

She asked one of the hospital volunteers and was told that there was a nice atrium with benches just down the hall. Abby wandered until she found the door that led to the outside area. Opening the door with one hand and her parasol with the other, she stepped out into the crisp air. Since it was the end of winter, the garden was still bare and desolate of foliage but Abby thought it held a certain appeal in its nakedness. She walked until she found a bench that looked dry and pulled out her cell, staring down at it with shaking fingers as she sat down.

This kind of news really shouldn't be told over the phone at all. Tim is all Sarah has . . . what if he – no! Abby angrily swiped at the tears on her face. Tim is not going to die. She scrolled through her contact list until Sarah's name was highlighted, hit the call button, and then waited to see if Sarah answered.

"Hello?"

Abby cleared her throat. "Hi, Sarah, it's Abby."

"Abby! I didn't expect to hear from you today! Tim said you guys were spending the day together. Has he bored you to tears already?" Sarah laughed.

Abby swallowed. "I'm really sorry to bother you, Sarah. I know you're busy studying for your Master's."

"Yeah, I feel bad that I can't join you guys to help celebrate my big brother's birthday. Maybe the three of us can get together next week?"

Abby closed her eyes, knowing that she was just going to have to cut the girl off and blurt the terrible news out. "Listen, I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

There was a pause before Sarah said, "About Tim?"

"Yes. You see, when I went to pick him up for brunch-"

"Abby, just tell me. What's happened to my brother?"

"Sarah, Tim's been shot."

(So for those of you keeping a score sheet, in this fictional universe, Tim and Sarah's parents are deceased. That's what Abby means by "Tim is all Sarah has." And for those of you wondering about 'Ray' since Ziva and Tony are obviously together - well, stay tuned! Reviews are LOVE! ;)