AN: I know there's a split infinitive in this chapter… people don't worry about grammar when they're a bit cross.

Graduation Celebration Confrontation

Chapter 12

"You can see him now," the ER doctor had said, and Marianne had shot to her feet. "We've moved him to Recovery, cubicle 2, he –"She was gone.

Ziva said, "Thank you, Doctor. Would you mind telling me how he is instead? I am his team-mate and friend, and more likely to remember the details. Our team leader will want to know about him; he is visiting another member of the team who was hurt."

"Ah," the doctor said, "Yes… I was hoping to get away to see that patient as soon as things were quieter here… he should really not have been sent out of recovery and up to the wards so soon. I'd like to check on him… Well, Special Agent McGee will make a complete recovery. The wound is a crease, three inches long, we have cleaned it thoroughly, stitched it and given him a course of antibiotics. We also gave him a blood transfusion as a precaution; he was somewhat light-headed, which we felt indicated that he'd lost more than he thought he had. We also checked him over for other injuries, but apart from a few bruises, he's fine"

He looked over at the four people in evening dress who'd been sitting with the agent he was speaking to, and who were listening avidly. "Once the transfusion is finished, and if he feels up to it, Mr. McGee can be discharged; with conditions. First, that he's not left alone; I mean, he must rest the arm, and how good is he at taking medication?"

"Oh, Tim's not the one we have the problems with, he's sensible, and if he were not, Marianne would deal with it."

The doctor smiled and nodded. "That's the sort of care I was hoping he'd get. Second, that he checks in with his General Practitioner when he gets back to DC; and third, that he arranges to have a course of mild physiotherapy to help the muscle to recover."

"We will take care of all that, Doctor."

He could see that she meant it, and beamed. "Splendid. Er… Marianne, did you say? 's partner? Do I need to see her? She said she wasn't hurt, but I believe she was in shock."

"She was a little, Doctor," Ziva said, "But I persuaded her to rest and have a hot drink, and she calmed down. Then our other friends arrived, which helped. And now she is with Tim I believe she will be fine. I will keep an eye on her, though."

"That's more than I could hope for. Oh - could you tell me the name of your other injured agent? You'll have to forgive me; I'd only just come on duty when was brought in, I was told about the gunshot victim, but he'd been sent upstairs, and I haven't had time to look at any notes yet."

"He is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo; our team leader has gone to find him, apparently nobody could tell Marianne anything when she arrived with Tim. Can you tell us, please?" She gestured towards her three friends. "We are all somewhat anxious."

"I'll find out for you," he reassured her. "If it's possible before you go, I must say I'd love to hear the whole story… but this seems to be a lull… time's something we seldom have round here." He went over to the desk and sat down at a spare computer.

In cubicle two, Marianne had finally given in to the events of the evening. Tim was working through the effects of the sedative he'd been given when they stitched his arm; he'd surface from time to time, ask if she was OK, she'd kiss him lightly, he'd doze off again. After the third time, Mari's overshot nerves had had enough; she put her head down on the bed, alongside the hand she was holding, and tried to give way to tears silently.

She wasn't successful; it was only a few moments before she felt Tim's hand pull out of hers and rest on her hair instead. "Hey…" his voice was a lot stronger this time.

Mari looked up. "Sorry… I didn't mean to wake you up…"

Tim pushed himself up with his good hand. "Time you did. I'm neglecting you." He checked that the corner of the bed sheet was clean; it was pristine, and he used it to dry her tears. "C'me…" he held his arm out, and she sat on the edge of the bed and leaned into him. He wrapped his good arm round her, and gestured with his wounded one, in its sling. "You know what this means?"

"You got shot!" Her voice was still shaky, and she sniffed.

"Excellent perception, my most observant Dr. Weiss…"

"Stop making fun of me!" she muttered into his chest, and poked him in the ribs with a small fist. Her voice wasn't quite so shaky; it was a technique he'd seen DiNozzo use any number of times, and hey – it worked. He squeezed her shoulders, and rubbed his face in her hair. I love you…

"It means time off, Liebchen, that's what it means;" he kissed her ear. "You and me… watching the sunset over the sea… or picnicking in the mountains… It means you drive the Porsche when we go…I don't know, where would you like to go?"

"Anywhere with you, McRomantic. I love you."

"Mmm… ich liebe dich.."

"Ah, Tim…"

Ziva put her head round the curtain, and withdrew it just as quickly. She tiptoed back the way she'd come, although she didn't think they'd have heard her if she'd ridden a quadbike.

That was odd; she'd no sooner thought of one than she heard one. One of Tony's dinky - no, kinky - quinkydinks, that was it. Gibbs didn't believe in coincidences, and neither did she. It was a sports car, being driven far too fast for the grounds of a hospital.

