The Flu
By Kushie
I do not own NCIS: I do not own Anthony Dinozzo, L.J. Gibbs or any other team members.
Apologies to all of you who struggle with my appalling grammar
This story bears no relation to any of my other stories. It is set in a totally different Universe.
Warning Alternate Universe. Many Characters act out of Canon! Don't like don't read.
Chapter Four
Tony hated having the flu. His head ached, his nose was sore and constantly dripping. His throat felt like
a gravel path, over grown with thorn bushes
"Dis ish all dor Fwault Dim!" he griped for the upteenth time. "Dou've wuined Sming Bwake."
"Shaderupz* Dony!" Tim moaned back. "I ash goz der vershtd eadache zefer." Tony didn't
"Fhen Ise weels bwettr? I ish gonna gwue* dou, Gwue dou, der eferyfing in der woffice," he growled
"Don't dou fink dou iss a vit oldk ver Sming Bwake?" Tim snorted back.
"Jesd coz dou nefer went Mcgweek.." Tony scowled. He hated it! When he was told he was past the age.
For doing something fun. He sat up and, ignoring the way the room lurched sideways. Slid from his bed.
Grabbing one of his pillows, he stalked across the room and walloped Tim with it. Mcgee had turned over
and so didn't see him coming. The sudden assault took him by surprise and made him sneeze. But then he
snatched up his own pillow and smacked Tony right back. Within seconds the two men were trading blows.
In between sneezing, coughing, and trading slurred insults.
Puzzled by the strange noise. Abby and Ziva crept in from next door. They began to laugh. Which
aggravated Ziva's cough. Which in turn, had the unfortunate consequence, of alerting the two older men
downstairs.
"What is going on in here?" Jethro suddenly roared. His voice silenced the melee! Abby and Ziva scooted.
For the relative safety of their room. Jethro had his hands on his hip. Tim lowered his pillow A guilty red
flush stained his pale face. Then he pointed
"He stwarted it. 'E hit me wiv hiss billow firsh!" Jethro looked round at Tony. Tim pushed his advantage.
"Anz 'e ses 'e ish gonna Gwue stuff der me." Jethro raised an eyebrow at Tony. He blushed.
"Der Mcgweek deswerfes it. E wuined myz vacafion. I vas rooking fobawd do ish vorwefa."
Jethro took a firm stance.
"I don't care who started it or why. You are not at the office now. You are guests in my father's house and will
damn well behave." He glared at both boys. "I don't care how ill you are? If I hear another sound, out of either
of you." his voice hardened. " You'll both be marching out back, to the woodshed." Tony sensed it wasn't an idle
threat. He leapt back into bed and under his quilt. Seeking protection from his furious boss. Jethro gave one final
glare then stalked out. Beyond his father stood grinning. Jethro shook his head.
"Please tell me! I was never that bad."
"Sorry son! I'm afraid you were." Gibbs had to laugh as well. His boys were certainly full of it. Even when they
were sick.
"Why can't they be like the girls?" He asked his father. Abby and Ziva were co-operating nicely. Sharing magazines,
talking encouragingly and helping each other, through the nasty. Softly chortling the two minders returned to their
coffees and the morning papers. Tim almost crying. climbed back into his bed. Griping under his breath
"Tony's swuch child. He dwid stwart it." He pulled the covers up around his chin and snivelled at the wall.
Tony shivered and snuggled closer to Vinni. The cat seemed to sense his misery, and mewed softly. Silence descended
and reigned for a couple of hours. Just after ten! Jackson entered with mugs of warm buttermilk and a two sets
of cold cure pills. He made no mention of the earlier argument. He acted as if nothing had occurred.
"How are we both feeling?" He asked breezily. Tony overcame the urge to snap at the old man. He didn't deserve it.
He was always kind to him. Jack walked over to Tim first. Which irked Tony. Jack felt Tim forehead. "I must say you
boys are really suffering," he plumped Tim's pillow then turned his attention to Tony. "Oh dear! Your quilt fallen has off again." Tony didn't say he'd shoved it off because he was annoyed. Especially As ten seconds after, he'd started to
shiver and regretted the act. He'd also been too cold to reach out and pick it up. Plus of course Tim would have laughed
at him. Tony's only consolation was that Tim was as ill as he was. Jack retrieved the quilt and tucked it back over Tony.
