"Morning, Doc, how is he this morning?" Gibbs had a cup of coffee in his hand, but he hadn't had a single sip of it yet.

The doctor signed off on the discharge forms and closed down the screen. "Ready to go home if he's got someone to keep an eye on him for a few days."

"We've got it covered."

"Then he's all yours."

Gibbs shook the man's hand. "Thanks, appreciate the care he got while he was here. Anything I need to know before I get my hands on his discharge instructions?"

The question brought a smile to the doctor's face. This wasn't Gibbs' first rodeo with stubborn patients that thought they were invincible. "Biggest things are to not let him bend over, not to blow his nose, anything that could create pressure. He's got a prescription for pain pills and I want him to be taking them for at least the next few days. They'll make him sleepy and that's a good thing right now. He'll probably want to be pretty propped up when he sleeps and that's another good thing – as long as we don't have to worry about him sliding off the pillows."

"Got it."

Gibbs walked into McGee's hospital room and dropped a duffel bag on the bed as he studied his agent. If anything, he continued to look worse as the bruising deepened. "Brought you some clothes that aren't covered in blood."

"Thanks, Boss." Tim was sitting on the edge of the bed, feet dangling off the side, as he reached for the bag but Gibbs didn't let go of it.

"No bending over, remember? I'll help you get dressed, then you can visit your dad before we get out of here. You'll be staying with me until you're healed up enough that your vision is safe. I believe the doctor said that was the only way he'd release you."

Tim had started to open his mouth, then snapped it shut when Gibbs knew what the doctor had said. Gibbs was amused, but decided to cut him a little slack. "They let you have any coffee yet?"

"There was a cup with breakfast. At least they said it was coffee. I think they just boiled one coffee bean in a big pot of water. Though I am impressed at how they managed to get it flavorless and bitter at the same time."

"It's an art, I'm sure." Gibbs handed over the cup he was holding, smiling at the lopsided grin of pleasure. Tim must have downed half of it before he came up for air. "Okay, let's get you dressed."

Boxers were first and Gibbs threaded the fabric over McGee's feet as he lifted them, then brought them up to his knees. Then he allowed Tim to stand and pull them up the rest of the way on his own. The hospital gown was removed before his pants were done the same way. Next, Gibbs worked his socks and shoes into place and then tied his shoes.

The button down shirt was easy enough for McGee to do on his own and he didn't even try to look down as he did up the buttons. Finally dressed, his attention returned to the coffee, which made the nurse smile when she brought in the wheelchair.

"Didn't like our coffee, Agent McGee?"

"Well, umm..."

She laughed as she brought the wheelchair closer. "Don't worry, I won't be offended. None of the staff will touch the stuff either. All right, you've got your discharge papers and I understand that you're going to go up to Oncology to see your father before you leave?"

"Yes, I am. Will that be a problem? Do you need to wheel me out and then let me walk back in?"

"No, that's all right. We'd rather you stay off your feet as much as possible. We're just going to let your friend here wheel you up there, then when you're ready to go home just leave the wheelchair near the admitting desk. They already know what's going on."

"Thanks – for everything."

-NCIS-

They were in the elevator before Tim started asking questions. "Last night's a little fuzzy, did my dad actually leave the hospital and go to the Yard?"

"He sure did, wanted to see Colonel Fielding's interrogation."

"Why?"

"He's your father, Tim." They reached their floor and the doors opened. Unlike at the Yard, Gibbs didn't want to tie up the elevator so he rolled McGee to a quiet corner where they could talk. "Fielding is the man that hurt his son. He wanted to see him sweat, wanted to see him hurt, too."

"Oh."

Tim looked impossibly young sitting there, looking up at Gibbs so Gibbs squatted down and rested his hands on Tim's arms. "If Fielding were to go to trial, it would probably drag out for years and that's time that your father doesn't have. I couldn't give him the satisfaction of watching a jury render a guilty verdict, but I could let him watch me break Fielding."

"Fielding took the plea?"

"Yes. You won't have to worry about a trial."

Tim fell silent and Gibbs stood, giving him a supportive pat on the shoulder before wheeling him in to see his father.

-NCIS-

John was restless. He'd had to agree to stay in his bed today in exchange for his pass yesterday. Sarah had popped in early, before visiting hours were officially started, for a quick hug and kiss before she had to leave. Now he was waiting for Timothy, which meant that he was waiting on Timothy's doctor to release him. That meant that he was waiting for indirect word that his son was well enough to leave the hospital. John knew without a doubt that Gibbs would have gotten word to him if something had gone wrong, but still the uncertainty bothered him.

