Morgan watched Gibbs and Ducky walk past her window, purposefully keeping her gaze well away from McNeil but already she could feel it. Everything was building up, boiling beneath her skin, and she cursed the heart monitor that began to pick up its pace alongside her breathing.
"Morgan," McNeil said calmly, approaching with full knowledge of what was going on. "You need to let go."
She couldn't. Not again, not ever again.
"You can't hang onto this, Morgan," McNeil warned, standing beside her bed just in her peripherals because she suddenly couldn't look away from the window. "Trying to is only going to make things worse."
Morgan clenched her eyes shut, finally able to turn away but doubling over slightly and struggling to regain control. Her breath was coming out in quick gasps and she couldn't seem to catch her breath; her hands clasped into fists around her sheets as nausea twisted in her gut. She needed control. She had to have some control because Levi had stripped her of all of it. Nothing she had done worked. She fought him tooth and nail and if it weren't for that desk happening to have a letter opener on it that happened to land within reach, he would have taken a lot more than that. She would have lost everything again. Would have been stripped of everything that mattered to her again except it was worse. So much worse.
Gibbs knew. He had to have known. He was there, wasn't he? When Levi was on top of her? She couldn't remember, didn't want to remember. The feeling of his hands, his mouth, the bite of his fingers pressing into her wounds and—"
"Morgan!"
Her eyes snapped open and she stared wide-eyed and unfocused at McNeil, who'd roughly shaken her to get her attention.
"Breathe," the woman ordered, prying one of her hands out of her tangled sheets and pressing it to her chest. "In time with me. In… out."
She tried. She did her best to follow the woman's instructions and after some time, her panicked breathing slowed to something more manageable. It wasn't her first panic attack and certainly wouldn't be her last after this. It all just reminded her too much of the last time and those old feelings of despair were already creeping at the edges of her mind.
McNeil gave her hand a squeeze, lightly placing it back on her lap but not letting go just yet. "Talk, Morgan. Even if you don't want to because I know you won't speak to Gibbs on this."
"I-I can't," Morgan said, breath but a whisper.
"I know, but you have to tell someone and right now, I'm the only one you have who knows about everything. I know this reminds you of Afghanistan but unless you want to end up like you did after that, you need to talk. Too many things went wrong back then. This is your opportunity to not make those mistakes again." McNeil pulled the chair behind her over, sitting down beside her and not once letting her hand go to try and physically keep her grounded. "One step at a time. Pick one thing and talk."
Morgan was quiet for a moment, allowing the noise of the busy hospital chatter away for a minute, reminding her that she wasn't there anymore. Not in that hot desert full of pain, and not in the hands of Levi.
"I killed him," was the first thing to tumble from her mouth, and McNeil nodded.
"Yes, you did. You fought to defend yourself and in that moment, it was the only option you had."
"...I got lucky."
"You did."
"He would have raped me."
"Yes, he would have, but he didn't," McNeil pressed. "And you cannot blame yourself for taking the action you did when he was trying to."
Morgan said nothing but grimaced for a second, having begun to clench her jaw only for pain to remind her she couldn't.
"But he could have," she argued. "I couldn't stop him. I-If I hadn't found that letter opener—If Gibbs hadn't found me…"
"You cannot be in control of everything. You don't have that power. Nobody does, Morgan. All the training in the world wouldn't have helped in that situation."
Morgan turned to her, angry. "You don't know that. If I had been stronger—"
"You were stabbed," McNeil reminded her, voice sharp. "Multiple times, Morgan. You had fractured ribs! You were exhausted because that bastard was stalking you and preventing you from having any sleep! You could not have won in that situation. Anyone else would have failed! They would have failed long before you did!"
"But I—"
"You were strong! You fought back every chance that you had, and I don't have to be there or ask you to know that you did because that is the kind of person you are, Morgan. You did the same in Afghanistan and I know that period was hard on you, but you are still here. You fought just as much back then as you did now, if not more so, and that is what you need to focus on. Your strength."
