Looking away from the ceiling above his bed for had to have been the millionth time since he'd first tried to go to sleep last night, Tony looked at his clock only to find that the time to get up and face the day had come already. He groaned as he wiped his hands across his face. Sleep had been strangely elusive and he felt like he hadn't had any in a week, instead of just one night. He guessed guilt would do that to you; God knows, he'd been here before. Tony had lots to feel guilty about throughout his lifetime but this, this was among the worst.
After all, it wasn't every day that you fell down on the job in a big enough way that it affected the life of others on your team; or others, period. Tony wasn't used to screwing up like this and it felt like a million pounds was sitting on his shoulders and another dose of it had taken up residence in his gut. How the hell had that damn shooter gotten the jump on him? Why couldn't he remember how he'd screwed up?
"Where is that last shooter, Tony? Do you have him in custody?"
"No, he doesn't…"
The next thought going through Tony's brain answered that last question. He couldn't remember what had happened to bring things to that point because all he could recall and vividly hear replay over and over in his head; was that shooter callously trying to end Tim's life not two feet away from him, while Tony just stood there doing nothing; his hands up in the air like an idiot!
"Put your hands where I can see them. Now!"
Over and over again, he heard Sarah's outrage, disbelief and fear:
"So you're telling me that my brother was about to be shot at point blank range and you just stood there? You were just gonna let that bastard kill Tim? What the hell kind of teammate are you?"
Gasping for air, Tony squeezed his eyes tight against the too vivid replay of that moment in time that he was watching Tim get killed right in front of him.
"He's not my problem. You damn nosy cops storm in here uninvited, kill half my friends and run the rest of them off and interfere with my business and you expect me to give a damn if a couple of you do-gooders trying to take us down winds up dead?"
***BANG***
***BANG**
Over and over again, he saw that gun being pointed at Tim's chest and over and over again, heard it go off. BANG! BANG!
Jumping up off the bed, Tony practically ran for the shower, desperate to wash the guilt away, turning the water hotter than what was comfortable. He was the Senior Field Agent. The former street cop with enough experience in situations like this to have known better! He wasn't supposed to be the one to screw up so royally! He wasn't supposed to cost another teammate their life!
Only Gibbs, as injured as he had been,' taking that shot at that exact second, saved Tony's actions from resulting in Tim's death. How was Tony supposed to live with himself, knowing just how close he came to getting Tim killed?
Tony stood there feeling it; letting it pelt him; the too hot heat, standing still for it, deserving every bit of it; forcing himself to withstand the burning of the extremely hot water. Suddenly a wave of guilt and self-loathing crashed through him so strong, it literally drove him to his knees as it overtook him, sobs escaping along with hot tears that stung even through the water, his soul screaming with the ferocity of what he'd done; what he'd failed to do. Oh, God! Probie, I'm so sorry!
**NCIS***
Ziva ran harder than her usual stride; feeling the pain of every angry footfall that landed, just enough that it kept her going and kept her mind churning as guilt and anger at herself piled higher and higher with every step she took. It was earlier than she usually ran, but without the ability to find sleep, running was all she had.
"Put your hands where I can see them. Now!"
"This man needs medical attention, right now!"
"That's easy enough to fix. He's not my problem. You damn nosy cops storm in here uninvited, kill half my friends and run the rest of them off and interfere with my business and you expect me to give a damn if a couple of you do-gooders trying to take us down winds up dead?"
***BANG***
***BANG**
Sarah had raged at Tony but the truth was that Ziva was solely to blame. She had been in the better position to safeguard Tim better than she'd safeguarded Gibbs by not calling the shooter's attention to him or his need for medical attention. Why didn't she step between the shooter and her helpless teammate? Why had she remained more concerned about his injury than about his life?
Only Gibbs' split second timing and perfect aim, despite being seriously injured, had saved Tim from Ziva's failure to protect him. How was she supposed to live with herself knowing she almost cost her dear friend his life?
"So you're telling me that my brother was about to be shot at point blank range and you just stood there? You were just gonna let that bastard kill Tim? What the hell kind of teammate are you?"
***BANG***
***BANG**
Finding her vision suddenly blurred, Ziva hastily wiped at her eyes, finding them unexpectedly wet Lengthening her stride, she pushed herself harder, needing to pound the ground hard enough that it felt her guilt and her pain at what she'd done; what she'd failed to do.Oh, McGee, I am so sorry!
**NCIS**
The sound of muted voices pulled him from the depths of a sleep so heavy, he felt like he was running a marathon just trying to open his eyes to find the source of what he was hearing. Blinking several times, his vision cleared as did the words being said across the room.
"Dr. Mallard, are you sure?"
"I assure you, once Jethro is awake and cognitive of his whereabouts, he will insist on being discharged. He is not one to sit idly by while one of his agents is seriously injured. It will be much simpler just to release him. I will make sure he takes care of himself."
