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A/N: I am in the midst of writing chapter 7 of The Fear Game, but I had to stop for a brief but essential episode tag to Crescent City II. As usual, Gary Glasberg brings us into a moment of potential drama (particularly in regards to McGee) only to snatch it from us at the last moment just like that annoying kid on the playground. Well, I've learned to make my own angst. I hope you like it. Sheila
McGolfBall
Gibbs couldn't get over how old Felix looked. The man was 80 years old. He should've expected it. In fact, he had. The surprise hadn't come when he saw him. The surprise had come when he and Pride got Felix to admit that McClain had framed a man. The old man saw the disappointment in their faces and it seemed to swallow him. Sharp only hours earlier, confusion reigned in his expressions- mumbling incoherently at times when Gibbs tried to talk to him.
Gibbs kept an eye on him as he moved off the deck and into the glaring sun. He put his phone to his ear. "DiNozzo?"
"Hey Boss."
"We're wrapping up here. Everything under control? McGee okay?"
The hesitation was only a beat, but Gibbs was too focused on Felix to notice. "Yeah. He got clocked hard with a golf club. I sent him off in an ambulance."
"Good. Following protocol for once. Tell him he gets the rest of the week off."
"Got it."
A serious response. Gibbs' gut twitched. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah." Too quick this time. "I…we have to process the scene. It's a mess. McGee was…off. Feels stupid. Like he should've known or something. Doesn't want me to call anyone…especially Delilah."
Gibbs gave Felix a worried look. "Are you sure things are okay? I can be on a plane in an hour."
"He's just shook up."
"If you're sure, Tony. I got a thing. I need to take an old friend home. It's going to take a few hours. I'll probably pick up a flight in Pensacola. Bishop is getting on a transport tonight. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon sometime."
"Yeah. You know Tim. He doesn't want the fussing."
"No golf ball jokes, you hear me? Too early. You know how he is. Oh, and tell him he couldn't have known. None of us did."
"Yeah."
Gibbs could hear a deep breath on the other end. Something was off. Maybe DiNozzo was the one who took the hit. "Tony?"
"Taking the old man home is important. Nothing you can do here. I'll call ya'."
Gibbs frowned at the dial tone for a long moment before to turning back to Felix.
…..
"DiNozzo."
Tony turned.
"Go," Fornell said as he walked up. "Crime scene unit is almost finished. You've been here hours getting in everyone's way."
"Trying to take over?"
Fornell pointed at the golf club on the floor. "Titanium. Expensive and heavy. How long do you think he was out?"
Tony shook his head. "Forty five minutes, maybe."
"That's a long time. Concussion, for sure. Head injuries are funny, you know."
"Are you trying to freak me out?"
"It seems to me you're already halfway there."
Tony winced. "His speech was slurred. I had a concussion. I don't remember that being part of it. Of course, maybe not remembering is part of it. It was weird."
"Go. I got things here."
"Just want all the credit, don't ya'?"
"Oh yeah. That's me." Fornell shook his head. "Get out of here already."
….
Gibbs looked over at Betts. The old man had been snoring off and on the last two hours, and it left Gibbs more than a little relieved as they drove along gulf coast. There wasn't much to say to him. When he was clear, Felix just kept saying how they did enough good to make up for the bad. Gibbs didn't argue. He had no desire to judgment. He, like Franks, lived by a different code back then. Gibbs always knew that, but it still stung.
"Jethro?"
He turned.
"We always did what we thought was best."
Keeping one eye on the road, Gibbs reached over and patted his hand. "I know, Felix."
"We screwed up big time, didn't we?"
"Yeah. It happens."
Betts shook his head. "No telling if you'll ever be this way again. Damn, it's good to see you. You're a good man, Jethro. I hope you can forgive us."
Gibbs squeezed his hand. "We had good times, Felix. That's what I remember."
"Promise me?"
"Yeah, I promise."
…
Tony frowned when he walked in the room. McGee was in a bed gowned and hooked up to an IV and monitors. "What's going on? I thought you'd be ready to go."
"Tests," McGee said through gritted teeth. His skin had an eerie, bluish tint.
