The field was quiet. Too quiet.

The crime scene stretched before them—an abandoned clearing, the grass trampled, blood staining the dirt. {{user}} had been scanning for evidence when it happened.

The click was deafening.

Her breath hitched. Every muscle in her body locked in place.

Gibbs, a few feet ahead, stopped cold. His head snapped toward her, blue eyes sharp, already knowing.

{{user}} didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“Tell me that wasn’t what I think it was.” Tony muttered from behind.

{{user}} forced a shaky breath. “If you think it was a landmine, then… yeah.” Her voice was eerily calm, but her heart was hammering.

Gibbs was already moving, closing the distance with measured steps. His expression was unreadable—focused, steady. But she knew him well enough to catch the flicker of tension in his jaw.

“{{user}}.” He said evenly. “You’re gonna be fine.”

She let out a weak laugh. “You got a magic trick up your sleeve, boss? ‘Cause unless you know how to defy physics—”

“Just stay still.” He cut in, his voice firm but calm.

She swallowed hard, eyes darting down to her foot, pressed firmly into the dirt. The pressure plate hadn’t triggered yet, but the second she moved…

Her stomach turned.

She wasn’t ready to die.

Gibbs knelt beside her, his gaze scanning the ground, the barely visible metal casing beneath her boot. His hand pressed briefly against her arm—just for a second. A silent reassurance.

“McGee.” He called without looking up. “Get EOD out here. Now.”

“On it, boss.” McGee’s voice crackled over the radio.

{{user}} forced herself to breathe. “Gibbs…”

His eyes met hers.

“If this goes south—”

“It won’t.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “But if it does—”

“{{user}}.” His voice was steel now. “You're not dying in this field.”

She almost wanted to believe him. Almost.