Helpless
Maybe I’m a bit complicated all I know is
I don’t cry for pain don’t cry from fear
You know that
I don’t cry in the rain no not a tear
You know that
Before you leave, when you go
I think you ought to know
I don’t cry for pain, I only cry for love
You stare up at the once blue lights and it hits you; he could’ve died. You could’ve died. In the bed next to you, you hear a groan of pain and discomfort as he rolls in his sleep onto his back and he immediately starts coughing again. The instinct to mother him creeps up your throat again and you swallow it back down, not wanting to show him just how much he means to you. He finally decides it’s easier if he stays on his side and this time he rolls towards you.
You turn your head to look at him and wish you hadn’t. There’s nearly a lifetime of pain etched upon his face, his skin, and you know it’s all because of that stupid damn letter. And what’s worse is the fact that he gloated that the letter was for him and about possibly knowing the sender of the letter which turned out to be a potential death trap.
Damn him. Damn him and his boyish charm.
Of course, you can walk out of here any time you want, you don’t need to be here any more. You could have chose to walk away once he got the all clear, or when you wept into Ducky’s shoulder. But you stayed.
*~*~*~*~*~*
You’ve been here for over thirty hours, listening to him try to chat up the nurse, rejoice in tales of college with the doctor and harass you with film references. You don’t mind them really. It’s comforting and always has been, no matter how much you try to deny it.
You really hoped that Dr Pitt wouldn’t send you away when you asked to stay with him. There was no need, but you’ve already covered that part already. When you walked back into the glass chamber and just stood over him as he slept, he looked so different. You fought hard to keep your hands by your side, and not run them through his hair and over his face. It should’ve been enough that you could hear his raspy breathing, you shouldn’t have felt the need to touch him to know he was still alive; or as close to it as he could be at that hour.
You fought harder to stop yourself pressing your lips to his forehead or burying your head in his shoulder for just a minute.
Instead, you smiled down on him, knowing that in a couple of weeks, maybe more, he’d be back at his desk with the possibility of new movie references and ways of completely pissing you off.
You won’t complain, not until he’s been there for more than a day. You need to hear him, without the coughing and the wheezing. You need to hear him make fun of you for no reason, his smart ass comments about Gibbs. You’ll only jump down his throat when he starts making comments regarding yours and Gibbs’ sex life.
*~*~*~*~*~*
You admitted your fear to him. He more or less done the same in fewer words. At the time you’d made some mundane comment about anyone with half a brain would be terrified and laughed, trying to lighten the mood. You’d caught sight of him in the reflection of the glass and knew he was absolutely terrified.
When Emma came with the news, your stomach dropped. From your side of the room you heard him laughing with Brad, something about college and spring break; you weren’t surprised by the topic, and that’s when it hit you the first time. He smiled and it suddenly all fell apart.
You yelled at him because you were scared. You yelled because it was your way of showing him you cared. Just like it’s his way of showing you he cares by teasing the hell out of you.
You told Brad that the IV in Tony’s arm was useless, he responded by saying it gave him hope. That was kinda the reason you gave Brad for staying, and for not telling Tony the truth.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Gibbs would chew your ass out, you knew that, but you couldn’t and wouldn’t walk away from him, not now and not ever. Abby and Ducky, even McGee would want you to stay there and if they were here they would stay. Tony would do it for you, and any of the team, you had to do it for him. You know Gibbs would be more disappointed in you if you walked away rather than stayed.
It wasn’t the fact that your conscience, and everyone else, would never forgive you if you left only for it to go bad and for him to die alone. Painfully. Nothing but stupid blue lights and that horrible clinical smell that’s somehow attached to your hair and skin and throat.
*~*~*~*~*~*
It was easier when he was awake. You can still hear the faint raspy breathing beside you and it lets you know that you’re not alone and that he IS still alive. You’ve just never seen him so quiet, not like this anyway. When he’s quiet in the office, it’s because he’s just visualised the new receptionist or something equally sexual. Sexual in the eyes of DiNozzo anyway. But right now he isn’t DiNozzo, he’s Tony. He’s the guy that watches your back, he’s the nicer one. DiNozzo had vanished hours ago after making a final movie reference. But he did make you laugh. He did make you feel better.
