"We are," stated Gibbs as he stepped forward, "How is he?"
"I'm Dr. Nead. Mr. DiNozzo came in with a number of serious injuries. We're trying to stabilize him now—"
"Trying to stabilize him? What does that mean? He seemed like he was doing okay."
"Jethro," admonished Ducky, "let the poor woman speak."
"His condition deteriorated in the ambulance on the way here. We're working to stabilize him now and determine if he needs surgery."
"Oh, dear," interjected Ducky, "as I feared, there's internal bleeding then?"
The doctor shot him a quizzical look.
"Dr. Donald Mallard. I'm a Medical Examiner at NCIS but periodically am called upon as triage officer when it comes to some of our more stubborn, if not contrary, agents."
Dr. Nead offered a little smile and nodded in understanding. "Well, you made a good call on this one doctor. It appears that trauma to the abdomen has caused some internal bleeding. We'll know more once we do a peritoneal lavage. As I said, we're trying to stabilize him; however, Mr. DiNozzo's a bit uncooperative."
"I knew I should've ordered him not to give you a hard time," Gibbs muttered in his customary growl.
Now it was his turn to be treated to a quizzical look from Dr. Nead. "Ordered him?"
"I'm his boss," Jethro said as if that explained everything. Then his steely gaze softened. "And his friend—"
"More like a father really," interjected Ducky, an ever-so-innocent expression on his face.
Rolling his eyes, Gibbs continued, "I also know how much DiNozzo loathes hospitals."
Dr. Nead dipped her chin to her chest with a thoughtful look on her face. "That would explain some of his agitation though I suspect his concussion isn't helping matters in that respect."
"Can I see him?"
The doctor eyed Gibbs, a calculating look on her face.
Seeing the look, Ducky spoke. "I can assure you, my dear, young Anthony faces no true wrath as a consequence of said visit. I daresay you'll find that it helps."
She looked from one man to the other for a moment. Finally she nodded. "All right. This way."
Jethro handed Ducky his cup before following her from the waiting room.
The doctor led him through a set of double doors and down a corridor filled with curtained cubicles on each side. She stopped outside the second to last on the right, pausing ever so slightly before pulling the curtain aside.
Gibbs heard Tony before he saw him. A litany of unconvincing "I'm fines" peppered with a few pained curses greeted his arrival. One of the medical personnel stepped out of his line of sight allowing Jethro his first look at his senior field agent since the ambulance. The older man was shocked by how much worse Tony looked now than he had just a short while ago. Milk white, drawn, a nasal cannula in place under his nose, the younger man was moving restlessly on the gurney.
At Dr. Nead's nod of permission, Gibbs approached the examination table and barked, albeit softly, "DiNozzo!"
Tony stilled immediately, turned his head, gaze locking on his superior. "Boss! I don't need to stay. Tell them I don't need to stay."
"Do I look like a doctor to you, DiNozzo?"
"No, Boss, but…"
Jethro reached out and dropped a hand on Tony's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Then let them do their jobs. If they say you need to stay, you stay."
On some level, Tony knew he was being unreasonable, but that didn't stop him from opening his mouth to protest again, only to be derailed when a full-blown shudder wracked his frame. He dropped his head back, gasped, and swallowed hard. His gaze dropped, locked blankly on a far corner. Tony nodded once in acquiescence.
Gibbs squeezed his shoulder once more before stepping back. His own gaze sought out Dr. Nead. She stepped to the side and drew back the curtain for him to step through. "He's in good hands, Agent Gibbs. I'll update you as soon as I can."
Jethro returned to the waiting room, nodding at Ducky while dialing his cell phone. He quickly made three successive phone calls, speaking first with Abby then leaving messages for McGee and Ziva. When he finished, Gibbs drained his cup of coffee, grimacing at its chill, and tossed the cup into the trash.
"Where'd you say that coffee stand was, Duck?"
"Jethro, you should eat something—put something in your system besides that infernal caffeine."
"Worried about me, doctor?"
Ducky leaned back in his seat, a gentle smirk on his face. "Hardly—worried about ME actually. You're grouchy when all you've had all day is coffee."
Gibbs scrubbed a hand over his face and actually chuckled. "You've known me long enough to know I'm always grouchy."
"Ahh, touché as they say, my friend. However," Ducky rose to his feet, "I feel the need to eat. Therefore, I'm going to the cafeteria. What can I bring back for you?"
Figuring it was pointless to argue with the Scotsman, Gibbs muttered, "Just bring me a sandwich, I guess. Doesn't matter what kind. And coffee."
"As if I'd forget that," responded Ducky.
While the medical examiner was gone on his self-imposed humanitarian mission, Jethro sat, fiddled with his phone as he worried in silence about his senior field agent. He sighed in relief when Ducky returned, appreciating the company and support of his old friend. The food at least gave him something to do with his hands. He was halfway through his ham and cheese sandwich when Abby, in all her exuberant glory arrived. For all that exuberance, she was dressed in a rather subdued fashion for her—black jeans, a black t-shirt with cartoon skull sporting a pink bow, and low-heeled black boots. Her long, dark hair hung loose down her back.
"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!" The forensic specialist barreled into him, pulled him into a hug. "How's Tony? I came as soon as I could!" Her words were garbled as she directed them into his gray sports coat. "I was helping Sister Rosita and the other nuns and they shooed me out when you called with the news. How's Tony? Tell me he's okay…"
Jethro grabbed Abby's shoulders and eased her backward. "Abby, Abby, take a breath—"
She did, inhaling deeply and letting it out in a gush that actually ruffled her bangs. She looked between Gibbs and Ducky. "How is he?"
"We're waiting to hear. The doctor should be out soon."
Abby threw her arms around Gibbs again. "He didn't tell anybody he was hurting! He said it was just a black eye and split lip!"
"I know, Abs, I know."
"You just wait—I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind! When he's all better I mean. I wouldn't yell at him now, of course. 'Cause that's like kicking a dog who's just lost his best friend…"
"Abs!"
"Sorry, Bossman. I worry when I ramble—I mean, I ramble when I worry."
Someone gently clearing their throat interrupted the tableau. Three pairs of eyes swung toward the doorway and locked on Dr. Nead as she walked closer.
"His peritoneal lavage was positive for blood in the abdomen. At this point, given his hypotension and the extensive bruising on his left side, our standard procedure is to assume it's a ruptured spleen. We're sending Agent DiNozzo up to surgery immediately."
TBC…
