What was it about alcohol that made everything seem so…harmless? Everything seemed like a fine idea and nothing had a downside. A friendly drink with Abby had turned into several, and curious questions about his recently-revealed relationship with Tony had turned into lewd questions about their sex life. From there they went to lewd talk in general and from there…

"This is such a bad idea," McGee gasped between kisses. His fumbling fingers had given up on Abby's corset and settled for stroking her neck and her thighs and…

"Ohhh, McGee, stop over-thinking it," Abby groaned, the slur in her voice showing she was just as intoxicated as him. "Tony loves us. You know he wouldn't mind me borrowing you…"

He continued arguing with her but his objections were entirely verbal. He didn't stop touching her or kissing her and when Abby straddled him, the heat of her body engulfing his sent all of McGee's protests far, far away. Abby's body was a familiar treat, one McGee had not experienced in some time. All those little tricks they knew to please one another had regained novelty value in their time apart and the pleasure was immeasurable, second only to the sensation of pressing Tony down into the mattress and taking him slowly.

Tony was on his mind as orgasm hit and Tony was in his field of vision as orgasm faded. Standing in the doorway staring at them as though they were a particularly grisly crime scene. Because that was what Tony did, bottled up all his reactions and hid them with a joke and a smile. He didn't like people to see how much he hurt. Didn't want to show any weakness.

"Tony..." Abby had noticed his presence and the expression on his face. The look of devastation in those green eyes forced them to stop lying to themselves. Of course Tony was hurt by this. They should never have pretended to believe otherwise.

As if startled out of his stillness by Abby's call, the senior field agent turned and fled. McGee tumbled out of the bed and ran after him, but wouldn't chase beyond the front door of his apartment in his naked state. He called out, but Tony didn't even slow down. Tim swore and slammed the door shut, the world spinning a bit as he went back to his bedroom, where Abby was standing at the window, completely nude. "Abs..."

She turned back to glare at him. "Why didn't you follow him?!"

Typical Abby. Relocating the blame. McGee threw his arms up in frustration then sank onto the bed as a wave of nausea swept over him. "I'm drunk and naked," he reminded his ex-girlfriend.

Instead of answering him, Abby threw open the window. "TONY!" She yelled down at the street, having obviously spotted the older man as he fled the building. "Tony! Please wait! Listen!"

Tim heard the screech of tyres as his boyfriend made a hasty getaway. Now it was Abby's turn to swear as she smacked the windowsill with her palm. She slammed the window shut with such force that McGee winced. Then she grabbed Tim's dressing gown from the radiator and wrapped herself up in it before sitting down beside him on the bed. "What are we going to do?"

McGee was wondering the same thing. It was unlikely he would be able to get a cab at this hour, with the nightclubs all shutting and evicting their patrons into the cold night. But he was too drunk to get behind the wheel. He had to talk to Tony and see if he could fix this before he completely lost the man he loved. "We screwed up, Abby. He'll never forgive me."

"He'll be okay," Abby said confidently, staring at the floor. "Well." She sighed. "He'll do a really good impression of someone who's okay. Damn it!" She slapped herself hard enough to make McGee flinch.

Tim reached out and grabbed her wrist, worried she might hit herself again. "Abby, don't. Please."

"But it's my fault, McGee!" she cried. "I've broken up the sweetest gay couple I know!"

"We're not broken up," he snapped. He couldn't handle the thought that Tony might not forgive him. He could voice the idea out loud, but he couldn't believe it. "And it's not your fault. I should have said no."

"But you did say no!" Abby wailed, looking about ready to pull out her black pigtails. "You said no and I didn't listen!"

"I didn't stop you, did I?" McGee argued, a headache beginning to form. "We both know I could have stopped you if I chose to."

"Then why didn't you?" Abby said, her eyes watering as though she was about to cry.

"I guess... I got carried away," McGee said, running the past hour through his fogged mind. "We both did."

"He'll understand that, right?" Abby asked, almost pleading with McGee to tell her what she wanted to hear. "He'll know it didn't mean anything, it was just..."

"Just what, Abby?" Tim snapped. "Just the man who claims to love him having sex with an ex-girlfriend? Yeah, I can't imagine him having a problem with our innocent games." He knew sarcasm wouldn't help, but he had no idea what would at this stage.