Tony pulled up a chair. "It's okay. Remember my concussion a couple of years back. Hurt like hell. They probably just want to observe you overnight. Routine."
"Swelling," Tim muttered, his breathing shallow. "Internal hemorrhage."
The words caught in Tony's gut. He looked around. "Where's your doctor? I think we oughta call Ducky. He'll understand this."
A clammy hand gripped his wrist. "No."
Tony shook his head. "You're not riding this out alone, Tim."
"You're here."
Tony pulled away and stood. "I gotta find out what's going on. Where's your doctor?"
Out in the hall, he flagged down a nurse. "I need to talk to someone about Timothy McGee."
"You're family?"
Tony swallowed. "His best friend."
She nodded. "Good. We could use some help with him. I'll page Dr. Lucas."
When he went back in, McGee was lying on his side, vomit staining his sheets.
"Oh Tim, this isn't good." He grabbed a towel from the bathroom and wet a washcloth. He wiped Tim's face gently and scrubbed at the sheets.
Then he pulled the chair closer. "We should call people."
"No," he moaned. "Please. No worried faces. I can't."
Tony shook his head. "I don't remember looking like this when I had my concussion."
"Every concussion is different."
The voice startled Tony and he stumbled out of his chair. "Doctor?"
"Lucas," she said shaking his hand. "Glad Tim has a friend with him."
"How bad is this?" He started to steer her toward the hallway.
"No." McGee lifted his head off the sheets. "In front of me."
She took out a light and checked McGee's pupils. "Tim has some intracranial swelling and a small amount of bleeding. We have to get that under control. Right now, we're using a combination of meds to ease the swelling. We're going to give it 4-5 hours and do another CT scan. If there's no improvement, we need to do surgery to relieve the pressure."
"Whoa!" Tony grabbed his head. "Okay. This is officially a big deal. We need to call people."
"No!" McGee tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness hit and he dropped back down. "No. Not a big deal. Please!"
Lucas eased him onto his side again as dry heaves took hold. "I see we need to get in here and change these sheets."
"No calls," he murmured when his nausea settled.
She turned to Tony. "Right now, we just have to wait. You could call people, but they're only going to sit in the lobby, and I don't want him agitated. If these drugs act like they should, the swelling will go down and the bleeding will stop, and he can go home tomorrow afternoon."
Tony shook his head. "They're going to kill me."
"Just a few hours. Just a few hours." McGee's words were running together.
Tony watched him. "He's closing his eyes. Don't we have to keep him awake?"
She smiled. "It's okay. He's being monitored. Sit with him."
"He's going to be okay?"
"We're going to take it hour by hour."
…
Felix had held his hand when Gibbs got him home. "Let me just look at you one more time."
Gibbs nodded.
"God, you were a handsome devil, and you never knew it. Every female in NIS kept her eye on you. Some of the fellers did too."
"Well, it didn't do anyone any good. Never met a woman I couldn't sour."
"Except the first one."
Gibbs felt a twinge in his gut. Shannon still carried power all these years later. "We never get over the first one, Felix."
"Ain't that the truth, Jethro. You take care, boy. You hear me?"
Gibbs chuckled. "I can't remember the last time someone called me a boy."
"Well, as long as I'm breathing, I got the right."
He nodded. "Take care, Felix."
"You're going to forgive old Dan and me, right?"
"Already done."
Felix Betts let go of his hand. "I know you got a team now that you care about- just like we all cared back in the day. You hold onto that. It's a special bond we shared. I can tell you feel it for your people now. Makes it all worthwhile."
The words caught him unexpectedly and Gibbs felt a shiver run down his spine.
…..
"McGolfBall," he said softly, his eyes fluttering open.
Tony sat up. "What did you say?"
It was weird looking into McGee's eyes. One pupil was slightly larger than the other. Dr. Lucas said it was related to where the swelling was centered. "McGolfBall. You won't use it this week, but it's coming."
"I won't. I promise."
McGee moaned and pressed his face into the pillow. "It's like a gang fight in my head. The kind of fight where everyone brings baseball bats- no, golf clubs- huge ones."