Morgan bit her tongue, doing her best to take those words in as she turned her gaze back down to her sheets. McNeil took a breath, calming down herself despite the frustration she felt for Morgan having ended up in such a situation. The woman had been through Hell and to have to go through it again—even for a moment—was more than frustrating. It would set back any progress they made in their sessions regarding Afghanistan and would bring up new ones because things were different now. Morgan had an actual life. She had friends and Gibbs and opportunities to do good for others and for herself. All things she never even thought of, leading up to now, and McNeil was determined to not allow her to throw those things away because of this.
She lightly pulled her hand back, leaning back in her chair with a heavy sigh. "What are you going to do moving forward?"
Morgan shifted, wincing a little as her injuries ached. "What do you mean?"
"For one, I'm going to talk to the doctors about getting you on different pain medications," McNeil said, giving her a sharp look. "No morphine. It might make your pain more noticeable but we do not want a repeat of Afghanistan. Drug addiction is harder to deal with and it will compromise your job. Can we agree on that much?"
Morgan nodded, knowing she was right and… really wanting to keep her position at NCIS. It was the first time she felt that way about a job. The army was one thing but this wasn't about just needing to keep busy. She had the team, Gibbs, the work, and the cases. All of it was important to her and she knew full well that getting off a morphine addiction was not fun. It wasn't worth the risk.
"I'll be dropping in frequently as well," McNeil added, folding her arms and drumming her fingers on the crook of her elbow. "You have my number and I'll make sure the doctor and nurses are aware. If at any point, you feel you might relapse—whether it be the drugs, causing yourself pain, or whatever else—I want you to call me or ask for me to be called. I don't care if it's three in the morning and you had a vivid nightmare that has you frightened or fighting the hospital staff."
Morgan gave her a look at that but didn't argue. "Okay."
McNeil narrowed her eyes. "I mean it. Even if you think it's stupid or a weakness. I don't care. You call me."
She closed her eyes with a soft sigh. "I'll call."
"Good. The other thing is you need to talk to Gibbs."
Morgan flinched, reaching up and pressing her fingers against her eyes. "I'd prefer not to."
McNeil rolled her eyes. "The fun thing about relationships is typically the other person wants to talk with you. In this case, you had something traumatic happen and it was traumatic to you both. Not talking about it will cause trouble if you wish to remain in your relationship with Gibbs."
"I don't even get time to deal with it?" Morgan argued lightly, peering over at her in exhaustion.
"I'm not telling you to give him everything, nor am I telling you to talk right away about what's bothering you. I'm just suggesting you talk to him and reassure him."
Morgan frowned lightly at that. "Reassure… Gibbs?"
"Yes," McNeil said bluntly. "Much like you, he thinks too hard about things. In this case, you were sexually and physically assaulted. You don't really believe that that had no effect on him, do you?"
Morgan glanced down at her wrist, remembering how Gibbs had taken it but just as quickly released it. How he'd been standing so much further away from her bed than Ducky and McNeil. How cautious he was being.
"He will have his concerns too," McNeil explained. "You need to let him know where you stand so he can figure out what changes need to happen and what don't. You will both want things to happen a certain way and doing that without talking will just lead to more problems that neither of you need to deal with while you're in recovery. You don't want him being controlling and he doesn't want you to ignore what happened. Talk about it."
"Fine," Morgan grumbled, not thrilled to do so but knowing that she was right.
"Good," she hummed, getting up and nodding to the door. "I'll let them know they can come back in and go speak with the doctor. Don't let Doctor Mallard do all the talking, please."
Morgan sighed and sank back against her pillow once more, exhausted but watching the woman leave and silently feeling grateful that this time, she wouldn't end up on her own.
Ducky did end up talking a majority of the time, but he and McNeil left not too long after she returned and the doctor changed out Morgan's morphine drip for something less potent. Gibbs had stuck around though, and had permission to stay from the hospital staff; only stepping out of the room to get something to eat or drink for himself. When it came time for lights out, Morgan watched him grab a discarded blanket to get settled on the armchair in the corner.
"You don't have to stay," she murmured, making him pause what he was doing but not look at her.
"Do you want me to go?"
A heavy pressure began to build up in Morgan's chest at his words and she grimaced, bringing a hand up to her jaw in pain from clenching her teeth again. Gibbs sighed and set the blanket down on the chair, turning away.
"I'll leave if you want me to."
"F-For fuck's sake," Morgan hissed out, willing the pain to go away for a moment but without the morphine it was harder for her to deal with. "J-Just give me a minute."