You did and do have the sudden urge to watch Alien.
*~*~*~*~*~*
And again you have the sudden urge to go to his bed just to look down on him. You’re exhausted, but there’s still the fear if you close your eyes for one second too long it’ll be too late and he might still die. That stomach churning feeling that pushed you, tears and all, into Ducky’s arms. He called you brave, but you broke. How could you be brave when you were crying into the older man’s jacket, convinced that one of the men you loved was dying right in front of you and there was absolutely nothing you could do to save him.
It all comes down to the fact that this man scares the hell out of you, and not because he’s scary or strange or has a disturbing mind. It’s because of what he makes you feel inside, despite the fact you’re happily married.
Your eyelids are getting heavy and you decide one minute won’t hurt. Just one minute.
*~*~*~*~*~*
It seemed your minute turned into thirty and you’re woken by a nightmare. You dreamt that your partner died beside you. That the bug didn’t have a suicide gene. You sit up and hold your breath long enough to hear his. When you hear nothing you turn your head sharply, he’s on his back again, and try to focus in the darkness to see his chest rising and falling.
You can’t see it.
You slowly push back the covers on your bed you somehow ended up under despite lying on top of them and slide out of bed. The floor is stone cold, but you need to make sure. When you reach his bed you crouch down low enough that your eyes are level with his chest and again you focus on him, watching for his muscles rising. He’s breathing so slowly you hardly see it, but he’s definitely breathing.
You don’t notice that his eyes have been watching you in the darkness. But you certainly notice when his hand comes down on your shoulder.
You jump out your skin at his touch and fall back to the floor, the cold seeping through the thin pyjamas you’ve been wearing since your clothes were incinerated at work. They’re scratchy and smell funny, but they’re keeping your dignity intact.
At least they were until you fell on your ass.
You look up and he looks down and your eyes have finally grown accustomed to the dark as you see a faint smile grace his lips. He offers you a hand but you shake your head and push yourself up and sit beside him this time, now he’s awake. You don’t talk, for some reason there’s no need to. The silence isn’t awkward or depressing, it’s nice. It’s two friends reflecting on things and on how things could have gone down. Every breath you take betrays the fact that even though he can’t see the tears, you’re crying. He senses your fear and he takes your hand, slowly interlocking your fingers together with his and squeezing. You squeeze back because you can and because it gives you a solid positive that he’s alive. When he goes to take his hand back you squeeze harder and whisper to him.
“Not yet.”
He knows what you need, and despite the fact he’s lying down, his other hand is on your back.
He doesn’t shy away when you wipe away your tears.
The nurse comes in a few minutes later to check on him, informs you it’s just after one in the morning and moves you out the way. He doesn’t let go of your hand.
*~*~*~*~*~*
When a different nurse comes in at seven to perform the same checks, you’re surprised at how long you’ve been sitting by his side, your hand in his. In those hours, a few whispers have been passed between you, but you were both just happy to sit in the silence, knowing what the other was thinking and smiling. Whenever he got that look in his eyes that suggested he was thinking about sex, you pinched his arm until he squeezed your hand. It was easier for him if he didn’t talk, and that’s the way you liked it. Although it would have been nice to hear his voice, even if it was just a whisper.
*~*~*~*~*~*
You’re glad that you didn’t give in and fall asleep. You’re glad you spent all those hours by his side, feeling the need to close your eyes become more pressing but not doing anything about it. Again, you could’ve gone. Maybe not left the cube you were in but gone back to your own bed. You didn’t want to leave him hours ago so why leave him because you’re tired. When you finally do speak, your voice is quiet and your words are sluggish and kind of slurred. The room’s lighter now, and he can see that you’re worn out and he feels guilty for not letting you sleep. He finally speaks again and it’s slightly stronger than it was before.
