She stands in a room full of people. She raises her glass of water to toast the room of at least a hundred other faces. Her anxiety only rises as she sees a set of icy blue eyes. She doesn't allow his presence to deter her intentions. She forces a smile, and begins a gracious speech. Everyone claps, and she retires to her seat. She feels awkward in the reception hall used for receptions, bar mitzvahs, birthday parties, and of course retirement parties.
This isn't the first time she's been here. This is, of course the first time that the event was for her. Her retirement party. To put it simply it feels unreal. She's too young to retire. She's too young to be widowed…twice. She takes a deep breath, and then exhales. As she exhales her midsection catches her eye. She quickly shifts her glance, and changes her posture. The plates are cleared, and couples head to the dance floor. She vacates her seat, and wanders past the bar. She stares longingly at a champagne flute. She blinks, and turns towards the dance floor. She finds herself face to face with a silver fox. She rolls her eyes, and takes a step to the right.
"Wait," he says quietly, but firmly.
She nods, giving him the go ahead.
"Play along," he suggests.
"Uh huh."
He takes a step closer. She pretends to be interested in him. How much is real interest, and how much is fake is unclear even to her as he whispers in her ear. He whispers into her ear, and it sends chills down her spine, for all the wrong reasons. It's not what he says. She doesn't respond to him. He leans in again, and repeats the question.
"Do you know the guy at my nine o'clock?"
She grins, and takes a step back. She subtly looks to her right.
"No, not at all," she laughs.
"Can I have this dance?" He asks her.
"Yes," she nods.
He leads her onto the dance floor. She feels her pulse quicken as he stands uncomfortably close to her. Once again he leans in, and whispers in her ear.
"Let me lead."
He takes the first step, and they subtly survey the crowd as he spins her around the dance floor. This time it's her turn to get intimately close. She smiles, and plays the part as his hand rests on the small of her back. She whispers into his ear.
"One more at your three o'clock."
He spins her, and then dips her to get a better look. He tips her back up, and they continue to twirl around the floor. He leads her back to his table. She takes a seat next to him.
"How do you expect me to protect you when security made me surrender my weapon at the door?"
"You can have mine," she smiles coyly.
"You wanna give it to me?"
She shakes her head, "I don't need you to protect me."
"You have no idea what their intentions are," he keeps their conversation hushed.
"Neither do you."
"I need…"
She slips his hand off the table. She places it on her leg. He furrows his brow, but quickly realizes what she's doing as she moves his hand up her leg. His fingers wrap around something cold, and metal. He proceeds to slide it down her leg. She pushes her chair away from the table, and rises to her feet. She leans over him as he subtly tucks her back up into the pocket of his jacket. She turns to leave. He marvels at how nicely she makes a marine uniform look. He's too caught up in her smile to notice anything else.
A shot rings out. It hits the General in the chest. She falls to the ground, hitting her head against the hard floor as she crashes down. Gibbs rises from his chair, and returns fire as the crowd disperses. He hits the shooter in the head. He hears the sound of a gun cocking from behind him. He spins around, and finds the second assailant standing over Sarah. She lies on the floor with a bullet in her chest.
Her chest rises and falls slowly, and shallowly. She shows signs of labored breathing. Falling to the ground, and hitting her head have knocked her unconscious. The second assailant aims at her head. Before he can fire McGee comes out of the background, and disarms him, knocking the gun to the floor. He quickly cuffs him.
Law enforcement agencies show up, and take witness statements. McGee takes the living suspect in to custody. Ducky arrives quickly to attend to the body. Gibbs follows the EMT's to their vehicle. They load Sarah into the back of the ambulance. He joins them with no objections. Sarah's eyes pop open.
She feels groggy. Her head throbs, and she feels as if she has a vice grip around her chest. She survey's her surroundings, and notices an EMT with a pair of scissors. It takes her a moment, but she formulates a clear thought.
"Stop!"
The EMT hesitates, "We need to get your uniform off so that we can see where the bullet went. Cutting the uniform off is the quickest way."
She rolls her eyes, "I'm fine. Do you see any blood?"
"No ma'am, but…"
"I know where the bullet went."
"Ma'am please just let us check you out," he begs.
She sits up in the gurney. She quickly unbuttons her uniform. She removes the top half of her uniform to reveal a Kevlar vest.
"I am going to need you to take the vest off too, so I can see what kind of damage the impact did."
She looks at the other people in the vehicle with her. One EMT sits on a bench next to Gibbs. She nods, and looks in Gibbs direction.
"Can you give us a minute?"
"Ma'am it will only take a moment for me to assess you," the EMT explains, clearly frustrated with her non-compliant attitude.
She rolls her eyes, "Fine." She pulls the Velcro tabs on the sides of her vest. She wears a t-shirt underneath the Kevlar vest.
"I suppose you want me to take the t-shirt off too," she adds.
"That would help," he agrees.
"Can this wait?"
"No, it cannot."
"It's just a bruise I'll be fine."
"It needs to come off. I can cut it off if you prefer."
She shakes her head, and reluctantly peels the shirt over her head.