Gibbs nodded and started to head for the door, making Morgan's eyes go wide. She reached out toward him to stop him but the harsh flare of pain went through her fractured ribs, making her falter as a gasp of pain escaped her lips. She had been close to the edge of her bed too, starting to fall before Gibbs grabbed her to steady her. Once mostly upright, he began to pull away but she was quick to grab his arm and stop him, glaring up at him in annoyance.
"G-Give me a minute… t-to catch my breath," she bit out, refusing to let him go as he stood there somewhat hesitantly.
He wanted to give her space and was willing to if she asked for it, but he was getting mixed messages. He wanted to stay. He would give up anything for this incident to have never happened and everything to be back to how it was, but the world didn't work that way. So he was holding himself back for her sake. He didn't know what else to do because comforting her seemed to be the last thing people wanted in these sorts of situations.
"I didn't… want you to leave," Morgan admitted, letting him go and gingerly resting back on her bed with an arm wrapped around her side.
"You told me—"
"I know," she groaned, peering open an eye to glare at him. "You're sleeping on a goddamn chair, Gibbs."
"It's fine."
"It's not fine," she argued. "You look as bad as I do and I don't want you forcing yourself to stay here for me."
"I'm not forcing myself," Gibbs countered, frowning. "I'm here because I want to be, Morgan."
She scoffed, shooting him a look. "Then, why were you so quick to misunderstand me and try to leave?"
He closed his eyes and dragged a hand through his hair, dropping into the chair beside her bed. "What do you want me to do, Morgan?"
"I want you to do what you need. Fuckin' ignore me for one minute and get some actual sleep in an actual bed and—"
"And know that you'll be here the entire night alone with whatever Hell that bastard left you with?" Gibbs snapped back. "I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway."
He expected an argument from her at that, but she just looked away, unable to deny that the upcoming nights weren't going to be pleasant.
"I don't want you to see me like that," she muttered after a moment.
"Morgan, I've already seen—"
"No," she stopped him, turning toward him and making his words catch in his throat at the more vulnerable look on her face. "Not like this."
Gibbs twisted his hands together, leaning forward on his knees to stare at the ground for a moment. "I don't want you to deal with that alone… even if there's nothing I can do."
"I… I-I can't talk about it," Morgan told him, throat tight.
"I'm not asking you to."
Morgan let out a shaky breath, draping an arm over her eyes. "Why? Why are you doing this?"
"Morgan—"
"What about me is worth it? What about any of this mess is worth it to you? Fuck, Gibbs. I'm the biggest shit show you could find and you're being nice?"
Gibbs cracked the slightest of smiles. "Am I not supposed to be nice?"
Morgan lifted her hand to flip him off and he shook his head.
"I'm here because I care, Morgan," he informed her. "I want you to get through this, and doing it alone would make it that much harder. I'm no Russell, but I'll do what I can to help."
"Then, stop hesitating," Morgan grumbled, lowering her arm and getting a confused look from him before she rolled her eyes. "Come here."
He stared at her for a moment before she groaned.
"Come here so I don't kill myself trying to get to you."
He got up and stepped closer to the bed, leaning down when she waved him closer still, before she reached up. She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his as he stiffened momentarily in surprise. He soon relaxed though, and she pulled back with a huff.
"You are nothing like him," she said pointedly, her gaze serious. "And I won't ever mistake you for being like him. So, stop hesitating."
Gibbs eyed her and let out a soft sigh. "Alright." He reached up and brushed a finger lightly over one of the cuts on her face. "Okay… just… try to talk about it. Don't leave me questioning what's changed."
"Nothing's changed."
He lightly shook his head, pulling away. "Things will change. You can't ignore what happened."
"You sound like McNeil," Morgan sighed, sinking back against her pillow as the pain and exhaustion began to settle in.
"Just means she was saying something right."
Morgan cracked a smile with a small snort, closing her eyes as Gibbs sat beside her bed and took her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it as she started to drift off.
"I'll be here if you need me."