Finally the door opened and Tim was wheeled in. John took a careful look. The swelling might have started to go down a little bit, but the bruises were even worse, more than making up for it. "Timothy."

"Hey, Dad."

Gibbs brought him close and squeezed Tim's arm. "Take all the time you need."

Tim nodded and watched Gibbs leave before turning back. John looked closer at him. Tim shrugged and touched his chin, apparently as close as he wanted to touch his injury. "Guess it's a little early to start looking better."

"Swelling might be down a little bit, but that's some impressive bruising you've got going on there. Does it still hurt?"

"They've still got me on the good stuff so it doesn't hurt. My mouth feels funny, though. Apparently that's where most of the incisions are."

"Most?" John looked again. The breaks in the skin were closed with a few butterfly bandages and probably some wound glue, but he didn't see any new ones. "Did they go in through one of the gashes on your face?"

This time he pointed toward his eye. "Nope, through the inside of the lower eye lid."

John was a man's man. Anyone that knew him, knew that. Blood, guts, gore, he could handle anything except when it came to the eye. It had been fine when damage to Tim's eye was just a possibility, but the idea of an incision in that sensitive spot made him shudder. Luckily, Tim didn't know the reason.

"You okay, Dad? Can I get you anything? Do you want me to call a nurse?"

"I'm fine, Son." John reached out and touched the undamaged side of Tim's face. "Hate to see you getting hurt like this."

"It happens."

"It shouldn't, not like this. At least that bastard is going to get what's coming to him. Her, too, if I have anything to do with it."

"You were there, what's going to happen to him?"

John couldn't help but smile when he thought of what that woman had said to Fielding in the interrogation room. "I believe the terms stripped of his rank, his commission and his freedom came up."

"A dishonorable discharge?" Tim didn't look happy.

"He almost killed you, Timothy. If that paperweight had hit you a little closer to the temple, you would not be here right now." John's first instinct was to get mad, but he forced it down. Timothy was the victim – the victim of people he loved very much, so of course he would have mixed feelings about putting the old man in jail. For now, John wanted to make sure Tim understood that. "I saw the security video. The attack is on record, son. He didn't yell or accuse you, just went in there looking for blood. This wasn't some car accident where he missed a stop sign, this was attempted murder."

"And what happens to his family, Dad?"

"Fielding should have thought of that before he tried to kill you." John took a deep breath. "Let JAG handle it now, Tim. You need to concentrate on getting better and enjoying your new home."

That got a shy smile out of his boy. "Yeah? You liked it?"

"That place is beautiful, if I can get a break from chemo, I wouldn't mind trying out that hot tub of yours."

Yep, safer topic for sure. Tim was smiling at him now. "It's a deal, Dad."

"Good. I'm looking forward to it." John leaned closer so he could rest his hand on Tim's arm. Gibbs was right, he needed to say this right. "You know I've never been one for material possessions. It probably would have driven your mother crazy, but it did mean that she always got the furniture she wanted."

Tim's smile widened. "True. Too bad her taste in furnishings sucked."

"No arguments there." John studied Tim for a moment, hoping he was going to do this right. He wanted this to be about Tim, not himself. "When I was last stationed in California I rented a pretty modern place and ended up having a designer pick out the furniture for it. All modern stuff, very high end and I'd like you to have it for your new home."

"Dad..."

"It'll get you started, then if you don't like some of the pieces, you can sell them at a consignment shop and buy what you like.

"Dad..."

"I'm not going to beat this, Tim. We both know it. Sure, they might find a treatment that works better and it might give me a few more months, but in the long run, I'm not going to beat it. You and Sarah will inherit everything I have, but I'm asking you to allow me the pleasure of watching you enjoy some of these things now." Tim swallowed hard as the words sunk in, but John didn't push. After talking to Gibbs, he was determined to do this the right way.

"Okay, Dad, I'll take them and thank you. Think you can hold on for one last family dinner? See your furniture in my new house?"

John felt himself choke up a little at that. "I'd like that, I'd like that a lot."

-NCIS-

"Hey, Buddy." Tony opened the car door the second Gibbs shut off the engine. "Bet you're glad to get out of there, aren't you?"

Tim nodded while Ducky gave him a careful look. "To bed for you, young man. A nice nap until lunch time is all you have planned for now."

Tony carefully steered him into the house and up the stairs. "You heard the man, McGee. A nice nap for my original probie, then lunch with your sister, Abby and Ellie." Tony looked over his shoulder at Gibbs who was following them up the stairs. "Three women fussing over him? I don't know, Boss, I think he might need back-up."

"Actually, what he needs are pictures of his new furniture."

