therock: Officially welcoming my guy @NickJonas to #Jumanji. Great dude, great positive energy and very talented. He’s gonna kill this role like I kill things with my bare hands. The jungle awaits. The adventure continues. And ironically the one who sings the most on set is Jack Black 😂.#OnLocation #Hawaii#WelcomeToTheFamilyNick #Jumanji 🔥
Imagine getting attacked while in jail awaiting court, resulting in nerve damage that forces you to quit NCIS.
**Sequel to “Imagine being framed for murder (and the team losing faith in your innocence).” [x]**
Jail may not have been as bad as prison, but that didn’t mean that law enforcement were any less hated. Even law enforcement accused of murder.
You had barely been there for two hours before seven inmates decided to teach you a lesson. At least, you think there had been seven. For all you knew, there had been three times that. You had been unconscious when the guards found you.
The doctors said it was a miracle that you’d survived such a brutal attack.
Three stab wounds, one of which punctured your lung and another which damaged your spinal cord. Compared to those two, the final stab hadn’t done much damage and hadn’t been very deep either. While those were the worst of your injuries, they didn’t begin to cover the concussion, blunt trauma and defensive wounds you had sustained. Your arms particularly ad taken some abuse as you tried to protect yourself from the knife and endless blows.
If the guards hadn’t arrived when they did, you would most certainly have died.
You weren’t sure how long you had been in the hospital. You knew they had put you in a coma to allow your body to heal somewhat. A police officer had been stationed outside of your room for the first few weeks but they’d stopped watching you a few days ago. No one had come to tell you why.
And then Gibbs walked in one day.
He had flowers with him and, for the first time, he couldn’t seem to look you in the eye.
“Hey.” Your voice was like gravel from lack of use and all the hours you had had a tube shoved down your throat.
The silence stretched on for a long time. Gibbs had to turn his back to you before he could seem to will himself to talk. “We caught the guy.”
It took another long stretch for his words to sink in. You weren’t sure why you weren’t angry. Maybe you were just too tired to feel anything other than exhaustion anymore. Well, you knew you could still feel pain. You thought you had gotten used to it by now, but the hurt was suddenly a whole lot worse. You wanted to cry. You closed your eyes, wishing a nurse would come by and turn up your morphine.
“They tell me you can’t come back.”
You felt like you were going to be sick as you nodded. Your voice was flat as you poked at your now-useless legs, “NCIS generally likes agents who can walk.” You couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of your tone.
His grip on the chair tightened. “They can do some amazing things with therapy, I’ve heard.”
You almost laughed. “I’m never going to be NCIS again, Gibbs.” You weren’t sure where what you said next came from. Maybe you were angry after all. “You made sure of that.”
If you weren’t mistaken, Gibbs actually flinched. “I know. It’s on me,” he muttered, glancing briefly to you, still not meeting your gaze. His entire body was tense. “This is my fault.”
Tears blurred your vision, leaking down your cheeks, “Yeah, it is, Gibbs.”
He finally turned, his eyes begging forgiveness, “I’m sorry, [f/n]-”