Returning (Chapter 12)
Title: Returning (Chapter 12)
Author: Purerose
Fandom: NCIS
Prompt: 022 Blood
Character/Pairing: Kate/Gibbs
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1352
Summary: Kate visits the hospital.
Authors Notes/Disclaimer: NCIS not mine. Just borrowing the characters... they'll be in more or less the same state when I return them.
Thanks for the comments, it's good fun reading them (and having conversations through them). I'm going back to Uni this week which means that updates will probably slow down a little again (at least I've managed to get three - plus this one - up this week, which is quite and achievement). I'll aim to get at least one a week up, Saturday and Sunday will be the main days, I have a half day on Wednesday too, so if I'm back early enough then I'll be able to upload stuff then.
But at least I'll have the travelling time to spend writing. Each day I spend about an hour and a half on a train plus an hour on a boat... and time spent on boats is good for writing NCIS fanfic. :D
Anyway, on with the story:
[ Chapter 1] [ Chapter 2] [ Chapter 3] [ Chapter 4] [ Chapter 5] [ Chapter 6] [ Chapter 7] [ Chapter 8] [ Chapter 9] [ Chapter 10] [ Chapter 11]
A numb feeling washed over you the moment that you stepped within the hospital doors. It was as though you have walked into an icy shower. The only thing that you were conscious of feeling was your heart pounding in your chest. If it wasn’t for the stroller that you are leaning on, you’re sure that you would have collapsed. Your legs seem to shake with each step.
The first person that you see in the waiting room is Ducky. He looks years older than he did when you met him for lunch two days ago. His left arm is supported in a sling and he studies the floor, only looking up when one of the girls calls out “Ducky!”
He gives them a small smile and then looks up at you. At once the smile fades and he looks serious. “Caitlin.”
“Oh God. Ducky.” You sigh and stop in your tracks, surveying his bandaged arm and red stained shirt. The pristine white constrasts sharply with the deep red on his clothes. Something tells you that it isn’t all his. Fear strikes you and your own blood runs cold.
Ducky follows your gaze. “Oh. This is nothing. When I was eighteen I…” He looks up at you again and trails off. You don’t see him walking towards you, you’ve hung your head and tears have filled your eyes, everything becomes a blur.
When he wraps his right arm around you in an awkward one-armed hug you break down. It’s seems ridiculous but you needed to cry.
Before you have an opportunity to speak to him a woman in a white lab coat appears. You pull away from Ducky and wipe your eyes, the world comes back into focus and you note that she is almost smiling. Your stomach flip flops and you begin to feel hopeful.
You listen to what she has to say without really hearing any of it. Ducky nods and asks questions using complex medical terms while bouncing Elizabeth on his knee. You let the information wash over you until the doctor turns directly to you and asks if you’d like to see him now.
You want to laugh. Of course you do! And yet you don’t. Gibbs is quite possibly the strongest person that you know. The thought of seeing him vulnerable and wounded scares you.
When you get to your feet and follow the doctor down the corridor you feel a certain sense of reluctance. It feels like the longest walk of your life. Your footsteps echo down the long corridor. The florescent lights cast an odd yellow glow on the otherwise beige hallway. With each step you chant a little mantra in your mind, ‘I’m ready for this, I’m ready for this’ over and over again. But deep down you know that nothing can prepare you for seeing him like this.
The doctor is several steps in front of you. You are aware of the soft clicking sound made by her shoes and little else. The corridor seems endless. The rooms and hallways opening off from it are all dark and it disturbs you to think that the place this reminds you of most is Ducky’s morgue. You push the thought away and take several quick steps to catch up.
It suddenly hits you that you don’t know the doctor’s name. She only introduced herself half an hour ago. You wonder how much of the conversation you missed. Did she tell you something that was truly important? Something that you should prepare yourself for before you see your children’s father? You wrack your brain trying to conjure up a little snippet of the exchange but your mind is blank and your body is numb.
Doctor what-ever-her-name-is pauses at a room at the far end of the corridor. She turns and looks back, waiting for you to catch up. There are green curtains at the window, drawn so that you can’t see in. You freeze, unable to step forward into the room. You really don’t know if you want to see him like this.
The doctor gives you a reassuring nod and pushes the door. It slowly swings open; you see a chair, the foot of a bed, lumps in the blanket where he lies. A curtain blocks your view of his face. You take a tentative step forward. Then another, and another, moving quickly. You cross the room in just a few seconds.
If you didn’t know better you’d say he was just enjoying a nap, not recovering from emergency surgery. You were expecting him to look grey and sickly, not healthy and pink. Even when having near-death experiences Gibbs is able to surprise you.
“He’ll probably be out of it for a while but he should make a full recovery. It could have been a lot worse.” The doctor stands right behind you.
