Chapter Six

12:00
Day Two
Small Town Hospital/Clinic

McGee paced outside the emergency room in the waiting room. While he had to admit the health center was significantly nicer than the big city hospital, he still didn't like being here. The waiting room seating was wide, generous, didn't have arms and seemed to have the double purpose of serving as sleeping couches for really long waits while not feeling well. There was a generous children's play area the farthest from the doors to the ER but closest to the main entrance. There were also two windows that were for blood tests and other tests. A sign of a truly small hospital, mused McGee. Is the fact that the waiting room is generous enough to not only serve the ER, but also the clinic and the blood testing and other testing places without seeming crowded. It was also far cleaner, and while not new, certainly better respected. It was almost, but not quite, comfortable as if a very busy set of volunteers went out of their way to make it as comfortable and lounge like as possible instead of "waiting room".

But, despite the quilt on the wall, or the nicer paintings and mural... and plants... it was still a hospital... and an ER waiting room. Nothing would ever change that. Finally a nurse came out and said, "Special Agent Timothy McGee?"

'"Yes?" he said walking over.

"We would like to keep him overnight," she said. "Thankfully, although the trauma he has suffered is very serious, we don't have to transfer him to a bigger hospital, unless that is your wish. He's not in any shape to make that decision himself."

"Why?" asked McGee, suddenly worried.

"He's sleeping, one," she answered, smiling. "Two, until he stabilizes that would only harm him more. And we have more room for a private room here... it will be more peaceful and restful."

McGee couldn't argue with that logic, but there was something else, "Once he stablizes, I don't think he would want to. His father is visiting from Stillwater and this is out of the way. Not to mention he has a lot of friends that would rather him closer to keep an eye on him."

She nodded, and he asked, "Can I see him?"

"He's sleeping," she answered. "And he needs the rest. If you promise not to disturb him, I can let you sit with him."

"I won't wake him," promised McGee, and as they walked, he whispered a question. "How bad is it?"

"Well, we ran the whole works of tests on him and he still has a potent sedative in his system. We found two needle tracks on the side of his neck, so he had been drugged at least twice and neither time was gentle," she whispered back in answer. "We're guessing they didn't exactly try to be exact about it either. He is suffering from small electrical burns and other puncture wounds near those burns. He also has been beaten within an inch of his life, there is a long, deep, stratch on his back running by his spine... and... since we can see he was tortured, the doctor and the nursing staff are concerned about the emotional trauma. It would be good for him not to be alone."

They stopped outside a door, and she motioned, whispering, "He's in here."

* * * *

14:00
Small Hospital
Gibbs' room

Ziva and Tony arrived a short time later, and were also quiet as they came in to check on Gibbs. With a small smile, Ziva signaled that she would sit with Gibbs for awhile so that McGee and and Tony could grab a coffee and catch up on the morning's situation. McGee got up quietly and Ziva replaced him in the chair beside Gibbs' bed.

As she sat there, she looked him over. He was covered generously by blankets and clean sheets, with a clean cotton scrubs style top. Likely he was wearing scrubs as sleep pants as well instead of the gown. It was curious, as most if not all hospitals supplied gowns, not scrubs. She laid a hand on Gibbs' relaxed one. She took a look at his face. He wasn't sleeping peacefully. His eyelids flickered and he would mumble every so often in the grip of his nightmare. She smoothed his hair and murmured quietly, humming, trying to soothe him. It appeared to work, but only slightly.

Even she could see the bruises in his face... feel where the hair had been torn out of his scalp. She took something from her pocket, something that Vance had released as evidence once Abby had taken everything she possibly could from it. Very gently, Ziva slid the silver bracelet back around his left wrist, securing it back where it belonged. All at once, the unease around him lifted, and with a deep sigh, the ghosts of his nightmare faded and he fell into a deep, peaceful, sleep.