She got back into the ER waiting area just in time to hear a new voice saying loudly, "Strewth, what's this? A Night at the Opera'? OK, Kaminski, you can go home now."

A smoothly dressed young man had swanned up to the desk where both the receptionist and the doctor Ziva had just been speaking to were working. The doctor, who'd already been developing a frown at what he was reading, stood up so quickly his chair shot back and hit the wall.

"Where the hell have you been, Rankin?"

"Hey, I'm late… My car broke down… I sent a text… what's the big deal? I'm here, you can go."

Dr. Kaminski glanced over to see two young Saturday night revellers escorting in a bleeding friend, and spoke quickly to a nurse. "Suzie – start with that young man please, I'll be there in a moment." He turned back to the newcomer. "So that wasn't your car, and your girlfriend I just saw careering away, then? I just got here, Rankin. This is where I'm supposed to be. You're on surgical, and you should have been there half an hour ago. If you won't even read the duty rosters, what are you like reading patients' notes?"

The doctor was doing his best to keep his voice down, but Ziva and the others were listening as hard as they could. Wild horses wouldn't have stopped them.

"OK, OK, I'll get up there… what's the hurry?"

"No, you won't. Dr. Chow has arranged for Dr. Bryant and his senior nurse to, very kindly, I might add, cover all of that floor until the morning shift takes over. You're to stop here and wait for Dr. Chow."

"You're telling me what to do?" He stepped up belligerently. Ziva waited, but she didn't need to help. Dr. Kaminski was pretty mad.

"Oh, yes. Apparently a patient on surgical almost died through lack of supervision during the extra half hour you spent with your girlfriend." He grinned maliciously. "Dr. Chow wants a word."

"Dr. Chow?" The other doctor looked round rather wildly, saw not a friendly face among the listeners, and stormed out.

"Do you wish me to stop him?" Ziva asked, but Kaminski shook his head.

"Chicken on top of being a bloody bad doctor," he said flatly. They watched Rankin heading for the taxi stand.

Gill, Claire, Josh and Anne-Marie all stood up anxiously, and joined Ziva. They could see Dr. Kaminsky bracing himself. "Yes, it was Special Agent DiNozzo," he said, before they could ask. "He became very ill, but he's recovering now. Someone will be down to speak to you soon; I must go to my patient. I'm sorry."

For a moment, the four friends stood looking at each other, silenced by shock.

Josh stuttered finally, "The bullet wound must have been worse than we thought."

Claire said fiercely, "You didn't see what the SWAT team did to him, Josh." Gill looked at her in horror. "I saw, Mom. I was conscious after the flashbangs went off. You protected me from most of the explosion… so did the singers… they were nice…" Tears were running down her face. "I saw how they punched him, and kicked him…" Josh put his arms round her, and looked at Gill for an explanation. She sighed; she'd given her statement to Lieutenant Barraclough, and hadn't held back. She never wanted to have to repeat it ever again, but she kept her voice steady and told Josh what had happened up to the moment when Gibbs and Ziva arrived.

Ziva completed the story. "He was not fine, obviously, but he was conscious and able to tell Gibbs he must go after you, Josh. We knew he was right, so that was what we did; the paramedics were with him when we left." She paused. "We do what is right in our work, and things would have gone badly for you and Tim if we had not come to you… even so, leaving him was a very difficult thing to do, and I do not like having to wait like this."

Josh was surprised to hear her opening up so much; Ziva was surprised that she had done so. They all sat down again, and silence fell. Another reveller with a cut head came in, and Ziva was just about to take matters into her own hands and go and find room 220, when she heard familiar voices approaching.

"Where's Tony, Gibbs? We got here as quickly as we could… Ziva said he was shot but he was OK, and Tim was the same. Are they together? We thought they'd be in emergency, but we went in the main entrance and they didn't seem to know much at first, then they found Tony so we came up here, is Tim with him? Can we take them home? Ziva said everyone's safe, and you know how Tony hates hospitals and the longer Tim stays with him the more he'll get like him… Gibbs…?"

Abby trailed off anxiously; Ducky, admirable man, showed the greatest restraint he could muster, said nothing, and waited. Gibbs was silent for a moment, then guided them over to some seating at the junction of the two corridors. He wouldn't have admitted it if you'd taken his coffee away; but his legs felt weak.

"McGee's down in emergency," he began steadily. "Ziva's with him, and Marianne, and just about everyone else by now, I should think. He was doing fine last I heard…" He sighed. "But I could have said the same about Tony."

Ducky braced himself, Gibbs didn't often use first names in conversation, and he realised he'd been right to do so as Gibbs started to explain, and the whole catalogue of disaster unfolded.