“You should sleep, Kate.”
You shake your head emphatically and your eyes close and you struggle to open them again. He’s frowning when you look at him and you smirk. He’s been practising Gibbs again. The tears are coming back again as well. It’s then he seems to make a decision and you’re glad he does because you’re two seconds away from falling off the bed and flat on your face on the floor. He moves over, being careful of his IV and tugs you down to lie beside him. He helps you as best he can to get comfortable and when you feel his shoulder under your head you smile; when you roll over onto his chest, careful not to put too much weight on him, the hand that was in yours goes to your shoulder and the strength he’s slowly regaining holds you on the bed and against him.
Just before you allow sleep to claim you, he speaks again.
“Night, Katie.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
You’re vaguely aware of being moved at some point, but it doesn’t seem important enough to wake you. You figure it’s just Tony moving in his sleep, therefore moving you in the process. But since when did Tony smell like Gibbs. The combined scent of coffee and sawdust is enough to cause a panic inside you and you wake up, the fear that while you were asleep, next to Tony, he took a turn or he died. And you were right next to him and you were too exhausted to notice you were sleeping next to a corpse. You want to scream and cry and see him, just one last time.
You want to tell him you’re sorry for not waking up, and that you love him. You’ve done this once before and you’re pretty sure he got the message, but it seems doubly important to do it now.
Gibbs finally gets a hold of your shoulders and he calms you down. You expect to be questioned; why did you stay here, why were you asleep beside him, why did you say you love him. But none of that comes. He knows the reason’s without having to ask.
He tells you Tony’s fine and he’s been moved into a private room, out of the dungeon that is isolation. You breath a sigh of relief and a prayer of thanks as Gibbs pulls you into him for a hug. You don’t know why you’re crying again, but Gibbs doesn’t seem to mind.
*~*~*~*~*~*
The next time you see him you’re glad to see some of his colour has returned. You’re feeling better yourself; Gibbs dragged you home for a shower and forced you to eat before he even allowed himself to think of letting you to go back to hospital and see your partner.
The room is filled with black roses - Abby - and at the foot of the bed is a portable DVD player. You look around and can’t see any DVDs and make a note to stop by his place later and pick up a few for him. You have a feeling he’ll want to see anything that will make him feel manly again - half his collection - and decide on picking up the John Travolta film he mentioned earlier. As well as Alien.
He smile when he sees you lingering in the door and you walk towards him, sitting down in the chair beside the bed. He grabs your hand and shakes his head, pulling you up to sit beside him. It turns out he wants to know why you stayed with him; why you told him you were infected; just why. You can’t find it in you to make up some lame excuse, and he deserves a little bit of happiness right now, so you tell him the truth and nothing less.
“I couldn’t leave you alone. Never could and never would leave you behind. Neither of us would have been able to forgive me if I had walked away and left you there and I didn‘t want to see you go through that alone. We’re family, Tony, and family sticks together. Even if we annoy the hell out of each other.”
You don’t know the real reason you lied about being infected, you just know that you wanted to stay there with him, and watch him. There’s no words for that. And now you’re getting weepy again, and you try to blame your hormones - and so does he. This is what you’re used to; the banter.
*~*~*~*~*~*
After baiting one another, coming up with stupid comebacks and ways to get at Probie he turns sombre again. You hate it when he gets serious like this because you can’t read his face or eyes. He tells you that staying with him had been a stupid thing to do, but that he’s glad you did. You have a feeling no other girl tells him what he’s going to hear from you, and that somehow makes the strange bond and relationship you have with this man stronger.
“I’ll never leave you.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
Thinking back, it’s one of those breakable promises. You know in your line of work there is a distinct possibility that you will leave him, but you can’t take it back now. You both know if given the chance, you’ll never leave him and he’ll never leave you. No matter what happens.
Author's Chapter Notes:
The last chapter written in the 3rd
Set through SWAK
Set through SWAK