Abby buried her head in her hands, resting her elbows on her knees. "God, Tim, we screwed up. We screwed up so bad." Suddenly she sat bolt upright, struck with an idea. "Phone him! And keep phoning until he answers!"

McGee scrambled for his cell-phone and held down number one to speed-dial Tony. It rang and rang unanswered until it went to voice mail. McGee growled at the cheerful message. Hey, this is NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, leave a message... He hung up without leaving a message and tried again. Once more it rang until voice mail kicked in. When Tim tried a third time, it went straight to voicemail. He threw his phone at the floor in frustration. "He's switched it off."

"Well he has a right to be angry," Abby said quietly, her mascara beginning to run. "I just hope he's okay."

McGee didn't answer that. He knew Tony better than Abby did. He knew what it had taken for the older agent to commit to him, to open up to him and to admit there was love between them.

And Tim was certain that this betrayal would be shattering for his lover.

*

Tony's car roared down the dark and quiet roads as his mind stayed still, stuck on one image. Abby riding Tim. Abby on his Probie. And let's face it, McGee wasn't exactly crying out for help. He'd been happy to have her there. They'd got to that point together, as a team. Was it the first time? Had it been happening since Tony first agreed to be more than McGee's senior agent?

He held the steering wheel with one hand as he scrubbed at his eyes with the other. He didn't want to give them the satisfaction of making him cry. He was a grown man damn it! It was the open window, the wind whipping at his face, that was the source of his watering eyes, the reason he couldn't see the road clearly.

The shrill tone of his phone made him jump and he fumbled for it in the glove compartment, blinking tears away until he could read the screen. 'Probie' Angrily he shoved the phone back into the little storage space and slammed it shut, taking a corner sharply.

What the hell was so wrong with him that he wasn't enough for Tim? Since day one Tony had worked so hard to make this the one relationship of his life that would actually last. He'd told McGee his secrets and fears, he'd listened to enough geek-speak to make his brain bleed while keeping sports-talk to an absolute minimum, he'd spread his legs and done whatever he could think of to make him happy. Occasionally the old habits kicked back in and he'd call him a name or make a teasing comment, but Probie had always said that was okay and he knew Tony was trying. Apparently that wasn't enough to compare to the perfect princess of darkness.

The phone had stopped ringing, but not for long. The next time the ringtone filled the car, Tony told it to "Fuck off!" It wasn't fair. There wasn't anything else he could have done! Maybe it was a goth fetish. Or maybe he just wasn't smart enough. Maybe, maybe, maybe.... there were so many maybes. Tony was used to them, used to never being enough. He'd been stupidly optimistic, hoping that McGee might be an exception to the rule. It was like he never learned.

Furiously rubbing at his eyes now, Tony was only succeeding in smearing the tears all over his face. Twenty/Ten vision was meaningless when the world was a teary blur and the first indication that he should pull over was a bright flash of headlights that sent him veering blindly to the left. There was a smashing sound and he smacked his head into the window. A brief moment of disorientation, weightlessness...

He'd been driving along the hilltop road...

There was only time for a short shock of panic before the car hit the ground.

*

The sandpaper slid along the wood slowly under Jethro Gibbs' patient hands. His boat was treated to the tenderness that few people suspected he possessed. He knew his boat would never use it against him. His boat would never make assumptions or demands. Gibbs could be a very patient man, but he had yet to find someone who could mirror that patience. Until he did, he had the boat to spend his evenings with.

His quiet solitude was rudely interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Sighing as he put the sandpaper to one side, he picked up his phone from the scarred woodwork table. He didn't recognise the number, so he answered in his usual way.

"Gibbs."

"Jethro Gibbs?" asked a male voice.

"That's what I said," he grumbled. "Who is this?" It had better be important. He'd had a tough day and hadn't even got round to starting his bourbon yet.

"My name is Doctor Lewis Williamson from Bethesda Hospital. I'm afraid there has been an accident. Not a lethal one, but still serious. You are listed as the next of kin for Anthony DiNozzo?"

"Tony," Gibbs breathed, all annoyance at the interruption forgotten. "What happened?"

"It appears he had a car accident," the doctor replied. "His injuries are bad but he's been very lucky to survive in such a stable condition. We predict he'll be conscious again within the next few hours, though we have some minor concerns about possible head trauma. I really recommend you visit the hospital, Mr Gibbs."

