CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It wasn't long before the rest of the team arrived back at the hospital. Once Gibbs and Tony put out the call, none of them could stay away. The only absence was Vance who was in a meeting at the Pentagon.

Abby looked around the waiting room as she settled herself into one of the hard seats. "Does Admiral McGee know?"

"He was here for a little while earlier," Tony shrugged, "Not more than ten minutes. That's how long it took me to go to the bathroom and punch that weasel Owens in the nose."

Ziva's brows shot up. "You punched Lt. Owens? Why?"

Tony's face darkened. "He said that McGee was a sloppy agent and deserved to get shot."

The others all stared at him.

"You're kidding, right?" asked Abby leaning forward. "Not even a jerk like Owens would say something like that." She paused. "Would he? Because if he did, then you should have done more than just punch him in the nose, Tony."

"I might have if Gibbs hadn't stepped in."

Gibbs grunted in amusement. "DiNozzo, I stepped in to keep him from tearing you to pieces. He was a Navy Seal. If I hadn't stopped him, you'd be joining McGee in the ICU."

At first Tony looked as if he might protest, then he simply grinned and shrugged. "You gotta point. But still, I did bust up his nose pretty good."

"Serves him right," muttered Abby, her eyes dark with fury. "I'd like to punch him myself. Imagine saying something so horrible about McGee. It isn't right."

For a long time, no said anything. What was there to say? Tony repeatedly checked his watch, but the time seemed to crawl by. Every time someone came out of the ICU, they all turned as one to see if the doctor had returned. But each time they were met with disappointment.

They waited.

Lunch time came and went. As the length of time increased, so did their anxiety. Abby sat curled up in the chair methodically chewing one finger nail after another. Ziva, her eyes closed, gently fingered the Star of David that hung at her throat, her lips moving in silent prayer. Tony paced, unable to sit still. Palmer and Ducky sat silently, lost in their own thoughts. Gibbs stood stiffly near the ICU entrance like a sentry keeping watch.

At long last, the doctor finally reappeared. Everyone got to their feet and hurried toward him.

"How is he?" Gibbs' voice was quiet.

The doctor sighed. "He is alive but he won't survive another episode like that. He's slipped into a coma which is never a good sign. We're continuing to transfuse him. The bullet had nicked part of the liver and it was missed with all the other damage, but we finally managed to stop the bleeding."

"Is there something you are not telling us, doctor?" Dr. Mallard eyed the surgeon carefully.

The doctor rubbed his eyes and hesitated a moment before answering. "We lost him for close to ten minutes half way through the surgery. Honestly, I didn't think we were going to bring him back this time."

"But he is alive? You did save him?" Abby's voice trembled and Tony gently placed his arm around her thin shoulders.

"For the moment. I wish I could tell you all that we fixed the problem and he'll be fine. But I can't. He's lost so much blood and although we've tried to repair all the internal damage, I can't say for certain there isn't something else that will go wrong." The doctor raised his hands helplessly. "There is only so much we can do." The strain in his face was evident to all. The near loss of his patient had obviously shaken him.

"Thank you, doctor," said Ducky quietly. "We appreciate everything you have done for our friend and will continue to do for him."

"He'll be in recovery for awhile. No visitors for now. We need to stabilize him before we move him back to the ICU. I suggest you folks go get something to eat. There's nothing you can here for the moment." The doctor looked as if he might say something else, but stopped, sighed again and disappeared the way he'd come.

The team stood silently digesting the news.

"He was dead for like ten minutes?" asked Tony looking to Ducky. "Is that possible?"

Ducky nodded. "Yes, but the longer someone is clinically dead, the more damage may occur. Brain damage, tissue damage and so on. Fortunately, he was already on a respirator and in the hands of a very capable physician so the damage may be minimized. But, the more often this happens, the more difficult it may become to revive him."

Again the team said nothing. The thought that McGee could end up brain damaged or worse was too disturbing for words.

Abby fidgeted restlessly. "I know there's nothing we can do, but I hate to leave. What if he wakes up and no one's here? He'll feel like we abandoned him!"

"My dear," said Ducky gently resting a hand on her arm. "I do not believe Timothy will be aware of anything for some time. Now is the time when we should take care of ourselves. We all need to eat and get some rest. Soon, he will need us all."

Abby chewed her lip and looked back at the ICU. Finally, her face crumpled as she fought back her tears. She nodded and allowed Ducky to lead her away with Palmer beside. For a moment, Gibbs, Tony, and Ziva stood as if undecided.

"Let's go." Gibbs turned and followed after the others. Tony and Ziva hesitated a moment longer before they too headed for the elevators.

xxx

Admiral McGee scowled at the folder on his desk. He'd just finished a meeting with a couple of idiot representatives from Louisiana who wanted the government to build a new naval base in their jurisdictions. God, he got tired of all the pork barrel projects that were tossed his way. He glanced at his watch. Well past dinner time. The work just never ended. Startled by the unexpected jangle of his phone, he dropped the folder spilling its contents across his desk. He softly cursed as he snatched up the receiver.