"Alright then. As soon as, ah, good morning, Agent Gibbs, Dr. Mallard and I were just discussing releasing you this morning, so long as there are no complications or problems. How do you feel?" The man, obviously a doctor wearing a white lab coat, complete with the stethoscope loped around his neck said as he looked at Gibbs with scrutiny.
""How's my agent?" Gibbs growled as he glared back.
"Your agent?" The doctor asked in confusion.
"Timothy's doctor is with him now, Jethro. We will have an update as soon as he has finished examining him." Ducky inserted in hopes of calming his friend.
"Talk to me, Duck." The Team Leader ordered as he turned his attention to the M.E. while trying to get out of the bed, one hand holding tight to the back of the hospital gown as he leaned against the bed. His injured shoulder was bound by a sling, immobilizing the joint to keep him from accidentally causing any more damage as he moved around.
"Now, Jethro, at least let the good doctor have one more look at you before you begin raising a ruckus to be released, would you? You know good and well, that Timothy will still be here when he is done. So, do be patient and wait for him to release you, hmm? The rest will do you good." Ducky chided. "Lord knows, you won't allow yourself a moment's rest once you've been released unless I badger you into it.
"Agent Gibbs, if you would allow me to check you over one last time, you will be free to check on your agent yourself." The doctor advised. "And you will need to commit to allowing yourself to rest or I will keep you here for at least another night."
"By all means, Jethro. Do cooperate won't you, while we await an update on our young man, hmm?" Ducky pushed as he took in the full scowl on Gibbs' face at the doctor's threat of another night spent in the hospital.
"Fine." Gibbs grunted as he laid his head back against the wall."
"Good. In that case, I shall wait outside. That way, I will be able to insure that Timothy's doctor stops and updates us." The M.E. stated as he headed toward the door.
"I wanna know everything, Duck."
"I will find out what I can, my friend." Ducky promised as he walked out into the hallway, leaving Gibbs to the mercy of his doctor and the two nurses that were heading into Gibbs' room to help.
**NCIS**
Some thirty minutes later, as he sat beside his fallen agent's hospital bed, his own freshly injured shoulder safely wrapped in a cocoon of swathing and held protectively in a sling, Gibbs gave voice to his concern. "You sure he's okay, Duck?" he asked quietly. "He doesn't look it. Don't think I've ever seen him this pale before. Has he even woken up at all?"
"I assure you, Jethro, Timothy is doing as well as can be expected right now. We are most fortunate that his head injury did not induce any more swelling than what we are contending with now. To answer your second question, my friend, Timothy has not yet woken up nor should he. I believe his body's ability to recover is greatly being boosted by the rest he is getting. I'm sure they will ease him off the sedation as soon as the risk of further damage to his brain from additional swelling has passed."
"He saved my life out there." The Team Leader shared almost reverently.
"Yes, I've heard the reports of what happened from both Anthony and Ziva. I'm certain Timothy will be most relieved to know that you did not lose that battle today." The M.E. offered.
Gibbs sat watching his agent sleep the restful sleep of an induced sedation. He knew the poor guy needed all the rest he could get. He prayed that the young man would came back from this as fit and sound as he'd want to be; without having lost anything to this mess.
"Jethro, is something on your mind?" Ducky's inquisition was offered conversationally with overtones of concern.
"Just hopin' he'll come outta this intact, Duck." Gibbs answered truthfully as he kept the conversation as quiet as possible.
"You seem to have become quite a bit more in tune with Timothy over the past few months. That refreshing change wouldn't by any chance, have something to do with Timothy's disappearance from the squad room on the afternoon of Mike Franks' funeral when you were also absent from the squad room, would it? "
The M.E.'s question startled Gibbs, coming from almost out of the blue. He couldn't explain it and so he said nothing, choosing instead to go with what was typical for him; silence.
"Am I correct in my belief that Timothy was occupied that night with his quest to look after your well-being?" Ducky continued to dig for answers.
Gibbs remained silent as the M.E.'s words struck a chord in his heart. It felt strange hearing that Tim's stubborn insistence that he not leave Gibbs alone that night several months ago had been considered by the others to be a quest and not a secret one. Finally, he found one question he needed the answer to. "How much do you know about that night, Duck?"
"Only what I myself and the others, of course, surmised to have been Timothy's agenda that night. Coupled, of course, with the improvement in the way you two seem to work together now. There seems to be less tension and a tad bit more compassion and patience offered to him from you since then. Might that be why you told Anthony that today was in fact the second time Timothy has saved your life?"
Gibbs closed his eyes as his long time friend's questions hit too close to home about a night in his life he wasn't prepared to talk about with anyone. Right now, his focus was on Tim. He didn't want to think back to that night; not right now. But, Ducky was right and now that it had been mentioned, he couldn't help but think on what had taken place that night for a minute.