"Agent Gibbs," he corrected. "And the man you're caring for is Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, NCIS. Take care of him. I'm on my way."

During the drive he got on the phone and used his NCIS muscles to get information about the accident involving Tony's car. According to the LEOs, it was a shock that the driver had survived. The car was a total wreck, had apparently flown off the road at some speed and taken a metal barrier with it. The vehicle had apparently been moving at enough speed to make contact with the hillside only once before its final landing on the street below. Gibbs informed them that the injured driver was a federal agent, one of his own. There must have been some telltale emotion in his voice because they promised quickly and sincerely to forward everything to him.

Jethro realised as he pulled up at the hospital that he really ought to inform McGee. His two male agents had been seeing one another for a few months now, a relationship that started when Gibbs was in Mexico. If Tony was badly hurt, McGee really needed to be told.

But Gibbs wasn't going to make a phone-call as he entered the hospital and he wouldn't delay checking on Tony. It made more sense to phone McGee once he had a full understanding of the situation anyway. DiNozzo must have been on his way to visit the younger agent, but why the hell was he driving so fast? Tony was usually the safest driver, more cautious than Gibbs and Ziva but not overly cautious like McGee. Gibbs' famous gut was churning, but that could have been a side-effect of yet another DiNozzo hospitalisation. God knows what the kid's medical history records looked like these days.

Oh, he knew Tony wasn't a kid anymore, and had never been his kid to begin with. But his team were his adopted family and they all knew it. All of them strays, needing support and validation. They all needed someone to imply that they weren't as bad as people said, that they weren't as weak or worthless. Gibbs tried his best to do that for them. His own needs were simpler. He just wanted to do right by them. And when he found Tony's room, saw the younger agent hooked up to monitors and breathing through a tube...

Jethro head-slapped himself. It was a damn car accident, nothing he could have done. Tony hadn't been shot, stabbed, infected or targeted by an assassin. There was no way Gibbs could have prevented this. Though Tony had been working very hard, had been tired lately, perhaps the exhaustion had affected his judgement and...

Gibbs slapped himself again and entered the room, showing his badge and introducing himself to the doctor and nurse attending to Tony. The doctor reached out his hand. "Doctor Williamson. As you can see, poor Agent DiNozzo has been rather battered, but there's no doubt he'll live. I've just been in touch with the young man's doctor, I believe he is also the main physician at your agency?"

"You called Ducky?" Gibbs asked, the news drawing his attention away from Tony's pale face for a moment.

"Uh, Doctor Mallard," the doctor replied, waiting for Gibbs' nod of recognition before continuing. "I required clarification on some points in Agent DiNozzo's extensive medical record."

Extensive. Gibbs sighed at the verbal confirmation that his senior field agent suffered more than the average person. For all the faith Tony placed in him, Gibbs had failed to protect him on an ever-increasing number of occasions. "Tony seems to have a damn bullseye on his back half the time," he grumbled. "Did you get everything you needed to know?"

"Yes and an abbreviated account of local history. Despite the late hour Doctor Mallard has insisted on visiting Agent DiNozzo."

"He must be worried," Gibbs mused, his blue eyes fixed again on the unconscious agent in the bed.

The doctor nodded, "Yes, for a personal visit at this time."

Gibbs snorted. "No, I mean if he abbreviated his account of local history." He turned back to the bemused doctor while the nurse ran her checks and tests. "What injuries has he sustained?"

"Minor lacerations all over a few major cuts on his arm from the windscreen glass," the doctor said, obviously deciding to start small. "They've been stitched up and should heal nicely with minimal scarring. Broken wrist..." he trailed off when he saw Gibbs wince. "But it should mend up sufficiently and is unlikely to damage his use of a firearm. Broken ribs, we assume from impact with the steering wheel. Those have been bandaged and should fix themselves..."

"I'm hearing a lot of 'should's, doctor." Gibbs fixed the man with a glare.

"That's because I don't want to oversimplify the recovery process and give you an absolute certainty when there is always a fraction of possibility for complications," the doctor said, not backing down. The white-coated man turned back to Tony, continuing a catalogue of injuries. "Minute fracture in his thigh bone but that should have healed by the time he's on his feet again. It's the head injury that's our major concern."

