It all happened in a moment.
Tony rounded the corner, sprinting after the fleeing murder suspect. He was met with a metal pipe, most likely picked up from the discarded materials in the warehouse. It connected with his stomach, and the air left his lungs in one painful blow.
The pipe clanged as it hit the floor, the suspect bolting for the door at the far end of the room.
There was nothing Tony could do to stop him, and he gasped in pain and desperation as he dropped to one knee. Through the haze blurring his vision, he could see the man reaching the door, and he knew he needed to take him down, but his arms were rebelling. They wrapped around his abdomen, trying to ease the pain that was shooting through his stomach and squeezing the contents out of his lungs.
Breathe … Breathe … He couldn’t breathe!
The shouts and following shots barely registered with his oxygen-starved mind; he was only focused on attempting to breathe.
His gasping intensified, and he fell further to the ground, managing to stretch out an arm to steady himself somewhat. Someone was calling his name in the distance.
They sounded worried.
Tony didn’t care. All he wanted was to breathe, for goodness sake. Why wasn’t it working? His mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water, and he didn’t respond when a hand touched his arm.
Air … He needed air … Why couldn’t he get any air?
Someone pushed on him, grabbing his shoulders and laying him on his back on the ground. It looked like Ziva, but he couldn’t be sure. Tony wasn’t sure of anything except that the darkness was much more inviting.
At least it didn’t demand him to breathe.
The voices calling his name seemed to rise in intensity as he slipped away, but he didn’t care. It would all disappear in a moment …
He was suddenly aware of air pushing its way down his windpipe and into his lungs. Nothing had ever felt so amazing.
Another burst of air flooded his system, and his body finally realized it had been without the life-giving substance. It suddenly wanted to make up for the fact, and he began hacking as it strove for more.
Ah, oxygen. Wonderful, beautiful, amazing oxygen.
He would never take it for granted again.
The voices were back, prodding him to open his eyes, to tell them he was okay. Tony finally gave in, cracking his lids apart to see the faces gathered above.
Gibbs and McGee were standing over him, leaning forward with concern creasing their expressions. Ziva knelt beside him, her face slightly reddened, her brown eyes reflecting the worry in the others’.
His boss’ lips moved, but the sounds were still a little fuzzy. Tony just groaned in response, bringing a hand up to massage his forehead.
Ziva brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and raised an eyebrow as she asked him a question, most likely repeating what Gibbs had just asked.
This time, the words registered, and Tony shook his head, offering a pained grin. He was fine right where he was for the time being. He was breathing again, and that was all he needed.
Author's Chapter Notes:
He was breathing again, and that was all he needed.
Chapter End Notes:
Some whump; nothing extremely violent.
Rated: FR13
Warnings: None
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Rated: FR13
Warnings: None
Genre: Hurt/Comfort