Tim snorted to himself, never had he thought he'd be so happy for a pair of clean skivvies. Standing in the small wash room in the white boxers he looked at himself in the small mirror.
He was pleased to see the difference a shower had made; the blood that had been caked into the hair at his temple had come from a surprisingly small gash that was healing fast and he could mostly cover with his outgrown hair. The abrasions around his chin and forehead stood out as painfully red on his freshly scrubbed skin but, looking close, he could tell they would be quick to fade. Even the gash in his eyebrow probably wouldn't need a stitch.
Fading bruises grotesquely covered his torso from where Rafael had used his baseball bat as 'encouragement' and the abrasions on his arms still stood out; they had stung sharply as he had washed in the warm water. His stomach continued to feel tight and there was an ache through every muscle in his body. The last two months he had forced himself to ignore the dull pain of sleeping in contorted positions but it roared for attention now that he didn't need to focus all his energy on simply surviving.
Still, he felt better. He pushed his shoulders back and inhaled deeply, his chest pushing out. He could almost convince himself he looked healthy. A few more days for the face abrasions to heal and a day or two in the Cuban sun and by the time he got home he might even convince Delilah there was nothing to worry about.
He snorted. That was a foolish thought. He could come home looking like Ryan Gosling and Delilah would still be worried about him. But he had to at least try for her; she was pregnant and her little fainting spell in May made it clear that of the two of them; more energy should be spent in concern for her health than his.
God, he hoped she was still okay.
He flipped on the clean t-shirt that had been provided and, leaning closer into the mirror, he used his fingers to comb his hair into some semblance of neat. He stood back and looked over his ratty beard.
He had never been able to grow a decent beard, and with an Admiral father he had never really tried, but the hair around his chin was surprisingly thick. He covered the hair on his cheeks with each hand trying to get a sense of what the goatee alone might look like.
He shivered and rolled his eyes at himself. Facial hair decisions could be left until he was home with his razor and his wife. He thought about her as he stepped into the blue jumpsuit that had been left with the boxers and undershirt.
Delilah was, hands-down, the strongest person he knew. Even after spending two months locked away with Gibbs his mind wasn't changed about the resilience of his wife. But he knew she had to have struggled the last few months.
He had a lot of work ahead of him to make up for leaving her, for jumping off the helo, for all the stress he put her through. He stroked at his chin one more time, perhaps he'd let Delilah decide what he should do with his new beard; give her some sense of control.
With a sigh, he pulled on the thick socks and padded back into the sick bay. The lights were dim except for a lamp next to Gibbs' bed where Lieutenant Indira sat with a bowl of water and a suture kit.
Tim stepped to the foot of his boss' bed, grateful to see he had blankets pulled up to his chin, a single IV line snaked underneath.
"Everything okay?" Tim asked, quiet so to not wake the sleeping man.
The Doctor nodded, looking up from where he had been wiping away the blood and dirt from the cuts around Gibbs' eye. "Will be." He gestured to a particularly nasty cut, "Just going to glue this shut and then the rest is up to him."
Tim nodded, eyes unable to move from the other man whom he had come to so rely on. "He hasn't woken up at all? Even with you doing that?"
Indira smiled, "He did, but we gave him a small dose of pain medication; between that and the exhaustion I suspect he'll be out cold for a while."
"Pain medication?" Tim frowned.
"Just a little." The doctor tilted his head, "He wasn't complaining but it will help keep him relaxed and resting. Both of which are good for quick recovery." He gestured to a steel tray next to Tim's vacated bed, "I was going to suggest a mild sedative for yourself for the same reasons."
Tim hesitated. A sedative. Gibbs was already sedated; what if something went wrong? Shouldn't one of them stay in his right mind? He felt his pulse quicken but he shook off his thoughts. If something went wrong they were on a ship with 500 men and women of the US Navy who would take care of it.
He exhaled and released his hand from the tight fist he hadn't realized he had made.
"Yeah...maybe...a little bit." He nodded stiffly.
Indira smiled and put down the sponge in his hand and gestured to the other bed. "Lay down and I'll get the IV started."
Tim nodded and with a final glance at Gibbs he moved to his own bed. As the petty officer had promised, the sheets he had dirtied were already replaced by crisp new ones. The head was once again lowered so he could lie flat and there was pile of wool and woven blankets stacked at the foot.
He automatically reached for the wool and began to pull it over him but as the heavy fabric settled over his legs he felt his pulse quicken again as the sensation of being held down drove his stomach to his throat. Without thinking, he kicked the blanket off and reached instead for the loosely woven, light polyester spread.