You turn to say “thank you” and catch her badge on her coat: Doctor Carly Albright. Your brain makes a little extra effort to store that name.
She smiles at you. “Stay as long as you like. The nurses are just down the hall if you need anything.”
You pull up a chair and take a seat beside the bed. As you study the sleeping Gibbs a niggle begins to grow at the back of your mind. Should you call her? Would he want her here? You decide that he probably would but don’t move, justifying your actions with he’s not conscious yet and it’s late and I don’t have her number.
Finally you decide that you will have to take the girls home for breakfast. You can look up the number then and she can sit with him during the day. You want to be with him, just for now.
You left the house without your watch and your bag is down the hall with the twins and Ducky so you have no cell phone either. However you don’t need a clock to know that it is late and you have had little sleep. A dull ache begins at the back of your head telling you that you are tired and should get some rest.
You lean forward slightly and smooth down the blankets, studying the weave. “You had me worried.” You tell him, needing to speak to break the silence and to keep your mind from your lack of sleep. “When Tony phoned… Oh, I was so scared. All I could think of was what could have happened to you.” Your voice sounds thicker than usual, as though you could easily cry right now, and you are amazed to hear a hint of anger in your tone. “You could have been killed.”
A loose grip on your wrist makes you jump. Gibbs has moved his arm and wrapped his fingers around your wrist. He lets out a little groan.
“Gibbs?”
“Kate.” He moves his head, groans and opens his eyes.
Your cheeks are suddenly wet with tears. You can’t speak; relief, exhaustion and a hundred and one other feelings jostle for your attention. You hastily backhand some of the tears away and choke out, “I’ll get the doctor.”
“No.” He says, voice heavy with sleep. “Not yet.”
Another thought seizes you and your heart sinks. “Do you want me to… to call…” You trail off.
Gibbs seems to know who you are talking about because he holds up the hand that isn’t around your wrist. The movement silences you. “Not yet.” He repeats. He closes his eyes and tips his head back. “I just want to rest.”
You make to get to your feet. “I’ll leave you to sleep.”
The grip on your wrist tightens, stopping you from moving away from the hospital bed. “Stay.”
As you ease back into your seat Gibbs lets go of your wrist. You move closer to the bed, curl your legs beneath you and lean your arms and head on the blanket beside his legs. It’s an awkward position but oddly comfortable.
The last thing that you remember before sleep overtakes you is the familiar feeling of his fingers gently smoothing down your hair.
Author: Purerose
Fandom: NCIS
Prompt: 022 Blood
Character/Pairing: Kate/Gibbs
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1352
Summary: Kate visits the hospital.
Authors Notes/Disclaimer: NCIS not mine. Just borrowing the characters... they'll be in more or less the same state when I return them.
Thanks for the comments, it's good fun reading them (and having conversations through them). I'm going back to Uni this week which means that updates will probably slow down a little again (at least I've managed to get three - plus this one - up this week, which is quite and achievement). I'll aim to get at least one a week up, Saturday and Sunday will be the main days, I have a half day on Wednesday too, so if I'm back early enough then I'll be able to upload stuff then.
But at least I'll have the travelling time to spend writing. Each day I spend about an hour and a half on a train plus an hour on a boat... and time spent on boats is good for writing NCIS fanfic. :D
Anyway, on with the story:
[ Chapter 1] [ Chapter 2] [ Chapter 3] [ Chapter 4] [ Chapter 5] [ Chapter 6] [ Chapter 7] [ Chapter 8] [ Chapter 9] [ Chapter 10] [ Chapter 11]
A numb feeling washed over you the moment that you stepped within the hospital doors. It was as though you have walked into an icy shower. The only thing that you were conscious of feeling was your heart pounding in your chest. If it wasn’t for the stroller that you are leaning on, you’re sure that you would have collapsed. Your legs seem to shake with each step.
The first person that you see in the waiting room is Ducky. He looks years older than he did when you met him for lunch two days ago. His left arm is supported in a sling and he studies the floor, only looking up when one of the girls calls out “Ducky!”
He gives them a small smile and then looks up at you. At once the smile fades and he looks serious. “Caitlin.”
“Oh God. Ducky.” You sigh and stop in your tracks, surveying his bandaged arm and red stained shirt. The pristine white constrasts sharply with the deep red on his clothes. Something tells you that it isn’t all his. Fear strikes you and your own blood runs cold.
Ducky follows your gaze. “Oh. This is nothing. When I was eighteen I…” He looks up at you again and trails off. You don’t see him walking towards you, you’ve hung your head and tears have filled your eyes, everything becomes a blur.
When he wraps his right arm around you in an awkward one-armed hug you break down. It’s seems ridiculous but you needed to cry.
