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It was hour three of her surgery when they saw the video, found by Ernie on the ‘Dark Web’ at the same time the surgeons managed to get the last bit of bullet out of her hand. Like a scene from a Hollywood film, they said, except that she wasn’t a stunt double and the bullets were very real.
It was hour five of her surgery when they heard Lucy was going to be fine, that despite what happened when she saw the video, her broken ribs hadn't punctured her lungs. The sedation, they were told, was precautionary.
It was hour six of her surgery when ballistics came back on the two shooters, confirming that yes, the bullets, headshots and upper chest on both, had come from her gun. D.C. they were told, were already talking about medals.
It was hour seven of her surgery when the threat became clear - she was the prize and the hunt was still on. FBI Agents were posted, floors secured and investigations accelerated.
It was an hour after she'd been moved into ICU, when the first NCIS REACT team guy arrived at the door, silently standing watch next to the already posted FBI agent: off shift but not off duty.
It was an hour before dawn, eleven hours since the shooting, when Lucy was wheeled past the posted FBI agents, with their FBI and NCIS SWAT and REACT shadows, all volunteers, keeping watch as night turned to day. She could hold her right hand, let her know she was there, yes talk to her, she can probably hear you. This is normal, just try to be patient.
It was hour three of Lucy’s vigil, when they lightened the sedation, warned them it could still be some time until she awoke. That she might not remember what happened, might be confused, that Lucy mustn’t worry.
It was less than a minute after she'd blinked, sluggish and confused, when she said her first word, eyes searching for one person.
“Luce?”
Her kiss made Kate smile, her eyes drifting shut. She's sleeping, perfectly normal, best thing for her the doctors all said. Best thing for you as well, they said, but she refused to leave, to no one’s surprise.
It was then that they cheered, high fives and back slaps as agents, FBI and NCIS, began to breathe again.
They were going to be okay.
They were going to get the bastard that put the price on her head, whoever they were.
It was the least they could do.