She let out a small hum, squeezing his hand slightly. "...always… need you…"
Morgan wasn't wrong about how bad things would get. The nightmares were out of control to the point where she was actively restrained multiple times while sleeping in order to prevent her from attacking the nurses and doctors who stepped in to help calm her down. Gibbs helped as best he could but her being half asleep, in pain, and struggling to tell what was and wasn't real left him with few options. Him just being there though, meant she calmed down much faster and police officers weren't brought in. In fact, the hospital staff agreed to let him handle her alone after a few nights, with a nurse standing by just inside the door should his efforts not work. They only needed to drug her once to help calm her down and after a week, things had gotten far better.
She was back on her sleeping medication—the doctors wouldn't let her take anything until she was prescribed by the hospital—and after a long discussion with McNeil, she was given her usual medication to help with her PTSD and anxiety. During the day, she was fine, other than some bitterness from the pain she was dealing with. Her words were clipped and a bit sharp but Gibbs couldn't blame her. He's spoken to McNeil for a bit—when she was particularly nasty one day—and while the woman wouldn't say much, what she didn't say was enough to give him an idea of how bad this situation was for Morgan. It might as well have been a repeat of her experience in Afghanistan, if only for a moment.
He suspected as much and there were things he knew Morgan wouldn't tell him for a long while, though again, he had a general idea. Torture and being assaulted were a given, but her being taken off the morphine clued him into other possible issues. He was beginning to feel like he didn't really know Morgan as well as he thought. He hoped to rectify that but knew it would take time, especially given her current situation.
The rest of the team had come to visit as well, taking turns to not overwhelm her and being sure to call Gibbs ahead of time to make sure they weren't intruding on one of her bad days. They got permission to bring Russell in too, allowing the two of them to meet up again for the first time in a couple of weeks once they were sure they could both handle it. Russell was still recovering and Abby was taking it easy with him, limiting his exercise as the vet directed. Then, they wanted to wait for Morgan to be a little more stable per her doctor's instructions. So, it wasn't until two weeks after her admission to the hospital that they allowed them to meet up.
It was a welcome relief to everyone who was there—Abby even shedding a few tears when Russell fussed and whined over Morgan. Morgan too, was more relaxed after their meeting, even if it was only a short visit. As much as Russell wanted to stay, they still needed their rest, so Abby took him back for the moment. Until both were less inhibited by their injuries, short visits were all they were allowed. Gibbs expected that to be frustrating for her but if anything, it pushed her to do better.
She started physical therapy that week, and while she did her exercises as she was told, it often left her crankier and more than unhappy because of the pain it caused her afterward. By week three, she was given the go-ahead to leave the hospital and begrudgingly agreed to spend her time at Gibbs'. She was stuck with a cane to assist her weakened leg for another couple of weeks and while Gibbs expected her to fight more on that, she did as she was told. Whether it was McNeil, her doctor at the hospital, her physical therapist, or even him. She would grumble and complain but always listened to what they told her. He asked her once, when he came home from work and found her covered in sweat, pain etched on her face, and diligently doing her exercises to help rebuild her strength.
"Do you follow orders because of your army training or for fun?" He quipped, hanging up his coat and earning an annoyed look from her as she finished up her rep.
"Why the hell would I follow orders for fun?"
He shrugged, cracking a smile and being grateful that they were still able to banter like this as he grabbed the towel she'd set aside to wipe her sweat. She huffed, taking it from him and accepting her cane as well as she hobbled to the sofa nearby.
"Following instructions—especially those made by doctors—is the quickest way to stop having to do all these stupid exercises," she grumbled. "I don't want to be like this any longer than I have to."
"Don't push yourself," Gibbs lightly warned, getting another frown from her as she opened the water bottle waiting for her on the coffee table alongside a bottle of pain medication.
"That would be the opposite of forward progress," she replied, taking the pills and drinking a good amount of water before continuing. "It's frustrating but I do what they tell me—no more, no less—so long as it's proving beneficial. The army was different."
"So, you didn't just follow orders in the army…?"
"I followed most orders," she huffed, leaning back on the sofa and closing her eyes. "I don't just blindly follow whatever anyone says. I got lucky and those orders I didn't follow were either lawsuits in the making, so the superiors ignored my insubordination, or they weren't meant to be followed in the first place."