Before you have an opportunity to speak to him a woman in a white lab coat appears. You pull away from Ducky and wipe your eyes, the world comes back into focus and you note that she is almost smiling. Your stomach flip flops and you begin to feel hopeful.
You listen to what she has to say without really hearing any of it. Ducky nods and asks questions using complex medical terms while bouncing Elizabeth on his knee. You let the information wash over you until the doctor turns directly to you and asks if you’d like to see him now.
You want to laugh. Of course you do! And yet you don’t. Gibbs is quite possibly the strongest person that you know. The thought of seeing him vulnerable and wounded scares you.
When you get to your feet and follow the doctor down the corridor you feel a certain sense of reluctance. It feels like the longest walk of your life. Your footsteps echo down the long corridor. The florescent lights cast an odd yellow glow on the otherwise beige hallway. With each step you chant a little mantra in your mind, ‘I’m ready for this, I’m ready for this’ over and over again. But deep down you know that nothing can prepare you for seeing him like this.
The doctor is several steps in front of you. You are aware of the soft clicking sound made by her shoes and little else. The corridor seems endless. The rooms and hallways opening off from it are all dark and it disturbs you to think that the place this reminds you of most is Ducky’s morgue. You push the thought away and take several quick steps to catch up.
It suddenly hits you that you don’t know the doctor’s name. She only introduced herself half an hour ago. You wonder how much of the conversation you missed. Did she tell you something that was truly important? Something that you should prepare yourself for before you see your children’s father? You wrack your brain trying to conjure up a little snippet of the exchange but your mind is blank and your body is numb.
Doctor what-ever-her-name-is pauses at a room at the far end of the corridor. She turns and looks back, waiting for you to catch up. There are green curtains at the window, drawn so that you can’t see in. You freeze, unable to step forward into the room. You really don’t know if you want to see him like this.
The doctor gives you a reassuring nod and pushes the door. It slowly swings open; you see a chair, the foot of a bed, lumps in the blanket where he lies. A curtain blocks your view of his face. You take a tentative step forward. Then another, and another, moving quickly. You cross the room in just a few seconds.
If you didn’t know better you’d say he was just enjoying a nap, not recovering from emergency surgery. You were expecting him to look grey and sickly, not healthy and pink. Even when having near-death experiences Gibbs is able to surprise you.
“He’ll probably be out of it for a while but he should make a full recovery. It could have been a lot worse.” The doctor stands right behind you.
You turn to say “thank you” and catch her badge on her coat: Doctor Carly Albright. Your brain makes a little extra effort to store that name.
She smiles at you. “Stay as long as you like. The nurses are just down the hall if you need anything.”
You pull up a chair and take a seat beside the bed. As you study the sleeping Gibbs a niggle begins to grow at the back of your mind. Should you call her? Would he want her here? You decide that he probably would but don’t move, justifying your actions with he’s not conscious yet and it’s late and I don’t have her number.
Finally you decide that you will have to take the girls home for breakfast. You can look up the number then and she can sit with him during the day. You want to be with him, just for now.
You left the house without your watch and your bag is down the hall with the twins and Ducky so you have no cell phone either. However you don’t need a clock to know that it is late and you have had little sleep. A dull ache begins at the back of your head telling you that you are tired and should get some rest.
You lean forward slightly and smooth down the blankets, studying the weave. “You had me worried.” You tell him, needing to speak to break the silence and to keep your mind from your lack of sleep. “When Tony phoned… Oh, I was so scared. All I could think of was what could have happened to you.” Your voice sounds thicker than usual, as though you could easily cry right now, and you are amazed to hear a hint of anger in your tone. “You could have been killed.”
A loose grip on your wrist makes you jump. Gibbs has moved his arm and wrapped his fingers around your wrist. He lets out a little groan.
“Gibbs?”
“Kate.” He moves his head, groans and opens his eyes.
Your cheeks are suddenly wet with tears. You can’t speak; relief, exhaustion and a hundred and one other feelings jostle for your attention. You hastily backhand some of the tears away and choke out, “I’ll get the doctor.”
“No.” He says, voice heavy with sleep. “Not yet.”
Another thought seizes you and your heart sinks. “Do you want me to… to call…” You trail off.
Gibbs seems to know who you are talking about because he holds up the hand that isn’t around your wrist. The movement silences you. “Not yet.” He repeats. He closes his eyes and tips his head back. “I just want to rest.”
You make to get to your feet. “I’ll leave you to sleep.”
The grip on your wrist tightens, stopping you from moving away from the hospital bed. “Stay.”
As you ease back into your seat Gibbs lets go of your wrist. You move closer to the bed, curl your legs beneath you and lean your arms and head on the blanket beside his legs. It’s an awkward position but oddly comfortable.
The last thing that you remember before sleep overtakes you is the familiar feeling of his fingers gently smoothing down your hair.