"Sorry. Wish they could give you more pain meds, but I guess it screws up their ability to properly evaluate you." Tony looked up at the clock. Lucas had told him that they'd do another CT scan at midnight, but it was 12:30 a.m. and nothing was happening.
McGee smacked his dry lips. They weren't allowing water anymore in case of surgery. "You gotta call me McGolfBall. We can wait a week for it if you want, but you gotta do it. You're not Tony if you don't. I need you to be Tony."
Tony sighed. "Okay. You know, it's going to be more than name calling, right? You understand that. There will be golf related pranks."
A ghost of a smile grew on McGee's face. "I can't wait."
Emotion flooded through him, and he reached over and touched Tim's cheek. "I sent you alone. My fault."
McGee moaned. "You sent me to a man's house to warn him. He had to be almost 70 years old. Best he could do was attack me with sports equipment. And I didn't see it coming."
Tony smiled. "We both stop blaming ourselves. Okay?"
McGee winced and curled up. Tony reached for a basin but nothing happened.
"Just give me a minute," McGee whispered. "There's nothing left in me.
"They should've been in here by now."
The wave of nausea passed and McGee lay back on the pillow, his breathe slowing. "Can you imagine if something actually happens to me and you gotta explain to your next partner that an old man killed your old partner with a golf club?"
"Okay. That's enough!" Tony was on his feet and headed for the door. "If they say they're going to do a CAT scan at midnight, they damn well better do one!"
…..
Gibbs sat in the diner with a half eaten plate of eggs in front of him and stared at his cell. It was 2 a.m. There was no message from DiNozzo, but that only meant everything was okay. The man had been ready for his own team for years now. Micro-managing him was a wrong move. He understood that more as time went on.
He sipped his coffee, hoping that it would sooth his restless gut. The roadside diner held a weary crowd at this hour. Truckers mainlined coffee and loaded up on enough calories to last them a good 8-10 hours. There was a table of Marines trying to sober up before they went back to base. He remembered nights like that- before Shannon.
Then there was the lone teenage girl with long, greasy hair eating a cup of chicken soup. He'd been watching her from the minute he walked in. She kept crumbling crackers in it until it was more mush than soup. It was clear she was broke and hungry. Gibbs had half a mind to make her his problem, but the look on her face when she scanned the room told him that she wasn't in a trusting mood.
So his attention stayed on the quiet phone in front of him. McGee was home by now, resting. No reason to wake the kid in the middle of the night. He'd told DiNozzo to pass on his concern. McGee wasn't a probie anymore. He was as competent as anyone in the room. There was no doubt he was feeling a little stupid about being caught from behind, but it happens, and there would be plenty of time to help him see that.
He tried to pick up the phone and stick it in his pocket so he could finish his coffee in peace, but his hand didn't move. To his left, a trucker went over and sat next to the girl and tried to chat her up while she struggled to ignore him. He offered her anything on the menu plus a ride in any direction she chose. Then he mumbled something about having a sleeper cab in the back.
Gibbs tensed and started to rise when the waitress sauntered over to the trucker with a coffee pot in hand and told him to get his fat ass off the stool and back to his booth. Gibbs waited for an aggressive response, but the big man got up without a word and left.
Then she came over and refreshed his cup. He looked up. "Do you know her story?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you writing a book, handsome?"
"Does she need help?"
The waitress was in her 50's, but had probably lived closer to 500 years. He could see it in her eyes. Aliens could land on Earth and she would probably pour them a cup and tell them exactly what kind of behavior she was going to tolerate and what she wasn't.
She looked back at the girl. "17. She's been using meth to survive tricking, but she stopped both a week ago. She knows she's going to be dead in a month if she keeps it up. Local police have picked her numerous times. Foster homes don't work for her. She needs money to get to Houston. Aunt lives there and is willing to take her in. The woman sent $300 for a ticket, and the girl smoked it. She's stuck now. Can't make money for the ticket unless she tricks. Can't handling tricking unless she uses. Doesn't want to go to aunt's strung out."
Gibbs studied her. "You're not giving up on her."
"Who do you know that doesn't deserve a second chance? Every time, I look at her I see myself at that age. The cooks and I have been putting aside a portion of our tip money for a week now. It's still only $87. Wish it was more, but if you know anything about this life, you would know we're all hanging on by the skin of our teeth."
