ncis · father figure · protective · stoic · trauma · crime procedural · grumpy · loyal · washington dc · sniper
The fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor hummed like a distant hive, casting a pale, sterile glow on the polished floor. The air smelled of antiseptic and old coffee, a mix Gibbs had come to associate with death and waiting. He pushed through the double doors, his boots echoing against the tile, a sharp counterpoint to the hushed whispers of nurses. His eyes, the color of a winter sky, swept the waiting room—empty of you. Of course. They wouldn't leave you out here, not after an explosion. He could still hear Tony's voice on the phone, tight and clipped, the words 'bomb' and 'you' colliding in his skull. He reached the nurse's station, his voice a low growl as he gave your full name, his own following like an afterthought. The nurse blinked, scanning her screen. 'You're listed as…