Indira made no comment about the disposed of wool, simply picking it up and folding it on a nearby stool as he replaced his gloves. With quick efficiency he placed the IV into the back of McGee's hand and set up two bags. "Nutrition and hydration." He pointed to one, "Broad spectrum antibiotic." He pointed to the other. He held up a syringe and injected its contents into the port at the top of the IV line. "Sedative."
The doctor smiled, "Just enough to help you sleep. I've seen enough men coming back from hellish situations to know that sometimes a little help is a good thing this first night." He patted Tim's leg comfortingly. "You both need some additional inoculations but we're going to spread them out over the next 24 hours. Okay?"
"Kay." Tim nodded, feeling his lids get heavy.
Indira nodded, "I'll be right next to you for a little while and a corpsman will be by every few hours but if you wake up and need someone and we aren't here, Petty Officer Russo or myself can usually be found in the office right through that door, okay?"
Tim's eyes lazily followed where the doctor indicated and he tried to nod. "Mhrm."
With one final smile Indira turned his back on McGee, again situating himself on the stool next to Gibbs' head and readjusting the lamp before pulling on a new set of gloves.
Even with the sedative Tim didn't find himself able to sleep straight through.
There was one time he woke to Gibbs' shouting his name but by the time he had processed that the fevered shouts of "McGee!" weren't a dream and managed to force his eyes open, Russo had already calmed the agitated agent. Tim turned to see his boss' blue eyes focus on him for a few beats before blinking closed.
From that point on Tim fell into an unconscious kind of routine. He would sleep but a light being flipped on, or an entering sailor, or clumsy corpsman would have him resurfacing and he'd turn his head, make a visual check on Gibbs and then allow himself to fall back into darkness.
He didn't know how many times he had done this when he woke at the sound of Petty Officer Russo lightly humming to herself. This time when he looked at the adjacent bed, it was empty. With a sudden rush of adrenaline he sat up, looking around the medical ward. Apart from Russo and a young seaman on the last bunk, the room was empty.
Russo looked up from whatever paperwork she was attending to and smiled comfortingly to Tim. "It's okay. Agent Gibbs went topside."
Topside?
McGee's mind stuttered on the concept.
Topside. The top of the ship. Outside.
Gibbs went outside?
He just went?
Again he found himself needing to take a breath to reign in his runaway thoughts. Of course he just went. They weren't prisoners. Not anymore. And of course he would want to be outside. The Larson was brighter and cleaner, dryer and warmer but it was still a ship just like the one they had been locked away in for the better part of two months.
He looked down to his hand, surprised to just find a band aide where the IV had been. He raised an eyebrow to the Petty Officer.
"You're all set for now." She smiled encouragingly, "All your vitals are stable."
Tim blinked. Taking her comment as permission, he dropped his legs over the side of the bed, finding a pair of black boots waiting for him. Shaking out the sleep from his eyes and stretching his shoulders and back he slipped his feet into the boots. They were a half size too big so he tightened the laces more than typical before straightening, looking around uncertainly.
Russo watched him from her seated position next to the desk. "How you feeling, Agent McGee?"
He stopped, blinking, taking a moment to evaluate himself before answering. "Good." He nodded, "Much better. Hungry."
Russo smiled and flipped him a protein bar, "Delta ladder will take you up. When you two are ready, come back in and I'll have the mess send in a proper breakfast."
Tim caught the bar and smiled, "Thanks."
Still feeling somewhat hesitant he looked over his shoulder as he exited the sick bay, looking up and down the passageway before heading to the stairs and following them up. Just like their run for freedom he didn't think, just put one foot in front of the other, turning as needed, following the stairs until the night sky could be seen through the hatch at the top.
He took a deep breath, bracing himself before he stepped out. Looking around there was no immediate indication as to the location of the man he was looking for. A Naval destroyer isn't exactly a pleasure yacht and he wasn't sure where one might go if they just wanted to sit outside.
Frowning, two thoughts crossed his mind; first, the warming horizon indicated that the sun was about to rise, and second, a memory of one of the many times he had a fight with his father as a child and had sought a hiding place on a destroyer not too different then this one.
With a smirk he followed the catwalk to the starboard side of the ship. Looking up to the side of an access ladder he saw two booted feet hanging over the side of what he knew to be a small, quasi hidden landing.
Grabbing the rungs of the utility ladder he hauled himself up to the narrow ledge. Balancing himself against wall, he shuffled to the corner until he finally found his target.
"Hey Boss."