#technically this fits another prompt but counter arguement

[chiefdirector]

Gut feeling | Tony Dinozzo | NCIS

No.4: Hiding an injury

Sinking down into her desk chair, Special Agent (Y/N) (L/N) let out a gentle sigh, relief flooding through her as the pressure on her leg eased. She was somewhat thankful she had worn dark jeans, that paired with the dull lighting in the bullpen at night meant that she could hide the bloodstain coming from the hole in her leg until she could patch it up in private.

She had always been a private person, a childhood of broken promises and disappointments has caused her to close herself from other people, even when she truly wanted to let them in. She reasoned with herself on the way back from the raid the team had undertaken.

Slowly, one by one, the team left. She stayed under the guise of paperwork - it wasn't hard to believe, they did have mountains of it to shift through at the end of a case. Only when she thought the coast was clear did she sfhit her weight forwards, attempting to stand up. It took her a few tries but she eventually found her balance once again, thus beginning the slow limp down to autopsy where she knew Ducky kept af first aid kit for instances like these.

Except for the fact she barely made it two steps before she was grabbing the desk for balance, all the blood rushing from her head, causing the world to spin around her.

-----

Tony wasn't always the most observant, but even he could tell when something was wrong with (Y/N). She was usually so good at controlling her reactions that when she winces as she sat down, Tony knew something was wrong. That and with the look McGee gave him on the way out mean that he wasn't leaving the Navy Yard, not until he was at least sure that you were alright.

He did not pay close attention to most people but when it came to her, he could recall every freckle and replay the sound of her soft laughter in his head indefinitely. He knew that she wouldn't ask for help, so he slinked out of the room, claiming to be going on one of his many sexual adventures for the weekend ahead, but instead of taking the elevator down, he backtracked round the offices until he arrived in the kitchenette.

Tony managed to wait a whole seven minutes and forty-two seconds before he couldn't hold back on checking on (Y/N). He had a gut feeling that could rival Gibbs'; something was wrong.

The bullpen was empty when he arrived back. Maybe she was fine after all, maybe she went home. He thought as he maneuvered around the desks, only stopping when he saw her crumpled form partially hidden behind her own workspace.

With almost superhuman speed, Tony moved down the floor, pulling her head into his lap. He had one hand cradling her leg, and another pushing against where he could faintly see a blood stain on her trousers. He gently shook her. Once. Twice.

Shit. Shit. Shitting shit shit.

Tony could feel time slow down as he tried to wake her. Calling her name, nor moving her seemed to ruse her from her unconsciousness. The gut feeling was right afterall, there was some sick irony in that; the day he finally has an accurate gut feeling is the day where he loses everything.

He didn't know what to do. All of his training, both as a police officer and as a federal agent, were screaming in his head. They were commanding him to do something, anything. But he sat there frozen, panicked by a future where he wouldn't see her sarcastic smile in the mornings, or her sleepy goodbyes at night. A future where he wouldn't share movie nights, or go for impromptu midnight walks. A future where he would never get to tell her how much she had changed his life; a future where she wouldn't know how much he loved her.

Burdened with this thoughts, tony was unsure of what to do so hee shifted her once again, this time until her eyes briefly shuttered open.

"Hey sweetheart, gave me a fright there." He said, trying to bring her attention to him. He needed to keep her awake. "You need to tell me what hurts. What happened?"

"My..." She tried before stopping. She took a moment to compose herself. "My leg. Bastard shot it."

Tony moved slightly to get his phone from his pocket, dialing the emergency line for an ambulance "How'd you end up down here?"

She gave an answer, or at least tried to but the words seemed lost in her mouth, almost as if she didn't know herself. Tony wasn't surprised, by the way her body was she must have hit the ground, and hard.

"No point in worrying now, all you need to focus on is staying awake, getting better."

Tony looked down at her, waiting for her answer, but it never came. He wasn't sure when but her eyes had closed again. Gently he shook her shoulder again, trying to get her conscious for a few more minutes but this time instead of waking, her body fell limp.

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