A/N: Ok, I think we can all agree that drabble is not my forte! The more, I get into this plot, the more I want to explore Brody and LaSalle going undercover but first things first. I will not start another story, until the others are finished, I will not...

For next several hours Brody sought solitude within the walls of Loretta's guest cottage, shutting everything and everyone out. Anxiety and self-loathing were beginning to take over. Why did this keeping happening to her? She had just gotten over the security detail debacle and was starting to feel like family. Why?

Frustrated, she fisted her hair as she paced the floor. She wanted to break something and then scream until her voice was spent. No matter how she tried she couldn't escape the reality that she had shot her partner in the chest. God, if she could only take it back!

Her cell phone rang and her first thought was to ignore the call, but instead she picked it up.

"Brody"

"Where the hell are you?" Percy's voice demanded, hinting on a sense of urgency.

Did it really matter? She already knew why Percy was calling. LaSalle either woke up and was asking for her or… Brody continued to pace, praying against the worst.

"They just rushed LaSalle into surgery. Something about a bleedin' artery." Percy explained, "Loretta's says-"

A bleeding artery courtesy of the bullet she had put in his chest.

Unable to take what might be coming, Brody pressed the end call button and fired the phone into the wall. Holding her stomach she slid to the hardwood floor. She was crying hysterically now. Loud uncontrollable sobs, that threaten to choke the life out her. For the first time in years, she was actually crying, balling on the floor like a child wailing for her mama to come and make everything right.

That wasn't going to happen.

The next morning, Brody awoke to find herself curled up tight, her knees were almost up in her chest. Swiping at her face, she felt the aftermath of a swollen nasal cavity and stinging red eyes. Her throat felt raw and sore. At some point she was certain she had been screaming, but didn't actually want to admit it.

The thought of staying in bed all day with the covers over her head, waiting to die sounded like a good idea until she realized that she was wide awake. Now, all she would do was to think of-

Chris- she swallowed feeling the pain beginning to wallow up inside her chest. Pushing back the covers, she padded into the living room where she had left her phone. It was still on the floor near the wall. The screen was cracked but thankfully, it wasn't broken.

17 missed calls. Most of them were from Percy and there was one from Pride. God, what a coward they must think she is. At the moment she couldn't deny it. Pure unadulterated searing fear had driven her away and made her run.

That's what she was good at.

She shuddered to think if Chris was still alive as she scrolled through the list of unanswered calls and made the decision to not to listen to any of messages. She didn't know what she would do if she were to find out that LaSalle was dead.

Momentarily she thought about marching to her liquor cabinet and drowning herself in a bottle of her best red wine, but then thought differently. What good would that do? It would only serve as a temporary numbing agent.

No matter what she decided to do there was no way out of this hell. The reality that she had shot Chris and now maybe even killed him was never going away. Even if he survived and managed to bounce back, there would always be something standing in between them. How would he ever be able to trust her again? How would she ever be able to look at him, knowing that she had almost ended his life? No matter how this situation turned out, it wasn't going to be good.

Woodenly, she walked over to her computer and opened up the human resources page for NCIS. There was an opening in the Pacific Northwest, Washington State.

Running Again?

A new start she scoffed. Look how good this one had turned out.

Maybe it was time to resign she reasoned as a knock sounded at the door. Her first thought was not to answer it as they banged on the door again. Whoever it was they were persistent.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the leftover sting of last night's tears and pulled to feet. Shuffling to the door, she looked through the peep hole. It was Percy. Great, she was probably here to tell her that LaSalle had died. She didn't want to hear it, she didn't.

Turing the door handle, she looked down a t the pint sized agent with a vacant, broken look.

Great tears, Percy groaned as Brody braced herself for the worst.

Percy shook her head. She had never been the emotional type. "Girl, get dressed and get your ass down to that hospital right now, before I drag you down there myself!"

One hour later, Brody stood outside of the ICU cubicle, staring at Chris through the glass. He was still alive but he looked bad real bad. As it turned out, the fishing line that Oliver had used to tie off one of the bleeding arteries had broken loose. The doctors had to go back in repair everything, despite the onset of sepsis.

Thankfully, his body had decided to respond to the antibiotics they were giving him.

"Well, don't just stand there. Get your ass in there and talk to him," Percy barked, giving Brody a nudge. "The man's not going to bite you." He wasn't even awake.

Brody allowed a small smile to form to her lips as her new partner glared at her heatedly.

"Here goes nothing." She breathed as she slipped through the doorway.

He looked peaceful; relaxed she thought as studied the calm features of his face. But that damn beard made him look so different, so unlike himself, evil in a way, representing the dark the persona that was so uncharacteristically him. A knot started to form in her chest. What if when he woke up he wasn't Chris anymore? What if being undercover for so long had changed him? Brody couldn't stand the thought. Losing Savannah had already changed him somewhat, making his infectious smile diminish.

Savannah, she sighed knowing that her death had been the reason he'd taken on this assignment in the first place. Oh sure, blame a dead woman because you shot your partner! she berated herself as she noticed her sister's leather band sticking out from underneath the hospital gown.

She was thankful to see that Loretta had managed to slip the medallion back around his neck. At least he wouldn't have an anxiety attack worrying about it when he woke up.

Waking up she mused. Given the situation, the thought of actually having to face LaSalle and what she had done was only second to the possibly of his death. She couldn't do it. She was done. Extending her hand, she gently stoked the side of his face before leaning over and pecking his cheek.

"Goodbye, Chris."

A/N: See why I thinking of posting this separately. This story has become a monster of a plotline!