"Head injury?" Gibbs repeated, feeling a sudden sickness. But he reminded himself that doctors were always worried about even the most minor of head wounds.

The doctor moved over to the bed and began touching around Tony's scalp very gently. "We've just got the x-rays back and we're waiting to get some CAT scans. There were two points of impact, I think he must have hit his head twice in the crash. Both are quite bad fractures and the cuts required stitches. We tried to cut as little of his hair as necessary. There's one point of impact around the back here..." the doctor's fingers moved between Tony's head and the pillow, where Gibbs couldn't see. "And the other is smaller, here..." He brought his hand over to the right side of Tony's head and as Gibbs moved around that side of the bed, he saw the shaven patch and the neat line of wire stitching.

He sighed deeply. "Damn it, DiNozzo," he whispered. He took a deep breath and asked the doctor if there were any further problems.

"Our only real concern at this point is the potential for brain-damage," the doctor said, not mincing his words. "We'll know more once he's had the scan. They're prepping the equipment now and we'll have him taken down there soon. All his other injuries have been dealt with and just require time to heal."

"Are the head wounds responsible for his unconsciousness?" Gibbs asked. Tony ought to be full of hyperactive life. It was unnatural to see him so pale and still.

The doctor nodded. "We believe so. The paramedics who brought him in reported no signs of consciousness. Again, we'll know more after the scans. Or if he wakes up of his own accord, of course." The man did seem genuinely apologetic that he couldn't say more.

Gibbs brought a chair from the corner of the room and dragged it over to Tony's bedside. "Well I'm going to sit here until you lot whisk him off for his scans."

He'd expected a protest, but the doctor just nodded as the nurse departed with her notes. "Of course. May I ask what your relation is to Agent DiNozzo? His records just say 'Boss', but it's clearly more than that."

Jethro raised an eyebrow at the doctor. "I am his team leader." He hesitated, and then said, "But we're not exactly a conventional team. Tony's like a son to me. We'd all be devastated if we lost him."

"That won't happen," the doctor said firmly, shaking his head. Gibbs smiled at that. He'd expected 'it shouldn't happen'.

"Thanks doc."

The doctor nodded and left the room, just in time to meet Ducky, judging by the sounds of the Medical Examiner introducing himself out in the corridor. A few moments later Ducky walked in with a thin folder, stopping in his tracks when he saw Tony. "Oh, the poor boy. How's he doing, Jethro? I have a copy of the facts here, but I'd like to hear your account, if you don't mind."

Gibbs told the older man all of what the doctor had told him, as well as the assertion of the local law enforcement that they would provide him with all the details of the accident. "Though I wouldn't mind having one of my own agents check it out while it's fresh," he added. "They'll want to clear the area before the morning for the sake of traffic."

"You think there may have been foul play?" Ducky asked, raising his eyebrows up above his glasses.

"I don't know what to think, Duck," Gibbs said, frustration leaking into his voice. "But I do know that DiNozzo is our most responsible driver, yet the scene evidence suggest he was speeding and possibly swerving out of his own lane before the crash."

"You don't think..." but whatever Ducky wanted to suggest, he didn't seem to be able to voice it.

Luckily Gibbs was able to anticipate. "They tested his blood. No alcohol." He was quietly angry that Ducky would even imply it. "He's been happy lately, but tired. Overworking himself to make sure he doesn't let his little love affair interfere with his abilities as a senior field agent."

"I'm assuming Timothy isn't aware of the accident?" Ducky asked curiously.

"How do you know?" Gibbs asked, though the answer was clear.

"He would be sitting in your seat," Ducky replied with a sad smile. "Why haven't you called him, Jethro?"

"I'm sitting with Tony," Gibbs said, making his excuse. Truthfully, even though he was well-practised at bad news, he didn't feel quite ready to tell McGee about this. Not when the bullpen had been so happy lately. They hadn't had such a positive working environment since Kate was alive. But now that DiNozzo and McGee were an item, the banter and teasing had taken a softer route. Ziva felt less like she was excluded now that the closeness between her two team-mates was of a different nature. Abby was constantly squealing about cute they were. Ducky, well, he had just responded to the development with a knowing smile then carried on as usual. Palmer seemed a little awkward with it, but not hostile. He was friends with Tony, so it was to be expected that the news might throw him off-balance a bit. Just like tonight's news would throw them all off. Gibbs didn't want to set that ball rolling.