Gibbs hummed, moving to the kitchen and grabbing himself a beer. He would have given one to Morgan, but she was barred from drinking with some of her medication and had stubbornly refused alcohol or her usual energy drinks until she was off the meds completely.
"Have you eaten yet?"
"No, just the lunch you left for me." She shot him a look. "Which I said you didn't have to do."
He shrugged, having started making her lunch or at least ordering something for her when he could. He'd gone back to work, so the majority of his days were in the bullpen, and he had slight reservations about whether she would eat or not. She always argued that she would, but he still remembered the previous incident where she sliced her hand while being out of sorts and didn't want to risk it. Plus, her standing for long periods was still proving to be a bit too much for her leg to handle.
"Take out?" He asked, and she shrugged, letting him order pizza for the both of them.
This was how they spent most evenings, both tired from how they spent their days and settling for crap television and a hot meal. Gibbs had held back from pushing things with their relationship for the moment, given what had happened as well as her not seemingly interested by the end of the day. She was still hurt, both physically and mentally, no matter how hard she tried not to show it… Not that he wasn't tempted.
His gaze flickered to the crook of her neck where her skin was marred by a healing yellow bruise and the remnants of a hard bite. Looking at it made him sick and angry and desperate to erase the mark of claim with one of his own. Then, he would swallow it down and turn away, looking at whatever was on the TV without actually seeing it until the food arrived. Then, he got a call the next morning.
A naval officer was standing on the edge of a rooftop and it was Gibbs' job to stop him and find out why. Lieutenant Michael Arnett started off as reluctant to get down and right when Gibbs had begun to convince him—taking his hand to lead him off—he was shot. Gibbs felt responsible for it and made it his sole duty to find out what happened and who had done it, but he kept getting stonewalled by the man's CO. He'd been so focused on the case that by the time he noticed that it was late and he should head home for the night, he realized he'd not checked in with Morgan at all and had forgotten about her lunch.
He rushed home, noting that it was even later than he thought and dinner might be off the table as well. He got out of his car and headed inside with an apology on his lips that fell short. Morgan was asleep on the couch; television left on a news station talking about his current case, and a dirty plate on the table beside her. His shoulders sagged, and he removed his coat and headed over, grabbing the plate and spotting a note tucked just under it.
Food's in the fridge
He sighed quietly, pulling a blanket off the back of the sofa and draping it over her, brushing his knuckles over her cheek briefly before going to eat what she'd made for him. He noticed she'd left her dishes unwashed in the sink but also spotted one of the kitchen chairs pulled over near the counter. Her injuries had been acting up while she cooked, apparently, so he didn't mind that she hadn't stayed to clean up. He cleaned up everything once he finished eating and went to change, returning downstairs with another blanket for himself as he joined her on the other side of the corner sofa. He reached over and ran his fingers through her hair, his mind drifting to various things. He noticed her hair had grown quite a bit while she was in the hospital and wondered if she'd get it cut back again. He thought about bringing Russell back over tomorrow so they could get settled together with one another again, now that Abby was reporting Russell had been given the all-clear by his vet to return to work. He still should take it easy but he was at least allowed to run again.
Morgan's health would take longer but Gibbs knew she needed Russell while he was at work, and in general, he missed seeing the two of them together. They were both getting antsy on their own and if he was lucky, Gibbs might get permission to have Morgan at least sit in on cases, even if she wasn't on active duty. She had one more week with the mandatory use of her cane, then another week of optional use and she still needed to build back up her strength. Her side was her biggest limitation right now, given how much damage Levi had caused, but already she was doing well.
She rolled over with a grumble, blearily opening her eyes and Gibbs froze, half expecting a bad reaction from her but she just sighed, grasping his hand and closing her eyes again.
"You're late," she murmured, voice slightly slurred from exhaustion.
"Bad case," he responded quietly, earning a hum.
"Not your fault."
Of course, she saw… "I know."
She frowned slightly, squeezing his hand but saying nothing more as she drifted back to sleep. Gibbs sighed and rolled onto his back, keeping hold of her hand and closing his eyes, feeling at least a little better about what had happened.
"Thanks," Morgan muttered in the elevator, leaning on her cane and refusing to look at Gibbs beside her.
He raised a brow. "This is new."
She shot him a glare, adjusting her stance with a small wince of pain. "Then, next time, I won't say anything."