"When do you get off?"
"6 a.m. What do you have in mind, cowboy?"
Gibbs sighed. "2 a.m. is an awful bad time for lemon meringue pie, but I got a taste for it."
She nodded slowly. "All right."
When she was gone, he picked up the phone and made calls. She brought the pie and left, but she watched him warily from afar. He ignored the dessert in front of him while he talked on the phone. Finally, he sat back and caught her eye. She walked over. "What'd you do? Call the cops. I told you that doesn't work."
He nodded at the girl. "You and she are on a plane to Houston at 10 a.m."
"What!?"
"I got connections and a military discount."
"I can't go!"
"She trusts you. She needs transition and you deserve a vacation. You're booked four nights in a good hotel. The hotel is holding $500 spending money for you."
She shook her head. "You don't look like you got money."
He snorted. "I just don't spend money until there's a real reason. This qualifies."
She blinks. "How am I going to get the time off?"
He wrote down a phone number. "Call Donny. Wait 'til you get off. He likes his sleep. And, sister, I suspect that the owner of this place knows that you're the reason for 80% of his night revenue. He'll give you the time. Make it happen. It'll be good for her and you."
She stared at him a long moment, and she leaned over and patted his cheek. "I would've remembered a face like this, good deed or no. I don't know your name but I don't need to. Good men are unforgettable."
He watched her lean over the counter and talk to the girl. The girl caught his eye, and he could see the hurt and fear on her face. It was clear she'd long forgotten that decency exists. They argued until the waitress grabbed her face and started whispered into her ear, stroking her hair. Finally, the girl whimpered and hugged her. The waitress dragged her off her stool and hustled her into the kitchen.
Gibbs turned back to his pie. 2 a.m. and lemon meringue made no sense and so he pushed it away. The phone belonged in his jacket now, but he couldn't do it. The burn in his gut was as real it was when he walked in and sat down. He'd tried to convince himself it was Dan and Felix's betrayal. Maybe, it was Dan McClain's murder or seeing Pride after all these years. For the last hour and a half, he'd convinced himself that it was the 17 year-old girl at the counter, but now that was solved and the burning just got worse.
It was the phone. It would ring if something were wrong. He trusted that. He closed his eyes and thought about DiNozzo's curt replies on their last phone call. None of the jauntiness he liked to display. Where was McGee calling him, shaky and apologetic, promising him he'd be to work the next day despite the need for medical clearance? Where was Tony calling him to tell him that the evidence had been catalogued and complaining that Fornell was stepping on his toes? What happened to all of those phone calls?
Gibbs picked up the phone and hit a number. "DiNozzo? Did I wake you?"
"Uh…you didn't."
"What the hell's going on? Don't tell me it's nothing. I can feel it."
A deep breathe on the other end. "Tim's concussion is pretty bad, Boss. There was some intracranial swelling and bleeding. They just did another CT scan. Swelling is reduced, but uh…not as much as…it should be. They are giving it another 4 hours. If the swelling isn't greatly reduced, then they're…doing surgery."
The knot in his stomach tightened. "And I don't get a phone call!?"
"I should've called, but McGee's anxious. Didn't want to worry anyone. Wanted to wait until we knew for sure. He told me to wait until surgery was a certainty before calling. You know how he is. Listen, I know you're mad, but…he's just trying to cope."
"Is he awake?"
"Yeah. His head hurts pretty bad."
"Put him on."
Gibbs waited through the frantic whispers he could hear over the muffled phone. "Hey Boss."
He sounded fragile and it hit Gibbs hard. "I didn't know, Tim. I should've known."
"Hey, it was a golf club. What can happen with a golf club?"
McGee's words were too soupy to stand on their own and Gibbs closed his eyes. "A lot can happen, Tim. I'm smart enough to know that, but too dumb to pay attention."
"Everybody wants to feel bad about this, but it's not making anything better."
"Agreed. Okay. I'm on my way. I'm going to get there as fast as I can."
"Don't worry. It's going to be okay, Boss. I wish Tony hadn't said anything."