"It's not like you to be a coward," Ducky said, his voice full of disappointment. "I can stay with Tony while you phone everyone. They'll be livid if you wait until morning. Mr Palmer knows already, as I had him look after my mother for me." Ducky sighed. "He really is very worried for poor Anthony. I had promised him good news, but I suppose that was optimistic of me."

"I'll call Ziva and ask her to head to the scene of the accident," Gibbs decided. "Once she has sketches and details of the evidence I can call her here and explain the situation. I'll call McGee. Abby can wait until morning. It's too damn early to listen to her sob her heart out. I'll let her sleep." He couldn't bear the thought of her running down these corridors crying. She was so emotional and seeing Tony like this would really upset her. Maybe Tony would be awake by sunrise and Gibbs wouldn't have to break her heart like he was about to break McGee's.

"Don't forget to call Director Sheppard," Ducky reminded him. "I doubt the team will be working for a few days."

"Yeah, right. Thanks Ducky." Gibbs climbed out of his seat and prepared to leave, but hesitated in the doorway. "You know, it's just like DiNozzo to do something like this to get back at me for being in that coma."

Ducky chuckled. "Yes. Well luckily he's likely to come out of this far more intact than you did."

"You think I'd joke if I didn't know that?" Gibbs replied with a small smile of his own as he left the room.

He called Ziva first. Because it was easier. She wasn't happy at being woken up at half-past four in the morning, nor was she pleased by Gibbs' vagueness about why she was being sent out to examine the scene of a car crash. But she trusted him and after some complaining she confirmed she would set out a.s.a.p.

Next up, Gibbs phoned Jenny. She sounded sleepy, and images of their past floated through his mind at the sound of her drowsy voice. "Jen, it's Jethro."

"Mm." She yawned loudly. "Jethro? It's..." a pause while she probably squinted at her bedside clock. "...four-thirty a.m. It had better be important. You're not even working today."

"DiNozzo's in hospital. Car accident."

"Oh my god." Her voice was substantially more alert now. "How is he?"

"Hasn't regained consciousness yet. They've stitched him up, bandaged him and they're gonna run some scans."

"Oh god... Do you want me to drop by?"

"No," he said, because the question wasn't really about what he wanted. "It's gonna be crowded enough as it is. Ducky and Palmer know. I'm keeping Abby in the dark until morning. Ziva's checking in with the LEOs handling the scene and I'm going to tell her afterwards. McGee's..."

He was interrupted. "Jethro. You're not thinking clearly. I can understand that, I know how dear your team are to you. But you should have told Ziva over the phone."

"When she phones me I'll tell her to meet me here. I didn't want to worry her when she has a job to do."

"Ziva doesn't worry," came Jenny's response. "But she does notice things. Things like the wreckage of her friend's car. You're sending her to look at it and you don't think she'll recognise it was DiNozzo's?"

"Damn it. You're right." How the hell had he not realised that? Tony's health was worrying him more than he realised, obviously. "Well I guess when she phones me she'll be a little pissed. I can handle that."

He heard Jenny sigh then say, "Just because Ziva is strong doesn't mean you should let her get hurt, Jethro."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Gibbs snapped. "You think I wouldn't die to protect my people? You said it yourself, Ziva doesn't worry and she's strong. She'll put two and two together but she won't let it get in her way. I've got more important things to worry about."

"McGee," the Director said quietly. "Does he know?"

"I'm going to phone him as soon as our conversation's over."

"Then it's over," Jenny replied, before the line went dead.

Gibbs spared a moment to marvel at the woman he had been speaking to, then called McGee before he could find another excuse not to.

"Boss?" the voice of his technology expert sounded hoarse. "Everything okay?"

"No, McGee, it's not. How soon can you get to Bethesda Hospital?"

"Uh, boss, I'm not really fit for work," the agent replied. "I've had a few drinks. It was supposed to be our day off." McGee sounded unusually surly, but that was probably the alcohol.

"I know. This isn't work. It's personal. I'll come and pick you up. Have some coffee and make sure you're decent for when I get there." Gibbs hung up his phone. He went inside to tell Ducky that he was off to pick up McGee, patted DiNozzo's cheek, then went out to his car.

The journey back was going to be extremely awkward.

*