* * * *

McGee and Tony when to get coffee from the cafeteria, and then walked back to borrow a lounge that they could close the door to. Staring out into the little garden, the two men stood in silence. "Sit rep," said Tony quietly.

"He's in bad shape," said McGee. "We found him in barely the nick of time..."

He filled Tony in on what had gone down in the warehouse and then finished, "The doctor here feels that he has likely undergone severe psychological and emotional trauma. Instead of waking in a big city hospital, he felt this was was more quiet and peaceful to wake in. His physical injuries are not so bad as to require a major trauma center. As it is the doctor's call, there isn't much I can say."

"But?"

"No buts, if he's okay to stay here then I agree on the peaceful aspect being far better than a big city hospital's hustle," answered McGee. "Although this more like a rest home than a hospital, if you ask me. And he's smart enough to pick up on it, once he wakes up. So, on your end of things?"

"Agent Fornier is taking the body of Royce Vasquez and the other dead kidnapper back to DC, and the two living kidnappers are being transferred back to DC as well," answered Tony. "Ducky and Abby were a bit upset that it took so long for us to tell them that we found Gibbs alive, Tim. You didn't call them."

"Didn't have time, and I didn't want to worry them until I knew what was up with Gibbs. Not that I can use a cell phone in here without being caught anyway."

"Well, they are on their way and should be here soon. Ducky, of course, is going to be the 'second opinion' on Gibbs' condition," Tony smirked. "But, I think he might agree. Jackson is also on his way. He's catching a ride with Ducky. Director Vance said he would catch up as soon as things were wrapped up in DC."

"Franks?"

"Already on his way back to Mexico," Tony shrugged. "I figured he'd want to stick around, but I guess not."

* * * *

Gibbs cracked open an eyelid, then another to look around the room. Even though, logically, he knew he couldn't have been tortured and kidnapped all that long, it had felt like forever and, after losing his bracelet he had given up. He looked at his wrist, and he could see it and feel its reassuring weight.

Someone had gone through the trouble of finding it for him. Of returning it. He closed his eyes, clamping them shut to prevent the tears that threatened to fall. "Gibbs?" came a questioning voice, and after regaining a bit of control he looked over into the face of his favourite goth. "You're awake!"

"Abs?" he croaked, scarcely believing it.

She gently hugged him, the contact reassuring him that this wasn't a dream. He hugged her back, holding on tight as if to banish the past twenty four hours of hell. "How long?" he asked.

She sat up and answered, "You were missing for approximately twenty seven hours or so."

Only twenty seven? It had felt more like weeks or days. He supposed that had been part of the torture. He felt dizzy and closed his eyes for a moment, thinking he heard her calling for the doctor. When he opened his eyes next it was dark and Ducky was now sitting in that chair, reading a book. "Duck," murmured Gibbs. "What time is it?"

Ducky jumped a bit, and he saw him look over to another chair, "He's awake again..." before turning his attention back to Gibbs. "... Jethro, so good to see you awake!" exclaimed Ducky. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit... and I probably look it," answered Gibbs bluntly. "What time is it?"

He looked over to where he could hear motion and saw a very relieved Jackson Gibbs move over to the other side of his bed. "It's just after ten in the evening, son. You've slept most of the day away."

With a yawn, Gibbs admitted, "I feel like I could sleep more."

Ducky patted his arm reassuringly, "Then do so, your body has been through hell. Sleep, Jethro, we'll be here."

Gibbs didn't need the encouragement and he closed his eyes again, his breathing evened out and he began to snore softly. Ducky listened for a few moments more, and then, satisfied that everything was as it should be, leaned back in his chair. Jackson continued to hold his son's lax hand. "I am just so happy to see him right now," mused Jackson. "He's going to be all right, then?"

Ducky frowned a bit, but answered, "He's tough, but he will need time for this. And people around him."

"What aren't you telling me?" asked Jackson.