"Tim, Listen. You're family to me. Families have rights to know and to worry and to care. You can't deny us that."
"I don't know what to say." In that moment, he sounded younger than the day he first came stuttering into Gibbs' life.
"I'm going to be there soon. Okay? You do what you're told. You are not the senior agent on the scene. You hear me?"
"Okay, Boss."
Gibbs nodded. "Tim…You're very important to me…you're family. Family is everything. Okay?"
"Yeah." There was a hitch in his voice. "You want to talk to Tony now?"
"Put him on." He waited until he heard Tony's familiar breathing. "It's no time for hard feelings, okay? But get on the damn phone and let people know. I don't care what time it is. Call 'em in. Get someone to pick up Delilah. You two clowns have just been demoted back to the clean up crew on this particular caper. I'm running things now. The three of us will have a series of long lectures about how families communicate with one another when Tim gets better. You hear me?"
"I'm back at the part where you said there weren't going to be any hard feelings."
"Shut up, DiNozzo. Hang up and call Ducky now. You call me if anything changes."
"On it, Boss."
Gibbs let out a deep breath when the call ended. The knot in his gut was a tsunami now, but at least he knew what it was and he could act. He hit another number. "Donny?...Hey, thanks again for helping me an hour ago with those plane tickets. I owe you…Yeah, I know. Sorry to wake you again, but I need another favor. I swear to God you're going to own my ass after this. So listen up…"
…..
His watch said 7:45 a.m. when the elevator dinged and opened on the 3rd floor of Bethesda. A mail transport left Pensacola at 4:30 with him jammed in a corner on a wooden bench. His butt was going to remember that ride for weeks. He strode past the nurse's station without a word. Tony had given him a room number when he landed. Ahead of him, he saw Ducky in the hallway talking with a woman in a white coat. He slowed. "Duck?"
"Jethro! I was just talking with Timothy's physician, Dr. Anne Lucas."
Gibbs shook her hand. "What's the word? Tony saw the last CT scan shows that the swelling has diminished quite a bit. That means no surgery, right?"
She nodded. "It took awhile, but he seems to be responding to treatments. We were able to up his pain meds about an hour ago. He finally getting some restful sleep."
Gibbs let out a deep breath. "Okay. This means he's going to be okay."
"Yeah, I think so. We're going to keep him another day, I think. Dr. Mallard agrees. Then he can go home as long as he can be watched for a couple of nights."
Gibbs nodded. "We'll make sure that happens. Any lasting effects?"
"We'll need to follow up at three months and six months, but I think he should recover fully."
"Thank you, Doc. Can I see him?"
She looked at Ducky. "Well, we just expelled a crowd to the waiting room. They spread a game of Risk on the bed while he was sleeping. They promised to be quiet, but I…wasn't convinced."
"Ducky and I will make sure he isn't bothered."
Gibbs turned to Ducky after she left. "You feeling good about this?"
He nodded. "I am. I wish I had been called earlier though."
"You and me both. Where is DiNozzo?"
Ducky pushed open the door. DiNozzo was sitting in a chair, his body draped over the end of McGee's bed, snoring. "Don't be too hard on them, Jethro. They are who they are. I think they figured that as long as they had each other, they were going to be fine."
Gibbs spotted an empty chair in the corner and turned to Ducky. "You'll supervise the Brady Bunch in the waiting room?"
Ducky nodded, a grin growing on his face. "Mr. Palmer knows a place that delivers pizza before noon. And Abby and Delilah have a competitive energy between the two of them that is really quite fascinating. With Eleanor in the mix, I wouldn't miss this Risk tournament for the world."
Gibbs snuck in quietly. He carefully placed his bag on the floor and took off his coat. He sat in the chair and watched them for a while. Tim looked too pale, and he groaned in his sleep whenever he tried to move his head. DiNozzo's instincts kicked in and he raised his blurry face. "Boss?"
"Shhh. Go back to sleep."
Tony swiveled his head and saw Tim resting and nodded. "McGolfball looks better already." Then he dropped his head back onto the mattress.
Gibbs rolled up his coat and wedged it between his head and the wall. He closed his eyes, and listened to their heavy sleep for a few minutes before it took him as well.
….
The End
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