"He's in good hands now," he finally said, "You'll have to meet Dr. Chow, she's something else, and he'll be fine. But he wasn't, Ducky, he wasn't." He looked as grey as they'd ever seen him. Ducky nodded, understanding what his friend was thinking; this was the second time Gibbs had seen his surrogate son on the brink of death; he didn't know how he would have coped with it himself.

"I'd like to speak to this Dr. Chow, obviously," he said. "We'll wait until she's finished, and in the meantime…" he got up and went to the nearby vending machines.

Abby's eyes were like saucers. "You meant that, Gibbs, didn't you? He is going to be alright?"

"Yes, Abbs, he is. I trust that doctor." He put his arms round her reassuringly, as Ducky brought back coffee and a power bar. The coffee was lukewarm, and Gibbs drained it in one. He was about to take a bite out of the bar, when there came low voices and the sound of the trundling of a bed from down at the end of the corridor. They looked, in time to see the bed, which they were pretty certain contained a sleeping NCIS agent, disappearing into a lift.

Gibbs shoved the power bar into his pocket. "Let's see if we can find Dr. Chow," he said, starting off down the short passage.

Ducky agreed. "She might not be able to talk to us yet, but we can wait; then at least she won't have to come looking for –"

Gibbs suddenly motioned them to stop, and put a finger to his lips. Diana Chow's voice came from the empty room that had been Tony's.

"…So I'm not blaming you for the call button being placed out of the patient's reach; but if you'd looked in on him it wouldn't have mattered. I'm also aware that if the supervising doctor had actually been here, you would have been told to check on every room, and every patient; it's procedure."

She paused and thought to herself that given the doctor concerned, that might not have been an accurate statement. "I'm trying to be as fair as I can to both of you; two inexperienced nurses should, ideally not have been put together on a shift, but the fact remains after all that, that if you're more interested in sitting chatting than looking after your patients, you shouldn't be in the job."

There was the sound of a loud sniff, but the doctor was merciless. "Well, we're going to find out. As Senior Physician; I could refer you to the disciplinary board. If that young man had died tonight; and but for his senior agent's intervention, he would have done, that's what I would do. Can you imagine how that man felt, finding someone he thinks of as a son in that condition? So…you'll both be under my personal supervision for the next three months; and I will ride you hard. If I don't see a total change in your attitude, I will take this further. Is that clear?"

There were two muted 'yes doctor's. "Then go about your duties for the rest of the shift. Properly." The two nurses fled from the room, while the NCIS posse tried to look as if they were just arriving, as Dr. Chow came from the room. "Ah," she said, with a rather thin smile. "Special Agent Gibbs; did you hear any of that?"

"Yes, Di." He used her first name, since she'd told him to, and because he felt guilty for listening. "Just Gibbs… I didn't mean to eavesdrop… found myself feeling that I had to."

"I wanted to put the fear of God into them… like I said, they're good girls… but they have to be good nurses." She smiled enquiringly at his two companions, and he introduced them.

"First things first, then," the doctor said for the second time that night. "Come with me." As they stepped into the elevator, she said, "Medication is bringing Tony's temperature down, and he's now on a specific antibiotic, and painkillers for when he wakes, which won't be too long now. The wound is cleaned and treated, and I've strapped up two cracked ribs. You'll see a big change in him, I'm glad to say." They stepped out of the elevator, and she said apologetically, "Just one at a time for now, I'm afraid."

The rooms in the ICU had glass half walls, and Gibbs could see where Tony was. "Off you go then, Gibbs," Di said, and turned to Ducky as Gibbs went. "Now, Dr. Mallard, you'll want the specifics…"

Gibbs perched himself on a stool beside Tony's bed. The SFA wasn't wearing a gown, because of the temperature issue; both wounds had fresh dressings, and there was elastic strapping round his ribs, so he looked like a patchwork quilt. He looked cared for. He was turned slightly onto his left side, with soft padding placed under his right shoulder. As soon as Gibbs sat down, he opened his eyes lazily.

"Hi, Boss."

"So, DiNozzo… Dr. Di said you should be feelin' better."

"I do, Boss… that's the truth." He grinned, and gave a morphine-laced giggle. "I feel... like I'm floating in… marshmallow…"

"Just don't go eating your pillow, then."

Tony frowned as if hit by a sudden thought, and cautiously slid his right hand, the one that was unencumbered by a drip, below the sheet. After he'd firkled about for a moment, a blissful smile spread over his face, and he dozed off to sleep again.

Gibbs patted his arm, and left him to it. As he left the room, Abby, who'd had her nose against the glass, said, "Gibbs, what was he doing? And why was he smiling about it?"

Gibbs allowed himself a smile. "He just discovered he hasn't got a catheter."

Abby's face was a study.

AN: Getting near the end, I think; just need to find Tim somewhere with a nice sunset.