Ducky had read the reports from McGee and the young agent that had found Gibbs, as well as the medical reports from when Gibbs had been brought to the emergency room. He had the unique, and alarming, full picture of Gibbs' condition. And, while he couldn't be sure of his emotional state with him sleeping ninety percent of the time, he was sure there was significant trauma there as well. He just wasn't sure what to tell Jackson without alarming the elder Gibbs too much. He took a breath, and motioned for the older man to join him in the hall as they walked to the same lounge that Tim and Tony had used. "Well?" asked Jackson.

"He was tortured... more than what those videos showed," answered Ducky. "I will be honest and say that I don't know what kind of effect that will have on him emotionally, but I suspect that he will deal with it the same way he does everything - bury it and deny there is a problem. I would suggest counselling but I don't think he'd use it. I would also suggest he not head straight back to DC, perhaps go somewhere a bit more peaceful where he can retreat without it being withdrawn. Someplace he feels safe and comfortable... and where it is quiet. That is why they haven't moved him to DC yet. This is a small town, a small health center. It is quiet and peaceful, unlike a hospital in DC."

"It reminds me of a rest home," pointed out Jackson, and he caught Ducky's side glance. "That's not what he needs."

"It's better than a hospital," pointed out Ducky. "And he also needs people he trusts and loves near him. He was humiliated as part of his torture."

"How?" demanded Jackson. "What did they do to my boy?"

"I think they drugged him to keep him subdued, or resorted to a device call a taser, as well as near constant beatings. They also, violently as far as we can tell, removed his clothing and any other items of personal note. Effectively, they stripped him of dignity," he saw the horror creeping into Jackson's face. "He was not assaulted... but, I suspect the being forced to curl up and try to keep warm while stripped bare, and then tortured more, amounts to the same. McGee said he also saw evidence of intense psychological torture. As I said, they used drugs as well as other methods."

Jackson sat down in one of the chairs hard, "Oh my God... Leroy..." he looked up, "He'll be okay, though, right?"

"With much support from friends and family, and plenty of rest... and as I said, if he would only do it, perhaps even counselling, yes," Ducky sighed. "I am going to head back to sit with him. Should he wake, I do not want him to wake alone for the first few days."

Jackson nodded wordlessly, silently thanking the other man for allowing him time to collect his thoughts and regain some control over his own emotions. He felt sick, and then he felt rage. Had his son not shot the kidnapper responsible dead, Jackson would have been tempted to do so himself. Or at least beat sense into him with his cane for what he did to Jackson's son. He took deep, calming, breaths before standing and walking out of the loung and back to his son's room to also sit with him.

* * * *

The next morning was a clear dawn, and the snow was crisp, clean and fresh. Leroy Jethro Gibbs woke slowly, as the sun warmed the foot of his bed and slowly moved with the hours to shine on his hips, legs and feet. With a yawn, he rolled over, wincing as he rolled onto bruises to regard the scene in his room. In two armchairs were Ducky and his father, sleeping. On the short couch he saw Abby curled up under a knitted blanket, holding Bert close to her. Beside him, holding his hand in sleep was Ziva while her other hand rested on his pillow, guarding him even while she slept. McGee slept in one of those hospital chairs that looked uncomfortable, but could be surprisingly comfortable with his feet up on the window sill. Tony sat on the floor, back leaning against one side of the doorframe, legs pushed across the floor to the other side of the wide doorframe. With a smile, he recognized the other half of his guard detail. Tony was a heavy enough sleeper to sleep like that, but also light enough that if someone tried to go by him that he'd wake in an instant, alerting the others.

Except for the fact that his room looked out into a garden courtyard and was clearly on the mainfloor of the hospital, telling him he wasn't in DC, everything was as it should be.

Which meant everything would be fine.

And he could live with that.

With a sigh, he allowed his eyes to slide shut again, joining his family... blood or not... in sleep, a ghost of a smile on his face. The nightmares would come to remind him of his twenty seven hours held captive by Vasquez. Let them come - he had more than enough back up watching his six to chase them away.