"Yes?"

"John, is that you?"

Admiral McGee frowned. "Mother?" He didn't care if she thought the term stemmed from some outdated paternalistic society. He refused to call her Penny.

"I just got back to the hotel. They said you've been trying to get hold of me. Sorry, but my cell phone doesn't seem to work over here."

Admiral McGee ran a hand across his face. "I needed to tell you something." He hesitated for just an instant. "Tim's been shot."

"What?" His mother's volume rose a notch. "Did you say Timothy's been shot?"

"Yes, Mother. The bullet was meant for me, but Tim got in the way."

There was a long silence. Finally, Penny spoke again, with just a slight quaver to her voice. "Are you telling me, that Timothy was shot protecting you? Is he alive? Will…will he be okay?"

The admiral sighed. "He's alive. Will he live? I don't know."

Another long silence as his mother absorbed this. "John, what are you doing at your office then? Why aren't you at the hospital at your son's side?" Now, she sounded angry. The admiral winced.

"There was nothing I could do there. He has very capable doctors and I had several important meetings I needed to attend." He stopped.

"Oh, really? Meetings?" He knew that tone. She was getting ready to rip him a new one. "You mean to say that it's more important to talk about some new ship or weapons system or uniform color than being at your wounded son's side at the hospital? What meeting could possibly more important than your own son's life? I always thought your father was cold and unfeeling, but you, John, you win the first place all time big asshole prize. I can't believe you're my son sometimes."

"Listen, Mother…" The admiral tried to break in, but she wasn't having any of it.

"Where is he? I want to call that hospital and check on him myself since you are apparently too busy. Then I'm going to tell Sara and Margaret and we're heading home immediately. And when I get there, you'd better be with him."

The admiral winced as she slammed the phone down in his ear. He cursed. Who was she to talk? She'd spent a lot of his childhood off at some protest or another. She was hardly a model of good parenting.

Fuming, he barely noticed Lt. Owens at the door.

"Sir? Is everything all right?"

"No, it sure as hell isn't all right. My mother has the gall to call me a bad parent. Do you know where she was when I was in a motorcycle accident back in 1972? She was at some anti-war demonstration in Chicago. She couldn't be bothered to come home until my aunt had to go bail her out of jail." Admiral McGee was on his feet now, pacing the room.

"Maybe I haven't always been there for Tim, but I'm sure as hell am here now." He paused. Owens simply watched.

"But maybe she's right," Admiral McGee sighed. "Why am I here and not at the hospital? I only meant to stay for that one meeting but there was always one more thing to do." He looked at Owens. "Jason, there will always be one more thing to do. Always something just a little more urgent than my own family. But what could really be more urgent than my own son's life?"

"Sir," said Lt. Owens stepping closer. "You are not just any man. Many people depend on you and the decisions you make. Sometimes people in your position don't always have the luxury of putting their own lives first."

"Well, maybe it's time I did." The admiral turned and sat back in his seat, his jaw firm. "Maybe it's time I resigned and put my family first for a change."

Owens stared at him, adeptly masking the panic he felt inside. The admiral simply couldn't resign. He was too important to waste his time sitting by the bedside of his incompetent son. Tim McGee didn't deserve a father like the admiral. He would have done better with someone like Steve Jobs or Bill Gates. Technology geeks. Admiral McGee had devoted his life to something far more important – the defense of his country. He was a true hero and Owens would be damned if he'd let someone as insignificant as Special Agent Timothy McGee derail the admiral's career. If the admiral really wanted to retire, that was one thing, but to give up his career to look after his son, a son he didn't even particularly like, well that, that was totally unacceptable. And Owens was not one to sit around and simply let things happen.

"Sir, are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, perhaps you should give it some thought. Discuss it with the Secretary of the Navy. You know he depends on you."

The admiral scowled. "You're probably right."

"I know you've got several big projects in the pipeline right now. It might be set things back if you drop it all into somebody else's lap without warning."

Admiral McGee looked up at Lt. Owens. "Jason, you are a very astute young man. You're right. I'm thinking emotionally right now, not objectively, and that always leads to trouble. However, I really should go check on Tim."

"You could call the hospital, sir. I have the surgeon's number. You have that meeting with Admiral Murray in an hour. I suppose we could reschedule if needed, but he's supposed to fly to Guam tomorrow."

"Damn. It's like I told you, there is always one more thing. Fine, get the surgeon on the line for me. If Tim is conscious then I should go over there. If not, and there isn't some imminent disaster, I'll meet with Murray."

"Yes, sir." Owens hurried from the office back to his desk. Once Admiral Murray arrived, Owens knew Admiral McGee would send him home. The admiral and Murray went way back and would probably head out for dinner and drinks. He glanced at his calendar. If he was released early, he could pay his weekly visit to his grandmother. Then, Lt. Owens might just take a little detour and pay the ailing Agent McGee a visit.

A/N: Sorry for the delay! Between a grandbaby ending up in the hospital again and these awful allergies, writing has kind of been pushed to back burner! Hopefully things will move ahead in a more timely fashion now.