Ignoring Gibbs for the moment, Tony turned back to Tim. "You snuck out of the hospital to go furniture shopping without me? McGee, I'm hurt."

Tim started to shake his head, then obviously thought better of it. "The furniture is a gift from my dad. He wants me to have it now for the new house so he can see me enjoy it."

Instead of inheriting it after the old man was dead. It made sense, but it was still a depressing thought and Tony did not want his friend any more depressed than what the last twenty-four hours had caused. "Cool, so does your dad have good taste?"

"No, but he was smart enough to hire a designer."

Tony noticed a flash of surprise cross Gibbs' face, then the older man subtly shook his head when their eyes met. Curious, but Tony wasn't going to ask in front of McGee. "All right, as long as we don't catch a new case, I'll get pictures and bring them back this afternoon. Probably grab the Autopsy Gremlin to help move stuff around."

Ducky gave an approving nod as he followed McGee and Gibbs into the bedroom. Tony was behind them and waiting to see the reaction.

"Did my house collide with a pillow factory?" Gibbs was staring at his bed, which was now home to at least a dozen large, fluffy pillows.

Tony had been waiting for this since Abby had gone shopping. "Not a full collision. More like a drive-by pillowing." Gibbs didn't look impressed which made Tony grin even wider. "Look at it this way – when McGee moves into his house, all those pillows are the first step in furnishing all those bedrooms."

"Uh huh." Gibbs didn't say any more but he couldn't quite hide the amusement as he and Tony got McGee settled on the bed. Tim was certainly propped up enough and in no danger of sliding off the side of the pillows.

While Ducky did a quick exam Tony and Gibbs slipped out and went downstairs. Tony waited until they were in the living room. "What aren't you telling McGee?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow and Tony shook his head. "I saw the look on your face when Tim said his father hired a designer. He didn't hire a designer?" Tony quickly put the various pieces together every way he could think of. "The old man was dating the designer?"

Gibbs looked a little surprised that Tony had figured it out, so he shrugged. "When it comes to dating rather than hiring, Senior is an expert."

"Yeah, well," Gibbs glanced up the stairs, making sure they weren't going to be interrupted. "I got the impression it was fairly serious, til he got his diagnosis."

"She dumped him rather than risk getting stuck taking care of him and the old man doesn't want Tim to pity him?" The slight tilt of Gibbs' head told him he was right. "Don't worry, I won't say a word."

-NCIS-

"No steaks?"

Gibbs just rolled his eyes at Tony's question. Just walking through the door and he was already hinting to get fed. "All those stitches in his mouth, you really think he's gonna want something that he has to chew?"

At least Tony looked a little embarrassed. "Yeah, I guess not. So, soup again?" He sniffed deeply before looking back at Gibbs, who couldn't help him.

"Ducky's in there, cooking something. Have no idea what it is."

The cook in question appeared at the door. "Mince and Tatties, comfort food from my childhood. Are you staying for dinner, Tony?"

"I... um, I've got to check my calendar real quick, Ducky."

Gibbs almost laughed as Tony did a quick search on the term 'mince and tatties'. Almost because he was a little worried about what it was, too.

Mince and Tatties turned out to be a not that scary mix of well cooked vegetables and ground beef in a flavorful gravy that McGee was able to carefully eat.

Once dinner was over and they helped McGee back into bed, Tony handed over his phone. "Here, I went to your dad's storage unit and got you some pictures of the furniture he gave you."

"Thanks, Tony." Tim took the phone as Tony settled in next to him. By the time they'd gone through all the pictures and decided where everything would go, Tim was obviously fading and Tony helped him get situated for the night.

"Time for all good probies to go to sleep, McGee."

Tim's eyes were already closed, but he did nod. "Thanks, Tony. It's going to look good, isn't it?"

"Sure is." Tony waited for a moment until he was sure Tim was asleep, then slipped out the door. Gibbs was waiting for him downstairs.

"Get everything figured out?"

"Yeah." Tony sat down next to Gibbs and stretched out his legs. "Found a spot for everything except the mattress. He doesn't want to use his dad's old mattress and I totally get that one."

Gibbs gave a snort and Tony remembered that Gibbs had overheard him whining about Senior and Tony's bed. "Anyway, he wants to start fresh with a new mattress and bedding, but one of us can use the other mattress in a guest room. It's a king, I might take it – unless you want it, Boss."

"Remember, the old man is Navy. You might want to see just how firm that bed is before you lay claim to it."

Tony hadn't thought about that. "Yeah, okay, that's probably a good idea. What's the plan for tomorrow?"

"Palmer is coming over to stay with McGee. We're going to finish up the last of the paperwork on this mess and make sure the blood stains are gone from McGee's work station."