As far as Gibbs was concerned, his youngest agent had saved his life that night; on the deeper level that almost no one had ever trespassed before. The fact that Tim never acted any different towards Gibbs after that eventful night raised the young man up in Gibbs' eyes. The Team Leader remained grateful to him, which in turn, had set things in motion for the older man to become and remain more in tune with the young man as a person on his team equal to the others and no longer simply the electronic leg of the outfit. Ultimately yet silently, he'd turned the tide until the changes Ducky was referring to had come about.
It had been difficult to watch things slowly but steadily deteriorate between his two boys, but Gibbs wasn't about to make any drastic changes to the way things were handled and so he remained the silent overseer. Oddly enough, Tony seemed to drawn his own line in the sand and never step over it as far as to what lengths he would go to express his anger towards Tim or verbally take it out on the younger man. The Senior Field Agent somehow never took it too far; although there had been numerous times where his hand had visibly twitched in the direction of Tim's head, as if needing to administer a head slap to the one person on the team he seemed forever determined to view as his underling.
The first time that had happened, Gibbs had actively watched with an unmistakable warning glare at his oldest 'kid', letting Tony know he was walking a thin line. Head slaps from the Senior Field Agent hadn't been sanctioned since they'd lost Kate.
"Thawack!"
"Don't do that, Tony."
That was one thing that was not going to change. Tony had curtailed that itch, settling instead for a serious gripe fest, all of which, Tim quite effortlessly ignored. And even though that lack of reaction from Tim only served to amp up Tony's frustration and anger, Gibbs still refused to take the control that Tim was routinely showing, away from him by stepping in.
In the weeks that followed that night at his house, the boss had given much thought to the young man's request and the fact that it had come from deep within Tim's soul. He'd known it had taken a lot for Tim to finally voice what he'd obviously long been worried about and it only served to focus Gibbs' attention much more keenly to what Tim had admitted to him obviously because he trusted him with it.
Boss, I… I'm worried this might be the last straw for you and you're leaving us again. Only this time you won't come back.
Gibbs had given a lot of thought to the favor Tim had asked from him, too. It had shone a light on a lot that had long been staring Gibbs in the face and he'd been overlooking. Tim had been a green probie with only about a year and a half training and experience under his belt when Gibbs had retired for those four months. The kid still couldn't stand up to Tony and Tony was still eating him up for breakfast every morning and spitting him back out to put him to work. Gibbs had thrown Tim to the wolves without a second look. Tim had never said a word about any of it. Until that next morning after Mike's funeral.
"If leaving's what you feel you need to do, could you at least let us say goodbye this time? And maybe consider letting Abby tell us you're alright this time, instead of forcing her to keep it a secret?"
Blinking, Gibbs brought his thoughts back to the here and now. He knew that he had Tim to thank for himself not running away after Mike's death. Somehow, that short but painfully honest conversation with his youngest agent, along with some never forgotten words of advice from two of the people he'd been closest to, had thrown away any thoughts he might have had of leaving. He hadn't been able to walk away.
Only Tim's concerned probing had brought to mind those most important recollections that had made a difference in Gibbs' choices. Tim was the reason they'd made the difference again. The Team Leader could only hope that the near tragedy here today would put an end to whatever had kept Tony so angry at Tim for so long. He needed his team to reknit their bonds that kept them the best at what they did because they worked together almost seamlessly and looked out for each other every single time they went out into the field. His gut was telling him that to get back to that point, his people would have to travel a difficult road now.
His head was fuzzy in terms of what he actually recalled from the scene at the warehouse since he'd been in so much pain and focused on worrying about Tim, but Gibbs did know that Tony and Ziva had been forced to stand by and damn near watch their fellow teammate and friend get killed not three feet from where they stood. The Team Leader even now, remained layered in relief that he'd been able to kill that bastard before he'd so cruelly taken Tim from them.
"Jethro." Ducky quietly called to him from the doorway.
Gibbs turned and noticed another Doctor standing by the M.E.'s shoulder as they backed up into the hallway when he joined them at the door, so as to not disturb Tim's sleep.
"Agent Gibbs, I'm Dr. Beaker. I've been your agent's treating physician since he arrived. I apologise for that interruption just now. I had to take that call."
"Give it to me straight, Doc." Gibbs requested firmly.
"First, I need for you to realize that the only reason I'm able to share any information on Agent McGee's status is because his sister has rather forcefully insisted that you be kept informed. Something about 'on the off-chance that he actually cares more than our father does.'?" Dr. Beaker remarked with a puzzled expression.
Gibbs scowled but remained quiet, letting the doctor know to keep going with what he had to say. He'd sort the mess with Sarah out later. Hearing how Tim was doing was damn sure more important.
"All right. Agent McGee, as I'm sure you're aware, was grazed in the head, an inch above his ear, hard enough that it rendered him unconscious. As he fell, his head hit the cement floor of the warehouse much more forcibly than any of us would have liked. In fact, that's the reason for the swelling, much more so than the graze. Now, while the swelling was our biggest concern when he presented to us; it has gone down significantly since then and I'm finally comfortable that he'll be able to begin the healing process without any problems. We've begun weaning him off the sedation."