He smiled back. "You're planning on a next time?"
She rolled her eyes as the elevator opened up. "Active duty or not, you got me back in the bullpen."
Gibbs nodded to the side where McNeil was waiting just outside her office. "Thank her. Jenny refused to let you step foot in here until she gave the okay."
"For good reason, too," McNeil said as they approached, giving Morgan a once-over. "You look well-rested."
Morgan shrugged. "Got lucky. Pain meds worked well last night."
"That's good. You're getting Russell back as well today, yes?"
Morgan nodded as Gibbs spoke up.
"He's downstairs with Abby. I'll bring him up once you two are done."
He split off from them and Morgan eyed him for a second before following McNeil into her office.
"So? How are things?" The woman asked, moving behind her desk as Morgan settled into a chair and leaned her cane up against it. "You're still using the cane then?"
Morgan nodded. "It's optional now, but I've been having issues with standing and walking for long periods of time. The physical therapist said it's normal after being forced to sit around when I'm used to being active… and also mentioned possible psychological issues."
McNeil nodded, scribbling something in her notebook. "Which we've discussed already. Traumatic events leave scars on more than just our physical selves. It's just your body's way of telling you that you're not fully okay with what happened and that there may be something bothering you or holding you back."
"Hence the mandatory extra therapy sessions," Morgan grumbled, propping her elbow up on the arm of the chair and resting her chin in her hand.
McNeil just offered her a small smile. "The extra sessions have been helping, haven't they?"
Morgan frowned and didn't answer, knowing she was right.
"So, shall we discuss what you might be hung up on?" McNeil asked, leaning back in her seat. "Have you spoken to Gibbs?"
Morgan pursed her lips. "No."
"Okay, have you at least talked to him about your boundaries?"
She nodded. "A little. I told him that I didn't want him to leave or hesitate. He's fine… touching at least."
"Alright, so you've rebuilt a little of your relationship. Have you progressed at all?"
Morgan awkwardly looked away, and McNeil sighed.
"I understand that this situation might have become a roadblock for you—"
"It's not because of Levi," Morgan cut her off, drawing an uncertain look from McNeil.
"You're sure…?"
Morgan hesitated. "I'm… pretty sure. I wasn't… I couldn't…" She frowned, trying to think of how to explain. "I've never been in this sort of situation before."
"A relationship," McNeil clarified, making a note in her notepad idly. "So, you've been hesitating on moving on to the next step. Do you know why?"
"Why?"
She nodded. "Trauma is one reason, but if you're certain what happened with Levi isn't the problem, then you have to look at other potential reasons. Are you… embarrassed?"
Morgan scowled at the idea of being embarrassed but also knew that there were instances where she was; especially when Gibbs was affectionate in front of the team. It was rare, but it still happened.
"I… am when he does something in public."
She hummed. "Which is understandable. A lot of people in relationships make agreements on what is or isn't allowed in public. Some are more comfortable with it, while others aren't. There usually isn't the same problem in private, though, so is this something else?"
Morgan ran a hand through her hair, grimacing at the length of it now that it was reaching down past her ears. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know the first thing about what to do. I… I-I managed to do something at the hospital, but a kiss is hardly much, right? He's had multiple wives and—"
"Morgan—"
"—has more experience but he's also teasing me with it. And thanks to fuckin' Levi, he's still hesitating a bit. Nothing has happened since then."
"Morgan."
Morgan looked over at her and frowned. "What?"
McNeil cracked a small, amused smile. "As much as I'm enjoying you scrambling a little, I do believe you're overthinking it. If you are ready for something more, then you are more than welcome to make that first move. You don't need to wait for Gibbs to do it.
"But—"
"And as the person with more experience, you can let him lead after letting him know you want to push it. From there, both of you need to say what your limits are. Even if you're in the middle of something, consent is important, especially with your history. You might think that the situation with Levi hasn't impacted anything, but it's possible that or even Afghanistan will come up while you're in the middle of things. You need to make sure you are conversing."
Morgan frowned lightly before letting out a huff. "We'll figure it out."
McNeil chuckled, adding to her notes for a moment. "Well, I'm glad to see you've gotten your spirit back. Now, let's discuss you getting back to work."