"I'll bring you up a nice hot water bottle. That'll drive the nasty old chills from your bones." Tim instantly begged.
"I ish fewy cold tooz gwandzpa!" Tony sat up in fury, as Tim called Jack by his special name. But then Jack patted
the 'Probie's' blanket gently.
"Of course you can have a bottle Tim. But you just call me Jack lad." Tony relaxed and lay back smiling. Only he was allowed the Grandpa privilege. Tim scowled as Jack left.
"Spwoiled git!" he snuffled at Tony.
"Pwobie!" Tony spluttered back. He'd started coughing, as a result, of trying talk too much.
Jethro bought up the hot water bottles. He had four in all. Inwardly he mused! That it was a good job, his father had a
lot of spare stock in his store room. Of course, he had already paid him for the extra comforts. Tony was extremely
grateful for the towel wrapped warmer. Vinni appreciated it too. He was buried under Tony's quilt his head resting just
below the lip of the pillow. Jethro eyed Tim and then Tony. He didn't speak But! His dark eyes held the threat. A threat
neither of them wanted to face. Abby and Ziva were doubly grateful, for the cold banishing bottles. Jethro appraised them.
Of the four. Abby actually seemed to be faring the best. Although she simpered and played up to him. For extra coddling. Coddling she got. Jethro hated to see his kids suffering. If he could eleviate, even a small part of it, with a cuddle. Then
he was happy to oblige.
Jackson didn't just have new stock. He had piles of old newspapers and magazines. Stacked up in one corner. They
were technically awaiting collection. By a recycling company. But in an effort to prevent any further, boredom induced, squabbles. He carried several boxes up to the sick rooms. Tony was asleep, but Tim eagerly made a grab for three
computer titles. Abby and Ziva already had a pile they'd ploughed through and were glad of the newer ones. Jethro
returned the used, to the recyc pile.
Tony woke just as his 'Grandpa' entered with a lunch tray. Despite feeling grim, Tony viewed the tantalising bowl of
Chicken Soup with relish. Tim did not.
"I'se a Vegnetarizan!" He wailed, his words even more distorted, by the disease.
"I know that lad!" Jack patted his head and took a metal lid off a different bowl. Tim's soup was a thick Noodle and
Bean Broth. That was as nourishing as Tony's Chicken. He wished his blocked nose hadn't deadened his taste buds.
Tony remembered Jack's culinary excellence from Christmas and was sad. That this time, he couldn't savour. What he
knew, was probably the best tasting Chicken Soup, in the galaxy? The sleep had actually improved Tony's mood a little.
Once the lunch bowls had been emptied and removed. He reached a hand out for some magazines. Jethro had sorted
out the sport and movie ones for him and the more intellectual subjects for Tim. He was unaware he'd made a tiny error.
Some of the periodicals were aimed at enthusiasts of the Paranormal. Gibbs had laid them aside for Abby. But had,
accidently, put a couple in Tony's pile. It was mid afternoon before Tony reached the fourth magazine down in his
stack. He frowned at the title.
"Fortean Times? That's more Abby's thing." He was about to lay it to one side. When a small photo, in the lower corner
of the cover page, caught his eye. The picture of the cowled figure reminded him of his dream. His curiosity was piqued. Tony retrieved the mag and hiding it from Mcgee, in case he remarked on it. Rolled over onto his right side and opened
the booklet, to the index page. For most of the afternoon, Tony read in silence. After a while Tim grew puzzed.
Twice he asked Tony what he was reading. But his, normally vocal, partner ignored him. He had discovered something.
He was reading about a local legend. Local to Stillwater, but with tendrls, that stretched across the States.
Spreading a dark, evil, pall. Over many, rural towns and villages
TBC
A/N Some of the slurred speech might be confusing. So! I've aster'd a few of the words and included translations
* Shaderupz* Shut up! *Gwue* Glue! *vorwefa* Forever!